"Good People Drink....Grolsch?" Really, Dr. Thompson?

February 20th marks five years since the death of Hunter S. Thompson.

Each year, as the Super Bowl approaches, occurs, then recedes into faded memory, I find myself giving a thought or two to the train wreck that was Hunter S. Thompson. This year, I’ve just finished reading the book Gonzo by Jann Wenner and some other dude whose name escapes me at the moment. Evidently, Thompson’s widow was not too happy with the book but I have to think it must be a pretty honest appraisal of the nutty Doctor since it includes dozens of recollections from his son Juan. Bottom line: Old HST was a lot of fun when he wanted to be, but damn he was a turd a fair share of the time, too. (Gosh, what middle-aged man hasn't said that about his own father a time or two.)

For those of you wanting to see last year’s screed on Doctor Thompson and a special beer dedicated to his good name and questionable legacy, click HERE!

In addition to knocking Hunter Thompson down a peg or two in my estimation, the book Gonzo also revealed what were, supposedly, Thompson’s favorite beers. Oddly enough, Heineken, Molson and Grolsch appear in the text as being on the good Doctor’s short list of yummy, fermented adult beverages. (Never mind that he was evidently a walking medicine chest of assorted illegal and legal drugs.)

So, while I’d planned to have another bottle of Gonzo Imperial Porter this year in honor of Hunter S. Thompson, I think it more appropriate that I knock back a sample of something he might have appreciated a bit more in his day. (Despite the quote attributed to Thompson: "Good people drink good beer.")

Grolsch Premium Lager

Let me just start by saying that no good beer that’s ever passed my lips had the words “premium lager” printed on the label. And let me add that no beer that I’ve ever seen sporting the handle “premium lager” has been without some sort of slick packaging whiz bang – usually a foil wrapped top. Grolsch is no different. Doc Thompson reportedly fancied Grolsch because of the nifty flip top bottles in which the beer is packaged. The fact that Thompson wasn’t a paragon of moderation leads me to ask, why he would care to reseal a bottle of beer, but I suppose when your hands are occupied with running an IBM Selectric typewriter, fending off inquisitive editors, firing up the odd doobie and popping the occasional hit of acid, it pays to have beer bottles that can be re-sealed.

The stuff pours a clear golden color with a thin white head. It smells sour and tastes of sour grain – perhaps corn. It’s thirst quenching and at just 5% abv a decent session beer if you’re not too hung up on taste or style. Currently, the swing top bottle is about all this one has going for it. Perhaps the marketing crew at Grolsch could capitalize on the fact that Hunter S. Thompson drank their beer. If nothing else, I plan to drop the folks at Flying Dog a note and strongly urge them to introduce a line of their Imperial Porter in flip top bottles. How cool would that be?

Postscript: The Very Crap He Would Have Despised.

Perhaps it’s a quirk of my nature that I’d rather read about famous writers than read what they’ve written. It’s true for Hemingway and Abbey and it’s definitely true for this nut job Thompson. It’s often difficult to divine meaning from their written word, but it’s a damned straightforward proposition to gather meaning (and sometimes inspiration) from their lives. As a result, my radar is far more acute in picking up references to the author and his persona than references to his works. Example: ambling the bright aisles of a local Target store I espied a strange little plastic skateboard (action?) figure with the handle “Hunter.” Given that this squat little plastic figure sported a slouch hat, Hawaiian shirt and a briefcase with “I (heart) L.V.” on the side, it was clear that what this was: a Hunter Thompson rip off! And all the more pathetic are the good Doctor’s words echoing from beyond the grave: “…nobody grows up wishing to be a comic strip character…” (I’m curious to know if the Hunter Thompson estate knows about this. The packaging doesn’t include any reference to Thompson or the Thompson post-mortem machine.) I bought the little dust collector because it was on sale and because it’s obviously meant to represent Hunter S. Thompson.

Maybe in the grand karmic scheme, it’s something of a punishment for the wacky Doctor Thompson, to be reborn as a plastic skateboard figurine in atonement for drinking Grolsch, Molson and Heineken. That and the drugs.

Here’s a recent Appraisal of Hunter S. Thompson’s legacy.

The revelations in Gonzo not withstanding, still hope to see you around, Doc.

For those of you with more than a passing interest, I’d strongly recommend Gonzo: The Life of Hunter S. Thompson by Jann Wenner and Corey Seymour. And don’t pay $30 for the damned thing either; it can be had for about 7 bucks if you look around.