beer_name: Earthquake High Gravity Lager
text: The CANQuest just CANtinues to take me to new and unexpected places. I CANnot tell you how overjoyed I am to be reviewing yet another AmeriCAN Malt Liquor. And from the good people of City BC, LLC, no less. I wonder, as I drink their products (NOT their beers), how they sleep at night. A special circle in Hell must be reserved for purveyors of such swill, or so I would believe if that were my belief system. I am at the mercy of the almighty CAN and so, I proceed only hoping to come out on the other side. Once I cracked the top, I was committed! The CANQuest will abide nothing less. I saw a finger of bone-white head that looked like something I might see from 7-Up as it popped, fizzled and reduced to wisps in record time. My liver began to hurt. The color was a golden yellow with NE-quality clarity. And now, for the moment of truth - I leaned in, taking a deep whiff. Yoi! It smelled like a plastics manufacturing plant or maybe the production facility for styrofoam. My liver began banging around, hoping for escape in the face of the inevitable. I took a good mouthful, in case I might have to abandon the quest. Whew! I was suddenly sad that I did not have a gas station nearby as I could sell someone the remainder for their tank. I got an initial flavor of VERY green apples which gave way to a flavor resembling only the finest unleaded gasoline. Perfect, if you are looking to commit suicide by beer. The finish was hot in a molten way. I was afraid to do anything that might possibly create a spark. My liver disengaged and began shoving other organs out of its way in its search for an exit. My eyes began to water and I could feel the suction pump vacuuming the moisture out of my brain en route to a stellar hangover. By my second mouthful, I was praying to a God in whose existence I was heretofore an unbeliever. Remember the old saw about atheists and foxholes? Incoming! I began to taste cotton candy, another sign of a quality beer. I refilled my glass, watching it come out of the CAN like viscous apple juice. This is wrong on so many levels, it is not even quantifiable. I began to have convos with my Pops, my grandparents, and my uncle Rick, all long deceased, ala Willy Loman in "Death of a Salesman". I see dead people! Why are they all disapproving of my beer? CAN it be that I may be on my way to join them? I am pressing on. By my third swallow, I was drooling openly, unable to control my motor functions and preparing to urinate in the sink. Damn, this is real good! I am coming around to their POV - nothing like a good, cheap erasure of my mind on a Friday night, especially on the cheap. Cheep, cheap. Hoo ha. Who R U? I CANnot open the bay doors right now, Dave. Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do ... I happy to pleased meet you are. Where CAN I get some more of this jaunt? Taa daa. I'm here! Lucky you. Wait, what was I supposed to be doing? Sorry, I've got to go, in order to operate a construction crane high above multiple people. Good times!