Former First Lady Nancy Reagan cried out to America in 1986, “Just Say No!” Now is the time to once again put our collective foots down and just say no to an obvious wrong happening around us. I’m talking about Lucky Charms flavored beer. What the heck, people?! This is what happens when pajamas become pants, girls become Boy Scouts, and “house plant” is an option for gender affiliation. Is nothing sacred?
When I was a kid, Lucky Charms was sugar-packed cereal devoid of nutritional value that you got to eat on Saturday morning while sitting in front of the television watching Scooby Doo cartoons. It was your reward for not waking mom and dad up before 8:30am. Beer was never part of the Saturday morning equation until college, and, at that point, no one woke up before noon anyway. So how did this unholy union even happen?
According to the Norfolk, Virginia brewery, Smartmouth Beer, on Saturday, March 2nd, they release their newest IPA beer appropriately (or not) called “Saturday Morning,” brewed with marshmallows. It’s “brewed with house toasted marshmallows and cereal marshmallows in the mash, hopped with Galaxy and Calypso, and dry hopped a whole lot more. This IPA is sure to set you back with nostalgia, on the couch, turning on the best cartoons for a Saturday morning.” Again, my Saturday morning childhood memories never came with the threat of a hangover, but we were Presbyterians, so who knows.
And now that we’ve kicked the lid off of Pandora’s Box, what could possibly be next? Tootsie Roll Tequila? Or better yet: Pot Tarts! A clever mix of newly legalized marijuana with a frosted Pop-Tart®? You can get the munchies and cure the munchies all at the same time, the whole while hallucinating about your first Tonka truck or Barbie doll. How long will it be before the trend turns the other direction and Kellogg’s partners with Anheuser-Busch for Bud Light Flakes Cereal?
Take note all you breakfast boozers, Smartmouth Beer’s “magically ridiculous” “Saturday Morning” is only available for a limited time in Virginia. So hop on your Schwinn’s banana seat and pedal on over there before it’s gone. But bring a note from your mother and a designated driver.
