Return of the Hamm’s

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Well unless you’ve been living under a rock, there were some unnerving events unfolding in downtown Champaign over the last few weeks. One of the local beer distributors RAN OUT OF CANS OF HAMM’S. That’s right, Hamm’s. The beer refreshing. Brewed where nature works her wonders. Aged for many moons. HAMM’S.

Here’s a picture of the last can consumed, as submitted by Low End on February 22nd, the year of our Lord, two-thousand twelve.

Oh, sure … you could get a Hamm’s draft at two many fine institutions downtown, but where’s the chance to win? If you’re the lucky individual to blow the keg, are you going to wear it on your head? I think not. That would just look silly.

Let the games continue.

Do I look like a bug?

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Hoss scores the next 30. In his own words:

“Cut shoulder spots but the holder-holes were too low. Made my own eye holes but it’s still a little goofy.”

More research is needed. Or as Martin Brody so eloquently put it, “we’re gonna need more Hamm’s a bigger boat.”

Somehow this also comes to mind.

Onwards, gents!

Happy days are here again.

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So word on the street is that there’s a 30-pack of Hamm’s in the Brass Rail cooler. What does this all mean? It’s not clear. The plan is to have a meeting of the Board of Directors to discuss the implications and ramifications of a 30-pack of Hamm’s. More girth? Wider nose guard? Bigger lapels? I’m sure it will all work out. We’re a clever bunch in that regard. Meanwhile, happiness prevails.