Thom Yorke’s Private Underarm Unicorn Speaks Only Truths and Pilsner –Twelve Vinyl Towers Brewery, Mordor

Tasting Notes: That first morning on the Isle of Man, after the year in Prague, is a series of small realizations. First, about your undergarments, and secondly, about Tilde. Her hair was the color of ripe wheat. Would that she had never discovered your driver’s license, and, in doing so, your real last name.

Don’t Poke Betty White Porter — Apatow Ales, Corner of West Bungalow and Fetherton

Tasting Notes: Much like its inimitable namesake, this white-headed quaff isn’t over until it’s over. And then, well, it’s over, but you can make out the beginnings of your next screenplay in the foam left on the inside of the glass. It begins in darkness, and ends in that mixtape. Put it on. Put the window down. Invent an errand, and drive for the sake of listening to it swell against the glass of your windshield. Stay out until dawn, and startle a deer on the road as the light rises to fill the trees. We’ll leave the back door unlocked.

Pirhanas Broke My Brother’s Heart Double-Bock — Railroad Subterfuge Brewery, Abilene, TX

Tasting Notes: You were 22 when you first realized that all of life will be like the end of a Bond film: men in jumpsuits/wetsuits/lycra/spacesuits of one color, arrayed against a nearly limitless but limited at the last army of opposing forces. There will be needlessly complicated deathtraps involving vicious animals left in your vicinity, but, not yet in direct contact with you. There will be Brylcreem. There will be this beer: it will be as virtuous as the font of Sean Connery’s chestal thatch, and three times as vigorous.

TCPIPA — Mike Judge We Hardly Knew Ye House of Grog, San Carlos, CA

Tasting Notes: What this really tastes like, truly, is lawn clippings. You thought I was going to say ‘red stapler’ or ‘TPS report’ or even ‘Michael Bolton’s thong’, but, it’s just grass, guys. From the right kind of lawn mower.

Night Terrors Nut Brown Ale — Too Tired to Ride A Penny Farthing, Philadelphia, PA

Tasting Notes: When Uncle Mark became Aunt Margery, nothing really changed save the worry that you suddenly had about perpetually running out of toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom. This ale is deep and rich, much like the relationship that blossomed between you after you discovered Costco.

I Just Don’t Know Alejandro Traditional Bitters — Catastrophic Plot Failure Craft Brewing, Hoboken, NJ

Tasting Notes: It’s bad to try to lower your truck yourself, by sawing through the leaf springs, much like it’s bad to drink domestic beer that tastes like fermented bullets. This doesn’t–it tastes like the plot hole in that second to last action film that you shot with Todd, involving string, a Boston Terrier, and a misplaced book of matches: wry amusement, and making out with the craft services lady.