Bad Beer and Tight Jeans: An Analytical Deconstruction of Two Competing Paradigms

Some dude from the Atlantic

Because “great taste, less filling” is a lie straight from the pit of Hell.

I have thick skin… Wait, let me rephrase that: I don’t have thick skin. I have very thin skin – not when it comes to topics of politics, religion, music, or sports (i.e. things that matter), but certainly on issues of personal branding and, of course, style. Needless to say, I take umbrage at bad commercials, especially bad commercials that mock my sense of cool and, above all, bad commercials that mock my sense of cool whilst plugging shitty beer.

I submit to you the following:

Now, Miller Lite is primarily known for two things: a bad product and worse commercials. So it comes as a surprise to no one that MillerCoors would unleash on the unsuspecting public such a putrid piece of meathead-baiting fodder.

The advertisement in question adopts the en vogue “Man Up” Palinism in a transparent bid to coax you into A) the misogynistic derision of skinny jeans and B) drinking beer that tastes like piss. Neither of these things sit particularly well with me because, as an open-minded, culturally progressive college student, I spend a considerable chunk of time wearing ill-fitting pants and buying alcohol.

Look, I’m no beer elitist. In fact, I’ve been known to subsist for entire weeknights at a time on PBR tallboys alone. But those in glass houses should not throw stones: a commercial for light beer framing tight jeans as wussy strikes me as both entirely hypocritical and the very apex of irony… like Joe Camel allotting a 30-second PSA to tell me Skoals kills.

Please.

Nevermind the commercial’s erroneous portrayal (the belt’s gotta go, the sneakers gotta go, and if you’re over 30 and still favor this a sensible fashion choice, you’d better be either A) better looking or B) in an emo band). Logistical issues are besides the point. To discuss the obvious – that endorsements for substandard products, by nature, appeal to the least common denominator (i.e. the mentally incapacitated) – would be to pass on a critical teaching moment, and more, a discussion of the pros and cons of both skinny jeans and light beer.

Let’s do this. But let’s do this rationally.

First we’ll tackle light beer, a beverage I’ll suck down in the company of Bryan Holt and people of his ilk. There exists no other conceivable scenario in which I’ll drink light beer. I drink light beer, as all self-respecting male twenty-somethings do, solely to make friends and improve relationships. It is an oft-inexpensive vehicle for cavorting with blond AD Pi pledges in loud places in which one only need nod his head, fake a laugh and smile frequently to secure digits and a weekend date. At this – as a means to an end – light beer does indeed suffice (pro).

Still, it tastes like the inside of a toilet bowl (con). And it is in no way manly. Lumberjacks are manly. Crew cuts are manly. Lions eating gazelles are manly. Doc Martens are manly. The Allman Brothers are manly. “Reign In Blood” is manly.

Bud Light is not manly. It is American (pro). It is not manly.

Apart from its mass appeal as a social lubricant, bad beer also possesses that rare quality in which it tastes EXACTLY like nothing else on the planet. In other words, Miller Lite has a monopoly on tasting like Miller Lite and not like Natty Light or Busch Light. And should – on the rare occasion, probably late, late, late at night – you crave this specific flavor of shittily produced beer, said shittily produced beer will quench your thirst and desensitize your palette like only that specific brand of beer can. In this regard, each respective variety is like a McDonald’s hamburger: not the best hamburger by any measure, but the only hamburger capable of filling that bi-pickled, onion and ketchupped, generically-produced foodstuffs niche.

Finally, light beer sponsorships inject a faint whiff of much needed controversy into the marketing mix of otherwise dull-as-wallpaper professional race car drivers.

Kurt Busch: Drinkin', Drivin', Winnin'

Pro.

We turn now to a subject on which I can speak authoritatively… The pitfalls, then, of rocking Levi’s 510 Super Skinny are two-fold. These are, in order of discomfort, a dearth of “breathing” room and, of course, the problematic phenomena in which your unstated intentions of appealing to leather-toting alt chicks are confused for unstated intentions of appealing to leather-toting alt dudes.

(Obligatory PC disclaimer: not that there’s anything wrong with that)

Like cheap beer (except more expensive and more tasteful), skinny jeans create an avenue for talking to women. These are, admittedly, a different sort of women and – judging by the only opinion here that counts (mine) – generally far more attractive. If boot-cuts land the attention of the girl next door, 510s land the tatted-up hipster queen who’s probably got a serious drug problem, but at 11:30 on Thursday night just looks like a CK runway model.

Alexis Krauss, of international buzzband fame

Pro.

Skinny jean wearing also proves more socially responsible than bad beer drinking. You cannot, for instance, wear too much of them, then get into a car and run over your neighbor’s shih tzu (you could technically, but such an occurrence would have seemingly little to do with your choice of pants). A newly washed pair, however, may temporarily cut off circulation in your legs, inducing momentary paralysis of the lower extremities.

Some dude being emo.

In addition, the ankles on a high-quality pair of tight jeans do not stretch, making the overly-exacting chore of dis-panting a logistical impossibility in the early recesses of the morning (when one’s ankles may or may not be prone to swelling). This procedure is so difficult, in fact, that my friend Emily once proposed the ingenius, though morally questionable, web practice of video-taping drunken hipsters attempting inebriated escape from the grasps of their constricting pantlegs.

Con (and pro).

The preceding discourse should make it abundantly clear that the question of tight jeans versus light beer is not simply a matter of preference, but instead speaks to how one fundamentally views the world. This dichotomy is one of paradigms and core philosophy and, as follows, acts a proxy for all material conflicts: Midtown vs. Downtown, classic rock vs. punk, Celtics vs. Lakers, Bryan vs. Robbie.

For my part, I will say this: the next round of IPA is on me, and, aesthetically speaking, I’m open to switching things up… As soon as she stops looking.