Right now PBR is in the middle of a legal battle. It’s a little tedious but IN ESSENCE, the company that brews the sweet watery stuff is trying to kick Pabst Blue Ribbon in 2020 when their current deal ends. What this means is that PBR will be unable to mass produce the piss water cheap as fuck beer we all take for granted.
PBR is the cheapest thing you can get at most dive bars in New York (it’s $2 at Welcome to the Johnsons). It’s the beer you buy your friends when you’re getting the next round ($10) and it’s these crushed can corpses you find littering the floor of a venue after a good show.
Pabst is the beer Lana Del Rey chose to sing about when she was still slumming around in New York, and it’s the stuff I’ve spent nights spitting out all over my friends, coating their hair in a gross sticky substance—it’s the piss colored liquid flying around in the mosh pit. IF WE LOSE PBR we lose everything.
Listen, what I’m trying to say in this ode to PBR is that it is the DIY venue and rent controlled apartment of beers—I mean who besides them have been so dedicated to churning out run of the mill, drinking it because its the cheapest thing around, beer?
Your other similar options just don’t make the cut—Bud Light is gross and feels like that dude who’s wearing Dickie’s but that you definitely know has a trust fund, Miller Highlife feels like the tiny hat of beers (a skater who texts you incessentantly but pretends you don’t exist at shows), and everything else is too god damn high brow.
After all of these years of bodily abuse and borderline major organ failure, PBR is one of the few things from my youth that I can still stomach. SO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND STICKY DIVE BAR FLOORS SOMEONE SAVE PBR.