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Hey PBR, I’m Tecate And I’m The New Popular Shitty Beer In Town

I don’t know if you got the memo, PBR, but you’re old-fucking-news. Like, seriously dude, take a look around you. No one is interested in your shit anymore, bro. It’s time to pack up your bags and get the fuck out of here. It’s honestly so depressing just how sad you are. Everyone feels so bad not because you’re getting the boot, but because you’re such a fucking pathetic loser and sticking around even though everyone knows you’re fucking through.

People are sick of your red, white, and blue ribbon bullshit. Your free ride is finally over, man. And no one is happier than me, Tecate, Beer Advocate rated as the best shitty beer in the biz. Thank God everyone else finally figured it out, I was literally about to go apeshit. I’m surprised it took people this long to realize that self-imposed awards are totally crap and mean absolutely nothing. The jig is up, dude.

You might’ve noticed if your head wasn’t so far up your own ass that no one is drinking your juice anymore. A dive bar in Berkeley just sold the last tall boy in existence to a guy who biked there and he killed himself immediately afterward. Wanna take a jab at why? Because he realized that he must’ve looked like a complete and utter asshat consuming your piss beer in public. And do you know what the best part is? At this very moment, hundreds of thousands of bar-goers are buying me with a tequila shot for $8 and think it’s a stellar deal (fucking idiots). That’s how over your shit is bro. Get used to it.

Who is drinking me, your retarded-self asks? Hipsters, frat boys, and wanna-be-cool dads – everyone who used to choke on your garbage water before I came to town. Trust me, your PBR skunk couldn’t be further from their limited-capacity minds. And with each sip their amount of thinking power goes further down, so don’t get your fag ass hopes up. It’s only a matter of time until rich snobs and trust fund kids start downing me on the reg, I can feel it. And pretty soon everyone who lives in Portland, Brooklyn, Boston, Austin, LA, and San Fran and has a six figure salary is gonna start drinking me like there’s no tomorrow. And all the people they drink it with who aren't on their level will believe that their choice of shitty beer erases any obvious pretentiousness that was previously hidden behind ironic t-shirts, full sleeve tattoos and Macklemore haircuts.

I do gotta say, though, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be. Fashion ebbs and flows much like the country’s choice of which shitty beer to drink in unquestioning unison – I'm the next one in line. Because when you think about it, all you're really doing when you're drinking Tecate is making the statement that says, "I hope you appreciate how cool I am for not giving a shit about how this tastes." So I guess I’m saying thank you? Just kidding. You haven't done shit for me, you gullible ass hoe. Actually, I’d like to take the time to say this: do everyone else a favor and go back to your hillbilly dick hometown and quietly fade into oblivion for me. Or just blow your brains out. No one gives a fuck. You’re already dead anyway.

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