I recently picked up a copy of the inaugural edition of a new beer magazine called The Beer Connoisseur. It is a pretty good rag with several good beer reviews, features on a few breweries, some beer and food articles and a great feature on Anchor Brewing, Fritz Maytag, and the start of the American Craft Beer Industry. Hell, they even mentioned WV's own Forks of the Cheat Winery in an article titled "Life Outside of Beer". But one article in particular got me thinking. It was the very last article of the magazine called "The State vs. Beer" which was about all the archaic laws still in existence throughout the US.

This article made me both happy and sad at the same time. Right now I am going to tell you why it made me sad.

A big focus of the one page article was the recent trend of raising the alcohol limits in several states. They mention Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Alabama and the recent change in their laws. But there was no mention of West Virginia. I got to thinking about it, and this seems to be a common thing. Every non local article I have read regarding raising alcohol limits, be it in the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, Beer Advocate, or The Beer Connoisseur, either only mentions WV in passing or fails to mention us at all. So I asked myself, "Self, why is this?" and the only answer I can come up with is that we, the Craft Beer drinkers and residents of WV have not made enough noise.

Looks like the ad agency thinks Miller Lite is piss too.

This is an actual ad that was pitched and turned down by Miller Lite Execs. Cant say I blame them.

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My favourite public-house, the Moon Under Water, is only two minutes from a bus stop, but it is on a side-street, and drunks and rowdies never seem to find their way there, even on Saturday nights.

Its clientele, though fairly large, consists mostly of "regulars" who occupy the same chair every evening and go there for conversation as much as for the beer.

If you are asked why you favour a particular public-house, it would seem natural to put the beer first, but the thing that most appeals to me about the Moon Under Water is what people call its "atmosphere."

To begin with, its whole architecture and fittings are uncompromisingly Victorian. It has no glass-topped tables or other modern miseries, and, on the other hand, no sham roof-beams, ingle-nooks or plastic panels masquerading as oak. The grained woodwork, the ornamental mirrors behind the bar, the cast-iron fireplaces, the florid ceiling stained dark yellow by tobacco-smoke, the stuffed bull's head over the mantelpiece —everything has the solid, comfortable ugliness of the nineteenth century.