Summer Sell Out

A new type of scene
To go platinum and clock mad green
AKA, a sellout, the rap definition
Get off that boy, change your mission...

For the past two summers, these pages have included more than just random babbling about Colorado sports and Hip Hop, but readers have been subjected to sophomoric challenges in beer drinking.

2006 started it off proper like, with the Commish going solo in an attempt to drink 528 beers from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Took a test to become an MC and didn’t fail: the number was reached with days to spare and son actually had to slow down as to not reach it too early.

2007 saw the Commish invite along some crew and ante up the booty to 5,280 beers. It looked a bit hairy for awhile, but after some rather unearthly consumption, we reached the number with a few cases to spare.

Now in 2008, a week into the time slot, and the Mission is on hiatus. I mean, what are we talking about here? Counting beers? Not the game I live and die for, but counting beers? I mean how silly is that? Counting beers? It is rather annoying to sift through the memory banks each Monday, trying to remember your imbibing steps of the previous weekend. How lame is writing with a Sharpie the #18 on a keg cup after a particular night of boozing (I be that.) Rolling home with four bottle caps in your pocket to help your count. A tally sheet. Emails to your crew asking for “counts.” All rather cumbersome and a bit of a pain in the ass.

Where would I even go in 08? Equal the 06 of 528? Beat last Summer’s mark of 550? 600?

I mean, in a “normal” Summer, I would spout about the beers from last weekend; the five at the Rockies game, the ice cold Michelob Ultra after the BB08, the four I downed at the Pumphouse in downtown Longmont, the random smoooooooooooooth CLs. Just freaking wack. Yeah, I’m a freaking sellout, abandoning the very premise why this ish started in the first place. The Summer Mission can suck it…here’s to a Summer without dealing with arithmetic. (16)