There’s an old joke that gets passed around back home, and probably around the world, in which the U.S. is the target. It goes:
“What do American beer and sex in a canoe have in common?”
“They’re both fuckin’ close to water!”
Geddit? I think the first time I heard it, I probably laughed, because until that point in my life, all the experience I’d had with American brews was what could be found in your average Australian bottle shop was Budweiser and Michelob Ultra, the latter being somehow less flavorful than breathing air.
But in this long-awaited and uneducated (but not unsolicited!) critical analysis, I’m here to tell you: that joke is full of shit. American beer rules.