The Monday after Thanksgiving is one of the cruelest of the year. A country isn't really worthy of the name until it has a National Day Of Feasting, (and a beer and an airline, according to Frank Zappa) but I feel like a good feast, especially a winter-ish one, could really do with a National Week Of Hibernation subsequently. But we all have our roles to play in the national ant colony, and so we waddled back to our jobs, office chairs protesting perhaps more loudly than we ourselves did at the morning's alarm. My role at Thanksgiving, however, was considerably more enjoyable: Bringer Of The Beer. Here's how that went.

Craft brews have officially tipped in the Malcolm Gladwell sense. Most bars and restaurants now feature at least one tap dedicated to interesting beers, and brew-focused establishments seem to be springing up everywhere, to the delight of the hop head.

The following Froth column was originally scheduled to run last week but got sucked into a worm hole. Pardon any time related ambiguity.  

Congratulations to those of you who are now able to read this after having been gracefully ushered back into the 19th[strikethrough] 21st century by our benevolent dictators at CL&P. There's a scene in Gladiator where Djimon Hounsou's character sees the Roman coliseum for the first time and says "I did not know men were capable of such things." I imagine that's a little what it's like to use an oven or turn on the lights after a dozen days whose rhythms were controlled by the Sun's rise and fall; writing notes on the back of a wooden shovel with a lump of coal by candle light, that kind of thing. The long nights of the winter can now once again be banished by the sorcery of compact fluorescent bulbs, but some elements of the wintertide are to be embraced, like seasonal brews.

Modern hipsterism is a weird and annoying thing. Here's how it goes: people had settled into a fairly stable fashion landscape by the time the millennium rolled around so they naturally started looking around for the next big thing. Lacking any creativity or new ideas of their own, they decided to take the most hideous and outdated clothing they could find and wear it as publicly as possible because "Haha, aren't I funny and clever and please oh god look at me." Since wearing ugly clothes is easier than actually being interesting, and neon hats from 1992 were cheaper than water, it caught on. Then everybody found out about The Cobrasnake and now the landscape is littered with "Aren't I cool for not looking cool but really that's what's cool about it but I'm too cool to acknowledge I actually really think this is cool." It's the Inception of pop culture trends, and somehow beer got caught up in it. I'm sure PBR doesn't mind that every idiot with an ironic mustache and Ladyhawke on their iPod has to have a Blue Ribbon tallboy in their hand, but this is the acid reflux disease of trends. It was ugly the first time, let's not have it again. Let's try something new, and let the revolution start with beer.