Has Guinness Become…Uninspired?

Me approaching Inishbuzzed

A few years back, friend of the newslett Brockwell put a Google Flights alert on my desk. Ireland. One week. 400 bucks. Roundtrip. Turns out Scandinavian Air had some open seats. Even three months later, upon boarding, I had the entire damn row of four to myself. A Pioneer lie-flat as they refer to it in the commercial airline industry.

Ireland fucking rocked. Guinness on Guinness. We hit The Gravediggers in Dublin. A 150 year old pub next to a cemetery with a sign that reads “NO DRINKING AT THE CEMETERY” and a 5 PM afterwork crowd drinking Guinness all across the cemetery. We hit Galway. Pub hopped and Guinness slugged with new friends on most nights. Took it easy with a pint or two on the off days. I witnessed Brockwell cry during a trad tune about the famine. I sipped another G at sea, as I sailed by the Cliffs to Inishmore. Did some other cultural (tourist) stuff too. Like hit the Guinness Factory (and skybar). It’s one of the most popular beers in Africa. Who knew.

My trip to Ireland was understandably the apex of personal Guinness appreciation in my lifetime. It was also a time that it felt a little less insufferable to say things like…

“If it shares a tap with Bud Light, I’ll probably just do the Bud Light. The temperature is all off.”

Or other declarations like…

“The thing about Gravediggers is Bourdain didn’t put it on his show because the pint was too good there.”

But this past year, Guinness has gone the way of brown liquor. Another prop or hobby associated with a very modern phenomenon I’ll coin as soft masculinity. A delicate dance for the modern left of center man hoping to simultaneously swoon art chicks and be the absolute boy. It’s like soft diplomacy but replace the American Red Cross with G splitting. A counter measure to all out ally posturing as well as redneckerism that somehow has turned into posturing itself.

And for a moment, I was the Henry Kissinger of soft masculinity. I, of course, drank Guinness but didn’t care for matcha. Watched Industry for Yaz but also for its exploration of sexual fluidity. Could indulge in a Clairo track at the kickback and a Morgan Wallen slappper in the car alone. Liked Scott Galloway but deeply respected Kara Swisher. Would say things like “If I’m drunk enough, you can pierce my ear,” yet never seemed to get that ear pierced. There were two words you’d never hear out my mouth. The first was “problematic”. The second? “Freedom.”

Soft masculinity is a cowboy with stick and poke tattoos. The stock broker who wears Bostons and sips rosé on the weekend. A man wise enough to avoid bookstore tote bags but also the UFC at all costs.

And most of all, a MAN who can stomach a full bodied Guinness. Split the G. Boys only. But ladies? This ain’t no boring ass patriarchal Bud Light sipped through the male gaze. It’s a cultural exchange. A playful drinking competition. It looks cool on Portra 800 low light film. It’s cheap enough to have a few.

Guinness was the calling card for soft masculinity. So much so that it has become…uninspired?

Yet a cold pint does sound pretty damn crispy come Saturday.

Fine. This St. Patricks Day(ish) I’m still drinking Guinness. But I’m splitting no Gs. I’m also gonna do shrooms. That’s also something I do on St. Patricks Day.

Gooms…Low key kinda soft masculinity rising.

One Fit For the Weekend

DDL was Irish in this, right?