What Kind of Shitty Bars Is This Republican Flack Going To

Here is your latest installment of the show that will never end: Republican faux-grievance on behalf of a Common Man who does not exist.

Conservative flack Patrick Ruffini, who worked on George W. Bush’s re-election campaign and then co-founded a consulting firm that has no discernible purpose, posted this tweet today railing against “working professionals” (Ruffini runs a company) who “live in cities” (Ruffini’s listed location is Washington, D.C.) and “like to drink imported beer.” Wait, what?

It was then pointed out to Ruffini, who you might remember for his helpful advice to Democratic presidential hopefuls to Be More Like Republicans, that this stereotype is painfully outdated. It’s also extremely wrong, as craft beer is eating up an increasing share of the U.S. beer market. And so Ruffini then switched gears to whine about “elitist ivory tower alienation”, and more importantly, how he can’t get a regular damn beer in a regular damn bar anymore. This, according to the guy who runs a political consulting firm in Washington, D.C., is Socialism.

Ah yes, that classic bastion of small business entrepreneurship: Joseph Stalin’s Soviet Union. Unfortunately for Ruffini, big beer distributors are buying up craft breweries like hotcakes, so it’s not going to change anytime soon.

But setting aside the effortless way in which Ruffini floated from declaring that real Americans drink piss beer to whining about how he can’t ever get that kind of beer in a bar, the question must be asked: What kind of goofy ass bar is this guy frequenting?? I’m not a huge beer fan myself (I’d rather have bourbon, or gin, or the Claw), but with the exception of craft breweries and fancy beer bars, I’ve never once in my life—in my decade of going to bars—been to one that didn’t have at least Budweiser or Miller or Coors or PBR or some kind of regular domestic beer.

My solution: stop going to bars on K Street, you doofus. Maybe it’s time to get out of D.C., and go catch up with the rest of us in Real America—where the Coors Heavy flows like water, and no one yearns for the hated beverage known as “India Pale Ale” ever again.