He watches the world like a bloated vulture atop an ivory tower awaiting the expiration of the wretched and the damned. For most, life is a journey versus a destination, but his entire life has been about reaching the lofty space he occupies. His personal voyage is over. Now he’s a fixture on a nearly astral plane of governance where the haves rule the have-nots. To get there, he painted on an uncharacteristically pleasant public-facing persona to garner ballots bearing his name. The road to his enviable place in the political hierarchy was paved with those slips of electoral parchment; so seemingly small and insignificant alone, yet so powerful when lumped together to convey majority-rule. But long gone are his days of groveling to curry the favor of the unwashed masses. A clever politico knows such tactics are only necessary the first time around. The Highbinder now employs more efficient, foolproof tactics for ensuring reelection and acceleration of his agenda.
There’s always a loophole to exploit, so long as you look hard enough, and never a shortage of big-wheels to grease nor citizens to strong-arm. Failing all that, he’s a man of means and there is nothing a fat wad of greenbacks can’t take care of. This is his stance, his credo. It’s never been about his constituents, simply about having constituents upon which to impose his will. It feeds his ego, that most vital component of his being. And what good is money and power without status and the unchallengeable ability to do whatever you please, even if it flies in the face of everything you promised to get elected, everything your position supposedly stands for and the entire democratic system you’ve sworn to uphold and protect? His very existence and death-grip on the crown answer that question louder than words ever could. But to meet with him in his palace on-high at least means indulging in the refined raspberry-, wine- and oak-kissed, barrel-aged nectar bearing his name. Unlike him, it is subtle, refined and true. Snag a few bottles on your way out—he owes you at least that much.
Subculture: Feral | Style: Blended Barrel-Aged Sour Ale with Raspberries | Alcohol-by-Volume: 5.7%
Availability: For sale exclusively in 500ml bottles at the Societe Tasting Room