If your debit card's been stolen, and you're left with a troika of crumpled one-dollar bills plus a few coins and fuzzballs in your pocket, this'll work.
Big Flats, 1901? Sounds like the site of a fictional railroad accident, implying not refreshment but derailed coal cars oozing steam and death.
Pairing the adjective "flat" with the noun "beer" takes a certain kind of marketing genius, the sort Walgreens tapped to help sell their ersatz lager.
In a world where Schaffer's is as hard to find as Tibetan hash, where Red, White, and Blue has gone dark and the beacon of Old Milwaukee Light gets eclipsed by micro/craft brews with fancy Madison Avenue names like Twisted Limb Nut Brown Ale and Pullman Car Porter, where does Big Flats fit?
If it didn't look so much like "Big Farts" on the can, it'd have more of a chance.
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