once a year danny the street finds his way to somerset.
cavalier showmen lineup for their chance to grab the microphone and sing grand their grand exuberances to the audience. seals dress like lions, lions dress like monkeys, monkeys imitate great apes, and on and on. high heels clack, clack, clack across the brick pavement as the giant and mighty oliphant dances and trumpets across the land.
it's a place of freedom, of perpetual cabaret. it's where gandalf takes a strong hit of his pipe, clutches his staff, and exclaims, "dance, you fools!" it's where the somber-faced mulder and scully do the shag-and-scooby dance; their shoulders hunching up and down to the rhythm as the techno-color dream sun bounces fat beats that echo into each other from the brewery's concrete walls.
there are some in this world who would have danny the street destroyed. the fly fisherman of the dank river styx cast barbed thoughts at the streets, trying to penetrate in with a malicious fervor. the Central Slug Agency sends it's slimy agents to try and cover everything in a slick muck. the men from n.o.w.h.e.r.e. who wish to rid the world of it's quirks.
we think little of them and in a different way we can say the same thing about them about us.
so please dance on and be merry at our --
perpetual cabaret | pilsner | 5.8% abv