A satirical weekly article highlighting fictious moments in Midwestern history
By Silas P. Whitmore, February 28, 1881
There are many things a Midwesterner fears: a failed corn harvest, a neighbor’s disapproving glare at a potluck, and, worst of all, the tragic waste of good beer. And so it was, on a fateful winter’s day in 1881, that Milwaukee suffered a disaster so uniquely German, so profoundly Wisconsinite, that one wonders if it was the work of some vengeful temperance advocate with divine connections.
The trouble began at the Melms Brewery, a fine establishment devoted to keeping Milwaukee’s citizens pleasantly buzzed through the long winter months. On February 28th, as the workers went about their business, one of the massive fermentation tanks—large enough to drown a horse, which nearly happened—suffered a catastrophic failure. With a deafening crack, the tank burst, unleashing thousands of gallons of lager upon the brewery floor like a golden tidal wave of regret.
The flood showed no mercy. Barrels were swept from their places, workers were sent scrambling for higher ground, and in the chaos, the beer found its way out of the brewery and into the streets. Before long, a full-fledged beer river was flowing through the neighborhood, turning sidewalks into slick, malty hazards and filling basements with what some may have optimistically called “free inventory.”
Local residents, in true Midwestern fashion, responded with a mix of horror and resourcefulness. Some scrambled to salvage what they could, wielding buckets, mugs, and whatever else could be repurposed as an emergency drinking vessel. Others simply wept for the lost beer, their tears mixing tragically with the frothy remains of what had once been Milwaukee’s pride.
Though no lives were lost—except, perhaps, the souls of those who had to watch so much fine lager go to waste—the event left its mark on the city. The Melms Brewery would later be absorbed into the larger Milwaukee brewing empire, and safety measures were eventually improved to prevent future beer-based tsunamis.
So let this be a lesson to all who dare underestimate the power of Midwestern lager: beer, like the people of Wisconsin, is strong, stubborn, and always looking for an excuse to flood the streets.
But the gutter is where the beer belongs!
Look at the Milwaukean celebrity Mike “RLM” Stoklasa.
Mike ingests large volumes of heavily taxed estrogen/carb mix.
Manboobs to rival those of Meatloaf, talking nonsense, bullying Rich Evans, wasting time, and I wonder how his liver looks.
Just because the Merry Moichant has a beer for sale, “our people” do not have to fall into that trap (yeasty vat).
Pour the beer down the drain, I say. The active ingredient in necessary hydration is clean water.