In Defense Of: Beast

AlcoholEdu taught some of us a lot of things — we all know that one kid who brags about getting a 90 on the final exam — and some of us not so much, especially if you put the videos on mute so you could watch brainless YouTube videos instead and chose “C” for all the answers on all the tests. However, the “educational” online program never prepared anyone for how Princeton’s eating clubs would covertly encourage students to practice better drinking habits.

How exactly do the eating clubs do this, you ask? One might think that serving a type of beer called Milwaukee’s Best, a.k.a. “Beast,” the eating clubs trick their unsuspecting patrons into thinking that beer is there to fuel their exciting games of beer pong and Ring of Fire and to enable them to dance approximately seven times better, forget that they just failed a midterm and become more attractive than they really are.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Luckily for you, this article is a revealing and shocking expose that challenges all things you once thought you knew about drinking at eating clubs. The truth is, dear readers, that while you were misguided into thinking that Beast had an alcohol content of 4.2 percent, in actuality the Miller Brewing Company struck a deal with the Princeton eating club presidents way back in 2001. What you thought was 4.2% alcohol is actually 0% alcohol, 90% water and 10% carbonated cat urine.

Yes, this revelation may seem unbelievable and difficult to accept. And, to those of you who subscribe to the idea that the eating clubs serve different kinds of beers, listen up: The difference in taste in beer from club to club you were so convinced you observed until today is in fact differing concentrations of cat piss, which is what constitutes the flavor in the Beast that you know and love. The percentage of urine in the “beer” is predetermined by each eating club president and the Miller Brewing Company.

Skeptics of this newly exposed truth may question how you then are able to experience a noticeable difference in your behavior, memory patterns and dancing ability after consuming sizeable amounts of Beast, even without pregaming. To that, the response is only two words long: placebo effect. You were so convinced that the alcohol would hit your system and magically make you a more interesting person that it actually happened.

Perhaps now the most intriguing question is why the eating club presidents took such a risky gamble on the whole placebo effect thing in the first place by swapping out alcoholic beer with caturinic beer. Well, the first and foremost reason was to cut costs, as water and cat urine don’t cost nearly as much as actual alcohol does. There are also rumors that the president of the University convinced — read: bribed — the eating club presidents to stop serving alcohol at the clubs. Campus conspiracy theorists believe that AlcoholEdu played a part in convincing the club presidents — they wanted to reduce incidents of alcohol poisoning among students, a.k.a. rates of getting PMCed or McCoshed, with the goal of making it seem as though students actually paid attention to the online course. The effects have indeed been evident, as rates of getting PMCed have declined steadily since 2001. The fact that there are still students who are hospitalized or taken to McCosh for alcohol-related illnesses must result from pregaming or allergies to cat urine.

If you think back to the last time you had a Beast — the last time that you can remember, anyway — and really think about the taste, it all makes perfect sense.