Yesterday at Chuck's brunch, some dude who showed up the party rather late --long after the rest of the beer was already gone -- joined the rest of us on the patio drinking a Corona. I don't know the guy though he knew most of the other folks there and works at Crooked Beat. Anyway, earlier in the conversation when someone mentioned my Clap Your Hands Say Yeah t-shirt I overheard him saying something snarky about the band. Something about an interview he'd read and lead singer Alec Ounsworth soundling like David Byrne blah blah blah. I didn't hear the gist of what he said but I could tell by his tone that it was typical record store snobspeak. I'm quite fluent in record store snobspeak so I know it when I hear it even when I can't hear what's being said.

So anyway, Crooked Beat dude moves to a more comfortable chair he sits down with his (lime-less) Corona and makes the following statement:

Real men don't need fruit in their beer.

To which Peter and I both responded (I mean this couldn't have been scripted any better):

Real men don't drink Corona.

Then he tried to lamely come back with something like:

Well at least I have a beer.

No seriously, his comeback really was something like that. I suppose I could have come back with something else but didn't really care that much. Besides, I think the insult in stereo from Peter and myself was effective enough.

The moral of the story is, talk about Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and fuuuuuurious anger.

Well, probably not but it sure did make it that much more satisfying in this instance.