This passage comes to us from the “pool report” on Barack Obama’s trip to Raleigh, North Carolina, yesterday. A pool report is sort of a cheat sheet for reporters, a summary of events written by a reporter who was present for those who were not. This one was written by Michael Powell, a fantastic writer with the New York Times.
As Obama was campaigning, he stopped in a bar called The Raleigh Times, in a building that used to be occupied by a newspaper of the same name. Powell writes:
Obama found himself momentarily beerless. As the primary season
has semi-bizarrely centered of late on his eating and drinking (he
stands accused of doing too little of either), he moved quickly.
“Where’s my beer?” he asked, loud enough for the reporters to hear.
What’s your pleasure, Mr. Candidate? He eyed an array of mighty
fine micro brews on tap, from the loverly amber Maharaja IPA to the
“naturally cloudy” Blanche Bruxelles. He zeroed in on the mass market.
“PBR [Pabst Blue Ribbon for the uninitiated],” he said.
An Illinois man recently asked to be buried in a casket in the
shape of a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, but I digress. Obama held up the
pint, said “Cheers!”, and quickly took a sip, then another, then
another. Having established he was a sport albeit not an inebriated one,
he set to working the crowd.
I don’t know whether to be impressed that the Democratic nominee for president chose Pabst over all of those fancy beers or to be depressed that he apparently didn’t finish his beer. (That’s the kind of thing that could lose an election in Wisconsin.)
But I do think it’s funny that Michael Powell, knowing his readers are from the national media, felt the need to translate “PBR” for them.
Who says the Washington press corps is out of touch?