[Caff Note: Give a cordial welcome to new OL contributor Sneaky Pete.]

The magic behind HBO’s Eastbound & Down is the dark authentic grittiness in which an idealistic plot is laid out early on each season, and the sadistically twisted corruption of that ideal as the season unfolds. In some primordial way, it reminds us of the daily incertitude of our own insignificant existence. All this dark meat is surrounded by a sesame seed bun of high-brow intellectual wit and low-brow slapstickery, making its esoteric depth quite palatable to the masses.

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I’m stoked for the third and final season of Eastbound & Down. While it’s a bummer that our time with Kenny (Josh Beckett) Powers is coming to an end, I like the idea of them riding off into the sunset before the schtick wears too thin.

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It’s back, muthafugga, it’s back.

If you followed OL in the formative days, you know all about the glory that is the Friday Brew Review. If you’re new to this scene, let me clue you in: I like the taste of beer. I like the way it makes me feel. I like its ability to make my jokes funnier and women seem more attractive. So for your benefit, I will drink cold ones and describe the experience.

It’s pretty straight-forward.

So after a sabbatical that saw me averting death, deciding on a career, and becoming a more positive member of society, I’ve decided to bring back the Brew Review. Truthfully, I can’t guarantee that I’ll toss one up every week. But what I can promise is that when I do unholster the gun, I’m going to smoke every motherfucker in the saloon.

That’s right, I’m like a retired gunfighter, being called out of retirement for one more fucking showdown.

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