Once, there was a man.
Not just any man, but a Paul Ryan man. Paul moved to California as a prophet, an apostle of the Great Northern Alcoholics (local union 563), spreading love, beer and drunken belligerence wherever he roamed. The people of California were happy to receive him. While he preached the worship of booze, he didn't push his faith upon the locals. From Bakersfield to Burbank to Compton, Paul arrived pushing only a smile, and left taking only a hangover as his bounty.
Little did Paul know that he was being led by a force stronger than Guinness and Bass Pale Ale combined*. He was being led by the Great Lord himself, pushed by faith to enter the Food4Less grocery store in Los Angeles and find the true meaning of life.
*Romans 13:47. And thy Lord said unto the Romans, "Thou shall mix Guiness and Bass, creating what thou needs to bring peace to thy enemies." But the Romans told thy Lord to fucketh off, and thus crumbled as a society.
What Paul Ryan found was San Miguel beer.
At a mere $8 per 12-pack, San Miguel shined throughout the grocery aisle like a beacon of carbonated justice, intent on changing the lives of the honky-lipped** throughout the world.
**Chase 3:17. In thy film National Lampoon's Vacation, the ghetto man gaveth Chevy directions out of St. Louis while the ghetto brethren sprayeth painted "honky lips" on his station wagon. And the Lord rejoiced and said "Yay, that is mighty hilarious fare".
Paul was skeptic at first. "Is this Mexican beer?" he asked. "It claims to be the Philippine market's top beer, but it sounds Mexican." The Great Lord assured our prophet that while San Miguel sounds Mexican, it's actually brewed in Asia, and is China and Hong Kong's leading pilsen. "It's Toyota-flavored Budweiser", said God.
Times were troubled for Paul. He was concerned whether the church of San Miguel was right for him. But the more he said the name, the more he liked it. "San Miguel," he said. "San Miguel!" he said again, this time with a cheesy Mexican accent. "I like it."
Faith had sprung eternal in him, like a fountain of natural chocolate from the Earth's delicious core. Paul ran to the Target store in Hollywood, and hassled every attractive woman he could find.
"San Miguel is my friend and now yours! Try us!" he said to the blonde hottie shopping for scented candles.
"I don't know. Is it any good?" asked the hottie, adjusting her fake boobs.
"San Migel is mediocre, and so am I***," said Paul. "Let us go to the Target restroom and fornicate like fat, middle-aged bikers."
***Paul 4:17. "God, why doest all relationships endeth up mediocre?" asked Paul unto thy Lord. And thy Lord responded, "Because it maketh the beer taste better."
And thus the prophecy was fulfilled. San Miguel became the beer of choice in California, Paul became a legend in Hollywood as the man who championed mediocre Asian beer to the masses, and Target gained great popularity throughout the United States despite the store's rapid rise in prices over the last few years.
Are you a San Miguel legend, too, dear reader?
