In an attempt to move towards areas of literary usefulness, I offer the reader “love”. Yes, “love”, the very word that triggers a spectrum of reactions, both good and bad, we only wish we could control through sanity and beer. We cannot. Love is stronger than beer, more complex than beer, and knows not of sanity. Beer comes in a can and always tastes good; love comes in packaging less tidy and convenient, and only tastes good until it starts tasting like acid rain. Many have noted that the search for love is like the search for beer, but with more rejection and out of pocket cost. Combining these explorations at a local tavern can cut down on the economic and emotional trauma associated with both. But, in the end, health experts agree that beer is sold for a price that can be calculated by people who know stuff about math, whereas love is only calculated when people are willing to fake it with people who know stuff about math. Like I said… complicated.

Perhaps because of its complex nature, love is popular in the same way that using a computer (capable of disarming a nuclear threat from across the globe) for word processing is popular. The seduction of all that potential self-importance is just too good to pass up; even if the love in practice is fairly pedestrian and boring (to everyone else), the sensation of possessing something that may eventually lead to stuff that’s really cool, like diving off a cliff to save an amour, or screaming romantic lexis from a sinking boat, keeps us focused on the prize.Ever wonder why people always want love when they drink beer, but nobody actually needs a drink when they find love? ‘Cause love is stronger than beer… except when making love… then, and only then, beer is stronger. [Editor's Note: pretend paragraph contains logic.]

There is no escaping love, no matter how cynical or unromantic you may be. Believe me, I’ve tried. Just when you think you’ve ushered it out of your life for good, you get really drunk, one thing leads to another, and suddenly your life has become an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, only with less intrigue and super hot people. I suppose it could be worse. Love could resemble an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit or The Biggest Loser (not that there’s anything wrong with sexual predators or fat people, I’m just sayin’). And once you’ve been reacquainted with love, all its formally sickening and supposedly unpopular qualities instantaneously become fashionable again. Sort of like Madonna– only without the hassle of changing out of the pointy bra. Love has staying power, even when it’s dressed like an 80’s tart; it never goes out of style, even when you really wish it would. I mean, I just threw up in my mouth while writing that last sentence, and yet love survives my hackneyed descriptions and metaphoric assaults, remaining as powerful and resilient as ever.But is the world actually a better place with this unrestrained force running rampant throughout the hearts of its citizens?

Beer has been demonized for its supposed addictive and damaging qualities, but love remains unscathed by such critique. There are no anti-love special interest groups and, as is often the case, the media is soft on the issue. It’s all part of a massive love-wing conspiracy that has crippled our ability to realize just how dependent we all are on love to fill our daily lives with meaning. This conspiracy is unacceptable and must be stopped immediately!

I see only one way to break the reckless pattern of dependence and abuse: from now on the human race must call “beer”, “love”, and “love”, “beer”. During the ensuing confusion, people will miss-associate the ills of “original beer” with “original love” and vice versa. This should create just enough confusion in order for everyone to forget why the decision was made in the first place, and gravitate to safer means of entertainment, such as elicit drug use or coconut cream pie wrestling.

If you’d like to join the revolution, Receiving Me? will be selling bumper stickers online that read, “Beer, beer me do… you know I beer you!” and “Love is proof that God beers us and wants us to be happy!”– And now, I will officially take back everything I ever said about this publication being a money pit… ‘cause the Benjamins are about to come pouring on in, and the only thing I like more than beer or love, are Benjamins. But that’s a subject for another day!

‘Till next time… B’love you!