Craft beers benefit

And if that weren't enough... craft beer was also on CNBC today!

Boutiqe Beers

Craft beer flows strong through recession, with Justin Phillips, Beer Table and Paul Gatza, Brewers Association.

Challenges Facing Craft Brewers in Recession

Here's a really good round table discussion on Fox Business with brewery owners Dan Kopman from Schlafly Beer, Brett Vanderkamp from New Holland Brewing Company, and Rick Rauch from The Gilded Otter on competing with large breweries during a recession.

Beer Wars: A Tasty New Hope, Part 5

EXTERIOR: BREWOOINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SUNSET.

The gargantuan rock formations are shrouded in a strange
heady foam and the ominous sounds of aluminum cans
cracking open fills the air. Art moves through the rock
canyon without a care in the world. He inadvertently farts.
Suddenly, he hears a distant, hard, metallic sound. He
stops for a moment half expecting snow to start falling and
a silver train to rush by. Convinced he is alone, he continues
on his merry way.

Ahead of him a pebble tumbles down the steep canyon wall
and a small dark figure darts into the shadows. A bit
further up the canyon a slight movement inside a cracked
boulder reveals a pair of beer goggled eyes in the dark
recesses.

The unsuspecting Art waddles along the rugged trail until
suddenly, out of nowhere, a powerful blast of air freshener
shoots from the rocks and engulfs him in an eerie glow. He
manages one short fart before he topples over onto his
back. His eyes flicker closed, then open, then closed again.
Out of the rocks scurry three Worts, no taller than Art.
They holster strange and complex weapons as they
cautiously approach him. They wear grubby cloaks and
their faces are shrouded so only their glowing beer goggled
eyes can be seen. They hiss and make odd guttural sounds
as they heave Art onto their shoulders and carry him off
down the trail.

EXTERIOR: BREWOOINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SUDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.

Eight Worts carry Art out of the canyon to a huge keg-like
vehicle the size of a four-story house. They adhere a small
coaster to the side of Art's head and put him under a large
vacuum tube on the side of the vehicle. One of the Worts
flick a switch and the little guy is sucked up into the giant
machine faster than shotgunning a Budweisenheimer. The
filthy little Worts scurry like rats up small ladders and
enter the main cabin of the transport.

INTERIOR: SUDCRAWLER -- HOLD AREA.

The hold area of the giant sudcrawler is dim. Art pulls a
small flashwand out of his satchel, flips it on and begins to
search the cargo area. The narrow beam swings across
junk and an array of drunks. He lets out a pathetic fart
and stumbles off toward what appears to be a door.

INTERIOR: SUDCRAWLER -- PRISON AREA.

Art enters a wide room with a four-foot ceiling. In the
middle of the scrap heap sits a dozen or so drunks in
various states of inebriation. Some are engaged in
mumbled conversation, while others simply puke on
themselves. A voice of recognition calls out from the
gloom.

TRIPEO: Art Deetzo! It's you! It's you!

A battered Tripeo scrambles up to Art and embraces
him.

EXTERIOR: BREWOOINE -- ROCK CANYON -- SUDCRAWLER -- SUNSET.

The enormous Sudcrawler lumbers off toward the
twin suns, which are slowly setting over a distant
mountain ridge.

EXTERIOR: BREWOOINE -- DESERT -- DAY.

Four Imperial Beertroopers mill about in front of the
half-buried lifepod that brought Art and Lee to
Brewooine. They're sucking down cans of macro-swill.
A trooper yells to an officer some distance away.

FIRST TROOPER: Someone was in the pod. The tracks go off in this direction.

A second trooper picks a small metal beer can tab out
of the sand and gives it to the first trooper.

SECOND TROOPER: Look, sir... drunks.

EXTERIOR: BREWOOINE -- DUNES.

The Sudcrawler moves slowly down a great sand dune.

INTERIOR: SUDCRAWLER.

Tripeo and Art bounce along inside the cramped prison
chamber like two rednecks in the back of a pickup. Art
appears to be asleep.

TRIPEO: Wake up! Wake up!

Suddenly the shaking and bouncing of the Sudcrawler
stops. Tripeo's fist bangs into Art's head and wakes him
up. He lets out a noxious fart right in the direction of
Lee's face. At the far end of the long chamber a hatch
opens, filling the chamber with blinding white light. A
dozen or so Worts make their way through the odd
assortment of drunks.

TRIPEO: We're doomed.

A Wort starts moving toward them.

TRIPEO: Do you think they'll throw us in detox?

Art responds with a mournful fart as the Wort
approaches and raises his Febreze-gun.

TRIPEO: Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Will this never end?

TO BE CONTINUED...

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