Pli-ny the Younger was a beer Of who AJ had held so dear; the last whose taste was good and free between the Vineyards and the Sea. His foam was thick, his color gold Like his brother's, but flavor bold; the countless hops in Yakima were rocking like Metallica. But long ago he hopped away, and where he dwells Russians won't say; for into River fell his glass in Sonoma where the brews pass.
I missed the cutoff to order Pliny online for this years release. If you hadn’t figured it out.