"and the cheapest beer you can buy". ROFL. In my younger days working the trade counter at a local paint company, we had a fellow named Tom, who drank "Club" beer. And he could lay the foulest silent farts I've ever smelled. His joy was was to walk through one door, walk by us laying a trail, then exit out the other door. My buddy Art and I could feel the warm, moist air breeze waft up our backsides and across the counter towards our customers. We had no escape, and try as we might, we were guilty.