Well, the vortex bottle is a bottle with a grooved neck, so when you pour the beer, it sort of spirals around in circles before entering either A. your mouth or B. your pint glass. You know, all the better to unlock that classic triple hops brewed Pilsner taste.
In the commercial, an appraisal expert working at a generic Antiques Roadshow ripoff show notices a man drinking from a Vortex bottle. He inquires about said bottle, and is so enthralled by its majesty, that he drops the priceless family heirloom he is holding in order to go grab a Miller Lite from the lobby. Had I been there, I may have been inspired to grab a Civil War-era musket and stage an impromptu re-enactment of the Battle of Little Bighorn. Especially the part where George A. Custer and Crazy Horse team up to murder a douchey appraisal expert, reconcile their differences while laughing over his bloodied corpse, and open the first Waffle House. But I digress.
The point is, I’m a little irritated that Miller Lite thinks I’m a complete and total moron.
First of all, selling Miller Lite on taste with “Taste Greatness” is a mistake. No one who hasn’t scalded off all their taste buds with a hot curling iron believes that Miller Lite is the best-tasting beer on the market.
What’s the justification? It’s “Triple Hops Brewed.” Since the majority of the U.S. populace knows nothing or next to nothing about beer, “Triple Hops Brewed” sounds impressive. That must mean they use 3 times the hops that their competitors do, right? That’s the sneaky thing about advertising - They’re not saying that Bud Light, Coors Light, Sam Adams, Heineken, etc. aren’t THBed (just invented an acronym), just that Miller Lite IS. But you’re left with that perception. Well, if you’re an idiot. Because whatever effect this THBing process has, you sure can’t taste it. Just because you add an infintesimal amount of hops three separate times, that doesn’t make your beer hoppy. Or good. But that’s the magic of gimmickry.
Look, Miller Lite serves a purpose in the beer world. It’s cheap. Its blandness makes it impossible to hate, but just as impossible to love. I don’t have a real problem with it, and I even drink it sometimes. But via its advertising, Miller Lite is a piece of bologna trying to masquerade itself as a T-Bone steak. Just be yourself, Miller Lite. Be funny. Talk about having a good time. But don’t try to convince me you’re Stone or Dogfish Head, k?
And that brings me right back to the beginning, the Vortex bottle. Am I supposed to believe that swirling watered-down pee beer around in a circle is going to bring out a hitherto undiscovered plethora of flavor? Or that the Coors vented wide mouth can is going to take me on a magical journey to the Rocky Mountains? What’s next? The Bud Light Flavor Rhombus? The Milwaukee’s Best bottle with a corked top? I’ve got a better idea; take all that money that you’re throwing into R&D, and make a better beer. Because good beer doesn’t need to course itself through a Krazy straw to taste great. (See: Nevada, Sierra).
Until next time,
Ryan aka “The Vortex.”