March 32,1977 Pilsner And Steinfuller Pass On Tradition Siglinda Steinfuller, the Schlitz Dean of Beer, has traced her roots back to Hopsundmalt, a quaint village in the southeast part of northwest Bavaria. It was there her great grand father, Horst Steinfuller, met Brunhilde Tankard. Horst was In our last issue, dated March 10, we A Strange Poem With Typographical Errors Sir Lancelot grabbag shudder grammophone Hindu beeswax thunder -- yesterday we called to the gravy moon an inner pizza way-way tune I sang to a jinx-god I call to infinite microfilm I am the refreshed bleeding moon snow and grave peril away from the bus station Greyhound, doghound, bitch and sway -- I am the time-ripe computer I tick, I knock at false doors fishing in red fright water best known by the village of Hopsundmalt as a devil - may - care lad who spent most of his time brewing trouble. However, after meeting and marrying Brunhilde, he settled down and started brewing beer. I am the dusty clouds, the clown, a parchment of the insrument you write :- I am the refreshed tune The beetle, the fucking dog, one fucking cow or bloody lizard of Ravens The blood city of the bllodsuckers the home port of Eric's tydied ships the gastly fucking capital of millions of bugs of fucking bugs glasses of orange wines, a crystal tombstone a streetlight for flames eternal a castle, a fucking queen of C.C. Reader Horst and Brunhilde had three children, one of whom was their only son, Sterno. It was Sterno who inherited his father's interest in beer an interest which eventually con cerned itself with production of NVILIWM lakittt‘ otos wit castles the blood the fucking menstrual sauce the disease, shit of a nation encircled with moss, the daisy in the fields of Danes and mermaids is my obvious home, I am a Beetle in heat, a worldly wordy salamander in Hyacinth Houses a dune blowing in Autumn, a gold sceptre and purple mouse cape disguised by a sneeze -- I am the world computer, a manuscript fable needing to be told through the beer rather than just drinking of it. Sterno came to the U.S. in 1926 and, in 1928, married the lonely Sally Schooner, wealthy daughter of a shipping mag nate. Aided somewhat by is an exam eyes of an Aesop. I am living I can remain in the orange groves under countless nova oranges a freudian dreeam of hidden paridoasia of parachutes and shoveled roses una purgatorian Dante with blindfolded virgins alone to hear of woos and baas Sir internal pistons, internal combustion classical chariotsd and subur ban dog boxes whores for a ration of their chocolate eclair dress stress like chamois brass Sally's encouragement, but mostly by her money, Sterno started a small brewery in Milwaukee, Wis. Though det ermined to do well, Sterno failed. It was only because of his wife's inherited wealth that the Steinfullers were able to survive as a family. One member of that family, their son, Fillmy, was fascinat ed by the beer business and became not a producer by an avid student of brewing. He determined early in his studies that the reason his father's brewing venture failed was because the beer was rotten. Fillmy's extensive research showed that another Milwau kee beer -- Schlitz -- was the most delicious he had ever tasted. He felt he could be of greatest service to the beer drinkers of the world by spreading the gospel of this quality brew. He determined this would be his life work. Unfortunately, Filmy Steinfuller was called to his great reward at an early age. The only child of his marriage to Pora Pilsener was a girl. On his deathbed, Filmy called his daughter to his side, and tried to convey to her how important it was that people learn about Schlitz. That daughter had already determined that she wanted to be the first female authority on the subject of beer. She had been conducting her own research, and had concluded independently that Schlitz was the finest beer available. Siglinda assured her father that she understood the significance of his work and that she would carry on. Upon Fillmy's death, Siglinda Steinfuller threw herself into her work. She studied and drunk day and night, and become more convinced than ever that she would carry on her father's crusade. She attended brewing schools, took part in taste tests, visited pubs, taverns, saloons, fraternity houses and sought the advise of friends and experts. All this merely served to reinforce what she and her father before her had learned -- that there was no finer beer made than Schlitz. Her expertise and capacity for beer are now universally recognized and that is why Siglinda Steinfuller today bears the heady title of the Schlitz Dean of Beer. bra, grab -- I am the carpenter, the horseman of the Valkyries. I am the timespan, the bomb set for next days and groans from oriental teas andorange spices, snuff and incense of the golden age in Odyssey and Ecstacy. I am the automated Homer, the dreamed Ulysses was an internal eternal tombstone a crystal Chevy chariot shining from Mars to be continued eventually misspellings, rumors, tumors,
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