Checked into a hotel where I’d paid for the “craft beer package”—two bombers of local craft beer per night waiting in the room (rate details even specify “craft beers brewed right here in X county”), a nice way to experience local products—and found this:

Note: hotel is in California, not Holland. Plus, Heineken tastes like the devil’s taint sweat if the devil’s balls were made of aluminum. For $6, I’m inordinately annoyed.