By Christopher McCollum

It’s not the dreary outlook of a troubled writer, the ridiculous quote of restaurants and bars around America, or the daily routine of persons with questionable character. Beer in the breakfast hours has become a stark reality in the modern American world, and one that isn’t quite as easy to dismiss as alcoholic behavior as some of the older generation would like. In some sports circles, the Art of Tailgating has an almost religious fervor associated with it, and the proper rituals quite usually consist of grilling a variety of delicious staples, merriment, revelry, predicting how the game is going to unfold, and… beer. Lots, and lots of beer. I had always seen this on television, heard about it from associates, but never seen it first hand, until I began spending time in Clemson, South Carolina. Clemson is an agricultural university, and one of the best in the country, however most sports fans and even most Clemson students I’ve spoken with, proudly declare that Clemson is a football school first and foremost. Whether or not they were being facetious is of no concern to me, as the purpose of this writing is to demonstrate the love of beer in the morning.

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