Speaking of Roy Orbison, it always starts the same way. I am in the garden airing my terrapin Jetta when he walks past my gate, that mysterious man in black.

'Hello Roy,' I say. 'What are you doing in Dusseldorf?'

'Attending to certain matters,' he replies.

'Ah,' I say.

He apprises Jetta's lines with a keen eye. 'That is a well-groomed terrapin,' he says.

'Her name is Jetta.' I say. 'Perhaps you would like to come inside?'

'Very well.' He says.

Roy Orbison walks inside my house and sits down on my couch. We talk urbanely of various issues of the day. Presently I say, 'Perhaps you would like to see my cling-film?'

'By all means.' I cannot see his eyes through his trademark dark glasses and I have no idea if he is merely being polite or if he genuinely has an interest in cling-film.

I bring it from the kitchen, all the rolls of it. 'I have a surprising amount of clingfilm,' I say with a nervous laugh. Roy merely nods.

'I estimate I must have nearly a kilometre in the kitchen alone.'

'As much as that?' He says in surprise. 'So.'

'Mind you, people do not realize how much is on each roll. I bet that with a single roll alone I could wrap you up entirely.'

Roy Orbison sits impassively like a monochrome Buddha. My palms are sweaty.

'I will take that bet,' says Roy. 'If you succeed I will give you tickets to my new concert. If you fail I will take Jetta, as a lesson to you not to speak boastfully.'

I nod. 'So then. If you will please to stand.'

Roy stands. 'Commence.'

I start at the ankles and work up. I am like a spider binding him in my gossamer web. I do it tight with several layers. Soon Roy Orbison stands before me, completely wrapped in cling-film. The pleasure is unexampled.

'You are completely wrapped in cling-film,' I say.

'You win the bet,' says Roy, muffled. 'Now unwrap me.'

'Not for several hours.'

'Ah.'

I sit and admire my handiwork for a long time. So as not to make the ordeal unpleasant for him we make small talk on topical subjects, Roy somewhat muffled. At some point I must leave him to attend to Jetta's needs. When I return I find he has hopped out of my house, still wrapped in cling-film. The loss leaves me broken and pitiful. He never calls me. He sends no tickets. The police come and reprimand me. Jetta is taken away, although I get her back after a complicated legal process.

There is only one thing that can console me. A certain dream, a certain vision...

It always starts the same way.

This is one of the worst post I have EVER seen. Delete it.

I am a bot.

By the way, there's more Roy Orbison and clingfilm themed stories here, and even an adventure video (text) game!

Lets hit the fuckin road!

The only time I've ever given a shit about the nuances of f*male anatomy is when I was doing a hard guro/vore RP where I needed to remember how to spell the parts of her reproductive system that my character was eating.

Snapshots:

1. Beer choices in David Lynch's Blue ... - archive.org, archive.today

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The answer is your mom

pbr makes whiskey now lol

PBR is now making whiskey that's been aged for 5 seconds. Pabst Blue Ribbon is following up its 8% alcohol by volume hard seltzer with an even higher-alcohol whiskey (40% ABV). Pabst Blue Ribbon Whiskey, which boasts that it was aged only 5 seconds, makes its public debut Aug. ... The whiskey is Pabst's first spirit.Aug 22, 2019

Pabst Blue Ribbon is now making a whiskey in collaboration ...

its clear.

I have nothing to add except does anyone miss Meister Bräu? The only movie I've seen it in is Revenge of the Nerds. You can figure out which tier of beer it is from this clip. Even though Booger is obscuring the label, I'd recognize it anywhere.

PBR is AMERICAN and has BLUE in the name

I only drink whiskey, so this is a world I don't relate to. I'm looking for you lot to help me understand the emotional and intellectual and cultural significance behind each character's beer preference, and how 2000's frat-rapist culture and affection for PBR(I think? they like that right?) may have unintentionally shifted whatever meaning these beers might have originally been intended to convey all the way back in 198x or whatever.

I'd characterize PBR as more of a beer for hipsters now (or at least it was before craft beer became huge in those circles), but it's traditionally a blue collar/working class beer.

I think you've got something on your comparison between Bud and Pabst. They're both working class beers but Bud is Americana, patriotism, cookouts, and the kind of work you can be proud of as a Man. Pabst is more urban, and a little seedier. It's not one of the big two brands so it can't really be presented as just the standard alternative to Bud. It's a great signifier of working class in a way that isn't admirable.

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I'm not a hipster but I'm an alcoholic and I drink PBR. It's cheap and stronger than other shit. 5% instead of 4.3 or whatever. That really makes a difference if you're drinking a case in a day.

If there's one thing I can't fucking stand it's warm beer!

PBR used to be for punk rockers and poor people. It’s garbage though. I drink IPA because it tastes like coke and flowers snorted off a high-class hooker’s buttcrack.

Having lived through that time it's literally just a tier list of the public perception of these beers back then. Low-PBR, mid-bud, high-heinekin. Budweiser was not the poor man's (working class from your comments) beer because its always been more expensive than PBR. PBR always had a reputation as a shit beer which is why hipsters started drinking it so they could be unique.

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My favorite brand in movies is BEER Light