If you opened a sealed can of water from the 1950s and drank it, what would happen? Would you die? Only one way to find out.
Beer-swilling Americans, globally regarded as the very Platonic ideal of refinement and taste, are renowned for their refined palates. They certainly are not the type of people to sit around on the back bumper of a pickup truck and drink themselves senseless on literally any form of alcoholic liquid no matter how disgusting while ranting about unfavored sports teams. So it is newsworthy to report that this group of gourmets is now being enticed to drink their beer out of a humble can.
You hear all these so-called "health experts" and "emergency room doctors gazing at our insulin levels in amazement" today who tell us, "Hey, don't drink so much soda," or "Hey, how can you put Mountain Dew in your baby's bottle, you monster?" They're always telling us to drink more water. But water is gross. What to do?
If you're a hip and trendsetting young urban affluencer like me, you can hardly count how many times you've purchased a new brand of bottled water, only to be disappointed with its lack of that... certain something. "I dunno, this just takes like water," you grumble, tossing the disposable plastic bottle onto the mountainous pile of similar empty plastic bottles that have built up in your tastefully decorated apartment, a testament to your restless search for a bottled water brand that speaks to your lifestyle. I am here to tell you that there is finally hope: a bottled water that comes from Brooklyn.