He's got the last six shirts you've bought him still hanging in the closet. With the tags on.
He doesn't golf. He doesn't fish. He's got one necktie. He wears it to funerals.
So what are you going to give a guy like this for Father's Day?
With Mom it's easy: flowers and a ridiculously overpriced brunch will do the trick.
Then again, when else do you get the chance to shovel eggs Benedict and prime rib onto the same plate?
Back to the problem at hand. OK, here's the plan: Does your dad go to ball games? Does he drink beer?
Then it's a snap. Buy him a Beerbelly.
Oh, not the kind acquired after imbibing copious amounts of water, barley, malt, hops and yeast.
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This one you strap onto your pre-existing belly, using a neoprene sling attached to a pouch into which you pour up to 80 ounces of your favorite beverage.
Delivery of said liquid from pouch into one's mouth is accomplished via a tube that can be snaked through one's garment and out of an appropriate opening, say an armhole.
Not that other orifices won't do just as well, as evidenced by this bit of consumer reporting in Sports Illustrated: "I just unzipped my fly, stuck a cup between my legs and poured myself a cold one."
(No word on the reactions of those close enough to witness such an undertaking.)
See what $8 beers at the ballpark will drive a man to do? I say "man" but women can do the same — long as they want to look seven months pregnant.
Can you imagine if the pouch were to break? ("Quick, Harold, get a stretcher! That woman up on Row 36, Seat 23 just went into labor. And she's foaming.")
Naturally, the whole thing began as a joke — hatched from the fevered brains of Brooks Lambert and cohorts at his company, Under Development Inc.
Sold for $34.95 at thebeerbelly.com/, this answer to a beer guzzler's prayers also comes in a deluxe version for $49.95. For that price, they'll throw in an ice pack "extender," as well as a "specially formulated one-step Beerbelly cleanser."
If there's yet another pouch to "recycle" all that beer, Lambert's company has yet to market it, but I can see it coming:
"Hey, beer drinkers: Tired of all those long bathroom lines at the ballpark? Well, get a load of this."
When it comes to novel beer delivery systems, however, nothing compares to a little stunt the old Sunshine Climate Club pulled off many moons ago right here in the Old Pueblo.
Back in the mid-'50s, the club — which promoted tourism — hosted a group of travel writers out at Saguaro National Monument.
Unbeknownst to the writers, a chuck wagon with a beer keg inside had been set up next to a saguaro cactus. A tube was then snaked from the beer keg through the saguaro, complete with hidden spigot.
After a long-winded talk by the park superintendent on the flora and fauna of the desert, certain maneuverings were completed and beer started to magically flow from the spigot.
The travel writers were astonished — though not, I suspect, as much as the folks at the park should you ask to pull such a stunt today.
Say what you will about the Beerbelly. At least the saguaros are safe.
