Steve,

Here is Bud's backstory. I still have Bud and plan to slip him back
into the same friend's cooler from whence he came 2 years ago.

Paddles With My Bud

Unpacking gear from Raystown last October I discovered that my
seldom-seen paddling pal Doug Doremus had gifted me with a Budweiser
hidden away in one of my boots.

What a guy. What a gift. What, a beer?

Yes, what a beer; a beer made with rice, the beer that launched a
thousand terrible headaches, a beer that makes you want to kiss the
cat's ass to get the taste out of your mouth after just one sip.

What was I to do with such a treasure? Perhaps keep it with me always.
Or at least for the next year.

And so, like the traveling garden gnomes of a bygone era, Bud began his
yearlong odyssey. Between October 2004 and October 2005 Bud traveled
far and wide on paddling trips. From Florida to Pennsylvania, Bud has
made his way through a 12-month journey on thirty-two paddling trips in
five States with 121 companions.

Bud had many adventures, from being stuffed up a dead pony's ass to
nestling between a tattooed floozy's tits ("Truth" and
"Honesty"), bobbing amidst floating horse****, cozying up with a
dead raccoon, riding Greek tortoises, participating in several boat
reviews, a magazine photo shoot, racing in the Wye Island Regatta and
attended a Hollingsworth family reunion. Bud concluded his grand
adventure nuzzled between the welcoming thighs of a sweet young
paddling babe. (Note: there are photographs of Bud in all of these
situations and positions)

In short, Bud had a far better paddling year than Doug.

It has been a fun and adventurous year for Bud, but he is ready to go
home at last, to take his rightful place amongst the other ****ty
domestic beers in Doug's refrigerator.

Godspeed Bud, and don't forget - you are freshness dated.