Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, dear canned beer,
Honey, since you're up, dear,
Bring me another beer, would you?
Canned beer turns 75 years old today.
That reminds me of an old dog we had in my younger days that we had named Foster Brooks. On command Foster would go to the refrigerator, open it, grab a beer in his jaws and bring it to the requester.
Foster had a little difficulty adapting to the onset of aluminum cans, but punctured but a few after the first case or two of practice.
Shortly after Foster Brooks bit the bullet, (Literally, since we also taught him to raid the neighbor's refrigerator when we ran out.) an artist friend created an original piece of work to commemorate him and his 'really, really man's best friend image.'
In inebriated memory of faithful Foster Brooks:
Since we were a little sloppy, the artist used beer cans laying around the house and yard to create the tribute to Foster:
Oh, thank you, darling. This one's for you, Foster Brooks!