No, what I have is a romantic abnormality, one so unbelievable that it must be hidden from the public at all cost.

I got Miss Catfish — a lithe, slippery creature with a sneering grin and a pair of enormous shades a la Nicole Richie. I love the label, though I’ll admit I was hoping for something a bit more Daryl Hannah.

Typical of my experience with Schell’s brews, I found this a functional beverage, neither offensive nor remarkable. But then I’m not much of a lager drinker, excluding session (read binge) drinking, and in such cases, I reach for the cheap stuff. Nevertheless, I’m a sucker for marketing gimmicks (I even drank OK Soda once), and tip my hat to Augie Schell for rousing my latent ichthyophilia.