Billy Beer was the product of the Falls City Brewing Company (a small outfit known for making beers that taste like regret), which wisely decided that what Americans really needed in their fridge was a can of cheap lager endorsed by a man best known for urinating on airport runways and referring to Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi as “a good ol’ boy.”
Let’s be clear: Billy Carter was not just the brother of President Jimmy Carter. He was the fun Carter. While Jimmy was dealing with inflation and energy crises, Billy was dealing with Schlitz-induced hiccups and seeing how long he could go without a shirt.
The beer itself tasted like someone had carbonated pond water and filtered it through a tube sock, but nobody was drinking Billy Beer for flavor. They were drinking it because AMERICA. Because if the First Brother could have a beer, so could you, dammit.
Billy’s signature appeared on every can, accompanied by the endorsement: “I had this beer brewed up just for me. I think it’s the best I ever tasted. And I’ve tasted a lot.” Which is both an endorsement and a cry for help.
Collectors hoarded Billy Beer thinking it would one day be worth thousands. Spoiler alert: It’s not. In fact, you can still buy a six-pack on eBay for less than the cost of gas station sushi. But its value isn’t in the taste—or the economics. Billy Beer was a cultural artifact. It was a glorious monument to the 1970s ethos of “screw it, let’s try this and see what happens.”
Much like mood rings, pet rocks, and Evel Knievel trying to jump the Snake River Canyon in a rocket, Billy Beer was less about success and more about the vibe.
Raise a can (preferably unopened) to Billy Carter—may your beer be cold, your scandals harmless, and your legacy taste slightly better than your beverage.
