Hey, Bud Light, Stop Pandering To Us With ‘Chicken Fried’

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I was OK with Bud Light and Anheuser-Busch ruining Busch Light for me. I could take that. As I wrote, there are other fish in the sea and beers in the cart.

But now, they’ve gone too far. During Thursday night’s opening round of the NFL Draft, the folks over at Dylan Mulvaney Ave. whipped out a brand new commercial as they attempt to win sane people’s hearts back, and it was 30 seconds of pure pandering.

And that’s fine. You want to throw a couple hot girls in cowboy hats and boots and have them run in the rain? Knock yourselves out. I’m all for it. I’m just glad they used actual girls.

But then they took it too far. As is always the case with the wokes, they always take it just a little bit too far.

Right on cue, this new Bud Light commercial started playing Zac Brown’s Chicken Fried in the background, and I nearly spit out my Yuengling.

Bud Light called out over new commercial

Nope. You don’t get that song, Bud Light. You don’t deserve it. Not right now, at least.

I grew up on Chicken Fried. I can remember when it first went viral back in the fall of 2008, because it was all you heard on the radio.

I know that because we drove 12 hours to Virginia for Thanksgiving that year, and I knew every single word by the time we got there.

Today — some 15 years later — that song still reminds me of the fall. Certain songs, they say, transport you to a different time whenever you hear them, and Chicken Fried brings me back to Thanksgiving in Virginia every single time I hear it.

And, by the way, I’m not talking about downtown Charlottesville, either. I’m talking mountains and country. No cell phone service. No locking the doors at night. Front porch sittin’, as Alan Jackson would say.

So no, Bud Light. You don’t get to just play one of the most American songs of my time, have a couple cowgirls run around in the rain and assume you’ve fixed everything.

Don’t patronize us. We’re not dumb. We may be a little buzzed, but we’re not dumb.

Most importantly, don’t make me spit out my Yuengling ever again. I don’t want to waste one sip of my new cold beer on a Friday night.

Written by Zach Dean

Zach grew up in Florida, lives in Florida, and will never leave Florida ... for obvious reasons. He's a reigning fantasy football league champion, knows everything there is to know about NASCAR, and once passed out (briefly!) during a lap around Daytona. He swears they were going 200 mph even though they clearly were not.


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