This low-budget six-part series from the people who brought the world fine features such as Colt 45, Lone Star and Schlitz may not live up to its Blue Ribbon billing, but it definitely deserves an honorable mention.

While all six installments measure the same 12 ounces, the pace of the first two is rather slow, leaving somewhat of a bad taste in the mouth and a unsettled feeling in the bowels. The bland, washed-out appearance of the featured performers does little to boost the status of this period piece that was theoretically selected America's best in 1893.

Some advertisements portray Pabst Blue Ribbon as a non-stop rollercoaster ride, while in reality it sputters until the third or fourth offering. At this point a sense of well-being overtakes the disturbing feelings aroused by the early installments, and the desire to devour the remains of the series is all but overwhelming.

However, it is sensible to avoid this seemingly undeniable urge and indulge in the final selections at a prudent pace. Otherwise, one could find the final outcome exceedingly unpleasant.

Although this critic warmed to the series after a few offerings, I was disgusted by the shameless promotion put forth by the Pabst Brewing Co. These gentlemen plastered their product's appellation on everything from belt buckles to golf balls. They even went so far as to advertise on a beer stein. How passé.

The makers' funds could have been better expended investing in a few established names to accompany the other players involved. Tostitos Restaurant Style Tortilla Chips and perhaps Salsa Con Queso come to mind.

In the end, Pabst Blue Ribbon packs enough punch to quench the audiences thirst for thrills, but the next morning it leaves you like a Malaysian whore - $5 poorer and filled with a subtle sensation of sorrow.