Miller Lite is terrible.

 "Oh, look at this!  He's having a go at the light beers again!"
Yeah, yeah, I know.  As soon as they stop deserving it, I'll stop harping on them.

Have you ever tried Miller Lite? (That's lite, not light, mind you.  G's and H's are heavy.)
If you're scowling right now, the answer is probably yes.


"More taste or less taste?" they ask in their stomach-churning commercials, which employ the ever-so-subtle tactic of implying that if you drink a light beer other than theirs you must be a social pariah. 

Well, the simple answer to that is "Depends on what the taste is."  Let's say you're forced to eat a pile of cow dung.  More taste or less taste?  For the love of Horgh, less!

Miller Lite has "more taste" in the same way a rapist is "more affectionate."

I don't know how a beer that's so watered-down still manages to be so catastrophically awful.  It must have something to do with Satan.

The face of ultimate evil

 
Last time I drank a Miller Lite, my stomach went on strike for two months until I promised it a lobster and some Guiness.

And then there are the "vortex bottle" ads. 

If your beer's greatest appeal is that the bottle is designed to get the beer the hell out of there so you don't have to spend as much time tasting it, you've got a problem.  Might as well claim that it tastes better on the way back up from your stomach than the other beers (note: it doesn't).

In their defense, though, the watered-down taste isn't their fault.  The only reason Miller Lite is so watery is because every time a new batch is brewed IT MAKES GOD CRY.