The Devil, perched upon the shoulder of one of our brewers, whispered, with intensity, "Brew me a beer with 6 premium malts and 6 varieties of hops, at 66 IBUs, and 6.6% abv." The fire beneath the kettle bellowed. Dark clouds formed with each addition of west coast hops and specialty malts. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped. The brewer devised a plan. As the beer came to be, clouds parted, and pillars of sunshine beamed upon the brewhouse. The Devil may have coerced us into brewing this dark, bold and bitter Pale Ale, but the young brewer had made certain the beer did not contain all the 6's the Devil sought, rendering any evil forces in this beer futile. After all, the Devil doesn't brew beer. We do.