With no L.A. home teams to fret about, I had the whole football season to plot my Super Bowl party brew. Lacking a backyard distillery, I went to one of the local brew-on-premises pubs, where rookie brew masters (oxymoronic, eh?) can boil grain and pour in hops to produce their own beer. (Just over 100 bucks and about five hours of work yields 120 bottles.) But what to name it? I spurned the simply obscene route that others chose--the general manager at the Santa Fe Hops Brewery in Santa Fe Springs, Scott Diehl, showed me a "Pull My Finger Ale" boxed and ready for client pickup, and another's "Christmas Droppings," with little brown chips substituting for falling white snow on the label. Eew. What is it about beer that brings out the "South Park" in everyone?