Whining About Wine

Today's topic of discussion is: Wine.

This is by far the most overrated beverage in the universe, and it pisses me off to think that some people drink this stuff pretending that it represents my blood.

First of all, that’s pretty morbid, don’t you think? If you’re a cannibal, then hey, let your freak flag fly, but otherwise forget about it. (And why Dad made cannibals is another topic for another day.)

Now when I was growing up, the wine we all drank was called Manischewitz. Trust me, I’d rather eat a gallon of borsht on a hot afternoon than this drek.

And speaking of hot, remember when I was in the desert and I made the water into wine? Everyone was sooo impressed. Now I don’t know about you, but when it’s 120 degrees outside, I’m not exactly jonesing for a nice Chardonnay. Hey disciples, how about some—oh I don’t know—water? Or at least an icy Dr. Pepper.

Another reason I’m not a big wine fan: Remember this little thing called “The Last Supper”? Well, every time I see or hear about wine, it reminds me of that cheery event.

Finally, wine is made by people stomping their feet on grapes. Sounds delicious, doesn’t it? Who knows where those feet have been? I still remember lepers like it was yesterday, and as far as I know, Ernest & Julio Gallo don’t have a no-leper policy.

So, in my opinion, when it comes to wine, just say “Feh!”

Shalom.