I bought a bottle of South African red some time ago. It sat on the wine shelf a lot longer than I have ever put beer on a shelf. It got dusty and then I opened it with the Las Vegas cork screw my mom presented me with many years ago after she returned from Mob City, U.S.A. The wine had won all sorts of awards. I like award winning wines. The appreciative motherfuckers who hand out the awards for wine are not bought off as cheaply as an Olympic figure skating judge. It was the Anne Murray of South African reds, or so the judges said.
It was not very good. It had not gone bad or anything but it had all the goodness and character Todd Bertuzzi possessses when he is signing over his pay cheque to his lawyers.
I am on the last glass. The welfare beer in the garage is going to taste like champagne after this glass is gone.
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