Disclaimer: The pic above is not an ad. Also, I wish no ill-will to the winery. And in all fairness, the wine wasn’t all that bad (as I eventually did try it–but never drank a glass of it). But I do wish to be critical–on behalf of all humanity that has not allowed itself to be distorted by wilful ignorance.
The pic above, dear worst-reader, is from a recent visit to The Homeland. And that’s where everything starts, doesn’t it? I mean. Come on. A once great nation can now be referred to as The Homeland. If Orwell were to turn in his grave, he also most certainly would be cynically laughing his a$$ off right now. What Aldus Huxley would be doing is whole ‘nother question–so let’s not go there (yet). Instead. Consider The Homeland and what lead to The Homeland for the rest of this worst-post. And now… let’s continue with a blossoming feminine flower that is in a perpetual state of menstruation but eventually finds it way to all-things cognitive.
The wine in the bottle in the pic above is called “Reconciliation”. As bad as the name The Homeland is, Reconciliation can be no worse. Or? When I first saw this bottle and recognised what someone was offering me to drink and what some wine maker decided to call it, I fcuking freaked out. After a few minutes, though, when my steamy, rocket-ship feet once again found solidity with this earth, images and audio of George Carlin and Bill Hicks began to scatter through the innards of my skull. It’s at that moment I turned to the person attempting to serve me.
“I’m not drinking anything from that bottle. Thank you all the same,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Have you lost all since of reality,” I asked my gracious but somewhat politically naive host.
“What do you mean, it’s good wine. I buy it by the case. It was a great catch last summer.”
“My friend…,” I tried to continue but was having trouble pushing my chin upwards in attempt to close-off my dropped jaw.
Here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. There has never been and, perhaps, there should never be Reconciliation. Reason? When a war is won, there is a loser and there is a winner. The dip$hit southern states of the United Mistakes of #americant lost the Civil War. And the cock-sucking traitors didn’t JUST lose. They lost big time. And not only did they lose, but they should have also lost the right to even be part of the United Mistakes. Every fcuking person in the fcuking south should have been put on a ship and sent to Africa where they and their great grand children should spend eternity trying to find forgiveness where forgiveness isn’t deserved. With that in mind, Abraham Lincoln deserves a big… Fcuk You Abe! For letting so many of THEM off the hook.
Considering the (political) state of the US today, I suppose it’s no wonder that a bottle of wine named after a lie can be sold to certain clientele. Obviously, according to worst-writer, this clientele is part of the TV nation, better known as The DumbDown aka The Homeland. Even I–a harbinger of wanton intolerance that began with Ronald Reagan–know that rational thinking can only go so far–and so: a bottle of wine named after a systematically perpetuated lie is at the end of my (tolerance) rope. Obviously, there is a place/need for The DumbDown in a society. But the problem now is that The DumbDown have practically taken over as they serve a higher monetary power. But I digress.
Indeed. Let the Phoenix rise. Let the motherfcuker burn (down).
Rant on.
-T
worstwriter 