Stay tuned for a very special giveaway next Saturday! (Hint: The distillery is named after a farm animal blighted by a particular ailment.)
It’s one thing to drink at home, where everything is measured, and felt, and predictable. It’s another to take that tipsy into the world with so much awaiting your attention. The colored lights on signs. The sunset. Words on boxes of cereal.
I bought a bottle of Trump Meritage red wine while in this state in a Whole Foods in Roanoke, Virginia. I wasn’t completely intoxicated, and I still act somewhat logical in an intoxicated state, so I thought to myself: Is Trump wine really going to be as much of a failure as I think it’ll be?
My husband, though, was not on board. “You’re economically supporting that Cheeto scumbag!” he said, approximately. I was floored. My diehard scientific husband was morally offended.
So who’s the real scientist now?!
Needless to say, I didn’t want to publically voice my economic decision at the time, and I wasn’t even sure if I was going to write about it. But what’s science if not recorded? It needs to be on the record. And the record says: It ain’t no thang.
Seriously. There was something a little weird to it, a little dirty. I can’t even make this up. It was a mid-level red at best, and for those who don’t know a whole lot about the wine industry, “meritage” is supposed to mean “the best,” and Trump, in all his glorious Trumpness, crapped all over it.
Maybe that’s what I was tasting.
To be sure, there’s a lot more you can do with $22. Buy a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from The Seventy Five Wine Company. Or Slo Down’s Sexual Chocolate. Pick an overpriced whatever at the grocery store.
Or go to a tiny bottle shop and ask the shopkeep what they recommend. I promise you, you’ll find something much better than what a six-time bankruptee pissed into a bottle before slapping his name on it. Too bad we don’t have the subpar steak anymore to go with that “meritage” fine wine of his.