Witty, intelligent, talented… but no good in a street fight.

You may already know this, but wine writing is a man’s life—right up there with firefighting, bank heisting and gay pornography acting.  No offense to my twin-X chromosomal breast-blooming, goatee-challenged life partners, but I really doubt that Alice Feiring and Jancis Robinson have the stones to stand alone against the wrath of multi-billion dollar wine and spirits conglomerates for no other reason than to make mean-spirited jokes at the expense of somebody who lives half a continent away.

However, after yesterday’s column in which I took perverse delight in hanging the dirty laundry of Brown-Forman satellite Korbel Champagne Cellars on my clothes line, I received an anonymous tip about certain individuals at that fractured froth factory—that spumescent sweatshop—who ‘know how to hold and execute a grudge’.

Uh Oh…

Now, as someone who is still intending to get even with that six-year-old punk who ‘claimed’ ownership of the silver dollar I found in good faith in the school hallway when I was also six, I totally understand the sentiment, Korbel.  And you are absolutely correct: If I have to start worrying about the literally hundreds of dollars I will make as a wine critic over my lifetime, I suppose I should rein in my smarmy, snarky, bitchy worldview a tad, shouldn’t I?

Then again, what would Kurt Russell in Backdraft have done?

Or for that matter, how would Bugsy Siegel or Johnny ‘Wadd’ Holmes have handled the situation?  Would they have rolled over like Beethoven (the St. Bernard, not the musician, dummkopf) and begged for their bellies to be scratched?  Or, would they have fought back like David did with Goliath?  Would they have strapped on their Samurai helmets, gladiator breastplates, Kevlar athletic cups and planted IEDs up and down the pathway to their private sensory-deprivation writing chamber and waited, pacing, until Korbel sent Luca Brasi over for tea and crumpets?

Tough call.  It’s days like this that I wish I’d been born an ectothermic hermaphrodite.

Brown-Forman Is Poised To Reconstruct Society As A Utopian Paradise Based Upon Man’s Inductive Logic 

Actually, it would serve everybody’s purpose better if rather than blathering on about non-existent Brown-Forman objectivist philosophies, I instead praised to the high heavens the other wineries in their portfolio and hoped that Korbel would be muzzled by whoever at B-F is playing John Galt today, which is precisely what I intended to do until I discovered that beside Korbel, Brown-Forman has sold off every single goddamn winery it used to own except Sonoma-Cutrer.

It’s us against them, boys.

Indeed, these two vin vendors are now themselves Davids against a massive, mean and malevolent Goliath of hard liquor.

So, Korbel and S-C, I can indeed commiserate; I’m willing to bet (without any statistics to back me up) that there have been more crimes of passion, contract murders, Columbines, nasty wine columns and rude rejoinders on Facebook made under the influence of Jack Daniels  than ‘Les Pierres’ Estate Bottled Chardonnay.

So, I Am Poleaxed 

At least, I was poleaxed until I put my thinking cap on long enough to realize that to smooth the ruffled feathers of gigantic, multiple-product players in the spirits game, you merely have to invent new drinks using their labels exclusively, publish them, and call them ‘The Three Trendiest Drink Recipes to Usher in Summer, 2012.’

Trust me, these corporate types eat that kind of shit alive.  Okay; I mean, you may call it kow-towing, you may call it groveling, you may call it sucking up, but I certainly don’t.

I call it ‘taking a throbbing wet one up the wazoo’.

In any case, my worries are over, and with any luck, tonight Luca Brasi will be sleeping with the fishes.

The Three Trendiest Drink Recipes to Usher in Summer, 2012

I hereby unveil a trio of soon-to-be-trendy drinks using only Brown-Forman brands, and should you give them a whirl, make sure you use only Brown-Forman brands, because if you try to substitute anything else, the whole concoction will blow up in your face like Richard Pryor’s crack pipe.

The Mea Culpa

Ingredients:

The Mea Maxima Culpa Royale

½ oz. Canadian Mist Blended Canadian Whiskey

½ oz. each, Don Eduardo Tequila, Pepe Lopez Tequila, El Jimador Tequila and Herradura Gold Tequila

½ oz. Early Times Kentucky Whisky

½ oz. Finlandia Vodka

½ oz. Finlandia Frost

½ oz. each, Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey and Gentlemen Jack Rare Tennessee Whiskey

½ oz. Tuaca Liqueur

½ oz. each, Southern Comfort, Southern Comfort Lime, Southern Comfort Fiery Pepper

This is all you need to create the perfect summer cocktail

The Mea Maxima Culpa

(Same as above, only add ¼ oz. of Chambord)

The Mea Maxima Culpa Royale

(Same as above, only pour in a Jeroboam of Cook’s California Champagne)

Directions:

In a cocktail vat filled with shaved ice, pour all ingredients, shake well using one of those devices that Home Depot uses to mix paint, then pour into a well-chilled martini bucket.

*So that’s it…  What do you think, B-F?  Are we BFFs again?