St. Francis Merlot 2007

Some wines need to breathe.  

This one needs a little more breath than my humble monastic room has to offer, perhaps there is no saving it...  I don't even know if they make iron lungs any more.  I bet they're really expensive.  Sarah Silverman would probably know.  I loathe her.  She is a bona-shrinker.

This pseudo-catechism tasted just like foul grape juice with cheap vodka mixed poorly in it, on first sip.  

I'm beginning to think that I don't like Merlot, please send suggestions and prove to me that I'm wrong.  Also, anybody interested can buy me wine to review.  Please email me privately for details.  

My wife bought this wine.  She is very sweet, but she must know that I am naturally repelled, for both ontological and epistemological reasons, by St. Francis...   When you look at his name on the screen it really does read, "Street Francis"

(Cue: image below, at bottom of post)

He's like an anemic oompa-loompa in ecstasy, though he was very kind to the earth, a true christian rarity.  He's even short for a nearly pre-historic oompa-loompa, dressed in burlapse.   

I would worry about hurting Rachel's feelings but she stopped reading this blog once I posted a picture of a girl's crescent-pantied butt, twice, and then wrote about my fantasies of pissing in the sink.  She said that I've written my way right into the toilet on my new wine blog.  

She was right, of course.  Let's see if I can write my way out again.  

Oh well, my other blog has lost many readers also.  I think some people were upset that I used some derogatory phrases.  I'd list them here, but I'll perhaps save that joy for the other site. They were bad, I guess, and when I looked online all I could find were celebrity comedians apologizing for using the very same phrases.  The true mark of a cultural bulls-eye.  Get the comedians to apologize and dance backwards.

Jesus Christo, this wine is bad.  I'm afraid to even look for it online.  Gimme a sec... 

Ok, I did...

I like it a little bit more now that I've come to realize it's not a shamefully cheap bottle of wine.  I'd been out in the California sun jus' a tannin, a little too long perhaps, but there's a depth to the flavor that is just starting to appeal to me, to open to my mind.  

I'm nearly halfway done with the bottle and have wasted almost $10 whole dollars in Romanesque frivolity, but it is subtly creating a crevice in the pleasure of my palate.

Well, it could be the hurried breathing it's been doing, knowing that its finale time has come, and nobody liked him in this town anyway, he was a red, spreading dead ideas.  

The flavor is really mellowing a bit and it's getting much, much easier to agree with.  Perhaps my rating system won't work so well on wines that need to breathe.... either that or I'll have to start handicapping them with a decanter.  Oh Lord, being a critic is like having a hard-on for the darkness. 

"Thank you for your wine, California...
Thank you for your sweet and bitter fruits
Yes, I've got the desert in my toenail
And I hid the speed inside my shoe..."

-Jagger/Richards "Sweet Virginia"

(St. Francis, A-sissy)