Dearly Beloved Readers
I  recently received a query as to whether I could render a review of Benjamin Wallace's cork-popping caper "The Billionaire's Vinegar: The Mystery of the World's Most Expensive Bottle of Wine."

Quick aside: If it's still a mystery after about 4 chapters, throw away the book and never pick up another.

I told the requester that the requestee was looking at a pretty cold-hearted deadline, and the guy said, "Look, I'm the Decider. If I say I need this before Thursday, I need it before Thursday."

I asked him what he'd throw in besides the requisite c-notes and he said I would be pleasantly surprised. Well, I got the check in today's mail, and included in the package were some rolling papers ('78 ZigZag, an unparalleled year), a bottle of this week's Wine Special at Cooper's Corner (he pronounces it Cohnah, as in "the hot cohnah," go figure), and a tupperware container I must have left at his house. I would have been in it to win it with just the papes, but hey, bonus beats bogus.

RED FLAG #1 (in case the picture doesn't say that to you right away): On the back cover of the book, there is mumbled praise for the book, none of it from a major, or even minor publication, which is either a sign of a self-publisher, or an inability to find a newspaper or magazine that is willing to give a thumb north of horizontal.
SIDEBAR TO ALL: The fact that there is a RED FLAG #1 does not guarantee a RED FLAG #2, or any other number, for that matter.)

For this reader, the book has that hum of what I like to call "The NASCAR Experience (TM)." Meaning, I know it's on the telly, and I can see moving colors and hear noxious noise, but it registers like a shy mist, a hint of corporeality that I just can't fathom.

By the way, does anyone else think "BeepImaJeep Meets Hardy Rodenstock" would be an Instant Crassic?

Anyhow, this bad boy gets the coveted 4 NASCARS, only the second time this Award has been granted in NMBG's history. First to guess the other winner of this award gets a copy of Atticus. Whoops. I'm a guy who can murder a glass of wine with or without a straw, but this book reads a bit like a Baseball Card book. "Felten was auctioning a mint '76 Jim Fregosi (image reversed, missing cyan), packaged with a '51 Mantle rookie card in decent condition, slight dusting of the original bubble gum on lower half of front of card, as well as the ubiquitous '89 Fleer F*** Face Billy Ripken, one of my favorites, but a perpetual steamer in the marketplace."

On top of that, Buzz Bissinger notes that "you can almost taste the wine that turns so many seemingly rational people into madmen." The bold and the italics are this writer's. Mr. Bissinger is obviously one B.A.M.S.Y.M., but he clearly didn't read the book. I had my reader go through the book three times now and he has yet to find any even notionally rational people in it. For chrissake, a Koch brother comes across as relatively normal in this book.

From pg 3 of The Vintner's Bongwater, regarding the wine expert Michael Broadbent:

He was happy to opine at these tastings, on the wines under consideration. He had a knack for putting wine into memorable words. Sometimes he borrowed from literature, describing one wine as "black as Egypt's night." More often, he minted his own rakish descriptions, seeing a woman in every wine. A '79 Pétrus reminded him of Sophia Loren: "You can admire them, but you don't want to go to bed with them." A double magnum of '47 Cantenac-Brown evoked chocolate and "schoolgirls' uniforms."

The following images are purported to be of the aforementioned Sophia Loren.

Nope. You do NOT want to go to bed with any of these woman, whether or not any of them is actually Ms. Loren. But that's just me.

So we did a little professional research, showing the above images to a random gathering of beer drinkers at the Foundry on Monday night, and asking if the surveyed would want to go to bed with this woman.

Survey SEZ:
"Oh, god, no! But hey, have you tried the saison?"

"Nah. Too classy!"

"Buy me a few more of these and I'd give it the old college try."

"No way! But you do have to admire them!"

"Yikes. Not happenin'."

"No, thanks. I'm not a big big-nipple gal."

So, to further confirm that Mssr. Broadbent is indeed the voice of hard-earned expertise, I next googled "schoolgirls' uniforms," which gave me a new window offering a quick and easy installation of MacCleaner and a page of pixelated titillation that you can use your imagination to imagine.