With wedding season upon us again I find it hard not to get giddy about this year’s selection of fine mass-produced wines. Sometimes I just close my eyes halfway through a sentence and imagine myself clutching the fine plastic bladder of Franzia while on the set of “My Big Fat Hairy Portuguese Wedding”. But selecting the right box of wine is hardly an easy choice. On one hand, you have the tradition of Franzia fine boxed wine. Their fresh, delicious nectar is forged with heartfelt commitment to tradition. This keystone of human vintage development is laden with the “true to the varietal” flavor without the overpowering flavor of oak. Besides, the handy sack-o-wine is perfect for clutching as if it was baby Jesus himself during the reception at a wedding. As if this was not already orgasmic enough, Carlo Rossi offers my personal favorite, a 5 L jug of Vin Rose. To me, it means light, crisp and fruity… That’s what she said! It is perfect for summer nights on the patio enjoying the ululating of a dozen pygmy mariachis or Greek yogurt. Even Fried squid, if you’re into that sort of thing. Unfortunately, I cannot commit to passing judgment for one mass-produced wine over the other. Price-Rite, why can’t you start your own vineyard?

UPDATE!!! Sign the PETITION 

For those that are fortunate enough to pursue and enjoy work that also pays the bills, my hat goes off to you. Like the proverbial carrot dangling at the end of a stick, few of us “achieve” that American Dream of “financial freedom” and many are left to be the asses. Who drives the said donkey? I’m not here to point fingers but I’ll tell you right now that I’ll be damned if I get caught in that rat race. I’ve been planning my escape ever since that fateful first day, when the rancid trough water graced my hands as a Kimball Captain. I’ve been working the same job for four years and to the older folks that’s not much, but when I consider the education I’ve been blessed with, I just know there’s more for me then cleaning up messes and washing dishes for the elite. My plan of escape came to me abruptly as I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams and found myself transformed in bed into a monstrous vermin.
Like the phonies that walk this campus I awoke wearing the standard issue North Face fleece jacket, the prolific spread of Uggs had reached my feet and my speech became incomprehensible, littered with “likes” and “what-evers”. I realized that I had become the poster child of stuffwhitepeoplelike.com and it wasn’t until my meeting with Ring Master Piotr Jankowski the following day that my plan of escape was set in motion. When I arrived at the circus five pygmy gypsies greated me with the sale of silver cotton candy, and for $3.25 I knew that was fools gold. Price Rite was having a cotton candy sale and they didn’t give me a life time achievement award to just buy any old cotton candy. To ensure that the ideals of bargain hunting be held, I drove 20 miles to the next price right and smuggled that sweet, sweet delicious budget candy in a make-shift trash bag jacket that I had constructed from a receptacle found at the entrance of the circus. My Polish and Portuguese ancestors would have rolled in their graves if they knew I got ripped off.
The pygmy’s cowered in fear until they realized the absurdity of my jacket and when Piotr saw that the God had created a man more frugal than he, I was offered a dance position with the famous twin weasels. Apparently I however need at least a B.A. so they said they would hold this position for me until graduation but come May you’re looking at the new dance master.