Red Wine

I have been lied to about red wine. All of the poets and authors who have put the words "red wine" and "sweet" anywhere near each other, all descriptions written on the labels of the bottles, all the friends and family and media that sung the praises of this concoction -- it was all an act, all a falsehood.

I have been lied to, and so have you.

Red wine is sour, thick, oppressive of all the senses, and weirdly buttery, which just kind of makes the throat feel weird. I have tried bottles of red wine priced at $400. I have tried bottles of red wine priced at $5. Aside from a red herring value x80 for the former, I can say that there is none but the slightest discernable difference between the two. Mostly that buttery thing.

So I wondered, why?

Why would the world collaborate to repeat this global practical joke, this mass conviction that red wine will satisfy you, will love and care for you, in both body and soul? It's an ancient conspiracy, reaching far back into the past. From the moment man first laid his hand upon the grape, a nefarious plot has been afoot.

Someone needed to get to the bottom of this.

And that someone was my husband-to-be, because I really needed to buy some bagels today. You know, the kind of bagel ominously labeled as "everything bagels", the kind that give you pause in front of the toaster as you wonder, what do they mean, everything? It's not a very helpful name. They're my favorite bagels, but, well, sometimes I look at their various specks and ... wonder. But. Today was Bagel Day for me, and Ancient Conspiracy Day for my beloved.

The beloved in question sneaked past the grocery store guards, clipboard in hand, to report his findings. This report took longer than I would have liked because the guards recognized Jack as soon as he removed his mask, necessitating an escape. We met at the rendezvous point in front of the toaster, a phrase here meaning "Jack smashed through the window and dramatically rolled across the floor while Kathryn was toasting bagels."

What Jack found out may surprise you. It may shock you. It may provide you with other emotional experiences found somewhere in a thesaurus. Prepare yourself.

Red wine is a Communist conspiracy.

There, I said it. I know. And you know that I know. And they know that you know that I know. Not a great place for either of us, as far as awareness of shadowy global conspiracies go. But red wine is a Communist conspiracy. You see, Jack unearthed two very important clues, and although they appear tenuously connected at first glance I assure you that there can be no mistake as to the dreadful progression of events.

You see, red is the color of the Communist flag.

Red wine is also red.

The connection is undeniable. Search your feelings, you wine-loving people, you know it to be true.

If you're about to ask, but, Kathryn, Communism is not as old as the process of wine-making, how can wine-making be a Communist plot? Well, take a seat.

I'm about to tell you all about time travel.

You see, time travel was invented by the ancient Illuminati for the terrible purpose of -- hey, wait, where are you going?

#ancientconspiraciesafoot