But without guitar (sorry- but my lack of musical skills means I will never grow up to be Joe Strummer but I will still make regular Clash references.).

Moving On.

Mephistopheles and I drink a lot of cheap wine. I prefer vodka (of holy spirit of the potato) but since the only hard liquors the Devil drinks are gin or scotch, we usually drink wine with dinner. The Devil had been dying to try this box (ohmygawdyoucan’tbuythat-itsabox!) of wine. For several weeks he kept picking it up and putting it down when I raised an eyebrow at him in the grocery store. Then one night he brought the box over along with a back-up bottle in case of serious suckage.

Serious suckage ensued of course. So this is a warning. Even if wine now comes in cute little boxes that look like European juice, DON”T BUY IT!. Is not vomitious exactly, but it is flat, unispired and saccharine. It has the sweetness of Smuckers jam instead of the subtle raspberry overtones and tannic tartness of a proper bottled wine. (That was the Devil spewing adjectives at me- he got even more wordy with his descriptions. I am shortening them because I have to listen- I sleep with him. You all don’t. Let’s just say my editing of his incomprehensible spouting is the only thing saving you from chewing off your own arm at his references of oakiness.)

To put it in terms much easier to remember if you are a functional alcoholic (see last week’s Stranger poll)

The Bandit Sucks!

The Bastard is much better. Ignore the wine stains on the kitchen counter.