I am by no means, a wine conniseur. I’m not even sure if I’m spelling “conniseur” correctly.* This is not to say I’m not a wine enjoyer (enjoyeur?). I just couldn’t tell you the difference between a sommelier and a sommelflange.**
There is one type that I am curious to try, though: Norton. In 1873, Norton wine was deemed the “best wine of all nations” at a competition in Vienna. It is described as “dark in color with big fruity flavors, firm acidity, and a sweet taste that does not deliver typical ‘foxy’ flavors and fragrances.”***
The main reason, though, is that if history had played out differently, Norton wine may have been called LeMosy instead.
The gist of the story is that Dr. Daniel Norborne Norton developed the ”Norton” grape on his farm in Richmond, Virginia in the 1820’s. In 1861, though, an article was published by a certain Mr. Francis William LeMosy (my Great-great grandfather) stating that his father, Dr. Francis Augustus LeMosy (my Great-great-great grandfather) had, in fact, originally found the grape growing in the wild on Cedar Island in the James River.
The whole history of the thing is a bit murky. It’s pretty well established, though, that Dr. Norton did, in fact, develop the grape himself, and wine historians tend to paint my ancestors as a pack of loons.
So, the moral of the story is: Horticulture is a cutthroat business, man.
* Spellcheck assures me I am.
** I know what a sommelier is, but even the Thundercats don’t know what a sommelflange is.
*** And, I’m guessing, it’ll get you wicked crunk.
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death Saturday afternoon television, and Hell followed with him.
- Revelation 6:8…ish
Or any daytime/afternoon TV for that matter. Admittedly, I usually have the TV on in a background noise capacity, but for the past couple weeks I have been forced to confront this scourge head on - - applied directly to my forehead! - - as I have been unable to buffer myself with work, due to the unfortunate absence of young Penfold.
A very wise man once wrote:
“In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn’t cope with, and that terrible listlessness which starts to set in at about 2:55, when you know that you’ve had all the baths you can usefully have that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the papers you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o’clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul.”
- Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe and Everything
The Long, Dark Teatime of the Soul. This is where I am, at present, firmly ensconced. One could posit that when I once again have a fully-functional computer, that I might be able to watch the hands move to five, maybe even six o’clock, knowing that more entertaining and enlightening hours are shortly to arrive. Truth be told, though: it’s been teatime for a long time. I know that until I can find a job with other real, live Homo sapiens sapiens (or, heck, even Homo sapiens superior; I have no mutant bias), that it will more than likely continue to remain time for NBC Sports coverage of the Professional Bull Riding 2007 “Built Ford Tough” Series, Presented by Wrangler.
I wish I had more news to report, Internets. Unfortunately, I have come upon a period of fierce languidity, instigated by my severe lack of computer power. I have felt a small, wispy cloud of neurotic floating around in my brain ever since I sent my laptop to Kansas to be repaired. It’s a little disquieting how dependent I am on such a tenuously reliable machine. It sucks that I find myself at what amounts to a grinding halt without it. There is a sizeable pile of things that need to be resolved, and the only tool for the job is “waiting on a part.”
This sort of reliance on a computer can’t be good. It is exactly this sort of thing that will bring about our eventual Terminator and/or Matrix apocalyptic future. Something must be done about this before it’s too late!
But, man…I really hope they can fix it by this weekend.
In other news, here is what I would look like, were I an M&M:
It’s all very scientific, with various sliders and color swatches and dismembered body parts. The end result is nothing short of delicious…in a creepy, self-consumptory way. Click here to create your own candy-shelled, chocolate-filled doppelgänger!
I have arrived at a target date of “January-ish” for getting my own place here in Des Moines. How “ish” the date turns out to be remains to be seen, but I have decided on a course of action that will hopefully expedite things a good bit…or, if nothing else, at least coddle me with the illusion that I am accomplishing something. First things first, though: Today, I got me some newtools…through entirely legitimate and law-abiding means, of course. Portfolio updates coming soon…
Curse my mortal body and its need for human sleep…I could get so much done otherwise. I am excited and eager to transform and roll out now that I have an idea…
On a totally unrelated note, Sam & Max are back to love me in that special way they do. In turn, I love them as fully and completely as a man can love a fictional dog and rabbit…which, if you didn’t know, is quite a large bit.
*yawns*
…alright, dammit, you win again, brain. You always do. I will give you your precious sleep, in return for certain…favors…to be redeemed later at a time of my choosing…
As we approach the upcoming November mid-term elections this year, one question weighs heavily in the air: Will there be a shift in the balance of power? Will voters finally realize that the current party in power is corrupt, incompetent…perhaps even dangerous? And, ultimately, will they vote accordingly?I hope so. I hope that we, as a nation, can finally stand up and say “enough is enough!” I urge you to join me this Fall, and cast your vote for change! Cast your vote for a new future!
Cast your vote… for Chris Christmas Rodriguez to replace Santa this year!
For more information, please visit the Chris Christmas Rodriguez video archive.
One of my college roommates, Sketch Quinn, is an animator for the Adult Swim show “Squidbillies,” and this past Sunday he used that fact to his ultimate advantage. Immediately after Sunday’s episode of the show, this “bump” aired, nationwide on Cartoon Network:
I have been sitting here for a period of time that can only be described as “multiple hours.” And yet, as I periodically avert my gaze down to the clock readout in the corner of my screen, invariably, it is as follows:
Me: (looks down at clock)
“It is 10:06 PM.”
Me: (continues to peruse the Internet(s) for what seems to be a multitudinous number of hours)
Me: (again, looks down at the clock)
“It is 10:24 PM.”
Me: (begins acruing a growing fear he may be trapped in a tesseract of space-time)
Sting’s voice is oddly hypnotizing. The government should look into this. Seriously, this has some Manchurian Candidate-caliber potential.
Sting: (singing) “Shoooooot the prime minister of Cambooooodia…” You: “Must… obey… Sting…” Sniper Rifle: *BLAM!* Prime Minister of Cambodia: “AAARGH! Damn you… Sting! Damn… you…!” (dies)
