First, there’s the tremendous look — the long hair, shades, and dark outfit. Then, there’s the swirling, followed by splashing wine on the face. Finally, that wonderful glance at the bottle at the end of the video.
Frankly, I wish I had thought of it. Can you see the WC, hat on head, rain fogging up glasses, doing the same thing?
“My aunt shared an article on Facebook about wine, so you know it’s legit”
The WC, in his never ending quest to bring young people to wine, has explored back alleys, ventured to three continents, slithered through the Internet, and even looked on YouTube. That’s where I found this, from CollegeHumor.
Yes, it ends predictably, but what comes before says everything that needs to be said. I can’t decide if my favorite part is “aerating the wine,” where the wine ends up spilled on the table, or the faux tasting notes, which had to be borrowed from various Winestream Media reviews. Or, of course, the spit bucket.
The funny thing about this “Schitt’s Creek” parody is not so much that it’s funny, but that it makes fun of almost every stupid wine ad ever
At first glance, this “Schitt’s Creek” wine commercial parody is funny because it’s “Schitt’s Creek” and it features the great Catherine O’Hara. But watch it again (and maybe again), and you’ll see there’s a lot more going on:
• It’s for fruit wine. Which, given the status fruit wine has in the wine world, is a joke unto itself.
• “In the lee of a picturesque ridge, lies a small, unpretentious winery.” Which, of course, is snotty and pretentious and speaks to almost every bad wine ad the blog has ever dissected.
• An almost dazzling amount of wine geek slang silliness. Some is obvious, “the muskmelon goodness of his oaked chardonnay” and calling a wine a riesling Rioja, which is actually impossible. And some is very geeky, like the term “good fruit.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tasted wine, nodded, and used the phrase — and I know better. So you can imagine how common it must be.
“Maybe wine wouldn’t be so bougie if more people listened to the WC.”
The Wine Curmudgeon’s ninth annual Do-it-yourself New Year’s wine resolutions. Welcome to 2022, wine drinkers!
Just click on the drop-down menus and select your wine resolutions for the new year. And, as always, thanks to Al Yellon, since I stole the idea from him — and he has never once complained.
“Sure, you can drop my wine — and then you can distribute even more wine that tastes exactly alike, sweet and smoooth. It might make you even richer, which is all you apparently care about.”
In which the WC parodies yet another Christmas classic – because who else who writes about wine would do that?
“Now, George, do you really want to jump?”
George Bailey, standing on the edge of the bridge, looked next to him. A small, bald man was sitting on the bridge railing. He ignored the man, moved to climb on to the railing.
“Now, George. …”
George stopped, turned. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m your guardian angel.”
“And I need one because?
“Because you’re going to jump – because you don’t think there’s any reason to keep going. Three of your distributors are going to drop you. Your sales manager is quitting. And it doesn’t seem like anyone wants to buy your quality, inexpensive wine.”
“I don’t know about the guardian angel thing, but you’re right about the rest. I’d be better off jumping. Then my wife can sell the winery and the vineyards, cash in on the value of the land, and everyone will be better off.”
“Your wife? The one who looks like Donna Reed?”
“Terrific. I have a guardian angel with a sense of humor.”
“I have more than that, George. I can make you see what the world would have been like without you.”
“What do you mean?” asked George, and then he didn’t remember anything else.
•
“This is my winery. Or it should be my winery. Why does it look so strange?”
“Because, George, you were never born. So this can’t be your winery.”
They were standing outside a building that looked like it should be on the cover of Architectural Digest – all glass and ceilings and reflections.
A young man, who looked like he lived in a building that should be on the cover of Architectural Digest, walked up to them. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” said George. “This is my winery. I need to get in it. I have a Zoom sales meeting.”
The young man looked at him. “Your winery? I think not. This is Mt. Holy, a subscription-only winery where we only make reds, each scores 100 points, and none cost less than $150 a bottle. And, since we only make 35 cases a year, we’d certainly never let anyone like you buy one.”
“But this is my winery. I own this land. My kids’ stuffed animals are in my office.”
The angel took his arm, led him off. “It can’t be your winery, George. You were never born.”
•
They were standing outside what looked like a wine shop. “I know this place,” said George. “It’s the terrific little store in the Bay Area, the one owned by the smart, funny guy who has always, always liked my wines.”
“Look again, George.”
He did, and then wished he hadn’t. The store was called TotAlcBevCostKrogTarg, and there wasn’t an employee in sight – just rows and rows and rows of rows of merchandise, each row looking exactly the same.
“Where’s my wine?” said George. “I need to find my wine.” He ran to the front of the store, practically tackled someone who seemed to be an employee.
“Where’s my wine?” He was close to screaming.
“Wine? Who buys wine anymore?” said the employee. “Now, if you want to buy hard seltzer or craft beer or canned cocktails or strawberry gin or kombucha, we’ve got that. I think the wine is in the back of the store, aisle 176.”
“No, no, no,” said George. “It can’t be. …”
The angel took his arm, led him off. “It can be, George. You were never born.”
•
“What am I going to do?” said George. He was near tears.
“Just realize that jumping wasn’t going to solve anything.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” said George, and then he wasn’t on the bridge. He was in his office in the winery, stuffed animals exactly where they should be. The angel was gone.
His sales manager walked into the room. “I’ve changed my mind, George,” she said. “I don’t want to quit after all. I’d rather work for you. What’s the point of flogging wine where the only selling point is that it’s smoooth?”
“Thank you, thank you,” said George. “But what are going to do about the distributors dropping us?”
“You know, that’s a funny thing,” said the sales manager. “Did you see this, written by that guy with the beard and glasses, the one who wears the hats?”
She handed him her phone. It was a glowing review of the winery’s $12 red blend: “Just the kind of wine California needs to make more of … highly recommended … certain to enter the Hall of Fame next year … candidate for Cheap Wine of the Year.”
“And I always thought he was weird,” said George.
“I think I can use this review to find new distributors, ones who will give us a better shake than the old ones did,” said the sales manager. “We’ve at least got a shot now, which we didn’t have much of before.”
“You’re right,” said George. “I wonder how that little guy on the bridge knew that.”
And then George thought he heard a screwcap untwist and someone pour a glass of wine. “Of course I knew that, George. That’s what guardian angels are for.”
“I know I saw a bottle of white zinfandel in there. I demand to know who brought it!”
No, wine shaming is not OK, and six other things we don’t need when it comes to holiday wine
Almost everyone who writes about wine – whether Winestream or Mainstream Media – laments how difficult it is to do wine for the holidays.
Phooey.
So when I saw this post from Lifehacker, I thought: We need something like that for holiday wine. Hence, seven things that should be banned from the holiday wine experience:
1. Bragging about how cheap the wine was. Even the Wine Curmudgeon is sometimes guilty of that, for which I am always severely reprimanded. The point, or course, is that the wine is enjoyable. Price only matters if someone asks.
2. Bragging about how expensive the wine was. The WC has never done this – but those of you who have done it know exactly who you are.
3. Bringing a bottle of wine to dinner that no one but you has ever heard of or could possibly like — because, of course, the goal is to show you know more about wine than anyone else.
4. Bringing Two-buck Chuck, Winking Owl, or any of the others in the $3 wine reviews to dinner because they’re cheap and for no other reason. It’s a holiday, dammit. It’s OK to spend $10 for wine for the people that you care most about.
5. Wine shaming (see No. 3). In other words, when you see a bottle of white zinfandel or Apothic on the table, it’s not OK to snigger, point to the bottle, and make a snarky comment.
6. Launching into an interminable discussion about wine and food pairings and how you spent three weeks and consulted seven sommeliers to find the perfect wine for this particular holiday dinner (see No. 3 again). No one cares. And why should they?
7. “Taste this, it’s really good,” and making someone try something they obviously don’t want to try. Wine is not a mud pie to force on your little sister, so don’t treat it like one.
by Wine Curmudgeon Posted On
