Crunkable Skunk Mountaintop Ranga Grinjablisto 2074
I just really love going to dinner with
these coolies up there with the vines in the rocks and no rows. It’s so cool.
Everybody’s so peaceful. They
make this wine in a thing made out of all their worn-out jumpers and beanies
soaked in pine resin and mud and you can breath every bit of the life they’ve
had through the beautiful natural grooblies.
You can tell the wine is made by somebody who talks real quiet and has a
lot of shit in their car and is probably called something like Fernly Moss or Starre Grazer. You wouldn’t take your shotgun up there. It probably wouldn’t discharge on account of the
vibe. But you can see the littlies stabbing
their grandparents’ woofers and tweeters with knitting needles and chopsticks
while the intermediary generation hums aw that’s cool baby, that’s so cool and
the speakers start making a noise like a plane crash slowed right down and
everyone chills right out. And the wine?
Man this wine is so stacked with goodness you can’t see through it, and
it’s white! When you encourage so much
life to thrive in an ongoing living thing like this it’s more of a movie than a
drink. Neither digital nor emulsional.
It’s bioillogical fructal Fibobrot mandelaci living shit! Chill.
Junketpants
Flora di Pecule 2034
Rarely do we see a gloop as alliaceous and
caprine as the ’34 Junketpants. Push
back your lussie toosk, dicht the gurr, pass your krater the trentlet virmish
it deserves and waller til your trapple’s globus. Wet da sleb and the
plenilunary hairst is immediately evident.
Nae swash for the peerie bairn, parvenu or parviscient, the damn thing
reeks so strong of rosmarine miasma and gutriv effluvia you’ll be yearning to ozeanischlück
it with pilticks in your porridge. On the other hand, served cold – fifteen
minutes in the ice bucket is suffice – it will just as well accompany pets de
nonne, or, in extreme conditions, maybe a stack of petit pets de putain. On the whole, it’s a powerful indicator of
the force and flexibility of Flora di Pecule: a variety deserving much more
attention in the hallowed halls of academe [take note Swine Research
Institute!] This is probly a wee prod personal but if his Mither'd permit it Proust would have been proud to use a tincture like this in his Search For Lost Time had he the moment
to spare and this mug in his mit. Who
knows the volumes of wonder it would have weweased? Vín kallak that! Fuck my temples, Lothar!
photo and old notepad illos©Philip
White
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