I like wine but Dr. A is the wine drinker in the family. I’m more of a beer, bourbon, and whisky kinda guy. Neither of us is an oenophile although I like the word. Words that begin with O are often funny even the medical ones: try saying osteopathic five times without giggling. End of marginally relevant opening paragraph.

Donald Trump is a teetotaler, which makes it odd that he bought a winery in Charlottesville. It was really a chance to swallow prime real estate in Albemarle County on the cheap. Believe me. Number two idiot son, Eric, runs the place.

This week’s quote comes from food writer Corby Kummer who explored the world of Trump wines in the company of an oenophile:

What about the 2015 Trump Meritage, a blend of red grapes that are “sourced,” meaning trucked in from the West Coast. The label calls it “American red wine”; it sells for $30 on the Web site. My guest tasted the Meritage: “Welch’s grape jelly with alcohol. A terrible, fumy, alcoholic nose. If I served you that on an airline you’d be mad.” (A buyer at a well-known Washington wine shop I later asked to evaluate the wines—he once sold Trump vodka, produced from 2005 to 2011, because he liked it—took one sip of the Meritage, wanted no more, and said, “Grocery-store wine.”) My guest went on, “They’re lying about the alcohol on the label.” He knew this, he explained, by a strange method of marching his two front fingers down his chest after he swallowed, saying that when he could feel the alcohol down to his belly button he knew it was 14 percent alcohol, which is what the label said. But this wine pushed his fingers below the belt. He knew the Meritage was 15 percent—and a 1 percent variance, oddly, is permitted on labels. “This’ll rip you,” he said.

Party on, Trumpy.

I bold-faced the best bit but the paragraph was too good to omit.  This oenophile knows his shit as well as his shitty wines. I’d be pissed if I paid good money for wine best suited for drinking out of a paper bag under an overpass. Trump swill wines, of course, aren’t as cheap as chips: they retail from $18 to $54. It’s what happens when a greedy teetotaler owns a winery.

I cheated a bit and posted a picture of the 2012 Meritage. Why? Because I have no idea what the hell a Monticello red wine is other than a marketing ploy to capitalize on Virginia’s Thomas Jefferson fetish. Jefferson was not a teetotaler and he never wore a dead nutria atop his head like the Insult Comedian.

What happens when a greedy teetotaler owns a winery? Welch’s grape jelly with alcohol.

Since Trump wines should be poured out, not consumed, I’ll give Eric Burdon and War the last word: