Molesworth Wins the Pulitzer Prize for Wine Reviews

I was thinking about writing a piece about overblown, fatuous wine reviews, and, serendipitously, found a review of James Molesworth's over at Wine Spectator that was an exemplar of the style. On a whim, I read about six of his reviews--it didn't take any more than that--from the past couple of months, all from the Highly Recommended wines section of the site. Five of them were superbly pretentious, the sixth merely self-parody. So, without the permission of the Columbia School of Journalism, I took the liberty over at Tim Atkin to award Molesworth the first Pulitzer Prize for Wine Reviews. I think you'll find the notes from the Awards Committee to be wonderfully enlightening.

I hope you common taters will feel free to light up Tim Atkin with your thoughts, or leave them here on the back porch as you usually do.

Tim Atkin MW

Three Hundred

According to the stats on my Google Blogger dashboard, this is my 300th post for HoseMaster of Wine™. A few of them were reruns--“Best of HoseMaster,” an oxymoron if there ever was one. But I also wrote more than fifty posts on the original incarnation of the blog, now expunged from the Intergnats, so 300 is a fair number. And a big number. It’s my excuse for a bit of self-indulgence. Consider yourself warned. This will be dull.

I have some regrets about my work here. I wish I had taken it more seriously. So many of my pieces were written in haphazard fashion, and are painfully sloppy to me in retrospect. When I go back through my Archives (a fancy word for what amounts to a compost heap), I am usually embarrassed. There are pieces I’m proud of, but, for the most part, my work has been driven by the need to just get it done, get something posted, keep up with my gluttonous blog. My excuse was that I was writing for free. The truth is, I was lazy.

Writing satirically about wine, and the wine business, combines the two things I have loved most in my life—comedy writing and wine. I began writing jokes around the age of 10. Once a week, at Lowell Elementary School, children in the fifth grade spent an hour at “religious studies.” Amazing, right? The Catholic kids went to one classroom, the Jewish kid (yup, one kid) was in another, the Christian kids yet another. I wasn’t of any denomination, had never attended a place of worship of any kind, unless you count Dodger Stadium. So I was allowed a free hour to do whatever I wanted in the classroom, as long as it was quiet and harmless. I wrote. I wrote jokes, and I wrote science fiction stories featuring the amazing Dr. Cucumber. Yes, Freud would have had a field day with Dr. Cucumber. Thanks to not believing in any God, I became funny.

Writing is serious business to me. I think about it often, and I care about it deeply. I write, at some level, because reading takes us out of time. When you read, as you are reading these words, time recedes to the background, and, for those hours or minutes you are reading, you step outside of time and live in your memory, all by yourself, in places where time no longer matters. Nothing else does this. When I write for HoseMaster, I write to take folks away from their lives for a few minutes to laugh. I know what it’s like for you. You read my crapola with a growing anticipation of when your laughs will come—sometimes, they never do. You aren’t thinking about your marriage or your job or your toothache, you’re hoping a laugh will come by soon. And even if I don’t make you laugh, even if I make you angry, or squeamish, or disgusted, you’ve stepped out of time for those moments and, I hope, become yourself for a bit. You choose what you laugh at here—my cruelty, my silliness, my absurdity—but you choose to come here, of all the places you might choose, to escape time for a few minutes, and I’m deeply flattered.

I don’t get writer’s block. There’s no such thing. It’s as imaginary as Gold Medals and perfect 100 point wines. My father worked in factories his entire life, and he never once had “assembly line block.” Writing is work. Avoiding it is easy, and has its pleasures. I can go on writing HoseMaster until I reach 10,000 posts, though I won’t. And I won’t ever have writer’s block. There are ideas around us all the time, right there, right in front of our eyes and noses. We have only to give them voice to give them life. I don’t believe anyone walks away from their blog because they’re out of ideas. They walk away because it doesn’t seem worth it, or because they have no audience. In many ways, it’s not worth it. I want to walk away at least once a week. But then I’ll write a joke that seems lovely, even perfect, and I want to feel that feeling again. Where the joke comes from, I don’t have even the slightest idea. The best ones seem to arrive on imaginary stone tablets, handed down from a comedy God. I simply proclaim them. And when those jokes are delivered to me, it’s a unique experience. It’s rare, it’s always unexpected, and it’s addictive. So I keep writing. Writing has always been worth it to me.

Writing comedy and satire comes from a place of anger and self-loathing. When I was much younger, this caused me no end of pain. I’d write comedy for ten hours, and be filled with sadness and rage for no readily apparent reason. With age, I’ve learned how to channel all of that, use it, control it, and not suffer from it as much. Yet I often worry about how my words might affect the people I lampoon. Satire requires fearlessness, but that doesn’t rule out insecurity or worry. I try never to pull punches, but I also try never to throw sucker punches. I believe that my targets have earned my weapons, though I’m too often guilty of using a grenade launcher when an arrow would have been adequate. The worst sorts of people in life, and I’m referring to the Rick Perrys and Sarah Palins and Ann Coulters of the world, are still human (the wine biz doesn’t really have the equivalent of those sorts of cretins). Like everyone, they deserve forgiveness, yet they also invite scorn. It’s my lot in life to deliver scorn. I leave forgiveness to people better than I. 

Wine has always been seen as a gentleman’s sport. Like any sport, it’s often filled with scoundrels, liars, posers, hypocrites and charlatans. Only in the wine business, one is not supposed to point all of that out, at least not in public. I’m not a crusader, not by any means. I’m merely the Fool. But I try to choose how I approach my subjects carefully, try to go after the scoundrels, liars, posers, hypocrites and charlatans with the sharpest razor, while gently prodding those others I make fun of who just don’t know any better. I think the responses I get to my pieces tell an interesting story of how accurately I accomplish this. When I seem to have hit a jugular vein, the reaction is usually a kind of collective cringing. When I miss, perhaps cross some sort of line, the reaction is often a stunned silence. I learn from those reactions. Satire only works when the tone is right, gentle on one occasion, ferocious on another. Get the occasions confused, and it falls flat. I’ve fallen flat too often for my own liking. Yet more regret.

I have no illusions about my reach. My audience has grown over the past couple of years, but it’s still meager. Nothing about wine or wine reviewing or wine writing will change because the HoseMaster was here. There are inmates on death row with more fans. I don’t write HoseMaster to become famous in the wine business—that’s a fool’s errand, one being pursued by no end of nitwits who comment on STEVE! to boost their recognition. I don’t write it to get free wine, which is lucky because I’m pretty much a failure at that (though I have been gifted by regular readers who make wine, and it’s a lovely gesture to exchange my creative abilities with theirs). I don’t write it for money, though Tim Atkin is kind enough to pay me a bit for my pieces on his blog. I think I write it to see what I’ll say next. Or, more accurately, to see what the HoseMaster will say next.

Most of you will agree, I’m certain, that there is so little worth reading on wine blogs. The vast majority of the ones I’ve looked at are dismal—tired, talentless and trite. A collection of journeys meaningless for their collective banality. When I began HoseMaster of Wine™, three hundred pieces ago, I spent a lot of my time making fun of wine bloggers. I have no idea why. It’s the wine business, the marketing people, the professional wine writers, and the celebrity sommeliers that deserve more scorn. And so my focus has gradually shifted in their direction. Not that it matters. Yet no matter how cruel or insulting or demeaning my pieces can be, I have great fondness and love for the wine business, far more than almost anyone I know. My only talent of any kind, superficial as it might be, is writing jokes, satire, comedy, meretricious pantagruel… For me, every one of my pieces is a love letter to wine.

300 down, who knows how many more to go. I wonder, all the time, how much longer I can channel the HoseMaster. I wish people understood that the HoseMaster is not me, and I am not the HoseMaster. But wishes are the dreams of the hopeless. Meanwhile, thank you for allowing the HoseMaster into your heads twice a week. I don’t hear from very many of you who regularly read this blog, but I know you’re out there. I have no idea why, but you’re out there. I guess, just like me, you’re wondering what the HoseMaster will say next.

Lo Hai Qu on Lo's New Blog for Millennials!

Ever since she won a Poodle for her “The Death of Wine Critics,” Lo Hai Qu has been insufferable.

She’s convinced Hollywood is going to make a film about her life starring Justin Bieber in the title role. It would be his second role portraying a woman, the other being his entire life. She’s already started writing the screenplay. It’s about her life in servitude organizing my wine cellar, and is entitled “House of Racks.” I told her Russ Meyer made that film, but the allusion was a bust. But in order to get her off my aching back, I’ve agreed to once again turn over HoseMaster of Wine™ to her so she can express her thoughts about wine. I’m sure she expects, at the very least, to win another Poodle Award, if not a James Beard Award, or a Pritzker. I told her that the Pritzkers are for Architects, but she said she was sure Cambodians could win as well. Which may be true, but she’s not even Cambodian. Anyway, here she is, the one, the only, Lo Hai Qu.


First of all, let me say that this blog is stupid. I don’t understand hardly any of the stuff the HoseMaster is talking about. And who the hell are these supposedly famous people he’s always making fun of? Tim Fish? Who’s he? I have no idea, but when did he say goodbye to his partner. Mr. Chips? He’s always making fun of Alice Feiring. I asked my girls if they ever heard of her. Nope. But they all guessed with a name like Alice she was either really old or a dude. And then there’s some Heimoff maneuver guy, and 1WineDoody, which is what was in my panties after I drank some Lodi Petite Sirah and had to fire off a Lo-flying rocket. The whole thing doesn’t make any fucking sense.

So, come on, ask yourself, why would somebody decide to start reading wine blogs? Duh. To learn about wine. I’ve been reading this lame blog since I started working here, and what have I learned about wine from the so-called HoseMaster of Wine? (fuck that ™ thing, what does that stand for, Tiny Manhood?)—zip, nada, zero, Bublé. Who reads this crap? Best Writing on a Wine Blog? It’s not even the Best Writing on the Head of a Pin. It’s the Best Writing by a Pinhead, though. HAHAHAHAHAHA, you been Lo-balled, HoseBoy.

Me and my friends decided we would start our own wine blog. We’re going to make a wine blog just like one we want to read, and with a lot of cool pictures of us like photo-bombing winemakers, or posing with really big bottles of wine (one of the biggest ones is called a “Meshuggenah” and was named for some crazy old Jewish king—so, like an ancient Harvey Weinstein), or hanging with cute guys working in tasting rooms. And it’s going to have lots of good information about wine so that when other Millennials read it they’ll learn not to be scared of wine. There’s nothing to be scared of. One thing I’ve learned here, for sure, is that there can’t be very much to know about wine. Look at the comments section! Yeah, those are some smart people... And I’m Yao Ming’s dental floss. You mostly just have to tell everybody you’re a wine expert, and they believe you! That’s how wine blogs work. People are fucking stupid. Like they watch America’s Got Talent and believe that Howie Mandel and Heidi Klum know about talent. Which is like saying you know what diarrhea feels like when you never had it. HAHAHAHAHAHA, Howie and Heidi got Lo-Botomized!

Me and my friends are going to call our new wine blog Lo on Wine. Get it? Yeah, I know, it’s perfect. I’m gonna be the one who writes the wine reviews. At first, I’ll just steal wines from the samples the HoseMaster gets. That’s easy. He’s mostly drunk all the time. And then he talks to his little white thing. I still don’t know why he calls it Jay Mac. So I already wrote my first wine review! Here’s a preview!

MÉNAGE Á TROIS 2011 WHITE  WINE $10

This is three different whites blended together, like a Mormon wedding. It’s got Chardonnay and Chenin Blanc and Muscat Alexandria. I’ve heard of one of those grapes, and it’s not the last two. Or is it the last four? I thought Chenin Blanc was one of Beyoncé’s backup singers, the one with the booty that looks like a Honey Baked Ham franchise. White wine all tastes the same to me. Like it’s all fruity, and smells like the inside of your fridge. This was good, but I think I’d rather die than drink it again, really, really good, like sex with two other people at once.

See! A little bit of education, and then some honest tasting notes. Oh, man, we are going to get a million samples. Especially with that new ending. Fuck, I almost blew that. No Jay Mac jokes! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, his dick got Diss-Lo-Cated!

We’re going to get a million hits a month on Lo on Wine. I won a Wine Blog Award! With my very first post! Who’s ever done that? So everyone is going to want to read Lo on Wine. We’re gonna have lots of regular features too. Like my friend Shizzangela, she’s this really hot white chick, and we’re going to take pictures of her that will illustrate how wine is made! She’s not afraid to be pretty naked, and she has like these amazing tattoos. Millennials think tattoos are hot because nothing says hot like drunken sailors. So one idea is to have one of the guys wear a hockey mask and carry a chainsaw and pretend to be sawing off Shizzangela’s legs and the caption reads, “Destemmed.” Did I say Shizzangela is only wearing panties and two Dom Perignon labels covering her nips? Tell me that won’t get a link from Eric Amazon. And then we’ll have a regular feature about all the different grapes and we’ll just copy the text from that Janice Robinson book. You know, really, one of the best things about my generation is we don’t think plagiarism is any big deal. Got us through college, what’s so bad about that?

So now you won’t have to read this stupid blog any more. All the wine stuff you want to know will be on Lo on Wine. Like information you can use, and cool photos and links to all the other cool Millennial blogs out there. I even have my first sentence written!

I hope you’ll join me on my journey to discover wine.

Fuck, I love plagiarism.

Le Petomane of Wine

Here is a piece from March 3, 2010. At the time, wine bloggers were actively soliciting samples from wineries, bragging of their imaginary abilities to sell a lot of wine. I doubt much has changed. And yet samples are still shipped to hapless and unqualified Poodles daily, the lazy winery Marketing Director's answer to what he's been doing lately. But my real motivation for writing the piece was probably as an excuse to mention one of history's greatest performers, Le Petomane. So, here, from the dark days of 2010, is my blog counterpart, Le Petomane of Wine:


I asked a friend at a small winery to allow me to read a typical note from a wine blogger asking for samples. He receives several solicitations every month, even more right before Christmas. Here is the letter he gave me.
 
To Whom It May Concern,

I know that it's going to be a little hard for you to believe that you're actually hearing from me. No one ever expected Ed McMahon to send them a letter from Publisher's Clearing House either. And few women ever expected to get to sleep with Warren Beatty, though none of the thousands who did complained, even if they did have to put Vaseline in their eyes to make him look younger. It's just not every day you have contact with a celebrity. But I assure you it's true. I really am contacting you for samples of your wonderful wines. I know how much excitement this will cause you, and I certainly know that what's running through your mind now is the amount of sales a review from my wine blog, LePetomaneofWine, will generate, but I urge you to calm down, take a deep breath, good, now think about hiring some extra help for your shipping department before the surge.

As you undoubtedly have heard from other winery owners in your appellation, wine blogs are now the most important source for reviews and sales. Sure, once upon a time it was the media, but those days are long past. Wine lovers have caught on to the fact that 40% of the wineries Parker critiques are fictional, not to mention 100% of the numbers. And, of course, Parker is dead and his recent reviews were generated randomly by machines formerly used for tabulating Florida elections. Wine Spectator only makes money giving restaurants awards for their fictional wine lists in much the same manner every kid on the soccer team gets a trophy no matter how spastic they are. No one believes Wine Spectator numbers any more, anyway--not when you've got professional wine bloggers reviewing the very same crap! Do I even have to mention Wine and Spirits Magazine? Have their reviews ever sold wine? Have you ever met anybody, anywhere who subscribes to Wine and Spirits? If your leg had their circulation you'd have to have it amputated. No, my friend, more and more the wine buying public is turning to wine blogs, and my blog, in particular, for their wine buying advice. But you already knew this, and that's why your hand is shaking right now, as you read this, knowing that this is your chance. I know, I know, it's hard for me to believe too.

Mind you, I didn't ask for this sort of power and responsibility. I began my wine blog six months ago on a whim. Well, to be honest, so many people have urged me to write about wine, so many of my friends and family turn to me for wine advice knowing that I've learned a lot in the past six years I've been an avid wine drinker, I only felt it was fair to let everyone in on my expertise. When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. It saves them time and money. Honestly, we should apply the same logic to the Health Care Debate. Next time you need surgery, get it from a second year medical student--hell, they know plenty, certainly more than you, what could go wrong? See what I mean? Training and knowledge are vastly overrated. It's opinions that matter. Best of all, it's guaranteed positive opinions that matter! And, here's a bonus, on the off chance that I don't like your wine you can always say I wasn't really qualified to judge it--try saying that about Sunset Magazine! OK, bad example.

You may be wondering just what kind of audience, and how large an audience, my blog, LePetomaneofWine, attracts. Since I began my blog six months ago my numbers have increased tenfold from just my parents reading it! And if you look at my Facebook page you'll see that I have more than 300 friends, many of them part of the local prison population. I am a prolific user of Twitter, and after I taste your wine samples you will see the Twittersphere come alive with comments I post like, "Want a great Syrah tonight, check out my blog!" Wait! What was that noise? Oh, sorry, it's the sound of cash registers ringing--always happens when I Tweet. And what does all this cost you? The price of two bottles of each of your wines (one to review, one to sell on Craigslist) and shipping! I know, it seems too good to be true.

You must know that ignoring wine blogs is foolish. Everyone in the wine business knows this by now. Read any wine blog! It's right there in print--wine blogs are the most influential force in the wine business today. It's on the Internet, and you can't say it on the Internet if it's not true. Except on Facebook, which is all about lying. Why waste your time courting critics, risking the chance that someone will detect the many flaws in your wine? I'm not going to notice. The only flaw I notice in any wine is the price tag. Why waste all that time and money traveling to wine shops? They have no influence! Wine shops are just like gas stations, people go there to fill up, not get advice on how to drive! One mention on my blog and those wine shop buyers will be phoning you begging for wine! Don't be the one winery left behind by the Social Media revolution! And don't settle for any second-rate wine blogs either. OK, they're all second-rate, don't settle for any third-rate wine blogs.

I eagerly anticipate your case of samples. Please note that I do not guarantee I will review your wines on LePetomaneofWine. But you can trust that I will drink them.

Sincerely
Le Petomane

Dr. Conti's New Lawyer Rests His Case

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,

Now, I came to this case a little late. You may have heard that I was busy in Florida getting a guy off for shooting an unarmed kid. Was he guilty? Hell, yes, he was guilty, but, you know, he didn’t just shoot any kid. He shot a kid in a hoodie. Which is different than shooting a kiddie in the hood. Or is it? No matter, the point is, he shot that kid in self defense. Luckily, he had a gun. Otherwise, the kid beats the living crap out of him in self defense. But having a gun makes you brave, makes you a man. Like wearing droopy pants makes you guilty. Which is why we should kill all the plumbers.

My client, Dr. Conti, is also not guilty, and for essentially the same reasons as my Florida client. But I’ll get to that, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll get to that.

Now, here we have a case that involves wine. It’s a case of wine! Who doesn’t love a case of wine? Only this was fake wine. Well, now, that’s not entirely accurate. It was actual wine, only it was wine that was put in the wrong bottles! Is it possible it was just a series of honest mistakes on my client’s part?  Who hasn’t made the mistake of putting, say, lubricant on their toothbrush? Which is better than putting toothpaste on your dingdong, by the way, unless you’re brushing someone else’s teeth with it. Dr. Conti had wine; he had a lot of wine. An overflow of wine. And, in a panic, or maybe he was a little tipsy, he took some of that wine and he poured it in the wrong bottles. Honest mistake. Did he then recork those bottles and reseal them? Yes, and that was wrong. Did he then sell those wines to a whole bunch of rich wine snobs, a bunch of old men, most of whom made their money on the backs of honest people like you, men who collect rare wine just for the status it gives them, just for the prestige of the labels? Yup. And here’s where my Florida case comes back in. Didn’t they deserve to get screwed? Given the chance, wouldn’t you brush their teeth with your meat thief? I know I would. Then give ‘em something to gargle with.

Dr. Conti saw these alleged victims hanging around auctions, loitering around places where extremely valuable wines were being sold, and he knew they were up to no good. So he followed them, as any good wine-loving citizen would, learned their habits, went undercover to understand their terrible corruption, and then, when no one else had the courage to, he lured them into his trap and exposed them for the greedy, ignorant, dangerous men they are. Men who make a mockery of wine appreciation. Men who collect the greatest wines ever made with no intention of ever drinking them! Men who believe having old and rare wine makes them more masculine, like owning a gun. Dr. Conti took these men on. And for his courage he is incarcerated. 

You’ve seen evidence of Dr. Conti’s fraudulent label making equipment found by the police when they searched his home. It’s not illegal to possess that printing equipment, ladies and gentleman, just like it’s not illegal to possess a gun. Where the law comes in is when you actually use it. Why you used it. What motivated you to use it. Who was hurt when you used it.  Was the person you hurt of some societal value? That’s what we ask juries to decide. In Florida, they know when a life is not a life worth worrying about. They’re old and wise there in Florida, and they know the Fountain of Youth needs restocking. I think here in New York, you’ll know when a victim is not really a victim, too. They’re not victims when they’re pretentious, rich, arrogant titans of the One Percent. They’re not victims when they are scammed in a way that defends the very hobby they insult and abuse with their greed. And no victims, ladies and gentlemen, means no crime.

I want you to think about what my client actually did. Some of it isn’t right, I’ll admit that. But he’s not guilty of these charges, not in the legal sense. Guilty of stupidity? Well, sure, but, ladies and gentlemen, wine auctions and wine collecting are built on stupidity as their very foundation! Everyone involved in this, from the auction houses to the alleged victims, engages in a legalized form of stupid behavior. Every wine the alleged victims buy at auction is a bottle with questionable provenance, a badly decomposing cork that has affected the quality of the wine, and sports a label that has almost no meaning any more. How were the wines Dr. Conti sold to these suckers any different than those? Because he knew they were fakes? Does it matter? When one of these wealthy corksuckers actually opens a bottle for his friends, will they know the difference? Trained and experienced sommeliers wouldn’t know the difference, how would a bunch of drunk old Texans know the difference? They’re getting the same thrill from one of Dr. Conti’s fake bottles as they would from an actual bottle of Screaming Asshole, or whatever that wine is.  Isn’t that what they paid for when they purchased his bottles at auctions? The prestige and excitement of opening the bottles they purchased whether they knew where they were actually from, or what they would end up tasting like? The auction house knew they were fakes, or should have. Why aren’t they in jail, or at least being prosecuted? Because, then, ladies and gentlemen, the entire foundation of stupidity is removed from the monument that is big money wine auctions, and the entire institution collapses, leaving all these rich corksuckers with virtually worthless wine cellars. They won’t stand for that. Try taking their Viagra from them, might as well. You’ll find out why they aren’t old softies.

So instead they’ve gone after my client. He had money. He didn’t do this for the money. Dr. Conti did it to save us from ourselves. Those of us who love wine, who believe that wine is proof that God loves us and hates Seventh Day Adventists, who draw daily joy and strength from Jesus’ first miracle. These alleged victims were out to destroy wine, to inflate its value beyond the means of the Ninety-Nine Percent, to leave all of us to aspire to twelve dollar Lodi Zinfandel as the pinnacle of our wine drinking. Dr. Conti exposed them. Dr. Conti made a mockery of wine geeks, of the habitués of mindless wine chat rooms, though the phrase is redundant, and of the attendees of glamorous wine orgies masquerading as charity auctions, where the One Percent can give back to those poor people they’ve so ruthlessly exploited by bidding lavishly, and stupidly, on the same labels Dr. Conti so easily reproduced and made worthless. Like my Florida client, Dr. Conti proves that judging a book by its cover, be it a boy by how he’s dressed, or a label by how it looks, is perfectly legal. It's fine to destroy either one. It’s not his fault, it’s the victim’s. Nothing could be clearer, or more legal.

We don’t owe him conviction, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we owe him thanks.