Serious question — You receive this bottle of champagne from a pal and he sends this review along with it. What do you do?
The year 1962 gave us three important happenings. The first was the death of Marilyn Monroe, a tragedy beyond our ability to embrace. The second was the Cuban Missile Crisis that took the world to the edge of the abyss with nuclear war at the bottom and our toes dangling over the edge. The third happening offset the first two—Dom Perignon bottled a 1962 brut from an extraordinary crop that has changed the course of history and may change yours.
This vintage is a daring, naughty, mischievous, champagne worthy only of the most significant events in a person’s life. If your son comes out from Harvard or Yale or Oxford or the London School of Economics first in his class or stumbles upon the cure for cancer, then this is a celebratory champagne worthy of you and him.
It is a complex wine with rich notes of apricot, orange peel, smoke, sweet spices, and will raise the IQ of anybody within ten feet when the bottle is opened. Substantially. If your daughter were to take the oath of office as the Nation’s first woman President, this wine was made for her. She should drink it, share it with you, but none for lesser politicians even those of her own party.
If you regularly hob nob with either royalty or billionaires, then count them as poor men if you and only you own a bottle of this vintage blessed by God and they do not. I swear to you upon my honor, I would not take the crown jewels of small European countries in barter for a case of this rare triumph over Mother Nature’s base and callous character.
In sharing this bottle, be cautious for any human who drinks it at your table and upon your indulgence will follow you around as if you have given them the very gift of life as no man has lived until they have tasted this nectar. If you seek to make a woman love you, look no further. Even the promise of a sip of this precious liquid will make a wife or a supremely competent whore, whichever you may fancy, of any woman who drinks it from your glass.
I highly recommend that as you near the end of your pathetic reign as a sovereign leader of an important country—including you, dear Queen Elizabeth, my favorite sovereign—you meet your end with this wine having wet your mouth whether you are headed to Heaven or Hell. There is a very good chance that if you offer Lucifer a glass, he may pardon you and look away as you scamper toward the Pearly Gates.
If you ever lack for a drinking companion, please call me. I will attend to you, laugh at your jokes, wash your cars, cut your lawn, trim your shrubs or toe nails, walk your dogs, and fuck your wife—and undertake any other odious chores, if you will pour my glass half full with Dom Perignon Brut of the year 1962, a damn good vintage. Bon appetit and God save the Queen!
Would you open this champagne and drink it or is it enough to simply own it?
