Please Don’t Squeeze the Mormon

Stop Wining

I sort of drew the line at screw-off caps on wine bottles. Then UPC codes, instead of vintages. Lastly, wine in a box. I thought that was it.

Now, instead of stodgy French names like ?Chateau Pipi du Cheval,? you?re getting stuff like a red that probably goes best with tin cans, called, ?Goats do Roam? from South Africa and others that will never make you butcher the French language again.

The thing about wine, though, is it?s supposed to be pretentious. If you really wanted to be the everyman, you?d pound a Bud or take a pull from that malt liquor in the brown paper bag.

Even with a great label, wine like Red Truck probably belongs better in a radiator than a wine glass

My personal favorite is ?Fat Bastard? wine, which reminds me of Dennis Koslowski every time I hear it. And how fitting that it?s a French vintage. A close second is ?Tait Ball Buster? from Australia, which goes well with my wife.

Please Don?t Squeeze the Mormon

For years, Mormons have gotten up my butt the same way as Hair Club for Men advertisements and the pair of Tommy Hilfiger underwear that looks great, but rides up every time I shift around in my Herman Miller chair.

That was before the Federal Emergency Management Agency (our motto, ?doing more damage than natural disasters since 1803?) botched its handling of Hurricane Katrina. It?s safe to say Louisiana residents would have been better off in the hands of the Girl Scout?s Brownies than George Dubya?s ?Brownie.?

Then it occurred to me: Who does apocalypse better than the boys and girls over at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints? Heck, they?ve been readying themselves for the end of the world since founder Joseph Smith banged his head on a Fayette, New York outhouse toilet back in 1830 and saw God, who told him, ?drink Sprite, not Coke, oh, and the world?s going to come to an end in a blaze of fire and the heathen are all gonna dieeeeee.?

Laugh, but the Mormons sure know disaster-relief. Building massive grain silos and stocking up on bulk foods is as Mormon as singing annoying hymns in front of department stores and bonking 17 different women in the name of the Lord Almighty.

Sure, you?d have to listen to prosletyzing stuff about Jesus and flying saucers for a couple hours, but I sit through four-hour timeshare presentations just to get tickets to Disneyworld.

(Contributed by Adam Najberg)