Deacon Dr. Fresh Wine Newsletter

A Wine Newsletter With An Edge - Definitely NOT your typical white bread, mofo, cracker, peckerwood, jank, peckercracker wine newsletter! If this info is too advanced for you, check out my other newsletter: Wine for Dix at

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Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada

World's Lurchest Wine Writer - The Gangsta of the Grape - The Sultan of Shiraz - The Buccaneer of Burgundy - The Prince of Pinot Noir - Yellow Tail's Bane - Locus of the Ladies' Focus - Wielder of the trousered Hammer of Thor - I have arrived to rescue the wine world from overly-serious, rigid, deconstructionist, rooster juice peckerwoods who'd never dream of gettin' a tattoo or crackin' a smile. I am without a doubt, the smartest, funniest and toughest sumbitch in the entire wine industry. And I aint goin' away. All disputes will be settled bare-knuckled in the Octagon. You heard me. Oh, and by the way...Bite me crank!

Saturday, December 30, 2006

Happy New Year from The Deacon!!!

Pontifical Greetings on the approaching and encroaching Eve of 2007! I invoke the spirit of Henry Morgan and by the cutlass of Blackbeard and in the blood-spattered name of Calico Jack, I greet you!

To my fanz and adoring minions, I assure you of my warm regard, gentle menace and continued presence in your electronic midst, and I swear by the towering granite of Gormenghast to be your Captain Courageous , your Master at Arms and North Star Navigator through the cruel unseen reefs and rogue waves of January and beyond!

To my loyal Pirate Crue, the Legion of Lurch, we shall rendezvous this eve at the appointed watering hole to imbibe grog and feast on rich meats, and then sally forth to the UFC event, as we board the Black Freighter and sail Beachward to the port of Cookestown.

And to all the rest of you scurvy, shilly-shallying, passive-aggressive, astrolabe wielding, plank-walking, groat clusters:

Bite me crank!

Happy New Year

Deacon Dr. Fresh

Sailing under a Black Flag

Friday, December 01, 2006

The Deacon Rap!

Yo Yo Yo
Check it out... Check it out...

I be rappin' for y'all!

Now pay attenshun!

You got the Deacon on the line an' I'm rappin' 'bout wine
exposin' all the mofos and the crackerpeckerdines
I'm gonna teach ya 'bout the grapes and learn ya how to fight
'Cause your Deacon's got an IQ that is really outa site!
I'm hangin' out with Billy and Zoltan and the Best
This gangsta's stratospheric - 8 miles above the rest!
All you jealous mutherjumpers just sit there and complain
that all my rich-ramblin's are simply insane
Cause you're living in the Beaches, (or is it Beach this week?)
Your kids are all on Ritalin; can barely even speak
So you hang with other mofos, your noses in the air
You're so damn hoity-toity; but I find it hard to care

Cause I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...

I'm the Gangsta of the Grape, the Sultan of Shiraz
so you can take that Merlot and shove it up your
Assk anybody what they think about the Deacon
They're gonna say they luv me, or perhaps they're just freakin'
on a hit of brown acid from 1969
Don't ever drop that crap (there ain't no flashbacks in wine)
I'm Homeland Security, I don't need no NATO
Got the Hammer of Thor and it's a Sweet Potato

I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...

So I'm sittin' here in Scarlem and I'm sippin' Chablis
just tappin' on my keyboard so you can be like me
Neck-crankin' all the peckerwoods and hangin' with my homeys
Give me Liberty or give me Death but you can keep the phonies!
I'm here to raise Ontario, I love the VQA!
So throw out all your Yellowtail - I ain't afraid to say
that I'm crankin' AC/DC and listenin' to Bon
and if you got a problem, meet me in The Octagon!
I'm underneath a Black Flag and sailin' through the night
I'm knockin' back the Baco and I'm spoilin' for a fight
I'm the Lurchest of the Lurch - expoundin' all that's Real
and to all you monkeypeckers here's a personal appeal:
Remember that your life is short, it's gone before you know it
Y'only get one hand to play, make sure that you don't blow it
'Cause things are far too serious, that's why I'm here to rap
if you think of nothin' but your job, you've fallen for the crap
You're a product of the Media and all their filthy lies
It's time to wake up from your trance and open up your eyes...
'Cause this is Truth I'm givin' you, so take it to the bank
If you don't wanna hear it, then you can bite me crank!

I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...(He's the Deacon)
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...(He's the Deacon)
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...(Yes he is...)
I'm the Deacon Dr. Fresh...(He's the Deacon)

You heard me.

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