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!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Who is John Galt?

This just in:

The World's gone mad.

And now back to our regularly scheduled SOMA broadcast...

Greetings crop circle enthusiasts, survivalists, and watchers of Sirius everywhere!

And a wide variety of clever and brilliantly cutting comments to the rest of you I-Phone worshiping DIX!

Has anyone else had that nasty cough with body ache and skin soreness, or is it just me? I'd like to hear from our shut-ins, especially all of you still recovering from the latest round of completely natural virus infections that aren't intentionally spread, and weren't manufactured in germ warfare labs at all.

So...last week I was invited to attend an industry professionals only wine tasting, put on by Jason Woodman of Woodman Wines and Spirits Inc. Now what made this particularly interesting, was the location of the event, namely the Spoke Club, at 600 King Street West. The Spoke Club is cloaked in mystery, and you've pretty well have to be royalty to even get a peek in the window, which is difficult if you can't fly, since it's on the 4th floor of the building.

I didn't want to be a keener, so I arrived an hour after start time, and parked a few blocks away. The front door was unremarkable, but equipped with an electronic finger-print pad that opened a small, triangular, sliding panel, revealing a retina scan. I placed my left eye against the aperture and found myself staring at a vintage Lotus Seven S II in an underground garage. I knocked shave and a haircut, and a computerized voice yelled "Passwords?" I shouted "Calling Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, Dr. Howard" and the door slid open, and I climbed into the Lotus and drove up a long steep ramp. After about 40 seconds, I emerged in the City of Westminster, London. I had nothing else to do, so I drove down another ramp and walked a long dark hallway, arriving at a room with maps and a moron behind a desk who kept asking me why I resigned, until I punched him in the face, putting an end to that foolishness. Then I drove to an apartment and decided to pack some stuff and fly to the Costa Brava, but a hearse arrived and a tall cracker in a top hat injected sleeping gas in the keyhole and I passed out. I awoke, slumped on a couch, with Michael "The Glans" Pinkus standing over me, laughing. "Welcome to the Spoke Club! That's some security system, eh?" he asked, grinning, and handing me a tumbler full of 1995 Champagne Henriot Cuvee des Enchanteleurs, which despite its $195.00 pricetag, seemed like a real deal. I had a headache from the sleeping gas, and rubbed my neck as I scoped the room. The ceiling was nearly 70 feet high, and festooned with Caravaggios and Tintorettos, which are "pitchers" to those of you in Keswick. There were about 20 other winos presents, and a couple of other people whom I recognized, including Ken Lay, Sirhan Sirhan, and Dean Tudor, who had somehow contrived to wind up behind the bar. I sidled up to the organizer, Jason Woodman, who was a really lurch dude and both friendly and knowledgable. I wanted him to know that unlike the other attendees, I actually "got" the event. I wolfed down a plate of roast quail, truffles, cheese and bread and guzzled a few glasses of 2005 First Drop Shiraz, Barossa, which was a mistake, because Pinkus and Tudor both told me it was only 2% alcohol, which was clearly a lie. It was actually 2% Albarino, which gives the Shiraz more kreft and zale. I liked it a lot, and it will be 33 bucks at Vintages on April 11th. (#107599).

After a couple more plates of free food, I began to look around a bit. There's a good sized bar in the centre of the room, and a circular flight of stairs leading up into the distance, past rows of priceless leather-bound books. You gotta hand it to Galen Weston, the Loblaws Czar, who's the wunderkind behind the Spoke Club. The Deaconess has taken tons of Loblaws cooking classes, and they really do a great job. Walmart can officially bite my wand forever.

After a while at the food table, I heard a commotion, and assumed Pinkus had splashed wine on one of the 16 first edition Gutenberg Bibles and Ann Rice books, but it wasn't his doing. A wine writer named Barbara Ritchie, suddenly leapt back from the table with a scream, and we all thought she was having a stroke. It turns out that her cellphone had just gone off in her front pants pocket. Pinkus said it must have been on vibrate. I said that based on her reaction, it was probably set on TASER!

I hung out for awhile with Graham Duncan (no relation to the badminton star), from Drinksville Media. Their tagline is All the Booze that's Fit to Drink. The vibe was good, and although there were some wines I liked more than others, the good ones were really good! One I especially liked was the sole Iberian offering: 2007 Palacios Remondo La Vendimia, Rioja. It's also at Vintages (#674564) or at least will be on March 28th. For only 16 bucks, I found it really interesting.

I hung out with Billy Munnelly for a bit, and then climbed the ladder to the upper eschelons, but wasn't allowed in where Bill Gates and Bono were playing Texas Hold-em against Prince Charles and Dick Cheney. I was shoed out by a couple of guys from Blackwater, and decended the stairs at terminal velocity to the main floor, where I said my goodbyes to Billy and the others. At the exit, I was handed my car keys and given a whiff of sleeping gas. I woke up on the Eastbound Gardiner Expressway, stuck in traffic. I'm still there.

Thanks to Jason Woodman for the invite! It's great to be back in the loop...

Deacon Dr. Fresh
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