traditions

What a merry Xmas! It's my personal tradition that every December 25th I pop a bottle of cheap champagne and imbibe before sunrise as I contemplate the end of the giant consumer season and the birthday of the celebrated carpenter/philosopher known as Jesus.
This fluid didn't come from the Mumm cellars in Rheims or from Dom Perignon's monestary. It came from the J. Roget Champagne Cellars of Canandaigua, NY and cost about 4 bucks a pop. Yeah, baby! That's what I call cheap champagne. Fortunately, I know how to handle bruts such as this. A sugar cube at the bottom of a flute glass with a dash of bitters makes the most vile bubbly a tasty, mind-numbing experience. As I sat in my easy chair with crystal vessel in hand, watching the bubbles drift upward in my champagne cocktail, I realized the significance of it all.
Making a champagne cocktail out of cheap champagne is like taking a bum, bathing him and dressing him in your dad's new suit. He may look like your dad but he's still just a sweet-smelling bum. But... If the clothes make the man then adulteration makes the drink. It's not Crystal, but if I could afford such luxury I wouldn't be drinking J. Roget champagne cocktails.
Of course, man cannot live by champagne cocktails alone. Soft-boiled eggs followed by biscuits and gravy and another bottle served as the morning feast even a Methodist could love. Dinner consisted of crab legs, drawn butter, biscuits and the last of the champagne. Pighin Pinot Grigio, and Cavit Pinot Noir were drained next and my living quarters were littered with dead soldiers.
The messiah's birthday and dead soldiers as far as the eye can see. I guess there IS balance in the universe.
I'm so glad the age of Pisces is over.