Give me women, wine, and snuff. Further research into why wine goes bad. New fungi examined; fluorescence; histamines. Components of corked wine, their life histories, turn-ons and -offs, Wagnerian impulses of, &c.

Cork is a stupid sort of stopper, fit only for use in Portugal, and even there not on the good stuff. Screwtops must overcome prejudice and rise as the superior choice. Give way! How many eyes are senselessly lost, how many ears pierced each hour in corkscrew accidents. It is the silent genocide of our time. I myself managed to embed the blade on my winekey rather deeply into the flesh between thumb and forefinger the first time I opened a bottle at a table.

"There seems to be something wrong with this cork," I said, trying to bleed discreetly behind my back. "I'll be right back." I ran to the service bar, where another waiter laughed callously at me, threw bar sanitizer on the wound, and sent me back out on the floor.

"The bartender took care of it," I told the table in a voice rather higher than usual. "Here you are!"

So one can see the perils of cork. I have not even mentioned the heartbreak of mistaking musty flatulence for terroir.