A Visit From Nostrasmartass

While cleaning out my undie drawer this morning I came across this brittle and somewhat crunchy scroll. The handwriting I recognized, the mastery with which it was written familiar, the power and fierceness of opinion nearly palpable....I knew it was something that needed to be shared, a forecast from Our Beloved HoseMaster of Wine of what lies ahead for 2011. I knew it was my duty to share them with you all...oh and Mr. Washam, no need to slink around my pantie drawer, email works fine. Don't even want to begin to imagine why this thing is so crunchy.....


The beginning of the year brings out the prognosticator in all of us, and since I’m over 50 I had to have my prognostate checked. Everything came out fine, if slightly sulfurous around the fingernails. I have an amazing ability to predict the future of the wine business. Most of you will remember that for 2010 I predicted that HoseMaster of Wine would fold. And that Bret Favre would retire. And that Constellation would sell off its Australian wine portfolio because they found out there aren’t any Mexicans in Australia. So as you read my predictions for 2011 keep my uncanny accuracy in mind. Now, if only my prognostate exam had been un-canny.


President Obama will serve a screwtop in the White House—Speaker of the House Boehner.




Our quaint little print wine publications will start to slowly disband or merge. It will be revealed that Stephen Tanzer is actually Allen Meadows the Burghound, who, in turn, is actually a pseudonym for Stephen Hawking who tastes every wine submitted via an enema. The hard part is spitting. Ironic, considering his name. Robert Parker finally admits that he’s dead and points to hiring Mark Squires as proof of an EEG flatter than sales of Syrah. Connoisseurs’ Guide, Wine and Spirits, and Wine Enthusiast merge to form “Connoisseurs’ Guide to Enthusiastic Spirits.” Richard Simmons gets Three Poofs. Wine Spectator is sold to Riedel which then breaks it up into 29 different publications, each dedicated to only one variety. Riedel argues that the size of the print and the quality of the paper determine how much sense the ratings make. Consumers fall for their bullshit again. Mutineer Magazine turns out to be an elaborate hoax perpetrated by Mormons seeking to turn people off to all forms of alcohol and writers with talent.




DNA evidence will show that Gruner Veltliner is a cross between Riesling and a durian.

An article in the “Journal of Psychiatry” will use wine blogs as a resource for studying megalomania. “Wine bloggers,” the authors say, “ exhibit the classic signs of megalomania—an unshakable belief in their importance mixed with the conviction that they and their opinions are special and powerful despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” The only cure, the authors conclude, is to be “…forced to read their own works aloud.” Except for the HoseMaster, who should be “lobotomized. Again.”



Pinot Noir’s popularity will begin to wane in the wake of the discovery that many of the most popular brands were made from expired cans of Cherry Coke. This is discovered by a Denny’s waitress at a blind tasting of Marcassin Pinot Noir. Helen Turley appears in a Super Bowl ad for Pepsi. Grenache replaces Pinot Noir as the red wine of choice for sissies, and everyone proclaims New Zealand the best place in the world to grow it even though no one believes it to be true. Constellation buys every New Zealand winery.