I have to agree with J.D. Rhoades that the idea of a bottle of tequila that sells for over two grand is pretty astonishing. I mean . . . tequila? Cactus juice? Grapes, okay, maybe. Grapes are friendly. They practically ask to be squished and bottled and allowed to ferment in a dark place. There’s nothing friendly about a cactus. Cacti mean to do you harm. They practically say: Yeah, fool, c’mon and try to squish me, see what happens. You wanna take off your shoes and stomp on a big vat full of cacti, go ahead, be my guest.
In point of fact, much as I love my red vino, I’d be afraid to drink a two-grand bottle of wine. I can’t imagine what would be there in the flavor and bouquet that could justify the premium price, but if I found out, I’d be stuck with a jones for something that costs the equivalent of a monthly mortgage payment to enjoy. At present, my vices have a pretty manageable price tag. Unless the publishing industry loosens up, and unless Oprah comes calling, they’d better stay that way.