As usual, leave it to a VA rainmaker like LawBob Squarepants to come up with a good joke. He has been noticeably remiss in Veterans humor and consumed by Keith Robert’s protracted miscarriage of justice. Fortunately for us all, he has reverted back to form and graced us with suitable humor befitting our blog. 

Following the untimely death of their resident sommalier, a large California Wholesale vintner began a search for a new one with suitable credentials. They advertised  widely in all the major trade publications.

A bedraggled homeless Veteran drunkard with an unkempt, dirty look arrived to apply for the position a short while later.

The Human Resources director wondered how to politely send him away without hurting his feelings.

They poured him a glass to drink in the hopes that he would quickly prove himself ineligible.

“A Muscat , three years old, grown on a sunny north slope, matured in steel containers. Low grade but marketable to the uneducated.”

“Obviously you have an affinity for this”, said the boss. “Let’s try another vintage.”

Another glass….

“Cabernet, eight years old, a south-western slope, oak barrels, matured at 8 degrees. Requires three more years for finest results. Good color and fingers. It’ll last for a decade before it fades.”

“Outstanding. Where did you get your sommalier credentials? Let’s try another.”

A third glass…

”It’s a pinot blanc champagne. Epernay…high grade and exclusive. Not quite a Dom but higher than a Perrier Jouet Premiere Crux. Perhaps a private estate but nevertheless a 2007 vintage.  Definitely the north bank of the Rivière Marne. You’d better check the corks on those. I doubt they’ll hold for more than another six years.” said the drunk calmly as he took another sip.

The director was speechless.

He winked at his secretary and pointed at his crotch.

She left the room, and came back in with a brimming glass of urine.

The alcoholic tried it.

“It’s a blonde, 26 years old, three months pregnant and if you don’t give me the job, I’ll tell her husband the name of the father.”

The teaching moment needs no explanation. That’s why they call us Veterans. Disabled physically perhaps- but never mentally.