For those of you sitting there with your eyes glazed over wondering what the hell the title means (assuming you aren’t Catholic and didn’t learn Latin under the rule of some crazed Nun cracking you across the knuckles with a ruler), In Vino Veritas means (paraphrased translation): “There is truth in wine.”
When you take a step back and look at the United States since World War II then the wine has done nothing but flow continuously and hubristically since we won that war.
Like a hardcore alcoholic its citizens can no longer distinguish fact from fantasy, right from wrong, democracy from fascism, morality from individual freedoms or defense from murder. Everything in our sight has become a blur because living as the dominant nation on Earth has given us the delusions of grandeur and like the Gods of mythology we sit on the throne of Olympus and drink ambrosia while passing judgments on all mortals in our purview.
This hubris isn’t confined to adults. No, they imbibe their ambrosia and declare from the pulpits of their churches, their living rooms and dining rooms during holidays their disgust for human beings who aren’t like they are and by doing so they pass this hate onto their children.
We see young children drinking this wine and passing the cup around to each other. They swear to each other that this is good wine because they heard it from their parents, grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousin, their minister or another friend.
That person heard it from their relative or from a minister or read it out of the Bible even though 1,000 people could read the same passage and interpret it 1,000 different ways, they swear it meant to hate Muslims, black people, Asians, Latinos or homosexuals.
That cup of wine is always filled with hate. We hate communists. We hate liberals. Like Randy Newman said in his song, Political Science, “Everyone hates us so let’s drop the big one and see what happens!”
When the children spill this wine all over the objects of this hate then they feel hated, outnumbered, alone and useless. A child lacks the life experience to deal with this unstoppable flow of metaphoric sour grapes.
Then one day their parents find them hanging by their neck in a tree in their backyard. Perhaps they left a note or a YouTube video showcasing their pain and shame and then again, maybe not.
The cadence marches on: In Vino Veritas.
I reply: Vinum mendacium!
That wine is a lie.
By Stephanie Donald
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