It had been ages since these religious leaders got together, and, in unrehearsed unison they all looked at each other and exclaimed, “You look like I need a drink!” And then each one proceeded to order their own bottle of wine.

The rabbi spoke first, “You know, wine improves with age—the older I get, the better I like it.” “You’re right!” said the priest, “Wine does improve with age and I surely improve with wine.”
The minister sat and lovingly gazed at his un-corked bottle of wine and then said, “The secret of enjoying a good wine is to first open the bottle to allow it to breathe, and then, if it doesn’t look like it’s breathing, give it mouth to mouth.”
Agreeing with the logic, each one then practiced on their own bottle to the consternation of the irritable bartender who told them, “Hey—knock that off! This is a respectable winebar!”
“If it’s so respectable, why are you selling wines with names like, Fat Bastard, Bitch, Frog’s Piss, Cat Pee on a Gooseberry Bush, and finally Vin de Merde, or Wine of Shite as they say in Ireland.”
The bartender, with a sheepish grin, reluctantly responds, “These are wines from France, New Zealand, Australia and Canada—my winebar is going international!”
The priest then talked about his family, “My sister-in-law and my brother were sitting drinking wine on the patio. She says, “I love you so much—I dunno how I could ever live without you.” My brother says to her, “is that you or the wine talking?” She replies, “It’s me . . . talking to the wine.”
“My sister-in-law was so happy that my brother stopped drinking wine, now the whole bottle is hers.” The priest kept going, “You know last night, I tried to login on my IPad. Turns out it was an Etch-a-Sketch and I don’t own an IPad. Also I ran out of wine.”
The rabbi then chimed in about his sore back. “Oy Vey—I’ve been sleeping on the couch. The other day, my wife had the nerve to say, ‘Men are like fine wine, they all start out like grapes and it’s our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you’d like to have dinner with.’
“And after a couple of bottles of wine in my stomach, I offered, ‘Women are also like fine wine. They all start out fresh, fruity and intoxicating to the mind and then turn full-bodied with age until they go all sour and give you a headache.”


The minister wouldn’t be topped. “My sister-in-law walked into the kitchen to find my brother drinking wine and stalking around with a flyswatter. ‘What are you doing?” she asked. “Hunting flies!” he responded. “Oh—killing any?” she asks sarcastically. “Yep, 3 males and 2 females” he replied. Intrigued, she asked, ‘How in hell can you tell them apart!’ He responded, ‘3 were on the beer can, 2 were on the phone.’ ”
“And guys—I’ve a confession to make,” continues the minister. “I was driving home from a wine tasting late last night when I was stopped for speeding. The Highway Patrolman then smelled alcohol on my breath and then he saw an empty wine bottle on the floor. He says, ‘Sir, have you been drinking?’ And I said, ‘Just water’. The patrolman says, ‘Then why do I smell wine?’ I then looked down at the bottle and say, ‘Good Lord! He’s done it again!’ When the cop found out I was a minister, he gave me the benefit of the doubt and just issued me a warning.”
The priest smiled and said, “My day consisted of sampling wine to my heart’s content, followed by drinking wine to my heart’s content, what did you do today rabbi?”
“Oh—I spent a lot of time with my congregants. I have a good open door policy with them. I tell them, ‘Show up with wine and I’ll open the door.’
The priest acknowledges, “You know I’d stop drinking so much wine, but I’m no quitter!”
The minister, too, admits, “I have enjoyed great health at a great age because everyday since I can remember I have consumed a bottle of wine except when I have not felt well. Then I have consumed two bottles.” He then went off point, stating, “Appreciating old wine is like making love to a very old lady. It is possible. It can even be enjoyable. But it requires a bit of imagination.
By the end of the night, guys found the new wine they were drinking to be quite good. “Hey bartender, what region is this wine from?” The smart-aleck bartender replied, It’s from the southernmost tip of my wine cooler.
The men admitted to differing religious views but all agreed wine makes every meal an occasion, every table more elegant, and every day more civilized. When asked the rhetorical question, “And what is a meal without wine?” “Well—we’d all call that breakfast.”
Rick conducts wine tastings and admits that this week’s Vino Voice was kinda corny. But after a few glasses of wine, it’s less so. Contact

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