Don't tell anyone but I actually don't drink very much of anything, Merlot included. I like to appeal to people's stereotype of the "half sloshed manic-depressive poet who should probably be locked up in an asylum for his own good" as it helps me earn the big bucks that I do.
Indeed, I'm thinking of cutting off an ear like Van Gogh in the hope that some intrigued Whale will begin auto-upvoting my posts. Or, begin wearing a red velvet smoking jacket with silk pajama pants and slippers. One or the other.
Perfectly sane poets stand no chance whatsoever.
Quill
Do worry, I won't snitch, just remember me when done siphoning whales wallets.