Apotheosis Now!

The first three Parts (One, Two, & Three) of this precis of a life transformed by wine, centering on the highly fictionalized "I" of self-regarding and perjuring autobiographical convention, dealt with "my" early conversion to pagan Italy, "my" ruinous fat-cat success as an importer and "my" quest to retrieve oenic authenticity and achieve ultimate felicity. 

Wait -- I have to stop a moment and admire the polysyllabic succinctness of this one-sentence summary. 

OK.  Go:

In the fourth and final Part, "I" find the meaning, the joy and the peace "I" had always sought.  With loose ends for a big-budget sequel.

PART 4: I FIND IT

Apotheosis arrives in unexpected ways.  Did Moses expect a talking bush that burned and yet was not consumed?  Did I expect a phone call from the Food Network?

I am asleep on a plastic chaise longue in a vineyardist's tool shed when my cell phone rings.  I am dressed in a threadbare antique Sulka silk robe that Prince Matchabelli accidently gave me when he threw me out of the villa.  Though the sun has long passed its zenith I wake with a start when I hear a chirpy young American voice inform me, "Ummm, hi.  Mr. Strappo?  This is Kira from the Food Network?  Dolly Smart, the director of program development and product placement, she would like to speak with you?"

I am summoned from my filthy hovel in Calabria to New York.  A free ticket though it's in coach. 

I meet Dolly.  I meet the iron chefs.  I meet Rachael Ray.  Dolly squints at me through her cigarillo smoke and says, "We won't have any Jeff Smith problems with you, will we?" 

"Hasn't being around Alton Brown taught you anything?  We aren't pedophiles!"

"Then we have just the concept for you. Perfect for your personality.  And for your still moderately though dimmingly brightly shining star in the wine firmament."  All the adverbs have me flustered.  Then I realize I'm in. 

And the show is perfect for me.   It's called "En Garde!" and I moderate a panel of shouting partisans of the two main wine parties, the fruit-bomb hedonists and the priscilla purity terroirists.  It's such fun.  I get to be a wise-ass.  I ridicule both camps.  When I mention the sponsors I make faces and hilarious asides.  When we do a tasting panel segment I scream and yell and throw glasses of wine at panelists.  When I go on talk shows, all I have to do is drop the name of one sponsor and I don't have to be nice about them.  My sarcastic mug is on buses and billboards all over Manhattan.  I buy a duplex penthouse on Fifth Avenue overlooking the park.  I have a line of wines claiming to be Chianti, Brunello, Barolo, and so forth, but it's all from South America.  I laugh all the way to the bank.  I buy my own damned villa in Tuscany. 

Rachael Ray is crazy about me and features me on her show.  I refer to her in the warmest terms all over the place, even when I don't have to.

Apotheoses are a lot like a box of chocolates.  They get stale but you eat them all anyway.  And want another box.

Comments

[Doug Cook]

bravo!

[Strappo]

thank you, doug.

i am imagining a book out of this, one with gigantic ad headlines in all the major dailies, of which i think we now have 4 nationally, blaring MORE HILARIOUS THAN DAVID SEDARIS.

but hell, so's koeppel for chrissakes.

[Rachel Black]

Stunning account of apotheosis italiano. I only worry that you lose your roots a little in the end. Perhaps a sequel is in order, non? Bravino.

[fredric koeppel]

aw, gee!

next stop for you ... sitting on the divan next to Oprah, while she questions you about the "authenticity" of your "memoirs."

[Strappo]

i'll counter aggressively, asking about her relationship with gail king.

[Strappo]

Rachel, losing roots?! This is America. We love losing our roots. I did!

Anyway, every American apotheosis entails selling out. That 6000 square foot house in a gated community, right on the fairway. I know it's MY dream.

[barner]

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[adriel]

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