In a recent tussle betwixt Jereme Dean, in which Reynard passive aggressively “bracket-belches” (i.e. [belch]) in response to the prospects of the former commenting more, Jereme, in his response to that, unfortunately misuses the apostrophe in “belch’s,” leading Reynard to say:

& an apostrophe does not denote the plural

Sommelier Says: It’s wonderful how the ampersand resembles, and operates as, the treble clef — cuing the melodic brassy notes to come. (One imagines a rusty trombone.) Seifert’s eloquent bouquet of alliterated “o”s in “does not denote” opens an olfactory opulence for, oh, I don’t know. The quick jab at someone’s grammar to demonstrate one’s superior education and/or anal retentiveness has prominent notes of douchebag and raspberry. Such syntactical severity gets better with age, so just keep him in a dark cellar for five years, and those who believe “nutty flavors” involve teabags will wish to try it out on Mr. Seifert the next time he opens his mouth.

In a recent comment thread about anonymous comments, one “Dan” (his quotes) says, of HTMLGIANT:

Every one on this websites is assholes and gives Tao Lin handjobs and is “rich middle class kids” and doesnt now shit about good writing if it punched them.111 you guys also are incestuous and publish only your friends’ writing regardless of merit 11111!!11

Sommelier Says: We suspect either English is not Dan’s first language, or he was on the receiving end of some type of job while composing this comment. Coming off strong with “assholes,” one is reminded of the straight-forward Cabernet; soon he offers supple textures with a descriptive narrative of manual relief, followed by a cultural indictment of an abstract group of people (never mind the “rich middle-class” oxymoron). At first, I thought Dan meant that “a hundred and eleven” of us were incestuous (pretty ample gene pool, what you talking about?) but realized the “111” were simply rushed exclamation points sans the shift key — must be his quivering colon. Dan’s post-laxative rant reeks of prune juice as he makes a mad rush to the toilet. And you thought purple rain was an album.

There’s so much good whine out there that HTMLGIANT has instituted “Sommelier Says,” in which an indignant comment — either here or in our lit-blog vicinity — is studied for its complexities and rich character by this humble Sommelier. Today, we bring you Jereme Dean’s recent comment to P.H. Madore:

stop looking for kudos and emotional hand jobs and go your own way

Sommelier Says: Jereme Dean’s full-bodied redolence is rather pervasive. Just ask anyone who shares the bus with him on his “three hour commute.” A fan of Bukowski and Asian philosophy, his comments consist of grim verity, with hints of aging self-effaced misogyny and underlying currents of abnegation. His spicy black currant tongue, when not intra-labia, peppers this website with astounding truth. Never the diplomat, always the provocateur, his finish is very dry, with deep tannins which evoke the thickest of skins. This whine pairs perfectly with pudding.