River Myst, bitches.

Ogdensburg, NY... A google image search yields the picture you see above. It's in far-Northern New York. It's about as far north as you can get without a passport by the time June 1st, 2009 comes around (so if you're 18 and you want to get hammered in Montreal, it's time to get your passport.) I'm 29 and I could drink in your mom's lap if I wanted to, so this news really means nothing to me.

Anyway, enough about complicated travel document requirements and passports to your mom. We're here to talk about wine, but first I'd like to offer a tad more information about the region.

Ogdensburg, NY is located halfway between "Honey, Are We Lost?" and "Holy Shit, I Just Saw a Six Year Old With A Rifle, NY." Until recently they were locally famous for having a sign by their dollar store that read "City of Ogdensburg," but as of 2007 they have a sign, a dollar store AND a winery. It's also the only place I've ever been where there is designated parking for Amish wagons at their Wal-Mart. So watch your step because there's a 30% chance of horse shit in the lingerie department.

So when my mother came down to DC to visit me earlier this month I was impressed - as always - by the generous gifts she brought. These included two six pound bags of cheese curd, two bags of pretzels, and a bottle of table wine from River Myst; the new local winery. My wife and I don't drink an awful lot of wine so it admittedly sat on the counter for awhile. When I look at that bottle and see "Ogdensburg" on it I really can't believe it didn't come in a can (or with a free puck of skoal), but I've been having enough trouble sleeping lately that I figured I'd give it a shot.

So here I am drinking this grape juice from River Myst and I'm writing about wine. I can't believe this shit isn't Welch's. It's sweeter than a chocolate-covered winning lottery ticket, but it has to have a higher alcohol content than an Amy Winehouse urine sample because my ass is suddenly kicked, and I'm a pretty big dude. I'm a pretty big dude who is about as much of an oenophile I am an olympic long jumper. I'm a pretty big dude who would rather have one Jreck Sub than a case of the world's best wine. Seriously, I'm a huge dude. Don't fuck with me.

But I can tell you that this wine is fairly refreshing, and like most other alcoholic beverages it makes you feel better about yourself. So if you're a woman, then drink this wine on your fat days. If you're a man, then drink this wine when your wife is having a fat day and into her sixth consecutive hour of "Jon & Kate Plus 8." If you're a parent, then give this stuff to your kids when they're going ape-shit. They'll ramp up hard, but they'll love the taste and then they'll hit the ground before you get back from the dollar store. And finally, if you're transgender, then drink this wine while watching "Jon & Kate Plus 8" on your fat days.

This winery is owned by a retired State Trooper, so it's cop wine. After having a couple glasses it's pretty clear that he'd rather you get hammered at home than be on his roads or his god-damned lawn. So here's to you, Officer LaMay. If it wasn't a federal offense to send alcohol to Maryland via USPS then I'd ask you to send me a case, but I'll probably never be in Ogdensburg again. I haven't been there in three years and I've still got horse shit on my tires, so I'll just say thanks for the juice.

*Editors note - this post is pending hang-over review.