...as they sit down, the bartender turns away from the Panthers/Lions game on the HDTV and says, “what can I get you fellas?”

The Oenologist (wine expert) says, “Do you have anything from the Loire Valley?”

“Nope, but I do have this really nice chardonnay with a Kangaroo on the label.”

“Looks good to me,” says the Zoologist, “but to be precise, that particular marsupial is a Yellow Footed Rock Wallaby.”

“Yes,” says the Anthropologist, “and I like the design. Very much in the style of native Aboriginal folk art.”

“I tell you,” says the bartender, “I learn something new in this job every day. So what do you say, three Yellow Footed Wallabys?”

The Oenologist gives in but disdainfully turns to his friends. “Just what may I ask does that creature on the label tell you about the wine?”

The Anthropologist replies: “I find the Aboriginal design to be amusing and irreverent - like the Australians - people who like their drink and know how to have a good time. What more can you ask from a glass of wine?”

“One might want to know,” the Oenologist asserts, “ The latitude of the vineyard,the composition of the soil. But I will concede it is a pleasant every day chardonnay, I'm sure it pleases the hoi polloi.”

“Out sells everything else five to one. Why don't you try the Shiraz? People say it goes great with steak. On the house. Can't wait to tell my regulars what you experts have to say.”

The Oenologist swirls the wine in the glass and sniffs it. “A plebeian red with a distinct note of grape Gatorade.”

“Named for a football team. The Florida Gators,” says the Anthropologist. “Not to mention one hell of a good tennis shirt.”

The Oenologist has reached the limit of his patience. “This is bar talk for dummies. Merchandising for morons. Crocodiles on shirts, Swooshes on running shoes, people wearing shirts with the word “Hilfigger” spelled out across their chests in letters 4 inches high. Don't you see the difference? Wines are subtle and complex, sensual products. The making and appreciation of wine is an art unto itself.”

“Well there's you're problem,” says the Anthropologist. “Do you see that leggy woman at that table holding a Prada bag? Do you fellows have any idea how much those handbags cost?”

“A fortune I'd guess,” says the Zoologist. “Those shoes she is wearing, and I know this from watching “Sex and the City,” are Manolo Blahnaks. Very expensive according to Carrie and Amanda.”

The Oenologist indignantly interjects. “Probably more than a case of Chateau La Tour.”

“My point exactly,” says the Anthropologist. “Do those who can afford Prada Bags, Chanel Perfumes or a Bentley Continental coupe feel the need to know or discuss how the Prada leathers were tanned or the latitude of the factory in which the Bentley was produced?”

“Oh, hell,” says the Oenologist loosening his tie, “I'll have another Shiraz. But mark my words, this animal thing on labels is just another fad.” He takes a large gulp of wine and looks up at the screen.

“By the way bartender, do you happen to know the score in the game?”

“Twenty-one to seven, Panthers. They're slaughtering the Lions.”

Next

A Zoologist, Anthropologist and Oenologist Walk into a Bar