My Fellow Inebriates,

Occasionally I get asked to weigh in on subjects like the Shroud of Turin, sustainable agriculture, NAFTA, Vatican II, etc., so when Emily of The Waiting mentioned colonoscopies, or rather, #colonoscopies, I promised I’d write about that topic next. You’d be amazed how many people are tweeting about this ass-invading medical procedure. Rectums are twitching, stomachs are growling, and people are talking about their conditions in succinct little <140-character offerings.

If you’ve been following, you know I don’t have a hole (at least not yet), so I haven’t had the pleasure of a colonoscopy, but my parents should be hitting the right age any day, if they haven’t already, at which time we’ll certainly post graphic, personal pictures, especially of my dad.

I had no idea preparing for a colonoscopy was as involved as it is. For three days you go on clear liquids, which I read as “gin.” One day before the procedure you flush everything out with laxatives and fluids, the goal being to “clear the colon of solid matter.”

Before the endoscope goes on its dark voyage and unless you live in a non-sedating country like Norway, you might score some fentanyl and laughing gas. Depending how anaesthetized you are, you might then watch the instrument toilet-snaking its way through your anus and on to even more exotic internal locales.

Wait, you say. How big is the endoscope? I’m not sure I wish to have any sizable instruments probing my ass.

By the looks of the scopes advertised on 1800ENDOSCOPE.com, which buys and sells endoscopes, they are pretty big-ass devices with an alarming length of tubing, a worrisome nozzle-like terminus, and of course a waterproof camera.

You wouldn’t want just anybody snapping on gloves, digitally probing your sphincter, then urging that thing through the rectum into your colon. You’d want somebody with medical talent, and you’d probably want them sober. You wouldn’t want them to have just finished a bottle of ARC DU RHONE (2010). Even the bottle says to “savour responsibly”—i.e., not right before performing a colonoscopy.

Vinified from Grenache Noir, Syrah, and Carignan Noir, ARC DU RHONE is unoaked and bursts with fresh berry aromas. Soft and luscious on the palate, this wine is a gorgeous, full-bodied exemplar of southern Rhone Valley wine. Weighty and boasting a substantial 14% alcohol, ARC DU RHONE promises and delivers ripe fruit, subtle black pepper, and smooth tannins. The finish is lingering and delightful.

Unfortunately, if you are booked for a colonoscopy within the next three days, you’ll have to pass this one up. Gloriously opaque, it would probably darken your colon and mess with that little camera’s imaging.

As for your talented medic, he/she could certainly enjoy ARC DU RHONE—just not before scrubbing in. It would make a good thank-you gift if the doc is gentle (and if not, keep it for yourself).

Best of all, this bottle is only $14.99, so you won’t feel like the liquor store is ass-raping you—just your doctor.

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