the problem of vile

We had some vile wine the other night,
and we had to get all the clarity from

ourselves.

That wine didn't help. But I kept
talking about its characteristics,
and you kept drinking it, I think

just to keep up, and object, and
rebut? Or not. Maybe

you were just being sociable, or
were trying to acquire a very bad
taste. Either way, the conversation ranged

from evil results, to their origins
and back from there to embrace their possible
good consequence? A thing in which you know

I place no stock.

We wondered if grapes had grown vile
from vile vines, in a vile terroir, or

if deformative influence was exercised
by a vile winemaker, vile vintner
- vile oenologist? What do you call
that guy?

"OR GIRL!"

- a correction to which I gladly agreed
in this case ("HEY!"), in my vile way,
which you excused to the influence of drink
- a thing in which you know I place no stock,
and proved it by shutting up on the point.

It's the exception that proves unruly,
sometimes. We decided the vileness

of this wine

was a mixture of factors, tag-team quoting Miles
from the Frass Canyon scene in Sideways
and left it at that, to recharge ours and each other's
glasses sadomasochistically with more than full
restaurant pours.

From there, we proceeded all lofty and snoot

to the roots of one of the most cosmic,
foundational, problems with reality
that a lot of people have:

The Problem of Vile.

Why, we decided, would an all-good and perfect
God, accepted for the sake of fighting the hypothetical,
allow such vile wine to be in a universe? Especially
ours.

We each took
a long slow draw
from respective glass,
eyes locked in squint and grimace as if
challenging,
as if challenged,
by the fact itself: yes,

vile exists.

And free will is no out! We were forced
to agree. Not for God! Not for this, we
mused. No excuse, why
even if God were a free-will freak,
a super-enthusiast for the stuff, and felt
compelled by duty and sporting interest to allow

vile wineries

to produce and sell such and as much vile wine
as they could, still!

Why wouldn't God start a winery Godself?
Making wines that were infinitely good?
Let the marketplace duke it out. Let the people
choose. There's your free will! The Invisible
Hand, as it were, that moves
each and all to their own

good and betterment! The argument

broke down from there,

amidst wreckage of points, very yet
to be made and potential objections thrown out

of gear,

by the fact that we saw

the wine was gone.

A miracle!

No, it was not quite that. We are confident science
will find a way to explain disappearances of this kind.

We deal in facts. It remains:

the wine is gone.

It was not for this world. No one
could drink it, or miss it, if drunk.

It will live in vile memory, growing and long.

You and I will agree to admit it was wrong.