Gin before Noon

Forty thousand-some Tweets in, I still misunderestimate how easy it is to be misconstrued in 140 characters, especially when I refuse to dignify a garbage story with a link in this grand age of trolling for clickbait. The other Saturday I noted that a certain columnist had built an entire column out of wine gouging in a certain restaurant without noting that the most prominent review of said restaurant had taken points off for exactly that greedy practice. Not only that, she threw in a gratuitous insult to restaurant reviewers: They don’t understand wine and its rarefied world. The pushback was fascinating: Quote marks be damned, I was doing the insulting. If I were dead today, my head would be exploding at my desk.