This post is categorized as humor because of the strange way that I reacted to the delivery of a package. Perhaps some veterans might guffaw at my silliness. I’m happy to provide the opportunity.
A very nice, polite, super-smiling man with a heavy accent from – best guess – Pakistan, not in a uniform, just in a personal car with no company markings, hand delivered a cardboard box which had no indication of provenance, no sender, nothing to indicate that it had gone through any kind of systematized delivery service. There were no stickers about any company delivering the package (such as one would expect from DHL, FedEx, UPS or the USPS). Just my name and address hand written on a piece of paper taped to the top of the box. He had banged on my front door not seeing the sign which politely requests that packages be left in the car port. Maybe he had to actually put it in my hands. After I went back to the rectory he stayed out in the street for a minute. My thought then was not a good one. Just a little suspicious, this package. You can call me bad and evil, but policies only work if you follow them every time. This is the scene from Zero Dark Thirty that came to mind.
That, of course, is quite a confession, and might tell you how I carry some things with me, deep down inside. It is what it is. Anyway, rebelling against myself, I made brave to open the package. It turned out to be from overseas. Even more mysterious as to how it could be delivered in such fashion.
But I then I recognized who the contents were from as there was a card and a letter and a donkey cartoon. It’s from an old friend. All good. Thanks. But still, the logistics of delivery…
As soon as I saw the bottle I thought of the saying of the monks: Stat crux dum volvitur orbis. “The Cross stands steadfast while the world spins away.” I think I wrote something about that:
It’s only fair to offer a few notes for anyone who is tempted to send me alcohol:
- I appreciate the thought. Really, I do. But don’t do it. Hard liquor and Keto diet don’t go together. It’s true that there are no carbs, but there are also no grams of protein or fat, just heaps of empty calories.
- Hard liquor is deadly to me, as this destroys my throat. No, really. It’s risking suicide. Like Bill Binney said, “The first thing you have to know about me is that I would never intentionally commit suicide.” So, I’ll pass. Thanks, though.
- Liquor is hard on the liver. I already put my liver through hell with medicine I’ve been taking for some 40 years when the absolute max is 5 months because of the way it wrecks havoc on the liver. So, liquor doesn’t work for me. No, really.
- Also, I actually carry my carry. And because of that, all alcohol is off limits. Guns and hard liquor don’t go together. I’m at least as much of a tea-totaller as the local baptists. I’ve already heard that I preach like a Baptist minister, so, hey, why not?
- So, I’m going to have to give this away. Sorry. But thank you for the thought.
Anyway, I’m looking at the bottle. What’s that hole under the label?
Looking through the front of the bottle:
When I saw that – given also the weird delivery circumstances – I thought I might just make a call to the guy in charge of Chartreuse at the distributors in New York. He wanted the pictures, so I sent them to him. He had never seen anything like it. He’s going to contact les pères Chartreux just for fun, to see if they have a new manufacturing process. I looked up the use of tracking chips which prove provenance to reduce fraud for the customer who can use an app to see if the bottle is legit. That’s quite common for more expensive bottles, but all those chips are part of the exterior label, a wax seal, or are inside the cork. I scraped off the back label against my better judgment. I’m guessing that it’s just a manufacturing oddity. Anyway, I won’t be drinking it, but not because of… whatever…