The best corkscrew I ever bought cost me 99¢. I got it at a wine store out in Santa Monica to open a bottle of rosé on the beach and drink it with a girl I'd met that afternoon. I've since carried the thing all over Europe with me. It's never let me down. It is simplicity definied. Two pieces of plastic and some metal.
The Rabbit, on the other hand, is the management consultant of wine openers. It's the prick who comes into your company to tell you that there is a "better" way to do what you're doing—and it means that in order to do the job you're doing, you now need (as the box tells you) "thirty-one metal and plastic parts...precision-assembled into a high-tech tool that's the ultimate cork-pulling machine." How about just saying that the Rabbit is the ultimate cock-pulling machine?
Just like management consultants, the Rabbit takes a process that is working simply and beautifully (and cheaply—did I mention 99¢?), makes it more complicated, and charges you $60—thereby increasing the price by 6,000 percent. The Rabbit is a corkscrew designed by military contractors. Why is it that for some reason I picture cratefuls of Rabbits being flown in on C-130's to the good ol' boys at Halliburton's Baghdad "reconstruction" offices? This is the kind of device that gives Rumsfeld and Cheney hard-ons.
And it is a device. It ain't a corkscrew. Half the time it looks like something Will Smith carried in Men in Black. The other half of the time, it looks like something that sits on a gleaming silver tray at a proctologist's office, something I don't want to touch. And certainly something I don't want to break out in front of a woman when I'm opening wine.
What's more, the Rabbit comes in a wasteful plastic case that is sealed, crime-scene-like, with tape that warns the user: "Before using...see instructions on bottom of case." An instruction manual for a corkscrew?
That's like instructions printed on the back of a box of pens. The Rabbit is everything that is wrong with this contry and its incessant need to supersize every last thing. It's all show and no go.
It's the SUV of wine openers—big and bloated and unmaneuverable. Wine is simple. Opening wine is even simpler. Guys, if you need a "machine" to help yourself enjoy one of life's great pleasures, then you need help in more than one way...
P.S. I have the same problem with this Rabbit too for making life more complicated than it needs to be.
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