My dad was a bit of a wine aficionado. Back in the `80s, I was with my parents as we drove through a town in southern VT. there was a sign for a local winery.
Me: "Dad, have you tried that wine?"
Dad: "Yes. It tastes like horse piss."
Me: "Interesting. What was your basis for comparison, Dad?"
Dad: Mutterings about his smart-assed kid.
If we have to march off into the next world, let us walk there on the bodies of our enemies.