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1For your consideration - Imagine a married couple, beset upon by a friend of the wife's mother. This friend is new in the country and looking to create new social alliances in this strange land. Admirable, she is. She hosts a wine tasting party and invites the couple to attend. The couple, attempting to reconcile their place in the universe with peace and tranquility, accepts the invitation. It is made certain by placement on the calendar, the modern equivilant of spitting in one's palm and shaking hands. In the interim period between invitation and event, plans are foregone because support must be granted to the growth of this new fledgling social hiearchy that should be nurtured and watered.
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3One week before the event it becomes clear that the event is not just a wine *tasting* event but a wine *selling* event. In fact, the mother's friend has enlisted the support of a multi level marketing organization dedicated to getting friends to sell each other wine for the benefit of the parent wine selling company. The couple, thinking an olive branch of friendship had been extended realize that in fact, the burnt branch of marketing and sales was being extended by dark fingers of commerce and trickery. The couple is not pleased but at this point feels obligated to attend the awkward social encounter. The couple then learns that on the very same day of the party, there is a pool party where alcohol flows freely and friendily, without the promise of sales and strangers. Conflicted, the couple decides to go to the pool party before the wine party - perhaps to set the mood properly.
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5At the pool party there are margaritas. There are beers. There are wines. There are coolers. There are wine coolers. In short, there is a plethora of substances given freely to all who arrive in the hopes of having a good time. Nobody is trying to make money off of friends, because well, friends or prospective friends don't try to pull tricks on one another in order to make financial gains. Prospective friends who do try that very quickly become not-friends, the polar opposite of prospective-friends. While the ideas and drinks are flowing freely, a discussion is had. Plans are formed, hatched even, from the egg of discontent and financial independence. The couple likes to go at things from weird angles and will not simply fail to appear at the wine party. The couple decides that a friend (let's call him Daniel), who is in an advanced state of drunkeness from the aformentioned free flowing mind altering substances, will attend the wine tasting party with the couple and just generally lay waste to the party, because fuck that shit. Daniel will be a Dirty Bomb if you will. The couple wasn't trying to do this or anything, it just kind of happened. After discussion, with maliced pre-planning and organization.
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7Pounding one more margarita before leaving and a few more for the road, the couple and Daniel enter into a contract with a local ride sharing service to procure travel to the wine party. Safety first, kids. The (now) trio explains to the driver their story. The driver is supportive. The trio feels vindicated, justified and proper. They exit the vehicle with rightious indignation, intent on creating a good time where awkwardness was envisioned. They are the magicians of our age, crafting laughter from ill intent. They will spin this spell over a web of lies, but the web of lies will give birth to a good time. This much they are sure of in their advanced state of deterioration.
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9They stroll peacefully to the door, full of confidence and bravado. They kick the door down, or rather knock politely and make small talk as they enter the party full of strangers who feel tricked into a marketing engagement masked as a social engagement. A group of a dozen or so loosely related people exist in the building: neighbors, friends of friends, sisters, brother in laws and other confused parties. Being already in an altered state, the trio let loose their feelings on the other strangers and laughter with merriment ensues. Some of the other party goers are heard to exclaim: I didn't think this would be so much fun! Thusly entertained, the group bonds and forms closer social ties using the temporal elixir of alcohol, forgetfulness and laughter.
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11General chit chat and jokes having been established and well worn, a knock on the door is heard. Hark! It is the wine seller, ready to offer her services (for a price, with a cut to the organizer) to people who are drinking. A very honorable endeavor, we assure you. The wine seller enters, arms pregnant with paper bags fully laden with the promise of wine and profit. A step, seen by prior entrants but not by the new entrant, makes its presence known. The wine seller peeks only over the top of the overflowing bags so she is unaware of her next fateful step. The existing house inhabitants exclaim, watch out! But alas, the armful of bags and wine, the lack of clarity in the carrier of said bags and a general sense of karma invade the space readily. A foot fall that was meant to be a foot step becomes the last domino in the ongoing universal battle of disorder vs order. The wine seller tumbles, arms and face akimbo, towards her carpeted doom. Luckily the paper bags full of full wine bottles do break most of her fall, but her ankle does take 100 hit points of damage on the way down, covering her not in wine, but in embarassment and sprainage.
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13Daniel, an alleged recreational soccer enthusiast, recognizes her plight and is heard to exclaim, "Oh Dear God" and rushes to her aid, emboldened by the many chemicals raging through his brain like an army of European soccer hooligans having shortly lost their most recent playoff engagement. Caressing her ankle sweetly, he lifts it onto his lap and gently prods and pokes it, asking if she feels this and that poke like she is the star player in a World Cup Final and he, the knowledgable doctor. Well, that was probably what he assumed was happening. In fact he starts moving it around roughly and she screams, "Get off of me, it's fine!" 
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15A truce being reached between the warring parties, they settle back to the demilitarized zone of the dinner table for the final battle: the sale of wine. The wine seller elevates her hastily ice wrapped ankle and gets on to her business of moving some product. The party goers are assembled and flustered but willing to endure the next hour of all-thumbs wine selling. Various wines are suitably described based on their semi-invented details and presented to the party goers as quite bourgeois and ready for their immediate middle class consumption, save for the impending minor details of payment. The wine, tasting just fine but full of undisclosed prices makes the party goers understandably nervous to commit. 
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17The Dirty Bomb, sensing their hesitancy and eager to make amends for previous traumas, takes up the mantle of salesman. He stands up at the table and exclaims to each party goer, "What is your favorite part of this wine? How about you? And you good sir?" The party goers are hesitant to commit so Daniel redoubles his efforts with additional enthusiasm. The couple's relations look at them as if to say, "Please stop him and make him sit down." The husband is doubtful and shakes his head as if to say, "Oh no, we are seeing this through to the very end, warts and all. Buckle up bitches." The relations, realizing the futility of continued effort, relent, allowing reality to unfold as it must. Inexplicably, Daniel makes some sales, possibly based on the minimum effort required to shut him up and sit him down.
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19The party, an overwhelming victory for the wine seller, the organizer, and the Dirty Bomb draws to a close. The wine seller finds herself enamoured with the Dirty Bomb who caresses her softly and whispers sweet nothings in her ear, drawing attention filled blushes upon her cheeks with a drunken pen of affection. Shoulder massages are in play. Foot massages are in play. Phone numbers are in play. Love is in the air. The Dirty Bomb has exploded, but not in the way one might have thought, his full release being pleasant even.
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21Goodbyes are said, hugs exchanged and invoices delivered. Product was moved, currency exchanged. Civilization exists and continues to exist. No further wine parties have been attended but the wine seller did indeed contact Daniel to meet after the party - and tried to sell him insurance, which he politely declined. 
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23Long live the Dirty Bomb.