I spent an unremarkable weekend cleaning my place and toiling over an urgent project for work, but at least I had the chance to take out and set up my new decanter:

I received this as a gift last month, and I was very glad to get it because it’s absolutely crucial for the kind of person that I want to become.

Which isn’t to say that I spend a lot of time drinking.  That is, unless it’s past 10 a.m.  But a decanter is important because it’s the perfect prop to have when you’re saying or doing something malevolent that furthers your personal agenda.

For example, you could simply say “Well, senator, I’m not sure what the press will make of those photographs I have of your daughter. It would be a shame if they were to suddenly see the light of day.”

Kind of boring.  But say that same phrase while getting up from behind your desk, opening a decanter, and slowly pouring yourself a drink.

“...it would be a shame if they were to suddenly see the light of day.”

See?  It changes everything. The ambience. The intonation.  It’s all in the decanter.

This is an important clue that Harry Osborne may be an okay guy. In Spider-Man 3, there’s a scene where he rushes into a room and quickly starts chugging a decanter of whiskey.  This is a troubled young man. He is not one to sidle up and slowly pour himself a drink; he inhales it.  A true supervillain would not do such a thing. It suggests that he is, deep in his heart, a steadfast companion to young Peter Parker.

My only problem is that I don’t have a lot of sinister conversations at home.  I’m thinking of taking the decanter to work.  At my department meeting I can hand out copies of the project I did this weekend, then get up from my seat and slowly pour myself a drink: “Of course, this is only half of the output.  If you’d like the rest of the analysis, I’m going to need a 30% raise.  Or I simply can’t promise that my computer won’t suffer an unfortunate....accident.”