Robert Capon, in his book, The Supper of the Lamb, considers a perfectly excrable bottle of synthetic Kirsch.
"Every now and then, I take another sip, partly to remind myself of what a
paragon of awfulness it is, but partly to prove that for all its faults, it is
still not undrinkable. In a real world, nothing is infinitely bad. My bottle of
bogus Kirsch bears witness that there is no bottomless pit in any earthly
subject ... The Kirsch in my closet is a little hell..."
Interesting take on hell. All its pains are closed in there - like that bottle of Kirsch. And when you taste it, you realize that nothing else could be quite as bad as this.
Surely, God leaves us all little reminders like this one, that though this is a fallen world, it is not ultimately as bad as it could be. Time closes in its pains, and one sip of Heaven will wash away even the memory of that insecticide that passes here for Kirsch.