A Long, Hard Screw

I have just received a catalogue extolling the virtues of corkscrew technology in the twenty-first century, and the reaction in my gut is akin to the sensations sparked by my last visit to the 96th Street taco truck. Today, I will bypass pondering the perils and pleasures of Mexican street food and instead spend some time discussing the topic of corkscrews.
The most common corkscrew on the market is officially known as Double Lever; I prefer the moniker, "The Jumping Jack" on account of the flapping "arms." And, indeed, Jagger would be proud; the design is so sexual in nature that it would have made Leslie Fiedler blush! However, this train of thought is totally tangential as any semblance of personal puritanism mysteriously sojourns on sabbatical once I catch a glimpse of a nice bottle; the primary problem with these devices is far greater than mere morals. For starters, the manufacturers have a habit of adding large flanges to the threads of the worm, a technique that would be commendable if the goal were to power a submarine or biplane, but in the case of wine results in the sudden shredding of the coveted cork. Further, in the intersect of cost-cutting, this variety frequently feature solid core screws which are far better suited to a paper shredder than a Roumier. (The preferred alternative is hollow-core.)
Yet, the fundamental flaw of the product is its very nature; the mechanism is large and unnecessary. Wine is simple; it comes from the earth and it is a reflection of the earth. Simple. There is no need to erase this essence by harnessing the bottle to some contrived contraption out of Justine.
Likewise, I am not an advocate of any of the Bondian products on the market for the same reason. It may be true that inserting a six inch hypodermic needle into a cork may be a scientifically superior method of removing a cork(as well as detecting any prenatal warning signs.) Yet, in the words of Balki Bartokomous, "Don't be ridiculous!" I have never seen any depiction of Bachus wielding such an implement! And, when Noah was, uh, "gettin' his drink on" in the vineyard, I doubt that he asked Ham to fetch his Rabbit Five Piece Wine Opening Set.
My desired device is the wine key or "waiters' corkscrew."These simple, waddish workhorses are a cousin of the Swiss Army knife. In their most simple form, a three inch-ish oval body houses a worm which swings out to a perpendicular position and locks in place. Better models include a blade for cutting the foil, and a metal flap that can be used to build leverage. (You know what these look like! Every waiter in the city uses one; hence the appellation!)
The premier maker of this variety is French staple, Laguiole, (I believe pronounced la-yoll) applauded worldwide for their cutlery (not to mention the famed champagne saber!) Laguiole's logo is the regal Bee of the Napoleonic days and their products still maintain a level of excellence fit for an emperor, featuring superlative components and sturdy assembly. In addition to excellent engineering, these products are aesthetically stunning. They are handmade and unique; the handles are crafted from a wide range of materials ranging from Black Bull Horn to the exotic Yew Tree. The downside is that they are not cheap ranging from roughly one to three hundred dollars. If you have the liquidity, it is worth it, if not consider the following factors when shopping for a screw.

Some Quick Tips...
- The worm portion should have five, full revolutions.
- Hollow Core!
- Avoid plastic. (Sorry, Mr. McGuire, Benjamin.)
- Make sure that the worm locks.
- The less hinges, the less likely that they snap.
- You can use a knife... really... don't fall for the foil cutter, integrated.