Why ambassador, with this wine, you're really spoiling us (and showing the author's age).
Imagine, if you will, a majestically-angled decanter of the finest boarded card, tapped with a plasticised nozzle. Chief among its alluring attributes has always been the unknowable quantity of its contents.
But no more. I aim to reveal this aforementioned mystery to the assembled inebriates, by means of a secreted scale, with its tare, deftly pressed by me upon mounting the vessel. With the formality of the advertised quantity supplied to this mechanical marvel, it is now fully aware of the physical weight of the environmentally-still-not -as-friendly-as-grapes -but-yeah-grapes-still-travel -and-have packaging, if not the consequences.
Nevertheless, this mindless electronic automaton will faithfully display its wholehearted belief, as to the current volume of intoxicant remaining.
The deluxe version is made of oak* and looks weird, like an awarded designer made it, so you can pretend you don't just buy boxed wine because it's big and cheap.
*Or maple, maybe walnut. Anyway, whatever that tree is. I reckon I can mill that. Why would I pay someone to chop that down. No, no, I haven't. I've only had 2 glasses.