Now that American consumers have embraced rosé wines as a legitimate drink not just for girls and sissies, and practically every winery on the planet that makes red wine is also turning out rosé to cash in on the trend — bleeding off some of that first-press juice before too much skin contact — an inevitable backlash is occurring. Popping up on social media are posts and comments asserting not only that “Rosé Sucks!” — in addition to the die-hards who insist that “Derrick Rose Sucks!”– but that the category itself is a trash wine, an afterthought not worthy of consideration to people who drink “real” wine. Leaving aside the issue of Derrick Rose, those of us who love rosé wines know that our exemplars are far from trashy afterthoughts, but totally real wines that offer style, elegance, grace, refreshment and complexity — and a great deal of pleasure.

The actual problem, I think, isn’t that rosé wines suck, but that, in the broad scheme of the vinous realm, most wine sucks. Looky here, friends, the wines that receive most of the attention and praise, the wines that consumers and collectors alike search for avidly, the wines that receive the high scores from the slick magazines and young sommeliers wet their pants over to get onto their lists — these wines account for about five percent of the wine made in the world every year, 10 percent, if you want to be generous. The other 90 to 95 percent of the wine made in the world annually is basic plonk, designed to be gulped thoughtlessly while people work their way through a platter of nachos and scarf down a burger or a slice of pizza or a bowl of chili. Decent, perhaps, drinkable, harmless, bland, dull, innocuous, forgettable: the everyday quaff.

Unfortunately, many of these wines are an amalgam of de-acidifiers (or their opposite), oak chips, powdered tannin, color stabilizers and, oh right, grapes, all assembled in anonymous warehouses in industrial suburbs. Hardly wine at all, though you can slap a weird name and goofy label on it and Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and Costco can sell it for $5 a bottle.

But what the hell, most products of human ingenuity, industry and sweaty brows suck, so why shouldn’t most wine? Most books are dreadful; most films and television programs are stupid; the music industry churns out enough garbage to clog our ears to the end of time yet manages to sleep the sleep of the just every night and rake in the dough. Art, architecture and design? Don’t get me started! And how often do we get someone to come in and perform a home repair job with competence and fairness?

Do you understand what I’m saying?

Mediocrity is the quotidian.

Why should the wine industry be any different? Oh, right, it’s swathed in a haze of romance and mystique, an aura which is, frankly, entirely fictitious. Very few people outside of tech CEOs and media giants can afford the “wine country life,” whether the environment is Napa Valley, Tuscany or Provence.

I’m tending far afield in riffing mode here, so getting back to the actual point: Don’t blame the mediocrity — the “sucky factor” — of wine in general on rosé wines in particular. There’s a lot of nasty sauvignon blanc and over-oaked chardonnay and cloyingly alcoholic cabernet sauvignon out there, and that’s at the ultra-premium level. I have nothing against well-made inexpensive wine, and when I come across one of those wines, I’ll promote it eagerly. I think, in fact, that there’s more honor in creating 10,000 cases of an authentic and essential 10-dollar wine than in creating 1,000 cases of a 100-dollar wine that tastes like every other 100-dollar wine. Chose your wines carefully, readers, and when you find some you like, grasp them to your bosoms with gratitude. Even rosé.