choking on volstead

hanging dry: some days drinking are worse than others, but even a bad day drinking beats a good day being eaten by volstead sharks (i.e., working, going to school, adhering to the status quo, or being demonized for imbibing before noon...)


you know, drinking became taboo in the u.s. as long ago as the 1920s, when prohibition was instituted. as we enter the middle of the first decade of the 21st century, and the radical, religious right strengthens its grip on a tortured nation--and, by trickle-down effect, the world--a waiting and fearful state of honest drinkers looks on tremulously aghast as the growing cancer of intolerant teetotalers attacks the liberty of drinking. the term, "alcoholic," is thrown around with more alarming regularity than "i love you" or "anti-semite" and with just as much insidious consequences.

a person who drinks on a daily basis, but not even anywhere close to the point of inebriation, is branded ignomiously a "drinker." a person who drinks to the point of gentle and willing exit from sobriety, though it affects not his family or work life, is described as an "alcoholic." anyone close to this point or far beyond this point is branded as the same, though that's like calling a politician one who argues politics, one who fantasizes about entering politics, one who's a small-town councilwoman, and one who's a full-blown term senator: none of them is the same and ne'er the twain shall they meet.

it seems that when it comes to alcohol, there is no allowance made for a grey area: it's either black or white, you're either with them or with us; no one's allowed to be in the middle, to be in the undefined area that is untouchable by the radicals that argue each side of what is clearly not a two-sided enigma.

i drink,

...and i hang out with people who drink, and i don't really trust people who NEVER drink, for those are people who act as if drinking were some kind of poison or addictive progandist tool that immediately brainwashes. i joke about drinking, i drink about joking; i write about drinking and i drink about writing. i've written poems while drunk, while sober about drinking, and while drinking to the point of sobriety. i know good people who drink who are convinced they are alcoholics because of the spiraling definition of what an alcoholic is. i know teetotalers who are convinced that they live in glass houses because what they've done in their lives is far worse than ever enjoy the sweet taste of the sweet ambrosia that enlightens and enlivens the mind.

america is usually found nowhere near the top of any world survey of heavy-drinking countries, to which some people would point is the reason why the empire sits atop the heap of imperial darwinism at present. america is not famous for its good or potent beer (just good marketing); it isn't internationally famous for any liquor of local origin or legend; it isn't famed for its hard-drinking but fun-loving populace; people the world over don't demand authentic american beer or liquor or wine; hard-drinking entertainers, writers, and musicians aren't nationally revered by the conscious electorate. sure, there are good beers to be found, and bourbon and grain alcohol are as famous in drinking america as rum is to the caribbean or vodka in russia or soju in korea; there are ordinary americans in existence who do the drinking world proud; and hemingway, bukowski, gleason, fields, sinatra, and morrison, to name but a few, could hold their own in any world drinking contest. but there are no national celebrations of drink, no tolerance of the man or woman who drinks all night and comes back to work efficiently and coherently by day. there is no reverence of drink or of those who stand by it. there is always notoriety and shame who follows the man or woman accused of drinking "too much" or "too often." any acceptance of drink, any tolerance of that which is alcohol, any admirers of those who do the craft proud, any relation to a life built around alcohol is accosted, berated, derided, chastised, betrayed, belittled, devoured, emasculated, lambasted, or negated--except by those smart enough to recognize alcohol and those who partake in it as living gods with the potential to be immortal...

and this will be the downfall of the empire as the 21st century makes it way to the 22nd.

so, for those of you stuck in the 1920s, a cave, the dark ages, or in the religious right's back pocket, have a drink and hang out like the drying squid above. who knows, you might like it; mother nature knows you could use a different perspective...