Social Ills

Being a raging drunk doesn't make for a great social life. The drunker you get, the longer you stay drunk, the harder it is to get off the couch and go to parties.

Fortunately, I keep my rage in check. That way I get to the parties, get ripped and make an ass of myself in public. It's much more satisfying that way.

This week I have the opportunity to go to a rather high-class affair that involves sipping older, more expensive wines with older, more expensive people. Not exactly the crowd I usually rub elbows with, but then anything is a step up from a crowd of journalists. And if you think I'm being cruel, ask 'em. They're the first to admit it.

Still, drunk is drunk, and no matter what you drink, the more you drink of it, the more apt it is to come out the same way it went in.

But do not think I am advocating public intoxication. Heavens no. That's the sort of thing one should always reserve for evenings on the couch or in front of the computer chatting. Or Vegas.