Hope for me yet?

Why Do Heavy Drinkers Outlive Nondrinkers?

The sample of those who were studied included individuals between ages 55 and 65 who had had any kind of outpatient care in the previous three years. The 1,824 participants were followed for 20 years. One drawback of the sample: a disproportionate number, 63%, were men. Just over 69% of the never-drinkers died during the 20 years, 60% of the heavy drinkers died and only 41% of moderate drinkers died.

These are remarkable statistics. Even though heavy drinking is associated with higher risk for cirrhosis and several types of cancer (particularly cancers in the mouth and esophagus), heavy drinkers are less likely to die than people who have never drunk. One important reason is that alcohol lubricates so many social interactions, and social interactions are vital for maintaining mental and physical health. As I pointed out last year, nondrinkers show greater signs of depression than those who allow themselves to join the party.

This is entirely weird. I'm not going to suggest this says anything positive about the habits of drinkers, except that I'm not liable to be a daredevil because as a practised toper I know my limits, and know very well it's hard enough to play pool and imbibe, let alone skydive or participate in parkour. But those straight edge folks are always up to something, thanks to the feelings of health and well-being they enjoy in the morning (what's that gag--"I feel sorry for those folks who don't drink 'cause when they get up in the morning, that's as good as they're gonna feel all day long"--probably Dean Martin). This lets them believe that climbing mountains and crossing streets are perfectly normal activities one should take for granted.

A practiced drunk takes nothing for granted. The floor could move. Furniture could decide to plot against you. Your e-mail account could be hi-jacked by the absinthe fairies. Shit happens. Naturally one wants to guard against it by staying in poorly-lit rooms away from loud noises and stupid people whenever possible. One wants to reconnaisance any new environ for potties and exits. And one looks for soft landings. It's educational--drinking is.

And if there is any truth to the idea the religious have of repentence being good for one, the biologically mandated repentance of the hangover at least makes your dedicated boozer more of a homebody than not. You don't decide to take up jogging, which is what did in Jim Fix (pounding the pavement is unhappy for throbbing heads) or fiddle about with steroids, since your liver is already tender. You are disinclined to especially overeat, it taking away from valuable alimentary real-estate that could fit a few beers, and the result of overeating having probably been broadcast against shining porcelain on a few occasions, anyway. One's taste for going a-roving diminishes apace, and although some take to fighting when in their cups, the majority of drinkers find a peace that passeth understanding, shantih, shantih.

And I'm not even sure that this post is entirely smart, or just a tribute to Kingsley Amis, or what, since I have, after all, been drinking. And in the interest of furthering my art and my health, I subscribe to the likelihood that I will at least have another before bed.