The War Against the Adult Habit of Drinking

Our Society Won't Stop Until All My Small Joys Are Brutally Extinguished

Lately, I’ve been working hard to become a moderate drinker, one who does not consume more than 14 drinks a week. And for the last two weeks, I’ve managed to do so! Often, I’ll drink a martini and snack on chunks of parmesan and olives. Then I’ll match my puttanesca with a glass of primitivo or maybe a slightly chilled zweigelt. Am I a monster?

Apparently, so. “No moderate drinking isn’t good for your health” a Washington Post headline announces. The article is poorly written and meandering, almost like the kind of writing I produce when I’m super drunk (see my second novel, for example). It’s point is that all drinking is terrible. The subtext, I suppose, is that Americans should deprive themselves of the last tiny bits of joy so that we may live longer and work into our dotage. In other news, Americans are falling hard for a weight loss drug called semaglutide which makes alcohol taste disgusting. Okay, as a 128-pounder I’m not against weight loss, but if you want to lose weight please use the miracle drug metformin, which causes no such ridiculous side effects.

In conclusion, America’s penchant for self-improvement always leads to a life of withering internal misery. There are different kinds of health. One may require injections of a horrific drug, the other requires a tumbler and ice.