I thought we already knew this.

Kevin Spacey tried to rape a 14-year-old and now the newspapers be like, "Wow, Kevin Spacey finally came out as gay." 

Crabby Affirmations:

"I came to another turning point - that terrible opportunity that people are given in their lives. The day that they discover to the tips of their toes that they’re Assholes...You have to work on from there and decide what your values are. Which parts of you that are no longer really necessary."

-Joni Mitchell

Someone pointed out...

It's National Cat Day.

Do They Learn That at AA School?

I went to an AA meeting last week, the first time in a long time. I try to make an appearance every so often to say hi to people I know there, to be around other people for whom the struggle is real, and basically just check in. I don't go every day anymore -- more like once a week, and sometimes a month or more will go by. But I do still show up once in awhile, like I did last week, for the reasons stated. 

A woman there, one of the leaders of this particular group, always spots me walking in and immediately demands an explanation for why I haven't been to the meeting, and a tally of how many days I've been without a drink. This would be bad enough, but what really bugs me is that when I assure her that nope, I still haven't had a drink, she seems... what, disappointed? Skeptical? It's like she can't quite believe that anyone can maintain sobriety for more than a few minutes without a vigorous recitation of the Serenity Prayer. 

It feels a bit like she's waiting for the tearful confession that I went on a three-day bender, woke up in the gutter, and came crawling back to AA ready to begin the 12 steps, memorize the Big Book and accept Jesus as my personal savior. She always seems a little miffed that I haven't fallen off the wagon and my life hasn't deteriorated into a living hell since I last saw her. She gives a sort of knowing little smile, like Just you wait and see...

Do they learn that smile at AA school? Do they have to practice and master it before they can graduate to Meeting Facilitator? 

Here's a fact: I have no intention of showing up at an AA meeting every day for the rest of my life. AA is one item in my tool box, and I utilize it as needed. But I don't see it as The One True Path to Sobriety, and I'll not be joining its congregation of most fervent believers. Meanwhile, what I don't need is a patronizing smile and smug predictions of how long before I relapse and hit my "personal bottom." 

There's a garage in here somewhere...

Cleaning the garage was a lot more fun when I was drinking. Not that much actual cleaning got done, but still... 

Asking for a friend...

...Would it be so wrong to slip an Antabuse into someone’s cocktail? 

In Which We Exhume Nancy Reagan's Ghost

Is it just me, or is Trump's "strategy" for dealing with the opioid crisis just another layer of paint on Nancy Reagan's tired old "Just Say No" campaign from the 1980s? 

If only those grade school kids had listened to Nancy and Just Said No, there wouldn't even be an opioid crisis today, amirite? 

Except we all know how that turned out: 

"Fears of children getting addicted to drugs gave rise to the school-to-prison pipeline. Shortly after the First Lady launched her Just Say No campaign, Congress passed the Drug-Free Schools and Communities Act in 1986, mandating zero tolerance for any drugs or alcohol found on public school grounds. That brought police officers into schools. Those police officers then started arresting students not only for drug possession but also for minor school code infractions, such as throwing Skittles or violating the dress code."

I'd be more inclined to believe that President Dotard actually meant well if our Attorney General and National Lawn Gnome Jeff Sessions weren't out there threatening to jail anyone who so much as looks at a cannabis plant.

You'll forgive me for saying this all seems like more magical thinking in terms of how we think about addiction and treatment in this country. Because if history is any guide, the only ones benefiting from this latest front in our eternal War On Drugs will be these people. 

You Can't Always Get What You Want

But if you try sometimes, y'just might find...

...Y'get what you neeeeed.

I care. Really, I do.

Someone pointed out that today is National I Care About You Day.  

Who comes up with these things?

Mood swings much...?

It’s actually kinda hard to stay in a shitty mood on a beautiful day like today, so how about we just forget everything I said in that last post? 

I read somewhere that mood swings are common when you quit smoking. Gee, YA THINK...!? 

Prince Charming I'm Not

Not Prince Charming.

I know we're all supposed to find a new lease on life when we break the shackles of addiction and walk in the newfound light of our sobriety, but it doesn't always feel that way to me. 

For example, it doesn't necessarily help that I'm sober when, despite my winning personality and naturally sunny disposition, all I can seem to do is piss people off. I naively assumed that giving up all my bad habits would somehow make me nicer, but no. 

Nor has being sober turned my current dead end, low-paying job into one of those rewarding careers with "exciting opportunities for professional growth and personal satisfaction." The pay still sucks, and it still bores the shit out of me. 

Still not.

Quitting booze hasn't given me any new health & vigor that I've noticed, hasn't brought new color to my cheeks, hasn't put a new spring in my step, and hasn't melted away the extra pounds. 

Being sober these last months hasn't brought any particular new depth and intimacy to my personal relationships, or improved my social skills, or made me a better conversationalist. 

I thought this was supposed to make me a better person, and I suppose it has. (It has, okay? Even I can see that.) 

But you'll forgive me if there are times, like now, on a day that feels like another pointless spin on the hamster wheel of life, when I'm just not feeling the exuberant joy of sobriety. 

Nope, still not.

The fact that it has been 216 days since my last drink (and 9 days since my last cigarette) hasn't exactly turned me into Prince Charming, just sayin'.

Random Thought

Antabuse would probably be more popular if they’d put a little Vicodin in it...

My Higher Power is Cthulhu

Welp, turns out that if I'm going to succeed at the 12 Steps I'm going to need a Higher Power. This isn't as easy as it sounds for a card-carrying atheist like me, but when in Rome, etcetera. 

I've been shopping around, and have narrowed the list to these leading contenders:

Cthulhu

I like Cthulhu for this because simply looking upon him drives one insane, which pretty much preempts any need to get drunk. Also Cthulhu is huge, which gives the phrase "getting smashed" a whole new and literal meaning. While the rest of you are reciting the Serenity Prayer, I'll be chanting "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

Bacchus

The original Party God. Wine was my thing, so who better to be my higher power than the god of grapes. The greeks called him Dionysus, but whatever his name, one thing is sure: Dude knew how to have a good time. 

The Flying Spaghetti Monster

In Carbs We Trust. Food was always a buzz-kill for me, and I often forewent eating entirely in the belief that it interfered with my drinking. In that context, it might make sense to worship a supernatural flying dry good. 

Maleficent

For those times when I'm the only one at the party without a cocktail, it's always fun to channel my inner wicked queen. 

This Tree

Because why not? Since I don't believe in make-believe, it only makes sense for my higher power to be something, y'know, real. 

Random Thought

 There's something to be said for having nothing left to hide. 

Quitting is easy, I do it every day...

Hey, can I bum one of those...?

Yesterday made a week since I last raised a cigarette to my trembling lips. Can't say I feel any healthier, but my car smells minty fresh. Meanwhile, I'm wondering what I can do this week to make my life a living hell. 

Maybe it's the coffee...

I have a list of things to get done today, and this will sound weird to anyone who knows me, but some of them are actually getting done. 

Like, when did that start...? 

I say “ex-drunk”

...because saying “in recovery” always makes me throw up in my mouth a little.  

I feel the need to share...

Look, I may or may not be “in recovery,” as you think of it, but either way I’m still 7 months sober. Something, or some combination of things, is working for me  and I don’t plan to turn back now; the fact is I’ve never gone this long before. 

It doesn’t really matter to me if you define it as being “in recovery,” or “in denial.” Maybe I just got sick of being a drunk, and I’m liking the new me. 

Whatever the case, this shitty blog has been a part of it. It doesn’t have to live up to anyone’s idea of what a “recovery blog” is supposed to be, because maybe it isn’t actually a “recovery blog” to start with. 

Thanks. I needed to get that off my chest. 

Is it just me, or...?

... or does Mike Pence always look like he secretly wants Trump to sit on his face? 

Is Reefer Madness the New "Exit Drug?"

(Not a gateway drug)

I've never been a big believer in the whole "gateway drug" theory. That's because back in my day, I dabbled in whatever shit was en vogue at the time. I never got into anything too heavy -- I've noted my needle-phobia -- but depending on which of my friends had gotten paid that week, and what was on hand with the local dealer, we might spend an afternoon passing a bong, snorting a few lines or chewing a few 'shrooms. Once or twice in the 80s I think there might have been the rare hit of Ecstasy or some other club drug but, really, who can remember? 

(Not madness.)

My point is that none of them really served as a "gateway" to the other. Each had their own effect, some of which I liked more than others, but could take or leave. Cocaine never took hold with me -- it just made me twitchy and too chatty. I liked pot for certain things and in certain situations, but it never became problematic the way alcohol did. I never wanted to toke up before work or on my lunch hour, for example, and it never made me pick fights with strangers. 

Which brings me to the brave new world of "exit drugs." Here is none other than Dr. Oz yesterday, explaining how reefer madness might just save us all from the opioid epidemic. (And yes, I did just link to High Times.)

(Not a doctor.)

Look I'm no doctor, I just play one on the internet. But you'll forgive me if I remain a tad skeptical. My drug of choice, my addiction, was always (and remained for 30 years) simple booze. If the occasional bong-hit didn't lead me to powerballing heroin and morphine back in the day, then I'm a little skeptical that bogarting a doobie now will do much to stop an Oxy jones. 

If we want to talk about which is safer* overall, fine. But could we stop talking about drugs as if their effects are interchangeable or that abuse of one leads inexorably to abuse of them all? Or the reverse, that substituting one for another will somehow solve one's addiction to a specific thing? Or one's general desire to be altered? Because in my experience neither has proven true, just sayin. 

*Clue: It's pot. 

The struggle is real.

Third day without a cigarette, and I haven’t killed anyone yet. But it’s only Tuesday... 

Trigger Happy

So I'm sitting in the meeting last night, listening to some guy drone on and on about his "triggers," an extensive list of people, places and things he has to avoid because they make him want to drink. Fair enough, I suppose, but I'm not a big fan of the trigger theory. 

Things that trigger my drinking include: 
Kim Kardashian's fat ass...

Here's why: Everything is kind of a trigger for me. Being alone makes me want to drink. Being around other people makes me want to drink. Being happy makes me want to drink. Being sad makes me want to drink. 

Celebrating? I'll drink to that. Friday night? Perfect time to drink. Monday morning? I'll just take the edge off before heading to work. Up? Drink. Down? Drink. Inside out, upside down, spin your partner round and round, drink, drink, drink. Hell, usually AA makes me want a drink.

...Getting up in the morning...

One of the first bits of sage advice I heard when I quit drinking was to avoid my "triggering events." Really? Like, I dunno, waking up in the morning? Sitting in my living room? Going to another fucking AA meeting? You guessed it: Trigger, trigger, trigger. 

This tree...

Here's a question: Is any one thing a trigger when everything is a trigger? 

I'll leave it to greater minds to ponder, but in the meantime I don't see the point in even listing my triggers, much less trying to avoid them. Because if I started to avoid them all, I would never do anything.

We're Gonna Need A Bigger Patch

Do these come in Extra Large...?

Yesterday I hit the 7-months sober mark. To celebrate, I decided to torture myself further by quitting smoking again. (Old joke alert: "Quitting smoking is simple. I do it every day!" Badda-Bing!) It's not something I've ever been able to do for long while drinking (which was pretty much always for the last 30 years), so I figured I'd try it again now that I'm sober. My body, after all, is my temple. 

I found out the fine folks at Tobacco Free Florida will send Florida residents a free 2-week supply of the nicotine patch. I ordered them some time ago, but only put one on yesterday. They don't magically make the cravings go away entirely, but they do help quite a bit. The withdrawal ratchets down from "Acute Agony" and hovers somewhere closer to "Chronic Pain." Life is good. 

Anyhoo, wish me luck. Meanwhile, I'll be channeling my spirit animal for help when I need it: 

Is The Queen A Lush?

8AM: This champaign pairs well
with rubies.

Is the Queen a lush? It's a question that's been weighing mightily upon me since reports popped up last July that Elizabeth II, England's longest reigning monarch, likes a wee nip with breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. Oh, and after dinner. 

One might wonder how she has the stamina to rule an empire while also slinging back the gin & Dubonnet, the wine, the martinis and the champaign every day. I'm frankly awed by her sheer stamina. One little six-pack with breakfast was usually enough to render me useless all morning, which I suppose is why I'm just a queen and not the Queen. 

9AM: It's good to be the Queen.

Anyhow, this has me wondering about the slippery parameters we use to define "alcoholism." Consider this from NIH:

NIAAA’s Definition of Drinking at Low Risk for Developing Alcohol Use Disorder (AUD): 

For women, low-risk drinking is defined as no more than 3 drinks on any single day and no more than 7 drinks per week. For men, it is defined as no more than 4 drinks on any single day and no more than 14 drinks per week. NIAAA research shows that only about 2 in 100 people who drink within these limits have AUD.

So by packing away some 42 units of alcohol a day, is the Queen a boozer or not? It's confusing, because:

Binge Drinking:

• NIAAA defines binge drinking as a pattern of drinking that brings blood alcohol concentration (BAC) levels to 0.08 g/dL. This typically occurs after 4 drinks for women and 5 drinks for men—in about 2 hours.
  
  
• The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), which conducts the annual National Survey on Drug Use and Health (NSDUH), defines binge drinking as 5 or more alcoholic drinks for males or 4 or more alcoholic drinks for females on the same occasion (i.e., at the same time or within a couple of hours of each other) on at least 1 day in the past month.

I used to wonder why people who enjoyed their Bloody Mary's and their champaign brunches would look down on me for knocking back a few before noon. Same difference, amirite? 

10AM: A quick nip
while no one's looking...

Well, no actually. For starters, the typical champaign brunch isn't held by oneself on a Tuesday morning before work. Also, (for normal people at least) the Eggs Benedict typically play a more central role than the champaign. 

My point is that it can sometimes be difficult to pin down whether or not someone is an "alcoholic" based solely on the times of day when they drink, or (I'll go out on a limb here) even by how frequently or how much they drink on any given day. I know that sounds like heresy, but does any reasonable person really think the Queen is a lush? All snark aside, I don't think so. 

This is because I've come to define my own alcoholism by one very simple fact: Once I start to drink, I don't want to stop. I'm envious of people who can nurse one drink through an entire dinner. I'm annoyed by people who can leave a glass half full on the table. I'm mystified by people who can have a couple beers once or twice a week, and then not think about it again. Because it doesn't work that way for me, and never has. One is never enough, and neither are three. Or four... Or five...

11AM: Drink up, it's almost noon!

For me, it had less to do with the time of day, or even how often I drank, than with the simple fact that I had no off switch for it. That, coupled with the fact that there was no time when I didn't want it made it a real problem. 

So in answer to my question, no, I don't think the Queen is a lush as I define it. Because even though she likes her gin & tonic in the morning, she's able to walk away from it long enough to get to her next ribbon-cutting. Like other normal people, it doesn't seem to be a central preoccupation of her day, and she seems quite content with not getting plastered at lunch, thank you.  

We are not amused.

     

Back in my day...

... We just called them “shelves,” but whatever. 

Just wondering...

...Would I get more click-throughs on Twitter if I just said, “CLICK HERE OR DIE, MUTHAFUCKAS!!!” 

Come out, come out...

... wherever you are.  

Happy National Coming Out Day. 

And Now A Word From Our Sponsors...

I'm sitting in my car when the phone rings. "Ring," it  says. 

"NOOOOoooooo...!"

Have I mentioned I hate the phone? I don't consider this Apple iProduct I carry around to be a phone. I think of it as an internet connection device. Which means you can text me, email me, FB me, tweet me, but don't call me. Add me to your permanent Do Not Call list, because I don't want to chat on the phone, not now, not ever, to anyone. That includes you. 

"Riiiinnnnggg," the phone says again. 

Fuck. It's my (making big finger air quotes) "AA sponsor." I don't know this guy, okay, don't want to hear from him. In fact, now I think about it, what exactly is a sponsor anyway? That whole AA sponsor thing has alwys felt kinda creepy to me, like I've been assigned a stalker.  

Just don't.

"Rrrrriiiiinnnnnggggg," the phone says. Look, strange AA-sponsor-guy, you seem like a nice enough person.  It's not you, it's me. No hard feelings, okay, but I'm not going to talk to you right now. Or ever, probably.  

"Riiiinnnngggggggg," says the phone. Christ, can't this fucking thing go to voicemail already? 

"RRRRIIIINNNNGGG." Did I really give him my phone number? What was I thinking. Note to self: Do not give out the phone number. To anyone. Ever.  

The phone stops. 

"Hey," the voicemail says. "I'm just checking in with you. You said you hit 6 months last week, congrats. At 6 months I went kinda wobbly. Anyway, you can call me if you need to talk to someone."

<Click> 

I'd call you back,
but my phone, it's...

Hmmmm, that's odd. No preaching. No demands. No nagging to start my fucking "step work." He sounded kinda tired, actually, like he'd had a long day. I listen to it again and realize: He didn't particularly want to talk to me, either. I find this oddly comforting. It makes me think slightly better of him.  

It occurs to me, sitting there, that there are only about three people in this world who actually give a shit if I ever drink again or not: My spouse; my mom; and, for some reason, this AA sponsor dewd. I have no clue why anyone would want to take on this role -- it's gotta be a thankless job -- but they do it. 

Which is why, even though I pretty much hate the phone, hate the whole forced-friend AA sponsorship thing, and in fact hate the whole AA come-to-jesus altar call, I call him back. 

"Hey," he says, sounding a little surprised to hear back from me,  "Good to hear from you."

"Thanks," I tell him. And then I add a polite little lie. Except that it's kinda not a lie anymore, not really, because I'm surprised to find that I kinda almost mean it when I say: "It's good to hear from you, too." 

Is it just me...?

...Or does Ben Affleck look completely shit-faced in this picture? 

No Magical Rainbow Unicorn Land

I’m always a little suspicious of the “I quit drinkng and now my days are filled with joy and EVERYTHING IS FUCKING WONDERFUL!!!” stories. 

Yes, of course things generally go better when I’m not constantly shit-faced drunk. Like, duh. But it’s not like I went skipping off to magical-rainbow-unicorn land just because I quit booze. There are days that still suck & I’m sometimes still an asshole. (SOMETIMES...!? Shut up, all of you.) 

I’m just sayin there’s nothing to be gained by over-selling sobriety and pretending that everything gets suddenly blissful or that you get an instant personality transplant. It doesn’t, and you don’t, and that’s ok. 

Tell Me A Story

So I was at a meeting recently, listening to people talk. There was a mother of three, now divorced, jobless, broke and nearly homeless. Her savings are gone, her ex won't talk to her, the kids don't want to see her. She's turned her life over to Jesus and hasn't had a drink for 22 days.

There was a young guy with scary tattoos and piercings, who spent significant time in prison for attempted murder. A bar fight that got out of hand. He was living temporarily with his mother and looking for a job, trying to start over. He hasn't had a drink since he got out 8 months ago.

There was a distinguished older gentleman in pressed slacks, tasseled loafers and a polo shirt, facing almost certain jail time for his third DUI. His hands were shaking as he told us he hasn't had a drink in 4 days.

Consequences: They suck. There were other stories too, good ones. Stories of success, of redemption, of personal growth.

Look, I spend a fair amount of time on this shitty blog snarking at AA, and much of it is well deserved IMO. If I never hear another passage from the fucking Big Book again, I'll be just fine thank you. There are times when AA makes me break out in hives, what with the talk of higher powers, the programed chanting, the droning recitation of the Serenity Prayer, the Lord's Prayer, the slogans and on, and on, and on. In a perfect world, we would dispense with all that, and just spend the hour talking amongst ourselves.

Because those stories? They speak to me, because my own record is far from spotless. That DUI a few years ago was, shall we say, not my most triumphant moment. And while it set me on the slow path to finally dealing with my problem, it wasn't my last time in a car while under the influence.

The stories, the shared experience of this struggle -- which only someone who's been there can fully understand -- is why I still sometimes go to the meetings. Forget the readings and the chanting. Tell me a story.

6 People Who Annoy The Shit Out of Me at Dinner Parties

Despite the fact that I've typically avoided dinner parties in the belief that they interfered with my drinking, I've nevertheless attended quite a few of them over the years. Dinner parties are a wonderful opportunity to mix & mingle with the beautiful people, many of whom annoyed the shit out of me when I was drunk -- and frankly, still do. I've compiled this handy list for your reference. 

Wine Tasters

I don't get people who drink wine to "complement" food. Let's face it, most wine -- even that fancy $10 shit -- tastes like a mixture of fermented produce and cough syrup. Seriously, are there people who actually drink wine because it tastes good? You'll forgive me if I'm unconvinced. I concluded long ago that no one drinks booze for the taste. I certainly never did. The only reason I ever drank was to get drunk. 

Food? What food.

In fact, I always preferred to keep it simple and just skip food all together. To hell with your effete wine pairing skills. I don't care if this Château d'Yquem Sauterne pairs nicely with your white truffle pate de foie gras. If the alcohol content is under 15%, you're wasting my time. 

Wasters

You gonna finish that?

For the life of me, I will never understand people who can walk away from a glass half full. Not only is it wasteful, but it signals to the host that he has somewhat questionable taste in wine. You might as well take a sip, spray the room with it and shout, "I can't drink this SWILL!" I always solved this by volunteering to help clear dirty dishes so I could discreetly finish off the wine everyone else had left behind.  

Slow drinkers

You know how it is when you’re at a dinner party, and as the host graciously fills your fourth glass of wine you notice that everyone else is still nursing their first? Even worse, an hour later, they've still barely touched it.

We're gonna need a bigger glass.

Your host says, "More wine, anyone?" And before you can slur "Sure, keep 'em commin," there's a polite consensus among the others that, thank you, they're fine for now. I was secretly convinced that my glass was somehow smaller than everyone else's. 

Tipsies

Two sips tipsy

You know the ones. A few sips on a white wine spritzer and they're suddenly getting the giggles. "Ooooo," they titter, "I'd better be careful. I'm getting a bit tipsy!" Please, just stop it. You can't possibly be feeling that half ounce of alcohol in that sissy little drink. My mom is one of these people. On her it's cute. The rest of you are just annoying to the real drunks. 

Nannies

The absolute worst. These are the ones who, even if they don't say it out loud, still manage to convey with their disapproving glances that you've probably had quite enough. Even worse, they'll show their deep concern for your health and safety: "Aren't you going to eat something?" they'll ask. Or, "Maybe you should alternate with sips of water. It's important to stay hydrated." They positively radiate disapproval and concern for your well being. Please promise me, now that I've quit drinking, that you'll kindly shoot me in the face if I ever become a Nanny.  

Other Drunks

I'll admit, these were the ones I sought out at dinner parties before I quit. We were best friends, even if we'd just met. They didn't annoy me then, but now that I've quit, they bug the shit me. Partly because I still have to sometimes fight the urge to join them. The old ache is still there. But mostly they bug me because I see myself in them and it makes me feel sad and embarrassed and pathetic. I don't feel superior to them -- I was them. And I'm just so fucking relieved that I don't have to be that way anymore. 

I've been discovered.

I'm ridiculously happy to announce that this shitty blog of mine has gone all prime-time. Yesterday's post was featured on "Doing It Sober Daily News," a sort of daily round-up of recovery related stuff -- research, news, opinion etc. Ours is still a young and lonely blog, Dear Reader, so having it featured on page 32 of a daily roundup will surely raise our average number of page views to at least... well, six or so by last count. Who knows, this could be my ticket outta here!

Anyhoo, lots of interesting things over there, so I've permanently linked to it at the right under "Better Blogs." Go check it out. Also they sell cool sober jewelry & stuff, and no, I don't get a cut of the proceeds. Damn them. 

My hunt is over

Right, so my hunt for the perfect car ended with this:

It made me slightly less crabby for a minute. 

Okay, So It's Not a Disease?

I dunno.

The other day I was expounding here about the theory that one's predisposition to addiction may have a genetic component. I'm not a scientist, I just play one on the internet, and I should probably state this at the top of everything I post on addiction. Fact is, my posts are simply reflections of my own experience, because fuck it, this is my shitty blog. That post was really little more than speculative rambling on my part, and I knew I was treading into troubled waters by comparing the experience of acknowledging my addiction (not healthy, not normal) with the acknowledgement many years ago that I am gay (healthy, normal.) That distinction (not healthy vs. healthy) is why I've always said that coming out as a drunk was harder for me than coming out as gay. Reasonable minds can agree to disagree with the point I was making there, whatever it was.   

Anyhoo, I recently stumbled across the Baldwin Research Institute, an organization focused on addiction treatment methodologies and best practices. From their website: 

Founded in 1989, the Baldwin Research Institute's mission is to research cutting edge drug and alcohol issues, educational methodology, and best practices for drug and alcohol problems and related issues, to guide the drug and alcohol treatment industry and recovery society as a force for change, and to honestly and objectively educate the public as to the effectiveness of treatment and prevention programs with respect to drug and alcohol use. 

 The people at Baldwin are not big fans of Alcoholics Anonymous, or of what they call the "recovery industry." One of the first things that caught my eye was the article "Alcoholism Is Not A Disease," which demolishes the whole disease model of addiction. A snippet: 

History and science have shown us that the existence of the disease of alcoholism is pure speculation. Just saying alcoholism is a disease, doesn't make it true. Nevertheless, medical professionals and American culture enthusiastically embraced the disease concept and quickly applied it to every possible behavior from alcohol abuse to compulsive lecturing and nail biting. The disease concept was a panacea for many failing medical institutions and pharmaceutical companies, adding billions of dollars to the industry and leading to a prompt evolution of pop-psychology. Research has shown that alcoholism is a choice, not a disease, and stripping alcohol abusers of their choice, by applying the disease concept, is a threat to the health of the individual. 

The disease concept oozes into every crevice of our society perpetuating harmful misinformation that hurts the very people it was intended to help. Remarkably, the assumptions of a few were accepted as fact by the medical profession, devoid of any scientific study or supporting evidence. And soon after, the disease concept was accepted by the general public. With this said, visiting the history of the disease concept gives us all a better understanding of how and why all of this happened.

It's a long article, but well worth the read. While I'm not sure where they fall on genetic predispositions to addiction, they do echo many of the suspicions I've long held about the Recovery Industrial Complex and the industry's rather self-perpetuating message that addiction is a chronic illness, which requires not only eternal vigilance but also eternal treatment that rehab facilities are only too happy to provide for a hefty fee.

My own experience with rehab was positive, as far as it went, even though it was very much predicated on the disease model of treatment. It was pointedly not based on the precepts of AA, higher powers, or the antiquated writings of Bill Wilson -- which was a huge relief -- but it did push graduates of the program into AA, or the far better (IMO) SMART Recovery, but I can't really fault them for this; what else is there? 

It was also very expensive. I could never have afforded it without the cadillac healthcare coverage I had at the time. And its costs were nothing compared to the soaring fees of the opulent spas in exotic destinations where the beautiful people go to dry out. 

Anyway, I found the ideas being put forward by the Baldwin people thought provoking and challenging to the widely held assumptions surrounding addiction. I haven't spent enough time there yet to know what I agree or disagree with, but I find data driven arguments hard to argue with. Hit the links above if you're so inclined, and let me know what you think.

Smile!

Someone pointed out it’s World Smile Day. 

Well THAT was disturbing...

Look, call me a snowflake, but when the erstwhile leader of the free world poses for a cryptic photo op with his senior military officials, while also escalating a twitter war with North Korea, it makes one more than a little nervous. 

And what's with the creepy game-show suspense building? 

When asked again what he meant, Trump said only: "You'll find out."

You'll find out? YOU'LL FIND OUT...!?