I've never understood what some people find so appealing about sobriety. Former First Idiot Fubar W. Bush was one of the most annoying and disastrous dry drunks I've ever had the displeasure of watching work his mojo for eight goddamned years.
Alfred Jarry was never sober, preferring a regimen of ether and absinthe in prescribed doses that he calculated at age 14 would end his ludicrous life on the Feast of St. Mary's at the same age Jesus the Fisher King was when he committed disciple-assisted suicide.
When I went through detox and revised the Serenity Prayer because I'm also an editor, I had a sponsor that helped me through the process by explaining that getting sober doesn't fix anything. "A fucking homicidal maniac," he said, "is still a fucking homicidal maniac after he gets sober. He just has a better ability to focus, which makes him twice as dangerous."
Jarry suggests that God created alcohol to give humans the opportunity to go to war with water, which is the lowliest of solvents, a substance routinely used to wash one's dishes and flush one's shit through the pipes into the once pristine rivers that God created for Man to despoil with his presence. Alcohol and drug abuse, most pataphysicians agree, is all that separates men from beasts.
But for now I have to limit my psychotropic ingestion while my foot continues to heal, which makes me long for the day when I can fall face first into a pool of my own vomit outside the White House while trying to crash a diplomatic get-together.
By the way, I sure hope Nike isn't going to sue me for have swoosh bruises on both sides of the heel.