It was the same when I complained about all the gaps between my teeth. “I had braces when I was young, but maybe I need them again,” I told her. An American dentist would have referred me to an orthodontist, but, to Dr. Barras, I was being hysterical. “You have what we in France call ‘good-time teeth,’ ” she said. “Why on earth would you want to change them?”
“Um, because I can floss with the sash to my bathrobe?”
“Hey,” she said. “Enough with the flossing. You have better ways to spend your evenings.”
Love me some Sedaris, always.
Like Tibetan neighborhoods all over Western China, Wuhouci is chock-a-block with shop fronts selling gold-colored Buddhist prayer wheels as big as oil drums, intricately carved altars, and beatific bronze Buddhas, all permeated with the languid aroma of juniper incense. But the Tibetan residents—women wearing brightly striped aprons, husky men in sunglasses and funky cowboy hats—seem strangely sullen and few in number. Instead, the streets are dominated by public security vehicles with lights flashing, and black-clad police patrols in flak jackets. “Any cars coming from Lhasa are immediately stopped and searched,” says one local, “What have we done to deserve this?”
Television saw the comedy in drunkenness long before it saw the tragedy. From Shakespeare’s Falstaff to Mark Twain’s Pap Finn, the “town drunk” has been a source of amuse, ridicule, and scorn for centuries—and the small screen was once no different. Television’s greatest early example is The Andy Griffith Show’s Otis Campbell—a man described by Barney Fife as “smashed, buzzed, tiddly, gassed, off the wagon and back on the sauce, or just plain drunk.” Otis’ drunkenness was the one-note source of a thousand jokes over the series’ 249-episode, seven-year run, until its finale in 1967.
But as The Andy Griffith Show was ending, public perception of alcoholism was beginning to change. In 1973, Alcoholics Anonymous referred to alcoholism as a “disease” in its official literature for the first time. The American Psychiatric Association followed suit in 1980, dividing what was formerly called “alcoholism” into two categories: alcohol abuse “repeated use despite recurrent adverse consequences” and alcohol dependence alcohol abuse “combined with tolerance, withdrawal, and an uncontrollable drive to drink”. As the American public got used to the idea that alcoholism was an actual disease, alcoholics gained widespread sympathy and support. Cultural attitudes about alcohol abuse had changed enough that by the release of 1986’s TV movie sequel to The Andy Griffith Show, Return to Mayberry, Otis had sobered up and taken a steady job as town’s ice cream man.
America’s internal conflict about alcohol use is best summed up, appropriately enough, by Homer Simpson, who once called beer “the cause of—and solution to—all of life’s problems.” As both doctors and the American public as a whole have begun to take alcoholism more seriously, TV has walked an uneasy line, alternately playing up the comedy of alcohol use and the tragedy of alcohol abuse. Critiques continue today; in a 2010 article for the New York Times, critic Alessandra Stanley argued that “television has a drinking problem,” saying that contemporary depictions of alcohol use on TV create “a conflicted, all-or-nothing portrait that isn’t realistic” but is rather an example of “the American love-hate relationship with liquor—all or Prohibition.”
Very interesting article. Recommend.
The LAPD confirms that the 47-year old victim had a wound to her neck inflicted by a chainsaw.
Police found a note near the victim’s body, and believe the death may have been a suicide.
The L.A. County coroner will make an official determination.
JEEEEEEEEEZ x 100000. If this is true, that woman was NOT kidding around about wanting to die. My god. Poor lady.
via I love blood..