Dennis Burt después de beber demasiado

Dennis Burt después de beber demasiado

Dennis Burt después de beber demasiado

Imagen de la colección de Dennis Burt

Título original: Década de 1940 Demasiado para beber

Derechos de autor Gary Burt 2013

Muchas gracias a Gary por proporcionarnos estas fotos de la colección de su padre.


Sipowicz era un detective de la policía de la ciudad de Nueva York que trabajaba en el escuadrón de detectives del ficticio distrito 15 de la policía de Nueva York, ubicado en el lado este de Manhattan. [4] Fue un personaje importante del programa durante sus doce años de ejecución, y el único que ha sido un miembro regular del reparto en cada episodio. (El detective Greg Medavoy (Gordon Clapp) no apareció hasta el episodio 3 de la primera temporada y no se convirtió en un habitual hasta el comienzo de la temporada 2.)

En octubre de 2018, los creadores Jesse Bochco, Matt Olmstead y Nick Wootton revelaron que el piloto de un NYPD Azul La secuela estaba en producción. [5] La secuela se centrará en el hijo de Andy Sipowicz, Theo, quien se ha unido al departamento de policía y gana el ascenso a detective mientras intenta resolver el asesinato de su padre. [5]

Jason Gay de El Boston Phoenix describió a Sipowicz como un "matón racista borracho con un corazón de oro" que era "el núcleo moral" de NYPD Azul. En 1997, describió a Sipowicz como alguien que "se puso sobrio", pero dijo que Sipowicz "nunca se volverá totalmente blando". Gay describe a Dennis Franz agregando "una mezcla subestimada y vanguardista de determinación y sensibilidad" a Sipowicz. [6]

Según un episodio de la segunda temporada emitido en 1995, Sipowicz estaba a punto de celebrar su 47 cumpleaños el 7 de abril, lo que implica que nació en 1948. Es de Brooklyn, donde su padre, un veterano de la Segunda Guerra Mundial de ascendencia polaco-estadounidense que trabajó como lector de medidores para ConEd, originalmente crió a la familia en una vivienda temporal de Quonset. En algún momento a mediados de la década de 1950, el padre de Andy trasladó a la familia a un nuevo proyecto de viviendas, en su mayoría de blancos, en el que pudo comprar un apartamento con subsidio federal. Posteriormente, el vecindario se volvió más diverso y un joven Andy estaba frecuentemente en conflicto verbal y físico con sus compañeros negros. Andy trabajaba en una tienda de dulces local cuando era niño, y luego regresó en condiciones tristes cuando un hijo de los dueños de la tienda organizó un robo que llevó a la muerte de su madre. Su padre era un alcohólico cuya embriaguez frecuente le costó su trabajo como lector de medidores. Desafiante regresó para terminar su ruta después del anochecer, pero fue golpeado en la cabeza con un martillo por un hombre negro que lo confundió con un ladrón, causándole la pérdida de un ojo. Afirmó que el hombre negro había intentado robarle. Andy creció escuchando la historia, que fue la base de su racismo. En la temporada 6, sin embargo, se da cuenta de que su padre estaba mintiendo sobre las circunstancias del incidente y comienza a cuestionar los valores con los que fue criado.

Antes de convertirse en policía, Sipowicz sirvió en la Infantería de Marina de los Estados Unidos, incluida una gira de 18 meses en Vietnam a partir de 1968 de la que no habló mucho, aunque es un tema subyacente en el programa. Una vez se enfureció cuando un detestable compañero policía llamado Sgt. Ray Kahlins, también un veterano de Vietnam, mintió sobre estar en combate y le dijo a Kahlins que podía mentir hasta el contenido de su corazón sobre cualquier otra cosa, pero no sobre su servicio en la Guerra de Vietnam. En 1970, [7] se unió a la policía de Nueva York "desde Nam" (como se menciona en el episodio 4 de la temporada 4). Mientras estaba en uniforme, Sipowicz se asoció con Kurt Kreizer y sirvió bajo las órdenes de Al Angelotti, entonces sargento, en el distrito 25. Una de sus primeras asignaciones policiales fue infiltrarse en la organización Black Panthers y hacerse pasar por un radical de izquierda blanco. Estos eventos acentuaron sus tendencias racistas que ya se estaban desarrollando.

En 1979, Sipowicz recibió el escudo de oro de Detective de tercer grado (el rango "principiante") y trabajó brevemente en el Escuadrón de Robos en el Precinto 28 junto a John Clark Sr., antes de transferirse como detective al 15, donde trabajó anteriormente. como oficial uniformado [8] Fue ascendido a segundo grado en un momento desconocido antes del inicio de la serie en el otoño de 1993, y fue ascendido a primer grado a finales de 2001.

Al igual que muchos personajes de televisión en programas policiales ambientados en Nueva York, Sipowicz aprovecha una regulación de la policía de Nueva York que permite a los oficiales que estaban en la fuerza antes de 1993 llevar un revólver Smith & amp Wesson Modelo 36 de cinco disparos calibre .38 como arma principal. Los policías que fueron contratados en 1993 o más tarde utilizan uno de los tres modelos de pistolas semiautomáticas de 9 mm. Esto se refleja con precisión en las representaciones de los colegas más jóvenes de Sipowicz.

Según la información revelada en varios episodios citados anteriormente, la línea de tiempo de la carrera de Sipowicz se puede ensamblar con bastante precisión:

  • 1948 - Nacido en Brooklyn, NY
  • 1966 - Reclutado en los Marines de EE. UU.
  • 1967 - Comienza la gira de 18 meses en servicio activo en Vietnam
  • 1969 - Regresa a Nueva York y se inscribe en la policía. Como aprendiz contra el crimen, se le asigna inmediatamente para infiltrarse encubierto en los Panteras Negras como un radical blanco.
  • 1970 - Completa la academia de policía y comienza el trabajo policial uniformado normal en el distrito 25 de Manhattan.
  • 1972 - Se casa con Katie, empleada de oficina de toda la vida en AT & ampT / NYNEX.
  • 1973 - Nacimiento de Andy Jr. En la autoestima posterior de Andy, su alcoholismo se convirtió por primera vez en un problema activo en este año.
  • 1977 - Reasignado al distrito 15
  • Principios de 1979 - Obtiene un ascenso a Detective de tercer grado y es asignado al Escuadrón de Robos que trabaja en el distrito 28 y tiene una serie de malas interacciones con su colega John Clark Sr.
  • Finales de 1979 - Transferencias al 15 ° Escuadrón de Detectives con investigaciones de homicidio como responsabilidad principal en asociación con Joe Brockhurst.
  • 1983 - Debido a los efectos de su creciente alcoholismo, se divorcia de Katie y ya no tiene contacto con Andy Jr. durante los siguientes ocho años.
  • Mediados de los 80: gana el ascenso a detective de segundo grado
  • 1986 - Comienza la asociación con John Kelly
  • 1990 - Un breve intento de reavivar una relación con Andy Jr. no funciona. Katie y Andy Jr. se mudan a un apartamento en el norte de Nueva Jersey y no tienen contacto personal con Andy durante otros tres años.
  • 1992 - Se le asigna un nuevo superior directo, el teniente Arthur Fancy. La primera vez que Sipowicz trabaja con un jefe afroamericano y un jefe que no mira para otro lado en su forma de beber.
  • Otoño de 1993 - Casi muere después de que Alphonse Giardello le disparara y le diera un ultimátum para cambiar su comportamiento o ser obligado a salir del departamento de policía por el teniente Fancy deja de beber se reconcilia con Andy Jr.
  • Otoño de 1994: Andy comienza a asistir a reuniones formales de Alcohólicos Anónimos. John Kelly se vio obligado a dejar el departamento Andy se asoció con Bobby Simone
  • Primavera de 1995 - Se casa con Sylvia Costas
  • Primavera de 1996 - Nacimiento de Theo muerte de Andy Jr., Andy recae por segunda y última vez desde que comenzó la recuperación en 1993 y desde este momento no usa alcohol por el resto de su vida.
  • Primera semana de diciembre de 1998 - Muerte de Bobby
  • Enero de 1999: Andy se asoció con Danny Sorenson.
  • Primavera de 1999 - Muerte de Sylvia
  • Verano de 2001 - Desaparición de Danny (luego se reveló que había sido asesinado) Andy se asoció con John Clark Jr.
  • Otoño de 2001: ascenso a detective de primer grado
  • Primavera de 2003 - Se muda con Connie McDowell y adopta a la sobrina biológica de Connie, Michelle.
  • Otoño de 2003 - Se casa con Connie
  • Primavera de 2004 - Nacimiento del cuarto hijo de Connie de Andy, el tercer hijo biológico y el segundo hijo biológico superviviente, Matthew
  • Primavera de 2005: ascendido a sargento y puesto al mando del 15 ° escuadrón de detectives, expresa su intención de permanecer en este puesto hasta su jubilación planificada en 2010.

En la primera temporada de NYPD Azul, El socio de Sipowicz es John Kelly, quien deja la policía en 1994 después de retener evidencia en una investigación de asesinato de su amante Janice Licalsi. Después de la renuncia de Kelly, Bobby Simone se convierte en socio de Sipowicz. Pronto se convierten en mejores amigos. Sipowicz queda devastado cuando Simone muere de una infección cardíaca. En 1994, Andy comienza a salir con la asistente del fiscal de distrito Sylvia Costas, con quien previamente se enfrentó debido a diferencias profesionales (Sipowicz la llama una "pequeña perra enojada" en el episodio piloto). Se casan en 1995 y tienen un hijo, Theo, en 1996.

Andy estuvo casado con Katie Sipowicz durante 11 años y tuvieron un hijo, Andy Jr. (nacido en 1973). Sin embargo, en 1993 tanto su ex esposa como su hijo se separaron de él debido a su consumo excesivo de alcohol, y su trabajo está perpetuamente en peligro debido a los efectos de su alcoholismo y sus actitudes intolerantes cada vez más anticuadas. En la primavera de 1992 [9], el equipo 15, donde Sipowicz ha sido detective durante poco más de 12 años, recibe un nuevo comandante, el teniente afroamericano Arthur Fancy, que tiene poca paciencia con el racismo de Sipowicz, sus hábitos personales descuidados. y tendencias rebeldes. En el episodio piloto del programa, después de recibir seis disparos en una emboscada de un mafioso llamado Alphonse Giardella y casi morir, Sipowicz decide cambiar su vida. Deja de beber, se concentra en el trabajo y reconstruye la relación con su hijo. Fancy declara abiertamente que estaba preparado para que Sipowicz fuera retirado de la fuerza el día de su tiroteo y solo le da otra oportunidad, comenzando con tareas de escritorio restringidas, debido al incidente.

En su camino para convertirse en un mejor hombre, Sipowicz lucha por superar su intolerancia con la ayuda de su compañero Bobby Simone, él y Fancy continúan teniendo problemas pero siempre los resuelven. También finalmente acepta su homofobia, principalmente debido a su amistad inicialmente a regañadientes con el asistente administrativo de la policía del distrito, John Irvin. Con el nacimiento de su segundo hijo, la vida de Sipowicz parece ir bien. Sin embargo, surgen una serie de devastadoras tragedias personales en los próximos años: en mayo de 1996, Andy Jr., que está a punto de comenzar a trabajar como policía en Hackensack, Nueva Jersey, es asesinado a tiros mientras intentaba detener un robo. El tiroteo envía a Andy Sr. a una recaída alcohólica, durante la cual Sylvia lo echa brevemente de la casa. En noviembre de 1998, Bobby Simone muere de una infección causada por complicaciones del trasplante de corazón, y menos de un año después, en mayo de 1999, Sylvia es asesinada accidentalmente por el angustiado padre de la PAA Dolores Mayo (cuyo asesino había estado procesando) fuera de la sala del tribunal. A esto le sigue la desaparición y posterior asesinato del sucesor de Simone, Danny Sorenson, durante una misión encubierta en 2001. También sobrevive a un grave ataque de cáncer de próstata en 1998. Sin embargo, con la excepción de la muerte de Andy Jr., Sipowicz permanece sobrio. ante todas estas tragedias. También tiene que lidiar con el hecho de que había jugado un papel decisivo en poner en prisión a un hombre negro inocente durante 18 años por el asesinato de un adolescente, recordando que no tenía experiencia como detective y se lo confió a un policía veterano perezoso. Es el único policía que se disculpa cuando el hombre es liberado (se entera de que el perpetrador era un hombre blanco que luego murió de una sobredosis de drogas, y aunque Sipowicz y el policía veterano ahora retirado básicamente sabían que había sido asesinado, el final resultado del caso quedó sin resolver).

En 2003, Sipowicz se casa por tercera vez, esta vez con una compañera detective llamada Connie McDowell, que se había unido recientemente al equipo. El año anterior, la hermana embarazada de Connie es asesinada por su marido abusivo. El bebé sobrevive, por lo que Connie y Sipowicz toman la custodia de la niña y la llaman Michelle, en honor a su madre. Poco después, Connie, que había creído que no podía tener hijos debido a las cicatrices de sus trompas de Falopio, queda embarazada y da a luz a un bebé llamado Matthew. Con dos bebés que criar, Connie renuncia a la fuerza policial para ser una madre que se queda en casa. Más tarde ese año, Sipowicz supera un choque de personalidad con el nuevo teniente Thomas Bale, es ascendido a sargento y persuade a un jefe de detectives reacio para que lo nombre el nuevo comandante de escuadrón.

En 1999, guía de televisión lo clasificó en el puesto 23 en su lista de los 50 personajes de televisión más grandes de todos los tiempos. [10]


¿Qué es el dolor de pecho por resaca?

El dolor de pecho severo después de beber alcohol se puede atribuir a numerosas causas. Muchos podrían considerar los dolores de pecho después de beber alcohol como una complicación de la ingesta de alcohol. El hecho es que el alcohol podría ser un desencadenante de una enfermedad predominante en la clandestinidad. El dolor de la parte superior del cuerpo por resaca generalmente se puede definir como cualquier forma de dolor que se experimenta en el pecho después de rondas de bebidas alcohólicas. Ya sea que el dolor se experimente unas horas después de beber o después de una resaca de 2 días, sigue siendo una amenaza para la salud. Echemos un vistazo a las causas probables.


Lectura recomendada

La irracionalidad de alcohólicos anónimos

Cómo la crianza en helicóptero puede causar borracheras

Cómo Disney manejó mal el Guerra de las Galaxias Universo

Pero incluso suponiendo que esta historia de la selección natural sea correcta, no explica por qué, 10 millones de años después, me gusta tanto el vino. "Debería desconcertarnos más de lo que nos hace", escribe Edward Slingerland en su nuevo y amplio y provocativo libro, Borracho: cómo bebimos, bailamos y tropezamos en nuestro camino hacia la civilización, "Que uno de los mayores focos del ingenio humano y el esfuerzo concentrado durante los últimos milenios ha sido el problema de cómo emborracharse". El daño causado por el alcohol es profundo: deterioro cognitivo y de las habilidades motoras, beligerancia, lesiones y vulnerabilidad a todo tipo de depredación a corto plazo, daños en el hígado y el cerebro, disfunción, adicción y muerte prematura a medida que se acumulan años de consumo excesivo de alcohol. A medida que disminuyó la importancia del alcohol como un recurso calórico, ¿por qué la evolución no nos alejó finalmente de la bebida, por ejemplo, favoreciendo los genotipos asociados con el odio al sabor del alcohol? Eso no sugiere que los daños del alcohol fueran, a largo plazo, superados por algunas ventajas importantes.

Las versiones de esta idea han surgido recientemente en conferencias académicas y en revistas y antologías académicas (en gran parte para el crédito del antropólogo británico Robin Dunbar). Borracho Sintetiza útilmente la literatura, luego subraya su implicación más radical: los humanos no están construidos simplemente para emocionarse, ser emocionados ayudó a los humanos a construir la civilización. Slingerland no ignora el lado oscuro del alcohol, y su exploración de cuándo y por qué sus daños superan a sus beneficios inquietará a algunos bebedores estadounidenses. Aún así, describe el libro como "una defensa integral del alcohol". Y anuncia, desde el principio, que "podría ser bueno para nosotros atarnos uno de vez en cuando".

Slingerland es un profesor de la Universidad de Columbia Británica que, durante la mayor parte de su carrera, se ha especializado en la religión y la filosofía de la antigua China. En una conversación de esta primavera, comenté que me parecía extraño que acabara de dedicar varios años de su vida a un tema que estaba tan lejos de su timonera. Respondió que el alcohol no es una desviación de su especialidad que podría parecer, ya que recientemente ha llegado a ver cosas, la intoxicación y la religión son acertijos paralelos, interesantes por razones muy similares. Ya en su trabajo de posgrado en Stanford en la década de 1990, le había parecido extraño que en todas las culturas y períodos de tiempo, los humanos hicieran todo lo posible (y con frecuencia doloroso y costoso) para complacer a los seres invisibles.

En 2012, Slingerland y varios académicos en otros campos obtuvieron una gran subvención para estudiar religión desde una perspectiva evolutiva. En los años posteriores, han argumentado que la religión ayudó a los humanos a cooperar en una escala mucho mayor que la que tenían como cazadores-recolectores. La creencia en dioses moralistas y punitivos, por ejemplo, podría haber desalentado comportamientos (robar, decir o asesinar) que dificultan la coexistencia pacífica. A su vez, los grupos con tales creencias habrían tenido una mayor solidaridad, lo que les habría permitido superar o absorber a otros grupos.

Casi al mismo tiempo, Slingerland publicó un libro de autoayuda con un gran contenido de ciencias sociales llamado Tratando de no intentarlo. En él, argumentó que el antiguo concepto taoísta de wu-wei (similar a lo que ahora llamamos "fluir") podría ayudar tanto con las demandas de la vida moderna como con el desafío más eterno de tratar con otras personas. Los intoxicantes, señaló de pasada, ofrecen un atajo químico para wu-wei—Al suprimir nuestra mente consciente, pueden dar rienda suelta a la creatividad y también hacernos más sociables.

En una charla que luego dio wu-wei en Google, Slingerland hizo lo mismo sobre la intoxicación. Durante la sesión de preguntas y respuestas, alguien del público le contó sobre Ballmer Peak, la idea, que lleva el nombre del ex director ejecutivo de Microsoft, Steve Ballmer, de que el alcohol puede afectar la capacidad de programación. Beba una cierta cantidad y mejorará. Bebe demasiado y se irá al infierno. Se rumorea que algunos programadores se conectan a goteros intravenosos llenos de alcohol con la esperanza de estar suspendidos en la cúspide de la curva durante un tiempo prolongado.

Más tarde, sus anfitriones lo llevaron a la "sala de whisky", un salón con una mesa de futbolín y lo que Slingerland me describió como "una colección increíble de escoceses de malta". El salón estaba allí, dijeron, para proporcionar inspiración líquida a los codificadores que habían chocado contra una pared creativa. Los ingenieros podían servirse un whisky, sentarse en un sillón y charlar con cualquier otra persona que estuviera cerca. Dijeron que hacerlo les ayudó a despegarse mentalmente, a colaborar, a notar nuevas conexiones. En ese momento, algo hizo clic para Slingerland también: "Empecé a pensar, El alcohol es realmente una herramienta cultural muy útil.. " Tanto sus lubricaciones sociales y sus aspectos potenciadores de la creatividad podrían desempeñar un papel real en la sociedad humana, reflexionó, y posiblemente podrían haber estado involucrados en su formación.

Se dio cuenta tardíamente de cuánto había transformado su vida profesional la llegada de un pub unos años antes al campus de la UBC. “Empezamos a reunirnos allí los viernes, de camino a casa”, me dijo. "Psicólogos, economistas, arqueólogos, no teníamos nada en común, disparaban la mierda con unas cervezas". Las bebidas proporcionaron la desinhibición suficiente para que la conversación fluyera. Se desarrolló un fascinante conjunto de intercambios sobre religión. Sin ellos, Slingerland duda de que hubiera comenzado a explorar las funciones evolutivas de la religión, y mucho menos de haber escrito Borracho.

¿Qué fue primero, el pan o la cerveza? Durante mucho tiempo, la mayoría de los arqueólogos asumieron que el hambre de pan era lo que hacía que la gente se estableciera, cooperara y tuviera una revolución agrícola. En esta versión de los hechos, el descubrimiento de la elaboración de cerveza llegó más tarde, una ventaja inesperada. Pero últimamente, más académicos han comenzado a tomarse en serio la posibilidad de que la cerveza nos uniera. (Aunque cerveza puede que no sea exactamente la palabra. El alcohol prehistórico habría sido más como una sopa fermentada de lo que estuviera creciendo cerca).

Durante los últimos 25 años, los arqueólogos han estado trabajando para descubrir las ruinas de Göbekli Tepe, un templo en el este de Turquía. Su origen se remonta al año 10.000 a. C., por lo que tiene el doble de antigüedad que Stonehenge. Está hecho de enormes losas de roca que habrían requerido cientos de personas para transportarlas desde una cantera cercana. Por lo que los arqueólogos pueden decir, nadie vivía allí. Nadie cultivaba allí. Lo que la gente hacía allí era fiesta. "Los restos de lo que parecen ser cubas de elaboración de cerveza, combinados con imágenes de festivales y bailes, sugieren que las personas se estaban reuniendo en grupos, fermentando granos o uvas", escribe Slingerland, "y luego realmente se machacaban".

A lo largo de las décadas, los científicos han propuesto muchas teorías sobre por qué todavía bebemos alcohol, a pesar de sus daños y a pesar de que han pasado millones de años desde que nuestros antepasados ​​hurgaron en estado de embriaguez. Algunos sugieren que debe haber tenido algún propósito provisional desde entonces. (Por ejemplo, quizás era más seguro beber que el agua sin tratar; la fermentación mata los patógenos). Slingerland cuestiona la mayoría de estas explicaciones. Hervir agua es más sencillo que hacer cerveza, por ejemplo.

Göbekli Tepe, y otros hallazgos arqueológicos que indican un consumo de alcohol muy temprano, nos acercan a una explicación satisfactoria. La arquitectura del sitio nos permite visualizar vívidamente el papel magnético que el alcohol pudo haber jugado para los pueblos prehistóricos. Como Slingerland lo imagina, la promesa de comida y bebida habría atraído a cazadores-recolectores de todas las direcciones, en números lo suficientemente grandes como para mover pilares gigantes. Una vez construido, tanto el templo como las juergas que albergaba habrían otorgado autoridad a los organizadores y a los participantes un sentido de comunidad. "Las fiestas periódicas alimentadas con alcohol", escribe, "sirvieron como una especie de 'pegamento' que unió la cultura que creó Göbekli Tepe".

Probablemente las cosas fueran más complicadas que eso. La coerción, no solo la cooperación ebria, probablemente jugó un papel en la construcción de los primeros sitios arquitectónicos y en el mantenimiento del orden en las sociedades primitivas. Aún así, la cohesión habría sido esencial, y este es el núcleo del argumento de Slingerland: la vinculación es necesaria para la sociedad humana, y el alcohol ha sido un medio esencial de nuestra vinculación. Compáranos con nuestros competitivos y rebeldes primos chimpancés. Colocar a cientos de chimpancés sin parentesco en espacios reducidos durante varias horas resultaría en "sangre y partes del cuerpo desmembradas", señala Slingerland, no una fiesta con baile y definitivamente no un transporte colaborativo de piedras. La civilización humana requiere "creatividad individual y colectiva, cooperación intensiva, tolerancia hacia los extraños y las multitudes, y un grado de apertura y confianza que no tiene parangón entre nuestros parientes primates más cercanos". Requiere que no solo nos aguantemos unos a otros, sino que nos convirtamos en aliados y amigos.

En cuanto a cómo el alcohol ayuda con ese proceso, Slingerland se enfoca principalmente en la supresión de la actividad de la corteza prefrontal y en cómo la desinhibición resultante puede permitirnos alcanzar un estado más lúdico, de confianza e infantil. Otros beneficios sociales importantes pueden derivarse de las endorfinas, que tienen un papel clave en la vinculación social. Como muchas cosas que unen a los seres humanos (risa, baile, canto, narración de cuentos, sexo, rituales religiosos), la bebida desencadena su liberación. Slingerland observa un círculo virtuoso aquí: el alcohol no solo desencadena una avalancha de endorfinas que promueven la unión al reducir nuestras inhibiciones, sino que nos impulsa a hacer otras cosas que desencadenan endorfinas y unión.

Con el tiempo, los grupos que bebían juntos se habrían unido y florecido, dominando a grupos más pequeños, al igual que los que oraban juntos. Momentos de creatividad un poco animada y la posterior innovación podrían haberles dado una ventaja aún mayor. Al final, dice la teoría, las tribus borrachas golpean a las sobrias.

Pero esta historia color de rosa sobre cómo el alcohol hizo más amistades y una civilización avanzada viene con dos asteriscos enormes: todo eso fue antes de la llegada del licor y antes de que los humanos comenzaran a beber solos con regularidad.

Fotografía de Chelsea Kyle Estilista de utilería: Amy Elise Wilson Estilista gastronómica: Sue Li

Los primeros griegos diluyeron su vino bebiéndolo con toda su fuerza, creían que era bárbaro: una receta para el caos y la violencia. “Se habrían sentido absolutamente horrorizados por el potencial de caos contenido en una botella de brandy”, escribe Slingerland. Los seres humanos, señala, “son simios hechos para beber, pero no vodka 100%. Tampoco estamos bien equipados para controlar nuestro consumo de alcohol sin ayuda social ".

El alcohol destilado es reciente (se generalizó en China en el siglo XIII y en Europa entre los siglos XVI y XVIII) y es una bestia diferente de lo que vino antes. Las uvas caídas que han fermentado en el suelo contienen aproximadamente un 3 por ciento de alcohol por volumen. La cerveza y el vino corren alrededor del 5 y el 11 por ciento, respectivamente. En estos niveles, a menos que las personas se esfuercen enérgicamente, rara vez logran beber lo suficiente como para desmayarse, y mucho menos morir. El licor moderno, sin embargo, tiene entre un 40 y un 50 por ciento de alcohol por volumen, lo que hace que sea fácil pasar de un zumbido social agradable a todo tipo de trágicos resultados.

Justo cuando la gente estaba aprendiendo a amar su ginebra y whisky, más de ellos (especialmente en partes de Europa y América del Norte) comenzaron a beber fuera de las comidas familiares y reuniones sociales. A medida que avanzaba la Revolución Industrial, el consumo de alcohol se volvió menos pausado. Los establecimientos de bebidas de repente comenzaron a presentar los largos mostradores que asociamos con la palabra bar hoy en día, lo que permite a las personas beber sobre la marcha, en lugar de estar alrededor de una mesa con otros bebedores. Este breve movimiento a través del bar refleja una ruptura bastante dramática con la tradición: según los antropólogos, en casi todas las épocas y sociedades, beber en solitario había sido casi inaudito entre los humanos.

El contexto social de la bebida resulta ser muy importante para la forma en que el alcohol nos afecta psicológicamente. Aunque tendemos a pensar que el alcohol reduce la ansiedad, no lo hace de manera uniforme. Como Michael Sayette, un investigador líder en alcohol de la Universidad de Pittsburgh, me dijo recientemente, si empaqueta el alcohol como un suero ansiolítico y lo envía a la FDA, nunca sería aprobado. Él y su ex estudiante de posgrado Kasey Creswell, un profesor de Carnegie Mellon que estudia la bebida en solitario, han llegado a creer que una clave para comprender los efectos desiguales de la bebida puede ser la presencia de otras personas. Después de haber examinado décadas de literatura, Creswell informa que en los raros experimentos que han comparado el consumo social y solitario del alcohol, beber con otros tiende a provocar alegría e incluso euforia, mientras que beber solo no provoca ninguno, si acaso, los bebedores solitarios se deprimen más. mientras beben.

Sayette, por su parte, ha pasado gran parte de los últimos 20 años tratando de llegar al fondo de una pregunta relacionada: por qué la bebida social puede ser tan gratificante. En un estudio de 2012, él y Creswell dividieron a 720 extraños en grupos, luego sirvieron a algunos grupos cócteles de vodka y a otros grupos cócteles sin alcohol. En comparación con las personas a las que se les sirvieron bebidas sin alcohol, los bebedores parecían significativamente más felices, según una serie de medidas objetivas. Quizás lo más importante es que vibraban entre sí de formas distintas. Experimentaron lo que Sayette llama “momentos dorados”, sonriendo genuina y simultáneamente el uno al otro. Sus conversaciones fluían más fácilmente y su felicidad parecía contagiosa. El alcohol, en otras palabras, les ayudó a disfrutar más el uno del otro.

Esta investigación también podría arrojar luz sobre otro misterio: por qué, en una serie de encuestas a gran escala, las personas que beben de forma ligera o moderada son más felices y psicológicamente más saludables que las que se abstienen. Robin Dunbar, el antropólogo, examinó esta cuestión directamente en un gran estudio de adultos británicos y sus hábitos de bebida. Él informa que quienes visitan los pubs con regularidad son más felices y más realizados que quienes no lo hacen, no porque beban, sino porque tienen más amigos. Y demuestra que, por lo general, es el ir al pub lo que lleva a más amigos, y no al revés. La bebida social también puede causar problemas, por supuesto, y encaminar a las personas hacia el trastorno por consumo de alcohol. (La investigación de Sayette se centra en parte en cómo sucede eso y por qué algunos extrovertidos, por ejemplo, pueden encontrar los beneficios sociales del alcohol especialmente difíciles de resistir). Pero beber en solitario, incluso con la familia en algún lugar de fondo, es especialmente pernicioso porque sirve todos los riesgos del alcohol sin ninguno de sus beneficios sociales. Divorciado de las rutinas compartidas de la vida, beber se convierte en algo parecido a un escape de la vida.

La cultura de bebida saludable del sur de Europa no es noticia, pero sus atributos son lo suficientemente sorprendentes como para que valga la pena volver a visitarlos: a pesar del consumo generalizado de alcohol, Italia tiene algunas de las tasas de alcoholismo más bajas del mundo. Sus residentes beben principalmente vino y cerveza, y casi exclusivamente durante las comidas con otras personas. Cuando se consume licor, generalmente es en pequeñas cantidades, ya sea justo antes o después de una comida. El alcohol se considera un alimento, no una droga. Se desaconseja beber para emborracharse, al igual que beber solo. La forma en que beben los italianos hoy en día puede que no sea exactamente la forma en que bebían las personas premodernas, pero también acentúa los beneficios del alcohol y ayuda a limitar sus daños. También, me dijo Slingerland, es lo más lejos que se puede llegar de la forma en que mucha gente bebe en los Estados Unidos.

Es posible que los estadounidenses no hayan inventado el consumo excesivo de alcohol, pero tenemos una sólida afirmación de que el consumo excesivo de alcohol solo es algo casi inaudito en el Viejo Mundo. A principios del siglo XIX, los atracones solitarios se volvieron lo suficientemente comunes como para necesitar un nombre, por lo que los estadounidenses comenzaron a llamarlos "juergas" o "travesuras", palabras que suenan mucho más felices que los dobladores solitarios de uno a tres días que describieron.

En su historia de 1979, La República Alcohólica, el historiador W. J. Rorabaugh calculó minuciosamente la asombrosa cantidad de alcohol que los primeros estadounidenses bebían a diario. En 1830, cuando el consumo de licor estadounidense alcanzó su máximo histórico, el adulto promedio consumía más de nueve galones de licor cada año. La mayor parte estaba en forma de whisky (que, gracias a los excedentes de cereales, a veces era más barato que la leche) y la mayor parte se bebía en casa. Y esto se sumó a la otra bebida favorita de los primeros estadounidenses, la sidra casera. Muchas personas, incluidos los niños, bebían sidra en cada comida que una familia podía pasar fácilmente por un barril a la semana. En resumen, los estadounidenses de principios del siglo XIX rara vez se encontraban en un estado que pudiera describirse como sobrio, y la mayor parte del tiempo bebían para emborracharse.

Rorabaugh argumentó que este anhelo de olvido resultó del ritmo de cambio casi sin precedentes de Estados Unidos entre 1790 y 1830. Gracias a la rápida migración hacia el oeste en los años anteriores a los ferrocarriles, canales y barcos de vapor, escribió, “más estadounidenses vivían en aislamiento e independencia que nunca antes. o desde ". En el Este, más densamente poblado, mientras tanto, las viejas jerarquías sociales se evaporaron, las ciudades se multiplicaron y la industrialización trastornó el mercado laboral, lo que provocó una profunda dislocación social y un desajuste entre las habilidades y los trabajos. Las epidemias resultantes de soledad y ansiedad, concluyó, llevaron a las personas a adormecer su dolor con alcohol.

El movimiento de templanza que despegó en las décadas siguientes fue una respuesta más racional (y multifacética) a todo esto de lo que tiende a parecer en el espejo retrovisor. En lugar de presionar por la prohibición total, muchos defensores apoyaron alguna combinación de moderación personal, prohibiciones de licor y regulación de aquellos que se beneficiaban del alcohol. La templanza tampoco era una obsesión peculiarmente estadounidense. Como muestra Mark Lawrence Schrad en su nuevo libro, Rompiendo la máquina de licor: una historia global de prohibición, las preocupaciones sobre el impacto del licor destilado eran internacionales: hasta dos docenas de países promulgaron alguna forma de prohibición.

Sin embargo, la versión que entró en vigor en 1920 en los Estados Unidos fue, con mucho, el enfoque más amplio adoptado por cualquier país, y el ejemplo más famoso del enfoque de todo o nada del alcohol que nos ha perseguido durante el siglo pasado. De hecho, la prohibición resultó en una reducción drástica del consumo de alcohol en los estadounidenses. En 1935, dos años después de la derogación, el consumo de alcohol per cápita era menos de la mitad de lo que había sido a principios de siglo. Las tasas de cirrosis también se habían desplomado y permanecerían muy por debajo de los niveles anteriores a la Prohibición durante décadas.

The temperance movement had an even more lasting result: It cleaved the country into tipplers and teetotalers. Drinkers were on average more educated and more affluent than nondrinkers, and also more likely to live in cities or on the coasts. Dry America, meanwhile, was more rural, more southern, more midwestern, more churchgoing, and less educated. To this day, it includes about a third of U.S. adults—a higher proportion of abstainers than in many other Western countries.

What’s more, as Christine Sismondo writes in America Walks Into a Bar, by kicking the party out of saloons, the Eighteenth Amendment had the effect of moving alcohol into the country’s living rooms, where it mostly remained. This is one reason that, even as drinking rates decreased overall, drinking among women became more socially acceptable. Public drinking establishments had long been dominated by men, but home was another matter—as were speakeasies, which tended to be more welcoming.

After Prohibition’s repeal, the alcohol industry refrained from aggressive marketing, especially of liquor. Nonetheless, drinking steadily ticked back up, hitting pre-Prohibition levels in the early ’70s, then surging past them. Around that time, most states lowered their drinking age from 21 to 18 (to follow the change in voting age)—just as the Baby Boomers, the biggest generation to date, were hitting their prime drinking years. For an illustration of what followed, I direct you to the film Dazed and Confused.

Drinking peaked in 1981, at which point—true to form—the country took a long look at the empty beer cans littering the lawn, and collectively recoiled. What followed has been described as an age of neo-temperance. Taxes on alcohol increased warning labels were added to containers. The drinking age went back up to 21, and penalties for drunk driving finally got serious. Awareness of fetal alcohol syndrome rose too—prompting a quintessentially American freak-out: Unlike in Europe, where pregnant women were reassured that light drinking remained safe, those in the U.S. were, and are, essentially warned that a drop of wine could ruin a baby’s life. By the late 1990s, the volume of alcohol consumed annually had declined by a fifth.

And then began the current lurch upward. Around the turn of the millennium, Americans said To hell with it and poured a second drink, and in almost every year since, we’ve drunk a bit more wine and a bit more liquor than the year before. ¿Pero por qué?

One answer is that we did what the alcohol industry was spending billions of dollars persuading us to do. In the ’90s, makers of distilled liquor ended their self-imposed ban on TV advertising. They also developed new products that might initiate nondrinkers (think sweet premixed drinks like Smirnoff Ice and Mike’s Hard Lemonade). Meanwhile, winemakers benefited from the idea, then in wide circulation and since challenged, that moderate wine consumption might be good for you physically. (As Iain Gately reports in Drink: A Cultural History of Alcohol, in the month after 60 minutos ran a widely viewed segment on the so-called French paradox—the notion that wine might explain low rates of heart disease in France—U.S. sales of red wine shot up 44 percent.)

But this doesn’t explain why Americans have been so receptive to the sales pitches. Some people have argued that our increased consumption is a response to various stressors that emerged over this period. (Gately, for example, proposes a 9/11 effect—he notes that in 2002, heavy drinking was up 10 percent over the previous year.) This seems closer to the truth. It also may help explain why women account for such a disproportionate share of the recent increase in drinking.

Throughout history, drinking has provided a social and psychological service. At a moment when friendships seem more attenuated than ever, maybe it can do so again.

Although both men and women commonly use alcohol to cope with stressful situations and negative feelings, research finds that women are substantially more likely to do so. And they’re much more apt to be sad and stressed out to begin with: Women are about twice as likely as men to suffer from depression or anxiety disorders—and their overall happiness has fallen substantially in recent decades.

In the 2013 book Her Best-Kept Secret, an exploration of the surge in female drinking, the journalist Gabrielle Glaser recalls noticing, early this century, that women around her were drinking more. Alcohol hadn’t been a big part of mom culture in the ’90s, when her first daughter was young—but by the time her younger children entered school, it was everywhere: “Mothers joked about bringing their flasks to Pasta Night. Flasks? I wondered, at the time. Wasn’t that like Gunsmoke? " (Her quip seems quaint today. A growing class of merchandise now helps women carry concealed alcohol: There are purses with secret pockets, and chunky bracelets that double as flasks, and—perhaps least likely of all to invite close investigation—flasks designed to look like tampons.)

Glaser notes that an earlier rise in women’s drinking, in the 1970s, followed increased female participation in the workforce—and with it the particular stresses of returning home, after work, to attend to the house or the children. She concludes that women are today using alcohol to quell the anxieties associated with “the breathtaking pace of modern economic and social change” as well as with “the loss of the social and family cohesion” enjoyed by previous generations. Almost all of the heavy-drinking women Glaser interviewed drank alone—the bottle of wine while cooking, the Baileys in the morning coffee, the Poland Spring bottle secretly filled with vodka. They did so not to feel good, but to take the edge off feeling bad.

Men still drink more than women, and of course no demographic group has a monopoly on either problem drinking or the stresses that can cause it. The shift in women’s drinking is particularly stark, but unhealthier forms of alcohol use appear to be proliferating in many groups. Even drinking in bars has become less social in recent years, or at least this was a common perception among about three dozen bartenders I surveyed while reporting this article. “I have a few regulars who play games on their phone,” one in San Francisco said, “and I have a standing order to just refill their beer when it’s empty. No eye contact or talking until they are ready to leave.” Striking up conversations with strangers has become almost taboo, many bartenders observed, especially among younger patrons. So why not just drink at home? Spending money to sit in a bar alone and not talk to anyone was, a bartender in Columbus, Ohio, said, an interesting case of “trying to avoid loneliness without actual togetherness.”

Last August, the beer manufacturer Busch launched a new product well timed to the problem of pandemic-era solitary drinking. Dog Brew is bone broth packaged as beer for your pet. “You’ll never drink alone again,” said news articles reporting its debut. It promptly sold out. As for human beverages, though beer sales were down in 2020, continuing their long decline, Americans drank more of everything else, especially spirits and (perhaps the loneliest-sounding drinks of all) premixed, single-serve cocktails, sales of which skyrocketed.

Not everyone consumed more alcohol during the pandemic. Even as some of us (especially women and parents) drank more frequently, others drank less often. But the drinking that increased was, almost definitionally, of the stuck-at-home, sad, too-anxious-to-sleep, can’t-bear-another-day-like-all-the-other-days variety—the kind that has a higher likelihood of setting us up for drinking problems down the line. The drinking that decreased was mostly the good, socially connecting kind. (Zoom drinking—with its not-so-happy hours and first dates doomed to digital purgatory—was neither anesthetizing nor particularly connecting, and deserves its own dreary category.)

As the pandemic eases, we may be nearing an inflection point. My inner optimist imagines a new world in which, reminded of how much we miss joy and fun and other people, we embrace all kinds of socially connecting activities, including eating and drinking together—while also forswearing unhealthy habits we may have acquired in isolation.

But my inner pessimist sees alcohol use continuing in its pandemic vein, more about coping than conviviality. Not all social drinking is good, of course maybe some of it should wane, too (for example, some employers have recently banned alcohol from work events because of concerns about its role in unwanted sexual advances and worse). And yet, if we use alcohol more and more as a private drug, we’ll enjoy fewer of its social benefits, and get a bigger helping of its harms.

Let’s contemplate those harms for a minute. My doctor’s nagging notwithstanding, there is a big, big difference between the kind of drinking that will give you cirrhosis and the kind that a great majority of Americans do. According to an analysis in El Washington Post some years back, to break into the top 10 percent of American drinkers, you needed to drink more than two bottles of wine every night. People in the next decile consumed, on average, 15 drinks a week, and in the one below that, six drinks a week. The first category of drinking is, stating the obvious, very bad for your health. But for people in the third category or edging toward the second, like me, the calculation is more complicated. Physical and mental health are inextricably linked, as is made vivid by the overwhelming quantity of research showing how devastating isolation is to longevity. Stunningly, the health toll of social disconnection is estimated to be equivalent to the toll of smoking 15 cigarettes a day.

To be clear, people who don’t want to drink should not drink. There are many wonderful, alcohol-free means of bonding. Drinking, as Edward Slingerland notes, is merely a convenient shortcut to that end. Still, throughout human history, this shortcut has provided a nontrivial social and psychological service. At a moment when friendships seem more attenuated than ever, and loneliness is rampant, maybe it can do so again. For those of us who do want to take the shortcut, Slingerland has some reasonable guidance: Drink only in public, with other people, over a meal—or at least, he says, “under the watchful eye of your local pub’s barkeep.”

After more than a year in relative isolation, we may be closer than we’d like to the wary, socially clumsy strangers who first gathered at Göbekli Tepe. “We get drunk because we are a weird species, the awkward losers of the animal world,” Slingerland writes, “and need all of the help we can get.” For those of us who have emerged from our caves feeling as if we’ve regressed into weird and awkward ways, a standing drinks night with friends might not be the worst idea to come out of 2021.

This article appears in the July/August 2021 print edition with the headline “Drinking Alone.”

When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.


Contenido

Babjak, Diken, and Mesaros are all from Carteret, New Jersey and graduated from Carteret High School in 1975. In 1980, they formed the band with DiNizio, who was from Scotch Plains, New Jersey. [3] DiNizio had placed a classified ad in The Aquarian Weekly looking for a drummer to help on a demo tape – Diken answered it, and later introduced his schoolmates Babjak and Mesaros as well. [4]

The band's name derives from the cartoon character Yosemite Sam who had the expression, "Ya better say your prayers, ya flea-bitten varmint … I’m-a-gonna blow ya to smithereenies!". The Smithereens are known for writing and playing catchy 1960s-influenced power pop. The group gained publicity when the single "Blood and Roses" from its first album was included on the soundtrack for Dangerously Close, and the music video got moderate rotation on MTV. "Blood and Roses" was also featured on the 1980s TV show Miami Vice during the episode 'The Savage' (first aired February 6, 1987).

Along with a basic East coast roots-rock sound that owed much to musicians who inspired DiNizio, including the Who, the Clash, Elvis Costello, and Nick Lowe, The Smithereens deployed a uniquely retro obsession with Mod, the late British Invasion pop of John's Children and the Move, and other artifacts of 1950s and 1960s culture that lent its music substance. But DiNizio has stated that his single biggest influence is Buddy Holly: "Listening to Buddy Holly, I rediscovered my enjoyment of simple pop structures and pretty melodies. I've always thought of him as a kindred spirit." [4] Likewise, The Who and The Kinks were major influences on Babjak and Diken.

The title and lyrics of their song, "In a Lonely Place," appear to be based on the 1950 Humphrey Bogart film of the same title because of Bogart's lines: "I was born the day I met you, lived a while when you loved me, died a little when we broke apart." The title and artwork for the album 11 were a nod to the original 1960 Ocean's 11 película. [ cita necesaria ]

The Smithereens starred as themselves and were featured as the entertainment in the indoor beach party scene of the Troma film Class of Nuke 'Em High, playing the song "Much Too Much". [5] The soundtrack to the film was not released until 2014. [6]

The highest position a Smithereens album attained on the Cartelera pop charts was in 1990, when 11 peaked at No. 41 on the strength of the single "A Girl Like You" (which hit No. 38). "A Girl Like You" was originally written to be the title track for the 1989 Cameron Crowe film Say Anything. . [ cita necesaria ]

The basic tracks for their most recent studio album of original material, titled 2011, were recorded in early October 2010 and the album was released on April 5, 2011.

The Smithereens were the final band to perform at the fabled Bleecker Street nightclub Kenny's Castaways in Greenwich Village, New York City, in October 2012. [7]

In June 2013, The Smithereens toured as support for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. [8]

Original bass player Mike Mesaros reunited with the band in 2016 and 2017 for select performances and continued to tour in 2018 through the present. [9] [10]

DiNizio died in Scotch Plains, New Jersey, on December 12, 2017, at the age of 62. According to bandmates, his health declined following a series of issues that began in 2015, resulting in nerve damage that limited the use of his right hand and arm. [11]

The surviving members of the band, including Mesaros, performed together as The Smithereens in a tribute show to DiNizio on January 13, 2018 at the Count Basie Theatre in Red Bank, NJ. [12] In a five-hour concert, the band was joined by Steven Van Zandt, Dave Davies, Ted Leo, Robin Wilson, Lenny Kaye, Southside Johnny, Marshall Crenshaw, Bebe Buell, Richard Barone, Tony Shanahan, Graham Maby, Freedy Johnston, Kenny Howes, John Jorgenson, Peter Zaremba, Keith Streng, producer Ed Stasium, Andy Burton, and various other musicians. [12] The Pat DiNizio Musical Performance Scholarship was established at the Count Basie's Performing Arts Academy.

In 2018, Babjak, Diken and Mesaros decided to continue the band's musical legacy and tour with different guest vocalists, including Marshall Crenshaw and Robin Wilson of the Gin Blossoms, separately taking over lead vocal duties at concerts throughout the United States, including shows in NYC, Chicago, Massachusetts, Colorado, and Virginia. [13]

On May 25, 2018, the band released Covers on Sunset Blvd. Records, featuring 22 of the band's favorite songs first recorded by other artists. The CD includes rarities from the vault and some previously unreleased tracks.

On November 16, 2018, The Smithereens were nominated for induction into the New Jersey Hall of Fame, Performing Arts Category, Class of 2018.


It’s one of those timeless myths that makes sense. It makes so much sense, after all, that no one really bothered to look twice at it. There were no water filtration devices in medieval Europe, and there were certainly no systems in place to separate sewage and other dirty wastewater from clean drinking water, so it must have been laden with disease and bacteria, right? And then it only makes sense that people would have turned to beer and wine, as the process would make it a much safer thing to drink.

It was food historian and photographer Jim Chevallier who took another look at some of the writings of medieval Europe and even farther back into ancient history. What he found was that the idea of drinking beer and wine as a substitute for water is a fairly modern idea. Drinking water was mentioned in numerous texts, but there weren’t many that made a big deal about it.

That’s just because it wasn’t a big deal.

Somewhat ironic is the number of texts in which monks and saints alike swore off alcohol completely. We usually think of them as brewing their own beer in monasteries across Europe—but nothing ever says they actually drank it themselves. A diet of bread and water was often used as a punishment, as they would need to abstain from earthly pleasures and rely on their faith to sustain them.

Bad water certainly was a concern, but people had long established guidelines for telling the difference between what was drinkable and what wasn’t. The Natural History of Pliny, written in the first century A.D., outlined guidelines for determining how good water was to drink. He stressed that if there were “eels” in the water, then it was probably clean as it could support life. Bitter-tasting water was bad, and so was water that was slimy. He also suggested leaving questionable water in drinking vessels to see if it would stain over time if it didn’t, the water source was a good one. He also noted that water shouldn’t have a bad smell, and it should get warmer after it’s been drawn from its source.

Pliny also said that it was Emperor Nero, who ruled at the beginning of the first century, who first used the idea of boiling water to rid it of impurities. It was well accepted that boiled water was healthier, and this became common practice.

They knew all this in the first century, and there were plenty of freshwater sources for people to get drinking water from up through the Middle Ages when we hear the most about the beer-drinking myth. There are plenty of texts that suggest water in moderation, because of the idea that drinking too much at one time would distend and weaken the stomach. There were suggestions for adding water to wine. By the 13th century, doctors like Arnaud de Villeneuve were recommending a person drink wine on a daily basis for its nutritional value. It was never suggested that anyone abstain from water, however.

So where did the myth come from?

It’s possible that it gained popularity with Benjamin Franklin, who pointed to evidence that 18th-century documents indicated that drinking beer would give a person more strength than drinking water. While the nutritional component of beer and wine can’t be denied, it’s possible that the whole thing came from exaggeration that generally replaced fact.


Chester’s Limp

There are many theories as to why Dennis Weaver decided to give his character Chester Goode a limp. It was reported that the producers told him to do it to appear shorter than he actually was. While it was also rumored that Dennis chose the limp to accompany his country accent, to make him stand out. The on-screen explanation was that he got it during the Civil War. However, Weaver ultimately regretted giving Chester the limp as it was so much hard work.

Chester’s Limp


Why Drinking Water All Day Long Is Not the Best Way to Stay Hydrated

D ehydration is a drag on human performance. It can cause fatigue and sap endurance among athletes, according to a 2018 study in the journal Frontiers in Physiology. Even mild dehydration can interfere with a person&rsquos mood or ability to concentrate.

Water is cheap and healthy. And drinking H2O is an effective way for most people to stay hydrated. The National Academy of Medicine recommends that adult women and men drink at least 91 and 125 ounces of water a day, respectively. (For context, one gallon is 128 fluid ounces.) But pounding large quantities of water morning, noon and night may not be the best or most efficient way to meet the body&rsquos hydration requirements.

&ldquoIf you&rsquore drinking water and then, within two hours, your urine output is really high and [your urine] is clear, that means the water is not staying in well,&rdquo says David Nieman, a professor of public health at Appalachian State University and director of the Human Performance Lab at the North Carolina Research Campus. Nieman says plain water has a tendency to slip right through the human digestive system when not accompanied by food or nutrients. This is especially true when people drink large volumes of water on an empty stomach. &ldquoThere&rsquos no virtue to that kind of consumption,&rdquo he says.

In fact, clear urine is a sign of &ldquooverhydration,&rdquo according to the Cleveland Clinic. And some of the latest research supports Nieman&rsquos claim that guzzling lots of water is not the best way to stay hydrated.

For a 2015 study in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, researchers compared the short-term hydration effects of more than a dozen different beverages&mdasheverything from plain water and sports drinks to milk, tea, and beer, to a specially formulated &ldquorehydration solution.&rdquo Based on urine analyses collected from the study volunteers, the researchers concluded that several drinks&mdashincluding milk, tea, and orange juice, but not sports drinks&mdashwere more hydrating than plain water. (Lager was a little less hydrating than water, but a little better than coffee.)

Of course, no one&rsquos suggesting that people dump water in favor of milk and OJ. Water is still hydrating. So are sports drinks, beer, and even coffee, to some extent. But the authors of the 2015 study wrote that there are several &ldquoelements of a beverage&rdquo that affect how much H2O the body retains. These include a drink&rsquos nutrient content, as well as the presence of &ldquodiuretic agents,&rdquo which increase the amount of urine a person produces. Ingesting water along with amino acids, fats and minerals seems to help the body take up and retain more H2O&mdashand therefore maintain better levels of hydration&mdashwhich is especially important following exercise and periods of heavy perspiration.

&ldquoPeople who are drinking bottles and bottles of water in between meals and with no food, they&rsquore probably just peeing most of that out,&rdquo Nieman says. Also, the popular idea that constant and heavy water consumption &ldquoflushes&rdquo the body of toxins or unwanted material is a half-truth. While urine does transport chemical byproducts and waste out of the body, drinking lots of water on an empty stomach doesn&rsquot improve this cleansing process, he says.

In some rare cases, excessive water consumption can even be harmful. &ldquoIn athletes or people who are exercising for hours, if they&rsquore only drinking water, they can throw out too much sodium in their urine, which leads to an imbalance in the body&rsquos sodium levels,&rdquo explains Nieman, who has spent a chunk of his career investigating exercise-related hydration. Doctors call this imbalance &ldquohyponatremia,&rdquo and in some cases it can be deadly. In this scenario, sports drinks and other beverages that contain nutrients and sodium are safer than plain water.

While hyponatremia and excessive water consumption aren&rsquot big concerns for non-athletes, there are better ways to keep the body and brain hydrated than to pound water all day long. Sipping water (or any other beverage) a little bit at a time prevents the kidneys from being &ldquooverloaded,&rdquo and so helps the body retain more H2O, Nieman says.

Drinking water before or during a meal or snack is another good way to hydrate. &ldquoDrinking water with amino acids or fats or vitamins or minerals helps the body take up more of the water, which is why beverages like milk and fruit juice tend to look pretty good in these hydration studies,&rdquo he says. Some of his own research has found that eating a banana is better than drinking a sports beverage when it comes to post-exercise recovery. And he says eating almost any piece of fruit along with some water is going to aid the body&rsquos ability to take up that H2O and rehydrate. (These hydration rules apply to athletes as well, he says.)

The take-home message isn&rsquot that people should drink less water, nor that they should swap out water for other beverages. But for those hoping to stay optimally hydrated, a slow-and-steady approach to water consumption and coupling water with a little food is a more effective method than knocking back full glasses of H2O between meals. &ldquoWater is good for you, but you can drown in it too,&rdquo Nieman says.


President Zachary Taylor dies unexpectedly

On July 9, 1850, after only 16 months in office, President Zachary Taylor dies after a brief illness. The exact cause of his death is still disputed by some historians.

On a scorching Fourth of July in Washington, D.C., Taylor attended festivities at the newly dedicated grounds upon which the Washington Monument would be erected. According to several sources, Taylor gulped down a large quantity of cherries and iced milk and then returned to the White House, where he quenched his thirst with several glasses of water.

Outbreaks of cholera, a deadly disease caused by bacteria, occurred frequently during the summer months in hot, humid Washington during the 1800s, when sewage systems were primitive at best. The bacteria were mostly likely present in the water or iced milk Taylor drank, though other sources have claimed that Taylor died of gastroenteritis caused by the highly acidic cherries combined with fresh milk. Others suspected food poisoning or typhoid fever. It appears no one suggested foul play even though Taylor, a Mexican War hero, opposed secession and vowed to personally lead a military attack against any state that threatened to secede from the Union.

Taylor died on the evening of July 9, after four days of suffering from symptoms that included severe cramping, diarrhea, nausea and dehydration. His personal physicians concluded that he had succumbed to cholera morbus, a bacterial infection of the small intestine. His vice president, Millard Fillmore, was sworn in as the new president the next day.


Dennis Oppenheim - Biography and Legacy

Dennis Oppenheim was born in Mason City, Washington (later renamed Electric City) which he explained "was really primarily a construction site for the construction of [the Grand Coulee] dam [and] it certainly is not a city. It's not even a town. It's kind of a ghost town without a town. It does not exist." The family lived there while his father worked as an engineer on the dam, but soon after Dennis' birth they returned to their home in Richmond, El Torito, near Berkeley, in the San Francisco Bay area. Richmond was primarily a shipyard-building town during the war, and one of its main employers post-war was Standard Oil.

Both of Oppenheim's parents were Russian immigrants. His father was Jewish, born in China, and educated at the University of Hong Kong and later at the University of California at Berkeley where he received a Master's degree in engineering. He noted that his father stood out as markedly different from the local working-class El Torito community, both because of his strong Russian accent and his status as a professional. Oppenheim's mother studied English at the University of California. He described her as a "sensitive creative individual" who was very much involved in the arts: playing piano, working with marionettes, and writing poetry. He noted that his parents were "both relatively non-conformist. Oppenheim had one sister, a year older than himself, with whom he had a "rather cool" and "relatively neutral" relationship.

Oppenheim attended Richmond High school, which he described as "enormously overcrowded," as it was built for about one thousand students but in fact served about five thousand. He recalled, "I think one of the positive things that grew out of this experience in Richmond was a real close alignment with the minority class, which I did in a natural way. Particularly the African Americans [. ] I was popular with them." Oppenheim was quite involved with sports during high school, participating in track and field and swimming, although he said that he "never played football. Something about football, it was just too American. I had trouble with that."

As for the arts, Oppenheim explained that "I was kind of showing signs of artistic ability early in grammar school, punctuating this population of mediocrity and of relatively low-spirited imagination. I was operating with great resistance. Because being an artist was not a popular thing at all. It was ridiculed because at that time it would appear to be more of an alignment to a feminine activity [. ] I used to put on marionette shows and things [in elementary school], that really excited a lot of resistance from my pals who were all hard core juvenile delinquents." He then stated that he became more of a conformist in high school, as he wanted to "be identified as being one of the guys" and he thus resisted his sensitive side, keeping any involvement in art "rather secret and somewhat hidden. Not announced with any great claim, although I did know that I related to it." Nevertheless, he did take some art classes in his later years at the high school. Another student who attended high school with Oppenheim was artist, sculptor, illustrator, and composer Walter de Maria. Oppenheim was friends with de Maria's younger brother, and describes the adolescent artist as "mysterious".

Education and Early training

Oppenheim stated, "I didn't leave high school knowing that I was going to become an artist, although it was really something I considered. I was not sure. I experienced a short period of questioning at that time." He spent a year working at his first-ever job (at a shipyard) and feeling "uncomfortable" and "really quite lost", before enrolling in the California College of Arts and Crafts in 1958. He describes this college as "the obvious choice", as it allowed him to continue living at home. Moreover, many of his friends went to UC Berkeley, but students were required to have an additional language in order to attend, which Oppenheim did not.

He described his early college experience as "an awakening, because here one was all of a sudden thrown in with all of these people that you identified with, and never knew exactly how strong your identity would be until you saw them all together." It was also here that he met his future wife, Karen Cackett. During his first year of college, he kept up his shipyard job, which he recalls as being "not an enjoyable job at all," to help finance his education and have some extra spending money. Every day he awoke at 6:30am, packed two meals (lunch and dinner) and then drove to his 7:30am Art History class. He left school at 3:00pm and drove thirty miles to the shipyard to start work at 4:00pm until midnight. After a year of this grueling schedule, he was laid off and went on unemployment benefits. During that busy first year, he was unable to concentrate fully on his studies, but as of his second year he began to perform very well in school. He recalls two of his sculpting teachers who were the first New Yorkers he had ever met, as being "very important" to him, "sharp," "tough," "verbal," and "stimulating" teachers (despite not being very good artists). The students worked in plaster and Styrofoam as well as a bit of welding. Oppenheim also worked a lot in watercolor at that time.

However, he dropped out of college before completing his degree, got married to Cackett, and moved to Honolulu along with the rest of his family. His father had been relocated there, and had suggested to his son "This is probably a chance for you to do something, and you may as well travel." Oppenheim taught briefly at the University of Hawaii before starting his own Public Relations business. He explained, "all of a sudden I became this kind of extraordinary young versatile entrepreneur." What's more, he was experiencing financial success, and by 1960 he was able to purchase a large house for his wife and first, and later second child (Erik and Kristin respectively) and a fancy car. He said that by 1962 "I made a lot of money. I had all kinds of things. But I was developing a rather poor marriage, and so my wife went back home for a little rest, as we called it. And at that point everything fell apart. Not that that was such a trauma for me, it was just that things were beginning to unfold into what was going to be this continual state of highs and lows which was going to, unbeknownst to me, occur forever."

The couple soon got divorced Oppenheim closed his PR firm, and went back to school, this time at the University of Hawaii, full-time. As he recalled, "All of a sudden I was back, after a hiatus of two years, in a school environment, and I was about almost twenty-three years old [. ] the University of Hawaii in 1960 was quite something. I mean, it was a tropical environment and it captivated a lot of people from various parts of America, many of them interesting. I think I was older with my ability to differentiate between the substance of one person and the value of another was much more acute." During this period he developed strong relationships with several new friends, and "a general feeling of spiritual camaraderie with this group that made up the creative department in the arts".

The teacher that had the greatest impact on him at this time was Burt Carpenter, who went on to become curator/director of Witherspoon Art Gallery in North Carolina. Carpenter taught Oppenheim both in studio classes and art history, and took an instant liking to him. Oppenheim used this time to experiment with various ideas. He stated, "I used to dig holes in the ground, and I'd throw in a lot of broke and rusty steel and pieces that were kind of randomly placed, but yet want to address a certain physiological body component. And then I'd throw plaster in. I'd make these dirt paths and then I'd throw them out, and then I'd burn them, and I purely was identifying, at that time, with remnants of the abstract expressionist sensibility." He also experimented with paintings that were "abstract figurations". However, once again he left before completing his degree, this time to return to the California College of Arts and Crafts.

He remembered this step as "kind of a defeat, in a way, because [. ] I was going back to the school I was at when I was a kid. I was older. And for some reason, I ended up in the dormitory. I didn't stay there long. I knew that that was impossible. I was pretty unstable." At this time he struggled with depression, often visiting doctors and taking medications to "equalize" himself. He later noted, "As a survivor of these things, one can develop certain strengths that are useful in making art. They can be in the form of allowing yourself close proximity to dangerous psychological states. For instance, because you tested things, you're more capable of knowing when you're on the brink. You're more capable of examining things, turning them over, looking at them in different ways that are really very difficult, very hard, that have a kind of sinister aspect to them. You can look at very dark things. You aren't afraid. Your level of fear has been compromised because you've experienced things. So this is all ammunition that you can use in art making."

He finally graduated with a degree in Education and a minor in English in 1964, and then promptly received a scholarship to do his Masters of Fine Arts at Stanford, which he completed in a mere nine months. His education at Stanford was comprised nearly entirely of studio work. He said, "I remember distinctly that the day I arrived at Stanford and the day I left, I didn't miss one day in the studio. I mean, I worked every day for nine months, and sometimes all night. So I worked all the time. I expanded from one room to about six rooms. I took over an entire building, work that would overflow in the courtyard. I did hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pieces. I was reading a lot, I was developing theory". He also noted, "I developed extraordinarily lofty intellectual positions because I was being persuaded by a real natural urge for radical upset. I was really sure at that point, without doubt, that I wanted to be a cutting edge artist."

Mature Period

Oppenheim moved to New York in 1966, and in 1967, he moved into the Tribeca loft that served as his home and studio until his death in 2011. (For the last three decades of his life, he also owned a second home in The Springs on Long Island, next door to Jackson Pollock's house, where he liked to simply "go and think".) He taught art at a nursery school in Northport, as well as at a junior high school in Smithtown, Long Island, all the while working toward his first one-person New York show, which was held at the John Gibson Gallery in 1968. The show included mainly photographs and maps of his outdoor Land art works, including Annual Rings. His third child, Chanda, was born to Phyllis Jalbert that same year.

Oppenheim received a Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship in 1969, and National Endowment for the Arts Fellowships in 1974 and 1982. By the early 1970s he had joined the Art Workers' Coalition, along with Minimalist sculptors Carl Andre and Robert Morris. The group organized demonstrations at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with the aim of implementing economic and political reforms. In the early 1980s he presented workshops at the Visual Arts Center of Alaska.

In 1981 he married the sculptor Alice Aycock while the two were working together with eight other artists (including Ulrich Ruckriem, Robert Morris, Mauro Staccioli, Dani Karavan, Richard Serra, George Trakas, and Anne and Patrick Poirier) on the first group of works that would begin the Gori Collection of Site-Specific Art at the Fattoria Celle, in Santomato, Tuscany (part-way between Florence and Pisa). Oppenheim and Aycock were both constructing large-scale metal sculptures next to each other in the English-style Romantic gardens on the property. The marriage was short-lived, but the two remained close friends.

During the early 1970s, Oppenheim turned to Performance art, focusing on the use of his own body. But in the late 1970s and early 1980s, he returned to the material art object, creating large sculptures from industrial materials. Around 1986, Oppenheim entered a period where he stopped working for about three or four years. He later explained, "I just wanted to sort of feel stuff out."

Although he quit drinking in the 1990s, Oppenheim's house hosted some of the wildest parties of his time, with artists like Vito Acconci , Robert Smithson, and Chris Burden in attendance.

Author and friend, Charlie Finch wrote in his obituary, "Hugh Hefner was a street urchin compared to Dennis when it came to hosting parties", going on to describe the lavish events at which party crashers were always welcome.

Late Period

In the later years of his career, Oppenheim focused on creating permanent outdoor sculptures that engaged with the surrounding environment in metaphorical ways. At this time, he felt a need to focus on public works in an attempt to "find an alternative to museums and galleries" - although he admitted, "public art has always been a bittersweet and disappointing context over the last 20 years. It really has produced some of the worst sculpture in the world [. ] It's a receptacle for bad art. What it offers an artist is an excruciating interaction with bureaucrats and overseers who invariably make a good work impossible. It aligns the artists with architects, who are often resistant, and puts the artist into a no-win position of impossible problems. One must develop a new kind of thinking process in order to interface with the power structure of public art successfully."

In 1998, he married Amy Van Winkle Plumb, and they remained together until his passing from liver cancer in 2011 at the age of 72.

The Legacy of Dennis Oppenheim

Oppenheim was one of the first to advocate strongly for the use of photography in ephemeral Land and Performance works, stating that the photograph was "necessary as a residue of communication".

Oppenheim's early earthworks, such as Annual Rings (1968), which involved modifications to natural substances (such as snow and earth) that would eventually yield to the forces of nature and disappear completely, directly influenced his Land artist contemporaries, such as his close friend, Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty (1970), as well as in more recent work by Richard Long. His influence can also be seen in the works of later artists, such as Andy Goldsworthy, who used the earth and natural elements, as well as his own body, in his "ephemeral" artworks.

Oppenheim was also a pioneer of performance art that focused on the limits of the artist's own body in the 1970s, along with artists like Valie Export, Vito Acconci , and Marina Abramovic. Oppenheim was particularly close with Acconci, saying that they "began about the same time, and we were always quite friendly, and basically we've supported each other [. ] I have always liked his work [. ] He is quite a different kind of artist. But yet we shared some of the same risk-taking and some of the same inability to do the same thing over and over again. Our position in the market is relatively relaxed. So we have characteristics that we share."

British sculptor Stephen Cripps cited Oppenheim's mechanical sculptures of the 1970s and his firework-launching machines of the early 1980s as having strongly influenced his own "Pyrotechnic" Sculptures of the same period.

His daughter, Kristin Oppenheim is a respected artist working in New York and working predominately in sound and light installations.


Ver el vídeo: 80-90s Hollywood Actresses and Their Shocking Look In 2020