From the Juice-box, Tom Waits – Bad Liver And A Broken Heart (in Lowell):

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Dipsomania

Part of my job as FASe of the Drinking Generation is to occasionally don a professor’s robes.

The lecture today is on Dipsomania (for which i researched Wkiki extensively).

A long time ago, ‘dipsomania‘ was used to mean normal alcoholism. It’s not used much anymore because people prefer words that are easier to type. Especially while drinking.

Still, ‘dipsomania‘ now can refer to “describe a particular condition of periodic, compulsive bouts of alcohol intake.“

i think you see where i’m going’ with this. What intellectuals call dipsomania, you and i call binge drinking. Which makes me a dipsomaniac.

The questions now before the Bar are: What (if any) are the differences between Binge Drinking and Chronic Alcoholism? Can Binge Drinkers become Moderate Drinkers?

Stay tuned while we explore these and other, less obtuse and more fun, issues.

Class dismissed.

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Tom Waits – Bad Liver and a Broken Heart

Well, I got a bad liver and a broken heart

Yeah, I drunk me a river since you tore me apart

And I don’t have a drinking problem, except when I can’t get a drink

And I wish you’d a known her, we were quite a pair

She was sharp as a razor and soft as a prayer

So welcome to the continuing saga

She was my better half and I was just a dog

And so here I am slumped, I’ve been chipped

I’ve been chumped on my stool

So buy this fool some spirits and libations

It’s these railroad station bars

And all these conductors and the porters

And I’m all out of quarters

And this epitaph is the aftermath

Yeah, I choose my path, hey, come on, Kath

He’s a lawyer, he ain’t the one for ya

No, the moon ain’t romantic, it’s intimidating as hell

And some guy’s trying to sell me a watch

And so I’ll meet you at the

Bottom of a bottle of bargain Scotch

I got me a bottle and a dream

It’s so maudlin it seems

You can name your poison

Go on ahead and make some noise

I ain’t sentimental, this ain’t a purchase

It’s a rental and it’s purgatory

And hey, what’s your story, well, I don’t even care

‘Cause I got my own double-cross to bear

And I’ll see your Red Label, and I’ll raise you one more

And you can pour me a cab, I just can’t drink no more

‘Cause it don’t douse the flames that are started by dames

It ain’t like asbestos, it don’t do nothing but rest us assured

And substantiate the rumors that you’ve heard