My landlord subscribes to the New Yorker. I read the magazine from time to time. Never all of it, but I cherrypick the articles and several years ago I was drawn to Joan Accocela’s THE ANNALS OF DRINKING / A Few Too Many, which was probably the best-written piece to be published in that esteemed magazine in decades. For once they featured writing more to my pseudo-intellectual tastes, especially with key search words such as hang-over, alcohol, and Kingsley Amis.

The article suggested that hang-overs occurred when the blood/alcohol index was lowered to zero on the dehydrating trips to the bathroom, so holding it is better than relief, although an overloaded bladder produces more anxiety than a hang-over to a man my age.

The writer also dated hang-overs to the Stone Age and offered insight into the source of the word hang-over plus several foreign alternatives.

Danish is the best “Carpenters in my head.”

As for cures the writer heralded Andrew Irving’s HOW TO CURE A HANGOVER and also RU-21, a KGB remedy for ‘A few too many’.

No drinking man or woman should miss this piece, so please click on the following URL

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/05/26/080526fa_fact_acocella?currentPage=1

Never have so many been help by one person.

The Jack Palance photo was featured, since Attila the Hun famously fell off his horse while drunk, caught pneumonia, and died the next day. The Huns supposedly hid his corpse to avoid desecration, but some historians think his bodyguard were too hung over to find it.

Thursday morning I woke up this morning with a hang-over and couldn’t figure out why I recalled drinking champagne combined with wine.

Never a good combination, but I survived the dawn thanks to the frosty Stella Artois’ stuck in my refrigerator.

Hang-overitis.

It’s never lasts forever.