Skål og smil

Hvis der nogle som skulle være i tvivl, så har alkohol altid fungeret som antidepressiver, længe før Prozac. Det er faktisk dårligt for ens psykiske helbred, at undlade at drikke:

Forskerne Jens Christoffer Skogen og Arnstein Mykletun siger, at der med total afholdenhed er 30 procent større risiko for angst og næsten 50 procent større risiko for depression i forhold til de mådeholdne.

En sådan nyhed, er da lige at knappe en øl op over, og skåle oven på.

Lad mullaher, frelste og profeter prædike som de vil. Menneskets egen biologi har nu altid vidst, hvad der er godt :)

Fra Rubaiyat af Omar Khayyam:

 
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
...

Ah! my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears-
To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

XXI.

 Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.

XXII.

 And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?

XXIII.

 Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and—sans End!

...

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
 Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
   Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
 Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

XXVI.

 Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
 To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
   One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
 The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

XXVII.

 Myself when young did eagerly frequent
 Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
   About it and about: but evermore
 Came out by the same Door as in I went.

XXVIII.

 With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
 And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
   And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd—
 "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

XXIX.

 Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
 Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
   And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
 I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

XXX.

 What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
 And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
   Another and another Cup to drown
 The Memory of this Impertinence!

Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn TO-MORROW and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!

XXXVIII.

...

 For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And, "UP-AND-DOWN" without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but—Wine.

XLII.

 And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape,
Bearing a vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas—the Grape!

XLIII.

 The Grape that can with Logic absolute
 The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
   The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
 Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.

SKÅL og god weekend!