The original, unedited version of Sean Higgins’ article on the Modern Drunkard convention.

I remember just before graduation, at a cocktail party, the college president’s wife politely inquired about my plans. I said I wanted to go into journalism or some other kind of editorial work. “Do you have a network for that?” she asked. “Kind of,” I said, “I call them friends.”

It doesn’t take much thought to realize that without some reasonable guidelines, sex is a moral minefield as destructive as anything in the human condition.

While no doubt some community affairs programs will have redeeming social value, it can’t be overlooked that public access often amounts to little more than a kind of old-school blogging. Sure, everyone is empowered to speak. But how many blogs are worth reading?

If there is a Modern Drunkard philosophy it is this: All of mankind would be better off with everyone getting their drunk on.

“I know plenty of people who I wouldn’t ever give away who are actually conservatives but who live in deathly fear, so they’re in the closet. It’s amazing. It’s really astounding. I say, ‘How can you survive?’”

The continuation of the Mark Helprin interview.

“Richard Gere will never be found. Neither will Terence Malick. Christina Aguilera, identified by her teeth. Haley Joel Osment. Samuel L. Jackson. Quentin Tarantino, jiggling on a stretcher so soaked with blood that it looked black as they loaded his body into an open ambulance.”

“You come to L.A., and no one seems to be working. Everyone is sitting around in cafes or at the coffee shop in the middle of the day . . . . You think it’s that easy. But of course, it’s not.”