[footfootfoot]

Hard to put my finger on it exactly. My dad, who apparently was the quintessential party animal, told me he finally got out of the business because he saw too many of his friends die of cirrhosis of the liver.

Typically, accounts came and went based on how much of a good time you could show people and how much sunshine you could blow up their asses.

After he passed away, his sisters made a few cryptic remarks about how marriage and a family slowed him down a bit.

His charm and charisma went up to 11.

Part of what I find hard about the show is the moral/ethical darkness. I was too young (dob 1960) to really have much of an idea about what was happening, but for some reason, the show is too intense.

Maybe it's like thinking about your parents as real people who get drunk and have sex or whore around like the 20 somethings they were.

It's funny how every generation thinks they invented sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll.

After the war my dad went to NYU and lived in the village with beatniks and proto hippies. I can only imagine...