Brains and Barley Corn

I found my excuse, and I intend to hang onto it like a tick on a hound.

You see, I’ve spent the better part of my adult life listening to people offer judgmental little remarks about my fondness for a sip or two of the good stuff.

“Whiskey again, Tom?” they’d say, as if I’d accidentally tripped and fallen into the bottle.

But now, thanks to a handful of very official-sounding studies, I’ve learned something that changes the whole conversation: smarter folks drink more. That’s right.

Good, reputable, lab-coated, peer-reviewed science has come to my defense at long last. Several large-scale studies, including one with more than 6,000 people, show that individuals with higher IQs in high school are more likely to enjoy moderate or even heavy drinking in their grown-up years. They found that for every point increase in IQ, there’s a 1.6 percent rise in the odds of becoming a regular drinker.

Now, I don’t want to brag, but I did read the entire study summary without once needing to Google a word. So I figure that puts me somewhere in the upper reaches of scholarly whiskey consumption.

I’ve always suspected my evening pour was less about vice and more about advanced cognitive function. Turns out I wasn’t just relaxing—I was exercising my neurons.

According to the same research, smarter folks also binge less. That makes sense to me, as I’ve always thought drinking should be a conversation, not a demolition derby.

There’s a rhythm to it: the gentle clink of ice, the smell of charred oak from the barrel, and the occasional deep thought like, “I wonder if squirrels judge us for using leaf blowers.”

Still, I must admit, this newfound knowledge is a bit of a double-edged sword, because now when I pour myself a glass of Cowboy Coolaid, beer for you city types, I can’t help but feel a little smug. And that’s a dangerous thing. A smug drinker is only one sip away from trying to explain string theory with a bottle of Coors Light and a cocktail napkin.

I shared my discovery with my reflection the other night—we have had some fine conversations over the years—and I raised my glass and said, “To intelligence!”

He raised his, too, as he always does, and we toasted in perfect synchrony. Then he frowned at me, which I thought was rude, until I realized I’d run out and he still had some left.

That’s when I knew I needed to call it a night.

So now, when someone catches me nursing a drink and they raise an eyebrow, I’ve got my reply ready, “I’m not drinking—I’m testing a hypothesis.”

And if that doesn’t win them over, I’ll remind them I’m supporting science. It’s practically a public service.

And in case you’re wondering, yes, I do still remember to drink water and take my vitamins. Intelligence is one thing, but hydration is where the real geniuses shine.

Cheers, my friends. Keep your minds sharp and your spirits moderate, or was it the other way around? Either way, the science is settled—I’m not a bad influence, I’m gifted.