The Lamppost Drunk

The other day I drove past a lawn ornamented with a miniature lamppost.  It was plainly visible from the road, being maybe four feet tall. Embracing it was a drunk.  You’ve seen these.  The fellow is happy in his inebriation and wears a smile.  His top hat is tilted rakishly.  His arm encircles the post and holds him up.  There’s a bottle in his other hand.

This lovable sot is intended to make you smile.  There may be those who would say drunkenness isn’t funny.  Since he’s hanging onto a lamppost, he’s in a public place, and he’s plainly too impaired to walk.  There’s a definite substance abuse problem there.

On the other hand he’s not a poor laborer whose family will starve because he squandered his wages on drink.  Only the wealthy go out in top hats and evening clothes.  Or at least they did; this fellow harks to an earlier time.  It may be a middle class send-up of the rich.  Seldom do the estates of the affluent boast such decoration. 

But you aren’t supposed to be annoyed with the boozer; he’s too jolly.  He comes from a time when drunkenness was portrayed as funny.  I think of the character Vera Charles in “Auntie Mame.” Her alcoholism was the topic of countless jokes.  Nick Charles in the Thin Man series was a heavy drinker, and his fondness for cocktails supplied much levity.  Funny drinkers are almost always happy, and their habit never seems to cause lasting misery to themselves or those around them.  Even their hangovers get a laugh.

The trouble with humorous lawn decorations is the joke goes quickly stale.  Once there was a first time you saw a jigsaw cutout of a fat woman shown from behind as she bends to pull a weed.  These became ubiquitous, and the gag became so tired their numbers have at last decreased. 

Possibly the drunk-and-lamppost totems are set out as a response to sober-sided critics who disapprove of drinking.  The fellow is defiantly upright, and smirks in the face of anyone who might frown.  I suspect the choice of an image to set outside a house to be seen by passers-by has to do with the self image of those who dwell therein. 

There’s material for a thesis here.  How did the image evolve through time, and why does it have elements of class distinction?  Scientific inquiry is needed. When the lamppost drunkard question is put to rest, researchers could go on to the Nordic gnome or the Sicilian donkey cart.  Eventually they could delve into the alarming pathology of families who display both.