Let’s revisit the drunk excuse, shall we? This standby default initially played as large a part in the Mel Gibson fiasco as his disturbing comments.

Miscreants are forever blaming bad behavior on the bottle. It’s like an inebriated card to get out of jail free, though in Gibson’s case, as for many DUIs, it didn’t work.

You blame the drink, rather than the drinker, for actions that would never be tolerated sober. Then, if you’re famous and clever (or famous with a good publicity SWAT team), you check into rehab and disappear for a while, especially from a contagion of reporters and a ravenous public.

In one move, Mel goes from being an inebriated anti-Semite to a drunk with a problem begging for forgiveness, deserving of our pity.

Poof! His Jewish problem vaporizes, and Gibson gets a prolonged vacation, partly covered by his medical insurance.

It’s Excuse-Away with a chaser.

Imagine being at the office and telling the boss you didn’t hand in work due to drink. Or informing your sweetheart you were with someone else, but it didn’t count because you were soused. Or calling someone a racial/ethnic/ageist/sexist epithet, then blaming it solely on the rum. Think that might work and forgiveness would follow?

Remember the absurd Twinkie defense that Dan White’s attorneys used, successfully arguing that pastry and cola were partly responsible for his murdering of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and city Supervisor Harvey Milk in 1978?

Drink is the Twinkie that keeps on giving.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could go to the pantry and select the perfect alibi for specific execrable behavior? The Cheetos made me nasty. Milk Duds made me late. Honest, it was the Triscuits that made me kiss him.

It’s been my observation that drinking tends to bring out behavior that’s already present in the imbiber. Charming people tend to become more so, flirts are flirtier, while jerks become seismic jerks.

A relative was caustic while sober, viciously caustic when pickled. We knew to get out of the way of his lobs once the third scotch was poured. Another relative, who had a penchant for being a tad too honest with her feelings, was relentlessly so when liquored. Again, it was never a surprise. Trains run less frequently on schedule.

I was astounded to watch one woman lie extravagantly and habitually while drunk – drink having long been branded a truth lubricant of sorts – until realizing that she lies habitually though less extravagantly sober. Drink was merely an extreme-sports version of quotidian existence.

Alcoholism is a disease, but most drinkers aren’t alcoholics. Anti-Semitism isn’t something ingrained in the grain, either, nor is racism. It’s embedded in the person.

You can’t separate body from brain, believing alcohol made Gibson stupid and wrong. He had to be that way to begin with. Sober, he was merely better at covering up his sentiments around people he might offend.

Alcohol can represent a loss of control, not of inherent values and prejudices. If Gibson needs help with his drinking, then it’s good that he’s getting it. He’s since owned up, sort of, to his other problem, but it isn’t going to be fixed as quickly as a short stay in rehab.

Gibson, the son of an avowed Holocaust denier, may require years to change his mind-set. He may never change his views, despite the quick public relations move.

From this vantage point, the alcohol excuse was all wet. It holds no water whatsoever, to say nothing of wine.