HOUSTON: We weren’t doing the glass, we weren’t doing, like, pipe-smoking. We didn’t get that far, no. Noooo.

WINFREY: So how are you smoking it, then?

[Winfrey’s expression is really priceless here. She has no idea how one uses crack, is visibly uncomfortable, and even has a few disconcerting moments of manic laughter.]

HOUSTON: You put it in your marijuana, Oprah. OK, go with me here. You put your marijuana, you lace it, you roll it up, and you smoke it in your weed.

[At this point, Houston is literally miming making a joint laced with crack cocaine.]

HOUSTON: It’s just another form. It’s almost like heroin-cocaine speed-balling, but you level it off with the marijuana, OK?

Um, OK. I mean, as long as you weren’t, like, pipe-smoking, I suppose it’s all very innocent. It’s just such an addict thing to make these crazy distinctions between pipe-smoking and speed-balling, isn’t it?

But, if that weren’t enough of a clue into the fragility of her state of mind vis à vis addiction, Houston makes sure also to draw a bright clear line between her drug use and her drinking. She still has a glass of wine at the bar every now and then, see. I’m not saying that every drug addict is an alcoholic, but here’s something to chew on: Alcohol compromises smart decision-making processes. And, when you’re only several months drug-free, you might want all your faculties operating in tip-top condition to fight the incredible temptations that years of drug abuse have left your brain disconcertingly susceptible to. Just a thought.

Next up, the “Oprah” show snagged former TV star Mackenzie Phillips for a tell-all about Phillips’ ten-year sexual relationship with her own father, John Phillips, as detailed in her new book, High On Arrival. It all started with a 19-year-old Mackenzie waking up from a drug-and-alcohol-induced blackout to find herself engaged in intercourse with her own father—a rape that, according to Mackenzie, became a regular (and “consensual”) occurrence. (Note to Phillips: Incest is never consensual.) If true, it’s hardly surprising that Mackenzie Phillips has spent the majority of her adult life battling addictions of one kind or another. Between the disturbing scars of a young adulthood powerless to a nightmarish relationship and the seemingly endless access to drugs her wealth gave her, it would be surprising if Phillips didn’t have issues with addiction.

And yet. There is something about a woman who can’t be more than 13 months sober—Phillips’ last arrest for heroin and cocaine possession was at LAX in late August of 2008—appearing on one of the most widely watched television programs on the planet to talk about her horrific incestuous abuse, all in service of her new memoir, that just doesn’t sit well with me. Phillips described her worldview in her twenties as a dystopian amalgam of drugs and sex with her father, a world where “how things should be” and “the rules of society” became “warped and twisted.” Unfortunately, however far Phillips has come in this last year of getting sober and writing a book, her worldview strikes me as still a bit off, as still a bit warped and twisted. Maybe if she weren’t talking about a dead man, hawking a book, or had more time in sobriety, I could listen with more compassionate ears. But something about Phillips and her supposed recovery just feels wrong.

And, suddenly, we have a trend. After South Carolina Congressman Joe Wilson’s “You lie!” debacle and Serena Williams’ expletive-laced tennis-court tirade, media outlets from the Detroit Free Press to Beliefnet to CBS News have been lamenting the loss of manners and civility in the public space. The New York Times columnist David Brooks even cites West’s “self-indulgent expression” as the latest in a series of steps “across a sort of narcissism line.”

Perhaps it is. But let me just take Kanye West off the “civility offenders” list for a moment and put him on the “just plain drunk” list. West’s outburst isn’t some mystery of manners or ego we need to examine, take home, and naval-gaze over; this isn’t the death of civilization as we know it. The man drank a good half-bottle of Hennessy before lurching onto the MTV stage (perhaps more than half; photos during throughout the event show the bottle’s content getting progressively lower as the night went on). He rocked a snake woman on one arm and a bottle of hooch on the other. Classy.

The real question is: Who takes a giant bottle of cognac to a theater? In my experience, that would at least be a sign of trouble and at worst just a big-time alcoholic. Now I’m not saying West is anything of the sort—celebrities do all sorts of idiotic attention-getting things for no better reason than that they can. Still, a great way to ensure you aren’t going to embarrass yourself at a huge public event is not to make a bottle of Hennessy your arm candy.

Of course, the propinquity of addiction was most acute in death: The summer was just getting started when we learned of the death of Michael Jackson; the summer was just ending when we learned of the death of DJ AM. Jackson seemed to exist for years on a kind of semi-permanent dreamland high before succumbing to a pernicious brew of toxins rarely seen outside of hospitals—all under the watchful eye of his personal physician. But DJ AM in many ways represents the more tangible cautionary tale. Apparently sober for 11 years, the disc-jockey superstar seemed to have beaten the demons only to meet with the unthinkable: a fatal overdose. Now that’s a potent disease.

And yet, we talk about it far less than we ought to. “If someone’s kid has cancer, they’ll talk about it; but if a kid is addicted, they’re ashamed,” said Joseph A. Califano, founder and chair of the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University, at this summer’s Aspen Ideas Festival, where I had a chance to talk with him. But Califano has a plan: start a cultural revolution. “AIDS was once a social curse you deserved to die for,” said Califano. But then, the medical community “educated the country in about five years. They haven’t done the same thing about substance abuse and addiction.”

So where’s the addiction quilt? The addiction ribbon? The march to fight addiction? It’s not as if the numbers aren’t there. Calling addiction the “biggest social problem of our time,” Califano dropped the statistics:

• $700 billion will be spent on diseases related to drinking and drug use this year;

• 80 percent of the people in prison were either high at the time of their crime or buying drugs;

• 70 percent of children in juvenile homes have an addicted parent;

“We are 4 percent of the world’s population,” said Califano, “and we consume two-thirds of the world’s illegal drugs.” And, while we consume, we watch—a steady diet of junkie TV with “Celebrity Rehab,” “Sober House,” “True Life: I’m an Alcoholic,” “Intervention,” “The Cleaner,” and many more on the way. Is pop culture paving the way for a recovery revolution or further stigmatizing the addict? In this blog, I’ll try to explore the nexus between substance abuse and pop culture, check out the latest National Institute on Drug Abuse studies, and write about my own experiences in sobriety.

It’s been an addictive summer. Who knows what fall will bring? Whatever it is, let’s talk about it.

Happy National Recovery Month!