By Tom ‘Lumpy’
Waters
March, 1, 2002
It’s cheaper to buy a garbage
bag full of Ecstasy than a carton of cigarettes these days. Of all the
insidious vices in the world, we smokers catch the most flak and get
pestered the most often. After coping with the gradual prohibition of
smoking in restaurants, the country is pulling the same shenanigans
with bars. We’ve been bullied into secrecy and peer pressured into quitting.
Don’t we have any rights left?
Once the ads were banned
from television, non-smokers replaced the commercials with anti-smoking
propaganda paid for by the tobacco companies who got their money from
whom? Smokers. It’s bad enough to be chastised and preached to by holistic
crusaders constantly, but why should I have to contribute to media campaigns
aimed at rubbing my nose in it? Everytime I see one of those commercials
I might as well kick myself in the ass, because that’s how I feel.
A few years ago, I was taking
a smoke break outside of a store in the dead of winter with a co-worker
when an old bag walked towards us and waved her hands in our faces without
saying anything. God forbid that the smell got into her clothes and
took the flea and tick collar stench out of the perfume she rolled in.
It wasn’t enough that we were freezing our asses off outside so that
she could shop in a death-free atmosphere. In her mind we weren’t even
allowed to suck a cancer stick out in the open.
To make matters worse, some
of our allies have gone into hiding. An Underground Railroad for smoking,
if you will. One of my friends has been married for at least four years
and he’s hidden his half a pack habit daily from his wife since they
started dating! Are you that ashamed of your addiction sir, or are you
afraid she’ll throw your stash away where your genitals went so many
moons ago? Another butt brother (in retrospect, I should have worded
that differently) who works for a family business claimed that he quit,
so now he suffers through hours of labor before he can enjoy that smooth
nicotine rush again. Smoke proudly! The world shouldn’t operate like
a fifth grade boy’s room!
And every week, like a traveling
fiend caravan we drive out to the Indian reservation in order to buy
top names for less than seventy five dollars a pack. Regrettably, there
are those who either don’t have the time to cross five state lines or
they’re too poor to pave their lung cavities in style who settle for
budget brands. Companies like Fred’s Fabulous Fags, President’s Choice
Ultra, and Reconstituted Ashtray Menthols have skyrocketing stock thanks
to regular price increases. I refuse to stoop to those levels.
It’s a filthy habit, right?
Well it’s not the only one! What about people who chew their nails while
they’re talking to you? I love seeing someone gnaw half their forefinger
off and eat it compulsively in the middle of an anecdote. Or people
who drink so many cups of coffee that their breath smells like they’ve
been chewing turds all morning? Plenty of coffee drinkers get colon
cancer. Go pick on them for a decade or so. I’ve got room for one more......tanning
addicts. That’s another proven form of cancer to boot. Run some self-righteous
ads against that repetitive, harmful activity. “If you march into
the UV booths, you might as well be marching into a gas chamber!â€
Now that’s a ridiculous, filthy habit. Sitting buck naked in a pool
of community sweat until you look like Castro’s illegitimate grand kid.
It’ll kill you. What won’t?
As if every other form of death is quick and pain free. As if non-smokers
just ascend into the heavens on a chariot of their own bullshit. Dying
is painful. If it’s not a grape-sized lump in my breast at fifty something
else would come along. Smoking, on the other hand, isn’t painful. It’s
euphoric, enjoyable, and it gives me time to collect my thoughts. I’ll
quit when I get around to it, not a moment sooner. I’m tired of arguing
the issue with the unconverted. Besides, I‘m long overdue for a smoke
break.
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