Let's have a REAL Smoke-out
As we headed to the car, my buddy's girlfriend
turned to me and said, "You're not going to bring that stinky
thing in here, are you?" I quickly checked my fly, but she
was referring to my cigar.
It figures. I'm the smoker who alienates
other smokers. Let's review, shall we? We had just finished eating
Buffalo Burgers at Ole's restaurant in Paxton, Nebraska. The
restaurant decor featured animal heads from around the world:
tigers, bears, bison, warthogs, you name it. It looked like Teddy
Roosevelt threw up in there. My friends, Frank G. and his girlfriend,
smoked several cigarettes before and after dinner. The restaurant's
non-smoking section featured two little tables by the window
and the waitress apologized for the inconvenience. Even the bathroom
included a metal ashtray fastened to the top of the urinal, the
way god intended.
In other words, I fit right in. That is,
until we left the restaurant and I lit up a cigar. How fucking
politically incorrect of me.
Here's the deal: Although I extinguished
my El Producto before I climbed into the Cadillac, they each
smoked three cigarettes during the half-hour trip to North Platte.
That's right, I counted. When I can't smoke, I start monitoring
other people's behavior.
It's not that I have anything against
cigarettes, mind you. Cigarettes contain nicotine, carbon monoxide,
cadmium, strychnine, tars and several other toxins. Can you imagine
the hassle if you had to go out and collect these substances
individually every day? Cigarettes provide these chemicals (and
more!) in one convenient package.
But I prefer cigars. Why put something
small and white in your mouth when you can suck on something
big and black?
These days, all my smoking friends are
quitting. Or planning to quit. They say, "I'm going to stop
smoking soon, once I straighten out a few things in my life."
Yeah, right, sure. I don't blame them. They're scared. Not from
lung cancer, emphysema or heart disease, but from the 60 Minutes
story on how smoking causes impotence. "Not my dick, you
don't," they think.
Impotence? Big fucking deal. Last I looked,
there weren't any statistics available on tongue cancer. And
since I'm a self-confessed orally obsessive person, I can always
specialize. Besides, anything worth doing is worth doing compulsively.
Sure, impotence might impair my ability
to fuck the way I used to, but if I want to brandish a big, hard
cock with all the staying power of a 19-year-old, I'll go down
to the sex shop and buy one. There ain't no quit in me. True,
impotence may impede my orgasms, but after the first 11 million
or so they get old. Orgasms are overrated -- like milk, the sun,
college... and Woody Allen movies.
GREAT AMERICAN SMOKE-OUT, NOV. 19
This column will be published the same
day as the American Cancer Society's Great American Smoke-Out.
This is no accident. I'm a professional.
The so-called "smoke-out" means
that the American Cancer Society asks all smokers to give up
puffing for one day as a dress rehearsal for quitting completely.
Right. That's like asking someone contemplating suicide, "Why
don't you just slash one wrist and see how you like it?"
I also have a semantic problem with the
term "smoke-out." Quitting smoking is NOT a smoke-out.
When I was 19 and in the Air Force, I'd get a bag of dirt weed,
roll up the entire batch (about 40 joints), call up my friends
Wade and Johnny B. and we'd have a smoke-out. Last one to pass
out wins. THAT'S a smoke-out. A real one.
Don't get me wrong. I have tried to quit
smoking before, but the results were disastrous. The patch didn't
work. It made me whoosy, especially when I smoked. I do use Nicorette
gum, however, and highly recommend it. The gum works great for
situations when smoking is inappropriate, such as job interviews,
wedding ceremonies, swimming and showers. Like the ad says, when
you can't smoke, chew.
I also tried smokeless tobacco as an alternative
to smoking. That experiment produced a remarkable effect: everybody
was pissed off at me. I can't say chewing tobacco was a waste
of time, though. I never heard so many people say, "Please,
please... start smoking again, you fucking idiot." It made
me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Smoking isn't my fault. Society made me
this way. And society's not helping me change, either. Years
ago, I read an article in a Marin County, California publication
called Pacific Sun that said, "More and more people are
quitting tobacco, since it's becoming more and more socially
unacceptable in Marin." Give me a break. I need motivation.
Tweaking Marin residents isn't a deterrent, it's an inducement
to smoke. Same with smoking indoors. I have to go outside? Away
from all of you? Cool.
Recently, California passed a 50-cent
tax on each pack of cigarettes sold. The tax will fund early
childhood development programs in California. Fine. I've got
no problem with that. But in fairness, I think the legal age
of smoking should be reduced so that kids can contribute to their
own development.
The above is a good example of what scares
me about quitting -- the fear that I won't be as sharp mentally.
Here's a case in point: I was hanging out with a bunch of militant
non-smokers who were ragging on me for smoking. I turned to them
and said, "Fuck you guys. I'm in better shape then all of
you and I can prove it. I challenge anyone here to a push-up
contest. All I ask is that you go first."
One guy, Marty, took me up on the challenge.
I knew he would. He was studly beyond belief, muscle upon muscles,
an ex-Marine. He hit the floor and whipped out 75 pushups easily.
He probably could have done 25 more. When he finished he said,
"Beat that." I said, "No, I don't think so. You
win. See? That's why I don't want to quit smoking. You're all
so fucking gullible."
And then I walked on down the hall.
Look. I realize smoking is a dangerous
hobby, like bungee jumping, rock climbing and column writing.
But I do plan to quit someday and soon. Really.
Once I get a few things straightened out
in my life.
* * *
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 1998 by Mike Jasper.
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