You won’t find anyone who hates smoking more than me. It’s a filthy habit, with no upside. It gives you bad breath, yellow teeth, irritates other people, drains your financial resources – and as a bonus, you get to die a slow, cancerous death. I’ve lost a grandfather and uncle to throat cancer due to smoking. However, recent events are forcing to joint Sir Mix-a-Lot in the “pro-butt” camp.
While I personally hate smoking, I obviously recognize individuals’ right to light up. It’s not my job or anyone else’s to make personal health decisions for anyone else. But the anti-smoking ninnies have gotten so insufferable, I’m having trouble aligning myself with them, even though – in principle – they’re right.
In fact, the only legitimate benefit of smoking is that it identifies which girls in a bar have – shall we say – lowered inhibitions. Or low self esteem, which is even better.
On the way to work today, I pulled up next to a guy that had to be 70 years old. Hair slicked back, sweatsuit, sunglasses – the real deal. Dangling precariously from his lip was a cigarette with about a 3 inch ash on it. There’s absolutely no doubt that cigarette doesn’t leave his lips when he’s drinking coffee or eating breakfast in the morning. And you know what? There’s nothing I or anyone else is going to say to that guy to get him to quit smoking. That cigarette has probably been stuck to his bottom lip for 50 years. And yet his state and local governments are crapping on him with all these new anti-smoking laws and regulations.
So while we should certainly discourage young people from smoking (even though the more we do, the cooler it gets), I say let the old people choke down their heaters. They’ve lived full, rich lives – and they don’t need young whipper-snappers telling them what’s healthy and what’s not. Here’s to you, old people – enjoy the full, rich feeling of your lungs being overtaken by delicious tar.