Smoking-Live With Us Or Hit The Pavement, Jackson
I smoke a lot. I’m no Jackie Gleason or John Mellencamp, but I like to smoke wherever I go. It’s social, and very calming to the nerves. Most people don’t know that there is a nicotinic receptor in our brains that assist in quicker thinking.
I think the trade-off between smoking and stinking is an OK one.
The only people I will not smoke around are babies. That is not a nice thing to do.
Now, you grownups are a different story.
Why? Because most of you breathe awful air anyway, given the unrestricted ability of corporations to pump shit into your air. Most of you are already breathing garbage. What is the real difference? Not much. If you want to breathe clean air, go join an activist group. Don’t bug us with your turned-up noses. It’s just another way of saying to me that I am an asshole.
Well, you know how I feel about that. Go die. I do not care.
The Indians used to use nicotina rustica all of the time. It was a prayer to their gods. Now here’s the rub; if you abuse the nicotine, then the gods frown and will hurt you. I assume this pain is called cancer. But as long as you respect the plant, believe it or not, the plant is quite helpful in relieving colds. That mucus that comes out of you when you smoke is not your lung or whatever-it happens to be an irritant that the smoke brings up. Tobacco is an excellent poultice for skin wounds. There are a shitload of uses for the tobacco plant.
But as with any plant, it is helpful as long as you don’t get crazy with it. The plant turns on you for taking too much of it. That is the way of the world. Don’t take more than your fair share, otherwise pleasure turns into poison.
Look, if it was good enough for the Indians, it is good enough for me. Indians do not know how old they are. We should all do this. We can then experience everything all the time. A continuous stream of life means a damn long one, instead of counting down towards death.
They like tobacco. So do I. Go breathe in the Mediterranean vistas if you don’t like it. I am certain you can’t afford it. Guess what? There will be smokers of all stripes there.
I like Mike Bloomberg. I think it was necessary to clean up New York. We tend to leave our spent butts everywhere.
The best way to fix this is to learn how to field-strip a butt.
When you are at war, the last thing you want to do is drop evidence that you have been somewhere. Simply roll out the extra tobacco onto the ground, scatter it, and put the butt in your pocket. It may smell worse than the smoke, depending on who you are.
So: Look at the headlines. Are the things you see nice? Does a cigarette really matter in the long run? There is only one correct answer.
If you choose like a fool, once again, go away. Go jump in a lake, go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut, eat my shorts.