At the back of the hill

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Tuesday, June 26, 2018


The last smoke of the evening could have been more ... peaceful. Years ago, when we tobacco aficionados were first chased outdoors, I warned that little kiddies, seeing us poncing around happy and debonair with our adult habits, would strive to become as cool as we were.

"When I grow up, I wanna smoke a pipe!"

Also cigars. Stogies. Not cigarettes or vapes, though, because those people are immature, squirrel-y, and furtive. And their vices are associated with rushed people outside office buildings and puritanical heffalumps screaming that you are all going to die if you continue doing that. As well as a security guard coming out to insist that everyone must go twenty five feet away from all doors, windows, and airvents, at the curb, and around the corner.

Or young vulgar tech-industry migrants from the rest of the country lounging in front of hip bars, contemplating physical congress with risky strangers of an appropriate gender: "last night was wonderful, your tattoos / piercings look gorgeous in the morning light, I'll call you sometime". Which is unwise, but tempting when you're in your early twenties, living on your own for the first time, and earning more money than you know what to do with.

The tech industry is responsible for more venereal diseases, drug deaths, and the spread of the bubonic plague among yuppies than any other field. And smoking related health issues are so far in the future that they're not worth thinking about. It's natural selection. Plus cigarettes and vapes.

But cigars and pipes are superior.
And look totally groovy.

What I overlooked at that time was that crazy street people long after dark also want to be cool.

"Hey man, got weed?" No. "It smells like cocaine here." Oh. "Or is that just me?" Yes. "Tobacco, huh?" Yep. "Just tobacco." Uh huh. "Can I have a cigarette?" No cigs. "Got any loose tobacco I can roll?" Not on me.
"Oh well, I don't have papers any way."

"Got papers?"

After a while we bid each other good night, he wandered off down the street, and I revisited the drink I had left inside on the counter.
Where my extra pipe and tobacco were.
Blonde Virginia flake.

If you don't want America's little children to become crazy street people, you need to chase all the smokers back indoors.
We're so tempting otherwise.

By the way, and apropos of nothing in particular, more doctors smoke camels than any other cigarette.


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