ANGRY WHITE WOMEN

The first thing I do after my apartment mate has left for the day is firmly shut her bedroom door and open a window, so that I can smoke. She dislikes the smell, but unlike Caucasians does not have that severely entitled disapproval of things that would turn her into a harpy at the slightest. And the key thing is that both of us are quite comfortable living like this. We're hospitable to the other person's peculiarities. Supportive even. I supect a white person would lecture me about how two or three of my habits are ruining the planet and going to kil me, for whatever imagined reason.


"Stop eating so much chilipaste, it's cultural approriative and tortures little kittens. You should add butterflies to your food instead. And perform appreciative spiritual gestures while cooking, like the Wahaku do."


Liking hot food and smoking a pipe are, of course, known signs of a colonialist mindset.
Signs that one hates kittens, butterflies, and children.
Engages in rain-forest destruction.
A gluten eater!

Regarding tobacco, Anglo women fall into three categories, the largest of which know for a fact that it requires slave labour in the salt mines of Ganymede, gives children ulcers, and ruins the planet. There's a vast floating waste raft out in the ocean composed of discarded tobacco products that kills penguins and harp seals, like the Canadians, and I'm contributing to that! Somebody should do something! Unleash the Greta Thunberg! Forthwith! Storm the barricades! Howl, and hold a concert to raise awareness!

The second category just loves the aroma. Rancid vanillin reminds them of grampa, and Gandalf, and precious little hobbits.

The third believes that tobacco is an offering to the ancestors of peaceful natives who were spiritual, in touch with the earth, and sincerely practiced art while dancing around carefully craft-constructed altars where the best fruits of the Autumn season were worshipfully offered; we should thank those natives for their wisdom and insight. And oppose imperialism in all it's forms, evil white male!


There is a small minority, almost insignificantly miniscule, that differs from all the above and has little inclination to imitate them. Han Chinese. They have relatives that smoke, or know people who do. A few of them also indulge. But because they don't roam the world in vast herds screaming imprecatives, no one really notices them.

[Except to complain about their frightful habits, like stir-frying (penguin slave labour) and silk making, which sexually exploits bombyx mori. Or caligraphy, which drives you insane and is a form of boogah-boogah mind control.]

You know, almost everything I do is bad, and destructive to the planet. Later on today I will probably do some laundry, which kills shrimp in the tidal estuaries and innocent tribals in the Amazon, after which I'll probably go out for a bite to eat, impoverishing tidal shrimp and Amazonian tribes, followed by enjoying a bowl of tobacco and some milk tea.
Both of which are horribly traumatizing for shrimp and tribals.



At the present, I am drinking my second cup of coffee, which may or may not come from ethically sourced beans -- which does not detract even one iota from the enjoyment, so it's immaterial -- and smoking a bowl of Fribourg & Treyer Cut Blended Plug (fine long pressed Virginia flakes made of tobacco mostly sourced from Africa, made in Denmark, and imported by Laudisi I think). Doing this is torturing a kitten or butterfly several blocks over, probably.
And traumatizing an angry white woman.
My piles bleed for them.



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