Well, just to shut the Birdman’s beak, here’s another glorious rant from yours truly, Pike Pole.
Ya know what burns my ass? Ya know what winds my crank? Ya know what sticks in my craw? Ya know what really pisses me off? I’ll tell ya what. Smokers, that’s what. Cigarettes. Let the fuckin’ debate begin! Now, first of all I should preface the fact that I used to smoke. I quit about 25 years ago. Cold turkey. Set ‘em down and never picked ‘em up again. What did it for me was when I opened a pack of butts on my way to work and during my eight hour shift, I opened another. That was my eye opener.
Man, there was nothing better than peeling off that cellophane wrapper, grasping the deck in my left hand – then lightly with the right, using both thumbs to push the bottom to reveal the paper backed silver foil wrappers up top, then removing the left side of the foil (if you start your deck on the right side, you’re fucked in the head) with the right hand and finally grasping that filter tipped paper tube of glorious tobacco goodness. This ballet of the hands could be performed without thought, in the dark of night, in the light of day, blistering heat or freezing cold; it didn’t matter. Then to put that filter to your lips, strike a match or flick a Bic, put the flame to the opened tip of that glorious paper tube of tobacco goodness, and like sucking on the straw of a McDonald’s milkshake in the dead cold of February, the mouth is full and finally the larynx opens, chest heaves forth and the glorious grey goodness enters the lungs and releases a euphoria of delight throughout the body… heaven, pure heaven.
Then, enough was enough. I quit. That was it; the end. It wasn’t all that hard either. Sure, there were moments when I would’ve chopped off a finger for a weedstick, but I made it. The hardest times for me were after a meal or when I was out having a few drinks. Let me tell you, even when I smoked, I absolutely hated cigarette smoke around when I ate. I used to work with a guy that could eat his lunch and smoke at the same time. Take a bite of his sandwich and then a drag off his smoke. That used to fuckin’ near make me vomit! For all I know, he’s pushing up daisies now.
So, back to the debate and the fact that you smokers piss me off. I think we’ve established that I was a fairly hard core smoker once upon a time. But, I was always respectable towards those folks that didn’t smoke, and when I became a non-smoker I expected that same treatment to reciprocate. Holy shit, was I in a delusional state of mind or what! Surely I wasn’t that bad? Was I? Of course not, give your gawd damned head a shake! So we’ve gone from having smoking areas indoors, to banishing you stinky fuckers out to where you belong out in the wild outdoors. I mean really, where else could a smoking area be other than outdoors. The imaginary line on the floor sure as hell did sweet fuck all. I remember one time when me and Mrs. Pike Pole went out for dinner. “Smoking or Non?” we were asked. I said Non. We were seated at a table beside a three foot wall that separated us from an adjoining table. No biggie, right? Then a family gets seated at the table beside us and out come the smokes.
“Um, excuse me my dear waitress, I asked for a non-smoking table; could you please sit us at a non-smoking table?”
” This is the non-smoking area, sir.”
“Is that table right beside us in the smoking area?”
“Yes sir, it is.”
Needless to say, we left. That just boggled my mind. I still can’t comprehend that whole concept of an imaginary line that was supposed to have magical like powers at smoke blockage. Or maybe the smokers just didn’t give a shit. So now you’re banished outdoors.
Then we heard the collective cough and wheeze from the smokers that they have rights. Fuck ‘em. You think you got rights? What about your responsibilities? You know, like not poisoning your fellow man for starters. Then we can discuss the burden you are to the health care system and consequently the entire society. Get the fuck outside and stay there! Then, because you stinky assed, narcissistic, self righteous fuckers wouldn’t conform to the ever increasing majority of non-smokers, the government had to enact laws to make you get out where you belong, so you and your “habit” didn’t poison the rest of us. And you know what, the law says that you have to be 9 metres from the entrance to a building. That means get the fuck away from the doors! Geezus, how many times do us non-smokers have to run the gauntlet of cigarette heaters and obnoxious smoke just to come and go from a building. I don’t give a shit if it’s 3000 degrees below zero and sixteen feet of fucking snow in a gawd damn rain storm with wind gusts of a hundred miles an hour; get away from the doors, OK! Then we hear the whine; oh my gawd the fucking whine. I’m addicted. I can’t quit. Bull fucking shit! You made a choice to start smoking, didn’t ya? Now make a choice to quit smoking. It takes 21 days to start a habit. It’s time to get busy.
Now I think I’ll go have a cigar, because cigars don’t count.
…she’s a healthy dose of heaven for a man hooked on sin…
(editor’s note: I think Pike may have gone a little overboard this time. I’m not saying this because I’m afraid of backlash from the smoker demographic, because I already know I can outrun your wheezing asses.)