Bob’s interweb party house

I’m sick of hearing about things that are bad for you.  Sick of it.  I’ve been lectured on the perils of smoking lately, and yes, we’ve all known since what, the sixties, that smoking is bad.  I was never a habitual smoker, I went through that phase in high school because my girlfriend smoked.  Let me tell you, as a young man, if your girlfriend smokes and you don’t like it, there are two paths you can take — get a new girlfriend or start smoking.  It’s amazing how quickly that old metaphor about kissing an ashtray goes away when you start smoking too.  But that was high school, and I never developed the addiction, so it was easy for me to quit.

Then for years after high school I didn’t smoke cigarettes at all (well, unless you count those funny ones you roll yourself).  Sometime in the past few years someone (yeah, you, Darryl) turned me on to good cigars.  I have to say, I thought cigars were disgusting things and the thought of them always conjured up George Carlin saying, “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar… and sometimes it’s a BIG BROWN DICK.”  But I challenge you, if you’ve ever smoked ANYTHING and think cigars are disgusting, try a Partagas Limited Reserve.  You might change your mind.  But wait, I’ve lost my focus, I’m not here to lure people into the world of cigars and other vices.  I’m ranting here, dammit!

So now they’re saying that it’s not the NUMBER of cigarettes you smoke that kill you, it’s a crapshoot, and any one of them could trigger the whole cancer thing.  That’s frightening.

So cigars made it easier to have the occasional cigarette.  You start with the cigars, and then you realize you like the occasional smoke, but good cigars are $5-$10 a piece, and you could get a pack of Dunhills (quality British cigarette imports) for $7 and have that “occasional smoke” feeling twenty times.  And that’s the downhill slope.  Pretty soon you’re one of those disgusting government-worker types found outside your office building catching a smoke with your buddy once or twice a day.  SO I come home with stinkyhands, and get a well-deserved lecture.  I know they’re bad, I know I shouldn’t.  I can’t even think of a reason why I do smoke the occasional cigar or cigarette, except that it feels good.  I don’t like them much early in the morning, they tend to upset the balance, especially on an empty stomach.

I have no RIGHT to smoke.  With friends and relatives currently suffering the effects of cancer, what right do I have to even take that risk?  None.  And I’ll probably be completely off them shortly, because the weather’s turning cold, and I freaking HATE to bundle and shiver.  So I’m not one of those diehards that stand outside of a building smoking in freezing weather.  I don’t even do it when it’s drizzling.

I remember years ago during a firearms course being told to wash my hands after shooting or cleaning the weapon, because the lead from the bullets is not coated with anything and will come off on my hands and give me lead poisoning. I distinctly remember the absurdity and irony I detected in that.  But I did, because I don’t want lead poisoning.  I think it’s a damn shame that lead is poisonous, because as far as substances go, lead is one of the more fun metals to play with.  As a child, I used to enjoy scratching the dark finish off of large lead sinkers and wheel-balancing weights to expose the shiny metal.  Soft metals are fun.