Sick Stick Dip

Despite the abundance of bad habits and odd odors which emanate spontaneously from my body, surprisingly I have never smoked. I know the term ‘smoking hot’ is supposed to be a good thing unless of course you are Nascar disc brake or the inside of an overtaxed machine gun barrel. Oh sure I HAVE been ‘smoked’ a few times by smarmy salespeople or from an occasional invite FOR dinner by cannibals, but fortunately I have had few run-ins with classless cigarettes or a gust-fuss from their ruinous fumes.

As a teen I was no stranger to purchasing tobacco though since my first boss often put fire to a Briar while checking my work. So for holiday gifts I would buy the old dude some delightfully fragrant berry blends of the rough-cut stuff for his packing n’ puffing pleasure. Admittedly even I smoked a pipe or two in my life, though I was never proud of it while hidden up in the rafters trying to torch a  poor plumbing job soldering the water lines properly.

Hey just because I admired MacArthur’s stoic prow doesn't  mean I want anything to do with that nasty corncob sprouting out of it – who knows where that thing’s been? Unless somebody’s ribs are on fire and covered in Sweet Baby Ray’s then you can keep your peace-pipe smoke to yourself. Occasionally I will take a drag on a Pretzel Rod since they have all the benefits of fine Cuban cigars except for a few salt bump lesions and the fact that they fracture unpredictably when I cut off the cap.

Yes there’s nothing like taking a satisfying suck on a stick of hard tack in the back of a big car with dark tinted windows, to make you feel really important.  When I gum that wet-ended salty log it quickly inflates my ego without risk of any second-hand hot air escaping into the environment and making my clothes stink a lot more than usual. Hmmm, maybe that’s why I have an insatiable urge to play poker with dogs or call for a ‘hit’ on a mafia rival – I've clearly become addicted and a two-pack per day chain pretzel DIP!