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!
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