Every once in a while I need to break into my regularly scheduled posts for the week and write something fresh. In the moment. Topical.

You know what’s on my mind? Smoking.

I’ve spent the past couple of weeks in Vegas (sorta) and I have no idea why people still smoke.

I know, I know. You are an addict and Chantix makes you weird. Fine. I get that. And this is America (blah blah blah) and you can do what you want with your body. Great. You’re a real patriot.

But I hate how tobacco companies still (allegedly) use crazy marketing techniques to hook kids at a young age.  I hate ads that prey on minority communities. And I know adult women in their 40s and 50s who continue to smoke for fear of gaining weight if they try to quit.

Listen, I hate it all — and weirdly enough I also hate employers who try to monitor and regulate private behavior. You want to be a freak and smoke? Good for you. Have a box of donuts while you’re at it.

I’m the last person to endorse a nanny state but sometimes it seems like a good idea to ban smoking. Kinda. I know that I can’t shame you into quitting. You don’t really care about my opinion. I do worry about you, though. And I hate coming home from Vegas feeling sick (truly) from all that cigarette smoke because you feel the need to feed your addiction.

[Side note: Don’t tell me not to go to Vegas if I don’t want to be around smokers unless you want me to tell you to stop being a tool of the tobacco companies.]

I’m not sure where all of this is going but can we all agree that a company has no right to know about your smoking habits? No? No? Fine. Sorry to cut this short but I have to decontaminate my suitcase and my clothing. I smell like an ashtray.


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