There's Something About a Cigar

Effective January 1st 2007 one will no longer be able to smoke in bars, clubs, etc., anywhere in DC. No cigarettes, no cigars, and sad sad sadly, no pipes or hookas. I understand the argument. Really it's not such a bad one - secondhand smoke does suck. Especially if you're trying to eat. And I couldn't imagine how horrible it would be to get cancer if you weren't even intentionally taking the risks.

Then again, part of me just wants to say, grow a pair of balls you goddamn hippies.

I refer you to a selection from a play written by a young Jack Kerouac, which is the namesake for this blog:

"But, there's something about a cigar just the same. Like the time I walked out of a movie in New York and began to walk home along Broadway. I was cold, and shy of the world. Suddenly, I saw a cigar store. I said to myself, "Zagg, you're going to go in there and buy yourself a cigar. What for? I don't know. I'm glad I don't know. I don't want to know. I'll just buy one and smoke it." So I bought a cigar and lit it, and walked out and went right along the street, a new man. I looked at everyone with new interest, because the cigar gave me courage. It made me say, "Well hello there. How the hell are you, you little pavement cipher, you little nameless, faceless cinder of Wolfe? I'm Zagg and I've got a cigar and I don't give a damn for anything, nor do I reject anything. I think that you're an ugly puss, but I like you because you inhabit this earth with me and we're both in the same boat.""

You get the idea. There's something morbidly noble about smoking - about saying to the world that you know the consequences and fuck it, you choose wrongly on purpose and to hell with everything else.