Back in the day all the big thinkers smoked pipes. I’m no scientist, but stand certain that the intake of tobacco was like ‘miracle grow’ for the brain. Think of the great philosophers, think of the great writers, think Albert Einstein, Sherlock Holmes and Che Guevara. By the 1950’s smoking simply changed shape, you weren’t a Hollywood heartthrob unless you had a cigarette dangling loosely from your lips. Take James Dean and Marlon Brando, men wanted to be them and girls wanted to fuck them. Why? Smoking… without cigarettes they would have just been a couple of incredibly handsome gays.
Even Cartoons saw the potential and jumped on the smoking bandwagon. You’ve all seen Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Pluto with a crafty fag in their mouth. Then there were the regulars, the ginger boss from Inspector Gadget and that spinach breath twat Popeye. It wasn’t until the creation of Cyril Sneer from ‘The Racoons’ however, that they hit the jackpot. That crazy pink millionaire smoked cigar after cigar and had a nose shaped like a pipe… what a double whammy.
Things are no different today. Take school for instance, it’s always the boys smoking behind the bike sheds that get the girls and subsequent sticky fingers. The nicotine free are sat in the library blushing as they type ‘vagina’ into a search engine. If you want to be taken seriously as a modern day rock star it is essential that you are man enough to say, ‘fuck you smoking ban,’ and spark up on stage. To this day it is still near impossible to find a cooler sight than Keith Richards with a glowing cigarette tucked behind the head strings of his guitar.
The power of smoking hasn’t been lost on the pornography industry either. During regular outings to porn sites I have found myself tapping away at the keyboard until ‘girl smoking’ appears next to the search option. Each time I have delighted in literally coming across visions of lipstick drenched sluts smoking whilst being pummelled from behind. But in my defence of that discovery (for those that may be offended) it wasn’t in the name of research… I do have a penchant for smoking porn stars.
I could take this non debate further by introducing drug use and how ‘Breaking Bad’ has put Meth smoking on the map of the masses… but there is no need. The title of this blog stands tall and true with the simple use of good old fashioned tobacco. I need not stray away from “real life” either. The anti-smokers will point to the damage it inflicts on ones health, but advice on what’s good and what’s not changes by the hour. Nobody knows. We’ll die when we die. The cleanest living souls known to man can die young and those that smoke and drink daily can live into their late nineties. So take all your research and fuck off, we go when it’s meant to be, don’t try and influence or control life’s lottery.
It’s as clear as the grey matter emanating from a cigarette that smoking is a recipe for success. The indoor smoking ban can’t stop it and never will. Forcing people to smoke outside of pubs and bars has created a useful icebreaker for chatting people up when asking for a light, and it’s always the smokers at work (away from the prying eyes of the office) that get the best gossip and inside knowledge.
The best use of smoking for me is during my journey to and from work. Little is more frustrating than trying to zigzag your way through the Karen Brady and Alan Sugar wannabes. Smoking removes that zigzag and allows one to walk (or more likely strut) in a straight line. The non conforming general public fucking hate smokers. The slightest whiff of a cigarette can cause deformed scowling faces. People immediately let you by or even cross the road to be rid of you. I’ve even heard tales of smokers being asked by commuters to put out their cigarette so they can walk in clean air… the fucking cheek of it.
Waiting at traffic lights become a particular delight, the smoker becomes tantamount to a person that has let go of a highly spiced fart in a crowded elevator. But the most productive of commutable smokes comes with the rain. With the lower sky suddenly littered with umbrella’s getting to work becomes like tackling the ‘Gauntlet’ from ‘Gladiators.’ Spark up however and Wolf, Jet, Shadow and Co soon fuck off. On approaching the umbrella I thrive on aiming my smoke directly into the plastic dome. The owner soon melts to the curb seemingly suffocating in a glass case of emotion.
If a snooty female ever asks me to put out my cigarette on route to work I already have my answer,
‘I’m sorry madam, but I don’t see the giant no smoking sign in the sky… besides, I’m fucking going places.’
'Life's a shit and so am I' 