Thursday, March 16, 2006

John Mellencamp ‘Big Daddy’

I woke up today and I did something that I rarely do. I looked in the mirror.

I’m not much for looking at myself in the mirror. I utilize the looking glass when I’m on pimple “search and destroy” missions, shaving, or digging something out of my eyes because I wear contacts. I just don’t spend a whole lot of time admiring myself. I’ve never been that way.

But this morning, my hair caught my attention. It was acting the way I want it to act. It was standing up in all kinds of weird directions giving me that “heroin chic” look that I like so much.

And yeah… I like that look on women too.

It won’t last for long because I’ll take a shower soon and have to get all presentable-like for work.

Why do we have to conform to the ideas of others as to how we should represent ourselves?

If Stevie Wonder doesn’t give a damn how I look, why should anyone else?

But that’s not the way life is… I will be judged by how I look and not by my actions. It’s not easy being “underground dangerous”.

I received ‘Good Night And Good Luck’ from Netflix and I found time to watch it. And that has to be the smokiest movie in film history. If that movie is a true reflection of the 40’s and 50’s, apparently EVERYONE smoked back then. There were no Volvo-driving hippies wringing their hands bitching about the effects of second hand smoke. I can’t remember if there were children in the movie, but if there was, you can better believe they were lighting up, baby!

If the film was correct, Edward R. Murrow actually smoked while broadcasting his show on CBS.

In this day and time, I cannot imagine newscasters smoking on television. We can’t even smoke in the building where Rock 92 is.

I’m not a smoker, but I believe in smoker’s rights. Is that crazy?

Yeah, I’m all for non-smoking sections in restaurants. I don’t want my eating establishments “smoke free” because I want to get away from unruly children whose parents let them run naked and wild. I have also found that you have less of those loud and noisy birthday celebrations in the smoking section. You know what I’m talking about… The restaurant’s staff claps and sings through the place and that annoys the hell out of me. The smoking sections are usually kid and birthday free.

So usually, you will find me eating in the smoking section of most restaurants. I don’t get uptight about second-hand smoke because I feel that it’s wasted energy.

For example… Those nazi-like non-smoking types will complain and protest about second smoke. They will go to great lengths to make trouble for people who smoke just because they don’t dare take ANY smoke into their pink lungs. But… They can get into their cars and die in a tragic auto accident on the way home.

I feel that we have no guarantees as to when our clocks will stop so I don’t waste a whole lot of time worrying about second hand smoke.

I even carry a Bic lighter because you never know when a lady may need a light. I have met quite a few interesting people that way. Especially those smokers of the feminine variety.

For those of you who are uptight about second hand smoke, please… lighten the hell up! There are no guarantees in writing explaining how long you’re going to live. Eat right, exercise, and breathe clean air… Guess what? You’re going to die anyway.

I don’t eat right but I do exercise because it makes me feel good and it allows me to keep up my strength and stamina. And if you don’t want to breathe second hand smoke, don’t go to places where smoking is allowed. Don’t make everyone else conform to your ideas and wishes. The world doesn’t revolve around you.

I really didn’t mean to go there, but hey, I just let my fingers and brain go where they wanted to go.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous2:22 AM

    Lung cancer and emphysema aside, if they could find a way to make cigarettes that did not leave me smelling like an ash tray.. that would be grand. There is not much worse than being somewhere for like 5 minutes and having to spend the rest of the day smelling like I just smoked 6 packs of Newports or Camels or whatever. They can spend all their money and black up their lungs all they want, just leave me, my hair and my clothes out of it.