An assault on smoker's rights
![[Picture]](82_3_i.gif)
|
Wildcat File Photo
Arizona Daily Wildcat
Tony Carnavale
|
I don't smoke. I've never smoked, actually. Not once. I've had no illicit junior-high bathroom experimentations, no quasi-abusive father-son "I'll make him smoke a cigarette now so he'll never try it later" encounters. The concept of intentionally inhaling smoke of any kind is entirely foreign to me, and no amount of cool-looking Hollywood smoking scenes have been able to change that. To me, smoking is slightly less alluring than flossing my ass with barbed wire.
Now, I'm not against smoking because of any sort of nebulous moral convictions. Indeed, the Darwinism of smoking is actually quite appealing: Those people malleable or dumb enough to be taken in by the tobacco industry's incessant media onslaught become addicted, develop lung cancer and die early. Where I draw the line, however, is in smokers' implicit assumption that their chosen method of suicide should also be yours. When it's 30 below outside, my smoking friend wants to sit outside. Even if his hand is frozen permanently into the cigarette-holding position, he still must sit outside. And if I'm inside at a smoking-prohibited establishment, and so much as cough, suddenly I am the enemy. "Is my smoke bothering you?" my friend asks with a condescending tone, glaring at me with the smoke-filled eyes of a demon just before it pulverizes a small puppy.
"Yes," I admit sheepishly.
My friend continues to hold his glare. I have no power against him. He can blow smoke in my face, but what can I do? Hold my breathe until I turn varying shades of indigo and violet? Yeah, people complain about secondhand smoke all the time. You're probably sick of it by now. "Constitution this," you whine, a rivulet of drool glistening on your blubbery lips. "Civil rights that." And you're absolutely correct. The 6th Amendment does expressly make a provision for the right to Camel Lights. Far be it from me to infringe that. However, I can't escape the fact that you making me breathe smoke is tantamount to physical assault. What I advocate is mere self-defense.
Since cigarette smoke is some nasty shit, I've developed a gun that doesn't fire bullets, but shit. I call it the PoopZooka 5000, and it's quite easy to use. Load that sucker up with whatever dookie you please - it can be your dog's or your own, depending on your mood - and you're good to go. At the instant you detect an offending whiff of carcinogen, locate the smoker in the PoopZooka's telescopic sight and fire away. A boom, a splat, and someone's going to have to use mouthwash twice when he gets home, all before you can say, "You've come a long way, baby." Since the PoopZooka 5000 can hold a good five gallons of turd, it's fairly large, but that's okay. The PoopZooka's visibility means you'll rarely need to actually use it. Smokers, despite their inhibited olfactory glands, will still be able to smell it 1/20th of a mile away. They might have time to put out their lit butt before you strike. And if they don't, then they will soon understand what it's like to inhale shit. And they will like it.
|
