ofREH

So. 

There is so much I don’t understand, things that are well beyond my scope and give me a headache to even ponder.
Some philosophical, much practical and sadly, more obvious.
No doubt I spend entirely too much time trying to grasp concepts that I can neither alter nor have much real affect on my life or those I care about, usually with very limited results.
When against a wall of confusion, reeling from an assault of my own failings…I am not too proud to ask for help.
Please…
Why am I paying so much more than you in taxes?? Why am I more responsible to provide new roads, indigent health care, and Drug and alcohol  rehab centers? Why must I support, with my taxes, bailing out banks that would, and have, shown me the door in the past?
~waving raised hand frantically~ ” Oooh ooooh pick me!! pick me!!”
Because I smoke.
Because you don’t.
It doesn’t matter that you make other questionable life choices that I don’t, myself, engage in. Or that I have private health insurance that would see to my short lived hospice care. That, I at least have the courtesy to decline rapidly and expire without need of extended or repeated in-patient care.
If gracious enough to offer explanation, let me please just interrupt for a moment more, to stem the inevitable tide of qualifying liberal, condescending bullshit that you would offer.
It wasn’t second hand smoke that killed my Aunt…it was a drunk driver. It wasn’t second hand smoke that killed my best Friend Jeremy either…it was his habit of injecting whatever heroin laced cocktail du jour into his veins. It sure wasn’t second hand smoke that had a wonderful Man in Patrick, wither away to nothing, leaving us all behind, wondering how…it was his addiction to the unprotected embrace of others.
Before you even begin your sanctimonious rant…fuck you.

Say please.

Miss me with the notion that my choice to smoke somehow infringes on your own need to breath. I love your paneled banners of “Second hand smoke kills!!” plastered to side of busses, spewing more carbon monoxide in five miles than I could in my very long career of smoking.
I don’t smoke around you. I would never think to light up in your car or house. I cringe at the sight of the drifting cigarette smoke of others into anyones path and would never allow it myself.
If you think I reek, my clothing, my breath, my hair…I’ll say the same of your own choice of drenching in Patchouli. The difference, of course, I’ll not burden you with tariffs for the privilege of my having to endure it.

I swore, “fat fucking chance” , that I would EVER pay so much as 75 cents for a pack of cigarettes. I recently paid $11.
Fine. My choice. I could try to quit, I suppose. That’s what you’re driving at right? A campaign to have me quit by fiscal impracticality? Because…you care??
Fuck you.
I should quit. I should quit just to expose you for the fraud you really are.
Consider if I did. Who would pave your roads, who would see your children rehabilitated? Who would provide Emergency Room care for your landscaper when he loses a toe in a weeding accident (Those weeders are gnarly!!) Hmmm? Would you turn to whatever other life choice is out of fashion?
You don’t want me to quit. At least have the balls to look me in the eye as you bend me over.
I have to wonder…when you’re done with me, will you light up afterwards?
Might as well.