The cigarette industry has really taken it in the butt this century, so can we please focus on some positives? After all, as we evolve toward a more tolerant society insistent upon creating a level playing field of fairness for everyone, we really should stop the addiction shaming. Sure, those fine orally fixated folks willingly welcome a small forest fire into their respiratory system with each flick of the Bic, but who are we to judge? After all, it is their human right to laminate their lungs with a fresh chimney soot smoothie powered by a benzene boost. 

You know, there’s a reason they call them cancer sticks. It’s because the cancer sticks to your lungs.

Anyway, smoking is literally exhausting. This explains why if I were to be blindfolded and asked to identify the mystery scent effervescing from your mouth into my fresh nostrils, my first guess would be exhaust. Because when you waft that wheeze, I recall a frantic chase toward a departing metro bus as the tailpipe burps out a cocktail of scorched, highly refined fossil fuels directly into my clenched face. 

But hey, not everyone is addicted, right? I mean, some users will claim they strictly smoke for enjoyment. Unfortunately, this enjoyment leads them out the door to an area twenty-five feet away from the building entrance an average of ten times a day just to light up. But am I the only one who sees this ritual for enjoyment as a monumental inconvenience?

Cigarette abusers will vehemently defend their crutch with any explanation in an attempt to convince you that there is at least one positive result to come from the act of smoking them. “It calms my nerves,” they will sheepishly assert.

No, it doesn’t. You know what calms your nerves? Counseling.

Anyway, cigarettes are awesome and healthy!

Marijuana cigarettes, that is.