Gone to Smoke. Don't Fuck With My City.

Writing this blog is a bit of an evolutionary process. I didn't start out with any clear topic in mind other than to grouse endlessly about my petty First-World Irritations. While this is no doubt charming to people who think on the same lines that I do (roughly .00000001% of America), I believe I'm really homing in on the politics, culture and daily life of New York City. Sorry rest of the world. Please feel free to move on to all the wonderful blogs about Des Moines or Shreveport or Leeds or whatever shit-hole you decided was a better place to live than NYC.
Now that that dickish little anti-everywhere-else screed is out of the way, I'd like to point out, I'm not nearly this much of an asshole in real life. I'm kind of Asshole Light which is a lot like Amstel Light which is hardly offensive and actually sounds appealing provided the name  is being spoken by Metallia frontman James Hetfield.

Barkeep! On bottle of AM-stel LY-TAH for my beard(s) if you would be so kind.

I find it difficult to keep my assholishness in check when I write largely due to the fact that, no matter how highly I sing it's praises the City and it's inhabitants are relentless in their search to find fresh new ways to piss me off. For example, ever since Fiorello LaGuardia left the mayor's office in 1945, it would appear that there has been a secret clause to ensure that nearly every mayor after him would be a gigantic prick. Mike Bloomberg is a perfect example of this. Actually, Rudy Giuliani is a perfect example, but speaking his name causes him to manifest and increase in power much like Beetlejuice or The Candyman. By this logic I can only assume that typing his name does no less than give him a "woody" so I try to refrain whenever I can and drink to unconsciousness when I cannot. But I digress.

Bloomberg, while not the perfect prick, is rather a mixed bag of prick, asshole and surprising cool dude that has made him a fairly successful mayor. The biggest gripe that many New Yorkers have with the man is his adherence to Giuliani's (GAAHH! I did it again!) Disneyfication of the city. Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for lower crime and better parks and making the place a better place to raise *shudder* children, but do we really need to ban cigarettes in public? I already pay 12 fucking dollars a pack, man! I already have to go outside to smoke in the dead of winter! I already have to endure being coughed at by passerby every time I have to enter the dreaded enclave of self-righteous, misplaced suburbanites that is Park Slope! And you're gonna tell me that I can't light up in a park? As the founding fathers said in the Declaration of Independence: Get the fuck outta here with that shit! We've all heard the arguments of the health risks of second hand smoke. What these people with over delicate shonzes can't seem to grasp is that A) those studies pertained to people in enclosed areas that much more closely resemble the bars and restaurants from which we are already banned, and B) do you see that diesel truck over there? What about the city bus that's behind it? And that stretch Hummer that appears to have fallen out of a giant man's crotch? Those delightful vehicles are spewing WAY WAY WAY more carcinogens out of their tailpipes than I am blowing out of my mouth. Here, let's listen to what an expert with a clear anti-smoking bias has to say about outdoor smoke:




Pretty scary stuff. Well, right up until the end anyways when the narrator let's fly with all the "could's" and "possibly's" that he had been trying so hard not to use throughout the rest of the video. He also glosses over the whole "dissipates quickly" thing in favor of "being aware of (your) exposure". Hey you know what else "could" "possibly" happen in NYC? You "could" "possibly" fall onto some subway tracks and then you "could" "possibly" get run over by a train in which case you will "dissipate quickly" from this planet  because you were not "being aware of (your) exposure" to the very deadly First-Hand Edge of Platform Body Placement that was combined with Second-Hand Bumped Into You Cause Some Self-Important Dick Was in a Rush to Get Somewhere Not At All Important. There are thousands of more likely ways you will die on any given day than catching a whiff of my cigarette and, should this ban pass, being savagely beaten to death by a nicotine-deficient smoker will probably be one of them.
You know, just because we are addicted to a dangerous chemical doesn't mean we are spawned from Satan's perineum. We are usually just average people who engage in something that is not particularly healthy. If you have a problem with the smoke, just ask if the person would mind not smoking around you. One of two things will happen. The smoker will politely oblige or they will say some permutation of the word "fuck" as directed at your person. But before you go demanding everyone snuff that Marb out whenever they come within a 50-foot radius of you, here is a handy guide to imposing your personal preferences on other people:

Scenario: You sit down at a park bench/sunny patch of grass/ outdoor cafe table where someone nearby, who was there before you, is smoking is smoking a cigarette. You ask them to stop.
Outcome: "Fuck off."

Scenario: You are walking down the sidewalk and stop at a red light. A smoker walks up and stands next to you a moment later. You ask them to stop. (Smoking, that is. They've already stopped walking, but that's very thoughtful of you.)
Outcome: "Fuck off and die."

Scenario: You are at home and your downstairs neighbor is a smoker. Every so often you can smell cigarette smoke coming from their apartment. You ask them to stop.
Outcome: "Go fuck yourself."

Scenario: Since asking people to stop smoking hasn't worked out very well for you in the past, you decide to be a sanctimonious ass and cough at every smoker you see regardless if you can smell it or not.
Outcome: You get fucked up for being a sanctimonious ass.

Scenario: You are at the park/beach/outdoor congregating area and are finally having a blissful, smoke-free moment. A smoker sits down near you and lights up. Still sore from the beating you caught the last time, you swallow your rage and politely ask the smoker to put out their cigarette or move away from your delicate nasal passage and/or small *shudder* children.
Outcome: "Oh sure. Sorry about that"

Now isn't that easy? Oh and if you were wondering, no, I did not quit smoking yet.