Mind if I…?

Can someone please explain to me the smoker’s concept of “an individual’s right to choose?” You see, smokers like to make the claim that “it is MY body and MY health, so I can do whatever I want to it. Besides, it doesn’t hurt anyone else.” Oh-kay…The smoker’s conscience has always fascinated me: because they are usually walking contradictions.


After all, it’s not entirely uncommon to see someone finish off his jog by lighting up on a park bench, or a parent getting quite upset that her lovely 10-year-old Jimmy had his first puff (Found mommy’s stash, did you – right next to that huge purple rubber lollipop that goes ‘Bzzzzzzzz…?’ ) . But my favorite example of smokers’ cognitive dissonance is when they ask permission to light up around me – the non-smoker.

“Uh… Mind if I smoke?”

Seriously, what’s up with that? Smoker X can very well go ahead and light up – after all, it’s HIS body and HIS health, but I don’t really want to be around to inhale the putrid smell of second-hand smoke (Let’s not even begin to mention the health hazards of second-hand smoke!). Being around for second-hand smoke, to me, is really like walking in on your uncle masturbating…

Using with leather straps, whips and chains.

With your pet hamster.

And a car battery.

Hey, THEIR dirty habit, THEIR bodies and THEIR health… those sickos. But you still don’t want to walk in on that anyway, do you? (Unless you’re perverted that way… are you?) After all, their perversion doesn’t affect you, but it sure as hell overwhelmingly nauseates your SENSES! You don’t want to be there for the second-hand “enjoyment,” no matter how much pleasure sweaty, overweight uncle Robbie seems to derive – moaning, heaving and grunting while little Hamtaro the hamster goes “Squeeeee!!!” Unless, of course, you’ve always had a thing for hamsters, whips, leather, chains and car batteries, or you’re just pathetic and choose to live vicariously through the experiences of others (my apologies to all the voyeurs out there… get a life!).

So it’s pretty much the same idea when it comes to a smoker asking me if I mind him lighting up. I think I’ll start answering:

“Mind if you smoke? Sure, not a problem at all! Just as long as you don’t mind watching me masturbate right here in front of you and, when I’m done, smear my ejaculate all over your clothes and hair – giving you the pleasant whiff of salted fish, announcing to the world that, yes, you’ve been in the presence of a masturbator, though you certainly didn’t partake in that nasty habit.”

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