Does anyone remember when smoking was still okay?

I hate to be such a nut about this, but I have such a nostalgic streak about SOME of the way things used to be. Not the casual racism and misogyny – don’t get sidetracked by what you think nostalgia is – but some of the items from the past that made the world seem cool.

I liked when there were no cough guards on salad bars. When that ended I just felt that everything was over, the goodness had run out. We must be slobbering, coughing imbeciles, because Sizzler now has to protect us from each other. It was like the end of the world to me.

And smoking. Everybody used to smoke. We smoked in college classrooms. We smoked at the grocery store. We smoked in bars and restaurants and on planes. Oh, yes, I know it’s a giant KILLER. I’m not an idiot. But nothing ever tasted better to me than a cigarette. And the fire, the control of fire. Fire right here in my hand. Jesus I felt like a god.

Oh, but then the smokers kept getting pushed out of places, out of this place, out of that place. They huddled around outside. Even outside now isn’t enough. 50 yards away, please. Look at my children. MY DARLING CHILDREN. YOU’RE KILLING MY CHILDREN.

It’d be nice if we could all live happily and healthily, and that the things we loved only proved to make us more tan, more loving. But we’re all dying. We’re all 45 seconds closer to dying than when you started reading this blog today. I AM GOING TO DIE from fatness or smoke or driving my car into a canyon or my pancreas will get me. Yes, and don’t be alarmed, but you, too.

My view of it is just mine. You don’t have to share it. You can think I’m a doofus. I want to live, but only live if it’s worthwhile…to me, my wife, my dog, my tiny handful of friends. If they accept me, what I am, what I do, and it brings me happiness in this endlessly, poundingly, depressingly messed up world, then I believe I’m going to do the things that bring me respite from what is clearly a world gone mad, a cough guard replete place that has just about snuffed out goodness.

Oh, and the fucking seat belt beeper in my car. That thing is making me absolutely crazy, too.

About the Author

Bob Hate

Bob was a rock and roll musician who had a failed career playing in clubs in and around Dallas, Texas. He was born in Bossier City, Louisiana in 1958, but then disappeared and was rumored dead in 1999 and later in 2014.

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