More than once, I have been told that smoking is back, and boy howdy, do I get it. Kurt Vonnegut called it the most “fairly honorable form of suicide,” and after Wednesday morning, I was fairly ready to walk down to the gas station and buy a pack of Camel Lights. Sure, there’s the yearly camping trip or night out that results in having a little treat. Still, I felt the urge to reject 15 years of leaving it behind because I know how good it would have felt to fill up my lungs and likely cough it all out, despite the fact that I now find it revolting and that it would really put a damper on the whole running-as-therapy-for-mid-life-crisis thing.
Also, tobacco pouches are for fucking losers. Call me old-fashioned, but Jesus Christ, just smoke. Lung cancer is a pretty awful way to go, but smoking is an awful lot cooler looking than digging around in your Bubble Tape meets cute with Skoal puck.
