I’m sorry, I feel horrible about this, but I have to make a confession: I fucking love smoking.
I know, I know, I’m a horrible person for saying that, and I should get cancer and die. But guess what asshole? I already have cancer and I've been wanting to die since the day I was born. I'm wild like that.
That’s right, here’s me, driving down the Highway to Hell, smoking a Camel and loving it. What can I say? I was born to live on the edge, baby. I like my heavy metal music with satanic messages and I like smoking cigarettes where I’m not supposed to; like indoors, or under a “no smoking” sign. Damn! I’m fucking twisted!
I like to consider myself a professional smoker. No one can get cancer like I can. I taught Cancer Man from the X-Files how to handle the glories of smoking. I'm the one who got James Dean addicted. Every month I go to a lung cancer patient's hospital room and throw them a surprise party congratulating them for their achievement. I feel that I am doing my part as an American citizen in fighting the war on terror, because it's so much cooler to die in the glorious fire of deteriorated lung than it is to die of Jihad. Fucking terrorists, none of them even smoke.
With that said, I want to pass this knowledge on, and start a revolution. Yes, revolution calls my name and he's speaking thought the hole in his throat. Let us all unite, share Bic lighters, and try our best not to lose any of them.
For those of you who are novice smokers or want to begin smoking but don’t know where to start, let me help you. All your really need to have is lungs, and a certain special hatred for your lungs making you want to destroy them. In that sense, you've got to have a wild, maverick-like punk-rock spirit. If you think you have these qualities, I think you are ready to light up. Children of all ages may apply.
For the rest of the article, I would like all you smokers to raise your fist and light one up as you read this, because somewhere out there, I'm on the shores of Japan smoking one with you.
I present to you...
SMOKER’S CHOICE: THE TOP FIVE MUST SMOKE MOMENTS
Being the suspicious guy in a burgundy trench coat: I’ve been going to the local elementary school every Wednesday for the past three months, trying to pick up the girlies in Mrs. Hansen’s third grade class. They are really looking good this year. For some reason, it wasn’t working out for me. What could I have been doing wrong? I was in full pedophilia mode: burgundy trench coat, Confederate flag T-shirt, combat boots, and a pocket full of Jolly Ranchers.
I realized one day after watching a pedophilia training video what I was doing wrong: I wasn’t smoking. The realization of this really kicked me in the balls. It was like the time I realized that Scientology was the right religion for me. Yeah, it was that big.
What do you do to look as prolific as possible and get all the under-aged babes you want? Pop a Jolly Rancher? Fuck no! You smoke a motherfuckin’ cigarette, that’s what! Everyone knows that you save the Jolly Ranchers for the kids. Amateur.
While on a stakeout: Something suspicious is going down at the warehouse. Your girlfriend might be cheating on you. Your mother is suspected to be part of an underground drug ring. All of those situations prompt a stakeout. Before you go on a stakeout, there are a few things you should put on your "stakeout checklist":
1. If it's not already raining, bring a "sounds of the rain" CD.
2. Black wool beanie.
3. A stolen pistol.
4. A shady car.
5. A pack of motherfuckin' cigarettes
6. Bad attitude.
I can remember my first stakeout like it was yesterday (because it was). It was 12:39 a.m., and I was sitting in my mint colored Chevy Blazer waiting for the "waitress with the tits" to get off work. Cupid's arrow has stabbed me once again, and I was prancing in the land of the fantastical wet dream.
As I was waiting, I had a copy of "The Economist" and a pack of Marlboro reds on the passenger seat. What could I do to look intellectual, dashing, and suave? If you adjusted your corncob pipe and said "Why, read The Economist of course!" you're dead wrong! I cranked up the David Allen Coe (because it was already raining) and smoked a motherfuckin' cigarette! About fifteen minutes after she saw me, I was rawdoggin' it with her on the bed of my pickup. Mission accomplished!
The Red Light Stare: You’re driving an economy car, stopped at a red light when a fancy sports car with decals of dragons all over it pulls up next to you. The couple inside the car looks at you with mocking eyes: a culturally confused Asian kid and a valley girl. You look at them, and then your watch…you realize it’s time for you to come up with the best non-verbal “fuck you” possible.
You reach into your center consol and pull out a cigarette and light it up with one flick of the lighter. What really drives the point home is the fact that right after your cigarette is lit, EVERYTHING TURNS SLOW-MO. You are taking a long drag from your cigarette and you turn towards them (in slow-mo) as super-dramatic, reverb-heavy guitar wails fill the air. Where is that sound coming from? Up on the overpass there is a jazzy black pimp making love to his red Stratocaster, and he is smoking too.
The couple across from you is in awe, and the sheer intensity of this moment just gave them Downs Syndrome. For the fatality, you do the “slow-mo eye blink” as you turn away and screech off, totally running the red light.
Bar fight: Every time I go to a bar I end up in a bar fight. Everybody knows that when I walk into a bar and light up a cigarette, something is going down. It's always the same:
Guy that's about to die: "Hey buddy! Hey! Why you talkin' to ma girl?"
Me: "Because she just gave me a hummer in the bathroom and now I'm telling her that I have AIDS…so she's totally fucked now"
Guy that's about to die: “Oh fuck no! I challenge you to a bar fight!"
This is when I light up a cigarette and blow harmful second-hand smoke in his face, giving him lung cancer ON THE SPOT. As he falls to the ground all skinny and pathetic, I kick him while he's down and laugh at a Budweiser commercial on the TV.
While shooting a gun: What kind of asshole shoots a gun without smoking a fucking cigarette? The kind that doesn’t shoot for the kill that’s who. Real gun slingers smoke unfiltered cigs while wielding his mighty cannon.
To me, the two best “cigarette-guns” are the classic six-shooter and the Tommy-gun, with the Gatling gun coming in at a close third. Smoking a cigarette while shooting a gun also takes care of the worries of trying to be cool post-murder, because guess what? You already have a cigarette in your mouth! That’s what I call a preemptive strike on looking like a wuss.
FURTHER TIPS/GUIDLINES:
To reach your peak smoking performance, that is, to take the high road to cancer, smoke Lucky Strikes or Winchesters. There are no circumstances under which you should smoke menthol cigarettes, unless you are a sixteen year-old high school girl going through the “whore” phase, or smoke Newports for hip-hop stature. True smokers love the genuine, untainted taste of tobacco smoke. Menthol is for runny noses, and runny noses only happen after you've been crying. Conclusion: Menthol cigarettes are for crybabies.
If possible, invest in a Zippo lighter, but not the ones with jewels and shit on there, those might as well come packaged with a pair of pantyhose. You are smoking a fucking cigarette, not performing cabaret. Also, don’t be a douche and try to perform pointless tricks like you’re part of the Zippo Lighter Circus. Just open the damn thing and light it you fucking queen.
Getting smoke in your eye is a rookie mistake. That is why most professional smokers such as myself use the fail proof smoker's scowl. The smoker’s scowl prevents smoke from entering the eyes because if done right, the scowl is so badass that even the cigarette smoke pisses its pants and runs away. Getting smoke in your eye is the smoker's equivalent to shooting an air ball on a free-throw in the NBA. Not only does it hurt like a bitch, but you'll look like one too, as you slap your palm against your eye and grind your teeth...making sounds that are unheard of outside the recesses Japanese amateur porn.
If possible, after you are done smoking, flick the cigarette butt into something flammable...cause a fiery explosion, then light another smoke in the bonfire built by rebellion.
THIS HAS BEEN MY CONFESSION
I know, I know, I’m an awful person. I love smoking, and I hope that everyone out there who is anti-smoking gets lung cancer and dies. And I hope that the cause of the lung cancer is me. If they don’t die from the cancer, they will surely perish in the flames of irony.
So ride with me down the Highway to Hell, light me up a smoke, and let’s live life 100%...one cigarette at a time.
