Must quit smoking. Smoking is bad, lungs are good. Lungs give my body oxygen, cigarettes give my body bad things like nicotine and tar and pleasure. Pleasure is bad. God did not create this magnificent world for our enjoyment. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been so fucking many of us here at the same time.
Some God, eh? I mean, there’s a gargantuan fucking universe out there and He saw it in His eternal wisdom to pack every living thing He could think of into one tiny piss stain of a sphere in some backwater part of the milky way. How’s that for civic planning? Sounds worse than Karachi. In fact, it sounds like the plot to a Michael Bay movie. Just throw everything and the kitchen sink into the fucking grinder and hope for the best.
Now, Michael Bay. There’s a man who would never light a cigarette. He hasn’t run out of the all the other inflammable shit out there. Seriously, do his scripts have anything besides the heading, “shit must blow up?” It must be a fucking nightmare working on his sets, what with the fear of stepping into the giant plot holes or being blown a new asshole by walking too close to…well, anything really.
He’s like that retard who’s just discovered the joys of loud noises and bright lights with his first firecracker, but who doesn’t have the cognitive capacity to realize how fucking irritating it can be for people with more than one functioning brain cell.
Is there a point to him, at all? Other than to remind aspiring directors everywhere to quit while they have a day job, because studios only lavish money on primates whose ancestors thought evolution was something that only happened to other apes?
Can’t people in Americaland just agree to let him have a portion of their taxes every summer in exchange for his solemn vow that he will stop producing feces on film? Or at least get together and kill him? It wouldn’t even be a crime, it’d be mercy killing. I think he’s begging for it with the garbage he puts out. Remember, artistic suicide is a cry for help.
Back to smoking though, or not smoking rather, some of the healthiest people I know are dead before their time and most of the tobacco addicts are still smiling their yellow teeth and coughing a dozen times with every breath. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Still, what does that tell you, eh? Nothing!
That’s exactly my point. Nothing! It’s all lies, damned lies and statistics. Cigarettes have murdered less people than OJ Simpson and nobody objects to him. Nobody tells you that insane black athletes are bad for your health. Nobody has the right to either, it’s your choice what you put into someone else’s body. Did OJ ask his wife if she wanted stainless steel in her guts? No. Did he get away with it? Yes. Is he still alive? Yes. So, should anyone quit smoking because it could kill them or the people they’re close to? Of course not. Who’s to say OJ won’t be coming around next week to do it anyway? Death comes to us all but it need not catch us unawares.
Are we not men? Can we not choose how we live and how we die? A man chooses his own fate, however cruel or distasteful it may seem. That’s what sets him apart from brutes, in fact the more distasteful his choice the more he extricates himself from sensual beasts. A man who chooses to kill himself is exercising the power of his rationality to its’ fullest degree, overcoming with sheer will every biological and physical impulse of survival. Self-destruction is that potentiality of mankind that has even the angels looking on in envy.
Besides, if I quit smoking, what the fuck would I do on my cigarette breaks?