1965

Yeah, the good ol’ days when you could just enjoy your goddam cigarette without some antismoking  nazi on your ass about it. Living in the moment, in the music, not worrying about filing a freakin’ Environmental Impact Statement.

Yeah, I’m feeling a little nostalgic right now.  1965,  I was five years old and spent a lot of time with my grandparents.   Grandpa used to sit in his easy chair, drink brandy and smoke his Camels, when he wasn’t smoking his pipe.  He said so many, many funny things, my brother and I used to laugh until we were sick.

He died at 66 of smoking-related diseases (of course) but while he lived, he lived.  He sure as fuck didn’t spend any time worrying about radon in the basement, second-hand smoke, global climate disruption, seat belt laws, his weight, his abs, political correctness, fat grams or how many calories were in his Hamms.

We’re all going to die.  Smoking will, statistically, make one likely to die a few years earlier.  To gain those years, what price have we paid in letting the Feminized State intrude on out private lives?

NeoVictorian

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