Chapter 45: In which 99% of the blogger's readers decide that they've had enough

Sometimes, I smoke. And not just when I’m on fire. I mean, sometimes, I like to smoke cigarettes. I like it. To tell you the truth, it gives me an insane amount of pleasure.

And all I hear about is what a pain in the ass that is for everyone else.

Well, I’m also a vegetarian, right? I don’t eat animal flesh. (And yes, that even includes the flesh of fishie-type animals.) But you don’t hear me ragging on all my meat-eating friends, you know?

Vegetarians live an average of four to eight years longer than flesh-eaters, but you don’t hear me saying “How can you EAT that hamburger? You know every one of those takes 10 minutes off your life.”

or

“When they cook meat in the house, that awful smell gets in my clothes and my hair.”

or

“Eating the flesh off an animal’s bones – it’s such a filthy habit.”

Seriously, I was at lunch a couple of weeks ago with some friends, and one of them is chewing on a rib, a cow’s rib bone, and she’s sucking the flesh off this rib bone, and gnawing on it to make sure she’s getting it all and ugh, I’m the one with the nasty habit??

And don’t come at me with that lame-ass “second hand smoke” bullshit. I’ll agree that people shouldn’t be forced to work in a closed smoky environment. But how come the meat-eaters never want to talk about how dangerous their little habit is to me? I mean, do you know what effect the cultivation of animals for meat has on the environment?

To say nothing of the nasty nasty business of meat processing and what it does to the people who work in it.

Look I’ll make you a deal. You show me a tobacco processing plant where minimum wage workers are being mangled to death by big cigarette-making machines, and I swear I’ll quit that minute. But until then why don’t y’all think about giving up the meat, man, and smoking a cigarette. You’ll live longer.