After years of resisting, a friend in
For the Chinese, smoking carries connotations that might seem outdated, even quaint to Westerners. Real men smoke, period. And when real men hang out together, they smoke a lot. The presence of women is appreciated, of course--if they are quick with a lighter. At a formal meal or banquet, each course may be followed by a cigarette, as if to cleanse the palate, and a few more cigarettes will be smoked at the end, in place of port. As the saying goes, fan hou yi zhi yan, sai guo huo shenxian--a cigarette after a meal and you feel better than a living god.
It was hard for me to take this article seriously in this Politically Correct day and age, and I kept looking for a “gotcha!” or an “April Fool!” Or something. But no, it is as it reads above: a paean to the Evil Weed. Doubtless some pinched-face do-gooder will come out with a “tsk-tsk” editorial response to this charming and informative little piece…it’s just a matter of time.
But back to the subject at hand. Ya know what? I miss it. I really do. But I won’t…can’t…go back. It really was killing me, and that’s not hyperbole.
I wonder if Barack has quit yet?
Today’s Musical Interlude… Two gems from the BEST incarnation of Fleetwood Mac: the Peter Green years…
And one from the second-best iteration of Mac…the Bob Welch years. Nice photos here.
You’ll note I didn’t include a cut featuring the abominable Stevie Nicks. If I ever hear that frickin’ “Rhiannon” song again it’ll be too soon. Thus spake The Ol’ Fart.