Am I A Quitter?

No. 29 of 31 - Thermometer series

The whole pathway you and I have taken this month, striving for and hitting so many of our goals, with the greater goal still in sight, has been marked by many up and downs. Which, if I may draw a lesson that no one else has ever thought of, is also the story of life.

But we're not focused on that today. Today we’re answering the question “Am I a Quitter?” And the answer is no. We’re not worrying about the downside, we’re merely stating it, because Victory is in sight! And even if it weren’t, our resolve remains as resolute as any resolution I’ve ever made. And the idea of quitting now -- while probably not as foolish as it sounds -- is not in my armor-clad bullet-resistant bacon-scented nature.

Remember how I’ve gone on about some of the kids in the neighborhood taunting me? They’re like a sad Greek chorus, one note gloomy gusses. Let me prophesy something about them, and this isn’t my word, it’s straight from my gut: “These kids will get theirs! And it won’t be parades and cotton candy, more like fire and brimstone, the worst of the worst, divine switches on bare hide, and the embarrassment that goes with it.” So many of you have written in that you like it when I take these kids to task. So that’s exactly what I like to give you! Curses on their heads, curses on their tails, may their parents die childless! Petless! Twitching and babbling, not even a bottle of hootch to find wet comfort in! Foaming at the mouth...

You like that? You do? I knew it! Let me reach down in my deepest bowels of disparagement and see what else I can say, give a fresh spin to old taunts, perhaps. Well, you know I’m in the Big City now, and somehow these neighbor kids know all the main blogs online. And they were in the street yesterday with their jump ropes, basketballs, and street chalk. They were taunting me, and I looked down and saw a chalk image that was supposed to look like me, and an arrow pointing at my house. Made me look like a Cyclops with one big ugly tooth and fire flaming out of my nose. Which made me sick!

It’s hard for me to believe these kids — ranging from 4 to 16 — that have this knowledge of the world’s blogs, wouldn't use it to some good, like day-trading or real estate, aspirations for their future. They’re obviously not dummies. But they use their talents only for nastiness. This is no exaggeration. They’re the same kids who just happened to find the bloated body of another blogger in the river. It said in the paper that “someone” was taunting him prior to him wading into the river, yelling, “Your blog sucks!” And, true, it really wasn’t too good. His best post was on locating your mate’s love-handles. You don’t need a blog to do that.

I wish he were still alive. For his own sake, of course. But also to take the heat off me, since these kids just naturally need someone to taunt. Maybe if we’d talked more, I could’ve taken the heat off him and he off me. He wasn’t a bad guy, but is love-handles something we have trouble finding? It’s one of the first things I see.

So am I a quitter? Has the sun quit? Is the sky still there? The moon and the rainbows, do they quit? The moon, no. Rainbows, yes, rainbows quit fast, bad example. The sun and stars, they’re still in the sky. I watch YouTube videos about the stars and experts have come to the conclusion that for the most part stars are there. Once in a while one gets destroyed.  

The Two Ways Of Flicking An Ash

Smoking isn't cool. It's not cool to me. And I say that as a former smoker. It was a different world back then. But the same stupidity.

I was looking at a lady smoking the other day -- and I have maybe four or five photos of her, but I'm not posting them, as it turns out, as a matter of avoiding lawsuits from the people I dress down. If she reads this, maybe she'll know I'm talking about her, but how to prove it, that's her problem!

Anyway, I looked at her and was thinking, how can anyone with any intelligence (and she didn't look like your typical dullard) be sitting there smoking a cigarette? In this day and age! How gross, how despicable. Doesn't she know that her doctor's having a fit? Doesn't she know her life insurance rates and maybe health insurance rates might be so much less? Doesn't she realize that lung cancer is a real pain in the ass?

I myself, as I said, quit. I quit cold turkey. It was a long time ago, 1978, and the first few days were terrible. I bought a pack, then threw them away, etc., the usual story. So I know how hard it can be. But once you exercise a little discipline, a little willpower, and this is key, once you make it X number of days, you've got it made. The only puff of anything I've had since was off a cigar in the '80s to celebrate a friend's proud papa moment, and that's it. The thought of smoking now totally sickens me.

But I remember how it went, of course, as dramatized in the pictures. There's two basic ways of flicking your ash, of course with variations.

1) Flicking with your thumb. There's some real violence to the ash with this one, because it doesn't see it coming. Your thumb is back behind your curled fingers. So the ash is sitting there thinking it's safe. "I can grow out to there and no one will be the wiser!" Then, as a total surprise, it's dislodged from its perch and is the sudden, unexpected victim of gravity. It's severed so quickly, never to be reattached, and never to recover. What a shock!

2) The finger tap. This one is gentler and noticed more often by the ash. The finger's right out in the open. It's not sneaking up on anyone. And it never has the same violence as the thumb flick. The same force is not exercised. Maybe it's because of the downward motion, you're not bucking gravity. Maybe it's because of the leverage, you're closer to the ash. But I think it was more to do with not wanting to break the cigarette in half. Just a tap gets the job done. The result is of course the same, the ash falls, but without the same trauma.

If you smoke, quit. If you don't smoke, don't start. If you start and don't quit, don't smoke around me!