Travel to Glenwood Springs
The city of Glenwood Springs is located high in the Rocky Mountains between Vail and Aspen. It's roughly in the shape of the letter Y and only a few streets wide. In winter, these streets are covered with fine gravel to provide traction on the snow. The Roaring Fork River meets the Colorado River 5800 feet high to provide the best fishing in the state. Geothermal springs heat vents of water to temperatures well above 100 degrees. This combination has drawn people from all over the world to enjoy its quality of life, much as it did the Utes centuries ago.
The Renegade Smoker struck at Glenwood Springs last week. Armed with a pack of smokes and enough spending money for a good holiday weekend, he arrived at the Hot Springs Lodge on Friday. A smoking suite had been reserved for the weekend and there were no complaints to be answered. Although numerous signs declared, "Smoking in Designated Areas Only", there were plenty of ashtrays in numerous logical areas. The Lodge's private hot tub had an ashtray next to it. The lobby had one and there was one near each door. That the grounds were free of cigarette butts was a credit to the placement of ash receivers.
The Hot Springs Pool has always been friendly to smokers. It is another area free from cigarette or any other kind of waste. Ashtrays and trash receptacles are abundant. There is no sign saying, "Please Don't Smoke in the Pool". The Renegade Smoker was pleased to note that smokers weren't treated as idiots. He knew that smoking in the pool makes the cigarette soggy and hard to light. There were no ashtrays in the shower, either.
Could it be that Glenwood Springs was a "normal" town? A person would feel guilty flipping an ash onto the ground. Common sense eliminated the need to make and enforce unreasonable laws. The result is a good, clean town. That's a pretty hefty statement to make in a town with gravel covered roads, but it's one that bears repeating. Glenwood Springs is a good, clean town.
The Renegade Smoker noted that the town of Aspen was having a spectacular celebration that night. Bands, beerfests, topless ski jumping and fireworks were the order of the day. However, it had been noted in earlier years that smokers were not welcome in Aspen. If you sell enough albums, you can do just about anything in Aspen, but you can't smoke a cigarette in a restaurant. The town of Aspen received no visit, no attention and no dollars from the Renegade Smoker or the other three people in his party. The money stayed in Glenwood Springs.
Two years ago, this trip was made on AMTRAK. It was then that a conductor who wished to remain anonymous spoke to the Renegade. The conductor said that in the future if he wanted to enjoy a smoke, he would have to do so in the toilet. The Renegade told all his friends and neighbors, who told all their friends and neighbors. The net result in lost revenues from smokers is $20 million dollars in FY94. Since AMTRAK is federally subsidized, this means that $20 million in tax money will be wasted because of mandatory legalized discrimination.
This year the trip was made by automobile. The radio stations in Denver were broadcasting a "Red Alert" day because of the air pollution and wood burning heat was not allowed. Private travel was discouraged. Smoking is prohibited in Denver's airport (whichever one is in service). The Renegade Smoker, without the benefit of scientific laboratory equipment noted that the pollution seemed to be from something other than cigarettes. It was diesel fumes and industrial haze which lay in the large depression of the Great Plains called the city of Denver. They built the stupid town in a bowl, stuffed it with refineries, made it the Gateway to the West and, when the wind doesn't clear out the garbage, they ban smoking in the airport. The clarity of judgement of the City's Founding Fathers is rivaled only by that of the present Denver City Council. Denver turned out to be another place devoid of the Renegade Smoker's dollar.
Here it is in a nutshell. No Sale in Denver or Aspen. Denver has gone out of its way to shun smokers and their money. Aspen is too lofty a place to allow smokers their pleasure. Kudos to the City of Glenwood Springs. They welcome everybody with a bright town free of litter and debris. The people are friendly and helpful when you get lost. They got the money.
Look out for the Renegade Smoker. You'll never know when he's there, but you'll know where he was. Keep a sharp eye peeled for him and offer him a light. Remember, Smokers Mean Business.
AMTRAK
No, I didn't see Forest Gump last weekend. Nor did I eat the popcorn, have a Coke or go to McDonald's after the show. I didn't do any of those things because I'm a smoker and smoking is not allowed in "The Choice City" of Ft. Collins, Colorado. It appears that "The Choice City" offers the choice of enjoying a smoke or enjoying an evening on the town. I enjoyed my smoke and will enjoy sending the money to the bank to pay off the principal on my new house. Sorry, Forest.
Just when it seems as if I'm at a stand-still in the smokers' rights movement, I see new light. I started off just wanting a smoke. Now I'm at the point where I see other things. Things like AMTRAK.
AMTRAK is our railroad. Our railroad? Yes, that's right. When you pay for something, it's yours. I just found out that AMTRAK lost $20 million in FY94 because of smokers not using the railroad. Well, I wasn't too surprised at that figure, but my soul simmered when I found out that I had to make up the deficit. You see, AMTRAK is a subsidized by our government. When AMTRAK loses money, the Great American Taxpayer kicks in and sees to it that the railroad keeps paying its president, Tom Downs.
Everybody has a boss, but who is Tom Downs' boss? I wanted to know, so, I called AMTRAK's headquarters at (202) 906-3000. I was put on hold for a few minutes, then connected to Mr. Downs' office.
I spoke with Pat Blackwell, his personal secretary. She was quite pleasant and I really wasn't expecting such courtesy from AMTRAK. She told me that there was heated response about smoking and the issue was still up in the air. I reminded her that the conductors, anxious to get passengers on board, are telling people to smoke in the rest rooms. (Ever see an AMTRAK rest room? In case you haven't, just use your imagination.)
Ms. Blackwell also told me that Mr. Downs is the Chairman of the Board as well as president of AMTRAK. I asked who signed his paycheck, an easy way to tell who runs the company. I got no reply to this question. Could it be that Mr. Downs is in sole control of this monopoly for which taxpayers are footing the bill? Foul ball!
I'm going to let this one stew in my head for a while and get back to last weekend. When I take this money to the bank to pay off my house, the bank is going to be hurting. You see, the bank is depending on me to supply them with money for the next 30 years. If I pay them off sooner, they don't make as much money. When the bank doesn't make a profit, one of several things happen. The first thing is no free toaster. Certificates of Deposit and interest on savings drop. Bank charges and interest soar. When the bank goes belly up, the taxpayers again rise to the fore to bail it out. It just seems that you can't win. But, you can.
One of the nicest things about democracy is the fact that the people are the government. We control the country by the elected officials we send into office. If we want to see our tax money spent responsibly, then perhaps we ought to tell our elected officials that Tom Downs is costing us money and we want him out. If they don't understand the problem, then it's time for a new crew in the legislature.
Want to be a Renegade Smoker? Look out for my next adventure. In the meantime, let me know what you're doing.
Derf
Skipper's
I saw an anti smoker today in town. He was taking the Pepsi Challenge. He selected Jiff.
On the serious side, I did go to Skipper's, a local seafood place. It has a smoking area. I spoke with the manager of the restaurant, a lady named Corrado, and we talked about smokers' rights. Corrado told me that there is something wrong when city officials come into her restaurant and complain about the smoke when there are no smokers present. Does it sound as if this official is on a personal vendetta, or is it just me? I gave her an autographed copy of The Week Before Christmas and she replaced the Xerox copy of it on her bulletin board. I also left her with a couple of months' supply of SMOKERS REVENGE cards.
Smoking and Personal Economics
Here in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, I have a wonderful perspective from which to view life. I don't change it as much as I would like to, but I have a unique view. I read thousands of pieces of mail relating to smokers' rights.
No, I don't make the big decisions or anything, but I do get to send an acknowledgment of letters received. In that acknowledgment, I get to put in a sentence or alter a word or two to indicate my feelings, but I generally try to keep within ASA guidelines. But, the subject of this writing is the incoming mail, not the outgoing mail.
I thought there was something wrong with me. Here I am, a homeowner with the Roosevelt National Forest as a neighbor, and I shun town and all it has to offer. I didn't see Forest Gump. I didn't hear MadRap Minus One at their concert. I didn't eat out last week, not even in a restaurant which allows smoking. My gasoline credit card is a quarter of what it was last year. I don't clip coupons, don't want that home theater system, and won't give to the United Way. I was starting to think that I was being a social recluse. Perhaps the ravages of time were working on me.
But, I do read a lot of letters. They come in three types. I've got my "regulars", such as Mike and Janet, who supply me with news on a regular basis. Lizzy in Vineland always sends me a buck or two, a challenge to a bookkeeping system set up for checks. Some of the "regulars" send E-mail which frustrates the Postal system because it gets delivered instantly for free.
Then, I've got the "infrequent flyers" who write only once in a while. These are the ones who, incidentally, seem to send us the best, fanciest and most sincere Holiday Greeting cards. Tom, you and your cardinals can stand up and take a bow on this one. One of them owns his own railroad car while another has pet alligators.
The last of the triumvirate of mail received is the "One Shot Sunday" crowd. One letter and they strangely forget how to do it again. Fortunately, I don't get many of those. I know most of the people who write by name and city, and they have indicated that my way of life isn't all that different from theirs.
I said before that I didn't see Forest Gump. Now that I come to think of it, I haven't seen a movie for years. I can recall many letters from other smokers who say they don't go to the movies because they are not accommodated. Okay, so I'm in the ball park with the movies.
I didn't go to the MadRap Minus One concert with the shaved head group. I don't wear an earring (nor do I wear pantyhose, because I'm a guy!), don't enjoy "cadence screaming" and refuse to pay for it. I don't have a pierced nose, don't wear my underwear outside my clothes and suspect that Elvis might truly be dead. Letters received indicate I'm in the norm on this one, too.
Yes, that's right. I didn't eat anything at a restaurant last week. I thought I had the flu or something. I had a case of "The Blah's" and just didn't care to spend the extra time in town. The truth was the atmosphere of shopping had changed from one of being carefree and spending money at the drop of a credit card to one of trying to "Get the hell out of Dodge!" I wasn't a happy shopper and I just didn't want to be there. I got what I needed and left as quickly as I could.
Let me add at this point that I have three cars at my disposal. I drive a VW Rabbit convertible on sunny days, a BMW on cold days and nights, and a '62 Mini on special occasions. I also have a mid-sized motorcycle. I just don't drive anywhere anymore, and I found out that I'm not alone. Who wants to drive a hundred miles to be told, "No Smoking!" Letters received at this office indicate not a heck of a lot of people opt for this kind of treatment.
I don't clip coupons because I don't like to go to town to spend money. I can order it by phone and have it the next day. For God's sake, I'm not buying rattlesnake anti-venin or anything that can't wait a day or two. I don't enjoy watching murder and rape as entertainment, and I can live without "48 Hours". I've learned a lot about "charities" and now know who gets paid first. But, again, I'm not alone.
Thousands of letters confirm that more and more smokers are getting out of the mainstream of life wherever and whenever they are offered this option. I took all the money I didn't spend and used it as a down payment on my house. Other people are using equally creative ways of spending their money. How do I know this to be true? I read the letters, that's how.
An individual letter tells you but one small facet of life, but thousands of letters indicate major changes in America. As these changes take place, I'm sitting back in my chair, high in the Rocky Mountains, taking it all in. Best of all, I now know that there is nothing wrong with me. It appears that there's a little Renegade Smoker in all of us.
Smoke-Easy
Where There's a Will, There's a Way
I had to take her out to dinner. After all, it was her birthday and a trip to town with a fancy dinner would make our date one of the best we've had in years. So, we put on our fancy duds and headed for Fort Collins Colorado.
Now, there are a couple of things which make Ft. Collins unique. It has more automobiles and restaurants per-capita than any other city in the United States. And it has some of the strictest smoking laws in the country. I could handle the traffic. Could the restaurants and their no-smoking rules handle me?
I went from one restaurant to another. I was looking for a place which served food and didn't care if we smoked or not. Annie was in her dress and I too "had the bag on". We looked like a cosmopolitan couple out for the evening. Our pangs of hunger were betrayed by growling stomachs.
After about an hour of this, our choices were limited to truck stops off the Interstate highway and a gay bar in the middle of the Pawnee National Grasslands. It was getting late at night. Things didn't look good for a birthday dinner that night. We decided to head back into the mountains.
As we headed back home, we had to leave the Great Plains and pass through Ft. Collins once again. Annie noted a warehouse with a FOR RENT sign in faded paint on the front door. A single light was on the side with the loading dock. But, there were several score of cars parked out back. We were puzzled.
True Mountain Men don't leave questions unanswered. They have a way of piling up on you and, when you have enough questions, you then get a job as a university professor or something similar. I had to find out. I parked the car on the side and both of us went to the back of the building. A narrow stair led to a door.
The door had a four inch square window at eye level. I knocked several times and the window opened enough for me to see a waiter. I was flabbergasted! I was also speechless, a novel concept for me. I finally blurted out, "Joe sent me!". I remembered that from an old Charlie Chan movie.
The little window closed. I thought that the person on the other side of the door took me to be a complete idiot and went back to whatever he was doing, but I was wrong. The sound of metal sliding on metal was followed by the opening of the door. We stepped inside and the door closed.
We were in a small, dimly-lit hallway. Another door was in front of us. The man who let us in opened the other door and we stepped into another world. Lights, action and hot food were attending the hundred or so revelers. People were dancing, smiling, sampling food and smoking. Smoking? Yes, that's right. There were actually people enjoying a smoke in a nightclub atmosphere.
There were ash receivers strategically placed on the floor and one at each table. A lady wearing the tightest fitting garb I had ever seen was selling cigarettes and cigars from her tray. I could plainly read the mint mark on the 1993 dime she had in her pocket. Her breasts billowed almost out of the top of her costume to increase her tips. You can take that to mean anything you want. Ed. She wore the tallest high heels ever produced by Thom McAnn over a pair of sequinned stockings. Even though I had smokes, I purchased a pack of Balkan Sobraine's to go with the night.
We ordered prime rib and danced while the meal was prepared. It arrived, followed by a tall fellow who carried what appeared to be a small log. "Fresh ground pepper?" he asked. I looked askew at the pepper next to the salt on the table, wondering if it had come from King Tut's tomb or something.
Needless to say the dinner was superb. With jacks and cranes we were pried from our seats and pointed in the direction of the dance floor. A live orchestra stood behind velvet-covered podia. We wallowed for a few minutes, unsuccessfully trying to match the tempo, then returned to our table. I offered Annie a cigarette and we took a break. It was at that point that I realized what was happening.
I was in a SmokeEasy. All of a sudden it made sense. I had been checked out at the door. I was joking when I said, "Joe sent me", but, apparently, that was the password. I had stumbled into the lair of the smoker, that underground haunt of the tobacco connoisseur. By merely trying to have a good time, I had inadvertently joined a hundred other patrons in an illegal activity which could have landed the lot of us in jail. I smoked. I broke the law.
Now, I'm really not Al Capone. I'm just a consumer of goods who happens to enjoy smoking. But, because of a stupid law, I had inadvertently done something I normally wouldn't do. In fact, I wasn't genuinely aware of what was happening until I had been there for a couple of hours. It wasn't until I noticed that there was no tax on my bill that I figured it out.
If you're ever in this neck of the woods, get in touch with me. I've got a great place to go where the food is decent and smokers are not discriminated against. Oh, it's illegal as hell, but it happens behind locked doors and involves consenting adults. It's not sex, it's smoking. Another Renegade Smoker has made a name for himself.
Retro-Vision
The television gave up the ghost last night. There were only two things wrong with it - no picture, no sound. Now that I own a house with a satellite system, it didn't make sense to not have a television. I had to replace it.
I've always been one to obey rules. When the manager of the Ft. Collins (Colorado) Fashion Mall told me, "Smokers can take their money elsewhere," I followed orders. I don't shop there, pay any sales tax there, or support any businesses there. It's the decision of the manager and I'm just following orders. So, I picked up a paper and went to the classified section.
It barked at me! One ad jumped off the page and it was sold before I could even read it. The ad was for an "OLD FUTURISTIC TELEVISION FOR SALE, $10", and I wanted it. I arrived within ten minutes and bought it.
It was one of those Sylvania televisions which featured a swiveling picture tube. Color? Why, black and white, of course. With its unusual layout, the Sylvanian trademark of Halovision was not there, but, if it worked, it was worth the ten spot. I plugged it in and turned it on.
It took a minute for the picture to come up, but it was sharp and clear. As luck would have it, the first thing which came on the screen was a commercial. A cigarette commercial with dancing packs of cigarettes. I thought I had The History Channel on, but it was a local station. The commercial ended and I settled back to watch Groucho. He was smoking a cigar! I changed stations and saw Dick Van Dyke smoking a cigarette - and Mary Tyler Moore selling them on the show! Hey, wait a minute! Something was wrong.
I carefully examined this "television of the future", looking at every side and every nameplate. It was then I noticed a small plate attached with rivets which stated, "POLARITY REVERSED" in bright red letters. Underneath the red words was a single word printed in green. It said, "RETROVISION".
I stood in front of the unit and, with chin in hand, pondered what I had purchased. I apparently bought a television which only saw those broadcasts made in the late fifties and early sixties. The first thing I noted was that everybody (everybody except Johnny Crawford) was smoking. The big secret on "I've Got A Secret" was, apparently, the location of the ash trays. Sergeant Bilko smoked, as did the whole Army. At the end of "Topper", it was announced that several cartons of CAMEL cigarettes were being sent to VA hospitals across the country.
Holy Mackerel! I had accidentally stumbled across a time machine of sorts. I had something here, something which I didn't quite understand, but something which was interesting. I turned on the news and saw Walter Cronkite with black hair. There was nothing about drive-by shootings, the budget was balanced and people were smoking. I watched that television until the station went off the air at 11:00 that night. When I turned off the set, that little glow remained in the center of the screen for a few seconds and then disappeared.
That was the good news. I turned it on today and selected the news. Fourteen people were shot in Detroit in a drive-by shooting. Bosnia was at war. Russia (or whatever it's called these days) was at war. The cigarettes were gone. What happened while I slept? I looked over the television again and noticed that the little plaque was gone. The rivet holes were not there. The days of RETROVISION were gone forever.
How to Get There in 1995
Let's talk about travel. We're supposed to be using public transportation for a variety of reasons, such as conserving the planet's resources and saving money. We can also save time with public transportation. There are many more reasons, but I think you get the idea.
I tried to use public transportation three times in the last six months, but each time was a failure. The first attempt came when I tried to get from my home in Colorado to see my mother on Christmas. She lives in Connecticut, which is about 2,000 miles and three days of driving away. If I took a plane, it would be only 1,500 miles and four hours distant. I checked it out.
Since 1988, it has been forbidden to smoke on domestic airlines. If I flew, I would be paying to be discriminated against. There was a time when one could smoke in the back of the plane, but that's history. Airlines complained that it took fuel to ventilate the plane. They also didn't want to clean the bleeder valve in the tail cone of the aircraft because it's tough to get at. Well Mr. Airline, you have what you wanted. Now planes are not ventilated sufficiently to passengers' wishes and needs. In fact, the airplanes of today smell like flying outhouses. The bleeder valve could have been located in a more convenient place, or the maintenance people should just do their job. Heck, if the think that's a tough thing to do on a plane and react in that manner, what are they doing when it comes time to change brakes on the plane? Will they just say that passengers should leap from the doors as they pass their destinations? And, please tell me why they keep making airplanes with ashtrays? Could it be that the airplane manufacturers want passengers to be happy and the airlines want to be cheap? I hat to bring this up, but Rosa Parks could at least sit in the back of the bus. Smokers can't even board it.
My next try came when a group of people asked me to come along with them to the gambling town of Black Hawk. They had a bus all lined up, the gambling halls came out with chits for free meals and even bankrolled us to the tune of a roll of quarters for the slot machines. But, even though the bus had ashtrays, there was no smoking. I politely declined and gave my reasons. The net result was nobody made the trip, the gaming tables were bereft of fifty people with money to spend and the bus' ashtrays didn't need cleaning. Black Hawk? Well, I guess they sort of took it in the shorts on this one. No Sale means No Money.
Lastly, I tried to take a group of people to refresh themselves in the waters of the Hot Springs Pool at Glenwood Springs, Colorado. We were going to take the train, however we were informed that we could only smoke in the bathroom. Now that makes a lot of sense. I'm supposed to pay $150 to ride for twelve hours in AMTRAK's bathroom? No way! I drove and six people made the trip. AMTRAK, I might add, lost $20 million in revenues from smokers finding another way, but it's not worried. It is subsidized by the government, which means they'll get their $20 million from us taxpayers, whether we ride the rails or not.
Well, it looks as if the Renegade Smoker is going to have to do something about this, but it will have to be worded correctly. There is a crime in America called conspiracy and I don't want to violate it. But I feel that pretty soon smokers by the thousands are going to light up regardless. This will mean that the police can start arresting us and marching us, in handcuffs, past the pimps, drug dealers and murderers, into court. In court we have several options. We can say we're not smoking tobacco; we're smoking marijuana. The fine is 1/3 that for smoking a cigarette where I live, so that alternative looks okay to me. We can take the "O.J. Defense", and hire enough lawyers to overwhelm and bankrupt the court system. We can call the law offices of Colin Ferguson and request him to represent us.
I'd almost say this is the silliest thing I've ever written, but, unfortunately, it's true. It's the way to travel in 1995. Apparently, you can't get there from here.
So, why do they call it "public transportation"? It should be called what it is. Non-Smoker transportation. Now how about a transportation system for us smokers? Write to the Man-In-Charge at the Hall o' Pena in Washington and demand one.
FLORIDA
You know, I haven't sued anybody this whole year. I haven't had any need to, until now. At this point of the time-space continuum, it is necessary to do so.
Here at the Renegade Smoker Institute, a non-profit organization, we have identified the largest cause of cancer and we're going to do something about it. We intend to sue those who promote its use for profit.
There is no question that the largest producer of cancer is our sun. Yes, you heard me right. It's the good ol' sun which causes skin cancer, the most prevalent form of this disease. And who promotes it more than Lawton Chiles, governor of the Sunshine State of Florida?
Florida takes in over $600 million in taxes from tobacco. It appears that they are whining because they spend $160 million on tobacco related illnesses in their Medicare program. The solution would be to ban smoking, piss off a whole bunch of people, and raise taxes to cover the lost revenues form smoking. Or, they can sue the tobacco companies.
When I die, it will be of boredom from reading all those warnings. I've read 'em, memorized 'em and will probably have some sort of Surgeon General's warning on the tombstone, assuming we have a Surgeon General who's not doing abortions or masturbating or imitating a Billy goat. My estate will then sue the Sunshine State for damages caused by their namesake.
Seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? Let's backtrack and see if we can make some sense out of this. Florida takes in three times what it spends on smoking. It's a money-maker for Florida, to the tune of some $600 million a year. I was under the impression that Florida needed money in its treasury. Perhaps the money isn't going where it's supposed to be going. The numbers don't lie. I'm going to put this on my list of things to do. I'm going to find out why Florida thinks it's losing money on smokers. My best guess is "creative bookkeeping".
FDA Bull
Can somebody explain something to me? How was it discovered that environmental tobacco smoke (ETS) causes sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) in children?
Perhaps it was doctors who made this discovery. You know, doctors. The same group of dedicated scientists who have yet to discover the cure for the common cold. I want to know why my son didn't get SIDS as both of his parents smoked.
It has also come to my attention, via Smithsonian magazine, that left-handed people have a live span nine years shorter than right-handed people. Are we going to see anti-lefty legislation?
Government is waging war on smokers. This is a popular thing to do. If you are in the business of government and you have a choice between balancing the budget or banning smoking, what are you going to do? If you have a choice between raising the standard of living for Americans or banning smoking, what are you going to do? If you have a choice between actually working or banning smoking, what are you going to so? Our government can't balance the budget, nor can it raise the standard of living. But, it seems that not a day goes by when they don't ban smoking - and get it on the front page of the paper!
Now I have to deal with the "Contract With America", whatever that is. I always thought that a contract was an agreement between two participants with a piece of paper signed by both of them. I haven't been contacted and I haven't signed anything. Yet the legislators continue with this and the problems of the country continue to mount. They swore to "insure domestic tranquility" and yet I cannot find public transportation to accommodate me. I wonder if they think I'll get SIDS on the train? Apparently they don't care if I get tuberculosis on the airplane.
So, what is this anti-smoking campaign doing for America? It's cut the number of airline travelers by 20%. It's forced the taxpayers to ante up another twenty million dollars to make up AMTRAK's loss of smokers' revenues. It's cost my state hundreds of dollars in taxes I didn't pay because I shop by mail order. It's cost my local workforce jobs, as not as many people are needed to serve the smokers who don't come to town.It's saved me hundreds of dollars in restaurant expenses, as I pack a lunch when I go to town.
The latest news is from the FDA says that smoking should be classified as a "child hazard". I haven't heard of too many children dying from smoking and would suspect that the death tally is higher for falling into the toilet. Could it be that this government organization can't do anything effective and has to resort to jumping on the "ban wagon"? Did they give up on trying to cure the common cold.
Comment on Taxes and Fairness
Is it time yet? Have we been outraged enough? Are we going to sit back and take it again?
Well, not this smoker. I've had it up to here and I'm going to do something about it. But I'm no ordinary smoker. I'm a smoker with time on my hands - and a word processor. I refuse to pay to be discriminated against. I'm going to spend 1996 complying with smoking laws and I'm going to let you know how I do it. I guess you could call me the Renegade Smoker.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Fred Collier, but my friends call me Derf. I own my own company, but refuse to advertise. I live on the Cache la Poudre River in Colorado and enjoy a spectacular view from my computer site. I'm also prone to taking the 15 lb. laptop (I call it the football) outside and transferring the data to the main one, allowing a workplace measured in square miles instead of square feet. This is 1996 and I intend to take advantage of it.
My nearest major shopping area is Ft. Collins Colorado. Smoking is not permitted because of a city ordinance. I couldn't vote in it, but I had to abide by it. I needed to do some Christmas shopping, but refused to pay to be discriminated against. So, I stayed at home and shopped by phone and by mail. I now have a vast repository of receipts which have no local or state sales tax which would benefit Ft. Collins or Colorado. I've made copies of these and presented them, not only to the Commissioner, but to the affected merchants as well. I'm using a universal media understood by all. The bottom line is always the Almighty Dollar. I'm letting my money do my talking for me.
And, speaking of money, here's something to think about. Are you going to pay taxes for the three weeks in 1995 that the government was shut down? Think about that one for a while. If you don't, you might go to jail for not paying for the time the government wasn't running. If you do, then you can go to Small Claims Court and sue the government for "Theft of Services". Now, I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I'm going to do. As a smoker, I've already paid $400 more in taxes for 1995 than non-smokers. I'm not going to pay for those three weeks. I'm going to deduct 6% from my tax bill, write the reason down, and send it in. After all, what more can my government do to me!
I just found the answer to my question. More. Lots more. If "they" think this letter doesn't pass the "decency test", whatever that is, I'll be in trouble. I hope this letter isn't "indecent", because I'm using electronic transfer and don't want to go to jail. Don't show this to any minors. Or any miners, for that matter.
Taxes
I got a call from the bank yesterday. "Derf," they said, "You had better get down here and think about cashing in your Savings Bonds. The government might default on their loan."
Now, that's a hell of a thing to tell me. The backs of my bonds carry the words, "Backed by the full faith and credit of the United States." So, I'm going to have to do a little thinking about this.
Let's see, the Supreme Court said it was perfectly legal to kidnap - not extradite, kidnap - Mexican citizens and bring them into the United States for trial. Then we got a clown who swore to "uphold, protect and preserve the Constitution of the United States." He didn't. He gave me a list of 23 guns that were now illegal for law-abiding citizens to purchase. He knows our Constitution says, "the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed." I'm getting ready to pay for 52 weeks of government services when the government was shut down for 6% of the year due to lack of funding. I need to sit back and have a smoke!
Whoops, I can't do that, either. Maybe that's why smoking is sort of like the government. You get to pay for it, but you can't use it.
Valentine's Day Thoughts
I moved from New Jersey to Colorado in 1974. I can remember my Mom & Dad waving goodbye to their best-looking, smartest and most humble offspring on that summer day. Dad had warned me that moving near Loveland, Colorado, would mean that I would have to get Valentine's Day cards and mail them from "The Sweetheart City". That way the cards have the Loveland postmark and the special hand-applied cachet which makes the card unique.
For twenty-one years I have done as instructed. I purchased only the finest of cards; ones with lace, multiple sheets strategically glued together, and even one that made music. I would trudge to Loveland with my mail. Sometimes it was a piece of cake to make the run. Sometimes it was in white-out blizzard conditions. It didn't matter what was on the roads; I always made it.
But I won't be making the trip this year, Mr. Hallmark, for several reasons. The mall where your store is located doesn't accommodate smokers. "Please Smoke Outside" is what the sign says. Now, isn't that friendly? I refuse to pay to be discriminated against, so there was no sale to be made there.
The City of Loveland fires employees who smoke in their own homes. Now that's a pretty hefty bit of legislature, isn't it? It means that if they have excluded from their job pool the likes of Eisenhower, Churchill and Wyatt Earp. Adolph Hitler was a rabid anti-smoker. Perhaps, were he still alive, he could find a job as a cop in Loveland. Unfortunately, the best cop in the world, were he a smoker, would be passed over in favor of Mr. Hitler. Knowing of their policy, and their ability to make even more absurd laws, I am staying out of Loveland.
And so, Mr. Hallmark, you know why that one special Valentine is still sitting on the rack. It's because this smoker is unhappy. Happy smokers are called customers.
Your salary, lifestyle
That gift for your honey.
It all comes from taxes.
NO SALE MEANS NO MONEY!
What's Important Now
I'll admit it; I'm selfish. I have a list of reasonable things I would like to see the government do for me and my family. And it's not a Genie in a bottle I'm asking, it's my government. The list, in order of importance to me, is listed below:
1. Illegal drugs. A new world could be financed on what Americans spend on illegal drugs. Solve the drug problem.
2. Alcohol. It doesn't take a genius to see what happens when an intoxicated driver gets behind the wheel. It kills not only the drinkers, but innocent people as well.
3. Teen Pregnancy. I have enough problems funding my family. How do you feel about paying for not only the medical aspects, but having an unwed, uneducated group to fund?
4. Violence. Little Johnny watches Rambo. The next day he brings his knife to school. Kids are shooting kids and we wonder why.
5. AIDS. This isn't the 70's. Now your life is in mortal danger. I would like to see the government do something - anything - to try to control this disease.
6. Suicide. Too many good people kill themselves because they see no way out. They have no hope for the future. Can't our government give us some security so we don't kill ourselves?
7. Physical and sexual abuse of children. Children have a job. Their job is to prepare for adult life. To this extent, they are granted a waiver from working for a living while they are kids. Their work is school and learning good habits. Their protected status is in jeopardy from those who abuse them, whether it be parents, teachers or any other adult.
8. Dropping out of school. The more you learn, the more you earn. Conversely, the less you learn, the more you'll be needing to hustle money any way you can get it. America can go a long way with education, but it will fall by the wayside with a lack of it.
9. Car Accidents. Kids don't have the experience adults have when it comes to driving. They've only been driving a short time and often can't react the way driver's should. I worry about my kid having an accident, or being with somebody who does.
10. Smoking. Nothing looks dumber than a kid with a cigarette dangling from his lip.
I've listed these things in order of importance to me. Oh, I'll be upset if my child drops out of school, but not as much as I would be were I to find out he's an addict. The important thing to note here is that smoking is way down on my list of What's Important Now. Concedo, it is a problem, but it's not as serious as the nine items listed above it.
The Renegade Smoker asks all to review this list and see if you can make up your own. Where does smoking fall on your list? That's part one. Part two is to get our public servants, our elected officials, those who have taken the oath to, "uphold, protect and preserver the Constitution of the United States" to triage their priorities. I'd rather they worked on the important problems that affect my family if they are going to work at all.
Smoking in WWII
I was just watching The History Channel. They had a pretty good story about the battle of the Pacific, narrated by that great pipe smoker, Westbrook Van Voorhis. I watched as the First Marine Battalion landed on the island of Palau and got slaughtered on the beaches. I saw the litters being taken down Bloody Nose Ridge with wounded Marines. Guess what else I saw. They were all smoking cigarettes!
I watched as the Corpsmen brought in the litters. Those fortunate enough to be conscious smoked. The Corpsmen gave them cigarettes. Enemy soldiers gave up their defensive positions when offered cigarettes. Ike smoked. Churchill smoked. Know who didn't? Adolph Hitler didn't smoke. He's probably the most famous anti-smoker. He wouldn't let people smoke in the Chancellory or his Eagle's nest. Now, here's a guy who didn't die of lung cancer.
Then I started to think about this more deeply. Here's an army of Americans who really didn't want to fight. The cream of American youth had different things on their minds. A family, a girl, an automobile. Homes. They were farmers, mechanics, salesmen and students. As diverse as they were, they were in unison in their fight against the Axis powers some fifty years ago. They didn't want to be told what to do. America just wanted to be left alone. But, these Americans put their lives on the line for America. They fought, they were immortalized by their heroism and they died for America and the American Way. Where are these people today?
I spoke with a survivor of Leyte Gulf. This guy was pretty scared when he looked out over the deck of his escort carrier and saw the Japanese Fleet coming at him. With no guns larger than three inches in bore, the Americans were out-gunned and out-numbered. America lost one of the carriers. It also lost the Hoel and Johnston, a couple of destroyer escorts about the size of a good cabin cruiser laden with good men. The survivor told me about how he cried as he saw the Hoel being cut to pieces with 18 inch shells. He told me how planes armed with incendiary bombs for land targets were dropping them on the Japanese battleships. He mentioned that when the planes had dropped their bombs, they made dummy runs on the ships to draw their fire. Admiral Sprague even argued, "Dammit boys, they're getting away!" when the Japanese turned away. That was the good news.
The bad news is that I met this gentleman outside on a cold winter's day. He had no coat, no pants and no shirt. He wore a hospital gown and was enjoying a cigarette as he sat outside of the hospital in the area designated for smokers. He was at the hospital for a check-up. I felt ashamed that he was being victimized. After all, didn't he offer all he had for America? Why are we treating him like this?
I felt bad for the old man. He smiled as if he understood. His days are numbered, and smoking is allowed in Heaven. I'm stuck here in the no-smoking zone. For a while, at least.
Health Care in 1996
Okay, the Congressional Committees have had their licks, the pro's have waded through tons of paperwork, Hillary gave up and now it's up to me to rate the hospitals. Heck, I didn't even play a doctor on TV. Lacking the funding that the above mentioned groups possess, I'll have to wing it. So, stand back as the Renegade Smoker rates Health Care.
I drove to the nearest hospital for a first-hand observation. Medicine sure hasn't changed since I was last there. Doctors still use "outdoor therapy" on smokers. It's a good thing that we're a hardy lot out here in Colorado, because there on the lawn, in wheelchairs and gurneys, enjoying the sunshine and the near zero temperatures were people sick enough to be in a hospital. Oh, that's right. They are in the hospital. They're under doctors care.
I was always under the impression that doctors were, "to do no more harm." Apparently, the doctors out here haven't taken to their Hippocratic oath very well. "Treat the Patient" has taken a back seat to "Who's your insurance company?" A Great Moment in Medicine is now the Presentation of the Bill. Money is still the number one topic in the hospital. Unlike the auto industry, there is no guaranteed work done on the premises.
We are told that environmental tobacco smoke kills, but I noticed that the hospital was putting out a fair amount of smoke from its smokestacks. It wasn't tobacco smoke, as all the smokers were out on the lawn. I'm sure they have a tobacco filter so they don't put tobacco smoke into the air. But, what is that stuff coming from the stacks? Why must it be discharged so far away from the ground? Is that smoke harmful? Will people get healthier breathing in that smoke, or has the hospital come up with a new form of "perpetual motion" when cured patients leave the hospital, cough up Lord-knows-what from the smoke, and re-enters that hallowed institution. You know, the one where 85% of Americans die. The hospital.
I just happened to notice a hospital bill while I was there. Did you know that they charge $2.00 for a Tylenol ? I understand that the hospital does pretty good with this particular medication. It's the brand Doctor's recommend the most. It's also a brand which is given to the hospital, along with money, to insure that it's the brand Doctor's recommend the most. In truth, it's the brand that makes the most money for the hospital. It does have some medicinal value, but I suspect that other drugs might also do the job. And, don't try to outsmart the hospital by bringing in $1.98 worth of that medicine. They won't let you use it. You're playing ball in their park, and they want you to use their ball.
The hospital is going to be busy. People are getting headaches trying to figure out if they have to pay taxes for the three weeks that the government was shut down "due to lack of funding". Taxpayers' backs are broken from their burdens. I get a bitter taste in my mouth when I think of our elected public officials. These symptoms can be treated at the hospital. Just pop one of those two dollar Tylenol's in your mouth and you're on your way to good health.
Of course, all the medicine in the world won't help the Renegade Smoker from seeing red. "Foul Ball!" I say. If you go to the hospital with a broken leg, why can't you smoke? If your problem is a pinto bean stuck in your ear, what's that got to do with smoking? If you're there waiting for your first-born to fill the hallways with that cry which says, "I'm here", why can't you enjoy a cigarette? You're paying your way. What's the problem here?
The problem is one of control. Wherever I go, I see people stepping over each other on the way to the top of the pile. Perhaps the Surgeon General, when not masturbating, wants to have "the power" over America. Maybe Hillary's having a tough day with Bill. Either of these people can get out of the doldrums by controlling people. Tell everybody lies long enough and they'll believe them. We are at the point where we have been told everything except not to buy cigarettes. We can't smoke them in public places. We can't smoke them outdoors in public places. We can pay the taxes on them, but we can't enjoy them.
I'm really not too sure about our government and how it works. We just got through with Black History Month. We're not supposed to be racist in our thoughts or deeds, but what would happen were we to have White History Month? Why not just have History Month?
60 Minutes with Mike Wallace, Sunday March 24, 1996
I don't own a tobacco company, nor will I presume to act if I had. I own DerfIndustries, and have my hands full doing that. I sell signs, T-shirts (the world's most carefully spelled garment) and stationery. I am too busy to run tobacco companies.
But, as CEO of the world's sole supplier of SMOKERS REVENGE products, I can tell you that my company has a lot in common with tobacco companies. I refused to watch CBS's 60 Seconds last night, Sunday March 24, 1996, because the only good thing about it is when they say, "Good night." But, let me give you the Renegade Smokers thoughts on the subject.
First of all, the only companies which benefits from customers dropping dead are the casket companies and mortuaries. Cemeteries lose money. Dead customers don't pay money. Need a Ph.D. to figure that one out? Dead people are lousy customers. If you run an ordinary business, you want somebody who is alive enough to sign the check or dig into a wallet. Any questions yet?
Is anybody beating me over my head to use their products? You bet they are. There are organizations in which the officers use powerful narcotics on a regular basis. They get all hyped up and tell their underlings what they think is the way things should be done. This is passed down to the consumer. The consumer doesn't get the narcotics, but gets to pay for them. We call this type of abuse GOVERNMENT and the narcotic is POWER. Nothing new here, right?
There's another company who adds chemicals to nutrients my body needs to stay alive. Somebody happened to notice and started whining about it. So, now that company's in a fix. They want to make their product so good that you want to use it instead of anything else anybody has to offer, but the public's wise to it. What did they do? In this case, they changed the name from Kellogg's Sugar Corn Pops to Kellogg's Corn Pops. The sugar's still there, and it hooks me every morning. I love Sugar Corn Pops, but they cause cavities. Where's Mack Wallace when you need him?
Then there's the problem of kids wearing advertisements for products made for adults. I saw a kid wearing a T-shirt (the world's most carefully spelled garment) on his way to school. It had a silk-screened logo of a product made by a major corporation. I might add that this corporation makes other items, some of which are appropriate for minors, but their main products are for people of legal age. You gotta be an adult to use it - that's the law. And, make no doubt about it. This product kills. But, here's this ten-year-old kid wearing that shirt. Something's got to be done about this! I want to see 60 Seconds interview this kid's parents and ask them how they can avoid having their child taken away by the Child Protection Agency for doing this heinous crime. Oh, did I mention that the shirt said, "Heartbeat of America" and had a picture of a Chevie on it?
Come on, 60 Seconds. If you're going to "expose" the American Way of Life, please be fair and show the total picture.
As I mentioned above, I refused to watch 60 Seconds last night. I don't need the "I" chip in my set to block out idiocy. I've got a selector switch and I selected intelligence over ignorance. I watched WWII footage and noted people who were dying for a smoke. I guess 60 Seconds will do a story on all the soldiers who died from smoking a cigarette while staring at a hole in their leg 88 millimeters in diameter and figure out that the cigarette is responsible.
That's all the time I have this week. Tune in next week and see Moron Shaper discover the TRUTH about where your lap goes when you stand up.
The Man who Never Was
(Invisible Congressmen)
Okay, the truth has leaked out and I'm not going to Nixon and pretend it isn't so. I own stock in a major company. So there, I've admitted it and I'm going to get on with my life.
As a stockholder in this corporation, I get a yearly report on what it's doing, how much it's spending - you know, the Annual Stock Report. We have a convention and elect new officers on a regular basis and, I have to admit, I've taken part in selecting who's gonna run my company. Remember, as a stockholder, I actually own a piece of the pie.
Well, the other day I tried to get in touch with one of the people at the company. I had a question for him and felt that he could either supply me with the answer or direct me to someone who could. I called his office and got his secretary. It turned out that this man wasn't in his office in town but, instead, was out of the state in another office maintained at company expense. Now, remembering that I was a stockholder and the company is me, I started to wonder.
I called his other office and spoke to another secretary. No, he wasn't available to talk on the phone because he was in some sort of a meeting. Would I leave a message on his electronic message machine? Well, no I wouldn't. I don't do computer dating, either. Something about personal face-to-contact appeals to me. But, a lingering thought started to haunt me. Maybe this guy didn't exist. I've never laid eyes on him, never shook his hand. Maybe this was a fake guy on the payroll. It was no big secret that my company was in financial woes, perhaps even defaulting on a big loan. Maybe I had uncovered something. I would check further into the matter at a later date.
I waited and plotted my strategy. I would go to his office with a piece of mail to be hand-delivered to the recipient. I had used this strategy earlier in life and found it to be useful. Armed with a clipboard, envelope stamped with an Easter Seal, brown Bermuda Shorts and shirt, I entered his local office.
Again he wasn't in, so my scheme didn't achieve its goal. But, I took careful note of the surroundings before making good my escape. I noted pictures of this man doing fabulous things for the company. I saw him "mingling digits" with the President of the Company at Headquarters. I saw plaques with shiny brass plates. I saw pictures of him with the first shovelful of dirt at a ground breaking ceremony. But, there was no man.
I suspect there never was. I have located a list of 435 other people on the payroll who don't exist. The only thing they do is draw a salary and hire friends and relatives. I call this an outrage. Everybody else calls it business as usual at the United States House of Representatives.
Notes on CBS Evening News with Dan Rather, March 28, 1996
I did have the television on tonight and, as luck would have it, it was tuned to the CBS Evening News with Dan Rather. It was the news of March 28, 1996. Unfortunately, I was experiencing temporary lapses in power due to a storm on the other side of the mountain, but I did have a battery powered tape recorder. I recorded what audio I could.
Scott Pelley made the recorder stating, "a criminal enterprise engaged in racketeering and fraud". Then I heard the voice of Dan Morales, Texas State Attorney, say the words, "committed illegal acts including mail fraud and wire fraud, violations of federal racketeering and conspiracy laws and others."
Scott Pelley's voice continued, "The largest and most destructive campaign of corporate misinformation in U. S. Business History," and, "used the mail and phone lines to disseminate what the suit calls 'lies'".
The things in quotes are true to the sources listed. I'm sorry that I couldn't get the whole thing, but I can only assume, from what I was able to hear with the on-again off-again situation of the power, that CBS News has uncovered yet another scam going on in government. Five hundred and thirty seven no-shows, out to pay themselves first. Our government is a corporation, and we're all stockholders. It's true they are trying to get me to pay for three weeks of non-funded service. That's racketeering, plain and simple. They use the mail to send me tax forms, knowing damn well I'm not paying them - haven't for at least ten years (didn't evade the law, complied with the law). These are the people who get together at night when the C-Span cameras are off and vote themselves raises.
It's good to see that CBS is on top of things.
Smoke and City Laws
DerfIndustries has its headquarters high in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. There are four buildings on the grounds. It's ten miles to the nearest "real" stop sign and fifteen to the nearest working stop light. There is a neighborhood watch if the fact that a sundial sits in front of the main building. This way people won't think I'm stingy; I can give people the time of day. I might add that this sundial is set to Mountain Standard Time and there is no provision for changing to Daylight Savings Time. This timepiece, using the same principals which govern setting of the World Clock, is set by Nature, not Congress. It's one of the few items on this property that is NOT regulated by legislation of any form.
From this remote location, I can look at the world with a different sort of perspective. Looking down the valley, the first thing I see is, well it's smoke and dust. Yes, that's what it is. A big brown cloud is stretching from the Wyoming border south towards Denver. The cloud is rusty brown on top and dark grey on the bottom. It's pretty obvious that the brown stuff is dust and dirt. But what about that dark grey stuff on the bottom? Why, that's smoke!
Here at the DerfIndustries Institute, we have decided to take a peek at smoking and see if we can actually do something about it. I don't need to worry about the brown stuff, as I'm not the idiot that built the town in the bottom of a bowl where the Great Plains meet the Foothills of the Rockies. We can't do anything about that. But, we can do something about that dark grey stuff. Let's take a good look at it with DerfIndustries spectrometer. Holy Mackerel! I was right about the smoke, but I wasn't prepared for the fact that most of it, like 98 plus percent, was industrial, diesel and automotive smoke. Well, I'll be dipped! I can do something about this.
I had my car pulled into the DerfIndustries Maintenance Building and had the Mac the mechanic take a look at the situation. I wanted my 1985 BMW to put out less smoke so my neighbors who live in the "brown cloud" would have an easier time breathing. Mac spotted something called a "smog pump". Driven by a belt coming off the crankshaft, this device inserts air into the exhaust pipe. When checking the pollution coming from the tail pipe, the parts per million go down when the exhaust is "diluted" with this fresh air. But, the total garbage coming out of the exhaust pipe is about the same. Actually, it's more with the smog pump hooked up, because it takes power to run it. Disconnecting this device increased my miles per gallon, reduced my gasoline purchases and resulted in less pollution. Disconnecting this device also is against federal law. Could this mean it might be against the law to breath clean air?
We looked for more sources of pollution and came across this clever can inserted into the exhaust system. It's called a catalytic converter and it's supposed to make "cleaner" exhaust come out of the tailpipe. We took it out and looked inside to note countless thousands of hexagonal-shaped tubes, each lined with platinum a few atoms thick. This raised the hackles on the back of my neck. Platinum is one of the most expensive elements on earth. You don't just stumble over a nugget the size of a softball. No, it has to be refined. They take tons of rock, pulverize it, run it through a chemical bath and it doesn't come easily. Or cheaply. I took a look at one of those refineries in Canada and you'll never guess what its principle output is. You guessed it. Smoke. Skies full of smoke for a few measly ounces of platinum. I looked at the catalytic converter. All of my exhaust had to travel through those tubes, lowering the efficiency of the exhaust system. I looked at Mac as if to question the viability of this piece of equipment and he gave me the "mechanic's shrug". We threw it on top of the smog pump and replaced it with a piece of normal exhaust tubing. This alone gave me an extra two miles per gallon in overall economy. And, of course, federal laws had to be broken to get cleaner air.
We kept at it all day long. We pitched out that cannon in the steering wheel which the government said I had to have and for which BMW had to charge a grand. The five-mile-an-hour bumper was beat up from hitting mosquitoes, so it went into the aluminum pile. So did the side door rails. Remember, BMW doesn't stand for Buffalo Meat Wagon. It's not a Sherman tank. It's an automobile made for luxury travel. It's not made to get into an accident, and neither is my 1962 Mini. I didn't need those parts, even though federal law said I did, and I welcomed the additional gasoline mileage. At the rate we were going, I would end up with a luxury car that got over 30 mpg on leaded 70 octane "Farm Gas". This gas, incidently, costs all of sixty-two cents per gallon and there is NO federal tax attached to it. And, of course, it's against federal law to use it in a modern automobile.
But, the end of the day came upon us and we took a look at what we had done. We started out with a "federally legal" BMW which got 25 miles per gallon. We ended up with a "mountain legal" BMW which now gets 33 mpg, an increase of 32 percent. So, that's 32% less gasoline burnt which means less pollution for my friends in the low lands.
Now comes the fun part. I cannot drive the car in town because it doesn't meet the emission requirements of Colorado. In fact, I can't even sell a car which doesn't have all the emission equipment attached and working, even if it works better without it. Maybe the townies like the extra smoke, it's hard to tell. But, after digesting the data obtained, the team of scientists at the DerfIndustries Institute came to the following conclusions:
1. People living in the cities (Cityots) enjoy breathing car exhaust. They demand it.
2. Cityots make a lot of money off of gasoline.
3. Cityots get pissed when a Mountain Man comes up with the right solution.
4. Cityots can't drive for beans. That's why they have to add a thousand pounds of "safety" equipment to their cars.
5. Cityots got what they deserve. Cities.
Straight Stories from the White House
Okay, you caught me. I was watching television this morning, May 20, 1996. I was trying to see the news, but instead caught this 2 hour commercial for upcoming CBS television shows called, CBS THIS MORNING with Paula Zahn and Harry Smith. I just happened to turn it on when White House Spokesman Mike McCurry said, and I quote, "Sometimes we put out a straight story."
Let's take a close look at this. If the White House sometimes puts out a straight story, what about the rest of the times? Is it mis-information that's put out to scare us into thinking the way "they" want us to think? If this came from the White House, what about lower ranking government agencies?
The government want us to believe that tobacco companies are adding nicotine to the cigarettes to guarantee addiction. That's the word. In fact, the government wants the Food and Drug Administration to regulate it. That means more government people wasting taxpayers' money on things that aren't important. Well, this Renegade Smoker has the word on what goes into a cigarette, and I can assure you that they don't add nicotine. They HAVE found new ways to avoid wasting tobacco by using 100% of the tobacco leaf, but I'm afraid the truth is they don't have a machine spraying nicotine on the tobacco as it goes by. This is the truth.
In 1992, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) produced, at taxpayers' expense, a document stating that environmental tobacco smoke (ETS) kills 3000 people a year among adult non-smokers. In the four years since, no court has convicted anybody of attempted murder for creating ETS. Something is wrong here. Either the EPA's document isn't telling the truth and ETS is harmless, or it must be legal to attempt to murder somebody with smoke. There is no other possibility. This also is the truth.
It would almost seem that our government is "blind-siding" or mis-directing us. It's sort of like what magicians do and even I am prone to it. Last week I discovered a five dollar bill on the floor of a casino. There were at least a thousand people standing around. The first thing I did was to put my foot on the bill so it was out of sight. That's called hiding the evidence. Then I took off my hat and, holding it in my left hand, waved it on high while doing my best rodeo cowboy imitation. While everybody was looking at my hat, I bent down, crumbled the bill into a ball and palmed it. Nobody thought they were out five bucks. They all thought I was nuts. The bottom line was, I got it and that's the truth.
When the main topic of concern is on the level of "Eggs have been found to be beneficial to the human body if taken in moderation" instead of, "The Government is several trillion dollars in the hole and your United States Savings Bonds, which are backed by the full Faith and Credit of the United States, are in jeopardy", Americans are being taken for another ride.
Now, with our government nearly bankrupt, with a new budget being written every month, with Dan Rostenkowski in jail making $96,000 a year on his Congressional pension, now we're talking tobacco again. What's important now is these ten year old kids murdering infants. What's important now is the rising taxes, rising government waste and rising list of non-accomplishments. What's important now is seeing to it that our children and future generations have a place called America in which to live and prosper.
Yes, tobacco is an important issue, I can't deny that. But, put into the perspective of What's Important Now, I'd say it's about as important as Scrabble for Dyslexics or tartar control for dogs. These things really don't matter if What's Important Now gets ignored. And that, my friend, is the truth.
Posse Comitatus
There's a bunch of clowns out there who are causing a bunch of trouble. Last I saw of them, they were surrounded by "the enemy" and the word "surrender" was heard in the air. Let's take a look at these weirdos and see what lies behind their actions.
One of the first things I noted was the fact that they issued their own "money". Actually, is was just a small sheet of paper with the words united states on it, but it wasn't issued by the Federal government. There's no money to back it up. The people who issued it weren't the Federal Government, but were seven private citizens with no accountability.
I saw an interview with one of these seven people. It turned out he wasn't even eligible for a credit card at Toys R Us. Yet, he is one of the people responsible for "littering" America with these worthless notes, claiming them to be "money". It's plain to see why they are being "courted to surrender", and I'm being polite.
Of course, you will find these notes in Montana, but don't be surprised to see them in all fifty states or even in foreign lands. These notes have circled the globe and the printing presses are still working on producing this fanciful wallpaper they still call "money". But, here at the Renegade Smoker Institute, we have, once again, isolated and identified the problem.
You see, we're not talking Posse Comitatus or anything like that. We're talking about the United States Government. The same government which said "environmental tobacco smoke kills" yet doesn't consider blowing smoke in somebody's an act of attempted murder (and here I always thought you couldn't have your cake and eat it, too). I used to think that our government issued money, but they don't. It comes from the Federal Reserve Bank, an entity consisting of seven private citizens. Well, they seem to be bank owners, but let's not throw that into the fray. The Governor of the Fed was the one bounced on the credit card. They are accountable to nobody and can print as much "money" as they want. People picket the White House daily in what seems to be a vain effort to bring back the five cent nickel. United States Savings Bonds, which are "backed by the full Faith and Credit of the United States" will be worthless when the government defaults on the national debt. Default? Well, if they can't seem to be able to get a budget together, then default of the loan is inevitable.
Perhaps our government might take a little time off to view the situation. Take a day off from foreclosing farms, give the Food Police a little time to get its act together, tell the California Cops to leave their batons at home. Think about that oath of office you swore to uphold. Check out that copy of the Constitution you have in the back of your desk. Remember for whom you are working.
Oh yeah, there appears to be a splinter group calling themselves the "Freemen" up in Montana. Let's see if they can do any better, or any worse, that our elected officials. Note well that the Renegade Smoker does not condone, nor does it condemn, activities of any of the parties listed in this document. As Joe Friday once said, "Just the facts, ma'am."
Nicorette Gum
Back in the late eighties, in those days when we had a Billy Goat for a Surgeon General, one of the major tobacco companies was trying to get a new cigarette on the market. Well, it wasn't really a cigarette. It was more like a tobacco steamer. I had the privilege to stop by the company and try out this new product.
It looked like a cigarette. The filter was a bit longer, but it looked like a cigarette. Closer examination revealed the truth. The business end of the cigarette featured a small black circle with seven tiny holes in it. This was charcoal, and the holes assured that the whole cylinder of charcoal would burn evenly. This was enclosed in a shiny metal cylinder which was, in turn, surrounded by tobacco and cigarette paper. A longer-than-usual filter was at the other end.
I lit one up. The first thing I noticed was that they needed to work on the flavor part. I smoke non-filtered regular size cigarettes and wasn't prepared for this new taste. I looked at the flame end of the cigarette and saw that it resembled the ash on the end of a regular cigarette. I puffed away and clouds of what appeared to be smoke billowed in front of me. But, the length of the cigarette never changed. It remained constant for the whole period of time it took me to enjoy this new cigarette.
Here was another thing that struck me. There was no smoke coming off the cigarette when it wasn't being puffed. In fact, you could throw the thing into a trash can full of paper and it wouldn't start a fire. It was a safe cigarette. But, it wasn't a cigarette. It was classified as "just another nicotine delivery system" and the government wouldn't allow it's manufacture.
Well, here we are in the middle of April of 1996 and we have a product out there called Nicorette chewing gum. It's chewing gum laced with nicotine. Here's the deal. You're trying to quit smoking and Jonesing for a smoke. You take a stick of this gum which has enough nicotine to make filibuster Congress, stuff it in your face, masticate like mad, and you're cured - for the next ten minutes, anyway.
Is this a nicotine delivery system? Are we going to see kids chewing it in school? With the smokeless cigarette described above, a smoker gets steam, not smoke. Why can't we have a premier cigarette instead of Nicorette gum? And, what about the gum addict who gets stuck in the airport in Tampa Florida, where chewing gum is illegal?
The Renegade Smoker will be looking into this one. You can count on it.
Listening to our Government
Telephone Recording
Yesterday, April 24, 1996, I had a curious thing happen to me. I had called the Internal Revenue Service's toll free number to ask if taxpayers were supposed to pay for the three weeks the government was shut down in 1995. The agent, a Ms. Armstrong, passed the buck telling me to "contact your congressman", who just happened to be the one who suggested that I call the IRS in the first palce. I sort of suspected that I couldn't get a "Yes or No" answer, but wasn't at all prepared for what followed.
Ms. Armstrong asked me why I kept repeating everything she said and I told her I kept a tape recorder running in the room to record my side of the telephone conversation. This way I could refer to the tape at a later date to insure accuracy in my writings. Well, she put a stop to that. She informed me that it was against the law to record a conversation with a government employee unless prior approval is given. I asked who to call for approval and was given the number of the IRS in Denver, which is (303) 446-1650.
Now, bear in mind that we're not talking about wiretapping or anything. We're talking about a fifty dollar compact shirt-pocket sized tape recorder that is used when one is too lazy to take notes. Its condenser microphone can't hear what's on the other end (probably because the phone receiver end is over my ear). There's nothing plugged in, nothing spliced. Just a device to record sound generated in the room.
I called the number and spoke to Kathryn Gregg. I mention her name because she is the sole person who answered my question that I've been asking since January. She identified herself and said America had to pay for those three weeks of non-service. But, that's not what this is all about. I informed her that I was recording what I was saying to her and she asked me to turn off the machine. She said that she didn't have a tape recorder in her office and it was "unfair" for me to use one. Well, I guess she must have thought that it was okay for the IRS to give my finances a rectal exam with their Ultra-Media Super Computer every year, but it's "unfair" for me to use my fifty buck recorder. The red light came on.
I don't know how many words I say each day, but I consider myself accountable for each and every word. Maybe I'm not too proud about the language I use around the gang (language which would make a Bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window, make Popeye blush and bankrupt the O.E.D.), but I'll stand by it. Why can't my government? Why are they afraid of me recording my voice? What is it that they think I'll uncover?
I'm no anarchist, but something is fishy here. First we had "The Man Who Never Was", AKA your local Congressman. I've been to Wayne Allard's Ft. Collins Colorado office and seen the pictures, the statues, flags, medals and artwork. I didn't see Wayne. I've called his office in Washington and spoke to men and women, none of whom were Wayne. I note that he hasn't missed picking up a paycheck, but I haven't seen him. He's "The Man Who Never Was". Now I'm on the verge of discovering something else, but I haven't got a clue as to what it is. I thought this was America, but it's behaving like Nazi Germany or the Russia of old. Big Brother is REALLY on my back about this one.
But, will the Renegade Smoker give in? Did Jubilation T. Cornpone win the war? Do eggs stick to Teflon? Will we have a budget again? Will the National Debt disappear? Is Damnedyankee one word? Want a black eye?
The answer to all these questions is NO, not only NO, but HELL NO!
So, I started by looking in the phone book. It clearly says, "It is a crime under federal and state laws for any person to wiretap or otherwise intercept a telephone call unless that person has first obtained a court order or the consent of one or both people participating in the call. The penalty for illegal wiretapping can be imprisonment and/or a fine." I was in good shape here, as I didn't intercept a phone call. Also, I had the consent of one of the parties, myself, the only person recorded on the machine. But, for reasons of making a chain of evidence, I called the phone company and asked them to clarify this matter for me. After about fifteen minutes of pressing numbers on the phone, I got to a human being. She referred me to AT&T's legal department at (602) 351-5249. I called and spoke with a lady who identified herself as, "Anne". I asked for a written copy of AT&T's wiretap policy and this was denied. I was referred to my State Attorney.
So, I called the Colorado State District Attorney at (970) 498-7200 to ask if it were legal to have a tape recorder running in my office while speaking to people on the phone. I was told to hire a private attorney, as their office doesn't give out that kind of information. I guess it must be against the law to find out what the law is.
Looks like I'm at a dead end, doesn't it? Well, it's really not. It's an opening into a new fold of government fat. I'm not the Sage of the World or anything, but I can tell that something is wrong when the government of the people is keeping secrets from the people. We know they aren't accountable for their acts, but now they want anonymity too.
So, that's the story so far. The government isn't responding to the people. Our elected officials, hired to "serve the public", are serving themselves first. We lost three weeks of government services, three weeks that we had to pay for and we're just going to sit here and take it? Not the Renegade Smoker. I've drawn my line in the sand. Anybody want to join me?
I say, "Bury the SOB's", and you can quote me on that. Bury 'em in mail. Tie up their phones with comments on how you feel about your government. Get on the bandwagon. And, if they give you any grief, tell 'em the Renegade Smoker sent you.
America's Cynic at Large
Have you had it up to there with the simple things of life? Enjoy America's Cynic at Large as he states his opinion on everything.
America's Cynic at Large has a large chip on his shoulder. He just wants to be left alone, but the struggle to achieve this elusive goal can be read in the articles below:
So tell me, who's on the payroll?
Unnamed Officials
I just saw a bit on CNN about air safety and people who inspect aircraft. Two people from the Federal Aviation Administration, testified before a federal committee. They said that they were neither trained nor qualified to inspect some of the aircraft. Their voices were altered so nobody could identify them. They also had what appeared to be boxes covering their heads. We pay their salaries with our taxes.
How many times have we heard, "A high government source who doesn't wish to be identified" said this and that? We already know that nobody in government is responsible for anything. They all do the Bart Simpson bit, saying, "I didn't do it!". There is no accountability for actions. We pay their salaries with our taxes.
Now it appears that there is anonymity in our government. Taxpayers have, in effect, hired nameless, faceless beings who only appear on payday. The day of the federal employee with federal identification is being changed to the day of the federal employee with a federal bag on his head. We pay their salaries with our taxes.
My beef is that all I want to do is to sit back and enjoy a smoke. Unfortunately, these nameless public servants don't want me to. They've waffled on what kind of coffee I can drink, that it, if it's safe to drink coffee that day. I'm told not to eat Chinese or Mexican food. They've added thousands of dollars to the price of a car with smog pumps, air bags and event recorders. Smog pumps add fresh air to the exhaust, decreasing the parts per million reading while maintaining the level of pollution. Air bags save lives of people who forget they're not in a Sherman tank and crash their cars. I don't have a tank and I haven't crashed my car. Event recorders tell my mechanic, Mr. Goodshaft, when the engine burped. I don't want these features and don't want to pay for them. I don't want to pay for the gasoline it takes to haul all of this around for a couple of hundred thousand miles.
Demand accountability. Demand responsibility. Remember, it's your government, not a social club for millionaires. You hired 'em and you can fire 'em. Do it in November at the ballot box.
Who's In Charge Here?
Taxation Without Representation
This is a two part story. I'll begin with "The Man Who Never Was".
Have you ever spoken with your Congressman? Your Senators? How about your President? We all know what they look like, but have we ever seen them?
Starting at the beginning of this year, I have tried to contact Congressman Wayne Allard, my Representative in Congress. I wanted to know if I had to pay taxes for the three weeks the government was shut down in 1995. It was a pretty simple, straight forward question that could be answered with a yes or a no. I called his office in Ft. Collins and he wasn't there. I called his office in Washington and he was "unavailable". I wrote and received form letters, none of which answered my question. Were it not for the fact that this man never misses a paycheck, I'd say he wasn't a living entity. As far as representing me in Congress, he's a failure. He's not answering my question.
The first time I called and asked the question, his secretary told me she didn't know the answer and referred me to the IRS. I called the IRS and they told me to ask my Congressman. I then did the unthinkable and went to town, to smokers' hell, and went directly to Wayne Allard's office. No Wayne, but the secretary suggested that the answer to my question might be available a couple of blocks away at the IRS office. I went there with my question and they didn't know the answer either. I asked for the name of the IRS agent at the information counter and he covered his left breast pocket and refused to give it to me.
The bottom line is the government wants the money but doesn't want me. That's called taxation without representation. Now, let's get on to part two.
It's Party Time!
The last time people were taxed and not given fair representation for their money was about 200 years ago. The government said, "You have to pay tax, even if you don't like it!" The people of Boston rejoiced at this news and had a party. A Tea Party.
I think I'll have me a cup of tea and sit back and enjoy a smoke.
Stupid Laws
Kids Flying
You can't buy a house when you're only seven years old. Nor can you vote, drive a car, enlist in the Marines or sign a legal contract. They made a law saying it's illegal to sell cigarettes to minors. I have to admit that I agree with these laws.
Interestingly, if you're seven years old, it's perfectly legal to take off in a snowstorm. There are no age restrictions to operate a heavier-than-air craft.
Just about any idiot could have told you that the weather yesterday was the pits, with rain and snow falling horizontally. I wouldn't drive in it. Then you add some rinky-dinky airplane, one, I might add, that doesn't have de-icing equipment on the propeller or wings, put the whole affair at 6,100 feet above sea level, over a mile above the densest atmosphere and tell the pilot, who has all of 35 hours flight time, and only six years ago sported pink Pampers on her butt, to, "Take off". The fact that the pilot doesn't know the difference between the Reynolds Factor, a formula which deals with the amount of lift lost when down-sizing a wing surface, and Reynolds Wrap is obvious.
But, the responsibility of the aircraft belonged to the flight instructor. So, in all reality, it was he who "bought the farm" in Cheyenne. But, it does bring to light a significant fact; common sense cannot be legislated. If you have to make a law proclaiming it to be illegal to throw a pie in somebody's face, you've got a problem with the pie-thrower, not the general public. Why don't we make it against the law to be an idiot?
We don't need laws telling us what to do. We need to have the common sense to figure out for ourselves what's right and what's wrong, and we need to have the will-power to do the right thing from there.
Electronic Voice Messaging
I had to call a major United States manufacturing company the other day. I got the familiar, "Please make a choice from one of the following options" electronic voice. It's the sound of the nineties - Electronic Digital Messaging.
I can remember calling somebody up on the phone in the good ol' days. You'd pick up the receiver, dial using a rotary motion a number that had a prefix with a personality. Something like Tremont, or Bigelow or Sagamore. Now we punch in the digits 873, 244 and 724 on an electronic keyboard.
Phones used to ring. Two bells inside the instrument were struck with a brass mallet to produce the sound which meant big news was on the way. And, you couldn't buy a phone for love or money. The phone company owed them, and each one was identified as such. That was then. Today, mine buzzes obnoxiously to announce another telemarketer and it came free with a box of corn flakes.
When the phone rung, time stopped. No matter what you were doing, you HAD TO answer the phone. Remember coming in the door with both arms full of groceries only to hear the phone ring? Remember dropping those bags, running to the phone, grasping for the handpiece only to hear "click" as the other party hung up? Don't bother today.
Yesterday my phone rang while I was shaving. With one half of my covered with dripping lather, I babtised my new 900 MHZ telephone, in designer black, to hear a digital voice say, "Please hold the line. We have an important message for you." Music remarkable only for its lack of being able to be recalled was piped in. Every fifteen seconds or so the digital voice came back to explain that this message was very important, but all the agents were busy at this time. I was urged to continue holding. This "important message", recited from a script by a real human being, was from a collection agency and they had dialed the wrong number. And, as a bonus, my phone doesn't work because of the soap that dripped into the circuitry.
Here's one I love. If you so elect, you can have "Call Waiting". For a slight extra monthly fee, you can have this feature added. A tone comes through your receiver if another person is trying to call you while you're on the phone. Unless you've got two mouths, this really doesn't make sense. If you don't have "Call Waiting", the person calling hears a busy signal, knows you're there and on the phone, and calls back in a few minutes. If you do have "Call Waiting", then the person calling hears you tell them they're "on the phone can you please call back", and you can figure out they're there.
But, the worst one is the telemarketer. They wait for you to have that first bite of steak in your mouth before ringing your phone. They start the conversation with, "Hello Mr./Ms. (insert last name her), have you had a nice day today?" You start to think of where you left that pamphlet with instructions for performing the Heimlich Maneuver as you mutter, "Ooomph". Then, after nearly choking to death on the steak, you find out that this is a "courtesy call" to inform me that for only fifty dollars a year I can get my credit card insured. The law says I'm not liable for any purchases over fifty bucks if my credit card gets stolen, so there's no big whoop here. But, I'm not going to let them off the hook that easy. I ask for their home phone number, explaining that this is the New America and to conserve energy, I only do business with people who work from home. A few actually give me a number, and I ask those that do for their social security number. I ask if they accept Food Stamps as payment. It's about then that they figure out what's up. They hang up and put an electronic "skull and crossbones" on my phone number so they don't waste time calling again.
Just Say, "Whoa"
There's an new group out there. It's called Who Has Overall Accountability, or W.H.O.A for short. W.H.O.A. has figured out what the real problem is and they want to get on with their lives.
W.H.O.A. says that parents will have care, custody and control of their children. Along with this comes accountability. There need be no laws regarding discrimination because somebody is too young. If a kid wants to drive, then the parent will teach him to do so safely. If the kid has an accident, then the responsibility falls on the parents, not the child. Common sense tells us that more kids die from car accidents than from cancer, so this area should come it near the top of the list.
W.H.O.A. thinks that violence committed by children is intolerable. Where did they ever learn to behave like that? When I grew up in the fifties outside of Birmingham Alabama, we didn't have a law that said, "No guns in school." It just wasn't appropriate, because kids didn't bring guns to school. We brought books and pencils, but nowhere in our curriculum was gunfire mentioned. The worst thing a student can do is to lug heavy things to and from school, especially heavy things that aren't going to be used. Something changed in the last forty years. Think television had something to do with it?
I would come home from school and do homework. After my homework was checked by my parents, I would be allowed to read. If I wanted to watch television, I had to submit a list of shows I wanted to see, in advance, along with the reason I wanted to see them. I watched the news and a few specials, but at no time was I allowed to just sit there and be "entertained". I was a bit upset at the time, but now I realize that my vocabulary is about twice the norm. I never saw a murder and rape movie until I was an adult, and then quickly turned it off. I missed a lot of violence, but, not to worry. I'm catching up.And it's not just with the movies. It's with network television shows and even commercials. Whoa!
W.H.O.A. thinks there should be no drinking age. Parents who allow their children to drink should have their heads examined. I'm not talking about a sip of champaign at the wedding or the wine in church. I'm talking about having a beer or a shot of Jack Daniels. Liquor costs money, and it's a shame to waste good liquor on a kid. They can't buy you a drink, why should you buy them one? Common sense.
W.H.O.A. thinks that a whole bunch of laws could be wiped from the books were parents to treat their children at least as well as a rancher treats his livestock. That's not too much to ask, is it? Ranchers are liable for damages done by their livestock; shouldn't parents be liable for damages done by their children? Were a parent aware that if little Johnny shoots little Billy he would have to pay the hospital bill he might keep a tighter rein on little Johnny.
Next time, just say, "W.H.O.A.".
Curfew for Kids
First, our government had to mess with my enjoyment of smoking a cigarette. I fought back, often using the battle cry, "Tobacco today! What's next?" Now I can see what's coming over the horizon. Look out, and don't say I didn't warn you. The government wants to control everything.
Mr. I-Didn't-Inhale has proposed a curfew on minors. They will have to be home by 8:00, 9:00 or 11:00, depending on the day or they will be breaking the law. Excuse me, but isn't it the parents' job to raise children? When did the government decide to take the kid out of the family?
They decided to do that when the parents didn't, that's when. Parents should have the common sense to tell their children to come home at night. What can Johnny do at 10:00 at night anyway? Get in trouble? The library is closed, but bars are open. The stores are empty of customers and clerks. There's nothing to do except get into trouble. Where are the parents?
I have to agree with our President on the fact that kids don't need to be outside, unsupervised in the middle of the night. However, I disagree with his proposal to make it against the law to break this curfew. Once again, the problem isn't with the kids. The problem is with the parents. It's the job of the parents to raise children. Parents are supposed to impart moral and social values into their children. Rumania tried to raise children, and we all saw the results.
Regulation of family values is not the government's job. If you can't raise a child, you had better learn how or reap the consequences. If you can't keep your kid from smoking, Big Brother will step in and do it for you at taxpayers' expense. You got a problem with that? Here's your chance to do something about it. Tom Lehr once said, "Life is like a sewer; what you get out of it depends on what you put into it". If we don't put anything into the raising of our children, we're going to end up with a generation of people with no social or moral values. Kids who shoot kids will grow up to be adults who shoot adults.
It was a sad day for America, but I guess I should have seen it coming. "They" have struck again. Who? "They". "They" made it legal to kidnap Mexicans and bring those citizens into the United States. "They" said that environmental tobacco smoke kills, yet there are no cases of attempted murder from this substance. "They" are the ones who said there was too much smoke in the air we breathe and, to alleviate the problem, clamped down on the source of less than one percent of the smoke we breathe, leaving the industrial and diesel smoke alone.
Yesterday, February 21, 1996, "they" banned breakfast. Who? Well, it's the same group of people who said regular coffee was bad for you. Oops, make that de-caf that's going to kill you. Then they said butter was no good. Next came movie popcorn. A quick twist of the wallet made regular coffee okay to drink, but not the decaffeinated kind. Mexican and Chinese food also got the "Death Rating".
Today CNN announced that most drinking water is unsafe with too many nitrates in it. Perhaps that's what's tainting the coffee, but I don't think I'll ever get the answer to that question. At least, not from "them". I have a well on the premises and live in the High Country, so I don't have to worry about that particular problem. The problem I'm concerned with is, "Who are 'they' and why are 'they' making my life so miserable?"
"They" happen to be people who think I'm some kind of an idiot and can't make an educated choice in my life. "They" want to take care of me by telling me not to eat, drink or be merry. Well, excuuuuuse me!
It just so happens that I am a human being and subject to human feelings. One of the strongest feelings I have is the desire to be left alone. I don't want to be told not to eat this and not to eat that. And, by the God above, I shall eat breakfast. In fact, I'm going to have two helpings this morning. Then I'm going to the movies and stuff myself with popcorn. I'm gonna have a beer before noon, not pay the government for the three weeks they were shut down and tear off all the labels on my pillows. I'm gonna run farm gas (70 octane, plenty of lead) in my BMW because I've already removed the catalytic converter to increase my gas mileage. I'm going to "write below this line," endorse checks on the wrong side and not close the cover before striking. I've had it with "them".
Human nature is a force to be dealt with. It is ruled by the same laws which rule the physical world. "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." In the past, I've always reacted. But, this is 1996 and things are going to change. I'm going to act and watch "them" react. It's their turn for a change.
But, I still won't drink the water.
Parents Raising Children
The government has it all wrong. They've got some pretty big problems to deal with out there. They have targeted their multi-billion dollar anti-smoking gun at me and Little Johnny.
I'm retired. I've got just exactly enough money to pay taxes, hold a mortgage, vote and enjoy fishing. I've managed a company for almost ten years, raised my family, and now look forward to sitting back, taking it easy and enjoying a smoke. I'm not a criminal and comply with all laws that I know of. But my town treats me as if I had leprosy. I'm told to, "Please Smoke Outside", and I don't think that's polite. Especially during inclement weather.
Now, Little Johnny is a fictitious kid in the junior high school in town. He goes to school at 7:30 in the morning and leaves at 11:00 for lunch at MacDuck's, conveniently located across the parking lot. Pushing his way through hoards of drug dealers, expelled friends and the such, he plucks down his money for a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke, the stuff of Champs. He has to be quick about it, because he has to be back at school by 1:00 for his lesson in "civilities". Little Johnny has a job, but he's unaware of it. His job is to prepare himself for life in the Real World. Unable to comprehend the difference between Avoirdupois and Troy ounces, he is aware that there are 16 "lids" to an pound. A bus schedule might as well be printed in Greek, as Little Johnny has no time to figure it out. He has to get outside and smoke marijuana. This might have something to do with his Grade Point Average being in the negative numbers, but he'd deny that.
Little Johnny understands the technology of today and sports a designer colored beeper. His gun won't make it through the school's metal detector, so he packs a carbon-fiber composite knife in his boots. His trademarked motorcycle leather jacket protects him from the cold as he walks to his office, the pay phone outside. A cigarette hangs from the lips of this four foot eight inch student. Wasting time, effort and money to make it a crime for Little Johnny to smoke a cigarette is about as smart as putting in parking meters in Sarejevo.
We're trying to stop a flood by putting in basement pumps. We're trying to find the easy way out, the way that causes the least pain to the least people, but we're still not solving the real problem. We don't have a real problem with legal tobacco. It generates $14 billion in federal excise and state & local sales taxes. It helped reduce our trade deficit to the tune of about four and a half billion dollars. The tobacco industry includes over 2 million jobs servicing 45 million American smokers and countless ones abroad. One needn't be an economics expert to see that the tobacco industry makes its money from people who purchase it. Why are we targeting them as villains? Could it be because we have a real problem with people raising their children and it's too painful to discuss? As mentioned above, kids have a job, one whose pay check is in the form of a report card. Is it wrong to assume that it is the job of the parent to raise children to not use cigarettes? How about guns, Caterpillar D-9 tractors or entering into legal contracts? Kids are supposed to lead sheltered lives, in that they don't have to worry about rent, insurance and other adult activities. Why are they allowed to indulge in the adult activity of smoking?
It's our fault, that's why. We have turned our backs on our children. Where we would not allow Little Johnny to drive the family car, we turn our back as he smokes the family brand. He steals the money, or the cigarettes, from his parents or from funds which should be used for other purposes. That's not what the tobacco company wants. Little Johnny has no real income, and none in sight. Logically, he would be the worst customer any company would want.
But, with a National Debt exceeding five trillion dollars, we pursue the companies and their legal consumers. We can all read the warning on the pack. We know that the Office of the Surgeon General of the United States, whose past leaders have advocated legalizing drugs, touted the values of masturbation, and said second-hand smoke kills 3,500 people a year, can rest on its laurels. Its warning appears on the box of my Schrade Trapper pocket knife. In fact, until the Surgeon General warned me, I was unaware that "THIS PRODUCT HAS BEEN SHOWN TO CAUSE MOUTH CANCER". Now, there's my taxpayer buck hard at work for me. Currently they're hard at work telling me that Little Johnny smokes because he sees the advertising. And all this time I thought Phinneas T. Barnum was dead.
It's not the advertising. It's not the machines, the stolen cigarettes, the cigarettes illegally obtained. It's the children who have been raised with such laxity that smoking is considered the norm. We don't need a law making it illegal for a kid to smoke. We need parents to own up to the fact that they have allowed this to happen and now are reaping the harvests. Our salvation will come when their children are raised differently.
As it stands in 1996, we can see any amount of human depravity on television. We see 15 year old prostitutes and pay them to continue in their trade. We call the police when we notice that somebody broke into the house and stole the VCR ("No big problem. I purchased a new one, in the original box, in the subway for $50 and the insurance company gave me $200 for the loss. Nobody gets hurt and nobody's the wiser."). Praying in school may or may not be legal, but all of our coins and currency state that we trust in God. So we take it out on smokers.
I gave up reading the scientific papers as soon as I found out how they played the game. They start out the desired result, then "massage" the data until it comes up to prove their standard. This was evident in one study where they measured the amount of smoke in a room using a machine that had an error factor of plus or minus fifty percent. I don't know what this fancy machine cost (us taxpayers), but flipping a coin would give similar results. The results of this study were published in 1980 and became the basis for a Public Service Ad, and a particularly obnoxious one at that. They charged me for a scientific study and fed me a line of garbage.
Well, to say that I'm inconvenienced would be an understatement. I passed that about 8 years ago. I'm outraged to the point where I don't believe the government is sensitive to what America is saying. It's supposed to be a government of the people for the people, but has sunken to a government of the special interest groups for the politicians to get rich. Wouldn't it be nice to let our government know who smokers are in one spectacular move?
Let me say right off the bat that I do not condone the following, but merely serve it for your consideration. There's one day in November that the American Cancer Society, the company whose sole interest seems to be raising funds, has its Great American Smoke Out. Wouldn't it be nice to see 45 million smokers let their legislators know they exist by taking a day off. Call your boss and explain that you have a non-specific 24 hour smoker-related disease and will be in the next working day. Spend no money. Read a book, go fishing, whatever, but do not contribute to the American Economy whenever possible. You will really help beef up those government statistics which show smokers as pasty-looking sickly wimps. Imagine the consequences:
First of all, Wall Street would shudder as if it were hit by an earthquake. Most of the people wouldn't be there. Most of them, involved in risking millions of dollars, get a little tense. Most of them probably smoke, so most of the traders aren't there. Then, there's no smoker who's making a deal, having abstained from spending money on that one day, so it would be eerie to say the least. Most mail wouldn't be delivered, because I suspect that most mail workers are, deep down inside, disgruntled. We'll probably get some law forbidding disgruntled mail workers from buying assault style weapons out of this. No phone would go unanswered in this era of electronic voice messaging; there's no human operators left already.
Half of the work force wouldn't report to work on this day. The people who service the normal pool of workers would do half as much business on that day. Bars would be deserted, and no taxes would be collected by those establishments for just one day. Tax money seems to be a direct pipeline to an elected official's ear, and I suspect there would be something to say as they waffle this way and that.
The bottom line is America needs a one day Smokers' Day Off. It would show unity, scope of action, depth of our pockets, and willingness to make things right.
The Smoker General of the United States
It's really a shame you can't see me. I'm all dressed up in my uniform-of-the-day. Today I've decided to be an Officer of the Army. Much as the Surgeon General, I can wear any costume I want. Today it's the brown of the Army.
See all those pretty ribbons on my chest? I get to put them there because I'm The Smoker General of the United States. Their meaning is for me to decipher, not you. They match my socks.
In my present position as The Smoker General of the United States, I have a lot to do. First of all, I have to enjoy a cigarette, a tough duty to draw these days. It's tough to find a place to smoke, and even tougher to enjoy it when you find that place. I really don't enjoy leaving the restaurant to go out in the rain for a smoke.
The Smoker General of the United States has something to say about the situation.
Letter to Fort Collins Colorado
October 11, 2003
Dear Fort of Collins:
No reply to this letter is necessary.
Yesterday, I went to my local market area to purchase a couple of tires for my automobile. I had an hour to wait for this process, and decided to go to a bar.
For the first time in my life, I got asked to leave the bar. Eight-sixed, thrown out, call it what you might. I was told to go elsewhere.
I was a bit miffed at this, perhaps because I don't get too rowdy from drinking alcoholic beverages. I had come to the understanding that alcoholic beverages and driving don't make for a good mix, so I don't drink when I'm thirty miles away from my home. In fact, I haven't partaken in an alcoholic beverage during this millennium. But still, I was asked to stop spending money and leave.
I found out which act of social etiquette I had breached. I was in the act of enjoying a cigarette. You know, rolled up leaves wrapped in paper that cost about a quarter apiece. Most of this money is tax money. I burn ‘em up, that's how much money I have. Yet, I was denied service at a bar because I smoked.
No doubt, the fellows at the bar, all looking into their drinks, thought I was some kind of a nut. Who else would walk into what now appears to be a health resort trying to enjoy a smoke?
With a single stroke of the pen, Hizonner Ray Martinez has banned smoking in the Fort of Collins. That single stroke offended one out of five people who have money to spend. Do you think I want to pay City Taxes? No way. In fact, I just placed an order over the Internet for something I could have purchased at a hobby shop in your town. It's only going to amount to a few dollars not coming into the City Coffers, but it's money you're not going to get. God forbid you should purchase more ink with my tax dollar. You'd write another stupid law with it.
This Larimer County Citizen is upset. Something's wrong when you can't smoke a cigarette in a bar. Prohibition didn't work in the 1900's, and it isn't going to work today. All you're doing is losing money. My money.
This smoker has money to burn. You want it? Lighten up on smokers or no dough. It's that simple. You drew the line in the sand. You don't want smokers' money. I doubt that you will be cutting back on the amount of money you will spend during the fiscal year, so you will probably have to raise taxes. Smart move.
When your money starts to run out, just remember this; Smokers have Money to Burn.
Derf
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This is the letter I sent, along with a copy of the Purchase Order, to Ft. Collins.
October 17, 2003
Dear Fort of Collins:
See, I told you money was leaving your city. To be more to the point, money is being sent to places that are NOT Fort Collins. Why? Because you've upset this customer, that's why.
I enclose a duplicate of my purchase order number 104-D. This order could have been filled within the city limits, and Fort Collins would have realized tax income from this sale. However, because Ray Martinez signed the executive order ostracizing smokers from his city, I don't want to contribute to a hostile environment. I took my fifty dollars and spent it elsewhere.
Now, just so you don't think I'm a cheapskate or anything, please note that I could have purchased my hobby supplies in Fort Collins and saved the $8.13 postage. I'm going to chalk up that amount to educating your city on economics. I can afford it. I'm a smoker, and I've got money to burn. Literally.
Smokers are an economic force to be dealt with. If you don't, then we're going to find other ways. It's an inconvenience to smokers, and it's driving business out of your city.
Oh, one more thing. I've got plenty of paper, and my laser printer is loaded with a fresh can of toner. My postage budget is in the four-figure level, so I can publish hard copy all day and night. Needless to say, the power of the Internet has allowed me to pass this sad story along to fellow smokers around the world. Fort Collins does not accommodate smokers.
Want my business? Accommodate me and my friends.
Derf
Spending Money
It gets tougher and tougher to find a place where smokers are not
discriminated against. To that end, I avoid such places as one would avoid
the Plague Ward of Victorian England. I'm just not spending the money out
there. So, where did it go? I've been asking myself that question for
about ten years now. Today, I found the answer. I purchase a coin once in a while from auctions. Nothing special
mind you, but for ten years I've had the extra money to do it. Today, I
hauled out my hoard and looked up the coin values on the Internet. The
coins are contained in plastic sandwiches and have the quality grade listed
on it. They're tamper-proof. And, today I found out they're worth a helluva
lot of money! I also have a fleet of radio controlled model airplanes and, last
month, purchased a model helicopter kit. It's tougher than juggling three
balls while rolling a log on a fast river, blindfolded. Helicopters ain't
cheap, but it's money that I didn't spend being told to smoke outside. My old 1962 Mini is still chugging around and getting about 50
mpg. It's tough to tell, as the instruments are metric. If that weren't
enough, they're printed in Italian, as this Mini was made in Balogna, under
license, by the Innocenti company. Weighs 900 pounds and has three
ashtrays. I use it instead of the airlines. I can smoke in it. I arrive and
don't feel angry or tense. I don't even feel bad about the airlines losing
me as a steady customer when they banned smoking. You'd think somebody would get the message, but they don't. What
do I feel about the situation? I've never had such a good time or so
many toys, as I have now. Wonder if the airlines, restaurants and retail
stores are getting the message? My name is Derf, and I approved this message. Remember, Vote Early - Vote Often.
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