Dear Marketing People

Dude, seriously, I don't smoke. You don't have to convince me to stop. Please take those fucking ads off the air because I want to kill myself every time they're on.

Thursday Classic Video: Open Bar as a Young Child

The Daily News picked up this story out of Sumatra. Another link to the story here. As a new parent, this is actually encouraging, because it is now officially impossible for me to be the worst dad of all time. Or maybe this was just one of those things where dad finds son smoking, makes son smoke entire pack to teach him a lesson, and it totally backfires. I don't know.

Hey Open Bar . . . jealous much?

Said the proud papa of terrible two-year old tobacco toker Ardi Rizal: "He looks pretty healthy to me. I don't see the problem."

Amen.

After publishing this I realized it would make a great installment in our Real Men of Genius series, so here goes:

Sung: real men of genius.

Spoken: we salute you, Mr. letting-your-toddler-smoke-two-packs-a-day, guy. When you heard that adults who smoke two packs a day can die of cancer in their 50s and even their 40s, you had the courage to ask why your son should have to wait that long.

Sung: can I bum a smoke, dad?

Spoken: you understand that when your kids want to start smoking cigarettes, there's just no way to stop them. Even if they're two.

Sung: (inaudible, then coughing)

Spoken: and so here's to you, oh professor of parenting prowess and perpetual puffing: your wife, the government, international media outlets, and the most basic notions of common sense may say your wrong, but -- cough -- you said "fuck 'em, son, let's have another."

Sung: Mr. letting-your-toddler-smoke-two-packs-a-day, guy

Adios, sweet Marlboro Lights, may flights of Bloombergs sing thee to thy rest

Tonight, Fat Tuesday, I will enjoy my last night of intimacy with my longtime companion.

European cigarette packs are subtle.

I've agreed (along with a friend) to give up cigarettes for Lent. So that's 40 days until Easter, when technically I'll be "allowed" to smoke again. Thing is, I can't really see myself returning to the sweet tobacco product if I can make it that long.

I've wanted to quit for some time now, so this seems like as good a plan as any. I have no idea what my willpower will be like, whether I'll hold up a day, or two, or a week, or maybe even make it all the way. I may find the physical withdrawal too difficult. Maybe the best move for me would be to taper, as opposed to cold turkey. I suppose we'll see.

I've actually cut down quite a bit these last few years, from a clear pack-a-day habit to now only about 3 or so a week. I pretty much don't smoke at all anymore unless I'm drinking, which, unfortunately I do a little too often.

I look forward to an overall healthier lifestyle. After 11 years of inhaling tobacco regularly, obviously there will be lingering effects (if not worse), but I figure the best step forward there would be to quit smoking, right? So there's that. Plus I'm starting to get back into shape. (Anyone else ever tried this 100 Pushups thing? I'm two weeks in, and it feels great so far, though I still can't see how I'll be able to do 100 straight in such a short time period. We shall see.)

I won't smell like ass when I come home at night; neither will my bedroom or living room or half my wardrobe. So that's good too. I can start to reverse the yellowing process of my teeth, which will inevitably lead to my bedding Blake Lively, which is nice. Also, it'll be nice not hacking up a ton of blackish/greenish/brownish phlegm after particularly heavy-smoking nights.

Oh, and the money too. At about $10 per pack, cigs eat into one's paycheck. Pretty soon I'll be able to afford that 5th Avenue apartment I've always wanted.

All in all, that sounds pretty good.

But then there's the scary part. I really have no idea how well I'll be able to handle the inevitable cravings. Smoking has become wholly entwined in at least two major areas of my life: drinking and writing. I'm probably even more intimidated by the prospect of writing without chain-smoking. Writing is something I do alone, with no one to support me when all I'll be able to think about is how bad I want to light up. Whereas with drinking, I can at least bitch and moan to someone about what a silly decision I made and how it would be so easy to have one, just one little cig.

Any advice from any former smokers is welcome, though I get the feeling that quitting is a process unique to each individual.

So if you're interested, I'll be living up Fat Tuesday tonight by watching Lost and chain smoking myself into a hacking, wheezing mess.

But hopefully for the last time.