December 13th, 2010 
judowolf 
At sixteen, I snuck a cigarette from my father’s pack, dashed out of the house, ran behind the garage, lit up, took my first drag, and thought I was going to cough up a lung. Even though this was a traumatic introduction to smoking, I forged ahead, and became a full time smoker, as it was the norm.
I laugh when smoking experts release their studies on second, third, and fourth hand smoke. One ride in my father’s car, crammed with eight people, and three smokers in the winter will introduce the experts to the effects of tenth hand smoke.
My grandfather smoked a pipe, and when he lit up, smoke permeated the car, sitting three inches above our heads. A two-hour trip was an experience, and it is amazing I am still alive.
Society judges me, as an addict who needs help with my horrible addiction. They believe I will die an excruciating death from lung cancer; it is my fault, society will pay the medical costs because I am weak, and cannot break the habit.
Smoking is a stronger addiction than crack cocaine with TV bombarding us with cessation programs, and drugs to help me quit, but the side effects of these drugs are worse than the smoke.
I wanted to be different; never thought smoking would get me there but my cigarette is more lethal than an AK 47.
My lungs are intact and at age, 61 do not have a desire to stop. The experts tell me it is never too late to quit, and the benefits will keep me alive longer.
That is all well and good, but my smoke filled brain reminds me of the good times I enjoyed with a smoke: sipping nice bourbon, the first cup of coffee in the morning, chewing the fat with friends, and after making love with my wife.
Posted in 
I’ve recently started a blog, the information you provide on this site has helped me tremendously. Thank you for all of your time & work.