Smoking - an addiction for people and politicians

My mother quit smoking on New Years Day 1991, and she does not miss the habit. Back in 1991, there weren't as many finger-waggers telling her all of those lovely chemicals she's putting into her body, and a pack of cigarettes cost about $2 a pack. Today, thanks to an excise tax of $1.51 per pack of cigs, the cheapest you can get a pack of cigs is $3.50, with the name brands clocking in at least $5.00. In New York State, a pack of cigarettes goes for at least $6 - and in New York City, you can't even get an ultra-cheap (as in no-name, you've got to be desperate) pack of cancer stix for less than $8.

When I went to Mohegan Sun for my birthday last year, I would have expected cigarettes to be much cheaper. Boy, was I wrong: a pack of Marlboros went for the princely sum of $9.65 per pack. (I have no clue how much the cheapos were, but a sawbuck? They were also selling bars of soap with real money for $13.95 - and of course, stupid me bought one. I did, however, use that dollar inside the bar of soap to play the daily numbers and ended up winning $721.)

In some of the New York State Indian reservations, however, you can still get name-brands for more than half the price. Why? The Indians kinda sorta don't put tax stamps on the packages.

This means the bridge & tunnel folks from Queens and Brooklyn (and their Manhattanite friends) who don't want to venture into their corner bodega can take a quick trip to the Hamptons for a family "visit" and stop by the Shinnecock Indian rez for a carton of Newports at $50. If their corner bodega is selling them for $8.50 a pack, that's $170 a carton there versus $50 (and $2.50 a pack) at the rez, meaning a savings of $120 per carton. No wonder the Indians in New York State like business the way it is, and the wholesalers are a bit miffed.

And believe the wholesalers with a fisheye when they say the cheap cigs are funding terrorism. Wholesalers who deliver to stores get a commission on all the sales they make, no matter what the price. So, when they go into the convenience store and set up their displays, it's not to make sure the lady in a bikini is not showing too much bodacious ta-ta; it's because that bodacious ta-ta is the difference between a stale pack that doesn't get sold and several hundred orders, perhaps with the bodacious ta-ta exposed. The wholesalers are blowing as much smoke to deceive the public; if the black market were as thriving as the wholesalers would have you believe, then New York City would have returned to the glorious cesspool of iniquity it once was. It hasn't, and it looks like the wholesalers are ticked that Indian tobacco sellers are cutting into their commissions and profits.

It doesn't mean I approve of smoking. I don't smoke myself, and I personally don't care if you light up, and I will not stop you if you're puffing away (if you ask nicely, all the fuss you'll get is a friendly hand wave and a "g'right ahead.").

Imagine, though, if cigarettes were ultimately banned. Everyone stopped smoking, no one got dirty looks when you lit up, and you didn't smell like an ashtray.

The politicians would have a hell of a time getting over their addiction - to smoker's money.

Here in Massachusetts, the excise tax for a carton is $1.51 x 20 = $30.20. $30.20 is not chump change, and a million cartons not being lit up means $30.2 million denied to the Commonwealth's coffers. Hence, you will see increasing and more constrictive rules on smoking, but you will never, ever see a complete ban, because once the commonwealth or any other state bans smoking completely, they lose hundreds of millions of dollars in easy, regressive tax revenue. The nanny state is not bold or ballsy enough to do a total ban, so they must do their deeds in passive-aggressive steps.

If there's anyone who really must get an intervention, it's the governments who use their insecurities and moralities to control people. Smoking is that perfect example: if smoking were banned, the states would require cases of Nicorette Tax patches.

I'm an uncle again...

8 lbs, 5 oz (3770g), 20 inches (508mm), Riley Blake Colby. I already have a niece named Hollace; I call her God's Ultimate Trade: the girl that my mother always wanted, but to get her, we had to give up our father to lung cancer.

Somewhere along the line, God has to balance pain and suffering with hope and joy.

Free Orange Julius or Cinnabon with each guilty verdict

If you're in the mall looking for random parts in Radio Shack, looking to complement your wardrobe in WalMart, looking for that kicky shredded denim skirt/off the shoulder T-shirt/footless tights/ballerina flats combo in Forever 21, or are just mall rats over the age of 18 with a clean record, the sheriff of Caledonia County in Vermont would like you to exercise your civil duty as a juror.

The bus is waiting to take you to the courthouse. Don't worry - by the time you've put the Level 3 Child Molester in jail, your iced chai latte will still be there...along with a fresh, warm Cinnabon roll!

A little bit of old-school street sign influence...

The new site header is up. You might see these white signs still up in certain areas; here are some examples:

- Beacon St at the Brookline line at St. Mary's St (it still says "Boston LINE" on the top)
- Brookline Avenue at the Brookline line (ditto)
- Baker St at the Newton/Boston line
- Grove St at Dedham line (at Bussey St)
- Temple and Baker St

These white signs first appeared around the mid-60s to the late 1960s. They were taken down when the new green signs - some reflective, others not - arrived in the early 1970s.

Sign made with OpenOffice 2.3 Draw.