A paean to smoking
What a great post over at Murder of Ravens:
Whenever I fill my pipe – perhaps a Sasieni made back in the 1920’s out of briar that was 100 years old back then–with a fine matured Virginia, sit back, light up, see the ember glowing in the bowl, and taste the exquisite flavor, my mind and soul find peace. There really is nothing to compare to the taste of the Virginia, the feel of the warm briar in my hand, and the visual beauty of the finely grained wood. They all combine into one of the most satisfying sensory experiences known to man.
(Via Nuke Gingrich.)
What a pity it invariably leads to death through emphysema, lung cancer, or some other horrible, painful, debilitating disease.
Life has a habit of leading to death, often in all sorts of unpleasant ways. You can eat celery all your life, and you’ll still die. The only difference is you’ll only have eaten celery.
Not true. Remember, my post was strictly about pipe and cigar smoking, not about cigarettes. Statistically, pipe and cigar smokers have only a slightly higher mortality rate than non-smokers. I grant you, cigarettes are another matter, but as I said, I wasn’t writing about cigarettes.
-smith