Everything that goes up must come down. But there comes a time when not everything that’s down can come up… for that we’ve got Viagra. Which proves some laws are not made by nature – but by man. So why doesn’t the price of coffee and cigars ever come down?…

Hmm…

Last Sunday I made a discovery:

That the price of coffee has nothing to do with the laws of physics. And neither does the price of a cigar – premium or not.

That doesn’t make me a genius. However, I am thankful that geniuses and other good people — no matter how hard it is — will eventually be recognized. And I am doubly thankful that also goes for idiots.

Because when I regularly stroll into the same ‘Starbutts’ in center city Philadelphia just past noon to buy Sunday coffees for the good people who give me a ride from church, I sometimes end up in a bit of a tiff. Usually with some young face of a Mother Teresa behind the counter.

Over a penny.

A penny…

For the past two years the price of two large ‘Bold’ coffees has been $4.86. And each week when I hand over a $10 or $20 bill the pious moron wants to include 4 pennies in the change. And each week I have to explain between squeezed lips that if you give me pennies instead of a nickel: I will eat your dog and sell your future progeny into sex slavery!

Obviously I don’t want no pennies for my thoughts. And with my tart verbal tort having pierced through their mental scrap yard, they suddenly manage to  always ‘locate’ a stray penny that isn’t overly regulated by the computerized registry of overpriced coffees.

Ahhh… another successful motivational speech.

This past Sunday, however, I was charged $5.07.

Say wot?!

‘When did your prices go up – over 4 percent?!’ I asked very out loud. Obviously I’ve got a head for figures – even ones that don’t come in a size-4 strapless.

And behind the Mother Teresa this wispy voice of a frail wanna-be Julia Childs explained that ‘we regularly raise our prices.’

‘We? What you mean: We?! Pale face! ‘MY’ pay didn’t go up no 4 percent!’

I would have offered to spank him (yes, him) white and blue, but he seemed the type that just might like it.

So I handed him a $5 bill. And told him to tell his boss that I am about to rip his toe nails out with my teeth!

At that he found the nickel and two pennies in the ‘tip’ jar – a gratuity I’ve rarely understood for over-duh-counter delivery service. I mean do you tip the dutiful UPS guy? Or the girl limply handing you a MacDonalds bag of fries? Or how about the helpful counter man at Pep Boys?

Hmm….

It’s not only the overpriced cost of ‘stuff’ these days that makes me wanna buy a grenade launcher, it’s the pennies and dimes that keep nickeling me into apoplexy.

Such as after I waved my church ride goodbye and strolled a few steps to a cigar emporium. And there — with the grit on my kind-of-white teeth still set for spark — I was told that one of my favorite cigars just went up another 35-cents. Or over 5%!

Oy-vey-iz-mir!… Shoot a million poisoned-tipped arrows into their burning bodies! Obviously what this country needs is a good 5-cent cigar!

But of course!

At the same time the headline in the Sunday paper laying on the counter there was broadcasting that a bill, awaiting the guv’s signature, is about to declare a smoking ban on ALL New Jersey beaches.

Say wot-duh-heck. Cancel all oxygen rations!

My thoughts at that moment were more than a tad counterintuitive – particularly to what the pastor had just been sermonizing an hour back. Oh, lordy-lordy-lordy… lead me from the temptation to smite yet another bunch of idiots!

What we have here is a fail-ure to co-mmu-ni-cate.

I mean, after all, Atlantic City just anointed a Gay/LBGT beach. Soon we’ll be allowed to smoke marijuana and her sisters most everywhere – just like gambling. And Atlantic City is struggling as it is. So what is it about my cigar – which keeps my trigger finger calm – that is determined to be so troublesome on the windy beach?

To be blunt: Why is the government hounding me as if I am a domestic terrorist? If you wanna turn me into a real terrorist keep taxing my psychiatric cigars to ashes.

The fact is self-righteousness has killed more people than smoking – especially when you lump cigarette smoking in with much less intrusive puffing on pipes, cigars and e-cigarettes. In case you haven’t noticed, the FDA has done little to calibrate the comparative risks of different tobacco products. So, no wonder I have found that smoking is the leading cause of statistics.

In truth, I don’t want to quit puffing cigars. And I have no such whiff of any intention. Isn’t that why I got divorced… each and every time?

Hmm…

And, I am convinced that if I did quit cigars, the world would sink further into hell – especially Central America. AND Cuba. I mean, what else do they have? Think about hundreds of thousands of unemployed cigar-rollers poring through our porous borders. In fact, don’t countries that make cigars seem more at peace, than say… North Korea? Iraq? Syria?…

Hmm…

Honestly, I am somewhat discomfited by cigarettes. But let’s quit being a bunch of pusillanimous hypocrites: This country desperately relies on those billions of dollars in taxes it way overcharges on tobacco. And if I were a cigarette smoker perhaps I would organize all my fellow consumers to start rolling their own. Show the sanctimonious government twits that if they want your money, you want your liberty!

They wanna be gruff; you wanna puff.

Hell, you ARE paying for it.

And paying… and paying… and paying…

And for us cigar smokers, we too have to get our long-leafs rolled together. The government is fraught with a bunch of puritans opposed to any luxury and sensual enjoyment. They really are afraid that someone somewhere is having a good time.

Think about it. Anything that has a relationship with pleasure, they reject. Eating, they talk about cholesterol; making love, they talk about AIDS; you talk about smoking, they talk about cancer. It’s a very sick society that rejects pleasure.

Hmm… Perhaps that’s because pleasure always costs twice as much.

I’ve said it before: Cigars are one of my vital activities that keep me from killing assholes. Otherwise my tempestuous trigger finger goes spastic. And I’m not going to spend $200 an hour for therapy when I can smoke it for less than $10.

To all my fellow cigar illusionists out there, lend me your ear: It’s one thing to get mad as hell; but quite another not to take it anymore! And my love-hate relationship with a country that gave much of the world tobacco is becoming somewhat tenuous – particularly with duh folks demonizing one of the few pleasures us common folks can still afford.

It’s sort of like puffing on an exploding cigar, isn’t it?… Or whatever that means.

Anyway, let me say it again; Cigars ain’t duh problem, especially when you smoke in moderation – that is, only one cigar at a time.

I am not the enemy. Yet the harassment has soared, far surpassing the funny bone. We pay more to get less and less in this country. The puritans and the rest of the Boyscouts want us to live longer. But not to have a life.

Hmm…

I don’t smoke grass. I exercise too much. I drink too little. And I never smoke a stogie when I am asleep. All I really need for a little happiness is a good cigar, a good cup of coffee and a good woman… or a bad woman; it all depends on how much happiness I can handle.

Now, does that make me a bad guy?

And dats yDrewIS on dis penal colony…

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