Remember back in the olden days when a fella was executed by firing squad? It was often customary for the officer conducting the execution to give the condemned prisoner a last drag of a cigarette. It was an oddly humane final act of compassion before the blindfolded prisoner was shot.
This is why I, despite not being a smoker myself, carry a pack of cigarettes with me when I'm downtown or riding the bus. In my city, those are two places where many homeless and impoverished people congregate. And nine days out of ten, somebody will ask me if they can bum a smoke. I always felt bad that I had none to give - they always seem so hopeful that someone has a cigarette. I'm sure you've been in this situation too. It's strange - instead of asking for a sandwich, it's almost always a cigarette. I believe it's because the underprivileged have a sense of their doom. They know they're dying, with no help from you and me (taking pictures of them for social media "statements" about class division doesn't count, unless you then sold your camera to buy a meal or a jacket for the unwitting subject of your art).
So, since you and I conduct this firing squad, this execution by apathy and lip-service, it's among the least we can do to keep a pack of smokes when we're in the more disadvantaged areas of our cities. Where they're not concerned with the repeal of the net neutrality because they can't afford their medication, where there's no "white privilege" because it's been eaten to stay alive, where the ramblings and shoutings of the unshowered aren't covered by our cushy mental health awareness hashtags.
I carry Pall Malls myself (menthols usually). I've noticed Newports are another popular brand among the bus station regulars. It's a good idea to carry a lighter or a pack of matches, too. And while you're at it, maybe packs of peanut butter cheese crackers. Or even a twenty so you and this stranger can have lunch - last meals are customary before executions, too.
This is why I, despite not being a smoker myself, carry a pack of cigarettes with me when I'm downtown or riding the bus. In my city, those are two places where many homeless and impoverished people congregate. And nine days out of ten, somebody will ask me if they can bum a smoke. I always felt bad that I had none to give - they always seem so hopeful that someone has a cigarette. I'm sure you've been in this situation too. It's strange - instead of asking for a sandwich, it's almost always a cigarette. I believe it's because the underprivileged have a sense of their doom. They know they're dying, with no help from you and me (taking pictures of them for social media "statements" about class division doesn't count, unless you then sold your camera to buy a meal or a jacket for the unwitting subject of your art).
So, since you and I conduct this firing squad, this execution by apathy and lip-service, it's among the least we can do to keep a pack of smokes when we're in the more disadvantaged areas of our cities. Where they're not concerned with the repeal of the net neutrality because they can't afford their medication, where there's no "white privilege" because it's been eaten to stay alive, where the ramblings and shoutings of the unshowered aren't covered by our cushy mental health awareness hashtags.
I carry Pall Malls myself (menthols usually). I've noticed Newports are another popular brand among the bus station regulars. It's a good idea to carry a lighter or a pack of matches, too. And while you're at it, maybe packs of peanut butter cheese crackers. Or even a twenty so you and this stranger can have lunch - last meals are customary before executions, too.