We discussed Electronic Cigarettes over at the Perpetual Post this week. Come on by!
Smoking is bad, smoking is gross, smoking kills. We’ve had those words drummed into us so often that they’ve almost lost all meaning. Anti-smoking campaigns abound—they’re smart, edgy, profound. The statistics they provide are sobering—increased heart disease, cancer, stroke. But getting people to stop smoking has been a long and difficult path—and part of the reason is because it’s become so deeply ingrained in our culture. Smokers take breaks together, share lighters, bum cigarettes. There’s also no denying that smoking, as stinky and unappealing as it is for nonsmokers, looks so damn COOL! If only it were a little more awkward; if only it weren’t associated in movies and on TV with cowboys, rock stars, rebels, and sophisticates. I am vehemently anti-smoking, but even I have to admit that pictures of James Dean with a cigarette dangling from his lips are striking and sexy in part because of the wreath of smoke curled around his face.
People who want to quit smoking have many aides to choose from—nicotine patches, gum, hypnosis, therapy. But none of those actually work as actual surrogate cigarettes—until now. Now we have the newfangled ‘Electronic Cigarette’—a cigarette-like device which allows users to mimic the act of smoking.
But this device’s day has not yet come. It has yet to catch on, even with smokers who are trying desperately to quit. This might be in part because the concept is so ridiculous. How could an electronic device ever replace the heady, organic pleasure found in the glowing embers of actual burning paper and tobacco? Whatever false sensation the electronic cigarette offers, how can it possibly compare to the act of actual smoking?
Well, it can’t. But at least it’s something—maybe even a step in the right direction. New anti-smoking ads tout the benefits of training yourself to learn how to do every day activities without a cigarette in your hand, so the act of holding a cigarette is clearly an integral part of the whole experience. Perhaps this beta version of the electronic cigarette is just an early prototype, but unless it catches on, it will be the only version there is.
So, how to make it catch on? Well, it needs to become cool. This seems like a tall order, but look at pegged jeans, look at soul patches; look at the Snuggie. We regularly embrace all sorts of ridiculous fads and trends if enough of the right people are seen supporting them. So it’s time for rock stars, rappers, porn stars, actors, politicians—very public smokers who lead very public lives—to embrace the electronic cigarette. It needs to become a badge of honor—after all, quitting smoking is hard, and if you’re seen publicly struggling to quit; looking all broody and angsty with your glass of whiskey and your electronic cigarette clenched between your teeth, you’re sure to earn some sympathy points.
The second part is, it has to stop trying to look like an actual cigarette. Electronic cigarette, you are so clearly not actually burning. You are not a real cigarette. Stop trying to be unobtrusive and realistic looking. Let’s add some color to those things and make them bold! Give them psychedelic patterns; make them hot pink, day-glo orange; make them shiny silver and gold. If the electronic cigarette stops trying to be a real cigarette and becomes its own entity, it’ll be a step closer to gaining acceptance and favor. Nobody wants to look like they’re trying to look like a smoker—let them instead look like they’re trying NOT to be a smoker. Electronic cigarette, be proud of what you are. After all, your little electric heart is in the right place.
Howard, Akie and I discussed the EZ Pass System in Thursday’s Perpetual Post. Find the other angry sides of the impassioned debate here.
Those who stand by EZ Pass will defend it to the death, and I appreciate their ardor; but they’re wrong. Just so they know that. I am a fierce opponent of this destructive, elitist system. I won’t stand for any kind of toll booth that won’t accept money. If you’ve ever squinted into the darkness while hurtling toward a toll plaza and searching desperately for that little green arrow above a booth which means that it takes actual currency, well then you feel my pain.
EZ Pass ownership is the worst kind of snobby supper club. Sure, anyone can become a member, but in order for it to be worthwhile you have to have an actual need to pass, in an EZ fashion, through certain tolls in a very specific geographical location in the Northeast.
Now if they wanted to make EZ Pass a nationally accepted method of toll payment; if buying into the EZ Pass system virtually guaranteed that in your travels, you would have an occasion to use it, it would make a lot of sense. After all, it would result in the simplification of an otherwise convoluted and inconvenient toll system—doing for American transport what the Euro did for European commerce. Instead it’s more like Disney Dollars. As a former New Yorker who now lives in North Carolina, I find myself paying tolls in New Jersey and New York when I visit family approximately every six months or so. Is it worthwhile to convert my currency into EZ Pass to ensure a quicker trip during those two times (which are usually during the heavy-traffic holidays anyway)? Not likely. Given the choice between purchasing EZ Pass points (or whatever they’re called) and having Money, I’ll choose Money any day. Because with money, I can buy other things. Virtually anything in the world that money can buy—including, remarkably, passage through a tollbooth in New Jersey.
That leads to my main issue with the whole concept behind EZ Pass. At a certain point in our history, currency became standardized to give us the ability to purchase goods and services in an easily measured way. It worked out well—apparently until now. EZ Pass represents a branching out into a specific type of currency for a specific type of service, which goes against the whole point of having uniform currency to begin with. Why can’t tolls just accept money? And if they’ll accept either money or EZ Pass, then where does it end? Why can’t I pay my toll with an old sweater or a bag of chips? I always have those in my car! Who decides what kind of payment a toll can accept, anyway? It is a slippery slope. There is nothing EZ about it.
I do understand that it’s inconvenient for tolls to take cash only, since in our modern society most people pay for things with plastic and don’t tend to carry much cash around. But instead of creating an alternate form of currency, why not simply make it possible for tolls to accept credit or debit cards? There are already gas stations where you can simply wave your debit card in front of a reader to pay for a Big Gulp. Why not extend the courtesy to toll-paying? What are we waiting for?! The future is now!
Lastly, those who love EZ Pass adore complaining about those who don’t understand how to use it. “Why do they slow down and stop in confusion?” EZ Passers howl indignantly. “Why do they scratch their heads stupidly and back out of toll booths while everyone honks at them?” Why indeed. I’ll tell you why: Because EZ Pass is too complicated for us. It’s the scourge of the common man. EZ Pass, while perfectly EZ for smart people to operate, is beyond the majority of the population. And yes, we’re the ones gumming up the works by switching lanes nine times as we approach a toll plaza and losing our tickets and injuring ourselves on our own side-view mirrors. But that is the point, and that is what you EZtists don’t understand: Each time one of us drops a handful of pennies on the ground while trying to toss them into a toll basket, we are taking a stand against you. We are fighting the good fight to make sure that your fancy technology doesn’t get the best of us and give you the upper hand. Enjoy your EZ Passing while you can, you hoity-toity top-hat-wearing monopoly-man lookalikes driving with a cup of tea in one hand and a diamond-tipped cane between your knees. The revolution is coming. And it’s going to involve a whole lot of waiting in line.
So after working my way up gradually to running 8 miles or so without too much fatigue, I went home for the holidays and ate turkey and rugelah and drank Wassail until I couldn’t feel my face anymore. Granted, it was an excellent week. But now I’m having a hell of a time getting back into the game.
Today on the treadmill I thought I was going to pass out at mile 2. I made it to 8 miles but only after some serious self-bargaining. I hate to bargain. I ran 6 miles at more or less my normal pace, and then did the last 2 at a slightly slower pace. And I feel like face-planting into a bowl of buttered egg-noodles. Just because that might feel nice.
I’m starting to realize that I may have lost some ground here, which Brian confirmed. “Sometimes when you stop exercising for a little while and then get back into it, it’s harder to get back where you were than it was to get there the first time,” he said. I wish I’d realized that while I was double-fisting eggnog and pumpkin tartlets. But I guess sometimes you have to live and learn. At least the living part was delicious.
I am aware that I appear to have jumped on the Julia Child bandwagon here, but yesterday on a spur of the moment decision, I decided to cook boeuf bourguignon following her recipe.
It was a 4-5 hour endeavor. Granted, 2 1/2 hours of that time was spent keeping an eye on a simmering casserole in the oven, and about 1 hour of that time was spent crouched over, reading and re-reading the recipe as though I were deciphering the Dead Sea Scrolls. But still. It was a long project. I probably should have begun it earlier than 5pm, but in my initial shopping trip, I forgot to buy bacon, and I knew that turkey bacon would be an insult to this recipe, so I had to venture back out to the supermarket at the last minute.
The last time I attempted boeuf bourguignon, it was with a dear friend of mine, at the tender age of 12. We had decided that we would prepare it for her grandmother. I don’t remember much from that escapade, although my friend has since reminded me that we skipped about 1/3 of the steps in Julia’s recipe. Now that I’ve done it again, on my own, I can see a bit more of the whole picture, rather than the daunting step-by-step process. Sort of like climbing Mt. Everest– once you’ve done it, you have an overview of the process in its entirety, rather than the dull, plodding one-foot-in-front-of-the-other bits and pieces that you saw on the way up and down. Not that making boeuf bourguignon is like climbing Everest, but it could be.
I can also see the steps that I might gloss over, the next time I attempt it. Boiling the bacon before frying it, for one thing, seems unnecessary (although it made the house smell cheerfully, and oddly, like boiled bacon). Next time I might add some chopped celery, and coat the beef with a little more flour before adding the wine, to further thicken the sauce. (I enjoyed learning that “3 cups of wine” is an oblique way of saying, “1 bottle of wine”.)
Overall, though, I enjoyed the experience. It was fun to undertake a large cooking endeavor on a cold, dreary winter day. And the end result was boeuf-licious.
I Heard Tell 