I discovered it this morning while checking my horoscope (which, by the way, has been uncannily dead on the mark as of the late) via this article in the Toronto Star, and am somewhat conflicted where it's concerned.
I totally, totally get the appeal, and am in fact even considering purchasing one for my mums and step dad; it's quite safe to say that I love them and would rather not have to see them with a trachea tube or whatever that thing's called that I remember turned me off television in a massive way when I was nine after seeing it in those terrifying Health Canada commercials.
Conversely, must the 21st century take the fun out absolutely everything? According to SmokeStik's distributors "it's like smoking with a condom on." Sounds really fucking attractive, no? A dude with a SmokeStik in a bar is certainly no James Dean, and I still want to find my James Dean goddammit. My point against the robot cigarette is pretty convoluted and most likely really, truly, severely misguided, but since all of two people read this blog and I know that they'll at least partially understand where I'm coming from, it is as follows:
I don't know whether or not ya'll have given our inevitable mortality any thought recently, but if I may, let me jog your memory using the grade-school 'hamburger essay' scheme...
1. Introduction: WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE ONE DAY.
2. Narration: Lots and lots and lots of people are smokers.
3. Affirmation: I enjoy smoking. Really, I do.
4. Negation: Secondhand smoke may or may not be harmful. No one knows for sure, regardless of what the crazy anti-smoking fascists might tell you. They do not actually know. Also: it's like smoking with a condom on. Need I say more?
5. Conclusion: We are still all going to die one day. I'm all about give and take...I'll gladly go to two hours of yoga and have a salad full of all of that Omega-3 and Vitamins A-through-Z bullshit, only to proceed to drink a half bottle of wine and chain-smoke throughout the rest of the evening. I enjoy both activities, and don't necessarily think that one cancels out the other. I do, however, think that I was put on this planet for a number of reasons, one of which is to enjoy myself.
Then again, I'm probably going to die all wrinkled and trachea-tubed when I'm, like, 30, so it's likely best to not take my advice.
n.b. I just read this back and realized I make virtually no sense whatsoever. Yeah, I'm an asshole, and one that will probably jump on the stupid robot cigarette bandwagon along with everyone else once this country's government allows it. Not for the death thing so much as the wrinkles...I admit it, I live in constant fear of the day I wake up to my first wrinkle.