Letter to RJ Reynolds

The nanny state struck again in Maryland recently, this time making it illegal to smoke--get this--in bars.

It was only a matter of time. What Republicans are to our Constitution (essentially what bad cholesterol is to an artery), Democrats are to reasoned personal choice. If I were more cynical, I would say that the two sides are in fact working together to create a society of automatons, people who blithely stumble brainlessly through their days, being told what they can and cannot put in their bodies and being relentlessly videotaped lest they fuck up.

At any rate, this most recent offense by the great State of Maryland occasioned the following letter of sympathy and hope and marketing to the RJ Reynolds Tobacco Company:

Dear RJ Reynolds:
RE: Forthcoming Maryland Smoking Ban

Now that the great state of Maryland has spoken, to the excited clamor of addle-brained do-gooders slapping themselves on the back—and, no doubt, a few nods, winks and nudges down to the State House—for subverting the democratic process, you must be very sad.

I fully understand your feelings.

I myself am an ex-lush who likes to hang out in a bar. My days are no doubt numbered. Before too long one of those idiots who fomented the smoking ban will get bored with the banal details of, say, raising his or her own family and decide that there should be a law barring ex-alcoholics from drinking establishments, lest they "slip," and start making late-night phone calls to ex-girlfriends (I loved you so much baby, why'd you hurt me so bad?), listening to country music and getting really into the stuff that's sold on TV at 3:30 in the freaking morning. Seriously, I was in rehab with a guy who bought shitloads of the stuff, running up ginormous Visa bills on things like some electronic putter (really) that, once he sobered up, was actually still pretty damn cool. Plus he had this amazing blender thing, the Bass-O-Matic? You wouldn’t believe how good….

But that's not what I wanted to tell you.

You have been dealt a bad hand. From the bottom of the deck. By a guy whose skill set includes mayoring—and badly—the "City that Reds Readz Reeds Redded Likes Boks." Don't get me wrong, his predecessor would've done the same to you, so you were screwed either way. But to get slapped down by a guy who looks like he just crawled off a Lucky Charms box? That just sucks.

I have an idea for turning that arrogant slap in the face into a duel I think you can win. Accept that challenge and throw down your own gauntlet.

The hell with suspense: "Smoking Area" unfiltered cigarettes.

Seriously. You don't even have to retool--just repackage the Pall Mall brand (how many of those are ya sellin', huh? Wasn't Vonnegut like the last guy on the planet who owned up to smoking PMs?). I see a package showing an ordinary guy and an ordinary girl standing outside a restaurant. They're puffing on "Smoking Area" cigarettes like there's no tomorrow. The caption reads, "When Every Drag HAS to Count!" Or maybe a couple of transvestites...hell, I dunno. The point is that you can increase sales of your unfiltered products just by using a little creativity. Plus (there's really no downside to this), you can even play the same game that Exxon-Mobil, for example, plays, and charge whatever the hell usurious amount you want for the things.

Hell, I'd buy 'em. At least until the State of Maryland decides I can't go to a bar anymore. You know, for my own gud good.