Journal of a Working Boy #3: Let Freedom Ring!

In my office there is a large recycle bin next to the fax machine. When a fax comes across the wire, we stamp the date on it and bring it the Boss Man and he then forwards it to the appropriate parties (it took me a year to find out this was part of my job).

Now, many of you may not be aware of this but Chicago is currently involved in a heated debate about smoking in public places and private business. The anti-smoking lobby is attempting to blackmail the City into placing a smoking ban on all private businesses (save, of course, rich elitist clubs and tobacco shops) and even require that smoking take place at least 25 feet from any public building (how one intends to enforce such a law is beyond me). Of course, this anti-smoking lobby uses such sound and profound logic as "If New York has a smoking ban, it's absurd for Chicago not to.” I for one know Chicago is always quick to do whatever it can to be like New York.

Yesterday around 2 o'clock I undid my tie, loosened my belt and bought a bag of spicy Cheatos and a coke. I was sitting at my computer trying to get past the porn blocking software, when for some unknown reason I decided to take a walk. I licked my fingers clean, slammed the rest of my soft drink and set off into the world of cubicles. During my mid-afternoon constitutional, I happened to walk by the fax machine and I noticed about 300 pages of recently faxed information (it was still warm). Letting out a large grunt at this impending workload, I waddled over to the machine and began thumbing through the information. It was all one fax.

Not only was it one fax it was a fax of probably 500 or so letters from people saying they supported the smoking ban.

I am a smoker. There I've said it. Not only am I a smoker, I am also a passionate supporter of freedom. In this moment, I saw the loss of freedom flash before my eyes.

The Freedom! For a long drag on that first cigarette from a pack after talking well into the night about the state of Evangelical culture.

The Freedom! For the Saturday “I just got up and am hungover" cigarette at the local coffee shop on 18th and Blue Island.

The Freedom! To blow smoke into an doof asses face when he goes off on world travel.

The Freedom! To constantly carry mints around when I'm with my family.

The Freedom! To have to buy cigarettes on my lunch break because if I don't have a cigarette after work I'm crabby the rest of the day.

All these freedoms and more flashed before my eyes and I don't like the loss of freedom, not one bit. So I did what any freedom-loving patriot would do. I destroyed the documents before anyone else saw them.

Letting out a series of triumphant yells, I threw handful after handful into the recycle bin! Oppression be damned!

Let freedom ring from every bar stool and yellow stained finger tip!-toss- Let freedom ring from every cigarette burned drivers seat and tar covered wall!-toss- Let freedom ring from the mouth of those of us with perpetual coughs!toss- Let freedom ring because we all know you not only look sexier but you actually are sexier if your smoking! In other words, it’s not simply a preference, it’s a statement of an ontological fact!-toss-. Let freedom ring from my apartment that always has a weird smell!” –toss- *belch*cough*.

I got so worked up after throwing away these petitions that I had to return to my cubicle and have another coke to recover my strength. Of course, by this time it was 2:15 in the afternoon and so it was time to begin getting ready to go home.

Around 3:00 the Boss Man asked me if I knew what all that paper in the recycle bin was about. I told him the truth..."It's from some crazy person. You know, one of those crazies we get all the time