Ah, the infamous ‘inverted tracheotomy’. That’s why I gave up my 20-a-day smoking habit, you know – out of fear of punitive attacks. And you know what they’ll put as the cause of death? Lung cancer.

Since the small and weak tobacco lobby was so easily extirpated by powerful and well-funded organizations like Bob’s… well, there was no one left who was willing to act on behalf of and in the interests of the humble smoker.

I just might, grote! In my own honest, country-folk voice.

I just might, grote! In my own honest, country-folk voice.

No shite. In DT today, you can’t swing a dead bloody ferret without smackin some matronly earthmotherish volunteer organizer with a clipboard and frizzy hair frantically indicating approved parking places to school buses full of screaming munchkins who are all trying to figure out how to get directly to the mini-donut trailer without having to stop and watch some effin’ mime act out The Father of Waters legend in an urban-punk-granola-diorama sort of way.

I wish the Vulcans were here. That’d scare the pants off of this we-are-the-world crowd.

Yep, learned the hard way, and started posting only under this pseudonym last year, when those whacko People for the Ethical Treatment of Alveoli got wind (get it? – “wind”?) of my nico-con leanings. Ever try to smoke a cig with a ten-penny framing nail spiked through the middle?

Sure seems like St. Paul is getting jacked up for a big weekend. Kids are running all around the capital today, the cathedral is having its centennial bash, Grand Old Day… is gunning to get rained out again — but even if not, tens of thousands of people will descend on the street to ask:

* Who the hell is playing on that stage?
* What is the point of all this?
* When can we go home?
* Where the hell am I supposed to park?
* Why did I come here?
* How can this thing be so popular?