With any luck you and I both will watch them slowly kill themselves in their death cult while we still have that last smoke tucked away in our back pocket.

Thanks. May it be so. (Good to hear I'm not the only one with that last one in reserve.)

You know, I remember at the time looking at non-smokers, both ex- and never-, and just kind of wishing I could be where they were already because that was one hell of a battle. I was able to do it, but it took me far, far longer to stop thinking about it than to stop doing it.

At some point I made it; I rarely even think about smoking anymore. But even now, every so often when the shit's hitting the fan of life I'll think about it, briefly picture myself sitting on some dock on a silent water at sunset, sprawled on a lounger wearing a shitty hat and smoking that imagined last smoke, and then quickly think: "Not there yet. Long way to go. Cut that shit out." And I do, and don't think of it again for weeks. But I do still think of it, even after all these years. That's how addictive it is.

They'll wish they were us soon enough.