As I was driving back from my sojourn to Pixley to pick up my weekly vittles (only three days worth required, due to the short week ahead), I heard a familiar voice on the radio. NPR was doing the obligatory “there’s a lot of pressure on the cook at Thanksgiving” report (by the way, is there really? I’ve always thought that if people are getting a free meal, then said people should be grateful, shut the fuck up, and eat whatever it is you get), and they interviewed none other than Dan Pashman for a story on how to deal with the pain-in-the-ass vegetarians that show up for your meal (the answer seems to be to just let them eat the side dishes if they don’t want turkey; “Vegetarian? Here, have some mashed potatoes, and I’ll dig out that ancient can of cranberry sauce from the back of the cupboard”). Dan wasn’t as funny as I remembered him.

After that, though, was a delightful (just channeled my inner Dianne Rehm) interview with Willy Nelson, who (among other things) talked about how he quite smoking cigarettes. He said he’d been getting pneumonia and was smoking both pot and 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day, and decided either the pot or the butts had to go, so he emptied out a pack of Chesterfield, rolled up 20 “fat ones” to replace them with and hasn’t smoked a cigarette since.

This is remarkably similar to how I quit smoking many years ago. I rationed out my remaining smokes, and when they were gone, I only smoked dope. And I haven’t smoked a cigarette in longer than I can remember (something like 17-18 years, I think). If only NY would make pot legal, I could work on getting rid of a few other bad habits.

Oh well, guess I’d better go wash three shirts, three pairs of pants, three pairs of socks, and three pairs on underwear so I can get through the week.