On smoking…
It is out of character for me to involve myself in my own blog, but I can remain silent no longer. Quiting smoking is the hardest thing I have ever had to endure. [Indeed, I have run in the mountains for mile after mile (and I am no runner), have had to deal with backstabbers, obnoxious college professors (invariably the exception), oscar acceptance speeches, influenza, and you get the idea. But this, this smoking business, is an entirely different thing.] Those of you who know me, and keep-up on my affairs, know that I have shown little outward frustration, but I must come clean… the only thing keeping me from smoking is my sincere belief that masochism, in the pursuit of something noble, is no vice; and sacrifice, without a cause, is no virtue. [Okay, the last bit about sacrifice is pushing it, but still it's Goldwater-esque.] No, the real reason, perhaps a twinge masochistic, is that I would rather suffer the agony of withdrawal, than poison myself any further. I have drawn my line.
