Mom told me about when she was in fifth grade, going to school in Newark. There was this boy who liked her, Charles Unger-something... I was too distracted by the idea that someone actually like-liked my insufferable Mom to pick up on the name. But Mom didn't like him, because he was a year older and he smoked. Mom's not exactly good at math, so I had to make sure she got the timeline correct here: Charles Ungersomething smoked — cigarettes — in the sixth grade. What, was he drinking coffee as an infant?

So I want all the anti-smoking nutballs out there to shut the hell up, cause when was the last time you saw an eleven-year-old smoking? The fifties, that's when.