The C words
It has occurred to me that the Anti-Smoker Industry that they are very fond of C words.
The first is of course “children”. They are obsessed with the children and drag them into every possible argument. Children mustn’t have access to tobacco, nor any wisp of smoke, and of course the mere sight of a cigarette is enough to drive any child into a lifetime of addiction to hard drugs. They know that mankind is hard wired to protect its offspring so they use and abuse this fact whenever and wherever they can.
This child obsession strikes me as somewhat ironic as the industry itself is remarkably childlike. They have a petulant attitude towards the tobacco industry, shouting “liar liar” at any argument, or sticking their fingers in their ears and shouting “nah nah nah” rather than listen to any rational argument that counters their fairy tales. They are like the bold spoiled little brat, demanding things and stamping their feet when they don’t get their way.
The second word so beloved of the industry is of course “cancer”. They know this word strikes fear into the hearts of the population so they use it at every available opportunity, Smoking, according to them, “causes” not just lung cancer but every imaginable form of cancer in the medical book, and a few they haven’t invented yet.
Again there is a huge irony here, as the greatest cancer in modern society is the Nanny State, which of course grew out of the Anti-Smoker movement. Like a cancer, it started small and slowly spread its diseased cells through the population. After gaining a foothold, it started to mutate from the anti-tobacco cancer into various other forms such as the ant-alcohol, anti-sugar and anti-fat variations.
This cancer has spread rapidly in recent years and is now prevalent throughout the world, reaching as high as the World Health Organisation and even the World Bank. And like any cancer it is gradually killing off its host – in this case individual freedom.
This is of course a third C word that applies.
They are all a shower of C***s. [Fill in as appropriate.]
You might also have mentioned other “C” words about them like cunning, crafty, cheap, crumby, callous, capricious, careerist, carping, castigating, cataclysmic, catastrophic, catharsistic, censuring, chicanery, chiding, choleric, chronic, churlish, circuitous, circumscribing, clique-ish, coercive, condescending, contemptible, covert, culpable, cynical and yes, counts too.
All true.
Add corrupt!
Another “C” word they like to flaunt is care.
Their “care” wreaks havoc by disrupting society and harming individuals. It may not be as blatantly obvious as the bombastic terror from terrorists, but it certainly creates a lot more misery in the long run. That’s why I call them Carerorists.
https://zillatron.quora.com/The-Carerorist
Excellent point. This have this sincere air about them that they really care about me. It is all for my own good. They want to help me because they care so much.
They can go fuck themselves. It’s my life and my body. I make my own decisions about what I do with it. If they cared so much about me they’d leave me alone and stop hounding, persecuting and punishing me.
Do you, near neighbours, encounter an accompaniment to the c word phenomenon which is very common over ‘ere “and partner agencies” or its abbreviation “partner agencies” ?
It seems every bugger has to be seen working with a partner these days.
I haven’t come across that so much here. The UK seems to be awash with local groups – sort of subsidiaries of ASH – but that hasn’t caught on here that I know of. Generally it’s just the same heavenly twins here – ASH and the Irish Cancer Society.
Yea, we must comply with government edicts. Where I work there are large signs exhorting:’ NO SMOKING. IF YOU SMOKE HERE YOU WILL BE ASKED TO MOVE’. At a meeting, we were told that the staff has a collective responsibility to ask smokers, politely, of course, to move on. Fuck that I say, I’m employed as a geneticist, not a fucking bouncer. Anyway, I could give a shit where people choose to indulge a legal product. Imagine a 9 stone (dripping wet) lecturer telling a 25 stone Maori to move on. Now that would be a sight to see. Predictably, the signs are festooned, nay surrounded, by butt ends.