From Smoking Lamp, another NYC story (or maybe the same story, because I’m sure I mentioned this guy recently):
A New York City council member introduced a bill earlier this week that would ban smoking while walking on all sidewalks controlled by the Department of Transportation and Department of Parks and Recreation, according to a ABC 7 report.
City Council member Peter Koo introduced the bill Thursday. While the bill would ban smoking on “adjoining parks, squares and public places, pedestrian pathways through parks, and parking lots,” it would only be in effect when people are walking and smoking, ABC reported.
It does not legislate people who are standing and smoking, according to the report.
“In a perfect world, every smoker would have the self-awareness to realize that smoking and walking down a crowded sidewalk subjects everyone behind you to breathing in the fumes,” Koo said in a statement. “Unfortunately, we’ve all had the experience of getting stuck behind a smoker while walking down a crowded city sidewalk. If you want to smoke, stand off to the side.”
I couldn’t help translating “smoking” into some other activity, like “talking”:
A New York City council member introduced a bill earlier this week that would ban talking while walking on all sidewalks controlled by the Department of Transportation
“In a perfect world, every talker would have the self-awareness to realize that talking and walking down a crowded sidewalk subjects everyone behind you to listening to the words,” Kook said in a statement. “Unfortunately, we’ve all had the experience of getting stuck behind a talker while walking down a crowded city sidewalk. If you want to talk, stand off to the side.”
After all, why not? If you’re going to ban people from smoking, what’s to stop you from banning them from talking, or eating, or reading, or maybe even just daydreaming?
“In a perfect world, every daydreamer would have the self-awareness to realize that daydreaming and walking down a crowded sidewalk subjects everyone walking towards you to seeing your inane grins,” batshit-crazy Kook said in a statement. “Unfortunately, we’ve all had the experience of getting stuck heading towards a daydreamer while walking down a crowded city sidewalk. If you want to daydream, stand off to the side.”
And going back to the smoke, why is it only people behind smokers that experience the fumes? Does the smoke stay still after it has left smokers’ mouths, and just hang there for hours and hours? In my experience, smoke usually rises, because it’s made of hot and less dense air. And if there’s any wind, it also gets carried by the wind in whatever direction the wind happens to be going, which can sometimes be in circles. And the same is true of smoke from smokers who are standing off to one side.
And what the hell is Kook doing imagining life “in a perfect world“? What the hell has that got to do with anything? Can he please keep his dreams of a perfect world to himself, because I’m pretty damn sure that my idea of a perfect world wouldn’t be anything like his.
In fact, I think I can say with some certainty that my idea of a perfect world would be one which didn’t include people like Peter Koo. Because I’d know that whenever the little bastard showed up, he’d be complaining about absolutely everything. He wouldn’t like this person’s gaudy yellow short, or that girl’s black lipstick, or her friend’s mini-skirt, or the book the guy in the corner is reading, or the steak the guy next to him is eating (with tomato ketchup all over it). For here’s a guy who wants this to be a perfect world, and not just any old perfect world, but his personal perfect world.
And you know for sure that even if he was given his perfect world, within minutes he’d be saying that the palm trees are “a bit too green”, and the waves breaking on the beach are “a bit too high”, and the girls in bikinis are “a bit too plump”, and the beer on the table beside him is “a bit too cold”, and anyway he’d asked for a Budweiser, not a Beck’s. In short, even if he was granted his perfect world, he’d soon find some some minuscule imperfection in it, which he would slowly exaggerate from a molehill into a mountain, because he’s that sort of guy. He’s the kind of guy who finds fault in everything, everywhere, all the time. And there’s never an end to his complaining.
In fact, if Peter Koo died and went to heaven, you know exactly how he would respond to it, don’t you? In next to no time he’d be complaining to the management about this and this and this, and that and that and that. And St Peter, who whoever runs the place, would listen to him patiently for a while, and then he’d call the guards, and say:
“This guy’s obviously come to the wrong place. Please escort him to the other place. Y’know, the hot place down below. Because I’m sure he’ll be a lot happier there than he is here.”