Towards the end of his life, John Belushi took the role of Ernie Souchak for the lighthearted romantic comedy Continental Divide. The Souchak part was based on legendary Chicagoan Mike Royko, a hard drinking, chain smoking, good old fashioned newspaper reporter.

In Continental Divide, Souchak/Royko comes a little too close to breaking a big story on City Hall corruption, and he begins getting death threats. His editor decides that the best thing to do is send Ernie on a special assignment, to Colorado. A woman named Nell Porter (played by the yummy Blair Brown), studies eagles in their natural habitat, and is heading an initiative to save them from extinction. She hates reporters, spends all of her time avoiding interviews, and stays in a cabin about 11,000 feet up in the Rockies.

Obviously, Souchak has no interest in going to the Rocky Mountains when he's about to blow the lid off the biggest story of his career, but when the Outfit blows the shit out of his apartment, Ernie reconsiders and sets out for the great west. A guide takes Ernie up into the mountains, and along the way Ernie stops to have a smoke, which immediately makes him fall asleep. As someone who has smoked on a chairlift while ascending Aspen mountain, I can assure you that's no exaggeration. The first time you smoke in the thin air, you want to just curl up and take a snooze. Don't axe me why, something to do with oxygen.

When Ernie meets Nell, he tries to pretend he's just out walking around the mountains sightseeing, but she sees right through that nonsense. When she catches him writing in a little book, he tells her he's keeping a "diary" of his adventures. Seeing that Ernie's an idiot, she allows him to stay in her cabin as a guest, for his own safety. It's not long before Nell reads his diary and discovers that he's writing all about her and the eagles. Human interest stuff like "She needs to wear more make-up." Incensed, Nell throws Ernie out of her cabin, but eventually capitulates and allows Ernie to interview her, provided he'll climb with her to the peaks of the surrounding range to watch her beloved birds of prey.

It's at this point in the movie where I think John does some of the finest acting of his brief career. He'd been running low on smokes, and had been rationing cigarettes to make his supply last as long as is humanly possible. Now he was down to his last smoke. He went outside, and entered a deeply introspective state as he lit up. He savored the effects of the nicotine as it coursed through his body.

He puffed deeply, pulling that smoke down into his lungs to get the absolute maximum amount of enjoyment from the Vantage blue. As the glowing cherry drew closer to his lips, he pinched the filter like a joint and pulled the last wisp of tobacco smoke into his lungs. He held his breath until he could hold it no longer, and then exhaled.

And then Souchak looked off sadly into space and said...."That's it. I'm going to go crazy now."

Turns out he didn't go crazy.

His lungs thanked him immediately, his skin looked better, he had nicer breath, his blood pressure dropped, his risk of lung cancer began to diminish, his friends didn't look at him as a stinking pariah, his family didn't have to leave an ash tray on top of the garbage cans in the garage at Thanksgiving, he stopped burning holes in his clothes, his apartment smelled better, he smelled better, his teeth looked better, food tasted better, he didn't need to carry Altoids, and he saved about $7 a day.

And he got to sleep with Nell Porter in a Rocky Mountain cabin.

I wonder if another 60 cents a pack would have been enough to compel Royko to finally quit these fucking things. I leave Cook County to buy my smokes, which saves me money. I buy in bulk to make the drive worthwhile. I have 4 cartons of cigarettes left, that's 40 packs. At my normal rate of consumption, that would last me about a month, maybe less. I have decided to make them my last 40 packs. That may seem like a lot to a non-smoker, but to a guy who's been smoking a pack a day or more for the last 33 years,....that's not too many.

40 packs to go, so I have to make them last. I'm going to try the 1/2-ing method to start. I'm going to cut down to a half pack a day for a week. Then a quarter pack for a week. In two weeks, I'll be smoking 5 cigarettes a day instead of 20 or 30. I can do this. I have to, or these fuckers are going to kill me. My poor lungs will finally like me again.

So thank you Uncle Sam for adding another tax to my disgusting habit. Hopefully the new tax will have this effect on more than just a few people.

Even if I go crazy, it's time.

Good luck, Schmutzie.

Let me know how it turns out with Blair Brown.

My health insurance premiums will go down by about 30%.

Man, when I do the math, it's embarrassing. 33 years x 1 pack a day= $40-45,000, and that's being conservative. That's a freaking BMW, and I don't mean the 3Series. Ugh.

But it's the health thing now, I'm coming up on 50. Time to choose before the choice is meaningless.

No choice. I have to quit. Like drug stories and alcohol stories, cigarette stories never have a happy ending.

I simply cannot believe that you are so quick to turn your back on your friends. Who has been there in your pocket, reliably, every day, for all these years? Who is the friend who has stuck by you through good times and bad, through sickness and health, and ever more frequent sickness? I'll tell you who. It's those loyal cigarettes, whom you now plan to kick to the curb. Think about it: which friend do you most want to spend time with when you wake up every morning? Which drinking buddy has been beside you every single time? Which buddy do you increasingly like when drinking? Which friend has never been pissed off at you? Who makes sure you always have an appealingly smooth and delightfully colorful lighter in your pocket? The cigarettes do. Sure, there are some minor inconveniences, like getting bronchitis with every cold, smelling like horse-shit, embarassing coughing, excusing yourself from everything to go smoke, and blue-bloating-death from COPD. These are a small price to pay for true friendship. You are a very cold guy.

Thanks for the encouragement Ron. I'll take Chris Brown at this point if it'll help lose the monkey.

Drug dealers, that's what they are. The whole lot of them. Phil Morris and the tobacco lobby.

do it now. throw em away.

If I were in addiction research, I would highly suggest that you join a smoking cessation group, as your chance of success will increase quite a bit as opposed to trying to go it alone.

Just sayin.

Cigarettes aren't my friend, they just seemed like my friend. Like the guy who hangs around because he knows you have weed.

And oh, I don't even want to think about my Zippo collection right now.

eBay is about to have 200 new listings for some pretty vintage stuff.

WWII Zippos.

Nam Zippos.

NASA Zippos.

Town and Country Series.

Grumman LEM Zippo.

Lockheed Agena Satellite Zippo..

I have a Zippo from 1937, their fifth year in business.

Oh dear god, what have I done?

Hey wait....I don't have to sell my Zippos. I still smoke pot!

Phew. That was close.

=

...

Hey! I have an idea. Instead of smoking all those awful cigarettes, mapping out 1/2 pack and 1/4 pack weekly plans and stuff, just send them to me. It's the least I can do. Really. It is, after all, my birthday.

Susan, General Delivery, Lummi Island, WA. 98262. I'll call Post-Mistress Grace and tell her I'm expecting a package.

I'll try anything at this point Schrod. I've been telling people for years that I don't need the gum, the patch, hypnosis, or support groups. For years I've been saying I don't need that shit. Maybe I do. I'm going to try my way first.

I gave up blow on the first try, cold turkey, 19 years ago. From what I've read, I think this is going to be harder than that, so if group is what it takes, then I'll do group. Seeing as I expect to be a bit irritable during this process, I hope people don't think I'm rude or abrupt or anything like that.

Is it your birthday Susan? Happy birthday. No I won't send you cancer for your birthday. I'm fond of you.

And Monte Cristo #2s do NOT count as cigarettes so just get that thought right outta yer head.

One hour at a time, right? Or four?

Someone mentioned Papillon the other day...reminded me of a quote from Louis Dega

"A temptation resisted is a true measure of character."