It's the year 2015 and I'm rehearsing civil disobedience again, all to myself. I lit one of my beloved Havanas that I had been hoarding in the basement years ago when they were still legal. I puff the smoke into the open sky above my garden seat with relish. Of course, I made sure beforehand that there are no passive smokers in the danger zone around me. I bought the fire brigade a snack so that they wouldn't come out because of my incense. A buzzard circles above me. Aren't his calls a little hoarse? I am not at all comfortable with it. Again and again I look down at the street to see whether the mobile intervention patrol of the Lung League is approaching. With their state-of-the-art systems, they can locate traces of tobacco that are several kilometers away. Just last week, a drone from the anti-fat troops discovered an illegal French fries stall, even though it was perfectly camouflaged in the basement of an organic shop. Deep-frying has been strictly forbidden for a year because it is unhealthy. My gaze wanders over to the nearby vineyard. Or better, what's left of him. Namely nothing. Last month, the last of the vines were pulled up and burned in the high security oven. Anyone who still had alcohol supplies at home had to dispose of them at the poison collection point. Now the federal government has all private cellars searched to see if someone is still hiding a drop of the deadly stuff. I hope you won't find my cigars.
So that this remains a utopia, on September 23, vote no to the radical, blanket smoking ban. The current law is strict enough to allow smokers and non-smokers to coexist.
(written by Markus Kruger)