a placeless world

It first struck me as Big Tobacco was eating its own ash in courtrooms across the nation: Those irresponsible enough to infest their bodies with smoke, tar and 4,000 other toxic substances were taking their stupidity to the bank.

Not that I mourn Biggy T's woes. Call me heartless, but it's difficult for me to feel sorry for those who profit on addiction.

But I did grieve for personal responsibility. And I saw the writing on the wall.

Today cigarettes. Tomorrow McDonalds.

Then, perhaps, Oreos?

Few lawmakers would suggest banning smoking outright — and far fewer would proffer the legal elimination of junk food. But it doesn't really matter. Litigation is common man's legislation. And now, those who have profited from humanity's free will to poison itself are under siege.

Forget the homophobic attempts to stop gays from marrying and wayward endeavors to get prayer in public schools, when it comes to forcing a religious agenda upon the American people, it's the anti-junk-in-the-body lobby that's been most successful.

Granted, most of those who ride this bandwagon probably don't realize they're fighting a Holy War, but that makes them no less in the Almighty's eyes, I'm sure.

After all, it's right there in the book he reportedly scribed word-for-word: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body."

And now, yet another battle in the Crusade. The San Mateo (Calif.) County Sheriff's Office is refusing to hire smokers. As the logic goes, cops need to be super healthy so they can chase down fleet-footed bad guys — and the poor folks in San Mateo shouldn't have to pony up for disability payments for police who prefer cancer sticks to night sticks.

Sure. Sure. I can buy that. But I've seen walls in east Harlem with less writing on them than this one, really.

Today cigarettes. Tomorrow donuts?

Where does it end? Will my employer put a camera in the break room to monitor my trips to the candy machine? Will I forfeit my upcoming raise if I choose a Classic Coke over that one-calorie crapola?

Oh sure, God might be laughing, but I'm not.

My body may be his temple, but my soul belongs to Butterfinger.