Nut up, America. I was at a show, Streamers, yesterday, and three women next to me were worrying themselves over the smoking of herbal cigarettes onstage. "At first I wondered if it was my perfume," the one next to me said, "I want to know if they've done long-term studies of these things." It makes complete sense that someone who sprays vile scent on herself every day would worry about sitting thirty feet from fake cigarettes for two hours. Fact is, a lot of times they warn you that cigarettes will be lit onstage (I couldn't even smell the ones last night and you know this girl can smell things), or when strobe lights will be used. I should have asked these women if they'd have asked for refunds and not seen the show if there had been notice. When I was a kid, non-smoking relatives slid their best crystal butt-catchers in front of my Winston-addicted mom, it was considered polite and everyone seemed to tolerate the smell of smoke just fine. And not even Mom is dead.