Smokin’ Token

It’s been quite a while since Camel Joe, the phallic-snouted mascot who had been the butt of way too many stupid jokes and the subject of far too much controversy, was yanked from R.J. Reynolds’ advertising campaign for Kool cigarettes. I never quite understood all the flak, and always dismissed it with my customary refrain, “Oh, people are just too fucking stupid.”
So Camel Joe is gone. He’s been banished. He’s hitherto forever hidden from view. But what of his sister? Why hasn’t anyone raised the roof about her? She’s not only a threat to our health, she’s even more insidious than her bad boy brother, and her ill effects even farther-reaching. She’s also much more unsightly than her sibling ever was.
I’m talking, of course, about Camel Toe. Yes, Camel Toe. A day doesn’t go by that I’m not confronted by her everywhere I look. Indeed, during the warmer months, it’s almost like an assault. I cannot help but notice her in all her squashed glory, especially now that she insists on flaunting her bad self in the tightest, most unforgiving (and unforgivable) of jeans.
I’m onto you, Camel Toe. I can see right through you. But I’m not going to play your game. I didn’t play your brother’s, and I most definitely am not going to play yours. He, at least, was smokin’. You, my dear, are not.