Last night, Emily Hilliard (of musical, NELP, and silly accents fame) introduced the oft-overlooked issue of the growing trend toward de-legalizing smoking in bars, which I at first laughed off until someone asserted in all fucking seriousness that Michigan is one of the last states left that permits smoking in bars. Although a couple hours later I couldn't help fearing that the secondhand smoke at the Elbow Room would cause my pupils to simply drop out, my dismay was alleviated when a single line of smoke drifted across the faces of Chris Bathgate's band (including Emily) as they entered the gentle refrain of "Buffalo Girl" (I think it was "Buffalo Girl," and if it wasn't I still think it's the perfect song to insert into this recollection) and then ascended above them like a tornado of vanishing Zen as the drummer pounded his kit, returning the song to its furious instrumental hook. (Note: In case you didn't know, PEDAL STEEL GUITAR IS THE SHIT.) And I was thinking of what cigarettes were doing for Chris's music. And I was thinking, as I am thinking more of the time than I probably should be, about how some film director would have praised the gods for some barfly's incidentally magnificent exhalation, about how blessed a shot it would have made in a concert movie. (Tangentially related true story: Drew Barrymore and Ellen Page were filming a movie outside the Elbow Room in Ypsilanti last night. Whaaaaa?)
So please, Michigan government, recognize these two disparate facts: First, your people need good health care and affordable, something-near-guaranteed health insurance (for the sake of their human dignity). Second, your people need to smoke in bars (for the sake of Art).
Signed,
JMan