Where Freud and the SJG Collide

"I'm reminded of a quote from Sigmund Freud."

"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."  -- Siggy Freud, Vienna
"Sometimes a cigar gets your ass canned."  -- SJG, Sherman Oaks

Cigars.  Not a fan.  Why do I hate them so?  I find them stinky and icky and ugh-worthy.  I don't care where they come from:  Havana or  Hava Nagila.  In NYC, a dude in a pink Polo shirt left a trail of cigar smoke wafting down swanky 5th Avenue.  Hubby and I had the misfortune of walking two peeps behind him.  "Let's lose this putz," I commanded.  "I can't take it.  Turn left at the light."  From where does this hatred stem, you ask?  It goes way back.  Back to 1980, a time when smoking was allowed in office buildings.  And yes, even cigar-smoking was allowed.  Of course, there weren't too many a-holes bold enough to smoke a cigar in an office.  As luck should have it, I happened to work for a big a-hole at the time, the executive producer of an early reality series.  Perhaps you missed it?  "Those Amazing Animals."  This was during my first foray into show biz, a stint that lasted all of one month. I quit my first show bizzy job after three weeks, mainly because my feet couldn't touch the pedals of the Cadillac I was ordered to get washed.  "Ba-bye," I said, and ran screaming out the door.


The next job was working for the afore-mentioned a-hole. Here's where I circle back to the cigar.  This man smoked cigars in our closed-door meetings.  So one day, let's call it Day Eight, the SJG asked him nicely if there was any possible way he could see it in his heart to maybe not smoke a cigar in our closed-door, windowless meetings.  I got fired that day and went running back to the comfy confines of journalism.  "Take me back!"  I screamed.  "Take me back."  And journalism took me back and paid me bupkis.

Naturally, any time I find a new cigar-hater, I feel an instant affinity, especially if that cigar-hater is none other than Mr. Mel Brooks.  During a joke-writing session for "Show of Shows," Mel Brooks once complained about Sid Caesar's cigar smoke.  "He's the strongest guy that ever lived," Mel said in an interview.  "He just grabbed me by my pants and held me out the window, and he said, 'Have you had enough there?'" Guess I'm lucky I worked on the ground floor at the time of my cigar complaint.  Tonight I'll be watching American Masters' "Mel Brooks: Make A Noise."  I give you permission to watch it, too.  You're welcome.