Up In Smoke

I confess that I have bought into the adage, "A woman is just a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke."

I have had a cigar to relax, to celebrate and, well, to smoke. Camping and ski trips have even had me purchase a box of cigars. But lately, I've been forced to patronize low-end-priced cigars, especially Honduran.

That's why I'm choking on the news that Honduras allowed 852 inmates to be packed into Comayagua prison, which has a capacity of 250 people. Sadly, I realize that Honduras would never be guilty of putting extra cigars in their exported boxes of smoke.

Of course, the smokescreen that kept everyone outside of Honduras from knowing about their prison and its overstocked situation could not hide the fire. The inmate death toll was as considerable and disposable as the cigar defects that simply get put aside. Families were left with little more than ashes to mourn and put to rest.

I imagine that the Honduran government is going to want to wrap this prison debacle up and tight as quickly as possible - if for no other reason than to get on with its cigar business. Too much time and attention would need to be diverted from meeting the regulations and quotas required by the industry. No getting around the inspections and reviews when there's so much competition from the other tropical countries producing cigars.

The honor of the country depends upon what goes on behind closed doors as much as the face that you put on your brand of management. Numbers, like margins, are part of most decisions on how to corner the market. Quality control is key to not paying the penalty for over-efficiency. It's understood that a coordinated intake and release system works to create the best of experiences.

So why aren't human beings treated as good as the cigars that they smoke? Why follow strict procedures for something that can kill, when something that may save a life from crime is disregarded? Why care about a country's reputation for sales any more than its reputation for cells?

Prison reform, it seems, is either valued as the humanitarian response to a life that has come undone, or it is discounted like rejected cigars. I'm sure a woman would strive for the smooth transition of a life back to society and family. Better, I would think, than the drag of burning negligence that leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

Ladies, you have my apology.