The absence of smoke revealed to me a new nuisance while I was at the Bobby Conn show at Schuba’s a week ago. Well, it’s not so much new as it was previously hidden, unlike, um, Bobby’s features in those pants.

I’m talking about none other than body odor.

Yes, standing right up against the stage, with the singer and THOSE PANTS smack in front of you and a mass of sweaty bodies pressed up behind you, without that aromatic tobacco haze to envelope and protect you, the horrendous stench of sweat and hormones is unbearable. How I already miss the days when smoke, no matter how much it hurt my eyes and lungs, masked the B.O. completely.

So since we’ve already started down this slippery slope, I propose another law: mandated bathing. I think it’s only fair that if you’re going to stand next to me at Schuba’s, the city should force you to shower. AND USE SOAP.