This isn’t rocket science. You’re close, but you can’t get it quite right. You, Juul: I heard you’re doing something to fix the nicotine delivery. That’s good, but your device looks like crap. It’s not a cigarette.
I’m not here to talk about the assholes who picked up vaping as a hobby and carry around those bullshit portable hookahs and blow stank in everyone’s face—but seriously, those fuckers need to learn some shame. Just because it’s not technically poison doesn’t mean it isn’t obnoxious. A good smoker has been glared at twice a day for years: we know how to keep our emission levels on the DL.
And these are the smokers I want to talk about. Smokers like me, who want to quit almost as much as we want a damn cigarette. You guys are dropping the ball. So here’s what we want, and it’s on one of you to get it done.
This is a cigarette.
It’s not the bastard child of a Camel and a Philly. It’s not a fancy pen. It’s 8mm in diameter and 84mm long. That’s what 99 percent of smokers have been holding between their fingers for the last few decades. I don’t think anyone even makes extra-wide 140s, and that’s mostly what you’ve been pedaling.
This doesn’t matter so much, so let’s just grab the two colors everybody grabs when they want to look like money.
Black and gold. Because the designer doesn’t give a shit.
So what color is the light?
Remember those cold nights in your sophomore year of college, stumbling through your first or second romance, not sure if you should move closer to your date, you’re not even sure if you’re on a date, but you’re alone together on the hill, pulling your coats tighter, talking about nothing, wondering if the next pause is the right moment, looking at the stars, awesome in their beauty, trivial next to the beating of your heart, the softest curves of your faces gently brushed onto the night by the neon green light of your cigarettes?
Yeah, neither do I, because the light’s fucking red. We call the burning part of the cigarette the cherry because it’s red. If it was green we would call it the fucking lime.
The thing you guys are missing is the overall feel of the ritual. It’s not just smoke coming out of a tube. There’s a lot of tactile triggers we want, and you’re giving us an oversized chunk of ceramic. If I want something too big and rock hard in my mouth, I’ve got options.
That filter part should have a little texture and a little give. Find some kind of rubber or whatever so it’s not clicking off my teeth like a little alarm screaming “THIS IS NOT A CIGARETTE.”
A cigarette takes twelve to fifteen drags to smoke. Track that.
Every drag, light one of those bars up, starting from the tip, and when all fifteen are on, the thing shuts down for a few minutes. That’s what a cigarette is like. You know when you’re done.
Sex it up
Those bars are kind of bland. We can do better.
Make it a motherfucking dragon. In fact, that’s what this eCigarette is called. Here’s your sales pitch: “It’s a Motherfucking Dragon.”
Here’s your first commercial:
BOB: Hey Fred, what’s that you’re smoking?
FRED: Hey Bob! This here is a Motherfucking Dragon.
BOB: Holy shit, Fred. I’m not even gay, but I do believe I want to put your penis in my mouth.
FRED: That’s confusing, Bob, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say it, but if you want to put something in your mouth, head down to your local drug store and pick up a Motherfucking Dragon.
BOB: I think I’ll do just that. Thanks, Fred!
FRED: Anytime, Bob. Give my best to the missus.
VOICEOVER: Motherfucking Dragon. Why the fuck don’t we already have your money?
You’re welcome. First person who makes this happen starts getting the annual three grand I spend on cigarettes as soon as I see Motherfucking Dragons on the shelves.
P.S. My Illustrator skills hit a wall pretty fast, but make those lights spiral around the cylinder or some crazy shit.