In mid-August 2025, while the rest of America was debating whether Barbie deserved an Oscar nomination, the United States Postal Service quietly declared war on flavored fog. That’s right: the USPS—an institution barely able to deliver your Amazon package without routing it through Albuquerque—has suddenly positioned itself as the frontline defender against the scourge of illicit disposable vapes.
Letters surfaced showing USPS blocked business shipments from New York distributor Demand Vape after the NYC Law Department alleged they were moving unlicensed products—products not blessed by the FDA, and flavored in ways Congress apparently thinks will corrupt the nation’s youth (“Blue Razz Cotton Candy Unicorn Farts,” etc.). The crackdown? Real. The motives? Suspicious.
When the Mailman Becomes the Marlboro Man’s Best Friend
Let’s start with the absurdity: The federal government banned mailing vapes directly to consumers in 2021, but carved out tiny “business-to-business” exceptions. Now USPS is ripping those away too, turning every post office into an FDA enforcement outpost. Meanwhile, FedEx won’t touch vape shipments, DHL limits them to approved cargo, and UPS is more likely to lose your package in Topeka than ship your minty pod.
Translation: the only way to legally ship nicotine gadgets is to already be Big Tobacco. Altria and British American Tobacco—the very corporations that brought us lung cancer chic—stand to profit, because when USPS kneecaps smaller vape distributors, the field narrows to the companies still selling Marlboros by the carton.
The FDA’s Holy 39
Here’s the joke: as of August, the FDA has only authorized 39 e-cigarette products. That’s out of tens of thousands on the market. Think about that. Ninety-nine percent of the industry is, by definition, unauthorized. It’s like giving liquor licenses to exactly 39 bars in Manhattan and telling the rest to shut down.
And yet, convenience stores nationwide are still stocked with rainbow-packaged disposables from Shenzhen that slipped through customs disguised as “toys” or “socks.” Smuggling is rampant. Customs brokers play shell games with paperwork. Tariffs are slapped, seizures announced, yet the shelves remain full. Clearly the war is more about theater than enforcement.
My Lungs, My Evidence
Now, forgive the personal interjection, but this is where satire collides with lived experience: I smoked for years. Cigarettes shredded my lungs, left me hacking like an old Buick, and made every staircase feel like Everest. Switching to vaping? My lungs improved. Dramatically. I don’t wheeze climbing stairs anymore. I don’t smell like an ashtray at 7 a.m. My dentist stopped glaring at me.
There is no definitive scientific consensus that vaping is worse than smoking. In fact, most studies suggest the opposite: fewer toxins, fewer carcinogens, fewer people dying of tar-coated lungs. Is it harmless? Of course not. But compared to a pack of Newports? It’s like comparing a salad with ranch dressing to a deep-fried Twinkie.
The Quiet Part Out Loud
So why the crackdown? Because vaping worked too well. Millions of people, like me, stopped buying Marlboros and Camels and started buying bubblegum-flavored fog sticks instead. And who owns Congress? Big Tobacco.
Follow the nicotine money trail: cigarette sales fell, Altria panicked, FDA suddenly rediscovered its “authority,” and now USPS—the agency that can’t even fix rural mailboxes—is an anti-vape shock troop. The message: stop vaping, return to smoking.
Satire Writes Itself
Imagine this conversation:
Big Tobacco Lobbyist: “We’re losing billions to fruit-flavored vape sticks.”
FDA: “We’ll approve exactly 39 products. That should stall innovation.”
USPS: “And we’ll choke off shipping routes for anyone daring to compete.”
Congress: “Great teamwork. Now let’s adjourn for lunch and light up.”
That’s not satire. That’s literally the American regulatory state in 2025.
The Bee’s-Eye View
Hovering above this smoggy battlefield, our cartoon bee clutches a sign: “Ban Everything but Marlboros.” The hive is buzzing, because the colony figured out something obvious: if vapes disappear, smokers crawl back to cigarettes. And the corporations laugh all the way to the bank while the rest of us cough into infinity.
The Clutter of Morality Plays
Regulators frame vaping as a “youth epidemic.” Yes, teenagers have vaped. Teenagers have also huffed whipped cream chargers, eaten Tide Pods, and shotgun-chugged Fireball in a Taco Bell parking lot. But notice what doesn’t get banned: liquor ads during football, lottery scratchers at gas stations, Juul-sponsored science grants. The crackdown isn’t moral. It’s financial.
When you hear “public health,” read “profit health.” The crusade against vapes isn’t to save teenagers—it’s to save market share.
Closing Sting: Smoke, Mirrors, and Mail Trucks
The USPS crackdown on unlicensed vapes isn’t about protecting your lungs. It’s about protecting Big Tobacco’s dividends. It’s about choreographing a public drama where the villains are bubblegum-scented vapes, not menthol-laden cigarettes that still kill half a million Americans annually.
The absurdity is that ordinary people like me are proof of concept: quitting smoking via vaping improves lives. But in America, the real health hazard isn’t what’s in your lungs—it’s what’s in your lobbyist’s pockets.
So the next time you see your mail carrier, thank them for bringing jury duty summons, bills, and Christmas cards late—and for moonlighting as the newest foot soldier in Big Tobacco’s revenge campaign.
Because in the land of the free, you’re free to vape… until Philip Morris calls your congressman.