Hey you! You with the teeth! Let me ask you- are you a smoker? And no, I don’t mean a social, occasional cigarette consumer after a few too many liquor fluids, nor do I want to hear about the Ivy Leaguers and their elite pipe-and-stogie establishments. And would the long-haired tie-dyed cannabis puffers keep to themselves? I’m only referring to pack-a-day men or women, the true unsung heroes of this otherwise musical globe.
Let’s face it, cigarette smoking is cool. There’s honestly without a doubt no way around it. Johnny Depp does it. Bono does it, I think. And nine out of ten First Ladies were smokers, too. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you must be, since I’d fallen for that ruse the old Surgeon General put over on us. He or she claims that cigarettes kill you. I was totally convinced of this, too, but then I learned the truth- not one law book contains a case of murder involving a cigarette. Not even two law books! That’s just racial profiling, plain and simple. The plain fact is cigarettes don’t kill people, people and speeding cars and broadswords and falling pianos kill people. Also sharks.
So don’t let those anti-tobacco, pro-shark jerks steer you down the wrong passageway. Smoking is great, and cool, and great! You can roll your own cigarettes, very arts-and-craftsy. Smoke a clove, be the life of the party! Give each of your cigarettes a nickname and pretend you’re burning them! And, perhaps most importantly, cigarette smokers won’t be part of the Rapture. Just ask Debbie Harry- for a cigarette, that is!
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