The old saying used to say that “you should smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.” There’s no worse advice in the history of all of the things that have ever been advised. Smoking is gross.
If you got ‘em, you should just shoot yourself. This is to say that even a dead and rotting corpse is more attractive than a smoker. If you smoke, you’re dead to me. If you don’t smoke, then we should hang out. If you don’t hang out, then you should. I’m a lot of fun.
By the way, don’t think that you can hide your nicotine addiction by chewing your smokeless tobacco around me either. That’s gross, too. It’s all spittooning your chaw into the empty water bottles in my car. You don’t deserve bottles. You deserve cancer. If you chew, then you should put fire ants in your eyes and cayenne pepper in your pee hole. That’s right. Pee hole.
Oh, and another thing; pull my finger. Smell that? Old wet newspapers and canned, creamed corn. You are that smell to me…completely disgusting. If you’re going to insist on riding your premium, menthol-flavored cancer pony to your grave, please, count me out. I don’t want anything to do with you. Now will you have sex with me?
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Does this article only refer to tobacco? I smoke bald eagle feathers wrapped in smooth, refreshing patriotism. It smells like amber waves of grain in the morning, which I find quite pleasant (not to be confused with smelling like a pheasant… Yuck!). However, it does turn your teeth purple-mountains-majesty. Can we still hang out?
I don’t know what you’re smoking, but it sounds radical. Jeffersonian even. We can hang but you gots to lay off the American Spirits.