DURST: Cigarrette Smokers
I smoke cigarrettes. Yes, I inhale the burning exhaust of a cylindrical tube full of tobacco into my respiratory cavaties filling the pores of my lungs on purpose. Just a little something I do for me. Isn't it great that gays came out of the closet just in time for us smokers to go in? You know who I feel sorry for. Grs. We are the new lepers. They're going to make us wear bells pretty soon so they can hear us approach. You see us outside our little office buildings in our little circular smoking cabals. It's like high school all over again. "Hey Durst, the manager" 45-years-old, relearning how to cup a cigarette. As of January 1st here in California, no more smoking in any bars. You non-smokers may be happy now, but how long before the health police come knocking on your door? Next will be pork rinds. Then blue cheese. "Aromatically agressive." And finally to save us from ourselves; chocolate. Oh, hit you where you live did we? Can you imagine trying to introduce sugar into today's climate? "All right, here's the deal. I got this flaky white powder, and it produces a real wiry high. I mean jaw clenchingly wired. Gives you the shakes like a poodle on a Zamboni. And the crash is ... hard. But here's the kicker, we market it straight at kids. Start them out on it the first thing every morning. Cover their cereal in it at the factory." Yeah, Will Durst can see that, then the FDA would tow your butt to sea.