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Gauloises Blonde Filter Light

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      25.10.2001 03:11
      Very helpful



      That's right. You folks in Ameriky need a good prop to attract sullen trailer trash babes who have never ventured out of their state? These are it. I buy them at one of the big cigarette outlet stores on the highway in North Carolina for one reason, foreign cigarettes are like a major aphro for the poor trashy babes I like. In all honesty they are not a bad cigarette but i can't find any justification to haul them over here from France while we have all the tobackky we need here. They are smooth yet have a harsh bite at times and they burn all goofy. They are a lot less harsh than the ones in the blue box and it has a more fruity taste that is actually enjoyable. You feel less than whole though, smoking these while you know all teh great French artists and writers did their work while smoking the blue ones. They caught me on fire the other night. I was smoking in bed and watching TV at the motel. I always smoke a lot after putting tattoos on myself which I had been doing for several hours, making an entire "sock" on my left foot comprised of overlapping multicolored simple geometric shapes. So I am smoking and my hot box falls off my cigarette onto my chest. Now mind you even Gorillas point at me and laugh when I go to the zoo and say , "Wow look at that hairy brute". It isn't funny. I am covered with fur. SO I watch as this ember smolders a bit and then it just flew in a cloud of blue haze and smoke and began to burn up all my chest hair. It was so fast, like gasoline, it just spread and my hair burnt into little black cinders. It left all sorts of nasty yellow blisters that have since broken open. It was disgusting, stupid cigarettes. My friend JR came to my room to see if I wanted to go eat at Beef and Beer and immediately detected the awful stench. It was horrible. Just awful. And I got shot before. So what is someone doing smoking in bed and putting tattoos on themselves?
      Let me tell you because I am mad and want to rant. See I am trash. I am common street trash. And it is by choice. I came from a good home. My folks are so square. I was thinking about it today and I realize that my dad has only ever done the "wrong thing" once in his life that I know of. We were going to my fathers parents house and my dad always drove one of those great big vans for some reason. So he clips these peoples mailbox and it goes flying onto the road, So I look and the people aren't home, so I say, "take off they aren't home", so my dad took off but the next day he went back and got them a new mailbox. Seriously that is the only thing wrong my dad ever did. All my grandparents are squares too, typical people proud of the fact that they obey the law and pay their bills on time. I hate people like that because it is the respectable middle classes, the arch-consumers that allow our effed up world to stay on its orbit. These little people that think the right thing to do is be straight and productive and honorable while they slave away for the rich people that give us wars and famine? You think Saddam let his Anthrax go to kill some school teacher or bank teller or the custodian in Bush's office? See I am a communist, I became a communist my Freshman year at Dartmouth. Oh, no it wasn't a liberal prof and some history class that did it, it was just being there with all the high and mighty rich people. And I beat them, I ran them, I was better than them but they never let me forget that a Grocery Store manager's son was not welcome in their hollowed halls. I guess they won. I left and they stayed. So I did some bad things a few times, things I still think about whenever I have to pay my electric bill or my car payment. I think of these bad things I did and I feel better. Stuff that just totally pisses of polite society, horrendous stuff that is even worse even though it was 4 years before September 11. And if the only th
      ing I can do to offend the rich people and their mindless minions that keep them in power is descecrate my own flesh with ink and smoke nasty cigarettes, it is what I will do. And if smoking Frenchy cigarettes improves my chances of taking some dirty harlot home from Cinderella's in downtown Ashtabula, Ohio, than so be it. I want to live like an animal and sleep with foul women because it is the furthest thing from doing what these people want me to do. Everyone rides me because I have done nothing with my life. Well my brain is not for rent. The railroad can send me out there and work but the hell with them, I will not find a cure for cancer or do anything to make these war whores any better off and happy. Anyone who goes along with society is just as guilty. Tommorrow I am going to take a dancer to the Guggenheim and I am going to lay her out right in the museum while the rich people can watch. Then we will smoke these French cigarettes just to show we do not care


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