BALLS OF PSYCHEDELIC SKUNK FUR
And naturally it's unavailable here in the United States. Where almost all of us pipesmokers are cast out into the outer darkness, which is cold, and where scant civilized company can be found. Smoking is something that we can only do when out in the shed at the back of the extensive garden when our children, helpmeets, and disgustingly irritating non-smoking neighbors are fast asleep.
A garden which might well look like the one in the video below, if you live in San Francisco where sixteen days out of every fortnight icy gales blow in from the ocean. Good lord it's buggery frigid here, no wonder we're surrounded by pushy do-gooders and wheatgerm snarfing earthmoms!
SLOW-BURNING SATISFYING ST. BRUNO
Doesn't he look happy when the new supply of tobacco arrives? No angry Berkeleyite busybodies around, a tolerant and understanding canine who brings him tobacco, and a cosy garden shed far from the madding crowd.
Ah, peace at last.
Wouldn't be surprised if that sweater reeks a bit. Given that he probably spends a lot of time in the shed, where there is no running water (pipes frozen solid) and no washing machine.
But the dog probably likes it.
Smells like home.
Just for the heck of it, here's another.
THAT PRECIOUS CONDOR MOMENT
Makes you wonder how on earth our society ended up so blisteringly condemning and rigid, doesn't it? Oh, except for "medicinal marijuana", which that many Californians huff that the air all over Berkeley, San Fran bloody cisco, and San Raphael in Marin is so blue with tetra-hydro-cannabinolic allergens that normal people can't breathe without hacking up balls of psychedelic skunk fur.
Medicinal, my aunt.
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