1993 Misty cigarette ad
Hemp or marijuana
DeMille He could die happily ever after Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul To the old folks' home and the college Now, I wish I could write you a melody so plain That could hold you, dear lady, from going insane That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain Of your useless and pointless knowledge Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues Tonight You Belong to Me ( Words & Music by Billy Rose & Lee David, 1926 / Live 2005 ) I know you belong to somebody new But tonight you belong to me Although we're apart You're part of my heart And tonight you belong to me Way down By the stream How sweet It will seem Once more Just to dream In the moonlight My honey I know With the dawn That you will be gone, But tonight you belong to me Way down, way down along the stream How very very sweet it will seem Once more just to dream In the silvery moonlight My honey I know With the dawn That you will be gone But tonight you belong to me Just to little old me Trump's nuts roasting on an open fire Trump's nuts roasting on an open fire As he keeps nipping at his foes You'll cry creepy uncle Every time he arrives For he keeps clawing at your clothes Everybody knows some money and entitlement Can help to make the season white Mothers of color with their kids out of sight Will find it hard to sleep at night They know that Trump is on his way He's got black boys in hoodies locked up on his sleigh And every working man is going to cry When they learn that Letch don't care how you live or if you die So I'm offering this simple phrase To kids from 1 to 92 Although it's been said many times, many ways Merry Christmas to you Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas Donald Trump, fuck you Use me ( Bill Withers / Live ) My friends Feel it's their appointed duty They keep trying to tell me All you want to do is use me But my answer They know all that use me stuff Yes, I wanna spread the news That if it feels this good gettin' used But you just keep on using me Until you use me up My brother Sit me right down and he talk to me Yeah he told me That I ought not to let you just fuck on me And I know, I know that my brother he meant well But also know when our talk was through And I said brother If you only knew You'd wish that you were in my shoes You keep on using me You keep on using me Until you use me up Until you use me up It's true you really do abuse me You git me in a crowd a high class people And then you act real rude to me I I I
This can lead to hyperglycemia, or too much sugar in the blood
It has become my custom to read each of Andrew Klavans Cameron Winter novels twice, as I find them peculiarly suited to my emotional world (which is not to claim that I am anything like Winter, who is, for instance, both dangerous and attractive to women)
