The Hearty Robustness of a Chesterfield.
Corporate money is a big part of the modern Presidential Campaign. Without the infusion of millions of special-interest dollars, it is virtually impossible to gain office in America. In a recent discussion, Anselmo and I decided that I should be more aggressive in trying to gain corporate sponsorship. I could have sworn that my loyalty to the Buick brand would have brought me a small taste of GM’s endless success, but it hasn’t happened yet. Anselmo suggested that I try and court a source that has a greater stake in today’s political climate. We discussed several options, including the oil, chemical, and abortion industries, but none seemed to be a good fit. Finally, though, we settled on society’s favorite pitiful old punching-bag, Big Tobacco.
Up until a week ago, I had never had a cigarette, so I was a bit nervous when I went to the tobacco store. Boy, there were so many brands that I was really intimidated. I bought a carton of each, shut myself up in my man-cave, and smoked myself silly. There were a few intriguing options, but in the end, the choice was clear: Chesterfield. I now join the long and prestigious list of formerly living people who have touted this mellow smoke, a roster that includes James Dean, Humphrey Bogart, Rod Serling, Leona Helmsley, and others. As they would tell you (were their dead, blackened throats not clogged with maggots), chief among this brand’s strengths are it’s stoutness of flavor, mildness of aroma, and filterlessness of tip.
I was blown away by the merits of this brand. For example, I find sexual intercourse more pleasurable before a Chesterfield. Peggy is not immune to the effects either; her orgasms are more robust and flavorful when I smoke one of these mild gems just after making whoopee. Speaking of flavor, these things are full of it. Sometimes, I’ll suck a fag all night and still feel unfulfilled. Not so with a “Chesty.” These stout butts always leave me satisfied. Also, Chesterfields leave my breath smelling moderately less like a dead homeless man’s anus than the other brands. Peggy must notice it too, since she vomits somewhat less frequently when we get intimate. I credit that special blend of premium Carolina tobaccos for those blessings; a blend whose smoke also gives my nails a classic tinge of well-aged bronze, and my face the toughness and durability of the finest Cordovan leather boots.
Chesterfields are also the most virile cigarette available. As a real man, I appreciate that the fine craftsmen who put together these beauts don’t futz around with no filters. To me, filters are like condoms: they ruin the sensation, they spoil the mood, and I usually pull them off when no one’s looking.
I’ve only smoked them for a week, but it already feels like it’s been decades. I’ve even developed a great booming cough as a testament to my increased strength and manliness. It’s a cough that says “you better not mess with me fella, I’m a Chesterfield man.” I’ve also been producing a fair amount of a rich, dark, phlegm. This isn’t your ordinary phlegm, though, like the kind you might find around the house. Like the discriminating man who chooses Chesterfield, this phlegm refuses to be ignored. Within a few weeks (if I’m lucky), I hope to be hacking up loads of the stuff. And from what I hear, I have plenty else to look forward to as well: the mild heartiness of a Chesterfield tumor is unmatched.
Whenever I discover a product that delivers this much satisfaction, I always feel like I owe the manufacturer something special; something over and above the purchase price. For example, I once bought some Chicken McNuggets at a restaurant whose name I won’t mention. They were so good, that I went to congratulate the manager. He seemed pretty bummed because the local government was trying to shut him down due to his flagrant and repeated health code violations. Because I liked his product, though, I paid the health inspector $240,000 to look the other way in the future. This is the type of loyalty I bring to the table. In this case, I would like to invite the Altria group to my headquarters, where we can talk about how much I love Chesterfields. Then, we can discuss possible ways in which I could be of service to them.
Hopefully they take me up on my offer; I’ll keep you all posted. In the meantime, smoke on folks!