The strongest memories of my father are him with Fags, so
that’s what I’m thankful for today. He always had them with him; at work, at
home, on vacation, it didn't matter. I never really cared for them much myself,
but I remember going to the UK and people asking me if I knew where they could
find them. I always told them Kentucky, because we produced more fags there
than they had in their entire country. The scent of a nice, strong fag brings
back a lot of memories.
God hates fags,
because they cause cancer.