I consider my self a bastion of masculinity. Among my many facets and skills that I have both been blessed with by God above and have acquired with some strength of character through the years would be my masteries of falconing, rock identification, navigation by the stars, assembly language (the higher level languages being fit only for those both weak of heart and character), my keen eye with a hatchet, twine haggling (as my father would say, only Women and Lutherans over pay for twine), horse breeding, and the preparation of the Staff of Life itself by hand. The most prized of which I must say exemplarizes the attributes of the rugged sex is my steadfast dedication to "putting away" not less than One pack of Marlboro Full Flavor cigarettes per day. Thus it has come as a shock to discover that this rugged brand began it's course by courting the favor of the domestic house wife.
As Mild as May indeed! I must say that in the inhalation of the Full Flavored Marlboro I find nothing mild or spring like. Indeed the experience is delightfully harsh and invigorating to such a degree that it is like standing upon the precipitous lip of a volcano nearing it's eruption whilst being surrounded by musket men emptying their barrels. I can only theorize that the visceral and brutal thrill of the Marlboro proved to be too much for these poor housewives, with the intense exhilaration resulting in symptoms of Moral Fatigue. It is a boon for our culture that Philip Morris himself realized the degree of his mis-step and rightfully rerouted the course of his signature brand. One can only imagine the world of gravelly throated housewives fist fighting in the aisles of the green grocer, nursing their children while bare back horse riding, and splitting their own wood for use in the hearth-fires that may have resulted.
