At the behest of a friend of mine, (actually a multi-year harangue), I went out and purchased a canister of snuff. For those who don’t know what snuff is, it is a powered tobacco product administered into your blood stream via small piles snorted into the nostrils. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.
He pontificated on and on about how great it was, what a wonderful buzz one receives from it, and just an all around gushing rant of praise.
When I was a teenager, a group of us went to the local Head Shop and bought some snuff. We sniffed it, we sneezed it, we tossed it. That was it for that god-awful substance. What the hell was the point?
Well, I finally gave in and determined to give it another shot. After much searching and perusing the Yellow Pages, and quite a few calls to smoke shops, I finally found a cigar store that carried this apparently rare olfactory delicacy.
I obtained the precious treasure, moved quickly to my car, opened the small can, and sniffed away. I immediately understood what the hoopla was all about…
Sorry, I’m back, I had to stop and take a quick sniff. Anyway, I got religion now. Snuff is a wonderful substance. It has lived up to everything my buddy claimed on its behalf.
Well, I gotta go. I suddenly have this strange urge to smoke a cigarette. Go figure.
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