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22 December 2023
WHERE OUR MADCAP MAN OF THE HOUR GOES POSTAL AND GETS FRANK WITH KNUCKLEHEADS IN HIGH PLACES.
This month frank wrote to the cancer merchants at PHILIP MORRIS. I know, we all smoke. But it is pretty fucked up.
Dear Marlboro Men (and Women),
My grandfather died from lung and throat cancer one year ago today. He was a lifelong Marlboro Man if ever there was one. I was fortunate enough to be there with him in his final moments. He lay in his bed, surrounded by Marlboro products he had collected over the years: four sweatshirts, a beer caddy, 23 lighters and a pair of cigarette-burned boxers. He regaled me with a tale of the smoker’s Holy Grail: the Marlboro Gear Pool Table. A resplendent red velvet prize for those who were man enough to suck down 1,000,000 Miles of nicotine. Tears welled in his eyes as he told me of its magnificent splendor. At first I thought perhaps it was just the unbearable agony and pain caused by his liquefying, blackened lungs. But the table truly brought forth a wellspring of emotion. You see, his lifelong dream was to own his own pool table. His final words: “Son, if you’re gonna smoke make sure you get more than a lousy damn sweatshirt out of it.” Then his head burst into flames, the result of the three burnt down, smoldering Reds stuffed into his trachea box, which I failed to notice in my grief. I vowed from that day forth to make grandpa proud and immediately set to the task of honoring his memory by getting that pool table. I quickly did the math and discovered that I would only have to smoke a mere 11,236 cigarettes (a little over 56 cartons) a day for one year to meet my goal. Obviously, I knew I’d need some help to accomplish this nearly insurmountable task. Sadly, I lived with no other adults. It’s just my hamster Lucky, my dog Strike, and the babies I stole from the hospital after grandpa died. But, by God, I wasn’t about to let the old man down! So, some 4,000,000 cigarettes, 23 separate collapsed lungs, two dead pets and 20 deceased babies later (it’s OK, the kids weren’t mine), I finally collected 1,000,000 Marlboro Miles. The problem is, it seems you have discontinued the pool table from your list of products. I was hoping that perhaps you could see fit to find me one anyway, as I believe the table could be easily converted into an oxygen tent, which I now so desperately need.
Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,
frank putzerelli
DO YOU KNOW A PERSON OR COMPANY THAT YOU THINK FRANK SHOULD WRITE TO? IF SO, EMAIL HIM AT FRANK@TLCHICKEN.COM
This month frank wrote to the cancer merchants at PHILIP MORRIS. I know, we all smoke. But it is pretty fucked up.
Dear Marlboro Men (and Women),
My grandfather died from lung and throat cancer one year ago today. He was a lifelong Marlboro Man if ever there was one. I was fortunate enough to be there with him in his final moments. He lay in his bed, surrounded by Marlboro products he had collected over the years: four sweatshirts, a beer caddy, 23 lighters and a pair of cigarette-burned boxers. He regaled me with a tale of the smoker’s Holy Grail: the Marlboro Gear Pool Table. A resplendent red velvet prize for those who were man enough to suck down 1,000,000 Miles of nicotine. Tears welled in his eyes as he told me of its magnificent splendor. At first I thought perhaps it was just the unbearable agony and pain caused by his liquefying, blackened lungs. But the table truly brought forth a wellspring of emotion. You see, his lifelong dream was to own his own pool table. His final words: “Son, if you’re gonna smoke make sure you get more than a lousy damn sweatshirt out of it.” Then his head burst into flames, the result of the three burnt down, smoldering Reds stuffed into his trachea box, which I failed to notice in my grief. I vowed from that day forth to make grandpa proud and immediately set to the task of honoring his memory by getting that pool table. I quickly did the math and discovered that I would only have to smoke a mere 11,236 cigarettes (a little over 56 cartons) a day for one year to meet my goal. Obviously, I knew I’d need some help to accomplish this nearly insurmountable task. Sadly, I lived with no other adults. It’s just my hamster Lucky, my dog Strike, and the babies I stole from the hospital after grandpa died. But, by God, I wasn’t about to let the old man down! So, some 4,000,000 cigarettes, 23 separate collapsed lungs, two dead pets and 20 deceased babies later (it’s OK, the kids weren’t mine), I finally collected 1,000,000 Marlboro Miles. The problem is, it seems you have discontinued the pool table from your list of products. I was hoping that perhaps you could see fit to find me one anyway, as I believe the table could be easily converted into an oxygen tent, which I now so desperately need.
Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,
frank putzerelli
DO YOU KNOW A PERSON OR COMPANY THAT YOU THINK FRANK SHOULD WRITE TO? IF SO, EMAIL HIM AT FRANK@TLCHICKEN.COM
artid
87
Old Image
4_5_putz.swf
issue
vol 4 - issue 05 (jan 2002)
section
stories