Fakename loves her city and her neighborhood. Let’s consider the following:
Now being ever on the hunt for cigarettes she can tolerate…oh please, just read my blog regarding the return of Prohibition to America so I don’t have to say it all again. But I will add this, regardless of the fact that the Cambridge Filter Method is flawed, it’s still true that some cigarettes have less tar and nicotine than others. I’ve now temporarily switched to Virginia Slims, whose package asks me to please not litter. In the big scheme of life, is this really the message you want to send?
In any case, I visited the convenience store/gas station in my neighborhood, a block and a half away. The owner (operator?) is from the Central African Republic, which causes me to hope that he’s a refugee as opposed to a machete-wielding escapee from justice. Granted, the CAR does not hold a candle to Rwanda and Burundi, but it’s in a bad place, landlocked as it is between Chad, Sudan, the two Congos, and Cameroon.
I’d kind of like to ask if he’s a refugee or an escapee, but that seems to be a bit rude, even for Fakename, who is not above jumping into conversations which are none of her business. Though, thankfully for society, I don’t do it often. So the most I can say for sure is that he and his employees are very customer-service oriented, and have lovely lilting accents. On top of which, their radio is tuned to NPR, and no one who listens to NPR can be all bad.