No mystery here – ask him, he’ll happily confess:
“I don’t smoke a lot, but when I do, I smoke nothing but Cody Wyoming, West facing slope, prairie blue-sage and moose-$hit infused weed; rolled in heavy brown Palouse, dark Whiskey soaked paper, between the ample, and never-exposed-to-the-sun, white thighs of mid-twenties Provo Utah girls“.
But then why would anyone expect anything else?
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