My Kilo Americans. Let me Freak to you of a Homegrown Texan, who's Resin to the Highest Possession in this great Hallucination, the original Come-Pushing-It conservative, the Pass-the-Hemp of the Fume-Lighted States, George Drug-Use Bushel.

He grew up near the Mescaline border. These days, he's Hippie-Critical, but Ounce upon a time, he was a Peyote animal. A-Codeine to some sources, he had a Morphine violation, but his Poppy Baled him out, and it never made the Papers. He studied Acid-uously, earned his LSD, and graduated Ganga cum Loaded.

He came home to Marijuana those Texas girls. Then, opportunity Narced: a Grass-roots run for the Opiate Office. His campaign Stoners gave Sinsemilla Dealers, Amphetamine to IV advertising.

But election day was a Heroine experience. The votes were Spliff. The lead Zig-Zagged for weeks. It was Reefer Count Madness! But thanks to the Supreme Snort, he won by a Nose.

He's still Burning the Ropes of the job, with help from Colin Powder, former Head of the the Joint Sheafs of Stash. They're trying to Psychedelic-ate balance between Tokes cuts for the Roach, and helping the Needles, while Cheeching kids to Weed, by giving Tracks dollars to the Free Methodist Prayer Force.

He's on a Roll, and we're all sitting on Ecstasy what he's Cocaine up next. So when you hear Inhale to the Chief, Just say Snow.