Nick O'Teen is the cancer leprechaun chasing a pot of tar at the end of the rainbow.
The filter is to protect the cigarette from your breath.
Smoke menthol. Like lacing your shit with mint.
You are Darwin's proof.
You can't spell "tobacco" without your lungs.
You know all those oldtime movie stars that made smoking sexy? All dead.
Worried about your teeth and fingers turning yellow? Your lungs are dreaming of yellow.
Stop kissing ass. Get the butt from your mouth.
Cancer's cool... if you're a zodiac symbol.
If they put cigarette package warnings on milk, would you pour it on your cereal?
Every cigarette shortens your life by ten minutes. Light up. I want your job.
Light up. You're in my dead pool.
How many roads must a man walk down? Don't worry, we've got oxygen masks.
When someone calls them Cancer Sticks, let's not argue over the semantics of them being "sticks". You don't have time to waste. I'd rather spend our remaining time basking in your asphyxiating musk.
Wow! I remember seeing this show while growing up. Talk about feelgood, up-with-people, saccharin, I-want-to-stab-myself-in-the-eye advice. Sure, I know, it about a time and a place and trying to fill three minutes of Saturday morning kids programming to contrast the cartoons, but I can't help but laugh when a question about a girl not developing is turned into:
"Development is not a race. We each have got a different pace. There's nothing wrong, so don't you fret. Your body's gonna get there yet. And while you let it take that ride, Develop who you are inside."
Thankfully the network gods realized I my mind would turn to mush after more than three minutes of this and reverted back to the New Shmoo, Laff-a-Lympics, Superfriends and Scooby Doo in quick course.
