CrackPot letter to Philip Morris

George Weissman, CEO of Philip Morris, kept a file marked "Crack Pot Letters." In this file the following remarkable poem was found, mailed to Mr. Weissman from a man in Grosse Point Park, Michigan in 1986.

February 11, 1986 George Weissman Philip Morris Inc. 120 Park Ave. New York, NY 10017 Dear Mr. Weissman,

The soothing taste of your despicable ware Rolled and sold by those who don't care Centuries ago a ritual of peace You've turned into a murdering thief Subsidies keep the growers content But who also pays the widow's rent Bringing in tax your congressmen claim Supply and demand; no one's to blame Your advertisers prey on dreams they invent To ride the wide range is the road to content Millions of dollars and millions of lives Pave the road you've built over those who have died To foster this addiction, this cancerous stick Takes a soul black as the lungs of the tricked Smokers make up your legion of slaves Pipe dreams in fumes, you kill while they crave Now that there's hope -- many more know much better Do you repress any life saving measure You fought and protested then gave a small label It's weak and unnoticed is why you felt able The fruits of your efforts serve no useful purpose Worse than worthless is the bounty you serve us By combustion and fire is how your work's done Satanic influences blackening innocent lungs We'll cut consumption and gain the farmland we need For the world's nutrition, not poison for greed A fertile idea: We'll blow you asunder With a spit and a curse when we plow you under

Sincerely,

Gary J. Freeman 1352 Bedford Grosse Pte. Pk., MI 48230