It takes more than just a bad attitude to be a rebel. You have to pop the collar on your motorcycle jacket. You have to slick back your hair with a fine-toothed comb. And you have to slip a pack of smokes from your back pocket -- you know, the kind of smokes that are made from real milk chocolate, individually wrapped in paper wrappers that cement your devil-may-care image.

You’re bad to the bone, all right. But somehow you have such good taste.