I don't know why but I inhale. Cigars, pipes, a vase of flowers, it's all the same. I suck them in. I'd be planted in my vibrating recliner and my father would stop by to eat because he never once made a meal and in fact had a hard time pouring milk into a glass all by himself. I knew why he was there, he knew why he was there, he knew I knew and I knew he knew I knew.
But when I slounge back with a cigar that has hit the glee button I don't like moving for a while. I don't say, "good cigar", because I haven't a clue as to what good is. I've belonged to cigar clubs,
smoked Havanas until I had to stop or puke, and really do like some of the Dominican variations but I've tried GOOD ones that sucked and POOR ones that I couldn't get enough of.
So the OLD MAN would wait, not patiently, he didn't give good patient, until I was done frenching a stogey, and it was always just a matter of time before he'd make mention.
"You inhale. Why do you inhale a cigar?"
I'd ALWAYS answer the same way because he knew I inhaled and I knew, but let's not get into that again.
"What."
No question mark at the end. No raised or lowered eyebrows to lend emphasis to my misunderstanding of a simple interrogatory. I inhaled. I inhale everything. Since my first shot at those bubble-gum cigars I even inhaled them before chewing. But he knew that if I suddenly clicked out of ENJOYMENT MODE, the chances were good that I'd heat some pots and pans without ado most further.
"What do you mean ,what? You inhale."
"I inhale."
"You're not suppossed to inhale cigars. How can you enjoy a cigar with all that smoke in your lungs?"
"Look at it this way, it filters the smoke from the room so you don't have to breathe it too."
"That's dumber than inhaling..."
And so it would go. Now I'm sitting here enjoying (inhaling) a Joya Del Rey Robusto that I got so dirt cheap I'm ashamed of myself. Roman Catholic guilt never diminishes even a tad of a scintilla, and I know that there are starving cigar smokers in China I should be sending these to but I won't.
So with that in mind, here's this weeks CIGAR RECOMMENDATION.
Joya Del Rey Robusto (4 3/4 X 50). Some fool of a friend ordered them and was disappointed because he thought he had purchased a much longer cigar, and didn't even think to light one up. Cool ass glass tubes, too. Great for saving dimes. If your local tobacconist doesn't stock them he can order them. Failing that, Google is your friend.
Try some and don't be afraid to inhale. They don't do so in the movies because it's Scene 3, Take 497, and nobody can go through that and still inhale.
But of course a Churchill variant is fine, too.
But when I slounge back with a cigar that has hit the glee button I don't like moving for a while. I don't say, "good cigar", because I haven't a clue as to what good is. I've belonged to cigar clubs,
smoked Havanas until I had to stop or puke, and really do like some of the Dominican variations but I've tried GOOD ones that sucked and POOR ones that I couldn't get enough of.
So the OLD MAN would wait, not patiently, he didn't give good patient, until I was done frenching a stogey, and it was always just a matter of time before he'd make mention.
"You inhale. Why do you inhale a cigar?"
I'd ALWAYS answer the same way because he knew I inhaled and I knew, but let's not get into that again.
"What."
No question mark at the end. No raised or lowered eyebrows to lend emphasis to my misunderstanding of a simple interrogatory. I inhaled. I inhale everything. Since my first shot at those bubble-gum cigars I even inhaled them before chewing. But he knew that if I suddenly clicked out of ENJOYMENT MODE, the chances were good that I'd heat some pots and pans without ado most further.
"What do you mean ,what? You inhale."
"I inhale."
"You're not suppossed to inhale cigars. How can you enjoy a cigar with all that smoke in your lungs?"
"Look at it this way, it filters the smoke from the room so you don't have to breathe it too."
"That's dumber than inhaling..."
And so it would go. Now I'm sitting here enjoying (inhaling) a Joya Del Rey Robusto that I got so dirt cheap I'm ashamed of myself. Roman Catholic guilt never diminishes even a tad of a scintilla, and I know that there are starving cigar smokers in China I should be sending these to but I won't.
So with that in mind, here's this weeks CIGAR RECOMMENDATION.
Joya Del Rey Robusto (4 3/4 X 50). Some fool of a friend ordered them and was disappointed because he thought he had purchased a much longer cigar, and didn't even think to light one up. Cool ass glass tubes, too. Great for saving dimes. If your local tobacconist doesn't stock them he can order them. Failing that, Google is your friend.
Try some and don't be afraid to inhale. They don't do so in the movies because it's Scene 3, Take 497, and nobody can go through that and still inhale.
But of course a Churchill variant is fine, too.
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