At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


One of the people in our little Bay Area cell of the Vast Zionist Conspiracy co-hosts a blog.

It is an interesting blog. See here:
It will become more interesting with use.

Both cohosts are in their teens. Both cohosts are intelligent. One of the cohosts will probably end up smoking a pipe. What's not to like?

The pipe-smoking may even start sometime this summer, once I hook his dad up with some of GLPease's Westminster mixture and Kensington mixture. And once it is certain that there are working briars in the house.

No, I am NOT corrupting a young person!
I have plausible deniability. Once the tobacco has been introduced into the household it ain't my business what happens next.


I started smoking a pipe when I was fourteen. I always parked my bicycle in front of the tobacconists whenever I went to Priem's bookstore (which was several times a week). For nearly two months that summer I saw a pipe in the window display that I liked. So I finally bought it. That was the first time I had ever been at a tobacconists.
About a month later I finally bought some tobacco. Several weeks after that the cat discovered my pipes and tobacco underneath a cabinet in the downstairs living room, and the jig was up.

That evening, I got a very stern lecture from my mother about THE ! EVILS ! OF ! SMOKING !
Tobacco kills. Emphysema. Lung cancer. Mouth kankers. Throat disease. Asthma. Indigestion. Moral turpitude. Lack of sex-appeal. Stunted growth. Decay, depravity, decadence. Fie fie fie!

She smoked three cigarettes during the harangue.

Once she had finished, she turned me over to my dad for another lecture.

He told me sternly to 'utterly avoid sauced tobaccos, because a good product does not need a candy stench to be enjoyable. Cheap perfumed tobaccos do not taste good, and smell like a Turkish cat house'.

Having said what he felt was important, he returned to his book.

I've been smoking good tobacco ever since.

I admire the breadth of his experience.


NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.



  • At 9:05 PM, Blogger Avi Schwartz said…

    kickass. not only do i get a link i get a whole post.
    God bless the conspiracy

  • At 11:28 PM, Blogger charismatic megafauna said…

    What's with SFV4I and corrupting minors?!

  • At 11:30 PM, Blogger Spiros said…

    My attention may have wandered towards the beginning of your last: did the cat throw up in your pipe, the way Kinky Friedman's cat threw up in his JFK-shaped Meerschaum?

  • At 9:52 AM, Blogger Tzipporah said…

    While your father was undoubtedly correct about the evils of sauced tobaccos, I had a mild addiction to clove cigarettes in my 20's. A friend and I spent a few evenings in Jerusalem railing against the idiocy of a state which would declare such cigarettes a "drug" and prevent their import, leaving us with nothing but plain old cigs.

    We eventually cadged some from a young Canadian on our dig site that summer, who had brought them in surreptitiously. We rejoiced greatly.

    Bad Cohen made me stop roughly 9 years ago. Good man.

  • At 3:53 PM, Blogger Spiros said…

    Clove cigarettes...don't get me started.
    When I was in high school (back in the late Pleistecine), seemingly all of the attractive, intelligent girls smoked a brand called (appositely) Krakatoa.
    It speaks volumes for my upbringing that this didn't turn me into a misogynist.

  • At 3:58 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    Gotcha started.



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