HELLO KITTY IN BONDAGE VILE

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but at the most recent meeting of the Golden Gate Pipe Club, both Hello Kitty and The Whore of Babylon were referenced. I shall blame Erik Stokkebye for this. And no, this post has nothing to do with pipes, pipe-smoking, pipe-tobacco, or Eric Stokkebye's four new blends that celebrate the history of his family's involvement with the tobacco industry, though I will state that the 1931 flake is both exceptionally pleasant as well as high quality. It will appeal to smokers of both refined and depraved sensibilities, being rather old-fashioned and English in style.
A product that you can imagine yourself smoking on a rainy day somewhere in the north of England, in a town of modest size.

Most members of the club are men, there are some women.
Many of us are past our thirties, some are not.
A good cross-section of people.

And Hello Kitty.

No, the Japanese Anglo-phile Feline is NOT among our ranks. But she could be. Pipe-smoking veers towards a somewhat British mode. Probably because of the many fine British things that pipe-smokers will likely also like: Scotch and Irish Whiskey, Indian curry, French cuisine, and fine Italian leathers.
And Hello Kitty, as is well known, lives just outside of London with her loving family, and enjoys apple pies and afternoon tea.
Her father, by the way, smokes a pipe.
I'm sure she loves how it smells.


HOLY CRAP, A TALKING DOG!

As many of my friends know, mention of Hello Kitty is a frequent occurrence in my circles, one which I am not responsible for -- we're all legally adult, and responsible for our own safety -- but which nevertheless happens more often in my immediate ambit than I am comfortable with. And, given that so much merchandise has been marketed with Hello Kitty's charming image thereupon, I have occasionally expressed bafflement that none of it is geared toward pipe-smokers.
Are we not human? Do we not deserve Hello Kitty pipeholders, tobacco pouches, pipe racks, storage cabinets, tampers, matches, pipe lighters, polishing cloths, tobacco jars, pipe sleeves, and Hello Kitty man-purses with room for six pipes, two tins of tobacco, a tamper, and cleaners?

In December, my friends Mark and Robin gifted me a Hello Kitty.
I have no idea why. It's not like I've mentioned her much.
Hello Kitty is currently examining some of my briars.
There's something acquisitive about her.
Fortunately, she's small.
Controllable.

If Hello Kitty smoked a pipe, I fear that she would lean toward aromatics, as her favourite fragrances are strawberries, apples, and very likely also melon. Clean fresh essences which, unfortunately, are also used in 'perfumes' aimed at a young female audience.
And please note that grown-ups use more discrete smells.
Something with vetiver, or perhaps citrus.
A faint wiff of gardenias.

We desperately need a Hello Kitty aftershave.


Anyhow, we we're discussing Erinmore Flake, and I remarked that it was actually a good pressed Virginia and Air-cured melange, with an unfortunate Hello Kitty top-dressing, that recalled nothing so much as the Whore of Babylon. Within seconds, I had to defend both of those assertions.
How did I know about Hello Kitty perfumes?
What experiences did I have with the Whore of Babylon?

I had to admit that I have had no personal exposure to the Whore of Babylon, as she passed away before my time, and as for the Hello Kitty unguents and bath products, I had sniffed them at the Sanrio store down on Stockton near Market Street several years ago. Purely out of intellectual curiosity. A friend had once mentioned that when she was an adolescent she had briefly dallied with Hello Kitty personal fragrances.
I have no idea why she told me, but people seem encouraged to bring up their Hello Kitty reminiscences when talking to me. I really hope that it isn't because I remind them of Hello Kitty's dad (a pipesmoker with a sense of humour), or her grandfather (who is very wise, and likes to paint).
Perhaps it's my Londonian air?
Or my animal-like radiance.
And charming whiskers.
Can't be my smell.

All of that must however have prompted one of the other members to tell a tale about two horses and a greyhound who entered a drinking establishment, and the bar-keep asked them how their day had been.
The first horse complained that he had been pulling heavy loads all day, his back ached, boy was he tired, how about a pint of Guinness. The second horse said that he had been at the races when a bee stung him, and he ended up bucking his jockey, stampeding into the stands, injuring five children on a school outing, and whacking his knee severely. He hurt, his knee was badly swollen, he could really use a stiff Scotch. No ice.

The dog said "well, I was chasing this electric bunny...."

Whereupon both horses shouted:

"Holy crap, a talking dog!!!"


On second thought, Hello Kitty should join the pipe club. She'd find it quite as lively and cheerful as she herself is, and she would meet new people and make many friends. There might even be apple pie, which she loves.
We could also make a pot of tea.

We're very English, in some ways.


For your information, I only had one glass of port.
It goes well with both flakes and burleys.

TOBACCO INDEX


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