HELLO KITTY BACKPACK

This blogger is now the proud possessor of an item of just the right size. That being a Hello Kitty backpack, suitable for carrying up to eight briars, three or four pipe tobaccos, a big bundle of cleaners (mixed: standard, bristly, and the tapered German jobbies that have both hard and absorbent cotton, and make your pipe a happy camper), plus two tampers, matches, and a small paperback book (trashy fiction). And a cigar sleeve.
I am, in fact, equipped to take on the wilderness.
Or Marin county; a wasteland.

There's even a side-pocket for water.
In case I get dehydrated.
In Marin.


So far the responses have been overwhelmingly positive. Most people appreciate the gestalt, and instantly grasp the bifurcated message.


Thus: 'What do you think when you see a middle-aged fellow with a Hello Kitty pursey? You think either he's a friendly old sort, good with kiddies and little animals, OR he's batshit crazy and packing a piece. But you just don't know.'


Please understand that a Hello Kitty backpack on a middle-aged male radiates self-confidence and maturity.
Bucket loads of it.

Conceivably it is also quite unlikely that anyone would steal this attractive item. Other than a three-foot tall person, that is, but I can easily outrun the little criminal. And at that age her nails aren't hard enough or sharpened, so she can't do much damage.

The contents of the bag will establish my innocence; would a six year old carry around a supply of smoking equipment and fine Virginians?

No, I really don't think so.
That's my man purse.
Now back off.

I feel empowered.


TOBACCO INDEX


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