At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, July 20, 2014


I am in receipt of an unusual communication. It represents the response a cigar-smoking friend sent following a request to be added to someone's LinkedIn contact list. I shall reproduce it below, with edits to protect the innocent.

Dear Spanker,

Please tell those motherless f8ck monkeys in corporate syndication: "Enough already!"


Sent from my Verizon Wireless Blackberry

What makes it remarkable is that I know the man who sent it and therefore understand that at least forty other individuals were also courtesy-copied on this simple message.

Only two of those forty plus are NOT cigar smokers.
We are pipe smokers. Two exceptions.
Indeed, we are blessed.

Both mister Spanker and mister Dingo are cigar smokers.
As is the person who originated the LinkedIn request.
Memo to self: don't taunt cigar smokers; they bite.

I spend half of each week in the proximal vicinity of cigar smokers, and consequently fear for my own sanity. It cannot be healthy, never mind the hail-fellow-well-met character of their company.

Unlike pipes, cigars and their aficionados have scant appeal to the gentler sex. Possibly it is because of the misplaced machismo that most stogey-huffers radiate, more likely their lack of refinement plays a deciding part.
When women think of men with cheroots, they automatically envision hairy unshaven men with paunches, body lice, beer-bellies, and crotch odour. And rightly so!

Men with briars, on the other hand, make them remember their favourite fellow-students, plus handsome scholars, refined mature human beings, and just all-round decent chaps with sound morals, civilized habits, and realistic standards of personal hygiene.
In fact, rational women, and even daring young ladies, naturally prefer the company of pipe smokers over cigar smokers by at least twenty to one.
The exception, unlike the nineteen others, has a plumber fixation.
Perhaps she needs therapy, more likely de-programming.


An internet search for "cigar smoking women" turned up several hundred porno sites, plus numerous snuff films, and ranting teapartiers. Whereas "pipe smoking women" found a thesaurus, literary criticism, an article about lobster, eBay, and a badger.

The conclusion is clear: date a pipe smoker.
Contact me, I know how it's done.


On Mondays and Tuesdays I am nowhere near cigar smokers. It is a welcome break, and I look forward to meeting real people.
Or washing my hair and doing laundry.


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



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