THAT RICH MANLY SMELL, THERE'S NOTHING LIKE IT!
Women were blonder, and boobs still had magic!
The sky was more cloudless then too.
I cannot remember which pipe tobacco I smoked before Erinmore Flake, but it was probably either Niemeyer Scottish Mixture or Niemeyer Irish mixture. Whatever the case, it did not make me vomit.
That role was reserved for Erinmore.
Twice. Forsooth, I say!
I should mention that I presently have about three dozen tins of it. Underneath that fruity top-dressing, it's actually a very sound albeit hefty flake. The perfume burns off within moments, and if you smoke it with calmness, it is quite satisfying and yields a fine white ash.
It is surprisingly subtle.
But smoke it very slowly.
Almost on the cusp of going out.
If you don't, perhaps you too will barf.
I mention all this to highlight the fact that despite the constant stream of whiners comparing the past to today's horrid situation, vis–à–vis smoking and the availability of fine addictive substances, we actually live in a golden age. More fine tobacco is available now than ever before, and because all the fatso hairy-chested gold-chain-wearing vulgarians are huffing expensive stogies to show off their wealth and fantasy penis-size, we no longer have to worry about pimp-styling cretins ruining our reputation in the eyes of young impressionable people.
Break out the champagne, Cletus.
We iz become cool again!
And we smell good.
It's like we're magic, or something.
With a mysterious background hint of tropical fruits.
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