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.

Monday, September 08, 2014


I think I may have turned a crotchet at a very young age: fourteen. That was when I finally started buying tobacco to shove into the pipe I bought several weeks earlier, when I was thirteen. As you would expect, within less than a month I was complaining that nothing was the same anymore boy back in my day sonny oh yes!

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.

Almost pongless.

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!

Hot dawg!

And we smell good.

It's like we're magic, or something.

With a mysterious background hint of tropical fruits.


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