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.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

NASTY SMELLY WEIRDOES

There are no tattooed or pierced men in the local pipe club. Yes, a few of the members have a degenerate fondness for some mighty peculiar blends, but not a single one smokes Molto Dolce. This nicely substantiates my theory that there are two types of pipe-smokers: those who are calm and thoughtful types, versus elves and hobbits, OR, depending on your point of view, batshit Gandalf with spikes as opposed to Bertrand Russell.

The pierced and tattooed individuals, clearly, do not play well with others.
Their pipe is a style-statement, and proof that they are rebellious and artistic. Oh, such lone wolves, and bohemians.
Basement dwellers.

Hence, of course, their fondness for aromatics.
Nothing says "unique" like a fruit-loop stench.

But, as I said, none such in the club. No tattoos. No tribal body art.
No Viking-themed personal aesthetic preferences.
Not a goth in the bunch.


I also seriously doubt that any one of our little coterie could ever be caught dead yowling at televised wrestling, or snarfing pizza and beer with other men while the game is on.


There are a few who have some doubtful tastes, even borderline odd, but there are no punks, perverts, religious nuts, dungeon masters, wiccans and satanists, or raging over-the-top artistic types. We are a refreshingly normal bunch, more-than-average thoughtful and rational, with well-considered opinions and clearly expressed ideas.

Well, excepting myself, of course. You've seen evidence to the contrary in my case on this blog. But I am calmer when around live humans.

Yet I too avoid aromatics. Most of the time. Occasionally I indulge in very private perfumed perversion -- Erinmore Flake, 1792 Flake, or Peterson's University Flake -- but I do not normally do so, and I always feel slightly unclean afterwards.












Most flakes are very well behaved tobaccos.
As are old-fashioned Balkan mixtures.
Restrained, thoughtful, subtle.



And that, my dears, is how you should always choose your pipesmoker.
Is he an intelligent and rational man? Or is he a raving "individualist" who is embarrassing to be around? Does he make you feel interesting and appreciated, or unclean by association?

Is it all about him?

Does his tobacco smell like a candy factory?

Is his pipe rancid?




AFTER WORD

There are, of course, exceptions. A large Lesbian I met a while ago has good feelings about an aromatic that smells like fresh juicy green apples.
Perhaps her father was a pervert who smoked that, I don't know and I'm not asking questions. The point is that many people including several (!) pipe-smokers have absurdly fond smell-memories -- for instance Scottish Blend, by Royal Theodorus Niemeyer B.V., which was my first pipe tobacco, or Niemeyer's Irish Blend, which I also tried -- and conversely some really severe Protestant bastards like rich mixtures redolent of the Levant.
A slobbery old git I once knew smoked Virginia and Perique.

Troost and Amphora have their place.

And a very reliable, irritatingly rational at times, person whom I see often, loads his pipe with a succession of thoroughly nasty aros, and it isn't just to irritate people of good taste. He actually likes that stuff.
He's also fond of Operas and Latin music.
There may be a connection.




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