SCREAMING SOCIAL JUSTICE DRAGONS

One of yesterday's brightest moments, amid the hurley burley of fat headed privileged outrage over one of those people bringing up something that happened so long ago and was just boyish playfulness anyway, was the gentleman who talked of something other than what was on teevee.
I always appreciate it when there are visitors like that.
Most days it's just sports and politics.
Opinionated, uninformed.


As, naturally, one would expect from any group, but particularly those folks. Privilege and hard work got them where they are, plus caucasianity and the right friends. Surely they are justified about everything?

It's a group dynamic, and just like any herd they will nip savagely at the heels of the least representative cow, till at last he falls over and his putrefying carcass pollutes the communal watering hole.

Sorry, that metaphor was perfectly beastly.

Rabid bovine hyenas.


The gentleman who talked of "something other" plans to retire in a few years, and then pursue his hobby of prospecting and panning for nuggets up in the foothills, far away from civilization. It's an idea that intellectually appeals to me, along with the related concept of withdrawing to a shack in the delta, sitting on my porch, and shooting varmints and tourists.

"Don't go there, grampa Atboth is settin' in his rocking chair smoking a corncob pipe with his shotgun on his lap."

Anyone wearing a Planet Hollywood tee-shirt doesn't get a warning shot.
Same goes for baseball caps and sports jerseys.

The only fly that arose in the ointment of his glowing description was the smell of his pipe tobacco, that being a cherry-flavoured abortion.

I fiercely disapprove of aromatic tobaccos, advocating instead that you should smoke a nice clean product, like a Virginia and Perique blend or an old-fashioned Latakia mixture. And I have to doubt that the gold miners he seeks to emulate ever touched that ghastly perfumed shite.

Cherry Cavendish is the stench of the portal to hell.

But, seeing as the Marin County supervisors wish to ban all sweetened tobaccos because of the children, as well as menthol cigarettes because too many black people(*) smoke them, I couldn't call him on his heresy.
Go ahead, huff that crap. You are an example for the kids!
All the little tykes will emulate you.


The time is not far off when children will ONLY find solidly stodgy pipe tobaccos available to them, and they'll be enjoying Capstan, Three Nuns, and Arango's Superior Balkan (an exceptionally fine full Latakia blend, similar to what college boys smoked back in the golden age).
And I, personally, look forward to that day.
Nothing but clean tobacco!

Just imagine all those kids sporting tweed coats and fine briars!
Neglecting team sports in favour of civilized norms.
As well as avoiding beer, obviously.
Just tea and tobacco.
Sanity.


An ideal world. Pity that tobacco costs so much nowadays, though. Their parents will just have to make sure their weekly allowances are substantial enough to cover the twenty or thirty dollars it will take to keep them supplied with Esoterica's Margate or Germain's Latakia Flake, plus pipe cleaners, for seven days. I remember when I was a teenager that making that precious tin of tobacco stretch till next my allowance was always an iffy struggle.
More than anything, it taught me the value of money.
Inculcated a temperate attitude.
And sound judgment.



Teenagers should not drink beer or smoke Vanilla-Strudel, obviously.
Pumpkin Spice Cavendish and Bright Honey Ribbon are equally nasty.
That way lies madness plus candy coffee at hip chains with wifi.
And god forbid, herbal fruity teas.


(*) In educated Marin, ANY black people are too many.
A reason to ban menthol cigarettes!

TOBACCO INDEX


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