THE POISONOUS OLD TOAD

Morning smoke: dumb-ass white techno-yupppie generation not wearing masks. Cursed one of them who got too near. See, that's why I carry a stick when outside; it's so that I can hit people.

The dumb-ass may have been surprised at my outburst. Likely he moved here from Alabama, Arkansas, Arizona, Florida, North Carolina, South Carolina, Texas, or Utah, where people believe that masks are a sign of the devil as well communism in action, unconstitutional, and also the imposition of the New World Order.

Proper use of brains is NOT their talent, bless 'em.

They also misuse the word "literally".
.
Literally.

THE PIPE FOR WATCHING RATS IN SPOFFORD ALLEY

Normally I smoke The Pipe For Watching Rats in Spofford Alley on Tuesday evening, this week I did not load it up till early this morning. It's a very nice smoke, as older Comoys tend to be, precisely the kind of pipe sensible men from a kinder and gentler age would smoke. Unfortunately they mostly smoked weird garbage of the sauced Burley and mediocre flue-cured category, because cheap dreck was common.


Some of which I'm actually quite fond of. Products like Brigg's Mixture, Revelation, and Carter Hall.






Brigg's Mixture consisted of heat treated Burley, Virginias, and Kentucky; Revelation was Bright Virginia and cube cut Burley with small quantities of Latakia and Perique and a mild almost citrussy top dressing; and Carter Hall is Virginia and Burley with a little Bourbon and a touch of cocoa. All three are decent old fashioned products of style that is no longer very popular.












Trails of smoke curve over the edge of my third pipe today. Only loading half-full, so that I can revisit some of my favourite briars. Pensively.
An old time aroma.

Years ago I described some Virginia mixtures as "stealth tobacco", because I could smoke those late at night in the teevee room, cautiously, whereas something like 'Presbyterian' or 'Durbar' would have her beetling out of her room like a bat out of hell to tell me firmly to go smoke with my friends the bums and rabid beasts at the old abandoned church up the block. Blends with a little Burley and mostly Virginia are also such "secret indoor vices". There is a pot of herbal muck on the stove releasing fragrant steam, the windows are open, and the door to her bedroom is firmly shut. There is no need for her to know, and the fragrance will have disappeared by the time she comes home.

I'll be heading over to Chinatown later. Need to buy vegetables.
Maybe today I'll smoke a pipe afterwards.

TOBACCO INDEX


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