HOT RUMBLINGS

The entire week has been rather nasty, weather-wise. Hot. Most of the time the Bay Area is temperate, and there have been some lovely foggy nights these past few months. Since monday it has been more like Sacramento, Houston, or Dallas.
Where I do not wish to be.

Not having been to Houston or Dallas, I have little negative to say about those places, and one of my friends lives somewhere in the great state of Texas, so I don't want to say anything too bad about the place. He's a great guy, and many pipe smokers know him. He once forced his local pipe club to smoke Dunhill's Royal Yacht, and some of the members have still not forgiven him. Most particularly the chap who went out back to throw up.
In one hundred plus degree heat.

The opportunity to puke in an air-conditioned comfortable environment may be somewhat limited in Texas. I feel that this needs to be rectified. Seriously. What is this world coming to when losing your lunch cannot be done in cushy temperature-controlled spaces? Sad.

Thank you, Steve, for highlighting this painful situation, with Royal Yacht.
Maybe that stuff should only be smoked somewhere else?
I'm thinking Scotland. Or Reykjavik.

[ROYAL YACHT: Shade-grown Virginias, topping of plums (probably benzyl butyrate). A highly peculiar classic. It's been described as sickening and headache inducing. It was enjoyed by the Prince Consort, Simenon, and Prince Bernhard Von Lippe-Biesterfeld of the Netherlands, which are recommendations. Medium-bodied.]

There are a few twenty year old tins in my stash, but if I open one, I'll have one less.
So I think I'll acquire a tin this weekend. I need some excitement.
I'll probably share it with the pipe club.

Naturally this reminds me of mudslides. Not the combination of vodka, coffee liqueur, Irish cream, and whipping cream, but something that happens a lot during typhoons in Asia, or hurricanes in parts of the world where honestly I have no wish to go.


Here in San Francisco the only mudslides we normally have are the frat-boy sorority girl teenage alcoholic kind, which despite the imagined horror of my friend the bookseller, who is now probably going out back to throw up, actually sounds pretty good. Chilled, yes?
A boozy milk shake, in lieu of dinner during hot weather.
When one's appetite is down.

Perhaps I can convince him to smoke a bowl of Royal Yacht.

Please note: I am actually not a mean man.
Blame the blasted heat.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================