AND NOT A SINGLE HOBBIT

The quarterly social event for the club was cancelled this month due to scheduling issues, but the monthly meeting went off without a hitch. From my perspective, at least. I got to nibble tasty things, like cheese.
If I ran a company, there would be a cheese plate at every staff meeting.
Company events? We have some fabulous cheese!
A new product roll-out? With cheese!

Plus dried tofu for the Vegans.
In barbecue flavour!

THREE BEARDS, TWO MOUSTACHES
AND SPECTACLES

Ten men, and probably several times as many fine briars. Plus an open tin of McClelland Christmas Cheer, of which I smoked a bowl. It was very good. Nearly the same number of men elsewhere in the building huffing cheroots and yowling at a football game. But distant enough that their unwashed habits and drooling did not impact us.
Because the local team won, Jeff pretty much had his first orgasm in months, judging by the sounds of it. All of that plus a Honduran stogie too.
Football doesn't do that for me, but I'm normal.

McClelland's Christmas Cheer is actually very nice -- there are several tins of several vintages on top of the main bookshelf in my quarters, as well as a few behind me in the tall bins in the teevee room -- but initially I demurred a bowl, because I am weaning myself off of that company's products. Seeing as they no longer exist. McClelland closed it's doors at the beginning of this year, and while I have enough to last me for nearly three and half more years if I smoked nothing but, I intend to live longer than that.
What I have will have to last me a few decades.
I think William brought the tin. Which was very nice of him.
Bernhard brought some Jock's Mixture from South Africa. It's the tobacco he grew up smoking. I'll have a bowl of that later this evening, as my last puff of the day out on the street.

[Van Erkoms Jock's Mixture: ribbon cut flue-cured leaf, allegedly spritzed with vanilla and caramel, which my nose did not pick up. Described as earthy, stinky, and pleasantly sweet. As well as profoundly enjoyable. If the reviews I have seen are correct, I may need to order a shipment of this, as like many other fine tobacco products it just isn't available locally.]

[Re: McClelland: Melon!?!.]

As I mentioned, ten men at the meeting of the pipe club. But other pipe-smokers were also in -- Wade, whose wife secretly bought him eight ounces of Stonehaven several months ago, plus Jacob and his confrère whose name escapes my memory -- so I had the buffing wheel going for a bit, as pipe stems do oxidize over time. And I got to talk smack about my favourite enemy amongst the aromatics: Molto Dolce. Here, smell this. Good tobacco does NOT reek like a Turkish bagnio. Or feel sticky, like the Mummy in the Brendan Frazer movie, it's still moist. This tin has been open for over two years, it should be bone dry. Nope. Propylene Glycol. It will remain soggy forever. Ten thousand years from now the space aliens will find a stash, and say "we don't know what this is, but it is incredibly nasty, and this species deserved to die".
The last time I smoked it was to torment Hector, who looked at me horrified and demanded to know why I was doing this to him. But it left my mouth so buggered up that I couldn't smoke the rest of the day. Something had died a painful death in there. Aromatic shite fit for perverts, no one else.


No members of the pipe club will touch it.


Contrary to what anti-smoking harridans of Marin County assume, no children came in looking for aromatic tobaccos. None of the little bastards want to emulate me. Or any of the other distinguished members of the club.
There were no hordes of tykes outside trying to breach the barricades.
No little ten year olds with dad's ancient black briar.
Sherlock Holmes wannabees.
Gandalfs.


Kate Spears lied.


Come here, little girl, would you like some Capstan?
Tolkien, Bertand Russell, and Simenon smoked it.
It's damned fine stuff. Shows good judgement.

I'll see if I can arrange a regular supply for you.
And some Jock's Mixture. You'd like that.

TOBACCO INDEX


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