ALMOST A MOMO CHALLENGE

Something going around on the internet which is both frightening and hilarious is the cob challenge, which in one form dares the participant to smoke his or her corncob pipe only for an entire month. Six or more times a day. To show all those people who sneer at cobs that properly taken care of, and regularly cleaned, such a pipe can be more durable than a briar.

Well, in some ways I am a glutton for punishment.
But I am not entirely batshit crazy.

Yesterday I smoked three bowlfuls, in three different pipes.
Today two bowls. That was two briars.
Not a single cob.


There is nothing I need to prove.
I sneer at challenges.


A pipe should be an occasional quiet pleasure. Not a compulsion. Preferably by oneself, or with someone who does not mind the activity.

By the same token, it is best done indoors, in comfort. Instead of outside in the howling rain while battling streetside miscreants.

San Francisco is a horrible place in that regard, as instead of benches in parks where one could sit a while with one's pipe, there are signs everywhere telling smokers to kindly go piss up a rope.


Which is understandable as regards cigarette addicts, but pipesmokers with the decency to pack good Virginia-Perique mixtures, or splendid Balkan blends into their bowl are fish from an entirely different kettle.


On weekdays, when I am alone in the apartment, in the mornings I smoke indoors. Windows open, co-tenant's door firmly closed, all the stuffed creatures safely bundled up against the cold drafts.

Second or third pipe of the day over in Chinatown.
Where everyone has a relative who smokes.
Or is the actual smoking relative.

[Letting the place air out during the afternoon.]


Two hundred or more bowlfuls per month would leave me with a mouth that felt like shoe-leather, a permanent reek of brimstone, and quite likely pneumonia from being outdoors so often.


I really need to be indoors more.
It's cold on the sidewalk.

TOBACCO INDEX


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