Tuesday, January 21, 2020

WE WILL NOT RISK LAS VEGAS

As is their wont, a few of the boys went off to Las Vegas to watch sports, gamble, and huff cigars, among other depravities. Which made the place peaceful and quiet, except for the hours of the ball game, when the usual displays of intemperate behaviour, Tourettes, and religious terms coupled with fornicatory vocabulary were rife. As they also must have been in Las Vegas where the others were.

Being a perfectly nasty sort of man, I envision cigar-themed Speedos and group photos of saggy old rightwingers lounging at the pool. My own rich imagination leaves me traumatized.

Remarkably, many of these hufters are married.


Now, I like cigars once in a while, but it's not my life style choice. Briar pipes for smoking tobacco are more gentlemanly, and to me personally far more rewarding. Aesthetic objects that evoke memories of light and mood, the weather during certain times, and smells that call back deeply buried data sets. Contemplation, comfort, and faces. Sort of a light-spirited aid to the intellect. As well: solace during hard times.


You might find me on the outskirts of a social event enjoying some semi-solitary down-time, far away from the group giddiness. Good times, bad times, and times of intense living.

Note: Photo stolen from Rick Perry's post in 'JUST British Motor Cycles'. No, I have no idea where he got that picture of me engaged in my daily rounds, collecting debts as the credit and collections man during my youth, delivering the mail, comforting the sick and dying, and generally being nice to cats while writing the great Dutch American novel. It's a mystery. Must have been one of those early cell-phones, only black and white snaps.

Back in my day, Vegas didn't exist. We made our own fun.

Pipe smokers are, generally speaking, calmer and more rational than the typical cigar aficionado. Far less flighty or inclined to unstable behaviour.





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