Monday, January 24, 2022


Left the house at an ungodly hour this morning for my eye-doctor's appointment. The good news is that regular latanoprost eye-drops have helped reduce the pressure inside the left orb, and the situation has stablized at a safer level. Seeing as glaucoma is slow, very slow, I was worried about being blind on one side eventually, and now it looks like I'll be able see out of both eyes when I finally kick the bucket when I'm past a hundred.

Please note that use of verbs such as "seeing", "looks", and "see" was deliberate.
I have an ill sense of humour. I should see someone about that.

Naturally I filled up the appropriate pipe afterwards.
An apple. The roundness. I would've smoked it anyway.
Did I already mention my sense of humour?

Surely you can see how appropriate a round pipe is for a visit to the eye doctor?
The utter suitability is practically staring you in the face.
Fercrapssakes, just look at it!

Okay, I'll stop now.

A pipesmoker on the internet posted a photograph of a recent mail-call. Which included a one-pound can of Captain Black Grape. He shamefacedly wrote that he may have been intoxicated when he placed the order. And I suspect it may have been late in the night, because bad decisions are more common when you can't see far ahead. Perspectives get skewed.

John with a last name that indicates he may be a relative of mine nine generations ago wondered how it tastes.

[Captain Black Grape. No, not a captain named Black Grape, but the brand of Captain Black flavoured cavendish pipe tobacco, in particular a version that came out several years ago, which has taken the old codger and grammar school delinquent demographics by storm. Apparently Midwestern wives and mothers love the smell. They have to cope with lutefisk and cabbage, so who can blame them?]

It tastes like grape soda. There is NO discernible tobacco flavour at all. None. I smoked several bowls of two test batches when it was still in the pre-finalization phase. The good thing is that it doesn't bite. The bad thing is that several people have doubted my sanity ever since.

Fortunately there is no pipe tobacco that smells of lutefisk. If there were, there would also be a collection of crusty old farts, probably with unkempt beards and collections of empty beer cans, who would become a cult following for it. "This tobacco", they would say, "exemplifies all that was good about the old days, sweetness and light". Those wonderful local tobacconist's blends of the past, when serious professionals ran a pipe shop, and briars were more common.
Søren Svenson's Fishy Flake: A real man's smoke.

I must point out that I have heard ALL the condimental tobaccos used in blends (Latakia, Perique, fired Kentucky, Turkish, and cigar leaf) described as reeking like sweat socks.

In order: terpeneols (Latakia), tangy salty sweet (Perique), charred oak and old dust (fired Kentucky), resinous and clayish (Turkish), wood shavings and cow dung (cigar leaf).
Sweat socks. All of it.


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