“The most futile and disastrous day seems well spent when it is reviewed through the blue, fragrant smoke of a Havana Cigar”.
“Tobacco is the plant that converts thoughts into dreams”.
“If smoking cigars is not permitted in heaven, I won’t go”.
NOTE: the following may lead some to engage in foolish behavior, potential pregnancies, fondness for dens of iniquity, and loose talk. Forge ahead if you enjoy the company of Sailors, and such things.
Writers, thinkers, curmudgeons, and satirists enjoyed a fine cigar. Actors, artists, and politicians also, but it seems the powerful’s lesser vices these days involved tobacco. Only in America, in 2017, can we have a state, California, that now frowns on the cigarette, pipe and cigar smoker, but promotes the consumption of marijuana.
What should an old curmudgeon, retired Chief, and blogger do? Relax. With a glass of Johnny Walker Black over ice, and a Jamaican -label Montecalvo cigar, purchased on my recent cruise in the Caribbean. As another post-Thanksgiving day wanes, it was an accomplished day: some writing, dogs groomed, yard trimmed, and exercise. First a hike this morning and then a former pile of stones now have taken the shape I envisioned three weeks earlier. Christmas yard ornaments are laid out. Where a stress-filled work-day can be a disaster repaired with a good cigar, it has been a remarkably good day.