Tweet
Ago, when this forum was still wild and woolly and men were men and stogies were flying back and forth like pigs on the wing, I took advantage of an offer from The Dawg to pick up a couple of fivers of assorted pedigree. Although I hadn't heard of most of them, they looked interesting and his prices were more than reasonable.
[Note to The Thought Police: This transaction occurred between consenting adults, both living in the US of byghodz A, where Free Enterprise is still legal, and all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes were duly paid.]
Welp, upon arrival, I must say that these "interesting" see-gars were not done justice by the pitchers The Dawg put up. The gen-you-wine articles were downright... errmmm... ah... well, the word bizarrely eclectic comes to mind. Wait. That would be two words, wouldn't it? A stunning array of colo(u)rfully banded, mostly large girth, lesser-known smokes. Shoulda took a pitcher, but dint, and now it's too late. sigh.
Ennywaze, that's not the point of this postie, just the background. What I wanted to say was... ummmm... ahhhhhhh........... Okay. 'old on, 'old on. Gimme a minit.
Oh, yeah! Right.
So, amongst this parade of peacocks, one lonely stick stood out with it ordinariness (is this a word?): a Felipe Pelo de Oro Corona.
Nice little 'gar, 5 x 42, with a cute little curly top. So, the other gaudy fellows all clamoring for attention being so hard to choose amongst, I selected this humble little fellow to try out.
Lurvely, lurvely, lurvely! Was an absolute pleasure. Great draw, nice even burn, mild, smooth and with a delightful evolution of subtle flavo(u)rs. A stogie I would gladly smoke any time. Unfortunately, I had only the one.
But wait! Stirrings in my sludgy brain. Vague recollections, images flashing behind my bloodshot eyebulbs, something... something...
Quick, I rush to mine trusty Mac and fire up my stogie database. Search on Feliipe Pelo de Oro... VIOLA! Yes! I remember now: One of the larger cigar retailers here on <--- this side of the pond had recently emailed me with the proverbial offer I couldn't refuse: A tempting description of how these Pelo de Oro's were made up with the infamous pre-embargo tobacco and how they were the cat's meow, the bees knees, the Mutt's, and all for the ridiculously low, low introductory price...
Ennywaze, long story short (Oops! Too late!), I gave in to temptation. Also, curiosity, since these were really odd-looking see-gars being, not the Corona, but the Flechas:
A 6 x 50, long, tapering fellow with a bushy head and an uncircumsized foot and I had TEN of them! Even remembered which of my multitudinous humidorii I had stashed them in!
Rushed over, plucked the funny fellows out and selected one for sacrifice to the ghodz of flame. Snipped his shaggy topknot, gave a puff to make sure the draw was acceptable, and immolated his nether end.
Toke, toke.
Nothing.
Check to make sure the fecking thing is actually lit. Yup, nice red embers.
Toke, toke, toke, toke
Nothing.
WTF?
Okay, okay. Slow down, scientifical self. Let's analyze the situation, shall we? This time, instead of the frenzied toking, I take measured puffs and pay attention to what I'm doing. When I create a negative pressure zone on the near end, the distant end does indeed brighten up and appear to burn. Meanwhile, closer to home, careful examination reveals that smoke is coming through at this end and is indeed entering my pursed lips. So, mechanically, everything is hunky dokey.
The problem is now apparent: The fooking see-gar has absolutely no flavo(u)r!!!
This can't be. Could it? Yes. It could. It is.
Puff, puff, puff, puff, puff, puff. Adequate smoke; no taste. None. Nada. Nichts. Bupkis. Fuck!
But, wait! Look at the shape of this peculiar thing. As it burns, it gets skinnier, thus must needs it change flavo(u)rwise, no? HAH! Indeed, the answer is YES! About a third of the way down, I suddenly get a burst of real flavo(u)r. And instantly wish it would revert to its former state. YECCCHHHH!!! Ptui!
But the Corona was soooo good. How can this be? I am flummoxed. So, I not-so-reluctantly put this silly-looking stogie down and go off to do other things.
Time passes.
WTF, might as well smoke it down some more and see if it improves at all. Knock off the ash, roll the end gently to loosen up the dottle which obediently falls off, and relight Mr. Dogrocket.
Hmmm. Is this the same stogie? This is tasting like the little Corona I liked so much. What's going on here? P'raps my papillae were pooped? Mebbe in the interim, this sad stogie soaked up some sogginess from the swelter of the Florida clime? Or I could have been transported into an alternate universe. No klew. Decide to stow away the remaining sticks in long term holding and determine their fate at some later date, far in the future.
Now, for those of you who are still reading and are also still awake, we finally come to the point of this postie.
If there are a sufficient number of you out there who may be sadistic, stupid, or desperate enough to want to try one of these decidedly different see-gars, I am willing to send a fiver of them over to ---> that side of the pond. Prolly I would just ship them in a bunch [Note to The Thought Police: all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes will be duly paid] to my little, Italo-Limey buddy, Margarita Toucano, and have him do the local distribution (ensuring, of course, that all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes are paid).
So, I'm looking for a quintento of persons of questionable judgment to come forth and I will do my part to introduce you to the bizzaro cigarro world.
[Note to The Thought Police: This transaction occurred between consenting adults, both living in the US of byghodz A, where Free Enterprise is still legal, and all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes were duly paid.]
Welp, upon arrival, I must say that these "interesting" see-gars were not done justice by the pitchers The Dawg put up. The gen-you-wine articles were downright... errmmm... ah... well, the word bizarrely eclectic comes to mind. Wait. That would be two words, wouldn't it? A stunning array of colo(u)rfully banded, mostly large girth, lesser-known smokes. Shoulda took a pitcher, but dint, and now it's too late. sigh.
Ennywaze, that's not the point of this postie, just the background. What I wanted to say was... ummmm... ahhhhhhh........... Okay. 'old on, 'old on. Gimme a minit.
Oh, yeah! Right.
So, amongst this parade of peacocks, one lonely stick stood out with it ordinariness (is this a word?): a Felipe Pelo de Oro Corona.
Nice little 'gar, 5 x 42, with a cute little curly top. So, the other gaudy fellows all clamoring for attention being so hard to choose amongst, I selected this humble little fellow to try out.
Lurvely, lurvely, lurvely! Was an absolute pleasure. Great draw, nice even burn, mild, smooth and with a delightful evolution of subtle flavo(u)rs. A stogie I would gladly smoke any time. Unfortunately, I had only the one.
But wait! Stirrings in my sludgy brain. Vague recollections, images flashing behind my bloodshot eyebulbs, something... something...
Quick, I rush to mine trusty Mac and fire up my stogie database. Search on Feliipe Pelo de Oro... VIOLA! Yes! I remember now: One of the larger cigar retailers here on <--- this side of the pond had recently emailed me with the proverbial offer I couldn't refuse: A tempting description of how these Pelo de Oro's were made up with the infamous pre-embargo tobacco and how they were the cat's meow, the bees knees, the Mutt's, and all for the ridiculously low, low introductory price...
Ennywaze, long story short (Oops! Too late!), I gave in to temptation. Also, curiosity, since these were really odd-looking see-gars being, not the Corona, but the Flechas:
A 6 x 50, long, tapering fellow with a bushy head and an uncircumsized foot and I had TEN of them! Even remembered which of my multitudinous humidorii I had stashed them in!
Rushed over, plucked the funny fellows out and selected one for sacrifice to the ghodz of flame. Snipped his shaggy topknot, gave a puff to make sure the draw was acceptable, and immolated his nether end.
Toke, toke.
Nothing.
Check to make sure the fecking thing is actually lit. Yup, nice red embers.
Toke, toke, toke, toke
Nothing.
WTF?
Okay, okay. Slow down, scientifical self. Let's analyze the situation, shall we? This time, instead of the frenzied toking, I take measured puffs and pay attention to what I'm doing. When I create a negative pressure zone on the near end, the distant end does indeed brighten up and appear to burn. Meanwhile, closer to home, careful examination reveals that smoke is coming through at this end and is indeed entering my pursed lips. So, mechanically, everything is hunky dokey.
The problem is now apparent: The fooking see-gar has absolutely no flavo(u)r!!!
This can't be. Could it? Yes. It could. It is.
Puff, puff, puff, puff, puff, puff. Adequate smoke; no taste. None. Nada. Nichts. Bupkis. Fuck!
But, wait! Look at the shape of this peculiar thing. As it burns, it gets skinnier, thus must needs it change flavo(u)rwise, no? HAH! Indeed, the answer is YES! About a third of the way down, I suddenly get a burst of real flavo(u)r. And instantly wish it would revert to its former state. YECCCHHHH!!! Ptui!
But the Corona was soooo good. How can this be? I am flummoxed. So, I not-so-reluctantly put this silly-looking stogie down and go off to do other things.
Time passes.
WTF, might as well smoke it down some more and see if it improves at all. Knock off the ash, roll the end gently to loosen up the dottle which obediently falls off, and relight Mr. Dogrocket.
Hmmm. Is this the same stogie? This is tasting like the little Corona I liked so much. What's going on here? P'raps my papillae were pooped? Mebbe in the interim, this sad stogie soaked up some sogginess from the swelter of the Florida clime? Or I could have been transported into an alternate universe. No klew. Decide to stow away the remaining sticks in long term holding and determine their fate at some later date, far in the future.
Now, for those of you who are still reading and are also still awake, we finally come to the point of this postie.
If there are a sufficient number of you out there who may be sadistic, stupid, or desperate enough to want to try one of these decidedly different see-gars, I am willing to send a fiver of them over to ---> that side of the pond. Prolly I would just ship them in a bunch [Note to The Thought Police: all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes will be duly paid] to my little, Italo-Limey buddy, Margarita Toucano, and have him do the local distribution (ensuring, of course, that all duties, taxes, penalties, surcharges, fees, tariffs, tolls, levies, assessments, valuations, tributes, and bribes are paid).
So, I'm looking for a quintento of persons of questionable judgment to come forth and I will do my part to introduce you to the bizzaro cigarro world.
LOL!
Comment