This is the day we give thanks! Celebrating Memorial Day can be a stirring and emotional day. But know this – our country is rejoicing in its freedom. Despite the shackles that seem to be tightening around our ideas and dreams, we are a free country. And I thank God for that.
The next few days I will post some of the highlights of our freedom as played out at Woodstock in 1969. It was that year in August when over 200,000 people congealed on a 600-acre dairy farm in Bethel, New York–some 50 miles from Woodstock–owned by Max Yasgur for three days of peace, love and rock ‘n roll.
I will return Tuesday with the Blog! In the meantime, light up a cigar – and “Let The Sunshine In!”
Richie Havens sang for over two hours as the opening act at Woodstock because the other bands were stuck in eight miles of traffic to the festival.
Sing with Richie, feel his passion for FREEDOM!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rynxqdNMry4
This is what I had been missing – this ghostly affair. I mentioned that without the sense of smell, I could not truly enjoy any cigar. But my nose drew in all the combinations that God could muster. The cigar began to burn my fingers – a shock, back into reality.
If you were to see this scratch, I can imagine your response. “Where is it? “It’s right (pause) there. There. See it when the light reflects off the ragged and crude edges! There!” The look of incredulity astounds me. “Can’t you see it? They’re ruined. My perfect glasses are spoiled by the speed of life, the politics of the day, the rush to get everything done fast. Aaugh!”
An alternative is drawn to his attention.
Now the final and most stressful is to call a customer who has an unpaid balance. I generally ask the office staff of the manufacturer to make those calls. But often when they hit a brick wall we are asked to make the intervention. Truth be told, I abhor and would rather bungee cord – sans cord – off the edge of the Grand Canyon into the abyss. I avoid them like the plague, even if I know the shop owner. Why? People change when they owe money. This morphing of character has not changed since the beginning of time and never will. But! If I have to – I do it. Maybe I take a whole Valium instead of half of the baby-aspirin-shaded pill just prior to making these calls. I need to be alert!
The more difficult is when they conjure up a story about not getting the invoice or they didn’t realize they were behind. I call this type of plea the snake justification. They slither and slide in every direction and never make a point to actually say they owe. So you have to give them the benefit of the doubt, but then it’s a waiting game. And who doesn’t want to get paid.
So from what I hear, the party was a smoldering success. Friends, cigars, music, brats, burgers, and fresh asparagus on the grill. Man. What a better way to start a summer vacation?
I picked the ashtray up and held it out in front of me with my cigar still in its smooth channel. It doesn’t look like a carcinogen. But according to the FDA, glass, now classified as semi-soft silica, is in fact a liquid and can cause, in some cases, cancer. It says so right in the ruling on page…381. But may I paraphrase, as the writers of this bill had diarrhea of the mouth. Call it legalize.
And, it goes on to state that it is a probability that the heat from the cigar ember could in fact, melt the silica quicker causing the ashtray to melt, thus exposing the individual to another cancer causing agent i.e. liquid glass. It does state that architectural structures, such as homes, buildings etc., with glass panels “once approved” by the FDA will be exempt from the ban. Further study is needed on whether or not the FDA will include drinking glasses and bottles of beer. Now, this includes glass smoking pipes too. So in essence, only non-coated metal ashtrays will be allowed.
“DAD! DAD! I’m sorry.” I shook myself awake. My son was watering the grass and he turned suddenly so that the spray from the hose splashed across my face. My eyes opened. Indeed, I had fallen asleep. I had been having a daydream. More like a nightmare I would hope never comes true.
So I finally went to see the doctor today at the open clinic in town. It’s where you can go without an appointment and see a doctor. I’m early, and I sit in my car waiting for the door to be unlocked. Suddenly the lights go on, the entrance is opened and I enter the building. I give the receptionist my name, my reason for being there and I go sit down. The place is empty save for two people both who, I overhear, are there for blood-work.
Now you may be doing something I don’t know about to rectify this abomination of a regulation, and if I’ve come on too strong I apologize right here and now. But why not change the profile picture of you in that same field holding a placard that has written on it, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
But if this bill remains as it is currently written, that option is out. No more new stuff. No more boutique blends. No more dreams fulfilled. It’s so dire to even think about it that I want to cry every time I talk to someone in the industry about the carnage the FDA has befallen upon us – and they look at you with the empty eyes of a corpse. Hello?
I don’t rant often. But being a cigar broker is what I do. I’ve worked too long and too hard at it to let the government, just willy nilly, take it away from me. It reminds me of the next to final scene in the Stepford Wives, as Joanna desperately tries to find a way out of the mansion of the Men’s Organization and is menacingly confronted by Dale Coba, the president of the club. It is then that she discovers he has already produced a robot of her. With sickening terror in her eyes, Joanna implores him to answer her question, “Why are you doing this?” Coba turns to her – and says, “Because we can.”
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