The Invisible Cigar

Not a whole lot, but some folks are curious why I’m not flooding the internet, especially Facebook, with pictures of the brands I represent.  Or why I have such eclectic subject matter presented in My Story, totally unrelated to cigars.

My retort is a simple question, “Why should I?  What’s the point?  “Why not?”  It would be like you proselytizing about how good a dentist you are, or a doctor, a plumber, a pediatrician, a butcher, baker, or candlestick maker.  You are the best.  Well, of course, you are.  Whadda ya gonna say, I’m the worst dentist since W.C. Fields, or the most horrendous physician as the demonic Dr. Mengele, or the most crazed butcher as Jeffrey Dahmer?

Would you?  Of course not. 

When a particular cigar is seen over and over and over again touting its magnificence by bleeding all over Facebook guess what happens?  Methinks the reader falls into the pit of indifference. 

After a half-hour or so of scrolling due to boredom, the cigar (or any product for that matter) is simply passed by.  Sure it may subliminally enter your subconscious, but after the fifth or sixth time of “such and such is the best, boldest and the brightest”), the reader doesn’t give a hoot.  Now the scroller is just looking for something that will make him or her pop again!  Once that’s over, it’s back to smooth, silent, scrolling for another ejaculation of enjoyment.  

And then even that excitement will begin to wane.

Then what?  Bloody Hell . . . onto Instagram.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_kwXNVCaxY

Why bring this up?

Living surrounded by the aroma of cigar smoke is like two people who each eat garlic salami – neither can detect the acrid breath emanating from each other’s mouths.  Why should this matter? Just lately, I’ve noticed that people are slightly offended by my, oh, shall I call it the “remnant of the essence of tobacco perfume.” And I can’t understand that because the smell of garlic is much more prevalent on people’s breath than tobacco smoke.  And rancid garlic is more disgusting than the rotting flesh of a fish left on a pier.

Again.  So why bring this up?

I’m tired of feeling like the pariah in this otherwise acceptable malodorous society we’ve created.  Reeking of garlic, onion, or anchovies is acceptable during a group conversation. But walk in a room smelling like sweet cigar smoke and you think Pepé Le Pew just arrived.  

So what’s my beef?   If you’re in a conversation with people whose breath is foul enough to melt lead, you can simply excuse yourself and leave. 

And when I thought about it, which I did, it dawned on me that I’d rather smell like tobacco smoke than the bottom of a sunbaked bait bucket.

(Or you can wear a mask.)

Now does the painting make sense?

(Painting by Kathe Burkhart 1984)