@AnantaAndroscoggin According to Pipedia, Dr. Grabow Viking pipes were patented in 1954, but they got sued by Falcon because they looked just like them. They later came out with a different design in 1956 and were enough different that they were no longer considered a patent infringement.
Hilarious, from Pipestud’s First Responders Newsletter & Website Update 3/9/19:
<<Q. I have heard you say that coming up with your own blends can make a person's pipe smoking hobby more fun. I have been experimenting and would like you to try a blend that I made that is super! I took 25 grams of Burley and mixed it with 25 grams of dry Dill weed. I know that sounds awful but it actually gave me a really flavorful smoke. If I send you some would you try it and let me know your thoughts?
A. Actually, I have heard of marijuana smokers getting a cheap high when smoking Dill Weed as a substitute when marijuana is unavailable. Perhaps that's why you are enjoying your blend so much. Yes, please send me a sample and quickly, please! (-; >>
I'm a strong proponent of pipe tobacco and food. A bowl before lunch makes for an appetizing apéritif, a bowl after dinner the perfect nightcap. Taking the meal into consideration, the type of tobacco can make the pairing even better: the piquant nature of a VaPer accentuates the spicy notes of curry, while the smoked flavor of BBQ makes an English mixture afterward all the more enjoyable. In the same way that certain drinks combine better with certain foods, so do different kinds of tobacco, depending on the meal at hand and the smoker's personal preferences.
At the same time, though, occasionally a meal has interrupted a pleasant smoke, or I've counted down the minutes while eating because I want to return to my pipe. I love food, but at the expense of smoking? No thank you. It's a problem. But what if we could combine the two?
Sure, there are more than enough flavored tobaccos. Mixtures topped with sweet, dessert-worthy notes. BriarWorks even has a blend that combines hints of bacon and bourbon. Where these all fail, though, is that one still must eat — tobacco doesn't fill you up; it provides mental, spiritual and philosophical nutrition, but no physical sustenance.
Imagine if it did. Imagine a blend that was a three-course meal, not only in flavor but in physical and nutritional satisfaction as well. Something along the lines of the gum prototype in the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie — the one with Gene Wilder, God rest his soul.
Obviously, I'm not advocating for tobacco to transform smokers into giant blueberries, but simply proposing that instead of sitting down to a plated dinner, eaten with a fork and knife, you could merely light up a bowl. In science fiction, a simple, single tablet has often provided all the calories necessary; tobacco is even more natural. The blend could start as a delicious caesar salad before transitioning into a warm, slow-cooked roast in the layering of the bowl, finishing with a sweet pairing of apple pie and vanilla ice cream. You'd be left full and satisfied and still in prime position to enjoy a digéstif bowl before bed.
The possibilities and flavor combinations would be endless. Never again would you have to struggle finding time for lunch and a bowl during your break — the bowl would be your lunch. Of course, there would be special occasions where a traditional, sit-down meal would be more acceptable, but overall there would be massive, beneficial implications. Talking while "eating" would no longer be an issue; grocery shopping would be revolutionized; cooking would be a thing of the past. Vegans would be delighted, cookbooks would become tobacco blending recommendations, and restaurants would become tobacconists. Instead of grudgingly pausing a bowl just to eat, packing a briar would mean dinner's ready.
@RockyMountainBriar Thanks! Now I've just discovered that I can't click the like button without getting sent to another page which only says I don't have permission unless JavaScript is enabled (it is) . . . so I suspect that since my computer is a bit old now, perhaps it can't run the most recent updates to JavaScript and so the older version I AM running can't keep up?
@RockyMountainBriar - You are correct. The Falcon moved some of its production to England around 1961 and stopped production in the US completely in the mid-70s. I always thought it was interesting that both Falcon and Kirsten came out about the same time frame in two different parts of the country. Of course the big differences between the two are 1. The Falcon is a cast aluminum while the Kirsten is machined aluminum. and, 2. The way the bowls screw onto the stem.
I know people who love their Falcons but I didn't like the ones I've owned and smoked in the past. I like my Kirsten.
Hey all! After a long hiatus, Smoking Jacket Magazine is seriously considering reopening its doors and producing, for all your tobacco pleasures, an e-zine and a quarterly print magazine! (WHAT!!!!)
So, where we are; I have launched a Go Fund Me and a Patreon (<== Links in case you didn't notice) to try to offset the high costs of doing this (even a website with a private members area costs a dollar a day)
I am looking to make this more sustainable, not in so much as profit, but in taking care of the contributors, like paying writers and web-hosting fees so that I can continue to bring regular high quality content and make you feel that your membership money isn't wasted. Further, with a paid membership model, I can easily bring you 15 articles a month or more and a physical magazine 4 times a year!
With my startup fees (I am asking for $5000 on Go Fund Me (<==Go! Every dollar helps!)), and 100 physical magazine subscribers ($5 a month for 3 months on Patreon (<==need as many of these as we can get too), this becomes easily sustainable. I am retired with a lot of free time on my hands and a steady pension, so I am not looking to make money, just pay writers, offset web-hosting and bring you a 48-60 page, 8.5 x 11 inch, saddle stitched high gloss colour magazine. (I will switch to 60 page 8.5x11, Perfect binding, if there are enough subscribers).
So donate on Go Fund Me, and subscribe on Patreon and help us make this a reality!
Michael Herklots, vice president of retail and brand management at Nat Sherman, presented the TPE 2019 keynote speech, “How to Market, Merchandise and Promote in a New FDA Landscape.” Beginning the presentation, Herklots suggested that the title should be changed to “How to Market, Merchandise and Promote in a Constantly Changing Landscape,” subtly reminding the audience that the premium tobacco industry has always faced challenges and found ways to overcome them.
Pockets are a pipe smoker's best friend. And we need a lot of them. The minimum for going out into the world is a pipe or two, a tobacco pouch, pipe cleaners, a lighter and tamper, and we need places to put those things, along with a wallet, phone, keys and pocket knife. It would be nice to just materialize these items when needed and dematerialize them when done, but until that technology is available, pockets must suffice.I'm partial to a fishing vest myself. The perfect garment, a fishing vest can accommodate everything I carry. And they have enough pockets so I don't have to wear pants. However, my wife and daughter won't be seen with me when I'm so dressed. They think it's a hideous look. I long ago gave up any concern about how I look (or smell, for that matter), so I don't understand the objection. However, as a concession, I refrain from wearing a fishing vest when out with my family.We need more pockets in all of our clothing. Tee-shirts, for example. I don't understand a tee-shirt without a pocket. Where are you supposed to keep your lighter? Sport coats are good, but I never wear those because they can make me look respectable. They have pockets though, and I'm a fan of those.A guayabera is a great shirt with four pockets, but most need dry cleaning and I'm far too lazy for trips to the cleaner. Cargo shorts are good too, and I have the legs of a turkey vulture to show off in them. They're almost as comfortable as no pants, but with the advantage of pockets. Fanny packs are also excellent accessories; sometimes I wear two crossed over my chest like bandoliers.We pipe smokers make sacrifices for our pursuit of excellent smokes. If we want to smoke out in the world, we have to carry stuff, and that may mean giving up our fashion sense in pursuit of practicality. But pockets definitely help.I had the privilege years ago of meeting the pocket's inventor, Elijah T. Pockett, a pipe smoker who needed more opportunities to carry items on his person. He started sewing patches of fabric to his clothing in a formation that would become known as the Pocket. It was pipe smokers who initially favored the innovation and ushered this new technology into the mainstream. Pockett went on to become so wealthy he no longer needed pockets, instead hiring a servant to carry his pipe smoking accoutrements for him.During the early years of pockets, pipe smokers ruled the world because they were the only ones who had them. You can't carry the key to the nuclear football without a pocket, after all. But then non-pipe people started to see the advantages and ruined everything. They started carrying non-pipe items in their pockets, like weapons, cell phones or junk food. Soon the pipe smokers, who used their pockets only for good, were overrun and the non-pipe smokers took over, pockets overflowing with documentation, arbitrary authority and, Heaven help us, Tic-Tacs.That's why the world is in the mess it is today. If pipe smokers had been left to run the planet, as nature intended, things would be fine. It's time someone among our ranks invented something to regain our advantage. The world will experience harmony only when pipe smokers rule.
@motie2 Thank you for posting the link to Tobacco Business magazine. This is a great source of information that helps to provide information and dispell myths that are running around the pipe community.
"Blugh." I sputtered in disgust, my palate unenthused and underwhelmed by the dull flavor and sharp pangs of tongue bite that could be precipitated only by smoking much-too-young tobacco. "Nope." My eyes watered as I tried to read the contents of the tin's label, but it was no use. Never had I felt so simultaneously bored and betrayed. I searched the cupboard for an empty jar of appropriate size, but instead came across two smaller, matching jars. I was reluctant to transfer the ribbon-cut leaf into separate mini-Masons. Careful not to spill a single strand of the mundane mixture, I reached for a permanent marker and two labels, when an idea came to me.
I read recently about a process for aging whiskey that's never seen the inside of a barrel, and doing so in around 24 hours. The brown liquor in question is produced through a combination of different chemicals introduced into medical-grade alcohol, and though some whiskey purists might certainly balk at the idea, I was intrigued. I wondered if time could be maximized by adding other commodities, and now that I had a test subject, I proceeded with the experiment.
I labeled one jar "Test," the other, "Control." I placed the Control jar in my tobacco cellar, and took the other with me to the study. If I was going to help this blend mature, I was going to need some expert help. I searched the bookshelf for the thickest, most boring book I could find, and read a few pages out loud of Unexceptional, Dense and Pedantic by Dr. Jejunely Cumbersome. The jar was patient — a sign of maturity — but nonetheless looked no older than the few minutes it took to reach Chapter 2 (though I had aged significantly). I decided to take the compact container for a walk. The exposure to nature might awaken the tobacco's senses, spurring it toward a contemplative experience. I grabbed a pipe and a bowlful of five year-old Orlik, thinking at the very least, the stuff might be inspired by more experienced, aged tobacco.
I was wrong, on both counts. Beginning our trek, I lit my pipe, careful to waft some wisps of smoke toward my jarred companion, but it seemed only demoralized, and soon clouds encroached overhead, and we turned back. The two of us watched the torrential downpour from the front porch as I tipped out a little white ash from the bowl of my pipe. I noticed the wet ink-stained Test label, and began to feel slightly contemplative myself. Some things can't be forced, I reasoned, and that's natural. The wait might be long, but the journey itself is the real experience.
@motie2 - Saw that story about the Smoking Jacket Magazine on another forum. I'm still scratching my head on that one. The goal is to raise $5,000 to to produce the magazine and I can't stop laughing. The 5K won't cover the printing cost of a magazine like what they are trying to produce and that's before they start paying writers, photographers and the people doing the layout & design work of creating the magazine.
I was the managing editor of a monthly magazine for 10 years and the magazine was owned by a printing company. I was running the company's entire art and production department for the last 3 years and was heavily involved in price quotes for the different publications we handled. I still do freelance layout & design work and I'm very cheap at $75 an hour. Most freelancers charge $100 - $125 per hour. I would want a minimum of 20 hours to do a press ready job that size.
Overly optimistic. What I learned over the years in the printing industry is that most people have no concept of what it takes to print a magazine or newspaper. The think you just create a pdf file and send it to print like a desktop printer. It just doesn't work that way.
Every pipe man should have a good fishing vest for their pipes. I wear them all the time when the weather is warmer. Of course, if it's too full of pipes and tins, I sound like a knight in armor walking around.
@PappyJoe -- I'm looking forward to your comments on/evaluation of this article. Your experience in this area, as evidenced by your analysis of related posts, should prove edifying.
I like wearing sunglasses. Not because I look especially "cool" in them (though I do) and not because Top Gun happens to be one of my favorite flicks (though it is). I like wearing sunglasses for the obvious, sun-blocking reasons, but I also value the buffer they create between me and the world. Classic aviator sunglasses are especially efficient, reflecting incoming attention with their mirrored exterior surface and inhibiting onlookers from detecting where my own gaze is directed. Like tinted window glass, sunglasses are a perfect people-watching tool. However, sunglasses also distance me from others, creating a tangible barrier permitting me an observation vantage but without participation.
While pipes don't offer a hidden veil from which to observe the world, they act similarly as a buffer. There's a sense of comfort when smoking a pipe in public. Sure, it may draw glances, but the briar is still a shield from the world: Within the smoke lies an insulated, protective bubble, a literal comfort zone. When people notice, their attention is immediately drawn to the pipe, yet they're observed from within the safety of the pipe's protective bubble.
Unlike sunglasses, though, this bubble of contentment doesn't hide the pipe smoker's visage (well, depending on the amount of smoke being produced) or act as a noticeable rift between the smoker and the world, allowing for participation within the context of personal protection. External negativity is dissolved by the bubble's force field, leaving the interior calm, safe, and blissful. Conversely, the peacefulness the bubble encourages emanates outward to affect those tolerant enough to accept the warmth and friendliness of a lit pipe. In this also, the bubble of contentment differs from the one-way shielding of sunglasses, as it not only protects but emits happiness to those around.
The peaceful mood within the bubble is infectious to those discerning and open enough to its effects, instilling a calming presence and bettering the moods of passersby. Like a self-sufficient island of emotional safety, the bubble of contentment not only fosters the emotional needs of the smoker but also exports its safety to those around, transforming park benches and smoking lounges everywhere into sanctuaries of bliss.
Waking up in a strange place was not a particularly unusual experience for me in 1980, as that was a period of discovery. I was hoboing around the Gulf states, living mainly out of my car, working a job for a week here or there, exploring the lives of people in a very low income category. It was interesting and enlightening, but sometimes not entirely safe. Not having an actual bed, I sometimes woke in various inconvenient places: remote parking lots, or strange apartments in different cities, usually with peculiar people who either liked me more than was comfortable or wanted to kick my ass. But I was unprepared when I woke one morning alone on a deserted island.
I had a bump on my head, a party hat, a bottle of Dom Perignon, and a pillowcase full of knicknacks. Odd. I can't explain the pillowcase of stolen items, but I'm sure I must have liberated it from some evildoer. I learned later that I had fallen off a yacht unnoticed, but never figured out how I got on that yacht. I didn't hang with the yachting crowd, so I'd probably been on board uninvited. To this day I don't like yachts. It's the reason I don't own a yacht now (yes, that's my justification and I'm sticking to it). However, I was accustomed to waking in strange environments, so I let it go. Different times.
I started exploring the island. Fresh water, bananas and coconuts were plentiful, and there was even some wildlife, so I wouldn't starve. I was worried about tobacco, though. If I was here long, my one pouch of tobacco wouldn't last, though I had two good pipes.
While walking the beach, I noticed some gold doubloons in the surf and followed the trail into the water, diving to discover an old wreck just under the surface. It was filled with chests of gold, which did me no good under these circumstances, but it also had casks of tobacco. Jackpot!
I wasn't surprised. I've always been lucky. I once passed out on the roof of my pal's pickup and he drove 5 miles before parking and discovering me. Another time, I chose a random stretch of sidewalk for a quick catnap and woke to find I was first in line for Bruce Springsteen tickets. Waking to find all the tobacco I could smoke was no more remarkable.
I had everything I needed: food, water, pipes and tobacco. My boy scout days had prepared me for fire building, and a shelter was easy to construct. As the weeks passed, though, I found I was missing one simple but essential element: pipe cleaners.
Finding a way to clean my pipes drove me to distraction. The humidity was very high, so even the tobacco I dried with fire became humid again in the bowl. I'd read that in the old days, with clay pipes, smokers would simply put them in the fireplace and the impurities burned away. My pipes were briar and vulcanite, so that wouldn't work. I'd also read that feathers could be used, though.
I constructed a large net from coconut fibers and vines, and managed to catch several of the island's native birds, and though most of their feathers were inadequate, I retrieved the largest for my pipes. The island soon became populated with flightless birds meandering about with confused expressions. My pipes were no longer gurgling though, so I figured tripping over loitering birds was an acceptable trade.
When the feathers ran out, I experimented with plant fibers of various sorts, but couldn't get them through the stems. I even tried washing a pipe in the stream, leaving it for the current to wash through, but the pipe didn't fare well and took forever to dry out.
Finally, I accepted that I needed to return to civilization for pipe cleaners, so I pulled out the pillowcase from the yacht and retrieved the two-way radio from it, calling for help. A fishing boat came by a few days later and I swam out to it, making sure I had my pipes and tobacco with me safely tucked away. I didn't bother with the gold; it was heavy.
It was a good time and a restful few weeks, but I knew the situation would soon deteriorate without the comfort of a pleasant smoke. Such is the sad fate of a pipe smoker chained to the accessories of his hobby.
Comments
According to Pipedia, Dr. Grabow Viking pipes were patented in 1954, but they got sued by Falcon because they looked just like them. They later came out with a different design in 1956 and were enough different that they were no longer considered a patent infringement.
High-Calorie Tobacco
Thursday, March 7, 2019 by Truett Smith
I'm a strong proponent of pipe tobacco and food. A bowl before lunch makes for an appetizing apéritif, a bowl after dinner the perfect nightcap. Taking the meal into consideration, the type of tobacco can make the pairing even better: the piquant nature of a VaPer accentuates the spicy notes of curry, while the smoked flavor of BBQ makes an English mixture afterward all the more enjoyable. In the same way that certain drinks combine better with certain foods, so do different kinds of tobacco, depending on the meal at hand and the smoker's personal preferences.
At the same time, though, occasionally a meal has interrupted a pleasant smoke, or I've counted down the minutes while eating because I want to return to my pipe. I love food, but at the expense of smoking? No thank you. It's a problem. But what if we could combine the two?
Sure, there are more than enough flavored tobaccos. Mixtures topped with sweet, dessert-worthy notes. BriarWorks even has a blend that combines hints of bacon and bourbon. Where these all fail, though, is that one still must eat — tobacco doesn't fill you up; it provides mental, spiritual and philosophical nutrition, but no physical sustenance.
Imagine if it did. Imagine a blend that was a three-course meal, not only in flavor but in physical and nutritional satisfaction as well. Something along the lines of the gum prototype in the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie — the one with Gene Wilder, God rest his soul.
Obviously, I'm not advocating for tobacco to transform smokers into giant blueberries, but simply proposing that instead of sitting down to a plated dinner, eaten with a fork and knife, you could merely light up a bowl. In science fiction, a simple, single tablet has often provided all the calories necessary; tobacco is even more natural. The blend could start as a delicious caesar salad before transitioning into a warm, slow-cooked roast in the layering of the bowl, finishing with a sweet pairing of apple pie and vanilla ice cream. You'd be left full and satisfied and still in prime position to enjoy a digéstif bowl before bed.
The possibilities and flavor combinations would be endless. Never again would you have to struggle finding time for lunch and a bowl during your break — the bowl would be your lunch. Of course, there would be special occasions where a traditional, sit-down meal would be more acceptable, but overall there would be massive, beneficial implications. Talking while "eating" would no longer be an issue; grocery shopping would be revolutionized; cooking would be a thing of the past. Vegans would be delighted, cookbooks would become tobacco blending recommendations, and restaurants would become tobacconists. Instead of grudgingly pausing a bowl just to eat, packing a briar would mean dinner's ready.
I know people who love their Falcons but I didn't like the ones I've owned and smoked in the past. I like my Kirsten.
New post on Smoking Jacket Magazine
Heeerrrre’s Johnny
by Erin McRoyHey all! After a long hiatus, Smoking Jacket Magazine is seriously considering reopening its doors and producing, for all your tobacco pleasures, an e-zine and a quarterly print magazine! (WHAT!!!!)
So, where we are; I have launched a Go Fund Me and a Patreon (<== Links in case you didn't notice) to try to offset the high costs of doing this (even a website with a private members area costs a dollar a day)
I am looking to make this more sustainable, not in so much as profit, but in taking care of the contributors, like paying writers and web-hosting fees so that I can continue to bring regular high quality content and make you feel that your membership money isn't wasted. Further, with a paid membership model, I can easily bring you 15 articles a month or more and a physical magazine 4 times a year!
With my startup fees (I am asking for $5000 on Go Fund Me (<==Go! Every dollar helps!)), and 100 physical magazine subscribers ($5 a month for 3 months on Patreon (<==need as many of these as we can get too), this becomes easily sustainable. I am retired with a lot of free time on my hands and a steady pension, so I am not looking to make money, just pay writers, offset web-hosting and bring you a 48-60 page, 8.5 x 11 inch, saddle stitched high gloss colour magazine. (I will switch to 60 page 8.5x11, Perfect binding, if there are enough subscribers).
So donate on Go Fund Me, and subscribe on Patreon and help us make this a reality!
Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em >>
FYI: Tobacco industry news
MICHAEL HERKLOTS DELIVERS KEYNOTE AT TPE 2019
Michael Herklots, vice president of retail and brand management at Nat Sherman, presented the TPE 2019 keynote speech, “How to Market, Merchandise and Promote in a New FDA Landscape.” Beginning the presentation, Herklots suggested that the title should be changed to “How to Market, Merchandise and Promote in a Constantly Changing Landscape,” subtly reminding the audience that the premium tobacco industry has always faced challenges and found ways to overcome them.
https://tobaccobusiness.com/michael-herklots-delivers-keynote-address-at-tobacco-plus-expo-2019/
Pockets
Monday, March 11, 2019 by Chuck Stanion
Pockets are a pipe smoker's best friend. And we need a lot of them. The minimum for going out into the world is a pipe or two, a tobacco pouch, pipe cleaners, a lighter and tamper, and we need places to put those things, along with a wallet, phone, keys and pocket knife. It would be nice to just materialize these items when needed and dematerialize them when done, but until that technology is available, pockets must suffice.I'm partial to a fishing vest myself. The perfect garment, a fishing vest can accommodate everything I carry. And they have enough pockets so I don't have to wear pants. However, my wife and daughter won't be seen with me when I'm so dressed. They think it's a hideous look. I long ago gave up any concern about how I look (or smell, for that matter), so I don't understand the objection. However, as a concession, I refrain from wearing a fishing vest when out with my family.We need more pockets in all of our clothing. Tee-shirts, for example. I don't understand a tee-shirt without a pocket. Where are you supposed to keep your lighter? Sport coats are good, but I never wear those because they can make me look respectable. They have pockets though, and I'm a fan of those.A guayabera is a great shirt with four pockets, but most need dry cleaning and I'm far too lazy for trips to the cleaner. Cargo shorts are good too, and I have the legs of a turkey vulture to show off in them. They're almost as comfortable as no pants, but with the advantage of pockets. Fanny packs are also excellent accessories; sometimes I wear two crossed over my chest like bandoliers.We pipe smokers make sacrifices for our pursuit of excellent smokes. If we want to smoke out in the world, we have to carry stuff, and that may mean giving up our fashion sense in pursuit of practicality. But pockets definitely help.I had the privilege years ago of meeting the pocket's inventor, Elijah T. Pockett, a pipe smoker who needed more opportunities to carry items on his person. He started sewing patches of fabric to his clothing in a formation that would become known as the Pocket. It was pipe smokers who initially favored the innovation and ushered this new technology into the mainstream. Pockett went on to become so wealthy he no longer needed pockets, instead hiring a servant to carry his pipe smoking accoutrements for him.During the early years of pockets, pipe smokers ruled the world because they were the only ones who had them. You can't carry the key to the nuclear football without a pocket, after all. But then non-pipe people started to see the advantages and ruined everything. They started carrying non-pipe items in their pockets, like weapons, cell phones or junk food. Soon the pipe smokers, who used their pockets only for good, were overrun and the non-pipe smokers took over, pockets overflowing with documentation, arbitrary authority and, Heaven help us, Tic-Tacs.That's why the world is in the mess it is today. If pipe smokers had been left to run the planet, as nature intended, things would be fine. It's time someone among our ranks invented something to regain our advantage. The world will experience harmony only when pipe smokers rule.
https://tobaccobusiness.com/?s=pipe+tobacco
Thanks for the shout out!
Controls & Variables
Thursday, March 14, 2019 by Daniel Bumgardner
"Blugh." I sputtered in disgust, my palate unenthused and underwhelmed by the dull flavor and sharp pangs of tongue bite that could be precipitated only by smoking much-too-young tobacco. "Nope." My eyes watered as I tried to read the contents of the tin's label, but it was no use. Never had I felt so simultaneously bored and betrayed. I searched the cupboard for an empty jar of appropriate size, but instead came across two smaller, matching jars. I was reluctant to transfer the ribbon-cut leaf into separate mini-Masons. Careful not to spill a single strand of the mundane mixture, I reached for a permanent marker and two labels, when an idea came to me.
I read recently about a process for aging whiskey that's never seen the inside of a barrel, and doing so in around 24 hours. The brown liquor in question is produced through a combination of different chemicals introduced into medical-grade alcohol, and though some whiskey purists might certainly balk at the idea, I was intrigued. I wondered if time could be maximized by adding other commodities, and now that I had a test subject, I proceeded with the experiment.
I labeled one jar "Test," the other, "Control." I placed the Control jar in my tobacco cellar, and took the other with me to the study. If I was going to help this blend mature, I was going to need some expert help. I searched the bookshelf for the thickest, most boring book I could find, and read a few pages out loud of Unexceptional, Dense and Pedantic by Dr. Jejunely Cumbersome. The jar was patient — a sign of maturity — but nonetheless looked no older than the few minutes it took to reach Chapter 2 (though I had aged significantly). I decided to take the compact container for a walk. The exposure to nature might awaken the tobacco's senses, spurring it toward a contemplative experience. I grabbed a pipe and a bowlful of five year-old Orlik, thinking at the very least, the stuff might be inspired by more experienced, aged tobacco.
I was wrong, on both counts. Beginning our trek, I lit my pipe, careful to waft some wisps of smoke toward my jarred companion, but it seemed only demoralized, and soon clouds encroached overhead, and we turned back. The two of us watched the torrential downpour from the front porch as I tipped out a little white ash from the bowl of my pipe. I noticed the wet ink-stained Test label, and began to feel slightly contemplative myself. Some things can't be forced, I reasoned, and that's natural. The wait might be long, but the journey itself is the real experience.
Saw that story about the Smoking Jacket Magazine on another forum. I'm still scratching my head on that one. The goal is to raise $5,000 to to produce the magazine and I can't stop laughing. The 5K won't cover the printing cost of a magazine like what they are trying to produce and that's before they start paying writers, photographers and the people doing the layout & design work of creating the magazine.
I was the managing editor of a monthly magazine for 10 years and the magazine was owned by a printing company. I was running the company's entire art and production department for the last 3 years and was heavily involved in price quotes for the different publications we handled. I still do freelance layout & design work and I'm very cheap at $75 an hour. Most freelancers charge $100 - $125 per hour. I would want a minimum of 20 hours to do a press ready job that size.
i agree with you on the financial aspects of the proposed enterprise.
Yet, hope springs eternal.
Perhaps they're just cockeyed optimists?
The Secret History of Smoking Jacket Magazine
https://smokingjacketmagazine.com/2019/03/15/the-secret-history-of-smoking-jacket-magazine/@PappyJoe -- I'm looking forward to your comments on/evaluation of this article.
Your experience in this area, as evidenced by your analysis of related posts, should prove edifying.
EDER MATHIAS
MELTING POT AND PIPE
https://www.alpascia.com/moments/en/detail/34/eder-mathiasWildnerness Pipe Cleaners
Thursday, March 21, 2019 by Chuck Stanion
Waking up in a strange place was not a particularly unusual experience for me in 1980, as that was a period of discovery. I was hoboing around the Gulf states, living mainly out of my car, working a job for a week here or there, exploring the lives of people in a very low income category. It was interesting and enlightening, but sometimes not entirely safe. Not having an actual bed, I sometimes woke in various inconvenient places: remote parking lots, or strange apartments in different cities, usually with peculiar people who either liked me more than was comfortable or wanted to kick my ass. But I was unprepared when I woke one morning alone on a deserted island.
I had a bump on my head, a party hat, a bottle of Dom Perignon, and a pillowcase full of knicknacks. Odd. I can't explain the pillowcase of stolen items, but I'm sure I must have liberated it from some evildoer. I learned later that I had fallen off a yacht unnoticed, but never figured out how I got on that yacht. I didn't hang with the yachting crowd, so I'd probably been on board uninvited. To this day I don't like yachts. It's the reason I don't own a yacht now (yes, that's my justification and I'm sticking to it). However, I was accustomed to waking in strange environments, so I let it go. Different times.
I started exploring the island. Fresh water, bananas and coconuts were plentiful, and there was even some wildlife, so I wouldn't starve. I was worried about tobacco, though. If I was here long, my one pouch of tobacco wouldn't last, though I had two good pipes.
While walking the beach, I noticed some gold doubloons in the surf and followed the trail into the water, diving to discover an old wreck just under the surface. It was filled with chests of gold, which did me no good under these circumstances, but it also had casks of tobacco. Jackpot!
I wasn't surprised. I've always been lucky. I once passed out on the roof of my pal's pickup and he drove 5 miles before parking and discovering me. Another time, I chose a random stretch of sidewalk for a quick catnap and woke to find I was first in line for Bruce Springsteen tickets. Waking to find all the tobacco I could smoke was no more remarkable.
I had everything I needed: food, water, pipes and tobacco. My boy scout days had prepared me for fire building, and a shelter was easy to construct. As the weeks passed, though, I found I was missing one simple but essential element: pipe cleaners.
Finding a way to clean my pipes drove me to distraction. The humidity was very high, so even the tobacco I dried with fire became humid again in the bowl. I'd read that in the old days, with clay pipes, smokers would simply put them in the fireplace and the impurities burned away. My pipes were briar and vulcanite, so that wouldn't work. I'd also read that feathers could be used, though.
I constructed a large net from coconut fibers and vines, and managed to catch several of the island's native birds, and though most of their feathers were inadequate, I retrieved the largest for my pipes. The island soon became populated with flightless birds meandering about with confused expressions. My pipes were no longer gurgling though, so I figured tripping over loitering birds was an acceptable trade.
When the feathers ran out, I experimented with plant fibers of various sorts, but couldn't get them through the stems. I even tried washing a pipe in the stream, leaving it for the current to wash through, but the pipe didn't fare well and took forever to dry out.
Finally, I accepted that I needed to return to civilization for pipe cleaners, so I pulled out the pillowcase from the yacht and retrieved the two-way radio from it, calling for help. A fishing boat came by a few days later and I swam out to it, making sure I had my pipes and tobacco with me safely tucked away. I didn't bother with the gold; it was heavy.
It was a good time and a restful few weeks, but I knew the situation would soon deteriorate without the comfort of a pleasant smoke. Such is the sad fate of a pipe smoker chained to the accessories of his hobby.
A tribute to pipes, pipe smoking and pipe smokers