The Brief Case Of the Briefcase

11 Tuesday Oct 2016

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I once read somewhere, maybe in The Art of the Deal, that Trump never carries a briefcase. Fine and well for him but I sometimes do. I have to have a convenient place for cigars, a laptop, brass knuckles and pens I appropriate from hotels.

Over the years I have been through a number of models. I had this terrible habit of using them as file cabinets, stuffing them with papers I would never read and tossing them around until they were destroyed. I try to be a little more careful these days and I try to avoid paper.

Anyway, until last week I ran with an old (16 years) Dell laptop case. It was worn, tattered and the zipper was coming apart. Still it worked for me. That is, until the handle fell off. Many defects may be tolerated. A broken carry handle is not among them. Thus began my search for a replacement.

Earlier this year I lamented my inability to find a decent man’s suitcase. I still haven’t found one and I ponder if they even exist at this point. At least three end of the year travels await and I’m still using the old, frayed Land’s End bag. And you thought the election was problematic.

I worried that perhaps the briefcase market would be equally bleak.

One warm morning I ventured to one of the big box office retailers. Midway through the store I stumbled upon a collection of modern satchels, attaches and book bags. All of them seemed designed for women, children, metros, weaklings, and colorblind rave-goers.

They were, all of them, huge. I need to carry a small computer, not hike the AT, end to end. They had a variety of wheels and straps. I’m not moving furniture. They were in colors and patterns better suited for signaling other intelligent life in the galaxy. I just need to tote a Chromebook to the cigar bar. One even expanded vertically into a standing desk. It had a desk lamp and a washing machine built in. Another featured Barbie riding a pony while waving a BLM banner at a pride parade scene.

My growing snarls, tremors, and the crushing of a steel shelf support brought the attention of a clerk. He nervously pointed out that they had a men’s selection.

And, there, far in the back of the store, back by the storage room door, away from the lights, and out of hearing of the Muzak, I found this:

_20161010_173718

No wheels. No straps. No colors or themes. Simple, classy, utilitarian. Something your grandfather might have sported. And cheaper than its flashy cousins.

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And there you have it. Justice, economy and common sense in the modern world.

Case closed.

Diary of a Wimpy Nation; My Old Man Would Take Exception

21 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes, Other Columns

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

America, exercise, men

A friend turned me on to a piece from National Review about the decline of male strength in America. This trend appears tp coincide with the rise of obesity and other negative indicia.

If you’re the average Millennial male, your dad is stronger than you are. In fact, you may not be stronger than the average Millennial female. You’re exactly the kind of person who in generations past had your milk money confiscated every day — who got swirlied in the middle-school bathroom. The very idea of manual labor is alien to you, and even if you were asked to help, say, build a back porch, the task would exhaust you to the point of uselessness. Welcome to the new, post-masculine reality.

Let that sink in. Our young men are no stronger than our women. If you’re a young hipster, pokemon addict, your dad is stronger than you. I’m a proud, jaded Gen-Xer and I kind of know what that’s like. My dad was always stronger than me (until shortly before he died). That however was freak genetics; if I was Batman strong, he was the Incredible Hulk. Hell, his nickname in the gym was “Earthquake”.

The Review is talking about “men” who have become so feminized as to shun all physicality. One thing led to another and I found myself reading a story from the New York Times: 27 Ways to be a Modern Man. It’s actually pretty good until the end.

My thoughts on a few of the wayward of the 27 ways:

13) I don’t listen to Wu-Tang. Then again, musical tastes vary greatly. That may just be personal.

17) Really? A melon baller? I guess this is New York based advice.

20) I had to look up this spoon business. At first I though they were talking about snuff. They were not.

23) I don’t know who Michael Mann is and I’m not checking.

25) This is a dead giveaway the author is a liberal sissy. A gun does not make a man but, like any tool, a man may find uses for one. This is also a odds with number 16.

26) Men may cry but they don’t do it often. I last cried when my daughter was born.

All cry and no gun? These are modern “men” they’re describing. Probably obese and weak as any woman. I suspect the women are weaker too and they are definitely getting bigger. Grab any farm wife from 1880s Kansas and I bet she could beat up half the recruits at Paris Island today.

I could give advice like:

Get a gun or at least learn how one works;

Wear a belt and closed toe shoes;

Hit the gym, toughen up and lose some fat;

Carry a pocketknife;

Carry a handkerchief too;

Limit the video games;

Buy my books;

Smoke a cigar;

Offend an SJW intentionally and never apologize;

Read a book;

etc. – a 1000 etcs.

But, advice is a dangerous gift to give. Wait, I did just throw some out. Live dangerous, be a man.

13606941_1259754540701648_5954926869772226154_n

All this got me thinking about the old man. At one time he held all the Georgia masters powerlifting records. I tried to find them but could not (easily). I’ll just estimate from memory: Bench – 455 lbs; Squat – 635; Deadlift – 585. These were “equipped” and from a 300-pounder. Still he was about 55 when he set them. Usually lifted wearing a “When it absolutely, positively has to be destroyed overnight” USMC t-shirt. He was smart too.

It’s not all brawn. A man should use his brain muscles too. I’ll leave you with that.

The Death of Men’s Suitcases and Other First World Problems

13 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

America, cars, cigars, men, modern, Perrin Lovett, suitcases

Upon my return from my last jaunt to sunny Florida I noticed signs of wear on my suitcase, which has served me for twenty or more years. Mine is a small soft sided tote from Land’s End. It’s of the size most people would call an overnight bag though it has served me for weeks or even months at a time without issue. It is showing signs of wear and fraying and it will not last through many more trips. I do have a backup – a huge, modern rolling shipping container of a case by American Tourister. That one will almost hold everything I own but it is so large and unwieldy that I rarely if ever use it (see below). I travel light therefore I like smaller bags.

Whilst I perused the Nordstrom website for bargain suits I decided to glance at their luggage selection. I was aghast at what I found. Every single one of their dozens of suitcases has wheels. All of them. (I also noticed many, many “men’s” handbags and purses…….ahem…). I despise wheeled luggage, especially for use by men. One sees them everywhere nowadays. Hoards of poorly dressed, overweight saps lumber through our airports pulling these ugly contraptions. Hotel lobbies are clogged with them. Not only are all of these models ugly, they are huge. Even school children roll their backpacks around on wheels (defeats the point of a backpack). They’ve invaded malls, interstate rest areas, and the workplace. People even roll duffel bags into the gym in acts of self-defeating laziness.

I sought refuge at the Samsonite webpage. There my worst fears were realized. The industry apparently no longer make traditional non-wheeled suitcases! Even the “carry on” bags have wheels and they have “carry” in their name!

I have this crazy theory that if it is so heavy that it needs to be rolled, then one probably could do without it. It’s a suitcase not a box off a cargo ship. No forklift should be required to move it. No man should ever have to roll his suitcase. A woman, perhaps, but not a man. A man should pick his case up by the handle and carry it – like a man. If they happen to travel together the man will invariably carry his bag in one hand while rolling the woman’s with the other.

You know the drill. A man carries his one suitcase on a trip – regardless of destination or duration. A woman carries (has the man carry) her suitcase, another suitcase, a third suitcase, a garment bag, a makeup bag, a cooler, a tote, a backpack (always open), her purse, a backup purse, several loose plastic grocery bags full of unidentifiable material, some trendy novel, and umbrella, a pack of cookies, a teddy bear, two pillows, and a quilt. Frequently, upon packing the car with all that feminine stuff, a man discovers there is no room left inside the car for him.

The luggage industry, like so many others, seems now to cater to a 100% clientele of women, children, and metrosexuals/gays. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, except that we men are left outside the bag check stand entirely. I don’t want and will not use an Ironman elementary school backpack nor a 400 pound pink box mounted on tractor tires. My dad, rest his soul, carried (picked up off the ground by the damn handle) a manly man’s suitcase. It was hard sided, bland, simple, and functional. That’s what I want.

My parents had a Samsonite set like this in the 1970s. Dad’s was the big one. No wheels anywhere.

This thing needs a “wide load” escort truck with flashing lights and flags.

Now my problem is compounded. I need a new suitcase in a world where there are none left from which to choose. Must I search Craigslist, second-hand shops, or yard sales for ancient relics of the lost luggage age? Looks like it. That, or use duct tape on my old Land’s End bag.

As the years roll by and as society crumbles I notice problems like this are growing. In stores like Nordstrom it is getting difficult to find clothes that are not the uniforms of rappers, hipsters, walruses, or little boys. I’d like a plain blue t-shirt – nothing about NASCAR, thug life, or Batman (cool as his is). It’s becoming harder to smoke a cigar outdoors – or even in a cigar shop. Many “cigar” stores are merely discount cigarette outlets or hookah lounges for tattooed, low-rent felons. Have you seen a modern automobile?

My SUV, a gift from my divorce, is getting on in age. It runs fine and serves me well but I have slowly began to plan for its replacement. This experience has been worse than the luggage debacle. Every single car, truck or SUV made by all manufactures all look exactly alike and have the exact same features. They are (with the unaffordable exceptions of the exotic supercars) small, ugly, under-powered, “safety” riddled, and filled with beeping, flashing, talking electronic garbage from a bad sci-fi nightmare. I do not require a backup camera, lane watch mechanisms, auto steering, radar cruise control, crash avoidance, heated seats, a bitchy voice telling me to buckle up, self-parking modes, tracking systems, a black box, Facebook, Bluetooth, chirping birds, or even airbags. Just give me a cup holder and a helluva lot of horsepower, please.

It looks like I will be settling for a 1975 F250 Ranger Hi-boy 4×4 with a carbureted 460. That, or a reconditioned AM General M939. Either of these will have the torque to pull any modern,wheeled suitcase monstrosity. One solution solves another.

Fall Of The House Of Gibson

14 Wednesday Oct 2015

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

≈ 4 Comments

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America, Athens, class, culture, George Gibson's, Georgia, men, menswear, style, the past

As time passes by I have noticed happy memories are occasionally tinged with sorry. So it is lately. I learned recently of the passing of a great institution, a dynasty if you will, in Athens, Georgia.

Several years ago, unbeknownst to me at the time, George Gibson’s Menswear closed its doors after half a century of servicing the Classic City.

George Gibson’s Menswear closed its doors Monday after almost 50 years of doing business in Athens.

Owner Thomas Hinson, who bought the business after the founder’s son died in 2008, said Monday was their last day as a full-service shop. Employees will be on hand to fill pre-made orders and hand over clothing dropped off for alterations for the rest of the week, he said.

…

He said the decline in business could be partially attributed to the economic recession, but also increased competition in a market of changing tastes.

“There’s increased competition in town, with the opening of some other men’s stores, and I think a changing in trend in how men dress,” Hinson said. “We live in an age where men dress more casually than they did even 10 years ago. You go the bank, and you can see that. Ten years ago, the guy at the bank wore a suit. Now, you don’t see that.”

The store opened in 1964 in the Beechwood Shopping Center, but moved in the mid-2000s to Baxter Street. Hinson said he started working at George Gibson’s in the 1990s while going to college and rejoined the shop in 2006.

He said he looked forward to coming to work every day.

Athens Banner Herald.

Gibson’s was a classic Menswear store. It was a fine shop which catered to fine gentlemen. One would find only the best clothes, shoes and accessories inside. Polo and Nautica were to common and, thus, were excluded. The front of the original store was filled with buffalo skin dress shoes, hand-crafted pocket knives and sportswear by the likes of Ike Behar. The back was reserved for suits and business and formal wear – all of which could be tailored on-site. It was a place where money did not matter (expensive) because the goods were worth it.

It was a men’s store. No women’s section. No children. Men only. Gentlemen only. At a time when even Brooks Brothers became Brothers, Sisters, Kids, and Everyone Else, Gibson’s held the line.

Few stores like this have survived. Given the increasingly obese and slovenly direction of America’s males the store seems a relic of the genteel past, a more formal and civilized age.

One can still catch a glimpse of Gibson’s grandeur here at their old Facebook site.

Times have changed. I write this with face bearded and shirt untucked. Yet, I am one of few who still, from time to time, dons a suit, who still weighs an appropriate number of pounds and who can still lift more than he weighs. Maybe I too am a relic of the old America.

I know much about Gibson’s and mourn its demise because I was a customer there long ago. For a short time I was also an employee. During my final summer at the University of Georgia I spoke to Andy Gibson, son of the founder, of my future plans and search for my first “real” job. He offered me part-time work while I searched. I only worked there a few months as I soon landed a position with real estate powerhouse Trammell Crow. My short tenure was, however, enjoyable and memorable.

Andy had taken over his father’s business a few years earlier. He strived, with great success, to keep things just as they were. He was a dedicated businessman and a wonderful person. He always smiled. He was always happy. He always shouldered the burden. He was a mentor, a friend, a big brother.

I continued to shop at Gibson’s years later as a budding attorney. My last visit was some ten years ago. I was going to a PGA tournament and needed something special. With my young daughter’s assistance I found it – a subdued, casual but elegant sports shirt. On a beer run at the links I actually bumped into the young man who sold me the cloth. Magical.

I knew that Andy died in 2008, much to young for so vibrant and dedicated a man. The picture below is the only one I could find of him – from his obituary. I don’t like it. It’s him but not at all as he was. The image is conservative enough but I remember him as more mature yet exuberantly happy.

Andy. Athens Banner-Herald.

Mr. George Gibson died in 2013. His lovely wife, who ran the alterations department in the back of the store, is also gone. I only met Mr. Gibson once maybe; I saw Mrs. Gibson regularly. She was a sweetheart.

Following Andy’s untimely departure the store was purchased by long-term employee, Thomas Hinson. I don’t remember him but it seems he held the helm admirable until the end. A year after Gibson’s closed Hinson died at the too young age of 35.

It’s all gone now. I have been in similar men’s stores from Atlanta to New York to Boston. None of them have the same feeling. None is special. Most of my better clothes these days come from Joseph A. Banks, a nice store but a chain store. I guess some things belong in the past.

Gibson’s will be missed and not just by me.

George Gibson’s Baxter Location, circa 2010. Facebook.

Trial By Jury, The Yellow Ribbon Myth and the Decline of an Ancient Institution

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns

≈ 6 Comments

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alternative, America, Amerika, ancient, Arizona, Boston, case, Cicero, Courts, crime, English, freedom, greece, guilt, jury, justice, law, Magna Carta, men, Milke, Ninth Circuit, order, peers, people, rights, Rome, terror, trial, Tsarnev, U.S.

The ancient Greeks and Romans had the crazy idea that a man accused of a crime should have the benefit of a public trial. During this ordeal the accusing party (the State) would have the burden of presenting facts, which might establish a crime. The Sword of God crowd would hold these base allegations sufficient to show the underlying criminal act. Our ancient ansestores had other ideas. To them the issue was important enough to warrant consideration by an assembly of impartial justices – a jury.

Of old the jury consisted of various members of the accused’s peers. These were his friends whom knew him well. Why were such pre-disposed men considered impartial, as they were friends of the accused? The idea was that, being men of honor, they would hear the evidence and weigh it in their minds fairly regardless of their relation to the suspect. The fact that they were friends of the accused served as a check against an illicit prosecution.

If “X” was charged with a baseless crime, the jury might collectively judge that, “yes, X is given to bouts of indiscretion, but he would never do something like this. Or, they might find that X, while am affable fellow, might be the sort who would commit such an act as alleged.

The system, while not perfect, worked well. In Rome, such trials were reserved for the upper classes – for men of privilege. Commoners were generally tried by magistrates in shorter, more informal settings. These lessor citizens, being of lessor importance, faced lower burdens of proof and lower levels of punishment. Fair if not. Members of the elite classes, given to higher responsibilities, were treated to high levels of justice. See the defense of Milo (a murder suspect), presented by one Marcus Tullius Cicero, one of the greatest lawyers of antiquity.

This theoretical approach to justice lived on after the 5th Century, being embodied in the Magna Carta, a core right of Englishmen. Thus, the right to a jury came to America.

Today this right is practically non-existent. In modern Amerika a jury trial, while nominally “of one’s peers” is one assured not by your peers. The fact is that very few criminal prosecutions end with a trial. Most of those end with a conviction (the vast majority). This is due to the overwhelming influence of the State and the extremely limited powers of the accused to resist such influence. Every effort is made to ensure that the jury does not, in nay way, know of the accused on a personal level. Further, only those enslaved to the power and suggestion of the accusing State are favored or empaneled. The system has been turned on its head.

Lately, several high-profile trials have made the news; these illustrate my point that there is no right to a fair trial in Amerika.

In 1989 Debra Milke was tried for the murder of her four-year-old son, Christopher. A jury (not of her peers) found her guilty – based solely on the unsupported testimony of a rogue police detective. Despite all indications of innocence the State’s chosen jury found Milke guilty. Thus, for several decades Milke lived in the daily terror of Arizona’s death row – dimmed to die for a crime she did not commit. The guilty parties averred she had nothing to do with the crime. This did not matter to the State until the matter was finally (thankfully) reviewed by the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals and the Arizona Supreme Court. See also: Arizona Supreme Court Won’t Allow Retrial of Debra Milke. The prosecutor is, naturally, frustrated by this untimely carriage of justice.

Milke was blessed by higher intervention. Too often the innocent in Amerika are executed for crimes they did not commit. A recent admission shows that the FBI and its crime lab have doomed at least a dozen innocents to death. You have probably never heard of these cases of injustice. So it goes.

Thus do the innocent, robbed of true justice, resort to filing pleadings in courts entitled, “F*ck this Court.” This one warrants reading and consideration.

Debra Milke faced execution because a heartless police officer lied under oath. The officer has since “taken the fifth” so as to avoid prosecution himself for his lies. The citizens of Arizona will pay millions of dollars to right this injustice.

A thousand miles away, in Boston, Dzhokhar Tsarnev has been found guilty of the Boston Marathon Bombings. His was one of the most bizarre trials I have ever heard of. See: Boston Marathon bombing trial: 18 jurors at a glance. The jury was selected based on their indifference toward the accused and their alliance with the state. Tsarnev was not allowed a defense. Rather, he, by way of his “counsel,” admitted guilt but relied on specious allegations of the undue influence of his older brother. His brother and other key witnesses were, conveniently, dead.

The case was tried backwards. The prosecutor first present victims of the bombing and their woeful statements – this usually comes after guilt has been established, during the penalty phase of the trial. Tsarnev’s counsel never even questioned these witnesses. The government then presented an unopposed fable of how Tsarnev constructed and utilized homemade bombs. Again, no challenge came from the “defense.” The lack of direct evidence was deafening.

Having admitted guilt and completely failing to challenge the government’s base allegations it was a given fact Tsarnev would be found guilty. They strategy (if any) of his counsel was that he would attempt to evade the death penalty by way of the supposed undue influence of his dead brother. Charming. Pathetic.

It is entirely likely that this young man played a part in the bombings. Thus, he deserves execution for his crimes. However, I have long suspected he was only a pawn in a false-flag operation designed to test America’s willingness to endure a police state (shelter in place, and all that). We will never know the truth here.

As a former criminal defense attorney I am well aware of the failings of the modern, American jury system of “justice.” Here follows the entire account of one of my trials in federal court, before a jury and bereft of justice. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, the guilty, and me. This story was originally designed for publication (never achieved) in a major news journal:

The Yellow Ribbon Myth: Amerikans Do Not Support The Troops, Nor Justice.

Do you “support the troops?” One sees countless bumper stickers proclaiming such support. I no longer believe the propaganda. When someone says, “I support the troops,” I hear, “I support the government.” This concept was made painfully obvious to me during a criminal trial last fall.

My client, “Donny’s” case, in a U.S. District Court, 2012:

I’m am calling my client “Donny” as I have not yet sought his permission to use his name; I also may be restrained from using certain facts due to Orders of Sealing/Impoundment.

Donny enlisted in the U.S. Army while in high school and completed basic training the summer before his senior year. Donny received an appointment to West Point though, after one year, he stopped his education and entered the Army as an enlisted man. He served with the 375th Ranger company in Afghanistan where he was forced to kill men, women, and children. The experience haunts him daily.

While in the field and during additional training he sustained major injuries, which necessitated his retirement on disability: I think his physical was 50%; his mental injuries (PTSD, psychosis, etc.) were 100%. During his tenure he rose to the rank of Sargent and was awarded so many medals and commendations that multiple forms DD-214 were necessary to list them all.

He received continuing physical and psychiatric treatment at the Augusta, GA VA hospital; they placed he on enough narcotics and psycho-tropic drugs to turn anyone into a zombie. His mental condition was initially rated as temporary. Throughout 2011 he pursued the status of “permanent and unemployable.” During this time he suffered marital and mental health-related troubles daily. Towards the end of his bureaucratic ordeal he made a phone call to the VA national “service” center.

During the (recorded) call he made statements which the VA took as terroristic threats – they alleged he said he was going to the regional VA office in Atlanta to kill the first 3,000 people he encountered using unspecified weaponry. My review of the call lead me to believe he was not sane during the call, that the government’s allegations were a wild, composite stretch of the words used, and that VA’s service isn’t. He was originally arrested on State charges. He was legally carrying a pistol at the time though the arrest was without incident. Damningly, his permanent status was approved the next day. He was released on bail only to be rearrested by the feds, charged with violating 18 USC 875, interstate terror threats (a 5-year maximum felony). Had he specified a “weapon of mass destruction” he would have faced 40 years in prison.

I was appointed as defense counsel and immediately moved for a psychiatric evaluation, thinking this would easily end the case. After several months I received a lengthy report from the MCC New York which exhaustively listed Donny’s chronic mental problems and concluded he was permanently psychotic. However, the good (government) doctor also stated he was obviously sane at the time of the call and competent to stand trial.

We elected to present the matter to a jury, figuring no twelve people could possibly convict a sick man for seeking help from the only source available. We were wrong. The government’s doctor explained the extent of Donny’s condition. The VA representative from the call stated she was not threatened by Donny’s language. The VA stated they did not take any defensive measures when faced with this 9/11 magnitude threat from a man they had trained to expertly kill other human beings. The VA storm-trooper in charge testified he lied under oath to the Grand Jury to obtain the indictment and that he, for no reason, held Donny’s elderly, disabled father at gunpoint AFTER the arrest. Despite all this the twelve morons returned a guilty verdict in less than half an hour. As an aside, at trial the government sandbagged me with thousands of pages of previously withheld discovery and they handed me the afore-referenced pistol LOADED in open court (I cleared it in disbelief).

Donny was sentenced to time served with the probationary condition that he continue his torture at the VA. When I walked into the hearing I was greeted by the AUSA and the VA goon who both suddenly agreed Donny was out of his mind during his “crime.” Donny accepted his sentence and declined both an appeal and a request for a Presidential pardon. I fear his condition will worsen, perhaps with morbid consequences. He is a delightful but pitiful and broken man. I was saddened and broken by this affair.

In modern Amerika Grand Juries, while supposedly independent in their deliberations, are little more than tools of State prosecutors. The defense is usually excluded entirely. The State has the free reign to present any “evidence” no matter how contrived.

The trial that follows (if any) is a showing of prosecutorial imagination and juridical ignorance. Less that 3% of defendants are acquitted under this system. The innocent are convicted and often executed. The lucky escape after years of torment. Life goes on and things are not likely to change any time soon.

I will, shortly, present an alternative, if primitive, alternative to this mad, fixed system of “justice.” Until then, be forewarned and prepared.

Proper Cigar Etiquette

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

cigars, cutting, enjoy, George Burns, humidor, lighting, Mark Twain, men, prep, regulars, Rudyard kipling, smoke, sticks, Tops Shelf Cigars, Winston Churchill

Smoking a good cigar can be one of life’s great joys. It can also be a little intimidating for a beginner. When I started out I had to endure several long months of trial and painful error. I hope you can avoid that.

**NOTES: This article is a little long. Therefore, I’ve divided it into sections with bold caption headings. If you have a question about a particular subject, just scroll down until you see it. Of course, I think the story is worth reading in its entirety.

Also, this is a guide to proper cigar smoking, not a guide to cigars (I do briefly touch on some common elements though). My aim here is to educate readers about the how-to’s of the cigar world. I leave picking a stick to you, your imagination, and your local tobacconist.**

And now, here’s some cigar advice:

Finding a Cigar Shop

First, you need to find a good cigar shop. For an idea of what a great shop is, re-read my column in praise of my local tobacconist: Top Shelf Cigars, https://perrinlovett.wordpress.com/2013/03/03/top-shelf-cigars/. Try to emulate that, if you can.

(Where the smoke “just pours out!”)

Gas stations, drugstores, and super-markets sell cigars (some of them have a decent selection too). However, to get the most out of the experience one must venture into an establishment dedicated to the sale of tobacco – fine tobacco, not a cigarette outlet. There are also cigar outlets – avoid them if possible. You want a decent place with several hundred “facings” (types of cigars to choose from) and a comfortable lounge for smoking in (preferably complete with several happy regular customers).

In addition to places that sell food, medicine, and Marlboros, here are some other things to avoid. If you enter a shop, ask for help, and they tell you a membership or fee is required to smoke therein – leave. If the place is full of stoned-looking reprobates – leave. They are stoned and not from good tobacco. If a U.S. retailer hawks “Cuban” cigars at their shop – don’t even bother. They’re either lying or breaking the law. If you walk in and see a bunch of odd-shaped glass pipes – leave, it’s a head shop. I hate to list this one for fear of..oh heck… if the shop is populated by children, women, and/or teenagers, then it’s not going to be a good time. By and large, cigars are for men. There, I said it.

Picking the Perfect Cigar (For You)

Once you find a good shop, you need to pick out a good cigar. Any place worth its smoke will have a knowledgeable staff who can assist you with your purchase. Beginners traditionally stick with lighter, milder sticks to start with. Something strong enough for a veteran may send a newbie to the bathroom for a prayer at the porcelain altar. Beware. Also, it helps to eat something first. Go try the new hobby on a Saturday after lunch or dinner. Be prepared to devote at least an hour to the smoking alone. Picking the right stick can take a while in addition – set aside two hours to do it right. Smoking with a friend helps too though you’re likely to make friends out of the regulars. I’ve never had any trouble striking up or joining a conversation at any shop I’ve visited. Cigar enthusiasts are nice people.

(A well-stocked humidor.)

By the way, good cigars are no necessarily cheap, though not outrageously priced. Be prepared to spend at least $5-10 for a decent stick these days; boxes of 20-25 run over $100 – don’t buy boxes until you really know what you want. Good shops keep their cigars in a walk-in (or large cabinet) humidor. This is to control the temperature and humidity of the sticks. The general rule is 70/70 or seventy degrees farenheit and seventy percent relative humidity. Slight variations are acceptable. You will get used to the feel of a humidor. I can walk in and tell if everything is kosher. For the novice, look around and you will find a set of gauges somewhere. Make sure their readings are close to 70/70. If the sticks are too cold or dry they will crack and ruin the experience. If they get to warm or wet bad things can happen – remember the movie Gremlins? If their humidor is off and the staff doesn’t pre-emptively apologize and explain it’s a freak problem, you should probably move on. Also, if you inspect a stick and see little things moving on it that look like bugs, they are. Cigar beatles to be exact. Time to leave.

Speaking of appearances, you will notice immediately a wide variety of shapes, sizes, colors, and titles. The color, texture, and dry versus oily appearance have to do with the type of tobacco and the way it is presented or manufactured. Most of these babies are hand-crafted by skilled personnel in the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Honduras, or elsewhere. Some cigars are square due to being “box pressed” or formed inside a squared off mold. I don’t like those as a rule, you might love them.

Cigars are generally three parts: the “filler” is the core tobacco inside; the “binder” encases the filler; the “wrapper” is the pretty piece of tobacco on the outside. Look for a wrapper without too many visible veins (it’s a leaf after all), cracks, or other imperfections. Look for smoothness and consistency.

The shade of the tobacco is usually somewhat indicative of its “strength” or the intensity of the taste. Darker generally means full-bodied and stronger, though not always. I recommend a lighter (natural or Connecticut) wrapper cigar for starters in a medium size. Cigars are measured length by ring gauge (width). Ring gauge is a function of 64ths of an inch. Thus, a 6×60 cigar is six inches long with a diameter a little less than an inch. That’s a big cigar (I’m finishing off a GIANT 7×70 right now), go for something a bit smaller. I’ll leave size descriptions and names to the local tobacconist along with explanations of the tobacco in the stick and where it’s from.

When judging a cigar in the humidor, very gently squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger. If it’s rock hard you will have a hard time puffing and keeping it lit. Too soft and it may burn too fast. Uneven feel may mean an uneven burn and necessitate regular touch-ups with fire. Sometimes these issues can’t be avoided, even the best sticks may have a bad lot. If you have horrible problems (splitting, grossly uneven burn, or an inability to draw smoke from fire to mouth, see the owner/staff. A good shop will replace a problem stick. If they give you a hard time, it may be time to leave.

A final word about stick picking: find what you like. This will mean some experimentation. Start with general recommendations but gauge all cigars by how happy they make you. There are several major publications which rate and review cigars. These can be good sources of information. Just remember, they usually require advertising or fees for their reviews. And, they come up with some of the most convoluted taste formulas imaginable. I really never pick up on notes of pencil lead, moss, cinnamon, or garlic or whatever. I smoke for the taste of tobacco; I like what I like. Follow that rule.

A final, final word about taste: some cigars are flavored – naturally and artificially. Seasoned pros tend to shy away from these. You should too in the beginning. If you discover you love them, stick with them, and be prepared for some teasing…

Prepping the Cigar

Okay, you’ve found a comfy, friendly location and the perfect starter stick. You’re almost ready to start enjoying, but not just yet. First, you must perform a little preparation. Almost all individual cigars come wrapped in cellophane. Some come in glass or metal tubes, some come in paper boxes and some in fancy little wooden boxes. Obviously, a cigar must be extricated from its tube or box prior to lighting. So to, must a stick be freed from its cellophane. I’ve seen too many people cut the cigar while it’s still wrapped. Don’t do that, it’s just tacky. The plastic comes off easily, usually in one fluid movement although some are closed off by a little paper sticker. Just tear the sticker and open her up.

Unlike a fine wine, a fine cigar does not need to breathe before being enjoyed. It does require proper cutting and lighting though. Professionals have their own ways of accomplishing these important prerequisites as unique as they are. Many of the old hands who actually make the sticks are known to simply bite the cap (the rounded end of the wrapper) off and light with a regular old Bic lighter. That works fine and I’ve none it myself but I’m here about etiquette today, I’ll act like it.

Cigar cutters are specialized tools designed to leave a clean-cut. Punches are just that, they punch little holes in the cap for smoke to exit through. They don’t work well on tapered or pyramid type cigars. I don’t use them – personal habits. V-cutters make a …. yep, “v” shaped grove in the cap. I don’t really care for those either. I like a full opening at the end for full smoke and taste delivery. I use a guillotine cutter. This device has two semi-circular bladed that converge together to shear off the end of the cap. Some have only one blade, two generally work better. Some are scissor-like, others are pressed together in a straight line without a hinged angle, others are actually little versions of that dreaded device from the French Revolution – for cigars, not nobility. Watch your fingers, please. On a regular, rounded cap, just cut off about 1/8th of an inch; for tapered designs, try half an inch or so.

Cigars can be lit by just about any source of sufficient heat. Matches, Bics, Zippos, butane torches, camp fires, and stove elements all do the job. Most reputable shops will have a selection of modern lighters in their lounge area. Some purists shun gas-powered lighters period, claiming they impart a petroleum taste. I don’t recall ever being bothered by this, you likely won’t either; I had to mention it though. The prim and proper way to light is to use any source to first ignite a slender strip of cedar (on hand in good shops), the cedar then lights the cigar – and makes an ashy mess. They really classic way to light was taught yours truly by an old Cuban doctor for whom I had the gravest respect, it is as follows: lightly toast the foot of the cigar (open end, opposite the cap) BEFORE clipping the cap. Just char it slightly. Then cut the cap. Then light with cedar. This supposedly preps the cigar for optimum smoke-ability and flavor.

Lighting the Cigar

However you get there and whatever you use, eventually the fire will meet the leaf. “Toasting” is always a good first step to heat up the 70 degree end. Keep it light, watch carefully so that you don’t start a fire up part of the wrapper and binder. Concentrate all firepower on the foot! Speaking of, lighters these days can come with two, three, even four or five flame jets. These will light a stick instantaneously or cut steel. Beginners would do well to stick with one jet or flame for precision.

Once your cigar is adequately toasted – judged by eye, then it’s time to fire it up! Put the cool end in your mouth (don’t bite down – loose and gentle) and take a few slow, long draws while firing the other end at the same time. Rotate the cigar with your fingers while lighting in order to assure an even light. It’s quite normal for open flames to come from the end, they die out almost at once. After several turns and good puffs, take a look at the burning end. It should be red evenly across the entire foot. Touch up as needed. Be mindful to only return the cool cap end to your mouth. I’ve done it the other way and it’s not pleasant!

Smoking

Now that the little beauty is lit, you can sit back and enjoy. Take it slow and easy. I am frequently accused of huffing and puffing my sticks like the Big Bad Wolf. A quality cigar will continue to smolder for about five minutes after you draw on it. If it goes out, you are going too slow. Re-lighting can tarnish the taste with a bitter or stale flavor for a second. It’s not horrible but should be avoided. Take regular draws.

Larger sticks may require a double puff to fully extract the right amount of smoke. That smoke should be contained in the mouth. Let it circle around as you would a good wine or whiskey. As it passes over the different areas of your tongue you will taste the various elements of the tobacco. This is a genuinely delightful process. Enjoy it as you would a good massage or a great steak or other delight. The tastes may change as the cigar burns or they make remain even throughout. Blow out once the taste subsides. You can keep the stick in mouth or hold it and look at it in wonder.

(Don’t he look happy?)

Cigars are not cigarettes. Do not attempt to inhale the smoke as it is a little stronger than what you’re used to and can sear the lungs most unpleasantly. Cigars are meant to be enjoyed for their flavor. Absorb it. You will also absorb nicotine; if you find yourself dizzy, back off a little. A little buzz is fun, getting sick is not. Also, a little ash is great to look at, a large ash is looking for somewhere to fall. Dump the old ash at intervals to keep it from falling on your lap; try it every inch or so.

Ashes to Ashes

When, sadly, the cigar is done, one must part with it. Some will smoke right down to a nub, until their fingers are singed. I recommend stopping when there’s about an inch to an inch and one-half left, about where the “band” is or was. The band is the cigar’s label, usually very intricate and decorative. You may leave a band on while smoking, remove it before lighting, or take it off once the stick is going. Bands that sit too high need to be either removed or pushed down a bit. You want your lips on the leaf only. If you move or peel off the band, do so with care. The band is a paper ring, closed on itself with a little dab of glue.

Sometimes the band is really tight, sometimes a little glue gets on the leaf and secures the label in place. The glue is a natural non-toxic plant material and won’t hurt you or the cigar. However, if ripped off forcefully, it can take part of the wrapper with it. Finesse is the key here. If it doesn’t budge with ease, leave it in place. As the fire approaches it will loosen up and then is easy to remove. Do not smoke the band! Not unless you like the added taste of burned paper!

When the cigar is done, just lay it in an ashtray. Don’t try to crush it out as this can cause flare-ups and an abundance of smoke which soon grows stale and stagnant. An active cigar produces wonderful smelling smoke. You may find yourself enjoying it second-hand. Stale smoke is, well, stale.

Meet the Regulars!

While you smoke, feel free to interact with those around you. Cigar shops are always the home of interesting men of many different walks of life. Join a conversation! If you’re new, they will likely want to know all about you. Have fun and make friends!

(Join the fun!)

The shop is an ideal place to get away and enjoy your free time. Not free? Bring a little work with you. In addition to smoking and talking, men find the lounge a great place to check emails, read, or write. I’ve crafted some of my best blog columns at Top Shelf Cigars. I’ve even met clients there. Keep the phone conversations to a minimum. If you must field a call it’s best to do it outside the lounge. While friendly, regulars are not nosey and don’t care to hear you talk to the wife or the boss. It’s a shame I have to mention this, but mind your manners in shop. Rude or obnoxious behavior will not only make you a pariah, it can get you ejected as well. Remember, it’s a happy place for respectful adults. No-one likes a jerk or a know-it-all. I’ve seen idiots bounced out. Don’t be “that guy.” Once you’re “initiated” into the regulars you will find out the personality of the place – usually collegiate with lots of good-natured humor. Thin skin usually isn’t well suited for lounging!

Cigars at Home

You can, of course, enjoy your smoke in the comfort of your home. Usually, with a wife and kids, that means out back, on the porch, or in the garage. I’m in the garage right now. Take the opportunity to create your own little cigar lounge! A chair, an ashtray, a cutter and lighter is all you need. Add a little fire pit or a radio and you’re in cigar heaven.

Smoke on the Road

The car can be a great place to smoke, particularly on longer trips. Keep a window cracked or down to avoid a buildup of stale smoke and to maintain road visibility. You may need to freshen the interior up from time to time as well. Be mindful that when you smoke the smoke gets in your clothes and can stay there. The people in your upcoming meeting may not appreciate it. The taste of smoke will also linger in your mouth and on your breath. You will get used to it but brushing or a little gum or mints will go a long way towards societal interaction post smoke. Bear in mind that in the tight confines of an auto, falling ashes will make a greater mess, and one harder to clean up. Falling embers (happens with the best sticks) can mean a hole burned in your pants or shirt. Take precautions as needed.

Public Relations

Cigars can be fun just about anywhere. They make yard work less tedious. They go naturally with a fishing trip. They can help one relax at the beach or in the mountains. I love strolling along behind my family on vacations, puffing away carefree. If I do have a care, it’s not to offend the non-cigar public. Oddly, not everyone likes cigar smoke. Be mindful of others and try as best you can to shield them from what they might find offensive. Don’t go out of your way but exercise a little curtsey. All cigar lovers benefit from good public relations.

(Cigar in the park on a cool fall day. Ahhhh.)

Cigars on the Rocks (Drinks and Smokes)

In the comfort of your home man cave or the comfort of your home away from home, you may decide to pair a cigar with a suitable adult beverage. You want something that accentuates the taste of the stick, without drowning it out. Different cigars go well with different drinks – from Sprite to red wine. Usually I partake of either a dark ale or a short bit of single-malt Scotch whiskey. There’s no set formula. Again, you have to find what works best for you. As I’m typing here in the garage, I’m still smoking that beast of a 7×70. It’s a slightly stronger than average stick so I have paired it with The Duck-Rabbit’s Wee Heavy Scotch Style Ale – dark and strong (8% abv). Don’t let the drink overwhelm the smoke. A sip here and there between puffs adds a lot of enjoyment. Slamming glass after glass of 80-proof bourbon just gets you drunk – unless that’s your plan! I judge not, just offering my advice here.

Smoke Time!

Finally, I’d like to touch on when to smoke. The best answer is: whenever you feel like it and have the time. A Saturday morning cigar with coffee and the paper makes for a great time. After a long hard week, a friday night smoke is most relaxing. I know men who literally smoke from sunrise til sunset. Do what works best for you.

Conclusion

In doing your best with cigars you will join some of the greatest men in history. Mark Twain, Winston Churchill, and George Burns were avid cigar enthusiasts. Join them and your contemporaries in a great past time. Remember always your Kipling: “A good cigar is a smoke.”