Wrapper: Nicaraguan Corojo
Binder: Nicaraguan
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 6 X 52 Belicoso
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $9.75 MSRP ($5,75 online) (I paid $3.50 on Cigarbid.com)

I have had these things marinating for 3 months.
I found 3 written reviews. The reviewers that live in the rarified air above me didn’t touch this cigar with a 10’-0 dildo.
I really have sunk to a new low…oh lord.

BACKGROUND:
From Cigars International:
“AGANORSA and Nica Libre are two undeniable powerhouses of the Nicaraguan cigar market, both churning out delicious blends that can only be grown in the nation’s rich, volcanic soils. Now these two brands are collaborating on a cigar the truly captures the spirit of Nicaragua like never before. Introducing: The Nica Libre x AGANORSA!

“From the get-go, these two brands have set the benchmark for Nicaraguan tobacco quality, and the Nica Libre x AGANORSA raises the bar even higher. Made up of 100% Nicaraguan wrapper, binder, and long-leaf fillers, this cigar is bursting with medium-full bodied flavors of pepper, chocolate, coffee, and spice with ample complexity and a refined finish. Grab a box and you’ll agree, this collaboration was a resounding success.”

Well…no bias there…

SIZES AND PRICING:
Belicoso 6 x 52 $9.75
Robusto 5 x 50 $8.75
Titan 6 x 60 $10.00
Toro 6 x 50 $9.10

APPEARANCE:
As I roll the cigar in my hands, I feel hard and soft spots up and down the spike. But it is not a light cigar…nor underfilled to any great extent. Seams are visible but tight. Veinage is barely visible. The triple cap ain’t half bad. The golden-brown wrapper is smooth as glass with a nice sheen of oiliness. Damn, I think I let the purty cigar band sway me into purchasing it. Actually, I was in a state of higher ground when I bid on this cigar and figured that no way I would get a fiver for $17.50. I won, but then again, maybe I lost.

SMELL THE GLOVE:
Strong aromas of very dark chocolate, butterscotch, and creaminess. Followed by cayenne pepper, nuttiness, dried fruit, cedar, and barnyard.
The cold draw presents flavors of cinnamon, creaminess, chocolate, espresso, nuts, barnyard, clove, and cedar.

FIRST THIRD:
Surprisingly, the draw is just how I like it. I had my PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool ready to stab away…but I shall put it down and light a ceremonial bonfire around it this afternoon.

The stick starts with flavors of possum pancreas, toilet seat remnants, creaminess, red pepper, cedar, barnyard drippings, mustiness, and the always beloved mind-numbing dish of warm vinegar. Good start.

And a run has started. Methinks I shall make a run for the border as my green card expired years ago.

The cigar sends huge plumes of smoke into the air that reminds me of L.A. in the 1950’s.

It is tart. Not citrus tart…vinegar tart. I have a craving for a salad with a vinaigrette made of industrial vinegar and fresh horse gonad oil.

I find myself lapping my tongue outside of my lips trying to disperse the flavor into the air that surrounds me.

This isn’t your regular musty flavor…no. It is that kind of mustiness you find in gramps’ urn.
So far, so good.

The spiciness changes direction and it is becoming a very strong black pepper. The inside of my cheeks (my mouth cheeks) feels like I ate a piping hot Pop Tart.

Struggling to find its place in the universe of lousy cigars is a hint of creaminess that attacks my inner cheeks with an archaic 1880 fire hose. Pump away boys.

Yeah, this is a real winner. I know many smokers fell for the Aganorsa brand, like me. We are all idiot children.

The char line is a joke. Yet, I find myself not laughing. A grimace and a waffle maybe.

No chance of this cigar becoming complex. Zero transitions. And a horrific finish that would have been great tool at Abu Graib.

Maybe the second half will be better…or it could take me to the farther reaches of hell.

If I burst into flames during this review, I had it coming.

I’m drinking bottled water like a thirsty dog. It doesn’t help.

Time has slowed to a crawl. I see Rod Serling in the white light laughing at me.

Upon finishing this review, I will spend the rest of the day drinking Mylanta…straight up.

Strength is medium/full and just in time…the nicotine arrives to punish me for moving to Milwaukee.

I see the ghosts of blenders past…all giving me the finger.

I believe I would have preferred having a colonoscopy this morning instead of reviewing this fine cigar. Either way, I’m taking it up the ass.

SECOND THIRD:
I’m desperately trying to discover flavors…any flavors will do. But all I taste is drek on a stick. A very popular item at summer festivals everywhere.

It goes without saying this cigar is on a linear path to torture me into giving away the treasure map my grandfather gave me when I was a boy. That never happened but I had to say something.

Dry heaves would be a pleasant distraction.

My cheeks keep caving in as an involuntary survival technique.

I cannot taste a single pleasant flavor. Bésame Mucho.

The vinegar tartness just won’t leave on its own recognizance. What a mother fucker.

This may just be one of the worst cigars I’ve smoked. I hope you appreciate that I’m taking a blunderbuss to the face for you dear readers.
I look at the cigar in the ashtray and I swear its length keeps growing back.

A piece of wrapper comes loose near the char line. Nice.

This will be a real test of my testosterone to see if I can finish this defendant on trial at The Hague.

I see large clumps of hair growing on my knuckles.

Years ago, when I was taking a cabinet full of meds prescribed by my pain doc after my skydiving accident, I was taking a dump and a turd with the density of plutonium got stuck half in and half out. Nothing I could do. I panicked. I dialed 9-1-1. The paramedics showed up. I ran to the door with a giant turd hanging out of my ass. I let them in and as I did so, the brown bomber fell to the floor. They all looked down at it and asked if I wanted to go the hospital? I sent them away. I made a Lucite pen and pencil set with the remnants of my bowels.

I grab my cutter and reduce the length, so it is now about to start the last third. I am ashamed and happy at the same time.

LAST THIRD:
Flowers and angelic figures dance in front of my eyes.

Strength is full tilt of course. Nicotine has shut down the part of my brain that enjoys sex with farm animals. My goat, Nicholas, is going to have a vacation day.

Ha…”Don’t Let Me Down” by The Beatles is playing. The Cosmic Muffin is having a field day with me.

When the blenders decided that this cigar is perfect, I wonder just how drunk they were when that decision was made.

Why would anyone foist this thing on to the smoking public? To get them to stop smoking cigars? Maybe it is a ploy by the American Cancer Society?

Still waiting for Flavor #1 to exhibit itself in all its nakedness.

I’m guessing the demographic they were shooting for are smokers with serious mental issues. Now that I think about that statement, that includes all of us.

Maybe I should tell a joke.
I don’t know any.

This is like smoking a liver pate sandwich deep fried in dung oil and sprinkled with dingleberries.

“Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys is playing. Love that song. It is a sign that this too shall end.

After this review, I intend on running naked outside til the cops come, jail me, and give me one of those delicious green baloney sandwiches.

I decide to play Russian Roulette with my Glock when this is over.

I ask for your forgiveness…I can’t go on. This is one horrible cigar.

RATING: A number is beyond my comprehension…how about an F?

Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS