Wrapper: Undisclosed
Binder: Undisclosed
Filler: Undisclosed
Size: 6.5 x 56 Toro Extra
Strength: Full
Price: $13.79
A friend donated this cigar to me as a gesture of love, affection, and hoping I’m into S&M. I’m allergic to leather and red balls.
The cigar has been in naked solitude since its release in June 2021.
This cigar has been a Viaje release since 2010 except for 2014, 2017, 2018, and 2020.
There has been zero info on the blend or the number of cigars released.
There is a very long pigtail on this cigar that runs from the cap to 4” down the body of the cigar. A fuse. The cigar is a rough looking character.
It’s fun to see the difference that a clock has on a blend…compared to a review that was timely to the release of the cigar. It is sometimes eerily similar and other times, totally different…good or bad.
THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
This Long Tall Sally is right up Dr. Rod’s alley. He likes ‘em big and tasty.
Me? I am placing a horse’s feedbag underneath my chin in case of projectile vomiting so that I can get through this mammoth stick. I ‘borrowed’ Charlotte’s oxygen tank because she is asleep. I hear her gasping, I’ll finish my thoughts and return the damn tank to her.
The wrapper aromas are intoxicating: Honeysuckle, sweet tangerines, dark chocolate, floral notes of roses and lavender, BBQ sauce, black pepper, cinnamon, caramel, honeydew melon, cedar, musk, dung, and rich earth. It will be difficult for this cigar’s flavors to compete with its aromas.
The cigar is as dense as the Baby Ruth in “Caddyshack.” Yet the draw is doable. It is a bit tighter than I like, but I’m trusting the mysterious cigar god, ‘Andre McHorowitzsteinbergenfeldfark’ to see me through. My PerfecDraw draw adjustment tool stands at the ready, with its uncircumcised head and runny nose, to dive in and give its life for God and Country. And I say, “Well done, Inanimate Seppuku Tool.”
Damn. The cigar has a partial closed foot I didn’t see. Fireworks as the debris and bits of fiery entrails cover my mink bathrobe. I can tell you the truth, from my age standpoint…excessive masturbation will affect your sight later in life. Thankfully, I’ve never had to shave my palms. But having that Nixon stubble ain’t cool.
Smooth as a sea otter’s tushy.
Lamentations and seclusion adjust to the light of day as this blend is resurrected thanks to the power of fire.
Damn smoke is everywhere. Gets in my eyes and I breakdown like a girly-man.
The flavors seek out sustenance from the soil of Undisclosed. A hearty country where farmers take pride in their land and the number of goats they possess. A place where the losers of cock fights are planted in the same ground as the tobacco…giving the final cigars it produces a ton of cock jokes that even Rodney Dangerfield would admire. “A priest, a rabbi, and a minister all have cocks in the ring…” Hence, the origin of the term cock ring.
The thing I don’t care for in giant cigars is that it takes some burn time for the thing to warm up and start pumping serious flavors. This cigar is in that category. Nice and creamy but no giant claws of complexity jump out early on. (“Not the craw. The craw!!).
Strength is a medium. But not psychic. Smoke and mirrors.
Early flavors are creaminess, strong black pepper, and matzoh ball soup.
The cigar has had two years of rest since its release this month in 2021. As I’ve said in a most monotonous tone over and over, some cigars soar with age and others are kicked to the side of the road. This TNT, even though only 1-1/4” burned, falls into the latter category. And in only 13 minutes of smoke time which feels laborious.
A sleight of hand provides my atrophied palate with a hint of richness. It could also just be morning gas. Who doesn’t enjoy their first morning bladder exhumation while their ass sings an aria of deep notes that sound like Pavarotti on top of a petite woman missionary style. I have photos.
The blend is OK. Speaking of which, at our age, Charlotte and I never have to pay taxes again. Ever. Although, we do donate to every charity for policemen and firefighters that call us on the phone. How do they find these guys with perfect radio station pipes?
The strength ups itself to medium full with only 1-3/4” burned. I grab the feeding bag and strap it on like a pro.
When I was a young man, I had a girlfriend who would attach a strap-on to her naked body. But that only initiated her chasing me around the bedroom while I screamed like a little girl. The next fact is true…I knew a guy, in his late 40’s, who had a girlfriend that liked strange bedroom tactics. He would lay on his back on the floor. He held a piece of large glass just inches over his chest and head. She would then take a dump on the glass…and promptly had an orgasm. Haven’t thought of that in almost 50 years. I mean, is that a view or what?
Yes, I’m killing time…so what?
I’m going to suffer through this cigar past the halfway point. If I don’t find a sweet spot, the cigar is history. And I’m going to find a large piece of glass in the garage.
As always, the moment I finish the above sentence, I detect movement.
Creaminess, cinnamon, sourdough bread, espresso, and a more purposed richness.
The burn is wonky but so are my spins.
“Down in Virginia.” Jimmy Reed. Authentic blues.
I spray my face with Charlotte’s “Vagina Cleanse.” It gives my palate new life.
We have full tilt strength that tests my wilting manhood. I tighten the feedbag.
This ain’t no flavor wheel blend. But…it begins to improve due to the aging. Its depth is throwing lemmings over the cliff like a crazy dunderhead. ‘Dunderhead:’ A person who spends his life asking teens to buy cheap beer for him at the liquor store.
My bowels spread like they are planning a break out.
I gotta pee. Nope. Not going there. Come up with your own story.
The Fabulous Thunderbirds. I once jammed on stage with Jimmy Vaughan on a Hollywood club stage. If you’ve read me more than once, you know I try to insert that comment as much as possible so you think better of me.
For an old man, peeing is almost as good as sex. I’m rejuvenated. A shame I’ve never smoked a cigarette.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the mammoth cigar that refuses to die.
3” burned. 55 minutes. I need to switch to my backup feedbag.
The blend is making its move. Complexity debuts. Transitions begin. The finish improves. I’m all in.
Deliciosity is on the horizon. A wild hoarde of ferrets can be seen in the distance.
The halfway point arrives. A sweet spot is born. It had no choice given that Roe v. Wade was struck down.
Projectile vomiting is on pause.
Dark chocolate, creaminess, black pepper, espresso, cinnamon, excrement fried in lard, Fruit Loops, and fresh blackberries.
A term needs to be invented for way past full strength. Delirium? Extreme Fervor? Engorged?
My office chair is lifted a few inches off the ground and then drops. My place is haunted. Supposedly, Dobie Gillis murdered a Proboscis Monkey under the misconception that it was Ginger from “Gilligan’s Island.” Now and again, late at night, visions of Maynard covered in chains roams our apartment at exactly 1:17am. You can’t make this shit up.
A baby Jesus miracle. The strength pulls me into a black hole and my taste buds are enhanced and virtual reality smoothness joins the disjointed flavor profile.
My vision returns. Maynard G. Krebs makes an unscheduled appearance.
Very creamy now. A lovely coating of chocolate and peanuts do a scene from “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” Simon Cowell gives it a thumbs down. Bastardo.
Lemonade climbs the gym rope in nothing flat.
I take another sip of Ipecac and my palate embraces the cappuccino.
The black pepper relents and allows a richness akin to seeing Beyonce in concert.
The blend is alive with varietals. Complexity is Soupy Sales with 12 banana cream pies at his disposal.
Depth reminds me of a woman who has given birth to 6 kids. An echo can be heard. Vaginal tightening is encouraged.
If the cigar had started with this new stately composition, I’d have rated the blend using Darwinian hypotheses. Which came first…the VW Beetle or fried kale?
I’m having a good time. My uvula can’t find its way home. But my bowels reconstruct into the shape of an onion bialy.
The cigar reaches its climax at 2-1/2 hours.
“Reefer Madness” is on Netflix. I gotta go.
RATING: 88
Categories: CIGAR REVIEWS
Cigar Reviews by the Katman 
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