Wrapper: Mexican San Andrés
Binder: Indonesian
Filler: Nicaraguan
Size: 6.5 x 54 Box Pressed
Strength: Medium/Full
Price: $13.00
Quantity Released: 1000 boxes of 20
Date Released: April 2024
Factory: Tabacalera Von Eicken S.R.L. Santiago, Dominican Republic

My cigars received 6 months of naked humidor time.

THE WHOLE MEGILLAH:
It’s a solid cigar. I like stoic sticks and I abhor featherlights. Sometimes buoyant dirigibles plump, sometimes they smoke like a Camel…cigarettes, not the humpy beast. The box press is uniform. Often when the box is emptied, the shape is as well.

Have we been here before with the ever-present Mexican wrapper and Nic guts? Is the addition of Indonesian leaves its flare? It seems everyone needs to add their two cents. Is this blend better than the average bear, Boo Boo? Let’s see…

The wrapper smells of gorgeous black cherries and the darkest chocolate beans. There is adequate barnyard going on but also sweet melon, graham cracker, and creamy vanilla.

My PerfecPunch doles out punishment to the cigar’s cap. Screams are heard for blocks. I adjust my panties. I hear a zither in the distance. My PerfecSmoke accessories board a tiny airport bus. They make no eye contact with me. Something is up. To be continued…

The cold draw is blistered with baking spices. But also a light mint, dark chocolate, espresso, nuts, biggie smalls, and chopped celery.

Enough fol de rol, time to goad the swine into plying its wares.

I placed an ad in craigslist looking for other feeble old players. My first response was another bassist suggesting I try playing for churches. I had no response.

My initial thoughts are I’ve been here a million times. Is it AJ? Is it Carrillo? Is it everyone else? If you’re going to add your entry to the been here, done that style of blend, then it better be good or you are depending solely on your fan base and not the rest of the cigar community. Over the hills and far away.

Aromas and cold draw morph easily on to my taste buds. Black cherry, chocolate, espresso, nuts, black pepper, mint, and baking spices.

You can get solid Nic guts with interesting wrapper from Stulac and for a few bucks less. This is my baseline for judging other contestants.

With 6 months of sleep, the blend should be singing. It is not. But it has me by the narglies and I shall show exceptional patience. Based upon its early burn, this is going to be, at the very least, a two-hour cigar. I better pace myself or this will be Ted Bundy’s manifesto of innocence.

I saw a segment on this week’s 60 Minutes about vets with PTSD using psychedelics while being monitored in countries other than the U.S. Results varied. It’s the same as with social self-medicating with hallucinogenics. Most do well and have a good trip…but some resist, fight, and have bad experiences. In the 70’s, I did shrooms and psilocybin a bunch of times. But the godhead of hallucinogenics is LSD. It was so time consuming that I only tuned in and dropped out 5 times. A trip lasts 8 hours. And then another 24 hours to feel truly functional again. Each time was fanciful and full of hippos in tutus…but also became serious learning experiences. But one trip was planned incorrectly. A friend and I dosed ourselves and went to Disneyland. Du-oh. Standing in long lines while frying is ill advised. But the most amazing thing I ever saw was Copeland and Kristina doing the shit every day for a month. And functioning like it was nothing at all. My last excursion was on my 25th birthday with friends and cohorts. That very next day was the first concert of Curved Air’s new tour which began in London. We sailed through it beautifully. 5 encores. Did we play OK? I can’t remember.

I know you’ve experienced this…the cigar starts off admirably and then it becomes parchment paper. Sort of dull and listless, like Cousin Gib Gablonsky who tapped out after eating a dozen noodle kugels. I’ve tried making mom’s version and I’ve failed each time. Maybe it was the memory and not the recipe. Nod your head.

There’s nothing going on during inch number one. There are no flavors. Oh no…I’ve gone palate blind! Or in medical circles, white and pasty. I’ll riff until something changes…

Tippi Hedren told me stories about her Hitchcock experiences. The one that stands out is that the iconic director was always on the hunt. Constantly putting moves on Ms. Hedren. Her husband, and my boss, Luis Barrenechea wished she had succumbed. Tippi was draining Lou’s bank account with her wild animal preserve called Roar. The man would visit the project management office of his structural steel shop and get drunker than a skunk each time after they went out to lunch. I would listen to him complain for hours. After a few times, I’d beg off telling him I needed to work and I wasn’t his psychotherapist. He didn’t like that much but since he was drunk, he didn’t remember the next day.

I’m starting to think that this foolish device is a mere land grab of its customer base. How can a cigar taste like nothing?

As a parting gift for Tippi after finishing The Birds (1963), Hitchcock gave her a fancy radio. The woman demanded that I find a long since abandoned battery style to fit in the damn thing no matter how long it took. Hedren was an odd woman who believed she was my better in all things. Probably not incorrect on that assessment, but she didn’t have to make it so crystal clear all the time. On the other hand, her daughter Melanie Griffith was pretty cool. She and her husband, Steven Bauer (Scarface), would hang out while waiting for the Barrenecheas as they readied themselves for an evening at the club. Bauer loved music and someone told him I played with The Police’s drummer. He would hang out listening to stories and rabidly discussing music…to the point that sometimes his mother-in-law became irate when he told her to just go ahead and he’d catch up… she was flummoxed…after all, he was talking to an insignificant plebeian.

It’s not completely tasteless: notes of marsupial first born, carboard figures, born in despair displeasure, and strong annoyance. Not bad for sucking on a tin barbell.

Reviewers carefully dissect each third of a cigar. I did so for years. And then I wondered where did this folly come from? Who made the rule that we shall follow like lemmings on holiday? Dunno. Is it something that the smoking consumer expects or is it an institutional lie?

Great new Led Zeppelin doc on Netflix called ‘Becoming Led Zeppelin. Just the boys recounting the good ol days as well as lots of unseen concert footage that is mind blowing. Takes me back to the late 60’s. Love. Peace. Understanding.

In 1969, I took a music appreciation course during my second year at university. I needed something easy inside my 7 classes per semester. For extra credit, I brought my Gibson EBO bass guitar and my small Marshall amp rig to class. I wrote musical notes out on the chalkboard. And then ripped into “Whole Lotta Love.” The class went nuts. I finished with Sonny & Cher’s “The Beat Goes On.” Everyone got the joke.

This cigar is a dog with fleas. I’m done. I’ll find a better what’s up tiger lilly next time.

Meanwhile, buy a Paul Stulac from sponsor Small Batch Cigar. Take 10% off with promo code KATMAN.

RATING: 666

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