It is Mr. Pipster. He’s no hipster, but I still like to think of him as a friend of mine. I’m not in my 20s anymore, so I’m certainly no hipster, either. The Pipster, though—- Pip is in a class by himself. I like him.
We aren’t close. I know his real name and I know his mailing address since I’ve sent him packages via USPS from time to time over the years. He knows my real name and my mailing address, too. How many people can you say that about, of all the people you know from only online? I’m not suggesting we’re bosom buddies, blood brothers, pen pals, or that either of us is someone who we’d invite to our children’s weddings. I doubt I am in Mr. Pipster’s will. He’s not in mine. We’re not that close. In a PSF way, however, over the years, we’ve bonded in the way forum members bond with each other—-a little at a time, incrementally. When I don’t see Mr. Pipster on the forum, I pray that everything is alright with him. I admire Pip and I’m not ashamed to say that in public. Mr. Pipster has a friend in New Orleans.
I don’t want to make myself a pest. I’m no stalker. What happens in Pip’s world is his own business. What happens in my world is my business. The two worlds sometimes intersect and overlap, but, really, we’re nothing more than irregular online chums. I don’t google the Pipster or follow him on Facebook, though he is certainly welcome to follow me should he feel the need. He doesn’t. There isn’t any reason to. We trade occasional quips here, on PSF. We respect each other when we encounter each other in the forum. We have our own personalities, which are two very different personalities. If I can say anything nice about Mr. Pipster, I can tell you that he isn’t generic.
When the Pipster has something to say, there is no question that Pip is at the keyboard. He is like a summer breeze: honestly refreshing.
Mr. Pipster and I share a love for inexpensive machine made cigars. It was Mr. Pipster who brought Muriel Hauptmann to life. Unexpectedly, I got a package of loose Muriel cigars and Hauptmann cigars in my mailbox one day. It was accompanied by a note that I’ll never forget. It said: “Oooh. Baby, baby. Muriel Hauptmann loves you.” Heh. Whenever I think of the Pipster, I remember opening that envelope. The Pipster is a showman when he wants to be.
Variety is the spice of life. We are all different kinds of people from different backgrounds and with different tastes. No two of us are alike. When Mr. Pipster is online, I’m reminded why I enjoy hanging out with this rag-tag collection of pipe-smoking knuckleheads. Throughout our ups and downs, no matter what is going on in our personal lives, I trust that I have a friend in Pip. I hope he trusts that he has a friend in me. A friend in need is a friend, indeed.
I’m not writing this expecting Pip to respond in any way. Maybe he’ll read this. Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he has more important things to do than fritter away his time on PSF tonight. Good on him for that. Pip is a family man. There is nothing more important than family. From my perspective, Mr. Pipster is part of my PSF family, as many of you are, too. God bless us, one and all. A tip of my fedora to Mr. Pipster. It is members like him, solid citizens, all, who make this forum a great place to pop into on a regular basis.
Pip, don’t change. Don’t ever change.
As Muriel Hauptmann would say if she was asked, "Mr. Pipster is in a class by himself." Muriel Hauptmann is right. You can't afford her, but Pip can!
Cheers, Pip! Thanks for being a member of PSF.
Pip kicks ass 
