Do You Have Prince Albert In A Can?
Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2020 3:22 am
Of course you do. I didn't - not until a week or so ago, when an order of fourteen, or so, different tobaccos arrived on my doorstep. So how does someone who has smoked more decades than he hasn't miss PA his whole life? I don't know. Just didn't sample any when I found one I liked on the third try. Odd, for me, because I generally appreciate variety (who doesn't?). So I have all these aromatics and blends of flakes and such that I've been sampling, finally getting 'round to PA a day or two ago. I posted that it was okay, it had its moments.
Well, I just went out for a smoke an hour ago, and I recalled the PA smelling and tasting like tobacco - and failed to notice any obvious flavorings like vanilla, chocolate or tutti-frutti, Oh, Rudy, and I like tobacco - was in the mood for tobacco, so loaded the Joyoldelf-Pear with PA, and hit the veranda, lights dim in the night at 0200 hours. Lit up.
PA in the wood pear had me somehow a touch nostalgic for an era in which I never lived... there ought to be a word for that... is there? Not coming to mind. PA tastes good in this pipe... but I can't identify any other flavor than tobacco, and I'm ignorant about it - I can't tell what type tobacco, for instance. Can it really be unflavored tobacco? I think so.
Regardless, I fully enjoyed the smoke and dottle all ash. It tastes like good tobacco to me, a man's smoke. I remember thinking just that. Then I thought it would make a nice mixer, too. Need to order a large tin of this. But sometimes a man just wants a manly smoke of tobacco, and this isn't a bad choice. Tough men, rough men...
Pawns
by Try Cob
Child of spirit, born of human flesh,
I walk upon the massive, sacred stone,
and taste this air I breathe into my breast.
And feel the jarring work within my bones.
One! And two! And three! And four!
And one! And two! And three! Once more
I swing the scythe, or sledge or axe
in rhythm with a million others' backs.
We pull the ropes, we melt the iron
and forge the grueling chains of Industry,
to listen to some fellow in a suit
explain this is the way that it must be.
We laugh into his face, collect our pay,
and meet on Friday nights down at the pub
wherein we dance and fight like men at play,
stalwart men with work and play both rough.
Children of the spirit, born of human flesh,
we walk upon this mass of molten rock;
seething inner core with cooling outer crust,
the muscled stock working as it must.
And now you can tell me about the really manly smoke I need to try on for size.
Well, I just went out for a smoke an hour ago, and I recalled the PA smelling and tasting like tobacco - and failed to notice any obvious flavorings like vanilla, chocolate or tutti-frutti, Oh, Rudy, and I like tobacco - was in the mood for tobacco, so loaded the Joyoldelf-Pear with PA, and hit the veranda, lights dim in the night at 0200 hours. Lit up.
PA in the wood pear had me somehow a touch nostalgic for an era in which I never lived... there ought to be a word for that... is there? Not coming to mind. PA tastes good in this pipe... but I can't identify any other flavor than tobacco, and I'm ignorant about it - I can't tell what type tobacco, for instance. Can it really be unflavored tobacco? I think so.
Regardless, I fully enjoyed the smoke and dottle all ash. It tastes like good tobacco to me, a man's smoke. I remember thinking just that. Then I thought it would make a nice mixer, too. Need to order a large tin of this. But sometimes a man just wants a manly smoke of tobacco, and this isn't a bad choice. Tough men, rough men...
Pawns
by Try Cob
Child of spirit, born of human flesh,
I walk upon the massive, sacred stone,
and taste this air I breathe into my breast.
And feel the jarring work within my bones.
One! And two! And three! And four!
And one! And two! And three! Once more
I swing the scythe, or sledge or axe
in rhythm with a million others' backs.
We pull the ropes, we melt the iron
and forge the grueling chains of Industry,
to listen to some fellow in a suit
explain this is the way that it must be.
We laugh into his face, collect our pay,
and meet on Friday nights down at the pub
wherein we dance and fight like men at play,
stalwart men with work and play both rough.
Children of the spirit, born of human flesh,
we walk upon this mass of molten rock;
seething inner core with cooling outer crust,
the muscled stock working as it must.
And now you can tell me about the really manly smoke I need to try on for size.