Against All Odds

I’ve read a few interesting books lately, but the one that comes to mind this morning is “The Black Swan”.  Its’ premise is that it’s impossible to predict the future by analyzing the past, and that history and progress aren’t made incrementally, but in massive, unexpected leaps.  For example, consider the turkey.  It hatches, and learns over the course of years that people are friendly, feed it, and clean its’ cage.  The turkey’s level of comfort rises a little each day, so that if you were to plot it on a graph, it would be a steadily rising straight line.  Then, the day that the turkey’s comfort level with people is the highest (it’s higher every day, so every day is the highest), it happens to be November 24^th.  The turkey had no way of knowing that it was about to get the Queen of Hearts treatment.

 

What does this mean?  It means that you should always expect the unexpected.  As silly as that cliché is, it’s the truth.  You can’t know what’s about to happen, and it seems like there’s been a lot of that going around lately.  Hankering for a burger, I went to a place that advertised on those door-hanger things that sometimes populate the neighborhood.  I expected nothing.  I got one of the better burgers I’ve had in recent memory.  Juicy, tender patties, an expansive condiment list that you ordered off of, and fries bathed in Old Bay seasoning.  Delightful.

 

We have to step outside our comfort zones and open ourselves up to everything that this bizarre world has to offer, and be ready for anything to happen at any given time.  Why is everyone so shocked to learn that Tiger Woods was getting around?  Because no one thought it could happen.  Of course it could.  And it did.  Other things that could happen?  Paris Hilton could join a Convent.  A professional athlete could run a dog-fighting ring.  Kimbo Slice could become homosexual.  And a black man could be elected to the Office of The President of The United States.  Just because it hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean that it won’t.

 

On the restaurant note, the Girlfriend and I found what I thought was an Italian restaurant in Costa Mesa in the Zagat guide.  Yes, we’re snobs.  We drive there, and learn it’s in South Coast Plaza mall.  My expectation sank from Italian to I-talian.  We asked the waiter to surprise us with a pizza and a pasta, and, in a karmic reward of our trust, got what we considered as the best Italian food in Orange County.  Thin, crisp, simple pizza, delicious spinach ravioli in the best pasta sauce I’ve ever eaten, with a dark chocolate and hazelnut torte for dessert.  We’re going back.  Often.

 

We’re taught as young people to expect certain outcomes based on certain information.  Men in black suits are from the Government, men in blue suits are professionals, and men in shiny suits are either Mafia or pimps.  It’s this reason that makes your style one of the hardest things to change about yourself.  People tend to look the part that they play- you generally don’t see rugby players wearing pocket protectors, and mathletes don’t wear Ed Hardy.  But when you try something new, you might like it.

 

The Girlfriend also recently suggested that I get a pair of designer jeans.  Not a fan of the concept, I agreed to try on a few.  I picked out a pair of True Religions that looked absolutely ridiculous, for yucks.  Bright white stitching, giant horseshoes on the back pockets, and stripes highlighting the… family jewel area.  I knew I’d hate them.  But lo and behold, they fit well and look better on than they did on the rack.  I liked them, and decided to swallow my pride, and rock the Orange County D-Bag look from time to time.  The jeans go well with my obnoxious designer shirts- another thing I didn’t think I’d ever like.

 

I guess the thought this week is that you have to be ready, at all times, for all possibilities.  The people who capitalize on sudden changes are the successful ones, no matter what their chosen pursuit is.  Stay on your toes, and get ready to roll with the punches, because I guarantee that 2010 is going to be the year that fortunes are made.  Or, as Monty Python once put it, NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!

Change is the Only Constant

I can remember the first cigar I smoked.  I was in Jerusalem, and several of my friends turned up to our rendezvous smoking cigars.  I, naturally, decided to join them and followed them to a tacky tobacco/t-shirt/tourist trap hole in the wall located off the main pedestrian shopping area.  The man assured me that they were Genuine Cuban Cigars, and I didn’t know any better, so I bought two.  I also bought a green shirt that says “Coca-Cola” in Hebrew script (why I didn’t buy a red one is a story for another day).  So, I stepped outside and began the long odyssey that leads to me sitting here in Newport Beach typing this blog.  I lit up.

 

I don’t remember if it was a “Montecristo” or a “Romeo y Julieta”, but that’s beside the point.  I enjoyed it, and decided at that moment, as a 19-year-old in the streets of the Holy City, that I was going to be a cigar smoker.  Once I got back stateside, my D.A.R.E training kicked in, and I amended that resolution to be that I would only smoke cigars when visiting states that I didn’t live in at the time- that way I wouldn’t smoke too often.

 

Once I turned 21, a friend of the family completed a promise that he had made to me when I was six years old that he would take me to Las Vegas.  We checked in, headed to the car to drive to the Hoover Dam, and he handed me an Ashton.  Surprising him, I cut and lit it.  I loved that cigar.  Later on in the trip he gave me an Onyx to smoke- how dark!  How strong!  For years these were my two favorite cigars- the best cigars I’d ever had.

 

I reflected on this last week while working a surprise birthday party.  The Ashton is too light for me, and I haven’t had an Onyx in I-Don’t-Know-How-Long.  I had lit up a Diamond Crown, and was absentmindedly enjoying it when I remembered that I hated that cigar.  But I didn’t.  It was…. Good.  My taste had changed.

 

Everyone goes through phases in life- whether it’s Grunge music, mullets, saying “bro”, or smoking a certain cigar.  I think back to what I used to smoke, and can see a clear progression from very large ring-gauge medium-bodied cigars, to the ligero lanceros that I’m fond of now.

 

I am an ardent believer that you have to try everything twice, and not back-to-back.  The first time I tried sea urchin I ran outside vomiting.  14 years later, it’s one of my favorite sushi dishes.  The Diamond Crown’s flavor used to be terrible, but now I can see myself smoking it again.  Perhaps this weekend…

 

I used to wear a rat-tail, holey jean-jacket and HyperColor t-shirts.  What sort of funny/embarrassing/unique things did you used to do?  What sort of cigars do you find yourself coming back to?  We’d love to hear your story!

Another Happy “The Cigar Guys” Customer!

“Thank you so much for making my husband’s 30th surprise birthday party extra special! Everyone enjoyed the cigar bar and really made our theme come to life! Looking forward to future events with the Cigar Guys!
Enjoy the photos below “ 

 

Patricia Soto, Charm Event Design

The Ashes of Black Friday by Alex Lukoff

Well, the holiday season is finally here.  Deck the halls, ’tis the season, don we now, etc. etc. etc.  And for we Curmudgeons, Grinch’s and Scrooges across the country, the nightmare is now officially upon us.

Don’t get me wrong- I like National Holidays, gorging myself on gigantic meals, and getting so drunk I can’t tell the difference between “Blessed be Mordechai” and “Cursed be Haman”.  I’ll revel and rejoice, but just don’t tell me to.

I think that there are a lot of people out there like me- people who suffer through bad songs that, through some nostalgia or repetition, are accepted as good.  In SoCal, it’s difficult to hear “White Christmas” when it’s 75 degrees.  Oh well.

But, there is something that I do like about the holidays.  Presents.  And not even just the receiving- I actually enjoy the giving.  Any schmo can give someone a gift card or a sweater, but a memorable gift is as much fun to give as to get.  Some of my more memorable gifts given have included an ant farm, a set of “Chef Tony’s Miracle Perfection Blade 2″ and a salt lick.  Each one was memorable for the recipient, and showed a certain amount of thought and foresight on my part. Which, I think, is more important than spending a chunk of change.

Part of the built-in beauty of being a cigar smoker is that it makes gift-getting pretty easy.  But dangerous.  I know I’m not alone in having to smile and act excited in receiving a box of Kahlua Cigars or a Zippo lighter, complete with gasoline.  (Tony’s friend once gave him a case of Black & Mild cigarillos, believing them to be good cigars.) But sometimes someone gets you something memorable.  A stocked humidor, a nice lighter, or even just a single cigar, handed out from a box- one per person in the shop.

Just remember that receiving well is as important as giving well.  So this year, keep it simple, and give from the heart.  If you mean it, it’ll be appreciated.

What’s the most memorable gift you’ve given or received? We’d like to hear your story!

Memories from Big Smoke 2009 (Part 2) by Alex Lukoff

Saturday at The Big Smoke 2009

 

Saturday morning broke with a crash, as I slowly tried to shake off the hangover caused by too many rum drinks the night before.  Totally worth it- it was only a 2-asprin hangover, but I took three to be safe.

 

What to do to kill a few hours in the morning in Vegas?  Start drinking again.  A $1 Michelob at Casino Royale was the last little bit of medicine I needed to be back on top of my game.  I went to wake Tony at about 10:30.

 

We started by making our way over to RhumBar where, the night before, I had lost my 3-finger cigar case.  I had a one-year-old Master Blend 3 and a Paul Vato cigar in it, both of which are now gone forever.  Lady Luck demands her occasional sacrifice, and while I spoke to the staff and security trying to find it, Tony won $300 at a slot machine.  Typical.

 

To assist in the waking-up process, we headed back to Casa Fuente for coffee and morning cigars.  A beautiful pot of French-press coffee, a cigar, some old friends and being recognized a few more times was a wonderful way to start the day.  That morning, I set a dangerous precedent.  A friend and I decided that it was about time we smoked something new, and so, purchased two Don Arturo Fuente Gran AniverXario cigars.  For $75 a piece.  I’ve smoked a lot of premium cigars in my time, but I can honestly say that this cigar was one of the best cigars I’ve ever had.  I would recommend it without hesitation- next time you’re there, treat yourself and splurge a little.

 

Feeling hungry, we headed upstairs to Sushi Roku in Caesar’s Forum, in the rotunda.  Raw fish in the middle of the desert- better living through technology!  After sitting down at the bar, the chefs began to slowly warm up to us.  Tony ordered the sushi combo, and I ordered a few a la carte items- raw scallop, freshwater eel, monkfish liver and sea urchin.  Yes, I’ve eaten sushi quite a bit!  Halfway through our meal, the chef we were speaking with carried out a live flounder, and it was hideously ugly.  We watched, mesmerized, as he put a tea towel over it’s head, and proceeded to break it’s spine with one huge chop of the knife.  She (he later removed the egg sacks) curled up almost into a tube before laying flat.  From there, he removed its’ fins and tail, while the gills moved sporadically.  Finally he began cutting the skin off of the fish, finally ending up with one massive, perfect, beautiful fillet.  He held it up for us to examine, and we could see shimmering- the electrical impulses of the muscles still firing.  The then held up the severed head and, with a flick of the point of the knife, cut open the heat sack, in which the heart continued to beat.  Best.  Show.  Ever.

 

After lunch Tony and I split up to go do some shopping.  Nothing exciting happened for a few hours.

 

Finally, it was time!  We headed over to the Big Smoke at the Venetian, and arrived just in time as the doors were opening.  You’ve probably heard that The Big Smoke wasn’t as well attended this year, and that there weren’t as many goodies.  Well, it’s true, but who cares?  Unlimited scotch and beer, 24 cigars, pictures with beautiful bikini clad women and Turtle Soup- sounds like a party to me!  While walking the show, reconnecting with old friends and networking, we were actually stopped several times by people telling us that they loved our work!  How cool is that!

 

The evening ended up back at RhumBar, where rum drinks were consumed, UFC was watched, waitresses were flirted with, and Jerry Springer was smoking a Tatuaje, hanging out with Pete Johnson.

 

Eventually, Sunday dawned, and we packed up, checked out, and headed for the airport.  For our last surprise, we stopped at the store in the airport before security that sold cigars.  As we’re looking, the woman who owns it suddenly says “I know you guys from somewhere…”  After seeing our card, it becomes evident that she’s a reader!  Small, small world!

 

After a $20 burger, fries and milkshake at the Airport Ruby’s (highway robbery!) we walked over to Brookstone where we proceeded to hog the massage chairs for about 30 minutes.  I swear I’ll buy one of those stupid things some day.  The head massager, however, I can do without.

 

The grand total?  I smoked 12 cigars in 2 days, got 10 hours of sleep for the whole weekend (pretty good, actually!), and I’m scared to actually total up the credit card receipts to see what I spent.

 

I realized on Tuesday, speaking with a friend who was heading back after doing some business after the event, that even if The Big Smoke were half its’ size and half as well attended, I’d still go.  For me, it’s not about the event itself, but rather being surrounded everywhere by likeminded people- to feel like part of a bigger group.  I’ve made new friends every year I’ve gone, and am anxious to continue the trend.  Go, if you can, in 2010, and we’ll see you there.

Memories from Big Smoke 2009! (Part 1) by Alex Lukoff

Friday

Tony and I look forward to the Big Smoke every year.  Held in Las Vegas and hosted by the good folks over at Cigar Aficionado, it’s the perfect opportunity to make friends, rub elbows with cigar celebrities, and generally smoke all day, every day.  Perfect, right?  Well, last year Tony couldn’t make it, so I had to represent.  This year, with the business firing on all 5-cylinders (I drive a Jetta), the blog getting a thousand hits a month, and almost 1200 Facebook friends, we knew it would be different than years past.  But we had no idea how different!

We flew in on Friday, leaving Long Beach, CA via Long Beach Airport on Jet Blue.  If you haven’t flown out of Long Beach you should for the following reason:  We arrived 5-minutes before boarding, and made it onto the flight with no incident.

Once we were on the ground and winding our way to the cab stand, Tony started Facebooking, and discovered that one of our FB Friends was at a cigar shop on Paradise Rd.  We walked in and Tony (being Tony) shouted, “Who’s Jeff?”  Jeff said, meekly, “I am”, at which point we introduced ourselves.  Watching his eyes widen was hilarious!  He said “I figured you guys were just royalty-free pictures!  I didn’t know you actually looked like that!”  We had beers and cigars for a while before we got a cab back to the hotel, and talked about how much fun that experience was.  Little did we know what was in store for us.

After checking in and putting on our “Whatcha Smokin’?” Cigar Guys shirts, we headed over to Casa Fuente in Caesar’s Forum.  50 weeks out of the year, it’s a relaxed place to have a drink, a smoke, and generally relax.  During the Big Smoke, it’s a zoo.  Every chair is filled, and people stand around chatting while they wait for a table.  We had sat for maybe 5-minutes when it began.  A cigar smoker from Missouri recognized us and sat down with the owner of his local shop.  We were soon joined by an LA lobbyist and a NY disc jockey.  And as soon as one would leave, another IT manager from Chicago or a cigar manufacturer from Las Vegas would stop to introduce themselves!  Carlito who?

After a couple of cigars, we headed off to the Venetian for dinner.  We had reservations at Bouchon, which is owned by Thomas Keller- widely acknowledged as the best chef in America.  As appetizers, Tony had Sweetbread Ravioli and I had a Grilled Octopus Salad with pink grapefruit and oranges.  Dinner was Lamb, medium for Tony, and I had Boef Bourguignon.  I kid you not, it was fantastic.  Like, last-meal-before-the-electric-chair good.  A lemon tart finished it off.  With an Arnold Palmer and a glass of wine, the whole meal was $130 for the two of us.  Pretty reasonable!

While at Casa Fuente, we had heard about a new cigar bar and club that had opened at the Mirage next door called RhumBar.  I headed over there with some friends I had met up with at the Venetian (somehow they had befriended a Catholic Priest… what happens in Vegas!) and Tony arrived shortly after.  This party was off the chain/hook/charts!  Inside is one long bar, with one long table running parallel, with stools along each.  A few TV’s, great selection of rum, and friendly bartenders.  Nothing unusual.  Outside was a different story- tons of large, comfortable chairs and couches arranged in groups, heaters and TV’s make this the best outdoor hangout spot in Vegas!  The waitresses were as friendly as the bartenders, the drink prices are good (get the Latin Manhattan!), and there was enough space for us to hang out with a dozen friends (literally) and not feel cramped!  The latin percussionist pounded out a rhythm, the rum drinks flowed, and we partied with Rocky and Nish Patel (Rocky Patel Cigars), Pete Johnson (Tatuaje), Carlito Fuente (Fuente Cigars) and Dion Giolito (Illusione Cigars) until they closed the place down.  At 2:30am Tony disappeared to gamble, and I went wandering with my friend Chuck and our new friend, The Fadda.  Apparantly, Chuck had some sort of crisis, as he couldn’t swear, chase women, gamble or smoke in front of the Priest, who had no compulsions about doing any of the above.  The guy had a hell of a story, and I enjoyed talking with him.  Chuck eventually ditched us, and we called it a night at 4:00am.  Bidding him goodnight, I went back to the hotel and crashed.

Check back this week for Saturday and Sunday’s blow-by-blow analysis!

Are Ultra Premium Cigars Worth the Price? by Andy Picone (guest contributor)

Not quite as taxing as the Rolex versus Timex question, yet perhaps a bit more interesting.

When asked, a group of seasoned cigar smoking friends offered a resounding no. Derived from various walks of life, not one of these folks could give a solid reason as to why a single cigar should demand a $25+ price tag. Addressing the issue from a financial perspective, some choose to compare the pay scales of tobacco workers, to a broader guess as to the cost of production. Based on these factors, this group could not justify the cost or determine a value. I believe the answer is a bit deeper.

We are seeing tobacco manufacturers applying Marketing 101 to their ultra premium brands. They include wonderful nomenclatures such as limited production and special edition. Some tie the brands to people, moments in time, birthdays and alike. They will peak consumer interest with public relation-based tease campaigns. Special release dates are selected and distribution begins albeit limited, by design. Do you remember finding, then paying $35 for the Padron 45th Anniversary cigar?  Guilty as charged.

Ultra premium cigars must deliver a quality, flavor and body keeping with the high price tag. The cigar needs to produce a special flavor, be constructed beyond compare, burn to a razors edge, and leave your ashtray with a stiff remnant, pure white as the driven snow. Often times, the seasoned smoker is more likely to accept a defect in a less expensive cigar, but not from an ultra premium. A plugged cigar, or one that produces a headache-inducing draw, perhaps a runner, or one whose ash drops off from the breeze of a passer-by will not be tolerated. A wise man once told me, “a happy customer will tell their experiences to 7 friends; an unhappy customer will tell 16”. Quality control of these cigars must be of the utmost prior to the manufacturers. Make it perfect, and the sky is the limit. A marketing success story but could just as easily become a marketing fiasco should the product not deliver on its promise of superior quality.

The emphasis on quality of the ultras opens an interesting can of worms. Is there any benefit to the lower prices cigars produced by a manufacturer when stricter quality control standards are place on the ultra premium cigars in his portfolio?

I believe so.

The manufacturer understands the lower priced entries may used as a stepping stone by the consumer to their higher priced brands. He wants to offer a great smoking experience across all levels, without fear of alienation. Further, the manufacturer may run into a public relations nightmare if their lower priced cigars are constantly riddled with production problem, yet the ultra’s remain flawless. This is a situation they will attempt to avoid at all costs. Finally, a wonderful old world charm appears to be in place with manufacturers I’ve had the pleasure to meet. To them, their reputation and in some cases, that of their family is at the core of their success and they work quite hard never to have it tarnished by poorly made products or underhanded dealings.

To sum up, the flavor and craftsmanship offered by ultra premium cigars is exactly that, ultra premium. I’ve smoked my share of these cigars, and have yet to be disappointed by their performance; never once regretting having spent the money. Cigar manufacturers understand that perhaps the greatest trait of any cigar smokers is the ability to vividly recall a smoking experience at the drop of a hat. So whether you pick up a corona for six or twenty six dollars, their wish is only for your total enjoyment. Candidly speaking, they cannot bank on anything else.

(P.S. Alex and Tony will be in Las Vegas for the Big Smoke this weekend- Casa Fuente Friday night, Big Smoke Saturday!  Say hi if you’re around, and we’ll have a full write-up next week!)

“The Style vs. Your Style” by Alex Lukoff

There once was a time when the men were men, and women were happy for it.  A man would come home from a hard day at work, kiss the wife on the cheek, pat the kids on the head, pour himself 4-fingers of scotch and sit down in his den with a newspaper where he was not to be disturbed.  Once adequately sequestered from his family, he would pull out his trusty pipe and pack a bowl.

What happened to this vision of married life?  No, not the cooking (my girlfriend can’t, so I have to), the alcoholism, the anti-social behavior or the decrease in the living wage.  The pipe part.  What- you were expecting another lecture about the decay of modern society?

The world of tobacco used to have three clearly delineated classes.  Cigarettes were for welders and mechanics, pipes were for accountants and white collar workers, and cigars were for plutocrats and robber-barons.  But all that changed.  I think it was the 60’s, when light beer, TV trays and microwaves encouraged this country to GO GO GO!  Hurry up, eat fast, watch this, drive big cars, and god forbid you act like a European.

In our quest to work harder and do more, we didn’t have the time to stop and enjoy a smoke anymore.  A cigarette takes 4-minutes, but cigar is 45-90 minutes, and a well-packed pipe can be an hour.  For the masses, the choice is clear.  But, I like to zig when others zag.  I’ve been a cigar smoker since college, and recently picked up a pipe again.  Having not smoked one in a decade, I was anxious to see if my new skills would translate.  What I discovered was a smoking experience left over from another time, like a coelacanth.

With a pipe, it’s not light it once and maybe even out the burn.  It’s an activity that requires attention and patience.  Assuming that your pipe is already broken in (broken in!), even packing the bowl is an art form that requires practice.  Once you light it (different techniques abound!), you puff, slowly and gently.  Like a cigar, don’t let it burn too hot, or you can crack the pipe itself!  Then, inevitably, it will go out.  So you tap out the ashes, tamp the tobacco down, and re light.  Then it’ll go out again.

It can be frustrating, all this tamping and re-lighting.  Not to mention that your friends will probably call you “Sherlock” at least twice.  But the reward is in the process.  You find yourself slowing down, enjoying the activity.  Feeling the bowl heat up, testing the springiness of the tobacco.  Carefully and evenly re-lighting.  And of course, that heavenly aroma!  I’ve never smelled a bad pipe tobacco, and it seems like everyone has some memory that can only be accessed through the olfactory glands.

I guess, like everything else, it comes down to who you think you are, and how you choose to portray that image to the world.  For me, sitting outside a coffee shop with a packed pipe and a little classical music while watching the world go by is about as good as it gets.  I know some people will make fun of me, but I’ve got thick skin, and I know that most people will appreciate the reminder that their grandfather loved them.

“Go Baby Go” by Alex Lukoff

I had a strange Friday last week.  A very different couple of obligations were on my plate, and they caused me to reflect back on them over the weekend.  Of course, it’s often that we have multiple commitments in a day, what with Blackberrys, iPhones and Microsoft Outlook, our days are more precisely scheduled than ever.  But sometimes you have two things to do that are so different, they make you question your worldview.

I was asked to visit a high school on Friday.  A friend of mine, a math teacher, has a student that she said was guaranteed admission to the UC system if he would only write a personal statement.  But he couldn’t.  An extreme case of writers block.  The teacher knows about this blog and my (unique) writing style, and asked if I would be willing to spend an hour with the student to help him collect his thoughts.  I was happy to.

In one week of writing, he had produced one short paragraph.  But that paragraph was an emotional gut-punch.  He was trying to compress his entire unpleasant past into as little space as possible, which I found to be very telling.  It’s understandable why a high school senior would be embarrassed about having to sleep on the floor with his parents and 3 siblings in one room, or being homeless for 6-months, or having to move from relative to relative with his family.  He was a good kid, well spoken, and very smart, but he couldn’t seem to group his thoughts in any coherent manner.  He would look me in the eye when telling me about his aspirations and work ethic, but would quickly stare at the ground when his past was discussed.

After an hour, we had a few small breakthroughs.  I told him stories of people I had known that had succeeded against great odds, that he could achieve his goals.  I assured him that high school was not forever, college wouldn’t be as scary as he thought, and that one day, the pain of his childhood would just be another part of his history and not a defining characteristic.  His goals of merely wanting a better life for himself and his family were admirable, and made me feel ashamed of my materialism.

After I left campus, I went to Santa Anita to the horse track for a law firm’s annual mixer.  A few short hours after I had arrived on campus, I was rubbing elbows with corporate attorneys, business owners, entrepreneurs, and bankers.  The conversation was cocktail-party pleasant, but there was no depth.  People talked about business, the economy, health insurance, and business.  And as the bugler called everyone’s attention to the track, my shrimp cocktail and bourbon tasted sour.  As the bell rang and the gates opened and people threw money at the bookie’s window, my lamb shank somehow didn’t have the flavor it did last year.  Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time.  But I’d rather put my money on a different race.  I’d rather cheer for a math student than Teacher’s Pet.

“Everyday Absurdity” by ALex Lukoff

What do you do for fun, and where do you do it?  I know that one answer is that you read this blog, and that’s probably done at your office when you should be working.  But what else?  Are you a gardener?  An equestrian?  Golfer?  An Oenophile or a Cigar Aficionado?

 

I have a number of hobbies, but I have an unusual curse.  Like my father before me, my brain has been cross-wired to associate work with play, and play with work.  One manifestation of this unfortunate mental mix-up is the tendency to play in charity golf tournaments, but not 4-somes with my friends on the weekend.  If there’s a way to make something work-like or relaxation-like, I’ll almost always choose work.

 

So what’s a poor, mixed up guy to do?  As the song says, get your kicks on Route 66.  It’s a boring road, but I guess people found a way to have some fun on it.  Which is kind of how I view the world- an otherwise boring place that demands that you make your own fun.

 

As I shared in a previous entry, one of the things I like to do is to tell the waitress to bring me the burger of her choice, but nothing with Jalapenos.  Any burger on the menu is fine.  There are other times that you’ll find an opportunity to talk to a stranger at some unexpected moment as they’re momentarily having the same experience as you.  Or, you can walk up to a cigar smoker at a coffee shop and ask “Whatcha’ Smokin’?”

 

Recently, I saw someone who I’m sure would have been an absolute laugh riot to spend a day with.  While crawling up the 405 Freeway at 5:30pm on a Friday, I found myself stuck behind a green Honda Element.  The back had stickers on it.  Actually, not on it- all over it.  Scooby Doo, rainbows, the Mystery Machine, as well as drapes on the inside of the window.  I got the distinct impression that Shaggy was at the wheel.  As we worked our way towards the exit ramp, I let him merge in front of me.

 

Right as I let him in, the driver flicked on his rear windscreen wiper, and attached to it was a miniature American flag.  He was waving the flag at me as a sign of appreciation!  I laughed out loud at the absurdity.  Then he got over another lane and did it again!  It was such a refreshing bit of madness in a traffic jam, such an honest expression of inner-joy and merriness, that I couldn’t help but be in a better mood.  We should pay that guy to drive around the freeways and wave at passing motorists.  And let him smoke all the weed he wants.

 

Home may be where the heart is, and every dog has his day.  But, life is what you make of it, and fun is as fun does.  Go have some fun out there today.  Oh, and write to us!

“I Coulda Been Somebody… I Coulda Been a Blogger” by Alex Lukoff

Hey! So you think you got what it takes? Can you hold a nation spellbound with the written word? Even if you can’t do you have something funny, original or interesting to say? If not, you can ignore this. But if you do, write to us!

Send your blog submissions to info@thecigarguys.net. We’ll review them and post the best/funniest/strangest articles. But it gets better- if your article is chosen as the best of the month, we’ll send you a cigar! A good one, even!

So get typing- the world’s waiting to see what’s on your mind!

“Them/Those/They/There” by Alex Lukoff

The consensus around the world seems to be that it’s shrinking.  Not “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” shrinking, but that technology, through the internet as well as planes, trains and automobiles, is conspiring to make us all a little more aware of our neighbors.  After all, this blog has readers all over the US and Europe, whereas my rantings would ordinarily be confined to whomever was too slow to run away from me.

 

I can buy an ALF plush-doll from a stranger in Norway on E-Bay, I can sell my car to a collector in Norfolk, VA on AutoTrader, and of course, I have Facebook friends all over.  Our connection to all these people is tenuous, at best.  We know of them, their lives, and where they live, but we don’t really know about them.  But to take you back to your high-school foreign language class, they will always be 3^rd person references.

 

As small as the world has become, and as small as it is going to get, there will always be people who are beyond the pale.  People in Somalia, Phuket, Tibet and Haiti.  Closer to home, there are families in the Appalachians, Bismark, Baker and Concrete who need real help.  But, since they don’t have a YouTube Channel to “Broadcast Themselves”, their pleas go unanswered.

 

Fortunately, this world is full of people who are better human beings that I am.  Charities abound, and whatever your cause- getting young people into politics (www.millennium-momentum.org) helping families in the Dominican Republic (www.cf-cf.org), assisting families in low-income housing (www.project-access.org), or providing mentorship to directionless youths (www.bbbsa.org), there’s an organization that’s ready to accept your help.

 

Last weekend, Tony and I went to Camp Whittle at Big Bear Lake to support Big Brothers Big Sisters of Orange County by teaching a cigar class at one of their fundraisers, called Big Boys Men’s Camp.  Basically, you spend a weekend up in the mountains shooting pistols, riding horses, throwing knives, running obstacle courses, driving a bobcat, drinking scotch and smoking cigars.  In short, it was a blast.

 

But I noticed that a common vein running through the whole weekend was the discussion of service.  Many of the men there had been Big Brothers in the past, and discussed what their Little Brothers were doing now.  The pride that filled their faces was a sight to behold.  The second evening the featured speaker talked about how he and his brother grew up highly neglected, fending for themselves from the age of 13.  He expressed the opinion that his life (business owner, entrepreneur, college graduate) would have been much different if one person hadn’t looked at him as an employee at the local movie theater and said “You can do better.”

 

I once heard someone explain, after he said that his charitable giving centered around giving panhandlers change, that he hoped that they would use it on booze.  As he said, “Most of these people are not one hot meal away from turning it around.  What’s wrong with a little Novocain to get them through the night?”  Many people may find it barbarous, but I’ll say this.  He was doing something.  What do you do to leave this world a better place than when you found it?  Remember, every Them/They/There is an Us/Me/Here to someone else.  Do something- anything.  Just don’t do nothing.

 

 

If you’re interested in learning more about any of the charities I listed, contact me at Alex@TheCigarGuys.net.  I have personal connections at each.

“The Traveling, Smoking Salesman” by Alex Lukoff

It’s been interesting over the last 10 years to watch the increasingly fast-paced technological world that we live in try to drag the old-timey personal-relationship model into its’ instant-gratification clutches.  Dating websites say that they’ll help you find your soul-mate in a weekend, TV game shows have MBA’s competing for internships with entrepreneurs, and six football games are beamed into our living rooms at one time, on the same screen.

 

It seems like some areas of our lives are gone forever- no more fireside chats with the President, no more 3-martini lunches.  But, I believe that even though the business of business is business, there will always be space for the cigar meeting.

 

I think of myself as a bit of an anachronism- a CrackBerry-addicted, car loving, cigar smoker who sells life insurance and still makes cold calls.  Willy Loman would be proud.  But even as the modern world’s hydrogen fuel cell car races ahead, the steam locomotive will always hold a place in our hearts.  Nostalgia is tenacious.

 

Telling someone that you’re a cigar smoker makes a statement, as you can imagine.  If you’ve sized them up right (i.e. not anti-smoking Calvinists), they’ll come to view you as more than the product you sell, or the company you work for.  Saying you enjoy cigars humanizes you, and can serve to knock the other person off balance just a little bit.  No one volunteers that type information in a professional environment, which is why you should.

 

I remember one cold-call I made a few weeks ago which illustrates this point- I’m on the phone with a guy who is busy telling me all the reasons he won’t meet with me, including his circle of friends, all of whom are geniuses.  “We get together all the time and they’re the smartest guys I know.”  While he was feeling smug, I asked something he wasn’t expecting- “Do you get together over Scotch, Poker, Cigars, or all three?”

 

The other end of the phone went dead.  “How did you know?”  He asked, suspiciously.

 

My answer?  “I didn’t- you just sound like a lot of guys I know.”

 

It wasn’t intended to be a “gotcha” moment, or a bribe, but merely a way of showing him that even though it was a sales call, I’m as real as he is.

 

I had another meeting recently with a guy who I haven’t seen or spoken with in almost 2 years.  We had met in a cigar shop and planned to meet at 3:00 at a local restaurant with a covered patio to have a smoke and a drink.

 

Our conversation was great- we talked about business, global politics, aviation, cars, cigars, women- just about all the meaningful topics.  And had we sat down in a conference room somewhere, across a table, none of it would have happened.  At least, not as comfortably.

 

Having a business meeting over a cigar allows you a number of opportunities that you wouldn’t have otherwise.  The chance to bond over a shared interest, to get away from the typical business meeting setting, to show your generosity by offering a cigar, and your graciousness by accepting.  Last but not least, you get to punctuate your thoughts with a long draw……….

 

…………..

 

…………..

 

…………..

 

…before finishing your sentence.

“These Are All Just Words” by Alex Lukoff

 I have always taken great pride in the complexity of my worldview, as well as my multi-faceted frame of reference. Throughout the years it has served me well in my quest to confuse friends and alienate people. But, due to my natural animal magnetism, people tend to stick around and accept the good with the unexpected.

With my entire life as a mine of minutia, I feel it only fair to try and wind the clock back for my new friends, readers, acquaintances and detractors. This week, you’ll find not some idiosyncratic, obtuse rambling about some proletarian topic, but more of a glossary and guide to the works which have preceded this one. Some of my references, such as the title of this entry, are taken directly from my personal life, and would be meaningless without volumes of explanation. Others merely require a keen eye, an encyclopedic memory of pop-culture, and a frame of reference spanning decades of Jeopardy.

But let’s make it interesting- who ever can reply to this post with the most detailed, reference-riddled, Alex-esque comment will receive in the mail an Ashton VSG, compliments of yours truly. So here we go!

These Are All Just Words

“…complexity of my worldview”. Ignatius J. Reilly, of “A Confederacy of Dunces”

The Deafening Silence

“Vootschtaps”. A quote from Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” As in “Do you hear that?” “Vootschtaps!”

“Lobster claws for hands”. One of radio personality Tom Leykis’ favorites- “(to a woman claiming to be attractive) Head turner can mean anything- you could be 8-feet tall and have lobster claws for hands.”

“Glowing rectangles”. From The Onion, stating that 80% of the average American’s day is spent staring at glowing rectangles.

“Steven Crane-esque”. Author of “The Red Badge of Courage”, recognized as the first novel written in the stream-of-consciousness style.

Whaddaya Want?

“Whaddaya want?” A song by Buster Poindexter (aka David Johansen), released in 1987.

“Esquimaux”. An old, French spelling of the word “Eskimo”.

“Whatcha’ whatcha’ whatcha’ want?” A song by the Beastie Boys.

“…want to watch the world burn”. As said by Bruce Wayne’s butler Alfred in the movie “The Dark Knight”.

Puffer’s Paradise

“Valhalla”. Yes, I messed this one up. I meant to write Ragnarok, the all-encompassing war of Viking legend.

“Big Rock Candy Mountain”.  A song popularized in the Great Depression- a hobo’s view of heaven.

“Kearney, Nebraska”. My best friend from childhood moved there, and I visited him one December.  The two attractions were Wal-Mart and Cabela’s.

“Nicky Santoro”. Joe Peschi’s character in “Casino”.

“DuPont”. An expensive lighter.

“BBMF”. An $65+ Opus X cigar.

“Schadenfreude”. The sociological concept of taking pleasure in another’s pain or lower socio-economic status.

It’s All in the Details

I wrote this on my cell phone- nothing scholarly or erudite to comment on.

When More is Less

“Reprobate”. A moral-less, degenerate, scummy person.

“We gotta fight!…” Beastie Boys- “We gotta fight- for our right- to party!”

Giving By Receiving

“Somewhere in Mongolia…” Chaos theory- that every action at any place in the world can affect life somewhere else. The butterfly is a common example.

“The Question”. I referenced myself! Read the post “Why Do You Smoke Cigars?”

“…ask the fish why it swims… Willy Wonka.” The monologue that prefaces the song “Candy Man” in 1971’s “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.” Side note- Sammy Davis Jr. wanted the part of candy man, but didn’t get it.

So there we have it- you probably understand more about the inner workings of my mind than you ever would have cared to.

So let’s have at it! “Gripes, complaints- anyone wanna chip their teeth?” -My Psychology professor, Dr. Merle Prim.

“The Deafening Silence” by Alex Lukoff

 

Ssshhh!  Be quiet for a moment.  Just… listen.  What do you hear?  Is it traffic outside your window?  Someone on the phone in the next office?  The hum of your computer’s fan?  Vootschtaps?

 

We live in a noisy, fast, bright, screen-filled world, and sometimes, you have to un-plug and get some quiet time.  All the lovely sounds that there are to listen to are blocked out by cell phones, tv, that idiot raging about health-care reform, and music.

 

What are we missing that’s hiding within earshot?

 

The gentle, oily friction caused by drawing the cigar through your hand.

 

Crinkle- snap!  Cutting the cap.

 

ClickFWOOSH.  The torch.

 

The delicate crackling of the foot as you begin to puff.  And finally, the whooooooo of your exhalation.

 

I tell people that cigars involve all 5 of your senses, and new smokers look at me like I had lobster-claws for hands.  But if you think about it, slow down, and shut up, you’ll see/hear/touch/feel/taste what I’m talking about.

 

Think about your average day, if you will.  It’s probably something like wake up, turn on the news, get breakfast, get in the car, turn on the radio, get to the office, turn on Pandora and make phone calls, followed by the reverse.  Now think about this- how much of your day is spent staring at glowing rectangles?  The computer, tv, cell phone, gps, etc.  A lot, I’ll bet.  And what do you do while staring?  You have music on in the background.

 

Music used to be different than it is today.  Today it’s something you listen to in the car, on the job, and while exercising.  People say that listening to music is something they like to do in their off time, but that’s a lie.  Listening to music is something that the average person does to distract them from the fact that, at any given moment, they are alone.

 

I had a friend in high school who, just like Eric Clapton did when he was a kid, would go to his room, put on a record, and listen.  He would sit on the floor or in a chair, and listen to the record from start to finish.  No video games, no texting, no friends.  Nothing but him and the music.  That, my friends, is listening to music as a hobby.

 

It’s not your fault- I don’t drive anywhere without music on.  On one hand, it’s boring to listen to the sound of ordinary internal combustion (see the article about cars further down), but on the other hand, it’s nice to be able to play what you want at the volume you want.  The difference between being alone and by yourself, I guess.

 

But, sometimes, I turn it off.  I listen to the Steven Crane-esque monologue in between my ears.  If you’ve read a few of my posts, you can only begin to imagine what it sounds like in there.  In the car with the windows down, hearing the world as I go by, things begin to take shape.  Or, simply sitting on the patio, watching traffic and not speaking will allow the aural clouds to part.  Slowly, they come to me- Ideas, thoughts, plans, perspectives, opportunities, angles, businesses, memories and friends all go whirring by, until I have to grab my BlackBerry to write it down.  Then check my e-mail.  Damn.

“Whaddaya Want?” by Alex Lukoff

The sales profession is full of worn-out, tired one-liners.  One that comes to mind today is “To get what you want, help others get what they want.”  And yet, out of all the motivational claptrap that abounds and seems to cross all industries, this one I hold to be true.  The old adage is that a good salesman can sell ice to an esquimaux, which you can do- but only if you can get them to want it.  The only thing that the person who makes it doesn’t use, the one who buys it doesn’t want, and the person who uses it doesn’t see is a coffin.  I guess you could make the argument that dark glasses and white canes fit in the same category, but that would be distasteful (not like they’ll ever see this, anyway).

 

People buy and do because they want to, but there are times when they want something that they ordinarily wouldn’t. Tony and I attend a lot of weddings to provide cigars and to cut, light and educate, and have never had to sell someone on having a cigar.  Non-smokers come up and request them.  Sometimes they need a bit of direction (sometimes a whole lot of direction), but it’s not as if we hold them down and force them to puff.  Last weekend a number of women came to our table and requested the “smallest, girliest cigar you have”.  Chocolate, cherry or vanilla flavored?  Point is they wanted it.  A common follow-up question is “What’s your favorite cigar?”  For me, that’s a very difficult question.  I have a favorite size (lancero), but not one favorite stick.  I had a guy say “I’ll tell you my favorite- Macanudo and Cafe Crema.”  I smiled weakly.  Whatever you want, buddy.  Then again, he was wearing sandals and socks to a wedding.

 

Have you ever been sold a cigar?  I haven’t.  No matter how much Thompson Cigar wants me to take regular shipments, I don’t want to.  I don’t really care what they want.  Ultimately, we’re all selfish, vain, prideful creatures.  Some of us revel in it, some of us deny it, but all of us are guilty.  So personal taste is more a matter of personal want, which can be tricky as it depends on a great deal of factors.

 

To reference my favorite topic (me), in the mornings I want something light, so it’s something with a Connecticut wrapper.  With Scotch (Lagavulin, please) I like a Habano or Ligero.  And the later the evening and the more I’ve smoked, the darker I prefer the wrapper.  And, more often than not, any one of these wants can be superceded by the desire to have something new and experiment. 

 

So whatcha’ whatcha’ whatcha’ want?  There’s no right answer, but I think that the world would be a little better place if people would just let it go from time to time.  My favorite shtick- on the next rainy day, go to a diner and tell the waitress to bring you a hot sandwich.  Her choice.  Introduce a little chaos into your orderly, desire driven world.  Some men just want to watch the world burn, but some enjoy the occasional controlled brushfire.

“Puffer’s Paradise” by Alex Lukoff

Where is heaven?  Is it Valhalla- an endless, brutal all-encompassing war?  Or angelic boredom surrounded by cherubim and harps?  Or something more like what Harry McClintock theorized- On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees / Where the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings / In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

 

I’ve always felt that happiness is where you find it, and good times are all around if you keep your eyes open.  It’s all a matter of mindset and expectation.  If you can take life as it comes, one step at a time, you’ll generally enjoy yourself.  Of course, you’ll have a very different good time in Kearney, Nebraska as you will in Las Vegas.

 

Las Vegas has undergone a renaissance in the last 10 years, metamorphosing from “Sin City” to a family-friendly Disney-in-the-desert, and back to “What happens in Vegas”.  Of course, we know the real truth of the town.  As Nicky Santoro once said, “What do you think we’re doing out here in the desert, anyway?”  The answer?  Money.

So, how does one go to Vegas and make it home with your life savings intact?  There are three options.  1:  Win.  Improbable, but not impossible.  2:  Know your limits.  Have a set gambling budget, and stick to it.  If you’re up, quit, and don’t throw good money after bad.  And 3:  Don’t play.  My personal favorite.

 

How do I go to Las Vegas and not gamble?  It’s a matter of foresight.  I know that if I lay $200 down on the blackjack table and double it, I’ll be pleased.  If I lose it, I’m mildly disappointed.  For me, the real heartbreak will be hours later, when I’m staring at a new DuPont, or a 5-star menu, or a BBMF, and think “If I hadn’t lost those two bills at Flamingo, I could buy that.”  Torture!

 

So what do you do if you don’t gamble?  Relax!  Relish your anonymity.  Smoke and drink at Napoleon’s.  People watch at the Paris Café.  Walk up and down The Strip and see the construction.  Or, just post up at your favorite Sports Book with a few friends and watch the ponys.  Something’s always on.

 

My ideal trip includes dinner at Bouchon, sun at the pool, cigars and Caipirinhas at Casa Fuente, people watching at O’Shea’s and Fremont St., and kicking it with the High Rollers at the Wynn.  But, to each his own.  If you don’t belly up to the craps table, I can’t watch you lose.  Schadenfreude reigns.

Note from the Editor: We are always looking for interesting writings from other cigar enthusiast.  Please submit your story or thoughts to info@thecigarguys.net

“It’s All in the Details” by Alex Lukoff

As I sit here tonight, writing this, I’m struck by how my cigar and accessory-du-jour seem to… somehow… fit. At the moment, I have a Padilla 1932 (thanks, Pablo), a plastic cutter and Zippo Blue lighter. But why?

Like many cigar smokers, I have a lot of different lighters and cutters at home. My collection ranges from a $200 limited edition DuPont X-Tend to an $8 Nibo pipe lighter. And a ton of cutters from different cigar companies, lounges, etc. So why these accessories and this cigar tonight?

I feel relaxed, in my sheepskin loafers, shorts and T-shirt, and my lighter is scratched and durable. Kind of fits, doesn’t it?

So what came first? I always pair my accessories with the occasion, but sometimes I find it goes the other way. Even in flip-flops and a tank top I’ll feel more elegant if I use a wooden match than a Colibri.

That’s the beauty of cigars- you can craft your look to match your mood. Wearing a suit and smoking a lancero? It fits. Or a summer afternoon with a Coors Light, a Kuba Kuba and a dirty joke. Perfect.

And maybe that’s part of the shame that the general public’s perception of cigars being for the CEO cutting deals in a dark boardroom, or the millionaire playboy on the golf course. Cigars are for everyone at anytime- you just have to pair them correctly.

“When More is Less” by Alex Lukoff

Humans are a competitive species. Your friend at work gets a bigger office, you strive for a corner office. Your business partner buys a Baume et Mercier, you want to go get an IWC. Your neighbor buys a Corvette, you need a Ferrari. Same thing with sports- more is better. Except golf, but that’s a different article. We want to be better than others- to earn more, to travel more, to eat better, and to do interesting stuff more often. Usually.

Once again, cigar smoking lies outside the established rules. Cigar smoking is one of the few legal human endeavors in which someone who does less will look down at someone who does more. Kind of backwards, right? I’ve been to tons of events and talked with someone who will suddenly puff themselves up and proclaim with an air of confidence- peppered with a bit of rebellion- that they smoke one cigar a month on their porch at home. While they’re floating high above me, I casually ask if they ever frequent any lounges. The change in their facial expression is dramatic- from pride and confidence, to confusion, to disgust, to judgment all in about three-quarters of a second. “No,” they say, “I don’t smoke that much. Plus I don’t like to sit around and get all smokey.” A moment ago they were dashing rogues, now they’re puritans.

Why does this phenomenon exist? I think a lot of it has to do with the perceived health risks of cigars. Anyone who does a little of something bad (speeding, cheating on their taxes, heroin) is a rebel- someone who marches by the beat of their own drum. But someone who does that activity a lot is a reprobate. An addict. Not to be trusted. That places us cigar enthusiasts-both avid and casual- in a dangerous position. If someone who partakes in our own habit will also damn it, what chance to we have of convincing non-smokers that it’s harmless? That it should be legal and permissable? If we continue with the bickering and infighting, looking down at people who

smoke less or more, we’ll tear ourselves apart. A divided nation can not stand. We must band together and press on. We gotta fight! For our right! To stooooooo-giiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!

“Giving by Receiving” by Alex Lukoff

This morning, while sitting at my local coffee conglomerate, sipping my $3.50 cup of burned beans, something happened. Suddenly more aware of the joys that life had to offer, I was more sensitive to the whims of the universe.

Somewhere in Mongolia a butterfly flapped its’ wings. I got a whiff of someone smoking a cigar.
I looked around- hipster over here, punk-rock girl over there, and then I saw him. 65 years old, grizzled, white goatee and a black shirt. With a cigar. I moistened my lips in preparation of my recitation of The Question, when the breath was sucked from my lungs.

On the table next to my soon-to-be-new-friend, was a box of cigars. Pardon- not a box of cigars. Cigars in a box. A 4-pack of Grocery Store Specials. Sadness crept back into my life.

I generally don’t smoke at 8:00am on work days, but had I been smoking, I would have done what comes naturally. I would have offered him a cigar. When traveling and smoking, I almost always have at least a half-dozen with me, which I use to bribe people in to speaking with me, and offer as reward for approaching me to ask The Question.

People are often overwhelmed with my generosity, but to me, it’s just a cigar. I have almost 200 in my humidor at home, and they have little monetary value to me as far as gift giving goes. I know I’ll always have more.

When offering a cigar, there is an etiquette to receiving it, most of which is natural to people. I always start by refusing, or saying “Really?”, as though I can’t believe my luck. Then, if I’m already smoking a cigar, I set it down and leave it out in the open for others to witness my new friend’s generosity. It stays visible.

The next part is the tricky part- you have to smoke it immediately, or after you finish the cigar you’re already working on. It was given to you to enjoy, not to hoard. I give cigars away to share my good times with others, not for them to take, squirrel away, and enjoy in the company of someone they prefer to me. It hurts my feelings, and I always get a little bummed out.

Luckily, I’m usually already smoking a better cigar than that which was taken from me, and my resentment fades like the smoke rings I offer to the heavens.