Well, color me gay. LOL. But I pipe from dawn to dusk. Clench from charing light to dottle ash. A one light piper, flying my freak flag as a smouldering appendage in the wind. It's there in every picture in the family photo album. It's with me doing laundry, shaving, sitting on the throne, reading, typing, driving ... you get the picture. Kinda like what Mark Munroe Dion writes about. The thin rubber ring in front of the button allows me to grip the pipe without fear of leaving dental track marks, chatter, or cracking the bit. For me, the rubber separates out the men from the boys. Like the taped fingers of the conga drum player, or the moleskin on the runners toes. A badge of courage facing the onslaught of the anti-tobacco world. My trigger guard, if you will.