Well I said I wasn't gonna do it (I'm a crackerjack Lurker; I'm of the firm conviction that throughout history many of our greatest accomplishments were achieved by Lurkers), but the overall tone and flavor (smoke?) of this forum just smacks of the contemplative, the cordial, and the serene (all qualities correctly attributed to the pipe smoker), so I am tossing my hat into the ring.
My name's James Sobieski, but if you try to say that out loud the two S's run together and you either end up with Jamesssssobieski or have to pause almost like a hiccup: James...*....Sobieski. Neither of which works well over a PA so I'm using my stage name, Jim Sobie. Why not.
For the past 43 years I've always lived somewhere in the Metro Detroit area (Warren, originally) but for the past 15 I've lived in Allen Park. Where's that? Well if you ever fly into Detroit Metro and catch a cab downtown you'll pass a large and fairly ridiculous giant Uniroyal Tire: 80 feet in diameter, 12 tons, originally a Ferris Wheel at the 1964 New York World's Fair. Afterwards nobody knew what to do with it, so we Detroiters did what we always do with unwanted tires: we chucked it out a window along I-94 until it rolled to a stop by the side of the road. It just so happens that slice of I-94 lies within Allen Park. There. That's a thing you know now.
Enough prattle. Tobacco. I've smoked cigarettes since I was 14 or so and loved every damn butt I ever smoked. When my daughter was born 12 years ago I resolved to quit, and quit with nasal snuff. I dove into the world of snuff (as it has its own forums, lingo, acronyms and argot), found my tastes ran to the Scotch snuffs of the blow-your-head-off variety, less so the sweet or candylike or flowery nose-confections of Poeschl or Fribourg & Treyer. The PACT Act dropped the curtain on that one, whoops.
I've had and enjoyed snus, chew, cigars, basically everything except hookah (because my wife draws the line at a pipe that stands 3 feet tall and gurgles), but cigarettes were always there, the fallback as it were. Vaping? Oh lord. I vaped before it was cool. I vaped the little cartridges, the big tank systems, the pods, the mods, the gods. In the end vaping frustrates me because I can do it anywhere, and because I CAN...I DO, and HAVE. Restaurants, Theatres, the bathroom, funeral parlors, and once during sex (just to see if I could get away with it). Also every vape LEAKS, and next thing you know you have sticky fingers and your watch pocket is gooped up and you have a cloud of yellowjackets following you around, yeah it's a bad deal.
Finally on the sixth paragraph, pipes. My father split 25 years ago and left behind most of his crap, amongst which was an old Hudson's box (anybody remember Hudson's?) filled with pipes gathered over his eclectic smoking career as a pipeman in the 1960s, before he hung it up. A lot of weirdo pipes, most of which I will probably tote up to Paul's in Flint one day to barter away, but amongst them two very serviceable Pibe-Dans, a Kriswill bent and a big Malaga poker from the old Malaga shop in Royal Oak, MI (now long defunct). I quit vaping for the last time with a pack of the ever-present Newports, then scowled, dragged out this Hudson's box, picked out 4 of the most reasonable briars and snapped up a packet of Prince Albert, then vowed afterwards to diversify.
I lurked here for quite a while, but then had to bring myself to a decision before I fell into Analysis Paralysis. I realized that, as Muttnchop has said, if there are 4 types of pipe smoker, I'm definitely the tobacco connoisseur. While I respect big and pretty pipes, a cob is just as good a smoke as any and I'm kind of a steak-and-potatoes guy. I ordered two MM Mark Twains and two Country Gentlemans, and then followed that up with:
1. Orlik Golden Sliced
2. My Mixture 965
3. Cult Blood Red Moon
4. Plum Pudding
5. 1-Q
6. Arango Balkan Supreme
7. Sutliff Vanilla Custard
Retired to the porch over the past few weeks to sample, to puff, and yes to gulp (reformed cigarette smoker, yes I know inhaling is Not the Way but a few good lungers of burley with your morning coffee will get you firing on all cylinders). I'm realizing I'm not the aromatic type. 1-Q is okay when sipped, vanilla custard is...well it smells nice but my coarse palate simply can't parse the joy. But oh that Balkan, oh that 965...tonight was my first flake of OGS and the sprizzle of perique in my sinuses was like Vernors fizz, absolutely delightful.
So you see, I shouldn't Lurk because then I join and write you all a frickin novel by way of introduction. I apologize and accept all rocks thrown at me. I am overjoyed to be partaking in this ancient rite, this complicated standard-transmission manual-choke method of sampling the great tobaccos of the world. Finicky, sometimes bitey, but sublime when done right. Think I'll shelve the vanilla custard and cellar the Blood Red Moon until I get my cadence calmed down enough to treat an aro right, and meanwhile enjoy the Balkans and the OGS (and see if I can't scare up a can of PA or CH or Granger for my morning bowl because burley is the breakfast of champions). Pleased to meet all of you!
My name's James Sobieski, but if you try to say that out loud the two S's run together and you either end up with Jamesssssobieski or have to pause almost like a hiccup: James...*....Sobieski. Neither of which works well over a PA so I'm using my stage name, Jim Sobie. Why not.
For the past 43 years I've always lived somewhere in the Metro Detroit area (Warren, originally) but for the past 15 I've lived in Allen Park. Where's that? Well if you ever fly into Detroit Metro and catch a cab downtown you'll pass a large and fairly ridiculous giant Uniroyal Tire: 80 feet in diameter, 12 tons, originally a Ferris Wheel at the 1964 New York World's Fair. Afterwards nobody knew what to do with it, so we Detroiters did what we always do with unwanted tires: we chucked it out a window along I-94 until it rolled to a stop by the side of the road. It just so happens that slice of I-94 lies within Allen Park. There. That's a thing you know now.
Enough prattle. Tobacco. I've smoked cigarettes since I was 14 or so and loved every damn butt I ever smoked. When my daughter was born 12 years ago I resolved to quit, and quit with nasal snuff. I dove into the world of snuff (as it has its own forums, lingo, acronyms and argot), found my tastes ran to the Scotch snuffs of the blow-your-head-off variety, less so the sweet or candylike or flowery nose-confections of Poeschl or Fribourg & Treyer. The PACT Act dropped the curtain on that one, whoops.
I've had and enjoyed snus, chew, cigars, basically everything except hookah (because my wife draws the line at a pipe that stands 3 feet tall and gurgles), but cigarettes were always there, the fallback as it were. Vaping? Oh lord. I vaped before it was cool. I vaped the little cartridges, the big tank systems, the pods, the mods, the gods. In the end vaping frustrates me because I can do it anywhere, and because I CAN...I DO, and HAVE. Restaurants, Theatres, the bathroom, funeral parlors, and once during sex (just to see if I could get away with it). Also every vape LEAKS, and next thing you know you have sticky fingers and your watch pocket is gooped up and you have a cloud of yellowjackets following you around, yeah it's a bad deal.
Finally on the sixth paragraph, pipes. My father split 25 years ago and left behind most of his crap, amongst which was an old Hudson's box (anybody remember Hudson's?) filled with pipes gathered over his eclectic smoking career as a pipeman in the 1960s, before he hung it up. A lot of weirdo pipes, most of which I will probably tote up to Paul's in Flint one day to barter away, but amongst them two very serviceable Pibe-Dans, a Kriswill bent and a big Malaga poker from the old Malaga shop in Royal Oak, MI (now long defunct). I quit vaping for the last time with a pack of the ever-present Newports, then scowled, dragged out this Hudson's box, picked out 4 of the most reasonable briars and snapped up a packet of Prince Albert, then vowed afterwards to diversify.
I lurked here for quite a while, but then had to bring myself to a decision before I fell into Analysis Paralysis. I realized that, as Muttnchop has said, if there are 4 types of pipe smoker, I'm definitely the tobacco connoisseur. While I respect big and pretty pipes, a cob is just as good a smoke as any and I'm kind of a steak-and-potatoes guy. I ordered two MM Mark Twains and two Country Gentlemans, and then followed that up with:
1. Orlik Golden Sliced
2. My Mixture 965
3. Cult Blood Red Moon
4. Plum Pudding
5. 1-Q
6. Arango Balkan Supreme
7. Sutliff Vanilla Custard
Retired to the porch over the past few weeks to sample, to puff, and yes to gulp (reformed cigarette smoker, yes I know inhaling is Not the Way but a few good lungers of burley with your morning coffee will get you firing on all cylinders). I'm realizing I'm not the aromatic type. 1-Q is okay when sipped, vanilla custard is...well it smells nice but my coarse palate simply can't parse the joy. But oh that Balkan, oh that 965...tonight was my first flake of OGS and the sprizzle of perique in my sinuses was like Vernors fizz, absolutely delightful.
So you see, I shouldn't Lurk because then I join and write you all a frickin novel by way of introduction. I apologize and accept all rocks thrown at me. I am overjoyed to be partaking in this ancient rite, this complicated standard-transmission manual-choke method of sampling the great tobaccos of the world. Finicky, sometimes bitey, but sublime when done right. Think I'll shelve the vanilla custard and cellar the Blood Red Moon until I get my cadence calmed down enough to treat an aro right, and meanwhile enjoy the Balkans and the OGS (and see if I can't scare up a can of PA or CH or Granger for my morning bowl because burley is the breakfast of champions). Pleased to meet all of you!
