Smoking pounds of Lakeland in a pipe that won't get thrown into the fireplace but get put up on ebay one day is my pet peeve. Please burn your lakeland pipes before they leave your hands, thank you kindly.
I write this as I presently wrestle with a demonic presence that has an identical character to Dove hand soap. To court controversy, I will unapologetically say it: Lakeland can't possibly be what God intended, and every time we ruin good tobacco with perfumes we stray further from divinity...
Of all the universes I get thrown into... I could have existed in the Pipe Tobacco dimension where the whole world lives like tobacco connoisseur hobbits, with prized cellars of carefully aged primo leaf of myriads of varietals and blends and processes... cellars started by fathers passed down to sons, none of it befouled by laundry detergent...
Yet here I am, planet Earth.