Rob_in_MO's recent post ("I'm ashamed to admit..."), along with a discussion of burley blends that took what seemed forever to mention Prince Albert, got me to thinking. While an over-the-counter blend occasionally appears on someone’s top-five list (mine, for one), these blends, if not maligned, are rarely celebrated by most. I'm ashamed to admit is a shame indeed given that these blends were probably staples for many of us. With that in mind:
Imagine if you will, you're going on a long trip on short notice. You've remembered to pack EVERYTHING: two black shirts, two pair of black pants, $300.00 personal burial money... Hold on, let me start again. All of this has something to do with a girl named Marla. Marla packed your bags and remembered to pack everything (including your three favorite pipes) - everything, that is, except tins of your favorite tobacco blends. You've arrived at your destination - a remote location with a general store, a post office, a bank, one horse, a diner, two bars, and a Walgreen's - only to discover the oversight. That's right, you've just entered... No matter, the point is that you're not in Kansas, Dorothy. [Insert subliminal image of a wide-eyed Rod Serling in pigtails here.] What to do? Do you place an emergency call to your favorite retailer and willingly pay the $30-40 per tin shipping charge for overnight delivery of your current go-to blends? Do you cancel your stay, return home, fire Marla, repack and reschedule your trip? Hold on, there's a Walgreen's.
If you wake up at a different time in another place... you'll probably find a Walgreen's. This, however, is a somewhat unique Walgreen's; this is the Walgreen's time forgot. Indeed, this Walgreen's still has an aisle fully stocked and dedicated exclusively to tobacco products, including (and especially) pipe tobacco. No, this isn't the McClelland microcosm, Planet Pease, or the Samual Gawith stellar-sphere. There's no Penzance here, there is no Escudo, and there are no dusty tins of Balkan Sobranie, “2 for 50 cents.” (You're in podunk, not in heaven.) What is available, however, is a line of the most common OTC blends dating back at least twenty years to the present.
There's a sign (I know, Serling would have said “signpost,” but it's my “Twilight Zone Meets the Fight Club” narrative, so it's “sign”) over the shelves that reads:
“Buy any combination of five different blends for half off total purchase price AND drink for free during happy hour at either of the two bars in this one-Walgreen's town.” [Insert subliminal image of the horse here.]
And at that moment, you realize that you're not the white dot on your pipe stem, you're not the one-of-a-kind exotic horn tamper you keep in the pocket of your khakis, and you're not the @#%&@ contents of your designer Coach leather tobacco pouch. You're the all-singing, all-dancing... Never mind, that's not the point. You've had an epiphany, no need to belabor the moment. So, given that you've got a little time to kill (the two bars won't open for an hour) and no imaginary friend to argue with, you decide to look over everything on the shelves - end-to-end, top-to-bottom - rating the offerings from best to worst to put together "the perfect five." So, what will you select?
(Yes, I know, I could have just asked anyone interested to rate their five all-time favorite over-the-counter blends, but what's the fun in that? By the way, this may turn out to be more challenging than it appears at first glance. Have fun and feel free to unleash all of your pent-up tobaccoreviews.com prose in defense of your selection.)
Imagine if you will, you're going on a long trip on short notice. You've remembered to pack EVERYTHING: two black shirts, two pair of black pants, $300.00 personal burial money... Hold on, let me start again. All of this has something to do with a girl named Marla. Marla packed your bags and remembered to pack everything (including your three favorite pipes) - everything, that is, except tins of your favorite tobacco blends. You've arrived at your destination - a remote location with a general store, a post office, a bank, one horse, a diner, two bars, and a Walgreen's - only to discover the oversight. That's right, you've just entered... No matter, the point is that you're not in Kansas, Dorothy. [Insert subliminal image of a wide-eyed Rod Serling in pigtails here.] What to do? Do you place an emergency call to your favorite retailer and willingly pay the $30-40 per tin shipping charge for overnight delivery of your current go-to blends? Do you cancel your stay, return home, fire Marla, repack and reschedule your trip? Hold on, there's a Walgreen's.
If you wake up at a different time in another place... you'll probably find a Walgreen's. This, however, is a somewhat unique Walgreen's; this is the Walgreen's time forgot. Indeed, this Walgreen's still has an aisle fully stocked and dedicated exclusively to tobacco products, including (and especially) pipe tobacco. No, this isn't the McClelland microcosm, Planet Pease, or the Samual Gawith stellar-sphere. There's no Penzance here, there is no Escudo, and there are no dusty tins of Balkan Sobranie, “2 for 50 cents.” (You're in podunk, not in heaven.) What is available, however, is a line of the most common OTC blends dating back at least twenty years to the present.
There's a sign (I know, Serling would have said “signpost,” but it's my “Twilight Zone Meets the Fight Club” narrative, so it's “sign”) over the shelves that reads:
“Buy any combination of five different blends for half off total purchase price AND drink for free during happy hour at either of the two bars in this one-Walgreen's town.” [Insert subliminal image of the horse here.]
And at that moment, you realize that you're not the white dot on your pipe stem, you're not the one-of-a-kind exotic horn tamper you keep in the pocket of your khakis, and you're not the @#%&@ contents of your designer Coach leather tobacco pouch. You're the all-singing, all-dancing... Never mind, that's not the point. You've had an epiphany, no need to belabor the moment. So, given that you've got a little time to kill (the two bars won't open for an hour) and no imaginary friend to argue with, you decide to look over everything on the shelves - end-to-end, top-to-bottom - rating the offerings from best to worst to put together "the perfect five." So, what will you select?
(Yes, I know, I could have just asked anyone interested to rate their five all-time favorite over-the-counter blends, but what's the fun in that? By the way, this may turn out to be more challenging than it appears at first glance. Have fun and feel free to unleash all of your pent-up tobaccoreviews.com prose in defense of your selection.)