Today is the big 'un if yer Irish, Irish once a year, just generally wanna be Irish, or are simply a lush. I'm not any one of those things -- but I will watch the Quiet Man as I usually do. See, I'm a traditionalist, and John Wayne engaging in once a year pitch-fork water bucket pub-stop fisticuffs with Victor McLaglen is a tradition on this the O'Day of days. (Although we all know Barry Fitzgerald stole and steals the show, echoing thru all space & time.)
My yearly take-aways from the flick? I assume it'll be my usual array: The Quiet Man is the longest premium tobacco ad ever filmed. Also, Mary Kate had to have made the rest of poor Sean Thornton's life a living hell of high-level tsuris one red-headed nag-fest after another of varying violences. Every year tho, I see the movie differently. Every year, many a lens can be used to filter its technicolor thru. How interesting. My take-away (back to 'baccy) within the cigar-centric theme of this blog? Glad ya asked, gentlepersons.
Lettuce (cabbage?) jump right in thusly --
It's hard to tell when exactly the Dbl. Claro/Candela wrapper became the green beer of the cigar world, but I'm sure it happened quite early on as it is an obviously & unfortunate entirely perfect fit -- but the aforementioned traditionalist in me wants it known that Candela is (okay maybe more was) a very serious thing. A very serious thing full-on deserving of yer consumer considerations in the remaining Gregorian 364 -- one not just to be relegated to schtick and kitsch and the blarney of all that.
The Candela wrapper, in fact, owned the cigar landscape of the mid 1950s to the '70s in the US. So much so, that Candela offerings were dubbed with the nom de tobacco "American Market Selection." If that black and white flick yer watching includes a stogie -- chances are it's green as I am in the 3/3 of a nic bomb Skip Martin offering. This might be hard to fathom in our flavor-bomb era ushered in by improper tastings and taste (a tale for another time), but the Candela is quite flavorful in its albeit subtle nuances. Please don't make me discuss the retro-hale for another hour. No, I shan't share a link. Look it up. It exists. It shamefully even woefully exists.
I found myself pondering this just O'Yesterday, as my social media feeds became a dare I say kitcsh-fest of Pickle Juices, Filthy Hooligans, and my otherwise mainly sane brethren in ridiculous hats. I felt & feel rather peeved that a once American Icon was relegated to this. I mean schtick is wonderful, as I am made up of precisely 92% of the stuff, but as the green leaf slips further from the common humi, broski -- the schtick begins to teeter on schlock.
Now I am not saying current Dbl. Claros are all schlock, mind you. It's just that much of schlock is perception and well, them fucking ridiculous hats. It's a mainly slippery and fully Yiddish slope which Candela is well more than halfway down. Please then, to allow me to act as a set of tire chains and slow the roll with a good bit of traction, gentlepersons. How? By asking you to nurse your today's near certain hangover with a bit of the hair of the dog that done bit ya -- and pair that with another day of Candela.
I do believe you'll have a deeper appreciation of the leaf. You might not end up loving the green as much as Ms. Piggy and/or Donald Trump, but then again -- ya only might -- but then again & again those samples given are an awful lot of love. Maybe you'll just like it. Or Wonder Years "like it, like it." Appreciate it. Even if it's just 'nuff to next year do schtick not schlock... I'll be ever so happy to simply point and laugh at yer choice of head-wear alone, ya leprechaun-like maniacs, ya.
[Why yes, I did only mildly re-work this from last year. Good eye. thx.]
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