January 21, 2006
Un-coordinator
Fat ugly slob-cum-well-dressed, xtreeme braggart claims are outspoken, but yet unrealized.
For where, it seems, pudgy fingers fore-telling clumsiness begin, bossy, SUB-continent, uncertificated, blue-collar rhetoric, spelled:
T-E-C-H-N-I-C-A-L
I-N-C-O-M-P-E-T-E-N-C-E
finally, after all the pseudo-intellectual, undergraduate-poseur filth that flows from the source, ends. It is silenced by the truth of a laughably purple-faced clockwise wrench twist meant to crack the NORMAL RH-threaded B-nut, if you can even imagine it; silenced by the thunderous yet thankfully not disastrous effect of an experimentally dislodged safety pin. And the subcontinent's fatted-up royal son's very degreededness is lifted up for public perusal on an overloaded, pedestal with its left hand in the air, but standing on one foot, t'other hand grasping at the Ayurvedic ankle region of a right-upturned Ayurvedic region of the foot - a fine balance, indeed.
Yet hark! We approach now, unapproachables, and wander, tentatively, through the undiscovered, touching this and that, but what, really, daintily, shyly, braving our way finally into the realm of the, as yet untouched, where machines, systems, sub-systems, assemblies, and sub-assemblies actually do exist Dorothy. Here, we encounter inevitably those that simply KNOW more technical things than we, having not lied their way in, and are 300 million times less bloody arrogant than we and less good at one thing only - constant boss-arse caressing.
There is a prison in Arkansasas in which inmates are stripped of their privilege of privacy. The warden's men see all, unskewed and unfiltered information about the daily lives and habits is given them through glass walled cells. When the inmates take a shit, the warden's men see. When the inmates take a piss the warden's men see. When the inmates sleep and when they wake the warden's men see. When the inmates eat soap and feighn stomach trouble for a free trip to the infirmary, the warden's men see. The inmates can't get away with a lie. The truth of their very being is revealed through transparent plexi.
Oh, would that tiny cameras be installed in the 30-something orfices miscelaneous, in every potentially crooked nook and cranny to catch the lying, fat, sub-continent, slob/cowboy in his lie, to catch the worker/royalty-cum-manager-cum-coordinator-cum-man-about-the-campus in his man-fridaying. "the ONE" for him and "the HIM" for ONE, as it were. The sub-contitnent cowboy, in the midst of his own, as it were. The sub-contitnent cowboy in the realm of the as yet untouched. Would that the tiny cameras be installed to capture the numerous moments of incompetence forever, the shirkers in their shirk o' work, to catch the nose picker in his pick; the arse-scratcher in his scratch. Etc.
Would that all the tiny mics shoved strategically into fabrics of orfice curtains and blinds miscelaneous, under desks and unswept for, pick up all any latent cowardice-speak. Things too terrifying to speak out to the face of subject someone, for fear of instant ass-kickerage reprisal and the possible instant deaths of junior politicians. Transparancy we seek. Transparency we get. Transparancy. There's a certain powerfully focussing and calming effect in knowing what is the exact content, context and reaction to the content of the hilariously ridicoulous yet damaging fib the other guy just told to the boss about ya, just to make his boots look more shiny, isn't it.
What's that you say? They've been already installed, my friend and you de only suckah that don't realize the extent of the 7.1 Dolby surround, home theater effect, prying eye and ear combo that already exists? Pass it off, toss it off to paranoia, to fancy dreams of a momentous longing for a different sort o' madness, less predatory, any sort thereof, actually, would do, in a pinch.
And yet, mic or no, tiny cam or no, Fat Albert's fattiness speaks for itself. And Fat Albert's pudgy sub-contient poseur-clumsiness & subsequent incompetent fingering, touching of things yet untouched, that is, actual technical things, speaks/reveals volumes of the sort of thick, subcontinent broodingly-hungering-for-post-colonial-legitimacy, fog, that this fatty-man operates within. A very pushy, up-the-bosses arse, sub-continent cowbody, that's what, brinking everybody with his overbearing manageer-play, as we might be tempted to describe his dyed-in-the-wool sub-continent, wolfish-yet-sheepish-yet-ferret(ish) methods if we didn't know better how to fetter the typecast.
And on and on it goes. Where it stops, it blows up in your face so just don't let it stop. OK?
Happy happy joy joy
And BY SO THIS, "Rhohintin" Maniac LIVES ON, in this particular not so veiled sentiment.
For where, it seems, pudgy fingers fore-telling clumsiness begin, bossy, SUB-continent, uncertificated, blue-collar rhetoric, spelled:
T-E-C-H-N-I-C-A-L
I-N-C-O-M-P-E-T-E-N-C-E
finally, after all the pseudo-intellectual, undergraduate-poseur filth that flows from the source, ends. It is silenced by the truth of a laughably purple-faced clockwise wrench twist meant to crack the NORMAL RH-threaded B-nut, if you can even imagine it; silenced by the thunderous yet thankfully not disastrous effect of an experimentally dislodged safety pin. And the subcontinent's fatted-up royal son's very degreededness is lifted up for public perusal on an overloaded, pedestal with its left hand in the air, but standing on one foot, t'other hand grasping at the Ayurvedic ankle region of a right-upturned Ayurvedic region of the foot - a fine balance, indeed.
Yet hark! We approach now, unapproachables, and wander, tentatively, through the undiscovered, touching this and that, but what, really, daintily, shyly, braving our way finally into the realm of the, as yet untouched, where machines, systems, sub-systems, assemblies, and sub-assemblies actually do exist Dorothy. Here, we encounter inevitably those that simply KNOW more technical things than we, having not lied their way in, and are 300 million times less bloody arrogant than we and less good at one thing only - constant boss-arse caressing.
There is a prison in Arkansasas in which inmates are stripped of their privilege of privacy. The warden's men see all, unskewed and unfiltered information about the daily lives and habits is given them through glass walled cells. When the inmates take a shit, the warden's men see. When the inmates take a piss the warden's men see. When the inmates sleep and when they wake the warden's men see. When the inmates eat soap and feighn stomach trouble for a free trip to the infirmary, the warden's men see. The inmates can't get away with a lie. The truth of their very being is revealed through transparent plexi.
Oh, would that tiny cameras be installed in the 30-something orfices miscelaneous, in every potentially crooked nook and cranny to catch the lying, fat, sub-continent, slob/cowboy in his lie, to catch the worker/royalty-cum-manager-cum-coordinator-cum-man-about-the-campus in his man-fridaying. "the ONE" for him and "the HIM" for ONE, as it were. The sub-contitnent cowboy, in the midst of his own, as it were. The sub-contitnent cowboy in the realm of the as yet untouched. Would that the tiny cameras be installed to capture the numerous moments of incompetence forever, the shirkers in their shirk o' work, to catch the nose picker in his pick; the arse-scratcher in his scratch. Etc.
Would that all the tiny mics shoved strategically into fabrics of orfice curtains and blinds miscelaneous, under desks and unswept for, pick up all any latent cowardice-speak. Things too terrifying to speak out to the face of subject someone, for fear of instant ass-kickerage reprisal and the possible instant deaths of junior politicians. Transparancy we seek. Transparency we get. Transparancy. There's a certain powerfully focussing and calming effect in knowing what is the exact content, context and reaction to the content of the hilariously ridicoulous yet damaging fib the other guy just told to the boss about ya, just to make his boots look more shiny, isn't it.
What's that you say? They've been already installed, my friend and you de only suckah that don't realize the extent of the 7.1 Dolby surround, home theater effect, prying eye and ear combo that already exists? Pass it off, toss it off to paranoia, to fancy dreams of a momentous longing for a different sort o' madness, less predatory, any sort thereof, actually, would do, in a pinch.
And yet, mic or no, tiny cam or no, Fat Albert's fattiness speaks for itself. And Fat Albert's pudgy sub-contient poseur-clumsiness & subsequent incompetent fingering, touching of things yet untouched, that is, actual technical things, speaks/reveals volumes of the sort of thick, subcontinent broodingly-hungering-for-post-colonial-legitimacy, fog, that this fatty-man operates within. A very pushy, up-the-bosses arse, sub-continent cowbody, that's what, brinking everybody with his overbearing manageer-play, as we might be tempted to describe his dyed-in-the-wool sub-continent, wolfish-yet-sheepish-yet-ferret(ish) methods if we didn't know better how to fetter the typecast.
And on and on it goes. Where it stops, it blows up in your face so just don't let it stop. OK?
Happy happy joy joy
And BY SO THIS, "Rhohintin" Maniac LIVES ON, in this particular not so veiled sentiment.
January 18, 2006
T'er Ba Qui
Recently I sampled a new cigar in stock at the local smoker centre outlet - a Don Thomas Cetros.
I feel the Don Thomas Cetros is an overall excellent value for the smoke. The one I bought was longer than a robusto size, like a corona size, but a bit longer (not up to speed on all the different size-groupings yet). I was asked to give some feedback on this cigar by an extremely polite Philipino attendant who, when he spoke, belied a solid, bachelors-level University education, if not more than. He is very knowledgeable about his product and has a very keen sense of customer service. He said the Cetros wasn't moving well and wanted customer feed back on the Cetros to consider how to market it differntly in UAE. So I agreed and what follows is pretty much a word for word of what I wrote for the smoker's centre on the cetros.
I took the Don Thomas Cetros with me to work to smoke there – I’ve recently taken up residence in the desiganated smoking office, which is well and good because I now I have time during the day, while I carry out my desk duties, to try out a lot of new brands of cigars in a relatively consistant environment. I used a round hole cutter to cut the end of the Don Thomas Cetros. The cap did not tear or crack and I was able to make a cleancut, consistantly round hole. The cigar was evenly packed and had a medium to light brown wrapper. The wrapper was not completely dry but also not quite as moist nor having the peculiar to cigar-wrapper feeling of oily smoothness as the Quorum Robustos from Nicaragua that I smoke regularly and I’ve taken a great deal of liking to lately, given their great, rich flavour with medium mild taste for a very nice price – 6dhs. Of the quorum good things have already been well written:
So now you see that I have set my standard against which the Cetros was to be compared, as the fine budget cigar hailing from Nicaragua. The Cetros took about 40 minutes to smoke. When I smoke at work, I tend to take a draw approximately every 30 seconds up to every 2 minutes. The Cetros stayed alight with no problem between draws, smoldered evenly, and its ash tapped off in uniform cylindrical chunks, leaving a flat circular glow on the end of the cigar, “just like any good cigar should” I could say. The room odour during my smoking of the Don Thomas Cetros was commented on by my colleagues as “…far better…” than the odour filling the room when I smoke one of my “fill-in” Villigar Extras, for example. I must add though that they also commented on the room odour left by the Quorum Robustos as: “…leaving a really nice scent”.
The acidity of the Don Thomas Cetros as the burn approched the drawing end was not as noticeable to me as in other cigars, such as, an uncharacteristically-tightly-packed Luis Martinez Londsdale, and a similarly, uncharacteristically, tightly packed Quorum Corona. They were very acidic even in the first few difficult draws. I have since then figured out a way to make a tightly packed cigar much more palatable. An easily fabricated special “cigar saver” tool – a strait piece of coat-hangar-sized wire, sharpened to penetrate and make a hole through the middle of the length of the cigar does the job well.
I don’t like to waste any cigars by having to throw them away just because the draw is too difficult. Lucky for me, the special tool allows me to enjoy to the fullest even poorly chosen, too-tightly packed cigars, now. The appropriately sized hole effectively counter acts the acidity effect and all but eliminates the difficulty of drawing heavily on a tightly packed cigar.Though it may not be the recommended, ideal way to smoke a cigar, I ridgedly refuse to do any less than get the full value of the cigar. Another probably less than ideal, non-recommended thing I tend to do, also to get the full value of the cigar, is to remove the label and proceed to smoke right down to an approximate 1.5 cm length, regardless of the the initial length, diameter, brand name, flavour, or richness of the particular cigar.
I did not have to use the special hole making tool on the Cetros. It was evenly packed. The flavour was walnutty, with fresh undertones of the way that my grandfather’s favorite cologne smelled. Don’t ask me the name of it, I don't recall. Suffice to say, the Cetros waft triggered a memory of a balanced, anticipatory, full-of-life til passing on, renaisance-like creativive masculinity.
The Cetros was of medium mildness and medium richness. I would describ it as a characteristically stout, reliable, everyday, sort of cigar that you can easily bring to work and smoke without cigarette smokers in the same room complaining. Out of the office, let the Davidoffs, the Cohibas, or even one of the very underrated and well-priced Quorum Robustos, waiting patiently, at 70 to 75% humidity, in the glass-topped humidor you were oogling the week before Christmas (nice present from the family), be reserved for cool, UAE winter evenings of 21 deg. C, accompanied by any of the quality, aged, sipping-type beverages that are available, at our fingertips (after a short drive to the neighboring emirate). I will conclude by saying that there is room in MY glass-topped Christmas present humidor for more than a few Don Thomas Cetros and of course any other new brands of well valued cigars as well, as they continue to find there way here.
Byromaniac,
fequenter of Smokers’Centre outlets in Dubai
I feel the Don Thomas Cetros is an overall excellent value for the smoke. The one I bought was longer than a robusto size, like a corona size, but a bit longer (not up to speed on all the different size-groupings yet). I was asked to give some feedback on this cigar by an extremely polite Philipino attendant who, when he spoke, belied a solid, bachelors-level University education, if not more than. He is very knowledgeable about his product and has a very keen sense of customer service. He said the Cetros wasn't moving well and wanted customer feed back on the Cetros to consider how to market it differntly in UAE. So I agreed and what follows is pretty much a word for word of what I wrote for the smoker's centre on the cetros.
I took the Don Thomas Cetros with me to work to smoke there – I’ve recently taken up residence in the desiganated smoking office, which is well and good because I now I have time during the day, while I carry out my desk duties, to try out a lot of new brands of cigars in a relatively consistant environment. I used a round hole cutter to cut the end of the Don Thomas Cetros. The cap did not tear or crack and I was able to make a cleancut, consistantly round hole. The cigar was evenly packed and had a medium to light brown wrapper. The wrapper was not completely dry but also not quite as moist nor having the peculiar to cigar-wrapper feeling of oily smoothness as the Quorum Robustos from Nicaragua that I smoke regularly and I’ve taken a great deal of liking to lately, given their great, rich flavour with medium mild taste for a very nice price – 6dhs. Of the quorum good things have already been well written:
The new Quorum goes where others have tried and failed. Quorum is that rare bird – a full size, fine smoking cigar in that very inexpensive. Even though it’s definitely a budget cigar, Quorum certainly doesn’t smoke like one. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear it would sell for a great deal more. But “Great Deal” is the operant term when it comes to Quorum. Here you get a smooth and flavorful smoke in a medium strength cigar. The Nicaraguan fillers and binders signal dependable quality all the way, and the Ecuador-Sumatra wrapper even adds a hint of exotic elegance to Quorum. (Mr. Bill's Pipe and Tabaco Company, Las Vegas, Nevada)
So now you see that I have set my standard against which the Cetros was to be compared, as the fine budget cigar hailing from Nicaragua. The Cetros took about 40 minutes to smoke. When I smoke at work, I tend to take a draw approximately every 30 seconds up to every 2 minutes. The Cetros stayed alight with no problem between draws, smoldered evenly, and its ash tapped off in uniform cylindrical chunks, leaving a flat circular glow on the end of the cigar, “just like any good cigar should” I could say. The room odour during my smoking of the Don Thomas Cetros was commented on by my colleagues as “…far better…” than the odour filling the room when I smoke one of my “fill-in” Villigar Extras, for example. I must add though that they also commented on the room odour left by the Quorum Robustos as: “…leaving a really nice scent”.
The acidity of the Don Thomas Cetros as the burn approched the drawing end was not as noticeable to me as in other cigars, such as, an uncharacteristically-tightly-packed Luis Martinez Londsdale, and a similarly, uncharacteristically, tightly packed Quorum Corona. They were very acidic even in the first few difficult draws. I have since then figured out a way to make a tightly packed cigar much more palatable. An easily fabricated special “cigar saver” tool – a strait piece of coat-hangar-sized wire, sharpened to penetrate and make a hole through the middle of the length of the cigar does the job well.
I don’t like to waste any cigars by having to throw them away just because the draw is too difficult. Lucky for me, the special tool allows me to enjoy to the fullest even poorly chosen, too-tightly packed cigars, now. The appropriately sized hole effectively counter acts the acidity effect and all but eliminates the difficulty of drawing heavily on a tightly packed cigar.Though it may not be the recommended, ideal way to smoke a cigar, I ridgedly refuse to do any less than get the full value of the cigar. Another probably less than ideal, non-recommended thing I tend to do, also to get the full value of the cigar, is to remove the label and proceed to smoke right down to an approximate 1.5 cm length, regardless of the the initial length, diameter, brand name, flavour, or richness of the particular cigar.
I did not have to use the special hole making tool on the Cetros. It was evenly packed. The flavour was walnutty, with fresh undertones of the way that my grandfather’s favorite cologne smelled. Don’t ask me the name of it, I don't recall. Suffice to say, the Cetros waft triggered a memory of a balanced, anticipatory, full-of-life til passing on, renaisance-like creativive masculinity.
The Cetros was of medium mildness and medium richness. I would describ it as a characteristically stout, reliable, everyday, sort of cigar that you can easily bring to work and smoke without cigarette smokers in the same room complaining. Out of the office, let the Davidoffs, the Cohibas, or even one of the very underrated and well-priced Quorum Robustos, waiting patiently, at 70 to 75% humidity, in the glass-topped humidor you were oogling the week before Christmas (nice present from the family), be reserved for cool, UAE winter evenings of 21 deg. C, accompanied by any of the quality, aged, sipping-type beverages that are available, at our fingertips (after a short drive to the neighboring emirate). I will conclude by saying that there is room in MY glass-topped Christmas present humidor for more than a few Don Thomas Cetros and of course any other new brands of well valued cigars as well, as they continue to find there way here.
Byromaniac,
fequenter of Smokers’Centre outlets in Dubai
