Swine Flu. Great, just f@#king great.

And then there’s Maude… wait, check that…

95 degrees here in North Jersey this weekend as I sweltered like a roast Polack at my son’s travel baseball game. New Jersey is like an alien world – 41 and sleet last week and yesterday I slathered on the Coppertone like the fair skinned doofus I am. Both Saturday and Sunday nights were cool and perhaps the nicest evenings I remember in the past year. And of course that gave me the perfect opportunity to crank up some wonderful seegars for the smoking. Saturday I cut the lawn for the first time in the season and puffed a terrific Camacho El Legend Ario – a dark and luscious, full flavored maduro. After dinner I set a lawn chair out front, got down with a good book, and enjoyed the hell out of a Montecristo Classic Churchill. That is one big-ass flavorful smoke. Sunday before the ball game I was loving my Cuigine natural robust from Arganese and at night it was the new Defiance by Xicar and that is one friggin awesome smoke – full flavored and perfectly rolled.

The NFL Draft was this past weekend and the New York Jets really did well by picking Mark “Dirty” Sanchez, who will no doubt become a nice NFL quarterback. My Giants picked up a wide receiver  to replace Plaxico leg shootin’ dumbass Buress, but you simply can’t replace a guy with his amazing talent. Sure he’s a mindless asshole, but I keep thinking about that catch in the corner of the endzone against New England and it hurts, I tell ya people, it hurts.

General Motors just fired over 20,000 workers and killed the Pontiac Brand. Good luck Obamarama, you crazy bastid.

Susan Boyle, the YouTube phenom who shocked everyone with her stunning performance on Britain’s Got Talent, announced today that she is indeed a man, baby. Susan, formerly known as Rocko Boyle, a former cock fighting manager from Brighton, was embarrassed by his girly voice so he started wearing wigs and ladies clothing to make up for the lack of masculinity. Now as a guy, he’s not that horrible, but as a women, she’s outright hideous. A good point many bring up is that if she were a beautiful woman, the judges and audience wouldn’t have made that big a deal about her. She would have been just another hot singer. But Susan is a ruddy faced old bat and for some reason people are seemingly stunned that ruddy faced old bats can sing well. We are one hell of a judgmental, p.o.s. bunch, aren’t we?

Jay Leno cancelled a taping of the tonight Show last week – have you seen this, have you heard about this, have you read about this? Apparently, Jay was soooo sick…

“How Sick was he?”

Jay was so sick that checked himself into the hospital early that morning, but his chin stayed on to record the show.

NHL playoffs…where anything can freakin’ happen… Yeah Baby.

If anyone is watching Donald Trump’s celebrity Apprentice, Melisa Rivers is an infantile horse faced jackass. The egos on that show are gargantuan and everyone of them should be forced to live in a measly 3,500 foot home and eat Hamburger Helper. It’s actually been pretty good tv, but it sure makes you hate the disgustingly privileged.

Wow, lot’s happening. Goodnight, Bea.

 Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

It’s lawn maintenance time here in the north east and I hit the local Home Depot ready to make my lawn green with envy.  I pick up a bag of Scotts crab grass killing fertilizer and WHAT THE FUG?!… It was almost SIXTY BUCKS! I ask the dude in the department, “Wasn’t this stuff like $36 last year?!” He said Yep. So I said, I said, “Yeah, Okay, then WHAT THE HELL?”

“The price of oil. It takes a lot of oil to make this stuff.”

Geezuz H. Christmas. Why the hell is the price of oil the blame for all of this high priced insanity? Damn, sixty freakin bucks for a bag of orange pellets. I prayed that one bag was enough to do my lawn. Then I remember I’ve gotta get a spreader. I pick up a dinky little plastic bucket with a handle and faux plastic wheels and it’s thirty bucks! I expected to leave with a bill of around sixty dollars and I dropped a hundred bucks. Bend over and grab ankles, please come again.

Any of you do a little food shopping lately? Every god damned time I go to the A&P, I go in expecting to spend thirty dollars on a few necessities, and when the register chicks says, “That’ll be eighty-three dollars, please,” I soil myself . Last week over the intercom you heard “Clean up at register six” and my kids wanted to bury their heads in the proverbial sand.

I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t stand this crap, anymore. And you know what? I think it might just get a whole hell of a lot worse.

Let me ask you – how long before a jar of jam is a hundred dollars and we’re all eating Soilent Green? Let’s forget the fact that I live in New Jersey and the taxes on my is twenty-five hundred square foot home is $11,000 a year. Okay, let’s not forget that fact. It is truly brutally expensive to live in my state and it sucks a whole lot. But the wife and I are not in a position to get up and leave at this point in our lives so we’ve gotta suck it up and make it work. Plus, in my line of work, being a stone’s throw from the Big Apple is a good thing for me… but have you seen the price of apples, lately?

Do the food manufacturer’s think we’re completely stupid? You see the size of a box of breakfast cereal, these days? They are slim and almost half the size of what they were in the past, yet go for five or six bucks. This is definitely the new trickery they have thrusted upon us. A can of tuna is infinitely smaller than it used to be, frozen dinners that were twelve ounces are now nine ounces, and big bags of chips are a hell of a lot more air than chips.

I’ve made it clear that I’m not a fan of the Walmart shopping experience, but going cheap may be the only way to go. I certainly could do without the 170 year old door greeter whose Depends are filled to the brim with a yesterday’s meatloaf and green beans, but I thnk I can get past the smell if I can save some serious moolah. But I WILL NOT buy my clothes there. Okay, maybe my underwear, but that’s it.

Yeah, our cigars went up in price, but how long before a pack of cigarettes is ten bucks? Of course if people stop smoking them the government will have to find the billions from tax revenue, elsewhere. They’ll tax other goods and services and it will be impossible to live in America. We’ll become a two class system as there will be no more middle, only the filthy rich and the filthy not so even remotely rich. We’ll have the same inflation and brutal tax rates of Canada and England, but they get free health insurance while ours goes higher and higher.

This new president of ours has his hands fuller than the Walmart greeter’s diaper. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – who the hell would want that job? (I’m referring to the president, not the Walmart greeter, but I guess the same can be said.) Only a massively inflated, Hindenburg sized ego could possibly think they could handle the friggin mess we’re in.

Okay, what did I accomplish here? Absolutely nothing except get you guys more pissed off than you already are. But we’ve gotta get pissed. We elect these lying, cheating, scumbag officials into office and these bastards need to be held accountable. These bank presidents and mortgage CEO’s need to be held accountable. Things have been mismanaged WAY too long and now we’re all taking it in the bunghole with a red hot poker from Satan himself!

I’m tired of this shit. No more. You hear me? No more! Stand up, be heard and fight to the death.

But you know what though? My lawn does look pretty good.

Have a swell week and talk amongst yer selves,

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

You ugly little son of a bitch. Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking to you, ya tiny turd… you, you friggin’ fidget on wheels. You think you’re so damned smart, don’t you?

I drove past a Smart Car on the weekend and couldn’t believe this ballsy little half pint was zipping along Route 80 with the big boys of the interstate. In fact, I threw a paper clip at it, trying to knock it over, but the little bastid just laughed and kept on going. Then I tossed a handful of loose change and half a half eaten sandwich at it, but it held it’s ground. I then opened my door and farted and as you can imagine, it did give the driver a good scare.

The Smart Car is what gives the Al Gore’s of the world a perpetual woody. It is the green geekazoid’s chariot of triumph. At 8 feet long, five feet wide and five feet high, this hideous looking glorified golf cart is all the rage for the crowd that harasses whaling vessels while sucking down tofu smoothies during lunch break. At 1,500 pounds it gets around 70 miles to a gallon and is all the rage in Europe. But of course those tight little cobblestone streets are made for such a ride, not the big bad American super highways.

The guy who invented Swatch Watches was bored one day and came up with the idea for this diminutive doo-hickey. Sure, it’s fuel efficient and good for the ozone, but it’s without question, one big rolling can of chick repellent. I love old muscle cars like Corvettes, Mustangs, Camaros, Firebirds, Challengers, Chargers, Dusters, etc. I love the look, the feel, and the power. And chicks dig a dude in a 454, plain and simple. They don’t dig 50 horsepower. The ladies go gaga over eight-cylinder super-charged beasts. They don’t get all hot and bothered by three-cylinder wimps. I sincerely ask you – how the hell are you gonna get laid in that toaster with wheels? First off, no self-respecting hottie would be caught dead dating a dud in that oversized Partridge Family lunchbox. And secondly, there just ain’t enough room to bump and grind by the dashboard light. I want a lady who’s turned on by muscle and might, not fiscal and environmental responsibility. Why not just put a bumper sticker on the back that says, “I have a small dick, too.”

Save the Earth? How about saving your self worth? Any real red-blooded American male is not going to be seen behind the wheel of one of those teenie-weenie, Euro machine-ees. And guess what? These little punk-ass vehicles ain’t cheap, either. There’s three models and the base starts at around $12,000 with the high-end model topping out at around seventeen grand! Are these people kidding? You could probably juice up a riding lawn mower and save yourself fifteen thousand. At least attach a couple of rotating blades under the damned thing so you can earn a few extra bucks cutting lawns in your neighborhood. Jezuz H Christmas, man.

Now, supposedly the crash ratings are pretty good on these uglified autos, but how’d you like to drive between a couple of Mac Trucks in that rolling bucket of doom? Something tells me nailing a squirrel at 30 miles an hour would F that mini gas can up something awful. I wonder in the winter if you can pop the wheels off and snap sled runners on.

I simply cannot endorse these ass-wipe automobiles. I’m a man who loves ice hockey, beer can chicken, full-bodied cigars, full-bodied females, and I believe you can put bacon on anything and it will taste better. Why just a few months back I tore a god damned beaver damn apart with my bare hands, for crissakes. There is no way in hell I will compromise my role as a manly creature by getting behind the wheel of one of those gaudy little go-carts. NFW. No way, no how, uh-huh. It just ain’t smart.

Have a Swell Week,

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

So, with a full week on my hands between postings, a lot of thoughts and imagery rattles through my cerebellum on a continual basis. And the main quest is to solve the quandary of entertaining you fine readers of this now weekly offering. So, here’s some of the G.I.G.O. that I have produced for your amusement and pleasure…

Some British broad put together a study on various health related info for women, and get this – she claims that more than 200 orgasms a year can reduce your physiological age by six years. I figure, due to the accessibility of internet porn sites, by all accounts, I should look like I’m three.

A mom in Kansas City had a great idea for her 14 year-old kid’s birthday party. Clowns? Balloons? Chuckee Cheese? Hell no… mom held a vodka chugging party. Yeah, 43-year-old Karen Christine Downs and 25-year-old Kelsee Guest face felony child-endangerment charges as they offered up $10 to the kiddies to see who could chug shots of the Russian firewater the fastest. The two kooky mixed-up moms told kids at the party NOT to tell their parents, and can you believe word actually got out? Unbelievable how kids just can’t keep a secret these days. But I have to ask…just how badly would you beat the living snot outta those two bitches if your kids were at that party? Whiffles wrapped in duct tape. That’s all I have to say about that. Okay, graphite composite Easton bats might be more fitting.

You know, I don’t know what the hell is with Jenny McCarthy. She sends me an autographed photo of herself with a note, telling me how hot she is for me and that Polish cigar bloggers get her incredibly randy. I texted her several times, telling her to cut it out, I mean, come on, I’m married and I told her that men married for 21 years get all the sex they can handle from their wives. This broad just doesn’t get it. Some people are crazy.

SCHIP. Go ahead, say it. Say the dirty, stinking, evil, whorey word. Say it with all the animosity you can muster, my cigar smoking brethren. Ask Pelosi and the Hildebeast just how many kids abuse premium cigars. Ask them why the tobacco industry has been forced to grab its ankles and scream out, “Thank you Sir, may I have another?” Ask them why they don’t care that many thousands will lose their jobs. Ask them that when they finally eradicate smoking in their fascist Neo-Nazi wave of terror, how will they replace the billions and billions of dollars in tax revenues the tobacco companies bring to America? Go ahead, ask ‘em, I dare ya. I double dare ya.

BTW… ever actually swing a gleaming yellow Whiffle ensconced in sticky silver wrapping paper? It’s a whole lot more fun than ya might think. Just sayin’.

Now just who the hell are They? You know, the “They” in “They oughtta do something about the homeless” or “They gotta stop frying those burgers my kids scarf down”, or “They really should do something about people who abuse the Clapper.” Not for nothin’, but I personally think “They” suck a whole lot. Just my two cents.

Playboy cover model Brande Roderick and professional golfer Natalie Gulbis are both contestants on the current Celebrity Apprentice television show. Now I swear to God, they don’t mean a thing to me and I purely watch to see how the Donald’s shag weave looks each week.

I was hanging around between games of my son’s hockey tournament this weekend, and with several hours to kill, I was in need of a smoke and had no stogies with me. The only store around was a Walgreens where I knew I would only find a cavalcade of dog excrement. Much to my surprise, for $2.29 I buy a Honduran made maduro figurado called Blender’s Gold and the goddamned thing wasn’t bad at all. It had a nice wrapper leaf, burned great, had a solid white ash, and tasted pretty decent. Forget surprised, I was shocked. From what I gather, it’s some private label made for Walgreens. Guys, if I took the label off and gave it to you to try, you’d be just as shocked as I was.

And finally, this just in… Al Gore’s head is still made of corrugated board, Japanese scientists say. And as you can imagine, they took lots of pictures.

Have a swell rest of the week, my peeps,
Tommy Z.
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman