A Couple of Asian American Meltdowns

In a horrible economy where new cars aren’t selling at all, it’s un-fathomable that a leading automaker like Toyota could f@#k up so severely. To this date they have recalled 8 million cars with severe accelerator problems, a load of Prius green-mobiles with brake problems, Tacoma pick-ups, and now a potential recall of half a million Camry’s. Somebody break out the Saki cause there’s a meltdown going on in the land of the rising sun.

But hold on to your bandannas, Tojo, because today a little bombshell came down the Tokyo expressway amidst the already massive heap of collateral damage. In an article on today’s AOL’s Daily Finance page, the following has been reported…

Several media sources report that an internal Toyota document from July 2009 entitled, “Wins for Toyota Safety Group,” says the firm saved $100 million by convincing the NHTSA to limit an accelerator recall to 55,000 Lexus and Camry models. The Wall Street Journal reports that, “The Toyota document, by linking safety issues to corporate profits, could prompt difficult questions for company executives, including President Akio Toyoda, who is scheduled to testify Wednesday before the Oversight Panel.”

Now THIS is bad, bad, bad and could blow Toyota out of the water for good. Who the hell is going to put their trust in them when they cut corners in lieu of safety… AND, people have already died from it.

Again from the article…

The collateral damage from Toyota’s apparent repeated efforts to dodge recalls or delay them, jeopardizing customer safety, will hit the company’s dealers, who are already suffering from falling sales. Factory workers in the U.S. and Japan will also be affected. And the problems have already extended to Europe, where Toyota will close plants in the U.K. for two weeks.

My immediate thinking is, “Does this help our friends in Detroit?” I personally think it has to. Now I’m not rooting against Toyota by any means. They employ thousands of U.S. workers in their plants and dealerships, and think of all the American based suppliers that they use. Like I said, the Big 3 in Detroit know the feeling all too well. But I have to imagine that Toyota’s sales will see a monumental drop and if so, I can only hope that those who are looking elsewhere will help the peeps at Ford, GM, and Chrysler. I wonder how log before Toyota’s CEO falls on his sword.

And while we’re on the subject of f@#k-ups…

Tiger Woods, you lying, sack of shit. Your apology was calculated and crafted, and written by professional spin masters you paid dearly to save you beaver-toothed ass. And please tell me this… why are you apologizing to me? What the hell do I give a rat’s 5-iron about your pathetic ego trip and sexual escapades. Okay, so you’re getting it a lot more than me. You’re worth a hundred million bucks, bro, and you could get anyone you wanted (can’t figure out that fat, haggy-ass waitress, though. I mean you have a Swedish super model for a wife… God, men are such idiots.)

So whoop de doozer, Tiggy. I can’t believe that you are apologizing to me? Get a grip you egotistical dirtbag. Apologize to your wife, your family, and the people who rely on you financially. Now THOSE are the ones who really got shtooped. Those are the people taking it high and dry and you ought to think about making up to them. If you really feel bad and want to toss me a few bucks, okay, I’ll play your little game. But face it dude, right now you’re in the rough, with a terrible lie. (Wow, nice use of golf-punnage there Zmanster.) The world is watching to see how you play your next shot.

BTW… Smoked a couple of the new Dona Lydia this weekend and God Dayum is that one delicious cigar. Beautiful flavor profile and rolled impeccably. A definite must try for you stogiphiles. Also did a Siglo as well. Had it aging a few months and man does it kick some ass. Say… I bet if you looked on the JR Website you just might find some boxes of these puppies. Just sayin..

Til next week, Later to all,

Tommy Z

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Some of you out there have the distinct pleasure of being allowed to smoke cigars in your homes. I envy you. I talk to some who are surprised that my wife doesn’t allow it. Some act as if everyone smokes in their home… don’t they? NO they don’t. While my wife isn’t a smoke Nazi. she detests smoking and makes sure to tell me how bad I stink after I enjoy a cigar. Oh, I’ve snuck it a few times. When the weather is nice I’ll put a box fan in the window, seal the office door with tape, and puff a good cigar while I write. Afterwards, I’ll hose down the rug with Febreeze and wash my clothes, but like a bloodhound, she still smells it.

“Why does it smell like smoke? You had a cigar in the house! You were smoking, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU?!!!!!”

I’ve also tried smoking in front of the fireplace – my one friend says “It’s fool proof, she won’t smell a thing.” Well, I guess I’m a bigger fool than I thought because while it works decent, it’s not nearly enough to circumvent the smoke warden from hell. The problem is that in the home, the smoke goes into the vents and travels all throughout the house.

I absolutely love to smoke a cigar while I’m writing and what I wouldn’t give to have an office professionally sealed off with the best smoke eating device money can buy. I can’t explain it but it relaxes me so and puts me into some kind of meditative state. When I had my advertising business, I would open the windows after everyone left and light up. I would stay for hours on end as long as my leafy brown friend decided to hang with me. That same office used to be only five minutes away from JR Cigars in Whippany, New Jersey, and in the afternoons, I’d often bring my laptop there and revel in the scent of premium-aged tobacco.

I wrote a feature story a while back in Cigar Magazine about the positive effects that cigar smoking has on your mental state. Online I found an article from the New York Times that I believe was from 1910. The author surveyed 100 people from that era who were authors, poets, novelists, and playwrights – all who smoked – and asked if they felt that the act of smoking aided in the creative process. It was overwhelming what the writers had to say about their precious tobacco. Of course cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were all included, and even though I focused on the cigar lovers, those who smoked while they worked claimed it was a tremendous benefit and swore how it relaxed the mind and allowed the universe to work its magic through their souls. Some got to the point where they simply could not go into creative mode without the accompaniment of a smoke. Much like lighting incense for meditation, it’s the scent and the repetition of the physical act that puts you into state. Hey, the same thing happens when you light a cigar on the back deck, in the garage, or on the golf course. Your mind goes into a relaxed state and all around is good. Like the scribes from the NY Times article, a good cigar tells my mind and my body that everything is good, everything is right, and creating becomes so much easier.

Some have referred to me as a wuss and ask who wears the pants in my family, yada, yada, yada. But please understand – my wife is an incessant nag, and the nagging is enough to send one off the proverbial deep end. To those who think I’m being cruel about my spouse – you don’t know her. Nagging is in her blood and she’s done it since the day I met her. She doesn’t know she’s doing it, and it’s not to be harmful or out of spite. It’s just a congenital trait of hers and there are days I’d rather pour bleach into my eyes that deal with it. So, go ahead, call me a wuss and taunt me with your belittling barbs – It has NOTHING to do with growing a pair – I choose not to smoke in my home out of self-preservation.

Again I say, I envy you who enjoy your cigars within your domicile – especially during the long winter months where the back deck or the golf course is simply not an option. Wow, I’m craving a delicious, fragrant cigar right this very moment. Hmmm. JR is only half an hour away and a Nicaraguan lunch is just what then doctor ordered.

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog with the Zman

If you did anything yesterday other than watch the Super Bowl, then you were certainly in the minority amongst the people of North America. Yes, even our Canuckle-headed neighbors to the north hunker down for the American Pigskin Classic. It was a well-played game between the best two teams in the NFL, and you certainly can’t begrudge the winners for their tremendous performance. If only for a short while, the city of New Orleans has risen from the ashes to celebrate one hell of an accomplishment.

To many, the Super Bowl isn’t even about the game. Chicks who don’t give a rat’s ash and non-sports fans alike use the game as a social gathering while asking every five minutes, “Now what has to happen in order for me to get 6 – 8 in my box pool?” I try to ignore them, but when it’s your wife, that’s just plain hard to do.

Whether you like football or not, the food is what brings us all great happiness. Any Bowl game party is an eclectic mix of fattening foods we feast on fastidiously. Pictured here is “yours truly” slow-cooking wings on the grill in 20 degree weather, about an hour before the game. I huddled against the Weber with liquid hops and barley in one hand, and a Nestor Plasencia Special Selection in the other. It’s tough to enjoy a cigar in the outdoors for us in the north this time of year, but I managed to stay warm enough to revel in that delicious premium stick of tobacco. I’m sure those of you in more pleasant climates smoked a number of fine stoags. You have my permission to share your smoking pleasures right here.

As far as the chow at the Z home went, this year we didn’t go crazy and stayed with traditional fare. My daughter did a crockpot of chili that simmered for hours and made the whole house smell so good. She also made homemade pigs in the blanket, and when you use a good brand like Hebrew National, it really makes all the difference in the world. I basted the bbq wings in garlic and hot sauce, and like I said, slow-cooked them to stay moist. We didn’t go nuts, but I’m sure a lot of you did, and once again, this is the place to share. What kind of ethnic dishes or foods indigenous to your region did you gorge on?

I wanted to have another cigar at halftime, but didn’t want to miss The Who, a band I’ve always loved. And while I give the old boys credit for rocking at their ages, wow – their better days about 20 years behind them. Yeah, Daltry’s 66, but hitting those highs just wasn’t in the plans, and ol’ Petey has sure packed on a few extra pounds. The light show was great the crowd dug it, and I give them high marks for effort… but not so much on the execution. Me thinks I’m being “too” kind.

And then there were the commercials… the coveted Super Bowl spots that ran at 2.5 million dollars for 30 seconds. As and ex ad man of 20 years I tend to look at the commercials with a critical eye. And with that being said – as a whole: they totally sucked. There is NOTHING funny about a guy in a coffin full of orange chips. The problem is that the ad agencies got a little too self absorbed this year, trying WAY TOO HARD to be crazy/clever/wacky, and fell flat on their faces with their execution. The purpose of an ad is to create product recognition and brand retention. This is where the lot of them failed miserably. Inane beer ads, screaming fowl, and Betty White rolling around in the mud is just wrong. And even in satire, the Green Police pissed me off with its all “too-true” politically correct message.

Oh yeah, there was a game, too. I was admittedly sticking with the Manning family while rooting for the Colts. Unfortunately, Peyton threw one bad pass all day – at thee most inopportune time. I think EVERYONE believed he was going to tie the game and send the Bowl to it’s first ever overtime. No denying, Drew Brees has become one of the NFL’s elite and to think that the Chargers just sent the guy packing. And that onside kick was a hell of a goddamned call, one that will be remembered for decades to come. The entire world was taken by surprise and even the cameramen had a hard time following it. That was an incredibly gutsy call, knowing that the Colts could end up with the ball close to mid-field. You know, it wasn’t the greatest Super Bowl ever, but it was certainly entertaining. And what’s very cool is that I have the distinction of seeing all 44 of these matches, although I was a little dude during the first Green Bay wins. I vividly remember the Jets taking SB III and the heavily favored Joe Capp lead Vikings being embarrassed by the Kansas City Chiefs, the following January.

So another “Big Game” is in the books and a new champion is crowned. Around 4:30am the acid reflux set in and it was a hell of a reminder that getting older sure has a way of f’ing with your body. Did I forget to mention the barnyard type flatulence? Okay, okay, no need to stink up a perfectly good blog.

Til next time,

TOMMY Z

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

February 2^nd is Ground Hog Day. In Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, the local folk gather round for the bizarre celebration of yanking a groundhog named Phil from his hoggish abode and determining whether the lil’ f@#ker can see his shadow or not. If he does, legend has it that there will be six more weeks of winter. Yeah, and monkeys will fly from my fat Polish dupa.

Tradition is sometimes strange and this certainly is a wacky one. The people of this little western PA town get all worked up as they gather in Gobbler’s Knob, dancing, eating, and celebrating the existence of the pudgy little quadruped. The town has a little over 6,000 residents, yet a good 40,000 people have turned out for this yearly display of celestial prognostication. It’s pure fun and merriment, so what could be the possible harm in that?

Enter PETA, the self imposed animal rights group who perform asinine stunts to gain attention and take it upon themselves to throw buckets of blood on fur wearers while screaming the words “Murderer, murderer!” Seems that smack in the midst of the world’s outpouring of help towards the Haitian people, the sanctimonious psychos of animal land have decreed that it is a torturous act being committed by the holders of the Pennsylvania celebration, which dates all the way back to 1886. You see, they no longer want to exploit fattie Phil… and get this… are you ready… I swear to God, I ain’t making this up… they want the ‘real’ Phil replaced by a robot.

According to PETA executive vice president Tracy Reiman, an animatronic Phil “would attract new and curious tourists” to Punxsutawney’s annual event.

“Hey honey, ya think the robot’s gonna see his shadow this year? Yer not sure? You mean you don’t care? I understand.”

The fanatical folks of PETA have once again proved that they have bats in their collective belfry, which I would imagine are being harmed and may be replaced by robots as well. William Deeley, president of the groundhog club, said that the animal was “treated better than the average child in Pennsylvania”. What I’ve personally heard is that Phil is set up in a pretty swank little place to live and even rooms with a female hog to keep his loins in perfect working order. I hear he even has his own hoggy little humidor to enjoy his favorite smokes. No, really, that’s what I heard. Where did I get this info? I don’t know, are you questioning my journalistic sources? That’s not cool and you know I’m sworn not to reveal my source. The nerve.

Of course several channels on TV are running ‘Groundhog Day’, the Bill Murray film from 1993, where Pittsburgh weatherman, Phil Connor relives the same day of his life over and over and over until the powers of the universe determine that he get things right. I did a little web search and the movie’s writers and producers estimate that Connor spent maybe ten years or more repeating that same day in PA. If that were me, I would have found the nearest smokeshops and herfed until my friggin brains imploded. You could smoke twenty cigars in a day and wake up the next morning without your mouth tasting like a garbage dump fire. I actually just looked up a list of Cigar shops in the Keystone State and while none reside in Punxsutawney, some are close enough where you could hop in the weather van and get there before the blizzard sets in. I’d pack some sandwiches, grab a local broad or two that I tricked into thinking they sat next to me in high school English, and smoke premium cigars until Sonny and Cher sung ‘I Got You Babe’ one more time.

So, Happy Groundhog Day to you all and let’s hope the pudgy fur ball is shadow free again in the 2010.

Tommy Z

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman