We’ve all been told from a very early age that breaking the law can get you in trouble. Get caught stealing from a store and you will be arrested. Punch someone in the face in the street and you will be put away. Sell pot near a school and you’ll be fitted for a nice new pair of handcuffs. Handing a note to a bank teller while wearing a rubber mask will sound the alarm for sure. Bring a machine gun onto the bus and people will rat on you. Hurl a brick at a policeman and you will be severely punished. Walk into church playing hackey sack in the nude and just see what happens. (Damn, the last time I tried that, Sister Mary Margaret reached out and confiscated the wrong ball.)

But guess what my fine brothers of the grand leafiness… Smoke a cigar in Denville, New Jersey and yes, you will be imprisoned.

WTF you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?

Like so many other small town USA’s, Denville, NJ has adopted strict smoking laws in outdoor areas – you know outdoors – where are there billions of square feet of open air for smoke to dissipate, including hundreds of miles straight up. You know, where garbage trucks, busses, and cars emit carbon dioxide and pump other toxic waste into the air we breathe by the mega-gallon. Get caught smoking on public side walks, parks, play grounds, parking lots, yada, yada yada, and first time offenders will receive a fine of a $100 or up to two days of community service. Now… second-time offenders could face a $250 fine or five days of picking up garbage along side county inmates in their flaming orange jumpsuits. But get caught a third time? You ready for this one, people? The new ordinance passed in a 7-0 town council meeting states that a third time smoking offense in public can garner you ten days of community do-gooderness, and for real – I’m not kidding here… A trip to the slammer! That’s right, you will be arrested, place in cuffs, put into a squad car, taken downtown, get booked and thrown into jail… for smoking.

Hellooooooooo… people of Denville… Stalin is calling and he wants his hammer and sickle back.

What I find terribly disconcerting is that a town council in local suburbia has wielded the power of incarcerating a person for an act that is and always has been legal. I repeat, it is not an illegal act to enjoy a cigar in public, yet this group of self-righteous demi-gods has deemed it a crime who’s punishment is the same as the acts I stated in the first paragraph. (And if you ask me, it was that damned nun who was totally out of line. Hey, I was emotionally scared and it’s hard to let this one go.)

I’m at a loss here and I’m sure it is the same for you too, that the politico climate in this country is producing such outrageous acts of socialist and communist extremism. I know I sound like a broken record, but damn people, this isn’t really about smoking… it is about the stripping away of our freedoms in a country where men laid down their lives for the pursuit of this freedom. I just spent a week in Williamsburg, Virginia and learned a great deal about the people who fought tyranny and repressive laws in order to enjoy the fruits of life. Patrick Henry had the stones to stand up and say, “Give me liberty or give me death,” and the guy meant it, no questions asked. Now, while I won’t stand and say, “Give me cigars or give me death,” I will continue to make a public stink about these draconian laws instituted by incredibly small minds.

A couple of years ago it started with the town of Belmont, California, who deemed it illegal to smoke in public. One of the councilmen, a local-yocal, small time, business goon actually said something to the effect of, “Can you imagine the lives that could be saved with this law?” I just completely lost it when I read his comments. YOU?… You want to save ME from MYSELF? Holy tobacco beetles, Batman, the world has tipped on its axis and the shit is running downstream at an alarming rate.

So what’s the answer? I say total raging anarchy, tea party times ten. We have to make noise and we have to get ugly. Unfortunately, it will probably take a group of us dumb-asses to go to alert the media, visit Denville three days in a row, stoke up our stogies and get tossed into the can. Although I’m not keen on having a record, it does seem like something that would get noticed, don’t you think? Say, who’s with me? Who are the men and who are the mice in this bunch?! To the parapets men, we have not yet begun to fight! (yeah, so I borrowed that one… it’s not like the dude is going to sue me.)

Okay, I know I’m babbling on, here, but this is serious, because as always, the logical question to ask is… WHAT’S NEXT? What will they tax next? What will they take away next? A lot of people read this blog and a lot of us can make some noise. We ARE sick and tired of this and we’re NOT going to take it anymore? Right comrades? Oops, socialist slip.

Til Next Time, My Brothers,

Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Did the Clark W. Griswold thing this past week and took the family on the yearly vacation jaunt. This time it was Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, home to Busch Gardens Amusement Park and a place rich in American Revolutionary War history. Lots to do in this sweltering heat pit, with daily heat indexes of around 107 and humidity you could slice with a minuteman’s bayonet.

Like a good dad, I pre-planned the trip to a tee, mapping out the attractions, the tours, the restaurants, and the directions. But most importantly of all, I strategically researched perhaps the key spot to make any vacation the very best it can possibly be – the local cigar shop and lounge.

Yeah, I had it planned perfectly – drop the kiddies and the wife off at the park, then head straight for a smoke at the nearest stogie shop. How do I get away with this after a nine-hour car trip, you say? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret… I HATE RIDES. I have ALWAYS hated amusement park rides from the time I was five when my dad stuck me on that goddamned roller coaster all by myself as I screamed in terror for what seemed like an eternity. If it were today, I would have called child services on my parents within an instant. But yeah, I have a true disdain for scary carts on metal wheels that hang you inverted over the pavement two miles in the air, then send you spiraling to what seems like certain death. Okay, I mean I’ll do a few rides like the spinning teacups and the kiddie boats where you can blow the horn, but unfortunately that stuff is always in the opposite side of the park from where my death-defying teenagers want to be.

Now the family knows quite well that I’ll not only stay away from the terror-laden so-called fun stuff, but I’ll also bitch about it the whole time while I sit as the family waits on some godforsaken two hour line. Oh, I’ll bitch and I’ll bitch, and I’ll bitch, bitch, bitch until they tell me – I mean order me to stay away from the park. “Go dad… go back to the hotel pool and we’ll see you later!” the family shouts out as I put on the sad face as if I’m going to miss everyone terribly. Yeah, miss them, my ass, as I crank up the pre-programmed gps and head straight for the closest smokatorium.

I always love finding a new cigar shop in virgin territory. Makes me kind of feel like the Jamestown settlers from 1607, except I’m not being attacked by Indians or starving to death (I mean really, have you seen me?) The sights and smells of a newly found walk-in humidor raises the consciousness level to great heights, while perusing the cornucopia of premium sticks is certainly the cigar smokers equivalent of highly erotic foreplay. Sure I’m a weirdo, but you know exactly what the hell I’m talking about.

So I pick out several staogs that I normally can’t find in my area, along with several that are just ridiculously cheaper because of the lower state taxes on tobacco in Virginia. I feel like I’ve made the ultimate score as the cashier rings up my bounty of cigarry goodness. Once I’ve harvested my selections I head to the small lounge of leather thrones as the locals are tossing the bull and trading their manly-esque banter.

“Hey guys, mind if I join in?” I ask, knowing that my Jersey accent is a certain request awaiting for my Joe Pesci, Goodfellas diatribe.

After exchanging pleasantries, the boys dive right in with their thoughts on politics, sports, women, gun control, food, yada, yada, yada. The great thing about cigar lounge prattle is that no one is there for the purpose of problem solving or saving the world, but instead, it’s just a gathering of guys who revel in the fine art of camaraderie.

After a couple hours and two really great smokes, it’s time to go pick up the loved ones at the park so we can go to bed and get ready for the week’s events at Colonial Williamsburg…like more cigar smoking and bullshitting with the locals. It’s a long and weary journey, but somebody has to make the selfless sacrifice.

Man, I just love vacation, don’t you?

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman

I am telling you that there is nothing in this world that makes a long car trip go by fast than when you light up a good stogie. Bringing your favorite smoke along for the ride is like having a best pal in the car – one who doesn’t say a word, give you any flack, and just does his thing – and THAT is a beautiful thing.

I took a little trip this weekend to a friend’s house just southwest of Philadelphia, and thank God I had my happy sticks along for the trek. It’s supposed to take two and a half hours to get there, but torrential rains the entire way turned it into a four-hour marathon.  Yeah it was dismal, traffic was hellish and accidents were to the left and right of me, but nothing could go wrong as long as my premium hand-rolled buddies made everything just a whole lot better.

What a psycho pig I was as I toked three on the way there and two on the way home, but like I said, when the smoke is swirling from a “car-gar” everything on the roadways seem just right. I started out in the late morning with a Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real – a golden wrapped beautiful with nice flavor that accompanied my coffee quite nicely. Unfortunately the coffee produced a rather moving experience as I took an early rest stop at a crowded Exxon in western Jersey. Whew… you guys know damned well what I’m talking about. No need to spell it out.

It’s never too early for a second smoke, and the Frank Llaenza 1961 Double Magnum was simply magnificent as the rain pounded my windshield, but it didn’t matter on bit. That dark, rich, luscious ’61 and I were having some quality time, and a little atmospheric pressure was not going to disturb a good run. God dayum that is a fantastic smoke if you haven’t tried it yet. And if you have, then you sure as hell know what I’m talking about. Of course the stomach started grumbling so I cleared my palate with an egg sandwich and immediately started debating on the next cigar to keep my taste buds occupied. With the palate already bombarded with a myriad of textures and tastes, I needed something with some serious heft and body to cut thru the rubble, and the uber dark, rich and oily Omar Ortez did just the trick, Man, that cigar is full bodied up the ying yang and by the time it was done, I was parked in front of my pal’s abode. Sweet.

There’s a lot of great things about cigar smoking, but the companionship and camaraderie a rolled up stick of smoldering aged leaf can bring is sometimes it’s own little Master Card moment. When you’re golfing, fishing, barbecuing, or partaking in any other manly ritual, the cigar is something that just makes the moment a whole lot better. So today we salute the Car Gar – a gift from the great tobacco gods to make your trip a happy happy, joy joyful time.

Smoke cuz ya gottem, Gents.

Tommy Z,

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

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Speaking of Cars & Cigars…

The next JR Classic Car Night will be held on Friday, August 13th in Whippany, NJ from 6 – 10 pm! Come eat, smoke and be merry as you oogle these amazing works of art!

The REAL Politico Agenda

On October 2^nd, 2008, in only my second blog ever here at JR, I wrote the following words…

“Career politicians are scum. They are liars, thieves, scoundrels, and whores. There isn’t a one of them that doesn’t have three sixes branded on the back of their necks. They suck up to special interest groups like the anti-tobacco lobby and do not care about lumping cigars in with cigarettes. It is time to put an end to career political stoogery. It’s time the people were heard.”

My feelings haven’t changed any since then – well, actually, my contempt for these jackass’s has grown even stronger if anything. Something is fundamentally wrong with these people – ethically, morally, and spiritually and for the life of me, I can’t understand what motivates these dirtbags to go into this line of work. Okay, money, power, fame, prestige, yada, yada, yada. I get that. But why put your cojones on public display like that? Do they really think they are going to change the way things run in the political system? Do they really think they’re going to make things better for the people? And lastly, do they really believe that imposing more and more taxes upon the American citizens is the way we will crawl out of this economic sink-hole?

Meet David Paterson, friends. If you don’t know him, he’s the governor of New York State and he’s as blind as a goddamned bat. Now, I’m not referring to his eyesight, but yes, the man is legally blind. I was referring to his classic politico tax and spend lunacy that he has thrust upon Albany ever since his ex wing-eared, bald boss, Eliot Spitzer got caught with his hands in the nookie jar. Patterson proposed a tax for New York state on all soda, juice, and candy products – anything with sugar. Of course the lobbies for these industries went ballistic and Patterson took a verbal beatdown for his blatant idiocy. But now dumbass Dave needs a “fix New York quick solution”, so the state has passed a tobacco tax increase that will raise the all ready horribly high tax rate from 46% to a smothering 75%. And to make matters worse, this clown initially proposed a 90% increase.

Now I don’t smoke cigarettes and I don’t care for them, but a pack in New York is going to be around $12. But what I do care for are cigars, and the increase to 75% is going to put a hurt on the state’s retailers like nothing they have ever felt before. Let’s put it this way…. You Mr. cigar lover can sit in front of your computer, press a few keys, and purchase a $150 box of your favorite stoagies for – yes $150. But come August 1^st, walk into a tobacco store in New York State and try to purchase a $150 box of cigars and the cost will be $262.50. So, I ask the ridiculous question… where would you choose to buy your precious smokes? While it doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure this out, it seems that New York’s clueless leader doesn’t understand simple economics. It’s very easy to digest dopey Dave… people will either log onto the internet or purchase their premium handrolled cigars out of state. When this happens, the State of New York will not collect the tax revenues that you thought it would. And to make things infinitely worse, cigar & tobacco retailers in New York will see a massive decline in sales, forcing many or most out of business. You will destroy small business across the state and not make up for the state’s deficit in the least. You will hurt New York. Mr. Patterson, and for the rest of you boneheaded legislators of the Empire State, I ask you… if everyone else can see this to be the truth, why the hell can’t you?

Ah, and now for the REAL truth…

The answer… because politicians WANT to eradicate smoking all together. THAT ladies and germs is the real agenda. You heard it from Tommy Z. These politico jackals pander heavily for votes and to the anti-smoking lobby, and they know quite well that raising taxes to the point where no one will be able to afford to purchase tobacco products is what gets them elected. There is no doubt in my mind that THIS is the method to their sickening madness as we just pull down our trousers, bend over the closest desk or chair and take it firmly in the place it hurts the most (Sans lubricant, of course.).

And may I just note… isn’t it funny that that most of these fat cat politico bastids smoke cigars? WTF…right? Uh-huh.

So, what’s the answer? Well, preventing this, years before it happened was the real answer, but the cigar industry waited WAY TOO long and then reacted in a panic when Pelosi and the Hildbeast got the SCHIP bill in place. I think the only real thing left to do is to scream aloud, take to the streets and create complete and utter anarchy. Guys, if you think this stops at tobacco, YOU’RE WRONG. Our freedoms are being stripped away at an alarming pace and the only real question we can ask is… WHAT’S NEXT? Soda, red meat, liquor… when tobacco is eradicated the government will go after the next thing then the next, then the next. This isn’t about cigars, people, it’s about the preservation of our society – a society that is being gagged and bound by the unholy agenda of the political correct.

In closing, one day after Independence Day, I challenge YOU to grow a pair and make some real noise. Oh… okay… so you shake your head and say that you think it won’t help? Then fine… turn around, drop ‘em and take it like a man, bro. Personally, I’d rather go out kicking and screaming with my dignity in tact, clutching to the rights that our forefathers fought and died for.

Give these bastards bloody f@#king hell.

Tommy Z.

JR CIGARS Blog With the Zman