Brecker Brothers.
Some Skunk Funk.
Don’t like Hardcore Fusion?
Then you’re shaking for a reason.
Better click on another link. . . quick.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PebLGYvG7E]

Working on some stuff in the journal.
The words don’t seem to want to cooperate.
Sombitch. Give me a few days.
For now, enjoy the pic.
And yes, if I were in this situation,
the outcome could be described using this culinary euphemism for death:
just add maggots. . .

~m

ps. tnx, LS for the email

Now and then our path in life seems to makes perfect sense. . . for particular reasons.
The people we meet, the music we listen to, the food we eat, the books we read; occasionally it all seems to fit into the grand scheme of things.
I have always been a firm believer in destiny.
If you’ve been here before, you probably already know that.
I met someone when I started working in Boston that has singlehandedly changed my life in numerous and wonderful ways.
He’s renewed my interest in music and taught me about what it means to really have heart, an essential and sadly missing emotional component in society today.
There are days when all the world seems so superficial and out of whack.
It makes me sad.
I discovered that it sometimes takes only one special person to change that seemingly distorted viewpoint.
In the past year or two, I’ve been introduced to music that has made my heart sing; NCQ (New Cuban Quartet), Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Michel Camilo, Paquito Rivera, Bebo and Chucho Valdes, the Gonzalez brothers and on and on.
My listening has increased to a point where there just isn’t enough time in a day to listen to all I want to listen to. And it’s a beautiful thing knowing I almost lost my ability and desire to ‘listen’.
I just wanted to take time to thank this wonderful and compassionate soul for entering my life. He makes me think there’s real hope for the world.
I love him like a brother and I know he doesn’t think he’s even worthy of a post such as this.
Eliud, you are. . .
The video below is there after a brilliant suggestion from Lolly.
It’s Michel Camilo’s performance “From Within” from Calle 54.
Camilo is absolutely stunning as is Anthony Jackson on bass.
Try to keep your eyes on Camilo’s hands.  Amazing.
Enjoy…

~m

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXT07AnkYRE]

The following is a list of dos and don’ts when entering an age-old cigar shop to purchase a stogie. My daily exposure to the sheer stupidity sometimes astounds me.
Some customers are really fascinating people with stories and anecdotes that make the job worthwhile.
But there are others that think that what we do is some kind of sophomoric game that requires no skill or brains and that we’re there for their entertainment.
This is for those customers.

Do your homework and have a clue as to what you want. I’m not clairvoyant.
Saying things like, “I’ve never done this before, “and “I have no idea what he/she smokes,” doesn’t help your cause.
I’ll just assume you’re an idiot and sell you something I personally like.
In most cases, your stupidity has served you well.
This applies to men and women.

If you’re a guy and come in asking for a raspberry and coconut flavored cigar, we will say (after you’ve left, empty handed), “Wow. What a dickhead.”

Don’t ask for my opinion if you have no intention whatsoever of taking it. You’re wasting my time and really cheesing me off.
I may end up selling you something I can’t seem to give away because it sucks so bad.

After I’ve totaled your purchase and I’m in the middle of counting you back your change, please dear God, don’t say, “Oh, wait, I’ve got the 36 cents, if that makes it easier.”
Your window of opportunity closed 30 seconds ago, douche bag.

This applies to the ladies:
If you come in to buy cigars for your hubby or boyfriend, cover your mouth and nose and glare at me while I smoke my cigar before asking, “Why is it so smoky in here?!” ,
you may want to consider going to CVS to buy some stale, short-filler, tastes like a rolled-up NY Times, cigars.
The end result won’t be quite the same in terms of product, but you’ll be able to uncover your nose and your mouth and take in the exotic honeysuckle perfume of the 86 year old woman standing next to you buying Depends.

Never come into the store and ask, “Hey, do you guys sell cigars here?!”
That may have been funny when Roosevelt was in office but it’s getting a bit old these days. We won’t laugh but we will say to each other (while you’re still in the store)
“Wow. What a dickhead.”

More phrases and questions we hate to hear:

“How much are these bad boys?”

“Jeepers, I feel like a little kid in a candy store.”
(Yeah, the first one is one the house, kid. Inhale deeply.)

“Do you guys sell bongs?”

or

“Do you guys sell small pipes?”
(Does it look like a head shop, buddy? I didn’t think so.)

Sometimes I think people assume we’re just burnt out and unintelligent salespeople.
We do burn out from time to time but we’re not simpletons.
We know what we’re doing simply because we’ve done it for so long.
We can usually send you out with exactly what you want if you would just shut your cakehole long enough for us to ask a few simple questions.
But do you?
Nooooo.
I guess that would make my job too easy. Ughh.

Should you walk in and make a point of letting me know how much more knowledgeable you are regarding cigars, I will gladly hand you the coveted “Chump of the Day” award, an imaginary trophy given to the biggest bonehead of the day.
We give one away on a daily basis, get here early and show us your stuff.

Anyone who is in the retail field can associate with the consumer mentality I’m talking about here. Sometimes you just have to scream, ya know?

~m