Cigars I Smoke

Fuck yeah! Ironman, smoking. 

Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar By Thomas Stearns Eliot Tra-la-la-la-la-la-laire--nil nisi divinum stabile  est; caetera fumus--the gondola stopped, the old  palace was there, how charming its grey and pink--  goats and monkeys, with such hair too!--so the  countess passed on until she came through the  little park, where Niobe presented her with a  cabinet, and so departed.  Burbank crossed a little bridge  Descending at a small hotel;  Princess Volupine arrived,  They were together, and he fell.  Defunctive music under sea  Passed seaward with the passing bell  Slowly: the God Hercules  Had left him, that had loved him well.  The horses, under the axletree  Beat up the dawn from Istria  With even feet. Her shuttered barge  Burned on the water all the day.  But this or such was Bleistein's way:  A saggy bending of the knees  And elbows, with the palms turned out,  Chicago Semite Viennese.  A lustreless protrusive eye  Stares from the protozoic slime  At a perspective of Canaletto.  The smoky candle end of time  Declines. On the Rialto once.  The rats are underneath the piles.  The jew is underneath the lot.  Money in furs. The boatman smiles,  Princess Volupine extends  A meagre, blue-nailed, phthisic hand  To climb the waterstair. Lights, lights,  She entertains Sir Ferdinand  Klein. Who clipped the lion's wings  And flea'd his rump and pared his claws?  Thought Burbank, meditating on  Time's ruins, and the seven laws.

El ex presidente Adolfo Suárez fumando un buen puro.

I am thinking about trying one of them.

La Matadora, vintage cigar advertising

Amazing infographic for a beautiful Sunday morning.

An all-time favourite. King Edward cigars.

Vintage advertising.

Why are the smokers always the evil guys?