I was asked by certain, special people, that have a lot to do with how the world works, to meet with the Libyan President.
I told them no. ”This guy is a fruit cake and I don't like fruit cake. “
But they kept on hammering me and then used the one tool they had in hiding: an IRS audit.
Damn!
“OK...I'll go. But you supply the sticks. On your dime.”
I demanded a bunch of CAO cigars. And 250 million Euros in a Cayman Islands bank.
It was a long plane trip. I don't sleep well on planes. So I drank about 35 Yoo Hoos and went to the bathroom a lot.
A jeep picked me up at the airport in an undisclosed location. A soldier was my driver.
“How you doin'?” I said.
He looked at me and spit.
“All right then....off to a good start. How about if I remove all the veins in your neck for you,” I said with a smile.
He spit on me again. So I spit back. We did this a few times until he got a flying bug in his mouth and choked. So I let him have it with a barrage of spits while he gasped for air. I shoved him out of the jeep because I could see our destination and I figured he'd have a better chance getting the bug out of his mouth bouncing on the ground.
I parked in front of a bunker. I grabbed my travel humidor and walked straight through the front door of the bunker. Two guards spit on me as I entered. I figured I'd get them on the way out.
And there he was. Sitting on a throne, but smaller.
“How you doin', Moe?”
Gaddafi rose and began a tirade with a lot of spittle coming from his mouth while he pounded the table in front of him.
“Calm down, Moe. You're beginning to give me a headache. You want a cigar?”
He stopped the rambling and and asked in broken English, “What kind you got?”
“Lets see here,” as I went through my options.....here it is. A CAO Criollo Pata. How's this?”
“I heard of this CAO. That mean Central American Organization, right?”
I shook my head. This is a fine multi country cigar made up of Cuban seed Criollo tobaccos and Nicaraguan filler and binders. And it doesn't taste like dates.”
He calmed down immediately. “I hate dates.”
“OK.” I snipped the end and handed it to him. He smelled the cigar up and down and said he could smell sweet spice and walnuts. “This is good. I no smell dates.”
Now listen here Moe. You have had just about enough time in power. You know you gotta' get out. C'mon. Since 1969? You want them to bury you on your throne or do you want to spend your last days on a beach in the Bahamas drinking rum and smoking cigars...spending the billions you stole from your people?”
He nodded.
I lit my cigar. It had hints of nuts, wood, leather...an earthy cedar. The wrapper was silky brown and I could detect a small aroma of cocoa.
Moe was already enjoying his “spy” cigar.
Into the first inch, I could taste sweet tobacco, a bit of anise, some spice and a creamy toffee. Holy cow. I had let these age for 6 months and mama come home to roost.
Moe said to me, “I President. I don't have to leave.!”
“Yeah you do, you putz. Your people are sick of you and your behavior. Let me tell you a secret.”
I leaned over closer to him and he leaned in. I whispered into his ear and his eyes got bigger and bigger.
“If that's the way you want to go out, go for it. No skin off my back.” He leaned back and sucked on his cigar.
I was getting a definite medium body profile to the cigar. The construction was perfect and so was the burn. No touch ups required.
As I got into the last third, I could taste dried dark fruit. I was afraid Moe would think this was dates but he he had his head back thinking about what I told him...the cigar clenched between his teeth.
I could also taste cherry and cocoa. This cigar has it all. A full flavored profile in a medium body smoke. It's a small cigar...only 4-7/8 x 50....like a robusto...45 minute smoke at the most.
In that time, Moe had a chance to think of his chances with his people ready to storm the gates in order to take back their dignity and humanity.
Moe didn't care about that. He was more concerned that if he didn't do what I suggested and get the hell out of Dodge...and soon...I'd be letting a certain small country have access to him and he can live out his days eating matzoh ball soup...with extra dates.
The Bahamas seemed like a better choice. And no taxes.
The Criollo is an all around hearty cigar. A little of everything for the smoker. I enjoyed mine and Moe definitely seemed to enjoy his. He was down to the nub.
“OK. You ready to go?”
Moe looked at me with sad eyes. And nodded his head yes.
Can I have more of these Central American Organization cigars?”
“You betcha' Moe. We'll even give you a discount, even though they are reasonably priced.
“How about $1250 each? To be paid directly to the people of Libya?” He nodded.
We got up, I spit in his face, he spit in mine and we walked towards the entrance of the bunker. I pushed Moe out first and his soldiers spit on him thinking it would be me. They spent the rest of their days in a Abu Dhabi prison living on dates and water. Stale dates.
So I guess that I can say that the CAO Criollo Pato brought peace to Libya. That and a few well placed threats.
If only it worked that way. God speed to the people of Libya and allow them to do what the brave Egyptian people were able to accomplish.
And hail the CAO!
[Reply]
:-) :-) It has apparently taken it's toll.