Spring

Spring is not a conservative season. Nor summer.

Any season where it is either too damp or too warm to smoke a pipe comfortably is not conducive to the conservative elitist, who likes to stare down his nose while puffing at a heavy, room-clearing latakia. Spring and summer were designed for the liberal hedonist, whose pleasures are more bestial, unrefined, and insatiable.

Pipe smoking and cognac-sipping are best suited to autumn, though the addict will often suffer through the frozen chill of winter to smoke his bowl without offending his housemates.

I hate spring.