#tiparillo

[smokedrunk]

Tiparillo, 1964.

[troquets]

Penny Edwards, Miss Tiparillo, au Shepheard's, 1964.

[imaynotdrinkbutiknowwhatilike]

1968 Tiparillo Cigars

[higherentity]

[digitalposterarchive]

1964 Should you offer your Aunt Zoë a Tiparillo

Source: Sports Illustrated Magazine  

Published at: https://propadv.com/smoking-ad-and-poster-collection/tiparillo-ad-and-poster-collection/

[gazonade]

[pettyparentguide]

#pictureoftheday #day106 #remindersofhome #missmydad #tiparillo #washup #fromtherain #easterday #2019 #april2019 #madisonnj https://www.instagram.com/p/BwieVVHhzXX/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=i482nhxdreh1

[ephemeraobscura]

General Cigar “Hall of Magic”, New York World’s Fair 1964-65

[thegikitiki]

1968 Advertisement for Tiparillo LP Cigars

[smokedrunk]

Tiparillo, 1964.

[cbjustmusic]

Darreii Scott performing "I Wish".

More from Darrell Scott: - The Man Who Could Have Played Bass For Sha Na Na - It’s a Great Day To Be Alive - This Beggar’s Heart ___________________________ I Wish Songwriter: Darrell Scott

I wish I was a chauffer  California, New Year's Eve  Driving around a pretty lady with a hanky up her sleeve  I would light her tiparillos just as civil as you please 

I wish I was a diver on a ship with Jacques Cousteau  I'd get a picture in our rubber suits so that everyone would know  "Hey, you really know Jacques?"  I'd say, "Yeah, just look at this"  I'd show it everywhere I go, Jacques Cousteau, Jacques Cousteau 

I wish I was a cartoon  I wish I was Peter Pan  Then I could fly away from sorrow and never have to feel like a man  You ask me why I'm still a child?  Well, it's just because I am 

I wish I had a cabin on the top of some big hill  I'd build a fire every evening and listen to thwe whipporwill  Eat my food out of a garden and drink my whiskey from a still 

I wish I was a diamond on the back of your skinny little hand  Then I could keep my eye on you  Maybe then I would understand  How you just leave us all weeping just to prove that you still can

[shitshowpulps]

No self respecting scuba diver would be coauthor without 2 packs of tiparillos

[higherentity]

[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

49, 47, 31, and 35 for the asks!

49, 47, 31, and 35 for the asks!

There is nothing better than an ask from my friend the Crazy Hand (official).

49. If you chose to get a tattoo what would it be and where would you want it?

Casey, I’m such NOT a tats person. Definitely an age thing; the only men I knew with tats were Scout leaders who had served in Korea or WW2 as enlisted men and had nothing to prove about masculinity to anyone. I don’t mind but don’t “get” tattoos.

I’m old enough to have been an executive at a manufacturing company that had a “no visible tattoos” policy for all salaried employees. It was a gang affiliation thing. We had a, ahem, a rough and tumble workforce if you’re following along. Think Fairless Works but much, much rougher.

47. Do you think you'd make a good teacher? Why or why not?

Yes, I would/will be an exceptional teacher, the best you ever had. I present well, relate to all ages/abilities, encourage but do not pamper, always offer alternate ways to solve a problem. Once I am mobile again I expect I will teach at the Community College level part time.

31. What is the 10th picture in your phone gallery?

As in Favorites? Sly Stone at Woodstock. As in a photo I took? A garden in Florence, Italy.

35. What did I think was cool when I was younger?

Hmm, say 12-14? Smoking. Coffee. Dave Brubeck. Cocktails (as a concept, I did not drink). Bossa Nova music. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones. Dressing well - the ‘collegiate look’ - button down oxford shirts, chinos, dirty bucs, argyle socks, natural shoulder suits, sport jackets of Harris Tweed (look for the label) Hendrix, Carnaby Street, smoking, outdoor clothing from LL Bean, camping, becoming self reliant (I could cook basic meals at 14). Smoking Tiparillo cigars. Smoking unfiltered Camel cigarettes. Clint Eastwood. Pretty girls. Having exceptional manners (Mom and Dad were sticklers). Writing to be understood. Being a good editor (I was at 12). Being a good public speaker (ditto). My Schwinn bike. Brut and Hai Karate cologne. Oh, and smoking cigarettes. Monty Python. Mad magazine. National Lampoon magazine. Playboy magazine! The *Education* of * Hyman * Kaplan*. Chip Hilton. The Hardy Boys. The Penrod Tales. The Philadelphia Phillies. Army Football. The Philadelphia Flyers. Penn basketball. The Penn Relays. Dragnet TV show. Adam-12 TV show. Combat! with Vic Morrow. N.C Wyeth. Dick Tracy comics. The movie Shane. Have I mentioned smoking?

[watusichris]

“Payday”: Rip Torn’s finest hour

In honor of the late Rip Torn, a story about a great performance, originally published by Trunkworthy. **********

As a onetime disc jockey in what was euphemistically referred to as a “medium-sized market,” I can testify to the verisimilitude of a telling scene in Daryl Duke’s remarkable 1973 drama Payday.

In the sequence, the film’s anti-hero, third-tier country singer Maury Dann (Rip Torn), stops by Montgomery, Alabama, radio station WHHY to pay an obligatory visit to DJ Bob Dickey (Earl Trigg). Looking to boost his airplay, Dann arrives bearing an insincere smile, a box filled with quail he has shot and a fifth of Wild Turkey, and a couple of copies of his LP Payday. He exchanges well-rehearsed on-air pleasantries about the jock’s family. Unctuous good ol’ boy Dickey braces the reluctant Maury to appear at a local show he’s promoting; barely maintaining his cool, the enraged musician parries the announcer’s every insistent thrust.

As penned by the wildly underrated novelist Don Carpenter, who also co-produced the feature, this sharply-observed scene is right on the money in its depiction of the unspoken, hackle-raising negotiations that take place among music biz bottom-feeders. Like the rest of the film, it’s as vivid and lingering as the smell of cheap perfume and Tiparillo smoke clinging to a polyester cowboy shirt.

Shot for less than $800,000 and indifferently distributed, Payday never had a chance at the box office; its tough, uncompromising, and hyper-realistic depiction of country music’s underbelly mitigated against widespread popular acceptance. Two years later, Robert Altman would use country for his massive canvas in Nashville and garnered universal acclaim. However, by sticking to the grass roots and driving the back routes of the music, Payday offered a fiercely-drawn character study that plays truer and deeper today than its award-winning successor.

Much of the picture’s considerable power derives from the central performance of Rip Torn, who plays a country musician quite unlike the standard cinematic issue. Tearjerking, Oscar-winning performances like those by Robert Duvall in Tender Mercies or Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart are the norm; the repentant alcoholic country outlaw brought back to life by the love of a good woman has become the prevailing movie cliché. Torn’s Maury is something else again: a raging, manipulative, and extremely dangerous sociopath who will trample anyone in his selfish pursuit of pleasure. It’s a testament to the actor’s skill that this outrageous, repellant figure sustains not only our fascination, but even enlists a bit of our sympathy.

Payday begins with Maury crooning his song “Country Girl” – written, like most of the film’s tunes, by Shel Silverstein, whose “A Boy Named Sue” became Johnny Cash’s biggest hit in 1969 – for the frowsy patrons of a roadhouse dive called Mr. Ed’s. It follows the singer’s life over the course of the next 36 hours, during which he veers toward a show in Birmingham in a cowhide-upholstered Cadillac, in the company of his devoted driver (Cliff Emmich), his blowsy girlfriend (Ahna Capri), and a dim-witted aspiring groupie (Elayne Heilveil). Along the way, he chugs bourbon, gobbles pills, commits multiple infidelities, fires his handgun, torments his drug-addicted mother and bitter ex-wife, sloughs off his most intimate relationships, and offhandedly commits a shocking crime. He even finds time to write a song. He’s a satanic Hank Williams on a terminal hellride.

It’s a scorched-earth turn by Torn, who today is better known for his character roles in the Men in Black series and TV’s The Larry Sanders Show. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, he was a formidable (albeit oddball) leading man, and his work here snaps your head back. But he is more than matched by some of the lesser-known supporting players, who deftly embody damaged small-town souls grasping at the country dream. The highlight of the film may be a quiet, overwhelmingly affecting scene between Emmich and Heilveil; the conversation is about making omelets and the deficiencies of Teflon-coated pans, but it’s really about the vacuity of their lives. Here, screenwriter Carpenter seems to be saying, are the people that country songs are written about.

[gazonade]