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We light up a cigar maybe once a month. Of course, they’re no damned good for us. If we had any doubts, the headache and swamp-breath the next day would remove them. Still, a spirit of convivial dissipation tells us to smoke’em if we’ve got’em. No need to warn us off cigars, or the inevitable accompaniments of brown liquor, rich food, and bad behavior. That would be futile.