"You know not everybody can do that."
* * * * * * * * * *
Not everybody can tell how many cigars are in a box after a quick glance. Know something else not everybody can do? Recognize a person who can tell how many cigars are in a box after a quick glance after a quick glance.
"Seventeen," said Lew without any hesitation the other man could detect.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Seventeen. There's seventeen, George. Tell me about the cigars, George. How many are we going to have? Say 'Seventeen, Lenny.' Right, George? And we can roll them and humidify them and smoke them?"
*BLAM*
A plump and dapper individual was in buying domestic cheroots.
* * * * * * * * * *
How dapper can he be if he's buying "domestic cheroots"? That's like calling a guy who just popped in to the convenience store to pick up a six pack of Budweiser "fancy."
Whenever I hear/read the word dapper, I think of this: "To speak of it is not too dapper; it was invented by a man named Crapper" from Scavenger Hunt. It's probably why my initial reaction to the word is to think it has to do with attitude and demeanor rather than dress. Which you already knew after reading my initial comment on the line while probably thinking, "A guy can buy cheap cigars and still look nice while doing so, you stupid twat." And to that, I must say, "Touché! I am, in fact, a stupid twat!"
Anyway, it's 1893 and this guy can afford a cigar, even if it's a cheap one. Isn't everybody in that position sort of required by social contract in the 1800s to look "dapper"? How horrified would the people of the 19th century be to see the bullshit clothing modern people wear to walk around in public? And almost everybody sans hat! The shock! The horror!
It was that early hour in cigar stores all over town when boys are fetching in bricks that have been soaking all night in buckets of water, to be put into the display cases to keep the inventory humidified.
* * * * * * * * * *
Is this a morning wood joke? Maybe combined with a wet dream joke? Boys soaking in "water" all night? The early hour at the cigar store. Keeping the "inventory" "humidified."
Ha ha! I'm laughing so hard! It's just like my penis's teenage years!
Hmm. Now I'm doubting myself. What if this wasn't a metaphor for morning boners and wet dreams? What if it's just Pynchon not wanting the 1800s cigar store research he did go to waste? I suppose it could be both if you're desperate enough to read as large a percentage of Pynchon as you can get away with as penis jokes.
Ha ha. "Humidified." So true!
