Ah, the Liga Undercrown 10—a symphony rolled in leaf, a song sung in smoke. If Walt Whitman himself could capture the rugged, unrefined beauty of America, then surely this cigar is his poetic counterpart. It is bold, it is vast, it is unapologetically alive. 

The wrapper is dark, as if kissed by the sun and hardened by time, a testament to labor and love. I held it in my hand, felt the texture—rough yet inviting—like the calloused palm of a working man. I could almost hear Whitman whisper, “I sing the body electric,” for this stick hums with power even before the flame meets its foot.

The first draw—rich, full, and complex. The earthiness of soil well-tended, the sweetness of molasses whispering from a bygone age, and the spice, oh the spice! It dances on the tongue, a waltz of pepper and cocoa, bold and unabashed. It’s a declaration of independence in every puff. It’s the kind of cigar that makes you want to lean against a tree, with a big old grin on your face while you just take the time to appreciate the simplicity and depth of it all. 

This is a cigar for storytellers and dreamers, for those who take the scenic route and relish the journey.

By the halfway point, the flavor deepens. Notes of leather and espresso weave through the smoke like old tales told by firelight. It is smooth yet daring, bold yet balanced.  Life is just somehow better with a good cigar and good company.

The finish is long and lingering, like the last note of a blues song that hangs in the humid Southern air. It doesn’t just end—it resonates. 

This isn’t just a cigar; it’s an experience, a reminder that some things are meant to be savored slowly. Liga Undercrown 10 is a celebration—a testament to craft, tradition, and the simple, complex joy of living.

So light one up, sit back, and listen to the poetry of smoke and time. As Whitman would say, “I am large, I contain multitudes,” and so does this cigar.

-MJHarvell

MJHarvell.commjharvell@gmail.com

mjharvell@gmail.com

Galatians 5:14 says, “For the whole law can be summed up in this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” Now, that sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? But if you’ve ever had a neighbor who mows his yard at 6 a.m. on Saturday or lets his dog treat your yard like the city park, you know loving your neighbor ain’t always easy.

Lewis Grizzard once said, “The only difference between a yard sale and a trash pickup is how close to the road the stuff is.” And some folks’ lives look a lot like a yard sale—messy, scattered, maybe even a little broken. But that’s exactly why this verse matters.

Loving your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to be best friends or agree on everything. It just means you see them as God sees them—flawed, but worthy of grace. It means choosing kindness over criticism, patience over pettiness, and forgiveness over grudges.

Loving your neighbor is a way of loving God. It’s an act of worship. It’s seeing beyond the rough edges to the soul God created. It’s realizing that sometimes, the hardest people to love are the ones who need it the most.

So today, find a way to love your neighbor—yes, even the one who mows too early. It might just be the loudest sermon you’ll ever preach without saying a word.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure—or maybe the misfortune—of running into a Southern belle with a bit too much charm and sass for her own good, then you’ve already met Fat Bottom Betty. This cigar is like that gal who waltzes into the room, all curves and confidence, and leaves you trying to remember what just hit you. 

From the moment you light her up, Fat Bottom Betty hits you with a sweet, caramelized aroma that’ll make you wonder if you’re in a tobacco shop or a bakery. It’s like taking a stroll through a Southern town where every street corner has its own homemade pie stand. The initial draw is smoother than at Sunday afternoon, with notes of coffee and chocolate that blend together like the best country duet you’ve ever heard. 

But don’t be fooled by her sweet start—Betty’s got a bit of kick, too. As you work your way down, there’s a peppery spice that sneaks up on you like the local gossip. Just when you think you’ve got her figured out, she throws a little something extra into the mix. It’s complex, but never overwhelming—kind of like your favorite Southern aunt who always has a new story to tell.

As you finish up, Betty leaves a lingering sweetness on your palate, like the memory of that first dance you’ll never forget. She’s a cigar that’s not just smoked, but experienced. Fat Bottom Betty isn’t for the faint of heart, but if you’ve got a taste for something bold with a bit of Southern flair, she’s worth every puff.

-MJHarvell