Sitting out in the side yard on a crisp Saturday evening, I found myself in the company of a Kiki Momo Gordo Designer 1. Now, let me tell you, this ain’t just any old cigar. This one has character, like that one uncle who shows up to every family reunion with a story that makes you laugh until your sides hurt, but also makes you think a little deeper about life.

When I lit up this Kiki Momo, the first puff had a kick, like being woken up by a rooster at 5:30 a.m. The flavor’s bold and doesn’t apologize for it. You get hit with a wallop of earthy leather and rich cocoa, which blends together like an old blues tune you can’t help but tap your foot to.

There’s something primal and raw in this cigar—a connection to the earth that speaks to you, whispering tales of tobacco leaves kissed by the sun and rolled by hands that know the true art of patience. With each draw, you feel closer to nature, like standing beneath a giant sequoia, humbled and small but strangely alive.

In the spirit of Mark Twain, I would probably call this cigar “a gentleman’s pleasure wrapped in a rogue’s rebellion.” The Kiki Momo has a sense of mischief in its construction, like it was made by someone who understands that life is short and should be savored slowly. The smoke is dense and satisfying, lingering in the air like the ghost of an old lover you ain’t quite gotten over yet. It’s got a balance to it, sharp, yet leaving room for a deeper bite.

A good cigar, like a good sermon, should warm the soul and inspire reflection. And this Kiki Momo does just that. As the ash grew longer and the burn stayed as steady as a Baptist preacher on a Sunday morning, I found myself pondering the finer things in life. This cigar took me on a journey—a slow, winding road filled with memories and musings, with no rush to reach the destination.

So, if you’re looking for a smoke that’ll make you feel a bit like a philosopher, a bit like a renegade, and a whole lot like a man enjoying life one good puff at a time, then the Kiki Momo Gordo Designer 1 is the ticket. Light one up, sit back, and let it tell you its story.

-MJHarvell

Jesus looked out at a crowd one day—folks tired, worn slap out, confused, and wandering around like a possum in a parking lot. And He said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into His harvest field.” (Matthew 9:37-38)

Now, I know a little bit about farming. My Grandpa taught me that when fruit’s hanging low on the vine, you don’t sit around and wait on somebody else to pick it—you grab a basket and get to work.

This world is full of folks who are bruised and battered, trying to fake it through another day. And if you’re breathing, friend, that means you’ve still got time to be a blessing. You don’t have to be a preacher or wear a suit—just love people like Jesus did. Smile at ‘em. Listen. Help carry a load. Point them to hope.

The harvest is ready. And if you’re waiting for someone to go, tag—you’re it.

Let’s be the answer to the prayer Jesus told us to pray. There’s work to do, and there’s still time to do it.

Growing up in the small town of Williamston South Carolina, spending a lot of time growing up in the county farmland of the Cheddar community and being the son of hard working small business owners, I was taught that real wealth doesn’t always look flashy—it grows slow, steady, and is rooted in discipline. It’s not about what you make; it’s about what you keep. And in many ways, that’s the heart of why tariffs—particularly the ones proposed under President Trump—make a whole lot of long-term sense for the average working American.

See, somewhere along the way, Americans got addicted to cheap. Cheap gadgets. Cheap labor. Cheap thrills. And while that might’ve looked good on a spreadsheet or at the checkout counter, it hollowed out our ability to produce, build, and sustain our own wealth at home. We outsourced jobs and insourced debt and the result is a very out of whack and unfair tariff system, where we are paying more than our fair share.

What tariffs do is bring the real cost back into the conversation. They say, “If you want access to our market, you’re going to play fair and pay your share.” That isn’t isolationism—that’s accountability and accountability leads to prosperity. We need to take the politics out of it. It’s not about being a Republican or Democrat, conservative or liberal, it’s about living in what I believe is one of the best places in the world to live – the good ole United States Of America.

Sometimes you gotta stop buyin’ biscuits from the place that quit makin’ ’em with real butter. Tariffs are about gettin’ back to real butter. Supporting the folks who plant, harvest, and grind the grain, not just the ones slappin’ a label on the bag. At some point, we have to make the tough decisions that level the playing field.

It’s not about hating other countries. It’s about loving our own people enough to say, “You matter. Your job matters. Your work is worth protecting.” Because when the backbone of a nation—its middle class—can thrive again, everything else starts to stand a little taller too.
And that, my friend, is how you build a country, not by buying cheaper but by investing smarter, deeper, and closer to home. Here’s an idea: If the other countries agreed, maybe we could just do away with tariffs altogether?

Now, I have never claimed to be the sharpest pencil in the pack, but I do think that my upbringing by and with hardworking men, women, boys and girls has provided me with some common sense and while I am not one for controversy and I’m sure this will cause some, but we can’t help but acknowledge that what we’ve been doing is not working.

-MJHarvell