Blowing Smoke  As a member of one of the country's most reviled
and put-upon minority groups, it's time I took a stand. Cigar
aficionados, unite!  WHEN MY EDITOR SUGGESTED that I write an
entire column on the subject of cigars, I thought it was a
remarkably ill-advised idea. Few people in this world like
cigars, and fewer still like the people who smoke them. Most men
wouldn't touch a cigar with a barge pole (notwithstanding the
fact that some cigars today are almost the size of a barge
pole). The vast majority of women despise cigars more than they
hate cockroaches. And children, of course, are the worst of all,
waving their precious little hands in front of their precious
little noses in supermarkets at the mere sight of even an unlit
cigar. This never fails to irritate the Kinkster. Sometimes I'd
like to poke them in the ribs with a barge pole.  Yet that is
exactly why I decided to write this column. I see it as an
educational service for the pompous, politically correct,
humorless, constipated spiritual b