You’d need quite the humidor to store the cigars that long, haha! I had a Cuban cigar once and couldn’t tell the difference but I probably don’t have the palette.
I wonder what the recreational drug scene will be like including tobacco and alcohol products—if they’ll still be popular. Wine is a good pick. I always think of one of my favorite Columbo episodes that features and winery owner who likes buying old and rare wines.
Horse racing will probably be outlawed by then.
Signaling post-scarcity does seem like one of the most resilient stores of wealth unless we figure out wireheading right and remove the need.
Yeah I know absolutely nothing about cigars! You may well be right about horses, I’m just trying to think about rich-guy leisure activities. In a world of no work and a perfectly engineered environment, I imagine we’ll be doing a lot of sitting around, and God knows we’ll still care about status. Even if new printed wine or whisky is better, you’ll get a ton of credit for busting the old bottle out—it was never really about taste anyways.
You’d need quite the humidor to store the cigars that long, haha! I had a Cuban cigar once and couldn’t tell the difference but I probably don’t have the palette.
I wonder what the recreational drug scene will be like including tobacco and alcohol products—if they’ll still be popular. Wine is a good pick. I always think of one of my favorite Columbo episodes that features and winery owner who likes buying old and rare wines.
Horse racing will probably be outlawed by then.
Signaling post-scarcity does seem like one of the most resilient stores of wealth unless we figure out wireheading right and remove the need.
Yeah I know absolutely nothing about cigars! You may well be right about horses, I’m just trying to think about rich-guy leisure activities. In a world of no work and a perfectly engineered environment, I imagine we’ll be doing a lot of sitting around, and God knows we’ll still care about status. Even if new printed wine or whisky is better, you’ll get a ton of credit for busting the old bottle out—it was never really about taste anyways.