From the hipster cigar-maker who brought you cigars that smell like urinal cakes:
The Lars Chronicles, Vol. 28
Lars battled his way through blinding snowstorms, howling winds, and an appalling lack of posse members. Many of his hangers-on had fallen to the brutal Tibetan winter, but Lars pushed on. Far from the warmth of Cuba, where Lars had learned the secrets to rolling the perfect cigar and had single-handedly created the cigar boom of the 1990's,
Tibet offered the promise of something else. something magical. As soon as he ascended the steep slopes and crossed the forbidden peaks, he would be among monks that had been hidden from the world for millennia, gaining new members only when a brave soul undertook the dangerous journey to find his spiritual home.
Lars was not looking for spiritual peace or salvation. He sought something far more important; he sought to save the world. The entire planet needed him, and only he could fathom the needs of common mortals. Lars alone understood that the world was dying, suffering from a chronic, deadly disease: bland food. He knew that the monks had the secrets of the universe, but more importantly, they grew spices that only they knew how to coax from the poor, cold soil during the brief summer months. Lars knew that getting these spices would enable him, the savior of the universe, to create a new culinary concoction that could save the world from its affliction. He could perfectly balance the spices to enhance the flavor of any dish.
Such a precious gift must have a name that embodied its life-giving properties. It came to Lars in a flash of brilliance as the wind ripped at his coat: Pimp Spices.