As I stand here at the crack of morning attempting to wring out this, this 1,492nd post on the All Hail The Black Market web project, I too could use a little bit of brain juice.
And by brain juice I mean a protein shake.
And by a protein shake I mean a can of cheap yellow beer.
First things first- One thing we here in this community have in common is a desire to help people where we can. I mean, it’s pretty clear that the government- You know- The people we’ve hired to lead the nation, can barely even pretend to give a shit about their constituents any longer. So we help out each other in spits and spurts and pay it forward where we have the ability to.
This leads me to the following Instagram clip that by this point, I’m sure most everyone under the sun has most likely seen;
Who is this guy? How is it that random business guy comes out of nowhere and busts out the most perfectly stalled street plant ever, and then pushes his loafers away into history?
It turns out his situation is far sadder, yet at the same time, more inspiring than one could ever imagine, as Jenkem Magazine tracked him down and presented his story like so;
I don’t have much money, as I effectively sell stickers with bad word on them for a living, but what extra I could scrape together I sent to Avery Baxter (Paypal- AveBax@gmail.com), because despite his life’s trials, his spirit is everything I could ever hope for mine to be.
For real, bless his heart.
And speaking of selling dollar stickers, I just got a whole array of them back in stock;
If you have a hankering for such a thing, I have all of these, as well as a whole bunch of other stuff right there in the Black Market market.
And because a couple of people have asked, the varying urls at the bottom of some of the stickers is due to the fact that I was making those particular decals long before this here website was even a twinkle in my eye. As a matter of fact, the DBRBGFYS sticker came about back in 2005 when I had an inkling to start a store attached to the art side of my existence.
Before long I realized I couldn’t very well monetize mediocrity, until 2009 when this train wreck grew wings, and I never got around to changing the decal’s fine print.
I have three new slogans in the hopper however, which will give me the opportunity to finally make the change to that one.
So there’s more information that you probably wanted.
I guess I should also take this opportunity to note that I also have these bad ass numbers on hand for anyone (like me) who maintains a constant love/hate affair with gravity;
I’d also like to mention that they were made for me by the wildly talented humans from Sticker Robot.
If you should have decal making needs, they don’t half step jack, and always come correct with the highest quality goods on the block.
Take a trip through their blog and gaze upon their merchandise and then tell me that I’m wrong.
I triple dog dare you.
Moving in to other matters, it would appear as though Danny Summerhill has questionable decision making abilities;
I’m not necessarily making a judgement on his decision to carry a gun, because in this day and age, and as much as I hate to say it, circumstances occasionally arise when one might need to defend one’s self. Personally, if I were to pack any heat at all, I might choose something like this;
That said, I also recognize that if one is going to carry a firearm, one have to be prepared to use it, though honestly, when I’m riding my bike, taking someone’s life has never once crossed my mind.
And knock on wood, in all of my years on a bike, I’ve never been in a situation when a firearm would have made anything better for anyone.
Moving on from topics that are entirely too debatable, I’ll turn to the mail bag with a short and sweet slice of love (who for the attentive among us effectively wrote this post), from homie Caro.
It would seem as though she’s been busy;
I can’t hold her absence against her. I just appreciate the contact, because she knows how I worry about her well being, which it seems is wholly intact.
And now, before we part ways with one another for a whole two days, I’ll leave you with one final item.
After picking up no fewer than twenty-five abandoned bags of dog crap on yesterday’s ride before finally riding through a pile, which then splattered up my right leg, Kurtz put proverbial pencil to proverbial paper, and honored me with an image in tribute to my martyrdom;
And he said unto His disciples, “take and eat a burrito, for this is my body. Take and drink cheap yellow beer, for this is my blood…”