Damn brother! I had to smash my mug up against the computer to screen to get a look at that pencil thin pimp stache on Jack Frost here.
Bob is a straight gangster at that. One time, I was in Cheyenne, Wyoming at the Triple Creek Ale House working a stint as a dish washer when Bob rolled up on fuck-all loud Harley. When some cycle club quiff stepped on his boots, he cranked him with a pool cue across the back of the neck. The club got quiet. We all waited for what was next. Bob went over to the jukebox and drop a quarter in. The place was so still, that coin hitting the machine was like a bomb going off. Several people commented that it was in poor taste to play his own song, but I was always a big "Isis" fan and didn't mind. In any event, leave Bob's boots untarnished.
THE WIND IT WAS OUTRAGIOUS!!!
J-STACHE
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