I am sore. Bits of me that I didn't even know I had are hurty today. Yes, I said "hurty". Hipsters will be using it in a year or two, mark my words. The irony event horizon is hurtling toward us faster than a single speed bicycle powered by the bottomless energy generated by thrift store purchases and morose journal entries.

We here at Gasoline Hobo know that you have many sources for hobo news, and we thank you for choosing Gasoline Hobo for all of your hobo news needs.

"This is the story of the Naked Hobo, made even more interesting because no one was naked and the person in question was not a hobo."
This is my kind of story. And yes, in case you're wondering, Gasoline Hobo will get naked at parties for a pretzel and a can of aquanet.

You know you're maybe getting a bit too much into the nooks and crannies of photography when you are annoyed by the overexposure of a tv show's opening credits montage.

That is all.

Except for a STERN demand that you visit both rekabek.com AND the 'Coon Cam, and excellent resource for all of your raccoon watching needs.

I work in a professional environment. The place is rife with khakis, fake plants, and a fuckload of binders. Our hiring standards are very high. It usually takes close to two months to complete the hiring process, and then we fingerprint you.

Some people are not using those fingers wisely. Namely, they are abusing the walls of the bathroom stalls. Observe:



Please note that a roll of toilet paper is literally 6 inches away. I simply do not understand.

There I was, in the supermarket. Innocent, carefree, and, dare I say, unaware. I may even have been whistling. I picked up bread, cheese, pasta, crackers. I rounded the corner into the cereal aisle. My cart squeaked and wobbled over the linoleum a like weeble being attacked by a bat. Then I saw Johnny Depp. On a cereal box. Dressed as a pirate.



See? There he is. I wasn't very clear on what "pirate-shaped marshmallows" were, though. I opened the box, and I'm still not sure.

(sorry)

I'm sitting here in my office, writing like a fiend with Thriller, Billie Jean, Chromeo, Hylozoists and some random Bjork songs on repeat. It's hot outside, but cool inside. I had a chimichanga for lunch, I have a full tank of gas, I'm writing better than I have in my life, and I got my Girl back. There's a cool fire in my veins, and it's giving me goosebumps.

Yeah, he was batshit loco, but Piper at The Gates of Dawn was fantastic, and without him, we'd never have had Dark Side of the Moon or The Wall. And that would have been a tragedy for stoners everywhere. He died today at age 60.

A friend of mine recently accused me of "tossing a narwhal's salad". Think about that for a moment. Even the logistics are amusing.

Anyway, here are some more photos, and a little Johnny Cash for you:


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Hi-Res
SUPER Hi-Res


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It's a gorgeous day, and I got to see the Best Trailer EVAR:



Yes folks, that appears to be a vintage '72 Datsun 510. Or rather, HALF of a '72 Datsun 510. Totally impractical. Totally stupid. Totally AWESOME.

Proof