Bar napkin drawings, an ongoing journey

There’s nothing like getting involved in an intense conversation and you and your fellow conversator get to the point where words do you no good.  Frances Bacon or art school deadbeat-do-nothing-wrap-myself-in-foil-and-spend-all-daddy’s-money-calling-it-art,  we have all faced a moment, usually in a bar, where pen meets napkin and outside of the context of the conversation come some of the most baffling, nonsensical pieces of work since Chris Angel.

From here on out I plan to document these pieces of the body politic creative juices.  Some will be from my own interactions, but I think the real fun will come when people, you people, you silly, retarded little monkeys, send me napkins from your own conversations ad I can analyze, judge and posit what I feel the drawings represent.

I snagged this beaut last night will catching up with a friend, you be the judge and let me know what you think.  Evidence A, below:

Why can’t indie rock be more like gangster rap sometimes?

Imagine if Jim James was constantly updating his blog slaying haterz and wannabe  biters?  He could be like “Y’all know I’ll bust a bourbon bottle over your head, why do all you Fleet Foxes have to be riding my style soooooo hard.  The first time I heard y’alls album I thought it was the twilight zone minute and I was listening to my band and me sing songs we hadn’t written yet.  Now that’s some straight trippy shit I have a hard time understanding, so I’m going to take that as disrespect.”

It’s a great album the Fleet Foxes put out, but shame on those producers for using virtually every component of what makes the MMJ sound so perfect and painting it on these sly Foxes.

Back to gangster rap Jim James…”I will go country-scary on every last one of you.  Do you know what it’s like to wake up on your bus with a long 12-gauge about to pick your nose?  I’m not playing, quit biting, quit biting, quit biting.  I said it three times so it gets through your stupid-ass heads.  Check that or catch wreck.  I will chicken fry your whole world and leave it for a nasty possum to nibble on all slow and demented.”

But no, everyone is going to keep on wearing flannel, facial hair, speak quietly and carry on.  Haterz.

Power up your radness meter naturally with a ProBar

There’s always that point in the day on the mountain, the beach, the trail, under the waterfall, or standing in the middle of the energy vortex when you think “time to power up the radness meter and get some good food fuel in me.” You go digging through your pocket or into your pack and take out energy bar X and maybe you decide to look at the list of ingredients. Most energy bars out there have ingredient lists a mile long and contain cryptic ingredients involving syrups and pastes that don’t make the old brain noodle think “wholeseome goodness.”

Enter Art Eggertsen, a former Snowbird mountain natural foods chef and core snowboarder. After reliving the above scenario one too many times Art decided to raise the proverbial bar [winkwink] and come up with an all natural, whole food, energy-rich alternative. Today ProBar stands out not only as a delicious treat and meal replacement, but as the burliest bar on the market. In a ProBar you’ll find whole oats, fruits and lots of the world’s Superfoods wrapped together in styles like Koka-Moka, Superfood Slam, and Whole Berry Blast. The bars are all 100% vegan in case you’re curious or, well vegan and the company is run by Art who has dedicated his life towards spreading the word about the importance of whole foods and nutrition. This is a grassroots product that has taken off since it’s arrival back in 2001 and today Art and co. are doing everything possible to keep up with the overwhelming demand. Definitely visit the webaite to learn more about Art and his history, very intriguing and dedicated guy.
Burlytown only endorses what is good for the community and as The Mayor I stand before everyone and declare ProBar the official bar of our fair place. Eat up and seek adventure!

Let the seasons begin

A couple days ago, while meandering through the mustard blossoms that comes alive in our area during the winter months, I was reminded of a funny ritual where men in their suit jackets and top hats somewhere back east like to pull a groundhog out of his slumber in front of a large crowd of people.  They do this, holding him up, exposing his loins to cameras and the crisp clap of winter air to see if his shadow is cast, therefore declaring an early spring.

I found this amusing in a quaint manner while the sun beat down on my face warming my brow.  Within this magnificent world we reside, thriving with color, scent and texture, we endorse the confinements of the seasons to days and months.  If we are to live like the sun and rivers that truly etch the shape of the world, how can we follow such meager definitions of the seasons.  Let the winter of introspective reflection and the spring blossom of fair love of be one within us all at once.  To live like rich Kings, we must know the taste of dirt like th earthworm.

I rejoiced in this cool breeze of thought and headed through the greens with their yellow-burst top, laying my hands out to feel their bristly golden hue.  Each one a world unto itself.

~The Mayor