BALONEY TIME, April 1 - After a computer virus sent my personal files all over the globe ten years ago, I do all my work on an offline Dell 2400. The 200 GB hard drive - a luxury when I got it - chugs away like an espresso machine. Occasionally I take little excursions through its vast and unordered files to see what kind of weird shit I accumulated during the aughties.
I designed a website for my pal Anthony a long time ago. It didn't really do anything except pop up links to the Cro-Mags site, and eventually the domain expired. D'oh.
A few years ago, I and Tara and Justin and Sarah all went to the Renaissance Fair in Irwindale. The ladies had full 17th century costumes ready to go (what woman doesn't?), but Justin and I didn't have anything from that time period. I salvaged a few pieces from my old Uncle Sam outfit and found a furry camera bag for a hat. Justin apparently murdered a hippie drifter for his duds. At the Faire, we encountered a surprising amount of animosity, with several blacksmithees and pizza booth wenches calling us "jam band guys". I have never seen so much sunburned back-cleavage as I have in that one day.
Early man. I always keep one of these on hand for a few yukks. No matter how bad things get, I'll never be as stupid as this guy. What a bozo!
Only photo from the old fridge. We had 200 of these little portraits up there. It was impressive. Moral: always document your refrigerator.
Found this near my car in 2003(?). If I'd still been living in Jersey City, I would've assumed a Santeria curse had been placed on me. Out here, it just means someone's crummy band didn't work out, and they probably had a meltdown after a bad practice or show and threw this out the car window while driving to a strip bar.
I don't know what this fellow is doing in my computer. Shoo!