welcome to the shiddy flea market. built overnight by the weary hands of lifetime alcoholics.  seemingly appearing when you least need it. and disappearing when you most. watch a prized hog get slaughtered to provide hope. or ride the gravitron to save your marriage. or eat a deep friend wine ball and hope the zipper evacuates a lifetime of regret into the mud where two people 69. our climax is seeing our reflection in the runny eggs at a dennys in northern indiana. exist to transact. create nothing. consume everything. 

county fair shiddy prizes

nothing beats the feeling of having your insides and memories slowly carried into the sky by the shit soaked wings of some shit birds. they gotta eat though. and you look like you could use an Extenze and a Papa Bowl too. how about 8 books for a moment of happiness amongst the miserable transactional state.

feed! the! fucking! birds!

What is the value?

Details