Once again we visit the strange and cynical world of my friend and guitarist, Derrik. We've known each other through a mutual friend for 12 years, and he was in my last band and is in my current band.
And I STILL have no idea where he was when he took these. On a vacation? At a militia camp? A spiritual retreat? I don't have a clue. The kid is practically a mute. And I'm pretty sure he's making fun of me by sending me these. Some kind of inside joke that only he gets and snickers to himself when he thinks he's so damn clever.
Well buddy, I'll fix your wagon!!!!
No seriously, if your wagon is broken call me and we'll set up an appointment and I can look at it and give you an estimate. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a good wagon wheel repair shop these days.
Anyway, he found some Injun statue doing the GoM. That's pretty cool. I guess we owed them savages something after all that murdering and pillaging we did. Well, not ME, but other white people. I swear officer, I was just waiting in the car. I didn't even know what the settlers were going to do.
Pretty sweet deal getting a statue and some professional sports teams named after you for reparation. Plus it seems quite hip these day to be part Injun. I swear when the subject of ethnicity comes up it NEVER FAILS that one jerk has to make the comment that they are part Injun, like they are bragging. "I just happen to be 1/100th Cherokee you know." Yeah, and you're also 99/100ths total moron. If the natives got a nickel every time some douche bag made a remark like that they would never, ever run out of fire water again.
And this is a bonus photo of Derrik in the deep wilderness. He certainly looks like he's ready for a hike. Earthy-crunchy boots. Check. Drab clothing to blend into the brush so the search party never finds your body. Check. Backpack for water, sandwiches and existential books about God being an illusion and how humanity is so self-destructive. CHECK.
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