I have stories which make Jimmy Buffett seem sober, Keith Richards cringe and Hugh Hafner blush… (Well at least two of those are true) This is my homage to the crusty septgagrnarian and erstwhile Publisher and *cough “sexual liberator ?)”— I don’t look or read his magazine, nor say it’s name aloud, but I do admire his vast selection of smoking jackets. Sidenote: this is the last time my face with cleanly shaven at shan’t be again as I found it extremely uncomfortable. Further sidenote: Kenny Trobman vastly upstaged me with his Ron Jeremy costume that year at the east side tavern
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An eager archeologist prepares to untangle mysteries of Mesopotamia.
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DNA studies and archeological research attempt to describe what the young – almost forgotten – Pharaoh of Egypt looks like. But here is standing before you as Noble and straight as possible. Along with a scale, illuminated model of what Howard Carter saw when he cracked the seal with Lord Carnarvon’s backing
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It’s my turn in the hoosegow this time as i wear the distinctive hoops of a convict — a portent of things to come? Oh brother where art thou? Turns out he’s right next to me in the trailer as Dad, as a Coureur des bois, pedals us along in a parade in the quasi-Dutch town of Lynden Washington. Bikes provided by Cap’s Cyclery where uncle Mark toiled… occasionally we would get to venture down into the basement at the Sapperton store to see old man Cap’s collection of legendary junk
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Turns out the parade was a portent of things to come as I ventured out, moustachioed, into the wilds of Guilford complete with my inmate number for easy identification. We would rampage through Guilford mews using pillowcases instead of plastic sacks #ProTips This time it’s brother Dan as a clown, no tears for this one, and brother Bob with some inappropriate cultural appropriation which I won’t comment upon further.
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Oh those notorious Olson boys, always up to no good, they make the Duke boys look like saints. This time it’s Dan headed to the brig while I strike my best rockstar pose – indeed my true calling if it wasn’t those pesky musical instruments. My iteration was a mix of my uncle Randy Bachman and a bit of Elvis who had died on my recent seventh birthday. Hey glasses, big hair, bellbottoms with pom-poms and platform shoes… But oh that pose! Simply says, “I know you’re looking but I don’t care – i’m just here to rock”
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A hybrid of sorts, classic Canadian outdoorsman with his puffy trucker’s vest, Proto-hipster snapback hat, one of my dozens of “Run for Fun” champion T-shirts ( #HumbleBrag) and yet another fresh set of glasses. As usual, brother Bob is trying to get into my groove, but I’m patient and understanding.
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