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”
I ventured out, moustachioed, into the wilds of Guilford complete with my inmate number for easy identification.
Along with brother Dan as a clown, no tears for this one, and brother Bob with some inappropriate cultural appropriation upon which I won’t comment upon further, we would rampage through Guilford Mews condos using pillowcases instead of plastic sacks to collect the trick or treat bounty.
Surrey, circa 1976?
Two bearded distinguished gentleman discussing how Ernest Hemingway is vastly overrated.
note: this costume was on deck a couple years ago, but life got weird for me, but in that moment of sadness, I realized I didn’t need to dress up as the most interesting man in the world as i’ve met at least a dozen people as interesting as this fictional dude.
“Dr.” Hunter S. Thompson as depicted, required the commitment to shaving a cul-de-sac through my lock.
The party attended was appropriately at the Police Museum (with a DJ dressed as TennWolf), where i pose in front of exhibit of seized drugs in an attempt at method acting, circa 2010(?).
Note: authentic media pass. in which the goodly “doctor” is still resplendent with his mane intact.
Resistance fighters narrowly escape their own subterfuge (w/ Kris Krüg) possibly somewhere near Flanders or Wallonia, circa 1942 (or Pasley Island, 2014)