The Pants That Launched A Thousand Ships

It comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me, that I wear tight pants. Who's to say why? Perhaps it was growing up in the punk scene. It could be that I like to be swaddled up like a baby, or a chihuahua. Maybe my uncle touched me. Whatever the case may be, this preference occasionally will raise the ire of a Bridge and Tunnel Bro type, visiting from the neighboring hellscapes of Alameda, or San Jose. I like to take these opportunities to drag these dialogues out for as long as possible, purely for my own entertainment and well being.

The following picture of myself and a friend was posted to Facebook on Thanksgiving. 


Those are some tight pants, bro! It should be noted the different directions of attire we decided to go in, meeting for Thanksgiving morning.

Is that a pocket watch? Hell yes, it is. I once fucked a girl so hard she gave me a pocket watch. No big deal.

In any case, this happened.

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At this point, I was curious who this wonderful gentleman was. It goes without saying that we are going to be inseparable from this moment forward. If you can't make out what his profile picture is, here is a larger version.


If that doesn't sell you, the only two bands he lists are The Green (a Hawaiian reggae band), and Dave Mathews Band. This guy has taste! Oh, and then there's this picture.  


Baller, yo! That's, like, $50! Do you know how many cups of coffee that would buy you?? Like, ten! Anyway, let's continue with the conversation.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Caleb Finch

Caleb Nathan Friedrich was born in a small coal mining town in northern Pennsylvania to his biological parents Gretchen and Ivan Friedrich. Being the Friedrich’s eleventh child, and seeing the steady decline of Ivan’s health, Caleb was dropped into the, then tumultuous, foster care system. When he turned sixteen he gathered what few items he had and set out to make his mark on the world. Forging false identification and assuming the surname Finch, he was able to talk his way into position for the world renowned San Francisco Inquisitor. He went on to become the newspaper’s longest running editor and chief, and has had many printed collections, including The Time I Spent and The View From the Engine Room. In 1943, Caleb passed away by succoming to his long and painful fight against Butt Aids. It is belived by some that his ghost still haunts different locations in San Francisco, and that it's sort of a dick.