Oh come "the fuck" on with this shit.
How you gonna try make some pajamas you saw on an episode of Deadwood look cool cuz?
You are playing a game of King Asshole Chess and this is fucking checkmate.
Why do you look so forlorn Jonas? Did you misplace your ivory scrimshaw shave foam brush kit? Is your unicycle tire flat and you are now going to be forced to use a form of "modern" transport to get to your cobbler job today?
Shit is rough man. That's how it goes though.
Well, on the brighter side you do have a sick drift wood x sand rock frame to pose in front of while you contemplate how scathing of a review you're going to type on the new Justice' album. Which of course you will post in the comments section of Pitchfork's review of said album. Because let's be real blood, you know what's really good with shit.
If that doesn't get you excited I'm sure the prospect of quitting your job at a sub-luxury cobbling boutique to start your own hand-made pan mining outfitters boutique will keep you stoked in between tweets of Tom Waits lyrics.
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