Toxic Holocaust Ten fucking years of blood sweat and beers!

One day, when I was fourteen, I slapped six patches onto a cheap Kmart denim. Lo and behold, my first and main baby turns ten fucking years old today!

I have started quite a few kutten since, but it’s this one that started the labor of love and has clocked thousands of hours of work, thousands of dollars, hundreds of cigarettes and beers, hundreds of needlestick injuries, hundreds of shows, and thousands of memories. Patches have come from friends, foes, friends turned foes, and other interesting sources, making it a collaborative effort and a testament to my history. It has been washed once, 5 years into its life, to save it from decay. It has followed me across several interstate moves, several life stages, fights, parties, and innumerable irrelevant bullshit.

I don’t wear this one as much as I used to, nor do I work on it as much (look at it!), but this is a battle jacket in the truest sense, and fuck, I feel old now.

Complimentary red tint courtesy of several Gwar shows. Complimentary Don Vito courtesy of Don Vito.