I can work on/repair basically anything old. Things from a certain period and back just make sense, plain and simple.

I can shave with a straight razor, operate an oil lamp (and I have several throughout my house,) hell, I’m a musician, and I recorded on tape until 2014, using clunky, old multitrack tape machines, which I can also repair and maintain. (I still dream of getting ahold of an 8-track reel machine, a Tascam 80-8 or especially a 388. They are stupid expensive if you can find a working one at all.)

I’m a pro musician. I was in a big rock band in the mid 2010s, and we were doing all kinds of cool shit. It imploded over stuff that didn’t really involve me, but following that, I went into a serious drunk-depression that lasted years and almost killed me.

I cleaned up, going on two years sober, have a new band together, and are about to open ourselves up to the world and start booking shows. It’ll be my first shows completely sober since like 2012. It’s terrifying, but I’m excited as hell.

Punk rock music has fallen by the wayside. Time to try and bring it back to life. 🤘

Do grits count? Grits with as close to an entire stick of hot butter as someone will let me have.

I definitely won’t complain if a millie chick finds me attractive.

I just wouldn’t look forward to all of the fights she’d get me into, drunkenly yelling at everyone “oi me fella’ll do yer wee knees in ya fockun tosser JOG ON!”

Pro musician here.

There are so many, but a hurdy gurdy has gotta be up there. Played by someone who knows more than the basics, it sounds like something a medieval king would demand played to relax.

(They’re also among the most expensive instruments out there, as the only makers today are extremely talented individual ones; no big company like Fender or anything makes them. If you see one, you know it was handmade by a master.)

I also love the sound of the Crwth. It’s from Wales, and is sort of like a regional spinoff/precursor to the violin.

This morning on my way to work. (Rural Ohio here.)

I’ll tell ya a better story. Years ago, my band at the time were on the road, heading to a show around Elkins, West Virginia. We were somewhere in the vicinity of St. Clairsville, OH, when at like 70mph, a giant locust flies in my drummer’s window. We thought it was a hummingbird at first, but the thing is panic-flying around, hitting us in the face, etc. I’m still amazed we didn’t wreck.