RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Tuesday, April 22

PP: Part Twenty Three

I have apparently become a big fan of the godly front driver's side fender candid. This is our friend Bessie's late model inherited Benz, which she's converted to bio-diesel, except she's pregnant so she hates the smell of her car all the time since it smells like french fries. Her real name is Stephanie, but my middle kid just started calling her Bessie for no reason back when they hung together one day a week, and the name has apparently stuck. That makes me proud of my middle kid, only four years old but has already given someone a nickname that has replaced their real name.

Junk car matchings like this is why I want to build a custom junkyard. That shit just looks cool, sitting there turning to rust. Oddly enough, obviously there are environmental disasters attached to such a redneck feng shui project, but I was poking around inside the internetz the other night, and apparently there's the world's first environmental junkyard in northern Virginia, all indoors with all parts already removed. I imagine that shit is crazy expensive for used parts and crazy not as cool looking as a couple of tons of American metal and car machine eventually going back to nature in a slow and steady process that is uglier than fuck to ugly-souled individuals who like to make rules and regulations against people like me and the things we enjoy.

As you can see from this picture, our local county landfill has become more of a land-grow than landfill, but this is the truck they use to shuffle around dumpsters as they get filled and unfilled. I will be sad once they close this landfill, although last week when I went, it looked like they bought up some adjacent farmland and will continue to pile all our homegrown trash within a convenient distance of my home, so I don't have to sign up for trash service.

This old garage in Elkton had like five busted up Mustangs sitting beside it. This was my favorite since it's been stripped of windshield, tires, axles, doors, pretty much everything of worth; but apparently not everything, which is why it still sits there, frame flat on the grass, waiting for some greasemonkey vulture to come snake some more shit out of it's dying carcass.

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