Arrrrrrrrr! Billy! Look to the western horizon! See there! A glorious stag! Wait, how's that? Wh....Oooooh I see him now! Majestic! Aye, Bobby! Silhouetted against the fading crimson light, crepuscular and regal, a beast the likes of which thine eyes have ever partaken! Now to fell the stag and set about murdering yonder upstream sportsman!
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Nothing Left To Believe In, Part 1: Russell Moccasin
You do not want to walk a mile in my shoes. A few years back I saw Uncle Rick wearing a handsome pair of camp mocs. I said, "Hot damn. What a fine pair of camp mocs. Russells, right?" "Afraid not, dear nephew," said Rick. "Russell isn't what it used to be. These are L.L. … Continue reading Nothing Left To Believe In, Part 1: Russell Moccasin
THE OWL HEAD SHOE HORN 