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Dazed & Confused Japan

Me and my boy Shan Daddy Poo Bear a.k.a. Asian Gosling a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite Tweeter were talking about the extreme avant gardists last night, and he raised a fantastic point: where the fuck do people like this live?  He didn’t ask this in a literal sense (I don’t think he particularly cares where Noob Saibot over here lives), nor was he being rhetorical.  

His question actually lies somewhere between those two extremes on the spectrum of inquiry.  Simply put: dude ain’t bout that life.  If clothes are a projection of one’s self, motherfucker would be living on Snake Mountain with Skeletor, coming up with all sorts of ill plans to take over Castle Grayskull, cruising around Eternia in the Fright Fighter.  But instead he’s living in a shitty semi-attached in West Bumblefuck with a lawn so fucked up it looks like every dog in the neighborhood congregated there to take one massive, simultaneous shit, whipping around in an ‘87 Honda with 400,000 miles on it.