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Base Camp


We suffer from a perpetual shortage of awesome. There are only so many Shakespeares, Mozarts, Scorseses and DeBarges to go around. And yet our days are filled with all these endless empty hours that cry out to be filled with diversion. That's why I decided in my youth to embrace crap. Because crap is eternal. Crap is cheap. There is no shortage of crap.

I've spent much of my life in the pursuit of bigger and better crap. I am a crapoisseur. It seems a shame for me to allow my accumulated crap to simply putrefy, unshared. I have determined that I shall no longer hide my crap under a bushel. A wise man once said that if you love your crap, you have to set it free. That wise man was me.

Of course, I won't be writing about just any old crap. There are already plenty of places where the undiscerning garbage-monger can wallow in the popular sewage-sucking mainstream. No, I reserve my time for the crap that goes above and beyond the call of crap and plops down in a place of awful sublimity. To put it another way, my crap doesn't stink.




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