There’s a bar in my hometown called the Meet Rack owned by a man who calls himself God. These are the keychains he gives out. If you want a more permanent reminder of your time spent in the Meet Rack, God will strap you down to a table in the back of the bar and, with a small cattle brand, singe into your skin a little image of his face, which ends up looking more like a cigar burn than a visage. The brandee is thereafter allowed $2 off drinks at the Meet Rack forever.

12:15 pm  •  2 December 2012  •  81 notes