That warning label makes it look like the glovebox in Tom’s caprice is filled with contraband. But what? Whiskey? Unpaid parking tickets? Drugs? Weapons of Mass Distraction**?
Personally, I like to imagine it’s filled with Ten Bullets patches.
There’s a myth in the Tom Sachs community that Ten Bullets patches can never be purchased, only earned. But that myth has been well and truly busted – these patches can be found on all sorts of things that are for sale: hats, exploding ponchos, fanny packs (or ‘bum bags’ if you’re from these parts).
However, once you start making friends within the community, something amazing happens. Nondescript letters from around the world start to arrive, with hushed notes inside: “Shhh, don’t let Tom see, but I made you a Ten Bullets patch.” Contraband patches. Made with love. From people you have never met.
I’d tag everyone who has made and sent me a contraband Ten Bullets patch, but I’m no snitch. Thank you. I love every single one.
** This distraction induced Freudian slip is even better than my original plans. It stays.
Photo: Tom Sachs
Originally written for the Sachsian Syndicate.
Previously: TGIM 11 - More laundry to fold. That never-ending pile of laundry. What the shit, old classical painters? Where are all the artworks of a beefy, half-naked Sisyphus carrying a laundry basket up a hill?
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