What else is there to say?
I'm lucky enough to hang out with a Texas sculptor who talks like a pirate when he wants to talk like a pirate.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the one and only Mik Miano is in town!
Some of you have seen the bumper on the back of my '81 Toyota wagon. That is the work of Mik and his son, Zack (Zach?).
Mik is visiting from Houston and we went down to see Fred Friction administer longnecks from behind his altar at the newly reopened chapel named Fred's Six Feet Under, which is a cozy basement grotto underneath Iron Barley down near the corner of Virginia and Bates...and then we went to Mangia Italiano and the City Diner, of course.
That's what happens quite a lot when we're haunting the streets of St. Louis together: Irish Whiskey and another beer.
"Yes indeed, I think I will!" Mik said.
This image is worth a thousand slurred words, I do believe. Perched on Mik's lap oh so perilously is the puppet that I am sitting until Lindy comes back someday to reclaim it. I suspect that the puppet will pop up in many other pictures.
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