They were somewhere in the pacific northwest when the drugs began to take hold. Bobby Pickles was the only one who refused to consume psilocybin mushrooms. But Badey and Stupid Martini took enough to kill a horse. Pickles was the designated driver, so he had to act responsibly. That's why he only agreed to consistently drink heavily from the keg they had purchased at Bridgeport Brewery in Portland, which was nestled securely in the back of the Chevy Suburban they had been upgraded to at the car rental agency. Pickles also agreed to partake in the pot. And, for the good part of a week, the three made their way to Cannon Beach, up to Seattle, across the border to Vancouver, and back again. All while ingesting magic mushrooms and craft beer and seedless sensimilla and anything else they could get their grubby little hands on, including pussy, which alluded nobody. There was an awful lot of frisbee playing, plus a hospital visit, but Consumptionism was born out there, somewhere along a two lane highway with oncoming logger truck traffic and way too much natural beauty. "Eat it. Drink it. Smoke it. Toke it. Snort it. Use it. Spend it. Waste it. Fuck it. Dump it in a nature preserve...Consumption!" became their mantra. And, armed with a clearer understanding of the American disposition, they founded a T-SHIT company based on certainmprinciples aimed at destroying the status quo.
FAT ENZO T-SHIrTS
"Made in a Sweatshop in the U.S.A."