So here he is. My unofficial mascot, friend, and partner in crime…The Reverend Owl Sharpton.
Owl and I go back some deal of time. We crossed paths one fair Fall evening in Bozeman proper. See the cottonwoods dropping leaves a yellow; smell the crispening air. See me cutting a wide swath through a back yard; smell the flat Rainier spilling from my bottle. Now you’re getting there. I may or may not have had both shoes on. Anyhow, one misdemeanor later and this badass and I have been teaming up and hitting the roads with heads of steam since ’02. And ‘0 the memories…Butte America, Glendo, Vegas, Havasu, Chicago and every burg betwixt have experienced our shenanigans. I do not know if the Reverend is in fact Irish, and frankly I am somewhat afraid to ask. I do know he got the hat from a motorized yard flamingo…that much is certain. Check the gallery for a few of his documented outings. Not only is the son of a bitch wise, but he is elusive to boot. Now feed that pheasant.