Behind closed doors, in the underground subcultures of America, is where the real action is. The stuff on TV, the stuff everyone talks about at the water cooler is just boring pulp we consume to pass time before we get back to the stuff we really like underground and in private. Recently, I came across a catalog whose products fall deep into this realm of subculture: The Bud K Catalog.
Bud K’s is ostensibly a knife catalog but oh so much more. In it one can procure a replica 15th Century War Hammer, a Thompson Gun Desk Lighter or a Dragons Guardian Sward. Everything: the whole catalog, of course, made in China all for under $100. Taken as a whole their list of products form one large sub-culture: erotic knife collecting. But considered as individual items each product encompass a small part of another infinite sub-genre, of a sub-genre, upon a sub-genre from American Nazi weapon kits to Dungeon’s and Dragon’s fighting tools, to Southern Fried Military Regalia and on and on.
Bud K’s is based in Moultrie, GA, deep in the heart of the Christian South. One is often stuck by the fact that odd sub-cultures are most often most practiced by people we’d least expect: respectable Doctors stash kiddy porn, soccer mom’s love anime. etc. Here we have Bud K’s selling tools of death in raw form. You'd expect this in Fresno, deep in Meth-country, or in dirty-dirty New York, but no, this is curious placement indeed: Moultrie, Georgia. A contradiction and hypocrisy: America forming in its sleepy ‘burgs, ranting for Christ but never-ever acknowledging anything.
What is going on down at Bud K is an accelerated version of what we get everywhere. Bud K’s consumers are living out fantasies: offing sand niggers, turning Jeddah to a plate of glass, being strong and tough ass bikers, phony ninjas and play Nazis, time wasters in tin sub-genres of unreality and living on barrowed time and credit. Truth is hard; reality is hard. How much better to wave the confederate battle flag in concealed fencing rather than start fighting for real truth and admitting the leaders you have put so much faith in are housed on this hapless ship of fools?
Dream on Bud K’s customers, play your fantasy games: ride that Harley to South Dakota, slap a halter top on the miss’s, smoke those Winston’s, enjoy. Just remember what you did during these times as you look back far from now then look at yourself in the mirror, pecks atrophying, Tina’s boobs sagging? Then remember Free California.