Breakfast in Catalonia/Spanish Robbin on a bike trip to Málaga

I'm usually not the one to easily fall for hyperbolic statements and dialectical traps of the like, but sometimes I wonder what would happen if Robbin grew just a tiny bit more wholesome than he already is, just a little lovelier. What would become of this world if we added some more sugar and spice to an already perfectly seasoned mix? Is there a possibility of that not turning out well? Would Earth implode? Would Robbin explode? Would we reach peak humanity and subsequently start dying on a massive scale? Can people ever be "too good"? Is "too good" too scary? Is everything that is worth doing worth overdoing? Isn't it obvious that it is? Why isn't it? When did having a pretty fucking well-rounded brain become so subversive? When did excellence turn poor and underground? When did Robbins stop being rulers? When did the best of us lose faith in the rest of us? Stop this life please, I'm getting off here.

All pictures taken between 11th and 12th of August 2017 around an average small town, the FGC and downtown Barcelona, Spain. Special thanks to Guillermous, and extra special thanks to Robbin for not only being an American communist, but also an example to our whole race. He also looks exactly like his mother and owns the most unreliable pink Japanese bike in the world, which just adds to his overall awesomeness. 

Shit on the hand that feeds you Teil Sieben

"Entonces claro, mi familia, al quedarnos sin la herencia del abuelo, pensábamos que íbamos a heredar un fortunón del copón, la verdad sea dicha, el abuelo no dejó un duro, deudas, y claro, a la familia no nos ha quedado otra alternativa en la vida más que practicar ese noble arte que practica el 99,9 % de la humanidad, que es EL TRABAJAR. El trabajar, ya saben ustedes, con todo lo que el trabajo conlleva: el trabajo dignifica al hombre, el trabajo te honra, el trabajo te realiza, el trabajo te pule, te abrillanta, te da espledorrr... ¡El trabajo es la hostia, el trabajo hasta te pone cachondo! Hay que ver lo cachonda que va la gente a trabajar a las 6, 7 y 8 de la mañana, todo el mundo cantando y bailando por la calle, "¡VAMOS A TRAAABAJAAAR, LA-LA-LA-LAAA!", "¿DÓNDE VAIS CON ESA MARCHA MATINERA?", "¡A TRAAABAAAJAAAAAARRR!". "¡¡¡¡¡¡No he podido dormir en toda la noche esperando éste momento de gloria!!!!!!". Y en los medios de transporte todo el mundo pegado, junto, porque se QUIEREN, SEÑORAS Y SEÑORES, algunos hasta van en caravana, "¡NOS QUEREEEMOS!", jaleando al conductor, pa' que llegue pronto, "PARA SER CONDUCTOR..." y el otro "CU-CU-CURRU-CU-CÚ". Semejante funcionamiento social, coño, vayan a la mierda con el trabajo, la dignidad, la realización, se lo metan todo en la punta del nabo, a ver si les cabe, ¡bimba!, les explote y le queden los huevos colgando en los campanarios, que vayan a engañar al coño de su abuela, el trabajo dignifica EL COÑO DE TU ABUELA, dignifica, mamón, con acento en la n, pa' joder. "Ganarás el pan con el sudor de tu frente", CON EL SUDOR DE TU POLLA, lo voy a ganar."

"Then, of course, my family, having been left without our grandfather's money, we thought we were going to inherit a helluva fortune, truth be told, granpa didn't leave us a dime, debts, and, of course, the family was left with no other alternative in life but that of practicing the fine art which is practiced by 99% of humanity: WORKING. Working, you know, with everything that working implicates: working dignifies men, working honours oneself, working fulfills oneself, working polishes, waxes, gives oneself splendourrr... Working is so sick man, working even turns me on! You see how hot and horny people are on their way to work at 6, 7 and 8 in the morning, everybody's singing and dancing in the street, "LET'S WORK BE PROUD STAND TALL TOUCH THE CLOUDS, LA-LA-LA-LAAA", "WHERE ARE YOU GUYS GOING WITH THAT EARLY MORNING SPREE?", "WE'RE GOING TO WORK WERK WERK WERK WERK WERK YOU SEE ME I BE WORK WORK WORK WERK WERK WERK". "I couldn't sleep all night waiting for this glorious moment!!!!!!". And in public transport everybody's glued to one another, all together now because they LOVE EACH OTHER, LADIES AND GENTS, some even join traffic jams, "WE LLLLLLOVE EACH OTHER!", cheering the driver so he hurries up, "IF YOU WANNA BE A GOOD DRIVER..." and the other goes "CU-CU-CURRU-CU-CU". What kind of a fucking shit social organization, get the fuck out with your work, your dignity, your self-fulfillment, stick it all up the tip of your cock, see if it fits, boom!, and explodes and leaves your balls hanging from the bell tower, go fool your grandma's cunt, working dignifies YOUR GRANDMA'S CUNT, sleazebag, SLIZEBAG, with an 'i', to bug you all. "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread", IN THE SWEAT OF THY DICK, I'll eat bread."

Speech by the late and great Pepe Rubianes, via La radio de La Casa.

All pictures taken on 12th March 2017 around S-Bahn (S11) and Hamburg Airport, Hamburg, Germany. Special thanks to Guillermous for getting us to the front row at Drake, to Valentina, to Robbin for thinking we're artistic terrorist for digging Drake and having his flight delayed and to Sahar for being the only crop one needs.

All Star Saharman & Robbin, the Boy Wonder

"It's funny because I met Sahar in this festival exactly one year ago. She was fighting with someone. That was my first impression of her."

"Robbin dice que se va a comer un huevo y que ahora viene."

The songs I like the most are the songs I listen to the least. The places I have ever felt happy at are the ones I would never dare going back to. The more I want to be with certain people, the less I will be. Their company is nothing but a constant reminder of the second they will come to an end, the moment I will have to leave, the day they will have to part. Everything about the sincere, exceptional light of their presence just brings me misery.

All pictures taken on 5th July 2016 at the Katze in Sternschanze, Hamburg, Germany.