Yes, no other gang has them and they are exclusive here. 
Just $5.95 per tail with your $2.75 Fake Eye-Patch. You'll really look groovey.
Available in small, medium and large or the one size fits all.
You'll be a hit and everybody will want one just to be like you.
I'm thinking of making a club or gang called the "Fake Eye-Patch" club. I actually like the Fake Eye-Patch Gang better than club. We would have a lot in common as we would have these eye-patches that we would wear whenever we wanted to belong to something bigger than ourselves. We could wear them to church.
Like when you get fired from your job or somebody hits your car in a parking lot and you just need somebody to put their arm around you give you a big hug and say, "I love your eye-patch. When did you lose your eye?" You could flip it up and say, "Gotcha." Then blink a few times and then ask them if they want to join the gang and tell them where to get or make their own eye-patch.
I'm going out right now and "tag" somebody's barn or fence or house. I'll use some secret phrase like, "one eyes blind" or "blind in one eye" or "still crazy with one eye." Look for it around the Valley. Let me know if you want to be a part of this gang. The dues will only be $2.75 per month for shipping and handling sending eye-patches out. It would be a little more if you want and eye-patch that you can see through. 
As a young boy of 7 or 8, I started one of my many careers. I became a bird whisperer. I taught our parakeet how to talk. I stood by his cage and "tamed" him down-I guess it was a him. The bird was named Pretty Boy and would sit on your shoulder all day and say stuff like, "pretty boy" or "Hello" or "Young lad, could you fetch me a cracker?" OK, that last one didn't really happen but I was working on something like it. I got my first job as a bird whisperer working with our neighbors bird. It was actually Keith Hill's grandmother Bee Hill who lived next door in Ogden. Her bird was a real bitch. It bit the hel.. out of my hand when I tried to teach it to sit on my finger. I stood by the cage for 2 days, saying, "Hello, hello." 
Kinda like talking into an old microphone looking for someone in outer space. I finally said to Mrs. Hill, "Either your bird is deaf or a real dumb as... but he can't be taught. I'd do everybody a favor and open the cage and let him go." She didn't seem please with my assessment but as a bird whisperer one can't be too honest. 
Anyway I became a mouse autopsy doctor until my best friend Johnny Thorsensen said, "This mouse won't be going to heaven now." I thought it was kinda like taking a picture of an african native. The camera steals their soul and as we all know, "no soul, no heaven." That career lasted about a day. By this time I was 3 days older than 7 or 8.
When we were moving back from California Linda's mother, Irene came down to help. Linda drove the car and Irene held Jamie who was very small and I drove the U-Haul truck. It was extrememly hot going into Baker, California and everyone was roasting. I was about an hour ahead of them. 
