The bum is awaking from a Schlitz slumber. A striped thermos stands upright. Last nights soup stains are dry. He clutches his walking stick. He will need it. Enemies have found him under this bridge before. “Look,” the bum says, staring at a dark corner of the underpass. The evil manifestations of his mind are out again. The bright yellow eyes of a magical wolf look down at him. Fangs are white and large. The bum lifts his stick that glows and sparkles as it morphs into a sorcerer’s baton. The psychic revolution has begun.
In much the same way, The Wizard Bums spawned from a psychic revolution. Formed by three hip-urban-dwellers living in N.Y., L.A. and Dallas, The Wizard Bums possess the power to cut through the shadowy cloak of modern society to shed light and truth. Join us as we discus sports, books, Hattrick, ninjas, art, pirates, politics, music and anything else we feel like writing about. But beware, the wolf’s stare is strong and sticks don’t always morph when needed.
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