“Where Is It?” — Why Nothing in This House Is Where I Left It
I've lost my keys, my wallet, my reading glasses and my will to live. She found all four in under a minute, without getting up.
Welcome to the Throne Room
Shirts, hats, mugs and bathroom reading for men who laugh at the wrong time and still say "pull my finger" at forty-seven. Ruled from a golden toilet by The Chief.
The Shop
Everything's printed to order, shipped to your door and guaranteed to make your mother-in-law sigh out loud. Wear it to the cookout. Drink from it in the meeting. Stick it on the toolbox. You know the drill. You own four of them.








Who's in charge here
A man in mirrored aviators, a salt-and-pepper goatee and a black tee, running an empire from a toilet he spray-painted gold. He's lost every argument with his wife, owns four tape measures he can't find, and has opinions about your thermostat. He's not here to fix you. He's here to roast you, and himself, with love.
Get to know the bastardPodcasts
Whenever The Chief grabs a mic, it lands here. No schedule. No filter. No refunds.
All episodesNo episodes yet. The Chief is "warming up the mic," which means he's in the bathroom.
The Blog
New posts every Wednesday and Sunday, written in one sitting. Sometimes two. Grills, garages, marriage, dad shit, work bullshit and the Man Rules. Pull up a seat. Your legs will fall asleep. Worth it.
I've lost my keys, my wallet, my reading glasses and my will to live. She found all four in under a minute, without getting up.
It's 68 degrees. It's always been 68 degrees. It will be 68 degrees until the day I die, and then you can set it wherever you want, you animals.
She's old. She's loud. She's the wrong color for any decade. And she's the most loyal companion a man has ever had.
The library had Plato. I have a dog-eared trivia book with a coffee stain on page 41, and I've learned more on the throne than I did in four years of school.
I came to buy milk. I left with a part-time job, a criminal record in the bagging area, and an unexpected item I still can't explain.
Nobody gave us a handbook, so I wrote one. On the throne. In one sitting. Okay, two sittings. It was a big handbook.
Carved in porcelain
Every project takes three trips to the hardware store. Two means you quit.
— The Chief, from the throne