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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Type: Archival Photo Print*
Size: 12 inches by 12 inches (30.48cm x 30.48cm)
Material: E-Surface
People of Earth! Have no fear. I am Pizza Bear of New Bear City. I come in peace…and in 30 minutes or less, or it’s free! I am here to tell you my story, just one in a city of millions, in a Universe of trillions. At a young age, I was orphaned when my parents died in a car crash. A semi-truck filled with marmalade t-boned a truck full of honey, and the rest was crystallized. The courts deemed my Uncle, a degenerate gambler with a heart of gold, as the only bear fit to watch over me. I loved my Uncle. He used to take me to the crab races and taught me how to play three-card grizzly. But, in the City that never hibernates, it’s not enough to just hustle; you have to beg, borrow, and steal. Which also happened to be the name of the pawn shop he owned. Was his business predatory? Yes. Was his heart in the right place? No! But the neighborhood depended on him, and so did I. We lived in a basement apartment below the Shop, and he let me have the first pick of anything that nobody claimed after 30 to 60 days. A rusted bass, a guitar with five strings, my trusty keyboard, Mr. Plinky; they became my only friends and my roommates on lonely nights. Because, honestly, I had no friends. But now, by law, you all have to be my friends, but we can negotiate that later. I made music at night and worked at Chianello’s Pizza during the day, wearing this ridiculous pizza costume, passing out flyers, and delivering hot-and-ready orders on my bike, at the speed we bears are known for. Everything seemed to be going good; I had foldin’ money in my pocket and beats in my brain, but my Uncle…bear, my Uncle was in it bad. He owed money to gangsters, pimps, the electric company, and everyone in between. I tried to give him my paycheck, told him to take my tips, but he insisted he had gotten himself into this mess and only he could get himself out. He went out one night to get a Boysenberry soda at the corner store. Said he’d be back in five minutes; that he’d bring me a Honeycomb Explosion Bar, my favorite. But…he never came home. My Uncle always believed in me, and I, today, right now, believe in all of you. 30 Minutes or Less is a journey through the beats that have shaped my life, with the instruments that I still count on to this day. From the blistering heat of pizza and breadsticks to keeping bears off of drugs and on beat, I have played dives and dumpsters, arenas and starships, but I will never forget where I came from. This album is for New Bear City; for all the cubs out there who have given up on hope, who have looked down the alley and wondered not if they will be there, but when. Pizza is a gateway to community and happiness; so let’s rally around it, a pocket full of quarters for the arcade jingling and waiting to be spent. I am still the bear that lives in a basement apartment. I never left the city, and the city never left me. This music is a testament to the only home I've ever known. Bass, guitar, drums, keyboard, the freshest of ingredients, and the tastiest of tunes. I hope you enjoy my roots on 30 Minutes or Less, if you don't know me by now, then you'll certainly know me once you've had a bite. Stay tasty out there.
*All prints are made to order and shipped directly to you! This is not a real vinyl album.
Type: Archival Photo Print*
Size: 12 inches by 12 inches (30.48cm x 30.48cm)
Material: E-Surface
People of Earth! Have no fear. I am Pizza Bear of New Bear City. I come in peace…and in 30 minutes or less, or it’s free! I am here to tell you my story, just one in a city of millions, in a Universe of trillions. At a young age, I was orphaned when my parents died in a car crash. A semi-truck filled with marmalade t-boned a truck full of honey, and the rest was crystallized. The courts deemed my Uncle, a degenerate gambler with a heart of gold, as the only bear fit to watch over me. I loved my Uncle. He used to take me to the crab races and taught me how to play three-card grizzly. But, in the City that never hibernates, it’s not enough to just hustle; you have to beg, borrow, and steal. Which also happened to be the name of the pawn shop he owned. Was his business predatory? Yes. Was his heart in the right place? No! But the neighborhood depended on him, and so did I. We lived in a basement apartment below the Shop, and he let me have the first pick of anything that nobody claimed after 30 to 60 days. A rusted bass, a guitar with five strings, my trusty keyboard, Mr. Plinky; they became my only friends and my roommates on lonely nights. Because, honestly, I had no friends. But now, by law, you all have to be my friends, but we can negotiate that later. I made music at night and worked at Chianello’s Pizza during the day, wearing this ridiculous pizza costume, passing out flyers, and delivering hot-and-ready orders on my bike, at the speed we bears are known for. Everything seemed to be going good; I had foldin’ money in my pocket and beats in my brain, but my Uncle…bear, my Uncle was in it bad. He owed money to gangsters, pimps, the electric company, and everyone in between. I tried to give him my paycheck, told him to take my tips, but he insisted he had gotten himself into this mess and only he could get himself out. He went out one night to get a Boysenberry soda at the corner store. Said he’d be back in five minutes; that he’d bring me a Honeycomb Explosion Bar, my favorite. But…he never came home. My Uncle always believed in me, and I, today, right now, believe in all of you. 30 Minutes or Less is a journey through the beats that have shaped my life, with the instruments that I still count on to this day. From the blistering heat of pizza and breadsticks to keeping bears off of drugs and on beat, I have played dives and dumpsters, arenas and starships, but I will never forget where I came from. This album is for New Bear City; for all the cubs out there who have given up on hope, who have looked down the alley and wondered not if they will be there, but when. Pizza is a gateway to community and happiness; so let’s rally around it, a pocket full of quarters for the arcade jingling and waiting to be spent. I am still the bear that lives in a basement apartment. I never left the city, and the city never left me. This music is a testament to the only home I've ever known. Bass, guitar, drums, keyboard, the freshest of ingredients, and the tastiest of tunes. I hope you enjoy my roots on 30 Minutes or Less, if you don't know me by now, then you'll certainly know me once you've had a bite. Stay tasty out there.
*All prints are made to order and shipped directly to you! This is not a real vinyl album.
