The artist Tim Davis needs 1,000 copies of Bob Dylan's Self Portrait LP. Tim is interested in using the cover--not the record--for a sculpture project. The record jacket can be in any condition. If you see any copies of this LP in your local thrift store or dime bin (there's plenty of them because this record is pretty horrible), please buy them and send them to Tim. He is willing to pay up to $10/copy.

There are so many great things to say about Tim that also happen to be relevant to the people who are reading this. I know Tim won't say it, so allow me to make a few points:

1. Tim's father released a private folk LP in the '70s. Quite good, although Tim suggested I "not mention" it to pops at his wedding as dad is slightly embarassed by the album. Still, red-faced or not, it's good. (This could be your opportunity to get in good favor with Tim and perhaps secure a copy of this historic document for yourself.) 2. On the corkboard in my office is photographic evidence of serious humor. Rational Lampoon type serious. Some year ago Tim and his wife took my beautiful wife out for a day of fun in the sun. The police, who detest anything related to fun or sun, pulled Tim over. Immediately and without thought of consequence--knowing he was an upright citizen--Tim put "Fuck The Police" on the car stereo and turned that shit up. The cop didn't find the humor in the serenade (cops are genetically incapable of such things), and trumped up a reason to arrest Tim. The above photo is a postcard that Tim's wife sent to our house, memorializing the day intended for summer sun and fun that turned to protest. You can see Tim cuffed in the backseat of the cruiser, in his swim suit, smiling, resisting. Viva La Sunshine! Revolución! BENEATH THE PAVEMENT LIES THE BEACH! 2.5. Also on the office corkboard (just above the "I think I'd like gangsta rap more if it wasn't about killing people like me" postcard) is the best Christmas card I've ever received. It's from Tim. It rivals, and probably wins, the card I sent out a few years ago (not to toot my own horn, but it was pretty funny) that featured a picture of me in front of the Church of Satan giving the double devil horn, tongue extended, with a "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!" salutation. Tim's Christmas card has both more subtlety and proves to be more unsettling (how can something be utterly understated and totally unsettling at the same time?). It is a snapshot of an industrial roadside sign with those gas station letters spelling: MAY ALL OF LIFES TREASURES BE BLESSED UPON YOU THIS CHRISTMAS. The sign is surrounded by a 6-foot barbed wire-topped fence in the most depressing of industrial landscapes. (What the fuck does this have to do with a Bob Dylan LP you ask? It is indicative of the unique way in which Tim views life. More on this later.) 3. Tim took one for the team when he was pounced upon by the fascist beast The RIAA. Tim was slapped with a lawsuit for downloading calypso songs. Along with a grandmother and a teenage boy, Tim was declared by the beast to be EVIL and WRONG and the beast demanded he pay. Tim, ever-outspoken, was a voice for all of us who enjoy trading music with our friends, and stood up to the fascists, declaring them ridiculous. Tim won (if you consider being "made example of" by having a bigger fine--the biggest of it's time--levied against you "winning") and we threw a huge FREE TIMMY rally, celebrating art and freedom and music. Tim Davis: a slight balding man that's not afraid to stand up against the evil fascist beasts in the name of crippled grandmothers and zit-faced teenage boys. Tim Davis: a short dude, but twice the size of DJ Drama with Lars Ulrich on his shoulders! Tim Davis, Motherfucker! (That's "TIMMY" to you, fascists!) 4. Tim's book, My Life in Politics, spends more time open than it does gathering dust on our bookshelf. Tim's exhibit of photographs, under the same name, from some years ago was a collection of images that both depressed and inspired me. His photographs are subtly cynical glances at American absurdity. His eyesight is unique. This book and the photographs are engaging. 5. Finally, Tim is what I consider the Perfect Record Collector. Not perfect in that he can rival someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of all-things record-related. Not perfect in that he can "drop knowledge" on every trendy genre in collector cirlces. Not perfect in extreme numbers warehoused in his collection. Tim Davis is the Perfect Record Collector in that he dismisses the irrelevant things about record collecting, those things that obfuscate, and goes right to the content and conviction in the music. Perfect because he doesn't give me a bunch of bullshit disguised as truth. Perfect in that he doesn't obey faddishness. Perfect in that he sings along loudly to Spike Jones. As loud as he sings along to Shooby Taylor and NWA and the Persuasions. Perfect in that he's memorized entire sides of Firesign Theatre albums. That is, perfect because he can see the humor in things. Like creating a collage of every available version of "My Funny Valentine," stringing only the moments where the singer sings "unphotographable" together to use as a soundtrack for a slide show presentation for his photography students. And Tim is generous. He's given me records--expensive records, rare records, ridiculous records, completely rinked records--because he thought I might like them. "Here, I thought you might like this."

Tim Davis: A man of the people. A symbol of freedom and free expression. A conspirator in the Great Lampooning of everyday life. A man who invites you to see Chris Marker films. A man who's not afraid to straight up shush a douchebag during a silent film. A man willing to go to jail to prove that sunshine is worth it! A man with eyes unlike yours or mine, even if at first you don't see it. A man whose wisdom is mistook for childishness.

It's not often I wish I were rich, cause I think rich people are pretty weird, but I wish I were rich now. Then I could buy a thousand copies of Bob Dylan's Self Portrait LP, whatever the cost, and have them shipped to Tim's studio. I have no idea what he intends to make with these records, but I am trying to help collect copies because I think whatever the end result is, it will be a work of art.

If you've read this far, and you are a part of this "series of tubes" that connects us together, I plead with you to help Tim. Please, if you'll help Tim, whether you know him or not, then I will help you in any way I can.

--Bambouche of the Vanguard Squad

Strike a blow to the fascists.
Send Tim a few copies of Bob Dylan's Self Portrait.