AM 1330 Radio Mind

When I was eight I decided I didn’t like my mom’s cooking. Instead of force-feeding me or pleading to my juvenile sensibilities she simply said, “Fine. Starve.” For the next three days I was left to fend for myself. This Lord of The Flies moment was immediately followed by ten years of eating whatever my mother put on my plate and keeping my Yap shut during dinner.

Lately I’ve decided that I don’t like what I’m hearing on the radio. This epiphany was spawned by the mind numbing lifetime I spent driving across S. Dakota last week. During that drive I had time to think about what I’d like in a radio station if there were no rules, or lawyers impeding the ju-ju. One week later,via the miracles of modern technology, I have my own AM station. I may be back listening to the bland goo on the FM by weeks end but for now I’m dead set on surviving on my own dog food.

We’ll be streaming all twelve continuous hours of it on our website as soon as our IT guy gets back from squatting for tickets outside the new Hobbit movie, but in the meantime here’s a sample. My apologies to the FCC in advance. I know not what I do.


Horses Cut Shop
Department of Communications

Opening Salvo


If you’ve found yourself here, reading this, you are either a lazy lawyer digging for scraps , or one of the curious wondering what’s with the mayhem and taxidermy parade at Treasure & Bond in New York City. Regardless of which camp you belong to, there is something here for you so hold tight. Be patient.

First the FAQs:

We are Horses Cut Shop. A loose band of Genuine American Riffraff dedicated to the resurrection of old and the celebration of whiskey, gas, mayhem and the dangerous machine. We curate experiences. We tell stories. We throw firecrackers from moving cars in winter.

We create immersive experiences and sell marks on t-shirts and goods from righteous American mammals who love what they do as much as we do. We bring their stories to the world and kick back some scratch to them which each sale. We make a great shirt. You get a great shirt. The business who’s mark you wear get’s a cut. Everyone wins.*

We scour the country in search of the next great mark and maker. We talk to people and they tell us stories about the place they frequented or the great one they passed by. Our secret lies in choosing our marks based on a complicated formula that includes eye contact, honesty, love and our word. All the rest is just details as once inside this family of RiffRaff we are bonded for life.

Because local heroes matter. People who make things with soul matter. People who build community matter. These places, these bars and taverns, bait shops and tattoo parlors, crab shacks and coffee houses, they make up the American tapestry and map to our personal geographies.  They are a brick and motor reminder that no amount of technology or gloss will supplant our human need to connect with each other. These people we honor and celebrate do this on a daily basis for the good of our collective order. There is a reason why some places last, why some endure against odds and trends, gentrification and life changes. That reason for being exists in all of us, but in some it burns hot like fire.

End of Sermon
Today we launch our assault on the commonplace with a beachhead constructed here, at Treasure & Bond in lower Manhattan. We’ll be here through Christmas or as long as they’ll have us. After that, we’ll be somewhere. You can count on it. Until next time. Be well and remember, if anyone asks where you heard this rabble, you didn’t hear it here.

Rightly so,

Horses Cut Shop
Office of the Registrar

*except the French