Mailmanbro: The Spring Indulgence Edition – In Summer!


Lo, Mailmanbro rides again for the first time, for the last time!

Now that Richter has become busy telling Greenlandish bands that, due to no other reason than their geological position, their art should be an expression of his sentiment of their location, or else bickering that no new metal of worth is being released. And Jimmy McNulty appears to have been transferred to another division for good, it seemed that all hope was lost to have our capitalistic, self-indulgent, circle jerk to continue. But luckily, I managed to slip Mrs. Mailmanbro a couple o’ hundreds and in return, received a few discreet pictures of the contents of Mr. Bro’s sacks.


I don’t know what half of these are, and I don’t care because now I can’t stop having visions of Old Tobyas dancing in the streets and I don’t like it.


That’s what I would call a cubic buttloads of books. Someone’s got a little man-crush on Michael Morecock. At least he’s got that creepily staring kiddo on U2’s War to remind him of real life’s troubles and keep him completely losing himself east of sun.



I knew KISS fans were gross, but nuking the Wales? That’s racist.


Hans is really close to having a good haul. Close, but no cigar. No wait, there it is, my bad.


The Lizard’s got some kick-ass shirts to tuck his offspring in, and provided evidence all bands are incapable of producing longsleeves without filling the sleeves.

Nordling Rites ov Karhu

I’m not even going to bother to ridicule this haul. I’m just going to say that Kovaa Rasva is a brighter/harder pink in reality, than it seems in the picture.

What did Mailmanbro bring you? Show us in the comments.

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