Michal's HeadlinesBare Butts

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Fairleigh-Dickinson

Independent University in New Jersey

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A map showing FDU's campuses in New Jersey, Canada & England
FDU has campuses in NJ, England & Canada
Margo behind a tree

Bare Butts, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal's calendars are meant to help women - what does that mean?The Calendars...

I inherited both a Christian and a European legacy. I owe a great deal to the leadership of both Julius Caesar and Pope Gregory. That doesn't mean I'm a slave to tradition. The Gregorian calendar is a great Christian calendar. As a civil calendar, there are a lot of things that can be improved. I provide this calendar wallpaper as a reminder that we can improve it together - and that we don't need to wait for a Pope to do it for us.Pointer

The art of the calendar is a neglected art form. I'm not talking about the design of a physical calendar that you can look at. I'm talking about the way we organize our days.

Consider the fact that the ancient Romans didn't do a great job of counting the days during winter. Regular folk may just have wanted winter to be over, so they thought time might pass by more quickly if they stopped watching. Unfortunately politicians did care. Their terms of office ended in the spring, so during the winter they certainly felt like their days were numbered. Certain unscrupulous politicians started playing around with those numbers, making the calendar start later, thereby extending their terms. Julius Caesar put a stop to this.

Caesar gave the Roman year an average of exactly 365.25 days, which is close to the sidereal year, the time it takes the Earth to revolve around the sun as measured against the fixed stars. He may not have been aware that the Greek astronomer Hipparchus had already discovered that the tropical year, the cycle of the seasons, was slightly shorter. The length of the mean tropical year for our times is 365.24237 days as determined by observations of the March equinox. That is why the Julian calendar has shifted away from the seasons over time.

I use a system that shortens the calendar year to within 3 seconds of the mean tropical year, for an average 365.2424 days a year, which allows the vernal equinox to occur every year within the same 24 hour period - unlike the Gregorian calendar, in which the equinox can vary year by year by as much as three days.

You may not be prepared to adopt a different calendar as long as everybody around you is still using the one Pope Gregory reformed back in the 16th century. That's okay.

I'm offering you free calendar wallpaper so you can think about how important the calendar is as an art-form, not just as a way of counting the days but as a way of organizing our culture and giving our society a direction.

If you think society is heading in the wrong direction and needs a little help, you can try to celebrate Love Your Neighbor Day as I have done - by placing it between Saturday and Sunday - and seeing how you feel. You might feel power and freedom from having broken the cycle of Monday to Friday, Saturday, Sunday. I did. It empowered me and gave me a sense of peace that continues to fuel me to this day. Maybe it can fuel you too.

The HD Body Acceptance Monthly Poster Calendar, A.D. 2013Pointer

high-definition digital wallpaper featuring the intelligent and graceful Margo Rijnvis

Margo and I hope that this calendar will brighten your day and lift your spirits high every time you visit your desktop.

Download this monthly poster calendar for December 2013 with a white background

A monthly poster calendar for December 2013 with a white background

Help End Ad Hominem Attacks With ArtOne of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

Strength and dignity are her clothing...

Proverbs 31:25

Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...Pointer

My plane touched down in Poland on June 20th. A month later I was in Austria. Two days later, Slovenia. The next day, Croatia. A week later, Italy. The next day, Switzerland. The next day, France. The next day, Germany. The next day, Belgium. The next day, Holland. All with a woman I had met my first weekend on the Continent.

Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter Margo.

From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.

Margo and I spent over 40 days on the road. We started out as basically strangers, but in those 40 days we started listening to each other. We started teaching ourselves how to cooperate. Our journey across Europe may have ended, but our journey towards each other continues. No amount of fear, anger, sadness, disgust or anticipation can stop hope. Slowly but surely, we're learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

Previous ImagePrevious Image 10x

Day -13
7/7/2011
 18༚25/24

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Sauna Cezar

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Bielsko-Biała, Poland

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THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...Pointer

a collection of modern art prints and posters

During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.

I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.

Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.

Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.

Michal's Dictionary:
Bare Butts

Some people need a reason to be looking at a bare bottom. They might be trying to arouse themselves sexually or they might be preparing to administer corporal punishment.

As a nudist, I prefer being naked over being clothed as a general rule. That means I don't need a reason to be naked. I need a reason to be clothed.

As a naturist, I don't need a reason to be looking at a bare bottom. I'm comfortable being surrounded by bare bottoms as a general rule.

I don't fetishize bare bottoms. I think they're useful artifacts. Without bottoms our legs wouldn't work. They attach our legs to the rest of our body and covering them up with fabric doesn't improve that function.

Pronunciation of Bare ButtsMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "bare butts."

Video of me pronouncing "bare butts."

Definition of Bare ButtsMargo on a trampoline

Bare Butts is something you will see at a nude beach or naturist resort. It will take you at most fifteen minutes to get used to it.

References for bare buttsMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Bare Butts

     

Samples of Fiction from Michal's CorpusMargo on a trampoline

An image of young Michal sitting on a potty in front of a typewriter

Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind

A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.

Frame #224

jayce and bieber - get your butts to citrus grove. now. goldman sachs's wife is staying in the gaudy purple trailer. i want a stake-out and a tail.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

28 July, 10:05 AM

Frame #1659

i wonder if my buttsweat is bad for the leather.

Justin Bieber

14 August, 1:43 AM

Frame #7536

if these idiots want madoff they have to get their butts back to their little elementary school headquarters and radio phillips ranch.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

24 December, 6:51 AM

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars

An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.

When I went to the paper-money-actuated coin dispenser, I removed a high-denomination bill from my wallet and a monkey stole it. He came out of nowhere and ripped it from my hand. He was a half a meter long, with a somewhat longer tail. He was tan colored, with a big, round head, a bare brown face and well-built arms and legs. He looked at me from two meters away and said 'Come and get it.' He was thick; his body was nice and thick - well-fed - his belly was bulging out like nobody's business. "You've got a lot of nerve," I said, "with a belly like that." He was standing erect, using his tail for support. Then he placed the paper money into his mouth, turned around, dropped to his little monkey hands and walked away - very, very slowly. The bastard didn't even run; he walked.

Verse 389 from the chapter called Bohemia

Jesus snorted. "He died from an overdose of heroin - just like I've always said. He was a heroin addict. He was taking heroin for years, and finally, he just died. That's it. The last time I talked to him, I could barely hear him breath, but I didn't do anything about it, 'cause that's what it was always like. That particular time, he fell into a coma and died. So I buried him - all by myself. There was no time for police or ceremonies. In those days, there were terrorists all over the place."

"That's the truth?"

Verses 975-976 from the chapter called Security

Was he really going to do it? he thought to himself. Was he really going to rob a Krupnik? Jesus was out of breath - he was really out of breath: his lungs hurt. What about his future brother-in-law? Jesus thought. Was he really going to attack two people at once with his bare hands? Impossible: Jesus shook his head. There was no way he was going to do it. He was going to watch them walk by with impunity and let them go home to their many-storied mansions, their glass palaces, their filtered paradises - he was a miserable human being! He was weak and defenseless! He was a bad person! Jesus sank to his haunches and rubbed his face. Mother was dead! A little girl was buried! Her neck was broken! A beautiful face bloodied! She fell from a third-story window onto concrete! Jesus rubbed his face and got up. He turned around. He rubbed his face against red brick. He beat his head. He beat the brick wall with his hands. Then he rubbed his face again: in the red brick: he tried to smush his face into the wall. It helped. Jesus was quiet. He wondered where they were. What was taking so long? Maybe they had left. Maybe they were gone. Maybe Jesus had missed them. O God! he prayed. Make it so I've missed them! Make it so I don't have to choose. Then he heard them. There were footsteps. He turned around. He put his back against the wall again. He sidestepped his way into a more complete darkness. There they were! crossing the street! This was it. Jesus didn't move. He thought about it: for a split-second, he almost moved a leg - but no: there was nothing. He was going to let them walk by with impunity. Go ahead, he said to himself. Go back to your filtered paradises - leave me the fuck alone.

Verse 613 from the chapter called Adolescence

I went to the open window. The middle of night was all I could see - the moon was hiding; all the streetlamps were broken. I could barely make out the brick wall nearby, the one which had once formed a building, and which, with the abandoned building next to it, was where the passersby would urinate. How many people Jesus had seen urinating by that wall! He had wondered: why do they always urinate in that same place, when so many apartment buildings are around? Then, he went to that place and discovered that his was the only window that penetrated into that poor man's toilet.

Verse 602 from the chapter called Adolescence

The next day was very dusty. Some dust cloud was blowing across the Czech Republic. When I got to the battlefield, I could barely see twenty meters in front of me. Zoe was nowhere to be seen. For the past two days, your mother had been waiting for me on the battlefield. I realized I was already spoiled. I didn't know what to do without her. I didn't have the foggiest idea. I went all the way back to the rock, but she wasn't there. I went all the way back to the road, then back to the rock - nothing. I sat down and waited. I didn't even know what to think about. Momentarily, Zoe appeared from the dust cloud. She was alone. She had left her monkey at home.

"Good morning," I yelled.

Verses 945-946 from the chapter called Bohemia

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed

A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.

We must've been on a bed or something - but of course, my consciousness was a part of the wall or the headboard: I didn't actually see myself. But the closest thing to me was a giant mound of hair on top of a pillow, then a woman's bare back arching before me: a beautiful back (not without resemblance to Indiana's - which, strangely, is how I think I must have envisioned...everything) spreading before me: the long elegance of a woman's back being tied off with a garter belt: black, of course; it was followed by two generous lumps of sugary flesh; but then, immediately: Nike's naked body - also something never witnessed, and for which I must have used myself as a model (and not to Nike's detriment).

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 16, Dealing with Medicines and Illness, Paragraph 2, Clauses 7-9

I looked back at Barbara just in time to see her fallen face. Somebody yelled out sixty and somehow she was able to squeeze out a painful smile across her lovely visage. But her muscles were not able to hold it long: the beggar offered an astounding eighty dollars, and she, dropping the corners of her wretched smile, had to fix the most pathetic face I have ever seen: like a mask of death sprinkled with glitter, painted with bright and happy colors that, aesthetically speaking, did not reconcile her now pale skin, or the uneven lines of her twisted lip, or relieve the tension of her naked brow in that beautiful but wretched face of slowly sinking features, relaxing themselves as if they knew the touch of death, and welcomed fate, even though the mouth was still fixed in horror, quietly extending the poetic moment with its cautious gaping, barely unfurling its bottom lip, as if still unsure of its fate in that final moment: a quiet appeal for justice that did not fall on blinded eyes, even though mine were temporarily imprisoned by her beauty in that smoky dungeon.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 7, Dating a Woman with Dogs, Paragraph 7

Admiration is the acceptance of an object's worth, whether this be determined by its existing qualities or by its potential. It is not an estimation of an object's worth. Considering the other words which describe a recognition of worthiness - like respect, esteem, and regard - admiration seems to have more to do with feeling, and less to do with ranking, since we say we feel admiration, and we rarely qualify this phrase - whereas, for example, we often consider showing respect to be the bare minimum of that which is required from us, and we often say we hold people or achievements in the highest esteem or the highest regard.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 7, The Seventh Day, Part 1, Strength & Security Sector Reform, Section 2, Facing a Choice, Paragraph 11

Luka turned around. The headlights came back towards us. We hid in the bushes. The woman was not hard to find. She was walking along the road. Her white cape glowed in the darkness. Luka caught her in his high beams. For a moment, the brilliancy of her cloak flashed before our eyes. It was all we could see. She had crossed her arms in front of her head. She was barefoot. She had dirty feet - beautiful, dirty feet.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 22, Encountering Poverty, Paragraph 44

I have also taken notice of your desire for poetry, but I must confess that I am not in the mood for waxing poetic. These modern hospitals are not quite fitting; they are too sterile, too mechanical; there are too many synthetic materials, too much plastic to be a good place for fostering passion. This corner is too quiet, too deadly quiet: a good place for writing - but not poetry; whether it be for my poetry or my prose, this hospital wing is too orderly; the rhythm here is too tired, too much going about one's business with a barely disguised reluctance. There's no way to wheedle any poetry out from these people. They are probably underpaid - but then again, I know nothing about British health care, and I'm not the sick one, so I won't complain. I don't think you want any elegies - although, when I look at Albert's quiet body: the once sturdy frame slowing sinking into itself - an elegy is all I can think of writing. But there is time for that.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 5

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla

A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.

Miss April sat on the edge of Tatum's bed. Like all lunar mattresses, it was barely larger than a cot. "It'll have to do," she whispered. Tatum came out of the bathroom. She was wearing one of her new prairie skirts. Miss April said it looked great.

"Are you sure?" asked Tatum.

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring distateful aliens

Ferrari agreed. It wasn't easy to keep his promise. His brother could barely keep the snot from piling on his upper lip. Every time Ferrari had to stand back and watch the concertmaster pull out his purse, pure envy pervaded his heart.

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring a man with few scruples left

Gog had no strength left. He could barely hold his ground. Blood flooded around him. He thought of his beloved Mithra. She couldn't afford to wait. Gog threw himself into the torrent. He reached the dark recesses of the ear. His blade found a vital lobe. The beast's limbs fell numb. The entire creature, measuring twenty thousand paces [e.g. seven and a half miles], dropped to the ground.

– from “In the Beginning, There was Gog,” a fantasy story set in ancient mesopotamia

The woman threw the sword away. She crouched low. She prepared to defend herself with her bare hands. Gog sheathed his sword. He grappled with the woman. He couldn't stop smiling-even as she bit his jaw. Gog cried out. He tried to laugh his way through the pain. He pulled the woman back by her hair. He whispered, "I like you."

– from “In the Beginning, There was Gog,” a fantasy story featuring a man searching for the gods

Perhaps flashing a badge in the midday sun blinded him, as Juanita later testified; perhaps he was frightened by Patsy's bare chest, as Patsy himself claimed. Regardless, he ran over the dunes, through the bush, across the main road, and right past the sign that said, "From this point on, you may encounter nude sunbathers."

Patsy, who had led the chase, stopped to catch his breath. Juanita was close behind. "God," he gasped, turning around, "I love it when you run."

– from “A Cop Named Patsy,” a funny story featuring a cop on a nude beach

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall

A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.

(GREY GOOSE and LUKE exit.)

MS. JACKSON: Barbarians.

ALICE: Some honeymoon: Luke spends more time with your husband than he does with me.

MS. JACKSON: He can have him. I do feel sorry for you, Alice.

ALICE: I don't mind. He makes up for it with other, more important qualities of manliness.

LESBIAN: Is he large?

ALICE: Yes.

MS. JACKSON: How large?

ALICE: Massive. I can barely take it.

LESBIAN: I don't know if I would like that.

– ACT I, lines 385-393

(ALICE exits.)

GREY GOOSE: Alone at last.

KOKOMO: You've done your business: now leave.

GREY GOOSE: There's more. I need your help.

KOKOMO: Again?

GREY GOOSE: Yes.

KOKOMO: I'm not your little plaything.

GREY GOOSE: Do you want to be thrown out? I didn't think so. Come with me to the kitchen. I need those tender little hands.

KOKOMO: This is the last time, Grey Goose. You've made me sore from all your stupid amusements. I can barely even walk or lift a finger. I'm totally spent.

GREY GOOSE: Don't pretend you don't like it.

– ACT I, lines 852-860

MS. JACKSON: You must be falling asleep after such a long day.

FLETCHER: Mother.

LESBIAN: I can barely keep my eyes open.

FLETCHER: Excuse me.

MS. JACKSON: That's a problem.

LESBIAN: Why?

MS. JACKSON: The laundry's not done. I'll have to take fresh sheets from the sofa bed.

LESBIAN: Don't bother. I'll sleep in here for now.

MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?

LESBIAN: It'll only be for a nap.

– ACT II, lines 262-271

GREY GOOSE: No. You're a good kid. I know that. I only wish I could've been a better father.

FLETCHER: You were good enough.

GREY GOOSE: I wasn't.

FLETCHER: You only hit me - what? Once? I deserved it.

GREY GOOSE: I made it count.

FLETCHER: I barely felt it.

GREY GOOSE: Come on.

FLETCHER: It's better than what you had. I'm grateful.

GREY GOOSE: I'm going to miss this place.

FLETCHER: You're not out yet.

– ACT I, lines 1277-1286

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats

A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

Proctor backed out of the bathroom. He looked at the window. There was a fire escape outside. It went up to the loft. Proctor went to look outside. He realized the window was unlocked. He locked it. He shut the curtain. He walked to the front door. He looked outside. The hallway was empty. Proctor tiptoed out. He tried to shut the door as quietly as he could. It wouldn't shut all the way. The frame was broken. Proctor left it. He started soft-shoeing his way down the hall. He could barely swallow his spit. There was a rock in his throat. The stairs seemed like they were getting farther and farther. He finally reached them. The stairwell was empty. He walked down the stairs. The lobby was empty. Proctor took a deep breath. He went outside. He waved to the policeman in the patrol car. He got to his own car. He drove off.

– from “We Need To Talk,” a mystery story featuring a former flame put in a weird position

Steve, Peter and I wandered around for a while. We spotted Mary walking down the sidewalk. We didn't stop to say hello. We went to a bar. There was barely anyone there. A guy on the patio was seated with his dog. Steve was a dog owner. It gave him a reason to chat. I focused on the bar girl but not to my benefit.

– from “Woodstock,” a life story based on what really happened, namely to the author

My thoughts raced. What was going on? I imagined leaning over and kissing her. I shook my head. Why would I think that? I considered putting my hand on her knee. What for? Nonsense. I remembered how I grasped her bare buttocks. My God. What had I done?

– from “St. Andrew's Eve,” a story of love that may ease one's sense of distaste depending on your outlook

"I saw the two of them down by the court," said the young woman. She was talking about Matt and Parker. She whispered, "I think they're doing it." Jessica puckered her mouth in excitement. She was grateful to be off the grindstone. Her beer-fueled dalliance with the old man fueled giggles and shakes of the head for days. She was the youngest counselor. Barely eighteen.

I considered mentioning Matt's condoms. I thought better of it.

– from “A Magnum Condom,” a bedtime story to teach children about the real world that may or may not work

I killed a cat. It was an accident. I was trying to cut its fur. I wanted to show Kelly the ugliness of a shaved pussy. I don't deserve two years of prison for it. Cruelty to animals is nothing next to how humans treat each other. They put me in the same prison I used to guard. At the very least I know which of these bitches aren't shaved. Those are the ones I can fuck. Even when I was a kid I couldn't stand a bare floor. All the blood stains and grime and guts on the linoleum in the kitchen. It was disgusting. It always curled up at the edges. Like Kelly's toes. As soon as I get out of here I'll find that girl. I'll get her the biggest razor I can find.

– from “Two Years,” an adult fiction story about a lady at a women's prison

Love is the answer...

What are we waiting for? Let's accept it!

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

Still Life, Patriarchy

Contemporary wall art to remind us that Father always says Father knows best

To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Your support keeps the "Bare Butts" page up and running...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting Polish art...is he brainsick?

Michal's Sales Pitch
Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts

  1. T-shirt fundraiser for sale

    Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser for sale.

    Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed. Pointer

    From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  2. Felt handbag for sale

    Handcrafted felt handbag for sale.

    Felt bag by Dorota. Pointer

    Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  3. Decorative collar for sale

    Handcrafted decorative collar for sale.

    Decorative collar by Zuzanna. Pointer

    Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  4. Seamless handbag for sale

    Handcrafted seamless handbag for sale.

    Handbag by Sylwia. Pointer

    Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  5. Patchwork quilt for sale

    Handcrafted patchwork quilt for sale.

    Patchwork quilt by Alicja. Pointer

    Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  6. Nuno-felt shawl for sale

    Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl for sale.

    Shawl by Sylwia. Pointer

    Scarf made ​​with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  7. Clara the doll for sale

    Handcrafted clara the doll for sale.

    Clara by Alicja. Pointer

    Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  8. Noah the doll for sale

    Handcrafted noah the doll for sale.

    Noah by Alicja. Pointer

    Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  9. Black suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted black suspenders for sale.

    Black suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  10. Orange suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted orange suspenders for sale.

    Orange suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  11. Green suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted green suspenders for sale.

    Green suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  12. Felt earrings for sale

    Handcrafted felt earrings for sale.

    Felt earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  13. Round ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted round ceramic earrings for sale.

    Round ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  14. Oblong ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings for sale.

    Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

  15. 'Coral' necklace for sale

    Handcrafted 'coral' necklace for sale.

    Corals by Sylwia. Pointer

    Necklace made ​​of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.

    To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.

Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser
Handcrafted felt handbag
Handcrafted decorative collar
Handcrafted seamless handbag
Handcrafted patchwork quilt
Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl
Handcrafted clara the doll
Handcrafted noah the doll
Handcrafted black suspenders
Handcrafted orange suspenders
Handcrafted green suspenders
Handcrafted felt earrings
Handcrafted round ceramic earrings
Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings
Handcrafted 'coral' necklace