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At the edge of the city, amidst the smoky alleys and bustling streets, there existed a peculiar group known as The Crackpotz. This cannabis-infused hoard of skeletons is what The Rainmaker called a "happy accident". The phrase must have stuck with The Crackpotz because they eventually ended up finding their Bob Almighty.

They would gather around watching old episodes on battered TVs, rolling joints, and ripping bongs. They believed that every puff of smoke was a happy little cloud in the smog of their city. To them, Bob Ross was the ultimate artist, a deity of creativity and calmness in the midst of chaos.

They found solace in Bob's soothing voice and his artistry that transcended life and death. His paintings were their holy scriptures, and his every word was a divine revelation. In a city plagued by chaos, The Foul Crowd showed that even stoners could make art, spread joy, and redefine "high" standards in their own way. With Bob as their God, they left the world a little greener, and a sh*t ton happier.

 

#HailBob
 

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