Day-twah Vogg-nah
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And now, three pages of iconic splendidness.

In late 1997 I heard from my friend Daniel Paul about some sort of depository of old Big Boy statues. He had no details but the idea of it remained a back-of-the-mind holy grail for me.

In July of 2004 Babs, unaware of this quest, emailed a link to a page of photos (at Idiotblog, now defunct) gathered under the rubric: "WHERE DO BIG BOYS GO WHEN THEY DIE ?"

Now it can be known: dead Big Boys go to Michigan.

Twilight
of the
Big Boys
Once inside the yard, we spotted a buttwideopen gate on the other side of the yard. We had climbed the fence needlessly. We smott.
Big Boyiana
Big Boy, Better Days.
Big Boy Butt
How a Big Boy runs


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