The Leica LUX Grip

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Ah, Christ. Another day, another Leica cash grab—some fever-dream marketing ploy designed not for photographers but for the sort of people who think owning a Leica makes them part of some elusive, well-heeled cult. This time, they’ve cooked up a grip—an absurd little contraption that turns your iPhone into a machine that not only spies on you but also pretends to be a real camera.

I’ll give them this: the Leica FOTOS app is slick. Almost dangerously good. And yeah, maybe this grip makes it a little more enjoyable. But not $329 enjoyable. Maybe $100 enjoyable.

Patience, my friend. Let the suckers take the hit first. When the euphoria wears off, they’ll be dumping these things on the used market for a fraction of the price. That’s when you strike.

Details here.

The Lamy Safari

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The fountain pen racket has always fascinated me—a world of ink-stained fingers, whispered secrets about nib flex, and the kind of purist insanity that makes Leica fanatics seem well-adjusted. But not enough, mind you, to throw down my own hard-earned cash and wade into the murky depths of piston fillers and bottled ink rituals. No, sir. I had other obsessions to bankroll.

Then, out of nowhere, a Lamy Safari landed in my lap—a lean, utilitarian bastard of a pen, built like a German war machine but priced for the common man. No pomp, no arcane rituals—just a clean, smooth-writing instrument that takes ink cartridges like a junkie takes a fix.

I’ve been using it for a few weeks now, waiting for the inevitable disaster—the leaks, the blotches, the slow realization that I was in over my head. But nothing. Just an effortless glide across the page, like Hunter S. Thompson on a mescaline bender. No resistance, no hesitation, just pure, unfiltered motion.

If you’ve ever felt the pull of the fountain pen mystique but balked at the price of admission, the Safari is your ticket in. Grab one. Test it. See if you don’t start looking down your nose at ballpoints like the rest of these ink-stained lunatics.

Details here.

Pelican ATX Collection

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Pelican has unleashed a new breed of suitcases—lean, mean, and practically indestructible, like a grizzly bear in an armored tuxedo. These things are supposedly as tough as their iconic protective cases, built for the hellscapes of airline baggage handlers, but now tailored for the weary, paranoid traveler. Lighter, roomier, and still impervious to the elements, they’re the functional offspring of overengineering and common sense.

Frankly, this strikes me as a better option than those glitzy aluminum cases that the jet-set crowd loves to parade around. Sure, the shiny metal numbers have the look of a high-stakes poker player’s bankroll case, but for my money, the Pelican gear feels more honest—cheaper, tougher, and less likely to buckle under the pressures of reality. Style be damned; give me durability any day.

Details here.

Iron Ranger 8084

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I’ve been stomping through life in Red Wing 1178s since I was fifteen—a scrappy kid in boots built like tanks. Over the years, those bastards have seen a half-dozen resoles and more abuse than any piece of leather deserves. They’ve been bulletproof companions, the kind you’d trust in a knife fight or a blackout bender.

But recently, I slipped into a pair of Red Wing Iron Rangers, and damn if they didn’t impress me. Just as comfortable as the 1178s, and they look tough enough to take a hammering. It’s good to have options, and these are worth every penny. Highly recommended, 100%.

Details here.

My 2024 Findings

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Life’s too short not to celebrate the gear that makes it better. So here it is—a rundown of the stuff I found in 2024 that actually improved my existence. Not all of it is fresh off the market, but it’s all been worth the investment. Let’s dive in:

Leica M11

Yeah, I know—it’s been out for a couple of years, and my relationship with Leica is as love/hate as it gets. Their sky-high prices and fashion-driven nonsense drive me nuts. But I took an M11 on trade this year, and damn it, it’s the best digital camera I’ve ever used. Tactile, mechanical, solid, and somehow still digital. Nothing else comes close to the experience…

Remote Equipment Alpha 31

This backpack isn’t new, but it’s new to me. In 2024, I finally tried it, and it’s the best I’ve ever owned. The flexibility is what gets me—just as good for everyday carry as it is for travel.

Cliq Chair

A folding chair that’s lightweight, compact, and ridiculously comfortable. I own six of these now, and they’ve become my go-to beach chairs.

The Cunningham Coat

A chore coat that stays true to the style while being lightweight and versatile. I’ve beaten mine to hell, and it still looks new.

Evergoods CAP 1

The best tech pouch I’ve ever used. It organizes a ton of gear without turning into a bulky nightmare. Built like a tank, too.

The Oyster Cooler

Yeah, it’s overpriced—absurdly so. But if you use a cooler as much as I do, the Oyster is next-level incredible.

OrSlow Fatigue Pants

I’ve been a denim guy my whole life, but these pants changed the game. I’ve worn them exclusively all year—slim cut for winter, regular for summer. Durable as hell and insanely comfortable.

My Coffee Setup

Bought it early in the year, and it’s been a daily ritual ever since. Probably the single most impactful purchase I made in 2024.

iPad Mini

Old tech, sure, but it’s my most-used device. Perfect size, perfect power.

Rivian R1T

I never thought I’d be an EV guy, but this truck changed my mind. I was pretty much forced into it, sure, but it’s the most convenient vehicle I’ve ever owned. If I had to give it back, I am not sure what I could replace it with…

And there you have it—my top 10 for 2024. Gear that earned its keep and made life just a little bit better.

The Christy Knife

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I’ve stumbled across these little bastards at antique stores more times than I can count, always dismissed them without a second thought. But as it turns out, they’re still in production, and Christy is cranking out replacement blades—all made and shipped right here in the USA.

Call me a sentimental fool, but suddenly I’m smitten with the idea of this scrappy little pocket gadget. It’s got a certain romance to it, a stubborn refusal to fade away. I can respect that.

Details here.

Squarehood

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Squarehood is the kind of outfit that thrives in the shadowy underbelly of the niche market—supplying square hoods and obscure camera accessories to the select few who truly give a damn. It’s not mainstream, nor does it try to be. But if you’re hunting for the perfect hood for your 28mm Ultron, or some arcane gadget to pimp out your point-and-shoot, these maniacs are the ones to call.

Naturally, I threw in my order—expecting the usual sterile efficiency—and FedEx, true to its chaotic nature, promptly lost the damn package. A fine display of corporate entropy. But Squarehood? They didn’t flinch. On Christmas Day, no less, they swooped in like a gang of caffeinated elves, hellbent on righting the wrongs of modern logistics.

This is customer service with guts. These are the people you want in your corner when the chips are down and the lens hoods are lost. I’m sold—hook, line, and sinker—for life.

Details here.

Plotter

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Plotter is a Japanese company that does what Japanese companies do best: build things like a goddamned brick shithouse. Their bread and butter is binders—sleek, modular little contraptions that range from journals to organizers. The one that’s got my attention is the “Mini 5,” their smallest offering. Think of it as a wallet on steroids, with just enough organizer functionality to make you feel like you’ve got your life together.

I’d pull the trigger on one, but here’s the rub: I know myself. Systems like this last about two weeks before my discipline crumbles into dust. Then I’m stuck lugging around a binder I don’t need, full of plans I’ll never follow. Still, it’s tempting. Damn tempting.

Details here.