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Good friend of ours, who shall remain nameless for now, wears a bitchin’ brass Flying Eyeball belt buckle. Asked him about it one time, years ago, and he said that he was down in L.A. visiting Von Dutch near the airport and he gave it to him. Well, the story goes on that he didn’t so much give it to him as he let him have it. Almost literally. Toward the end of his life, Dutch lived in a bus outside a southern California airport. His entire workshop and living area was onboard a 1953 GMC transit bus and all involved had seen better days. The story goes that Dutch was in a famously bad mood when this guy called on him that day –– something about his dog had gotten on his bad side and he was chasing the poor guy around, threatening a good beating if he caught hold of him. In a last-ditch effort, Dutch pulled his belt from his pants, took a flailing swing at the dog and the hand-tooled Flying Eyeball buckle tore loose from the leather and went flying across the lot. The dog escaped, Dutch was even more pissed-off and the scene de-escalated fairly quickly.
Well, our buddy watched the whole thing unfold, waited for Dutch to cool off, walked over to where the belt buckle had landed, picked it up and attempted to hand it back to him. Dutch brushed him off with an “Aah, fuck it” or some such Dutch-ism, bequeathing the buckle to him. He shrugged, put it in his pocket and went about the rest of the visit onboard Dutch’s home. Worn it every day since.