This surfaced recently on The Garage Journal—a mechanical pencil, but not just any cheap, plastic bastard. No, this thing comes from a British outfit that’s been in the game for over 200 years. Two centuries of making pencils, refusing to bend the knee to trends, tech, or whatever factory-line efficiency the corporate stooges are pushing this week.

The result? A gorgeous piece of work, a pencil with real soul. But what really makes it shine is the process—handcrafted using machines and tooling that have been slowly refined over generations. No shortcuts. No gimmicks. Just tradition, quality, and longevity wrapped in precision metal.

Fucking brilliant.

Details.

Goddamnit. One fountain pen shows up at my doorstep, and the next thing I know, I’m tumbling headfirst into some godforsaken rabbit hole—cash hemorrhaging from my pockets like blood from a fresh wound. It’s a mess. A financial freefall. And I am not happy about it.

But at least I can say I found the Lamy 2000 on my way down. A rare consolation prize. For the uninitiated, this is no ordinary pen—it’s a product of German precision, designed by Gerd Müller, the same industrial design lunatic responsible for making Braun’s stuff look like it came from a future we never quite reached. Lamy has been cranking these things out since 1966, and somehow, it’s still regarded as one of the greatest fountain pens ever made.

Now, I’m no expert in the dark arts of fountain pens, but Jesus Christ, writing with this thing is pure, unfiltered pleasure. The ink flows like expensive liquor, smooth and predictable, and even the shittiest paper turns to silk beneath the nib. I can’t explain it, but if you’ve got a spare $150 rattling around and you write like your life depends on it, this thing is worth every damn penny.

Get yours here.

The bureaucratic sky jockeys flying under Uncle Sam’s banner needed a pen—a real bastard of a tool. Cheap enough to lose, tough enough to survive, and packed with just enough firepower: black ink, red ink, and a mechanical pencil for good measure. Enter Skilcraft, the unsung hero of government-issue gear.

The trick? They source the guts from Japan, then assemble the whole operation stateside using skilled, blind labor. Yes, blind. Let that sink in.

Bottom line? These things are damn solid. If you want in, you can find ‘em on Amazon here.