Our friend Bama is something of an enigma, an enigma that broke into your house drunk wearing only socks, whitey tighties, and a Marzocchi hat, an enigma that is snoring loudly, wrapped in someone else's shirt, sleeping on your living room floor. The last time we hung out, Bama left his cellular communication device unattended for a short duration of time while we were drinking beer and gittin' shitty. The photo speaks for itself. It was like stumbling onto Niagra Falls by accident, or inadvertantly pooping yourself during a sneeze, something so unexpected you feel the need to memorialize the…