Archive for February, 2009
Went out to Greenpoint Brooklyn yesterday for a meeting with photographer Ed Zipco. His pad is huge and there’s lots of fun stuff to play with, including a wall for throwing big knives at!
Here’s the only video where I’m not giggling like an idiot. Unfortunately it’s the only one where none of the knives actually stuck into the wall.
Read the rest of this entryHere’s a website where they combine Charlie Brown comics with text taken from pornographic magazines. It’s fantastically absurd.
Check it out here
Thinking about adopting a cat from the ASPCA. It’s either Jonny or Choco. Jonny looks funny but Choco looks busted and sad… poor little Choco. What’d you think?
This is fast becoming the funniest ebay listing of all time- ‘BMX Bike Bicycle SuperRad Extreme 2000′ Rad to the power of sick.
This is a max wicked sick BMX. It’s a Reliance Boomerang and it’s done heaps of maximum extreme stunts. I have mostly done stunts on this bike since forever. Once I did a boom gnarly stunt trick on it and a girl got pregnant just by watching my extremeness to the maxxxx. Some details about sickmax BMX: Comes with everything you see including: TOPS AS SUSPENSION REAR FORKS!! 2 x wheels 1 x seat I will even thrown my sick BMXing name for FREE – Wicked Styx. Has minor surface rust on handlebars and front forks (easily removed). More rust on rear forks (as shown in pics). Tyres hold air but are pretty old. Basically, it’s an old BMX, but it’s radness is still 100% in tact. Tricks I have done on this BMX: Endos – 234. Sick Wheelies – 687. Skids – 143,000. Bunny Hops – 2 (Bunny Hops are gay and my brother dared me to do them, which I did because I’m Rad to the power of Sick). Flipouts – 28. Basically if you buy this bike you will instantly become a member to every club that was ever invented, worldwide, because you will be awesome. Pick up from Richmond in Melbourne. Throw your hands in the air like you just don’t mind.
Nate Lowman has a show opening on Saturday. A Dog From Every County. Looks good! Maccaroni Gallery 630 Greenwich St. NYC.
Here’s His Name is Earl at the tender age of 14, shredding outside his house in the early 80′s.
Speaking shredding the gnarly- WOOOOO contributer and all round super-champion Riley Payne was caught airing off his armpits in the burbs recently on threethousand.com
Brendan used to live across the street from me in China Town about five years ago. One time I went over to his pad and there was a dead guy two floors below him. “Hey! Come up! I think there’s a dead person in my building!” I couldn’t get up those stairs fast enough! A real live dead person! Yee-haw! But when that pungent waft hit my nostrils- I couldn’t get out fast enough. The smell was utterly revolting. It was the first and only time I’ve smelt death, and it made all my hair stand up on end. I instantly knew what it was and there was no doubt about it, even though I’d never smelded it before. Brendan had stuffed towels under the dudes door to try and lock the funk in. It didn’t work at all. It took days for the landlord to do something about it, and I think Brendan ended up staying at a friend’s house. I don’t see Brendan around much these days, but it looks like he’s having a good time.
Another friend of mine, John, used to live in this share-house with about five other people and a cat. Big old house, near the beach. Anyway, one of the dudes who lived there was a little reclusive. He’d come, he’d go, and no one really spoke with him that much. One time he went missing for a few days, which wasn’t that uncommon, he was always disappearing for days all the time, but then this stank began to emanate from his room… Eventually they kicked his door in and there he was- spread eagle and jaundiced with a syringe dangling from his arm.
Everyone moved out immediately, except John, he had nowhere to go for at least ten days! The cat was stranded too. As it turned out he belonged to no one. So John and the cat moved into the front room, the living room, the room furthest from the dead guy’s room, and lived there for ten days. The house was big, two stories, and now it was completely empty, save John and the cat.
The cat wouldn’t stay in the house when John left for work in the morning. He’d sit on the fence and wait for him to come home, and then they’d go back into the front room together.
John heard noises at night and occasionally had to poke his head out the door and yell down the echo chamber hall: “We’re leaving at the end of the week. You stay up your end and we’ll stay down here.”
Pretty schpooky…
Watch this again and see if it still freaks you out…
We got an extra monstrous copy of New York yesterday!
Somehow the printers botched the cover and gave us the jagged end of the paper roll (we think). which just happens to fall across Bernie Douche-hoffs mouth. At first we thought New York was getting all Flair on us… in the recession.
Still insanely cold in NYC. Right now it’s 26. Four more weeks till Spring. God help us.
Here’s a handy tip: Let your shoes cook on the radiator when you’re not wearing them! Makes the office smell like rubber, but at least your feets are warm as toast when you have to go outside.
This is pretty cool…
What a fantastic sentence. Thanks Sam Anderson page 125 of this weeks New York magazine.
When I was a kid, me and my crew of pimply, cracked-voice, ripper-rat buddies used to go to the magazine store after school and loiter. One of my little pals at the time, Justin, would only be able to peruse magazines with us for a short time because the smell of the glossies made him want to shit.
He’d sidle up to you, lightly moving his weight from foot to foot, and whisper “I have to go. Can we go? The smell is making me want to go to the toilet.” We’d tell him to go wait outside, we’d only be a couple more minutes. So he’d go out on the street and sort of jog on the spot to keep from loading his pants up, occasionally getting up on his tip-toes to squint in at us like a meerkat. Naturally we’d take forever and then he’d come back into the store with his hand over his nose announcing that he was going home, we were taking too long.
One time he actually got a turtle’s head and had to run round the corner to use the bathroom at the public library.
At the public library there was this dude we called ‘Poker-Machine’ because he only had one arm. Apparently he and his brother, who we named ‘Wombat’, had been playing on the train lines when they were kids and Pokey got hit.
Poker-Machine never wore shoes. It could be below 30 and you’d see him tearing down the main street with bare feet and a scowl. He was always scowling. Scowling and reading in the far corner of the public library. He broke my heart, did Poker-Machine, I felt bad for him. He was, and remains, the most outcast person I’d ever encountered.
Pokey and Wombat lived in a white brick house surrounded by lush, waist-high grass. They never mowed their lawn. Ever. They had a nice looking cat that you’d always see slinking around on their roof, stalking birds and passers by. He was a tabby and sometimes I’d catch Poke petting him on their porch. He wouldn’t scowl then, he’d smile.
Eventually we caught that cat and beat it to death with hockey sticks. Then we stuffed it in Pokey’s mailbox.
Not true.
Week till NUMBER SIX!!!!!
Ten days max.
Happily stuck at home today, babysitting Elliot the cat. Elliot’s folks went away and we agreed to look after him for the week. He arrived in a cardboard box that we had to leave in the bathroom until he came out by himself, which didn’t take long. Now he’s cruising around the pad like he’s been here the whole time, looking me up and down like I’m crashing at his place!
I think he looks a bit like Fritz the Cat.
Here’s some pics of Elliot emerging from his box in the crapper to check out his new digs.
Well, now we’ve seen it all. Special plates for men who like other mens bottoms.
Mang, struggling to stay on top of the blog because we’re trying to get the new site ready to launch. It’s so much better.
Updating this site is like driving an old beat-up Taurus when you know there’s a Rolls Royce in the garage getting the final polish.
Anyway, bear with us.
Now, our buddies The Duke Spirit are coming back to town! They are dope. Check em out.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s not right! But you know what? That’s life, get ready for it. You can hardly blame men in their fifties running away with younger women can you? Kidding. Smiley face.
How was your weekend? Go to the park? Get some sun? Thats nice.
Yup. The worst. Nothing knocks those love-handles off faster, by the way. Oh, and the nightmares! Wonderful!
Saw this on Flicker and got a bit upset. I mean, we don’t expect everyone to be a rock historian or anything, but come on people!
Get a clue! The man wrote ‘Night Goat’! ‘NIGHT GOAT’!!!!!! Wake up and smell the… smell the… fuckin… RAAAAAGH!
How annoying was that?! Makes you wanna punch heads don’t it? ANGRY! Now, channel that anger into air drumming. I did.
Couldn’t find a decent ‘Night Goat’ vid so we got this epic live version of ‘Honey Bucket’ So, so, so, so, so good.
I hope I die before The Melvins so they can play this song at my graveside as the casket gets lowered into the earth…
…And then bursts into flames! And I come back to life, but totally on fire! With horns and bat wings! And laser eyes! And I start zapping everyone I didn’t want at my funeral!
“I NEVER LIKED YOU WHEN I WAS ALIVE!” ZZZAP!! “WHO INVITED YOU, JERK OFF?” ZZZZAP! HAHAHAHAH!!!
Wa-hay too much work to do right now. Lookit the office! What a mess! Too much. Bear with us.
It’s difficult to stay enthusiastic about blogging on your old website when you know there’s a totally new one almost finished.
It looks insane, by the way. The Originetsters are the best. And our buddies over at Inkfloyd are doing a new t-shirt for us!
It’s all happening. Just wish the printer would put that shit on a truck so we can get on with our lives. I’m blame gaming, sorry.
Don’t start a mag if you can help it, total pain in the ass.
How rad is Billy Idol? We just love him. Do you? You should, he’s awesome. This is probably the best song to drive your Porsche off a cliff to when you’re a burnt out, middle aged, Hollywood producer coke freak with a pony tail. Maybe there’s a comatose starlet in the passenger seat that you accidently gave too much heroin, maybe you’re sobbing and singing along with Billy, sucking the rings off your fingers one by one and spitting them into the night. It’s the end baby, you’re getting outa this town once and for all…
eyes without a face…
We got a zine called ‘Kleavage’ in the mail today, and it’s awesome! Really difficult to photograph though. The shots below don’t do it justice. The creators are in LA and you can probably get a copy by emailing a guy called Ben HERE.
We don’t know black metal but we know what we like, and it’s not black metal. It’s just not very nice, is it? Have you seen that Mayhem bootleg album ‘Dawn of the Black Hearts’? The cover features a picture of the former Mayhem lead singer with his head shot off, really, he committed suicide. One of the band’s guitarists found him and, after rearranging some of the bits n’ pieces, he took a photo. Who needs to see that? It’s just not very nice.
That said, we like this song by a dude named ‘Jape’
