Archive for October, 2009
Read the rest of this entryCan’t talk. Hungover. Renovating. Renovating with a hangover. Can you even imagine?
I was at the Nokia Theatre in LA last night, for the opening of that Michael Jackson movie (ehh). Lando had tickets, so I rolled with him.
It always gets murky and weird when we get together. Always. A couple of catch-up drinks quickly devolves into a night of serious Caligulan depravity. I can’t remember much of what happened after we left the premier, but I do vaguely recall Lando “making it rain” on two hookers in a 7 Eleven, and I think I had an argument with Dr J about who was sitting the front seat on the way to Jumb’s Clown Room… At about 6 am we were playing this game that involved a lit cigarette on the end of a fishing line, and now the carpet in Lando’s living room is peppered with little scorch marks. That’s the renovating I was talking about. We have to rip the carpet up and have it replaced before his wife gets home from Majorca.
Then, as soon as we’re done, I have to fly to Florida for a boat race.
And that’s why the posts are getting thinner and fewer.
Thanks for Xanax, Quincy.
How many shades of epic is this photo? This is the album art work from 10CC’s ‘Deceptive Bends’.
It’s the genius work of Hipgnosis, the same guys that did the cover art for ‘Dark Side of the Moon’, ‘Houses of the Holy’, ‘Electric Warrior’ et al. My parents had this record, and when I was a kid wondered if the guy in the dive-suit was saving the lady or abducting her. From memory, it worried me. I also remember the album art didn’t match the music (the single from this was The Things We do For Love).
Anyway, I just wanted you to look at it and think, “Wow. That’s fifteen different shades of epic.”
Anyone else really worried about Le Mozz? What happened? What’s wrong? No bueno, man. I hope it’s just his sugar or something…
I’ve got a feeling he’s just fine. I would have pretended to collapse on stage after about the third dude jumped up and hugged me. Fuck that for a lark.
Swine flu? Who said Swine flu? I didn’t say anything about Swine flu. Stop spreading rumors, guy.
Nows the time to get that ‘There is a Light…’ tattoo you’ve been talking about doing since the first time you went to Sway.
We’re trying make light of all this because we’re legitimately freaked. Get well Mozz.
That’s it for today. We’ve got the painters in… the literal painters… and I’ve got my period. See you tomorrow Fatty.
x
This is the greatest album in the history of Rock n’ Roll. I know you’ve heard it before, perhaps many times before, but listen again.
It stayed on the Billboard top 200 for fourteen years. That’s approximately how long it takes a male human to reach sexual maturity. So, if you were born in 1973, this album was still charting when you got your fist pube. I’m just sayin’.
My point is- Holy shit. This record is amazing.
Even if you first heard this in a dorm room when you were eighteen, you can keep coming back to it for the rest of your life, and it will still be absolutely awesome.
The Flaming Lips are threatening to remake this record, which strikes me, personally, as one of the most egregious acts of arrogance in the history of the world. Insipid douche bags. Hopefully they’ll all be electrocuted during one of their meticulously contrived ‘religious-experience’ concerts (gross) and their re-make will never see the light of day. One can only hope.
Scratch that bit about, “threatening” to remake Dark Side of the Moon. They already did it. And they enlisted the help of Rollins and Peaches.
Awe… some?
Anyway, dust this record off and give it a listen. We’ll catch you next week.
Can I get a show of hands- Who thinks Glee is the gayest, gayest shit that ever happened? What- the- fuck?
Why do I care? Because my ol’ lady is all into it. I seriously can’t get over how much of a shamful cringe-fest that show is.
Anyway, if you wanna try acid, but you don’t have 10-12 hours to kill: Watch this show… It messed us right up. It’s not right.
I was thinking how weird things are getting these days… then I menembered this show… Not as terrifying, but undoubtedly- weird…
Earlier still… God help us.
Good news! A friend who works at Powerboat Magazine has landed me a gig covering the 29th Annual Key West World Championship Powerboat Race. So, that’s yours truly sorted for margaritas and cheese burgers for the month of November.
Here’s some highlights from last year’s race.
I’ve got some fancy foot-work ahead, in terms of changing flights and meeting deadlines for smaller projects, etc. I’ve also, seriously, got to find a new pair of shorts. I think these would work well…
Now, in a bid to make good on our ‘more Q&A’ vow, we called up the Florida Tourist Information service for Key West and got some answers about my upcoming trip. Unfortunately, Nancy turned out to be an full-tilt square. There was no way she was giving up her connections.
I’ll call one of the head shops tomorrow. They’ll have the scoop.
Hello?
Hello! Thanks for calling the Florida Keys! You’ve reached Key West. This is Nancy. How may I help you?
Hi Nancy. I’m planning a trip to Key West and I just wanted be sure that it’s okay for me to smoke pot down there.
Are you serious?
Yeah. I know it was decriminalized, but I just want to be sure I’m not gonna get hassled by the cops for smoking on the beach or whatever.
Marijuana is illegal in the United States, and Key West is part of the United States.
Yeah, I know. But it was decriminalized a few years ago, right? I mean, I don’t have to bring a stash with me on the plane do I? I wanna make sure I’ll be able to buy some when I get there. Some of that Maui Waui I think it’s called.
What do you mean? You mean that it’s legal? You think it’s legal?
Yeah. It is, Nancy.
No. It’s most certainly against the law to have marijuana possession, to smoke it, sell it, or have it in any way, shape, or form.
What are the penalties then? They must be pretty lax, right? It’s Key West!
Sir, I really don’t know. These aren’t really calls that we take. I can tell you that marijuana use in the state of Florida is against the law.
Listen, this is what I wanna do- I wanna come down there, get some rum, get some grass, and just roam about the place with no shoes on. Is that gonna work?
Marijuana is illegal in America! Key West is America!
Well, I think that’s absurd, considering Jimmy Buffett lives down there.
You have a great day. Thank you so much.
Wait, wait, wait. Wasn’t Hemmingway from Key West? He smoked like a chimney!
Good bye, sir.
(click)
We’re not massive fans of The Who, but this is pretty epic. Keith Moon passed out on animal tranquilizers and brandy, so the band asked if anyone in the audience could play the drums.
Random dude, Scot Halpin, made his way to the stage and filled in. Apologies to all rock historians who already knew this. Sorry for wasting your precious time.
Skip to about 6:40
This dude is cracking us up.
So Boss…
Recommended Key West essential.
Thanks Tyler.
Some of the most frequently asked questions…
We’re fast approaching one of the worst winters in a decade, here in New York, and that’s why I’m bailing to a little place I like to call- “Summer Numero Dos”
That’s right, friends, I’m having another summer. A little greedy, yes. But seriously, winter can take a big heaving toke on my love flute. I’m not doing it again this year. I’ve done the math and it’s cheaper to live in the Keys for winter, than to stay here and live on anti-depressants and liquor. Look at this picture. Pretty, right? No it fuckin’ ain’t. It’s miserable. You’ve no idea how shit things can be until you’ve lived in this city for a winter. I’d almost prefer Afghanistan. Almost.
Let’s zoom down now, and take a look at what’s waiting for yours truly in the tropics.
This is my outfit for Summer #2.
Any scribe who’s worth his salt eventually moves to Key West. I figure I’ve bull-shited my way this far, I may as well keep going.
Plus, it’s already getting wintery here. Ridiculous. It seems only yesterday we were bitching about the unseasonable gloom of last october. Maybe I’ll write a book- The Autodidactic Fraud Goes South.
Y’all may have noticed we’ve gone completely off track in the last couple of months, posting up poorly composed memoirs and random daydreamy crap. We’re just filling in the gaps with whatever. We have to start posting up more interviews.
After all, that’s what, and how, we do.
Let this drizzly little Sunday afternoon post serve as a pledge to absolutely kill it with the Q & A content from here on in.
Now, look at this satellite photo of Key West (bottom) and imagine yourself flying out the window, over the city, taking a wide arc out across the atlantic, and then lowering yourself down about twenty feet off shore, waist deep in the Caribbean.
Now picture yourself wading onto the beach, and then walking barefoot to the grocery to grab a six pack. Forget the girl in the bikini!
Just get the beer. We must have beer… and a bottle of spiced rum… and some sandwiches.
Thanks, man. I’ll wait here on the beach.
Jesus. Really?
LolCats: Funny or just really fucking stupid? I’m going with stupid. They make me cringe. However, they’ve made Ben Huh extremely wealthy, so who cares?
I’ve decided to become a waiter pimp. You’ll see me rolling about town in a Bentley, pulling up at restaurants around closing time and getting paid by my stable of cowering waiter-bitches.
Here’s that interview with professional skater and 2nd place getter at the World Beard & Moustache Championships-
PATRICK MELCHER!
A first draft of this, spelling mistakes and all, and a photo of Patrick is available at that silent auction I mentioned a couple of days ago? You know, the cancer-of-the-nuts benefit. It’s tonight on Mulberry St. Read the post from a couple of days ago for details.
Did you start growing your moustache because you wanted to win the 2009 World Beard & Moustache Championships?
No. I started growing a moustache ‘cause they’re awesome, and then some dudes were like, “You should join the moustache club in town!”
Did you join the club?
Yeah. I emailed them and they were all cool guys, so I went and joined the beard and moustache club. As soon as I joined they were like, “You gotta go to the championships in Anchorage with us! We went last year and it was amazing!” And I’m like, “I don’t even know you guys, dude! I don’t wanna spend a week with you in Alaska! Come on.”
But you went anyway and came in 2nd!
Yeah! I ended up placing!
How many other moustaches were you up against?
Well, there are twelve different classes. They divide it all up into special categories like: Sideburns, full-beard, natural full-beard, full-beard with styling… all these different categories.
What were you in?
Mine was called the Imperial category, and there’s all these specifics that came with it, like, you can’t have any other facial hair anywhere else except this one area of your face, and it can only go out from the corner of your mouth one centre meter…
So, they standardize it to make it all fair and legit?
Yeah, otherwise people would find ways to cheat.
Sounds pretty serious!
They are serious about it, man! Dudes who compete, like, these traditional Norwegians and these Dutch guys, oh my god! It’s their life! It’s insane.
And you just rolled up for the first time ever and came in 2nd! How many people were in your category?
In mine? I think it was about 55. But in the whole contest there were about 400.
Your moustache club must have been pretty stoked. What’s the club called by the way?
It’s called ‘The Bristly Chaps of Los Angeles’. It’s basically one of these fraternal orders of homies.
How does it all go down? Do you meet?
Yeah, we call a meeting and then we all meet at a bar.
How often?
When there’s a reason, like, if there’s some project happening someone will call a meeting and we’ll all hang out.
And what do you do?
Shoot the shit. Talk about our journeys and our adventures and our moustache lives. It’s just an excuse to go to a bar and hang out with dudes you wouldn’t normally hang out with.
That’s cool, but what happens if you shave your stuff off? Do you get kicked out of the club? Is there a beat-down?
No, you’re not out of the club, man. You’re just… you’re just demoted in rank.
You’re scorned?
Kinda. Everyone’s like, “Oh man, you shaved?” There are a couple of actors (in the club) who sometimes shave. They’re like, “I had to shave it for a part.” And everyone else goes, “Weak. You’re a sell out.”
What are the advantages of having a moustache?
You know, I’ll tell ya, and this may sound fake, but, no matter what you do and where you go, people really take you seriously! They take every word you say as incontestable truth! I can pretty much lie about everything. When somebody’s got a moustache you give them a little bit more respect. They’re to be feared an honored.
Right! I noticed people treated me with more respect when I grew a big beard! Why do you think that happens?
Maybe they recognize that you have the fortitude to grow it out and deal with it?
It’s very real what ever it is. I also found, and this is really weird, that black women were friendlier towards me when I had a beard.
I get that too!
Really? I feel racist.
I’m sure women of all races are down for it but, yeah, I think that’s true.
Does your girlfriend like the moustache?
She’s into it… to an extent. Once it gets a bit big and ridiculous looking- she’s over it.
What are some of the worst things about having a moustache? What sucks?
Eating.
Getting food stuck in it.
Yeah. And, dude, sometimes I’ll be flossing and a strand will go in and act as floss. It’ll get stuck…
Between your teeth?
Yeah, and it’ll get ripped out.
Gross.
Yeah. So, mostly it just eating, flossing, and making-out. Everything else I can deal with.
Do you get tired of people mentioning it and looking at it?
Yeah. It’s like being a girl with giant fake boobs. It’s kinda all they look at.
So what’s your plan for the next championships? Are you gonna come in 1st?
Hell yeah, man! It’s in Norway in 2011.
It’s two years away?
Yeah, so I’ve got some time.
What’s better- winning a skate contest or a moustache contest?
Man, I have to say the moustache contest.
Yeah?
Yeah.
There’s no greater moment in a young man’s life than when it occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, the family dog will tow him down the street on a skateboard.
I remember when that light bulb went on for me. We had a German Shepherd named Zeus, and when I clipped on his leash and stepped onto my little plastic banana-board he glanced over his shoulder with a look that said, “Jeez! About time, Einstein!”
And then, without any provocation, he took off like a rocket.
This silent auction is coming up on friday and I have a weird little piece in it- A short Q & A with pro skater and 2nd placer at The 2009 World Moustache & Beard Championships- Patrick Melcher. It comes framed with a nice photo of Patrick. We might even sign it.
You should go and bid because there’s a bunch of great stuff on offer AND you’ll be contributing toward a worthy cause-
Prostate cancer.
For more information go to www.movember.com
So far we’ve received nothing in the way of entries for our design-a-bong competition, and I have to assume it’s because the offer of an actual prize hasn’t been extended.
We do so like the allure of the carrot, don’t we? Okay then. Let the prize be…
A lifetime subscription to Wooooo! How about that? Lifetime means for as long we keep publishing, and as I’ve said many times-
We’ll never stop publishing.
Second prize can be a lucky dip in my ‘Top Drawer of Mystery’ (below)
Third prize can be… a small leatherette pouch filled with… Swedish Fish.
Now let’s get those bongs built, photographed and sent in.
Love this song. Till tomorrow.
It’s 7:49 and I’m on cup No. #2. Can you imagine a world without coffee? I can, and it’s a real shit-hole.
Monday is almost my favorite day of the week to wake up, suck down a coffee, read the papers-the papers and get on with it.
You know why? Because it’s a new week! A new start! Another chance to get it right.
Unfortunately I’m getting it wrong already- I can’t decide on anything to talk about. The return of exstacy? That racist thing that happened in Australia? Why the pigeons have suddenly decided that my AC is a primo location for backing one out?
I’ll go with pigeons.
Why have they (the pigeons), after all these years, decided to descend on my Air Con and cover it in a thick blanket of merde?
Filthy. I was looking into buying an air-rifle yesterday. I figure I’ll start picking the squalid bastards off one by one.
Or better yet- an air-pistol! I can think of nothing better than parking myself on the couch first thing in the morning, the window wide open, coffee in one hand, Gamo PT-80 Tactical Air-pistol in the other, taking potshots at the rat-birds.
This evil little bastard has a laser system! Six feet away with a laser? That’s fish in a barrel, baby!
Dirty, filthy little fish in a barrel, and I am going to kill them. Kill them to death. Or at least wind them. HAHAHAHAH.
And when I’m finished with the pigeons I’ll take aim at my pet Fennec Fox. Just kidding. How cute is this little bugger though?
I can’t believe that there’s a big eared fox you can keep as a pet! Apparently they get along well with other pets, but because of their enormously playful and energetic nature they tend to tire them out. They also have a habit of hiding food and borrowing into furniture. Serious.
For the record, I would never, ever shoot an air rifle at an animal that wasn’t a pigeon or a rat.
I would use one of these-
What? It’s just a pellet-gun! They don’t even hurt… much. And I’d never use a Fennec Fox as a shooting target.
I’d use him to round up the cat… but then again, the cat would probably just fuck with him.
This is awesome. A pair of wild foxes playing on a trampoline.
Aaaaaaaand I’m out.
The new issue of Monster Children is out! And the Spike Jonze/Where The Wild Thing Are cover story is brilliant!
12 pages of behind the scenes photos and a truly mind-blowing Q&A. This is by far the greatest interview ever.
That’s it for the week. Sorry hombres, too much shit to do.
x
Jinx Dawson, lead singer of 60′s satanic-psych group Coven, and champion of the second person singular pronoun ‘thou’, is selling one of her many spell books on Ebay. How do I know? I’m friends with her on Bookface. That’s her on the left, way back when women knew how to be infernal aaand chic.
If you’re unfamiliar with Coven I recommend you get a copy of their 1969 album, Witchcraft (Destroys Minds and Reaps Souls), and lie on the floor in the dark until you can’t take it anymore.
I think I mentioned in a previous post that Witchcraft is my go-to LP for fishing trips. I have it on repeat the whole time I’m out. There’s nothing quite like hauling an indignant 450 Lb Marlin over the stern while ‘Dignitaries of Hell‘ howls away in the background.
I’m actually planning another angling jaunt in the Florida Keys with my good friend, and washed-up TV star Kirk Cameron. Kirk is a full-tilt, starry-eyed, Christian evangelist these days, but he also has a sweet-ass boat, so whatever. Generally he’s cool and keeps his Jesus talk to himself. However, last time we went out on the Keys he got a little preachy with me about my rum, coke, grass and Coven thing.
“Hey” he said, gingerly turning his reel three clicks. “They put satanic messages in rock music. Did you know that? They call it ‘backmasking’.” The noonday sun hammered down on us like a heavy bastard. A bead of sweat trickled into my left eye. Ash from my jazz-cigarette blew into my right. Kirk farted. I spilt my daiquiri. It was all too much. I leapt from my seat. “Backmasking? Are you fucking kidding me, Cameron? This song’s called ‘Pact With Lucifer’! No one’s hiding any messages there!”
“I was just sayin’ is all!” He countered.
“I’ve had it with your judgmental bullshit, Kirk!” I growled. “This time you’ve gone too far!” I stormed into the cabin and emerged seconds later with the flare gun, which I pointed directly at his face. “Say one more thing about Jesus! One more thing, Kirk, and I swear, I’ll send you off to meet him!”
Suddenly, as fate would have it, the boat pitched to starboard and I lost my footing. Kirk was up in a flash with his bowie knife against my throat, pushing me over the gunwale. “Jesus is Lord, brother.” He hissed. “Perhaps you forgot?”
“Don’t be a fool, Cameron!” I said. “You can’t kill me now! Not before I tell you where Alan Thicke and I hid the Diamond of Mumbahboo!” He blinked back at me suspiciously. “Yeah, that’s right.” I said. “Me an Alan have been hangin’ out, an we’ve got a giant diamond! How’d you like that?”
“You guys have been hanging without me? Really?” A sadness came all over him in hot wet blobs, and he let the knife fall to the deck. I instantly had him in a headlock. “You’re such a sucker, Kirk. As if I’d be caught dead with that knob-end Thicke!”
“What about the Diamond of Mumbahboo?” He grunted as his wind pipe crumpled. “Where did you hide it?”
“The Diamond of Mumbahboo?” I laughed. “Oh my God! I made that shit up, you stupid fucking twit!”
Just then my rod came to life! Wait, that sounds weird… At that moment I got an erection! Nah, that doesn’t sound right either…
Suddenly, as fate would have it once more, my reel jolted to life and began spinning madly! Oh yes, I had a big one.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I said, and released Kirk from my death-grip. “Holy shit!” said Kirk. “You’ve got something there!” He was right. Hours later, after a long and treacherous fight, I pulled in a 2700 LB Blue Marlin. It was the largest Blue Marlin ever caught in the history of sport fishing, and it was marvelous.
True story, mother-fucker. Thanks for stickin’ round.
You can relive this classic moment in fishing by watching the two videos below simultaneously. Turn the volume off the bottom one.
If you look down to yesterday’s post you’ll notice I’ve cut the whole part about infanticide saving you money. Personally I thought it was hilarious. However, my ol’ lady deemed it grizzly and disturbing, so it’s gone. Normally I wouldn’t bow to any form of censorship, but she was legitimately distressed, and I’d like to make babies with her one day soon, so…
I think it was “the whumping sound of hickory on soft bone.” that freaked her out the most. I got a bit James Ellroy. Anyway, it’s gone now.
Moving right along.
Satan. What’s he all about then? Let’s take a closer look.
Totally kidding. Let’s move on.
So, that build a bong competition we announced last week? No entries! What’s wrong? I’ve got Google Analytics. I know how many people visit per day, and it’s enough that, statistically, at least eight of you are stoners.
Let’s get those entries in!
Oh yeah, what do you win IF you win…
How about a holiday in Afghanistan? This is what the ground looks like over there. Like, everywhere. Really. This photo was taken somewhere along the Afghan/Pakistan border. Apparently it’s “against Islam” to smoke it. Which is a shame because I think everyone in that region of the world could use a little R & R. I’m assuming US troops are hooking into it as much as possible. I know I would be. It’d make those MRE meals a whole lot tastier.
The US military do random drug testing, apparently. So chances are, if you smoke you’ll get busted and sent home… where there’s a shower and a soft bed… and food… and no one shoots at you.
I read that Generation Kill, and the war is far more awful than I could ever have imagined. If I was over there I’d pull a Klinger. Seriously. Or just smoke my balls off (and yes, risk the lives of everyone in my unit. chill out.)
I just read that 5% of non-combat soldiers have tested positive for weed…
Guh. Gourmet Magazine was shut down yesterday. I can’t believe it! Another regular writing gig dries up leaving me even more penniless than I was before.
And what about this article I wrote for them? I just spent two weeks writing a piece on the myriad culinary applications of broiled tripe and ram’s balls for their next issue! What am I supposed to do with it now?
Fan-fucking-tastic. Next Cookie will take a dive and I won’t see a cent for the collection of thrifty-tips I just finished. It’s a list of cost-cutting ideas like- “Make shoes out of soup tins!” and “Why cut hair when you can just burn it?” etc…
Fuck. Cookie folded yesterday too. I’m screwed.
Incidentally, while all these publishing behemoths come crashing down one after the other, guess who’s not closing it’s doors?
Wooooo Magazine, bitch. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll keep churning out an issue every twelve months even if it kills us.
Seriously though, we’re really sorry to hear these mags have shut down. It’s a major bummer.
Now watch this guy. He’s awesome.
Yesterday’s nostalgic rant about zombies and skateboarding roused a flurry of write-ins from old dudes who wanna talk about it some more. We received this letter from a Derek Roth who wanted us to remember ‘Skidz’-
“Dear Wooooo,
What about Skidz! Do you guys remember Skidz?
Skidz!
Love, Derek.”
Indeed we do. Here’s a picture of some retardos enjoying Skidz in the not too distant past…
We also received a letter alerting us to this egregious breach of copyright… or trademark law… or whatever-
Fuckers. Well, I suppose things could be a shit-sight worse- Some jerk-off has turned Aurel Schmidt’s artwork into jewelry. She sent a group email out yesterday encouraging everyone to not support this act of “cultural vampirism”
Pretty weird. Normally they wait till you’re dead before they start raking your bones like vultures.
Anyway, cats, thats it for another day.
I’ve got an Autumn skate shop T-shirt that features a Zombie doing a hand-plant. It’s basically a homage to the old Valterra “Skate Zombie” graphic from 1987 (above). Perhaps you’ve seen it before? Perhaps you don’t know what I’m talking about. Chances are you don’t even care.
I thought it was the best t-shirt I had for inspiring fear in small children and the elderly, until today when I received my brand new
BORN UGLY Magazine T in the mail. Just look at it! Not only does it have a mean looking skeleton/zombie doing a little grab over my guts, it also has a big inverted crucifix in the background- Evil. Eviler still- the Daisy Duke cut-offs I’m wearing. Also known as my ‘House Shorts’ because I wear them year round in the privacy of my home.
Tré evil, no? And pretty filthy. I yanked that pic off the BU website. That’s not my filth… just so you know.
BORN UGLY is a FREE Skate Zine coming out of Richmond VA. Go to their website and hassle them for stickers like I did.
The ever enduring zombie aesthetic in skateboarding. I wanna say it’s flourished in the last couple of decades, but really, it just sort of… resumed. If it ain’t broke- don’t fix it. Here’s the Foundation Skateboards 2009 Zombie Series designed by the amazing Chris Hope- 22 years after the Valterra Skate Zombie, but still sooo goood.
Fuck! I just spent nearly two hours looking at Zombie related bullshit on the web. Gotta get to werk. Here’s a random video to fill this post out.
Have a great Monday!
Cigarettes are excellent. I don’t smoke them anymore, but when I did, my god, did I adore them.
I started on John Player Specials when I was about 16 and then moved on to Chesterfiels, Pall Malls, Benson & Hedges Extra lights, Marlboro 100s, filterless Camels, and then finally settled on what would become my one true love throughout the 90′s- Peter Styvesant lights, or “Styvos”
I was a two-pack-a-week man in those days. I’d have my first one around noon and then one every two hours or so after that. I loved a cigarette after dinner, or after sexual intercourse with a lady, or with a cold beer and a bullshit session. But most of all I liked a salty-lipped one, sitting in the sun after a dip in the sea. Ahhh… You know what I’m talking about.
When I turned 27 I quit because of a pact I’d made with myself years before- If I wasn’t dead or rich by 27 I’d give the fags up…
and quit smoking too. Nyuk, nyuk.
The first week of no smokes was pretty hideous- moodiness, bizarre laughing fits, I couldn’t shit to save my life, coffee tasted stupid, etc… but then after that it was smooth sailing.
I saw this ad in the back of an old magazine this morning, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same one that turned me onto Styvos in the first place. It’s absolutely brilliant. Why wouldn’t you smoke?
Oh yeah. Mouth cancer.
Watch this commercial from the 80′s and tell me you don’t want a cigarette… or an underwater adventure with a beautiful woman… or just a blow job behind a bus shelter. What? you know what I mean. Seriously though, why wouldn’t you smoke?
Oh yeah. Eye Herpes.
Anyway, see you cats at the NY Art Book Fair tomorrow. If you wanna an earn a few bucks walking around with a box saying, “Back issues of Wooooo! Half price! Get ‘em while they’re hot!” Let us know. We’ll hook you up.