For centuries, a rite of passage for French gourmets has been the eating of the Ortolan. These tiny birds—captured alive, force-fed, then drowned in Armagnac—were roasted whole and eaten that way, bones and all, while the diner draped his head with a linen napkin to preserve the precious aromas and, some believe, to hide from God.

– The Wine Spectator

A friend told me about Ortolan last year and I just had to try it. I flew to France and found a man named Pierre Lá Plu-plu, the world’s number one connoisseur of all things forbidden and edible, and we sat down, cloaked our heads, and ate about three Ortolans each. Disgusting, really, but that’s just how it goes: do you want to be a sponge or a stone?
Bad week. I’ve had two bicycles stolen in under five days. Both of them were nicked at the same spot outside my apartment, and both of them, foolishly enough, were tethered with the same style of Kryptonite lock. Fool me once: shame on me. Fool me twice: I’ll set you a fucking trap. I’ll lock another bike up, but I’ll douse the bugger in LSD 25, and I’ll wait round the corner. And when I’m sure you’ve got enough acid creeping through the skin on your hands to floor an elephant, I’ll come up behind you, tap you on the shoulder, and unload an entire can of Night Defender Pepper Gel into those creepy slits you call eyes. You’ll scream and put your hands to your face, and then I’ll club you over the spine with a cricket bat until I hear the loud crack that means your thoracic vertebrae are damaged beyond repair.
So there it is, you’ll be crippled and tripping for the rest of your natural life, you thieving piece of shit.
As you can probably tell, I’m not very happy. I like riding a bicycle around in summer time, but now I don’t have one because some bastard took it- twice. Fool me once: shame on me. Fool me twice: I’m going to get you.
Keep an eye on the New York Post police blotter for a badly beaten quadriplegic found lying in the street with three Burning Mans worth of acid clogging up his head. Then keep an eye out for headlines that read: DR. JUSTICE-BALLS STRIKES AGAIN! Because I plan to do some other stuff with trips and cricket bats and spines.
You just keep reading, doncha? I feel like I’m wasting your time.

Thanks Carl! And hello Froggy, you myopic little bundle of mischief!
If you have a cat, and you think he or she is worthy of ‘Cat of the Week’, send us a pic and a few words explaining what is so good about your cat. Or don’t.

In other news: we got this vid in the mail today from Taryn the transcriptionist…
I’m afraid the kids are most definitely not alright.

Disturbed much? Jesus.
Now, you may remember that a few posts ago I was collecting up all the Jim Morrisons on bookface. Well, I’m proud to say I’ve got about 370 now, and some of them are actually real people who just happen to be named Jim Morrison.
Here’s my top three. See you tomorrow or the next day…

I know. Shut up. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. You wouldn’t believe the shit that’s been going down over here. Hectic. We’re really sorry… Why am I apologizing? You probably haven’t been here for two weeks! Where the F have you been, huh? I don’t know why I bother.

Man, do you ever wonder where that body building sax player from The Lost Boys is now? I do. What about Perry Farell’s girlfriend from The Gift: Where is she now? What about Paul from The Wonder Years: Where the F is he? What? ‘Who cares?’ Me, man! Unfortunately.
I just finished reading JAWS for what must be the tenth time. It’s so good. I’ll bet you’ve never read it. No one has. Everyone thinks I’m stupid for recommending it. Well. let me remind you, brother, that the book was on the New York Times best seller list for a year, and then they made it into a movie! Such a rad book. Wait… The asian guy from 21 Jump St: Where in tarnation is that motherfucker? I think he played Bruce Lee in that Bruce Lee biopic, what was it called? They Call Me Bruce? Whatever; it was hilarious. Bruce Lee is great. “He who loses his temper will look like a dickhead eventually” Bruce Lee said that, and I live by it… or at least agree with it for the most part.
Seriously sorry about the lack of activity on the blog. It’s been hard to keep a boner going while all this other shinanigans has been going down. Nothing bad; just busy.
Here’s a song.

Hey! They found the remains of a 200 year old ship under the World Trade Centre construction site! How weird is that?
But first, here’s a message from Uncle Dale.

Our buddy Norm has launched an online project called shareyourbadart.com. Basically it’s an online gallery of turds, submitted by anyone who has an embarrassingly bad piece of artwork they created. And it can be anything: a film, a painting, a poem, a sculpture made our of chicken wire; it just has to suck. Norm kicked it off with a song he wrote and recorded at the age of 21 (or so he says) entitled “Out of the Day”. According to Norm, it’s “a song I recorded around the tender age of 21 on a four track recorder – a song influenced by the Velvet Underground, vividly detailing the lethargy that came from shooting heroin in the afternoon – this coming from a guy who’s on a steady diet of cheetos and diet coke, not smack.” We actually dug “Out of the Day”. It’s not bad… Actually, it’s terrible, but that’s good!
Listen Here.
I’ve got a ton of shameful “art” that I’ve “crafted” over the “years”… Just have to dig it up.
What else, what else…
BOOK CLUB!
So I’m reading Tobias Wolff’s Old School again because it’s brilliant. That concludes book club.

Right. I’m off to see the Leon Levinstein show at the Met. Leon Levinstein is an unheralded master of street photography, best known for his candid and unsentimental black-and-white figure studies made in New York City neighborhoods from Times Square and the Lower East Side to Coney Island. This exhibition, drawn exclusively from the Metropolitan’s collection, will feature some forty photographs that reflect the artist’s fearless approach to the medium. Levinstein’s graphic virtuosity—seen in raw, expressive gestures and seemingly monumental bodies—is balanced by his unusual compassion for his offbeat subjects from the demimonde. Really.

Our old buddy Porous Walker has made a cartoon! We spotted this over at forestcityrockers. So good!

I Want A Dog That Poops Money from Eighty Four Films on Vimeo.

That’s all. Bye!

Zanimal is back!

Wait! No it doesn’t! This is awesome! Aaron Rose is doing his teen workshop again! Man, I sure wish I was still a teenager discovering the world and myself, having feelings I don’t understand, growing hair in weird places, collecting towels under my bed…
According to the ‘About’ page on the website, Make Something School “BEGAN IN 2008 AS A SERIES OF YOUTH CREATIVE WORKSHOPS HELD IN NEW YORK, LOS ANGELES, SAN FRANCISCO, MIAMI AND TOKYO. WORKING WITH PUBLIC SCHOOL ART PROGRAMS AND YOUTH MENTORING ORGANIZATIONS, THE GOAL OF MAKE SOMETHING!! IS TO PARTNER WORLD-RENOWNED CREATIVE PERSONALITIES WITH YOUNG ASPIRING ARTISTS WITH THE INTENTION OF GIVING HANDS-ON PRACTICAL SKILLS. OUR FOCUS IS ON CONNECTING THE IDEAS BEHIND DIY (DO-IT-YOURSELF) CREATIVITY WITH THE ARTISTS OF TOMORROW INCORPORATING ELEMENTS OF ART, DESIGN, MUSIC, FASHION AND FILM INTO OUR PROGRAMS. SINCE ITS INCEPTION, OVER 2,000 HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS HAVE NOW TAKEN PART IN MAKE SOMETHING!! WORKSHOPS. WE HAVE PLANS TO OPEN A LOS ANGELES-BASED PERMANENT CREATIVE SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE NEAR FUTURE.”
Awesome, no? And the teachers this year are ridiculous: Tommy Guerrero, Mike Mills, Ed Templeton, KAWS, Jesse Spears…. etc, etc,. Stop picking your face and check it out!

Poor old Johnny Thunders; wound up dead under a coffee table in a New Orleans hotel; bent up like a pretzel, they say. Sad. Had this song in my head this morning. So good.
Anyway, that’s it for Thursday. Got things to see and people to do. Swear there’s a new issue coming out soon. We’re not just a blog these days. Watch this space. Next issue is killer, and it’s in the pipeline, like it or not.

Everyone’s freaking out about the ‘heat-wave’. “It’s almost 100 degrees!” they say; “I can’t take it any longer!” they say; “I’m going to kill myself!”
I have to admit that I’ve been washed along with the heat-wave hysteria too; I thought I was going to go crazy from the hotness of it all. But then I looked at how hot it was in celsius and realized that it’s only about 35º. Let me know when it hits 40. Pussies.
I’m just kidding; it is really hot. I’m going crazy.
In other news, BP are doing some ‘extended reach’ drilling in the Arctic. They’ve built a little Island out of gravel, three miles off the coast, and connected it to the mainland via a causeway. Ipso facto: they’re technically not drilling offshore… even though they are. Is that majorly fucked up, or is it just me?
They’re planning to drill two miles down through their little island and then drill sideways for another eight miles, or until they hit the 105 million barrels of oil they think is down there. This is the longest ‘extended reach’ operation ever attempted, and they’re doing it in the Arctic…
If they fuck this one up it’ll really suck; it’s not easy to get oil spill relief into the tundra; it’s frozen more than half the year…
Business Week reported that despite the well being approved as “onshore” drilling, BP must comply with the offshore drilling safety laws, but whatever, isn’t there a moratorium in effect?
Nice moratorium, President OButt-head.
The hole in the Gulf of Mexico is growing bigger, by the way, because of all the rock fragments coming out with crude. It’s sort of like a sand blaster effect; the rocks are slowly wearing the edges of the hole further out. AAAAAAAAAAAGH! It’s the end of the world. Suck me off.
Now, see how long you can watch this unbearable shit.

Half a million hits on that video; seriously.
We are going to hell. See you tomorrow.

Raising a son, looking after a retarded uncle, writing, illustrating, and running NJ Skateshop should be more than enough for Chri$ Nieratko to worry about, but he still finds time to dole out valuable fashion advice on a regular basis.
If it weren’t for Chri$, I’d be wearing a G-Star jump-suit and a Mr. T feather earring.
You’ll be pleased to know we’re publishing Chri$’ advice here, verbatim, in a new weekly thing called…

Dear Chri$,
Damion from Denver wants your thoughts on flip-flops.

Damion, Flip flops are reserved for women with pretty feet and men who have had their legs amputated and replaced with those fake plastic feet. Mannequin feet; not those spatula feet that the legless runners use (although i would like to see how fast some of those runners could flip burgers on my grill).
But if you have ugly feet, and this goes for men and women, no flip flops. no sandals, no opened toed anything.
Wear Vans slip-ons. Wear them in the water. Wear them out of the shower. Wear them anywhere, any time you might have the notion of exposing your toes.
There’s a reason that that deodorant company coined the phrase, “Never let them see your feet”: its disgusting.
And socks with flip flops are only acceptable as an accessory to a Hitler-On-Vacation Halloween costume.
My right foot has 5 semi-green toe nails. do you want to see that slid into a pair of flip flops, walking around your patio? Doubt it.
What about closed-toe Birkenstocks?
All weapons of mass destruction should be aimed and tested on the Birkenstock factories.
What about really cool skate flip-flops like these? Screaming Hand; that’s OG.

Your ugly feet will cover the picture, thus negating any cool factor you think you might have had.

Have a fashion enquiry? Hit us up, and we’ll see to it that Chri$ gives you the answers.

Still enjoying some well deserved time off from everything and everyone. See you tomorrow or something.

Ben Selway from Cornwall Egland wrote to say- in regards to clowns- that he’d “‘Human Centipede’ their asses….but instead of 3, i’d sew a row of ten together. I’d feed the front one on a mixture of asparagus, sizzling hot curry and Guinness and watch it work is way to the back. Then we’ll see who’s fucking laughing! After, I’d probably just watch some T’V or something.”
I had to look up ‘Human Centipede’ on the internet, and I was shocked. Ben Selway, you sick bastard, well done.
Do you want to kill a clown? Who doesn’t? Clowns are scum. Write and tell us how you’d take out a clown.
Best dead clown wins a T-shirt!
Now, watch this kid shoot a clown right in the eye with a pellet gun.
It is, in a word, exquisite.

Suck it, Clown. I think the death penalty should be extended to those who even entertain the idea of being a clown; evil pricks.
Here’s a poem I wrote about how much I hate clowns.

Isn’t it rich?
Aren’t we a pair?
Me holding a baseball bat,
You in mid-air.
Waste all the clowns.

Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it queer?
Trunk-load of dead clowns, drive off a cliff.
And where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don’t bother – I killed them.

Have a great 4th of July weekend! What are you doing looking at this?
Party on!
How’s this chick? Steel-trap Sally. Fucking hell. Krystal Cole, reporting from the brink of madness.

Thursday. 11:55 am. Another idea: Clown Porn. Wait! Someone already did it.
That’s pretty much how it goes with pornography genres: if you can think it- it’s out there. Smurf porn? Yup. Vampire? Duh; yes. Nun? consider it done. Musical porn? Yes. Seriously; there are x-rated movies featuring people performing sexual acts while singing in three point harmony. Welcome to planet earth.
But what’s my point? There’s no point really, I just wanted images of clowns fucking the crap out of each other to flash through your mind. I hate clowns. I could kill a clown. I can scarcely imagine shooting a dog, but I could very easily garotte a clown. Coulrophobia it’s called; ‘an abnormal or exaggerated fear of clowns’, but I don’t think there’s anything abnormal about being deathly afraid of clowns; they’re terrifying! And they must die. They must all die.
The Kinks wrote a song called ‘Death of a Clown’ and it’s my favorite song ever. Do you know why? Because a fucking clown dies.
Fucking clowns… Watch this.
Anyway, now you know how I feel about clowns, let’s move on to how I feel about puppets, cuckoo clocks, twins, and bank tellers. Actually, let’s not.
Now, why is there a big picture of Nick Cave at the top of this meandering screed? Because he’s awesome. Look at that hair for Chrisake! Excellent.
12:55 Pm. Done.
Wait! How do YOU feel about clowns? Do you want to brutally murder them too? Please write and let us know. Best clown murder fantasy wins a T-shirt!

I just spent over an hour putting together a post and then when I published it… it was lame. So I deleted it all. Sorry. You wouldn’t have liked it anyway; it was beyond stupid, and not good stupid either.
In other news: the latest issue of Monster Children is out and you should go buy it. It is good, and I made some of the words in it; a couple of thousand, actually… No big whoop.

The ol’ lady is away in LA this weekend, so I’ve been drinking wine and making friends with the 500 Jim Morrisons of Facebook.
After you befriend your first 75 Jim Morrisons, in under four minutes, they (Bookface) hit you with a “type these two words in the box provided” security measure.
“Runway Somalias”
“Mazrin Atlanta”
“Mamboed its”
“Radios Efforts”
That’s the first four things I’ve had to write… messages from the Lizard King? Instructions from a sub-government body, perhaps? Or am I just your average garden variety schizophrenic? I’m kidnapping Antonio Banderas and taking him to The World of Coca Cola, regardless.
That reminds me: my Doors cover band- Indian Bummer- are playing a show at the Mercury lounge next week. Hope you can make it.
“Saloma Rice”
“Spinster Always”
“Ships Gone”
Weird.
Why am I befriending all the Jim Morrisons? Because I think it’s hilarious, and I also want to illustrate my complete and utter detestation of FB. It’s such a total waste of time; time surely better spent looking in the mirror or masturbating. Why don’t I quit, then? You ask too many questions, Pancho.
Speaking of hilarious, I just came up with a funny name for folk musician: Toots Mahogany. Just came to me then. Hilarious.
It’s hot-as-balls in NYC right now. Hot all day and hot all night. It’s getting hard to move around outside; it’s getting hard to even think outside: my thoughts seem to smear and dribble into one another, and they’re mainly thoughts about how awesomely hot it is. It’s nice to see all the bums developing amazingly healthy tans, though; and having pigeons follow your shadow to keep their feet cool is kinda cute; and dogs are sticking out their tongues more than usual, so that’s been good for stamps an’ stuff.
It’s Sunday, man. This is stupid. I’m out.

The best party of the summer is happening on Wednesday. Be there! I will. And you owe me a drink.

It’s the first day of Summer! And it’s go skateboarding day! Today! And I’m still not going skateboarding! Maybe I will… Maybe. I’m still really sore from my weekend on the Sex-Boat.
You should go skating, though. And you should also check this out: The A.skate Foundation.
Turns out skateboarding is awesomely therapeutic for kids with autism. I’m not surprised: skateboarding is hands-down the most enjoyable, meditative, calming-yet-stimulating activity I know of. It’s like swimming with dolphins but not gay. Maybe that’s just me. Check A.skate out though, especially if you know someone who could benefit from knowing about it.
You can read a good article about what A.skate does HERE.

That’s enough goodwill and nicey-nice for one post; let’s get into the penis jokes.
Actually, no; let’s talk about the Gulf of Mexico and the end of the world, and how everyone’s thinking maybe God is real, and perhaps he’ll help us out… ehhh, fuck that noise, too.
BOOK CLUB? Okay. But be warned: I’m on a Wolfe binge right now; the dude is everything you could ever want in a writer, and that much more. At first, when I saw pictures of Tom Wolfe, I thought, “Mascot for Gay Toothpaste”, but then I didn’t know how seriously radical to the trillionth power he was. Speaking of TRILLIONS, congratulations Afghanistan! Sure it’ll all work out in your favor, and you wont be a shit-hole anymore. What? Right, Tom Wolfe. So anyways, like I said, I’ve been on a heavy Wolfe binge and it’s been great. How great is it when you find an author you really like and he or she has a bibliography longer than Sultan Kösen’s love-flute? Very great, is what.
Have you noticed that BOOK CLUB! isn’t really a book review? It’s just me saying what I’m reading. So gay.
That’s three “Gay”s, by the way, and I don’t care: my mom’s a lesbian. You gotta laugh to keep from crying. Just kidding. I love you Brenda.
The Pump House Gang is another collection of essays and journalism exploring counter culture; 60′s counter culture. No, not just hippies on acid having sex and giving each other scabies; tons of other stuff. Read it. It looks like this.

Now, what ever happened to these guys?

Despite raising a son, looking after a retarded uncle, writing, illustrating, and running NJ Skateshop, Chri$ Nieratko still finds time to give me fashion advice on a regular basis.
If it weren’t for Chri$, I’d look like Keith Urban (pardon my French).
Now you too can look less like a douche, because we’re publishing Chri$’ advice here, verbatim, in a new weekly thing called…

Chri$,
As you know, I’m in my very early 30s. Can I still wear a baseball cap backwards? My girlfriend says “go for it” but my friends say I look like an adult playing a child in a comedy sketch.
Oh no, no, no, NOOOO, N-O, nay-no, nyet, negative. You shouldn’t even be wearing baseball caps anymore unless youre attending a baseball game and want to fit in.
Grow the fuck up.
Backwards?
hahahahahahha
Lose my email.
But Max Schaaf wears a hat backwards all the time, and he’s gotta be 50!
Hmmm. Good point. But he rides a motorcycle. I think it comes with the leather jacket… And you probably want to wear a fittted hat. Just wear it straight and stop fucking around.
WE’RE IN A RECESSION GODDAMIT, JASON!
THIS IS NOFUCKING TIIME FOR BACKWARDS HATS!
IF MAX SCHAAF JUMPS OFF A BRIDGE, ARE YOU GOING TO JUMP?
what about forwards but with the visor tilted up a-la Suicidal Tendencies?

Bro.

What about just no hat and a sensible haircut?
Now you’re speaking the language of god fearing people everywhere.
DBF, Jason, DBF. Dont Be a Faggot.
Hang on, man. what do you call this?
Thats a hat!

That is a miltary issued hat, worn by a retired miltary man.
If you fall into that category, by all means.
BUT YOU WEREN’T THERE, JASON!
You got no idea what its like to have a man beg for his life, only to laugh at him and you say, “no.”
You’re like the fuckin hat guy on google images!
I used to be a hat model. I got paid for to take those photos.
If youre getting paid to wear your hat,
THEN BY ALL MEANS, JASON.
wear the hat.
stop saying my name in all-caps, CHRI$!
JASON,
all i can say is when it hits the fan
do you want to be wearing a logo on your forehead?
How short should my shorts be then? Right now they’re an inch above my knee, but I think I can get away with going much higher.
Your shorts should never be above your ankle, and by saying that I mean grown ass men should never wear shorts, only pants. If god intended men to show off their legs he wouldn’t have covered them with hair and lard. shorts are a no no. unless swimming, in which case you should change as quickly as possible and run to the water so as not to offend people with your ugly, pastey white or black legs. when finished swimming, run back to your pants and get in them as fast as you can. we are men. we don’t wear shorts.
What about if I just cut the bottoms off my pants so I can get some air on my ankles?
Im going to choose to ignore that question.
What about shorts and then tube socks pulled up to your knees, ah-la Dave Navarrette?
what the fuck is wrong with you?
What am I saying?
No shorts. Period.
Yeah, i’ve seen the baddest dudes run that NoCal look where the shorts nearly touch the tube socks leaving only an inch of leg exposed.
I say, “why bother?” you want to cover your legs? wear pants. not white panty hose.

(If you’d like some advice on what you can and can’t wear- hit me up and I’ll make sure Chri$ helps you out)

Almost forgot, we’re starting a secret society… details soon…

Parker Brothers, the board game manufacturer now owned by Hasbro, still make and sell Ouija boards.
Growing up, I thought Ouija boards we’re only available at weird hippy stores, but you can pick one up at Wallmart, and I think that’s weird.
My mother tells a story about a friend of hers who played with a Ouija board in the 1970′s and went mad. Apparently she started contacting the ‘spirit world’ all alone at night and they (the spirits) told her she was going to die in a matter of days. Naturally, she went bonkers and they had to lock her up. I don’t think she’s in the loony bin anymore, but still- thanks Parker Brothers… and ghosts… and probably schizophrenia… and also the creepy dude who invented the Ouija board in the first place…
In 1890 Elijah J Bond created and patented the first modern Ouija Board. The following year he sold the rights to the entrepreneur William Fuld, who made the board famous by shopping it around like a mother-fucker. In 1966 Parker Brothers purchased the rights to the Ouija Board and sold more than 2 million units in the first year of production. The Ouija board- a game about contacting long dead relatives and celebrities- actually outsold Monopoly in 1966. That’s weird.
What’s even weirder, Ouija boards date back to the 4th century and the time of the Roman Emperor Valens. Valens was all about talking to ghosts with his buddies and getting freaked out. He was also all about being beaten and burned to death by barbarians. The 4th century was ages ago, literally, but Ouija boards were also used before that by the Greeks, way back when Jesus was just a twinkle in whoever it was that got Mary pregnant’s eye. My point is: Ouija boards have been around since before Christ, but you can go buy one at Toys ‘R Us- today. That’s weird. Don’t tell me it isn’t, because it is. Yeah Chess has been around longer… probably… but Chess has nothing to do with talking to ghosts. Get a grip.
Right now for around $19.99 Hasbro have a ‘glow-in-the-dark’ Ouija board for sale… It looks like this:

That’s creepy as hell; not as creepy as this, but still pretty creepy.
Once again, I’ve freaked myself out before lunch time, so I’m ending the post here and getting on with my life. Thanks titty-city for the picture at the top of the page. x
Don’t ferget: Go Skate day is coming up! So.. go skate, you little buggers!