A little while ago, DQM announced their official skate team, and they just recently put out this part with Curtis Rapp, another in a small handful of champions of the impossible (check the ender if you have any doubts). Here’s hoping these little clips become a trend, as it were, for the brand, since this one is fucking great.
For whatever reason, this reminds me of skate videos from years past, back when I was an eager teenager who thought that one day I might actually be able to land some of the tricks therein. It’s not that the trick selection isn’t impressively modern, because Curtis Rapp’s skill + style level is obviously quite high, I think it has more to do with the fact that it isn’t filmed in eye-gasming HD. There’s a certain quality a degree of grain, blow out, and vignetting bring to film — interesting how these “artifacts” are often associated with low quality today, when in fact, the opposite is somewhat the case. Things look more authentic, more real, which is perhaps even more ironical.
You wouldn’t guess this based on my appearance these days (I’m the one on the right), but I spent most of my high school tenure feeding my pointless teenage angst with blaring punk rock. Obviously, this is long before I transformed into a confused white kid from the suburbs who listens to underground hip hop for thrills. Hopefully you can detect the sarcasm slathered all over that sentence. The truth is, Blackalicious just sounds better than The Casualties when you’re stoned. And I find myself stoned, like, a lot of the time.
The argument could also be made that Blackalicious just sounds better than The Casualties period, but I digress…
Pins / buttons are one of the holdovers from a punk rocker’s innate need to accessorize (often by putting spikes on, well, everything). This is perhaps for three reasons — they’re cheap (both for the buyer and the band producing them), they’re collectible and they’re versatile (jackets, shirts, pants, hats… I’ve seen people put these fucking things on everything, including flesh! Now that is what I think is typically referred to as “punk as fuck”).
To this day, I’ve been unable to completely abandon a studded belt’s place in my closet, but somewhere along the line I gave buttons the boot. But I’ve decided that’s maybe just because the right pins didn’t exist. So, soon enough you’ll be able to put some Dedleg pins on some flesh, or article of clothing, of your very own. However, as the potential candidates are effectively endless, I put it to you, the Dedleg faithful, to choose which designs you’d like to see adorning your tattered leather motorcycle jacket or Aus-Rotten butt flap, if you’re into that sort of thing.
I’m going to be producing a run of pin packs, that will include 5 or 6 different designs, so vote on all the designs you like, not just one. May the best pins win, and live to see the light of day, while the castoffs are left to fade into the abject darkness of blog archive obscurity.
Thought this photo of Chris Pastras bombing a hill from the inimitable Chrome Ball Incident’s latest interview was just too great to not pass along.
As cliché as it sounds, I don’t really live in the world to look for reactions. I just do what I want to do and carefully choose what I think is right at the time.
Carefully choosing what is right at the time can save you some pain on a hill run, as long as you can choose quickly. Damn quickly. Speed wobbles wait for no man. Take a peek at that board he’s riding, and then you can begin to understand my concern. Ironic that he created Stereo when it looks like he’s actually the one with a deathwish if you get my meaning
Isn’t it awesome to wake up from the food coma of a century only to find out it’s Monday morning? The long holiday weekend was disgusting, slothful, unproductive… in a word: blissful. And then the work week comes along and snatches your freedom away once more. Fucking Indian givers…
Maybe that was too punny for 8:30 am on Monday. Maybe I’m so ballsy that I went there anyway. Ballsy, that’s a literary device for those of you who never took a writing workshop.
Considering the ridiculous amount of time I spend in an average day consuming, and subsequently regurgitating, skateboarding in some form or another, it would be remiss of me to neglect mention of Leo Romero’s acquisition of highly coveted Skater of the Year status. In a subculture where awards and accolades of all kinds aren’t supposed to matter, one thing is certain — Thrasher Magazine’s Skater of the Year award, like, kind-of-sort-of matters. That’s a bit of an understatement, but it’s cool to act like you don’t care about anything. Seriously though, Skater of the Year means much more than just “this was the best/hardest working/most man-crush-worthy skateboarder this year.” It actually means “this is one of the best skateboarders of all time.” SOTY status is official legend status, and any attempt to dispute that fact gives you official grumposaurus status.
Seeing as the dude put out two knockout video parts in a time when pros spend 5 years complaining about how hard it is to film for just one, I’d say Leo more than earned it. I mean, really, the dude grinds up rails. I’m still trying to figure out how to go down them.
Apparently, he’s good at backside 180ing out of backside nosegrinds as well.
Still holding out hope for Jereme Rogers… oh well, maybe next year homie.
Oh, and if you hadn’t picked up on it… I just officially earned sarcasm status.
Well, it’s Black Friday, one of our culture’s many absurd tributes to grotesque heights of consumerism. Fitting that it comes on the heels of a holiday designed to celebrate eating as much as physically possible in an effort to prove how thankful you are for your ability to eat as much as physically possible, unlike all those ugly poor people all over the world who have probably never even seen a roast turkey, let alone entertained the idea of waiting in line at Walmart at 4am in order to procure another flatscreen TV.
Thankfully, not everyone is so enslaved by material things. This man had the idea (and the ludicrous amount of free time) to honor something more timeless, more important, more… brutal: Slayer.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and bet that’s the house on the block none of the church kids go caroling at. In the video’s description, the author says he’s been a Slayer fan for 20 years and that creating this abomination of light and color took him a long time. While I’m creating this man’s entire life story in my imagination, I’m just going to go ahead and assume that means 20 years, and that this spectacle is the culmination of a two-decade-long reign of blood.
For real though, I hope he got those lights on sale, ‘cuz they were fucking giving them shits away at CVS today with any purchase over 100 dollars. Now that’s a good deal.
This seemed like kind of a “duh” move as far as I’m concerned — in honor of today’s meat-slaughtering festivities, here’s the fake trailer for the fake holiday-themed horror movie Thanksgiving from the real movie Grindhouse:
And just for good measure, here’s the trailer for Don’t as well, since this one is actually the funnier of the two, in my opinion:
By the way, Hollywood, if you’re thinking of turning either of these into a feature length (ala Machete)… don’t. Okay, actually… maybe Thanksgiving, but what can I say? I’m a sucker for some stuffing.
Posts will be a bit scarce until Monday, since I’ve been dipping into the mulled wine a little early this holiday. I’m taking a much needed break from the Interweb (not counting Facebook, email, videos of people falling, online shopping, pictures of furries and basically everything except this website). This year, I’m thankful for not traveling with a laptop. Indeed, as thankful as I am for the absurd amount of technology my reasonably comfortable lifestyle has afforded, I’m also thankful to get some time away from it.
Tour videos from the Crailtap camp are always something to look forward to. Their lovely edit chronicling the recent Der Bratwurst Tour Ever through Germany was posted on Monday, so chances are good you’ve already seen it, started your own blog, and reviewed the video on said blog. For real, it’s already got over 34 thousand plays, which is like, nearly everybody on the Internet I think. But, on the off chance you haven’t caught this posted on the Tap or another extremely hip blog, well, you can count on me to come along with some motherfucking leftovers. I know, I know, leftovers already and it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet. Our wallets, and our belts, are all going to be a little tighter this year, children.
Now, I try not to be one to look free footage in the mouth (does footage have a mouth? Well, it does now), and Ty Evans has always been known for his distinct and sometimes kind of annoying editing, but I find myself a bit torn on how the footage was delivered here, particularly in the demo section towards the beginning of the video. Sure, it’s beautiful — it’s probably some of the best looking footage to ever come out of a badly lit warehouse skate park — but it’s also pretty distracting at times. Are we watching a skateboarding video or a music video? Weird that the two are often interchangeable these days…
Over the summer, I took a brief trip back into Wisconsin which I’ve been casually referring to as Megabus: Requiem for a Car Crash. Fortunately, this time around, our driver managed to actually stay on the road and nobody was maimed or otherwise harmed, which turned the 8-hour, cramped, soul-crushing ordeal into a relatively pleasant experience. So, I don’t have quite as many pictures of broken glass to remember it by, but here are some shots I took along the way as a kind of tribute to all my readers who will be spending the next couple days in and out of heavy traffic.
I eagerly await the day we can sit around the table as a family and give thanks for the advent of teleportation. I imagine it will be right before the black Christmas of 2025 where everybody gets their presents stolen by teleporting bandits. Just a hunch.
Apparently, taking photos through tinted windows can create some interesting results…
There’s a whole lot of America out there that looks just like this. Even the rest stops all look the same. We could have been driving in circles and I wouldn’t have realized until probably the fifth time we passed the same dead animal. Then again, if an exciting ride comes with the added cost of a window’s worth of glass exploding in your face, I wish you all very boring travels indeed.
Jurassic Park is readily acknowledged as one of Steven Spielberg’s best films, right alongside his other cinema milestones like Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Minority Report 2: Schindler’s List. However, people have a tendency to forget (this is actually entirely unconfirmed — I just have a tendency to forget) that Spielberg also directed JP’s kind of retarded little brother, The Lost World. Granted, it’s nowhere near as retarded as raptors with mohawks made of feathers… but that’s a discussion for another time.
Some amusing trivia from IMDb:
The Japanese tourists running from the rampaging T-Rex in the San Diego scene (an obvious homage to “Godzilla” movies) are saying in Japanese: “I left Japan to get away from this!“
This is also interesting, for those who give heed to reviews anyway: the film only netted a 49% — certifiably rotten — on Rotten Tomatoes, which actually makes it Spielberg’s lowest rated directorial effort. Andrew Howe of Film Written Magazine described the film as “a cheerless, heartless monstrosity” which, yeah, sounds bad but is actually kind of appropriate given the subject matter. On that note, Film Threat’s Tom Meek reviewed the film, saying, “Nothing extinct here, just pure dino-might!” Whew, now that’s a recommendation!
And hey, it’s not like being retarded is a bad thing, right? The Lost World is silly at times, yes… sometimes it’s downright dumb, but that’s also kind of what makes it so endearing and entertaining to watch. I mean, really, who couldn’t laugh at this face?