The Berrics’ “Off The Grid” series has proven to be a more-than-welcome addition to their ever-growing quiver of skateboarding web content, particularly considering it’s a much more relatable form of skateboarding to your average city skater than what goes on in an exclusive, professional-grade warehouse training facility in sunny California. The best installment yet features young Ishod Wair cruising through the streets of Philadelphia in a way that would make my cruising through the streets look more like sleep-walking, or perhaps even black-out-drunk-stumbling, leaning-over-a-gutter-with-puke-bits-stuck-in-my-beard, by comparison.
Hey there Josh Stewart, since I know you’re reading and all… hows about a new Static video with a full-on East Coast Ishod part? Call it Static IV: The Video Game Generation or some shit. Eh? Eh? Don’t get me wrong, the dude fits in well over at Real, and it’s certainly a more lucrative source of employment… but he’s got Traffic Skateboards written all over him in this web clip. You know what? I’m going to go so far as to give this part…
Yeah, I went there. That’s how you know you’ve arrived, Ishod. Step aside SOTY, now this is an award with some fucking prestige.
Seriously though, he ollied over a bum. That’s worth 1,500 points alone right there.
Whew, that was a serious dose of skateboarding for 9 in the morning. Sorry boys and girls, I promise I’ll get some new fartwork (it’s a silent “f”) up next week.
When I was in high school, The Fast and the Furious conveniently released while most of my classmates were getting their licenses and acquiring cars of their own — cars that inevitably became covered in massive Honda stickers, to say nothing of the tinted stickers purchased at Walmart plastered on all the windows. Needless to say, several acquaintances of mine were later served fairly large tickets for “street racing.” It seems their cinematic role models not only had better cars, but were (unsurprisingly) better at evading the police as well. Indeed, it takes some stupid mother fuckers to make Paul Walker seem even remotely competent.
Anyway, it looks like The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift must have finally been released in Saudi Arabia, and what with all the oil they’ve got to burn down there, they quite apparently have had no problem practicing. Indeed, it takes some badass mother fuckers to make street racing look like a bunch of retards riding big wheels around in a parking lot. And yeah, I guess the senseless gunfire might have something to do with that, too.
Some interesting information from the cameraman:
Hagwalah is arab style drifting which has been around for many years. These guys go over the limit and only represent themselves…not everybody. I am just a cameraman!
Hagawlah is illegal and the people involved defy the police and government - a lot of them are actually in prison..
Please do not abuse whole religions/races - this has nothing to do with religion, it‘s all about cars
Whoa, a lot of them are in prison? Shocker.
I can just see it now… The Fast and the Furious siX siX siX: Arabian Nights. The tagline? “Hotter than hell.” Obviously.
This is probably one of those posts I’ll eventually regret posting, but if I can’t say what I feel on this blog, I don’t see much of a point in saying anything at all. So anyway…
Not to trivialize a child suicide, particularly because the true villains here are idiotic, ignorant, loud-mouthed teenagers, who have long been a regrettable segment of society, and clearly continue to be, but…
To be honest, I’m finding the response to Jayme Rodemeyer’s suicide almost as sickening as the moronic behavior that prompted it.
—Do Gaga fans realize that trending BULLYING IS FOR LOSERS is itself bullying?
—If bullying is for losers, and Gaga fans bully, then Gaga fans are losers.
—Oh, but according to Gaga, EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL.
—[grumbles] Empty, illogical, masturbatory activism.
via Adam Riff
Now, I’m hardly a Gaga fan, but I am a firm supporter of being mean to mean people. That said, if I hadn’t been bullied in school, I doubt I’d be the razor-sharp, caustic wit I am today. Not bragging, just sharing. By the same token, if Lady Gaga hadn’t been bullied growing up, I seriously doubt she’d be “Mother Monster” today… she might just be Lady Stefani Germanotta, mother of two and Upper East Side rich bitch.
The strong, scrappy and smart survive… the weak get torn to shreds by pumas… or something. Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just trying to remember a poem I wrote in 9th grade.
“Chapter 1: Real men chop wood outside in flannel, quitters kill themselves in high school.”
It seems silly to me that the President is meeting with Lady Gaga to discuss making bullying illegal, when America makes a practice of bullying other countries, sometimes even countries we consider our allies (not siding with the terrorists, just sharing.) This is also to say nothing of the fact that bullying is widely considered a “good” trait in corporate America — cheating and playing dirty are encouraged, and are even considered admirable behavior… unless you get caught. In a sense, when bullies’ unfortunate target is driven to suicide as a result of their relative torture, they’ve been caught. All the brain-dead little 15-year-olds used to laugh when the bullies slapped the kid’s lunch tray out of his hands, but post-mortem, everybody mourns his death as if they were family. It’s a particularly grim, but very accurate, example of high school politics — a political system which infects much of mainstream American culture in 2011.
Basically, the entire situation, from the earliest instances of “fag talk” in the cafeteria to Lady Gaga and Barack Obama pontificating about the evils of bullying over cobb salads in the Oval Office is kind of nauseating.
I return from the darkness of static, after an extended bout of radio silence. Thing is, I scheduled an appointment with Time Warner Cable to have my service transferred to my new apartment, but their appointment window was from last Saturday, the 24th, through tomorrow, September 29th, between the hours of 10am and 7pm each day. I’ve basically just been sitting on my couch, occasionally dozing off, for the past 90 hours or so.
In any case, this is a semi-exciting moment in Dedleg history, as it’s the first post from our new headquarters on the park… Prospect Park, that is. Here’s a simple map so you can gauge the local hipster population / Pitchfork-demo relevancy (low / low) — nothing detailed enough to give local law enforcement an exact pin point. Not that they need it anyway… if Google’s satellite view can get you as close as it does for free, you know the CIA’s got some nanotech camera crawling up your ass crack right now and you don’t even realize it.
We might not be in the trendiest neighborhood in New York City anymore, and therefore slightly less culturally relevant, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Walking down Bedford Avenue at a speed faster than anything resembling a shuffle was becoming a logistical challenge, plus, Williamsburg has become so overrun with posers I was starting to feel like a poser for not being a poser amongst the rest of all the posers. I know, I know, cool people problems… nobody wants to hear them.
Welp, I’ve got to imagine slightly fewer nobodies don’t want to see a whole batch of sunset photos. It just didn’t seem right to not start things off in the new apartment with a post celebrating my favorite routine phenomenon. Perhaps it’s just another sunset photo amongst hundreds on this blog, another mundane day in the life of Dedleg, but it’s a day in a new place… a new beginning… a new view of the Western sky.
It’s a good thing my girlfriend and her 56-year-old mother were there to help move the couch up the stairs while I took a break to grab these photos. Phew! Woulda sucked to miss these. I think it was worth the hernia or whatever. She’s supposed to be out of the hospital in a few days anyway, no big deal.
The sunsets the first two nights in the new place were a couple of bangers… which I obviously considered a good omen. Red sky at night, new tenant’s delight, as they say in the realty biz (I actually have no idea if they say this).
Last night, however, the neighborhood looked a little different…
Obviously, you can expect to see many more photos taken by me hanging out of my living room window in the coming months. Personally, I’m excited to have a worthwhile horizon to look at again. Like famed boy-wizard, Harry Potter, I’ve been living in a cupboard with a view of a brick wall for the past year. Nonetheless, also like the boy who lived, I have emerged triumphant, and hopefully with a slew of hotly-pursued merchandise to follow.
This is not a welcome sight when it’s already been raining for three days.
Ah, fall in New York. “Moist” would be an appropriate adjective… as would “horrible.” It’s enough to make someone with SADD downright sad.
Anyway, this commercial from Savage Wheels may be only 41 seconds long, but with weather like this that’s all it takes to make me pop a raging skate boner. Maybe one day in the future I’ll actually be able to go skateboarding again, or maybe it’ll never stop raining, all the oceans will merge into one huge water world, and I’ll evolve gills and spend my life scouring shipwrecks around the globe for skateboard remnants, even though I’ll never be able to use one again. That should be a movie or something.
The clip is a nice reminder of what it’s like to skate in New York — I know, it’s been so long, I’d forgotten as well.
It dawned on me this morning that today is my last day in this apartment / secretive underground lair. I can’t say I’m nearly as emotionally attached to this one as I was to the place in Chicago, and if you’ve been keeping up all this time, you’ll know my relative lack of photography from within the walls of my domicile over the past year sort of says it all. Indeed, I will not be sad to see it go, and I don’t suspect any of you will be either. Dedleg HQ is moving on to bigger and better things. Our new hideout in the sky may be in a less trendy neighborhood, but the good thing about that is now I’ll definitely be the coolest motherfucker on the block, as opposed to now when there’s only like an 80-85% chance.
In any case, as a sort of memorial to how pathetically shitty my old apartment is, I’ve created a masterful Craigslist listing in the hopes of helping the gutless bloodsuckers who own the building move it over a little faster.
Anyway, no underwhelming Craigslist post would be complete without some misleading photos, right?
One time, my friend, who is a very prominent fashionista currently touring throughout Europe, asked if he could use the apartment as the set of the photo shoot for his new line of Beer Can Heels™ — finally a heel any man could wear with pride. They’re still in development, but he told me I could share a teaser with the Dedleg audience, since you guys are, after all, a demographic with extremely good taste.
We had a few things hung on the walls here and there, nothing crazy though.
This is from that time I had a rave and is not an accurate depiction of the usual state of the apartment. Hm… I wonder if that was what that threatening note was all about anyway…
Occasionally, I can’t help but think George Orwell was actually from some far-flung, futuristic dystopia, and used a time machine to travel back to our time. Here, he was (unsurprisingly) horrified, and subsequently went back even farther in time, wrote a book all about society as it is now, and titled it “1984” so it would seem even scarier. You know, in the hopes of frightening us into changing our ways before it was too late. But instead, (again, unsurprisingly) everybody just read the Sparknotes when they were assigned the book in high school, didn’t really get it anyway, and went on to post mind-blowing amounts of personal information on Facebook some years later.
Anyway, I say all this only because if I had to choose one adjective to describe the current state of this so-called Information Age, “Orwellian” would probably be the top pick on Family Feud. But you already knew that, didn’t you, Big Brother?
Snitch on your next door neighbor, because all those movies he’s always torrenting really cut down on the available bandwidth you need to download porn!
Ahh, the old “downloading MP3s kills America” song and dance. Please, if Internet piracy legitimately supported terrorist organizations around the globe, the Heartland would already be an endless field of ash and every school child in the country would be singing the Iranian national anthem just from the amount of Metallica songs I downloaded with Napster in 1999 alone.
Somehow I doubt streaming episodes of Boy Meets World online is the lifeline of the worldwide terror network… but saying it is sure is a good excuse for wiretapping your own citizens, huh?
Apologies for the extreme indolence over the past couple days. Suffice to say, Dedleg has not been handling my new schedule very well. After two weeks of commuting to work again after two years of working from home, I must say, I totally remember where I got this whole “I hate everyone” shtick. So far, the routine is kind of a like a joyless black hole, insatiably consuming every fiber of my will to live. The faster I try to pull away, the faster my will unravels… it’s like tugging on a sweater crocheted out of the tattered remains of my happiness. It seems I am now irreversibly caught in the vortex, and for those of you without a pointless reservoir of SAT words at the ready, a major component of a whirlpool or vortex is a downward spiral. Just sayin…
This is the drawing you see when you read this website backwards:
…in a metaphorical sense, that is. I hope none of you misconstrue today’s drawing as me waving the white flag (though the idea did cross my mind…) Regardless, I meant “dead” in the way you might say, “man, this club is totally dead. I, like, don’t even want to do all this blow now… but I probably still will just because I’m bored.” Clearly, we still have at least another 5 years to go before all the trendwhores from uptown start showing up, acting like they just discovered some secret jewel of cool, drinking Smirnoff Ice on their knees in the same spots where the old regulars used to stand around, arms crossed, silently judging all the other old regulars. So, uh, yeah… we’re not going anywhere for a while.
And speaking of being bored, I don’t know how you guys make it through the work week. Regular work hours are a drag! And without stunning, original Dedleg content slamming your face on the reg… well, the thought of eight hours chained to a desk seems unthinkable. So for that reason, and the fact that I’m probably a masochist, Dedleg will persevere. Perhaps posting will be a little irregular compared to our fiber-injected dedication to our own self-imposed schedule for the past two years, but a little irregularity never hurt anybody. …Well, except for all the millions suffering from colon cancer, I guess. Hm. Sorry gang, it’s hard to segue into a nice conclusion from that. So, until next time… uh… watch your ass?
In the interest of speed, here’s everything you need to know about the fast and furious Drive in 60 seconds.
It’s probably the closest thing to a film adaptation of GTA: Vice City there will ever be. Although for all the violence critics are shouting about, there’s unfortunately no chainsaw scene… but there’s always hope for the sequel, I suppose.
Still… The Notebook, this is not.
In Grade 1, having been heavily influenced by the film Rambo, he brought steak knives to school and threw them at other children during recess.
— excerpt from Wikipedia’s entry on Ryan Gosling
Ahhh, it’s all starting to make sense now.
I fell off the wagon a little bit last week as far as posting entertaining morsels from across the web. I’m not even on any other wagon, as far as I know. The good news is, in addition to still getting used to the effect my new job is having on my free time (basically consuming all of it), I’m also in the process of moving to a new apartment. So if you think Dedleg was slow last week, well just you wait. I hope you guys like boredom, because you’re going to be feeling it a lot in the coming days!
Either that, or I’ll get everything done, but finish the week a very tired, very cranky shade of my former self. So really, it’s a total win-win situation for everybody. Anyway, in the meantime, here are a couple quick shots from some of my recent wanderings on the Isle of Manhattan.
During one such wandering, it occurred to me how absolutely phallic the Flatiron building is from this angle.
Fortunately, there was a sunset just around the corner to make me forget all about the image of a 22-story dick. However, I do think it’s a particularly nice image to leave you with now. Just keepin’ it real.
Alright kids, this is going to be quick because I’m up past my bedtime, and I’ve got to go back to the salt mills again tomorrow. You see, I gotta make that bread, otherwise I won’t be able to put any of it on the table. Pup pup, at least it’s Friday and I can put my troubles behind me, hidden by the haze of a few pints. Here’s a few photos from earlier this week, when a UFO beamed some hapless New Yorkers up to its science deck, where they’re likely to be used for horrific experimentations and… and sexual tortures as well, obviously.
It looked like it hit somewhere in Lower Manhattan… close to Ground Zero. By the time I reached the Williamsburg waterfront to get a better look, the tractor beam had dissipated. Not a trace left behind… those poor people.
Look closely — there’s a boat in that photo. It’s crazy… it’s like a stealth bomber, but it’s a boat! A stealth-boater! …
Now that’s a real werewolf-shittin-in-its-pants moon right there! Hoo-wee!
Welp, that’s all I got, and if those shots aren’t New York fuckin’ City enough to inspire your night on the town then you know what?
Fun fact: Some doe-eyed college freshmen get a piercing or tattoo when they first move to New York City. Me? I bought the stupidest t-shirt I could find at one of a million overpriced, shitty head shops/piercing salons/dildo emporiums on St. Mark’s Street — pretty much the intersection of Times Square and time to smoke a rock near the square at Astor Place.
Oh to be young and dumb. No matter, those days are gone. …Now I’m just dumb.