Hi. Welcome to Reblog Tuesdays™, a terrible idea for feature that I will personally make sure does not become recurring. The thing is, Papa Dedleg feels like rewarding himself with some much-needed skateboarding and that means instead of sitting inside drawing like some kind of nerd, I’m going to go draw motherfucking skid marks on the streets of New York City, bitch!
And speaking of skateboarding… a few days ago I posted up some of the worst skateparks ever created. Well, it’s about damn time we crawled out from the darkness and into the light at the other end of that spectrum. This technicolored twilight zone practically had me making skid marks in my pants! Where the hell is this place located? Heaven?
Maybe it’s just the bright colors winning me over. Or, heck, I guess it could also be the idyllic, tropical mountain range rising out of the distance. But something tells me that even without those things, this little concrete wonderland would still be one of the most breathtaking places on earth. I mean, really, this thing is so damn sexy it’s got me gleaming the cube over here.
Unless it’s all fake, of course… a Photoshopped phantasm… some “mockup” of “what a skate park might look like here” to point at with a stick during some developer’s “board meeting.” Dear god it’s a thought I cannot bear let alone believe.
Santa Cruz can turn literally any shape into a skateboard. The jury’s still out on whether or not that’s a good thing.
Typically, rain is a pretty strong skate deterrent. So you gotta figure a fucking flood is like the goddamned deathblow of skate deterrents. Apparently, that’s not the case, at least for these maniacs. Wasn’t there a level in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater Number Something that was all fucked up and shit like this? LA-post-catastrophic-earthquake or something? In any case, I don’t think my special bar has ever been full enough to fuck with this shit, but you gotta give it to these guys for trying.
This is really more “destroy and skate” than “skate and destroy” wouldn’t you say?
Also, it’s, like, totally good to see that skateboarding will survive even in the wake of apocalyptic destruction. I can see it now… Mad Max on skateboards. Daewon can skate on rocks… perhaps he’s merely a prophet of the New Skateboarding Order to come. By the way, nobody steal that Mad Max on skateboards idea, either. ‘Cuz that’s totally going to be the name of Dedleg’s first Broadway musical.
Been doing my fair share of travel within the tristate area this summer, so here are a few from a recent trip up to Boston. To clarify, there aren’t any actual photos of Boston, just pictures of clouds I took out of the bus window, mostly. Come on, you should be used to this by now.
Hartford, Connecticut, I think. I was born there and I don’t even really know what it looks like. Says a lot about the place. Which is to say there’s not much to say about the place.
Chemtrails, or contrails? We may never know.
Needless to say, between the potential presence of chemtrails and the overwhelming presence of huge fucking power lines, the brain cancer alert system was all the way up to “oh most definitely.”
This one’s blurry, but fuck it, I took it out of a moving bus window — cut me some slack, jack.
Skate parks, love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re certainly not going anywhere. With more of them popping up pretty much everywhere by the year (seriously, they’ve even got them in Uganda and shit now), more skaters than ever are being exposed to them. Growing up, I remember practically salivating as I paged through the latest issue of Thrasher, eyes darting back and forth across the photos of utopian concrete wonderlands as if it was all some vintage pornography I found stashed in the back shed. The truth is, the megalithic bowl complexes out in the Pacific Northwest made the waterlogged 70s bush I found out in the shed seem even less appetizing than it already did. And they certainly weren’t doing any favors for my local “skate park,” which was little more than a collection of shoddily assembled, scalding hot metal ramps strewn about in a sandy parking lot. But over the years, and thanks to skateboarding’s increasing mainstream popularity, the state of the skate park nation has changed. Or has it?
I’ve got to thank my buddies over at Jenkem for tipping me off about this eyesore a couple days ago. In fact, that’s probably the only time anybody’s ever thanked another person for passing along information about this park, so I’m feeling pretty good about my accomplishments so far today.
Seriously, who’s responsible for designing this one? Sadomasochist Skateparks International? These people should be held accountable for their crimes. This is an abomination, its very existence a scar on the earth’s tortured flesh.
Here’s another angle at some of the park’s other “attractions.” For the record, the rough translation of “attractions” into whatever harsh Eastern European language they speak in the barren land that this monstrosity calls home is “torture rack.” Just some food for thought.
Look, I’m all for inciting progression in skateboarding, but this just seems a little mean-spirited. That said, I’d love to see somebody try to ride it. Maybe boost off the kicker, over the flat, and onto the rail? Although an unlikely feat for anyone who isn’t Brandon Westgate or something, it still doesn’t seem nearly as ridiculous a prospect as the process of designing this park must have been.
In a world full of skate parks and very few people who actually understand skateboarding, at least some of them are guaranteed to be heaping steamers. And like the glutton for punishment that I am (aren’t all skateboarders a little bit anyway?), I couldn’t help but pursue a quest to find more of these shocking insults to the art of skate park building. It took me down the dankest, darkest corridors of the Internet where only the vilest filth sees fit to live. Fitting then, considering the “parks” I found there. Some of them are so insane they could be considered abstract art. Others practically skate-stop themselves. Indeed, not even a rollerblader would dare set boot in these foul places.
So this is some next level shit. Build a perfect, shallow pool, and then fill the flat bottom with rails and other assorted death traps so nobody can use any of it! But I guess at least it would keep you on your toes. Really no clue what the fuck they were thinking with those poles though. Maybe in case it floods and sharks come? I don’t know. Surf’s up, dude.
Wonder what’s gone down on this? A couple wallies?
But wait… if you stretch it to about 300% its width, it starts to look like something somebody could actually ride. Although that rail is still a fucking Million-Dollar-Baby-in-the-making as far as I’m concerned…
I think they must have put the fence around this “halfpipe” to contain it, kind of like the contamination zone they set up around Chernobyl after the reactor meltdown. Nothing can survive there for long. Yes, you would do well to stay far, far away from there.
Speaking of halfpipes, I don’t know what the fuck this thing is supposed to be, but I’d actually be kind of psyched to skate that. For like 10 whole minutes.
Don’t get me wrong. By any objective standard, this thing is fucking awful. But I’m still willing to bet I could have some fun on it. Until I fell on it and got covered in second degree burns, anyway.
See, a little relativity will fuck you up. That metal spine might look like a good way to bruise your tailbone and not much else, but the reality is, things could be so much worse…
What’s that anonymous dirt path to nowhere, you might ask? A close up of the sign towards the back might provide some insight…
I love that they have the gall to require helmets. What… in case one of the nearby trees falls on you?
So, complain about how crowded your local skate park might be during these long summer months when droves of kids on scooters are out of school and set loose on the fine quarterpipes of this country, but never take for granted the fact that you’ve got a skate park worth crowding. Indeed, you could very easily have the entire afternoon to yourself at one of the aforementioned tantalizing destinations, but… would you really even want to? That sounds almost more like a punishment than a good session, if you ask me. I might be a glutton for punishment, but even I’ve got to draw the line somewhere. Personally, I’d rather be sent to bed without any dinner.
7.26.12, 12:30 PM
Huh. Well, thanks for all the information. Until then I guess I’ll have to, like, do something productive, I guess.
You know, sometimes it’s nice to go outside.
Here are a few more photos from my trip up to Lake George a couple weeks ago. Real outdoorsman shit. Hiking through poison-ivy infested woods, drinking Budweiser, swimming in rivers — the Hudson River, in fact! Just the part farther upstream, before it gets all needley and dead-body-wearing-concrete-shoesy.
Shit was reminding me of Lord of the Rings and shit, I was loving it.
Unfortunately, it seems, no matter how far you get away, some things never change.
The time: exactly one week ago, 6:30 pm. Let’s say you meet up with some of the skateboarding blogging elite for a happy hour of epic proportions — assuming your definition of “epic proportions” means “you all talked about dicks and shitting a lot.” And let’s say this happy hour starts to span the length of several hours, and many, many adult beverages are consumed over the course of these several hours. Then let’s say you suddenly wake up, sitting on a curb somewhere in the West Village, and some woman is in the street, yelling at you to wake up because the school bus is coming. Your wallet and phone are gone, and you’re left with a measly $13 bucks in your pocket. Bewildered, you wander off, trying to piece together the ruins of the night before, as a short bus full of kids smarter than you pulls up behind. They know all too well the lesson that you’ve since forgotten: too many juice boxes before bed… never a good thing.
It’s a grisly tale, and don’t let it happen to you. That’s all I’m saying.
Now, there are probably those of you out there who think my considerable talents would be better spent on illustrations and photography rather than word-vomitous reviews of big Hollywood slop. So I decided it was high time I put up a new drawing and, in doing so, likely prove how far that opinion is from the case.
Indeed, I was just as surprised as the rest of you that I had somehow not forgotten how to draw in the past few months, as the time I spent with my fingers wrapped around a pencil grew more sparse with every passing week. I originally started Dedleg, nearly 3 years ago now, as a place that wasn’t necessarily a receptacle for word-vomit, but life-vomit. Conceptually anyway, Dedleg is an online sketchbook / inspiration board of sorts, and it really got me drawing again after years of deliquency. And rather than backslide into the dark ages of my early twenties, when instead of being productive with my free time I just went on murderous chainsaw massacres in Grand Theft Auto, I decided it was past time to take the reigns again and ride the frothing, skeletal work horse that is Dedleg into battle once more, pending identity theft claims and mildly alcoholic tendencies aside. See you on the battlefields of creativity, brothers. Glory awaits us.
Did I miss something with The Dark Knight Rises, like the part where it was good?
Well… it was better than Batman Forever, I guess. Not sure how to compare it to Batman & Robin though, since it kind of is “Christopher Nolan does Batman & Robin” just without the, uh, you know… nipples.
If it hasn’t become obvious… you should probably stop reading this if you haven’t seen the movie yet. And maybe I should see it again, I don’t know. But these are my initial impressions, some more sarcastic than others, and take them with a grain of salt, because a few semesters of movie-related-classes in college don’t mean much, except I could do my homework stoned.
The Dark Knight Rises features 95% of Inception’s cast, and like Inception, I wish this was all just a bad dream, too. Mal, it wasn’t enough that you abandoned your children and nearly turned your husband’s brains to a sizzling slime while he languished in the depths of dream limbo for all time? Now you have to go and botch up Batman’s grand finale? That’s going too far, even for a vengeful, sociopathic projection of a memory.
And while it might not have all been a dream, we do see a pretty obvious example of deus ex machina in THAT FUCKING ENDING. Autopilot may have saved our hero, but it didn’t save the writing. Uh, isn’t this supposed to be The fucking Dark Knight? So why is Nolan treating the audience like a fucking kindergarten class? Ah yes, everybody lives happily ever after… except for the people who wanted something more than, well, more more more.
We got big flying bat shit, all kinds of huge crazy shit blowing up, and Anne Hathaway in leather pants, when the film really needed better relationships between the characters across the board. Batman spends more time making out with chicks he just met than kicking ass or doing the odd detectivey thingy or whatever it is he does down in the Batcave all day. I would have preferred the film focus more on the tension and conflict between Batty and Bane, instead of, “Oh, hello, I’ve heard of you. LET’S GET IT ON!” Batty goes down, resume fairly boring sideplots.
Nolan loves introducing multiple story arcs that he often, impressively, weaves together into a cohesive plot, but this time the threads were too numerous, too winding, and the tangle clearly became hard to manage. The pacing killed me — dragging through dispensible subplots and then rushing through every potentially great scene because there was simply too much going on in the film to spend time on the things that should have made it great.
In particular, there were too many characters introduced that really weren’t necessary, but they sure killed a lot of precious time. Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter showing up was a nice twist, in theory anyway, but it’s too bad she was woefully underdeveloped and served more to diminish Bane’s character than anything else. Shoulda dropped Catwoman in favor of a more developed Talia al Ghul.
On that note, Catwoman might as well be a curse as far as moviemaking goes. And this particular incarnation, while somehow exceeding my expectations considering I was dreading Anne Hathaway in the role from the start, still wins the Jar Jar Binks Award for constantly filling the air with increasingly scoff-worthy one-liners. Sorry, but, I think Arnold had enough one-liners in Batman & Robin for all Batman-inspired-cinema-history, thanks. I’m saying, it’s time we put a freeze on one-liners in Batman movies, once and for all.
I wasn’t a huge fan of how Manhattan Gotham was throughout the film, either. The towering skeleton of 1 WTC is pretty goddamn hard to miss. But leaving the Broad Street JMZ subway sign completely unaltered is just lazy. Might as well have had a dude on the corner selling “I Heart New York” shirts.
But more than anything, did anybody else feel like, for a Batman movie, this one didn’t really have enough, uh, Batman?
Seems like a mighty fine day to have a barbecue or something. Not trying to tell you how to live your life or anything. I’m just saying, if I was a barbecue, I would want to be had by you, today.
Just think about it. Burgers, dogs. And your local supermarket can even offer a wide range of imitation meat products for the vegetarians amongst you! Or, if you’re like me, you can just buy your vegetables in a ziploc bag from the sketchy guy on the corner.
Just one person’s argument for why Fahrenheit is the one measure of temperature to rule them all, and in the hotness, bind them. They do make a convincing argument…
It’s a cloudy, but very welcome, 73 degrees Fahrenheit in Brooklyn right now. Good thing, too, because shit was starting to feel downright Kelvin out there.