I'ma teach you how to stunt

When did the Australians get so cool? maybe when the Japanese fell the fuck off.

check it...

Water on Witches

Apparently, if you throw water on a hooker, she will melt like a wicked witch. The photo above was taken an interior industrial street with the closest intersection being 7th street and Traction.

I was unable to negotiate with the young woman who once inhabited these garments to my satisfaction. Suspecting that I may be able melt ladies of the night with pure distilled H20, like you would a witch, I reached into the rear seat of the Alero, brandished a jug and doused the hooker with Arrowhead.

She quickly fizzled away like a flesh n' bone alka-seltzer, leaving behind only a modest mountain of cotton, spandex, elastic and lame.

Godspeed fair flowers of the street, but please know I'm coming to soak you.

High Places:EXPOSED!!

High Places say they are from Brooklyn but I see the dude with the beanie errywhere in LA.

Assuming that High Places is indeed from Brooklyn they are 1 of maybe 5 good bands from New York right now (shout out to Vivian Girls!!). So that leaves the score at NY:5, LA:87, yet I still hear dorks Worldwide lament about how rad New York is and how hopeless LA will always be.

Voicing this opinion in 2008 is basically an admission of dorkdom and means one of two things:

1. Either the person making this claim is super out-of-the-loop concerning where to go and what to see in The City of Angels
2. They are just regurgitating the same poison they heard 4 or 5 years ago when this claim actually held a little agua.

Basically what I’m trying to say is FUCK A HATER.

High Places make cloudy stoner jams with chick vocals that don’t bug the shit out me, which is rare.

I would suggest packing the wizard bong and letting High Places S/T rip, no matter which coast you rep. WEST SIIIDE.

Have You Met Me? found photos/king eddys/6:17am

Sometimes I wake up quite early. My favorite thing to do on these occasions is to walk down to my morning bar, King Eddy’s Saloon.

The other day as I traipsed to the bar, before even the downtown coffee shops were open for business. I saw luggage and its contents strewn across the sidewalk and asphalt that compose the intersection of 5th street and Los Angeles.

This sort of disregard isn’t entirely uncommon as 5th and Los Angeles is the downtown mouth of skid row; the entrance and exit point of the city center for many stragglers and no-goodknicks.

As I rummaged, shoulder-to-shoulder with the half human/half vulture creatures that gathered around the hurricane pile of somebody’s last possessions. I came across a single photo album page, containing the above photos.

The thing that struck me about the photos besides the frantic circumstances that surrounded their discovery was the seemingly uneventful circumstances surrounding the scenes in the photographs themselves. They depict, essentially, some friends gathered in a suburban setting, having drinks and talking. No big whoop. These photos were so important to someone that they were among their very last possessions; the items that they held close to them as they were thrown into the realm of Los Angeles’ homeless population, only to have them torn from their grip and laid haphazardly about the entrance to King Eddy’s.

If you grew up, as I did, in a place like Phoenix or Riverside or Reno then these characters may look very familiar. I could easily see my parents mixed in with this relatively motley looking crew; Marlboro menthols, “Maui” t-shirts and all.

Also the dark-haired girl in Adidas cross-trainers is kind of fuckable.

Red-Headed Slut: Gingers in Fashion

I was stoked to see that Dov has found a delicious little Ginger Snap to represent the entire sport of swimming this summer.

Jesus Christ, those titties! Those aren't tits you motorboat. I do believe you'd battleship those motherfuckers.

Yours in Redness,
Restless Leezy

JOHN WILSON...PLAYA 4 LIFE

For some reason known only to him, My good friend John Wilson allowed me to tattoo him with the design of my choice on his recent visit to Los Angeles.

Let the above photos stand as monument to the permenance of freindship and undisputed fact that John Herbert Walker Wilson is a motherfucking Lady Killa!!!

ON DECK: Raooul/Skinned Teen...Slut-Core from the 10th grade

I walked into the uncomfortably hot Ooga Booga store on July 4th in hopes of swallowing some beer and catching a day time set from our favorite hybrid bitch-band; Tony (Formerly Teenage Moms).

These goals were indeed accomplished along with a windfall find that has left me with a Punk boner ever since. I found a brand-new gleaming copy of the 90’s Slut-Punk masterpiece Jailbait Core by Raooul.

Raooul was a band existing in the heyday of Lookout Records, when I would sit around my bedroom and daydream about dropping out of Greenway High and hopping a train to Gilman… never to return. Half the reason this Crust Punk utopia was so enticing was close proximity I would be to the members of Raooul(who were like my age, 15 or 16 , at the time) and their famed vaginas. Maybe, just maybe, if I played my cards right I would trip on Telegraph and find my teenage pecker coated in Raooul goo. God that would have been great.

This re-release is pressed as a split with Skinned Teen. They are from England or something.

Lookout! Records

On Deck: Urinals (Best Band EVER)

“You wanted the best and you got the best, the hottest band in the world…The Urinals!!”

Dude ain’t lie! Raul gave me a copy of Negative Capability…Check it out and blew my fucking mind.

Apparently, these rippers formed in Big Los Ang in the late 70’s and never looked back.

There tunes are at times fuzzy surf rock and at other moments blistering fucking punk rock. Every song however is a classic. If I could frame a song, my apartment would be decorated floor to ceiling with urinals.

I will probably never recommend any record/collection/compilation as highly as I do this one…Not that you give a flying faggot’s fuck which records I dig.

An open letter to the guy who pulled that funny looking knife on me at Barrigan's

Dear guy who pulled a knife on me in the parking lot at Barrigan’s,

Why did you do that? Do you have that much hatred toward Gingers? You yourself are a bit of an ethnic outcast, as you appeared to be half black and looked a lot like a younger College-ier (if that’s possible) version of that that guy from Hootie and The Blowfish. I would expect you to have some respect for people’s differences.

And what’s with the crazy looking hammer-knife? Are you some kind of a fucking miner? Maybe you like to recreate Civil War battles?

Were you really going to kill me in the parking lot of Barrigan’s restaurant on a Wednesday night? What an embarrassing, hipster way to die. That would be like losing a leg because you got the leather lace of your Topsiders stuck in the crank of your fixie, or drowning at a Swim with the Sharks pool party…tre disrespectful to my mom.

In any event, you’re super-duper bitch-made and when I see you I’m going to violently rape you in front of everyone at Barrigan’s. I am going to beat you beyond resistance in front of the female Barrigan’s customers with the ironic 80’s eyeglass frames. I’m going to rip off your trousers in front on the 19 year old boys who dress like Led Zeppelin. I’m going to plunge my angry cock into your frightened rectum so deep that even the girls who haven’t figured out that thick, cotton-spandex leggings are no longer en vogue will feel it.

Oh, and I have your golf club.