WEE GINGER CUNT

2 Dead Chinese People in the Sand

2009-08-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

Richard Brautigan tells us that “anybody can catch VD”

With this, I agree. “Please see a doctor of you think you’ve got it”

More applicable it would have been if Brautigan had pleaded for his readership to get to a doctor, because in my experience those apt to bout with social disease are 1000 subway rides away from regular scheduled check-ups.

The City detests them and forces them (sometimes by the hair) to work early and to home late.

The Chinese people are clearly just sleeping.

I got fucking robbed

2009-08-02T18:34:00.000-07:00

at gunpoint. I felt like a fucking Korean. They took everything in the fucking shop. I'm just glad that me and my 2 friends, who i blindly led into this ambush made it out with our lives.

It could have very well turned out like this.

ON DECK: playlist from the past

2009-07-28T21:54:00.000-07:00

Drunken Butterfly - Sonic Youth

For a little while Greg, Tommy and I were doing a weekly show on IM Radio. At this time (It's since moved to Echo Park) IM Radio was broadcasting from a rad little spot in the window of the MJ Higgins gallery, which at that time (It has since moved a few blocks east) was on Spring between 5th and 6th; my block!

At that time we were all DJing together. We all found ourselves with Spring St. addresses (we have all since moved on, Tommy and I to the retired comforts of Silverlake and Greg to fuckin' Mexico City) and thusly operated under the banner of "Bruce SpringStreet" a local, very local DJ collective. It was a fun way to listen to Punk Rock records, stay out late on weeknights and drink enough pints of Schlitz to float a manatee.

Our radio show was a rather moist affair, as well, with bottles placed among the begged, borrowed and stolen Internet radio equipment. We always had fun but I wanted to banter. I felt like Greg always wanted to "get back to the music", leaving me silently screaming, "just let me get to my punch line!!"

Well, on the night which hosted this particular play list from the pleasant past was different, I was alone. Engagements of natures forgotten kept both of the boys away. I was alone to banter, ramble and play as much "new shit" as I pleased.

Knowing that I had no buddy at my saddle, ready with a vinyl life vest, I scratched the following play list. No song titles, just band names and denotations concerning medium; "vinyl", "7 inch","CD".

Set 1 (I call this my, "geez, go to The Smell much?" set)
1. Ponies
2. NO AGE(2)
3. Silver Daggers
4. Mika Miko
5. Abe Vigoda
-talk-

Set 2 (This is my, "I'm old but I still like drugs and only listen to KCRW sometimes" set
1. Phychic TV-Godstar
2. Feathers(7)-LSD MUSIC
3. Animal Collective-Feels
4. White Flight
5. Violent Femmes(18)-American Music
-talk-

Set 3 (Um???? this is like a "I go to college in Oregan and have mad natty dreads coming in" set. weird one)
1. Aesop Rock (last song)
2. Dangerdoom
3. Ghostface Killah
4. Paul Barman
5. Kimya Dawson
6. Juiceboxxx
-talk-

Set 4 (This is like a "fuck you I'm gonna play bands from high school and a couple from nowadays...and Buddy Holly" set)
1. Propaghandi
2. Black Flag
3. Upsilon Acrux
4. Buddy Holly
5. French Film Blurred
6. Clip'd Beaks
-talk-

Set 5 (This is my "raddest set EVER" set)
1. Raooul
2. Old Tyme Relijun
3. Econochrist
4. XBRX
5. Elvis Costello
6. Sonic Youth
-fin-

My favorite parts were when I got to -talk-

There Is Still Here

2009-07-28T20:39:00.001-07:00

I think a lot about life as if I've lived several already. Like my past can be segmented into "past lives", beginning and end not tallied by birth and death but by events that I deem metamorphic. The logical tenant that occupies my head space warns that these events only seem important and the journey is much more congruent than I like to admit. In other words, your dead selves are always in tow.

When two of my best friends decided to collaborate on art project concerning text they brought this little poem out that I wrote a long time ago. "This poem will be the text", they said. "ummm, OK, rad."

There Is Still Here
There is still here because I still have burns and scars and tattoos from there and they're here. I still have cuts and tattoos and burns and burns from lighters that Aaron gave me in Lori's bedroom.

one of my old lives

Free Haircut On Your Birthday

2009-07-28T19:10:00.000-07:00

I really thought I was about to get my fade lined-out on Christmas morning.

Devastated daily!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ode to Downtown Los Angeles

2009-07-14T15:42:00.000-07:00

Bukowski sprawled in your duck pond park, drunk on drink and prose and watery duck pond air, John Fante, too & me, as well.

The pond has since become a spout a launching pad; Pershing Missile Square.
It wasn’t until many years later that I overheard a man at the bus stop say,” that used to be the most dangerous plot in Los Angeles”

The pond had since huddled over, coddling docile homeless and middle-management Armenian types.

Oh, Los Angeles, your Temple is a street & your Spring has long sprung ever-changing, a metamorphic municipality bodega to parking lot warehouse to loft. Even your wholesale fashion for the poor vacates for I.T. guys and painters and middle-management Armenian types, & me as well. Gentrification they say but phantom Bukowski & Fante’s apparition know there is something far more sinister at hand & me as well.

A black lady pulls over and flags me down. She has real human hair and finger nails with the length & curvature of the journey itself, “Can you tell me where I will find the courthouse?” “Four more blocks & you’ll see it on your left." I have no idea if this is true.

American Gothic

2009-07-05T22:50:00.000-07:00

Playa Vista Style...

This was the prelude to a grey-haired, wife beater-clad, gentleman chasing us from the basketball court of the Playa Vista planned community.

"You woke up my kid and I'm going to take your head off", he yelled as he swung his condo-sized garden implement.

"Fuck, how old is your kid, you old fart; 30?" , I thought as I jogged backwards away from my geriatric attacker. "I'll be back for you", I prophesied, and I meant it.

He scared Steffi badly, and for that he must pay. After all, IT WAS JUST SOME FUCKIN' MORTARS AND A COUPLE MAXIMUM THRUST.

This was our pre-4th trunk-stash. I still possess around 40% of the load

How To Disappear In America

2009-07-04T17:04:00.000-07:00

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you, i'm out...

P R O T E C T ME, The Strange Boys and Mika MIKo-The Smell, 6/29/09

2009-06-30T01:27:00.000-07:00

I really like to push my gas tank to the razor's fucking edge. It's like I refuse to admit to myself that I WILL be using more than $8.50 worth of gas in the coming week. Or maybe I think that someone else will end up throwing duckets on the petrol. Whatever my thought process is, I really hate to break a Jackson at the gas station.

This being said, I set out for The Smell last night with only fumes and moxy to see me downtown. I took a right onto Silverlake Blvd, left onto the 101, pumping strong to the 110S interchange and put, put, put, I run out of fucking gas before I reached 3rd street.

The fumes had expired but the moxy kicked in, I coasted onto third, down the hill toward Beaudry coming to a cock-eyed stop in the parking lot made famous by the presence of Kike's "authentico" tacos and dogs.

Assuring the good people of Kike's that I would return, i set out, on foot, toward the 2nd street tunnel and the warmth and comfort of The Smell.

By the time I hit the alley Strange Boys was mid-set. I was bummed to miss it but soon re-stoked by one of the most fun Mika Miko sets in a hella long time.

"I danced to THREE songs and was soaking wet by the end of Mika Miko's set"-Raul Perez

no shit!

I then had to deal with the stalled whip, driving around with birthday boy Chris Zacher trying to find a gas station that sold fucking cans. When we finally do it's like this super-complicated gas can with all sorts of bells and whistles and levers and locks. You had to have earned a fucking 2-year degree to operate the thing.
Stopped at Sunset and Alvarado and broke the cycle, put in like $14.00. Off into the night bumping my newly acquired tape from P R O T E C T M E.

I got this too:

It's Strange Boys, Strange Boys and Girls Club on In The Red Records. This is only mildly noteworthy because it was the second In The Red album I had bought that day as I had JUST picked up The Oh Sees, HELP at Amoeba:

In The Red; Come to think of it sorta relates to the car scenario. Funny how that works.

back on the pedal

2009-06-29T20:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

Please don't be so worried about me. I'm not doing anything that you wouldn't find reprehensible. I'm not placing anything anywhere that you wouldn't be hard-pressed to locate and once you found it wonder if the excruciating search was worth the closure.

Please don't worry about me. I'm just fine.

Summer Shoes

2009-06-29T01:31:00.000-07:00

June Gloom has come and gone. The sunshine is here for an extended stay. While this is disagreeable to my ginger complexion, it's quite conducive to copping kicks. I may even fuck around and wear a baseball cap.

I copped these these at Marc by Marc Jacobs. They have an embroidery detail depicting a shroom on the upper, making it the second mushroom tip rocking below my knee.

FLORAL PRINT HIGH TOPS!! These kicks are retarded but so am I, another Marc X Marc creation.

Butt, Dick, AND Pussy

2009-06-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

Barbie Bitch and long-time friend of The Cunt, Quentin has a new blog. It promises to spread the cheeks of the LA scene like never before, no homo. I thought you should know.

Our blogs may be at odds, but we heart each other, big time

a long drive home

2009-06-24T01:33:00.000-07:00

and before I quite reached home a stopped and did something I haven't done in many years, since I lived in the desert. I pulled into 7-11, took a 32oz cup filled it half way Dr.Pepper and filled the rest with Mexico's favorite rice beverage; horchata.

That's right, horchata -pepper. or whorechata due to the bastardly nature from which thine hydrib hath sprung.

Works Every Time: The Make Out party, Fool's Gold and Abe Vigoda at the Colt 45 Party 06/06/09

2009-06-07T23:12:00.000-07:00

(no photos because Vivi STILL has my camera...UGH!)

I think the unanimous decision is that Three of Clubs sucks for shows. It sounded bad and it was sectioned off into two lounges, which caused the show side of the bar to be packed tighter than an astro van full of Mexicans.

It was a Vice/Colt .45 party and was touted to have free tall boys, which it did for like 2 seconds. Maybe Billy D. Williams is a Black Jew, because those cocksuckers showed up with a six-pack. All you heard all night was, Sorry, we’re all out, try the other bar.” You know the other bar doesn’t have any, asshole!

Broken malt liquor promise aside, Thee Make Out Party was the first band to play. I was a virgin and I was pretty stoked. The garagey-power pop quartet played sweet songs about love, drugs and bubblegum. They wore the appearance of the kids who hung out beneath the bleachers in High School, eager to pontificate over Sabbath or The Stooges, Raw Power.

TMP finished strong and the room filled gypsies in anticipation of a Fool’s Gold performance. I don’t even know if these dudes were even singing in English but they were def, def getting down. My big Cousin, Luis, was there with some of his sorted friends. I overheard one of his homeboys say, “That fucking white boy GETS DOWN on that guitar, he OWNS that shit.” quite excitedly. This performance also marked the second in a week’s time that I bore witness to a dude that wasn’t scared to drop his primary instrument and toot a flute. The first time was Brittany’s Mexican wedding band leader, this time it was one of two Fool’s Gold sax players. Although, this time there was no drunken wedding crowd violently insisting that the band “play more Steppenwolf.”

As the air cleared of that funky waft that only a talented jam band could fill a room with, it was time for Abe. Michael was wearing a jacket I made, Juan was drinking a martini, and David was drunkenly celebrating a birthday and who the fuck is the white boy on drums. Jesus Christ, I need to get to The Smell more. I took my customary position aside Raul and Abe began with a pre-Skeleton crowd favorite and it began to degenerate from there. I was pelted with several beer cans, Juan’s guitar broke and I experienced the staple black-guy-in-the mosh-pit. There is always a non-punk black guy in the pit taking a sort of science experience approach to our not-so-sacred dance ritual. After being hit in the nose, not once but twice by the life-size Billy D. cardboard cut-out the set ended with Juan flat on his stomach (yummy) and David banging his bass on the low ceilings of The Three of Clubs. The white boy drummer gets 2 thumbs up, BTW.

This concludes the most racist show review I’ve ever written.

The Homosexuals and Silver Apples @ The Echo, 03/29/09

2009-03-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

"I have known love and love is blind"

I went to see the seminal 19070s British Punk band, The Homosexuals with Silver Apples at The Echo with last night. The band consists, of course, of Bruno Wizard as the only original member and a bunch of younger dudes supporting The Wiz.

The Homosexuals sans Anton + a bunch of younger dudes and several Bruno costume changes

Silver Apples photo courtesy of Rolling Stone

Bruno totally vibed me as the British 70's Punk-legend version of our American frat boy roofie dropper. It was a really fun show but dude kept waxing philosophic about the power of "love" selectively eyeing down particular under-age female concert goers with what I can only describe as a creepy-ass rape stare. I mean, besides Wizard, I had to be one of the oldest people in the room, so you can imagine how awkward it was to watch him drool over little Echo Parkians 50 years his junior. CREEPER STATUS!!

Silver Apples, however is the fucking best and Simeon Coxe III is my absolute hero. He stood up there old-as-fucking-hell, older even than Wizard, with his hand-crafted music machines and a "Roswell-type" alien T-shirt fucking slaying the crowd. I heard a lot of people say, " I hope I'm that cool when I'm that old". There is no way you will be that cool.

Astral Glamour - The Homosexuals

I Have Known Love - Silver Apples

Taschen Porn

2009-03-27T20:55:00.001-07:00

You know you're a classy dude when Taschen publishes your pornography

Glamour From The Ground Up, Ed Fox Your fav porn stars framed by Fox's impeccible composition

Do It Yourself, Uwe Ommer I love, love, love the idea of the subject deciding how they feel sexy. Please everyone, send your self-portrait nudes to weegngrcnt@gmail.com for me to enjoy

I read this one a lot, too (not Taschen)

Bukowski n' Me

2009-03-27T08:45:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that once you hear of something or say something for the first time, that thing will start popping up everywhere?

Like, maybe you’ve never seen or heard of a hovercraft before, then its all hovercraft, all the time for the next week.

Well, A few posts ago, on this very blog I was talking about Hugo Yunker and I mentioned that due to her Chinese ancestry her vagina very well may open sideways. I have heard his implied before but I have certainly never seen this written down or spoken of definitively.

Mere days after I wrote the piece on Hugo and her Asiatic twat opening I was reading Charles Bukowski’s 1982 novel, Ham On Rye when I came across this passage,

The elevator came up. The albino was still at the controls. “Hey, I hear you and Mewks made the bars last night!”
“He bought me a few beers. I’m broke.”
“You guys get laid?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why don’t you guys take me along next time? I’ll show you how to get some snatch.”
“What do you know?”
I’ve been around. Just last week I had a Chinese girl. And you know, it’s just like they say.”
“What’s that?”
We hit the basement and the doors opened.
“Their Snatch doesn’t run up and down, it runs from side to side.”

…Well, there you have it

I HUG L.A.

2009-03-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

What else can I say, I love L.A.

I love this town, but parking is a motherfucker. Huh, Isaac?

convenient parking - MODEST MOUSE

Mike Watt and BARR @ Mountain Bar 03/21/09

2009-03-23T23:05:00.000-07:00

Tommy and I went to see Mike Watt and BARR play at the Mountain Bar on Saturday night. How could the legendary Mike Watt of Minutemen and Firehouse fame play with Brendan Fowler of BARR and Disaster; one of the most well known musical personalities of the Smell phenomenon at the little-ass Chinatown Mountain Bar on a Saturday? It’s gotta be a shit show, right?

No. There was like 50 people there, and 40 of them had no idea who Watt was, let alone BARR. It was fucking insane. Sure enough, there was Mike Watt, spankin’ the shit out of his slap-shovel. Fowler was there too, wearing Air Max; ready to sing us the single and tell us why it sucks.

I guess it was an after-party for some art show, so the crowd was ready to get their art-fag on; hence the non-understanding of the punk that was about to go down.

I caught Mike Watt's set...Stellar! I was shooting the shit with Tommy's Limey-ass Kiwi friends and completely missed BARR. PISSSED! 'Ol T-Rex promised it was rad, I guess he played as BARR and rinsed the hits that make the Toms wearing girls ooze vagina creme. All and all an unexpected and super-stokeded evening.

Lonely Metro trip

Chinatown is my favorite

Steffi was there kicking it with the Minuteman, himself!

we met these chicks

pic sucks but you get the idea

your boy hit the love bucket in one toss!

all n' all, a pretty sweet ride

Dude is old, but still KILLS it

You've all heard this one

Shabu Shabu

2009-03-20T20:46:00.000-07:00

A lot of Japanese girls come into my work, fucking tons. We get straight Pearl Harbored every day. I like them. They are so white, almost transparent, and doughy, like raw Pillsbury croissants. I was contemplating this today and I remembered this old one I wrote:

Shabu Shabu

Oriental girls walk together from the Shabu Shabu House with skin so dark they would make Hawaii jealous

They're arm n' arm, an intimacy reserved for the East, visible only to me upon importation, like anime or Pocky or special magic eye drops

Their flowy empire blouses may look dated on a white girl

Their tricot leggings may look dated on a white girl, if worn under mini skirts the way they don them

Their asymmetrical haircuts may look dated on a white girl

Their shoes are Chuck Taylor's which will never look dated on a white girl

They wear these items with a newness that suggests the height of fashion and picture of comfort

I heart them

Hugo Yunker: Hunter Becomes Prey

2009-03-20T00:17:00.000-07:00

YanYan aka Hugo Yunker

YanYan aka Hugo Yunker with titties and spoon necklace

I really like YanYan. I hate to admit that because she's kind of cocky and i wouldn't want to feed her ego. She often says, writes or creates things that makes me say, "I wish I had thought of that." Most of our communication has been saying really terrible things to each other over the internet. She drinks sparks and eats sardines every night for dinner.

She herself is the broad that has combed endless porn sites, finding people we mutually know engaged in publicly viewable sex acts. Her direct discoveries have wound up on Wee Ginger Cunt no less than 3 times, maybe 4. This is an important fact because in a classier and way rad way SHE has joined the ranks of internet porn personality when she modeled for Richard Kern and became the subject of an episode of the Vice TV show, Shot by Kern. She’s fucking stoked to be shot by such a revered shutterbug and I’m fucking stoked to FINALLY see her vagina. I thought Chinese girls’ pussies opened left to right?!??

If you like to see her speak and move those bare breasts and that spoon necklace around please see here:

haikuler than a polar bears toenails

2009-03-19T03:42:00.000-07:00

cutty buddies rule
i'm glad that you are so cool
'cause now i have two

Giger Resurgence

2009-03-18T21:11:00.000-07:00

I have said on this very blog that 2009 is the year of the ginger; our year to shine. There are gingers popping up in the damndest places. Dont trip if there's a red president in 2012.

This is what the late-to-the-ging-party motherfuckers at Vice had to say about it. I love you Viceland!

The ginger resurgence
This post was written on March 17, 2009
Posted Under: hair

Either redheads have been getting way more action over the past few decades than we all thought, or L’Oreal’s sales of red hair dye have gone supersonic, because there are a hell of a lot of new gingers out there at the moment.

I can only assume that this is yet another part of the 90s revival, along with dungarees, DMs and people who, despite the fact they were about seven when it came off air, talking about how much they loved My So Called Life.

If, like me, you are now sprouting grey hairs, you will remember with nostalgia the first joyful application of rancid, eye-watering, toxic red hair dye. I think the shade I first turned to was something called “Berry Heaven” and I got it for about £2 from Boots. I remember stroking all the little nylon strips stuck along the bottom of the shelf that were supposed to show you how your hair was going to look after three hours of red battery acid scorching your head. The result, of course, never turned out like expected.

My friend Alix reminded me the other day of mahogany Shaders and Toners. Remember that? And can you remember hair mascara? Sweet mother of ill-advised attempts at punk! It was like wiping emulsion on your hair. It came out at around the same time many of my friends were trying to look like Angel from Home and Away by plaiting the two little bits of hair at the front (take note, 90s revivalists) and wearing anything white and made of crochet. By combining these fringe plaits with hair mascara, we successfully managed to make ourselves look like the entrance to a car wash.

The best thing about all those red 90s hair dyes was the fruity names the cosmetics companies had to resort to in order to disguise the fact that they were basically selling bottled gingivitis (I know, I know, that’s a side effect of malnutrition, but come on, it works). There was plum, cherry, bronze, berry, auburn, burnt caramel, mahogany and copper. Sometimes you’d get a combination of the two, so, for example, my friend Milly was a burnt copper-mahogany girl. No matter what combination you had, the colour always lightened to a glorious shade of Boris Becker after only a few hours in the sun.

The combination of semi-permanent plum hair dye and Sun-In will go down in fashion history as one of the worst hairborne toxic events in the twentieth century. And this summer, with all that newly dyed red hair flicking about, it will be creeping back on to the scalps of unsuspecting young hipsters across the country.

You have been warned.

NELL FRIZZELL

Your favorite comics are fucking retards

2009-03-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

So, I ride past the Improv every day on my up Melrose to work. I always notice these abominable portrait murals. I finally traipsed down on my lunch and shot them. They are basically paintings of your favorite celebrities if they were suddenly stricken with adult on-set Downs Syndrome.

YAAAY! Marlin Wayans was born with an extra chromosome

Is that David Spade or Ellen Degeneres? Either way I'ma get up in them guts.

Straight up short bus Drew Carrey

OK, This one's pretty spot on

This dude is waaay before my time. I think he was in Princess Bride or some shit

Oh, Hell No. For real? Leno? isn't this nigga ugly enough without retardifying him in aerosol?

Haiku Wars

2009-03-12T21:50:00.000-07:00

(no photo, yet)

This ain’t no mustache party y’all, and it ain’t no yacht rock ball. In fact, it ain’t a trend yet at all. This Haiku Wars and it’s a Silverlake to Bk. original.

It seems that the strict structure of the age-old literary device known as the haiku (3 line poem, 1st line 5 syllables, 2nd line 7 syllables, 3rd line 5 syllables, again) allows one to say things you normally wouldn’t in convo or free verse.

Step into the HAIKU ZONE…..

It’s all love, I guess
You two are like some frat bros
Sorority slut

Haiku

2009-03-10T20:52:00.001-07:00

Because you said that you like it when i write about you

My Dope mans grew mold
Nike Swoosh frowns on New York
No kicks since you left

Authors note: The photo of my moldy Cortezes featured above is real. I keep all of my slippers in plastic shoes boxes, this makes them easy to sort and stack. I've done this for along time without discovering live cultures living in my kicks. All of the sudden I pull my dope mans out to complete the perfect gangsta-cas(ual)-mac outfit and, voila, a fucking 5th grade science fair 3rd prize winner.

Thou Shalt Always Kill

2009-03-10T19:15:00.000-07:00

Wait, wait, wait, Crass is not JUST a band.

Thou Shalt Always Kill - Dan Le Sac VS Scroobius Pip

Ok, I know this shit came out 2 full years ago but its been on the WGC turntable tough in the '09. Plus, we some Americans any-goddamn-way.

The Beatles… Were just a band.
Led Zepplin… Just a band.
The Beach Boys… Just a band.
The Sex Pistols… Just a band.
The Clash… Just a band.
Crass… Just a band.
Minor Threat… Just a band.
The Cure… Just a band.
The Smiths… Just a band.
Nirvana… Just a band.
The Pixies… Just a band.
Oasis… Just a band.
Radiohead… Just a band.
Bloc Party… Just a band.
The Arctic Monkeys… Just a band.
The Next Big Thing.. JUST A BAND.

Here's the stoppy-ass video if you want to waste 3 minutes 26 seconds more of your life

The Cunt Moves To Silverlake!

2009-03-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

After 7 wonderful years in the depths of the downiest sectors of Downtown Los Angeles, Wee Ginger Cunt has up and moved to the suburbs of Sunset Junction, Silverlake, CA.

This uprooting and subsequent replanting occurred for a plethora of reasons. Some of you know some of those reasons. Most of you probably don’t realize that I had taken a job at a near-by coffee shop. When I realized that nearly everyone at the coffee shop, including the patrons and the young black boys who lip-synched Fishbone songs, fake playing real guitars, jumping around the real stage wildly, were all working in unison through some sort of ritualistic behavior to read my mind and control my thoughts! Yeah, I was as surprised as you are. Needless to say I had to split, landing right here in the hills of Silverlake. Now I have a cat named Sidney and a lovely roommate named Maria.

Home is...

where the <3 is

Women against Weezy?

2009-03-03T20:50:00.000-08:00

OH Hell NO!

P.S.,
This shit was totally painted AFTER the election. They were so busy getting ups that they didn't realize.

Paint By Numbers

2009-02-21T20:17:00.001-08:00

Notice Me

2009-02-07T20:50:00.000-08:00

That's all I'm really asking for.

"That's where you like to shop."

2009-02-07T20:42:00.001-08:00

"No, that's where YOU like to shop!"

It's a fucking outlet. I thought Ed Hardy already had an outlet...It's called The Alameda Swapmeet.

old friends

2009-01-27T21:17:00.000-08:00

I used to ask to copy your algebra homework before class.

...I was totally asking for the wrong favor.

Hater Alert: this time it's personal

2009-01-24T12:35:00.000-08:00

"Keep my name up out your mouth and we can keep it the same, Nigga" -Dr. Dre

An open letter to a certain hating-ass Irish Downtowner who, at this time, will remain nameless,

It seems that I'm quite the topic of conversation for you lately. I can't believe that you would call Cousin-Camille with all sorts of bizarre accusations and ramblings, getting her all worked up. You said that you were worried about my GF because you saw me at 107 with a girl? What The Fuck Dude, that's some bitch shit. I fucking go to the bar with hella broads. They're my fucking friends. Half of the world's population is female and half of my friends are girls. duh!

And how about the Celtic X Celtic hate? What's next, are you going to throw rocks at the Irish half of Jessica Pell?

Yo, listen, I've never counted you among my close friends but I liked you and I thought we were cool. You can hate me all you'd like but please stop launching these gay reckless hater attacks just because you want to dish with your girlfriends about what the "boys" are up to Downtown. It stressful to my household and to my situation and they are hurtful to more than just me.

I'd love to just forget all about this whole incident and just mark you as a person with jealousy issues and hateful tendencies but I'm not sure if the block will let me let this go. Motherfuckers remember this type of shit.

In closing, I'd just like you to slow your roll and cease the jabs at the most important relationship I've ever had in my life.

Steffi and I the day we packed our wagon and first headed west way back in '02

L.A.'s a riot

2009-01-15T08:26:00.000-08:00

That's every hour of every day. Fuck your city. Fuck your state

Jonny Make-Up X Wee Ginger Cunt: The Fuckin' Interview

2009-01-11T17:54:00.000-08:00

"QUIT DROOLING, VOTE FOR ME"-Jonny Make-Up

It's Sunday and today’s the day that I’m to interview Jonny make-Up, homo star of stage and screen. I’m eager as Jonny's beaver to talk about Banks Band Break-Ups, upcoming singles with T.L.C mega-producer Dallas Austin and the rumors that he’s a pussy loving queer-not.

I’m on my way to pick Jonny up from Dov’s Silverlake mansion in the sky.

Jonny floats down the stairs as I notice a large Shepard-type canine “must be a new addition”, I think of the guard dog.
Jenny “Miami” Moyal accompanies Jonny. It’s a hilltop reunion and we all kiss our respective hellos and good byes.

“Hey can we start the interview process at the Mexican barbershop?” Jonny asks politely, which for Jonny make-Up can sound like down right pleading. “Of course we can, Jonny.”

At the International Beauty salon on Echo Park Blvd Jonny sits down in the barber chair surrounded by myself, Stephanie in the role of Cunt photographer and Make-Up’s fill-in stylist for the day, Rosario. He’s a star and everyone in the spot knows it.

Wee Ginger Cunt: How do like to get your fade did? (I ask pointing to the standard “boy’s haircut” poster displayed on the wall.)
Jonny Make-Up: In between #25 and 26. It’s a bowl cut but foofed to the side. I usually work with Nelly. Nelly’s not here so Rosario is taking care of me today. When Nelly gets back she’s gonna finger wave it. It’s gonna be my Spring/Summer ’09 look.

WGC: There’s a pretty big rumor circulating the factory and elsewhere that you’re not gay.
Jonny: Everyone always says that; that it’s just an act and I really like girls. I don’t understand it
WGC: I don’t understand either.
Jonny: I mean I get to hang out with a lot of beautiful women and models and stuff but I like boys and I always have.
WGC: Tory told me that he tried to kiss you and you shied away.
Jonny: I’m very like that. Once you give me a little of what I want I shy away
WGC: Even Tory, he’s a pretty hot dude?
Jonny: I know, even from Tory

WGC: Who do you hate more the kids from Gravy Train or Cazwell.
Jonny: Well I’m kinda pissed off at Cazwell right now. He always asks me to come to New York to perform with him. When he played at my friend Jaime’s gig he didn’t even ask me to come so I’m a little pissed off at him right now.
WGC: He probably just forgot.
Jonny: How could you forget about me when you’re singing a song that I’m singing on? He just let the hook play!

WGC: Why do people say that things are the new black?
Jonny: I don’t know, someone told me that I was the new black.

WGC: How the fuck did you get involved with Dallas Austin?
Jonny: Well, I’ve been working with this dude Cory Enemy, who is an amazing producer. He worked on a Miss Shapes remix of [a song by] my old band V.I.P Party Boys. This label signed us but we were dropped by the end of our first European tour because of the drug use of my band mates.
Wee Ginger Cunt: You don’t drink, you don’t do drugs, I think Tyra should send you to rehab for being a pussy.
Jonny: NO! I’m not a pussy. I wish you could have met me when I was bangin’ the H and bangin’ the K. Anyways, The re-mix never really went anywhere and I kept telling Cory how bad I wanted to go solo. I started to work with Cory on my first single Blacklisted and right after that he got a big production deal with Dallas Austin and moved to Atlanta. I thought I would never, ever, ever, be able to work with him again, but then Cory introduced me to Dallas and I guess we kinda hit it off. I gave him the charm. He pinky promised me that I could come and work with him and Cory in the studio in Atlanta.

WGC: That must have been exciting.
Jonny: Yeah, He was like “come to the ATL and work on your album, don’t be scurred.”
When I flew out there I had to hold back tears so many times when I saw the T.L.C. platinum record and the Madonna platinum record and the Pink platinum record I’m like, “OMFG, I’m here”
WGC: I think you’re way better than Pink.
Jonny: (laughs) Thank You

WGC: So, When can we expect this new single?
Jonny: The single’s coming out by mid January on Viva Radio dot com.
WGC: That sounds kind of wishy washy, can we just say January 15th?
Jonny: Yeah, let’s say January 15th

You can get more of Jonny in pretty much every corner of the interweb, including:

Mishapes.com
streetboners.com
and, get ready for the new single Earthquake/Heartbreak on
viva radio sometime this month.

Jonny and Cazwell with their jam I seen Beyonce at Burger King

On Deck: Ghost Face Killa-GhostDeini The Great

2009-01-04T09:12:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows that I name check Mr. Tony Starks among my favorite rappers whenever favorite rappers are discussed. I love all of his joints. Even when More Fish came out and people were talking shit, I still thought it was brilliant

Well, my brother bought me GhosDeini The Great for Christmas. It's a"best of", of sorts with 2 new tracks and an accompanying DVD. This Comp is haphazardly put together and a little fucking boring.

The bonus DVD depicts the before-and-during of a GFK live show, which would have been entertaining except said live show takes place in Orange County for a room full of the white and brown backpackers that comprise the SoCal Indie Hip Hop Set; the most annoying of all regional Hip Hop sub-sects. Oh, and guess what, the pre-show rehearsal, which could have been the jewel of the live DVD was sans Ghost...He didn't show, leaving only footage of his goateed white boy temp. band. Yawnsville, population: Me

Of Course, track by track, Tony is still one of the most inventive, mystifying storytellers in the game. This is evident here in the track that inspired the title of worst Wu-related release in years, check it...

Ghost Deini - Ghostface Killah feat. Superb

Things I Like

2009-01-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

If Luxey can do a Things I Like entry, so can The Kid.
Here are just a few of the Things I Like...

1. Dodgers Fitted Caps

2. Accomplishing Goals

3. Ginger Stuff

4. Books from The 70s about Metaphysics

5. Baby Girls

6. Hearts and Arrows

ON DECK: Dert-Talk Strange

2009-01-03T09:40:00.000-08:00

"Take Your Brain On Space-Walks, Talk Strange Like Björk"-Rza

I’m a fan of concept albums, rock operas, themed restaurants, and this sorta thing. It creates a point of reference with which you relate the other points and details of the experience.

I like it even more when this theme of themes is applied to a beat tape by L.A.’s emerging king of the concept, Dert. In past years Dert has given us Dert Floyd: The West Side of the Moon, poking around in the obstacle course that is Roger Waters’ head and making it Hip Hoppable.

This time he confronts your ex-girlfriend’s fucking favorite, the incomparable Bjork. Bjork, who as leader of The Sugarcubes, incidentally comprised 1/3 of the bill at my very first show with my then BFF Nate Gardner in the infancy of the 1990s. Bjork is always a point of nostalgia for me and this is probably the singular reason I haven’t yet smacked the shit up out of her.

Dert’s Bjork inspired beats capture the whimsy and light tread of Iceland and stir them up with Dillaesque drums and lackadaisical melodies. The perfect beat tape to queue if you’re sippin that sticky shit…if we did that out here in L.A.

The best part about these 18 Sunday afternoon bangers are that they are free. Download this shit here and pop it in on your way home from The Do-Over, perfecto.

Yes Please

2008-12-23T01:40:00.000-08:00

We are existing in the eye of a financial implosion. you will wait in line for soup before this is over. In fact, I predict that you personally will be on some Oliver "may I have more please" shit. Its a super scary look but some remain optimistic...

Andy says that more millionaires came from the 1930s than any other decade.

Stuart says that more relevant American advertising concepts and logos came from the 1930s than any other decade.

Andy looks broke as fuck and knows way too much about the Hollywood bus routes to ever be a millionaire and today I loaned Stuart $100.

National Socialists: Martha Stewart's Nazis

2008-12-20T10:09:00.000-08:00

Have you ever played next blog?
If you look at the top of this page you see the next blog icon. If you hit it you'll be transported to a random blog. Most of these blogs are fronted by bored moms in redneck locales, keeping us up to date every time their 18 month old rolls over or their 7 year old slays a deer with his daddy in the Kentucky woods.

Many of the blogs are in Spanish or Portuguese or some other godless language. These blogs are usually about gay local soccer teams. Heathens call it "futbol".

Well, I came across the most hilarious next blog ever when i discovered the official blogspot for The National Socialists, that's right, America's Nazi Party.

Unlike Hitler's rapid re-industrialization of Germany in the 1930's, Rommel's U.S. proteges have a different strategy for feeding the new Aryan revolution....the making and selling of soap.

This soothing swastika soap probably won't be available at Sabon in SoHo

The fuck does "88" mean, anyway?

OK, since Tom Cruise did it I feel like I can finally say it, too...Nazis were cool. I mean the original Nazis, not the hillbilly arts and crafts queer Nazis of the American National Socialists.

They look super cool, goose-stepping is way hipper than normal marching, rad haircuts, Lugers, dude, Lugers are sweet. oh, the 1939 Olympics! I cry a little every time i see Adolf out there with his funny little quips and gestures, intesified by the twitchy attributes of early 20th Century film technology.

I wish they could have been cool. The whole "killing tons of my ancestors" thing fucking bums me out because I feel like I would have been a damn good Nazi. I definitely have the hair for it.

Ginga Please!

2008-12-19T11:46:00.000-08:00

This ginger baby has appeared on The Cunt before, simply for having the irresistable traits of being both a ginger and an American Apparel model. Well guess what, she likes to dance naked in night clubs for College Fuckfest dot com.

I'm not mad at a ginger

I Am A Garment Worker

2008-12-18T13:35:00.000-08:00

I'm a garment worker and apparel manufacturing in Los Angeles has been effectively frozen...

This being the case I have been laid the fuck off and all of my still gainfully employed friends feel quite badly. They have come to comfort me with gifts of whisky and kisses.

Chris Berdine is my favorite.

Finance girls are definitely my favorite.

Like A Boot To The Brain

2008-12-17T17:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt like the world has straight kicked you in the head? Maybe the kick is something internal, like a tiny karate foot embedded in your brain.

Endless Celestial Sex: Understanding Mormonism

2008-12-17T17:11:00.000-08:00

For the record, I think the makers of this pretty rad looking cartoon are haters. Let a fucking Mormon be a fucking Mormon. Their ideas are wacky but we all believe things that aren't true. When I pay some filthy slut of a prostitute for a real "GF experience" she's not really my girlfriend, but for those 7 minutes she's my everything, my boo for real. That's something I choose to believe.

I will give it to this cartoon; it was informative. I was truly stoked to hear the Mormon Church's explanation for the Negro Race. I can't wait for the sequel where they promise to explain the origins of The Gingers.

F.T.W. like a nympho

2008-12-05T17:40:00.000-08:00

How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?

If you can't touch their titties, why even have granddaughters?

2008-12-03T16:27:00.000-08:00

Dude, this guy won!!

Quote Of The Day

2008-11-21T13:37:00.000-08:00

So today's q.o.t.d is another BBM. This time from the homegirl Preezy...

"Yo, there's this guy that always comes into my work hollering hella hard, talkin' bout how much he wanna spend money and shit. I always thought he was hollering at my co-workers but turns out he's trying to get at me. I just didn't know cause he has this ridiculous lazy eye."

When I'm talking about homie and I say, "not a good look", I really mean that shit.

ja, bitte

2008-11-20T19:02:00.000-08:00

Free Consuling

2008-11-17T15:39:00.000-08:00

I found this flyer near the soda fountain at McDonald's. Free consuling? Legal help, too? The single parenthesi? "All from , "God Gifted". I like to see the entrepreneurial spirit in the hood, but fuck!

And what's with the photo of the bitch clutching her purse and shit? It's all so illogical that you could kill a Vulcan simply by passing him this paper.

I think mama would of had better luck applying to the Mickey D's where she was handing out these leaflets.

I implore upon everyone reading this post to call the number on the flyer. receive your free spiritual and/or legal counseling and possibly split a 10 piece nuggets and a Lava Burst Orange Hi-C.

Taping Lifts

2008-11-16T17:33:00.002-08:00

Sometimes I tape industrial goings-on. Sometimes these videos are of elevators.

You could say that the footage speaks to the oppression of human ingenuity. The more we incessantly create machines, robots, artificial modes of transport, the more we separate ourselves from the natural world; inadvertently condemning our experience to one of inescapable isolation at almost a molecular level.

Or, you could just say that I’m taping lifts.

A

B

C

I gotta bitch named Kesha

2008-11-16T11:24:00.000-08:00

In the age old tradition of grand Hip Hop sex joints...

dickpleaser - lil wayne

If your a man

2008-11-14T14:11:00.001-08:00

I have my theories of what it means to be a man; a REAL man. It’s gotta be more than lifting the lid when you pee. If my theories are true, than I am certainly not one.

Real MEN command respect.

Real MEN know how to handle relationships with women.

Real MEN have spent time behind enemy lines as prisoners of war.

Real MEN file their taxes.

Real MEN know the glory of having a finger up their ass when they fuck.

Real MEN take the bull by the horns.

Real MEN don’t describe things as “cute”

Real MEN say things like, “If it’s got tits or wheels, it’ll give you problems”

Real MEN don’t instant message half their day, over-utilizing smiley face emoticons.

Real MEN get their dress shoes shined by old guys with jerri curls on Broadway.

When will I make this transformation? I'm staring down 30, right now. 30 is reflective like a mirror and all I see in my reflection is fitted caps and “holler back” and crack pipes and half pipes and track bikes and slap fights with black guys on dance night at Dance Right.

Oh, by the by, the photo above was taken in the super gross, co-ed private bathroom on the 7th floor of the factory. this particular restroom has been deemed by the factory kids as "the abortion clinic". Someone was such a stickler for grammar that they came back to the clinic with a sharpie and scribbled out the incorrect "your", changing it to "you're"

...oh, NOW I get it.

If y'all are so destitute why are you dressed so cute?: Prop 8 Protest

2008-11-13T11:42:00.000-08:00

Lyndsea, Quinten and I hopped on the Sunset-bound No. 2 bus with the dually-related purpose of participating in a march against the recently passed voter initiative that effectively bans gay marriage in California (The gayest state of them all) and tramples on the thousands of recent dude-on-dude/broad-on-broad unions that have taken place over the last 18 months and burning a fucking straight bar to the ground.

So we boarded, and peeeaced!

We arrived to a scene of gays, straights, moms, sisters, dykes, femmes, dads and more gays...

One problem. these people were serious about conducting a peaceful, respectable march. They wanted to come out in numbers showing their detest for this hateful new proposition, and they wanted to obey the law the whole time. FUCK!! We were high on visions of over turning Altimas and burning fucking straight people clubs to the ground, these jokers were bent on expressing their First Amendment rights.

Quinten and I started to get a little nervous...

It turns out my friends are more interested in drinking the backpack full of beers and arrowhead bottles of Andre we brought than organizing to protest this evil new entity in California:Proposition 8. If you, however, would like to show your contempt for this scam perpetrated by right wing jesus zombies,you can click here and find out how to march downtown this weekend. car burning optional

Tigerbeat-off: Shame on the Train

2008-11-13T11:21:00.001-08:00

So, if you live in this city and you steadily mob around in your whip, like always; you never bike or take the train I feel sorry for you.

While I agree that Big Boy in the Morning is fucking funny, Power 106 doesn’t have shit on the type of hilarity you’ll encounter while traversing via L.A.’s famously sparse public transit system.

This little nugget of perversion was snapped by my friend Candace yesterday while on a Southbound Caltrans to Orange County

This 40 something Mexican-dressed-as-as-a-Persian is thumbing through the latest copy of TIGERBEAT!

This fool has no shame in his game! I mean I want to fuck Zack Efron as much the next guy but I dont bust out my tween/twink jack rags on the fucking 6:00 to San Diego.

Sign ain't lie

2008-11-07T15:15:00.001-08:00

"He called me a NIGGER and told me that I must be poor or homeless because no one would carry a winter jacket around in July. I told him it was North Face and all was settled."

The Psychedelic Fred Rogers: Mr. R discovers Bruce Haack

2008-11-06T18:19:00.000-08:00

Das ist mein ganzes Leben in einer Videobüroklammer

Zu mehr über den unglaublichen Bruce Haack erlernen
Zu einiges von Bruce' hören; s materpieces in der Kindheit von electronica, klicken hier

HATER ALERT! HATER ALERT!

2008-11-05T15:02:00.001-08:00

This journalist represented Crunchilvania in the '04 Hater Olympics. He took home the copper in the 500 M salty look contest while failing to place in his other event, Heavyweight Men's Mean-Mugging.

PDX: The next Rap capital?

2008-11-04T15:36:00.000-08:00

Portland is my favorite rap city right now and your boy Ohmega Watts is the unofficial Bridge City mayor.

Let's see, we grew up in New York, popped our cherries in LA, got stoopy down south, Hyphy up north...are we really ready for that rainy day women rap?

peace to Fresh Selects and the Pac Northwest.

What do you tell a broad with a black eye?

2008-11-03T18:50:00.000-08:00

Nothing, someone's already told her.

Not only is Miami a rad punching bag, but she's also one of my favorite LA artists. check her other band with Pop levi.

Baby Mama Drama

2008-10-31T16:57:00.000-07:00

White people are crazy!!!

On Deck: Squarepusher-Just a Souvenir

2008-10-30T16:38:00.001-07:00

The new Squarepusher; Just a Souvenir came out this week. I’m always interested what that limey mofo comes up with, so I sauntered down to Tommy’s crib to give it a rotation.

WTF? It’s all over the place, but totes in a good way. Some of the tracks are like weird Power Pop-Rock tracks. Others sound like they are joint collabs with Yes and Flaming Lips. There is this one jam that sounds like Slash joined the circus for the summer and then wrote a song about it.

However, I know what you like. You like retarded drums and this record has that in spades, which is exactly why you should cop this shit here.

The Freshest Five

2008-10-27T16:45:00.000-07:00

Why is there so much ill shit, right now? Two years ago I was hungry for beats, fucking thirsty for rhymes. There was good rap on the radio but I was sleeping on the underground; opting instead to focus on the amazing feats being accomplished in the realm of Noise and Punk but you know that Wee Ginger Cunt needs that boom, bap, boom, boom, bap!

Well when it rains it pours and it’s fucking hailing dopeness, as of late. I see a lot of Dilla influence weaving through this new school, but fuck! Who hasn't been inspired by the great J.Dilla?

Without further rigmarole, I present the WGC Freshest Five…

Mr. Diabiase-Carrying Watts on his back

Devon-Carrying Portland on his back

Hi-Res-State to state, track to track

Das Racist- Kings of that Wikipedia rap

Suzi Analogue-Fuck you, I’m pretty

Blunt+Crush=Blush...See if you ain't heard

2008-10-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

"I'll crush a square"

Seeing how this is my second article on mentholated blunt smoking; I pretty much consider myself the premier journalist on the subject.

Unlike my prior piece, which dealt with Swisher’s Ideas of what menthol blunts might be like, this project was a tad more hands on.

A couple months ago I first came across camel’s new “Crush” cigarettes. They have some sort of capsule, tucked away in the filter, which will instantly mentholate the previously normal cigarette. This is obviously a gimmick to pull in young smokers that enjoy the experience of “Hearing the click and changing the taste”, as the box says.

Dudes, it totally works!

But I realize the pitfalls of tobacco smoking, no matter how delish it may be so I decided to attempt to extract the menthol-rich filter and drop it in the beezy.

I started with some real Cal-Cali,a normal Swisher (I was kinda feeling peach Optimos, but I thought I should try a standard Swisher as a form of scientific control) and the crush filter, from which i trimmed about a 1/4" from each end

Then I just ground my shit and tossed the loaded filter in the end. perfecto!

OK, so this thing was a million times better than that stupid menthol blunt that Swisher marketed. I'm telling you, motherfuckers are going to be on this shit. Smoking through the filter didn't seem to have any ill effects to the potency or draw of the blunt, just that cool winter breeze that you've been craving in a fucking weed blunt. Next stop LSD-infused York peppermint patties.

Juiceboxxx @ Pehrspace 10/20/08

2008-10-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

“I Don’t Want To Go Into The Darkness”

I saw Juiceboxxx rap at Pehrspace on Monday. It was an early show due to J-Boxxx’s 11:15 out of LAX.

Even with the tiny crowd that 9:00-on-the-dot performance draws and even though the store front that makes up Pehrspace was lit up more like a strip mall discount store selling baby cribs and strollers…Juiceboxxx killed it.

Hailing from Milwaukee, WI J.B. wields rave-rap of my favorite variety. The one thing that is true of any of his shows is his hilarious ability to move the crowd; quite literarily. He physical moves the kids at his shows around the room, pushing them against the wall and constantly reeling them back, with the request “Let’s bring it back in, y’all”

He’s crawls into every conceivable cubbyhole in the venue, stopping only to share creepily sweet moments, forehead-to-forehead with boys in the audience.

Juiceboxxx is a total slut and I love it.

Comme De Garcons for H&M

2008-10-20T13:54:00.000-07:00

HOLY SHIT!!

Like Lagerfeld and Viktor & Rolf before them, Comme De Garçons is taking a stab at “fashion for the masses” with their new line for über-retailer H&M.

Most of the stuff is looking pretty fly with price points high for H&M but hella cheaper than the Comme De Garcons pop-up shop next to 107.

X-Mas shopping for me just got a lot easier

Check the technique…

This is my shit, right here!

fucking fashion for the masses

Fresh dressed like 300 bucks?

saddle up, baby

I remember when the hood used to rock Looney Tunes short sets. Polka-dot is almost as crazy

These trainers are definetly the business.

Thanks to the homies at Nitrolicious

Because you need a little persuasion. Plus, you need a little ventilation.

2008-10-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

It was the Summer and we listened to all the Summer hits on the radio. Now, the night comes much earlier and I have been conditioned to believe that all of the radio jams are about you.

So, I started listening to the classics...

They were about you, as well. Then I remembered where I first heard that melody; it was 1996...

Good 'ol Wu Tang. I haven't yet figured out how their shit is about you.

Please Believe Me

2008-10-18T09:40:00.000-07:00

So, The Bruce SpringStreet DJ's are getting together for another installment of CRASS MONDAYS at Bar 107, this Monday, October 20th

It's traditionally a Punk night where we rinse classic Punk, Noise, Garage and shit like that.

However, I am going to play Ghettotech and Booty Bass, 'cause right now songs about Anarchy make me sad.

BAR 107 is located in lovely, historic Downtown LA on 4th Street between Spring and Main. We start at 10 and rage 'till you leave

Consumer RepWhore: Mexican Coke

2008-10-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

You guys are all sitting around drinking domestic Cokes like chumps.

NO NEED! They bring the good shit right over the border.

late last night I heard the screen door slam

2008-10-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

I wasn’t more than 15 when Joni Mitchell first convinced me that you don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone. It’s a lesson in temperance.

Here I am, 15 years later, paving paradise to put up a parking lot.

I suppose ample parking is important. Plus, who needs trees when you can visit a tree museum. I have a buck and a half, anyway.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

2008-10-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

Sundays in the park are my favorite...

On Deck: Ponytail Ice Cream Spiritual

2008-10-12T12:38:00.000-07:00

The Baltimore scene has received some much overdue attention over the last few years.

Lily Allen linking up with Aaron LaCrate and posting up in The B.

Rye-Rye is laying it down, doing tracks with M.I.A.

Club Queen K-Swift (RIP) brought B-More to the forefront, as well.

Ponytail sounds nothing like any of these people. Their record, Ice Cream Spiritual is just left of stoner rock with super-fun guitars and wispy song structures.

The loose writing fits nicely with the Maryland traditions established, of late with fellow Baltimorons Avey Tare, Panda Bear and the Paw Tracks posse

Molly Siegel’s vocals are squeaky and cooey, but throaty screams make cameos.

This record is straight B-More backyard boogie redefined. By the 5th song when my speakers proclaimed, “OH NO, I’M LATE FOR SCHOOL!!” I had become a Ponytail fanatic…Pull My Fucking Hair

We Are Free!!!

High Places/Abe Vigoda 10/10/08, The Smell

2008-10-12T11:40:00.000-07:00

As I walked up the alley leading to The Smell I noticed what looked like an in-between-set alley crowd of a smallish variety; strange given the year of popularity New York’s, High Places has enjoyed.

I soon found out that was because Ponytail was mid-shred and the fucking place was packed; SOLD OUT sign on the door. “High Places is playing for free at Family Bookstore, tomorrow” Jim was assuring turned away show-goers.

“FUUCCKK, I shouldn’t have stopped for that burrito”, I thought.

We stood around in the alley contemplating for a moment when a drunk-ass Blaque Chris, in his constant effort to con me into making him an Afrika print spandex bodysuit, gets us some looks in the door.

Inside, we were bummed that we only caught the last two songs by Ponytail but Abe was next and they were fucking loud; like super-loud for The Smell.

This was their last hometown show before heading on tour with Diplo and Telepathe and you could tell that they are fucking fluffed. Such a good set bringing new intensity to old songs and executing new ones flawlessly. They really are LA’s finest.

As Abe exited, my ears were noticeably fucked but High Places were already setting up a fence of flight cases along western border of the main stage. I posted and watched Mary and Robert, the boy/girl duo that comprise H.P. fine tune many knobs, pedals and drum pads necessary to what they do.

Soon the crowd flooded back in and I couldn’t help notice how fucking young this band’s fans are, like Menudo young!

So, High Places tweaked and twittled, the music constantly chasing Mary’s vocals like a kindergartener chases a kitten in the sunroom; almost catching up, only to have the thing once again spring away. It’s child-like only in it’s refusal to wear a cloak of contrived seriousness that none of us were looking for that night in the alley.

Consumer RepWhore:TLC 1-Use Vibrating Cockring

2008-10-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

So, I talk a lot of shit to girls. Stupid shit like, “I’m fittn’ to tear that ass up” or “I’m going to turn you inside out like a gym sock.”

Over the course of my life there has been quite varied reviews as to whether or not I can actually delivery on these promises/threats/vulgarities.

My prowess is not in question here BUT! You can imagine the type of shit I was talking when I was equipped with this fucking clit-tickling electric cockring.

I was like, “all right bitch, are you ready to get your face melted?” all fucking spreading the plastic tarp out on my bed, and shit.

This product from Topco sales in Van Nuys, CA (big surprise, there) promised that I would achieve “harder, longer erections” and that I would enjoy “15 minutes of powerful vibration” for my partner and me. I even positioned “the vibe on top of the penis for clitoral stimulation!”(There really was an exclamation point at the end of this sentence on the packaging).

The fucking thing was a dud…nada, nothing, no vibration. I’m sitting here with what looks like a Rainbow Brite necklace on my dick and fucking nothing. My dong looks like a candy raver. I have a fluorescently colored rum-barrel hanging from the collar of a miniature St. Bernard rescue dog. Like my cock is on a mission to save the life of a vagina stranded in the Swiss Alps.

Add this to the list of humiliating romantic mishaps I’ve achieved.

OK, I’m done.

Wave of Mutilation

2008-10-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

This is what happens to my apartment when Golden Browne leaves for a week...

It looks like a group of very fashionable boys exploded in my living room...

That's AM, motherfucker...No sleep 'till Brooklyn...

Will someone show me how to work this fucking dishwasher?

quote of the day

2008-10-08T14:10:00.000-07:00

our quote of the day comes from the fairy tailishly named, Tasi Rippel

"He looks like he smells like an old fridge."

I dont know what I LOOK like i smell like but I hope it's Drakkar and strawberries.

On Deck: Marnie Stern drops today

2008-10-07T18:20:00.000-07:00

So, marnie Stern dropped her new record, "This Is It and I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That" on Kill Rock Stars, today. which is the raddest album name ever, BTW!

If you're not familiar with Marnie's jams, she sounds like Yoko Ono fucked the band, Yes. Yes's amalgamated sperm created a baby, that baby raped Upsilon Acrux in the alley of The Smell and, voila, Marnie was born.

Of course, I neglected to pre-order this biatch so I can't actually review the new record. I mean, I'll get back to you, but unless she did a collab with the drummer of The Bravery, I'm pretty sure I will fucking love it.

ok, now let this bitch melt your face, real quick

uno mas...

thank you and good night.

Gnawing on the knowledge that I have been burned

2008-10-07T14:01:00.000-07:00

STILL learning things that I should have already learned. STILL scribbling down stupid shit. STILL can't even remember if we were lovers, or if I just wanted to...

I'm starting to think Maxim Magazine is a rag for undercover gays, dudes painting their face, an ambiguous haze...I'd rather pace in place...a pathetic junkie on his way into space....I'm WAY into space....that's why I see galaxies when i stare at your face....Speckled constellations compete for recognition there in your eyes (originally written 03/12/04)

What the fruit?

2008-09-27T14:25:00.000-07:00

I've been straight chugging cok all day.

Quenten didn't tell me till now. I probably should have realized that Greek words are a suspect look on an OJ carton when you live in California.

looking good is a state of mind

2008-09-26T19:00:00.000-07:00

*you're like my own little West Coast Neneh Cherry*

This might seem like an obvious look to grown folks, but the kids out there really are not up on this one. I KNOW!! I was as shocked as you are, cousin.

Plot to blow up the Eiffel Tower

2008-09-21T16:39:00.000-07:00

Came home to find that my shoe tower fell, oh hell, oh well I'ma ship the shit to Goodwill.
I wanna let you all know you'll never see me with Sperry's on my toes.

no joke!!

tassel loafers, YES...boat shoes, NO!

It was just a dream

2008-09-21T15:46:00.000-07:00

Paige has returned from Paris. The Frenchmen have done the opposite. Summer is now over and the shift has returned everything in my beloved Downtown to how it once was.

Well, almost everything...

Married to the Struggle

2008-09-19T17:22:00.000-07:00

until every ginger is free...

Get your Laws off my Language

2008-09-18T18:15:00.001-07:00

In my constant effort to stay fly I decided that I would buy some brand-new, shiny Air Max 90s at lunch, because frankly, Stunting doesn’t happen by itself.

I like to think globally and cop locally so I called the Downtown Blends sneaker shop to inquire about their current selection. The girl on the other end seemed kind of trife from the get go, our conversation went something like this

Ring, Ring…

Shoe broad: hello, Blends
Me: Sup, I was wondering if you guys had any fresh Air Max 90’s on deck right now
Shoe broad: what?
Me: what Air Max 90s do guys have right now?
SB: (laughing) who is this?
M: Just a customer trying to cop some Nikes
SB: is this another store?
M: What, why?
SB: Because noone really talks this way
M: what way?
SB: like you!
M: um, yo, I’m really not sure what you mean, I’ma just come down and look for myself
SB: ok
M: aight then

When I arrived I picked out the lovely red and black numbers you see pictured here. I was fucking with a dude clerk and all but forgot about the strange interaction I had with shoe broad on the phone. Then, sauntering out from the back room comes a damp-rat of a white girl with an ill fitting Adidas track jacket and an air of retarditude. Homegirl looked more like she should be working at Mervyn’s or REI than Blends. I asked her what was up with weirdness on the phone.

She proceeded to explain that I used “a lot of text book Hip Hop terms” that to her sounded contrived.

Bitch, what?

I’m not sure which text book she brushed up on before deciding it safe to come downtown but bitch needs to go back to Costa Mesa and brush way more upper. She’s way to used to selling Creative Recs to sluts and surfers.

I spit classics. Not a game…life.

The only way you’ll get my slang from me is by prying it from my cold, dead lips.

Burn the church, Burn the State, Burn the $$ that makes us hate

2008-09-18T18:15:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that fireworks are fully my steez. For real, I reach into jackets i haven't worn all Winter and instead of being stoked on a $20, I'm super-stoked to find a stash of M80's. Pop my trunk, see if you don't find bottle rockets in several powerful denominations. I should be passing out safety goggles on 1st dates. I think I may be Greek.

Nice legs, what time do they open?

2008-09-09T16:40:00.001-07:00

What if I had a normal job, Like practicing law or working at a non-profit where there would be a very slim chance of anyone dropping trou in my office, let alone a mocha-choca-latte like we have here.

Searching for my Baby Mama

2008-09-08T16:56:00.000-07:00

It’s apparent that I’m a magnet for motherfuckers lost photographs. Wherever I tread I seem to discover snapshots of people that are perfect strangers. Strangers, that is, until the moment my hand touches the photos and I get stuck; Obsessed with the unanswerable...

Who are they?

Where are they?

How did they lose their precious Disneyland flicks at the Valero petrol station on 4th street and Alameda?

This photographic find was special, however. Look mi ruca in the eyes and explain to me how you don’t fall in heart with her. For real, please explain!! Your boy is starting to lose sleep on this one.

I’m on some L-Boogie: Loving girl is like a song I replay every 3 minutes and 30 seconds of every day!

And all we really know about her man is that he

A) Spotted for some Disneyland tix, and

B) Dude likes to wear different silly hats

Dear girl in the flicks,

If were your man I wouldn’t have to floss with different types of pirate hats because I’d be wearing YOU like a hat…that’s what I call rocking LA above the brim. I also vow that you wouldn’t have to eat dinner in Anacrime again, unless your tia lives out there or some shit.

Xo,
RL

My friend told me that I shouldn't fall so hard in like with all these Latin broads cause they turn into gummy bears after 30…WHAT??!!?

I’ll worry about that when that shit come to fruition. Right now, I bow before the alter of my Mexican Mami’s. Puro La Raza!! Puro La Rojo por siempre!!

Swimming With Bunnies...and Armenians

2008-09-07T14:15:00.000-07:00

Such an amazing party yesterday in the Hills. Big Props to House of Hype and Coulter Cadillac for providing sweet escalades. Big props to Affliction Clothing who apparently provided the uniform.

Also, a special thanks to the black guy on the hill with the yellow tie that was so accommodating to me and my group of friends.

also, also, the fat guy with the yellow Polo button-up shirt and City of West Hollywood. Best end of the summer party EVER

Consumer RepWhore: Iophen-C NR Cough Syrup w/ Codeine

2008-09-02T15:16:00.000-07:00

Codeine Cough Syrup enjoys several monikers within the Hip Hop vernacular; Purple Drank, Sizzurp, Lean.

I’ve personally been on that purple stuff for many years. Before Weezy sang its placid praises and before Pimp-C died from the shit.

I was first introduced to the lean machine when Golden Browne was still a wee high school girl battling an ecstasy-induced bout of chronic bronchitis. Her Scottsdale physician was a bit of a pediatric Dr. FeelGood and she passed this wonder tonic out with the slightest complaint of a scratchy throat.

I sipped the sizzurp steady and once again, much like White Owl Blunts and Nike Dunks, I was well ahead of the Crunk-Curve. I had very little luck acquiring the sticky serenity-sap from my trips to various AZ-based general practitioners and family doctors.

As my persona matured a bit my dreads came off, my piercings fell out and I re-gained the weight I had lost during a period of daily meth injections I found that attainment of this good-time grail became easier and easier. As it turns out, doctors are a little uneasy doling powerful liquid narcotics to obviously strung out punk junkies.

The thing I want to stress to my faithful and beloved Wee Ginger Cunt readers is this: Lean ain’t just for redheads and rappers YOU TOO can have fun getting fucked on liquid codeine. Here’s the why, where and how of sippin’ on the sizzurp…

1.WHY?- Sipping lean gives you the fuzzy body high you know and love vicodin for. Like vics, lean is great when cocktailed with marijuana and booze. Also, Lean is pretty rad to bust out with all your cracker-ass friends. You get Southern-fried street cred and your friends get a cool Sunday afternoon soiree story to tell at the sorority house. Rosalinda partook at Matt Goldman’s pre-Fuck Yeah Fest pool party atop the Standard Hotel on Saturday. 15 minutes later she was grinding with a sunk-chested Armenian boy. Definitely a good look.

2.WHERE? - No need to canvas 6th street between Maple and Main, you can get this shit from your doctor! It’s best to go in when you actually have a tiny cough or a little congestion. Medical doctors are dumb but they aren’t morons and this probably ain’t your doctor’s first fake-flem rodeo. You usually get a re-fill so the second bottle will be all yours for healthy horse-play.

3.How? - Probably the most popular lean libation is sizzurp and Sprite. Yeah, Pimp C overdosed on the shit but don’t be a little pussy, pour liberally. Mix it like its vodka 7-Up, roughly half and half. On the go, I suggest chugging from the bottle, fuck the mixer. Caution, this can get hairy when your friends (Greg, Jason) that act as purple drank parasites and enjoy chugs when they should be enjoying sips.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Start your Leaning!!!

Fuck The Pain Away

2008-08-29T16:48:00.001-07:00

I make clothing for sluts. I knew that. I revel in that, really. To think that something I helped to develop will end up wrapped around the ankles of a stranger during a bar bathroom-stall fuck session. Or that panties I designed are right now, right at this minute thinly coated with the snail-trail of a horny Midwestern 18 year old co-ed as she stares across the quad at that boy from Poli-Sci who she is definitely going to fuck at tonight's mixer...It's a good look for sure.

Its not just sexually-minded amatuers who love our clothes. The pros dig Dov's digs, as well. These shots were taken by my friend and porn propagator, Adam at Naughty America.

We like it this way. Only GOD can judge us.

GOLDEN ANKLETS

2008-08-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

...Golden Anklets are my favorite

I Love Rock N' Roll

2008-08-27T20:03:00.000-07:00

When I fucked Becky Stark from Lavender Diamond, she hit that high note that’s how you know I be shinin’

After I boned down Black Black, I never text back, now I have the whole band paging me like, “Where that Dick at?”

Juan from Abe, he’s been giving me brain. We keep it on the hush cause in the hood I’m not gay

Dean and Randy, I aint gonna talk shit, but I had ‘em on their knees like a couple of chicks. I was fiddlin’ with their asses like a couple of clits

Ariel Pink took two in the stink. What do I say, I’m in love with them twinks

Mika Miko had to get a new drummer; I filled Kate with so much jizz she was fucked all summer

Even Jim Smith got a slice of dis dick, only he was on top, yup, I was HIS bitch. Dude was stone-cold, he didn't say shit!

Dear Mae Shi, your record was horrible but your cheeks spread open; now that was adorable

I made Baseck taste it. Sprayed jam in his eye that’s my kinda lasek

Jesus Christ, I love L.A. A pretty good sound and a damn good lay

The Trifecta of Death

2008-08-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

On Seinfeld it was said that pigeons and humans have a certain unspoken agreement. They are expected to get out of the way of our vehicles and we, in turn, will treat all of the other gross city-bird stuff they do with an air of benevolence.

Well, probably not the first time since George decimated Manhattan’s pigeon population THE DEAL HAS BEEN BROKEN.

Real life is often more fantastical than the scenes penciled in NBC’s studio. This tale is such a case. This tale of speed, sweat and animal sacrifice is set completely on the saddle of a bicycle

This play has three acts...

Act I: A Date with Destiny

I’m riding the Surly home from my long day at the factory. A gaggle of pigeons gather in the westbound lane of 7th near Wall. The birds were feeding from the crumbs of the crumb-less as my bicycle fast approached. The instincts of the heard screamed “Break Right!” most did and found the safety of the sidewalk.

The Destiny Pigeon broke left and met with the 700CC tire of my bike wailing like a buzz saw.

The creature was instantly smashed, as if hit with a model-sized Japanese bullet train. I didn’t stop, for the deed was done and Rite Aid was about to close.

Act II: Fivel Dies West

I’m manning my BMX, enjoying the many sweet jumps created downtown when the sidewalk panels are shifted and A-framed by earthquakes and the exploratory roots of ancient trees.

A squadron of thick, brown rats scurried across my path.

Instantly remembering my murderous meeting with the bird, I actually thought, “That’d be fucked up to run over a rat.”

Just then, a lone rodent leaped in front of me. The thick treaded tires of my 24” dirt bike broadsided the rat dead center. It had the look of a fur and cherry Popsicle that had been snapped in half while still in the plastic. The rat skin wrapper splits where the spine splinters. A tiny pool of blood begins to ooze onto the concrete.

Act III: Greed, Greed, Greed

Realizing that lightning rarely strikes thrice, I continued my daily two-wheel commute. Again i'm on 7th, again i approach the flock of pigeons in a feeding frenzy. This time their instincts are in unison and the whole bunch flutter to the right. My shoulders sink as my body eases. I realize that no pigeons will die by my hand this day.

Just then, a reckless bird, greedy for more bread crumbs lunges back in my path. The weight of bike and man snap its neck and surround it in blood.

In an almost Michael Phelpsish degree of completeness, three creatures find skid row their final place of rest because of one ghost peddler.

A trifecta of death

Cactus Juice for Blood

2008-08-12T22:23:00.001-07:00

The Sonoran Desert is my home.

I have cactus juice for blood and a bite that doesn't kill directly from venom like that of the rattle snake but rather shuts your organs down, one by one with a bacteria as the great Gila Monster.

Raveliness is next to Godliness

2008-08-12T18:33:00.001-07:00

The closest thing to religion that I've experienced

Girls in Yoga: Popping a major 3rd eye boner

2008-08-03T01:15:00.000-07:00

Girls in Yoga.

Boy, are there girls in Yoga. The Kind of dark girls with short, tight workout shorts emblazoned with 3 stripes descending their hips; letting me know they're trendy and brand-conscience.

The kind of tanned, toned girls you would see on college campuses, but you'd never know. With olive skin that makes you guess that they are half Italian and half Jewish.
With shiny, thick hair the color of 8:30 PM, pulled back tightly and either spurting from the back of their heads like a confused volcano or wrapped into a less-than-taught bun, resembling the type of brain cactus you can buy from Home Depot.

Our Yoga is performed in a hot room and as the girls warm-up their tiny Adidas shorts and white sports bras become translucent, like delicate membranes; a second skin to protect their real skin from parasitic eyes.

As they warm up beads of sweat race down their bodies like they themselves race to class in places like USC, vanilla soy latte in-tow.
Early-bird beads begin first descending at a steady pace, because they have time. Descending their necks and arms.
Then, the late-comer beads race down their spines, bent on catching up, like they race to French class in places like Madison, Wisconsin or Tempe, Arizona; where I pretended to go to school.

The sweet sweat, which surely tastes of sugar water, scales their spines, surpasses the smalls of their backs, where it is swallowed by the exposed cracks of their glorious asses, like sideways smiles, slurping the last bit of hard lemonade from their red, plastic cups in places like Ann Arbor, Michigan or Tempe, Arizona, where I pretended to attend college.

The girls in my life are tall and airy and aristocratic.

The girls in yoga are shorter, more compact and rooted in reality, with thick muscular stems. They look like they could crack a walnut between their thighs. God, I would love to be that walnut, lying before my momentary obsession, crack-shelled and exposed, as I would most certainly, eventually be. Offering my pulp-self because that is all I have left to offer.

I'ma teach you how to stunt

2008-07-23T17:39:00.000-07:00

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

check it...

Water on Witches

2008-07-20T11:53:00.003-07:00

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!!

2008-07-16T18:40:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-16T17:53:00.000-07:00

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.