- Bonusland: Not to mention, God TOLD Onan to impregnate the bitch.
- whlteXbread: Wow, how do I not remember who Onan was?
- Bonusland: OK, here's the story.
- Onan was a dude, he had a brother, his brother had a wife.
- God didn't like the brother, so he killed him. Said he was evil and shit.
- So then God said to Onan, go fuck this broad. Your dead brother's wife. We need more babies because there's only like 23 people in the world so far.
- whlteXbread: Who was Onan the son/relative of?)
- Bonusland: The son of Judah and Shua.
- So, Onan banged his used-to-be-sister-in-law-but-now-she's-a-widow, but he felt bad about it so he pulled out.
- Or, "spilled his seed on the ground." as Moses called it.
- whlteXbread: And then Onan got dead?
- Bonusland: So yeah. God didn't like Onan's birth control method, especially when God wanted a Godson, so he killed Onan.
- Technically the first Skeet ever.
- Or at least the first documented one.
- whlteXbread: right. i love this: "so then God said to Onan, go fuck this broad."
You Talk to Me
Interviews and conversations that speak to us.
Bonusland talks to whiteXbread about Onan
Dillweed talks to Anderew W.K. about hitting on girls
Dillweed:
Andrew, my friend told me you hit on her at a bar in NYC. Her name was Leslie and she said you smelled really bad. Is this true?
Saturday, April 3, 2004
Andrew W.K.:
Dear Dillweed, You’re right, I did hit on her. I hit on her all night until she was bloody and smashed beyond recognition. Right when I got into the bar I walked right up to her and hit her right on the head and then I hit her in the stomach and smashed a beer bottle in her teeth and then I hit her elbows together so that they cracked and splintered. But that was only the very begining - I put on some construction gloves and grabbed her face and crunched it as I hard as I could so that the skin got all torn and scraped off - then I took a chair and put the leg of the chair on her stomach and then jumped on top of it so that it impaled her through the guts. I then got a brick in one hand and a hammer in the other and started hitting her in the face again and again and again. I was pretty exhausted after all that and I was dripping with sweat - that’s probably why she said I smelled bad. It was a hard time.
Your friend, Andrew W.K.(via aes)
Reblogged from I call shens..
Bret Anthony Johnston talks to Joel Rice about how skateboarding informs creative writing
- JOEL RICE: You've said previously that the beauty of skateboarding has moved you to tears. On what specific occasions?
- BRET ANTHONY JOHNSTON: The first time I remember it happening, I had stayed up late one night and then, on CNN of all places, they showed Tony Hawk doing the first 900. And I knew how long he had been going after it, how long skateboarding had been going after it, and all of a sudden I started crying.
- And I teared up a little during Bob Burnquist's run from the X Games in 2001. It's a thing of beauty. He comes so close to slamming so badly so many times. He does a kickflip indy to fakie and he grabs the wrong side of the board. He just throws it under himself and then, a few walls later, he does a kickflip ollie blunt, then a switch rock and roll, then a switch backside lipslide revert. It was all so flawless, but the exact opposite of flawless, because it was so sketchy. I almost have the run memorized.
- And then when Jake Brown slammed I started crying. Probably the only one who didn't cry was Jake, because he's something of a beast. And then, when Danny slammed at this year's X Games, tears came into my eyes.
- JOEL: Could you talk a little bit about your own skateboarding career?
- BRET: Like pretty much everyone, I started off on the street. Corpus, where I grew up, is really flat. It's on the coast, and most of the people down there are surfers, and I've always hated surfing. We'd skate whatever was available. If there was a drained pool, we'd skate it. If the roots of a tree had buckled the sidewalk so that it formed a bank, we'd skate there until the cops came. Handrails, ramps, parking curbs behind an elementary school—whatever there was, we skated. My buddies and I would take road trips to skate parks in Houston, Dallas, and Austin as often as we could. We'd use all of our money for gas and live off of peanut butter we'd pilfered from our parents' kitchen cabinets.
- Then an indoor skate park opened in town, a warehouse full of ramps. This was in the late '80s, early '90s. I did well in contests and I got sponsored. And then I went on this tour. I guess maybe I turned pro for 30 seconds. We were going to go to Europe, but then I broke all my metatarsals on this Sal flip to fakie in South Carolina and the board sponsor that I was skating for wanted me to stick it out, just stay on the tour and sign autographs at the rest of the demos on our way back to California. He wanted me to stay on not because he thought I was skating so well or because I had such a thing as "fans"— which would have been flattering—but because I was the only one who was halfway responsible. I was the one who made sure we got to demos on time, that we didn't run out of gas or get arrested. Everybody else on the team was off getting high and drinking.
- JOEL: You were getting high on the English language, weren't you?
- BRET: Exactly, I was getting high on the English language. No, I was the den mother. So my sponsor knew that if I left the team, if I went home because I have this broken foot, then the tour is going to dissolve. Which it did. Which resulted in a huge falling-out between me and my sponsor, and I got really kind of soured on skateboarding. That's when I went back to school.
- JOEL: What was the most poignant phase in your skateboarding career?
- BRET: Ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two. That was when I was skating better than I had ever skated and was at a place in my so-called career where I had the skills and the confidence to be able to ride different things in a satisfying way. We would go up to Houston and skate Vagabond, a famous drained pool. I think about specific contest runs that I did, or tricks I can't do anymore, and it kind of breaks my heart.
- JOEL: So there is a little bit of pining?
- BRET: Not a little.
- JOEL: How has skateboarding influenced your writing?
- BRET: The two have always complemented each other. There are so few things that seem as difficult to me. The biggest link between skateboarding and writing is the discipline. Like here. (Gestures to the park below.) This kid is trying this trick and he hasn't made it and he's going to keep trying. It's like when we go to work on a sentence. You have to log the hours, take the hits, suffer the pain and discouragement, then come back at it.
- You're going to have to jumble this around and make it sound smart.
- JOEL: Don't worry. I'm a professional.
- BRET: That's good. What was I saying? Oh, right. Skateboarding instills a confidence that I don't see in people who haven't skated. I see people giving up on things and I think, "Why are you giving up?" I still can't do frontside ollie blunts! I want to do them so badly. One out of every five sessions, I will get fixated on trying frontside ollie blunts. So far, nothing has come of it. I have been chasing that feeling for 10 years. If you've stuck with skating, even for just a few years, you develop a maniacal tenacity toward what can loosely be called "goals."
- JOEL: "The poison is in the wound," to quote _Lolita_.
- BRET: You can always count on a skateboarder for a fancy prose style. Skateboarders also look at the world differently, the same way writers look at the world differently. Writers have to notice things that civilians aren't noticing, and it's the same thing with skaters. And I really do think there is a marriage to be made there—at least in this person. I am a better writer the more I skate. And I am a better skater the more I write. I want to be the first one on the ramp and the last one off.
- I think you do it as long as it resonates with you. I still lose myself. I really do think skateboarding is good for the mind and good for the soul. It's boundless, you know, and what does belief or faith do but ask us to forget our physical form? To focus on essence. And what are you doing skateboarding except literally forgetting your body. You really are in some ways trying to be liberated from your physical form. And it kind of ripples across every aspect of what we're talking about. You forget about everything else. If I go too long without skating, I'm not a good person to be around.
- JOEL: Does writing satisfy you as much as skateboarding?
- BRET: Absolutely, but I do long for that certain indescribable feeling that certain tricks will give you. I'll wake up in the morning and the first thing on my mind will be: I wish I could do an Indy gay twist.
- JOEL: It seems like, even though skateboarding has waxed and waned in popularity, you've rarely wavered in your commitment to it. Why is that?
- BRET: It's the same as if you were trying to be a poet, or trying to be a fiction writer, or trying to be a painter—if you can do anything else, do it. Your life is literally going to be easier if you choose a different path. But if you have to do it, then just accept who you are. Don't conform to what grown-up life is supposed to be. Find a way to put food on the table and keep the lights on, then use the rest of each day doing what you love.
- JOEL: How do you feel about skateboarding entering the mainstream now? Do you feel ambivalent about it? Do you feel vindicated?
- BRET: It has been a kind of vindication. Skateboarding has had a bad reputation, a reputation for being anarchistic and destructive. Skaters have been stereotyped as addicts and alcoholics and thugs. But, in truth, most of the people I skated with—if they had the choice between getting wasted or going to bed so they could skate the next day—they would go to bed. You can't skate as well or as long after you've partied all night. A few skaters have done drugs and others have made some devastatingly bad decisions, but judging the whole by the few is neither helpful nor ethical.
- But there's also a deep sense of ambivalence, you're right. Skateboarding never really courted mainstream acceptance. We were happy to be left alone, happy to thrive on the fringe. There was and is something wholly satisfying about appropriating a piece of the architectural landscape—curbs, handrails, transitioned fountains, swimming pools, etc.—and using it in a heretofore unimagined way. In some ways, the culture came to skateboarding—a fact that is not unrelated to capitalism—and not the other way around. Corporate America saw that there was money to be made. So, no, I'm not surprised that skateboarding has entered the mainstream culture now, nor am I surprised that so many skaters—creative and disciplined kids—have forged interesting and productive lives for themselves.
- JOEL: In general, people who found success in skateboarding found it in other fields. Jason Lee. Mark Gonzales. Rob and Big.
- BRET: The list is significant and fascinating. Ed Templeton is doing his art and photography. Ocean Howell is an architect. It's not coincidental that so many skaters, a breed of people who trained and conditioned themselves to view their surroundings through different lenses, have gone on to work in visual arts.
- There are so many skaters, not even professional skaters, just people able to ride a skateboard with some facility, who have gone on to be artists, mathematicians, poets, rare-book dealers, surgeons. When I've done these pieces on skateboarding for NPR and _The New York Times Magazine_, I get letters back saying, "I still skate and now I'm a high-school teacher," or "I'm a poet and this is my book." I'm starting to trade a lot of books with writers who have this history of skateboarding. All of these folks have chosen from day one to live lives that diverged from expectation. I feel pride and fraternity, but not surprise.
- Originally posted at: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/skateboarderinterview.html
Jess talks to Tom about hookers
- JESS: So, how's it going?
- TOM: Eh. Could be better. Kind of perusing "Casual Encounters."
- JESS: Any luck?
- TOM: None so far. Sometimes I think "Erotic Services" might be the way to go.
- JESS: Eww.
- TOM: Eww?
- JESS: Are you considering getting a hooker for yourself?
- TOM: Not really. But I may do it. I would in a pinch.
- JESS: Back to my original point - Eww.
- TOM: What do you mean?
- JESS: I rep hookers sometimes. They all complain about being hooked on drugs and having VD. And they're fond of stealing wallets.
- TOM: All?
- JESS: Of course, that's a generalization. But a well founded one.
- TOM: Okay. What are you doing right now? Want to go to Wal Mart?
- JESS: Sure, why?
- TOM: To buy a fake wallet to put in my pants. I'll put some papers and stuff in it, maybe $5. She can steal that.
- JESS: Wow.
Reblogged from just jessabelle..
Aaron Cometbus talks to Yael about growing up on a pot farm
- AARON COMETBUS: When did your parents move to the land?
- YAEL: In the early 80's.
- AARON: Not till then?
- YAEL: Yeah, 1980.
- AARON: Where had they been all through the seventies?
- YAEL: In Southern California. But my dad, he went to Vietnam. And after that, he couldn't really hang so much. So he went to Alaska a lot. He was working in Alaska nine months out of the year, and coming back, and not really digging the city.
- AARON: What was he not digging about it?
- YAEL: Just people, I guess. Maybe it was just the 70's. He was just like, Fuck this, I want to do it all myself. You know, be self-sufficient, grow weed, and get out of the tax bracket, or whatever. I don't know if it was the economics that was tripping him out, or if it was just society, people in general, the hustle and bustle. He had trouble trusting people in business. He just wanted to trust himself, I guess.
- For my sister though, she was just starting to go to high school. She was cutting school and going to the beach, and she had tons of friends. Life was good for a teenage girl at that time and at that place too, and then it's like, BOOM! Up to the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere.
- AARON: Is it a conflict, a parent's need to be self-sufficient, and your needs as a kid? I don't think kids would rank self-sufficiency really high up on their list.
- YAEL: No, not at all. No, they want to be, I wanted to be at school or go with friends, and stuff like that, but just didn't have time because we lived so far away from town. It was like, get up early, drive an hour and a half to school. Go to school, go back home, kind of do a little homework.
- AARON: Did you remember the city?
- YAEL: I was just a little ass kid. I was like, preschool. We came up first for a while and tried to build a house and stuff, started to build our house. We had a teepee and an army tent. And then one storm wiped out our army tent, so we had to go back. I was living with my grandmother down in Southern California for almost a year.
- AARON: While they built the house?
- YAEL: Well, we came back and the house wasn't built yet. But they had one of those trailers that you can put in the back of your truck to make your pick-up truck a camper, they had one of those up on blocks for me and my sister. And they were in the tent, another tent. The house was being framed and stuff. But I was there when they built it.
- AARON: How many acres was it?
- YAEL: 36.
- AARON: That's twice what the White House has.
- YAEL: Hmm.
- AARON: Did your parents adjust well to leaving the city?
- YAEL: The hardest thing was learning how to grow weed. The first year we only got an ounce. For the whole year. Maybe two. And I'm sure my dad smoked more than that, you know, so it wasn't a cash business until the third year, we finally got enough to pay for sheetrock and visqueen. We had visqueen on our windows for a long time.
- AARON: What's that?
- YAEL: The plastic stapled to window holes. "Hippie glass," they call it. And "hippie shingles" is tarpaper.
- AARON: On that mountain, were there a lot of people whose families were native to it, or was it almost all back-to-the-landers?
- YAEL: There was maybe one or two families who had been there for very long. And then there's the ranch families up on there, and they're old school, like third generation. And they had nothing to do with pot farming. Supposedly.
- AARON: Was the fact that you were small farmers, did that eventually cross social and cultural lines so that you got along with other farmer's families who had regular crops?
- YAEL: There are no regular crops there. The only other kind of farmers are like ranchers, there's a couple cattle ranchers. There seems to be a lot of hicks but not a lot of farms. Just hicks living in trailers, living the same as the hippies, they just don't like the hippies. The only ones that crossed to both were the bikers. The bikers had friends in every single faction, from the hicks to the hippies to the Native Americans. They knew all the people in the cities too.
- AARON: Did those barriers reach down to the kids too, or did the kids start to get along more?
- YAEL: Well, everyone went to the same school. My parents didn't have any friends that were different, but I did, growing up. Everyone was in the same school, no matter what your parents did. Thre was a pretty incredible amount of respect, actually. Because, the main thing is, your kid isn't supposed to lie. That's the weird thing about doing something illegal for a living as a family. Like, I feared cops. I feared authority. Still, if a cop gets behind me when I'm driving, my knees start shaking. A helicopter, you hear a helicopter, you hit the trees. It's just the way it is.
- AARON: Do you find yourself stuck with some of these fears that are a little out of place now?
- YAEL: Yeah, and I think lying about what you do for a living too, it can't be that good for you in your growth as a person. It's like, some lies are cool, some lies aren't right. All the pot farmer kids, they shut the fuck up. They didn't talk about it. Everyone kind of knew who was the pot farmers and tried to keep it secret.
- AARON: What would you say your family did?
- YAEL: Carpenters. There's more carpenters in that town than anywhere else. Everyone's a carpenter.
- AARON: As the week growing becomes more successful, are there class distinctions?
- YAEL: Of pot farmers? Oh yeah. Who grows the best weed.
- AARON: No, I mean, don't the hippies eventually become richer than the people who'd been on the land before, and there's resentment towards that?
- YAEL: No, but you see some people that grow for their families, and maybe have a good crop, and you see they get a new truck, or they finish their houe, or they get a TV or something like that. But that's normal. Everyone wants everyone to do well, you know. It's not like you're in direct competition. There's only so many people that buy the stuff.
- AARON: But what about the people who don't grow weed? The ranchers and stuff. The ranchers see your dad's house go from hippie shingles to the real thing.
- YAEL: They don't see that. They never come anywhere near us, they never come up there. Only the people that even get in the gate, through the driveway, are friends.. Only thing is, you can't get fancy cars, and you can't have nice clothes. That's the thing. Living where you are, you can't have a fancy car anyway. Just a good truck is all you need. Or a Subaru.
- AARON: What do you think are some of the good things and some of the drawbacks of having a closed community? Most of the people in that area were transplanted.
- YAEL: M-hm.
- AARON: So you get this transplanted culture and it's sort of insular. Out of necessity. Because you couldn't have outsiders too much. So does it become xenophobic? Does it become, like you don't get new blood in?
- YAEL: Well, when you're a kid you don't really realize any difference because there's nothing to compare it to. But, you know, it's boring as fuck. There's the same kids, you know what kids there are that you can play with when you're growing up. And they're always a few miles away, so either you gotta walk, minimum 3 miles, or 15 miles, whatever.
- AARON: But I mean like, with the adults, do you notics that there's not different cultures coming around, there's not new people, a new infux....
- YAEL: There's a lot of cultures. There's people from all over the place on the same mountain and all have the same sort of bond. It's like self-sufficiency, and weed I guess.
- AARON: I was just wondering if as people grew older, as the relationships changed, the culture kept reinvigorating itself, or if it started to get kind of moldy and freaky.
- YAEL: Yeah, I don't know. I don't think it reinvigorated itself. It definitely fizzled out and did its own thing. It wasn't like there was ever a sense of permanence with anyone there. Everyone was kind of like, "I'm doing this for a while." But the community wasn't really a community, it was like different families. It was like tribal, more. We were up there, we had cousins, aunts, my mom's family moved up there, so all her brothers and sisters were there. So it's like real tribal, cousins and things, their family, our family, and you know who belongs to what family.
- AARON: Did you like that?
- YAEL: No, I hated it. It fucking drove me crazy. I wanted new people every day. I wanted freaks and experience and, you know, interaction with people. I really wanted to meet some girls, man.
- AARON: Dating must be kind of rough on the mountain.
- YAEL: Oh yeah, it's impossible.
- AARON: That idea of self-sufficiency, in a way, if you're growing weed and you're selling it to other people, you're not exactly self-sufficient. You're part of a society. You're doing something which needs other people.
- YAEL: See, that was a contradiction that I realized early on, like "This is kind of bullshit, you know?" I knew it was bullshit. I knew that everything serves a purpose and everybody's using everyone else, one way or another. And I just wanted to be on the right side of that, I didn't want to be the one that's getting the boot stomped on my ass every fucking day. I wanted to be somebody that either doing the stomping or just floating free, away from all that.
- AARON: You think that's what society is?
- YAEL: Society is completely a web of entangled favors, deals, ripoffs. There's a consequence for everything in society, no matter what it is. And somebody always gets the short end of the stick.
- AARON: Don't you think it's sometimes based on mutual benefits?
- YAEL: There's not always benefits, though. It's like, I'm fucked this way or I'm fucked this way. Which way am I fucked less?
- Read the interview in its entirety. Pick up Aaron Cometbus' fantastic zine: _Cometbus #48 - Back to the Land_. Kid seems to always ask the right questions.
