The Kjaorn Supremacy

Whip your hair...

Delving deep into my mind's eye in an attempt to paint a picture of the type of person who might push an '85 Volkwagon Cabriolet, I picture a youthful and free-spirited young woman who probably rocks leg warmers and a side ponytail. She listens to Bon Jovi cranked to 11 as she rolls top down through her local streets and aves. BUT, dear friends, this is hardly the reality - as I learned yesterday.

While approaching a stop sign on my way to the local Blockbuster I happened upon one of the finer existing examples of a mid 80's Volkswagen Golf Cabriolet. As I rolled to a stop I noticed the 40 something, mullet rocking, burnout looking at me in his rearview. I stared back, and began a telepathic dialogue with him that went something like this:

Me: Hey, sweet Cabrio, bro.

40 something burnout: Shes my baby. Bought her brand spankin' new off the show room floor back in '85.

Me: That was kinda the pinnacle of your life, huh?

40 something burnout: Yeah.

Me: Sorry. 

My Gift To You, World

PUSH PLAY! DO IT! Let's set the mood, friends. Let's make it sexy. Kick off yer shoes. Take off that blouse. Dim the lights if you'd like...

 

Only moments ago, after lovingingly cleansing my body (with extra special attention paid to my genital region, and more specifically, my penis) I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet and reaching for a towel WHEN in my periphery I caught a glimpse of what many, if not most, would consider to be the best looking man of all-time. OF ALL TIME! I was looking in the mirror, ya'll. It was me. 

Anyways, that's ONLY HALF of my revealing revelation of revelous revelry. I have no idea what that means. So, after briefly getting lost in my own eyes, I, as per usual, gave my mustachio a quick part when I realized that it's basically a ribbon, or a bow, a fucking bow, if you will? that you grow on your face. It's gift wrap for your god damned face! What I'm trying to say is, simply, and in essence, that my face is basically like a present to all of mankind. A neatly groomed, drop-dead handsome present for the whole wide fucking world. 

Do I consider myself a philanthropist of sorts, well - yes. Absolutely. It's a lot of work, kiddos. But the smiles I put on yer faces time and time again make it all worth the while.

Enjoy it, errybody. Enjoy it hard. And 4eva.

That's all.

I love you.

Groupon x Mel Gibson

Dear Groupon,

I caught your Super Bowl ads yesterday, and BOY WERE THEY AWESOME! Your disregard for human rights, freedom and life in general was amazingly refreshing. And the way you were all like, "Fuck whales!" was soo hardcore. Being a bit of an ad guy myself, I was all like, "FUCK! I wish I wrote these ads! They're god damned groundbreaking!"

What I'm trying to say is, simply, I am your fucking SUPER FAN! And being the go-getter that I am, I wanted to write your next ad. Yeah. Truly. Maybe this can be next years Super Bowl commercial? Who knows?

Here goes...

OPEN on wide shot of beautiful African landscape. There's probably lions and some other super rad African stuff.

VO: Beautiful. Majestic. Africa. (Maybe you can have the golden-voiced bum do it? He's so hot right now.)

ZOOM to war torn African village. There's kids. Skinny ones, 'cause they're starving and sick.

CUT to close-up of child attempting to drink from a puddle.

VO: This is Mel Gibson. Pathetic, isn't it? Africa, it's a beautiful place, but let's be honest - it's a fucking shit show.

CUT to close-up of Mel Gibon's face.

MEL: AIDS. Hippopotamuses. Civil Wars galore. And maybe one of the greatest concerns of modern times, the grievous scarcity of clean drinking water.

ZOOM out to shot of Mel Gibson with tittays out and in some boardshorts. He's at a water park and standing above a huge water slide.

MEL: Luckily for us, we don't live on that god forsaken continent, and our waters flow clear, clean and crisp! No Cholera here, kids! And because 200 of us bought at Groupon.com we're getting a 50 dollar water park ticket for only 15 bucks here at Raging Water in Sacramento! 15 BUCKS!

MEL then dives head first onto the slide and screams: FUCK AFRICA!

TITLE: Save the money.

VO: Save the money...

TITLE: Groupon.com

What do you think? Great right? That's for you. Yeah. You're welcome.

Seriously though, I appreciate that you were trying to do something different. I really do. But you missed the mark, and the vast majority of people who saw these commercials didn't get "it." They don't want an explanation of why it was such a brilliant concept, it wasn't by the way, they want an apology. Take your medicine. Tell us you'll do better next time. Man up. Say you're sorry.

Don't go chasing waterfalls...

Or, do go chasing waterfalls. See if I care. I'm sorry. I take it back. I love you. Marry me? No? Uhhhh! French kiss? In my dreams??? Jeez laweez.

It's been awhile, kids. I'm a busy boy. Tryin' to get that scrilla. Chedda. Gouda. And stuff. I'm an idiot. Forgive me. I like yer butts.

Ookie dookie. Push play on the vid. Enjoy the beautiful and melodious melodies. Play with yer gens if ya wanna. And just scroll, kiddos. Scroll that stuff hard, or soft. Scroll at whatevers tempo you're comfortable with, actually. Today is your day. Yeah.

This is what I looks like when I'm camping at Diamond Lake.


This is what I look like when I'm all totally stoked that I found my bobber.


Told you I'd find it, jerksticks.


This is what I look like when I'm being really tough, yet contemplative. With a dash of constipation. I don't quite recall, but I believe that slight glimmer in my eyeballs may be a clue as to the state of my weiner, which I'm guessing was probably somewhere between semi and full-blown erection at the time this pic was taken. Prolly. I ferget. (Yer lucky that isn't my good side 'cause you'd probably have a totally huge boner/girl boner too! Prolly.)


This is what I look like when I'm fishing for Rainbow Trouts at Diamond Lake.


This is what I look like when I'm all at Crater Lake with my big bro and little sister.


This is what I look like when I'm at a waterfall with my favorite puppy dog in the whole wide world.


This is what I look like when I'm at the biggest waterfall any man ever seen!


This is what I look like when I'm at a waterfall and I have to poop really bad. Poop!


RIP Left Eye, 4eva. Pour out some liquor.

I love you.

GAY PRIDE!

It's gay pride week or month or something here in LA, and more specifically here in W. Hollywood - which is the mecca for hot guy on guy action. It's insane down here. Try and imagine the gayest thing you can think of and then multiply that by 47, carry the 1 and then square it. Yeah, man. Ish is off the hinges. You've never seen so many pink polos with the collars popped in your entire life than right here and right now. As I sit here and write this little ditty hot techno beats are blowing in my window with the cool Santa Ana winds from the huge celebration going down just up the street. If it's not hitting at at least 150 bpm, forget about it. I'm not sure I'm going to ever be able to sleep again without techno bumpin' and police sirens in the background after laying my head here in W. Holly for the last few months. I figured since this weekend is the Pride Celebration I would share my gayest story from my time here so far. Here goes...

If you're not down with the get down let me get you up to speed. I am currently renting a living room from a bi dude named JC. He's kind of a weird cat, but a good dude nonetheless. We share the apartment with another dude, Christopher, who also loves the cock. He's a cool cat too actually. Funny dude - always calling his boyfriend and JC fags. It's pretty hilarious, trust. So here I am in the heart of the gay capital of the world living with 2 gay guys - it's been different, but not in a bad way mind you. Not at all. Just different from what I've experienced in my life till now. I know people like to pretend that Eugene is some thriving cultural melting pot, and teeming with diversity, but come on, look around - It's white people on top of white people. There's not a place in the World where you will see more "Love Sees No Color" tee shirts, and yet where you can go days without seeing a single black man. Eugene is a hot spot for hippies and that's it, but I digress. Back to the story, my story, my gay, gay story.

Two weekends ago I was chillin' on my bed reading when JC was like, "Hey Jake! We're having a little pool party! You should totally come down!"

I wasn't too stoked on the idea because, why would I be? Way too many dudes in really small shorts. I'm just not trying to kick it with hella dudes in Speedos, ever - regardless of race, religion or creed and etc. It's just not my idea of a good time, so I politely declined, and continued to dig into my book. However, JC would not take no for an answer and continued to encourage me to come down, and finally I agreed. I had $1.18 in my checking account at the time and figured, fuck it, at least I can get my grub on, so I headed down to the pool. Upon arrival I was met with just about exactly what I had expected - about 15 dudes huddled in and around the pool and all in Speedos or something very similar. The stuff dreams are made of, that is, if you happen to be Ricky Martin. So I roll up in there and am immediately eye fucked by at least half of these dudes like, "Who's this fresh piece of man meat." Ha. For real though, not a minute after walking up this guy says to me, "Heeeeey! Who are you???"

Before I could even say a word JC blurts out, "He's straight. Don't bother."

So instead of shaking his fist at the heavens for making this fine piece of A a fan of the ladies he says, "Oh. I don't mind. I don't mind at all! You're cute!"

"Uh, thanks," I responded.

"What are you up to tonight? Wanna come over?"

"No thanks. I think I'm gonna chill."

"Okay, well you can come over anytime. I'll leave my door open for you!"

"Uh, okay. I wouldn't hold your breath."

So that was a little uncomfortable, but he was a funny dude and was mostly just messing around, as was I. So I went ahead and hooked up a fat plate of bbq and a tall glass of Kool-Aid. Believe it or not shit was delicious. Smoked ribs, burgers, sausages (obviously), lobster mac and cheese, chips, salsa, Kool-Aid, and that fucking Kool-Aid was the finest god damn glass of purple I've had this side of Papa's Soul Food Kitchen. Shit was that ill man. Word bond to my mother, man. So as I finished my food and tasty cup of purple, and was about to leave when the gentleman with the man crush continued, "But seriously, you should totally come over sometime. I know you said you don't want to, but I'm going to leave my door open just in case you change your mind."

I just laughed. "It's nothing against you, it's just that I love the titties and vagina. I just do. I'm sorry."

What happened next I will never forget for as long as I live, but first a commercial break... This dude then brought his hand up to his man boob, his moob and gave it a little flick and said, "I got titties!" He then looked up into my eyes, right into my eyes, and with no hesitation says, "And I PROMISE you that my hole is WAY tighter!"

I shit you not. Word for fucking word. I can only imagine the look on my face at that moment in time. Shock. Disbelief. Wow. Is this what it's like to be a mama? Vulgar come-ons and the like? Personally I'm not that forward with the ladies, but I'm thinking there are probably a lot of dudes that are. If so, I'm thoroughly sorry because that shit was traumatic. Makes for a good story though I guess.

Love you.

Hey! Errbody! This is really super duper importante! Hecka!

Dear good folks of the Emerald City (Eugene, not Seattle because fuck Seattle! JK, JK, Love you Seattle),

I will be hopping on a jet plane this Sunday the 13th in the two-thousand and tenth year of our good Lord, and headed your way. Ahhh yeah! Barring any potential flight complications such as terrorism, mechanical issues, pilot error or an act of God I should be landing all up in the 5 fo’ whizzle—as they say in the Yay, okay, they don’t say that, I say that, but I bet they would say that if they were half as cool as me, which they aren’t and never will be, duh, what was I saying? Oh yeah, comin’ in hot at 18 hundred hours—that’s military time in case you didn’t know it. If you’re not hella down with the super top-secret time format that’s 6 PM, dummy, if you are—congratulations, you’re probably pretty radical. I know that there are a great deal of you that want to hang-out with me hella effin’ bad because duh, why wouldn’t you? Other than the fact that I tend to get a little touchy feely sometimes. Sorry. Grab somebody in the fun bags one time and all of a sudden you’re Mr. Creeper-McWeird-Pants and you have to tell all your neighbors about it. Whatevs. She totally liked it - loved it prolly. Prolly.

There are a couple of things I would like provided upon my arrival and those things include: a single, cold Ninkasi Total Domination brew in a frosty 22 oz bottle, a bowl of Runts but none of the stupid banana ones because the banana ones are hecka lame and a waste of time, hecka, a box of bendy straws, an assortment of groovy chicks, a blow dryer, two boxes of condoms: one XXL Magnums (for me) and something with the de-sensitizer for my entourage (they’re pre-ejaculators, poor guys), I would like the climate control in my ride to be set at a comfortable 68.4 degrees—any other temperature makes my roids flair up something fierce and you do not want to be around for that business—I get a little crabby, one copy of John Tesh’s self-titled album "John Tesh," a jar of Clausen dill pickles, a 12’ boa constrictor, and finally a toothless hooker—preferably female or of mixed-gender (weiner on top 'cause otherwise stuff gets hecka weird). Now that we have that business out of the way—bring on the good times, brahs! Totally!

I wouldn’t say I have an itinerary for the week but there are a few things that I would like to do while back in the ol’ Track Town City USA, and those things include but are not limited to the following: hand holding, skipping, pillow fighting, french kissing—hard, Twister, Jenga!, blanket fort construction, cuddling, taco eating, freeze tag, double dutch, high fives, low fives, pretty much any kind of fives, catfish noodling, dance party—preferably of the pajami-jami-jam variety, spit dope rhymes, play video games, read High Times, give each other a makeover, holler at some hotties, get our titties out, climb some trees, and prolly some other stuff too! I’m open to suggestions—as long as you don’t suggest anything stupid, mom! No, I don’t want to go get hot apple sauce enemas together. Gross! For reallyz though, I’m pretty much down for whatevs. Maybe we can just get mad faded on some High Lifes and talk about back in the days when we were young and ish, and that time you pooped in yer Spidy undies, so funny! Whatever we do it’s gonna be mad stupid dope, yo. Radical. Well, that’s settled. I’ll see you when I get there, if I ever get there. . . I like your butts, wimps.

Love always,

Jacob Kjaorn Gunderson, Esquire

THE EASY RIDER

Ol' Dennis Hopper kicked the bucket this morn. Pour out a 40 for him - Pabst Blue Ribbon, preferably, and make sure it's cold because warm beer makes him puke. Dude was one of my favs. Check out some of Mr. Hopper at his finest:

Fan of David Lynch or not, there is no denying that Mr. Hopper's performance in Blue Velvet was beyond fucking epic. For my money there is no better bad guy in the history of cinema than Frank Booth - such a sick, vile and deranged fuck. Beautiful.

And of course, one of my favorite scenes of all-time, from my favorite movie of all-time: True Romance. So good.

Hey! Give me my privacy back, bro...

I'm about to fuck you up with some truth. Nobody gives a shit about you. Sorry, it's sad but true. Nobody cares that your favorite quote is some dumb shit from Anchorman. Guess what else? Nobody cares that you thought Tropic Thunder was effin' hillarious. P.S. That movie is not funny. It's fucking stupid. I know what you're thinking, but Tom Cruise was like all fat and dancing and stuff. Nope. Still dumb. Guess what else? Nobody gives a shit that you totally adore scrap booking. You listen to The Novemberists. Sweet. Nobody cares. You went to Cancun for Spring break and did some beer bongs? Awesome. You just became a fan of Goose Shits? Uh, ok. Titties. You found an abandoned penguin? Fuck yer face. Nobody cares.

You know who really doesn't care? Mark Zuckerberg. You know why? Because he's a 25 year-old bro that is worth 4 billion dollars. You know what Mark Zuckerberg is doing right now? A line of coke off of some super hot stripper's labia. You know what he's going to do after that? He's going to take a huge bong ripper out of his diamond encrusted golden bong. Know what he's gonna do after that? He's going to invite over some supermodels for a gang bang, and Hot Carl 'em when they crash out on his Siberian Tiger skin rug just 'cause he fuckin' can and he thinks that shit is hilarious. He's worth 4 fucking billion dollars. He can do whatever he wants, and I can assure you he's not creeping on your stupid Facebook messages about the frat party you got drunk at and blew 4 bros. Don't worry - nobody's ever going to know. Well, except Jesus. Well, and maybe Santa Clause. He knows fucking everything. Fat prick. Matter of fact, that's who we need to be worrying about. Fucking creeper Clause. He's probably sitting on the toilet right now rubbing one out while he's watching you sitting on the toilet rubbing one out while you're reading my dumb blog. Sick, sick fucks. Both of you.

What's the big conspiracy theory anyways? Facebook is going to sell everybody's super interesting profile info to marketers/advertisers. Guess what? I'm an advertiser guy, and I don't give a shit that you heart Glee and have yer girlfriends over every Tuesday and pop popcorn in yer p.j.'s and giggle yer titties off 'cause it's like the hottest shit on television.

It's all entirely laughable, and you know what? What if Facebook does give up everybody's info to some 3rd Party shitbirds? What can they do with this garbage? There are 500 million people on Facebook. 500 fucking million. You couldn't possibly be more anonymous than 1 in 500,000,000. 8 zeros kids. Fuckin' 8 of 'em.

Don't be a dumb shit. Don't put yer Social Security number on your Facebook and you'll be straight. I promise you. Hope you can sleep at night now. If not, come on over and we can build a blanket fort and have a tickle fight. Maybe mom will make us some hot chocolates. The kind with the darling little marshmallows. Mmmm. Tasty. Mallows.

Peace. Love. And Seahorses 4 mutha lickin' eva!!!

Sorry for all the eff bombs, ma.

Love you.

IT'S THE CITY I LIVE IN, THE CITY OF ANGELS...

Hey Mom,

LA is great! I'm having the bestest time ever and the truth is there's no place I'd rather be. The sun is always a shinin' and there are bunches of pretty girls as far as the eye can see. I'm thinking I'll start working on getting you some grand kids real soon. Well, I'd actually like to practice making 'em a little more to make sure I can make you a really, really good one, so don't get too excited just yet.

Work is great. The people are totally tubular (I'm trying to pick up on the local lingo). They're all very creative, smart and super nice folks. On Friday I got to experience my very first FREE FOOD FRIDAY and it was great! There were hamburgers and hot dogs and chips and dips and beers (don't worry I only had 3). It was all very tasty. We all sat out in the sun and ate and drank and talked and had a very swell time. I pitched some ideas the other day too, and my boss really seemed to like one of 'em. I'm hoping to do some really great stuff here, mom. It's really very exciting.

I found a place to live too! It's in West Hollywood and it's pretty nice actually. I haven't even got shanked once, and as a matter of fact all the guys around here are exceptionally kind. There's this club right down the road and it's always jam packed full of guys just having the best time ever. Every time I walk by it seems someone always says, hey handsome, wanna party? I normally just tell them that I appreciate the kind offer, but I'm trying to be frugal. One time a guy even complimented me on my behind, which was very nice since I've been feeling awful self-conscious with all the super skinny and tanned folks around here. It was a pleasant surprise to learn that people in West Hollywood have an accent too. I had no idea! They all sound very enthusiastic all the time - kinda like Richard Simmons, and they call everybody girlfriend and think everything is just fabulous. It's all very good fun.

The apartment is nice. We have a deck out back with a BBQ and a hammock and the time just flies when I'm back there reading and getting some sun on my titties. It's really great. It's all so very exciting.

Well, I think that's about all for now, but I'll be sure to write again soon and often. I hope life is treating you handsomely as well, mom. Take care.

Love always. Your son,

Jake

If we raise our pants, we raise our image...

A wise man once said, "Pants on the ground. Pants on the ground. Lookin' like a fool with yer pants on the ground." NY State Senator Eric Adams agrees, and has launched a campaign to bring an end to this appalling societal ill.

Senator Eric Adams is a fucking dumb shit. Yeah. I don't want to know how much this campaign cost Mr. Adams, but I would argue that every penny has been money spent that would have been better spent elsewhere - Like I don't know? Shelters, food for hungry folks, medical assistance, scholarships, etc, etc...

Does he honestly think that kids are going to see these messages, and be like, hmmm, maybe he's right? Yeah, I think I will pull my pants up. I do want to raise my image. I don't know why, but I don't see it happening. Rather, I can picture kids seeing this and saying, stupid Uncle Tom mother fucker. I don't need a God damn belt. I need a fucking inhaler for my asthma, diapers for my baby and a sammich. I'm fucking starving right now. Dumb shit.

OR, are sagging pants indeed bringing the black man down?

I don't know? I would argue that there are bigger problems like the fact that black men are jailed at overwhelmingly disproportionate rates, which may point to something like wide spread institutional racism in our Justice System for example, but I'm no expert.

Get it together Senator Adams.

I smell a...

Scam. Yesterday I sent a response to an ad posting for an apartment. This is the response I received:

Thanks for your email and it is my gladness to hear from you.I am Alan Johnson,the owner of the Apartment you are making inquiry on.Actually I resided in the apartment with my family,presently we moved away due to my transfer from my working place, my apartment is still available for rent for $500 per month including the utilities like hydro,washer and security,it is furnished.More so Now, I went for a Crusade in the West Africa and i will like you to get in touch with my wife in the states for more discussion as She is with the keys and the documents to the Apartment.Pls i want you to note that,i am a kind and honest man and also i spent a lot on my property that i want to give you for rent,so i will solicit for your absolute maintenance of this apartment and want you to treat it as your own,is that taken,I want you to keep it tidy all the time so that i will be glad  to see it neat when i come for a check up.I do that once in a while.I want have trust in you as i always stand by my words.Where are you located? let us know how soon you are willing to move in.Email my wife Mary, on (mm1aptrental@gmail.com) and she will attend to you better.

ADDRESS TO THE APARTMENT : 2422 34th St Santa Monica, CA 90405
 
Thanks for your interest.

Alan Johnson

Is it a scam? A furnished apartment in Santa Barbra for $500? Seems a little too good to be true. I like the part where he says he is a "kind and honest man." Who says that unless they are trying to sell you something? Not this time pal. You can't hustle a hustler.

In other news, I need to find an effin' spot pronto, and d-bags like this are not helping. Dear Alan Johnson, fuck yo' face.

People are morans...

Not you kids. You kids are smart. And handsome/pretty. I like you guys and gals. I also like your butts, wimps. Call me sometime? Please? Puh-leeze?

I'm not a political blogger, and actually have little interest in politics in general, so I try and stay away. I'm much more interested in stuff like pretty girls, chugging hella Dews and getting totally extreme, tacos and the like. The truth is, I blog for the kids, man. The kids. Yeah. But sometimes I gotta vent a bit. Ya know? Get some stuff off of my hairy man tits, well hairless man tits in my case, unfortunately.

About half, if not more of the population is tripping out on the new Health Care Bill (especially here in ol' Utah), and I'm not going to open up that can of worms; Although, I do wish people would actually read the bill before they started spouting off about it. Rather, Imma take it back to the basics. Yeah, the fundamentals, if you will. 1+1=2 kinda ish.

Folks from sea to shinin' sea are gettin' all fired up and are all like, "Hey! I didn't vote fer no gosh darned frickin' health care reforms. It's Un-American! Un-American, I tell ya! God damned pinko, commie, Fascist liberal punks!" Well, kids, it's not, Un-American that is, so take your medicine and shut your fat corn-fed pie holes, or at the very least, get a book, learn about it and then spout your silliness. This is America at it's finest. This is why we voted in Mr. Obama. Change, and stuff.

America is in fact a Democracy, of sorts, but don't get it twisted - it is NOT a Direct or Pure Democracy, but rather a Representative Democracy, and even more accurately - a Constitutional Republic. You should know this. Learn about it.

While we're at it, we might as well learn about the inherent differences in the ideologies of Communism and Socialism.

Now when mommy asks you what you learned today, you can dazzle the bejesus outta her. You might even get an Otter Pop after dinner.

Go USA. Love you.

GET YOUR TICKETS FOR THE RIOTS OF SPRING

This is going down in a week, kids. Cop those tickets before they're sold up. Do it.

The birds are a singin' and the flowers are a bloomin' folks. Spring is just about upon us, and in their second bout of this young season our Emerald City's finest will be lacing 'em up once again for the Riots of Spring.

The young and zealous bunch that is the Church of Sk8in will be mixin' it up with the accomplished and always captivating Flat Track Furies in a face-off that is sure to swell your dopamine levels. The delicious Ninkasi brews will assist in gettin' those lobes poppin' off as well. Be sure to watch for Sk8in star Pow Wow to dawn the jammer cap and put some big points on the board. For the Furies, look for veteran jammer Darrah-lict to gracefully spring through the pack and make some big points of her own. This bout will be a cat fight till the last whistle. Believe it.

In the headliner Emerald City's 2009 League Champion Andromedolls will lock horns with Idaho's own Treasure Valley Roller Girls in a blitzkrieg for bragging rights. Look for the Dolls to control the pack while star jammers Bullet Brains and crowd favorite Sirius Smack overwhelm the Boise girl's defense. Don't sleep on those potato fed mamas from Idaho though, they'll be looking to raise pulses in this one, so keep your eyes glued.

Scantily clad mamas. Beers. Tunes. Nuf said. Go buy some tickets, dummy. Lot of 'em.

It's all goin' down Saturday March 27th @ 6, so get those calenders marked.

I love you

The VICE Guide to Liberia 8 of 8...

I really enjoyed this series. Can't wait to see what those crazy kids at VBS.tv come out with next. Enjoy.

Fiesta, Fiesta. . .

Ken Block has left Subaru and will now be pushin' a Ford Fiesta. Yeah. Whoever made this happen deserves a fucking raise. A big one. This is a HUGE step in the right direction for Ford. Ford will sell more Fiestas this year. FACT. I expect a new Gymkhana vid will be droppin' soon. If they're smart they'll drop a teaser during the Super Bowl. Peep the new whip. Pretty dope.

Although, Hitler's not too pumped about his move. Oh well, fuck Hitler.

The Vice Guide to Liberia Episodes 6 and 7

Vice Guide to Liberia 5 of 8

Emerald City's finest back in action...

The skates have been dusted off, the fishnets have come out of the closet and the ladies of the Emerald City are once again ready to put on the sexiest, fastest and most brutal show on 8 wheels.

This bout will put last seasons undefeated league champs The Andromedolls against the young and hungry Church of Sk8in in a match that is sure to please. Also on the docket is the always exciting Flat Track Furies, who after losing last years championship bout in overtime, have something to prove. Look for them to be skating as amazing as ever against the Bad Reputations of the Terminal City.

As usual, the Ninkasi will be on tap and delicious as ever. The tunes will be cranked to fuckin' 10! And the ladies, oh the ladies. That's all I'm gonna say. Be there or be square, and stuff.

Get your tickets here: Brown Paper Tickets.

And if you have yet to join the Sirious Smack Fan Club, what the eff are you waiting for? Check it out: Sirious Smack Fan Club. She's totally effin radical.

Love you.

Vice Guide to Liberia 4 of 8

I'm really digging this series. It's definitely hard to watch in parts, but it's real. Really fucking real. Why doesn't our mainstream media do stuff like this? Can't you see Katie Couric stomping in the slums of Liberia? Nope, me neither. Anderson Cooper on the other hand, that dude's pretty bad A.

Christina Hendricks is prettier than you...

I'm typically not too interested in celeb gossip. I could care less about what's happenin' with Brangelina, and the sort.

This little story on the other hand is fucking crazy. Apparently some asshole commented on Christina Hendricks Glolden Globe dress saying, "You don't put a big girl in a big dress."

Big girl? Really? If there is a woman on this planet hotter than Christina Hendricks--I have yet to lay eyes on her. I wouldn't change a single thing on this mama's bod, but that's me. If you look like Christina Hendricks and are having a hard time getting a date PLEASE call this number 541.953.6377.

I love you.

VICE Guide to Liberia Parts 2 & 3

Banksy's all up in Park City. . .

And he's leaving his mark.

Guess he has a film playing at Sundance. Peep the trailer:

Love you.

Dear Pat Robertson, FUCK YO' FACE...

Dude is seriously off his rocker, and this shit just makes my blood boil. Let me get this straight Mr. Robertson, God struck down the people of Haiti for making a pact with the Devil? That's a fact? Really? Really? Go play in traffic with your old senile ass. PLEASE.

Vice Guide to Liberia 1 of 8

VBS.tv has been producing some amazing work as of late, and this series is sure to follow that trend. I'm predicting a Pulitzer for this work. Believe it. Wow, shit is raw.

On a related note, if you have yet to read "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier" I would recommend doing so fucking stat. One of the best books I have read to date. Do it.

I love you.

YO! 8MILELIFE

This video is super rad too. Well, if you're into crazy powder slaying, cliff droppin', tail-tappyin', buttery-ass double-cork throwing shredtasticness. The soundtrack is legit as well. I like your butt, wimp. Call me sometime.

YO! 8MILELIFE from Randy on Vimeo.

Love you.

I have a dream...

Martin Luther King, what an amazing man. What else can be said? Sends a chill deep through my spine every time. We've come a long way since this amazing speech, but unfortunately we still have a very long way to go. Take a minute to watch it. Get inspired. Let us keep this dream alive, and continue to reach out and strive for equality, justice, and most importantly love for our fellow human beings.

If you've never read a Letter from Birmingham Jail, get on it. It is not only one of the most moving things I have ever read, but one of the finest examples of writing you will ever find. There is so much to learn from this amazing human being, and on so many levels.

Letter from Birmingham Jail

I love you.

Hitler discovers truth about Banana Tech Reverse Camber Snowboards...

Banana Tech is so hot right now! I've actually demoed a couple reverse camber boards this year, and haven't been super impressed.This video is hilarious! Thanks for the heads up Gary Knight. Enjoy friends.

I love you.

Help a brother out...

My friend Zach Blank will be participating in the 2010 Vancouver Marathon on May 2nd, and is trying to raise money in order to support a cause that is very close to his heart, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

If you have a couple bucks to throw his way, or can help by getting the word out about his efforts, I know that he would appreciate it greatly. 

Come on! Get your good deed for the day out of the way right now, and the universe will look upon kindly when you're droppin' JagerBombs and takin' Patron shots off of strippers tittays later. Charlie Sheen? Ante up, pal. We know you're getting paid.

Don't do it for me. Don't do it for yourself. Don't even do it for Zach. Do it for the kids, man. The kids.

You can donate here: HERE.

If you're feeling super rad check out 6 ways you can help Haiti: http://bit.ly/helpinhaiti

I love you.

Emerald City Roller Girls: Inaugural Brawl

Hooray for the roller derby! Oh yeah, it's that time of year again, folks. The skates have been dusted off, the fishnets have come out of the closet and the ladies of the Emerald City are once again ready to put on the sexiest, fastest and most brutal show on 8 wheels.

This bout will put last seasons undefeated league champs The Andromedolls against the young and hungry Church of Sk8in in a match that is sure to please. Also on the docket is the always exciting Flat Track Furies, who after losing last years championship bout in overtime, have something to prove. Look for them to be skating as amazing as ever against the Bad Reputations of the Terminal City.

As usual, the Ninkasi will be on tap and delicious as ever. The tunes will be cranked to fuckin' 10! And the ladies, oh the ladies. That's all I'm gonna say. Be there or be square, and stuff.

Get your tickets here: Brown Paper Tickets.

And if you have yet to join the Sirious Smack Fan Club, what the eff are you waiting for? Check it out: Sirious Smack Fan Club. She's totally effin rad.

Love you.

50 People, One Question...

So, by the end of the day, what do you wish would happen?

Dear Fox News...

PLEASE STOP!

This is fucking ridiculous. Buddhism sucks? You want Tiger to find Jesus? Really? Come on. Just report the fucking news.

Evolution of the Hipster

Peeped this at PasteMagazine.com. I probably would have ignored it entirely (making fun of hipsters is sooo 2008) but then I saw Miss 2003. Holy shit! That is my fucking ex-girlfriend. Well, it's not her, but it is sooo her. Ya know? Good thing I kicked her to the curb. She is totally living in the past, and that could have serious adverse effects on my personal brand. I can't afford a re-brand right now, ya know. Ya know? Ok. So she dumped me. Who am I kidding? I didn't mean it baby! I love you! Please take me back! Puhleeeeez. Babe?

The McKenzie gets PWNNNED!

I've played sports since I could crawl. All of 'em. These days I lean toward the action or extreme sports variety. Why? Beating, dominating other people, humans, it's too easy. How many times can I take some hooper to the rack and be all like, "I broke ya ankles!"? I mean, it's fun but I feel like a broken record sometimes. These days I need to dominate a landscape--a whole fucking eco-system. Sunday I took on the majestic McKenzie River with a couple of my compadres. I think the pictures tell the story. You be the judge.

Droppin' in. Focused.


Killin' it. The river is at my mercy.


Piece of cake. Didn't even break a sweat.


Nice try McKenzie. Really good effort. Keep your chin up. Maybe next time?

I'm going, going, back, back, to Cali, Cali!

I've been distant. I'm sorry. Oh, come on? Don't do that. I'm sorry. Sincerely. What can I do? Please? What can I do? Just tell me. It's not you. It's not. It's me. I'm not just saying that.

For real though, I suck at blogging. Haven't updated in a minute, so here ya go.

I've been a real busy boy. I swear. Working way too much. I've just about had it with the man. Making pretty houses for rich people. Hating every second of it, well not quite, but almost. Being reminded everyday why I went back to school. Wishing that would start paying dividends soon. Real soon. Got student loans to pay. Lots of loans. The dream is still alive, but in the meantime--a brother's gotta eat.

It hasn't been all bad. I have a little fun here and there. Last weekend I took a little trip down to Eureka, Ca. with my favorite girls in the whole world--the Emerald City Roller Girls--who took on the Redwood Rollers. Here's some pics from the trip:

Me being really cool, again. This was a vista point somewhere between Crescent City and Eureka. Beautiful. After leaving this spot I asked my fellow travelers, "What if the Govinator changed all the vista points to hasta la vista points?" Crickets ensued.

Serious Smack aka Your Mom aka Suzy Ninja Pants and most recently Serious Cliffhanger acclimating to Eureka quite nicely. Pretty much a seamless transition.

The Skatesaphrenics huddling up. This is moments before they gave the Redwood Rollers the beating of their lives. With this bout they finished up the season a perfect 5-0. Very proud.

Lamp Lumps pourin' some delicious Ninkasi for the homies @ the pre-after party. Gangster ish.

Trinidad Beach. Prolly the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. The iPhone camera doesn't do this place any justice. Really. Check it out if you're in the neighborhood. Trails, surfing, tidepools, etc... Two thumbs up.

Ma lady and I at the beach. No, you can't have her.

Couple of Ochre Sea Stars making sweet love, or maybe they're just cuddling? A bunch of anenomes, and a lone chiton. Love the tidepool! Nature, buddy!

A cute little Lined Shore Crab.

All in all, it was an amazing trip. Some camping in the Redwoods, a little roller derby, the after-party, the beach, amazing company... Good times. Good times.

I love you.

Obey Obama

I'm guessing that just about everybody and their moms have seen Shepard Fairey's Barack posters, but I like 'em so much I thought I would post one of them anyways.

I love Mr. Fairey's stuff. So cool, and very powerful.

And if you were wondering, yes Senator Obama will be getting my vote if he gets the nomination. Power to the people.

Merry Christmas!

I hope everybody has the bestest X-Mas ever! Peace to the Gods and the Earths.

Say something amazing. . . Do it.

So, uhh. . . I feel like I should be saying something meaningful or important or mind-blowing, but that's not really my forte. Sorry. I hope you love me anyways. PLEASE LOVE ME!!!

Mark Lewman dropped some pearls of wisdom today in my Creativity and Content class. Good stuff, real good. You really should of been there, but since you weren't here is a little something I found.

Confessions of a Recovering Trend Scout

THE COOLHUNTER
By Mark Lewman

I prepare trend reports for fortune 1000 companies.
I am paid to play
the disenfranchised against the disrespected
make the F1000 feel connected
to the cognosumers who reject them,
stuck in the cultural crosshairs.

I package the questions and organize the answers,
emailing the butcher, blackmailing the baker,
sharing the bone marrow with clandestine video game maker.

I tell them about funky black barbers in Memphis
using fire to cut hair.
Swedish teens bored to tears
soaking their tampons in vodka
to get juiced in school.
Crispin Glover joins the Wu Tang Clan
and nobody bothers to understand
but everybody says
dude that's cool.

The revolution
is a bunch of white kids
addicted to database pollution
yelling slogans, brandishing upside down crosses
bearing inverted icons;

Pillsbury wants to update the dough boy and make butter 'younger',
stick that fucker with a fork and call your mother,
scrape the lard from the fat of the land
and leave it smoking in the pan.

And some guy in a conference room in Ohio says into his speakerphone:
"Tell me more about the Krautrock movement and the abstract bands."
I spit out details to counteract,
and wipe my face with my cuff,
generating more fluff,
without concentrating on the end result,
just the next step which is an orchestrated effort to tap into tech step

to sidestep the fact that all packaged goods are the same,
only the name changes.
and the game rearranges and the world Wayne lives in
can be divided into stages, phases, trends, fads, and crazes.

Declare a war on a demographic,
paying top dollar for a guerilla campaign of street posters placed in
prime places
where kids congregate and pedophiles masturbate to juvenile faces,
services provided by an eco-terrorist graffiti artist specializing in
revitalizing heavy metal.
His brandalism spreads the viruses we peddle:
Kids in custom vans should crave candy and chemicals, rejecting
morals and resting on their laurels,
making fun of Pauly Shore
as they get addicted to death and keep whoring for more.

And some guy in a conference room in Ohio will smile. "This is teen cool
AND mom cool."

What's hot, what's right, what's not in the spotlight?
Hold a focus group and retool, train the pilots to tame the planes
and get ready for a midair refuel.

Do kids really think black is the new brown?
or is platinum the new black?
Who do we assassinate, and what era is ripe for a comeback?

Do you trust me to keep the world on track?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks Mark.