And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap

Let us return once more into the woods this August. And let us remember to pack lightweight long-sleeved shirts to protect our flesh from the flocks of ravenous skeeters who, as my and I hope all religions have it, are soldiers of the devil herself.

You guys in St. Louis, all you Pretty guys with your haircuts, you should come meet up with us this weekend in the woods by the lake in Wisconsin.

Those who do come will benefit from recalling our lesson learned earlier this summer. Which is this: should one find oneself lost in the woods, separated from one's mates by fault, folly, or having to piss and getting confused, the first step of survival is securing HIGH GROUND (which likewise proves valuable in times of flash flood and/or general low ground boredom). If the terrain is flat, one is advised to climb a tree so he can have a gander to locate one's mates or even one's campsite. If still one is lost, or if one is too fat or drunk to climb a tree, one should unholster one's handgun and fire two shots into the air, two shots being the camping code for "I am lost, and unable to find camp." One's mates should, if they have been trained, fire a single handgun shot into the air, translating to, "Camp is here. We have provisions, you fat fuck." One should not, above all things, panic, or even succumb passively to the pervasive and insidious enemy of all campers, which circles even more tightly than the skeeters about one's head. That enemy is fear, pussy. Let's go camping.

The other, "Action Jackson."

Jackson has a Pretty stalker. from David Thomas on Vimeo.

Here we have Jackson, not to be confused with this Jackson and some strange stalker. He's a rad dude that rips at life, he can also skateboard very well, just like the other Jackson. A little teaser to what's coming in the fuuutttuuurre.

p.s. Did I have to many Pretty plugs in here? Never.

Dude, you've changed

Hey hippie boy, go plant a garden.

Nugget of Sense

In terms of shameful acts I commit regularly, spending time on the Slap message boards registers not terribly high. I do it. Okay? Just about daily. I never post comments, and rarely do I actually care about anything I read, but I do indeed click and read the nonsense, the rampant homophobia and idiot bickering and more -- all in the name of palpating trends and opinion within this seven-billion dollar industry of ours, watching as the beast grows ever fatter and sillier. We all know that fable about the man who takes his ear off the street and learns a valuable but difficult lesson about mistakes and goes on WHO CARES BECAUSE THE MAN IS OLD. One out of one doctors agree.

But so lookit what I found just now, this tiny little genius reminder woven into a thread about some 5-second Shane O'Neill promotional clips for our coming era of quantified skateboarding (and please note that the comment arrives from some place completely out of the subjective blue, a statement apropos of nothing and thus a perfect commentary on this upcoming Street League circus of competition):

I skated Love last night from 10:30 till 2am. It was fucking great.

Thanks, Josh Kalis.

Clark Hassler is My/Your Mom

This interview is easily the best thing I've read in the last week, and keep in mind that I am a motherfucking serious reader, like pro when it comes to reading. I know all the letters and punctuations by heart AND I also know that when you read out loud you've got to make sure to not end every line like a question? Or people will want to strangle your face and nuts? And that occasionally looking up from the paper can make the audience appear naked and don't say "cunt" in front of an audience because they'll never, ever, no matter who they are, treat the word the way skateboarders and Brits treat it, which is like a small, rounded stone. Clark Hassler.

Also I know nobody here cares about sports because we all wear cardigans and boat shoes now, but this seems pertinent: I think the thing nobody's acknowledging about this Miami Heat basketball trainwreck is that all these guys wanted, Dwayne and Chris and Lebron, was a little more Dude Life in their lives. Calf-tats of Grimace coming soon.