This is absolutely capable of blowing your brains out of your head.




The very first cassette tape I ever bought for myself was the ‘Wayne’s World’ soundtrack and Warrant’s, ‘Dirty Rotten Filthy Stinking Rich’. Isn’t that funny as hell to think that some of us used to go browse new cassettes to buy? I don’t think that I ever bought a record to listen to, rather than collect, until I was much older than when I bought those first two cassettes. If I remember correctly, the first two CD’s I ever stole were Pearl Jam’s ‘Ten’ and ‘Nevermind’ by Nirvana. Check out this unbelievable Eddie Vedder impersonation.

The Black Sheep’s ‘A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing’, was definitely the first rap album I ever heard, my homeboy Joey Joyce turned me onto it when I was just a lil’ pup. He was a cool cat, we used to run around all summers together and fuck shit up (we belonged to the same swim club), his mom was a clown, we found our first bong under his clown moms car seat, and smoked the shit out of it.He lit a van on fire just to see what would happen and we used to break into this garden center store he worked at when we were like 14 and terrorize or BMX bikes all through there. We would race the forklifts and gators out back of that place til like 4 in the morning.

Anyway, he also turned me on to Digital Underground…and I remembered this terrible movie from the 90’s called Nothing But Trouble, that had Chevy Chase, Dan Akroyd, Demi Moore, and a bunch of other fucks in it too. I loved that shitty ass movie. I also loved this equally awful movie from back than called Disorderlies, starring… that’s right The Fat Boys!

Also, I happened to have to steal Rapper’s Delight by The Sugar Hill Gang three times when I was younger cuz I just had to always have ‘Apache‘ on the ready when the situation called for it.


Dizamn  y’all.

I been in cincy for a couple days and as I suspected, and I’m sure y’all coulda seen it coming, the food scene sucks. I put it to my brother, Bro Grylls, to dig up some supa fly spots puttin down scratch made flavor town delights. As it is, we ain’t found it… Til last night. This handsome lil son of a bitch that is my brother, who by the way is the coolest kid I know, is a goddamn Segway tour guide in town.

We go and do a bunch of family shit, then Bro Grylls says, ” How do you feel about drinkin a few beers and tearin up downtown on some segway’s”? Uh… Why haven’t we been doing this already. Fast forward, we end up at this hipster joint called Bakersfield, in OTR (Over The Rhine), doing tacos and a dope ass bevy program, totally suited to kill shit.
So dig it, y’all know what it’s like to go out and have dinner if you work in the service  industry , it is IMPOSSIBLE to sit down and simply enjoy a meal and be so overly satisfied and completely in love with a restaurant or club, but Bakersfield has got it goin on. I’m talkin bout white people doin LA style tacos in dumb ass Cincinnati… And slayin it. 11o’clock at night and the house is full.  Turned the restaurant like 4 times already and it’s a Thursday night. Guac and chip starter, 2 Al Pastor, boots of PBR and I have finally, after 31 years, hit pay dirt in Cincinnati. What’s RoboTaco? What’s Cazador? What’s Rico? Doesn’t matter anymore. Peeped the kitchen and not just house made tortillas, but house made tortillas ‘to order’. 1 is the number of gripes that I have. They aren’t doin double tortillas… Wtf. I get the opportunity to speak with one of the partners in this venture and she says, “we decided cincy mufuckas don’t know about double shells so why bother. Food cost right.” I can dig that, but I’m callin BULLSHIT.
Fuck Michelin, fuck stars, I got my own rating system called “The Chubby”. It’s a pass/fail thing. That’s it.
Bakersfield gives me a chubby fo sho. Menu is here. Photos here at Urbanspoon. Check the number of reviews… 90%
…and segway’s are dope as fuck if you been drinkin’. Check em out.

This one time, I was high…

… and I started to write this blog, got distracted, and spent 40 minutes looking at this. Wow. Then I found these photo’s, and got even less work done. Love the guy in #9, and what’s with the creeper in #25? Alone at a haunted house?

Last night, I was drinking on top of Lloyd center, about to go to a show, and somehow it reminded me of this ‘trip’ I had in Cincinnati. I haven’t thought about this in years but for some reason now it comes to me. My good friends Phil and Doug were with me and we were going to see a show or something… it kind of escapes me at the moment, but we ate a bunch of acid and were walking around downtown Cincinnati. We decide to go to the top of the Carew tower, one of the taller buildings in Cincinnati, and be high on top of it for a while. We are full on faced when we made this decision and we, probably very awkwardly, meander our silly asses through the lobby. It’s super posh and exquisite like you would expect of a downtown building’s lobby, definitely not the place for 3 assholes in dirty clothes to be just strolling about high on drugs.

I don’t remember exact details but we take the main bank of elevators to some ridiculously numbered floor like 60, or something like that. We got out at the end of the line and walk a hallway or twenty, I don’t recall, and board this really old… I mean, REALLY old, rickety, little ramshackle of a lift to take us to the roof. The inside of the elevator smelled old, it felt old on our skin, and it was covered in that horrible wood paneling from the seventies that was hot shit back then. This thing didn’t feel safe and it did not sound safe to boot. I mean this fucking elevator was bouncing on the way up, we could hear metal grinding, and it seemed as if this thing had definitely taken lives in the past. No help at all to the situation that me and my two stoned friends were in, but these two older “bros” ended up in this P.O.S. elevator with us. Totally awkward I might add because there are 5 of us belly to belly in this old death trap and three fifths of the population is high as fuck on acid. All of a sudden this elevator started going faster and faster as we went up, or so I thought. I start telling my boys that I felt like Charlie, in the elevator, in the Willy Wonky movie and I was sure we were picking up speed. At this point, I had convinced myself that we were going to smash out the top of the building and I started to get real anxious. I was sweating terribly and holding my breath, ready for the impact as we smashed into the roof. I could see that my boys were just as nervous as I was, and as all three of us are just about to lose it, the door opens and we spill out into the hallway gasping for air like we were underwater for too long. I remember seeing the two “jackoffs” look at each other like, what the fuck. They decided to abandon their mission so they didn’t  have to deal with us and our condition. We gathered ourselves, tucked our wits back into our pockets and found the stairwell to the roof… “Closed due to high winds” the sign read, and for some reason it didn’t seem to matter to us. We ended up sitting in the stairwell for the next hour or so just kinda being high on acid and fucking off.

Some time later we melted back down to the lobby and out into the streets when this que of people came filing by, all carrying these wrought iron decorative fireplace screens. There was like 8 of ’em briskly walking single file to some where’s and 1 of them, a woman, trips on the curb and drops her piece. It was pretty loud against the concrete and I walked right up to her and matter of factly said, “YOU’RE FIRED”! Why? I don’t know, I was on drugs. This other guy from her group got all up in my face and started yelling at me for being an asshole. I got scared, screamed, and all three of us ran!

To think of it now, this was way before Donald Trump and The Apprentice. That slimy fuck stole, “YOU’RE FIRED”, from me.

It’s the bloggish roggish bone.

When I was a kid I had an obsession with making flipbooks. I remember spending hours on them and once they were perfect I would just leave them places for other people to find. I have no idea why I am even remembering this right now, but I thought maybe I could find some online… I don’t know, I really haven’t thought about a flipbook in 15 years!

Holy Shit! These are exactly the style I used to do and everything with the stick men and the shaky hand appearance. Wow this takes me back. My favorite is the diver who gets captured underwater.

…Uh and this person is a badass for droppin this one!

I guess I gotta make one of these sucka’s now.

Double D gave us an assignment many terms ago and I loved it. Dinosaur Comics is one of my favorite strips. It’s in the Mercury here in Portland, and I have read it for years. The assignment was to use the blank Dinosaur Comics strip and create our own strip. I was so friggin’ jazzed for this project, but also to have the empty format forever!… Ha Ha Ha. You can have it too, enjoy.

I recently lost my thumb drive, meaning I don’t have a copy of all the numerous Dino Comics I have made, but if I do find it I’ll post ’em.

What kind of post would it be without some of that ol’ school gangster rap. I was 14 when this album came out and it meant something to me that these fools were from Cleveland… my home state. Instantly takes me right back to summers in Cincinnati, driving around blazin’, being young ass punks.


This blog is from the future.

If you can read this you are smart enough to read…      

which means you’re smart enough…

to vote. So do it

When I was growin up in Cincinnati, we used to buy weed off this hilarious black dude named, Charles White. And he always said it so proudly, Charles White! It was always kinda skanky weed, but this dude was so funny we loved going to see him. One day we’re there and he’s telling us this story about his baby mama being mad as hell at him, and he turns the corner and she hits him “wit a smootie”, as he put it.

We were fallin out laughing so hard at this story, and always kept smootie in our repertoire. We just thought it meant a sucker punch and we said it all the time when the situation was appropriate. Fast forward like a year later and me and my boys were back over at Charles White’s and he’s telling us about how we gotta hurry cuz he’s late for work and he can’t find his smootie.

We’re all like, wait a minute Charles, exactly what is a smootie?

“Oh you know, that thing you used to smoot out the wrinkles on your dress shirt man. Come On.”

Holy shit. This is why we went to see Charles White. Always a trip.

Charles’ baby mama hit him in the face ‘wit a smootie’.

Speaking of smooties

Today was a good day

I’m exploring…

your mom.

Thanks for that Dizzle. Every now and again I dig into some old school gangster rap, from back in the day when shit was way more gangster.

And I whipped up this jammie                             .

Digital painting in “Paint” mode is frickin fun as hell. I got turned on by this hilarious dude named Dizzle, and he’s a god damned genius. These “paint”ings are funny as shit. He’s got a blog which I love. Yall need to peep these shit’s fo sho.

He’s an inspiration.

No one ever see’s it.

I am a clumbsy ass dumb bastard sometimes. Today especially, I had a case of the dropseys, but the difference today is that I was pulling off the most amazing saves right after I bumblecocked something. The most impressive was a ninth pan full of kosher salt that I pushed off the front of the line at work today. Wouldn’t have been a big, or expensive mess but I matrixed a fucking go go gadget arm after it and like a pro came up with the victory. Not a grain of salt spilled. I know, I know, I’m a fucking star.

And no one was around to see my triumphant reception… I had a drank too many last night and that’s gotta be why my game ain’t so tight. Although I been on one bad like these fools, I wasn’t there last night. Check it out, my favorite is the guy at the 45 second mark… he almost saves it.