Well actually, more than just once, most of the time I got caught though. Only a few times I got away "SCOTT FREE!!!!!". A few years ago my cousin "Stabwound" Joe and I went on an impromptu camping trip to Neah Bay which ended in us being wanted by the Washington State Police. The trip ranks right up there with a Solstice Party I went to in an Oregon State Park that ended with a serious family rift, my swearing off Everclear, and having to sign paperwork that said I would not return to Clackamus County Oregon for some amount of years (I don't remember how long really, I was nowhere near sober but I am not rushing to go back anyway).

Both trips were actually proof that us city boys are not campers, not even close. Clackamus County will have to wait for the time being lets focus on Neah Bay.

It was August, it was hot, and at the time I lived in the absolute hottest apartment building in the world. Joe lived upstairs from me, and came to tell me he was thinking of buying a video game, and wondered did I want to go with.

"Sure, I guess"

Well he was thinking of getting a video game, OR going camping. Did I want to go camping?

"Sure, I guess."

Thing is I don't camp so I don't have camping gear, a sleeping bag, a knife, signal mirrors, iodine tablets, bear spray, any of that shit. So we had to do what I am good at, go shopping.

Thing is that I wasn't working back then, and I only had enough money for the BAREST of essentials.

Beer, a couple cans of soup, a can of Spam and I got the rest of my money in singles since the possibility of going to a shit hole strip club on the peninsula was really tempting (as it turns out they don't have any).

We left in the early evening, waited forever for the damn ferry and by the time we made it out to the peninsula it was dark out and we were good and drunk. We realized that of course there was no way we were going to be able to secure a legit campsite, and we also knew that it might be risky to just set up a tent in some strangers yard on the Indian reservation. Being a city boy I had always thought Indian reservations would be kind of a romantic place. The last bastion of the forgotten cultures, art, and languages of our indigenous neighbors. I thought that till the first time I went to one, and this trip hammered that point home. It was a shit hole, run down shacks with mud gardens, nothing you would include in a tourist book, or on any "must see" list. There was even what looked like a cabin built from spare plywood with a sign on it that said Neah Bay Single Mothers Club, and it was boarded up. I remember thinking to myself that with nothing to do within 50 miles of course these young girls were getting knocked up, and with their one support resource closed down how could one feel like they had much of a chance? Anyway we found a sign that said if we followed the road it sat next to we could get to Cape Flattery, the northwestern most point of the U.S. Seemed like a great idea, I mean if we were going to do some pirate camping this seemed like a better option than most.

It was nearing midnight as we started down the road, mind you at this point the road was a small, dimly lit road BUT it was a road. Pavement, a curb and all. It wasn't long before the road narrowed a bit, and it was about at this point we started driving by trucks parked along the road with various naked body parts pressed against the windows. Faces, a foot or two (or three), an ass, i think you understand. So it would seem this is why they have enough of a pregnancy problem to warrant a single moms club, but the fact that nobody has a home or motel they can go to explains the lack of funding that closes such a place down. So, I did what anyone would do and hopped in the first F-250 I saw to get in on the action. No really, we just kept driving. Road continues to narrow, pavement turns to gravel, curbs disappear, and the surrounding shrubs and trees are getting a LOT closer to the open windows of Stabwound's Kia. Of course, we need a place to set up a tent so we keep going.

Our path continued to deteriorate though, eventually the gravel gave way to dirt, which in turn became harder and harder to navigate. We were really off roading at this point, roots and rocks and the whole deal. We had to roll up our windows because the trees had gotten so overgrown, and the road had narrowed so much that we were getting leaves in the car and branches were whipping us in the face. There wasn't even close to enough room for us to turn the car around and bail, so we were committed like it or not. We were joking that we were never getting back, one day they would just find our mummified corpses in his Kia. No cell service meant that if something did go wrong we would never be able to reach help. Since it was so dark, we could see nothing that wasn't directly in the path of our headlights, and there was no way we could back our way out. Honestly, I was getting worried. Then we saw a ray of hope.

A ray of hope in the form of another cars tail lights way out in front of us, which told us two things. First of all we still had a long way to go to get to the water, and at least we also knew that if we did die out here, there was a decent chance that the car ahead of us would find us on their return trip. So we decided to give up and as soon as we found a spot to set up a tent we were going to call it a night.

Eventually, we found a clearing and set up the tent. It was freezing so we downed some beers and ate some cold soup and went to bed. Every 2 hours or so Joe would wake me up, make me chug a beer, or three and let me pass back out. Early in the am, about the time the sun came up Joe woke me up in a bit of a hurried fashion. As it turned out we were sleeping on a construction site and the guys wanted to get to work. In our packing up we noticed a few things, first we were so near the water had we continued another minute or two we would be testing the Kia's buoyancy and that the tail lights we were following were in fact lights on a buoy, likely to keep ships from coming ashore and killing the locals so focused on making babies in the cab of an '84 F-150 that they wouldn't know it till a barge was sitting on them. So we turned the car around and bailed, one can of spam, maybe a half rack or so, and like 40 bucks in singles in tow.

We decided to take a different route home, which turned out to be a decision that could cost us some jail time and possibly even our tush virginity (in all fairness I can only really speak for my own tushes integrity). We decided to take HW-101 along the coast since we had to leave early anyway. On the way we ran into a dead stop traffic jam on a one lane road. Luckily for us we were the first car, and the flagger who stopped us appeared to be more busy smoking cigarettes, and drinking Gatorade than keeping an eye on the restless drivers she had stopped, who were getting more and more iritated by the minute. By that, I mean Joe of course. So we are sitting there, half drunk, and getting pissed off because we don't even see any reason for this chick to have stopped us. There is a bunch of State workers moseying around, again pretty much smoking cigarettes and generally wasting tax payer money. So Joe made his move, and he gunned it. Miss Smokes 'N Gatorade leaped into action and literally threw herself onto the hood of our car, slid across it and landed in the gravel. She made a noise sort of like when you slit a cats throat with a rusty hacksaw blade (You all know). We did the only thing two self respecting, god fearing, city boys could do. We ran. The Kia hit top speed, and we rocketed southbound on HW-101 at a hair raising 50mph. Sure that they had gotten our plates. Open beers in hand we made our getaway like they were coming for us. Course for all we knew they were.

We got maybe a mile down the road when we saw why they had blocked traffic, a huge machine was coming toward us with some kind of remote controlled tree pruner thing on it. It was wider than the lane it was in and was protruding into our lane, so Joe hit the shoulder and raced past. We were getting kind of excited, it was clear by the looks on the faces of the guys operating the fancy tree pruner that they had been made aware of our assault on their co-worker. So we kept going, figuring we had made it and were off "scott free".

Course, we are idiots. Someone had to be at the other end blocking traffic that was trying to go northbound, someone with a walkie talkie I would imagine. As we approached the southern road worker camp, it was clear they had prepared for us. Three flaggers stood in the middle of the road, with stop signs held out. The one in the middle was a lady who looked a little like Brian Urlacher. Joe faked left, gunned it to the right and left Urlacher and her pals in the dust, coughing on our exhaust. They had even thrown their flags at us as we got away. Key words there of course are, "got away". The words I left out were "for now".

We pulled off on a logging road to make a needed pit stop, and parked on the side of the gravel road with a view of HW-101. Wasn't long before we saw a small army of State Patrol cars (Okay, it was three), sirens blaring screaming up the highway in the direction we had just come from. A little reminder that our adventure may not be quite over with.

So we got back to the road and took our chances. Driving away from the cops seemed logical, but we couldn't be sure that there wasn't more cops coming and this stretch of road gives you very little in the way of options. In fact the logging road we had pulled off on was the only road we had seen that intersected the highway and it had certainly come at a good time.

About a mile down the road we ran into a full on road block, state transportation vehicles blocking the road with flashing lights on, and state workers all over clearly ready for a final showdown. We had a clear view of them a minute or two before they had a clear view of us. So I tied a bandanna around our rear license plate and we rolled down the hill, as we saw them selectively letting other people through the blockade, clearly keeping an eye out for the white Kia. Now we were in a string of cars about 10 or so long so we knew they couldn't see us just yet, then as we got closer we saw that at least one worker was on to us. So Joe did what he had to, cranked the car hard to the right and gassed it. Right over the shoulder, we were crossing some brutal terrain and traversing one hell of an incline. I thought the car might flip but somehow we stayed upright. The shoulder dipped down into a bit of a ravine and as we pulled back on the road we fully went airborne (imagine the Dukes of Hazard but with a white Kia covered in mud).

I would like to report it doesn't end here, that the trucks came after us, but all I remember seeing is workers chasing after the car, I assume after the plate number. We crested a hill, and kept it moving. Adrenaline was high, and so was our speed.

Finally, we got to a spot where the highway split off in a few different directions, and we knew that meant we had a pretty decent chance of getting away. I mean fuck they can't chase us forever. We pulled the bandanna off the rear license plate, picked a route and took off. Like I said adrenaline was high, and I remember punching the shit out of each other and screaming "Scott free" at the top of our lungs for like the next half hour.

We stayed alert for a few weeks at least, waiting to see if Joe got anything in the mail, and nothing ever came. We had truly gotten away clean.

"Scott freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee bitches!!!!"

p.s. Go google search white kia, see what comes up. Just don't do it at work.

See, my hangover is just starting to be manageable, and soon I will start again so I figure if I want to drop a turkey day post now is the time. 

First of all, of course I want to say thank you to all of you who make TWC fun, without you all it would be two guys from Seattle with an online diary and that is just not cool. 

This is also the time of the year where I start looking back over the year that was, and thinking about the one to come. Every year I come up with a new personal motto, it is a habit that goes back many years. It really started around the time my mom died when my guy Steve One would come over for the holidays and we would spend a lot of time doing irreparable damage to our livers along with my pops and room mate Dallas. A LOT of Henn XO got downed in those years. Mottos of years past have been "In 97, nobody gets over.", "Fuck the haters", and a personal favorite "Next year, we settle for VSOP" (I think we were all unemployed). I remember these get togethers fondly, a lot of Tupac, a lot of drinking, one year on Christmas we made a make shift deck and bought a barbecue so we could eat some steaks. All grocery needs were handled via shoplifting, and since that was the case there used to also be a pantry stuffed full of Moet. One the smoke cleared (literally), and the recycling was taken out we would emerge with a fresh plan for the coming year. This year is no different, well except I suppose for the fact that I have to work tomorrow, and we are getting old, not to mention the fact that my family is once again all speaking to each other and so we will be closer to sober, and will actually have turkey. Okay, so things are a lot different, but that is life, we live, we learn, we get old and we calm down a bit over the years. So soon I will have a new motto for you, and since I have already been discussing this just a little with TWC's, absolute favorite sneaker artist, Mr Mannie Fresh I am in fact a bit ahead of the curve this year. I am pretty sire, as always things will evolve around who has been getting over on me this year, and sadly this year that has been women. Damn it all.

One more thing, and in reality this is the most important thing of all. The Detroit Lions need to step their uniform game up in a major way. They look like a damn pop-warner team. Christ, I had nicer uniforms at good old Bishop Blanchet High School in the early nineties. Go Braves!

Thanks again to you all for making this place fun, now go have a drink, eat too much turkey and pull for my Seahawks, trust me we need the sports love here in Seattle right now.

...almost.

This is a beautiful piece of design though. I try to stay away from re-posting stuff i see on other blogs, but i thought more people should see and appreciate this.






"Realized by the Industrial Design Department of Alberto Del Biondi Industria Del Design in Italy, this avant-garde concept plays on the latest bicycle materials and technology. The new design is a minimalistic play on the typical city bike, using the concept of less is more to an extreme degree. Lines are simple yet dynamic while the overall design is an exotic concept that stimulates the imagination. The shape is extreme, flying in the face of classic bike iconography. The bike’s makeup is primarily carbon based allowing for maximum weight reduction in the finished design. Although carbon requires great expertise in modelling, in this scenario it allows Biondi the freedom to work the non-traditional design in order to retain key flexibility characteristics and strength qualities. The model is considered a ‘premium city bike’ for commuting and inner city touring. The design provides a platform for an extensive rider base while maintaining extreme styling and innovation."

A few pics I found on my cousin "Stabwound" Joe's Facebook page. Took these pics a few years ago on an impromptu camping trip/road trip that ended in our being wanted by the State Patrol, and a bit of a car chase that also included Washington State Transportation road workers literally trying to throw their bodies in front of his Kia to get us to stop while we offroaded along side the freeway to get past a bit of a road block they had set for us. The pictures are of a resort on Washington's Olympic Peninsula, I took them just because I thought it pretty funny what the sign promised and what the place appeared to offer. Looks less like a fun place and more like a place where a man wearing a burlap sack on his head hunts co-eds year after year with a sickle. Anyhow in the end we did not stay there, and we did get away.

Holla!

One more thing, tonight I watched a show called "How I Met Your Mother" and it is officially the first time I have heard of a technique for sealing the deal with a woman called The Naked Man. They promise it works 2 out of 3 times. It is in essence where at the end of a date, you make an excuse to get yourself up to her place (Need to use the bathroom, want to see her fish tank, or maybe you suggest that you think the feds are tailing you) and then when shes not looking you strip naked and when she returns she will think it so funny, and will be so impressed by your bravery and spontaneity that she will sleep with you because she basically doesn't know how else to react. I am pretty sure in reality this would often end in a pepper spraying (my dad hit me with that stuff once, IT WORKS). So I was wondering if anyone has ever tried The Naked Man, or if I could talk any of you into it?

Carry on.

...but i just came across the pic and thought id post it.

Its a portrait i did of my sister and her husband, based on a pic from their wedding day. This is the raw drawing, on illustration board with a lot of extra space around it, cause i hadnt decided what size frame i wanted to use. Its long since been framed and hung up at her house. But i never took a good pic, or scan. So this is all i have to show.

Youll have to trust me when i tell you it came out nice, and looks a lot better in person. And the fade on the tux jacket is flawless, if i do say so myself.

Okay, so it occurs to me that I am not much of a writer in the technical sense. In fact I don't think I am much of a writer no matter how you dice it, but I seem to get credit from people for being a pretty good story teller. I hear "Tell the one about when you and the hooker had to split cab fair home from the cemetery and you ended up pushing the cab in the snow" a lot, and I promise I will tell that story another day. I am a firm believer in keeping a card up your sleeve, so just when things start to feel slow around here it is hooker story time (and in her defense she may not have been a hooker, but if I were a betting man....). I certainly hope that you folks enjoy what I have to say in spite of the spelling errors, punctuation oversight and the obvious grammatical shortcomings (mind you they are not obvious to me or I'd correct them). The sad fact is that I write what I write, then I edit it, spellcheck it, sometimes have a co-worker or friend read it over then post it. Then often edit it maybe 3 or so more times, usually this is rapid-fire. Like 3 or so edits in the first 20 minutes after I post the entry. So what I am trying to say is that the crap I ask you to read is the product of a considerable amount of blood, sweat, and editing. In the end what this says is I am not the sharpest tool in the shed, and in fact I might be as sharp and honed to a razors edge as a beach ball.

On the other hand readership is going up, our numbers are exciting, I am still always impressed by the global readership (both France, Nova Scotia, and Austria so far today) and of course the loyal readers here in the States. I only really know they are loyal because some are friends of The Warfare, some leave comments (again THANKS for that), and I see some cities on the list more than once a week and in some cases I can't imagine we have more than one reader in said city. Oklahoma City is one, I like to believe it is in fact Clay Bennett that is stopping by trying to keep abreast of the pulse of Seattle. Clay, if that is you reading, good luck with your team and I hope someone mails you an unexploded surplus mine from French Indochina. Mind you I want that mine to stay unexploded, I no longer want Clay dead but I would like his office building to be evacuated along with his bowels.

That brings me to the quote I used as the title, it is from The Wire, episode 1 of Season 5. I hadn't seen but one episode of Season 5 yet, but am totally addicted to the show and have waited far too long for Blockbuster to get its act together. Even what I saw of the first episode was just like half of it on my ipod. I recently joined Netflix since I can now stream movies right to my xbox360 and the first few slots of my queue are just The Wire Season 5. In that episode a grizzled old school newspaper editor pulls aside one of the new reporters and asks about a fire, the youngster explains that 116 (I think that was the number) people were evacuated. The editor explains that "you can evacuate a building, but to evacuate a person is to give them an enema". That line stood out since although I enjoy writing I am absolutely the one the editors would have to talk to about the differences between "their", "they're", and "there" (Yes I know their implies ownership, they're is an abreviation for they are, and there generally refers to a place or a point in a conversation or the like, BUT when I get to typing I'm like the Tazmanian Devil and all rules go out the window), my clear overuse of parethesis (what can I say I love them), and of course how "...you can evacuate a building, but to evacuate a person is to give them an enema". If you evacuate a person due to a fire you now have two problems on your hands, literally.

So all seems to be good at Warfare HQ, as per the norm we have big plans on the horizon, and if we would stop drinking away our start up money we would have product for you now. Be patient when this land mine goes it's going to be big, big, big.

I ask because I must have no idea what is really art. I mean much of what I appreciate as art others would not, and I see a lot of shit hanging on walls with price tags that make me laugh. To some it is an investment, to others it is ONLY about talent. I think defining art is tough, in a way it is like porn. Like Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart is famous for having said "Hardcore pornography may be hard to define, but I know it when I see it.", and when you see how obscene some of what passes for art is you have to chuckle at how accurate my comparison is (send me a fucking dollar, paypal is bigfame@gmail.com). I can't tell you what art is, but I can point and tell you what is art to me.

In the end my personal opinion is that art is expression, and expression is at it's core communication. I use the term art loosely, as I think it should be, many, many people make art, some make a living at it, SOME of those people even have talent (mind you only some). To me the point is that art is often the answer to ones inabilty to communicate something they need to get across. Many artists have to create, they really have no choice in the matter. They simply have something they NEED to get out, be it sadness, love, admiration, frustration, anger, or even ambivalance. If you can't say it you might be able to paint it, write it, sculpt it, or even sing it. I mean, I often write what I would never have the nerve to say, and I rarely pass on those thoughts (often when I do, it is with women, and more often than not I regret it). Maybe I would do better to share what I make but the other thing about art it is that it is often opening up and exposing a nerve, a part of you that you otherwise couldn't or wouldn't share.  My art often embarasses me, so for me much of what I create nobody will ever see. Even the stuff that I am most proud of.

Often musicians are judged by record sales alone and in fact I think almost ANYTHING you could use to judge them would be better. First of all most people are idiots, mindless sheep who buy what they are told to, and listen to what Clearchannel decides they should. Art is similar, often what is popular is trash to me, while the artist having trouble selling their goods is the one who is really creating something of value, not monetary value but real true value. I am certainly not saying that if you sell a  painting, or anything else you have created that you have given away your soul or that you are no longer truley an artist, only that that can not be the barometer alone. In the September issue of Forbes on page 120 they have some quotes that pertain to art and creativity, many were good, one stood out.

"True creativity often starts where language ends."

Arthur Koestler

"Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem."

Brian Aldiss

"Make visible what, without you might prehaps never have been."

Robert Bresson

There are plenty more, some pretty good really but the one that really stood out to me is the first of those three. For me art is often about what I feel can not be expressed with just my words. Lots of people make art, some of you probably don't even know you do. You may do it in foods you prepare, or even in the way you talk, certainly in paintings, photographs, custom shoes (Mannie I want a wallet), writing, sculptures, even in how we do our jobs, and hell in whatever it is we use to "get our point across". I am not really sure where this entry is going, only that I am trying to use TWC as a means to share what I am thinking since not all of us have a visual medium that we feel like people need to see. So I guess in the end the message should be go make something, art is not beyond anyones reach. It is in much of what we do, as long as we stretch and force ourselves to reach beyond what is easy and instead ask a bit more of ourselves.

Okay so I am about done with a bottle of Cab and I no longer really have the energy to edit this so I am going to just post it, hopefully some of it makes sense, and I don't sound too damn crazy. Love you all.

BFO

...heres the poster, hung up, and surprisingly well lit.






Along with a nice package i got today from my man Boston Chris. Having a hook up at New Balance on the east coast shits on your average Foot Locker mall hookup, and ill leave it at that.



I love nike, especially Zoom Air (although few things are more beautiful that some full length air max cushioning), but its hard to beat the comfort of some high end New Balance running shoes. These 992s are my new favorite shoes.



So i christened them witha smoke and a beer, on the porch.

...on this poster.

Ill post a pic of it hung up in my apartment later on tonight.

Seriously I have nothing to say, but wanted to post something because we have been getting a real increase in traffic and I gotta do what I gotta do in order to maintain a healthy readership. So all I am going to do is "vomit" all kinds of stuff on here that has been on my mind, hopefully something will be of interest.

Okay for one thing I have recently re-discovered Facebook. I joined along time ago but never started using it until now. It is like Myspace for adults, as in no spam, no crappy band requests, no bikini girls trying to get me to come see their "private pics" and I presume for girls less guys trying to "holler". I say that because I have actually been able to use it to reconnect with people, like real people from my past that I otherwise would not have been able to find short of donning my ninja outfit and lurking around alleys which is just plain creepy. I am amazed at how many people I have found in just a few days. I also think it is funny how some of the folks have turned out. I know a girl who is now teaching orphans in Thailand, some that I thought would never marry who are now married with kids, and one that I knew as a talented graphic designer is now also a talented photographer (peep http://www.chrismckeown.com/) as well as the MVP of the Irish Football League (not football as in soccer, but football like as in pads, helmets and the whole deal, and he has to be one of the only starting QB's not in high school to weigh in at 147lbs and stand 5'11".). I never had any real luck re-connecting with people on Myspace but am totally impressed with Facebook and since I have it on my phone I can Facebook myself crazy throughout the day.

I have also learned that there is a quality in some women that I am attracted to. One that I have been all my life and that for some reason these women end up in massage. I liked them long before they chose a field but they ended up on a similar path. Interesting, no idea what it means but it is interesting.

Speaking of girls who went into massage, I got a silly story for you. Remember how scary girls were when you were in elementary school? How the girl you liked was the single scariest person on the planet? Well maybe it was just me. Anyhow I recently was reacquainted with the girl who defined my love life through elementary school. I was crushing for this girl in 3rd grade, it was tough. I remember staring at her phone number and imagining calling her, I even remember making the call a few times with a list in front of me with topics to touch on in the event that things got quiet.

1. Math homework.
2. Duran Duran (I wasn't cool enough to be a fan but she was in love with Roger as I recall).
3. Break dancing.
4. Nintendo.
5. I hate Mr. Sayah, do you?

Anyway, the summer between 3rd and 4th grade I got Leukemia and when I came back the next year I was assigned to an island of seats (4 desks facing each other) with a guy (name escapes me), a girl named Tia (who was referred to as the blond bombshell in my presence before since she wore make-up and had boobs at I am guessing about 5 years old) and of course........her. Christ that was the scariest thing ever, especially since I came back to school with no hair, still undergoing treatment, I had lost 30lbs (wish I could do that one again though.)and "fragile" to say the least. I hadn't thought of that in years. Sometimes it is cool to think of the past, but right now the future is on my mind too

Our economy is terrible. Work sucks right now, corporate won't even approve a P.O. for toilet paper so employees are bringing in their own. Lame. For the first time in my life I have a real sense of optimism though when it comes to my countries political future and that feels good. So as long as I can stay employed and sane things will get better.

Somehow I missed the art walk, happens more than it should. I am pissed this time. Gordon once again you have disappointed me. Next time I guess. I need more art in my life right now, all my projects are stalled and I need a spark. Ideas?

For the record I think Indian food is the best food ever.


Anyway I am sorry I am rambling, like I said I have a lot on my mind and nothing to say.

Also it is clear I can't decide whether it is re-connect, or reconnect so I am going to continue using both. If you have an answer let me know.

...Frank Chimero made a poster a while back with this exact quote. I love the quote, but dont feel the same way about his poster. So i made one myself.

I used Futura. And only Futura, for the typography. Dont ask me why, theres no significant reason. I happen to like Futura.

Im gonna print this out as an 18x24 poster, frame it, and hang it in my apartment. Ill post pics after i do.







This is the original by the way...

...If anyone out there knows where i can find a pair of these Nike Air Max Lights in grey and neon, in a 11.5, PLEASE let me know. I think they were a UK exclusive, but i know there are some folks from that side of the pond that read this, so i figured its worth a shot.



And i saved this pic a long time ago. Its from some nike art show, by who knows who. But i thought it was pretty creative and well done. And it kinda relates to this post, so im posting it for your enjoyment.

...for a pretty consistent client of mine named Nate.

We got a project in the works thats unreal. I did all the design work on it, and hes taking care of the production and eventual marketing of it, but for now, its top secret.

Anyway, this was a logo he wanted done based on an Eastern Conference NHL logo. I wouldnt even say i so much designed this logo, as modified the existing one to fit his needs.

Well we are averaging something close to 80 visitors a day, and yet we really don't know a whole lot about you folks who stop by to see us. I know that we get some readers by way of NT for sure, and the various Scuba boards I frequent. I know we get a few that are family, both Chris' dad and my own are known to stop by from time to time (and even say hello via the comments). We certainly get a Myspacer or two, maybe even a Facebooker. That's all great, but I am more interested in what brings you here in the first place, what brings you back (if you ever return) and what could we offer that would make your time at Warfare better. I was looking at the site stats and noticed something pretty freaking cool. We are not a regional site anymore, not like when it was ONLY our dads, girlfriends, and the occasional homie with a few minutes online before they have to go back to their cell that were stopping by. We are not even national anymore, I mean for a while there I was pretty sure it was only Retro Inspired in Los Angeles that was keeping us "national". It has come to my intention that we are now global, yes that is right The Warfare Collective has gone international.

The pictures are the leaders of the different countries represented in our "Last 100 visitors" listed in the site counter. Pretty god damn cool to think people (or at least a person) in Japan, Hungary, Brazil, Australia, Poland, The Philippines (What up Munsy Man) and even, you guessed it, the ol' US of A, among others find us interesting enough to stop by and spend an average of almost a minute and a half appreciating the kind of stuff that we think is interesting enough to share. So please do us a favor. With 80 visitors a day, we average MAYBE 1 or 2 comments a day (and lets face it most of those are from me). So at the end of every post is a Comment link, USE IT!!!! Writing a blog is fun, but writing one with very little exchange is a bit like talking to a wall, and wile I have done that often in life I actually enjoy it more with a naked Spanish girl with long curly hair, but would settle for a bit of chit chat with each and every one of you. So have something to say? Say it, tell us we suck (this means you Nick), think I should stop rambling? Fine, want to go on a date? I'm in and thanks to a recent string of bad dates I even have a decent list of nice night spots we could go (really I am lonely). Whatever's clever, just click comment and say hello, tell us where you are, what you think of us, if you will ever come back, and why not. We love you all, but we just want you to say hello once in a while, or even just tell us to stop calling you. If commenting is not your thing that is cool, throw me a note at bigfame@gmail.com (especially if you are a girl, accuratley described above).

ED NOTE: You can email me as well, if you feel the need. oo206oo@gmail.com

Thanks - Chris

...is run by some chumps.

I entered this dumb contest a while back, mostly cause i liked the reference picture they provided and thought it'd be cool to draw. There was no real prize (a t-shirt) but like i said, i thought id be fun to draw and possibly put in my portfolio.

Anyway, the winner for the t-shirt design contest was supposed to be announced on the 21st of last month. Ive sent 2 emails, to 2 different addresses at complex.com
trying to get an answer about who won. And i left a comment on marc ecko's personal blog. No answers.

Its not even like it was a big prize that they just didnt want to part with, so they pretended the contest never happened. The prize was that the group would wear your t-shirt and the pic of it would be posted on the site. I mean, complex.com is a huge media conglomerate, i expect more out of them than this. Ridiculous.

Anyway, if anyone wants to buy this drawing, ill sell the original straight up. No one knows who these lame rappers are anyway, so you could just play it off as an homage to old school hip hop. Make me an offer.



Yes, im mad.

because I read a lot, a lot of newspapers, blogs, magazines, books, whatever and of late the topic of our new president has been a hot one and I wouldn't be the first to use that applicable title. I am not going to make a bunch of entries with my thoughts, because that is not why you guys visit our little spot on the web, but I am going to apologize now since this entry will likely be all over the map.

As far as Obama being my president elect, I am proud of my country for making the right decision (for once?). I am optimistic in a way I never have been in my life. This must be what it felt like to be a supporter of John F. Kennedy, or even one of the many who went to sleep thinking McGovern would destroy Nixon in 1972, only to wake up to really bad news. I am not a supporter of Obama because he is black (I will get back to this though.), I am a supporter of him because I believe he is a leader and that he represents the kind of change that we need. I believe he is pro-active, just look at his aggressive first week. I believe he will look past party lines and make decisions because they are the right ones, not the popular ones and not the easy ones.

All I have heard this week from customers at work, and from friends via text, e-mail and in person is how happy and optimistic they are. Everyone has an extra hop in their step, a smile on their faces, and even text messages from the biggest sour pusses I know have had an extra :-) or two. Mind you, I live in one of the bluest of blue states, so it comes as no surprise here. Although living in my indigo world can also be a curse. It is exactly why I went to bed four years ago thinking there was NO way this country would elect W again. Ouch.

I keep hearing about how black people are finally getting their moment, and while I get it, I don't fully agree. First of all this is not ONLY a moment for black people, this is a moment for us all. This is like the beginning of a relationship when everything is new, when you are so enamored with the possibilities, and so in love with the feeling that comes with being so happy about something that just feels so right. Just like all those times in my life I have been in that mind state I feel like this time, this time it will be the one. The one that never sours. My take on the race card is this. First Barack is clearly too qualified, and too intelligent to have played it. As far as black people having their moment, I have a few stories to share.

First of all, I watched the acceptance speech with my niece, My'Ana. She is six years old, and is mixed, with a white dad, and a black mom. She was happy that Barack won but really MOSTLY because she knew everyone around her had voted for him. It was a little like when she walks in while I am watching a football game and asks "Are the ones in blue or the ones in white the good guys?" and on hearing my explanation proceeds to pull for my Seahawks on my say so, while cutting the hair off yet another Hannah Montana doll. Then all of a sudden she noticed something, she noticed that our new president was "mixed" just like her. She was really excited, and even asked if that meant she could maybe be president. I told her it did and what I realized, was that for her, and many black kids growing up in this country this was a new revelation. As many times as kids have been told they could be anything they wanted to be if they just worked hard enough, black kids all had to feel that this was not reality until now. Finally one of those little boys who was told they could be anything they wanted to be, made it happen. This is part of the pride we saw in the streets of Chicago on Tuesday night (and in Seattle, New York, Kenya, England, and...).

My cousin Anthony, who is black, was adopted by my aunt and uncle as a baby and got to vote for the first time in his life for a black president. His brother Joe had to drive him to another county to vote as Ant hadn't kept up to date since moving and could only vote at a courthouse miles away. Joe made a point when he explained how proud he was to have helped his kid brother take part in such a big election. His point was that for far too long every time society has told a black man no it came with a few stones in their pockets. Over time those stones add up, and for some it holds them back and for everyone in that situation it is at the very least a burden. Joe said it felt like he saw about half those stones fall out of Anthony's pockets when Obama won. Not all the stones mind you, but certainly a weight had been lifted. That is why you have to understand the collective feeling that this election really does mean "Yes We Can".

I said earlier that I look at other blogs, DJ Bana, Tommie Battle, and people like that with a really special eye for photography make me jealous, and I follow their work often. I wish I could take a great picture to accompany my posts but I can't so instead if you want to see good photos, go see them ( I owe Tommie for the great picture I used up top today), and if you want more political blogging you have plenty of options there too, but I am done with it. Check back soon for more art from Chris and more poop jokes, and goldfish pranks from me. Thanks again guys for keeping up with us, and even more for putting up with us.

and I speak from personal experience here, pee BEFORE you drink a bottle of cough syrup. That is all.



UPDATE: No, I didn't pee the bed, BUT I found it hard to hit the toilet.

...but watch it, and enjoy it.

It starts off slow, gains momentum, and ends with a bang.

If you dont laugh, God have mercy on your soul.

Im not gonna try to describe how important this is for the country, cause its been said a hundred times already, and by far more eloquent people than myself. So im just gonna post a clip of the acceptance speech. I dont care which way you voted, or whether you like Obama or not, this was a hell of a speech.

Thanks to mstrpln for the pic.