S Booms is an Amazeballs Photographer

All pics by our pal Boomsley.

Delorean : Bienvenidos a Barcalona and a perfectly rad blog

 Delorean a group that makes chill house music (you know it when you hear it) also put out an amazing blog that chronicles and captures some of the same fucked shit that we are into.
http://desparrameeeee.blogspot.com/
They've featured the above amazing Tiesto tattoo, the Ice-T commercial embedded here and more schtee worth a peep.

Out beyond the stars, I'm the satellite. Transmittin, fit in situations that'll rattle tykes - scare 'em, dare 'em to go farther. So then I go father,

"The Pineapple Express" apparently an actual weather thing and not just 1/2 of a great movie.

it's cold outside think it's past  time for me to grab the clapper and take mine.

Brilznikshire, U.K.

Beijing and Tianjin, China.

off the coast of Sydney, Aus. Note the dumb-dumb tiny boat in the lower right.

The Oldest Lawyer in the World

I saw this titan of the profession in the court house. Poppa Wu.

Environmentally Unfriendly Sardines from Whole Foods

Bought these sardines from Whole Foods, completely misleading package. "Sustainably caught along the California coast," but processed in Vietnam! Only about 8,000 miles apart! Like the Scottish langoustine problem in the New York Inquirer.
----
Meanwhile, I get physical Arby's coupons in the mail almost every day. All that paper, all that ink. Such a waste.

Review and Concepts for new France Football Shirt

My concept, no swoosh, vintage crest and red cuffs.

My concept, no swoosh and vintage crest

The official new France kit, why so serious?

I've got a new post up at Worldcupbuzz.com which I repost here:


After France’s embar­rass­ing exit from last summer’s World Cup, their Foot­ball Fed­er­a­tion has replaced the man­ager, much of the ros­ter and now their kits. After many years of Adi­das’ wildly-striped designs, new sup­plier Nike has intro­duced a severely sparse shirt. The just-bleu shirt fol­lows a trend toward yes­ter­year led by Umbro, itself a Nike sub­sidiary. Umbro’s recent shirts for Eng­land,Wales, Man­ches­ter City, Sun­der­land, and Rangers, amongst oth­ers, fea­ture a strong empha­sis on let­ting a club’s pri­mary colours shine and lack the ran­dom pan­els, accented pip­ing and strip­ing endemic to more recent shirt designs. Busy shirts may look fine on the pitch, but tend to look absurd when worn by the man on the street as opposed to sim­pler shirts such as France’s that more resem­ble polo or hen­ley shirts. Except when worn by Katy Perry.

While France’s new shirt is an instant clas­sic that would look nat­ural on such leg­ends as Just Fontaine, the con­trast of the vin­tage shirt design with the thor­oughly mod­ern crest is as jar­ring as an Eric Can­tona press con­fer­ence. So I decided to see how the new shirt would look with­out the dis­tract­ing Nike swoosh, with red cuffs and paired with the vin­tage crest worn by such immor­tals asMichel Pla­tini and Zine­dine Zidane.

Who Will Survive in America? Who Will Survive in America? Who Will Survive in America? Who Will Survive in America?

Comment #1 by Gil Scott-Heron:

The time is in the street you know. Us living as we do upside down. And the new word to have is revolution. People don't even want to hear the preacher spill or spiel because God's whole card has been thoroughly picked. And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey. The youngsters who were programmed to continue fucking up woke up one night digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys. America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes. The signs of Truth were tattooed across our open ended vagina. We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal. Two long centuries buried in the musty vault, hosed down daily with a gagging perfume. America was a bastard the illegitimate daughter of the mother country whose legs were then spread around the world and a rapist known as freedom, free doom. Democracy, liberty, and justice were revolutionary code names that preceded the bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling in the mother country's crotch and behold a baby girl was born, nurtured by slave holders and whitey racists it grew and grew and grew screwing indiscriminately like mother like daughter everything unplagued by her madame mother. The present mocks us, good Black people with keen memories set fire to the bastards who ask us in a whisper to melt and integrate. Young, very young, teeny bopping revolt on weekend young dig by proxy what a mental ass kicking they receive through institutionalized everything and vomit up slogans to stay out of Vietnam. They seek to hide their relationship with the world's prostitute alienating themselves from everything except dirt and money with long hair, grime, and dope to camo-hide the things that cannot be hidden. They become runaway children to walk the streets downtown with everyday Black people sitting on the curb crying because we know that they will go back home with a clear conscience and a college degree. The irony of it all, of course, is when a pale face SDS motherfucker dares look hurt when I tell him to go find his own revolution. He wonders why I tell him that America's revolution will not be the melting pot but the toilet bowl. He is fighting for legalized smoke, or lower voting age, less lip from his generation gap and fucking in the street. Where is my parallel to that? All I want is a good home and a wife and a children and some food to feed them every night. Back goes pale face to basics. Does Little Orphan Annie have a natural? Do Sluggos kings make him a refugee from Mandingo? What does Webster say about soul? I say you silly trite motherfucker, your great grandfather tied a ball and chain to my balls and bounced me through a cotton field while I lived in an unflushable toilet bowl and now you want me to help you overthrow what? The only Truth that can be delivered to a four year revolutionary with a whole card i.e. skin is this: fuck up what you can in the name of Piggy Wallace, Dickless Nixon, and Spiro Agnew. Leave brother Cleaver and Brother Malcolm alone please. After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you.

Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?

J-E-T-S

Some Jets photoshop love from the vaults.

A History of Eric Mangini Told Through Photoshops

"Mangenius in the Promised Land"
"What Dreams May Come to Tribe Fans"

"Manpoleon" by the equally talented Freddie Coupon.

"Horseballs"
"Villa 4 Life"
"Horseballs 2"
"A Frownie Christmas 2009"
"A Frownie Christmas 2010"
"E.M. is Fired as H.C. of the C.B."

"Wither the Mangenius?"

what you think i sold them all?

with all the people up in arms and reacting about gun control in the aftermath of this horrible AZ news, I thought I'd post Chris Rock's bit from many years ago.



He's right, like always. In an economic sense tho, I wonder what would happen if the gov'mint taxed the hell out of guns, like alcohol and cigarettes? NRA would never let that happen.

crazy suits, crazy hair, crazy jazz

Ornette coleman at his free jazz best. it starts off tame, and then boom, insanity.

peep the insane double drum solos in part 3.






this is some next level isht, i wonder if rap could ever sample this.

I'm A Poet, Like Langston Hughes: Word is Bond Book Club

Plowing through a Langston Hughes collection, here are two choice gems:
Request:
Gimme 425.00
and the change.
I'm going
where the morning
and the evening
won't bother me.

Motto:
I play it cool
And dig all jive. That's the reason
I stay alive.

My motto,
As I live and learn,
is:
Dig and Be Dug
In Return.

Beautiful Vintage Vinyl Album Covers: Dr. Hook and Smokey Robinson and Brigitte Nielsen and Barry White

Got a record player for Christmas, going to enjoy the hunt for 99-cent vinyl where mucho gems can be had, because even when the tuneskies are so-so the art always makes it worthwhile. Here are two I came across in the amazing Amoeba record store in the Haight in 'Frisco last month. Kicking myself for not copping them.

Imagine having this, vinyl-sized, and being able to resist kissing it. Impossible, no?

Peep those hands/bear paws. And peep his name in awesome 80's font over even more awesome 80's Jersey/Scarface McMansion faux-marble flooring.

 Here are two albums I came across recently while google-image searching for other schtee.

'twould make a most excellent stickball tropy no?

The album title is a sly allusion to the fact that this photo was taken moments after the band finished fucking the same chick followed by them laughing in her face. Do yourself a favor and peep one of their vids, mad dumb awesome beards all over the place.

Happy New Year's 2011 Deryls, Keep Grinding Keep Husting and most of all Stay on Your Fucking Grizzly Bear

 

And still we grind from the bottom just to get to the bottom. 

Hustle hard, Where it Started At.

Metallica Ride the Fucking Lightning

You know you want to. Don't ask for whom The Hogg tolls.

Hustle Hard in 2011

Always Be Closing y'all.

Merry Christmas A'raybody.

Christmas images I made for epltalk.com and clevelandfrowns.com. Merry merry!

Rex and Michelle Ryan: Can I Live?

Gossip Folk, homies don't dance no mo they just dissssss. But if they wanna hate let em hate watch the wins pile up. Shit, as if you don't want to get down with her feets anyways.

Mellow Gold, Choice Gems

Bigguppps to Retrospace, an exhaustive collection of choice gems from the 50s, 60s and 70s, where i foundthe above pics. They've also got a rad tumblr page. A lot to enjoy.

The New York Mets 2011 Season Marketing Slogan: So After the Laughter I Guess Comes the Tearz

The Mets put out a bummer of a survey last week.
Followed by an even sadder commercial. The rap response: After the laughter, comes tearz. The rock response: Sad But True.