Tuesday, July 24, 2007


I hired this dude to write the blog today. love that look.


Bloody baby! Yes, washed up, old pro skateboarder Bill Pepper has given birth to Tyler Dean Pepper. Congratulations Bill. That's not womb blood, by the way. That's Jake Phelps' blood. Apparently the li'l fella came flying out of Bill's vagina with fists a-flying and went straight down to the Thrasher offices and gave ole Jake another "pepper spray." Like father like son.

And I call all babies "junk" because, let's face it, babies are ugly. They're just different colored lumps of junk. When they start to look like a little person after a couple years some of them are fortunate enough to qualify as "cute." There are exceptions to the rule, of course, and Mike Mihaly's baby is one of them. I want that hair.

Since Tania and I are getting married, the baby question has come up a few times. Friends have asked the question. Tania and I are clear on our baby views. I, for instance, will regularly say under my breath, "fuckyoubaby," to any baby who happens to be near me. While we both agree that having a baby and watching it shoot poop at us would be funny for a couple years, the idea of it turning into a little brat child and then a teenager makes us puke. babies, yeah, maybe. children, no. teenagers, fuck no. we'd rather spend the money for braces on a trip to the caribbean and get fucked up. this is called FORESIGHT. Tania and I wish more people would use it. (Is that Dennis McGrath?)

spot the typo:

"King Maximilian I Joseph of Bavaria spared no expense when his son Ludwig married his beloved Theresa of Saxony-Hildburghausen, and held a massive party for 40,000 guests on October 17, 1810. The climax was an 36,000-feet-horse race in a large meadow outside the town."

Because of the placement of the dashes, we have 36,000 foot tall horses racing each other? It probably would have been better to have written, "The climax was a 36,000-foot-long horse race…" Dashes attach words together. Be careful where you place them. Still, I enjoy the image. "They raced across the Atlantic, their hooves pounding the ocean floor while their noses remained safely above the violent waves…”


Eric Nevada created a number of devices which enabled him to leave the boat and engage a whale face to face.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007


In addition to being one of the greatest whalers in history, Eric Nevada was also a prolific drinker. He could drink for months at a time and never get sick or hungover. Needless to say, he never lost a drinking contest. His intake was astounding. It’s rumored he once challenged the Hoover Dam to a drinking contest…and won. After Eric toured the Bushmill distillery in Ireland, there wasn’t a drop of whiskey left in a single oak cask. It was five years before the world would see a drop of Irish whiskey again.

Big cocks require big flasks. Whalecock skateboards is proud to present an authentic replica of the giant, stainless steel flask Eric used to carry in his back pocket. It holds up to a gallon of your favorite beverage. A mere shot for Eric, but certainly more than enough for you and your friends. It comes embossed with the famous Whalecock W logo, and can be monogrammed as well. $198.00

Monday, July 09, 2007

The Casino in the Whale

In his childhood and despite his Parents’ objections, Eric enjoyed Whaling with the Negroes well into the wee hours of the morning. Their influence can be seen throughout his long and storied career. He was enamored, for instance, with Casino carpets and insisted that no ship under his charge be without a bright, obnoxiously patterned deck from starboard to port, bow to stern. Being fourth mate, I was given the task before our last voyage of riding into town and securing 400 yards of carpet. The samples Eric provided are shewn below.

Eric ended up disliking this one and used it in the brig.

There are drawings in his journals of the hollowed remains of a sperm whale converted into a casino with this pattern on the floor. "The Jonas Casino" was actually begun on indian land in western Massachussets, but the project was abandoned almost as soon as it began. When asked why the construction of the whale casino was never completed, he replied, "Fifteen tables aint enough to shit on."

He once confided in me when he was in a drunken stupor that this pattern reminded him of his boyhood negro friend Shem. His eyes welled with tears.

Eric said he was fond of this pattern because it made him mad. A condition conducive to whaling. He would often take a bottle of tequila and a sample of this carpet and retire to his cabin for hours. When he emerged, it was best to get out of his way. If you were unfortunate enough to be in his path, there was no torture his twisted mind couldn't imagine inflicting upon your person.