This sort of thing happens all the time!

When Samson and I finally got passed the gates of the zoo, we knew we were home free.

My Weekend With the Sons of Anarchy

I went camping in the San Gabriel mountains this weekend with my in-laws and some outlaws -well, only a handful were real outlaws, the rest were Messengers of Recovery Motorcycle Club. The MoRMC is made up of recovering alcoholics/addicts. My father-in-law is a patch-holding member of the Riverside chapter of the Messengers of Recovery biker club. I had studied the ettiquette and protocol of Outlaw and AMA (non-outlaw) biker clubs and written a research paper on them a few months earlier for my Cultural Anthropology paper. Did you know that they never lock their bikes at a rally because it's an insult. It is like calling the other bikers thieves. Also, you should never touch another man's "cut" (vest with the club's patch, which has had the sleeves cut off). If someone loses their cut, it is a big disgrace. Worse than that is to lose your patch or be forced to surrender your colors.

Lately I've been following the new FX series Sons of Anarchy, a show about a fictitous California outlaw biker gang which co-stars Beast/Hellboy/City of the Lost Children/Harry & the Henderson's Ron Pearlman.

by the way, did you ever wonder if he might have been Tom Waits fraternal twin, separated at birth? It's a lot more believeable than Sczhwarzenegger and DeVito, but probable a bit less comical.

Many of Riverside MOR members have been in several of the shows, playing bit parts and extras. I heard stories about Pearlman dumping his bike so often that they just cart him on the back of a trailer to film his riding scenes. They hire porn stars for the party scenes, which the Messengers find amusing because, as I noticed, 99% of the women in the clubs are someone's "old lady(wife/longstanding girlfriend must earn old lady status by showing loyalty to their men- old ladies are not to be confused with 'mamas')" and have the complexion of a pair of leather boots with breasts that have surrendered to gravity long ago. Nothing like the plastic party girls with double basketball chests that you see on the show.

One of them said he gets paid just to have his bike placed in a shot, so he usually checks the scripts and shrewdly finds the best position to have his bike parked. They also got to shoot rowdy party scenes in which one of the bikers had to endure shooting 3 versions of being passed out at the bar while the others spilled beer over him and whatever else they dished out. They even get paid to eat lunch. It pays around 17.50/hr. for 8 hours of "work."

Other highlights of the weekend were the view from my tent, which I pitched right on the edge of the river, the sound of the river lulling me to sleep, running live sound for the hired band, and hearing the recovery story Paul McCartney's original drummer, Denny Seiwell. Apparently Seiwell was swindled out of millions of dollars of money owed to him for playing with Macca from the "Ram" album, on up the first few Wing's albums. Paul, as it turned out, had no idea this had occured over the course of more than a decade, and recently righted the financial wrong and restored the relationship with Denny.

I have a ton of shirts to screen for tomorrow's big show at the Glass House. I'll leave you with the view from tent:

Throw Stones

I'm going to be doing my first event selling Spitting Image stuff, Saturday, Sept. 20 at The Glass House in Pomona. Also featured will be Kid Robot (yes!) OBEY (way too trendy), Paul Frank and some others I haven't heard of, but I probably should have. I went to an art gallery in Tribeca last year featuring Souther Salazar (a fav of mine and my sister Amy's) and the adjoining room was Shepard Fairey and all his OBEY stuff that has once again become popular.

Here are some pictures of the Souther Salazar exhibit I attended, many of which I took, the others are from his site:

Speaking of exhbits, I need to write up a blog about fellow etsian, Timber, who I chanced to meet here in california at a silkscreen shop. He recognized the mustache man shirt I was wearing and asked where I got it. I told him I made it and he revealed that he was Timberps, which is crazy cuz I've been wanting one of his shirts for a long time. I'll post that one later.

Speaking once again about art exhibits, come on down to the Glass House Sat. Sept. 20
"Bring the litle pardners, hell, we got plenty of snakes and lizards for them to play with. Say it once, say it twice, third times a charm - and remember: I'll eat anything you want me to eat, I'll swallow anything you want me to swallow. Come on down, I'll chew on a dog. Arooooooooo!"
this is for Amy:

Pop Cannibalism 2

I really should be sleeping but instead I'm going to grab some extra credit for my Mass Media course and blog a bit about another blog I"m currently reading, QuizLaw.

I'll start out by telling you that I have always hated the show American Idol until last season when a rocker with some taste won out against the usual Britney/Whitney-wannabes. I got hooked on the vile show the first time I heard David Cook bust out the Chris Cornell version of Jacko's hit, Billie Jean. We TIVO'd it and watched it as a family each week.

The season ended with an exciting victory for the Cook the underdog, but as the show concluded, it left me with a sense of loss. I've felt that same sense of loss after watching something like 8 straight hours of MTV's the State. My friends and I mused that we felt like we should call Michael Ian Black or Michael Showalter and see how they've been since we last saw them. The edges of tv and reality blurred and I missed my tv friends. sick.

Well thankfully we've got reruns, but better still is this season of American Presidential Elections. Like American Idol, I never really cared for the "show" or the irritating people involved. Then we got our David Cook: Barak Obama. According to the blog Quizlaw, we even have Sanjaya:

Sarah Palin is the next Paris Hilton.
Not that I’m trying to minimize her speech. But, I lump her into the Sanjaya Malakar phenomenon. Two seasons ago, Sanjaya Malakar — an incredibly untalented singer — managed to remain on “American Idol” long past the point his talent warranted. But each week, Simon Cowell — like the media with Sarah Palin — attacked Sanjaya with brutal honesty. The audience at home, recognizing that Sanjaya kind of sucked, voted for him all the same, partly because they felt sorry for him and partly because they wanted to see the train wreck continue. Ultimately, the “AI” voters came to their senses and voted Sanjaya off, as I assume the American public will also do when it comes to Palin.

I personally am less interested in the candidates and there policies, and more or less swept away by their techniques. Picking a naughty-secretary looking female running mate - outstanding! Piggybacking off of Hilary's achievements dspite having diametrically opposing political views... so cool! But having a lectern with a mock presidential seal...niiiice. Telling voters that electing McCain would be the same as giving Bush a third term, oh yes! The Demo-vention was almost as cool as the last Radiohead concert I went to. Have you seen how swiftly (and often, come to think of it) Obama gets water bottles to his fainting audience members?! Stunning. Soon he'll be doling out fish and bread to the masses. But how will the contestants handle Mariah Carey week? can McCain and Palin rock the House of Representatives with their playful rendition of Carey's "We Belong Together," or will Barack slay the Electoral Cowell-ege with his take on "All I Want for Christmas is You?" I just can't help but get sucked into the whole poplularity contest. Its an exciting election season, maybe I should TIVO it.

Oh, and coming back to Paris Hilton, here's a spot she did in response to McCain's Barack/Paris comparison ad that she shot for Will Ferrell/Andy Mckay's Comedy site, FunnyOrDie. I almost have a shred of newfound respect for her, but it turned out to be gas.

If you live under a rock, check out Landlord and Drunk History while you're at it

one last thing: Last week at campus I was coaxed to register to vote in California by two old black dudes at a folding table. They hastily led me through the forms and then asked me to fill in the circle next to the political party I wished to affiliate myself with. They made sure to let me know they only got paid if I filled in the Republican circle, and assured me I could change my affiliation later on but I would have to vote along party lines if for everything but president.

After all was said and done they handed me another form representing the Republican party. It was a statment that I had to sign stating that I was in no way coerced or influenced to affiliate with the Republican party. *sigh*