You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2009.

So here I was, about to take a few swiggers and compute something snark about Pharell removing his tattoos with a big laser, when I thought to myself…actually it was a no brainer, “take the shots kwan, quit writing about dudes that only females(i would never call you a bitch) and guys in tight nut jeans obsess over, totally take a bite off Wolf Blitzers steez, and report the news of our times.

Famed painter, Ernie Barnes died today but is survived by a distinguished array of work that always resembled life to fullest. For me, before Picasso, Monet, etc. etc. there was Good Times and:



ernie 1984











house jawn

Lemonade was a popular drink and it still is…its hot damn.

I don’t own an iPod so I have no choice but to get lost in the emphatic marketing noise of Downtown. Which is probably why I still don’t own an iPod…Like fuck shit, when you have a city that affords you lines of vision into exposed, spring-time behind, 09 throw ups(HOTHEAD still getting up!), and ads that may or may not compel me to buy, but always to think…spoken in binary code from a dork that loves ads, tho. Anyways I’m digging these right now for various reasons that I don’t feel like getting in too deep, even though this is a blog, fuck shit:


UBIQ, the Philly retailer made a shoe drop that I don’t really care about into something I consider a big deal now, sort of. ‘Fishsticks In Your Mouth’, get it?

tommy jones boss coffee

Tommy Jones in the Japanese ad campaign for Boss Coffee is refreshing.


The Philly-based mag McJawn taken it back to the days of declaring young love with chalk and the sidewalk.

Speaking of young love…the bartender at the bar/pop up gallery today looked like the St. Vincent chick with bad posture:

Injecting poverty-stricken communities with a poor imitation of cocaine, as if they already don’t deserve better, and rocking a wardrobe full of BAPE clothing outside of Tokyo, the Suburbs, and hip parts of Australia, is not okay by any standards of saneness. But as reality insists, there is always an exception to the rule, and The Clipse are that exception.

Honest, I’ve never adopted the word “swag” in my bravado displaying talk, because its clearly super wack as well as ironically wack and I shoot for semi wack like Revenge of the Nerds, Digable Planets vernacular, and Andy Warhol. So consider this a stark veer off how I usually put things: The Clipse’s swag is ridiculous, are the best rappers in the game right now, and fuck you Flo Rida…actually that last part is all me.

So I’m absolutely hyped the Internets and peoples seem to finally get how dope The Clipse are, even if their current shine is Ab-Liva-less and likely on the account of Kanye and the all-world graffiti artist Kaws.


On thoughts of Kanye, I don’t think he deserves another plus or minus opinion about him until 2012-when the world ends. The artist Kaws on the other hand, well, people talk bukoo shit about him and I guess I can see why, especially when his work ends up in the hands of crummy kids like this(unless this kid is stoned in this shot and well, that would put him way ahead of his kind):


But being the super nice guy that I am, I can’t help but judge people on their full body of work and getting up broad daylight is brilliant, hard-body, and KAWS is ultimately the shit for it:

Oscar aka Oscars aka Little baby Jesus

a ok

a ok 2


A bb to the eyeball will not kill you but Oscar will…peace.

You’ve worked so hard all year, you deserve a day to lose your mind and relax in a stone cold groove. Really, if you haven’t already, let the Internets go after reading this and scurry on down to your local dealer…drop at least 5 on it and throw your hands up in victory—because you will then have made your personal contribution to the most culturally sound holiday other than Christopher Columbus Day. Put down the peace pipe, friend, I was thinking: beats, rhymes, life, and vinyl preservation.

national record_store_day

National Record Store Day, has gone and passed but that still doesn’t leave you without a reason to say fuck CDs, Serato, and Rex Manning from Empire Records.

My Record Store Day went rad(tipping point, when I found a record store with serious stacks of punk and jazz only a few blocks away from my new spot)

Long In The Tooth

Philadelphia Record Exchange

Dumpster Dive, atl, i miss a ton.

Dumpster Dive, atl, i miss a ton.



love that instr.

boo cops at checkers, n.philly

Support your local indie record store, especially if they’re pushing dope sounds like:

DC is a medium-sized yawn and mad uniformed(not cool like communism)so I came back to Philly quick to check someones thing out.

I love their stoop view:

south philly night

south philly night1

and their footwork:

south philly night 2


south philly night ?

their spirit/s:

south philly night 4

south philly night 5


south philly night 6

and everything (including the sharpie tat):

south philly night 13

frank, claudia, denise(happy bday woot woot), hardy(there was a hardy boy mystery i tried to solve), malika, becky=good peoples.