puke and rally

puke and rallymegyn kelly was on tv last night

talking to mr donald j trump,

(the billionaire)

and he was fantastic.

he has learned how to show a tad of humility

admit theres a scintilla

of a possibility

that he could have done things differently

at one little moment in the past.

(or at least he’s better at pretending.)

but the lesson that ive learned from him is the practice of puke and rally.

no matter what happens

no matter what he does or says

if he stumbles, he, like taylor swift

shakes it off.

he pukes and then rallies.

he told megyn that if he did it any other way he probably wouldnt be as successful as he has become.

as she said, he’s one step away from being president.

she said it in a weird, fangirl groupie way, and it isn’t true, trump doesnt stand a chance, but i guess in some weird omg annnnything can happen way it’s true.

like how im only 6 numbers away from being a multi millionaire.

and just like how every time i lose at the lottery, i just rip up the ticket and go on with my day,

when trump realizes that he was wrong to say All Mexicans are here to rob and rape and steal

or how he encouraged people at his rally to be violent to others

he doesn’t obsess over it, like a human would.

he gets it out of his system

and moves on.

i think theres a life lesson in there for all of us.

additionally, no one has to hold trumps hair when he pukes.

so hes got that going for him.

i look backward because looking forward isnt real

fridathe past tells me what i did where i was what went wrong what went right

the future is just a day dream a promise a dream a lie a fantasy a mirage

in the past we were laying by a pool holding hands drinking drinks laughing

and laughing and laughing and then

back in the room we made the world spin around us

french doors opened to the sun as if to say look

look

look all you angels

this is what its all about

and afterwards we stared at the ceiling goofy faces on our smiles

and talked about tomorrow

which was just a daydream a promise a dream a lie a fantasy a mirage

well intentioned but false because the only person who can predict the future

are the worms

at the cemetery

who dont know the exact date

but know dinners coming

so they wait

the year was 1979, i was in 7th grade

trib

they had a deal at my grade school that if you made the honor roll you got to go to a Cubs game.

i did not make the honor roll due to a technicality but my sister did.

the technicality was i didnt give a flying fuck about the honor roll.

until i was out on the sod farm with my friends playing baseball that afternoon and we heard on the radio that we had carried out there that the game was 17-6 heading into the bottom of the 4th inning.

so we grabbed our stuff, got on our bikes and hauled ass to the nearest kids’ house to watch the game.

it was windy that afternoon which is why the game had so much scoring.

the phillies were mighty with the likes of Mike Schmidt and Larry Bowa, two of my favorite non-Cubs. Greg Luzinski might have still been on that team too – WHO CAN REMEMBER THAT FAR BACK I WAS BARELY ALIVE.

the game ended in nailbiter: 23-22. and i wasnt there. the “smart kids” from my school were there. our friends. many of whom couldnta named one Cub if they tried other than Ryne Sandberg

and it taught me right there and then and stuck with me forever that life isnt fair.

the phillies will beat the cubs. the non sports fans will go to one of the coolest games ever. that your sister will get things that rightfully belong to you.

but in the end, life will go on.

last night i drove a kid, a middle schooler, from a big house in the hollywood hills, to a gated mansion behind two gates in the beverly hills hills called beverly crest.

as we drove past the security check point i said, you gotta tell me, why is it that kids dont even play in the streets in gated communities? do you really just want to play video games and listen to music?

he said, all we want to do is play video games.

and i dropped him off in front of a giant wall. as i turned around i saw him speaking into a speaker box. and as i pulled away i saw the giant gates open and he entered to go inside to play with his friend.

if Uber was around in 1979, for sure me and my friends would have ubered to that freaking game.

but life wasnt fair then.

thankfully it is now.

why i will never uber a Rose Bowl event again

uber

it seems like every year i try a few times to take people from Rose Bowl events

and every year it becomes a total waste of my time.

im not sure if it’s the government of Pasadena or the police of Pasadena or Rose Bowl officials

but every time there’s a concert or a game there they act as if it’s the first time anyone has ever been there

which is weird because the 100,000 capacity stadium is 6 years shy of celebrating its 100th birthday.

the stadium is tucked away in a wealthy neighborhood and up aside a mountain range

it’s also very close to two freeways.

rose bowlthat makes it both hard and easy to get to depending on whether officials decide to close or open freeway on ramps.

for some reason the geniuses in control close all but one road going into the rose bowl about an hour before the concert is about to end

and they keep it closed NO MATTER WHAT up to two hours after the event is over.

so let’s say you’re an Uber driver and you get to the show early and you sit in the golf course and you get a passenger and take them home

and then let’s say you want to go back to the venue to pick up someone else: forget about it.

not only are the roads closed going in, but the cops, the rentacops, and the security will treat you like you are a terrible ignorant person up to no good.

meanwhile inside and all around the rose bowl the cell reception is horrible because no one has ever thought about putting a cell phone repeater in there. or whatever it’s called. so guess what? everyones phones are dying and you cant tell them “walk two miles to the Jack in the Box where hundreds of people in their sexiest Beyonce outfits are stranded, waiting for ANYONE to drive them home.”

the whole thing is a extremely fixable disaster. and here’s how they can fix it.

there are temporary barriers surrounding the location with guards letting residents in.

let Uber / Lyft and limos through too. we are not trying to rob anyone. we are just trying to get to the Rose Bowl and pick people up.

it really is that simple.

did i almost die yesterday? probs

IMG_2249

did it feel like it?

nope.

it didnt even feel like a two hour ride.

the weirdest thing is we drove 21 miles. made several stops.

and all i got out of it, other than the incredible conversation with the

gang member drug dealer and his bff sorta girlfriend

was $79 and a far better understanding of south central

and which liquor stores i should go into and not go into

and where in koreatown i should

just completely avoid

because death awaits

my negro.

have i told you about all the great things that have happened because of this blog?

britneyive been doing this gangsta shit since 2001 and in that time this blog has gotten me jobs and travel and friends and fancy cars and pretty much everything a man could ever want.

but today, a little bird reminds me, is the tenth anniversary of when a beautiful young lady, aged 21 i think, flew across the country to meet me.

and when she arrived i picked her up at the airport and drove her to my house and she put her suitcase on the floor and we looked at each other

and i said, well. and she said, yep.

and i said you flew all the way here to meet me?

and she said yep.

and i said here i am.

and she said and here i am.

so i slowly took off my cowboy shirt and hat and she took off hers.

and we stood there, hatless looking at each other as my christmas lights twinkled and i said, so you’ll do whatever i want right now?

and she said yep.

so i said twirl around a little so i can see if youre carrying a weapon.

and she said you are way better than i expected.

and i discovered that she was not carrying any weapons

and that was just the first of many discoveries that we had that weekend and it was, ive gotta say, one of the top ten things that have happened to me that wouldnta happened if i hadnta written a blog way back in 2001

which is one of the reasons i try to convince everyone out there in the world to write write write write or draw draw draw or whatever you do

do it.

because it just might ring true to someone else. and they might be tall and tanned and way prettier in real life

than on flickr.

i wanna do cool things, all the time

bridgedont you?

i wanna try and experiment and work

and create and push limits and inspire

and figure shit out and rock rock

till we all die.

i had lunch with a pretty girl the other day who said she started working for this place a few months ago and

she’s pretty fancy so they promised her all these things if she worked there

but then her boss’s boss took off and was replaced by this new boss

and that boss would say that she was super punk rock and experimental

but it turned out she was just the opposite

more like a country line dance.

everything had to be exactly the same as it was before and everyone had to do it

and this boss was super awkward to talk with even thought she said

you know karen i have an open door policy

which shoulda been a red flag right away because thats like if you have a girlfriend

and she says, you know tony, i would never cheat on you

with two guys behind a 7-11

on a sunday night

when you are at home reading the bible

even if we just had a fight and id always dreamt of

doing it in the back seat

of an El Camino on an unusually warm spring night

in the valley.

today is mary’s birthday, she’s 24

mary hugging bearas you well know by now she was my first girlfriend when we were in high school in illinois

i havent heard from her since she sen me a little toy truck several years ago

and we havent seen each other since there were fires in san dieger, where she has been living since forever.

when we were kids we would write each other every day using stationary and colored pens and i would draw things and she would say the sweetest things and i would say them right back.

every day the biggest thrill in the world was going to the mail box and getting one of her letters. it was like getting a message from Heaven itself.

maybe im still writing her with this blog.

maybe i moved to california the day i could just to get her back

maybe i never moved out of california so we would maybe one day run into each other and say oh hey

would she even recognize me?

maybe i wear a cubs hat every day so she would

maybe ive never gotten married or had kids or gone to jail so the door would remain open and we could finish what we started in schaumburg and hayward

which was making out in the back seat of my cadillac right before the cops broke it up because why would a beautiful, tall blonde girl want with a skinny dude with an afro?

maybe life is figuring out the answer to that.

what if she moved away to hawaii long ago and im just a dog going to a bowl thats been empty for ever

and right next door is a damn dog food factory but hes just sniffing that empty bowl

that used to be filled with pork chops

and apple sauce.

hawaii it is

interview with Drew Martin

drew in front of a painting he created

Of the Murderers Row at the Daily Nexus in the late ’80s, early ’90s, our secret weapon was the Art Desk.

Led by your boy Todd Francis, no fewer than a dozen artists could be seen in the award winning college newspaper’s pages during any given week. Any one of them would have been stars on their own on any other paper, but at the Nexus they were just another great reason to smile.

color blind boyDrew Martin was tall, quiet, sensitive, insightful, with a spirituality of an Indian shaman mixed with the cool disposition of a 747 pilot.

While his peers donned thrift store chic and mismatched socks, Drew was impeccably dapper: fitted ironed shirts and all around GQ style.

He was clearly a cop. But his cartoons were out of this world.

The one I remember most was a series about a tall skinny young man who had many questions for the universe.

Obviously autobiographical, but not at all narcissistic, in one episode the hero strips down nude and climbs the Career Resource Building on campus at night and stares into the stars and eventually falls asleep, fragile, innocent, and open to answers.

I believe some watercolors were involved, lots of lines, and some backwards lettering. Not at all the type of juvenile frat boy nonsense you’d see in college papers around the country, this was deep, inspiring heavy shit.

And like I said before, it was just one of the long line of illustrative genius within the pages that many took for granted from the Nexus because it came at you every damn day. Each day beefier than the next. Each page more fascinating. Each week a cacophony of creativity.

Because Drew was sent from another planet to keep an eye on our friends, he accepted Matt Welch and Ben Sullivan’s invitation to join English language newspaper in Prague they’d started after we were all done at UCSB, Prognosis. Beers were fifty cents and rent was $50 and instead of being another forgotten intern at a dumb dusty daily, these revolutionaries got to continue to blaze new journalistic paths on their own terms with the spirit of the world’s greatest college rag as their compass.

While many of the staff dressed and looked like this:

layne and whalen

Drew looked like this:

drew martin in prague
photos by Karen Broome

I only remember working personally with Drew one time at the Daily Nexus. (A nod to the saying about Woodstock: if you remember it, you weren’t there)

I was putting together Friday Magazine which had always been a comedy publication but because I didn’t think I could pull off 8 pages of yucks, I turned it into a druggie thing called Fryday Magazine in hopes of quickly being relieved of my duties. What i really wanted was to run the Arts section.

So the plan was to fill every page with different ways to do drugs on campus and in neighboring Isla Vista. And who better to exploit than our huge stable of artists. Instead of page numbers I had the talented Moish draw a variety of mushrooms. So on page two there would be two mushrooms, page three would have three… On the cover was a drawing of a student reading the issue they were holding in their hand while his mind was exploding with all sorts of psychedelia and clip art. Inside there was a map with tips on where to do what and where not to do the other.

Of course I wanted Drew to contribute and I’m not sure if he did or not but I do remember one moment of clarity. After I explained the theme, Drew said a friend of his was going to try LSD for the first time and he asked if I had any advice. That question inspired me to ask a different artist to create some art that we would put in squares on the paper and deem “do it yourself blotter: just add acid” so the readers could literally get high off their school’s newspaper.

I looked Drew right in the eye and very slowly said, “before you takes any hallucinogens, clean yr  room.”

Yesterday, a million years after we ruled the world beneath Storke Tower, Drew asked for and received an interview with me and I was very honored to participate. You can read it here on his long running blog The Museum of Peripheral Art.