Summertime Killer

Can't think. No words, though, by my count, these should count for five thousand.

Almonds on Acid

Stare at me, begs the freaky-deaky image.

Your Cover's Blown

A Star in the Kitchen Waiting to Sing

What a world I live in. Blogger now allows me to do all kinds of crazy things with text. I can write BIG or small or in a bunch of new fonts and in all kinds of new colors.

I can center text in the middle.

Or over on the right.

and i can even set the text

to show up in block quote format,

which is always fun.

He Likes Bears

Whoa.

In addition to the lengthy list of interesting links I posted yesterday, I'd like to add the Street Fighter Character FAQ, which details one man's effort to compile the various official storylines Capcom provides for the various characters in the series. A lot of them hardly see the light of day in the United States. Most surprising: big, hairy Russian bear wrestler Zangief is gay.

Well, maybe that's not so surprising.

The Family Business

Animal Midnight

Three things that happened.

One: I got a job at National Geographic Traveler magazine in Washington, D.C.

Two: I dropped my digital arts class. Too much backstory to mention. Three weeks vacation.

Three: The catalog of music that I lost when some asshole broke into my car last winter has finally been replaced. I re-burned those CDs and now once again have a history of all the music I've liked since my senior year of high school. Lowlight: At one point I liked Third Eye Blind. A highlight: The bulk of it holds up rather well.

And on that note, here's a picture.

Note to Self

I must research Gaetano Pesce.

Biker Jerky

I think it's odd that Marlon Brandon would die this week, of all weeks.

Around Independence Day in 1947, a bunch of dudes on motorcycles came this little town. They clashed with Hollister residents about as much as anyone from the real world does. But Life magazine ran with the story. The beefed up the conflict and, some say, staged photographs like this one:

I'm told this photo, which I'm posting without permission, was taken somewhere on the streets of Hollister. I can't tell where it's supposed to be. I've been told it's fake.

This Hollywood producer named Stanley Kramer reads this issue of Life and decides it would make a good movie. Thus, "The Wild One" is born. This legendary 1953 movie about rebel motorcycle thugs is based on stupid, little Hollister. Anyway, a lot of cool stuff came out of this movie, which I was surprised to find only has a 6.9 rating on IMDb. The main moto-thugs are called the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, just like the band. And then there's this awesome exchange between this girl and the main rebel:

— "What are you rebelling against, Johnny?"
— "What have you got?"

Good stuff. But easily, the most remarkable thing about "The Wild One" is that Marlon Brando stars in it. It's fifty-one years old now. It commemorates an event, real or not, that happened fifty-seven years ago. Whether the magazine article and "The Wild One" blew this out of proportion or not, he's basically responsible for this event that draws 100,000 leather-clad sacks of dried meat to Hollister every fourth of July.

But he's dead now, so I guess I got the last laugh.

On a humorous side note, I can walk down Main Street and buy t-shirts that say "Hollister, California" on them but have screaming skulls or eagles or wolves and shit like that. I wonder if I could pass them off as limited edition Hollister Co. stuff.