OSSIE'S JERK CHICKEN!!

new munch spot, cheaper then bodean's aaaaaaaaaaand..........PIRATE RADIO!
=]
i got the jerk chicken burger, chips and grape soda
hot sauce was on point

DANNY CEREZINI AT SILVER PARK

JJ.AM GIRLS OF THE WEEK #5

since my internet went down the JJ.AM G's.O.T.W
has been slackin and we do appologise greatly , tbh JJ.AM hasnt been on top of its game recently
but heres a few girls that i thought made the grade at least to tide you over until the next proper
G.O.T.W

HAHA T.I COVER

T.I - 'WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT'

50 GETTIN HIS CHAIN JACKED

heard about it so much that i had to have a butchers and it IS quite jokes
the guy behind the camera makes me creaaaaase

Hacking Road Signs

http://www.i-hacked.com/content/view/274/1/


I'm SO on it.

Get some promotion for the mag...

Seen on http://www.hurtyoubad.com/

Eminem...

I know Leon posted 'bout him the other day and it had me listenin to him all over again aswell!

Personally I think he was at his best before he started goin nuts and rapping about his drugs, wife and kid.

Like old '96 shit.





And even when he did start rappin bout drugs, he still smacked it..





Ok, no more Eminem posts, promise.

Touch Grind

Gay name innit?

But it's some siiick game for iPhone, man's bangin out trés and shit, proper live.

£2.99 download.

The only problem is that it's zoomed in only on the board with very little of the surroundings being shown unless you zoom out.

Still it has a free skate mode, how-to videos and a comp mode where you can unlock boards the higher your score is.

BYE BYE ASTORIA

was a bare depressing sight
really hit home when there were no upcoming acts on the front
bare weird
=[
too bad the last ever night at the astoria was a total disgrace to the venue, any and every run of the mill INDIE dickhead act were on the line-up, WHAT THE FUCK WAS FARIS BADWAN DOING WITH A DJ SET AT THE ASTORIA, guess they just needed some ppl who will do anything to save their "careers"

JOHN IGEI

ratings to everyone who remembers STATIC 2
this part was the shiiiiiiit!

SLIM SHADY LP

r
does anyone understand the levels of this album?
toooo deep, when eminem was real, before he started rocking suprise suprise garm and do-rags, so hard to find this album nowadays especially for download and man found it for TWO NUG!!!
bare haps

THIS IS THE TUUUUUUNE!!

"role model"

HMMMMMM

although its bare hype this DOES look quite chillin=]

Terry Kennedys New Shoe

Looks mad homo.

He's still a baddddman though, see below.

Slam City 6'10 game o' skate.

Seems like everyone's on this game of skate thang..

First game was between Olly Todd and Vaughan Baker.

http://www.slamcity.com/skate.html

BAD BRAINS MOVIE!

http://www.myspace.com/badbrainsmovie


One of my favourite bands ever ever ever ever are having a documentary made about them!

Not much info on it at the moment but will keep ya'll updated!

If the Biggie film coming out this year sucks there'll be this to fall back on!

DAAAAAAAYYYYUM

someone wanna tell me where to get this!!!!!??????????

HYPE LACES!

found this on ebay

'100% Authentic new nike sb shoe laces--13 pairs oval 1 pair orange flat. these laces came from hulks, wheat forbes, wheat hi and other various sb dunks -DONT SLEEP!'

$54.99!! - ARE YOU SERIOUS thats not even with postage

when did loose laces become 'hype'?, i wanna see the person who buys this

mans bagging up all my spare laces and hitting a strip junt

=]

French estates...

I watched La Haine the other day, sick film, I highly reccomend you watch it. It's about the riots in Paris.

Anyway, I was on flickr just now and came across this guys photostream full of pics of suburban Parisian housing estates.

Interesting shit right here.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/31090725@N08/sets/72157607880274493/

the postboxes have a cross on them cause nobody lives there.

a tag with the name of the estate "cité rose" + the district "93"

stats of this estate here :
sig.ville.gouv.fr/Territoire/1100370

the stats show it's one of the worst estates in paris ( the income per inhabitants is almost equivalent to "les bosquets" estate). 53% of the inhabitants are under 20 years old..



DAMN.

Fred Durst.

How the fuck has Fred Durst gone from this:




To this:




Come like Phil Mitchell..



Breh got real old, real quick.

things i hate.

1. Hoodie, blazer and jeans combo.



Why in the name of all that is good in the world would you ever want to mix a jacket that's meant to be worn with a suit with fucking jeans and a hoodie?!

Is it some form of subtle rebellion saying fuck you to the suits who employed you during the time you worked at topshop?

Like 'fuck you man, I ain't working over time for you suits, i'm gonna wear a blazer over my shitty abercrombie hoodie and topshop denim to degrade YOUR choice in clothing a little.'?

I don't even know, shit's got me so worked up i'm chattin fraff.

Plus, so many people are rocking this look now, and have been for so long that every time I see someone walking down the road wearing it, I cry blood a little.

Whatcha think?

Louis Vuitton x Stephen Sprouse x Piece Of Shit.

Saw this on t'beast yesterday and am shocked and appalled.

Well, not so much shocked as it was only a matter of time before LV scraped into another scene.

Making skateboards.

To be fair it's in honor of Stephen Sprouse, who developed some shitty 'graf' type print or some shit, that all the high fashion heads though was mad cool and urban.

Fuck it lemme copy 'n' paste what they said...

To celebrate the launch of Louis Vuitton’s Stephen Sprouse collection, Louis Vuitton will be doing several things which includes redecorating New York’s SoHo Louis Vuitton store, releasing a series of limited edition items as well as hosting cocktail parties at their flagship store.

NEW YORK — Like the artist and designer who inspired the new collection, Louis Vuitton is heading downtown for its new Stephen Sprouse collection.

This week, the company’s boutique on SoHo’s Greene Street will be transformed into a Sprouse destination in time for the collection’s arrival.

“SoHo is a special place for the entire launch of the Sprouse collection,” said Daniel Lalonde, Louis Vuitton North America president and chief executive officer. “It’s in the proximity of where Stephen Sprouse hung out, so we are going to give the entire store a Stephen Sprouse feel. It will have a lot of reminders of Stephen Sprouse. We will be giving it a new identity.”

For instance, the company is wrapping the store in vinyl and spray painting neon graffiti all over the facade. The window display will feature a 6-foot neon light installation in Sprouse’s Rose motif. The store’s interior, enhanced with black brick wall facing, will also be sprayed with the neon graffiti.

The collection will launch in its entirety at the SoHo boutique on Thursday. The complete worldwide launch will follow on Feb. 2, though the Rose pieces will be available at Louis Vuitton stores worldwide starting Friday.

For the launch, the luxury goods company is also creating two limited edition pieces, which will only be available at the SoHo location: a Stephen Sprouse graffiti skateboard replete with a hard case monogram skateboard trunk, and a Stephen Sprouse “Roses” T-shirt. The company hopes to sell three graffiti skateboards with trunks for $8,250 each, and 70 T-shirts for $250 each. “I don’t expect them to last very long,” Lalonde said. “By Friday, there probably won’t be any more left.”

Proceeds will benefit Free Arts NYC, which provides underserved children throughout New York City with special arts programs. Vuitton is also making an undisclosed donation to the Sprouse Estate, as well as the Stephen Sprouse Memorial Scholarship Fund at the National Academy for Design here.

Sprouse became known in the Eighties for his graffiti art and fashion designs. In 2001, Vuitton artistic director Marc Jacobs collaborated with Sprouse and created an instant must-have accessories collection with the Monogram Graffiti collection. Sprouse died in 2004, and Vuitton made its first donation to the fund in 2006 when Jacobs created a scarf in Sprouse’s honor, using one of the collaboration’s leopard prints.

Vuitton will honor the late artist with three events this Thursday. The night will kick off with cocktails at the Vuitton boutique on Greene Street, with a simultaneous event at nearby Deitch Projects’ Wooster Street Gallery for the opening of the “Rock on Mars” Sprouse retrospective. Afterwards, Vuitton and Jacobs will host a bash at the Bowery Ballroom, featuring a performance by Sprouse’s friend Debbie Harry, followed by DJ Jus Ske. The venue is expected to have a Sprouse feel, with a special graffiti-and-neon decor.

“It’s something new from Vuitton to start the year off,” Lalonde said of the collection. “The product, design, and expression are uplifting and rejuvenating. That’s the feel we try to provide for the evening and for the collection.”

Like, how many skateboarders have you ever seen rockin LV, EVER?

Excluding all the poser dickheads obviously and maybe a few hood guys from America.

NOONE.

No real skater would ever be able to afford it, probably.

The only good thing I can see coming from it is the proceeds going to some NYC kiddie art fund.

I'm sure if they wanted to honour this guy they could of done it in other ways, I don't even think the guy himself skated so it's not like making a deck is even relevant.

The last thing the skate scene needs now is more fucking fakes it's bad enough as it is, seeing all these 'streetwear kids' walking round with fresh £200 set ups and a pair of Ice Creams who can't even skate repulses me.

At the end of the day selling LV skateboards in a box for $8, 250 is the complete antithesis to what skateboarding's about.

COLD WORLD

this was my introduction to 'COLD WORLD'
old video i know but it's still dope!!!

VICE CITY @ 12BAR

JJ.AM GIRL OF THE WEEK #4

2 bottles of lube for £3.99 in superdrug!!

LESBIAN VAMPIRE KILLERS

PLOT: Their women having been enslaved by the local pack of lesbian vampires thanks to an ancient curse, the remaining menfolk of a rural Welsh town send two hapless young lads out onto the moors as a sacrifice.


It aint even out yet and we already know theres LESBIANS, VAMPIRES AND KILLING in it, its the best investment coz you KNOW that its gonna be good

COME ON!!

What more do you need???, swear down if this goes straight to DVD im gonna kick someone to death with their own feet !!!

THE CAPITOLIST SCALE

click image to enlarge

DARRELL STANTON

Darrell Stanton's section from 'Roll Forever'
STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ!

NECKFACE HAS TO BE ONE OF MY IDOLS!

CRO-MAGS

A hardcore band from New york city. The band, which had a strong cult following , released many records, their first two considered the most influential. They were among the first bands to fuse hardcore punk with trash metal and were associated with the birth of a tougher attitude within the hardcore scene in the late 1980s. They were also one of the first hardcore punk bands associated with the Hare krishna movement.




"the Cro-Mags weren't only New York's most important hardcore band, they were a way of life"



when i see amazing bands like this it makes me kinda sick that bare yours have kinda shat on the whole scene and made it all about style and myspace instead of good values and good times
so what if that brere across the room cant 2-step. Dont get me wrong its not as if i've been into hardcore that long but oh well i love it innit, kinda like skateboarding, ill never stop loving skateboarding til i die but i will lose the love for the scene but thats another entry


peace

VICE CITY HOUSE SHOW

www.myspace.com/vicecityhc

CHAPTER 10

During the promotion of the album Holy Wood (in the shadow of the valley of death) mid 2000, several secret sister websites were launched containing audio from the album with accompanying images. The Love Song.com was one of the first sites to be found and contained a clip of the song ''The Love Song'' with an image of what looked like the cover of the book. On February 14, 2001, Manson posted a message on his official BBS called "They'd Remember 'This As Valentine's Day'". It contained a link which led to an image of Time Magazine dated February 14, 1964; it featured a picture of Marina Oswald on the cover. In the image, a hyperlink on her broach led to Chapter 10 of the book. This was the only extract of the book released.


HOLY WOOD (in the shadow of the valley of death)
CHAPTER 10

It wasn't very difficult for Coma to find Adam's file that week. The casting storage room was like a mausoleum of never-to-bes and never-to-knows. The walls were lined with dusty stacks of half inch reel boxes filed by cut-out Polaroid faces on the bindings and larger b/w headshots on the lids. They were all marked REJECT AND HOLD. Everyone ended up here expecting to make it somewhere more special someday. No one ever did.

Adam has no idea that as he sits in the torn remains of his trailer inappropriately dressed for Celebritarian purposes, Coma White is staring at his photo and listening to the sterile rendition of the song he wrote right here for her. It was only "happy" that her birthday meant that she was finally a legal grey and free from this home. Even though she is incredibly smart, her idealism betrays her into thinking she would actually be allowed to leave here in any other way than a body bag.

Outside her window, klieg lights and a red carpet draw crowds of celebrating birthday mongers and the long legs of paparazzi, climing over one another for a shot of drama. FLASH!

Something shifts now like a cheap film flashback. The sound is reduced to the dubbed down rattle of a projector's plastic speaker. The voices sneak out through tiny holes from the past and Coma is just a little girl crying into the camera's P.O.V. It is the President's Bell and Howard Zoomatic, and although a fine photographic instrument it provides a somewhat grainy resolution. Her tiny, nine-year-old body is drowning in a white gown and an oversized platinum blonde wig as she is dressed like a kiddy-porn Marilyn Monroe. The handle-held cinematography is nauseating at times as the beautiful little girl dances like an adult.

"Sing," a voice off camera coaches her. "Sing for daddy." Her eyes are black waterfalls of mascara and her tiny nose drips down onto her her red smeared lips as she sings. "Happy birthday, Mr. President."

"The gun, baby." He whispers. The camera focus is disturbed and the sound of Mr. White's pants unzipping becomes quite clear, although it's hard to tell now if it's on the projection or in the room this very moment. The sound of her voice struggles to stay in synch with the image.

On the large screen in the President's private library, young Coma fellates the barrel of a shiny chrome revolver, gagging between syllables of Ha-ppy-Bir-day-to... The light from the projection reveals walls of film canisters where books might normally be. The President pinches a cigarette in one hand and his other has disappeared into the expensive cloth of his pants.

Through a crack in the door Mrs. White watches jealousy. Her reddened eyes seem more inclined to violence then self-pity though. This seems to be a scene she has stumbled upon in one form or another for the last time.

She turns away from the library and desperately searches her reflection in the halfway mirror for wrinkles or flaws. The 'mirror' is actually a video monitor in a frame that provides one with a more accurate assessment of one's looks, particularly on TV where it matters most. Mrs. White is no longer the fairest of them all. She grabs the phone sitting on the small stand beneath the TV monitor. "I need Child Safety here now! Do you hear me?"

The voice on the other line responds calmly, "Mrs. White with all do respect, we've been through this several times before. The President has sole authority over Coma and--"

She throws the phone against the wall and and runs to her room. Halfway down the hall she twists her ankle and splinters one of her high heels. This only makes her more determined.

In the Presidential suite there are seperate beds on either side of the rom. On the wall between them hangs a pristine lithograph of the same Family portrait Adam has hanging in his trailer. Mrs. White nervously reaches into her night stand. There is a Bible amidst thousands of pills resting peacefully in thin orange child-proof cylindrical coffins. She considers how sweet it must be to be as a pill, to live in such empty solitude. Sleeping softly, waiting one day to be swallowed and then digested in burning stomach acids eating you away into nothing.

She reaches for the bible instead, after all it is meant to answer any question and to solve any problem. She pulls it open and inside it is merely a hollow case containing a large black revolver. This is not a ritual handgun. This is simply used for killing.

She picks it up with both hands and sits on the edge of her bed crying.

Coma's bandaged arm reaches to rewind the reel of Adam's song once again. ADAM. She reads the name. This makes him real to her. The music is crude but makes her feel not so alone. If there were scientists to provide a logical explanation, they might say it contained the 'golden means' through with the human brain is satisfied, creating a feeling of completeness. To Coma it just sounded like someone who might be able to see this world like she did. It drowns out the "Happy Birthday, Coma!" chants from outside her window.

Her door is suddenly kicked in with half-assed drunken force and the President leans against the frame for support. He leers at Coma incoherently with a birthday cake in one hand. The candles make ugly shadows across his face. Coma tries to hide Adam's box and the music but her nightgown just comes open in the process. "What's that playing? That's not my song..." He loses his frame of thought for a moment staring at her pale exposed belly and thighs. "Are you too big to love daddy, now? You're all grown up my little princesss...let me see."

He stumbles toward her and with his free hand begins to grope her breasts. She resists, for what seems like the first time, and rips open his silk shirt. What she sees beneath is more disgusting than his pathetic molestation. His almost translucent skin is varicose and wrinkled. On his shoulders and chest he wears prosthetic pads that are snapped onto his skin with tiny stainless steel fasteners to augment his youthful, healthy shape. The material his fake muscles are made of looks wet and gelatinous like raw chicken meat. He is too drunk to be embarrassed, so he tears away the rest of his clothes stumbling toward her with some sort of elastic garter that holds his veiny erection upright. The cake with her face painted on it, smears down his leg onto the floor.

"Daddy, loves you. You know that's why we have to do this."

As he reaces for her arm, she pulls away and grabs a six inch tall marble statue of her father from her desk. With all her strength and eighteen years of resentment she smashes his across the forehead with it, breaking the statue and splitting open a large horizontal gash above his brow. He falls, bleeding and covered in cake. The gaping wound seems to frown above his closed eyes. She drops the statue, even though she knows he's still alive.

In the hallway to Coma's bedroom Mrs. White walks slowly and decisively choking back her tears with one manicured hand, carrying the black pistol in the other. When she pokes open the door with the barrel of the gun, she sees her husband sobbing pathetically. He is clutching Coma's torn nightgown and his atrophied torso is covered in his own drying brown blood. The white sheets of her bed have caught fire from the spilled candles and the bed has begun to burn behind him. The bedroom draperies flutter from an open window. Coma is gone.

It's quite obvious to Mrs. White what has happened as she enters the room. She grabs the gun with both shaky hands and points it at her husband.

"Who's going to get it up for you now?" She shrieks, looking at his still hard phallus, pinched off with a strap like a tourniquet. It twitches grotesquely in time with the short burst of blood that pulse from his head wound. "Don't come crawling to me. I married a goddamn star! Look at you now. You're just a shell. I wasted myself on you."

"Go ahead and shoot me," he taunts her, still sobbing. "I want you to. Then where would you be?" His crying is now a disgusted laughter. "You'd be nothing. You're old and worn out. You're ugly and it makes me feel dead just being near you. So do it!"

She is shaking more now and her strand of confidence is snapping. She starts crying weakly and he laughs at her, wiping the blood and tears out of his eyes.

"You're nothing, now you'll be less than nothing. Back to the ghetto for poor trash like you."

She stops the sound coming from her mouth abruptly with this realization. She opens her chapped, red lips into the shape of an 'o' and sticks the barrel in her mouth.

"You'll be worthless in hell too."

She pulls the trigger and fires. Her head explodes onto the perfect white walls. If the President had a frame of reference he would consider her blood splatter to be completely artless even by Jackson Pollack's standards.

Westmoreland and a few other secret service men arrive shortly after the gunfire. He seems more panicked than usual considering he has a neurotic personality to begin with. Valentine has accused him of being a homosexual but likes keeping him in charge because he's easy to push around. Today is no exception. When Valentine arrives seconds later, he shoves Westmoreland out of the way and start ascertaining the situation.

Valentine and Westmoreland ignore the fire and Mrs. White's corpse--the other mindless suits handle that--and they go directly to Coma's desk. Adam's reel is still spinning, although the tape has run out. Valentine notices the face on the box but doesn't bother to fill in his questionably gay counterpart out of sheer disrespect and possible plans for manipulation that could always arise for his own benefit. He stops the tape and puts it back in the box.

"What's the story here?" Westmoreland asks. He's not exactly stupid but not nearly as attentive as Valentine.

"Looks like daddy's little girl is taking this rebellion bullshit a little too far. How the fuck did she get this?" He shoves it in Westmoreland's face. "That's your job--security, you idiot. We don't need people hearing this. We give them one song. One leader. One path--Obey and consume."

Westmoreland looks over at the faceless body and the smoldering bed. "Well, what do we do about her?"

"Simple. Rebellious punk. Listening to some--what is this shit--some teenage music. She gets all fucked up over it." he's exaggeration, almost performing as he says this. "Kills mommy and runs away. Perfect. Classic even."

"I'll find this one." Westmoreland says, grabbing the tape. "Let me keep this for now." Valentine doesn't give it up. "Go do whatever you do."

Valentine walks over to the President and cleans him up like a baby with one of Coma's pink monogrammed towels. "Listen, your rating's always go up during a punk panic. Play the grieving widower. Grief is good, they love grief." He gives the President a pill. "Leave this to me. I'll get you a new daughter, the co-star you deserve."

"A pretty one?" he asks childishly.

The next day Mrs. White's funeral is held on a renovated motion picture lot still equipped with essential sound and lighting effects required for such a tragedy-inspiring media drama. This place is called the Holy Wood Memorial Cemetary and everyone is in attendance. The President wears his best mask of grief--Academy Award winning, in fact. He even adds a drop of glycerin to his eye before his eulogy. The best make-up artists available concealed his gash perfectly but a few more hours in the sun and it will get as the Gaelic say "Kennedy," which means, of course, ugly or wounded head.

Valentine cues, Infanta, the President's new daughter and she gives her best 9 year old salute as Mrs. White's coffin is lowered into an ersatz earth soundstage. After the ceremony, Valentine approaches the President.

Grief, everyone. Despair. Flash.

"We're going to need him to really take care of this little Coma situation." Valentine says matter-of-factly.

"Boniface?"

Valentine nods.

"He's such a fucking zealot. Do we have to resort to that?"

"That's just it. Religion is the best way to make people hate. And hate is what we need." Valentine makes sure no one is looking and grins, patting the President on the back. "Hate sells."

ICELAND SMACK IIIIT!

How ghetto is that, it tells you how to cook the ENTIRE contents at once !!!
must have been made for bunnin
SLAP SOME PEPPER-NAISE ON DAAAAAAAT
=]