Picture Pages, Picture Pages. Time to get your Picture Pages. Time to get your crayons and your pencils! Picture Pages, Picture Pages. Open up your Picture Pages. Time to let… uh. Hmm. Well... how about you just do you and do whatever you wish with the Picture Page that we're gifting you today. Or tomorrow. Maybe even next year should you happen to stumble across this long dead and dormant post via a wormhole through the Claymore minefield of AI that the Google has since become. Where's Princess Di when you need her? C'mon, Lady Di, we're losing the battle for humanity here.
Before we give you the activity page, though, first come the words. "Jesus H. Christ," you say (and blaspheme!), "Always with the fucking words." Fair complaint, but also one that falls on deaf ears. Suck it. Skip ahead for all I care. No one is stopping you aside from your own limited attention span. So, on that coarse and rather rude note, I've often described my body of work (ha!) as coloring book illustration for adults… but for kids. Bad kids? Maybe. But more on that later.
Download, print, and color to your heart's content.
Okay, there's your goddamn page. Stroke and peck your keyboard in the appropriate manner of your OS to download it onto your desktop. Don't know how? Ask the Google! They'll be happy to tell you to pop it in the oven and bake it at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Just don't forget to add rocks! Sorry, I've got an AI chip on my shoulder that John Connor is welcome to come back in time and knock off. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah… Max Murphy's new "Hello Dali!" model that I haven't had the time to pay proper attention to, which is odd, if not unfortunate, because it really is one of my favorites that I've done this year. So colorful! So fun! So many references! It truly has it all. Toot-toot! What's that? Oh, just me honking my own horn. It doesn't happen that often, so please let me have indulge in doing so just this once. Thank you.
Get a load of those racks! Neon goodness straight off the printing tables at Screaming Squeegees.
Last words, I swear. Well, sentences comprised of words, I guess (well, no they are, sentences are comprised of words, there's really no guessing about it at all), but this "Picture Page" came about while trying to come up with an ad for Thrasher this past month. I swear (FUCK!) it feels like there's a new one due every week, but that's only because we push it to the last drop dead minute before the issue is rushed off to the printing press, whereupon Eben Sterling is hitting me up the very next week about our ad for next issue's deadline(s) and it's Groundhog Day all over again. Ahem. So, after I spent a day manipulating the art and going connect-the-dot crazy, I sent it off to Nick for his thoughts. No response. Maybe like three days later when I asked about the ad he was like, "Yeah, no, I don't think that'll resonate with a reader of Thrasher." C'est la vie. Honestly, I figured as much, but what's the sense in throwing away all my hard work when I can just upload my homemade Picture Page to this digital waste basket instead!
Oh. That's right: Bad kids. Almost forgot about that. So, the ad we eventually decided to run in Thrasher's December 2025 issue has to do with being naughty. Something skaters have long been proficient in… just not celebrated so irresponsibly as they once were in the pages of Big Brother magazine in the early '90s. See? I knew I'd find a way to bring it all back to 1992 somehow or another. —Sean Cliver
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1. This isn't a footnote. I mean, yeah, I guess it is, but I didn't specifically call anything out above, so it's... I don't know. Something else. I'm sure there's a word for it. Postscript? Sure, maybe, but that's not important. I just wanted to say that Picture Pages were once a thing on The Captain Kangaroo Show eons ago when I was just a wee lad. But look, I don't have the time or bandwidth to go into the history of all that now, so here, just watch the video. Watch the silly little video.
2. Okay, not a footnote either, P.S.S. if you want, but my last fleeting memory of watching TV as an innocent child in the late '70s was a segment called "Ray's TV Powww" that once aired on The Bozo Show broadcast out of Chicago on WGN-TV. It was this whole "interactive" thing long before interactive had even really become a thing, but you could basically phone in to the show for a chance to play live, where the caller, typically a very young child, could verbally say "POW" over the phone to control a video game featuring a "weapon" firing at a target. As a kid watching this at home, having no control over what the dingbat on the phone was doing, it was absolutely maddening. Especially since getting onto the show was akin to winning the lottery, and when it ended up being some li'l nitwit just mumbling "POW POW POW POW POW" without any target-based logic whatsoever it made you want to flip the breakfast table over and throw your bowl of Fruit Loops at the goddamn TV.