StrangeLove
a rabbit's tale: caring consumer
Sean Cliver
It's no secret that we have an upcoming board with a rabbit on it. Unless, of course, you did not purchase our latest sticker pack, in which case you may remain ignorant to the late lepus matter in whole. And that's okay. Ignorance is bliss, as the idioms do blithely say, but if you do wish to join the ranks of the informed please run up your credit card here. Regardless of your level of awareness, though, this tale has nothing whatsoever to do with the bunny lurking in our wings. Hell, it's not even mine to tell. It's Darren Howarth's, a skateboarder originally from the UK who I only recently encountered this year through an odd email exchange that succeeded in dredging up a few memories of my own from the past (the lot of which you can sure as shit bet I'll be all too happy to interject via my patented method of footnote madness).
pop culture tourette's
Sean Cliver
Toward the tail end of my grandfather’s long life, we were all sitting around a table at Applebee’s one Sunday noon for lunch when out of left field he started talking about an event that took place during his service in World War II. This was somewhat jarring and unusual considering I had never once heard him speak about that time period in any great detail throughout the entire 40 odd years of life we’d overlapped on. But here he was now, recounting a particularly traumatic experience from the Pacific Theater as we all waited for our assorted entrees to arrive while sipping on sodas and lemonades.
the todd bratrud 420 extraganza
Sean Cliver
Look, I ain’t gonna front. I haven't a clue about anything that’s going on here this month and I'm not even about to pretend I do. I know, sounds weird coming from a guy who worked on Big Brother skate mag through the hey-daze of The Bong Olympics and Captain Stoney (RIP), but I was the straight-laced nerd of the crew who simply raised an unamused eyebrow at all the weedy puff pieces. Others enjoyed it, though, so who was I to rain on their big pot parade? Not to mention the fact all that stuff was infinitely more popular than the esoteric bullshit I was taking up valuable editorial real estate with, you know, stuff like snack cracker reviews and bi-monthly blow-by-blow recaps of the greatest TV saga ever, Beverly Hills 90210, all of which they were kind enough to let me do, so why not be kind in kind to the kine?
the wheel in the sky
Sean Cliver
I once met a guy who'd worked with David Lynch as a location scout on Mulholland Drive (2001). Naturally, I had questions. Who wouldn't? I mean, I don't know about you—well, I actually don't know anything about you because I don't even know who you are… or maybe I do? Regardless, I'm only using "you" in the generic sense, so don't take it personally. Anyway, David Lynch is easily one of the top five people who left an influential stain on my formative years and contributed greatly to my fascination with the disturbing underbelly of that which passes for happy, shiny, everyday normal life in America. But, to be honest, this is all neither here nor there in getting to the point I'm carelessly working toward.
the mallrats movie we deserved
Sean Cliver
I know shopping malls are still a thing, I mean, I think they are, but in the '80s these malls were the thing. They stormed into every city across the United States, leaving a huge urban footprint wherever they landed while simultaneously destroying the beloved Main Streets of America—you know, the place where all the quaint mom 'n' pop shops used to be before Captain Commercialism came to town and sucked everyone and everything into gargantuan indoor spaces that were considered architectural consumer marvels for the time. The future was so bright! Unless you happened to be George Romero, that is, who clearly saw the apocalyptic writing on the wall for our first world renowned civilization and satirized it ever so well in Dawn of the Dead.