You may know Jeff Tremaine as the big time Hollywood producer, director, and co-creator of the box office-smashing, 800-pound culture-besmirching gorilla known as the Jackass franchise, but I'll always know him as my former roommate who would spend hours holed up in the garage of our rental unit at 164 Manhattan Avenue in Hermosa Beach, CA, circa 1995, painting on gargantuan masonite canvases while listening to the assorted discs of the first Guided By Voices box set—aptly titled Box—the distinct memory of which instantly evokes the Robert Pollard vocals to "Hank's Little Fingers."
Every so often I'll stop and think, "What the fuck, dude. You're doing this all wrong," but that's entirely apropos for me and my mental Thunderdome, where I'll often go toe-to-toe with my own worst enemy: myself. The fact remains, however, that StrangeLove is indeed a very unconventional company and one I tend to treat more like an extension of myself and not some anonymous entity devoid of voice and personality. Not that this should come as any great surprise, I suppose, because it's long been the MO of my "career" ever since the pre-school days of Big Brother skateboard magazine.
This past Friday morning amid the flurry of announcements for Max's and Timmy's pro model debuts, my wife Donna asked if I felt like I was missing out by not being present at their respective events being held over the weekend. "Of course," I said, "but, you know… it just wasn't practical." Because Donna is kick-ass, she responded, "What's not practical? This has been a dream of yours. You should definitely be there." And just like that, 30 minutes later we were all booked up with a flight departing early the next morning for a whirlwind 48-hour celebratory trip back to the Midwest.
Yes. Yes we do. Both Timothy Johnson and Max Murphy now have pro model boards in our lineup—finally. You see, from day one of StrangeLove this has always been my goal, and I couldn't be happier with these two guys for making what may in fact have been a lifelong fantasy a very stoked reality.
Induction. That's a weird word, right? Or maybe only because we're hurtling toward that day known in the US of A as Thanksgiving and all my squeamish half-ass vegan brain can strain to do is associate it with convection ovens and that marvelous three-meat medley known as "turducken." But for today's purposes—even though I'm having a rather difficult time getting that Frankenstein-of-a-holiday-entree out of my head now—induction is defined as "theactionorprocess of inducting someone to a position or organization" with that someone being Jim Fitzpatrick and that organization being the Skateboarding Hall of Fame. Before I give Jim his justly due credit, though, Imma first gonna treat him like Taylor Swift, pull some Kanye-esque shit, and talk about myself. Why? Because I'm a hack fucking journalist who only knows how to write by making it all about me, me, me! So it goes.