Drawn!, Family Fun and Pirate Cakes and Your Mother F*ckin' Roots
My daily pimp goes out to the guys over at Drawn!. Ever since they linked to the DCC’s very own Deborah Orgel I’ve been checking them out routinely and these guys find some of the most talented cartoonist in the game today and spotlight them. A truly excellent site from extremely dedicated individuals.
This makes me chuckle, as of March 15th, 2005, I’m the number two destination for “family fun and pirate cake” on MSN. So if you’re looking for family fun and pirates cakes, check out my site. You can also get great information on hookers, drugs and gang fights.
This is one of my favorite stories. Not the best, not the funniest, not the deepest, but one of my personal favorites.
We all went to PS 58 for elementary school, situated nicely in the middle of Carroll Gardens, a 95% Italian neighborhood at the time. A lot of the kids in the neighborhood were punks, claiming that their fathers where in the mafia and resorting to a mentality reminiscent of Hollywood stereotypical mafiosa children – they really didn’t give a shit about much of anything.
There was one family in our neighborhood that was just synonymous with trouble – the Russos. I sort of learned that Russo families where always bad news, not just in my neighborhood. There’s just something about that name, but most kids I talked to that were in Italian neighborhoods had a Russo family causing trouble. So, take that for what it is.
Anyway, elementary school was my skating days and this was before everyone was skating. This was when skating was what “freaks” did and there was nothing cool about it unless you yourself were a skater. This was when our only pop-culture representations where "Gleaming the Cube" and “Skate or Die”, Tony Hawk was some punk kid (with a cameo in "Gleaming the Cube", I might add), and Jason Lee was skating on the banks and not staring in Kevin Smith movies. It was underground.
The Russos didn’t like us skaters and they gave us shit on a daily basis until one of us realized that a skate-truck planted to the back of the head can down a gumba in one shot (but that’s another story). One day we were walking down Court Street, skateboards in hand, when a pack of Russos started yelling over to us, calling us pussies. We just sort of ignore them, not in the mood to get chased on this particular day, and continue to our destination.
That is, until Max (the super genius) yells out one of the best comebacks I’ve ever heard:
“If we’re a bunch of pussies, why don’t you dicks come over here and fuck us!”
Homosexual connotations aside, that was so dope in retrospect.
In retrospect.
In real-time, my friends and the Russos just sort of paused, having no idea what to do and how to respond. This never really happened before. We turn around, to see what Max’s reaction was and he’s fucking gone. He booked it so fast. Naturally we all start running and the Russos come after us as well.
This was your classic through the alley chase, dodging obstacles, hopping fences, cutting through private property. At one point our friend Ross got his pant leg caught on the top of a fence, dropped his board. We kept running, he was on his own. Ross ended up leaving his board behind and that was enough of an offering to get the Russos to stop chasing us.
None of us got caught that day but we lost a skateboard, Ross complained for weeks after that. Losing skateboards really fucking sucks so I think that’s why we started experimenting with using them as weapons. I don’t know, I see these kids skating now and I get so pissed. They don’t know their roots. Skate parks, significant pop-culture representation, the fucking X-Games. We had to avoid the cops, crazy-ass Italians and make ramps out of discarded pieces of plywood and rusty nails.
We paved the way, bitches. Mother fucking roots. Until a Russo steals your skateboard you’re nothing but a Linkin' Park listening poser. Go put on your Vans and get all angst, pussy.
Just be careful that a couple of dicks don’t come over and fuck you.
read a book, fanboy: The Godfather
This makes me chuckle, as of March 15th, 2005, I’m the number two destination for “family fun and pirate cake” on MSN. So if you’re looking for family fun and pirates cakes, check out my site. You can also get great information on hookers, drugs and gang fights.
This is one of my favorite stories. Not the best, not the funniest, not the deepest, but one of my personal favorites.
We all went to PS 58 for elementary school, situated nicely in the middle of Carroll Gardens, a 95% Italian neighborhood at the time. A lot of the kids in the neighborhood were punks, claiming that their fathers where in the mafia and resorting to a mentality reminiscent of Hollywood stereotypical mafiosa children – they really didn’t give a shit about much of anything.
There was one family in our neighborhood that was just synonymous with trouble – the Russos. I sort of learned that Russo families where always bad news, not just in my neighborhood. There’s just something about that name, but most kids I talked to that were in Italian neighborhoods had a Russo family causing trouble. So, take that for what it is.
Anyway, elementary school was my skating days and this was before everyone was skating. This was when skating was what “freaks” did and there was nothing cool about it unless you yourself were a skater. This was when our only pop-culture representations where "Gleaming the Cube" and “Skate or Die”, Tony Hawk was some punk kid (with a cameo in "Gleaming the Cube", I might add), and Jason Lee was skating on the banks and not staring in Kevin Smith movies. It was underground.
The Russos didn’t like us skaters and they gave us shit on a daily basis until one of us realized that a skate-truck planted to the back of the head can down a gumba in one shot (but that’s another story). One day we were walking down Court Street, skateboards in hand, when a pack of Russos started yelling over to us, calling us pussies. We just sort of ignore them, not in the mood to get chased on this particular day, and continue to our destination.
That is, until Max (the super genius) yells out one of the best comebacks I’ve ever heard:
“If we’re a bunch of pussies, why don’t you dicks come over here and fuck us!”
Homosexual connotations aside, that was so dope in retrospect.
In retrospect.
In real-time, my friends and the Russos just sort of paused, having no idea what to do and how to respond. This never really happened before. We turn around, to see what Max’s reaction was and he’s fucking gone. He booked it so fast. Naturally we all start running and the Russos come after us as well.
This was your classic through the alley chase, dodging obstacles, hopping fences, cutting through private property. At one point our friend Ross got his pant leg caught on the top of a fence, dropped his board. We kept running, he was on his own. Ross ended up leaving his board behind and that was enough of an offering to get the Russos to stop chasing us.
None of us got caught that day but we lost a skateboard, Ross complained for weeks after that. Losing skateboards really fucking sucks so I think that’s why we started experimenting with using them as weapons. I don’t know, I see these kids skating now and I get so pissed. They don’t know their roots. Skate parks, significant pop-culture representation, the fucking X-Games. We had to avoid the cops, crazy-ass Italians and make ramps out of discarded pieces of plywood and rusty nails.
We paved the way, bitches. Mother fucking roots. Until a Russo steals your skateboard you’re nothing but a Linkin' Park listening poser. Go put on your Vans and get all angst, pussy.
Just be careful that a couple of dicks don’t come over and fuck you.
read a book, fanboy: The Godfather
posted by Jason at
12:47 AM
10 Comments:
Damn. Didn't think it was possible for skaters to keep it real. But, it looks like you guys were in fact the young keepers of realness within the skateboard community.
Yo, just bought a house and got a new job. Feeling like a Rockefeller this morning.
First of all, congrats on new job and new house.
Second, we didn't really "keep it real", per se, I think it was just that the level of thug was a bit higher than the current Abercrombie wearing Ludacris listening thug. Compared to that brand of thug, current skaters are almost the dominant species.
So I guess kids just learn to adapt to fit their situation. We were still bottom of the food chain but we weren't affraid to crack someone with a board.
But also, that was in elementary school, all Italian. That defense didn't work as well in Junior High School.
The distinctions are funny, I always got a kick out of the difference between elementary school and junior high school or school friends (the smart/skater crowd) and neighborhood friends (the thug apprentices).
Anyway, I'm writing a second fucking story now, let me get back to work (little behind today).
I see your "congrats" and raise you one observation...
I noticed in that DCC pic from your previous post that the guy next to you (the only black guy)... well, correct me if I'm wrong, but is that a JanSport bag between his legs?
While you've admitted that you and your skate crew didn't really keep it real as youngsters, I sincerely hope there was enough realness in the adult Jason Rodriguez to jack that dude's JanSport strings.
I’m sure I’ve droned on about this kind of thing before, so I’ll keep it pretty short, but I too remember when skating was an “outsider” thing to do. I remember getting together with friends trying to ollie, and since we didn’t know anyone that could teach us, it was an uphill battle. Everybody except my brother and a couple of other people quit after a while and either dropped out of the whole scene or took up music, but it was good times.
It’s the same with punk rock. Every time I see some New-Found-Glory-shirt-wearing gel-haired so-called “punk” rich boy that doesn’t know the roots of the movement, or that there even was/is such a “movement,” I just gotta shake my head. I’m doing a lot of head-shaking these days, too, for sure. I think maybe living in Jersey has a lot to do with it.
CF
Jorge -
Keep observation. I must say, however, new Jansport no longer have strings. They have tags. You need to get an old school jansport to jack the strings.
But, either way I forgot to check. (My Jansport has strings, I bought it on EBAY just so I can get one with strings).
Chris -
At the same time, you always have to allow for newcomers. You don't have to necessarily appreciate the roots to enjoy the scene but if you were there for the roots you have every right to hate everyone else. But at the same time, people who take the watered down version of the lifestyle are deplorable period.
Funny stuff. Thre random postings and three people (including me) talking about people jacking jansport strings:
http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&lr=&rls=GGLD%2CGGLD%3A2004-33%2CGGLD%3Aen&q=%22jansport+strings%22
Jorge, did Rockaway do the strings thing?
Yeah, I remember being a newcomer myself, and I'd be ecstatic to meet any punk rocker here in Jersey who is "real," newcomer or not. As far as I've seen, though, there are the rich kids that I was talking about before, or the mohawk and boots type that hate everything that doesn't sound like the Casualties. I mean, to me, the Pixies and Elvis Costello are as "punk rock" as The Dwarves or Leftover Crack. That’s how the punk community has always been to me – full of people that share that viewpoint (among others that are along those same lines). Here and now, the "scene" has just been so watered down by MTV and Hot Topic and people that mold their lifestyle to fit that distorted version of what it was we did and what it meant to us. People have a different viewpoint now that completely flushes any kind of honesty and integrity in the movement down the toilet. I don’t find it interesting to talk about hairstyles and where you got your pants. I like the rock’n’roll part, you know? There I go rambling again.
Yeah, I agree I think on all levels. I'm wishy washy like that.
And don't forget to throw Nick Cave into your list of non-traditional punk. That guy's fucking nuts.
Oh, yeah, Rockaway definitely did the string thing. Hell, all of Queens did the string thing. I think those damn JanSport strings wrapped their way around the entire five burroughs, leading to the great String Wars.
Of course, Queens won that battle.
Legend has it that the King of Queens buried his string booty in an old Indian burial ground under Shea Stadium.
Nice. Kids these days collect them Pokeymen, back in our day it was Jansport strings.
I didn't realize Queens housed the Lord of the Strings. We honestly thought it was a legend. Brooklyn folklore has it that someone from Staten Island actually found The One String and sported it, thus killing the string craze and forcing JanSport to change to the tag, since no one wanted to be associated with Staten Island. Even the Wu claim they're from "Shaolin".
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