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Lonnie's Poop Shoot

Well, seems I missed a week or two somehow. I didn't really notice but my email was ringing off the hook from headquarters demanding my next slice of Pullitizimo. I tried to explain to The Head Pussy In Charge that, "No one cares. I could write a stupid entry once a month or eight times a week and it wouldn't make a difference." He tried to convince me otherwise. I was not convinced.

Today I leave for Australia with the one and only Tony Hawk, maker of Bagel Bites and the 900. I am truly excited. And I felt I needed to get into character by giving homage to his 80s hair cut: the McSqueeb. Oh, how I suffer for comedy's sake! One day I'm sure they'll crucify me on a cross made entirely of rubber chickens. Till then I will plug away with the hard hitting journalistic world of blogging. (I really hate that word.)


Side note: A few weeks ago my mate and Vice UK editor Andy Crapper came to the States to visit me. And that shitty band that Vice is trying to convince the world is the Obama of metal and that they'll save us all. I picked up Andy at the metal band's apartment and the band came out to meet me. I told them I was a big fan. "Really?" they asked. I said, "No, I'm just kidding. Yous guys suck." Then I asked if they were in the apartment practicing. They said, "No, we're in there drinking." I said, "You might want to consider practicing. Yous guys need it."

Last week Vice US editor Jesse Pearson came over with Leatherpants and a few other cameramen to film an Unsolved Mystery-type bit for VBS. The subject? Who really shat on my mother-in-law's carpet? Was it retarded Uncle Lonnie? Or was it, as he claims, the cat?

Knowing that Lonnie isn't much of a talker we hired classically trained Shakespearean actor, Christopher Phillips, to play the role of Lonnie in the reenactment. I think you'll definitely be able to see the resemblance.

It should show up on VBS in the next week or so. Maybe not. We might just bypass the internets and go directly to Cannes with it. I mean, if the world loves a band of musicians that can't play music from Iraq then they're bound to love a shitting retard form New Jersey, right?

I forgot to mention that Friday the good folks at Powerhouse Books, the people that distribute my book, Skinema, were kind enough to allow my friends Zered Bassett and Ron Deily from Red Bull Skateboarding to skate inside their bookstore. It'll appear in an upcoming issue of Skateboarder. So if you haven't already bought Skinema, please do so. (Sorry for the shameless plug but Vice has long stopped promoting my book. Or rather… have they ever really began?)

I must now go to the airport and then on to Australia. If a bird or ice doesn't seize the engine and cause me to crash and die you'll probably be seeing photos of koalas or kangaroos or some shit next week.