This is why I love Subarus

Came across this in my sleepless night before I head out to Salt Lake.

New Diplo Remix

New mix. A little different—in a good way.


Monkey Bee (Diplo Mix)

via Hype Machine

Friday: A Day Of Favorite Stuff

Some Favorite Things of Today:

Favorite Song/Album: Madvillainy 2: The Madlib Remixes
Favorite Article of Clothing: Thermal-lined zip hoody (it's getting chilly)
Favorite Hole: Left nostril (righty's been stuffy all day)
Favorite Contraction: Shan't
Favorite Meal: Free Stroganoff (Thanks to Jonathan Smith)
Favorite Beverage: Diet Coke
Favorite Hat: Baltimore Orioles
Favorite Shoes: Nike SB Dunk Mids (kevlar)
Favorite Movie to quote out of context: The Departed
Favorite Blog: Makin' Bacon
Favorite Celebrity on which I have a non-threatening crush: Rosario Dawson
Favorite Podcast: Uhh Yeah Dude.

Cool Video

What I'd Do

I've been chatting with some friends about what I will do when I make my trillions off advertising and screenplay writing. Like, we're talking Oprah, Bill Gates, and Warren Buffet's net worth-s combined. Of course I'd do some really crazy philanthropy—that's a given. But I would do some really absurd stuff.

Just because.

Here's an abbreviated list:

I would turn a Bugatti Veyron into a functioning/competing Monster truck. This truck would also be capable of going at least 180 mph.

I would buy the metric system. And launch it into the outer reaches of our galaxy.

I would buy a pack of those really rare elephants. They will play in my backyard.

To celebrate my astronomical wealth, I will hold a black tie event on top of Mount Everest. Diddy and Jay-Z won't even be on the guest list.

I will buy the rights to every movie sequel in production. If the film is not up to my standards, I will feed all the reels to the Humboldt Squid that lives in my aquarium.

For each one of my friend's birthdays, I will rent out Rodeo Drive and Fairfax Avenue in Los Angeles. All items in every store would be available (complimentary) to the birthday boy/girl for 5 hours.

I will be the primary sponsor of a Super Bowl.

I will construct my lair in the heart of a dormant volcano on Bora Bora.

Holiday guests will be flown on my fleet of F-22 fighter planes. Ground transportation courtesy of my pack of Cheetahs.

Kanye West will be number 2 on my thought-activated microscopic phone.

Nike will send one (1) pair of sneakers to my house per day. Each sneaker will be worn only once then incinerated in my volcano kiln.

That's all I could think of, right now.

Wait Till I Get My Remix Right

Bangin' Drum & Bass version of Can't Tell Me Nothin'. Good turkey-fryin' music. Get it here.

Via: White Folks Get Crunk

I'd Rather Be...

I’d rather be skiing the trees at Brighton.

I’d rather be wakeboarding at Yuba.

I'd rather be on the beach on Maui.

I'd rather be scuba diving with some sea creatures.

I’d rather be biking with my crew at Deer Valley.

I’d rather be eating at Cocina Toscana.

I’d rather be watching a really good documentary.

I’d rather be playing Rock Band.

I’d rather be Driking Diet Coke, lime, and deli ice with Mom.

I’d rather be buying some shoes.

I’d rather be writing an ad.

I’d rather be backpacking in the desert with my dad.

I’d rather be climbing a peak in the Wasatch.

I’d rather be eating a meat pie from Brighton Bakery in Perth.

I’d rather be throwing a football.

There's a lot of stuff I'd rather be doing right now. And it's good. All these things are close to me. And I'm thankful for all of them.

COLD TURKEY

It’s been over a year since I moved away from the Wasatch Mountains. The day I packed up the Subaru and headed off to graduate school was a bittersweet day. Sure, I’d be getting a great education, but it’s not the same out here.

I’m not the same.

No more 20-minute drives to Goldminer’s Daughter. No coincidental sick days when there’s 30 inches of blower. Hell, The closest skiing I know is somewhere in Tennessee.

Yet I still behave as if I still lived in the mountains. I check the Cottonwood Canyon forecast more than I check my local weather. During winter storm warnings, I obsess over Snowbird’s Snowcam, watching the snow accrue in a crawl.

“29 inches in 24 hours,” I say…No seems to care.

And by my own choice, I quit skiing. Cold turkey. I turned my back on an integral part of my life. A part of my life for the past 12 years. I abandoned it at the foot of the Wasatch Mountains 1 year, 1 month, and 30 days ago.

There’s certainly a part of me missing.

But perhaps it was a good thing, leaving skiing behind. I don’t even know what it’s like to drive for 4 hours to get to the hill. I still scoff at driving more than an hour for my turns. Not having damn-good snow at my disposal seems absurd.

Maybe I haven’t learned anything.

I know this though: my year away from the hill has rekindled my obsession for skiing—for the mountains. Next time I’m in the Wasatch, I’ll cherish my hidden tree stashes at Brighton. My gorgeous powder line at Alta. That chute at Snowbird.

Back where I belong.

Smile

Again: a Cannes-winning spot from Saatchi & Saatchi NYC.

Wow

This spot won a 2008 Gold Lion (The creme-dé-la-creme of ad awards) in Cannes.

Who does number 2 work for?

No one wants to be disturbed in the process of #1 or #2.

That's why using public restrooms takes a certain type of bravado. Certainly not everyone's cut out for it.

There's valid reasons for shying away from doing your business in a Shoney's bathroom. First off: the toilet paper's always horrible—more of a light-grade sandpaper. And it's always one ply.

Second: The lack of privacy. For guys, the urinal situation is just kinda weird. Most dudes completely avoid any form of communication: eye contact and talking are forbidden.

The stall situation is not right either. The gaps in either side of the doors do not inspire confidence, and 7 out of 10 times, the locks do not function properly.

The stall is not a place to relax. It is not a tranquil time.

Marauders could spoil the situation at any moment, so one must make haste.

But this danger brings excitement when using public toilets.Getting your business done in high-pressure situations brings a sense of accomplishment.

You're a clutch player.

If you shy away from the public commode, you sulk home. Defeated by the task, you answer nature's call in the comfort of your own surroundings. Two-ply quilted. Reading material. Pleasant lighting. Perhaps music.

By holding it, you've taken a lesser path. You were beaten.

Next time you're out and about, use the public can.

Show that turd who's boss.

It's empowering.

Something Like an Animatronic Feel

...If only Chuck E Cheese had music this rad. It's really someone's job to choreograph a posse of androids to the music. Check their YouTube page.

Someboody has a case of the Mondays

via Cute Overload

Supreme Court Rules Death Penalty Is 'Totally Badass'

More new music. Free Ratatat remix CD. Download it and put it into your ear canals.

Free Reggae

Kya Bamba provided the soundtrack to a ski movie I just watched. To my surprise, and your benefit, their new mixtape is free-ninety-nine.

Oh. This thing has like 48 songs on it. You reggae heads should lively up your Monday with this one. Get it here.

It's that New new album that ain't even come out-chet

Hipster prophetess, MIA, dropped another single. It's some good stuff. Download link after the jump .


Via TheFader

Chris Jordan Photography

Chris Jordan shoots masses of found objects. Check out his site.

via W+K blog

Holla

My boy, Evan Poirier, took a little trip down to Bean Dip HQ a couple days ago to paint up their warehouse

Bean Dip did a timelapse while Evan painted.

Check it out.

Happy Helloween

Nike AF1 x Darbotz from Randy Rais on Vimeo.

Halloween-y

My good friend, Kristjan Morgan, carved this.

He wins.

Right in the eye

As I applied my Crest Ultra Care to my toothbrush last night, one of the bristles recoiled a small particle of paste into my right eye. I don't know if you've been brushing your eyes lately, but it hurts. Bad.

"TRUCKING HEIST," I screamed—or something that rhymes with it, anyway.

But then I started laughing uncontrollably at the situation: Me in a tiny bathroom, blaspheming the Crest in my right eye.

It was the best laugh I had all day.

N-Zed Ad

New Sony Bravia commercial out of New Zealand.

via Kanye Universecity.

Adult Swim dropped another amazing (free) album, African Swim.

Get it or piranhas will attack your ears.

Self Promotion

My school recently asked me to interview a portrait photographer, Gregory Heisler.

Honestly, I'd never heard of the guy (big surprise, I haven't heard of anybody), but Greg is an AMAZING photgrapher. Some consider him better than Annie Leibovitz. Anyways, he's a great guy and a great interview.

Still interested? Check the interview out here.

Cool Kids, Asher Roth Freestyle

Asher, Mikey, and Chuck drop some knowledge when the mic system goes out. I was four feet away from this.

Last Saturday night, I attended the Sk8tique opening party in Little Five Points, ATL. I almost didn't get in, but I name dropped some dudes from my favorite sneaker spot.

So we chilled with the Cool Kids and Asher all night, drank Sk8tique's beverages, kicked some ass in Xbox 360 Skating, and took advantage of the free gift bags (with 59Fiftys).

It was a sick night.

New Nike TV spot

New Nike spot from Wieden+Kennedy in Portland. I need to work for them.

The song in the spot is an instrumental of Blueprint from Jay-Z's Blueprint 2.

This is what happens, Larry.

New Common

You need this in your ears.

New Political Developments

It's funny because it's true

When Kittehs Attack

Via Cute Overload

Back to Work

I've been off for two weeks. I've been climbing mountains, walking in rivers, shooting guns, eating Mexican foods, spending monies, and mooching off my parents. My friends, the desert does wonders for the soul... BUT all that equates to no blogging. And that's cool... that's cool — all good things must come to an end though.

So here I am back in front of the old computer for another 12-week intellectual crucible.

Here's a couple things I've found on MissingToof: A Drum & Bass remix Of Santogold's Unstoppable. And a bunch of other hour-long megamixes featuring a bunch of rad people.

Back to school, back to school,
I hope I don't look like a fool.
I got my shoes, they're tied up tight,
I hope I don't get in a fight....

Safety 1st

I have officially seen everything.

I was checking some e-mail tonight and I saw a little Google ad right above my mailbox. It said: Dog Helmet for biking - Dog Helmet has adjustable strap, 4 sizes and foam lining.

Serendipity. I was horrified to know my champion Weimeraner would have to ride Porcupine Rim totally unprotected... Until now.

I had to go to the site and check this thing out. Here's the product description:

Designed with safety and comfort in mind, "The Helmet" can protect a pet's head from wind, windblown objects and other irritants when riding on a motorcycle, in a car, truck, or boat.

Excellent for blind dogs or any pet that requires protection from minor head trauma when bumping into things. Does your dog have stand-up ears? Not to worry....."The Helmet" was designed so that it does not rest flat on the head. The customizable foam pads that are included fit between the ears, not over them. This prevents "The Helmet" from pushing the ears flat to the head. The dual-adjustable chin strap lets you custom fit "The Helmet" for almost any pet dog or cat.

Available in: "Bone" White, "Wet Nose" Black, and "Panting" Pink.

To insure a proper fit, measure your pet's head-across the forehead, around to the back of the head. If your pet has floppy ears, make sure to include them when measuring. Select a size from the chart below that most closely matches this measurement .

This poses another question. When did dogs start receiving better healthcare than most humans? I personally know two dog owners with cancer-survivor dogs. This would not be the case in my house. If one of my dogs became terminally ill when I was a kid, I know what my dad would say.

"You can get a puppy after this one dies. Cats are still better than dogs though."

And I most certainly know what my grandpa would say.

"You know what would cure that dog cancer? A lead aspirin would do."

I guess the Dog Helmet was not intended for heartless bastards like me.

Get out there

I'm gonna be the not-gay Perez Hilton of outdoor industry bloggers. Watch for my gear and outdoor musings on Remember Delaware Blog.

Also, If you need any gear this season, hit Bubba up at RememberDelaware.com. Not only is he good people, but he sells the best of the best.

Even More Aural Pleasure

Immuzikation is killing it right now. Here's his remix of Jackson 5's ABC.

Download it.


Via Hype Machine.

More Musak

DJ A-Trak (Kanye's DJ) brings this cool, blippy danceable joint.

Download it.


Via Hype Machine

Swagger Like Us

Athens, GA's Immuzikation does it again with Swagger Like Us. You'll probably recognize part of the hook from M.I.A.'s Paper Planes. You'll probably also hear a sick verse from Kanye, T.I., and a whole bunch of other crazy sonic stuff.

Download Song

Via Hype Machine

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Another political post. There's been some scathing, politically charged e-mails on my school's server from right and left wings alike. And everyone's really reactionary about the situation. But let me pose this question: What are people going to complain about when George W. Bush leaves the White House?

What will Jay Leno use in his Monologue every night?
No more funny soundbites.
No more president-looking-goofy videos on the Daily Show. We're heading for a comedic recession.

As far as I know, Obama doesn't have any juicy secrets. Nothing like the Clinton administration, at least. Things should get pretty boring if he's elected.

If George W. Bush did anything besides toppling a dictator and restoring the nation's hope after 9/11, he made us laugh.

Election, Blah, Blah, Blah

SE7EN Puppets

I think I already posted this. But it is so rad, it's worth a second. This one has some cuss words, so cover your ears.

Diplo+Dark Meat= I was there

Dark Meat SUCKS. Imagine a hipster troupe of 12 people all playing their instruments as loud as possible. Then put that troupe in a small room.

Diplo's set was ill. Best DJ set I've ever seen.

Santogold+Justice Mashup

Athens, GA's IMMUZIKATION recently dropped a mashup of Justice's "D.A.N.C.E." and Santogold "Les Artistes". Get it. Click on the link and get it.

Download the song.

Via KanyeUniversecity

Knock it off with the boring blogs

Married-people blogs suck.

I've been lurking on some of my high school classmates' blogs tonight- I would say about 86% of those blogs are about married life. And they suck. The blogs are done by good people with good intentions, but the results are not good.

Each blog delves deep into the minutiae of picking out paint colors for Kayleb's new room, or how the Brooklynn finally learned to like green beans.

You don't believe me? Read one. Or two.

They're all using the same blog template too. It's terrible.

With that in mind, I've listed some tips to un-horrible your blog.
____________________________________________________
1) Remove your playlist. No one wants be bored AND listen to Faith Hill's "Lost" or Rascal Flatts "You." Most people would rather get stabbed than listen to your Russian Roulette of crappy music.

2) No more fetus widgets.They look like sea monkeys.


3) Stop exploiting your kids through your blogs. Some of their actions don't warrant a blog entry.

4) You're stuck in your blog. Relate to something you saw on TV (that doesn't have to do with Rascal Flatts new tour or Faith Hill's new fall look).

5) Knock it off with the artsy names for your kids. Simple is better. And if you do use a name from the bible, don't goof with the spelling. You don't have to manifest your creativity through your kid's name.

6) Lose the scrapbook template.

Champion Spirit

The Olympics is in full force. And the world gathers to watch the finest athletes compete in the world. It's a wonderful show.

But take a step back from the Olympics for a bit. During the course of the games you'll see some of the most obscure sports on the planet. Take the pommel horse for example. There are men and women who devote their entire lives to perfecting their routine. These people are absolutely amazing at what they do. But imagine training for decades to spin around on a glorified work bench.

You'd never get to go outside. Or go to late movies. Your events would be lightly attended. It's a life of obscurity. Muscular obscurity.

I'm going SCUBA diving with Chris Tucker and Aquaman

On the Bike

Epic trails in Sun Valley.

?uesto

People were lined up 4 days to cop these.

Musical Duldrums

I'm bored of my music. To the point where I've literally thrown CDs out my car window. And lately there's hasn't been much to cure my ails.

Well I take that back. Podcasts are my saving grace. Stones Throw, Mad Decent, and This American Life. They're musical manna.

I find I unconsciously listen to the same 25 songs until they're sickening to my Limbic system. The cure: Change it up. I started listening to the radio. Georgia Tech's WREK 91.1 has a great eclectic mix. And that turned me onto blues. And jazz.

The radio, podcasts, and the shuffle gods put the spice back through my headphones.

On a similar music sidenote: That Shwayze song BLOWS. Their approachable faux-hipster rap/melodic stylings are not long for this world. It's 14:58 on their 15 minutes of fame.

In case you missed it

This is the NOS car from yesterday's rally semifinals. This vid has an onboard cam.

If there's a lesson to be learned from this: Always carry enough speed. And wear seatbelts.

Missing the Mountains

I'm on a YouTube binge. Watching all the ski movies and amazing powder days that alluded me last year. Here's one that catches the mood.



Song is Royksopp's "What Else is There."

All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom...

N.E.R.D.'s Everyone Nose video is based on the party photography of Merlin Bronques

Last Night's Party- NSFW.

Lost...

Here's a recent ad campaign I worked on with Travis Robertson and Cedrick Bearss. We entered it in CMYK's student competition.






On a side note, the Biblioteknine is 100 posts young today. Hooty-hooo.

Milo & Otis

Ski time in t-minus 3 months

I think I just peed a little bit.

Burger Rhymes

Look out Weezy; the Swedes are gunnin'.

via Mad Decent.

Change

Here's a weird, sweeping thought I had today. I tried to capture the feeling by the way I wrote the following:

I left the world for two years.

When I boarded a plane bound for the most isolated city on the planet, on August 16, 2001, I didn't know what the world had in store. No one did. The unfathomable coming days, and months.

26 days later, the world changed. A loss of innocence. Gone were the days of leisurely air travel.

Drastic measures were taken. Metal detectors. Meticulous carry-on exams. Belt removal. Shoe removal. Orange alert levels.

Business and economy would change. Enron. Corporate corruption paved the way for the economic equivalent of airport security.

The world vaulted into war.

"A war we shouldn't be fighting," they say. "Bring our kids home."

Terrorism. Fighting terrorism. Rumors of wars.

Nightly news fear-mongering. Body counts. Toxins. New cancers and scourges.

Touchdown on earth June 26, 2003. The sun still shone. The sky still stark blue. Birds still sang. Is there melancholy in their song? Perhaps.

For days gone by.

Weather Report

"Hey, What's it like living in Georgia in the Summer?"


"Blaargh."


"You're funny. I bet it's pretty hot. No...what's it really like?"


"Okay. Imagine living in someone's crotch. Then add 10 degrees. And about 30% humidity."

This girl around the way

I run into the same people a lot. I guess it's because 95% percent of my time is spent within a 6-block radius. When I stray a couple blocks to my apartment complex pool, I see the same characters all the time. This post is dedicated to one of those people.

I call this girl "Southern Tara Reid." This title is very valid- she's pretty hot. Hot enough to turn heads at a pool. The similarities don't stop there though. Southern Tara has an affinity to alcoholic beverages. Every time I see her she's either drinking Natty light, or talking about drinking. From the sounds of it, she could drink a Lumberjack under the table.

There's another similarity. Well, not really. Southern Tara's voice is husky too. Not cute husky, though. Think Gremlin husky. Or Dr. Claw. Or Ma Fratelli. Like there's some pea gravel in her larynx. Whatever you're picturing, it's probably deeper than mine. Her 4-pack-per-day smoking habit probably doesn't help the voice thing.

Anyway, she'd probably be a good person to have your back in a bar fight. I guess my other point is: looks can be deceiving. The hot girl at the pool is, much like Tara Reid, a train wreck.

(I'm sure she's a nice person.)

Musak

Vampire Weekend frolicks out of my earbuds as I type this. The self-titled album struck a chord with me. Track 2 muses about the use of a serial comma (i.e trains, plains[,] and automobiles.)

Anyways this album seems like it was written for Wes Anderson. It has that smart-as-a-whip quirk that is Anderson's calling card. I instantly imagine a scene from Rushmore, as a backdrop to Jason Shwartzman plotting some tomfoolery.

Mark my words, he'll use it in his next film.

This album also smacks of Paul Simon. Both of Simon and Garfunkel vintage, and the stuff with Ladysmith Black Mombazo. Yet it also has a throwback feel--like the Animals.

The album is great. It's a perfect break from your normal playlist.

By the way

Batman was rad. Almost too rad to comprehend.

I had to pee for the last 66% of the movie, which significantly increased the tension of the goings on.

Did you see the goo on Harvey Dent's pillow when he was in Gotham General? Nice touch.

Speaking of Harvey Dent, Aaron Eckhart went to BYU- my alma mater.

In the year 2000

Empty Your Pockets

I mentioned in an earlier post that I've been flying a lot lately. Flying means one thing: security. And stress. I've been thinking about it a lot too.

Airport security is a good thing. It's meant to protect the common good. It's a noble task, protecting our heartland. But it's a little overboard.

Security at La Guardia is a good idea. Security at Boston's Logan is also prudent. But the shoe-removing, laptop opening, fluid bagging brand of security at Bozeman, Montana's airport is unnecessary. It's also very presumptuous.

Podunk airports with the same level of security presume the next Al Qaeda attack is coming through their doors.

"The bastards won't sleep," They say. "They won't rest until we're all reading Korans."

They're causing a lot of arthritic ranchers a lot of hassle.

The same mindset is true with concerts.

Say there's a pat down and metal detectors at a Toby Keith concert. The event staff thinks someone might harm Toby Keith. Or worse yet, they'll harm someone in the crowd.

It's not gonna happen. The nefarious people in this world have better things to do than mess up soccer moms at a country concert.

They have bigger fish to fry.

MGMT Kids

Dear Judd

Dear Mr Apatow:

I recently revisited your film Knocked Up. I can't say how much I enjoyed your movie- even the second time. But I noticed something. Feel free to correct me if I'm way off base.

Your brand of humor is excellent. The formula seems to work: Lovable loser/pothead, stumbles bassackwards into relationship with totally unapproachable girl. Insert penis jokes. Love ensues.

It's fantastic.

Just a few suggestions though. Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Paul Rudd, and the other dudes on the couch need a break from your films. They're very appreciative of the past three years. They all have great houses in North Hollywood or Brentwood. Not bad for some dudes from Canada.

With all due respect, your formula spills over to all facets of life. For example, one of my friends used a line from Knocked Up in church. Church.

Congratulations on infecting the world with your formulaic comedies. Maybe put some other actors on the payroll. And I don't mean a different A-list female co-star.

You make personal-hygiene jokes for a living. Maybe I'm jealous.


Yours Truly,


Adam Hook.

What's going on here?

I was eating at an amazing Japanese restaurant recently. Sansei Hawaii. So we're eating our edamame or whatever and these hot girls walk in. Now when I say hot, I don't mean in a wholesome way. Or even Sports Illustrated Swimsuit way. Or even Maxim. They were at least strippers. Very collagen-y.

So these ladies strut in followed by these- I don't think douchebag is quite strong enough, Dill weeds. Huge Gold watches, Chest hair, Italian loafers. Cells phones-a-blazin'.

They sit down.

"I can't believe how much we drank today. And we all look fabulous. I swear I'm not an alcoholic."

After awhile the dudes go out for a smoke. I took this opportunity to use the facilities too. The dudes took awhile. While they were gone, the girls called the dudes out on the patio.

"Where are you? We totally thought you'd left, or something. Anyway, we're gonna order some sushi."

Now I realize this isn't the most exciting dialogue. It isn’t. Not by a long shot. It’s the dynamic of this group. Why are two gorgeous/sleazy girls breaking bread with two dudes like this? Money? Action? They’re paid accompany guys? Who knows.

It was a total mismatch. I will take a stab at the profession of the guys.

Drug Dealers
Pornographers
Aston Martin salesmen
Persian Rug importers
Owners of a strip club
Owners of a night club
Jewelers
Miami Realtors

Situations like this fascinate me.

You're now free to move about the cabin.

I flew a lot in the last little bit- zooming to and fro to see family and friends. Airplanes do funny things to people. I suppose it's the recycled air and the claustrophobia-inducing coach class seating. Here's a few observations from cruising altitude:

When people ride in planes, they instantly love ginger ale and cranberry juice. At no other time to people get thirsty for any of these drinks.

People recline their chairs to get the impression of relaxation. A reclined coach-class seat is the angle of your parent's dining room chairs.

Flight attendants love micromanaging your journey. Your tray table can only be down at certain times. Your backpack must be jammed in the trap where your feet are supposed to fit. You only get 2 ounces of your beverage at a time. Is your approved electronic device switched to off or its flight mode?

Babies and small children love screeching at inopportune moments- air turbulence especially.

Pilots love telling you pilot jargon no one understands. Well, maybe meteorologists. Wind shear, jet streams, wind speed (in nautical miles). They all sound like boat names.

The Champ

What is the greatest hip-hop song of all time? Can it really be decided? East Coast? West Coast? Dirty South? Chi-town? Underground?

People are pretty partial to certain rap songs. Maybe a certain song marks a period in time. For me, rap symbolizes summer. It represents getting excited. I mostly listen to rap when I'm working out or skiing. It's the beat.

The first time I saw a Gin & Juice on MTV, I was mortified. I think I was in 4th grade or something, so I didn't realize its genius at first. But it grew on me. The first real hip hop I ever bought was ATLiens. After that, hip hop took over my music library.

But back to the issue. What's the best hip hop song ever? Some might think it would be an Outkast song. And that would be a fair assessment. I celebrate Outkast's entire catalog. But it's not 'Kast.

I like a lot of Wu-Tang. And I think Triumph is almost a perfect song. But it's not the best.

The best hip hop song ever is Nothin 'But a G Thang. You know what the beat sounds like. The hook is perfect. The chorus is tight. The rhymes are perfect. Dre on the production. Snoop at his best. What more could you ask for?

Way of the Future

Nike Soccer

I'm not even a huge soccer fan, but this gets me amped.

Lego 4 Life

via Kanye Univercity

King of the Grill

Here's some copy I wrote for an Arm & Hammer ad campaign. It's called Essence Of Man. Each ad in the campaign has vignettes about real manliness.:

You are the Baron of Barbecue. The Caesar of Sear. You stand proud, tongs in hand, before your apparatus. In this fiery furnace, you char beasts of land, air, and sea into steaming slabs of heaven. Not a veggie burger in sight. Your feasts begin with your own two mitts, and an eye for the prize. While many men disgrace the art, your sear marks personify geometric perfection. It’s time to flip those chops. Go get ‘em.

The worst day of my life

I was watching Top Chef on Bravo then went to do some homework. Later, I came back to enjoy a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. The remote was unresponsive.

"Change the channels manually," you cry.

Good thinking, and I appreciate your concern, but I have cable. And the remote does all the channel changing. Changing channels on the TV would give me static.

So my TV is stuck on Bravo while the Work Out marathon marches into the night. No playoffs. No Cartoon Network. 'Tis a dark day.

Muto

New look

You know you're in trouble when you blog about blogging. With that in mind, mine has a new look. I incorporated my logo from a couple months ago. The crappy blurb is gone. No one reads that anyway.

Song of the day is probably Liquid Swords, by the Genius, GZA. Protect your neck, it's almost Friday.

Ghostly Swim

Your friends at Adult Swim went and did it again. There's a whole (free) album on the site called Ghostly Swim. It's chuck full of bleepy-blippy electronic music.

iTunes Tricks

I found a great function on iTunes this evening. If you're setting up a party, and your megamix needs that certain professional touch, try this. Go to the options in your iTunes menu (apple+,).



Under the Playback tab, toggle the crossfader Playback tab. You can set up to a 12 second crossfade. Or set it to 0 for standard play.

If you really want to get tricky, find the BPM of the songs on your playlist, then your songs will mix better. Happy Listening.

I tried the crossfader function on my Miami Bass playlist. Superb.

The crossfader settings will not transfer to your iPod.

Nice Marmot

Came across this today on Cute Overload.

This only took about 4 seconds to post... Evan.

Spank Rock

Probably my favorite rapper right now. Some of the best beats in the biz.
Spank Rock - Lindsay Lohan's Revenge

Biking Rules

This dude is awesome. Pretty ballsy move.

Herbert the Pervert

Ode to the funniest, and most disturbing, character on Family Guy.

At the Gym

I joined a fitness club today- L.A. Fitness if you're not into the whole brevity thing.

I've worked out in many gyms throughout the years and I'm never surprised when I go to a new one. There seems to be a certain species of human that thrives at a gym. Like a bizarre petri dish. You've seen em too.

First off there's the out-of-proportion man. He's been wailing on his pecks and traps too much. His lower half looks like a 9-year-old.

There's the lady that could probably kick your ass. More often than not, she's the Cardio Step instructor. You see her bench press every once in awhile, and what ever you put up, double it. That's hers.

There's the hot chick that stretches in front of wherever you're working out. She has a perfectly coordinated spandex deal from Puma or Nike. It looks more like intimate apparel.

There's the Screamers. Every gym has 'em. Loud outbursts and crashing weights are the Srceamer's calling card. They have a mini pose-down every two minutes- between gulps from a gallon of water they're hauling around.

There's the Treadmill girl that's at the gym before you, and she's still trotting away when you leave. She could also be the girl that could kick your ass.

There's spandex man. Usually clad in Under Armour and usually a former captain of the high school wrestling squad. He's usually doing power cleans and scoffs at your pathetic 110 pound cable crossover.

No gym would be complete without the overly friendly sales guy. He's your friend as soon as you show the slightest interest of joining. Between the cryptic schpiel about how he's going to take your money, guy asks you a number of canned questions about how life's going and your fitness goals. He will always call you big guy, champ, buddy, bro and/or chief.

If nothing else, the gym is a people-watching paradise.

Swamp

DJ Swamp spins for Beck. He kills it.

Back in the day

Poetry

Slurpee

July heat broils blacktop, tar
Bubbles and putties our shoes.

Dog days at the pool, hair
bleached duckling blonde.

Long, hot days require refreshment. Quarters ching
for too-sweet slush.

Forgotten in a 32-ounce brain-freeze,
Bikes lay untethered, abandoned.

These are waning moments. Soon
School bells sound

A cranky ring.
No place

For a summer-feral fifth-grader
Who's almost forgotten how to write,

Sharp new pencil in his
Calloused hand.

Good Vibrations

My friend Tim told me to start listening to BBC Radio 1. It is outstanding. If you like music, but you don't like radio, this might cure you. Gilles Peterson and Zane Lowe's shows are unreal. Stream it at work.

Lowe is currently running a series of masterpiece albums. He runs the full album, including the cultural landscape of the time. Right now he's running Radiohead's OK Computer.

Night Rider

The other night, I returned some videos. I normally drive the thing. This night I was feeling kind of saucy, so I rode my bike the entire 300 yards. I returned Kill Bill Volume 2 and Purple Rain (which is really, really good).

Like I said, I was feeling saucy, so I kept riding. South, into the heart of the city. It was about 12:45 a.m. and the roads were free from cars. I rode. Tops of buildings capped in a curious fog. It was perfect. Dodging potholes. Jumping cracks in the pavement. Running red lights.

I wanted that feeling tonight, so I hopped on the bike and rode. South. Downtown. I cranked hard into the city, passing Tap Restaurant. My previous goal. I spun up the mellow undulating hills of downtown Atlanta. I took it in. Cigar smoke. Sour garbage. Crisp night air. Bus exhaust. Eventually I arrived at the marquis of the historic Fox Theater. The blue tint of night cast a ghoulish palor on the building. Time to head back.

The ride north to Buckhead is zippy. Back down those hills. I paced the sickly glow of the fluorescent bus into Buckhead. Given the laborious bus stops, I had the advantage. It was close. But I edged the bus out on the last downhill before my street.

There's something amazing about riding a self-powered vehicle into a domain reserved for metal behemoths. I've ridden bikes all my life. That's not going to change.

RJD2

Sundee Sermon

Isn't it Ironic?

I'm all in favor of saving the environment and stuff. But there are limits to my green efforts. For example, I'd never drive a Prius. Not for the fact they're hybrids, they're just too ugly. They look like Toyota's designers took a day off and Mrs. Smith's 2nd-grade-art class gladly picked up the slack.

For some reason I hold Prius owners to a higher standard than other, normal, drivers. I expect Prius People to be benevolent stewards of our planet. Spending valuable PTO time restoring beaches and saving Harbor seals. This is not the case.

My expectations were shattered today. It was a nice day so most people on the roads rode with windows down. Prius People indulged too. To my surprise, I saw a Beige Prius Person smoking. I laughed. Hard. The irony was too great to pass up a bloggertunity.

Oh the irony. Lady buys an ugly-as-shit car, to cut down on emissions. Lady now pollutes her on micro-environment with her own smoke. Lady now exhales toxic fumes from enviro-safe, shitty car, into the air she was supposedly saving. It gets better.

Here's the kicker ladies and gents. Chick threw her cigarette into the street. She littered. Game. Set. Match.

If you're gonna do your part, do your part. Don't drive a Prius because Al Gore said it was cool in that movie he made. If you Drive a hybrid, don't nullify your efforts with thoughtless acts of ignorance.

Do it because you're trying to make a difference.

two wheels in the 801

5050 Bmx Thats It Cameron Wood
Uploaded by -vRs-

Song Credit. If you care: The Black Lips Hippie, Hippie, Hoorah.

Ah. ok.

The final logo, in full mount position. Nice cowlick there, too. (I don't know why I look angry, I guess it's my concentrating face).

Family Guy

More Photos

Another shot in the bag. The final print will be 12x18"

Synopsis of Me

Two names you go by: Hook, and usually Adam

Two things you’re wearing right now: WeSC denim, Nike Blazers.

Two of your favorite things to do: Ski the trees on powder days with good friends. Ride bikes through aspen singletrack with good friends.

Two people you talked to last night: Cedrick, Tim.

Two things you’re doing tomorrow: Oil change in the car, writing a script for a short movie.

Two longest car rides: Michigan to SLC. SLC to Whistler Canada and about every other city in the Pac Northwest. SLC to ATL would be in there too.

Two favorite holidays: Christmas and Presidents' Day. Joking... it's Thanksgiving.

Two favorite drinks: Diet Coke with lime; and Brazilian Lemonade try it and it'll be on your list.

Two things about me you may not know: Trivia junkie, Scuba diver for 12 years.

Two jobs I have had in my life: Junior Ski Instructor at Brighton Utah for 4 seasons. Best job in the world. Short stint as a sales associate at Zumiez.

Two movies I could watch over and over: Hands down: Big Lebowski and Pulp Fiction.

Two places I’d rather be right now: Skiing powder at Brighton, Chilling in Kihei, Maui.

Ayo Technology (Unplugged and by a white guy)

Not too bad.

XXXXXXXXXtreme!!!!!!!!!!!

"Future is Now."
Don't try this at home. Seriously.
If you ever get a flash of brilliance akin to the XBike, please run it by one of your non-exxxxtreme friends.

Nuevo Laredo

It's not too often that you come across a restaurant that truly exceeds your expectations of what is good. Today it happened. A couple of friends of mine ventured over to Chattahoochee Avenue (hoodrat hoodrat hoochie mama). Our destination: Nuevo Laredo Cantina. I had the pork tacos. They were the real deal. Frijoles. Cabbage. Plenty of salsa. Lime. All the stuff you'd desire in a sublime Mexican lunch. The portions are ginormous too. If you're in the ATL and need some Mexican, hit it up.

Open Letter to Willy Wonka

As I watch the monday morning quarterbacks pontificate over last night's Oscar Fashion disasters, I laugh at the catty comments. I enjoy it because I'm eating Fun Dip. Now I realize I have the same candy preferences as most five-year-olds, but I'm o.k. with it.

Fun Dip, as you may or may not know, is entirely processed sugar. That's why it's good. What other candy has three separate pouches of awesomeness? (Don't even talk about Pop Rocks in the same category).

The only part of Fun Dip that gets in my proverbial craw is the RazzApple magic dip. It is the bastard child of the bunch. It has no place in the canon of candy powders. How dare this impostor show its face among greats like Grape and Cherry?

Mr. Wonka, if you're out there, do your part to make a good candy great. Nix RazzApple.I propose the inauguration of Orange powder to office*.


* All in favor of this motion, please indicate in the comments. Let's make a change in this country.

Still Life: Toe Orange

Still Life Action in the ATL

Painted Face

This is Cedrick. This is my photo assignment for Intro to photography. Paint a face, as Peter Hobbs called it. Since I don't know anything about makeup, I chose to do the manliest thing possible. Camo. I think it turned out pretty well.

He's Back

Andre hasn't dropped a rhyme in a minute or two. Until now. Dre dropped "Da Art of Storytelling Part 4." It's fire. Scope it out on your torrent or Acquisition. The track is on one of DJ Drama's Gangsta Grills mixtapes.


via Standard ATL.

Another Friday in the trenches...

It's been a busy blogging day. And tons of new work. Here's a poster design I'm working on for a fake tour in 08. It's MF DOOM's "Impending Doom Tour." The poster still needs some tweaking, but it's getting there.

Picture says a thousand words

Have you ever tried to describe yourself in one word? An all-encompassing statement that tells a stranger what you're about. I suggest you try it if you haven't. It's a self-affirming exercise.

Well, that's what I've been working on the past few weeks. In my story-telling and metaphors class, I had to design a logo for myself. It took some deep digging to really find out who I am. Something that will be represented in a single mark. It was an interesting process. One of the first exercises we did was take an anonymous survey of what other people thought about each person in the class. Each person had to write a single adjective about each person. The results were pretty cool.

Unassuming. Confident. Nice. Smart. Stylish. Those were some of the responses I got from my classmates. I was pretty flattered. I took a lot of those words into consideration when I was designing my logo.

I really wanted to make it a reflection of my profession (to be). My first attempts made reference to a sheet of paper with a dog-eared corner. I really liked the mark, but it wasn't there. I didn't want to pigeon-hole myself as just a writer. One of my initial sketches included a speech bubble encapsulating my initials. It had no relevance to me. I just marked it down.

In our class, I was showing my first round of sketches. One of my classmates commented about how the speech bubbble could possibly be a thought bubble. That was the moment. That was the word that encapsulated me and my future career. Thoughts. I'm an ideas person. I'm also constantly milling things over. Thinking about random stuff that's only useful on Jeopardy. I moved forward.

I made another round of sketches. It was looking good. My thought bubble would not be the cutsy cartoon type. It would be simplified with clean-rounded edges. I also wanted to utilize my initials: AH. The logo would relfect the "a hah" moment when brilliance strikes.

Now to the computer. I made some initial comps with a palette of cyan, orange, kelly green and a dark indigo. It took quite a while to get the curves right in Illustrator,but I knew the one I liked about an hour-and-a-half in to the exercise. I think the logo might have a dynamic color. It's cyan for the time being. Take a look at the refined mark.

Window in the sky.

This ditty was edited by the fine folks at Modernista! If you can name all the artists, you're on some Rain Man stuff.

Drummeriffic

What happens when two of the best drummers in the game join forces? Watch and see.

Happy Hands

I love YouTube.

Clutchy/DOOM

Scope the album on Emusic.

Clutchy Hopkins

Watch and enjoy. Who is the man behind the mystery? Some speculate it's a Stone's Throw project hatched by Madlib.

Metal 4 Life

Turn the beat up.

Cheah.

God must have spent a little more time...

So I lurk on a site called FFFFOUND a lot. Like more than Facebook. This post made my day. It's not the shirt, if you're wondering.

Hatfield Be Thy Name

Who’s the real force behind Nike? Jordan? Woods? None of the above. Unless you’re a sneaker fanatic, you’ve probably never heard of Nike’s design Jedi, Tinker Hatfield.

Hatfield grew up in rural Oregon. “You either worked on the farms or participated in sports,” He says. “My dad was a coach. My mom was a coach. My sister married a coach and my brother was a coach. Sports were the center of our lives.” Although Hatfield excelled in Football and Basketball, it was his track spikes that earned Hatfield a scholarship to the University of Oregon.

Two years into the track program, Hatfield suffered a terrible leg injury. And For the first time, he faced the stark reality of not being a full-time athlete. Hatfield gave up track and immersed himself in the architecture program.

“I was already studying architecture but wasn't really passionate about it until I realized I was not going to be a professional athlete,” he says. “So I made the choice to explore design on a deeper, more committed level. I dug in.”

When Hatfield Graduated in 1981, Nike hired him as a corporate architect. He mostly designed Nike stores, office remodels and Nike’s extensive campus.

“I see architecture as a great combination of art and science and cultural experience,” Hatfield says. “I saw the spot at Nike as a way to get into an environment that offered options. It didn't hurt that my track coach at the University of Oregon, Bill Bowerman, was also one of the Nike's founders.”

But Hatfield’s stint as an architect didn’t last long. Figuring Hatfield could draw, Nike’s marketing director asked Hatfield to design shoes. “I jumped at the chance,” he says. “Designing shoes was where the real action was.”

Hatfield’s first major assignment was on the Air Max 1; and his inspiration for the shoe came from an unexpected place: the Pompidou Center in Paris. He was intrigued by the building’s exposure of pipes, air ducts and walkways.

“It was amazing to see this building, spilling its guts out into the world.” Hatfield says. “It really inspired me, because it really shook the world of architecture.” From this experience, Hatfield suggested Nike expose the air system in the Air Max. This design allowed for a larger air system, which increased stability and comfort. Hatfield’s design did not go over well.

Nike insiders scoffed at the original design of the shoe, stating it was far too vulnerable to punctures. “We can’t sell a shoe with a hole in it. I doesn’t even look like a running shoe,” Nike’s head of Running told Hatfield. Hatfield faced an uphill battle.

But Hatfield stuck to his guns. He even pushed a radical vibrant inspired by the Popidou Center. Eventually, Nike signed off on the Air Max. The exposed air system design became Nike’s trademark. The company has grown from selling track shoes out of a van, to a global force to be reckoned with. Nike raked in 4.34 billion dollars in 2007—a lot of shoes.

Hatfield went on to design the coveted Air Jordan line. Hatfield designed the shoe with direct input from MJ. The designer watched Jordan’s playing style, noting the superstar’s movements and style.

“He moved like a cat,” says Hatfield. “He was lanky, but when he wanted to he had power and could just launch. So here at Nike we talked about him being like a black panther. That drove the shoe's design. It had a paw-like sole, black leather and ticking on the side that looked like a cat's fur.”

Hatfield encourages designers and others to expand their education and knowledge.
“The larger point here is to broaden your experiences,” he says. “If you're in design, take some business courses. If you're in business take a design course. Before you go to law school, travel around the world for a year. Take music lessons. Get on a bus or rent an RV.”

Hatfield now serves as a mentor and advisor to younger designers at Nike. He now understands the importance of helping others. "There's something pretty cool about getting to that point," Hatfield says. "We used to have a sign in my work group that said, 'Make yourself useful.'"

Hatfield's done pretty well at that.

Fly on the Wall at Dragon D's

Why do people insist on making complete asses of themselves in public? This stems from a literal scene I witnessed today.

I ducked out to grab a bit of Chinese after an arduous day in class. I'm enjoying some Hot & Sour soup, and in walks this couple. Dragon D's isn't the largest eating establishment, so I heard every syllable the lady uttered. I had my trusty notepad too. I took dictation on the exchange.

"Do y'all have honey chik'n? No? MMMkay... Can we get fried rice? And add egg to that. And no peas, or carrots. Make that two."

Examine that statement. A custom order of fried rice. This customer wanted to nix those little cubic carrots and wilted frozen peas. Lady had no qualms about vocalizing her requests.

I'm going to propose some ground rules. If you're paying less than 10 bucks for food, you probably should take what you get, unless you're hankering for some special sauce. Chill out with the loud, condescending orders at restaurants. Stop acting like a dickhead when you're out in public. Save it for the confines of your residence.

Same goes with ordering coffee or your white chocolate steamer at Starbucks. The length of your custom order is directly proportionate to your asshole quotient.


SOD is:

Album of the Week: Quatro

I finally got a chance to see There Will Be Blood last weekend. It's one of the better films I've seen in a long time. Daniel Day Lewis's performance is solid. If there's one thing that makes the movie more compelling, it's the music. Jonny Greenwood, of Radiohead, scored the film. It's amazing. It's haunting. Check it out if you get a chance.