Well, do ya?
DO YA, PUNK?
Monday, May 12, 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
ALTAR BEAST
He's here! He's here! He's really here!
He's green! He's mean! He's got a purple chest?
HE'S GOT A PURPLE CHEST!
That is Altar Beast. A sewer-colored demon wolf with small parts, not for children under fourteen. The fine folks at MonsterWorship.com were kind enough to hook me up with an Altar Beast figure at HorrorHound Weekend, which was great because I do like beasts and I do like candy-apple green colored beasts, too.
They must have known that I'm a big fan of the art toy revolution. There's a certain smell about my person. The seedy underbelly of producing, trading and colleting artsy molds of all sorts of weird shit is...like, really cool. My pheromones are in overdrive just thinking about it! Whatever you want = you make. I like how it's so DIY and unique and colorful. And super fucking expensive but let's not go down that road and ruin the buzz ya know yeah
I'm no expert, but this one is good. Really good. Even the name is good. "Altar Beast." So tough. So beast! The way he stares, the way he struts, the way he's a LIME GREEN WEREWOLF.
I like this pose, too. They sculpted it just right. The "hands above the head" look works in many ways. He's either extreme in attack/scare mode or ready to body-slam the shit out of the entirety of Castle Greyskull. It looks like he moves at the waist but I can neither confirm nor deny this for I refuse to take it out of the package hahaha just kidding YOLO
I love it. My new favorite thing ever. Feels all smooth and slick. Looks even better out of it's cage. Looks highly chew-able, too. Probably tastes good, too. Looks like it belongs in my mouth, is what I'm trying to say.
The only thing that would make this better would be to give it the face of a bee so you can call it "Altar Bee-st." So it would be like a killer bee, but still hold elements of it's wolf-beast form. I dunno. I just really like puns.
ALTAR BEAST OUT
He's green! He's mean! He's got a purple chest?
HE'S GOT A PURPLE CHEST!
That is Altar Beast. A sewer-colored demon wolf with small parts, not for children under fourteen. The fine folks at MonsterWorship.com were kind enough to hook me up with an Altar Beast figure at HorrorHound Weekend, which was great because I do like beasts and I do like candy-apple green colored beasts, too.
They must have known that I'm a big fan of the art toy revolution. There's a certain smell about my person. The seedy underbelly of producing, trading and colleting artsy molds of all sorts of weird shit is...like, really cool. My pheromones are in overdrive just thinking about it! Whatever you want = you make. I like how it's so DIY and unique and colorful. And super fucking expensive but let's not go down that road and ruin the buzz ya know yeah
I'm no expert, but this one is good. Really good. Even the name is good. "Altar Beast." So tough. So beast! The way he stares, the way he struts, the way he's a LIME GREEN WEREWOLF.
I like this pose, too. They sculpted it just right. The "hands above the head" look works in many ways. He's either extreme in attack/scare mode or ready to body-slam the shit out of the entirety of Castle Greyskull. It looks like he moves at the waist but I can neither confirm nor deny this for I refuse to take it out of the package hahaha just kidding YOLO
I love it. My new favorite thing ever. Feels all smooth and slick. Looks even better out of it's cage. Looks highly chew-able, too. Probably tastes good, too. Looks like it belongs in my mouth, is what I'm trying to say.
The only thing that would make this better would be to give it the face of a bee so you can call it "Altar Bee-st." So it would be like a killer bee, but still hold elements of it's wolf-beast form. I dunno. I just really like puns.
ALTAR BEAST OUT
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Breaking SAD.
I, like the rest of the world with Netflix, have finished the entire Breaking Bad series. And, I, like the rest of the world who has seen the show in it's entirely, am in a crippling state of mourning.
I'm being dramatic. Well, sort of.
You know the feeling. You know the grief. Countless hours stacked up only to be swiped down without the slightest hesitation. Again, way dramatic (the damn show eventually has to come to a close) but you know what I mean.
I didn't hate the ending. I didn't hate anything, really. It was an event. A black-hole of space and time that sucked me in from beginning to end. The emotional attachment towards the characters and situations have warranted an unwarranted bond with a fictional family on a television show about a dude who cooks meth and his kid has crutches and there's a lawyer and a fat guy and lot of murder but now I'm bummed it's over BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
You know exactly what I mean.
And I'm pissed because that through all this shit, this roller-coaster ride of this fucking show, this intensely addicting prison of a show...I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. Not a single souvenir. No "job well done," a pat on the back, a "go get 'em, kid!" All I want ALL I REALLY WANT is an e-mail from the creator saying, "thanks!" And maybe some of that really sparkly, delicious looking blue meth. Is that so hard?
....
NO ITS NOT BITCHES
Ta-da!
Straight from New Mexico's very own Candy Lady comes the ultimate in faux drug paraphernalia -- BLUE CANDY METH!
Yes, there is a store in New Mexico that sells this stuff. Yes, it's candy and YES it's legitimately tied to Breaking Bad. The Candy Lady produced and supplied the show with what would become instantly recognizable as...well, that blue crystal meth on Breaking Bad. It's kind of weird to think they'd go through the trouble to create prop-meth with candy, though. I guess they figured they'd have a shit-ton of fake meth lying around after a shoot...why not be able to eat the stuff?
There is no greater joy than owning a dime-bag of crushed up, fake blue candy from a hugely popular television series. I feel even more connected than ever before. I'm part of this and now it's now a part of me. Because it's the simple things. We work, we play, we find comfort in candy drugs. And with this great discovery, this zen-like epiphany, a chapter in my life can close (and I can finally watch something else). It was a fun ride while it lasted. Thanks, Candy Lady. And thanks, Walter White and Jesse Pinkman. Thanks for the memories!
AND FOR THE REALLY COOL BLUE CANDY METH WHEEE!1!!!!!
I'm being dramatic. Well, sort of.
You know the feeling. You know the grief. Countless hours stacked up only to be swiped down without the slightest hesitation. Again, way dramatic (the damn show eventually has to come to a close) but you know what I mean.
I didn't hate the ending. I didn't hate anything, really. It was an event. A black-hole of space and time that sucked me in from beginning to end. The emotional attachment towards the characters and situations have warranted an unwarranted bond with a fictional family on a television show about a dude who cooks meth and his kid has crutches and there's a lawyer and a fat guy and lot of murder but now I'm bummed it's over BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
You know exactly what I mean.
And I'm pissed because that through all this shit, this roller-coaster ride of this fucking show, this intensely addicting prison of a show...I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. Not a single souvenir. No "job well done," a pat on the back, a "go get 'em, kid!" All I want ALL I REALLY WANT is an e-mail from the creator saying, "thanks!" And maybe some of that really sparkly, delicious looking blue meth. Is that so hard?
....
NO ITS NOT BITCHES
Ta-da!
Straight from New Mexico's very own Candy Lady comes the ultimate in faux drug paraphernalia -- BLUE CANDY METH!
Yes, there is a store in New Mexico that sells this stuff. Yes, it's candy and YES it's legitimately tied to Breaking Bad. The Candy Lady produced and supplied the show with what would become instantly recognizable as...well, that blue crystal meth on Breaking Bad. It's kind of weird to think they'd go through the trouble to create prop-meth with candy, though. I guess they figured they'd have a shit-ton of fake meth lying around after a shoot...why not be able to eat the stuff?
There is no greater joy than owning a dime-bag of crushed up, fake blue candy from a hugely popular television series. I feel even more connected than ever before. I'm part of this and now it's now a part of me. Because it's the simple things. We work, we play, we find comfort in candy drugs. And with this great discovery, this zen-like epiphany, a chapter in my life can close (and I can finally watch something else). It was a fun ride while it lasted. Thanks, Candy Lady. And thanks, Walter White and Jesse Pinkman. Thanks for the memories!
AND FOR THE REALLY COOL BLUE CANDY METH WHEEE!1!!!!!
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
I really like bar mirrors.
I think it's because...well, I like bars.
We play in bars all the time. I'm constantly in bars. I couldn't escape a bar if I tried. Even if I absolutely hated bars, I still couldn't fight my natural attraction to low lighting and a place where the lone intent is to get fucked up. So I'm stuck liking bars.
Whenever we go on tour, whenever we play a wacky bar in the middle of no where, I always entertain the idea of swiping something off the wall for my own collection. Nothing too big, nothing like a giant cow skull or a chalkboard, but something minor and inconspicuous to take home and to help build my arsenal of weird, dumb shit. You know how some bars are just littered with dumb shit? Moose heads, cheesy beer posters, whatever. Stuff like that.
It's bad, I know, but it's my dream. It's my calling. Naturally, I'm too much of a puss to actually do this, so I'm left with accomplishing the goal in my own, legal fashion. Wait, what's the goal again?
I dunno. To make my place look like a bar, I guess.
There's comfort in bar culture. I like bars. I like the way they look, feel and smell. Over the years, I've become so accustomed to the inside of these damn places that I want my damn place to look like those damn places.
SO BAR MIRRORS
I don't know how I got it in my head, but I really like bar mirrors now. They're just really...cool. Classy, maybe? I don't know. Now, I've seen quite a few radical bar mirrors in my time (Elvis themed, that really cool Coors Light Beer Wolf thing, etc.) but most, unfortunately, are insanely overpriced. Who knew a mirror you can barely see yourself in would be so expensive? So you gotta understand my plight. You know the lengths I would go to (petty theft, irrevocable guilt, etc.) but I'm a bar-bum on a budget. And where do bums shop?
And so enters eBay:
It was cheap, which is good. It was one of those rare and exciting occasions where I actually won what I was bidding on. I figure no one gives a shit about flimsy, dirty Pacifico mirrors like I do, so the celebration seems a bit overzealous. Extra points because Pacifico is delicious BTW.
And I dig the way it looks! Wood frame, clean glass, every one's happy. While doing the shitty dishes, I can imagine that I'm on a beach with the sun above, the wind gently wafting through my hair while a raucous, two-on-two volleyball tournament takes place in the near distance. Winner takes home bragging rights and the hottest girl in school! Just imagine!
Believe it or not, I found this next piece in the dumpster. The fucking dumpster. I'm not one to knock the ol' occasional dumpster dive, though. In fact, I encourage it. Fantastic things can be found in dumpsters! Like a slightly dirty, possibly diseased Dos Equis bar mirror! Touch of paint a bit of elbow grease and she shines like a diamond. The mirror is so reflective you can make out every nook and cranny of that popcorn ceiling!
That's about it for now.
Of course, the hunt continues.
The obsession grows.
I dunno. To make my place look like a bar, I guess.
There's comfort in bar culture. I like bars. I like the way they look, feel and smell. Over the years, I've become so accustomed to the inside of these damn places that I want my damn place to look like those damn places.
SO BAR MIRRORS
I don't know how I got it in my head, but I really like bar mirrors now. They're just really...cool. Classy, maybe? I don't know. Now, I've seen quite a few radical bar mirrors in my time (Elvis themed, that really cool Coors Light Beer Wolf thing, etc.) but most, unfortunately, are insanely overpriced. Who knew a mirror you can barely see yourself in would be so expensive? So you gotta understand my plight. You know the lengths I would go to (petty theft, irrevocable guilt, etc.) but I'm a bar-bum on a budget. And where do bums shop?
And so enters eBay:
It was cheap, which is good. It was one of those rare and exciting occasions where I actually won what I was bidding on. I figure no one gives a shit about flimsy, dirty Pacifico mirrors like I do, so the celebration seems a bit overzealous. Extra points because Pacifico is delicious BTW.
And I dig the way it looks! Wood frame, clean glass, every one's happy. While doing the shitty dishes, I can imagine that I'm on a beach with the sun above, the wind gently wafting through my hair while a raucous, two-on-two volleyball tournament takes place in the near distance. Winner takes home bragging rights and the hottest girl in school! Just imagine!
Believe it or not, I found this next piece in the dumpster. The fucking dumpster. I'm not one to knock the ol' occasional dumpster dive, though. In fact, I encourage it. Fantastic things can be found in dumpsters! Like a slightly dirty, possibly diseased Dos Equis bar mirror! Touch of paint a bit of elbow grease and she shines like a diamond. The mirror is so reflective you can make out every nook and cranny of that popcorn ceiling!
That's about it for now.
Of course, the hunt continues.
The obsession grows.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
American Rebel Death Riders
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Monday, February 24, 2014
im addicted i can't help somebody please save me
WHERE HAVE I BEEN
WHERE AM I GOING
WHAT AM I?
video games, man, video games.
long story short, as soon as we got back from tour i melted into a pile of bones and skin and goo in front of my television. it was disgusting, weird and morally irresponsible but i didn't and still dont care. whenever we're offered time in between tours, i really like to go balls out with the most lazy, inconsequential bullshit known to man. netflix has always reigned supreme, but only recently have I dusted off my poor and lonely ps3 have I truly descended into a brand new era of madness.
i should have never touched the fucking thing
theres this game, this really crazy game, it's called "farcry 3" and it's really crazy. Our buddy, Luke, who occasionally goes out on tour with us to sell our fancy shirts and girly underwears, is a definite video game devotee. he likes video games as much as i like hot coffee and potato salad. which is a lot. there's no time to explain the pototo salad thing JSUTS GO WITH IT
you see, he told about this game, he told me about a lot of games, he told me stories and exciting tales of other worlds and lush adventures and all this good shit. i was hooked. there's a whole lot of time to kill on the road so my mind wandered to these magical realms. i remember the good days of ps and ps2 and now ps3. the days of yore and all that shit. no life but fuck it, those were some good times!
ive always been addicted to video games, if we're being honest. only in the last few years have I truly eased off since ya know ya gotta get some tail amiright???.i've even scoffed at the idea of someone playing video games. "what a dork!" "get a life!" i'd say from my bitchin sports car. ya know like how right after hardcore smokers who've quit get butthurt when others smoke around them. it's pure hypocrisy. what I'm saying is that i'm a hypocrite. or wuz or something. and that i wish I could smoke a video game. cuz i love video games again and i love it so much and i can never stop oh godd ojfjgosfjdkc
dc
dc
d
cccc
even right now i'm typing this while i adventure. im literally on my phone and playing this fucking game. i can feel my brain doing something weird and my body is hurts its fucking sick man. i'm ignoring all punctuation and grammar and hygenine and natrual sleep but i don't give a shit. ahhh that's not totally true. it still kind of bugs me that stuff aint capitalized and my im covered in grease oh crap SOMETHING IMPORTANT IS HAPPENING hold on a sec
OK im back waht was i saying?
ya there's this really coool video game where you get to shoot people and and hunt aniamls and skin them too if you really like. you can use shark skin and shit to make napsacks and ammo pouches and all that jazz. isn't that neat? youre like a GUY BRO who gets abducted by a group of crazy dudes after you parachute onto the wrong motherfucking island. like...your not ACTUALLY THE GUY but you're playing one, know what i mean?? you get to ride all sorts of cars and boats and shit and do some crazyass maneuvers on some dudes, like sneek up behind people and slash there throats and even theres a part where u take some drugs and start tripping like holy hell man it's fucking tiiiiiiiight
im almost near the end there's a few more things to do this is probably my favorite game i've played so far and believe me i've played a lot of games does your head hurt to? my head reallyl hurts i feel funny
yah, theres this really cool game i'm playing right now soooooooooo
so ill have to get back to you later oK?
OK.
bye ttyl
WHERE AM I GOING
WHAT AM I?
video games, man, video games.
long story short, as soon as we got back from tour i melted into a pile of bones and skin and goo in front of my television. it was disgusting, weird and morally irresponsible but i didn't and still dont care. whenever we're offered time in between tours, i really like to go balls out with the most lazy, inconsequential bullshit known to man. netflix has always reigned supreme, but only recently have I dusted off my poor and lonely ps3 have I truly descended into a brand new era of madness.
i should have never touched the fucking thing
theres this game, this really crazy game, it's called "farcry 3" and it's really crazy. Our buddy, Luke, who occasionally goes out on tour with us to sell our fancy shirts and girly underwears, is a definite video game devotee. he likes video games as much as i like hot coffee and potato salad. which is a lot. there's no time to explain the pototo salad thing JSUTS GO WITH IT
you see, he told about this game, he told me about a lot of games, he told me stories and exciting tales of other worlds and lush adventures and all this good shit. i was hooked. there's a whole lot of time to kill on the road so my mind wandered to these magical realms. i remember the good days of ps and ps2 and now ps3. the days of yore and all that shit. no life but fuck it, those were some good times!
ive always been addicted to video games, if we're being honest. only in the last few years have I truly eased off since ya know ya gotta get some tail amiright???.i've even scoffed at the idea of someone playing video games. "what a dork!" "get a life!" i'd say from my bitchin sports car. ya know like how right after hardcore smokers who've quit get butthurt when others smoke around them. it's pure hypocrisy. what I'm saying is that i'm a hypocrite. or wuz or something. and that i wish I could smoke a video game. cuz i love video games again and i love it so much and i can never stop oh godd ojfjgosfjdkc
dc
dc
d
cccc
even right now i'm typing this while i adventure. im literally on my phone and playing this fucking game. i can feel my brain doing something weird and my body is hurts its fucking sick man. i'm ignoring all punctuation and grammar and hygenine and natrual sleep but i don't give a shit. ahhh that's not totally true. it still kind of bugs me that stuff aint capitalized and my im covered in grease oh crap SOMETHING IMPORTANT IS HAPPENING hold on a sec
OK im back waht was i saying?
ya there's this really coool video game where you get to shoot people and and hunt aniamls and skin them too if you really like. you can use shark skin and shit to make napsacks and ammo pouches and all that jazz. isn't that neat? youre like a GUY BRO who gets abducted by a group of crazy dudes after you parachute onto the wrong motherfucking island. like...your not ACTUALLY THE GUY but you're playing one, know what i mean?? you get to ride all sorts of cars and boats and shit and do some crazyass maneuvers on some dudes, like sneek up behind people and slash there throats and even theres a part where u take some drugs and start tripping like holy hell man it's fucking tiiiiiiiight
im almost near the end there's a few more things to do this is probably my favorite game i've played so far and believe me i've played a lot of games does your head hurt to? my head reallyl hurts i feel funny
yah, theres this really cool game i'm playing right now soooooooooo
so ill have to get back to you later oK?
OK.
bye ttyl
Thursday, February 13, 2014
"There is an Evil Inside."
One of my favorite music videos from one of my favorite albums. Can it get any better than that?
We filmed this in a single day, but it took about two hours to get my hair just right. We wanted to go for something a little more simple, a little more in your face and just plain gnarly. All Calabrese, all the time. Have you ever wanted to see what our mouths looked like REALLY UP CLOSE? Well, then this video is for you!
There's a few very specific influences we generously took from, but I think that's what gives it charm. Words like "copy" and "clone" or so negative, ladies and gentleman. I like to think of it as an homage. A grandiose tribute!
And if anything, I also really like the song. I think it's one of the cooler tracks off the record, and really stands out as being something unique and solid and interesting. We wrote it to be like The Misfits' "American Nightmare," or something Elvis would write if he were attacked by a werewolf. Whatever the case, the song is done and the video is complete, so grab yourself an extra large and buttery bag of popcorn and enjoy!
STAY EVIL!
www.calabreserock.com
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