Brian Krans's Blog, page 15

The Blader Digest Podcast Ep. 01: Blading Cup Primer

We’re trying something a little different. We’ve gone from annoying your eyeballs and moved into your ear holes.

 

For our first episode, I sat down with Erick Garcia and Kennan Scott, the voice of the Blading Cup. This episode was recorded Oct. 7, 2014, in Kennan’s garage in Oakland, Calif.

We shared some laughs while discussing what bladers they’re excited to see at the Cup, Filth Juice, autoimmune disorders, the Bladies, what ingredients are needed for a dynamic blade-announcing duo, and, of course, the Triple Crown of Rollerblading.

To see them live, come to downtown Santa Ana, Calif., on Nov. 1 for the fourth installment of The Blading Cup. For more information, see www.bladingcup.com.

Thumbnail image courtesy of Sean Keane and Rollerwarehouse.

Podcast music provided by The Afterdarks. 

Let us know what you think.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

To support Blade or Die and the podcast, purchase books from www.rocktownpress.bigcartel.com.

Blader Digest: Getting the Blood Diamond

Dearest Prospective Employer,

Hello, my name is Brian Krans, and I’d like to be paid to do stuff.

What kind of stuff, you ask? Since this economy and society doesn’t offer many openings for an investigative journalist, the financial suck-hole of media, the list of what I’ll do for money continues to grow.

Plasma donation might be an option, but I doubt there’s anything decent left in my blood.

But before you even solicit me with propositions, I’m not quite at the stage of what Doug Stanhope calls “getting the blood diamond.”

Let me tell you a bit about myself. First, I’m a Libra. Two, I think astrology is fucking stupid and only exists to give people an excuse to celebrate their personal shortcomings, which is totally the Libra in me speaking.

My first job was working for my grandfather. It wasn’t ditch digging, but pulling roots out of new roads when you’re 11 sucks just as bad. Good thing Wisconsin is loose on child labor practices.

After that, I was a paperboy, janitor at a day spa, stockman at Wal-Mart, golf course maintenance worker, cashier, liquor store clerk, security guard, K-Mart employee, student newspaper editor, radio show host, obituary writer, newspaper reporter, bar back, youth center volunteer, bartender, line cook, dog sitter, data entry clerk, marketing copywriter, novelist, and health and science journalist.

Many of those jobs overlap, so don’t think I can’t hold a job. And I can hold my liquor during company functions.

Other skills I possess that won’t result in gainful employment include building skate ramps, being able to live out of a truck, being on a few government watch lists, and possessing the ability to fold my tongue horizontally. (Again, no blood diamond stuff yet. Hit me up in a few months though.)

Now, I’m a freelance writer who sucks at professional networking, which is why I’m applying with you at Trader Joe’s.

I can also rollerblade well. Not like pro well, but better than most people. (But since this isn’t Sonic, you don’t give a fuck.) I also like writing about rollerblading, which is the only reason you’re reading this on a site named BladeorDie.com.

It says here on this job site that you’re looking for a self-starter. Sure, you’ll glaze over the fact I self-published four books in seven years and orchestrated a one-man book tour across the country, but I know you’re looking for someone you don’t have to tell “If you can lean, you can clean.”

When I worked for my grandfather, he’d yell at me anytime I had my hands in my pockets. He said it makes a man not look like he’s ready to work. I’ve learned it also helps keep parents calmer when a grown man keeps hanging around schoolyards and parks without children of his own.

That’s a skating thing, so settle down. Okay, Chuck E Cheese, I’ve lost you for good this time.

Your ad also says you’re looking for someone who has good time management. Well, I’m so damn good with time I’ve managed to live 33 years, each with 365.25 days and 24 hours in each of those. Manage the shit about that.

Oh, your ideal candidate is well-organized, detail-oriented, efficient and a team player? I don’t know if you know this, but I was my brother’s high school hockey team water boy, and I filled the shit out of all those water bottles between periods with the efficiency and zeal of Adam Sandler, but with a Midwestern work ethic and no mental deficiency.

And at the bottom, you’ll see I can spell my own name correctly. How’s that for detail-orientated?

Bachelor of arts degree? Of course I have one. That’s why I’m applying for retail positions in my 30s.

Problem solving skills? Not the best. Still haven’t figured out what being “ratchet” fully entails or why The Doors are considered a good band. And I’ve figured out why kids love the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but you’ll have to hire me to know that one.

Nothing’s ever really free, you know.

But I am a good worker. When shit needs to get done, I’ll be there doing it. If there’s a possibility for advancement (with more pay), you’ll get more out of my time.

In the 22 years since I started my first job, I’ve learned that boredom is the quickest way to die, and since I have to sacrifice the majority of the best 50 years of my life to doing something for someone else because long-term urban camping is frowned upon, I want to keep myself challenged and entertained.

Now let’s talk about things you’d like to see from me.

Yup. Here’s my resume. Yes, I put Blade or Die on there. This hackney mashing of a keyboard is my favorite shit. Salary there? Pfft. You’re so silly. Combing writing and rollerblading equates to being as interested in financial profits as The Joker.

 

 

No, you can’t have links to my social media pages. The least you can do is use Google to find them. It’s not like my name is John Smith. (But if you search my name and Google gives you lists off things about pedophiles and workplace shootings, you’ve found the right Brian Krans.)

Seriously, Target?! You’re walking out, too? Jesus, make one terrorist and Target mention and Google betrays you for life.

Besides, if you’re only checking for my number of followers, I won’t be posting things on your behalf because you think that’s part of my job. If I like it and feel my friends would enjoy it, then I’ll share it. You want to share your corporate branding image? Up your advertising budget and buy a billboard.

And, no, I’m not the self-imploding idiot who airs work-dirtied laundry on the line for all to see. I’m not a complete idiot, nor do I need to garnish white-problem sympathy via Facebook because I had a bad day at a job where I could be replaced by someone who fears the INS.

Hell, I once had a customer that moved before ponying up for three months of his newspaper subscription. No big deal, only came out of my 14-year-old pocket. Then, two years later, the same guy comes to speak to my high school class, doesn’t recognize me, and chews me out in front of my classmates. Did I retaliate that he still owed me more than forty bucks? No, I was civil and took my punches (and there was no social media then). I still regret it to this day.

References? Yes, my past bosses don’t hate me. At least not all of them. Sure, you can call them. Hopefully they’ll pick up.

My greatest weakness, since you’re going to ask, is my body’s gag reflex when you want me to start chugging down the corporate Kool-Aid. I just always seem to throw that shit right back up. I’ll do your job, but don’t be surprised if you never see me carrying around the corporate tote bag or backpack. Yes, it’s nice, but I’m not applying to be the sandwich board out front.

My greatest strength all depends on what you’re looking for.

If it’s retail, all I can say is that seven years between Wal-Mart and K-Mart taught me to walk faster than most people run. Since modern retail buildings are constructed to host Super Bowls, I can get from one end of the store to the other before another pro football player beats someone a third of their size. And I can lift fifty-pound boxes of whatever—cash from illegal war profiteering, heroin, Starbursts, etc. —without a problem.

If it’s media, it’s because I dig writing and I’m down for the cause. You’ll get your money’s worth from me.

Anyone in the middle, I learn quickly. I can do what I’m told, so long as the person telling has a good expectation of what he or she wants.

My goals in life are very simple right now: get a job and bring home a regular paycheck so my girlfriend and I can get a bigger place so the dog can have a yard and I can have an office so when I’m up writing until 2 a.m., I’m not keeping her up. (She’s a middle school principal. She needs her rest.)

And since you won’t ever send a “Hey, We’re Not Interested” email, I hope I at least offended you enough that you’ll let me know my application is waiting to be purged from your email trash.

Burn in hell, You lazy, judgmental pricks,
— Brain Kranz

P.S. — If you want to learn more about pedophiles and workplace shootings, check out Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story.

Or don’t. I’m not your boss or wife. I can’t tell you what to do.

Blader Digests: Rollerblading’s Financial Future

A lot of people got up in arms over Ryan Loewy’s essay on his website, titled “Rollerblading’s Financial Identity Crisis.” The TL;DR is this: Ryan doesn’t really like the pay-for-play edits that have been coming out because he feels little effort is put into them (with notable exceptions being F33T and SSM’s 666 series).

Because of the loss of a physical copy, Loewy pines, things become more disposable and therefore a loss in quality.

“It just seems to be less about the time invested, and more about the views and revenue that can be pulled, and that, that my friends, is the flaw that will continue to rid any of these works of the true value that they actually possess,” Loewy concludes.

For that, I would like to retort. Loewy has some good points, but since I’ve been meaning to write on this subject for months, I figure this to be as good as any time as ever.

When I traveled all over the U.S. this summer, sleeping on blader couches to tour with my book, I talked with lots of people about paying for edits now. Much to my surprise—considering the stereotypical cheapskate (no pun intended) nature of rollerblading—plenty of people were happy to shell out of a few bucks to get the latest from bladers they’ve loved for decades.

So the following thoughts and suggestions aren’t merely my own, but rather a compilation of discussions with, and opinions of, rollerbladers across the U.S. and in Toronto (i.e. I did some homework before reaching my conclusions).

A Broskow/AJ piece for $4 to raise money for a larger project? “No problem,” they said. $8.99 for a Franky edit? “Sure!” many shrieked. “That’s a bit too much,” few said. Six bucks to watch the edit that put Shima in a wheel chair?

Most people I talked to thought it was a good idea and they promptly supported it. It was embracing a (not really that) new technology to get money to people who are severely underpaid for their levels of talents.

While pay-for-edits is only a few months old, there will be discussions about what is worth what, but sales for those making the videos will be the ultimate test. If I tried to put out an edit and charge 99 cents, I’m positive I wouldn’t have enough to fill up on the McDonald’s Dollar Menu.

Who is trying it? Valo with Valo 4Life and V on the iTunes store, Shima, Joey Chase, Jon Bolino, Franky, Jeff Dalnas, the KCMO crew (Farmer, Kelso Brothers, etc.) and the Sacramento guys, including Sean Keane, Casey Baggozzi, and an unforgettable ending from Michael Braud in The Drought.

The Drought from Casey Bagozzi on Vimeo.

Recognize any of those names? I sure fucking hope so. It’s a miracle more of them aren’t in wheelchairs, so if they have found a way to get some money they deserve—and not from sponsors and cutting down production costs to increase profit—then good for them.

If the lack of a physical copy makes you uneasy—as it does with me when it comes to books—then maybe they can find a way to do a print-on-demand for them. Instead of getting what you paid for instantly that you can keep on a hard drive, you can order a copy, wait a week or so for it to be replicated and packaged, another 3-5 days for Media Mail to ship it to your door, and you can hold your DVD or BluRay (both antiquated technologies) with pride.

Don’t get me wrong—I like my shelves to have something on them, like printed books and DVDs, but I don’t miss carrying around CD carriers or CD players with me to listen to my music. I’d rather keep my MP3s.

Yes, I fear Google Glass and the Apple Watch like the Luddite I am, but when technology exists to reduce costs for a cash-strapped industry I love more than my dog, I’ll embrace some changes.

Besides, there are more pluses than negatives on the issue.

Advantages of the Pay-for-Play Online Model

Format: Smartphones? Tablets? No fucking DVD drive on any of them.
Instant delivery: In the days of Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, people want it now. When I was in Chicago, many of the guys there hadn’t seen KCMO. Instead of bugging the guys at The Pull (which doesn’t have a physical store front) to get a copy so all could watch, I plugged in my Paypal info and bought them a copy. A few minutes later and everyone was watching.
Disbursement: Instead of money going to DVD replicators and printers, more of the money goes directly to the filmmakers and skaters involved.
Quality: It’s entirely unfair to compare today’s rollerblading to things like Coup de Tat or VG19. If that’s the standard to which everyone is held, then no one should ever put on skates and have a camera pointed at them. There are greater things to come in the future than can be judged in the past.
Allows for instant feedback: Let’s face it, there have been some major letdown team videos in recent years. I won’t name names, but should we have paid for those things in installments like the 666 series, we could have provided instant feedback to whoever was making the video so by the time the ender came out it’d hopefully have corrected sins made in the first.
Fair market: If you think something is too expensive, don’t buy it and the model will die instantly if everyone else is on board. If you pirate it, kill yourself. Hell, tell me you’re going to do it, so I can cover it just like John Danielson. It’ll be fun.
It creates a market for the ams: Skaters with really great talent who have already proven to be good at rollerblading can market themselves as individuals and not have to wait for a sponsor to take notice. I love me some sub-pro paid skaters, and I’d love to support them to keep blading hard. So, say if someone really great, really entertaining skaters—i.e. Cameron Talbott, Carson Starnes, Sean Keane, Mason Richard, Brandon Ford, Gumby, Gavin Drumm, Michael Garlinghouse, Mike Froemling, Kevin Yee, etc.—put in the extra effort to put out what could be a section in a pro video and asked 99 cents for it, I’d spend it.  (As someone who self-publishes his books, I support this spirit.)
Opens the opportunity for other funding measures: We shouldn’t wait until a blade legend is waiting to be put into the ground to support skaters. The current model could inspire other funding mechanisms, much like blader and professional YouTuber Rob Scallon discussed on Blade or Die this summer. Since we viewers, fans, and shit-talkers demand people expect people to destroy their bodies—in near Gladiator fight-to-the-death fashion—we have some kind of ethical responsibility to help them out. It’s the least we can do.
You might just open a blade wallet: What would you think of putting $20 a month away in a Paypal account? Doesn’t sound like much, but if you budgeted that to buy online blade media, you’d be able to buy the Broskow NYC edit, a 666 edit, The Drought, and Jeff Dalnas’ latest all in the same month. Or you could skip two of those and get a Franky edit, which history has proven repeatedly to the point where it’s a scientific fact: it’s going to be good.

No rollerblader's wallet. Ever.

How much do you really expect to be free? Honestly. Broskow’s V13 Coffee edit was insane, but since it was a commercial for skates, it was free. If you didn’t buy the skates (I did), you owe someone something.

Alex Broskow V13 “Coffee” Pro Model Promo from Themgoods on Vimeo.
Disadvantages of the Pay-for-Play Online Model

No physical copy: Let’s face it—racks of blade videos are sick. If all else fails, I can print out the splash screen from the Vimeo page, burn my own disc, and put it in a DVD case I bought at the dollar store. Then I’ll have that physical copy I so desperately need.
Less free content: There’s nothing better than free, but free doesn’t help our friends and heroes do what they love and what we love watching them do.
Having to spend money on rollerblading: I know it sucks, but industries can’t survive on hopes, dreams, and “in the old days” talk.

It’s entirely about value to the consumer (you and I). While Ryan Loewy doesn’t see the value in more edits produced with more regularity, I sure as hell do. Full-length videos are great and they’ll never leave their spot in our sport, but paid edits can provide the right skaters a way to pay their fucking rent doing what they love and are good at instead of tending bar or loading furniture.

It can make it more like every other job: put in work, get a paycheck.

Because that’s where rollerblading is at, idealistically like it or not.

The bulk of the glory days in rollerblading weren’t funded entirely by the sales of aggressive skates. A HUGE recreational base was the foundation that kept the bridge from sinking into the ocean. Do you know how many people bought K2 Fattys and never so much as rotated the wheels? (No, really, if someone has that statistic, I’d love to see it.)

via Chicago's fruitboot.com

While there’s anecdotal evidence to suggest the population at large stateside might be interested in getting around on rollerblades again, there’s no proof to suggest that our industry is anything but dependent on current rollerbladers.

We can’t continue to keep our heads stuck up our asses to think that just because something worked when rollerblading was the No. 1 recreational sport in America that we can keep our feet firmly planted in the ground and expect the world to stop changing.

The world changed around us, shunning the one thing they all clamored for. Now we watch as our industry continues to dwindle and hesitate to put our money where our mouths are when it comes to watching the best do their thing? Fuck that. That’s suicide.

I might be nearly broke and struggling to get freelance work right now, but I’ve always got money for people who keep me juiced on blading.

I’m no economist. I’m a journalist, but I did some homework to back up what I said. I know I’m not alone in saying it.

Blade or die,
— Brian Krans

P.S.—You didn’t have to pay to read this pile of shit, but if you’d like to support this site, order one of my books while I’m trying to find a full-time job again. You get books many bladers have said they’ve liked, and I can afford to buy the necessary amount of beers needed to analyze rollerblading this much.

Blader Digest: One More Day to Blade

S

unday, bladers across the world skating in memory of Brandon Jesus Negrete. Rollerblading lost a really important brother when Brandon died in October at the age of 31.

My experience with #forevernegrete817 was even more than a Sunday session in Oakland. It was a homecoming as well. For the last two-and-a-half months, I’ve been traveling across the U.S. (with a dip into lovely Canada) to promote my writing. It was a successful adventure and it was great to meet up with old friends, meet new friends, and learn about all the strong scenes all over this gorgeous country (talking specifically about you, Idaho and Montana).

Avalanche Lake, Glacier National Park

I was fortunate to experience the hospitality many bladers, skate with even more, and was even luckier they decided to come out and hear me read.

But it was a good to be back in the Bay with friends I’ve been away for longer than any other time since moving out here five years ago. They’ve become my family, and because of them, I’m even more glad to be home.

That, for many bladers, was what it was all about.

Photo credit: Sean Kelso via FB

Here in lovely drought-ridden Oakland, our sesh extended from JSF godfathers to young groms about to leave for college. We started at the Madison ledges (Spot No. 1 for the 2014 Oakland Blade Jam), made bad dietary decisions at 7 Eleven, and moved to the nearby Westlake Elementary (When I met its principal at a bar, I told him I skated his school and he bought me a shot of tequila).

These two spots are some of the most over-skated spots in Oakland, but, as always, the homies looked around for new things to do and did them. That’s what big homie seshes are all about.

And of course, there were the usual guys visiting from out-of-town. Because who doesn’t want to visit Oakland?

Photo credit: Stephen Lam, Reuters

I’d visited so many places this summer and did so much over 73 days on my one-man tour that I never had enough time to let it sink in. Now that I’m home—where the gravity always seems the strongest—it’s great to know that those who will help me adjust to the normal day-in, day-out are my fellow weeknight and weekend warrior blading brethren.

Travel all you can, but never forsake the visceral reaction to coming home. And to me, the Bay is my home. It has after all, some very important things for me here, and some of them don’t even rollerblade.

It felt all nostalgic, as Sunday was supposed to be. Because we were skating to remember Negrete. Those of us who knew him can never forget him, but it’s never a bad idea to skate to honor a homie. That’s why they have the James Short Memorial Session and New Yorkers skate for Cozmik. That’s why the Iowa homies always remember Michael Garcia. That’s why the Be-Mag message board always remembers Jared Weise.

The list goes on and it will only get longer. That’s inevitable. You will lose friends and loved ones the longer you live.

The way you adjust to it, however, is entirely up to you.

Brandon Jesus Negrete was truly an artist. Beyond being able to put together a quality finished product, he was able to inspire. It wasn’t just about the videos he made, but the process in which he did it that was the real inspiration. Brandon had fun, was humble down to the core, and reflected great respect to the people he filmed by making great pieces of blading history and uniting some of the best names in the sport while doing it.

Photo credit: @Lola_Jane

He was simply a rad dude, which is why so many of the best projects—namely Shredweiser’s Americana Tour to Hatian’s corresponding documentation of it—have been dedicated to his memory.

Photo credit: Shredweiser

Brandon was an influential person, and losing someone like that is never easy, even if you just knew him from his public persona. When the world learned that Robin Williams took his own life, they felt a loss in their own because of the decades of entertainment he provided to us, especially if we saw Hook as a child, One Hour Photo as an adult, or even if it goes back to Mork & Mindy on Nick at Nite.

What’s worse is when you lose someone influential you knew on a personal level, which Brandon was to so many in rollerblading.

I’ve lost enough meaningful people in my life that I’d give anything for a Jor-El or Dexter’s dad-type experience to recall their wisdom through the years after they’re gone. Instead, we can only guess what they’d say and hope little is lost in translation.

But while we’re forced to cope with the loss of someone important to us, we must also have the resolve to continue to live as they would with one more day on the Earth. Imagine what someone you knew would do with that one last day.

Sure as fuck would be something they loved doing.

They’d skate another day. They’d get that clip. They’d spend time with the homies. They’d stop worrying and let themselves enjoy what they have in front of them.

Since they can’t, we all should.

I’ve been thinking of the many friends I’ve lost, most recently my friend Dean Johnson. We co-hosted an early (as in 5 a.m.) morning radio show on our college’s radio station. We had a blast doing it because we knew virtually no one was listen, which gave us complete freedom. That was until the complaints to the FCC came in (and I was fired), but mainly because of how our wildly different personas balanced each other out. He was killed in a car accident before his 30th birthday.

Knowing that if he walked into my place right now with a 24-hour expiration date, we’d record ourselves discussing the news, arguing over what kind of music to play, and writing. I plan on starting a podcast about news, blading, and other stuff I’ve crammed into these columns, and each and every episode is dedicated to Dean Johnson.

Recording on tour with the Lantern Light Lounge podcast, a highlight of my trip.

Because that’s what I know my buddy would have told me to do, should he still have a voice to do it. Instead, I have his and other voices from my past tugging at my brain, instructing me what I should do until the day all these cigarettes catch up with me and I get some firsthand experience whether this God guy is real or not.

I’ve been really slacking on writing Blader Digests while on the road, but I know Brandon would be telling me to always write more. So, bud, this slathering of nouns and verbs across a white page is for you.

Thanks for being who you were. Hopefully everyone put together something Sunday worth filming from wherever you are. If not, we’ll keep trying.

Support the Brandon Jesus Negrete Fund at brandonjesusnegrete.com

But if you’ve decided to become a ghost and wander around SoCal, come check out my readings next weekend. Santa Ana on Saturday (C’mon, Taylor Crawford and free tacos!) and San Diego on Sunday.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — I had to quit my job to do this tour, so until I can find another, I’m getting by from my book sales. If you haven’t ordered any of them yet or are behind on all three, you should. Enough people seem to like it so I can say it’s not a total waste of money.

And if you hate it—and order it directly from me—I’ll include the matches to burn it with when you’re disgustingly done.

Blader Digest: Slayer, Banjos, and the Viral Side of Life

Rob Scallon inside his Chicago apartment with his trusty banjo and blades.

If rollerblading funded itself like many YouTube channels, Rob Scallon would fund every edit Broskow made in a heartbeat. And he thinks those who wouldn’t are assholes.

“I think Broskow should be on Patreon,” Scallon said. “I’d support the fuck out of him.”

Patreon is one of many new online crowdfunding sources which allows fans of specific creators to pay what they wish with each video. While Broskow and A.J. recently released at $4 edit to help raise money for the KCMO dynamic duo’s latest video, YouTube pros like Scallon use these kinds of funding sources to secure careers.

Scallon, a blader originating from the Greater Chicago area, went full-time YouTuber about a year ago and has since earned enough money to afford to live in Chicago’s Roscoe Village in a basement apartment with his girlfriend.

“A lot of people don’t realize you can get paid with YouTube. It’s a full-time job,” he said. “As a 23-year-old, I’m doing okay, but I’m not a millionaire.”

‘Metal on instruments that aren’t metal‘

Unlike Broskow, Scallon doesn’t make a living on his skates. He gets paid for making music, his most popular of which is the banjo cover of Slayer’s “Raining Blood.” Since this writing, the video has 2.1 million views.

Yes, that video that was the top trending topic on Facebook one day came from a blader.

Prior to that—and hitting over 100,000 YouTube subscribers—Scallon covered Slayer’s “War Ensemble” on the ukulele and it too went viral.

Before ever picking up an instrument, the first of which were a drum set he received from his dad at age 10, Scallon laced up a pair of blades at the age of 7. As many get their start this way, Scallon got his when a friend, Kyle Berbecker, skated the local park. Years later, Scallon would work at the same park, the YMCA in his hometown of Arlington Heights (which is where he also met and idolized Blade or Die’s own Jose Fuentes).

Combining his YouTube talents and park skills, Scallon was most recently in WheezyWaiter’s video, “Bad Parkour.” (skating is around 1:35)

This summer, Scallon will be touring the U.S. playing many instruments and wearing many hats. His tour starts with a handful of solo shows before jumping into the full-blown YouTube nerdgasm world. He’ll be playing with fellow YouTubers in Driftless Pony Club and meeting with internet god Hank Green in Seattle to play with Hank Green and the Perfect Strangers, which is pretty much as nerd rock as it gets. At some shows, Scallon will be playing as many as six sets in one night.

That also includes playing at VidCon, an annual gathering of online video enthusiasts, June 25-28 in Anaheim, Calif. That, to a YouTube enthusiast, is a big deal.

A while back, Green reached out to Scallon when he was starting a band. He got the most out of Scallon because of his multi-instrumental skills. While they’ve already recorded one album in Missoula, Mt., Scallon hopes the next recording session will allow them to create videos—their specialty—including some new music.

Hank’s brother, John Green, is the author of the insanely popular novel, The Fault in Our Stars, which is now a movie your girlfriend wants you to see together. Together, the Green brothers are part of numerous video projects, including the educational series Crash Course, which, if you haven’t seen, is a good way to catch up on all the stuff you should have learned in high school if you weren’t so busy pouring through the latest issue of Daily Bread like I was.

The summer tour is yet another example of Scallon’s growing popularity on YouTube and in the online musical world. When not touring, he’s trying to post a new video every day.

“I’m pretty much working all the time,” he said.

‘Can you… for free?’

And with popularity comes criticism and requests.

Scallon gets solicitations from people regularly, like musicians who want custom tracks or music shops who want theme songs. He’s even been harassed by a comedy duo to post their videos on his channels. The problem is—and all creative people will experience this at one point or another—is that they all want it for free.

While Scallon makes his living from YouTube and supporters of his work, he’s never once paid for followers, which has become a lucrative business for many people. That, to him, doesn’t make any financial sense.

“Overall, in the long run, it’s better to have an engaged audience. It’s more important,” he said. “If they’re not going to be around in a month, what’s the point?”

And some people who choose not to follow Scallon have some interesting reasons. One person chose to unsubscribe from his YouTube channel because they claimed he cut his hair to look like Justin Bieber.

“The funny thing is that my hair was the same. I guess Bieber is the gold standard of music,” he said, laughing. “Oh well. If you get a big enough audience, you’re going to get harsh criticism.”

From all bladers everywhere, best of luck on tour, Rob.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — I’m also on tour this summer (which is why I was able to interview Rob before he went on tour) reading books, drinking beer, and doing some blading. If you want to see if I’m coming to your town, check out RockTownPress.com Had myself a good time in Chicago, but now it’s time to head off to Columbus, then Pittsburgh, New York City, Raleigh (at Oak City Skate Shop), and so on.

You can buy a copy of the book after a reading, or from fine skate shops everywhere… like THE PULL here in Chicago!

Blader Digest: You Mean the Kid in the Helmet with the Orange Pants?

I went to an Oakland A’s game today. Way up in the nosebleeds, after the A’s failed to score a run in the second inning, one fan said, “That was a disgrace.”

It was a gorgeous day at the ballpark and the A’s were ranked 1st in the AL Western Division. The game had barely begun, the Tigers hadn’t scored either, and this guy way up in the cheap seats had already seen enough to be disgruntled. The A’s fielding hadn’t consisted of a single error, but a few at bats that put a few balls in a couple of Tigers’ gloves and this guy had already had enough.

Seven innings later, complete with two with two home runs and a grand slam in the eighth, Oakland walked away with a 10-0 win against the Tigers.

It seems that a certain fan projected his disgust a little to early in the game. You know, short-sightedness. We’re all victim to it once in a while or sooner than later.

While I’m not the first person to ever use a baseball analogy, and I’ll never be the last, this fits in perfectly to the sentiment of some regarding a certain rollerblader from Atlanta.

In case you haven’t heard (or didn’t see it coming since Valo V), David Sizemore has joined the ranks of the Valo pro team, something that hasn’t been bestowed on a skater since Victor Arias in like, what, 2010?

So it’s 2014 and now we can all agree that David Sizemore is a good skater.

I’ll say it now as I did five years ago for ONE Magazine: I’m a fan of David Sizemore. Big fan.

I’ve always loved what he’s brought to the sport not just in talent, but in enthusiasm and weirdness. And he hasn’t failed to surprise in any performance since then, whether contest, clip, or section.

He is, after all, the People’s Champion, something he earned during the WRS Uploaded contest in 2012, in which he essentially fakie 360 drops a Trade Center tower’s worth of stairs faster than an airplane:

But since he started popping up on the scene in the earlier years (I noticed him when he started shredding up the Windy City Riot in Chicago), he looked a little weird.

I mean, c’mon, a helmet? Orange pants?

Then again, give the man a couple of minutes and he’ll recognize his “mistakes”:

Still, he kept at it and continued ripping in the usual spots.

Sizemore has had many fans over the years, but he’s also had many dumbasses who had to focus on pretty meaningless factors, like what clothes he wore or how many times he could rotate in a circle. Then, after ditching the helmet—much to the admiration of the digital blading fashion awareness outlets—rollerblading trolls lost a lot of ammo.

It’s as if…

He strapped bald eagles to his feet, made himself a cape out of an American flag, and rose out of the south like they always said they would.

Sizmore kills it, much as he has for year. And to bring the Oakland analogy home, he killed the Oakland Blade Jam last year, as I hope he does again July 26th this year:

Fuck, man, could you imagine, all those years ago, when Sizemore was just a teen, that some of us could be guilty of a snap judgement based on a few immediate factors before us without seeing the final score, much like our disgruntled friend in the cheapest of cheap seats.

(A baseball player, Scott Sizemore, played for the Tigers and the A’s, so the analogy works, thank you very much.)

Sure, you can sit back with perfected 20/20 hindsight and take credit by saying, in some pompous way, Well, if we didn’t teach him a lesson then, he might have kept doing things we don’t like. Honestly, I reject that logic because it’s the same rationale used by people who beat their kids.

And since the majority of us were able to watch a young dude start whomping comps to Rollerblade to WRS Uploaded to him being nothing but a little fuck who does curb stalls, the move does make sense.

Or, as Papa Jon Valo put it:

It was only a matter of time.

All anyone asks is that the next time you feel like “voicing your opinion” about some stupid shit about a person—like their clothes or chosen protective equipment during the fundamental neurological developmental years—shut the fuck up. Really, it does nothing good.

Sure, offer pointers, tips, and suggestions, but keep it constructive. Rollerblading isn’t short of people willing to talk some serious shit, but we can never be short of honest constructive criticism meant to build a person up, not break them apart.

God knows rollerblading has enough of an online fashionista police, but you don’t have to be assholes about it. Really, you don’t. There’s no law that says simply because you have fingers, a keyboard, and internet access that you have to cut people down early.

Besides, you’d need a fuck load more than ten fingers to count the people who stopped pushing themselves and our sport simply because people online would puncture holes in everything like a baby-eyed girlfriend with a condom and a needle.

I hate to preach, but think of all the unjustified online hate that’s circulated around for no reason other than someone’s “standards” or “opinions.” That includes mine.

I’m really proud of David, as I’m sure are all the guys who have been shredding with him since his earliest days, like the ATL crew and beyond.

Cheers, David, and congrats on the much-earned pro status. Really looking forward to what you put out next.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S.—My third novel, Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story, just came out. Look for it at the best skate shops in the world—Aggressive Mall, Intuition, The Pull—or at a bookstore near year.

It was written, designed, illustrated, assembled, packaged, and shipped by bladers. Can’t beat that for $15.

Blader Digest: Books, Beers & Blades

Nearly six weeks ago, I put together a list of 10 books every guy should read. But in the tradition of bullshit that are list stories, I didn’t read one of them. It was The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I finally read it.

It’s an odd book, which is why it continues to attract such an eclectic audience. I first heard about it from B. Free, a black hippie rollerblader from Texas, and received a copy as a gift from my dad, who watches Fox News, reads Bill O’Reilly, and listens to Rush Limbaugh too much.

The resounding message of the fable is chasing your “Personal Legend.” Essentially, it was fulfilling a destiny of greatness, should you choose to pursue it by paying attention to the signs around you.

I’m trying to do that more often now.

My first writing job was writing obituaries for a daily newspaper in Winona, Minn. Every night, after classes, I’d write a free blurb about someone’s life, or retype whatever some casket salesman wrote at the behest of the grieving. Either way, I was in charge of typing out the legacy of school teachers, housewives, or insurance salesmen.

Doing that, while taking classes concerning what I’d do for the rest of my life, had a profound effect on my life.

Like most things, I Didn’t realize it at the time.

Essentially, I want to create a life that will hopefully make for an entertaining obituary. It’s like a Personal Legend (much, much more self-serving), especially as someone who hopes to be remembered by the words he’ll leave behind.

I call The Alchemist odd because you can read it at many different points in your life and  find something different each time. This time around, this is what sticks with me:

“… there was a language in the world that everyone understood… the language of enthusiasm, of things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search for something believed in and desired.”

I’ve heard that language before. I’ve heard it in friends fulfilling their dreams, chasing what they believe to know to be true. I’ve heard it spoken by those unaffected by the obstacles in life. I’ve heard it among those who have since died testing its limits.

And, in case I didn’t bug you enough to get the money to do it, I’m about do do something like it this summer. I’m traveling the continental U.S. to spread the word about my writing. To me, there’s no way I can fail. The day I drive away from my parents’ house in Wisconsin in a truck I’ve never driven and head for the second tour stop, I’ve already won.

If The Alchemist and other books like it, as well as 32 years of personal experience, have taught me anything, it’s that the only way to truly fail is to never try.

So I’m going to give it my all.

But I’m dreaming big.

Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

While I’m slinging books harder than a 1980s Times Square hooker’s hoochie, I’ll need a way to fill in the blanks.

As long as I’m dumb enough to attempt to sell printed books in the second decade of the 21st Century, I’ll take the rest of the lunacy with me: I’ll rollerblade and write about it along the way.

But since my parents shelled out more than $25,000 for me to get a degree in journalism, I might as well put that to use as well.

I want to really take a good honest look at the stories of the bladers I’ll be hanging out with along the way. When they skate, where they skate, how much they skate.

I want to tell the story about the current state of American blading.

I’m not exactly sure what that means completely, but I don’t want to waste any aspect of this kind of opportunity, one I may not ever have again.

I want to write about blading like I did for Shred ‘Til You’re Dead II. If you read it and thought I was on the trip, I wasn’t. I did a lot of homework for that thing. But now I get to do a blading-ish road trip across a country that used to be free because people used to be brave.

I’m not out to get clips (nor would you want to see them). I’m out to see what’s really going on, beyond the comments, likes, retweets, and whatever Rollernews calls news.

And please, Other Parts of the World, don’t take any offense. It isn’t about any ‘Mericuh vs. The World, although we are back-to-back World War champs. It’s just that I can’t drive a 15-year-old Ford Ranger to get to you and plane rides are fucking expensive.

This, to me, is about home.

It’s about America—the land I haven’t left yet—and rollerblading, the one thing in my life I’ve loved the longest. (Except for masturbating, of course.)

Call it journalism. Call it market research. Call it the only way I could afford to do something like this (Tax-deductible! Woo!). Since you all invested your hard-earned money on the Kickstarter, I vow to make the most of it. (I  ask for your support and you give me 126 percent. You rascals.)

For lack of a more endearing term, I’m calling it…

Rock Town Tour 2014: Books, Beers & Blades
(Forthcoming tour poster from Jason Reyna)

Yes, the primary goal is to travel across the country to promote my latest novel, Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story. And I’ll do it because I’m chasing the mother-fucking dream of being a writer. You know, one people have actually heard of.

And since I already have the idea for my next novel, this tour, and the experiences I have on it, will directly serve as its inspiration. So that’s good if you like my fiction writing.

But I’ll be talking with a lot of bladers and not doing something with it seems kind of stupid.

It might be a book.
It might be scene reports on here.
It might be photos and videos, if people are down.

Either way, something is going to come of it, and with your help along the way, we collectively we can put something awesome together.

Hopefully, at least, the local skaters in the cities I’ll be visiting would be kind enough to offer a little hospitality and extend a couch or backyard for my tent. Hotels are fucking expensive, too.

Then again, as long as I’m in town, let’s do a session. After six months of 15-hour days in front of a computer and the thousands of miles I’ll spend in a car, I’ll need some exercise.

After a sesh, let’s have a rest. Well, you’ll try to rest in an uncomfortable chair while I do the writer-in-public thing.

Because let’s face it, I also need butts in seats at book events, whether library, bookstore, skate shop, or bar. If you can make it out, please do. I’ll be telling stories, reading stuff—including a forthcoming piece in The Radvocate—and hopefully giving you insights into American media from someone inside it.

I’ve been to many book readings that are boring as fuck, but I’ve also seen Chuck Palahniuk do his thing. So, in the interest of trying to be dry as some intellectual fucktard, I’ll do my best to blend conspiracy theories, many themes like Joe Rogan’s podcast, and stupid things I’ve done, seen, or experienced through the years, just like my books.

And then we’ll drink some beers immediately after (at the event, if they’re cool).

So here are the 25-or-so cities I plan to visit, based on strict criteria of possibility of having an event, having a connection, or neither. Because why not:

RTT14:BB&B…

Wisconsin Rapids, WI (June 5, McMillan Memorial Library, the one I learned to read at. Then Mom’s throwing me a party)
Minneapolis, MN (College buddies and bladers? We’re going to jail)
Winona, MN (Home to back cover quote author Prof. John Vivian)
Davenport, IA (Midwest Writing Center, Iowat?!)
Rock Island, IL (June 13, Icons. My Cheers)
Chicago, IL (The Pull)
Columbus, OH (Home to book designer Brandon Ballog)
Pittsburgh, PA (Bruce, where you buy your books?)
New York City, U.S.A (Fish, Franco, Elijah, Jenna, etc.)
Boone, NC (Home to fellow blade writer/The Radvocate contributor Thomas Martin)
Augusta/Atlanta, GA (Looking at you, Dirty)
Orlando, FL: (/r/rollerblading’s gonna make it happen)
New Orleans, LA (Put something together, Thomas)
Austin, TX (Frank Stoner owns the word scene down there)
Tulsa, OK (Rumors are I’m taking the stage with skateboarder Clay)
KCMO (Because AJ)
Omaha, NE (Call people, Buller)
Denver, CO (Stang’s going to make it happen)
Salt Lake City, UT (Opalek and Tiff are driving down)
Ketchum, ID (Hey Mark Zuckerberg, can I stay at your ski cabin?)
Missoula, MT (Camping in Cameron’s backyard again!)
Seattle, WA (home to cover artist Kyler Martz)
Portland, OR (Amir is my Spirit Animal)
San Francisco Bay Area, CA (JSF)
Bakersfield, CA (Intuition, of course)
Santa Ana, CA (I’m inviting myself over, Julios)

While The Alchemist told me about my Personal Legend, reading Hunter Thompson told me the journey is much more fascinating than the destination.

Your books will be in the mail in the next few weeks.

I’ll be on the road before I’m ready for it.

Thanks again, everyone. See you all soon.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — You should order a copy of my new book. It’s my best yet. If I can’t convince you here, come to a reading. If I can’t convince you there, then it wasn’t meant to be.

You can pre-order a copy of Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story from me via Rock Town Press’ Big Cartel Site. Happy reading.

Blader Digest: God Bless Americana

Y’all seen that new Shredwesier shit? You better have at least heard of it otherwise, well, sorry about your head injury that put you into a coma for so long. Here’s a glimpse of what you missed:

ORDER “SHREDWEISER AMERICAN TOUR” DIRECT FROM DAFICK.

But if you didn’t back it via Kickstarter and feel the need for some freshies in your life, drop the Americana Tour in your cart at you favorite skate shop. If they don’t carry it, get a new shop.

Me, I loved the damn thing. From title sequence to credits. The Shredweiser boys are America, plain and simple.

Since I don’t pirate blade videos—you know, like a fuck-head does—you’ll have to suffer through my text-based review of what the guys put together.

Shall we get started?

When you press play, you’re greeted with an MGM logo remakes with the team mascot, Steve Gasstation, and an intro of VHS quality scenery to Sergio Leone, following quickly to a pain-, weed-, and boob-filled montage of the awesomeness that’s soon to come.

This would be the point you’ll want popcorn.

The adventure begins out of Home Sweet Home Oakland, Calif. And those guys, whether Spaniards or Alabamians, tore this town a new asshole, just as they’ve been doing since their planes landed.

Should you want to see more shredding from Billy O’Neill, Matty Schrock, Marc Moreno, Brian Bina and the rest, follow along as our eager travelers head north where you’ll find school roof lines with Erik Bailey, fun times trimming medical marijuana, and more roof gaps and rail transfers than Big Foot could take a shit on.

Oh, cowboy boots are the new Soap Shoes and zero AO top soul down a kink rail is a thing again, so get with the program.

The grittier the Better!

From there, it’s some double rail bashing with the likes of John Bolino and Kruise Sapstein before segueing into granulated footage of passing roads before abruptly crashing at Slab City, a legendary migratory village where summers are hell and winters are close to heaven, a perfect repository for our wanderlusting clumps of scar tissue.

After a brief bit of respite in the makeshift skate park, we travel deeper south into red rock and unforgiving, yet skateable, landscape of the southwest. If Florida is America’s dick, Arizona is it’s swollen anal polyp, mainly because both are red and live in crevices.

But if it’s red and smells like an asshole, you’re in Las Vegas. And that’s where everyone, including local Tony Rivituso, lets it all ride on some promiscuous use of ditch ledges made of, and surrounded by, skin-clearing ditch concrete. But Seba, with his twist on a back backslide from rail to drop into a bank, well…

Shit. I have to watch it a few more times to wonder how he thought, “This spot? That trick? Fuck it! It makes sense.”

Then Bolino has his ender, which is just so gloriously Bolino.

And it’s all done as an ongoing tribute to Brandon Negrete.

Support your local ‘Weiser!

I credit those guys for a lot of things they don’t get enough credit for. I lived with them for a week to do a magazine piece on them. It’ll need a revision, but it reflects the atmosphere at that point in time.

The amount of talent that lived under that roof in do-or-die fashion was intense and they were part of a large migration to the promised land of California like so many other rollerbladers before them.

It’s those and so many other reasons that I believe the Shredweiser guys continue to earn the respect needed to be supported by their peers. Some people may not like what they’re saying, but they’re writing an entertaining chapter in rollerblading history.

Original art by Austin Barrett

They’re built on heart, passion, and pride. They just so happen to be very fucking loud with it. They’re good dudes, but you wouldn’t want to fuck with them for no reason on a Saturday night. They don’t feel pain like most people do.

And there’s a hell of a lot more of them besides skating. Dafick is running the business side of Shredweiser to keep the party going. Billy is co-owner of Create Originals, which their new frame is going to change shit up. Austin Barrett is now a professional tattoo artist.

Hell, Kyle Lypka had his first opening reception as a ceramic artist last Friday at Roscoe Ceramic Gallery during Oakland’s Art Murmur. And his work isn’t themed around Lisa Frank and My Little Pony:

And watching this video, especially as someone who readily backed the idea on Kickstarter, only juices me up even more to see where they’ll all go.

Kickstarting the Blade Economy

Besides a skate video, our backing money funded something before it happened, instead of forcing athletes and friends to attempt to make up the money after. We helped build that experience, but they were the ones to have the balls to step forward with the idea.

AJ was the first to Kickstart a blade project and he made good on his promises. He provided such a good model that it was easy to build from. CO had a HUGE Kickstarter goal—the largest independent fundraising in blading’s history—and met it because they’re skaters, so they know where people in the industry can invest, but also because they’re strong-minded businessmen who want to put out a good product.

There’s a shift happening. Maybe non-skate brand videos will be funded by the people, and if internet comments have taught me anything, the quality better be pretty fucking high. If the track record for blade projects backed, it has been. Americana is no different.

Hell, you all funded my Kickstarter and mine was directly inspired from AJ, CO, and Shredweiser. More importantly, all those guys serve as good inspiration to get off your ass and do something. The support of those involved show it can be done.

At least that’s what I heard and that’s why I’m quitting my job (most likely temporarily) to end five years of car-less living by living out of a truck for three months while I attempt to tell as many people as I can that my writing doesn’t suck. So thanks, everyone. More on that later.

And like Dafick and the other Shredweiser boys, rollerblading has funded a chance to do something else besides sit at a desk and meander through office politics.

Sounds like a good time to me.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — Now that Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story is finished, you Kickstarting fools will be getting some presents in the mail soon. If you didn’t order it and want it, pre-order it direct from me and I’ll autograph the fuck out of it for you. I’ll be letting you Americans know what’s up with the tour next.

10 Books for the Introspective Modern Man Who Doesn’t Read

Not too long ago I had the opportunity to meet a great man. He’s died since then, but his impact on the world he inhabited for 93 years continues to spread his legacy: from advances in scientific research, inquisitions into the English language, and a foundation in a family that does not fault.

But in meeting a man like that—especially as I am just over a third his age—begs one question: how do you live so long? He wasn’t vegan, and he didn’t shy away from booze, but the thing that kept him going, surviving like our DNA demands, was curiosity. James A. Fisher never stopped learning.

Before you could search the expansive database of human knowledge from a device that fits in your pocket, you had to look things up manually. That included books, dictionaries, encyclopedias, and the telephone directory.

But those were Fisher’s tools. He was known to pour over a dictionary to ensure words were being used correctly. And that’s admirable, especially to someone who uses words as currency.

That insatiable curiosity, a yearning to explore the weird experiment of humanity, means always considering yourself a student.

And being a lifelong learner is something we all should aspire to be.

But with college prices at levels that could bankrupt you quicker than a broken leg, if you’re in your 30s you better have a job contract signed if you think of going back to school.

Or you can become a Renaissance Man on your own.

It’s an antiquated term rarely used anymore, but it means a lot, and that’s what it means to be a modern man.

You have to know how to change a tire and write in HTML. You have to know how to make a good campfire, as well as know that stinky cheese doesn’t pair well with a pungent wine. You have to know how to render duck fat, iron a shirt, use a Skilsaw, compose a sentence properly, and do a backflip within 10 minutes.

Nick Offerman recently gave Conan his tips on being a man, which included bullshit things like I just listed off, but at the end, he made his point:

But if you want to be one of those men, just like I do, then you have to commit yourself to reading. You can debate me all you want on this, but there’s enough science out there to make me faithful enough to say reading books makes you a better person.

You won’t make it to 93 by working a day job that doesn’t challenge you followed by nights digesting YouTube, Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime. If the demise of Flappy Birds left a hole in your heart, try filling it it Kurt Vonnegut.

Don’t get me wrong. I was also that guy who nodded off reading Jane Eyre in a Catholic high school and spent decades looking for the right books, the ones that would shape the foundation of how I’d live my life.

Here are 10 book I recommend every modern man should read before he’s done making up his mind about life, especially if he knows he should read more, but doesn’t like reading.

1. Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

The narrator goes from a state of victim-hood via pretending to have multiple chronic illnesses protected by anonymity, to a state of fabricated freedom, to the ultimatum of recklessness to responsibility. And, just like the movie, it so famously begins with a needed punch to the face.

If you liked the movie, you’ll love the book. I do. Shit changed my life and for the better.

2. Hatchet by Gary Paulsen

If you need a reason to embrace the importance of survival, this book will sell you on plenty of them. An inspiration to anyone who likes the outdoors, this book is about taking what little you have now and building it into something that’ll keep you kicking through tomorrow.

Read about a kid with a hatchet dealing with a single-engine plane crash in the Canadian outback, and asking your boss for a raise won’t seem so scary.

3. In Dubious Battle by John Steinbeck

You may not have heard about this John Steinbeck novel in high school, but if you work for a living, you can relate to what Tory Treseder’s doppleganger has to say. The story follows a few men through a picker’s strike in California during the Great Depression. And no one is going to try to fight back against the Powers That Be quite like guys without a pot to piss in or a warm meal in his belly. Word is they can get quite ornery at times.

4. The Last Night of the Earth Poems by Charles Bukowski

Good ol’ Uncle Chuck Bukowski was an asshole. But, in being the asshole a blue-collar man could relate to, he also crafted some poetry perfect for the man that doesn’t gravitate towards poetry, like me. If you’re working a job that puts sweat on your brow, Bukowski, in this collection, has something to say to you.

5. Another Bullshit Night in Suck City By Nick Flynn

You think you have issues with your dad? Take a number because Nick Flynn met his abusive father (years after his mother’s suicide) while Daddy Dearest is a guest at the homeless shelter the author works at. Flynn’s way with words eases the sting of it all, but it’s a punch in the gut nonetheless.

6. The Dragons of Eden By Carl Sagan

Carl Sagan is most famous for his TV series The Cosmos, which is now being continued thanks to Seth McFarlane and Neil degrasse Tyson. But this book can help provide perspective on how man, as a bigger brained species, came to be. It’s not something we think about enough and this book will put knowledge in your head you won’t ever be able to get out.

7. Hell’s Angels By Hunter Thompson

A young Hunter Thompson capable of making enough mistakes that the adult version would be too wise to make. The Hell’s Angels. The 1960s.

It’s a ride, and Dr. Thompson always told us to buy the ticket.

8. The Road by Cormac McCarthy

A fire wipes out everything in sight—an analogy that shouldn’t be ignored by men who still hold passion in their hearts—and a man leads his son through what’s left of the world. While fire destroyed everything, he still tells his son to carry the fire. While avoiding cannibals, of course.

Read this book and become a different person.

9. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This is the only book on the list I haven’t read, but I’ve heard enough about it from B. Free to know that I won’t be complete until I read it. The author believe in his message enough that he didn’t accept rejection from publishers and set out on his own, making it a cult classic and best seller in the process.

10. Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

You wouldn’t think that being the Emperor of Rome weighs heavy on a man, but apparently shit can get a little heavy occasionally. Considering the author lived a century or two before Jesus was born, you would think he’s out of touch, but he’s not. The best part of his journal entries is that he, the ruler of the world, struggled with putting up with himself to sleep calmly at the end of the day.

None of us may be emperors, but we know how to lose some sleep.

These are merely suggestions. Read what you want. Believe what you want. But don’t ever give up trying to learn something new. You’ll live longer and become a better person in the process.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — In case I haven’t bothered you enough already, I’m Kickstarting my next book, Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story. As of this writing, thanks to many awesome people, I’m funded to 118 percent. If you want to join, your support is welcome.

Blader Digest: So Long, and Thanks for Everything, Fish.

If you’ve got a Billy O’Neill pro anything—skate, wheel, frame, etc.—hold onto that shit because they won’t be making anymore.

At the age of 30, on Wednesday, Feb. 19, 2014, Billy “Fish” O’Neill announced via Facebook that he would be retiring from professional rollerblading.

After a lifetime of showing rollerblading how big gaps can be and how good you should make them look, the Staten Island Shredder is hanging up in pro boots for a life less complicated.

Earlier this week, Billy spent a little bit of his free time to answer a couple of questions.

‘Respect the game’

BK: What does not being pro mean for you?

Fish: Essentially it means I’m not obligated to produce content, nor am I confined to using certain sponsors’ products.

BK: So you’re essentially going back to where you started…blading because you love it?

Fish: Exactly.

BK: What brought about the decision?

Fish: There were a lot of contributing factors. For one, I never wanted to be a pro that lingered after their prime. I never liked that. Another one is, at my age (just turned 30) I felt for the first time ever that my commitment to professional blading was doing more harm to my personal life than good. But the main one is, my goals have changed as I aged and I want different things out of life. I felt like the only way to achieve these goals is to totally detach myself from the professional end of blading. I will always blade forever…it is a huge part of what defines me as a person, but I mentally needed some distance from the “industry” end of it.

BK: While not being pro, you still going to be part of CO and SSM?

Fish: I’m going to maintain my ownership at CO and I will still be involved over there, but other than that, I have no other commitments any longer.

BK: You still repping Shredweiser though, right?

Fish: Shredweiser to me is just friends, so yea, all those guys are still my friends. Chris (Dafick) kills it, I really like the direction he’s going with everything.

BK: Word. So the big question: what are you up to next?

Fish: Probably porn.

Honestly, I’m not sure the answer to that. I will work. Try to get comfortable. Find a suitable mate. Hopefully reproduce. Grow up… I mean, I don’t have an exact plan on how to achieve that, but I got the hard part down… knowing what I want.

BK: Always good to know to know what you want. All those years bouncing around, traveling, and blading help in your decision to go for—for lack of a better word—a little stability?

Fish: Totally man. I’ve been a pirate since the day I was born. That’s all I knew how to be and in blading, I was rewarded for this behavior. I have Peter Pan syndrome. I didn’t wanna grow up and I still don’t. I’ve been fighting adulthood with everything in me for years. I had a long run and a great time. I know the pro blade life, inside and out… Now, I wanna know what the other side of life is like.

BK: If one of your kids wants to grow up and be a pro rollerblader, would you encourage or discourage it?

Fish: I would encourage them to do anything that makes them happy. Period.

BK: What about gay rodeo clown?

Fish: If it makes them happy, I’d support it. Very dangerous career choice though, but if that’s what they want.

BK: So, while you search for your homestead, where you at now?

Fish: I’m back in NYC. Staten Island to be exact

BK: You think you’ll be there for a while? You doing the Invite again?

Fish: Yeah, I wanna stay here for a bit, I like it here. About the Invite, I want to do another… we’ll see

BK: Any parting thoughts?

Fish: Maybe just some advice to young bladers from an old man… respect the game.

A Dual-Coasted Legend

Forged harder than the steel in the Empire State Building, Billy O’Neill is New York City’s Prodigal son, forever returning from the ashes of major injury to prove that skating has new areas to explore.

From birth on the Brooklyn Banks, Billy has always found a new challenge and never once convinced himself it wasn’t worth the risk. Because of and with him, street skating has progressed to death-defying levels and reborn everyday at dawn after many late hours spent in celebration.

Of his skates, Billy is a philosopher, musician, and possesses the cunning charm bestowed to world travelers. Figured in with his athletic prowess, the man can only be classified under “Enigma.”

While gone from New York for a while, he was in Oakland with the rest of his Shredweiser family. If it wasn’t Oakland or New York, he traveled the world, making video sections that have been re-watched until the DVD is burned blank.

Even his last edit proved that pro or not, the Peter Pan syndrome will always bring him back and we’ll always learn something new every time he does.

I’m really glad Billy and I had the opportunity to become friends. From holding the hash pipe for me while getting my “Blade or Die” tattoo while interviewing Bolino at the Shredweiser house to late-hour conversations about anything from philosophy to women.

In the end, Bill not only excelled at skating, but he knew how to make sure to have a good time. I think the decision will be good for him, allow him to ease up, and see what’s next for him. Whatever he chooses, he’s destined to be damn good at it.

So long, and thanks for everything, Fish.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — While Fish may be ready to settle down, I have some traveling to do to promote my writing. So I’m bugging you guys, my sponsors, to fund it. The majority—75%—is funded, but just like trying to eat an entire pizza yourself, the last quarter is always the hardest.

Check out the Kickstarter for my next novel, Assault Rifles & Pedophiles: An American Love Story.

Fish read my books. You should, too.

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