Brian Krans's Blog, page 20

Blader Digest: Blading in Your Face

Cruising around San Francisco, you'll see some weird shit. It's actually the only reason why anyone would build a city on such hilly terrain: you can get some good views of all said weird shit.

The weirdest—WEIRDEST—thing I've been seeing a lot more of these days looks something like this:

Every time I blade to work (which has been nearly everyday thanks to this complete lack of winter), I keep seeing more and more recreational bladers hauling their way through the city, many using them for their morning work commute.

Besides other cubicle slaves like me, there are more people cruising around Golden Gate Park on the weekends, people blading up and down the Embarcadero, and more.

While this may seem like trivial information, you have to think of we bladers as a species on the brink of extermination and each and every non-aggressive skater as a sign of hope that our species will survive.

Sure, some of them are so spandex-clad they look like these ladies blading in Iran (via the Atlantic), but we still love them nonetheless.

Now, I've written about the rise of the rollerblader before, but the recent evidence of seeing people on blades makes me believe that a new wave of interest in rollerblading is on its way.

This is important because people aren't seeing the "rollerblading is gay" stereotype perpetuated by some skateboarders and bikers, but rather they're seeing it for what it is: a cheap, easy, and athletic way to get around the city. Yes, I realize this is San Francisco and people can do some weird shit here (see the SHOCK Video for examples of this), but I'm smelling a trend.

First off, let's take a look at Hollywood, the land of bullshit imagery and dying dreams. There, behind the scenes, blading is being used for something that some of us are used to doing on the weekends with our homies: the follow-cam.

Apparently on the set of Crank High Voltage, co-director Mark Neveldine (who is also directing the newest Ghost Rider movie with Nic Cage {which causes me to shudder in fear}) uses skates to skitch and film:

The director admits that using his hockey skates is the only way to achieve the shots he wants for his multi-million-dollar movies. As we all know, it's this style of filming that keeps getting veteran and legend Vinny Minton repeated business on shows like CSI and House.

Yeah, blading might not be part of the main feature, but it's still  pretty dope.

Then there's a small group of dedicated people who are working on (still, I believe) on a project to get Brian "B. Free" Freeman his own TV that focuses on his travels on blades in a TV show that may/would have/could be called Rolling With the World:

But besides movies and TV, blades made a recent appearance on a television commercial featuring one of the NBA's best rookies of all time, L.A. Clipper Blake Griffin.

Yeah, it may not seem like a big deal, but you don't see that guy on a skateboard, bike, scooter, or pogo stick. Blades, mother fucker. Blades.

The Taig Khris-like Superman dive was also nice as well.

Then there's also the time someone took to make Brink 2: Val's Revenge, a satire follow-up to the Disney movie that most of us know by heart. Sure, it's mocking skating, but if I've learned anything in my life it's that if someone takes their time to mock or talk shit about you, you're important enough to have their attention:

Then a few weeks back Funny or Die made the exclusive video poking fun not only at blading (maybe, I don't know if that counts) and 1990s movies by coming up with Knight Blade, a story too much like Robocop and the Six Million Dollar Man for my personal tastes. I'm kidding. This skit is awesome, especially since it includes Ray Wise from Robocop:

Check out Adrian Ramos' stunt work. When not shredding ditches for Funny or Die, he's working for them. All baller things.

And remember, Ray Wise was in Robocop, which also starred an actor named Brandon Smith, which took place in Detroit, where the Bitter Cold Showdown continues to be, so if that isn't one long rollerblading circlejerk, I don't know what one would be (nor would I want to see or hear about it).

Also, unrelated to everything else except for rollerblading, there's this on FunnyorDie as well…

I know all of this may seem like a jumbled mess of shit from the internet (and it mostly is), but these images of rollerblading are getting more commonplace than anything else.

Dudes holding onto motorcycles to film Jason Statham, pro basketball players posing as Evil Knievel on blades, and a short on Funny or Die, are going to be stoking the memorial fires insides people's heads, which could make them think, "Hmm…why don't I rollerblade anymore? I remember having fun, but then it became unpopular. Wait. Is rollerblading becoming cool again? Where are those K2 Fatties I bought 12 years ago?"

Rollerblading. It's gonna be a thing again.

Just you wait.

Oh yeah, and next time you're getting down with your lady, here's something fun to try courtesy of Urban Dictionary:

Oh, and don't forget to vote for ONE Magazine's Blader of the Year so your favorite dude can make the cover in a few months.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — Next time you order from AMall, pick up copies of my books, A Constant Suicide and Freeze Tag on the Highway in the exclusive Two-Hitter Quitter Pack, complete with books, stickers, and drugs, all you've ever wanted in life.

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Blader Digest: Best of Blading in 2011

'Twas a good year, surely it 'twas.

We had some laughs. We made some new scars.

Our hearts raced at finding new spots, and they sank when old ones were destroyed. We've made some new friends, and maybe some new bladers.

We may creak a little bit more when we wake up, but we'll keep blading because we know life would suck without it.

While we here at Blade or Die hope that you all look into 2012 with the utmost optimism, we cannot help but feel a little nostalgic this time of year and look back with happiness at the fortunate times we've had the last year.

We have nothing but cause for celebration so we'd like to honor those who have helped make it such a blessed good year with out annual awards in categories we make up every year, except for Best Facial Hair because we as men (and women who love men with decadent facial sculptures) must celebrate our evolutionary blunder to continue to grow hair on our chins in our old age, but not the part that warms and protects the most vital organ in the body.

Without further ado, here is some serious ass-kissing in the form of the…

Blade or Die's Best of Blading in 2011

(This is the part where a sexy woman in a small dress is supposed to walk over and hand me a sealed envelope, but sometimes shit just doesn't work out.)

Video of the Year: Regardless

It takes balls to have Chris Haffey as the opening section, but Brandon Negrete has those balls. And with a closer like Jon Bolino's, well, those big old balls get dipped right into your wide-agape mouth as you were mesmerized by hypnotic messages contained in this revolving disc of pure awesome.

Yes, Regardless is so good it actually tea bags you while you watch it. Despite that gross image you'll never be able to pull from your skull, Regardless is fucking rad.

There isn't one thing about the video that can be adequately described with a dated adjective or adverb. There are tons of names you recognize, some names you know better now (Chris Daffik is one of those), great art, awesome fucking tunes, and more.

Regardless celebrates the fuck out of street skating, which made for an awesome premiere when it ran after the park-only Shred 'Til You're Dead II.

Regardless features the best of blading. From Haffey's large-scale perfect tricks to the Elvis-hip powered switch-ups from Andrew Jacuzzi, with a stop for Erik Bailey's compact power that makes a garbage truck look like a bitch, the talent in both the skating and the filmmaking is nice enough to give your eyeballs a hand job (also known as a hand jiggy or hando in some circles) while it drops nut in your mouth.

If you haven't bought Regardless yet, dot it. Regardless is the video you must have on your shelves.

(Note: As of this writing I have not seen The Ground Control Video. If anyone wants to send this poor bastard a copy to review, I am more than happy to oblige.)

Then again, I cannot mention videos this year without mentioning The SHOCK Video (which I previously reviewed here). Not only was the video so fucking sick, but now I might have to testify in criminal court regarding the San Francisco Police Department's on-going practices on disregarding witness statements when filing criminal charges because of events that conspired in the aftermath of the premiere, details of which I've been advised not to discuss.

You can't get anymore fucking WESTSIDE than that.

Edit of the Year: Richie Eisler

Not only is Richie Eisler filming all of the time (including filming and editing a contender for edit of the year by one Dominic Sagona), he's also fucking shredding.

A force behind the Powerblading movement, Richie mixed some big-wheeled tricks with some fucked-up Mushroom blading shit, all while hauling balls.

The intro section of falls wasn't cliche because it was broken up with the humorous sights of him light-heartedly laughing his way repeatedly into the fountain. It told me right from the beginning that the edit was going to be a fast-paced fun romp on blades, instead of some "epic" or some slow-motion emo shit show.

But we should expect none of that from Richie, a man called "arguably the nicest guy in rolling."

As far as the artistic aspects, the music fit, the slow-motion wasn't overused (unlike a nauseatingly disturbing trend currently in many edits), and the order of the tricks kept progressing nicely.

As far as the technical aspects go, I don't know any of that shit nor do I care. The final product was beautiful and Richie's skills are amazing. That's all that really matters.

For more on Richie, check out richieeisler.com.

Best Facial Hair: Jeff Stockwell

Looking those silken threads of wonder weave their way so effortless across his face to form a hair bridge from manliness to god-like proportions, just like Jeff Stockwell does to a backyard pool in his latest edit for his latest Xsjado skate.

(Note: If Edit of the Year was judged merely on style points, that edit would have won based on the skating and motif.)

Jeff's mustache could be cast in the lead role of a Tarantino gunslinger movie and its only worth co-star would be a mean, diamond-studded revolver temptress set on revenge.

Best New Company: Shima Skate Manufacturing

From the ashes of Nimh, Shima Skate Manufacturing rose to a near glorious Phoenix. While the product is nearly identical, SSM did what few failed skate companies did to their followers: it didn't leave them hanging.

They captured the Shredwiser spilling-Bud-and-blood spirit in John Bolino, Matty Schrock, Joey Chase, and Michael Braud; the creativity of Oli Short and Mathieu  Ledoux; the infectious brotherhood of Bolino and Montre Livingstong; the novelty of two—count 'em two—sets of brothers in the Brierleys and Isaacs; a diverse international team; and the leading status of Brian Shima, himself.

SSM packed together a badass, young motorcycle gang looking to fuck some shit up and have a beer truck worth of style while they do it. (However, no matter what anyone builds, JSF will always be the Hell's Angels of rollerblading.)

Adding to SSM's badassery is its paid homage to some founding fathers of modern rollerblading. The five members of the SSM Godfather team—Fabrice Guyont, Brandon Campbell, Tory Treseder, BJ Bernhart, and blading's orginal bad ass Josh Petty—exemplify the nodded-head to those who have bruised before us.

(Check out The SHOCK Video for a section of SSM Godfather B.J. Bernhart.)

Again, and this needs to be pointed out, they've got Matty Schrock, who is the rawest dude to ever legally sell me weed.

If you deny any bit of how fucking hardcore Matty is, just look at what SSM teammate Joey Chase (a man I easily voted as the Blader I Least Want to Be in a Fight With) had to say about him: "I have seen this man take some of the hardest falls and get right up and lace the trick. He is the hybrid of Rob Thompson and Charles Dunkle."

Yeah, that's going to be a fucking dope team video.

Best Versatile Skating Product: Bulletprufe Jeans

If you fall like a garbage bag full of hot shit like me, you'll learn to fuck up some clothing pretty quickly.

The name Bulletprufe speaks for itself. They're one of the few skate jeans I've owned where I can fall repeatedly and still have a pair of jeans decent enough to wear to my day job. The seams and the fabric can take a good, overweight, old-man concrete slapping and still be worth a damn.

I only offer this award because of my personal experience with these jeans. I paid full price for the jeans and consider it the best purchase of the year that didn't attach to my feet. The compliments I get from women don't go unnoticed as well.

The guy who runs the shit, Will, has some damn good customer service to boot. (That's a pun, bitch!)

Hardest Working Man in Blading: Jon Julio

Not gonna lie, stole this bitch right from Don Bambrick off Facebook. Hope you don't mind, Don.

Julio does work. Like shitloads of it.

Despite running Valo, TheM Goods Distribution and bearing company, still testing wheels for Dyna, filming for edits and the upcoming FiVe, being a married man, and still managing to be close to home for his family in the Bay Area after relocating from Southern California, Jon also started The Youth Co. (which has yet to be announced as what it actually is), organized the Blader Cup, and developing Jon Julio's Blading: The Game, an upcoming iPhone game.

I'm sure I probably missed other things, but you get the point.

With Jon's duties, in 2011 Valo released the long-awaited Valo Lights and recently in a black and red colorway, making these the umpteeth million pro skates Jon has had in his second decade as a professional rollerblader.

The dude is an icon and continues to work his ass off.

Best Blading-Related Softcore Porn Site: BladeorFuckorDrink

When Adam Johnson isn't touring the country—and even when he is—is compiling a neverending Tumblr feed of softcore porn known as bladesbabesbooze.tumblr.com.

A sister to his vandownbytheriver.tumblr.com (which also has its fair share of the tit-tays), Johnson doesn't post much about blading or even booze, but damn there are a lot of babes.

Still, if you're Tubling, you need to follow both of AJ's accounts because while one shows you images captured of beautiful, Photoshopped-perfect, young women brazen (or stupid) to pose in front of a camera for money, his other feed emphasizes the difficulty of life when you try to balance what you love and still chase those lovelies.

The Babes show a longing for the mystic company of an exotic woman, while the Van bares the open scars of the reality of attempting to make them happy.

Here are some examples:

It's exciting, depressing, shallow, deep, and extremely therapeutic.

Skater of the Year: Brian Aragon

Brian Aragon hasn't failed to produce quality shit for a long damn time. His smooth, athletic ability to know exactly where he is at all times is both the source of envy and drives his uncanny ability to 540 into any grind.

Aragon, while influenced by many before him, ushered in a new generation of clean-cut spinning tops, thus shaping the competitive blading landscape forever.

However, it wasn't his impressive trophy collection—enough to put him on top of the World Rolling Series bracket yet again this year—that made him skater of the year, it was his street skating abilities in the form of this edit:

The WRS Uploaded contest only confirmed what everyone knows: Aragon fucking shreds.

His edit, though, really surprised me. All of the mind-boggling huge spins he does consistently became his trademark and what everyone expects from his skating, but when going after the WRS he was both brave and smart to go against it while still laying down some monstrous tricks.

He was more airs and big spins when he dominated over the spine to win the Blader Cup, but I think Aragon is about to surprise everyone even further if he follows down the path of diversity.

And not to mention he beat Chris Haffey at B.L.A.D.E.

Owns the Year: Chris Haffey

Like Aragon, Haffey could have won Skater of the Year every year. He did last year, at least in my book.

However, Chris owned 2011. He really did. Broke a world record, made the gigantic Staples Center ledge even more his bitch in his WRS Uploaded edit, had some great sections in Charg!ng and Regardless, did some more Nitro Circus shit, and still had time to play his extremely talented homies in S.K.A.T.E., which made for some very fucking entertaining content on his personal website, chrishaffey.com.

But since he's the best rollerblader ever—ever—it's as if the expectations of his greatness are so high that he'd have

Chris is—unlike a satirical column several weeks ago that a depressing amount of people actually took seriously asserts—Chris is perpetually awesome. His talent is immense and diverse (despite he openly admits he can only look over one shoulder), his humor and inability to take himself seriously are heroic, and his self-regulated personal standards as an athlete and human being are admirable.

The fact that he does this consistently gives him the honor to own the year. That's right, 2011 was the Year of the Superman.

Like his bossman AJ says…

Scene of the Year: Barcelona

Deny it all you want, but there has always been an extremely huge rift between America and the rest of the international scene. Europeans almost always buy American skate videos, but it is a rarity to see an extensive collection of all DVDs from a year (unless you're some skate-company owning industry head or Ivan Narez) on an American's shelf. I'm one of those Americans.

But scenes coming for free online from Barcelona make it easily the best place in the world to blade.

Last year Barcelona got its own section in last year's best video, Valo 4 Life, and then this year it gets its own trailer for the upcoming Xsjado video.

It was also the scene of the best edit of the year and the epicenter of the Powerblading movement.

It is not solely on it's entirely shreddable terrain, including that which makes pros wonder why it could be created if not for blading, but also the locals, both on and off the blades. While I have never personally been, the blading and the nightlife make it a great reason to get a stamp in a passport.

Blading Website of the Year: Rollernews

Now before you go and get your tits in a twister, remember than Time Magazine has its person of the year that is judged on a varying degree of criteria, once naming Adolf Hitler and twice Josef Stalin and Richard Nixon.

We here at Blade or Die use that same criteria when announcing Rollernews is the site of the year.

So, congrats, Rollernews?

So from all of us here at Blade or Die (who happen to be on Facebook), we wish you the happiest of New Years.

See you all in 2012. The world's supposed to end and also be the year of two suns, so instead of another stupid New Year's resolution, make this last year a life resolution.

Wake up. Stop Dreaming. Get out. Chase something.

Fuck around. Get drunk. Break something.

Go without sleep. Sleep 'til noon.

Quit believing. Be your own savior.

Whatever you feel like you have to do, do it because the only thing we know for certain about life is this: it ends.

There's no point in pretending you'll grow old if you're young and making good decisions.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — I'm proud to admit the only things I want to do until I die is blade, move around, and write my fucking fingers numb reminiscing about the fun I've had and all the weird shit I've learned along the way.

Some of that is in my first book, A Constant Suicide, and more in my second, Freeze Tag on the Highway (which came out earlier this year). I'm selling them cheap because while the message is more important than the money, weed isn't free.

The publishing company I own, Rock Town Press, continues to print its books on paper along with digital publication because we believe that the physical publication of books is the perfect invention not only for its ease to publicly distribute information, but its craving to be shared with others. So if you buy our books, we encourage you to share them with your friends.

If you would like one donated to your public library so you can read it free of charge, email me the name and address of your local library at briankrans (at) gmail (dot) com and I'll personally mail them one.

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Special Report: How I Fell in Love With Blading in the 21st Century

We here at Blade or Die were starting to lose faith. Thankfully, anytime we got down our buddy Zac Hutchings would always cheer us up with funny and insightful comments.

Zac asked if he could write something for the site and, well, he fucking did. He gave us a great, heartfelt story about how he found blading, fell in love with the old girl, and wants to marry the hell out of that hot mama.  From there, he gives his honest opinion on how he, as a young newcomer, sees our industry.

When you're old men like us, or you spend more time on the internet than you do on your skates, Zac's words are awesomely pure and optimistic, just like we all were when we first started blading.

Ladies and gentleman, without further ado, Blade or Die is proud to present Mr. Zac Hutchings…

Salutations from Australia

For those who don't know me, which should be everyone, I am Zac Hutchings. I am 17 years old (nearly 18), I share a car with my older sister Kelsey, (we named it Molly) and I am in a band called Three's A Crowd…. we don't do too much. I am from the regional town of Bundaberg, quite famous for Bundy Rum, and I can safely say that I am in love……

with blading.

I love everything about rollerblading, except going to a skatepark to find hordes of douchey skateboarders, douchey BMX riders, and even douchier scooter kids.

I have just finished my last year of school and am moving off to Brisbane next year to study Sound Engineering and Film Making at SAE Institute. I spent my schoolies week on a skate trip with my good friends Scott Jarman and Samuel Willetts.

Thats really all you need to know apart from one important fact…………
I intend to devote the rest of my life to the blading community.

I have no idea how to go about that, but I am young, ambitious and have great pride for an industry that has helped shape who I am.

I originally found blading through a TV show called Air Gear in 2009. It's about this world where people have put miniaturised motors in the wheels of rollerblades and created Air Treks which are high powered skates which help people "fly higher than ever before."

I really like the show and it inspired me and a couple of friends to get into rollerblading.

To start off with, I was only skating recreational skates and just learning how to rollerblade properly whilst learning some spins and how to stop etc.. I had never heard of aggressive inline skating before and it took a few months to find out that there was such a thing. I was skating on a pair of red Mercury V's that I bought during 2009.

For a while I was just going to a local skating rink on Friday nights with friends. I then started taking a look around the youtubes for rollerblading edits and saw some pretty cool stuff.

Back then I didn't realise that there was much of a difference between my rollerblades and the ones that all the pros had. I guess what I am trying to get across here is that the market doesn't really reach out to kids like me, and that's not anybody's fault, it's just probably something to think about. Maybe the problem isn't trying to go mainstream maybe the skating community should focus on extending the small underground, alternative culture to reach out to more remote areas like Australia, New Zealand, or maybe even Antarctica, I hear there's some pretty crazy penguins doing some crazy shit down there.

Continuing on, these videos inspired me and I started going to skate parks.

I had a fatal accident on Christmas day 2009, well it wasn't that fatal I was just trying to do some half pipe stuff in recreational skates and realised pretty quickly that a heel stop on my skates wasn't a good idea on a half pipe.

I broke my arm on Christmas day and couldn't skate for 2 months…. that didn't really suck too much because I filled the time I would have been skating with hours of fun watching skate edits and figuring out the difference between recreational skates and aggressive skates. 
There was one edit in particular that I have probably watched a million times now. It was my final 'yep, I am gonna get into aggressive skating' moment.

This edit is soooooo sick! I seriously love it. Everything just looks so smooth and those long rails at the end that Victor just totally laces are awesome! Thank you Victor Arias and Vinny Minton for making an edit that got me into aggressive skating!

During 2010 in English at school we had an assignment on sub-cultures where we had to find a documentary on a sub-culture and write a report. So of course I found, Barely Dead. I loved it and it helped me gain a stronger knowledge of where the industry came from. I didn't get a good mark for my assignment but that was because I just rambled on about skating rather than what the assignment asked me to do.

Around July in 2010 I went to SkateBiz in Brisbane and bought myself my first and so far only pair of aggressive skates. My Razors Icon 2's….

They look good there, but now they are missing one soul slider on my left skate because of a funny story involving a car, a camera, and an annoying road. Also the lace on the liner on the right skate is broken and takes me 5 minutes to do up therefore I am looking for new skates. (That's a strong but subtle hint to anyone with a pair of Size 10US Valo's.)

And that's how I found skating….

Probably quite a long story compared to a lot of other people around the world but the thing is, it was a long story because it took me a while to find it. I can just imagine kids like me who skate recreationally and don't find the aggressive inline industry simply because it doesn't reach out to them.

Me and my friends only found it because we went searching, and I suppose that's the type of people that you want to keep the industry going, but still.

The classic debate over whether it's a good or bad thing to try and bring blading back as a mainstream sport is one that I find completely pointless because I see a culture that thrives on the fact that it's underground.

If you have a spare 8 minutes in your day for this Australian Made documentary, then I urge you to watch it.

I think within this short documentary, and my story, contains the solution to the ongoing debate…

Keep rollerblading underground but reach out to more people.

More participants doesn't have to mean that we start selling out, it just means that there is more like minded people putting money into the industry.

If the problem is in money then we just need more people to buy skates right? 
I could be wrong and I have only known about this industry for 2 nearly 3 years but I just don't think that the solution is really that difficult to find….

Anyway, so to give you a better picture of how a young kid like myself sees the industry let me just explain what I understand.

There are a few companies, the first I ever discovered were Razors, purely because I was amazed by Brian Aragon. However at the time I didn't know the difference between all the grinds and hey! I still don't get the difference between a savannah and a unity (and what the hell is a tabernacle or tabinacle or whatever the hell it is?).

Here ya go, Zac. We got Andrew Gilpin from Iowa how to demonstrate a tabernacle, but be careful, this one is topside.

Anyhoo, I invested in buying a few skate DVD's my small collection includes, Undercover made by The Conference.org, Razors Game Theory, Razors Junior DVD, Fade Nation Green, Charg!ng, and Valo4Life. I am in love with Valo4Life and just for the record, a really good skate DVD can inspire someone to buy a particular brand of skates. Because of Valo4Life I am now trying to get my hands on some Valo AB white skates.

So my initial thoughts on the industry are that everything comes down to the World Rolling Series. That's where the top pros battle it out to prove who is the best. Though I quickly learned that skating is more than that, I noticed many pro skaters who put edits out yet they don't compete in the WRS and I think what they give to the industry is a good sense of the term "skating for fun."

I like how some companies push their skaters to compete whilst others just let their pros tour around in vans and find the most ridiculous street spots.

The point I am trying to make is that from the perspective of a young roller, who is 1 of 3 aggressive skaters in his town, the skating industry doesn't need a change.

There are some really good vibes out there. Some people are doing the craziest stuff and getting seen by the world. Just look at Chris Haffey's latest achievement.

Now my long story hopefully didn't seem like a sappy story of a kid who had to go to the effort of finding an industry for himself. And if it did seem that way, I apologise, however, I would like everyone reading to take this on board as a thing to try and focus some energy on.

The skating scene is so very American.

Everything, from what I have experienced in finding the industry myself, happens in the US and there is some terrific stuff happening in the Australian skating scene that I just don't think is being recognized by the American following.

We have I think about 3 WRS events that go down in Australia every year, and considering there is some great talent in Australia that doesn't get noticed, I think we could do with some more.

I'm not saying that it's up to the people that run the WRS to get that organised, but I just don't think there is much communication going on between the members of the Aussie scene and those in the US that have some pull in the industry.

There's some good stuff going on in Australia at the moment, like a Battle My Crew Edit competition and some guys from Brisbane are trying to set up a yearlong event like the WRS but just for the Brisbane boys.

I just think as a whole the industry would benefit by trying to have a wider reach and a stronger connection between the different parts of the world.

A couple of ideas to expand on my findings are that maybe one of the major companies could take the first leap and maybe set up a HQ in Australia or New Zealand or somewhere in Europe where there is a big enough following to expand some horizons… (wink wink to anyone who has connections to anyone involved with Valo, you should totally do that first because I can't find any valo skates my size on the net.)

Or if anyone wants to try this as well, maybe, setting up a new skate brand based in Australia… Me and my friends have done up a rough business draft for a company but we have no idea how to go about it, but it's an idea.

I am just a kid from a regional Australian town and I want to help the industry in Australia.

I think that the industry has room to grow and I would love to see it expand out so that more kids like me with big ideas can be exposed to this wonderful way of life.

BLADE OR DIE!
— Zac Hutchings

P.S. — A big thank you to Mr Brian Krans for letting me do this.

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Blader Digest: Chris Haffey Must Be Stopped

I am both annoyed and frightened for my own safety.

People have threatened to kill me for my prior investigative journalism, but never in my days have I experienced such a clever, patient, and vindictive mind.

I shall get the petty annoyances out of the way before I guide you through a diabolical plot so sinister it could only be concocted by Chris Haffey, a man dubbed Superman.

I'm sick of all his trophy-snatching, globe-trotting, mega ramp-hopping, hammer-dropping, contest-champion, could-have-been-an-astronaut bullshit.

Seriously, what's his fucking deal?

Okay, enough of that. It's time to get with current events.

First off, he challenges other pros to a game of SKATE for his website, loses every one, and still posts them.

B.L.A.D.E. Stockwell from chrishaffeydotcom on Vimeo.

Switch B.L.A.D.E. Farmer from chrishaffeydotcom on Vimeo.

B.L.A.D.E. Aragon from chrishaffeydotcom on Vimeo.

Who the fuck does that?

To be fair in journalistic purposes, I texted Chris that I was writing a column about how much I hated his guts and I welcomed him to comment.

He responded, and I quote…

Yea, I suck.

What a smug prick.

First, let's start with the wildly-addicting finals for the World Rolling Series that has been wreaking havoc on my nerves since it began.

(And don't even get me started on the whole Aragon/Nils Jansons deal. As I stated last week, it's not a question of Nils' talent that was in question, but rather his decision to use old footage. Then again, since he's one of the least-known people in the comp, he's the only one that could really use that without it raising as many red flags say if Aragon, last year's WRS champ, used footage from the WRS finals last year, The Blading Cup, Bitter Cold, Game Theory, or countless edits through the year, done such a similar thing because so many other people would have seen it. Weird.)

To WRSUploaded.com we go!

It appears that the continuation of the push and pull from the global blading community is continuing and, as of this writing, currently pits Sven Boekhorst against Haffey and it has been a pretty dead-locked heat for the majority of the two-day competition.

Both used their own classic clips to intro the section and both had some seriously quality clips from there. While Chris didn't show his medals in his edit, I'm sure they'd be about as many as Sven wore in his.

So that's probably why the two were deadlocked for a long time: they were both competing equally.

Boekhorst got some extra love besides Twitter, Facebook friends, and email. Sven was featured on the website for a Dutch newspaper. That story must have came out in the early morning hours when I woke up to see the same tally featured on the site…

If anything, it shows that in countries outside of America, people actually give a shit about rollerblading and voted for their countryman.

Fine with me. Haffey needs to be stopped.

Still, Chris has been pushing for himself, while hundreds others were pushing for him:

You see that "hahaha" following what could be construed as some as a slight at the international political climate? Yes, that third "ha" was very deliberate. Very.

Chris needs to be careful with foreign relations.

You see, we're in the midst of some seriously heated international relations here in rollerblading, and while it may extend outwards, Chris stands at the center like an all-powerful god of revenge.

While most of rollerblading's attention was focused on WRS Uploaded, Chris was working slyly and stealthily in the background to unveil his latest feat:

Destroy a Frenchman world record in his own country.

This weekend, Chris broke the world's record for longest jump at 30 meters, but everyone already knows that.

What everyone doesn't know is that the whole point of breaking the record was to whittle down the previous record holder into a mere shell of what he could be doing…

Seriously, there's nothing left of Taig Khris. He jumps off the Eiffel Tower and breaks a world record without a scuff on his lovely khakis and sponsored-out helmet. Then, a few month's later, he tries to take the Superman title away from Haffey by flying, literally, like Superman in front of a giant audience.

In the eyes of the world, one rollerblader was Superman because Taig Khris flew just like Superman. Before that moment, any rollerblader would have said that Chris, not Taig Khris, was indeed the Man of Steel.

No, Haffey thinks. I am Superman. Me.

Haffey is infuriated. He vows with a blood vengeance to return his title as rollerblading's Superman, The Last Son of Kryptonics.

What does Haffey do to him? Does he strike back with violence?

Yes, but Chris strikes Taig Khris right where pain originates: in the fucking mind.

Chris begins, and I haven't quite figured out how yet, a chain of events that will perfectly align themselves for a great moment.

He began snapping Taig Khris' mental fiber into splinters when during one of those training sessions, he publicly flaunts his intentions to ruin Taig Khris by easily snatching up one world record dealing with distance…

It's so obvious the stunt was meant to be a message for Taig Khris as the shopping cart clearly stands as a statement of commercialism reflected in Khris' gimmick stunts and sponsorships.

Still, there was a close moment when John Salt seemingly began to connect the dots.

Even Kato, Chris' mentor, knew this could create an international scene if things were to get out. It was too close to the payoff.

Those mega ramp sessions in Australia, Las Vegas, and at his super-secret revenge-training compound whose public face is called Woodward West (think Area 51 type shit)? Those were all training for the one exact moment where the name Taig Khris can no longer be called Superman.

Imagine a movie scene. It captures Chris through the air at F.I.S.E, a black knight of vengeance soaring to a smooth landing. He does not celebrate because he knows the best is yet to come…

The camera fades out to a news broadcast where a stern-faced skinny man relays the news in French. The man continues as they replay Taig Khris' Superman jump from earlier in the year. The shot cuts to a live television crew on scene at Taig Khris' home, making it clear the goal of the story is to get a reaction from the previous champion, who has now disappointed his country.

Then, at that oh so perfect moment, the film crew gathers this Swan Lake shit…

What's worst is that we will never be able to see the full glory because I'm sure Taig Khris doesn't know what the World Rolling Series is, knowing while he was making car washes sexy, Chris Haffey not only took his title, but was aggressively competing towards another.

Oh the satisfaction Chris must have felt to know his title has been restored and he only had to break a man down to near insanity to get it.

Sure, he continues with his front of saying he wasn't happy with the jump because it was sloppy.

That's even worse because it's been so spread full of dedication, humility, and other Superman-like qualities.

Fine, Chris, do it perfectly to keep your alter ego in tact. Go back and get hauled by a car. Do it so absolutely perfect that no human will ever be able to test it.

Fine, you've emotionally and psychologically broken down the man who almost took your nickname away. Has your blood lust been satisfied? You happy now?

Of course not.

Chris Haffey ain't never happy.

Never.

Wins Bitter Cold.

Feels bad because of controversial judging.

Goes to book release party.

Brings keg.

Breaks world record.

Wants to do it better.

He makes the shit look so easy, but in his head he's still all, "Oh, fuck! I'm going to die!"

It's not that he's fearless. That would make it easier on him. He has the same fears as the rest of us, but he has the bravery to face them in the name of pushing himself and the thing he loves most: rollerblading.

Oh, he's good. He's real good, but I'm on to him.

What does Chris have to say about his adversary is now giving sexy car washes?

Kind of a sore subject, cause I auditioned for that part, but couldn't do it due to scheduling conflicts so they gave it to him…

Uh huh.

Knowing I must get the truth out, I tell him my version paints him as a criminal mastermind. He responds:

I am, I just love to wash cars on my blades.
In my spare time.

What a fucking prick.

And speaking of pricks, Jon Julio has the gall to be up to something…again.

We're still waiting on word on what's going on with The Youth Co. Sure, you have that prick Haffey on your team, and Chris Farmer, who so conveniently left Create Originals right before Youth announced the project with Farmer on the team. (Don't think we didn't notice that.)

Now there's Blading — The Game.

Why don't they just come out and say what the fuck it is? Damn it, Jon Julio, why are you always doing all that Steve Jobs big announcement bullshit and tell us what it is?

Then again, Steve Jobs…Steve Jobs…

C'mon man! You figured out that Chris Haffey was actually an evil, bitter soul bent on crushing those who tried to take from him, you should be able to figure out what this is.

Think!

I got it!

Since the logo is the exact shape of an application icon for the iPhone and iPad, Julio relocated back to the Bay—the epicenter of American computer and consumer technology—the Facebook page has it under games/toys, and Julio is no stranger to video games…

There's going to be a fucking blading video game.

Or maybe because there's nothing else it could be with a name like "Blading — The Game."

In that case, I'm charged and ready for download.

God, that sounds really gay.

Eesh.

Blade or Die,

— Brian Krans

P.S. — If you enjoy how I can make shit up, you should check out my books—Freeze Tag on the Highway and A Constant Suicide—because, well, I need to be able to pay my bills. But, since I just saved so much money by switching to Geico, they're on sale.

But, much like my books, not everything in this article is made up.

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Blader Digest: Shockingly Loaded

Whoa. Big things going on. Let's get to it.

WRS Uploaded

If you're awesome, you've been paying attention to the new final competition of the World Rolling series at wrsuploaded.com.

Skaters from around the world having been competing via one-minute edits on spots of their choosing. It truly is awesome to see what people are putting into the peer-judged online event.

As of this writing, we're in the second heat with some big competition in there.

Daniel Prell beat out Dre Powell in his first heat, but he came across one of the best edits ever from defending champion Brian Aragon. Aragon had everything in there and shied away from his spin-to-win reputation. It was the most refreshing edits yet.

Below them was the stylish Nils Jansons who beat Nick Wood, who skated a homemade, makeshift Jersey barrier in the first round. Even though Nils' edit was into its second week, it appeared the fans were heavily leaning on Nils edit against seasoned Valo pro Erik Bailey.

Had there been an office pool to go with this (and who the fuck is down to start one for next year?!), I would have lost a lot of money. Then again, I wouldn't have been betting on talent, but merely how skating as a whole views a blader.

It became the battle of two people with Blade or Die tattoos…

That is one flawed way the system doesn't work.

The peer judging operates on one assumption: we are all rational, calm beings with critical thinking skills that can apply and interpret certain rules to a given scenario.

That's why I've voted for some edits four times because of yet another flaw in the system.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Daniel Kinney and others behind the World Rolling Series did the finals this way, but we all knew something fucked up was bound to pull its head out of its own ass.

Having everyone judge won't make strict judges out of us, it will only turn the whole system into a HUGE popularity contest with rigged judging. The rules go out the window in the name of something-something blah-blah-blah.

(This is an appropriate time to note that I am a very big fan of Erik Bailey. Huge. I have also worked with him on a project due out soon. Fuck, even the name of this site was used because of Bailey's toe tattoos. Please use that information when evaluating the validity of my forthcoming statements.)

No where in the WRS Uploaded rules does it state you couldn't reuse clips, so long as the submission hadn't been posted to YouTube or Vimeo before. Like anyone who's taken Mass Media law classes knows, altering content with the original owners permission (or unless it has been around long enough and considered to be public domain) makes it arguably a new work.

That being said, let's take a look at Nils Jansons's submission…

MAN! WOW! LOOK AT THOSE HAMMERS!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!

I admit I was first shocked at the level of Nils skating for the edit, but then something came into focus as soon as the last trick was done.

This isn't new footage. It's a compilation of others. I'm not even close to the first person to notice.

Erik's Valo teammate had something to say about it…

Here's some evidence.

This trick in Nils edit…

Was the same trick from the Nils Jansons Best Of 2010 edit on YouTube…

But let's watch what Bailey did wrong…

Hmm. Looks solid. Not his best work ever, but solid fucking Bailey skating that still got my heart rate up.

A big problem with Bailey's edit is that in comes in the middle of filming for FiVe, constantly filming with Erik Bill in Idaho, and creating new content.

Nils filmed for sections too. You just saw parts of his, including a trick he landed sometime in 2010.

It's fucking unfortunate Nils went that route. Fuck, for all I know he could be injured and in a wheelchair right now.

The point here is that no one doubts Nils or Erik's talent. Nils is young and extremely talented, and Bailey repeatedly bangs out big tricks in comps and puts out great sections in ever video he is in.

But this competition in no way is currently a fair one. Nils recycled footage while Bailey did not. It's like they both aced a test, but one was using a cheat sheet. They both hit a home run, but one used steroids.

If Bailey were smart, he could have simply had Ivan Narez piece together clips from 4Life and the upcoming Shred 'Til You're Dead II. Then again, that has nothing to do with smarts. It's about putting in the work.

But wait! There's an independent panel of judges who will judge who will become the true winner and the online votes will count toward the "Fan Favorite." Hopefully, hopefully I hope in my hopiest of hearts that they spot the bullshit when its there and cast it out under the most vile sin on the internet:

Then again, like any competition from girls' high school gymnastics to the Super Bowl, there will always be plenty of bitching about the judging.

The SHOCK Video

If you've never been to StabYourselfInTheFace.com, you've been missing out on a lot more than just the best named website on the internet.

The guys over at SHOCK are a fucking eclectic group. They run from zen master Kevin Yee to the infectiously violent Thomas Bistro, or whatever nickname he's going by this week.

Their content is beautifully summarized in the two-year project that is now available for purchase: The SHOCK Video.

It has almost a worn VHS copy feel to it, which the guys say say is intentional, so the video should be viewed first time in its entirety before going to individual sections. Most sections of skaters are short, fondly reminding me of the scene sections of the early Videogroove days.

There are probably a million fucking sections in the video, but none summarizes the hellfire fury of SHOCK and rollerblading quite like Derek Henderson.

Shit is so filthy. Dude fucking shreds OG killer shit making the video more westside than Hawai'i.

(Seriously guys, I'm trying here, but half the time you speak I have no fucking clue what the hell you are saying. I'm a 30-year-old white dude from Wisconsin. I only have so much to work with.)

The video is sick and at something like two hours long, it's well worth the money.

There's some old footage of big names, lots of new footage of big names, and some seriously brilliant skating on some of the nation's toughest terrain, especially here in San Francisco.

With all of the videos coming out at an increasingly alarming rate, it will be a video you won't soon forget because it's something blading hasn't seen in a while. It is more reflective of our grainy, ill-spent youth than it is of the polished, HD-driven culture we're in now. It's pretty much what blading is about for those that do it the best.

Still, one of the best moments in the video was when Bistro kept hitting some S&M dude in the balls with his crutch in the middle of San Francisco's Folsom Street Fair, a public festival of whips, chains, choke balls, and rubber.

It was a truly fitting moment for the spectacle of sheer shredding, nonsensical antics, and porn slicing that Tyler Durden would approve that makes up this video.

Bistro repeatedly said his only goal was to make the most offensive skating video ever made. I should not be the judge of this considering my first video was Hoax II (the one where Arlo whips his pierce dick out of a moving RV window) and I used to sift through baby autopsy photos and eat lunch immediately after.

Would you want your mom to be in the room while you're watching it? Fuck no. Your wife? Doubtful. Your girlfriend? Maybe, if she's cool.

United World Rolling

If Facebook, Twitter, Be-Mag, and Rollernews (BOYCOTT!!!) aren't enough to keep you incestually invested in rollerblading, there's United World Rolling, a social website that combines the core element of each one into one site.

Other sites have attempted such endeavors, but, alas, they all went the way of the buffalo. Then again, none had the endorsement of skaters like Franky Morales and the "godfather of rollerblading," Mr. Chris Edwards, who apparently has come a long way from his squeaky-clean Man of God image he had back when his name was on a skate.

Join if you'd like. When websites need user-driven content to succeed, they need users first.

The only thing that determines if the site will become anything involves users and time.

Time, after all, is the great decider of everything.

—Brian Krans
P.S. — Books. I wrote them. They are on sale. Buy them so I can continue to write these pieces without the consideration of advertisers.

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Blader Digest: Mace to Your Face

There is nothing more deplorable than a society who justifies the use of "less-than-lethal" tactics on people who sit on the ground.

We've all seen the news: protestors shot by riot cops in Oakland, pepper-sprayed in New York and on the U.C. Davis campus, and so on.

They occupy the same public grounds and college campuses that we are routinely removed from because a few people decide what others may do. Lawmakers make the laws, and we are supposed to blindly follow them without retribution.

Why? Only because people want stronger regulation of corporations, thus ending the idea that a business has the same entitlement as a human being.

We, as bladers, have all experienced the use of aggression and hostile tactics for minor violations of laws designed to squash our desire to do what we love—defacing public property, trespassing, disorderly conduct, and illegal camping.

I personally have felt the wrath of choke-slamming police at Bitter Cold. There I was, handcuffed in the back of a police car because I didn't put up with a police officer shoving me at a hotel I was a guest, as one police officer held a can a pepper spray right up to my eyes. It wasn't the shock of knowing their force wasn't justified, but knowing that they could do whatever they wanted and I was powerless to stop it.

Now, the democratic system makes our process appear to follow the notion that even the smallest of infractions should be met with brute force to quell any kind of uprising.

What's worse is when there is political divide over whether these people have it coming. Some of the people in this country are so entrenched in the rules they've lost sight of what is correct in a supposedly free country.

The Occupy movement is far from perfect. Some of the tactics involved in it are complete head-shakingly contradictory and full-blown hippie commune shit. Then again, they're doing something worthwhile besides camping otherwise there wouldn't be such a full-scale uproar about it.

Protestors shame those officers who will do anything to those who raise their voice or disobey an order, but they are too callous to care.

Here in San Francisco, the people in the crowd obviously won't be the poster children for capitalism because they are fighting against it. Here, they have classes (one of which includes yoga that my girlfriend teaches) and peace marches. No one here has been pepper-sprayed and beaten because despite it being San Francisco, there seems to be a little bit of sanity.

A raid here was canceled because politicians supporting the crowd were among the cause. Those people were lucky.

Dressed in riot gear with the names on their uniforms blacked out, these pro-government forces have shown, repeatedly, that they have no problem putting anyone in a jail cell. Or the hospital.

They are unified. Even the Oakland mayor admitted to consulting with mayors and leaders of other cities on when to dismantle encampments.

These are police officers who took oaths to uphold the law, but the law is skewed in their favor. They are the few who are allowed to carry lethal and non-lethal force with them at all times. If they unjustly use that force, they are judged not by the system of law they testify in, but to their superiors, who are judged not only on their performance but that of their subordinates as well.

It is a system behind closed doors where the average punishment is paid time off (a.k.a. a vacation). After years inside this system, they are given pensions where citizens pay them not to do anything.

And the public rallies behind them because they, too, believe that whatever force is needed to stop even the smallest of infractions.

And it doesn't help that retardation and acceptance spreads quicker than the pepper spray…

Much like Star Wars, the Empire is striking back against the rebels. The problem is instead of one masked man dressed in black, there are legions of them.

Something has shaken the brutality alive and if I've learned anything in journalism it is this—if you're doing something right, people will try to fuck you up to send a message. If you're doing something wrong, they'll still try to fuck you up if they can get away with it.

Thanks to the vigilance of the internet, people aren't getting away with it. The images of sheer brutality of the police are circulating around ad nauseum. The pepper-spraying cop even turned into an internet meme, casting a nearly comical light onto his actions.

If they are unified against us, we must unite against them.

I say we ignore all the bullshit and the rhetoric (Get a job! Shut up and go to work! etc.) and bind together with those who withstand even worse treatment in the same public grounds we share so we can blade.

We should unite over the realization of how quickly our governments will use their private armies to disperse people under the guise of municipal infractions when the right to peaceably assemble to protest our government using free speech is guaranteed to all people of this country under the Bill of Rights.

It's either that, or we continue to let them do as they please to others and wait until they come for the rest of us.

It's the same post-script of society that prompted Martin Niemoller to write the following only after he spent eight years in a Nazi concentration camp:

"First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me."

Then again, this isn't Nazi-era Germany. This is America. Land of the free, home of the brave…

Ah, fuck that style of thinking. We're giving up our rights each day by doing nothing. It's working well for so many people, but chances are you aren't one of them. If it is working for you, remain silent because when you step out of line for something you believe in, don't expect anyone to hear your cries.

So, yeah, just keep blindly buying shit you want because it's new, fancy, and shiny. Don't think about where your money goes and what's being done with it. Actually, do whatever the fuck you want because I'm sure when the day is done, all that shit will fill the void that is inside your apathetic heart.

Or you could actually support something that supports you.

If you must spend your money on something to make you happy, fuck a flatscreen TV and buy blading shit. Lots of it. Give the gift of shredding this holiday season.

Oh yeah, and fuck the police.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

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Blader Digest: White-Collared Slavery

You, my friend, are a slave.

Yes, I know you rest your head in the land of the free and home of the brave and you've pledged your allegiance to it daily as a school boy, but you are just as much a slave as the dark-skinned men and women our forefathers used to build this supposed free land. This soil, the one once trampled by wild animals and occupied by natives who didn't believe men could own the Earth, is stained not with the red, white, and blue blood of those who fought for our freedom, but by the dark soled shoes worn by the living dead of the working class.

Welcome to Slavery

We are slaves to companies that refer to us not as fellow humans, but as "consumers," for that is what we do. We consume. We are both the locust and the forest. We are the virus and the host. We feed off of each other.

We are all slaves for nothing but to serve to the currency printed by the private corporation that is the Federal Reserve. Before Dec. 23, 1913—two days before a holiday sold as a spiritual family affair and perverted by judgmental consumerism and other forms of insanity—the United States printed its own currency, but someone thought that was a bad idea. That day, the Federal Reserve Act was enacted into law.

The idea, according to the act, was "to establish a more effective supervision of banking in the United States," but as we all know, that didn't work. You see, the banks responsible for the financial crisis that began a few years back received federal "bailout" money because their "too big to fail" model fell because they gave too big of loans to people who couldn't afford it (including propaganda advertising emphasizing the "American Dream" involving huge vehicles parked in the garage of suburban homes with every modern comfort: heated bathroom tiles, dual-sink bathrooms, dining rooms, living rooms, family rooms, granite-tiled kitchens fit to host Julia Childs, Ron Popeil, Martha Stewart, and an Iron Chef on the good China) but who would never made enough to afford it. This wasn't a political or religious viewpoint, this was a real national anthem.

In essence, a private organization that is no more federal than Federal Express (See: Zeitgeist), became the keeper of our money. Not only that, but each piece of currency printed for the United States is loaned to that government with interest, thus making the country forever in debt to a bank it  unconditionally and congressionally gave all power to.

Thomas Jefferson—a man who drafted the piece of paper that declared the Colonies as an independent entity from the tyranny of the British tax system, and later lead the fucked-up country we live in—once wrote:

"If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation, then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their Fathers conquered."

(For those of you not familiar with American currency, this same man, this Thomas Jefferson, is also ironically featured on the $2 bill, a piece of currency about as outdated as his ideas on banks.)

Of course those children aren't homeless—they're living with their parents. The children who graduate college (which in a single generation went from a  luxury of the privileged to a bare-minimum requirement for life-sustaining employment) now return to their high school bedrooms because the economy they help fund cannot sustain an adequate supply-and-demand chain to supply them with jobs they demand so they can fund said chain with their mindless purchasing of processed food, tasteless light beer, and 8-mile-per-gallon studio apartments on wheels. They're taking their high school jobs slinging coffee at Starbucks, cleaning up the women's clothing section at Target, or guarding parking lots of the local mall.

But when the banks failed, they took your money and gave it to private corporations to help them through the hard times. They slashed jobs, bankrupted entire cities, and posted tremendous profits without having to pay back a cent or create the jobs they promised.

[image error]But hey, that's not so bad, is it?

Yes, yes it is.

Routine & Convenience

It is a very complicated system of interest, inflation, deflation, and numerous other factors that have led us to a scary place where our entire nation's credit system—especially to other countries—has dwindled to a point where we've stopped producing and only consume, but the consumers have no means of which to support their consumption so they resort to cannibalism.

We are cannibalizing each other not by willful or malicious action (see: breaking into your neighbor's house and stealing his TV) but by unknowingly listening to the rhetoric of advertising, politicking, and other means of entertainment because it's the easy thing to do. It's easy and it's convenient. It's part of our routine.

It's the routine—and our willingness to accept it—that makes it possible. You go to work, run some errands, go home to eat (maybe you're lucky enough to afford to eat out, at least one meal on payday), maybe sneak in a few minutes of a hobby, and go to bed so you have enough energy to wake up and do it again tomorrow. You probably want out of the routine, so you take convenience whenever you can find it, so you have more time to do what you love, or something as simple as catching up on your sleep. So you switch banks to the one with locations near work or home.

Most likely if you're in a big city, you take the one with the most locations because you're traveling around the city getting to your second or third job. You get convenience and your bank gets a few extra hundred dollars a year in fees while they loan out your money to others at a higher rate that you pay while they buy up smaller banks and expand to provide a better service to you. Your money also goes to pay lobbyists to influence policy drafted by people you elect to keep fewer regulations on people making money off of your money. It's convenient, routine, and you support it.

Convenience is one way a giant can rise until you can't escape its shadow. It's become so big, it is crumbling the world around us. It pays billions to its highest earners that are the corporation CEOs, yet it doesn't fund a sliver of that pie chart to fund the education of the children who will be operating those corporations at the base level. (Maybe that's why the biggest corporations—Wal-Mart, McDonald's, etc.—don't need much education to keep it running.) Convenience is going through McDonald's because it's quick and cheap. Convenience is going to Wal-Mart because it is cheap and you can get everything in one spot, which is convenient.

There's convenience and then there's greed. Greed is something we'll easily cast on others but we'll never admit to being a part of. Yes, we may be in a routine and do what is convenient, but we never think we're greedy. We just want the best. We want things, think we need things we want, we want what everyone else wants, we want what we think we deserve, and we want things at no consideration for its ramification to others (see: slavery, sweatshops, murders, poaching), but we're not greedy. We dream like Americans because its the American dream.

Willing Slavery

We aren't free because we give away our power daily.

Our farmers are too poor to grow real food because the corporations—the same ones killing us with tainted food and filing down the teeth of the FDA—have an authoritarian grip on the heartlands and coasts of this country. (see: Food, Inc.)

The poisons we ingest at the dinner table require medicine from another shadowy figure—the healthcare industry. Just like the way the Federal Reserve privatized our currency, a few businessmen helped a soon-to-be-impeached President take the care of its citizens from county budgets to shareholders by turning the health of people into a for-profit business.

This means that the rich stay healthy, the sick became poor while funding the rich, and the poor died. It became a Darwinian exercise of survival of the fittest through financial means. That model would only last for so long only if there were a steady buffer between the rich and the poor so someone could work the factories, lunch counters, and espresso machines, and fund the rich in the process. The rich need the poor to survive, so they created the middle class. They even gave them their own home: the suburbs, the massive geographical divide between the super rich and the super poor. It blankets the country for a reason.

[image error]

But the only way the middle class could afford to live in the suburbs was through credit, a system developed by the banks that only created a willing slavery to the American Dream.

Occasionally, a few of these middle class heroes get a bright idea and become rich. Then others follow the idea and threat the stakes played most by the super rich. Like every bubble Americans have ever blown, each one has to pop sooner or later. When the blast dust settles, everyone is back in their places—the poor at the bottom and the enormously wealthy at the top. Only the people in the middle know the difference.

That Guy to Your Left

One of the most convenient and routine things we see everyday are the people around us (see: fellow slaves). We see them at the Safeway grocery store, at Walgreens, in line at Starbucks, at the drive-thru of Burger King, in the aisles of Wal-Mart, and working the AT&T kiosk at the mall. We see them, but they aren't visible. They are people doing things, but they are replaceable. They are parts of a machine. That machine makes money, and you're part of it, too.

Any engineer will tell you any machine will make the best products when all the pieces work together, but they can only do that by working in unison with the part closest to it. With the way America is chasing its own dreams, we've learned how to stop making things and only consuming them. Our production is at its lowest point, while our imports peak higher every day. If we can't make things, what are we as parts doing, and who is going to fix us when we break down? Right now, a handful of people are letting us know what needs repair, who is holding the tools, and why we can't get to them.

These and other issues are why people are occupying city streets in protest of the current shit-stained climate that every swaddling baby is born into. They are protesting the slavery. They are occupying spaces funded by their own dollars to cry out against a system that holds their dollars as the highest interest point in their existence.

They are being attacked, beaten, pepper-sprayed, and tear-gassed with the money you're a slave to. Your taxes pay to house the Occupy movement, while it also pays to hurt the people resisting your slavery.

They key to our freedom isn't hidden behind the locked door of legislation, the clubhouse of the rich, or the occupied sidewalks to dissent. Our freedom, our chance to be delivered away from our transgression, lies in our greatest gift—the center of our humanity. We have shied away from our greatest asset for too long, protected by ideals, morals, and the shadows of hate, fear, and remorse.

First, we must know that that for a few to live the American Dream, we have created a nightmare for so many others. This isn't a time to continue dreaming.

Even if you disagree with the movement, there are things you can do to improve your world. Here are a few:

Move your money into a small, locally-owned bank or credit union.
Shop at local stores.
Buy from farmer's markets.
Fuck Starbucks. Fuck Wal-Mart. Fuck McDonald's.
Support corporations that do not use slave labor, support charities, and give back to the communities.
Do not buy things that can afford Super Bowl commercials.
Use the barter system when applicable.
Support people.

Our occupation shouldn't extend to the financial districts or public squares of major cities. It should grip inside each one of us until we discover a tireless bravery to rediscover our humanity.

To do this, we don't need reform from the top of marble steps  or between the marble pillars of leaderships. We need to practice humanity at the basic level we experience our world—with feet firmly planted in the ground, our sleeves rolled up past our elbows, and the notion that every single act we do can either restore sanity to this country, or push it further into the cavernous, mindless, nonsensical hellstorm of distopian rhetoric we have let it become for too long.

We have no one to blame but ourselves and the listless apathy we call convenience. There is no need to apologize for what we have done, but we must promise to each other and ourselves to never let it happen again.

Until we find a better way, let's support each other.

It's either that, or we remain slaves.

We Need something better or we'll all Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

P.S. — I have other ideas about society, education, authority, responsibility, getting out of this shitty hellhole, and other perplexing subjects, but they're in my books. You'll have to buy one to read those ideas.

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Blader Digest: Home

It is with a heavy heart that I write this.

Like many people, I always struggled to find a home. Mine originally is a nice two-story house in a safe place of a safe town in the safe state of Wisconsin. Those are all reasons I left and only return on vacation.

Home is a place that you never want to leave, but must for some reason.  That may be to explore the world you were cast into, explore the depths of your character, or just to see how the fuck other people spend their time from birth until death. I wanted something new, a good place to burn away the remainder of my youth while being challenged to adapt to new surroundings.

Home, for me, became a second-story apartment in a part of San Francisco that no one goes to unless they're new to town or have a gun against their heads.

In August 2009, I packed up the most important shit I'd accumulated from 27 years living in the Midwest and booked a one-way ticket to San Francisco. I had planned to move there with a friend, but when he backed out, I went without him. The only plan I had that was the co-creator of the Hyphy trilogy wanted to move from Brentwood to get an apartment with some dude from the Midwest that wrote a column for a certain rollerblading magazine that doesn't need to be named.

And so we moved into 2018 19th Ave. Apt. B, San Francisco, CA, 94116.

It was a soulless white-walled two-bedroom, two-bath in a part of San Francisco  that bitter yuppies called "not San Francisco." We were less than a mile from the ocean and farther from anywhere I've ever been.

There we were, a Midwestern white boy and a Bay Area Mexican, playing house.We had never met, but thought it was a good idea to live together. Quickly, we learned of each other's nuances and discovered, happily, we didn't annoy the fuck out of each other.

I'll say this: Ivan Narez appears to be an intimidating motherfucker at first, but he's really a sweet softie that will make a killer breakfast you can never fathom of competing with.

It took some time, but I adjusted to his sense of humor, style, and persona. The guy is nothing but a chill dude behind one of the most racial stereotype-affirming mustaches I've ever seen.

We bonded over blading, booze, bitches, and some really fucking killer breakfasts (Really, Ivan can fucking cook, so if he's in your city, host the shit out of that dude).

Soon, the house expanded beyond the two of us.

First, if my aging memory serves me correct, we had the lovable little scamp that is Soichiro Kanashima live on our couch for two months. Polite and quiet, we forced that Japanese motherfucker right out of his comfort zone. I'd tell you about his birthday party and this thing with strippers biting off his underwear on stage but that would be inappropriate.

Once "Itchy" stayed, the house become a never-ending supply of sweaty, dirty bladers camping anywhere on our floor they could find. Some names I didn't know until a few days in, other names and faces I recognized immediately.

Basically, everyone who was anyone wanted to work with Ivan, so we had a constant flow of people looking to get some clips in whatever project he was working on.

Fuck you if you don't think he kills shit. Old school local, or new school from Bavaria, people cam from around the globe to work with Ivan, stay at our house, and collect tons of clips around the skate mecca of San Francisco and the Bay Area.

JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!JSF! JSF! FUCK YOURSELF WITH A CACTUS IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN WITH JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF! JSF!

Anyhoo, what we didn't know—or at least I didn't know—was that we were opening an orphanage to traveling bladers, friends, soon-to-be-homies, and anyone needing a place to crash for a night or a month.

I spent more time gromming on people chilling at the house—Arias, Bailey, Stockwell, Chase, Livingston, Bolino, Smith…

Hertel, Drumm, Morciglio, Minton, Opalek, Julio (and the charming Mrs.), Aguilar, Baumstimler (yeah, Champion), Farmer, Haffey…

and more—that if I were a blade-whoring school girl, I'd be throwing out damp panties every ten minutes.

Ivan snapped a Polaroid of everyone who stayed at the house. The collection of those, laid end to end, spans over a mile.

The house would get so packed at points that there would only be floor space to get to the kitchen and bathroom. The house felt like a Fight Club recruiting camp, the house swelling and breathing as one when full to the brim. Still, we did our best to be as hospitable as possible.

The best were the bladers that not only stayed, but those who picked up after themselves, cleaned when they were bored, and generally were awesome dudes. (NOTE: If you're crashing at someone's house, buying a pack of toilet paper gets you unlimited karma points. [Thanks AJ!])

The house was a place that not only Ivan, I, and others called home, but it was place for homies on the road to come chill, drink some beers, and shred.

It was a great thing to house anyone that needed it, and that offer was taken up by people around the globe. If the house wasn't teeming with bodies, it felt cold and empty.

[image error]I say it was a great house, but it came to end an as Ivan heard the call of the road and went Kerouac on all these motherfuckers.

The two years and two months spent creating the 2018 Club were fucking awesome and I pity you if you weren't a guest of ours.

In the process, we went through some changes…

And we had some fun…

That apartment played out some major events in our lives:

The start of both Shred tours
The end, publication, and release of my second novel, Freeze Tag on the Highway
The duration and release of Valo 4Life
The formation of BladeorDie.com
The beginning of FiVe
The final editing of Charg!ng
The completion of two of my novels
A major tour stop of The Breakfast Club , and upcoming video you'll want to see

We can never thank everyone for all their help in making that crappy apartment such an awesome place to live.

It was a home to wandering souls. It was a place to rest. It was home to many.

I write this now in paradise: a hardwood-floored, bay-windowed, open-minded house in the center of the city's Mission District, home to some of the best food and nightlife your punk teenage ass could ever hope for.

Still, in hindsight, I just want to go home to that dumpy apartment in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a gas station and shitloads of non-English speaking Asians, some who knock on our door and yell at us for not putting out our recycling bins so they could collect our endless supply of empty beer cans and whiskey bottles. Until another time, it has been an honor to help be a landlord to hordes of traveling skaters. Let's do it again soon.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

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Blader Digest: Finding Our Style

Style.

Like it or not, it's what blading is all about.

Anyone can do a trick, but if you don't make it look good, it's not worth as much.

But beyond how you do a trick, there's much more in blading that echoes who we are, what we do, and how we're perceived. Actually, it has everything to do with how we're perceived.

The greater society, the one that controls the contents of the wallets with their scattered attention and yearning to be part of the next big thing, chases style down, absorbs it, attempts to call it their own creation, and then dumps it like a used condom.

And that, in essence, is what has got us here in the first place.

We deserve it.

First, let's take a look back into our roots.

Rollerblading started out—and existed for the majority of the time—mainly as this:

Middle America embraced the feeling of being able to ice skate in the winter. While there were thousands of broken wrists and asses every year due to people simply trying to stand up on the things, people saw the opportunity to do more than glide down the boardwalk.

So, we got AJ "Action" Jackson, Chris Mitchell, and Chris Edwards to start showing the world what could be done on a pair of skates.

Now, if you were like me—a 14-year-old kid from BFE Wisconsin—those dudes in the oversized knee pads, helmets and khaki shorts were the coolest mother fuckers alive. Okay, no they weren't.

They were the pioneers, so they were busy inventing tricks and doing shit for the first time. Still, the larger society couldn't tell the difference between them and the kids at the fucking mall. They were looked at the way most people look at dudes on razor scooters today—kids on toys (or grown men too fucking lazy to walk).

That's when some motherfuckers in California got the big idea to go around and start hocking shit that didn't embrace the Christian lifestyle like Edwards, but rather cut their hair into devil horns and start some shit.

That was the birth of Sentate and the birth of an identity to rollerblading. Senate's ability to spark up national media with their "Destroy All Girls" labeling in their clothing line—and the entirely unapologetic Arlo Eisenberg in front of the camera—showed the world that rollerblading wasn't about doing spins with a partner or weaving between fucking cones.

Rollerblading was young.

It was angry.

It wanted blood.

And society wanted a taste.

This was the era of the Extreme Games. Not the fucking X-Games, the Extreme Games.

The cartoonish street course brought together skaters from every coast in the sports first public event. Even as those guys were shredding on skates that could barely hold up to the pressure of the tricks, rollerblading was able to distinguish itself in a public forum as something different than the Sidewalk Sultans.

We had HUGE baggy pants like all those cool Jnco kids, we rocked the fuck out to Biohazard like all those metal kids, and we have every bit of cockiness because we thought that the bright spotlight that was on us would burn forever because we'd worked so hard skating for two years and now we were on national motherfucking TV.

That's when shit got real. Dude's started picking up corporate sponsors, traveling, and being able to afford a pretty decent lifestyle on their blades. Skating competitions happened all over the country, kids could buy shit at local shops, and all that other cool shit that brings a tear to my eye thinking about it.

Everyone was fucking blading.

It, my friends, was a glorious time.

But then we went and fucked it up. It was only 1996 and we were drawing our glory days to a close.

The Extreme Games were now the X-Games. The street competition was a monster compared to the year before, and our little 15- and 16-year-old pros looked like midgets in the mix. Still, shit went down there that qualifies as gold today.

Still, if you listen to the commentary on Matty Mantz's run, you'll hear what I'm talking about…

Airs.

That's all anyone wanted.

Not many people knew that in one year, rollerblading's shifty went from being a difficult trick to be a royale, the standard in the industry. They couldn't spot the technical differences because while small, it was a big deal to us. It opened the door to so many tricks, but all people wanted to see were airs, spins, and flips.

So we did. We flipped and high jumped to give the people what they wanted. Well, the performing skaters did that wanted the paycheck.

But, an emerging generation that grew up on the street and the skate park were moving fast, too. They'd bring the technical side of the street, the airs of the park, and something almost all too new to televised rollerblading: speed.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Society loved watching, but as our sport progressed the technicality of the tricks surpassed the public's knowledge. We were growing and expanding so fast in our abilities that no one could keep up.

This was 1998 and most people were retiring their skates, and pulling their eyes off of rollerblading. Why?

Most people's little sister could do it.

No, most of them couldn't do what Feinberg was doing back then, but that, to the public, was just hopping around and sliding on things. They didn't understand the technical side. It was too hard, but rollerblading itself had become so popular that anyone could do it. There society was, looking at blading not as the blood, guts, and fear of the shit on the street, but the same thing that everyone's cunt of a neighbor kid could do.

Who the fuck wants to watch that?

So the years dragged on and blading lost a lot of itself. Like most other things in life, we emulated from above ourselves, so when one pro did something, everyone copied it. (I confess, I am no different.)

This transcends fashion, style, mannerisms, video style, and more. It's a plain fact that for most of blading's existence, there has been one style that has been copied and copied and copied for so long that it's nothing close to original.

Most people stopped watching once it got into the white-suburban-kid-rapping-while-wearing-huge sweatpants stage. Everyone wanted to be Josh Petty. Don't get me wrong, that's cool because Josh Petty was fucking tight.

Blading was still growing. We were still learning about personal style, what tricks we'd keep, which we'd trash, and where the fuck we were going. We were wandering around somewhere between pop culture and limbo. That's a scary fucking place.

You know it's gotten so fucked when hammer factories like Jaren Grob,  Blake Dennis, Carlos Pianowski, and Bruno Lowe weren't enough to buy us a few more years.

Nope. Their speed, technicality, and beastness weren't enough.

It wasn't until 2005 that rollerblading got the boot (no pun intended) from the beloved X-Games, leaving us for decades to whine about it, especially in nauseating detail in the video Barely Dead. (Don't get me wrong, good movie, but the bitchiness about all the X-Games shit is still too much.)

But really, it is our fault.We were going for the biggest shit we could find. We were doing it so much we made it look too damn easy.

Physical part of the sport aside, we'd become too much like the same person. The sport—or at least the part that was getting the attention outside of itself—was going suicidal. It's like we were trying to rack up head injuries to prove a point. A point to who? Well, I'm not sure.

Still, we didn't rely on the outside. We stayed in close, took care of each other, kept creating companies while some folded, and made our own fucking comps because no matter what…FUCK THE POLICE!!!

And that pretty much brings us up to speed.

Well, not really at all.

See, the style thing was important. We were all the fucking same. (Well, not every single one of us, but bear with me while I try to make a point.) We lacked diversity.

Most of the time in rollerblading, you were either just like everyone else, or you were cast aside. We had freaks from the very beginning and despite a few rad mother fuckers here and there, it seemed like we were trying too damn hard to be the fucking same.

Thankfully, that shit's over.

The best part about blading now is the diversity.

In becoming autonomous, we've accepted realities. We don't have to act a certain way to get on TV. Actually, no matter what someone did, they wouldn't get on TV for it.

We lost everything. In other words…

"It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything." — Tyler Durden

You see, by fucking everything up, we achieved freedom.

We dictate our own style because no one's watching.

For once in our sport, we have style.

We have it in the sense that there is no single style to the point where someone could look at a dude not on skates and say, "Fucking rollerbladers."

Most people don't even know we exist!

Now we have all this awesome shit in blading.

Companies are being selective and straight forward about their image and who fits on what team.

Every fucking skate company has it's own look…

Valo

Razors

Xsjado

USD

Remz

Rollerblade

Let's not forget all the other companies—clothing, wheels, etc.—that have their own shit.

We've got everything from the clean cut, protein shake-drinking Brian Aragon…

…to the drunkem, teased hair badass rock star Chris Farmer…

…and other bad ass dudes like these in the middle…

See, we've got style.

We've got so much of it in fact that we can finally be able to have more than one or two.

Now, I don't consider myself a shallow fuck, but every day you wake up, you make a conscious choice on what you want to look like to other people. Say you don't care about what other people think and I'll call you a dirty whore liar.

Style is important.

(You call it swag and I'll find a loose piano wire, book a plane ticket, and come over to your fucking house to put some S.W.A.G. [sex with a garotte] on your entire family. The only person in the world who can use that word and not get the taste slapped out of his mouth.)

Some people, well, they've got style, but they go to some strange, convuluted, complicated, and mind-boggling shitty places with it.

The point of all this is…

When we were young and moving fast, nothing slowed us down. We wanted love most of all. But we were running wild. It's true.

It took us so long to find our styles, and, although they are not unique to our sport, they do visually represent that rollerblading has grown beyond a single mindset and idea into a lifestyle that accepts all.

If someone wants to get into blading, they can look around and see tons of options. The best option they have is to be themselves because we have tons of people doing that and thousands of us embracing it.

Blading has gone beyond a sport bitter that it is no longer in the spotlight and one that's happy being itself and won't change when people come looking.

That, my friends, is somewhere we need to be.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

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Blader Digest: Why I Blade

Obviously, I don't skate because it's cool.

We all have seen the trend of the media to hop on the 90s bandwagon that's rolling through America right now. According to one dude at a roller skating rink, rollerblading, "is on the way out."

On it's way out? Not to sound like a hipster, but bitch, rollerblading has been out longer than the people you interview for your story have been alive.

The video above and the video below—along with most coming from anywhere outside of blading—always has the same message: rollerblading isn't cool.

It's always the same thing: find some guy who can barely stand, point a camera at him, attempt to get a few laughs, and move on to the next thing.

Everyone thinks that blading died a long time ago. It's going to take a lot of convincing to change people's minds, and I know I'm not going to be the person to fucking do it. I'll do all that I can to help the sport that's shaped my life, but I'm not rolling around to have people point at me and talk about how fucking bad ass I'm not.

I don't blade to troll the skate park for underage skanks that are looking for anyone's attention. Seriously, if you fuck around with girls five or more years younger than you because they like what you do at the skate park, you really need to evaluate your stance in life, grow a pair of balls, and go after girls your own age. All you're doing is inviting more post-Bieber fans to hang around skate spots and annoy the fuck out of the rest of us.

Besides, those closet Bieber fanatics are just as logical as he is…

I don't skate so I can have a camera follow my every move. I don't feel the need to validate my time by documenting everything I do.

Now, I know that's what populates social media, but if I need therapy,  I don't air that shit on Facebook. I go rollerblading. Or, I see a therapist. I don't need to share that shit.

Everyone's got fucking problems and no one cares about yours. Fucking deal with it.

That being said, if you go out and stomp on your practice rail by yourself for a few hours, you don't have to edit that shit and share it on Youtube. Edits are supposed to accentuate the best you have. They're supposed to say to everyone, "Hey, look what I can fucking do when I really push myself."

If you don't do that, you can't call anyone who stomps on your shit a "hater." Some people aren't hating. They're being honest. You'll never please everyone, little shredder, so make something so awesome that anyone who hates on them should go fuck themselves with a cactus.

Then again, if you don't think you're going to be bringing new shit to the table, or blowing people out of the water, turn off the fucking camera and get to fucking work on your skating.If your motivation is to impress people, get mad sponsorships and rule the world, it's going to take a lot more than a video diary of every time you put on your fucking skates.

This is what you fucking look like…

I don't skate to get love from the message boards. Unless you're a masked vigilante, hiding behind a fictitious name is for cowards. If someone says they love or hate what you do, and you have no clue what their fucking name is, why even give them a spasm of thought in your brain?

Still, the majority of the conversation in blading is dictated by those who prefer to scream before they think. They go for the quick punches, which after long enough, can knock anyone out.

That's not why I rollerblade, but if that's what makes some people happy, good for them. Life is all about the happy moments, so if someone's out there, liking your posts, then take it for what it's worth. If they don't like what you're doing, give them AIDS.

I rollerblade because that's who I am. It's not just a part of my life, it's part of who I am and who I will always be. Like anyone else, my skating will wax and wane, from skating every day in a week, to somehow not skating for days on end.

Life is fucking hectic and the more you want out of it, the more you have to work, so sometimes (and it's fucking sad), you have to sacrifice time doing what you love so you can pay the bills and make a name for yourself.

But that doesn't mean there aren't moments where you're slaving away, wishing to the dearest gods in heaven that you would rather be out listening to the screams of your bearings beneath your feet.

No matter what, I'll always yearn for smooth concrete and shiny waxed ledges filled with back torques that make my knees burn. I don't have a choice. It's inside me and it won't die because I won't give it the chance.

I know someday, as I'm old and dying from neglected blading injuries, I'll still say, "I wish I went blading more."

I blade because it's the only thing through my entire life that has made any sense. Too often, I sit around trying to figure things out: events, people, ideas, and new sandwiches. I often fool myself into thinking that if I try to simplify things, they might get a little easier.

That's about as useful as trying to watch Sex in the City and trying to get an erection. It's not going to happen.

About 98-percent of my life I've had no idea what the fuck I've been doing. I've been faking my way through most shit. After that, it's been a veil of feigned confidence and so on. I know the key to getting by isn't your brains because no one really values those the way they should. No, knowing that you know more than the idiot next to you can get you really far. The rest, well, Google that shit.

At least with skating I know where I stand. If I end up doing something wrong, gravity lets me know. I appreciate that.

Instead of attempting to figure something out, it's easier to try to accept certain things:

Bad shit will always happen.
People do fucked up things.
No one cares about you as much as you do.
You're not as interesting as you think.
There will never be enough money.
Little things can go a long way.

I rollerblade because it is the most natural-feeling thing in the world, besides sex, of course. Skateboards, scooters, bikes, and everything else brings too many different aspects into their sports. Their activities involve manipulating objects outside the realm of natural human movement. Skateboarders move their skateboards and bikers move their bikes. Rollerbladers take small extensions of their bodies and cast themselves onto the same objects with even less gear.

The human is the most important thing in skating, not the skates. (Sorry to Valo, Razors, The Conference, Kato, and everyone else, but it's the truth.) The human form is nearly perfect, so adding the skates make it perfect. It makes us all superhuman.

I blade because it makes me fucking fly. I'm not one of those skaters who can soar through the air like a motherfucking falcon. I'm more like a turkey—the flight isn't far and it won't get me into a tree, but bitch I feel fabulous while I'm up there.

I blade because bladers are fucking awesome. Most of my best friends are rollerbladers. We take care of each other. We don't let stupid shit get in the way of awesome shit. We go to jail for each other.

But I'm not special. Most people who blade, blade for all the same reasons.

That's it.

Enough of this bullshit.

I'm going to go drink whiskey, smoke cigarettes, and get the fuck over it.

Blade or Die,
— Brian Krans

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