16
H
NO
B.S.
DON'T TELL US HOW TO LIVE AND
WE WON'T TELL YOU HOW TO DIE
OR
NEW ETIQUETTE FOR STREET SOCIETY
T.V. news asks the big pertinent questions of the age. Is the
notorious Tony and Suzie Alamo religious cult really hiding stolen
children? Does Mr. Reagan really dye his hair? Can some fat
baseball slob really live up to his million dollar a year contract? Will
public contributions really fund the rebuilding of the burned local
library? Why just last week Major Media dude gave us the hip low-
down on how to survive the big blast. Nuclear freeze; seems to me
it would be more of a hot blur. On today's skate session through the
hallowed halls of the local state approved college, we were har-
assed by some "Save the Whales-Spear a Toyota" types. A self-
designated female college activist accosted our crew and de-
manded we sign her petition to rescue the world. When we asked
from what or whom she launched into some dreary dialogue about
the importance of politics in our lives. According to her indoctrina-
tion plan, it was join or die time, 'cause you see, you're either on
one side or the other.' She admonished us to remember the hos-
tages, and we told her to worry about saving the clown... like we're
still backing Jack. Sorority sister thinks we're talking J.F.K. and fol-
lowing her 'eat bio-organic' riff, she snaps the pressure relief valve
and begins screaming "You skateboarders are all alike, you don't
care about anything." Once again the Campus Police order us
elsewhere. Once again we return in twenty minutes and it's ses-
sion as usual.
So what has transpired on these streets where no one lives?
Can Word Witch actually influence the course of the planet (and if
she could would anyone want to live under her bizarre regime)? Do
the state police further the cause of mankind in any way by per-
forming the empty ritual of ordering us off the taxpayers' sacred
concrete. We see these guys at least four or five times a day and
it's always the same story. By definfition "it's only their job." We
realize that just as they realize that it's our job to utilize every inch
of premium skate surface. In fact if we didn't show up to skate, they
wouldn't have anyone to play law enforcement with. And if that
happened they soon would be out of a job. But back to the bitch...
speaking for myself she's correct. I don't care. At least not about
the crap she's paranoically obsessed with. Consider her basic
save the planet eco-jive. She hands out pointless paper pamphlets
that invariably end up as crumpled trash in the streets. She drives
a carbon monoxide generating petrol burner, pays for parking and
comes down hard on anyone who dares to disagree. The auto-
mobile as offensive weapon, selective combat in the bumper to
bumper zone and at rush hour she's the one who goes all out to pin
your back to the wall. Skateboards are clean, high performance.
transport. The skater's only crime is that he or she perceives reality
differently from the status quo. The next time the man offers to
write you up for the criminally malicious act of "wearing out a curb"
ask him how many gallons he burns a day on petrol. Be nice, wish
him well, be his friend, offer to buy the entire precinct a box of Win-
chell's doughnuts if they will just block off the turnpike, freeway.
main street, or whatever just so you and your fellow perpetrators
can session it!
So, what do skateboarders care about? In recent times there
seems to be much debate regarding this matter. Do all mental con-
cepts require prior "official" approval? Can't some people accept
the fact that the activity of riding a skate is as valid a reason for
existence on this planet as any other. Are the corporate controllers
afraid of the fact that the modern techno-societal environment is in
our reality just a large ferro/cement playground? Are they shocked
that skaters constantly re-interpret the urban planners rigidly one
dimensional theories? Do the political potentates really care that
suburban anarchy reigns supreme; or do they just like to talk?
Does big Ronnie actually get chauffeured about in a bullet-proof
limo that is essentially the same as that of the King Commie Com-
misar? Where is the evidence of the big difference between "us"
and "them?" Is it in the silkscreened logos on the doors? Why are
authoritarian types so offended by mere images? Do symbols kill?
Or words? Do modern cultural warriors require uniforms for the
purpose of team identification anyway? Is ignorance really bliss or
just poor second to episodic television?
Just who's game is this anyhow? To determine this the
THRASHER staff concocted a bold new plan. Since everyone at
the rag accepts the fact that skating is just skating, we decided to
present a 'realistic' portrayal of street life today. We rescued a cer-
tain photog's high speed camera from the clutches of a money
mad pawnbroker, gave him one hundred rolls of film and sent him
off. The only rule was the basic street axiom that there are no rules.
So view on, these are the only power politics we care about. Skat-
ers direct their own phenomenal progress with no modifiers. The
maneuvers portrayed were chosen by the skaters. Some like Paul
Hoffman's "On the way home from the market, kick stall, head dip,
360° hat trick, mellon plant into a pressure drop," defy logic. Others
like Ruff's glass glider off Tracker Larry's car or Peralta's spin
slides require tremendous agility and precision....And of course,
there's just the basic simple stuff like Lance's steeple drop.
Is one person's art another person's vandalism?
Why read when you can be rad? Why theorize when you canter-
rorize? Why socialize when you can radicalize?... When they say
why? you say why not?...Oh yes, and just one last thing...kindly
disregard the maneuvers on these pages and go out and invent
your own. The future is yesterday's point of departure.
LOWBOY
Paul Hoffman, garbage slide.
Photography by C.R. Stecyk III
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