Actions Speak Louder Than Words

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Anti Facist

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CBGB – Wake Up Your Memory Bank

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Rich Monday And Maty Almost Wake Up To A Sleeping Town!

Let The Games Begin. Let’s Start This Rock And Roll Party!

The Southern California Smash Mouth Local Punk Rock Legend Maty Almost crashed my house for a discussion about his new band ‘Almost Criminal’ and to do a sit down interview with me for my new zine book series coming out called ‘STAMINA.’

Yeah when the long time punker and hardcore historian Maty stops by to ruin your home, your wife and your life as you know it, it meant a few things to me. It meant no sleep for a couple days, playing the U.S. Bombs really loud all night, some song writing, a sit down interview about how great he is, me giving him all my awesome skate clothing, and of course sex stories about all his ex’s, too much drug abuse and excessive amounts of alcohol all made for barrage of ranting and ravings with head bangin punk rock living wasting the nights away to memories money can’t buy. The carnage at my house ended with a tradition, this could only mean one thing, yep, a mission to go street skating and destroy the city streets of Modesto and of course it could only happen at the crack of dawn for a rumble in the Mo-Town Jungle with a crew of you know who. I played guide and picked two spots that where hot and security free. The police tend to leave grey haired skaters and skin head punk rockers alone as long as they can stop by and watch the exhibition of gnar we displayed for any onlooker who wanted to witness what really goes on at that hour in this town. We started the mayhem of the road trip at the Modesto Banks under the Kansas street bridge, which is always the best of times of any trip. We followed that up with a session at the Carver Daycare Ledges where my skate session came to a crashing end to get the photo shots on film. It took me 9 tries and 3 hard hitting dances with the concrete ground to pull this trick. I think my problem is that I have to hit my trick spots at mach 5 speed for some God only knows reason, but mission accomplished and it was time for some breakfast and a refresher of the party flavors at the house. Maty skated like a trooper. I believe you ain’t punk unless you can skate a little and he threw down some stylin moves on his newest stunt wood he chose for the city skate and destroy street crashing mission we got ourselves into. What a day and night we had. More memories added to the years of living a great lifestyle of growing up on 4 wheels and bangin hardcore tunes on guitar, or on the player. I’m truly down for life and Maty you can crash my party any day of the week. Later Much!

Rich Monday

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fs boneless one big
The Modesto Banks. I skated this spot while they were still finishing the front end of the construction site. Gnarly skate spot. Sorry, No BMX & Scooter Riders allowed!

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The Carver Ledges and I’ve got my game plan set, so I thought.

final 2
Nope, ain’t happening yet grasshopper! The force is with you!

final 3
Again, no high fives on what felt like my 40th attempt. Damn I’m fucking  old…

final 4
That’s it Rich, just slow down and and make a good pop!

final 5
Ah, finally, Huston we have made contact. Now just slide the night away.

final 6
Fuck this new wax you say everybody uses is slick Fennigan.
Don’t argue me damn it, just snap the fucking shot on the E.O.S.

final 7
God I’m a big & tall heavy beast. Tall skaters look rad though when they unfold a trick.

final 8
Why do I go so fast? Now I have to land it and not fall into the traffic 10 feet in front of me. Thank God for the spotter. Now just pull it off and walk away for the sake of your body.

final 9
God what a sketchy roll away, but I’ll take it. Now pass the bottle and inject the pain relievers from last night, because this spot has made me sober from the brutal falls, fuck!

final 10

Fuck What You Heard!

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Hardcore Family Values

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Punks hanging out on the Kings Road, London 1983

Hair’s Looking At You…

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I’ll Give You The BOOT

POETIC JUSTICE

Why do you cunts hate my boots?

Boots define a lifestyle called punk rock.
Boots speak of a laboring soul who’s tired as fuck.

My boots show up to win all my fights.
My boots are present under these city nights.

An English Anarchist once said in a song.
The boots I wear have never been wrong.

Why not wear boots like us everyday.
Kick the bootless fascist with much to say.

These boots are not made for just walking.
Sometimes I wear my boots while I’m fucking.

Wear boots and live with every ones hate.
I’ll be wearing my boots at the pearly gate.

Fuck your Local 209 and fuck your crew.
This boot poem I wrote is just for all of you.

-Punk Monday

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Nazi’s Punx Are Dog Shit

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Fuck You And Your Rules

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