What planet? What channel? What station? Afrika from the Zulu Nation.

Once again I've let it go too long without posting. But in this instance I have an excuse, I've been touring like a madman behind a new EP my band released.

Since we last spoke I've been to - Houston, San Antonio, Dallas, Austin, New Orleans, Tallahassee, Jacksonville, Ft. Lauderdale, Orlando, Atlanta, Nashville, D.C., NYC, Philly, Clifton Park, and Montreal.

At the moment I am typing this from my hotel room in Toronto, and after tomorrow's show in town we'll be heading to Detroit, Louisville, Chicago, Lawrence, and Denver.

Gnarly.

It's been fun as shit, the kids have been coming and showing the love, and I'm lucky to have such a good job; I can't complain.

I'm tired, but it's the good kind - hard work, sweat, playing rock and roll, and occasionally skateboarding, like here at the 6th St. Skatepark in Nashville.

If you find yourself in there, check it, it's connected to an all-ages venue called Rocket Town, the people who run it are cool, and the locals are friendly.

After our show I wanted to take a run before the bus left, and since they enforced the helmet rule, I had to buy one, but the spitfire gloves I scored in the shop made it worth it.

Adam 12 took some shots of me shredding in show clothes (note the tour laminate giving good air flair)

The gloves that made it worth buying the helmet.

OK.

Since it's been a while since we last spoke, this is not going to have the full impact, as it's going to seem bandwagon-esque, due to it's late arrival.

But I'm gonna go ahead and say it: SOA is the best show on TV. Period.

Well, maybe not BEST, as I recently, (read: TODAY) became ob'd with Mad Men, but SOA is definitely the most exciting show on TV.

I'm not gonna say I watched it from the beginning of the first season, cause that would be a lie.

I thought the posters looked gay, (by the way, I'm taking that word back to it's schoolyard meaning, deal with it).

I mean, NO ONE thought it looked good when the posters first went up. But between seasons I caught an episode and fell in love instantly.

I then bought the season on itunes and sat down for the next 4 days and watched the whole thing with my wife, and we were hooked.

I tried spreading the gospel and getting friends into it, but no one was biting, everyone who was into the MC world thought it was weak, and those who didn't know anything about bikes or the culture thought it would be too inside.

Still, I persisted, and told anyone who would listen about how epic this show was and when I wasn't Tweeting about it or posting something on my Facebook, I was hard-selling it to the unconverted like a snake oil salesman.

Come premiere night of Season Two it seems some people listened, cause now everyone who checked it out was telling me how sick it was. Granted, it was one of the most craze episodes of TV ever, let alone a record breaking season premiere for cable television, but the point is, those who doubted were now converts and suddenly I was the go-to guy to explain what was what and recap season 1 for the newly initiated.

I have done everything but rename my son Jax and write a spec script to submit to Kurt Sutter (debating doing so), but I digress.

While you could definitely nitpick it to death about authenticity, the point remains, it's fucking good television.

It would be lazy to call it The Soprano's set in the MC world, but I have even done so when someone didn't get the, "Hamlet set in the Norcal MC world" reference. Basically, it's a family drama punctuated by extreme violence that has you laughing at the most inappropriate shit, in the end, it's just it's own thing.

If you haven't seen it yet, give in, you'll be hooked, if you're hating on it, it's your loss, and if you are already as addicted as me, I feel sorry for you.

That said, anyone wearing the rockers you can buy on ebay, is just Gary with a silent R.

You watch the show long enough, even a vintage freak like me starts dreaming of an old FXR.

Or even better, a push button, dependable, blacked out Street Bob.

Or the bike Jax Teller himself rides; a nice Super Glide.

(I've already reached out to Harley Davidson to see if they'd like to sponsor me and kick me a bike at a discount, you know, sort of like the Emerica wild ride thing, except instead of being a professional skateboarder, I'm a mediocre skateboarder and a singer in a rock band, kind of a good deal for them if you ask me. Still waiting to hear back.)

My boy Yosi Sergant was just at the center of a huge controversy that wasn't really one until Glen Beck made it so.

Yosi is one of my best friends, a stellar human being, selfless, devoted, kind, good hearted, and just blazing awesome 24/7, so it was a shame that an entertainment personality who has enough vapid followers to matter was able to stir up such a hoopla about so very little.

Yosi was very much responsible for this little poster you may have seen before.

(If you think Obama's a socialist who's taking your guns that's cool, you're entitled to be wrong, I'm just talking about my friend.)

On a lighter note, at a Chik-Fil-A in the great state of Texas, this kid was trying to watch me drop a deuce.

Thankfully Adam 12 caught him in the act.

This kid's future is fucked, and it ain't' the president's fault.

From fucked future to fucked past.

The 70's.

The other day I was at County USC medical center visiting one of my dearest friends who was injured in a motorcycle accident. (Mr. Michael Barragan of Evil Spirit Engineering who you may remember from my earlier posts as the man who's building my bike with me. He's recovering and doing well but your thoughts would still be appreciated, plus I'm sure we'll be having a benefit of some sort, so stay tuned - side note, you want to see why everyone needs health insurance, go to County USC Hospital)...and while waiting for visiting hours outside I was approached by a skinny, frail, aging gang member who was asking to buy a cigarette. I don't smoke, but my boy gave him one, and as he reached out his thin, heavily tattooed arm with an enormous abscess, I noticed a tattoo of a particularly gnarly prison gang on his arm.

Point being, that guy was hardcore.

When I was a kid, this was marketed as hardcore.

This on the other hand, scared the shit out of me.

Even though I knew the Van Patten kid from spending my summers in Malibu, this was frightening.

Gone was the cute, eye batting, ball playing Salami from The White Shadow.

Here was a vision of the not-so-distant future in which a bunch of pretty punkers who would never make it in a Penelope Spheeris movie were unleashed on an unsuspecting school, teacher, and his wife.

I mean, when the punkers are raping the teacher's wife, things have gone too far.

I haven't seen it in ages, but it's been recently re-released on DVD, and I'm gonna be it holds up.

And though I'd love for just one post of mine to NOT contain a memorial to a friend or hero who died, it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to one of the good ones.

JJ Klein.

I was unable to make the memorial service, as I was on the road, but she was a sweetheart, funny as hell, a rockin' drummer, cute as a button, a nice Jewish girl, and taken way too young.

RIP

XO