Pre-Japan Sunday Shralp.

I left for Japan on a Tuesday, this shit was from Sunday right before the trip.


Me and my ranking #1 man went shopping for postcards in Chinatown.


Not gonna fall for a banana in the tailpipe.


This one was for my girl Jaime Reyes in New York. All-over 80's print speedo action. So hot right now.


For my man Chane Lokesta in Chicago. He likes them big body giiirrls!


Private screening.


Ever get the feeling you were being watched?


Shoe nerds wet dream.


The Captain is down with APB, has been since day one.


I gave Chad a kiss all the way from Hershey, Pennsylvania one time.


Rob Carlyon went back in time, rocking the 1991 steelo.


Can you name all of the dudes on the cover of the first APB video? If you can, you just might be O.G.


Kenneth on some slim-fast shit like 8 years ago.


Circa 2001, Chad and Darin Lee were editing the second APB video, lowercase. Me, Chane, Kenny, Chad, Darin, and Rob all lived in the same apartment building, a.k.a. The Dormitory directly across the street from the Makiki skatepark. Rob could actually watch people skate from his bedroom window. That was either really rad, or extremely lame, I don't remember.


Around that same time, these dudes took a trip to Maui to go shred. L to R we have a Pre-fight club Rob Carlyon, a ponytailed stickman Kenny Brimer, the now missing in action Neal Nagata, who many still consider to have been the raddest skater in APB history, an insanely jiggy and baggy videographer Chad Hiyakumoto, and an equally wiggery and youthful looking Colonel Kyle Collins.


The ultimate flashback. Peep the long hair, flipped up trucker, flannel, sweatpants, Vision Street Ghost, Swatch watch, ahhh...enough already. This was my senior in high school steez. A loooooong time ago.


But then again, you always have to be diggin' in the crates for the classics. 1994, New Deal Children Of The Sun video. Boys from the APB squad doin' big things back then! Haven't seen this? Get a late pass! Or just watch this YouTube shit right 'chea... Our man Rob with the opening part:



And then last but not least, the man, the myth, Cuzzo from Fitted Hawaii, Rene Matthyssen himself with the curtains.
That's last part if you're retarded:


Good to know your history if you weren't there to live it!


Back to the modern day grind. Kenneth shows his love for the man.


The Colonel waxes poetic at Taxis. Did anyone catch the last episode of Lost? Michael was lurking there in his flashback scene, it was supposed to be NYC, but whatevs. We know our fucking Taxis when we see it.


This piece of shit makes other pieces of shit more slidable and grindable.


Mark-ass-busta-ass-trick-ass-ho!


The most O.G. of O.G. spots on in the state. Respect due!


Big up Steve McGarrett. You ain't knowin'? Do your homework, youngin'!


My man was cold chillin'. I think he was like a few months late for the APB video premiere at Red Elephant, but oh well. His whole style screamed for a candid flick. I gladly obliged.


Dudes were dancing on curbs and shit.


Speaking of shit, Jerm has some in his hand and The Colonel is about to be rolling some.


Lineup.


More heads rolled up. We had a deep-ass crew by now.


Bonus video clip, why not? The Blaze gets mannyish on some no complizzy type shit.


Outta here. We split downtown and went over the river and through the woods to Chazz's house. He was showing off the new cock graphic, hella tight, blood.


Chuck was explaining some hi-tech movie shit, his film begins shooting any day now.


Zana had some wild animal selections for the feast.


I was feelin' crab style the most.


Chef regulators. You can't be any geek off the street, and you gotta be real handy with the steel if you know what I mean.


Bedpan/Colonel collabo snuggle moment.


Wyland was owning the vert wall.


Spidermanning it.


Hamming it.


I mean REALLY hamming it.


Stalefish tuck styling it.


Seanny, couch surfing it.


Makoto, every blunt in the booking it.


S.J., soft drinking it.


It was long and hard, (that's what she said) but the day was all-around killer.

The next time you see blog shit here, it will be on some Japanese type shit from Nihon land.

Until then, don't forget to check out the all-new and re-tooled DOWNWITHAPB.COM, we put up some new shit over there including Kaikea Kimura's team profile (finally) and the Girl Lunch Break Invitational contest video, where you can see my boy Jordan DeOliveira killing shit at his workplace, where he took first place in the Girl Skateboards employee skate contest.

Later, skater!

APB-sides part 3.

Okay. I Almost have all the shitty unreleased team profiles out of the way. Brian's one actually wasn't that bad now that I read it again, but really, it was not that great. Jarold's- I was really just super lazy and banged it out half-ass (that's what she said) and it really shows I think. I'm pretty sure Jarold's was the worst. This latest one though is the last of the ones that I really don't like. This one was written for Danny Hamaguchi, and I think I was trying to be cute and make it so that Danny was on some Jeopardy-like quiz show champion genius shit, which is basically 100 percent not how he is in real life. I was trying to put him in a situation that one would never in a million years picture him and I got carried away. Fuck it. It's not very good, but Danny is beyond good on a skateboard, so I don't think it matters.


Danny got 2nd place at the 2007 Girl Open House contest and got props from the bossman Rick Howard.


This incredible photograph of Danny was taken by Atiba Jefferson and is featured in the newest issue of The Skateboard Mag. I wrote the caption for this frontside nosegrind at Pearl City Highlands, but after re-watching Danny's video part I realized that he 180'd out of this shit and I didn't write that he did. Well fuck, I'm writing it now. Frontside nosegrind frontside 180 out. Wow. That's gnarly.

Anyway, here's Danny's unseen profile:

Danny Hamaguchi:

The Korean kid and his two partners strolled into the park like they owned it. It had been a week since they came down and punked out Panda and that fake-ass Creampuff. These kids were young, but they were serious. They didn’t even skate good, in fact they flat-out sucked balls, but that didn’t matter much. They had the power now. Most of the smaller kids were openly terrified of them, however Danny hadn’t even flinched when they rolled by and ice grilled him with a look that would have sent the others scurrying over the bridge and into Chinatown. The three of them came to a stop right next to the bottom of the mellow quarter pipe where Danny sat splitting a fresh Dutch open. “Hey…you Danny??”, the small one that was even littler than Danny spoke first. “I heard you think you bad…”, he added, all the while standing over him while the other two hung back a bit, but still ready to go if need be. Danny barely looked up from his cigarillo surgery and waited a couple of beats before responding sarcastically with the trademark “Huuuuuuuh?” he was known throughout the local skateboard scene for. The answer was meant to be backhanded and annoying, and it hit the mark perfectly. Bullseye. The kid was really pissed now. “Stand up, you fucking wise-ass punk.” he was looking Danny right in the eye. Danny had played this very scenario out in his head for the past week straight, and it was unfolding exactly just how he had pictured it. He took his time getting up, and this seemed to push the kid’s buttons even harder. “Hurry up, you little faggot. You know what time it is…” the kid was really agitated now. Danny finally rose and stood to his full five foot two, and he and the kid were now nearly face to face. By this time everyone in the park had long stopped skating and a small crowd gathered on top of the plaza and some stood on the curved ledge for a better view. “You ready to do this, bitch?” the kid asked. Danny was a mere six inches from his face, and hadn’t blinked since he stood up. “Go for yours…” Danny icily responded. The tension in the park was thick, and the crowd collectively held their breath. Boom. The shit popped off. Hard. “Capital of Hungary.” the kid spat out. “Shiiiiit…Budapest, fool.” came the response, and with the quickness. “Nineteenth U.S. President.” the kid shot back. “Rutherford B. Hayes…come on, duke. You embarrassing yourself.” Danny retorted. The kid looked over at his two henchmen, who could do nothing but shrug. The kid fixed his glare back at Danny. “National currency of Zambia.” “Kwacha, motherfucker. This shit supposed to be challenging or something?” Danny cooly answered back. The park locals stood transfixed and frozen with amazement. “Pee Wee Reese’s batting average in 1954.” The crowd let out a collective groan. Danny hated sports, no way he was getting this one. “You serious? A baseball question? You gotta be kidding.” Danny responded. “What’s the matter, fuck face? I thought you were bad…” the kid just sounded like a little prick now. Danny feigned ignorance for a second and scratched his head several times. “Hmmmm…lemme see. Born Harold Henry Reese July 23rd, 1918 in Ekron, Kentucky. Batted right, threw right. Sixteen seasons with the Dodgers, lifetime .269 average, but that particular season batted, hmmmm…lemme throw out a wild guess, I dunno, how about we go with .309? How that sound?” Danny’s answer had the kid visibly shook now. The crowd was straight up stunned. Now the kid was beyond nervous. He had heard that Danny was sharp, but this was just fucking ridiculous. He looked over again at his two companions with a deer in headlights expression. It was clear that he didn’t expect this, but Danny obviously did. The kid’s mouth opened, but no words could come out. He stood there speechless for what seemed like an eternity, then finally shut his trap. “Goddamn” he thought to himself. “This little bastard knows his shit…”

TO BE CONTINUED…