Sunday School.

Yeah, it's been a while, but who really gives a shit?
It's time for another lesson on how to spend an average Sunday.
Class is now in session.


Somewhere in the mountains.


Hidden in the jungle.


Is this guy doing something fancy on this contraption.


Time to visit The Colonel. Not THAT Colonel. THIS Colonel.


Kenny is pretty close with the Colonel, actually.


As is he.


Some more dudes rolled up.


This guy had a brand new rig. A nice one!


New In4mation boards are scintillating and sensational.


In fact, the real Kool Keith was putting one together himself.


Cookie had the ill new Lakais.


In case you didn't know, D. Lee is back in town and representing Millz town to the fullest. It's dope having someone around that's just as sarcastic and angry as I am.


He sees things a lot like I do, but I have no idea what he's looking at here.


Mililani O.G.'s stand up! By the way, Ian Okui is the only person who is allowed to skate with headphones on. All you other shitbags can stuff earbuds up your unsociable asses.


Post Office chillin'.


Left downtown to get some Sunday schoolwork done.


The ghetto is a must on the session, Reilly always has the sounds on lock.


Sometimes it pays to keep it analog.


On some get out of the rain type shit. Planter/curb/flatground fuck around.


Attack Of the Killer Haoles is still in the works as you can see. It's an interesting conceptual video with a lot of ins, a lot of outs, a lot of what-have-yous. It should be out by the time that new Guns N Roses album is released.


"Bernardo Bernard is the rippingest skater in town!!!" It was his birthday, too. Now able to ruin himself in bars legally.


Darin Lee having road rage flashbacks.


In4mants pondering curb power moves.


I have no idea.


The ill dance moves.


How to mall grab.


Thickly crewed up.


Then to the rasta spot for Bernardo's birthday present, a year's supply of incense. Psyche. We went to get some drinks for the kid's 21st.


Racked a few games of this but the darts were way more heated. No pictures though. Full-on bloodbath type shit.


My man was stoked to see Timmy in the house.


I mean, like, reeeally happy.


Cheers, Bernardo!

APB-sides: part 6.

The first time I saw Tim Jackson, he was skating in some stupid best trick type of contest and I thought to myself "Holy shit, that dude looks exactly like Tyrone Olson!" He had a pretty tight fade going on and he was shirtless and sweaty, just like T-Bone.


I mean he looked just like Tyrone Olson in every way except for the fact that Timmy didn't look like he had to take a super gnarly dump while he was skating, and by that I mean that Tyrone Olson always looked like he was holding in a serious Patty Duke and was just too busy firing off crop duster 360 flips to stop and find a toilet. Seriously.

Anyway, that was a long time ago. I don't think of T-Bone anymore when I think of Tim Jackson.
I think of TIMMAAAYYYY!


See, this dude is fucking gangster.


I remember being seriously hyped when Tim got on APB, he threw together a super sick video part really fast and Chad and Darin put it at the end of the lower case video to welcome him to the team.
The first team profile I wrote for Tim had him hosting a cable access fishing show.
I don't know how I came up with this one, it started off so small and then just spiraled out of control.
I like the ending.

Tim Jackson:

The other major players in town hated Timmy, and with good reason. He had been on top of the game for years, and nobody could seem to find a way to take him out. It definitely wasn't for lack of trying, though. One would be hard-pressed to count the number of times he had been challenged by hungry up-and-comers. Numerous new jacks had decided to test him despite his stellar credentials and nefarious reputation, but each time a new adversary quickly rose up on the scene, he was violently cut down just as fast.

Soon, people outside the usually tight-knit and close lipped Hawaii circuit began to notice. Big fish. Real G's. Bangers with heavy reps from across the ocean. They came from L.A., Frisco, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, Memphis, Miami, Atlanta, Philly, D.C., Boston, and New York City. Each one was more hardcore than the last, but Timmy dispatched them with the quickness. His methods of disposal were as aesthetically pleasing as they were psychologically diabolical.

More and more as time passed and the enemies piled up, the government began to get wind of Timmy's exploits and soon set up surveillance on him and his entire Manoa-based operation. It was through this intricate surveillance, which included extremely hi-tech miniature video cameras and extensive audio wiretaps, that the authorities built a case file on Timmy that was rumored to be thicker than the Honolulu white pages. For six months they kept an extremely close eye on him, but it was only when Tim took out the top guy from Houston on a windy Thursday night in April that they decided it was time to serve him with the papers.

The two agents came up Manoa Road and pulled their car directly in front of Tim and Jeremy's place for a second, but remembered as per their surveillance that the old man who was the landlord hated outside vehicles on his property, so they reluctantly parked the Crown Vic around the corner. Mere minutes later, the smell of May's teriyaki hamburger patties and Mickey's malt liquor permeated the air as the federales cautiously walked down the grassy path to the rear entrance. Reilly was the first to look up and notice the two older guys in suits. "Shit! Five-O, Five-O!!" he blurted out. Timmy quickly looked up from the grill, and the spatula audibly fell from his hand.

"Relax, boys. We're not the police." the dark haired one with the nerdy glasses spoke first. "You two look like a couple of goddamn feds to me..." Jeremy slurred as he squinted through glazed eyes, he was already three forties deep and it was only 8:30. The other one with the shiny tie and expensive looking shoes shot a smug glance in Jeremy's direction and chuckled to himself for a moment before he answered. "Bingo. Give that man a Swisher Sweet." He switched his attention over to Timmy, who was slowly inching away from the grill towards the door. "Hey, Timmy. Do yourself a favor. Freeze. Don't you move another fucking inch..." he said in a raspy voice that was barely above a whisper. Timmy heard the man, but his mind was racing and his options were dwindling quick.

"What's this all about?" Timmy inquired. "Awww, don't be coy. You know exactly why we're here, Jackson..." the one with the glasses replied as he moved considerably closer. His partner carefully reached into his coat pocket, his eyes still trained directly on Timmy, who was now noticeably sweating. "Easy, Tim. Take it nice and easy... I've got something for you here." His voice crackled with a slight hint of uneasiness. He pulled out a white envelope, and held it up in plain sight. He extended the envelope towards Timmy with his right hand and stood there waiting for him to accept it. Tim was worried, no question about it. He had avoided the authorities for a long time, but in the back of his mind, he knew that this would come someday.

Tim took a deep breath and grabbed the envelope. He glanced over at Sean. He knew there was a possibility that he might never see his floor dwelling houseguest again. He looked at Jeremy, his roommate and confidant, but the Germ was in no condition to even stand anymore, let alone keep his eyes open. He tore into the paper and unfolded the official looking sheet with the government seal on it contained within. He scanned the paper and had to read it to himself three times in order to fully comprehend the magnitude of its message. A single, glistening tear appeared in his left eye and trickled down his face with the consistency of molasses. "I...I...can't believe it. I..I..don't know what to say". Tim's voice was barely audible as he choked on the words.

"What? What the fuck does it say? Timmy! Talk to me, man!" Reilly interjected. Tim couldn't speak now,he was visibly moved and overcome with emotion. "What the fuck, dude??" Sean couldn't wait any longer and snatched the paper from Timmy's trembling hand. He read it word for word and soon wore the same expression on his face that Tim had. He had to read it out loud to completely grasp the reality of the situation, and he carefully sounded out the contents of the document. "Timothy Jackson, you are hereby served notice that the United States Olympic Committee has selected you as a member of the United States national handball team and you are now declared officially eligible for competition in the 2008 Summer Olympic games which are to be held in Beijing, China. Congratulations, Tim, and welcome to the team." Sean, stunned, looked over at Timmy. "Holy shit!" Reilly exclaimed. "They have handball in the Olympics?"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Holy ebay Batman!

Our rummaging ruffian Kyle Collins found this gem at the local Goodwill. OG J. Lee when Earl was on top of his game riding for World Industries. He said he bought it for 8 bucks. It was a complete with old Indy's and rails which he took off. I'll say if he was to put this on the bay it could go for at least $500 bucks. But leave it up to Collins to say he'd rather ride it.

Natural Koncept East Coast Tour.

I don't know, what do you think, possible hi-jinx? Maybe a bit of ruckus here and there? Looks to me like a full-blown situation is about to happen next week in the eastern United States, I'm pretty sure homeland security is shaking in their booties.

Me, I am just super stoked that my man Sean Patrick Reilly is going to be involved in this because just recently he was unsure if he would be able to make the trip with the rest of his NK brethren due to financial reasons, but the braddahs over there finally hooked it up and I just want to say congratulations to the higher-ups at Natural Koncept for making the executive decision to involve the Bedpan in their east coast summer tour. Reilly brings so much more to the table than his obvious skateboarding talent, and I'm sure that there will be ample opportunities during this trip for him to showcase his incredible abilities that reach far beyond shredding on a wooden plank.

Also, it will be a great chance for my man to stack more footage for his loooooong-awaited and highly anticipated video "Attack Of The Killer Haoles", which he is working very hard to put together as soon as possible. This video can't come out soon enough, and some tour antics captured on a road trip of this magnitude would really put this project over the top, methinks.

And if Reilly wasn't enough raw dog flavor and reallness for this tour, our homies Kale Sandridge


and Chris Kays


are going to be right there alongside him for the ride. We're talking heavyweight local shredders right here, representing Hawaii on the mainland and showing motherfuckers what's really hood in the 'aina.

Oh yeah, one more thing, buy Chris and Kale's boards!
Shit's fucking ill, support the troops!

Small kine summer skatepark samples.

Recently our good friends Masa and Miko came from Japan to visit for a nice three week long holiday. The two of them were my main contacts and more than gracious hosts in Tokyo when I went to get my solo shred on in Japan back in March, so I was super psyched when they decided to return here to their second home recently for a killer extended vacation. They got here near the end of May and brought a huge posse of tomodachi with them. The crew was like 15 deep and consisted of Masa and Miko's friends that make up the hardcore punk band No All and also the ska outfit Oi-Skall Mates.





The two bands played a couple of incredible shows at Anna Banana's with local bands like The 86 List and Go Jimmy Go, and several of the members of both bands are skaters. We enjoyed a few sessions with these guys at spots from A'ala Park to Cholo's. Masa and Miko's friends left Hawaii after about a week, but Masa and Miko stayed for another two weeks.

During the duration of their stay in Hawaii Masa got to not only re-acquaint himself with a bunch of old standbys, but also a few new places that he never had the chance to during any of his previous and numerous visits. For instance, my man was beyond stoked to get the chance to roll out to Chuck's warehouse in Kailua three Tuesdays in a row, the first of which was only hours after his initial arrival to Honolulu. Yeah, in between the new and the old, it would be an understatement to say that Masa skated a shitload the whole time he was here.

Among his favorites were the many times he headed over to the Kamiloiki park in Hawaii Kai, and of course Masa made the drive out to Kapolei a few times to shred the bowls with Noodles and the Sunday crew, that goes without saying, but despite the fact that Masa had been here a bunch of times previously and skated a ton of spots on the island, there were still a few places that he had not gotten the chance to lay his wheels down upon.

I narrowed it down to the skateparks that he hadn't visited yet. They were Keolu in Kailua, the Kaneohe park, and the Mililani skatepark. I immediately ruled out the Kaneohe park because that place fucking sucks. Sorry, it's just not a good overall park. If you skate there and have fun there, good for you. I'm super stoked for you. Enjoy. Also, I didn't want him to experience the disappointment that is the Keolu park in Kailua. Such incredible potential, definitely must have looked good on paper but in person a crying fucking shame. No offense, Chuck! I love you brah, I just am not feeling either one of those places at all and didn't want to subject my homie to them.

So that left Mililani. Not that I like that waste of space either, but it was most definitely the lesser of the three evils. Believe me, I am not a fan of that place or it's layout and design, both of which happened to come from the mind of one of my best friends, Chad. Even Chad would tell you that the Mililani park is a piece of shit compared to what it could have been. Anyway, I thought that we could roll out there to give Masa a taste of it, and then hit up the Manana park in Pearl City on the way back.

On Wednesday, June 11th me and my little bodysurfing partner Brian Wyland had a super fun shred session at Point Panic in the morning, and then in the early afternoon we met up with Masa and Miko along with Mako Ozaki for the little road trip out to Mills.


Makiki is Mako's hood. We posted up on the street and waited to meet Makoto-san.


Look! There he is! Makohhhhhhh-tohhhhhhh!


Here he comes!


Sup, brah!


B-Dubbs had to screen his visage from le' soleil.


Mission accomplished, Barney!


Visitors finally rolled up.


Speaking of rolling, Masa definitely knows what's up!


Ready to split? Like your boy Marvo would say, "Let's go..."


Leave town.


Head north.


This is it.


Alternate view.


Brian was totally in the juice pouch section for this frontside tailslide.




I swam over a couple of kids to get in position for this backside ollie.


Even though the bowl section was mushy and doubled up, Masa was happy to jump in.


Dude has the mean frontal snaps on lock.


They were feeling it!


Makoto pulled out the big guns for some snipeage.


This dude rolled up on the parking lot scene like the Count of Monte' Cristo.


Sick manny.


Tight nose wheelie.


Homie struck a pose and then dipped out. So did we.


Can I get some nachos? Yeah nachos!


Portagee pride on the way to Pearl City.


Sup, bully?


Got to P.C. and this dude was already there on some video paparazzi shit.


Noodles has been steady shredding Pearl City since before 95 percent of the Manana locs were even born.


It's hot as balls out there.


Stay hydrated.


Brian was kind of bummed when he paddled over to the hip and realized that there were like 20 guys out already.


So he sat on the outside until the set wave rolled through. Dudes tried to drop in but B-Dubbs gave 'em all one big "HO!" and they backed right off.


Masa thinks the spine section at Manana is cho tanoshii.


Little man dropped right in.


Noods presented Masa with this fine omiyage, courtesy of the neighborhood's only real skate shop.


So let's go there, it's right down the road. Fuck that mall bullshit, this Hawaiian keeps it really real.


Even the locs in the parking lot outside knows what's up.


Shootin' the shit.


Meet the dogs.


Keia boy.


China girl.


Headed back to home base for the night session.


Can't touch this!


Thanks for the heads-up, bro.


Heavy sticker action since way back.


Brian shows Mako just how he tucks into those Point Panic peelers.


Sunset. "Check out the clouds, fool! Check out the clouds!"


"I might crack a smile but ain't a damn thing funny..."


This dude got rolled up on by the fuzz. Busted! I guess this is what they do when they're not giving skaters tickets for being in the park after 9PM. By the way, FUCK YOU, HPD. What's the matter? A'ala Park doesn't have enough ice dealers, crackheads, transvestite prostitutes, thieves, gamblers, overnight campers, or just plain all-around scumbags for you guys to fill your days and nights with that you have to harass hard-working taxpayers that use the park for what it is actually intended for and give them fucking tickets for being around (not even INSIDE the park) 10 fucking minutes after 9 o'clock at night? Fuck each and every single one of you worthless fucking shitheads, you don't deserve to carry the badge. Integrity, respect, and fairness my ass. Again, go fuck yourselves.


Makoto-san wa owarimashita. That means he's finished.


After a long day like this one, the feeling is mutual. DONE. We're out.