Sunday, February 27, 2011
When anyone mentions "collective" to describe anything to do with art - I roll my eyes. 'Cause it usually means way more message than art. Sadly, that's they way Fifty and Fifty describe themselves - "a collective, currated project. That's a fancy way of saying - 50 designers were picked and given 50 U.S. state mottos. The designers were then asked to illustrate/design an image incorporating the motto. Overall it's not a bad idea - it turned out some cool stuff...
Unfortunately, quite of few of the designers have acted like recent art school graduates and produced some steaming piles of shit - their western shirts must be too tight... Too much message, not enough art.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Over the past several years, I've developed a serious crush on GM OHV inline sixes - actually inline sixes in general. I ran across this modern take on an old school "Jimmy" six, made my heart go pitter patter...
Here's the article from BangShift...
"Gary Hart's 1951 Chevy truck build is really looking awesome. The lines of a classic early 1950s Chevy are tough to beat, but the real star of this show is the engine. Hart is using an old school GMC "Jimmy" six that will feature fuel injection, distributor-less ignition, and most importantly, a turbocharger. There's something really neat about attacking an old school engine with new technology. The Jimmy is a tough customer, so a little boost should go a long way.
Gary has a long history in Land Speed Racing. He previously raced a turbocharged Buick straight eight engine, so he's familiar with force feeding an old engine to get the most out of it.
There's some really neat fabrication going on as well, with stainless pipes from a factory used as pieces of the turbo plumbing. Gary is doing the whole truck by himself and hopes to have it ready to go by the mid summer. The coil packs on the side plate look 100% bad ass!"More picts here...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Apparently, Americans are to fucking stupid to realize that Zombie Jerky is not made from real zombies. Thank God for the heroes at the USDA!
Maybe they should be worryin' about salomela or botulism or e. coli or some other food-borne bacteria that really will turn you into a zombie...
"It's hard enough marketing snack foods to zombies without the U.S. Department of Agriculture being persnickety about the wording on the label.
That's what Aaron Rasmussen of Harcos Laboratories, a Los Angeles-based maker of novelty products and food items, discovered last summer when the company decided to create Zombie Jerky, a line of beef jerky designed specifically for zombies and the people who love them."
Read the rest of the story at AOLNews...
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Balls of Depleted Uranium Required!
Like the author of this piece, I ain't the biggest fan of really old cars, but this bastard is a little different. It is an automobile distilled into it's essential parts. I can't imagine doin' 100+ mph in this thing.
The whole story from Hooniverse:
Way back in 1904, a man named Victor Hémery joined Darracq as their chief car tester. He set to work right away in developing vehicles to win races. Even back then, Darracq saw the potential for race victories to raise the profile of their brand and boost sales of their street cars. To that end, Hémery began a project to develop a race car faster than anything else in the world.
By 1905, that project was complete, with the assistance of another French racing driver who had been working for Fiat, by the name of Louis Chevrolet. They had heavily modified two Darracq four-cylinder engines, mating them together to create a 90-degree V8. As each 4-cylinder engine had come from a 100-hp race car, they nominally called the car a 200-hp car and called it a day. In reality, with the heavy modifications they had done on the engine, it was likely producing significantly more. This, at a time when a fairly “powerful” production car would be producing 20 horsepower. Incidentally, the engine displaced about 25.4L.
The only cool Vespa - not really. It's gotta 75mm recoiless rifle and it's still dorky.
"The Vespa 150 TAP is an Italian Vespa scooter modified to transport a M20 75 mm recoilless rifle, which was used in the 1950s by the French Airborne Forces (Troupes aéroportées, or TAP). It was produced by Ateliers de Construction de Motocycles et Automobiles (ACMA), a licensed assembler of Vespas in France, in 1956 and 1959.
I've always had a bit of a soft spot for VW buses - unfortunately, they always get associated with stupid fuckin' hippies. This site features an ass load of photos and illustrations showing the more utilitarian side of this vehicle.
From Ze Last Chance Garage du 7/8.
I was checking out old Hot Rod magazine covers here. While looking for more info on one of the cars featured on a cover, I found this site. It's a collection of photos from the 1948 SCTA Meet. Some good picts of some old school speedsters...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
From ScooterMcRad check out the link to see a whole bunch o' cool picts... Of course, I chose the one from the Toyota museum...
"Panel forming bucks have long been used to construct and form hand made body panels in the automotive industry. They help define the shape of the body and offer a guide for the sheet metal artists to work their shaping magic.
Since I've been looking at various designs lately, I thought I would share some of the pictures I found of wooden bucks used by various people over the years. Maybe they will help someone else with their panel forming tasks..."
James Gurney's a bit of a Pinko, but he's one hell of an illustrator. I interviewed him in college for an illustration class and he was incrediblynice and gracious. Anyways, I found a story about what he carries in his bag for illustration when traveling.
I found the story on a TOTAL Pinko's website - BoingBoing. Yeah, I know the hi-pocrisy - I do have a link to his site over there on the right... Moronic commie or not, he still has some decent stuff on his site...
Rev. Johnny L. "Hurricane" Jones - One More Time from "Jesus Christ from A to Z" by dusttodigital
If you done lost yo' religion and need somebody to help you get it back do not rely on The Best iPhone Photographer in the World - he will lead you astray. However, he can direct you to some damn fine tunes. Like this one he turned me on to today from Parlortone - the following is from their site:
"More than a half-century ago, a young country preacher from backwoods Alabama came to the big city and made his name leading one of Atlanta’s largest Baptist congregations. In a great Southern metropolis renowned for its preachers, Rev. Johnny L. Jones stood out for his unique delivery that combined solid theological grounding and moody, explosive flights into a high-turbulence zone between song and speech, earning him a reputation as the Fireball Preacher and more famously, The Hurricane. "Jesus Christ from A to Z" (PT-4001) was compiled from more than 50 years of reel-to-reel tapes of live church recordings."more
The Best iPhone Photographer in the World has been trying to wrench me out of a musical black hole I've been in since the break up of the Dexateens. He's been randomly sending me lil' tidbits like this in an attempt to see me musically happy again. I don't think I'll every be outta this gloom, but Junior Kimbrough don't hurt. I'm pretty familiar with him, but honestly hadn't thought about the guy in a few years... Damn, I'm an idiot.
If you ain't heard 'em or have forgotten him like me, take a listen again...
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
I have to confess, as much as I've studied Patton and read about him, I've just always assumed he carried a Colt 1873 "Peace Maker" - but doin' some quick research I've discovered I was wrong. He carried one Colt and one S & W Model 27 (actually, it was before S & W numbered pistols - N frame) with a 3.5" barrel. Pictures courtesy of Patton Museum at Fort Knox...
I was thinking about General Patton this weekend. I love the speech at the beginning of the movie Patton - as do all real Americans. I've heard that it was a composite of a number of speeches. However, I think it was just an abridged version of the speech he gave on June 5, 1944 - just before the invasion of Europe. I dunno if this is true or not - but I used the source used on Wikipedia - so you know it's gotta be true. Anyways, this is long, but it's well worth reading. So be a real American and read the Goddamned speech! The speech came from PattonHQ.com...
Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, everyone of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-American football players. Americans love a winner. Americans will not tolerate a loser. Americans despise cowards. Americans play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an American.
You are not all going to die,only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood. Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Americans pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.
All through your Army careers, you men have bitched about what you call "chicken shit drilling". That, like everything else in this Army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a fuck for a man who's not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you're not alert, sometime, a German son-of-an-asshole-bitch is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of shit!
There are four hundred neatly marked graves somewhere in Sicily, all because one man went to sleep on the job, but they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before they did. An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse shit. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about fucking! We have the finest food, the finest equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By God, I do.
My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just bull shit either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the lieutenant in Libya, who, with a Luger against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the Kraut with his helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another German before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a bullet through a lung. There was a real man!
All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn't like the whine of those shells overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly bastard could say, "Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands". But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our country, our loved ones, our homes, even the world, be like? No, Goddamnit, Americans don't think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the 'G.I. Shits'.
Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goddamned cowards and we will have a nation of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of a telegraph pole in the midst of a furious fire fight in Tunisia. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, "Fixing the wire, Sir". I asked, "Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?" He answered, "Yes Sir, but the Goddamned wire has to be fixed". I asked, "Don't those planes strafing the road bother you?" And he answered, "No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!" Now, there was a real man. A real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds. And you should have seen those trucks on the road to Tunisia. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old American guts. Many of those men drove for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren't combat men, but they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.
Don't forget, you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be here in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the Goddamned Germans. Some day I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Jesus Christ, it's the Goddamned Third Army again and that son-of-a-fucking-bitch Patton'.
We want to get the hell over there the quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Japs and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Marines get all of the credit.
Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Tokyo. And when we get to Berlin I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-bitch Hitler. Just like I'd shoot a snake!
When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a German will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Germans that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living Goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket. War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend beside you, you'll know what to do!
I don't want to get any messages saying, "I am holding my position." We are not holding a Goddamned thing. Let the Germans do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a goose; like shit through a tin horn!
From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goddamn about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more Germans we will kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that."
There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, "Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana." No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, "Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Georgie Patton!"
Back in day, before big dollar sponsors and C of T, NASCAR consisted of a bunch of rednecks driving like bats outta hell. No drafting, no HANS devices, no strategies - just balls to the walls racing...
I'm not hatin' - completely - on NASCAR. It still is a redneck sport - the only national one. But I've seen a lotta changes since the late 70's - when I first started watching. It's just not the same - and not as good.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Been eyein' this cherry Gran Prix in the parking lot of my neighborhood Publix. It belongs to someone who works at the store - I see it all the time. It appears this thing has never been repainted or redone. The interior is used but doesn't look bad for the age.
This car is so cool because you never see a GM A-Body in this shape - or not around the ATL. They usually looked ragged-ragged out or super ghettofied. It's nice to see something this stock and in this good original shape.
It reminds me of my original ride - 1978 Cutlass Supreme.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Excellent write up of Steve McQueen from the SelvedgeYard.
Steve McQueen personified the “anti-hero” in Hollywood at a time when the emerging counterculture in America was challenging the very definition of what a true “hero” is. Maybe a better way to look at it is– heroism is an act. To live an idealistic, heroic life without fault is ultimately impossible. We all struggle with aligning our beliefs and goals in life with what is truly right. The fact is there are grey areas that we have to be honest about. We saw the good and bad in McQueen, and loved him anyway– in fact, we loved him for it. He was honest about who he was...
Read the rest of the article...
These folks are based out in Ogden, Utah. They remanufacture military trucks and more. It looks like the kinda place I'd love to spend a lotta cash...
Check out their site - it looks like it was designed in 1995 - but it gives you a good idea of the sorta stuff they do.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
"Using chambers cut off 12 ga. scrap barrels and a new $10 bbl for an Italian auto shotgun, the only other gun part is a scrapped hammer from a 1857 Remington perc revolver. Loads like a SAA Colt but underlever rotates and cocks it. Blow-by is negligible, hardly noticeable with normal shirt sleeve."
I originally found it on HackADay.com
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Just finished listening to Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut on the BBC when I saw this on Atlas Obscura - They have found the location of Schlachthof Fünf in Dresden and you can take tours of it as well.
"In Kurt Vonnegut's book Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death, the main character Billy Pilgrim is captured by the Germans and taken to Dresden. In Dresden, Billy is held in an unused slaughterhouse, "Slaughterhouse number 5." From this location Billy as well as his captors survive the bombing of Dresden, which killed some 25,000 people in the ensuing firestorm. "