New Music: Tonight

This is my new shit.

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REPOST Vodkatron's Wildin' Country of the Week: The Republic of Haiti

As Haiti has tragically managed to find itself in the global eye, I figured some people maybe interested to learn a little more about Haiti; a country that has needed our help for years, with or without the occurrence of natural disaster. The sad truth of the matter is that an earthquake like this would be devastating anywhere else, but is exponentially worse in a country void of infrastructure, effective government, and economic opportunity. And this, the horrid state and quality of life in Haiti, is largely, if not entirely, the result of a global system based around the principles of exploitation and capitalism, a system which keeps few rich and many poor. So, without further rhetoric, here is a repost of "Vodkatron's Wildin' Country of the Week: The Republic of Haiti", originally published on July 3rd of 2008.



Its a land of pristine white sand beaches and lush rain forests. A land where French, Taino and West African influences are found in the language, the cuisine and the art. A land where enchanting mysticism is incorporated into everyday culture. A land where coups are as frequent as elections, and gangs, fresh out of a black-exploitation version of Mad Max: Beyond the Thunderdome, run rampant on the streets. This is a place where UN peace keepers rape fifteen year olds, and disease and famine are an everyday reality. Bienvenue à Haiti.

So, I've given myself a bit of a difficult Wildin' Country of the Week. Don't get me wrong, Haiti is fucking WILDIN' with a capital WILDIN'. But are they wildin' too hard? Is there anyway to make this article funny?

The name Haiti stems from the Taino word 'Ayti' meaning Mountainous land. The country comprises the western half of the island Hispaniola. The first European expedition to Hispaniola was led by Italian sailor and mass-murderer extraordinaire, Cristophero Colombo. He effectively killed all the island's indigenous, wiping the Tainos entirely off the map (which is probably why my spell check doesn't recognize the name). In the next few centuries, the Spanish and French fought over Hispaniola and eventually decided, in the Treaty of Riswick, to divide the island in half. The Spanish had the DR. The French had Saint-Domingue, or present-day Haiti.

Seeing as there were no more natives left alive for manual labour, the French colonists decided they would do it all themselves. Just kidding. In reality, they brought hundreds of thousands of African slaves to the island. By the 1790's, Saint-Domingue was one of the most prosperous colonies in the Carribean. Then the slaves rebelled. Fighting both for emancipation and sovereignty, 1804 saw the first modern slave revolution, and the Republic of Haiti was born.

But dont get too excited ladies and wilders. Assassinations, coups d'etat, secessions, and occupations cloud the next 150 years. In 1957, Francois "Papa Doc" Duvalier was elected president. Bad move. On the list of horrendous contemporary political leaders, I would put Duvalier somewhere between Kim Jung Il and Pol pot. He consolidated power through the use of death squads, most notably the Tonton Macoute (the Creole name for a certain boogie-man). Papa Doc believed himself to be the spiritual embodiment of Haiti. He claimed he was chosen by god, Jesus, and the voodoo deity Laos. His regime killed an estimated 30,000 people directly. Wildin? Yes. Funny? In a Carlos Mencia sort of way.

When Papa Doc passed in 1971, his son Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier took over. Baby Doc was slightly better than his father as he was less interested in directly ensuring his people's suffering and more interested in philanthropic endeavors... such as embezzlement.

In the early 80's, the combination of bad foreign relations, an outbreak of African Swine Fever among the pig population, and a level of government corruption that would make a Congolese prostitute look clean, left the Haitian economy in shambles and famine and malnourishment widespread. For some reason, the population was unhappy with this, and a popular revolution ousted Baby Doc in 1987.

After three years with an interim governments, in what was considered the first fair election in Haitian history, populist preacher-turned-dictator Jean-Bertrand Aristide was elected president. He was shortly thereafter disposed by a coup. For the next three years Aristide campaigned for military help from the US to reinstall in a position of power. The Clinton Administration, in their third military intervention in Haiti, put Aristide back in power.

Now, I know we all love Bill Clinton, and after seven and a half years of George W. Bush, I understand why. But while Clinton never got us into a full scale war, let's be serious, in regards to foreign policy, Bubba was a dirt bag. I can think of five separate occasions when he negatively altered fragile situations in the developing world. If you don't believe me, fuck you. Question: What does the Republic of Haiti and Monica Lewinski have in common? Answer: They both got fucked by Bill Clinton. Only the Cohiba that Clinton used with Haiti was symbolic...and was actually a coup. And Haiti's fragile cooch was actually their government. And Haiti didn't get a book deal or a spot on the talk show circuit.

What Haiti did get, however, is two more all-expenses paid years with Aristide's military dictatorship. Hooray!!

In 1996, Aristide was forced to leave and Renee Preval became president. He actually did a decent job. Aristide seized power again in 2001, and the US and EU put sanctions on Haiti. Renee Preval was elected again in 2006. Today, Haiti is in terrible shape....so not a whole lot has changed.

So what more can I say about Haiti? Its the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, and might be the worst managed state in the world. Still you got to hand it to them, Haiti is wildin' hard. Like, "I have done PCP for forty days straight, and just stole an Aston Martin, and sold it for six dollars wildin'". One question still remains. Is anyone down for Port au Prince Spring Break 09?

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New Video: Sade's Soldier of Love

Alright bitches, I'm gonna be completely honest. I LOVE SADE. Homegirl is like 60 years old and she still makes sexy thoughtful adult music for sexy thoughtful adults like myself. This song is great, and this video is pretty great too (if you assume the desert setting and Enya-esque mood is some kind of postmodern parody of itself).

Soldier Of Love

Sade | MySpace Music Videos

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New Video: Dash Speaks Geography Promo

SOrry I have been gone. I was in Vieques and hardly touched my computer. Anyway, here is a promo video that Mr Aesthetic made for me for my upcoming album.

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Bromenclature of the Day

Bro-Magnon - noun
One of the main types of early bros, dating from roughly 1950 - 1970. Known for their varsity sweaters, adoration of the Kingston Trio, and tendency to date women with two first names (e.g. Peggy-Sue or Louise-May).
ex: There were a lot of Bro-Magnons at Princeton when Scott's father went there.

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Bromenclature of the Day

Brotally - adverb
Completely, or wholly 'Bro' ish
ex: Brett was brotally accepted by the other dudes on the football team.

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New VIdeos: Mazzi & Sneakas, DR, und NSR

Sadly it seems that this blog has turned into a very odd specialty dictionary. Sorry about that. I am finishing my album right now, and thus all my creative juices are otherwise channeled. I promise (think) I'll be back on the horse soon. Anyway here are some videos that my friends made (in case you missed em).
Mazzi & Sneakas - Most Hated

Das Racist - Rainbow in the Dark

NSR - City Life

NSR - City Life [Unofficial] from Chris Diego on Vimeo.

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Bromenclature of the Day

Broetry - noun
1) Any rhythmical literary work, written or spoken, composed by a 'bro'.
ex: The feelings Devon can't share on his fantasy sports league's message board, he shares in his broetry.
2) Broetic spirit or feeling
ex: Travis drank the beer bong with broetry.
See also: 'Broem'

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Bromenclature of the Day

Brototype- noun
1) the quintessential bro on which all other bros are formed.
ex: All the brothers in the fraternity agreed that the handsome, well-liked, and cool Chad was the brototype.

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Bromenclature of the Day

Brotocol - noun
1) The customs and regulations dealing with fraternal etiquette and matters of social norms and relations on a friendly level.
ex: When Brad slept with Dave's ex-girlfriend, he did not follow brotocol.

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Two Weeks (Memory Laine Remix)

NSR and I have teamed up as Memory Laine. Below, check out our remix of Grizzly Bear's "Two Weeks". Lynas on the production//Sam French on the cuts. For a free download click here.

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The Aesthetic: Why I Don't Do Film

A long time ago, before I became Mr. Aesthetic, I had a passion for film making. I was the cliche wannabe future director in high school. I knew my film history, I knew how to edit on final cut pro, and I had my own Mini DV camera. Aside from making films with my buddies, Beauregard P. Grimes and I even filmed a pilot for a public access TV called "Random Tandem" which we planned to submit to MNN (that is until we discovered the ounce in his dad's freezer).

When I got to college and majored in Digital Media (a clusterfuck of tech training), I was already a better editor than my teacher (who used to work for WWF and bang Rick Flair or some shit). There was nothing more to learn. Editing is editing. The next step is to apply what you've learned in the industry. Unfortunately, I was well aware that a career in film is not defined by brilliant editing, but rather, working your way up the ranks. Applying my skills in the real world was going to be a long and trifling struggle. Thus, I ended my childhood hopes and dreams of being the next Kubrick.

Trying to pay my rent, I worked as production assistant with John Struggles on a 16 hour commercial shoot for Progresso soup. The call time was at 5AM and the outdoor set was on the Long Island Sound. The rain was coming down like rats and hogs and the temperature was barely above freezing. As I tread through 6 inch puddles in my dunks, I watched 100 other people scramble around a drenched set just to get one scene of a lame soup commercial.

Out of these 100 people, one or two have any say at all in the creativity of the videography. Otherwise, it's 98% grunt work. Many of these people make great money. $600 a day ( a union rate for grips, etc.) is serious cake. There's nothing wrong with being a worker bee...if that's your MO. However, for the kids who want to be creative, you're better off sitting at home and writing scripts (as long as Daddy pays for your Village loft after you graduate from NYU). If not, I wouldn't depend on an industry like that to honor the paid dues of a production assistant who wants to make movies. You have to be able to bring something else to the table.

In no other creative industry is working your way up the ladder as important. It's an industry for workers, not for artists. John Struggles: workhorse. Mr Aesthetic: fragile artist. If you are a hopeful future film maker, I highly suggest learning your way around other digital fields. Otherwise, that chance to show your editing skills may not come until you're 35 with back problems.

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TCG Photography: Anyone who doesn't put on a little weight in the Winter is a FOOL!

Good Morning Wilders!

The title of today's post is actually a quote coming straight from the wisdom of youwildin's Vodkatron himself. It is pretty damn cold here in San Francisco, forcing me to wear wool socks and eat an extra meal everyday...you know...for comfort and warmth! Anyway, that's not important, today I'm posting images that I've been working on for a final in one of my courses. I'm not going to say much about it, this weeks post is about the images themselves.




Let me know what you think and maybe I'll take your opinion into consideration during my final edit on the series.




Stay Warm!




'Til Next Week Wilders!

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Stupid Wild: Gucci Mane, Lil' Wayne, & Cam'ron

It’s not everyday that you hear a track with three of the most loved and hated MCs in the game. But who better to appear on a song called "Stupid Wild"? Especially when one of those artists is in jail, another will be there in February and the third’s code of hoodness precludes him from snitching on a serial killer. Of course, I'm talking about Gucci Mane, Lil' Wayne, and Cam'ron. The three swag scholars appear on the aforementioned track on Gucci Mane's freshly released album, "The State vs. Radric Davis." (Listen to the track above).

The track, produced by Bangladesh of “A Milli” fame, features a synth-heavy beat so frantically energetic, it’s hard to imagine better musical accompaniment for anyone looking to get stupid wild. As one friend put it to me, “It’s definitely mobbing in the club, hit a motherfucker in the head with a bottle type shit.”

Held together by a hypnotic hook, this nihilistically bent banger opens with Gucci not saying much of anything, but it works. Slightly incoherent and sounding like a mediocre modern era Leadbelly, Gucci is at his jovial, shit-talking best -- ruminating on his lack of patience for haters. Nothing in his rhymes is intricate or thought provoking, but his charisma and energy move the track along to Weezy.

Wayne too doesn't say much, but his free associative ramblings light this track up like wild fire. He opens up one of his best verses in a year with a simple, but brilliantly vivid rhyme: "Wilder than a jaguar, wildin' in a jaguar..." From there, F. Baby lays down a high speed stream of boasting braggadocio that's littered with punchlines. He sounds alive and rejuvenated like he did on "The Drought 3" -- rapping for the love of rapping without any of that auto-tune shit.

And then the Jean-Paul Satre of Hip-Hop steps on the scene. Appearing on a track with Gucci for the second time this year -- they're on the same label -- Cam'ron comes of out his recent slumber by providing us with an extended stream of conscience. Changing his flow several times throughout, Cam weaves rhymes about furs, haters, female admirers, and using your mother for food stamps. He's affable and jocular, which gives the verse the feel of something that could've been on Purple Haze.

Some people will hate this song and use it as a prime example of the vegetative state of Hip-Hop, but they're taking things to seriously. This is just a fun, well-produced rap that doesn't purport to be anything more than a track about being stupid wild.

***Also, check out my new "Classy Things" post coming this Friday.

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New Music: Jesse Rose

via Berlinbattery
Sorry I've haven't posted for a while but I've been OD busy. Here are a couple Jesse Rose reworks of the early house classic Deep Inside by Hardrive, both hot, both pretty similar.
Hardrive- Deep Inside (Jesse Rose Play Late Mix)
Hardrive- Deep Inside (Jesse Rose Play Prime Mix)

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TCG Photography: Miss Me?

Good Day Wilders!

I hope everyone had a lovely Turkey Day. I spent my Thanksgiving break sleeping, eating, and drinking which was perfect. I also continued a self portrait project that I am working on for one of my finals. The image above was a silly one that I thought perhaps all my wonderful friends back east would enjoy...you know you miss that face!

The two images below are from a wonderful adventure I took while fellow Wilder Daniel Lynas was in town! We took a trip to Oakland and Berkeley (the outer boroughs of San Francisco), or the East Bay (oooooh fancy). Lynas' good friend Devon took us to many places that a Wilder such as myself would not usually visit and the outcome was these two photographs. Devon, a magical creature himself is seen in the second image, setting up hammocks off the side of a mountain for the three of us to smoke, drink wine, and watch the sunset. It was heaven even for a city girl such as myself.



Here we end with two of my favorite models and people here in San Francisco. The amazing Alex Triliouris and Christina Gualy. As I've mentioned in earlier posts Gualy is an artist and she recently made the most amazing stencil of a human heart. I decided I had to photograph it, so she painted it on Alex's back for me and here we are! Perhaps another frame in the next installment of this series.

Here is one of my images (shot via a Hasselblad with a Polaroid back) of Gualy. We shot a series of portraits for her website. She painted her face using the techniques she uses in her paintings. We got a ton of amazing shots out of the session, but I found this one particularly interesting because of the gesture she was making. I got the shot when she was caught off guard and it reminding me of the famous image of Marilyn Monroe shot by Richard Avedon. Now trust me, I am in NO way trying to compare myself to Avedon. He attained a level of genius that most artists can only dream of. My point is simply that you can often get a very beautiful and gentle image when the subject has let their guard down and taken a moment to breathe.

'Til Next Week Wilders!

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Classy Things (The West Village Edition): Transformation, Homeless Fraud, the Myth of Joe's Pizza, & Penis Turkeys

As I exited a turnstile at the West 4th St. subway on my way to work yesterday, my rumination about affordable three-bedroom apartments was interrupted by two beautiful Latina women lustfully locking lips in front of a Metrocard vending machine. Ten feet away, a cop stationed at one of those bag check tables stared at them with licentious scorn. You could tell part of him was intrigued, almost into it, but his alpha male pedigree set off blaring alarms in his head that seemed to say, “This is wrong.” As he rudely glared at the couple caressing each others bums, I walked passed him with an icy gaze meant to say, “What, you’ve never been to the West Village before?”

While the neighborhood has definitely transformed in the past 20 years, it’s always been a safe haven for the gay community and artistically inclined. Sure, it’s ritzier than it used to be – there’s more lace than leather these days – and the grungy bohemian aesthetic that made it the bastion of down and out artists has become a malleable bohemian chic fit for New York’s bourgeois elite. But a lot of the same stuff is here – rows of tattoo parlors, head shops with walls lined with inventive glass bongs, sex shops that cater to ever fetish and fantasy, and watering holes that smell of stale beer and ammonia. Still, one would have to be blind to disregard the alterations to the Village’s cityscape. Where small coffee houses and bars once stood, now stand exorbitantly expensive vintage clothing stores. Alleys and small streets where junkies used to shoot up, are now littered with restaurants and organic food shops. Shit hole apartments are still shit holes, they just cost 10 times more. And the Meat Packing District, once the dark, aberrant edge of the city with its johns and transvestite hookers, is awash in boutiques and restaurants that you can’t afford. A lot is the same, but much is different. And if this all sounds like an oxymoronic paradigm, it’s because that’s what the West Village has become.


Everyday when I leave my office on Sullivan St., I pass by the same homeless guy in front of the McDonald’s on the corner of 6th Ave. He’s always jovial as he stands by a table and water jug emblazoned with the logo of the United Homeless Organization asking for donations to help fund soup kitchens and shelters. But yesterday he wasn’t there and when I saw the cover of the New York Post, I realized why. State Attorney General Andrew Cuomo filed suit on Monday, charging the United Homeless Organization is a scam run by con artists who pocket most of the change they collect -- hundreds of thousands of dollars a year.
UHO founder Stephen Riley and director Myra Walker take a big cut of the money to fund personal shopping sprees at the GameStop, Home Shopping Network, Bed Bath & Beyond and P.C. Richard, as well as their monthly cable bills, legal papers charge. Riley, a beefy 60-year-old, shamelessly used the donated dollars -- which are supposed to be used to "feed the homeless" -- to pay his Weight Watchers bills.
The lawsuit, filed in Manhattan Supreme Court, seeks a temporary injunction to shut down the UHO, then permanently disband it and keep Riley and Walker from ever taking part in charitable causes. Apparently, the pair, who founded the UHO in 1985 and got tax-exempt status for it eight years later, charge homeless people a flat-rate $15 to $25to rent a table and empty water jug for a four-hour shift.
"In exchange for paying a fee to Riley, UHO workers received tables and UHO-branded materials, including a tablecloth, apron and plastic jug, and the right to claim membership in UHO," the suit charged. They also get a copy of UHO's New York state incorporation receipt they can use to convince suspicious New Yorkers and trusting tourists that they're legit. After deducting the "rent," the table worker keeps all the donations -- up to $80 a shift during peak season.
What a classy example of shameless exploitation. While I’m glad the homeless workers get to keep some of the money, I wouldn’t be upset to see Riley and Walker get the Mussolini treatment – the former dictator was disemboweled and hung at a city square. Excessive? Perhaps…


What I’m about to say may offend some people and certainly some writers on this blog, but bear with me for a second. Joe’s Pizzeria is not that good. The famed West Village pizza parlor, which appeared in Spiderman, is constantly lauded as one of the best, if not the best place to get a slice in Manhattan. Maybe five years ago that was the case, but Joe’s has gone the way of cheapness over quality in the past couple of years. The $2.75 slice you get is thinner than any slice in the neighborhood and it droops and sags like a pair of 60-year-old breasts. Don’t get me wrong, very thin can be very good, but only when it’s crispy and fluffy and made in a wood or brick oven, which Joe’s doesn’t use. On top of that, the slices are always overcooked, leaving the front end soggy and the crust end burnt and harder than a biscotti. With sparse cheese and a very sweet and cheap tasting San Marzano tomato sauce, you might as well be getting this slice at one of a hundred Famous Original Ray’s. And my personal pet peeve, in the past year, I’ve haven’t had a slice at Joe’s that did burn the roof of my mouth and leave an annoying little blister that I obsessively tongue for the rest of the day. Sure, I could wait a second and let my slice cool down, but where? The tiny space is constantly crammed and it’s harder to get a table there than at Dorsia.
I used to love Joe’s and I’ve tried to give it several chances this year, only to be terribly disappointed. The slices are thinner than ever and the ingredients are just plain shitty. Some of you still love it, but I say you’re living in a nostalgic past when Joe was king of his own domain. If you want a really good slice, head up to Sacco’s on 54th and 9th, or if you’re an uptown boy, like myself, stop in at Paul’s on 138th and Broadway. And if you’re in the West Village, try Pizza Box or Pizza Booth – they’re nothing to write home about, but you’ll get a decent slice and somewhere to sit.


The West Village is still the place to come to see things you wouldn’t otherwise see in the city. The picture above is a perfect and finely timed example for Gobbleday. Yes, that’s exactly what it looks like – a cooked turkey with a penis for a head. And what a perfect example of the oxymoronic paradigm which I’ve been lamenting. I’d sit here and explain why, but I think that’d be insulting your intelligence. Instead, I’ll leave you with some random images of cats chilling, brought to you by YW head researcher Shorts. I’ve rambled enough, Happy Turkey Day and go Raiders…

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Tuesday Morning StruggleBack Reloaded...

I Did entirely too well gambling this weekend too elaborate on my exploits.

This week I decided to take a different direction-European Football. As we approach the FIFA World Cup this summer, we should all take some time to gear ourselves up for the best sporting event in the world. Every four years, 32 national teams have the honor of representing their countries on a global stage. This years World Cup will be hosted in South Africa, which is the first World Cup to be hosted on the African Continent. This December 4th, the group stage for South Africa 2010 will be selected. With 32 teams qualifying for tournament play, four teams will be selected for groups A-H.

As a US fan, I pray for a good draw. The United States National team has not tightened the gap between them and the world's elite soccer countries since the last world cup in Germany. Drawn into a group with a superior European side and a tough South American team could spell early doom for the US and prevent them from entering the knock out stages. If you recall (or care), in the 2006 World Cup in Germany, the US drew Italy, the Czech Republic, and Ghana in the first round. The US finished 0-2-1 and seemed outmatched in every game they played.

This US team is not any better than the team fielded in 2006. A world class player has not emerged from the fragmented, and poorly coach US youth system. Though the team is littered with players playing through out European leagues, none of them play for an Elite power (i.e. Man United, Real Madrid, Inter Milan, etc..). The sole exception is Oguchi Onyewu of AC Mlian, who gets zero playing time. The teams only true stars are Tim Howard, the hyper-intense goalie and Landon Donovan, the balding, semi-bust who regained form playing in the MLS after rotting on the bench with German side Bayern Leverkusen. Other than these two players, no American has gained much notoriety on the international scene.

The team has lacked an identity since their heroic run in South Korea/Japan '02, when they shocked Portugal and fought off a seemingly possessed home South Korean squad to a draw in the group stages. With a victory over much maligned border rival Mexico in the Round of 16, the US found themselves facing Germany in the Quarter Finals. A 1-0 defeat via Germany, a game in which the US dominated, showed US the exit door from the tournament. Despite a disappointing loss, the US came out of that World Cup as a formidable team at the international stage.

Since '02, the US has stagnated. Though the US has managed to wrestle away regional dominance from Mexico, they have yet to assert themselves in international play save the aberration that was the '09 Confederations Cup. The tournament started out dismally for the US, a 3-1 loss to defending World Cup Champions Italy accompanied by a 3-0 trouncing by Samba Kings Brazil left the US with two losses and a -5 goal differential. The tournament for the US was all but over at this point as they needed to beat Egypt by three goals or more and have the Italians lose by 3 plus goals. The impossible happened, a 3-0 win over the North Africans and a 3-0 Italian defeat at the hands of Brazil propelled the US team improbably into the semi-final against Spain. Spain at this point in time had gone undefeated in 35 straight international matches. Yes, you're eyes are not deceiving you, 35. That's one better than previous world record Brazil - who set the record thirteen years prior. Spain was the undisputed number one team in the World; holding the ranking and the European Cup to reinforce FIFA's praise. However, the US on that night managed to weather a Spanish onslaught and beat them 2-0. However, as such stories go for the American boys, the fairy tale turned into a nightmare when the Americans ran into Brazil in the final, losing 3-2, in a score not indicative of the play on the field.

Despite a gritty and inspired showing in the latter stages on the Confederations Cup, the Americans have lazily coasted into qualifying into the World Cup this summer. CONCACAF, America's qualifying group comprised of North America, Central America, and the Caribbean, is undoubtedly amongst the world's least skilled and competitive. Though the Americans took first place in qualifying, their play has none the less raised some very interesting questions that will be answered. Can the Americans win in an overtly hostile environment? A 2-1 loss in Mexico City to an inspired Mexican side keeps me doubtful. Can they show up and play big in every game? Well 2-2 draw against an inferior Costa Rican team provided more questions than answers.

Now that I've given you the last eight years of up and down US soccer...what are we to expect this summer? Unfortunately, I believe this US team is at the mercy of their group selection. A tough draw will keep the US from advancing-I have no doubts. A draw against say New Zealand, North Korea, and Algeria would be an act of god. So let us all hope for a favorable draw, a few miracles, and a solid US showing this summer.

P.S. For those not interested in soccer, watch one world cup game with a team of Brazil, Spain, Italy, or Germany's caliber, and you'll change your religious beliefs. Get cultured, accept that watching the Royals play the Rangers in July is not the only sports on the television this summer. Get your DVR game way up and give in to the World's game...hollar

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That Dude Teaches History

Honestly, I was working on a post about a the Senate Health Care debate on health care reform that I watched on C-SPAN on Saturday morning. Yeah, Im cool like that. And did you know C-SPAN stands for Cable Satellite Public Affairs Network! But, about 500 wonky words later, I realized I was boring myself, which means I'd be boring. And this is not "You Borin dot com." Far from it.

In light of that, last week I came across a piece of YW history that I thought I'd share with the people. It was almost two years ago that Nickname and I had the idea for a forum of wildin, which eventually became the site you see today. The idea came on an afternoon when we were doing landscaping work upstate, and we were talking about this dude, Doc Ellis, who pitched a no-hitter while tripping on acid. The exchange, I believe, went something like:

Me: Yo, that guy was wildin!
NN: Yeah he was.

And BOOM! A blog is born. So last week I found an animated short, produced by No Mas, of Doc Ellis telling the story of that fateful game, and in a way, the story of this enterprise. It's incredibly well done. And this, ladies and gents, is what it means to be wildin.

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Art Haus Thursdays: Staying Fly in the Congo

Every now and again we are reminded that great style, not fashion, but style is truly timeless. More so, regardless of the place or occasion , a great suit is always a great suit. Daniele Tamagni's new book, Gentleman of "Bacongo: The Dandies of Sub-Saharan Africa" is a collection of photographs exhibiting the sartorial tendencies of the Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes, SAPE, or the Society of Tastemakers and Elegant People. Based in the two Congo (The Democratic and Republic of the Congo and the Republic of the Congo)'s respective capitals, Kinshasa and Brazzaville, SAPE's members are referred to as Sapeurs and follow strict rules of conduct, and more importantly, of dress.


Sapeurs are adorned in tailored name-brand suits and immaculately manicured accessories. They never try to match more than three colors, and make sure that some buttons on their suits and shirts are left open to showcase the sewmanship with which their garb was made. The stylistic inspiration of la SAPE is rooted in the dress of Belgian and French colonizers who maintained authority over the two countries from the 1880s to 1960. This Francophone influence is quite clear: one of these pale-beige suits paired with an ascot and bow-tie would fit right into one of Cezanne's Provencal street-scenes. More so, however, a quintessential Sapeur ensemble would be appropriate in Harlem or West Egg circa 1928, or even in Wiliamsburg or South Hampton today.

But what the majority of readers will likely find most interesting about the wardrobe of the Society is its contrast with the general aesthetic of the environment from which the club stems. Yes, the Sapeurs live in a world of the worst kind of poverty on Earth; African poverty, Save the Children ad poverty. Both countries have been plagued with seemingly interminable wars, terrible governmental corruption and patronage, high HIV/AIDS rates and even higher rates of infant mortality. These are cities where the average family lives on less than two dollars a day, where electricity and potable water are a luxury reserved only for the hyper-elite. And yet, here is a group of young men matched to the nines, with world-class tailors, and ne plus ultra taste, who put style above all else.

Can we draw any conclusions from all this? From the violent juxtaposition of high society and absolute poverty? Can we deduce that these Sapeurs are ridiculous, tactless, or even amoral because they purchase and own suits that are worth twice the average per-capita income of their homeland- often exchanging their nutrition and well-being for one? Martin Luther King Jr. once said that a man not willing to die for something has no right to live...and if that something happens to be a three-piece suit, who are we to judge it better or worse than anything else? And if this material passion does happen to kill them, one thing is for sure, they'll die looking sharp.

Once again props to Shortsy and Jezebel.Com

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