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The enjoi tour!

HOW DO I EVEN WRITE ABOUT THESE DUDES AGAIN?

Caswell (epic!), Jerry (later'd!), Clark (epic!), Tony (burnt!). It's the same thing over again, and if I talk about anything else that's funny, dudes catch feelings all over the place. I guess I like talking shit. It makes me feel good about myself; like through the process of elimination I will become smart, cool, and worth something.

I'm with these dudes

I WAS ASKED to go on an enjoi tour, which is always something I jump at. And my highly-biased and partial view of skateboarding tells me that enjoi is one of the top two companies to go take pictures with. Am I right? Are you going for it? Well, I think you might be a dumb kid anyway. It's true! Enjoi is the real deal! No posers, locals only style! It's that perfect mix of having dudes on the team who are great people as well as amazing skaters--and the kind of amazing skaters whose amazingness comes from talent, style, and creativity.

But as much as I love the crew, I've pretty much traveled with all the dudes before and written all I can think of to say about them. Luckily, there were two legendary bonus skaters on the trip, enjoi founder Marc Johnson and new pro Jason Adams. Total legend status! The kind of skaters that I walk in to a Denny's and I'm looking at the waitress going "Yeah, it's cool, I'm with these dudes!" She's impressed; who wouldn't be?

Me and Jason Adams are bros now. We could totally high-five. And even better, me and Marc Johnson could totally pointless high five--that's when you high-five for no reason at all. That's when you know you're homies to the heart.

I'm bragging and name dropping. That's all my life has come to these days, by the way. I have nothing to offer anyone other than I can introduce you photographically to people that actually do stuff or whatever ... famous people ... skatestyle.

I also quit speaking in English.

HSTOKED

THE RISE AND FALL OF JERRY HSU

THIS DOCUMENTARY is a gripping illustration of what happens when you are too young, too talented, too rich, and too Asian. It starts off with professional skateboarder Jerry Hsu in his late teens sending shock waves through the industry--a lovable prodigy among mediocre career milking veterans. Then, as is always the case with innocence and talent, young Jerry is corrupted by the industry and free market economics. As the film explains, Jerry hit his 20s and was initiated into underground super fame as well as an unholy mix of universal backstage passes, Dom Perignon, cocaine, naked tittie action, and sordid exploits with whip cream. His hangovers were constant and at first even encouraged by his work environment. His benders were becoming so self-destructive that he was beginning to alienate himself from the others that he would normally associate with. If he missed a trick, he would lash out on the nearest person to him. There's even a scene where he stumbles during a photo shoot and he turns around and kicks the photographer square in the forehead. Blood everywhere. The film explains that Jerry became quite prone to these episodes.

Another such episode occurs when he pummels a small child who merely blurted out, "Hey, you're Jerry Ha-sue! Can I have your autograph?!" By now, his tolerance for fans pronouncing the H in his name had been exhausted. And he was almost completely unmarketable.

Now, if you are not at all familiar with skateboarding I'll save the end for you to cringe at, but as you may have already guessed Jerry now resides with the likes of Axl Rose, David Lee Roth, James Kelch, Lionel Richie, and other epic dudes who put themselves out to pasture before their time.

--Chris Shonting

That's all I got

SO AN ENTIRE EAST COAST ENJOI TOUR for two and a half weeks of my life, and the story that sticks out the most is when Chris Nieratko took us to a strip club in Jersey. The strip club part is whatever. I don't like strip clubs that much, I hate to say it, but they're depressing and boring to me. But half-way through I noticed that Clark Hassler and Tony Manfre never came in ... later, when we found them and I asked Clark where he had been, he said: "Oh, man, we were down by the turnpike and we found a portal."

So that's it. Clark wanders off and finds a portal; what else would he be doing? I think they were off solving crimes in another dimension. Clark and Tony, a Quantum Leap style crime fighting duo.

That's it. That's all I got. So I've asked for some help: I told a kid who wrote me on Myspace that I couldn't think of anything to write about and he offered this:

Just make up some ridiculous stories about how later'd NJ is, and don't forget to mention your fan club (aka Thom Crough and Pete Glackin) and how we had to get Justin Regan to buy us cigarettes cuz that shithole deli wouldn't take a college ID. Another interesting tid bit from the enjoi demo was that Caswell was sporting old people Reeboks, and when I asked him if they were his new pro model he told me his mom gave them to him ... That's pretty epic if you ask me.

Aww! Thanks Dude! Here's another message I got. This is from a guy named Patrick, too:

Dude. Not since, say, 2000 or so, in the Pissdrunx heyday, have I seen the furthering of a group of self-obsessed esses and their package of ironic lingo, shitty music, and inside jokes take the skateboard media in such totality. Please, please, refrain from writing cryptic, inside-joking features on all of your buds in every issue of Thrasher, from boy-men like Dill to boy-boys like Spanky and Steve Olson's son. The exaltation and homoeroticism geared toward Spanky in particular is getting to be a bit much, which especially sucks because his skating is fairly immature and at best pedestrian, and his ego is a bit too healthy as well (I don't know him personally, but I'm going off of what you give me). I realize the charm of these kids is their timeless combination of youth and arrogance--which I have too--but they're a little younger and more arrogant, and there's really nothing to be arrogant about when you wear striped T-shirts and listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, is there? Anyhow, sorry for all the negativity, and I'm sure you're all nice people if I knew you, but it just seems like I'm listening to post-weekend high school gossip every time I open up my favorite mag. I've recently realized I really love skateboarding, but all the bro-downs are partly what has always made it annoying. I'm seriously sure rants from jaded purist fucks like me are even worse, I admit this, but I just want my favorite read spared. All of the mags have some decent stuff every month, but they all have their weird biases and shit which get in the way. Thrasher has always had their shit together the most, and I don't want it to change. I would even be into working for them sometime. Thanks, dudemen, for reading this pedantic diatribe. It really is meant in a more positive way than I realize I started off writing it. Your pal, Patrick Hmm ... did I just get later'd?
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Author:O'Dell, Patrick
Publication:Thrasher
Date:Feb 1, 2005
Words:1253
Previous Article:Jani Laitiala: the Trasher interview.
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