Son Of A Beach!
Filed Under: Photography
Chicago’s icy claws have loosened from my neck, allowing for wholesome trips to the beach a few blocks from my apartment, and some unwholesome as well — which obviously include a lot more smuggling of alcohol and much less photography.

What can I even say here that hasn’t already been said? Water just looks better in America. Sorry exotic beaches of the world, you just can’t compete with the Midwest’s proud collection of gigantic mud puddles. The lakes are called “Great” for a reason, and I’ll let you in on a little secret, it’s not because of their size. It’s because they’re in the U-S-mother-fucking-A.

Apparently I’m not the only one sneaking beers onto the beach late at night. Which makes sense… if you’re going there at 1 am, you’d better have something to sedate the crazed bums with. And I’m sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable with the “willingness to get raped” alternative.

Framing a photo makes such a difference.


After Blanca savagely murdered Mercedes, Melanie, Eloiza and Tatiana by means of brutal electrocution, and then finally ended his own tortured life, Raul was the left the only player in the seminal Piss-Soaked Underpass Band.

R.I.P. G.A.R. Peep “I’ll Still Be Missing You,” featuring Faith Evans, out this summer. Text M-I-S-S to U-G-A-R to download the ring tone today!

Keep looking, you’ll find it!
