Da BEEG MB PV Luau
The MB Paradise Valley
Jam/Protest
I asked The Flyin’ Hawaiian (above) to write the PV MB Jam/Protest story.
He wrote it, but in the official language of the Hawaiian native--
Pidgin English.
I will translate for you (in yellow) line by line as best I can.
Also, you can refer to these resources to help you understand just
what the hell this bro-brah is talking about.
Kay den, maybe you wen mahu out and nevah show at da kine luau,
wheah da MB wen trow party. Pardon me, fine gentlemen; did you
say that you were not able to attend our function because you were
otherwise disposed? So now you try ask, "ho, was da haps
ovah deah ?” You may inquire, “How did those fine chaps fare on
that bright, sunny morn?" Relax Tampax, I goin tell you. Let me
pour you a chilled class of vintage 1979 Cabernet Savignon and I
will relate to you the events as they occurred.
Early in da morining, even before da Opala Man was pau hana, MB
Ben, Charlie, and some other crip cuz's wen chance um in da ditch.
At approximately 8 o’clock on Sunday morning, MB Ben, MB Charlie
and a few other upstanding lads began riding their little BMX
bicycles in the Paradise Valley Skatepark. Dey was makin
anykine till bumbye Old School wen try come. A jolly good
time was had by all parties involved until Ye Olde School
made his first appearance. Right behind him, da True Bool in Blue
wen show up, den some niele kine Park Rangers, so da blalas wen bag
da ditch, and make like them guys was just cruising. As Ye Olde
drove his motor carriage into the parking lot, the local
authorities happened to follow him in close behind, as did the park
rangers, so all the bike riders evacuated the skatepark promptly.
Much ado about nothing.
Around nine tirty I wen pull up to da ditch, but
only get my stick, cuz I no mo kalas fo pay da fine. At
approximately 9:30 in the AM, I arrived at the skatepark,
but I brought forth only my skateboard as I am far too
impoverished to pay the bike-toll. I saw da gangies all
laid out, had CHOKE grinds, from pupus to pake kine freezah
hamburgah patties, and one setup fo write lettahs to da luna,
Skip Rimsza. There was a great spread on the table for all to
enjoy, from tubed meats to frozen bovine, and the riders were
writing letters to Phoenix Mayor Skip Rimsza. Aftah dat,
plenny kine cuz's wen show up, from hanabata keikis to
mokes, blalas, and even some titas, even had one guy from
Jalapeno bikes so old, I was like " hey boo, what year
you wen grad? ". Shortly afterwards, more riders and
supporters arrived, including a whole range of ages and
genders. I was overjoyed to see that Pat Blackburn of
Jalapeno bikes was present to enlighten us with the
wisdom that his many years have bestowed upon him.
Pat Blackburn, contemplating how much money Phoenix is
wasting trying to keep bikes out of their parks.
We spahked out da pokis, parked like dey was
passing da pakalolo thru da windows of their samoan family cars,
try fo act lepo so dey could catch us. We observed the park
rangers in their truck, discreetly parked a short ways from the
skate park, lying in wait to apprehend any trespassers.
Had one ranger wit crater face so bad, look like Kilauea goin
ERPUT! One of the rangers looked as if he had had an unfortunate
accident involving his countenance and a mechanized
street-sweeper. And da uddah one all mempahi
eye. The other ranger kept giving us looks
that were very untoward. Dem guys hangin right in front of da ditch,
acting all futless. These two noblemen kept their post, warily watching
for disruptions of any sort.
No one like bus da ditch, all scared, cuz garanz ballbearanz
da pokis goin lock em up if da rubbah even hit da ditch. None
of the BMX gentlemen approached the skatepark during this time,
for they feared that they would be placed in stocks and properly
flogged if their tyres so much as touched the hallowed concrete.
Den, mos da real rippahs wen tear up PV High School for a while.
A good amount of the hardest of the core riders sought refuge at nearby
Paradise Valley High School for a while. Jose Yanez wen show up
fo one manini time wit one old hamoegamoe stick, but den wen bail
fo go score burritos or whateveah da kine Vaqueros like fo
kaukau. Jose Yanez made his presence known by entering the
skatepark with a board that was fashioned from one of the planks of
the Ark of Noah, but he left the jam early, possibly to acquire some
traditional Latin-American style sustenance, to which he is more
accustomed.
11:00 or bumbye, time fo GRIND!!! The feasting began
at approximately eleven o’clock in the AM. Oh so ono, brok
da mouth even. Rage Cycles, Bike Emporium, Gordy’s Bike Shop
and myself all donated the funds necessary to obtain all of
the barbeque foods and accoutrements. I wen kaukau everyting!
I want everyone to start calling me Dr. December! One
navajo joe wen kalua da burgahs, an we all cockaroached em. Pierre
from the Chuckbox Restaurant graciously prepared our feast, and we,
in turn, took them into our bodies for nourishment to provide us with
more protesting energy. Da Gonz even wen show up, on some chang kine
donated bike. Sir Marcus Gonzalez made his appearance at this time on
a rather homely bicycle, possibly obtained from the Duke of Wal Mart.
Auwe! Da fuzz wen leave, everyone go stay come, go stay wait, go
stay go, ANYKINE, all ovah da ditch! By the time we had finished
the feast, the one known as Ye Olde School instructed the riders
in this manner--“While I’m not telling you to ride the
skatepark, I’m not telling you to not ride the skatepark,
either.” Was MAX action all around: lookdowns, tables,
manuals, a MENTO abubacca in da bowl! Most riders chose
to listen to the latter part of his statement. Grinding
all around wit no damage to da coping. Everyone tryin fo
not boddah da stick ridahs, so we can stay cruise. The gentlemen on
the bicycles made every effort to accommodate the directions
of the gentlemen on skateboards, so as not to disturb their activity.
Den, one manini kine, ratbite head, carpet hair little
titabitch wen outside fo call da cops back, tryin fo tell
hana okolele on us...Ho, SOME people! Eventually a young
gentlewoman whose father should have rolled over and ejaculated
her onto the wall made an attempt to contact the local law
enforcement agency concerning our presence in the skatepark.
Everyone wen bag da ditch, but den one humbug stick ridah
try fo make beeg body. All the bike riders evacuated the
premises as before, but then one skateboarder who must have
consumed urine-soaked Cheerios that morning, and henceforth
shall be referred to as “Pottymouth”, asserted himself against
us.
" yeah you better run you chickenshits " he says
If you don't wear a shithelmet, you can't ride the park.
It's as simple as that.
Den, one popolo guy, who jus wen go stay come from da tent city
fo riding his bike, came up to da buggah like he going false crack
him! At that point a rather intimidating African-American BMX
gentleman, who was recently a resident of Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s
out-of-doors correctional facility because he committed the
heinous crime of riding a bicycle in a skatepark, confronted
Pottymouth as if he would introduce his rather large fist to
the other’s bicuspids. Da Haole knew he goin get dirty lickens
so he did da huli huli and act all sked. Pottymouth realized
the gravity of the situation at that point, so he promptly
became as timid as a church mouse. Da popolo wen back fo ride
da ditch, but den da haole started getting all wa'a again, and
da guys mouth stay pouring diaahreaa against us cuz's. The BMX
gentleman commenced his riding again, but shortly Pottymouth
commenced pissing and moaning again, as was his wont.
"Why you gotta talk shit? Why can't you just be cool?"
"This park was made for skateboards. I’ve been
skating a long time, and you have no respect for what skaters had to do
to get this" He tried fo say. Pottymouth whined.
Brah, I ride one stick since da usedtato days.
Kind sir, I skateboarded in the decade known as the
1980’s. I ride em when Wallows was one 500 dollar fine, and I no mo kalas.
I skateboarded when being caught in Hawaii’s most
infamous ditch carried with it a fine of over 300
pounds, and I was too poor to pay attention. I
ride em when da kine fresh off da boat haoles wen
put up da "skateboarding is not a crime" stickers.
I skateboarded when the gentlemen skateboarders from
the mainland plastered adhesives with the rally cry
of “skateboarding is not a crime” everywhere. I ride
em when Mayor Frank Fasi wen outlaw em in waikiki.
I skateboarded when the honorable Mayor of Honolulu
banned them from our most populous tourism borough.
I ride em when dey became "contraband" and would
land you in jail. I skateboarded when being caught
even carrying a skateboard in the city would net you
a troublesome night with large Samoans in the local
correctional facility. I even ride em in da days
when you had fo put pillow cases on em fo get em on
da buss past da buss drivers stink eye. I even rode
skateboards when you had to ensconce the skateboard
in linen to avoid detection by busybody
public transportation officials. I ride em in A'Ala
Park, even tho da Manongs mob you ten on one just
fo ride da stick. I skateboarded in the village
green, although the local residents would forcibly
remove your orbs and defecate inside your eyelids
simply because you were skateboarding in their general
location.
See, bikes and skateboards can get along just fine. Someone
come over here and give me a big ol' sloppy skater kiss.
I ride da stick, in Aikahi Gutterz, Pipeline
Bowlz, Hahionez, Pantyland, Zonez, Uluwatuz, Unevenz,
Holez, Snake Runz, Off Da Wallz, Secretz, Wallowz,
Wallowz Bowlz, Windwardz, EVERYKINE ditch you name,
I wen chance em. I basically skateboarded, at great risk of
personal injury, on every feasible surface imaginable on that glorious
island of Oahu. I ride da stick even tho da poki lock you up
nex to all kine criminals, trow yo stick under da car and run
em ovah, charge you 500 bucks. I skateboarded even though the
local authorities would pair you up with Samoans in the local
correctional facility, decimate your skateboard by driving
their motor carriages on top of it, and rob you of over 300
pounds. I ride da stick even tho all da kine mokes, blalas,
manongs and bukbuks, try fo make you make die dead fo ride
da stick. I skateboarded although all the local inhabitants
would attempt to enter your rectum with their members and
then execute you because you skateboarded in their general
location. I lived fo da stick, I bled fo da stick, I almos
died fo da stick. (self explanatory)
If you know da stick, da two Jasons was my friend befo time
da one Jason May wen make make die dead, which sparked da building
of skateparks thru dis whole country. If you are familiar with
skateboarding, Jason May was a companion of mine before he died
while skateboarding, which inspired a whole crop of skate courts
to be constructed throughout the United States.
SO NO MAKE LIKE YOU GOIN TELL ME ABOUT DA STICK, Stupid
Haole! DON’T EVEN ATTEMPT TO TELL ME ABOUT SKATEBOARDING, thou
foolhardy imbecile!
Eh, you know , Im just easy chillin kinda guy, but he
make me all NO CAN HANDLE RANDLE, so I wen up and told him, "Eh, Why you
tryin fo make us ol stick riders look all MAHU?" I am an easygoing
young man, but Pottymouth’s ignorance transformed me into a
HAWAIIAN TIKI GOD OF RAGE AND RETRIBUTION, so I approached him
and exclaimed, “Why are you trying to make us old school
skateboarders look like ass holes?!”
He wen try fo talk shit, but I told him " Eh, Lepo,
it was US guys who wen make dees be made in da firs place, puka head.
Pottymouth began to utter all manner of lame excuses, but I replied,
“Sir, we were the ones who inspired the building of these skateparks
to begin with, stupid dummyhead. All us old stick riderz no like da
poki come tell us we no can skate. None of us old school
skateboarders appreciated the local authorities instructing us
that we could not skateboard. TEN years we wen, writing lettahs,
collect petitions, PAY lawyers and Jason May had fo make make die
dead. For a full decade, we wrote letters to politicians, collected
signatures on petitions, hired men of the law, and Jason May had
to die for skateboarding. No pretend brah, NO ACT! This is no
party, this is no disco, this is no fooling around! Don’t be one
hypocrite, once we got da stuffs we goin close da door behind us.
Please do not err on the side of hypocrisy, insomuch that once we
achieve our goals we would prohibit any other groups from
experiencing such freedom. You are jus like all da guy back in da
day, who used ta to tryfo bus us fo ride da stick. You are no better
than “The Man” back in the 1980’s, who used to ride our arses simply
because we skateboarded. Dees BMX guys, goin thru da SAME ting we went
thru. These fine BMX gentlemen are experiencing the exact same problems
that we did. No get wise bubble eyez, cut you down to peanut size."
If you insist on carrying on in this foolish manner, I will have no other
choice than to imbed my front Independent truck firmly inside your colon.”
I no shit you cuz, if da guy wen say one mo ting, I was going go
Dirty Action Jackson, and his face would come all HEMMAJANG!
I am not telling an antecdote of any sort, if Pottymouth
would have had even the proclivity to utter one more word,
I was going to make short work of his countenance to make it
resemble that of the park ranger’s. Anywayz, he wen mahu out
and turned off da pocho mouth. At that point Mr. Pottymouth, as
inconceivable as it may seem, took the potty out of his mouth and
disappeared. Laytahs fo dat babooze. We did not hear from him
again, until he started a letter-writing campaign to our jam
sponsors in an extremely unsuccessful attempt to get them to
discontinue their support of our endeavors.
Steve: "Will you write a letter with us?"
Cop: "No, I could but I don't want to."
I shit you not.
Da ditch riding wen continue, and some of us wen go
back fo kaukau some mo grinds, and cruise. The BMX riders
continued to ride the skatepark. Da poki wen make one drive
by, but nevah even stop! Local law enforcement representatives
came by the park, looking as if they wouldst sojourn there, but
they didn’t. So cat and mouse went on and da guys who like ride
da ditch, wen ride da ditch. And so it was that an elaborate
game of tag continued for the rest of the day. Da guys who no
like ride da ditch, nevah wen ride da ditch. The young
gentlemen who did not enjoy riding skateparks, or were taking
video, or were taking photographs, or were healing up from a
compound broken tibia/fibula never rode the skatepark. Everyone
wen write letters to da luna. Everyone present authored
letters to the mayors and councilmen of their respective cities.
One honey girl wen show up wit her mom, and Andy Leland tryed fo
make chance wit her and got her and her mom to write a letter to
Rimsza. Andy Leland even persuaded a young lady and her mother
to write a letter to Phoenix Mayor Skip Rimsza. Good fun all
around! Much fun was had by all parties involved! We need to
find out if Leland wen score her numbah. We must investigate
as to whether or not Andy got this young lady’s telephone
number, but maybe first we should investigate how we can get
even get a hold of Andy.
Later, Old School and da MB's wen sample out CHOKE free
parts to everyone. After a short while, Ye Olde School and the members
of the MB BMX Legion (except for MB Swell) transferred ownership
of bike parts to all in attendance. Stickers, sprockets, grips,
da works! Products from Profile, ODI, Helldonkey,
Urban Playground, and Bearded Lady/Psychic Flying Monkey Pdctns.
were distributed without bias. I tink everyone wen come out all
happy. I sincerely feel that a good time was had by all parties
involved, except, of course for Pottymouth and the park ranger
with the streetsweeper enhanced face. One BEEG kine success. A
prosperous MB Jam/Protest. Try wait eh? And if you not mahu, you
goin find out where da nex one at! If you want to find out
where the next MB Jam/Protest will occur, e-mail
MBK@psychicflyingmonkey.com or keep your ear low to the ground.
