Awesome Sun Block

The sun want's to burn you to a cancerous pulp. No joke! That why a lot of use lather up with sun block to protect ourselves. Sadly most the sunblock we use is made of crazy chemicals that are bad for the environment.

That's why the fine folks at Manda went looking for, "Something that performs and is made out of the best possible ingredients" and they found it in the form of an organic paste.

Even though they've way overshot their kickstarter goal, you should kick in a score yourself some of their sun paste. Manda is giving people a chance to change the way we interact with our environment.

MOTORBOAT

Heavy Metal Booze Cruisin' 

By Jeff Edwards

So occasionally I tour manage my friends band The Shrine. Their bass-player Court and I used to be roomates and I have toured with them since their very first West Coast tour in 2011. The dudes called me up to do a US tour starting in the Southwest heading east toward Florida. The caveat was when we got to Florida we would hop on Lemmy's Motorboat and sail to the Bahamas. Basically cruise ship companies realized they can headline huge bands like Slayer and Motorhead and pack their boats with metalheads and charge $1000+ a ticket. It actually works pretty well because no fans are more loyal to their scene than metalheads. 

We hopped on the ship in Miami and dumped all our shit in our stateroom. Since Norwegian Cruise lines comped our tickets we had to share rooms. Court and I shared a room with our buddy Kris Kerk. The rest of the band brought their wives and girlfriends so they got their own individual pork-shacks. 

The problem with cruise ships is you can't bring your own booze. Luckily since The Shrine was playing on the ship so we got a daily rider and on that list was a handle of Jack Daniels and a handle of Jagermeister. Well equipped for the journey ahead, we set sail to the Bahamas. The schedule was pretty well planned; each band would play two sets, that way if we were too drunk or the seating was packed the first night, we could see them again later on the trip. With almost 30 live acts spread across 4 days this was the perfect setup. 

The first day and night the boat sailed straight through to an island called Great Stirrup Cay. This place is owned by Norwegian Cruise line and is basically a party island. There are cabana bars everywhere and white sand beaches to hang out and swim. In the morning they had Heavy Metal Yoga on the beach, but we were too hungover and didn't awaken until noon. We got off the boat and ate some lunch then spent the rest of the day drinking ourselves into an alcoholic haze. The Dead Deads and Dark Before Dawn played on the bandstand at the beach while we chased after iguanas and stared at hermit crabs in the tidepools. 

Back on the boat some highlights were Kyng, Corrosion of Conformity, Exodus and of course Slayer. Afterward we hit up the 24 hour food bar and fell asleep next to a beautiful sandwich. The boat travelled through the night to the island of Nassau. We actually got up early this time so we stepped off the boat into a downpour of rain. 

Nassau is a pretty sketchy place, when we got past the security gate there were at least 20 people asking us if we wanted to rent cars, motorcycles, busses etc. One dude took a look at us and asked if we wanted "party favors." We tried a sniff of coke and it was horrible, he also wanted $150 for a gram so we walked away. We heard him yell "kiss my black ass you fucking whiteboys." What kinda place were we in? Eventually we found a guy with a small bus who offered to give us a tour of the island for 200 bucks. Since there were 19 of us, we wanted to stay together and this was the perfect solution. He drove us through the rich and poor parts of the island, took us to lunch at his favorite seafood place and stopped at the beach so we could swim for a bit. The shorebreak was easily twelve feet high and crashed into six inches of water, it was actually very dangerous so we only swam for half an hour. Since our phones were roaming and weren't connected to the internet, we had no idea we were about to get hit by Hurricane Joaquin. We got back on the ship at it immediately took off full speed. Over the PA the captain announced we were in for a bumpy ride as we were now trying to outrun the hurricane.

That night Anthrax, Huntress and Motorhead played amazing sets even though all the gear was sliding around everywhere. While we had trouble just standing on the boat while it vigorously rocked back and forth, Lemmy was playing bass, singing and rocking the fuck out of the crowd; pretty damn good for a guy who turns 70 this Christmas. The next day was the "Fun at Sea Day." Hatebreed, Others and Suicidal Tendencies rocked the deck stage while everyone was moshing in the swimming pool. There was a fat guy belly flop contest and a motorboat contest where complete strangers got to rub their faces between fake tits. That night Brian Posehn roasted all the bands and Joey Belladonna from Anthrax lead Live Band Karaoke. 

The whole time we were shit-house drunk and no one cared, I assume because everyone else was completely annihilated as well. The best part of the trip, hands down, was the people. Everyone was so stoked to be on the boat and it's this positive energy that keeps heavy metal alive. While we all look like dudes who are gonna rape your dog, everyone of us has the sweetest, warmest heart. The age-old adage "never judge a book by its cover" couldn't be more true on Lemmy's Motorboat. 

World's Greatest Beanie

We heart Krochet Kids. You should too!

You Belong in the Zoo

Mini-biking with the Zoo Bombers

By Justin “Scrappers” Morrison

Photography By Anthony Georgis // @anthonygeorgis

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When I’m alone I get into weird shit.

I once found a freshly dead crow on my walk home. I knew it was fresh because it was soft and warm; its head flopped over when I picked it up, and a word bubble dripped out of its beak: “Dude, I just died.” I carried the bird home and dug a grave in the backyard. Then I busted out this big black accordion from the attic to play the saddest song ever played. Right when I was really feeling the moment and started to cry, a housemate came out and busted me. I was alone, in my twenties, and into some weird shit. I bet it happens to you, too.

Recently my wife and son took a tiny vacation to visit family in Ventura, and it was then that I knew I’d get into trouble while they were gone. Something weird like Zoobombing. 

I learned about Portland’s Zoobombers in 2003 when I asked someone about the 20 kids’ bicycles that were locked up across the street from Powell’s Books. “Oh, that’s where the Zoobombers keep their bikes before and after they bomb down the hill from the zoo,” someone said in not-those-exact words. This person also said, “Zoobombers are gnarly punks who don’t give a shit about anything that isn’t fun.” I’ve always admired the fun they were having for free!

With my son unable to stop me, I rode his Spider-Man bike across town to that pile of mini-bikes for my first Zoobomb.

Zoobombers are very generous with their free fun; they’ll even supply bikes if you don’t have a six-year-old son to steal from. Tourists are welcome as long as they’re friendly to people like Anthony, a Zoobomber who described the gang as, “A bunch of fun-loving daredevils with nothing better to do on a Sunday night.”

The sun was setting on downtown Portland as busy people walked around mini-bikes on the corner of SW 13th and Burnside. One of the bikes tipped over, which caused a tallboy of Hamm’s to pop open. It sprayed everywhere until a Zoobomber snatched it up and shotgunned that puppy. We “woot-woot”-ed, “yeeew”-ed, and howled like wild animals as we rode off to catch the train that would take us to the Oregon Zoo.

The train, or Metropolitan Area Express (MAX), takes you from downtown into a tunnel that goes under the West Hills; halfway through there’s a stop where you can catch an elevator that goes up for like a mile or so to the zoo in Forest Park. When we unloaded, I hoped on my bike and started riding to the elevator. A Zoobomber with a motorcycle helmet named Lost Blake told me, “You gotta walk it here.” He pointed to the invisible surveillance cameras, “We give them respect, they give us respect.” 

We piled into the elevator and I farted before we reached the top. I like to fart in elevators almost as much as the Zoobombers like to lie down in a field under the night sky to smoke, drink, and laugh before bombing the 3-mile hill. We killed time and brain cells until everyone was ready to line up and go straight down as fast as gravity allowed. 

“You Belong in the Zoo,” said a button on the demin jacket worn by the Zoobomber named Val. It was a direct message to me from the Spirit of the Universe that I was truly wild among the animals.

A volunteer leader shouted the rules of the road to the crowd; we shouted them back. Then we were off. I pedaled as fast as I could to keep up, but those Zoobombers were super fucking fast. I was left in the dust along with the other first-timers and an experienced Zoobomber with a first-aid kit. I was going super fast down the curvy road in pitch-black night, screaming with fear and pure joy. The Zoobombers ahead of me were going faster, crazier, and hogging all the fun. I pedaled harder to catch up, but lost my tiny bike chain and nearly crashed hard before the bike bucked me off. My ankles got a little chewed up by the tiny bike and I released the ceremonial blood that every true adventure demands. It was glorious!

After getting the bike back under my butt, I got back on the ride. The road got steeper, faster, and the turns sharper. Surely someone has gone off the cliff doing this. Oh wait, they have. It was Josh Brolin in Goonies. “Goonies never say die,” and neither do I.

Everyone met at the bottom of the hill by the MAX station. Some Zoobombers got back on the train to do it again and again into the wee hours. I rode back to the bike pile with some other newbies. We all agreed Zoobombing was awesome, but definitely some weird shit to get into. 

Zoobomb 

Every Sunday, 8:30 pm. 

Meet at the giant pile of kids’ bike on SW 13th and Burnside, Portland, Oregon.