Lists for Suspect Press

My Top Hopes the Legalization on Marijuana will have on the city of Denver

I hope that those who own dispensaries begin to consider using good design. Please hire good graphic designers, interior designers, and local artists, craftspeople, furniture makers, and sign painters to promote your business. The 420 culture needs to give way to the new style. One invested in good design.

The collective consciousness of Denver becomes more insightful and mindful. I would hope that cases of domestic violence decrease, drunk driving accidents decrease, violent crime decreases.

I hope the stoned citizens of Denver take time to appreciate how fucking beautiful the blue of our sky is.

I hope the stoned citizens of Denver never, ever, leave their edibles out for children to find.

I hope though the taxes collected by the sale of Marijuana that Denver invests in quality education for our children (see my essay in this issue).

I hope cops chill out and can begin to focus more on their mission to serve and protect instead of harass and beat down.



Top reasons I love hip hop

1987, 10th grade, Thomas Jefferson High School, Denver, CO
Waiting in a car with a German engineered soundsystem, outside H***Ks liquor store in five points, taking turns shoulder tapping brothers to buy us a bottle of wild iris rose, “gimme a pint a rosie with a skirt” (a skirt being the paper bag), listening to that 808 boom on Run DMC’s Dumb Girl.

1994, the coldest spot in Colorado, Gunnison, CO.
Bought the Fugees Blunted on Reality and listened to it on repeat for a year.


2/23/1995 Prague, Czech Repulic
On my way to the Sports Hall to see the Beastie Boys witnessed a phalanx of Neo Nazi Fucktards in white laced 20 hole Doc Marten Jack Boots high step in unison down the cobblestone street in front of the Pinkas Synagogue Holocaust Musesum as if the ghost Heinrich Himmler was behind them eating the masticated rutabaga out of their assholes, prodding the dummies along with a nasty Nazi rim job.
The cold war was barely over, Prauge was just beginning to spread it’s legs to the hard cock of Western influence, when three Jewish cats from New York sell out Prauge’s ice arena on their European Ill Communication tour. The arena was packed, I looked in vain for fire exits. After the third song Ad Rock takes the mic, puffs out his chest and shouts “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!...”. I could only imagine him saying this to those dickless Neo Nazi’s and those that came before.

11/23/2012 San Luis Valley
Driving through the high desert plateau with my kids by my side. The sun setting over the western mountains casting a pink glow on the valley. Charley pulls out a CD that his friend Riley burned for him. Written in drippy paint pen was one word EARL.