Kapuscinski’s “IMPERIUM” exposes Kolyma – Uncle Joe’s Arctic Gulag Death Camp

            Writer/renegade/death defying journalist, Ryszard Kapuscinski took the former Soviet Union by storm, transcribing his adventures in the smart, approachable, and definitely hardcore book, Imperium (1994).  That’s how RK refers to the former Soviet Union, as more than just a mere country, but as the colossal Imperium.  RK made it his mission to travel as far and wide across the Imperium as he could. 

            Starting Imperium are true stories about how RK, as a child, barely avoided being deported to the gulag from Pinsk, Poland, in 1939.  Fast forwarding to1958, RK relates adventures from his trip on the Trans-Siberian railway.  He made a point of personally experiencing almost every city/territory/province/village/mountain range/river/encampment in existence.  He writes of Argun, Unda, Chaychar, Chingan, Ilchuri, Dzagdy, Kilkok, Tungir, Bukachacha, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgystan, Uzbekistan, Chelyabinsk, Novosibirsk, and Krasnoyarsk, to name just a few.  Oh, and Moscow too.  Some people he encountered were Buryats, Kamchadals, Tunguses, Aynovs, Orochans, and Koryats.  Got the picture?



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            Kapusinski’s writing is a pleasure to read.  I never thought I’d be interested in a book on Russian history today (although I enjoyed Russian history in college), but RK, by relating his adventures through his grand, lyrical and brutal prose, has a way of making it fresh and new all over again.  He writes with incredible narrative power and evokes spectacularly the essence of Soviet life.  I definitely recommend RK’s Imperium.

            There is so much I could write about Imperium, but my favorite part was RK’s trek out to North Eastern Siberia (1989-1991) to see the former Kolyma death camp.  Stalin’s constant purges (1930s, 1940s) ensured Kolyma always remained full, even though many of the prisoners already at the camp were dying every day.  The lives of the prisoners were pure hell, reminiscent of those at Auschwitz, minus the gas chambers and ovens.

            The slave laborers had to deal with the following:  

            COLD – Clothed in wretched and thin rags it was common for prisoners to freeze to death in the minus thirty degree environment. 

            HUNGER – Often times, meals consisted of a crust of bread the entire day.

            HARD LABOR – Hungry and frozen, prisoners were constantly pushed past the point of endurance, digging ice, carting it off in wheelbarrows, crushing rocks and ice, and chopping down the forest.

            LACK OF SLEEP – Prisoners were afforded only a few bits at a time in icy barracks, on hard boards.

            FILTH – Prisoners were not allowed to wash and therefore were constantly covered in a dirt crust and sweat, stinking unbearably.

            VERMIN - Prisoners were constantly fighting off swarms of bedbugs, mosquitos, and terrible Siberian flies.

            GUARD SADISM – Prisoners were shouted at, punched in the face, beaten, kicked and even murdered for the most minor infractions.

            TERROR OF CRIMINALS – Violent criminal prisoners were constantly taking advantage of the rest of the prisoner population.

            FEELING OF INJUSTICE – The sheer psychological terror of simply being at Kolyma.

            HOMESICKNESS & FEAR – Scared prisoners felt that any day could be their last for any of the above reasons.  Sometimes sentences stretched to 25 years, absolutely crushing any hope of getting out alive. 

            All in all, over 3,000,000 died at Kolyma, so just sit down, shut up, and be thankful Uncle Joe isn’t your travel agent. 

J.K.’s Scrumpy is Hardcore Hard Cider

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“He that drinks his cyder alone, let him catch his horse alone” - Benjamin Franklin.

          Coming out of the Koan Family Almar Orchard in Michigan is delicious J.K.’s Scrumpy Hard Cider.  Scrumpy has been grown, pressed and fermented in Michigan since the 1860s.  Distributed in a twenty-two ounce bottle, the cider is the same traditional recipe that saved the family farm during the Great Depression.  Scrumpy is USDA organic and unfiltered, also gluten free with no sulfites added.  There can be slight variations in taste from batch to batch, just as nature makes no two apples alike.  However the ingredients still remain simple, only juice and yeast. 

          I found Scrumpy for sale at the restaurant supply store SURFAS in Culver City (8777 W. Washington Blvd.).  What’s not to love about Scrumpy?  The price, $8/bottle.  That’s a little pricey for me to become a regular nightly Scrumpy drinker, but make no mistake, this stuff is good, real good, gulping it cold, the sweet/bitter taste and then the slight kick at the end as it slides down your throat.  Scrumpy is 6% ALC/VOL.  I imagine it’s pretty easy to become addicted to Scrumpy, so be careful.  It’s no wonder the family orchards have been around for over 150 years.  With a product as fresh and thirst quenching as an ice cold Scrumpy, they couldn’t lose. 

Lots of interesting info can be found at http://www.organicscrumpy.com/

"Under and Alone” Rides Deep Into Heart of Savage Mongol Nation

We are Mongol Raiders / We’re raiders of the night / We’re dirty sons of bitches / We’d rather fuck and fight / HOOAH! / We castrate the sheriffs with a dirty piece of glass / And shove our rusty Buck knives up their fuckin’ ass / HOOAH! / Hidy Hidy Christ Almighty / Who the fuck are we? / Shit Fuck Cunt Suck / Mongols M.C. / HOOAH!

Such is the Mongols OMG (Outlaw Motorcycle Gang) fight song. 

“Under and Alone” is the story of William Queen, the undercover ATF agent who, over a two year period, infiltrated and became a “full patch” member of the Mongols under the alias “Billy St. John,” in the largest most widespread operation ever taken against an OMG.

Just like traditional Cosa Nostra, The Mongols have a hierarchy of national officers, a constitution, bylaws, and monthly dues.  Just like FBI Undercover Agent Joe Pistone infiltrated the Mafia under the alias “Donnie Brasco,” ATF officer William Queen lived life on the razor’s edge.  Assignments just don’t get any more dangerous than his operation.  The background check on Billy St. John was extremely extensive, as the Mongols have numerous lawyers, private dicks, and corrupt cops on their payroll.  In light of all that scrutiny, not only did Billy St. John succeed in becoming a full patch member of The Mongols Club (after rising through the ranks as a “hanger on” and then a “prospect”) they named Billy Secretary/Treasurer of the San Fernando Valley Chapter.  Billy was often in positions where he had to drug up or gang rape or he might be killed, it’s amazing how Billy responded to direct orders to do drugs by other members of the gang.



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The Mongols OMG is the most savage in the world.  They hang scalps from trees.  Although they might not boast as many fully patched members when compared to other OMGs, the Mongols have never lost a fight, not even to The Hells Angels.  Originally the Angels forbid other OMGs from wearing the “California lower rocker” on their leather jackets, but after a twenty year war, the Mongols defeated the Angels through a series of deadly brawls, thus earning themselves the right. 

The Mongols motto is, “Respect Few, Fear None.”  Their lifestyle includes rampant drug dealing, gang rape, gun running, assault and battery, larceny, extortion, blackmail, numerous bike thefts, prostitution and various other criminal conspiracies.  The Mongols took their name from Ghengis Khan’s band of savages, no surprise.  Welcome to the world of “one percenters.” 

 What’s a one percenter you ask?  A one percenter is a badass who you want to stay as far away from as possible.  The term “one percenter” was born out of the 1947 Hollister, CA, motorcycle riot that inspired the film, “The Wild One” starring Marlon Brando.  As a result, motorcycle riders and even the American Motorcycle Association denounced the bikers who were ruining the reputation of “99%” of average American riders.  The OMGs were delighted having been singled out and have worn a 1% patch on their jackets ever since.

               Once while I was working the door at a strip club, two Mongols walked in.  One was a big burly white guy with a moustache, the other a wrinkly older Latino, both covered in tattoos.  I didn’t even think to ask them for money.  I just told them, “Enjoy the show,” and let them stroll right in, no doubt the safe and prudent move.

 “Under and Alone” will introduce you to characters like Evel, Crazy Craig, Little Dave, Rocky, Rancid, Domingo, and the most savage of them all, the swastika tattooed Red Dog.  Red Dog once told Billy, “If you turn out to be a problem, I’ll cut your motherfuckin’ throat.”  The Mongols are always drunk and smashed on crank and coke.  My favorite story of an OMG is when a certain member’s “ol’ lady” showed disrespect, she was crucified with a hammer and nails to a tree and hours later when she was let down, she crafted a necklace of the nails and wore it with a sense of new pride and devotion.

When Mongols go on a run one hundred strong, they truly live beyond the law.  “Under and Alone” is a real page turner, if you can devote a little time, you might be able to read it over the weekend.  I won’t ruin the end for you, but trust me, it’s intense.  HOOAH!

"Rise Above" CD Produced by Rollins to Benefit WM3

Check out this list of vocalists performing Black Flag songs backed by the Rollins Band.

WM3 Finally Released!

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Big congrats to the WM3 on their new found freedom!  We all know their incarceration was a travesty based on the chaos resulting from a stupid “Satanic Panic.” Of course the WM3’s convictions were falsely based and blind to the facts, now hopefully the truth of their innocence will spread like wildfire.  For more info about the case check www.wm3.org.  And remember, everyone needs to own the WM3 fundraising CD that Rollins produced way back in 2002.  The appropriately named Rise Above contains a wide variety of all-star vocalists covering a multitude of Black Flag songs.  

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Bogosian’s "Wasted Beauty" Clashes Jet Setting Model With Desperate Doctor

Wasted Beauty, the second novel by master satirist Eric Bogosian, tells the story of Reba, a lonely farm girl who barely scrapes by selling apples at a farmers’ market until she catches the eye of a shady photographer from New York City.  Reba is quickly lured to the sprawling urban metropolis by his rather unsavory charm.  Soon Reba changes her name to Rena and becomes involved in the world of high fashion modeling and is subsequently dragged down into the surrounding scum and muck, overabundance of drugs, and obsessive competitiveness for glory.

            Simultaneously, Rick, a doctor with a thriving practice, can’t stop fantasizing about his secretary.  Rick is caught up in a marriage so boring it practically stuns him comatose, making him an everyday walking zombie.  From the moment he wakes up in the morning to the moment he lies down at night, Rick remains desperately unsatisfied, yearning for any spark of vibrant life to light his extinguished flame.  Seemingly, Rick has everything he could ever want, money, a family, security, the American Dream, yet still he feels empty as a bottomless well. 

By sheer chance, while working one of his infrequent mandatory night shifts (which are always boring as a corporate tax law seminar) at the hospital, Rick meets Rena when she comes in looking for her renegade, racist brother who recently got slashed down the face in a street fight.   When Rick and Rena cross paths sparks fly.  It’s like the Macy’s fireworks show on the 4^th of July.  Both of them are so desperate to transform their lives into something more vital and soul satisfying, they’re willing to push themselves to the brink of insanity.

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As Rena and Rick’s relationship develops a time bomb is set into motion.  Will Rena get used and abused or will Rick swoop in and rescue her from impending doom?  Will the fashion industry chew Rena up or is she on a collision course with dirty needles and an overdose?  Is Rick ready to abandon his entire family on what essentially could wind up as a mere fling born out of confusion?  Could Rick escape with Rena to a tropical island or are they both just fooling themselves on what is surely recognizable to a clear thinking person as nothing but a complete and total fantasy?   

Throughout Wasted Beauty, Bogosian writes with such a sharp eye for detail and with such a precise sardonic wit, the pages of my book became razor sharp, so sharp at times it was almost dangerous just to handle them.  Bogosian’s ability to pick up and absorb the everyday patterns and routines of certain people’s lives and then transform them into literary visions for his audience is extraordinary.  It’s like when you read something and then say, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”  At times Bogosian’s sense of perception and communication through language is so acute I’m reminded of Fitzgerald, although coming from a much more lurid, seedy angle.

If you’re familiar at all with Bogosian’s one man live performance shows then you’ll have a little bit of an advantage ahead of time when it comes to recognizing his brand of comedy and tragedy.  For new initiates to Bogosian’s twisted universe, it won’t take long to pick up on and become ensnared by Wasted Beauty’s story of two individuals standing at the edge of a cliff, about to fall off, performing a high wire act without a net.

           

American Master Abstract Expressionist Cy Twombly Dies at 83

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            Cy Twombly, the internationally renowned American abstract expressionist who favored living abroad in Italy, just died from cancer and various other ailments.  Twombly was my favorite of all the American abstract expressionists.  His ability to “blur the boundaries of painting, drawing, and handwritten poetry” was the closest artistic visual approximation of my manic bipolar mind state that I could find over years spent exploring the many various facets of the art world.  His work may seem random and childish to some, as many have accused in the past, however Twombly’s creations transcend these shallow critiques.  He succeeded in creating no less than a subliminal language all his own.  His acclaimed works included The Italians, Leda and the Swan, the Ferragosto series, and multiple works using historical Roman and Greek imagery.

            Rather than rehash Twombly’s career I will tell a story to illustrate his importance in the history of 20^th century art.  Years ago I was completely manic at the bookstore Book Soup on Sunset Blvd. across the street from Tower Records (when Tower still existed).  Out of my mind, I was buying books up right and left, hundreds of dollars worth.  Up in the art section I saw a Twombly box set, the awe inspiring four-volume Catalogue Raisonne.  I forget whether or not you could buy the books individually or if you had to buy the entire box set as a whole.

Like I said, at the time I was completely manic and buying up everything in sight.  Twombly, along with Pettibon and Basquiat, were my favorite artists, so I debated the purchase heavily in my mind back and forth for a good while, but in the end I had enough sense to realize that $400 was a lot of money to spend on art books, so I passed them up.  Unbelievably, I probably bought $1,000 worth of books that day and left the Twombly Catalog Raisonne sitting up there on the shelf.  I think I even asked a clerk to bring it down so I could thumb through it.

           
             Ever since that day I have regretted not purchasing those books, not only because they are the ultimate Twombly books, but because today you can’t find a complete set of them on sale for any less than $2,500.  And those are usually the German versions.  Now that Twombly’s died you can bet the prices will shoot up even more.  Talk about passing up a great investment.  Every now and then I even have a bad dream about my mistake and the lucky people who had the clear vision to fork over the $400 to make the art book purchase of a lifetime.

            “The marvelous thing about having lived so long is to have been recognized along with Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg as one of the three most important American artists to emerge in the 1950s,” Paul Schimmel, chief curator of Los Angeles’ MOCA said of Twombly.  In a New Yorker review of an exhibition of drawings at the Whitney Museum of American Art, Peter Schjeldahl observed, “Twombly’s best art entails an odd transaction: confessing fundamental bewilderment in return for being granted a flare of exaltation.”  I couldn’t have put it better myself.