Pig Roaster

I don’t have much to say that is good about San Bernardino, but I loved this graphic which was painted on the outside wall of a barbecue place during my time there, 2000-2002.

Pig Roaster.

[Originally posted on Rebel Leady Boy, Aug. 10, 2005]

Found Flyer

I encountered this flier while living in Los Angeles. It was issued around New Years, 2002 as part of a campaign to discourage residents from discharging firearms into the air while celebrating New Years.

I thought it was funny in 2002 because it seemed like such a common sense non-issue, but these days, who knows? It would probably be construed as government overreach.

flyer, front.

flyer, back.

Hit 'Em Again

At the time of the 9-11 attack on New York's World Trade Center, I was working the night shift in a San Bernardino gas station. The maintenance guy (Tony) used to come in at all hours and get drunk in the adjoining mechanics' garage since it was closed down in the evenings. There are a lot of funny memories around that situation, but I thought the funniest occurred the day after the 9-11 terrorist attack when everybody was driving around with American flags on their cars and reveling in lust for revenge.

The day after the attack, Tony was getting drunk in the garage like usual and a friend of his kept coming into the station and asking me, "What's Tony doing? Getting drunk?"

I don't know why he gave a shit, but it was really bothering him. Eventually he returned and said, "We should write something fucked up on Tony's truck since he's in there getting drunk." I didn't have anything better to do, so we threw around a few ideas, finally going with a pro-Bin Laden slogan.  After a little brainstorming, Tony's friend came up with the perfect thing.

As Tony pulled out of the parking lot later that night, his car displayed the phrase, "Hit 'Em Again, Bin!" printed across his tailgate in white shoe polish.

It was pretty funny. He later said people were honking at him and yelling at him all the way home. He assumed it was because he was driving drunk, so he'd slow down and then they'd pull up next to him, flipping him the bird, and yelling at him.

In retrospect, I'm surprised he didn't get shot.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 14, 2003]

Innovations in Armrest Design

The second armrest looks way more comfortable than the first.

Sun? Moon?

My dad, Jon Sr., in Anchorage, 2001.

He made this painting by tracing around a trash can lid.

A Jon Sr. original.

Driving Stick

1.) Text from an email sent to brother Todd on May 31, 2000, containing a detailed description of my first experience driving a manual transmission. I was working in a factory at that time and the foreman offered me a forklift job if I went through forklift training over the weekend:

I went to forklift training this weekend and all they had was a stick shift, which I had no idea how to drive. It was pretty bad and the instructor was pretty cranky. I about ran the forklift through his wall and I kept laughing whenever I screwed something up, which was making the guy get madder and madder. In all my preoccupation over how to use the clutch without killing the machine, I kept forgetting the basic forklift safety video he'd just showed us. Looking behind you before going in reverse is very important, of course, because you could run into somebody; but it was far from my mind while I was learning how to drive a stick for the first time (in front of an audience no less).

Whenever I'd back up without looking, he'd yell, "You just killed somebody!!" and then I'd laugh really hard because he was so high strung. I was trying to concentrate on not letting the machine die and safety stuff was secondary to me. I also didn't tell him I didn't know how to drive a stick in the first place, so he thought I was just a real fuck-up.

He kept saying, "OK, I should tear up your license right now, but if you can move that crate and put it up on that shelf without fucking anything up, I'll let you have your license".

I'd say, "Alright" then take a deep breath thinking about how to work the forks and keep from killing the machine. I'd get oriented and start backing up, then he'd go "YOU JUST KILLED SIX PEOPLE!!!"

Then I'd laugh really hard and say, "I didn't mean to!"

I finally told him I’d never driven a stick before and he said, "oh, well, you should learn."
One other guy left before his test because he'd never driven a stick before either. After watching me and the instructor for awhile, he just snuck out the door and disappeared.

Anyway, there's a happy ending. The instructor told me I'd not get my license and to come back next week for more training (I was thinking, "Damn. So much for getting that forklift job then"). He took me into his office where he was really cool (I guess he was just acting like a hardass in front of the group). His associate said this sort of thing happens all the time and not to worry about it. The instructor told his associate to put my license on the bulletin board until next week when I would return to earn it, then he went out for the next class.

When he left, the associate said, "Don't worry about it", signed the license and then looked at the bulletin board and said, "There's so much stuff up there. I don't think we'd be able to find your license. It might get lost...I wonder where I could put it so it wouldn't get lost...{wink wink}...Here, I'll give it to you to hold on to and then you bring it back with you next week...{wink wink}...
I thanked him then left immediately...What a cool guy!

When I returned to the factory on Monday, I was SO NERVOUS about driving the forklift on the job. Then I found out it was a automatic, so I'm fine...whew!

2.) That little bit of stick shift experience came in handy about a year and a half later. I was working at a gas station and taking the bus because my car had broken down. The owner of the station had a side hustle flipping old vehicles—he’d buy them cheap, fix them up, and sell them off. One day, he showed up out of nowhere in an old pickup he was trying to move and offered to drive me to work.

On the way, he told me I could hang onto the truck and use it to get to and from work until he found a buyer. That was just the kind of guy he was. He didn’t pay much, but if you showed a little competence, he looked out for you.

Right after I thanked him, I realized the truck was a stick. Aside from that one rough self-taught session and a forklift incident I’d rather forget, I had zero real experience. I figured if I said anything, he might change his mind, so I just nodded and kept quiet.

When we pulled into the station, it was busy—people pumping gas, going in and out of the store, just generally being around. Re-learning how to drive stick in front of all that was not something I was eager to do. So, thinking ahead, I asked him to park behind the station where it was out of sight. I said I wanted to check the fluids, which sounded reasonable enough.

That spot behind the station is where I ended up teaching myself to drive stick. The car lurched, stalled, and died repeatedly. Once I got to the point where I could get it moving without killing it, I pulled out onto a side street—somewhere no one would know me—and kept practicing. I was completely soaked in nervous sweat. If anyone at the station had seen what was going on back there, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t have let me leave with the car.

San Bernardino Accomodations

This is the shed I lived in in Gina's back yard in San Bernardino. It actually wasn't too uncomfortable, though it would get very hot in the summer. I had electricity and cable. Gina and her family were great.  I'd try to help out where I could and lived cheaply as sort of a Kato Kaelin type.

Bed.

TV and microwave.

I bought a big rug at walmart and it fit the floor perfectly as a carpet.

This was not a great time in my life, but for living in a shed, it wasn't terrible.

San Bernardino, 2000

Kept driving, never found any. And that was the least of my problems with that place. San Bernardino sucked.

Keep Driving.

Y2K

Photos of people on the Las Vegas strip, New Years, 2000. A lot of people thought civilization was going to end because of Y2K. 

New Years 2000, Las Vegas Strip.

My apartment manager suggested parking in reverse and loading the trunk with supplies, so I wouldn't have to back my car out if civilization fell apart. I could just get in and go.  I put a couple of cases of beer in the trunk just to humor him.

All the Y2K pressure sort of made it a shitty New Year.

Donald's Storage Unit, 1999

Donald visiting his storage unit at the end of the millennium.

Donald's storage unit.

Donald was a perpetual couch surfer who rarely had a fixed address. He would stay with friends or in halfway houses throughout southern Alaska. He kept many of his personal belongings in his van, but he also had a storage unit in Anchorage where he could offload some things when his van got too full. I visited his storage unit with him on several occasions when he needed something and had to dig through several boxes of unsorted items to find it.

DX, Suck It

I don't know if anybody remembers "DX", the late '90s WWF professional wrestling team, but "Suck it!" was one of their catch phrases.

"DX" was also the name of a Japanese (pain relief?) product. 

I guess that's all the information you need to understand this:

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 12, 2004]

Cantwell

Out in the middle of nowhere, Cantwell, Alaska hosts an annual music festival. It is pretty much just two days of drunken revelry. It's completely unadvertised. People just know about it by word of mouth

It's right off the freeway in a huge open area. The only structures are a stage, a full blown bar, and a line of port-o-johns.

Everybody just pitches tents or lives in their vehicles for the weekend.

Highlights from the year I attended include:

Dancing on makeshift tables.

Passing out & sleeping in the dirt.

Worth a close up.

Me in the chair, Todd standing above, Amanda on the right, & our photographer in my lap.

Here is a collage:

Cantwell collage.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Jan. 18, 2004]

The Drunken Boat

Valdez Harbor, crack of dawn.

Surviving journal fragment, providing a pretty accurate picture of what it was like hanging out with Donald Kilbuck in the late 1990s:

July 1, 1998 - In the early evening, I was surprised by a knock at the door. I looked through the peep-hole and saw Donald Kilbuck laughing his ass off in the stairwell for no apparent reason. He's tired of his job in Valdez and has returned to Anchorage. Further questioning revealed his Native Corporation Check is due so he won't have to worry about work for awhile.

He plans to use the money from his check to ferry his van to Kodiak where he'll stay until his next Native Check arrives. Then he will use that money to deliver himself back to Anchorage. Well, we all need something to do.

I ended up joining him on a spontaneous 6-hour drive to Valdez where he planned to deliver a bag of clothing to his friend, Patrick.

The roadtrip scenery was beautiful as always, but especially so considering the sunny weather, there was none of Valdez's characteristic rain. We rolled in to town around 2:00 a.m. & hung out at Ihe Sugarloaf Bar which is owned by the Village Inn (Donald's workplace for the past month). 

Posted above the bar, for all to see, was a chalkboard with the message, "Today's Specials" painted on the top section of the frame. Instead of drink prices, the board said, "You're In Good Hands With Allstate - Jon D. Gilliom" & then my phone number! Donald's doing obviously. I have no idea how long it had been up there.

I was pleased to learn the bar did not close until 4:30 a.m. & started in on beer by the pitcher. Donald was determined to wait around until 3:30 a.m. & then go wake Patrick up & give him a ride to work (he works at the Sugarloaf too). The bar was a lot of fun & there were a lot of cool fishery workers in town from all over the country.

By closing time, Donald returned without Patrick. Apparently it was Patrick's night off & he did not appreciate the wake-up visit at all. As the bar began to close, a fellow named Chris offered to take us out on his boat, so we bought a six pack to go, the bartender charged us $18.00 for it! He claimed that since the bar was technically closed, he could get in a lot of trouble for selling. We were drunk enough to go through with the transaction.

At this point, we weren't sure if Chris was bullshitting us or not, but we were just going with the flow. Who cares? Sure enough, once we arrived at the dock, Chris pulled the battery out of his car, stuck it in a boat, and we were off.

As the sun came up, we were taking turns steering the boat around Valdez Harbor. It was beautiful and invigorating. When the beer was gone, we returned to the dock, reattached the car battery, and I offered to buy Chris breakfast in exchange for the boat ride. By now, it was after 7:00 a.m. and we were on our way to Sunday morning breakfast at the Totem Inn.

Donald & Chris in the cabin.

Chris, our Captain.

We really ordered up at the Totem Inn, but by the time our food came, Chris was face down on the table. I don't think he ate a bite of his breakfast. The restaurant became very full as the Sunday morning crowd was arriving. Chris was drawing a lot of looks and comments. I can't believe they didn't kick us out. Donald and I just laughed and ate as if everything were normal. We were super hungry and not about to leave, no matter how many people were staring.

When we were finished, we carried Chris out. Luckily he was able to vaguely direct us to a friend's house (or we interpreted it that way). We left him laying on the front porch and then began our three hour drive back to Anchorage.

Uncle Jon, 1998

 Uncle Jon dozing in me and Todd's orange chair at our apartment in Anchorage.

Cowboy Fishing

Are there any cowboy fishing enthusiasts out there?

Cowboy Fishing.

I discovered this ad for Cowboy Fishing magazine while browsing through a different magazine in the Anchorage library and thought, "That's a real specialty item!"

From the ad text:

Enjoy a magazine with in-depth articles about cowboys and fish, written by cowboys who love to fish with other cowboys. Subscribe today. YEEHAW!

How large could the audience for this publication possibly be? Do they fish with a lasso?

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Mar. 12, 2005]

Going Digital

While the Internet was not readily available in rural Dillingham, Alaska, where I spent the mid-90s, we did have cable TV, so I kept hearing all about how great the Internet was. At first, it seemed like a fad. Initially, I thought they were just talking about email and that people were overenthusiastic about it. Then you'd hear about kids causing trouble from information they found on the Internet and all the rampant porn. That's when I started getting excited about going online—so much information so easily accessible! In the analog world, you had to really hunt around for things.

When I returned to Anchorage in 1997, the World Wide Web (then commonly known as the "Information Super-Highway") was a mainstream phenomenon, but I still had never used a browser in my life. I was able to self-educate myself in the free computer labs of the University of Alaska, Anchorage.

"Fuck you, ape face!"

My brother was working on a digital scanning project for the campus library at that time, and one day he showed me how the scanner worked, which amazed me. He scanned a random comic book image I had with me and then showed me how easily you could add text. I've saved that image to this very day. It’s the one captioned, "Fuck you, Apeface."

We added that text to the original image. Pretty clever, huh?

Another Gilliom Bros. collaboration was, "Jesus Has Joined the Workforce" (below):

Jesus has joined the Work Force!

Yep.

Life, Jim Thompson

 “Life is a bucket of shit with a barbed wire handle.”

– Jim Thompson, Texas By The Tail

Econoliner (Road Hog Weekend)

[Originally posted as part of "Road Hog Weekend," on The Real World...Blogger Style!]

When I think of living in Alaska, I think of driving around in a Ford Econoliner from the late 1970s.

My brother Todd purchased our first Econoliner down in Indiana. He added some special features to the original green van, most notably: a set of sexy mannequin legs protruding from one of the back walls:

Todd's customization job.

The legs were eventually removed so he could install bunk beds for his road trip to, and back from, Alaska. I was able to participate in the Green Econoliner's second Alaska trip in 1994 (documented in Van Log '94).

Mel, Laura, me, & Todd: Ready to set off to Alaska.

One of the green Econoliner's cool features was that the walls were covered with yellow shag carpeting. Carpeted walls = comfort:

Carpet.

In Alaska, the green van was more often referred to as the, "green egg van." This is because of a fried egg sticker Todd had adhered to it. People always asked what it meant. They usually took it to be reference to, "This is your brain on drugs." 

The "Green Egg Van" in Seward, AK.

While Todd drove and lived in the green egg van in Valdez, I relocated to Anchorage where I purchased a second, blue, Econoliner from a co-worker. This is the one I accidentally shot a hole in during my first day on a new job.

At the end of the salmon season, when Todd came back through town, the Gill Bros had two Econoliners on the streets of Anchorage. 

Two Gills in two Econoliners.

After that summer, Todd left me the green van and flew back down to Indiana, so I was blessed with two Econoliners.  I drove one and let Donald Kilbuck use the other one. They both made it through my first Alaskan winter. 

The Green Egg van turned back to Todd when he returned the following summer. It was ultimately deserted in Valdez after its transmission went out. Reportedly though, it would still drive in reverse for awhile and Todd tells me they would occasionally take it on a short drive into town in reverse!

The blue van became Donald's and he continued to drive it into the late 1990s when it finally gave up the ghost. By then, it had a steel bar welded to the front, acting as a homemade bumper and a patchy blue pattern from Donald spray painting over rust spots.

Let the Sun Shine: Donald & the blue Econoliner.

The blue Econoliner from my apartment window, Anchorage, 1997.

[Originally posted on The Real World...Blogger Style!, Feb. 12, 2006]

AK Autos

While I'm recalling Alaska, they had two vehicle modifications that I don't believe are common in most of the lower 48 (states).

1. Studded Tires - Every year, everybody swaps their tires for winter tires which include dull metal studs to maintain traction of frozen roads.

Tire stud informational display.

People sometimes use chains in the continental states, but the studs are better for long-term daily use (winters are a lot longer up there).

They're an extra expense, the unused set of tires (studded in summer, regular in winter) requires storage space, and changing them is another annoying task on the To-Do list every 6 months or so.

2. Engine Heaters - Alaskan vehicles come equipped with a small heater in the engine; it plugs into an extension cord and is necessary to prevent the engine oil from freezing overnight. So, the cars have little plugs coming out of their grills. It's common practice to plug in the car at night during the coldest couple of months of the year.

In Anchorage, modern apartment complexes had electrical outlets available on posts located in the parking lot, one for each parking space.

In Dillingham, we would run an industrial extension cord from the house to the van.

Here is a photo of me changing a tire on the ice, using a lever made from firewood to assist my piece-of-crap jack:

Changing a tire in a frozen driveway.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 29 2004]

Walk Dude

Dillingham, Alaska, when my brother Todd and I were there (1995–1997), was a very secluded part of the world—it still is, I guess, but internet availability probably changes a lot. When I was there, we had no internet, though we did have cable TV, so we weren’t entirely disconnected in terms of information, even back then. It was certainly physically disconnected, though. There were no roads to or from Dillingham; it was more of a hub town for a handful of scattered Yu'pik villages and a boat harbor with access to Bristol Bay. No fast food, though there were a couple of restaurants, bars, and grocery stores.

One year, our supervisor directed us to participate in the local parade. We drove the company van through the streets of Dillingham. While we didn’t have it together enough to create a proper float, we felt we should haul something, so we put an old Nordic Track exercise machine on the flatbed trailer and hauled that behind us. Our supervisor created a wooden figure which we all referred to as the “Walk Dude.” We added a few balloons and some signage to identify ourselves, and we were good to go.

The company van.

The "Walk Dude."

Signage, balloons, and brother Todd.

Driving into town.

It may not have been the most impressive parade float to ever see the light of day, but it served its purpose and it was hilarious. The weather was also terrible for a parade which made the whole endeavor ridiculous.

Once we hit town, there was a pretty good turnout:

 We threw out so much candy. The kids loved it.

 

It was pretty fun hauling a muddy balloon-decorated Nordic Track through town on a flatbed and throwing candy to the crowd.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Dec. 11 2004]