Weekend Happenings!

If you're in Portland this weekend and you dig Rock & Roll, there are two places you need to check out.  The first and foremost is Slabtown as it will be showcasing one of the city's finest Rock and Roll showcases, The Bender:

This year the line up is absolutely nuts.  The show is basically a showcase for Goner Records from Memphis, one of the best garage labels in the country, and is also hosting great bands from Siltbreeze and tons of excellent local acts. The real highlights are of course the headliners: Mudhoney (Duh), Pierced Arrows (Holy holy these guys are heros), and Jack Oblivion (Ex Oblivions member, his current work is pretty good garage/folk at times sounding like Johnny Thunders, Lou Reed, and every other good band from the early 70's. Great album from Memphis' finest, Goner). Hank IV, excellent straight forward rock with a slight punk leaning just put out an album on Siltbreeze (One of my fav labels) that is pretty bitchn'. Other bands I think are worth checking out are:King Louie, Harlan T. Bobo, Hairspray Blues, Ty Segall, and The Wires. I'm pretty jealous over here in the land without Rock & Roll, I hope you folks wind up checking out as much as you can.  You can get a wrist band for 28 bones and that'll get you in to all of the shows, that is if they are still available.  Or you can pay 12 dollars a night and risk having the show sell out, which I would be shocked if they didn't.  Another noteworthy detail is that the afternoon shows are going to be free.  On Saturday Ty Segall will be playing for free and on sunday The Wire will be going at san charge.

Next up, while you're in the neighborhood you need to check out my friend Erin's store on the Corner of NW 17th and Marshall.  Right now they are currently in sale mode:

If you're smart, you'll roll by on friday before the show and swoop some new threads, grab a free PBR, and then saunter over another block and scope the Rock & Roll in your new digs. I believe Fringe Vintage closes at 9 PM on Fridays, so don't miss it.  If you're not going to the show you should still check out the store anyhow.  Fringe also has a new Etsy presence, so you can check out the vintage threads on your modern day tech:  

http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6790178

Their blog posting is on the side bar to your right.

If you happen to be in San Francisco then you should definitely check out my friend Matt Palladino's Art opening.  Pertinent info below:

Below are some of my favorite Palladino's

Tatiana the tiger in an internet porn situation

The People's Pastor. Jim Jones.

Don't stay in the Rose Garden.

Have a nice weekend folks!

Strange Days, Bizarre Night

The coming of the weekend has brought with it a strange tidal wave of oddities and anomalies.  To kick things off, I have been having a number of strange dreams.  I'll spare you a line by line detailing of my trips to Nemo's kingdom, but here are some strange events and characters that were somehow connected in my visions of night: 

I am desperately late for High school and running my fastest to meet my destination.  However, on the way, I somehow get sidetracked and wind up hiding out in my Dentist's office.  I have a very clear image of my Dentist, one Dr. B. Bothwell, a very tall, slender man who is an avid cyclist, completely focused on a full mouth of teeth, steadfastly scraping and poking away.  Meanwhile, I slink into the bathroom, which looks less like one found in a dental office and far more like one that you would find in a minor league baseball stadium, rows of dirty urinals surrounded by cheap tiles.  Anyhow, for some reason the bowl at the bottom of the urinal is unusually long, meaning that I have to piss about 3 feet to mark the back of the urinal unless I want to be standing in a pool of urine.  To make matters worse, there is a large turd chilling where the drain should be.  Incidently, I really need to take one, hence lurking in the bathroom to begin with, so in unzip my pants and and let loose.  Except this isn't your standard whiz, oh no.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  As I release, my piss escapes and makes direct contact with the crap at the other end of the bowl.  It's explosive.  The poop flies everywhere and leaves me speckled with every shade of shit from here to Shanghai.  Bummer.  From out of nowhere a smarmy, short nosed dental assistant of about 25 enters the bathroom at the exact moment my face turns into a fecal mosaic.  He leads me by the arm to a shower stall at the other end of the dental office all the while with an oily grin slapped across his face.  Fucking asshole.  Just before he throws me into the shower he puts on a pair of those trifling plastic gloves that come with cheap hair dye and begins to paint my hair with a bbq basting brush.  In my dreamy haze I don't question his actions and enter the small shower.  When I exit the shower I slowly walk towards the mirror to find my self totally naked and with orange hair styled in the likeness of a Dragon Ball Z character.  That's a wrap.

The other dream involved vehicles a la Madmax and a giant parking lot that looked like it came straight out of a post apocalyptic future setting.  For some reason I am following a crack head with a heart of gold trying to locate and/or escape from some unknown pursuers.  At one point I am in a broken down old theater that looked like a fallen vestige from a bygone era.  There I begin drinking night train from a paper bag with my crackhead friend, surrounded by small children and suburban Mom's.  The curtain goes up and the the theater becomes flooded with with those plastic bubbles that the toys from  quarter vending machines that used to be in grocery stores and laundry machines would come in.  You know, the ones that used to house those sticky hands and shitty plastic jewelry.  Boom. I wake up.

The real world threw me for a loop when earlier today one of my students nervously handed me a love letter just before class:

Breaking hearts in The Land of the Morning Calm.

I awkwardly accepted the letter, immediately impressed by the occasion specific stationary and sparkly hearts.  The young girl happens to be one of my best students and is absolutely cute as a button.  I went along with my lesson, said goodbye to my class, and went back to my office.  There I opened it and was shocked, by the intensity of her 7 year old emotions.  As an English teacher I was also somewhat shocked by the level of her writing.  It was much better than anything I had seen her produce in class.  I was then overrun with questions.  Where on earth did this little girl get romantic stationary?  Surly her parents must have known about the stationary and therefore had a reasonable chance of knowing about this letter.  What did they think of there 7 year old daughter writing a love letter to a grown man?  What am I supposed to tell this girl when I see her?  Geez.

 I guess the letter was a day late.

All questions aside I have to say part of me was touched by the letter.  It was probably the most heartfelt love letter I have ever received.  There was a sense of urgency and intensity that I have seen in few such letters.  It was just one of the most sentimental, cute artifacts I have ever seen, and if there is one thing that pulls at my heart stings it's sentimental kid stuff.  Gets me every single time.

To complete the dimensional triad of bizarre happenings and to bring things back to the theme of defecation, I have one final story.  Earlier today I was reading Dreams From Bunker Hill, an installment of the Arturo Bandini series by one of my favorite authors, John Fante.  For those unfamiliar, the story revolves around an Italian writer raised by a deeply catholic family from Colorado who moves to Los Angeles to pursue his dream of becoming  a famous writer.  The stories are often filled with accounts of Arturo's insatiable lust for young women and his conflicting catholic roots.  Tonight, as it so happens, I brought the book to the restroom to keep me company.  While there, I ran across a passage where Arturo is in church attempting to pray to God to assist him in finding success as a Hollywood writer, but is unable to focus on his Hail marry as he is constantly interrupted by vivid thoughts of laying his secretary.  It was at that moment in the book where I had a strange, nostalgic/religious recollection.  I set the book down on the bathroom floor and began to attempt to recite the prayers I would say as a small boy every night before I went to bed.  I said them all several times in the exact order I used to as a small boy.  I began by recreating a cross across my chest "In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit" and went into a modified children's prayer that my mother taught me.  The original goes like this:

No I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the lord my soul to keep,

And if I die before I wake,

I pray the lord my soul to take.

The version my mother taught me was slightly different:

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the lord to God Bless...

And then I went into a long list of family, friends, and other important people to me.  Amen

I then moved on to the next prayer, Our Father:

Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be they name,

Thy Kingdom come,

 Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

 Amen.

Finally I ended with Hail Mary:

Hail Mary,

 full of grace,

The Lord is with thee,

Blessed art though among women,

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary,

 mother of God,

Pray for us sinners now,

And until the hour of our death.

Amen.

I then finished it off with my customary cross across the chest and was done with it.  Once it was all said and done I realized that I hadn't said those prayers in that sequence in... I honestly couldn't say when the last time I went through that ritual.  I think I stopped saying those prayers when I was about 13 or 14 and realized that the prayers really had no divine meaning behind them and that they would not make my hopes or dreams come true.  I later became resentful for all the time I had wasted as a child saying those prayers.  For a long time I resolved to never say them again.   It was a strange feeling to go through with the whole routine again.  I felt a little bit foolish for reciting prayers I know to be completely ineffectual and that I have so often ridiculed.  Even so, I am a little nostalgic for those youthful evenings when I prayed to God with so much hope and wonder in my heart.

Electric Crucifix Skylines

One of thousands.  These crucifixes line the city skylines.

This is the typical layout of a building in my neighborhood.  Mixed use commercial spaces organized without any rhyme or reason, hundreds of neon bulbs advertising everything from car dealerships to nail salons, and always, always God on top looking down on it all.

One of the first images I can remember seeing on the ride home from the Incheon Airport upon my immeidate arrival were crucifixes.  Hundreds and hundreds of them, lining what seemed like every single building on the side of the highway.

I had always known that Christianity was a big part of many Koreans lives.  The high school I attended was, when I last checked 45% Asian in population, many of those being Korean Americans.  One of the common threads among the Korean American population that attended my school was active involvement in one of the many Korean Churches in town.  Many of them played in church basketball leagues, volunteered with church groups, and participated in youth events like dances and church camp.  I had also done some research into religious demographics before arriving here in Korea.  I found that surprisingly, roughly half of the population does not self identify as belonging to any religious group.  However, of of the half that does, 60% are Christian (40% being protestant and 20% catholic).  Incidently, the next largest religious group are buddhist making up roughly 40 % of the religious population (I'm aware that these two groups add up to 100%, these are rough figures.  The remainder of the religious population is miniscule in comparison and is comprised of small sects of confucianism, new asian religions, and Korean Shamanism.).  Some other impressive stats are Korea is second only to the bible thumping United States in the number of Christian missionaries they send around the world and Korea also houses, by some accounts, the largest Christian church in the world, at last count in 2007 the Yoido Full Gospel Church had a congregation of 830,000 parishioners.

Last weekend when I went out with one of my pious christian coworkers I questioned her about how young Koreans typically meet one another and begin dating.  The first answer she gave me was none to surprising.  She told me that it was very common for friends to set each other up on blind dates.  Okay, perhaps a little awkward, but really nothing too strange there.  What came next didn't so much come as a surprise as it did a strange affirmation of what I had already expected.  She told me that many young people meet each other in church groups and social events.  Granted, this is coming from a young, relatively uncorrupted church going Korean woman, but still, with a country as pious as Korea, it's not hard to believe that her story is not so uncommon.  Her response further peeked my interest.  I asked her, "so, how many people go to your church?"  Without any hint of self consciousness, she earnestly replied "about 7,000."  Holy shit, indeed.  She told me that the church services were typically broken up by age groups and other demographics that would likely put people of similar age and status into services together, hence increasing the likelihood of meeting a suitable date.  Whoa.  Pretty strange to me, but then again I'm not exactly a god fearing child of Christ.

One last note on the aesthetics of these omnipresent electric crucifixes:  Why do they have to look so garish and gaudy.  They look like they were designed by an 80's coke dealer.  I mean there are strip clubs in Gresham with better neon signs than some of these churches.  With congregations numbering in the thousands, you'd think some of these churches could shell out for a more timeless, at least less visually offensive sign.  Feel free to weigh in.

Hagfish- For Sex or Sustenance?

There is a plethora of great little restaurants within a five minute walk from my house, like  probably literally over 50.  There are a gang of Hofs, the Korean equivalent to a bar and all of them serve a ton of tasty treats like delicious soups, savory pancakes, and have a fried food menu so vast it makes you wonder how old Korean men aren't dropping dead in the street at every corner.  There are plenty of BBQ joints that always have burning wood coals chilling outside their restaurants.  You can often see the waiters carrying in steel bowls of white hot wood with a flat steal bar that looks like a giant slim gym (the kind you use to break into cars not the OOHHHH YEEAAh! "Macho Man" Randy Savage variety).   Fresh Tuna restaurants are plentiful and exquisite.  For 20k won you can stuff your face with all the raw tuna you can handle and be served side dish after side dish like some sort of royal dignitary.  There are also a surprising number of restaurants that specialize in fried chicken.  I mean go figure, who would have thought that Yongin would have more fried chicken than Oakland.  Then of course you have your small mom and pop style places.  They are usually about half the size of a Subway Sandwich in the States and from what I gather you can eat as much as you can handle for around 4k won.  Then of course there is the flip side.  There are the trifling western restaurants.  The most common bastardizations usually come in the form of Italian restaurants.  These places are really pretty piss poor.  In a country where very, very few of the grocery stores sell cheese and you can't get a decent loaf of bread anywhere, Italian food might be a little lofty a goal to strive towards.  Bless them for trying though, god knows I've patronized them out of shear desperation my fair share of times.  Then of course there are the mind numbingly strange restaurants.

There is a little restaurant directly around the corner from my house that specializes in Hagfish.

Truly inspired graphic design for a restaurant that specializes in prehistoric meat.

I pass by/smell this tank every day.  I think if you look carefully you can see some slime formations.

  Now, "what is Hagfish" you may be asking yourself?  Well, allow me to answer.  Hagfish is a strange creature that is not easily identifiable.  It is neither an invertebrate or a vertebrate, a fish or an eel.  These slimy creatures, typically about 14 inches in length, have a small skull, but no spine.  They are ancient.  Like, they have been writhing around in the deep sea abyss' of every ocean floor for over 300 million years, making them one of the oldest living creatures this side of Earth.  And they are also fucking gnarly, I mean just thinking about them makes me want to deposit a little half puke in my mouth.  They don't even kill like normal beasts.  They lurk on the bottom of the ocean and when their prey comes trolling by they try to dig a little hole into their belly's and wiggle their way inside their guts where they proceed to eat their victims from the inside out!  They also like digging into dead sea creatures and giving them the old inside out treatment as well.  To make matters even more heinous, they're gooey.  They secrete a uniquely disgusting slime.  In fact, they are one of the slimiest creatures in the universe.  Here check it out:

This first video is a nice little intro to the slime/gnarly factor.

This one is a bit more comprehensive and educational, but still, gives me Yukmouth.

Anyhow, if you want to know more about Hagfish, watch that second video above, It really gives a pretty straight forward breakdown of the unique properties of this vile little beast.  Perhaps the real reason these things gross me out so much is because of a VBS short I watched just before I left to Korea about Japanese eel porn.  The shit kind of blew my mind.  It is totally bizarre to me, but not without it's artistic merit, I mean take a look at that still photography.... whoa.  But perhaps most of all, I love Diakichi's total nonchalant, unashamed attitude about his porno.  Note:  This is probably not going to fly at your place of employment.  Check it out:

Not necessarily for the faint of heart

Enter the eel

Now perhaps you can understand my hesitation regarding the notion of eating Hagfish.  I mean, I know now that the eels in the videos were of course not hagfish, as I believe the viscous slime produced by these creatures would make any sort of man-beast love more or less impossible, but still, they look awfully similar. 

 Final verdict:  Hagfish is for sustenance as sex is logistically improbable.  These creatures are much better suited to eat... I guess.

Today A Little Boy Grabbed My Ass and Other Stories

The old Jjim Jil Bang is beginning to look like a Sunday tradition for me.  Wake up at a nice leisurely hour, call the folks, call my homies (if you ever want to rap on the phone leave your number at the Shame Threshold email and I would be MORE than happy to give you a call, it's dirt cheap), then take a nice little trip to paradise.  While today's particular trip did not have the same intrigue or excitement as my maiden voyage, it still retained the sublime feeling of relaxation and all the hullabaloo that comes with hundreds of people vibing together.  I felt more at ease with the procedures and custom that are inherent in a situation where people are coming together to get naked and take part in ritualistic bathing.  Felt like I had the situation on lock.  Yet still I felt the stares.  The uncomfortable stares and feelings of apprehension that only middle age naked men can exert on strange long haired, bearded, tattooed westerners.  I decided that it was best to capture the energy of these stares and in an exercise in mental judo redistribute the scrutiny to assess the average size of the Korean wiener (as seen through the limited lenses of my JJ Bang goggles).

 It is my belief that the average occidental holds the perception that asian men have somewhat smaller penises.  That has always been my experience in the locker room and what I have believed, due in part to a collective opinion that corroborated my own experiences.  But of course when tackling any journalistic/pseudo academic curiosity it is best to clear ones mind of any preconceived notions and engage with an objective attitude.  Hear we go.  Now naturally, this most recent trip to the bathhouse was not the first time that I have had the unique experience of seeing a large group of racially homogenous men baring it all...I have two other experiences visiting Korean Bathhouses.  Previously it was my belief that the Asians were getting a raw deal.  Yes I saw some small penises.  Very small.  But I also witnessed some serious, proud, and large penises.  No joke, there was no mistaking these fellas for anything less than big.  I felt that in fact, the Korean penis was no larger or smaller than his western counterpart (although they were almost uniformly circumcised).

But with the greater exposure to the Korean penis has come, I believe, a more complete portrait of the Korean penis.  Using the only baseline I have available to me, my own penis, which I believe is about average in the west (nothing to brag about, but also nothing to be weary of) I have been consistently measuring my own penis against the many Korean penises surrounding me.  It seems, after careful consideration, and adroit assessment that there are more penises on the smaller end of the spectrum that the larger.  Don't get me wrong, there were many a large penis.  Show stoppers.  Big city lights.  Picturesque man portraits that would make any son's mother proud.  But then there were the rest.  Maybe this makes me seem like a racist, westcentric prick, but I call 'em as I see 'em and I stand by my word.  Stay tuned for further updates on the Korean penis.  This is far from over.

Eventually, I left the sanctuary where naked men roam free and ventured out towards the "spa"  where men are joined by their better halves to pursue the single minded objective of achieving complete, perfect relaxation.  Things began uneventfully, I soaked my feet, breathed in the toxin free air of the "oxygen room," where I gently laid my head down to experience the beautiful  neverland between sleep and consciousness.  Onwards to the many hot saunas, until I reached the cool zone, the room which I can best describe as being nothing short of a giant, mild refrigerator.  I had previously approached the room several times, but had always been dissuaded by the large number of small children frolicking about.  Finally, I reached the point where I didn't care how many geriatric woman or rug rats were filling the room, I need to get cool quick.  I enjoyed the room for a modest period of time, maybe ten smooth ones and then ventured out.  As I was leaving the room I was shocked to find a small boy in nothing short of lurk mode tailing my ass while his cohorts lagged behind, his eyes affixed on he and I.  Suddenly the boy reached out as if possessed.  He was in full on zombie stance, eyes askew, head cocked, arms braced straight forwards.  What came next was the only conclusion that could.  He grabbed my ass.  In no uncertain terms he gave me a full on, two handed hand-to-ass lock.  Not quite sure what to make of this situation I peered behind him to give him a stern, if not confused glance.  This did nothing to deter him.  I then moved on to more aggressive defensive maneuvers.  I gave him the old spin around only to find him a  moment later with a firm, determined look in his eye, arms still forward and hands out.  He grabbed me again.  Finally we both exited the door like a pair of bizarro, conjoined twins.  I gave him a final look of shear bewilderment only to find his face completely absent of shame or shock.  There was nothing amiss in this young boys face.  I did the only thing that seemed appropriate, I shook my head and let the magnetic force of his friends draw him back to that cold den and we parted ways.

Still reeling by the unforeseen experience of the cool out room I made my way to the men's lockers where I intended to shower and move forward with my day.  As I approached my destination I passed the seemingly endless row of massage chairs that I had so wished on my previous visit that I had the paper currency to kick start into mechanical nirvana.  As luck would have it, this time I did.  I reached into my baggy cotton sweat shorts and pulled out a sweat saturated 1k won bill and proudly drove it into the appropriate slot.  Oh what luck.  The digital clock above the bill slot unmistakably read 10:00.  Ten fucking minutes for the equivalent of 72 US cents.  And boy was this achievement in modern technology fit for kings.  The throne rammed my back like the pistons of heaven, driving rhythmically into every sector of my back like so many angels hammering me with the love and affection of god.  My eyes became unsteady.  As they focused on the digital clock across from me the numbers on the display began to dance harmoniously as my head shook and bobbed, to and fro.  During the more vigorous and titillating assaults my teeth began to chatter as my body melted into the soft leather of that black chair.  I died and was resurrected during that ten minutes.  When it was all over I sauntered towards the locker room, got as naked as I could, and showered.

I felt the only appropriate conclusion to this evening so solely dedicated to the art of relaxation was to enjoy my favorite healthy treat: Kal gook Sue (at least this is the phonetic romanized spelling of it).  The soup is comprised of hand made noodles and clams served in a broth of undetermined origin... I have the sneaking suspicion that it might be chicken.  This particular purveyor of KGS also happens to have the best Kimchi I have ever had the pleasure of dipping in my mouth.  So I swooped up my fair maiden and made my way down to the local restaurant and proceeded to stuff my face with this warm, ethereal milk.

I am just beginning to become comfortable with my life here in Korea.  It didn't strike me until fairly recently that I had been experiencing something that I naively though I would avoid, culture shock.  The Korean culture is significantly different than the culture of the United States with which I have grown up.  I wont go into a long winded dissection of the Korean culture and how it seems to differ in almost every way to my previous experiences, but suffice to say, they are at times radically opposed.  Anyhow, this stark juxtaposition has left me feeling very nostalgic for my life in the states and dare I say, something which I never expected to utter, homesick.  I have missed my few friends in the states very much.  I have missed Portland and the East Bay.  Places for which I have a strong affinity that borders on kinship.  I miss every person that I know is reading this posting and perhaps even some of those that I don't.  At any rate, it has been a harder time that I had anticipated.  I am pleased to report however, that things are beginning to feel a bit more comfortable.  I have taken up a new hobby, which has been a constant source of energy for me; skateboarding.  I have been taking full advantage of the almost always empty skatepark right behind my house and have been battling with it every chance I get.  I love the sense that every time I go out there and skate I can feel myself becoming better.  It is a distinct pleasure to feel and witness progress in any endeavor.  I have recommitted myself to physical health.  After nearly two years of allowing my athleticism to dwindle I have decided that enough is enough and that It is high time to become as healthy and physically adept as I am accustomed to.  But it will be no more gyms or boring routines for me.  I am only going to exercise in ways that have always made me feel happy, modalities that take me outside and face to face with the physical world.  I am happy to be writing again, even in as casual a forum as this.  I feel like I'm getting my mind right.  Keep up the paper chase, staying fit, and getting some of this strange world.

Still I look forwards to my return stateside.  I can't wait to make some more life changes.  I think I'm finally ready to get above four wheels and purchase a car that will take me from portland to the coast.  I want to start surfing, go camping, and stay active and adventurous.  I miss always being up to something on the physical level, whether it be swimming, biking, or whatever the fuck.  I can't wait to be back with my dog and my friends.  Anyways, this is getting long enough.  Things are getting.  

Be Excellent,

Danny

Music Makes Me High

Today I went to the Samsung Plaza (A gigantic "department store" but what appeared to me to be more of a mall) to scope a bookstore that allegedly sold western magazines.  Unfortunately, the store had a pretty sparse and over priced magazine section, but it was however rife with amazing stationary.  The crown jewel of the stationary department was the "Music Makes Me High" memo pads.

  When I purchased this treasure, I was under the impression that the memos  would be in sticky pad form.  Little did I know.  When I came home and opened the memo's with the fervor of a 5 year old on Christmas morning I found out I was wrong.  The memos were in fact small pieces of stationary most closely resembling a business card or some other form of stationary unknown to me.  The front (excuse me, "Side A") features an image of an old school black cassette that proudly states "Music Makes Me High."

  "Side B) features several ruled lines on the bottom and a blank space on the upper portion.

  Personally, I think the best use for these little wonders is going to be as my own less than personal business card.  For a while now I have been wanting to commission a small run of business cards that feature only my name.  I figured I could use them to give people I meet my contact info and I've always thought that the most minimal of business cards were always the best.  Of course I can't really justify the expense as I really don't seem to meet that many people, at least these days, and everyone just seems to put each other's contact info on their cell phone/digi devices anyhow.  Regardless, I still like the idea.  Back to the point.  It is unimportant whether or not I will actually have the opportunity to hand these bad mothers out, I will still dutifully carry them along with my trusty pen, always ready for the chance to open up my cassette case and hand out my own little slice of personalized Korean stationary.

For more from the creators of the "Music Makes Me High" memo pad, please visit www.roller-coaster.co.kr

An Ode to the Trapper Keeper

Ah, how I miss the Trapper Keeper, Meads solution to all of your back to school needs: It was successfully able to organize all of your school supplies, express your individuality, and make you appear as if you were on the cutting edge of cool.  Those patented butterfly folders gave a much needed update to the Pee Chee folder's old school, plaino vertical compartments, you know, the same type of folder technology that your parents used.  They made sure your irreplaceable 4th period English Lit homework was safely trapped and kept, that shit was going nowhere.

But what made the Trapper Keeper most memorable was not it's utilitarian specifications, it was the artwork, the shear variety and yet equally amazing designs that adorned this cutting edge binder/folder (excuse me, portfolio) technology.  All of the hundreds of individual Trapper Keeper graphics seemed to fit into but a few broad categories.  Frankly, I couldn't possibly begin to categorize all these portfolio classifications, I'll leave that to some more qualified scholar.  I will however, list a few of my favs.  You had your futuristic geometric patterns, the ones with three dimensional shapes floating in a black abyss highlighted by new wave color patterns and lightning bolts.  These were always my personal favorites and I sought them out with every anticipated trip to the Wallgreens, K-Mart, or Longs Drugs.

Then you had the fantasy psych girl designs, best typified by the Lisa Frank collection.  Lisa Frank single handedly brought to life the collective dreams and fantasies of the average mall going, baby sitter club reading, Tiffany listening cadre of femme petites.  She had a whole roster of established characters which adorned her line. There was Rainbow Chaser (the brown horse with the purple hooves), the dapper Hollywood Bear (decked out in a top hat and tuxedo), Max Splash (The Killer Whale who always seemed to be leaping over a beautiful rainbow), Echo the dolphin (duh), Skye (the Pegasus flying high in the Lisa Frank sky), Angel Kitty ( The winged cat with rainbow stripes), and of course Markie (the rainbow clad flagship fantasy animal- unicorn).  While I scoffed at such girly shenanigans in my youth I have come to acquire an affinity for these far out color explosions of fantasy psychedelia.  It's not hard to see why untold legions female youths proudly waved the Lisa Frank banner.

There were so many amazing Trapper Keeper designs that meant so much to so many people.  It's hard not to take a trip through Trapper Keeper memories gone by without feeling a bit nostalgic, without wanting to recapture the excitement and pride of carrying a brand new TP down the halls of your middle school.  I have attempted to mimic this sensation by acquiring thrift store Trapper Keepers... and I have been somewhat successful.  I am the proud owner a beautiful forest scenario Trapper Keeper, one that I proudly utilized during my first professional meeting at my first professional job.  But still, the pride I felt at that first meeting was not the same as the youthful exuberance I experienced walking down those 1992 school hallways.  I suppose some things are impossible to recapture, but it doesn't mean that you shouldn't try.  I leave you with a few of  my favorite Trapper Keepers, ones that would make any child of the 80's proud.