NICKELPLATEDBAMA

Friday, July 31, 2009

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Bamettes Pt. 1

The homegirl ____________________, (name left blank purposely) came thru with a photoshoot showin love for the BAMA.

On with the pictures...

And one more, even tho I'm not supposed to throw it up...

Thanks ladies...

Round 2 coming soon.

-Uncle Ollie

Monday, July 27, 2009

"Came Right Back Like I Forgot My Keys"

And with that, just know that yes, I am back and badder than ever, but NO, I don't have anything of any substance to hit the folks with today.

I went to Agenda Thursday-Friday. I fagged it tho, and left my camera in my clothes backpack instead on my "backpacker backpack", so I literally only got like 8 photos, all of which were of this wack ass live painting exhibit by a bunch of nobodies and the street artist known as "BigFoot". Cooooooool.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Thursday morning wake up, a bit on the hungover side because I figured, why not get hammed the night before a long ass drive thru traffic in L.A.

Traffic: 1 Ollie: 0

I finally get on the road around 10:05 a.m. on Thursday, next stop: Huntington Beach.

I was jammin', makin great time, no one fuckin' up my mission until BLLLLAAAAMMMM!, Hello Grapevine. (for the non-California based readers, the Grapevine is basically the only way to get from central cali to southern cali without EXTREME detours). 11:45 All of a sudden, everybody locks up the breaks and I get pinched between a literal wall of big rigs. Don't ask me why I was in the truck lane, I think I was trying to make a power move and outflank a large line-up of idiots pacing the traffic in lane 3.

When I finally get clear of the wall of big rigs, I look up to see 4 lanes of traffic backed up for as far as I could see. Literally, a solid 5-7 miles of no one moving. AT ALL.

Cut to 1:45 p.m. I have moved no more than 3 miles in the last 2 hours. The drugs are wearing off and my patience is running thin. I'm even more pissed that the camera has enough juice to take like 6 flicks before it is going to die. I conserve.

Next to me, I see this wild old black lady puffin' tuff on a "big ol bomber" (that's what my ultra hip uncle calls joints). great. No photo op.

The source for this clusterfuck? Some double axled truck turned over and rolled a few times and ended up laid out, completely flat, stretching across the entire width of the freeway.

After I got thru that jam, everything opened up and I was movin well until right around Culver City when the powers that be opened up a flood gate of new vehicles who all decided to get on the same freeway, at the same time, at the same on-ramp.

Drugs are in the trunk, I have lost all patience.

3:20 I finally pull up to the regency Hyatt (host of Agenda) and spend the next 30 minutes looking for parking, until I get a text informing me that I can park at Big Lots! and take the shuttle.

I go into Agenda, camera dies. Meet up with the homie Trav of MSK fame (that's legendary graffiti crew MSK for you legal living souls out there). Trav informs me that I missed all the good stuff at the show the night before when he passed out drunk in the lobby during the party. AWESOME. Just what I wanted to hear.

I go to the bar. $7.00 for a corona?? Are you fucking kidding me?? I'll take 3. thanks for nothing you anal raping son of a bitch (no homo).

Stumble around the show for about an hour and a half, catch a good little buzz, bitch about not having a working camera, start bumming cigarettes (which I gave up almost a full year ago) until finally I find the homie T on the phone, who informs me that he is not coming.

This shit just gets better by the minute...

Pt. 2 Tomorrow. I'm too pissed to continue with this shit today.

I will also put together some photos from other various bloggers that were in attendance down at Agenda as well.

What up REEZ. Thanks again.

-Olls

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Some People's Children...

I thought that since I am preparing for my departure to Huntington Beach for Agenda and don't have much time to write, I would hit the peoples with some classic "ugly people" photos from my personal collection. I am more than sure that most, if not all, of these photos have definitely been seen by the readers, but FUCK IT, they make me laugh and this is my blog so complain to someone who cares.

You see how giving I am? I could have kept this for myself and posted each one individually on days when I didn't have anything to blog about, but instead I give it to my peoples. All 9 of you (Welcome back Kristen)...

-Olls

Don't Piss There!!

I love .gif's.

You take some random video footage of a girl pissin' in the streets and an old man kickin her hard as fuck in the ass, and loop that shit to come up with this awesome little rectangle of joy.

And peace to that old man son, that kick and grill was icier than Ike Turner and Bobby Brown put together.

Go hard.

I really love the internet.

-Olls

First Time Here?

If this is your first time stopping by NickelPlatedBama, I would suggest getting a feel for the blog by going through the archives. There have been too many classic posts to count. If you disagree with an opinion here on the site, make it public. The writer of this blog suffers from a rare condition that allows him to feel absolutely zero remorse when attacking a person's character or, in most cases, lack there of. Please feel free to enjoy, hate, participate, tell a friend to tell 2 friends, but always, ALWAYS stop back here again tomorrow, as you never know what this looney bastard might say next...

Directly below this box you will find an interview with Oliver Wrist by Oliver Wrist that should serve as an FAQ. Anything else you want to know, Oliver will literally answer any and all questions you may have, so don't be shy, shoot an email to Oliver Wrist at: nickelplatedbamadotcom@gmail.com

Nickel Plated Bama: Who? What? When? Where? Why? and How?

Who writes NickelPlatedBama?

Oliver Wrist writes, edits, designs, takes photos, and publishes NickelPlatedBama personally Monday-Friday. Oliver Wrist is an alter ego that I created as a means of getting things off of my chest. Ollie is irrational and flagrant. Once boos are introduced, the hillarity ensues. Rather than feel bad, Oliver chooses to embrace his lunacy and use his shamelessness for a greater good. Oliver's travels and opinions are documented on an almost daily basis. I say almost daily because I don't work on weekends.

What is NickelPlatedBama? What is A Nickel Plated Bama?

Nickelplatedbama is a face-melting social commentary blog written from the perspective of a self absorbed asshole with no shame or morals to speak of. If you're into hip hop music, silky smooth breezys, absurdly opinionated witty banter and reading the rants of an anti-social, overly confident, self absorbed "writer" (for lack of a better word) please continue. NickelPlatedBama is a source for venting and bashing, hating and thrashing, shitting and blasting on everything from bad food to bad music and everything in between. I don't hate everything however. NickelPlatedBama and more importantly Oliver Wrist praise iconic figures such as the ever elusive white girl thickness, mid-'90's hip hop, fashion, graffiti, art, ice cold behavior, celebreality t.v., Chicago Cubs baseball, San Diego Chargers football, College Basketball, Early '90's WWF wrestling, laughing at other peoples misfortunes, and generally acting like a complete type-a sociopath.

Nickel Plated Bama is extra gutter street slang for a nickel (the precious metal) plated hand cannon. You know, a burner, a strap, a gat, a tre pound, a whistle, or for the uninitiated a gun.

When did NickelPlatedBama get started?

Oliver Wrist has been the other half of my split personality for years. It originally started as my DJ'ing name. My career as a DJ lasted only about as long as it took me to write this BIO. As it turns out, I am an awful DJ. Not because I play bad records, but because I butcher the scratches. My brother, Young Smalls, a.k.a. DJ Fuzzy Badfeet, has taken over the reigns and is now my own personal DJ. Although Smalls refuses to accept the things I have taught him since birth as doctrine, he still gets the Oliver Wrist stamp of approval as a purveyor of all things mixed well. He uses my turntables, my mixer, and my records to do his thug-thizzle, but he is a much better DJ than I could ever be, so I just give him enough shit to remain enthusiastic. Being that my foray into the DJ world went south, I decided to use writing as a tool to express myself creatively. Thus far it has proven somewhat successful. How do I know? Well, you're reading this aren't you?

Where did you come up with NickelPlatedBama?

I have spent so much of my valuable time force-feeding the readers of this blog my personal musical preferences (Read: mid-'90's new york hip hop, ign'ant pimp shit, '90's bay area movement, etc.) and blasting all these idiots that set themselves up for utter failure everytime they open their mouth, or press record on the video camera over the last few months, that I forgot to ever place the credit where the credit was due. Nickel Plated Bama is a reference to a line in a song from the 808 King himself (No not you Kanye). I'm talking about The RZA. a.k.a. Bobby Digital. a.k.a. Bobby Boulders. a.k.a. The Abbot. a.k.a. The head of the Wu-Tang dynasty. When I came up with the idea to start writing a blog, I wanted to name it something that most people wouldn't understand right out of the gate, creating a buzz as a result of the inherent curiousity of the average internet lurker. The result was a line from a Bobby Digital album where RZA says "my head is a like a Nickel Plated Bamma". I guess I should just go ahead and spell it out for you. Instead of using an obvious title such as "The Smoking Gun" (besides, it was already taken) for a blog name, I decided to get creative. So, with this blog title, I pay homage to one of my favorite, not only rappers, but creator of things, and still stay sharper than a sword with the usage of metaphor in describing the gun (my keyboard) i use to roast those i deem indesirable.

See above question titled "What is a Nickel Plated Bama".

Why?

Why not is a better question. I hate alot of shit. I want people to know that I hate aforementioned "shit". This was covered in the above section titled "Who writes Nickel Plated Bama".

How do you pronounce the "BAMA"?

It recently came to my attention while I was in the streets passing out stickers and shamelessly promoting this blog that alot of people were mispronouncing the "BAMA". I will make it very easy for you all.

Think Alabama. Don't think Obama. Are we clear now? I really hope so.

Disclaimer:

While most opinions on this site are based in fact, they are merely that, opinions. If you take this shit seriously OR anything that Oliver Wrist has to say personally, than it was definitely directed at you. If you are easily offended, read on, YOU are the target audience. And ladies, Oliver Wrist is the Asshole your mother warned you about. Oliver Wrist is extremely self absorbed and could not care less if your feelings get hurt. If you disagree with anything Oliver Wrist has to say, please make it public, so that Oliver Wrist may be able to roast you publicly.

Sincerely,

The Management

Nickelplatedbama 2008-2009