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Lost Angeles, CA, United States
Omnipotent master of chaos, student of life, purveyor of shenanigans and your best friend...

Thursday, September 24, 2009



I know there's a whole sleu of dedicated non-existent fans out there that have been dying for this next blog post to get published but fear not, THE MESSIAH HAS RETURNED!

Having recently arrived back home from an extended net-based stay in Ding Dang Bang Thailand, I've truly come to appreciate the great gifts America has to offer.

Don't get me wrong, while in Thailand I had managed to land a successful and lucerative carrer as a whore to whore merkin salesmen and was flipping pancakes for quarters and hojos from ladie boys on the Nom Phen strip. But hey, who measures success by the number of hojos recieved and merkin's sold?

In America we have warm apple pie, sick surf and myrts that are actually myrts with massive fake warlocks and not inverted wangs covered with my coup de grace merkins... DATS WASSUP!
That being said I've returned to Cali reinspired and deadset on keeping it roots... nothing but surfing, myrts, photography, film, music and comedy to keep you all frothing and foaming! BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I'LL BE KEEPING IT... ROOOOOOTS!

Now who wants a merkin? Or at least a fantasy getaway on my fabulous yacht?

Check out the footage from last years winner's ab-fab soiree below:

Mordecai... are you still there?

Whats that?

You want to speak with Black Jesus?

Who doesn't!


Monday, January 12, 2009

Cock-Master 2009


Rock that cock like Kongo Hellman baby!


Cock-Diesel- basically an expletive that denoting true hardness... both in a literal sense and, well, I guess also a non-literal sense. Nevertheless, two thing that are never disputed is that no one is more cock-diesel then the Governator and anything cock-diesel is badass. For proof of this globally accepted definition refer to the photo on the right."My cock is dieseled out!" -Christopher "Cock-Diesel" Lara
For more information on Cock Diesel:


It's been a while but it's seems that Johnny Law is back on the fritz and on to me! It all started this last Friday when 50+ diked out, bowl sporting, carpet munching, four-eyed Asian cop ticketed me for making an illegal left hand turn on my way to work... CUNT! On Saturday I received yet another $55 ticket for parking overnight in a LEGAL overnight meter (luckily I took a photo of the sign). Finally, it all culminated on Sunday while scoping out a vantage point for a photograph in front of my boy Phil Spector's mansion. Yet another ASIAN INVASION PIG creeps up on me and harasses me by telling me to keep my hands on the wheel as he questions me or he "will not hesitate to blow my brains out". WHAT THE FUCK!!! He soon realizes what an ass he's been when he sees that I live two blocks away and he's wasted his time on a bunk burglary call made by some nosey neighbor who suspected us of casing the house in my pajamas.

In addition I also had the opportunity of scoping out a new illegal after hours spot and also found out that Lucky Strike at La Live. Beware... any place that doesn't allow jeans is whack! However, the weekend ended on great not after having met, photographed & interview sensational local Joshua Petker!


Every once in a while we all have the opportunity to run into someone or something that shock, awes and inspires. This past Sunday I had the privilege of running into both at the same time. Soberingly humble and refreshingly talented local Los Angeleano artist Joshua Petker is a breath of fresh air in a city full of smug. A city where you need to be somebody, know somebody, or act like your somebody to coax so much as a rub & tug from the fat hipster chick next door.

Nevertheless, his tact for art and dexterity with his hands are by far transcended by what he inadvertently represents, the essence of modern urban artistry. Josh was never professionally trained and never attended art school. His art is a product of the streets of Los Angeles. As a graffiti artist in his youth, this set the foundation for the formative elements of his technique... raw unmixed paint, provocative colors and free design. Proof that art comes in all shapes and sizes, but most importantly emenates from the heart... not a text book or a classroom.

Bearing the heart and soul of a modern artist set free from the woes of rules and boundaries Josh seems to be effortless in his approach to create evocative imagery. Caught somewhere between the un-objective stylistic guise of Gustav Klimt and the color palette of Jean-Michael Basiquiat, Josh is the epitome of what modern street are is and where it's going.

It's not often that inspiration knocks on one's door, but Josh's work seemed to kicked mine down. Beyond his awe inspiring paintings lies a not so average human with an ever so real and down to earth vibe. I can honestly say that the unattainable beauty captured in the women of Josh's paintings are boner inspiring! And although I'm positive that the women he portrays in his work are breathtakingly beautiful I still refuse to believe that they're as amazing as what he makes the look like in his paintings. Tall order... I think not! I never thought I'd be turned on by an abstract painting of woman and here I stand correct with a ranging Woody Harrelson in my hand. If that's not proof of how good he is at what he does than your probably a twink! I can't wait to see what Josh comes up for his next art show.

Special thanks go out to Josh for bringing me into his home with open arms and to musician Poet Name Life (a.k.a. Jaime Munson) and my brother Christopher Lara for making me a part of this amazing experience.... much love to all of you!

Stay tuned for my next blog when I reveal my soon to be shocking and disturbingly fantastic encounters with artists Matthew Bone and Paul Chatem later this week.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Bring On The Weird-OH-NINE-ness!

Happy 09' parentfuckers and myrt frothers! Father time has brought us a new year... Papa Snarf brings you new stories and more weirdness than Pee Wee Herman to hyperactivite your brain's synapse more intensely then the dopamine levels created from doing the "Colombian Ostrich" and burying your head in a kilo of shneaks originating from LA's beloved Skid Row. Just ask Pee Wee... crack rock on!

Being that this is my first installment since my intro about a month ago... please note that these blogs will follow a very loose format (think Rosie O'Donnell's wizard sleeve) and will never be as long as this one...


Parentfucker- In this day in age we can no longer afford to be sexist, ignorant or politically incorrect. "Stop using the word motherfucker. It's insensitive. Instead use the gender neutral parentfucker from here on out".
- Kimberlee Cordova


Since my intro post I attended an awesome event in Downtown LA known as the Old Bank District Block Party. 4th Street was shut down between Spring and Main and featured open art exhibits and outdoor beer gardens from 6 to midnight. We later found ourselves at underground after hours club which led to the perhaps the greatest dance off of 08' between Surf Ambassador Hendo and Papa Snarf McMeowskers... nuff' said!

These antics soon parlayed into a surf/photo trip to the infamous land of blue chandeliers and pipe dreams (interpret as necessary) ... yes ladies and gents... the North Shore of Oahu. I was soon surfing my brains out and shot more photos than Ansel Adams at Yosemite or James Nachtwey in war riddled Rawanda. Robert Cappa would be proud! I soon joined forces with the Surf Ambassador himself, Hendonesia, and the always epic South African man of men D-Schech. My living quarters for the duration of my stay was located just up the street from Foodland in the Pupukea Highlands. My next door neighbor was North Shore Pipeline Posse enforcer Jason Frederico. I surfed Pipeline and lost a fin to it's almighty reef. Hung out at Breaker's, Kainoa's, Haleiwa Joe's and the Turtle Bay's Bay Club where one of the boys passed out in the bar's outdoor cigarette planter and prompted a visit from the fecal phantom visited our room (btw we discovered who the phantom that night was). We partied so hard in Waikiki one night with a bunch Indian chicks from Perth, Irish girls from Galway and Brazilian myrts from Sao Paulo that boys ended up spending the night in the car... I slept in the trunk!

I finally returned to LA with just enough time to recover for New Years Eve! The next day I found myself at Giant Maximus... somehow finagled VIP access and it was suddenly a new year! Nevertheless my pictures are worth a thousand words so stay posted for them!
(photos courtesy of


Unless you've been dead for the last few years, are still a fetus or have been living the pipe dream the word "hipster" should ring a bell. Just for the record, I am not a hipster... I'm a surfer, a hustler, a mover and a shaker... but most definitely NOT A HIPSTER!. Hipsters are egotistical conformist following a trend because they have no sense of themselves. Though my style and preferences would be equated as "hipster" these days; I've been wearing funny hats, flannels, tight clothes, and Vans shoes since I was a kid because it was cost effective, functional and usually a hand-me-down. Not because it was cool, but because I didn't give a shit about what anyone thought... now that's punk rock! When you were wearing Abercrombie & Fitch, Hurley, Hollister and Gap; I was wearing whatever you had deemed as trashy, seditious or "so last year". My ghetto style is your pre-packaged, glossy paged, status magazine acquired life. Quit stealing my heat you damn hipsters!

I whole heartedly believe that being a hipster has gone from being a lifestyle description to becoming a fashion trend. Due to the trend becoming heavily saturated with wannabe douche bags I now see the hipster scene as a group of people attempting to pose as something they're not... cool. The "hipster look" arose from a dissonant group of human beings setting themselves apart from normal society through disassociation on several fronts; be it fashion sense, taste in music or social circles. The clothes people wear these days don't hold as much water as their attitude or outlook on life do. For me a "true hipster" is an individual who is accountable to only themselves and not to the trends that surround them. It is more of a mentality than a style... an individualist mentality which dictates your own unique style. To me these are people who know they're cool unto themselves and don't go out of their way to look "cool" for others... a.k.a. poser bitches seeking validation from their peers.
This new wave hipster fashion trend is a juxtaposition of the the original meaning of the term "hipster", hence a "true" hipster's unwillingness to ever accept being designated as a hipster. A "true" hipster is someone who is unique and independent in their ideals, principals, social life and mannerisms and could give two shits about what someone has to say about them. If your offended by this blog than you're not a "true" hipster... you're actually a "kookster". The threads these self proclaimed hipster posers wear are just a translucent mask to help them fit in (a.k.a. a conformist) with the "cool kids". Congrats, you're a lame ass copycat riding on my coattail.
Now, I don't want hipsters to get the wrong idea. I'm not coming down on them because of the way they dress or the things they do... in fact I think it's a pretty sweet style. Some of the hardest people I know dress like "hipsters". However, I do have beef with the whole conceded Hollywood elitist hipster attitude most of these kooksters seem to possesses. It's pretentious and a juxtaposition of the real person they're hiding underneath those v-neck American Apparel t-shirts, striped cardigans and kook-net stockings. I'll snap those hipster twigs you call legs hiding under those munster pants in two and use em' as a back scratcher/golf club. Can't you guys just be yourselves and go sit on that big black vibrating strap-on your hiding in the pocket of the fur-lined Hollister jacket you wore last winter? Nevertheless, I can't help but appreciate that I'm now "in style" so that I can froth all the retard unassuming hipster freak myrts that roam the streets of my city. Bring it on! You can catch me outside of Bar107 with a sausage cart full of ween to feed all you bitches! Thanks for being a bunch of posers America... you rock!

If you want to find out if someone is actually a "hipster" all you have to do is ask. If that person smiles, nods or answers approvingly then you're dealing with a kookster. If they give you a mean look or sock you in the face... congratulations... you've just met a real hipster.

However, for far greater clarification beyond my own bias of the the whole "STER MESS" consider the words of well respected Williamsburg indie-rock promoter Todd P:

What you have is the group of people that most folks are meaning to dis when they say "hipster" — that crew is the "Trendsters" — the least positive group of hip kids out there, trendsters surf around on other people's ideas rather than coming up with new ideas of their own. The best kind of hipster is defining his/her own culture, and following his/her own tastes outside of trends and commercial bullshit.

Now that's keeping it real!

Friday, December 5, 2008


Good day humans and welcome to my first official blog posting! I never thought I'd hit nerd-bot status but I've finally hit the bottom of the barrel thanks to some inspiration from a very weird and creepy character (HINT: he thinks he's Hawaiian and looks like a Ben Stiller/Vampire love child). You can scope his degenerate outlook on life at This blog is basically a physical manifestation of my warped mind. In essence, welcome to Jon Malkovich's head on crack. However, please bare in mind that these thoughts do not represent who I am or how I view life, but rather serve as a platform for me to discuss the intriguing occurrences that I've witnessed in the world around me. So with out further adieu, it is suffice to say that THIS BLOG IS NOT MEANT FOR ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL! OK? Now who brought the smoking monkey?!?!

Now that you all know where I'm coming from, it is now time for the general disclaimer:

Reading this blog may lead to hysterical crying, laughing, dancing, drug use, status upgrades, omnipotence, projectile vomiting, libido boost, more money, random unintentional boners, suicidal tendencies, sporadic diarrhea, rectal itching, bigger boobs, shneek attacks, kookmyers, butt snakes, meow snarfs, relentless hogging, irregular masturbation, headless birds, syphilis, herpes simplex 1 & 2, amazonian take downs, erratic myrt slaying, pipe dreams, floater tweaks, 360 airs, shralping, frothing, foaming & doming. Sir Snarf McMeowskers assumes no responsibility for anything that happens to some pansy as a result of indulging in my awesomeness that is represented by this blog. So please read responsibly... and if you wear Crocs don't bother to read on at your own risk...

Congratulations on passing your first ocular disturbance test and making the right decision... freedom of perversion is a beautiful thing in an ugly world. Now, after having agreed, it is vitally important that you know what topics this blog will be covering. Since this is my blog, we will be discussing what matters to me and what i find interesting. These topics that we will be discussing are an approximation of the world I live in and the things that I do. This approximation is comprised of myself, surfing, art, music, film, sports and urbanity.That being said, here is a rough list of what my key subjects of discussion will revolving around

surfing, photography, cinematography, nature, urban living, modern society, sea monkeys, lomography, the film industry, film making, soccer, architecture, quantum physics, technology, history, pre-Colombian modalities, travel fashion, art, music, partying and the media. Oh wait! And also Thundercats, Teletubbies, ham sandwiches (no mayo 0r pickles) and smoking monkeys.

In closing, prepare yourselves for a wild ride folks because Mr. Toad is driving and there are no shoulders on this one way highway to hell. I would also like to encourage everyone to check out me best mate Sir Hendo's blog at Many thanks go out to him for inadvertently starting me down this path to blogdom even though he doesn't know it yet. In addition, it would behoove everyone to start Meow Snarfing your way through life... literally! It will get you into fights, get you laid, paid, slapped and made from New York to Ding Dang and back. But, in the end you will become a much wiser individual for it.

Stay tuned for next week when I divulge myself, leak some new photos and clips from my new projects as well as provide you with a play-by-play of my soon to be antics from this weekend.

Seriously though, has anyone seen my pet blind wolverine or my screeching weasel? Goddamn marmots! FAK!