Home Of The Brave (Digital Edition) by Leveled Magazine

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issue 003 The Home Of The Brave 013

who we are A Note from the editor

Regulars 022 048 092

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Open Letter My Life Waiting [Tables] Political rants with crazy carl

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Real Talk 018 034 072 088

Artist-to-artist with aesop rock Breaking Character with Joel Murray, Tara Lynne Barr and Bobcat Goldthwait IMMIGRATION REFORM: A CONVERSATION WITH DOV CHARNEY Off Stage With The Lonely Wild

Gag Reflex 028 029 030 032 033

Facts of Life Customer Service Tweeting with Pinsler Texts of the month Craigslist Conversations Monthly Prank A how-to guide

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRIS FITZGERALD

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HOME OF THE BRAVE

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AMERICAN MADE

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STREETART

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PHOTOGRAPHY BY LES KRIMS

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SECRET KEPT

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PORTRAITS OF AMERICA

070 HOME

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SECRETS REVEALED

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BASEBALL’S LAW OF THREES

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AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

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Quote of the month Gangstas do what they want, suckers do what they can. -NAS

EDITOR IN CHIEF DANIEL LEEB EXECUTIVE EDITOR RAY ADORNETTO

A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

MANAGING EDITOR MATTHEW LEEB MANAGING EDITOR, FASHION VICTORIA ZENGO CONTRIBUTING EDITOR SHANE IAN GILMORE

t is just after 2am on a Monday morning and I’m

COVER PHOTO BY LIZ BESANSON

driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles, the city

PHOTOGRAPHERS LIZ BESANSON, CHRIS FITZGERALD, ANJELICA JARDIEL, LES KRIMS, SARAH ANN LORETH, BEN MILLER

I call home. It’s been a busy, but enjoyable weekend

and I have just enough time to safely arrive in the

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS ALI BAKER, LEONARD CHARMICHAEL, GABY DUNN, JAMIE MALESZKA, BASEBALL NATE, BRUCE PINSLER, CURT SELL, CARL WITHERS

lovely City of Angels to attend a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. The logic behind sacrificing another night of sleep

CREATIVE DIRECTOR DAMIAN ESTRADA INTERACTIVE DIRECTOR DOMINICK VITELLI

in exchange for increased productivity seems slightly

DESIGNER DANTE CHO

skewed to me, yet as the plan is in motion, it makes all the sense in the world. Life is chaotic at times, but I

COPY EDITORS WILLIAM GOODMAN, NINA KATE, TIM PUDER

suppose when it comes down to it, most of the chaos is

MASCOTS LOLA, SOPHIE, GRAHAM

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self-inflicted. It’s the life I chose to live, and living my life how I see fit makes me feel good; it makes me feel free. As an American, a personal sense of freedom is

important. Freedom is the heart and soul of this great nation. We grow up studying our rights and liberties in grade school, we’re taught that America is the land of the free, and that no one has the authority to infringe upon the constitution-bound agreement our ancestors made with the U.S. government to protect our freedoms. (This is probably why we feel so entitled as a nation, but that’s neither here nor there.) America is a place that encourages her citizens to embrace their dreams. She tells us that each and every one of us has an inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, wherever that pursuit may take us. Our Declaration of Independence claims that our Creator grants us this right merely for being a human being. I must commend Tommy Jefferson on this brilliant concept, and I also must say that I agree with him. If nothing else, everyone has the right to pursue life, their own life, in a way that makes them excited to wake up each and every day. This could mean getting married, having kids and working hard to provide for a family. It could mean selling semen to fund a meth addiction. (Although I wouldn’t recommend that, it’s not good for anyone.) It could mean living life with no expectations, photo by anjelica jardiel

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Land of the free, home of the brave

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and just enjoying the ride. What’s important is that you live for whatever it means to you. As much as it’s America’s responsibility to ensure that we as her citizens retain this freedom, it’s our own personal responsibility to take advantage of it. Gangstas do what they want. -Daniel Leeb

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t’s been about three years since Aesop Rock dropped his last solo

creating anything from art, to movies, to music, which brings us to his

record None Shall Pass. Busy touring and working on other projects

latest record, Skelethon, on Rhymesayers Entertainment. He had a little

such as The Dirty Ghosts record, some scoring of a NIKE spot as

time to talk to us about what’s been going on in his world before he hits

well as a collaborative record with Kimya Dawson. The dude stays busy...

the road with his new material and possibly… a fake dead cat.

Matthew Leeb: At what point did you start writing? Did you write as a kid? Aesop Rock: I think I started writing in Junior High School, just to try and write a rap basically. I don’t think I ever really wrote outside of Rap Music. Later in my life I took some creative writing courses, but I never really had an interest in sitting and writing a story. I sort of always was just writing lyrics.

ML: I know you have 2 brothers…Are your brothers or parents artists? AR: My parents are not creative, my older brother was very into music and very creative he was always drawing and painting and kind of playing weird music for me, everything from hip hop to punk rock…. I was introduced to music across the board at an early age. I think at the time, you know, the formative years. I realized that this was what excited me most in life and both of my brother’s helped in teaching me that.

ML: Did you always see yourself on a creative path? AR: Yea, I think in general I always tried to be involved in art, I went to school for painting and even before that I was taking drawing classes outside of high school. That was what I was supposed to try and do, but yeah I like to be around creative people, ultimately it’s where I get the most satisfaction from. I always wanted to get to someplace in my life where I could make things full time whether it was drawing or music, that was always kind of the goal.

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ML: Growing up who were some of your favorite bands/ rappers? AR: Well let’s see, I’m 36 and it was like the late 80’s or quote... unquote “Golden Era,” so all the usual stuff: Run DMC and the Beastie Boys, eventually Boogie Down Productions, Kool G Rap… a lot of East Coast stuff. I also was real into skateboarding and that scene and those skate videos being put out exposed me to a lot of rock bands. I was listening to a lot of bands like Jawbreaker and The Dead Kennedys, that kind of thing.

AR: Yeah, you know it’s like it hit a point where I just wanted to try things and there’s no way to learn like trying other shit and bringing it back to incorporate into your own stuff. With the Dirty Ghosts, it was pretty uptempo and most of the tracks were faster than anything I had rhymed on and the whole “sound” of the band was definitely something that I had to adapt to. Or you know, I’d program some drums and I’d really have to work them into the context of the band. To me that sort of thing is interesting…to not have the final say. ML: What gear are you using nowadays? AR: I’ve always had my ASR-10 which is kind of the center, it’s been my go to piece of equipment that I make a loop on or start a base to create the rest of the beat. So I have an ASR-10, Pro Tools and some other little pieces of gear. Between the people I make music with here, I’ll usually make a beat and invited a few people over and depending on the direction I’m going, well jam on it and I’ll go back and cut up whatever we do.

ML: The imagery you’ve portrayed in your music is always so vivid, do you ever feel like you pick up on things that most people kind of ignore or don’t really take the time to see? That what you see kind of gives you this sort of unique perspective on the world? AR: I try… I think that’s probably a good goal to have. I think it’s a combination of naturally seeing things differently… hopefully, and also keeping a fascination of seeking things out that are a little bit different. ML: I remember playing your records for my friends that were into punk or indie rock. They could have hated Hip Hop, but they always dug your records. It always crossed boundaries. Do you think that’s just reflected in you as a human? AR: That would be awesome. Ha-ha… I mean, I don’t know what it is. I like romanticizing the idea of being able to test people from all genres but I don’t know why that is. I do get a lot of that from people, you know like, “I hate Rap and then I found you!” I mean it’s cool, I welcome anybody from any facet of life and I take it as a compliment, but you know… it’s a weird thing. ML: What are you listening to lately? AR: Ha, shit…lately we’ve been rehearsing a lot so it’s been mostly me, Rob Sonic. I recently bought the latest Tom Waits record, so that has been in rotation. ML: I know Skelathon was entirely self-produced, how was this experience different from other albums you’ve created? AR: Well a lot of my albums I do a good portion of the production for, but at some point with this one it just became this beast, and a challenge where I was like, I’ve got to do this. ML: You’ve got so many projects going on, from Dirty Ghosts to Uncluded, it seems like you’re constantly branching out.

ML: I remember a friend gave me a cassette that had Music For Earthworms on it in like 1998. Did you ever see yourself here in 2012 back then when you were just getting started? AR: No, I don’t even see myself here tomorrow… I’m just amazed that I’ve been able to maintain this long. I mean to me I don’t know if “personal” is the word but it’s like, it’s me in a room in my apartment. You don’t foresee a shelf life or even foresee anyone liking this stuff, but it feels good. It’s great to have someone appreciate something that’s 100 percent you and then have them be like, I want to buy that from you because I like it. In the early recordings it gave me the idea that maybe I could give it to a small record label and kind of tip toe my way into this music business. I didn’t know anything about the record business. My whole journey has kind of been this whole feel of tiptoeing and kind of seeing what’s comfortable for me. I don’t think I naturally feel comfortable in situations of releasing a record and going and promoting myself, it’s sort of a strange thing to do. I guess I’ve just been super lucky to have people in my life that really like what I do. ML: How long have you known the guys at Rhymesayers? It seems like you guys all kind of came up together. AR: Someone gave me an Atmosphere tape in the Overcast days, whenever that was. I met Slug soon after that, I think it was like his first trip to New York, and we’ve had a pretty good relationship over the years. It was kind of in a way that they were always doing what we were doing on the east coast. Right at the same time you’re kind of realizing the world is a little bit bigger than your circle of friends, and you meet people like that and now I’ve known some of those Rhymesayers kids for over a decade. They’ve always been there when I finish a project, I can just take it to them kind of like, we’re here if you need us type thing. ML: What is Block Block Chop? AR: Basically it was just a name I gave the projects I was working on. I guess technically it would be my record label but I just needed a name for it and I called it Block Block Chop. ML: You’ve been putting out a lot of short films and videos lately. Do you see yourself doing more of that in the future? AR: Yea. Video I feel is a relative medium for me. I’ve been editing audio for so long that I have a good sense of where to chop things. I think it’s a direct result of technology being available to anybody. When I was young I had to go buy a four-track, and now you can buy a laptop with multi-track recording software installed. Same thing with film, it was kinda like, here’s my movie it’s sitting on my laptop. I think Cage at the time showed me, which button cut and which button pastes or whatever, and I just jumped in head first teaching myself how to edit. The act of making video and cutting it together was very similar to what I’d been doing for a while so I enjoyed it. In

the fall I think we’re going to release a video that will be like my first “official” featured video that I edited. It’s fun. It’s hard to say where I’m going to take it, but I like to do it. ML: How’s Whiskers doing man? AR: He’s good. I’ve been debating on whether or not he’s going to come on tour with me. I kind of feel like if I bring him on tour, somebody’s mom is going to come up and yell at me for dragging a dead cat around. ML: I think you should probably bring him along. AR: Yea, I mean obviously it’s fake, but it’s pretty gross looking. I’d have to be constantly reassuring people that it’s not real. ML: What do you attribute your success as an artist to? AR: I don’t know man, there’s never been a moment where I’m like, you know what? I’m just going to sit back and relax and feel good about what I’ve done. I’ve always just been worried about tomorrow. I think that’s my personality, anyway. But beyond that, here I am in the music industry, which is already super tense to have a job in. So, I don’t know what it is. I’d like to think that it’s because I’m a hard worker. Then again, I know a lot of hard workers that haven’t been able to maintain being a professional musician. I don’t know what it is and I think not knowing is what keeps me doing my thing naturally. I haven’t ever been like, “Well… they like this song so I’ll just make another one like this.” I’ve always approached it like, “I’m going to make what I’m going to make and you’re going to like it or not.” I don’t expect anyone to stay along for the ride. I don’t know, it’s always been my approach to just stay in my lane and make the records I’m going to make and hope that people are still on board with me.

ML: Are you still chasing that Chris Ware interview? AR: You know what! I got a couple opportunities to do it and I passed. I was like… you know what, after all these years I don’t think I want to talk to this guy because I put him on such a pedestal. Even a couple weeks ago some other mag said, “Hey we got Chris Ware, do you want to interview him?” I thought that I shouldn’t do that; I would just stay a fan from a far. I’ve kind of always been like that. Even if I like a musician, I don’t like them in a way where I want to work with them, I like to be a fan of them. One time maybe two years ago or something I think Juxtapoz said Chris agreed to do five questions. That was the beginning of me deciding that I just want to be this guy’s fan. ML: So you’ve been in SF for about 6 years now. Are there certain things that you miss about NYC? AR: Yes and no, I miss having a pretty close network of friends. At the same time, when I left New York I was really looking for something new. I always had plans of going back there but once I got out for a few years I thought maybe not. I don’t know. I don’t know that I’ll stay in SF forever, but I’d like to try something else. When I first moved here I was wearing my Yankee’s hat every day and thought I was a New Yorker living in San Francisco, and then you get past that. It takes a while to realize that, wow… I’m enjoying my new environment. I do see myself doing it again, just uprooting and going somewhere I’ve never been, just because it’s weird. It stirs things up quite a bit, I think. Familiarity is what use to drive me, and to some degree being completely unfamiliar with my surroundings is starting to drive me.

I like romanticizing the idea of being able to test people from all genres but I don’t know why that is.

ML: Elvis or the Beatles? AR: The Beatles. I never listened to anything by Elvis really.

ML: It seems like if you’re not working on a record you’re always on tour. Do you like that experience? AR: It’s not my favorite part of it. It’s funny because early on I wrote all these personal songs about my life and all of a sudden people started to say, “We like this, perform this song about being antisocial in a room full of people.” So that’s the opposite of what I mentally feel like doing, you know what I mean? Touring is like its own monster, it’s never something I’ve been comfortable with, but I just do it. I have had people like Rob and Wiz with me for years now. So we have a good team and we get through it, and we even enjoy it on a very specific level. Some people love touring and it’s what they’re about, that’s not me.

ML: If you had to pick an actor to play you in a movie about your life, who would it be? AR: Rick Moranis ML: Good Answer.

ML: You’ve always toured with some interesting bands. The Octopus Project, Black Moth Super Rainbow, who are you hitting the road with this time around? AR: Dark Time Sunshine is coming; this kid named Edison is coming, who’s this San Francisco beat-maker. It’s this situation where this kid is really fucking good at doing what he does, and I have no idea what he’s doing when I watch it. I hope that people who don’t know who he is have a similar experience when they see him. He hasn’t really toured nationally yet so I’m hoping this will get him some good years.

ML: Who are some of your favorite writers? Who do you like to read? AR: I never read, ever. I don’t’ think I’ve read a book since To Kill A Mockingbird in school. I read National Geographic and science magazines. I feel like I would do better with books on tape but I never went there.

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ML: Where do you see yourself in 10 years? AR: I don’t know dude, I mean I didn’t see myself here, ever. What I hope I’m doing is anything remotely creative. That desire seems to just die out in people at some point. I just hope that fire sort of stays in me because I want to make things. It’s pretty easy to get discouraged when you’re doing it professionally, whether it’s music or art or anything creative at all.

ML: What about Movies? What are some of your favorite? AR: See, that’s the opposite because I could pretty much enjoy any movie. Of all time type thing I’d have to put Apocalypse Now in there, maybe even Rushmore. I am really looking forward to seeing Wes Anderson’s new movie. Seriously though, I can pretty much watch any single movie and sit through it and take something away from it.

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an open letter to dental martyrdom Dear (some of) you, My dad always brushed his teeth on the most rare of occasions. Some major bank holidays come to mind. A handful of Fourths of July. Pretty sure there was a National day of remembrance in the mid-1980s too that also garnered a cleaning. He shied away from the widely accepted after-every-meal approach. preference was to prescribe instead to the “Big Red” school of dental hygiene – His p 5 pieces of gum at clip to be exact. One. Whole. Pack. As a kid, I would rush to his side most mornings, still pajama clad, to assist with the holy unwrapping of each piece. Off he went to the office, a smiling tornado of cinnamon. But, on those ever-elusive days when the mood or the need for a display of patriotism would strike, he would begin the process that for others seemed so commonplace. Its start was heralded with him bellowing from the bathroom for my mother, demanding to know which of the toothbrushes was his. Knowing this detail was a luxury of certainty afforded to not just my mother alone. It had long become a part of my own brushing routine that I would protect my sister’s, mother’s and my toothbrush from colliding with his in the holder. I would huddle the three together and face his away from ours, spurred by an odd equal combination of both anxiety and reverie. His mumblings would populate the air next – how we’d been improperly squeezing the toothpaste mid tube and wasn’t this the brand that made his teeth too sensitive - all announcements made to his own reflection. I knew what was imminent. Heeding my cue, I would hurriedly scramble to my sister’s room (the furthest room from the commotion) throw the door shut, fling myself onto her bed and press my hands to my ears and begin to hum. To furiously hum a fortress of aural safety. The sounds that I was combating - much like a bagpipe symphony of vomiting, wounded, wailing antelope - would travel down the hallway in terrifying waves. He was brushing his teeth. My father had crafted his own way, thus the only way, in which to truly clean one’s teeth. To do so involved one simple step: brushing so vigorously, with such robust might that one would gag. Violently. The entire time. Like say for more than 7 minutes. On average. Of disturbing heaving. Hacking. Coughing. Sputtering. Spitting. Agony.

His mumblings would populate the air next – how we’d been improperly squeezing the toothpaste mid tube and wasn’t this the brand that made his teeth too sensitive

Cleanliness through hygienic martyrdom. (It’s a fair assessment that we can pushpin each of these moments while tracing the lineage of my nervous humming and years of increasing bewilderment while dating.) Sincerely, Jamie Maleszka

Portraits of america PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANJELICA JARDIEL

JAMES KING ELVIS IMPERSONATOR. MUSICIAN. TRUCK DRIVER.

DANI DANGER PERFORMING ARTIST. PAIN ENTHUSIAST.

Baseball’s law of threes BY BASEBALL NATE

OK, team… Bring it in, take a knee, and listen up. This is the Patriotism issue, and nothing is more patriotic than baseball. Nothing! So here are some interesting facts about our nation’s pastime, brought to you by our resident baseball genius, Coach Fish, that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t already know, you knuckleheads… Everything in baseball occurs in multiples of the number 3! 3 strikes and you’re out 3 outs and switch sides 9 players in a lineup 9 innings in a game 90 foot bases Foul poles are 90 feet high Average major league fastball is 90 mph 60 foot 6 inch pitching rubber A baseball is 9 inches in diameter Average distance to the left and right field fences 330 feet 54 outs in a game (18x3) 162 games in the regular season (54x3) 30 major league teams 3 divisions in each league 3 rounds of playoffs 1 Champ Now get your head out of your ass and go play some good hard-nosed baseball the way your forefathers intended the game to be played. 026

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Total credit card debt in the United States is now more than 8 times larger than it was just 30 years ago.

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I am writing you to express my concern and to show my support for you and your partners. I have noticed an attack by many on McDonalds in the Ads – W recent years. These people claim that the food is so bad but I think it is amazing. I have been eating McDonalds almost Idea M every day for years and I am as healthy as new born Captur Rottweiler. I work construction every day and have plenty of cost-eff nutrients in me. These people have no idea what they are www.Q https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?hl=en&shva=1 talking about. I feel like it’s all an attack on the Constitution of this great nation. I want to let you know that I am on your Chief side and will sign any petition politicalDocuments statement toCalendar make Maps Play YouTube News orGmail MoreJoin 30 sure these people don’t keep continuing to destroy The on Dec Home of The Brave. Bruce Pinsstrateg

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U.S. law enforcement authorities claim that there are now over 1 million members of criminal gangs inside the country. These 1 million gang members are responsible for up to 80% of the crimes committed in the United States each year.

The MidwestSet status most here closely resembles the religious makeup of Call+Bruce phone Search Images the overall population. The South, ahansen by a wide margin, has the heaviest concentration alice of members of canderson churches. evangelical Protestant With great respect and patriotism, ITT Te Gmail has the greatest The television manufacturing industry began The Northeastchicago Associa Bruce Pinsler Catholics, and the in the United States. So how many televisions concentration ofchris Prograf COMPOSE Alternative Energy Hub - www.SEDB.com/AlternativeElectricity - Singapore is Your Ideal Testbed Learn M are manufactured in the United States today? West has the largest proportion of Inbox (30) www.IT mcdonalds including the According to Princeton University economist unaffiliated people,Starred Inbox x Message from McDonald's USA largest proportion Important of atheists and Alan S. Blinder, the McDonalds.CustomerCare@us.mcd.com Sent Mail agnostics.

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Hi there Sara! You are quite welcome. You are just about the nicest customer gal there ever was! Those Golden Arches signify the rights and freedoms of many. I still wear my "Never Forget" Pearl Harbor T-shirt. We can't forget anything Sara. Does Mcdonald's believe in No Child Left Behind? I'M LOVIN IT!!!!! Do you know if they hire only LEGAL U.S. born peoples?? I don't want them beating the American people out of the really good jobs!

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Please be assured that the health and well being of our customers are important concerns at McDonald's. We are committed to doing what is right for our customers and we will continue to work diligently to make sure that McDonald's food can be part of a balanced diet.

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Ted » Once again, thanks for sharing your feedback. Your faith Ted Talk » and trust in our brand is very important to us and we look https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?hl=en& Best Ted Talk forward to serving you again soon under the Golden Arches.

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This is a real conversation as a result of a fake ad we posted on craigslist. new york craigslist > manhattan > gigs > event gigs

The Home Of The Brave -- Metropolitan Shopping Mecca $35hr (Union Square) 9:08AM EDT Reply to: your anonymous craigslist address will appear here

We are looking for a strong, racially diverse, brave, don't ask don't tell crew of protestors. This is a high paying gig so abandon what you believe and ball so hard it gets weird! We are looking for college grads that thought it was a good idea to borrow a bunch of money to party for four years. This is perfect for you Occupy Wall Street bed bugs. The jam band lot party is over, now it's time to OCCUPY A JOB. We will hire you and we don't drug test. We're a major developer that is looking to bring the ﬁrst Walmart into Manhattan. Our plans for the sprawling multi-leveled metropolitan one stop shopping Mecca are ﬁnally complete and we need your help to get the zoning rights. We are looking for protesters that will work day and night to picket in favor of us bringing the convenience and bargains of the patriotic Walmart brand to the residents of New York City. Let's get City Hall and Mikey Bloombergs to stop being un-American! Please respond to why you are good for this job and why we should pay you $35 an hour! Let freedom fornicate!

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David - hi my name is David I’m very interested in the protest in position. I have a aunt with united nations background, I have attended many protests for native american and indigenous peoples rights. that being said I know the seriousness of making a statement who protest. I am willing to work I’m available 6/18/12 11:25 PM and I have people that are willing to come as well. I also have construction, catering, delivery, and security experience. I’m bilingual fluent in spanish and english, 25 years old, 6’0 200 lbs. thank you for your time and consideration. Contact me any time. Dave P.S. We need a walmart, seriously. ME - Hey Davey Crocket, thank you for being the wind beneath my wings. What kind of protests did you attend for the Indians? I thought that we gave them free alcohol and made sure that they stayed on their resorts? What do they have to protest about?? Drinks and resorts on my tax dollar?? We won the war on the Indians like we won the war on drugs and the war on terror. America wins every war we play! But the Indians were cool to let us use all the land for malls and used car dealerships. And we created hot dogs and apples. We beat them fair and square. You are one of the chosen few Dave, just like Jesus chose us as his favorite country. We need to get more Walmarts built. New York City has always been a goal of mine and when 2013 cums I will reach my goal. I always win Dave. Always. My ex wife tried to beat me and I won. Can you say pre-nup? When can you come in for an interview? Did you know Nicholas Cage was a fucking Coppola???! ME -David, It looks like my boss really wants you to come in for the interview!

David - Sorry I didn’t reply earlier your email was interesting and deserved an equal reply, and haven’t had the time. But that aside I can come in tomorrow.

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ME - Okay perfect! My boss is very picky so I want to really prepare you for this. What do you plan on wearing to the interview? Are you out partying tonight? I don’t want you to be hung over. Muff blast then mouth dive, ya know? You watch Game of Thrones?

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Dude. I hear you and they wonder why all the jobs are going to China! Finger my mouth with Ryan Gosling’s swollen schmeckle... The fuckin home of the brave brah. Beer pong and salesmen! David - I’m not sure depends is it casual, business casual, or business attire? Its rare for me to get hung over so no worries. Muff diving is fun. I don’t watch game of thrones I asked a friend if I would like it (he has a decent gauge on what I like and hate) and he said I wouldn’t.

ME- Okay, so my boss said she cannot meet today because she got nose banged by an eight-ball last night. NSFW But she said you sound like a really interesting person. I put in a good word, so you owe me... Big time. Yeah, Game of Thrones is super gay in the butt. Black Men 3 with The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Tom Jones just came out. Looks really cool. Have your student loans filled with blood and tried to sneak into your pink starfish yet?? Fannie Mae pummels poop tubes! Dress cracker casual. My boss looks like Ann Coulter mixed with Tyra Banks. She is very easygoing, so just be yourself and bathe her in compliment splooge. Are you available Monday or Tuesday? I’m really looking forward to meeting you. David - That’s an awesome and understandable reason to reschedule an interview. I’m glad game of thrones was confirmed to be not good, I almost started to feel like I was missing out. Black men 3 really does look cool. I appreciate the heads up with ur boss, the combination of ann and tyra doesn’t sound bad at all. It should be easy to bust those compliments all over her. Maybe once I’m on the team we can dp with compliments lol. Let me know if today or tomorrow either way I’m available for an interview.

ME - DP is not funny. My boss has had bad experiences with that.... Do not bring it up at the interview. Are you around today yuck mouth? Just a FYI, my boss interviewed some kid this morning and he started complaining. Talking about his student loans and no healthcare, whiny shit. My boss snapped on him. I was like,“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?? You’re a Caucasian Non-Hispanic - the worst thing that could happen to you in your life is herpes! That will be the most traumatic thing you’ll witness. There’s some little kid in a country that no one cares about witnessing an ethnic cleansing as we speak and you’re crying about the money you borrowed to party for four years!?” You dick lick. David - Yeah I’m still pretty available, no worries I wouldn’t even suggest dp at an interview lol. I’m glad she snapped at him I hate when people try to guilt/ pity someone into anything. It’s funny what u say about the worst thing being herpes cuz it’s true. That being said im a born and raised new yorker but of colombian background, so obviously no offense but idk if that would jeopardize anything. Im well aware we all have our own personal dislikes. But in any case, what’s the plan today or tomorrow?

ME- Cool- I didn’t think you were that much of a dumb asshole to discuss DP. But you never know. Do not trust anyone in this life David. Best advice I’ve ever got. It’s kill or be killed. Colombians are cool for sure. I asked my boss. She wants our team of protesters to be ethnically diverse. It looks better in the media coverage. The liberals love that shit. And Colombians grow the best cocaine! hahahahaha LMFAO. Coke, meth, hot dogs, HPV and Television. God bless us! You ever watch Glee? David - Thanks for the compliment on my crops, lmao. And please it’s harder to make infants happy in comparison to liberals. Lmao at hpv just because its so random. Nope haven’t seen glee either. I’m more of a spike tv or make me think (memento, the usual suspects, 12 monkeys, seven, etc) kind of guy as cliche as it may seem.

ME - THIS IS WHAT MY BOSS SAID “Do you think you have what it takes to really do your country a service? To insert your protest inside this virgin cause?? WE WANT YOU! Ray Kroc said that a man is worth nothing if he can’t get rich and fill a country with franchises. ARE YOU A MAN? We need you to look the world in the eyes and chant, “U-S-A. U-S-A.” (Our World Wrestling Federation Culture put to use) We need you to put your hand up lady liberty’s dress and whisper in her ear, “I will take you from behind without latex by the dawn’s early light.” It will be like Saving Private Ryan with Matt Afleck, the opening scene, the gunfire and Forest Gump looking up and seeing that our flag was still there. “No child left behind...” David - That’s was the best pep talk I’ve ever had. Yes I am a man and yes I am ready where are we posting up. Walmart is coming to nyc and that’s the bottom line cuz mr. h lee scott said so ME- Freedom shall reign, bargains and spending more than you have for all!! Buy shit you don’t need! I’m going to watch YouTube at work for the rest of the day! Love being on salary.

David - Lol I’ve had jobs that literally pay me to sit on my car, it’s awesome. What’s going on with the interview I’m guessing tomorrow? ME – Dude. I hear you. And they wonder why all the jobs are going to China! Finger my mouth with Ryan Gosling’s swollen schmeckle... The fuckin’ home of the brave brah. Beer pong and salesmen! LEVELEDMAG.COM

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prank of the month to weaken the enemy by leonard charmichael

ou know what? I’m a man. I’m an American man. I work hard and I play harder. I want to come home and eat my cheeseburger and drink my Schlitz. There are not many things that grind my gears if you stay out of my business. Today I’m going to tell you how to ruin the week of the cocky neighbors that make their business your business. You know who they are; they’re the families with the perfectly landscaped yard. They bring in the landscaping crew that comes every week to tidy up. Their hedges are perfectly trimmed. Their bushes are all in a row. Hell, even the grass is cut so you can

see those lines like a damn baseball field. Well I’m fed up. I have a push-mower and I cut my grass like every hardworking man should. I’ll be damned if Dick and Bonnie from next door are going to show me up like I’m some hack when it comes to yard maintenance. I work hard and I play harder, I said it once and I’ll say it again. I don’t have time to be a gardener too. I got sick of looking at that yard, so every Tuesday I take off of work and I spend the entire day getting even with it. When I’m done I feel better and I cook a cheeseburger to celebrate. I know you’re fed up too. Follow the steps below and you too can get even with the Dr. Green-thumb on your street.

Step 1: Get an early start. I like to wake up at 4:30am to mentally prepare myself for the attack. You want to be in a good place when you go to war. You need a clear head and strong initiative. First thing I do is some calisthenics, really get the blood flowing. Then I meditate, for three hours. In meditation I envision my goal. I also envision a list of things I need to accomplish my goal. I snap out of meditation at exactly 8:00am. I immediately locate a pen, (I keep a pen behind my ear 24 hours a day) and I write the list I envisioned. You should do the same. Your list will look something like this: Things Needed For Revenge One bag of party balloons One container of salt Access to a running water source (Once you’ve acquired everything on this list move on to Step. 2) Step 2: I like to organize the items I have by order of importance. In this case they’re all equally important so the order varies every time.

Step 8: Load up your vehicle about an hour before the attack so when the sun sets you can walk out the door and into the battle.

Step 3: I like to eat a strong meal. Malnourishment can cause brash illogical decision making. Make sure you’ve eaten a real substantial meal before you go through with the rest of this.

Step 9: Eat your dinner. They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. On Tuesdays I don’t eat breakfast because dinner is the most important meal. Dinner is the last meal you have before you go into battle; it gives you the energy to give it your all. On Tuesdays I work hard…..and I work harder. Playtime is for Wednesdays.

Step 4: Now what you’ll want to do is connect those balloons to that water source and fill them about halfway. You then want to stick a funnel into the ends of the balloons. Pour the salt into the funnel so it goes inside the balloon. Once you’ve done this, fill the balloons up the remainder of the way with your water source. Step 5: Tie a knot at the end of the balloon. Step 6: Repeat steps 3-5 until you have about 12 balloons. (I use about 27 balloons for maximum results) Disclaimer: I know some of you are thinking, “What if the authorities see all these balloons? Aren’t they going to get suspicious?” Well, yes and no. I’ve had the sheriff down here because my neighbor said I was leaving my dog in the sun too long and he saw the balloons. He said, “Boy, why you got all those water balloons out here?” I just said, “I throw them at the raccoons.” He shook his head and left me alone. Remember he doesn’t need to know that there is salt in them. Step 7: Procure a slingshot. I love my slingshot; I’ve had it since I was a boy. I suggest you go out and get the same because you want to really be able to launch these suckers.

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Step 10: Attack. You want to pull up quietly to your target’s residence. Pull out that slingshot and start heaving those salt-filled water bombs right onto the greenest parts of their grass. I love this. When done right it can really be fun and give you a strong sense of purpose. I laugh and enjoy the attack. Step 11: Wake up and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Take a stroll down the road and peak at your victim’s perfectly arranged grass. Not so perfect anymore is it? The salt water kills the grass. It creates giant polka dots all over the victim’s lawn. Ugly yellow patches of dead grass. All your victim can do is plant new grass. Grass takes years to grow!!!! HAHAHAHAHA. Laugh for about an hour and a half and then celebrate with a cheeseburger.

*BONUS TIP: This revenge is also great to use at your rival sports team’s stadium or as a big F U to an ex-girlfriend.

A How-to guide

to Advance your position by ray adornetto

how to get elected into political office in the united states of america. /P NBUUFS XIBU TJEF PG UIF QPMJUJDBM CVLBLLF QBSUZ UIBU ZPV SF PO * UIJOL UIBU XF DBO BMM BHSFF PO UIF MBDL PG RVBMJUZ DBOEJEBUFT UP DIPPTF GSPN * GFFM MJLF TNBSU QFPQMF HP JOUP Ä&#x2022;OBODF PS TUBSU TPDJBM OFUXPSLT PS TPÄ&#x2122;XBSF DPNQBOJFT UIFZ EPO U SVO GPS GVDLJOH PÄ?DF .BZCF JU T BMXBZT CFFO UIJT XBZ * N OPU TVSF .BZCF JO "NFSJDB T GPSNBUJWF ZFBST TIF EFNBOEFE B IJHIFS QFEJHSFF PG GPMLT UP DVN JOTJEF IFS PWBM PÄ?DF BOE UXP IPVTFT 5PEBZ QPMJUJDT JO UIJT DPVOUSZ BSF MJLF B QSPEVDUJPO PG TPNF DIJDL USZJOH UP CSFBL UIF SFDPSE GPS UIF CJHHFTU HBOHCBOH * QJDUVSF B MJOF PG TXFBUZ NFO EPXO UIF CMPDL QMBZJOH XJUI UIFNTFMWFT USZJOH UP HFU TPNF CMPPE Ä&#x2DC;PX UP UIFJS MJNQ DPDLT TP UIFZ DBO HFU * UIFJS TIPU BU GVDLJOH UIF "NFSJDBO QFPQMF Ä&#x2021;BU T IPX * WJFX QPMJUJDJBOT BDUPST JO B TMPQQZ MPX CVEHFU HBOHCBOH * QJDUVSF NZ QPPS MJUUMF DPVOUSZ JO UIF NJEEMF PG UIJT NFTT Ä&#x2022;MMFE XJUI IBMG IBSE QFOJTFT PG NFO XIP EPO U LOPX IFS OBNF 4IF T HBHHJOH USZJOH UP DBUDI IFS CSFBUI MPPLJOH BU UIF DBNFSB BOE QSFUFOEJOH UIBU TIF T FOKPZJOH JU *U T OPU 1( TIJU NZ GSJFOETy 4P NZ QPJOU JT UIBU JU EPFTO U UBLF NVDI UP HFU FMFDUFE GPS QPMJUJDBM PÄ?DF JO "NFSJDB Ä&#x2021;F TUBOEBSET BSF MPX ZPV EPO U EP TIJU BOE UIF QBZ JTO U CBE "OE JG ZPV DBO HFU JO CFE XJUI UIF MPCCZJTUT UIFO XF SF UBMLJOH BCPVU EPQF NPOFZ OVNCFST *U T B HPPE IVTUMF BOE * MM TIPX ZPV IPX UP EP JU 1) Pick a party. Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a whole fucking two to choose from, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not hard. 2) People think God is Americaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s biggest fan. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know if God has ever even been to America, but who cares. Go there. Any good baby-kisser knows the value of that God word. 3) Study WWE and even UFC. We live in what I call, â&#x20AC;&#x153;The World Wrestling Federation Culture.â&#x20AC;? Create enemies and villains. Good politicians know how to get large crowds of white trash to chant USA and hold up signs that say stupid things. A good politician is like a good wrestler. 4) Target that first time voter. Play on that un-raped idealism. A good campaign is emotional pornography. Find key words like hope and change, and bang them dry. 5) Fear. This is the filet mignon of the campaign cow. USE IT. Your constituents are scared, and you can fuck a nun if you work the fear angle. 6) The American Family. Talk about preserving the American family. Beat this dead fucking horse bloody. The American family, standing naked in front of us with all its purity, values and virtuesâ&#x20AC;Ś While weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re on the family topic, is there a reason why the suicide rates sky rocket around the holidays? Oh, and one in four U.S. marriages end in divorce. We have the highest divorce rate in the world. Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t mention that to your voters though. 7) Kids. People love when you talk about their kids. Talk about the children, educating them, feeding them, whatever. The children. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just one of those catch phrases that any good office seeker has in their arsenal. 8) Speaking of catch phrases, my favorite is â&#x20AC;&#x153;middle class.â&#x20AC;? Constantly express your concern for preserving and saving the middle class. Even when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re at a loss for words just say â&#x20AC;&#x153;middle class.â&#x20AC;? Throw the word â&#x20AC;&#x153;jobsâ&#x20AC;? into that shit and youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re getting some groupie head after the show.

You have what it takes. Now go get in line for that group coitus party! LEVELEDMAG.COM

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PHOTOGRAPHED BY BEN MILLER. MAKEUP CRYSTAL TRAN. STYLIST STEPHANIE POWERS.

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CLOTHING TOVAR CLOTHING & STREETS OF BEVERLY HILLS.

SPORTS COAT, HAT & HANDKERCHIEF BY STREETS OF BEVERLY HILLS

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get asked a lot if I am worried that my movie God Bless America will inspire copycats. I hope people are inspired by the movie because it's a violent movie about kindness. If people were a little more kind after watching this movie, I'd be happy. If you could take rational people and turn them into killers by showing them movies, the military would be in the business of producing movies. If we're going to

start banning violent works of fiction because we're afraid of how they may influence people, we should start with the Bible. -Bobcat Goldthwait

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real talk: joel murray What’s the biggest misconception about show business? The biggest misconception is, “it’s not what you know it’s who you know,” because I know a lot of people. I’ve got brothers that are very successful. I know a lot of people in the business. That doesn’t mean a lot because there are people that don’t know anybody, who are complete jerks that continue to work. But you might know a lot of people, be a nice guy, and show up on time, and that’s not necessarily how it works for some reason. What T.V. show best describes your childhood? I guess All in the Family because I grew up in a family of nine. Much of my childhood took place with the eleven people that I lived with. I shared a room with two other people. Much of my youth was working on my interpersonal skills within my own clan. We didn’t have Archie, but my mother was a little bit of Edith Bunker. If you could play any American president who would it be? It’s probably a boring story, but I would go for Gerald Ford. Look wise, I think I could play Ford. I grew up as a football player. I didn’t play 038

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center, I was a fullback, but that’s just as intelligent of a spot. He’s a Michigan guy, seems like he has the same sensibilities. I’ll go with Ford. Who’s your favorite band? In high school and college I got in with a lot of “Dead-heads.” I’ve seen twenty-five shows. There was nothing like it. I’ll have to go with the Dead. What was your biggest fear growing up? Because my mom was a widow and my dad left her with nine kids, it was disappointing her or ticking her off. I didn’t often get punished, but just her giving me the silent treatment was one of the more painful things in my life. Disappointing her was my fear. What advice would you give to the youth of America? Nobody owes you anything. You’ve got to do a lot of things in this life for free before people should really have to pay you for anything. And if you want to get into the arts, you have to work at it and you have to give it away a lot before any checks start rolling in.

real talk: tara lynne barr What’s the key to good acting? Being truthful. As actors, our job is to help tell the story, and we absolutely have to be truthful to our characters and their given situations to achieve that. Good writing helps too. Where are you from? I hail all the way from Orange County, California. My family and I are part of the dwindling liberal minority. Help. What real life person would you most want to play? I would love to play a musician of some kind. Playing a female rocker would kick so much ass. Someone like Janis Joplin would be so exhausting and incredible to play. Too bad Amy Adams beat me to it, dammit. What’s the worst thing that you’ve ever done? The worst thing I've ever done is too raunchy/ hilarious/illegal to mention in this interview. What would your reality television show be about? My reality television show would follow my life as an actor trying to balance a career, college, and my personal life. With some housewives and a couple interventions thrown in to spice it up a bit. What American president would you want to party with the most? Andrew Jackson. He wasn't the nicest guy (organized the Trail of Tears), but he sure knew how to throw a party. His cabinet members' wives didn't like their husbands hanging out with him because he was a bad influence. Truth! Who do you think came up with term home of the brave? Francis Scott Key. He probably wasn't so brave though. Brave people are too busy being brave to write pretty poems, right?

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JACKET BY TOVAR

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America the Beautiful, Land of the... Free?

My Life Waiting [Tables]

by ali baker

f you took high school English (or paid attention at all) then you probably read at least one book centering on the idea of the "American Dream." It's timely to mention that my first brush with thematic assessments of the American dream centered largely around Gatsby's idea of the American dream – or rather the notion of the American dream's slow and festering demise. Work hard and riches will follow, right? The land of the beautiful, the land of the free, the land of the here and now, will uphold its patriotic promises to reward those hardworking, ball-busting Americans with all that they deserve. If the tragic implosion of Gatsby and Daisy's world taught us anything, it's that the American dream is exactly what it is, a dream rather than a reality. Case in point, waiting tables. Ironically my first taste of the big bucks in the serving world came on the Fourth of July. It was the first Fourth that I spent working, and as someone who grew up at the beach in a tourist town, missing the Fourth of July is both a right of passage and a serious buzz kill. Nonetheless, I made $400 in four hours. Had I found the American dream? If you're like me, you grew up being told that if you worked hard and graduated college, your dream job would follow. A master’s degree later I'm still slinging beers and showing grown men the best way to eat a Maryland blue crab. I wrote a thesis on visual rhetoric in the composition classroom and yet I have (on more than one occasion) had to explain to a customer that yes, fries on the side does mean that you will get fries with your meal. Um, American dream? In a given work day I'm on my feet for 10 to 12 hours, I get harassed at least twice by the Mexicans in the kitchen, I have at least four customers talk down to me, forcing me to not only swallow, but choke on my

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ever-shrinking pride. I consistently receive a range of tips from 0 to 20 percent, I often watch my boss of nearly two years struggle to remember my name, and I always walk out smelling distinctively of seafood, and not in a good way. Not to toot my own proverbial horn, but I work hard. For the most part I make good money, so what am I bitching about? Isn't this the American dream? Work hard so you can play hard? So why am I feeling like the American dream died with Jay Gatsby? The answer is simple. In the restaurant world, your hard work doesn't always pay off. I can run around like a chicken with my head cut off through the entire dinner rush and still walk away with significantly more or less money than the night before. It's a crapshoot, but it’s American. Europeans take a different approach to serving by forgoing the gratuity system. They get paid a set amount and as a result, the service sucks. The other result? Europeans come to America and pretend not to know that servers here survive on tips. Perhaps next time I'll stop them on the way out to remind them that they are in America, and while it’s the land of the free, that doesn't mean my service comes for free. I'm living the American dream dammit... now pay up! Tip of the Day: Sometimes the American Dream isn't what it seems. Just look at poor Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman. Does that mean we all have to drive our car into a tree because sales are down? No. Because for every table that rips you off and makes you want to rip your hair out, there's another to follow that will tip you well and actually thank you for your service. If all else fails, karma is a good friend of the server, and in America, we don't get mad... we get even.

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Henry Rollins

What does being an American mean to you? Standing up for and abiding by the Constitution as best I can. Define the American dream. That a man or a woman in America can work hard, be decent, and get somewhere. What is one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? Racism. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? I would hope that every person in their native country would say that they did. Can your country be great and yet be nowhere near the top of the list for national literacy? Can your country be great when it invades and occupies sovereign countries? It can possibly be considered great when compared to a place that stones people to death, but perhaps loses a little traction when said country has a death penalty. It can possibly be considered great when it stands for Democracy, but loses some speed when it sells itself off to a communist country like, say, China. Overweight, stupid and high: can that be considered greatness? Does a great country drop hundreds of millions of tons of napalm and Tetrachlorodibenzodioxin on a nation of farmers? What makes a country “the greatest”? What would America’s grave say on it? There will be no grave because America will never die. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Poorly served by their media and government. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Very good because there are a lot of people like me in it. What does patriotism mean to you? It means Sarah Palin. She calls tea party activists “rowdy patriots”, so it’s a term I want nothing to do with. I guess it means you call president Obama a nigger. I guess it means you talk about the Constitution but don’t read it, or talk about how much you love America but dodge the draft, like Ted Nugent or Dick Cheney. I can’t put myself in the same starting lineup with cowards. I consider myself a citizen of the Republic of the United States of America. Patriotism at this point belongs to people who hate homosexuals and use the bible to justify their hatred. So you can take your patriotism and show up at the next Obama rally with a gun and a sign with misspelled words, but keep it away from me. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? The same advice I gave myself and acted upon when I was young and I saw what Reagan was doing to America: America is a killing field you pass or fail in. You must make plans. Plans B, C, D, E, F, etc. The America will not be there for you when you need it. You are on your own in the America. Freedom is cold and you will live and die on your own. There will be no Social Security. Law enforcement kills citizens. Law enforcement cannot be counted on for protection. You must carry your own weight in the America. The America is not a country. It is an idea. A great idea that many people don’t have the strength to carry. You must be a rugged individualist because you will encounter many who think they are but they lack the strength, courage, tenacity, stamina and intelligence to actually be a rugged individual. They will take out their weakness on you. They will attempt to victimize you with their weakness because they are in fact, not rugged and not individuals. They drink alcohol, smoke tobacco and eat bad food. They take bad care of their bodies and then go to the emergency room when they break down and make me pay for it when my health insurance rates go through the roof. They hate people of different ethnicities and sexual orientations. They have bought into the petty traps thrown down by the powered elite to keep them distracted and toiling away in their own filth. It is sad that I am right about everything I have just said. It is sad that the ancestors of those who fought so bravely to establish the America were so easily overtaken and enslaved, how willfully they put the shackles on and how resistant they are to remove them. Lean the fuck up, stay hard and train to go long. This is what I figured out at age twenty-three.

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musician

Honus Honus of Man Man

PHOTO BY ANDREW PARKS

What does being an American mean to you? I don’t feel like I could do what I do if I wasn’t American. Define the American dream. The fact that you can have an American Pie movie made ten years after the first one and people will still go see it. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? I feel like if I lived in a country that had fewer preservatives I’d probably weigh about ten pounds less. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? Sure. I’m afraid if I say something otherwise the SWAT team will show up. What would America’s grave say on it? Was just a bed. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? The thing about America is that it’s so big that even when the country decides to swallow the shotgun shell the body is going to keep living forever. It’s going to be real weird in a hundred years in the middle of this country. Swamp people but on a greater scale. What’s going to be left? It’s going to be overpopulated with religious nuts and probably people that aren’t that bright. It’ll be a real epic battle. It’ll be a Walmart. What song comes to mind when you think of American music? Something Bob Seger related. Bob Seger but also the smell of hot dogs cooking on an engine block… while my twenty kids are in the back of the truck.

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Kathy Griffin comedian

What does being an American mean to you? It means I’m free to say anything I want…and make fun of whomever I want, from Elizabeth Hasselbeck on The View to my friend Anderson Cooper. Define the American dream. I’m just a flame-haired Ginger from Oak Park, Illinois, and look at me now. I play casinos all around the country. Oh, and I have my own talk show. That’s the American dream, damn it. What is one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? The power of free speech and the funny people who use it. They don’t have a Joan Rivers in Saudi Arabia. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? By all means. No contest. Nice try, Belgium. What would America’s grave say on it? We ate way too many French fries. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Too many of us don’t believe in gay rights. Let’s fix that. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Hopefully there will be no more Kardashians on television. But I think it will take that long to get there. What does patriotism mean to you? Our armed forces do amazing things for this country. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I’ve seen it on my many U.S.O. tours. That’s patriotism. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Don’t worry too much, and when your high school boyfriend turns out to be gay, don’t get upset. You guys will be friends later on in life and laugh about it.

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doug stanhope comedian

What does being an American mean to you? To quote myself, “It's no different than being an Aires or an uncle. It's something that you are called due to circumstances out of your doing. I'm no more American than I would be Chinese if they took over this country. I'm just some dude.” Define the American dream. I've never known what that means, though it's usually used in the context of material gain or achieved status. But it's probably just the dream where you show up at work without your pants on. What is one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? The ever-increasing birth rate of suckers born per minute. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? No more than I'd say my girl was the best piece of ass in the world if she were the only one I'd ever pooned. I've visited others, and just on quality of life and the options open to you here, it’s pretty fucking good. What would America’s grave say on it? I Came, I Saw, I Cankered. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? 300-plus million ballooned individuals all staring at a Golden Corral buffet, with the rest of the world pressing their anguished faces against the window. At least that is what came to mind this time. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Really fucking crowded. What does patriotism mean to you?    The same thing "listener" means to Rush Limbaugh. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? I wouldn't. I know I'd be too stupid to listen. Plus, I wouldn’t wanna kill the younger me's buzz by showing what it’s gonna look like down the road.

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Greg Fitzsimmons

*These questions have been answered by my eight-year-old, Josephine, and my eleven-year-old ,Owen. What does being an American mean to you? Josephine: Being hip, very modern; new and unique. Owen: To be a little isolated from the rest of the world. Like we are an infant and the rest of the world is old people. Define the American dream. Josephine: Nothing. I don’t know what that means. Big question mark. Owen: For most people it is a pack of Bud Light. For most people it’s having beach parties all over the coast and being successful and rich. Josephine: People are different but some like to get up every morning very early and do what they love like word hard. Some like to sleep in and just get McDonald’s every day and get fat. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? Josephine: Nothing has really happened. Nothing that big has happened to me yet. I’m still young. Since I’m around Latinos a lot now I can speak Spanish and now I can speak to other people. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? Josephine: Yes. It’s very sunny here so you get a lot of chances to go to a pool or the beach. We have a lot of funny people and we are very accomplishing. Owen: We’re doing very good financially. We’re not poor like other countries. Everyone else isn’t as up to date as us. What would America’s grave say on it? Josephine: Award winning, best country in the world. Served its country well.

Owen: A patriotic, giving and very kind country. Gave people a second chance. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Owen: Fat men with their shirts off. A fat guy wearing a cheesy Hawaiian shirt. We don’t have as much high class as the other countries. Josephine: McDonald’s. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Owen: Probably more weight loss. No cancer. I don’t know if there will still be a president. Maybe there will be a Master Lord. Josephine: People won’t know the definition of the words we used. They will just teleport places or take trains. All the things like ancient tombs will be gone and fallen to dust. The Eiffel Tower will have a twin. What does patriotism mean to you? Owen: It’s a soldier doing whatever for your country. Josephine: Loving where you are means loving who you are. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Josephine: I don’t know yet because I haven’t built a life. Work hard to get what you like but it will be easy because this is such a supportive country. Owen: *(Had no advice because he had already left the room saying he was bored).

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Steven hirsch founder and co-chairman of vivid entertainment

What does being an American mean to you? The ability to make choices and to take responsibility for the choices I make. Define the American dream. The chance that no matter from where you start, you can be successful. All it takes is a good idea and a lot of hard work. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? The fact that a guy from Cleveland can start with virtually nothing and have an amazing life. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? There is no place like America. No place. What would America’s grave say on it? There’s no place like home. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Hardworking, compassionate people. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? I don’t know but I would sure like to stick around and find out. What does patriotism mean to you? The joy that comes from watching your country be the absolute best it can be. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Work hard. Stay focused. Never give up.

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Jack Abramoff

former lobbyist “casino jack”

What does being an American mean to you? It means having been blessed to be born in the greatest nation of modern times and enjoy the freedom and opportunity unparalleled in history. Define the American dream. To be free of tyrannical control by government so as to be able to pursue economic, social, political and religious opportunity in accordance with my choices and desires. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? That America combines the greatest compassion with the greatest achievement, and that our society has always encouraged individual accomplishment and celebrated it. I hope this is not changing, though i fear the envy-laden illness of Europe is creeping into our culture. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? Yes. What would America’s grave say on it? Nothing, since there will not be a grave for this great nation. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? A diverse amalgam of those who have striven to better their lives, or the descendants of those who have done so. A people wanting to do well and to do good, who have proven time and again that they are willing to sacrifice their all for their fellow human beings. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? It depends if America descends into European and third world mediocrity or if it becomes reinvigorated in its exceptionalism. What does patriotism mean to you? A love of our nation and the things which made our nation great. A fealty to our country when it holds true to the vision of our founders. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Go slow – you’re in a marathon not a sprint.

James Maleszka

a father & a patriot

What does being an American mean to you? Freedom. Individual Freedom. I can be who I want to be. Define the American dream. It’s not what people always think it means. Doesn’t mean that everyone automatically gets a big house. It does mean that you will have every opportunity to control your own destiny. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? The choices we have. It’s history. It’s great history. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? Yes. Hands Down.

What would America’s grave say on it? She’ll never die. I believe that. No grave. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Ignorant. Too patient. Gullible. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? That’s unclear – it’s under a lot of scrutiny these days with the upcoming election. It’s up to the American people now to make sure we go in the right direction – could go either way. What does patriotism mean to you? Pride – taking pride in the history of this country. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? There’s nothing for free and don’t take things for granted. LEVELEDMAG.COM LEVELEDMAG.COM

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Nate Fish

poet, model, baseball coach

What does being an American mean to you? Not to sound like an ass, but to me it just means having been born in the United States of America. Define the American dream. No such thing. I think human beings generally want to improve their lot. Americans have somehow claimed that sentiment as being uniquely ours. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? When and where I grew up had a huge effect on me and I take a lot of pride in both. I was born in 1980 and grew up primarily in Cleveland, Ohio. People born in or around '80 in some ways are the last "real" people in that we are mostly similar to all the people who came before us, because we were the last generation of people to grow up without the internet and all the technology that came along with it, and because we were last people to live in the 20th century which is significant if we're talking about what is American and what is Human and what is Important. And Cleveland is a great forgotten American city. We were mostly free. Cleveland in the ‘90s was pretty awesome. If you take a look, there are lots of artists that came out of Ohio in that era which is a pretty good indication that there was something special about that time and place.

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Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? No. No country is great. All countries are inherently flawed. What would America’s grave say on it? The 1900s. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Nothing. There is no such thing as a typical American. It's undermining to think there is. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Almost exactly the same as it is now. People often want to be dramatic and make it sound like this is the end because is makes them feel important. But barring an asteroid or Yellowstone erupting we are at the beginning of human history. What does patriotism mean to you? There is something natural and loving about taking pride in where you're from, but "patriotism", in a word... insanity. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Those ideas you have about people not knowing what the hell they’re talking about and not valuing the right things are exactly right. Build a new world for yourself to live in and then live in it. And never give up.

Sarah Ann Loreth photographer

What does being an American mean to you? “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door." To me being an American means rebirth. It means being able to change. I have such a sense of freedom living here. It feels like I have the ability to be anyone I want, whenever I want. I have the ability to change and create myself into any dream I may have. To let go. To start over. Define the American dream. I believe that with a little luck and a whole lot of work anyone can make something of themselves. It's the land of opportunity, you just need to be willing to put in the effort to be somebody. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? Living in America has taught me independence. It has taught me the freedom of opinion and expression and art. I'm unafraid to express exactly what I am feeling through my work be it strange or gross. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? I would say one of the greatest. I don't have experience as I have not visited other countries, but from my experience here I am glad to be born in a country that allows free expression. What would America’s grave say on it? Work hard, make it big, or die trying. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? I think of hope. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? I hope it will be as green as in my dreams. I hope the forests will stay forests and the deserts will stay deserts and we have become a more unified society. What does patriotism mean to you? To me, patriotism means having faith in the goodness of your fellow Americans. Believing that goodness will prevail with the bond that connects us all. Patriotism to me means helping each other in times of need and devastation. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? I would tell myself to always look towards the prize and work as hard as I can to get it. I would say to grasp every moment before it passes, to take every opportunity because you never know where it might lead you. I would say to travel and see all the beauty America has to offer. LEVELEDMAG.COM

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musician

Zack Hampton of Fire In The Hamptons

What does being an American mean to you? I feel lucky.

Define the American dream. Jet skis. I've always felt like if you can afford the luxury of owning two or more Sea-Doos then you are officially living the American dream. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? That I'm allowed to wake up and do what I love everyday. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? Not exactly. America is like that hardworking family that fought for every bit of what it has. Then it had some kids and started buying them BMWs and going away for long periods of time and let the nanny raise them. What would America’s grave say on it? I could have fucked your face if I wanted to, but I probably had better shit to do. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? Eclectic mixture of wandering minds. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? Fuckin’ sick... According to the documentary Prometheus we're going to be in space a bunch, scoopin’ up black goo that makes aliens burst out of your face. What does patriotism mean to you? It's like having your drunk friend’s back in a bar fight, even though he kind of started it. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Aim for the stars and keep swinging till your last breath.

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Justin Willman

comedian

What does being an American mean to you? It means that whenever I’m in Europe I have to pretend to be Canadian. Define the American dream. To me the American dream, is the ability to set a goal and then achieve it through nothing but sheer work and determination. I know it sounds corny, but I really believe it. I’ve heard it helps if your parents are rich too. What’s one thing about life in this country that has had a significant effect on you, or has shaped you as an individual? There are two things: Johnny Carson and Steve Martin. I believe those two are authentic American artists who couldn’t have thrived anywhere else. If for no other reason, I’m lucky to have been born in the same country as them, so I could grow up worshiping their work from an early age. Would you say that we live in the greatest country in the world? That’s a bit of a blanket statement. I haven’t lived in every single county in the world, so I can’t say that. But I’ve visited a lot of them and so far no one’s ever come close. Canada did once, but they’re too polite, it’s annoying. What would America’s grave say on it? Follow me on Twitter. What comes to mind when you think of the American people? A mixture of things. The American people are responsible for some of the greatest contributions to the human race, things like our Constitution, the Civil Rights movement, invention of the airplane and the Big Mac. But we’ve also contributed greatly to the downfall of Western society as well with things like the nuclear bomb, Kim Kardashian and the Big Mac. I guess we’re about even now. What will life in this country be like in a hundred years? I have no idea, but Siri will be president. What does patriotism mean to you? I think the people who founded this country wanted it to stand for something other than waiving the flag and screaming we’re number one. They were bound by a common idea, not a common place of birth. Sometimes people think that all patriotism is, is being born in a certain place. To me it’s about embracing the ideas that made this nation possible. It also means that a lot of people in the South wear shirts made out of flags. What advice would you give to a younger you about building a life in America? Save the money you made before 2009, you’re going to need it!

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www.denmbar.com

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069

he Georgia clay is burnt orange, almost red, under my sandaled feet and the air smells like wood and dust. Clean, dry wood though. The kind that looks white with the knots sanded down. They’re erecting new cabins for the summer camp I’ve attended for over a decade -- bigger ones on the other side of camp, knocking out patches of trees to build looming green bunk bedded homes for tweenagers in the throes of pimples and crushes. The smell of the cut wood tickles the inside of my nose with scent, but also actual shreds of chips and thick beige particles. It’s a smell that makes me think “camp” or I guess, “temporary home.” Have you ever been driving and looked to each side and seen the mountains your car is cutting through and been totally overwhelmed? Looked up? Seen a lone house nestled in between the forest branches? Thought about who lives there? They must love the isolation, the coziness, the quiet. Even if I can’t remember exactly where everything at the camp was, (and I can so far, but maybe when I’m old I will forget) I would be drawn back to Georgia by smell alone. Sense memory. Southern summers are always sweltering, but outside, people (poorer people, locals, “hicks,” I later realize) work to build homes for privileged children, which is a strange and sad reversal -- to build one of my many homes. grew up in Florida, in a house with a red roof on Fillmore Street in a neighborhood outside Ft. Lauderdale called “The Presidential Circle” because all the streets were named for US presidents. Millard Fillmore Street was as unassuming as the president it was named for. The house on Fillmore wasn’t necessarily a nice house. It was too small until my parents knocked out the garage and built a new master bedroom. For a while, my grandmother occupied the larger “side” bedroom. My sister was in the middle and I was on the other end, closer to the backyard. I loved the “red house.” It felt lived-in with the worn wall paper and scuffed tile and spilled-on carpets. The backyard was the part of the house that really made it. Like even the poorest of South Florida families, we had an in-ground swimming pool. There was a gazebo, a swing set that my parents had surprised me with as a birthday present when I was in kindergarten and that glimmering, blue pool. Sometimes the drain would get clogged with leaves and my dad would throw on a University of Florida visor, black Adidas sandals and blue and orange short shorts and skim the water manually with a net. My dad did love being outside. He’d often put on The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds and cut down wayward branches or gather mangos, avocados, grapefruit and bananas. Sometimes he jumped in the pool with us at the end of his chores, and my sister and I always reacted like a couple of ‘60s teenyboppers at a Beatles concert. Dad in the pool was awesome chaos. He’d dive way under the water and come up from under us, balancing our squealing bodies on his shoulders, or toss us from the shallow end into the deep end or cannonball in and leave us soaked by his splash. The pool also often had some creepy-crawly visitors. There were constantly swarms of cockroaches getting stuck on the sides. Whenever he spotted one, my dad would pick it up, dangling it by its scrawny, kicking legs and then, as far as my sister and I were concerned, drop it down his throat. “Mmmm, delicious,” he’d say, rubbing his hairy belly. My sister and I would flip out. “NOOO!” We’d yell, “Don’t eat the cockroaches, Daddy. That’s gross!” My dad would laugh, treading water out of our reach. “It’s okay, girls,” he’d joke. “All boys eat cockroaches.” y sister is now 20 years old and still lives in Florida -- in Tallahassee. One of her Facebook pictures is her, blond hair

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HOME by Gaby Dunn streaming down her shoulders, tan skin, white shirt, cut off blue jean shorts, Ugg boots, twinkling tiara nestled on the crown of her head, silver Coors Light can in her hand. “T@ll@na$tyyy,” her friends write beside it. We were close as kids; went through a rough period and then became close again when I went to college. When she came to visit me in New York City in April, I hadn’t seen her in about a year. She looked good, like the sun itself -- golden and brown. She dresses too provocatively for my tastes, but feminism is “all about choices” I tell myself when her nipple threatens to burst through the top of her tank top. In high school, I did not have a lot of friends outside of the superhero message boards I frequented, but she’d lost multiple sparkly high heels on yachts in South Beach. My sister’s Florida is very different from mine. ’m in the middle seat of the Toyota Corolla even though I always get car sick and we’re driving through the Ninth Ward in New Orleans for the second time in the past couple of years. After college, my best friend Kim, a lanky girl with stick-straight chocolate hair, moved here to teach special education in a rapidly deteriorating -both physically and spiritually -- high school. On my first visit, we drove through the devastation handing out water bottles to the workers, part of Brad Pitt’s Make It Right program there to rebuild houses in the area. We wanted to help and also to experience for ourselves how an entire city came to be destroyed and left to rot. We played Lil Wayne out of respect I guess, and stopped to look at the various houses with spray-painted numbers and Xs meant to signify how many were dead inside. Some were just stairs leading up to nowhere or just the wooden, splintering door frames. Some houses were on top of other houses. Some seemed like they were just partially

invisible. There’s a business being run called “The Disaster Tour” where tourists can pay to be taken around the damage in a bus. The New York Times wrote a really amazing article about the surreal nature of taking a “tour” of Katrina, of poverty, of devastation. In the car, we all talk about how exploitive the whole thing is, but we still take time out of our vacation to drive around the Ninth Ward, to show it to our friend who has never been to New Orleans before. The night before we’d drank Hurricanes on Bourbon St., our tongues tell-tale red and our faces drunken red. I’d texted a boy I know who doesn’t like me back. Kim put a dollar in a stripper’s be-jangled underpants. On Frenchman St. that next night, we ate Cajun food and danced to a brass band at a bar called Blue Nile. The Ninth Ward seems like a different place altogether. One of the houses we pass is spray painted with the words: “Home. This Was Home.” I have seen that house twice now -- on both of my unofficial “disaster tours.” It always makes my heart stop. For me, I can stay in the AC of the car. For someone else, this was their home. n Boston, during college, I lived in a duplex with Kim and a boy named Sean. I loved that house, which we nicknamed “The Dime” because the address was 10 Higgins, almost as much as the two people I shared it with. From day one, we committed to never decorating (sans one crude movie poster in the kitchen for an independent horror film called Donkey Punch) because we wanted the house to be a safe place to party; there’d be no broken lamps or smashed framed pictures. The house was cheap, and in a transitional neighborhood most called a “student ghetto.” On the first floor was a living room big enough to create a spacious dance floor and to hold a record player, and both a front and back porch perfect for lawn furniture and entertaining guests. I had a huge bedroom on the second floor next to Kim’s. Sean slept

downstairs in the biggest room, on a tiny twin bed he inherited from his grandmother. Even though Sean and I started dating soon after we all moved in, Kim and I could more often be found sharing one of our two queen-sized ones, wearing each other’s clothing without needing to ask. From the window of the second floor bathroom, we could climb out and sit on the roof where we would drink wine, smoke cigarettes, and look down at the chaos of Brighton Avenue. One time, in a drunken fit, Kim, our friend Ariel, and I threw eggs we’d drawn faces on with a Sharpie down into the shared community parking lot in an effort to voodoo/exorcise a crop of shitty ex-hookups. ’ve moved every year I’ve lived in New York. Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Chinatown, the Upper East Side, Harlem. New roommates, new neighborhoods, new walls. Sometimes I take my furniture, sometimes in a Craigslist fit I’ll sell it all and buy new, cheaper furniture when I get my new apartment. Moving is expensive, but you get better at it with time. New York City felt like home to me before I ever lived here, which is admittedly a twenty-something cliché. My brother moved to Manhattan when he was in his twenties and worked as a stage manager and lighting designer and professional Ramen noodle-eater. When I was fourteen, I visited him and got really drunk in an apartment with “actual gay people” and felt like I had fallen into the show ‘Rent,’ except more amazing because it was real and they were artists and they were young and they were beautiful and the city skyline loomed. For the first few months after I moved from Boston to New York, I’d leave my apartment with my arms flung open like Belle from ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ “Bonjour!” I’d exclaim to the homeless. “Bonjour!” to the droopy commuters. “Bonjour!” to the overworked barista. I was just so happy to be home.

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immigration reform: a conversation with dov charney BY RAY ADORNETTO

or a country founded and built by non-natives, there is a whole lot of anti-immigration talk in America. “Concerned citizens” picket against amnesty while talk-show entertainers, posing as political analysts, rally up the lemmings. Immigration will be one of the most talked-about topics in the upcoming presidential election, with the candidates spewing off anything and

everything about the issue except for solutions. My favorite claim is that the immigrants are taking all the jobs. Do people think that Mexicans who pay a coyote to sneak them across the border are getting hired at Goldman Sachs, or stealing tenure at universities? I don’t think that migrant farmer from Oaxaca is posting a resume on Monster. No, he’s getting paid shit by an American who doesn’t want to pay another American a decent wage. While the constituents worry about the immigrants “taking jobs,” many American corporations are sending every job they can to the Third World to increase their profits. And these same corporations are funding the campaigns of the anti-immigrant politicians. It’s tough to find a large, successful company (let alone a clothing manufacturer) in America that pays fair wages and doesn’t outsource to sweatshops in developing countries. American Apparel is one of the rare exceptions to the norm. I recently sat down with Dov Charney, founder and CEO of American Apparel, to talk shop for our August fashion issue and discuss immigration for this “Home of the Brave” issue. Dov has created one of the most innovative and influential brands in America, all while keeping production in the States and paying his employees a fair wage. He’s built a profitable business without straying from his ideals. I got the impression that Dov aims to prove you can build a successful company that’s grounded in ethical and decent practices and still compete with other top-tier brands. At the core of his beliefs is the idea that every person should be allowed to migrate freely and pursue the “American Dream” unobstructed.

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Ray Adornetto: How would you define freedom?

Dov Charney: Life, liberty, property and the pursuit

of happiness. I should be able to pursue my own happiness. I should be able to build my life and I

should be free at all times. Live free or die. Freedom of mobility is probably one of the most important

freedoms that there are. People have been migrating for millions of years. Blocking migration flows is anti-

human and anti-nature, and therefore it is anti-thelaws-of-nature.

RA: So no restrictions?

DC: I don’t believe in restrictions. I just don’t believe

in borders. I’m Canadian, but I have an American passport too. I’ve never believed in the US or Canadian border. I thought it was a complete invasion of my privacy. As a freethinking person, why do I have to tell

anyone where I am going, what I am doing, or whom I am visiting? I’ve never felt that America is not my own,

and I don’t believe in the separation of Canada and the United States. If you expand that, I don’t believe in any separations. When I entered the US, I didn’t feel

in check. The aristocracy should continuously be put in check. They also provide opportunities for the working class. They are the juice, the lubrication

and the energy that America needs to keep going and in a certain sense we have depended upon them

since our inception. If it weren’t for immigrants, you wouldn’t have the Erie Canal or New York City as you

understand it today. It is a benefit and a privilege to be in a place where immigrants want to come. It’s

important to keep society, culture and economy in balance. We should be inviting the brightest and most intelligent people to this country.

at a very young age my mother told me that santa clause and god do not exist, and that the root of all evil is religion and nationalism. she’s right.

that I was not at home, that I should not be protected,

RA: What should the ultimate goal be?

everyone. It’s all fundamentally the same thing.

scientists, artists and creative thinkers because in

or that the First Amendment didn’t protect me. The

First Amendment is for everyone. Freedoms are for RA: What’s the first step we need to take towards immigration reform?

DC: You have to absorb all of the immigrants that are

in the US; they’ve been working, some of them 10, 15, 20 years, and they are part of our society. They are de facto participant citizens in the culture and they have

to be absorbed, period. On a forward basis, you have to construct a highly intelligent immigration program

that will keep bringing new immigrants into the US.

We should work towards an open border, but as a

first step we can’t have people living here for 10-20

years and not have a chance to be fully enfranchised with their civil rights. So as a short-term political

movement, legalize people who are here and come up with a forward-thinking policy whereby we can

have people come here legally to participate in our

economy at various levels. It should not be impossible to come to the USA. It’s ridiculous.

RA: What are the benefits of an open immigration policy?

DC: Immigrants bring the motivational energy to the

economy that help keeps America ahead. They are

motivated workers and motivated entrepreneurs; they

bring the motivational juice to keep the aristocracy

DC: We should have a very open visitation policy, and

immigration policy for the engineers and computer

the end, we want to make America the most exciting place to be. The ultimate goal is to go borderless, like in Europe. I know that the Euro is being challenged,

and that in times of economic decline people turn to nationalism, “me first” or an “us first” kind of thinking. But Europeans were very smart to create the open economy because it enabled people to move around.

RA: Why do you think that there is such a strong antiimmigration sentiment in this country?

DC: Because it’s popular. Because of Lou Dobbs.

Because immigrants are scapegoats like Jews were.

Jewish people have an obligation as migrants. Seder is about immigration and being persecuted. It’s the

evil spirit of the majority to hurt the minority. It could be the Jews. It could be the Mexicans. It is just a bad

streak. The role reverses and moves around. That is why I believe in individual liberty. That’s why I don’t

trust groups. I don’t like fraternities in schools. I don’t

believe in religions. I appreciate religious theology, but I don’t believe in religion. I don’t believe in

nationalism. At a very young age my mother told me that Santa Clause and God do not exist, and that the root of all evil is religion and nationalism. She’s right.

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America the Beautiful

with Audrey Kitching

Photographed by Liz Besanson Hair & Makeup by Angela Sarracino

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american made by leonard charmichael

s I peered out into the light, I began to cry. I was not saddened or angry — I was relieved. I had finally, after nine long months, reached the end of my journey. I cried hysterically to be wiped clean of the afterbirth, and to acquaint my underdeveloped lungs to the concept of breathing. I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. I was terrified but hopeful, naïve but aware of a purpose. I could not begin to understand the meaning I had brought into the lives of the couple that so unselfishly brought me here. Then again, I’m not confident I’ve ever understood anything at all. As the room began to calm, I remained restless. The sleep deprivation had taken its toll on my newly formed shell. Fascinated with the bright lights, I had pried my way out for the sake of curiosity. Now I was exhausted, as is anyone after months of traveling. I couldn’t have cared less about where, or who, I was; these were questions that could surely be addressed at a later time. Although I was new to these people and this place, I immediately felt a great sense of comfort within their arms and fell fast asleep. I vaguely remember the hours that followed as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I became aware that we were leaving the safe haven (which I later came to find was a hospital) as we ventured out into the winter of 1984. I felt as if I belonged to the other humans who accompanied me, and somehow sensed they were part of me. The man in the front seat was driving down the road with an extreme caution that seemed uncommon of his bold nature, and I remember feeling like I must be a passenger of some importance. The lady whispered and sang sweet melodies into my ear. Those melodies have resonated with me over the years, and formed parts of my character. The man pulled into an old farmhouse in the small town of Pickerington, Ohio, and exclaimed that we had made it “home.” I had heard of this term and knew what it meant, although I did not pay too much attention in the womb. I barely remembered the part about the “family unit,” but at this point I could discern that this was my family, and this was where I was to begin my life in America. As time progressed, I began to save certain memories in my head. Most of the memories were irrelevant for growth or productivity. They contained such themes as the sound of a record player; the colors I saw most frequently, which were scarlet and grey; and the school colors of the university my father attended during the early years of my

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life. I also remember tea parties on inflatable furniture with my father’s sister from California. She would come to town in a leather jacket, touting ideals and concepts that were beyond my understanding. My mother was sweet, and always attended to my needs. I didn’t understand why at the time. I began to see that she needed such affection roughly a year and a half into our relationship, when she brought home a boy that they said was my brother. The family aesthetic was finally beginning to take shape. I began to understand that this was my tribe, and for them I owe the world. My father worked hard at his studies, and brought my younger brother and me to the school of veterinary medicine to see the species he was studying. This was important to me, and my admiration for his compassion towards animals has stuck with me into my adulthood. For that I am thankful. As most students do, he graduated in hopes of starting a practice of his own to provide for his family. We all thought it best to take the family into the more prominent northern city of Cleveland to start our lives as a real American Family. It was 1987 when news of a sister was brought to our attention. This excited me. I loved being an older brother, and the more I learned about this sister the more excited I became. Through the television, I had experienced what I believed to be the prototype of the family unit: the white picket fence, and the happily married sweethearts who did no wrong in each other’s eyes. To me, we were the family who had the world at their fingertips. We held up to the standards set by the American ideal. I truly felt as though life was perfect, and it stayed this way for a long time. My sister entered the picture in the summer of 1988 — one of the best summers of my life. We filled our days with barbecues, family friends, sprinklers and baseball. I distinctly remember being five years old, and that crazy aunt from California coming to visit with a now-defunct suitor who took the time out of his beer-guzzling hippie holiday to teach me how to ride a two-wheel bike. This was the first time in my life that I realized that anything was possible through persistent effort and hope. I was free. As I coasted down Woodsway Lane on a two-wheeler with no training wheels to coddle me, I felt as though the world was at my fingertips. Any goal I could conceive of was attainable, especially with the support of the picture-perfect family that awaited me at home. Over the next five years, that same positive energy proved a driving force in everything I did. I approached school with an intense passion for learning. Every challenge I saw, I conquered with ease. I scored off the charts in nearly every academic subject and

standardized test. In sports, I performed better than every one of my peers, and even most of the older kids. I made countless friends, girls adored me and I was always the first picked at every schoolyard game. I was kind to others. I had that same compassion my father held for animals, and directed it towards people. Life was good and I had no complaints. America was the greatest place on earth, and my own home was the healthiest place on the planet…or so I thought. One night, when I was nearly ten years old, I was lying awake in the bedroom I shared with my younger brother. I could hear my parents downstairs in the living room screaming at each other. I had heard them argue before and thought it was normal. People raise their voices occasionally, don’t they? After all, it happens in sitcoms, and I’d even heard my friends’ parents argue. In my mind as a tenyear-old boy, this was all a normal part of life. But for some reason, this time was different. I vividly remember repeatedly checking on my brother to make sure he was safely preoccupied in his dreams, and would not hear the obscenities our beloved parents were hurling back and forth. Usually, my parents’ arguments escalated quickly and simmered even faster. On this particular night, the fighting went on for hours, which felt like an eternity in my young mind. I slowly crept out of bed and reassured myself that my brother was asleep. My sister was in a separate room, and for the sake of my integrity I’d like to say I checked on her too, but in truth I’m not quite sure. I slowly crept to the sixth step from the bottom floor. The fifth step creaked, so I skipped it to remain undetected. I then began to weep with my head resting on legs, carefully listening to each word they spewed at one another. I wanted with all my heart to scream at both of them, but I couldn’t. I felt like a coward. For the first time in my life I understood what it was to be vulnerable. It’s funny what your mind chooses to remember, and it’s sad what it won’t let you forget. I guess that it’s bittersweet how each of these moments ends up molding you into the person you are. I particularly remember crawling back up the stairs to my bedroom and lying with my head under the pillow to mask the sound of my parents yelling. It stung my soul to hear the lack of love in their voices. It seemed inconceivable that two people I cherished so deeply could not bestow that same feeling upon one another. But in the hardest reality check I had yet incurred, I realized that was the case. The fighting became commonplace as I approached my teenage years. I accepted that my parents were not the picturesque couple that I had once thought them to be. I don’t exactly remember when it was, or how it played out, but I was 12 years old when my parents decided to divorce. I had braced myself for this day, but the reality of the situation was much heavier than I could have prepared for. In my eyes, my family was being torn apart. In America’s eyes, my siblings and I were morphing into the “modern family” model of the broken home. My mother kept the family home and got a job at a local bank. My father temporarily moved into a small house that one of his friends owned. He was scheduled to visit his three children on Wednesdays and every other weekend. Like most kids, I felt partially responsible for the breakup. I also felt resentment towards both parents for not having the strength to make things right. I know now that these were immature thoughts, and the reality is that relationships are hard and seldom last forever. I now see this divorce as a turning point in my life. My heart, once full of joy and hope, was tainted. I began to build a place in my being for angst and cynicism. My outlets, which were once positive and self-improving, turned self-

destructive. This was not all for the worse; I developed a thick layer of skin that has saved me throughout the years. I became more guarded, and questioned the world around me. I approached junior high with a whole new mentality. I now felt like an outsider looking in to my former circle. The kids who I so fondly called my friends seemed more concerned with hitting homeruns and making the grades than they did about the fallen empire that had become my life. They had no idea of the pain that was brewing in my heart or the damage I had seen over the past year. I carried on business as usual, but secretly something had died inside me. The next couple of years blurred by swiftly. Between excess jolts of testosterone and figuring out how to walk through the hallways

My heart, once full of joy and hope, was tainted. I began to build a place in my being for angst and cynicism. My outlets, which were once positive and self-improving, turned self-destructive. while hiding my erection, I didn’t have too much time for memories. Certain ones stuck, and others were best left forgotten. The few that stand out in my mind now were not the pleasant moments, but rather the ones that taught me about humanity. I mentioned earlier how I had felt as if my circle of friends didn’t get me anymore. This wasn’t really the case. In retrospect, I didn’t get me anymore. I burned a lot of bridges in that time. I traded in my baseball bat for a joint, my virginity for the most promiscuous girls in school, my straight-A crowd for the underachievers, the rebellious, and the damaged. All of a sudden I related to the starkness of “real life.” On one eye-opening afternoon, I was hanging around a trailer park that my friend lived in. We were smoking pot and kicking around a hacky sack. My friend’s mom was screaming for him to come inside. He kept asking, “What for?” She screamed, “Come inside, I need to ask you something.” My friend replied that he was too busy. His mother quickly ran outside to ask him if he had gotten paid by his job. She said they had no food in the house, and he needed to give her what he had if they wanted to eat that week. I was 15. I had a job, too. I washed dishes at a Chinese restaurant three days a week. I also had a mother and father, though not together, who provided healthy food and constant sustenance for me. I never had to buy groceries, and never felt the threat of not eating. For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to be humbled. Nearly 15 minutes had gone by and an engine roared through the gate of the trailer park. A shiny new car pulled up, blaring obnoxiously loud music. It was my other “friend.” He honked his horn, skidded to a stop and jumped out. The kids, including myself, crowded around in awe of the shiny new automobile. The young owner had just been given this $30,000 machine as a gift for his 16th birthday. I remember being baffled as to why any parent would do this. Why did any child deserve this? I had a friend who would not eat if he didn’t buy groceries. Here was this kid who was inexplicably gifted with a toy worth a year’s salary. For what, being born? I wondered where that left me. I guess I was somewhere in the middle class. I remember them skimming over the class structure of the United States of America in my government lessons, but it didn’t stick. This experience stuck. This was the first time I could see

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the system implemented in front of me, and it was fucked! I walked home that day, marched down into my mother’s basement and wrote a rap song about my experience. I had heard Tupac express similar opinions in his record. Now I had experienced the class phenomenon myself, and I wanted to speak my mind. Here in this suburban town, within a five-mile radius, lay a drastic separation of so-called class as defined by one’s annual household income (or lack thereof). This was my America. The more I traveled and spoke with folks around this country, the more I found that this was their America too. I went out a lot over the next few years. I found my safe haven in three things: music, graffiti and women. I approached my senior year of high school with little else on my mind. I was introduced to like-minded individuals, and I began to grow. I started to feel like I knew what I wanted from the world. When my peers discussed

I remember coming home one day to find a kid no older than 12 sitting on our couch... I looked over at the table and saw a 22mm handgun. I asked my roommate whose piece it was. This kid picked up the gun and said it was his. college, I zoned out. I had been to college campuses and inside dorm rooms. The beer-guzzling, shower-sharing, bunk bed lifestyle was certainly not for me. I decided to take a couple years off to figure my life out. I moved into an apartment with some close friends. We lived in a predominately black neighborhood on the border of East Cleveland. It was no place for an 18-year-old white male. I was an aspiring rapper and thought it was “cool” to live on a crack block and hear gunshots every night. All I did was make music at this point of my life. The couple I lived with was selling large amounts of cocaine to pay rent and buy groceries. To me, this was the life. I remember coming home one day to find a kid no older than 12 sitting on our couch. I had seen him on the block a few times, but had never gotten familiar with him. I looked over at the table and saw a 22mm handgun. I asked my roommate whose piece it was. This kid picked up the gun and said it was his. I was shocked, and to be honest, I was frightened. That wasn’t all. The kid was there to purchase cocaine from my roommate. He said that the fiends on the block weren’t going to buy it all powdered like it was, and asked my roommate if he could rock it up. I wanted nothing to do with this, so I left into the night saying I was going to see a girl. My roommate, my friend and this 12-year-old kid stayed home and cooked crack all night. When I returned the next day, I went about my business as usual and tried to keep the memory as distant as I could. Over the next three weeks, my roommate and friend began smoking crack regularly. The house nearly went to ruins, as did the people who lived there. One night, I just lay in bed thinking about leaving. I had about $500 cash in my drawer. That was enough to take a Greyhound to Seattle and start fresh. I had become disgusted with my America, and I needed to recover. Fleeing to Seattle was not realistic, but I came up with another plan. I spent the next month applying to music schools as far away from that damned apartment in East Cleveland as possible. I packed up my things and moved back to my mom’s house until I could make my escape. Sure enough, I found a

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unique little music conservatory in Tempe, Arizona. I applied, and was accepted. This was my way out. It all happened so fast. I remember filling my little green Honda Accord with all my belongings the day before. I was anxious to get on the road and start my new life. I said goodbye to my romantic interest the night before I left. I liked her; she was sweet and pretty. But I did not love her, and she didn’t fit into the ideal that I presumed my life was on a course for. I fucked her, said goodbye and then left the next morning. Driving across the open plains of Kansas and down through Texas, I was amazed by the diverse landscape that formed my country. Before now, I had only experienced it from an airplane or television set. I felt small, and was riddled with anxiety. In between panic attacks and rural truck stops, I began to feel free. This must have been the same freedom our forefathers envisioned at this country’s conception. A land where a man could just get up and go, and venture forth on his pursuit of happiness. Over the next three days, I drove on autopilot in a cathartic state of openness. I arrived at my destination in the southwest corner of the country with no expectations. I thought I had escaped, though now I know better. I thought I was running from my broken home and my drug-addicted friends. I thought I was running from a mundane life of blue-collar aspirations, fleeing to a world of greater meaning. I quickly learned that I was running from myself, and no matter how far you run, there you are. The next few days were a culture shock. Coming from a rural, segregated town in Ohio, I began to see my America grow larger than I could have ever imagined. Driving around my new city, I saw a culture of Mexican and Native Americans. I was now in the minority. I remember learning of a melting-pot culture in school, but I had not grasped the concept until now. I felt privileged and humbled. The tables had turned, and in a city of brown I felt pale in comparison. I embraced the culture and grew a new appreciation for where I lived. As the days passed, my conservatory education grew secondary to my education from exploration. I spent my nights wandering the streets alone, studying people and the places that they inhabited. When I returned to my studio apartment, I wrote music about what I saw. For the first time in my life, I was truly happy. It was about 7pm on a Saturday night in 2005. I was sitting on my couch watching “Unsolved Mysteries” when my phone rang. It was my romantic interest from Ohio, the girl I was with the night before I left on my journey. I picked up and immediately sensed distress in her voice. She said she was pregnant. I was overcome with adrenaline, as if somebody had just challenged me to a fight. I grew terrified; the room closed in around me. I remember words being spoken, but I can’t remember what was said. I hung up the phone and immediately broke down crying. I wasn’t sad or angry. I was beside myself with the same emotion I had felt with the realization of my parents’ divorce. My world had crumbled. It was as if my soul had been stolen from my body, and this lady had taken it captive. She now controlled a part of me, and I had not authorized this. I walked to the 7-Eleven on the corner and stole a bottle of Popov Vodka. I drank nearly half of it. Completely inebriated, I sat down in my closet studio and wrote a song entitled “Roll with the Punches.” To this day, it is the most honest recollection of my feelings. I haven’t been able to write anything as personally accurate since that night. The next few weeks, all I could think about was becoming a father

AMERICAN MADE

on somebody else’s terms. My grand plan of escapism was coming to an end. In school I could not focus, and outside of school my head obsessed over my situation. I became depressed and unstable. Thoughts of suicide were swimming through my mind nearly every second of the day. On a Thursday night about a month after the news hit, I abruptly packed my things into that green Honda Accord and set out to return to the God-forsaken town I had so eagerly left. I just couldn’t deny the situation that I had helped create back home. The drive back was bittersweet. On one end, I was abandoning a place and a goal that I had really become attached to. On the other hand, I had come to terms with being a father and began to welcome the idea. I really had no other choice. When I returned, I felt a complete emptiness in my hometown. My world seemed much larger now. I had left and seen things on a grander scale. Still, my heart was filled with a sense of worth and purpose for this child, so I returned to my mother’s basement and prepared myself a room. As for the mother-to-be of my child, I attended to her every waking whim and really got to know her. For the first time, I felt like I was in love. There’s an unbreakable bond between two people when another life is involved. I can’t explain the feeling, but I now understood how my parents felt about me. How even if they knew they weren’t right for each other, they could not let it go because they had a son. They had become intertwined in the yarn of life. For the first time, I was able to feel sympathy towards my parents. I understood. Now I could learn to let go. One night, my baby’s mother became violently ill, and she was rushed to the emergency room. When she called, she was crying. She had miscarried. I hung up the phone, and a familiar rush flushed through my veins. Although I never really accepted the responsibility of fatherhood, I was saddened by the loss. I had experienced the deaths of family and friends, but this was different. This was a piece of myself. I felt an overwhelming sense of fragility. I was down and out. I aided the girl through it, and we formed a strong bond. We stayed together, and eventually she made a trek back out to Arizona with me to finish school. I was back on track, and this time I had a partner in crime. Sadly, I had (and still have) a skewed view of love. I almost felt as if it were just an ideal, a fairy tale, the Jesus Christ of emotions. Of course the relationship ended. I took an internship in Los Angeles, packed up my trusty green Honda Accord, and set out for Hollywood. Once again, I was on the road seeing the country in a new light. I drove as far west as possible that night, and slept in my car in some beach town near the southern tip of California. As I peered out into the ocean, I felt free again. Free like this country was supposed to make me feel. I was once again living out my dream. I cruised up the coast, admiring the wonder of the West. It was all so surreal to me. Eventually, I settled in and found an apartment with a gay man named Michael in Hollywood. I woke up at six each morning to go to the “internship” my school had assigned. It was miserable. I sat in a lady’s apartment filing “contracts” for her “artists.” It was a scam, but I needed to eat. Soon, I quit and got a job a local coffee shop to make ends meet. My brother soon followed me out to L.A., and we got a place together. I felt on top of the world. We had nothing. We lived in a shitty apartment with no food or money, and we were damn happy. We made art and music and partied, and eventually we convinced our sister and cousins to come do the same. In our eyes, this was the American dream. Those days remain some of the best times of my life.

I mentioned the partying. It is an American cliché that Hollywood parties are covered in cocaine. There’s a reason for that: it’s true. I had never been a huge partier, and my brother and sister were practically anti–drug at this point. But coke was socially acceptable here, and as the social butterfly that I was, I began using. Cocaine was never a problem for me. Quite frankly, I never liked it that much; I would just do it if it was around. One night, I was at a party off of Sunset Blvd. and was trying to score some blow. This girl told me she had something else and it was cheaper. I gave her $25, and she gave me a gram-and-a-half of crystal meth. That lasted me three days. The addiction lasted nine months. The toll this drug took on my life still affects me. I think about it every day, and I not only hurt myself but my family and friends along the way. I hit rock bottom. I was deep into the haze caused by the drug, and had given up on my life. At a party at my apartment, I wound up sleeping with my former girlfriend (the one who had miscarried). She was now also living in California to pursue a make-up career. We slept together for reminiscence’s sake, and didn’t speak for a couple of months afterwards. Out of the blue, I got a phone call from her, and the scene from two years ago was re-enacted. This time it was mid-day and I had just gotten high. She said she was pregnant, the whole nine. I was a mess. I was in no place to have a child, and if I did I was sure it would be a crack baby. I wept, called my mother, and took the first plane back to Ohio. I was going to get clean and be a father. This time the pregnancy stuck. I haven’t touched crystal meth since the birth of my beautiful daughter (who will be five this year). She saved my life. For that I was thankful. I was nervous to be a father, and I was also nervous to bring a child into an unstable family life. Her mother and I had no plans to be together. The more

My roommate, my friend and this 12-year-old kid stayed home and cooked crack all night. I grow, the more I realize that this is reality. Not just in this country, but around the world. People are raised differently. Some children have two dads, or no dad, and some have no parents at all. Some turn out fine and some don’t. That’s how it goes. As time progressed and my daughter grew, I made a couple of trips back and forth across America. Each time I took a different route, and each time I learned something different from my journey. The country had changed, and somehow it had become smaller in my eyes. I connect pieces of myself to different parts of it. Part of me is at a truck stop in New Mexico. A piece of me is in a motel in Colorado. My heart is in Ohio, but my soul is in California. I had grown with this great space, and had taken my time to make this place my own — all of it. I had the freedom to do so. I have the freedom now to continue. I sit and write these words from my heart, and am able to do so only because the writers of great things said I could when they built the framework of America. To me, America is ever changing and everything. It is racism and religion, and beautiful mountain ranges, and open planes and crack cocaine, and big city lights and dreams of fame, and motherless children and trust fund shame. It’s guilt and pain, and love and dreams, and ideals and fried food, and obesity and super gyms. It’s crazy and it’s never sane, but it’s my country, it’s exactly who I am. I am an American.

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OFF STAGE WITH THE LONELY WILD

THE LONELY WILD THE LONELY WILD THE LONELY W 089 LEVELEDMAG.COM

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JESSI WILLIAMS

DAVID FARINA

ANDREW SCHNEIDER RYAN ROSS

ANDREW CARROLL

he Lonely Wild hovered in the collective unconscious of America. They created music that was new and genre-bending, while tapping into the spirit of the red, white and blue.

Spearheaded by songwriter Andrew Carroll in 2010, The Lonely Wild soon came to life with the help of Ryan Ross, Andrew Schneider, Edward Cerecedes, and Jessi Williams. Their powerful live performances won favor amongst audiences and critics. It wasn’t long before the band was selling out shows and touring the country, promoting their debut EP, Dead End. Edward Cerecedes left the band shortly before they released their debut LP, The Sun As It Comes, saving himself from the untimely death that would befall the band. Newcomer, David Farina was not so lucky. During a Tokyo performance in the seventh month of 2013, the band perished in what has been called, “The fall that broke the neck, that lit the spark, that fried the band.” During their routine closing number, “Buried in the Murder,” Carroll accidentally murdered himself and the band. He tripped over a monitor cable and fell off stage, breaking his neck and the cable. The exposed wires violently sparked on the stage floor, which was wet with sake, and sent a heart-stopping electrical current through the remaining members of the band.

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Although their bodies have perished, The Lonely Wild will forever live through their lonely family, lonely friends and lonely fans. LEVELEDMAG.COM

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G O E S

H O L L Y W O O D

H E S T E R I S PA C K I N G U P A N D H E A D I N G W E S T, S O D O N ' T M I S S O U T ! T H I S S U M M E R , N E W Y O R K ' S FAV O R I T E O U T D O O R M A R K E T I S C O M I N G T O H O L LY W O O D A N D E V E RY O N E I S I N V I T E D ! J O I N U S F O R F O U R R I D I C U L O U S LY F U N E V E N T S W I T H O V E R 1 2 0 V E N D O R S T H AT C E L E B R AT E S O M E O F L A ' S F I N E S T A RT I S A N S , I N D I E D E S I G N E R S , K N O W- I T- A L L C O L L E C T O R S , M U S I C I A N S , MICROBREWERIES AND OF COURSE - FOODIES!

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what is an american anyway? BY CARL WITHERS

POLITICAL RANTS WITH CRAZY CARL

re you “Proud To Be An American” as proclaimed in the iconic song by Lee Greenwood? Wait, before you answer that, let’s address the question posed in the title of this article first. This shouldn’t take long. After all, anyone can come up with an easy answer to any question. For instance, the easy answer to the title question would be that an American is simply someone from America. See, that wasn’t so bad. Then again, what exactly is America and where is it located? There’s a North America, a South America, a Central America and a United States of America, but there’s no America... at least there hasn’t been a location officially named that for centuries. So again, what and where is this place many people refer to as America? It seems the answer to the original question only created more questions. Before things get too convoluted, let’s do a quick history lesson to put some things into perspective. The prevailing view of many historians is that the continent of what is now known as South America was originally labeled America in 1507 by a German mapmaker in honor of the Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci. (The Aztecs, Incas, and all the other tribes who lived there probably just referred to the continent as “home”, but that’s neither here nor there now.) While it was Christopher Columbus who first voyaged to what was then known as The New World, it was Amerigo’s separate travels and journals that demonstrated the places he and Columbus “discovered” were not parts of Asia as originally estimated. Shortly thereafter when explorers stumbled upon North America, the landmass was lumped in with South America, and both were simply referred to as America. The area of what is now known as Latin America was named as such in the late 1800s. Alright, now we’re all on the same page. Plus, we can probably all get a few questions right on an 8th grade history quiz as well. Nowadays the term America is almost exclusively synonymous with the United States of America. Without a doubt, it’s extremely rare for anyone to refer to any other country in North, South, or Central America as America. It’s even more rare, if not nonexistent, to hear someone refer to a person from Canada, Brazil, Guatemala, etc. as an American. This being the case, we can clearly come to the conclusion that an American is simply someone from the United States of America. Great. We’re done, right? Well, that depends on what the agreed definition of “from” is. One of a few vague definitions of the word “from” as stated by the Merriam-Webster online dictionary is “a function word to indicate the starting or focal point of an activity”. That doesn’t really clarify things though, does it? Some would say that you are “from” wherever you are born. By that logic, anyone foreign born who later becomes a U.S. citizen is not an American. If you ask them, they might proudly tell you that they are indeed American. Are they wrong or right? And furthermore, who has the authority to decide what interpretation of the word “from” is correct? At this point it seems that the only reasonable compromise is to alter our original definition of an American to be anyone who is a U.S. citizen regardless of where they were born. Okay, now we’re done, right? Not necessarily. Definitions are fine and good, but they usually only scratch the surface of what a word truly means. Like a lot of words, American means a lot of different things to a lot of different people, and many would say that it stretches way beyond simply

meaning a U.S. citizen. It really all depends on what one’s view of the United States is, and it goes without saying that there are countless conflicting views in regards to this. Some see the U.S. as a wonderful land of freedom and opportunity. On the other hand, some see it as a land of a privileged few who dictate public policy and control the masses. Some see the U.S. as a vital defender of peace and democracy in the world, while others see it as an evil, imperialistic nation that imposes its will through brute force and intimidation. We could easily go on and on like this, but there’s no need. Basically, how one views the U.S. will likely determine how they define who and what an American truly is. While one may suppose that the international community would hold the majority of conflicting views of the U.S., it is arguably Americans themselves who are most at odds with one another over what their country stands for, as well as what it should stand for.

Some see the U.S. as a vital defender of peace and democracy in the world, while others see it as an evil, imperialistic nation that imposes its will through brute force and intimidation. The political climate in the U.S., and in practically every other country in the world, has always been turbulent since the nation began. But let’s be honest, political turmoil in some shape or form will forever exist everywhere due to the fact that we will not all agree all the time. And the degree to which people disagree in various parts of the globe will always vary throughout time. Right now there’s clearly a lot of disillusion and bickering occurring in Europe, primarily over financial matters, and this is equally true in the U.S. Many Americans are disputing each other’s economic ideologies to the point of ultimately disputing whether the other is a “true” American. And this is just one aspect of a very broad attack on one another. Americans question each other’s “American-ness” over a multitude of issues depending on whether or not they support things such as: social programs for the less fortunate, military actions, unregulated Capitalism, public education, gun control, abortion, separation of church and state, etc. What is the correct “American” stance to have on issues like these, and who ultimately has the right to decide what that may be? Furthermore, how do we answer questions like these when we still aren’t even sure what an American is beyond the simple definition we established earlier? If the only thing that can be determined without much conflict is that an American is a U.S. citizen regardless of where they were born, then maybe that’s the only meaning we should give the word. After all, that’s still saying a lot. The U.S. population is comprised of many different races, cultures, ideas, and beliefs. Any true democracy welcomes all of these things and allows them to coexist. If this ever changes in the U.S., then the country itself will dramatically change as a consequence. And really, who knows if it can even survive such a change. At that point, it’s safe to say the word American will mean nothing. The bottom line is that Americans live in a country that was founded on the principle of liberty and justice for all. A true American believes and follows this principle. So how about it, are you “Proud To Be An American”?

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Secret Kept: An Unbelievable True Story By Curt Sell

s it naïve to think secrets can be kept these days? What government agencies, large corporations, or malevolent hackers are aware that you’re reading this article right now? Where is the line between privacy, public information, and national security? Any material that can cause “exceptionally grave damage” to national security if made public is deemed Top Secret. On May 16, 2012 FBI Director Robert S. Mueller III announced his agency’s investigation into recent Top Secret leaks to the news media. The investigation is a reaction to a press release that revealed a spoiled Al Qaeda plot to smuggle an underwear bomber from a Yemeni affiliate onto a U.S.-bound airplane. If government secrets are in big trouble, so are yours. Travel back to a time when World War II is heating up, and the following information requires Top Secret clearance, the highest security classification of the U.S. government. Spring’s in full bloom in the Oregon woods. Elsie Mitchell takes five children on a fishing trip near Bly. Someone finds an inflated, metallic object caught in the brush. When the others poke around the thing EXPLODES releasing a massive fireball that kills them all. Sirens wale rousing Air Force pilots out of bed. A squadron of P-51 Mustang fighter planes races over the ocean meeting the rising sun. The pilots bulls eye their targets, silver, unmanned balloons. Across the Pacific, Japanese General Kusaba directs an operation that unleashes thousands of similar balloons traveling via jet stream toward the North American coast. After three days, the balloons wreak havoc, indiscriminately dropping incendiary bombs on American and Canadian rural areas and cities. Some of the firebomb balloons even wind up down in Mexico. Incendiary bombs made of rice paper are the world’s first intercontinental weapons of mass destruction. Military analysts can’t even fathom that the balloons are actually coming all the way from mainland Japan. They mistakenly believe the Japanese are launching the balloons on North American beaches, or submarines just off the coast.

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Japanese propaganda films rush to produce reels portraying hysterical Americans terror-stricken by ten thousand casualties and raging infernos. Compounding the balloon threat, the military grows anxious over biological weapons being developed at the infamous Unit 731 site at Pingfan in Manchuria. Equally troubling is the recent memory of The Battle of Los Angeles. Just three months after the U.S. enters the war in 1942, a presumably stray weather balloon (some argue a UFO) triggers a wild aerial barrage against an imagined Japanese attack force. The extreme overreaction to what Secretary of the Navy, Frank Knox calls a “false alarm,” causes 3 civilian deaths from anti-aircraft guns, and makes splashy headlines nationwide. Something must be done before the cat gets out of the bag. Around three hundred witnesses report sighting Japanese balloon bombs. Turning up the heat, on January 1, 1945 Newsweek runs an article, “Balloon Mystery”. In response, the Office of Censorship issues a request calling on all newspaper and radio news agencies to keep the balloon bombs under wraps in order to protect national security and prevent widespread panic. Incredibly, news agencies all over the country comply. Meanwhile on the European front, the badly depleted ranks of American paratroopers urgently require replenishment. Out of options, the Army turns to men whose ordinary military service consists of little more than menial jobs like cooking and cleaning. On December 19, 1943 the Army activates the first all-black unit in history, consisting entirely of black officers and enlisted men. Despite the pride of their new commission, these soldiers still feel the sting of using “colored only” restrooms and sitting in segregated sections of movie theaters. By November of 1944 the unit blossoms into a full battalion called the 555th Parachute Infantry Battalion, nicknamed the Triple Nickles (Old English spelling). Their emblem consists of a pyramid of three buffalo nickels, and 17 of the original 20-member “colored test platoon” come from the 92nd Infantry

of Buffalo Soldiers. Members of the 555th see white soldiers and prisoners of war from Germany sitting at the same table drinking and smoking while they can’t join them because of their skin color. Shocking military brass, the battalion successfully completes the rigorous airborne training. However, European theater commanders cite fears of white racism, and allege they have “no use” for these highly trained soldiers. Even though the military denies the Triple Nickles the action overseas they signed up for, the mounting balloon bomb assault on the West Coast makes them the perfect men for a daring Top Secret mission, Operation Firefly. The rash of blazing forest fires grows wildly out of hand. Making matters worse, most able-bodied men are already off fighting in the war, leaving too few to tackle the challenge. The Triple Nickles must adapt to fighting fires instead of Nazis. Picture this, a doe and its fawn sip water from a lazy river in the remote woods. Suddenly, swarms of birds flee the nearby trees. A tsunami of fire pours over the treetops. Then, the Triple Nickles descend on the river, punching sunlight holes through the billowing smoke. Armed with only a leather football helmet and a shovel, the men get to work digging trenches to tame the blaze. Fearlessly leaping into raging infernos soon earns the men a second nickname, “Smoke Jumpers.” During Operation Firefly, the Triple Nickles astoundingly complete over 1,200 successful jumps. On March 10, 1945 one of the last fire balloons causes a short circuit in the power lines supplying electricity to the Hanford Site, a plutonium production facility for the Manhattan Project hidden in the Washington woods. Begun in 1942, the Manhattan Project was another Top Secret American-led effort, working in cooperation with the United Kingdom and Canada, to produce the world’s first atomic bomb. Fortunately at the Hanford Site, emergency backup generators kick in to cool the pumps keeping the nuclear reactor at a safe temperature. Amazingly, both the Japanese military and the American public remain clueless about the narrowly avoided,

Chernobyl-like catastrophe. In addition, the press blackout leaves the Japanese unable to gage the effectiveness of their balloon attacks. Lacking any tangible evidence of success, the Japanese order General Kusaba to cease his bombing operations. Despite its overwhelming success, once Top Secret Operation Firefly and the heroics of the Triple Nickles are mostly forgotten and unknown. No longer a threat to national security, this vital information impacts a variety of topics including military desegregation, unmanned weapons, nuclear warfare, and covert operations. On March 30, 2010 the Pentagon held a ceremony honoring the 555th Infantry Regiment which included the three surviving members of the test platoon Clarence Beavers, Walter Morris, and Roger Walden. These days, both governments and individuals find secrecy harder than ever to maintain. For better or worse, almost any kind information is now immediately accessible all over the world. Governments are no longer the primary, central source of information they once were. It’s the age of “choose your own” propaganda. Also, judging from the monsoon of media criticism about the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars it’s highly unlikely that the media, if it even exists anymore as a cohesive unit, would play ball with the American government, let alone military. Could America keep a secret like Operation Firefly today? Doubtful. Commenting on the recently exposed secret of the foiled underwear bomb plot FBI Director Mueller remarked, “Leaks such as this have a - I don’t want overuse the word ‘devastating’ - but have a huge impact on our ability to do our business, not just on a particular source and the threat to the particular source, but your ability to recruit sources is severely hampered.” So maybe there’s something to be said for keeping state secrets from time to time. Makes me wonder how the government manages to keep the truth about Roswell under wraps. LEVELEDMAG.COM

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THIS MONTH WE ASKED PEOPLE TO TELL US SOMETHING THEY HAD NEVER TOLD ANYONE BEFORE. THESE ARE THEIR SECRETS...

silver lake jubilee

I AM 31 HAVING AMAZING SEX ON THE DL WITH A 21 YEAR OLD. I WATCH HIM SLEEP. EVERYONE HAS FUCKED MY MOM AND NO ONE EMAILS ME. I WONDER WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH A GIRL? WHEN I WAS IN THE 2ND GRADE I HAD MY MOM WRITE ME A NOTE FOR RECESS SO I WOULD STAY INSIDE AND JACK EVERYONE’S COOL STUFF. I’VE KISSED MY BEST FRIEND, SHE WAS A GIRL. TODAY, I AM A PACIFIST, MY SECRET IS THAT I USED BE A KILLER. I AM BULLIMIC =(. I LOVE HIM. I LOVE MY DOG MORE THAN I LOVE MY FIANCE. I MASTURBATE 20X A DAY <3. SOMETIMES I EAT A HANDFUL OF DOG FOOD. I HOOKED UP WITH MY FRIEND’S BROTHER... I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE BROTHERS. I MOVED FROM COLORADO TO ENGLAND TO BE WITH A GUY, WHEN I ARRIVED HE WAS SUDDENLY NOT IMPRESSED, I WAS HURT, SO I DUMPED AN EXTRA HEAPING TABLESPOON OF PAKISTANI CHILI POWDER IN HIS FOOD, HE PAID FOR IT OUT THE ASS LATER. TRUST. I ONCE SMUGGLED JEWELRY FROM ARGENTINA. I HAD SEX WITH TWO GUYS IN ONE DAY! OOPS I AM BAD :[ & I BREAK HEARTS. I CRIED ONCE THE WHOLE TIME DURING SEX & THE DUDE NEVER KNEW! XOXO. I’M AFRAID NO ONE WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH ME; I’LL ALWAYS HAVE TO WONDER WHAT LOVE IS/FEELS LIKE. I LIKE MAKING DIRTY MOVIES OF WHICH I LICK MEN’S BOOTY HOLES! <3 TARA LYNN FOXX. I’VE DONE COKE (THE DRUG). I FINGERED DOM’S MOUTH W/MY PP. I HAD SEX WITH MY BEST FRIEND’S WIFE AND SISTER... AT THE SAME TIME. I TOOK A SHIT ON THE WELCOME MAT OF MY HIGH SCHOOL. #POOPS! I SECRETLY DO WANT TO GET MARRIED. I WAS BORN A TWIN. I ONCE LET A 68 YEAR OLD ITALIAN MAFIOSO NAMED “TOMMY GUN MOE” GO DOWN ON ME SO I COULD SCORE SOME BLOW. I HAD SEX WITH A LESBIAN. I’M STRAIGHT. I STARTED MASTURBATING WHEN I WAS 8 YEARS OLD. I SMUGGLED DRUGS ACROSS THE US MEXICAN BORDER. SWEAR I’M NOT GAY. WELL MAYBE A LITTLE BIT. BUT VERY STRAIGHT FOR THE MOST PART. WELL WHEN I WAS ABOUT TEN, WE WOULD FREQUENTLY GO OVER EACH OTHER’S HOUSE AND “TICKLE” EACH OTHER. TICKLE BASICALLY BEING A EUPHEMISM FOR TOUCH EACH OTHERS PENISES. SWEAR IT’S NOT GAY. SWEAR. I LIKE LOOKING AT LADY PARTS. THE FIRST TIME I MADE OUT IN LA WAS WITH A TRANNY I MET ON MYSPACE. I WAS TRICKED. I TELL EVERYBODY EVERYTHING. I KINDA LIKE NOT WEARING SOCKS. I STOLE A PIECE OF CANDY WHEN I WAS 6. I KNOW IT’S REALLY BAD AND WILL END UP KILLING ME... BUT I’M YOUNG I GUESS? I’VE RECENTLY STARTED SHOOTING HEROINE... I CAN’T DESCRIBE THE FEELING. I GUESS I CAN SAY IT’S ABSOLUTE BLISS. I ALSO THINK I’M A SEX ADDICT, I’M AN IN-CLOSET LESBIAN, AND HAVE A BOYFRIEND. I SLEPT WITH ALL 5 OF MY GUY FRIENDS AND NONE OF THEM KNEW. THEY ALL THOUGHT THEY WERE THE ONLY... I AM IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND. I LIKE TO BE SPANKED UNTIL I’M BLACK AND BLUE. I AM A SUBMISSIVE. I WANT TO BE A BOY. I JUST FOUND OUT MY BOYFRIEND LIKES PROSTITUTES. HEROINE IS MY DRUG OF CHOICE. I SLEPT WITH A PROSTITUTE WHILE I WAS ON VACATION IN ARUBA FOR THANKSGIVING WITH MY FAMILY. THE FIRST PERSON I’VE EVER KISSED ON THE LIPS WAS MY SISTER. I ONCE MASTURBATED TO PEE-WEE. I DON’T LOVE HER ANYMORE. I KISSED MY STEP-DAD. I FOUND MY MOM’S DILDO IN THE SOCK DRAWER. I FREQUENTLY LISTEN TO THE RENT SOUNDTRACK IN THE NUDE. I LIKE ANAL. MATT KILLED MY SOUL. I HAD A FINGER UP MY ASS. I’M SECRETLY DEPRESSED. I HAD MY PERIOD, AND BLED IN CITIBANK ON A CHAIR. I LOVE ROBERT DELONG. LIFE IS HARD, REALLY REALLY HARD. WHEN I WORKED AS A MASSAGE THERAPIST ONE OF MY CLIENTS HAPPENED TO BE ATTRACTIVE... I LET HIM FUCK ME AFTER A SESSION, OF COURSE NO CHARGE. ROLLER-COASTERS SCARE ME. I LOOK AT THE WORLD THROUGH 3RD PERSON POINT OF VIEW. I FEEL LIKE THE ONE CELESTIAL. LOVE THE WORLD. NO ONE LOVES US ANYMORE. I FUCKED MATT’S MOUTH. I KILLED MY NEIGHBOR’S DOG WHEN SHE DIDN’T WANT TO PLAY WITH ME. I TOOK SOME EGGS OUT OF A BIRD HOUSE AND THREW THEM ON THE GROUND. THAT SAME DAY, MY FRIEND AND I KILLED A BIRD. WE WERE YOUNG KIDS. I’LL NEVER FORGET AND TO THIS DAY FEEL BAD ABOUT IT. I’M ATTRACTED TO ALL MY GIRLFRIENDS’ MOMS MORE THAN THEM. I’M 49, MY BF IS 27 <3. I HATE ALL MY WIFE’S FRIENDS. I ONLY CRY WHEN I CUT UP AN ONION. I STEAL MY ROOMMATE’S CONDOMS. 3 OF MY EX-BOYFRIENDS WANTED TO HAVE AFFAIRS WITH ME AFTER MY DIVORCE, I TOLD THEM I DON’T HAVE AFFAIRS/SEX WITH MARRIED MEN. I NOW WISHED I HAD. I ACTUALLY THINK I’M REALLY PRETTY. EVERYONE ELSE ASSUMES I THINK I’M JUST NOT. I SHOT THE SHERIFF. MY EX CHEATED ON ME WITH A DOWNTOWN ARTIST. SHE’S HIS PROBLEM NOW, ONE DAY SHE’LL BE SORRY. I’M SECRETLY NOT GAY! SHHHH I’VE YET TO ENJOY SEX. I’VE HAD IT MANY TIMES. I MADE OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND. IT WAS KINDA HOT. SHE WAS LESS INTO IT THAN ME. I MAKE OUT WITH MY DOG, PEPPER. SHE’S CUTE. I’M HERE TO MEET UP AND SURPRISE MY LONG LOST LOVE. I’M MARRIED NOW. I LIKE GUACAMOLE... SHHHH I FAKED A PREGNANCY AFTER I FUCKED MY BEST FRIEND SO HE WOULD LOVE ME. I LIKE TO PICK MY NOSE. I THINK MY BEST FRIEND IS A CHEAP WHORE, BUT I KEEP HANGING OUT WITH HER BECAUSE THE GUYS SHE DATES TAKE US ON VACATIONS. I’VE BEEN BULIMIC FOR 6 YEARS. I DON’T HAVE A THIRD NIPPLE. I LOVE GIRLS. I LOVE TO GET CHOKED. I LOVE SEX. I FUCKED MY BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER. I HAVE A SMALL DICK. I HAVE A CRUSH ON DANIEL LEEB. I SPIED ON MY STEP-MOTHER IN THE BATHROOM WHEN I WAS YOUNGER. I THINK MY DAD KNEW. I MASTURBATE WITH MY SOFA PILLOWS. I LOVE TO GET FUCKED WHILE COVERED IN GUMMY BEARS. BURNING TILL FIRE ASHES MY BONEZ. I AM INTO BESTIALITY. THE BULLDOG ON YOUR TABLE... THE THINGS I WOULD DO TO HIM. PEACE IS IMPOSSIBLE. I USED TO FEAR THAT THE LORD WOULD IMPREGNATE ME. I THREW STICKS AT A HOMELESS GUY, JUST BECAUSE HE WAS SLEEPING. WHEN I WAS A KID (BUT OLD ENOUGH TO SHIT IN MY PANTS) I SHAT IN MY PANTS AT A HALLMARK STORE. THE TURD ROLLED DOWN MY LEG AND OUT OF MY PANTS ONTO THE FLOOR. MY MOM KICKED IT TO THE SIDE OF THE HALL. I HAVE ONE HAIR ON MY NIPPLE THAT GROWS TOO LONG AND I PLUCK IT. I’M A CHICK BY THE WAY. MY DEEPEST DARKEST FEAR IS FAILURE. I SOMETIMES WISH THAT MY PARENTS WOULD GET A DIVORCE. I THROW MY CHEWED GUM NEXT TO THE DRIVER’S DOOR OF CARS I DON’T APPRECIATE. I WISH I WAS DEAD. I SMOKED METH AT CHURCH AND THOUGHT I COULD SMOKE WITH GOD! I NEVER TOLD ANYONE THAT I WOULD GO BI FOR JOHNNY DEPP. MY PUSSY TASTES LIKE VANILLA, YA BITCH. WHEN I WAS YOUNGER I WOULD MAKE MY BARBIES KISS, BUT I’M NOT A LESBIAN. ALL MY IDEAS ARE SHIT. EVEN THOUGH I FUCKED A GUY THAT RUINED VICKY’S AND MY FRIENDSHIP... I DON’T REGRET IT. HE HAD A HUGE DICK :). I NEVER LIKED MY FRIEND. I CHEATED ON MY BOYFRIEND WITH HIS ROOMMATE. I HAD NIGHTMARES TILL I GOT A DREAM CATCHER FROM A TRIBE IN LAKE TAHOE. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A HOOKER AND AN ONION? LEVELEDMAG.COM