By Terrence McCoy
By Allie Conti
By Chuck Strouse
By Scott Fishman
By Terrence McCoy
By Ryan Yousefi
By Ciara LaVelle, Kat Bein, Carolina Del Busto, and Liz Tracy
By Pepe Billete
Kingsbury, a graphic designer at the Biscayne Boulevard Times, began the Parsley Advertiser (online at theparsley.com) about a year ago as a pocket-size flipbook of random musings and images. He began leaving the booklets at art galleries and bars, supermarkets and restaurants, hoping people would pick them up and enter his amusingly ridiculous imaginary world. Nowadays the Parsley Advertiser is a bona fide full-size rag, set to print 5000 glossy copies for the upcoming winter 2006 issue. Kingsbury counts fifteen subscribers who pay voluntary donations to have the thing delivered.
"You can increase the size of your forehead by up to 300 percent with our amazing pamphlet," trumpets one "ad" in the fall 2005 issue, the most recent. "Increase the credibility of your public delusions with our stone tablets," says another. One article describes the new stress-relief craze of backflipping. In a column called "Switch Board," Kingsbury asks, "Is Autumn-ated the exact opposite of Spring-loaded?" Then there's "Growing Apart Acres," where, an ad trumpets, you can "lose yourself and your significant other in our 40,000-acre paradise!"
Aside from the support of a few friends, Kingsbury, a self-described "sedentary" layabout, funds the endeavor about $1500 per issue on his own.
"It's silly, goofy shit," Kingsbury says, but not silly, goofy shit like The Onion, he adds. "That stuff is too easy for me.... That's cake; that's pie," Kingsbury says of current-event spoofs. Instead he prefers to stay solidly in "kind of like this abstract place in time," with mid-twentieth-century news photos, stories about the end of the world, and ads proclaiming, "New deals on ancient monuments!"
Kingsbury describes his editorial approach simply: "I try and stay where people get a head snap; they're like, öWhat?'"
Grind on Me
West Coast skaters like Stacy Peralta get the credit for inventing the modern version of the pastime, their efforts memorialized in films like Lords of Dogtown and Dogtown and Z-Boys. But Miami native Robbie Weir says East Coast skateboarders (such as himself and Hollywood's Alan "Ollie" Gelfand) deserve props as well, and he's written a book to that effect. Miami Inverted, penned by Weir and South Beach fashion photographer Willie Miller, chronicles Weir's early years skating at Runway Park in Perrine in the late Seventies and early Eighties, and his rise to fame as a member of the infamous Bones Brigade.
"I wrote it after I broke my arm skating in 2001," says Weir, a Miami Beach resident and owner of a film production company. "I'd sit at Ted's Hideaway and just write notes. After three months, I had a ton of notes and started putting it together."
Weir, now 40 years old, got his first break at the age of thirteen, when he did skateboarding trips for a national Burger King commercial, a spot that led to a sponsorship offer from skateboard manufacturing giant Powell Peralta. "Riding for Powell Peralta was like playing for the Yankees," Weir says. "It was sort of all uphill from there." The book reads like a history of the subculture, almost from its beginnings; for instance, Weir first skated with Tony Hawk when the latter was twelve years old and Weir was fourteen.