zine recommendations

nihilistwaffles was askin’ for zine recommendations, so I thought I’d make a list of some of my faves, here, and include links on where to find ‘em.


Piltdownlad #8.5 - The Cult of Teddy Ruxpin

“The Cult of Teddy Ruxpin was the brainchild of Brett and Vic. As the outcasts of Saks High, they found great pleasure in being contrary. Since the Christians were always talking about devil worshippers and cults, they decided to start a cult of their own. The stuffed talking bear was the most absurd icon they could think of to worship. They scrawled ‘Teddy Ruxpin Rules’ all over school, on desks, cafeteria tables, their lockers and the bathroom walls. There were slight variations, such as, 'Teddy Ruxpin Is God,’ 'All Hail Teddy Ruxpin,’ or 'Teddy Ruxpin Is My Savior.’ But the message was always the same. They knew it was stupid, but it alleviated the boredom. And it pissed off the Christians. So that made it worthwhile.”

quarter size
40 pages

$2 or trade to

PoBox 86714
LA, CA 90086

or etsy.

The sixth printing of Piltdownlad #2: Women Got Me Drinking (“Adventures in the Tourist Trade”) comes full circle, incorporating the cover from the first printing by Irina that we distributed throughout New Orleans during a road trip in 2011 with the second and later printings, which were typewritten and illustrated by Art Mark.

I’m putting these together in anticipation of the SF Zine Fest in August, but they are also available through etsy and, of course, as always, by trade.


In 1986, when I was fifteen and my little brother was eleven, we moved from LA to a small town in Alabama. Our father, a sergeant in the Army, was transferring to Fort McClellan, outside a place called Anniston. Along for the ride was this guy Rick, a friend of the family. We left the day after Christmas. It was the first time Joey and I had ever been out of the urban sprawl of Southern California. The prospect of a change was like a beacon guiding us across the country. The way the old man talked about it, the South was the land of golden opportunities, where we’d all be free to reinvent our lives for the better.

From the beginning, we were a total freakshow. Four dudes from LA living in a three bedroom house, with Rick and Joey sharing the master bedroom. There was the old man, so old, he could have passed for our grandpa. There was Joey, with his head shaved, because Rick went in for the fresh-recruit look. There was me, the raging metalhead, constantly pissing off the bible-thumpers and rednecks at school with my outlandish wardrobe and FUCK YOU attitude. And then there was Rick… Not only was he half-Japanese/half-Mexican and stood out like a sore thumb in the small Alabama town, he was always out in the yard trying to get all buddy-buddy with the young boys in the neighborhood, just like he’d done back in LA. Except what escaped attention in the big city raised all sorts of flags in a place like Anniston.

Six months later, the old man and Rick were in jail, Joey was in a Christian group home and I was in a mental hospital.

For me, things were looking up.

The adolescent ward of Hillcrest Sunrise Hospital wasn’t so bad. The food was decent. I had friends and things to do. Among the depressives, the suicidals, the pot smokers, the bulimics and anorexics, the white girls who dated black guys, the atheists, the queers and the borderline schitzos, I was in good company. The freaks and rejects of small town Alabama were my kind of people! Sure, the doors were locked, the windows were thick plexiglass, we had video camera aimed at us all the time and a full battalion of psych-techs monitored our every move. I was institutionalized, without a doubt. But the hospital was a dreamland in the sky compared to the shelter where they put Joey and me when we were first taken into custody. The Jackson Home. That place was a real shithole.

Also in this issue: A report from the LA Zine Fest, the impact of Dischord Records, notes on the papernet and zine reviews. Illustrated by Walt Hall.

“Piltdown Lad #4 has the right mix of variety and content – an absolute must read.”– DJ Frederick/One Minute Reviews

“The only zine I have ever read for MRR that I legitimately like… solidly enjoyable and interesting… I’ll definitely continue reading this.” - Ariel Amend-All/MRR

typewritten and photocopied
48 pages

Piltdownlad is a personal narrative zine. Issue #8 is The Olympic Spirit and Other Stories

Tales from the San Gabriel Valley… set in a time when kids weren’t allowed indoors until the sun went down… various shenanigans and random hijinks in Rosemead, Alhambra, San Gabriel and El Monte… turf wars on Columbia Street, free food from McDonald’s courtesy of the Eastern Bloc, smoking pot at Mark Keppel High, riding bikes in The Wash, playing Rambo at Marrano Beach, trashing Emerson Elementary, locked up at the Temple City Police Department, hunting the Night Stalker (AKA the Valley Prowler), having Parents Without Partners and more…

Trades or Etsy

Most of these are going to San Francisco in a couple weeks for the SF Zine Fest, but the much belated 6th issue of Piltdownlad is now available in my etsy store. Featuring a b&w wrap around cover, 100 pages of typewritten text interspersed with court records, newspaper clippings, song lyrics and photos, this messy, half-size, perfect bound, semi-epistolary zine is ideal for all bookcases and other narrow passages. The “Institutionalized” story cycle is preceded by a letters section and followed by zine reviews. Read more about the “story cycle” here: http://bit.ly/17raxGp



The Güero Chingón Stories, Vol. 1 have been reprinted. These five illustrated short stories about growing up in the San Gabriel Valley started out as mini-zines which I distributed around downtown LA. When the name Piltdownlad went from a pseudonym to the name of the zine, they were collected into this full size version as Piltdownlad #1, with a new introduction and all the original art from the minis. Available for trade or purchase through etsy.