2016 was another extremely productive year despite a day job and daddy duties which made much of my free time feel 99% unproductive and burned out. Artists I’ve worked with in the past—Miles Nielsen, La Historia, Trevor Menear, Ernie Hendrickson—returned for art direction and creative production help, all that branding nonsense jazz; and new artists (or in some cases, old ones with new adventures)—Trapper Schoepp, Nice Lords, Name The Moon, Weep & Willow—stumbled into making the Whorehall mess a part of their work process.
I am incredibly lucky to be doing what I set out to do as a child: create and share and be a part of music’s existence somehow, someway, despite modern times’ ignorance, lack of taste, and societal letdowns. Shit, people don’t even know what it feels like to pick up a real book and read it anymore without charging their smart device’s lithium battery. Fucking lame and lazy.
The collaborative work of these fellow photographers and artists’ contributions made every project easier on my lack of studio time to puzzle up, add or strip away creative ideas, layout and send off to press for each project. I want to shout out to:
Nels Akerlund, Daniel Murphy, Casey Curry, Carly Rice, Sarah Danielle Stewart, Benjamin Johnson, Travis Hettman, Barton Bishoff, Annalyce Schwitters and whoever produced that napkin drawing for the La Historia record’s lyric sheet insert—wish I knew who made that.
All of you, thank you for making my job and time easier to manage. If I’ve forgotten anyone, I’m truly sorry—my brain can only handle so much in the burned out stage it has been working through.
AW / 12.17.16
A shoutout to Sock Monkey Sound Podcast and a comrade in music, Chip Copeland. You’ve done great resurrecting the production from a three year domestic responsibilities abyss that everyone fell into. Nice work to you and the new guys. Everyone else, listen to it—it’s better than ever. To those of you in the past who chose to complain without contributing, eat a bag of dicks.
So, now, let’s be honest now to end this disturbing year, 2016. I’m burned the fuck out, so fried on energy and approaching mid-40s while still surviving the universe’s anal canal for estranged culture and a lack of decent creative opportunities—Rockford, IL—that I can’t keep up with the let downs.
I am not inspired by any of it anymore. Slowly I’ve slipped into an existence that matches that of those who live their days for watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix to escape this region’s effervescent nothingness. I am that person now.
I have so little energy left by sundown to do anything but stream Gilmore Girls and troll the internet.
(Have you guys tried LinkedIn for trolling? Oh my Lord, the amount of “professional” idiots on LinkedIn that you can upset with simple statements like, “Wow! Thank you! This data will help me achieve a higher ROI on life today, thank you again!” is astronomical. Try it, it’s the wild west of self-aggrandizing behavior.)
It’s difficult to remain inspired and prolifically productive for many walks of life when I’m surrounded by many mother fuckers and hacks in my own community who live high off the hog fucking others over for a buck, eat pride cereal, smoke positivity sticks, or are snorting on something I can’t even label properly.
I don’t know anymore if this is the place I want to burn out and die. Maybe that’s all of America at this point, and not just here? People seem out of their fucking minds, everywhere. Am I right? Of course I am, who am I kidding?
I’m over two decades into this shit, and no human being can solely keep up the prolific pace of work produced for others. Basically, I’m done with all of this. It’s pointless. 22 years is enough. I’ve helped and met great people, gotten to make records which is all I’ve ever wanted to do since discovering my parents vinyl collection in the late 70s; but, due to the amount of work I’ve taken on in the last decade alone, I’ve blindly let a few scumbags and snakes get me good. I did learn how to have the last word. Sadly, I also learned how to act exactly like those I truly despise.
Alleviating this problem has been easy in 2016. I took comfort in the Chicago Cubs, like many of us, and discovered online gambling. Fanduel.com is the future for making your own financial opportunities! I also discovered Netflix and the video gaming culture to escape my region’s abundance of ignorance. Plus, and importantly, I’ve also discovered how happiness is easy to achieve when you stop giving a fuck about everyone else. It really works. Try it if you’re fried to the fucking bone. Give up, quit helping others and help yourself become the best burned out bum ever.
We are a nation of selfish people that caters to ignorance, laziness, and self-entitlement. I’m hoping this new path that I’m creating for myself will reward eternal happiness and fuck-all sentiments.
Thank you, 2016! IT wasn’t all that bad, wow. I’m going to be the best selfish me in 2017. Fuck y’all! 2017 is the year of ME, mother fuckers— ME, ME, ME, YOU$A™! That’s right, ya dick eatin’ ad firm owning, pony ridin’ GOP party Kremlin creepers and scumbags.
METAL PANTIES®, PROUD PONIES and SEVERED SNAKES.
Pet those puppies real good in 2017, and create the best internet posts ever to express yourselves, your business and crafts, in the most self-aggrandizing ways possible.