Wolf Marine

Ask Wolf Marine

ez — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 04:28:44 +0000

Dear Senor Wolf Marine,

Where the hell were you born? Are you asexual? Do you have a mother?

Signed,

Ron

PS If I’m right, I get tickets to a Cubs game and a Sports Illustrated Football phone.

Saturn, eating kids and shit. Yuck. But Goya, what the fuck, he don't even look like no god I know. Shit.

There was this time when the Wolf Marine wrestled with Saturn. True fucking story. Saturn, as you may remember from the works of the masters… (that Spanish fuck Goya, for example) that Saturn was afraid one of his kids would like kill him and shits. Yeah, so the story goes that the Wolf Marine gets fucking wind of this shit and is like, “Okay Saturn what you gonna do?” The Wolf Marine says he walks up to fucking Saturn and Saturn was fucking eating a baby, no fucking joke, it was fucking nasty. That son of a bitch. So the Wolf Marine is fucking pissed as hell and fucking tells Saturn that his days of muching shit like that is over. Fucking Wolf Marine rips his fucking jawbone off, like fucking Samson killing fucking Philistines with the jawbone of an ass and shit the Wolf Marine then beats Saturn with his own fucking jaw. No joke. Saturn survives, gets his jaw fucking wired back like he some Dennis Byrd (former defensive end for the fucking Jets, hallowed be thy names) and retires to Whippany. What was you asking bout Ron, oh yeah… where did the Wolf Marine come from? Don’t fucking matter, he been here forever. He was kicking it with JC and wearing Cazal 607s before anyone else. He’s old school.

Dear Wolf Marine,

There are a group of kids at my high school who always snicker at me. Their parents are rich and they are into art and they get to go to all the cool shows and have cool clothes and such. I’m tired of being left out, but every time I try to show up at a club or something I get laughed at. What should I do?

Signed,

Alex Chilton

Yeah, like Andy would have found Basquiat on his own. Whatever.

The Wolf Marine always says this one thing, whenever you can get him talking about deep shits(hint: get him some of that fucking Yuengling from Philly) and it’s really the only fucking time you hear him open up like this. Rich people are cunts. They don’t know, they just don’t fucking know. You think that the cool motherfuckers ever come from fucking money? Not really… you might say that fucking Edie Sedgewick or something was cool. Maybe. The Wolf Marine always said Warhol wouldn’t let him into the Factory and shit. Even though the Wolf Marine is the one who came up with “Samo Was Here” and fucking Basquiat become Warhol’s bosom buddy in later years and shit. Whatever, piss under the urinal cake and shit. The Wolf Marine ain’t no bitter Pons and Fleischman, Tommy Lasorda type. No, fuck those kids. You think clothes make you cool? You think getting into clubs at sixteen and doing blow scored off some skeezy old dude make you a worthwhile human being. Fuck no. Take a deep breath. These broads be all rotted out bitches that ain’t nobody want when they older. The dudes will be preying on kids and bitter that they ain’t matter to the fucking world no more. They be like Clay’s friends in Less Than Zero, fucking raping people and doing really messed up shit to get kicks. Stay inside, fucking read books and remember that you’re getting some fucking James Brown, Eddie Kendricks type soul that those motherfuckers will never have. Do the Wolf Marine proud and keep your head up. One day people the world over will hear some song you wrote (for example) and they’ll be like “I’m in love… what’s that song? I’m in love, with that song.”

Dear Mr Wolf Marine,

I am in a pickle and when I say “pickle” I sure as hell don’t mean Claussen. It’s this girl, I like her and I’ve told her this, but she doesn’t seem to like me. Instead she insists we remain friends and maybe someday something will happen. It tortures me, Mr Marine, every damn time I see her. She is the image of poise and grace and everything lovely and I just don’t know what to do. Should I tell her that we either have to persue this or that we can’t even be friends, because whenever I look at her, my heart hurts.

Thanks,

Richie “Lovesick” Deckard

Fucking Gwen Sefain, after she rips off the fucking Vandals (Oi to the world and shit) decides she wants to be her. Whatever, stupid Scorsese let's her do it in The Aviator. Fucking mistake, Martin. Pearls before swine.

The Wolf Marine tells this story, about the time he decided to climb to the top of the world. Little did anyone know that he did it before Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, cause he did it way back in the eleventh century. He ain’t make a big deal out of it because it involved some fucking time travel so it ain’t exactly fair. Plus, that fucker don’t brag about shit, you know? He’s badass, he’s so fucking badass you can fucking feel it when he’s fucking looking into your eyes… deep brown pools of hugs and grill cheese and tomato soup by the fire side… wait, what the fuck was I saying, shit. Okay, so anyway, the Wolf Marine is fucking in love with this broad, I won’t mention her name, but let’s just say she came back from a trip to the riviera with a tan and that supposedly kicked off the whole “tan is in” thing way back when. Whatever. Anyway, she didn’t want to give the Wolf Marine the fucking time of day, she fucking said “we’re just friends and shit”. The Wolf Marine says his fucking heart cried, his fucking heart wept in the lonesome night and it hurt so damn bad whenever he saw her that he just had to fucking do something. It wasn’t like the other chicks, it wasn’t like Jean Harlow when she blew him off, this was fucking serious. So this broad tells the Wolf Marine to bring back the head of a Yeti to prove to her he was serious. Well fucking hell, the Wolf Marine just so happened to have been poking around the Vatican library and found this thing about how the last living Yeti lived in the Himilayas and shit. Bad news was he fucking died in the 1000s and the last people to talk to him were part of the eastern church and since the great schism in fucking 1054, no one heard shit about him. So the Wolf Marine bribes the pope to use the holy time machine and fucking goes back and fucking climbs mount everest. Alone. But when he gets to the top, he nearly dies in an avalanche. What saves him? The fucking Yeti. Turns out the Yeti is one cool mother fucker, his name is Bruce and he’s all chill, fucking into smoking weed and mediating. Who knew, right? So the Wolf Marine lets out his tale and the Yeti, Bruce, says, “I was in love once, you know. They don’t talk about it, but it’s true.” Bruce goes on to say that it wasn’t like that. They both fucking knew right away. So maybe, and Bruce couldn’t say that was the only way love worked, but maybe what The Wolf Marine felt for Coco Chanel, er… shit… well anyway what the Wolf Marine felt for that broad might not have been love. Maybe the Wolf Marine was wrong. Wolf Marine couldn’t fucking kill the Yeti now, so he went back and told Coco that there was no fucking Yeti and that if she loved him, he wouldn’t have to prove himself. Same goes for you, this ain’t no fucking Gordan Gano song, but… don’t let the Wolf Marine be your voice. Think about it, you know.

Who knows, maybe love… maybe love takes time?

Dear Wolf Marine,

What’s the worst band you’ve ever heard?

Signed,

Ryan S

Ryan S, you ending this thing on a sad note. The Wolf Marine has his opinion sure, but it’s always changing. One day he says that fucking the Beatles were the best and “shut the fuck up”, the next day he says that fucking Zeppelin or fucking Pavement was the best. There ain;t no best, you know? If you just want to be snobby and pretend you’re better than other people okay. The Wolf Marine understands that some people need to be snobby just to feel good about themselves. It’s okay, just accept it. Why you want to be such an ass about this shit? Let it be what it is, you know. If some dude wear stupid clothes and a dumb band shirt, let him be. Maybe you give him a Uncle Tupelo CD, maybe you tell him that there’s more to the world, but shit, no one is perfect right? The Wolf Marine fucking never listened to Radiohead, you know that? He was fucking into Saetia and Small Brown Bike and fucking watching the Jets lose another few seasons when those dudes made OK Computer and Kid A, you wanna make fun of him? Whatever. Don’t be a douche. Shit. I’ll say it if no one else will, you a bigger asshole than that dude that caught that ball during that pennant race cubs game a few years back. You know, somebody turned you on to Vice magazine and shit. You weren’t born cool. Some people don’t even have access to them shits. Internet don’t fix everything. You just sound like you were born with two assholes: the one you shit with and the one you shit out words with. Grow the fuck up.

Ask Wolf Marine

ez — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 16:56:06 +0000

The Wolf Marine knows that there is no dog hell, cept maybe if you're Goebbel's dog or something. They killed him testing cyanide for Hitler. Shit.

Well, dear reader, it was only a matter of time. A matter of time until the Wolf Marine’s rants would be recorded for posterity. So, now (and we will see how the response goes), the first available Wolf Marine podcast (and theme song) are available for your enjoyment. This should be available on iTunes soon (pending approval).

Right click or Apple + Click to save. Or use the player at the top of the page.

The Wolf Marine Podcast

The Wolf Marine Theme Song

Dear Mr Wolf Marine,

My doggie just died and I’m very sad. My uncle said that since there was no god, there is no dog heaven and my doggie is just no more. He’s in the ground and he is now food for worms. I know you said you don’t know if there is a god, do you know if there is a doggie heaven?

Thank you,

Tommy

The Wolf Marine can’t say there is or is not a human heaven. Seems like it would be pretty fucking ridiculous… especially as Harry fucking Carey died and the Cubs ain’t win no World Series. Shit, that seems pretty fucked up, but the Wolf Marine remembers lots of fucked up shit. Like the Berlin Wall and Pol Pot and shits. But dog heaven? Fuck, the Wolf Marine would swear on fucking Joe Namath’s sacred sideburns that there is a dog heaven. Shit you think dogs gonna die and be nothing? Fuck no, there is a dog heaven where dogs get like dog margaritas and lay out on the beach and play poker and shit. It’s like in the law code of Hammurabi. And this guy, your fucking uncle, tell him to watch his ass cause the next time he hears a howl, it’ll be either that someone broke J Mascis fingers (and fuck you, cause that would be a crime against humanity, fucking “The Lung” and shit) or the Wolf Marine is about to rip his fucking skull out. What the fuck is wrong with you? You reading too many Sarah Palin books, “Going Rouge”? Have a fucking heart.

Dear, dear Wolf Marine,

It has been some time since I entertained guests… I’m something of a hermit, you see and my work… well, my work keeps me far from prying eyes (for the most part). As a result, I am unsure of what to do in terms of food… it’s just that I do not want to be the type to entertain guests by ordering out to the local pizzeria. Anyway, I am certain you have some idea on how to provide for a wonderful evening.

Eternally grateful,

Edmund T Spooner

"all dogs, whence dead, shall go to a paradise where they sip margaritas and play poker and shit". See, it say's so right here.

Oh the Wolf Marine is a fucking genius of a chef. He can fucking tease your pallet better than a roasted duck striptease and shit. He’s like the the Vincent Gallo of cooking shit. Fucking genius. So the Wolf Marine has this recipe for delicious chicken that is sure to entertain your guests…. either that or they got them dead taste buds and shit, probably from huffing solvent in the back shed. Fuck. So here is the secret to Wolf Marine’s chicken:

Six skinless chicken breasts.
2 tablespoons salt
1 tablespoon fresh garlic.
1 cup lemon juice.
1/2 cup orange Gatorade.
1 stick butter.
1 40 oz bottle of Olde English.
1 Purple Dragon Joose.
1 DVD anniversary edition of Big Trouble in Little China.

In a pan, mix lemon juice, Gatorade, 1 stick butter, salt and garlic on medium-hot heat, cook for twenty to thirty minutes until the sauce thickens. Open Olde English. Turn on oven to 400 degrees and drink that fucking forty down to the label. Pour in purple Dragon juice. Start Big Trouble in Little China. You won’t finish it but that shit is fucking amazing. Funny and campy. Shit. Place chicken breasts in glass bakeware. Cover in sauce. Bake that shit for forty five minutes. Fucking finish that forty, we gots to get you in the mood to entertain. That usually means one thing: the wolf marine gets fucking tore up. Shit. But that caffeine in the Joose will kick your ass. If that ain’t working, take a few No-Doz and shit. After that timer goes off your chicken is ready. Server your guests some Brie, maybe baked in pastry, with some crackers and maybe some Gorgonzola and shit. Fuck. That shit be so damn good. Pull out your chicken, and get ready for a taste sensation that will blow your fucking teeth out. And fuck it, even if that party sucks, you got fucking John Carpenter. Kurt fucking Russel as Jack Burton and shit. He’s like Jesus riding a Harley.

Oh and PS, it sounds weird, but garnish that chicken with some orange flavored pop rocks.

Hey Wolf Fucker,

This is like Devin… well no, I mean some dude. Anyway, I got a bone to pick with you bro… no hassle, no hassle. Really no beef, well… okay some beef, but anyway, my bros want me to start long boarding to work, but someone told me that you are against that shit. Why all the hate, Wolf Marine? Love brother, love.

One love,

Devin

EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Devin, did I ever tell you about the time Wolf Marine hung out with Dave Matthews and got caught up in a game of hackey sack and they played with devil sticks and shit? No? Cause it will NEVER FUCKING HAPPEN. Dave Mathews is a fucking douche ass tard monkey whose only skill in life is writing plodding tunes to get into Burberry sweaters of North Carolina co-eds. Shit. You think he likes his douche-steeze? Fuck no, the Wolf Marine saw that tard years ago raving it up in Ibiza. Shit. You know why Wolf Marine hates fucking long boards? Cause they come with a fucking lifetime love of Dave Matthews and Sublime and all that stupid “bro” shit. Might as well come with a bong holder, and some hemp condoms cause that shit is lame. One world. Whatever, you too high to even know what that would mean. You think the world get by with your “bro ness” attitude? No, fucking no. Like the Brother From Another Planet, the world is fucked. Takes time and no amount of jam bands or pointless flip flop wearing, slow as hell, tard-boogeying (i.e long boarding) gonna fix that. It’s not like you’re so bent on your “world love” that you’re handing out water to starving kids in Somalia, so fuck you.