Sakebomb isn't so much a company as an epic journey, the final destination of which remains unknown. These pages collected here are but temporary points along the way; charting our course through a sea of 5 cocktail lunches and perpetual misdemeanor, an ocean of good ideas infested with life's little swimming delicacies- best eaten raw. Onward we sail.


Shanghai, Drunky. Perfect. What can I say. This homepage is fucking perfect. Joe got the waves quote stuck in my head, so you can thank him for that.


If you thought this photo of MDA posed with a beer on my backyard ramp with Lucas Fleischer in mid ass-drop is in anyway faked or composited, you are wrong. And you are dumb, this is true sakebomb magic and you can't front. And that's my dad's panda. I'll cut you.


You know the sad truth: we didn't drive that Caprice in the Cannonball Run. They gave us a purple PT Cruiser with wood paneling. Oof. But Joe is looking good. At least we all still know how to laugh, bitchface.


Damn this is a good home page. Miyuki and Claude, how can you go wrong? Add Adam G. and Cesar in a wig and you are even more not wrong. This one makes me cry sometimes.


This was posted on the road, right as everything in the world seemed to be changing. Crazy times. The home page image is one of the first timer shots taken with my digital camera: our rides after a lunch meeting in West LA.


I was at our travel agent, picking up plane tickets, when I saw this picture on the back of magazine. I stole it, scanned it, and put the drunk monkey on the side of the scooter. That's Molly's dog, Slothy, and a sick Impala wagon.


My old Nokia cell phone was forever set on the obnoxious- yet somehow enjoyable- 'robot dance party' ring setting. When I invited everyone to the robot dance party in my pants, I was just speaking figuratively, as such parties did often occur deep in the pockets of my pants. There was no real party. But we were at our friend Paz's house in the photo. Roots!


Two interesting photos: the background was taken in Utah, during an epic road trip to Colorado from the cockpit of the intrepid 95 Civ-dog. It was then, of course, run with our ever creative "sakebomb everthing red make" look, and placed with a picture of an actual motorcycle cop who posed for Slap Maxwell on his 97 Sapporo Ramen tour. I'm not sure about this fascination with death.


These amazing photos were taken by the amazing Neil Siri on New Year's Eve, 1998, in frothy Westwood, California. That's Paul, aka the Masked Munger, and Greg, aka Duct Tape Man, enjoying a good shimmy. We ended up going to some girl's parent's house that night, essentially crashing an otherwise respectable shin-dig with far too much booze and fancy deli trays. Siri always spells trouble.


All we had at this point was the company profile. That's Glick and Paul in one of my favorite photo's (by Ruben Fleischer), and the infamous Cool Duk Seven and Sleazy G on a hotel rooftop, Vegas, Defcon 6. The bike was lit on fire, ridden, and surfed during a Samizdat stunt photo shoot on my highschool blacktop. Madness.

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