May 2013. The beginnings of an excellent adventure.
Greetings fellow earthlings. We’d like to congratulate you. Chances are if you are reading this, you are literate. You deserve some fresh snaps for that. (If you actually aren’t and your patient great aunt Fran is narrating this for you, kudos for trying anyway) You are probably wondering what qualifications do we have under our karate belts to present you with this accomplishment. Well. We are the original Radical Men. And if you are reading this, you are witnessing something truly special; the birth of our majestic zine.
Birth; it is always a slightly sensitive topic. Nobody likes to hear the tales of red, naked and usually blind offspring being hauled from their mother’s vagina, so we will save you the gory detail. Just know that the birth of Rad Men occurred in Brisbane’s Queen Street Mall. We sat in a food court; not actually eating. Some would call it poetic irony, we would call it poetic wankerdom. Next to us was a burly sort of fellow, the type who eats red meat every night and takes a large shit of patriotism every time his rugby team wins an international title. I don’t entirely know why I am giving you a stereotyped analysis of our food court neighbor; I think he just felt like a pertinent influence that afternoon.
You may be wondering what the flipping feces is a Rad Man. It is a philosophy much like Buddhism; it was reached upon hours of steady meditation and under the constant gaze of an unfortunately average bloke/Bodhi tree. For your digression, we have compiled a complete definition that is totally going to be included soon in the Oxford English Dictionary. Yet in summary, Rad Men are basically people that piss excellence. Here at the RM headquarters, that is what we are all about.
The truth is we had both long ached for something like Rad Men to complete our lives via cyber-sphere. We ached for something that we could relate to as the twisted little individuals that we are. We’re a bit old for Rookie, a little too impatient for Frankie and just too cynical to even consider anything else that is relatively well known. We wanted a publication (preferably free) that didn’t care about our gender, sex, age or even deeper comprehension of Simpsons references; we just wanted a good read that was just as fresh, droll and sarcastic as we were and we wanted it served up with a mandatory killer sense of lolz.
Sadly, until recently no such entity known as Rad Men existed. Until one day we threw our hands up to the sky; whipped our hair more profusely than that little bitch Willow Smith ever has, and screamed JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL. Nek minut the clouds began to violently spin and suddenly Jesus’ face was looking at us through the clouds and his voice boomed and the sun shone and we smiled and he said “you are the original rad men.” And then the ghost of Steve Irwin came along and gave us high fives. The end.
This month we hope to make a fit first impression onto you. In fact, in May we shall be revolving about an entire theme of ‘First Impressions’ and in embracing those delightfully awkward and coy first moments, the kind that Michael Cera’s career are made of. We’ll be posting three times a week: on Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the anointed hour of 7pm (Brisbane time ie. the future for everyone else).
Look out this May, dear reader. We think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Kobi & Sarah