Buckle up for Manifesto Maravillado’s latest Weekend BigBoy! Dive into grease-slicked chaos, roaring engines, sci-fi escapades, and rebellious garage punk madness. Led by The Great Ape, this ride promises cosmic mayhem, chrome glory, and full-throttle rebellion.

Hold onto your Helmets, My Monkeys of Mayhem, because this Weekend BigBoy is a souped-up cocktail of chaos and rebellion! We’re stripping away the mundane, kicking tradition to the curb, and diving straight into the grease-slicked heart of Manifesto Maravillado madness. Think roaring engines, retro sci-fi drama, and enough chrome to blind the stars.

I, The Great Ape, am your trusted conductor of this unhinged symphony of rubber-burning speed and cosmic thrills. Together, we’ll ride alongside hotrod heroes, rebel rockers, and neon-streaked outlaws. We’ll challenge the rules of reality, bend the metal of history, and leave skid marks across the face of convention.

Expect cosmic riffs, blistering action, and machine-driven mayhem, where retro-futurism collides with the primal roar of rebellion. This edition is packed to the brim with legends of the underground, tales of cosmic high-stakes chases, and the pure, unapologetic grit of de-evolved genius.

So, polish that chrome, rev the engines, and let’s tear into the night. No maps, no mercy—just wild speed and an appetite for cosmic pandemonium.

Welcome to the ride of your life—this is Manifesto Maravillado, and The Great Ape has the wheel!

I’m more interested in why the guy in the background is scrambling up that palm tree. What’s he know that the relaxed guy doesn’t know? Only Samson Pollen knew for sure.

In 1962, photographer Bert Stern, at the peak of his career, embarked on a mission to photograph Marilyn Monroe in what would become one of the most iconic celebrity photo sessions ever. Unlike many high-profile shoots of the era, Stern arrived armed with little more than his trusted Nikon F camera to capture Monroe’s essence, offering a raw, unfiltered portrayal of Hollywood’s biggest star.

The images from this session—known as the “Last Sitting”—would become indelibly etched in the cultural consciousness. Tragically, Monroe would pass away just six weeks after this shoot, adding a poignant layer to the already evocative photographs and cementing their legendary status. Stern’s lens captured Monroe in moments of joy, vulnerability, and unguarded intimacy, turning each frame into a timeless piece of history.

The Nikon F camera, used in this and many other iconic shoots, would go on to symbolize bold creativity in the hands of countless legends, from Clint Eastwood to Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, and even contemporary icons like Lady Gaga. It became a tool that transcended time, much like the photographs it helped produce.

Life’s a Gasser!

John, Alf or Yoko … Who is the most annoying!?!?

Craig Breedlove

Last week, we were on the edge of our seats with Episode 4: “Spy in Space,” where Colonel Steve Zodiac and his crew on the Fireball XL5 uncovered a secret plot that threatened to topple Galactic Security itself! With undercover missions, cosmic espionage, and high-stakes interstellar chases, it was everything a retro space-age adventure should be—pulse-pounding, gadget-filled, and full of devious twists. By the end, our heroes managed to save the galaxy yet again, proving that no alien spy can match the wit and courage of Fireball XL5’s fearless team!

This week, in Episode 5: “The Doomed Planet,” the stakes are higher than ever as Steve, Robert the Robot, Doctor Venus, and Professor Matic are sent to a mysterious planet on the verge of destruction. The crew finds themselves racing against the clock, battling unknown forces and natural disasters as they scramble to save the doomed world from an impending cosmic catastrophe. There’s no time to lose, and every second counts as our brave crew faces perils that only the bold and resourceful Fireball XL5 team can handle.

Expect explosive action, daring escapes, and some serious sci-fi drama as Fireball XL5 takes off on yet another unforgettable mission! Get ready for the thrill of a lifetime—grab your helmets, fire up the engines, and hold on tight, because the Fireball XL5 is headed for danger, and you won’t want to miss a second!

In 1981, Tom Petty went to battle with his record label, MCA Records, over the pricing of his fourth album with the Heartbreakers, Hard Promises. MCA wanted to price the album at a then-unheard-of $9.98, compared to the standard $8.98, a move they called “superstar pricing.” But Petty, who had always stood for his fans, refused to go along with it. He felt that raising prices would alienate the people who supported his music, and he wasn’t afraid to push back.

The standoff became public, drawing widespread attention and solidifying Petty’s reputation as a defender of both artistic and consumer rights. At one point, Petty even threatened to withhold the album entirely or rename it The 8.98 Album to make his point. The conflict symbolized Petty’s commitment to keeping music accessible, no matter the pressure from corporate powers.

After weeks of back-and-forth, MCA relented and agreed to release Hard Promises at the lower price. The album itself was a triumph, featuring hits like “The Waiting” and “A Woman in Love (It’s Not Me)”, and its success underscored Petty’s belief in standing up for what’s right. This episode reinforced Tom Petty’s image as an artist willing to go to bat for his fans, a voice of the working class who put people before profit.

It’s a painting by Peter·Bruce Gale in 1562… 300 years before we supposedly knew anything about dinosaurs.

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die”

Earl Norem

Vivian Maier — New York, NY, c.1955

Thirst for Hurst

Carrie Fisher and her stunt double, Tracey Eddon, on set sun bathing in 1983 during the filming of Return of the Jedi.

Earl Norem

Julie Newmar

Earl Norem

Oh Lilly!

Sid Vicious wasn’t exactly a rock god—he was more of a punk antihero, embodying a raw, unfiltered version of rebellion that felt honest, if a little doomed. Born John Simon Ritchie, he joined the Sex Pistols in 1977, stepping in as bassist more for his attitude than his musical chops. Sid was never a natural musician, and he often struggled to even play his parts live. But that hardly mattered in the punk scene. His chaotic energy, spiky hair, and scowling face made him an emblem of everything the movement wanted to reject—complacency, conformity, and polished perfection.

Sid’s rise to punk notoriety was both spectacular and sad. He wasn’t so much a musical prodigy as he was a kid caught up in the whirlwind of fame, drugs, and a lifestyle that was as dangerous as it was seductive. Joining the Pistols may have given him a place to belong, but it also threw him into a world where his vulnerabilities were amplified, and his story quickly veered into tragedy. Sid’s infamous relationship with Nancy Spungen and his subsequent descent into addiction painted a picture of a young man out of his depth, drowning in the very excess he thought would set him free.

Ebet Roberts’ 1978 photograph captures Sid as he was—a little rough around the edges, a bit broken, and maybe even a touch lost. It’s a snapshot that speaks to the raw, almost naïve defiance that made him stand out, but also hints at the emptiness beneath the sneer. Sid wasn’t a carefully crafted persona; he was a kid with nowhere else to go, thrust into the spotlight of a scene that celebrated his worst impulses.

In the end, Sid’s legacy isn’t that of a brilliant musician or a glamorous star but of a troubled figure caught in a cultural moment that suited him perfectly, even as it devoured him. He remains a tragic symbol of punk’s reckless spirit—unfiltered, chaotic, and ultimately self-destructive. His life serves as a reminder that behind the spikes and snarls, there’s often just a person trying to figure it all out, stumbling in a world that chews up the vulnerable and spits them out.

Old rivals

Hoping to catch something big. Pin-up art by Bill Medcalf.

On October 23, 1954, Elvis Presley took a major leap in his music career as his rendition of “Blue Moon of Kentucky” climbed to #6 on the Billboard chart in Nashville and #3 in New Orleans. This moment wasn’t just another chart success; it was the first time Elvis had reached a Billboard chart outside of Memphis, marking his breakthrough into the wider rock and roll scene. Originally a slow waltz by Bill Monroe, Elvis’s innovative take on the song, transforming it into an upbeat, bluesy 4/4 tune, highlighted his talent for reimagining traditional music with a fresh, electrifying twist.

The reimagined “Blue Moon of Kentucky” wasn’t just a cover—it was a genre-blending revolution. With this track, Elvis bridged the worlds of country and rock, helping to shape the emerging sound of popular music in the 1950s. His unique vocal style, combined with the song’s infectious rhythm, demonstrated the crossover potential of country music and introduced a whole new audience to the genre. This fusion was emblematic of the broader cultural shifts of the mid-20th century, as rock and roll began to signal a departure from traditional forms, capturing the energy of a generation hungry for something bold and new.

As Elvis’s career progressed, so did his influence on American culture. Following “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” hits like “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Hound Dog,” and “Don’t Be Cruel” catapulted him to stardom. His live performances, with their energetic choreography and magnetic stage presence, set a new standard for what a music show could be. Elvis didn’t just sing—he connected with his audience on a visceral level, embodying the rebellion and freedom that defined rock and roll.

“Blue Moon of Kentucky” did more than just rise up the charts. It bridged the gap between country and rock, paving the way for countless artists to explore this crossover potential. Legends like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson would later build on this blend of styles, contributing to a genre-fluid musical landscape. Elvis’s impact went beyond music; he became a cultural icon in an era defined by the rise of youth culture and the clash with tradition. His persona symbolized a new generation’s voice, one that pushed boundaries and redefined norms.

Elvis’s journey from a young performer in Memphis to a global icon started with milestones like “Blue Moon of Kentucky.” This song didn’t just showcase his talent—it signaled the beginning of a musical revolution. Today, as we remember Elvis’s legacy, we look back on that pivotal day in October 1954 when he began his ascent to the national stage, forever changing the course of popular music.

Monica Vitti and Marcello Mastroianni in the film La Notte 1961.

Merchant of Speed…

Ah, the classic Rocky and Bullwinkle humor at its finest! One of the show’s best gags was that Rocky, the sharp-witted flying squirrel, could never quite pin down the identities of Boris and Natasha despite recognizing their voices. This little running joke added an extra layer of absurdity, as the villains would show up in every episode with paper-thin disguises and exaggerated accents, only for Rocky to remain blissfully unaware.

In one memorable storyline, Rocky actually figures out who they are and is on the brink of revealing their identities to everyone—but, in perfect Bullwinkle fashion, he’s hit with a “dumbifying” spell just in time to prevent the big reveal. It’s the sort of clever, self-aware humor that made the show so appealing to both kids and adults, playing with expectations and poking fun at the conventions of cartoon villains. Boris and Natasha’s perpetual cover-ups and Rocky’s near-misses became an iconic element, embodying the show’s sly commentary on the genre itself.

The 1950 Ford Muroc Concept Car is a rare, sleek vision of postwar automotive design, capturing the bold, innovative spirit of early 1950s concept cars. Named after Muroc Dry Lake in California, a hotbed for high-speed testing and racing, this car was crafted to showcase Ford’s cutting-edge engineering and forward-thinking design at the time. Although it’s lesser-known compared to some concept cars of the era, the Muroc concept remains a fascinating piece of automotive history and an example of the experimental approach Ford was willing to take in the early postwar years.

Styled with the streamlined elegance typical of the 1950s, the Muroc featured long, sweeping lines and an aerodynamic profile that evoked speed even when standing still. Its front grille was understated, in contrast to the bold, jet-inspired designs that would come later in the decade, giving the car a distinctive, refined appearance. This was a vehicle that combined the functionality of a high-speed racer with the aesthetics of a luxury cruiser.

Under the hood, the Muroc concept was rumored to house a high-performance V8 engine, reflecting Ford’s focus on powerful, American-built engines during this era. While details about its exact specifications remain scarce, the Muroc was designed to convey strength and speed in line with its namesake racing location. Ford intended this concept to inspire the American driver’s imagination, showcasing what the future of Ford’s performance and design philosophy might look like.

The interior of the Muroc was crafted with comfort and style in mind, aimed at providing a luxurious driving experience. Leather upholstery, chrome details, and a futuristic dashboard layout added to its allure, aligning with Ford’s goal to blend performance with elegance. This interior design philosophy would later influence Ford’s luxury lines and highlight the company’s commitment to creating cars that were as pleasurable to sit in as they were to drive.

Although the Muroc concept never made it to mass production, it served as a testbed for design ideas that Ford and other automakers would explore in the 1950s and beyond. Today, the Muroc concept car stands as a rare symbol of Ford’s ambitious postwar vision, capturing the optimism of an era when cars weren’t just vehicles—they were statements of American innovation and style.

Helmut Newton

The Bluebird-Proteus CN7 was an extraordinary feat of engineering, crafted to push the boundaries of speed and innovation. This sleek, futuristic machine was powered by a Bristol-Siddeley Proteus gas turbine engine, designed to produce immense power and help achieve record-breaking speeds. Built in the early 1960s, the CN7 was intended to reclaim the land speed record for Donald Campbell, son of legendary speed record holder Sir Malcolm Campbell.

The journey to success wasn’t straightforward. Campbell first attempted to break the record in 1963, but his efforts were hampered by weather conditions and an unfortunate crash, which left both the vehicle and driver damaged. However, Campbell’s unwavering determination drove him back to Lake Eyre, Australia in 1964, where he hoped the vast, flat salt pan would provide the ideal surface for an attempt.

On July 17, 1964, Campbell piloted the Bluebird-Proteus CN7 to a staggering speed of 403.10 mph (648.73 km/h), setting a new world land speed record. This accomplishment made him the only person at that time to hold both the land and water speed records simultaneously—a testament to his fearless spirit and the relentless pursuit of his family’s legacy. The Bluebird-Proteus CN7 became a symbol of British engineering prowess and human endurance, marking an unforgettable moment in the history of speed records.

Though advancements in land speed vehicles have since eclipsed the CN7’s record, the legacy of Campbell’s achievement and the iconic image of the Bluebird blazing across Lake Eyre remains a powerful reminder of an era driven by innovation, ambition, and the desire to conquer the limits of speed.

Debs – She’s a Fave!

You wanna know more?
Debbie Harry: The Iconic Rebel of Punk Rock and Pop Culture – Manifesto Maravillado

Cousin Cornelius …

Earl Norem

Behind the scenes – Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla 1974

Glen Orbik.

Theodore Roosevelt “Hound Dog” Taylor (April 12, 1915 – December 17, 1975) was a larger-than-life figure in the world of Chicago blues, known for his raw, energetic guitar playing and his captivating stage presence. With his six-string slide guitar and gritty voice, he had a way of urging crowds to get up, dance, and lose themselves in the music. Taylor’s style was unpolished but powerful, and he quickly became one of Chicago’s most beloved bluesmen.

Born with polydactylism, Taylor had six fingers on each hand. The extra digits were little more than rudimentary nubbins, unable to move, but they added to his unique persona. In a moment of drunken impulsivity, Taylor reportedly cut off the extra finger on his right hand with a straight razor—a story as raw and wild as his music.

Taylor earned the nickname “Hound Dog” due to his reputation for being quite the ladies’ man—always on the hunt, much like the name suggests. This moniker became part of his identity, and Hound Dog Taylor was born, a name that would come to represent his wild, untamed spirit in the blues scene.

Known for his relentless performances, Taylor always encouraged his audience to get on their feet and join in the fun. With his band, The HouseRockers, he laid down tracks that were as rough and ready as they come, leaving a legacy that continues to influence blues and rock musicians to this day.

Juggernaut had to set the record straight for the farmboy.

Leo Fender (August 10, 1909 – March 21, 1991) was a genius who transformed the music world, yet he never played a single note himself. That’s right—Leo couldn’t play guitar, bass, or any other instrument. Instead, his innovations were driven by an obsession with sound and a desire to create tools that would help musicians express themselves. This unique perspective—designing from an outsider’s point of view—allowed him to break conventions and reinvent what instruments could be.

The journey began with the Fender Telecaster, the first commercially successful solid-body electric guitar. At a time when most guitars were hollow-bodied and prone to feedback at higher volumes, Leo’s solid-body design allowed players to crank up the volume without distortion. While the Telecaster set a new standard, it was his next creation, the Fender Stratocaster, that became a cultural icon. The Strat’s contoured body, innovative three-pickup system, and tremolo bridge made it instantly recognizable and versatile—qualities that attracted legends like Jimi Hendrix, Buddy Holly, and Eric Clapton.

Leo also pioneered the electric bass with the Precision Bass (P-Bass), solving a longstanding issue for bass players who struggled to be heard in large bands and orchestras. The Precision Bass wasn’t just a louder bass; it was a tool that gave bassists new freedom to shape the music’s rhythm and groove. The instrument’s ease of play and portability revolutionized rhythm sections across genres, making it a staple in everything from jazz and blues to rock and Motown.

Fender was known for being a relentless tinkerer. His workshop was filled with gadgets and contraptions he’d invented himself to test and refine his designs. He often wore hearing aids, yet he could still detect subtle tonal differences by feeling the vibrations of his creations. This hyper-focus led to the Jazzmaster and Jaguar, two guitars that catered to experimental players and offered unique tones later favored by surf rockers and indie bands.

Leo’s contributions to amplification are equally legendary. The Fender Bassman amp, initially designed for bassists, became a secret weapon for guitar players due to its punchy, warm tone, influencing iconic amplifiers like Marshall in Britain. The Twin Reverb and Super Reverb amps provided guitarists with clean, powerful tones that became essential for rock, country, and blues. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s signature sound, for example, was built on the Super Reverb’s powerful, bluesy tones.

Despite being one of the most important figures in music history, Leo was incredibly humble and uninterested in fame. He never even put his signature on the headstock of his guitars—a tradition that’s since changed. Even after he sold Fender in 1965, he kept working and founded G&L (George & Leo) Guitars, where he continued innovating until his final years. Leo’s designs for G&L—such as the Magnetic Field Design pickups and Dual-Fulcrum Tremolo—are considered by many to be his crowning achievements.

Leo Fender’s work was revolutionary not because he set out to create a legacy, but because he set out to solve problems. His instruments were made to be reliable, affordable, and expressive—qualities that have made them the backbone of modern music for over half a century. Without ever playing a single note, Leo Fender gave generations of musicians the tools to make magic. He didn’t just design instruments; he crafted the soundtracks of our lives.

“I bid you .. RISE!!” Silver Surfer #1 (Vol. 1; 1968; Marvel Comics)
Origin of the Silver Surfer!”

Universal Monsters by Alex Ross

Come out to play …

William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and Teri Garr (RIP) in Star Trek episode Assignment: Earth (1968).

Raquel Welch photographed by Terry O’Neill on the set of Bluebeard, 1972

Ed Valigursky art for “Crashing Suns” by Edmond Hamilton

Jeffrey Lee Pierce was the enigmatic frontman of The Gun Club, a band that tore through the 1980s punk and post-punk scenes with an explosive mix of blues, punk, and rockabilly that no one had ever quite heard before. Born on June 27, 1958, Pierce was an oddball music fan from the start, obsessed with Delta blues, reggae, rockabilly, and glam rock. He grew up in Los Angeles, where his early interests drew him to the fringes of music culture—and eventually led him to create one of the most unique sounds in punk history.

Pierce started out as a superfan and president of the Blondie fan club in Los Angeles, and it was his fascination with both Debbie Harry and roots music that laid the foundation for his future band. When he formed The Gun Club in 1979, Pierce had a vision of fusing the grit and pain of traditional blues with the raw energy of punk—a combination that turned heads and set The Gun Club apart from other bands in LA’s punk scene.

With The Gun Club, Pierce and his bandmates—among them punk icon Kid Congo Powers and guitarist Ward Dotson—took audiences on a wild ride, blending haunting blues riffs with relentless punk aggression. Their 1981 debut album, Fire of Love, is often cited as one of the best punk records of the decade, a sinister yet soulful record that featured Pierce’s tortured lyrics and a sound soaked in the spirit of Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson. Songs like “Sex Beat,” “She’s Like Heroin to Me,” and “Preaching the Blues” were visceral and dark, yet strangely beautiful, capturing the essence of Pierce’s struggle with his own demons.

Pierce’s life was as chaotic and intense as his music. His voice—part growl, part wail—felt like an open wound, channeling his inner conflicts, addictions, and heartbreak. He often described his music as an exorcism, and his lyrics delved deep into themes of love, pain, and the mystique of the American South, a region he romanticized but rarely saw firsthand. Pierce was haunted by personal issues, particularly with substance abuse, and his health and relationships deteriorated over the years, often mirroring the dark themes he explored in his music.

In the mid-’80s, after the initial success of Fire of Love and its follow-up, Miami (produced by Blondie’s Chris Stein), Pierce’s life took a more tumultuous turn. He bounced between bands, cities, and even musical styles, exploring reggae, country, and Mexican folk influences, though his identity as a musician always remained rooted in the blues. Albums like The Las Vegas Story (1984) showcased his ability to grow as an artist, pushing his sound into stranger, more melancholic territory while staying true to The Gun Club’s punk-blues spirit.

Jeffrey Lee Pierce’s legacy is one of a musician who lived on the edge, both artistically and personally. Although he battled illness and addiction throughout his life, he continued to release music that resonated with its brutal honesty and raw emotion. By the early ‘90s, his health was failing, but he managed to put out more work, including solo projects, until he passed away in 1996 at the age of 37 from a brain hemorrhage.

Today, Jeffrey Lee Pierce is remembered as a cult hero, a pioneer of punk-blues, and a troubled genius who left an indelible mark on alternative music. His influence can be heard in artists across genres—from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to The White Stripes. His life may have been cut short, but Pierce’s music continues to haunt and inspire, a testament to his restless soul and his search for beauty within the darkness.

For fans of music that blurs the lines between punk, blues, and the macabre, The Gun Club—and Pierce’s own journey—is a treasure trove waiting to be discovered, filled with songs that resonate with raw power, heartbreak, and a little bit of danger.

XA GT Hardtop … Green is Nice!

Coles New World Redcliffe Pde Redcliffe QLD, 1960s.

Mort Kunstler

Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly’s iconic partnership in the classic musical Singin’ in the Rain (1952) remains a highlight of American cinema, capturing the essence of the Golden Age of Hollywood with breathtaking choreography and unforgettable performances. Directed by Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly, this film has become a benchmark for musicals, celebrated for its lively songs, innovative choreography, and rich depiction of Hollywood’s transition from silent films to “talkies” in the late 1920s. Amid this historic setting, Charisse and Kelly’s duet in the “Broadway Melody” sequence stands as a masterclass in performance, showcasing the chemistry and talent that made them legendary.

Filmed on MGM’s largest soundstage, the scene featured an elaborate dream sequence set that brought the fantasy to life. Cyd Charisse, known for her grace and technical skill, recalled the lengths to which the production went to create the illusion of her flowing cape. Large fans blew at full blast, giving her performance an ethereal, wind-swept quality. “It was like being in a wind tunnel,” Charisse noted, highlighting the technical challenges dancers faced to achieve MGM’s high production values. This meticulous attention to detail was part of MGM’s commitment to creating visually stunning spectacles, using innovative techniques that elevated the audience’s experience.

Gene Kelly wasn’t just a star; he was a visionary choreographer and director who redefined dance on film by blending ballet, jazz, and popular dance styles into an expressive, dynamic form. His choreography in Singin’ in the Rain is both athletic and romantic, perfectly balancing homage to classic musicals with a modern sensibility. The synergy between Kelly and Charisse was undeniable; together, they created a captivating and seamless performance that was enhanced by the film’s lush cinematography, which showcased their fluid movements and the vibrant colors of their costumes.

The cultural impact of Singin’ in the Rain is immense. The film has become a cultural touchstone, referenced and celebrated in media for decades. It’s not just a tribute to the art of dance and performance but also a nostalgic look at a transformative period in Hollywood history. Charisse and Kelly’s performances have influenced generations of artists and filmmakers, ensuring their legacy endures. As Charisse once remarked, “It’s a love letter to the musicals of the past, wrapped in the joy of dance and the exuberance of Hollywood.” This sentiment captures the spirit of a film that continues to resonate with audiences worldwide.

Looking back on the contributions of Cyd Charisse and Gene Kelly, we see the profound influence they had on musical cinema. Their roles in Singin’ in the Rain stand as a testament to their artistry and the creative spirit of their era. Through their collaboration, they didn’t just entertain—they redefined the possibilities of dance on film. Their legacy serves as a reminder of dance’s power to tell stories and evoke emotions, bridging the gap between screen and viewer. For every new generation that discovers this classic, the magic of Charisse and Kelly continues to inspire, keeping the timeless allure of dance and music alive in the tapestry of cinema history.

On May 26, 1977, New York City was captivated by a daring spectacle as George Willig, famously known as the “Human Fly,” scaled the 110-story south tower of the World Trade Center. Climbing the iconic skyscraper with only his hands, feet, and pure grit, Willig ascended the structure in a tank top and jeans, embodying a unique blend of athleticism and rebellion. His climb wasn’t just about reaching the top; it was a statement of human determination, the thrill of urban adventure, and a challenge to the limits of possibility.

As Willig inched his way up the tower, a crowd gathered below, growing by the minute. Some onlookers cheered in awe, captivated by his bravery, while others watched with concern, feeling the tension between the thrill and the danger of his stunt. The police responded quickly, setting up safety nets and preparing for his apprehension as he neared the top. Willig’s ascent quickly turned into a media sensation, putting the spotlight on both the climber’s audacity and the World Trade Center’s status as a symbol of ambition and architectural marvel.

When Willig finally reached the observation deck, he was met by both applause from spectators and handcuffs from the authorities. Charged with several offenses, he nonetheless became a cultural icon, representing an era fascinated by high-stakes stunts and the allure of extreme feats. His climb wasn’t just a personal achievement; it resonated with a generation inspired by the spirit of pushing boundaries and embracing the unknown.

Willig’s climb lives on as a legendary moment in urban exploration, a testament to the risks and rewards of challenging the heights of human ambition. It wasn’t just about scaling a building—it was about embodying the spirit of adventure and daring that defined a time when people were willing to go to great lengths (and heights) to make a statement.

Frank Kelly Freas 1957

Ain’t he neat…

Sick’em…

Temptation…

St Louis June 1972 – Number #1 Losers Hero – E.K.

Frank’s Concert Rider…. Nice, a Carton of Camels non filtered …

The Hirohata Mercury

Carrie Fisher and her stunt double with Harrison Ford’s stunt double at the beach, 1982

The Pierson Brothers’ 1934 Ford Coupe

The Pierson Brothers’ 1934 Ford Coupe stands as one of the most celebrated hot rods in automotive history, embodying the pursuit of speed and aerodynamics. Built in the late 1940s by brothers Bob and Dick Pierson, this radically chopped three-window coupe took the California dry lakes by storm and became a symbol of innovation and excellence in hot rod engineering. It was a car built with purpose, designed to shatter records at the dry lakes and later at the Bonneville Salt Flats.

Wanna know more???
The Pierson Brothers’ 1934 Ford Coupe – A Straight-Line Legend – Manifesto Maravillado

The Ambushers (1967) – A Groovy Spy-Fi Ride through the Swinging Sixties

Step into the world of psychedelic spy thrillers with The Ambushers, a swinging and delightfully campy entry in the cult-favorite Matt Helm series, starring Dean Martin. This 1967 film cranks up the espionage antics and laughs, as Martin reprises his role as Helm, a suave secret agent with a penchant for wisecracks, women, and wild gadgets. Helm’s mission? To thwart a nefarious plot involving a hijacked flying saucer—the kind of high-stakes, tongue-in-cheek chaos that only Helm can handle.

The movie is a kaleidoscope of sixties kitsch and outrageous set pieces, packed with over-the-top villains, daring rescues, and the kind of outrageous humor that defined the spy-fi genre of the era. Fans of lowbrow comedy, glamorous secret agents, and swinging sixties style will revel in every minute of this groovy escapade.

So, if you’re in the mood for flashy costumes, retro-futuristic gadgets, and plenty of playful double entendres, buckle up—The Ambushers delivers a wildly entertaining ride through a galaxy of laughs, with Dean Martin’s signature charm steering the way. It’s pure retro chaos, served with a martini—shaken, not stirred, of course!

Julie Adams and the Creature from the Black Lagoon

Lou Kimmel Art

Ford’s SubTropolis: A Secret Automotive Wonderland Beneath Kansas City

Hidden 160 feet below Kansas City, Missouri, lies a sprawling underground network of tunnels and chambers known as SubTropolis. Originally an old limestone mine dating back to the 1940s, this subterranean labyrinth has since evolved into a unique, climate-controlled storage haven. With temperatures ranging from a stable 68 to 72 degrees Fahrenheit year-round and humidity levels holding at a comfortable 40 percent, SubTropolis is an ideal storage environment for everything from documents to, in Ford’s case, automotive parts and even entire cars.

The story of Ford’s use of SubTropolis goes back decades. An article from Ford’s Kansas City News employee newsletter, dated August 30, 1965, announced the completion of a new parts storage area with the humorous headline, “Parts Storage Area Completed After 560,000,000 Years.” This marked the beginning of Ford’s use of 82,000 square feet within SubTropolis, primarily to support its Kansas City Assembly Plant, which had been built in 1951. Just a month later, Ford organized a “Ford Family Showing,” inviting 5,000 people into the caves to get a sneak peek at the 1966 automotive lineup in this awe-inspiring underground setting.

By April 1969, with the introduction of the Ford Maverick (for the 1970 model year), SubTropolis became even more integral to Ford’s operations. The Kansas City Assembly Plant in Claycomo was the main production hub for the Maverick throughout its run until 1977, and the model was temporarily stored in this underground facility before hitting dealerships across America. The secure, climate-stable conditions of SubTropolis made it the perfect storage site, safeguarding these iconic cars from the elements.

Ford’s relationship with SubTropolis has continued strong for over six decades. Today, Ford’s Kansas City Assembly Plant has moved to an adjacent location, creating what’s often called Automotive Alley—a sprawling business district that has SubTropolis as its “basement.” Above ground, Ford has expanded its infrastructure, including the North American Vehicle Logistics (NAVL) facility, which operates right beside the caves. This interconnected setup allows Ford to seamlessly move vehicles and parts between production and storage, making it a key logistical asset.

By transforming Tornado Alley into Automotive Alley, Ford has taken advantage of this underground marvel, blending innovation, practicality, and a touch of mystery. SubTropolis remains an impressive feat of adaptation, where the company has turned a once-forgotten limestone mine into a strategic storage powerhouse beneath Kansas City.

“Sometimes you need to get lost to find your way”

Give me the Willys

Yvonne Craig

The Saints Live at Paddington Town Hall, April 1977 stands as a gritty, raw slice of punk rock history. This legendary performance, recorded live in the height of the Australian punk explosion, captures The Saints at their ferocious best, just months after releasing their debut album, (I’m) Stranded. At this point, the Brisbane band, led by Chris Bailey and Ed Kuepper, had already earned a reputation as one of the most intense and uncompromising bands on the scene, delivering a sound that was rough, loud, and unapologetically rebellious.

The Paddington Town Hall show was a defining moment—not just for The Saints, but for Australian punk as a whole. The recording captures the raw energy of the gig, with a crowd of fans surging, pogoing, and shouting along with every song. The Saints weren’t just playing music; they were delivering a sonic assault that tore through the hall. Tracks like “I’m Stranded,” “Nights in Venice,” and “Demolition Girl” ripped through the air, each a jagged, powerful anthem that left no doubt about The Saints’ punk credentials.

This show encapsulated the spirit of punk rock at its most primal—fast, loud, and dangerous. The Saints didn’t just play their songs; they attacked them, with Bailey’s sneering vocals and Kuepper’s aggressive, unhinged guitar riffs pushing the crowd to the edge. In a year dominated by the UK and US punk scenes, The Saints were a reminder that punk wasn’t bound by geography—it was a global uprising, and Australia had its own voice in the rebellion.

Live at Paddington Town Hall, April 1977 was eventually released decades later, giving fans a chance to experience the unfiltered power of The Saints in their prime. It’s more than just a live album; it’s a time capsule, a reminder of a night when The Saints tore the roof off Paddington Town Hall and cemented their place in punk rock history.

_Mort Kunstler

On December 13, 1972, Harrison H. Schmitt, a geologist turned astronaut, became a part of space history as he studied a massive lunar boulder during the Apollo 17 mission. This mission was groundbreaking—not only was it the final crewed lunar landing in NASA’s Apollo program, but Schmitt was also the first and only scientist to set foot on the Moon. His background in geology brought a new layer of scientific insight to lunar exploration, as he meticulously examined the Moon’s surface, searching for clues that could unravel its composition and geological history.

The scene of Schmitt analyzing the boulder in the Taurus-Littrow valley, with the lunar rover in the backdrop, captures the technological strides that enabled the astronauts to extend their range across the Moon. This particular boulder was more than just a rock—it was a key to understanding the Moon’s volcanic past and its formation. By analyzing samples from it, Schmitt hoped to uncover details about the age and origins of the Moon’s surface, adding invaluable knowledge to our understanding of the solar system’s history.

Schmitt’s work during Apollo 17 demonstrated the profound impact that a scientist could have on planetary exploration, establishing a precedent for future missions. The samples he collected still fuel scientific studies today, continuing to shed light on lunar geology and even informing the planning for future manned missions, like those to Mars. This iconic moment—Schmitt, the scientist-astronaut, kneeling before a lunar boulder—embodies the Apollo program’s spirit of discovery and highlights the monumental progress made in exploring worlds beyond our own.

Behind the Scenes …

Some People are Greedy!

Oh Jayne!

Dinner is served. Art from a 1995 Vampirella gallery card painted by Earl Norem.

Did you know that just five months after crashing spectacularly at Wembley Stadium, Evel Knievel was back in the saddle and ready to conquer the air again? That’s right—on October 25, 1975, with his body still healing from a broken pelvis, a fractured back, a busted wrist, and an ankle that had seen better days, Evel lined up at Kings Island in Ohio, aiming to clear not one, not two, but 14 massive buses. Wembley had been brutal, but Knievel wasn’t one to let a little thing like gravity (or bones snapping like twigs) stop him.

Sporting his iconic star-spangled jumpsuit, the daredevil legend looked every bit the American superhero, with the crowd buzzing in anticipation and nervous energy. They had all seen the footage of him crashing at Wembley, but now they watched with bated breath as the man they called “the last gladiator” revved up his Harley, preparing to cheat death one more time.

With a roar of the engine, he tore down the ramp, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Knievel launched himself into the sky, his bike practically flying over the gap, with the American flag waving proudly in the background. It wasn’t just a jump—it was a declaration of defiance. And this time, he nailed the landing. The crowd erupted as Knievel touched down, triumphant and unbroken.

Evel’s jump over those 14 buses wasn’t just a stunt; it was a statement: you can knock me down, but I’ll get back up—and make it look damn good while I do it. The Kings Island jump went down in the history books, and for many, it cemented Knievel as more than a daredevil. He was a myth in the making, a man who seemed to thrive on dancing with disaster and laughing in the face of fear.

In a world where most of us stick to speed limits, Evel Knievel was out there rewriting the laws of physics, leaving the rest of us to wonder: what if we all lived a little more like that?

B. Nonomura, Los Angeles lawyer, wearing the life belt which he invented for his trip home to Japan. The twin screws, turned by the hand crank, drives wearer 10 m.p.h.

Michael Koelsch

Ewoks…

The Ford Seattle-ite XXI, introduced at the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair, was one of the most futuristic concept cars of its time—a vision of what automobiles might look like in the 21st century. Conceived by Ford’s design team, this remarkable vehicle was less a car and more a sci-fi daydream on wheels. With its sharp, jet-age lines, modular design, and audacious predictions, the Seattle-ite XXI reflected both the optimism and the boundless imagination of the early 1960s.

The Seattle-ite XXI didn’t just feature futuristic styling; it boasted groundbreaking features that were far ahead of its time. Ford envisioned this car with modular engines—meaning the powertrain could be swapped out depending on the type of driving. This concept, though ambitious for the 1960s, hinted at a world where drivers could choose different engines or power sources as easily as selecting an option on a menu.

The most audacious feature of the Seattle-ite XXI was its proposed nuclear power option! Although it was purely speculative, Ford teased the idea of a nuclear-powered car, tapping into the atomic age fascination that gripped the post-war world. The vehicle was also imagined to feature four-wheel steering, a design choice that allowed for better maneuverability, and computer navigation systems—essentially an early prediction of today’s GPS.

The interior was as forward-thinking as the rest of the car. Ford imagined the dashboard would be a fully digital information center, displaying real-time stats, directions, and maybe even “futuristic communication systems”—decades before the idea of digital screens became mainstream. The car was also supposed to come equipped with interchangeable body panels, allowing drivers to easily modify or update the vehicle’s appearance.

Ultimately, the Seattle-ite XXI remained a concept and was never intended for production. But its legacy endures as a symbol of 1960s optimism and the era’s fixation on the possibilities of technology. It’s a stunning reminder of how we once imagined the future—a gleaming, atomic-powered vision that blended the practical with the fantastical.

Ed Emshwiller

He is the guy to beat!

If you know you know …

French Art Deco on Wheels 1930 Majestic motorcycle with Bernadet sidecar.

The 1930 Majestic motorcycle with a Bernadet sidecar is nothing short of a French Art Deco masterpiece on wheels, and it remains a dazzling anomaly in the history of motorcycle design. Created during an era when motorcycle styling leaned heavily on tradition, the Majestic dared to be different with a streamlined, monocoque chassis that screamed futurism.

It wasn’t just designed to look sleek; it was built that way because Georges Roy, the mastermind behind this machine, believed in radical innovation. Roy detested the tubular frames typical of motorcycles at the time, considering them too flexible, so he constructed the Majestic using sheet steel, forming a monocoque structure that housed the drivetrain, making it not only rigid but strikingly modern.

Unveiled to a captivated audience at the 1929 Paris Motor Show, the Majestic was more than just a bike; it was a statement. Manufactured by Delachanal, it entered production in 1930 but faced resistance from traditionalist motorcyclists of the pre-war era who preferred the familiar. By 1933, production had ceased, and the Majestic became a rare treasure—a visionary concept that was simply ahead of its time. Today, however, this motorcycle stands as a beacon of inspiration, particularly for custom builders drawn to its bold departure from convention.

One of the very few surviving Majestics, this particular model has been lovingly restored by Serge Bueno of Heroes Motors in Los Angeles. With the Majestic in his family for three decades, Bueno embarked on a meticulous, five-month restoration project, clocking in eight-hour days to revive this unique machine. Rebuilding the 500cc Chaise overhead-valve engine was challenging, but it was nothing compared to the painstaking work required to restore the rusted, monocoque bodywork—a task made even harder due to the lack of original parts. With only old photographs for reference, the Majestic was reborn, looking as flawless as it must have when it first hit the road nearly 90 years ago.

Adding to its allure is the Bernadet sidecar, a rare and beautifully crafted accessory from the esteemed French sidecar maker. This variant, believed to be a version of the Tourisme Grand Sport model, boasts an aerodynamic design that weighs only 23 kilos (50 pounds). It also features a Dunlopillo latex foam seat, which was an innovative touch back in the 1930s, offering a level of comfort previously unheard of in sidecars.

Motorcycle historians estimate that perhaps only ten Majestics still exist, making this example an exceedingly rare piece of two-wheeled art. For those who were fortunate enough to visit the famed Art of the Motorcycle exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum in 1998, one of these Majestics was proudly on display, showcasing its daring Art Deco aesthetic to a new generation of admirers. The Majestic wasn’t just a motorcycle; it was—and remains—a bold vision of what motorcycles could be, a reminder that sometimes, the most daring ideas take decades to be fully appreciated.

Mort Kuntsler 60s

What could possibly go wrong!?!

This year, we celebrate the 70th anniversary of Ishirō Honda’s Godzilla, the film that sparked a worldwide phenomenon and forever cemented Japan’s place in the annals of monster movie history. Released in 1954, Godzilla wasn’t just a creature feature—it was a cultural milestone that spoke to the anxieties of a post-war Japan grappling with the nuclear age. With its somber tones and awe-inspiring visuals, Godzilla gave birth to the kaiju genre, introducing audiences to a creature that was both terrifying and tragically symbolic.

Waxwork Records is honoring this cinematic titan with a special vinyl release of Godzilla, meticulously re-mastered and approved by Toho Studios. This deluxe edition comes pressed on colored vinyl, encased in a gatefold jacket with a luxurious matte satin finish, and adorned with all-new artwork by Robert Sammelin. The attention to detail is a fitting tribute to a film that set the bar for monster movies and inspired generations of fans and filmmakers alike.

Godzilla wasn’t just a monster movie—it was a powerful statement on humanity’s hubris and the consequences of atomic power. Honda’s direction brought depth to the destruction, transforming a giant monster rampaging through Tokyo into an allegory for the devastation wrought by war. Seventy years later, Godzilla remains as impactful as ever, its haunting imagery and themes still relevant in today’s world. This release by Waxwork Records invites us to relive the spectacle and the sorrow of Honda’s masterpiece, a film that roared its way into our hearts and never left.

Stunt coordinator Peter Diamond

James Bond 007 ‘Live and Let Die’, 1973 Gloria Hendry

Mikkey Dee: The Relentless Thunder Behind Motörhead

Mikkey Dee, born Micael Kiriakos Delaoglou on October 31, 1963, in Gothenburg, Sweden, became a legendary force in rock drumming, especially renowned for his blistering work with Motörhead. Known for his explosive, no-nonsense drumming style and remarkable stamina, Mikkey’s contribution to Motörhead’s sound made him an irreplaceable part of the band’s identity during his years with them.

After stints with other bands, including King Diamond (where he earned a reputation as one of the fiercest drummers in the metal scene), Mikkey joined Motörhead in 1992, stepping into the drummer’s seat during a time of transition. His first album with the band was “March ör Die”, but it was with “Bastards” (1993) that he truly left his mark, pushing the band’s sonic aggression to new heights. Mikkey quickly became the perfect match for Lemmy Kilmister’s raw bass and Phil Campbell’s powerful guitar riffs.

With Motörhead, Mikkey Dee played on a string of killer albums, including “Inferno,” “Kiss of Death,” “Motorizer,” and “Bad Magic.” His drumming wasn’t just a backdrop for the band—it was a relentless, driving force that elevated their sound to legendary status. His ability to keep up with Motörhead’s infamous volume and energy made him an anchor on stage and in the studio. When Mikkey was behind the kit, fans knew they were getting the full-throttle, unapologetic Motörhead experience.

Mikkey’s style is a mix of speed, precision, and sheer power, fitting perfectly with Motörhead’s brand of punk-infused heavy metal. His use of the double bass pedal, particularly on tracks like “Sacrifice,” made him a standout in the genre. He approached each show as if it were his last, hammering through Motörhead’s setlists with the kind of energy that left audiences breathless. As Lemmy once said, “Mikkey’s got two speeds: fast and faster.”

Mikkey remained with Motörhead until Lemmy’s passing in 2015, marking the end of an era. His loyalty to the band, even through the toughest of times, showcased his dedication not just as a drummer but as a true rock soldier. He always gave 110%, whether they were playing small clubs or massive festivals, treating every beat as if it were the heartbeat of Motörhead itself.

After Motörhead, Mikkey continued to rock on, joining Scorpions in 2016. But no matter where he goes, he’ll always be remembered as Motörhead’s relentless, powerhouse drummer, a man who helped shape the thunderous sound that defined one of rock’s greatest bands.

Happy Birthday Big Fella!

Bat Break

George Gross

Greedo wearing pumps behind the scenes

Ed Vebell

Virgil Finlay cover.

Yoda and his creator

“Trouble on Titan” (1954) by Alan E. Nourse. Cover art by Alex Schomburg.

Private SNAFU – Rumors is one of the classic wartime cartoons produced by Warner Bros. during World War II. This 1943 short, directed by Friz Freleng and written by none other than Dr. Seuss (Theodor Geisel), was part of a series of educational and entertaining films created specifically for the U.S. military. The character Private SNAFU was designed to represent the typical soldier who makes every mistake possible, thus teaching troops what not to do.

In Rumors, SNAFU learns the hard way about the dangers of spreading misinformation. The film opens with SNAFU hearing an unfounded rumor about enemy advancements. He wastes no time spreading this juicy bit of gossip around the base, embellishing details and fueling paranoia. As the rumor grows, it spreads panic and confusion among the troops, ultimately leading to chaos.

The cartoon cleverly uses humor to convey a serious message about the impact of rumors and the importance of reliable communication during wartime. It reminds soldiers to think before speaking and to avoid spreading unverified information. By showing how one rumor can spiral out of control, the film underscores the potential damage that misinformation can cause, even to national security.

Private SNAFU – Rumors combines slapstick comedy with a strong moral lesson, typical of the Private SNAFU series. It’s a fascinating piece of propaganda cinema that demonstrates how animation was used to educate and influence soldiers, and it’s a testament to the creativity of the writers and animators who made these films both entertaining and instructional.

BTW (If you did not know)
SNAFU is a military acronym that stands for “Situation Normal: All F*ed Up.”**
It originated during World War II as military slang to describe chaotic or problematic situations that were, ironically, considered normal or routine. The term became widely popularized through the Private SNAFU cartoon series, which humorously depicted a bumbling soldier constantly finding himself in messy situations.

In the context of the cartoons, Private SNAFU was meant to represent the “everyman” soldier who made mistakes, serving as a humorous way to teach troops what not to do.

Congratulations on further de-evolving with this Week-end BigBoy, You owe me a Banana!

Manifesto Maravillado – The Marvelous Manifest – isn’t just a zine; it’s a full-throttle trip through chrome-drenched mayhem, sci-fi escapades, and rebellious counter-culture chaos. It’s a collision of past, present, and future—a pulse-pounding mix of garage punk, retro nostalgia, and that wild, untamed spirit that only de-evolution can deliver.

With me, The Great Ape, at the wheel, we don’t just glimpse the absurd—we become one with it. This is where B-movie brilliance and raw, anarchic art reign supreme. The grease of the drag strip meets neon dreams, and every turn of the page invites you into a twisted realm of pop culture’s most fantastical fringes. Expect rubber beasts, rocket-fueled exploits, and a cosmic carnival of rebellious imagination.

Picture it: characters leaping from the page, stories that roar with DIY spirit, and pinup icons daring you to follow. Cosmic capers, rock-and-roll anthems, and a nod to rebellion’s raw edge—all wrapped up in a gritty, adrenaline-fueled package. This is where retro-futurism and primal chaos collide, bringing every bit of madness to life.

This is Manifesto Maravillado—the battle cry for the proudly wild, the unapologetically offbeat, and the eternally daring. Here, de-evolution isn’t just a tagline; it’s our destination. So, gear up and hang tight, because we’re charging forward at breakneck speed into a realm of cosmic anarchy.

And don’t swagger too far—next week’s BigBoy promises even more pandemonium. Stay tuned for more Monkey Business and we navigate the lush jungle of the MM Great Ape’s mind.