Skateboarders have unique and consistent responses to many stimuli. When we arrive in new places, we scan the environment for spots, imagining what could be done. When we hear a rolling skateboard in the distance, our focus immediately breaks. When we see someone wearing basketball shorts at the skatepark, we judge their fashion choices.
For those of us who spend more time than necessary on message boards, seeing or hearing something within the realm of skateboarding baring even vague familiarity can trigger an “ABD,” or “already-been-done” response. These responses are born from attempts to be the first to notice something. Our dissecting eyes look beyond obvious ABD tricks and into music, graphics and even clothing or production styles. And in our consistent attempts to ruin the fun for everyone, our scope often ends up going beyond the realm of skateboarding.
Hearing a song from a skate video in a commercial or movie triggers me to immediately identify who skated to it and in what video. If I ever find myself at a department store, the newest clothing trends have me reminding myself, whether it be true or not, that “skateboarding did it first”: skinny jeans, all-over prints, brown cords and flannels, five-panel hats, stupid socks, cargo camo pants. Unfortunately, the ABD pastime acts as a two-way street and can become self-sabotaging to skateboarding. Perhaps the most well-known example involving Zero Skateboards and the movie Toy Story.
Released in November of 1995, Toy Story had a memorable antagonist in Sid, a neighborhood youth set on destroying every toy he came across. As expected from a mid-90’s animated film, Sid’s appearance is fairly basic, with his only real discerning characteristics being the odd shape his head and a skull graphic on his t-shirt. This skull graphic, however, is virtually identical to the early branding of Zero, which formed in 1996.
This exact controversy still occasionally comes up in online discussions, but I would like to think that the skateboard community as a whole has forgiven Jamie Thomas.
The true detectives who are reading will eventually realize that it has taken me 349 words to eventually arrive at the point that this two-way street of ABDs has again manifested an unfortunate truth.
Released in November of 1990, Home Alone will remain as perhaps one of the greatest movies ever made, but only as long as semi-adult males like myself and my friends continue to reference it. Shortly after the McCallister family has left for their vacation to France, their forgotten son Kevin wakes up to an empty home. As he begins exploring his empty home he briefly enters Buzz’s, his brooding older brother’s bedroom with the same level of trepidation plaguing me as I write these sentences.
Yes, the light switch cover in Buzz’s bedroom bears an uncanny resemblance to a Toy Machine graphic, most commonly used as a top graphic on decks. This is really nothing interesting, and there’s a good chance this graphic existed as something else before.