by Tizz Baller

The Mayans have doomed our shit to utter oblivion and Dick Clark fuckin kicked it. The only logical recourse is a summer-long, barefoot, rage-fest. The kind of all out shit-storm that laws have be amended for and peeps catch cases over. But you can’t roll solo during the world’s last days. You gotta have a wild ass wingman to help you keep shit poppin. That my friends, would be us. is blackout central! When we’re around, SHIT GOES DOWN! Every show, every festival, every venue on the east coast…Veni Vidi Vichi Mah-fucka! So you might be asking yourself, “What exactly do the guys over at WWH do?”. Well, if the website full of face-melting flix didn’t do it for ya, here’s the breakdown. We record, for posterity, all of your most depraved and amazeballs moments, and post that shit right here for the whole world to see. Beyond that you might catch us going hard in the crowd, poppin off on a stage, or pouring a bottle of Andre on a bittie. Regardless, we’re leaving with bitches! Our squad is comprised of talented photographers, designers, writers and party animals who’s main focus is to bring you the scoop on where and how to rage.

So now that you know the deal, go buy yourself a tent, quit your shitty summer job, start selling t-shirts, and get out on the road with us. Our upcoming events are listed to the right, the features page has killer reviews, and we got all the photos you can’t tell your mama about. Seriously, I would not fuck with the Mayans! Didn’t you see Apocalypto!? Those cats died!

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *