Posts

Posted on

East End Presidential Election

JOE JUKIC — CHAPLAIN’S ANNOUNCEMENT
East End Chapter Presidential Poll
“Let the righteous vote, and let the wicked stay silent.”

Brothers,

This is your chaplain speaking — Joe Jukic, the reverend with a revved-up V-twin and a Revelation tattoo on my ribcage. Before I lead the next Sunday burnout and say grace over our ribs and bourbon, I’ve got Heaven’s Orders and Hell’s Permission to conduct a sacred, blood-oath-level poll:

Who shall be president of the East End Chapter?

Our chapter’s been running strong, but every crew needs a captain when the road forks between purgatory and paradise. You all know we don’t do democracy the way the suits do — we don’t trust ballots unless they’re burned, stamped in oil, or blessed by tire smoke and loyalty.

But this is your chance to speak, and I’m watching. Heaven is recording. And so is the street.

REMEMBER: This ain’t just about who wears the patch. It’s about who holds the flame. Who keeps the wolves in line. Who talks to God when the gas tank’s empty and we’re rolling into a town full of devils.

Vote with your gut. Vote with your scars. And if the FBI asks, tell ’em we’re choosing a new mascot.

Blessed be the rebels.

– JCJ, Chaplain of the Hell’s Angels, East End Chapter
“The Lord is my shepherd, but I ride with the sheepdogs.” ?️?✝️

East End Chapter Presidential Election
  • Add your answer
Results

My pick is Tony. He has the club house if we buy his parents plane tickets to Portugal. -- JCJ

© Kama
What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

Saints of Los Angeles

Mötley Crüe had always loved Vancouver. It wasn’t just the city’s world-class recording studios or its rock-loving fans—it was the wild nights, the neon-lit streets, and most of all, the strip bars. The Saints of Los Angeles had a second home in the city, a place where excess and debauchery felt right at home. And among the haunts they loved, one name stood above the rest: Brandy’s.

Brandy’s wasn’t just any strip club. It was where rockstars and outlaws rubbed shoulders, where the women were the best in the business, and where the drinks flowed like a never-ending encore. The East Van Saints, a notorious group of street legends with their own brand of outlaw charm, had long made Brandy’s their stomping ground. They were the kind of guys who didn’t bow to anyone, but when Mötley Crüe came through, there was a mutual respect. After all, the Crüe weren’t just rockstars—they were legends cut from the same cloth.

One night in the late ’80s, after tearing the roof off the Pacific Coliseum, Vince Neil, Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, and Mick Mars rolled into Brandy’s like conquering kings. The club erupted in cheers, dancers lined up to entertain, and the whiskey never stopped flowing. Among the regulars that night were the East Van Saints, watching from their usual corner, nodding in approval as the rock gods held court.

“They play hard, they live hard,” one of the Saints muttered, raising his glass to Nikki Sixx, who was already deep into another bottle of Jack.

“They ain’t just Saints of L.A. tonight,” another said with a grin. “They’re honorary Saints of East Van.”

The night turned into a blur of stories, laughter, and promises of mayhem. Tommy Lee hopped behind the club’s DJ booth, spinning tracks while Vince Neil led a singalong that had the entire club shaking. Mick Mars, quiet but grinning, leaned over to one of the East Van Saints and muttered, “This place reminds me of home.”

By dawn, as the city started waking up, Mötley Crüe and the East Van Saints staggered out into the early morning streets, bound by a night of excess that would go down in legend. Years later, when the Crüe released Saints of Los Angeles, those who knew whispered that it wasn’t just about L.A.—it was a nod to those wild nights in Vancouver, to the Saints of East Van who stood shoulder to shoulder with rock’s most notorious band.

Because some saints don’t pray. Some saints raise hell.

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)
Posted on

U2 – The Saints

The stage lights of the Superdome blazed down as Bono and Billie Joe Armstrong stood together, guitars slung over their shoulders, the crowd roaring in anticipation. This was more than a performance—it was a call to arms, a tribute, a cry for justice. When U2 and Green Day covered The Saints Are Coming in 2006, it was a lament for New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. But within the song’s chords and fury, another silent nod echoed—a tribute to the East Van Saints.

East Vancouver, a world away from the floodwaters of Louisiana, had its own storms. The neighborhood, known for its grit, resilience, and struggle, bore witness to a different kind of disaster—one of addiction, poverty, and systemic neglect. The East Van Saints was more than just a moniker; it was a symbol of the fighters, the fallen, and the forgotten, those who tried to rise despite the weight of the city pressing down on them.

Bono, ever the storyteller, had walked the streets of East Van before. He had seen the alleys where lost souls wandered, the murals that screamed defiance, the makeshift memorials for those who didn’t make it. He had spoken with local activists, listened to their stories, and recognized a tragic symmetry—New Orleans had drowned in water; East Van was drowning in something just as deadly.

As the opening chords of The Saints Are Coming rang out, the lyrics took on a new weight. Originally a song about a soldier’s death, the meaning had evolved. The hurricane’s devastation was one chapter, but the refrain carried the pain of every broken city, every place where people waited for salvation that never came. In East Van, just like in the Lower Ninth Ward, the question remained—where was the help? Where were the saints?

During a backstage interview after the performance, Billie Joe, ever the punk poet, reflected on the song’s meaning. “The world is full of East Vans,” he said. “Places where the system fails its people. Places where hope is currency, and people are flat broke.” Bono nodded in agreement, adding, “We sing for New Orleans, we sing for East Van, we sing for anyone who’s ever waited for rescue and realized they had to save themselves.”

Later that night, as the band packed up their gear, a street artist in East Vancouver tagged a fresh mural. A silhouette of a marching band, its members fading like ghosts into the night, with the words scrawled beneath: The saints are coming… but will they ever arrive?

What do you think of this post?
  • Awesome (0)
  • Interesting (0)
  • Useful (0)
  • Boring (0)
  • Sucks (0)