Shag's swinging Palm Springs art gallery (and Shag swag giveaway!)

Last weekend I went to Shag the Store in Palm Springs, California. A variety of art pieces by Shag were for sale, along with paintings up for a charity auction by artists who painted live at Coachella. Handbags, art books, home décor, and other items were also being sold. It was fun to walk around and view the art. You should definitely check it out if you’re in Palm Springs! (See below for Shag swag giveaway details).

Outside the store


Inside view of the store


Shag paintings for sale

Close up on some of the cool art





Artists who painted live at Coachella auctioned off their art here


Auction painting

Auction painting

Auction painting

I really liked this bear one, so I tried to draw it!

My version of the bear painting.




Various art items for sale


Unique painting that would look cool in any room!

Little doo-dads, CD holders, and art books

Some fun Tiki lamps to hang in a room



Cute stickers



The nice ladies who run the store



Me, Mark (my dad), and my little sister Jane in the store

Shag Swag Giveaway! The manager of Shag the Store kindly gave us some cool Shag swag to award to two Boing Boing readers. To enter to competition, write a 50-150 word story that takes places in Shag's swinging retrofuturistic world. Post the story in the comments. We'll pick our two favorites and send the goodies to the winning authors. Deadline is May 20 at midnight Pacific time.

• [Melissa Borders]

  Once there was a robot porcupine that was at a bar one night and a giant squid fell through the roof. The giant squid wanted to to give away a bunch of boongle berries to the one who could eat the  most pies; no rules were announced. These berries were robot porcupine’s favorite food. First bacon cinderella, the pig, tried to eat pies but only ate 15 of them. George Washington tried to eat pies but only ate 45. Robot porcupine new that there was tough competition, so he used his shrink gun that he bought at the Shag store to shrink the pies and gobbled 1,000 pies up. Since there were no rules, Robot Porcupine won the berries. The squid was angry (remember him?) that he cheated but then remembered he said there were no rules!

  Rules suck!

• [Melissa Borders]

  Above written by Maxine Borders, 8

• [William]

  Biff Bopp curled three pink fingers around his martini glass and looked at the speared olive.  It looked back at him and blinked the red pimento.

  “Oh, Pimento!  Thanks for the reminder!  I’m late for K. T. Katee’s party!”

  In a splash of hypersonic yellowosity, Biff jumped in his Hovee-car and sped across town — stopping once to buy a leopard print flower bouquet and another once to buy Megadalion wine.

  Even at crazy wahoo speed, there were already a dozen people crammed inside K. T. Katee’s party bubble.

  “Sorry, Biff,” K. T. said through the outdoor tube.  She looked at the now wilted flowers and the peeling label of the wine.  “Too slow.” 

  K. T. turned back to the party with a big teeth-filled smile.  Biff went back home and ate the olive, especially the pimento.

• [mimsy18]

  With a flick of a switch,  Jonquil Judy changed the lava rock adult beverage fountain from mai tais to sangria. Her purple eyes quickly scanned the room and surveyed her party guests.

  Using her hovercraft wedgies, she floated over to Robbie Rhododendron. “RR”, she purred and smoothed the label his living neon  jacket. “Great party, JJ”, Robbie replied, craning his neck to see the new guests in the oval doorway. “Oh,the twins.  That’s Polly  Plumeria and Franny Frangipani”, Judy said, “I must introduce you”.

  While her guests were engaged in conversation, acrobatics, party games, fire dancing, baton twirling and deep sea fishing, Judy couldn’t help but hug herself and sigh with pure contentment.

• [einsteinatthemall]

  The only impediment I have in getting down to Palm Springs is my car died yesterday, but will attempt a SHAG run sometime soon

• [Ed Savage]

  The driveway was lighted when they pulled up. The blue steel chrome on the door opened with the white and red door light exposing a long leg with a stiletto heel from the car.  The young astronaut pulled her close and walked her to the star burst entrance. The sliding passage gave way with “open”.   The lights raised up and the rumba started on the Hi-Fi. Laughter came from her ruby lips as Mr. Dashing loosened his tie.  RX145 was mixing the libations and pouring them with a mechanical wink.  The reflection of the aqua blue wave from the pool hit the ceiling just right.  It seemed the stars from the sky light hit her eyes as she looked out the glass wall. 

  ” ‘To you my kitten and the future of our new frontier!”  

  With a kiss blown and a come hither, the rockets to Saturn were leaving tonight.

• [Ray Gilmore]

  Aftermath
  By Ray Gilmore

  The snap of the turntable woke me from my dream. Outside the immense window of my pad, I saw that the sky was bright, the sun peeking over the city skyline. A new platter dropped to the turntable of my Hi-Fi and the jungle sounds of a Martin Denny tune echoed through my place. A few guests from last night’s bash were scattered around my apartment, sleeping off the revelry.
  Marcel was tucked away in a corner, a fez perched precariously on his bald dome. Dr. Zaius (not his real name, of course) was asleep at the Baby Grand, his ape mask inflating and deflating with each breath. Sophia on the couch still had a martini glass in her hand, half-filled with liquor and stained with lipstick. Others looked as if they simply dropped where they were when the lights went out. The gentle snores of my guests were comforting.
  I adjusted the collar of my Nehru jacket and stood up, feeling my head swim. Denny’s jungle jive was in full swing and I walked over to the Hi-Fi and turned it loud, Daddy-O. The freeloaders began to stir, rubbing their eyes and realizing where they were. I grabbed a pair of bongos and began to wail. The last stragglers grabbed their minks and bowties and am-scrayed. When the last of them were gone, I turned “Swamp Fire” to a smooth background hum.
  They had to go – I had a big day with my girl: Walt’s Kingdom beckoned.

• [okkent]

  The Invitation

  Come fly with me Judy, ’cause this hep cat daddy is off the pad tonight. We’re lining up a cool time of slick tunes and and ambient grooves  that will drain the dull from your skull. Fuel your rocket mister, light the torches sister and rake your carpet hipster, we’re here and it’s Zero hour. TANGO!

• [D.J. Coffman]

  It was closing time at Trader Don’s tiki bar in Palm Springs, but a few regulars still remained, bellied up to the bar drinking zombies and exchanging tales of the good old days.  It seemed for those lucky few, the doors were always open. One of the greatest tiki tall tales involved Elvis Presley arm wrestling Frank Sinatra in the back room, but that’s a story for another night. Tonight they’re toasting to the old “Oasis Inn” which used to be a hub for springtime tiki fun in the sun, but was abandoned in the 1980s, had a brief stint as a nudist colony in the early 90s, then was converted into low income apartments in Y2K. Now the old Oasis is finally meeting the wrecking ball after becoming low income crack houses for half a decade. Earl is being toasted as a hero for rescuing the old tiki totem from the pool area. It has some graffiti on it and has seen better days, but at least it’s still alive. Another old tiki saved. The toast is over. There are some sighs for the good old days, but then conversation returns to the rumor that if you look at an aerial view of the town you can make out a Tiki in the map meeting an Cahuilla Indian Princess. At least Don the Beachcomber used to say so. The regulars stay up examining the map and downing more zombies as the rest of the canyon sleeps. –
  By D.J. Coffman

• [ookluh]

  Zirks McPetrol gunned the saucer and
  cranked the tunes.  He was late to Gerry Tine’s party and he was bringing
  the booze.
  “Fuck!” he muttered, his mouth parts twitching nervously. 
  “I’m not going to make it before the Shear sisters get there, and they
  always get so tetchy without their sauce.”
  Just then red and blue light flickered frenetically in his rearview
  mirror.  Zirks grudgingly landed his Saucey 2000 next to a Brizon’s Bar
  and Zepp Scenetorium and waited for the police skiff to land beside him. 
  The officer approached Zirks’ Saucey and rapped on the bubble screen. 
  Zirks popped the latch, opened the bubble screen, and without another word
  devoured the offending officer.  “Not bad.  Too much pepper spray though,” he
  thought, as he zoomed off toward Gerry Tine’s pad.  He was still late, but at least now he was
  well fed. Sheb Wooley blared from the Saucey’s stereo.

• [Morgan Maher]

  Zip zap ring dang over the hill and there we go, down the lake, and at the deep end, a stream. Or cave or tunnel or funnel or tube or some kind of star lit portal. Twist again that rubix cube, that functioned as a handle. A Panda bear said comb your hair, and down the slide we went. Beep and click the tweets rushed in, updated scene by scene. Illuminated guardians removed their masks and danced between fine fire belts and swaying palms, convertibles and glamour blondes – we were whisked upon a stage.

  A bunch of crazed out aliens await in line for punch. 

• [psiwar]

  Whoever sounded the drums that the waterfront has some new blood with potential needs better eyeballs or a worse imagination.  Wharf rats, drunken skull pirates, and a couple potty looking land squid with chipped diving helmets – none of this qualifies as TALENT.  Night’s a bust – might as well down some martoonis at the Lava Lounge…
  Poppers!  It looks like somebody took the male half of Noah’s ark, stuffed them all in velvet smoking jackets, and dumped the lot in here!  All eyes are on the cocktail bird with the pointy perkies and the Venus flytrap peepers.  The be-fezzed bull with hearts in his eyes  makes a dash for her.  She pulls some TNT from her bouffant, shoves it down bullie’s throat, and somersaults to my table.
  “Abominable, miss!”
  “A bomb in a bull, indeed!” she says with a wink.
  It looks like I have found my new agent.

• [Keith Seaman]

  Devil girls. Again.
  Sighing, Jim turned around. He grabbed his lighter from inside his suit jacket.
  Devil girls always smoke.
  There were sly smiles and puffs of brimstone-scented smoke that made an ironic halo around their crimson horns and cute bangs.
  An amateur would have offered the twins a drink at this point. Not Jim.
  He made a  motion to the organist with the eye patch and Fez. The  strains of Taki Rari filled the room.
   ”Shall we?” Jim said. The three of them moved to the dance floor, about to perform a samba that would be whispered about  for decades.
  He shimmied close and asked, “What’s the price?” They replied, “Two new hovercars. $50,000 in small bills. A bottle of Cutty Sark.” They looked at each other and back at Jim. “And your innocence.”
  Jim  reached for his communicator.
  Devil girls always get what they want.

• [Mike Earley]

  FROM: Prince From the Biomass (Autumn’s Come Undone).
  Standing in line, cold and miserable, I stared longingly at the river. There, Adventurers on leave frolicked in the gently flowing biomass. Only three more before me, before my chance at redemption. Anxiety increasing, I shifted my attention to Adventurers, rappelling from their base, above. Training exercises for the new recruits. Suddenly I feel a great draft. Snapping out of my haze, I focus my attention–it is my turn now. Closing my eyes, I step into my future.