Ever heard of HUCK Magazine? Well, I hadnt, which certainly isnt saying alot... apparently its out of London so maybe there's merit to my not having heard of it after all. Enough of my Jib-Jab, They've captured a nice interview with our favorite Margera. Here's a snipped from their site:

It’s a warm Saturday morning as I embark on a mission to Bam’s house, aka Bamland, to see just what goes down in the real life of the skating world’s most famous masochistic celebrity. His home is a good three and a half hours away from New York City in the absolute bumble-fuck sticks of West Chester, Pennsylvania.

As the rental speeds through an infinite cattle-grazing landscape, my mind turns to an interview I did with Bam a few months ago. At the time, he was in the throes of locking himself within his in-home editing suite to cut his new film, Minghags, which he co-wrote, starred in, directed and completely funded. “Yeah, I’ve spent about $230,000 so far, but I own all of the equipment already so I don’t have any camera rental fees,” he told me then. The script had been sitting around for two years, but Bam was far too busy filming Viva La Bam and then Bam’s Unholy Union to work on it. “As soon as I finished nine episodes of Bam’s Unholy Union I was like, ‘Fuck it, I don’t give a shit. I’m reserving, like, three months of my life for this movie and I’m getting it done before I commit to any other project.’” The film’s now in the bag and ready for release. With any luck, I might get a sneak peek during my visit.

Upon arrival, I remember the instructions from Bam’s publicist: “Call Missy, Bam’s wife, when you get to the gate.” Bam mentioned he’d often be hounded by fans, many of whom would show up at the gate to shoot photos of themselves standing there – and then hang around for hours in the hope of getting a glimpse of him. This time, however, Bam’s pad is a groupie-free zone. I pull up and call Missy, who promptly gives me the code. I punch it in and it slowly opens. For some reason, I drive up Bam’s driveway cautiously. To my left a giant, plastic Santa Claus is strung to a tree like some kind of effigy. Next to it sits an official-looking sign that reads ‘Serious As Shitwater’. To my right, another sign reads ‘9 of Novak’s Dicks = 1 Of Frantz’s Dicks’. The driveway has a six-coloured rainbow overlooked by an assortment of huge, flamboyantly painted fibreglass animals. On its outskirts sit the famous cement banks that MTV paid for. They curve around a bend leading to a strip of three garage doors, each with a strange individual painting on it. One is of Osama Bin Laden wearing a 76’ers jersey and spinning a basketball on his finger. Another, of Lance Bass from N’ Sync in astronaut attire. And the last one is of Ronald Reagan. Next to the detailed portrait sit the words, ‘Fuck Reagan, he’s a fuck-ass’.