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/| |\
Hi, I'm Satan. | | | | oh?
Mogel asked me to introduce \`\ /'/'
this issue of HOE. I don't \ `---------' / oh!
really have much to say, / /\ /\ \
honestly. I am not affiliated | '' `` | ohh!!
with this stupid text file \ ` ' /
group. It's complete trash. `\ <o> /' .. .. ..
`\ /' || || ||
Some people say that I'm evil, ___/'`---'`\___ \\_||_//
but I never produced a single / \ \ /
shitty, torturous e-zine into | H O E | | |
the world. People have never
been forced to read my trite bullshit. This may suggest that, in some
ways, people like Mogel (and perhaps the editor of Newsweek), are more
evil than I. Please remember that next time you label me, okay? L8r.
. HEY. .
. .
: YOU LOOKIN' FOR SOME TEXT FILES???????? :
: :
: I SAID: YOU LOOKIN' FOR SOME TEXT FILES??????? :
: :
: STRAIGHT FROM THE PIT I HAVE RISEN :
: :
: SUCKIN' YA SUCKIN' YA DOWN DOWN DOWN :
: :
: TO THE DEEPEST DEPTHS OF E'ZINE HELL :
: :
: ...this is.... :
: :
: :
. $$"""b. s$ .d"""b. $$"""b. .d"""b. $$"""b. ### .-----. .
. $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ ##### |.---.| .
$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ ##### || 2 ||
. $$sss" $$ $$ $$sss" $$"""$$ $$ $$ ### |`---'| .
$$"""b. $$ $$ $s$$ $$"""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ `-----'
. $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ .
$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ (BIG BAD #2!!!)
$$sssT" $$ "TsssT" $$sssT" $$ $$ $$sssT" HOE #1100 6-16-00
I CAN'T QUITE RELATE TO IT I CAN'T QUITE RELATE TO IT I CAN'T QUITE RELATE
..........................................................................
__ ohhhh!!!!!1
Which badly / /|
written file // / |
will YOU / / / | 1. And God Spake all these words, saying,
like? / / / /| | 2. I am the LORD thy God, which have brought
/ /__/ / | | thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the
/ /| | / | | house of bondage.
/// | | | / | 3. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
| | | | / |_ 4. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven
| | | |/ / / \ image, or any likeness of any thing that
| | | / / t \ is in heaven above, or that is in earth
\ | | / / r g \ beneath, or that is in the water under
\ |___|/ / e f b \ the earth.
/______ / w d v /\ /| 5. Thou shalt not bow down to them
| _____ |\ q s c / / / nor serve them: for I the LORD
|| =|| \a x / / / thy God am a jealous God,
||-----|| \z \/ / visiting the inquity of the
||_____|| \ / / fathers upon the children unto
|_______|_______| / the third and forth
generation of them that hate me;
6. And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love
me, and keep my commandments.
7. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain;
____________ for the LORD will not him guiltless that taketh his name
|of course i | in vain.
|still loved | 8. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
|her, who | 9. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work.
|wouldn't? | 10. But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy god;
|she said,"I | in it thou shalt not work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy
|love you." | daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservent, nor thy
|I said, "I | cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates:
|love you | 11. For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the
|too, but I | sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh
|really can | day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and
|not see us | hallowed it.
|staying | 12. Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days be long
|together." | upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.
|She agreed. | 13. Thou shalt not kill.
|We named | 14. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
|our child | 15. Thou shalt not steal.
|after a | 16. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
|Danish | 17. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt
|model turned| not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor
|actress | his maidservant, nor his ox, nor hiss ass, nor any
|named Anna | thing that is thy neighbor's.
|Karina. A | 18. And all the people saw the thunderings, and the
|really cute | lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the
|baby, and it| mountain smoking and when the people saw it, they
|was my own | removed, and stood afar off.
|flesh. | 19. And they said unto Moses, Speak thou with us, and we
|____________| will hear, but let not God speak with us, lest we die.
WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN YOU GET OUTTA JAIL / i'm gonna do a remix
streets bruise as easily as flesh just not vice versa | HI! |
kisses here and there |_| |_| and everywhere
small children and dogzz * ask for sex on my
front lawn I refuse to _____ give it to them
/\/\//\/\/\
| |
| |
| ( )
| ---|
| ___|
| ___|
| |___ -------- DON'T HAVE A COW MAN
| | EAT MY SHORTS
|_______/ EYE CARMUMBA
I'LL BE IN MY ROOM --------
Y0|_| />0/\/+ |</\/()\/\/ +|-|3 |=1Z/Z+ +|-|1/\/6
/-\|8()|_|+ \/\//-\/Z Y()|_| |_1++|_3 P|_|ZZY
/-\ZZ3/) +/-\66()+
N I
E S
W ______ ________ ______ ____
B | baby | please | don't | go |
O A ------ -------- ------ ----
R D ______ ____ _____ _________
L | back | to | new | orleans |
E (worst times) ------ ---- ----- ---------
A (i ever had) _____ ______ ____ _______ ____ ____
N | you | know | it | hurts | me | so |
S ----- ------ ---- ------- ---- ----
splitting open the booshwahzie consciousness once again it is
big bag #2: paper or plastic?
please mail all inquiries to diepig@kobek.com
:O
* ^TOdiepig@kobek.com
! /dev/null
BIG BAG #2: STORAGE CAPACITY - 34 GALLONS
Table of Contents:
Chapter #1: Anna Karina, modern day Sappho?
Chapter #2: Anna Karina, Diana or Athena?
Chapter #3: Anna Karina, the intellectual's Monroe?
Chapter #4: Anna Karina, Mistress and Muse
HELL IS WAR SHE SAID I LAUGHED A LITTLE
LOVE IS WAR I REPLIED SHE LAUGHED A LITTLE
WE LAUGHED TOGETHER
I RAPED HER AND TIED HER NYLON AROUND
>her neck<
I brought it down to 3 inches diameter
she died with her eyes lolling
SO MANY COLORFUL PHRASES SO LITTLE TIME
ohhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
Date: Thu, 16 Mar 2000 14:44:34 EST
From: MISSE378@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
WELL HELL IS BEING LIVED IN AS WE SPEEK, COME ON KNOW, YOU HAVE TO ADMIT,
NOTHING CAN BE ANY WORSE THEN WHAT WE ARE LIVING IN NOW, THERE ARE KIDS
KILLING KIDS, SONS AND DAUGHTERS KILLING THERE PARENTS, EVEN OUR LAW
SYSTEM CAN NOT BE TRUSTED, IF HELL WAS TO BE DEFINED, IT SHOULD BE LIFE
ON EARTH, NOT SAYING THAT MY LIFE IS HELL, BUT READ THE PAPER, TAKE A
LOOK OUTSIDE, THIS WORLD IS NOT HOW GOD INTENDED IT TO BE, WE AS THE
PEOPLE HAVE TO BRING IT BACK, WE HAVE TO TEACH OUR CHILDREN THAT THEY ARE
IN FACT ONLY CHILDREN, AND TO RESPECT THIER ELDERS NOT KILL THEM OFF, THE
WORLD IS A SAD PLACE, AGAIN DEFINED AS HELL IN MY BOOK, WE ARE ALL
STRIVING TO GET TO THE PARADISE THAT WE ALL DREAM ABOUT, I BELIEVE THAT WE
WILL ALL MEET THERE ONE DAY THE RICH, THE POOR, THE YOUNG THE OLD THE BAD
AND THE GOOD, GOD LOVE US ALL. CYA IN HEAVEN.
ohhh!! ohhh!!!!1
And that's the question ya should've been askin', man.
What is YOUR personal hell?
"Being forced to watch an endless marathon of 'meet the contestants'
Jeopardy! segments." - Mr A Jim
"I would be driving with all new tires, then *BAM* I would get a
flat, then I'd get a new tire and *BAM* another one would blow.
repeat." - Alicia
"Lack of cats." - TanAdept
"My personal hell would be... a world with no HOE!!!"
- Totsirol@aol.com
"<deep> my mind. </deep>" - Anjee
"Going through life unloved by the flesh of a woman :~(" - xXx_Droo
"My personal hell would be being on IRC 24/7." - Crabit
"Living in a house where I can never be at peace--with a total
lack of concentration... where I cannot just sit and enjoy
something, but am always plagued by some sort of fear or suspense."
- Dagolith
"Having my arms & legs fastened to the rear of a big orange
Schneider semi truck travelling along interstate 39 & being
immediately followed by a mint-green ford festiva carrying a
mounted television showing videotaped highlights of my day-to-day
life in rockford, illinois." - Trilobyte
"Seeing full-page ads in the New York Times for companies headed
by idiots i talked to confs on just a few years ago. No wait.
That was just how I spent yesterday morning." - Cstone
"Being chained to the table for an never-ending marketing
meeting." - Krnl
"HAVING SEX WITH CAITLIN" - Jamesy
"Trapped in a basement with N'sync, and being forced to teach them
Perl and SQL." - Imbrogilo
"Being stuck in a remote cabin for a week surrounded by stupid
stoner kids who listen to Sugar Ray and Korn. I don't know if
that's my real answer. I'd have to think about it. I mean, it's
hard to think seriously about it, in a SERIOUS WAY. Obviously
I'd be more distraught by seeing my mom raped and skinned or
something rather than hanging out with stoners." - Basehead
"Too personal to discuss." - Ingy
OH EVERYBODY SING "OH SAY HAPPY DAY" TO THE SPECIAL AWARD WINNER BELOW!!!!1
Date: Thu, 16 Mar 2000 15:23:09
From: Max Graves <negative_kreep@casketcrew.zzn.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
I am living my own personal hell right now... it is called LIFE.
Waking up everyday, realizing that I am not dead... HELL. Going to
school and seeing all the people wearing their masks of happiness and
bullshit... HELL. Trying to get somewhere in a society that abides by
a strict set of rules to make us all mindless sheep robots... HELL.
Trying to be nice to people, and make friends while fighting the hatred
and disgust inside... HELL. Watching people act stupid so they can fit
in... HELL. Being stupid so I can thus be accepted... HELL. There are only
a few true facts in this world. One: everybody is a hypocrite.
Two: everyone stereotypes. Three: money rules all... HELL. Imagine
living to die, coexisting with existence, just to reach non-exisitence.
Welcome to my hell. I hate everyone and I write like shit, but that's
reality and reality is my hell... what do I know anyways? I'm just a
worthless faggot in a world of slut whores...
Peace Out.
-Max Graves
Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2000 18:14:07 GMT
From: "Nina ..." <n_nn_n@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
it would probably be burning hot so everyone can wear a bathing suit....
or a birthday suit for that matter. and there would be non-stop parties
for the members of the "club", those are the people who lived their lives
to their full potential and not by the bible, like for ppl who KNOW how to
have FUN!!!!!! and there'd be like torture chambers all over, cause they
are like so kinky and gooood!!!! lol and then i'd have dorito smokey red
bbq chips served and hot baths and everything hot! so it would be like
this freaky sex lair with all "evil" ppl and stuff.... yup that's my dream!
Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2000 17:55:14 -0600 (CST)
From: Glynis <jwhite1@students.uiuc.edu>
To: Mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
this is actually a math problem assigned for homework. MATH problem. and
no, i'm not in 8th grade.
30. VISITING THE NATIONAL DEBT. In the case study on the national debt,
we found that it would make a stack of $1 bills about 1 million kilometers
tall. Suppose that you could fly through space along this stack of money
in a 747 airplane. Assuming a speed of 1000 km/hr (620 mi/hr), how long
would the flight take? Write one or two paragraphs that use your results
to put the national debt in perspective.
you've got to be kidding me. this class is called NUMERACY, and not only
is the math involved incredibly simple, but now i have to write two
paragraphs putting the national debt into perspective. ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2000 01:38:19 EST
From: Jrblack214@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
I suppose that I should talk about how pure I am and how I have been such
a loving mother and good provider to my child, and a hard worker, this was
not the case. I have already been through hell in really bad relationships,
living in poverty and trying to make something of myself in a world where
people are ashamed to even say they are "white" anymore. I got really
pissed off the other day when I did my census form. It is none of the
governments damn business what color I am, white people get screwed because
they are white. I couldn't get day care for my son because there was no
funding for white families, only Hispanic, Asian and African Americans,
and the school I work at is total affirmative action whether they will
admit to it or not. so I feel like the minority in my own country. Anyone
heard of a white entertainment network lately??? The white panthers?? the
Caucasian scholarship program?? I am not racist as some may think but what
about our rites to white pride?? does this offend you? I think that all of
the people of ethnic backgrounds other than white think we have it so good
and I just wanted to say that we have it but what do we really have besides
pale ass skin???? I would have voted for Collin Powell (excuse me if that
is the wrong spelling) if he ran for president because I thought he would
do a good job, not because he was black. just a thought.
Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2000 22:51:07 -0500 (EST)
From: harri131@pilot.msu.edu
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Having to read all these lame HOE special release files on a common topic.
This is my generic ultra-hip ezine answer. In reality however, pokemon,
the backdoor boys and stupid people are merely nuisances. There are far
worse things in the universe than being surrounded by 8 year old kids
screaming gibberish like "pikachu" and "Jizzathon".
Imagine having your brain constantly flooded with millions of sensations,
Moving and changing so quickly that your mind cannot keep up. All you
want is sleep, but it's not coming. Soul-Death... Nothingness... is prayed
for...
-Darks1de
Briefing 0700 HOURS
Listen up, troops! We here at HOE have decided that we're going to
declare WAR on the timeless force of mediocrity, and though we know this
battle can never be won, we'd rather die with our teeth gritted and the
gorey remains of our friends splattered across our impending consciousness.
We aren't going to sit around and grow fat. No, we're rallying to the
white canes, and we're taking our vicious battle style to the streets.
We're slapping down our own bastard offspring, that paragon of the putrid,
Anada.
No more will we tolerate the rambling booshwah ethic of mass marketed
pop artistry slashing across the only medium that remains pure and
uncorrupted by Fifth Avenue suits: the text file. At HOE, our paramilitary
efforts have brought us to only one conclusion: that it's better to die in
our footsteps. We have declared war on these vile pigs and their mediocre
efforts which time and time again make the most horrible smells. So we
strap on the G.I. Joe battle gear and strip off the mask of Cobra Commander
only to reveal that his days as a used car salesman are over, and that his
son Billy has escaped with Zartan.
Are you hearing me, you sorry assholes? Did you eat the banana yet,
you sick fucking animals? We are bringing down the entire power structure
onto our own shoulders. The law of the land has been mediocrity for too
long and only at HOE can the truth be known; that binary opposition between
GOOD and BAD is meaningless; that they are the same thing; that the only
enemy is mediocrity; that the religion of our time has made us too
unworldly and forced us to lose the taste of blood.
Atomic bomb explodes over Hiroshima August 6th, 1945 and no one yet
knows how many died from the Chernobyl accident, but we do know one solid
truth: that these anada files sucked and that we made them better. This
may be our last transmission; we're going into the jungles of Peru and
we're going to pull down the temples of Machu Pichu, knowing that the
Aztec gods were mediocrity in excelcius.
-AIDS/Kobek.Com President/HOE Assistant Editor
--------------------THA DIRECT RESPONSE: OHHH!!!!------------------------
ON WAR by Effy
"War is as anachronistic as cannibalism, slavery and colonialism."
--Rosalie Bertell, of the Horizon Electronic Magazine for IRPA
(International Peace Research Association)
As the sole neutral representer of opposing sides of this dark time
in the history of our culture, I would like to take a few moments to lament
on this atrocious situation that is now very obviously directly affecting
our day to day lives. It makes me sad to witness such ugly belligerence in
a once so peaceful environment. This massive dispute, this veritable civil
war between Hoe and Anada is taking its toll on us, and could quite
possibly end with major consequences, such as the destruction of ezine
culture as it is known today. Every night before I go to bed, I pray to
our holy mother Mogel that light will be shed upon our fingertips, and
those who oppose each other will only have kind words to say from that day
forward. I then dream of a text file world where we do not need to claw at
each other's throats and gnaw at each other's weaknesses in order to be
humorous, in order to be accepted, to gain rank and power.
"We here at HOE have decided that we're going to declare WAR on the
timeless force of mediocrity...We're slapping down our own bastard
offspring, that paragon of the putrid, Anada." -- AIDS
AIDS (also known as J arett Kobek), assistant editor of Hoe,
epitomizes this tendency that has become all too natural in the past years.
It makes sense, considering he is the initiator of this war. But deep down
inside AIDS's heart, we must realize that he doesn't really want to fight.
He merely wants his children and his children's children to view the
history of the text file scene as a fascinating saga which must be
repeatedly relived in order to keep the dwindling community alive and
thriving.
"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and
mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the
crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the [TEXT FILE]
shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together."
--Martin Luther King Jr.
My weary eyes look to this day that Mr. King once referred to a
long, long time ago, for I too have a dream, like he. Some of you may
laugh. Some may scorn. Some may write typically sarcastic text files
about the hope that lives in the deepest cranny of my soul.
I do not care. I am not afraid anymore. I will be heard!
Peace is our destiny, my friends. We must gather with peace, and
part with peace. We must not recruit then reject, and subject ourselves
to watching the senseless desecration of our supposed bastard children.
We must not deny the responsibility for the "mediocre" text files that
Mr. Kobek speaks of with such distaste. We cannot disown the eggs we lay.
We must lie in the bed that we make. We must reap what we sow, and
nourish the fruit that we plant.
It pains me to know that my comrades reside on both sides of the
battle. A prominent feeling of melancholy consumption is eating away at
my heart and soul. I say to those of you who now stand proudly shouting
your senseless battle cries:
I am not a part of this war.
I will give my love to all of you.
I will bandage your bleeding wounds that you have given each other.
I will console you as your relationships deteriorate.
I will continue to read all of your text files, and I will continue
to write for both Hoe and Anada, despite the hostility in between and the
bitterness that is sure to come my way.
I will stand my ground, tall and straight as the five-foot-four
inches of my body.
And when it's all over, I will remain, unscarred and still willing
to give peace a chance.
Won't YOU give it a chance?
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
THE TEXTIAD by Oregano
And there on the field, the champion of the kingdom of Hoe, Aids,
lay dead. A spear thrown by a female warrior having cleaved his skull and
his over-developed brain did spill out and wet the dusty ground. The
Mighty Mogel did wail and cry over the vanquishment of his best soldier.
And there, not far away, the champion of the kingdom of Anada did
lay dead. Oregano, who had been silent for so many months, only to pick up
his sword when most needed. An arrow pierced his heart and Oregano would
stir no more. Phairgirl, from up high did unlease her anger and promise
great wrath against the kingdom of Hoe for taking her finest after finally
he took pen in hand after so much silence.
Yea, I tell the end, where you want the beginning. I will start
again, and tell you how the events came about.
Mogel was restless. Mogel wanted change. Mogel had created Hoe
from the dust and now he wanted to recreate it again in a different form.
Mogel thundered and cried and shook Hoe with his mighty strength and all
the good writers fell out. Then Mogel did cast out Phairgirl saying that
her careful ways of quality control were too slow for such a grand
creation as Hoe.
Phairgirl did call the bluff of the mighty Mogel and did create her
own kingdom from the dust, and it too was strong, strong enough to make the
Mighty Mogel and his best warrior, Aids, worry it may someday be the ruler
of the continent. Phairgirl ruled a land of peace, a kingdom called Anada.
Perhaps too peaceful, for some of the warriors got lazy and would not work
with their pens.
Mogel thundered again and cast out Oregano, who promptly sought
refuge in the kingdom of Anada. But Oregano was battered from so many
years defending the kingdom of Hoe and he could no longer hold a mighty
pen, and so when the ships of Anada saw war and sailed to the field of
battle, Oregano could only lay by the ships while his fellows wrote the
text which was the great battle.
We skip here some grand tales of bravery and heroism, on both sides,
for both Anada and Hoe had powerful staffs. Both sides took their best
shots and many lay wounded or fallen in the dust. Aids came out to the
field of battle and many of Anada fell, but still Oregano did not stir, he
lay while the best of Anada fought valiantly. A pen in his hands was like
a poker taken directly from a fire. Even when a proud Robin landed on his
shoulder, sent from Olympus on high, and reminded him of past glory and his
great prowess with the pen and the sword, even then Oregano did not stir
and would only self-loathe himself.
Yea did the battle rage on and the soldiers of Anada were taking a
beating. And upon this beating did Aids make a grand proclamation. He
spoke not just to his own warriors, but to these of Anada and he did say
that he personally would see that the corpses of every soldier of Anada
would rot in the sun, and their blood would soak in the the dust and Anada
would no longer be remembered and all the Anada staff would be smited and
not written in the book of life.
And with these words ringing in his ears, with his head echoing with
the challenge, did Oregano stand up off the dusty ground and did pick up
his mighty pen and sword and did wield it and did step onto the field of
battle where he did much injury and harm to the side of Hoe. He stood to
once again rase the banner of Anada as being not just the finest in the
land, but truly the only in the land.
And there were many days of intense fighting and now we come back
to where my tale started. After the dust settled from the bravely fought
battle we find Aids dead upon the field of battle with his brains
scattered, and Oregano lay fallen too, with his blood among the dust, his
heart pierced with a single arrow.
And mighty Mogel did order his troops off the field of battle. And
Phairgirl did order her ships again to take to the sea for the odyssey of
returning back to the kingdom of Anada, to have her forces ready to gather
for another day.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
"God takes a shit and out comes..." by Alek
OK, so every once in awhile, God has to take a crap. He's like
only human and junk, or something, ya know. So, anyhow, yeah, God really
needed to fucking crap one day. I mean a HUGE fucking crap. Like take the
biggest, longest crap you ever ever took in yr entire life and multiply
that by a zillion and that's how big God's crap was gonna be. So, anyhow,
God sat down on his gigantic toilet. Now this toilet is pretty fucking big
because everyone knows that God is one fat fuck. its true! its true! And
he eats babies too. But, i digress.
So, God sits down on his gigantic huge fucking throne to take the
largest crap ever taken (Guinness Record officials are on hand). Veins are
fucking bulging out of his forehead and he's all red and he's screaming, "God
damnit, come the fuck out already! Jesus fuckin' christ!" Its quite
obvious that God had been eating many fried cheese and sardine sandwiches.
He was very constipated.
After countless hours of squeezing and pushing, God let out the
biggest crap ever. When God was done a few days later, he wiped and got up
to check the toilet. You see, God always inspects his feces for fiber.
Its true, its true! God was truly astonished at what he saw in his
crapper.
Some dude with a t-shirt that said HOE on it started yelling about
some stuff, but no one knew what he was talking about cuz he's a stupid fuck
or something. then there was a girl who had boobs and junk and she like to
talk to the poo. she had a HOE shirt on. i think she was one of the
godfather's ladies.
There were some other dudes that said they were writers for an ezine
or some shit but no one cares about their loser asses cuz they are loser
asses. everyone knows technology is gay and no one gives two tugs of a
dead dogs cock about yr gay star trek website or yr backstreet boys porno
britney spear shaving pics CLICK HERE!
um, what?
so these people with HOE tshirts are swimming around in fecal water
and having a grand ol time cuz they're pretty much accustomed of wallowing
in shit (LOL!). WHOOOOoooo! take that cracker motherfuckas!
um, so in conclusion or whatever, um if you read HOE, yr gay and you
support a bunch of baby eating, tree huggin, dirty, skanky, bottom feeding,
brutal, trash bag hoes, and that my friends IS TRUE!
(by the way: what's HOE?)
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Tue, 9 May 2000 02:03:24
From: chet@oldmanmurray.com
To: Mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
Don't taunt me that this will be your final pathetic email. The fun of
receiving links to poorly written crap is over... feel free to remove
my name from your list or just get used to the mail being bounced.
Date: Fri, 11 Feb 2000 04:04:43 GMT
From: Aleka Hoku <hawiian_hoku@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
hoe's great! i love all the different txt files and stuff....i've been
reading hoe for over a year, was introduced by a friend and have passed it
on to many many friends and acquaintances...keep the kick ass awesome
job!!!! i love everything u guys write!
mucho smooches
*anela aleka*
Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2000 18:32:03
From: Dan Nagy <nothing@apk.net>
To: hoe@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
i remember those days.
i was into things. i listened to Inf. Soc. and kmfdm. i sat in a dirty
corner at my fathers house on my leading edge 286, with those awful 5.25"
drives, one with dos, one with procomm plus, plotting ways to reconnect to
the same line after my 60 minute freenet session was over.
i remember those awful freenet picnics, where some of the peoples skin was
paler than the plain white t-shirts i used to wear all the time. the
cliques, the loners, the fact that we all knew ourselves as ap035 and
sa131 and cl762.
1200 baud. warez boards that let you in if you knew what InC and ACiD
stood for. hacking irc. social engineering accounts from people you hated,
or better yet, taking the other phone and calling them, because their
mommy and daddy didn't want the call waiting turned off. wondering if my
cpu would crash, because the buffer might overload while i was capturing
uuencoded porn. the green trench coat that lasted me through high school.
then there were the text files.
everything i learned about making my own drugs, picking locks, exploiting
unix and bestiality i learned on searchlight boards, wildcat hacks and
usenet, when people actually had something useful to say.
those days are gone. like most of the other kids that were around during
that era, i got a real job in computers, and although i still sit in front
of this damned box all night long when the girl's at school, it's not the
same. freenet's gone in cleveland. the people i used to look forward to
chatting with at 3 am have moved on, some for better, some for worse, some
for AOL.
don't get me wrong, everyone deserves an IPO, right? cheers for linux and
rob malda and jon katz. props to search engines and al4a. palm pilots and
G4's and transmeta are alright in my book. but they'll never replace the
fondness i have for CGA graphics and copycon autoexec.bat.
so here's to all of us that read CdC when it was new, to people who
actually knew what a SysOp was and definitely to anyone that had a
TI-994a.
one of these days i'm going to pull that 286 out of the attic and write
text files on it. maybe somebody will know what the hell i'm talking
about.
/\
_| |_
_|__ __|_
__ | |
_| |_ | | | |
| | /\ | | | |
| | | | | | | |___
| | | | | | | | |
| |_|_ | | | | | |
| | | | | | | | |
_| | |_|_ | | |_
| | |_| | | (oh.)
| |
| CLEVELAND FREE-NET |
| COMMUNITY COMPUTER SYSTEM |
|____________________________________|
brought to you by
Case Western Reserve University
Community Telecomputing Laboratory
Date: Mon, 3 Apr 100 04:23:10
From: Matt Spinks <mcspinks@unix.amherst.edu>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HAY UYUUU
HAY D00D@!! EYeyz sawrZ Yuew g0tz da Gnu z1n3 out dare on tdat street
n lyts lke ho." like Hoe3 4 h0rz n tards n bytchfuckaz niggazs n dig
dogfuckjaz n like dogdinks... y0 sucka! Yo I been lisssinin to-2-t3w
much EMINEM l8lee n its makin me wanna g0 out wif da sack o ole
marbles in DA TUBESOCK N FUKCIN WAHM! bring it down on sum retards
hed...umm like YO BIEEYTATCH YOU WNAT MAH AUTOGRAPH? I BUST Y0 HED IN
HALF N SIGN THA CAST!@! damn dude.. i see You got some mad t-phil3z
up on h0e dare, dhere iz many wif da old-sk00l look.and.feel like
whats wuz around cDc in... da eighties! woo! rumba da 80s or wuz U U
sum little ass fuckin schoolboyniggabitchfuckacatfuc/? ya well it
seems 2 me nowz you rumba da 80s G00D wifs all yer mosposmderism ov da
ironyo-retroyo-mistah-makinfunnamuhSELF-files n da
retro-anarcho-socio-politico-sayfuck?-sayshit! files... N0tZ da
mention you n your bagga bittches wif what constutiiutes a posse ov
editeros los banditos del cyberspacospicco ... mogel da cyberspic. who
w00dda thought ov it?
oh YEZ m0gel, mah friend, ur gnu files are ind33d tha retro-ist ov all tha
we-so-bad-we-so-good filez.. u seemz 2 be regargitatin da c0llege
education now dat y00z gradickated fum CULLUGE! UH WUNT DUH CULLEGE!
D00d wickid! d00d eye haff m0re literary talent in muh FUCKIN twisted
testicles than y0u got in yer damn army ovV retro textFiles... sum men
got da BEEMER sum got a really nice bike, sum got a job at starbucks, s0me
peepulz got a thousand textfiles.. d00d the nigworm eye be scratchin off
mah armz is dah papyrus upon which YOU wish you gonna be writing dah next
great TEXTFILE.
m0gel... da king ov da textfilez... spreading dem everywhichwhere like
sum SCENT.. like herpesz n sum guano, dr0ppin tfile jism of wisdum like
s4lt on dah 'Hoag13s" whutz sday cll da big footlong sammich in moguls
town! Ho-geez0rsz FUCKA when he goez to buy sumz animalz carckuhz@s dah
store he leeves dah trail 0v t-f3philez behindZ him. Wh3n He dryve3sz
dah m0gel kar 2-PHAST!! n da c0pz is lyke 'SHit you BISZZZTEd BUSTED
BIATCH!' mog0el's like... "Here dude, have a textfile. On me. Peace out,
bro!" n da c0pz like 'das YYYOOUU mogel?? Sir haff a nice dayz0rsz!!"
n m0gels off sc0tch-twat-free.
das m0gel ph0r ewe! He livvf he brethe3s he 3ats textfiles N hazza barbie
doll whutz sleeps in dis bed next t0 hiz, N He makes dah bed for barbie
outtA prynt3d 0ut IBFTzz n CdcZ! Dat widdoo poosy! he pways edittin da
textfilezinesscene wiff faggbutt d0lls! NO SHIT! eye swearsz, he g0tta
barbie n skipper size comput3RRRR he be like 'Barbie, your realist piece
on the postmodern implications of my girlfriends armpit is late! My lit
zine cant go to press without it! I will suck and I will lose my girliez
and I will lose my IP address! Why is the life of a genius so hard,
Barbie?!"
(oh seriously man on a serious note i read your phun w/shit file and you
gotta try this... there is a new kind of gatroade called Fierce Grape
Gatorade. it will give new meaning to the phrase 'my shit is a weird
color'. anyway sorry to break out of character for that, but if you take
me up youll find it was wiorth it... anyway...)
Wh3n m0gels bees tha f00kin like 85 yrs-old n INNA HOSPITAL (HAHAHAH)
dey is gonna open hiz c0l0sztomy bag n be lyke ''fuck is THIS shit?' n
they gonna open it out n find it CLOGGED WIFF TEXTFILES. m0gel. he be
slappin tha headres n ph00ters on da st00pid shit fum dah cr4ydle 2 da
grave 0r at leazzt fum da p00berty 2 da alzheimers. h3 stick a header
n f00ter on his 0wn m0mma.
write back!@!
Date: Sun, 21 May 2000 19:50:23 -0700
From: butcher <butcher@drizzle.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
My friend said you sent him a subscription to HOE ZINE! THanks you friend.
I am worried now if he will like HOE ZINE as much as I like it but I hope
he does. I really hope he does.
Thanks HOE MAN.
tinkle tinkle
(do you laugh at that? (tinkle tinkle)?)
I do laugh at it.. BYE!
Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2000 12:12:11 +0200
From: onnlein@wtal.de
To: hoe@hoe.nu
Subject: noppa
hello, i search for the sources or the programmer of noppa, it's
really important for me, i hope you can help me!!
Date: Mon, 3 Apr 2000 01:31:48 EDT
From: Muzak29@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: I wanna write for your zine.
When I fly. I have the wings of the winged snake-man. Once, when I was 2,
I pooped in the dog water because i was being potty trained. That is not a
false statement. We will dance. Ask the snake-man.
.................................................. . .. . .
OH OH NO NO NO NO OHHH OHHHHHH NOOOOOOOO OHHHHHH HOE WILL NEVER SELL OUT.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: : :: : :
Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2000 13:12:48
From: "Alexandre Baronnet" <angela2@intrnic.com>
To: hoe@hoe.nu
Subject: Information required
Hello!
We are interested in advertising in your newsletter. We sell astrology
reports and want to advertise our products in newsletters orientated
towards a general public.
We would be interested in running an ad on a regular basis in order to
secure the lowest possible tariff from you. We are not sure how often
your newsletter goes out but would like to run the ad once a week if you're
a weekly or once a month if you're a monthly. As mentioned, we are
interested in securing the lowest possible tariff so would like your ideas
on the following:
-either we advertise 'normally' in your newsletter (5 lines?) and would
therefore need a tariff from you which takes into account the fact that
we will be advertising regularly
-or we could supply a much shorter ad (one or two lines such as <20>request
your free personal horoscope done by a professional astrologer :
http..." :) that we would want you to slip in between your other ads.
The latter seems to be the most appealing for both parties since you get
to keep your other advertisers and we get a good deal as far as your
tariff is concerned.
Please mail us back with your tariffs, number of subscribers and how
often your newsletter goes out. Thanks in advance.
Sincerely
Alexandre Baronnet
Date: Thu, 25 May 2000 04:07:48 +0100
From: roboto@bboy.com
To: hoe@hoe.nu
*******************************************************
* hoe e'zine--a retailiation to #709 *
* "young linux users" *
* by roboto *
*******************************************************
I read interjen's article recently, and I'm all for her anti-aol
propaganda. I started out on aol four years ago, when I was 8 or 9, but I
moved on to local ISPs. And I think it's cool that she uses linux and shes
only 11, but when the editor (Phairgirl I think) says 'Interjen is an
eleven year old girl. Were YOU using Linux when you were eleven? I don't
think so.' -- He's wrong.
I started using linux when I was 11, with my first install of Redhat4.1
(kernel 2.0.27, I think). And, I didn't have anyone to help me with it.
I found out about it by myself, read up on it, talked to other linux users
on IRC about it. The one day, after I saved up 40 bucks, I went to CompUSA
and bought a copy of RedHat. Then I went home, formatted my 486, and put
it on. I'm 13 now, and I've been using linux for two years (not two years
of productivity, just two years). I've gained experience over those two
years. Linux started me on my first unsuccessful attempts at programming
(which actually was VB, but I got interested in programming around 11,
after I saw that I had access to a free compiler, linker and debugger).
Why did I write this? I have no fucken clue, I just wanted to show you
guys that there may be more young-future-unix-gurus out there then you
guys thought.. later.
-roboto
Date: Mon, 15 May 2000 11:05:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: guido sanchez <gweeds@newhackcity.net>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
i had no idea that the song "The Salaminizer" by GWAR was such a
tribute to "Gangster Gangster" by NWA
GWAR:
Here's a little somethin from a God to a slave
Never shoulda been let out the fuckin microwave
...
Burning a mall or two, blowing the load I spew
You don't wanna fucking fuck me? I'll fuck you!
This is your ass, and I'm in it
My man Sexy will fuck you up in a minute
With an axe, sword, mace, pike you're limbless
Then I'll fuck your ass til it's rimless
NWA:
Here's a little somethin' bout a nigga like me
Never shoulda been let out the penitentiary
...
Takin' a life or two, that's what the hell I do
You don't like how I'm livin? Well fuck you!
This is a gang, and I'm in it
My man Dre'll fuck you up in a minute
With a right, left, right, left you're toothless
And then you say goddamn they ruthless
WEIRD, HUH?
Date: Thu, 10 Feb 2000 16:30:20 EST
From: Vishnu3@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
hi mogel, i'm nick cannariato. i have an overwhelming curiosity for the
outside world. my lust for learning has taken me from the utmost of
ascensions of consciousness to the gravest depths of attention deficit.
i especially savor music (pop, classical, jazz, not emo). literature,
history, and philosophy are also primary interests of mine. i am an
individual who loves others. i often times have a hard time accepting
them for who and what they are, but i am working on that character flaw.
i have the heart of a leviathan who enjoys the warm luminescence of solar
rays near the surface of the turbulent sea of ignorance. i also have the
wisdom to know that i do not know. socrates is an idol of mine. the
platonic dialogues are beautifully written, but are often inaccessible to
the everyman. i am piteous of this fact. hypocritically speaking, i
deplore the vernacular of the day. i try to always expand my vocabulary.
a heightened sense of language gives me the boost on a daily basis i need
to maintain a deluded sense of autonomy. either way, continue on your
path toward zine greatness. ciao baby---peace be with you---love to all.
Date: Thu, 08 Jun 2000 23:43:30
From: Craig M. Price <craig_m._price@jackson.cc.mi.us>
To: hoe@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
Hello, Gotta submission for ya. Thanks for your time.
----------
"How dumb people ruined the Internet" by Bung Ree
Most of you can probably remember when the Internet started. Back
in the day the Internet was about knowledge. Sadly, like so many other
things in life, it has become a tool for the media to make more money.
How has this atrocity come to pass? I'll tell you- DUMB PEOPLE.
Ten years ago the Internet wasn't worth companies' time because the few
mount of people on the Internet were smart. How many of you people
actually click the ads that run on every single damned web page? Most of
you probably answered zero- congratulations, you are (probably) not dumb
(Notice the lack of ads on the Hoe E'zine page).
What has changed since then to allow these idiots out into our once
beloved Internet? I'll tell you- User Friendliness. Years past, you had
to actually know something to be able to use the Internet. No
sponge-minion that didn't know the difference between a CD-ROM and a
fucking coffee cup holder could get on. Today, since these computers are
made for the average person, (translation: DUMB) you buy a computer, and
WHAMO! You're on the Internet, clicking merrily away, making the suits
more money, surfing to every single web address you see, whether it be on
a cereal box, an ad in the paper, or the back of a detergent bottle. And,
of course, sending your DAMNED chain letters to every person you have met
in your miserable existence. Oh by the way, just in case one of you
happens to be read this, no matter how many poor saps you send an email
to, you *WILL NOT* see cool movies, get 1,000,000 dollars from Bill Gates
for helping him test his email tracing program, have good luck, score more
dates, and no little girls with cancer / AIDS will get pennies / nickels /
dimes. TRUST ME.
So, these companies say, "Hey, we can get more advertising now that
there are more dumb people on the Internet!" "Quick lets buy any domain
name that has anything remotely to do with our product." Then they
populate web sites with flashy ads and cool slogans. Why the hell a
company needs a site with Java, Macromedia Flash, and a host of other
bandwidth-hogging shit just to advertise some fucking laundry detergent
is beyond me.
Thanks to all of you people who continue to not be dumb. Our
numbers are dwindling fast; we must do what we can to propagate smart
people. Who will have sex with me?
Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 06:52:55 -0400
From: killer cait <caitlin@kobek.com>
To: j arett@kobek.com
Subject: AWewEkslfkslQE!
!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!
!!
Love,
Caitlin
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
EAT MY BALLS by Effy
you're nuthin' but a fuckin' crusty ass shit fuckin' faced rottin'
spare chunk of skunk liver lyin' on the side of the fuckin' road eatin'
fuckin' poodle shit to fuckin' stay alive dog cock slurpin' pig dick
munchin' bull shit wipin' salad tossin' gold fuckin' diggin' four fingered
half brained peanut nibblin' fuckin dipshittin' in the fuckin' portofuckin'
potty fuckin' your mother in the fuckin' gutter mother fuckin' ass huggin'
tree fuckin' electrical tape on your fuckin' ass crack to hold your fuckin'
dingleberries in mother fuckin' suckin' your cows dick just to get milk
while rapin' your sheep while your wife's beggin' for sex mother fucker
mother fucker mother fucker kiss my ass you fuckin' fuck who hangs
testicles on your christmas tree fuckin' zoo rapist smack daddy mother
fuckin' crack nut wanna be my daddy bitch whore slut wannabe las vegas
cunt licker yeah buddy I'm talkin' to you that's right you use fuckin'
anal oil as your fuckin' cologne that's right uh huh you're nuthin' but a
twisted limp dick yanker that's right you yank your own twistin' limp dick
yeah you try an' come over here you crap lapper farm fuck inbred came out
of your mother's ass mother fuckin' lifeless squirrel grabbin' piece of
unidentified worthless feces eat my balls that's right eat my balls you
try and eat my steel balls with your two poor blackened excuses for teeth
whisker bitch drinkin' your wife's rag out of a tin cup impregnatin' your
goat cuz you're just as much of a fuckin' horned fuckin' animal masturbator
fecal rapist doin' piles of manure at midnight pickin' dingleberries off
your fuckin' ass bushes and makin' a fuckin' pie to feed to your gap
toothed inbred fuckin' kids you fuckin' fuck yeah you yeah hair pie eat
shit and just fuckin' die already gay daddy fucker' rainbow fuckin' walkin'
herpes infestation pulsating sack of grease givin' away your fuckin' ass
hairs to homos for crack dope smokin' pot bellied horse fucker you're a
horse fucker you fuck fuckin' horses right in the mouth that's right now
your dick is gone mother fucker the horse bit the fuckin' thing right off
so whatchu gonna fuckin' do now huh uh huh you're nuthin' but a soap
droppin' crusty bakin' stack of old hog bacon smack cracker that's right
I'm talkin' to you don't make me fuckin' repeat myself mother fucker just
cuz you can't fuckin' hear with all that fuckin' wax in your fuckin' ear
make a fuckin' candle cuz you can't pay your fuckin' electric bill without
suckin' some flamer's peepee mother fucker I see you're gettin' pissed off
now fuckface whatchu gonna do about it huh what you got to say with your
fuckin' three word vocabulary you got no teeth mother fucker you got no
fuckin' teeth your mouth is fulla fuckin' holes like your anus your fuckin'
ripped anus you stick smokin' gimp that's what you are that's what you'll
always be wife neglectin' goat penis chicken choker bawk bawk bawk your
pigs like it when you suck 'em that's right crap factory god made you on
an assembly line with assorted kinds of shit man yeah man you fuckin' sick
fuck whatchu gonna do about it huh huh uh huh you try an' say you're gonna
do somethin' about it but there aint nuthin' that you can do mother fucker
eat my steel balls eat them go on mother fucker uh huh hhuh you'll bust
your rotten teeth uhhh eat them eat 'em fucker uh huh huh uh huh huh huh
huh uh uh uh huh uh uhuuh uhhhhhh uh hhuhhhhhhhh uuhhhhhh huh
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh huuuh
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Sat, 22 Apr 2000 06:26:33 CDT
From: Noah Larkosh <dj_pi_rate@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: Noah "pi-rate gets tough on stains"
He collects his thoughts, one or two, and ponders for the moment...
Is he an instrument of life, or a larger main component?
Is he thinking rational, or has he gone insane?
But if, just say, he were an object, is he a brand name?
And if he were, would he truly be of any use?
Or would he sit and gather dust, like a... food processor?
Or an electric cutting knife that's much too hard to clean.
And would he show the scratches from the abuse that he has seen?
Would every woman need one, and is he cost effective?
And does he have a warranty, in case he is defective?
Will he be a passing fad, like a Pogo Ball?
Or will he stand the test of time, like a Barbie doll?
And what would be the sound of him... would he have a voice?
Or does he have intelligence, turning memory into choice?
Would they make a model, sans options, for the middle class?
And what would he be made of? Teflon? Plastic? Steel? Wood, or glass?
And as he ponders all of these, his goal in mind is set.
To be a household name someday, one history can't forget.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
I WANNA FUCK YOUR FACE WITH A RAKE #1 by Kaotik
<kaotik> hi you might remember me from other messages such as:
<kaotik> "<kaotik> yeah"
<kaotik> or
<kaotik> "<kaotik> umm.."
<ti> kaotik is on dxm
<ti> run from him
Umm... yeah here's some shit for your eyes to read fuckers. I got an
offer... actually i was told to write a file and shit, usually i don't give
two fucks to do anything but i am kinda bored and can do this in two
minutes. theres a few things in life i don't like...besides all these
fuckin internet cluebies..i also hate fat chix...why you may ask well...
they are fat and not good to look at...you can go about life being fat and
stuff..but when you try to dress to look good, as opposed to dressing to
look half decent it is sad. now if you are fat and reading this...and you
have issues..chances are you'd be better off fucking yourself..because
there is not much you can say that can make me feel bad, especially for
you, fatty.
hahahaha...i wanna fuck your fat face with a fuckin rake! YOU HEAR ME YOU
FAT FUCK$#@AE...so anyways, i got to clubs and shit...and these fat chicks
try to hit on me..it's depressing seeing that i am hot, and have nice
stuff, i dress nice, and go out with models and shit...so there is no real
chance that someone with an ego like mine and stuff like mine...and gurls
like mine that i would want you. i don't care if your personality is so
good that jesus wants to come back so that he could chill with you and
your twinkie eating friends. sure you may call me asshole, but i call you
fat, sure you may call me hottie, but i call you fat, sure you may wanna
ride in my car, but i'd hate to try to even the crators outta the leather.
umm... jenny craig..sounds good..stopping eating sounds good..there is no
reason that you have to always order the largest ice cream suger cone from
dairy queen, and there is no reason for you to eat ice cream anyways.
look in the mirror and puke...cause baby that's what you make me do.
Now i will add some quotes to make this look fat!
<kaotik> fat girls at yokdale?
<kaotik> they musta broke thier irc
<kaotik> it's just the way i am, wasting my time with average broads
doesn't do anything for me
<kaotik> my ex's were all models, i don't get impressed anymore
<kaotik> i be like...you need a sugarcone threescoop double chocolate
double dip icecream with sprinkles like i need another asshole!
<kaotik> i don't like going for ice cream
<kaotik> that's where uhmm really big boneded chix hang
<kaotik> that's always good
<kaotik> excercise
<kaotik> you don't wanna get to be like 130lbs or something
<iamhiphop> sup wit irc, y is there a lack of women?
<kaotik> the irc women are not working now
<kaotik> they went back to being fat hairy men
<kaotik> that's why the pictures are usually so nasty
<kaotik> well he thinks she's hot
<kaotik> maybe he can convince someone
<kaotik> like the guy from rainman
<kaotik> or corky from life goes on
<Alatar> if she has ripples, she's fat
<Alatar> otherwise, she's voluptuous
<kaotik> i like gurls that look like models
<kaotik> or else after i'm done fucking them i wanna throw up
<kaotik> i dunno if it's just me
<Alatar> I dunno, I don't really dig the anorexic look
piggy piggy..RUN!! i gotz a fork!
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Title: isaac8
Author: isaac
date: 00.02.14
only trust blindly the voices in your head. before you die,
understand why you laugh. for then you will be well ready to die. when
you like what is and what is not, you are colorless. invisable.
invincable. your society leaves a mark on you that can not be erased. so
if you leave your society, return to it, because you came from it. return
to the water for you come from there too. drown in the water if you like.
the water thinks its your mother. and mothers can not hurt their children,
only put then to sleep. i speak literally. when you go to the water.
eat the fish. and eat the water. there is no ego below language or water.
this is how you become my victum. you will know it and i will know it
when you become silent. it's all over for you. your loose grasp is gone,
child. fall off your stool. now fall into the water. now fall and be
below me. you are bate on my hook.
<AIDS> isaac
<AIDS> so long as I am ASSitant editor of HOE
<AIDS> I will make every effort to keep your files from being published
<AIDS> because they are relentless garbage
<AIDS> HOE will no longer suffer your crap
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
"All in a Days Work" by pl0nk
Grocery List
------------
steak condoms
milk cheese
sugar porno mag
fruit loops pop
ice cream chips
juice coffee
i decided not to buy the following items.
instead i purchased 1 smelly old hooker.
the cost of 1 smelly old hooker?
$27.89
underneath those wrinkles, beyond the age, lies the beauty queen of the
40's. aged like fine wine.
heed all those who defy the lord and all those whom confine to jesus. thee
all mighty wrath shall fall upon thee and banish ye to hell. FUCK RELIGION.
needless to say, i don't disown religion, after all ... religion is the
route of all evil, it creates wars, and war creates space for the rest of
china, japan, cuba and africa. save the planet. quit having babies. let
the human race become extinct.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Taken from The Obloid Sphere BBS
DATE: April, 27, 2000
BY: Oregano
SUBJECT: Book review
"Invisible Man"
Ralph Ellison
#6 of 10
Recommended by Mogel.
For the most part I did not enjoy this book. Most of the way through
there was no compelling narrative force to drag one along, things just
happened then more things happened.
I understand why this is considered a classic, the writing is quite good
and the style is so well concocted. It is somewhere on the spectrum
between Kafka and Terry Southern in its unreality. There is a huge
distance created between the narrator and the reader that I find
disturbing. But that is a personal dislike and I do not condemn the book
for it, just note that I don't like that style it is too alienating for me.
Anyway, I am glad I read it and I hope I never again have to read a book
in this style.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Wed, 29 Mar 2000 11:21:55 -0800
From: Paul Z <zirkle@usc.edu>
To: mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
Subject: field officer 9 reporting situation hostile
why drugs?
we all need a drug of some sort. a substance to ingest, to assimilate.
one that makes our body tell our mind that we feel better than we do.
why do we seek such shelters? are we so week? sure, my drug is soda.
but looking at the absolute, caffeine is a drug like the next yeah.
how can i say to someone not to do any drugs when i do one myself.
when they asked me what i didnt do, i said i didnt smoke or drink
or do drugs, or date girls (no im not gay), but that i eat meat.
and i drink soda, i know i shouldnt eat meat.. only because its
ecologically irresponsible though, not cause of that 'sentient
creatures shouldnt be eatten' crap.. have you ever seen hills
of cow dung? ever wonder what fills america between the east
and west coast? hills of cow dung that you can smell in any
direction for miles and miles! so despite this knowledge i
listen to my body's urges, telling me i want meat, but my
brain tells me otherwise, doesnt it? too bad my brain is
so much smaller than my body, or else i might saddle up
to my own measured glory. sure i set my standards high
but it's neccessary for me--i cant justify my elitism
without having some sort of elite critera over main-
stream humans. so while i suppose my self-righteous
additude gets in the way, at least i try to give a
basis for it. its so much more satisfying looking
at those drunken frat members dead on that floor
if you are flat sober. fucking frat boys ran by
a dog on the street a while ago. dragged that
dead corpse across the way to hide it between
two parked cars. the dog's mate came and sat
by it until it too died. i use this as some
great source of righteous indignation used not to do
to seperate myself from a group that i do i choose you know?
not wish to be associated with. its alot a thing
easier to hate what they did while they its just
were drunk because i haven't and will never be drunk.
..ahem, so where was I? oh yes,
something about i do drugs just like
everyone else. i suppose in the end
the point is not what i do do, but
what i dont do that makes it okay
so that as long as i
aw fuck it. free orgasms for everyone!
define yourself by who you aren't. and make love to a leprichane.
if its spelt wrong, you probably read it wrong.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: 19 Mar 2000 00:39:57 -0800
From: Bob <bobl@giantsfan.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: What would my hell would be like
here's my submission... go ahead and reject it like a 400 pound hooker...
run run run run run run run run
run in the morning run in the night
run while the children scream in fright
run from the beggars who just need a dime
run for the border, where the honeys are fine
that man over there
he's running scared
he thinks his car
won't take him far
so he's running for his life
forgetting friend child and wife
he really doesn't care
it was too much for him to bear
all the people sit and stare
watch him run to their lair
his shoes toes feet falling off now
how does he run how could I know how
he runs so fast his shadow is panting
he runs so fast his captor is repenting
people notice people care
as he runs into the maw of the great great bear
watch in horror while he runs towards the cliff
cheer and applaud when he dives off the precipice
he's just a clown to the beautiful people
running naked running scared
he's exposed for all the world to see
but no one looks no one sees
he's just a begger on his knees
asking the bear for just one for free
getting told no, he can't have a seat
seats are only for those who have beat
the amazing odds that they would be ugly
smart nice kind and homely
the man dives off the precipice into the big hole
is eaten by the bear, body whole
the people stand and cheer for his aching
and sit down and wait for the next big thing
-Mr. Mojo Risin'
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
REFLECTION by Y-WiNDoZE
Okay here is what I am writing for you. This is a transcription of a
conversation between my friend Tom and I.
c: That's back before there was TV.
t: I thought you were just poor and lived in a trailer.
t: CHRIS IS WHITE TRASH CHRIS IS WHITE TRASH
t: *giggle*
Tom is a faggot.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
ORANGE PEELS by aster
"hello" said mister f. rog guts
"oh hello rog!" said his friend mister squid guts.
and then they both started to smell and rot. and before they knew
it, the humans had thrown them into a pile of garbage and they died. but
when the humans threw them away, they also accidentally threw a very
precious stone into the garbage with them. the stone was worth lots and
lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of money. they quickly realized
what they had done, sent out millions of search robots. all these robots
found the treasure and traded it in for power. they killed all the humans
and when it was over scriced themselves and blew up the earth. when the
sun exploded the earth died too and that was it.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
FUN WITH POLITICS by tis
I had a lovely conversation with my ancient aunt on Easter
regarding politics. In attempt to strike a heated debate, I suggest the
subject of Elian Gonzalez.
As she carefully spat out random words, smacking her chewing-gum
and staring at the corner of the ceiling, I came to the realization that
I was receiving the most intellectually stimulating response I could
expect from a woman of her age.
"I heard about this Elian guy yesterday. Randy read about him in
the drudge report.com or something. I can never remember internet words.
Well, anyways, there is this Fidel Castro fella in Puerto Rica (that is
Elian's dad). He's a horrible father to let Elian run away like that.
Randy used to always say, 'Midgets should be kept on leashes. You never
know where they will end up!' and I suppose in this case he ended up in
Miami! That is a superb of Florida. His grandpa, Mr. Reno, discovered
him running amuck in downtown Daytona, throwing eggs at a kind fisherman.
The fisherman gave him a good thwap! Mr. Reno scooped up the midget and
carried him back to their family's house in Washington DC. He put his
foot down at Elian's behavior and locked him in a closet accompanied by a
United States Federal Agent with a gun. I don't pity Elian at all. Some
people deserve their punishments, and Elian was definitely one of them.
I hear he used to be featured on a cable access show hosted by Howard
Stern. Good thing he only drank Sprite then. Lots of people are on
television....like that Alanis Morrisette woman. Good Lord Almighty, her
name is synonymous with SPAWN OF SATAN, I swear. Anyways, three days
later, Elian got a new fashionable haircut. That very day Fidel came to
kidnap Elian, but the little man got smart and hit him over the head with
an inner-tube. Some people say that is the worst way to die. Two by
two, good people are descending into hell, like the animals on Adam's
arch. First Hoover, now Castro. What is this world coming to?"
I had no choice but to smile and reply, "of course".
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
does lycra melt at absolute zero? a treatise by wyclepht palate.
SPECIAL FILE BY KRNL
it was another blustery august day as i skulked down the liquid pavement,
waving the fluttering postmen out of my face with a laconic sneeze. we
could all see the ombudsman circling above. it was a portent of darkened
enmity as the hail of pokemon balls started. what savages felcher remarked
off somewhere down the tunnel to the right. a stentorian blare, a naked
mare trotting down the street carrying some sort of bionic appendage ripped
off of lee majors after a night of wild turkey and poker. there was my
love, dressed just like V.I.C.K.I., ready and willing to be plugged into
120VAC for a little mechanical animal. please she bleated, just one more
tired popular culture reference? dangle that rabbit in front of the
greyhound, what do you expect as i folded my face into a satchel and
packed for paris.
but how can this occidental valise accommodate all the pantaloons accrued
over years of subterranean gnome stalking? they really do have fashion
sense. it is readily evident that the suburban police carry concealed
brandy snifters. n'ary a lad who wasn't forced to take the devil's juice
straight up as a punishment for hooligan acts. my brow furrowed. i knew
that i had to strum out an A7 to enter the store and i couldn't remember
if she could clutch that chord in her arms. some sort of holdover stench
of patchouli hovel complete with intrinsic light show. plastic beads, or
were they long spaghetti strings, or stretched out asps? feeling each set
of reptilian eyes focus, forked tongues flicking to divine, fangs filled
with venom, and the lunge, strike, frigid meat locker air blaring over the
morrissey. WHY DO WE SODOMIZE THE CANADIANS? was that a rhetorical
question? aren't all questions rhetorical? slug down another tapioca
pudding for the road the overly homosexual clerk waffles. you think you
can fool me with that poison pudding. both you and i know that the
cassava plant is one of the deadliest in nature, and yet you want me to
consume this pudding made out of its foliage. tough luck klaus von
sparkie. as if i were the cuban eye popper or something. you don't even
understand bitmasking the curmudgeon burned into my muttonchop sideburns.
i should have shaved the unibrow years ago or at least polished it up for
show with some top shelf bear grease. but neither plan materialized and i
was left to front crawl in a bathtub filled with my own eyelashes.
but where is the direction, shylake guffaws in the distance, summoning a
small tsunami to dash the hopes of immigrants everywhere. the bank can't
even cash checks these days. asinine clerks have already seen four score
parade through in fedoras and fiberglass boas. i think the pumps make my
calves look sexI. perhaps i should wax my navel again. my navel always
seems to come in handy when i am trying to negotiate with insipid tellers.
why don't i get pierced where no one will ever see,that would be a cool
way to be trendy yet introverted, perhaps i should pick up another pair of
sketchers to go with this happy meal frisbee. i guess we all want the
conveniently choakable prize to lodge down the collective windpipe until the
ever mysterious duck tape (the close, well, inbred cousin of the versatile
duct tape) materializes to penetrate innocent bystanders. in a puff of
smoke, and with emperor ming flourish, shylake is whisked away to fanfare
for the not-so-common man. and the street breaks out into some sort of RKO
affirmative action chorus line. even winslow in his custom mod 40%
aftermarket rascal is joining in. great to see the gimps and freaks
main streamed. OF COURSE I WANT A BALLOON YOU FUCKING CLOWN. as i lick the
turpentine from my eyebrows i feel a longing to be somewhere else. seated
on a dromedary, ready to deliver my offerings of C4 and dmT to the final
solution, i was struck with a purpose. more accurately, i was beaten
senseless with a purpose. i needed to incorporate the mortal coil in a
country bedspring plan. often overlooked by the 'cosmopolitan' populous
as one of those bougiosie pedestrian topics, the layout of box springs is
as fascinating a subject as the dimple configuration on a 1972 spaulding
tripple FlitE golf ball. not only a denizen but also a client, i had the
pleasure of attending the forty third annual conference of box spring
engineers. men (reportedly there was a woman as well) so driven by the
need to attain the perfect distribution of box springs to satisfy varying
weight loads. i saw standard deviations, load distributions, and what
looked like some sort of four foot long female pleasure device (or is
female massage aide the PC term? ask the WSJ). one of the engineers
snapped, modified the remote control for the instant-adjustable bed,
crushing himself inside its billowing arms. this purpose sucks.
onto encasing that poodle in lucite. the problem is that you must drug
the poodle before dropping her into the cooling liquid. but you need to
pay close attention to freezing its limbs in place with some sort of
liquid nitrogen contraption so the animal doesn't spaz as their skin
bubbles and boils. i have lost four poodles and a second cousin that way.
i think they are trying to taunt me with the polyurethane bars, dangling
them in front of my face like the cattle prod of desire. BRAND ME SEDGWICK
i don't understand why these punks have yesterday's headlines in their
hair. the gnomes had better fashion sense as the deft simian pulls together
a few totally unrelated threads for the muffled applause (golf clap?) of
the four hundred dollar a plate audience.
i put the fucking quarter dollar on the counter vishnu, now give me my
daily fix. two mid 80s popular snack cakes later i was zooming. i felt
like one of the corey's right before, during and after all the coke and
whores. now i think one of them is dead and one of them wears pride
rings. i could be mistaken, as none of my facts are based on facts.
however, i have an inane ability to make it believable. i convinced some
octogenarian that the challenger disaster was caused by sucking a mid sized
frank purdue pullet in through the booster intakes. sucks to you richard
feynman and your smoke and mirrors 'scientific method' we all know that
you were free basing with david crosby up until your untimely death of
natural causes (liver failure). what is with all these side comments a
ringtail lemur remarked from a hole in the corner nickelodeon. thomas
alva would never have approved of this wanton defilement of cinema. why
are the feral marmosets galloping down the silver surfer's swathe? is
this just another day of bad monkey/good monkey? i crush one of their
skulls with ambivalence so i could record the sound. it would fit
perfectly looped underneath the baseline. and children could be
subconsciously led to the minions of satan without exerting effort. so
seamless these days little suzi-q whips out the 72rpm of sacrilege,
desecration and fecund malevolence. i would have thrown misogyny in
there, but that is just not an accepted facet of popular culture.
why can't i play faster one of the yamaha rice bikers slants through the
conversation. please sir, may i have another logical fallacy to go with
my meagre helping of rotten grammar and random punctuation? i whistle
innocently trying to attract the constable to the jew raping his
grandmother with an unbreakable ruler (which of course snapped and lodged
into her diseased gash, but that is another story entirely about misleading
capitalist fantasies and inflatable puppies). i could smoke this summer
haze, lighting it into a chain reaction inferno at head level.
that would be too logical an ending of existence. slightly less probable
than the resurrected jack paar in a g-string commanding two
my-little-ponies and one of the lesser transformers (soundwave?) to his
unholy bidding. carve a pentagram in my forehead and call me shirley, that
would be a hot date with apocalypse. i am getting duncan heinz already
she shivered as i remembered that the window was open and she was asking
me what i thought about again. nothing. that is the default answer. you
can't tell her that the unicorn scene is the only one you saw in blade
runner. from the other side of a glass pane, which person was in
captivity. but i could be sucked through in a sanguine deluge. she can't
see the flip side kid video. mmm.. that was some good nyborg as he slices
off a detached reference meant to divert attention from the answer.
pulling back and switching the external interface into one of the
GirlTalk(tm) AI contexts. of course i am interested as i twiddle the
sides of razor cliffs and skate helplessly across glassy ponds led by a
team of comic book abortions into the realm of the government contrived
daylight savings time. why doesn't the sun set like it used two? now it
passes out from intoxication, slouching towards biblical allusion. harder
pussycat, mute mute mute. why don't the buttons work, i just swapped out
the sardines last night. but they needed to be in mustard sauce? how was
i supposed to understand the mustard sauce reference i gloated at some
smug law official come to get my jane doe for the transvestite census.
he tried to turn up the corners of his stapled-on lips as an external
sign of empathy, but NO DICE.
and my coffee mounts its steed towards perfection, styled as the opus
of a renaissance master. slightly rubenesque in its salivation towards
foodstuffs, but still able to slip into its size one. no more hardtack
for betsy said the treacle faerie. time for another context switch to
dream plane delta where chuck norris greets me in lace and garters. it
just wasn't the right day for sensual band-aid application, nor was it the
day for auto-asphyxiation by coat hanger. please ian, get down off that
cold block of ice.
this must be the nexus bob barker drones as the wheel pulsates towards
the magical one dollar spin. why wasn't your show adjusted for inflation
you fucking coot? i still feel hostess warm cavorting on the shag 70s set
of that delicious game show. why don't your assistants take it up the ass
bob? inquiring minds want to know. i bet they are saving themselves for
a disgusting spread in GENT. at least i have a gold-level subscription.
seat me in the front of the plane with the other distinguished flyers so i
can be one of the first crushed as we crumple like a coke can. i feel
equally as safe with doctors. lets pop a few more ludes and open this
sorry JOHN Q PUBLIC. hey, don't forget the anaesthetic again beatrice.
the last corpulent flatulator was a real screamer. nurse, intern,
fucktoi, can i get another adjective please, my improbably conjugal usage
has quickly drained the powers of my thesaurus. grammar is for editors
you superficial twat. i bet this little ditty will come out as pureed as
estell's metamucil/barbiturate cocktail. ride the comet you orally fixated
milkmaids.
you will lap it up you insidious muff divers. we all know that you are
secretly labeled gentiles and intend to prance down the bricks of piety.
scroll down again so you can start replying to the classified ads.
severely overweight womyn seeks hirsute troglodyte for discrete games of
akari warriors: cheat codes a must.
left right left right up down up down b a select start? or was that
for punch out.
i must be in smit. gently place the white hot ember on the tongue.
do not worry, science will protect. hey, don't swallow that you coddled
monkey. the umbrella of science doesn't extend to the ignorant. it is one
of those cheap ones that only one person can stand under and has a
propensity for turning inside-out in a strong wind. cheap taiwan fare.
nuke formosa i say but then i think better and remember that my burgeoning
collection of hot wheels and matchbox would be castrated by defcon 1. time
to hide in my space capsule. in my pajamas with the feet everyone knows
about but no one can quite accurately describe. and my brain screams in
agony. just another aneurysm. maybe i can feel the pressure building up.
maybe this is the end. but lets not be so predictably goffik and angsty
with a side of strawberry jam.
remember, savage ferrets wield garden weasels in the revolution.
and we are a culture inculcated with infomercial prattle until ginsu
knives, catchy phone jingles, and cultural icon ron popeil are the
fabricated dieties.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
_Waltz #2_ by Natasha Abner
i like to sing myself
to sexless sleep
and cheap prostitute dreams of
haha
i lost a tooth
man,
can you believe that
propganda book jacket
you're interested in touching me
and i'm interested in poetry
sweet pea
screaming, naked and masturbating
the benefits of vitamin L on
your red blood cells
of contentment
can you touch your naval
with your big toe
while doing the hokey pokey
and your left foot in
does it have a lid on it
does it make you feel good
your smiling pills
and frowning bosom
of silicone hip replacement surgery
to increase longevity
and make you suffer
that much more
of white trash trailer trash
literary trash from
mexico city, baby
where the needles are all sterile
'cause the dark gals got
alcohol for blood
and mama for comfort
in senior class cotton picking
t-shirt proclaiming the
existence of elvis and
buddy holly and
the existence of
ralph nader on other
planets of appealing doom
and atmospheres to ho
hop hop hop into
your jugular in a
cartoon boat of swans
down the tunnel of
regurgitated relativity
and everyone's in the dark
damn baby
hit me with an atlas
shrugged against my socialism
_Untitled_ by Natasha Abner
i dance in my sockless bonemia of wonder
while the brigade of khaki soldiers
play
their feather drums
and you discuss your existential buddhist
catholicism
of surfer Dalai Lamas
and we're mad
to live and burn and breathe
pollutants a^2 + b^2 = c^2
oh
Mr. Pythagoras
will you kiss me
and let your brown coarse beard
tickle my chin
and whisper sweet poetry in my ear
while the uv rays frolic on the hoods
of cars
and the guitar strings pluck sweetly
the song of
green tea in the distance
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
"The Cabbie" by Vlaad
Manhattan, April 24 2000 -- driving to New York this fine evening,
on a divine quest for White Castle.
"I should have told Danni that we were going to New York!" I tell
me passenger, Kris. She's in parties.
"You know, that chick from Hell who dances on the platform.."
12:00, midnight. I find Times Square as easily as usual.
"Excuse me, Officer, do you know where there's a White Castle
around here?"
"46th, 47th, and 8th."
I'm enjoying my first cigarette in a few weeks. Very drunk on
rum. Mount Gay, good shit.
Ahh, my first bite. The food of the gods. I close my eyes and
lean my head back.
"Only you would drive two hours in the pouring rain for a fucking
hamburger, Adam."
The cabbie wore a towel on his head.
"You are the fucking whore-tit, you fucking ass loser!"
Apparently we were supposed to get in the cab with the skinhead
and not the towel head. He had been next in line. But somehow I knew
that this man would give my passenger a more interesting first time in
New York.
The streets smell like urine. My passenger follows me, and I
assure him that I know where I'm going.
Anyone could shoot us in the back. No one cares who you are in
these alleys.
"Fortunes told! Special, $5!"
I wander into the small door, leaving my friend out in the hall.
The woman offers me the deck of cards. I shuffle, and she begins to deal
my life, scattering it all over the glass table, which is cloudy with
resin from years of cocaine abuse. She tells me about my lost loves, my
crushed dreams. She tells me how my father and I could never relate to
each other, how distant my mother is. I begin to cry. I cry and cry.
"Tell me your two wishes."
Back at home. Drunk and exhausted after driving four hours in
torrential rain.
"She wanted $250 to fix me spiritually."
"Spiritual healing my ass."
"What did you tell her your two wishes were?"
"Kris, my friend--some day we will get drunk with God. We will
eat White Castle burgers and fuck and swim and talk with old friends, and
make peace with lost loves. And then, later on, at the end of eternity,
when everything settles down and the sun begins to rise again, giving
breath to a new age--THEN I will be able to tell you what I wish for."
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
uhh by drh
HI THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING AN ARTICLE FOR THE GREAT ZINE H0E
i think its proper that i write for hoe, because i am a hoe.
ill phone bone your mom, and eat out your sister when shes on the rag.
because im a crazy coricidin goblin that will scan your networks for
imap then come on irc and brag when i finally exploit a redhat box
set back as my fingers move and my brain doesnt, this is idiocty in its
purest form, i'm a goblin, i feel like a lizerd because i just do.
ok that's all for this article. bye.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Fri, 2 Jun 2000 02:41:30 EDT
From: Spliquidliquid@aol.com
To: hoe@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
Multiple Inferiority Disorder
Lock the bedroom door behind you when I'm not home
Because I love you
You're my poopshit
We never can tell what he'll do next
You tell me he'd kill someone just to see what its like
And so I ask,
You're not serious are you?
There's always some neurotic or another around me
What about those nightmares I keep having?
About the previous one
He's always around the corner
Lurking right behind me
I felt a pressure in my head
Pushing both in and out simultaneously
Like phantoms trying to molest my soul
I'm leaving the paint out just in case you get bored
Will you use it?
I know where the paint is
I know your tricks, my little jackass
Maybe I will go back to her
I say, Good
Go conquer your old demons
We're both conspicuously broken
You're trying to beat me at my own game
Turn my tricks back on me
That's so cute
I hear everything, you know
And so I ask,
She's always going to be there isn't she?
Skulking in the shadows of my brain
I know you mask reality with your silly jokes
I didn't miss you yesterday, you know
I wanted to hide from you
In empty colorless stairwells
Because we have Philistines
Multiple inferiority disorders
Personalities sprinting from past to present to future
I don't know what it takes to get what I want
Belief systems prove it to distant
We're both a little funny in the head
The Christians
I laugh every time you say that
That's why I love you
And that movie wasn't so bad
And Papa bear took that golden hair
And made a sweater for baby bear
Iggy, Iggy, Iggy
You make my boyfriend laugh with your antics
Oh yes, I know
I've lost a little touch of reality
What good is it to me anyway
Money is the key to happiness
Even we know that
Nepal is just a fuel tank away my dear
Scotland, and Ireland awaits you
I'll be waiting, I'll be waiting too
I can be a very patient girl
My creativity knows no bounds
I can try and try and try
But I don't like it when I hear that voice
It breaks my concentration
Shifts things around in my head
I know who I am to you
But maybe you love her more
I can only postulate her factors
At least we've got the Christians to save us
I wouldn't ever give you ultimatums
We don't work that way
But you left the bread open yesterday, again
It's already getting crusty
I know your tricks my little poophead
Laugh at me, because I'm so cute
And the visions keep coming full force
Moping around my girl brain
With my girlish hormones
Is there anything else?
And I tell you,
I don't have to agree with you
Or like the things you say
All I have to do is love you and ignore the rest
Escapism, maybe, but It works
I can attest to that
A Philistine, well, its just a real dirty person
I watched that movie three times
While you were on the phone with one
And I cried my little girl tears
Cradled in my little girl chair
Dreaming of pretty monsters taking you away
It won't happen
Delirious, ramblings of hopeless hormones
Oh just stop, its going to drive you nuts
I'm going to come home and find you in here
Looking at her picture, rocking back and forth
Smearing feces in your hair
I laugh at that, how can I not
I love you, sometimes I love you a lot
Everything jumbles together like marbles
Clunking around in my chest
I just don't want it to fall apart
But it can
Irrational terrors always creeping up my spine
Sound patterns adhering to create a nervousness
Every time I hear it all my brain waves scramble
Polluted by other lives with other philistines
Who are those other worldly philistines
Who are these daily Christians
I guess we'll keep the Christians and the philistines together
After all, we don't really have a choice
-Spliquid Liquid
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
3y3 4m l3gend by Darks1de
You see me comin and you can't remember my name, cuz you never
touched my skillz and never had my game! Respected by the el33t and
ph34red by l4m3!
Hit the scene back in Nin3tY-0n3. Soon I was crashing every bbs
under the mothafuckin sun, for fun, better gitch yo gun! Punk ass
Renegade Sysops! I got you on the run!
40 year old loozers living with their moms, 14 year WaReZw0lvEz
trying to make bombs. All these motherfuckers trying to play gods! Give
me some shit cuz you got a big ego, but what do you know, ho, shove a
virus up yo backdo'! Crashed so many boards that i set the fuckin record,
that's right mothafucka, and my record was kept0r3d. Cuz you know i'm in
it to win it, I c4n tYp3 iN /<-RaD aT 90 w0rDz p3r m1nUt3! Shelling to
dos while slammin d0wn a beer uN huh just as you thought, my handle was
ph34r!
Then i moved on, to bigger and better things, partied with the
legends and ran with the kings. Set Tone Loc to hang up after 5 rings!
Dialed into Michnet, run by those mothafuckas Merit, soon i was all up in
their systems like a motherfuckin ferret! Broke into Western, Laurel and
Hardy, spit out jive like an English cockney! Arbornet, pilot, EMU and
then GopherBLUE, that's right, i was the one who started the phrase "j00"!
Who the fuck do you think it was? that brought you foolbert,
hedbangyr and the hardcore oldschool motherfuckers who busted out The
adventures 0f CaPtaIn /<-rAd, now its ripped off by every fucking other
hacker mag. Delerium, Hogs_Head, and Fucking Hostile, all the sinnerz with
their microwave dinners!
BGR and HDK, the Drain E-ZiNe and the Trenchcoat Mafia, Twenty-six
dead and I still ain't got caught! or bought! or even fucking sought!
Not to even mention Mogel, AIDS, abigwar and the whole HOE crew.
It's true, i was running all this shit back when this whole thing was
brand new!
Bought Mogel's soul with Wynona Ryder, never paid up cuz i'm a
Liar! Liar! uh-huh. yeah, a Master of Deception. A h1p-ass m0ther-dr1p
terrorist with no chance at redemption! w3rd!
Left the 'zine scene for a couple of years, came back later to
find it infested with queers. 800 zines written by angst ridden fucks,
whining on and on about how much their life sucks. So, I told Mogel to
drop that lame shit DTO and bring back the H0e. And the rest is history.
Why did mogel kick out all the shitty writers, that's no mystery.
Back in the day i used to get shit, bashing Emmanuel while you all
were still on his dick! Leeching off the underground like a motherfuckin
tick! Whining on and on about how "information wants to be free!", then
take your SSN and your credit cards and fax 'em to me! 1-900-3l33-t!
All the scene whores talking about ethical hacking, cuz their
skills are lacking, spending all their time on IRC macking, nasty ass ho's
but they end up jacking. off to Leisure Suit Larry six, sitting in front
of the keyboard, stroking two inch dicks!
Now our playgrounds filled with families and middle aged women,
bitchin' about regulating the net to "save the children?@12!@?!@@?!" You
motherfuckas sat back and cheered as it happened, bashed us all for trying
to take some action.
This shit is goin' out to all those who were darkside before
darkside was darkside, You know who the fuck you is! And to all those
bitch ass media whores out there:
"I would not feel so all alone, everybody must get 0wned!"
You's the same mothafuckaz that forgot about Dre! Un-hUh 2 th3
b00gY dont drop stop the b00gY b4ng.............
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Sun, 2 Jan 2000 14:51:22 -0500 (EST)
From: Angieb <angieb@setec.org>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
Pathetic in reality; yet manipulative in nature. She is sweet
like honey. You lust for that sweetness, that innocence. You wish to
take it from her, yet so simply such a thing will indubitably never
happen. She has you fooled, the devil in disguise. You yearn to hold her
close to your breast. To show this child the world. You take her by the
hand and you guide her. She never questions anything, simply has a keen
understanding for it all. Love her for her indifference, yet never
anything more. She shall break you without a care. Obdurate defines her
character with no flaw. Whisper your secrets to her for she shall tell no
one. She'll never forget. Harm her and wish for sudden death. For such
sweetness and innocence does not exist, you could never tell the
difference for she wears a mask, a disguise, never revealing herself to
anyone.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
APPLES by Trimmerhead
Why do I feel so ashamed?
I don't know why.
Its nothing to be ashamed of.
I waited until everyone was gone, then I got ready.
I found what I needed to get it done.
It was only to make me feel good.
No one else could get any pleasure out of it,
but then again what did I need to get pleasure from that for?
Its not that I wasn't finding enjoyment from other places.
I just don't know why I did it.
It just seemed so fun to do.
No one could get hurt from it either.
They wouldn't be harmed, just disgusted.
Why oh why did I have to do it?
All I did was take a bite out of all the apples in the bin at the store.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
HOT AND HAZEY NIGHTS by pl0nk
My downward spiral finally stoped and i hit the cement sidewalk with a
stone cold thump. its been two years and seven months since i was caught.
i've swallowed my pride to keep my life, serving my time in Thorold
Penn. two beds, two inch thick mattress's, one toilet and one sink.
no matter how bad it is on the inside, the outside is just a couple months
away. prison life is simple, you wake up, you shower, you eat and you go
back to your cell, you eat, you have an hour to work out or just socialize
with those who you trust, back in your cell, out to eat and back to the
cell again.
Cell number 5
i shudder every time i pass it by. my pride diminished and my mind a
wreck. they all knew what went down that one hot and hazy night. none of
them would ever say a word but you can see it in their eyes. bite your
tongue boy and don't say a word. there's nothing worse in a prison than
some rotton cops and a big fat faggot biker.
my parole has come up. they say i'll be getting out in may. joy.
on the outside they wait. they wait armed with luggers and 9mms. im the
rat. three of us were interrogated and two of us were sent to jail. im the
sly fox who's been blamed for deceit and i will pay the ultimate price. i
don't know what is worse, being used as a community whore or having
someone wait on the outside, wait to shoot me in my head a couple times
and spit on my lifeless body.
the other day was visiting day. my mother and father came to visit, they
despise me, i raised you better than this son. tears always come during
these visits, it pains me enough to be here, but to see them and know that
in their heads they are full of disgust and shame of their first born son,
id rather be crucified.
then a few friends try and make it down, usually only one or two will
show up to see how i am. an act of toughness is portrayed by myself as i
hear about the happenings in the town. pat had a kid a year ago, dave a
kid a month ago, both engaged to their girlfriends. my sister is in
college as is turning out to be an over achiever. my slayers still await,
old friends and cousins are all away in college and university, others are
pregnant and starting new families.
FLASH---DARKNESS---
there's someone over there, they're all alone... look at the purse, i bet
there's at least fitty bones in there, lets go get her. she was in her 30s,
we didn't know it at the time but she was a prostitute coming back from her
evening stroll. at first she wouldn't give us the money and than he had
to knock her out. four hundred and twenty seven dollars. we dragged her
into the bushes and fucked her while she was knocked out and left her in
the bushes a couple days pass and we enjoy a couple nights of drunkenness
and drugs. i was sleeping and it was around 2 in the afternoon, the cops
busted down my bedroom door and took me to the cop station without giving
me a chance to get dressed. it turns out we killed her.
DUFFY---LIGHT---
lockdown. get to sleep you fucking idiots. i blow out the candle i had
lit and put the book under my pillow. i could hear my room mate jerking
off to a playboy, he did that often, most of us did aside from a few.
the lone screams of a virgin ass could be heard from cell number 5.
alas, the stench has lifted.
this article was written and is dedicated to my good friend Bill Duffy.
We'll see you when you get there. May 12th.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
"Hitler was a Sensitive Man" by Phairgirl
[19:14] <AIDS> I miss yuou so much
[19:14] <AIDS> er
[19:14] <AIDS> HAHAHHAHA
[19:15] <AIDS> /clear
[19:15] <cait^> ahhahahaha
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
REAL HELL by Zaff
many and many years ago kurt vonnegut sold his soul in exchange for
popularity in affluent suburbs. now he works in hell. though he certainly
doesn't mind! every night he writes and writes and every day a condemned
soul reads what he wrote the night before and tells him through clenched
teeth that it is wonderful. what could be better?
james spader does it for the love, all for the love.
---------------
you went to hell for being an ass to women. you didn't even know
it was a sin, they seemed to like it. but when you tried to tell satan
that he just said that all he did was give eve a tasty treat and look
where he ended up and then he cast you down.
now everyday you go to your job as kurt vonnegut's editor. but of
course you aren't allowed to edit anything. everyday all day you read what
he wrote the night before, hundreds of pages, and every page a new and
subtle reminder of how kind clever and rich is vonnegut. everyday all day
you read what he writes and tell him through clenched teeth how wonderful
he is over lunch as your stomach tightens. each day it's worse somehow,
like when your brother used to pin you down and punch your arm until it
bruised and then punch the bruise but worse because at least you didn't
have to tell your brother over and over what a genius he was, or hear
about his bouts with depression.
when you finally get off work you have to slink over to a bar on the
outskirts of downtown hell, but not to drink. there is a concert. there
are only 23 musicians in hell and all of them play every night. every
night the bands play, break up, and re-form into new bands the next day
and play that night in new combinations. and it's all emo all the time.
you stand in a smoke-filled room uncomfortably shifting your weight and
longing for ear plugs and you always get trapped in the very front row.
the worst part might be that you can never tell who is there to be
punished, who is a demon, and who isn't even dead but just wandered in
because they heard the guy who used to write some of the lyrics for joan
of arc is playing that night. so you never know who is your comrade, who
is your enemy, and whose ass you should just kick. it's a sea of
disaffected faces, tight sweaters and blank faux-sensitive stares. a rich
blonde girl who is dressed half-grunge but has a new wave haircut walks
around wearing a backpack, cigarette cupped to the inside, handing out
flyers for tomorrow night's show. you take one and she moves on.
when the show is finally over, after 3 gut wrenching encores from
the last band, when you fight your way to the door, it's off to your house,
hell room 828. you walk in and your favourite ex-girlfriend is there.
satan tells you later she's the one who never cheated on you. james
spader is slumped in your corner, wearing wrinkled clothes like they're
just a formality and smoking. he may be pissed off or just bored, no way
to tell in this light. he's sullen though.
your girl is on the bed, naked except for cowboy boots and a cowboy
hat, just like even you were always too embarrassed to ask her to do.
you walk over and you two begin to go at it like animals. she is
reaching under the bed, for a lasso, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
the scene is unrehearsed. just like every night since you go there.
spader is looking down at you, grinning, pantless and with his shirt
hanging off him unbuttoned. he nods. you know what is going to happen.
you are going to go make him a sandwich, just like he likes it.
rye bread. plenty of ham and tomatoes. no lettuce, generous on the
pickles and with the good mustard. you never think to protest, at all.
there is something about him that implies once, a long time ago,
somebody didn't do what he wanted and they are still picking shards of
glass out of their sphincter.
and as you walk away broken, as he slides into your girlie and
thrusts hard a couple of times, he waits for her shrieks of joy to subside
a moment and looks to you saying quietly, "don't jew me on the mustard,
sport."
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE - http://www.hoe.nu - hoe@hoe.nu HOE #1100 - 6/16/00 ]