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pEz monthly magazine % issue #24
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pEz monthly rootin' tootin' rompin' stompin' jamboree % issue #24 % june,
ninteen ninety-five % president and head writer :: black francis % head
editor :: dead cheese % vice-president :: murmur % all rights reserved, but
two wrongs don't make a right 1995 % whq :: gba @ (215)750-0392 % bye bye
call the pEz monthly magazine wacky-fun information line @ (800)356-5050!
============================================================================
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:: contents under pressure ::
:: gracefully told by; black francis ::
in this fudge-a-licious issue of pEz monthly magazine :: murmur is
elite, basil, liberals and their shitty taste in music, 'shrooms, text file
ripping (?), random phone surveys, the adventures of billy; the retarded
dish boy (part one), the sad sad story of dead cheese, 'zine-con '95, french
dressing, fun 'n games with basset brown, don't tread on the salt marsh
fleabanes, frannie's infatuation with the pink ranger, frosted flakes, tom
petty, cold refreshing beverages, more from stinky, vampires, art fags, body
piercing, bi-sexuality, bell-bottoms, the most terrible poetry you've ever
laid eyes on, a-ko answers all those burning questions that fester somewhere
in your lower intestines, retards, sarcasm unbound, how to be cool like
mogel, hammer time, cheeseburgers, and relieving yourself on good ol' mom.
phew.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: love letters from black francis ::
:: only a dollar ninety-five per minute, by; black francis ::
welcome to another wacky issue packed full of pEz monthly escapades.
it's june, and you know what _that_ means, right?
well, neither do i.
anyway, i'm writing this way before this issue is due to be released,
so if it's a little out-dated or whatnot, don't come crying to me, you
little bastard!
i'm very happy with the way this issue has turned out _so far_. i'm
impressed. really. especially with murmur's work. his stuff on liberal
art schools this issue is super-de-duper. i also wrote more this issue than
i did for the last one. i also went back to writing some short story stuff,
which i haven't done in a long time. i'm working on some more short stories
now, and i'll probably hand them over to hoe or gasp or something. there's
another great thing about the "'zine scene" in comparison to the "ansi
scene"; you can write whatever the hell you want and submit to whoever the
hell you want, and still write for one group in particular or whatnot.
hell, you can even run your own 'zine, which more and more people
seem to be doing now. it's a welcome change, but, come on; writing your own
'zine isn't just for anyone. at least they're not starting more ansi
groups. that's _just_ what we need. more ansi groups.
"we're not lame, man. check out our first pack before you say
that."
eek. enough about ansi. i shudder at the thought.
jeepers. this is only the introduction and i'm already breaking off
into rants and whatnot. where's my valium?
well, anyhow, we got really mixed reviews on the last issue. some
people loved it as usual, and some people thought it flat-out sucked.
different strokes for different folks, i guess.
altougth, i did notice that the last issue was more editorials than
anything. there was almost no humor in there, whatsoever. i tried to
change that this issue, and i don't know how well it turned out. so, as
always, give me feedback!
send all suggestions, complaints, reviews, prescriptions, etc. to;
francis@tnce.com, or;
francis@squeaky.free.org.
for our friends without an internet account, you could always give
the pEz monthly vmb a ring and leave me a message there;
(800)402-2040, box #265
or, you could always give pEz monthly whq a ring-a-ding-ding;
goat blowers anonymous;
(215)750-0392
also, check out the kind-of-official pEz monthly ftp site at;
ftp.fc.net;
pub/deadkat/misc
one more thing before i split, 'zine-con is coming to philly this
summer, so, pack your bags and head on down to the city of brotherly love!
you'll get to meet the heads of such incredibly stupid 'zines such as
pEz monthly, hoe, gasp, jonas, and more! hey, if you're lucky, you may even
touch me or something. imagine the orgasmic pleasure you'd get out of that!
well, that's it from me for this issue. see you around next month.
i love you kids.
hugs and kisses,
funky frannie b
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: ask a-ko! ::
:: witty retorts compliments of; black francis ::
have a problem? well, don't we all.
anyhow; maybe our pal and yours, mr. a-ko, can help you out so that
you can possibly move on with your pathetic life. give it a shot, what else
do you have to lose, you worm? absolutely nothing!
all questions can be directed to;
francis@tnce.com, or;
francis@squeaky.free.org.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
i fear that i may be a lamer. the other day, my boyfriend said that i
was, but i think he might just be saying that to pressure me into sex.
what do you think?
a: you're a lamer. leave me alone, i'm masturbating. shut up, lamer.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
i recently hacked the internet and took it down, causing millions of
dollars in damages. do you think i was wrong?
a: shut up, lamer.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
could you please describe what exactly a "lamer" is?
a: only a lamer would ask that. lamer. shut up.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
i recently made a new box which will allow you to download a whole pizza.
do you think i should release the plans or keep it to myself?
a: only lamers download pizzas. now shut up. lamer.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
what kind of software should i use for my new bbb? I have 32 nodes of
36,500,000 baud modems with 150 gigabytes of nothing but h/p/a/v/c.
a: shut up, lamer. lamers shouldn't run boards. shut up.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
this is your mother, how come you don't return my phone calls?
a: because you're a lamer. shut up. lamer.
[-----]
q: dear a-ko;
am i a lamer?
a: uhm.. i'm not sure. just kidding! of course you are, lamer! shut up.
[-----]
now, don't you feel better already? i know _i_ do.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: basil; condiments chapter 45 ::
:: submitted by; murmur ::
i thought that i was in a state of flux, but i was actually in
albuquerque, looking for some moccasins. there were no moccasins to be
had, however, and i was forced into a large, barren, dome-like dome. there
were various forms of vegetation, but nothing enticingly edible. however,
there was an odd stream of french dressing oozing out of the corner of the
box at the far right of the ceiling. unfortunately, i was allergic, rattled
by the rush, and drowned by my conscience in the wake.
moral: lay off the 'shrooms, boy.
slurpee.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: t-file ripping? ::
:: gripping investigative report by; black francis ::
first, the "dewdle boys" had to deal with it, now we humble 'zine
folk have to do the same.
plagarism! that's right; _ripping_! flat-out ripping! this month,
we'll take a dramatic look at one such case in which "pip the angry youth"
as he likes to call himself, blantantly _stole_ a poem of mine originally
published in pEz monthly #22, modified it slightly, and re-published it in
his own 'zine that he likes to call "gasp" which stands for something about
monkeys or something. let's look at the proof!
[-----]
_my_ poem which was originally published in pEz monthly #22;
ode to pip the angry youth ::
pip. pip.
pip is really hip.
i payed $11 for the sponge album,
and boy was it a gyp.
my little sister likes to skip.
my little brother likes to flip.
but, me. yes, me.
all i like is pip!
[-----]
the ripped poem, as seen in gasp #33! this "pip" person should be
put to death!
ode to me
pip, you suck monkey balls
mother looks at you and falls
people run away in the halls
you are alone in the bathroom stalls
[-----]
how much longer will injustices like this go on? how long must we
put up with evil people such as this who _steal_ our hard work and pass it
off as their own?
i want justice, and i want it now!
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: the great myth of liberalism ::
:: submitted; by murmur ::
an epidemic is spreading through the minds of american youths.
whether or not this is a new epidemic is unknown and is quite frankly
immaterial. this epidemic involves a trend towards social conservatism.
the basic concept of this is simple, but first i'll start off by
presenting the event that sparked this pent-up rage. my college radio
station, wesn, which is a novel concept but falls short in some respects,
put on this alternative rock festival featuring 11 bands in twelve hours.
some of the bands sucked something fierce, but a few in particular, namely
this band out of champaign, illinois called the suede chain and this band
on giant records called certain distant suns, rocked my ass off. anyway, i
was there, for practically the whole thing, only leaving during one of the
crappier bands to go eat dinner. it was a murky day, it rained some, but by
about 9:30pm when headlining certain distant suns took the stage, it was no
longer raining. my campus of 1800 failed to show up for this event; i
estimate about 80 people (and that's a rather wild estimate, i suppose) were
present for the HEADLINERS. 80 people. and half of them were local high
school kids. so, we have 40 people from a campus of 1800 showing up for the
second biggest rock show that our campus held this year (the largest was the
indigo girls, who brought in about 1,500 people i've been told, largely from
our campus.)
now, i go to a small liberal arts school in the midwest. obviously
liberal sentiment exists, we managed to get at least a third, probably over
a half of the student body to go see the indigo girls, on the same night as
the ncaa basketball championship game. but only 40 people out of 1800 show
up for the headliners of a really cool festival on a saturday night that
simply wasn't laced with parties. three frats/sororities had "informals" so
i won't smash them so much, they were doing SOMETHING. but on this liberal
arts campus, where in a random survey pearl jam's vitalogy WAS voted #1
album of 1994 a mere four days after its release, only 40 people show up to
see 11 bands, at least two of which were simply great as live bands. ok,
they're no pearl jam (i guess, i haven't seen pearl jam live) but they were
still great live.
why? why didn't people show up? i tried to have a discussion with a
few guys at lunch, who had largely seen the show, and the dialogue went sort
of like this ::
"why didn't people go?" "they didn't want to."
"well, why didn't they want to?" "they don't HAVE to want to!"
"these bands are just as good as the ones they listen to, yet they won't
even give them a chance." "that's opinion." (no, it isn't, at least five
of the bands were better than the stone temple pilots)
so why didn't people show up? well, at this juncture, i decided to
place random phone calls to people to ask them. here's what i wound up
with, calling people whose extensions ended in multiples of 25:
"hi! i'm running a survey. did you go to the 'far left fest'?"
call 1: she DID go. for a part of it, friends suggested a band.
call 2: answering machine.
call 3: answering machine.
call 4: answering machine. at this point i'm considering changing
my focus to: where the fuck are people
on wednesday nights when i want to do a
random survey?
now switching to random multiples of 47:
========================================
call 5: she did NOT attend. says she was out of town.
call 6: he did NOT attend. claims to have been at a track meet.
call 7: she DID attend, briefly, "because there was music out there."
now switching to random multiples of 80:
========================================
call 8: pat and dan were not in, answering machine.
call 9: she DID attend part of it, "to hear the bands play."
now switching to random multiples of 377:
=========================================
call 10: no answer.
at this point, having hit four answering machines, one no answer,
three people who went for part of the event, and two people who had somewhat
reasonable answers for why not, i realized this idea was doomed to failure.
anyway, back to the original part. no matter what, there were still
only 40 out of 1800 students by 9:30pm. why? this is why ::
on campuses, big and small, across the nation, a trend is forming.
this probably isn't much of a new trend, i assume it's been around for one
hell of a long time. this trend is the trend towards thinking like a
liberal and acting like a conservative. now, i don't mean liberal and
conservative in a political sense so much as a social sense. people are
listening to "alternative" music like nine inch nails that their parents
might not approve of, they might even go to a nine inch nails concert, but
do they like nine inch nails for the music, or because of some sort of
conditioning to do so, or both? i argue both.
why have bands like blues traveler and phish become viable? it's a
good question. they don't sound *popular*, now do they? no. that's
because the youth of america are doing something unique: embracing things
across the board for various reasons, such as nine inch nails, phish, and
nirvana. these various reasons are somewhat confusing; although it seems as
thought there is a certain amount of expression in what people listen to,
the fact is that a majority of people are largely driven by smaller peer
groups.
theoretical question: people like stone temple pilots, certain
distant suns are by far a better band, why didn't people go see certain
distant suns? fear of alienation? no. it's this simple: people are
completely unwilling to lunge out, take the first step. being on the fringe
and having listened to nirvana since the day bleach came out doesn't mean
jack shit if way back then you listened to bleach because and ONLY because
someone suggested it. let's face it: people who listen to certain bands DO
like those bands. but they'd also like a flurry of other bands they're
afraid to go out and listen to for some reason.
why is it i'm the only person from my home town with an urge overkill
album? why is it only three of us have pavement albums? at the same time,
probably 25% own at least one pearl jam or nirvana album. and, yes, there's
a sense of personal feeling in this, but still: urge overkill is a BETTER
band than pearl jam. so why are people listening to pearl jam? well, we
can't blame it on trendiness in all cases. we can't blame it on ignorance,
they've HEARD of urge overkill now. we can blame it on being
chicken-shitted.
how many people out there will actually buy an album with no tangible
idea what they've gotten themselves into? i do it all the time. one day i
bought two albums: tripmaster monkey and dead can dance. now if that isn't
somewhat eclectic i don't know what is. but who else is willing to spend
money on something they don't already feel confident in? and we're not
going to count people who queued to buy vitalogy the day it came out. they
didn't give a fuck WHAT the album sounded like, now did they? they like it,
what difference does it make?
people have no balls. fact is, most of the people that read this
won't be able to personally relate. it DOES take a certain amount of balls
to be in the midst of such an odd thing, even if you were drawn in by some
friends of yours. t-files aren't like bands. they're changing, different.
how many people that YOU know will say "yes, i love HoE!!!" if they don't
know jack shit about it? people claim to love the dead kennedys even though
they only know that "one cambodia song"; but will people claim to love pEz
because of "those damn mentos commercials"? well, wait, they would, BECAUSE
it's mentos. but any OTHER pEz? no way in hell.
it's not really a disease that can be cured. in fact, i'm a bit
amazed at the diversity of the populace now within the spectre of popular
music. any society which will put pantera, tupac shakur, soundgarden,
r.e.m., bruce springsteen, pink floyd, boys ii men, live, and countless
others at #1 on the billboard charts is sure as fucking hell diverse.
and they clearly aren't all sheep. but the fact is, there's nothing wrong
with jumping into a herd, so long as a) you don't blindly follow it along
and b) you're willing to take charge yourself if need be.
people who wear t-shirts with a copy of kurt cobain's death
certificate on it are simply sick. those people are blatant exceptions.
people who say "kmfdm? they're cool, d00d!!" and mean it, they're the
morons. but most people out there aren't quite like that. they're a step
above; still a growing problem in itself but hopefully a more correctable
trend. lend a cd to a friend, get them acquainted to a band they may not be
acquainted to. if they hate it, then, well, they're standing up and making
an opinion like they should.
and as a matter of record: the only cd i have ever purchased without
the direct intent of selling it again at a later date that i wound up
selling again at a later date was: hotel california by the eagles. every
other cd i've sold was a gift or a prize. i pride myself in being diverse
in tastes and buying truly random things at times (like mazzy star and
shellac, for example) but it seems like i always have the knack for what i
want to listen to. and that copy of pearl jam's vs. i gave away, that was a
gift too.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: the adventures of billy; the retarded dish boy ::
:: part one; billy breaks a dish ::
small droplets of water bounced off the cheese-stained plate and
splashed billy in the face. he loved when that happened. billy loved the
more simple things in life.
after all, billy was retarded. not that retards aren't people, too,
but let's say that they're much more easy to entertain than normal folk.
billy cracked a little smile and put the dish back on the flat rack.
it was a slow day, he had hardly washed any dishes at all, and it was
already lunch time. he hadn't sorted _any_ silverware, and that was rare,
even for a slow day.
billy reached behind him and grabbed his soda from the metal shelves
that occupied the other half of the dish room. the ice was just beginning
to melt - he could taste it. watered down soda was a pet peeve of his. it
just tasted horrible. he took one small sip and then reached behind him to
place the soda on the metal shelves, right where it was before. with his
other hand, he grabbed another plate from the bus pan. it was one of those
country dinner plates. heavier than the rest of them. heavier than he
thought or expected.
in slow motion, like they always describe it on those tabloid tv
shows, billy could feel the dish slip from his greasy fingertips. he was no
longer concentrating on putting his soda back on the shelves behind him, now
he was reaching for the plate with both hands, hoping to reach it before it
hit the floor.
"billy, you idiot! it's true, what they say about you. you're a
moron. nice going, billy!" he thought to himself. he could hear his former
school mates taunting him.
"billy is stupid. billy is stupid." they chanted repeatedly.
the dish hit the floor, and shrapnel flew every which way. billy's
eyes shot wide open right along with his mouth. it seemed like everyone in
the restaurant suddenly became quiet.
"oh no." he thought, "this will be the end of me."
billy had been working at the small restaurant every day for a little
over five years now, and he had never broken a single thing.
billy was scared. very scared. he loved this job. he didn't want
to leave. where would he go? nobody would hire someone like billy. nobody
except mcdonalds, and he'd rather die than work there. quickly, billy got
down on his hands and knees, picking up the little pieces of china, trying
to get it up before anyone ran into the dish room to see what happened.
all kinds of crazy thoughts shot through billy's head. what if this
lead to some bizarre string of bad luck? what if they found out about when
he peed in the sink because he couldn't make it to the bathroom? or what if
they found out about the time he ate all the red crayons that they pass out
with kids menus because someone had told him they tasted like m&ms?
billy just wanted to run out the fire exit and never return. he
would rather become a vagrant than deal with being fired from the only job
the he ever loved. he could hear footsteps rushing towards the dish room.
billy began to panic and tried to pick up the pieces faster. he
started to get a little too nervous, and started dropping pieces left and
right.
"billy; what happened?"
his life was over. it was craig, the supervisor.
"eye bruke da plaite. eet wus en accedant, eye ... " he was cut off
by craig.
"are you ok?" he asked.
"eye tink su." billy said. he could feel himself getting flustered.
he was probably bright red and sweating like roger ebert.
"ok, well, just throw the pieces in that little white bucket in there
and we'll get another one from the commissary." craig said. then he walked
back into the dining room.
billy was safe after all. he had done all that worrying and
panicking for nothing. he stood up, brushed off his hands, and took another
sip of his soda. it was even more watered down than before. it sure was
hot in that little dish room. then billy smiled, picked up another country
dinner plate, and tossed it to the ground.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: be a geek, there is no hope ::
:: my sarcasm unbound ::
:: submitted by; k-raddy-rad g-funkmastah moggiemog mogel ::
again and again you realize time after time that you are not cool,
and you never will be. this is the important realization that you will
ever make in your life, for it can foretell your fate. this is the
painfully necessary realization that you are not me, and you never will be.
for some of you this whole idea might be a tough one to swallow, but
let me assure you that this will never be. you are destined to rot away in
a puddle of patheticness. you are a worthless slop infested piece of
garbage that doesn't even deserve to read the words that i type, thus even
reading this puts you at a new low.
fortunately, i have this bizarre bone in my body that actually gives
a shit about what happens to a useless moron like yourself. call it my
tragic flaw. i have decided to take it upon myself to explain to you this
simple method of making the best out of your destined-for-doom life. by
even expending this effort i prove my eliteness.
okay, here's the main idea of this stupid t-file. i need to spell it
out for you, despite it's redundance, because you are all morons and none of
you get any sort of jokes. you all can't see the slightest bit of sarcasm
or irony unless it's practically slamming you in the face. there's actually
some people that think saturday night live is better now than it ever has
been before.
main idea: you are a pathetic loser. you will never be mogel.
instead of doing the logical thing and simply committing suicide, i propose
another alternative to life. annoy the living fuck out of the world. the
following are four simple interactive methods that will not only confirm
the fact that you are a geek to all that are around you, but they will help
you succeed in the ultimate purpose of all life - to make mogel look better.
method #1 - literal humor
=========================
everyone's favorite geek is the 'wise-crack' guy. they epitome not
only bad humor, but are just flat-out dorks. thus, i am now giving my
approval to go out into the world and practice this annoying habit
eternally.
a literal joke. as ignorance _is_ bliss, and i find a certain beautiful
purity in you not knowing if you actually _don't_ know, but i feel it's my
duty to both warn you and encourage you to the theory behind the practice.
a literal joke is a type of joke where someone says a seemly normal
sentence, and another 'joker' (you!) picks out some keyword and makes a joke
of it by taking the word by it's literal meaning, no matter how blatant the
figurative meaning is.
and yes, there's just something disturbing about it all, like the feeling
you get when you've swallowed one too many vivarin but feel perfectly fine.
you know something scary is about to happen. the analysis of what is
disturbing about this humor is what fascinates me the most. the idea will
blow your friends mind. the _best_ way to practice this humor is to begin
programming yourself to give these 'literal' responses to the mere mention
of the word or expression. people, in their minds, will be shocked by the
fact that a human being with a mind and so much mental potential has
actually wasted their time programming these stupid jokes into their brain.
this is the kind of deep rooted annoyance that will make me proud.
examples ::
===========
"i don't drink."
"alcohol or not at all?"
"that joke was really corny."
"guh. why don't you put butter on it?"
method #2 - the in-the-closet singer
====================================
yet another 'keyword or expression' practice for conversation that
not only annoys people, but actually can sterilize a conversation if done
the correct way.
contrary to popular belief this method requires absolutely no sort of
singing or vocal talent. you can have the most fucked up crackly voice in
the world and it won't matter a hill of beans, actually, it will probably be
better the worse your voice is. dig it! the whole method resides in you
harping in one a word or expression that goes along with words that you have
heard in a song. it doesn't have to be a song you like at all. anything.
of course this method does have the one fault that you will have to actually
spend your time listening to music and experiencing something human instead
of programming yourself with bad jokes from method #1.
just nab the expression and go ballistic. interrupt people in the
middle of their sentences. can't you imagine the look of annoyance of their
faces when they scream "HELP!" and you go into 27 chorus' of the beatle's
'help!'? go for the gusto. after all, who gives a fuck anyway?! it's not
like you're ever going to be like mogel or anything.
example ::
==========
them: "if you don't stop singing, i'm going to light you on fire."
you: "come on baby light my fire..."
them: "stop!"
you: "...in the naaaame of looove. before you break my heart..."
them: "STOP!"
you: "hammer time!"
method #3 - the retarded guy
============================
be stupid. stupid people that don't understand the simplest wit and
concepts in a conversation and need to have _everything_ explained to them
are whole new realms of annoying.
_warning_! i don't mean act like you are in special ed or anything.
if you do that then you'll be put with _real_ special ed or retarded people,
which would become the greatest torture for you to ever experience in your
life. this is because real retards were born with the _true_ special
ability to annoy the shit out of everyone. they didn't need to read this
text file and learn these methods - from the day they learned to piss on
their mothers they knew what to do. this is the one thing you want to
avoid. your methods will not work on them, them will rip you to shreds.
thus using the retarded guy method you must be sure not to over play it.
method #4 - the obsessive eccentric crazy guy
=============================================
this method requires the most creativity. this might scare some of
you at first, but once you get the hang of it you'll be a groovin' moronic
cat.
basically the gist behind this one is that that you act like a major
weirdo and scare away people. either that or you'll attract other weirdos,
which then you can pounce on and ultimately drive them away too, then
drawing more and the cycle continues.
how do you do it? be random. be wacky. be funny, but make sure
that you are only funny in your mind and no one else will actually laugh.
say things that no one will understand or have a clue about. when people
are being detailed, make abstractions. when people are discussing the
meaning of life, talk about a cheeseburger.
conclusion ::
=============
remember above all that the point here is to have a better life.
there is no hope whatsoever that you will be me. you might as well stop the
futile quest and do something that will make your anti-mark in the world.
do something worthless. after all, the world doesn't deserve your
brilliance anyway.
============================================================================
============================================================================
:: the sad sad story of dead cheese ::
:: curteousy of; aardvark ::
:: commentary by; black francis ::
in case you can't tell, this is the user information for dead cheese
taken from a local chat board a few days ago. this is where he's been, and
this is why he doesn't write for us all that much.
i swear i did not make this up.
[-----]
*--* 05-10-95 - 00:43:21 *--*
user-id ..................... dead cheese
sex ......................... male
message ..................... i'm not wearing any pants! tee hee.
account created.............. 07/22/94
last time on................. 05/10/95 00:00am
class ....................... 90day
time on today (hh:mm) ... 14:35
nickname .................... assmunch supreme
time on this call (hh:mm) ... 0:41
location .................... majormud
baud rate ................... 14400
line number ................. 2
flags ....................... b (b=busy, c=chat, s=sysop, i=invisible)
[-----]
fourteen hours and thiry-five minutes?! i don't do _anything_ for
that long, including sleep.
someone get this boy some psychiatric help. soon.
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:: primates in the "scene" ::
:: submitted by; stinky ::
it's been a while since i've written something for either pez or pal,
so, i figured, why the hell not? i've got something important i want to
talk about, and i want all of you to hear it. so, here goes;
you know, everybody's always complaining about racism in the "scene",
or homophobia in the "scene", but never have i ever seen anyone complaining
about primatephobia in the "scene". not once. i think this is an extremely
important issue, and should be straightened out immediately.
every single time i log on to a local board, or pop in #ansi, all i
see is;
"shut up you stupid fag lemur!", or;
"(so-and-so) is a carpucian! blacklist this primate!" and i'm really
getting sick and tired of it.
i'm not saying this only as a primate, but i'm saying this as an
active participant in the "scene". there's no need for this. just because
someone doesn't walk upright doesn't mean you're any better than them.
hey. we may swing from trees on our tails. we may cake our fingers
in our own fecal matter and then eat it. we may even have bright red asses,
but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be treated just like everyone else.
i bet you didn't know that somms, from acid productions, is a
chimpanzee. right along with erik bloodaxe. see? without primates, where
would we be?
so, the next time you call someone a "stupid madril", think about
what you're really saying about _yourself_.
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:: basset brown; the new hound's try and find ::
:: whistler ::
words that remind us of whistler are hidden in the block below. some
words are hidden backward or diagonally. see if you can find :: artist,
etching, whistler, mother, paint, drawing, watercolor, paris, london, japan,
butterfly, pose, portrait, art, colors, exhibit, museum.
b t i a r t r o p a u m f r t
u j a p a n c i a r t u e v w
t j p a i n t o g s u s t d h
t t i b i h x e l k i e c r i
e l z j s i r a p o v u h a s
r l o n d o n q a p r m i w t
f r c d q a r t i s t s n i l
l r e h t o m e s o p s g n e
y t e r o l o c r e t a w g r
see? pEz monthly can be entertaining.
fun for the whole damn family.
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:: in danger ::
:: by; dr. richard d. whiteford ::
common name :: salt marsh fleabane
scientific name :: pluchea odorata
a member of the sunflower family, this plant grows to three feet and
has short-stalked leaves that are lance-shaped and sometimes toothed, and
firm or fleshy.
it's disc-shaped flowers are pink-lavender and about a fifth of an
inch wide. they bloom from july to october. the plant gives off the
fragrance of camphor. it lives in saline-to-brackish marshes and adds a
flash of pink to marsh grasses in the fall.
habitat loss and its use in ornamented dried-flower arrangements have
placed this on the endangered list.
if you see salt marsh fleabane, please do not disturb it, and try to
preserve its habitat.
.. and pEz monthly is educational, too!
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:: i superabound ::
back by popular demand!
well, not really.
here are some more things that have been on my mind, but i really
don't feel like writing about in full.
sit back, grab a cold refreshing beverage, and enjoy!
1) frosted flakes are the food of the gods.
2) tom pettys nose is the single-most fucked up thing i've seen in my
entire life. well, the single-most fucked up nose i've ever seen, at least.
3) people should get beat up for stateing their beliefs.
4) in the new mighty morphin power rangers movie, the pink ranger
loses her beautiful form-fitting spandex for some heavy bulkier armor.
5) i can only think of four other things to bitch about.
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:: the gothic rant ::
now, _here_ is a real rant - in true t-file fashion.
ahem. let's begin;
you people have pushed me entirely too far with your "gothic"
crap!
"i'm a vampire! blood tastes good! yum yum!"
"i am gothic and original! get hip to my anarchy!"
just shut up because you are not a gothic and you are certainly not
a vampire! you are accomplishing nothing but _pissing me off_! take your
painted black fingernails and shove them up your tight white ass, you
blantantly idiotic evil spawn of an art fag.
you're a vampire? when did you realize this? were you a vampire
_child_ as well, because, i don't think you can "suddenly" become a vampire.
"gee. the sun seems to bother me much more than it ever did."
i'm sure if you were a vampire child, your parents would have sent
your pathetic ass to a mental institution as quickly as possible.
at least claim to be something original. like a werewolf, or
frankenstein or something.
yeah, you're really different. just like everyone else. you also
have a big fucking neon sign right over the top of your head that says,
"look at me! i'm a winner! i want your attention! i will not be ignored,
damnit! if this means piercing my whole fucking head to get attention - i
will do so. my rich parents don't love me and pay no attention to me."
stay out of my face! go home and write some more angst poetry you
trent reznor wanna-be piece of shit. bauhaus can bite me, trent reznor can
suck me, and joy division can just flat-out die (oops! too late!).
no, wait. i don't want trent reznor to suck me. after all, he is
bi-sexual now, correct? just like everyone else? he may do just that.
there's a trend you won't be able to forget as easily as
bell-bottoms.
"hey, jim, remember when you were getting guys up the ass?"
"yeah. that was just a phase i was going through."
go away gothic scum! you are the epitome of stupidity and a disgrace
to the human race. wow! i'm a poet and didn't know it. maybe i should
scamper off and write some suicidual angst poetry now. good idea! how
pathetic and asinine. you make me want to spit on you, you retched piece of
shit.
ok. you be gothic, and i'll be ice age. now, that's original! i'll
walk around in a wooly mammoth fur, beating people senseless with my club
and dragging them back to my house for the sake of being different because
i'm a _real_ winner!
"oonga boonga!"
"whoah! look at the caveman! he's a real rebel!"
shut up!
die!
may your rubber pants melt in the hot summer sun and cling to your
legs for enternity, you pety swine!
may you get caught in the rain and have all your black hair dye run
into your eyes causing you to lose your vision so you don't see the fury of
my knuckles as i pummel you.
may all your body piercings rust, you silly walking billboards for
mental insanity! you annoy me! you stoop to the level of cattle and pay
sixty dollars or more to have someone mutilate you by jabbing some metal
rod or whatever through your face or your stomach or your genitals and
calling it hip and fashionable. the only thing that seperates you from
cattle is that cattle get mutilated for free! jealous? i bet you are, you
human oddity!
here's an idea - look up the word "exploitation" in the dictionary.
now get away from me, you worthless slimey little worm.
i feel much better.
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:: frannie's poetry corner! ::
:: submitted by; thalassocracy ::
:: fun-ee compilation material by; black francis ::
well, originally i meant to update you all on my quest to get into
a lit. group, but, since my internet connection went, er, "down", i haven't
been able to pass my work out to all the big lit. guys.
so, while i'm waiting to get another decent internet account, i'm
going to entertain you with some poetry thalassocracy dug up for me from a
local chat board.
i swear neither i or thalassocracy made this stuff up. we _couldn't_
make this stuff up.
i even called this board and checked out the writers forum for
myself, and, unfortunately, it's all 100% true. here are some of the
"better" ones.
[-----]
date: thursday, february 16, 1995 8:39am
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: a season in the pool
a season in the pool, it's a good time.
it is very hard, but it has many rewards.
swimming is a sport that you race yourself
over and over until you win.
i don't think you ever win, you just say _damm_:
i could of gone a little faster.
or maybe you will go faster the next race.
maybe that is why i am swimming because i have
never beat myself and said i won.
sam griga
2-3-95
[-----]
date: thursday, february 16, 1995 8:46am
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: the gridiron
the gridiron it's such a great place to show as a person.
i have never seen a sport with so much fear in it.
the players are always saying:
next time i'm going to rip your head off,
they never do.
i guess that's why i always go back the next play to see
if they will rip my head off.
they lied to me.
sam griga
2-3-95
[-----]
date: thursday, february 16, 1995 7:24pm
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: the bomb
the bomb thhe bomb it is very scary yes it is.
don't know when its coming only know where it has been.
i wish i knew more about this bomb.
i guess all that we can do is sit and wait.
everyone knows how bad this bomb will be.
but i guess we will have to wait and see.
sam griga
2-16-95
[-----]
date: sunday, february 19, 1995 7:17pm
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: the bubbly one
the bubbly one, the bubbly one.
you know who i am talking about.
the one we call bubbles.
i have never seen her.
but i am sure she is beautiful.
at least andrew told me that she was.
the one who plays farwest trivia all day.
and never comes out to talk to me.
thats all i can say because that is all
i know about her.
andrew you are a lucky man.
sam griga
2-19-95
[-----]
date: friday, march 3, 1995 5:24pm
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: sadness
sadness is not a good feeling.
no life should have too much sadness.
even though the world is full of it.
your life doesn't have to be.
look to something good and your sadness
will go away.
never get that sad.
sam griga
3-2-95
[-----]
date: tuesday, march 21, 1995 9:47pm
from: gumby
to: ** all **
re: night
night is a great time of the day.
it's when all the wierdos come out.
it's a time to be free.
the night has a special power over me.
everyone has a little warewolf in them.
if you don't your not living.
make sure you find your warewolf.
be a different person at night.
because that is what it was for.
sam griga
3-21-95
[-----]
... and finally, my poem (inspired by gumby, of course) ...
date: wednesday, may 10, 1995 1:06am
from: black francis
to: all
re: i love gumby
gumby gumby gumby
you are such a pathetic dope
die really soon please
you are breathing my air and i don't like it
you diseased infested cock
die die die
[-----]
from what i have heard, gumby had himself a "poetry reading" at some
secret location or something recently. supposedly, if the rumors are true,
it was an invite-only show and had sold out shortly after tickets were made
available.
imagine that.
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:: buh-bye now ::
woo hoo! what a big, huge, monsterous, bohemith issue that was, eh?
i bet it took you a good week to read it, you illiterate bastard.
anyhow, taking into mind that you can't count, our next action-packed
issue will be numbero twenty-five! yowza! if we had been monthly all this
time, that would be our second year anniversary, but, we aren't and it's
not. so there.
well, regardless, i'm excited. it'll be an extra super great issue
packed full of tasty nuggets, so, i hope to see you there.
well, figuratively speaking. i can't really _see_ you there, but,
i'm sure even an idiot like yourself knows what i'm talking about.
hasta la whatever.
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)_) pEZ iZ iN dA hOUSE! wERD 'eM uP! (_(
((______/ ..\ pHOR tHE lATEST pHAT-aZZ pEZ pHILEZ, kALL /.. \______))
| /--( gOAT bLOWERZ aNONYMOUZ @ (215)750-0392 )--\ |
|||---||| "aDMITTING yOU hAVE a pROBLEM iS tHE fIRST |||---|||
M M M M sTEP tO rECOVERY." M M M M
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