textfiles/magazines/ATI/ati157.txt

"One robin don't mean spring"        
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157


if it moves you, copy it and pass it along so that
people everywhere will understand what is really 
happening in Mexico.
This is NOT a "family feud" - 
this is strategic genocide of the Maya people!

MAYA DEATH IN CHIAPAS
   by Jeeni Criscenzo
She prayed with the other women in the church,
in this makeshift place that is not home,
this place that offers nothing except a respite from terror,
from the thugs who have burned and raped and murdered
the thugs who waited and watched while the coffee plants grew,
watched the Maya farmers tend their delicate plants,
watched the coffee prices rise,
watched her belly grow round with child while she worked in the field.
She prayed with the barefoot others and children,
her man missing, like many others, held at gunpoint 
to harvest his crop for thieves,
for the PRI-istas who loaded trucks with their plundered harvest,
the PRI-istas who have pillaged their future,
stolen the fruits of months of toil,
stolen their only hope for survival in the coming year,
stolen their strength to resist enslavement.
She prayed with the shivering refugees,
beseeching her ancestors and saints with prayer,
to protect those hiding in the forest who have taken up their cause,
to defeat a government who strategically arms their enemies,
those pariah who call no one mother and father,
those wild ones who have given their souls to the PRI,
forsaken their heritage for the awe a weapon wields,
forsaken their ancestors for the bandit's life,
forsaken their community for the promises of thieves.
She prayed with her fellow Maya near Acteal, Chiapas,
three days before the celebration of Christmas,
while warm, well-fed children in far away places prayed for toys,
she turned to the deadly "hck" of fifty government issue AK-47s
aimed at a church full of unarmed people,
she turned from the hail of machine gun fire
set on a community of helpless victims,
she ran for the cover of bushes by the river,
ran from a barrage of bullets named "politics" and "greed",
ran for the futile chance her unborn child would survive.
But she could not run faster than their bullets.
She laid on the ground with the other bodies.
Her blood-soaked huipil could not conceal
that her attacker was not satisfied to gun her down 
with forty-four other innocents.
Her eyes wide with death watched the vermin as he thrust his machete
into her womb.
The last thought to move through her mind, a question:
"What threat was this infant to your PRI? 
Jacinto Arias Cruz?" "What threat was this infant to your PRI? 
Licenciado Julio Cesar Ruiz Ferro?"
"What threat was this infant to your PRI? 
President Zedillo?"
      Copyright 1998 Jeeni Criscenzo. 
   Permission is given to reprint and pass along 
 this poem in any media with this copyright notice 
	    and permission included. 
      Your feedback can be sent to: 
      jeeni@criscenzo.com         



GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETINGS,
AND WELCOME TO ATI. Apropriated Technology, Int.
I'm your tourguide, Prime Anarchist.
Your butt can be used as a flotation device.
This IS your hackerzine of hope.
Here's my column. And then you get the usual #'s
run, letters to the ediface, and weird news. Oh, and
of course the poetry dotting us all around and in
the end.

=COLUMN=
MUST I SAY THIS AGAIN: A Mini-column by Prime Anarchist
Job: Television Broadcast Assistant.
Camera operator needed for our morning and noon shows.
Job duties include, but not limited to studio camera
operation, teleprompter and floor directing. Knowlege
of television operations a plus but not required. This
is a part-time entry level position averaging 32 hours/
week.
Send resume to:
Resume? 
   Resume?!? Resume!!!
Be glad if I use my own pen, because I'm going to be using
YOUR PAPER. Settle for an application, thug. If I bring a
resume I'm coming after your job or that of YOUR boss.


'Tis The Season.
For retailers all over the US and especially the Northeast
and the left coast to be of one mindset.
One philosophy.
One accord.
  "If I don't average $1000 per hour gross, the next couple
weeks straight, I can't somehow justify my $6 per hour salary
plus little or no benefits. 
  Let the treadmill roll on.
  Here's to its oneday somehow falling off track.


OPEN LETTER TO BOB GUCCIONE, JR.
Does a frisbee *really* hold 3 pints?!?

---
ATI     a two-step away from freedom
---

When I bite into a York Peppermint Patty --
Nothing *$%&ing happens!!! It just taste
pretty good. Nothing more, nothing less.


Happy Chronika.
For people who aren't Christian OR Jewish or rooted in any other
particular spirituality, but they still feel the need to "keep
time," we have the all new:

    CHRONIKA -  that new festivus for the rest of yous...


poem for newt (1994)
    by Sebastian Mendler

you
you rode into the palace on the backs of alligators
and bade them feast on all within
now
you are in the palace
and
they are still there, waiting for you in the moat

you
you loosed a swarm of bees to torment your enemies
now
they have forgotten entirely how to make honey
now
they are still there, waiting on your windowsill

you
you do not know what you have done
you
you invoked the hurricane
	and imagined that you were still sheltered
you
you called up the earthquake
	and forgot how close to the fault line you stood
you
you unleashed the hydra
       and fed it on fat pigs (who to be sure were ripe for slaughter)
but now
       the hydra is still hungry
and you
you will run out of enemies before it is satisfied

and it will be satisfied

and it will feast
and it will feast on the snakes
and skunks
and weasels
that rode into the palace clinging to your ankles

and it will feast
and it will take particular pleasure in feasting
on 
newts


AN OPEN LETTER TO CHRIS-IN-THE-MORNING:
Hawking Mustang???


#
 #
  #
   #
  Here's a phew #'s 4 U
http://www.seattletimes.com/news/nation-world/html98/trib_120798.html
http://www.hackernews.com
http://www.joanneshenandoah.com
http://morehouse.org/hin
http://shell.rmii.com/~jkelin/earl.html
http://mycal.net/ifj
http://www.netgsi.com/~fcowboy
http://www.geocities.com/soho/gallery/5502
http://www.jaguarsystems.com/sondra
http://www.songpro.com
http://www.freespeech.org/kokopeli
http://www.olga.net
http://pw1.netcom.com/~kappel1
http://globalgoodies.com
http://www.dickshovel.com
http://www.wampumbelts.com
http://www.angelfire.com/wi/kokopeli/heymon.html
http://www.nonviolence.org/slipperyslope



LETTUCE AND TAMALES FROM THEMS 'AT READS US...
Hi
Thanks for sending your e-zine to me as I found it 
very intresting and liked it very much...
I'd like to talk with you more about zines in
general and such...
Brock R
Victoria BC Canada
Support Your Federal Public Serivce Unions (PSAC)
Http://www.psac.com  / Http://www.unde-uden.com
WRITE TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS TO PROTEST CONTRACTING OUT!


TO ATI FROM AARON:
funny thing -- I was there too
   crossed the line with a friend and two other people (from ohio) -- 
a blind man (at least 60, maybe 70) and his companion.
   I was in the bus that sang really well (about four busses 
down to the left, first wave of busses)  -- 
assuming you went across the line (which might not be true if 
you'd already gone).  We were always getting mikes stuck in
our windows from reporters =)
   Eleven students and one staff / admin person went from 
Notre Dame and Saint Mary's.  And we all walked across the line. 
I think it made a big (huge?) impression upon the people who went 
down from here.
   you might have seen me (and i might have seen you).  
I'm a little over 6 feet and tried to stick-out 
(mostly because i'd either lost my group or was
looking for people I'd know) and had my hair dyed 
slightly red.
Peace,
Aaron


<Readers Respond>
> Do you know if any of the people attending school of the americas
> are under 17 or 18 years old? This  notion came from a dream I had
> last nite, it's probably better to just recount from my journal.
   I have not seen any documentation about the ages of SOA students. 
However, I doubt that anybody less than 18 years old would be sent to
(or accepted by) the US for military training.
  Hope that helps.
  Margarita



Hi Marco,
Good to hear from you.  
I had a lot of friends that 
went to Fort Benning.
I almost feel like I was there.  
I'm glad you got to meet Martin Sheen.  
I was with him at a couple of demonstrations 
but never was introduced.  
I hear there is going to be a movie about the SOA.  
Maybe it really will get closed.  
There is no question but you won.  
The moral is never to do anything for the pay off.  
Motivation is all.  What do you think?
Be cool and stay in touch,
Scott


to: ati@etext.org
life is good,
sarah.
"In Germany they first came for the communists; 
I did not speak because I was not a communist.  
Then they came for the Jews; I did not speak because
I was not a Jew. Then they came to fetch the workers, 
members of trade unions; I did not speak because I was 
not a trade unionist.  Afterward, they came for the Catholics; 
I did not say anything because I was a Protestant.  
Eventually they came for me, 
and there was no one left to speak."
--Pastor Martin Niemoller, 
imprisoned by the Third Reich.
!!SPEAK FOR THE VOICELESS!!


Just dont give me no ca cay cay cayanneeee peppper. 
Dont like peppers on my fry bread either. 
My dog likes the music tho. 
she was howling like she does when
she hears the sirens.
yowllllllllllllllllllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!
sipish


NA MU MYO HO REN GE KYO
Dear Marco San
It is great to hear from you. Couple of students from 
Le Moyne College went to protest in front of the 
School of the Americas. One of the students
recognized the drum of the Myohoji monks 
and he was very excited when he
came back and told me the 
story about Georgia. 
Please keep up 
ur good work. 
Take Care.....
Peace Always
With Palms Together
Priyadarshi
		     
		     === response? ati@etext.org ===
		
Poet Tree 
  by Selfless Intelligence

The "truth" may "set" the 
CIA "free,"
But poetry
Is all that's left
Of the people you see.
By, and for and of.

The truth that an operative
Never could "see"
Remains and moves 
Inside the truly free.

We who can hear, feel and see
The Poet Tree


(PAWN) Prime Anarchist World Newz
New York, NY. MOHEGAN BUYS LIBERTY ISLAND.
A member of the Mohegan tribe has purchased Liberty Island,
home of the Statue of Liberty. 
   In a zoning board of appeals suit filed Nov. 18, in US
District Court, NYC. Timothy Studard of Stonington Conn., is
defending his right to own all the land around the Statue of
Liberty. 
   "If Pfizer can do it to a little old lady's house in Groton,"
said Studard, "Than I can do it to a bigger older lady." 
Studard, 35, wants to determine he really owns the land. He 
says he will seek some of the revenue from the Statue of Liberty
if he wins. He also promised that the Statue would remain as is
if the suit is successful.
   Aside from the Statue, Studard is planning a small casino, an
ice sculpture and a place where people can hunt deer and coyotes
year round.
     -30-

<INLINE>Navajo elder Pauline Whitesinger tells a special investigator
on religious intolerance from the United Nations, 
"all religions are sacred, including those of Native America," 
when he visited the Navajo Reservation last February where he slept
in Hogans by a woodstove for five nights and four days. Amor was his
last name and he was from France. We happen to have forgotten his
first name. Was it Luis? 
His job? The UN is preparing to indict US officials sometime in 
2001 for genocides perhaps worse than Pinochio and
hITTler combined. Of course George Busch and Oliver South have already
pardoned each other.


North Dakota (PAWN) - David, Age 9, won grand prize in the Phillup
Morris/Krafft BlueBox contest. 
   Using an ordinary box of macaroni and cheese he managed to blow
2600HZ into a telephone, thereby getting a phree phone call, just  
like CIA operatives around the world enjoy. Michael, age 5, came in
second with 2597HZ while Colleen, age 9, and Danielle, age 11, tied 
for third with tones of 2595, which still siezes a trunk-line; just
not right away.
   Jessica, age 5, and Liesl, age 11, both from Texas will receive
scholarships to the Jon Benet school of phone-sex operations. They
didn't blow very well, but they looked really cute the way mommy and
daddy dolled them up.



A Bad Example of Throwing Tones:
Playing "Welcome To The Jungle" over and over at
hurtful wattage in a US DOD sanctioned attempt to
drive Manuel Noriega so crazy he'll come out of
his Vatican hideout - 1989

Fine Example(s) of Throwing Tones:
13 Tibetan singing/talking bowls taking out air traffic
control.
"I love you."
"I forgive you."
"How do you like your coffee?"


Aargh!?! 
   Shelter Notes by this Marc Frucht guy.
What did I start??!?? 
2 Christmases ago I began shaving my head clean. I've gotten used
to it despite so missing the long-ass ponytail I used to sport 
before that. 
   A teenager here at the shelter I help run shaved his head because
he thought it looked "really dope," on me. Now he comes back from the 
Fox River Mall with "FuBu" carved into the back of his head. He's a 
little perplexed as to why I didn't immediately think that was the
way coolest thing I'd ever seen. 
   For those of you who have no idea what I'm referring to, FB is the
next Tommy Hilfiger. Pants, sweatshirts, underclothing, lunchboxes, 
sunglasses, maybe even a Hansens Toaster Strudel Endorsement. 
Ayeee!! 
Maybe next I'll tattoo "Pepsi" in blue on my left ass-cheek.
   "Been there; done that," you tell me? 
   Aargh.


9 out of 10 men using Propeesha had gruesome hair.
Women who are pregnant must NOT run their fingers
through their spouses'.

ATI. 
   Shifting 
      paradigms 
	 for 
	    11 
	      years.


As per usual, we end with poetry, because
In the end.
Alls we's left wiff is myth...

I was a WalMart CareBear Wannabe
    a poem by Lisa Martinovic

it was the grand opening
it was a big responsibility
and my temp agency chose me
for this mission

at seven AM
at the grand opening of the new WalMart SuperCenter 
I would don a CareBear costume
head out onto the floor
and spend 12 happy hours
meeting and greeting 
kids of all ages
I was flushed with excitement at the very thought
told all my friends
couldn't sleep for days

so imagine my disappointment
when I got the call 
seems CareBear corporate decided to send
one of their own people to fill the estimable shoes
of this lovable creature that means so much to so many

boy did they miss out!

If I was their CareBear
I'd bring a whole new dimension to that role
I'd comport myself with jovial avuncularity
hopping, skipping and jumping down aisle after aisle
of fine quality products 
that wouldn't dream of putting any cry-baby 
local merchants out of business
I'd direct bargain-crazed shoppers to big BIG savings on 
merchandise crafted with pride in Third World countries
by people enjoying optimal working conditions
and I'd make it my mission in life to lead new WalMart Associates
to the very back of the store
through two warehouses
and into the locked storm cellar
in case any WalMart customer ever
asked where they could recycle their five hundred thousand 
blue plastic sacks

and when I was through making points with WalMart management
I'd romp gaily with other gargantuan corporate mascots
perhaps perambulate with Mr. Peanut
in the Garden Poisoning section
maybe make merry with a massive M&M
in the Disguise the Smell of Women's Genitalia aisle

meanwhile, my friends would arrive en masse
cameras at the ready
eager to record this historic event
sure to inspire giggles for generations to come

but I'd leave my CareBear head on
and they couldn't tell me from a six foot Vlasic pickle
I'd later develop an extreme allergic reaction
to the plastic lining of that CareBear head
I'd sue WalMart for animal rights violations
and worker's compensation
a messy public trial would ensue
I'd settle out of court and be set for days
But they don't know that yet, so first 
I'd scamper back to the toy department
for an hour or two of jostling crabby youngsters on my knee
Before long the media-savvy tots
conveniently misconstruing my innocent gestures
would band together in a class action lawsuit
claiming sexual molestation
by a deranged CareBear!
stunned by the allegations
I'd slip into the bathroom 
inches ahead of the obligatory National Enquirer onslaught and 
ditch the costume in a diaper changing station
only to emerge as just another satisfied WalMart consumer
forever pushing that shopping cart through the
Buy More Save More-One Size Fits All-Artificially 
Flavored and Sweetened
aisle of life


     If you enjoyed your ride, 
     please tell friends, ok?
 === response? ati@etext.org ===