159 lines
9.5 KiB
Plaintext
159 lines
9.5 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #511
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "My Beef with Phil Collins"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Ashtray Heart
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 3/16/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Well, after an exhaustive manhunt lasting several months and
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entailing a squadron of several hundred highly trained dogs, I have been
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enticed out of hiding once more. Where have I been? Mostly I've been
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writing poetry, from which I will spare you because, well, isn't there
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enough pain in this world already? I've been lured out of my ineffective
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retirement by two factors:
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1. The offer, by an anonymous patron of the arts, of an unlimited
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quantity of S&M soft porn.
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2. The opportunity to participate in and document for posterity the
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ritual murder of Phil Collins.
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After running this latter opportunity by our hot 'n juicy lawyers,
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it was downgraded to the opportunity for a feral wrestling match with Phil
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Collins. For those of you who have missed out on this groundbreaking
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piece of news (an exclusive, BTW, to whichever the hell zine I'm writing
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this for), here are some of the interesting details on the match:
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* My battle royal with Phil Collins will be a shaving match.
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Originally Collins had proposed a head-shaving match, but after
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I was astute enough to point out, through my lawyers, of course,
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that Collins was bald as a fucking cueball (mind you, I don't
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exactly have a world-beating hairline myself, but it's miles
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ahead of that jive honky Collins'), the match was amended to a
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crotch shaving match. The winner will get to shave the loser's
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crotch. The razor to be used for this has yet to be determined;
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we're still interviewing potential corporate sponsors.
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Personally, though, I hope whatever we choose is really fucking
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painful. I'm rooting for a straight razor, myself. We have
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determined a sponsor for aftershave, and I'm proud to announce
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that after our match Phil Collins is going to be an Aqua Velva
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man... down THERE.
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* We have yet to find a venue for the match, due to some pesky laws
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about public nudity. We're considering filing papers for this
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event as an "artistic event", which might not only allow the
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nudity required but could possibly get us some arts grant funding.
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I'm optimistic that we can make this happen, even if we have to
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go all the way to fucking Berkeley.
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* The match WILL be a weapons match. I had originally proposed a
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livestock match wherein the ring would be peppered with farm
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animals which could be used in any offensive way possible, but
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humane society protests coupled with the possibility of some of
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the fans going hog-wild a little too literally and attempting to
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sodomize the animals have put this out of the question, as I'm
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told you can't get away with fucking barnyard animals even if it
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IS the most significant artistic event of the century. We are
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currently working out a compromise. Either the weapons will
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consist of an army of robot chickens of my own design, or a huge
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barrel filled with anything available from the Archie McPhee
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catalog. As always, we will keep you posted.
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* Recommendations for referee will be gladly accepted. Collins of
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course wants that fucking wanker Tony Banks to referee, but
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there's no way in hell I'm going to let that happen, even if I
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have to have him arrested on false pretenses of child pornography
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to keep him from getting to ringside. It probably won't come to
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that, though. I've submitted a memo to Ken Starr obliquely
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hinting that Tony Banks and Bill Clinton might once have slept in
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the same bed. You can expect every overdue library book Banks
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has had out to be leaked to the media by next Thursday.
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Collins, I just want to let you know, even if you get Banks to ref,
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you're going down. You may have had arms of steel once upon a time from
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thrashing the shit out of those drums, but you've gone soft. You've been
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pussyfooting around with those wimpy drum machines too long. You don't
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know me. You don't know how hard I'm working to make this happen,
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Collins. You get there in the ring with me, you're going to see all of
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your life flash before your eyes. I'll get you stuttering so bad that the
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next time you try and sing "Sussudio", it'll take you 5,473 repetitions
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of the first syllable before you finally get that accursed spell out. Oh,
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yes. Don't think I'm not on to you and the source of your continued
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power. Don't think I don't know about your dabblings with black magic.
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I've got my own voodoo sorcerer, believe you me, and I'm getting trained
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by nothing but the best.
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Let me tell you about my training room, Collins. I've got an 8X8
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room set up, and the decor is filled with nothing but pictures of your
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face, from your noxious fucking album covers. I've got a stereo in there
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that plays your hits 24 hours a day, from "In the Air Tonight" to that
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wretched piece of shit cover of "True Colors". Collins, your music has
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taught me the true meaning of pain, and when we get in the ring I'll teach
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you every bit of what I've learned. I'm going to do to you what I did to
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"Loco in Acapulco", Collins.
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And then you know what? I'm going to shave you. I'm going to make
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your crotch as soft and smooth as your wife's pussy. Before a crowd of
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thousands out there in the arena, I'm going to take away the last pretense
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to manhood you have. I know you've been growin' it, too. How long's it
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been since you shaved down there? Two years? Five? Twenty? Never?
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Well, you just keep growin' that public hair, Collins. I want your bush
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nice and full for me.
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* * *
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Phil, I want to tell you. After your work with Genesis, after your
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horrible solo career, after having to put up with your wretched occult
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presence all through the '80s, I thought I knew the meaning of hate. I
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hated you more than I'd ever hated anyone in my life. But Phil, that was
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nothing next to what I feel for you now. Phil Collins, I'm here to tell
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you, now it's personal.
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You can't possibly guess how grueling this training regimen has
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been for me. I've studied every inch, every side of your face from more
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angles than I thought were possible. I've heard your sniveling voice in
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every permutation known, from your cover of "Tomorrow Never Knows" through
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"We Can't Dance". It's hurt. Oh, has it hurt. But it hasn't been for
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nothing. I know where your every weak spot is, Phil. I know exactly the
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nerves to strike on your face to freeze you up in spastic fits. I know
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exactly what to say to make you weak. I know exactly who to hurt to get
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to you, Phil, and I'm going to do it. It's not enough to just shave your
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crotch anymore, Phil. I'm going to make your life more miserable than
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I've made mine. The weeks before this match will be just as much torture
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for you as they are for me. I realize this will make you lean and hungry,
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and this will make my match harder, but I'm still confident that I'm the
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better man than you. Knowing you've given it your all for this match
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instead of sitting back getting fat off your royalty checks will just make
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my final victory all the sweeter for me.
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You know what did it for me? You know what was the straw that
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broke the camel's back? It was the porn, Phil. Remember? The unlimited
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quantities of S&M softporn from your own collection that you set me up
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with? I've been seeing YOUR FACE on them, Phil. YOUR FACE on every one
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of those goddamned models. YOUR FACE on those perfect sets of tits, on
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every one of those bound and helpless women. YOUR FACE squirming
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fetchingly in an infinite number of variations. Oh, you'll squirm, Phil.
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You'll squirm. But it won't be all nicey-nice SOFT-PORN squirming.
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There'll be nothing sexy about the way your eyes beg for mercy THEN. Oh,
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no. It'll be pure pain, Phil. Pain and blood. You like to play around
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with pain, but you're about to get yourself a heaping helping of the real
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thing.
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I bet you're sweating right now, because already the world knows
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one of your little secrets. The whole world knows exactly what you like
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in the bedroom. But that's not really why you're sweating, is it? You
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don't even really mind that they know about it that much. You must have
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figured I'd spill the beans on that eventually. No, what you're sweating
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about is that you know it's only the beginning. And you're wondering how
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much of it I know. Well, trust me on this one, Phil. If you've done it,
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I know about it. I know it all. And I've dedicated the rest of my career
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to your downfall. It'll be the thrill of my life to watch you go down, to
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take that rusty old razor to your crotch, Phil. Knowing that I'm going to
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do that to you will make it all worthwhile.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #511 - WRITTEN BY: ASHTRAY HEART - 3/16/99 ]
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