692 lines
36 KiB
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692 lines
36 KiB
Plaintext
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----------------------------------|__|-------------------------(gh/cia)---
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Jonas E'Zine -- Volume 2, Number 1 -- Released April 2, 1996
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Jonas is produced semi-regularly by Edicius (Tom Sullivan). Jonas
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and the material therein are property of Edicius and Jonas Print Matter
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Incorporated. Jonas may be freely distributed as long as this notice
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remains in place, and there is no fee charged for its retrieval.
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You can all just kiss off into the air
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Behind my back I can see them stare
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They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind
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They'll hurt me bad they do it all the time
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Violent Femmes / "Kiss Off"
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Jonas E'Zine Volume 2, Issue 2 May 3, 1996
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Contents:
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(1) - Edicius' Editorial
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(2) - Tragic Death Calls For New Regulations (Essay) / by Edicius
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(3) - Supernatural Powers (Story) / By Edicius
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(4) - Reviews: Edicius' Opinions on EVERYTHING!
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(5) - News Snippets
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In memory - Mystery Science Theater 3000
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(1) - Edicius' Editorial
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You thought Jonas was gone, didn't you? Ha ha! I tricked you! It was an
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April Fools Day joke all along! Didn't you know? Silly.
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No, not really.
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If you are just tuning in, last issue I announced that Jonas and Slinky
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e'zines were merging together to form Legacy e'zine. Well, due to our
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unfortunate timing, things came up between the four editors, and together
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we didn't really have the time/energy/means to start a new e'zine. So,
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we've gone back to our respective 'zines (with Mindcrime, who was the only
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one who didn't have a 'zine of his own beforehand, and had the time to
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start a new one, starting a new 'zine.)
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Phew. So here it is, your beloved Jonas.
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As far as the newsworthy material of this month, there is hardly any, as
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normal.
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We didn't merge.
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The web site (http://www.cybercomm.net/~edi/jonas.html) has been updated
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and changed somewhat. I added graphics! You can read the new issues
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online! Get new news about Jonas.. _AND_ you can get up to the minute
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news and weather!
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(You think I'm kidding about the news and weather?)
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I am starting a new guest column in Jonas. Since some of Jonas can be
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considered personal (as in a personal/diary 'zine), I want to hear from
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you. Each issue I will have (or at least hope to have) a different writer
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write about their life. Currently titled "How I Got This Way", each
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person will pull things from their own life that they think shaped the way
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they are today.
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I've been doing this with almost every issue. I am constantly relating
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things from my life that made me how I am. Maybe it was the relentless
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teasing that I endured through 7th and 8th grade, or the time I made an
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ass out of myself in front of the whole school; everything you do, no
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matter how trivial it can seem to be, shapes our life or shows a different
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side of you.
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So, pick up that keyboard. Write about your life. Tell the world (well,
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not the _entire_ world) about your life. Tell us about the exciting
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things that happen in your daily life. Tell us about the time someone
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pulled your shorts down in gym class, and you weren't wearing underwear!
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Don't be afraid, I haven't.
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If you are really interested in doing this, email me. I will publish it
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anonymously, if you would like. If I really see something really
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fascinating about you, or I get a tremendous response to your column, I
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may give you a column in every issue! Just think about that!
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To prove exactly how _easy_ it is to write something like this, I will act
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as your caring guide into this amazing jungle. I figure, no one will
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write for this column is I don't have the guts to do it first.. So, here
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it is. I am bearing my soul for one and all...
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It may seem silly, but everything that I am today -- my personality and
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such -- can have it's origin traced back to one day. One day changed my
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life forever, and made me who I am today. This day was in seventh grade.
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Let me tell you about myself first.
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I was born December 12, 1979. In grand ole' New York City. I moved to
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the New Jersey shore around my first birthday. La de da, I lived in a
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somewhat white trash neighborhood for my first 13 years.
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The area was good. I always had somewhere to ride my bike to. I always
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favored going on long bike rides, somewhere near the beach. I had this
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routine down, basically. I would ride about 2 1/2 miles to this baseball
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field near a marina. I don't know what it was about it, but there was
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this one peach tree. Right off of the road, next to the outfield. Maybe
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it was the way the wind blew in from the water, the view, or whatever.
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But that place was my utopia, my refuge. I loved that place. Sometimes I
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wish I could go back there.
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Growing up, I was always one of the smarter kids. Never _the_ smartest,
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but I always did good enough. A's and B's.. However, I was always the
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oddball. I had relativity few friends. My habits were always different
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from the other kids. I just didn't have the same interests. I didn't
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like playing sports, so I would always read. I look through some of the
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books that I used to read when I was in third grade, and I'm amazed. I
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also really liked maps. I could tell you every state and it's capital
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when I was in third grade. I read, read, and read more.
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I wasn't really fat. Just a little chunky. I rode on my bike, on average,
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about 2 miles a day, sometimes as much as 6. For a 10 year old, that's
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pretty good. So, because of the bike riding, I had fairly strong legs.
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Nothing incredible, but enough where I looked semi decent down there. The
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rest of my body is hell. Pure flab. I dress around my body, so I don't
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really show. I never go without wearing a shirt. Even if it's 100
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degrees, and I'm out at a pool or the beach swimming, I wear a t shirt.
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Granted, I do have very fair Irish skin, so I have an excuse.
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Anyway, since I was moderately overweight, I dreaded recess. We would
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play the same game every day- kickball. What a stupid sport that was.
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Maybe if I was good, I would not have minded. But I sucked. I never
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could hit the ball past the "infield." If I did, I couldn't run very
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fast. Damn those fuckers that made it so competitive. I would have to go
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through such torment after recess because I sucked at it so much.
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For about half of the fifth grade, three other kids and myself would sit
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in the corner of the playyard and play with matchbox cars. Just making
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roads in the dirt, driving the cars around, and then getting teased
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because we weren't playing kickball.
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I could deal with the whole school thing until about seventh grade.
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Granted, I had my fair share of times when I was spit on, thrown at with
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rocks, and beat up. I just don't really see the need to go into them that
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much right now. Maybe at a later date. To sum up my grades school life
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up to and including sixth grade- I was an outcast, nerd, dork. Not really
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liked.
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Boy, if I thought I wasn't liked in those years, wait until I moved!
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When I was twelve, my parents decided that it was time for us to move. We
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had been renting this small house, with rent going up and three kids
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getting older, we didn't need it anymore. So, we decided to move to a
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"better" neighborhood, which included changing schools.
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Luckily, the school in which I was going to, I had one of my friends in.
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Well, one of the two people I could consider a friend at that point. He
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had been a grade ahead of me in my old school, and failed one year, so he
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was forced to repeat the year. At that school, however, if you failed
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after fifth grade, you had to leave the school. So, in the long run, it
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helped me there. He helped me make friends and stuff, but I killed that
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after two weeks.
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Let me tell you about this school, first. I went from a fairly
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conservative school, to a majorly different school. My old school had
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about 40 kids in my grade, this one had 90. The kids themselves were
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different, too. Kids were already having sex, smoking pot, and drinking;
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in the seventh grade. Needless to say, this was all new to me.
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I wasn't warmly accepted, either. My natural shyness, combined with the
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new environment and the less then warm attitudes of the kids made me really
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nervous. Man, I really hated it. I wanted to go back to my old school,
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really bad.
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Then it happened. The day that changed my life forever. You wouldn't
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believe how one incident can change your life. This incident did.
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One day, only about two weeks into my new school, I wasn't feeling so
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good. Kind of sick, and very nervous. I don't know what really happened,
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I just shit myself. I was feeling a little queasy, but thought it was
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something in passing. I thought that I could hold it. But it happened
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anyway, right in the middle of history class.
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It was not just a small thing, this was a big thing. It stunk up the
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whole wing of the school. For the new kid to do that, it was a sin. At
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first, no one really knew what it was. Then, when we switched classes,
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and they saw the chair that I was in, well, then they knew what happened.
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The ride home from school was hell. At that time I was taking a mini-bus
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to school (I hadn't moved into my new home yet), and all four kids on the
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bus sat in the front, while I was in the back.
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Stage one -- Denial. I had a lot of people, obviously, come up to me and
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ask me if I did. I of course denied it, and not being the creative genius
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I am today, I said it was some smell coming from the radiators. Obviously,
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no one bought it. All alone, by myself. Setting the precedent which
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would remain to this day.
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LIFE WAS FUCKING HELL. You don't know how many nights I cried myself
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sleep. I had no friends. My best friend (the one I knew prior to
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switching schools) hardly talked to me for awhile. I had insults thrown
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at me from every direction. But I took it. I really had nothing to say
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to them. I did it, I admitted it (to myself.) I just sunk lower and lower
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into my desk, and didn't talk to anyone.
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For the rest of the seventh grade year, I was insulted pretty bad. But
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after awhile, they did calm down. Eight grade, I was insulted _really_
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bad. My new nickname: "Sergeant Piles." It was really abbreviated, the
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genius who thought it up named me "Sergeant Piles of Shit." The wounds
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just dug deeper. I still don't look at my yearbook from that school. I
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cry when I read what the kids wrote it in. For all I care, they can all
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rot in a big vat in hell. Fucking assholes.
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I looked forward to high school. I figured it would be a clean canvas. I
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was wrong. The 30 kids from my school that went to my high school soon
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told the other 90 kids about my deep dark past. The torments went on
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every single day. Everything from the kids saying "Man, I gotta take a
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shit" as they walked past me, to people just blatantly walking up to me
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and saying "YOU CRAPPED YOUR PANTS."
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Everything really hurt. I always thought that I was the one with the
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problem. I felt like the grotesque outcast. I didn't think I really
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belonged anymore. On several occasions I came very close to that suicide
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point, but I never got the nerve to actually go through with it.
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Then, over a period of time, it hit me. I'm not really the one with the
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problem; they are. Why the hell should I feel embarrassed? It was
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something that has happened three years ago. Should I feel ashamed
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because they're bringing up old garbage? No. It got boring after awhile,
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actually. Always the same insults. Never anything new. So tedious.
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But when I reflect on the whole incident, I actually am thankful that it
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happened. That one day, back in September of 1994, changed my life
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forever. It made me the person whom I am today.
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I am a substantially stronger person. Look, if you had those kinds of
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insults being thrown at you every five minutes, wouldn't you grow a little
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stronger in yourself after awhile? Yes, it sounds very contradictory, but
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somehow, it all unravels itself, and I'm the benefice in the end. Sure,
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I would have wasted everything if I had killed myself a long time ago, but
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I didn't. I'm here now, and that's what matters.
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I was able to see the flaws in other people. I'm not the only person with
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a gross past. I saw the traits in other people. I'm very perceptive of a
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person's personality. That helps me a lot today.
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Hell, if you really want to read into it. If I hadn't become so lonely,
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when I got that modem in eight grade, I may not have geeked out on the
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computer as much, and may not be sitting here right now writing this.
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How's that for fate?
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One thing that always struck me, was something that one of my "friends"
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said to me near the end of eighth grade.. We were talking, and he told
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me, "Tom, just think. Right now, everyone knows you. Would you rather be
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known, or a lonely nerd?" Well. He was right. Everyone did know me,
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maybe not what I would want them to know me for, but they knew me
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nonetheless.
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The really weird thing about the situation, is the fact that I have really
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only talked about it to kids that I went to school with at the time.
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Friends of mine from outside the school, I don't know if they know or not.
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For some strange reason, however, I'm telling hundreds of strangers right
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now. A year ago, I would never have even thought about this; right now,
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I'm bearing my soul to all.
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It's odd how you can gain hope from what seems like the most humiliating
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incidents. I'm glad I can.
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See how it all goes back to that one day? I might write a subsequent
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article to this, and go into detail about other aspects of my life. For
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now, I'll leave it at this, hopefully I'll have other people writing this
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'new' column. If you really want to hear more, you can always email me.
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See? If I had the guts to write that, with possible whiplash from
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immature readers who may bring it back up in my face, I'm sure you can
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write something like that too. C'mon, I know you can.
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As always.. Read, enjoy, send your comments to me.
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Have a nice day.
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(2) - Tragic Death Calls For New Regulations - by Edicius
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"We need to begin by acknowledging our own contribution ... We feed one
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another: those of you looking for publicity and those of us looking for
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stories." "whether we in the media ... by our ravenous attention
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contribute to this phenomenon ... We did."
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-- Ted Koppel on the questions posed by the death of Jessica Dubroff.
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-----
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The death of Jessica Dubroff shows us, as Americans, just how competitive
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we can be. This case brings to light new age parental teachers, a lax
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government organization, and an overzealous American bond.
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If a seven year-old was out driving a Ford down the New Jersey Turnpike,
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people would be afraid that she would cause an accident; when she's flying
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across the country, she becomes a national hero. Why would the Federal
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Aviation Administration allow this to go on, then?
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Granted, flying a plane is actually much safer then driving a car. You
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have more informational gauges, easier controls, and less objects to
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contend with. In theory, a seven year old should be able to fly a plane,
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but do they have the mental capabilities to actually do so?
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When Jessica Dubroff left Half Moon Bay, California, on April 10, she set
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out, along with her father, Lloyd, and her instruction, Joe Reid, to
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become the youngest pilot to fly cross country. The Guiness Book of World
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Records discontinued this category in 1989 to prevent a tragedy like this,
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and "Flying" magazine refuses to acknowledge attempts like this because
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they did not want to promote a stunt like this. J. Mac McClellan, editor
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in chief of the magazine said, "It has no validity from an aviation
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sense: the pilot in reality is the certified pilot." A certified pilot
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has to be 16, and this Jessica was not.
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One can debate the clause(s) that let Jessica fly. The FAA won't review
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their stand on flying age for about six months. At that time, the
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results from the crash investigation will be in, and we will be able to
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see who was really at the controls.
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The flight left from California and stopped at Cheyenne, Wyoming, before
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continuing with the trip to Falmouth, Massachusetts, with one more stop to
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refuel in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The landing in Cheyenne was tough. There
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were strong crosswinds that made the plane wobble on it's approach. The
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takeoff the next day was even tougher.
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With an approaching thunderstorm, the winds were whipping around at the
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speed of 25 to 30 mph, which would make a veteran pilot cease flight.
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In a push to keep on schedule, Jessica's father opted to continue on.
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In an interview before the takeoff, Jessica appeared as chipper as she was
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supposed to seem. "I had two hours of sleep last night." As they were
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taxing to the runway, Jessica spoke to her mother on a cellular phone and
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said, "Mom, do you hear the rain?"
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The plane took off, and was noticeably overweight. The thin mountain air
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(Cheyenne is 6,156 ft. above sea level) is a factor that adds extra time
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to the take off. Many pilots who are used to flying at low-levels don't
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compensate for this fact, and wind up in the golf course at the end of the
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runway. As the plane went through it's sluggish and shaky takeoff, the
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people on board must have instantly realized a problem. Reid's arms were
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more fractured then anyone's, which leads investigators to believe he had
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control of the plane.
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Jessica's parents typified the New Age idealism that makes people look
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crazy and strung-out. She was born in a birthing tub without a doctor or
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midwife present. Her parents kept her out of any formalized school,
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because they saw the institution of school as being too restraining.
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Instead of toys, they were giving tools to build their own furniture.
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Jessica and her mother lived in a house without television.
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Her parents believed that the child's bliss should guide them. They
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allowed Jessica to do whatever she wanted. According to them, after
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taking a flight on her sixth birthday, flying was what Jessica truly
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wanted to do. The idea of the cross-country trek was her father's,
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presented to her as "her choice."
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Her father became the public relations director for the voyage. Printing
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up specialty hats to remember the event, and making sure that the proper
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media (tv, print, and radio) would be covering it. From the minute she
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took off, the news covered every moment of it. They knew that if she made
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it, it would become the typical uplifting American spirit story that would
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make everyone feel better. If she crashed, just another accident to
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lead off the newscast with.
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The parents, the FAA, and the media: All part of a large chain that fed
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off of each other. The parents "fostered" their childrens' development,
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without holding back anything. The FAA allowed this to go on, without
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taking the proper precautions. The media covered the story, added the
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fuel that her parents needed to push Jessica even further.
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If the media wasn't involved in this, it may never have happened. Why
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else would her parents push her to do this? (Oh wait, I forgot. This is
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something that she _wanted_ to do!) What would they get out of it all? A
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few boasts here and there? Surely not enough to provoke a sane person to
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do this. (Whoops. Talking about the Dubroffs, and I used the word
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"sane"? Surely I jest.) It is just another in the line of parental
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pressure that pushes children to the point of burnout.
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When her mother, Lisa Blair Hathaway, visited the crash site in Cheyanne,
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Wyoming, she placed flowers on the spot. A young boy came up to her, and
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attempted to give her a teddy bear. Her response was that her children do
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not play with toys.
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This crash leads to many unanswered questions. This tragedy did not have
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to happen, but it did. The only thing we can do is to prevent it from
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happening again. That can only come through stronger regulations from the
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FAA.
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The FAA can change the rules, but we can't change parental zealousness.
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(3) - Supernatural Powers - By Edicius
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"If you could be any X-Man", Mike began to say to his friend John across
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the lunch table, "who would you be? Would you rather be Banshee or
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Wolverine?"
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"Well", John began to reply, "that's a hard question. Banshee can fly at
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the speed of sound, and Wolverine has those big claws. Plus, he can
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reheal really quick. I would take Wolverine. You would get tired of
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flying after awhile."
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"True, but if you could have a super-power, wouldn't it be flying?"
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"Not at all. If you're a superhero, you HAVE to fly. If you don't, well,
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|
then you're not a superhero. I mean, did you ever see a superhero who
|
|
didn't fly? Superman, Spiderman, Wonderwoman; they could all fly through
|
|
the air, somehow."
|
|
|
|
"Well, what about Hulk?"
|
|
|
|
"Man, if you were that strong, would you want to fly?"
|
|
|
|
"I guess not.. Well, what would your power be?"
|
|
|
|
"I would take the ability to stop time. You know how great that would be?
|
|
I mean, you would be the smartest, wittiest, and awesomest person in the
|
|
world. A teacher calls on you in school, you can pause time, and do
|
|
research on the question. If someone insults you, stop time and think of
|
|
something really witty to say. If you don't like someone, embarrass them
|
|
by taking off their clothes! It would be so fun! So dominating! You
|
|
could walk across the ocean and go anywhere!"
|
|
|
|
"Well, not really. I mean, the water wouldn't be still, because the water
|
|
molecules have to move still. If the air molecules are moving, so are the
|
|
water ones. If the air molecules weren't able to be moved, then you
|
|
couldn't move in the frozen time. It just wouldn't work. In that case,
|
|
you would need to be able to fly.. You would need that to get over the
|
|
oceans and stuff."
|
|
|
|
"True, very true. But imagine the possibilities. All the free sex you
|
|
want!" He points his friend toward Janice, who was bending over to pick
|
|
up a sodacan that she dropped. "Take Janice for a second. Pretty,
|
|
well-endowed, and perky. You want to have sex with a girl like that. But
|
|
you could _never_ have sex with a girl like that. As she is in a position
|
|
like she is now, pause time, lift up the skirt, and have fun."
|
|
|
|
"Wow. Good idea. You wouldn't have to worry about viruses, because
|
|
they're a living organism, and henceforth would be inactive at the time
|
|
you had sex. If you got her pregnant, no one would know who it was that
|
|
impregnated her! Two months down the road she starts getting sick in the
|
|
morning! Oh the joy.. Hey, you could also go into a bank, stop time, and
|
|
take all the money, too!"
|
|
|
|
"But, my friend, you wouldn't need to. Why would you need money when you
|
|
can go into a store, stop time, and take everything you want without being
|
|
seen?"
|
|
|
|
"Well, yeah. But you need some money to make some of the 'purchases' look
|
|
legitimate."
|
|
|
|
"I guess."
|
|
|
|
"Wait.. We agreed that the air and water molecules would be moving,
|
|
right?"
|
|
|
|
"Yeah."
|
|
|
|
"Well, if they're moving, then what is suspending the planes in the air?
|
|
The fish in the water? Whats to keep everything up? You could kill
|
|
thousands at a time by crashing every plane at the same time. You could
|
|
plan it, really- 'You leave for Florida Friday at four? Uh.. Have a nice
|
|
and safe trip'", Mike said with a sinister laugh. "Really, where would
|
|
gravity be? You would just float into the air. It would defeat the whole
|
|
purpose of stopping time. When you would reactivate time, you would just
|
|
fall back to Earth when gravity kicks back in.. or, you would burn
|
|
instantly if you floated all the way to space."
|
|
|
|
"Good point. Man, stopping time sucks. I'd take flying now. Actually,
|
|
I'd take invisibility with the power to walk through walls, but that's
|
|
being a little picky."
|
|
|
|
"Picky? You want to know picky? I'd take the invisibility with wall
|
|
walking option, but I would also have the power to slip out of my body,
|
|
and allow my body to keep functioning normally. Then I could slip into
|
|
someone elses'' body, and control them."
|
|
|
|
"Just take mind-control in that regard."
|
|
|
|
"I guess.. Hey, who would you rather be, Spiderman or Wonderwoman?"
|
|
|
|
"I'd be Wonderwoman. I would fuck saving the world and play with myself
|
|
all day."
|
|
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
(4) - Reviews: Edicius' Opinions on EVERYTHING!
|
|
|
|
Concert: Brutal Juice/Civ/Toadies - Stone Pony, Asbury Park, NJ - April 27
|
|
|
|
When I first heard that Civ was playing in my area, over a month ago, I
|
|
knew that I was going to that show. Over the course of a month, I had
|
|
about 18 different rides fall through on me. It wasn't until about 2:00
|
|
AM, the day of the show, that I had a definite ride.
|
|
|
|
I went to the show with fellow 'zinesters Mindcrime, Belial, and Lucifer.
|
|
We went there planning on buying tickets at the door. Unfortunately, a lot
|
|
of other people did too, and it was sold out when we got their.
|
|
|
|
Mindcrime and Belial didn't really feel like scalping tickets, but Lucifer
|
|
and myself did. Unfortunately, no one had extra tickets. One of my
|
|
friend's friend would have an extra ticket, but she didn't show up for
|
|
awhile. The bouncer at the door told me that in twenty minutes, he would
|
|
sell Lucifer and myself tickets for $20. The tickets went for $12.50, $15
|
|
with Ticketmaster charges, but we were willing to pay it. However, we
|
|
didn't have to wait, some guy had two extra tickets for $15 each.
|
|
|
|
We get in, and after finding our way to a reasonably good spot, we waited.
|
|
Waited, and waited, and waited. After about 30 minutes (over an hour
|
|
since the doors first opened), the first band comes on. The band was
|
|
Brutal Juice, whom I never heard of before, and didn't know what they
|
|
would be like.
|
|
|
|
They were actually really good. They turned out to be a pretty decent
|
|
punk band. Touring in support of their Interscope Records release,
|
|
entitled _Mutilation Makes Identification Difficult_, they played their
|
|
current single "Ugly on the Inside." After a few more dates with the
|
|
Toadies, they tour with Gwar in May.
|
|
|
|
The crowd got into this one. A pretty intense mosh pit, with dozens of
|
|
crowd surfers. The lead singer of Brutal Juice came out during their last
|
|
song and hung from the water pipe that ran just over the crowd. Needless
|
|
to say the bouncers were pissed. There was one fight which was cause by a
|
|
dickhead. The guy had the nerve to kick and hit someone after they fell
|
|
in the middle of the pit. It was quickly ended.
|
|
|
|
I promised Lucifer that I'd interject in my review that as he was getting
|
|
water between the Brutal Juice and Civ sets, a really hot girl was hitting
|
|
on him.
|
|
|
|
Next came the crowd favorite, Civ.
|
|
|
|
Near the end of the Brutal Juice set, I made sure that I made my way up to
|
|
front for the Civ set. If my past experiences with the band told me
|
|
anything, they told me that the place would erupt the second Sammy started
|
|
to pound on those drums. The place did when the first few notes of
|
|
"United Kids" were heard.
|
|
|
|
Playing songs from their Lava Records release, _Set Your Goals_, Civ
|
|
filled the air for about an hour with many socially uplifting messages.
|
|
Both during and between songs. Before their song, "Don't Got to Prove
|
|
It", Civ (the lead singer of the same-named band) said, "This song goes
|
|
out to everyone .. if you want to be a punk, a skinhead, a metalhead ..
|
|
whatever you want to be .. if you want to be a freak .. if anyone says
|
|
anything, fuck them."
|
|
|
|
Playing all of the songs on their CD, including "Can't Wait One Minute
|
|
More", "Choices Made", "State of Grace", and the title track, "Set Your
|
|
Goals", they also played a new song called "Social Climber." This song
|
|
was about the "very beautiful, very fabulous .. and the very annoying.
|
|
The kind I [Civ] fucking hate."
|
|
|
|
As always, the pit was incredible. During "So Far.. So Good.. So What",
|
|
the place erupted into a monster circle pit and hundreds doing the pogo.
|
|
Civ was constantly near the crowd. He didn't let the gate in front of the
|
|
stage stop him, either. He used the water pipes and lighting hanging over
|
|
the front of the stage to his advantage and constantly hung over the
|
|
crowd. When one crowd surfer almost hit him as he was singing, Civ
|
|
quickly said, "Hey, nice to see you up here."
|
|
|
|
The headliner of the night came on next. The Toadies are currently
|
|
touring in support of their current CD, _Rubberneck_. They were really
|
|
good, attracting a very diverse crowd age-wise. They played for nearly an
|
|
hour and a half.
|
|
|
|
I'm going to totally skip over the rest of the Toadies set. Mainly
|
|
because at the beginning of the set, I got knocked over in the pit, and a
|
|
400 pound guy fell on me. Luckily I was picked up before (too many)
|
|
people stepped on me. After that, I just slam danced and pogoed my way
|
|
across the floor, into the back of the club, and took a seat for awhile.
|
|
|
|
I did go back in, but I never did get into the Toadies' set too much.
|
|
They played really good, however. I guess if I had known more about them
|
|
before the show, I would have had fun.
|
|
|
|
Now, as I'm sitting here the next day, I see that I have something that
|
|
really looks like a bite mark on my wrist. I have no idea how that got
|
|
there. Eerie.
|
|
|
|
eZINE: Doomed to Obscurity - Issue Nine
|
|
|
|
For almost nine months now, Doomed to Obscurity has been releasing very
|
|
large issues. Many different writers with many different articles. The
|
|
last few issues prior to issue nine have been alittle less then what you
|
|
would expect from them, quality wise. This issue they changed that.
|
|
|
|
I really enjoyed this issue. They changed the layout, with one of the
|
|
editors, Eerie, working on it this time. That was a nice sight. Also,
|
|
they had some really great articles. My personal favorites were Styx's
|
|
"Sliced and Diced Hookers in a Ziplock Bag", Mogel's "My Belly", Morpheus'
|
|
"Video Games Stole My Childhood", and as always, all of Eerie's work.
|
|
|
|
The rest of the issue was good. The only things I didn't like were James
|
|
Hetfield's opening article called "Girls Can't Write", and Creed's "A
|
|
Multi-Cultural Spectrum of Anger." Dead Cheese's 'ascii toon' wasn't so
|
|
good, either.
|
|
|
|
You contact DTO at their web site, http://www.thirdwave.net/~dto, or by
|
|
emailing them at doomed@voicenet.com.
|
|
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
(5) - News Snippets - Compiled by Edicius
|
|
|
|
From the Middletown [NJ] Independent, 5/1/96:
|
|
|
|
_Boy Injured in Explosion_
|
|
(By Eileen Koutnik, Staff Writer)
|
|
|
|
ABERDEEN-- An 11-year old boy was seriously injured last week while trying
|
|
to make an explosive using gunpowder, wire, a battery pack, and an
|
|
electrical switch, police said.
|
|
|
|
The boy and at least two other boys -- one aged 12 and the other 14 -- were
|
|
at the victim's Cedar Place home in Cliffwood Beach section when the
|
|
accident occured at about 3:30 pm April 22.
|
|
|
|
They removed the gunpowder from shotgun shells, and tried to assemble an
|
|
explosive, police said.
|
|
|
|
The 11-year old suffered burns to his chest and the right side of his face.
|
|
He was airlifted to St. Barnabas Medical Center, Livingston Township and
|
|
released from the hospital April 25, a hospital spokeswoman said.
|
|
|
|
Lt. John Powers said police recovered the shotgun shells on the property,
|
|
but are still looking into where they came from.
|
|
|
|
Police said the victim was closest to the explosive when it exploded in the
|
|
living room of his house. The other boys were not injured.
|
|
|
|
One of the boys said they were inspired by the movie, "The Specialist,"
|
|
according to Powers. Powers did not know if they boys were being
|
|
supervised by an adult.
|
|
|
|
Charges are pending and will be filed in family court against the boys
|
|
involved, Powers said.
|
|
|
|
Aberdeen Police Detective Michael Vacaro and Detective Robert Mazur from
|
|
the New Jersey State Police are investigating.
|
|
|
|
----------
|
|
|
|
From the Middletown [NJ] Independent, 5/1/96, Letters to the Editor,
|
|
|
|
_Local Boys Did the Right Thing_
|
|
|
|
On April 13, I was notified by several young boys that they had located a
|
|
bag of drugs. The three young boys, Michael Guadian, Stephen Woodford and
|
|
Joeseph Walling waited at the scene and kept the item in sight until our
|
|
arrival. Althought the bag turned out the more tobacco than narcotic,
|
|
there was trace elements of marijuana in it.
|
|
|
|
According to Detective Stephen Wheeler, the course of action taken by the
|
|
youths was textbook according to what is taught in the DARE program. At
|
|
the minimum, the youngsters reconized the item for what it was --
|
|
potentially dangerous -- and they made a very good decision.
|
|
|
|
The detectives in this bureau would like to commend Michael Gaudian,
|
|
Stephen Woodford and Joseph Walling for th epositive actions they took on
|
|
April 13. Congratulations guys, you did a good job!
|
|
|
|
Kevin J. Cassidy
|
|
Detective
|
|
Keyport Detective Bureau
|
|
Bayshore Narcotics Task Force
|
|
|
|
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
|
|
Jonas e'Zine Issue Seventeen
|
|
Send all inquiries to edi@cybercomm.net
|
|
Visit the new and expanded Jonas website at:
|
|
http://www.cybercomm.net/~edi/jonas.html
|
|
Visit Belial @ Avalon, (908) 739/4274
|
|
|
|
"Jonas, it is more then a 'zine, its a lifestyle"
|
|
|
|
---------------------------------- eof -----------------------------------
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