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You were WHAT?!?!?!
From Saturday's Toronto Star:
>"OFFICER MUST PAY $70, 000
>Cordoba police Sergeant Jorge Ceballos
>was ordered yesterday to pay $70,000
>in compensation to a man he accidentally
>shot in the leg while trying to use his
>regulation pistol as a bottle opener,
>court officials said. Alejandro Lencina
>was left permanently disabled."
Meanwhile back in the land of bilk and money...
Live from Hell, Michigan, It's ATI!
Right about now, funk soul bro
****** ******** ********
** ** ** **
******** ** **
** ** ** **
** ** ** ********
** ** ** ********
Issue 223.
The all-impressive dogstar issue. Dedicated
primarily to the convergence. Yee hah! Yippie.
Half moon appears May 10. But last nite, 000505,
we had a neato. Did anyone see it? Liar. You
can't see that far, can you?? All four presidential
candidates lined up on the other side of Mars.
I just KNOW you can't see THAT FAR.
"If I had my dream I would fill a hall and tell all the
people tear down the walls that keeps them from being a
part of it all 'cause they gotta get close to it all and
accept and be a part of it all."
--Melanie Safka
Hello, I'm prime anarchist, and this is the 'zine.
There ain't much to rant about. Or there might be
too much, so you'll have to wait 'til next week or
so, for much of the rants you've come to know and
love. (I didn't want you to think things were changing
around here, "just a cause" you don't see something.)
pg 3 correction:
eating=buying
In an issue 222 story we made a horrible mistake in
word choice. We stand regretful about the (t)error.
#'s for 0005061939
http://home.att.net/~r.rumpel
http://members.xoom.com/anarchypic
http://www.newspoetry.com
http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/6443/index1.html
http://www.h2k.net
http://damnage.com/thoughtcrime
http://www.abovetopsecret.com/camps.html
http://www.2600.com/news/2000/0420.html
http://members.home.net/comintern/archives/ncom104.txt
http://www.hpoo.com
http://www.butseriously.com
http://www.stockton.edu/~change/unity2000
http://members.xoom.com/a16peacekeep
http://www.funnyshack.com/mated.htm
http://www.wcl.org/home.html
http://www.iamhappyblue.com/issue2
http://internettrash.com/users/syko416/sykotic32.txt
http://home.edmc.net/~theclone/nettwerked/index1.html
http://maura.com
http://www.nonogirl.com/index2.html
http://www.toastedspiral.com
http://www.l0pht.com
\ /\ / /\ \ /\ / /\
\/ \/ /--\ \/ \/ /--\
& LETTUCE
Open Letter to Connetquot Senior High School 1990 grads.
Please check in at
http://www.geocities.com/broadway/stage/1579/fitch.html
until we have a page of our own. Marco's been kind enough
to facilitate our getting ahold of each other through there
for now.
Emmy
A new method of selling and buying copy is changing
publishing. I have just been accepted by
http://www.correspondent.com. Anyone in the biz
should stop and take a look.
My 2 cents.
Laura Bell
dear marco
please send a subscription to my friend
joe k- [address]@[domain].com
thanks
Marc,
You would never believe how cool TM
really is. (Unless you practice it)
What's new? I get to be in a musical
this summer: West Side Story. I'm
writing a book and a play.
Hmm...What else... That's it, really.
Later,
R R
>To anyone who has read a significant amount of HST's work it is obvious that
>large amounts of "The Rum Diary" were written in recent years. Certain phrases
>which appear in his latter works are not present in the older pieces. Your
>insistance on referances to the book, your vehement attitude, and your foolish
>decision to take Marc Frucht seriously can only lead to one conclusion: you are
>an idiot. It's obvious that you take yourself way too seriously. I look forward
>to your desperate defense. I'm sure that it will be riddled with despertion and
>thoruoughly entertaining.
Dear ATI, it's 12:49am and I've got two papers to write,
but instead i've just invented my first ever mildly
challenging "puzzler". So I'm procrastinating by sending
it out to a couple people.
The best solution is probably 10 to 1000 times better
than the worst solution (in the time it will take you to
decode it). Decode this:
@3oo * 43qoo6 e9h[5 h33e 59 574j 8j 5y3 0q034 7j58o R8eq6 w9 2y6 29446:
Qh69h3 8h *ne8qhq 204i8ht 9j 5y3 Hqe34 dqj0q8tj: 03qd3 Qq49h
--aaron
lots of poetry though if you want some...
Shayna
to ati@etext.org
[snip: commercial ezine looking thing]
to ati@etext.org
[snip: commercial ezine looking thing]
to ati@etext.org
[snip: commercial ezine looking thing]
to ati@etext.org
[snip: commercial ezine looking thing]
[ed note: should we just start reporting
a number each week???]
oo 00
o o 0 0
o o 0 0
o o 0 0
oo 00
Guitar Anarchy Tip #19
Punk Rock Girl, a prime parody
F A# F
One Saturday I took a walk to Michigan
F A# C
I met a girl there and she quick became my friend
Dm A#
(Punk rock girl) Please look at me
Am A#
(Punk rock girl) What do you see?
F C Dm A# C F
Let's travel round the world, just you and me punk rock girl
I tapped her on the shoulder and said "Do you have a boy?"
She looked at me and smiled and said she did not know, Oy!
(Punk rock girl) Give me a chance
(Punk rock girl) Let's go slam dance
We'll dress like Minnie Pearl just you and me punk rock girl
We went-to-the-local Starbucks and ordered green coffee
The waitress she said no because our bathrooms out of order
So we jumped up on the internet and shouted anarchy
And someone played Dead Kennedies on acoustic guitar
It was "Super Duper Alice" so we all started screamin
California, California, Super Duper Alice.
She took me to her parents for a Sunday meal
Her father got the background check and he began to squeal
(Punk rock girl) It makes no sense
(Punk rock girl) Your daddy's a vice president
Rich as the Duke of Earl yeah, you're for me Al Gore's girl
We went to a shopping mall makin fun of all the cops
The security guards trailed us into a record shop
We asked for Mojo Nixon, they said "He don't work here"
We said if you don't got Mojo Nixon then your store could use some fixin
We got into her car and drove right across their yard
I said "how much you pay for this?" she said "no, bogus credit card!"
(Punk rock girl) You look so wild
(Punk rock girl) Let's have a child
We'll name her Minnie Pearl
Just you and me Eat fudge banana swirl
Just you and me if it's a boy we'll name him Earl
Just you and me we, got our black flag furled
Just you and me punk rock girl
HOOT!
& now more Aaron Kreider Road Notes
(con't from 2 issues ago (221?))
05.20
I replaced my three bottle 1.5 L water system, with a 1L bottle to save
weight. That morning Krista gave me a ride to the nearer toll road
entrance on her way to work. At 11:59am I was at N 42 19.176 W 88
57.737. I was at the entrance to the toll road going North / South. It
was an automatic toll road, so there weren't any employees to see me.
There was a lot of traffic, good visibility (I stood right in front of the
no hitch-hiking sign), and a decent shoulder. Though the area (suburbia /
midwest) might have been bad for getting rides. I did see three police
cars, one of which went by me and then did a turn around and headed at me
at full speed! They must have had a call or something since they didn't
bother me. I acted nonchalant at first (looking at the ground, stopped
holding out my thumb) when I saw them, to prevent directly antagonising
them. It took a long time to get a ride. I think I was offered a short
distance ride (or two?) which I refused. Eventually I was rather fed-up of
standing outside (it was warm and I was getting a bit thirsty but with a
nice wind), and I did have a bit of a sun-burn from the previous day so I
took the next ride which was with two guys after having waited a little
over two hours. For a while I was wondering if I would still be there when
Krista was done with work! I was still not sure how viable hitch-hiking
was as a form of travel. I had doubts that I would make it, expecting that
it was more likely that I would give-up and take the next Greyhound to
Philadelphia from somewhere a little West of Indiana. I got a 'seat' in
the back of a mini-van with a dog and a rusty bike. They didn't go that
far, just into Wisconsin. We didn't talk much. It was the only time I was
picked up by two people. They gave me some Mc D french fries which were
good.
At 2:30pm we arrived at N 42 31.586 W 88 58.662 just over the border near
Beloit. Hmm I'm forgetting one of my rides here I think, at least the
'who' it was part I swiftly got another ride (like within four minutes)
and by 3:00pm was in Janesville (N 42 43.461 W 88 59.605). Now here I'm
not sure whether I got a separate ride in Janesville or whether I was with
the same guy until Madison. My guess is that I got a ride here to Madison
hitching from N 42 43.470 W 88 59.608 (at 3:01pm). From here I relatively
quickly (within half an hour I think) got a ride with a pharmacist who
worked in K Mart and went to Madison. He had just finished working and was
in a bad mood as he really didn't enjoy his job. My guide to hitch-hiking
book mentioned frustration and people getting off work as good
possibilities for rides, and he fit that model. To my greatest fortune, he
was an amateur radio operator and had both a ham radio (with scanner
coverage) and a CB in his vehicle. We saw a truck with Fargo, ND on the
sides and he tried to page them on the CB to get me a ride. He had
previously tried the ham radio (likely the 2 meter band) to see if anyone
was listening and going my way. We didn't get a reply from the truck, but
got one from another one. He sold me as a college student trying to go
home to the west coast and that worked well. So he let me out at a truck
stop a little past Madison, where I met up with the truck driver at around
4:27pm (N 43 10.986 W 89.19.375).
The driver was in his fifties. Heavy-set. At Madison he stopped for supper
(a LARGE steak - he stopped here often enough to have entered the drawing
for a huge steak, but never to yet have won), gas (what's a couple hundred
gallons?), and a shower. That was fine with me since I was feeling
incredibly lucky to have a ride to ND of all places!!! By now I was
convinced that hitch-hiking, be it by some flukish magic or not, was a very
functional proposition. The normalness and niceness of the drivers was
refreshing. This driver seemed to have been driving for a while (10 or 20
years or more) and seemed very safe. We talked a bit about communities
(did a little moralising on our society needing it) as he had hauled some
stuff for Hutterites before (they had a colony in Wisconsin), and suspected
I might be Amish (perhaps the beard?). In fact I'm Mennonite. The Amish
broke-off from the Mennonites a couple hundred years ago in opposition to
the use of certain forms of technology (whereas most Mennonites will use
cars, computers, etc). Either the Hutterites or perhaps the Amish made
wood houses for people, he'd haul the wood (to as far as Maine) and they
would set it up for free if someone would provide them with housing and
food. I had a harder time talking to him than a lot of the other people
since we had a big age gap and were quite different. We talked about
general stuff like trucking, weather, geography, CB, hitch-hiking, and I
forget what all. At 11:10pm we were past the Twin Cities, near St. Cloud
at N 45 21.981 W 93 58.585, clearly making some progress! Wisconsin was
much nicer as there were good tree cover on rolling hills. It also became
more rural with much less traffic. We stopped an hour or so outside of
Fargo (probably around 1am) for five hours of sleep. Most trucks have
bunk beds in them.
05.21
We arrived in Fargo before 8am. At 7:56am I recorded the truck stop
where I was let out as: N 46 51.055 W 96 51.731. I went to the bathroom
and maybe got a soda. Then I tried to get a ride at the BIG truck stop.
At this time I gave up on going through Canada, deciding I'd make the
best time taking 90 as it went directly to Seattle. I could have taken
Interstate 29 to Winnipeg, but didn't. There were probably fifty trucks
there. Likely a lot of people getting up for the next day's ride. I asked
one guy in a truck which said Washington, and there were a couple
Washington trucks. He smiled but said he was going the other way. I was
told-off by a guy in a pickup that I wasn't meant to be soliciting at the
truck stop. I doubt he believed me when I said I hadn't seen the
no-soliciting signs (but it was true!). My goal at this point was to get a
ride all the way to Seattle. I was young, a little, but not too, naive and
feeling good. My hitching spot was pretty bad. I first tried to hitch
near the entrance, but there was a lousy shoulder especially for trucks if
they'd want to pull off. I eventually moved to directly target traffic
coming out of the truck stop which could stop with less problems (as they
would just be picking up speed and have to stop to turn anyways - stopping
trucks is problematic since they have at least eight gears they must shift
up through again). I waited a while. Eventually an older guy walked up to
me (hardly no-one was walking around as we were on the west edge of town,
an area like Grape Road South Bend - aka strip malls) and asked for money
to buy coffee. I gave him a dollar and joined him since I didn't have
anything to do and to sit down. I was a little cold as it was very windy
(especially when I started around 8am or 9am before the day warmed up). He
offered to try and find me a ride when I said I'd been kicked out of the
stop, though I don't know if he would have done that good a job, so I
just joined him for coffee.
He got a discounted small pitcher (they gave it to him for a dollar). He
was a Vietnam vet, probably in his late forties or fifties. He'd been
wandering around for years and looked like a real hobo. He'd hopped
trains, hitch hiked, walked, and was currently planning on leaving Fargo
for elsewheres. He had some benign cancer (?) for which he'd gotten
treatment. He was disturbed, making random comments and mentioning
subliminal messages. Possibly schizophrenic but I have very little
experience with identifying that trait so I wouldn't know. When talking he
would look straight ahead, not at anything in particular, not at me. I
asked him about the train and he said it was a straight ride from here out
west, but that the trains didn't slow down often in Fargo and he wasn't
sure where they did (change crews). He had an assortment of stuff in his
pockets. He gave me a feather (probably goose, but he originally thought
it might be an eagle one) as a 'sign of friendship' and a wampum bead.
Both of which he'd found on the road. He always had a walkman (AM/FM no
cassette) with headphones on his ears. The walkman was very interesting as
it has a collection of short long things and rubber band types things
attached to it, almost like they were keeping the thing together, but they
seemed inadequate or very clumsy if that was their intent. He talked a
little about his friends who were wandering around. I mostly listened. He
offered me a fake ID to sell, which I declined. Eventually he left to get
lunch at the Salvation Army and I returned to the road.
(CON'T Next Issue)
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PRESS RELEASE:
Welcome to the latest issue of SOCIAL JUSTICE E-ZINE. The
name Social Justice encompasses the struggles of people
everywhere who work for gender equality, democratic government,
economic opportunity, intellectual freedom, environmental
protection, and human rights.
Social Justice is an electronic magazine (e-zine) designed for
free distribution through the internet. SJ now reaches
approximately 10,000 e-mail recipients in eight dozen
countries. Stories from SJ are then broadcast on radio stations
throughout the world. Feel free to make copies and share with
friends (or enemies). Think of this as a regular magazine without
the recycling. If there's nothing you want to read in this issue,
just hit delete.
Those wishing to be added to the subscription list (or
conversely, those who want off the list) should write to us at:
goforth86@home.com
http://members.tripod.com/~goforth/socialjustice.html
An Open Letter to the Hattiesburg Public School District
To the Administrators, Teachers, and Students of Hattiesburg
High School:
I am a 1982 graduate of HHS. It would be fitting to say that of all the
classes I took at HHS, there was no class I enjoyed more than Journalism
I. Mrs. Neda Richards was a very tolerant teacher, as she put up with my
antics in the classroom.
Either thru luck or good writing, I had a few pieces published in the
school paper, "Hi-Flashes". I still have those today, saved for my own
son, Matt.
In the years after graduation, I have used my journalistic skills more
than a few times. I have written stories for company newsletters and
small newspapers. I am also in the process of writing a book called "The
Hosshead Companion", which is about the music of Waylon Jennings.
But one of the biggest joys of my adult life was having an article
published in an electronic magazine called Activist Times, Inc.,
concerning an entity called Channel One entitled "Barbarians In
The Classroom: A Look At Channel One." The article dealt with
commercialization in public schools via the Channel One TV program
and the efforts taken to have it removed from local schools.
Therefore, I was extremely shocked and saddened when I found out
my alma mater is now a Channel One school.
(Have you ever seen a "Simpsons" episode called "Mr. Lisa Goes To
Washington"? If not, here's the plot. Lisa wins a patriotic essay
writing contest, and wins a trip to Washington D.C. to compete in the
national finals. In her search for inspiration for her entry, she
witnesses a crooked senator accepting a bribe from a lobbyist.
Suffice it to say my reaction was similar to Lisa's.)
As you are no doubt aware, Channel One has been called "the most
controversial show on television". And for good reason. Schools that
sign a contract with Primedia (Channel One's parent company) are loaned
TV sets for each classroom, fixed-band satellite equipment for reception
of the program, two VCR's (one for recording, one for playback), and
enough coaxial cable to wire the school. In return, the HPSD agrees to
show the entire Channel One program, including two minutes of
commercials. They also agree to show the program to 90% of the students
present, on 90% of scheduled class days during school hours.
It troubles me deeply that the HPSD would become involved in such a
psuedo-educational venture. The stated purpose of Channel One's
existence is to "penetrate the teen market". And it does that very well.
Companies such as Coca-Cola and M&M/Mars pay millions of dollars to have
their commercials aired on Channel One. These advertisements do not
generate any income for the HPSD, but are required nonetheless to
carry them if they want to keep TV equipment they don't even own.
Commercials aside, the Channel One program itself is also controversial
in the fact that materialistic attitudes are not only developed, but
encouraged. This, in my opinion, is a very unhealthy attitude to foster
in a classroom. Not to mention hawking nutritionally questionable foods
such as Pringles and Snickers.
Many educational associations oppose the use of Channel One in schools.
These organizations include the National PTA, American Federation of
Teachers, and the NEA.
In case you're wondering, there are other news programs out there. CNN
produces a news program tailored for High School students called "CNN
Newsroom". This program (and associated instructional materials) is
produced by an award-winning, internationally respected news
organization, not an advertising agency. This program is available free
of charge. And, there isn't an advertisement in sight.
I call upon the Administration, Teachers, and Students of HHS to put an
end to commercialization in the classroom. Standing on your principles
and refusing to compromise journalistic ethics for a company that see
you as a marketing tool would be the best lesson for all concerned
Patrick Moore (HHS Class of '82)
pmoore@intop.net
/\
\/
ATI : Reaching Parody Every Week Since 1988.
A McGospel Tune 4 U
McHappy Day
" "
When burgers fried
" "
" "
Washed my weightloss away
McHappy Day
/\
\/
SHORT POEM
Spring Mix
Hey Sysco Kid!
Who decides what six lea(f)(ves)
Go(es) into the packaging
And what four thousand don't?
Need another one?
This is by Amor Ypaz
A rebel without a cause,
Unless you count homelessness,
or poverty,
or the environment?
or non-violence,
or racism,
Need I continue?
*&^%*&^%*&^%&^%&$%#$@$#%$$&*&)(*^&$^&
Well, that's about it for the E-ZINE
send any complaints or submissions to:
ati@etext.org
Go to all or none of our unofficial websites:
http://www.angelfire.com/wi/kokopeli/ATI.html
http://www.freespeech.org/kokopeli/grudge.html
http://cosmos.lod.com/~ati
Our http://www.thepentagon.com/primeanarchist
seems to have died out.
UPDATE: [it was down for 3 days. seems to be
fine now...] I guess it was fun while
it lasted. Thanks to Barata Eletrica for that
one! Muchas gracias para todos, lo siento
and a big "sorry" to anyone who thought we
really WERE inside the pentagon. Only on
Monday mornings, right Art?
*&^%*&^%*&^%&^%&$%%$$&*^^(*&)(&)(*^&$^&
We end with a short poem.
Artis
by Marc Frucht
Art is not always a painting
Art is a trash heap that just
Happened to build in the right way.
Art is a sandcastle you know will be
Begone in 24 or so.
Art is a train wreck
That makes perfect looking M's and W's.
Art is everyone in town dying -
In alphabetic order.
Art is a jazzband using hubcaps for percussion.
Art is a lonely guy sitting in a cafe window
Watching the world go by.
Art is telling your philosophy prof
He's full of foofoo about Ginsberg.
Art is failing out of Brown University
But dropping out first so you'll look cynical.
Art is waging a war and
Staging it so as to interrupt the
Superbowl on ABC TV.
Art is beating the tar out of
Someone who burnt a flag.
Art is also someone burning one!
Art is turning in your mother
Because she smokes pot.
Art is the coupon you can use from your
Newspaper page 3. To turn in mom.
Art is smoking dope in front of your son.
Art is wearing a shirt or hat --
That everyone seems to
Strike up conversation about.
Art is me.
And me is offended at what
You call me and what you
Dont.
Art is my life.
I am Art.
Art is.
Artis.
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