textfiles/magazines/FATNIPPLES/fat_nipples_4

This is my letter to the world, my subconscious.  I know that 
you are not real.  You surprise me because that is what I 
want.  Every secret you hold from me is my own invention.  
Now, I exercise futility by writing to my subconscious's pawns.  
You are not safe any more.  I am aware of your unreality and I 
shall treat you accordingly.  Now you are wondering what I am 
talking about or laughing at me, but this is as I have created.  
You do not exist to me.  You are manipulations of my 
universe.  You hold such a fascination, but now I see through 
you.  You only hate me because I want you to.  You only love 
me because that's what I need.  You're only my friend 
because I created you as such.  When I am no longer, you will 
cease.  You cannot even be aware of that, since you have no 
substance, no talent for introspection.  You are my robots, my 
pawns.  Dance for me.
----


FAT NIPPLES #4 - Spring/Summer 1994


PERPETRATOR: Chris
ABETTORS: Sean, Mimi, Maggie, Shimme, Brian 
(unknowing, unwilling), Marisa


Additional copies of this issue cost 2 stamps.


There are still a few back issues left, if your interested.
Fat Nipples #2 - 3 stamps
Fat Nipples #1 - 2 stamps


Fat Nipples' sister, Attack Poetry, is available for 1 stamp.


Fat Nipples T-shirts are also available.  They say "I Love Fat 
Nipples (the fanzine, stupid)".  They cost $5 ppd.


Contributions are always welcome.


To purchase any of these things or to correspond with his 
humble greatness, Chris (do I have to beg?), write to:


FN
P.O. Box 2554
Trenton, NJ 08690
(609)890-0995


Internet: chris@pluto.njcc.com
---


Welcome to this rag.  I sincerely hope you enjoy it.  This issue 
took me twice as long as any other for a variety of reasons.  
The typeface is considerable smaller, I had virtually no 
contributions to work with, my writing habits are sporadic at 
best.  As a result, I have put a lot more time, effort, care and 
soul into this issue.  Work began on January 6, 1994.  I am 
writing this on May 18 of the same year and plan to complete 
this sometime in June August.


The concept of Fat Nipples has changed since the last issue.  
The style continues to mutate, following some unconscious 
whim.  I have started to get more organized as far as outside 
world contact.  I am working on a mailing list database 
(doubly backed up) to save me from zine addressing hell.  Fat 
Nipples is now being sold by a few distros.  Hopefully this isn't 
going to be printed at Staples the Corporate Colloso-world as 
the others have.  I have made startling progress exploring the 
world of cyberspace.  Fat Nipples text files are now readily 
available throughout the Internet.  I'm thinking about starting a 
World Wide Web page for Fat Nipples.  Computer eggheads, 
please get in touch if you can help or contribute!


There are a couple changes in format this time.  Reviews are 
gone, replaced by a simpler and far less annoying playlist.  
Poems are gone.  I refer you to Attack Poetry, Fat Nips 
beautiful little sister, available free at this address.  Ads are 
gone.  This is partly because I consider them filler and partly 
because I received no ads from anyone that I know.  Enjoy.
----


I don<6F>t need to be treated like a martyr.  I need to be treated 
like a human being.
----


LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

dearest chris and sean,
thank you for the copy of fat nipples #2.  I guess I will start out by 
saying that i was disappointed that a letter did not accompany your 
zine.  i do not know how you got my address or why you decided that 
you wanted to check out my zine.  i am glad that you did i just wish 
people would actually write me and say actual things rather than 'send 
me a zine'.  do you know how that is?  at least i received a zine with 
your request.  you didn't take the time to write but i'm always a little 
more lenient when it comes to fellow zine geeks.  i know how it gets 
doing all the bullshit that goes with putting out a zine.  i guess you 
probably would like to know what i thought.  even if you didn't i'm 
going to.  i don't like the name.  i'm not offended by it or anything it 
just seems like there might be a humorous story behind it and without 
knowing that story it just falls short.  I very much like the idea of 
hemp paper.  if you could get me a copy of the price list it would be 
appreciated.  you said they wouldn't copy it cuz it was too thin... 
did you try doing it yourself.  if not, go to kinko's and put it in 
the self serve machines.  just put it where the regular 8 1/2 by 14 
slot(or whatever size you have) and try it out.  or if it doesn't 
work like they said, try feeding it one sheet at a time.  i would 
be very surprised if that fails.  if you're worried about quality 
just find a kinko's with canon self serve copiers that is what my 
entire zine was done on and i think it looks ok plus there's a 1101 
ways to scam from kinko's.  anyways on the article about the 
abolition of drug laws i agree with you to a point but i feel your 
article falls short and is misdirected.  whether legal or not, drugs 
are still going to rake in cash for their gov't.  drugs legalized will 
just bring along with them federal and state taxes which i 
guarantee are not going to back into anything useful.  i guess i 
feel that fighting for the legalization of drugs is a mute point.  i'd 
rather concern myself with the abolition of drug use completely, 
for whether drugs are legal or not you are going to be supporting 
this system that supposedly so many of us despise.  and i feel this 
should encompass legal addictions such as tobacco and alcohol as 
well.  i also don't feel that making drugs legal with certain 
stipulations is the answer either.  the you are taking one set of 
guidelines and replacing it with another.  new laws or old laws 
with new stipulations are not going to solve this problem.  next.  
again, i agree with you to a point.  yes the american penal system 
is fucked.  but do you really feel that the "criminals" are the 
one's who need to be reformed?  as a criminal, a very active one 
at that, i must say that in the majority of cases the criminals are 
the last thing that need to be reformed.  next.  the centerfold 
sucked.  by the way i'm gonna take this space and say that my views 
on your zine might seem sorta harsh but i'm just being honest.  i 
feel that's the only way people are gonna learn.  i personally 
might not like it when someone says something in my zine sucks, but 
i am happy to get that kind of feedback rather than have someone 
bullshit me because they are afraid they are gonna hurt my feelings.  
so if i seem harsh that's not my goal, i'm just being honest cuz i 
feel you deserve it.  anyway's... i was rather insulted by the anti-
gun piece.  it did not seem well thought out, rational, and barely 
coherent for that matter.  i felt as if i were six years old again 
and in a fight with a friend of mine at the playground.  the only 
response you are going to get by telling someone to 'leave you 
alone' and to 'stop talking to you' is exactly the opposite of what 
you probably would encourage.  yelling at people doesn't work, 
hasn't this been problem through the abortion issue?  i would 
comment on how i feel about the gun issue, but it is not wanted.  
well there are a few more things i would like to touch upon but 
time and sleeplessness are creeping up on me.  i thank you for your 
time and your zine i do look forward to another.  i know this might 
have seemed like one giant complaint, but please believe me when i 
say i mean all of this in the most positive of ways.  your ideas 
have a lot of potential for growth and i hope you can use my 
thoughts to encourage rather than discourage that.  a response 
would be appreciated.  oh ya.  it's late.  sorry about the typos.  
and i'm gonna be in philly on jan 7th for the show at the cabbage 
collective and at the spoken word show on the 21st.  i don't know 
if you are close to philly, but if you are i look forward to the 
chance of meeting you.

goodnight,

shimme


---


RESPONSE...
Dear Victimized,
In response to the eulogy I would like to say a few words.  I very 
much enjoyed my time in the band, and I miss all of you!  The band 
meant a lot to me too.  I never wanted to see the "demise of 
Victimized."  I spend many of nights here at school watching the 
video of the band, and we were good for our age and lack of strong, 
and fully attended practices.  My challenge to all of us is to be 
able to play together maybe just once or maybe a few times more.  
My reason is because it ended without anything to remember.  I 
really miss you all, I miss the band, because we had potential and 
it's a shame to see it thrown away.  Maybe soon we will all return 
to the basement and hear,
"IT'S CALLED LIFE!"
Love, Jeff
P.S. I'll bring the pretzels and Coke.


---


i am sitting here in a room full of strangers.  i've known most of 
them for almost all of my short life time but, yet they are 
strangers.  they do not know me as i know myself.  they do not see 
the real me.  they pass judgment.  yes, it is true that i do not 
know them as they know themselves but, i am not so bold as to pass 
judgment on them.  i don't know why its seems so uncomfortable 
here, i mean it's nothing new.  i always feel uncomfortable 
everywhere, even at hoe.  it's like i feel like an itchy foot 
inside a leather shoe on a hot summer's day.  i don't know why i've 
always felt this way, it might be because i look at things in a 
different way, far to different to be embraced or even accepted.  
it couldn't be that though, no one's ever gotten close enough to me 
to find out how i look at things.  maybe if they knew me that way 
and shunned me it would be easier to take but this is not the case 
they do not know me in that way.  the they know me is through 
appearances.  through my taste  in music and clothes.  nobody knows 
the real me.  it try and try to make people see that i am 
intelligent and I AM NOT A FREAK!  i've tried before but not any 
longer i don't care anymore people sit and look at me with my 
ramones t-shirt and combat boots and make their judgments, so let 
them, i'm not in it anymore,  they can't bring me down to their 
level of following trends and fitting in at all costs.  i say screw 
them, let them fit in, at least i'll be the one with the clean bill 
of mental health.  as least i'm the one who is secure with myself 
at least i'm the one who knows who my true friends are.
- maggie pie (of PURITAN'S GUILT)
---


[News item from Time Magazine]
BEATING BARNEY
He loved them; they didn't love him.  Barney, the adorable-to some
people- purple dinosaur, found himself in dire straits last week at 
the reopening of a K-mart in Galveston, TX, where the ever affable 
T. rex (or, rather, a performer dressed in a Barney suit) was 
assaulted and punched by four boys, ages 10 to 15.  "The 13-year-
old tried to take off his head," says a police officer.  At the 
station house, phone lines were hammed with calls from frantic 
fans.  "Kids were taking it hard," says the officer.  "I had to 
tell them this was not the real Barney."  A judge fined the 
attackers $200 each and gave them until the age of 17 to pay up.  
Better still, he should have made them listen to the _Barney_ song 
until then.
---


SNOWED IN
Walls of crystalline purity push on these structures.  Oppress 
the earth and bind her labors.  Suffocating pressure.  They 
contain me.  On other days, these walls offer comfort.  They 
are my prison.  School would be deliverance.  You rob me.  I 
spite you.  Someday, these days will be a memory.  They will 
melt away.
----


HONEST ABE AND OTHER FOLK TALES
Traveling within the PC circles that are my home, I find 
amazing the number of people who have yet to realize 
Abraham Lincoln's true role in slavery and civil warring.  All of 
the intelligent sheep in my classes cannot accept that he 
couldn't give a shit about slavery.  They can't even imagine 
that the North was the "bad guy".  No, no, no.  All he ever 
wanted to do in life was free the slaves!  The South was just a 
bunch of slave-owning bastards!  Why were we taught these 
lies?


Let's run through a little Civil War refresher course.  The 
South seceded from the Union.  Did they have the right to do 
that?  Well, in a democracy, don't the people have the right to 
choose what is right for themselves?  The South having 
peaceably seceded from the Union, was then attacked by the 
North.  Did the North have the right to do that?  Well, if you 
believe that saving an arbitrary Union is more important than 
saving soldiers' lives, yes.  Unfortunately, for those of us who 
favor a rosy view of the nation's past, this makes the North 
the aggressor.  The North invaded the South.  We usually 
consider the aggressor the "bad guy".  That's the way it was 
when Iraq invaded Kuwait, when the USSR invaded 
Afghanistan, when North Korea invaded South Korea and so 
on throughout history.  (Don't think for a minute that I agree 
with all of these comparisons.  Let's just take the party line on 
this one.)  The South then defended itself, as an autonomous 
entity, and thusly reserved themselves the role of despised for 
posterity.


"But, the North wanted to free the slaves.  That's why they 
invaded."  That's a lie.


It came from the bastard's lips.  "My intention is merely to 
preserve the Union and neither retain nor destroy slavery." 
(That is completely paraphrased)  Why the Emancipation 
Proclamation?  Politics, people.  The South was receiving aid 
from France, whose national policy was against slavery.  By 
making slavery an issue in the war, the North denied it's 
opponent a major supplier.  Taadaa.


Lincoln was a remarkable man in some respects, but let's not 
lose sight of this, now.  In his day, he was considered 
clownish and awkward.  People did not take him seriously.  
He was a Gerald Ford for crissake.  Sometimes hindsight isn't 
20/20.
----


I try to write journal style, but it's not me.  It's so pretentious.  
I'm not Thoreau.
----


RACIST OPERA
Isn't listening to Wagner the same as listening to Skrew-
driver?   For those of you who are completely out of touch 
with classical music and/or history(herstory?), Wagner is this 
way famous composer, who lived in the late 19th century.  He 
wrote "Ride of the Valkyries" and other haunting tunes.  The 
problem is he was an infamous racist.  He wrote fliers and 
leaflets espousing racial purity and firmly believed in 
Germanic ideas(these included the theory that people could 
be categorized and "rated" based upon the shape of their 
nose).


The question that I'm begging here is this:  can historical 
figures be excused their ignorance?  Many of our "founding 
fathers" were slave-owners.  Does this make them any less 
great?  Almost every American president until Kennedy was a 
racist.  Does this make their legacies any less great(those that 
have great legacies)?   Can we measure the attitudes of past 
figures based upon our current moral standards?


If Wagner lived in America today and publicly held the same 
Germanic-superiority views he had then, he would be 
despised, just as Skrewdriver is within PC and anti-racist 
circles.  So, is listening to Wagner the same as listening to 
Skrewdriver?  I'd really like to know.


ADDENDUM:
I am now reading Huckleberry Finn in my English class.  I 
really enjoy the book, but I am bothered by the instance of the 
word "nigger".  This was a word people used.  This was they 
way people thought.  Should our teenagers be exposed to it?  
If you take it from a historical perspective, it's easy to deal 
with.  If I was black I might feel differently.
----


MORE ON RACISM
I am sick of the middle class, white reaction to the Nation of 
Islam.  I am sick of hearing ignorant people launching into 
tirades about anti-Semitism and black racism.  Some of the 
criticism leveled against them is perfectly valid, but I will 
explain to you why none of this matters...


The Nation of Islam has one primary goal: to empower the 
black community.  When the Nation was established, there 
was no such thing as a rich black man.  Within the ghettoes, 
poor blacks looked around them and they saw poverty created 
by the white man's power over them.  They saw Jewish store 
owners and landlords who sucked every hard earned dollar 
away from them.  They saw a civil rights movement that did 
little more than get several thousand brothers beaten and 
killed.


Then the Nation of Islam came along and said, "Don't let the 
white man manipulate you.  Don't be the white man's slave.  
Be your own man.  Be a black man."  The Nation worked hard 
to improve the black family and the black community.  Its 
member's were forbidden to use alcohol or drugs and were 
expected to have close-knit families.  The Nation set up black-
owned businesses and black-run newspapers.  It encouraged 
blacks to be their own people and not rely on whites for 
empowerment.


Now we run into a problem.  The Nation of Islam was not and 
is not content with improving their lot in life.  They want 
everyone to know why they have that lot in the first place.  
They well-deservedly placed the blame on whites.  They also, 
and perhaps not so well-deservedly, blame Jews.


I cannot, and will not, say if Jews have any present-day role in 
oppressing blacks.  I am not black and I am not a Jew.  I can 
and will, however, take exception to the remarkable sensitivity 
our country has towards anti-Semitism.  Any criticism of 
Jews, Israel or Barbra Streisand is immediately interpreted as 
vile, Jew-hating propaganda.  Bullshit.


So, excuse my divergence from the PC party line, and allow 
me to say that any anti-Semitism on the part of the Nation of 
Islam is almost entirely excused by their work on behalf of the 
black people.  The Nation has never, to my knowledge, 
advocated violence against Jews.  They have never, to my 
knowledge, endorsed any kind of Holocaust genocide towards 
any group.


Beyond that, I have to say that I do not endorse the Nation of 
Islam in any way.  Many of their beliefs(or what I know of 
them) are ignorant.  If you are interested in the religion of 
Islam, you would be much better served to study orthodox 
Islam.
----


I was wrong.  Girls don't masturbate.  Women do.
----


I am annoying.  Imagine this didacticism translated into 
humor and drilled into your ear involuntarily for forty-five 
minutes or more.  I am beautiful.
----


OPENING A CAN OF WORMS
or Abortion: My Two Cents


There is so much ignorance and intolerance on both sides, 
but here's the bottom line--we don't know.  We don't know.  
We can't know.  We never will know.  I, personally, don't want 
to know.


I am certain that sometime before birth, a fetus becomes 
human.  But when?  0 seconds, 1 month, 3 months, 6 
months?  We don't know.  Where does it begin?  I am also 
certain that it is wrong to kill something(or someone), that is 
alive.  So, my reaction, as always, is to hedge my bets.  Play 
it on the safe side.  I personally don't believe in abortion.  I 
don't think I would want my girlfriend to have an abortion.


As a man, it is not my choice.  No matter what possibility of 
that life in there, does that life over-rule a mother who must 
carry it for nine months, give painful birth to it, when she 
doesn't want it and can't provide for it?  If that's the case, you 
do the fetus a favor.


I am not willing to make any blanket statements.  I am not a 
woman.  I will never have an abortion.  It's not my problem.  
To fanatics on both sides:  ease up.  Can't you respect the 
other's point.  Pro-lifers:  Can't you see that there are some 
things more important than latent life?  Pro-choicers:  Can't 
you admit that there is some possibility that abortion is 
wrong?


All I am asking for is tolerance.
----


HOW TO SELL-OUT
(And Still Be Punk)
1.  Sign to a major.  Tell all your old friends from the indie 
scene to fuck off.  Screw over your old record company.
2.  Write an album full of material that sounds like a cross 
between Man Is the Bastard and AM radio fuzz.
3.  Take your $500,000 advance and spend $300 of it on 
recording your major label debut!!!  Spend the other $499,700 
on equipment, vans, cars, homes, drugs, hair dye, etc.
4.  (This is important.)  REFUSE TO MAKE A VIDEO.  Do not 
pose for publicity photos.  Do not go on tour.  Do not do 
interviews.
5.  Lose your corporate label a whole shit-load of money.
6.  Tell them to fuck off and live off the advance for a few 
years(if you haven't spent it all on drugs).
7.  Revel in the glory of punkness.
----


WHY I HATE HOMOS
I fucking hate homos.  When I sit in class and some ignorant 
asshole in the back is talking about "those fucking niggers" or 
some macho slob is talking about girls like they're pieces of 
meat, everyone knows he's an asshole.  When some 
homophobic meathead starts talking about the sanctity of his 
asshole, I am alone.  No one will back me up, because if you 
don't think queers are disgusting, you MUST BE ONE OF 
THEM FUCKING QUEERS!  Wouldn't want anyone to think 
that.  "I don't fuck guys.  Hell no.  Ain't one o'them faggots."  
Can't you just sit back and realize the ignorance you 
perpetuate?  Your silence is acceptance.


I don't mind being alone in my arguments, it's the frequency.  
Can a day go by without some asshole starting shit with me?  
Can one period pass without my sexuality being attacked by 
mindless morons?


That's why I hate all of you fucking homos.  You make me 
fight for you.  You make me scream for you.  You make me 
be an outsider for you.  And what do I get in return?  
Outstanding sex with a beautiful boy?  Cheers and hurrahs 
from passing gays in the street?  I don't get shit.  Ungrateful 
bastards.


(Please do not get up-in-arms about this.  It is not intended 
seriously.  I am very obviously anti-
homophobic(homophiliac?).  It is just a cute little musing.  
Laugh.  It'll make you feel good.)
----


ASSAULT MY SEXUALITY
Seriously, homophobia is a topic that cannot be discussed in 
my high school.  It is tolerated to an extreme.  It is perfectly 
acceptable for teachers to make jokes about gays, call their 
kids gay, make ignorant comments about homosexuality and 
project their sexual mores onto us.  It is not discussed.  If 
homosexuality is brought up outside of a controlled sexual 
education environment, it is in almost certainly in a negative 
light.  I wrote a letter to my school paper about this problem.  
It did not get printed.  In it's place was a letter about club 
fund-raisers.  Shows you where our priorities are.


Every day in the classroom, my sexuality is assaulted.  
Whether it be from a need to fit in or from simple-minded 
ignorance, most of the people I see every day fall for this 
homophobic propoganda.  What makes me the most angry 
about all of this is that any number of people in this school 
may be homosexual.  If I am offended by this environment, 
they must feel oppressed.


Forty years ago, it was acceptable for a teacher to call a black 
child "nigger".  That was the way it was.  Hopefully, in forty 
years, my grandchildren, will find it hard to believe that when I 
was a child, teachers used the word "faggot" and made 
presuppositions about their sexuality.  Someday.
----


PUNK ROCK HOMEWORK #1
This is one in a series of punk rock homework assignments.  
The assignment was to write a thank you note to your teacher.


Thank you teacher...
	for stifling my individuality.
	for showing me there's only one way to think.
	for making me one of the herd.
	for depriving me of the most fundamental sense of 	
		self.
	for attacking my sexuality.
	for forcing me into your slavery.
	for making my differences vice.
	for allowing them to laugh at me.
	for treating me like an amusing toy.
	for destroying my pride.
thank you teacher.
thanks for nothing.
----


The United States government has continually sent our "dept. 
of defense" to attack many nations in those fifty years; seems 
much more like offense to me.
BRYAN ALFT(Contrascience)
----


Sundays are a sort of pinnacle for me.  all day a feeling of 
unease and manic boredom lay over me like an overbearing 
father.  at night, i can not rest, for everything makes sense to 
me.  images fall together and overlap.  i make a connection 
between everything.  realization scares me more than 
anything as i lay w/ my eyes pressed against to darkness.  
nothing is more lonely than a Sunday.  Monday a.m. sucks 
too.  a "hangover" from the night before.
SEAN
----


PUNK ROCK HOMEWORK #2:
Describe a comic strip


Come on, it's Dilbert.


Irony of hi-tech equip + lo-tech minds.  The triviality of cutting 
edge jargon spouted by techno-geeks w/pocket protectors.  
Self-conscious repressed virtual reality sexuality engineers.  
Double talk around the work.  Stupid Elbonians.  Ratbert's 
gonna' fly some day.  Some day.
----


PUNK ROCK HOMEWORK #3:
Humorous story


I walked into the wall and (ouch!) banged my head again.  
bangbangbang.  Don't look at me!


Oh no   I'm bleeding.  I can't see outside my afro, my universe 
- only in.  Deepdeepdeep.  Don't stare at me!


What is the meaning of life?  Why does love fade away?


Why does it matter?  All I can do is search within my sole.  
Loose-fitting shoes are not all the rage.  Baggy just won't work 
at all.


Everything is red.  Only I am blue.


YOU JUST DON'T GET IT
----


My friend died.  I am sitting here and I'm made to feel like a 
stone.  I am sorry, but my friend is dead.  The hours I have 
spent staring at my wall, silently crying were not ill spent.  I 
have found my peace.  Do not make me feel like a brick.


Everybody wants to talk.  I cannot talk.  It does me little good.  
We may talk until our throats bleed and he will still be dead.


He would have known I would write this.  He wouldn't have 
understood why.  He never did.  That was not his problem.  I 
miss his understanding.  I miss his smile.  He'll never again 
tell me about the new P.M. Dawn disc.  He'll never try to 
explain reincarnation to me.  He is dead.


Goodbye Naveen.
----


I bleed into your reservoir, considering the change in emotions 
over these last few months.  Tears dry up, leaving hints of 
trails glistening.  I feel a crushing nothing in my chest.  
Anxiety bursting from my arteries into your fresh-water well--
salinated by my very existence.  Now I fall through a thousand 
seconds of shrieking and still bleeding.  Hit bottom from top, 
up.  I grow accustomed to the dark, damp loneliness staring 
at the faraway beacon of another world.  I spend my days in 
substantial nothingness--never once considered boring.  I 
spend my days without you.  In this world...without you.
----


PUNK ROCK HOMEWORK #4:
Free-Written Autobiography


My name is Chris and I was born under a star.  
twinkletwinkletwinkle   it shines on my eyes like a cigarette 
lighter.  Zippo w/o the Z only with more pizzazz more umph! 
there it is indeed.  back then everybody wore Nikes it was a 
common thing thinking about the end of the world.  
apocalypse.  killing for food.  eating chewing spitting natural 
substances unnatural lives kicking out the walls from 
underneath me falling down scraping my knee lots of ings 
what do you call it?  sitting w/a baby in her lap is all I've ever 
done sitting staring adjective for perhaps.  cramp develops 
first in the outer\inner muscles of hands + expands to lower 
fore-arm radiating w/the ulna!  cut slice gash root beer bagel 
kill it with one quick blow.  destroy it.  sometimes I wonder 
about how quickly time fades fast.  I am not five minutes late 
you fat bastard, get your nose out of the slipstream.  Things 
like this work very simply.  I am not talking about you. Why do 
you always think I'm talking about sex?  that's not where it 
comes from.  it comes from here (pointing long slender finger 
to left nipple, then right).


radiation burns on my hips, lips sources of power not as 
potent as fusion but ample to disintegrate an entire 
metropolitan suburb.  I am not a vassal


a sect


indentured to you or anyone.


I've never killed a man (though I've thought about it more 
often than you'd think)  stop looking over but you're not are 
you just taking a peak at you notes for "stream of conscious"  
Seems oxymoronic to me, fuckhole.  What I am thinking 
about hurts to touch.  Boring.  tweettweettweet.  Spring has 
sprung.  Hard to believe two days ago this was torture, but it 
turns into things no-one understands purposeful lying in 
issues of soul.  Deception in cloak of absolute honesty.  Mary 
is crying about what?  She's dead a hundred zillion billion 
years.  Jesus was no king of mine.  Taxes have been levied 
on freedom.  Take 90% right off the top.  You think you're 
above the law?  I can kill you as if you were never here never 
heard of make a difference yeah right spitting out of my head 
stood at the precipice and fell + gillius pile of nothing why are 
you looking at my paper egocentric game perhaps?  too many 
I I Is and me me mes?  it doesn't matter my world ends at my 
fingertips doesn't extend beyond my overgrown toenails.  
Don't make me fucking kill you you son of a bitch.  Too much 
death imagery too much killing hurting burning too may 
fucking participles is that what lies untapped in my 
consciousness?  Is this what I have to look forward to?  
endless hours of past present future participial verbiage on 
morbid topics race relation do not improve outside of the 
arctic climes  when you think of winning - does that excite 
you?  Does that make you want to fuck?  the sad part is you 
don't use steroids.  Wasting hours days weeks punishing 
some ergonomically designed machine for your inferiority.  
Hard bodies limp dicks.  It has been at least fifteen if not 
twenty minutes.  perhaps I push too hard.  perhaps, participle, 
death - my subconscious.  go to fucking hell.  the hand gets 
tighter + tighter as we speak.  can this go in FN does anyone 
want to read this shit?  Mrs. Walker might be proud or 
perhaps somewhat disappointed.  Don't write me I'll write you  
90-95% morons in this world if not 98%.  Indians are nice.  I 
am done.
----


[News item from The Times of Trenton]
SCHOOL SMOKING POLICIES A BURNING ISSUE
by Deborah Kovach Caldwell(Staff Writer)

PENNINGTON--On the last day of school, Kristin Silady and Rachel 
Maski had wandered from Hopewell Valley High School over to Main 
Street, where they were hanging around, waiting for a ride home.

The girls, who had just completed 10th grade, reflected on Hopewell 
Valley's 3-month-old smoking policy that sends students caught 
smoking two times on school property before a municipal judge, who 
slaps them with a fine.

"I think youth culture is smoking," said Silady, 15, who said she 
doesn't smoke but has friends who do.  "We're both into the 
subculture idea, the Seattle scene."

Often, that means wearing dark plaid shirts, listening to grunge 
rock--and smoking.  Silady, who wore a tie-dyed shirt and wide, 
buckled Birkenstock sandals, looked for encouragement to Maski, 16, 
who had a smiley face sticker pasted on her forehead.  To Silady 
and Maski, the new policy is another example of adult overreaction...
----


I just got back from a 3-day Youth and Government 
Conference.  Basically, it was a model New Jersey 
Legislature.  Each group came with it's own bill and we went 
through the actual process of committee, subcommittee, floor 
debate.  It was not what I would call fun, but it was interesting.  
Bills introduced covered everything from a constitutional 
amendment to protect the rights of homosexuals(which was 
passed and will be a referendum on next year's ballots) to a 
bill that would mandate the death penalty for any second 
offenders of a violent crime(which was, thankfully, defeated).


And there, I find the problem with this conference.  These kids 
were insane.  They had convinced themselves that this 
legislation was real(it was not, except for the previously 
mentioned homosexuality amendment, which became a 
referendum).  They thought that its passage was important.  
They kissed ass, lobbied and degraded themselves for votes.  
My girlfriend says it was all in the spirit of competition, but I 
think these people were insane.  My bill, which would have 
eliminated tenure for teachers, was voted out quickly.  Though 
I was a little let down, I didn't care.  Sample conversation 
overheard on bus:  "It is vitally important that you override the 
Governor's veto."  What is vitally important about it?  It 
doesn't accomplish shit other than make you feel good about 
yourself.


To say the least, these people were geeks, but I think this 
says something about our population.  They were so worried 
about getting their pretend bills passed, but do they even take 
one second and think about real legislation and real grass-
roots change?  My friend Sean is fond of saying that religion 
was invented so people would worry more about the meaning 
and nuance of the Adam and Eve story than their shitty living 
conditions.  I think this applies in a much broader sense.  
People, we need to keep our eyes on the prize.  Don't let our 
interests be diverted by foolishness.  Think real problems and 
real answers.  Go out and change the real world.


Good luck.
----


In the past, I have held a very radical anti-gun stance.  Now, I 
find myself questioning the wisdom of gun bans.  I do not 
believe that a gun should ever be shot at anything.  I do not 
buy into the us or them philosophy.  I do not think any 
homeowner should be taking pot-shots at burglars.  I do not 
believe in the old saw "if you outlaw guns, only outlaws have 
guns" (at least, it doesn't frighten me).  I do believe in and I 
am frightened by this new saw though -- "if you outlaw guns, 
only the government has guns."  I do not believe in armed 
revolution.  I do, however, hold a high concern for the welfare 
of a people dictated by an authoritarian government without 
the right to firearms.  When they come for me, I'll go 
peacefully, but I do not think I have the right to tell everyone 
else to go peacefully as well.  oh well.


this does not change my feelings towards guns.  the only 
thing a gun can do is kill (unless you use it as a hat stand) 
and that is abhorrent.  Get another hobby, hunters and 
marksmen.  Make models or something.
----


VEGETARIAN NIGHTMARES
I had a dream last night that I was at a restaurant with my 
family and my order got mixed up and they brought me some 
kind of chicken parmesan dish and instead of sending it back 
right away i started eating it.  I can't say it tasted good, but it 
didn't taste bad like most radical veggies would have you 
believe, it just tasted like meat, which is a strange taste when 
your not used to it.  I just kept on eating it and I was thinking 
"what the fuck are you doing?  don't you have any self-
control?  this is MEAT."  but I didn't care and just kept eating 
until my mother complained to the waitress and got my food 
taken back and I ended up eating about half of it.  Maybe I 
had that dream because last night, at dinner, my brother was 
sprinkling bacon bits on his salad, but the package wasn't 
marked bacon bits so I said, "what's that?" and my mom said, 
really quick, "oh, you can't have that" and I was like "OK, i 
don't want it but I can have any damn thing I please", y'know?
----


ZINE TRADE FOLLIES
Every month, I sit down with the new MRR and find zines that 
I'd like to read in the review section.  Then I send off a copy of 
Fat Nipples and ask them if they want to trade.  If the review 
doesn't specifically say that they trade, i send along a note 
saying "if you don't want to trade, please write me and I'll send 
you the money, OK?" or something similar.  Well, I don't think 
about it much, because when I get a zine in my P.O. Box I'm 
just happy to have it and run home and read it, but I just 
looked over the list of zines I've sent away to, and I'd say that 
over the last six months less than half of those zines have 
even responded.  I've gotten precisely 2 letters saying, "I'm 
sorry, but I'd really rather you pay."  What the hell?  Are you 
zine editors too good?  When I get mail I praise the lord and 
respond immediately.  I guess I have some growing up to do, 
huh?
----


Can you try to imagine the stores of information a medical 
specialist, like a gynecologist, or a cardiologist, or a 
gastroenterologist, has on one particular thing?  What would it 
be like to know everything there is to know about the human 
stomach?  The weird thing is, most of these people really 
don't have any care for that part.  They don't have any 
passion for that organ.  These people go into specialty fields 
merely so they can make more money.  How can you devote 
your entire life to the study of stomachs without having a 
deep, pathological connection to them?


That's the problem with our world today.  We are much too 
pragmatic in our choice of career.  What field has jobs?  What 
career pays well?  Who cares?  You are devoting your whole 
life to making money?  That's not the way.  If your going to 
make a lifetime commitment, you should have a profoundly 
spiritual connection to your work.  You have to love it.  There 
has to be a fulfillment within it.  Even when you are working 
sixty hour weeks you should be consumed with absolute 
infatuation with your work.  That's the way it should be.  Every 
stupid motherfucker doing what they love and loving what they 
do.  It's so beautiful.
----


BLUEBERRY SATIN
I love blueberry filling.  It's just so...so...perfect.  You cannot 
screw up blueberry filling.  Apples can get sour and cherries 
suck, but blueberries just work.  Put them in a pie, cake, 
muffins, turnovers, danish, bagels, on and on.  There is not 
one true blueberry treat that let's down (the qualifier "true" 
being necessary for the wise-ass who writes in about Boo-
berry Pebbles or some shit.)


Imagine the glorious day when the blueberry army finally 
takes over the world, crushing the apples and cinnamon, 
lemon, cherry, coconut, meringue wannabes.  Fuck that shit 
up!


I love blueberry filling
----


LITERARY SNIPPETS AND UNFINISHED BUSINESS


"Sometimes is just not enough,"  is what he said to me.  The 
words screamed in my head.  They sounded wounded like a 
deer..........


"Italy in autumn, my dear."  My dear was always how he 
referred to her when in the presence of "company".  Company 
usually included Salvador Lintini.  She had known Salvador 
since college.  What she always referred to as college was a 
brief two month stay at her home town's community college.  
Salvador had dropped out three weeks before.


It wasn't always this way.  William knew that distinctly.  He 
could vividly remember large, generous meals and new, clean 
clothes.  It hadn't always been so hard.  His mother hadn't 
always looked how she looked now.  Her once smooth skin 
now hung loosely from her thin limbs and face.  Her 
astonishing blue eyes were gray and sunken.  Her legendary 
pride had been broken many times over and was now only a 
distant memory-- a shattered mirror of the past, ground to 
dust in the cold reality of the present--recalled only by old 
friends and relatives.  Loss.


The crying had grown more frequent as the weeks passed by 
with no response.  The once salty tears had dried up.


"You can smell it in the air if you try.  I swear you can."
	

It was just an old legend.


Life is something that Sherry never hesitated to live.  If you 
knew her like I do, you would wholeheartedly agree, but lately, 
her parents had been getting worried.  They feared that she 
was becoming suicidal.  This served as more proof to Sherry 
that her parents would never understand her.  Frankie had 
been dead almost a year now.

	
In the old days, they used to call it courage, but these days, 
they just chop your balls off and leave you to cry.  They don't 
believe in real men any more.  I'll kill any "man" that tries to 
tell me he has what it takes.  I know what it takes and they 
don't have it.  None of them do.  And how could they?
You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?  Let me fill 
you in...
----


I never really believed in the Easter Bunny.  I don't think most 
kids did.  Let's face it, Easter is a lame holiday.  It's much too 
overtly religious.  At Christmas, it's very easy to forget all that 
shit about Jesus being born and people just get drunk and 
give each other presents.  You pretty much can't get away 
from the fact that Easter is about Jesus.  One lame little 
bunny that brings shitty candy (nothing cool like Santa) can't 
change that.  To tell you the truth, I feel bad for the little 
bastard.  The tooth fairy gets more respect than that guy.
----


ARMAGEDDON'S COMING
Right now, I am so terrified of Armageddon.  I saw this show 
on Sunday call "Ancient Prophecies".  It said that 
Nostradomus predicted two-thirds of the worlds population 
would be killed sometime around May of 1999.  It was implied 
that the cause would be nuclear holocaust.


I am so fucking scared for this world.  This scenario is so 
possible, with nuclear proliferation and the United States's 
continuing imperialist stance.  All it would take is some tough-
guy president (Bob Dole?) making one wrong move and, 
bang, North Korea blows up New York.  What would the U.S. 
military do in this situation?  Would they let a single, isolated 
nuclear attack escalate into full-scale world-wide 
thermonuclear war?  Is it possible for the military to intercept 
transcontinental missiles?


In 1999, I will be 20.  I will be a fourth-year college student, 
scrambling for something to do with my life when college 
ends.  My mind will be filled with possibilities for the future.  
Will a nuclear holocaust steal away those possibilities?  Why 
mine?  Through thousands of years of civilization, why is my 
generation the one that gets stuck with world-wide 
extermination?  It could have happened any time in the last 
fifty years.  Why me?  Why us?


There are only two comforting thoughts within this.  First, I do 
not really believe in mysticism and prophecy and maybe this 
is all just a load of crap.  Second, perhaps awareness of this 
prophecy will prevent its fulfillment.  To my knowledge, 
Nostradamus has always been proven in hindsight.  By this, I 
mean that scholars looked at his prophecies and attached 
their meaning to historical events years after the fact.  Have 
Nostradamus's prophecies ever been common knowledge as 
predictions?


I remember seeing a program on Nostradamus years ago, 
with either Raymond Burr or Orson Welles--some fat old guy.  
The fat old guy said that Nostradamus emphasized the ability 
of man to alter the future.  Also, he said that Nostradamus 
predicted that when Halley's comet passed by in the 80's, it 
would come too close and hurtle mankind into cannibalism.  
That scared the shit out of me when I heard it.  But it didn't 
happen.  Will the same thing happen with this?  I hope so.
----


OLD WOMAN SMOKING A CIGARETTE
Long, thin and delicate, held precariously at the end by the 
limp grasp of third and fourth knuckle, first and second finger.  
Lean with neck forward, pucker out and inhale.  Dentures 
retreat inward slightly and cheeks concave with desperation.  
Sucking, almost gasping.  Hold it in and release.  I'm so 
fucking glamorous.
----


Winter is over.  Finally.  The cold is gone, replaced by 
lukewarm and chilly spring days.  Monotonous white existence 
wiped into a thousand color parade, green dominant.  Atoms 
crackle with energy and life.  Birds sing songs about love.   
I'm desperate to reach out and be a part of this again.
----


KURT COBAIN, DEITY
Kurt Cobain is dead and that is a tragedy.  It is not the end of 
the world.  My life will be just the same before and after, but I 
refuse to be a generic asshole punk and laud his passing.  
There are a lot of people who mourn for him and they deserve 
respect.  The least I can do is think of the good things he did, 
as well as the bad.


Nirvana sold out, but they were punk once.  Obviously they 
didn't sign with Geffen because they wanted to be rock stars.  
A little more money, maybe, or respect.  I bought their first 
major label album, Nevermind.  I really liked it for a while, but 
its the kind of album you get sick of (i.e. Dagnasty, Bad 
Religion).  By the time their next album came out I had written 
them off as jock fodder.  Apparently, so had Kurt.


He was a fucking asshole.  He had a wife and a beautiful 
baby.  I guess he thought his child would be better off with a 
dead father than with a dysfunctional one.  I hope you're a 
little happier, Kurt, lying stone cold in your grave.  You were 
the ultimate icon of the supposed "slacker generation".  You 
couldn't give a shit about this life one way or the other, could 
you?


If, in twenty years, Oliver Stone produces a movie called 
Nirvana and there is a huge Nirvana resurgence and Kurt 
Cobain is worshipped unto a god, I will have to dig up his 
grave and kill him three or four more times.
----


My work has become diffuse, dissatisfying, like a meal with no 
main course.  I can no longer form opinions.  I used to have 
opinions--strong ones.  I had answers.  Now, I do not.  I 
cannot find the answers.  I doubt they even exist.  Everything 
has become so polarized.  Everyone has an opinion and an 
absolute conviction that it is correct.  Opinions are the 
ultimate discrimination.  Denying an idea the right to be.  
Dismissing it for its bad points, ignoring its good.  One of the 
qualities essential to our survival is seeing both sides.  
Simple-minded partisonism breeds reactionary thinking.  
Trouble brews, people die.  Empathy.
----


This is one thing that will never die.
----


I have this dream of a little punk rock high school.  There 
would be no school spirit.  The cheerleader's would spit beer 
and yell "Fuck you!" at the crowd, massed together not to root 
for sports teams that don't exist.  There would be a punk rock 
marching band, with all the usual marching band instruments, 
but no music, just screeches and whelps and farts from the 
tuba.  Everybody would hate everybody and there would be 
graffiti all over the place and it would just be awesome.
----


That was all meant in jest, but punk rock might as well be a 
high school with all the cliques and elitism and other bullshit 
that goes on.  It's a fucking joke.
----


I'm a little concerned about the fact that I have written only 
fifteen pages in three months.  This zine might be done in 
June.  Is any of this crap worth reading anyway?
-----


Is it punk to go to proms?  I don't like the things.  It's a dress-
up night and it seems like only the girls can really get into it.  
What is the point of getting into a tux and spending mucho 
dinero for the privilege of wanting to kill everybody in the 
place?  Shitty food, shitty music, lame-ass dancers who laugh 
at those who actually express themselves, fucking 
hatehatehate.
----


In Hamilton, we practice white trash as an art form.
----


Between Lois Lane, Wynona, Meg Ryan and Sara Gilbert, I've 
got my hands full.
----


My girlfriend thinks that everyone can control everything they 
do.  I disagree.  I give people a lot of credit for losing control 
of their actions.
----


The people who invented yoga went through a lot of trouble to 
prostrate themselves.  They do a half-twist, triple-linding, 
somersault then a cartwheel, bend their leg back over their 
head and land on the ground face down begging for God's 
forgiveness.
----


I have heard this so many times so let me go over it for you, 
so you don't make the same mistake.  It is perfectly obvious 
that if we all acted the same and all believed the same things, 
there would not be wars.  This is not an insight.  So, do not 
lecture me on how if we'd all just realize that you're right, 
there's be no more hate, no more crime.  I don't want to be 
like you.  I want to hate you.
----


Every single issue of this fucking zine is different.  Hopefully 
they are getting better as I go along..
----


I like Star Trek, but it's a TV show, not a lifestyle.  It's well-
written and interesting.  The characters are compelling and 
the plots are involving.  If I am around when it's on, I watch it.  
I cannot live my life around it.


I've never been one to religiously watch a TV show.  Usually, 
through most of the school year, I don't watch TV at all, then 
as the spring and summer come, I start to watch a few shows 
regularly.  I'm not sure why.  I have less to do, I guess.  Right 
now, the only shows I see almost every week are "Seinfeld" 
and "Lois and Clark".
----


This zine is being born very slowly.  It is a long and painful 
delivery.  I haven't even started to lay it out yet and that's the 
most frustrating part.  Whenever I get in a writing mood, I let it 
pass without writing.  Then I sit down to write with no ideas at 
all.  Is that back asswards or what?  Every time I do this, I 
manage to create a completely new style for myself.  Look:  
The first issue was nothing but long essays, most of them 
about politics.  The second issue was tons of short essays, 
most of them about politics.  The third was short musings, 
none of them about politics.  This one is long musings, very 
few about politics.  Can't I make up my fucking mind?
----


JFK IS DEAD
A little over thirty years ago, Lee Harvey Oswald put a bullet 
into JFK's head, effectively killing him.  Unfortunately, the 
dumb bastard didn't do the job right and so, people still talk 
about the whole thing like it happened yesterday.  Back when 
the movie came out, I was fond of saying, "Who killed JFK?  
You did."  Actually, it was Lee Harvey.


A lot of people cite a lot of evidence saying that it wasn't 
Oswald, that he was just a "patsy".  I've been exposed to a lot 
of this, read a few books, watched Oliver Stone's movie three 
times and come to this conclusion:   There might have been a 
conspiracy, but there needn't be one.  The "lone nut" theory 
can explain pretty much everything that happened.  If there 
was a conspiracy, it would have had to be huge, involving the 
CIA, Secret Service, Pentagon, Dallas Police and numerous 
civilians.  While this is certainly a possibility, I would refer you 
to "Occam's razor", which states that a person should not 
increase, beyond what is necessary, the number of entities 
required to explain anything.  Basically, this means that the 
simplest explanation is usually the most truthful.  While the 
JFK assassination could be explained in terms of a massive 
governmental, pro-/anti-Castro Cuban, organized crime 
conspiracy, it could just as well, and much more simply, be 
explained in terms of one lone idiot.


Here are a couple of facts to tide you over:  Oswald could 
have fired three shots in the assumed time period.  The so-
called "magic bullet" could have done everything that it did 
without any twistings, turnings or severe smashing.  Oswald 
had apparently tried to assassinate a prominent New Orleans 
political figure previously.  Oswald was a nut.  Where the 
shots came from has no real bearing on JFK's head 
movements (neural spasms and reflexes outweigh bullet 
momentum).


Sometimes we allow ourselves to digest evidence about the 
assassination without really questioning its credibility or any 
countering evidence.  You have to think.  Really, the problem 
is that defense of the lone assassin theory has always rested 
on the flawed Warren Commission Report.  The amount of 
intelligent material supporting their conclusions has been lost 
in the deluge of material countering it.  Anyone who turns up a 
new picture of any of the "key" members of the "conspiracy" 
has material for a new book on their hands, with "startling new 
evidence."


Many are into this so that they can prove what awful things 
the government can do.  But at the same time, they are 
lionizing a perfect example of it, John F. Kennedy himself.  He 
escalated the war in Vietnam (despite popular belief, he had 
no intentions of ending that war).  He denied protection to 
southern blacks when they were being attacked, but the 
second they lashed out at whites the National Guard was 
making the scene.  He was a hell of a womanizer and a 
shrewd politician.  He was a politician.  And he got shot for it.
----


WEEKEND BLUES
There's no point in even being alive today.  All of my friends 
are somewhere far away.  The businesses are closed and do 
not want to haggle over zine matters.  My father wants to do 
yard work.  Get me out of this place.
----


[News item from The Times of Trenton]
CHICAGO -- A businessman spent about $20,000 to buy up most of 
executed serial killer John Wayne Gacy's artworks, and he plans to 
get a return on his investment by burning them.  "We want them wiped 
off the map," said Joe Toth, who bought more than two-dozen of the 
40 Gacy works for sale at yesterday's auction.  "It's too bad we 
couldn't have wiped them all off the map."  Auctioneer James Quick 
said he didn't immediately know exactly how many paintings Roth 
bought.  Roth, owner of a truck parts business, said he wants to 
make a point by burning the paintings created by the man convicted 
in 1980 of killing 33 boys and young men during the 1970s.  Gacy was 
executed Tuesday.
[end news item]


This is so fucking sick.  Art cannot be guilty.  Art should not 
be punished.  Gacy killed 33 people.  This bastard is going to 
kill 24 acts of beauty and creativity.  Just because Gacy was a 
killer, that means that his expression cannot exist?  Wasn't life 
in prison and lethal injection his punishment?  Now we have 
to destroy his legacy as well?  I feel no sympathy for Gacy.  
The man was sick.  I feel nothing for him, but his art makes 
me want to cry.
----


GLOWING REVIEWS!!!

[from HeartattaCk #1]
FAT NIPPLES #2 8.5 x 7 $1 44 pgs
The first thing that scared me about _Fat Nipples_ was this quote 
from the letters section, "...though I know Bush was not too hot, I 
personally think Clinton is the worst thing that could have 
happened to us.  I hope Bob Dole..."  From then on I found myself 
becoming more and more annoyed every few pages.  The layout was 
good and all, but the content was not all too impressive, mostly 
politics with a libertarian slant.  First, sexuality is reduced to 
a matter of "who you fuck."  Then, I am hit by a cartoon claiming 
that marginalized groups victimized themselves to create the "right 
to feel so lousy."  I could go on and on.  The only positive fact 
going for this _Fat Nipples_ was being printed on hemp and straw 
paper.  But issue #3 admits that this paper couldn't be used.  AM 
(P.O. Box 2554/Trenton, NJ, 08690)

the passages in question:

even though I know Bush was not too hot, I personally think Clinton 
is the worst thing that could have happened to us.  I hope Bob Dole 
runs.

there's not much going on in the world right now, but there are some 
things i think warrant discussion:
1) homosexuals in the military--if your dumb enough to want to die 
for your country it shouldn't matter who you fuck.  you're really 
fucking yourself.  the "don't ask, don't tell" proposal is a cop-out.  
homosexuals should be allowed the same freedom to speak of their 
orientation as hets.  certainly, there will be the same restrictions 
on sexual behavior as there is on hets, so what's everyone so 
worried about?

my review of the review:

I make no bones when someone gives Fat Nipples a bad 
review.  If people call it boring, immature, not well thought out, 
whatever, I can respect that.  When people slam FN out of 
ignorance I have to take exception.


The first complaint is that I allow a letter writer to support Bob 
Dole.  I also had concerns about that line and it made me 
raise an eyebrow at the sanity of the letter writer.  However, I 
thought the letter was well-written and I cannot be held-
responsible for my reader's thoughts.  Letter writer's opinions 
do not reflect upon mine whatsoever and I do not presume to 
censor anyone's thoughts.


Most people would say that Fat Nipples is impressive for its 
content, but its layout sucks, but this reviewer has it ass 
backwards.


Then, I reduce sexuality to "who you fuck."  My intention with 
that piece was to express support for gays.  I only put sexual 
orientation in terms of "who you fuck" so I could use what I 
thought was a nifty play on words--"It shouldn't matter who 
your fuck, you're really fucking yourself."  I, personally, take a 
minimalist view of sexuality anyway and I don't think that it is 
much more than "who you fuck."  This reviewer should be 
attacking people who would tell her who to fuck.  Would it be 
more appropriate if I said "who you fall in love with"?    


What this reviewer got out of the cartoon mentioned is 
completely opposite from what I intended.  The only reason I 
used that cartoon is because the character said "victimized", 
the name of my band, in every frame.  I think the reviewer 
managed to completely miss the point of the strip.


Finally, the reviewer accuses me of trying to fool my readers 
into thinking that the zine was printed on hemp paper.  She 
neglects to mention that in my explanation in FN #3, I 
explained that I fully intended to use hemp paper right up to 
the day the zine was printed.  Unfortunately, at the copy 
center, I found out the paper company had ripped me off and 
there was no way I could use their paper.  Right then and 
there I bought a few reams of recycled paper to replace it and 
placed an apology on the side of the front page.  I had to write 
it in ballpoint pen, so it came out extremely faint, but it is 
there.  I still haven't gotten my money back from the paper 
company.


Overall, I think this review was simple-minded, reactionary 
and unfair.  Some of the reviewers statements seem to have 
no foundation in reality, and other's assume that the function 
of a zine editor is to be an omniscient, omnipresent and 
restrictive.  My intent in creating Fat Nipples is to offer an 
open forum for opinions.  I will print anything that anyone 
writes to me in response to what I have written.  This reviewer 
needs to get a fucking clue.
----


Despite what I've been taught since birth, it has become 
apparent that men do not have nipples.  The "Webster's New 
Dictionary and Thesaurus, Concise Edition" defines nipples as 
"the small protuberance on a breast or udder through which 
the milk passes."  I do not have breast or udders and I do not 
pass milk, so I suppose that I have no nipples.  Yourself?
----


Do not send me chain letters.  I don't care if they are get rich 
quick schemes or "alternative exchanges", just don't send 
them to me.  They get thrown in the garbage.  Why?  Because 
they don't work.  They can't.  They claim that if I send the 
person at the top of the list a zine or a dollar and put my name 
at the #10 position, then send it to ten people, I will receive 
100 of whatever I sent.  They way I figure it, I should get 10 
billion.  There's not enough people, let alone zines, to fulfill 
that.
----


Hunters are pussies.  I'll respect any man that can kill a deer 
with his bare hands.  He can eat any part of that bastard he 
pleases.
----


I just got back from Disneyland.  It's fun, but I was there to 
perform with my school band, so I got to see a side of Disney 
that few people do.  We went "backstage".  We got to see all 
of the character's with their heads off.  We were told how the 
whole park is a performance.  Everything there is designed to 
make you feel happy and youthful.  Now, that's kind of cool, 
unless you consider the manipulative side of it.  What they 
really want to do is put you into a buying mood.  A child-like 
state were, when faced with an expensive item (as all of 
Disney's items are), you say "fuck it, why not?"  I'll tell you 
why not.  Ten dollars is not a reasonable price for a 
photograph.  Five dollars is not a reasonable price for a salad.  
All of that unreasonable money goes straight into the pocket 
of a corporation.  Disney is a corporation, just like all the other 
corporations I've railed against in these pages, but they don't 
seem as evil as other corporations.  They own suck-dog 
music labels (Hollywood) and they do a lot of things that 
sucky corporations do, but it seems that their heart is in the 
right place in a lot of things.  Could anybody provide proof 
that this is a false premise?
----


It's two o'clock in the morning and I shouldn't be writing.  
That's a lie.  It's eleven thirty and I'm tired.  I have a headache 
and my eyes are starting to dry up on me.  Last Action Hero 
was funny and it made me laugh.  This is wanking and I know 
it.  Literary, self-indulgent wanking.
----


I can't rationalize my enjoyment of Quinten Tarantino's work.  
For those of you who wouldn't know a good movie if it 
smacked you, Quentin is a writer/director who creates 
fascinating, hilarious, engaging, fantastically violent movies.  
His films are full of death, blood, torture and gun-play.  Why 
do I find them so amusing?  Am I one of the mass media's 
desensitized children?  Not really.  I abhor violence.  However, 
there's something about extreme violence in cinema; when it 
defies logic and reality, when its always a no-win situation.  
Maybe that's one reason.  Quinten doesn't really glorify 
violence.  It almost always turns into a no-win situation and 
maybe that's where it rises above other ultra-violent schlock.  
Maybe his films are supposed to demonstrate the futility of 
violence and make us wonder "was it all worth it?"  
Meanwhile, they're just damn good fun.


These should be seen:
Tarantino's films (so far):
"Reservoir Dogs" w/Harvey Keitel
"True Romance" w/Christian Slater
"Natural Born Killers" w/Woody Harrelson + Julliete Lewis 
(directed by Oliver Stone)
----


I suppose I'll be screaming this until the day I die.  The phrase 
is "hardcore punk" and the two words are indistinguishable.  
They describe the same thing.  Unfortunately, it is sometimes 
useful to specifically categorize music and so has arisen a 
dichotomy that establishes streamlined definitions for 
"hardcore" and "punk".  This has produced block-head 
"hardcore" kids who scoff at punk and meat-head punks who 
sneer at "prog-rock hardcore" and on and on.  Goddammit 
people, its all the same.  Hardcore punk is an attitude more 
than it is music.  If you dislike a bands music, at least respect 
their message and support them as part of our scene.  Bands 
that court major label attention are neither hardcore, nor punk 
and should thus be ignored.  Let them be alternative, or metal, 
or whatever the hell they want to be, as long as they don't 
dare call themselves hardcore punk.
----


Summer is here, if only in principle, soon put into practice with 
scorching hot days peppered with flight to cooler environs 
(houses, restaurants, air-conditioned meccas).  The out-of-
doors is intolerable, at least until a certain familiarity is 
achieved.  My head pounds with boiling blood and I think with 
curiosity of the times when I wished for this.  The weather 
system is having catastrophic mood swings and hot flashes.  
All I wish for is fall again.
----


The reason, it seems, that I am unable to enjoy sports is my 
nonpartisan disposition.  Though others will find themselves 
root, root, rooting for the home team by default, I am content 
to see both teams succeed.  I am unable to revel in the glory 
of victory or wallow in the sorrow of defeat.  In the end, 
somebody won and its usually quite a good game.
----


This may be a far-fetched conceit, but I have begun to truly 
believe that society would greatly benefit if the intellectually 
superior had free reign to kill.  The idea was planted in my 
head by the Alfred Hitchcock film, Rope.  If you have the will, 
the strength and the cunning to kill and get away with it, 
perhaps you should not be punished, but commended.  
Anyway, something must be done about stupidity.  It is 
reaching epidemic proportions.
----

I'm not certain whether my memories actually occurred or if I 
saw them on Oprah.  I'm almost positive my transvestite half-
brother abused me, but I don't think my mom likes the way I 
dress.
----


MY FAVORITE RECORDS
(Nov. 93 - July 94)

Born Against - Battle Hymns of the Race War (Vermiform)
Iconoclast - Greatest Hits Vol. I (Ebullition/Old Glory)
Heroin - Paper Bag (Gravity)
Unwound - Fake Train (Kill Rock Stars)
Amenity - Forward into the Past (Vinyl Communications)
Rancid - s/t (Epitaph)
---



This zine represents seven months of my life.  A lot of what I 
have written isn't true anymore.  Some of my opinions have 
changed.  I present this to you as a curioso.  Don't take what I 
say too seriously.  I don't.
---


Goodbye folks.  This was written on July 26, 1994.  I am 
done.  This is it.  Finished.  No more.  Leave!
---


Yesterday is history.  Tomorrow is a mystery.  Today is a gift.  
That is why it's called the present.
(Avis Renta-Car shuttle driver)
----


Thank you very much.
---


This has been Fat Nipples #4 - Electric.  If you want a paper copy, 
send me two stamps.  Feel free to copy this, upload it, put it 
anywhere and everywhere you can.  Just don't change it and don't 
charge for it, OK?  Thanks for sticking around!

Internet: chris@pluto.njcc.com

FN
P.O. Box 2554
Trenton, NJ 08690