134 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
134 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Reverb of the Echoes
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I learned an important lesson today. Its not how experienced you are, its
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not who you know or who knows you. Its how well you kiss ass.
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So, I've been on the school newspaper since the second semester of my
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freshman year, and am now in the first semester of my junior year. I was
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on yearbook in eighth grade and have published three zines (one a month,
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so each is quarterly) since I was in seventh. I have experience up the
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ass, and this was my year to be editor of the school newspaper.
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Now to many of you, this may be nothing. A less then minuscule worthless
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title at one of thousand public high schools. Hardly unique in any way.
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But publishing and writing is what I want to do for a living. And this
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would be the most mainstream thing I've ever been editor of (I *wish* my
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zines had a distribution of 2500 like my school newspaper does).
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So I go to class the first day and realize that I am the only person who
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is not a first year newspaper student. I have two years seniority over all
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of them. I stand in front of the class, not knowing where our advisor was,
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and state, "Hello everyone. My name is Aaron, and I'm your editor."
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I wasn't expecting what I got.
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"Why are you editor?"
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"What gives you the right to be editor?"
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"Why cant I be editor?"
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After 10 students gang up on me with their harsh words, I regretfully agree
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that we will wait until the advisor arrives and let him decide. I say him
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because we have had the same advisor for as long as I have been with the
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paper. He knows me well. I dated his daughter for a short period of time.
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He likes me, and knows I am the right man for the job. Hmm, I sure do seem
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to be contradicting the "not who you know" statement I made above. Feh...
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Anywho, there was a snag. Last year we were censored on several stories,
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and it seems administration was fed up with our advisor. He had been
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replaced. A new advisor....well, she would see my years of experience
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and grant me the title.
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That's not an exact thought. I didn't just want the title. Sure it looks
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good on a college application, and several people jumped to the conclusion
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that was why I wanted it. They were mistaken. I wanted it because I had
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witnessed the work, the dedication that it takes. I witnessed the pride
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in my past editors eyes when the copy came. I had felt that same pride
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with every issue of each of my zines. But mainstream could only feel
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better. I wanted to make the paper better. I had been on long enough to
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witness and learn from others mistakes. I knew what had to be done, and
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no one else on the staff could claim the same.
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The new advisor came. She knew several members of the staff, and suggested
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we have democratic elections to determine the editor. I was pissed.
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I stated my views on the paper to the class and was fairly confident that
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they could make the right choice. I shouldn't have been so damn confidant.
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I lost.I lost because I told them I would make it difficult. I told them
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that I would require them, to write at least one story per issue. That they
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would have to have their stories in on time or fail. I basically told them
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that newspaper wasn't a cake walk. People don't want to hear the truth.
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They want to do nothing and succeed. I lost.
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Then I pulled the real asslike move. My trump card.
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"Hey..." I inquired of my new editor "Who's gonna do the layout? I'm the
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only one who knows the program...?"
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"Well....I thought maybe you could teach me...." she said. She obviously
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thought I would be enthralled to cater to her every whim now that she was
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my editor. Like, not quite.
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I didn't respond. I instead turned and walked out of the room. I returned
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later to speak privately with the advisor.
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"I'm not sure how willing I will be to teach these people the program." I
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said.
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"Well That's because you're a Nitzcheian Iconoclast." She responded. If you
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don't know what it means, look it up.
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I just gave her a funny sideways look. Like dogs do when they don't
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understand. Its such a questioning look. I Understood what she was saying,
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but didn't want to go along with it..
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"Are you quitting the paper then?"
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"Oh no..." I said I could feel myself beginning to smile, and tried to push
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it away. " I plan to stay on.I will write my allotted stories. I wont help
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with layout. That's the editors job."
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I Couldn't fight off my wry smile anymore, it grew across my cheeks, and
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my de-braceified teeth began to show. She gave me a mean look. I think
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she knew what I was going to say because she seemed to have a mad look
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ready to attack me.
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" But when it fails, and it will fail with them in charge," I continued,
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my smile only growing, "I will be among the first to say I told you so. I
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will tell you...." Huge smile now. Her eyes were filled with contempt for
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me.
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"...and laugh."
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~Tuxedo Mask
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TuxedoMask@cyberdude.com
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P.S. Central Echoes it the name of my school newspaper, hence the title.
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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= "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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= FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids =
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= FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) =
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= http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.simunye.com/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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