69 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
69 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #541
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Call Me Naked"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Paganini
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 4/3/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Warning: offensive material follows.
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Recently, someone that I revere to an extent told me I was a
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pervert. He mentioned the subtle sexual undertones behind my conversation
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and writing, and I would like to take this opportunity, this forum, to
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explain myself, and to defend myself from such an accusation.
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Alright. If sitting around thinking about sex constantly makes me
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a pervert -- then damnit, I'm a pervert. If walking around the house
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naked at all hours of the day hoping to catch the mailman but finding it
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only to be a mail lady, and then not actually caring either way, makes me
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a pervert -- call me a pervert. In fact, I'm naked right now. I'll
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probably be naked all day; thinking about all kinds of disgusting and
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vulgar acts.
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Okay. Not really. I'm not really naked and none of the above was
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true, but I thought it might catch interest (if not offers) so I threw it
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in. Actually, I'm going through a strange phase right now. I've
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discovered little things that are kind of nice to do. For example, I have
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found that I like reading slightly obscene literature in clean public
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places (not the local Stop N Go). I think it's kind of neat to be reading
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it, and people around you have no idea what's being read or thought, and
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the idea just appeals to me. That doesn't make me a pervert. I don't like
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wearing pants all that much anymore. I don't think that should be an issue
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at all. When I write, I put on a Patsy Cline cd and I sit in my underwear
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and a t-shirt and I write, and I don't think that's perverted either. I
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like not wearing pants, and were it socially acceptable I would go without
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pants everyday (weather permitting of course). People have too many qualms
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about being naked.
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Another thing. I'm not obsessive but I have an ex that I would like
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to -- not really kill -- but seriously hurt. By the way, I just realized
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the way this is heading and, no, it isn't a manifesto. Actually, I dated
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the guy for about 8 or 9 months, and then out of the blue he got another
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girl pregnant. That's bad. I was wronged, and while I fell I have dealt
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with that well, I am still consumed with thoughts of say: murder and
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stalking. Now, I don't think it's really stalking if you just drive by the
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house a couple times. He left his keys in my car but I'm not going to give
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them back. In fact, recently I have thought about cutting up his keychain
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and baking it into a muffin or a cake or something, and making him eat it.
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Yes. Sometimes when I am driving I think about that and I have to stop and
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control my maniacal laughter.
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I really don't think it's all that sick that I spend so much time
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thinking of little subtle ways to scare the Jesus out of him. For
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instance, I think that cutting the crotch out of his underwear might send
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an invaluable message of some sort. Little notes that read "Die." or
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"You." might also get an interesting point across.
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Anyhow, I don't suppose there is much of a point to all of this but
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I also figure I'm not a pervert. I think everyone has strange thoughts
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about other people -- whether it be sex or death and it's okay to express
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them too. So, in response to you, my dear friend Jarett, I am not a
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pervert. Well, I would like to write more, but I have to throw on my
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trench coat and go out flashing (new essay altogether).
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #541 - WRITTEN BY: PAGANINI - 4/3/99 ]
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