111 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
111 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #826
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Everything Reminds Me of Cheese"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Effy
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 9/20/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I sit here in front of my computer. It's late at night. I seem to
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be on the internet again. What am I doing here? Didn't I disconnect five
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hours ago? It reminds me of the time I surfed "velveeta.com" until the wee
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hours of dawn, as the gold-orange sunrise spilled smoothly over the horizon.
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I can sense the evil Chat Daemons dancing around my head. They swirl
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around and sing and dance and prance and laugh. They chant a melodic parody
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of Mary Poppins:
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"I love to chat! Ha-ha-ha-ha!
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Loud and long and clear!
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I love to chat! Ha-ha-ha-ha!
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It's getting worse every year!"
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For some reason, this reminds me of all forms and variations of
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cheese, from colby to blue! I think that it's because "chat" and "cheese"
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both start with a "ch" and are both one-syllable words.
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Glancing at my screen, I see I have ICQ open, as well as
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"www10.chathouse.com/rave"...and oh yes! I'm staring right into the face of
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#ezines! It's an exciting night as always. I have a lot of logs from
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#ezines. Ha! Logs! That reminds me of the cheese log that Des was
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supposed to send me for my birthday present! Of course, I never did receive
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one. It doesn't bother me really, except that for sometimes I can't stop
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thinking about what could've been...
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All this thinking is starting to wear me out. How late is it? Oh
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my. It's almost 4:30 AM. Well I'm not tired...not really. I could...aw,
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fuck it...
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
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Soon I am fast asleep. I begin to dream marvelous dreams. I am
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walking in a field of wildflowers with TanAdept, Phairgirl, and a dozen
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orange cats. Since we chat in #ezines, the word "chat" reminds me of
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cheese. Soon we all have cheese logs and are hitting each other madly with
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them, while the cats leap and bound in harmony. The orange fur faintly
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resembles the color of cheese, and soon the cats' fur melts into beautiful,
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golden rivers of cheddar.
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All of this hype about cheese and cats makes me think of "An American
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Tail"...
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"There are no CATS in America, and the streets are full of CHEESE!"
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Things begin to spin before my rapidly blinking eyelids. Everything
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seems to be going in circles! Why does cheese make me think of cows? Is
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this why I write so many Hoe articles about cows? Oh my god! Bill has a
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cat named Patches that looks like a cow! Is this why Patches always made me
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think of cheese? I am living in Wisconsin! We have cheese! We have cows!
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Cheese and cows! That's why they go together. But cats and cows have
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nothing in common! Well, actually they both start with the letter "c"...
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and "cheese" also starts with one! Dude!
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But the set-in-stone thoughts of cheese outweigh any wavering
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thoughts of cows. I no longer need anything to remind me of cheese. My
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brain is turning to cheese. Cheese spread. Spoon my brains out of my ears
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and put it on a cracker. You'll be smarter. You might even start to like
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cheese. Or what if I were blue? Would you pour my brains on a salad? But
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wait, that's dressing. That strays from the ideal image of cheese. But
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wait a minute. Could I be string cheese? Mozzerella? I mean really. If
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you put me on a pizza, am I no longer cheese? Am I merely part of a pizza?
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I like Doctor Seuss. Why didn't he ever talk about cheese? It's
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goes so well with green eggs and ham.
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"Would you eat some cheese?
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Would you like it with a sneeze?"
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I live in a house made of Swiss cheese now. Sometimes my friends
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come visit me, and there are days when they are hungry. This makes me angry
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because then they eat my fucking walls, and I have to buy extra blankets for
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winter. I wish they made cheese roll-ups. I'm going to have to patch those
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holes in the walls with fucking bricks. Hehehe! Brick cheese! Wait! No!
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No! Fuck, no!
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I wish I were a Jersey cow. Why the hell can't I be one? Do they
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make cheese in New Jersey? Even if they don't, I bet they still eat it
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there. I wonder if Jon Bon Jovi likes cheese. After all, he was a cowboy
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("I'm a cowboy! On a steel horse I ride!"). And cows have so much in
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common with cheese. Obviously they have a lot in common with Jon Bon Jovi.
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So does cheese. Maybe I'll send Jon Bon Jovi a cheese log for Christmas.
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Logs! Oh my fucking god! Where are the Hoes? What have they done with my
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cheese? For the love of GOD! Cheese-Wiz CHRIST Almighty! Help! Help!
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HELP!
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.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
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I awake with a horrendous shudder. My eyeballs wiggle and curl in a
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disoriented consciousness.
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I am still at my keyboard. I am still in #ezines. I sigh with
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relief, because I've found the Hoes, and I have a premonition that all
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cheese, everywhere, is very, very safe. In a state of peace and accord, I
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reach for my nutty cheese log, and the velvetty smoothness of everyday life
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continues on.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #826 - WRITTEN BY: EFFY - 9/20/99 ]
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