informis
/
textfiles
1
0
Fork 0
Code Issues Pull Requests Packages Projects Releases Wiki Activity
textfiles/magazines/HOE/hoe-1110.txt

12807 lines
586 KiB
Plaintext
Raw Blame History

This file contains invisible Unicode characters

This file contains invisible Unicode characters that are indistinguishable to humans but may be processed differently by a computer. If you think that this is intentional, you can safely ignore this warning. Use the Escape button to reveal them.

============================================================================
HOE #1110 BIG BAD #3 12/25/2000
============================================================================
Here's a lil ditty for you gals:
tra la la la
~~~ la la la!!
\___/ doot doot
|_ _|
|o o| doot doot
| v |
| O | -- sing along!
`---'
__| |__ tra la la la
` ' la la la!!!
||| ||| doot doot!!
()|___|()
|___| doot doot!!
//|\\
// | \\ --- i can't hear ya!!!!!/!1
C] | [D
| the end of our little trip has come
`-----. GO AWAY
doot!! | this is a monumental event in history
| YOU FUCKING SUCK
doot!!! | YEAH
|
.----------' please take a moment, though, to consider the facts:
|
| BLOW! --> #1 ::::: A lot of people have written for this file.
| BeWM@ --> #2 ::::: It is over 600 kilobytes.
| KBAMM --> #3 ::::: very few people have this kind of attention span.
| YOWZH --> #4 ::::: it's HOE.
|
| Q: Do you think they're ready?
.-' (follow the magic schlong!) A: No, but we have no other choice.
| Q: What is this?
| A: More relentless crap than you'll ever experience.
|
|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: AND UNTO THEM, MOGEL SPOKE ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: LET THERE BE ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: _ _ ___ ___ ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| | | || || __|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: | |_| || _ |||_ ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: BIG! | _ ||| ||| _| BAD! ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: | | | |||_||||__ ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| | | || || |:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
|::::::::::::::::::::::: `-' `-'`---'`---' ::::::::::::::::::::::::
|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
| BUT JUDGEMENT DAY HATH COME!!!1
|
| (MAGICAL you motherfuckers all thought we wuz dead
| SCHLONG bitch we ain't dead yet
| VIOLATES and bitch yo'll gonna see
| THE SACRED
| ONE SPACE what marvelous shit HOE is cookin' up
| MARGIN
| RULE) up
| ; up
| ; UP
| _________
| |0=0|
| ------- ---- HELLO BOYS AND GIRLS I HOPE YOU ARE READY TO LIVE
| | O | IN A WORLD WHERE THERE WILL BE NO MORE HOES FOR
| |___| HOE IS GONE MISSING FROM OUR REALITY.
|
| (THA PROFESSOR)
|
| but what does he profess?
|
| "I PROFESS A WORLD WITHOUT END AND A WORLD WITHOUT SIN
| A RETURN TO THE NATURE STATE OF GRACE BEFORE THE FALL
| IN THE GARDEN."
|
| HHHHH HHHHH
| HHHHH HHHHH
| HHHHH HHHHH ___
| HHHHH HHHHH (O o) - WELL BLIMEY
| HHHHH HHHHH --- HE COULD HAVE
| HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH | AT LEAST DONE
| HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH \__|__/ THE OTHER TWO
| HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH / | \ EVEN JUST THE O
| HHHHH HHHHH | WOULDA BEEN BETTA
| HHHHH HHHHH |
| HHHHH HHHHH |
| HHHHH HHHHH oe _/ \_ doot doot!
|
| __ doot doot!!!
| | |
| "Got to say, I love it!" |= =
| - Jon Katz | -
| | / - IS IT REALLY SO BAD BEING ALONE?
| | \
| |__|
|
|
| . - YES IT IS AND NOW EVEN HOE HAS LEFT ME
| LIKE CATHERINE LEFT HEATHCLIFFE
| ______________
| |history lesson|
| | leadbelly | some words: from folk sensation
| | killed a man | huddie ledbetter, o - DIDN'T HE
| | | better known to y'all as -|- COVER
| | | mothafuckin' LEADBELLY / \ NIRVANA?
| | & | mothafuckin' LEADBELLY |
| | |
| | stabbed Alan | ahem: "I may be right and I may be wrong
| | Lomax | know you're gonna miss me
| | | when I'm gone"
| |______________|
|
| Okay, okay, the truth of the matter is that I'm tired, you're tired, and
| this whole dang biddley-squat is tired, old, corny, and played out.
| Ain't gonna be no IRC-4-LIFE sucka, baby, 'cause we gotz plans, baby.
| I've got a great idea!!! I'll just show you tons of funny e-mails!!!!
| I'll let them tell the story, a story full of one painfully ironic phrase
| after another.
|
| MORE ON THAT LATER.
|
| IF YOU MAKE IT THAT FAR.
|
| Date: Thu, 10 Aug 2000 01:26:02
| From: Sven Thatcher <sven@hotblack.3d.gweep.net>
| To: mogel@hoe.nu
| Subject: Glory Days of the Net
|
| The face of the on-line world is changing very rapidly. Well, it's
| *always* been changing very rapidly, but I don't mean new technologies.
| I mean cultural inclusion. I was once a geek. I had my own email address
| long before it was trendy. I have an impressively low ICQ number. I once
| used Win 3.11 for PPP access. Yes. I was hardcore. I guess that's why
| the world today shocks me. I should've seen the impending reality when a
| trendy chick had a shirt with a URL on it. Hard to remember now a time
| when the web wasn't huge. I'm so unused to random people just using
| email. I still think of it internally as a geeky thing, but it's not.
| Not anymore. Internet access seems to be a staple of exsistence now.
| Only truly technologically illiterate people refuse to use it now. I
| suppose this is a change for a better, but I can't help feeling sorta
| violated. This was my domain! This was my culture! What are all these
| strangers doing here now? Why do people message me randomly on ICQ in
| languages I don't comprehend. Why has it become popular to use "u"
| for you and "r" for are as opposed to being laughable. Why has being a
| 1337 hax0r become COOL?!!? Where did my net go? *sniffle*
|
| The idea was sound from the beginning. Kill the old media convention of
| the few to the many. Let the many broadcast to the many, but I'm afraid
| the signal to noise ratio has gotten WAY out of hand. There's so much
| useless junk on the net now. So many useless people that have no
| bussiness invading my communication channels. I am no longer a geek in
| my head. New technology doesn't interest me. Why did it ever? It was
| exciting. A new adventerous world was around me and I wanted to explore
| it, but the world has been painted over in corporate slogans and is home
| to bubbly teens. It's lost what made it magical. Now it's just another
| tool.
|
| The honeymoon is over.
|
| Date: Fri, 5 May 2000 04:11:36
| From: Treek <treekabomb1@hotmail.com>
| To: mogel@hoe.nu
| Subject: idiots
|
| You guys really are a bunch of pathetic losers. If someone told me that
| in 2000 there'd still be a CDC-spawned text file group that's released
| 1000 issues, I'd have died laughing. How many countless hours have you
| spent in utter waste?
|
| I know the net is full of any old idiot who can put up whatever they want
| on a webpage and there's no obligation to care, but you guys actually
| seem MOTIVATED to do this shit. What the hell is wrong with you?
|
| I bet you'll include this letter in an issue of your little text group.
| Well go ahead, I don't care. Let's let everyone take a moment and
| consider just how lame these people are.
|
| There's a difference between chaos and crap.
|
| ehehehehehe __________|\
| ___________/ o.o \ MAGICAL SCHLONG?
`---------------================___________ `---' ) WHAT IS IT??
\__________ / HAVE YOU SPOTTED
BUT WHAT CAN THE HOE WRITERS DO ONCE |/ SOMETHING???
THEIR TEXT FILES HAVE BEEN TERMINATED?
PERHAPS NEW MEDIUMS OF ART CAN BE EXPLORED WITH THE SAME AESTHETICS.
|\ __
J ARETT .=-`__ (` `) `-. sex!
KOBEK // '^ / / o2 _ )
SNUFF '//> < . .' --. `_ / ohmigosh!
MOVIE ///G\ .-'/ ./ .-` `._.' ohh AIDS
----> ////. ' `(/ ` nobody can
//// ` \--.-. c' - \ love me like you
/'.' ' .' ` \ `-' \ \ .-"".
.( -- . * ` . ) `. \ . \ <--- Anna Karina
' ` :|. ' ( > ) \ does cast
' * ` . '(| `/ __. / / . \ a mighty
/ ` . .'`. \ _(/,_ "' .' .\ `\ love spell
.. ' )_ ` .'..-' `--: / `. `\ my friends
`:: ..' `._ ..::::. ) __' _._`. \
( ` -. `-.::::::::) _.' "" "`-. \_
`. `._ _ :::::<''--""' ` ' `-. `-._ HEY KOBEK
`-..._ ' ``.`:::::. _. `--..----._
`_. .``. `::::: _..-' `._..___ . .) what?
`.\\` `::::. ---'' `"--..__`_/
`:::::: KEEP ROLLIN'
::(. AND TWO BECOMES FOUR
/////// 400 BLOWS ::. WE JUST
// O PLEASE .:: MOGEL GETS THE BITCH GETTIN'
// > '' FANNY ARDENT FROM BEHIND STARTED
/ \__ ~ HEHEHE DIDJA
|| GET IT? /////
(\ \) (~) // o ohhh mogel
( \ \ / / SEX. // > you are a
( \ \/ / ____________/ \__O retarded genius
( \__/ / ___ ______\// ohhh truffaut will never compare
/ | /@ ( / / ______)/
( |// \ \ / / (_)
\ () \ \O/ Yes, it's true.
\ | ) ) Sometime you've just got to
) ) / / I am truly fuck beautiful women, naked,
( |_ / /_ sorry that on camera, to get ahead in
(____> (____> you had to this world. Maybe a better
sit through world will come along one day.
this. Really.
But AIDS and Mogel's sexual exploits aren't the only thing that makes up
the core of HOE. No, we've got 10 young writers who've been branded
(sometimes against their will, but it's better that way) the much esteemed
title "HOE 4 LIPHE". These warriors will and should always be asoociated
with Mogel's projects, in some form, forever, since you all care.
HOE 4 LIPHE CREW
================
Mogel AIDS
Trilobyte Quarex
Caitlin Effy
Aster AnonGirl
Kreid Rhea
We salute you.
Date: Mon, 26 Jun 2000 14:17:54 PDT
From: gudrun <telefonbuch@yahoo.com>
To: mogel@textfiles.com
dear mogel,
I have a very, very, very big problem! I think, my boyfriend has a
relationship with another girl and I think they know each other through
the internet, so I really, really want to read his mails, because I'm
sure, they mail to each other at work. do you know a possibility to
crack his hotmail password? I'm really very despaired, because I also
don't know the secret answer.
please help me if you can!
thank you!!!
gudrun
Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 02:22:51 -0400
From: KristenMcGregor@compuserve.com
To: Mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
Subject: The End of HOE?
Hey Mogel--I'm Kristen McGregor and I've never written to
Hoe before. Here's my article. I want to be part of Hoe before it ends.
I've read it for about four years now, just never gave you anything
before.
"One more year" by Kristen McGregor
One more year today. One more year of this shit. I'm taking my
car, Bonnie the '96 Ford Aspire, and gonna aspire my ass out of this
craphole town. I'm driving as fast as I can to someplace where I'll enjoy
life. I'll dye my hair some funky color, but probably I'll try a platinum
blonde first, start wearing more than lip gloss, and go by a different
name. When I get to where I'm going I'll introduce myself as something
totally different. Something spiffy... Anastasia... Romaine. That's it.
Oh god! Do you know just how perfect that will be?
I'm not exactly concerned if I go to University, either. Have fun
while you're young and then go to college! Besides, school is a nightmare.
I seriously doubt I learned anything there that I couldn't have learned on
my own. And to top it off, school is full of those full of it teachers
who just expell their bullshit upon you. Teachers, with exceptions, are
just a buncha arrogant jerks who rely just a little too much on that
degree they attained a long, long time ago. They love to preach.
"And YOU, young lady, lack the focus to go anywhere in life."
Well, fuck that. Nothing is going to bring me down. Nothing! Do you
hear me?
Making friends was and is the worst. Under the constant ridicule
of being a "crackhead" and trying to fit into the utter conformity of
waify girls who just look like _The Gap_ sucked the life out of them and
the little freaks that get some kicks out of becoming your friend and
then pretending not to know you when you come back. The whole school is
knocked up with little rich shits and I somehow wound up in the middle
of it.
I'm thinking California. A nice tan would do me wonders. I'll make it.
Life will be good, once I get away from here. You'll see.
A first and last contribution. What do you think?
Date: Sun, 1 Oct 2000 08:44:41
From: peter.hodge@tpg.com.au
To: comments@dumbassandthefag.com
Dear Sir,
Let me start by apologizing for the unsolicited email. I located your
email while searching for information on the internet at
http://www.rockonline.com:80/wnyuchat.cgi and decided to sent you a email
to introduce my project... namely, to sell an Egg Farm.
To make life easy for you I have put the profile up here:
http://members.dingoblue.net.au/~peterhodge/index.html
Simple click on the above URL and it will take you to the summary page,
where you are able to obtain the full profile of this enterprise.
Regards,
Peter Hodge
hey!
you!
over here!
you know,
what the fuck; said he
i was looking up and down and all around and all I ever saw was the
hoeish whores begging for more text but it was hard to give them more text
and then maybe hell love me its been a long time and i wanted to scream out
filthy words like shit and fuck and the smooth white cock of an artist
i'd even suck it and get his stuff in my mouth a bit take me from behind
like dogs
TOP FIVE LIST OF ALL HOE FILES EVER:
#1: THE MADCAP LAUGHS by AIDS
#2 YEAH!@$!@ by Kreid
#3 SIX THINGS THAT ARE ALWAYS FUNNY by mogel
#4 A Story of a Boy and His Dog by KRNL
#5 Let's get it on, but only after two years,
by Styx
it doesn't matter if it's good
Paragraph structure paragraph structure I hate the dirty little japs
paragraph structure I hate the dirty little japs with their dirty little
jap eyes looking down the barrel of a gun Shit, man, I've seen the thin
red line, I know what those people were really like! They wanted to kill
the fucking balinese folk singing black island natives. AND THEN HIS
FUCKING BITCH WHORE, SHUT THE FUCK UP:
antonin artaud, kiss it baby
antonin artaud, kiss it baby
top five blowjobs of all time:
#1 Pat Nixon to Richard Nixon,
night of second presidental
victory
#2 Pat Nixon to Richard Nixon,
third date
#3 PAT NIXON TO DICKARD NOXIN:
victory night after
destroying Helen Gahagan,
star of 1935's SHE, in the
most vicious smear campaign
in the history of American
politics;
California Senate seat
#4 Pat Nixon to Richard Nixon:
night unknown
#5: Lewinsky to Clinton, moments
after he ran his tongue
over her ass
oh baby the dick is in the pussy now baby oh yeah i can feel the
heat of your pussy baby oh yeah its not like its hot exactly baby but its
like the heat of your pussy baby is slowly seeping inwards baby from the
outer skin towards the urethra baby its like its the god damned manifest
destiny of unprotected sex baby oh yeah you're getting me baby you're
getitng me uh its getting so much tighter baby are you going to come baby
are you going to come oh shit baby im coming baby im coming baby right now
baby right night oh shit baby uhhhhhhh oh baby i'm sorry you didn't cum
baby i'll try harder next time baby i promise baby i'm sorry baby i'll say
please too
\ \ \ \ \ \ \\\ ////
\ / //\ //\ \/ \\//
/\\//\/\/ \/\/ \/ \/\ \ \// \ /\/ / \/\//\ \\/
a short essay on what hoe means to me,
by little J arett, age 11
hoe means that i can write and people will read it and i mean even
if i'm not getting paid its almost professional right? i'm almost
hemingway, right? i'm almost doing what i wanna do right? yeah, of course
i am. now people know me nad i'm powerful and respected and when i'm a
world famous writer they'll try to live it up throught he glory days of
when they knew me back when and i'll be on the tonight show and lie about
my past. yeah. My next book is return to the valley of the dolls. yeah.
pussy eating techniques:
lick the alaphabet
concentrate increasing smaller, increasingly
faster licks
on the clit with your the tip of your tongue
do the whole lick with your whole tongue from pussy
hole to the nascent pubic hair
stick the tongue in the pussy, wiggle, or fuck
like a minature dick
lick the outer labia longer and lovely
blowjob technique:
hum while applying mouth to dick
battle hymn of the republic works well
oh the filthy fucking you've all done you sick animals you look in
mirrors and at tapes of yourselves fucking other people and its like this
horrible fascinating effect because you are all the children of the
puritans you're all free will devoid puritantical children you've all gone
insane and so you send yourself pictures of yourself being yourself NAKED
and everyone is happy and the voyeurism is no better when its narcissitic
top five fucks of all time:
#5 jim morrison & nico
#4 jack kennedy & marlene deitrich
#3 the chevalier d'eon & sir francis dashwood
#2 achilles & patroclus
#1 Xanthippe & Socrates
punk rock punk rock punk rock always punk rock but
what about punk cock the smooth lithe dicks of all the punkers coming into
those bonny holes of all their women and men and all the festering fistules
of flesh bursting out their semen their lust their love their needs and
doing it all over again the bounty of youth the flaws of ucking the endless
machinations of sex punk cock up in the house and up in the mouth
cut little holes in her sides and put his dick in those holes
feeling the total warmth and suction something no orifice could ever give
something only this could do didn't mean to start it like this kidnapping
and cutting but had to do it no matter and oh it was lovely tried to do it
once a year once a year but now it was one every six months and in the
future he could see it being once every 3 months and then? no don;'t think
like that don't worry keep it tucked aweay and maybe it'll stay but god it
feels god to have the dick in this flesh but god maybe i should start
heating up and meat and fucking that i read portnoy's complaint he thought
but he knew that the microwaving would strip the juices that the living
tissue had so mabye he'd go to animals but he knew animals would scream in
a way that living people would not
so in the end it came down to the way it started a dick in a pussy
feeling that and tongues in mouths and feeling that and bodies aainst one
another and feeling that warmth love maybe but not really and all the
beautiful things that came with the merging of the flesh parting the tides
but god it was something he wanted and he got it and she seemed to dig it
too and oh lord yes it was what he needed now more than anything here this
sex doggy style missionary her on top venus butterfly him in a chair her
standing yes it was all he needed and it helped a little here and there
and sometimes life seemed a lot better with it and then other times when
he thought about the literal mechanics of his action and the fluids and
the flesh and the way of all bodies he was a little disgusted and looking
down at her pussy it was something like roast beef on a grill he wondered
how he could touch it with so many different parts of his body but she
shifted her weight and her vagina's opening parted just a little and he
could see deep into the darkness of her hole and he felt in his pants an
erectoral rise going up faster than a strip mall and he smiled a bit and it
into one of her breasts not hard enough to draw blood or break skin but
hard enough to make her go errogenous zone insane and she spread her legs
even more and down there was the hole practically begging him for the
penetration it so sorely desired and he could hear its little voice saying
do me do do do do, do me! and he knew he had to do do do do do do, do it!
and he took his dick from out his pants and pulled his pants down but not
all the way down just to his ankles and he stuck his dick inside the pussy
and then it was oh so lovely he was burning but not enough to cause harm
and he felt the pussy and the pussy was feeling him back and he knew that
like duchamp he wanted to create art that gripped the mind like the vagina
gripped the penis
OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK!
Mogz here. Ain't nonna ya'll bitches
('cept mah dawg S'Ratte) been pimpin'
these text files as long or as well
as this straight-up ascii gangsta
spittin' shit atcha right about now.
he he he
it's funny because i'm white
one thousand, one hundred, and eleven ascii screams've met my approval
HATE to sound CORNY, fellas, 'cause there's always that kinda shit when
a big bad thing is goin' down, and this here BIG BAD #3 is real, real, bad.
in fact, there may never be anything worse. ever.
what's that to you? I'll tell you this--beyond the cDc-rhetoric about
text files being the ultimate preseved geek culture, and textfiles.com's
speeches about socilological goobajooba, working with ascii has taught me
just one thing, and I'll pass these words of wisdom off the dome:
If you pick something to be creative and obsess about, even if only a
handful of freaks like you get it, it'll teach you all you need to know.
it may sound ridiculous, but in many indirect ways, writing text files has
somehow put me places I may have never been at before.
This ain't no testimonial. Here's the value of text files: testing
yourself. Being creative. Producing something simple, small, personal,
with style. Trying to make the raw arrangement of letters on a computer
screen is the closest thing to geek honesty we'll ever have.
Don't forget it. Even while you're making your graphic-laced, interactive,
direct-everything, active-everything, e-everything web designs--content--
the message--is what all the real people are gonna see. There are still
plenty of us who do notice. That's all I gotsta say.
Let's proceed with the hundreds of text files about feces, nostalgia,
computers, personal stories you don't care about... and death.
/////
(o o) Stupid hogs! Don't
( ^ ) -- you know that HOE
~ is DEAD?
______ ______
6/ ^OO^ ^OO^ \9
\ ___ (oo) WHAT? (oo) ___ /
WW WW WW WW
/////
(o o) YEAH, hogs! You
( ^ ) -- DIE now!
~ HAHAHAHAHAHA!
MM___MM MM___MM
/ (oo) (oo) \
9\_____-xx- -xx-______/6
DEATH by Uberfizzgig
Death is good, but it has a fierce after-taste. Be sure to pop an
Altoid before you mosey off into that light or as the case will be for
most of you, before you are dragged screaming into a lake of fire where
your flesh will burn for eternity and you chew the feces of you mother.
Actually, if you're in that last category, you may want more than just
one mint. And be sure to take them out of that metal can first, because
it will get too hot to touch and maybe even fuse shut. Then where will
you be? Also, if you are planning to serve death, instead of dying
yourself, the proper wine varietal is Sangeovese for a normal death, or
Chianti if the death you're serving is more gruesome.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 4 Jul 2000 00:27:42 MDT
From: DisordeR <jericho@attrition.org>
To: Mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
There are perhaps a dozen t-file groups that have been around as long as
HoE, certainly none as prolific. With the passing of each old school
pillar of e-zines, the net is losing valuable insight into the minds of
our society. It's sad, but a majority of the Internet sheep don't even
know about these zines, this raw pool of writing talent. Their loss in
not stumbling across them during their digital life. Our loss when
another chooses to close up shop.
Date: Sat, 01 Jul 2000 15:51:45 CST
From: Lobo@greeny.org
To: mogel@hoe.nu
I've never been part of HOE. Of course, my name has popped up a
few times in the past: someone claiming to be me did a shitty interview
in #80. And I did write something awful that somehow DTO #3; that's the
closest I ever got to being in HOE.
Of course, I am the editor of one of HOE's "contemporary" (we're
actually a year older than HOE; suck on that, ya sonofabitch!) e-zines,
GwD, so I have an interesting perspective on all of you HOEs out there.
For instance, there's the idea that HOE has stolen its look and feel (at
least its feel) from GwD. Sure, you guys are at issue #1000-something
and we haven't even passed the century mark yet, but that's not the point.
That proves that we REALLY DO put out the lamest, crappiest publication
ever, and you guys are just pretenders to the throne.
That's okay, though; you've still earned my respect, even though
you did re-publish cDc #001 (Gerbil Feed Bomb) without permission.
My experience with a hoe: I used to work at a movie theater, and
we were required to hoe the weeds behind the building while wearing a
shirt, tie, and dress shoes. I had hoed everyday for a week, and the
manager told me to hoe them again. I told him I'd shove that hoe up his
ass. Now, he could have fired me on the spot, but he laughed and made the
stoner chick who was working with me hoe the weeds instead. This, of
course, shows that I rock balls.
There's something I'd like to point out: in HOE #1 ("The Entropic
Theme Song" or something like that), it claims that "entropy" rhymes with
"anarchy." This is most certainly not true. Look up rhymes in the
dictionary, numbnuts. As such, you must be destroyed.
Now that HOE is calling it quits, GwD holds the undisputed title of
crappiest publication in the e-zine world. Thanks. You guys have given me
the desire to actually get off my ass and mess with GwD-stuff. Since
you're quitting, there's no other publication/group still around from the
mid-1990s. Damn you, you've made me want to work on text again.
Fucking assholes. Reap the whirlwind, chaches. You've brought down the
thunder, well now you've got it.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Wed, 05 Jul 2000 15:51:45 CST
From: "Joel Katelnikoff" <word2ra@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Well Mogel, it's sad to see it end. I remember reading HOE off of
the BBSes in 1995 and thinking that zines were the ultimate form of
independent self-expression. I still believe in that, of course, as is
evidenced by the e-mag that I have working on for the last few years.
Don't worry my man, the zine world will live on and will always be seen
as a better place for having HOE as one of its highlights.
I remember feeling sad the first time HOE ended, and that was
because I was a lost teenager reading the immortal words of what other
teenagers had to say about life, love, and angst. This time, though,
things are different. HOE isn't a teen zine anymore. It is something
more. We have watched it grow and change with time, going through life
at the same rate that we have.
It is a zine that has shared some excellent literature with the
world while at the same time dishing out barrows full of smut. I love
that. There is something special about a zine that is humble enough to
openly criticize its own material. Sure Mad magazine does it, too, but
Mad magazine doesn't take it all the way by using 1k IRC logs as entire
issues. HOE has always kept it real in that way, ever since the ping
pong bombs and the completely accurate and yes IMMORTAL Violent Femmes
lyrics that always keep us bouncing in our bed from house to house.
The issues have always been good, but the reasons to enjoy them
have not always been the same. Some really cool stuff has come out of
the HOE factory. There has been some solid gold from this zine that I
can say has actually made a difference in my life. I can't say that
about most other zines. Mogel, if you've ever worried about it, I can't
say that about CDC. You did it back then, and there is no question that
you have done it now, but HOE is different. HOE is a special zine to many
people and we won't forget it (especially if you leave all of those old
files online).
Ok, enough sap.
Sincerely,
BMC - The Neo-Comintern
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
MOGEL by Meenk
Over six years. For what would appear to be a third of his life,
Mogel has toiled tirelessly, oftentimes ignoring his body's cry for such
base needs as food, sleep, and sex (especially sex).
What for? For you, of course, gentle reader. Mogel has sacrificed
a significant chunk of his life organizing writers, coming up with ideas,
proofreading over 5000 text files, and being a friend to everyone in the
scene, making sure there would not be a moment where someone said, "Oh boo.
I have nothing to read while at work in order to look productive, while
saving the trouble of actually thinking," as well as allowing every idiot
with a text editor to stand on a soapbox and be heard. In wasting so much
of his time, Mogel has wasted much of our time. For this, he deserves our
deepest gratitude, and I am certain I am not alone when I say "Thank you,
Mogel. Thank you for bringing us HOE, and thank you for laying the group to
rest with dignity and care."
...wait a second.
IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT MOGEL IS _NOT_ 19 YEARS OLD,
BUT _24_. THEREFORE HE HAS _NOT_ SPENT A THIRD OF HIS LIFE TENDING TO
THIS PIECE OF SHIT ZINE. ALL THIS TIME I FELT SORRY FOR HIM, HOLDING HIM
AGAINST MY BREAST WHILE HE LAMENTED ABOUT HOW MUCH OF HIS LIFE HE HAS
MISSED OUT ON BECAUSE HE HAD TO STAY HOME AND PROOFREAD. AS IF IT IS
SUCH A TOUGH JOB. IT ISN'T LIKE HE IS EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES!
HALF OF THE FILES HOE HAS RELEASED PISS ON THE STANDARDS OF SPELLING AND
GRAMMAR, AND FULLY ONE THIRD ARE UNINTELLIGIBLE. I SAY WE MAKE MOGEL GIVE
US THE HOE WE DESERVE. HE OWES US _AT LEAST_ A THIRD OF HIS LIFE, IF NOT
ALL OF IT. IT HAS TAKEN SO LONG TO GET THE "FINAL" ISSUE OUT THAT I AM
SURE WHATEVER REAL LIFE CRISISES THAT CAME UP REQUIRING HIS ATTENTION
HAVE LONG SINCE PASSED.
MOGEL SHALL BE OURS _FOREVER_.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
100 REASONS WHY I AM NOT J ARETT KOBEK or I LOVE MY BABY HE'S SO CUTE AWWW!!!
by Caitlin (who else, for god's sake?)
1. I still sort of like Manhattan, but J arett hates it.
2. I think rabbits are cute, but J arett hates them.
3. I like Pokemon.
4. I use lotion.
5. I like Ani DiFranco's guitar style, but J arett detests it.
6. I am not tone deaf, but J arett is.
7. I don't throw books at cat heads.
8. I don't enjoy cinema.
9. I have not seen Aguirre, Wrath of God.
10. I like to ride horses.
11. I like fast food, but J arett claims to hate it.
12. I am not supposed to have caffiene and don't drink it often, but
J arett drinks a two liter of caffeinated soda every day.
13. I like soap. Hehehe!
14. I hate IRC. Hahaha!
15. I hate computers. Hohoho!
16. I am not racist.
17. I look at the stileproject cam portals several times a day.
18. I grew up in the midwest.
19. I've survived public school.
20. I carry a purse.
21. I take vitamins designed for a woman's nutritional needs.
22. I pee every half hour.
23. I use a roll of toilet paper a day.
24. I love wasabi.
25. I don't play first person shooters.
26. I dip my tempura in the sauce juice stuff.
27. I like Roseanne.
28. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas made me want to die.
29. I don't buy street bootleg movies.
30. I've never sang O Canada.
31. I've never seen an Ed Wood movie.
32. I think Anna Karina is boring.
33. I get cold very easily.
34. Real blood and cuts don't gross me out.
35. I like to look at junk snail mail.
36. I have taken an Ecology class.
37. I've only been in St. Patrick's cathedral once.
38. My father is not crazy.
39. My mom is crazy.
40. I use several hair products sometimes.
41. I am terrified of spiders and cockroaches.
42. Jigglypuff is my favorite pokemon.
43. My computer monitor is bigger than his.
44. I like mice.
45. My hair is long enough to put in a ponytail.
46. I know Dr. DiPonio.
47. I first heard the Hair original broadway cast soundtrack this year.
48. I've never met anyone famous.
49. I've met Dan Bern.
50. I sing a lot.
51. I've never had a job.
52. I'd rather be sleeping than typing.
53. I've never read Wuthering Heights.
54. I like cinnamon.
55. I had fun at the ITIC.
56. I am much less insulting towards everyone.
57. I'm under 21.
58. I've interviewed bad kitty.
59. None of my close friends are married.
60. I like "Y Kant Tori Read".
61. I thought Last Tango in Paris was boring.
62. I've never been a porn addict.
63. I like the beach in the summer time sun.
64. My shoes last over two years.
65. I will never have a subscription to the New Yorker.
66. I will never be fascinated by comic books.
67. I've never seen Danzig in concert.
68. I've never heard Gwar.
69. Dean and I talk a special language.
70. I like children's toys.
71. People don't do what I tell them to.
72. I find Lil' Kim charming.
73. I am not brilliant.
74. I am much more patient.
75. I like cherry pie filling, but J arett hates it.
76. I am not worshipped by anyone.
77. I've never taken over #ezines.
78. I drink 3-6 liters of water a day.
79. My last name isn't Kobek.
80. I wear platform shoes occasionally.
81. I've never had a cockroach on my leg.
82. I own only a few pairs of tube socks, but J arett only owns tube
socks. That's it!
83. I clean rooms.
84. I like clothing.
85. I like to feed birds and ducks and geese.
86. I am not always wonderful, J arett is.
87. I am not always a pleasure to be around.
88. I am not the most attractive person in the world.
89. I get sick and vomit for no reason occasionally.
90. I drink decaffeinated coffee.
91. I am not a creative writer.
92. I've never impregnated brazillian women.
93. I like olives and onions.
94. I can imitate chick singers.
95. I sleep a lot.
96. I eat ice.
97. I like sharp chedder cheese the best, but J arett likes swiss
cheese the best.
98. The WWW bores me. :(
99. I've never been to Rhode Island.
100. I am not the greatest person in the entire universe.
oo ooo
ooooooo ooooooo
oooooooooo oooooooo
ooooooooooo ooooooooo
oooooooooo oooooooo I love you!
oooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooiiiiiiooooooooooo (This is a daisy for you,
ooooooooooolllllllllloooooooooooo because they are all going
oooooooooollllllllllllooooooooooo to die this fall, so I picked
oooooooootiiiiiiiiiitoooooooooo one before they did.)
oooo oooiiiiiiiiiiooo oooooo
oooooiiiiiiiioooooo Love, Caitlin
oooooooo\$$$$/oooooooo
oooooooo \$$/ oooooooo
ooooooo @@ ooooooo
oooo ^@@ oooo
@@
@@^
@@
^@@
@@
@@^
@@
^@@
@@
@@^
_____________ @@ ____________
\___________ @@ __________/
\ @@ /
| |
|/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/|
| o |
| o o |
| o o |
| O |
| o |
(vase&water, etc.)
Gosh, this picture of a rose makes me think that HOE was all just a bed
of roses and star dust memories, but gosh, there are a few people who
we've hurt along the way.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Sun, 27 Aug 2000 07:17:23 GMT
From: Big Daddy Bill <bigdaddybill1@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: Yo...
Hey Mogel,
Do me a favor and take my name off your little webpage poll, PLEASE. I
would like that if you did that, considering, really, to tell you the
truth, I don't want to be associated with your trashy tainted little
ezine bullshit. You've really come along way, man, I really hope
your happy.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2000 14:45:45 GMT
From: "Big Daddy Bill" <bigdaddybill1@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HEY
MOGLE thats right I spelled that bitch mogle.
Take that fucking vote thing down. At least my name, you pompus
rude person you. C'mon negroid I thought you loved me.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Current results for HOE MEDIA POLL
Question: Who's the BEST writer HOE has ever had?
Author - # of Votes - % of Votes
------ ---------- ----------
Daisy 7 15%
AltRocks 27 56%
Angeldust 10 21%
Anilos 2 6%
Big Daddy Bill 30 62%
Six 5 11%
Unrelated 16 33%
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
MY LAST TEXT FILE FOR HOE by Big Daddy Bill
Maybe it's because your better writers. Maybe it's because your
not really better writers, it's just I'm a really *bad* writer. But it's
probably because I live by a few certain morals and ethics that even
though they are sometimes ignored, it's all I've really got. It doesn't
make sense to treat people bad in this world, since all around us is
badness. What comes around goes around, I always say. I've come to this
one simple conclusion:
With a few exceptions, and I mean few... you're bad people.
Your cruelty is unheard of, and I refuse to even be associated with
most of you. If it wasn't for the fact that a lot of you had talent,
and Phairgirl was a good friend of mine, I wouldn't have even joined.
It was being accepted by such a small, seemingly elite group of
writers that turned me on to begin with. The more I chatted with the group
of you, and read your stories, I realized that your only defense mechanism
is the humiliation and petty teasing of others. It's like you thrive on
it. Someone elses pain is your material, right? Wrong.
I quit. I don't need this. Nobody needs this.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
I'M DONE by Six (AliCam!)
Dear Various HOE writers and chatters of #ezines:
Just so you all know, I am writing this on August 20, 1999 at
4:33pm, before I read Nybar's ADVICE LETTER (HOE #799). If I choose to
read it at all that is. Anyway.. In high school I was in honors classes
and I hated them, so very much. I used to think it was because I was
forced into them by my parents, but now I realize that wasn't the case at
all. It was simply because smart kids are assholes. I miss being 15 and
reading thoughtful books by European novelists and thinking I knew
everything in the world. Thinking everything revolved around me. That I
was more intelligent than everyone else. I recall back then some older
girls on that chat I called didn't like me very much at all and I never
understood why. Now I do.
In like 4 years (give or take), when you stop being insane, you're
going to wake up. It's very weird, I don't remember what I was doing but
something changed. Suddenly the advice my mother gave me was something I
listened to, I no longer had the desire to rebel, and I didn't know it all
anymore. I know most of you think I'm stupid, but odds are you would
actually like me if you took the time to talk to me instead of
automatically disagreeing with everything I have to say. Being smart
doesn't make you better. Thinking so is just another way of being shallow.
I may not know anything about philosophy, I may be from NJ, I may not be
into anything PC or trendy in that underground kind of way like most of you
are. However I have always acted like myself and never put on an act for
you guys. If thats not good enough for you, I'm sorry. Someday I hope
you all get over yourselves. It's was a good time, HOE, see ya around.
I quit.
Sincerely,
Six aka AliCam
P.S. This letter was not directed to everyone.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000 21:44:25
From: "Cindy Spurlock" <stripe@mindspring.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Nothing seems to have really changed in six years. I've been putting
off writing something for this big BANG finale issue of HOE for over a
month now... and here we are, at the twilight of the deadline, and what
have I produced? Nothing, nada, zilch. Have I entertained a few ideas?
Yes. I just can't bring myself to sit down and pretend to be something
that I'm not... to write in the expected style or to spit out a
carefully-crafted, well-intentioned, glittering piece of empty rhetoric or
perfectly plastic prose.
As I've spent the last 5+ years observing from the sidelines and
never really immersing myself into the HOE culture, I've always been the
objective outsider pressing her nose against the smokescreen of ezine
culture and never quite the active participant. You learn a lot when
you're detached. That sense of obligation that one has when one is
committed to a group is missing when you're on the outside looking in.
You see, writing may come naturally to me, but this entire "scene" has
never really been what I would consider to be an "accepting" or even a
creative collective capable of offering CONSTRUCTIVE criticism--apparently,
even "outcasts" form pecking orders. I shouldn't have expected more;
apparently, it's not natural. Pseudo-intellectual pissing contests are
just not my idea of fun.
Everyone has always, and will continue to, feed off of each other's
egos... I've never found that to be appealing. For intelligentsia, we
[the HOE collective] certainly act like children. It's always saddened
me in a way. We've had the potential to BE, but we've just posed in the
doorway of higher understanding, shirking, smirking and doing anything
necessary to maintain the status quo. For an "alternative culture", we're
not very alternative at all. Sometimes, it seems as if the text files,
the bulletin boards and the chat sessions have served no other purpose
than to repair someone's self esteem, to help Johnny Cool or Rachel Radical
get that chip off of their shoulder. We all have problems, but being a
well-to-do teen can't possibly be THAT bad.
Sure, I write my ass off for my college newspaper. And when I'm not
writing, I edit, edit, and edit some more until I'm babbling about the
differences between AP standard and CMS standard in my sleep. I edit. I
write. I read. That's what I do. For some reason, aside from the fact
that the ability to express myself [and to improve upon the writing of
others] comes naturally to me, writing and editing are more than tasks or
hobbies. One of the things that initially drew me toward the ezine scene
was the fact that when I was growing up, no one thought that writing or
being creative was cool. Being interested in reading was something that
could get your glasses knocked off your face at recess. It was the initial
IDEALS, the PRINCIPLES of HOE and other text groups that caught my
attention. I was excited! "Wow," I thought. "People like me who like
the things that I do... who have experienced what I have experienced."
It's amazing just how wrong one can be. It's also amazing how much
it sucks when your beliefs that you want so DESPERATELY to be true turn
out to be false. Maybe things would have been different had I spoken up.
Maybe, but doubtful. Maybe things would have been different had I not
had such lofty expectations for HOE and its collection of writers and
groupies. Maybe. If anything, my experiences around the fringe have
taught me many things. I do believe that the last six years could have
been so much more if it weren't for everyone trying (whether they admit
it publicly or not) to out-do, out-cool, or out-asshole the others in the
group. Then again, I shouldn't expect so much. After six years, it seems
as if many of us haven't learned that we can be different, radical, and
alternative, on the inside without having to brand our worldviews and
philosophies on EVERYTHING that we come into contact. It's the
twenty-something equivalent of "Look Ma, no hands!" exhibitionism. It's
everything that I despise and yet, here is this collective group of people
who probably have more in common with each other than they will ever know
that can't seem to go for more than three hours with exploding into a
mudslinging contest. Why?!?
It's the question that I've been asking myself. It's the question
that I can't seem to answer. But then again, maybe it doesn't deserve an
answer. After all, I just have my nose pressed to the glass.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Dear Cindy Spurlock,
Mogel forwarded me the mail you sent him, in which you give us your
withering critique of the scene (so-called) and HOE, en general. While I
think some of your points are undeniably valid, you seem to missing some
vital information and criteria. I'm drafting this letter in the hopes that
in the end you'll turn your loathing off of us and back to its proper
focus. By that, of course, I mean to say your own bespectacled, book
loving self.
(In a way, of course, your slanderous condemnation of the entire
scene (so-called) and HOE (en general) could be read backwards in a mirror
as a bitter indictment of yourself and your own world views. You're not
someone who has a strong ego, nor do you actually truly believe the things
you say you do. Perhaps you don't believe them on a subconscious level,
but no one pushed to defend themselves by the threat of (gasp!) having to
write something for the final HOE could ever actually believe the ramparts
they've constructed. You write to us, because, in effect, you are writing
to yourself. The more you express it, the easier it becomes to swallow.
Yes.)
Anyhow, let's get along to the first, and obviously most important
point: HOE has been a joke for (at least) as long as my involvement with
it. If we've slandered each other and done other mean things, then we never
*really* meant it. Sure, I could call you a craven cock gurgling whore, but
what would that mean? Honestly? Nothing. You're last tuesday to me, babe,
and so is everyone in HOE and everything we ever did.
I realize this might seem to you, and all the beautiful others, as
some sort of cop-out (so-called). Big deal.
Secondly, and not any less importantly, HOE is crap. I realize that
some of our lesser folks, and oh there are many, haven't ever been able to
get a fully tenuable grasp on this concept, so let me repeat it a second
time: HOE IS CRAP! Get it? It's *total shit*, and that's all it ever was.
All of this great promise that we, the intelligensia (so-called), have
thrown away into the void of nothingness is a total and utter lie crafted
by those of you who have never been able to buy into the fundamental
reality of HOE's existence. We publish *total shit* because *total shit*
makes us laugh.
The idea that we're all in it together for the pursuit of knowledge
and the gratification of the erudition that comes from being THE
INTELLGENSIA is an ill suited idea. I think you might want to go talk to
the Neo-Futurists out of Chicago or whomever, because baby, we ain't
artful, we ain't smart, we ain't pretty, and we sure as fuck ain't
successful. Go look at the first 10 HOE files. Go look at that the last
ten HOE files. Compare & Contrast? What's gotten better, what's gotten
worse?
Nothing.
HOE is a static entity.
And I realize, baby, that this might come as a horrible shock to
your system, that the people who seem talented and might be STARS!@$!@ just
want to shit it all away on dick and pussy jokes, but those kids who
smacked your ass down in 3rd grade were right: you're a fucking jackass
for attributing any importance to any of this. Books mean nothing. Writing
means nothing. Reading means nothing. At the end of the long cold weary day
when your life is dwindling down and you're sad and lonely, it's not going
to be a book that changes your soiled bedsheets, and it's not going to be
a book that gives in to your crackling demands for an assisted suicide.
It amazes me that your major complaint with HOE seems to be that
we've never, how would you say it, grown up? We've never realized that
jesus! we can be totally innovative without making other people feel bad
or trying to force our world views on everything else?
It amazes me because that's the very thing you did in your mail:
you made me feel bad and you forced your world view onto HOE, which never
fit it, and never will. You presume so god damned much about HOE and about
the scene and about US that you never bother to look with that strange
lens of objective clarity that you blather on about so much. Baby, take a
deep hard look at what I'm saying, because this is the straight up from
the horse's mouth gully jimson truth. Ain't nothing truer.
Finally, I suppose I should address making each other feel bad.
But I won't, except to say that the ultimate form of innovation is
making your neighbor feel acutely aware of how big a piece of shit he's
become.
Anyway baby, I am,
Sincerely Yours,
AIDS
-:- -:-
He's wrong, you know.
I'LL TELL YOU WHAT THE PROBLEM IS IT'S FUCKIN' MOGEL WHO'SE GOT HIS FUCKIN
FINGER PRINTS ALL OVER THIS FUCKIN' EZINE AND HIS FUCKIN HUGE FUCKIN
UNJUSTIFIED FUCKIN EGO FORCES EVERYTHING TO CONFORM TO HIS FUCKIN WARPED
DELUSTIONAL AND PATHETIC VIEW OF THE WORLD, SO THAT SNOBBY FAT DEGOBA LOSER
CAN SUCK MY DICK CAUSE WHAT MAKES HIM FEEL HE'S SO SPECIAL HUH???????WHAT'S
UP WITH MOGEL???????????
 "Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to
/<2F>\ stand against the schemings of the devil. For we do not
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> wrestle against flesh and blood, but against
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> principalities, against powers, against the rulers of
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> above all, taking the shield of faith with which you
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the
?? SWORD of the SPIRIT, which is the word of God; praying
?? always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit,
?? being watchful to this end with all perserverance and
?? supplication for all the saints --" Ephesians 6:11-18
-Pause- [C]ontinue, [N]onStop? [?]
This is a new BBS in the area, and I hope you will enjoy it.
This BBS is dedicated to spreading the WORD of GOD, helping
to get the message out in these final hours in which we live.
ALL credit for this BBS running, the message bases, and the
file areas goes to the LORD JESUS. HE has provided the funds
and the abilities and the desire to get this project up and
running.
The file areas are light, but I know they won't be for long.
If you have something to contribute in the way of a file,
feel free to send it up. I would say that other than the usual
utilities for communications and compression, this BBS will not
carry many files other than Bible related material. Please do
not upload adult material, .GIF's, etc. They will only be 86'd
and after three warnings, your access will be limited to message
areas only.
This BBS will NEVER ask for MONEY, CHARGE for usage, or
have restrictions on usage based on participation in the
message bases, files uploaded, or financial donations. Time
limits will be the only restriction, and as the board grows,
limits will be slightly shorter for high speed modem users,
to give everyone equal chance to partake of the food here.
There will not be any file ratio. Freely I have recieved,
freely I give. I hope you will do the same.
Joel Donelson - SysOp
REMEMBER THOSE DAYS? I TOTALLY REMEMBER ATARI AND THAT CARTOON WITH
THE GUY THAT TURNS INTO THE CAR BACK IN THE DAY WHEN I WAS A KID
HERe"s SOME FUCKIN MAIL
Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2000 22:13:51
From: "boddah" <boddah-@nirvanafan.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
dear ORIGINAL REAL nirvana fan,
I fall into that category as well and I agree with everything you
said in that txt (HOE #6) but man...as for the lyrics...a lot of
them are wrong. you should go on to their sites for lyrics but a
lot of them have mistakes too! as for endless nameless, the last
song on nevermind, you'll find a hundred different versions of
the 'correct lyrics' but that's bullshit cuz he changes the words
with each performance...
I'm gonna read your other shit since I enjoyed the first one so
much...if you want the lyrics to any of the songs or anything else
just mail me.
Date: Wed, 2 Aug 2000 17:27:45 -0500
From: "boddah" <boddah-@nirvanafan.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: shit
well...as you may or may not know, i have just finished reading
your text file on shit...and as impressed as i was, i was extremely
disappointed and hurt. you are one of few who have the privelege of
realizing the genuine value of our feces, but you seemed to have
overlooked its main purpose! shit, as is the clouds in the sky, is a key
in true art. whence do you think the influential inspiration of michael
angelo, picasso, bosch was discoverd to create these paintings that are
often even described as shit? each and every shit is different, as you
mentioned, and holds the origin of art as we know it within each one of
its intricate lines and folds.
it all began back in the day when stuff happened to those people at
that place and there was that day when the fellow with the hair decided to
study the beautiful poopy that ejected from his gluteus maximus...he found
all sorts of images and the answers to all of his questions on life and
where it was going, but that's more on to the topic of bland and unorginal
as those today and resolved to do as he did and that's how art became.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
MOGEL'S FUCKIN' EGO IS ALL OVER THIS FUCKIN' EZINE AND THAT GUY AIN'T SHIT
HE'S JUST SOME STUPID MODEM LOOSER WHO MOMMY DIDN'T PAY ENOUGH ATTENTION TO
HIM SO HE WAS ON THE COMPUTER TO MUCH SO NOW ALL YOU FAGGOTS ARE HIS MOMMY
THAT'S USING PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY BY THE WAY GOD I HATE THAT ASSHOLE
"A little truth about Mogel"
by oregano
If oyu give a bunch of Legos to mogel and cstone and effy and
trilobyte and swisspope here is what you get.
effy makes a house complete with a nice little sidewalk and lots of
comfy windows and working doors and plants and a wall to keep the rabbits
out of the garden
cstone just sort of connects things at random and unconnects things
at random making a random mess of Legos - though he does have a good
command of where various pieces are say when trilocyte needs a Lego shaped
like a plant.
trilobyte makes a mecha-soldier bent on world destruction.
swisspope I cannot remember. Sorry pope.
but Mogel, what does he make? something manly like a death ray gun
or a high powered race car? nope, he makes a Zamboni, the things that
come out in hockey games to smooth out the ice.
ABOUT MOGEL by dinkee
oh, how i would love to walk around mogel's brain, just to see how
colorful those cells are like. how i would love to wake up in the morning
to be bombarded with a million text files to edit and cut and sort. what
a miracle it would be to be adored by so many (yes, i'm included!) and
loved by all. the almighty mogel with his almighty hoe.
i've not known him long, but even five minutes with this 'zine hero
is like a lifetime in this cyber world. if i could show him the twinkle
in my eye that i hold for him, i would sing lovingly about how the birds
and the bees do it, the trees do it even little something somethings do it!
as for the final tribute of hoe, i will cry long hours knowing
that mogel will no longer be sorting our files out, no longer be reading
our deep fantasies and fears. therefore i write this last textfile as
mogel sorts, edits and cuts this one to show him me deep utter
fascination. yes, i'm mogel-obsessed. we all are, but i'm proud to
admit it.
<stands up> My name is dinkee. i am a mogelaholic.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
FUCKIN EGO HIS FUCKIN EGO DOESN"T" NEED ANY MORE GOD DAMN TEXT FILES
WRITTEN ABOUT HIM AREN'T THERE ENOUGH REFERENCES TO HIM IN ALL THOSE
FUCKIN TEXT FILES FROM THE 90s FOR CHRISTSAKES????
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
TRUE HIPHOP/TEXTFILE CONTRADICTION #1 EXPOSED:
Is there *really* a difference between laughing WITH and laughing AT?
TRUE HIPHOP/TEXTFILE CONTRADICTION #2 EXPOSED:
Don't forget where ya come from
VERSUS
It ain't where ya from, it's where ya at.
HAVE YOU GOT THAT PEOPLE?
*--* 12-31-94 - 01:13:42 *--*
QmodemPro 1.50 Compiled 06/15/93
Copyright (C) 1992,93 Mustang Software, Inc.
Insufficient EMS memory
You are now in TERMINAL mode
<20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
OK
ATDT8067941842
Enter number or name or "NEW"
NN: MOGEL
PW: XXXXXXX
PH: ###-###-XXXX
Last few callers:
8373: Lobo #372
8374: Zippy #447
8375: Mogel #167
8376: Lobo #372
You are caller #8377
HEY HEY HEY aLL y0U r0dEnTzzz!!!!!!
y0U'vE eNteReD tHe
___ ______
:*: /*/ / * \ / *__* \
:*: /*/ /*/ \*\ / */ \* \
:*: /*/ :*: :*: / */ ~~~
:*: /*/ :*: :*: \ *\_____
:*:/*/ :*: :*: \ * * * \
:*/*/ :*: :*: ~~~~~\* \
:*:\*\ :*: :*: ___ / */
:*: \*\ :*: :*: \* \__/ */
:*: \*\ :*: :*: \ * * /
:*: \*\ \*\ /*/ ~~~~~~
:*: \*\ \ * / E L E E T.
~~~
120012001200120012001200120012001200120012001200
1200 baud of PURE 'PUTER POWER
- Over 32k of file space -
Headquarters of Elite Leeches & Troublemakers (ELeeT)
ANARCHY!ANARCHY!ANARCHY!ANARCHY!ANARCHY!ANARCHY!
Sysop: Thee HaCKeR
Cosysop: The Kil0byte NINJA
NO R0dEntZZ! N0 FeDs! THIS B0ARD IS F0R ELITE USERS 0NLY!
Auto message by: Franken Gibe #1
I'M TURNING INTO MEAT
Name: Mogel #167
Time allowed on: 70
Mail waiting : 1
Last on : 12/30/94
You haven't voted yet.
Franken Gibe #1 read your letter on 12/30/94.
Read your mail now? Yes
Title: .
Name: Franken Gibe #1
Date: 2:21 pm Fri Dec 30, 1994
RE: KRAD 4 SURE
hiya mogel person. man, what a gushy, nice ole letter you sent.
thanks, sir. anyhow, uload some HOE files, if you feel like it.
OKAY? OKAY!
T - 01:09:31
[1] [I licked Baby Pumpkin Pie] :?
Things YOU CAN DO in frankie's KiNGDoM of SHiT:
[N] Scan ALL OVER for NEW stuff.
[S] Scan a single SUB-bored.
[P] Pollute The Kingdom with your own stale/trivial refuse.
[*] Fabulous places to die.
[C] Talk to a sympathetic person who loathes you.
[F] Spew your hate at me.
[E] Spew hate at others.
[V] Your vote counts in a kingdom of shit.
[M] Read your mail, regret you're alive.
[Y] Discover how puny and pathetic you are.
[U] Discover others punier and more pathetic than you.
[G] Files that make you say "Gee!"
[X] Turn off this cock suck of a menu.
[T] TRANSFERZ! RAD WAREZ! DIGITAL BULLSHIT!
[O] End it all.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Take a moment and reflect on your feelings for text files.
...
You're not doing it, are you? I don't blame you. You're either some
kid that Mogel or one of his cohorts dragged into this thing, ignorant
of the origins of Le Text Philo, (http://www.textfiles.com educates, baby!)
or you're some guy that's trying desperately to forget all those
wasted years.
But gosh, those days were so romantic.
____________________________________________________________________________
_ _ _ _
((___)) ((___))
[ x x ] cDc communications [ x x ]
\ / presents... \ /
(` ') (` ')
(U) (U)
H0RNBL0WERZ K0DEZ
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scribed by GalleonDude
>>> A CULT Publication......1824 <<<
-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
____________________________________________________________________________
Horatio Hornblower
Horatio Hornblower Naval Facts
Commision Decommision
Date Date Ship Rank Book
June 1794 March 1798 Indefatible Midshipman Mr. Midshipman
Hornblower
May 1800 March 1803 Renown Lieutenant Lieutenant
Hornblower
April 1803 July 1805 Hotspur Commander Hornblower and the
Hotspur
August 1805 December 1805 Commander Hornblower During
the Crisis
December Hornblower and the
1805 January 1808 Atropos Captain Atropos
June 1808 October 1808 Lydia Captain Beat to Quarters
May 1810 October 1810 Sutherlan Catain Ship of the Line
November
1810 June 1811 Captain Flying Colours
May 1812 October 1812 Commodore
Hornblower
October
1813 May 1814 Lord Horblower
May 1821 October 1823 Admiral Hornblower
in the West Indies
____________________________________________________________________________
(c)1824 cDc publications by GALLEON DUDE
All Rights Worth Shit
"ASSHOLES, THE REASON I WISH I WAS A BOY"
by Poppy Z Brite
I keep thinking about him, when he was there at the club, dressed
like some ghost from an ancient Japanese wood cut, or maybe from a mid
period horror film. His waifish little ways, so androgynous, so strange, he
was like Dracula's wives, not the Bela Lugosi Dracula, no, but the wives
of Christopher Lee, from the Hammer Dracula Films.
The Cure were playing and I couldn't help but notice he looked like
Robert Smith with his black shock of hair hanging down over his face like
icicles. I wondered what his asshole was like. I knew it would smell musty
and there'd be the scent of his balls slightly masking it, but I knew I
could smell his masculine richness if I brought him home and cracked open
his legs. Would he go with me?
He was clearly homosexual, I kept watching his eyes float over other
boys' crotches, and I knew I'd never have a chance. My love is a shameful
sickness. I am a female. Oh, I wish I was a boy. I'd like to crawl into bed
with every queer boy I see, the asian ones especially, and rip off their
pants. I'd taste their smooth creamy cock in my mouth and then I'd flip
them over and spread wide their ass.
My cock would rip into them, biting like the nails into Christ's
wrists, and they would respond and wiggle as I fucked them. I would control
them with my cock. It's like a line I read in William S. Burroughs that
goes: "His face was an equation written in the Algebra of pain." Did I
mention that Robert Crumb is a big influence on me? But he isn't gay, and
not particularly attractive or asian, so I wouldn't really like to sleep
with him.
but oh, how I wanted to fuck this boy. I'd shove my fingers in his
ass and smell the shit on them. It would be the essence of love's bitter
mysteries. I'd like to go down and lick that asshole, tasting it, watching
him react like a puppet on a string of livewires, my tongue shooting
electricity up his ass.
My cock, oh shit, it would be so hard by now. It would be raging
erection, nine inches of meat, and I would spit on it, the scent of my
saliva slightly nauseating me, slightly driving away the scent of his ass,
and then I would fucking stick it in. Pow! Like that! Right to the moon!
And I would pile drive and backpack his body while I listened to the sweet
crooning sounds of Leonard Cohen interspersed in a mural of sound with the
deep voices of Peter Steel and
Smearing his makeup so he looked like Lon Chaney in London After
Midnight... Oh god... it would be so good to be a gay man in this mythical
idealized world of mine...
HELLO THIS IS THE FULL DEMON ROACH UNDERGROUND/DRU/cDc USER LIST
PRESERVED FOR PRESERVATION
HERE
User Full Handle Last On From
---- -------------------- -------- --------------------
0001 Grandmaster Ratte'.. 10/27/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0002 Test Dood........... 04/25/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0003 Death Mage.......... 07/18/93 DAYTON, OH
0004 Daniel.............. 07/23/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0005 Tippy Turtle........ 08/28/92 HELL, TX
0006 The Iron Eagle...... 02/06/92 HOUSTON, TX
0007 MajesTic CocKsTer... 11/27/92 PANCREAS, FL
0008 mr mojo............. 05/05/93 MIDDLETOWN, CA
0009 The Egyptian Lover.. 07/24/91 PK2600, TX
0010 Mykel Board......... 05/15/93 NEW YORK CITY, NY
0011 deckard............. 03/06/93 BLUE POINT, NY
0012 Maximum Overdrive... 08/26/93 NAPLES, FL
0013 VanguarD............ 01/12/92 POWERDOME, VA
0014 Asmodeus Rex........ 04/01/93 SOUTH KINGSTOWN, RI
0015 Lestat de Lioncourt. 01/26/92 CANOGA PARK, CA
0016 justin case......... 11/04/91 NORTH HOLLYWOOD, CA
0017 Red Pirate.......... 09/20/93 COLUMBUS, OH
0018 FonePHuz............ 03/26/93 PROVO, UT
0019 Frontal Nudity...... 07/16/92 HELL, TX
0020 Leviathan........... 09/27/93 HULL, ENGLAND
0021 overdose............ 08/12/92 BLOOMFIELD HILLS, MI
0022 PLAGUE.............. 09/25/93 EEKLIPZ OF TYME, NC
0023 Raistlin............ 08/06/91 MITCHELL, IN
0024 jack t.............. 08/24/91 DISCORDIA, FL
0025 Dazed N. Confused... 06/08/93 A NEAT PLACE, CA
0026 Tumbleweed.......... 09/20/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0027 Sudo Cunahsus....... 03/06/93 SASKATOON, SK
0028 Absalom............. 10/29/91 S ICE 9, TX
0029 The Mindbender...... 07/25/93 U.S.K.G. , TX
0030 Flint............... 07/27/93 MODESTO-THE INN, CA
0031 help................ 07/27/93 SCARBOROUGH, ON
0032 teddy kennedy & bob. 04/04/92 GERMANY, ,FL
0033 thor................ 02/18/92 MEMPHIS, TN
0034 Midnight Wanderer... 07/05/92 NORFOLK, VA
0035 The Observer........ 10/11/93 WATCHPOINT, VI
0036 x-terminator........ 07/31/93 BRADENTON, FL
0037 the ghost........... 10/17/91 CASSELBERRY, FL
0038 Dr. Bombay.......... 09/22/93 LOUISVILLE, KY
0039 Rex Rebol........... 07/29/93 SAN JOSE, CA
0040 Nickel.............. 10/04/91 EDMOTON, AB
0041 Nameless One........ 10/08/92 BURNSVILLE, MN
0042 The Trip............ 02/13/92 PROJECT: PHUSION, MD
0043 Mr. Bungle.......... 08/31/93 SOMERVILLE, NJ
0044 The Greene Agent.... 08/08/91 SARATOGA, CA
0045 Fink................ 03/02/93 SANTA CRUZ, CA
0046 master xxx.......... 08/01/91 PHOENIX, AZ
0047 Gandolph............ 09/19/93 DAYTON, OH
0048 archangel202........ 08/08/93 HOUSTON, TX
0049 aixel syD........... 10/21/91 LOS ANGELES, CA
0050 Infernal Jester..... 08/07/91 ARL. HTS., IL
0051 Dr. Logic........... 08/17/93 SKOKIE, IL
0052 Laughing Gas........ 09/07/92 SOLSBURY HILL, MD
0053 MORTASKULD.......... 08/23/91 HARRISBURG, PA
0054 Uncle Skag.......... 07/16/92 THE BRICK, CA
0055 pork................ 08/22/92 MUSICAL PHARMACY, IT
0056 Suicidal Amoeba..... 06/19/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0057 manager............. 08/15/91 ORLANDO, FL
0058 Mildred Pierce...... 08/20/91 NEWPORT NEWS, VA
0059 fishburne........... 05/09/92 DURHAM, NC
0060 DEKION.............. 08/21/91 NEW ORLEANS, LA
0061 Art Fish............ 12/29/91 ORLANDO, FL
0062 Video Vindicator.... 09/28/93 ILLICIT, USA
0063 The Arctic Knight... 07/30/93 ANCHORAGE, AK
0064 Wile E. Coyote...... 08/30/91 BRENTWOOD, CA
0065 TION................ 07/26/92 NILES, MI
0066 The White Rider..... 01/18/92 SAN FRANCISCO, CA
0067 Xetava.............. 08/16/93 CORAL SPRINGS, FL
0068 Neurochic........... 06/19/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0069 Sxvampire........... 03/12/93 PORT MOODY, BC
0070 Silencer............ 01/27/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0071 Common Object....... 07/31/92 LUBBOCK, TX
0072 DEAD HEAD........... 09/26/91 LA, CA
0073 Chainsaw Enema...... 07/13/93 MEDFORD, OR
0074 beach............... 10/23/92 LONG BEACH, CA
0075 The Head............ 10/12/92 MILWAUKEE, WI
0076 Lime Jell-O......... 10/21/91 WOONSOCKET, RI
0077 Xevious............. 10/13/91 PHREAK OF NATURE, OH
0078 subliminal chaos.... 05/28/92 PSYCHOTIC IND., WI
0079 Mucho Maas.......... 10/16/91 NOT RELEVANT, XX
0080 Strato Viper........ 10/17/93 SANTA ROSA, CA
0081 Morpheus............ 01/16/92 PHILADELPHIA, PA
0082 LADY CAROLIN........ 09/12/93 THE CONVENT, CA
0083 ?................... 10/06/91 LANCASTER, |S
0084 Mindframe........... 10/08/91 DALLAS, TX
0085 D-Man............... 10/11/91 NEW ORLEANS, LA
0086 Slayer.............. 03/04/93 DANVILLE, CA
0087 Ahpsi............... 01/18/92 LANCASTER, PA
0088 wicket.............. 10/14/91 SACRAMENTO, OR
0089 IceBerg............. 10/24/93 GAS CITY, IN
0090 Lord Macduff........ 08/17/92 HOUSTON, TX
0091 Quinn............... 09/18/93 ILLICIT ILLUSION, PA
0092 hackrat............. 01/21/92 DANBURY, CT
0093 Syd Hartha.......... 03/30/93 COLORADO SPRINGS, CO
0094 Lord Hackathar...... 11/05/91 BLOOMINGTON, IN
0095 Omega............... 10/27/93 BOSTON, MA
0096 Surfin Cow.......... 10/30/91 HOUSTON, TX
0097 Zippy............... 08/31/93 LUBBOTTOCKS, TX
0098 PONYBOY............. 08/28/92 COLUMBUS, OH
0099 max headroom........ 10/02/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0100 Cyclone............. 11/11/91 ISOLATION ][ BBS, NC
0101 The Renegade........ 02/01/92 SPLIT REALITY, NC
0102 Hominoid Nightmare.. 03/03/93 SOMEWHERE, OT
0103 Ftang-Louie......... 12/23/91 BERKELEY, CA
0104 The Road Warrior.... 11/22/91 LA, CA
0105 Greenpeace.......... 09/28/93 YUBA CITY, CA
0106 Korsch.............. 02/08/92 GERMANY, GE
0107 Captain Crook....... 03/09/92 BOSTON, MA
0108 G.A. Ellsworth...... 10/21/93 BERKELEY, CA
0109 Al Capone........... 03/05/93 CAPONE'S VAULT, PA
0110 WireHead............ 08/01/93 STERLING HEIGHTS, MI
0111 Thrasher............ 12/15/92 MODESTO, CA
0112 Lister.............. 06/22/93 TRF BBS, ON
0113 Gomez............... 05/08/92 CHESTERFIELD, MO
0114 The Overlord........ 02/14/92 PLN BBS, PA
0115 Dark Sorcerer....... 07/20/93 COLORADO SPRINGS, CO
0116 twist............... 06/12/93 HALLSVILLE, TX
0117 the raven........... 08/24/93 NEW YORK, NY
0118 STEALTH BOMBER...... 08/17/91 GLENDALE, CA
0119 Capt. Portapotti.... 05/11/92 SANDY UTAH, UT
0120 Sparafucile......... 04/16/92 ANNAPOLIS, MD
0121 Toxic Anarchist..... 06/07/92 HARTFORD, CT
0122 Shadow Master....... 04/11/92 FT. WORTH, TX
0123 Toxic Overlord...... 06/27/93 HOUSTON, TX
0124 Shagnasty........... 03/14/93 MAGNOLIA, AR
0125 Thee Uberlord....... 05/03/93 LENOX, MA
0126 siegfried........... 01/08/92 HOUSTON, TX
0127 tman................ 08/01/93 AJAX, ON
0128 MAC???.............. 08/11/93 CERRITOS, CA
0129 Cy.................. 03/19/92 NAPERVILLE, IL
0130 M.C. Allah.......... 09/19/92 THE ACID CULT, TX
0131 Red Knight.......... 08/06/93 FLUSHING, NY
0132 White Knight........ 10/27/93 HOLBROOK, MA
0133 great white......... 12/24/91 AUSTIN , TX
0134 Burning Chrome...... 03/29/93 BOSTON, MA
0135 Cool Jerk........... 03/07/93 MARLBORO, VT
0136 Michael Bakunin..... 12/24/92 ALUMINUM HINGE, MD
0137 Franken Gibe........ 08/14/93 HELL, TX
0138 Orion............... 08/02/93 VIRGINIA BEACH, VA
0139 Black Adder......... 05/11/92 DAVIS, CA
0140 Torch............... 10/29/92 MARION, IN
0141 Skunkboy Devo....... 02/12/92 ALBANGY, OR
0142 the bruiser......... 09/22/93 PEEKSKILL, NY
0143 John Conner......... 08/02/93 PHILADELPHIA, PA
0144 Drunkfux............ 10/15/93 HOLLYWOOD, CA
0145 August Personage.... 01/08/92 CORVALLIS, OR
0146 Sterling............ 01/02/92 COLLEGE STATION, TX
0147 The Nightstalker.... 10/23/93 RUTLAND, VT
0148 supernaut........... 03/28/93 AUSTIN, TX
0149 Havok Halcyon....... 09/13/93 BRIDGEWATER, NJ
0150 Scuzzy Port......... 11/11/91 HARTFORD, CT
0151 Reid Fleming........ 08/19/93 SANTA BARBARA, CA
0152 kid mayhem.......... 01/12/92 HALLSVILLE, TX
0153 lblume.............. 09/23/93 NY, NY
0154 Judge Dredd......... 06/22/92 HOUSTON, TX
0155 The Chairman........ 10/14/92 AUSTIN, TX
0156 Nerdlinger Weams.... 01/06/92 SAN FRANCISCO, CA
0157 Psychedelic Warlord. 09/08/93 EL PASO, TX
0158 The Blade........... 09/02/93 NEW YORK, NY
0159 The Butler.......... 01/07/92 KC, MO
0160 Silkworm............ 08/08/92 AM I EVIL?, VA
0161 N WEAMS............. 01/08/92 SF, CA
0162 dispater............ 01/28/93 PHRACK INC, XX
0163 ZANGIN.............. 09/11/93 ATLANTA, GA
0164 Tarkin Darklighter.. 10/25/93 TYLER, TX
0165 Gargafrenchlle...... 03/12/93 LOUISVILLE, XX
0166 Xaemyl.............. 03/12/93 THE CITY OF DIS!, XX
0167 Legion.............. 01/20/92 SHELTON, CT
0168 Evile Priest........ 02/03/92 PURE EVIL, XX
0169 Mutantis XXX........ 06/06/92 BOISE, ID
0170 GRIM REAPER......... 01/24/92 THE VOID, MI
0171 MeGaDeaTH........... 02/02/92 SEATTLE, WA
0172 The Mad Hatter...... 10/11/93 BOISE, ID
0173 JDM................. 09/05/93 CAMBRIDGE, MA
0174 susan............... 10/02/92 HOUSTON, TX
0175 Soulstealer......... 03/15/93 DIGITAL DECAY, TN
0176 Tequila Willy....... 10/23/93 -TWGSC-, CA
0177 cabal............... 01/30/92 AUSTRALIA, OZ
0178 kilroy.............. 10/22/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0179 Rusty Bukitz........ 09/16/93 SILVER SPRING, MD
0180 Genghis Khan........ 02/13/92 DAYTON, OH
0181 Skylar.............. 01/30/93 ATLANTIC, NJ
0182 The Baron........... 02/25/92 DEVIL'S BAYOU, NJ
0183 Count Zero.......... 06/28/93 ATDT, MA
0184 Quiksilver.......... 08/26/92 MOUNTAIN LAKES, NJ
0185 Sectionist Phreak... 07/19/93 BLACK INTRNET, XX
0186 Stoner.............. 09/04/92 MOUNT PROSPECT, IL
0187 Shadowbyte.......... 02/18/92 SWOTRB, NY
0188 Valentine Michael... 03/02/92 COLLEGE STAT., TX
0189 Louis Cypher........ 10/17/92 LUCID DREAMS, TX
0190 Flaming Chaos....... 03/04/92 -TNH- (3 01), MD
0191 Thomas Kuhn......... 03/14/92 HILLSBORO, KS
0192 Beelzebub........... 09/20/93 JACKSONVILLE, FL
0193 Intrepid Traveller.. 06/08/92 HELL, CA
0194 cheshire............ 07/27/92 ST PETE, FL
0195 Form Destroyer...... 12/01/92 BOISE, ID
0196 M. R. Bakshish...... 03/23/92 WILLIAMSBURG, VA
0197 Doctor2............. 03/26/93 BOISE, ID
0198 DARK ONE............ 06/20/92 AKRON, OH
0199 Postman Pat......... 04/26/92 NEWARK, NJ,NJ
0200 Supernigger......... 10/16/93 INTERCHAT (RIP), NJ
0201 stjude.............. 08/14/92 BERKELEY , CA
0202 NAPOLEON............ 04/24/92 GREENWICH, CT
0203 ALIEN............... 06/05/92 AUSTIN, TX
0204 STRAFE.............. 04/30/92 NIGHT CITY, FU
0205 Inhuman............. 08/22/92 PENTAVIA, VA
0206 DEUS LUCIFER........ 08/22/93 CHURCH ROAD, VA
0207 Popov Navastroya.... 05/05/92 BALTIMORE, MD
0208 lance romance....... 10/28/93 PHRANKSTERLAND, UK
0209 syzygy.............. 05/15/92 REPO YARD OF DIS, CA
0210 Xymotic............. 05/16/92 CITY OF DIS, IE,CA
0211 mother leather...... 05/12/92 TOLEDO, OH
0212 King Salamander..... 07/01/92 ELEC. COMMUNE, XX
0213 ZenMaster........... 05/27/92 SEATTLE, WA
0214 The Overmind........ 05/27/92 AUSTIN, TX
0215 Lungmustard......... 03/14/93 NO. ST. PAUL, MN
0216 iNVALiD MEDiA....... 09/18/93 UNPHAMILIAR, AZ
0217 Doctor Disector..... 05/25/92 HOUSTON, TX
0218 Sanity Bandit....... 05/27/92 MESCALTOWN, NJ
0219 Allanon............. 06/07/92 DEVILLA, LA
0220 Yang................ 03/25/93 RICHMOND, VA
0221 Githanus............ 06/14/92 VALPARAISO, IN
0222 pit viper........... 01/17/93 NEWTON, NJ
0223 The Ranger.......... 07/21/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0224 wire head........... 05/23/93 PEIDMONT, CA
0225 Racer X............. 05/20/92 DRAGONFIRE, NJ
0226 Scizmatrix.......... 12/02/92 MAGNETIC, PG
0227 Erekose............. 09/03/93 CHICAGO, IL
0228 Visual Mark......... 06/25/92 MEMPHIS, TN
0229 Visionary *-Jedi.... 06/25/92 BOSTON, MA
0230 WireTap............. 07/02/92 NEW YORK, NY
0231 Jesus Christ........ 07/19/92 PHOENIX , AZ
0232 Tal Meta............ 07/26/92 TANSTAAFL BBS, NJ
0233 John Falcon *-Jedi.. 08/21/92 TERMINAL FROST, AK
0234 Mechanix............ 03/07/93 TPR/514, PQ
0235 The Rat............. 08/08/92 PARADISE COVE, VA
0236 ShatterStar......... 07/30/92 BATESVILLE, AR
0237 Gusher Jizmax....... 09/25/93 TUSTIN , CA
0238 The Sinner.......... 10/10/93 RICHMOND, BC
0239 Acid Cripple........ 01/04/93 HOUSTON, TX
0240 forced entry........ 09/02/92 ONTARIO, CA
0241 grim................ 08/25/92 SILVER SPRING, MD
0242 Jello Biafra........ 08/28/92 HOUSTON, TX
0243 winstonsmith........ 03/31/93 IOWACITY, IA
0244 zEKE................ 08/30/92 FARGO, ND
0245 Mojo Messiah........ 09/05/92 LOS ANGELES, CA
0246 Rex Mundi........... 12/04/92 BROOKLYN CENTER, MN
0247 Lint................ 10/03/92 BLAINE, MN
0248 The Victim.......... 09/02/92 BATON ROUGE, LA
0249 Mr. Wizard.......... 08/05/93 AGOURA, CA
0250 Cutty............... 03/18/93 FREMONT, CA
0251 BIG DICK............ 08/05/93 MANCHESTER, CT
0252 Morbid Angel........ 10/20/93 VERONA, NJ
0253 firefox............. 03/18/93 BRUNSWICK, GA
0254 The Wanderer........ 08/08/93 "THE BOARD", VA
0255 Lord Disembowelment. 01/17/93 VERONA, NJ
0256 ICE9................ 06/08/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0257 The Pusher.......... 07/09/93 ARMOMK, NY
0258 DEACON SPAM......... 01/27/93 NEW YORK, NY
0259 inphiltrator........ 03/19/93 HAVANA, CU
0260 YAZMARTUC........... 10/28/92 PRTSMTH, NH
0261 charmaigne leggett.. 07/21/93 BRUNSWICK, GA
0262 Tom Dikkenharey..... 07/18/93 OMAHA, NE
0263 smart card.......... 11/24/92 PLANO, TX
0264 The Wildcard........ 12/25/92 PHILADELPHIA, PA
0265 Bitmap.............. 10/29/92 SURREY, BC
0266 Sloth............... 10/31/92 EUGENE, OR
0267 Phantasm............ 09/27/93 NEWARK, NOTTS,UK
0268 Coda................ 11/02/92 HAMILTON, OH
0269 Stan Leisure........ 11/04/92 C-BAD, CA
0270 SonnyBoy............ 12/04/92 GAFFNEY, SC
0271 VooDooSnake......... 01/04/93 LANSING, MI
0272 Post Mortem......... 11/09/92 SHAKER HTS, OH
0273 DV8................. 11/09/92 ARLINGTON, MA
0274 Fishbone............ 01/25/93 IDAHO FALLS, ID
0275 Necrotic Sock....... 03/28/93 SASKATOON, SK
0276 Storm............... 11/17/92 GARY, IN
0277 JimmyZ.............. 11/12/92 VANCOUVER, BC
0278 The Juggler......... 07/10/93 SAN DIEGO, CA
0279 SupSkuf............. 11/12/92 WESAKE VILLAGE, CA
0280 Halo Jones.......... 11/13/92 PARKTOWN, AL
0281 Corto............... 10/21/93 NEW YORK, NY
0282 Toshi............... 11/23/92 OCALA, FL
0283 Vyper Of Deth....... 12/07/92 NEW YORK, NY
0284 Obscure Images...... 10/22/93 ST CHARLES, IL
0285 Cytherea............ 11/14/92 MILWAUKEE, WI
0286 Calvert DeForest.... 11/16/92 SANTA CRUZ, CA
0287 Red Barchetta....... 03/14/93 DES MOINES, IA
0288 MR. X............... 12/11/92 ANNISTON, AL
0289 Eight Ball.......... 09/27/93 NONE, TX
0290 Ang3ldust........... 11/23/92 THE PHACTORY, MI
0291 SQUASHED............ 11/20/92 HOUSTON, TX
0292 DAVID............... 11/20/92 GREENBELT, MD
0293 Starbuck............ 11/22/92 GROUND ZERO BBS, CA
0294 Zeus................ 11/26/92 UNLAWFUL ENTRY, OK
0295 STix................ 11/20/92 PHILADELPHIA, PA
0296 warf................ 11/22/92 MOLALLA, OR
0297 Dharma Bum.......... 03/24/93 SEATTLE, WA
0298 Zelia Winter........ 10/26/93 LOMAD, MD
0299 Xiola Blue.......... 01/24/93 KENT, WA
0300 Zor................. 01/20/93 LANDSCATTER, CA
0301 AxeL................ 03/29/93 ASIA BLUE, UK
0302 T.N.T............... 11/22/92 HAYWARD, CA
0303 The Usurper......... 10/18/93 WINSTON-SALEM, NC
0304 NOT ELVIS........... 03/21/93 PADUCAH, KY
0305 Diabolik............ 03/22/93 CANTON, OH
0306 Count Mecha......... 11/23/92 ANN ARBOR, MI
0307 Wonder Boy.......... 11/23/92 EEC, LN
0308 iconoclast.......... 11/24/92 OCEANSIDE, CA
0309 John Rambo.......... 03/02/93 STEVENS POINT, WI
0310 Pytho............... 11/26/92 PORTLAND, OR
0311 Mercenary........... 08/16/93 IIRG, CT
0312 Belies Bright....... 03/22/93 RICHLAND , WA
0313 chronos............. 10/15/93 CLE, OH
0314 Madhatter........... 01/20/93 VENICE, FL
0315 Kings Indian........ 11/29/92 MPLS, MN
0316 vader............... 01/21/93 NEW YORK, NY
0317 Cyber Christ........ 12/03/92 BOWLINREEN, OH
0318 Laszlo.............. 12/04/92 WILMINGTON, NC
0319 Led Zeppelin........ 01/05/93 HOUSTON, TX
0320 Chillin............. 07/09/93 KATY, TX
0321 Gumby Head.......... 12/30/92 CLAREMORE, OK
0322 Legion Traveller.... 04/30/93 COOPERSVILLE, MI
0323 TRAX................ 08/14/93 GLOBAL PHUN, XX
0324 Hidden Death........ 07/23/91 PLACERVILLE, CA
0325 Tanis............... 12/05/92 BERKELEY, CA
0326 necromancer......... 12/05/92 FAYETTEVILLE , NC
0327 mr stay puff........ 12/06/92 ROCKWOOD, CA
0328 harper.............. 10/08/93 GREELEY, CO
0329 idnod............... 12/07/92 BELLMORE, NY
0330 Kingpin............. 10/03/93 BOSTON, MA
0331 Medicine Man........ 12/08/92 METAL SHOPPE, ON
0332 -Grind King-........ 03/10/93 SEATTLE, WA
0333 pfoley.............. 12/10/92 EUGENE, OR
0334 Euclid.............. 12/10/92 SANTA FE SPRINGS, CA
0335 Aleph One........... 01/16/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0336 Hacker.............. 04/01/93 HACKERS INC., IA
0337 D/Bug............... 09/25/93 CRITICAL MASS, OH
0338 Mr. Sinister........ 12/14/92 VA. BEACH, VA
0339 Cubby Crasher....... 12/14/92 LOS ANGELES, CA
0340 Otis angler......... 12/13/92 ANDERSON, SC
0341 jonathan davis...... 12/22/92 DENVER, CO
0342 Cyberon............. 12/14/92 DOVER, DE
0343 cowshit............. 12/14/92 CLEVE, OH
0344 Light............... 12/14/92 BLAINE, MN
0345 Lord Iocat the First 01/06/93 BIRMINGHAM, MI
0346 smurd............... 03/30/93 MADISON, WI
0347 Master Thief........ 04/01/93 MINNEAPOLIS, MN
0348 Misha Daemongarski.. 03/25/93 AUSTIN, TX
0349 Proto Type.......... 03/25/93 PORTLAND, OR
0350 The Deviant......... 08/02/93 BOSTON, MA
0351 Rick Hunter......... 11/19/91 MPLS, MN
0352 Dryer Lint Breather. 12/16/92 ROXBURY, MA
0353 dj.................. 12/20/92 LA, CA
0354 Inf0rmati0n Surfer.. 05/14/93 NAPLES, FL
0355 Constantine......... 04/30/93 PARK RIDGE, IL
0356 count 99............ 12/17/92 NORFOLK, VA
0357 Crud Smegma......... 01/07/93 TUCSON, AZ
0358 Petong.............. 09/25/93 SAN FRANCISCO, CA
0359 Hardtime............ 03/26/93 ALEXANDRIA, VA
0360 sevlove dog......... 12/18/92 SAVANNAH, GA
0361 Ultraman............ 01/25/93 ORLANDO, FL
0362 Hitman.............. 12/20/92 MIRAMAR, CA
0363 Catfish Fiend....... 12/20/92 EUGENE, OR
0364 SPAWN............... 12/25/92 ORLANDO, FL
0365 Dioxin.............. 08/23/93 BALTIMORE, MD
0366 I\O SYMBIOSYS....... 12/20/92 AUSTIN, TX
0367 Dark Prince......... 12/24/92 KATY, TX
0368 Suicidal Maniac..... 03/13/93 BELLEVILLE, IL
0369 ENWEREWS............ 12/23/92 WICHITA, KS
0370 Drake............... 03/29/93 ABERDEEN, UK
0371 High Octane......... 12/23/92 SAN FRANCISCO, CA
0372 fastjack............ 10/25/93 SLATON, TX
0373 Negative Creep...... 06/27/93 SAN FRANCISCO, CA
0374 Stormtrooper........ 09/29/93 OVERLAND PARK, KS
0375 major havoc......... 11/05/92 CHICAGO, IL
0376 solitude............ 12/24/92 PETALUMA, CA
0377 DANGER MOUSE........ 01/17/93 ISLE OF PALMS, SC
0378 Jay................. 12/25/92 LILLOOET, BC
0379 cosmic raindrop..... 12/25/92 ANOKA, MN
0380 mantra.............. 12/25/92 ANARKY OR DEATH, MI
0381 Nick................ 12/31/92 NYC, NY
0382 Tarl Cabot.......... 05/01/93 LOUISVILLE, KY
0383 Rommanov............ 08/06/93 WROCESTER, MA
0384 Myshkin............. 12/27/92 MILWAUKEE, WI
0385 osiris.............. 12/29/92 HUNTINGTON WOODS, MI
0386 Psy Chotix.......... 01/31/93 ALMONTE, ON
0387 Mr. Curious/DoPi.... 08/10/92 MESA, AZ
0388 Mr.Skill............ 12/30/92 KATY, TX
0389 the jester.......... 03/28/93 BOISE, ID
0390 Enkil............... 12/31/92 RUSSELL, OH
0391 BASTARD............. 01/01/93 CHESTERLAND, OH
0392 peter piper......... 08/23/93 CHICAGO, IL
0393 sound and fury...... 08/06/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0394 Phuzzy Gnu.......... 03/17/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0395 Lucifer Sam......... 12/20/91 LUBBOCK, TX
0396 BOB................. 12/31/92 PLATTSBURGH, NY
0397 Problem Child....... 04/01/93 DEVILS TRIANGLE, NV
0398 Superhigh........... 04/15/92 EL CERRITO, CA
0399 The Chief........... 08/28/93 SLITE SWEDEN, SW
0400 Titivillus.......... 03/28/93 BROOKINGS, SD
0401 THE CHINAMAN........ 01/03/93 COLGATE, WI
0402 Jaques DeMolay...... 01/04/93 NEW ORLEANS, LA
0403 mirror shade........ 01/12/93 ORLANDO, FL
0404 Fetus............... 01/05/93 THE CELL, TX
0405 Lyfe Smyth.......... 03/29/93 IOWA CITY, IA
0406 Sgt. Pepper......... 07/23/93 LITTLE NECK, NY
0407 RevCo............... 01/05/93 MEDFORD, NY
0408 ellis dee........... 03/29/93 AUBURN, AL
0409 The Black Adder..... 01/10/93 EVERGREEN, CO
0410 ZEN WEREWOLF........ 08/25/93 WITCHITA, KS
0411 Darwin.............. 08/01/93 CRANSTON, RI
0412 Aeon Flux........... 05/01/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0413 The Old Man......... 03/02/92 MIAMI, FL
0414 Sad Jack............ 01/08/93 REPTILEHOUSE, CT
0415 Czar Cjeff.......... 01/10/93 WASILLA, AK
0416 Mr. Slippery........ 03/03/93 WALNUT CREEK, CA
0417 lsd-25.............. 01/12/93 WTBY, CT,CT
0418 bruce heeler........ 01/20/93 VANCOUVER, BC
0419 Ri0t................ 01/09/93 MEMPHIS, TN
0420 Hunter.............. 08/19/93 UK, UK
0421 Taex Rosynrr........ 04/01/93 GILFORD, NH
0422 Doctor Dissector.... 08/16/91 POWAY, CA
0423 Johnny Dark......... 10/03/93 TORONTO, ON
0424 ken doll............ 04/01/93 WACO, TX
0425 Mr. Mean............ 01/18/93 WINNIPEG, MB
0426 Manifest Destiny.... 07/29/93 P.M.S., FL
0427 Murdock............. 01/12/93 GAINESVILLE, FL
0428 Kausality........... 09/30/93 TAMPA, FL
0429 Mohawk Dave......... 07/29/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0430 Zaphod.............. 01/30/93 VICTORIA, TX
0431 Chevela............. 08/31/93 SACRAMENTO, CA
0432 Shannen Doherty..... 09/07/93 BOSTON, MA
0433 Rafsan Johnny....... 01/19/93 TULSA, OK
0434 fzoul............... 08/13/93 ZHENTIL KEEP BBS, WI
0435 Capt. Bligh......... 01/13/93 L.A., CA
0436 tester.............. 02/20/93 DLJF, TX
0437 websters third...... 01/14/93 GAINESVILLE, FL
0438 Mick Jones.......... 01/16/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0439 Rogue Trader........ 01/21/93 CINCINNATI, OH
0440 Data Rustler........ 04/22/93 WESTFORD, MA
0441 Dexter Spanfield.... 10/08/93 PINKSEX BBS, CA
0442 Dr. Spine........... 01/17/93 ST. LOOMIS, MO
0443 lemming jones....... 01/17/93 LITCHFIELD, CT
0444 Deathlok............ 08/08/93 NACOGDOCHES, TX
0445 Rotting Corpse...... 06/20/93 ATLANTA, GA
0446 stitch.............. 04/27/93 KNOX, TN
0447 tackhead............ 01/22/93 CAMBRIDGE, MA
0448 mhodder............. 05/02/93 WOLFEBORO, NH
0449 wonderchild......... 04/29/93 CONCORD, NH
0450 apostrophe.......... 08/18/93 SARNIA, ON
0451 flip................ 05/24/93 VANCOUVER, BC
0452 Cianyde............. 05/15/93 ELEC. GENOCIDE, TX
0453 Frater F............ 08/17/93 INDIANAPOLIS, IN
0454 The Perfectionist... 08/18/92 MARENGO, IL
0455 ~GHOST~............. 05/07/93 FIND LAY, OH
0456 lestat23............ 05/02/93 GREENVILLE, SC,SC
0457 phuthark............ 05/03/93 WOODBRIDGE, CT
0458 Sandman............. 10/26/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0459 Country Steve....... 05/04/93 TULSA, OK
0460 The Necromancer..... 05/04/93 THE NECROPOLI{, OH
0461 GONZ................ 05/07/93 CARDBOARD LAND, WA
0462 Damanstian.......... 08/17/93 BBS, TX
0463 jester.............. 06/07/93 BOISE, ID
0464 DUCKIE.............. 05/15/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0465 QUEUE............... 09/05/93 YAKIMA, WA
0466 Chris............... 05/09/93 LARVIK NORWAY, 00
0467 Nitro-187........... 06/04/93 KETCHIKAN, AK
0468 do now?............. 06/08/93 BAINBRIDGE, WA
0469 kazmeister.......... 02/01/93 WINNIPEG, MB
0470 ZION................ 10/16/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0471 nunzio battaglia.... 05/10/93 DIAMOND BAR, CA
0472 FEMHACKER........... 05/15/93 ATLANTA, GA
0473 Horatio............. 10/25/91 ST PETE, FL
0474 The Orator.......... 09/14/92 EMERALD CITY, MN
0475 Ranch Apocalypse.... 05/15/93 SAN FRAN666CO, CA
0476 Spyder.............. 05/25/93 HAYWARD, CA
0477 Lethal Allele....... 01/13/93 CLARKSVILLE, TN
0478 mudrat.............. 05/18/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0479 I\/Iisfit........... 05/16/93 CYBERBAMBI, FL
0480 DIGITAL SHAMAN...... 05/16/93 SEBASTOPOL, CA
0481 skynet.............. 06/04/93 ITALY -HELL, IT
0482 Runaway Train....... 09/04/93 KUNGFU THEATRE, RI
0483 Hit Man............. 03/05/93 NEW BRUNSWICK, NJ
0484 kreutzer............ 05/19/93 VANCOUVER, WA
0485 Voton............... 06/15/93 SIR ___*****, AZ
0486 Dag Zalhastra....... 09/11/93 WYOMISSING, PA
0487 callie.............. 05/23/93 ATLANTA, GA
0488 Will Dandy.......... 05/25/93 LEEDS, AL
0489 Q junior............ 05/23/93 PHILADELPHIA, PA
0490 speed............... 05/30/93 BRUNSWIC, GA
0491 the punisher........ 01/24/93 OMAHA, NE
0492 eraserex............ 05/25/93 LEAGUE CITY, TX
0493 Jaybird............. 05/25/93 MONTGOMERY, AL
0494 Rotten Flesh........ 06/05/93 BILOXI, MS
0495 anesthesia.......... 06/27/93 LAS VEGAS, NV,NV
0496 Silicon Jesus....... 08/08/93 DES MOINES, IA
0497 The Deth Vegetable.. 10/25/93 TEWKSBURY, MA
0498 e-vil............... 05/28/93 E-VILLE, CA
0499 Napalm.............. 06/03/93 ROME, ITALY,IT
0500 Dave Ferret......... 07/11/93 LEXINGTON, MA
0501 lady darque......... 09/08/93 NORTH HOLLYWOOD, CA
0502 j................... 05/30/93 NCL, UK,XX
0503 ZeroZero............ 06/01/93 PORTLAND, OR
0504 Mr. Peanut.......... 06/03/93 AGOURA, CA
0505 EL MIASMO........... 06/22/93 PARSIPPANY, NJ
0506 Datastream Cowboy... 06/15/93 LONDON, UK,UK
0507 brain tumor......... 01/14/93 DRAGONFIRE, NJ
0508 digital hitler...... 07/22/93 ., CA
0509 john harper......... 01/18/93 RICHMOND, VA
0510 DOCTOR.............. 03/04/93 STOUGHTON, MA
0511 deadleader.......... 01/21/93 EL PASO, TX
0512 Bard................ 06/06/93 SIOUX FALLS, SD
0513 Ghost Rider......... 03/18/93 HATTIESBURG, MS
0514 Argus Panoptes...... 01/26/93 TORONTO, ON
0515 badkarma............ 08/22/93 DESPLAINE, IL
0516 Orgoreyn............ 02/19/92 NORFOLK, VA
0517 The Philosopher..... 10/15/93 SAN DIEGO, CA
0518 Mr. Hyde............ 10/12/93 AU BBS, VA
0519 The Metal Rooster... 06/04/93 HEALDSBURG, CA
0520 Transderm-Nitro..... 10/23/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0521 Delusion............ 07/04/93 NOWHERE, NC
0522 Bounty B0b.......... 09/10/92 OCEANSIDE, CA
0523 turbo............... 01/20/93 ORANGE, CA
0524 Dr.
0525 the raider.......... 06/05/93 PERTH, WA
0526 crazy k............. 11/10/91 SPRINGFIELD, MO
0527 Trader.............. 07/24/91 ELKINS PARK, PA
0528 Butter Fly.......... 07/30/93 CHICAGO, IL
0529 Mister Monochrome... 08/21/91 CHICAGO, IL
0530 major7.............. 10/21/93 NEW YORK, NY
0531 shade............... 06/06/93 SAN JOSE, CA
0532 Phearless........... 09/13/93 DEGERFORS, SW
0533 Corpse.............. 06/14/93 LIVERMORE, CA
0534 Psycho S. Illusion.. 10/11/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0535 KILLER BOB.......... 06/19/92 HOUSTON, TX
0536 The Grom............ 08/15/93 NAPLES, FL
0537 H8PULICE............ 06/07/93 NEW YORK, NY
0538 MacGyver............ 06/07/93 BOSTON, MA
0539 Vato................ 06/18/93 LAKE HIAWATHA, NJ
0540 Lurking Grue........ 06/08/93 CITADELPHIA, CA
0541 Hellrazor........... 06/15/93 DALLAS, PA
0542 dumbshit............ 08/17/93 ARLINGTON, VA
0543 Axiom Codex......... 09/07/92 PHUN LINE, CA
0544 mal the youngest.... 08/18/93 MILWAUKEE, WI
0545 James Dean.......... 03/03/92 STROUDSBURG, PA
0546 Scabbard............ 01/22/92 CHESAPEAKE, VA
0547 cyberdogs........... 08/14/93 CINCINNATI, OH
0548 Scorpion............ 08/05/93 NORFOLK, VA
0549 Moriarty............ 08/16/91 SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA,NS
0550 Charles O'Donovan... 06/09/93 RICHMOND, VA
0551 Spazm............... 06/09/93 CRAWFORDSVILLE, IN
0552 Fortune............. 08/19/93 JENSEN BCH, FL
0553 Hanover Fiste....... 10/24/93 RANSOM CANYON, TX
0554 Microwire........... 10/15/93 DAYTONA, FL
0555 one meg cacher...... 05/12/93 CROWBAR HOTEL, TX
0556 Doctor Who.......... 10/21/93 MASSACHUSETTS, MA
0557 Freak Boy........... 08/18/93 TUCSON, AZ
0558 the umbra........... 08/24/93 PARAMUS, NJ
0559 Urban Sprawl........ 08/21/93 NB, CA,CA
0560 The Akkadian........ 08/02/91 CLAREMORE, OK
0561 Scooter............. 11/08/91 LAND OF KARRUS, PA
0562 The Scribe.......... 05/20/92 BOULDER, CO
0563 Crank............... 08/20/93 PHIL, PA
0564 Aegean.............. 09/12/93 AMARILLO, TX
0565 Sm.................. 10/02/93 ELSEWHERE, NY
0566 Optik Nerve......... 09/20/93 WEST CHESTER, PA
0567 creepy crawl........ 08/21/93 SAN FRAN, DK
0568 Phallacy............ 08/26/93 MTN LKS, NJ
0569 Machiavelli......... 08/25/93 LEE, MA
0570 The Raging Golem.... 09/22/91 MCLEAN, VA
0571 digital man......... 01/20/93 ELKA PARK, NY
0572 The Raver........... 06/05/93 CITY, ST
0573 Master Satin........ 01/24/93 ELKA PARK, NY
0574 jaff................ 01/22/93 MILLERS FALLS, MA
0575 Grampent............ 10/24/93 D/FW, TX
0576 GOD................. 03/03/93 NEW YORK, NY
0577 Squinky............. 09/07/93 WARWICK, RI
0578 Billy Joe Jim Bob... 01/22/93 SAN ANTONIO, TX
0579 inferno............. 01/23/93 PORTER, TX
0580 Hacksaw............. 01/27/93 LHD, CA
0581 Dr. Fate............ 01/24/93 OTTAWA, ON
0582 The Purple Sage..... 01/24/93 TERMANL VEL, WI
0583 Hermans Head........ 01/25/93 SEATTLE, WA
0584 Polka Prince........ 01/25/93 GLENDALE, CA
0585 Soul Blazer......... 03/20/93 CHICO, CA
0586 SLUG................ 01/27/93 MT LAKES, NJ
0587 Kaerhp.............. 01/31/93 HELL, MN
0588 skrink.............. 01/30/93 BOSTON, MA
0589 Psychosis........... 06/13/93 CLARK, NJ
0590 Sneller Express..... 01/31/93 ALMONTE, ON
0591 armand.............. 06/10/93 V.I.N.E. BBS, KY
0592 bruj0............... 08/13/93 TEXARKANA, TX
0593 Kit Crothers........ 06/11/93 NYC, NY
0594 Phantom Phlegm...... 09/22/93 DEAD HOOK, NY
0595 hypo luxa........... 06/12/93 KILLIGWORTH, CT
0596 Windopain........... 06/12/93 BERGENFIELD, VT
0597 squishy............. 06/12/93 LOUISVILLE, KY
0598 Sticklord........... 09/29/93 BITERVILLE, AX
0599 Crux................ 06/17/93 JAX, FL
0600 Dalamar............. 06/17/93 SARASOTA, FL
0601 boot................ 10/02/93 LNCOLNSHIRE, UK
0602 Trojan-Man.......... 10/19/93 SHALLOWHELL, TX
0603 DieHard............. 06/17/93 COCKEYSVILLE, MD
0604 Wunker.............. 10/19/93 BOSTON, MA
0605 control............. 06/19/93 DAYTON, KY
0606 MANGLE.............. 10/04/93 LOS ANGELES, CA
0607 sId................. 10/22/93 BOSTON, MA
0608 CYBERSURFER......... 07/30/93 OVERLAND PARK, KS
0609 Nexus-6............. 06/24/93 NAPLES, FL
0610 The Shadow.......... 10/12/93 NEW JERSEY, NJ
0611 lestat.............. 06/24/93 MILWAUKEE, WI
0612 XtC................. 08/07/93 COLUMBIA CITY, IN
0613 Stile............... 06/29/93 TSUNAMI, LTD, CA
0614 Hellpop............. 07/25/93 TAMPA, FL
0615 dude................ 07/01/93 INDIANAPOLIS, IN
0616 Mad ChemIst......... 10/05/93 BEAVERCREEK, OH
0617 Harley Matrixon..... 07/01/93 RADFORD, VA
0618 Crash............... 08/19/93 BROOKLYN, NY
0619 Mr. Lizard.......... 07/02/93 RADFORD, VA
0620 TeraCrush........... 07/07/93 LEWISBURG, TN
0621 Keith Allen......... 07/08/93 CHICAGO, IL
0622 crowbot............. 07/07/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0623 Flashlance.......... 07/08/93 MCHENRY, IL
0624 steve ignorant...... 10/26/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0625 Tori Spelling....... 07/12/93 BOSTON, MA
0626 K O/S............... 08/08/93 NEW YORK, NY
0627 SHYE PSYCHOMANCER... 07/13/93 CRAW., IN
0628 sir willie.......... 07/20/93 KITCHENER, ON
0629 Morphine............ 07/25/93 URBANA, IL
0630 zardoz.............. 07/26/93 HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA
0631 CaptBly............. 08/25/93 PUNTA GORDA, FL
0632 Diamond Back........ 07/31/93 ALEXANDRIA, VA
0633 znote............... 07/20/93 GLASGOW, SC
0634 Vidalia............. 10/18/93 CHICAGO, IL
0635 heroinbus........... 08/04/93 THE NECROPOLIS, OH
0636 popzikle toe........ 08/30/93 SMITHTOWN, NY
0637 Tiberius Octavian... 07/22/93 LUBBOCK, TX
0638 scotty.............. 07/25/93 L.A, CA
0639 Black Angus......... 08/27/93 WASHINGTON, DC
0640 Money Man........... 07/21/93 SUNNYVALE, CA
0641 Majestic Interlude.. 08/27/93 AUSTIN, TX
0642 Wolf................ 08/31/93 MONTREAL, PQ
0643 Inanna.............. 09/09/93 SANTA CRUZ, CA
0644 Prince of Thieves... 08/31/93 VANCOUVER, BC
0645 WILCASA............. 09/03/93 SULPHUR, LA
0646 suicidal failure.... 09/04/93 AIRDRIE, UK
0647 trillian............ 09/04/93 WGTN, YP
0648 BASHER.............. 09/04/93 LONDON, UK
0649 Andrew Partington... 09/10/93 MANCHESTER, UK
0650 Willy............... 09/30/93 NEW YORK, NY
0651 radagast............ 09/12/93 DUBLIN, OH
0652 CAPTAIN FRITZ....... 09/07/93 AIKEN, SC
0653 demon............... 10/24/93 HUNTER, NY
0654 TheLady............. 10/14/93 SANDY SPRINGS, SC
0655 JOHN JONES.......... 09/30/93 JACKSONVILLE, FL
0656 jesse c............. 10/03/93 ATLANTA GA, GA
0657 wox................. 10/11/93 MIAMI, FL
0658 Witchdoc............ 10/11/93 TORONTO, ON
0659 Herd Beast.......... 10/28/93 TEL-AVIV, XX
0660 aga can............. 10/08/93 NYC, NY
0661 Abyssmal Euphoria... 10/27/93 CNRT, ON
0662 deicide............. 10/25/93 VANCOUVER, BC
0663 Aura................ 10/17/93 BOSTON, MA
0664 john woodard........ 10/15/93 ATTLEBORO, MA
0665 thule............... 10/26/93 LEOMINSTER, MA
0666 Pebble.............. 10/15/93 HEALDSBURG, CA
0667 Pulley.............. 10/16/93 CAMBRIDGE, MA
0668 hump................ 10/14/93 BOSTON, MA
0669 Dune................ 10/15/93 MIAMI, FL
0670 grim*reaper......... 10/13/93 BOSTON, MA
0671 wedge............... 10/17/93 COLUMBIA , MO
0672 aceway.............. 10/21/93 BOSTON, MA
0673 Invisible Insanity.. 10/26/93 PURPLE HELL, TX
0674 Harlequin........... 10/16/93 CORPUS CHRISTI, TX
0675 GMAN................ 10/17/93 BOSTON, MA
0676 Reid................ 10/20/93 AARDVARK BURROW, NY
0677 Jim Morrison........ 10/21/93 SELBYVILLE, DE
0678 ironwood............ 10/23/93 MORAGA, CA
0679 Faust............... 10/26/93 SEATTLE, WA
0680 Lucifer............. 10/27/93 OCALA, FL
I bet you hit page down a lot.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Taken from the sekret mail of Goat Blowers Anonymous BBS.
dATE: 3:06 am Tue Mar 28, 1995 nUMBAH : 45 oF 47
fR0M: Drunkfux bASE : Private Mail
t0 : Black Francis rEFER #: n0NE
sUBJ: gIMME aKZEZ, d00D! rEPLIEZ: n0NE
sTAT: dELETED oRIGIN : l0KAL
dfx-fb.713
Standardized Lame Feedback Krapola v4.0
Handle : Drunkfux The Almighty K-RAD Eggo Warrior
Name : Macho Man Ocean J. Howell (not of Gilligan's Island)
Age : 378,432,000 Seconds
Occupation : PiMP dAddY
Phone Nombre : 713-867-9544
Been a m0deM WaRRi0R since 1978. My first board was up in 1979 and was
featured in a joint article in both Esquire and the SF Chronicle.
Sysop of K0DE AB0DE / Metalland Southwest / Regurgitated Abortion Clinic
(or whatever you feel like calling it) @ 713-39-K0DES. cDc, CuD, dFx,
HoHoCon, K-RAP, Neon Knights, NIA, Phrack, ToneLoc, uXu, Video Vindicator
Whirrled HQ. Running Obv/2 on a 28.8 Dualie and 4 gigs. Warez, Carts,
Utils, Art, 89,982 T-Files, Necrophelia, Anime, Kidporn, Cellular, Scanner
Mods, Computer/Telco Security, etc.
Run HoHoCon, the world's largest computer underground conference and
convention which happens every year right here in the yeehaw state. You can
read more about it (and ME!@*!&!!) in past, current and upcoming issues of
Time, PC World, Unix World, NY Times, LA Times, SF Chronicle, Boston Globe,
Boardwatch, 2600, bOING bOING, Gray Areas, Nuts N Volts, Sysadmin, CFP,
Computer Security Monthly, Adam Film World (Monthly Adult Video Guide..
seriously), Vibe, Spin, Houston Press, Phrack, CuD, WV, etc.
Other 713 systems I am on include Street Spydrs, Cycle Sluts From Hell,
Nocturnal Emmissions, The Keep, Earthshaker, Darker Image, Fantasia/Crewel
Lye, Last Byte, SourceNet, Red Sector, Farm Road 666 (co), Transendental
Regurgitation, Burning Inferno, Mainstream, Byte Me, Bad Board, USiS and
Beyond Vision.
Non 713 systems : Boner's Domain (314), Nihilism (517), Demon Roach
Underground (806), Insomnia (916), Road Runner (510), Exile OMS 3 (UK +71),
House Of God (Eur. +31), Unknown Pleasures (UK +71), Midpoint Void (303),
2112 (518), Digital Underground (301), VoiD (902), etc.
713 l0zErZ that will vouch or die : Lord Zephyr, Obsidian Knight,
Stingray, Hi Fi Del, Surfin Cow, Oyl Patch, Spock (Zaphod), Mistmaster, Doc
Holiday (the real DH from LoD), Bonehead, Kream, Micro^]], Mr. Man, Dark
Spyre, Absalom, 8-Ball, Lithium, The Phorman, Hunter, Tank, Neuromancer,
Kamikaze, etc.
Hopefully, this should cover anything you might want to know.
Uh.. yeah.. that'll do. Basically I run the world.
- Drunkfux . cDc . dFx . NK . Phrack . K-RAP . HoHoCon . PoP/FoF . E.A.S.Y.
dfx@usis.com / drunkfux@snes.com / drunkfux@hoho.con.com / dfx@fc.net
Mail read (?=help) : U
Renegade User Editor [94 of 94]
A. User name : DRUNKFUX L. Security : 50
B. Real name : Orenthal J. Simpson M. D Security: 50
C. Address : Ic#1067892, La County Jail N. AR:A-----------------------
D. City/State: way too elite for you! O. AC:----------/----
E. Zip code : 90210 P. Sex/Age : M86 (10/31/08)
F. SysOp note: R. Phone num : 713 867 9544
G. max. baud : 2 T. Last/1st : 03/28/95
H. affils. : Phrack, cDc, ATI, KRAP V. Locked out: Inactive
I. reference : Some fag.. m0gel W. Password : [Not Shown]
J. Status : [DEL] [TRP OFF] [LOCK] [ALRT] X. :
K. QWK setup : ZIP Y. Start Menu:
1. Call records- TC:1 TT:6 CT:0 TL:73 TB:0
2. Mail records- PB:0 PV:0 FB:1 WT:0
3. File records- DL:0-0k UL:0-0k DT:0-0k
4. Pref records- EM:Auto CS:No PS:No CL:Yes ED:F/S
5. Subs records- CR:0 DB:0 BL:0 ED:Never ET:
Select item: [
Renegade User Editor [93 of 94]
A. User name : WIZARD OF ID L. Security : 50
B. Real name : Kevin I M. D Security: 50
C. Address : Dallas N. AR:A-----------------------
D. City/State: that ace guy O. AC:----------/----
E. Zip code : 75248-0000 P. Sex/Age : M17 (10/20/77)
F. SysOp note: R. Phone num : 214-248-1142
G. max. baud : 28.8 (seems more like 21.6 th T. Last/1st : 03/27/95
H. affils. : Yup. V. Locked out: Inactive
I. reference : Morpheus,.. and you. W. Password : [Not Shown]
J. Status : [DEL] [TRP OFF] [LOCK] [ALRT] X. :
K. QWK setup : ZIP Y. Start Menu:
1. Call records- TC:2 TT:13 CT:1 TL:76 TB:0
2. Mail records- PB:0 PV:0 FB:1 WT:0
3. File records- DL:0-0k UL:0-0k DT:0-0k
4. Pref records- EM:Auto CS:Yes PS:Yes CL:Yes ED:F/S
5. Subs records- CR:0 DB:0 BL:0 ED:Never ET:
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
From : THE NIGHTSTALKER (#147)
Date : 03/27/93 12:01:07 AM
Ah, yes. Asmodeus Rex. What an asshole! He spent hours and hours plaguing
this old, somewhat crippled woman who was running a BBS on her C=128.
And when he'd get caught, he'd get all upset. What a luser!
(of course, I'm assuming that it's Rex who's the one carrying on and
dissing my good name. For what it's worth, I was indeed voted into this
august band of ne'er do wells, malcontents, and genial perverts some years
ago, and have had several of my t-files included in various cDc releases.)
But I guess that's not good enough for some of these |<ewl deweds from RI,
that hotbed of the Computer Underground. Argh!
In any event, I'm SURE you can tell how broken up I am over all this.
Don't apologise for incoherant messages, I rather like them, myself. I can
always use the intellectual stimulation of, "What the FUCK is going on
about?" (life is pretty dull and boring here in the vermin infested
crotch of New England.)
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
WHY I HATE FIDONET by VisioKnight
Written 10/21/94
Let's examine the rotting pinnacle of modern day computer mail society;
no, not Usenet; no, not RIME; that aging fat dinosaur of a system known
as FIDONET.
Right now, you may be thinking, "Hey! Shut the fuck up, I LIKE Fidonet!".
You may also be thinking about molesting aborted babies. The two activities
are about on the same level of thinking.
Enough with my ranting; let's do an in-depth examination of what Fidonet
is, and why YOU should hate it too.
1) Fidonet is designed to be free. It isn't.
Let's see. Free mail, free communications, free speech. No. None of the
above. Unless you a) Own Telco, b) Own a Satellite Dish, or c) are
independently wealthy, you will need to either call long-distance (usually
the case) to a hub, or pay a local person to call there for you.
This is a big needle up the ass. I've seen people charge as much as
$5 per message area per month. Yea. Blow me.
Free speech. Uh-uh. Almost every single damn fidonet echo is moderated
by this idiot designated as the moderator by a bunch of voting pricks. The
moderator's sole purpose is to negate any pleasurable conversation you may
be expecting to have in his godlike domain. Stray 001 degree from his
set guidelines, and you can get your whole system banned from the echo, or
from Fidonet. Fun, right.
2) Fidonet is designed to be fun. It isn't.
Ever met a person who posts 7 messages in the STARWARS echo wanting to know
what the hell Star Trek is and why everyone in the Star Trek echo talks
about it? Ever met a person who thinks TEEN is a child-porn echo? Ever
met the most foolish person in the world? Join fidonet.
And lastly;
3) Fidonet is supposed to be modern. Infer this sentence.
Theoretically, Fidonet shouldn't work. Systems all over the world tossing
mail to hubs. Hmm.
Fidonet also takes up an extremely large amount of disk space.
Fidonet is full of trendy people.
So, if you're a sysop, do your users a favor and become a member of, say,
an interesting network. Leave fidonet to my anus.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: 9:58 pm Sat Dec 4, 1993 Number : 126 of 135
From: Darwin Base : The Rathskellar
To : Grim Reaper Refer #: 125
Subj: Being elite. Replies: 3
Stat: Normal Origin : Local
GR> I think i was allways under the impression it meant:"Supah, above all..
GR> Highy prized" That sorta thing. Am i wrong?
You know what being elite in RI means? Being elite in RI means that you
kiss a few certain peoples asses. Being elite means pretending that
netwars actually mean something. Being elite means pretending that wares
are actually worth something more than getting games. Being elite means
that even if you don't *READ* OR *PRODUCE* text, if you have a lot of it,
then you're cool. Being elite means commiting telephone fraud for no real
reason except to talk to other people in other cities because for some
reason or the other you are incapable of finding people to relate to in
your world. Being elite means thinking that you are *BETTER* than people
simply because you happen to be a bit more mature or a bit more seasoned,
or a bit more experienced. Any moron with enough time on his hands can
hack. Any moron with enough time on his hands can phreak. Any moron who
can act like the powers that be can be ELITE.
Is that what you want to be? Someone who lies about how he truly feels
because he doesn't want to be rejected by the powers that be?
Here's what it comes to : I just plain don't give a fuck anymore.
If Soth thinks that he's elite, fine. That's not something to aspire to.
-dWi
how can you judge me, if you've never taken a walk in my shoes?
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Msg #: [32/33] Base: The Breeding Ground
Date : Wed 09 Feb 1994 5:46p Stat: Public
From : The Disciple Of The Seventh Sabbath #6
To : All
Title: ...
My apologies to Identity Crisis, who has already heard of what I am
about to tell you on the Cyber Cafe BBS. I think it's worth the repition.
I have just heard of the most horrendous offense I have ever come
across, and let me tell you that I have looked into many. Perhaps it's so
horrible because it's so "close to home," so to speak. Not in distance,
but in worlds. And I am making so reference to Earth.
To begin.
About two years ago, in the United Staes - I can't for the life of me
remember where it took place even though I just heard of it not ten minutes
ago - four young girls - 15, 16, 16, and 17 - lured another young girl,
12, with a name sounding similar with "Shanda," into an abandoned house
near her home. They tortured her. Brutally. Please believe me when I
say "brutally"; it was BRUTAL. As an example... They sodomized her with
a jagged metal bar. For those of you who do not know what that is, it's
defined as either anal sex with a member of the same gender, or "anal
copulation with instruments of animals," a definition taken almost
directly from the dictionary.
For SEVEN FUCKING HOURS they kept her there, torturing her, all four
taking their turns.
They through her in the trunk of their car and drove to another, more
secluded site in the "boonies," where they proceded to drench her in
gasoline and set fire to her. As they drove off, they realized that the
fire was beginning to die, so they drove back and made sure they got the
job done. Then they went to McDonald's for breakfast.
[Shanda] died of smoke inhalation. Meaning she lived for quite awhile
while afire before she actually died.
An obvious complete lack of regard for human life.
For two years these people insisted on blaming it on a mental disorder,
though all four who were questioned by the prison's psycholist were
completely rational, calm, and uncaring.
One of the mothers of the killers admitted that two of the four had
just recently had excorcists performed on them for demon possession. Now
either these people are just stupid, or they're not making mention of it
for a reason.
EVERY one of these acts of the killers are taken WORD FOR WORD out of
the Satanic Bible, coming from one who has read it and knows of the shit
he has in its pages.
In a word.
Satanism. I'm almost convinced of it.
To anyone who has any more information on what happened, please leave
me email. I have to wonder if I'm right or not. It seems too... Easy to
blame a disorder for it.
And why, after all this shit, do I still feel sorrow for these four
girls and hope that the judgement put on them is as mercyful as the LACK
of mercy that they displayed on [Shanda].
Sometimes I wonder how the fuck my mind works.
Thank you for your time.
Return to your own worlds, please.
-Sorrow.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Sun, 03 Sep 2000 20:52:22 EDT
From: "Meg Dean" <dayglo_faerie@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
How have I changed in the past six years? I'll tell you how...I've
gotten pissed off at the fact that just ANY moron can come onto the net
and fucking set up a website worshipping miss britney spears or that god
awful 'nsuck. Not to mention the fact that they turn up their noses at
something as brilliant as Hoe, deeming it 'unhip, and outdated'.
Bah to all of them!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Fri, 8 Sep 2000 02:32:16
From: lastboss@gay.com (scared and white)
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE MEDIA BREAKING NEWS
CHECK IT: http://www.enteract.com/~ryan/madcap
i am HUYRBERY OF MAD|CAP| so SHOW MUCH PORPS TO THIS BUTTA
check those DATES mythafucka yo fucking Up my fables: GORGE ORWELL wroth
1984 to proohpecie the begini of MAD***CAP****** thheres a moral to the
story its your MOM so fucking GAY mshe made corobera comander take off his
mask you bitches put the ARG in GARGOYLE
fuck you fuck you yuor portraits are on the POISIN BOTTLES you HAVE ONe
thiingn me and chuck never did and thats GIRLS how you do tha t theres a
sale in the phillipins?
make you checks payabo FOO
madCAP started your shit and yo u bitches tryed ti steal Pelle and Dr.
Carlos and Rafalano
nazi-boto gona send .ARJs with babd huffman to you with whale VIRUS
cumgobblin your atari 2600 icon collcetion selling isos to highschools
your family is on shareware.com they got downloaded intho the new BTTF
(BACK TO T HE FUTUR) Delorian i ntheh GARBAGE
I FUCKT YOUR ARMY
| Logon -[12:35 am Fri Nov 19, 1993]- (2400 baud)
BLOOD WIZZ GON sen you back to reagen years
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
RAMBLINGS ABOUT THE LIFE OF A STUPID COMPUTER NERD WHO FAILS AT EVERYTHING
or HI I'M ROB THE MORON
Well, my full name is Robert William Alexander Pascual.
I am 16 years old.
I have long brown hair and brown eyes (subjects me to screams of
faggot and pussy around all the retards my age).
I stare at a computer for the majority of the day, don't fall
asleep until 5 AM and wake up around 4PM. I cheated out of highschool
with the CHSPE and now am a bum. Whatever the fuck all that means anyways.
On random Bulletin boards and some of the shittier parts of the
internet I have had many shitty aliases: Rob (isn't that one brilliant?),
Catman (retarded name I got in elementary school because I liked cats),
Lostcat, Kalacus, and probably like tens of others that I forgot about.
Anyone in 408 remember The Vortex? (hey zerosouls if you are
reading this e-mail me) Bulletin boards officially died here when that
board went out. Where I first read hoe a few years back as a matter of
fact...Reading text files was probably when my brain realized that the
world isn't a happy place where bunnies hop around and people love each
other.... consequently, I ended up become athiest and pissing off my
parents... I later become wiccan and pissed them off more. I finally am
where I am now which is that religion is fucking obnoxious and it just
causes many people to get killed and tortured and that all religions
suck ass.
God damn it no one understands me.
my parents think I'm a fucking bum... god damn it but the only
place that I could get a fucking job is the 7-11 and I don't want to work
somewhere stupid like that. I'm not going to learn shit from that except
that people like to smoke their lungs out until they die of cancer, and
that people for some reason enjoy getting totally wasted on alcohol.
I hate relationships... I totally love this chick but like the
relationship part sucks, I wish she would like spend more time with me and
I wish she would stop getting jealous over girls I don't even like.
what was I rambling about? I dunno. oh well... I'm gonna talk
about my trenchcoat... my trenchcoat is so sexy...I love how people don't
fuck with me or call me pussy or anything after that whole columbine
thing...way I see if someone is retarded enough to think I'm going to
shoot them up then they can believe it.
Speaking of columbine, who the fuck cares? what like 10 people or
something died? I wonder how many retarded middle eastern people kill
each other in stupid jihads and shit like that. I wonder how many die
of starvation. but no, this was different. these were your perfect
little rich white boys that don't do things like that... whatever
by the way I'm not rich... my dad is a fucking cheapass. my first
computer was a C64 and 2400 baud modem. it stayed that way until like
about three years ago when I got a 386... ooh wow. 2400's are so
fucking horrid. You can watch the text scroll on to the screen. and damn
that C64 didn't even have 80 columns, so it faked it with a fucking
4x8 font that burned my eyes out and made the ANSI suck.
It saddens me to hear that hoe is going to die... I loved it...
and still do...to all you fags, child molesters, porn stars (i dunno),
k-rad hacker types, and other freakass people that wrote for HOE:
I love you. hehe, my favorite was the poetic terrorist... anyways!
WHERE THE FUCK DID ANSI GO???? STUPID NUTSCRAPE AND INTERNET...god
I liked online when it was just the BBS's and the freaks... my mom and
some old lady down the street weren't online being dumb like they are
now... and shit whats up with .com this e-that? hey zerosouls...no
disrespect but get your ass back from college or wherever and start the
scene up again... it died when you left.
GOODBYE HOE...MAY YOU REST IN BLOODY PIECES FOR ALL OF ETERNITY
- Rob pascual (rob_the_insomniac@yahoo.com)
P.S. - Seriously, though, zerosouls if you're reading this please bug me,
and anyone else out there is welcome to say hi.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
To answer your question about THE HISTORY OF ANSI GRAPHICS, we've decided
to ask RaDMaN of ACiD PRODUCTIONS about it.
Interview conducted in '94. Here goes.
Radman: "I saw some ansis by the <AAA> artist Chips Ahoy, the first guy who
actually gave me the idea that ANSI could be used as a medium for
visual arts. At the time ('88) I was just another lamer with their
own h/p/a group, and I drew up an ansi logo combining like two
colors with the shading blocks, a logo for "HEaT", this stumbled
into the right hands (the president of <AAA>), and I was quickly
accepted."
"Back then there was no ansi-art scene, and I didn't really see any
difference between warez and p/h/a, except that you needed a
bigger hard drive to be a major warez affiliated board, and you
didn't need to carry text files. Other than that, I felt they
all went hand in hand."
"Well, after a while in <AAA> the group was growing stagnant minus
the two other most active artists that were "recruited" into AAA.
It was a unanimous decision that a newer more structured group was
needed by myself."
"I don't feel pressure, or allow any pressure to be put upon me. Of
course tho I see the competition, and I thrive upon it. It is
healthy for groups and practically necessary for their existence
and growth to have competition. When I see the little alternative
groups, I see pluses and minuses. The pluses are such that they
bring out new up-and-coming artists that many people may have never
seen other wise, that they help expand the ever growing art scene,
and I also think some of them remind us where most of us came from.
The downsides are that some people get too carried away, a lot of
them are built upon hype and propaganda, many never get to or past
pack one, some of them can tear apart what could have or should
have been potentially good groups. I could really go on forever
arguing for both sides."
"I've learned that alot of people can ruin the scene for themselves
by taking it too far or too seriously. I've seen alot of good
friends and acquaintances quit the scene over silly reasons. The
worst I see are people with their scene pessimism, that spend their
free time complaining about how much the scene sucks. If you are
that deep into the scene, that it actually DEPRESSES you, REALLY,
then you need to go outside and take a break."
"There are tons of great ansi mags still in production, some of the
greatest (in my opinion of course) are Continuum, Bitchslap, and
for the light-hearted Emigre is very cool ansi mag, and has a great
interface. The worst ansi mags out there are the review mags that
proclaim they have figured out the CORRECT and right way to review
and they are so high up on themselves they believe they are the
bottom line and last word of all that can be said on critiquing
artwork, and in turn these usually turn out to be the shoddiest
mags."
"The scene is great, the only thing I would like to see is the
mental separation of different underground scenes and the negative
connotations some may hold, and the preconceptions help between
different ignoramuses in various scenes. I figure if you give
respect, you will get respect."
I can't believe you read that, you fucking gimp.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2000 00:53:14 +1200
From: "Andrew Calder" <viggen@zfree.co.nz>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Wow, damn pity about the breakup thing... I only found your site
yesterday, too. Here's a file. Expect more later.
"Fun with Shopping carts"
by Viggen
Most of you will have seen at least one shopping cart in a place
where it probably shouldn't be--on top of someones car, upside down in
the middle of a road, in several pieces underneath a bridge, or even on
top of playground equipment which has lots of fresh graffiti all over it.
You've probably also had races using them. Shopping carts have many
more potential uses than just as mere racing vehicles though. They can be
an excellent source of fun if you can't afford a can of gasoline, some
matches and a copy of your neighbour's house key.
Shopping carts are kinda heavy, which means they'll cause a lot of
damage when dropped off the side of your local mall's rooftop carpark onto
a red honda prelude below. Shitting on the bonnet afterwards can make for
a few laughs, too, as can stealing the car's stereo and selling it so you
can buy more drugs.
They will also cause a bit of damage if you leave them upside down
(so they don't slide away so easily) in the middle of the road, just round
a blind corner that people have a habit of speeding round, though they'll
usually only cause minor bumper damage. Depends on the car.
When dropped from the highest points of bridges onto hard surfaces,
the basket bits will sometimes break off, and occasionally the wheels will
break, too.
If you have a few stolen ones sitting around at your place, another
thing you can do is to get drunk, take them to the primary school (that's
elementary school for all you Americans) down the road from you and put
them upside down on big wooden poles which are on the top of the school
play-fort-thingy. Take marker pens with you, too, and write shit like
"Show your dick to the girls" and "Put carrots in your ass and do it in
class" everywhere, as well as drawing pictures of naked people.
There you have it!
Shopping carts can be a lot of fun if you're bored.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2000 05:48:12
From: "GrAnD1ZeR" <grand1zer43@mediaone.net>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
a few months ago me and some dudes were trading posts at egroups.com
under the group BigProblems where you can find a whole bevy of pornographic
stories about music theory!
------
So today I'm walking around the red line, the braintree station,
and I'm blitzed. You heard me right, Puff Daddy, I was pissa stoned, and
ruminative. It's like this. A friend of mine, whose name happens to
be 'neurotic lesbian telephone morissette' is making a game based on
several precepts.
1. the map is built first, by the players, out of hexagons (6 sided
polygons) and each polygon can have, on each of its six sides either an
arrow pointing out, one pointing in, or blank. The polygons can be held
together in a tesselated fashion, but in order for a piece place to be
legal one of its own arrows must have positive polarity i.e. must point in
the same direction.
2. once the map is done being placed, and scored (scoring not yet
determined), the pieces come out. The pieces are either positive, or
negative (indicating whether they go with, or against the current).
So I propose a computer model which will run (roughly) as follows:
1. pray to god 'alanis morissette pampers dildo lesbian'
2. make a structure of 'piece' including: sides[6] and neighbor states
[x][y]
3. make a structure called map. the map structure array ought to
contain a char array. the char array will be linear as follows:
given (x, y) a whole bunch of these to describe a grid, make a list
of characters that stands for every x,y, saving space. make the map
64X64 because there is a multiplication that allows the x and y in
question to morph into the number value of what we want accessed in
the list.
4. tough enough? aight. there is only one function needed to access
any given piece via the char pointers through the multiplication bit
shift thing. you take x and y. they are zero. now we make a list
map[x-1][y]//1
map[x-1][y+1]//2
map[x][y+]//3
map[x][y]//4
map[x][y+1]//5
map[x+1][y]//6
map[x+1][y+1]//7
all you have to do is put the x and the y of the pointed to piece
into each following transformations. in order, you'll get:
1,2
3,4,5
6,7
now, i'm telling you THAT so's i can tell you this.
I am ripshit wasted. At the T. I'm looking at the bricks.
thinking of how a hexagonal map is rows and cols where
1 2 3 4 5
1 2 3 4 5
the numbers are a little crooked. I look at the bricks. Guess what
the bricks were doing. Yup. Exactly what I was thinking about. I scan over
the bricks. That's the map. Freely accessible. I make a 'node' from one
brick. My brain kicks for a second as I gather its neighbors into a
pattern. I start walking around with my power, casting nodes here and
thar. New England architecture is terrible. There is an invariable point
where the weight of the train, a leak and frost heaves have combined to
ruin one specific part of bricks. Understanding that I am in one of my
'states' and probably under light self hypnosis, I proceed toward the
broken bricks, because that is a lot more like the way that my personal
talent as a programmer works- broken, unprofessional, plus historically
I know that a self-hypnotized state aided by a psychotropic chemical like
marijuana, it is important to break out of the bricks while being of the
bricks, cause there's one more thing to see. One brick, split down the
middle, perfectly bisects the up and down neighbors. So I double the grid.
I hope that I have just successfully proven the might and authority
of 'janice morissette pampers lesbian' and 'new york port terminal
bus station authority'
JESES, JUSES, LIE DOWN UPON THE WOOD AND BE PIERCED
yoyo look at the mesh matrix!
who dat?
Dokta shepagon
starring:
1 2
3 4 5 as HEXAGONAL NODE
6 7
and x,y as MAP COORDINATES
and STATICCHARPTR as the wacky list referencee to
MAP AND PIECE INFO.
also HIDDEN MATRIX FRIEND
and reintroducing THE MAJOR ROOT NOTE
and HIS BAND, THE MODETTES!
LYJIN
CHRISTIAN
BLACK-SABBATH
MILES DAVIS
MAJOR PENTATONIC
MIXO-LYJIN
'OUTSIDE' JAZZ IDEAS
so every two points (DWORDs) 7 groups- root,2,3,4,5,6,7 ending before
octave. so each piece can have up to six sides, each side containing
1-3 pieces of information. let ANY THREE LEGAL WHITE MAN'S NOTES IN
THE WESTERN 12 TONE SYSTEM be these pieces. Generate them randomly.
Then forget exactly how this idea went.
DOCTOR SHEPTAGON wants you to see his friends
HIDDEN MATRIX FRIEND: YOU CAN TRANSFORM UP TO 64 NOTES FROM A HIGHLY
HACKABLE RANDOM INTEGER GENERATOR, EACH GENERATING A PIECE, WHICH
PIECE IS FED TO THE ACCESSOR RANDOMLY. I WANT TO PUT LYDIAN CHROMATIC
CONCEPTFRIEND IN IT
well, testicle buttplug alanis morissette vagina queen insect!
why didn't you just say so? here is one piece...
piece[randompiecenumber]
has
6 sides
sound[1]the sound can either be no movement or movement right or left
along one point of the 12 tone scale.
sounds[...nsounds] ditto!!
each sound is predetermined by the composer
typedef struct alanis_morisette_chicken_faggot
{
sides[6]//info on sides
neighborstates[6] each side on the map
}piece, *piece_ptr;
char *MAP[64]
and map[x][y] etc etc the whole x+1 y-1 y+1 shit is tricky
so we 'build' pieces.
if pieces are both blank, musical transport is between them is not
moving along a pre-chosen point on a string of consecutive integers. if
they are blocked to one another, they are moving in opposite relative
direction along a twelve-tone list. if consonant, they move along the
same direction.
WHAT THE COMPOSER CONTROLS: every single piece and every single
rest, just as in classical, pre digital composition anal alanis morisette
testicle stuffing
WHAT HE DOES NOT CONTROL: what order of any piece will be accessed
within his node. He has reasonable certainty that notes in the same
piece will be more likely to be played within six iterations of one
another.
WHAT THE PROGRAMMER HAS NOT FIGURED OUT YET:
a lot of picky C linguistics
why the POPEDEVIL will not allow magnetic resonance of ALANIS
MORISETTE chicken laxatives.
how it will play. I see node walking.
AND NOW...
for my next trick and before I commence work on my soon-to-be
epic 'WHY AOL HOMOSEXUALITY IS NOT THE SAME THING AS REALLY BEING GAY' I
will stop going online for more than twelve hours at a time while
incapacitated and have, tomorrow, a refreshing day on no computer,
television, console games on the dreamcast or n64 or the computer, and
relaxing while reading GRAVITY'S RAINBOW for the vagina mutant fatt
roseanna BARR not arnold chicken lesbian.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
AN IMPORTANT & CLIMATIC RHEA FILE TO SERVE AS A PUNCTUATION TO HOE'S DEATH
by Rhea
----- -----
"there are way too many people who write today who should really be,
like, accountants or something."
----- -----
you see, when you become Part of Something, (something BIG, man, like,
BIG big) you give a Part of yourself to that Something and then, like,
both you and the Something are forever changed because of it, -- like,
for the better. you know?
it's one of those things that gives your life meaning.like wearing the
yellow ribbon during the Gulf War, remember? It was more than a piece
of cheap yellow cloth folded a certain way, and when you wore it you
KNEW you were a vessel for a !Higher Cause!, a plea for peace and
victory and oil and pie. All this was wrapped up in one piece of cheap
yellow cloth and it was amazing! It was symbolism!
But wait...
My only regret is that I never progressed enough in
my t-file writing to produce text-based drawings.
But
it isn't over for me, is it? Is this the end? No more
t-file writing for Rhea? Yes, maybe, oh well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hahaha!
[ ]
[ ] /
[ 0 0 ] /
[ ] /
[ ^ ] /
(hell we all gotta [ (_ _) ] start somewhere)
[ ------- ]
[ ]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
still i never
knew it would
end like this
.
I don't remember what the first HOE file I read ever was. I know,
though, that my first impressions of HOE ever were set by whichever
"Reflecks" file i read first, a tale of karaoke, Quarex's thing about
falling in love with a girl on a bench, and, um, some file I forget
all about except something about realizing that people feared nuclear
death in the 80's? If I could remember then find then read (see how
these chains of events work) the file then I'd be able to describe it
less vaguely. But some things will just be LOST FOREVER. (like
Paradise, man. Like Paradise.)
And then there was Gnosis. And then what? These HOE-memory-Chains are
tangled but I guess I eventually started reading everything, not just
random things, and then,
THEN
THEN
THEN
THEN
THEN
THEN
THEN
well, then I thought about actually Writing For HOE myself!
And then I did.
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I did.
And the Rest Is History -- because it's all history now.
ooooooooooooooooo
o o
o Now That's o00
o A Sobering o 00
o Thought!!! o 00
o o 0
o (Works o 0
o Like o 0
o Coffee!) o 00
o o 00
o o00
o00000000000000000o
00000000000000000 (
thisiscalled
com-e-dy
right?
)
What does it MEAN to be "HOE 4 LIPHE," anyway?
Is it like when you cut your forearm with a big
hunting knife and then have your best buddy cut his
too and then clasp arms together tightly over a
campfire, while you watch your co-mingled blood drip
into the flames? Is it like that?
Cause that's, like, SYMBOLISM, man. And symbolism
is powerful stuff, you know; it bonds people together
more tightly than chains. It's like the yellow ribbon!
God Bless America!
I'm sorry, it just makes me a little sad, that's all. So Much To
Learn, So Little Time. But I am changed forever, you see, because I
never used random capital letters for Sarcastic Emphasis before, and
now I do. I don't know how it happened, but it did. Say I was starving
for a style. I didn't know it, but deep down inside me I was saying to
myself, "Gee! My writing is sure boring! Gee! I sure am boring! Gee!
I sure am hungry for a style!"
So when I come across HOE my FATE was SEALED. I was Influenced.
It's kind of funny how it worked out -- and god knows I don't want to keep
this style I'm using now, oh no. But hell, it's something. I am Glad.
No regrets, baby. No regrets.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo
So I gotta protect my oil reserves now, gotta watch my co-mingled blood
run into the sand and --
OH FUCK OH GOD WHAT IF YOUR BLOOD IS
CONTAMINATED! OH SHIT OH GOD WHAT IF
IT WAS CONTAMINATED WITH AIDS! OH MY
FUCKING GOD JESUS SHIT WHAT IF I GET
GET AIDS AND DIE!!!! SHIT SHIT SHIT!
FUCK WHY DID I MAKE THAT CUT OH THIS
IS THE END I KNOW I HAVE AIDS OH GOD
OH FUCK OH GOD FUCK OH YES I'M DEAD.
I think I have matured greatly as a writer because of HOE.
(i don't want to die!! Mom i don't
want to die i just joined the army
cause i didnt want to go to school
and now they done stuck me in this
desert and Ma i miss your pie lots
and sadam hussein is gonna get his
towel-heads to kill me!! help!!!!)
I will press HOE deep to my breast and treasure it always, always always.
At least I will have died for my country, for ma's apple pie and
for freedom from that commie bastard sadam hussein, and whenever
I look at my forearm and see the scar I'll know and remember our
friendship forever, and how our blood dripped into the fire...
...drip drip drip into the fire below
the dancing fire below, the beautiful
entrancing dancing fire below, drip--
-- MmMMmm!!@! Let's make s'mores!@!#!
Hehehehe I get to shoot a cool gun!!@
Bang bang bang die sadam die!@ hehe!!
--------------------o
+ O BanG!!@!#
+ ----------------o
+ /
+ +
+ + \
+ + !
+ +/
____
...So maybe not everything in HOE was good, Good, or "Good."
That's okay. I learned from all the good files, but I also learned from
the crappy ones, especially my own. Yes, I will miss HOE. I only knew it
for a very short time, but no regrets, baby. No regrets. If we part,
we part with a smile and we don't look back, okay, honey? You may not
miss me but I will miss you and maybe someday we'll both look back on
these days and laugh at ourselves and maybe we'll shed a tear or two.
Or maybe not.
But no matter what, man, I promise to wear my yellow ribbon with
pride. The Gulf War was just a war and there's always Georgie JR now
to keep the pride goin', so SO SO SO SO sew your buttons and good luck
in life and love and when you die, chop me up and spit me out and
WHOAHHHHHH that's a little strange there don't you think heh!@# Ow!
"A gentleman ought at all times to exercise a great control over that
itch for writing which sometimes attacks us, and should keep a tight
rein over the strong propensity which one has to display such
amusements; in the frequent anxiety to show their productions, people
are frequently exposed to act a very foolish part."
Well. That about sums it up, eh? Let the end be the end already.
__________
|**======|
|**======| and i had such talent,
|========| too! what a pity.
----------
|
|
|
|
|
Siyanara, Sadaam! All Dead People Die. Just like All Good Things Must
Come To An End. Like this T-FIlE! And Like HOE.
goodbye HOE>
I could have said just said bye
before, instead of
everything else. too late.
my life?
the same, let bygones be bygones
the same, let the good times roll
the same ol shit? don't forget your blood
HOE? is in me and may god's
you KNOW? love be with you! mwah!
IF WE DIE WE DIE 2-GETHER, RIGHT?
still I never
knew it would
end like this
.
(good bye, good bye! and don't forget to write!
love always X0X0X0Xxxx000x0x0x0x0x0x0x@!#!!#!!@!@!@ Friends 4ever!@!)
Your chum,
Rhea
P.S. Maybe I will tell people I got the scar from a motercycle accident.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 18 Jul 2000 03:40:08 EDT
From: Jym Sylvia <jym@ns.anti-network.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Everyone always says, "Oh! Come on! Write something! It's fun! It's
creative! I like what you write, honest!" Well, I think I should let you
in on a little secret.
I used to try to be deep, but I decided it isn't worth it. It's a lot more
fun to care about nothing but video games and wrestling and Pokemon. I
don't really care about your pressing social issues. I don't care about
your moral philosophies, or your political babble. I just think it's all
a big joke.
Anything I write is just to watch all the art fags analyze it. I like to
watch them say, "Oh! This poem means he can't express his feelings to the
girl he loves! This angsty little piece of prose shows his feelings of
alienation from his peers!" None of it is really true. I just write total
babble, to watch you try to find meaning in it. It means about as much as
trying to find patterns in the poop a monkey throws at the wall.
"You're just full of angst! Even this pathetic piece of commentary is
just you trying to overcome your feelings of inferiority, because you
can't be a REAL writer, like the rest of us!" Nothing is funnier than
people who take themselves too seriously. Thanks for the laughs.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
QUESTION TO PONDER AT THIS JUNCTURE:
Are "random thoughts" really random?
Can ideas and feelings be expressed beyond our control?
If you answered YES to these questions, you deserve a snack. Run
to the kitchen and get a snack. Go on... this file will be here when you
get back, I promise!
.........................waiting for snack.................................
.......................why not put on some music?..........................
..........................have you given mogel any sex or money?...........
Okay, well, so you're a cynic. You don't like this ART FAG stuff,
and that's obviously why you're reading HOE, right? You transcend.
That time old issue of poetry in 'ZINES has been mocked and
attempted forever, and we thought we'd give it one last jab. So, here's
some god damn Hoetry.
MAGNAMIOUS POETRY by Quarex
You can all imagine the scene already; there I was, laying
face-down in the dirt, replaying the events of my recent break-up over
and over again in my head, with the single question "Why?" pervading my
thoughts.
And, of course, that has nothing to do with anything, and certainly
nothing to do with these poems, that I wrote as a complete joke in 8th
grade. At this point in my life, all poetry sounded to me like a
collection of completely fucking meaningless whining about the various
unhappy events in an unhappy person's life. I always thought to
myself, "if these people are so unhappy, why not do something about it,
instead of wasting their time writing about it?"
Now, of course, as I approach the final semester towards my
attainment of a bachelor's degree in English Literature, I understand
poetry more fully. It is a collection of completely fucking meaningful
whining about the various unhappy events in an unhappy person's life.
-------------
Thine eyes like candy
Thine kisses like Handy Andy
But that smelly cat of yours
makes me wish I was the floor
If only you smelled as bad as that cat
'Cuz then I could take you and make you a mat
For you, my dearest, are ugly and grey
While your little cat is nearly okay
And forgive me for sounding a little remorse
but frankly my dear, you can go fuck a horse
-------------
How happy I am
when you are like them
And not like others
because you are my brothers
I've known you since birth
you've given me mirth
you stupid mother fucker
I'm going to kill you
Look out for the clown
Look out for the clown
He's coming to town
Look out for the clown
-------------
Your Eyes
like a stream of steam
or like a pool of gruel
In any case, you're fucked
Go away
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Sent: Thursday, November 16, 2000 8:03 PM
From: Bear's Den <BearDen@crosslink.net>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
I would like to submit the following for possible publication in your zine:
MY BOYFRIEND IS HISTORY
My ex showed up at my door
He doesn<73>t do this as a rule
It was the 15th of February
past a holiday so cruel
He was looking pretty good
but didn<64>t have much to say
He was returning my bike
He can sometimes be OK
I had left it at his house
and should have had the guts to get it
I apologized for his trouble
He shrugged and said, "Don't sweat it"
I invited him in for coffee
and for a bite to eat
He sat down at my table
He was so polite and sweet
He took off his denim jacket
and was wearing a tight tee
He smiled across the table
and I screwed him 1, 2, 3
I know I said I hated him
and he's out of my life
I know I said he broke my heart
...stabbed it with a knife
But what's past is past
Que sera sera is my crusade
It's a bit of a contrast
(I once wanted him spayed)
Do you find my behavior strange?
It's really no mystery
There's been no big change
You never flunked History?
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
SCOTT BAIO DIED FOR YOUR SINS by Mutter
L O V E
These are the letters that spell calzone.
C A L Z O N E
These are the letters that spell ... love?
I've always loved you, Jeremy Pivan
But why did you eat the ham?
You are a dove
Love sent from above
But I've always been saddened
By your severe obesity.
You remind me of Bruce.
Bruce, you are my mother.
If wishes were fishes,
We all would eat tonight.
the cow masturbates by drinking milk
the teacher masturbates by teaching himself
ZANZIBAR
In a world where dancing was forbidden
One man had the courage to take a stand
In a land where romancing was not permitted
Omar, take my hand
Zanzibar
We are one
Zanzibar
Under the sun
Zanzibar
Sweet like pie
Zanzibar
Never tell a lie ...
You're a liar and a louse
Smaller than a mouse
There's a fire in your house
The wind wrinkles your blouse
My father thinks I'm a famous Japanese actor.
(Oh, father. Where did I go wrong?!)
the president masturbates by passing laws
the cow masturbates by drinking milk
i masturbate by manipulating my genitals
derivatives are fun.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THe SLauGHTeRHouSe
By KReiD
BLooD iS DRiPPiNG FRoM My TeeTH,
SWeaT DRiPS FRoM My BRoW.
i JuST WeNT To THe SLauGHTeRHouSe
aND RiPPeD aPaRT a CoW.
i KNoW THaT MoST You PeoPLe uSe
a CHaiNSaW oR a GuN,
BuT WHaT My PRoBLeM iS WiTH THaT:
iT'S JuST NoT aNy FuN!
FiRST i LiKe To MaNGLe iT,
THeN i LiKe To MaiM.
THeN i SHaTTeR aLL iTS BoNeS,
aND MaKe THe Moo-CoW LaMe.
i TaKe THe SCiSSoRS FRoM My BaG
aND THeN THe CoW DoTH SHuDDeR,
FoR WHaT i aM aBouT To Do
iS RiP aPaRT iTS uDDeR!
By NoW, i HoPe, THe CoW iS DeaD,
My ViCToRY So SWeeT,
BuT WHaT i NeeD aT THaT PoiNT
iS a QuaRTeR PouND oF MeaT!
i Do NoT uSe a KNiFe oR FoRK,
i JuST BeGiN To CHeW.
i Do HoPe THaT THiS GeNTLe BeaST
HaS MooeD iTS FiNaL Moo.
---(KReiD)-----------------------------------------------------------------
aND So eNDS aNoTHeR DaRK PieCe oF KReiD'S LiT. GReeTS Go ouT To
aLL My CRoNieZ: MoGeL, kAiA, _33, AiDS, aND aLL THe #eZiNeS KReW. FoR a
CuSToM LiT By KiLLeR KReiD, SeND $5 To Me (FiND Me oN iRC FoR KoNTaCT
iNFoeZ). aLL RiGHT - PeaCe ouT - KeeP THe WaReZ + THa SCaReZ FR33!!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Ken Cooney's Bizarre Abstract Expressionistic Poems
Deja Vu
=======
Deja vu
Is when you've seen
Something before
Which is deja vu,
When you saw something
You could have sworn
You've seen somewhere else
Which is deja vu
I'm Dead
========
Hey, what's this bullet doing in my head?
I'm Dead Again
==============
Hey, I'm still alive!
What's this other bullet doing in my head?
Drinking
========
Buuuuurrrrrpppppppp!
Drinking: the Following Day
===========================
H a n g o v e r ! ! ! !
Old McDonald's
==============
Old McDonalds had a farm
EI-EI-O
And on this farm he had a cow
EI-EI-O
With a slice slice here
And a slice slice there
Here a slice, there a slice
Everywhere a slice slice
Old McDonald had a burger
EI-EI-O
(And on this burger he had lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayo, hold the
onions)
Paper Airplanes
===============
I threw a paper airplane in class
Later that day it was thrown back at me
It had an a+ written on it
Killing with Guns
=================
I hated this geek's guts
So I shot his A+ brains all over the place.
I blasted out my D- brains on his.
We averaged a C.
Infinity
========
Infinity
Is a .... v e r y ...... b i g ........ n u m b e r.
Afraid of the Dark
==================
I'm afraid of the dark.
So I sleep with my eyes open.
Life in the Fast Lane
=====================
Cars
Women
Cheap booze
More cheap booze
*CRASH!*
You're dead.
Ode to "Sixty Minutes"
======================
tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Ode to a Mime
=============
Taking Drugs
============
I'm not taking drugs
Because if I take drugs
I have to fry eggs.
Humanities
==========
Humanities
Is a hard course
In how to be human.
It is especially hard for me
Because I come from another planet.
People
======
There are people in front of me
And people behind.
These people are smelly, but
Hey, I don't mind.
There are people to the left of me
There are people to the right.
I can only wish they took
A shower last night.
There are people above me
There are people below me.
There are so many people
That I barely have enough room to stand up and say
"I'm a people".
June 1999
=========
It was june 1999.
The birds were singing,
The flowers were blossoming,
The people were walking.
Say, what's that funny looking rocket doing in the air?
F O O O O O O O O O O O M
It was june 1999
The birds were fried,
The flowers disintergrated,
The people were dust.
Say, what's that funny looking mushroom cloud doing in the air?
Graveyards
==========
Graveyards
Are kind of like resorts
Where corpses lie six feet under
Waiting for george romero to do a movie about them.
Why me?
=======
I don't know.
A Tired Programmer
==================
=yawn=
vrtszdoxrthuijkm bgr
Oops, sorry ... my head fell on the keyboard.
Ode to Word Perfect 5.0 Errors
==============================
Error: file not found -- altf.wpm
Error: file not found -- altj.wpm
Error: file not found -- altu.wpm
Sleep Walking
=============
Sleep walking
Is very dangerous
Especially if
You live near a cliff
I'm An Animal
=============
I live in a cage.
People look at me
And throw peanuts.
Ode to a Stuck Horn
===================
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Going Crazy
===========
Am I going crazy?
People say that I'm insane.
I'm afraid of what would happen
If I only had half a brain.
Running
=======
I used to be a runner
And I'd go on this treadmill
And run every day,
But I gave it up
Because I was going nowhere.
Laughing
========
I just died laughing.
I wasn't a good enough comedian,
So someone shot my head off.
Jogging
=======
If you're going to jog around the block,
Don't bother.
You're already there!
A Very Long Poem Name With an Incredibly Short Poem
===================================================
End.
I Tripped Over a Stale Doughnut, Broke My Neck and Died
=======================================================
I tripped
Over a stale doughnut,
Broke my neck
And died
A Narrow Minded Conclusion
==========================
Life sucks.
A straw sucks.
I must be a straw!
Falling Down Stairs
===================
ouch
.......ouch
..........ouch
...............ouch
......................ouch
..........................ouch
Being Dragged Up Stairs By Your Legs and Banging Your Head
==========================================================
..........................ouch
......................ouch
...............ouch
..........ouch
.......ouch
ouch
Being Eaten Alive By a Lion
===========================
ARRRRGH!
I'm Falling
===========
I
'
m
F
a
l
l
i
n
g
!
*Splat!*
Mr Ed. Is Dead
==============
I went to a burger joint
And I bought a burger
And it talked to me.
Walking Barefoot On a Floor Covered By Tacks
============================================
OW! That hurts!
YEOW! Damn! What the heck is that!?
OW! What the hell?!!
Who's the jerk that put these damn tacks on the floor?!!
Walking Through A Sound Sensitive Mine Field
============================================
Creak... creak... creak.... creeeaaakkk.. step step creeeeak
Creak... creak... step step creeeeaaaakkkk step step step
Pant pant
ACHOO!
***FOOOOOOM!***
Lies Told On First Dates
========================
No, I'm interested in your mind.
I'm not staring at your chest; it's your -er shirt.
Ode to an 8:30 Class
====================
Damn!
It's too freaking cold to be up this early!
Look, the damn birds aren't even up this early!
Ode to a Teacher Not Showing Up For an 8:30 Class
=================================================
Damn it!
The teacher didn't even show up!
I told you that it was too damn early!
What do you mean "daylight saving's time"?
Ode to a Schitzophrenic
=======================
I've got a split personality
And so do i.
Ode to Writer's Block
=====================
.
Holidays
========
On boxing day.
I drove to canada
And went to a supplies store
So I could get boxes real cheap.
My mom says that I'm a saint
So on All Saints Day
I took the day off
Which is why I'm unemployed.
On civic day
I went to the honda dealer
To ask if they had a sale.
They looked at me like I was crazy.
Hide and Seek
=============
My friends and I were playing hide and seek.
So to make sure that I wouldn't be found
I wore some camoflauged clothes.
Hot Chick
=========
Some people say that she's a hot chick
But I know that she's a hot chick
Because I've seen her up close
And set her on fire.
Skipping Record
===============
I put on my favorite record
which had my favorite record
which had my favorite it skipped!
Sometimes it would play the same thing over and
it would play the same thing over and
it would play the same thing and sometimes it would just skip I was
pissed!
Who the hell scratched my parts all together.
I was pissed!
Who the hell favorite song and it skipped!
Sometimes it would play the same thing
So I played the next song
Which wasn't my favorite song
But I liked it anyway.
And sat down to relax to listen to wasn't my favorite song
But I liked it anyway.
Who the hell scratched my record?!
Sometimes it would play the same thing
ARGGGGG!
Velcro
======
I wear velcro
On the bottom of my sneakers
Because I am afraid
One day
The world will suddenly stop
And toss me hurling into space.
A Subtle Way to Ask Out Girls If You're Horny
=======================================
"I've got a very big shoe size."
A Not-So-Subtle Way For Girls To Turn Down Horny Guys
==================================================
"So do clowns."
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
GRANDMA'S HOUSE by Kreid
there was teary mumbling everywhere inside her den,
among life machines still plugged in and operating,
ancient newspaper clippings of obituaries and advice columns,
teary mumbling all of love or grace.
dad searching a jungle of useless documents and newspapers
for something of redeemable value -- life insurance papers, perhaps.
i looked for stray jewelry that i could pocket.
people kept showing me old photographs of myself found in the rubble.
there was a can of yams in the refrigerator,
which incidentally was the worst-smelling part of the whole apartment.
i found a soiled pair of panties stashed behind the radiator
and an indian-head penny buried at the bottom of a final mound of
cigarettes in a cracked-glass ashtray.
there were pills everywhere,
diuretics and dietary supplements.
i couldn't find her morphine.
she took it all with her in her final, most horrible hours.
i smelled like sweat and death from the moment i entered that house,
the heat inside was even more repulsive than the heat outside on the
sidewalk at noon. the landlord yelled at me because grandma's trash was
starting to crowd his dumpster.
"you're talking to the wrong guy," i told him. he looked at me like i was
an asshole or something, then he looked like he'd like to break my legs
over it.
"go ahead, do it." vacant stare. "i'm an asshole! Break my fucking legs!"
he turned his back on me and went inside to yell at my family.
maybe i got the wrong idea about that guy.
"nobody does sadness like the irish," my father said.
i didn't change my shirt for a week after that.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
SUCKER by Kreid
Your town was raided
By injuns and
You were impregnated
In your colonic womb
And gave Birth
7 Months Later
The fetus clawed its
Way through
Your ass-fro
And was born
With his brain
On the outside
Of his body
Sucks to be you
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
BELTS by Effy
Oh, if I had a belt, what would I do, I ask you? Do you know what
I would do? Would I wear it on my head? Would I lend it to my friends,
and start a new trend? Would I tie together my feet and walk down the
street? Would I use it as a belt, and hold up my pants to keep out the
ants?
Oh! But what if I wanted to *kill* you!? I could wrap it around
your neck like an early Christmas present. Would I buy a red belt? Or a
green one? Or could I fashion a belt of pine needles and prick your
prickly skin? I wish I were Santa Claus.
Baby, baby, baby, what would you do if I gave you a belt? Would you
belt me with it? Would you twist my heart in two with it? Would you lash
out at me in a rage? Or would you smile and thank me if it were me belting
you? Baby?! Should my belt be baby blue? Should my belt be you so true?
I wanna be oh oh I wanna be a rock star. With a belt.
Everyone would wanna be like me, man. Just call me Beltor. I got
belts to hold up my gym socks. Belts to hold up my head. Belts, belts,
everywhere. Flyin' through the air with wings, singin' a song only a real
belt sings. I aint talkin' about no cheap shit. $59.99, unless they're
on clearance at Wal-Mart.
That's right.
Date: Wed, 13 Sep 2000 22:44:29 EDT
From: PatSoho@aol.com
To: hoe@hoe.nu
My miniscule tribute to our degenerating society.
I just got home and I put on music. In class today, the teacher
took away my CD player. I asked her when I'd get it back, and she said in
the most impossibly nasal voice I've ever heard in a way that gets on your
nerves the first time you hear them speak, "When I decide to give it back
to you." I shrugged and sat down. The loss of my music in school was like
a kick to the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs, leaving me shocked
and feeling a sudden wave of fright. Of course, being so different from the
rest of the class, I couldn't hang my head or show my true feelings.
Music is my solace: my escape, my release, and yet the key to open the
door to the only world that matters to me. The note, the time signature,
these are my best friends. I listen to music all hours of the day, and go
to shows quite frequently. I am becoming deaf... my hearing has depleted
5%, and will continue to do so until i give up my music. But I will not.
I refuse turn my back on the best friends I have ever known. Just as I
refuse to become a conformist and do as the heard does. I have learned
to think for myself. I have developed a sense of right and wrong, and I
believe my faith in my music is all too right. I am not self-righteous,
for I acknolwedge and even accept the opinions of others. Even the ones
who tell me my music sucks, which is a personal insult.
"What do you listen to?" I ask.
"Mainstream, faggot."
"Pop? The only thing they play on the radio? You mean you didn't
go out and discover a source of music that really means something to you?
Something you can feel, can relate to, interact with on some level, and
even be made to think by just listening to it? Why am I not surprised?
Oh that's right, you're a piece of shit."
I don't write about music because I'm trying to be cool. I'm being
a realist. I have been segragated through music over and then again,
solely because people feel a perverse need to fit in. Who gives a fuck?
Be yourself, and the other shit will happen.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FROM ARTISTS AGAINST COMPUTER PIRACY
by Terror Eyz
i was talking to my friend about a band i just started liking. i
told him to go get it off napster, the music sharing program. i didn't
think anything weird of it at the time. that was always my natural
response. any time i heard something new, i would say "hey, i'll get it
off napster!" and i always did. to tell you the truth, i haven't bought
an album in like six months, and that was with a gift certificate. i
get any album i want off napster, usually before it comes out, too.
so, i realized something.
"you know, it's funny... i like this band so much, i spend all
night downloading their music off of napster. i will never buy the album
since i have the mp3s, so they will probably not make another album
since they got no money off their other. heh, that's kinda funny."
but then i started thinking to my self, "is it really funny?" all
of these albums im downloading and burning and even sometime burning for
other people. is it funny? these bands are never gonna make it. i sit
back and look at my collection of over 1000 mp3s that i used to think was
pretty cool. now i think it's pretty sad. how can i call them my favorite
band when i dont even buy their music? i just pirate it. am i really a
fan? fans support their favorite bands. buy their albums. tell their
friends to buy the album. what do i do? i download the album and then
burn copies for my friends.
and you know what? this isn't just happening with me. you are
probably doing it right now. everybody is. that's the whole problem.
how are any bands going to stay around with everybody mass pirating their
music?
well, what the fuck do i know anyway? i'm downloading Anti-Flag
right now. i guess i'm just trying to make sense of what's going on, even
though i know it wont stop, basicly because of people like myself who
don't wanna fork out the 15 bucks for an album when they spend it on gas.
who knows, though, right? maybe i'm wrong.
happy downloading =)
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
COMMENTARY by Trimmerhead
Would the real slim shady please stand up.
Would the real slim shady please SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Soon to become the _definition_ of over-played, Eminem's song,
"Real Slim Shady" has invaded the minds and the ears of many, some of
whom, like mine, are ready to combust with the sound of one more "please
stand up". As if being played constantly isn't enough, but on every
radio station, yes, I have even heard it on a country station (god knows
why) just is too much and adds to the madness it created. At first a well
written song with a good beat and sharp lyrics with a purpose, has now
turned your attention to the moron spinnin circles screamin "i don't give
a fuck". A simple beat that sticks in your ear drums with a whining
sample that would be considered a type of torture in some places, the
song has gotten way past the point of annoying and far beyond overplayed.
lets take a look at the lyrics. *note: i was very impressed with
this song when if first came out, the lyrics were well written and held
a purpose, but not the purpose has turned to "top 40" and not by Eminems
choice.
yes. you have my atteniton. and thank you for asking so nicely. no
problem. yes. i have seen a white person before..many of them. the only
time my jaw is on the floor is when i saw pammy lee's cavernous crotch in
there vaca. video. and good for tommy. Dr Dre. dead? is elvis, is biggie
smalls, is tupac? next.
i'm sure the femimist's love you, they wish they could grab your
you know what and flip to you know who. cute, don't flatter yourself. no
shit you got a few screws loose, but hey so do I. i don't want to know
what's goin on in my parents bedroom, thats why i knock first. why don't
you dress a tv up like a moose then kiss its ass like Tom Green, now that
would really blow a nut. i always knew what a clitoruis is. just never
admited it. hey...discovery channel is good lions and elephants mating
(no not with each other). dalmer? if you have to hump dead animals, you
should have been in the same cell as dalmer. i do have a reason why a man
and another man shouldn't elope. *lisp* whose gonna where the dress?
(normal) women wave those pantyhose, and the bra and the thong, shit,
shake that ass!
ok good...you are the real slim shady. good. i get it. yes, a lot
of cheap imitation, but hey..this is the 21st century.
will smith is still workin off of "fresh prince" (tape/cd you must
hear...fresh prince and dj jazzy jeff, good shit) why fuck him, more
importantly WHY FUCK ME? i don't care about the grammy either. yes.
weird. no. no i really wanna know who she gave head to first and why
wasn't i there to get a turn? sure...i got the mp3. deleted it like a
good citizen (ha) actually deleted it cause her music sucks my sweaty ass
(man is it hot in here) I'm with Em. on the whole Boy/Girl groups
teeny-fuckin-trendy-assed-plastic-seal-skin-wearin-bopper. shit. i cuss
like i don't give a fuck like you. but i find other means of venting my
fustration. to each his own....definately your own. and no. nothing like
you.
ok good...you are the real slim shady. good. i get it. yes, a lot
of cheap imitation, but hey..this is the 21st century.
yeah...a head trip and a half to listen to. i do have the balls to
say it and right at my friends in my living room. i'm no rapper. but hey,
i'm white.
nursing home at 30? my kinda guy...(self ambition: a dirty old man.)
jergens? no no no...lubriderm, its right in the name lube! come on get
with it man. you don't need viagra....just get some good strong coffee.
if one of you cheap imitation slim shady motherfuckers spit in my burger
i will jump over the counter so fast and shove that burger and the shitty
wax paper i came in so far up your ass you will be picking wax out of your
ears for a week. then i will proceed to dunk you in the fry-a-lator and
then cover you in "special sauce" (its just mayo/mustard/catsup/relish/cat
urine mix) i already know a lot of wacko's who circle in the parking lot
with their systems up. what else is new? i'm out of control! you're out
of control! i'll show you how it goes!
once again ok good...you are the real slim shady. good. i get it.
yes, a lot of cheap imitation, but hey..this is the 21st century.
now..at this point i am ready to kill...everyone around singing it,
pretending that they are a fake rapper...yes thats right.
i already fed my slim shady how about you?
now. if you were at all smart you bought the Marshall Mathers album
and realized that "the real slim shady" nothing compared to the other
songs and have moved passed the repeatative overplayed "please stand up"
I give Eminem alot of credit, an excelent lyricist and an amazing rhymer,
i like his style, but its the goddamned little teen boppers who have the
britney speares and mandy moore albums sitting on top of their trendy pink
cd players while they chant "please stand up" as the real slim shady plays
on every radio station across the country. they'll all grow up to either
be vegelesbians, sluts or decent woman but the question is how many of
each and how hard would you laugh to see Eminem wave his dick at
Christina Aguilera when he wins his first grammy?
now. please sit down. please sit down.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 18 Jul 2000 06:12:24 EDT
From: Jym Sylvia <jym@ns.anti-network.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Hey man, you got any headphones? I wanna listen to my tapes here, but I
ain't got nuthin' to play 'em on. Kenny Rogers, Bon Jovi, and Madonna.
Gawddamn, ain't that Madonna a piece of ass? And she ain't shy about
givin' it up, either! Hell, I'd bet she'd even do a smaller person like
myself.
Heh, 29 years old, and I'm only four feet. Ain't been too easy, bein'
small. But my mama, well, my mama always told me that respect ain't given.
No sir. Respect is earned! And I think I've tried to be decent and earn
some respect in my life.
I'm going to visit my brother, back in Oklahoma. That's where we was born.
See, I've got two brothers and a sister. Well, I had two brothers... See,
I was livin' with my brother up in O-hi-o. He died though, God rest his
soul. So I'm gunna go visit my younger brother, he's 26. I'm gunna ask,
get down on my knees if I hafta, to take me in. Even though I ain't seen
him in 2 years, he should take me in, right? I'm his brother! He can't
turn his own bro away. What brother would turn away his own flesh and
blood, on his knees beggin'!
Hey man, you gotta candy bar? I'm a diabetic. I just looooove candy.
Heh. Do you smoke? I smoke Marloboro. I also collect those Marlboro Miles.
I'm gunna save me up enough to get the duffle bag!
What's the matter, you don't like me, do you?
Heh! Just messin' with ya! But seriously man, I need a candy bar. You don't
have anything? Sheeit man, that does suck. Ah well. Heh, I'm cussin' far
too much. My sister, she's got two young boys, and two girls. Can't cuss
in front of them! Heh, I love those kids, man. I love kids. You like kids?
They so damn cute! Coochie coochie coo! Coochie coochie coo! You gotta
discipline children, though. Can't have 'em runnin' wild. They's gotta
earn respect. That's my mama used to say... you gotta earn respect, it
ain't given freely.
I remember, when I was just a kid, even smaller than I am now. We went on
a trip to Florida, my mama, and my two brothers, and my sister. See, I
never knew my dad. They actually only my half brothers and sister. But
anyways, so we went to Florida to visit an aunt. I couldn't have been more
than 10, but I went to a bar. Gave me a Long Island Iced Tea, they did!
Gawddamn! After that, boy did I ever acquire a taste for that stuff.
Hey, anybody have any headphones? I'd really like to listen to my tapes.
Awww, you'se all just not givin' 'em to me because I'm a MIDGET. That's it,
ain't it? HA! Just messin' with ya. Can you buy me a candy bar?
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
NATIONALISM by Soybean
i am proud to be an american when:
1. i listen to george w. bush's republican nomination speech and
he says: "etc etc <former president> thomas jefferson abe
lincoln etc and george washington, you know, WINK WINK, his
friends called him george w., WINK" (i note here that those
winks were not verbalized as one might be led to believe from
the above sentence. i'm quite sure he did not say "etc etc"
either, but to be honest, nothing he said registered clearly
enough for me to be able to say that definitively.
there was also a point at which, toward the end of his speech,
i was brimming over with certainty that his sentence, which
began "my friend, the artist formerly..." was going to end with
"known as prince," and for all i know, it did. i was focused on
establishing myself a psychic nexus with this prince of power,
son of sam, coked-up carouser, and all-around nice guy (ref:
salon article... hell, it's not up on the front page anymore,
and i'm not hunting. front page now reads "can drugs bring us
closer to god?")... george w. 'shrub' 'shrubdub' 'dubya' bush.
if i wrote down george w. bush's acceptance speech down from
memory, it would read:
"hey guys, i proudly accept this nomination to be president of
the united states. some other presidents have been thomas
jefferson, some other guy, abe lincoln, and george washington,
you know, WINK WINK, his friends called him george w., WINK."
[crowd cheers enthusiastically; patriotically twirls their
redwhiteandblue cowboy hats]
"also, by the way, i eat babies!"
[close-up face shots of women in the audience, tears in their
eyes, while the men continue to cheer enthusiastically and twirl
their americahats]
"by the way, my friend, the artist formerly known as prince, has
an uncanny ability to illustrate the gentle, casual, endearing
rays of sunlight cast over the hills of texas during the sunset,
the things that made me fall in love with my creepy demonbride
laura. thank you america."
[crown continues to thrash about wildly, hats in hand, flailing
those strange phallic objects in the air while shouting "BUSH!
BUSH! BUSH!"]
meanwhile, i like to imagine that ralph nader is still trying to
coerce a young airline employee into letting him into the vip
cubicle, to little avail (ref: http://www.washingtonpost.com/
wp-dyn/articles/A30740-2000Aug3.html).
ladies and gentleman, to the average viewer, ralph nader may
seen like a common turkey. to the astute observer, however,
he is one smooth son of a bitch.
i am proud to be an american when:
2. a few years ago i was watching a rented video with my mother.
i'm not going to lie and say that i remember what it was, or
whether i liked it. i will say that i'm going to pretend like
it was "schindler's list," which i have rented on four occasions
but never seen more than three minutes of. i know that is not
what we were watching because my mother saw it in the theatre
and only on rare occasions will rent a movie for a second
go-round unless she was completely blown away. this is all
incidental, by the way.
in the midst of schindler's list my brother wandered into the
room. he was staring blankly at the fireplace mantel ten feet
in front of him. out of his mouth came his immortal words:
"you know this big sub sandwiches? like, the ones that are
six feet long? how much do you think one of those weighs?
"i have no idea."
"no, really. how much do you think one of those things weighs?
they're pretty big."
"i don't know."
"i'm serious about this."
"then i guess it would depend on what was on the sandwich."
"just a standard sub sandwich."
"i really don't know."
"how much do you think a foot-long weighs? just multiply that
by six."
"go away."
"what about a six-inch? you could multiply that by twelve."
"i'm serious, go away."
"fine."
i am proud to be an american when:
i should say that i _will_ be proud to be an american when i can
get a kitten and name it 'mogel.' i offered this naming suggestion up to
jamesy but due to the unfortunate circumstances of his current apartment,
he was not able to obtain the kitten, so if by some means i get a kitten
before he does, i've got fucking dibs, man. if jamesy manages to get a
kitten first and is still interested in naming his kitten 'mogel,' by all
means, he should do so. in that event i will name the kitten 'taco.'
trick!!
i am proud to be an american when:
this too has nothing to do with being an american. i sent an email
this afternoon to mark borchardt, he who was featured in the documentary
"american movie" and maker of "coven." he replied. his reply was rather
anticlimactic, but i've been having a good time pretending like this is
going to be the highlight of my life.
i am proud to be an american when:
last friday, july 28, i played this trivia game at a bar here in
kansas city, davey's uptown ramblers club. it's apparently a weekly
event, though this was the first time that i had been free when my
friend, a trivia regular, had invited me along. sample answers to
trivia questions included:
kraftwerk
terraform
captain beefheart
robert goddard
einstuerzende neubauten
and then after trivia was over, a woman announced she was getting
married to the trivia organizer. this came as a great surprise to
everyone, perhaps even the trivia organizer. but it's happening
this weekend -- saturday in fact.
going to the ocean tomorrow.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000 11:36:38
From: budzekkj@notes.udayton.edu
To: mogel@hoe.nu
....{why you are not unique, even though you are.}
....a dramatic political essay neither dramatic nor political, blurted out
uncontrollably by liberty. er, jnana. trying to change my name and all.
recently i've realized that the majority of people tend to walk around with
a big stupid happy inner grin because they, in fact ARE UNIQUE. And they've
been told this time and time again by feel-good hippie parents and teachers
and sunday school pastors and that guy on the corner who smells kind of
funny but is always really nice to everyone except when he's hungry, which
is always.
The problem inherent in this nationwide "i'm ok, you're ok" phenomenon is
not that it is incorrect in its presuppostion that everyone is different
and unique, but that people see this simple fact as an achievement, as
something they have consciously done. I AM UNIQUE, write it on my forehead,
give me a t-shirt, give my parents a bumper sticker, scream it from the
rooftops until my lungs are blackened from spending so much time on
rooftops because there's so much smoke and smog, didn't you know that was
where the chimney-sweeps hung out and sang songs, didn't you watch Mary
Poppins, don't you know anything?
Every single thing that you have done, that has happened to you, that
you've heard, or overheard, or didn't hear, or ignored, has changed and
shaped you. THAT has made you unique. THAT is why no two people are the
same. Two identical twins, who haven't left the same room all their lives,
are different people. They may have read the same books, but one of them
got a paper cut once. And that does make all the difference. We are unique
individuals because of our paper cuts, not because our inner fucking
"souls" are inherently different.
When two people look at a stop sign, one might think "red" first, and the
other might think "octagon" and another might think "stop" and another
might think "sign" and another might think "fucking stop signs are
everywhere and everyone's always telling me to stop more than they're
telling me to go, fuck them all, i'm not going to stop, i'm going to drive
down to the local fucking pawn shop or gun and knife show and get a fucking
Uzi withOUT the damn Brady Bill waiting period and take it to school
because YOU motherfuckers keep telling me to STOP instead of GO."
So, please, stop pretending you're unique. Stop being proud of it at least.
And all of you eighth grade goth pagan rebellious little girls, shut up
already and learn about life and the world and common sense before you
immediately give up christianity for the next, most hip current religion
without thinking about what it means first.
we're all unique. being unique means you're just like everyone else. ooh,
conformity, better make a stand.
i'm right, you're wrong. you could disagree with me and think for yourself,
but that would be too hard.
-jnana (not liberty, although she's still in here sometimes)
{oh, and jnana is a hindu word meaning knowledge.. jnana yoga is the path
of enlightenment through knowledge. however, without the J, jnana is nana
which is a interesting little bit of doowop, from such classic hits as
"Na Na Na Shoop Boop Deet Dot" which, loosely translated, means "I forgot
the lyrics because of all this cocaine cause all great musical artists do
drugs and I'm trying to fit in."}
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
"the mullet burden" by alek
he parked his car in a handicap parking spot in front of the liquor
store. all he wanted was a gallon jug of port wine anyhow. the kind with
the screw off cap. he wouldnt be long. the bottles with corks piss him
off. corks are fucking messy. annoying. fall in. ugh. he went down
aisle 13 and got the cheapest one. quantity over quality. the girl at
the register had a labret piercing. he thought that was weird but she
seemed nice enough. she even had all her teeth. amazing. the port came
out to 5.43 and he gave her 5.50. she put the port in a brown paper bag
and gave him his change. he pocketed it then walked out the door. a cop
was writing him a ticket for parking in a handicap parking spot. then, he
dropped his bag and his bottle of wine broke and wine splashed all over
his new shoes. cops are stupid.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
----------[Taken from Gop.Org]----------
this hack has not been sanctioned by a political party or candidate.
welcome to one of the former main webpages of the gop.
take a minute to read:
As my dear friend Thomas Paine once said, these *are* the times
that try mens' souls. We're faced with the realization that the united
states government was never meant to scale to the level at which it
currently sits. It seems hard to believe that those distinguished
gentlemen, sitting back in that dusty hall in Philadelphia, ever imagined
a nation as large and as populous as our own. Indeed, Jefferson himself
faced the first indicator of this woeful inability to scale when faced
with the Louisiana Purchase. It came down to this great man, who had
crafted so much, that for all their wisdom and caring and structure, they
had made a country in which there were no rules set for expansion. And
ever since, this maxim, this lack of foresight in men so far sighted, has
throttled and crushed this nation in so many different ways.
George W. Bush would make a great president for those states which
traffic not so much in deceny but bigotry. Not acceptance but hate. Not
love but fear. There is no sense of human camaraderie amongst those who
live south of the Mason-Dixon line. At least, no camaraderie for those
whose appearance is not completely and utterly similar to one's own self.
So gays, blacks, latinos, and even women, (once they've been
knocked up and sent into a nine month hibernation until they can produce a
male heir,) are treated as less than human. They're not even given the
3/5ths that slaves once were. Their manifest destiny is serving that great
tyrant, the straight white male.
And don't presume that I'm unaware of how cliche that may sound.
But sometimes, lord, sometimes cliches prove to be a great truth. And
there is no greater truth in American than the straight white male's
dominance and his Aesopian desire to keep it. I myself seem to be the very
same thing as all the other swine who run this country. For a guy like me,
a vote for Bush is like a vote for continued prosperity.
But as the scum also rises, so the sun also sets.
I can not conscience vote for Bush. A vote for Bush is a vote
for myself. A vote for Bush is a vote for myself at the expense of
everyone else living in this strange and savage land. For whatever reason,
be it upbringing, my parents, or perhaps even brain damage, I reject the
idea of voting simply for myself. A vote should be cast not simply on
personal issues, but on one's feeling on how your vote will affect the
whole country.
Voting for Bush would be voting for myself and voting against
anyone not like me. We don't need to talk about the supreme court, or Al
Gore's endless babbling about that tax cut for the top 1%, because like
your fuzzy mathed lockboxes, it's seared into the American consciousness.
I don't need give you reasons. If you can not see them yourself, then
nothing will ever remove the blinders.
Gore isn't the best of men, but I refuse to be stuck in the same
arrested adolesence as all of America's luxury classed celebrities, who
presume that you can only vote for a candidate if his views tally 100%
with your own. That is the folly of the spoiled. Nor can I pretend that
the differences between Gore & Bush are unpronounced. If you believe that,
then Bush has played you as he wanted to play you. He's run as a moderate
Democrat on Democrat issues. It amazes me that all you woeful cynics of
the political process who don't buy the hype have bought the hype so
deeply.
Bush is a man whose entire life has been spent in the shadow of a
superior father, and remembering back to those awful days of 1988-1992,
it's hard to imagine Sr. being very superior to anyone, but Dubbya has
used the Senior as his prototype. He's the classic Oedipal, even if that
does mean we must consider the horrific possibility of School Marm Barb
having sex with either George. He's spent his entire life trying to please
his dorky father, and once he gets in office, do you think that's going to
change? He'll mirror Papa's policies as quickly as hate crimes legislation
can be shot down.
Again, Gore ain't the best of men, but he's a good man, and he's a
smart man. He may very well be smarter than any man who has ever been
President. He's a fascinating intellect, and while he's a little to the
right of where I wish he'd be, at least he truly understands governmental
compassion, rather than giving it the thin lipped service of W.
This election won't affect me in any way. Either way, I'm going to
float to the top. However, I comprehend the effects of my vote on the rest
of the populace, and can not be irresponsible with it. I must vote, as
dear self-aggrandizing Ralph Nader & his chorus of increasingly irrelevant
celebrities have said, "my conscience". My conscience tells me that I
shouldn't fuck over people over for my own self, nor should I maintain some
lofty ideal of a true progressive movement when that self-same progressive
movement can't attract any minorities or gays, and serves as the political
equivalent of a country club for the spoiled and overpriviledged.
As such, I must vote Gore, and I urge you to do so.
Want more? here's more.
If you want more dry, shiny, dead republican drivel, go to
http://www.gop.com or http://www.gop.net, or turn on your nearest
television.
----------[Taken from http://www.msnbc.com/news/486630.asp]----------
MSNBC Technology
GOP.org Web site hacked
Attacker placed pro-Gore note on Republican party page
A screenshot of the defaced GOP.org home page.
By Bob Sullivan
MSNBC
Nov. 7 -- Just hours before the polls opened on Tuesday, a
computer intruder defaced the Republican National
Committee's Web site with a pro-Al Gore message,
MSNBC.com has learned. Along with a 1,000-word
diatribe imploring readers to vote for the Democratic
candidate, the attacker altered GOP.org to include a
link to Gore<72>s Web site. Links to other Republican
sites were also included.
AT 4 A.M. ET, the GOP.org site was down and it
remained down past 5 a.m. ET. But the content which
had been placed on the site was archived at
attrition.org, which regularly saves content from
hacked Web pages.
"Gore ain't the best of men, but he's a good man, and
he's a smart man. He may very well be smarter than
any man who has ever been President," the attacker
wrote. "He's a fascinating intellect, and while
he's a little to the right of where I wish he'd be,
at least he truly understands governmental compassion,
rather than giving it the thin lipped service of W."
An operator who answered the phone at the Web site's
Internet hosting firm, Chattanooga, Tenn.-based
NextLEC LLC, confirmed the hack.
"We had people call us saying they were trying to
look at the Web site, then saying "Hey do you know
about this?" the operator said. She said a
representative from the Republican National Committee
called in the first report of the hack before
11 p.m. ET on Monday.
'ARTICULATE' ATTACK
The attacker did not choose identify himself or leave
a typical calling card. In fact, one security analyst
said it was a bit more sophisticated than the usual
Web page defacement.
"This is another example -- much more effective than
previous ones -- of something that has been labeled
by the press as hacktivism," said Joel de la Garza,
an analyst with Securify.com. "The defacement is
rather articulate, much more so than the rantings of
most of the script kiddies I see, and seems to be
well thought out. It is also very well timed."
Security experts call young computer attackers who
deface Web sites using automated tools "script
kiddies."
The Republican party uses several domain names for
its site, including GOP.com and GOP.net. Those sites
were both still functional and did not appear to be
affected.
"We're disturbed by the pattern of dirty tricks in
this campaign," said Tom Yu, spokesman for the
Republican National Committee, suggesting the
Democratic Party may have been behind the attack.
He said the GOP was still investigating how the
break-in occurred. "We hope the Democratic party join
us in denouncing the attack."
-[Taken from http://www.pcworld.com/partners/avantgo/article.asp?aid=34290]-
PCWorld.Com
Bushwhacked! Hacker Defaces GOP Site
Republican spokesperson considers it 'badge of honor.'
George A. Chidi Jr., IDG News Service
Tuesday, November 07, 2000
Quoting Thomas Paine, a hacker defaced a Web site of
the Republican National Committee on Monday night,
replacing it with a harangue attacking the Republican
presidential candidate, Texas Governor George W. Bush,
and "that great tyrant, the straight white male."
The defacement replaced the front page of GOP.org with
the hacker's monologue around midnight Monday, the
night before the election, says Larry Purpuro, deputy
chief of staff for the Republican National Committee.
"We actually spotted the incident almost
instantaneously," he says. "We took it down and would
have fixed it immediately, but given the timing we
were, frankly, doubly concerned about doing things
right."
The hacker disavowed a connection to a political
party or group and identified himself only
tangentially, implying he was a white male who
"seem(s) to be the very same thing as all the other
swine who run this country."
"Gore isn't the best of men, but I refuse to be stuck
in the same arrested adolesence [sic] as all of
America's luxury classed celebrities, who presume
that you can only vote for a candidate if his views
tally 100% with your own," he wrote. "That is the
folly of the spoiled." He went on to attack Bush as
an elitist who "would make a great president for
those states which traffic not so much in deceny
[sic] but bigotry."
With references to Jefferson's acquisition of the
Louisiana Purchase and the "Aesopian desire" for
white men to keep power, the writing seems to point
to an older, better educated (if grammatically
uninspired) class of hacker than the "script-kiddies"
using prefabricated tools to break into Web sites to
leave virtual graffiti.
Purpuro puts the incident in the same category as
other recent events of "hacktivism"--the use of
computer hacking to spread a political message.
"Given the hack attacks at the Israeli Defense
Force's site, and Yahoo, and the Pentagon, we
expected to be the subject of Net terrorism," he says.
"It's the important sites that are getting attacked.
We actually consider it a badge of honor. We hope,
with some of the major [news] sites raising this
issue, we actually hope to improve our viewership.
In the end this could work for us." A mirror site to
the Republican National Committee's with the hacker's
text is preserved here.
------[Taken from http://www.theregister.co.uk/content/1/14552.html]------
The Register
George Dubya ridiculed on hacked RNC page
By: Thomas C Greene in Washington
7 November 2000
The Republican National Committee (RNC) Web site was
defaced on election day with a lengthy essay
impugning George Dubya's fitness for the office he
seeks.
"George W. Bush would make a great president for
those states which traffic not so much in decency
but bigotry. Not acceptance but hate. Not love but
fear. There is no sense of human camaraderie amongst
those who live south of the Mason-Dixon line," the
author says.
One might detect a few personal 'issues' of White
guilt as he goes on, "gays, Blacks, Latinos, and
even women, (once they've been knocked up and sent
into a nine month hibernation until they can produce
a male heir,) are treated as less than human. They're
not even given the 3/5ths [legal recognition] that
slaves once were. Their manifest destiny is serving
that great tyrant, the straight white male."
"Voting for Bush would be voting for myself and
voting against anyone not like me," he observes.
After detailing Al Gore's numerous assets in
comparison with his opponent, the author concludes
that he is, if not quite attractive, the lesser of
two evils, and that "as such, I must vote Gore, and
urge you to do so."
The RNC has made a characteristically paranoid
statement in response to the attack.
"It's obviously a dirty trick late in the campaign by
the Democrats," RNC spokesman Tom Yu told the Reuters
wire service during an interview. "We're disappointed
at the large amount of dirty tricks being played this
late in the campaign by the Democrats," he added.
We're not all that confident in this assertion, but
the paranoia is familiar, as we recall from an
earlier story where the Reps interpreted a spam
campaign as a Dem dirty trick. Indeed, the Democratic
National Committee (DNC) Web site came under attack
yesterday as well. A notable difference here is that
the Dems didn't rush to blame their opponents.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
COPY WITHOUT AN ORIGINAL by Sad Jester
We are based on the system. We are inseparable from it. Everyday
we depend on electricity, cars, gasoline, maintained roads, grocery
stores, police, telephones and computers. The list could go on and on.
We've become dependent upon these things for our very survival. If all
the grocery stores closed, tens of thousands of people would starve to
death unless someone fed them. The world would go into total chaos and
society as we know it would end. We are, as a result, slaves of the
system. We are cattle waiting to be enslaved, herded, and slaughtered.
This, I believe, is the central concern of the Wachowski Brother's movie,
The Matrix.
Early in the movie, Thomas Anderson (who assumes the hacker name
Neo) opens a copy of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation to a chapter
entitled "On Nihilism." The book has a hollowed out inside. This case
serves as Neo's hiding place for "hacked" information he sells
on the black market. Although the movie contains widely divergent themes
such as Christ imagery, eastern philosophy, and Greek mythology with all
giving myth and substance to the characters, Baudrillard's Simulacra and
Simulation is probably the best starting point for a philosophical
approach to the movie's content.
In The Matrix, computer technology has developed to the point of
producing artificial intelligence - thinking, free willed computer. These
computers continued to grow and learn, eventually gaining total control
over the human society. Human resistance takes the form of a mass
cataclysm intended to block sunlight from the surface of the earth and
shut down the solar-powered computers. The computer realized that they
needed a new energy source. The most abundant energy source on the planet
was now the human being. Humans give off body heat, which could be
converted into electricity. The computers then started to breed humans
for use as a power source. They were born and grown within gel-filled
pods. Nutrients were fed intravenously while their body heat and
electro-chemical impulses were tapped to power the computer.
To keep people happy in their mind and healthy in their body so
that they would live as long as possible, the computer created a program
called "the matrix." The matrix was a virtual world serving as an exact
sensory duplicate of late twentieth century earth. Humans in the pods were
plugged directly into the computer network through implants at the base
of their skulls. Individuals within the matrix perceived themselves as
living out a normal life somewhere on 20th century earth, while in reality
their lives were spent within a pod.
In Baudrillard, a simulacra is "a copy without an original." This is
the exact nature of the matrix. In the film, twentieth century earth is
gone. The real world is a nuclear wasteland. Cities are left charred and
empty. Life on earth is only possible beneath the surface where it is
still warm after the humans scorched the sky in resistance. But an exact
copy exists in the form of a computer program. People are living life in a
simulacra, a copy which is its own reality. According to Baudrillard,
exploring this type of pseudo-reality is the next step for modern science
fiction. Early science fiction projected the pioneer impulse onto outer
space. A brief survey of science fiction literature from Buck Rogers to
Star Trek reveals that older forms of science fiction are nothing more than
pioneers fighting Indians to conquer new territory. Nothing is changed in
their world but the clothing, weaponry and the enemy. While our planet
still carried with it some element of mystery, so long as there was a
frontier, the human imagination could project it.
In the past, the new frontier has been outer space. This frontier is
now over saturated and gone, and with it the older forms of science
fiction. Baudrillard says that science fiction will take a new direction,
"it will be to put decentered situations, models of simulation in place and
to contrive to give them the feeling of the real, of the banal, of lived
experience, to reinvent the real as fiction, precisely because it has
disappeared from our life. Hallucination of the real, of lived experience,
of the quotidian, but reconstituted, sometimes down to disquietingly
strange details. The very world of the matrix was a "model of
simulation" giving the feeling of the real, done so for the sake of
maintaining control and reducing human beings to slave energy sources
feeding the system upon which they are dependent for their survival.
This is the world in which we live. We work to earn money. We
spend the money in grocery and clothing stores; paying our mortgages;
living as model citizens for the sake of our survival. We take money from
the system and feed it back into the system, like cattle fertilizing the
ground upon which they graze. The film assumed that reducing a human being
to a slave was an intolerable, dehumanizing condition. Neo is the Christ
figure. He has miraculous powers within the matrix. He was betrayed by
the Judas figure, Cipher, and he dies and returns to life. He is "the One"
who is destined to take control of the matrix and end it, freeing humanity
from its servile condition. Morpheus (the god of the dream world in Greek
mythology) plays a John the Baptist figure. He serves as a herald
declaring the arrival of Neo the savior. Most importantly, he shows Neo
that he is "the One" come to free humanity from the world of the matrix.
Within the film, the central opposition was between truth and
comfort. Cipher chose to betray his friends in order to be reinserted into
the matrix and live an enjoyable life with no memory of his past betrayals.
However false his reality, he preferred it to the harsh "real world"
outside the matrix. Morpheus, Neo, and those who followed them chose
reality regardless of the cost and fought the matrix whenever possible.
These are the decisions we must face in our real world environment.
Recognizing that we are enslaved by a system is the first step. In
The Matrix, we as a human race identify with the copy - the matrix world.
What does this mean? It means that we must realize just as Neo did that
it is not the real world. Once we come to this realization, we will be
able to break free of our shackles.
The next step involves a willingness to sacrifice safety for
freedom. All of the film's protagonists took both these steps. Is there
something beyond them? The chapter of Simulacra and Simulation entitled
"On Nihilism" advocates terrorism as the means of "checking in broad
daylight" the mechanisms of control. But it observes that the system is
itself nihilistic and can even absorb violence into its indifference, as
does the human world. Thus, to Baudrillard, the problem seems insoluble.
This advocacy of terrorism explains the violence permeating the
film. Does the film point to a solution? In the end, Neo has realized his
identity and power within the matrix and has achieved supremacy over it.
But what then? Within the world there are billions of people are in pods,
unaware of their true condition and not ready for the real world as it is.
What would happen to these billions should the system suddenly shut down?
The world is not capable of feeding this many people all at once nor is it
capable of giving them shelter or a life to live. Should Morpheus and Neo
shut down the program and condemn millions to death? Is such an
insurrection justified in the service of humanity, especially when the only
alternative is to allow the system to continue, which is also unacceptable?
What needs to happen is that the mind of the system has to be controlled by
humans again. The malevolent computer needs to be lobotomized and then
controlled. It needs to be stopped from breeding more human beings, and
those in pods need to be awakened, as they are able. Those unable to adapt
could be allowed to live out their lives to their virtual state. When they
die, they won't be replaced. Within a generation the computer could be shut
down.
In our world, however, can human beings ever control the system?
Do they really want to control the system? Reality has a tendency to blur
the lines between what is wanted and what is needed. What is wanted can be
symbolized by Neo's hollowed out book, something familiar and
comforting but false. What is needed is symbolized by the contents (hacked
material), dangerous, unsettling but true.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
STORY by Raindog151 aka THE MIGHTY DAN NAGY
have you even seen a bare tennis ball? an old dunlop ball, fuzzless
and hard from the weather and a thousand overhead serves? it's grace left
long ago, the minute it left it's oddly futuristic plastic casing. slowly
rolling in lazy circles no larger than one inch in diameter along side the
empty sports drink bottle and highly salt based chip wrapper. rolling
lazily without a care in the world, never worried about either being lobbed
or bounced by a lonely child. me? i get the raving fantods about it.
fantods tends to be the word i use as an adjective lately, as
everything seems to give me that feeling. i'd pretty much given that one
my own set of definitions, never mind the britannica loons, sitting in
their posh offices all day arguing about the Alan Read origin of OK or
Okay or O.K., depending on your academics. I can imagine them fiercly
debating the proliferations of Orl Korrect and Old Kinderhook, Martin Van
Buren's handle back during the 1840's presidential race.
but back to the fantods. i walk down the street and see teachers
outside a school conversing with students and i get a crawl up the nape of
my neck. i watch three minutes of the six o'clock news and start squirming
in the comfort of my own home. everything is amiss. the sugary
confectioneries at supermarket bakeries make me run to the opposite end of
the store, pretending to look at frozen food items, fighting off the
shivers that are just amplified by the cold air that permeates the entire
area.
due to all this, all my dinners tend to be frozen foods. a entirely
macabre assortment of fish and beef dinners, turkey croquettes, assorted
vegetables, microwavable foods of an entirely underestimated tex-mex
variety and of course one obligatory frozen bowl of campbell's cream of
mushroom soup, never intended as edible, merely the cornucopia of my
neverending supply of perishable foods.
did i also mention how the oven gives me the fear? gas hissing
silently until ignited by an ohio blue tip match. it has to be manually
turned on and off every time it's used. exempting making the occasional
plate of eggs, i use the microwave. i know one of these days i'll forget
to turn the little blue valve behind the stove to the off position, which
i can never remember if it's up or down, so i have to try to light the
stove on both settings until i'm pleased with its actions.
the microwave at work has paid it's homage to my frozen meals, just
as i've paid my apologies to the people at work for it. i can't really
help the fact that these meals take 20 minutes or so inside the water
heating radiation. i've tried letting them thaw overnight in a thermal bag
in order to cut down on microwave time, but i just woke up to salisbury
steak and cherry cobbler weakly trying to fight its way out of the plastic
covering. now i mostly microwave it until it's just warm enough to eat and
usually it's fine except if the meal contains mashed potatoes.
have you ever looked closely at mashed potatoes in a frozen meal?
they give the word potato flakes new meaning. if you look closely enough
you can see unique snow crystal shaped design in each individual flake. if
you looked long enough and hard enough, you could probably isolate the
potato flake atom, mastering the universe in the way that people did before
the electron microscope and periodical tables. if my lunch hour allowed
me, i bet i could change the entire face of theoretical science all in
thanks to the people of the Swanson Co. in Camden, NJ.
my bathroom schedule has gotten quite regular due to my food intake.
i fall into an odd catagory of people, aged 21-34, who look behind the
shower curtain every time i enter the bathroom. i suppose i could just
leave it open all the time, but what if i have company? the fantods will
appear again, wondering if they're appalled by the state of my shower.
even if i did leave it open, you can only push so much to either side of
the rod, and i would still be compelled to peek around the corner. i find
myself reading newsweek in the bathroom, trying to add normalcy to my
life, happily find i fit into the 84 percent of americans that pours
shampoo onto their hand, rather than on their head in the shower.
finding meaning in the world has never really been my specialty, but
always my largest need. i get the fantods on those nights, and you know
those nights. the nights where it's much too early to sleep, but you're
too tired to watch another rerun of some sitcom you never even watched
when it was first on. those nights, staring at the ceiling or out the
window, with that one impossible metaphysical question in your head. even
if you do fathom an answer, another one instantly pops up, both just
turning into more questions. infinite loop. the rott- en tennis ball,
swirling idly in its one inch circle in the corner of the expanse the court
offers, it sits there. infinitely rolling on its exposed seams, never going
anywhere and that gives me the worst set of all.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Taken from The Obloid Sphere BBS
DATE: August 7, 2000
BY: Anakin
SUBJECT: Greatest movie of all time
Okay so this is probably no surprise because of my handle but I
think hands down star wars episode 1 the phantom menace is the GREATEST
MOVIE OF ALL TIME. It is AMAZING how it parallels the bible, though I
don't know why I'm making an intelligent reference on THIS place because
you are all so dumb ha ha just kidding but seriously, this movie is GREAT.
It blows the first three jokes away.
The first three movies get so much acclaim, and most people think
because my name is Anakin that I like them too, but I DO NOT, I THINK
THEY SUCK. Phantom Menace kicked ALL of their asses - I mean come on
just look at the special effects. They are so much better, and they
totally make you feel THERE, unlike the first ones that make you feel
like you're in a theater watching a crappy experiment or something.
What I hate most about the first movies were stupid characters
like EWOKS and CHEWBACCA both just made so that dolls could be sold.
The Phantom Menace made it so that every character was integral into
the main story line - which was classic good vs. evil. In the first
movies there is doubt which is good and which is evil, and I think they
did that to be all smart and artsy and shit, but when you blur those
lines you blur the likeability of your film. In Phantom Menace you KNEW
who was the bad guy right away, and then you were happy when they got
mostly destroyed at the end. And I like how they made the bad guys those
robots that all looked alike, so you wouldn't get personal with them.
Need I say more? The special effects people... just think about
those in your head when you think of this movie. Do you know how many
people were actually in the movie? I think like two real humans, the
rest special effects! Just kidding! But you see what I mean, right?
Anyway, I know a lot of what I said will only make sense to film
people, but I know this is a board so I should express my views like
anyone else, whether or not they can fully understand them.
HERE COMES MY SIG! (That's a light sabre, assholes!)
Anakin
[))))))]==============
The LightSabre
www.starwars.com
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
REALLY GOTHIC TEXT FILE by Effy
BbBBB
b lB
B_ob
B ob ***
b DB ll [^/^]
BbBBb LL (O) \
lu AAAAA \
<------ sL------ AN AA------------> -----------
Lt AAGAA CCCCCC \
LLLLLL AA SA CaCcc ---- \-666->
AA AT Cc KK LK \
CtCcc Kk LL \
CCsCCC KKiI / \
Kk LL / \
KK LK - -
NN \ /
NN @ @
NNNNN OoOoO 111111
NN NN o O 11
NN NN O O 11--->. . .
NN NN O o 11
NN NN OoOoO 111111
Monday, July 1:59:29 AM
<effy> irc is worse than death.
<thext> death is nothing. death is only a marker, a beacon.
<effy> death is but a door.
<kraft> death smells like playdoh.
<effy> deeeeeeeeeath
\ /
\ /
@a@a@a@ heY!!! i see you've found me!!!
@a@a@a@a@ i want to tell you all about
a@ ~ ~ @a o how GOTH i am, yEAH! ehehehe
@a * * a@ O i am so evil evvvv im an eeev
a@ / @a o eeeveeevillian heheheeeheee!
@a _o_ a@ angst, death, ahhhheeeheh!@##
I
I
<------->
I
I
______________^___________
\
r.I.P!$@!#! \
\
/////////////////////////////
WAAAAAAHH!!!
O MAMAAAWAAA@!
oOo o GLURGUHHH... *HEY, LooKie!. I like
/..\ O to STAB BABIES & then
- o EAT THEM, HAHAHAHAHA!*
/ \
/ <--\---
( . )
/ \
~ ~ ~~~
~ ~~~ ~~~ ~ ~
_-_~~ ~~~ ~ ~~
/ / ~ ~~ ~~ ~ ~
/ / ~~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~
/ / ~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~ ~~
/ m/ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~
/ u/ <---------------------- I will burn out your
/ r/ ~~~~~~ ~ ~~~ ~~ <--FUCKING EYES@!-->
/ a/ ~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~~~
/ j/ ~ ~~ ~~ ~ ~~
/ d/ ~~ ~ ~~
--- ~~~ ~
I dig up witches' graves &
steal their fingernails! =) \ /
\ /
@a@a@a@
I_I @a@a@a@a@
I a@ ~ ~ @a
I @a * * a@
/-----------------------\ I a@ / @a
/ *burn* \ I @a _o_ a@
/ in HELL \ ---- I
/ *WITCH* \ / / I
///////////////////////////////////////////// ---- ////////////////////
EXISTENCE: THE REFLECTION OF MAN'S ETERNAL MISERY
by Kreid
As I sit here, rotting in my own despair, I am confused about many
things. But one thing always remains clear: we are all doomed to die in
the worlds of torment and misery that we have created for ourselves!
Why must man suffer? The answer is simple: because suffering is
all, all is suffering. There is no release, no escape, no alternative...
to the agony we must feel. Suffering is the very substance from which
our lives are made. It is the flesh and bones of our very existence!
Some think that salvation will come with death, but they are
wrong, oh! they are so very wrong. Death is an escape, but no
salvation lies past it. It will only bring darkness, eternal
darkness -- a kind of suffering that is equivalent to the agony of
life... darkness! Alive or dead, it is a world which offers no relief
from the worthlessness of our dark, miserable existence.
No, there is no light at the end of the tunnel! The end may
appear to be light, but it is really dark. So dark, in fact, that
it becomes light. Like the apple that rots and is eaten by the worm,
like rotting flesh, the darkest dark is that which is light.
Yes, my friend, we are utterly fucked. Fucked by our own
hope. So fuck it.
Peace.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Msg#2600 Conf: Perversions
From: Speedy Gonzales Date: Fri Dec 03 20:19:55 1993
To : Squinky Type: Public
Subject: War on Drugs...Prizon space
WHO CARES IF THEY DIE?!?! WHO CARES?! These people... HUMAN BEINGS are
just like you and me... they have mothers and fathers and brothers and
sister. All of these people as well as all of their friends and other
relatives care as well as many others, like me, so please, DO NOT TELL ME
THAT NOBODY CARES AND THEIR DEATH MEANS NOTHING.
Area 'Perversions' (#5)
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
BLACK FRANCIS VERSUS Y-WINDOZE
Taken from the Sysop Chat logs of Goat Blowers Anonymous
3:07 am Mon Apr 3, 1995
Recorded with user: Nobody
Chat reason: None
------------------------------------
a who the fuck iack.. who is this?
this is y
I WAS RMED!@#!@#
I HAD PCR TECHNIQUE@#
no you didn't
yhea like Id id
I rno00led.
no, because, i have no pcr, which means - in effect - you can't have a pcr
technique
Like I was posting a lot to get the warez n stuph and the kids erdrrrr
PCITURES OF LITTLE KIDS
you posted crap
Yhea well uh hate to tell you but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I think can figure it
out
uhm. whatever you say,man. i deleted you.
Fine I will just busy out your board forever then
haovre turfunn your line off
and your power
and kill your mother
1) i have no phone
2) i have no power
3) i have no mother
3 IS A LIE I KNOW YOU DO
ADMIT IT
nope. don't got one.
Lies lies lies I was validated!@#!@# I posted good things!@#
no, you did not.
Uh they were at least as good as what was posted.
not really. they were all extremely asinine and everyone on the conference
voted you had no purpose on this bbs.
I can do ascii art.
who can't?
Uh you have no clue who I am
I should smite you
have fun
mogul loves me
well, i don't know a mogul, but i do know a mogel
Same difference, like, your nothing but a bunch of idiot no talent having
writing geeks, I MEAN LOOK DRUNKFUX CALLS HERE THAT FAT NON SHOWERING
BASTARD
well, then why do you even bother calling?
I love you all.
that's great and all, but, that's no reason to call if you truely think
we're no-talent geeks. judging by your lack of grasping the english
language, i can tell you're a very un-talented writer as well.
Ok mister run-on sentence but like you ahve to admit asking to trade
baseball cards was elite JUST PLAIN ELITE
that was pretty funny, and, uhm, that's not a run-on sentence. that was.
but the one before was not.
and moding candy phones rocked too, and I had good poetry, I KIST FEEL er
damn I AM STILL DRUNX but I still think there isnt enoufh love here. I
care for you and you are just tossing me away like I am nothing to you.
this is true. the candy phone thing was fairly dull and the poetry was
just flat out unoriginal. you really have no place on this board. you're
2400, for crissakes (outdial, yes, but still..)
uh baeheheahheaheahea your uhm whats the word, do you like get on your
board a kit when you come home from your job at MickeyDs?
uh. huh? le
t me YOUbrR A LOSER
OlNe At BmeB S
m
BBS
WHO LOOKS AT THE KEYBOARD TO TYPE
uhm no
uhm yhea
great comeback
Uhm oh yhea?
oh please.
Uhmmmmmmm oh yhea?!@?#!@# <-- dramatic pause
until you learn to post intelligently, you have no place on this bbs
Until like this outdial dies I will try and convey my love.
uh. yeah.
Uh yhea, your just mad cuz I like mogel more.
hmm.. if you say so.
Yhea well I did, pretty rdundant of you. so I was wondering about the PEz
thing
IS IT ANOTwHhER LAME TFILE?
er.. basically
Oh sad. I used to write one long ago but then even I grew up.
really? wow. that's pretty weird since you're barely literate.
TRUE YOU GOT ME THEERE but back in my phrack days I was god.
oh really. well, uh, yeah. warez rule.
yhea like are you a BoW nigger?
do you like soup?
What kind?
any kind. soup in general.
Hot soup or cold soup?
any kind of fucking soup.
With or without condiments?
it was funny for about a second. blah to you.
big long and hairy?
no. blah.
NO I MEANT THE TFILE U MORON
iW HkAnTow AREyou i diotYOU
12
?
ARE YOU 12?
no. i'm 18.
Oh. er.
i know what blah is, but i meant it in the sense of the word/sound "blah"
Your like just a tad to anal, do you ever enjoy life?
not really.
Oh are you an art-fag?
nope.
Hmmm wear lots of black?
no way.
I bet you watch EmptV
nope. don't watch tv.
Damn. Cuz like I love brenda on tv.
yeah. i bet you do.
Well only in a kill her and have her naked body mounted on my mantle wau
but not in a sexual way.
hey. i bet you think you're funny.
Uh I bet you think your c00l, you graduate yet?
nope nope. taking a haitus.
GEDS are c00l huhuuhuhuhuhuh
nope. starting again next september. geds don't get you shit.
"dropping out from school, guess it wasnt so cool" So like you should
love me I deserve it.
urge overkill sucks and, no, i _temporarily_ dropped out. i do not
love you. you make my nipples erect, but that is not a true sign of love.
why are you pestering me?
Well it all started when I was 3. And my doh sparku died, I loved hima lot
but he
hot hehyit by a
car.
heyyes.?
psst.. you're not funny. pass it on.
OH THAT WAS WITTY
JESUS YOUR AN IDIOT
I WILL TURN UR PHONEZ OFF NOW
U HAVE NO CL)000000 HOO I AM
U WILL BE SMITED
that was an intelligent paragraph
yhea anyways hang up on me so I can start having fun
ok
=> User disconnected
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
The fight of the century: Cerkit vs. Preceptor
by Hooch [5/96]
the following is a transcript of a scheduled verbal battle that took place
at the raritan computer festival between cerkit and preceptor. some of you
may have been following their fight(s) on irc and on y0lknet. that's nice.
rules:
- no physical fighting
- cerkit may not expose himself to anybody, for fear of excessive laughing
leading to hospitilization of the exposees.
-- start --
cerkit; dude, you're a LAMER. not only that, but you live in NEW JERSEY.
do you know what that means? you live in the SUBURBS. go mow your
lawn.
preceptor; umm.. have you ever kissed a girl?
cerkit; if you look at that from a transgressive progression, then you
could see the entire properties of that proclusive but yet
provokative question. if you see it from the Berhiem angle,
developed by the late, but terribly ingraciating, Dr. Arnold
Berhiem, you could see the immediate jocoseness of the question,
and subliminally induce yourself to varied forms of lactose.
preceptor; *laughing hysterically* hahahaha. you're a dork. anybody have a
bottle opener?
cerkit; <crying> please don't hurt me! my friends told me you were smaller
than you are! i didn't mean to hurt your feelings, dude! i'm from
philly, man, my mommie taught me to talk tough! what could i do?!
i'm sorry, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please
don't--
preceptor; just go away, or i'll beat you into a pulp you 5'7"/120 lb.
pansy.
--- end ---
as you can see, it was a very entertaining (and at times, horrifying)
affair that ended in cerkit showing his true colors. sure, he may talk
tough on irc (which is VERY manly and becoming, in my opinion), but he
doesn't have shit in real life. remember that.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 11:44:45 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: erik@oldmanmurray.com
Subject: hehehe
jehhehehe lyke u no u r pretty kewl my bf rilly lykes u'r gaming reviws n
got me hooked on u'r sight but u did somethin pretty bad u no i don't
rilly mine cuz its aobut daikatana but lyke hehehe u no u r sinken to
there level if u no wut i meen hehe u do :) hehhe i m talken bout u'r
quote from daikatana reviw hehehehe u r a bad boy! :) heheheh u didn't put
the quote in hehhe context u freekie ;) hehehe the arthur is just dissen
on wut he sees as a poor port n does not think it representative of PC
hehehehehehe so u sort of maken things seem lyke they r not ;) hehehehe
but hehehehe it's fucken john romero so .... hhehehehe
hehehehheheehehehheheeh n e way rite bak!
From: "Erik" <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
To: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 11:48:54 -0400
Subject: Re: hehehe
Thanks, man. Glad you enjoyed your visit. I totally agree that
Daikatana will probably stink as much as the reviewer said it
would, so no need to point it out to me.
-Erik
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 12:42:17 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: Erik <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
Subject: Re: hehehe
hehehehe no u r missen my point completely hehehehehe ;) 1st i m not a man
i m a girl 16/yr frm CA hehehe i liv in LA silly ;) secondly hhehehe i m
pointen out that u did sum bad things u bad boy hehehhe ;) becuz u didn't
use context when u quoted heheheh ;0 if you were in my history class u
would get failed cuz my teecher Mr. Diponio is tuff ;) but u can't do wut
u did which wuz assume that the daikatana review of n64 is representative
of PC version when the reviewr hehehe he sez himself that u can not use it
as a reviwer of PC version which is wht u implied u bad boy eheheh u see
wut i meen? ;)
From: "Erik" <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
To: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 12:58:42 -0400
Subject: Re: hehehe
Thanks for clearing that up. I think you may have inferred more
than I implied. Seriously. I'm absolutely, completely content to
report that the nintendo version stinks. I mean, christ, that's
enough. Look at the box - it's still John Romero's Daikatana. In
fact, the n64 version will cost people *more* money than the still
potentially excellent PC version.
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 21:04:46 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: Erik <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
Subject: Re: hehehe
heheheh u no the worst thin bout john romero is how uglie he is he is lyke
the sk8r tony hawk who is not hot at all u no sk8r boys who kin rilly sk8
r very uglie but the 1s that kin not r cute like my bf he is very cute but
kin n0t sk8 for the world hehehehe whenever i see him i am lyke "oh my god
sex ;)" hehehehe u no wut i mean? wut is it lyke to run a site lyke old
man murray? i wanted to run a sight 2 but i du not think i have n e thing
2 say u guyz r the best cuz u stick it to da man n u say games suck not
lyke that asian thresh who sux cuz he jus sux up 2 every 1 hehehe u no i
bet he was picked on in skewl i m pretty unpopular in my skewl cuz they o
not lyke girls with dyed hair who dress in all blak and date sk8rs hehehe
;) but it is good cuz all the guys who lyke popular girls are jus date
rapists anyone this one kid justin raped my friend krystal but she is a
dumb cunt cuz i told her it would happen hehehehehhe wut is u'r favorite
game? i lyke old skewl ones like out of this world and maybe new quake 3
buit it kinda sucked 2 i saw u'r logo in it! rite bak, k?
Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 13:21:33 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: erik@oldmanmurray.com
Subject: UO: renissince
hehehehehehhe u sure stuck it origin eheheh ;) i don' lyke that company
ever since wing commander started having luke from star warz in it instead
of that blue hair heheheh he wuz my favorite u no? yeah u no hehehe did
you not get my last piece of mail? u did not respond! :( n e way i wanna
ask u wut do u think is wrong with game cumpanies that they think they kin
do that to us? i don't lyke how they mistreat me n u n every 1 else it sux
:) wut the fuck is reniissince n e way? some bullshit bout italians and
fuckin court jesters hehehe i lyked that jester in ultima v when he said
rhymes hehehe that rox hehehehe n e way! rite bax!!!! ;)
From: "Erik" <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
To: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 13:21:10 -0400
Subject: Re: UO: renissince
You may be the only sixteen year old girl on the planet who played
Ultima 5. Could you adopt a new persona who says the same
things, but in a more readable format?
Your pal,
Erik
Date: Fri, 14 Apr 2000 13:47:01 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: Erik <erik@oldmanmurray.com>
Subject: Re: UO: renissince
heheheh i played ultima v cuz my ol' bro had hehe the nes port of it heheh
u no or mebbie his sega master system hehehe i dunno but i remember the
port hehehe i played it lthen n then i got the heeh the WARE hehehehe ;)
:) hehehehehheheeh the WARE hehehehe n e way it sux of course but it is
still fun memories u no? yeh u no... y don't u believe me? y do u say get
a new persona when i m the only persona i no how to be heheheh eme!!!
ninrox!!! heheheheh ;) heheheh r u saying that i m not readable my bf is
reedz my files n all of hoe lyked my file that i wrote about sk8rs hehehe
u no they r cute hehehehe n e way how is u'r day? how r u doin'?
hehehe!!!!! rite bax!!!!
Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2000 13:39:04 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: erik@oldmanmurray.com
Subject: hehehehheh spam positive thought
hehehehehehhe u silly ;) heheheheh u said we lost the cold war to mother
russia hehehehehehehhe ;) i git the joke heheheh the inversion of the
"truth" jejejejejjejehehehe u no how 2 make us all lauf wit the jokes but
hehehehhe u no that joke presunes that every 1 belives that we won the
cold war heheheheh but wit the rise of a former career KGB man can u
really say the cold war is over? in addition to hehehehehe the election of
Putin hehehehe u cod argew that the cold war heheheh did not end but was
minorly put on hiatus due only to the incompetence of Yelstin hehehehe
also u might bring up the recently signed Status II treaty hehehehe but
then u would have to realize that hehehehehhe there are still 3000-3500
missles on both sides heheheheh how r u? right bax!
Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2000 22:04:58 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: erik@oldmanmurray.com
Subject: fucken crates :(
hehehe u shure showed them bout u'r fuckin' crates all over tha fucken
place u no that shit pisses me off hehehe cuz lyke u no i hate fps but it
is awl i kin play now u no u guys were rite thief 2 sux cuz like they
reuse levels form thief 1 in it and they reususe soem levels from thief 2
twice in the game and the last level is just u goin' around 2 make parts
lyke a fucken autowerker in detroit hahehehhe u guys daikatana SUCKED
hehehe the demo i meen that shit is fucken unbeeleavably bad hehehe u no i
never played nothin so bad b4 hehehehe well not true but u no lots of that
shit sucks but not so bad as fucken hjohn fucken remero daikatana shit
that shit sux
hehehehehee rite bax u silly b0y!
Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2000 12:41:48 -0400 (EDT)
From: "NIN RULEZ!#!@" <nin@entropy.tmok.com>
To: erik@oldmanmurray.com
Subject: hehehe u rox
heheheh u rox hehehe i lyke how u ook pix of john romero n put them over
that elian shit hehehhehehehehehe i hate that lil fuk (hehehe both of 'em)
hehehe yeh they r shit hehehhe yo dakiatana demo sux heheheh did u see
that shit? it suxckd so fucken bad it makes me want to cry hehehehe u no i
don't know if fps is even good n e more heheheh that shit is getting lame
and wack hehehehe u no it is suxy hehehehehe u should rant about that shit
heheheh cuz lyke somethin needs to happen heheheh good thing i pir8
everything heheheh or else i'd have to pay for all this shit heheheheheh u
no gamen sux for a long time now heheheh it sucked b4 2 but now it really
sux hehehehehe u no romero is a fucken shit head hehehehe that shit is
wack hehehe flying lions is lyke the receipe heheheh for queer hehehe yeah
hehehe u no fucken shit u have not write bax!!! :( u r making me sad!!!!
rite bax!!!!!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Fri, 18 Aug 2000 00:52:51 EDT
From: AphexTwin23@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
"A Trip Through Life"
It's crazy how we meet different people through others every day of
our lives and although we probably won't see the person ever again...we
just take it for granted. And then if we ever do see the person again we
just recognize them by appearance but just walk on by them because you're
only acquaintences. It's weird. You never really see who they really are
as a person. We just skim by on what we know.
I like to be observant. Study a person. Really see who they are...
what kind of person they are. I like to become aware of my surroundings
because when you think about it...you're only going to have THIS moment
once in your lifetime. So why not savor it's every bite?
It's crazy how you can meet someone and only talk to them for a few
mintues but never think of them again. But then some day you might become
good friends, or have a relationship together, or really get to know each
other. You would have never guessed it'd happen, but it does.
Like today...I met some Jon guy at Perkins. Didn't really talk to
him but just by listening to him, looking at him, I figured out who he
might be. I confuse myself. haha. He was kind of fucked up. Hyper,
nervous, paranoid, but yet he was one of those people that you could never
hate.
I sometimes feel that I know more about a person than they know.
Just because I guess I think too much. Way too much. I sometimes just
zone off into my own little world because I get to thinking. Thinking
about What If. That messes you up.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Sun, 13 Aug 2000 01:31:34 -0700
From: "mdawg666" <mdawg666@email.msn.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: FAG DAD
"Hey, son, how's school?" Sez dad, walking into the kitchen wearing
sandals, track shorts, and a mesh tanktop, with all of his body hair shaved
off. "Fine, Dad," says the son, while he thinks inwardly "dad sucks dicks.
think about it. i come from a man, i mean from a woman, and the rest one
little semen that outlived all the others in its burst node, but the guy
likes a big dick! in his mouth!" then the son pretends to eat, having
finished thinking for the moment. "hey son," says the dad, "is something
weird? something you don't want to discuss?" Says dad, doing some balletic
hamstring stretches... "because if there's something you don't want to talk
about... geez, i need to shower right about now!"
"kay dad" says the son. "Faggot" he thinks.
Fag dad in the bathroom. Undresses slowly in front of a steaming
mirror. Is nude. Traces a steam heart of mirror image curves around his
head. Looks down and seed his new dragon tattoo high up on his inner
thigh. Gets in the shower. Considers playing with his asshole. Gives in
to the feeling beneath the steaming water. The son is not welcome at
school. Since the last 2 years since his father had acknowledged
homosexuality, and his hippie mother forgave the father, so they stayed
together to raise the kid while seeing other people and being divorced,
except men would not approach his mother. They would, however approach his
father. just as the kid is going upstairs for his football fag dad opens
the door of the bathroom. Steam goes into the air and he feels the
temparature of the room as being a lot colder than it is. Fag Dad's skin
tightens, at most points on his body. The kid looks at him, it being kind
of hard to get away from dad issues, fag or no. Dad has a thin smile.
His skin is flushed and rosy from the shower.
"do you want a ride to school, kid?" hisses Fag Dad.
"uh, not really dad. I'm ready to leave except for my football, and
you're, you know..."
"I could go like this right now," retorts fag dad, "they would just
think i wasn't wearing a SHIRT!" and winks.
"bye, dad," says the KID, and runs.
Fag Dad stops for a moment. alone, in the house, he lets a lot of
his straightness fall. Makes a skirt out of the towel. Prances a little
on his thin toes. Plays with his tits as he walks, ruminatively. Gets a
belt and starts pulling it out tight and hard as he walks. Meanwhile the
KID sits on the bench, the kid awaits the bus with an empty, convict's
face. He see the bus coming from the left. Sees faces in the bus as it
approaches. By the time the kid had boarded the bus and been beaten all
the way to school, fag dad fought his impulse to have hot cock rubbing
musk smelling homosexual sex right now. Gives in to urge. Gets out the
phone, beep(7)... who's he on the line with? Why, none other than THE
BOYFRIEND! And it turns out that THE BOYFRIEND has been doing the exact
same thing in his apartment, in the 21st century anno-deadjesus. Right in
the middle of Salt Lake City Utah, both of them not only excited about
porkin one or 'tother but also about the pretty, oscars and hammerstein
vibe of the ACTUAL OLYMPICS which now anchors THE KID, FAG DAD and THE
BOYFRIEND to an event in actual time.
Fag Dad lies on the bed, face down among the satin pillows. Thinks
about this: spending 10AM to 5:15 PM in vigorous ass sex? Tiring. But,
The Kid and Ex Wife are due home soon. He dresses. doesn't shower.
Figures hey, he's got some rut smell. Some other guy's cock smell. Who
doesn't? The Kid was so severely abused at school today he took to
sitting in the Janitor's Mop closet all day, calculating through the
pass-fail math to see how much longer until they fail him out of school.
The kid listens intently. He hears the classes let out. Walking, talking.
Next class. Repeat. Between classes footsteps are rarer, usually adults
or people on their way to the toilets. The Ex Wife is happy about this
family situation because she has thought everything through logically.
Everything being done here is for the benefit of the Kid. Why make Fag Dad
suppress his impulses? He is good enough to keep Boyfriend away from
The Kid and her. Better that the Kid have a father and a mother who live
in the same house, and better still that he is learning something else
too: that Fag Dad is his real dad. Likes penis better than Vagina? So
does the Ex Wife! Ex Wife sez aight, I ain't stress over Tha Kid
knowhatumsayin?
But now peep dis: how the fuck is this kid gonna get home?
He duckin up and down avenues, tryin an see who around. He gets to this
street. Scary street. Bad street to be on? Sure. But there is something
working to the Kid's advantage here. These kids? They SCARED of this here
street. Why? Cause they know the people on dis street would str8 fuck
dem up an shit. Kid gets to the busstop.
Ex Wife and Fag Dad sit together. They talk about business a lot,
personal matters, fashion, popular psychology and home care. Fag Dad is
wearing designer blue jeans, a five hundred dollar plaid button down and
the same sandals he was wearing before. Sometimes Fag Dad will reach
forward with his index finger and touch the top of the knee of the wife in
a way that is removed of sexuality. Waitin for the kid, mostly. They didn't
have to wait much longer.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
KEVIN SMITH MOVIES FOR DUMMIES by Linear
Wait! Before you read this file, although I reccomend you avoid
reading it at all, you should go out and rent/buy the four Kevin Smith
movies - the four movies which were written/directed/acted in by Kevin
Smith - unless you have already seen these four movies, and remember them
pretty well. Be sure to watch these movies in the order they were made,
simply for nostalgic purposes. By the way, the four movies, and the order
in which they were made, are as follows:
Clerks
Mallsrats
Chasing Amy
Dogma
Now that you've seen the movies and have obtained an appreciation
for the beauty they are, let's go over the subtle things you might have
missed. I can obviously not go over all these things, as I myself have
certainly missed a lot of them as well. I'll only be going over the ones
I know of. And of course, none of the conclusions I draw have not been
officially verified by Kevin Smith or anything, they're just my different
theories and such.
Now, they don't make it obvious and spell it out for you, but it
doesn't take all that much brain power for one to figure out that all four
movies connect in a small way. And with these small connections in between
films is how I managed to come up with these theories.
As was already stated, the movies came out in the order of Clerks,
Mallrats Chasing Amy, and then Dogma. But, much like the Star Wars movies
weren't released in the propper order according to when they happned in
time, it is my belief that the KS movies were also released out of order,
according to when the actual events where to have actually happened,
relating to each other (still with me?).
Although not released in this order, I think the movies actually
took place (fictionally took place, of course) in the following order -
Mallrats, Clerks, Dogma, and then Chasing Amy. Why? Allow me to
elaborate!
In Clerks, Dante and Randal go to Julie Dwyers' wake. In Mallrats,
Julie Dwyer had just died in the pool the night before. Now, a wake
couldn't possibly be set up over night (ruling out the possibility that
Mallrats and Clerks happened at the same time). It takes at least a couple
of days to get a wake together! You have to make reservations with place
that the wake will be held, you have to send out reservations to the family
and loved ones of the deceased, and any other planning that might have to
do with wake. So therefore, if Julie died only a day before Mallrats took
place, and the wake was already set up for the same day that Clerks took
place, then Clerks must have taken place, say, a week after Mallrats.
And that explains that. The next conclusion of Dogma coming after
Mallrats is a little more complicated to explain. First, to understand why
Dogma had to have happened after Mallrats, and not after Chasing Amy, we
must understand that bot Mallrats and Dogma actually never truly took
place, even in the world of fiction. They themselves were both works of
fiction created by works of fiction... Now I know you must be lost.
Explaination: Mallrats was a comic book written by the guys in
Chasing Amy (Holden and Banky). Thereby making it a work of fiction made
by works of fiction (Holden and Banky!). There is evidence supporting this
theory given in Chasing Amy. First of all, the Comic Book written by Holden
and Banky in entitled "Bluntman and Chronic" features Jay and Silent Bob as
the superheros. In Mallrats, they act as somewhat of superheros - trying
to destroy the stage with various methods, saving TS and Broadie from the
cops, escaping from the cops with super-human like speed, hiding from the
cops using superhero like methods, and finally, playing the video tape at
the end of the movie for Broadie, alowing him to avoid arrest and win back
the love of Rene! Throughout the movie, Jay says such things as "Snoochie
Boochies". Now, all this stuff alone is not enough evidence to say that
Mallrats was actually a "Bluntman and Chronic" issue, but Jay's statement
in Chasing Amy of "But that aint like us at all, all slap-sticky and
running around and shit. And what's that shit you got us saying......
Snoochie Boochies? Who the fuck talks like that? That's fucking baby
talk!" gives us more than enough to believe that Mallrats was in fact, a
comic book!
Now, where that proves that Mallrats was a comic book, it doesn't
explain why Dogma was as well. In Dogma, there is really only one line in
the movie that links it to all the other movies (besides the fact that Jay
and Silent Bob are in all four movies). This line takes place as Bethany
walks into the same train car that Jay and Silent Bob are on. You can hear
Jay saying in the background something along the lines of "yeah, one time
we tied this tubby bitch to the ceiling of a mall...". This is the only
evidence we have of Dogma being a comic (because they never really tied
Silent Bob to the roof of a mall, that scene was in Mallrats, which was a
comic book!), besides the fact that Dogma was all about saving the world
and what not.
Okay, this explains why Mallrats and Dogma are comic books created
by the guys in Chasing Amy, but it doesn't explain why Dogma took place
after Mallrats. To explain this, we must take a look at the events that
happened at the end of Chasin Amy.... they kill off Chronic (Jay)! Thereby
ending the comic. Well, as we see in the Dogma comic, Jay is alive and
well, therefore the comic had to have been written BEFORE Chronic died,
thereby BEFORE Chasing Amy! See? It all makes sense now!
Chasing Amy probaby happened anywhere from 5 to ten years after
Mallrats, simply because they speak of the Julie Dwyer incident as if it
had happened quite a while ago.
And so concludes my Kevin Smith timescale theory. Here's a few
other things worth mentioning - In Mallrats, after being chased by LaFours,
Jay says something close to "The bitch runs faster than Walt Flanigan's
dog!". This is in reference to a comic book that Kevin Smith once wrote
staring Jay and Silent Bob as they are chased around by a dog. Walt
Flannigan's dog, to be exact. Also, when the break Willam's concentration
from the Sailboat Magic Eye picture, he mutters "Boobytrap!" all
frightened. This is the same phrased muttered by Chris Rock (Rufus) in
Dogma when he awakes on the train. I have no idea what the significance
of this phrase is, but perhaps we'll learn in time.
I told you that you should have avoided reading it.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Thu, 12 Oct 2000 22:23:00 -0700
From: aymorejunior@uol.com.br (AYMORE C TOLEDO JR)
To: mogel@hoe.nu
DEARS SIRS,
I AM A BRAZILIAN MAN, A PHYSICIAN, AND I LOVE CINEMA.
I AM BEGINNING TO LEARN ABOUT FILLMAKERS.
SO I AM INTERESTING IN THEIR SUBJECTS.
SINCERELY,
AYMOR JUNIOR
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
How to Watch Chow Lee Yun Fat Chung Movies
by Water Biscuit
there are many cheesy kung fu movies that have been made over the years,
and sometimes people watch them. let's pretend that you have some
friends who do. you force them to watch a movie you like a lot, say
_pcu_ or _ernest is important_, and they decide to force you to watch
one of their movies.
it's a loud explosive thriller from asia.
it stars chun lee fat yung hu kee ran.
prepare for fun!
the television on which you will watch the movie is old and dead. your
asian-movie-loving friends are poor college students. "bright red" is
the only color visible any time during the movie. this color does not
include "blood". so to heighten the enjoyment, perhaps you should bring
along a kaleidoscope.
you will suffer from dehydration while watching the film. your poor
college student friends with the bad TV and taste for asian films also
have no beverages. do not think you will drink water. their apartment
is very grimy, slimy, and slummy. the water comes from pipes internally
coated with a sort of rusty, sooty, foul ooze. so before you head
over to watch the movie, you will need a drink to bring along. as a side
note, be sure to pretend as if you have a communicable disease while at
your friends' apartment, otherwise they will all drink your beverage.
now you are prepared to watch. sit back, read the subtitles. in order
to understand the plot, imagine that there is one. change your concept
of the plot frequently, in order to explain each scene. by the time
the movie is over, you will have something neat to think about and you
may have fun hallucinatory dreams that night. or you'll be really
confused and ask yourself, "what's up with them asians?"
the next step to sitting through a chow lee chung how sun lee movie is
very basic and is almost human nature. it is known as "suspension of
disbelief", or "ignore the profundity of the wild gunfights." yes, it's
probably true that when someone gets shot, their leg muscles probably
don't react in a jump, causing the person to fly over a railing and fall
30 feet. and sure, reloading doesn't happen often. but if it did, the
movie would waste even more of your precious time.
for fun, you can conform to your friends by playing this neat little
game. every time a character in the movie says something in english,
repeat it! and if you wish, test out your chinese or japanese accent
while repeating! oh, and if you are with a bunch of men, be sure to
comment on every single gun and every extraordinary explosion. if there
are babies in the film, joke about the babies getting killed or thrown
like footballs.
ok, so now you're a third of the way through the film. you are asleep.
the trick now is to have brought a pillow so that your neck won't be
cramped when you wake up. be sure that your awakening happens after the
movie is over, or 15 minutes before it is over. that way, you can
either avoid the whole dumb mess, or you can catch the climax. the
climax consists of explosions and death in gargantuan proportions.
congratulations. and my condolences.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
CAST FOR #EZINES THE MOVIE
(Inside joke humor from Lachyrmite)
Mogel Kevin Bacon
AIDS Christopher Walken
Caitlin Britney Spears
Quarex Andre the Giant
Rhea Alicia Silverstone
AnonGirl Jeannine Garoffalo
Trilobyte Jim Carrey
Kreid Carrot Top
Effy Thora Birch
TanAdept Brad Pitt
Seaya Ellen Degeneres
AltRocks John Candy
Amycore Gwyneth Paltrow
Anjee Fionna Apple
Aster Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen
Basehead David Hasselhoff
Big Daddy Bill Keanu Reeves
Phairgirl Gillian Anderson
Droo Don Knotts
Hardcore Danny Devito
Jamesy Ralph Nader
Jubjub Billy Corgan
Metalchic Angelina Jolie
Nybar Eminem
Oregano John Goodman
SnuffyXI James Earl Jones
Soybean Meg Ryan
Styx Ewan McGregor
Swiss Pope Dan Akroyd
Zooey Sam Waterson
Tasha Gerard Depardieu
Uberfizzgig John Travolta
Cerkit Puff Daddy
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 11 Jul 2000 15:13:07 +0800
From: dinkee <sky@skytao.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
hong kong - wish you were here, weather is nice.
welcome to hong kong, no hong kong is not japan. and yes it is a
part of china since june 1st 1997 but no we are not communist. hong kong
is now known as the SAR (special administrative region) and will remain
under independant law for another 50 years whilst chinese law will be
enforced slowly and steadily. has anything changed? of course, ever since
the handover local chinese people have a slow growing grudge against the
goverment (mr. tung chee wah) due to the fact that the economy has dropped
and the property market has dropped rapidly.
theres an old saying that "the ways of england are the ways of the
world" as much as the local chinese would hate to admit to trusting
"gweilos" (white ghosts in direct translation into english), the english
did bring hong kong into being one of the top cities in the world. at the
present moment, hong kong has the world's largest suspension bridge (yes
even bigger than the san francisco golden gate bridge) although, this does
not stop a local chinese from being proud of this bridge. its just another
long straight road for "fay ge-is" (local chinese boys who drive toyotas,
mazdas and have the engine changed so it sounds like a harley) to speed on.
our airport here is supposedly also the biggest in the world, but rumours
have it that germany and malaysia are trying to beat that one.
now hong kong is split up in three parts, think of hong kong as
three different personalities. you have hong kong island - the fun,
sometimes arrogant but always trendy character. kowloon - the more darker
side of hong kong and new territories - the naive, slow pacing and
innocent side of hong kong. hong kong island itself is made up of a few
residential areas but in part mostly large skyscrapers bearing large neon
signs of big companies who are struggling in this evil economic depression.
kowloon is well known for its famous "walled city" back in the 1950's where
a catholic Jackie Pullinger came on a mission sent by God. she helped many
"huck sar woi" (triad) members quit their opium/heroin addiction and turn
their faith to god instead of their triad leader.
now new territories on the other hand, since it is fairly close to
the border of china, many "II" (illegal immigrants) hide here. there are
certain villages here that are named after a surname, and back in the 50's
all the people that lived in this village had the same last name. all types
of vegetables, fruits and rice were grown here, but ever since the new
airport has been built on a nearby island, the new territories has become
more and more of a residential area.
now to the interesting bits, no matter what you read about hong
kong, it may sound all glamorous, but life here really depends on how you
live it. the current population here is 7.4 million, thats alot of damn
people for hong kong seeing as it is only a tiny dot on the map. money
really does do the talking here, and if you drive, so does the make of
your car. like many other famous cities, there are red light districts
here (oddly though the red light district in kowloon looks more green due
to neon green signs) and unfortunately alot of drugs.
growing up here is quite difficult if you are a local chinese and
go to a local school. 5 out of ten children will be traid members by the
age of 13, some girls will be used by triad members as prostitutes or
"hostesses" in karaoke bars. about 2 out of ten will become drug addicts
or drug pushers, 1 out of ten will die before they reach 16 by commiting
suicide. rarely do children go on to universities overseas either because
their family would rather they start work as soon as they finish school to
support the family or the family dont agree with the western way of living.
superstition is also a way of living here, old hong kong was very
superstitious but since hong kong has turned more and more international,
only the older generation carry on the tradition in some chinese customs.
the dead are highly respected here, and most prefer to cremate their
deceased than bury them, this can be of course due to the costs of a space
in the graveyard.
but on a lighter note, the night life in hong kong again varies on
how you grew up, many westerners or chinese that are westernized go to
"lang kwai" which is on hong kong island. local chinese go to "rave
parties", but the meaning of a rave party has slowly gone off track. now
police go to them as well to keep the peace from rival triad members. and
every so often the US navy pop into hong kong and pick up a bunch of local
chinese girls who find the masculine defined tone of their bodies highly
exciting and go get drunk with them on the streets of "wan chai".
personally, i have lived here from childhood to me teenage years.
i'm considered local chinese but also considered westernized due to the
fact that i did not attend a local school here. i do however get bullied
by "fay ge-is" quite often, most of the time on the road. but to the local
chinese i also look incredibly japanese (this might have to do with the
fact that i have japanese blood) so for a few months i didnt get bullied
as hong kong started to adore the every entrepernuership skills that japan
had. so instead of being picked on i got "macked" on, though i never took
up any of the offers of "dating" a local chinese boy. dont get me wrong its
not that i dont find them attractive in anyway, but to date a local
chinese...you actually date them. meaning, for the first 4 months you go
watch movies, shopping, dinner, lunch whatever pleases you but no hand
holding, no kissing. hand holding comes in the 6th month, kissing much
later. and sex? forget about it, well forget about it for the first year
you're together at least because you definately won't get any sex from a
local chinese relationship from the first year of dating.
so if you do decide to come, please do because you're most likely a
westerner and won't see any "huck sar woi" or have any "fay ge-is" bullying
you, instead you'll get to pick your choice of 40 different varieties of
international food, drink foreign beer and shop like a mad person on
cocaine. the only expensive part of your stay is accomodation, but then
again all you have to do is smile at me and i'm sure i could find a nice
cheap place which is not "chung king manshions"...
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
TWELVE LESSONS IN BRAVERY by Trilobyte
lesson no.1 : just because someone isn't talking about something
doesn't mean it's not on their mind.
lesson no.2 : the less someone talks about something on their mind,
the more significant it must be.
lesson no.5 : attempting to pick peoples' minds for hidden or
missing information is potentially dangerous.
lesson no.6 : people who seem open about everything are anxious
about something else.
lesson no.7 : the lost cities of gold are missing for a reason.
lesson no.8 : don't ride with drivers who welcome death.
lesson no.9 : if you lend a helping hand, wear a metal gauntlet.
lesson no.10: if a loved one gives you stickers,
sentiment is a ghost seen only in mirrors. you can't touch a ghost
unless it becomes tangible, but then it's no longer a ghost. you can't
pet a dog who's running away. a parrot in panama doesn't want your
cracker. your grandmother's cookies were bought at a store. an
investment in love will negate your balance. a kid without toys is
killing someone right now. you can't swim if there's not enough water.
don't jumpstart the car if you don't know how to drive.
a sarcastic smile is a sadistic's technique. throw 'em the bait
and they eat the whole pole. you can piss in the river but they'll swim
away.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE GROCERY STORE by Rhea
Jezebelle was a girl. She had brown hair and green eyes. She liked
ice cream.
Yes, she liked ice cream, and that was why she was waiting in line
at the grocery store on this mellow Tuesday afternoon, with a carton of
vanilla cold in her hand.
The person in front of her was a woman. The woman was wearing a
brown sweater, and her hair was blonde. Jezebelle couldn't see what color
the woman's eyes were.
The woman was buying eggs, a pineapple, and a box of men's beard
and mustache dye, in dark blonde.
Jezebelle was buying ice cream.
The woman had blonde hair.
Jezebelle had brown.
The woman was taking out a handful of bills from her purse and
handing them to the man behind the register. He counted them and put them
in the register, and gave the woman back a few coins.
"Thank you, come again," said the man.
The woman moved over to put her things in a plastic grocery bag,
and Jezebelle moved over to pay for her vanilla ice cream.
The man ran a scanner over the bottom of her cold carton. The
scanner made a small beeping noise. A number appeared on the register
screen.
The man looked at the number and said to Jezebelle, "Your total
comes to $546,232.50."
Jezebelle blinked.
The woman, who was still arranging her pineapple in a plastic bag,
looked up.
"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?" asked Jezebelle.
The man yawned, looked at the screen again, and said, "Your total
comes to $546,232.50, miss."
Jezebelle blinked again. The woman watched in silence.
"Will that be cash or check?" asked the man dully.
"Uh... well... yeah," began Jezebelle slowly, pointing to the ice
cream. "I uh... thought it... was on sale?"
The man behind the register yawned again. "That was last week, miss."
"Oh." An orange candy bar wrapper caught her eye from the aisle. For
a second everything was blank.
For a second the world was just Jezebelle and the glint of light on
the shiny orange plastic wrapper.
"Cash or check?"
"Uh... well... yeah," began Jezebelle even more slowly. "I don't
have that much cash."
"Check?" yawned the man.
"Uh... well... yeah," began Jezebelle, slower still. "I don't have a
check book."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Then I'm sorry, miss, but I'm afraid you can't get this ice cream,"
said the man.
Jezebelle sighed, "Okay." She began to walk away.
"Wait!" cried the blonde woman. She reached into her purse and
pulled out a large wad of bills and handed them to Jezebelle. "Here, use
these," she said.
Jezebelle looked down at the bills. They said "Monopoly" on them.
"I can't use these!" she said to the woman.
"Why not?" asked the woman impatiently.
"Because - well - because this isn't a game!" exclaimed Jezebelle,
waving the wad of play money emphatically.
Both the woman and the man behind the counter burst into laugher
simultaneously. "Sure it is!" they chimed in unison.
"What?" asked Jezebelle. "No it isn't!"
The woman, still laughing, reached into her newly backed grocery
bag and pulled out the box of dark blonde men's beard and mustache dye.
"Just look!" she said, holding the box out to Jezebelle.
There was a picture of a smiling man with a thick dark blonde beard
and mustache. Jezebelle thought he looked rather uncannily like the
man behind the register.
Above the picture of the smiling man were the words, "This Is A
Game."
"See?" asked the woman.
"But that's just a brand name!" said Jezebelle. "It doesn't mean
anything."
Both the woman and the man behind the counter burst into laughter
simultaneously. They laughed and laughed.
Jezebelle was getting angry!
"I'm getting angry!" she said.
"She's getting angry!" said the man behind the register.
"Just use the bills!" cried the blonde-haired woman.
Jezebelle looked down at them. They were still in her hand. They
still said, "Monopoly."
"But -"
"JUST USE THEM!" yelled the woman and the man in unison.
Jezebelle slowly lifted her hand, which was shaking violently, and
gave the bills to the man behind the register. He counted them and put
them in the register, and gave her back a few coins.
"Do you want a candy bar too?" asked the woman, laughing almost
nastily. She pointed to the orange-wrapped one Jezebelle had noticed
earlier.
Jezebelle looked closer this time, past the glint of light from the
shiny wrapper. She realized there were words written on it, in a color
that almost blended in with the orange shade of the wrapper itself. They
read, "The World Is Painful And Absurd: a caramel-chocolate treat."
Jezebelle was suddenly very, very tired.
"No, just the ice cream will do," she said.
The man gave her the carton of ice cream. It was wet with cold
condensation, and some of the condensation dripped off and started running
down her hand. She felt the cold, trickling water well enough. It was
real. She felt it.
She felt it. It was real.
"This is real," she said triumphantly, turning to face the woman.
But the woman was gone. Jezebelle looked around wildly, glimpsing a
flash of brown and blonde exiting the door. "Wait!" cried Jezebelle,
running after her.
"Thank you, come again," said the man as she ran off.
Everything was so bright when Jezebelle got outside. The sunlight
was so strong she couldn't see. "Wait!" she cried again desperately,
shielding her eyes from the blinding sun with her arm. She could vaguely
make out a dark shape standing a little bit ahead of her: the woman. The
woman had two clear grocery bags in her arms; one had the pineapple in it,
and the other had the eggs and the box of dark blonde men's beard and
mustache dye.
"Yes?" asked the woman testily.
For a second Jezebelle forgot what she wanted to say. The sun was so
bright! It was all she could think about. The bright sun, and the orange
candy bar wrapper, and --
Then she remembered. She held up the carton of ice cream, still
dripping with condensation, and cried, "This is real!"
The woman rolled her eyes and laughed. "Look inside, silly!" she
said, shaking her head. She turned and walked away.
Jezebelle blinked.
Jezebelle opened the carton.
It was empty.
Absolutely empty.
A bead of cold condensation ran down her arm.
Jezebelle yelled in anger and threw the empty carton in the
direction the woman had gone. It rolled a few feet away, then rolled right
back and stopped at her feet.
Above her, the fluorescent grocery store sign blinked:
Open 24 Hours
Open 24 Hours
Open 24 Hours
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
From the lost pages of The Anarchists Cookbook or something like it comes...
WORDS, ALWAYS A HANDY WEAPON
by Voyd (c) 1986
Words without feeling carry little meaning to me. People tie words
and emotion together all the time when they should be seperate most of the
time. Most peoples minds are very impressionable also, so words have the
ability to cause emotional stress. Intelligent people have become
somewhat jaded. They see little value or wisdom in the words of most, and
are somewhat immune to a verbal assault. Not always the case, some are
touchy. When I say words I dont mean "fuck", although a simple "goddamn"
is still like dropping a piano on the average christians state of
well-being. If god is so all-powerful, why is he such a pussy about
name-calling? geez!
Anyways, story on that was I was at a party with a friend. We were
drinking heavily and started talking to a couple of girls. We found out
they were christian, and being agnostic as we were, decided to have some
fun. They hadn't escaped the years of brainwash and were gripped by the
fear of god. No basis for their beliefs whatsoever. I was browbeat for
20 minutes for saying "goddamn". It was funny watching them get all
flustered. "You have no weapon you can use against me". I said. "Your
words don't affect me, and have no meaning!" They got frustrated at that.
The whole point is words can affect people deeply, yes, but I think you
have just scratched the surface my friends. Visual images may cause the
most uproar, but words come in a close second.
CASE #1: The Audible Bomb
TOOLS NEEDED: Your mouth, a language to communicate in.
I hate idle chatter. Why do people feel they have to talk about
stupid shit when they feel the least bit uncomfortable? Places this
happens: the doctors waiting room, in line at the grocery store, in an
elevator, on a bus etc. You get the picture. If I dont know you, chances
are I dont want to talk to you unless I initiate it. The following may
sound a little juvenile, but trust me, the results can be hilarious.
Keep a straight face, never show emotion in this case. Seem distant, it
will make people think you are psycho after the audible bomb is dropped
(added damage: the realization that some people really are crazy.)
Scenario: On the bus, crowded, had to sit next to a smelly lonely
guy. His shirt identifies him as "Bill".
Bill: "So...ya headed to work?"
You: "Yeah."
Bill: "Sure is a nice day. I'd love to be outside."
Bill: "Playin' ball would beat workin' any day, huh?" <*lame chuckle*>
You: "Yeah...I'd rather fuck my DEAD GRANDMOTHER'S CORPSE than have to go
to work today." <pause> "Up the ass, no less..."
<stranger turns his head, stares out the window>
Things that make you go "hmmmm". It's all about timing. The
audible bomb causes mixed emotions in people, some get angry, some are
shocked, and some get scared. This has lead to many "you're going to hell"
conversations. Hey...at least they aren't making idle bullshit chat now,
huh?! At least there is some conviction in their words!
It's all about the total shock value of your statement in this
scenario.
Other examples (pre-assembled bombs):
- "Man...I'd kill a homeless person for a smoke about now."
- "I'd rather fuck an aborted fetus than eat at this place again!"
- "It makes me want to kill my father and piss on his dead corpse."
These are Great for tele-marketer calls and annoying store clerks
that will not leave you alone. Assembly of the bomb is simple. Pick some
words from the included material and string them together with some nouns
and adjectives. (i.e., eat, fuck, shit, mother, dog, father, fetus, piss,
mouth, anus, kill, lsd, dead, baby, god, fag, bloody, sodomize...)
Set one off and watch the face of the next stranger that dared talk
to you. Hell, if you have big horsey balls set one off at work. Just
because you work with me doesnt mean I want to talk to you either.
Bitches.
THE AUDIBLE VIRUS
People will believe almost anything. They work similar to
computers. Farmilar with the term "GIGO"? It stands for "garbage in,
garbage out". We can take advantage of this to create a sort-of virus
that will propogate itself similar to a worm. Anyone, with enough
conviction and a straight face, can be an expert on anything. Pick a
subject you know nothing about and strike up a chat. Or jump in on a
conversation you feel all parties engaged in conversation aren't really
educated about. This is your chance to inject your virus into the wild.
You will be amazed at how little the loudest persons talking actually
knows about what they are talking about. Our virus is made up of
disinformation, subtle lies, and useless made-up facts.
CASE #1: The Workplace (Petri-dish Experiment)
TOOLS NEEDED: Your mouth, a language to communicate in and at least one
human to infect.
This is a great place to spread a virus because you can actually
watch it propogate itself. Sometimes it even makes its way back to you.
Just smile and say, "Yeah, I read that somewhere."
Co-Worker: "So, what's for lunch today?"
You: "Plain noodles...I'm scared to eat a lot nowadays..."
Co-Worker: "Why?"
You: "Well, I read in California 20 people died from vegtables that
had soaked up some chemical they treat them with."
Co-Worker: "Oh man... are you kidding?!"
You: "No...and those veggies were shipped all over the U.S., there
is no way they can find and destroy all of them now."
- Conclusion: He will tell at least 4 people. Each of those 4 will tell
several - and on and on. Just *maybe* one person will
actually research it.
- Result: Many paranoid people at the dinner table. A live disinformation
word virus.
Creativity is a must when creating a word-virus. The more
hard-to-believe it sounds the more people will spread it. Make it
something hard to research factual backing also, this ensures a longer
life. Believe me though...people will believe about anything. From
useless factoids that just waste someones brain space, to full-blown
interruption of thought every 5 minutes thinking about it, to outright
fear and paranoia.
Examples (live virii). Do not run these on your own brain!#%! I
take no responsibility.
- "Hey, in South Africa they found a species of lizard that lives
over 140 years!"
- "Headaches are caused by gravitational pull from the moon."
- "Al Gore accepted money from the KKK to fund his campaign."
- "If you take a whole bottle of asprin you will trip balls!"
(this only works on druggies...may kill people)
- "They found a group of terrorists not long ago, that had
stockpiled chemical weapons in four major u.s. states."
- "It's possible to stay underwater for up to 20+ minutes through
meditation. The ancient chinese did it all the time."
- "i heard [insert name] has testicular cancer."
Now that you have this knowledge go out and cause some chaos, punx.
Remember, as long as you are able to communicate, you are always armed
with bombs and biological weapons.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
RIMJOB MY SORE ASSHOLE AHAHAHA by CUNT SHIT FUCK AHAHAH
AHAHA so, like i was eating some guys asshole straight out of the ass hole
and all this blood started pourin' out and he was havin' all this diarehea
too but i kept on eatin' it was so yummy!! god i love the consistancy of
shit when it squishes inbetween my teeth and sticks to the roof of my mouth
and holy shit it's so warm coming down OH GOD I LOVE IT!!!!!
once i raped this girl but i didn't just rape her, i used a sharp knife and
i stuck it into her mouth and turned it sharply and there was all this
blood which i wiped on her cute little stomache, she was 11 years old, and
then i stuck it into her vagina and rolled it around in an "eight" shape
until she started screaming and then i stomped on her fucking face!!! ahahah
ahahaha that was so awesome
eating dead bodies and having your penis slammed in a car door while
hundreds of ants crawl all over your bodily orifices rules.
sometimes i open up my penis hole when an ant is crawling on me and i let
it hop right in! ehehe
i hope you didn't find this file disturbing!!! eheheheh
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
HOLY SHIT GRANDMA!
This is a story about how my dad had the shits, and i was at my
grandmothers house one day, and i accidentaly saw her tits...
kuzak: Mom, what time are we going to grandma's?
mom: 4:30
kuzak: ok, ill be back then...
So, I went out to the store and got a hotdog and some gum, and the cashier
was this chick, and she was like really hot, so i thought i would open
with a smoooove line like, "Hey babe, what's your baud?"
She turned and said, "hey shweeet child, 28.8--what's it to you?" i said,
"wow! too much woman for me, and then walked out, so i got home, and it
was time to go to grandma's, so i packed up my cd player, and some cd's
and it is like 30 minutes to grandma's house, so i'm in the car and i'm
listening to my cd player, and then i smelt something,
kuzak: what the hell is that smell?
dad: i donno!
kuzak: jesus christ, dad! open the fukkin windows you fukkin pig!
dad: why? what's wrong?
kuzak: you fat bastard! what did you eat today? beans and saurkraut?!
what the fuk is wrong with you? imma suffacate from the butane
your ass is putting out!
dad: well, then i'm not gunna open no damn windows for you and your
wiseass mouth!
kuzak: you asshole!
dad: just go to sleep, it'll pass.
kuzak: yeah, right.... why don't you sniff it all up for me?
mom: god dammit! both of you shut up right now... jesus honey, what
did you eat today?
dad: beans and saurkraut...
Now, have you ever tried to sleep, and there is a horid smell
around? well it gives you nitemares! so I'm trying to sleep, listening
to a little _rage against the machine_ to ease my mind of the terrible
smell... meanwhile, we pull into my grandmothers drive way...
grandma: oh, you're here! dinner's in the oven!
kuzak: wow, what are we having gradma?
grandma: spagetti! what do you always have when you come here?!
kuzak: oh yeah, that's right...
kuzak: hey grandma, i hope the bathrooms free, daddy's got the trots!
dad: didnt i tell you to shut the hell up?
mom: <to dad> stop it right now... leave him alone! you should be
ashamed for what you did in the car!
<kuzak sticking tounge out at dad, when mom isn't looking!>
grandma: you better not stink up my house!
dad: ok, ma, calm down!
grandma: well, sit down at the table, it'll be ready in a few minutes...
kuzak: did you make some more of that great sauce, gradma?
grandma: yes, of course...
kuzak: ok, then, i'll be putting butter on mine, thanks.
grandma: come over here and help me with the pots, will ya?
kuzak: ok!
Now, as I walk over there, this brillo pad falls on the floor, so
as I was about to pick it up, my grandmother had already bent over, but I
was halfway bent over to pick it up in the first place, so all of a
sudden... WHOOPESH! i was looking down my grandmothers shirt! that had
to be one of the worst sights i'd ever seen in my life! jesus christ, i
never seen the wrinkled up, shriveld titties in my life!, i mean, it was
horrible... it was clear that i wasnt having a good day...
kuzak: oh, uhh, grandma, you should've let me get that for you...
grandma: it's ok, i need all the exercise i can get!
Meanwhile, I'm like tramatized... you have no idea what that can do
to a kid going through puberty! (btw: i was 14 when this happend!)
kuzak: ok, grandma... i'm gunna go sit down now...
grandma: ok, it'll be ready in a few minutes, deary!
mom: did you help grandma?
helped her? jesus christ, she sure didn't help me any... i could've
done without seeing that, it was just as bad as seeing a fat person in
spandex! good gawd!
dad: i have to use the bathroom... ill be right back!
Uh-oh... this cud take years and possible fire hazard if someone
lights a match. All of a sudden, you hear "plop, drip, plopasdljkasdfklsdf
klfasdlkf, drip drip". i was like, "Oh man...!"
kuzak: JESUS FUKKIN CHRIST DAD!
dad: (yelling from bathroom) what?
kuzak: you know damn well what!
kuzak: i'm going for a walk... don't expect me back until this house
stops smelling like shit-stained underwear!
mom: ok, well don't wander off too far... dinner will be ready in a
minute or five.
ok, well i come back, and you hear "FLUSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,
clog clog... blup blup blup.."
kuzak: grandma, i hope you have a plunger and a gas tank!
grandma: what would i need the gas tank for?
kuzak: walk over to the bathroom door...
i have never seen an old lady run so fast... holy shit, she
practically fainted.
kuzak: hey dad, do ya think it is all out? or is the shit gunna dribble
out your pant leg at the dinner table?
dad: shut up!
mom: yes dear, that would be rather disgusting if we had to see that
at the dinner table. after all, we are at your mother's house
and you dont want that to happen again...
Well, it is pretty much all over now. Dad's trots are gone, and I
didnt look at my grandmother for 6 years after that.. and hear we are
today!.. well until next time... cya..
OH! I almost forgot to thank Ilsundal for the "hey, babe, what's
your baud?" line. heh! he almost used it at IHOP one time on our
waitress!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
A SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM NEKO
WRITTEN IN MAY, 1995
i was about to start this rant off with a blurb about conformity and
the like but then after writing about three lines, i realized that i wasn't
saying anything new and if you hadn't taken the dangers of conformity to
heart by now, you never would. so, instead, i will take you on a personal
journey, an odyssey if you will.
let me give you a quick background on some stupid information. i am
in the gifted program at school. it shares a building with the
creative/performing arts program, so most of my friends are in one of these
two programs. over the last school year, i have really become close to
most of my friends. i have done this through something not at all unlike
the computer/modem/messaging world. we passed a little notebook around in
which we could anonymously (well, with handles, the same anonymity given to
we the computer geeks) converse with each other. the topics when from sex
to music back to sex again. the net result of this was me getting
completely different views on a lot of different people who i had known for
years. this group of people decided that we should all still meet and see
each other over the summer. so, like the computer geeks, we had a con.
the first one was apparently a success, because there were 5 or 6 more
throughout the summer, each held at an area park.
my friends are probably some of the most boring people i know. in
many cases, they really aren't often 'fun' to be around. they are always
depressed about one thing or another. many of them are always talking
about nine inch nails (something i despise and have made it known) and how
their parents are restricting them too much. all of the bullshit makes me
sick. and if they aren't doing that, they're off smoking weed or thinking
how cool it would be if they were smoking weed. many of my friends smoke
cigarretes. many of them say how they're trying to quit and then proceed
to smoke three cigarretes in the time i spend with them. how can the
people i call friends make me so upset? probably because i do not indulge
in the 'sex and drugs' atmosphere that they do. and you know what, i
think i have a better time than they do.
outside of never having smoked a cigarrete, pot, drank a beer, had
sex, something that seperates me from my friends is that i know how to say
'no'. now i know you thought this was complete bullshit when you were in
the second grade and your teachers told you to say no to drugs, but i am
serious. the most important word in the english language is no. when
someone offers you pot, you don't have to say 'yEaH d00D! h0oK mE uP'.
the choice is always open to say no. if it's your friend who is doing the
offering, you shouldn't be ashamed to say no, they should accept you.
why am i saying this? i am saying this because i don't exactly
enjoy the company of my friends anymore. not only can we not agree on the
music to listen to, but too many of them have stopped thinking about what
they're doing. too many of them want to smoke weed just because other
people are doing it. too many of them are turning into the conformists
they claim to dislike so much.
and now the cheesy finale.
look: you are you. it doesn't matter what you do in life, because
you are still you. the only person whose opinion on the way you are truly
matters is your own. if you want to smoke weed, or do something else that
i have called stupid, be my guest. i cannot stop you. but please, think
about what you're doing and make sure that it is what you want to be doing.
make sure that whatever you do is what you want yourself to do and not what
someone else wants you to do. make sure you're doing it because you want
to and not because someone else wants you to.
please. i have seen too many people's lives get fucked up. and to
think, it's all because they were afraid to say no.
THE ABOVE WAS WRITTEN AROUND THE SAME TIME AS THE TEXT FILE CLASSIC,
"WHY DRUGS ARE QUEER" by ART OLIVER
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
WHAT I SAID TO ABE THE COP by Alek
smile! you have coffee! your gun is so large and SHINY and I can
see my reflection in your awesome mirror shades. you have a blue suit on
and a MOUSTACHE. I really like your clean, SHINEY cruiser. and your
MOUSTACHE. your badge number is 213 and your badge is very SHINEY, you
must shine it a lot. everyone makes fun of you because you don't like
donuts. you dont like getting the crumbs in your MOUSTACHE. but, you
like coffee. I fear your nightstick because it is so black, huge, and
SHINEY. please don't handcuff me to the railing and beat me with your
nightstick of forgiveness! did I mention that I like your MOUSTACHE?
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Post: 16 of 16 Date: Wed, 28 Jul 93 18:59:46 EDT
From: motley (Motley/G*P)
Organization: The KungFu Theatre BBS - 401.351.5345
Subject: DRUGS!
Alcohol is safer, if you take it in small amounts... I don't like to
Drink real Booze I prefer Beer, every Friday... Not other days...
Friday's the PARTY Day...
Hasch is also as dangerous as alcohol...
I wouldn't touch LSD,COCAINE,HEROIN,CRACK,EXTACY,AMFETAMIN etc etc etc
the list is long...
LSD is the worst, you can get really nasty FLASHBACKs.... Some fall into
coma other don'T...
EXTACY, nasty, use extacy, be on a rave, with full clothing including
some kind of body clothing and mask or a hat... Too much Body heat, the
usual cause of Extacy Death...
Of coz if all the Drugs around would be 100% pure, then the problems would
be less (maybe)... but they are so filled with garbage... Filthy Drugs!
Last Friday I wanted to get some LSD, I was really Drunk... L8r on I
changed my mind... gehehe... Never tried a DRUG... If I'm gonna try,
it'll be Haschis, it's not so Dangerous, just to try, but years and years
of use will crack you...
I like to drunk... Liked to get Highg, Dream: Being High on some unharmful
Drug in CYBERSPACE!! WOW! would kick ass...
Actually Techno Music itself is a stimulating Drug... Nice...
L8r...
PS. W8ing for reactions...
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Melissa Gruppuso
ENG 020-04
03/06/00
Writing Assignment 2
How to Break A Bad Drug Habit
If you are an addict of any drug you must take steps to change your
life. First, you must be able to admit that you have a problem. This is
the hardest step for most users because they are usually in denial about
their drug habit. Once you've realized that you do need help the first
thing you want to do is sign yourself into a drug rehabilitation center.
There you can get counseling and the full individual attention and
encouragement that you'll need to recover. Next, you might want to join a
support group such as Narcotics Anonymous. They can help you learn how to
manage and enjoy your own life, teach you the twelve steps, and always be
there if you ever need them. Also it is always healthy to have friends
and family members who will be there to support you and motivate you on
your way to serenity. Another good idea is to keep yourself occupied.
You should look into schools, get a full time job or pick up a hobby such
as, painting, sports, horseback riding or whatever you like doing. During
all this there are certain things you need to avoid like the people you
hung out with when you have used, the places you used to go when you would
use, or anything you associate with using drugs. Following these three
simple suggestions will make it easier for you not to relapse. Finally
the best thing for you to do is to keep at it one day at a time. For
instance, don't think about a month from now or two weeks ago, just keep
your thoughts in today and what is going on right now. Just remember that
you have already hurt yourself enough. Is there any good reason to hurt
yourself anymore?
EXCUSE ME, BUT LUMPY'S GOT SOMETHING TO SAY.
-====\_/ BONG LITERATURE DEPT. \_/====-
....PRESENTS...
-----------------------------------------
"The Trip Club"
By: Z<><5A><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
Written 03/94
-----------------------------------------
Josh was a regulare teenager... He was into the regular things like
cars, drugs, and women. Josh was about 5 feet, 9 inches tall, and he had
his own clique. They would hang out, and talk. Every once in a while, a
friend would be stonned when they met at the Caffeteria, which was usually
where they all saw each other. It would be real fun... they would always
play some sorta trick on the member who was messed up. For instance, once,
Mark, one of Josh's best buds came in totally out of it. He looked and
smelled it. It was finally the time everyone had been waiting for... the
ultimate trick. Mark fell fast asleep on the dirty caffeteria, with
dribble coming out of his mouth. He must have really been hitting on the
pills for that sort of effect.
The group, that numbered 4, pulled Mark into the theater in their
school. They had been planning this for some time, do they had some props
hidden backstage. They one by one went back and retrieved the uniforms,
swords, dry ice, and other essentials for the trick. They had a coffin in
the middle of the stage. It had no lid, and they placed Marks semi-Cold
body into it. They turned off all of the lights except the stage ones,
and put out the buckets of dry-ice. The stole the speakers platform and
quickly go to work spray painting it black. The stage was set. All that
needed to be done, was for Mark to wake up.
They waited over an hour for Mark's body to re-awaken.. when they
began to get scared. "What if he is dead?", they group thought
collectively. Well, they waited and waited, and finally, Mark began to
wake up.
---------------------------------
The Scene [From Mark's View]:
Mark in the center of a lightened
misty, cloudy area, surrounded by
dark nothingness, with a man sta-
nding at a desk, reading from a
book.
---------------------------------
Mark looked up, and figeted. Then he suddenly got really red and
started to move. He raised himself slowly and looked around. He snapped
his neck back to free his joints, and then started to realize that he was
dead. He went over to the man and said, "So, am I dead?". The man
replied slowly but sternly, "Yes". Mark quickly replied with, "So which
is is boss, up or down?". The man replied, "What do you think?". Mark
then looked pale... and muttered, "Shit!". Marks life then shot across his
mind like O.J.Simpson on drugs... He saw every moment of his life, from
his first shoot up when he was 1, to his fist sample of crack, and acid...
[Hi smiles], the cocaine [He grinns.. bad trip], and then finally, the
pills that he had taken not long ago.
Mark thought fast, knowing that hell was'nt the place for him. He
pointed to the man's rear and said "Look, its O.J.Simpson's ex!", and the
guardian turned. He flashed up the stairs to heaven to live an eternal
pure life.
Back at the school, the Trip club was still waiting for Mark to
wake up.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
COCAINE by pl0nk
KEEP OFF
THE GRASS
KEEP OFF THE GRASS
KEEP OFF THE
GRASS
MYsTERY FILE-0=\//\/
issue # ??????
" the name was never included "
*hint* CHECK THE BACK OF THE BOX
-----
in a shoe box somewhere out there
cold and windy the terrian but yet in that shoe box
there lived a rebel named fast eddie.
and this is his tale.
parents galore, hide your children from the reaper that is fast eddie.
he spends his days in a shoe box, moving rapidly day to day
he will never die, just infect those around him until they slowly pass
because of him, your now a fiend and fiends alike, keep them in denile
your skiiing constantly down those sloapes, clocked 420 miles an hour
your family looks down at you, nothings ever thought... they just turn
away and cower
your nothing but a player
and players fuck alot
homey don't play that game
but when the rules are set
there can be nothing broken
cast the iron
cast the iron
in closing we will now take a few words from friends and family who wish
to bid to fast eddie as he makes his journey into the kingdom of heaven
where he will live forever in peace and harmony. AMEN.
FATHER: Hey DAD!, its my birthday and drunk and im in JAIL put mom on the
phone
MOTHER: MOM, im in JAIL.. put dad back on the phone
FATHER: Hey Pop! Im in JAIL
SON GETTING YOU DOWN?
TRY REACHIN' FOR THAT _KIT-KAT_ BAR...
FOR WHEN YOU NEED A BREAK FROM THE EVERY DAY!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
ARE YOU JUST ACCEPTING TEXT? by iNSaNE GiRL
The task: write a short story whereby all characters are no more
than their material realities.
The response is: FUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK.
haha... material realities folks...
how the fucking donkey-mother-fucker-fucking hell do you write
anything other than goddamn MATERIAL REALITIES?! you tell me that and
i'll give you a quarter in American dollars, coz we don't have those where
i live fuck oath.
We ARE nothing but material realities.
to our little heads we can pretend to be three-dimensional and
fantastic, but pretense is pretense, and why don't you all just lay down
and fucking do stuff about it?
Don't be so fucking crass and crude and bluddy plain rude, you
asshole... how did I end up like this is what I'd like to know?
One minute I'm flying, goddammit, and the world is a haze all
around me--I don't give a shit--i just don't care, coz you can't stop me
from dancing, you can't pull my wings off--even if you keep tugging at my
legs like a whining child. Fuck life, just screw it all, coz i'm on some
kind of natural high and my head is like way up there where all the smoke
and fumes from all the shit you say is just spinning round contaminating
my brain with nervous energy i'd normally sublimate to happy vibes.
all you wanna do is watch me free fall into nothingness, coz
happiness is just a word that people without problems like to use to
pretend they don't have problems.
It's perverted.
Even if you can forget, it all kicks you in the head early next
morning.
Do you want to fly with meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee to a land where
love is freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... man i could make love to music
all night long, coz in love you lose yourself and it's no big deal when
you never had a self in the fucking first place.
i got a head full of nothing and a pocket full of glass, so don't
you go trying to tell me that you understand anything about me--i am way
too simple... i cannot be understood! like the genes in my dna, i am
unicelled and ignorant. I am nothing but a reflection of a reflection of a
material fucking reality.
Let's all just forget about ever wanting to be anything. Because,
my friend, in a world where everything is outside, you ain't nothing....
you ain't nothing But.
I hope that watever you people think you're gonna do with my
heart... you know that it ain't even beating no more... coz i dropped it
over a bridge on my way here and it kinda broke on impact... hollow things
don't hold up so strong when you throw them hard over long distances... i
proved it through careful testing. The results bored me.
You can't stop the tears that ain't falling... fuck eh.
Profounddddddddddddddddd.... i woke up one day and everything was clear
and thats what happened man, can you fucking believe it or what??????????
My mummy and daddy decided when I was born they'd teach me manners
and they cut out my vocal cords cause a smile is more polite than a
screaming child. i pretended to go along with the mutilation right up
until one day i found the severed cord, reconnected and turned the volume
THE FUCK UP...
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
TOP TEN KEYWORD STRINGS THAT BROUGHT GOOGLE.COM PEOPLE TO HOE IN 2000:
#10 - "click on the hoe"
#9 - "jon katz child molest"
#8 - "interacial forced sex fantasy"
#7 - "kill fuck wack homie grass weed"
#6 - "butt naked arab hoes"
#5 - "how to make a bomb"
#4 - "jessica rabbit fucking"
#3 - "penis girth"
#2 - "cures for aids"
#1 - "thora birch naked"
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
TURNERS FILES by Trilobyte
[to the tune of "national anthem," baseball games]
(not the canadian one)
(and heard underneath a whole lot of noise of people eating hot dogs
and yelling at their children and at the players and at the vendors to "get
more beer! get me more beer! more beer here!" and the like, and since i
can't really hear the tune right n ow, it's like, i can't sing a long, so i
just have to ask:
"is it the denim or the mornings that contitute your thread of
thought?"
then that "tightness of the sweater", that old "jersey-rudie" type
of nut,
(diggers of this fake table take fake fable note, sell only to bidders
of the highest, most smiley and bold),
yells,
"i see t-shirts, all clad whitely, standing in a row, hair parted,
pants _undaunted_, waivering hith'r and fro!". and that really
gets your attention,
so i can't ask about the denim, dear heart-o-mine.
and then one of the baseball players replies, "to the tailor go the
players when they hat has broke, order quickly at the Bixley's (where the
playerrs go.) the 'owner's daughters' all have "problems" with her buttons,
hear, they come right open for the basemen soon as they come near."
well i guess it's true, cos i've seen brochures for that region and
other,
** author casually sleeps in chair **
** author casually sleeps in chair **
** author casually sleeps in chair **
** author casually sleeps in chair **
** author casually sleeps in chair **
...
buy-
it-
you're-
into-
it
stores 'n
sells 'em
...at the school fun fair.
(the kids say they're "ballin'" when they're "brawlin'" at the
playground there, the lisps just still persist even with therepy. ("oooh-
bah-yeh," one said to me one time. i didn't quite understand him. and
still don't, to this day.)
(no middle-eastern or balswabish would e'er be heard round here,
no south pacific, nothin' "gimmick", nothin' "trendy" here, but --),.
"AT THE MOMENT
PORK-TOMATOES
ARE NOT
TO BE THROWN
AT THE TEACHER.
(dot, dot, dot, )
OHHHH-BBBWBWBB_KAY.
now, please, persist with your torturous ways.
thank you,"
principal mercury says, no grin on his chin, no
"penny for your thoughts," nothing. he was kind of shrinking actually, his
hands clutching invisible objects in front of him as he cowered back to his
chair.
viewing that her husband was "perturbed", dotty mercury stood up
from her cake-walk chair, put her hands on her hips, and, looking around,
her fat red lips _pulsated_ as she substituted speaking (honking, more like
it) for loud, loud, LOUD gum chewing.
[finger-pointing begins.]
"who is the bastard who sinned??" she asks, to no one in particular,
while waving her finger at the tomato on her husband's head.
[gum-chewing begins.]
a nondescript kid in the audience, who only seems to be absorbing
the most darkness, raises his right sleeve and says,
"me."
[gum-chewing ends.]
[finger points at mangled boy.]
"well what did you expect from the whole ordeal, little one? any
thing less than to have lost your right arm in such a FREAKISH ATTEMPT AT
RIDICULOUSNESS???!?," mrs. mercury continued, her eyes almost completely
out of their sockets, staring at little tommy's severed arm.
[gum-chewing begins.]
tommy just smiled an evil little grin, eyes and all, shook his
shoulder, and replied,
"tasted them termayters, ma'am, and they was ain't no good, i
can't blame that little statesman or the stage or crew," he waves his arm
billowingly.
[gum chewing continues.]
"they pilot shipping's been all flippant since the dailey screw,
the missing tailor and a jailor who look-a lots like you... bingo, dorothy
friends come some willing by, when they's old shrews, they spark toward
long walk," he asks suspiciously,
WOW, mrs. mercury looked bewildered --
"that's to say the least," she interrupts me,
"but to say the most, i look very, very exhuberant, too," she
**CONTINUED**, " -- chek tem legs, foo. wwwrrraa-hhww. i'm purrin'. --"
i smile,
just give up, mrs. whoozits, i'm giving up too, this news is so old
as the days be new, it doesn't take a cynic to believe in a clinic, but it
(ha-ha) seems pathetic (ha-ha) to (ha-ha-ha),
and silence begins to invade,
"can you believe? eau clair? (ha-ha)"
she
"it's like a funnier version of Cher! (ha-ha)",
i faint
[she and i are in love. don't tell her husband now, since he must
have figured it out as his wife,
my love,
began to just
bobble,
left-
and-right
on her axis and titter little
"sweet-hearts," like the
(*tweet-tweet*)
of the humming-bird she is, (*twee-ta-
tweet* =) ) ], and, riding the waves,
i am just going to try to finish the story:
"tweet-tweet!
i'm a birdie on my feet,
tweet_tweet, i say
tweet--ta-tweet, my life
is such a treat, hip-hop!
sha-bop,
sha-boodahboo bang,
i'm bounding on my feet,
tweet-tweet, sha beedle-boo-bang,
i'm a birdie with a fang"
[A big sharp tooth pops out of her nose.]
"and i've got a big gang."
[Her friends jump from their nests to be by her side.]
she'ss singing on the stage-us, but the gene is not
contagious, er,
so,
anyway,
without a
contagious gene of,
bird-dom,
and singing,
and tweeting,
i stood my ground
like a sailor and saluted all of woman-kind:
"boo-yeah,
uhh-huhh,
say boo-yeah,
uh-huh,
say uh-huh uh
-huh-uh uh,
say uh-huh,
huh-huh huhuhu uh
uhuhuh..."
into an obscurity of odd body movements and strange tremors.
head to feet.
can you feel-it, yeah, uh?
uh-huh uh-huh oh yeah?
feel it, yeah,
uh-boo-yeah, um-do-yeah, woo-woo-uhh, uhhhjj
*** AUTHOR, FRIGHTENED, WAKES UP ***
*** AUTHOR, FRIGHTENED, WAKES UP ***
*** AUTHOR, FRIGHTENED, WAKES UP ***
...
OK, that's enough of that, I forgot, I haven't got the gene either,
for i am not related to mrs. mercury _or_ little tommy, i am but a simply
INNOCENT BYSTANDER
at this fun fair, i just saw the sign
on my way to my house,
i was driving
home from church
and i just saw
the sign,
and decided to go.
*
*
*
*
[Because they had ice cream, and any little place that says has ice
cream i go to, so this isn't just the only fun fair i'd ever been to,
right, so... what are you looking at? i'm still dancing? fuck it, i'll
stop it...]
"what the fuck you looking at," little tommy asked me.
[i'm still dancing.]
"i'm looking at you, and i'm dancing," i told the boy with the
severed arm.
[uh oh, he just tapped me on the arm. he says:]
"this is when things get ugly."
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Mon, 03 Jul 2000 08:21:13 GMT
From: "unre lated" <unrelatedhoe@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: yesyesnomaybenoyesyes part 1
I HATE YOU
I HATE WRITING
I HATE ME
I HATE MEN
I HATE WOMEN
I HATE DONKEY'S
I HATE BANANA'S
I HATE FOOD
I HATE BEING HUNGRY
I HATE SMOKING
I HATE DRINKING
I HATE THEM
I HATE THIS FILE
I HATE LIFE
I HATE DEATH
I HATE BOOKS
I HATE T.V.
I HATE GOATS
I HATE GOD
I HATE BUHDA
I HATE SATAN
I HATE CHURCH
I HATE HATE
I HATE LOVE
I HATE SARCASM
I HATE FRUIT
I HATE VEGETABLES
I KATE CATS
I HATE DOGS
I HATE COLOR
I HATE VISION
I HATE LIBRARIES
I HATE TIME
I HATE THIS GUY STARING AT ME AND LOOKING AT HIS WATCH
I HATE CREDIT CARDS
I HATE MONEY
I HATE BEING BROKE
I HATE THIS DAMN COMPUTER
I HATE NICE PEOPLE
I HATE POLICE
I HATE DICKHEADS
I HATE THE F.B.I.
I HATE THE WHITE HOUSE
I HATE THE GOVNERMENT
I HATE NOT KNOWING WHERE I AM
I HATE BEING HERE
I HATE OPLIN #2
I HATE CROMACLEAR
I HATE LOST SAUSAGES
I HATE RINGS
I HATE TATTOOS
I HATE PIERCINGS
I HATE ELEPHANTS
I LOVE FIGHT CLUB
I HATE JEWS
I HATE REABSORPTION
I HATE NAZIS
I HATE WHITE PEOPLE
I HATE BLACK PEOPLE
I HATE PEOPLE
I HATE CHILDREN
I HATE NOSTRILS
I HATE AMPHIBIOUS CREATURES
I HATE POOP SHUTES
I HATE BUD LIGHT
I HATE BEER
I HATE NOTHING
I HATE EVERYTHING
I HATE COPULOUS INTERUPT
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
GOOD SUBSTITUTE FOR ROADKILL is Effy OOPS I MEAN by Effy HEHEHE
It was the Amish that pissed me off the most. Or perhaps it was the
farmers with their tractors and their large hauls of hay or shit. They
stunk up the highways as well. Old people were positively infuriating,
because they didn't even notice you tailing them because they couldn't see,
or they couldn't hear you honking and cursing because they were deaf. Old
people can get away with murder, and not even realize it. They're
oblivious of their own evil as well as other people.
(You know, I don't really know why I'm so impatient while operating
motor vehicles. I get incurbable road rage at times. I despise people who
have the audacity to be such a pain in the ass. I want to get where I'm
fucking going SOMETIME THIS YEAR, BASTARD. And if I have to MAKE YOU A
ROADSIDE PANCAKE to do that, SO FUCKING BE IT.)
That was my first "urge" upon getting mad. Actually, it was the
exact second that I became mad, or perhaps it *was* what made me mad. Not
only was I angered, but I was mad, you see I was crazy mad, not just
angered, but crazy, insane, loony, MAD, get it? So, doing what mad people
often like to do, I began to think about killing people. Of taking the
life of a helpless, poor, screaming, bloody, mangled human body of
disgusting flesh. Killing. Murder. Homicide. I decided that it was not
going to be any of the latter three. Genocide was the best word for my
developing plan. Roadside Genocide. It would be a rebellious, nation-wide
killing tour. Would they assume there were three rebellion parties; one
that killed the Amish, one that killed the farmers, and one that killed
senior citizens? Or would they figure it was one solid movement, or at
least 3 movements linked together by one larger, more solid movement?
Regardless, there would be a movement, and a large one at that. I rented
a huge blue bus and put ad signs on it for Roadside Genocide. The reason
I needed a bus was for body collecting purposes. I had full intentions of
taking the mutilated bodies I had slain and burn them in a sacrifice to my
inspiration, Satan.
"Oh dear lord Satan," I would sing aloud as I pranced around my
first victim, an old old lady. She was so old, her skin looked like gray
paper. I wonder if she would burn up if I put a match to her. She went
up in flames like a tikki torch. I decided to leave this one for the press
and skirted off after dumping a few gallons of gasoline on the crispy old
bag.
The next day, the story was in the newspaper, you know. 'Horrible
Roadside Homicide' and 'Homicide of Local Nun Leaves Police Searching'...
needless to say, I was pissed. It wasn't just murder. It was genocide.
They weren't getting it, the dumb fucks. Don't you see? I tore up the
articles in a drunken stupor and carved in my arm with a drug needle.
Needless to say, a day later I was pulled over by the police. I
guess some locals had seen the bus I was driving around with the word
"GENOCIDE" in huge red letters on the side of the bus. They were concerned
for their children's safety. Rubbish, I said. As long as they weren't
old, or farmers, or Amish, and were on the highway, I wouldn't touch them.
So thus, I got my message across, while trying not to scare everyone. But
they were scared anyway, because everyone was an old Amish farmer, and
after a couple more killings of those 60 year old pig bastards that pulled
me over, I was arrested by a couple of hot shot criminal investigators and
interrogated.
"Why do you kill people?" they would ask me.
"Satan gives me the strength," I would respond politely. My bodily
carvings gave enough evidence of that.
Now I'm old, still in a hospital, but glad that I can't drive and
am not forced to be a hypocrite.
I guess that I never really thought about *WHY* it was good to be
strong enough to kill people, but when you have a talent for something like
that, it seems pretty remarkable. And it feels good to do something that
almost nobody else has the balls to do. So fuck you. Go back to smacking
skunks and plowing possums, you lame ass pansy pushing mother fucker.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE BIG BAD by Haradrim
Which is a more terrifying and empowering option?
1. We die and are ended. This would mean that our conscience
ceases to exist, our "soul" if such a thing exists, dissipates,
and our body rots. The being that we are is no more for all time.
This is rather frightening, because it means we are finite, and
the only time we have to be alive in any way or form is our time
on Earth, which can be ended at any moment, and is often
confusing and unhappy. The upside to this is that we don't have
to worry much, since we are essentially dead people walking.
We can look forward if you will, to a peaceful sleep for all
eternity. It all depends on whether one can stomach the idea of
disappearing forever sometime in the next 100 years or so.
2. There is an afterlife, in some form. This means that death is
merely a change of scenery, as we are either transported to
whatever halls the dead walk, or we appear into the world again,
via reincarnation. The former option, suggests that after death
we will wake up more or less, and be self-aware. Most likely, we
will have memories of our life, and realize more or less what has
happened. This would just be like living on Earth again, in my
opinion, even if all the secrets of the universe were revealed to
us and we were charged with a complete ecstasy for eternity,
what would be the point? Even ecstasy gets old after a few
millenia, and even if we could travel to any corner of the
universe at any point in time, we still wouldn't achieve piece
in my mind, at best, we could have a sort of forgetful and happy
go lucky insanity that would never fully allow us to realize our
predicament. The other option, reincarnation, seems slightly
better, since we would be reborn over and over again, with very
slight if any memories of our past lives, and could live and die
in semi ignorance. That would be a bit more exciting, I reckon.
The thing about these two options is that we are living in some
form, and that death justs shifts us, if we can manage it at all, sort of
like Groundhog Day.
After deliberating for the last several days, or more cloudily,
several years, I've decided that option 1 must be the answer because 2
makes no sense. We have to end. If I come back after death, that means I
never die. In some form, I will always exist - There isn't a reason to
not go throw myself out the nearest window, smiling merrily to the ground.
The fact that we actually die and never return in any way, elicits a
certain calm in me. I'm dead, essentially, and my destiny is inescapably
this: I will live my life, in whatever manner I choose, and then I will
perish, and never again know any emotion, thought, or sensation. Either
that, or I live forever im some manner. Therefore, I do not fear death.
I fear nothing. There is no reason not to do whatever I feel like, save
physical or emotional discomfort. The fact that I share the streets in
front of my home with people who are thrice my age and never wrote this
exact same paper, reveals that for the most part, I should rely on my own
observations mostly, all in all, its rather invigorating.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Fri, 28 Jul 2000 07:53:37 EDT
From: Jym Sylvia <jym@ns.anti-network.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: About Satan
Even the Devil needs a little revitalizing recreation now and then.
Anton LaVey here applies his kaleidoscopic vision to conjure forth occult
musical treasures, sending them into the ethers, to haunt and delight us.
With his background in classical, burlesque, circus, and roadhouse styles
of playing, LaVey uses modern synthesizer technology for illegal purposes
--to evoke feelings. Every number LaVey plays - from Sousa march to
child's lullaby - is carefully chosen as a potent brew of major and minor
chords, lyricism and prosody, then supercharged to its most lusty
interpretation. All of the instruments on this recording are played by
LaVey on his keyboards, performed without the benefit of computer
sequencing. SATAN HAS LITTLE USE FOR DIGITALIZED DOWNLOADS OR PIXILATED
PROCESSING. The murky, deathless halls of Tartarus resound with songs of
suicide, strained gaiety, and unreserved romance. Dim the lights, settle
back, and let His Infernal Majesty take you on a holiday tour of His
world...
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Tue, 12 Sep 2000 16:57:30 GMT
From: Unrelated <phreaksaddress@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: sad sad me
The final stage of the evaporation of a black hole would proceed
so rapidly that it would end in a tremendous explosion (sort of like my
sex life). How powerful this explosion would be would depend on how many
different species of elementary partcicles there are (about 6 people).
If as is now widely believed, all particles are made up of perhaps six
different varieties, the final explosion would have an energy equivalent
to about ten million one-megaton hydrogen bombs (I think I broke myself,
things just don't work like they used to). As a black hole got smaller
and hotter, it would emit a larger and larger number of different species
of particles and produce an explosion perhaps 100,00 times more pwerful
than the previous explanation (god damn scientists make up your minds heh
heh black hole). I was always very interested in how things operated and
used to take them apart to see how they worked, but I was not so good at
putting them back together again (should have been a doctor).
Suppose h(x)=f(x)g(x), lim h(x) = 1/pi, and lim f(x)=3.
evaluate g(x) d/du cos u = -sin u ---> d cos u = -sin u du
Dionysius was not the kind of man to let himself be cowed by some
pholosophic nob who was trying to cadge a job at his court. "You speak like
a geriatric fool," exclaimed Dionysius in disgust. "And you speak like a
tyrant," replied Plato. Plato's Academy was to flourish in Athens until
it was finally closed by the Emperor Justinian in 529 A.D., in his attempt
to suppress pagan Hellenistic culture in favor of Christianity (god damn
Christians are always fucking things up). Historians mark this date as the
end of Greco-Roman culture and the start of the Dark Ages (stupid
Christians, blood thirsty child raping tyrants, all of 'em! Let's crucify
them all!). The frenzied and orgiastic behavior asscociated with the
worshipers of Dionysius; the dark asspects of character and ritual that
persisted into Greek tradgedy; the terrors and superstitions of everyday
life-these are the shadowy side of the ealry classical era (Hail Eres)
(All Hail Discordia) (Hail Dionysius) (All have large dunken fests where
everybody gets naked and has wild untamed out of control sex!).
Uniform Crime Reports:1998
Murder: 12,335
Rape: 21,922
Arson: 12,144
Prostitution: 68,536
Drug Abuses: 1,108,788
Drunkeness: 510,318
Vagrancy: 270
Runaways: 117,089
Biased Motivated Offenses:
Ehtnicity: 10%
Sexual Orientation: 15.6%
Religion: 16%
Race: 58%
Disability: .3%
Multiple Bias: .2%
Number of Incidents:
Religion:
Anti-Jewish ->1,081
Anti-Catholic ->61
Anti-Protestant ->59
Anti Atheism/Agnosticism/etc. ->2
that's all for now.
fucking with my sex life meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow
woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof
woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof
woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof
woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof
woof woof woof woof woof woof woof woof animals having sex Send Save Draft
Cancel Save Outgoing Message Tired of paying for it.....then join the
21,922 Americans previously mentioned above. Word of Mouse Check out phones
at circultaion desk.
______ was _____ home from work one afternoon when ________ _________
________ and then began to ________ until _______.
Heaven = I am. Hell = I will be. The Bible, in it's most simple form.
Old Testament = Be good to God
New Testament = Be good to Mankind
milt = fish sperm
I once was lost but now have a road map and a gps and a cell phone, and a
pager, and loose baggy jeans, and a tube top. The end, fin, adios, bye bye.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE SOCRATIC METHOD GAME by Linear
A New stupid trend that I'm somewhat responsible for has been
hitting the streets! That old dead philosopher guy Socrates used to
answer questions he had been asked with another question. Or he would
ask a question and then answer it himself. This is the basis for what is
known as Socratic Method.
The Socratic Method Game started innocently enough one day when I
asked my friend,
"Socratic Method is cool, don't you think?"
To which he replied: "Why would I think that?"
Aha! See, he used Socratic Method to answer my question on his
opinion of Socratic Method. Now, it could have been left at that, but I
answered with yet another question, throwing us further into a web of
Socratic Method. We continued on in this manner until one of us could no
longer answer with a question, thereby losing. This happens when one
person is too bored or stupid or both.
After testing this out and having it get out of control, rules
were made. These must be followed at all times.
- The first question of the game must have something to do
with Socratic method in order to let your opponent know
you are challenging his improvisational skills with a
healthy game of SMG. If the opponent does not wish to
accept your challenge, he must state so immediately,
otherwise he must answer you with a question of his own
to accept your challenge. If the opponent does not
clearly state he is not interested in playing, or does
not answer you with a question, he loses.
Examples:
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: You mean that stupid game?
GAME BEGINS.
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: I don't want to play that stupid game.
NO GAME.
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: That game's dumb.
JOE LOSES.
- The first person who fails to reply to their opponent's
question with a question of his own loses. This reply
can only be one sentence, and must make sense, fitting
in with the conversation that is going on.
Examples:
- YOU: Do you want to play Socratic Method?
JOE: Okay!
JOE LOSES.
- YOU: Do you want to play Socratic Method?
JOE: Of course I want to. Why wouldn't I?
JOE LOSES.
- YOU: Do you want to play Socratic Method?
JOE: Do you like hotdogs?
JOE LOSES.
- YOU: Do you want to play Socratic Method?
JOE: Why not?
GAME CONTINUES.
- You can not just repeat your previous question, or the
question that your opponent just asked you. That would
avoiding the whole point of the game; being creative and
challenging you to think quickly. It's like saying "I'm
not creative enough to answer the clever question you
just asked me, so I'll throw it back at you, and force
you to be DOUBLY clever! Wahaha, I'm sooo good!"
Examples:
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: Do YOU like Socratic Method?
JOE LOSES.
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: Why wouldn't I?
YOU: Do you want to play?
JOE: Why wouldn't I?
JOE LOSES.
- Your reply should be as quick as possible! If one waits
forever to reply, then the point of the game is once
again lost. Quick improvisational skills are a neccesity
here, and the point of this game is to challenge these
skills. If the reply is not on the spot, then it greatly
reduces the challenging factor of the game. So, quick
responses!
Example:
- YOU: Do you like Socratic Method?
JOE: Uh.....uh......uh.....Why wouldn't I??
JOE LOSES.
Well, that's that. Now you know the basics. With some practice,
you'll impress all your friends! But just remember, although this game is
quite entertaining to play, it's annoying as hell to have to listen to
or watch others play it. BYE!@#$%
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
HOW TO PUNCH AN ANNOYING PERSON IN THE FACE by Lachyrmite
If you are anything like me, chances are, at some point in your
life, you've been heavily annoyed by someone and have had the urge to punch
them in the face. However, you may have been held back by a number of
factors. Perhaps you were afraid to due to social programming, that
punching someone else in the face is generally a bad idea. Perhaps you
feared possible reprimand from law enforcement agents. Or, perhaps you
just aren't really sure how to deliver an effective punch which will make
sure your opponent does not have the physical capability to counter attack
you.
If that last reason is what has been holding you back from punching
every idiot you see, fear not! I will now instruct you, a novice in the
ways of hand to hand combat, how to effectively punch an annoying person
in the face, in such a way that you won't have to worry about them ever
again... until they come after you with four friends and baseball bats.
The first step in hitting someone with impact is to make sure they
don't know it's coming. Don't drop into some silly martial arts looking
stance or anything, don't even put up your fists. Just stand like you
normally do, and don't give away any hints that you will be knocking
several teeth out in a few moments. Try to remain calm looking, and
somewhat disinterested.
Next, you need to be able to make a good fist. The most important
thing to remember, for those of you who don't know anything at all about
fighting, is to never punch with your thumb on the inside of your fist,
with fingers wrapped around it. This admittedly will make your punch
stronger... however, it will also most likely break your thumb. One of
the greatest things about being human is the wonderous merit of our
opposable digits. I suggest you don't ruin yours to break some guy's nose.
That being said, the standard fist is made by curling your fingers
inward to your palm, and placing the thumb resting on the middle finger
segment, rather than resting against the curl of the pointer finger. While
punching with a standard fist, it is extremely important to remember to
keep your wrist completely straight, locked out, so that your knuckles and
the back of your hand line up evenly with the back of your forearm.
There are alternatives to the basic fist, for those of you who are
already comfortable with this. You can try the variant where you only bend
the outmost two finger joints, and the joint connecting fingers to actual
hand, the knuckle, is kept straight. In this case, you would strike with
the middle segments of your fingers. You must keep your hand perfectly
straight, having the back of your knuckles and your finger up to the middle
joint in perfect alignment with the back of your hand and forearm. This
method has more potential damage, but I suggest you punch a few inanimate
objects before you try hitting any people with it... the potential for
injuring yourself with this fist is rather high. There are other
alternatives, such as striking with the palm, or the finger tips, or
various other parts, but for pure nose-breaking power, these two should be
sufficient.
The third step, and most complicated part, is following the four
rules of generating extra force in your punches. These four rules are
linear movement, marriage of gravity, torque, and body pivot. By following
these four rules, you can easily double the power of your punch.
First, you need to follow the rule of linear motion. A lot of
times, when you see someone punch someone, they swing their fist from the
outside inwards towards the opponent. This is a bad idea. Not only do you
lose power with this technique, it is slower, more easily blocked, and
makes it harder to defend yourself from incoming attacks. The best method
is to move your fist in as much of a direct line as possible, from where
it is now to the face of the opponent. Connect straight on, without
wasting any time and energy with a roundhouse swing from the outside. A
direct punch is a lot more difficult to roll with, because instead of
simply needing to turn your face to the side to deflect a large amount of
the impact, you need to roll your head backwards, which can send you
flying back if you are hit hard enough, and it will also open you to
further attacks.
The second principle of powerful punching, is marriage of gravity.
This is actually a very simple concept to apply. As you are punching, have
your entire body drop slightly through a minor bending at the knees. The
slight downward motion helps you add more force to your punch. Trust me,
it works.
Third, is the torque applied to the fist. When you begin your punch,
begin with your fist "sideways," so that it is vertical rather than
horizontal, with your thumb near the top. Then, while you are in the
process of moving your fist through the air and towards the opponent,
begin to rotate it so that when it connects, it connects in a horizontal
position. It's pretty easy to do with a little practice, and the extra
spin definitely hurts more, and the twisting has a higher chance to break
a nose.
The final principle you need to remember for the actual punch, is
to pivot your entire body when you punch. Don't just jab; if you followed
the first rule well, the other guy doesn't know it's coming. A jab will
just disorient him for a second, and then he will know you want to fight.
The trick is to put everything you have into that first strong hit, so
that he won't be able to counter. To do this, shift your shoulders and,
to a lesser degree, the trunk of your body, so that the shoulder of the
arm you are punching with ends up pivoted out towards the opponent when
the arm is fully extended. Try to put some of your weight behind this
pivot, but not too much, because you want to increase the power of the
hit but not knock yourself off balance.
Now, at this point, you've probably done some damage. If you aimed
for the nose, theres a good chance you broke it. You might even cause the
collapse of a cheekbone, though that might bruise your knuckles. Stay away
from hitting the forehead area, the skull is very thick and can hurt your
knuckles a lot. A hit to the eye will probably blacken it. If the guy
turned his head to try to avoid the brunt of the hit, you might hit him
in the ear... this is good, being hit in the ear hurts a whole lot, plus
it can cause deafness and knock the opponent off balance. If the opponent
was being annoying and talking while you hit him, and you hit him in the
jaw, you might even punch his mouth closed, making him bite the tip of his
tongue off in the process. That will definitely end delusions he had of
fighting back.
In the case that you aren't sure he's down for good, remember;
honorable fighters usually lose. As soon as you see he isn't a whimpering
little ball on the floor, start hitting him some more. If you let him get
up, you'll just have to defend yourself in a real fight, and you might
actually get hurt... nobody wants that. So, if your hit didn't knock him
down, punch him again. Try the stomach this time, or aim a little below
the stomach but above the groin if he's drunk... this will make him piss
himself. Kicking out his legs work pretty well too. I won't explain in
detail how to kick, he's messed up enough right now that you don't really
need to know what you're doing and you should be able to take him out.
Once he's down, if he's trying to get up, kick him in the face or stomach
very hard. Or stomp on him. Just don't let him take you in an even fight.
In the case you are too soft-hearted or stupid to follow the above
advice, just remember that 99% of fights are resolved in less than ten
seconds. Also, the vast majority tend to follow the same routine, unless
there are trained fighters involved; the two people immediately begin
grappling, and use any free limbs to perform strikes. Try not to get
sucked into this routine. A much more effective technique is to just
strike the opponent very hard in the face whenever he tries to close in
on you to grapple. If you do it hard enough, he will just keep being
driven off. Capitalize on this time to begin fighting dirty if you can.
Avoid grappling at all costs, unless you are a lot bigger than the other
guy. Just keep hitting him in the face. This will let you win the fight.
So just remember, next time an annoying person says something
stupid, just follow these simple rules and punch him in the face. You'll
be happy you did, and so will everyone around you. Violence is good like
that.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Scott Zibble's Masturbation Experiences Issue #001
[Ascii art coming soon!]
[ Disclaimer: Clearly, Scott Zibble must have lost a really awful bet to
have this posted on the internet for everyone who has ever known him
to see. A very awful bet indeed. --Editor ]
---------
MY FIRST TIME by Scott Zibble
i AM sCOTT zIBBLE AND OOPS EHEHE KEYBOARD MESSUP!
*Squirt*
And that was my first masturbation experience.
Wait, just kidding.
mY FIRST. .. EHEHE DAMMIT IT HAPPENED AGAIN
This laptop keyboard does not like me getting near the As.
Anyway, here is the tale of my first masturbation experience. Me,
Scott Zibble. My middle name surely must be something elaborately
fantastic, like Horatio, Xavier, or perhaps Jason. I am pretty sure my
middle name is Jason. This will come into play later, as you will all
undero?
Okay. All my life, I suffered from a decided lack of sexuality. My
parents asked doctors if I needed hormone therapy to treat my lack of
sexual development, but the doctors assured me that it was just not yet my
time to flower and join the beautiful sexual world all around me.
By the time I was 20, my lack of secondary sex characteristics began
to seriously worry doctors. Ha ha, just kidding! I might have developed
slowly, but not THAT slowly. CDS NUTS? EHEHE! Sorry. Just a little
funny joke there.
Around the time I was 15, and going to Point High School, I was
quite thoroughly confused about my own budding sexuality. I had played
doctor a few times, usually with girls, and I liked what I saw. That was
for sure, I definitely liked naked girls somewhat. THE THE THE THE
JENNIFER LOVE HEWITT BREASTS BREASTS ASIAN ASIAN TONYA HARDING WEDDING
NIGHT
heehehe! No, but I was 15, and all eyes were on me. Why? . . .
I was 156, shit.
I was 15, and in love with the world. All these new sexual
experiences were opening up doors of opportunity in hallways of livelihood
inside complexes of sensation in my neighborhood. Each person I stared at
was a doorway to a new fetish I tried on like a new pair of shoes. The
smoke from my cigarette wafted upwards, forming a smoky halo above the
saloon in which we sat. "Anything Goes," I said, striding confidently out
the double doors, the deafening echo of the blast reawakening me to the
real world.
Everyone I knew talked about it. They dreamt about it. They even
had hand gestures for it. Masturbation--the cause of, and solution to all
life's problems. But, what was it? I was a mere 15, as sexually
inexperienced as a newborn babe. Every woman that passed me brought about
thoughts of rampant, raving, riotously rigorous romps through the sexual
wonderlands of her nude body. Sometimes I could barely contain myself--I
could scarcely believe my own self-control. My hands always stopped just
inches from tube-tops, tank-tops, capri pants, cargo shorts, hot pants,
wifebeaters, bomber jackets, anything that held the sweaty potential of a
night of unrequited lust beneath it. MASTURBATION. MASTURBATION. The
thought BURNED into my thoughts. What was it? How could I do it? Where
could I find it? I had to know.
On the eve of my 16th birthday, perhaps the most important singular
event in my young life, I realized I could in no way consider myself a man
without first experiencing masturbation. I had often tried to do it
myself, only to realize I had no idea what to do. I rubbed up against
doors, cars, ovens, beds, doors, washers, dryers, doors, anything I could
rub against, all to no avail. But I was positive that rubbing was the
answer. So, that night, October 29th, I realized it was now or never.
Deep in the heart of my closet, there lay a copy of _Tit Commandos_,
unread for quite some time. I slowly unraveled the cardboard folder of
sorts I had fashioned for its careful, discreet storage, and gazed at the
magazine in all its glory. Big Tits. Huge Tits. Monstrous Tits.
Beefy Tits. Horrific, Nightmarish Tits of Legend. They were all there
within my reach, ready to take me to new heights of yet unknown pleasure.
Slowly, I opened the magazine. The first page took me by surprise;
it contained a picture of a completely nude, gargantuanly-breasted woman,
causing me to immediately snap to attention. Thinking quickly, I carefully
unzipped my pants. I tossed them aside without a care in the world, and
began rubbing up against things. My bed, my lamp, my door, my dresser, my
toys, everything in sight. But nothing was working. My desperation was
incredible. It was already almost 11:30, with a mere half hour left before
I had wasted my childhood. Out of pure luck, my hand grazed against my
manhood, and a sensation unlike that I had ever experienced before
rocketed through my entire body. I knew I had found my new messiah.
Wasting no time, I clawed and pawed at my unit in every way I could, some
things feeling good, some things feeling positively horrible, until I
settled on a method I could live with--left thumb in urethra, left fingers
on testicles, right hand fully encompassing penis. I tossed, I turned, I
struggled, I cried out to God for mercy. 11:50, and no luck. I ripped, I
tore, I screamed, 11:55, I floundered, I pounded, 11:58, I rotated,
rotated, rotated, rotated, ROTATED, ROTATED, ROTATED, 11:59, ROTATED,
ROTATED!! ROTATED! AHAHAH! SUCCESS! SUCCESS! WE HAVE SUCCEEDED!
11:59, ONE MINUTE BEFORE MY 16th BIRTHDAY, AND I AM A MAN! AHAHA!
Exhausted, I collapsed onto my bed, still clutching my twitching
penis in my hand. That, of course, was how my mother discovered me the
next morning. I have been here in jail ever since. Write me at
sjzibble58@aol.com.
---------
"Oops, I did it again!" by Scott Zibble
In high school, I fancied myself an actor. I would perform in all
the little retarded school plays, hang out with all the retarded thespians,
and just generally be retarded. One night after a particularly retarded
semi-improv, mostly badly scripted student show, I found myself at my pal
Steven Gadlin's house. His parents, for whatever reason, weren't home, and
it was about 8 of us there. I really have no recollection of what happened
as pretense for this story, so it's a little hard to bring up a fancy
narrative. In any case, there was this girl there, for now we'll just call
her J. to hide her true identity. J. was an odd sort, and characteristic
of odd sorts, she had an odd sense of humor. This particular night J.
and myself found it particularly funny to play out "performance art
pieces" by uhh pretending to be static on televisions, or mirroring each
other spasming, among other things. Well, at some point while we were all
sitting around, J. and I continued up the "performance art." We were
tigers, and played tiger games. One of us would lurch at the other, and
the other would fly backwards, then lurch out at the other, and so on,
and so on. This went on for a really long time, and everyone else in the
room was disgusted by our form of flirtation, and left for Steve's bedroom.
(We were in the front room).
It is important to mention that sometime either around now, or
shortly before, "The Doors" greatest hits came on. This was the beginning
of the end. As "artists", see, the music certainly started to affect our
"performance." The scene became much more sexual, as the lurches followed
with eye contact. At some point, the lurching ended up in physical
contact, and we started, uhm, rubbing each other. Not really in a sexual
way, but it definitely had sexual overtones. Well, ONE THING LEAD TO
ANOTHER (HAHAHAHA), and we were pretty much on top of each other, turning
over and over. I figured out a way to shove my penis as hard as I could
into a girl's ass before I ever even kissed her! I think I was living
most men's dream come true! Except, of course, most people would be
dreaming about a girl much different than J..
So, I had my penis between two jeaned ass cheeks, and at this point
I had a brilliant idea. "Hey, we're obviously dry humping. Maybe I should
try to kiss this girl!" However, this was probably a bad idea, since she
did not react to this too well. I think it made her wake up from her
"artist" trance, and she realised, "Oh, shit, Scott Zibble is trying to
shove his tongue into my mouth. FUCK, I'm a lesbian. SHIT." At this
point, she went to school in Saint Louis and shaved her head. No, that was
later. At this point, I Think she sort of let me shove my tongue in her
mouth. I'm not really sure why, because I know now that she was a lot more
attracted to my soon-to-be girlfriend than me, but maybe it was the fact
that our bodies were completely stuck together by our sweat-ooze and she
wouldn't be able to escape me if she tried. That's not to say I'm a
rapist, but I probably get the wrong idea after I dry hump a girl for 45
minutes.
Where was I? Oh, ok. At some point the doors CD ended, and we
found ourselves completely exhausted. So we thought to ourselves, "oh, uh,
we're at Steve's house" and we went back into the other room and proceeded
to drink a gallon of orange juice between us. The tension in the room was
pretty thick, as people did not know how to respond to the fact that they
had walked in and saw us dry humping earlier, and we didn't react at all.
But now we were completely drenched in sweat, and J.'s knees and feet were
entirely black and blue. It was cool. Girls who are beat up by my massive
humping attacks are cool.
Oh well. I don't really know where else to go with this story,
since the end of it is completely anti-climatic. I went on to date another
girl for 5 years a week after this event, so I didn't have any sexual
experiences with J. after this point. But I will always remember fondly
the girl who I TURNED INTO A LESBIAN by dry humping at Steve Gadlin's
house.
---------
"Why Scott Zibble has a problem with Grammar"
(Or, "What really happened...")
by, uh, Scott Zibble
Ok. So I'm in this play. But it's not really a play, it's kinda
like this improv comedy / sketch comedy thingy... which basically changed
my life, etc. etc. etc. But that's my story. This is Scott's story. So
here goes.
My folks were out of town. They were somewhere gambling. My
mother loves to gamble. My father hates to gamble, but he's submissive.
So they gamble a LOT. They go to the boats, they go to Vegas... and it
pisses my Dad off. But that's my Dad's story. This is Scott's.
So we're hanging out in the living room. Then we move to the
kitchen. Then Scott and J. put on the Doors and start dancing all silly.
We ignore them. There is no place in the world for sexy silliness. But
that is the World's story. This is Scott's.
All of us who weren't Scott or J. head to the back room... my
sister's old bedroom. It had been converted into a rumpus room. What the
FUCK is a rumpus room? I dunno. But a lot of rumpus happened that night.
Debby Paul pretended that her crotch was glued to mine, and Yael Levit sat
in a corner and emoted. But that's Yael's story. This is Scott's.
I was getting a little bored... I pried Debby Paul off of my crotch
and walked into the kitchen to see what was up. Scott's PENIS was. HA!
Him and J. had escalated their performance art into DRY HUMPING. (I
really didn't know this was dry humping... I didn't hear the phrase dry
humping until weeks later when J. told me HER side of the story. At the
time, I just called it 'making out.'") But that's a parenthetical story.
This is Scott's.
"Wooo!" I said. Ribald ribald ribald. Ribald McDibald. Over 6
Billion served. Master and Servant. But that's Depeche Mode's story.
This is Scott's.
I snuck back to my sister's old bedroom, and said in my loudest
whisper... "HOLY FUCKING SHIT, SCOTT AND J. ARE FUCKING MAKING OUT!!"
Then, one by one, we snuck down the hallway to peek in the kitchen. This
went on.. and on... and on.... (Dude... this is f'n crazy. If I was dry
humping J. my senior year of High School, I would have lasted about 30
seconds. DAMN! Scott had endurance man! He dry humped the FUCK out of
this girl. If dry humping was an institution like sex is, Scott would be
the fucking Rico fucking Suave of DRY HUMPING!!!!!!!!) But that's dry
humping's story. This is Scott's.
Rrrrrrrrrrico! Suuuuuuuuaaaaaave. That was for Katie. But that's
Katie's story. This is Scott's.
About an hour later, Scott finished up. To this day, I don't know
if "finishing up" meant he shot a wad of spunk in his jeans, or he just
got tired of the rug burns. Same dif. So they come back into the room.
Let me lapse into a story here:
There is a face people make when they are hiding something. It is a
labored face. They are trying their DAMNDEST to keep their face from
letting on that they KNOW something. That they've SEEN something. This
face is not a fun face for anyone involved. Every single muscle of the
face is CONTROLLED. Every brain cell is spent on making these muscles
LIE. Making these muscles pretend that they have not just seen Scott
Zibble dry humping J. on their fucking KITCHEN FLOOOOOOOOR!!! HOLY
FUCKING SHIT, SCOTT! THESE MUSCLES STILL HURT FROM THE MOMENT YOU WALKED
INTO THAT BEDROOM WITH J. AND A GALLON OF FUCKING ORANGE JUICE. We saw
you, Scott. We all fucking saw you. We saw you, J. Well. We saw the
pieces of you that were sticking out from under Scott's DRY HUMPING BODY.
Arms. Wiggling around. Legs kinda kicking... kinda saying, "Holy shit,
this goth-dude is ramming his manhood into my... my thighs. Doesn't he
know where the fucking vagina is?!@#@!?"
This story can only end with a rhyming couplet.
When the Doors said, "Come on baby light my fire,"
They didn't mean dry humping J.
Bitch.
---------
":)"
by Scott Zibble
:)
[1]: I never had an orgasm. In fact, I don't know if I'm able to have
an orgasm outside of unprotected vaginal sex. But that's another
story. This is my dry humping story.
[2]: I always knew that you had seen it, since I heard you whisper at
some point. I bet J. had heard it, too, because that made the part
where we sit there and drank all your orange juice a lot more funny.
[3]: It could have been worse. It could have been Tamara Newberger.
This is a reference only one person will find funny.
---------
"Soybean's First Masturbation Experience" by Scott Zibble
Actually, this is not about Katie's first masturbation experience.
This is about the first time Katie caught Drew Hunt masturbating.
I don't know any details about this story at all. But that
introduction sure is funny!
---------
"..." by J.
:D :D :D
---------
"I Don't Get It" by Scott Zibble
"She's fondling remembering the time Scott Zibble dry humped you on
my kitchen floor," Steven Gadlin explained to me.
---------
"The Rally" by Scott Zibble, clearly
Well, I know there's a bunch of rumors going around out about my
"first time," (hehehe) but I thought I'd finally set the record straight.
It'll help me clear the air.
I know a lot of people's "first time"s are usually awkward, private
moments which they often do not like to share with others, but really, why
all the fuss? We should be more open about our private lives and personal
details! It's all in good fun!
Anyway, when I was 17, I went to my first rally. We were
protesting capitalism. Or, a capitalist society, more specifically. It
was in front of Wall Street and there were 211 other people, including the
most interesting creature I've ever met, Ayn Rand.
Now, I know some people say this ol' bird ain't no looker, but
there's so much you can really talk about. The way she uses words and
laughs with her friends! The way she smiles... the way her lips curve....
oh, I could go on forever about it. But rather than overload you with all
these gushing details, I'll just tell you this: I was completely captured.
Beyond her looks, her personality was so defined. So objective. And her
wild beauty was merely the signature on the check that was my love.
But I couldn't talk to her! I was so embarassed... she was such a
better protester, always sayin' just the right chant at the right time.
All night I stared at her--I stared into her beautiful eyes, but she didn't
even notice me. She pretended like I didn't exist. Eventually, when she
was alone for a few minutes, I approached her: "hey," I said, "I'm a
Zibble. Private property sucks!" I was trying to be funny. Did it work?
She said "hey," back.
I'll spare you the details, but when I got home after our long talk
that night, I felt something I never had felt before. My body had a
certain tingle. I kept imagining her smiling, telling me about her silly
theories, over and over and over again, and she had so much to say! She
brought so much of herself out, that it awoken something inside of me.
Now, my parent raised me right. I was a decent, American kid. I
had my morals. I didn't think about dirty things like that... but this
time, I couldn't contain myself--literally! Before I knew it, after
thinking about her for so long, I made a little surprise mess in my pants.
That was weird!
---------
"My Last Time" by Scott Zibble
I scarcely have time to even scrawl this down on paper, this, the
last will and testament of Scott Zibble. The ruined shopping mall is still
raining down slowly upon me, even as I frantically stuff my last remaining
cartridge into my modified AK-47. I take slow, determined breaths,
careful not to give any excessive notification of my presence. Even in
this hellish, wasted landscape in which I now sit, thoughts of happier
times float through my visage. I see J., I see _Tit Commandos_, I see
every joyous sexual moment of my entire life. And I see my own end
approaching. How is this possible? How is it I have been so defeated?
Head so full of wonder, visions of the past, with this decadent reality
slowly swallowing my every action. Oh, god, let it all be over soon.
Was it really yesterday? Was it so long ago, so far away, yet so
crystal clear? Sitting quietly, undiscovered, stashed away behind piles
and piles of canned food, I partook in the final sexual experience of my
all too brief life. A quite rotted banana in the corner of the shelter
had a faded Chiquita sticker on its pungent shell, with the lewdly winking
image of the whorish Carmen Miranda. She wanted me. There was no doubt.
She wanted her final rot-free fling to be with a real man like Scott Jason
Zibble. I quietly undid my pants, allowed everything to fall into place,
and quickly and silently performed the joyous deed. There was no real joy,
merely the blissful first relaxation I had experienced since this whole
horrible mess got started.
I know they are close now. I do not have much time left. If this
is the last thing I ever write, so be it. I will make my stand. Now.
---------
"Top 10 Masturbation Singles" by Scott Zibble
I have found it is not always easy to find good music to furiously
masturbate to. So, I have kept a good log of great music to masturate to.
Here is my top 10.
10. "I wanna sex you up" by Color Me Badd -- Although this song is
typically frowned upon by current youth, The message is clear:
unshaven rough boys singing about sex is always great masturbation
music.
9. "Hey Jude" by The Beatles -- This may not seen like a very sexual
song, but the crescendo at the end when they go "na na na na
nanananana" is the perfect climax to the song. GET IT? CLIMAX? WHEN
YOU HAVE AN ORGASM SOMETIMES YOU CALL IT A CLIMAX?
8. "2 B The Master" by the Pokemon People -- What can I say? Whenever
I think of the ice queen Jesse, my turgid cock jumps to attention.
This isn't funny at all, so I will just jump to #1.
1. "Freedom '90" by George Michaels -- I'm gay.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
TAKING A PUNCH TO THE FACE WHEN BEING ANNOYING by Lachrymite
At some point in your life, you've been an annoying little bitch.
It's true for all of us. Someone, somewhere, sometime, has wanted to hit
you as hard as they can with their fist, right in your nose, in order to
cause blood to squirt and bone to break. Don't get upset by it, it's
just a part of being human. Luckily for you, not many people have read,
"How to Punch an Annoying Person in the Face." Thus, you most likely
haven't been punched in the face while being annoying, and that's usually
a good thing because you probably aren't that good looking to begin with,
a broken nose could very well make you downright hideous.
Fear not, though! I will once again be your tutor in the ways of
hand to hand combat, and will give you simple instructions on how not to
get your nose broken when being annoying.
First off, the best way to avoid this is by simply not being
annoying. For most people, unfortunately, this step simply isn't feasible.
Since you can't control your urges to be annoying, I suppose we must move
on to the next step, even though prevention really is the best defense.
If you actually do find yourself being annoying, remember to always
be paranoid. No matter who you are with, whether they are a little old
lady or a seven foot tall escaped convict named Bubba, the person may just
decide to hit you in the face for some stupid comment you made. Never
trust anyone, and be on guard at all times. Also, watch everyone's
shoulders. This may seem odd to you at first, but the earliest sign that
you are about to get punched is that the shoulders will begin to shift.
Don't listen to those people who say, "Always watch the eyes of your
enemy!" They are stupid. Anyone who has a good amount of training won't
give away in their eyes when they are about to smash your face in.
So now you see the shoulders of your enemy starting to shift, and
his arm is beginning to rise, like he's going to punch you in the face.
Now, the best way to take a punch is to get out the way. There are several
ways to do this, depending on the type of punch being thrown.
First, if the person hasn't read, "How to Punch an Annoying Person,"
they probably have no idea what they are doing, and are swinging wildly.
If the person is literally swinging at you, with his fist going from the
outside in a circular motion inwards towards your body, the best way to
avoid it is to step into his punch. Get in close enough that his fist goes
somewhere behind you, and his forearm or elbow joint hits your arm. This
will do absolutely no damage to you, and you are in a great position to
counter the punch. From this close up position, you can punch him
yourself, you can knee him in the testicles, you can even pull a Three
Stooges move and poke him in the eyes if you just want to be even more
annoying. You can also parry his attack by grabbing his arm and doing
various nasty twisty things to it, but we won't get into that. If you want
to be really mean, you should be close to smooch him on the lips.
If the punch gets through, you must immediately turn your head with
the force of the punch, so that if the blow hits on the right side of your
head, turn your face to the left, to help deflect some of the impact. It
will also help lessen damage to your neck if you roll with the punch.
Whatever you do, don't tense up your neck before you are hit, that is much
more likely to cause all sorts of icky spinal damage. You wouldn't want to
end up like Christopher Reeves, would you?
Also, try not to actually move your head until the fist is
connecting. Moving your head too early will result in you getting punched
in the ear, which is a very uncomfortable experience.
If the person has indeed read, "How to Punch an Annoying Person,"
they are probably going to be coming at you in a much more direct manner.
There are two ways to deal with this. Your decision should be based on how
strong your opponent seems to be, and how thick you believe your skull to
be. For example, our friend Quarex should most definitely stick to method
two, while those of us with significantly less armored craniums should
stick to method one.
First, if you think your skull isn't very thick, your opponent looks
very strong, and you can probably move faster than him, you should get the
hell out of the way. The most effective way to do this is to simply shift
your body, in a short dodge. If your opponent is striking with his right
hand, step back with your left foot, placing it behind your right foot, and
pivot your body so you are now no longer facing him. With practice, you
can become amazingly fast at this, it's quite impressive. When the attack
comes from the opposite arm, repeat with reverse foot. This technique also
works well against weapons, so if he pulls a knife and tries to stab you,
this is probably your safest bet. Once his fist is where your face was a
few moments earlier, you should grab it and use it to your advantage in
countering.
One especially gruesome thing to do is to place your leg underneath
the armpit of the enemy's extended arm, and while holding the arm, jump
up with your grounded leg and use the leg that is on the enemy to shove.
Yank the arm as hard as you can while you do this. You will end up on the
ground, but if you have any luck or weight, the enemy will have something
popped out of a socket, most likely a wrist if you grabbed the hand. This
is guaranteed to end a fight. If it doesn't just get up, and start hitting
whatever part of his body has been ripped from the socket. He will most
likely start crying. Optionally, you can use this grabbed arm to pull him
into one of your own punches with more force.
If you have a lot of room on either side, you may wish to simply
sidestep the attack by shifting your entire body towards the opponent and
to the right or left, by means of shuffling the feet in a quick one step
move with each foot. This is actually safer, but it is more effective for
running away, as you are now somewhat behind your opponent.
If you are like our mighty friend Quarex, and your skull has natural
armor, you may instead opt to take the punch. Yes, that's right, actually
get hit. Although this sounds silly at first, the trick is getting to
choose where your enemy hits you; your skull. Lower your head slightly,
so that his fist collides with the area just above your forehead. This is
pretty much the thickest and strongest bone in your body. Hopefully, the
knuckles of the person punching will slam into your forehead. You will get
a bruise most likely, but if he has a lot of force, he will break his
knuckles. If he keeps throwing punches, you can keep blocking like this.
If at any time you feel like you are going to pass out, then you should
stop trying to break his knuckles with your head, and start dodging
instead.
Honestly though, it's stupid not to dodge after the first punch,
and you probably deserve to have your brain knocked around a bit. You
can't actually build up an offensive while just bashing your skull into
the knuckles of the enemy, so I suggest this as a technique to mainly
unsettle the opponent. After all, most people won't want to keep fighting
a guy who happily mashes his head into your fist. You can use this
intimidation advantage to help you beat him, but make sure you aren't a
retard and just keep getting hit, unless you have Fight Club delusions or
something equally dumb.
Also note, that if the person uses an alternative to the standard
fist, this will be far less effective. You probably won't break anything,
you'll be lucky to give them a bruise. In this case, you should still use
the forehead block technique if you absolutely have to, but it's far more
intelligent to just dodge.
If you follow all of these strategies, you will be able to
effectively defend yourself from anyone who may have the sudden urge to
punch you in the face. This is an invaluable skill, because you are
probably an annoying piece of shit, and people most likely often want to
punch you.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THINGS I GOT IN TROUBLE FOR IN JUNIOR HIGH by Haradrim
1. Punching an australian kid in the head.
This was on a wednesday if I remember correctly. The night before
I had gotten a rather sub-standard haircut, an offset bowl cut that made
me look a cross between the beatles and spock, since my hair was died
jet black. I was already rather sensitive about this, (having gotten a
comment from everyone I saw that I knew) and while engaging a kid who had
just moved to our little shit hole from Australia in conversation during
first period art class, he made the comment, in a thick aussie accent that
"It looks lawk ya got ya hair cut wif a lawnmower!". Now, this kid had,
admittedly, already seen some rough times, for being such an Aussie
immigrant to Iowa and whatnot, but he had also made friends with some of
my enemies, and had made the remark about my hair. Not that I stopped to
consider these factors. About two seconds after he said it, my fist
zoomed with maximum force into the side of his face, knocking him over a
chair. The next few seconds were a wolverine-like berseker rage,
everything blurred and time slowed to a crawl, as I searched my scopes for
my opponent. Then the rather massive art teacher screamed, put me in a
bear hug and carried me out of the room. After a brief visit to the
principles office and some various witness reports we were both suspended
for 3 days. This caused me to be home earlier than expected and
consequently, to begin my newspaper delivering earlier than normal, at
about 11AM instead of 3pm. This deviation from normal schedule caused me
to run into a group of people who normally wouldn't have crossed my path,
who ended up chasing me around with a gun for about 20 minutes. All in all
a bad day.
2. Wearing a bullet proof vest.
The day after the Jonesboro shooting, I wore a bulletproof vest to
school. "Twisted bid for attention" and "brilliant socio-political
commentary" topped the lists of theories people gave for my doing this
(I did it mainly because it occured to me that I could). My art teacher
decided it was the same as walking into school with a gun, and sent me to
the office, where he presumed I would be expelled. The principle, and the
assistant principle, and the other office staff, after staring at me and
whispering from the doorway of the principle's office for about five
minutes, kindly asked me to put it in my locker and return to class.
3. The latex breastplate.
I like halloween. I overindulge myself on halloween most years.
One of my more interesting costume relics was a latex plate that strapped
to my chest and made it appear that my innards were falling out, and a
goblin was in my stomach, chewing on them. Because the idea popped into
my head, i wore it under my shirt to school and randomly showed it to
people throughout the day, mainly out of the blue while they were talking
to me. I got all the way to 2nd period before i got sent up to the office
and it got confiscated. My parents did not get it out of confiscation for
me.
4. Gang related activities.
The assignment was to illustrate the 2nd amendment......my
brilliant drawing included 4 handguns on fire arranged to make a swastika,
a design i stole from Juxtapoz art magazine (Hitler was for gun control...
America has freedom to bear) among revolutionary war soldiers, and floating
molotov cocktails. They couldn't tell me what gang this indicated I
belonged to exactly, but I got suspended for 3 days. My parents thought
this was stupid and appealed it with the local school board. The
suspension was overturned, we won.
5. Deliverance
The assignment had something to do with "mountain men" and
illustrating them. The mention of "mountain men" in my mind brings forth
the two inbreds from the classic movie Deliverance, who end up raping the
canoers in one of the best scenes in movie history ("Squeal like a
piggy!")......so i incorporated this fairly overtly into my poster, and
got another trip to the office.
6. Being Nuts.
My 8th grade english teacher was an old and crotchety woman who
didn't particularly like me. It was mutual. Apparently, some of the
drawings in my notebook (which she photocopied when I was out of the room)
some of my shirts, some of my facial expressions, etc, disturbed her, and
she recommended me for psychological counseling. My parents and I were
not notified or asked, but I was summoned to the office and a rather
skeptical young black man interrogated me for an hour or so, wanting to
know if I was satanic, if my parents beat me up, if I ate small children,
if I burned crosses, and if I listened to _Nine Inch Nails_. He had me go
back to class after getting nothing but "no", "yes", and an unchanging
scowl from me. I still had no idea what the hell was going on til my
parents called the school that night and got me taken out of the psych
program.
7. Coming to class.
I talked. I got sent out of the room. After waiting about half
an hour for the teacher to come yell at me, I simply re-entered the room
and sat at my desk. 30 seconds later, I was on my way to the office.
8. Wearing naughty things.
I have probably over 100 t-shirts, most of them black, and sporting
some kind of offensive slogan or picture. I wore many of these to school,
where I ended up having to wear them inside out. The all-time favorite
was from the Church of Euthanasia, who used to reside over at paranoia.com,
which read "Save The Planet - Kill Yourself" on the front and
"Suicide * Abortion * Cannibalism * Sodomy" on the back.
9. Talking.
I talk. Loudly and at times I shoudln't. This causes many
detentions.
10. Throwing things.
I throw things. Heavy things at times I shouldnt. This causes many
trips to the office.
11. Screaming
Often times, our cafeteria was forced to be completely silent,
because being kids at lunch, we talked a lot. The noise got to our
overseers. So, in a completely silent room filled with a couple hundred
kids I HAD to do something. The first something was to fall over
backwards grabbing my foot and screaming. foot cramp I said. They didnt
buy it. A couple weeks later, I just screamed "fuck me in the ass" at
the top of my lungs, then completely denied it. They didnt really buy
that either, but they didnt know what to do about it.
12. Miscellaneous.
There was a bunch of other crap, but I cant recall at the moment.
I think I got in trouble for mummifying myself with tape, too.
Epilogue: I have gotten into 0 trouble in 2 years of high school.
I attribute this to a different school district where the teachers aren't
all cruel and poor.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE WIZARD by pl0nk
see this hand,
it makes $100,000 a day
and this hand,
this hand makes another $100,000 a day,
king of this game'n shit since NES came out
motha fuckaz know when they come bring the ruccus to the motha fuckn
wizard, ain't gonna be nuttin but straight up torcher an shit, bitch.
yo yo yo
i'll fuckin tie you to a bed post with your ass cheeks all spread
out an shit put a hanga on a stove and let that shit sit on the
stove for like a half an hour and than stick it up your ass all
slow like
yo i'll fuckn i'll fuckin lay ya nuts up on a dresser, just ya nuts
layin on the dresser and bang them shits with a spiked bat, whasa
( BLAOW )
yo i'll fuckn i'll fuckn pull your tongue out ya fuckn mouth and
stick a rusty ass screw driver
-----
thus we ended the power trip of THE WIZARD and began the disassembly
of his brain. three hours later we had the wizards brian and the vast
knowledge which was contained inside. we had the codes and the plans, we
had the fingering techniques and the game genie. who was this game genie,
an alternate personality? perhaps it was the key to the wizards success.
none the less we were going to be rich and famous.
the plastic sugery was a success, granted i pay a load of money for
this operation. i don't think to many people realise how much it costs to
get a total make over to look like the wizard, aside from those who only
dreampt it up in hollywood.
i took the money and fled to amsterdam, where else would you go if
you were rich? everythings legal, underaged prostitution, drugs, beatings,
killings, burned cds, mp3s you name it and it'll probably be legal.
a year after aquiring the brain we had fully analyzed the game genie
and were able to encrypt it into a program and designed an attachment to
games. this is what everyone was after, the key to winning all games. We
called it, " Game Genie. " and sold it in stores for 80$ a pop, gave 1
booklet with 100 game titles and than sold seperate books for 25$ to make
back pay so that we were able to afford all the cars, the boats, the
houses and the hookers.
three years later, nintendo died. super nintendo arose. there has
never been a new wizard to date and if there is, they will never show
their face because the wizard found out!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
ANONYMOUS T-SHIRT SUGGESTIONS FOR THINKGEEK.COM
PROVIDED BY THE USERS OF SLASHDOT.COM
"I WANT TO RAPE NATALIE PORTMAN"
"I LIKE THE GIRL IN HACKERS THE MOVIE"
"I'D CRUSH YOU IN LASER TAG"
"#!/usr/bin/FUCK YOU"
"I GOT MY JOB FROM EFNET"
"I WRITE SHITTY KDE APPS"
"I BRAKE FOR PERL! :-O"
"O'REILLY IS MY COLLEGE EDUCATION"
"I REFUSE TO VACATE MY APARTMENT AS IT WOULD RUIN MY UPTIME"
"I'M WITH NOBODY --->"
"I'M WITH 0x00000000"
"THIS T-SHIRT IS #FFFFFF"
"THERE'S A NULL POINTER IN MY PANTS"
"IF I LEFT THE HOUSE YOU'D BE ABLE TO READ THIS"
"TSHIRT NOT FOUND"
"I DON'T NEED WOMEN WHEN I CAN SIT AROUND FOR A HALF AN HOUR
WAITING FOR A BOAT IN EVERQUEST"
"IRQ CONFLICT"
"GOD NEVER SEGFAULTS"
"JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SIMMS"
"THE BIBLE HAS NO SECURITY HOLES"
"I AM AROUSED BY GIRLS OF THE CAM PERSAUSION"
"TRAPPED IN A JAVASCRIPT PORN LABYRINTH"
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
/* redbox.c */
/* Written by Javaman */
#include <sys/types.h> /* yes, this code compiles */
#include <sys/stat.h> /* gcc -o redbox redbox.c -lm */
#include <fcntl.h> /* don't forget to link in the math library */
#include <stdlib.h> /* this code requires linux and sound support */
#include <unistd.h>
#include <sys/ioctl.h>
#include <linux/soundcard.h>
#include <stdio.h>
#include <math.h>
#define QUANTIZE 16
#define CHANNELS 1
int main(void)
{
int n; /* were things really better back in the day? i seem to */
unsigned long int i; /* not be able to let go of the past, tend */
int sound_fd, status; /* to revel on previous experiences, just */
unsigned long int bufsize, arg; /* because it is ... comfortable. */
unsigned short int *buf; /* .. as pathetic as a middle-aged corporate */
unsigned int samplerate = 32000; /* drone watching tapes of his old */
unsigned long int samples = samplerate * .330; /* football games */
sound_fd = open("/dev/dsp", O_RDWR); /* from back in the day, when */
if (sound_fd < 0) { /* "your mother and I were dating". but the */
perror("/dev/dsp"); exit(1); /* warm fuzzy of nostalgia, */
} /* knowing that yes, you accomplished something, makes the world */
bufsize = samples * sizeof(unsigned short int); /* feel a bit */
buf = (unsigned short int *) malloc(bufsize); /* easier to deal with, */
arg = QUANTIZE; /* and accept eventual death, almost as though we */
status = ioctl(sound_fd, SOUND_PCM_WRITE_BITS, &arg); /* have made */
if (status == -1) { /* indellable marks upon the history of */
perror("SOUND_PCM_WRITE_BITS ioctl failed"); /* whatever. */
exit(1); /* but a sigh usually caps off the standard */
} /* cock-stroking session of the BBS-dayz bullshit, of when we only */
if (arg != QUANTIZE) { /* had 32 baud modems. Maybe it is that */
perror("unable to set quantize rate"); /* i need to know */
exit(1); /* how little i knew, how young i was to re- */
} /* assure myself of the growth that i have (?) experienced, */
arg = samplerate; /* magic marker lines with my handle and the */
status = ioctl(sound_fd, SOUND_PCM_WRITE_RATE, &arg); /* date, maybe */
if (status == -1) { /* a dial-in or two on some sort of collective */
perror("SOUND_PCM_WRITE_RATE ioctl failed"); /* parental */
exit(1); /* doorjam belonging to history herself. it could */
} /* be a quest for immortality, for power, all expressions of sex-*/
arg = CHANNELS; /* ual drives, or maybe my inner child for a hug. */
status = ioctl(sound_fd, SOUND_PCM_WRITE_CHANNELS, &arg); /* but i */
if (status == -1) { /* am not by any means someone who has any clue */
perror("SOUND_PCM_WRITE_CHANNELS ioctl failed"); /* about */
exit(1); /* anything, other than distilled problems which */
} /* can be expressed in purely logical situations, which is */
printf("Bufsize: %i\n", bufsize); /* almost a moot point when deal- */
for (i = 0; i < samples; i++) { /* ing with complex systems such */
buf[i] = 0; /* as human interaction. feeling.. like a jazz */
} /* note on life, thoughts from the crowds, interacting, loving? */
for (n = 0; n < 5; n++) { /* each one special in it's own way. */
for (i = (n * .066 * samplerate); i < (samplerate * (.033 + .066*n)); i++) { /* it has been said that empathy is what sets us apart from the */
/* animals, but */ buf[i] = (unsigned short int) ((cos(2*M_PI*1700*i/samplerate) + cos(2*M_PI*2200*i/samplerate)) * 10000); /* does anyone give a rat's */
} /* ass about other people when their own lives are at a */
} /* crossroads? nihilism. the opposite of hippiedom? the cyclic- */
printf("Generating tones...\n"); /* al nature of the thread, which */
status = write(sound_fd, buf, bufsize); /* should just be trashed, */
if (status != bufsize) { /* but that is okay. vibes can be re- */
perror("wrote wrong number of bytes"); /* corded, saved, */
} /* reflected upon, cherished, possibly, forgotten, probably. */
status = ioctl(sound_fd, SOUND_PCM_SYNC, 0); /* but it can be hoped */
if (status == -1) { /* that someone, years from now, reads this, */
perror("SOUND_PCM_SYNC ioctl failed"); /* and imagines the */
} /* the writer, back in the day, reminiscing on when the sounds */
return 0; /* and the medium actually meant freedom of thought, and, */
} /* possibly, a shot and eternal life. */
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
FRANKIE AND SPARKS by Puck
Frankie and Sparks, it turns out, were both waiting for the same moment
their entire lives. This coincidence only became apparent after it
happened - after reality slipped up and exposed its seams. After all
that was real and true unbecame. After one very existential,
soul-twisting hiccup.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Frankie.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Sparks.
And then, together, "I knew it."
Ever since Frankie could remember, he had felt there was something wrong
with the world. He knew that one day, reality would come undone, and
everything would finally make sense. It was all somebody else's game.
He was just a piece. As he grew older, this feeling built up inside of
him like a pressure. Love, hate, loneliness, the Ethiopians, none of
these things were real. They would be exposed as mere punch lines to some
grand joke. And all would be right as he let out his sigh.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Frankie.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Sparks.
And then, together, "I knew it."
When Sparks was in college, there was one drug-induced false alarm. She
had been coaxed into dropping acid by her roommate. As zebras began
climbing out of their dorm room walls, Sparks lapsed into frenzied
laughter.
"I knew it," she said. "None of this was real. There are zebras
leaping out of the walls. Reality was wrong." Later, she wore her
disappointment like a thick overcoat that had been left out in the rain,
and snarled.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Frankie.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," said Sparks.
And then, together, "I knew it."
And this time, they did. There was no mistake. Frankie and Sparks both
bore witness to reality's undoing. Frankie sighed. He felt an enormous
rush of relief. Weights were lifted off of his shoulders that he never
even knew were there. There was no laughing this time for Sparks. A tear
welled up in each eye and hung weightless on her cheeks. This was all
expected. These were all feelings they had been waiting for. All except
one.
Sparks turned to Frankie, put her lips on his, and all the while purple
hand grenades, thousands of millions of purple hand grenades, reflected
in the teardrops on her cheeks.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 14:18:36 PDT
From: Mooer <suekimrocks@yahoo.com>
To: Mogel <mogel@hoe.nu>
Subject: final issue of hoe
why did i ever trust you, peanut butter?
did you not like what was in the future for you?
questions have answers that may indeed be found within the imaginary
number "i".
"i" = square root of one.
there are lots and tons of things that have "i " in it. things such as
paintings, especially those of a cubist nature, and other such things
as peanut butter. but why "i" never trusted that you would pull through
is because you have no faith in the power of "you". always blaming the
tragic circumstances, always lamenting your plight. oh just FUCK OFF
will "you". and now you return to me, oh-god-dammned peanut butter and
claim that you are only made of peanuts and butter churned in aunt
charlemagne's barn. that cow set chicago on fire for a reason, you
know. free will and killer whales have never been a better combination.
so now that you have realized the power of "i", please retract all your
statements and even your questions for a better imaginary world which
can never be proven as calculus or honey. the combination on a sandwich
is a permutation which can only make sense to those who know the
language. those who are literate can feed the hungry. those who are
poor can feed the rich. talentless, or otherwise said the bible -- the
stinger bee attitudes.
you have tasted other honeys, you have sinned. you have nibbled on
other ears, corny or not, it's true. juxtaposed metaphors is now the
only calculus that i can express myself to you. confused calculations,
commandments broken will always be commandments broken. blue kraut
remains blue kraut, wedding dresses remain wedding dresses, as the
tongue-tied germans might say.
"i" has fallen from the grace. "i" has loved too many. "i" has now
learned to never base responsibility on that which is real.
"i" loved "you".
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
IN REGARDS TO QUAREX'S PENIS by Soybean
I first spoke with the viking known as Quarex on the evening of
December 13, 1997, as well as the illustrious bunch of his friends from
Bloomington/Normal. While there was a sizable group I spoke with that
night, Quarex stood out, as he was much more forthcoming with information
about himself, coupled with everyone else being completely shameless in
reporting details about him before themselves. Among other things I
learned that night, I discovered that Quarex was unable, in spite of his
most valiant efforts, to get girls; I discovered that he was the renowned
leader of Aethelwulf's Utopia BBS; and that he had a giant head. What
stood out above all, however (aside from the giant head), was his repeated
insistence that he was a man who had evolved beyond the need for
masturbation -- that it was an activity he never engaged in.
A number of months later, PezMonkey and I ended up in Litchfield,
IL, at her uncle's house, with Quarex, Jamesy, MadPony, and RJ (I have
lost track of his handle). An odd weekend overall, most notable was that
I ended up dating Quarex shortly after, due in large part to a bet he had
made with his friends years earlier. This New Relationship with Quarex
enabled me to learn more about him and observe habits which were
previously unknown to me. As such I was unable to unravel parts of the
enigma that is Quarex [aka BunnyMustard]. Since then, he has himself
admitted to being a liar, though no directly, in HOE #1101, "The First
Time," a file detailing his first masturbation experience. (I add that
this file was also written due to a bet made with Mogel some time ago).
In my time with Quarex, I uncovered a great deal of evidence
indicating that he was lying in his incessant insistant that he was above
masturbating. This evidence is detailed below.
1. He is male. I suspected this previous to dating him,
incidentally.
2. He takes hour long showers daily. Take from this what you will.
3. Umm. I believe I witnessed said activity at his house in
May of 1998.
4. A person who so vehemently denies doing such a thing is
obviously very much a practicer of said activity.
I think that actually covers it fairly succinctly. While I have
suspected Drew was a fervent masturbator for the last 2.5 years, his
admission of it at this time confirms the hesitance I felt toward our
continuing friendship. Quarex, you have destroyed our trust, and in turn,
our friendship. I bid you farewell, Masturbator.
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
WORTHLESS EX-GIRLFRIEND by Quarex
My ex-girlfriend Jennifer is the kind of person you more or less
want to forget about after dating. You will remember the lessons you
learned from dating the person (in other words, "Do not date girls who
talk about shopping constantly, or refer to themselves as fat though also
admit they are anorexic"), but you try to forget everything else.
Well, I knew I wanted to make some kind of text file about her,
since that is what I do with most everything in my life. I also knew it
had to be something disturbing and/or funny. I threw away the notes she
gave me, so I cannot use those for fodder (I assure you she misspelled
"You're" as "Your" every chance she got), and I deleted most of her
e-mail, but one untapped resource is still available to me: ICQ Messages.
Unfortunately, the new version of ICQ I have has somehow removed
the most useful feature, which is exporting the message history to a
text file. So, in lieu of that, I just figured searching my messages to
and from her for the word "cum" would prove most entertaining.
Thus, here is a very brief chronological history between my
month-and-a-half girlfriend, Jennifer, and me. And no, I am not adding
random spaces and pauses in her text, that is actually how she types, as
bizarre as it may be. And I also apologize in advance for anyone feeling
physically ill when they think about me doing something sexual with a girl,
but if it is any consolation, you will find essentially we did none of the
things she went on and on about, even if primarily because I did not really
want to touch a SKELETON in that "special way."
JUNE 23: ABOUT A WEEK AFTER WE START DATING
J: "god, I am cumming everywhere just thinking about you"
Q, in retrospect, sez: Now, I already knew this was not the
kind of thing you generally say to your boyfriend
after you had been dating for a week. Especially
when the most sexual thing you had done is (not very
much) kissing.
JUNE 30: A WEEK AND A HALF AFTER WE START DATING
J: "Well I feel that way (referring to the note she left me)
and honestly I think that the more time we spend together
the more i think about us having sex"
(a little later)
J: "you want to suck me don't you
your making me so horney
that i just want to get on top of you and ride you
and ride you and rub your dick and making you squirt all over me
you getting me all wet
so wet i stick my finger in me and i am cumming everhwhere"
Q, in retrospect, sez: Keep in mind, by this point, and indeed
throughout the course of our relationship, nothing detailed
in these two messages even happened. She did not "ride me"
and "rub my dick" and "make me squirt all over her," and I
certainly did not "suck her," whatever the hell she exactly
meant by that.
(about 20 hours later, but the same day)
J: "This is some cyber
for your viewing pleasure tonight.
I slowly
get on top of you
slowly slide your dick up inside of me
thrusting back and forth
making you groan and moan and your grabbing my nipples and
making them harder and i
go back and forth"
Q, in retrospect, sez: Christ, of all the things she sent me
that made me say "Oh god, she really is nuts," this is one
of the biggest ones. Well, that, and the one where she
said "Promise me you wouldn't believe it if Jeremy (the guy
I was pretty sure she would cheat on me with the whole time
we dated, who she dated once we broke up) made up some fake
chat logs with my name on them where I said how much I cared
about him and missed him."
Okay, Jennifer, gee whiz, I would not get mad about those OBVIOUSLY
FORGED chat logs. Why, that would be silly.
Unfortunately, "cum" does not appear again until July 18th.
J: "i want your cum
and i want you
and i want your dick
and damn it
damn i want you"
Q, in retrospect, sez: I was already in full-scale "How the
hell do I break up with her?" mode by this point, so this
message was just more or less funny.
Then, a while later, I broke up with her, citing that it was for
the best that we broke up before I moved to Urbana and we had to deal with
the "pain" of a long distance relationship. Ha ha ha. That is the only
time I have felt good about, or even really gone through with, lying to
a girl.
Then, here is the last message I sent her before making this text
file, putting her on ignore, and deleting her from my "contact list:"
Oh no. My goodness. I certainly will. Oh goodness, I am sorry
to have ever harassed you. Remind me again, who was the one who called
the other one 10 times a day while we were dating? Who was the one doing
the harassing? Oh yeah, you. And your boyfriend's webpage
(www.geocities.com/bleak_omen) tells anyone with a brain all they need to
know about him: scum.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
/<ingdom of Shit BBS
Post#: 48/50
Name: Zippy #447
Date: 1:10 am Mon Jan 02, 1995
Love with humans is the problem, muh boys. Humans are impossible to
deal with. They are tempermental and generally bitchy, especially the
female variety. Not to mention that you actually have to talk to them in
many circumstances, even the ones who can barely utter coherent syllables.
Well, 'Bah on Humans, ' I say. Actually, I would rather say,
"Baaa-aaaa-aaaaaaaa." You see, Young Confused Ones, you must find an
attractive animal of any sort. As long as it turns you on, my brothers,
I say that you should find the 'proper' type of beastie that will fulfil
every wanton craving you have ever had. And get this: as long as you barely
keep these new best friends alive, you have a partner whom you may shower
your affections in bizarre and EXCITINGLY NEW FOR '95! way that will
having you thanking God Above for all the critters in the fields.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Thu, 26 Oct 2000 16:29:44 GMT
From: haphazard@cringe.co.uk
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: FINAL HOE
Here's a submission. Ne'er done this before and therefore it
WILL suck. But I s'pose that's the point.
"I Have Standards" by JaneX
I Have Standards. I am a Non-Conformist. I am too Cool for Pop-Culture.
I wake up every morning in some Unmentionably-Big-City-on-the-East-Coast-
-of-America-which-is-Conspicuously-Covered-more-and-more-With-Advertising-
-but-shall-not-herein-be-Named and throw off my _Land's End_ Blanket only
to put together yet another one of my STYLISHLY SNAZZY _Old Navy_
Ensembles (19.95$ this week for a pair of their Special Boot Cut Chino
Ultra Deluxe Pant) and throw on my _Nike_ sneakers. As I lace them up, I
like to nibble on my _Post_ Raisin Bran, which is heartily flavored with
_Silk_ brand SoyMilk (Plain, not Vanilla or Chocolate). I use my _Gap_
messenger bag to help push myself past the throng of people standing
outside Hip Spots that I choose not to frequent because, well, you won't
believe this, but... I HAVE STANDARDS.
In the middle of the day, I might decide to go downstairs to the
_McDonald's_ next door and get a McVeggie Burger (You see this is what we
Non-Conformists call Activism). And later, I might decide I want to be
extra-posh and slip out of my _Nike's_ and into a nice pair of _Doc
Marten's_ which go better with my dogged vegetarianism anyhow. On my way
to a couple classes, I might read a copy of _Cosmopolitan_ or
_Mademoiselle_ and wonder to myself why anyone pays 3.95$ for an issue of
each when my subscription averages each copy out to only 3.74$! After
class, I might finally decide to take a shower in which I might scrub my
scalp with _Herbal Essences_ because I Believe in the Importance of using
products which are 99% natural. Why? BECAUSE I HAVE STANDARDS!!!
I live in a big city. I have no fashion sense! NO FASHION SENSE!
I wear clothes made in sweatshops, wear doc marten's though I'm a
vegetarian, and pretty much everything I consume in some way or another
has a price-tag and a name brand sewn onto it (including my last
boyfriend), yet I command you to understand that I DO HAVE STANDARDS!!!!
I have standards because everyday I am forced to pass at least one
of the six _Starbucks_ within the one block radius of my home and everyday
I am forced to shudder at least once thinking of the poor witless souls who
shamelessly believe that sipping an overpriced Latte that is about as
homebrewed as a BigMac is straight from the cow makes them a part of some
sort of Hip Underbelly of the Big City that sits around reading French
poetry and kissing their friends once on each cheek.
So what's the moral of the story? Nothing really. Except I HAVE
STANDARDS!! And you probably don't because you're probably sitting there
drinking a MOCHACCINO RIGHT NOW!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!!!!!
I am The Only Non-Conformist with Standards Left In the WHOLE
WIDE WORLD!!!!
MUAHAHAAHAHAHAAHHH!!!!!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
SOYBEAN FROWNS by Phairgirl
<jamesy> I am a character straight out of a teenage romantic comedy
<jamesy> I am the scruffy guy the girl will use to make her boyfriend mad,
but then fall in love with
<soybean> DUCKY
<jamesy> NO, NOT DUCKY.
<jamesy> SHUT THE FUCK UP.
<soybean> :(
<soybean> i am so tired of mosquitos
<soybean> :(
<mogel> i hate girls
<soybean> :(
<RottenZ> my tool itches
<soybean> :(
<jamesy> hey fuckers
<soybean> :(
<RottenZ> hi katie
<RottenZ> you never talk to me
<RottenZ> :( :( :(
<soybean> :(
<soybean> are you falling out of love with me, uberfizzgig?
<Uberfizz> of course not
<soybean> okay, cool
<oregano> boy katie has abandonmnet issues big time
<soybean> :(
<Uberfizz> you don't love me!
<Uberfizz> this has all been a SHAM!
<soybean> :(
<Jamesy> shut up
<Jamesy> just shut up now
<Jamesy> cars suck
<Jamesy> you suck
<Jamesy> die
<soybean> :(
<swissphil> you guys are all followers
<swissphil> FOLLOWERS I SAY
<soybean> :(
<Quarex> Katie? :(
<soybean> :(
<Quarex> :(
<jamesy> :(
<soybean> :(
<jamesy> :(
<alek> :)
<soybean> :(!
<alek> <{:)
<RottenZ> I might not be able to come visit you, Katie. :(
<soybean> why?
<RottenZ> There might be a TEKKEN tournament that day.
<soybean> :(
<jamesy> knock knock
<Uberfizz> who's there?
<jamesy> A FIST UP YOUR ASS
<soybean> :(
<soybean> we have six different HBOs
<soybean> what a nightmare
<AIDS> hahaha
<AIDS> You're a nightmare
<soybean> :(
<soybean> i have water in my ears
<drooplug> i can put something else in your ear if you'd like
<soybean> :(
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE RED SCHOOL BUS by aster
[21:34] <hardk0re> WRITE ABOUT ME ASTER
[21:34] <aster> WHAT ABOUT YOU?
[21:34] <hardk0re> I AM FUCKING INTERESTING
[21:35] <hardk0re> Write about me finding a g/f
[21:35] <hardk0re> and falling in love
[21:35] <hardk0re> and having a family
[21:35] <hardk0re> and me growing old
[21:36] <hardk0re> rest is up to you
[21:36] <hardk0re> your imagination
and so began a dynasty. people did stuff. people died.
[21:38] <hardk0re> Aids, mogel's thoughts
[21:39] <hardk0re> really didn't seem clear
[21:39] <aster> of course not, mogel sent me his brains in an envelope.
[21:39] <hardk0re> Give them back.
[21:39] <hardk0re> Share.
[21:40] <aster> NO!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
PENS by aster
I have three colors of pens, yellow, red, and blue but not in that
order at all. they say words on them but i cant read. i think my favorite
one is the red one, even though when you write with it it is rather light
and not bright. but the yellow is too bright and blinding and the blue is
too light-turquoise.
i also have a black one, and brown, and dark/bright orange and
light orange and light greena nd dark green and light blue and purple and
purple pink magenta.
they have hexagonal tops.
but the rest is round.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
HOME by Effy
The first thing I remembered was the chaotic organization, as if
they had predicted and had been fully expecting such an occurance as the
end of the world. There was a place for us on the moon, where we would
all be safe. As for the earth, it was finished, ready to blow up. We
packed what we could carry and piled onto a school bus. We drove down the
deserted city streets. The empty, dark, fast food drive though. Past the
movie theater with all its framed posters in front of the box office.
No families would see the new Disney movie. No couples would drown
pathetically in the latest gooey romance. No critics for the latest
Tarantino movie. And the popcorn was surely stale.
Nearby, a yellow and grey van drove in circles by the bank.
Nothing, not even Armageddon, would take them from their home. They
seemed indecisive though, as if they were torn between the pride to die
for the earth that created them as evolution willed and the desire to
prove the superiority of mankind by fleeing to another planet. I gave a
silent plea for them to save themselves, though I wondered why I even
cared. Perhaps it's looking at someone and knowing they are going to die.
Maybe it's because I thought if the bus would stop for one second, I could
say something to give them the desire to join us in our journey to our new
home. Instead, I helplessly gazed out at the van through the dusty bus
window and said a silent goodbye.
No spaceships for us; at least not that I recall. Buses waiting for
us at the moon as we transferred at the port. The sky was incredibly dark
with a reddish orange tint. We hung our heads out the windows of the bus
and cheered as the distant earth blew up before our eyes. At last the
anticipation was over.
The new world seemed to be a large building. My friends and I
wandered around, playing with the change in gravity. I wandered around
what seemed like a department store. With a startled glance upward, I
saw eight feet tall mutations of human beings standing above me and
chatting nonchalantly. They didn't notice me, but I was afraid of them.
They all had long, stringy black hair and piercing green eyes; they were
like large gothic aliens. I floated away as quietly as I could, and
joined my friends in a movie theater. Everyone stood up when the movie
began. More incredibly tall people stood in front of me, and I decided
to continue exploring and skip the movie.
I found myself in a room with various pianos and keyboards. Most
were being played elegantly by random talented musicians. I looked for
my own piano to play. Some were missing keys, others only had black ones
in the major key, no minor key reversed in white... some keys did not work
on some, and some merely had buttons to push that made different sound
effects that I could not begin to vary.
I floated along in discouraged confusion, and silently wished for
my home.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
SILVER AND GOLD by Oregano
When Julia and Farago were in the car and out in traffic, Farago
turned on the radio. "Counting Crowes, you like them, right?" Asked
Farago.
"I like some of their stuff, you know the song I like," Julia
replied, "otherwise I really don't care for them that much."
"The one song with 'One for silver, two for gold...'."
"Yes"
Farago listened to the song. "I think that part is coming up.
Here it comes."
Out of the radio came, "Are you happy where you're sleeping? Does
he keep you safe and warm?"
"Eww! No! This is not the song," said Julia, "Change the station,
this is one of their songs that I emphatically do NOT like."
Farago was negotiating traffic and it was about 15 seconds before he
could bring his concentration back to the radio and as he did, as his
fingers were about to press the next preset, out of the radio came, "One
for silver, two for gold..."
"Wait! This is it, Farago, don't change it, this is the one
I like."
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
MY PREVIOUS LIFE IN A PRINGLES CAN!
by _clyde_ <clyde@zork.net>
yawn! what a great day! even though i just woke up, i'm ready for a nap!
napping is what i do best! it's been a fun time ever since i got to
california! a nice peaceful nap on th...
(#!&#@%KJDSGKN%UDSG*SB&CX#**#@$##@#)
holy fuck! what was that! i've fallen! i hit my head! hello! what the
fuck is going on here! shit! god damn it! i'm cracked! i'm actually
cracked! fuuuuuuccckkkkk! i can't see anything! everything is blurry!
what the hell happened! why did i fall over! this sucks! my head is
cracked! owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! shit! i am so fucking pissed off!
what th...
(fwoosh)
wait! someone has saved me! that's terrific! ahh much better! it's so
nice up here, where i am! i have a terrific view of the popcorn! i smell
fresh salsa, too! uh oh, there's cheese dip down there, splattered
everywhere! how the hell did that happen! if that cheese thinks he's
going to crawl up here where i am, he's fucking wrong! he's so fucking
wrong!
well! now it's time to take another peaceful nap while i'm sti...
(snatch)
huh! what the fuck! you're choking me! please, oh please god let me
breathe! i'm fucking choking here, man! what the fuck are you doing to
me! shit put me the fuck down! god damn it! why are you torturing me!
i've done nothing wrong!
(plunk)
ahh! now this is nice! they're taking me for a ride in some sort of cage!
and hey! here's some of my friends! diet coke! italian sausage! mild
salsa! tortilla crisps! sour cream! chocolate chip cookies! and this
new guy pepcid!
well, gee guys! this is fun, isn't it! i love the feeling of the air
rushing past my head! i just wish the damn driver wouldn't keep stopping
so often! and...hey, what's this! who's the new guy! it's...it's...
it's...noooooooo! it's a freezing cold box of ice cream bars! brrrrr!
sir, can't you sit over there with the salsa! you're freezing me to death
here! aggghhhh! this is so terrible! achoo! achoo! achoo! ach...
(swish)
(thud)
well, so much for that! looks like i lost him! but the car ride is over!
oh well! maybe there will be another one soon! that was such fun! but i
wish they'd take me back to my home so i could have a nice peaceful nap
because i'm kinda sl...
(whisk)
(beep)
what the hell was that! something was just staring at my ass! i hate
that! grrr, where is it! i'll find you and kick your balls! you can't
play that shit with me, got it! i'll get revenge on you! i'll put you in
your pla...
(plop)
hey! it's dark! what the hell happened! and why am i freezing cold
again! achoo! achoo! achoo! achoo!
wait, i'm getting another ride! this is terrific! this is so great!
hey, i can't see anything but we're rolling along now! this is...wow!
much faster than before! wheeeee! fun! hey, what's your problem, guy!
shut up! you can't keep me down!
(click)
it's bright again! wait! i can see everything! there's that damned ice
cream! makes me so fucking cold! aha! but the ice cream just disappeared
behind a wall of ice! that's great! now i just need to find a place to
wander off and take a nice peaceful na...
(grab)
(slide)
(clunk)
aggghh! no! not here! what am i doing in here! it's so damned dark!
and i can't see anything, and i can't hear anything! there were voices!
where the fuck did those voices go! bring back the voices, oh please!
don't just leave me here! i'm scared of the dark! why are you treating
me like this!
this sucks so much! i can't believe this bullshit! why does my life have
to be so chaotic! i just get dragged around and plopped down at any old
random place! this is bullshit!
ok! i guess i lose this round! but i can at least get some sleep now!
ahh! this is a terrific place to sleep! nobody can stare at me in here!
(thud)
(grab)
aagghhhhh! would you fucking let go of me! i can't breathe! you're
cutting off my oxygen, man! what the hell! oh, you're not a man at all!
heh heh! do forgive me! and...oh! you're quite a lot of woman, too!
that's...um! heh! you're going to...hey! shit! you bitch! you fucking
bitch!
put my hat back on!
i said, put my hat back on!
put my fucking hat back on before i k...
(@#O%YEOJTHDKGDKJSDGJIO#*#@*#&@$&*!@@!%JDGJ)
aagggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain
pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain!
you just fucking cut me open! you split me open! i hate you, bitch! you
ripped off my hat, then you peeled back my fucking scalp! aagghhh! hello!
i'm dying over here! yes, me! you fucking...hey! you don't even give a
shit! you're just shoving your god damn face! i hate you! i fucking hate
you! what are you...hey! oh, so you're done with me, and you're putting
me back where i belong! that works for me, because i need a fucking nap!
it's been a really shitty life for me thus far, and i intend to remedy
this with a nice peaceful na...
no!
ajherwuhecnrejhbgouii! what the fuck did you do that for! get me out of
here! this place stinks! i can't deal with this! this fucking blows!
you fucking bitch! i want to injure you! i want to cause you harm! i'm
going to ruin your life! agghhh! what the hell is this piece of
half-eaten donut doing in here! god damn it! i'm getting all dirty!
hey!
it's dark in here now! what the fuck! i can't deal with this! this
sucks so bad! please! i can't breathe in here! let me out! let me the
fuck out!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
My THOUGHTS and FEELINGS on the DEAD OF HOE by Guy_SJS
WRITTEN ON JULY 31, 2000 7:51PM
I started out reading HOE about 6 months ago when I got a link from
some textfiles site. Since then I've been reading it religiously. I told
myself, "I need to write for them." The next day, I got the letter about
them closing. Now here's my final thoughts and whats going through
my head right now as I think of HOE.
Wait a second, I'm not allowed to think. The techno-babbleing
geektrons took my brain... Damn... Well, here's a hearty thanks to the
HOE crew, and a good luck to them in the future. Mogel, you made a wise
chost to end the legacy here rather than let it sink into a hole...
---------------
This Year: A Social Waste / The Things Not Said
A tribute to Karie, by Guy_SJS
This school year has been a total waste to me. I have spent most
of my time studying for classes and on the computer, thus shutting out all
forms of life except those people I have met online. Sad.
The one person I care about most is leaving for college in August.
It came as a shock to me when I heard the news. I can't imagine her going
off to college. Just isn't right. She knows how I feel about her, I know
she feels the same way. We never really acted on our actions--too little
too late. I am taking her out for lunch Saturday. I plan to tell her how
I feel then and who knows, maybe something will happen. Her college IS
only an hour away... if she ever gets this file, I want her to know I
love her. Karie, I dedicate this file to you.
Now, on to the others in my life. My mother. Wonderful woman. We
seldom argue and it is never really that bad anyways. She is quite good
with computers for her age (mid-50s). I was surprised she picked up so
quick. Then again, she IS smart. She had me. :-) Next up, Kate. We
worked together on a team for Science Olimpiad. She was smart, very smart.
Wish I had gotten to know her better. I guess I still have time for this
though. She will be around for awhile anyways. Good thing, she's nice to
have around. Always good for a cheer-up. Ben and Nick. Best guys on
earth. Very capable of getting something done. Good with computers.
Smart. They will be there for awhile at least. Next to Shauna. Average
girl, good looking, smart, dating a total prick (It's true!). She and I
were good friends when we were young. It filtered off.. I wish it hadn't.
I know she does now too. Too bad, her boyfriend is a prick and I won't
talk to her with him around. Sad. Oh well.
Now on to teachers. Who was cool, who is a prick. Mr. Kalada: No
comment. Mr. Zurlo: Great guy. Mrs. Napoli: Cool. Mr. Hutchins: Best
teacher! Woohoo! This man knew how to teach. And if you didn't
understand it, he would take the time and sit down and help you understand
it better. He deserves a good human award. Mr. Boje: cool teacher.
Mrs. Perricciny: Good. Mrs. Chambers: Up with Mr. Hutchins.
Mr. Carpino: LAME.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
NO FAT CHICKS by Kreid
Every morning, Adam Burnself ate a pop tart, and drank a coke and a
pint of motor oil on his way to school. If he got there early, he would
sleep until the first bell rang. The other kids in the 7th grade liked to
kick him in the gut, as he slept on the floor, and as they romped through
the halls before school started.
Adam had chemistry first period Monday through Friday, except
for Wednesday, when the class was dropped. Unlike the other kids in the
class, Adam tried to sit in a different seat every morning. Without fail,
Adam would strike up a conversation with whomever he sat next to.
"Hey." Adam was usually ignored until he violently asserted
himself. "HEY!" he would repeat, and punch the boy or girl whom he sat
next to.
Here is an example of the conversation that would typically follow:
"What do you want?!"
"Hey. I've been drinking a pint of motor oil every day."
"Uh... okay... why...?"
"It's called self-immoliation. At the end of the year, I'm going to
swallow a match and burst into flames."
"What? Why?"
"Because nobody loves me, and I have nothing to live for."
"Well, you've got a point there. Loser."
"You'll be sorry when I'm dead."
"No I won't!"
"Yes you will."
"No, I won't."
After Adam died, it was suggested that he had been crying for help,
and trying to reach out for a long time. The school psychologist even
claimed that Adam never really wanted to die. But unfortunately, everyone
else did want Adam to die. Some even prayed for it -- Adam's parents, for
example, prayed for his death countless times, ever since they accidentally
conceived him on spring break in Acapulco, 1985.
One afternoon, Sidney, the 7th grade's token punk, made a mockery
of Adam's cry for help. "Hey Burnself! I've been drinking half a bottle
of vodka every morning! It's called self-inebriation and at the end of the
day I'm gonna puke on your shoes!" Bystanders scoffed at both Sidney and
Adam. The 7th grade considered both of these outsiders pathetic.
In fact, Sidney was the only kid around whose death was prayed for
more often than Adam's. Sidney was kicked out of school in his freshman
year, and then he overdosed the next summer. Incidentally, he got laid
more before he was 16 than most of his classmates did in their entire
lives.
On the last day of school, Adam swallowed a match, but he didn't
burst into flames. Instead, he just burned his mouth and throat. The
class watched in disappointment as Adam failed in his first attempt at
suicide.
"That's okay, Adam," said the school psychologist. "90% of suicide
cases screw up on the first try."
"This is horrible!" wailed Adam. "All I want is for someone to love
me!" Wendy Dorklove watched with a tear in her eye; she had a crush on
Adam since the 6th grade.
"I love you, Adam!" screamed Wendy.
The crowd was silenced by this shocking display of emotion. There
was a long, silent pause.
"Uh," spoke Adam, "let me rephrase that. All I want is for someone
to love me -- and no fat chicks!"
The scene erupted with laughter. For the rest of the school year
(which was only a few hours), Adam was the funniest, and thereby most
popular kid in the 7th grade. At the end of the day, Wendy Dorklove went
home and ate herself to death.
Adam relished in his popularity. For once, he felt loved. He was
part of the 'in' crowd. His life was only beginning, he had a great future
ahead of him. Tragically, he killed himself with a bottle of bleach after
his mom sentenced him to clean the kitchen that summer, as punishment for
getting caught in the garage fucking future prom queen, Alice Mankiller.
Currently, Adam Burnself's grave holds the state record in Alabama
for being pissed on. His gravestone speaks a tale of a tragic, confused
life. It reads:
ADAM BURNSELF
BORN OCT 11 1986
DIED JULY 3 2000
A FUCK-UP FROM DAY 1
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
WHORES OF THE UKRAINE by AIDS
they asked me to write a fuckign story about the fuckign whroes out
of the ukraine so I foucking agreed here's the deal these bitches all are
the greatest fucking atrocity of their nation's awful civil war they'll
do anything for money having undergone the awful atrocity of systemd
national rape camps delivered to us by the communist the communists would
tkae them and rape them and they drqank a special exliir developed with
cosmonaut scietnsits who fucking figured out how to make sperm super
acidic and toxic once expsoed to the open air and so when the sperm goes
intt the ukriane girls mfucking repodurciton system it eets their god
damned ovaries and valves until they're nothing but ufcking empty fuckinc
ghslels incapalbe of spreading their god damned capitalism to a new fucking
generation of worhtless ukraines who love the all persvaisve guck the
assosciation of money with theri sex comes like this:
being raped by communists with acidic sperm they have become
insanely vcraven fro hard cash, these god damned capitalist imperalists
will do anything you ask them for money they piss in buckets and wash your
feet with the result they transubstantiate their own shit in black masses
they do wahtever the fuck is called for and they do it willingly with
ophalic grins on their god damned snaggled teeth because they love cash as
much as they love dick and now their inability to get pregnant from the
acid of the communist dick has made them very happy to fucking fly against
the world of std and rpeoductioon therapy and now all they do is fuck for
money they'll do anyhting they date ninteen thousand men at the same time
and call all of them henry even if they are willies or sams yes henry and
then they do whatever henry asks henry saysd urkaine whre put dock in ass
and the ukrainea whore pulls into pier and puts cock in ass and wriggles
around till her asshole is just as bloodied as her pussy was so many long
years ago un those fivicous rape campst he communists set up during the
civilwar to lobotomized and genitalize the ukrainea capitalists don't
forget what lenin wsaid or what brezhnev did in '68 don't forget don't
forgert don't fdorget MAy '68 they don't even care about workers and
students uprising they just want cash and they'll do waht you ask them to
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Sun, 17 Dec 2000 21:35:01 GMT
From: David Putin <david02840@intercosmos.com>
To: aids@hoe.nu
Subject: Im a R.I. guy, 29 seeking one woman, to travel with & have fun...
Heya,
im David from Rhode Island. Do you wanna hook up with a guy?
im 29, 5'11" brn/grn 200#lbs - GermanRussian-American; and i love
to smoke herb in Amsterdam. im a Social Engineering Analyst, and part time
investor.
im slightly antisocial, philosophical. im well travelled but poorly
read. i cant dance. ive done alot of crazy things like drive to Arizona
and back for no apparent reason, once i was arrested and my pc seized for
hacking - good thing my boss is the mayor, they let me go. i want only
female friends :) whatever was meant, or was NOT meant to be is what life
brings me,, and im looking and waiting. luck follows me, im clever and
resourceful. very protective. i dont know what else to type right now ~
Write Back! i get tons of email so if its ********100 words or
more, i will open the letter. i hope you understand. life is too short
for games either, so please write alot about you!
Holiday wishes,
David
BTW: I got your address on ICQ.com's whitepages
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Msg#73 Conf: Doorman's Party Place
From: The Doorman Date: Thu Jan 13 23:35:52 1994
To : All Type: Public
Subject: bbs
Well I know for a fact after I post this message it will get responses.
I think most of you are a bunch of no-life , alternative , freaks who just
couldn't fit in with normal people , so now you all live your lives and
say ohh yes.. we aren't freaks, we just don't want to conform to society.
Well this is what I say.. TOO bad.. Society is always going to push aside
outcasts and freaks like most of you.. if you can't learn to be socially
acceptable you aren't going to make it anywhere. You could be smarter,
quicker.. whatever.. but I bet you the person who is normal who society
accepts will get what you want.. and you will be left behind untill you
conform.. there is no way around it eveyone eventully conforms to
something. So learn to live with criticism against yourselves. It's not
like I hate any of you it's just that you are all stuck up in your little
bbs ways..and when someone fitting the norm comes about you attack.. and
try to scare them off.. well it might benifit a bunch of no-lifes modem
geeks to listen to others once in awhile even if it is against your
alternitive ways.
The Doorman --=> "Making Enemies is fun"
Area 'Doorman's Party Place' (#17)
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: 09-27-93 (17:01) Number: 20 of 30 (Refer# NONE)
To: ALL
From: ART/SPIRIT
Subj: yo...
Read: (N/A) Status: PUBLIC MESSAGE
Conf: Main Board (0) Read Type: GENERAL (A) (+)
heh.. tiz is my 2nd call on here .. not bad.. but fuck i commn from the
64.. eh.. oh well. much to learn.. l8er..
(192 min left), (H)elp, End of Message Command?
Date: 09-27-93 (17:08) Number: 21 of 30 (Refer# NONE)
To: RUNAWAY TRAIN
From: ART/SPIRIT
Subj: SYSOP COMMENT
Read: 09-27-93 (19:15) Status: RECEIVER ONLY
Conf: Main Board (0) Read Type: GENERAL (A) (+)
hy.. what a shit.. fuck i need a new modem.. heh coz i see u have dos 6
&shit.. i need a new dos version coz my old dos version has some shitty
bugs.. well.. if u allow me to leech my ass of the version. please told
me how much files the shit takes.. i hope i'll get a 9600 modem .. but
the time comes. & goes.. so i hope to catch u in chat mod.. heh
l8er.. Andreas.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE REAL WORLD, LIFE FULL OF IDIOTS by Kaotik
All my life I have spent alot of time pondering about everything,
the world and our strange minds. What makes us tick? If we look back at
what has been happening in our personal lives lately it will all look
strange. I stopped in at Macs (corner store) the other day to buy a
slushy cause all I had was 75cents. As I get out of my car I noticed a
few kids from the elementary school across the road approching me,
"Excuse me sir, can you buy us smokes?". Most people would say no,
seeing that these kids were about 8 years old, but me being a corrupt
individual, I figured oh well, I might as well spoil the next generation,
maybe they'll all die before they become 20 or something. I went into the
store, bought the smokes and behold, the guy in the store is telling me
that the price of the slushy is 1.50$! When I was a kid they were 25
cents. Who the hell pays 1.50$ for ice and flavor. So I just left gave
the kid his smokes and went home. Sometimes also when i drive by these
schools and I see all the innocent kids playing during recess, My mind
kinda wonders off. They are having all sorts of fun now, but the sad
part is that they don't realize how fucked up the world is till they get
older. I kinda feel sorry for them in a way.
The next day my car stops working. I figured it was the tranny and
took it to a place called "AAMCO" a transmission specialist or so they say!
The stupid assholes charged me 150$ to take apart my tranny to tell me what
I told them, it was broken. To add insult to injury they wanted 1100$ to
fix it, they guy said the parts were about 850$, when I called Honda, they
said the parts would be 325$. Obviously these idiots at "AAMCO" were
trying to rip me off. I told them to fuck off and gimmie my car back,
they put my tranny in the trunk and I got it towed to another shop and it
should be ready in a few days. The moral of this bit is, don't take your
car to AAMCO unless you have too much money you don't know what to do with.
Toronto, the big city of dreams. The Canadian version of New York,
better roads, cleaner, less dead people, just a nice place to be, ok, well
kind of. Toronto is getting stranger and stranger. The Provice of
Ontario in which Toronto is located in, is now topless! You can go around
topless (women of course) on beaches and rollerblading and shit without
getting busted. Good idea, in a way. Who wants to see old chicks and fat
chicks walking around topless. I think that fat and ugly chicks should
have to get a permit for leaving the house. Another thing is that the
people whose jobs are to provide us with education want to strike over a
really stupid restructure of the Ontario Education System. Bill 160 will
have students be at school longer, start earlier and will have almost no
summer. I don't care cause I am not in school, but still kids will just
rebel and start dropping out and there will be more whinos downtown asking
for change.
My parents often wondered about the people that I hang out with and
now I can see why. This guy Steve we know, got kicked the fuck outta his
house a while back and was staying with Pimpdaddy Leroy, our local pimp
hero for a while. Steve wanted Leroy to cut his hair and knowing Leroy,
you wouldn't want him near you with a shaver but nope, Steve didn't think
first. To get to the point, Steve ended up walking around town with his
girlfriends initials in big ol' letters shaved into his fucking head. We
laughed, they laughed, everybody laughed. We tried to get a picture to
attach to the mag but after a week or so he ended up shaving it. doh!
Before I decide to end this, just a few things that I often
wonder. Why does everyone want to become a refugee and move to Canada?
We have enough fucking taxis, who needs 7-11 anymore, does it suprise me
that I have to pay taxes to pay welfare for all these wack-offs that can't
speak english but like wearing my curtains and getting free money? We
don't care if you get killed here either, go home. Also why do those
women liberation broads always want to be equal? I never see them sitting
at home watching the football game and talking about getting laid. Women
liberation is one big fucking joke, we have the penis, we rock, you can't
drive, give it up.
Well anywayz, there is some shit off my mind. Hope it was good
for you aswell.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
PRESENTING NYBAR'S SISTER
Date: Thu, 20 Jul 2000 14:02:49 EDT
From: AnGeLdUsT995@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: Story for HOE
"Julz and Her Constant Rambling"
Earlier today, I strolled into a nearby Toys 'r' Us, to find a
rather funny display. It was a big sign that said "Get Your Hand on a
Hot Flash Barbie TODAY" Then below were the details...brace yourselves;
Press Barbie's bellybutton and watch her face turn beet red while tiny
drops of perspiration magicallyappear on her forehead. Comes with
hand-held fan and tiny tissues.
And then, don't forget "Facial Hair Barbie"; As Barbie's hormone
levels shift, watch her whiskers grow! Availble with teensy tweezers and
magnifying mirror). Also, my personal favorite out of all of them,
"Recovery Barbie". Too many Discos and what not have finally caught up
with the ultimate party girl. Now she does Twelve Steps instead of dance
steps. All cleaned up and ober, she's going to meetings religiously.
Comes with a little copy of The Big Book and a six-pack of Diet Coke.
Just before I was about to leave the store...in a fit of...i don't
know quite what...I see "Blow-Job Barbie". I think I should stop before I
blow some chunks....no, I'll control it...she comes with a hand held dildo,
and her mouth is in the shape of an "o" for convient sucking. She has the
ability to spit or swallow---your decision. Watch out girls, if you're not
careful, imitating Barbie may end up in a trip to the ol' stomach pumper.
And that's all i have to say folks........goodnight!!!!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE RETURN OF SATAN's CHILD by Effy
Author's Note: To experience the full intensity of this sequel, I
suggest you first read the prequel, which can be found in HOE #598.
!_Part One_!
Well, what happened with Tim seemed to put an end to Sara's insane
rampage of men for awhile...but when she was released from the mental
institution, it was only a treacherous beginning for her.
You may be wondering why she was released. She was after all,
_insane_, and talked only in devil tongue. Well, I was part of the reason
she got out so easily. I helped make her speak English again, and start
to act like her old, normal, self. I always sensed though that the demons
in her were not truly silent. God, was I was right about that too.
It wasn't easy to get Sara to act even half way human again. In
fact, it took months of stressful visits that took up all of my free time.
In fact, Sara and I both worked so damn hard that when she finally got
out of that padded room, we hadn't shaved our legs in three months or
done our laundry, and Sara just stunk to high heaven because she wouldn't
bathe; she'd just sit there practicing her English. Her white room had
turned a strange yellow-greenish color. I honestly suspect that the
doctors let her go because she just left such a mess and smelled too damn
bad...
Anyway, when I got Sara back home, the first thing I did was send
her straight upstairs to take a bath. As I sat downstairs waiting for
her, I thought it would be a good idea for us to get out of the house and
have some fun; I mean we hadn't had any in months, like since we abducted
Tim (who at this time was across the street locked up in his room mumbling
strange things about Fang, the dog in Sara's yard).
Sara yelled for me to come upstairs suddenly. I ran upstairs,
seeing her brushing her hair in the bathroom. One glance into the bathtub
was enough to make me wanna puke. I'd never seen so much leg hair
before...
Anyway, that is irrelevant to the material of the story. "Sara," I
began, "don't you think we should go do something, you know, have a little
fun?"
Sara looked at me and raised her thin, arching eyebrow. It looked
like a scraggly, thin cat arching it's crooked, oily back. "What do you
wanna do?" she asked, tossing out a dozen hair-filled razors.
"Well," I began, "there's a basketball game tonight that we could
go to. It's at least something to do..."
To my surprise, Sara looked delighted. It was decided. We would
go to the game.
!_Part Two_!
When we arrived at the school, the game was already half way into
the first quarter. We talked to a few friends (who were astonished at
Sara's presence), and headed into the gym to find a place to sit.
It wasn't long before I noticed Sara eyeing someone. All I could
think to myself was "Who?" and "Oh no."
Finally, curiosity got the better of me. "Who the hell are you
staring at?" I asked her. She was looking at a big group of 8th graders
and a few freshmen.
"What a cutie," Sara murmured to herself, her hands gnarling into
small fists and her face filling with blushing delight. Her blue eyes
grew large and lit up like two blue Christmas bulbs that had short
circuited and were blazing on fire.
"Where?" I asked, wanting to know who the poor guy was.
"There," she rasped, pointing a long, skinny finger at someone.
"Him?!?!" I asked, looking at the short, scrawny, greasy-haired,
blonde kid with glasses. "Charlie?"
"That's his name?" Sara said, grinning evilly. "How CUTE."
I _tried_ to see things from her point of view, I honestly did.
But I didn't see the cuteness in the grease ball on top of his neck, the
big glasses perched on his skinny nose, the scrawny body, and the thin
legs that looked like they belonged to a chicken.
That look in her eyes was no stranger to me. It was the same look
she had when she was in love with Tim, but it was before she planned to
desecrate Tim. Poor Charlie, I thought. He was in for deep fruity cacka
if he did anything wrong or even got involved with her.
At this time, Jill, an eighth grader that was the sister of one of
Sara's ex-boyfriends, Jared (who the cops thought the charred remains in
Sara's basement belonged to) came and sat by us. She wasn't angry with
Sara for possibly killing her brother. In fact, no one was. Everyone was
overjoyed.
Anyway, she glanced in the direction Sara was gaping at. "Do you
want Charlie?" she asked in surprise. She looked at the freshmen chicken
and then back at Sara.
Sara didn't answer. She was just staring in awe at the bony piece
of white meat sitting on the bleachers across the gym. I answered for her.
"Yeah," I said, secretly pitying poor Charlie.
Jill looked amused. "Let's go talk to him," she said, grabbing our
hands and pulling us in the direction of the group. I followed
reluctantly. Sara was all flushed with excitement as she fluffed her hair
and straightened her shirt and picked her wedgie.
Jill introduced Sara and Charlie. It was all she needed to do.
Sara flirted madly like a crazy lil' woman, and Charlie took the bait like
a hungry little fish.
Three days later, they were going out.
That's where the hell began.
!_Part Three_!
Now when Sara gets a new boyfriend, she goes through phases. First
is the gushing part about how cute he is, and how much she is in love with
him, how they were meant for each other...that phase lasts about seven to
ten days. I put up with that OK. It kept her in a just peachy (not
fruity, mind you) mood, even though all the talk about the skinny little
chicken Charlie got kind of annoying and I found myself avoiding the house
whenever we had chicken for supper.
A couple weeks after they started going out, Sara began to complain.
It all started when I was at her house Wednesday night and she was gabbing
on the phone with Charlie.
"Do you love me?" she asked him, twirling the phone cord around her
finger, like talons gripping prey. Her eyes were wide and staring at the
floor as she tapped the ashes off her cigarette. She'd started the habit
again after she got out of the mental institution.
A machine gun giggle came rattling out of the phone. Sara's eyes
narrowed and she breathed into the phone. The giggle came again. I hoped
that Charlie never joined the army and got stuck in combat because his
troop would all dive for cover if he began laughing in the middle of
battle, and their side would lose on the attack. Maybe if he showed up at
a recruiter's office, they'd kick him out the door the minute they heard
him laugh and the United States wouldn't have to worry about losing a
major war.
Sara looked a little less peachy; the fruit was drying out of her.
She gripped the phone tighter and her bony knuckles turned white. "Well?"
she rasped. "Are you going to answer me?"
There came silence from the phone. Perhaps Charlie was thinking.
Or laughing in his head. Who knows?
Sara was losing her patience. I couldn't hear anything else from
Charlie's end of the phone after that, but apparently it was a lot of
machine gun giggles and somewhat Tim-like talking, because Charlie really
didn't say a lot. Only Charlie made more noises and grunts than Tim, who
just used several repetitive phrases.
When the conversation was over, Sara hung up the phone in
frustration. "What a dumbass." She shook her head back and forth, her
hair shagging out to the sides and a frown on her face and her eyes
closed. A sinister grin slowly crept up her mouth though. I knew that
grin. I hoped Charlie started talking, _fast_
!_Part Four_!
A week and two days later, on that Friday, Sara had a few friends
over. It was her, Charlie, Kenny, and me. We all hung out in her room
upstairs and listened to music while the guys made idiots of themselves,
and Sara and I watched them in amusement. That went on for the rest of
the night.
The next morning, while Charlie was still asleep, Sara and Kenny
stole Charlie's clothes except for his boxers.
We were all giggling madly when Charlie poked his disheveled,
greasy head out of the blankets on the floor. His sleepy eyes contained
little intelligence. Suddenly he realized he was almost naked and his
eyes grew wide.
"Where's my clothes?" he grunted, covering himself and his Green Bay
Packers boxers better.
We just smiled. "I don't know," Kenny said.
"Me neither," I said.
"I have no idea," Sara added, smiling innocently.
Charlie wanted to look for his clothes. He began sliding across
the wooden floor, slipping and sliding his way wrapped up in his blanket,
slithering in an invisible trail of mucus.
"He looks like a slug," Kenny commented, and Sara, him, and I burst
into laughter madly.
"Slug," Sara said. "It's your new nickname." She grinned hugely.
Poor Slug. Later on his nickname would contribute to his fate.
!_Part Five_!
Slug was starved for ciggies. It seemed that all he wanted to do
was smoke when he was around Sara. He was like a chimney. If he had been
big, he would've had to watch out for Santa Claus come Christmas time
because Santa da man could see that chimney all the way from the North
Pole smoking up a storm. I never understood how they said Santa could go
down chimneys in December. Wouldn't there be a fire burning in them?
Santa would be smokin' up man, and I don't mean a joint. That could be a
new worldly source of energy. Burn Santa's fat. Anyway, I am so off the
subject that I'm going to have to forfeit Christmas to get back into the
story.
Anyway, Slug's constant asking for cigarettes began to grate on
Sara's touchy nerves. In fact, touchy isn't the word for her nerves. You
upset her nerves and she becomes Satan's little girl. I mean, we already
heard about Tim. Who's to say it couldn't happen again?
Sara and I were sitting in her room. Slug had just left, satisfied
with his cigarette.
Sara looked like her thoughts were further away than the North Pole.
"Hand me my cigarettes," she behest.
I picked up the pack of Marbs and tossed em to her. "Here," I
said. I got a strange sense of deja vu.
"My lighter too," she said, not touching the pack yet.
"Here," I said, giving her the lighter. The feeling grew stronger,
like Santa getting fatter as he eats his Christmas feast. I began to have
a sense of unreality. I was like a broken Christmas record. I knew what
had happened last time that I had kept saying "here" to her...she went off
her rocker minutes later.
Sara looked at the ceiling absently and fingered around her for her
pack of ciggies. She found them and tried to empty one into her hand.
Nothing came out. She shook the box. Nothing came out. She shook it
harder and finally madly, up and down, up and down, till the pack was a
reddish-white blur. I looked at her in alarm, but she didn't even know I
was in the room. Her eyes were huge and looming; they reminded me of Icy
Hot. Cool blue smoldering flames.
"That fuckhead," she said, crumpling the pack in her fist tightly.
"He took my last smoke." Her knuckles were white.
"Oh come on, it's not that big of a deal..." I began.
"Yes it is!" Sara screamed, throwing the pack at me. I dodged it
and stared at her until I thought my eyes were going to pop out so she
could gleefully squish them between her gnarled fingers.
Sara carried on, her face becoming a pasty white with red splotches
on her cheeks. "He just steals my cigarettes, he hardly ever talks, he
never says he loves me, and that LAUGH, oh my fuck, it's SO annoying...it
sounds like a machine gun...eh eh eh eh eh eh eh..." she said, doing a
perfect imitation of Slug's giggle. Her eyes grew wider until she looked
like a bug, the eyes consuming the whole face, but yet a thousand eyes.
Sara was like a big pile of eyes...it's all I could see. Everything else
seemed to disappear and all I could see were two huge, blue eyes that
seemed to grow redder and redder...soon they were red, and just like when
she had gone off about Tim.
I shrunk back towards the wall in fear. I didn't want to become
her victim before Slug did...
Sara stood up slowly. She stood over me, seemed to tower...she
spoke to me then...her voice was quiet and a bit raspy. "Slug has picked
the wrong person to fuck with," she began, in a strangely serene voice.
She absently toyed with her lighter. "He needs to learn a lesson."
"Wh-wh-what kind of lesson?" I stuttered, shivering.
Sara ignored me. "You helped me last time," she said, grinning
madly. "You helped me with Tim!" She looked at the wall as if she could
see through it to Tim's house, where he surely was up in his room, rocking
back and forth insanely, still clasping Fang's fur, which by this time
would be turning gray with age.
Sara went on. "You are going to help me again. Slug is going to
PAYYYYY..."
I had to listen to her. It was the end for me if I didn't. I
slowly nodded.
She grinned even bigger, her teeth becoming huge and luminous, all
I could see were those two huge eyes and a gargantuous grinning mouth full
of teeth, an insane combination Satan had prepared for her...oh my god,
I thought, Satan's child is back.
!_Part Six_!
Yes indeed, Satan's Child was back, and she was worse than ever.
She was back to desecrate Slug of all people for not talking to her, using
her, you name it...Sara spent most of her time before we carried out the
new plan at home, smoking pack after pack of Marlboros, and giggling madly
at her master plan to bring Slug down. Whenever I went over to her house,
she just sat Indian style with a cigarette in her shaky hand, a big toothy
grin on her face, and her eyes wide and unblinking. Every now and then
little giggles escaped from her pulsating lips. She didn't say much to me
except what I had to do and what would happen to me if I didn't do it,
but I won't go into that for the sake of your stomach.
After Satan repossesed his daughter's body (Sara's body), Sara and I
planned to carry out our plan a week later. I was to report to her house
a couple hours ahead of time so we could call Charlie and get him to come
over.
When I arrived, I didn't find Sara in her room surprisingly. I
looked around and finally found her in the backyard, picking weeds.
"What are you doing?" I asked her, as casually as I could sound.
Sara looked up at me, her brown hair disheveled and greasy, her
teeth peering out of her little grin, her blue eyes evil and empty. She
let out a low growl. "Cumma poot dah mokita Creeping Charlie!" she said
happily.
"Oh, you're picking Creeping Charlie plants," I said, smiling.
Like I said at the beginning of the story, I could understand her devil
tongue, which she had begun talking in again. I noted that the dress she
was wearing was weaved out of Creeping Charlie. I could see little slugs
plopping off of the dress, and as they did, Sara crushed them beneath her
bare heel with a satisfied "plop" and an evil laugh.
"What do we need them for?" I asked, not wishing to converse
in devil tongue.
This time Sara spoke in English. "Tie up Slug." She grinned
hideously, her teeth like candy corn again, only some were missing from
her banging her head repeatedly against the wall.
"Don't we have rope for that?" I inquired, holding out the
length of rope.
"Bung monny toophoo cocka venovelim! Zoowingtowa!" she rasped,
her tongue slipping in and out of her mouth as she lisped the words out
like a snake. She meant that it was more concurring with the plan to use
Creeping Charlie to tie up Slug.
Sara looked away, absorbed in her thoughts. She picked slugs
absently off the Creeping Charlie plants and popped them into her mouth
and chewed slowly. She offered me the plant delightfully, but I resisted.
As evil as I could be sane, I still couldn't bring myself to eat slugs.
Sara dropped some more slugs onto the pavement and crushed them
and smashed them all over the concrete. She got down on her hands and
knees and began licking them up with her forked tongue. Her eyes gleamed
delightfully. I noticed a neighbor staring at her from his window next
door. His face was stark white. Sara slowly turned her head to stare at
the man, slugs dripping from her lips. The man stared back in raw terror.
Sara opened her mouth and screamed directly at the man, and he fled from
the window screaming bloody murder. Sara began to laugh insanely. "Plop
plop plop," as slugs dripped from her mouth. I'd never seen so many slugs
before at one time. Perhaps it was some workings of the devil.
When Sara was satisfied with her dinner, she grabbed the
Creeping Charlie plants she had picked and put them by the shed. Fang
sniffed at them curiously, and then the little white dog, barely bigger
than a rat, growled and barked at Sara. She had purposely not fed him in
days. Fang began to gnaw on the slugs on the Creeping Charlie.
We went inside to call Slug. Sara picked up the phone and
dialed the number, and I could tell when he answered because her eyes
darkened mercilessly and a devilish little smile spread on her face like
Move Over Butter on toast.
"Charlie," she said in a smooth, yet raspy voice, "what are you
doing tonight?"
Mumbles came out of the phone and a machine gun giggle or two.
"Well ask her," Sara growled, saliva dripping onto the carpet. I
removed my socks; I didn't want to get them soaked, as the puddle of drool
inched closer. I jumped onto the couch to avoid it.
Sara appeared to be waiting for a response. Then she spoke
seductively. "I'll give you a cigarette or two," she whispered, like she
was promising to lay him or something. Slug probably would've preferred
the cigarettes anyway though.
Suddenly her face filled with delight. "Ok," she said, almost
sounding normal. "Bye honey," she said, hanging up the phone. She slowly
turned toward me. A feeling of deja vu came over me, which was not an
unfamiliar feeling I'd been having lately.
"Let's get this show on the road," she said lightly, lighting
pieces of her hair on fire. She growled in delight as her hair sizzled
between her fingers. I felt as I had felt a long time before, when Tim
came a'knocking at the door...
!_Part Seven_!
Slug sat happily on the couch, pufffing on his cigarette and
gazing off into space with a "duh" expression on his face. Sara gazed at
him as though he were all that existed in the world.
"Do you like my dress?" she asked him, twisting a strand of
Creeping Charlie around her long, skinny finger.
Slug looked at Sara's dress. He didn't say anything at first,
but then a slight machine-gun giggle escaped from his mouth. He mumbled
something unintelligible.
Sara's eyes narrowed in anger and despise. "You don't like it,"
she growled. "Zoowingtowa!" she rasped.
Slug's sleepy eyes widened at her rasping devil voice, but he
continued not to say anything. Another rattling giggle slipped out of his
mouth, like a slug out of the ground.
A low growl came from the bottom of Sara's throat. I could see
her fists gnarling into tight, white balls, like two cabbages sitting in
her lap on the ends of her wrists. Her face became a firey red, and her
blue eyes began to turn purple, then maroon. I looked at her in warning.
She looked back at me as though I were made of glass, and then seemed to
control her anger, and relaxed.
"Would you like another cigarette?" she asked Slug.
Slug's face lit up like a candle. And if he was a candle, his
brain must've melted a long time ago and all that was there was the tiny
wick, his brain stem. No intelligence. Just the stem, enough to get by.
No wonder he liked smoking so much. He needed fire to light the wick, the
brain stem, the source of his entire being.
"Uh huh," he said, holding out his hand eagerly.
"Come outside and I'll give it to you," she urged, taking Slug's
tiny hand gently. I wondered if what they said about hand size was true
because if it was, Sara would have to be careful not to snap that thing
off if she nudged it. And I know more than nudging would become of it...
Slug looked confused. "Why outside?" he asked.
Sara smiled, her candy corn teeth popping out at him like two
rows of tombstones yellowed with age. "Just because," she whispered. Her
voice seemed to be a million miles away. She got up and pulled Slug behind
her out the door. I followed, my hands in my pockets, and whistled
cheerfully.
Once outside, Sara guided us down the walk towards the shed
where Fang was kept. Slug's giggles rattled at the small, white, ratty
dog. I deftly reached for the pile of Creeping Charlie, still dripping
with slugs.
Sara gave Slug his cigarette, lit it for him, and backed away a
few feet. Slug puffed away happily, his eyes closed.
Sara looked at me.
I grabbed Slug's wrists and began to bind them behind his back.
Sara grabbed his ankles and did the same. Slug dropped his cigarette and
struggled, but soon we had him on the ground tied up. He tried to reach
for his cigarette on the sidewalk a few feet away; I couldn't believe it!
But soon he began to scream. Sara silenced him when she stuffed some
Creeping Charlie plants in his mouth, the weeds full of slugs. She also
stuffed a shitload of the weeds down the front of his jeans. He gagged and
moaned but was no match for us. We dumped him in the shed, locked Fang in
there with him, and we were overcome with glory at having brought for the
second time, someone's demise due to Fang. Fang's hungry drool seeped out
from underneath the door.
!_Part Eight_!
Yes indeed, it seems that we had done something quite as well as
we had done it before, with slight alterations in the plan. Needless to
say, Fang had a small feast...he began gnawing at the slugs down Slug's
pants and bit something off that he probably shouldn't have...well, that
little piece of meat didn't satisfy Fang, so he began to work on various
parts of Slug's body, which included his nose, ears, and mouth. Poor Slug,
he was incredibly deformed.
But what happened to everyone? Well, Fang broke out of the shed a
couple days later and dragged poor Slug down to Riverside Park and
continued to gnaw at him, where the cops found him and Fang that night.
They didn't know what had really happened to Slug, but Fang was sentenced
to death and was given a lethal injection for distemperment. Poor Fang.
That was the end of his adventures with Sara and me.
And Slug? Well, he was taken to the hospital and stayed there
for a couple weeks, recovering from shock and nic fits. He was given
plastic surgery big time and now looks really fucked up. Unfortunately,
they weren't able to replace his missing "organ," because they didn't
exactly have a donor, and they didn't want to attach one molded of plastic.
Poor Slug now resides in Boscobel's psych ward, but he should be getting
out soon. He gets to go visit friends every now and then, but runs
screaming whenever they offer him a cigarette. If anything, Sara and I
helped him kick that habit.
And what happened to Sara? She is living happily at home, her
anger replaced with giddy happiness. The demons have not left her, but
no one has pissed her off yet. She still talks in devil tongue and hears
strange voices, but it seems to be fading a little. We go out and do
things and have fun, and she now has a new boyfriend named Mike; he's from
Boscobel. She seems to be crazy about him...for now. I thought if Mike
knew what he could be getting into. You can never be too careful after
all, especially when you're dealing with THE DEVIL.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Mon, 4 Sep 2000 12:25:23 +1200
From: "Andrew Calder" <viggen@zfree.co.nz>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: Fun ways to make some money
About a two months ago I needed a lot of money but didn't want to
work for it... so I sat down and thought about easy ways to get it. Here
are some of the least boring ways I came up with. Some if this stuff is
illegal, I'm not encouraging it, etc, so if you try it and get caught,
don't blame me.
1. Steal stuff
Pretty obvious really, but it depends on what you steal and how you steal
it. Wait til around 2 in the morning, go into a gas station (preferably
not one you usually go to) when they are selling pokemon cards, wait until
the sole attendant is distracted, grab the boxes of cards they have on the
counter and get the fuck out of there. Pull some shelving over as you
are making your exit so the attendant will be distracted. Sell the card
packs to little kids later on.
2. Steal more stuff
Look round the place for empty houses, break into them, steal any stuff
(furniture, washing machines, TVs etc) you find and sell it. Relatively
low risk as long as you can break windows quietly. Use glass cutters or
do it during a storm.
3. Sell fake drugs
Go to teenage raves with heaps of caffeine pills and sell them as speed or
ecstasy to 14 year olds. Good profit and probably not illegal. By the
time they work out your scam you're probably long gone, and if they do
what the fuck are they gonna do about it? You could also sell dried lawn
clippings as marijuana but most kids that age just aren't
stupid/inexperienced enough to fall for it.
Of these three methods, the last is by far the easiest and carries the
lowest risk. Its certainly the most profitable ;)
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
GANGSTA STORY by Big Daddy Bill
The breeze seemed cautious in Dubuque that day. It whistled calmly
through Scott's hair, as he lay motionless on the barron cement playground
that children had played a competitive game of basketball on only hours
before. The ant population could care less, and they crawled anonymously
over Scott's blood-streaked face, a line of the black warriors forming
over the gaping hole that was put in his skull only moments ago. Yes,
Scott was dead, very dead. And the bastard deserved it.
Scott was meandering down the street, looking for trouble, as all
little shits named Scott will do at one point or another, when he
discovered a group of milato, latino, and caucasion teenage boys playing a
hard game of b-ball in the Audubon School parking lot. Scott said to
himself "straight pimpin'" and started to venture towards the teens.
Scott threw up the 'dub as he approached, double checking to make
sure his NYC black ball cap was cocked 30' degrees to the right. One of the
latino boys took a glance at Scott, then another glance, before tapping his
friends arm at the obese, be-bopping whiteboy limping towards them. "Que to
infierno..?" the young mexican pondered, starring in disbelief.
"Ay yo trip, I be bout it up in this real, got a bill ona count I
can broady all ya'll mothafuckaz" Scott spouted out arrogantly, flashing
some greenback he had stuffed in his front jean pocket. Scott slid his
hands down to his balls and gave them a squeeze, snorting some air in
through his nose like he just got done doing a line.
The shirtless, obviously very fit milato's mouth fell open at the
fat man's lingo, and all six of the men followed suit. "Yo, I saw ya'll
cold hoopin' it, so cut a nigga some cheese." Scott finished, once again
'dubbin' the six teens.
The spanish teen spoke first, "'cuz, that ducat ain't biz in D-town,
shit-talkin' get yo cap peeled." And with that spoken word, Scott heard to
his left the *shik-shak* of a nine being prepped. Scott knew he was out of
his league, and wished to god that he could geese the fuck outta there.
"Spread those ends, dun." the bulky milato spoke up, as his homeboy
approached from the sidelines, gat in hand and cocked for action. Suddenly,
the milato's face got very serious. "Busta's that fake jack's get laid on
they backs." he ended the conversation with that, snatching the wad of
bills that Scott extended towards him, almost as if in peace.
"This playa be G'd up, gaffled in this game now ain't cha." the
caucasion spoke stupidly, misinterpreting some of the things the more
fortunate had to say. The milato simply turned, and laid the back of his
hand against the little bitch's dome.
"Shut the fuck up, cracka." the milato angrily retorted, and turned
in time just to see fat man Scott make a dash for the farside.
"We was highside, 'cuz, now that cracka made a dash for the
mothafucka Five-O!" the mexican spat out, snagging the piece that the
black man held idely in his hand.
Coldly but smoothly, the latino gangster took careful aim and
squeezed a shot off, then a second one, before turning and scattering
away with the other hardcore teens like roaches do when you turn the
lights on in an black man's apartment in the ghetto.
Scott never got the chance to alert the police, nor did he ever
get the chance to breath again, reproduce, eat vegetables, drink beer, or
masterbate.
Moral of the story: A nicker newjack can boost phat up in D-town,
but that O.P.P shit'll get that oowop ratatatating 'fo a nigga can
represent n roll up in a saggin duece, stackin that double nine-nine, an'
snack up some scrilla.
One.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
PRINCE NAMOR IN THE LAND OF LaLaLa by The BMC
The people of the Grand Duchy of Atlantis thought Namor had fled the
city of night, but they were wrong. He was kidnapped by the Mind
Creatures. "Where are you taking me?" said a confused Namor as they
hoisted him upon their dozens of little pink shoulders. They just giggled
in response. Namor realized the futility of attempting escape, shrugged
his shoulders, and let himself fall asleep as he was carried into another
world.
When he woke up he saw a sign that said, "Welcome to the Land of
LaLaLa, pop. 0." Population zero? Well then who was it that brought him
here? He didn't know. They were gone and he was laying on a cloud with
a golden cape covering his naked paralyzed body. Namor quaffed a potion
that allowed him to be free from his paralysis, stood up, folded the cape,
and put it in his pocket. "This will be worth a pretty penny at the Great
Sea Bazaar," he believed to himself. He didn't need money, though. He
was the King of Atlantis, or so he said.
That was the last thing he remembered. Proteus launched a siege
attack on Atlantis, Namor was declared King by the dying Poseidon, and
then a bunch of little furry red guys carried him away. "What does it all
mean?" thought Namor as he kicked his feet up on the desk. He didn't know.
He didn't even know where to start.
Namor continued to walk until he found a babbling brook. He looked
down at and said, "So, brook, what is it that you do for a living?" The
brook said nothing, because it was inanimate. For some reason, this made
Namor even more furious and he began kicking and punching the water until
all his hands were wet and sore. It was actually just one kick and one
punch, but Namor was not really all that strong. To his satisfaction he
had defeated the babbling brook, and now onward he went to the mysterious
destination that he had been questing for since a week earlier.
He walked through a large red archway made of gelatin, and on the
other side was a grassy meadow. Namor ran out into the middle of the field
and gazed around at all of the tall trees made of oak and maple. "I've
never been in a coniferous forest before," thought Namor, and he was right.
When he got out of the brook he went onward through a large archway that
was made of red gelatin.
"Oh my sweet gelatinous cube," dreamed Namor, "I remember the
tender love you gave me on our first date." Now it was time for Namor to
choose the path that would guide his direction for the rest of his life.
One of them would lead to certain death, and the other would lead to
uncertain death. Namor noted this and decided to stay still and follow
neither path in hopes of avoiding death altogether. It didn't work,
though. All of a sudden the music sped up and a message popped up on the
screen that said "Hurry Up!"
Oh so this was how it was going to be, was it? Was all of life just
a game? If so, Namor wanted to make sure he had lots of quarters so he
could continue over and over again. He thought about the silver cape in
his jacket pocket and thought, "I'm going to trade this in for ALLLLLLLLL
quarters!
He didn't actually get all quarters with it though. he got some
bubble gum and a ceramic parachuting clown and some stick-on tattoos. He
did keep three or four quarters, though. He figured he would just get more
change when life was about to end. This is just like how people expect to
change into a better person later in life. Later is always in the future,
even when death is in the present. Namor knew all about Death. Death was
no stranger to Atlantis. In fact, Namor had dined with Death on a few
occasions, and he even had a ceramic mug that was given to him by Death.
It said "Government of Atlantis, Department of Death." That Death had a
really weird sense of humour. He wasn't the grim reaper or the specter of
death, but just a non-magical cod whose parents happened to give him a
weird name. Namor still liked him, though. Death Death Death Death Death
Death.
So he headed down one of the roads (I forget which, so let's hope
it isn't important to the story) in search of some kind of death, and not
his friend Death, either. On the way down the road, he did see his friend
Death, and he was hitchhiking on the side of the road. Namor pulled over
and asked Death where he was going. Death shrugged his shoulders and asked
where Namor was going. "I'm going to die," answered Namor. "Aren't we
all?" replied Death, and they giggled like little schoolboys. The sense
of humour of Atlantis was terrible in those olden days, and that's why
Namor was so prepared to kill himself by following the trail to a certain
or an uncertain death. He asked Death if he wanted a lift, but the hairy
little guy was already passed out and in the process of soiling himself!
Now that was a wonderful and unprecedented show of loyalty and
respect that didn't become widespread in the City of Night until years
later, but Namor had momentarily forgotten. He wasn't in Atlantis anymore,
he was in The Land of LaLaLa!
The Land of LaLaLa was a magical world, too beautiful to describe
in mere words and too vast to be calculated with numbers! The only way
knowledge of it could be passed on was through the brilliant sculptures of
the period and the detailed battle tales as chronicled by the legendary
scribes of Atlantis.
That didn't count, though. It just didn't count to Namor. As he
sped toward his end, the road pulled him faster and faster with increasing
gravity. He flew faster, and the finale drew closer. Closer, closer, he
could see the end now. He flew through the finish line and like the
snapping of a rubber band he was in another place.
A bucket. Namor was a bucket. The felt the tough hand of the
pretty young milkmaid grab his handle and carry him somewhere unknown.
The way she clutched him and swung him by his handle was very attractive
to him. Then she sat him down in a pile of stuff (he could not determine
what it was), and she filled him with the fresh milk of the cow. "I love
you," he thought to her, but being a milk pail he was unable to speak. She
loved him too, though. She loved him just fine. She took care of him,
washing him every day, scrubbing him with her naked hands. He served his
purpose in serving her too. He held all of the milk that she could not
bear by herself. Their relationship flourished, and Namor was happy for
the first time in his new life.
Then one day he got a hole in him, so the maid didn't love him
anymore. She threw him in the scrap yard to rust and decay until the end
of time.
You might be feeling a bit sorry for Namor, but he met a really
nice shovel and they fell in love. She had a broken handle, but he still
loved her, and as they decayed together for the next several thousand years
they were happy that they were not biodegradable and that they could love
for nearly ever.
Then one day someone cleaned up the yard and threw everything in
another yard. Namor never saw the shovel again. You might be a bit sorry
for him, but he decided that he didn't need love anyway and was happy just
to be alive. Then he realized that he wasn't alive and spent the rest of
his existence in solitude. After he decomposed there was another rubber
band snap and he was back in Atlantis. The only problem was that it was
several thousand years later and the world was way too different. He
couldn't handle it so he killed himself.
Some of the people of the day found Namor's body, and the way they
got rid of dead bodies at this time was to teleport them to different time
periods. They transported Namor back to his own time, a week after the
pink guys carried him off, and the Healers nursed him back to health. Then
he returned to the capital and told everyone of his amazing voyage.
We didn't believe it, though. We may be fictional, but we're not
stupid.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE ATTENTION, THE CAR, AND ME by dinkee
before i ever got my license, i knew nothing about cars. i knew
nothing about the horse power, the stick shift, the gear box, the
coolant... absolutely nothing. i found it utterly ridiculous too how a
boy could fall so in love with a car and would rather spend hours waxing
it, watering it and polishing it than doing those things to me. for a long
while, i thought, "okay, its YOU, it may well be that you give the
appearance of someone who doesn't need all that smothering, unlike a car
who constantly craves the human touch." so i went on my utterly confused
teenage years panting over a boy who had a car, trying all different ways
for him to pay attention to ME than HER. i thought, "maybe if i had better
curves than her", "maybe if i smelt like leather". and trust me on this
one, there is nothing worse than having to don on tight leather pants in
the middle of summer to impress a guy... and STILL no attention.
so okay, that didn't work, since he loved to polish that thing, i'll
make it look like i need a good polishing. so off i went into a spree of
grunge clothes, greasy hair, clothes that needed a good wash and the
response was "you look tired and drained out, you should take a long bath
and take a rest for a few days." what to do i pondered? mind you, this
was when i was quite the young girl, impressing a guy was the main focus of
the week. if it wasn't the boy with the car, it was the boy with the
skateboard, the boy with the guitar, the boy with the beer, the boy with
biology books, etc, etc. as years went by i got so fed up with impressing
"the boy", i decided a rather "mature" approach, and to forget that boys
ever existed in this world.
i viewed men with a dangling thing as a distraction to the real
meaning of life. "poo to boys!" i would say whenever a girlfriend would
coo over mr-oh-so-damn-fit, why bother? you'll just end up in this never
ending "pay attention to me! i can be your toy!" and will you ever get his
attention? no. well, i say that with utter confidence only because i'm
just incredibly lucky to have never gotten attention when i wanted it.
but then it all depends on the individual as my mum puts it. sometimes,
some girls just go for the boys who are complete pricks, and boy are there
many in the world.
so time has passed, and i do have my license, and i polish my car,
i wax it, water it... everything that "the boy" did, and it hit me. it had
nothing to do with the fact that i was not interesting enough, or that i
didn't smell of leather, or any of that silly stuff. it was the mere fact
that "the boy" didn't have much to say to a girl who wanted to get to know
him. now that i'm much older to understand cars, i don't find it all too
ridiculous to love your car so much to want to spend every energy and
affection into it, because to be perfectly honest with you, if i could,
i would shag my car every day and every night.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
OLD UNPUBLISHED ARTICLE INTENED FOR "RICUS" by Squinky
Hey there, my name is Steve.
I've got a pretty average life, I'm mid 30s, unmarried, heterosexual,
have a dog, have my own apartment, and I'm an invalid.
Yeah, I'm an invalid, so fuckin' what? If I could do something, I'd shove
my cane right up your fuckin' ass.
Anyways, I'm not here to threaten you, but I'm hear to tell you about my
great life.
In the beginning, my parents concieved me in a barn. You see, I'm a
first-generation human, evolved from cows. Yeah, I know what you are
thinking, cows? I thought humans evolved from Apes, well guess what, we
didn't. I'm living proof of this. Science *hAS* been wrong Before. Anyways,
the labor was very tramatic, and my Mom died. So, I never really knew her,
other than her insides. Of course, I was to young to understand what was
happening at the time, but good ol' Dad was not pleased with me at all.
Apparently, he didn't like me being the reason of his Mate's death.
I killed my mom. I admit it. Now, some might say "Actually your
mom's animal desires killed her", which in effect is true, unless you
really brake it down. If she still had sex, but just didn't get knocked up,
she wouldn't be dead. So, Dad blamed me for Mom's death, and so Do/did I.
Dad didn't like the idea of having a first generation human in the
family. Not one bit. I swear he tried to kill me on 30, or so, different
occasions. But hell, I still love the bastard. Why? I guess our blood link
must be it. After all, his reaction is understandable, if I had a damn
freak for a son, I'd be the first to rip his head off.
Damn, I hate freaks. I see them all the time, here in my little
room of horrors. That is what I call my bedroom, because that is what it
is. The government provides a nurse for me, but she only comes once a week,
so by the time she is here, I'm in a pile of shit and piss. And TeleVision
is my only real friend. Of course, I can't change the channel, but that's
ok, cause I have my VCR preprogrammed to do it. Had the nurse do it, let
her spend her time doing something useful, and let the shit pile up. Yeah,
it piled the hell up that 2 weeks. Disgusting as hell, but who cares, I'm
going to die soon anyways.
TeleVision however, is really what keeps me alive. Sally Jessy
Raphel, Phil Donahue, Oprah, Montel Williams, all of 'em, they're my best
friends in the entire fuckin' world. I just love they way they get all the
mutants, like me, on. I saw a lady with a Beard yesterday, and I thought to
myself, "Wow. I'm lucky". I actually fuckin' thought that. I'd rather be
dead, except for brain activity, and excreting, than be female and have a
beard.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not part of society, I'm not
even fuckin' accepted by it, yet I follow its standards, its believes, its
values. Why? God damned, I hate bearded ladies, though.
Talk shows are the only thing I watch though, I like Science
Fiction, and I watch it almost all the time. I really like Dark Shadows,
though.
Why Dark Shadows? Probably because of the women. I have an
attraction to woman who are probably 90 at the time of my viewing whatever
I am watching. Like in old movies, I'm constantly finding myself enjoying
the females more than the actual movie.
Maybe I like these women, because I feel they are close to death,
like myself, and in this I find comfort. I mean, they are probably dead, or
on their way out, at the time of the viewing, and I'm dead, except for
brain activity, and waste disposal. Like those fuckin' bitches would pay
me any attention, if I was truly dead, though.
Bitches don't like me. Gee, I can't imagine why, maybe it's because
they don't want to fuck a guy who can even talk, sits around in a pile of
shit, and watches TeleVision. I've had sex though, I wasn't always this
way. But, the Chicks don't like me, and won't. My Nurse is the only
female who has even acknowledge my existance as person for quite sometime.
It's usually, "Oh my gawd! How can you live with having that thing for a
son?" to my dad. And of course, it dosen't help Dad's view of my
existance. I wish dad would just get it over with, and kill me.
I'd kill myself, if I could.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
SUN by aster
flash-flash polka dots and rainy spots. things are white and grey,
except for the close tree, and the inside. easy on the eyes until you
reach the inside. easy on the eyes until you get to something warm and
hot and over heated with bright WARMTH.
rotating WHITE socks making patterns in the sky, but it is WHITE,
and the house next door is off-WHITE. and the screen is WHITE and the
paper is WHITE and the frosting and the walls and the bread machine with
WHITE bread cooking inside. below the WHITE, or the black, more
distractions of red or blue or yellow appear, but only for the brief
moment before you look up again.
the end.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
CRITIQUE OF SOME E'ZINE BOYS
by PezMonkey and Soybean (MoonBagel at the time)
11/05/97
Jamesy
------
PezMonkey: "jamesy is gorgeous."
MoonBagel: "he really, really is."
PezMonkey: "yes."
MoonBagel: "he is the type of guy who, if I saw him in a public place, I
would blatantly and conspicuously stare. and then if he
noticed, my eyes would get really big, and I would fling my
head in the other direction. hopefully not into traffic. and
if it is an eating establishment, hopefully not onto someone
else's food."
PezMonkey: "yes, i think you're right."
MoonBagel: "seeing Jamesy would result in me making weird guttaral noises."
Mogel
-----
MoonBagel: "mogel is astoundingly adorable. I've said this before, but he
is everything I wanted two years ago. seeing Mogel would
result in me giggling."
PezMonkey: "yes."
Murmur
------
MoonBagel: "Seeing murmur would result in me saying, 'He's reasonably cute,
but damn, he's weird.'"
PezMonkey: "HAHA: can i paste that into the channel?"
MoonBagel: "Sure! This is fun. :)"
Quarex
------
PezMonkey: "Drew should not pelvic thrust with anyone. Ever."
<break>
"I like making these observations."
"i enjoy them as well."
"I need to think about other dto-type boys."
<break>
Styx
----
MoonBagel: "If I saw him I would think 'Oh, he looks like a gas station
employee.'"
PezMonkey: "He looks like Jesus in the pictures on his webpage."
SwissPope
---------
PezMonkey: "i think that swisspope is adorable."
MoonBagel: "Yes, he is."
Eerie
-----
MoonBagel: "he's physically good looking in a crass way."
PezMonkey: "I'm too prejudiced to make an accurate comment."
ShadowTao
---------
PezMonkey: "RJ looks very thoughtful, like he would talk philosophically
during sex."
MoonBagel: "YES!"
SkinHorse
---------
MoonBagel: "Rob is a Big Blond Aryan ;)"
PezMonkey: "He looks like he would break things. But is he sexy? That, I
think, is the ultimate question."
MoonBagel: "He is sexy in the sense that I would dig him if I saw him play
piano. and I would say I wanted to lick him until presented
with the opportunity."
Puck
----
PezMonkey: "Steev, I think, wins the most lickable award."
MoonBagel: "Yes. I would lick him in a very few seconds."
PezMonkey: "The green hair makes me think of a smurf when I see him,
though."
MoonBagel: "Smurfs are cute!"
PezMonkey: "And so is Steev! But I think that if I watched him drink
anything, it would come out of his piercings, just like a
cartoon!"
MoonBagel: "He's a sprinkler! A sexy sprinkler."
PezMonkey: "With a cool hat."
Sweeney Erect
-------------
PezMonkey: "I think Ron pretends to be mean, and I would lick him, just
because of that."
MoonBagel: "Ron is lickable in an "I don't want him to die, and he has
great taste in men and socks" way. He's squishy-cheeks
adorably sexy."
PezMonkey: "Awww..=)"
Kraftwerk
---------
MoonBagel: "Art is cute in a "I want to smack him and kick him" sense."
PezMonkey: "I think he's too into this whole 'My Bitches' thing. He
worries me."
MoonBagel: "yes, he really is. and 'gay warez'"
PezMonkey: "He's gay."
MoonBagel: "Art is Gay Warez."
Juke
----
PezMonkey: "I think juke is adorable. I want to lick his nose."
MoonBagel: "Yes, that is Juke :)"
PezMonkey: "Apparently everyone wants to, though, because 'Owen is God.'"
Trilobyte
---------
PezMonkey: "Trilobyte just looks weird. He looks like a bug."
MoonBagel: "he looks like a 'nerd nostalgia' writer. he looks like the
academic squad from my school. :)"
PezMonkey: "heh, he's every generic high school academic bowl person all
rolled into one. he also looks kind of like that kid from
Sixteen Candles."
MoonBagel: "Yes, he does!"
Black Francis
-------------
MoonBagel: "Frannie is skinny and hot."
PezMonkey: "He's hot in that 'I shot up too much smack today, want to
fuck?' kind of way, sure."
Creed
-----
MoonBagel: "creed, however, is hot in a kind of gross sort of way."
PezMonkey: "hmm...creed looks like he wipes his snot on his sleeve."
MoonBagel: "yes, he does."
PezMonkey: "But he's kind of cute in that 'i'm a slob' kind of way."
MoonBagel: "yes, in a vaguely unattractive, but cute, way."
JubJub
------
PezMonkey: "Jubjub looks like a gangsta' wannabe....or Tyler, Matt's
friend. But I suppose he looks better in orange than most
people."
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Thu, 9 Nov 2000 11:24:10 EST
From: P0pstarkil@aol.com
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
"a frequent reply in the land of the tiny brained folk"
by killthegirl or kate...ya know, whichever.
she was this girl. this amazing girl. that girl that everyone
knows and thinks is cool and wants to just be able to talk to. the girl
you stare at in class but embarrassed if someone catches you because what
if they think you are a lesbian or something. god forbid. something about
her made you just want to watch how her mouth moves when she talks how she
never takes notes during lectures how she manages to crack her knuckes
gracefully. you were never sure if it was just you that was so enamored
with this being or if she cast this spell over others. you wished you
could be just like her. or she made you wish you were at such ease with
yourself. and one day you complimented her on her hair or shirt or
bracelet and she smiled and thanked you and you blushed. and someone must
have seen your cherry red face and told someone else because pretty soon
you were standing in the hallway with three people standing around you
wanting to know what was up. and you were afraid if you tired to explain
your fascination it would get all skewed and misunderstood. so you just
stood there. and it got very surreal and like something you had read in a
judy blume book when you were twelve. and you just really wanted to go home
and reread the book so you could see what the character did that made
everything back to normal and catch the hot older guy by the end of the
two hundred pages. but you just say you dont know what the fuck they are
talking about. and they roll their eyes. and you walk away.
the end.
yeah well, i just thought i'd submit something since i've read every
goddamn text file at good ol hoe.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Maybe It's Better That Way
by Cap'n Sparky
August, 2000:
I finally managed to get up the needed courage tonight, and I
called Meg. Technically, it shouldn't be so difficult to call up and
ex-coworker and ask for the number to the place we used to work, but of
course, ex-coworker isn't her only "ex" designation. I would have had a
job a few weeks ago, if it wasn't for the fact my old boss moved and Meg
is the only person I know who would know the new number. The Yellow Pages
don't have it. Even if they did, I suspect I would have called Meg anyway.
For the life of me, I can't figure out why.
December, 1999:
Something had been bugging her during the whole conversation. When
you've known somebody for close to six years, when you've worked with them,
and been intimate with them for so long, it's painfully obvious when
they're holding something back. I told her to spit it out. Some things are
better left unsaid. The worry dropped from her voice, "I don't know how to
tell you this... I mean, I don't want you to take this the wrong way...
but I've been screwed up, you know, my dad, other guys... I don't trust...
I mean, I don't trust people easily. With you, though, it was different.
I learned how to trust people, and this guy I'm with... I'd marry him in
a minute and... well, I wouldn't trust him as much if it wasn't for you.
I mean, you were a very special person..." She went on for a little while
longer. The gist was that my relationship with her had been a sort of
primer. She had already told me, about two months before, that she felt we
were too "different" to see each other ever again. More recently, she had
told me she was seeing someone new.
There was a long, extremely uncomfortable silence.
November, 1999:
"Look, Meg," I said, "I've always told you that I wouldn't be able
to keep talking to you if this happened. I meant it then, and I mean it
now. I just can't be friends with you. I've never made that a secret. As
it stands, we're simply going to drift apart as friends anyway. I'll call
you once every few months, and then maybe once a year, and then... The
truth is that it'll be too painful for me to talk to you like this. I'll
be, 'How are you?' 'I'm fine' 'How about you?' 'I'm pretty good'. I can't
do that. Please don't ask me to."
Her response?
"Well, who knows, it could all be over in a month or two."
The sad thing is, she didn't even know that she was being
manipulative. It could all be over in a month or two, indeed. What the
fuck? Was I supposed to sit by the table and beg for scraps? No thanks.
Unfortunately, she didn't even know that that's what she was asking. She
too used to getting her way. Her way, in this case, was to keep me on in
an advisorial capacity. "Oh, boo hoo," she wanted to be able to say, "me
and my new guy are having problems. What should I do?"
I tend to observe people. I watch them. I keep quiet. In my life,
I've observed enough people, and I have a good enough memory and a quick
enough mind to make connections. In addition, I'm stubborn. I'm insistent
enough that I'm not easily brushed off when I confront people with hard
truths about themselves. In short, some people think that I give good
advice. I don't know about that. In an age when everybody tells everyone
else what they want to hear, nice little lies, I guess that becomes an
asset.
At least she thought so.
Incidentally, that's how we broke up. I told her really harsh truths
which she didn't want to hear. Even in my worst moments, I end up giving
good advice.
September, 1997:
I yelled into the phone. I knew she hated it when anybody yelled. As
a result, I never really yelled at her, I was always quiet when I was mad.
But this time, I knew that it would hurt her, so I yelled.
"You're always fucking thinking about yourself, goddammit! I
fucking hope you meet somebody one day... someone exactly fucking like
you... fucking SELFISH so you can see the type of shit that you fucking
put people through. Everything's got to be about you, it's fucking always
about you, you can't fucking compromise. Well fuck you, fuck this shit.
Goodbye."
<click>
I hung up on her.
I rarely hang up on people, and I usually only do it when I'm really
pissed. It's the best way to ensure that the other person won't get a word
in. They sit there, in the silence, realizing that the responses they were
formulating, no matter how persuasive, were all for naught. In this case, I
didn't even give her the respect of defending herself.
In a way, it was a beautiful feeling, knowing that I had simply
struck her dumb with the motion of my finger. Godlike. It was refreshing,
and although it was a little harsh, I felt it was entirely justified. It
was all the truth, after all. She was selfish. Everything in our
relationship really was about her. To tell the truth, she really was
unable to compromise. She wanted people at her beck and call. She only
had time for people if she wanted to have time for people.
The truth is that I wanted to go out to dinner, or to a movie, or
just go outside maybe once or twice a week. She preferred to watch VH1, or
E!, or shitty true-story, made-for-TV-movies on Lifetime. She was incapable
of seeing people as... well... people. She just wanted to get off work and
watch TV.
In a sense, it was about her inability to trust people. She wanted
to be in control, so that she didn't have to trust. As long as she kept me
coming back to her place, to her world, everything was easy and
comfortable. She didn't have to work at trusting me. She didn't have to
worry about me slipping away on her watch. She wouldn't have to get
jealous if I looked at a cute waitress, or if we hung out with my friends
and I talked to Juliana, Melissa or someone else.
You see, her dad had walked out on her mom. It had cut her pretty
deep, and it left a wide scar. As a result, she had a hard time trusting
guys. Unfortunately, or maybe appropriately, she was attracted to the kind
of guys who she couldn't have trusted even if she was capable of such a
leap of faith. Of course, since she wasn't capable of trusting her
boyfriends, she wasn't capable of loving them.
She was the dictionary definition of the jealous type.
As a result, she had a succession of guys walk into and out of her
life.
Then I came along.
There were never two people who were more mismatched for each other.
I was a working class kid from the intersection of Kensington, Fishtown
and Port Richmond. She was the daughter of a CEO of a major company. I
managed to glide through some of the best local schools because I was
bright. She managed to glide through life because of her dad's money. I
was angsty, cynical, and really fucking surly. All the time. I thrived on
argument and conflict. She was mellow to the point of absurdity, everything
was okay to her, at all times. Any outward display of anger or
disappointment, and you could walk all over her.
I was then, and still am, manipulative. Even so, there are depths to
which I will not sink. If I care for somebody, I will be straight and
honest with them. I will respect their decisions. Despite the fact that
she caved when faced with loud conflict, I refused to manipulate her in
such a fashion.
For whatever it was worth, I guess I could be trusted. I did put up
with her for a long time. Maybe I put up with her longer than I should
have. I don't know.
The only time I ever manipulated her was that last night we were
still "together", when I yelled at her. I wanted to burn that bridge
between us, and I did.
What was worse was that my logic was twisted enough that I thought
that it was for her good.
I really did.
Crazy. I know.
Spring, 1997:
The light outside filtered through the blinds. There were
alternating portions of light and dark on her body, under the thin cover.
I got a kick out of watching her sleep. I could watch her for hours. I
could study every part of her body. If I tried that when she was awake,
she would get nervous and self-conscious, despite the fact that I
frequently told her how beautiful she was.
I meant it, too. Her eyes, her lips, her hair, her tummy, the swell
of her breasts, her legs, other parts. Physically, she was the most
appealing woman I had ever met.
I watched her as she slept. I watched her eyes. They darted back and
forth under her eyelids like... bugs.
I remembered a time when I was younger. I waged war on the bugs in
my backyard. I used chemical weapons, in the form of No Frills bug spray,
to kill legions of bugs. Ants, pillbugs, beetles. No hiding place in my
yard was safe haven. When the chemicals cleared, I felt hollow. I had
learned, in a very direct sense, about mortality. I also learned that the
deaths I had caused were utterly pointless. I had thought that my killing
spree would be fun, but it really wasn't. It was disgusting, and I felt
dirty.
Strangely, Meg had been the first, and only, person I ever told that
story to. I had always felt that it was so stupid and petty that I never
wanted to tell anyone about it.
That caused me to remember the time my cousin and I had burned a
grasshopper alive in an empty lot. Once I went home and told my parents
what I had done, they were angry. Over the rest of the day, it slowly
dawned on me that I had done something very, very wrong. Not only had I
killed something, I had caused it to suffer beyond imagining. I learned
about suffering that day in a direct and very real sense. The incredible
suffering I had caused was for my own gratification. I simply wanted to
see what would happen. I had thoughtlessly done something so cruel that I
am genuinely ashamed to admit that I did it.
Her eyelids were undulating like... caterpillars.
I remembered a time, down the shore, my brother called me other to
look at a magnificent, fat caterpillar. As I watched in wonder, he let go
of a big flat rock he had propped up. For him, it was a perfect shot. The
caterpillar was squished, and its innards flew forward landing on my lips
and in my mouth. I realized what was in my mouth, the life of that
caterpillar, and I realized that the taste was the taste of death.
How many bugs have been murdered for the thoughtless, pointless
self-gratification of children? Was I doing the same thing here, without
realizing it?
I kept watching her. She was breathing, quietly. She was vulnerable,
not just because she was sleeping, but because she was in love with me. I
mouthed the words, "I love you," and I suddenly felt hollow inside. I
realized that she was alive. Really, really alive. She was dreaming. She
was breathing. She had hopes, fears and secrets. She had feelings. I
realized that it was possible that I might hurt her someday.
Whenever she said that she loved me, I knew that she really meant
it. I knew that she cared for me. That made her vulnerable. What if I was
simply playing along? What if she loved me, and I didn't love her? One day
I might meet someone who I would fall in love with. I would leave her
behind, and I would hurt her, like I had hurt that caterpillar. I could
cause her incredible pain.
If I was going along with it, why? For the softness of her mouth
when I kissed her? The pleasant, easy feeling that I would get when I
would tell my friends I was going to my girlfriend's house?
I slid out of bed. I kicked my jeans, jingling the change and keys
in my pockets. I quickly stifled the sound. I lifted them slowly and
quietly. I fumbled for my shoes and my socks in the darkness. I stood on
the balls of my feet and tried to silently work my way toward the door. I
whacked my shin against the corner of the matress, which shook her a bit
and caused my jeans to jingle. Meg stirred. I held my breath.
She continued to sleep. I snuck out. In her living room, I slid on
my pants in the darkness. I put on my socks and my shoes. I walked to her
kitchen table and settled on a chair like a bird or a gargoyle. I lit a
cigarette and watched the smoke in the dim light from the window.
I thought about leaving.
I thought about getting up, going to the door, opening it, and
walking to the train station. I could wait for a few hours, and then be on
my way home. I could call up work and quit. It would be as simple as that.
Nobody would have to know. It would confuse Meg, I'm sure. She'd call to
see what happened... I could avoid her.
If I wasn't sure that I loved her, I wouldn't want to be with her.
Eventually, I decided to think about it some more instead of
leaving. Maybe I did love her. I went back to her bedroom, took off my
shoes, socks and jeans and fell asleep.
I did say "I love you," after that. Quite a few times, but not
nearly as frequently as before. I wasn't always sure.
September, 1997:
After I hung the phone up, I realized I had made a huge mistake. I
felt so hollow inside I wouldn't have been surprised if I crumbled and
blew away.
I had hurt her beyond comprehension.
My plan, carefully crafted to make our parting as quick and complete
as possible had backfired because at that point, I realized that I really
did love her.
I realized then that I had blown it.
November, 1999:
"I want to tell you all about this guy I met, he's so sweet to
me..."
"I don't want to hear about him, because I'll hate him, and he
probably doesn't deserve that."
December, 1999:
She had just told me that I had taught her how to love.
I briefly considered pointing out that she had taught me how to love
as well. I didn't, and I don't think that it really would have been the
right time.
Instead, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I said, "To
tell you the truth... um... I really don't know how to take that." That was
the truth. I didn't know how to take that. In fact, it took a few weeks
before I really got pissed off that she had told me that I had made her
happy by allowing her to fall in love with this new guy. What the fuck?
Why tell me? Did she even think about how incredibly cruel that comment
would be?
"Sure, you didn't get what you wanted, but I'm so happy you helped
me get what I wanted!"
After that, she tried to rope me into giving her advice about her
relationship. I did, and then politely told her I never wanted to talk to
her again.
I called her up to bitch her out a few weeks later, to tell her how
much she had hurt me. I walked around in a dazed state for weeks. I
couldn't concentrate on anything. I got her answering machine. It took her
a few months to call me back. When she did, we exchanged pleasantries. It
was a brief conversation, an it was obvious we were both holding something
back.
I suspect that she wanted advice on her relationship, but I refused
to talk about anything other than how our mutual friend, my old boss, was
doing. I have too much respect for myself, and I refuse to be the advice
guy anymore.
We're no longer lovers, we're no longer friends, we're hardly
acquaintances.
August, 2000:
Tonight, I got the answering machine. Meg's answering machine has
always had pretty much the exact same message. It has always been a simple
message. I think she changed it once, but it was pretty much exactly the
same. The one thing that never changed about calling Meg was her boring,
simple answering machine message.
But... It was different this time. At first, it was a subtle
difference, the volume of her voice... but then...
When I was younger, I used to run around and play in this forested
swamp down the shore. One year, instead of that forested swamp, there was
a brand new house. I remember being extremely confused, and as a result,
extremely pissed, in part because the place I used to play had been
destroyed, but in part because familiar surroundings which I had known
my whole life had changed.
I felt the same kind of feeling. My heart sank. "You've reached Meg
and Mike..."
I wanted to hang up, but I knew she had caller ID. She would see my
number there, and whether I left a message or not, she might call. I fought
off a sudden panic attack, and left my message. I don't know whether I
sounded calm and casual or in a state of utter panic.
Whatever. I guess it really doesn't matter.
Now, I get to wait for her to call back. When she calls back, I
probably won't really talk to her. We'll most likely chat a bit, but we
won't really say anything to each other. As I said, we're not even really
friends. In a way, that's comforting.
Still, the answering machine message hammered home a finality I
hadn't really expected. I hadn't prepared for it, because Meg's answering
machine message never changed. I had feared getting her, and having to go
through the motions: talking while leaving so many things unsaid. For
some reason, that takes a lot out of me.
I never expected that I'd get a kick in the teeth from her answering
machine.
Oh well, now I get to wait for her to call back. I managed to track
down my old boss' home number, so I don't even need to talk to Meg anymore.
Maybe it's better that way.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
LEGEND OF THE BLINK TAG by Juliet
The World Wide Web, or w3 (god damn soul sucking buzzwords/acronyms)
as some call it, was invented by CERN in 1991. HTML started out as
HTML 1.0, it was pure and virgin back then. No crappy tables, no
browser-proprietary junk. Frames were something you hung on a wall,
and JAVA still a concept.
Mosaic was released by NCSA in 1993. At this time, the Internet was
still just something geeks used. There were all types of geeks. One special
type of geek who helped create the w3 was a physics geek. We shall call him
The Physics Geek. Everyone just figured to be a normal guy with a new
idea, but they didn't know that he had been on a Vision-quest (TM).
Oh yes, The Physics Geek had found a portal to a plane that had all
the answers. On this plane, they informed him of "The Blink". "The Blink"
was a very powerful, yet wonderful thing. It cures cancer, restores family
values, and will help you save on your income tax.
The Physics Geek knew he would be laughed at, and dis-credited if he
revealed this information, but he couldn't just keep it to himself. He
decided that he would slowly integrate "The Blink" into society, and what a
better place to do it than a tiny intellecutual community. So thats what he
did. He decided to create a switch for "The Blink" in his new mark-up
language called Hyper Text Mark-up Language. It was an easy way to control
"The Blink".
Unfortunatly he misjudged the geek community. He forgot these were
the people were book smart, yet some were very close-minded. They didn't
even give "The Blink" a chance. They damned it. They ridiculed it. Then
they banished it. By the time Mosaic was passe, and Netscape 1.21b (used
colors, didn't eat memory, wasn't that bloated - yum!) was released, using
"The Blink" was worse than declaring that the Windows 95 original alpha
release was bug free. The Physics Geek was crushed, but then he became
angry. He decided to punish the world by never revealing "The Blink's"
powers. And to this very day, we are in a blink-free world, and we are
all a little worse off for it.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE LADY BUG THAT LOST IT'S HEAD by LatinMan
The clouds slowly moved to engulf the pale light of the full moon
but only served to give it's light a bit more splender. I laid there
staring for what seemed like hours observing every single movement of
each cloud hoping that the whole scene wouldn't stop. If I looked closely
it almost looked like waves washing over a greenish beach but this isn't
the time for descriptions, no its a time for relaxation and observation.
Someone just said something but I'm lost in the moon, with all its power
to make the waves in the oceans and to give women a reason to be bitchy
once a month. I guess its proper that the word lunatic came from the Latin
word luna, seems anyone could go crazy just watching it like I am. I could
sit here for hours with people yelling out my name beside me and I would
still have this dazed look in my eyes that any "normal" person would
consider crazed. But I lose myself, its time to focus on other things.
I turn my head slowly watching the walls in the room seem to move
with the slow turn of my head and body. I finally see what that Someone
was asking me to look at, It's watching Fantasia. What a wonderfull movie
the people at Disney have put together. They have taken the wonders of
classical music and put it to absolutely fantastic animation. Just look
as each color flows into another, I can just here It make soft sounds like
"Ooh" and "Ahh" as each scene flows into the one after. I wonder if I
open my mouth would I make those same sounds, my train of thought breaks as
a the music gets louder and thousands of brooms burst into the scene. Oh
god, what the fuck are they going to do to Mickey. It looks like some
gigantic gang bang and poor gay Mickey is in the middle of it. I think of
screaming out, "MICKEY YOU A BLACK BROTHER, EVEN THOUGH YOU BE TYPE GAY,
YOU STILL CAN PULL A GAK OUT ON THEM!," but I realize that would be kind of
stupid since It will probably just stare at me like It always does
wondering why the hell am I not quiet. It seems as if it read my mind and
starts staring at me intently. I try to look at the TV noticing that
theres a shitload of water on the screen and Mickey's riding some book but
I feel It's eyes on me so I turn back.
I'm not going to let It win this fight, I will stare just as hard
back at him. It shifts positions moving slightly making me realize how
beautiful It is. My hand goes out just to feel it, but my hand is quickly
met with even larger movements than before. I doubt Its very happy right
now. I'm not sure why It just hasn't left by now, but its now up to me to
deal with. I realize suddenly how It got here, what It is, and why the
hell It got here...
* * *
It must have been about 3 hours ago when I first found It outside.
It was caught in some fake webs I put up as decoration outside. I was just
playing with the webbing between my fingers and suddenly came upon Its
little body. I knew if I wanted to continue playing with the web I had to
release this poor thing. I grabbed It as best I could but there was no
budging, I pulled a little harder and sudeenly RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP He was
free. I was happy that I had saved Him from the web but I soon realized
that He wasn't fully intact. I decapitated this poor thing. I heard once
that it was bad luck to kill one of them so I took Him into the house to
see if He was ok. Yes I knew that wondering after the fact was futile, but
I was very happy to see that He had survived and His headless body was
still trying to fly.
Needless to say I was EXTREMELY happy to see Him and in some ways
sorta weirded out about the whole thing. How the fuck was this lil thing
still alive and at that still trying to fly with all its might. I looked
at each of its wings and was pulled in by its vibrant colors. I counted
its spots and realized how old it was, christ this bastard was older than
me. I sat him beside me and popped Fantasia in just for the hell of it.
* * *
I guess that brings you up to date on my little friend. He's cool
I guess, doesn't say much or move much, but he's pretty cool I guess.
Shit, I forgot there was people over my house. I look over and see Chris
and Jen both focused on their own lil things intently. Jen staring at the
Wonderful World of Disney and Chris seems to be enthralled by the Lava
Lamp in the corner. I scoot closer to the Lava Lamp to see how "special"
it actually is and I immediately realized how "special" it was. A big
bubble of, whatever the fuck that is, formed in the bottom and slowly
oozed its way up until it got to big at the top and broke off. It did
this over and over again, and damnit I could not get enough of it. It
almost looked like real lava so I decided to see if it was just as hot. I
grabbed the Lava Lamp and held it, it wasn't as hot as real lava but it
was pretty damn hot.
Chris suddenly said, "Dude don't hog the lava."
I smiled and said, "Don't worry it wont waste, I wanted to feel it."
"Let me hold it for a bit then," he said as he grabbed it out of
my hand.
I stared at it still flowing in his hand and wondered what the fuck
was in it that made it look so cool. Chris must have been reading my
mind because he said, "Its made from wax and oil dude. I had one and it
broke in my basement, all the oil fell out and the wax kinda just plopped
down. It was fucking cool as..."
I think my kitty Tanks just moved. It was sitting on the table
right on the corner now its suddenly...SHIT it moved again. I slowly move
a bit closer to it not sure what the fuck its going to do and put my hand
on its tail. I sigh as I hear him meow softly. I guess it was just the
shadows the T.V. made as it played Fantasia. I look down and realize I
have a fucking glowstick in my hand and think hard about how the hell it
got there. I stare at it a lil and the memory slowly floats back...
* * *
We were all smoking in the dining room wondering what to do next.
As I held my cigarette I suddenly see from the corner of my eye that Chris
swiped at it. I look over at the cigarette and then at him. "Dude did you
just try to grab my smoke?"
He quickly asked, "What the fuck you talking about Rich?"
"Dude, I could have sworn you just tried to grab it, I saw it from
the corner of my eye."
He laughed, "Hah YOU GOT IT MAN. I can see it in your eyes, you
got it." He flicked his lighter in front of my eyes and the blinding
flash made me blink a few times.
"Why the fuck you do that?" I said as I rubbed my eyes trying to
get the flickering flame from my vision.
"Lets go to the bedroom," Jen said suddenly.
We went in out of boredom I guess and Jen decided to turn off the
lights so we could see the kickass glow in the dark stickers that we have
on our ceiling and walls. Chris suddenly started flicking his lighter at
me again but instead of shrinking away from it I noticed that it almost
created a strobe effect and I told him to continue doing it. I just
"Ahhh" and "Whoa'ed" as his lil light show continued. It seemed almost
like a dance floor so I had the sudden urge to do a lil beat boxing. I
was suddenly taken back to the late 1980's back when I rode a cheese bus
to school and got picked on because I was the palest latino kid anyone on
the bus ever saw. I remembered all of the moved they did, the phat ass
beats they would create during their lil beat boxing matches. I didn't
think and just let out a rhthym that actually sounded good, so I started
putting in scracthing sounds and a few "Fat Boys" signature laughs, it was
the shit. After about 5 minutes of it, my lips got tired and I decided to
stop.
Chris came out of no where and said, "Dude, we should get a
glowstick, that would be fucking awesome right now."
I thought to myself and realized that I saw one inside my
girlfriend's roomate's draw the other day. I ran over to her room and
accidently knocked over her ashtray while looking for the glowstick. I
finally found it but was forced to pass it to Chris as I cleaned up. Jen
came in to help me while Chris just happily walked around with my fucking
glow stick.
* * *
Anyways thats how I got the glowstick, I stole it back from Chris
and just kept it in my hand. I put it under Tank's paw as I sat back to
watch a lil more Fantasia and I was already focused on Fantasia as I heard
Tank's meow in the backround. I took a sip of my orange juice and gave a
lil sigh because it tasted sooooooo good. I stretched my back a lil and
laid back enjoying Aladdin and Jasmine sing, "A Whole New World." I
couldn't help but smile as I saw the Sun slowly creep its way across the
sky because I knew it was gonna be a groovy ass day.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
A VANDAL'S REVENGE by Viggen
Andrew was walking along the road one day, holding hands with his
girlfriend.
He was tired from selling ecstasy to 14 year olds the night before
and in no mood to be fucked with. As he was strolling along, a rugbyhead
(the New Zealand version of a jock) leaned out the passenger side of a
passing car and called him several nasty names. The driver also made
several nasty hand gestures at him.
Andrew was quite annoyed at this and yelled stuff back but this
did not fully appease his anger, though the events that followed soon
after would. The car turned about five houses after the occupants of the
very expensive car had insulted Andrew. Andrew didn't think much of this
until he walked past the point where the car had turned. You see, Andrew
at first thought the car had turned into another street, but no! When he
looked down a driveway he saw the same car driving into a garage.
Andrew experienced a sudden mood change upon seeing this. You see,
he now had the address of the driver of the silver car. Later on in the
month, the occupants of the house discovered several rather expensive
calls on their phone bill. Some of their mail went missing and two months
after the incident, one of them found a large overdue amount on their
credit card bill. Andrew now has a 20 gigabyte hard drive.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Hi. Mogel here. Below is possibly one of the most incoherent submissions
ever sent into our humble over-six-years 'zine, which is actually saying a
lot. For your highest entertainment value, drink some vodka and then
read it.
Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000 09:05:07 GMT
From: "omega boy" <omega_boy9@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: HOE SUBMISSION
i hate to see such a great sight that i just found go away but i guess i
will contribute to help you out i wish you wouldnt end it but you prolly
have alot of reasons why here are some things ive written i would like to
go by simon the sickly if possible
-------------
as a child my favorie game was god except instead of playing the the all
riteous all knowing all vengefulgod i would be the one to praise the lord
of creation to bow we he is before me to kiss his feet at his leasure to
bath his decrpid unused body to do his bidding as he sat waiting to give
me his next task waiting and as he did he began to get fagt his only job
was to sit night and ay telling me what he wanted done he did nothing
never actually doing anything just sitting until i didnt even need him to
tell me what to do i mearly knew what he wanted and did that he couldnt
complain cause i did it to make him happy and to save his precious time i
did this until the point to where he did nothing at all all day all night
nothing he was wondering that maube he should get rid of me he had
forgotten how to do things he had forgotten how he felt about things he
didnt know what to do except that if if it wasnt for meit wouldnt have
happened and if i was the cause i would be the solution but by the time he
had realized that i had replaced in the people's eyes as their ruler i had
become and to them i was the all riteous all knowing the all vengeful he
had become nothingmore than a symbol a relic and representative of what
had been replaced but the only thing that had been replaced was him by me
and i expected that one day that this time would come when retaliation
would come not from the peasants as befor but from the man i once seved the
one that i was a willing slave the one who through his own ignorance and
sinning blood line had built an empire and was to lose it to who his very
servant the one he spat and desecrated for so many years the one he made
drink his urine and eat his shit because he was too lazy to go to the
restroom so what do i do when this one decrepid desgusting thing trys to
destroy me i will kill him i will take my knife and crisin it in his blood
he will be powerlessto the fate i have planned i dont feel as strong as i
have but enough to do what needs to be done so i walk to him giving him the
slightest smirk as i brandished the blade and with his squinting eyes one
was small while the other had no color large as if it were glass and gave
me a just as guile smirk back to me this gave me wonder to why he was
smilling this caused such a great pain that was growing insde of me
wrenching my insides but i could not think about that now with this job at
hand i ran ran but my i fell to the floor my insides were twisted inside
them selves my mind throbbing so i could listen to it speed up only to
cover up the soundof my fading heart beat i watched there as he got up as
he had never done in so many years come to me spit on me and then in my
last glimpse drop a glass vile as it shattered into my eyes and i lost i
never won cause if i did i wouldnt be able to go to lunch in time
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THIS FILE WAS REALLY WRITTEN BY NYBAR by Trilobyte
I picked up the phone and dialed a random number. A bored-sounding
receptionist asked who I wanted to talk to. Making up a name, I said
"John Dick" then giggled. She said there was no John Dick there, and maybe
I'd like to provide one 'cause I've gots a sexy voice..." and I said
"Nahh.. too many bitches already.. umm.. whatabout Nate Cooper?" She said
yeah, and put me on with him. I said "Howzabout frosty, where do I find
frosty the elf." He said "In the sinsearch.. umm.. get naked." Complying,
I realized I was a goat from the waist down!! So I peed goat style.
Awwwww yeahh. So anyway, I was deep dicking a bunch of gnomish land gnomes
and there was a land mine in my belly button. And then, the fifth
revelation (after "Afghanastan Banana Stand"): I was an outy. I was going
to kill my self but a bunch of french faggots with girly T-Rex arms
started attacking me like girls..... so I devoured them.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
GREEN EYED LADY OF THE NIGHT by Teletype
as we lay in your bed, kissing with a passion never known before,
the vodka slowly inching its tendrils into our bodies, wearing away
inhibitions and pride, intoxicating, i am enraptured. i lay next to you
but i am not there. this is not real. my reality is far away, on a rickety
apartment balcony overlooking a run down old school yard. i watch over the
broken railing as young children, eager to fit the mold of society, play
amongst broken bottles, and the long since extinguished butts of
cigarettes previously enjoyed by the faculty. is this my reality? i watch
with numbed emotion, failing to see the horror as the faces of the
children melt and twist into forms incongruous with any human visage.
the school building itself is crawling with hordes of maggots, eager to
infest the minds and bodies of the pupils within. horror slowly sets in,
and i turn away from this macabre scene, fleeing to the sanctuary of the
apartment. inside, with a friend once again, i slide an old, well played
compact disc into the player, press a button, and i am greeted with a
flurry of music from the past, recorded by artists who have since died or
gone insane. my friend stares into the television set, lost, as a worn out
tape of twin peaks drones on and on about laura palmer. i ignore the
television, and soon ignore the music itself, content to enjoy the surreal
conglomeration of the several stimuli in the room. the odour of stale
incense, cigarette smoke, and marijuana permeates the air. i drift into
what seems to be a deep, refreshing sleep, only to later realise that i
was actually in a sort of mindless trance. my reality shifts as i find
myself back in your arms again. i want nothing more than to love you with
all my heart. then, i realise of course, that this is only a fleeting
reality. i let out an ephemerial sigh as i realise that i am driving.
with a new found freedom, i speed down the interstate, the citisen's band
transceiver fighting with the blaring stereo and the headlights of
oncoming cars for my waning attention. behind me lies a past of crime, and
hate, love and lust, dear friends, spiteful enemies, family,
responsibility. all has been cast off as i hurtle toward my destiny. still,
when i reach it, i find myself returning to you, to be in your arms again.
are we real yet? i love you. i can't lose you. i hold you in my arms, as
i see the final, desolate answer -- this will never be a reality. i shed
a single tear as i let you go for the last time, and seek the stability
that comes when one is in touch with that which is real. i say a last
goodbye, with a promise of return, to the friend with the balcony, visit
my lonely hovel that i used to call home, milking it of anything useful
that may still be there. i stop ever so briefly to feed lies to loved
ones, and again, i set out on the road to my fate. good morning, dear. i
hate you.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
ARCHAEOLOGISTS by Teerts
what will future arachaeologists find?
eroded toilets and faucets?
in my limited experience i've not heard
of ancient human waste-disposal units.
heh, plastic will be around forever.
farewell hoe, your faux-angsty existence has come to an end.
enjoy it while you can.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2000 23:35:24 -0600 CST
From: quarex@hoe.nu
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: Funnies
I have no idea if this is in any way appropriate for Hoe #2000. But
this sure is stupid.
---------
The <20>thelwulf's Utopia Purity Test
A) General Activities
B) Drew's Basement
C) Drew's Car
D) Aethelwulf's Utopia BBS / Drew's Computer
E) In-jokes
F) Clique History
G) Insulting
H) Misogyny
I) Grill
J) Goat-Spiel
K) This Test Overall
HAVE YOU EVER:
A. General Activities
x) Ate muddy buddies?
x) Coerced Erik into making chicken fajitas?
x) Played the Mister T boardgame while a duped Erik prepared chicken
fajitas?
x) Been to Mr. Quik?
x) Ordered a Ghoulie?
x) Ordered a Ghoulie and found that Mr. Quik was out of them?
x) Been photographed by a Mr. Quik employee?
x) Listened to 'The Chorus Tape'
x) Proposed the idea of 'The Chorus Tape'
x) Been to Six Flags with the Crew(tm)?
x) Used a (tm) after anything you said(tm)?
x) Designed a computer game and never completed it?
x) Had a suggestion rejected while writing this purity test?
B. Drew's Basement
x) Been to Drew's basement?
x) Stayed in Drew's basement for more than 4 hours?
x) Slept in Drew's basement?
x) Guarded Drew's basement when he hasn't been around?
x) Beat a nintendo game in Drew's basement?
x) Discovered a toy that Drew didn't know about?
x) Petted B.C. without getting bitten?
x) Made a phone call from Dr. Hunt's office?
x) Gotten bored while making the phone call and browsed through
Dr. Hunt's national geographic magazines looking at pictures
of nepal?
x) Cut out a strip from an Archie digest and put it on the wall?
x) Played any RPG in Drew's Basement?
x) Played Ghosts in Drew's Basement?
x) Seen Drew's CD Collection when it fit in a shoebox?
x) Remember the Ping Pong Table being here?
x) Wondered where the Tire(tm) came from?
x) Flirted with Laura Kurtenbach *SPIT* in the dark?
x) Wondered why Drew has four Gregorian Chant CDs?
x) Done anything sexual in Drew's basement?
x) Waited in Drew's basement without Drew being there?
x) Waited in Drew's basement for more than an hour without Drew
being there?
x) Been singled out as being the sole cause of the downfall of
Drew's basement as a world power?
C. Drew's Car
x) Been in Drew's Car?
x) Rode Shotgun in Drew's Car?
x) Driven Drew's car? (holding the steering wheel counts)
x) Heard "Sailor's Farewell" in Drew's Car?
x) Watched Drew scrape the ice off his car to the beat of death
metal?
x) Been trapped in Towanda with Drew's car in a corn field?
x) Passed by Barb's house in Drew's car?
x) Been on the interstate with Drew driving?
x) Been told to get out of Drew's car and open the garage door?
x) Taken the bear head off the gearshift?
x) Seen Drew bitch at Owen for messing with the radio?
x) Played rock/scissors/paper for Shotgun?
x) Thrown a plush snowman out of Drew's car?
x) Had Drew go back to pick up the plush snowman?
x) Done anything sexual in Drew's car?
x) Wanted to do anything sexual in Drew's car?
x) Wanted to do anything sexual in Drew's car with Drew?
D. Aethelwulf's Utopia BBS / Drew's Computer
x) Logged on locally?
x) Broken into chat with someone and tried to sell them drugs?
x) Deleted an old post?
x) Had sex using any of his computer components?
x) Edited a 'zine on his computer?
x) Personally typed in the command to play a .Mod on his computer?
x) Know the difference between phre.btm, phrea.btm and phreak.btm?
x) Wondered where Drew gets all of his samples?
x) Wondered why Erik still has my FUCKING MICROPHONE!!?
x) Wondered how AU has had over 24,500 calls?
x) Wished Drew would write more Mods?
x) Wonder what sort of Mystical Force makes Drew's computers fuck
up all the time?
x) Sloth?
x) Been in ASBiDiA?
x) Tried to write an .mtm on Drew's computer?
x) Come to Drew's house on your lunch break to see why AU was down?
x) Tried to fix Drew's computer but failed?
E. In-jokes
x) Snorted binaca?
x) Snapped when someone has said Cornucopia? *snap*
x) Shaken your fist upon hearing "Rakshasha Rock"?
x) Hit your hand against the roof of a car when someone has said
'My hand is a Compass'?
x) Laughed hysterically at the mere mention of the words "Sega
Dilbird"?
x) Won a girl?
x) Made an "Aptiva" joke (ie, "Warning, Aptiva"?)
x) Said "Yes, have some" and not been Angela Lathem?
x) Wanted to make a "Silent Knight" homepage?
F. Clique history
x) Played Magic: The Gathering at Garcia's on a monday night?
x) Played any sort of game at Tori's house before 1995?
x) Played Tetris at Garcia's?
x) Been to an SCA meeting at Garcia's?
x) Been made fun of by a drunken Striker?
x) Been made fun of by a non-drunken Striker?
x) Stolen Magic Cards?
x) Remember the days when Drew wrote Beherit mods?
x) Remember all of Tranzik Toffee's first releases?
x) Remember when Drew placed the final pattern of Tornado.mtm,
reaching the MultiTracker limit?
x) Played Blox?
x) Played Blox two player?
x) Thought Blox two player was better than Tetris two player?
x) Been oppressed by Garth Bock, Scott Kuntzelman or Jesus?
x) Played "Move the Ogre"?
x( Wondered why that parenthesis was the wrong direction?
x() OH GOD! UNHAPPY DRUNK GUY
x) Kissed (or been kissed by) Amanda
x) Ate pudding naked while listening to a U4ia mod?
x) Masturbated with General Tso's chicken?
x) Thought about Bob Kalmbach once or twice a month?
x) Shaved your dick?
x) Participated in an infamous "Rubber band fight" at Tori's house?
x) Bought any CDs at Appletree?
G. Insulting
x) Told Jon to shut the fuck up?
x) Told Erik that the Lion King is stupid?
x) Told Drew to shut the fuck up and get over it?
x) Told Mike that he is a spineless jellyfish?
x) Told Jake that he has a gay haircut?
x) Told Ghort that his girlfriend had taken it up the ass from Erik?
x) Told Vanir that he has a crank on his head?
x) Told Jessica that she is an elf?
x) Told Cohen that he's driving too slowly?
x) Told Rick that he is asian?
x) Told Jamesy that he is not funny?
x) Told Becky she is stupid and naive?
x) Told Phil to quit spitting on you?
x) Told Talan that he was a fucking idiot for some woman-related
problem?
x) Told Murmur that no-one cares what label has "Mr. One-Eye Food
Head"?
x) Talked to RJ?
x) Told Dr. One that he looks sober?
x) Told Tori to "take it like a man"?
x) Gotten anywhere near Rich?
H. Misogyny
x) Known what misogyny means?
x) Felt hate towards a woman because she was a woman?
x) Marked a date after which you would never speak to women again?
x) Wielded the skull ring?
x) Beheld the power of the skull ring?
x) Given someone mono with the skull ring?
x) Received mono from someone with the skull ring?
x) Taken the skull ring from Springfield?
x) Been looked down on by Drew for having a girlfriend?
x) Dated someone Drew's been in love with?
x) Been wanted by a girl who Drew's been in love with?
x) Been attacked by Drew upon publishment of feelings of said
woman?
x) Wondered what these questions have to do with misogyny?
x) Been destroyed by a woman and hated women for it?
x) Wondered why there are no questions about Brett on this list?
x) Understood that that last question contradicted itself?
x) Fucked with, fucked over with, or been fucked over with Megan
Geigner?
x) Been fucked over by Philosophiclezuehrfzdkuhssjdf?
x) Know who Timo Veepaaala is?
x) Correlated Mod-Ripping with Misogyny?
x) Added questions gratuitiously?
I. Grill E'zine
x) Read Grill?
x) Read more than Three issues of Grill?
x) Written an article for Grill?
x) Been mentioned in Grill?
x) Been the main subject of an article in Grill?
x) Been made fun of in Grill?
x) Had sex with other Grill writers (OOPS, we're not DTO! HA!!!)?
x) Had a Grill writer fondle your breasts? Or been a Grill writer
and fondled someone's breasts who reads Grill?
x) Submitted something for Grill that was refused?
x) Counted less than five spelling errors in one of Jon's articles?
x) Been able to read anything Erik has ever written?
x) Suggested a topic for the next issue?
x) Been laughed at when you suggested a topic?
x) Suggested a topic that is ALWAYS used? (women)
x) Come up with the idea for Grill?
x) Argued that Jon stole your idea?
x) Argued that Phil stole your idea?
x) Been plageurized by Jon?
x) Been Jon?
x) Thought that plageurized with a U is a pretenshus frenche
spelinge?
x) Wished that everything were spelled with extra "e"s at the end?
J. Goat-Spiel
x) Listened to Goat-Spiel?
x) Attended Goat-Spiel?
x) Taped Goat-Spiel?
x) Made a pirate joke on Goat-Spiel?
x) Stayed in the studio during a Kroger Run to hit on chicks?
x) Stayed in the studio during a Kroger Run by force?
x) Programmed anything in the WESN studio?
x) Wanted to kill Jamesy?
x) Been the subject of an on-air discussion on Goat-Spiel?
x) Had a song dedicated to you?
x) Been dedicated to in a song?
x) Had to find a FUCKING FAITH NO MORE CART
x) Had a girl request Faith No More every week for months?
x) Wished Inna-Gadda-Da-Vidda would last forever?
x) Suggested a song that Phil H. threw you on the floor for?
x) Suggested he play Michael Jackson?
x) Been a dickhead and stopped the Kroger Run song while alone?
x) Been a dickhead and played CHAIR HOG?
x) Played footsie with Carrie Ames?
x) Licked Carrie Ames' clit on the air?
x) Been a microphone hog?
x) Hated the microphone hogs but not had the balls to do anything
about it?
x) Wondered why nobody likes the song "Millenium" by Killing Joke
anymore?
x) Wondered why Jon still likes that song?
x) Wondered who the P.E. Teacher who requested the Killing Joke
song "Millenium" was?
x) Wondered why there were so many questions about "Millenium" by
Killing Joke are on the test?
x) Thought Jon was in love with you because he was looking at you?
x) Attempted to kill someone during Drew & Jessica's "Love Hour"?
x) Been accosted by security while outside Goat-Spiel?
x) Stopped going to Goat-Spiel permanently?
x) Stopped going to Goat-Spiel permanently because of this test?
K. This Test Overall
x) Felt dirty while taking this test?
x) Wondered why these questions are all geared towards Drew, Jon,
and Phil?
x) Taken this test while on a boat over 3000 pounds, while having
your penis sucked by Crank?
x) Listened to springar.mod?
x) Sneezed a lot while editing this text file?
x) Wondered why you bothered taking this test?
x) Had Brett call you while you finished up the test?
EL SCORING
Scoring is simple. There are 200 questions on this test. Take the
number you answered "Yes" to, divide it by 2, and you have your
percentage.
Then, compare your scores here:
PERCENTAGE SCORE||CLIQUE NOTORIETY POSITION
----------------||-------------------------
||
100||Striker
95-99||Quarex
90-94||Swiss Pope
85-89||Kreeg
80-84||Spirit
75-79||Ghort
70-74||Hrothgar
65-69||Ogre
60-64||Hate-Ball
55-59||Captain Rat
50-54||Vanir
45-49||Dr. One
40-44||Ranger Rick
35-39||Kurt
30-34||Brett (either one?)
25-29||Owen
20-24||RJ
15-19||Murmur
10-14||Angela Lathem
05-09||Glynis
00-04||Any other woman
This chart is about as exact as charts get.
Well, not at all. But, it does indicate in general how familiar you are
with our clique, and how many times you can expect to be beaten
personally by Satan when we all go to hell together.
And if you are on the chart, and score differently than the score I have
listed for you, then YOU TOOK THE TEST WRONG. DO IT AGAIN.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
ask clyde! for the last fucking time!
by clyde <clyde@zork.net>
welcome to "ask clyde!" for the last fucking time, ask clyde is
an anonymous, free advice service! do you need free advice! i will
answer your fucking questions! i also give advice on how to fight crime!
i am a crime-fighting superhero when i'm not sitting at my computer
answering your fucking questions! remember folks -- crime does not pay!
don't you agree!
clyde is on the world wide web! please visit
http://www.clydecrimefighter.com/ ! if you don't find anything exciting
there, then check back in two months!
in this issue, blas kindly requests that we chop his head off,
jill offers me the world and more, tom thinks about chocolate cake and
says something else, paul talks chemistry, bart does laundry and has a
ball, and jay ventures into e-business!
for the last fucking time, folks, i am happy to answer your
questions! let's go for it!
[+++]
> Dear Clyde:
>
> I live in Florida. On election day, I attempted to write you in on my
> ballot, but since it was all so confusing, I have no idea if I did it
> correctly. How many votes did you get, in the end?
>
> Blas
dear blas!
haha! american election jokes! bwahahah!
i'm going to say this just once, so listen carefully!
fuck off!
fuck off!
so what! i went back on my word and said it twice! now listen!
don't dare expose your nose in my town, or you'll find it to be broken!
clyde
[+++]
> Dear Clyde:
>
> If you were stranded on an island, what three things would you want to
> have with you?
>
> Jill
jill!
i like your name, but i don't know why!
here are three things i would like to have with me!
1) i would like a fully e-commerce enabled desktop computer with a
network operating system! lately, i find the power and flexibility of the
linux operating system to be both promising and rewarding! i can "click"
on the "pager" to switch "virtual desktops" so i can run applications like
a web browser, an x terminal for email, and yet another web browser!
perhaps i can also have a session of irc! sometimes i like to talk to
people! i can perform e-commerce transactions at my leisure! and since
most e-business shops prefer visa, i'm all set with my $500 limit, $0
annual fee, 14.9% introductory apr visa card from the fine folks at
nextcard dot com!
2) i would need to have with me a shopping center that includes such
facilities as: a 24-hour grocery store! a fast-food restaurant! a post
office! a deli sandwich shop! an ice cream shop! a film-processing
operation! a store that sells cheap blue jeans! lots of parking!
obviosly, as i visit such establishments several times a week, i would
need to continue doing this! if you don't mind, throw in a radio shack
or a circuit city too! this way, i can also watch a bit of television! i
watch tv for the great commercials!
3) finally, i would require a red, convertible, fuel-efficient,
cd-player-equipped, automatic-transmission sports car! why do i want this,
you ask! because certainly whoever is going to supply me with these items
of my dreams would never give me just the car! they would give me an
entire freeway system! it would be the fastest road in the world! only i
would drive on it! it would be immaculately maintained! the yellow lines
would be boldly yellow! the white lines would be strikingly white! the
road would be one lane wide and not be one-way! i could do a u-turn and
still be in the same lane! i wouldn't even have to flip anyone off! no
more danger from staring at oncoming headlights! no more tricky lane
changes or risky passing maneuvers! no more getting pulled over by an
aging, balding, overweight american citizen in a gas-guzzling television
show on wheels! the lane lines on this freeway would also be marked with
evenly-spaced reflective bumps! this makes driving at night easy, safe,
and pleasurable! the crosswalks would be wherever i wanted to park the
car and walk across the pristine, black tar roadway! the gas stations
would be airborne refueling crafts, designed to fulfill my needs anywhere,
at a moment's notice! the roadway would be high in the sky and offer
stunning views of the surrounding terrain! perhaps there would be an
extensive bridgeway out across the water! of course, there would be
hundreds and hundreds of garages along the way, so i could park my car
anywhere i wanted to! i would just stop driving, roll the baby into the
nearest garage, and keep it out of the harmful effects of weather!
please call me before you swing by to take me to the island! i'll
have to send a few email messages, and find someone to take care of my
plants!
clyde
[+++]
> Dear Clyde:
>
> I'm hopelessly addicted to my electric piano! You see, I used to be a
> work-at-home contractor, and well, sometimes I was able to get the work
> done much sooner than anyone expected. So obviously I had to do
> something else to fill the day! But now that I sit around in a dank
> basement office all day, I can't sneak away to stroke the keys. What
> should I do!?
>
> Tom
dear tom!
i'm sensing some kind of deeper meaning here than you are willing
to share! perhaps this is some kind of story about your fear of chocolate
cake! after all, it is proven that one out of every sixty seven thousand
adult men are afraid of chocolate cake! the most common method of
self-treatment is repression! by filling one's mind with other thoughts,
chocolate cake is forced out of your mind! is this what you are doing
here!
if not, tom, then for god's sake, consider taking long lunch breaks
so you can pluck a few notes! hell, i love music too! music is not a
crime! skateboarding -- now there's a crime!
clyde
> Dear Clyde:
>
> All of a sudden, my friends have turned into mad scientists! They're
> always inviting me to their homes in order to participate in hideous
> chemical experiments. One acquaintance of mine is trying to figure
> out -- get this -- how to bring dead pets back to life. Another friend
> wants to grow cocktail umbrellas from his scalp, and he's been mixing
> toxins with Miracle Gro. Should I forget these freaks and find new
> friends?
>
> Paul
dear paul!
i am very amused! please have your friends email me! i would like
to discuss with them, for example, some of the methods i have devised for
categorically storing and later recovering animal parts in the earth! as
you know, earth storage of animal remains is a very effective process that
encourages rapid decomposition along with promoting regional plant growth!
there's this whole food chain thing taking place, and frankly, i'm linked!
so please, tell me more about your friends! do they like vanilla cream
soda! do they enjoy "trance" music! do they like exotic cocktails! what
books do they enjoy reading! do they like outdoor adventures! bike
riding! hiking! road trips! an afternoon at the beach! a picnic! a
stroll through the park! a trip to the aquarium supply store!
you know! one time, i was at this aquarium supply store with some
friends! i stared at this salt-water tank for a long time! there were
these two pretty large fish inside! one of them kept swimming around and
turning to stare at me! and i just watched and watched and watched and
watched in fascination! it was a very surreal moment! and then right
about when i was going to leave -- now, you'll have to believe me on
this -- the fish winked at me!
clyde
> Dear Clyde:
>
> For the past month or so, I've been using the wondrous Downy Ball to add
> fabric softener to my laundry at just the right time! (Don't tell
> anyone, but I've actually been filling it with Snuggle.) Now, I
> understand how the contraption works and all, but it is kind of
> mysterious to empty my washed clothes, and find the Downy Ball, now with
> its plug open, but filled with water, *exactly* to the fill line! It
> does this *every* fucking time! How does this happen?!
>
> Bart
dear bart!
let me tell you a story! this story is chock full of clyde fun!
about three years ago, i started getting serious about fighting
crime! i sought out crime in all its forms, in hopes to eliminate it! do
you know what i found!
lots and lots of crime! everywhere!
i went to the grocery store and stole some notebooks and pens! i
took careful notes of all the crimes i observed around me! people boarding
the bus without paying the fare! random street people walking in to
restaurants to use the bathrooms without buying anything! people trying
to sell stolen merchandise! successful attempts of automobile
vandalization! banner advertising on the web! novels with no plot!
toilets that don't flush! rough toilet paper! head cheese! flammable
bedding! uneven sidewalks! spoiled milk! thin paper plates! fatty
snacks! fatboy slim! long waiting lines at nice restaurants! overpaid
slackers! dirty pants! buses that are thirty minutes late! rice candy
that tastes so good but lasts for only a few seconds! grocery stores that
close at night! fake buddha statues! my gay friend who is in love with
savage garden!
then, of course, with my notebooks full of carefully compiled cases
of crime, i set out to eliminate these crimes! i started to develop an
anti-crime web site! you can visit it too! just go to
www.clydecrimefighter.com with your internet web browser!
crime fighting is never easy! people always want to prevent me
from doing my work! some of them want to eliminate me! but it is my hope
that even if i am eliminated, my crime-fighting web site will live on!
so, in conclusion, i think your downy ball is working just fine!
the water levels inside the opened downy ball upon completion of your most
excellent laundry procedures is merely a coincidence! please do not be
embarrassed to share stories like this one in the future! we're all here
to help you! clean, soft, static-free, fresh-smelling clothes are never a
crime! enjoy the results of your most excellent work!
clyde
> Dear Clyde:
>
> Can you help me with my new problem? I just released version 1.0 of my
> new e-commerce site, www.dc5.org, on the WEB. But I am not getting many
> customers! Yo what's the deal? I have banners and everything. Is it
> because I am not a dot.com? What can I do to attract buyers and get $$?
>
> Jay
dear jay!
i have visited your site, and i must say: bzzzt! first of all!
have you considered trying to sell something! you of course realize that
the dot-org space is not where you want to be! although! for example!
tourian.org is trying to revamp the dot org scene! there is a slight
chance that you can turn your joke of a business into a successful online
venture! but i'm talking slight! you know how you put your thumb and
pointer finger together as if you're about to pinch someone! that's the
kind of chance i'm talking about! the chance as indicated by the slim
amount of space in between these two fingers!
however, i do have to offer my sincere appreciation for your fine
multimedia products! i had no idea that quickbasic could do such
magnificent things on my pentium-class computer!
[+++]
well folks! they tell me this is the end! i have to pack up the
shit from my office and get the hell out! working out of a cardboard box
is always difficult, but i'll find a new job soon! fear not! i will
continue sharing my thoughts in another online forum! remember --
http://www.clydecrimefighter.com/ is where you want to be!
for the last fucking time, please send me your questions! email
me at clyde@zork.net if you so please!
have a great day!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Date: Thu, 05 Oct 2000 21:50:22 GMT
From: Unrelated <unrelatedhoe@hotmail.com>
To: mogel@hoe.nu
Subject: My wasted summer
For the past 5 months I've been stuck in small town fucking Iowa
for one reason, and the reason sucks. I would like not to mention the
reason however for this file to make sense you must all know the reason.
the reason is this, I still care about people too much.
One of my best friends is haveing a marital crisis. He's 22 years
old, he's on his second marriage/divorce and there is a 18 month child
involved in what might turn out to be a very messy custoduy battle. Now I
haven't left yet because my friend has needed moral support from anybody
and it seems the rest of our friends just kind of ditched out.
For these past five months i've been doing almost nothing but
getting drunk, going hungry and hanging out in nudy bars. Hell, one frisky
night back in July one of my friends, Danny, decided to come up and visit
Rick and I for a couple of days, well, lucky for us he had just gotten
paid that day. i had been dropped off at my mother's house in Waterloo, IA
to go to sleep.
wait a sec. here's one for ya' my mother owns a house in Waterloo,
after my parents had gotten a divorce and all the moeny was split up, my
mother decided to go and buy a house in waterloo, however, she currently is
borderline broke and is living in Chicago with some friends. My brothers
were going to live in the house during the summer and pay the bills.
Neither one of them ended up getting jobs or paying any bills. Instead
they decided to sit in the basement with their friends and get high and
drunk every night, waking up in the morning, going out and playing frisbee
golf, then later getting high and drunk.
right after the divorce my father and I went on a road trip to
chicago and then on to detroit(ugly city that needs to be napalmed) during
the trip my dad said to me, "Son, I need to find a woman with a bar and a
jeep." Right now my dad is probably serving beer to middle aged men and
women in the bar that his girlfriend owns.
anyways, after I had just gotten to sleep not 4 hours later my
brother somes knocking at my room door telling me to wake up. My friends
had shown up and had decided to drive down to Des Moines to go to Big Earls
Gold Mine, the only nudy bar within 100 miles that Dan could get into.
Apparently at this "juice bar" if you got a private dance you weren't just
getting a lap dance you were getting a hooker who worked cheap. Well, I
only had a set amount of cash flow so I just sat back and got dollar dances
all night. The radio was broke so on the ride home the three of us did our
best to remember words to songs and did our damndest to sing the words
that we could remember. All of this, on a doughnut.
Did I forget to mention that during these last five months i've
done more roleplaying than any human should be submitted to. Ad&d, Vampire,
Aberant, WereWolf.....the list ends there unless you count Magic:The Crack
Addiction in which case please shoot me for I have committed a sin against
myself and against my faith that a card game, no matter what card game it
is can and shall never be considered an RPG.
Help me.....god someone, please help me, all of my dreams and hopes
for the year have been flushed down the toilet, and none of my goals have
yet been met, I have but one left, one goal that I still hold true to
myself, and that is to be in New Orleans for new years eve 2001, i pray
that at least this one simple task may be accomplished or forevermore i
will be sorry that i didn't make it and probably grow up with some twisted
mental disability that makes me eat hotdogs on friday.
So basically this last 5 months has been wasted on nothing but
alcohol and nudy bars. What a life.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
ASCII GENRE? by Phorce
hi guys. mogel tells me i should write something for the last HOE.
i guess i'll try. the problem is, i'm still stuck deciding whether or not
i should use uppercase letters. there was a while when no one used
uppercase (god, DTO was so pretentious, don't you think?), and the effect
was to lend an appearance of higher artistic worth to what you'd in any
other context simply label "really crappy short stories by the excessively
angsty."
in any case, the rule was, use all lowercase EXCEPT when want to add
extra stress to a word, or when you want to highten the contrast of an
unexpected added clause to a sentence, YOU DIRTY BITCH. you see how it
works? i'm not sure, but i think this style arose from a desire to "stick
it to the man" and his traditional notions of uppercase. you know? FUCK
THE SYSTEM, MAN!#!#!# AN4RCHY F0R3V3R!#!#$#! sorry.
i find the "ASCII zine style" very interesting; i feel it's rather
underrated and too easily dismissed by highbrow types. it's more than
just tYPiNG LiKe THiS -- you see, we were taking a cue from, uhm, the
style of modern poetry, especially that of e.e. cummings, the first
founder of an e-text "style" with his unconventional use of the
typewriter's idiosyncracies. where cummings took the typewriter's
parentheses and other symbols and used them as an essential part of his
poetry's style, we e-zine kids have similarly taken ASCII -- which, like
the typewriter, was created not for stylistic reasons but rather as a tool
to aid communication and construction of the written word -- and liberated
it from its humdrum trappings into a form of high art!
--( you're ridiculous. )-------------------------------------------------
perhaps i am, mr. divider man, but you're providing a perfect example of
the idiomatic uses of ASCII text i'm talking about!@##!# you see what i
mean?
i guess so. but it still seems like
@!@@ like a bit of a stretch to me. most
| 0o of the e-zines i've read don't
d s contain high art, it's more like the ___ ___
| o -- ramblings of a few angsty kids. what / __\!@@!@!#/__ \
|| do you think, mr. elephant man? | |__>| O O |<__| |
\___/| | | |\___/
yeah, last time i checked, your __\| |/
so-called "high art" was some |_____|
midwestern teen whining about how /
much life sucks when you spend all
your spare time in front of a
computer chatting with your "real
friends" who also know what it's
like when you don't "fit in." i
@!@@ mean, wtf? get a life! brb.
| Oo
d s LOL! ROTFL!!@#!! you're funny but cruel,
| o -- mr. elephant man! still, i think maybe just
|| a few of those kids are actually very smart,
creative people who, had it not been for
the computer, wouldn't have found an outlet
for their creative energies? perhaps they
were drawn to computers for precisely this
reason -- to produce new and exciting art?
for example, take kreid, probably one of the
best writers of the ASCII zine scene, who
started out as just another ANSI art kiddie,
but formed an e-zine, and soon discovered his
immense talent for creative writing?
@!@@ ... -- (elephant: afk)
| 0o
d s
| o -- you there, mr. elephant man?
||
sorry, back. i guess that's
possible, but most literature is ___ ___
written on computers anyway these / __\!@@!@!#/__ \
days, right? it's only the | |__>| O O |<__| |
biggest nerds that start wr1t1ng \___/| | | |\___/
3l33t e-t3xt l1k3 th1s. ASCII zine __\| |/
style wasn't created by real -- |_____|
writers -- it was created by k-rAD
h4x0r geeks and computer nerds.
their idea of funny are those
asinine "BOFH" stories.
@!@@
| 0o yes, but computers are so widely used nowadays
d s that it's not just the supergeeks who are
| o -- finding out how they can get published in e-zines.
|| you could even call e-zines a precursor to the
world wide web and the "self-publishing revolution"
that futurists are always proclaiming will end
the publishing and recording industries. right?
--( stop! stop already! )-----------------------------------------------
sorry. those two could go on arguing forever. the point i think
i'm trying to make is that although ASCII style and the first e-zines arose
from the realm of the BBS and the "misunderstood, lone nerd teen"
stereotype, it has come a long way since then and established itself as a
real expressive medium.
one of the best examples of this was the selection of several
e-zines (including "y0lk" and Jonas) for display at an exhibit called
"alt.youth.media" at the New Museum for Contemporary Art, New York City in
fall 1996. i attended the exhibit's opening as a writer for y0lk -- i was
at the tender age of sixteen then -- and couldn't get over the way they
triumphed the e-zine as a valid art form. we were up to y0lk #99 then,
and if you've read any of those issues, you'll probably understand my awe
that *anyone* would consider that stuff museum-worthy.
the rest of the e-zines in the exhibit were mostly webzines -- which
brings us to the subject of the internet and the "world wide web." you
will agree that ASCII zines were not born of the era of hypertext and
flashy graphics. my era's e-zines were designed for viewing on a 80x25
console screen: anything else still just doesn't look right to me.
viewing ASCII text files in a web browser is in my opinion the worst form
of heresy, like selling "virtual museum" CD-ROM's featuring digitized,
pixelated images of paintings -- you're not seeing the real detail, how
the author intended it to look.
[an aside: i've recently been working on a web frontend to an
"ASCII to GIF" program and have been applying it to everyone's favorite
e-zine, y0lk. you'll see my attempts as a curator of sorts at
www.y0lk.org.]
but not like it matters anymore. now, with the world wide web, you
can lay out text and images unlike anyone in the old text BBS scene
would've ever imagined -- in fact, our little ASCII 'toons would today
simply become inlined images on a webpage!
xxxxx
|o.o| -- you mean i'm OBSOLETE?
\O/
\|/
yup. sorry.
xxxxx
|o.o| -- shit.
\-/
\|/
\ | /
- poof! -
/ | \
so that's the problem. the era of ASCII zines seems to be drawing
to a close. and now, with this, the "last HOE" (though we've all heard
that claim before in HOE #90), we come one step closer to the end.
interest in ASCII zines now seems to be mostly nostalgic -- textfiles.com
and etext.org serve as archives, not as publishing centers. new ASCII
zines are still being produced, but the "web" is slowly taking over --
after all, ASCII e-zines have to be published via the web now (rather than
BBS's, IRC transfers, or FTP), so it's no a great hurdle to convert them
to pretty-looking web documents. hell, even the cDc started formatting
their textfile releases as webpages. modern ASCII zines are quickly
becoming what new ANSI art releases have become -- a "retro" nostalgic
look back at the days of "old school."
and that's too bad. because i sure did like the ASCII zine style.
there was always something very exciting about it to me; something about
how each letter seemed trapped inside the console font's 8x16 pixel block,
and how ASCII art and zine layout seemed to defeat that confinement and
exploit those shapes for new purposes.
and, although i was only involved in the "e-zine scene" for a
relatively short period of time, i sometimes still wax nostalgic about
those days -- of going on BBS's to download new zines, reading new posts
on y0lknet and net-spiel; hanging out in #zines; starting "confs," giving
out the konf infos, and talking to everyone until the guys from #hack got
the inf0ez and started "toning" the conf; spending all day editing a new
release of RAD, or packaging up new y0lks and publishing them; printing
out copies of DTO or Jonas on so many pages of that dot-matrix paper with
the holes on the side that i needed a new printer ribbon.
goodbye, and thank you HOE. and while i'm at it, goodbye and thank
you, ASCII! it was fun to read and write for ASCII zines when i was a
teenager. now i am doing new and different things and slightly older now.
so bye!
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@@@
@@@@@@@@@ .,o0o,. ,o0o,
@@@@@@@ X 0 0 0 /--------------\
@@@@@ XX 00 00 00 | Elite HOE |
@@@ XX 00o o00 00 | ASCII ART |
@ XX 000000 00 | by |
XX 00""00 00 | Phractal |
XX 00 00 00 \--------------/
X _______0 0______0
o0$$$$$$$$$$$0o
XX XX
XX XX
XX /------\ XX
XX | | XX
XX \------/ XX
XX XX
XX XX
XX_______________XX cDc
o0$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$0o,
XX 00\
XX ------------\ 0|
XXX /_____$ \00/
XXX _____$$
XXX \ $
XX ------------/00\
XX 0|
Xoooooooooooooooo00/
I felt I needed to express myself, but I didn't know to who.
Well, since HOE has always been open to thought and expression, and since
this is the last issue, I thought why not? Hey, by the way, like my
ascii? Enjoy the lameness.
I consider myself to be an active person in the hacker community.
I have contributed to several magazines with articles of lameness. One
thing I've learned, and anyone who has been in the scene for at least two
years knows, the deeper you get into the scene, the more you find out you
don't know shit.
I joined the scene sometime in late '97 early '98. You know what I
was doing for a long time? I was searching for the PERFECT TEXT FILE. What
you ask? Yes, that's right, THE PERFECT TEXT FILE. Yeah, you see, I
remember reading my first textfile, which was written by elite Legion of
Doom member The Mentor: "A Novice's Guide to Hacking: 1989 Edition".
1989? Well, I suppose I could learn something from this text. I tried to
follow the methods in that file to attempt my first hack, but unfortunatly,
the methods were too dated, and a little thing called the internet was now
the prime source of hacking fun in this day and age.
I searched for another 'Complete Guide to Hacking' text. No, I
didn't want a text about blueboxing! No! I didn't want a text about Novell
Netware! No! I didn't want a text about hacking webpages! I wanted the
whole thing! The big enchalada! I wanted to be a hacker overnight! The
first real step I took was war dialing my local prefix to look for
interesting numbers. OK, I found some carriers! OK, now what?
I couldn't do anything. Why? Cuz I didn't know shit! That's right!
I opened the door myself to the world of hacking, and it was once I opened
that door, I had a whole new set of doors to walk through.
One thing that clearly became evident over the years in my quest for
eleetness was the fact that if I was to excell in the hacker world, or be
an expert in computers, I would have to learn UNIX. I had looked through
PHUN, Phrack and cDc issues, and I see UNIX mentioned as far back as the
mid-eighties. I saw the word UNIX everywhere. I didn't know what UNIX was,
it was just another thing I thought I could never master.
UNIX was everywhere. I tried to avoid UNIX becuase it seemed too
complex for my understanding. So, I went looking for other stuff. IP
Spoofing, hmm, that's an interesting idea, I'll try that. The article I
read about IP spoffing mentions 'I expect you to know generally how TCP/IP
and UNIX work'. Damn I thought! Can't IP spoof! Damn UNIX! OK, how about
hacking webpages? Well, I needed to get the UNIX password file to do that,
damn UNIX! OK, what about running some of these expoits I see here? Damn,
it requires UNIX! arg!
I turned to phones for a while giving up hacking entirely for the
better part of a year. Phreaking was a cool hobby. I got to tinker with my
home phones and do things with them, I would have previously thought
impossible. I made free calls. Whoop de do! I got some voicemails. I
scanned some more. Eventually I turned back to hacking.
I finally broke down and got UNIX on my computer (Slackware Linux).
I have since enjoyed it greatly over windows. Once I had UNIX, again, I
was like, OK, What's next? I Don't know shit again!
The point of this article, as I said before was, that the deeper
you get, the more you find out that you don't know shit. But you should
always keep active. Currently, I am making my linux box into a shell and
web server to see what it would be like administering something like that.
Don't give up in the hacker world. It can be trying, but I think
that in the end, you will be very well educated in the field of computers,
and hopefully you will also have a whole bunch of 'undergound friends'.
After time, you change your overall goals of hacking. Why did you
become interested in hacking in the first place? Well, quite honestly, I
wanted to rip off companies and get money in to my bank account all by
hacking! Wouldn' that be cool!!
Well, now I think that is not cool. I almost don't even want to
'hack' anymore by anyones standards. I just like learning and administering
my computer and how it works. I really am not interested anymore in taking
over anyone else's computer. Unless, I fell like it of course :)
I've had my ups and downs in the hacker world, and I after
everything I've learned, I know that I am still ignorant of too much shit,
and I don't know anything.
But at least I try!
[---------------------------------------------------------- --- -- -
DEAD PLASTIC DREAM by Cap'n Sparky
I
Live jackal sky smoke expensive marijuana porking cooly bubblegum trellis
tennis courts steaming turd screwdrivers kill squamose Shub-Niggurath
backwards dullards "clockers" 4.532 gate ghetto-blaster fireflies.
II
bugger Captain Kirk Sally the Pig incinerate "fuckalamedoo" Harvey Keitel
anus leprechaun
III
The silly electric pig screamed upside down. The round kissing car barked
too loud. The excited polka-dot boy barked at night. The round candy clown
smiled very fast. The striped polka-dot girl screamed at once. The round
invisible girl flew sideways. The tiny electric girl flew too loud.
IV
The far useless soul broken
The dead plastic dream
All jumbled living careening
Going to soul ruin
Asphyxiate things after aimless careening life
Fuck new embrace
All thought broken
Dead useless dream come inside
Sweet godless choke
V
color of eyes y eyes?
her head, hair, floral
way i wanted way she
i wanted to wax she
fuck up, fucked up, kissed, lips tongue
VI
He sat at a train station, and thought about love, and about a woman
he had just met. Half of half a billion dreams. "I am not the hand of God,
merely his eyes." There's this key inside my head. Large buildings,
brightly lit, futuristic-looking. New York. Dream concerned tornados,
and a flood.
The way she wished.
Like a razorblade.
Paranoid, careening. The skeleton is on a faded, padded bench next
to the gate in the fence. Infinite birthright. Middle of nowhere. Dead
plastic dream. Knowing I'm loved gives me courage, knowing I'm hated gives
me strength. Choose groups at random, read, and then record results in
journal. If you are an artist of any sort, your help would be appreciated
as well. So what if I did, anyway?
Words on paper in various forms, groups of words, possibly segments
of text.
The tail-end was still green. The excited candy boy flew upside
down. Optimistic. I unlocked it, it was so easy.
Dead plastic dream. He says, "I am Magnum Iron!" I want to be
perfect, ebony, marble, smooth, timeworn. Forgotten feelings erupt. All
the times I wished I'd died. Universe into void. Here it comes again.
I want you to see me. In the middle of nowhere. However, the lawyer
will show up at his normal lunch-hour and curse, because the restaurant is
closed. He will end up with chinese food. I heard you laugh today. I can
turn the fresh air stale.
It is a sawtooth-soundwave. Your madness seethes within me. I point
at him and scream, "YOU!", he turns to run and bumps into a black security
guard. His wife will be overcome with grief and attempt suicide three
times, finally succeeding on the fourth. One into zero. I ran into a
playful solifugid (or at least that's what I called it). The giant kissing
car smiled upside down. He got to the corner and three young teenagers
robbed him, and then killed him.
The trolley tracks are where they found him. Lexington Avenue.
Tight.
Also in this same room, in some sort of alcove, there were two
preying mantises.
You turn the lead into gold. New York, NY.
VII
Between the Devil, Tetris, and a Little Girl.
Make people you like into glamorous supermen, people that go against
you into vicious subhumans. Who could picture "Alice in Wonderland" as a
compressed string of ones and zeroes, "theres" and "not theres"? So, how's
the black-leath bitch of life been treating you?
"We ought never to do wrong when people are looking." - Mark Twain
Notes:
Section I contains the answers from a single "Mad Libs" game played
by myself and a good friend, in delirious wee hours of the morning, back in
1994 or so. Section II contains single answers from several "Mad Libs" games
from the same night, selected at random.
The sentences in Section III were spit out by a children's toy,
designed by Tomy (I think). The toy contained several plastic tiles with
words on them. When flipped upside down, the tiles would form sentences.
The poem in Section IV is made up of words, selected at random, from
my journal. The year of composition was perhaps 1995 or 1996. The fragment
in Section V comes from a page of dense text which I cut into strips and
tossed back together.
For section VI, I selected sentences at random from the journal I
kept between about 1994 and 1996 or so. I ended a paragraph whenever my
finger fell on a blank area on a page. The sentences in Section VII come
from a journal I kept back when I was a junior in high school.
The title was selected randomly from the text of this t-file. It's
strangely appropriate, given the fact that the phrase "Dead Plastic Dream"
appears three times in the body of the text.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
FINAL THOUGHTS by Quarex
So, it is all over. Sure, I should say "about fucking time," but
I have no desire whatsoever to do that. I fucking love H0E, and I always
will. I fucking love the fact that Mogel kept something going for so long
that kept me in the habit of writing for fun. I honestly think I owe at
least some small part of my success as a writer (even if just at a
college-classroom level. . . SO FAR) to this fucking ludicrous little
e-zine. Hell, H0E and the resulting "scene" that collected around it over
the years introduced me to a lot of fucking awesome people, and helped me
get to know others a lot better. Mogel, Tasha, PezMonkey, Miasma, Caitlin,
Drooplug, AnonGirl, Hardkore, Anjee, Thexter, Trilobyte, Styx, Art,
CannibalButterfly, Six, AIDS, Phairgirl, the list can just keep going. I
even got to meet most of them in person! H0E even in a roundabout way
aided me in meeting my first girlfriend, and one of the best friends I
have ever had, Soybean. I refuse to discount the end of this zine as
something completely stupid and meaningless, and disregard everyone
involved in its long history, just because I am supposed to have thought
the entire thing was stupid.
Every single piece of fan mail I got for my writings made my
fucking day for weeks on end. I have to thank Avenger, Cap'n Sparky,
Dan Nagy, Pat Cosgrove, Larry LaCost Jr., and everybody else lost in the
mists of time who ever wrote me with kind words about my writings. For
them, and for everyone else involved with H0E who has ever told me I had
some shred of talent, I simply must say "Thank you."
In possibly the most appropriate ending imaginable to this text, I
will now relay exactly what happened to me as I sat in my Descriptive
English Grammar class, hastily scrawling out this GOODBYE. I briefly
glanced over to the two gorgeous girls near me, and one of them had
written the word "hoe" on a sheet of paper and handed it to the other.
While I guarantee there is no way they were referring to anything they
saw me writing, I believe it suffices to say that the spirit of H0E has
been transferred to the unwitting minds of all those around me, and shall
live forever.
So, that is about it. Fuck off, and die. The End.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
THE DEATH OF TPP by TPP
Why am I bothering to even write this? It doesn't seem like this
final issue of HOE will ever be released, and if it is, no one will bother
reading through a meg of this shit. Fuck it..
For me, the death of HoE represents the end of an era. The final
remnant of the old hax0r scene I was a part of has finally cashed its
check. Before any of you newbies say anything about ezines and hacking,
you have to realize that before the web came around, the two scenes were
inseparable. Textfiles were to hacking as ansi was to warez... But if you
were questioning me, you probably have no idea what ansi is anyway.
Everyone else is gone. I originally left years ago, but that foul
year of the bastard 1999 brought me back. When my life fell apart and all
the blood started gushing out of the countless, open wounds in my back, I
returned to this scene because it was the only other world I knew. What
happened during that 365 day shitrain is unimportant. No one hangs around
this long unless they have personal demons.
I have wasted too much of my life over shit that belongs in the
past and is better off forgotten. It is time to throw out the bottle,
get the fuck off IRC and put my life back together. As HoE dies, so dies
TPP. forever.
Mogel, J arett, Kreid... Perhaps some day we'll get together and
make a movie..
And to all those fools on IRC that didn't understand the
occasional drunken parody of myself, fuck off...
You know, HOE can never truly die so long as IRC dorks wait for hours
on end, desperately hoping for a flash of Metalchick's underwear...
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Contrast & Compare
The Fall of...
THE ROMAN EMPIRE [] HOGS OF ENTROPY
||
POLITICAL CORRUPTION: || EDITOR CORRUPTION:
The emperor's throne would ==== Mogel traditionally made
be sold to the highest bidder. || other's do the work for him
|| (Phairgirl, AIDS, Meenk)
CHRISTIANITY: ||
Constantly in state of debate || CHRISTIANITY:
over state versus moral values. || Kreid was born again.
||
||
VANDALS INVADED: || LIFE INVADED:
0000000000000
Several outsider 0000000000000000000 Several HOE writers
"barbarian" groups 0000000000000000000000000 realized there were
breached the 00000000000 00000000000 several other
weakened Roman 0000000000000 HOE 00000000000000 "barbariac"
defences. 000000000000000 0000000000000000 things to do.
000000000000000000000000O00000000000000000
We won't get into the lead cups.
When I watch the learning channel sometimes I get real sad. You know,
that show had so much potential back when they were doin' the good ol'
"SAFE" thing with animals. Not that that gets the ratings, of course,
but every now and then some druggie kid would tell me they watched that
thing and it brought a tear to my eye.
Remember before you got a job and started sucking?
Now they've got these UFO specials on there and you can *hear* the
awkward silences of pure irony and distain in their voices. Betcha
those guys remember the good ol' days. A few years ago.
I think the good ol' days are actually only worth lamenting if you're
using it to fuel something new. In case you're on the same page here,
text files are the same way. Use the style to evolve, or get lost.
My grandpa used to say THESE TEXT FILES TODAY UGHHAA I CAN'T READ 'EM
YA KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS IS THAT THESE 'ZINE WRITERS AIN'T GOT NO
SENSE OF HISTORY IT'S LIKE, YOU SAY "CDC" TO THEM AND THEY'RE LIKE
"WHO?" AND I'M LIKE "CDC ARE LEGENDS!!!" IT'S JUST FAST FOOD AND
QUINTINA TARANTINO TO THEM but he's wrong. All you need is HOE.
That's right. Re-read our entire archive of 1,111 text files.
They're a part our history, preserved, in all it's insanity and
embarassing glory. Each word, ESPECIALLY in this final issue has
some clever little irony and meaning behind it. IF YOU DON'T GET IT,
READ IT AGAIN. IT'S ALL IN HERE LIKE SOME MYSTERY PUZZLE JUST WAITING
FOR YOU TO DISCOVER ALL IT'S INTRICATE PARTS WOVEN TOGETHER LIKE
A FANTASTIC ASCII TAPESTRY.
And if any of you assholes try to start this thing up again, I'll
kill you with my bare hands.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
-- ---------------------- C U T H E R E ---------------------- --
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
This is the exclusive offer those lucky few of you who have both:
(A) actually read through this entire issue (or skipped to the end), and
(B) have _3_ or more single HOE text file released in HOE's history.
If the above applies, just e-mail in this coupon (copy and paste it into
your mail reader) to mogel@hoe.nu with the following info: your handle,
your full name, your best email address, your snail mail address, and a
rating from 1-10 on how much you love Mogel.
What's this a coupon for? Why, it's a special "Mogel Owes You A Cinema
Favor" pass, good for a lifetime. If you're one of the lucky few that
get one of these passes, one day in the far future you'll be able to
collect a cinematic favor from Mogel when he's rich and famous. This
will be a fantastic way to annoy him.
This is serious.
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
-- ---------------------- C U T H E R E ---------------------- --
:: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::
Presenting joy and cleverness through understood bullshit.
The E-ziner's E-zine, Where Piggies Frolic
______
6/ ^..^ Be sincere. Persevere.
@ @ @ @ @ \ ___ (oo) @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @
\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ WW WW \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu, contact: hoe@hoe.nu -> 12/25/00
Reference in New Issue View Git Blame Copy Permalink