251 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
251 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
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*-* *-*
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*-* *-*
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*-* TTTTTTTTTT AAAAAA NNNN N J *-*
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*-* T A A N N N J *-*
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*-* T AAAAAAAAAA N N N J *-*
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*-* T A A N N N J J *-*
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*-* T A A N NNNN JJJJJ *-*
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*-* *-*
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*-* There Ain't No Justice *-*
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*-* #08 *-*
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*-* *-*
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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*-* Phoenix Modernz Inc. 908/830-8265 *-*
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-I couldn't think of a name. So there.-
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by Hairy Leech
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---
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a few quick notes before i get underway:
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..i refuse to capitalize anything.
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..i refuse to abide by the rules of modern english. in other words, i am
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not known to use paragraphs correctly, and i don't always state a complete
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thought. (well, i don't always have a complete thought to state, damn it.)
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..spelling is my enemy, and you will notice how sometimes it overcomes me.
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..a plot is a useless thing in my mind. i just say things.
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---
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ok. with that out of the way, i will begin my babble-fest.
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i was churning about on cyber chat when tal meta dribbled something about me
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writing a text file. well, here i am. i don't know what the hell he plans to
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do with this thing, and i don't know what i'm writing about. i suppose we'll
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see when this is all over and done with.
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so here i sit, my white rump sitting atop my spiffy plastic molded chair. as
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i glance around i see this piece of bubble yum bubble gum. (what a name!)
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nice wrapper. sort of like a plastic-coated paper. i think i'll ingest it.
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the gum, that is. did you know i am notorious for swallowing gum? i bet you
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didn't. if i didn't swallow it, i'd probably die of starvation. i thrive on
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swallowed gum. anyhow, this gum has far too much sugar in it. just another
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sign of our gloomy modern america. always trying to make everything nice and
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sweet and easy to swallow for us poor dumb patriotic lackys. the lies go down
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oh, so much better when you coat them with sugar, don't you think?
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"i can't get this box off my head!"
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i never finished reading this long and droopy book called "friendly fascism."
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what a clod i am. i paid like good, worth-a-lot money for it. i mean like
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something approaching $15-20. it's amazing the amount they charge for books
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nowadays. it's like, they can't burn them like the nazis did, that's too
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obvious. instead, they just charge these ludicris amounts of money for them,
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so only the rich and upperclass get ahold of them. now, the rich being rich
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as they are, they read these books about how america is corrupt to the core
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and all, and they don't care. they're rich and nice and happy, see? why would
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they care about america being corrupt, just so long as they have some pretty
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polly in their pocket. (for those who aren't clockwork orange fanatics,
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pretty polly translates out to be money.)
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lately i'm coming to the conclusion that it's not the society, it's not the
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government, it's the people. we're just all drawn, natural-like, into being
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complete and utter assholes. we just deveop that way, i figure. but then
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there's the odd ones, the queer ducks, so to speak. it's like the way there
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are long haired-cats and short-haired cats. all cats, just alike. only the
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hair is different. nice and natural, see? well, i suppose there are those of
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us who form and we are just set off in life destined to be cattle. and then
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there's the other ones, they being set to be motivated towards change and
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improving things.
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people suck. period. i don't know why i'm beating my head over this. it's so
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simple i just can't accept it.
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well it's no simple thing to find yourself in contact with a genuine
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short-haired cat, that being an awake and lively human being, one who is in
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tune with what's going on and the course of things. music used to be a really
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good register as to who was what kind of person. people like to surround
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themselves with similar things, right right right. religious prestoopnicks
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(that being people) like to hear all preachy talking and "praise jesus!" and
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"god bless you, my brudder." and then the psychopathical personages like to
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hear like vacuum cleaners and people going "ooh! oooh! stop it you beast!"
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well, this is all fine and dandy. but, see, the long-haired cats, those being
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the human cattle and money grubbing piggys, they make everything into a
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product. music is music, plain and simple. music used to be something you
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just did because you felt good doing it or listening to it or being around
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it. now society has warped and music has become like a perverted register of
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morals. now it dosen't distinguish between long-hairs and short-hairs, now it
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goes all a spinning off, telling who's cool and who's not, who's in and who's
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ot, who's a guido and who's a metalhead. well, "paaaah!" i say. yes, damn
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right, "paaaah!" they stick these little messages into our tv sets, and they
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flash all day long saying "buy! buy! buy! consume, ya bastards!" commercials,
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you understand. we see them all day long. they don't see me, the rats, they
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see income. they see a possible customer. they see more money in their
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pockets if they can hook me and make me buy this rot i don't even bloody well
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need. if i am nothing, am i not atleast a person? crickey.
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so anyhow, where was i before i got all skewed off? oh. ok. anyhow. when you
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find yourself knowing a real awakened sort of person, you'll know it well
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enough. he or she (or it, for that matter) may be hard to spot, what with
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rapidly changing social trends (there, there's that cursed word..), but if'n
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you ever actually do find such a person, you'll be quite happy you did. this
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being of course if you're a similar and like individual. (now there's a
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concept. "similar and like individual." imagine that. being the same in some
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ways, and yet still a totally new and amazing beast. may wonders never
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cease.) if you're a sleepy dreamy cow-like human, you will more than likely
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end up cursing whoever this person is who you've met, for he/she/it
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represents change and like hard work.
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- flash! -
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in case you didn't realize this, cattle-humans are generally very
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narrow-minded. they see only one little thing, with no other options. they
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think either "sex" or "money" or "social acceptance" or something such as
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that. they don't care for it much when something comes along and foggys up
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their narrow little mind. no no no, don't like that at all. that requires
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work to fix. and cattle-like humans are also generally a lazy lot, too.
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- now back to our normal babble -
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i hear a motorbike outside my window.
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anyhow, i know all about this cursing and damnation thing, because i
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experianced that firsthand. see, i met up with this guy who was on the fringe
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of fashion and social acceptance and all, and over the course of a couple
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years or so, he has really swayed away from the trendy side of life. now his
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parents don't like this rot one bit, and their favorite hobby is yammering
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how i am the son of satan and all evil is generally my fault. how if i was
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never to have met their dear sweet charming little sun that things would be
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nice and chipper and peachy-keen. sorry to rain on their parade and festival
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of a rich and carefree life and all, but i'm sadly mistaken. they can take
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that idea of everything being my fault and ram it right up their tight little
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stingy assholes.
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12:27 am. wooo!
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mayhaps i should date this incase i become like famous because of it. ha.
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well, it's the first friday in august of 1992, and i won't tell you the
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numerical date because i damn well forgot that. ah well.
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"double god damn and a carton of hells.."
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religion bashing is a fun thing to witness, but it is like hellish and bad
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when you think about it. i mean, hmm. calmly discussing things with people
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and occasionally challenging their beliefs is nice and good and it promotes
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the use of ye old noggen, which is great indeed. but outright saying "you
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suck, your religion sucks, and you're a flaming dumbass for buying that
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shit" is just a little harsh. then again, some people need harshness to make
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them stop. hmm.
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i feel this filling in my bladder. i think i'll releave myself. hold.
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frankly, i would have voted for brown.
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song lyrics creep into the old brain:
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"and all i eat is dirt /
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they say you are what you eat!"
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then later on in the song, the guy starts chanting like "i can't eat no more
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dirt!" over and over, much many times.
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i don't speak like this in the everyday world, just so's you know.
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i work at a record store, i know you know. this lady came a drifting in with
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her 8 or 9 or not more than 10 year old son today, and she was playing the
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part of little miss moral majority. her child wanted to buy a copy of the
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bodycount album, the one with "cop killer" on it. she kept a ranting and
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raving about curses and gang violence and blah blah blah. she was wearing
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this recycling shirt. she had her hair all sprayed up nicely, and she was
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wearing makeup. i make be mistaken, but i think she had a leather purse.
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how can you be so concerned about what people hear? and how can you be so
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concerned about what people throw out? and at the very same point in time,
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how can you go a lollygaging around with a thousand and one chemicals strewn
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all over your body, 99.9% of which were probably forced down the throats of
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screaming rabbits? how can you care so much about some and just fucking
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ignore the rest? consolidated lyrics leaking in: "your saying peace to your
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brothers while you torture your sisters."
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cold in here.
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while i was up turning the fan off (just now) i noticed my soviet flag which
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no one understands and i don't care to explain to you, whoever the hell you
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are.
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they say i am the ultimate cynic. i pride myself on this, cannot they see?
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i think i'll quote some things from this underground magazine called "sound
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off." here you are:
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"if you accept what they give you, you deserve what you get."
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damn straight. i like that one i just gave you.
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"focus your anger. educate yourself. don't accept what they feed you. draw
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your own conclusions. don't listen to just one viewpoint. find out what the
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other side is saying. then form your own opinion. listen."
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"as he began to speak, the words fell short, at the realization of the
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absurdity of life. he reach for his dinner fork and gouged his eyes out, as
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did the crowd. and slowly but surely they all began to see..."
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"ok now repeat after me...
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the police are good.
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the police are our friends.
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the police know what's best for us.
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the police are not racist.
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the police would never use unnecessary force.
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the police would never hassle or harass anyone without a reason.
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the police are not power hungry megalomaniacs with the desire and ability to
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control and intimidate anyone they may dislike.
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the police always follow proper procedure.
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the police never instigate riots.
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the police never do anything illegal.
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the police are right.
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might makes right.
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it's the american way.
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god bless the police."
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"'don't worry' said the trees when they saw the axe coming, 'the handle is
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one of us.'"
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- end o' quotes -
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very spiffy mag. if you wants for a copy, write a letter very nice-like to
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this address:
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sound off
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7875 w, oklahoma ave.
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apt #1
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west allie, wi
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53219-3615
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send him stamps! he damn well needs them. it costs quite a bit to put out
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your own rag. and write a human letter, too. this is a guy, not a company.
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tell him you read about it here if you like, i'm sure he would be amuzed.
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groan. i am tired. i think i'll save this and donate it to tal meta now. ok?
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ok. g'night sleeping world.
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-Hairy Leech
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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*-* Phoenix Modernz Inc. TANSTAAFL BBS:908/830-TANJ *-*
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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*-* Modern Textfiles Inc. The Matrix BBS:908/905-6691 *-*
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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*-* The Lawless Society Inc. CyberChat BBS:908/506-7637 *-*
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