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                            lemon magazine issue #6

                                j00 w4hnt l3m0n!

                                 in this issue

                    welcome to lemon                obsidian
                    obsidian's editorial           guess nig
                    napkin: condiments ch 18          murmur
                    hackey-sack                     obsidian
                    i hate you all                  naidisbo
                    trendy gets it all              obsidian
                    misc thoughts                   obsidian
                    evils of school                 obsidian
                    i'm a noodle                    obsidian

::[welcome to lemon!@#]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        "obsidian!@#  so like, what happened?"

        i've recently been mobbed by the groupies on irc, asking where i've
been, what happened to lemon, etc etc.  i suppose i should explain.  basically,
i've been really busy, and i had almost completely lost contact with juke,
who's now also doing chemical chocolate.  btw, if you haven't already, grab the
latest issue of cc...it's rad.

        but lemon is back, with the same purpose as before, only perhaps this
time it is even more defined.  during the time that i have not been actively
involved in the scene, it's safe to say that i've questioned most everything.
i think my reasons for writing lemon as well as the type of zine that i want
lemon to be have really changed.  i'm hoping that the audience for this form of
writing will expand.  the number of people who can now be reached via the
internet and other online services is phenomenal, and we plan to utilize all
the resources we have.  perhaps even those who might not discover lemon on the
pc will discover lemon via another media: paper.

        well, there's a lot of new plans and ideas we've got.  but enough of
that.  dig up the recipe for lemon bars from issue two and sit back and relax,
cuz this brand new issue of lemon is wicked crazy awesome.

oh yeah, and thanks to hal08 for another rad logo...

::[obsidian's editorial]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        realism is overrated.

        it's a conclusion that i think many people can agree with, especially
considering the current emotional climate in america today.  i really don't
know why people are so hung up on the whole realism thing, when you consider,
that by definition, realism is based on reality, which alone sucks.

        perhaps i should explain my point of view further, as many of you are
prolly reading this thinking 'whuddahell?!@'  so anyway, i was sitting in my
american literature and composition class and we're reading poetry.  that's
then this whole idea hit me.  sure, realism was a really nice break from the
more romantic or idealistic poetry of the time when it first appeared, but i
believe we've reached a point in time where everyday life is so absolutely
horrid for a large percentage of the populace that we might want to consider
something new.  we see life, as ugly or as beautiful as it is every waking
hour, must we always read about it too?

::[napkin: condiments chapter 18]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        the galoshes were not buckled, but were they still in the alley?  it
is a remarkable question, thought alan, as he slammed his head into another
poor bespectacled soul in the unglorified pit.  why shouldn't he?  or should
he?  did he?  didn't he?  he was not to know, so he gave up.  i'll just
crank the bass, i suppose, he thought, then it will be happy in mudville.
and so it was.

moral:  no flapping.

::[hackey-sack]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        as i approached my car, i noticed some adolescents playing some form of
game in the parking lot.  i did not immediately recognize the game, since i
couldn't see the ball.  i assumed they were playing soccer or something.  then
one of them walked up to me and my friend.

        "you guys wanna hack?" the kid asked us.

        i did not understanding the question, and was caught off guard.  i
immediately assumed that he wanted us to join in on some illegal computer
activity, most likely less exciting than it sounded.

        "umm...what?!" i asked him, obviously confused.

        "you wanna hack with us?" he repeated.

        "um, no, i've gotta get home." my friend offered and so we climbed into
the car and drove off, as the kid ran back over to the group of players.

        as i thought about the situation, i figured out what was going on there
and discussed it with my friend.  i noticed as the week went on that there were
kids gathered around all the time engaged in this activity.  i'll admit that
i'm not terribly crazy about sports, but this just really seemed like a dumb
game.

        hackey-sack.  when did this suddenly become cool?!@#

        now, if people were kicking around dead animal organs, or better yet
still-functioning human organs, that might be cooler.  just imagine someone
whipping a chicken kidney at you.

        but anyway, please put an end to this futile game.

::[i hate you all]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        i despise all you little elite punks
        trading warez is your life
        sit there, thinking you're so great
        with your pathetic excuses for boards

        blatently steal ideas from the enlightened
        never original or creative
        your life will suck
        no talent no brain no skill

        try to write when you have no grammar
        try to program when you have no logic
        your brain is like that of a five year old
        play games on your dads computer

        run a renegade board thats poorly configured
        nothing good on there, no legitiment thought
        in messages just insult one another
        like children playing in a school yard

        take the work of another and claim its your own
        then insult him, tell him he sucks
        you will never be half what he is
        you weak pathetic bastard child

        i truly pity you, for you will never last
        the world has no place for you
        it does not want you
        you merely take up extra space

        you will be swept away and never missed
        never having accomplished something for yourself
        another life ends empty
        never having reached maturity

        nobody cares, except maybe your mother
        she will cry for a minute, then never miss you
        you thought you were elite
        no one else cared

        die, go away
        no one wants you
        just die, just go away
        we have no time for you

::[trendy gets it all]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        stephanie stepped out of the front door to her house.  the fresh air of
a spring morning cleared her sinuses.  or perhaps it was the bags of garbage
that lined the sides of the suburban street.  it did not matter.

        she quickly climbed into her midnight blue mazda and drove into the
city.  this was a fairly long drive, especially today when the traffic was
backed up for miles.  being fairly accustomed to this, stephanie just relaxed
in the soft seat of the car, relaxing to the soothing pulse of the sounds of
the rainforest tape she had just purchased.

        arriving in the congested downtown, she was quite relieved to find a
parking space right off the bat, and upon hurriedly parking her car, she
climbed out and began walking down the sidewalk to her destination, that being
the gap.  she judged it to be about half a block up for where she was.

        stephanie glanced down at her watch.  the light of the sun reflected
off the gold ban, temporarily blinding her.  it was about twelve forty-five.
she was late for lunch.  damn.

        the question soon seemed trivial to her as she was suddenly viciously
attacked by a group of squatters.  her mind went blank as she collapsed to the
solid ground, yet she noticed a few things.  they stank.  they sure were not
wearing ck one or eternity.  and their grungy clothes and tattered shoes.  the
styles were so passe.

        a realization of her situation hit her in the face as they ripped the
clothes off her body.  or maybe it was the girl who was taking her purse.
never the less, stephanie pondered this as she lay naked and shivering on the
sidewalk, not entirely concious of that fact that her nose was bleeding.

::[misc thoughts]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        atoms?!@#  no, chocolate mint m&ms are the building blocks of the
        universe.  don't even try to dispute it.

        if you're thinking about running your own irc bot, don't.

        reese's peanut butter cup + phish = too much.

        the bible.  all time best seller.  right up there with interview with
        the vampire.

        if you had an alias like zordon and a zine named psychotrumpus,
        wouldn't you change them?

        hi, or as they say in san francisco, you're gay!@#

        is it bad when two students leave your english class, go outside and
        smoke a joint, come back in and sit down in the class, smelling like
        weed, and the teacher never notices?

::[evils of school]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        wait!@#  no, but before you stop reading, this isn't the average
        sk00l 5Ucks 4n4rk3y ph1l3!@#$

        ok, but i was sitting in my political and economic history class the
other day, and i was pondering whether the class served any purpose or not.
i began to think about this when it occured to me that all of the material
being covered in this class was repeated from seventh grade american history.

        'why teach it again?' i thought.  to make matters worse, the class is
required for graduation and acceptance to most decent colleges and
universities.  are the school administrations assuming that we're not catching
the material the first time?

        the second issue that concerned me about this class was the excessive
homework which the teacher somehow manages to generate. i do not really mind
homework, because in most cases i feel that it serves a purpose.  usually it's
simple enough to finish before going home anyway, so it's not really of concern
to me.  occasionally this isn't the case, and depending on the degree of
importance the particular teacher has placed on the work, i often choose not to
do it.

        i consider homework's main purpose is to give you practice working with
whatever concept or material is being covered, which makes sense, because
teachers just don't have time to deal with thirty kids in one hour.  however,
this homework in this class is graded on completion, on rather you finish it or
not.  the teacher never even _reads_ the essays.  he'll assign a 300 word essay
every night...he doesn't care.  not like he's gonna read them.  no, he's gonna
go home, watch tv and get it on with his wife.

        after some thought and examination, i noticed that this was a trend in
most all of the class that my friends and i were in.  looking past individual
teachers and homework, the materials taught in the classes are pathetic.
teachers have been reduced to babysitters, teaching information about the world
that has been so watered down for our generation of pot heads that it's almost
sickening.  not to mention the fact that most all history taught in public
schools today has been completely altered by politically correct activists.

        i'm not really implying that it's all the schools fault.  i mean, i'm
basically the only one in my english class who's literate.  no, really.  and
i'm not in a low-level class either.  you can ask juke...he'll verify that.
of course the fault also lies with parents, who don't care at all about what
their kids do at school, don't help them at all, and yet they attempt to punish
the children if grades are bad.

        well, i suppose this completes yet another social sermon preached by
your friends at lemon.  dude, i'm so sick of apathy.

::[i'm a noodle]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

        sup fool?  groove to that phat bass sound.  all the hip cats dig it.
taste it.  love it.  cool then, dwell in my radness.  lemon candy is tasty.

        you like lemon?

        lemon good?

        submit.

        ok, lemon needs people to submit stuff.  send us anything, as long as
its thought-provoking or at least entertaining.  no, really.

::[misc info]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

to contact obsidian: danderso@cube.ice.net
                     obsidian on #zines

to get the latest lemons (or the latest demons):

        call ihop: 309 555 2579,,#11,#11,#11
        ops: murmur, cyric, shadow tao

there should be a lemon page on zinew0rld soon:

        http://www.pla-net.net/~jwapienn/zineworld/

          (c) copyrights are for the weak.  distribute like a mufuqa.

::[eof]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::