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Radioactive Aardvark Dung E-Zine :: ISSN 1092-5449
Issue #17 % Released June 27, 1997
Without Prejudice and Explicit Reservation of All My Rights, UCC 1-207
"We've heard that a million monkeys at a million keyboards could produce the
Complete Works of Shakespeare; now, thanks to the Internet, we know this
is not true."
-- Robert Wilensky, University of California
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============================================================================
"Monologue"
As David Letterman'd by - Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
Thank you, everyone, and welcome to the humor based e-zine
Radioactive Aardvark Dung. And in case you didn't know -- just in case you
weren't aware of who I am -- I know there's _got_ to be some people out
there that have no clue as to who I am -- I am the new editor of this
magazine, David Letterman. "The most powerful man in publishing."
You know, Timothy McVeigh's trial has been real big in the news
lately. Yeah... that's right. Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City Bomber.
Yeah, apparently as I type this the jury is delegating on whether or not he
should get the death penalty. I wonder how this is going ... "Uh... uh...
Marty... you gonna eat all those shrimp?" HA! HA! "You gonna eat all
those shrimp?!"
You know, this e-zine has a really large following overseas; yeah,
for some reason, foreigners can't get enough of us. Did you know we had a
big following overseas, Phorce?
"Ummm, no, Dave: I didn't."
Yeah, these guys love us, especially the French. Apparently these
wacky Frenchmen love it when I do this: [-_-]. Yeah, really. The French
love it when I do this: [-_-]. So that goes out to all our loyal French
viewers who are big fans of the e-zine.
"Uhhhh, uhhhhh, you gonna eat all those shrimp?"
Boy, I'm glad you people can't see my hair. That's one of the
benefits of writing this mag, the audience can't see my hair. I have the
worst hair piece. It looks like a wet cat sitting on my head.
Here it is, one more time: [-_-]. HA! HA!
Okay, we got a great issue for you today: after a short hiatus,
Handle has returned with a couple of articles. And we welcome, for the
first time, the comedic stylings of Metalchic. That's right, Metalchic.
HA! HA! You know who didn't submit anything to us, though? Tommy Chong.
No, no, really! No submissions from famed stoner, Tommy Chong.
"Uhhh, huh huh, uhhh, you gonna eat all those shrimp?"
Tommy Chong! HA! HA!
============================================================================
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During this issue of Radioactive Aardvark Dung Humor E-zine (monthly!), you
are going to run across the following topics: British flag burning, rad.edu,
souveneirs of the revolution, the pope in a series of outrageous situations,
moose gutter 2300, a street-bum named Moses, crippled people, stupid
hippies, drive-by rappers, the U.S. Navy, milk, the Bible, slow-learning
kids, Baskin Robbins, rednecks, Communists, The Soviet Union, and much, much
more!
============================================================================
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"Radioactive Aardvark Dung News"
By Our Field Correspondent, Mercuri
E-mail: mercuri@rad.edu
Much has happened in the short time since we last spoke, so I'm just
going to dive right into it.
For starters, http://www.rad.edu/ is the home of our new website!
The old URL is no longer valid, so be sure to make all the necessary changes
to your bookmarks &/or links.
Since we've got rad.edu, all our writers now have their very own
@rad.edu e-mail account. If you're not on the list below, and you've
written for RAD, please contact us at rad@rad.edu. Writers are also
entitled to webspace at rad.edu; e-mail webmaster@rad.edu for details.
[-----]
The RAD High Society
====================
Mercuri [founder] mercuri@rad.edu
Handle [co-founder] handle@rad.edu
TMM [writer] tmm@rad.edu
Phorce [editor] phorce@rad.edu
Intrepid [writer, ambassador] int@rad.edu
RAD Writers
===========
Hacksaw hacksaw@rad.edu
Ap0c ap0c@rad.edu
Ben Ohmart ben@rad.edu
Creed creed@rad.edu
Gaurdian gaurdian@rad.edu
hal08 hal08@rad.edu
jubjub [aka JoltCola] jubjub@rad.edu
k0de k0de@rad.edu
Mel Farr Suppastar melfarr@rad.edu
MetalChick metalchic@rad.edu
Ninja ninja@rad.edu
Puck puck@rad.edu
Satyr satyr@rad.edu
Styx styx@rad.edu
Wildwood wildwood@rad.edu
Victims of the RAD Caste System (tm)
====================================
Cerkit [cocksucker] cocksucker@rad.edu
Geck0 [gay guy] gayguy@rad.edu
[-----]
WANT A RAD.EDU E-MAIL ACCOUNT?
==============================
yourname@rad.edu accounts are availible for a one time fee of $10 --
the mail sent there will be auto-forwarded to the account of your choice.
This is useful if you have a particularly long e-mail address, or would
like something a little more anonymous than your current one.
WANT RAD.EDU WEBSPACE?
======================
http://www.rad.edu/yourname URLs are on sale. The cost is $15 each
year. You'll have access to CGI scripts, plently of disk space and best
of all, rad.edu is a T3 (fast, fast connection).
[-----]
Cash should be sent to:
RAD E-zine
P.O. Box 584
Crown Point, IN 46307
If you'd like to send a check or money order, please contact
sales@rad.edu for additional information.
[-----]
This month we are proud to announce yet *another* addition to the RAD
High Society (the decision makers at Radioactive Aardvark Dung E-zine).
First, it was but me (Mercuri) & Handle -- then came Phorce, then The Masked
Maruader (TMM), and now comes Intrepid!
Intrepid is a wiley Canuck who will be our Ambassador to Canada, as
well as our Public Relations man for the Canuck population; which mainly
consists of pale-skinned Europeans, annoying Quebecians, and Eskimos. Oh, &
he'll also be advising us as to issue content and will be submitting lots of
stuff.
[-----]
We've also established an EfNET IRC channel so you can talk back and
forth with various writers and RAD Groupies (tm). Our busiest hours are
after 5PM CST (That's 1700 for you Euro-trash).
While you're there, add yourself to our bot, DungHeap. DungHeap is
a relic of the Cold War. To add yourself to the bot, execute the following
command while in IRC:
/msg DungHeap hello
Need some EfNET servers? Try irc.nwlink.com, irc.ais.net,
irc1.phoenix.net, or irc.chat.org.
We hope to see you there (as long as you're not a moron, that is)!
============================================================================
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"When I'm A Dictator And The Whole World Bows To My Feet And Attempts to
Rip My Shoes Off as A Souvenir of the Revolution..."
As Quilled by Skrubly
E-mail: skrubly@rad.edu
This COULD turn into post-Marxist raving, but it probably won't.
Because, after all, in real life, the bigger Communist countries turn into
dictatorships, which is what this article is all about.
I will be instituting a few laws when I become dictator (projected
date: March 3rd, 1999) that might be a little unnerving for the weak. I'll
go over the major points right now.
1) STUPID PEOPLE: All stupid people will be shot. Period. For
instance, the person who spit about a quart of warm water out of the window
of their fucking CRX today without looking to see if there was someone
BEHIND them on a motorcycle, well, you won't be around much longer to do
that again.
2) OLD PEOPLE: Now, I usually speak out AGAINST ageist views, but in
this case, I'm going to have to make a bloated, cancerous, bermuda-short-
wearing, "back in my day"-saying, cane-whacking, liver-spotted exception.
Sure, old people are to be respected, but when it comes to most of them, I'm
sorry, neanderthals WERE more civilized than we are. I mean, when you were
an old neanderthal, for one thing, you were only like 35 years old. Then
something/someone broke your skull open and you were pretty damn grateful
for it, because, after all, the food sucked back then, and there were
diseases that could eat the clap for breakfast and go after herpes for
dinner. So when I'm a dictator, anyone over the age of 40 will have to wear
a small armband that describes their relevancy and usefulness to society as
a whole. Not EVERYONE would be executed, mind you: unless they slipped
through the cracks when the Stupid Police swept through. For example:
"Richard Head, age 42. Primary activities: being
prematurely bald; trying to relive my teenage years by
driving shitty sportscars. Primary relevancy to society:
I buy dirty magazines. See the part about the sportscar."
I mean, geez -- this guy has enough problems as it is. Death would
probably be too good for him. Punishment: he must drive a Geo Metro, throw
away his toupee, and read the "Ladies' Home Journal" for five years or until
his brain dribbles out his ears from boredom, whichever comes first.
"Ann Landers, Age 103. Primary Activities: Answering
letters from deranged people saying that their wife left
them because they beat her and never gave her any money and
accused her of cheating and it's all the fault of the
Internet. Primary relevancy to society: gives tips on how
to settle disputes with family members WITHOUT firearms."
Ann Landers lives in her own little world, but what the hell, she's
pretty unnecessary overall. Punishment: she must go back to high school so
she can fully understand the intricacies of high school romance, the agony
of high school territory, and the thrill of high school masturbation.
"Martha Owens, age 65. Primary activities: Driving around
in large cars at low speeds with small annoying dogs in the
backseat. Primary relevancy to society: sells Mary Kay (c)
cosmetics."
Hell, I don't think the Age Police would even let her get out of the
car. They'd probably just push it to the side of road, fill it with cement,
and let it be an example to all Buick owners that pass it.
3) PEOPLE THAT SAY I'M GOING TO HELL: Well, they're probably right,
but then again, they're pretty damn annoying -- so I guess I'll force them
to read sociology textbooks for the rest of their pathetic lives.
4) PEOPLE THAT WEAR DRIVING GLOVES: Take them off. What the hell do
you think you look like, anyways?
5) PEOPLE THAT THINK PRO WRESTLING IS REAL: Oh, jeezus, I should
probably just leave these people be. I'd have a hard time making their
lives any worse.
6) PEOPLE THAT GO BOWLING ON A REGULAR BASIS: All of them would be
confined to their homes, at least until I get my average score above 120.
Plus I wish my hand wouldn't hurt so much after two games. It's imparing my
mastu... I mean, my social life.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Pert Plus: Take One"
As Made Up by Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
Voice-over: Pope John Paul II spends 90 minutes destroying his hair
and...
Director: Cut! What's his holiness's problem this time?
Pope: I just don't get it. I don't even play volleyball. Why am I
playing volleyball?
Director: Okay, John, would you like to be the director?
Pope: Well... er... really, I don't think I could...
Director: No, didn't think so. So why don't you just shutup and
spike the Goddamn volleyball?
Pope: That's it, fuck this. I'm out of here.
============================================================================
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"A New, Better, Safer Tradition"
As Burned by Mercuri
E-mail: mercuri@rad.edu
I was perusing the past pages of RAD and there is one thing I've
noticed: I have become less of a right-wing extremist. This is not good.
I need to start writing more stories about my eventual conquest of
everything. Doom on you, Somalia. I want your skinny black people.
[-----]
Independence Day is coming up, and you know what that means: fire-
works (& gory disfigurements)! Yes, the Fourth of July is a great time to
celebrate, but fireworks can be harmful; especially for children. So, how
do you avoid burns on your children but still let them have fun? I have the
answer!
This may be hard to do around the Fourth of July, but there's got to
be a place to get a British flag; maybe through mail order. Check the WWW,
they're bound to have something.
"What are you going to do with this Brit Shit? This is a U.S.
Holiday!" Well, no shit. We're gonna burn this unholy son of a bitch until
there is nothing left but ash.
If you are older, you may want to douse the (British) flag in lighter
fluid or gasoline first; then you can set it on fire. Now you have many
choices from here on out with how to display this burning British flag.
1) Leave it on the ground, obviously. Retard.
2) Hoist it up a flag pole, and play some awe-inspiring patriotic
music, or maybe get your whole family or neighbors to join in and
sing some yourself.
Now, before you even destroy it by setting it ablaze, you should
consider pissing, shitting, and/or spitting on it.
I can already hear all you P.C. Bastards out there whining, "But
Mercuri! The British are our friends now, this would be an insult to them!"
My answer to this is, "Don't do it, then." But for those of us who love our
country, for those of you who have fought to preserve our freedom, and for
those of you who just hate the British (as I do), I say "LIGHT THAT
SONOFABITCH UP LIKE CHRISTMAS TREE!"
Trust me, this is better than any fountain, firecracker, bottle
rocket, smoke bomb, or sparkler EVER. Plus, it's a character-builder.
Nobody wants dull kids. Dull kids get the piss knocked out of them, and
rightly so, I might add.
But it doesn't have to stop at just the British flag. We are U.S.
Citizens, we are superior, & we can burn any flag we want to. It's quite
a release. Burn Spain's, burn France's, just burn someone's flag -- BUT IT
BETTER NOT BE OURS OR I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN.
I am seriously going to do this on the Fourth. Don't think for a
minute that I am kidding, either. Maybe next year I can plan enough in
advance to get some cheap British flags for you to buy.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Zinc Could've Saved The World"
Falliciously (yet amusingly) Written by TMM
E-mail: tmm@rad.edu
I hear people use zinc to heal their body piercings. I hear it
works well. I bet Jesus Christ had wished he had some zinc.
Zinc could have saved the world.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Moses Supposes"
As Shared by Jestapher
E-mail: jestapher@rad.edu
In downtown Olympia, on the corner of 4th and Washington, right
outside of Dancing Goats Espresso, lives Moses. I'm not sure if he actually
lives on the corner, but that's where he always seems to be. He stands
all day, selling a homeless newspaper to benefit the homeless. Probably
the most interesting aspect of Moses is his random prophecies.
About a year ago, I was downtown enjoying Artswalk, Olympia's little
celebration of the arts. I met Moses while walking with some friends, and
we stopped and listened to him, not because we respected him, but because we
thought him kookier than everyone else we had met earlier. That night, he
was telling us about some correlations he'd noticed between the death of Ron
Brown, the then Labor Secretary of the United States, I believe, and the
crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
Ron Brown died in an airplane crash over Bosnia during a storm.
Jesus was crucified during a storm. I'm not a religious scholar, so I don't
know if this is actually true, but Moses believed it to be.
Bosnia is a mountainous region, and Ron Brown died over the
mountains. Jesus was crucified on a hill.
And here's the clincher. Jesus was thirty-three years of age when he
died. Ron Brown was one of thirty-three passengers on the airplane. If
that doesn't prove something, what does?
We asked Moses if he was trying to say that Ron Brown was Jesus and
he assured us that he wasn't. He wasn't trying to prove anything, he was
only putting forth some correlations he'd noticed.
We bid farewell to Moses and went on our way, laughing and joking
about what a freak he was. To this day, I still think Moses is a freak, but
I still stop to hear him talk about everything from how the homeless are
being screwed over to the inevitable eruption of Mount Ranier.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"For Sale"
Remax Experienced Salesman, Intrepid
E-mail: int@rad.edu
Being the well-informed, educated reader you are, I'm sure you know
that buying real-estate is considered the "investment of the 90s." Well,
have I got good news for you. If something is good, then a large amount of
something is even better, right? Like candy, only sweeter.
Right! No, no, no, I'm not trying to sell you my private mansion,
which, me being the official RAD ambassador to Canada, is quite large. What
I'm offering is much bigger, much better, much more important.
I will, as a Canadian citizen, sell you Quebec for the paltry sum of
$47.77, a snicker's bar for TMM, and the "Moose-Gutter 2300" for Merc.
Now wait a sec, you're probably saying:
"There must be a catch!" Unfortunately, as a Canadian, I'm not smart
enough to make catches.
I know what you're thinking; and no, this isn't illegal. Quebecer's
don't want to be in Canada, and "real" Canadians don't want them here.
You can do whatever you want with it, you can create your own strict,
totalitarian regime, and implement cruel abuses of human rights. Then, when
it gets on the news, people will be outraged. Well, at least until they
hear that you're governing "Old Quebec." Then, you'll get foreign aid.
And after that, as Handle says: it's pure profit, baby!
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Rambling About Crippled People"
As Rambled by Corrupt Citizen
E-mail: ccit@rad.edu
One thing I've noticed is some advantages of crippled people. For
example, someone in a wheelchair may not be able to walk, but they can get
away with anything. If they want to, they can go insult somebody, but if
the person says anything back they look like a dickhead. And who's gonna
kick a crippled person's ass? See, if I was in a wheelchair, this is how I
would handle it:
[Somebody's walking down the street.]
Me: Hey!
Them: Huh?
Me: You get the fuck over here!
[They walk over.]
Them: Yes?
Me: I just wanted to say you fucking suck!
Them: Excuse me?
Me: You're a fucking prick, I hate you.
Them: I'm sorry, sir, I...
Me: You what? You're sorry because I'm in a wheel chair? Well, *I'm*
not! You fucking goofy-legged bitch!
Them: I'm sorry!
Me: Now push me to the store, slave!
Them: Okay.
[And they push me to the store.]
However, I'm not in a wheelchair, so this is how it would really go:
Me: Hey!
Them: What the fuck?
Me: You get the fuck over here!
Them: What did you say to me you little bastard!?!?!
[They kick my ass.]
That's not all there is to it: if they're at the store, they can
shoplift anything they want. Who's gonna ask some crippled person what
they're sitting on? And also you have to call them "handicapped." Now
don't get me wrong, it probably sucks being in a wheelchair, and I'm not
saying anything against them (because then I'd look like a dickhead, see?).
I'm just saying, I would take advantage of my situation a lot if I was
crippled.
On the subject of crippled people, I wondered what would happen if
you stuck Tommy and Helen Keller in the same room. I mean, would they even
know eachother existed? Kinda like that tree falls in a forest idea. As I
would think, the dialogue would go:
Helen: ....
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "Hello?">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "Anyone here?">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "Guess not.">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "Oh great, now I'm talking to myself.">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "Really, it's more like I'm signing to myself.">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "It doesn't matter, I just wish someone was here.">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <signs "I think I'll goto sleep now.">
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
Helen: <falls asleep>
Tommy: <runs into a wall "Thump!">
etc...
Which brings to the topic of blind people in general. They can also
easily take advantage of society's helpless normal people. For example, the
blind community recently tried to get our local legislator to add on a 2
cent gas tax; this money would go to help the Public Bus System, which they
frequently use. This idea was rejected, but they made them feel bad so it's
getting looked at again and most likely will pass. If they actually wanted
to take advantage of the situation, they could do something along the lines
of a 20 cent gas tax and have the money pay for them to own a small little
island off the Phillippenes with nice houses and servants for the blind
community only and name it Blind Island, but they didn't. Not saying I want
them to -- I like my 1.16 a gallon gas as it is -- I was just making note of
something I would do if I were blind.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Hippie Story"
As bequeathed by Mercuri
E-mail: mercuri@rad.edu
Me, Handle, and another anonymous non-modem-geek friend were driving
down the road going to see _The Lost World_ when a shitty brown junker with
Grateful Dead & Phish stickers in the window slowly passed me.
Enraged not only by the thought of hippies, but of hippies passing
*me*, I sped up until my window was even with the passenger side window of
the aforementioned hippie-mobile. We made eye contact, so I gave him a
thumbs-up and a big grin; he grinned back. So I flashed him a peace sign,
and he euphorically smiled back. Noting his obvious pleasure with the
current situation, I dropped my index finger and stopped smiling -- and
mouthed, "Fuck You." They sped off.
Moral: Mean people are hilarious.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Bugles Crispy Corn Snacks: Take One"
As Observed by His Holiness, Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
Director: Action!
Pope: Wow, I sure am hungry. I sure do wish there was a crispy corn
snack I could sink my teeth into.
God: Hello John, thou shalt eat Bugles Crispy Corn Snacks (tm)!
Pope: Woah, wait a second. Hold up.
Director: What's the problem?
Pope: That's not God.
Director: I know that's not God, could you just say the line?
Pope: That's blasphemy.
Director: I didn't ask your opinion, I just asked you to say the
line.
Pope: Alright, fuck this shit! I'm leaving!
Director: We had a contract!
============================================================================
============================================================================
"God Hates Me"
as spoken from the depths of hell by TMM
Email: tmm@rad.edu
I actually went to church today, which was a feat in & of itself
considering I don't even BELIEVE in God & can't stand all the quasi-
religious profiteering swank that I see at any meeting of organized
Christianity. Basically I went just to score some brownie points with my
parents & secure more money for next year at college. Definitely worth
the torture.
Hey, I've always said that I'd sell my soul in a second for money.
How do you think they got me to go to a small, conservative, Christian
school in Birmingham, Alabama?
So while I'm on this little digression, my little college requires
a certain number of religion courses to be taken before graduation. Namely,
eight hours of them. So I decided to get them all out of the way early &
thereby took them all my freshman year (last year). Last spring I had to
take "Survey of the New Testament" in which you were pretty much required
to read the entirety of the New Testament if you hoped to pass.
Since I have to keep a minimum GPA of 3.0, passing is a good thing
for me, so I read the whole damned thing.
Anyways, I was at church today, remember? Okay, well I was sitting
there with nothing to do but listen & think about how many beautiful women
were there & how bad this guy preaches the sermon when I found my interest
peaked on the sermon. I found one thing particularly interesting: the
preacher's (I have no clue what his name is) entire premise of his sermon
was based on something that he made up in his head.
I'll spare you the details but he was wrong & that's all there was to
it. So on the way home from church I felt obligated to publicly humiliate
him to my parents & ruthlessly point out what an idiot he was by telling the
REAL story of what he thought he was talking about.
After looking it up in the Bible & thus proving to my parents that I
was more filled-in than their preacher, for crissakes (remember, I don't
believe in God & I completely disagree with Christianity), my parents were
very proud of me & seemed very pleased with everything about me.
Admittedly, I scored ludicrous numbers of brownie points, but listen
to how they want to pay me these brownie points. Instead of giving me more
money next year, they are now offering to pay my way through SEMINARY
(yee-haw, preacher-school) after I finish college & are now opposing my wish
to go to graduate school.
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Got Milk?"
As Drunken by Metalchick
E-mail: metalchic@rad.edu
A man and a woman are walking into their home. When they get in,
they see their child downing a big container of Drano (tm). So they call
the Poision Control Center, and they tell the parents to give their child
some milk, which will make him vomit.
They quickly run to the cabinets, get a cup, and then run to the
refrigerator and grab the container of milk and only a droplet of milk
comes out. Both of them look at eachother, and in the background you see
the little kid fall to the floor, his lifeless carcass spread-eagled on the
kitchen tile.
got milk?
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Rappers Are Killed By Drive-By Shootings More Often Than Other Musicians"
As Researched and Reported by Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
A startling report was released this week with clear evidence that
not only are rappers the genre of musicians most frequently killed by drive-
by shootings, but they are also the genre most frequently charged with
murder.
"I'm shocked," stated famous rapper Snoop Doggy Dogg, who stood trial
for murder just last year. "I don't feel safe going out in the streets
anymore." Snoop also added, later that "I would just like to go on record
saying that I have never been killed by a drive-by shooting and I am
personally going to look into the authenticity of this whole report."
In an interview on Thursday, Vice President Al Gore was quoted as
saying, "The administration had no idea that this was the case; we can sit
around no longer while our beloved gangsta rappers are taken away from us
in such a childish manner." He followed that up by stating, "I can assure
you, the administration will be taking immediate preventive measures to
insure that our nation will not lose anymore of it's phat jams."
Shock was the overall emotion felt by the nation as it was rocked by
this startling information. It is reported that rap sales plummeted as a
result of people being afraid of associating themselves with a known health
hazard. Producer Sean "Puffy" Combs made the following statement: "Brothers
and sisters, I can guarantee you that you will not be killed by purchasing
gangsta rap albums. You guys got to be helping a nigguh out, cuz I gots to
feed my family, you know? So keep going out there and buying our albums and
we'll keep busting out our skills. Peace!" It is reported that Puffy was
in fact, not shot at by rival rappers during the course of this interview.
Rapper/actor Tupac Shakur said this morning, "I knew it all along
man! Ever since I got capped! I mean, come on, they fu%#$ng killed my
black ass! People just be trying to put the black man down! Now get that
f#@*%ing camera out my face! Yo, step back, punk! I'll fu*# your shit up!
Don't be trippin' man, I ain't afraid to cap yo' ass." It is reported that
Tupac was once again shot and killed immediately after this interview.
Vegas bookmaker Vinny Stepanopolis said this to reporters just a few
hours ago: "We had a nice little pool going; unfortunately, I lost my ass on
this one. That's what I get for betting my own money. I could have swore
it was the folk singers that were most commonly killed by drive-bys. Vegas
has been abuzz all morning because apparently somebody at another casino
actually bet on rappers. Can you believe that? I wish I was that guy."
Lead singer of Oasis and all-around British guy Liam Gallagher said
this to reporters, "Right, yeah. Rappers. I don't have any mates that've
been shot, but umm, who would have thought it would be the rappers? If
somebody would have told me this was the case a week ago I would have said
bolluks to that. I would have thought that British bands were most commonly
killed. Well, anyway, you're going to put down I'm British, right?"
So there you have it. If you are a gangster rapper I strongly urge
that you watch what you're doing when you walk down the street. Our nation
is still talking after this report and we can only guess what will occur in
the aftermath. I'm sure there will be other stories to come as more of our
beloved rappers get killed.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Your Call"
Found by Phorce
E-mail: phorce@rad.edu
This is the transcript of an ACTUAL radio conversation of a US naval
ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October,
1995.
**********************************************************************
Radio conversation released by the Chief of Naval Operations 10-10-95.
**********************************************************************
Americans: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to
avoid a collision.
Canadians: Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the
South to avoid a collision.
Americans: This is the Captain of a US Navy ship. I say again,
divert YOUR course.
Canadians: No. I say again, you divert YOUR course.
Americans: THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS MISSOURI, WE ARE A
LARGE WARSHIP OF THE US NAVY. DIVERT YOUR
COURSE NOW!
Canadians: This is a lighthouse. Your call.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"31 Rednecks: The Baskin Robbins Chronicles"
As Scooped Up by Hacksaw
E-mail: hacksaw@rad.edu
My work schedule must be posted at every tractor pull, outhouse, bar
room floor, and quilting bee in Northwest Indiana. Everytime I'm working I
have to deal with forty of these people. Or at least 31. (I'm naughty)
[Enter Hicks]
Hick 1: Whooeee Irma Ray, look at all the fancy lights!
Hick 2: Awwww Cletus, you know dat duh only people who cun ford dem is the
big corporations.
Me: Welcome to Baskin Robbins. How may I help you?
Irma Ray: We gots these here couponds for dem free smoothies.
Cletus: So, give us the red'uns.
Me: Uh, sir, these coupons are expired by 2 days.
Cletus: So what?
Irma Ray: Cletus, I think dat means we can't use dem.
Cletus: Now why in the hell is dat? I mean it is only 2 days so whats the
problem? I spent 2 hours digging through the dump for these!
Me: I would get in trouble if I took these.
Irma Ray: It's okay Cletus, I'll just take the money out of the ol' baby's
college fund. Here you go. We want the Ice Cream with all the
li'l pieces of cookies in em.
Me: What kind would that be?
Cletus: The ones with de cookies.
Me: What is the name?
Irma Ray: The cookie kind.
Cletus: The ones with the damn cookies!
Me: Um, Chocolate Cookie Crunch?
Irma Rya: Thats not it, it's called Cookies and Somethin'.
Me: Cookies and Cream?
Cletus: Yeah, das it.
Me: We dont have it.
[Phone Rings]
Me (to Hicks): Hold on for one moment please. (on phone) Hello?
(It is my boss, now, she is of Greek origin and she always calls in to ask
me if it has been busy; and I always answer with a resounding "NO.")
Boss: Allo Geem (Jim), ees bisseey?
Me: No.
Boss: (shocked and upset) Oh, I don't understand...
Me: Bye.
Boss: Why aren't we busy? I put up at least a hundred flye--*CLICK*
[Enter Man and Wife]
Man and Wife: We have a coupon for two free sundaes. (They pick the flavors
and I serve them)
Wife: Is that two scoops?
Me: Yep. (I put the spoon on the countertop and it slides around two
inches toward the woman in obvious need of Mydol)
Woman: Is that how you're gonna give me the spoon?
Me (Unsure of what she is talking about): Umm, yeah.
Woman: Well, you need to learn some manners!
Husband: Chill Out, Ma.
Woman: No, I will not chill out; this kid is obviously in need of a good
tounge thrashing. It's just like what you did over at the Watson's...
Man: Why do you always have to bring that up?
Woman: Well, you know that you started the whole thing!
Man: DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU BITCH!
Woman: Let's settle this at home, alright?
[Exit Bickering Couple]
Three minutes to closing, there is a freshly mopped floor when a
hillbilly family comes in -- all with muddy shoes. The father proceeds to
put his feet on the table. I have to serve these bastards and then I
finally get to leave at 11:00PM after re-mopping the floor and re-washing
the table tops. Damn Hicks.
Well, once you are finished dealing with the plethora of stereotypes
that you will encounter while working at a crappy Baskin Robbins (near you!)
with only 24 flavors (like the one I work at), you will have about 4 hours
left of being bored. So here are a few things that you can do to pass the
time:
* Make crop circles in the ice cream.
* Tell the customers that the 31 means that there is a jagged metal
object in every 31st scoop!
* Draw out little treasure maps on the backs of napkins:
________________________________________________________
| _______________________ |
| | | |
| | X | |
| | | | X = Ol Man Robbins' Treasure |
| | / | |
| | / | H = Haunted House |
| | / H | |
| | _______ | D = Devil's Gulch |
| | D |_______| | |
| |_______________________| |
|________________________________________________________|
and slip them into various customers' bags. Zany adventures will
follow!
* After the customer chooses his ice cream, say "Naaah, you don't want
that," and proceed to pick it for him.
* If the customer is of Asian heritage, look him straight in the eye,
spit on his food, and call him a Dirty Red. Then say, "I remember
what you did to our boys in Nam." Then stare intently at him for
a few minutes.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Sheik Condoms: Take One"
As Pooped in a Bucket By, Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
Pope: Hey whores!
Whores: Oh, look! It's Pope John Paul II!
Pope: You want to get with me you gotta let me use a condom baby!
Hey ... wait a second. I don't get this. The church doesn't even sanction
the use of condoms.
Director: That's irrelevant, sir. Could we just shoot the
commercial?
Pope: But it doesn't make any sense. Why would someone who visits a
prostitute care about using a condom?
Director: That's not the point. We're trying to sell condoms here.
Visiting prostitutes is something people wouldn't expect the Pope to do.
Therefore, it's a memorable commercial.
Pope: Well, what I don't understand is why me visiting a prostitute
is so unheard of. I mean, back during the war...
Director: The point is, sir, prostitutes are a major problem in
today's society. People wouldn't picture the Pope endorsing them.
Pope: Prostitutes aren't our problem. Our problem is the Jews and
the blacks.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"What's This Responsibility Bullshit?"
Written & Performed by Mercuri & ap0c
E-mail: mercuri@rad.edu or ap0c@rad.edu
[Mercuri speaks.]
Ap0c offered me a job teaching HTML & basic Internet usage to seventh
& eighth graders at my high school for six dollars an hour, for either four
or eight hours a day. I chose four hours -- but that's besides the point;
the real fun begins on the Monday I started work.
The first day I got stuck helping this kid -- I'll just call him
"Retard" for the sake of anonymity and simplicity. Retard is a very, very
slow learner. I can't really recreate it, so I won't even try, but I had to
go over things with him constantly.
[-----]
Funny things that happened:
Retard tried to type in http://www.Duke Nukem 3D.com/ and he asked
why it didn't work. I said: "Gee, I dunno, it worked for me earlier!"
[-----]
Someone asked, "How do I find information on Baseball?"
"Here." [I type in www.yahoo.com]
"What's this?"
"Yahoo, it's a search engine."
"How do I use it?"
"What do you mean? It's Yahoo. Type in what you want in the box."
[-----]
We successfully got our high school k-lined from every IRC server in
existance.
[-----]
When they practiced their newly found HTML skills they all had to make
a personal page. Retard wrote, "I HAVE CAT," & he didn't know how to spell
"black," he left out the C. He wrote a page about his sister and her
boyfriend; the only information it contained was their height. Exciting.
[-----]
We convinced one kid that Ap0c wrote Quake, and that's why he's so
good at it.
Ap0c: "I was thinking about selling it but I don't know if anyone
would want it."
Merc: "Yeah, they go for that Mario Brothers stuff."
And one kid looked at me and said, "Are you Luigi?"
[Maybe that's because I'm tall and I was wearing a plain
white shirt and jeans, but that's beyond the point I'm
trying to make.]
So then he doubled over and started thrusting his hands at the ground
and making farting noises.
Ap0c & Me: "What the hell are you doing?!"
Kid: "Luigi's a plumber!"
*Kid makes more fart noises*
Kid: "& then he takes the bong..."
*Taking a hit from an imaginary bong*
Kid: [nonsensical words]
Ap0c & Me: "How old are you?"
Kid: "I'm going into sixth grade."
*More fart noises*
Ap0c: "Have you ever been on medication?"
Kid: "Ritalin, but they took me off it 'cause the teacher asked me
a question and I was 'TEE PEE FOR MY BUNGHOLE!'"
He said so much more weird, offbeat shit -- that's the gist of it,
though.
[-----]
[Enter Ap0c.]
I got stuck teaching a small Asian child for a few days. This small
Asian child, whom we shall call Retard2 (sue me), had a unique obsession with
The Simpsons. Retard2, who was slightly smarter than your average
television set, after several attempts at typing "simpson" and "homer" in
the GO box of Netscape, found a site with a few simpsons .WAVs. He found
these to be quite entertaining, and decided that playing them several
hundred times a day, at various intervals to be extremely funny. His
favorite seemed to be homer screaming "Where's my burrito?!" Not that this
wasn't funny, at first. But after the seven-hundred and thirty-eighth
time, it became quite repulsive.
[-----]
A few days later, when the children were assigned to do a project of
their choosing, Retard2 decided to do -- amazingly enough -- The Simpsons.
One week later, after having around twenty-one hours of time to find things
to put on his page, this boy had one completed page. It contains one
paragraph, a MIDI (which I placed on his page for him, I'm so nice), a link
to a WAV file, and several pictures of Homer.
Retard2 also had three other unfinished files, which were extremely
interesting. First, let me inform you that this child started every page
exactly (EXACTLY) the same. "hi my name is retard2". After two days of
class time working on his Bart page, it contained these wise words.
[in the title]: bart page
[in the body]: hi my name is retard2.
With a spiffy blue background.
[-----]
Whilst working with several other children, I stumbled upon a child
with a slight amount of intelligence in him. He, after several hours of
repetitive "less than, c-e-n-t-e-r, greater than, less than,
a-space-h-r-e-f....' dictation, began to pick up on the fundamentals of
HTML. He was doing well enough until the last day they had to work. he
tugged on my shirt as Merc and I walked past.
Kid: "Hey, why don't all my pictures fit on my disk?"
Ap0c: "I dunno, how big are they?"
Kid: "I dunno."
Ap0c: "How many are there?"
Kid: "Fifty," he said, quite matter-of-factly.
Merc: "They should fit, you are doing it wrong."
This pillar of American youth decided that a page with 50 pictures of
former basketball stars was going to be a great project. Fifty. Period.
Keep in mind this all had to fit on a 1.44 MB floppy disk.
[-----]
Ahh, Retard3. I was informed that this boy was "special." He
fancied himself a chef. I was forced to help this child, along with
Retard2, a little bit longer than the rest. The boy, who is going to be in
the 8th grade next fall, had extreme trouble putting together rational
sentences. Here are a few of his brilliant quotes:
"My name is retard3, I like to cook Mexican cooking is what I do
best. because it uses food that people dont normly eat."
"When you cook you for people you put your self on the line. You
wonder if they will like your food."
And his outstanding header for his page...
"retard3webpage"
Taken directly from his pages, I swear to it.
[-----]
Did I mention the part about the kid who scanned every member of his
family? There was another student, whose mother obviously had a grand
scheme for digitizing the entire family album, who never ONCE touched an
HTML document. All of his time was spent in front of and using the scanner
we let the kids use. Out of 8 days of class, he never once left the
scanner. Not once. Merc and myself LOST COUNT of how many pictures were
scanned in the first week, and tallied 49 for the second week. Note that
the second week was a mere 3 days long.
[-----]
Various quotes from the kids' pages:
"Click here to read my basketball team. "
"Chewbacca and Han Solo are my most favorite charaters"
"He trained at least 296 apprentices, but the emperor elimeanated
alost all the jedi but was to late in converting Darth Vader because he was
already married and had already produced offspring and he had a son and a
daughter who had been split up at birth for they would have been killed if
they hadn't but, the empire didn't want him to produce any offspring so they
converted him to the dark side of the force because he was still a threat to
the galatic empire. "
Ap0c's Note: Yes, that is one sentence.
"i have cat"
Merc's Note: This is supposed to be a REVIEW of Lord of The Realms 2:
"Sierra is our favorite strategy game company.
Lords of the Realm II is our favorite Sierra game.
There are five different types of castles.
There are seven different men.
There are four different nobles."
"i have cat he is 2feet big"
[-----]
A brief description of the other student aides.
Faggot1: A tall and rather lanky looking boy, he is 18 and is going to be
a Junior in high school next year. I believe his younger brother
(16) is going to be in the eighth grade. He spent most of his
two weeks hitting on ten- and eleven-year old girls, along with
talking about how great Ozzy Osbourne is. He could only do that
when he wasn't defending himself -- the 7th graders kept calling
him names.
Little Faggot: A red-headed child, he also enjoyed hitting on the young
girls, as well as working on his Disney homepage. The URL is
http://cgi.icongrp.com/~smarshal/. This boy is sixteen years
old -- folks, that's old enough to drive in my state.
White Trash Princess: A tall and (yet again) lanky, dirty girl, who was
raised in a mighty fine trailer park somewhere near
the High School. Another death-metal girl, she
told us of all the concerts she'd never been too.
I believe this girl was very tough, tough enough
to do without the benefit of soap and running water
for long periods of time.
Large Beastial Faggot: Ahh, The Mighty LBF. He also enjoyed hitting on
the young'ns, as well as sucking the instructor's
ass on command. He is a large, hairy, greasy boy,
and vaguely resembles cro-magnon man.
Note: These are only a few of the aides. Some of us were vaguely normal.
[-----]
I [Mercuri] just sat in a computer in the back, helped no one, and
installed mIRC on their shitty Windows 3.1 system. My actions have not been
questioned & I hope I still get paid my $6.00 per hour.
So if you want to see some funny shit, go to
http://www.icongrp.com/~cphs/97/ to view their web pages.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"The Final Slap In The Face"
Scrawled in Blood (but not really) by Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
If I was ever to commit suicide I would jump out of a really high
window and leave a note at the top saying, "I accidentally fell out the
window."
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Bible Lessons"
as taught by TMM
Email: tmm@rad.edu
Betty: "How could you?"
Billy: "How could I do what?"
Betty: "You sold me into slavery, you pig!"
Billy: "Yup, I did just that, honey."
Betty: "How could you think of such a thing, you're supposed to be my loving
husband!"
Billy: "Well, in the Old Testament, God teaches us that wives should be
submissive slaves to their husbands, who are the true masters of
their households."
Betty: "So that means you're allowed to sell me into slavery?"
Billy: "Yup, I'm the master, dear. The Bible has given me a proverbial
blank check to beat you, rape you, abuse you &, of course, sell you
into slavery."
The moral of the story, children, is that if you're smart enough, you
can use the Bible for your own financial benefit.
Little Girl: "But Mr. TMM, what about me, how could I use it for that?"
*Smack!*
Little Girl: <crying> "Why did you do that to me, Mr. TMM?
TMM: "Because you weren't listening. If you HAD been listening you
would know that God tells me, in the bible mind you, that
because I'm a man, I can do that."
Little Girl: "But that's not right! Girls are people too!"
*Smack!*
Little Girl: <bawling> "Why did you slap me again, Mr. TMM?"
TMM: "Because, my little child, you committed BLASPHEMY!"
<The class gasps>
Little Girl: "What do you mean 'blasphemy'?"
TMM: "I just told you, _GOD_ SAID that women don't have rights. For
you to question His Greatness is BLASPHEMY!"
<The class gasps>
Little Girl: "I'm sorry Mr. TMM, I just thought--"
TMM: "Women aren't supposed to think, just shut up & get me a Coke."
Little Girl: "Yes, sir."
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Dear Handle"
Packed In The Cheeks Of - Handle
E-mail: handle@pla-net.net
Dear Handle,
okay, so i'm at target, right? and I SEE
SOME CLOTHES, YOU KNOW HOW IT IS. so, i go
to try them on - the FITTING ROOM IS GONE.
it has been relocated to an area known as the
GIRLS CLOTHING AREA so i'm going to try on
these clothes, and i've got this goof grin on
my face I LOOK LIKE SLOTH DAMMIT AND PEOPLE
ARE STARING AT ME LIKE I'M THIS WEIRD CROSSY
PERVERT DRESSER AND ALL I WANTED WERE A PAIR
OF JEANS!
Signed,
Confused in Carthage
Dear Confused,
I can completely understand what you're saying here. Dressing room
situations can become awkward fast if they're not handled in the appropriate
manner. In answer to your question ... oh, wait! You didn't have a
question! Cute guy over here happens to think I've got all fucking day to
sit around and listen to his amusing anecdotes! Well, up yours! You just
wasted a portion of my life that I can never get back. Next time you think
you're gonna get cute and submit a little story to someone who's asking for
questions think about my foot up your ass, because that's what's going to
happen if you ever pull this shit again. No one likes a smartass.
[------]
Dear Handle,
I shall take your souls and cast them into the depths of hell,
watching forever as you scream in agony. By the way, how long should I
cook a human head for at 350 degrees (f)? My cookbook does not say.
Signed,
Gourmet in Guadalajara
Dear Gourmet,
That's a good question, and I'm glad that you asked that. It all
depends on the race of the head. Honkies are paler, so they will burn
faster. If you happen to be cooking a whitebread, you're going to want to
put him in for 45 minutes, being sure to rotate him once at least every five
minutes. Now, if you're cooking anything darker, (blacks, mexicans, what
have you) you're going to have to cook it for about an hour. It's only
necessary to rotate them every fifteen minutes. It might be a good idea to
slightly boil black men before cooking because they have really thick
skulls.
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I have this obsession with fat women. My hard drive is littered with
nudie pics of fat chicks. My mom found them one day, and wants to send me to
counseling!! help me!
Signed,
Obese in Oglesville
Dear Obese,
I have first-hand experience in dealing with this situation because
Mercuri used to have a similar problem. There's one simple way out of this
and if you do what I say you'll never look at more than one fat woman again
in your life. Now, here's what you do, take naked pictures of your fat-ass
mother. Begin fornicating with your mother. Spend your days and nights
either looking at your mother or pictures of her. If you do this I can
guarantee your problem with fat women will go away. Hmm, perhaps I'm taking
this incest joke a little too far...
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I have a problem wit those things, whatcha call dem? Doors? With
those handles? How do ya go through them? I just don't get why they gots
to keep all the buildings inside with all them doors. Now windows, them I
understand. They smash up real good, but doors, I just don't like em. The
pig shed what I live in don't got any doors, and me and the pigs get along
just fine. I think doors are a red plot.
Signed,
Lost in Leningrad
Dear Lost,
Dude! Just have sex with one of your family members! Hahaha! Get
it? I'm talking about incest! Cause I'm from Indiana, and people from
Indiana are hillbillies! Hahahaha!
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I am constantly taking it up the ass, from people I dont even know!!!
Signed,
I'm constantly taking it up the ass from people I don't even know.
Dear I'm constantly taking it up the ass from people I don't even know,
Man, that was funny. I almost hurt myself that was so funny. Imagine
that! Taking it up the ass! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Seriously though, you're a
fucking moron. Don't litter my inbox with this worthless shit. Do you
have a single brain cell in your measely little mind? How can you be so
goddamned stupid?
[-------]
Dear Handle,
One of my best friends, we just found out, came out of the closet.
This is quite upsetting, as you could probably understand, because he's been
goin out with more chicks that the most popular kid at school (me). We've
been friends for neat 4 years, should we still be friends?
Signed,
Confused in Crimshaw
Dear Confused,
Oh yeah, I'm sure you're real popular. Anybody who has time to write
out their problems on an obscure webpage has got to be cool. Man, can I be
your friend? My advice, stick with the faggot. He's probably the only
friend you'll ever have. And take it from me, you don't know how good of
friends gays can be. Hehe. :) :) :) :)
[-------]
Dear Handle,
Greetings from the United Soviet Socialist Republic, comrade Handle. I
am here to ask you a question: recently, friends have accused me of being a
dirty capitalist pig. What should I do?
Signed,
Red in Russia,
Dear Red,
This is truly a serious offense. Everyone knows that capitalism is
no way to run an economy. All of us here in America should be burned for
thinking we could get away with our sins. And I can see by the fact that
you're from the USSR that this message must have been greatly delayed. I
apologize for the tardiness of this reply.
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I have this problem with my little boy, Laura. Every time I take him
outside, the crazy little schmuck runs around in the yard until he finds a
load and starts eating dog shit! My wife believes that it is just a phase
(ya know, that Can't-Stop-Eating-Dog-Shit phase), but I think that it may be
something deeper. Please, tell me what I can do to stop this kid from
eating all the shit in this world!
Signed,
Hungry in Hebron
Dear Hungry,
I can see a simple answer to your problem. Your boy wouldn't be
eating this dog shit unless he was getting some sort of pleasure out of it.
So, all you have to do is to put something in the shit to make it taste bad.
It's pretty obvious really. Maybe you can smear some broccoli on the turds,
if I've learned anything from sitcoms, it's that kids hate broccoli.
[-------]
Dear Handle,
Your zine is great, and I read it every time.. You're my heroes..
Can I get a signed photograph of you? In your boxers preferably.
Ok, that's the worshipping part.
Now, the only bad thing about your zine is Mercuri! The Fascist... He's
mean.. He's UGLY.. He's a FUCKING IDIOT. Me and my communist friends are
gonna form a Anti-Mercurism army, and KILL HIM!#@$ We're gonna hang him from
his dick from the Empire State Building, we're gonna stick a razor up his
ass and let him spin. We're gonna rip his eyes out, and play fetch with his
head. His dick would be nice for .. uhmm... nothing.
Apart from that, your zine is great.
Hugs and Kisses,
CommieGurl
Dear CommieGurl,
First off, let me say, I love this letter. It starts off strong as
the young lady compliments me on my talents and only gets better as she
pinpoints all of Mercuri's faults. Letters don't get much better than this,
I see no problem here.
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I have this nasty problem getting decent grades anymore. Maybe it's
just me... but ever since I got this new set of teachers, my grades kept
slipping farther and farther down... I mean, here I am throughout my past
with great grades, and suddenly, I take these tests that I feel great about
and i'm getting these low F's and D's for no apparant reason... i'm thinking
conspiracy or perhaps even a big fat lie right in front of my face called
'the system'. Is it just me or is all of the world turning to the opposite
of what it used to be?????
Signed,
Screwed in Santa Fe
Dear Screwed,
Yeah! Damn the man! Woo, rebel! Fight the system! Here's a
thought, Skippy, maybe you're getting bad grades because you're stupid.
Look at the letter you just sent me. Is it just me, or is that the biggest
run-on sentence ever written?
[-------]
Dear Handle,
hey man my nme is hempboy!!, and im here to
talk to yu about poT! but hold on the joint
is bei ng passed 2 me............. OK wow
thats HARSHTTUFF! hehhEH anyway i just wnatd
2 say thAT POT IS NOT BAD 4 UU AND oh shit
the caps lock key was on when i wazntlooking!!
(im realy baekd now!) where was i o yah i
wanted 2 tell u That POT isnt bad 4 u! i mene
i m VERY smart kid sometimes evn peopl tell
me that . i get good grades in scholl and
stuff nd i m just tryng 2 sayh that handul u
should smoke POT cuz it improovs u'r imagnation
and LEGALIZE IT MAN cuz i fujck the bowl is
kashhed ........ oh handle i read ur magazine
eviry iisheu that cums OUT hahaha CUMS OUT!!
i thik its REALL Y FUNNY & yuo should put this
in the next isue 4 me ok?????? heere it goez:
L E G AL I Z E I T M A N!!!
ok o yah i al so wanted 2 askk u what u thihk
oh fujkk my frind tipped ovefr the waterbong
and isT all over muy flooor! do uj think
that cybpress hill ROX er what dude??????
HEMPBOYY
Dear Hempboy,
Dude, Mercuri! That better not be you again! Aw, shit! You're
smoking my hash again! What the ...? Where the fuck's my frozen burritos?
My Grateful Dead CDs? Aw, this shit's bunk. Dude, we're gonna have a major
talk about this. Peace.
[-------]
Dear Handle,
I have a prob.. I mean, my friend has a problem with roids. Not
steroids, as you might be thinking, but hemmeroids. He's in a lot of pain
and says it really hurts to go to the toilet, and occasionally he ends up
with blood on his sheets. (And it's not from those late night visits from
daddy, either) I read in a book once that you're supposed to get surgery if
the roid is as big as the knuckle of your thumb.
So my question is, how do I.. I mean, how can my friend buy beer
without getting carded?
Signed,
Skrubly in Skandanavia,
Dear Skrubly,
What's beer?
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"Hilarious, Amazing, Outrageous, Fallacious & TRUE Stories"
as written by another stupid person, TMM
Email: tmm@rad.edu
So here we are again, retracing the well-worn theme of stupid people
& the truly ridiculous things that they do. This time I have an added bonus
for you. We all know what kind of stupid things stupid people do, now it's
time to see what actually happens to stupid people as a result of their
stupid actions.
Poetic justice? (I'm not talking about that horrible movie) Maybe,
call it what you want, it's all true nevertheless.
A fierce gust of wind blew 45-year-old Vittorio Luise's car into a
river near Naples, Italy, in 1983. He managed to break a window, climb out
& swim to shore -- where a tree blew over and killed him.
Mike Stewart, 31, of Dallas was filming a movie in 1983 on the
dangers of low-level bridges when the truck he was standing on passed under
a low-level bridge -- killing him.
Walter Hallas, a 26-year-old store clerk in Leeds, England, was so
afraid of dentists that in 1979 he asked a fellow worker to try to cure his
toothache by punching him in the jaw. The punch caused Hallas to fall down,
hitting his head, & he died of a fractured skull.
George Schwartz, owner of a factory in Providence, R.I., narrowly
escaped death when a 1983 blast flattened his factory except for one wall.
After treatment for minor injuries, he returned to the scene to search for
files. The remaining wall then collapsed on him, killing him.
Depressed since he could not find a job, 42-year-old Romolo Ribolla
sat in his kitchen near Pisa, Italy, with a gun in his hand threatening to
kill himself in 1981. His wife pleaded for him not to do it, & after about
an hour he burst into tears & threw the gun to the floor. It went off &
killed his wife.
In 1983, a Mrs. Carson of Lake Kushaqua, N.Y., was laid out in her
coffin, presumed dead of heart disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly
sat up. Her daughter dropped dead of fright.
A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back
down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so
he could collect insurance money. The car rolled forward & crushed him to
death.
Surprised while burgling a house in Antwerp, Belgium, a thief fled
out the back door, clambered over a nine-foot wall, dropped down & found
himself in the city prison.
In 1976 a twenty-two-year-old Irishman, Bob Finnegan, was crossing
the busy Falls Road in Belfast, when he was struck by a taxi and flung over
its roof. The taxi drove away &, as Finnegan lay stunned in the road,
another car ran into him, rolling him into the gutter. It too drove on.
As a knot of gawkers gathered to examine the magnetic Irishman, a delivery
van plowed through the crowd, leaving in its wake three injured bystanders
& an even more battered Bob Finnegan. When a fourth vehicle came along,
the crowd wisely scattered & only one person was hit -- Bob Finnegan. In
the space of two minutes Finnegan suffered a fractured skull, broken pelvis,
a broken leg, & other assorted injuries. Hospital officials said he would
recover.
Two West German motorists had an all-too-literal head-on collision in
heavy fog near the small town of Guetersloh. Each was guiding his car at a
snail's pace near the center of the road. At the moment of impact their
heads were both out of the windows when they smacked together. Both men
were hospitalized with severe head injuries. Their cars weren't scratched.
Hitting on the novel idea that he could end his wife's incessant
nagging by giving her a good scare, Hungarian Jake Fen built an elaborate
harness to make it look as if he had hanged himself. When his wife came
home & saw him she fainted. Hearing a disturbance a neighbor came over &,
finding what she thought were two corpses, seized the opportunity to loot
the place. As she was leaving the room, her arms laden, the outraged &
suspended Mr. Fen kicked her stoutly in the backside. This so surprised the
lady that she dropped dead of a heart attack. Happily, Mr. Fen was
acquitted of manslaughter & he and his wife were reconciled.
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"A Space Oddyssey"
Appreciated by Mercuri
E-mail: mercuri@rad.edu
During the heat of the space race in the 1960's, the U.S. National
Aeronautics and Space Administraton decided it needed a ball point pen to
write in the zero gravity confines of its space capsules.
After considerable reaserch and development, the Astronaut Pen was
developed at a cost of about $1 million.
The pen worked and also enjoyed some modest success as a novelty item
back here on earth.
The Soviet Union, faced with the same problem, used a pencil.
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"Editor's Corner"
Edited by Phorce
E-mail: phorce@rad.edu
So, by now you've probably heard about our whole "new domain at
rad.edu" fiasco. Neat, huh?
Well, guess who got that *free* (edu's are paid for by a grant from
the National Science Foundation) domain. None other than *me*!
And what do I get in return? Mercuri comes to my *house*! He comes
to my house with a body bag. Really freaked out my parents -- they thought
he was a crazed militia member or something. Apparently he thought I was
dead and showed up to see if he could collect my body or my Official RAD
Military-Style Dog Tags (tm) as proof of identification.
I can understand: it sure seemed like I was dead. I hadn't been
answering my e-mail (somewhat), hadn't made any comments on the submissions
we'd been getting, and I even missed my "appointment" with Handle's sister
behind the barn!
But the last thing he did was the last straw. Merc was so convinced
that I had passed away that he even produced an issue of RAD with my
editorial input! Now, going over my head, that's overstepping his bounds.
That bitch Mercuri needs to know some discipline -- he needs to be taught
a lesson he'll never forget.
So here's the deal: I'm putting out a contract on Mercuri. I want
every e-zine assassin out there to hear this: I WANT A PIECE OF MERCURI
ON MY MANTLE. Specifically, I want his leghair. Every last strand.
Fire up your waxers, womens' razors, and electrolysis machines, all
you 'zine-scene mercenaries. I'm paying $1 per 1-inch strand of leghair.
All claims should be mailed to:
Mercuri's Leghair
P.O. Box 1263
Maplewood, NJ 07040
Mercuri is excluded from this offer.
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"Femstat 3: Take One"
As Chundered by, Handle
E-mail: handle@rad.edu
Director: Action!
Pope: I, for one, hate yeast infections, and I hear now they're
coming out with these new one-day yeast infection treatments. Well, doctors
say these can be irritating and uneffective. That's why I use "Femstat 3."
Because, when you think about it, isn't three days a short enough time to
wait for effective treatment? The answer is yes, even for someone who hates
yeast infections as much as me.
Director: Cut! That was beautiful!
Pope: You know, it came surprisingly natural to me.
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Radioactive Aardvark Dung E-Zine :: ISSN 1092-5449
Issue #17 % Released June 27, 1997
*NEW* WWW Site :: http://www.rad.edu
FTP Site :: ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/rad
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RAD E-Zine :: PO Box 584 :: Crown Point, IN :: 46307
ATTN SysOps :: Be Sure To Read DISTRO.APP
This month's anagram :: Ravaged Air-raid Vodka Cunt.
Try to hack this :: http://www.rad.edu/rhs
Without Prejudice and Explicit Reservation of All My Rights, UCC 1-207
(C) 1997 Aardvark Industries <aardvark@rad.edu>
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