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+ hide your children, hide your valuables, hide your silverware, and run!@ +

- + ------------------------------------------------------------------------ + -
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- + ------------------------------------------------------------------------ + -
yellow journal # 2 - revista de amarillo numero dos - yellow journal # 2
- + ------------------------------------------------------------------------ + -

+ sunday, april 7th, 1996 - easter sunday - find your eggs and your candy! +

--- -- -]

"it isn't the size of the dog in the fight.
it is the size of the fight in the dog."

--- -- -]

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -

this issues contents
01. introduction
02. corrections
03. malibu shores
04. first every advertisment
05. parental control
06. poo ad
07. no doubt
08. beautiful girls
09. baseball
10. just a girl
11. we got a place to be
12. a joke
13. easter
14. the talking dog
15. pissed off
16. broken arrow
17. what not to ask
18. cool stuff
19. prejudice and more prejudice
20. me f0ur!@
21. silence
22. hacking
23. disney
24. yellow journal logo
25. the hackers manifesto
26. jive net
27. stephen king
28. umney's last case by stephen king
29. grades
30. toodle-lu

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
01 [ introduction - by big hurt ]

okay. i'm bringing you another issue of yellow journal. this time it should
be much better. since the last issue. i was just trying to release it by the
beginning to mid march. then i had enough to release and i released. but this
issue will be worked on a lot more and should be better reading with a lot
more stories and articles. well i've got more people to supply articles for
your reading pleasure. i'm sure something in this zine will spark your
interests. anyways, this zine has come a way since the lsat release. we've
got more writers, besides myself. we've also got a offical net, called
jive net. the whq for jive net is vomitorium. the app is included in the
zip this zine came in. if you didnt get this zine in a zip, then look for
the file: jive_app.zip. it was a quicky app coded by balls wilson. also,
we've got a new whq for yellow journal, entropy. which i will go more into
detail later on.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
02 [ corrections - by big hurt ]

well in the first issue of yellow journal i made a few mistakes, but the
major one that i found was in the header it said "like putting them out.
Yellow Journal Issue Number is released on ... " well i forgot to put in the
issue number. but it was pretty easy figure out i hope for you since when
you downloaded it was yj-001.zip and when you unzipped it, it was yj-001.txt.
so if you couldnt figure out it was the first issue, then i feel sorry for
you.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
03 [ malibu shores - by big hurt ]

the season premiere for malibu shores was on last night. it was a two hour
movie premiere to thickin the plot for the rest of the season. it was
really good and if you missed it, i feel sorry for you, because it was a
must see.

keri russel, who played clowie did a good job at her character and then the
guy she meet at the beach zack did a very good job. it looks like they
both have good careers for them. and this will be the ice breaker for both
of there careers.

the show was produced by aaron spelling. the guy that produced bevery hills,
90120 and melrose place. which i might add where both good shows. but this
show i believe is much better. it seems more real to life than 90120 was
because of something the actors are doing. they play there character very
well and dont have too much drama, but enough to make it real.

the show is on saturday nights in arizona on channel 12 from 7 to 8 pm.
check your local listings to find out what time malibu shores is on.

04 - -- --- ---- first advertisment to be in yellow journal ---- --- -- - -

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...poo..6o2.589.o791..sop.trip/misfit..apathy world headqaurters..ascii.blatz..

- - -- --- ---- dont you feel so lucky mr trip sir ---- --- -- - -

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
05 [ parental control - by clark ]

Okay, seeing that I just have been relieved of a week long period of
being grounded I felt I had a good background in this area. What area you
ask? Well todays issue is parental control and the effects it has on a young
"adult". Laugh at me you may but this is rather a serious topic that all
teens face at one point in their life. After sitting through a rather, how
should I say, a extremely degrading conversation with my father where he
repeadely said I was a stupid and had no idea of what my responsibilties are,
I sat there and tried to figure out where this anger was comeing from. Did
my father just like to yell at me and that he found it quite amusing? Well
that is very much true and I believe in this whole heartedly. However I sat
there and realized that.. hold on.. Yes indeed.. <gasp> my parents did care
about me. Shunned beyond belief, it took me several minutes to actually
catch my breath. This is supposed to be a period of my life where the
child is supposed to rebel against his parents, disregard all that they spoke
of. What was wrong with me? I actually was listening to what my father was
trying to get across to me. No not the part about me being an idiot <my
grades can prove that one>, but that I had not held my responsibiltys
through. I put my parents through over an hour of grief as I came home
almost an hour and a half past my curfew. The whole time I never once
thought my parents would care. After realizing where they were comeing from
<quite surprised I must admit>, I've decided to, yes, actually listen to them
and obey the guidlines that they set for me. After all, I turn 18 in two
more years and I can move out of the house and live on my own, so I might as
well give my parents some time where they can actually feel like they control
me. So the moral of the story is.." Whenever a monkey sticks his cock in a
guys beer, its funny as hell and its okay to laugh." -- THE END.
article by -- clark
(ponder it, luv it, squeeze it)

06 - -- --- ---- first advertisment to be in yellow journal ---- --- -- - -

cOLOR? eYE dONT nEED kNOE sTEEKING cOLOR.
..................................................
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__/\__ _ __ _____ __________________________.
\ aO / ____ ____
/_\/_\ ..��� \_ .' pOo -- oP: tRIP -- hN! distrO ..`. _/ ���..
\/ `-------------------------------------'

- - -- --- ---- i bet you feel like the shit trip!@ ---- --- -- - -

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
07 [ no doubt - by big hurt ]

well today i had a phat wallet with me. i was always with my friend when he
was shopping with his sister, staci, and his mother. we were also at millers
outpost and they had alot of stuff on sale. good for them, right? well. i
wasnt going to buy anything at all. i didnt even plan on going there to buy
anything. not spend a fucking dime. i was really along to get out of my
house, look at his sister, and give him some advise on the stuff to buy.

wrong. well i did look at his sister and did kind of help him pick some of
the stuff he did buy. anyways, i was looking at the no fear shirts. i never
ever had a no fear shirt. after prolly 20 minutes of looking around and
putting grubby paws all over the various no fear shirts they had, i finally
got a white one, that a sports cup (fer fucking nuts). below that it said:
"committed to keeping men & their balls together as one". and below that is
said no fear (like not shit) and then it said "parts dept".

since i play baseball i thought it would a nice jester to get something that
deals with baseball. the most important thing to men that play baseball is
the cup. why you ask? like duh. and if you dont know why, then go ask mommy
and daddy.

well we got everything and then my friend wanted to go to the mall and look
around. so we did and by that time i was determined to blow the rest of my
money. what the hell, i'm getting a check from the government for $50 (like
it will ever get here). i was going to buy a bass guitar from balls wilson,
a local bbser to me, but some how i accidentaly spent that money on a "no
doubt" cd and the new "adam sandler" cd, called "what the hell happened to
me?". i've listend to like 8 songs on the "adam sandler" cd and i'm currently
listing to the last half of the "no doubt" cd, which is pretty good. i've
heard many things about the cd and questioned purchasing the album myself,
but it is better than people have said it was. my favorite song is just a
girl and spiderwebs, along with other songs, that i dont the know the names
of because i dont have the cd in front of my face. it is in the other room
next to my stereo player.

so if you like hearing a chick sing and like alternative music and rock,
then i suggest getting no doubt's album "tradgic kingdom". it is quite good.
also, i've seen gwen who does the vocals for the band preform on mtv and
seen parts of the video and she just seems really hyper and gets into the
music on stage. one of the kids on my baseball team say that they where
good in concert when they opened for bush here in arizona.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
08 [ beautiful girls - by zeus ]

An Theory on Evolution in Progress

It seems that everywhere I look that people are getting it. Yeah,
thats right. Sex is everywhere. Sex, Sex, Sex. I can remember just a few
decades ago when sex wasn't even discussed. So it is natural to ask why.
Why?
While it is true that mass media in the forms of tv, radio,
telephones and others came together in the past few years, I don't think
that the messages these forms convey are enough to push America and the rest
of the World over the edge.
It has to be something inside.
Remember back to the fifties. Remember the nick-at-nightesque shows
which aired. These were some of the best looking people of their time.
Go and open up that treasured family picture album of the family back in
Europe. Notice that they don't look that great. Auntie Ruth had an
interesting facial structure, to say the least, eh?
Now remeber back to today at school. Some great looking people
indeed. Remember that one girl? You know, the petite blue-eyed blonde who
makes you think of things that shouldn't exactly be disscussed at the dinner
table. My school has about a billion of these "beautiul girls,". Now I don't
know what the thought process is for women, but my guess is it is the same in
the sense that they know who looks better than someone else.
Refer back to Auntie Ruth's picture. Blah! Not exactly the cheerleader
in homeroom.
Now I believe in evolution, and "survival of the fittest," but not in
the same huge scale that it is on. I don't believe it took us 900 million
year to lose some hair and get that crink out of our back.
I mean, come on. Doesn't it look as if people got better looking as of
late? Did you want to do Auntie Ruth instead of that half the girls last hour?
If a species doesn't breed, they die out. Pretty simple to me. So if
we do it more, isn't it likely that we have more kids? So, isn't it natural
for people to breed to look better? Why not? To silly? I doubt it. Some
animals evolve extra appendages to help feeding. Or webbed feet to help
swimming. And this on an animal which resides in the air. (A duck, stupid.)
Everywhere you look, beautiful people. Left, right.
Maybe even across. Hmm, didn't always seem like this.
If this isn't Darwinian theory, then what is happening to us? I
personnally think we look great. At least as a whole. I also think that we
didn't always look this good. Bust out that history book you haven't looked
at all year. Check out the renaissance, the enlightment, the revoltuion. This
is when paintings finally became accurate. I personnally don't think that
Catherine the Great was that great at all. How about Marie Antoinette? I
would have to say about a 4.
Refer back to Auntie Ruth's mug. Well, better than Joan of Arc.
I think it has been centuries of evolution, but it has been up until
the past few decades when mother nature took a good look at itself and
decided it would trace the face before painting it on.
Radical evoultion in the past few years, I'm telling you.

So, savor this time of our own greatness, and make sure to roll around
in it; that is what it is meant for.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
09 [ baseball - by big hurt ]

well my team finally won our first season game. after we won two games in a
tournament weeks ago. we arent that bad, we havent been coming together as a
whole. we havent been playing like a team should be playing. so we finally
won, after we started to gel a little bit more.

we won 5 - 4 as i pitched 5 strong innings, striking out 5 batters and
walking 3 batters and giving up about 6 hits. i also kept my streak of
hitting a batter every single game. i'm not trying to hit the batter, it
just seems that i've lost my control at times.

well we had hamburgers after the game, cause of all of the hit - a - thon
money that we brought in. glad we won on that day, so we could enjoy our
burgars going down, while we tried to digest them.

anyways, i've still got more to learn, mostly mental. but after buying and
reading a book called "the pitching edge" by tom house, phd (one of the best
pitching coaches in the major leagues), i've learned that i need to change
certain things in my mechanics and my delivery, so that i dont totally fuck
my arm up, so i dont have a chance at playing college ball and possibly pro
ball. one of my coaches which played pro ball, says i have a good chance at
making it to the pros, as long i change my mechanics and doing everything
right, espically what the book says, not so much of what my pitching coach
says. he is pretty good and he trying to do something, but i've realized that
he doesnt know all of that much of pitching, at least not the right stuff at
the proper time.

anyways, sorry to bore you with this article, but i just had to sit down and
write it. i know someone will read it and like it or hate it.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
10 [ just a girl - by no doubt ]

i thought i would share my song lyrics for just a girl, no doubt's most
famous song.

take this pink ribbon off my eyes
i'm exposed
and it's no big surprise
don't you think i know
exactly where i stand
this world is forcing me
to hold your hand

'cause i'm just a girl, little ol' me
don't let me out of your sight
i'm just a girl, all pretty and petite
so don't let me have any rights
oh...i've had it up to here!

the moment that i step outside
so many reasons
for me to run and hide
i can't do the little things
i hold so dear
'cause it's all those little things
that i fear

'cause i'm just a girl
i'd rather not be
'cause they won't let me drive
late at night
i'm just a girl
guess i'm some kind of freak
'cause they all sit and stare
with their eyes
i'm just a girl
take a good look at me
just your typical prototype
oh...i've had it up to here!
oh...am i making myself clear?

i'm just a girl
i'm just a girl in the world...
that's all that they will let me be!

i'm just a girl, living in captivity
your rule of thumb
makes me worry some
i'm just a girl, what's the destiny?
what i've succumbed to
is making me numb
i'm just a girl, my apologies
what i've become is so burdensome
i'm just a girl, lucky me
twiddle-dum there's no comparison
oh...i've had it up to!
oh...i've had it up to!!
oh...i've had it up to here.

there you go the lyrics for just a girl written by gwen stefani, lead vocals,
and tom dumoni, guitar.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
11 [ we got a place to be - by big hurt ]

well guess what. when finally have place to stay. that place is called
entropy. it is a new bbs and will be the first whq's for yellow journal.

it is ran by point man and clark, which i'm pretty close with them. you can
pick up the current issues and last issues of yellow journal. all you have
to do is put this number into your communication software and let it dial:

entropy! (602) 706 - 6201

i haven't had any problems of it being down, until it finally went up 24/7.

so give it a ring and say you are there to get some zines. and also say that
i sent you.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
12 [ a joke - by big hurt ]

this isnt totally my joke. saw it on toastycome in the 602 area.

anyways here it goes.

what is the hardest thing on a black man?

well do you give up.

okay. the answer was. 3rd grade.

hahahaha. that was so funny. anyways, there you go.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
13 [ easter - by big hurt ]

well today is april first. i called up a kid on my baseball team and he
started shitting me that we had a game earlier. so i started freaking out
and he said he was just messing with me. then i just went to look at the
calender and it happened to be april first, april fools day.

this day is even worse than getting pinched when not wearing any green on
saint patricks day. why the fuck do you need to wear green on that day for
anyways? if i dont wanna wear green, i shouldnt get pinched.

anyways, easter was prolly my second favorite holiday ever. besides that
day that you get tons of presents and you get to open them. no i'm not
talking about your birthday. it's christmas fuck nut.

anyhow, easter was fun for me when i was a kid. my mom would get lots of
eggs and she would help me decerate the eggs and all that. then like a week
or two later, i would wake up on that sunday morning looking for those egss.

of course when you were a little kid you would start like at 2 o'clock in
the morning and keep going until you found the last one, cause you knew
how many egss there was, since you helped decerate them. then by the time
your parents woke up, you've found them and you can begin eating breakfast.

i would always have some candy in my basket along with some toy or little
price type deal.

those are the days that i miss. as i begin to realize that the things i eat
are very important. i have to stay more healthy since i plan on going far
in baseball. so i might not be getting that much candy. i kind of mentioned
to my mom that i didnt want any, but i'm sure knowing my mom that she will
getting me some candy.

but it seems weird celebrating holidays since i'm almost an adult. i'm 17
now and getting older by the second. maybe i can enjoy the holidays again
after my life isnt always full of stress and chaos. maybe when i decide to
settle down and start up my own family and have children to spend time with
during the holidays.

i just hope this easter is somewhat special.

so everyone have a happy easter!

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
14 [ the talking dog - by big hurt ]

once upon a time, there was a talking dog, named ralph. anyways, he was not
your normal dog. yes he could talk but still his master, chuck, was very
mean to him and left him tied up to the basketball hoop or a stick in the
yard. even though ralph was smart, he wasn't smart enough to figure some way
to get free from the pole.

well people would come by the house that he was out in front and throw things
at him and just tease him. he didnt understand why people did this to him.
but it still happened regardless.

on a sunny day in april, three older boys, the ages of about 17 or 18, walked
by a saw ralph the dog that they use to beat the shit out of and tease with
t-bone steaks. which ralph never ended up getting.

john : "hey look its ralph", pointing to ralph.
tony : "whats up ralph?"
ralph : "nothing much, just here being tied up to the pole by this rope."
jim : "so how is life treating you."
ralph : "i'm getting sleep and all that. but when my owner comes home drunk,
he likes taking it out on me."
jim : "really. and what do you do. do you just sit there and take it."
ralph : "well yeah. it is like the days when you guys would tease me and
kick and punch me."
tony : "hey, those were the times, werent they?"
john : "hell yeah."
ralph : "they were okay. but there is this fat kid. he is a major cock. he
think he owns this neighborhood. one day he came by and sat on me.
that fat fuck had some harry balls for the age he is."
tony : "really. i think i have hairy balls also. but i usually only let me
girlfriend see those puppies."
ralph : "really. umm, well can you guys let me free from this pole. my owner
comes home, kicks me a few times and then goes inside. at least you
think he could let me go from this pole here and go inside."
jim : "it is a sad thing. you should tell your owner to be nicer to you.
and let you in more often."
ralph : "yeah, i could do that. but he prolly would just end up kicking me
more. where are you guys going?"
john : "we are going to the church dance."
ralph : "hrmm. do you think i could tag along with you cock suckers."
john : "well i dont think so. because i dont think they would let a dog into
our church dance. sorry, maybe the next time we go somewhere else."
ralph : "okay. i see how it is. yeah, yer prolly right. those tight asses at
yer church wouldnt let a dog in."
tony : "sorry ralph."
ralph : "yeah i know. but it would be really nice to go. since i'm a the
right height of looking up and seeing the girls underwear."
jim : "are you really. yeah you would be, wouldnt you?"
ralph : "sure am. too bad i cant go. it is even better when i get the girls
wearing no underwear under there dresses. there was this girl on
time, that i saw she didnt have any underwear. i saw her bend down.
by that time, my cock was nice and hard. so i went up to her and
tried to slip my dick and i happened to get a little bit in, before
she started to push me away. so i just went up to her and started
licking her nice fucking wet pussy. and boy was her pussy wet. i had
her coming everywhere. it was so wet, it looked like a waterfall.
and it tasted so good."
john : "hahahaha. look jim. even the dog is pussy from a human and you cant
even do that."
ralph : "well i'll see you fuckers later."
tony : "okay. later."
jim : "later doggy."
john : "okay. maybe bite yer owner one of these days for me, okay?"
ralph : "yeah, yeah. i'll do that. maybe i'll even bite his nuts and make
them bleed. that would serve him right. well later all."
john : "okay, see you later ralph and dont have to much fun."

john, jim and tony walk away. as ralph watches them go in the distance.

ralph : damn. i wanna lick jim's asshole and smell his crouch.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
15 [ pissed off - by big hurt ]

well right now i'm really fucking pissed off. my coach decides to move me
down to junior varsity to pitch one game. at least that what he says. so
i'm suppose to go practice with them and then pitch a game for them. my arm
hurts anyways. why not rest me. he says it is to build confidence and all
that bullshit. but, i guess my coach just doesnt know how to communicate with
me and get some of this information that he has been trying to feed me across
to me. all he does is basically either yell or says it in a voice that would
make you think he hates you. he gets on my case all of the time. he says that
i'm not mentally tough. maybe that is because of him getting on my case and
wondering if i'm gonna get yelled this play or the next. well some people are
shit heads and some arent, but this months shit head award goes to my coach.

@@
@@@@ <---- terds
@@@@@@
|_ _`@
(|o o %)
| < |
| - | <---- coach
|____|

(this shit head award is awarded to coach, for being the biggest asshole and
shit head on the face of the earth.)

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
16 [ broken arrow - by big hurt ]

i went today to see broken arrow with a friend, which ended up paying for my
way in. which i'm very glad, since i didnt have any money to get into the
movies.

Broken Arrow

(1995)

Directed by John Woo
Written by Graham Yost
Starring: John Travolta, Christian Slater, Samantha Mathis, Delroy
Lindo, Bob Gunton, Frank Whaley, Howie Long, Vondie Curtis-Hall,
Kurtwood Smith.
Cinematographer: Peter Levy
Editors: John Wright, Steve Mirkovich, Joe Hutsching
Production Designer: Holger Gross
Producers: Mark Gordon, Bill Badalato
20th Century Fox / Rated R.

Having at last regained his star status, John Travolta is determined
to enjoy it. His infectiously enthusiastic turn as a villain in
Broken Arrow raises an already exciting action picture into a pure
adrenaline rush.

Travolta plays Maj. Vic Deakins, an Air Force pilot on a training
mission with his partner, Capt. Riley Hale (Christian Slater), to fly
a B-3 Stealth bomber over the Utah desert carrying two nuclear
warheads. Deakins, though, is on another mission -- he ejects Hale
from the cockpit, dumps the unarmed nukes in the desert, abandons the
bomber and lets it crash. The military labels the incident a "broken
arrow,'' code for a lost nuclear weapon.

And, even with the whole of the United States military looking for the
nukes, it's up to Hale to chase Deakins and his mercenaries across the
Utah desert (parts of the film were shot in Utah, but most was shot in
Arizona and Montana). Hale gets some impromptu help from a plucky park
ranger, played by Samantha Mathis (who partnered with Slater in Pump
Up the Volume back in 1990).

As exciting as Travolta, Slater and Mathis are, the real star of
Broken Arrow is director John Woo. The Hong Kong emigre infuses the
movie with the same hyperkinetic energy that he showed in his great
Asian films, The Killer and Hard-Boiled. He adds many of his
trademark touches -- two-fisted gunplay, eye-to-eye standoffs, some
bloody death scenes and really BIG explosions.

Woo is aided by a Hollywood-friendly script by Graham Yost (Speed),
that propels the action on planes, trucks, helicopters and a train.
Yost even throws a few Speed references (in the truck, Mathis is
driving, a la Sandra Bullock) and, for Travolta, a slick Pulp Fiction
reference (shouting "I say goddamn, what a rush!'' much as Uma Thurman
did). For an audience-thrilling (if rather bloody) action picture that
will blow you out of the seats, Broken Arrow is right on target.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
17 [ what not to ask - by clark ]

Just recently I have been lucky enought to, guess what, obtain a
woman for myself. Not saying that I've never had a woman before, but rather
that I got one recently. Get it? Well good, anywayz, after the first long
phone conversation that we shared we established that we werent going to get
serious in any way, but rather just go out, and say that we are "seeing" each
other. Well I thought,"okay this is cool, I can go out with her... and also
try and hook up with this other chick". Well upon realizing that there wasnt
much hope for any kind of fling with this other chick I decided to devote my
time and energy into the one "relationship" I currently had going. Well its
been two weeks now and so I decided to pop the question. No I didnt ask her
to marry me, or to bear my children, but what her feelings were towards me.
The result I received was quite like a slap on the face, except over the
phone. She was disapointed in me for not knowing. How the hell am I going
to know how she feels about me? Anywayz she started crying and hanged up on
me, leaving me feeling quite confused for I hadnt done anything. So my
question is... Why do woman expect us guys to know what they are thinking?
Is there a common belief among the female sex that states that all men have
a working knowledge of telepathy? Tommorrow I will try to get things all
straight with her when she comes over to my house. The moral that I have for
you is "if you fail on the first date of getting her pregnant, make a second
date"
article by -- clark
(ponder it, luv it, squeeze it)

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
18 [ cool stuff - by big hurt ]

well, i was going to place a text file supplied by pointman here, but it was
probably to big and would make this issue of yellow journal to bulky. so ive
decided to keep it as a seperate file. this file is for all of you anarchy
and bomb people. thank pointman for it. yellow journal or any member of
yellow journal is not responsible for any damage caused to you or anybody or
thing during creation or use of the material contained in the anarchy text
file: exp-yj.txt

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
19 [ prejudice and more prejudice - by clark ]

Once again Im back with yet another fabulous piece of information to
give to you, the reader. Todays Topic is ... <drum roll>.. "Prejudice, why
we hate eachother". In today's society we find ourselves degrading other
races and creeds for their opinions or their beliefs. We turn are face to
those who think differently, we laugh at those that dont agree with us. Why
is this? Why must we hate eachother? Well I have reached one conclusion
that I believe can be the answer to this question. Plain put its Penis Envy.
We hate our brothers because its a constant race on who can build up the
"bigger" image of the size of their penis. We try to think of creative ways
to say.."hey.. mine is bigger than yours", and when we feel as though the
other person is winning the battle we try to find some excuse to label them
as "socially un-wanted". I believe that we must just sit down, get it out
of our systems, and face the fact that.. yes some will be bigger, yet some
will be smaller. So once we can face the truths then we will be able to
tear down the barriers we have set against our friends and sing kum-bai-yah
around the campfire.
article by -- clark
(Hmm Mine is bigger than yours)

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
20 [ me f0ur!@ - by big hurt ]

i just read some no sense piece of shit that was quite well written for dto
by the common man. i just read a piece of dog shit. and it was written by
mogel. the little article was entitled 'me three'.

but amazing as it is, mogel did bring up many good points. man, i would let
mogel be my pschylogist any day. if he can analyze his own situations, then
why cant he do my own. well i do analyze my own situations, along with that
i also study and analyze people. i see the things they do and say. i also
really watch the naked girls, but i'll talk more about that some other time.

see mogel talked about a bunch of pointless bull shit, which i think was the
point he was trying to get across to use the readers of the zine scene. what
is the zine scene? is it just a time for people to fuck around and write
things that come to there mind. thats what i think it is. actually many of
the people that are writings for zines, could become supreme writers for a
newspaper, magazine, or be an author of many many books.

that even means me. yes, i could be that great and whatever i want to be.
you wanna stinking know why. because i have motivation and the desire to
better myself. this is what many people lack in the world. instead they
waste way not doing anything, except wasting away.

do you get my point. well you better, because me and many other people are
going to pass you by, while you will be sitting there on the ground crying
in the pile of dust that sits upon your little scrony head. but if you
realize that you can do anything, maybe, just maybe someday you will be
right at the back of the heels still getting your face stomped in, but not
so bad.

see there are many people like me and mogel. see mogel is a big talker and
i think probably can back most of the things he does up.

see it takes alot of talent and motivation to hold the shift key down and
make it turn out big caps. congradulations on that effort. but i believe
whoever made the keyboards, put the caps lock there for a purpose. you ever
think that it would be alot easier on you and not take up so much time
typing the shit out. to tell you the truth, caps are for pussies.

yes, i said pussies.

you are just one big smelly pootnany.

yes, i said pootnany, which means pussy in spanish.

yes, i'm bilingual. i dont know much in spanish, but i know a few other
words in other languages.

so you better start recongizing me and learn to fear me.

and yes, i can spell fear the proper way. not the way people think is elite.
do you find this fucking spelling 'phear' of fear in the god damn dictionary.

if you dont believe me, go look it up.

well i'm waiting.

see i told you that you wouldnt find that spelling of fear in that off red
piece of poop.

see and i'm big hurt. bringing a bunch of pain to your eyes and brains. and
i write for a text file zine called yellow journal. corny name you say. well
i though of it and i dont give a crap, cause it is different, like me. and
if you got a problem with all of my shit and dont like me, think i smell, or
think i look ugly, then move over, cause this horny teenager with a 8 inch
cock is here to stay. so watch the fuck out, or i'll dick slap you, with
some cock'n'balls.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
21 [ silence - by big hurt ]

the wind just stopped blowing out the bedroom window of a zine writer.

frannie was in his bed clinging onto the bed sheets as his scrony body
shivered to create some heat. but it seemed that he was getting colder and
colder.

the night was silent and now nothing could be heard in his huge house or
outside of his bedroom. he was getting scared, because even though he hated
beginning cold and it blowing outside, he wished there was some noise to
sooth his ears, so it would be easier to get to sleep.

he flung the covers off from his body and onto the floor. he got up and
decide that he should take a piss. but he was having second thoughts if he
should or not, since pissing in his bed would keep him warm for the rest of
the night as he felt the wet, but warm urine soak into his matress.

he decided not to and continued onto the bathroom, where he flip the light
switch.

bewm!@

"fuck," murmered frannie as the light bulb blew out. "i hate when this
shit happens. i swear that i'm gonna kill the fucker that makes these
lights and send them out to the stores and rips us good working people
off."

his parents where on vacation and he had the house to himself and decided
that he could go use his parents bathroom. he dragged his lumpy body into
the other bathroom.

bewm!@

"fuck," murmered frannie as he stubbed his big toe into the wall. "i hate
when this shit happens. where is the light switch?"

frannie moved his hand vigoursly on the wall looking for the light switch.
he found it and gave it juice.

"lights," yelled frannie. "i've got lights."

with the pain starting to wear off he stumbled over to the toilet. he pulled
out his cock'n'balls and let it rip. the yellow stream of urine filled and
mixed with water already in the toilet. the smell was refreshing to frannie
and woke him up even more (which might not be a good thing, since it is
like already 3am and he has only gotten 2 hours of sleep).

he returned to his room and got back into his bed. he let out a couple juicy
farts (hey, now one is around).

as he started to relax and get comfortable, he heard some noises from the
kitchen. they sounded if someone was getting into his big smelly fucking
american cheese. but frannie was frozen in his bed. he couldnt move a single
bit.

the noise continued on and on. finally the noise was getting closer and
closer to his room. now frannie was scared even more.

frannie decided he had to do something. so he started to slowly get up out of
his bed, be aware that something was in his house. maybe a burglar or even
worse an illegal allien that came across the boarder.

the noises and sounds kept going on and on, until he heard a loud thunk. he
was startled and almost feel over on his bed. but he maintained hisself and
kept on walking, taking each step with much awareness.

he finally got to the hall way and could hear noises from the now closed
bedroom door of his parents room. this was quite strange.

"maybe someone is stealing shiznit from the parents room," though frannie.

he turned on the hall light and saw a crumb of his big smelly fucking
american cheese on the plate that he left the 20 pound log of cheese on in
the first place. now frannie was pissed off. the steam was rising from his
ears.

he went to the bedroom door and it had a piece of note paper attached to it.

it said in a very scribbly hand writing: "DON'T DISTRUBE US OR YOU SHALL BE
IN SERIOUS TROUBLE!"

he thought and got even more scared. he could hear things falling to the
floor and squishing noises from the room. he was wondering what was going
on in there.

he decided it was time to find out and let the door open just a little. he
tried getting a look, but he had to open even more. he finally saw on the
bed in the dim light was his mom and dad fucking. about 2 pounds of the
cheese was on the bed next to them.

frannie was scared by the sight and decided this night wouldve been better
silent. he laid in his bed, trying to get over the awful visions of his
parents doing the wild thing.

to be continued ...

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
22 [ hacking - by big hurt ]

ever since hackers have started popping up, they have been to be people that
are harmful and can cause damage on computer systems. yes, they could
destroy a system and the hit of the enter key, if they are good enough. but
this is not true for most hackers. and when hackers get caught, the charges
seem to be way out of hand. when the media finds out about a hacker, they
blow things even more out hand. they give hackers a bad rap.

here is a article that i cut out of the local paper (The Arizona Republic).

-- --- -]

1st U.S. online wiretap find snoopy hacker

Knight-Ridder Newspapers

WASHINGTON - He called himself Griton, Spanish for screamer, and reputedly
used stolen Harvard University passwords to sneak into U.S. military
computers from his home in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

He hacked his way into NASA's jet-propulsion lab, poked around the Los Alamos
National Laboratory, and tried, but failed to invade the Army Research lab's
computer system.

On Friday, federal officals announced an arrest warrant for Julio Cesar
Ardita, 22, who was described as part cybersnoop, part cyberspook, unmasked
in an international crime hunt carried out with the first-ever computer
wiretap order.

"This is a case of cybersleuthing, a glimpse of what computer crime fighting
will look like in the coming years," U.S. Attorney Donald Stern sad. "We
have made enormous strides in developing the investigative tools to track
down individuals who misuse vital computer networks."

The felony charges are fraudulent possession of unauthorized computer
passwords, destructive activity in connection with computers and illegal
interception of electronic communications.

Although Ardita hacked his way into "important and sensitive information
in government research files on satellites, radiations and energy-related
engineering," a Justice Department released said, Ardita is "not accused
of obtaining classified information related to national security."

And Ardita many never face trial. Although the United States has extradition
treaty with Argentina, the crimes for which he is being sought are not
extraditable, Justice Department spokesman John Russell.

Attorney General Janet Reno said the unusual use of a wiretap, in which
law-enforcement officers electronically sifted through billions of bytes to
hunt down and identify an unauthorized hacker, "is an example of how the
Fourth Amendment and a court order can be used to protect rights while
adapting to modern technology."

The tap was attached to the Harvard University Faculty of Arts and Science
computers in the last two months of 1995, according to Justice Department
officals.

It was issued by a federal judge in Boston and involved a balancing act
between federal interests in tracking down the hacker and the need to ensure
other people's privacy on the Internet, Stern said.

-- --- -]

woa!@ i thought that article was the biggest piece of shit. they blew things
out of hand. made the gov't look like they did something big. it aint that
hard to do a tap or monitor a computer system.

but if they think this will stop hackers, then the gov't is 100 percent
wrong. this will only make them mad and more eager to try to get past the
newer techology.

if you have any articles or information of hackers beginnning caught by law
enforcers, please send them to me via email at lowen@goodnet.com.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
23 [ disney - by balls wilson ]

You ever wonder why the hell you always want to beat off when you watch disney
shows.. me netheir, but it's true disney has somehow got a pervert and or fag
in their animation and sound effects departments. Yes it bogles my mind too..
what the hell is disney doing putting such messages subliminally in their
movies.

i.e.

Alladin --
1. On the balcony scene when you are watching Jasmine and Alladin (it scares
me how i know there names) talking and shit like that.. turn the volume
all the way up and listen real close if you did it correctly you should
here Alladin say "Take off your clothes".. ehhw god thats horrifing!

The Lion King --
1. Ok now for the Lion King.. what you do is you slow it down on the part
when Simba's dad ,Mufucka or something, falls of the cliff and there is
a stampede or whatever.. now look real close at the dust of clouds..
you should see the word "SEX".. i know, i know, lame as hell but it's
there..
2. Now there is another "SEX" in here.. it is in the part where the monkey
guy summons Simba's dad and then he says that shit to Simba and like
fads away.. alright go through that part frame by frame.. and in the
clouds you should see "SEX".. jeah.. this is becoming education for me!

The little mermaid --
1. The cover of this priceless little fuckin video is cool.. you can see an
erect penis in the background where all that crap is..

welp, uhmm.. like that's all i know of but im sure there are more.. if you
find somemore like get in contact with me on any board running JiveNet and or
my board "Vomitorium � 3 to 7 � 6o2/917/o516 (hhe..yeah a plug fer my board)
it's all art.. no warez.." --bw!

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
24 [ yellow journal logo - by clark ]

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: y e l l 0 w j o u r n a l ,sS$$ls,
|__ _ _ _ _ _ ___ .sS$" `$$Ss.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
25 [ the hackers manifesto - by the mentor ]

well, since i've been into finding more information about hacking and hackers
and what not, i've come across this. which was also used in the movie,
"hackers".

it is the part where they are about to catch the kids in that mall or
whatever and they are in the car and one officer is reading a piece of
paper, that parts come from this. pretty cool, eh?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
\/\The Hacker's Manifesto/\/

+++The Mentor+++
Written on January 8, 1986
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager
Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

Damn kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain,
ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what
made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of
the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

Damn underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain
for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms.
Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is
cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I
screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me...
Or feels threatened by me...
Or thinks I'm a smart ass...
Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through
the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is
sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is
found.
"This is it... this is where I belong..."
I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them,
may never hear from them again... I know you all...

Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at
school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip
through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or
ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us will-
ing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the
beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying
for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and
you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek
after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color,
without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals.
You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us
and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is
that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like.
My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me
for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual,
but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

+++The Mentor+++
Racketeers

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
26 [ jive net - by big hurt ]

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$��'^ ^'��$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$��'^ ^'��$$$ $$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$� '�$$ $$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$a, ,$$, $$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$aa,, �$$� .a$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
balls wilson[APATHY/DIRT]

yes, jive net is the offical net for yellow journal magazine.

you've heard of y0lk net. well yj has jive net. different name, same quality
network. if you like the great conversations on y0lk net, then you've got
to atleast try jive net. just once and you'll be hooked. it has some of
latest conversations on the zine scene and the art scene. plus a little extra
suprise in the box. but you'll have to get yourself hooked up to find out why
this net is so great.

and on one last note. it has me the editor and head of yellow journal along
with all of the local guys that i've gotten to write for this magazine. so
feel out the application in the file: jive_app.zip that comes with the zip
that you got this zine in.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
27 [ stephen king - by big hurt ]

my favorite writer is stephen king. he such an amazing writer. he puts out
pieces of art. he has dozens of books and has hundreds of writings. though
he is getting older and older every day, he is still making money and having
fun doing it.

recently, he released a new serial series. it is called "the green mile".
book one is released, which is entitled, "the two dead girls". and the other
one was released march 25th, which i was just made aware of today, when i
visisted the the green mile web page (http://www.greenmile.com). it is called
"mouse on the mile".

i will probably end up buying it in the next day or two. but since i was just
on the internet, seeing what else i could dig up about stephen king and his
writings. even his personal life. i found out that there was a hypertext book
written by the man himself.

so i will be bringing each chapter to you each month starting this month. it
is kind of like the new series. but this one i'm pretty sure that you wont
find on the bookshelves of a library or a bookstore. but, if you do happen to
find the book or a printed and published version of this somewhere, please
let me know.

the title of this book written by stephen king is, "

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
28 [ umney's last case - by stephen king ]

UMNEY'S LAST CASE

by Stephen King

The rains are over. The hills are still green and in the valley
across the Hollywood hills you can see snow on the high mountains.
The fur stores are advertising their annual sales. The call houses
that specialize in sixteen-year-old virgins are doing a land-office
business. And in Beverly Hills the jacaranda trees are beginning to
bloom.

Raymond Chandler, The Little Sister

I. The News from Peoria.

It was one of those spring mornings so L.A.-perfect you keep expecting
to see that little trademark symbol--(R)--stamped on it somewhere. The
exhaust of the vehicles passing on Sunset smelled faintly of oleander,
the oleander was lightly perfumed with exhaust, and the sky overhead
was as clear as a hardshell Baptist's conscience. Peoria Smith, the
blind paperboy, was standing in his accustomed place on the corner of
Sunset and Laurel, and if that didn't mean God was in His heaven and
all was jake with the world, I didn't know what did.

Yet since I'd swung my feet out of bed that morning at the
unaccustomed hour of 7:30 a.m., things had felt a little off-kilter,
somehow; a tad woozy around the edges. It was only as I was shaving
--or at least showing those pesky bristles the razor in an effort to
scare them into submission--that I realized part of the reason why.
Although I'd been up reading until at least two, I hadn't heard the
Demmicks roll in, squiffed to the earlobes and trading those snappy
one-liners that apparently form the basis of their marriage.

Nor had I heard Buster, and that was maybe even odder. Buster, the
Demmicks' Welsh Corgi, has a high-pitched bark that goes through your
head like slivers of glass, and he uses it as much as he can. Also,
he's the jealous type. He lets loose with one of his shrill barking
squalls every time George and Gloria clinch, and when they aren't
zinging each other like a couple of vaudeville comedians, George and
Gloria usually are clinching. I've gone to sleep on more than one
occasion listening to them giggle while that mutt prances around their
feet going yarkyarkyark and wondering how difficult it would be to
strangle a muscular, medium-sized dog with a length of piano-wire.
Last night, however, the Demmicks' apartment had been as quiet as the
grave. It was passing strange, but a long way from earth-shattering;
the Demmicks weren't exactly your perfect life-on-a-timetable couple
at the best of times.

Peoria Smith was all right, though--chipper as a chipmunk, just as
always, and he'd recognized me by my walk even though it was at least
an hour before my usual time. He was wearing a baggy CalTech
sweatshirt that came down to his thighs and a pair of corduroy
knickers that showed off his scabby knees. His hated white cane leaned
casually against the side of the card-table he did business on.

``Say, Mr. Umney! Howza kid?''

Peoria's dark glasses glinted in the morning sunlight, and as he
turned toward the sound of my step with my copy of the L.A. Times held
up in front of him, I had a momentary unsettling thought: it was as if
someone had drilled two big black holes into his face. I shivered the
thought off my back, thinking that maybe the time had come to cut out
the before-bedtime shot of rye. Either that or double the dose.

Hitler was on the front of the Times, as he so often was these days.
This time it was something about Austria. I thought, and not for the
first time, how at home that pale face and limp forelock would have
looked on a post-office bulletin board.

``The kid is just about okay, Peoria,'' I said. ``In fact, the kid is
as fine as fresh paint on an outhouse wall.''

I dropped a dime into the Corona box resting atop Peoria's stack of
newspapers. The Times is a three-center, and over-priced at that, but
I've been dropping that same chip into Peoria's change-box since time
out of mind. He's a good kid, and making good grades in school--I took
it on myself to check that last year, after he'd helped me out on the
Weld case. If Peoria hadn't shown up on Harris Brunner's houseboat
when he did, I'd still be trying to swim with my feet cemented into a
kerosene drum, somewhere off Malibu. To say I owe him a lot is an
understatement.

In the course of that particular investigation (Peoria Smith, not
Harris Brunner and Mavis Weld), I even found out the kid's real name,
although wild horses wouldn't have dragged it out of me. Peoria's
father took a permanent coffee-break out a ninth-floor office window
on Black Friday, his mother's the only white frail working in that
goofy Chinese laundry down on La Punta, and the kid's blind. With all
that, does the world need to know they hung Francis on him when he was
too young to fight back? The defense rests.

If anything really juicy happened the night before, you almost always
find it on the front page of the Times, left side, just below the
fold. I turned the newspaper over and saw that a bandleader of the
Cuban persuasion had suffered a heart attack while dancing with his
female vocalist at The Carousel in Burbank. He died an hour later at
L.A. General. I had some sympathy for the maestro's widow, but none
for the man himself. My opinion is that people who go dancing in
Burbank deserve what they get.

I opened to the sports section to see how Brooklyn had done in their
doubleheader with the Cards the day before. ``How about you, Peoria?
Everyone holding their own in your castle? Moats and battlements all
in good repair?''

``I'll say, Mr. Umney! Oh, boy!''

Something in his voice caught my attention, and I lowered the paper to
take a closer look at him. When I did, I saw what a gilt-edged shamus
like me should have seen right away: the kid was all but busting with
happiness.

``You look like somebody just gave you six tickets to the first game
of the World Series,'' I said. ``What's the buzz, Peoria?''

``My mom hit the lottery down in Tijuana!'' he said. ``Forty thousand
bucks! We're rich, brother! Rich!''

I gave him a grin he couldn't see and ruffled his hair. It popped his
cowlick up, but what the hell. ``Whoa, hold the phone. How old are
you, Peoria?''

``Twelve in May. You know that, Mr. Umney, you gave me a polo-shirt.
But I don't see what that has to do with--''

``Twelve's old enough to know that sometimes people get what they want
to happen mixed up with what actually does happen. That's all I
meant.''

``If you're talkin about daydreams, you're right--I do know all about
em,'' Peoria said, running his hands over the back of his head in an
effort to make his cowlick lie down again, ``but this ain't no
daydream, Mr. Umney. It's real! My Uncle Fred went down and picked up
the cash yest'y afternoon. He brought it back in the saddlebag of his
Vinnie! I smelled it! Hell, I rolled in it! It was spread all over my
mom's bed! Richest feeling I ever had, let me tell you--
forty-froggin-thousand smackers!''

``Twelve may be old enough to know the difference between daydreams
and what's real, but it's not old enough for that kind of talk,'' I
said. It sounded good--I'm sure the Legion of Decency would have
approved two thousand per cent--but my mouth was running on automatic
pilot, and I barely heard what was coming out of it. I was too busy
trying to get my brain wrapped around what he'd just told me. Of one
thing I was absolutely positive: he'd made a mistake. He must have
made a mistake, because if it was true, then Peoria wouldn't be
standing here anymore when I came by on my way to my office in the
Fulwider Building. And that just couldn't be.

I found my mind returning to the Demmicks, who for the first time in
recorded history hadn't played any of their big-band records at full
volume before retiring, and to Buster, who for the first time in
recorded history hadn't greeted the sound of George's latchkey turning
in the lock with a fusillade of barks. The thought that something was
off-kilter returned, and it was stronger this time.

Meanwhile, Peoria was looking at me with an expression I'd never
expected to see on his honest, open face: sulky irritation mixed with
exasperated humor. It was the way a kid looks at a windbag uncle who's
told all his stories, even the boring ones, three or four times.

``Ain't you picking up on this newsflash, Mr. Umney? We're rich! My
mom ain't going to have to press shirts for that damned old Lee Ho
anymore, and I ain't going to have to sell papers on the corner
anymore, shiverin when it rains in the winter and havin to suck up to
those nutty old bags who work down at Bilder's. I can quit actin like
I died and went to heaven every time some blowhard leaves me a nickel
tip.''

I started a little at that, but what the hell--I wasn't a nickel man.
I left Peoria seven cents, day in and day out. Unless I was too broke
to afford it, of course, but in my business an occasional stony
stretch comes with the territory.

``Maybe we ought to go up to Blondie's and have a cup of java,'' I
said. ``Talk this thing over.''

``Can't. It's closed.''

``Blondie's? The hell you say!''

But Peoria couldn't be bothered with such mundane stuff as the coffee
shop up the street. ``You ain't heard the best, Mr. Umney! My Uncle
Fred knows a doctor up in Frisco--a specialist--who thinks he can do
something about my eyes.'' He turned his face up to mine. Below the
cheaters and his too-thin nose, his lips were trembling. ``He says it
might not be the optic nerves after all, and if it's not, there's an
operation . . . I don't understand all the technical stuff, but I
could see again, Mr. Umney!'' He reached out for me blindly . . .
well, of course he did. How else could he reach out? ``I could see
again!''

He clutched at me, and I gripped his hands and squeezed them briefly
before pushing them gently away. There was ink on his fingers, and I'd
been feeling so good when I got up that I'd put on my new chalk
worsted. Hot for summer, of course, but the whole city is air-
conditioned these days, and besides, I was feeling naturally cool. I
didn't feel so cool now. Peoria was looking up at me, his thin and
somehow perfect newsboy's face troubled. A little breeze--scented with
oleander and exhaust--ruffled his cowlick, and I realized that I could
see it because he wasn't wearing his tweed cap. He looked somehow
naked without it, and why not? Every newsboy should wear a tweed cap,
just like every shoeshine boy should wear a beanie cocked way back on
his head.

``What's the matter, Mr. Umney? I thought you'd be happy. Jeepers, I
didn't have to come out here to this lousy corner today, you know, but
I did--I even got here early, because I kinda had an idea you'd get
here early. I thought you'd be happy, my mom hittin the lottery and me
gettin a chance at an operation, but you ain't.'' Now his voice
trembled with resentment. ``You ain't!''

``Yes I am,'' I said, and I wanted to be happy--part of me did,
anyway--but the bitch of it was that he was mostly right. Because it
meant things would change, you see, and things weren't supposed to
change. Peoria Smith was supposed to be right here, year in and year
out, with that perfect cap of his tilted back on hot days and pulled
down low on rainy ones, so that the raindrops dripped off the bill. He
was always supposed to be smiling, was never supposed to say ``hell''
or ``frogging,'' and most of all, he was supposed to be blind.

``You ain't!'' he said, and then, shockingly, he pushed his card-
table over. It fell into the street, papers flapping everywhere. His
white cane rolled into the gutter. Peoria heard it go and bent down to
get it. I could see tears coming out from beneath his dark glasses and
go rolling down his pale, thin cheeks. He started groping for the
cane, but it had fallen near me and he was going the wrong way. I felt
a sudden strong urge to haul off and kick him in his blind newsboy's
ass.

Instead, I bent over, got his stick, and tapped him lightly on the hip
with it.

Peoria turned, quick as a snake, and snatched it. Out of the corner of
my eye I could see pictures of Hitler and the recently deceased Cuban
bandleader flapping all over Sunset Boulevard--a bus bound for Van
Ness snored through a little drift of them, leaving a bitter tang of
diesel fumes behind. I hated the way those newspapers looked,
fluttering here and there. They looked messy. Worse, they looked
wrong. Utterly and completely wrong. I fought another urge, as strong
as the first one, to grab Peoria and shake him. To tell him he was
going to spend the morning picking up those newspapers, and I wasn't
going to let him go home until he'd gotten every last one.

It occurred to me that less than ten minutes ago, I'd been thinking
that this was the perfect L.A. morning--so perfect it deserved a
trademark symbol. And it had been, dammit. So where had things gone
wrong? And how had it happened so fast?

No answers came, only an irrational but powerful voice from inside,
telling me that the kid's mother couldn't have won the lottery, that
the kid couldn't stop selling newspapers, and that, most of all, the
kid couldn't see. Peoria Smith was supposed to be blind for the rest
of his life.

Well, it's got to be something experimental, I thought. Even if the
doctor up in Frisco isn't a quack, and he probably is, the operation's
bound to fail.

And, bizarre as it sounds, the thought calmed me down.

``Listen,'' I said, ``we got off on the wrong foot this morning,
that's all. Let me make it up to you. We'll go down to Blondie's and
I'll buy you breakfast. What do you say, Peoria? You can dig into a
plate of bacon and eggs and tell me all ab--''

``Fuck you!'' he shouted, shocking me all the way down to my shoes.
``Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you cheap gumshoe! You think
blind people can't tell when people like you are lying through their
teeth? Fuck you! And keep your hands off me from now on! I think
you're a faggot!''

That did it--no one calls me a faggot and gets away with it, not even
a blind newsboy. I forgot all about how Peoria had saved my life
during that Mavis Weld business; I reached for his cane, meaning to
take it away from him and whack him across the keister with it a few
times. Teach him some manners.

Before I could get it, though, he hauled off and slammed the cane's
tip into my lower belly--and I do mean lower. I doubled up in agony,
but even while I was trying to keep from howling with pain, I was
counting my blessings; two inches lower still and I could have quit
peeping for a living and gotten a job singing soprano in the Palace of
the Doges.

I made a quick, reflexive grab for him anyway, and he brought the cane
down on the back of my neck. Hard. It didn't break, but I heard it
crack. I figured I could finish the job when I caught him and ran it
into his right ear. I'd show him who was a faggot.

He backed away from me as if he'd caught my brainwave, and threw the
cane into the street.

``Peoria,'' I managed. Maybe it still wasn't too late to catch sanity
by the shirttail. ``Peoria, what the hell's wrong with--''

``And don't call me that!'' he screamed. ``My name's Francis! Frank!
You're the one who started calling me Peoria! You started it and now
everyone calls me that and I hate it!''

My watering eyes doubled him as he turned and fled across the street,
heedless of traffic (of which there was currently none, luckily for
him), hands held out in front of him. I thought he would trip over the
far curb--was looking forward to it, in fact--but I guess blind people
must keep a pretty good set of topographical survey maps in their
heads. He jumped onto the sidewalk as nimbly as a goat, then turned
his dark glasses back in my direction. There was an expression of
crazed triumph on his tear-streaked face, and the dark lenses looked
more like holes than ever. Big ones, as if someone had hit him with
two large-caliber shotgun rounds.

``Blondie's is gone, I toldja!'' he screamed. ``My mom says he upped
and ran away with that redhead floozy he hired last month! You should
be so lucky, you ugly prick!''

He turned and went running up Sunset in that strange way of his, with
his splayed fingers held out in front of him. People stood in little
clusters on both sides of the street, looking at him, looking at the
papers fluttering in the street, looking at me.

Mostly looking at me, it seemed.

This time Peoria--well, okay, Francis--made it as far as Derringer's
Bar before turning to deliver one final salvo.

``Fuck you, Mr. Umney!'' he screamed, and ran on.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
29 [ grades - by big hurt ]

grades? well they are a system that judges how good of a job you are doing in
school doing your work. you could be sick from school for 9 to 13 days and
still get an 'a'. you could maybe miss one day at the most and have a 'c' or
even as low as a 'f' in a class.

well, for me i've been there every day for every class the past semister,
except for one class which i just recently missed. english. i had to go home
and get my baseball uniform, which i needed for the game that day. or else
my coach might have gotten extremely anger and red faced while yelling his
mouth off at me.

but today (friday), i got my report card. since i'm in my baseball coaches
second hour class. the hour that we usually get our report cards, he handed
it to me, without really looking me in the eye.

i looked down and i got an 'a', an 'a', and the rest where happened to be
'c' grades. i excepted worse in computer programming. since i havent done
much work, just talk since we have a sub, for our teacher that just had a
baby, a few days after my birthday. anyways, the sub never says anything to
us. and i ended up getting a 'c', which isn't bad for the amount of work
that i did. but to tell you the truth he should have at least mentioned that
we need to do our work or get on our cases when we werent doing any work.
but instead, being smart as he is, he sits in the back briefly looking
around, while beating his dick back and forth in his slacks. then at the
end of the hour, he looks up and decides to give us a grade from 0 to 3,
depending on how much work he saw us doing.

but other than that, i worked hard to keep 3 classes grades up so that i
didnt get yellow or red carded (no pass, no play rule for sports). and i
also kept the grades up and never let them slip. i also brought up my
history grade from a 'c' to an 'a'. i also learned things from history.
right now we are doing a section on adoff hilter and dictators that ruled
after world war 1.

so remember that your grades are very important. it could mean getting into
a highly rated college or just that old community college down the road. so
always try your best in school and try to become active in class, instead of
being brain dead, since our generation will pave the road for many years to
come.

--- # ---- ! ------------------------------------------------------------- @ -
30 [ toodle-lu - by big hurt ]

okay. well this issue actually turned out better than i thought. i got more
writers to write for the magazine. i believe that i improved in my writing
skills during most of the days that i worked on this magazine. i got a
someone to do an actual ascii. we got a whq and also we have an offical net
for the magazine, jive net.

had a special reading which will keep being put in the magazine. which was
the stephen king electronic book, which will be in the magazine for another
six installments, which i hope you keep coming back to find out what happens
each and every chapter.

but i'm actually sad and dont have many words left. i'm sad that this issue
is actually coming to a rapid end, since i didn't really spend that much
time on it. maybe 2 and 1/2 weeks at the max. but i hope to get cracking
with more writings. but also i was disappointed that i didnt have any stories
really, except for one that i did, that at least was a try at something. all
i know is that i hope you didnt stop reading because you didnt like something
or thought i piece of writing was lame or stupid. if you did, then you may
not be reading this right now. but if you are reading this and read most of
the magazine, i'm glad for you. because you may have learned something.

also in next issue look for information on the unabomber suspect being held
for possession of a bomb. he went on trial just last thursday for having that
bomb at his wood cabin far away from the city life. also get ready for
another stephen king installment.

in closing i will leave you with this writing from the first paragraph of
unabombers manifesto that was published by the washington post and also
spread on the internet.

--- -- -]

"industrial society and its future

introduction

1. the industrial revolution and its consequences have a been a diaster for
the human race. they have greatly increased the life-expectancy of those of
us who live in 'advanced' countries, but they have destabilized society,
have made life unfulfilling, have subjected human beings to indignities,
have led to widespread psychological suffering (in the third world to
physical suffering as well) and have inflicted severe damage on the natural
world. the continued development of technology will worsen the situation.
it will certainly subject human being to greater indignities and inflict
greater damage on the natural world, it will probably lead to greater
social disruption and psychological suffering, and it may lead to increased
physical suffering even in 'advanced' countries."

-- unabomber

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