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+ doomed to obscurity + issue four + november 13th, 1995 +
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+ "spreading happiness & positivity through understood cynicism." - sratte +
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ my doggy
+ submitted by - neko
i have a doggy.
he has hairy buttocks.
i like to scratch them.
my doggy likes that.
he licks me.
it makes me feel good.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ you're a damned weirdo
+ written by - mogel
we're doomed! do the hokey-pokey, baby!
the issues of dto are still pumpin' away here, kids. just a
reminder, we're _always_ looking for innovative writers with message-encoded
stuff. we can never get enough writing.
the feedback we've been getting on last issue has been pretty
interesting. a buncha people thought it was "by far" the best issue ever
released. others thought it was "okay," but dealt _way_ too much on the
topic of "angst." heh. forgetting that this theme was somewhat intentional
from my crafty mind, an interesting thing to note is that the writers of dto
ages do range from the ballpark of sixteen to late twenties. basically,
youth. the bullshit and self-proclaimed stupid culture that is becoming
all-too common is something that dto is here to deal with.
basically, we're the most real thing you'll ever read.
at any rate, for the most part, you'll certainly find a difference in
this months issue, full of all kinds of wacky random stuff you could only
expect from us. the always presumptuous james hetfield bashes 'zines and we
pick up introductory writings from teletype, base, and edicius. we also get
treated to a one-shot from uXu's the gnn. wowee!@ i'd say that in general,
this issue has turned out a tad more serious that i would have expected.
you know, i'm pretty glad frannie decided to let me run the dto-show
for this issue and last with his recent lack of time. it reminded me a lot
of those gl0ry days back when i was editing my former lame 'zine, h0e.
everything continues to change for me. in a lot of ways, i'm pulled myself
out of a lot of the "c0mputer und3rgr0und" bullshit that runs rampant. as
if you couldn't figure it out, we're about making people think. pushing
ideas, thoughts, and wacky shit.
let's take a confusing stroll down memory lane, shall we?
the modem mafia are masters of something so primal, it's almost as
funny as you are. hey cocksucker why aren't you getting back to me about
my fucking hoe app? - godd. romeo is paging you from teleconference: you
have big tits. they all phear me. womba-womba. i can't believe that out
of millions of sperm, i was the quickest. get hip to my anarchy! my
hypothesis was that given ten days, five monkeys could start an e-mag and
publish at least one issue. congratulations! you've hacked your way out of
a paper bag! yuor mumz so stupid she seyd yuor dum to me but im not dum im
smart. ten whole pez fans can't be wrong! let's hack it! look at the
caveman! he's a real rebel! moral: lay off the 'shrooms, boy.
are you hip to checkin' out other e'zines? you'll find zany-fun on
(of all things) the www. yessir, point that web browser to our pal
mercuri's baby, "zinew0rld." http://www.pla-net.net/~jwapienn/zineworld/
here you'll find a growing number of rad links to 'zine web pages all over
the damn place.
oh. we've picked up another permanent ftp site. woo-hoo!@ get the
latest and old dto files from:
prism.net /pub/dto
blandest.com /pub/dto
as time moves on, dto will be in it's full swing of expansion.
television appearances, t-shirts, more writers, more projects; the whole
nine yards.
here's what we want from you;
spread the disease. dto consumes your minds. bad publicity is good
publicity. tell _everyone_ you know about dto. e-mail _all_ your friends
the issues. upload dto to _every_ bbs and _every_ ftp site you know of.
we're out to be the best, and you'll only be joining the winning side.
dto _is_ forever. let's make sure of it.
- mogel, the great e'zine hype-king [dto@prism.net]
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
____
___| |_ _
___| | _______
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+---------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------+
| | | | | |
doomed to obscurity four | | | | | | and all contents therein ..
| | | | | |
+---------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------+
|_____| |_____|
|___ _
1 - my doggy
by - neko
2 - you're a damned weirdo
by - mogel
3 - doomed to obscurity four and all contents therein ..
by - mogel
4 - the real world
by - eerie
5 - what do you think think of dto?
by - mogel
6 - technology knows no shame, the world i see has gone insane
by - teletype
7 - i was the second gunman in the kennedy assassination, sexy mama!
by - edicius
8 - pick your nose no matter who walks by you!
by - base
9 - sweet irony
by - mogel
10 - poison
by - the gnn
11 - broken
by - shadow tao
12 - zines suck
by - james hetfield
13 - operation streetpimp
by - morpheus
14 - where's that dignity i ordered?
by - mogel
15 - dew - condiments; chapter 1/0
by - murmur
16 - urination
by - y-windoze
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ the real world
+ submitted by - eerie
woke up at 3 pm, again. said hello to the camera. hi, mtv
alternakids. it's thursday and the rest of the appartment is empty. turned
on my stereo and listened to some cool trip-hop stuff. still asleep with a
bonus headache. slept for like thirteen hours.
"you sure you wanna be with me, i've nothing to give."
peed. said hello to the camera. get that, mtv alternakids. put
on some clothes; black t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of white socks.
then moved to the kitchen, opened the fridge. nothing. yesterday i had
some money to buy some milk and made myself pancakes from a recipe my mom
gave me.
"i drink till i'm drunk & i smoke till i'm senseless."
made some peach juice from peach juice powder and water. said
hello to the camera. you mtv alternakids got your lunch paid by your mom
& dad. better feel lucky. alright, let's not fast today. looked for
something edible. what do i find? onion soup mix. tried to prepare some,
tasted really, really bad. spitted a mouthful in the garbage bag.
"until then, you have to live with yourself."
threw the rest of the soup in the sink. said hello to the camera.
fuck you, mtv alternakids. if i could find like a dollar and a few cents
i could at least walk to a convenience store and buy some kraft dinner or
a can of beans. blah. whatever. put on my coat (it's winter up here)
and went to the college that's near here so i could sell pot to some guys
i know and get a few bucks, at last.
"i refuse to understand." -- tricky
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ what do you think of dto?
+ the opinions of some "other" 'zine guys
+ compiled by - mogel
"dto is the most well written 'zine since
'common sense'." - edicius [jonas]
"looks good, man." - lobo [gwd]
"my elitist attitude: 'its so rad, _i_ wrote
for it.' my distinguished attitude: 'elogant,
yet fascinating.'" - disorder [fuck]
"you guys are a buncha whiners." - guido sanchez [blah/dead]
"all 'zines are lame." - y-windoze [pud/dead]
"neat, rad." - swamp ratte' [cdc]
"det kan inte bli battre an sa har!"
(translated: "it can't get any better than
this!") - the gnn [uxu]
"..." (he refused to reply) - jason farnon [ibft/dead]
"it's interesting." - t3 [rdnf]
"i phear mogel and love bubbles." - rattle [that guy]
"dto is a stable part of the zine scene. it's
something to keep the zine scene going and
keep it credible." - juke [chemchoc]
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dto spotlight on - teletype
teletype; writer, master of prism.net - one fateful night in the mid '70s
will live forever in infamy. on this night - cold and drab like a
bleak december on the tundra - two desolate and dejected human beings
ingested a more than respectable quantity of distilled spirits.
intoxication led to copulation, and copulation, to conception. lo!
a zygote was created, and it was called teletype. the powers that be
saw teletype and decided it was good. they foresaw this teletype's
upbringing until the day their plans went wildly awry. the teletype
surpassed their power. the teletype took up residence in a computer,
and from their wrought havoc and dementia on all. the teletype was
revered by the powers that were as the second coming of their great
and illustrious creator. the teletype came to rule over all. and
such is the history of the world to date, or whatever portion of the
history that doth matter.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ technology knows no shame, the world i see has gone insane
+ submitted by - teletype
take a moment to stop and think. examine closely the state of things
today. in the scant centuries since the country we call america, "land of
the free, home of the brave" came into existence, so much change has taken
place that an outsider would be led to wonder if this is indeed the same
planet.
our 'forefathers' started a new form of government, which rose from
the primordial ooze of hatred, unrest, and rebellion. their work was
revered as the greatest form of government extant. the public lavished
their patriotic praise upon their country, while simultaneously loathing its
very existence. the natural human tendency toward hatred cannot be quelled.
shortly thereafter, we began to harness the fury of steam. we tamed
the rampant force. we endowed our sailing vessels with fiery, brutish steam
engines, and we were able to zip to and fro, free from the whims of the
winds. we strapped these behemoths to wheels, and traversed our beloved
land at unheard of speeds.
we discovered the usefulness of electricity. along with the tracks
of the iron beast, we strung up the webs of a lighting fast new species of
spider called the telegraph. our vast world shrank. with the telegraph, we
were able to virtually instantaneously carry messages across the entire
breadth of our nation. so long, pony express, your demise has come. the
natural descendant of the electric pony express was the telephone. your
loved ones and enemies alike could be held in the palm of your hand, and
distances became extinct.
we discovered the death magic of fossil fuels. the cheetah could
outrun us. so, inferiority being verily intolerable, we created the
automobile. the birds take to the sky at whim, while we are bound to terra
firma. naturally, this was unacceptable, so we constructed airplanes, and
surpassed them.
we were on top of the world, master of all, but we needed to go
higher. the hatred still prevailed. we went to war, and made full use of
our new technologies. we created the deadliest spectacle of bloodshed ever
before seen. finally, the war abated, and it came to pass that the world
was in a quasi-peaceful state once again. we sat in our tidy homes with our
phonographs, our model-t's, our electric lights, telephones, prohibition,
and radios, and life was good. still our technology advanced, and with it
advanced the hate and jealousy. again we went to war. millions were killed
in efficient factories of death. we witnessed conflagrations of near
apocalyptic proportion when we witnessed the pure brutish fury unleashed
when we tampered with the very building blocks of our very physical being.
in this war, technology was power.
lazy as we are, mundane tasks such as arithmetic became too much of a
bother to occupy our minds with. it's better to let electrons do the
thinking for us. we built gargantuan thinking machines. and, in the
tradition of the telephone and telegraph, came the television. while the
one delivered its message at mercurian speeds, and the other carried the
two-tin-cans-and-string game to a higher plane, this newcomer promised more.
it trounced the lot of them and brought the president, mr. ed, the mets, and
walter cronkite straight into the living room of mr. and mrs. john p.
amerikaner, in living colour. the world grew smaller still.
the ever present hatred persisted, and those who opposed it were
considered to be in the wrong, and persecuted for it. the ones in power
evidently found peace and love to be an unhealthy lifestyle. without hatred
and jealousy, they would not be necessary. by and by, the peace lovers
decided that they it wasn't worth it, and they became exactly what they
deplored: societal drones.
money is the driving force behind greed. technology is money. any
technology that exists today was developed not for the sake of creating it,
but for the money it earns. the gargantuan thinking machines shrank, and
businesses computerized. the computers shrank more, and schools began to
purchase them. hobbyists took an interest. the hobby became a gold mine;
the personal computer was born. everyone wanted to get in on this hot new
trend. still new forms of communication emerged. the universities and the
government networked their computers, to facilitate freedom of information.
greedy eyes saw the money making potential in these networks.
the "information superhighway" was born. festooned in hype and
buzzwords, this nonexistent bit stream was thrust upon the public, and the
public embraced it. in here, there are no rules. the pioneers are totally
overlooked, and crammed into small corners of their net, in much the same
way as the europeans forced the native americans into reservation when they
decided they own this land. this land is your land, this land is my land.
this is no man's land.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dto spotlight on - edicius
edicius; writer - the man of all seasons. he runs, he jumps, he flops, he
flips. you can't get much better then him. between writing for various
'zines, including his own jonas e'zine, he spends much of his time
playing doom2, eating peanuts, and listening to weezer. he hopes of one
day riding cross-country in a winnebago, like they did in that mtv show.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ i was the second gunman in the kennedy assassination, sexy mama!
+ submitted by - edicius
i am lee harvey oswald. i am not a nazi, nor do i work for the
soviet government. i am dead now, don't ask me how i write this, fugoff.
this is the _real_ story behind the kennedy assassination.
+--- dto ---+
it starts with a crash. a large metallic object hurdles through the
sky at an amazing rate of speed, and lands in a small place, that we'll call
"roswell, new mexico."
mass-hysteria.
a large object, lands on earth, government denies it, only after
everyone knows about it. odd, eh? but it happened.
now, i'm not going into detail about the roswell incident, you know
about it by now, at least somethings about it.
anyway;
a few years later, in 1954, our presidential-pal eisenhower (i like
ike!), 'says' that he's going to the 'dentist', but _everyone_ knew where he
was really going. right?
no?
well, ok, so alot of people _didn't_ know where he was headed to, but
this is where he went; he went to the first ever alien-earthling summit. a
few things happened during this summit. the most important thing: the
aliens hand over a few saucers for our inspection, and we relinquish
"grazing rights", allowing aliens the freedom to periodically abduct and
experiment on humans and cattle.
kooky, eh? its true.
all the presidents knew about it, but no one was going to say
anything. until jack came into office.
jack, john kennedy. he was going to expose the whole
eisenhower-alien summit dealy-deal. bad career move, jack. the government
couldn't let this get out.
this is where i step in.
about two months before the infamous kennedy assassination, i'm
working part time at the diner down the street from the secret service in
downtown dallas. two husky fellows come in, sit down, and order a couple of
eggs, black coffee, and hash browns.
being the ever-eccentric waiter that i am, i started talking to these
two drab fellows. they mention that they worked for the government, and
that was all they were allowed to say. i was fine with that, we all have
our limits. i told them i had always wanted to join the secret service, but
was turned down.
they said they were interested in me.
i was ecstatic. i flipped. i dropped the pot of coffee on my boss,
and told him to "fuck off". i tore off the dorky blue and orange uniform i
was wearing and asked them where i should go to join up.
they said they were only kidding. no ha-ha from this happy camper.
they said they didn't really want me to join up with the secret
service, only that they had a special job dealing with guns and the
president, and that they needed a sicko like myself. they said that the
president was going to revel some information concerning some "fake" alien
summit that "supposedly" happened, and that they needed to kill him before
he instilled fear in the hearts of americans.
i thought it sounded good, it was being as close to the resident as
restraining orders allow. so i was happy.
about two months later, i was trained in the art of "scapegoating."
all i had to do, was stand in a window while a motorcade goes by, hold a
gun, spread my fingerprints, run, and kill some police officer. not too
hard, i figured.
it was the early afternoon, i see a motorcade start to approach, and
i knew my signal. i put my fingerprints all over the room. boxes, books,
the gun, windows, _everything_. i watch as the limousine driver carrying
mr. kennedy pulls a gun and shoots him in a split second. i run.
a few hours later, i was at a movie theatre. i killed some "pig"
that was following my back too closely. a little while later, i get
arrested.
i'm questioned, i tell them that i didn't do it, and before i can say
anymore, i'm whisked away by some officers. i'm walking outside, and a man,
jack ruby, is standing there, with a gun, and shoots me, completing the
whole secret service-cia-fbi cover-up. (they had me shot so i wouldn't say
anything, they never told me about _that_ part beforehand.)
here i stand today. immortalized for being a scapegoat. _everyone_
has seen oliver stone's jfk, _everyone_ knows that their is a government
cover-up behind the whole assassination deal. i'm at the center of it; and
no one knows the truth behind it, until now.
thanks, i had to clear that up.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dto spotlight on - base
base; writer - base is a generally depressed, only child in suburban
connecticut who is between high school and college, and who aspires
to go to berklee in boston for other studies. base (the artist
formerly known as basehead) has been in the "scene" in general since
1986. the basis of what he does now is generally computer music
(s3m/mod/xm/module music/formats/etc). he also composes for
orchestras, and recently did the music for a game by origin. check
out da warez!@ it's called crusader: no remorse. thats it. that's
all. finito. b-3. bingo!@
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ pick your nose no matter who walks by you!
+ submitted by - base
*unconscious*
[narrator: base awakes in a room with no furniture, no doors, no nothing.
there is nothing and nobody in the room with him, and he cannot
hear anything, nor see the source of light by which the room
is oddly illuminated]
man, this must be donald trump's safe deposit box.. how the _fuck_
did i get in here? i don't even _know_ the guy.. maybe _this_ is what that
skeleton key unlocks.. been wondering what the fuck it was for since 3rd
grade!
wait, how do i know what this is? i could be part of one of those...
experiments. ya know, where the government is testing the limits of sanity.
something cool like that. where did i come up with that idea?? i prolly
read it somewhere.. most people don't come up with ideas, they just repeat
stuff they forgot they heard. i should write a book about that, it would
probably sell well.
maybe i'm part of one of those neat modern art displays. but.. how
would anyone see me? maybe these are those fangled one-way three-foot
thick walls. heh! yeah thats it, they can see me, but i can't see them.
does that mean i'm paranoid? wouldn't it be kinda cool for people to see
you, and not be able to see them? think of all the stuff you'd end up doing
if you didn't know...you wouldn't care. it'd be freeing. think of it this
way; there are two types of people in this situation, and thus two types of
responses this could warrant. the person _knows_ they're being watched from
the outside, so they act very normal and try to beam pleasant innocuous
thoughts to all parties, foolishly thinking that no one will notice how
uncomfortable they are. they don't do anything that they believe people
would think disgusting, immoral, revolting, or otherwise a turn-off. the
other type of person, the "rebel" would do things to purposely gross-out,
piss off, raunchify, or in other words, are the antithesis of person #1.
both of these people suck, that is evident. people base so much of
what they do and how they act on the reactions of other people. the correct
person, the 'leet person, or in other words _myself_, would do what i was
going to do anyway. and if they don't like it, tough shit. you should do
the same. if you want to jack-off to gifs of male rock icons with their
shirts off, you go ahead and do that. if you want to make a card house, go
for it. if you want to pull out that dusty mc hammer tape you bought five
years ago, and blast it - do that tew!!#@ nobody's stopping you. they can
see you, but they can't stop you.
isn't it strange how people even try to impress someone they'll never
see or talk to again in their lives, or avoid doing something they sure as
fuck need to do at that moment, just because say.. a fine chick is about to
walk by you?
example: you're in a huge, crowded mall, an incredibly fine chick is
coming in your direction with her huge lug of a boyfriend at her side,
groping her while she playfully slaps his hand away. you want to pick your
nose _really_ bad, it's itching like the dickenz@!# but you don't, because
you don't want to "make a fool out of yourself" in front of a girl that
you'll never talk to, meet, try to persuade to come over, or otherwise
attempt to "score" with. but hey, if this fat chubby senior citizen
grandpa-type with his 1970's jcpenney perma-prest polyester clothes and
golfing hat is chuggin' along side ya, hell.. you'd pick your nose.. up to
the knuckle even. nine times out of ten, the guy will probably be doing the
same, or something even nastier. sheesh, it's really silly when you think
about it.
the basic moral is more than "pick your nose no matter who walks by
ya!" i just encourage all of you to examine the way you deal with every day
situations involving other people. why do you make the decisions you do??
you'll realize that even during the course of a normal day at work, school,
or just hanging out, if you look back on it, you did alot of things that
you wish you hadn't done, and you realize you didn't think before you acted.
it doesn't have to be something with major consequences that you did, but
anything where you were met with a fork in the road, and went a certain
direction. think about it. it'll make you a better person. uhm, honest.
love is another silly thing i need to touch on. i have been in love,
i am currently in love, and i imagine there won't be many times in my life
when i'm not in love with someone. maybe i'm too easily impressed. maybe
just maybe, the "girl next door" that's on the volleyball team and has a
nice smile does it for me. maybe not. maybe i look for the freak, the
chick that is doing whatever comes _after_ being a club kid.. ya know, that
street wise attitude and clothing to match. an extra in a short film called
something like "post-apocalyptic san francisco". well, neither are really
true at all. when you get right down to it, although we may _think_ we fall
in love with people for certain specific reasons, we don't. what sense does
that make? you can't claim to me, in all honesty, that you've fallen in
love with a girl because she was great looking. you can't say you've fallen
in love with a girl because she had a few of the same interests. what fun
would that be? love is a feeling, it may be helped along by certain things,
or triggered by something initially, but you don't know where it emanates
from. you don't know where it begins or ends specifically. it's not
tangible, and you can't analyze it. too many people end up hurting
themselves, their relationships, and their significant other, trying to do
so. if it happens, go with it. i don't believe you can fall in love for
the wrong reasons, because what is "wrong" anyway? you're there, you're
swimming in it, it's everything you think about - your whole existence. you
fell in love, you want to please this person, you'll do anything it takes
and you want them to feel the same way.. love love love, la la la.. undying
affection, the whole schlock'n'schpiel.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ sweet irony
+ submitted by - mogel
from: iguana@magick.net (the iguana man)
newsgroups: alt.society.generation-x
subject: speak english!!
date: 15 oct 1995 12:21:17 gmt
organization: ark enterprises
lines: 24
what is the problem with our society today that are congress can't
even vote "yes" to make english our nationial langauge. they're is always
them few congressman that have to vote "no". that seriously really torkz
the shit out of me!! every other country has a national language exept for
the most powarful nation in the world? does that make cents to you???
i shold not have to go to school and have to learn spanish to get
along!! i am sorry to any spanish speaking peoples that i might be pissing
off but that is how i feal!! now don't get me wrong i am not aganst other
langauges or learning the foreign language. all i is saying is that when
you in a public place you should have a law to speak english!! their is no
reson to speak a forien language in the public. i want to understand what
every1 is saying around me!! i wuldn't even care if spanish was made the
united states language just so every1 spoke it.
now lets just look at it this way i don't mind being insulted but do
it so i can understand it!! i know that more than half the stuff people
says to me in spanish is an insult (i have my friend translate it for me).
i need to be insulted in my own language, even though being yelled at in a
foreign tounge pisses me off even more, it don't make sense. why make fun
of some1 if he don't understand it???
i think that when a person from another country get off the plane,
boat, bus too comes across the boarder their should be a sign that says
"your in america, now speak english!!"
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dto spotlight on - the gnn
the gnn; special guest writer - this man tries desperately to learn english
by writing for the esteemed sweden 'zine, uXu. if not in front of
the keyboard he can be found at the department of philosophy in
uppsala, sweden, rejecting common-sense, democracy and
consequentialism, while defending alcoholism, terrorism and the
computer underground.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ poison
+ submitted by - the gnn
too many people honestly believe that they are free. since they
don't live in a dictatorship nor in a fascist society but in the 'free
world' they think they are "free people" that may do whatever they want.
they'll go on to think that their political and social rights are perfect,
their lives are filled with joy and happiness, and they love their
situation.
however, if you dare to question the above statements in public you
will notice that many of the "free" individuals you are talking to will
become very upset. they will refuse to listen to your arguments since they
have no good arguments themselves. if you claim that the one you are
talking to is not really free, but only falsely believes so, they will
regard you as an enemy.
for example, if you had claimed instead that the sun will not rise
the next day, the free individual will have laughed and tried to convince
you with facts that your belief are very wrong.
so, if everyone knows a fact, and this fact is perfectly true, there
will be no need to become upset if someone believes the opposite. because
facts are facts and nothing can change that. if some misguided individual
thinks something else, well, too bad for him. following the example, the
sun goes up every morning - no question about that. someone who thinks that
the sun will not go up tomorrow is wrong. end of discussion. if they
don't not listen to facts, leave them alone - they're an idiot.
but if something is unclear the situation changes. if two people are
unsure about a fact they can discuss it. "is the fact 'a' or is it 'b'?"
well, we cannot be sure, but we can talk about it and try to come up with a
solution. that is the final purpose of "debate," after all. to come to a
final understanding.
if it _was_ a fact that the people in the free world are really free,
then any discussions about that fact would be unnecessary. however, this is
not a fact. arguments are possible. but do the arguments sometimes turn
into fights when you try to debate it? why do people react so spastically
towards someone insinuating that they are not truly free? can't they just
say "he's an idiot." and move on?
this is because often people don't dare to question their own
situation. they want to believe that they are free. if they were not free,
their lives would lose meaning. this alienation from meaning would mean
confusion. people hate confusion. things are to be as they have always
been. it must be a fact that they are free, it cannot be something unclear.
if it was unclear, it would not be a true fact. it was not a true fact, it
would not be a fact at all.
your claim that people are not really free will touch a sensitive
spot. you are holding their personal meaning of life in your hand, and they
want you to give it back to them without harming it. it is a primitive
defense mechanism in their minds that starts and boosts into full effect.
their ears will be covered, your words will be scrambled before it reaches
their brain. your desire to find the truth will rock their comfortable
chairs. if their defense mechanism would break down, they would become
confused. their confusion would force them to think for themselves and that
is messy business! that demands them to do things that are not just a
habit. the one that does things out of a simple habit never makes any real
choices. it is much easier to live in a cloudy dream with given truths and
given answers.
the dogmatic dream that people experience every second is a result of
a poison. this poison makes them drowsy and easy. they do what they are
told to do; they educate themselves and work until they die. they think
that life is nothing more than that. in theory, they praise the ones that
decide to don't live the life of habits, but in practice they try to
convince the ones around them that the life of habits is the best one. it
is a easy life.
if you remove the meaning of life from a human, you have destroyed
their hope. without hope, life will be very hard. life will be no longer
be in that soft cloudy dream. even worse, there will be no way back to the
dream. the individual will find himself on a path that only offers one
destination: the truth. to reach that truth means a long and hard trek.
some people cannot stand that journey. they sit down and bury their face
in their hands. alcohol, drugs and other short pleasures will be their only
escape from the path. fatigue overwhelms them - they cannot take the
pressure. but those who makes it will be rewarded. nothing is more
enjoyable than a clear sight and a free mind. there will be no state, no
religion, no dogmas at the end of the path. it will just be the greatest
prize of all: the ability to really think for oneself.
well, do you think i am right? i guess you do, since you truly
believe that you are one of the few lucky people that is able to think for
yourself. you believe that your mind is clear and that your eyes see
everything there is to see.
now let's spin this around; let me reveal the tragic fact that you
are just a simple nobody, ruled by and addicted to the poison. you will
never experience real freedom, because you think real freedom is as it is
right now. you do things out of habits. you go to school, you go to work
and soon you will go to your own grave. i bet you think that will be a
matter of choice, too.
if you found yourself in a room without any doors and with the
knowledge that you would die in less than five minutes, what would you do?
would you work or would you think? would you believe that life is nothing
more than doing what you are told to do or would you desire a life built
upon your own decisions? would you truly believe that your own decisions
would cope with the standard life of education - work - death?
you would not. you would wish that you had a second chance. but
there would be no such second chance. now, you are experiencing the only
life you will ever get. of course, life is a bit longer than five minutes.
take care of it, do what you want to do. to do what you really want to do
is really hard, but it is much easier if you begin to think for yourself.
anything goes.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ broken
+ submitted by - shadow tao
"doth it therefore follow from hence likewise that is not really
inherent in the object."
-george berkeley
+-----+
"you want to do a cover of what song, trent?"
"the gummi bears cartoon theme song."
"..."
"yeah, steve?"
"why the 'gummi bears theme song', trent? it just doesn't follow the
body of your work."
"yes it does. you have to feel the underlying pain of the lyrics."
"lesse. hmm. do you have a hard copy of the lyrics?"
"yeah. here."
"gummi bears....dancing here and there...magic and mystery, part of
their history..."
"can't you feel _that_?"
"..."
"um. no."
"..."
"trent. it's about little jelly chewy bears that bounce around in a
magical forest."
"..."
"shut the fuck up steve. you're fired."
"you're nuts. goodbye."
+-----+
nine inch nails had consumed the music industry. there was no
denying that fact. faced with monumental record sales and equally
impressive concert attendance, the critics of reznor and his following fell
away. 'nexus/end' had outsold the rest of reznor's work combined, and the
touring schedule for it had all but destroyed the crew. it had also had a
major effect on trent, as it had broken his sanity into little pieces,
leaving a deranged maniac in control of the most popular name in music.
"okay! 'gothgummi' is recording in 5!"
"no. i have to take a piss."
"trent has to take a piss. we'll start again in 6 minutes."
trent walks over to the drum set, undoing his pants and proceeding to
pee on the snare. the urine runs across the snare head, splashing onto the
cymbals and spilling noisily on the drummer's boots.
"um. okay. someone go clean that up."
"no. let's play from measure 23."
"but the drummer is covered in.."
"i'm sure he can take it. play."
<the musicians all take the cue and begin to play, all shaken by
trent's antics. the drummer is visibly pained, with his head turned away,
urine spraying from the striking of the snare.>
"doesn't that sound better?"
"yes trent. you're right trent. isn't this man a musical.. genius?
he's a musical genius!"
"shut up marty."
+-----+
"an enigmatic, head sundering, conscience transgressing tour de force!"
-spin
"reznor has a gift for the warping of the mind and body. this album
is a tribute to that dark gift."
-rolling stone
"rock gummy bears! cool! kill! kill! death! kill!"
-deformed musician's monthly
+-----+
backstage, on the gothgummi tour:
"you want me to what?"
"cut a hole. where my ass is. about.. hey marty!"
"what?"
"how big's that pole across? you know? that diametric thing."
"about an inch and a quarter."
"you heard him."
"uh."
"now."
"yessir"
"..."
"WH0 HAZ MY PEN1Z HELMET?!@"
"it's right here, trent."
"GLU DA F0Q'N M00ZE H0RNZ 0N N LETZ G0!@#"
"i'm on it right now, trent."
+-----+
the darkness of the shaded control room gently obscures the scene
unfolding below. thousands of fans are writhing in the beat of the giant
speaker banks. trent dances around on stage, wearing his attire, and
screaming the lyrics to the 'gummi bears.'
"god marty. he looks like an idiot.."
"well. look at the crowd. they couldn't care less."
"but look at him. he's got a pole shoved up his _ass_, marty."
"..."
"yeah."
"and he's wearing a helmet shaped like a penis. with moose antlers
glued on, for godsake."
"..."
"yeah."
"it's rock today."
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ zines suck
+ submitted by - james hetfield
four in the morning, and where is matt? sitting as his desk,
pounding away at his keyboard. he was writing his 'greatest' text file
ever; anarchy elite warez end here!
at the same time, on another part of the globe, riyu, a screwed-up
japanese university dropout, was writing away at his underground zine; the
role of humanity vs. humanity.
johnny, the 12 year old child from vermont, grinded away at his keys
writing down his unique processes that, went performed, would blow up the
white house in one swoop.
mike, where is poor mike? mike is writing bad poetry about the sand
and the sun.
* * *
which of these four should gain the most recognition? i would say
the poet, because chances are his horrible poetry isn't just for the
computer world. 'zines are crap, folks. always have been, always will be.
until people actually form a 'zine where they are actually writing for
themselves and not a retarded "underground" audience, the work they create
will not have any relevance to real time life.
let's find some classic examples, shall we?
classic example #1: "scene whining."
EVERY FUCKING ZINE has a criticism about the scene. look, this is
a criticism about the zine! how fucking ORIGINAL of me! it seems no
one can shut their fucking mouths about the 'zine. every chance they get,
they're talking about the scene. did you ever notice that in successful
institutions, they don't whine about the scene, they whine about individual
products of the scene? take something disgustingly male; football. when
was the last time you heard a football player whine about football? it
doesn't happen often. but 'zine writers continually whine about the scene.
it's never anything new, either, it's always the same old shit. and it gets
really old and monotonous.
classic example #2: bad poetry/parody
listen, if you've got a piece of poetry you've worked on for a actual
significant amount of time, it is a piece of work. however, if you're
printing up poems in your 'zine that are still in their rough draft form,
have little or no description, only 'big catchy words' like hell, heaven,
pain, suffering... well, you're helping to bring down the scene. a scene
can only take so much crap. after a certain amount, it begins to drown...
and that is what the underground 'zine world is doing. drowning.
classic example #3: prose vs. essay
most 'zines these days are almost all essay, with very little prose,
if any. and if it does have prose, it's usually crappy and about little
trolls that kill humans or magical penises, etc. prose is an important
element of a 'zine; it gives it a polar look. people who are really into
prose (like me) might actually not skip over the essays people wrote. and
people who generally read essays might read the prose as well. a good
balance helps out the 'zine a lot, and very few 'zines have this balance.
classic example #4: underground gibber
let's face it, ladies and gentlemen. there is little that is
'underground' about the 'zine scene. anyone who can get their hands on a
computer can write up a 'zine. anyone who goes into #new_irc_user will
probably get dcc'd a copy of jonas or klunk or whatnot. one of the big
problems of 'zines is they all say the same things. they are redundant,
and redundant they are, with a little recursive recursivity. i don't think
there are many people who could write anything new about hacking and
phreaking, and put them in a general reader 'zine. "how to eat your eggs
fried" probably has been written about less than "how to blow up your dog".
classic example #5: eye owns joo
why is cdc so popular? because it is one of the few old 'zines still
alive, and many talented people write for it. does everyone want to run a
group like cdc? hell yea. can everyone run it? nope. just like everyone
can't be the perdue chicken man, not everyone can run a popular 'zine. but
everyone tries to. i know i have, way too many times in fact. if i listed
all the different gimmicks for 'zines i've had in the past, this article
would be 300k long. so very few people really stay together long enough to
create a work of art. will dto stand the test of time? the odds are
against it. the odds are against every 'zine, because just about every
talented writer wants to run a 'zine... so the people running 'zines have
shitty submissions. the writers core for a decent 'zine is usually two or
three good writers (including the editor), while a great 'zine would have
maybe five or six good writers. once a 'zine has six or so great writers,
we come to the next problem.
classic example #6: i'll do it tomorrow.
everyone is lazy these days. 'zines are the antithesis of pringles;
once you stop, you can't pop. never once in the days that i have known
'zines have i had a good core of writers all writing for the 'zine at the
same time. it would be three here, three there, but never at the same time.
so the talent pool was efficiently diluted.
if a 'zine could effectively have a good talent pool of writers, who
continually produce, with a relatively balanced amount of prose and essay,
they might have a chance at having an excellent 'zine. but those products
are few and far between.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dto spotlight on - morpheus
morpheus; k-rad writer - in west philadelphia born and raised on the
playground is where i spent most of my days. chillin out maxin
relaxin all cool and all playin wiff mah homeboys outside of the
school; when a couple of guys who were up to no good, started makin
trouble in mah neighborhood. i got in one little fight and my mom
got scared! she said "you're movin with your auntie and uncle in bel
aire." bump bah bump bump dah dah bump. i whistled for a cab and
when it came near, it's license plate said "phresh" and there was
dice in the mirror! if anything i could say that this cab was rare,
but i thought "nah forget it." "yo holmes! to bel aire!" bump bah
bump bump dah dah bump. i pulled up to the house about seven or
eight and i yelled to the cab "yo holmes! smell ya later!" i looked
at mah kingdom, i was finally there! to sit on my throne as the
prince of bel aire!"
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ operation streetpimp
+ submitted by - morpheus
turn on the tv, open up a book, everywhere you look today you see
words. and this means one thing to the government: "WE PHEAR EVIL COMPUTER
HACKERS! THEY HAVE PHRESH GNU WAREZ AND 0-DAY EXPLOIT SCRIPTS! THEY FILLED
OUR SECRET GOVERNMENT X-PHILES-LIKE DIRECTORIES WITH 0-DAY JAPANESE WAREZ!"
words were surely the direct cause of such anarchy, and the government had a
plan.
"...now entering our studio is julie - our returning champion and a
lawyer from vermont, bill - a reporter with the advocate, and goldy - a pimp
from pamona. this is... JEOPARDY!"
"thank you ladies and gentlemen we are proud to have with us three
excellent players today. julie, who is our lawyer, bill, a national
reporter, and of course goldy."
"i be is happy to be here... hahaha, you know?"
"thanks alex! me and my partner watch this show every night. hi
justin!"
"fo' real.. aww shit man ya' a fag man.. fo' real? awww shit, you
know?"
"right! so let's get started with today's categories: 16th century
lit, the roman empire, science, letters and law, treaties and government,
and words that cross. let's begin with goldy who won the toss backstage."
"i be gonna take wordz dat cross fo' 200 alex, know what i'm sayin?"
"alright, these two words don't exist in english and we made them up
before the show."
"bzzzzzt."
"uh.. aww man.. uh... aww man.. aww shit.. i know dis.. aww man...
aww shit. aww man."
"sorry your time is up.. bill or julie?"
"ok, the correct answer was zzjjeiju and eerejzzjie. it looks like
bill knew that one, are you kicking yourself right now bill?"
"yes alex i am... hahaha can you believe i didn't buzz in?! arrhg..
hahaha."
"fo' real dis guy is a fag yo. hahaha... you know?"
"ok goldy you choose, make your next selection."
"aight now.. lemme see.. i'll take words that cross for 300.. you
know what i'm sayin? hahaha... yeah."
"these two words cross, but they don't mean anything and one of them
nobody can pronounce."
"bzzzzt."
"uh.. aww man.. uh... aww man.. aww shit.. i know dis.. aww man...
aww shit. aww man."
"oh sorry, bill or julie?"
"ok the answer was hhhhhhhhhj and hujkeiy. julie, it looks like
you're really mad and hitting yourself in the face for not having buzzed in
on that one."
"arrhg! i knew that one!"
"hahahaha.. shit. fo real."
thus operation streetpimp became a complete success. many pimps from
many cities all over the u.s. went on jeopardy and none of them made it to
the final round. when asked to comment, the spa said "WE PHEAR BoW!" and a
cert spokesperson said "I LIKE SOUP."
thousands of citizen taskforces were taken up to combat what some
people deemed "GUVMENT ABUSE." and burned down a large cardboard box outside
of a walmart in richmond. when pressed for a statement, the spa said "WE
PHEAR BoW!" and a cert rep told us "I LIKE SOUP." (note how their previous
statements coinside.)
much to our regret, their was no free lunch that day and it was never
made into a miniseries, when we contacted the authorities, the spa said "WE
PHEAR BoW!" and an individual from cert told us "I LIKE SOUP."
we finally caught up with goldy outside a motel in pamona. when we
told him bambi's mother died in a forest fire, he responded "aww shit. fo
real?"
a mob of about one person held a demonstration at city call today
where he threw eggs at a picture of the pope and shouted "TAKE DAT!" many
times until he was forceably subdued and dressed like a woman. police
proceeded to put the man in a broom closet in a building across town.
a crowd of angry cockroaches formed outside of what was once the city
hall building to combat what they deemed "GUVMENT ABUSE." the cockroaches
flew small attack choppers and used anti-tank missiles to destroy the
building. when cornered and prodded with a stick, the spa said "WE PHEAR
BoW!" and in the same position three members of the cert commission on
underage drinking concluded "I LIKE SOUP." on several occasions. but there
were no events in which people shot themselves in the foot in order to win
the five hundred dollars _or_ what's behind door number three.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ where's that dignity i ordered?
+ submitted by - king mogel
it's like this; by the time you finish reading this, you'll hate me.
i'm a fuckin' geekster. i've been following this beautiful girl
around my college campus for weeks. i'm becoming grandmaster illogic and
i'm all stupid-like. i fell in deep "like" a little while ago. i asked
some girl out, not to my surprise, she has a good 'ol boyfriend.
it becomes pathetic now. i started spazzing out and spying on this
girl's e-mail, using stupid tricks i learned after years of my fucking
obsession with a computer. it's funny, i know there's so many things wrong
with it, but i couldn't help it. she seemed so "right". yeah, uh-huh.
"specialness" and that feeling of love are complete bullshit.
we, as humans, have the unique ability to completely mind-fuck
ourselves. we can pull in anything from anywhere we want. it _is_ all in
our measly, pathetic heads. we're all "will", with justification to follow
until only _after_ we do what we want for the moment. and i'm here plugging
away at my computer at five in the morning. i'm starting to feel that
i'm-so-tired-i-can't-think-straight-deal.
i sure do love alienation! i'm alive! oh boy! glorious life that
i've been given! i should be thankful! i kicked the ass of millions of
sperm that wanted to be me! ha ha! i sure do rule!
life is a big disinformation superwalkway. we're all zipping along
at different speeds, and we stop (some more than others) every now and then.
we take little detours. we stop sometimes for the fuck of it and ask a
whole slew of generic questions on life. your looking for some answers and
some sorta funky meaning to love and sex and relationships.
it's all a big joke. you think you're spitting out deep things, but
there's a million people before and after you that have the same feelings
you do. you're nothing special. you're yet another lonely guy, that
justifies his anger at girls, with pseudo-bullshit philosophy. i know, i'm
there.
you whine, whine, whine - and then you turn around one day and you
have all these warm bubbly feelings for someone you hardly knew just a short
time ago. infatuation is a rush. emotions are tasty. thought is so rare
it pains me.
i've been living here at college weeks laughing in the faces of
people that profess their "love". i _hate_ that people have no idea what
the word means. I _hate_ that the english language has only one word that
means so many different things. all i've learned about love over my entire
life full of observation is this;
_no one_ has a fucking clue.
love being a completely alien concept to my life, i have no clue
either. honestly, almost every part of me wants to scream and point out the
examples. i've _never_ seen a relationship that wasn't relatively one-sided
or complete bullshit. a heaping of infatuation, a sprinkle of attraction,
or even a smidgeon of loneliness - all mistaken for love. most people are
just lonely and call the loss of loneliness "love" when they find someone
that equally feels lonely and "needs" attention. almost every part of me
wants to declare that love just _doesn't_ exist and make it that simple.
but for some reason i can't. something in me still says it's real.
perhaps it's lame hope. when you've spent all of your energy, and when life
becomes tired, things like obsession and how many boogers you have in your
nose are the only things that begin to matter. it's only then, when you're
depressed, lonely, and burned-out that you pay attention to the clacking
that your keyboard makes and you wish that the speed that your future
athritus-ridden fingers typing was any measurement of your heart and how you
feel.
it's supposedly normal to feel this way. you hear yourself muttering
the same old angst of youth and other typical bullshit. you're just another
one.
_all_ girls are flaming idiots. no. wait. let me rephrase that.
all _guys_ are flaming idiots. girls are even more of an incarnation of
idiocy because they actually _fuck_ guys. what's worse is that they fuck
the more _stupid_ guys. i mean, come on now. just because all guys suck,
doesn't mean you shouldn't be selective. does he treat you bad? oh boy!
there's such a thrill in the let down! more pain! gimme! gimme! you're
telling a big joke and you, my friend, are the punchline.
"ha, ha."
yes, there are exceptions, but ultimately you realize that 90% of
_everyone_ sucks. even more, you wonder why any of it's even worth it. the
expression "nice guys finish last" has never been more true in college life
today. girls like to cloud each other with their feminist propaganda, but
show me any self-declared feminist and i'll show you a hypocrite.
what can someone do? there becomes two options, either you do what i
do, which is be completely "who you are" and pray that you're one of the
lucky one-in-a-million people that gets into a good relationship by complete
chance.
or you can do what my roommate does. which basically comes down to
this for getting into a relationships as a young person.
whatever you do - don't be you.
do, say, or manipulate them in any way you can think of. why be
yourself if you can just tell them what they want to hear and they'll melt
in your hands? oh, morality is forgotten easily. if you have the ability
to completely mind-fuck someone, why not use it? it's a rush. i'm up on
my darwinism, pal. are you?
ooh yeah. this isn't just a "youth wrestling with the concept of
love." deally. i'm not writing a piece of fuckin' romantic crap. you'll
find no "i need someone to cuddle with"s here.
hey kids, here's some tips for youth angst!
1. loneliness is a disease; spread it!@
2. glorify your depression; be the first on _your_ block!@
3. hate everyone. life sucks. didn't you know? everyone sucks.
this shit gets gets all twisted and distorted and mixed-up in with
those feelings of self-hate that many of us have and never really knew how
to deal with. mostly because we never really had long-term loving
relationships, or parents that knew how to "connect" with us.
and you sit there like a fuckin' bump on a log having these dreams of
of one day meeting that "someone". the one for _you_!@ LOVE. soul-mate
stuff. you have spats of insanity and loneliness where you're sitting alone
staring at something in the dark. eventually you might find yourself doing
something to pass the time. thinking that maybe that person will just walk
through your door and be taken by you. you waste away doing stupid shit,
like writing babble or spying on someone's email. and you're wondering when
the fuck something - _anything_ is going to happen. you wanna jump up and
scream "is any of this confusion worth it?!@"
it's a decision that i wish i could make.
does love exist? indeed. it waits to grab the most real people.
the people with patience and will. people that _can_ wait it out, without
any of the bullshit. people that _can_ appreciate someone independent of
the stupid "needing" and sappy stuff that they get from their relationship.
you don't look for it, you let it look for you. all you need to do is make
yourself findable.
fuck it. you've heard enough. i'm getting off this freakin 'puter
today. i'm going outside. you coming?
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ dew - condiments; chapter 1/0
+ submitted by - murmur
upon finding ourselves in an enticingly precarious position this wet
and sticky morning, we decided to advance, flanked by a rather weak
artillery barrage, towards the strategically located but otherwise
unimpressive ocean. upon reaching said ocean, we discovered that the enemy
had retreated and drowned, making our effort a miserable waste. flustered
but not willing to spoil a perfectly beautiful day, we rounded up some nice
fryin' ducks and had ourselves a feast. unfortunately the contigent was
woefully low on bastions and a beer brawl broke out, sidelining the phantom
of the regiment for long enough to allow a bizarre and somewhat unexpected
filtration of pan. it was not a very arduous task to defeat pan, but pan
was definitely a feisty little bugger, possessing great speed, Teflon, and
one hell of a knack for overeasy eggs. luckily, we were all gorgeous german
co-eds for a few hours, and we failed to waste our time in the twain of the
twixt. not even a great bearer of fruit and tidings could reverse the
avalanche now, and we were forthwith caved in by our own fierce gluttony.
however, having a fondness for such candy coated gluttony, we ate it to our
hearts' content and proceeded to wryly vomit it from whence it had come.
slugsby saw fit. the war was over, but the battle rages on, so we went to
switzerland and made us some clocks.
moral: tie him to the masthead until he's sober.
slur-pee.
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
+ urination
+ submitted by - y-windoze
teehee was her laugh.
far below the children screamed.
root was but an unknown dream.
the warez were hot.
the hst fast.
the night young, long, forever.
root was mine.
exploit sendmail all the time.
i had to pee.
i had to pee.
whoa is me.
but damn it,
i had to pee...
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
doomed to obscurity issue four has been brought to you by the letters
e, l, and the number eight.
all correspondence should be directed towards - dto@prism.net
to get on the dto mailing list - send mail to mail to majordomo@prism.net
with the body of the message saying "subscribe dto".
d2o four / all rights reserved - 1995 - doomed to obscurity press
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+