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lemon magazine issue #9

it smells like ass in here!@#

in this issue

welcome to lemon obsidian's editorial why i suck
mr. holland's opus i'm outdated real life hackers
mr richards' day out highschool bands pardon me, i'm dying
iced mocha die lamahz misc thoughts

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

ok, so i'd like to start this issue off by saying a couple things.
first, two apologies: there were quite a few typos and errors in lemon seven,
and lemon eight was well...not great. i think this was caused by several
things: me being sick, my overall dark mood, and other stuff...mainly i just
wasn't feeling like writing, but felt the urge to put lemon out. doesn't make
sense, but maybe you understand.

anyway, i'm taking this issue in a different direction than i've taken
lemon before. this issue will be mainly about music, in its various forms, and
its effect on the human soul. music basically consumes my life anymore, so i
guess it seems natural that i should be writing about it.

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

i think it's a pity anymore how many people, upon hearing the word
'music,' immediately think of popular music, perhaps from the radio station
that they listen to. yeah, sure, this is probably the music that thse people
relate to the most. but then that says something about our culture. the wide
range of music out there, in various forms, it not only overwhelming, but just
incredible. i mean, how many people have even listened to any amount of
classical music, much less foriegn music or especially digitalized music. what
percentage of the populace has ever heard an original composition in the form
of a .mod? people's ideas and opinions of music today are far too limited.
because it's not mainstream, most people would never listen to it. music is of
the soul...and i don't believe for a minute that the human spirit was created
on the premise of music from top-40 radio stations...

why are so people so stubborn about expanding their horizons?

::[why i suck]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

uhm...i suck.

here i am, sitting in front of my computer, writing a ascii-based 'zine
that maybe 50 people will ever hear of in their lifetime. i'm sitting here,
listening to a cd of a band that people call 'alternative.' i respect myself
because i can operate over seven different operating systems, fluently program
in five computer programming languages and actually understand the details
unix. but to most of the world, i'm basically meaningless.

ironic, don't you think, what power has been put in the hands of
someone like me?

i have the power to express my ideas and influence someone else's mind.
i can change someone's mind about something. my ideas are communicated, at no
cost to me, to the ends of the earth. anyone who wants to, with some simple
electronic equipment can read them.

that is power.

::[mr. holland's opus]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

i don't know how many of you have seen the movie mr. holland's opus
yet, or what you've heard about it if you haven't. having seen it three times
in the theater already, i'm suggesting to everyone of you who hasn't seen it to
go and see it and make a judgement for yourself about it's message. at least
rent it...that's what...three bucks?

for those of you who don't know, the basic premise of the story is a
composer, mr. holland, takes a teaching position in order to earn money until
he can afford to spend all his time composing. he ends up working all his life
as a music teacher, influencing the lives of countless numbers of students.

anyway, you like me are probably not h0gw1ld about the public education
system, which plays a major role in this movie, but the film does show one
teacher, perhaps similar to one you might've known, who actually did make a
positive difference to the lives of their students.

see the film...

::[i'm outdated]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

uhm...whadduhell?

ok, so i've been out of the ansi scene for a long time, right? it's
probably been almost two years since i've really done any serious ansi work or
been involved with any major groups and stuff. anyway, so i'm trying to get
some ansi or at least some ascii for my board to make it k-rad, and i'm trying
to find it on the net so that i don't have to rack up ld bills downloading old
packs. i couldn't find anything.

i found the acid homepage, where all the links and information are
outdated and broken. the ice sites i knew are down and i couldn't find anyone
who really knew anything on irc...if i'd checked with the people on #ice or
#acid, they probably could've told me something, but didn't recognize anyone
there. well, then after browsing some more broken web pages, i find out that
integrity merged with acid. if politics are the same as they were, that means
that the world has come to an end. perhaps it did. as nearly as i can tell,
the art scene is nearly dead...at least compared to its former "glory"...

even though i can't stand d3wdleb0ys, you have to admit that there was
something glamorous and glorified about the whole "artists of the underground"
thing...but i suppose that is mostly dead...the pirate scene isn't quite what
it was either, so i'm told.

actually, the main reason that i was trying to get this stuff was
because i was going to set up an "0ld-sk00l" hack/phreak/warez board...complete
with old cheezy ansi and vision-x. butthe more i thought about it, the more
pathetic the situation seemed to me. it finally occured to me that when i
entered the bbs scene, that's what boards were actually like. i'm really drawn
to that for some reason.

i long for the old elitism and pirating...help.

::[real life hackers]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

occasionally you hear a story or two about people who've 'hacked' some
large corperate business or some federal government facility. while these
stories are often blown out of proportion, the fact still remains that there
are people who are doing this type of thing, and on a fairly regular basis,
without people noticing.

question: who _are_ these people?!@

i mean, i've been around computers from a young age, and i can do
pretty much anything with a computer and a good compiler...but what inspires
these people do spend days trying to get into the mainframe of internation
widgets incorperateds mail server?!@# i mean, sure, if there was money
involved, i'd see it...and then there's the thing of 'well, it's just for the
thrill of it. hacking is like this major high, man.' bullshit.

if you know one of these people, force them to bathe and see if you can
at least coax them out of their room for an hour or two...invite them out for
an cappuccino...if they had exposure to real people they might realize that
there's more to life than unix.

::[mr. richards' day out]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

mr. richards stared out the window as the rain beaded up on the glass.
he glazed out emotionless, staring into nothingness, as if thinking about
something far away. there was a knock on the door, but he stood motionless.

"mr. richards? time for breakfast," a cheery voice said. following
the announcement a black woman in a nurses uniform entered the room. she
seemed to match the voice well, she had a happy expression on her face. mr.
richards didn't turn around to notice it.

"aren't you hungry today?" she asked.

"leave! get out of here you filthy whore!" he shouted, still not
moving. her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. shocked, the nurse grabbed the
used towels on the chair and hurried out of the room. he slowly turned to
watch as she closed the door with a familiar click.

mr. richards slowly moved over to the closet, where he found a light
blue wind breaker, which he proceeded to put on. after fixing the collar, he
walked out of his room, and after looking down the hallway and seeing nothing
out of the ordinary, he walked out of the building and down the path to the
side walk.

as he began walking down the sidewalk, he began humming a tune, but
stopped when he saw three youths on skateboards moving down the sidewalk
towards him. he kept walking, watching the boys as they approached. when they
came near, he moved to the edge of the sidewalk, in order to help avoid getting
hit, though when they passed the second boy almost knocked him off his balance.

"damn kids! damn technological corruption!" he screamed after them.
the youths just continued down the sidewalk. he traveled another half a block
before stopping at a bench to recover. after sitting there no more than five
minutes, a rastfarian-looking man approached and took a seat next to him. his
appearance, not to mention the distinct smell of cannibus took mr. richards
completely off guard.

"ughm--hello there," richards got out, rather uncomfortably.

the rastafarian took it for what it was worth, "hey there--how's it
goin?"

"good i believe, except i'm having trouble finding young virgins,"
richards said now looking right at the other man.

"what?"

"you know--young virgins."

"why are you looking for them?"

"i need some work done."

"uhm...work?"

"yes, i need to order a t1 line to be installed at my house."

"really? i work for the phone company."

"indiana bell?"

"well, yes..."

"i suppose you will suffice, you're a bit dingy though," richards said.

"um, sure," the rastafarian said, confused.

"i also need you to mail a package for me," richards said.

"what is it?" the other man asked.

"it's a bomb," richards said. the rastafarian gasped, then in a flash
of horror, darted down the street as fast as he could.

MORAL OF THE STORY:
YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THE GUY NEXT TO YOU IS THE UNABOMBER.

(or unibomber if you're a cool guy named drone)

::[highschool bands]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

there's something incredibly cool about highschool garage bands...

i mean, just the fact that they suck really bad and have no talent, but
are around just to make music anyway is just utterly cool. it's just a cool
thing t do. that's why i get really tired of punk bands that get really big.
i mean, grow up. this is for highschool kids.

message: this is all a lie.

::[pardon me, i'm dying]::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

so i'm sick for like a week, and so i stay home from school. during
this time, my friends call me, asking me if i want to do stuff with them.
mostly they want me to solve their problems and pat them on the head and tell
them they're really good people and deserve to continue living. um...no.

generally when i'm coughing up blood i don't feel like being around
anyone. what i really want during a time like that is people going around
"lucy dumped me! i suck, i'm gonna commit suicide!" yeah.

no see, i don't care.

::[iced mocha]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

dear obsidian,

you're so rad. i love you. i wish you'd write for other zines
besides yours, because you're so inspired and smart, everyone
should be able to read your profound wisdom in every zine in
the tfile scene. why do you only write for lemon?

your biggest fan,

juanita@green_earth.org

*!*

dear juanita,

shut up you pathetic sack of shit. i hate you. i only write for lemon
because it's a solo project, and i really don't have that much time, so
i put all effort into that. sometimes i write for grill, cuz i'm cool
like that. yeah. now go bathe yourself you skanky-ass whore.

obsidian@lem0n.org

::[die lamahz]:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

ur l4m3. j34h!@# d13!@

ur lame cuz you don't submit to lemon. really. you've been bad, and
now it's all coming back around...phear it, bubba.

the shits about to hit the fan.

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

this is the last lemon. there will not be another by me. i don't
really know why i've decided to end this little project, except that i know
that i want to move on to other things...don't count me out though, i'll most
likely write stuff in grill or something...just no more lemon.

"and there was much rejoicing." "yea."

thanks to everyone who's read lemon...j00 r0x.

lemon est mort.

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

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

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

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

also try trg: 309 452 5639 (it's up occasionally)
ops: juke

call soup: 800 SPANK ME (not yet)
ops: obsidian, the unabomber

there will most likely never be a lemon page on zinew0rld:

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

sorry if this issue offended you, but if it did, it's cuz you suck.

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