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Radioactive Aardvark Dung E-Zine :: ISSN 1092-5449
Issue #16 % Released May 30, 1997
Without Prejudice and Explicit Reservation of All My Rights, UCC 1-207
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Argh, ANOTHER Editorial?"
as screamed like a little girl by TMM
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
Damnit, I have to write another one of these.
Fortunately, times haven't changed & I can't think of a damn thing
to talk about in this "forum" to my readers.
So I'm not going to break from the trend, I'm going to continue my
little editorial "strike" & not write anything meaningful or substantial in
here whatsoever.
This is not because I no longer agree with the idea of writing an
Editorial, mind you, it's just that I need to have some excuse for not
having any fucking clue what to write about anymore.
I don't have advice for you, I don't have any socially important
things to say (that wouldn't get edited out by other RAD Staff members) or
really anything funny to say at all. That point will be made rather obvious
as the you continue reading the issue.
Anyhow, because I'm feeling so dumb & stupid for not being able to
think of a single thing to say right now I'm going to feel sorry for myself
& you get to read about it.
So here we go. The following are ten reasons I'm the most under-
appreciated 'zine editor ever. Enjoy it because it's at my expense,
asshole.
10. I had to edit the unlucky number 13 issue.
9. I'm of a different nationality than Mercuri & Handle & therefore
am discriminated against.
8. I don't write anything funny so they think they can push me
around.
7. I'm smarter than all of you so you envy & shun me.
6. I never get any credit for anything I do. Never any e-mail or IRC
feedback on anything I write. At least have the decency to tell
me I suck.
5. I have completely different political views on everything from
Mercuri & Handle so they hate me for it.
4. I'm older, therefore distrusted.
3. I don't even have a "Bio" on the RAD homepage. Even people like
Halo8 (no offense) have Bios & they've only written for RAD once.
It would make sense that one of the EDITORS would have a Bio.
2. My name (TMM) begins with a "T" which is higher on the alphabet so
I'm always listed last & thereby a socially constructed hierarchy
is shaped around me keeping me under the iron fist of Mercuri &
Handle & also blurring me into non-extistence. An example:
"TMM who?"
1. I only have one factoid on the factoid page on the homepage.
So you see why I have my angst & why I have some sort of mental
blockage towards writing editorials. I can't seem to get over the feeling
that someone is watching me & that you all hate me & aren't really reading
this anyways.
I'm a loser & don't let anyone tell you different.
============================================================================
============================================================================
This issue of Radioactive Aardvark Dung contains the work of a certain
celebrity who is supposed to be dead. He is writing under the pen-names
TMM, Mercuri, Intrepid, Styx and Haji to fool and lull all of you readers
into submission.
His identity will be kept secret for now and will be revealed when he
implements his plan to take over the world. Radioactive Aardvark Dung
E-Zine is simply a platform for him to build followers, brainwash them and
then use them as puppets under his iron fist of absolutism.
Elvis lives!!!
============================================================================
============================================================================
"RAD News"
this time by Tom Brokaw's rival, Dan Rather (TMM)
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
Did you really think I would use that stupid drunk joke again in this
article? So did I until just about three seconds ago when instead of typing
something like "Hi, I'm drunk just like Tom Brokaw." I typed what you're
reading now.
Actually three seconds is a bit of an exaggeration, I don't really
type that fast (though I'm SORTA quick) but I decided to write three
instead of ten because it was funnier. I'll sell my soul to make you laugh
you lucky bastard.
"Hey Cool Thing, what I really wanna know is, what are you gonna do
for me?" -- Sonic Youth
That's what I want to know.
Writing an issue of RAD isn't easy, I've already spoken of this once
before in a crazed editorial but I think I should reiterate it. Writing
funny (at least, stuff that is intended to be funny) articles takes a little
while.
It takes just a bit longer when you don't have any help.
Unfortunately, two unnamed RAD editors, Handle and Phorce, felt like
we didn't need any of their help this issue. Obviously we did. This issue
is in no way, shape or form as funny as it could've been. Granted, I've
had my absences in the past but they never had to do all of this.
So in this issue, the only members of the RAD High Society (Mercuri,
Handle, Me and Phorce) that will be featured will be myself (obviously!)
and Mercuri.
But we do have outside help! (Which is a tragedy in and of itself
but that's another story.) Styx wrote us three cool submissions that you
will certainly be privelaged enough to read in a few short minutes.
Our man Styx sure does excel under heavy competition from they
multitude of other submitters... he even recruits them for us, as in the
case of Haji writing us his golden submission. I bet you also noticed the
schnazzy new logo at the top, also courtesy of Haji. Everyone send out a
warm welcome E-Mail to Haji in his virgin RAD appearance.
Remember to be gentle, he is a virgin after all.
But wait! That's not it, at the last minute (when pretty much the
entire issue was written) our new favorite person in the entire world
Intrepid decided to honor us with several of his quality submissions. This
crazy Canuck from Winnipeg has lots to say and we're glad he's saying it.
We're so glad in fact that on the behalf of myself, Mercuri and the rest
of the so far absent RAD High Society I'd like to bestow upon Intrepid the
RAD Submittee of the Month Award.
The prize that Intrepid will be recieving is a full-time expectation
of many submissions per issue from now on. Also, as if this was anything
flashy or glamorous, Intrepid will get FREE sex with Phorce's mom.
Which of course comes with all the "flied lice" he wants.
But aside from that, this issue is simply the brainchild of Mercuri
and I. We aren't mad at Handle and Phorce, just a little disappointed. We
understand that they were a bit too busy to write anything (!!) at all for
us and it's alright. This is by no means a complaint, only an informative
statement to our readers who might be worried about the health of two of
our best writers.
ANYWAYS, I've worn that subject to death.
Sometime in the near future rad.edu will be up. That depends on how
much work Phorce is willing to put into that (I fear!) and if the proper
variables fall into place according to Mercuri's Master Plan [tm].
Also look for Bootleg RAD #3 which should be coming out sometime
during this summer (another of Phorce's projects) and will feature lots and
lots of HILARIOUS funnies that due to whatever mistakes or constraints
didn't make the pages of RAD.
Not to say those submissions are bad, they're just special!
Special is cute, and so is Bootleg RAD, so read it, love it and write
for us and maybe YOU TOO will someday become a part of our infamous Bootleg
staff.
Speaking of cute, haven't you always dreamed about meeting Mercuri,
Handle, and possibly myself (the illustrious genius' behind these very words)
in person? Don't worry, we won't laugh at you, we'll be too busy laughing at
all of the other 'zine kids that'll be there.
YES, OTHER 'ZINE KIDS.
Of what grassroots movement gathering am I speaking? The one and only
Dummercon 3, the summer event where the entire international 'zine scene gets
together and look bleary-eyed at each other at amazement while calling each
other by handles instead of our real names.
Sure, other writers of other great 'zines will be there but that isn't
important to you, is it dear loyal reader? The important part is that WE,
RAD E-ZINE INCARNATE, will be in attendance. So you should come too!
For more info check out the Official Dummercon 3 web-page at :
http://www.dto.net/
Hope to see you there!
Lastly on our agenda for this evening is the unfortunate subject of
our tardiness. We shall deal with this shortly and sweetly.
Okay, WE ARE LATE, DEAL WITH IT.
Stay tuned for more entertaining news in the next issue of
Radioactive Aardvark Dung, until then, read this issue over and over again.
============================================================================
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Beware of the secret subliminal messages in this issue.
Note: The previous sentence was NOT a subliminal message.
============================================================================
==============================================================kill=your=mom=
This Just in!
VIRTECH -- A Vancouver, British Columbia Web Development company --
is offering $7,500.00 to the first hacker who can crack its server.
SEVEN THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.
If anyone knows how to hack that server I'll give them 3/4ths of the
money in exchange for the URL!
C'mon, it's a good deal!
E-Mail chris41@juno.com if you're interested.
Have a nice day.
==========================================================================================
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"H.R. 421; A New Policy Proposal to Remedy the Problems of the War on Drugs"
as legislated by Mercuri
E-Mail: jwapienn@pla-net.net
I think I have figured out how to win the War on Drugs. Here's what
we should do. We take a kid from high school and bring them to the
elementary schools. Then take them from class to class and point out their
poor grooming, dress, smell and intelligence.
By now the kids are already convinced, but we must go further. For a
week straight we should subject elementary school children to tapes of their
conversations, their slow, drawn-out speech, their crappy poetry and poor
writing skills.
Then at the end of this "Drug Prevention Week" we can bring the high
school kid back and once again display him in front of the class.
"Okay boys and girls, today's new word is 'Loser.' Can you say
'Loser?'"
"LOSER!"
"What's a Loser? Show me a Loser, class. Point to the Loser!"
And they will all point to the high school kid.
============================================================================
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"Gordon, the Guy Who Says Stupid Shit a Lot"
as told from the first person by Styx
E-mail: dropdead@mindspring.com
PART ONE: Gordon Goes Shopping!
Gordon merrily pranced down aisle four, humming along to the muzak
drifting down from the speakers in the ceiling.
Part-way down the aisle, he spied some cereal boxes and noticed a new
design on the front cover of Lucky Charms.
"Hello!" Gordon exclaimed. "What's this?"
He realized that Lucky The Leprechaun had introduced yet another
marshmallow in his glucose pantheon; a peach-colored, erect penis. The
picture on the box depicted Lucky watching a young, freckle-faced young boy
give fellatio to the new Charm.
"That's curious!" exclaimed Gordon, and walked to aisle five.
============================================================================
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"Scooby-Doo Mysteries, Volume I"
as narrated by TMM
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
[Reprinted with permission from myself from Relish E'Zine, copyright TMM]
[Note:This is a heavily edited & revised version from the original which]
[appeared in Relish Six on October 31, 1996. To get a copy of said issue]
[or any other issue of Relish go to ftp://ftp.etext.org/pub/Zines/Relish]
<Cue Spooky Music>
Fade in. The Mystery Machine is driving through a certainly scarey place.
As usual, Freddy is driving, Daphne has shotgun & is giving Freddy head,
Velma is really nowhere to be found, & Shaggy & Scooby are smoking a bowl
on Scooby's two foot Graffix bong.
Shaggy: "Like, where are we?" <gulp>
Freddy: "We're going to Auntie Ann's new house, it's a little beat up &
she needs our help to fix it up!"
Shaggy: "Like, if she has food, then Scoob & I are all for it!"
<Shaggy & Scooby nod respective heads>
<All laugh>
<They arrive at an obviously haunted house, the Mystery Machine stops>
Freddy: "C'mon gang!"
<Daphne raises her head & swallows>
<Shaggy & Scooby stumble out in a cloud of noxious smoke>
<Velma suddenly appears>
[-----]
Fade in. They are in Auntie Ann's kitchen & Shaggy just made a three foot
tall sandwhich. Mmm, the munchies.
Auntie: "Well, I'm so glad you kids got here, this is a big house & I can't
fix it up alone!"
Freddy: "No problem, Auntie!"
Daphne: "Mm-hmm!" <Cocks her brow, looks at Freddy & glances upstairs>
Freddy: "Well Auntie, we're tired & want to get some sleep for tomorrow."
Auntie: "Ok, there are some bedrooms upstairs, you kids make yourself at
home."
Freddy: "Oh we will!"
<Gang starts walking upstairs>
Auntie: "Oh yes, I suppose I should tell you this first, there's an old
legend that the old owners were all killed by some guy named Old Man
Withers & now a ghost haunts this dump."
Velma: "Well, we aren't afraid of ghosts, are we gang?"
<Shaggy & Scooby gulp, drop their sandwiches & run upstairs>
Freddy: "We'll chance it, Auntie. See you in the morning!"
Auntie: "Goodnight!"
<Freddy & Daphne run upstairs, already undressing>
<Shaggy & Scooby get the Graffix out of the van & go get ready for bed>
<Velma disappears in a Poof!>
Fade out for a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System, which was only
a test, we repeat, it was only a test.
<Commercial>
[-----]
Fade in. Shaggy & Scooby have finished smoking & are thoroughly trashed.
Freddy & Daphne are still in their room with the door closed. Velma is
nowhere to be found.
<A Ghost of a certainly scarey old man enters Shaggy & Scooby's room, of
course>
Ghost: "I'm haunting this place!"
Shaggy: "Holy fuck, this is bad-ass bud!"
Scooby: "I'll say!"
Ghost: "I'm gonna kill you!"
Scooby: "Oh my God!" <he & Shaggy run off>
<Scooby stumbles into a table & knocks it over, spilling all of its
contents on the floor. For some God-forsaken reason, a piece of paper
is stuck to his nose. Scooby finds himself comfortable & chills out.>
<Shaggy runs into Freddy & Daphne's room & hides under the covers. Freddy
& Daphne continue their lovemaking>
<Velma appears in front of Scooby, fully dressed. Was she sleeping? Where
the hell was she?>
Velma: "Look, Scooby found a clue!"
<Snatches paper off of Scooby's nose, who has passed out at this point>
<Paper is read aloud by Velma>
Paper: "I'm Old Man Withers, I killed all of the people that used to live
here because there is buried treasure somewhere underneath the house,
too bad I can't find it & have to haunt the place to scare people
away until I find it."
<Velma ponders>
<The Ghost chases Scooby & Shaggy into some room where they are suddenly
dressed in "happy clothes" & are posing as salon "stylists" talking in high
voices with lisps. They sit the Ghost down in a chair that just randomly
appeared & begin massaging his temples & wining about his "pasty
complexion.">
<Scooby then ties the Ghost up in the chair, preventing it from escaping>
<Freddy, Daphne, Velma & Auntie run in, all fully clothed, except Auntie,
who is totally nude. Dennis Rodman follows close behind in her underwear.>
Freddy: "Aha! We have you now! Did you think you could get away from us?
Auntie, I'd like to show you your Ghost! Here's RED HERRING!!"
<Drama>
<Some typically corny dramatic music too>
<Freddy rips the sheet off of the Ghost & reveals <tension builds>
BOB DOLE!!>
<All gasp>
Freddy: "Bob Dole?"
Bob Dole: "& Bob Dole would've gotten away with it if it hadn't been for you
snooping kids!"
<Everyone looks around confused>
Velma: "Wait, you didn't do anything Bob Dole!"
Bob Dole: "I know!! But Bob Dole just stumbled into the linen closet while
looking for some dame named Daphne's room! I was told to look for
you if I wanted to 'relieve my post-election woes.'"
<Daphne smiles & starts fixing her hair>
<Freddy smiles & puts his arm around Daphne>
Shaggy: "So, like, uh, this isn't the like, real Ghost?"
Velma: "No, Shaggy, the real Ghost has yet to be found!"
<All gasp again, except Dennis Rodman, who begins pouring hot wax on Bob
Dole>
Dennis Rodman: "This is what I want to do to the refs!"
Bob Dole: "Oh baby, Bob Dole must've come to the right place!"
<All laugh>
<Suddenly a Ghost stumbles out from a pile of boxes in the corner & passes
out in the middle of the floor in a pool of his own vomit & urine.>
<All gasp>
<Velma rips the sheet off the old drunk ghost>
All: "OLD MAN WITHERS?!?!?"
Freddy: "Uh, Old Man Withers? What does he have to do with this?"
Velma: "Well, you see, based on the clues I found & my supercomputer
deductive reasoning, I figured out that Old Man Withers killed
the old family because there was buried treasure & he haunted this
pile of shit to scare everyone away until he found it!"
<All gasp>
Withers: "& I would've gotten away with it if it hadn't been for you
God Damn snooping kids!"
<Police enter & take Old Man Withers away. Who called them? There must
be ANOTHER Ghost eliminating his competition, I bet!>
Auntie: "Thank you kids! You saved my profitable whorehouse from utter
ruin! The ghost (Old Man Withers) was scaring away all of the
customers!"
<All cheer>
Auntie: "Now, that's enough celebrating. Daphne, get your scrawny ass
upstairs, you have a customer waiting!"
Bob Dole: "Thanks Auntie, both Bob & Liddy Dole thank you for your kindness.
Thanks gang for making sure I got a piece today!"
Freddy: "He's right, good job gang, & especially you, Scoob!"
Velma: "Yeah, here's a ten-strip of Scooby Snacks for our favorite
detective!"
<Scooby & Shaggy cut off five apiece, drop it all & wander away>
<They reappear a half-hour later stumbling, laughing & waving their hands
in front of their faces>
Gang: "Hey Scooby!"
Scooby: "Scooby-Dooby-Doo!!"
Fade out to credits & more bad Scooby-Doo music.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Belieive It"
Schreiben bei Mercuri
E-mail: jwapienn@pla-net.net
DATELINE: Kikapoo, Montanna; April 29th, 1997:
Dear: "Honey, I'm home!"
Honey: "Hi, Dear!"
Dear: "Can you believe we live in a place called Kikapoo?"
Honey: "No, I can't, Honey. I love you."
Dear: "I love you too."
Yes, things were going quite well in Kikapoo that day.
DA-DUM. *AKWARD SILENCE*
Dear: "Honey, can you believe we have a dog named Fred?"
Honey: "Why, yes."
Dear: "Can you believe our dog Fred lives in a place called
Kikapoo?"
Honey: "No."
DA-DUM. *AKWARD SILENCE*
[-----]
Please don't move to Kikapoo, it creates more problems then it
solves.
============================================================================
============================================================================
"A Newbie's Guide to Working at Walmart"
as foretold by Intrepid
E-Mail: intr3pid@hotmail.com
If you've read anything of mine in the past, then this article
shouldn't be much of a suprise, it's about Walmart, baby. I'd like to call
it:
"The True, Definitive Guide to Avoiding Boredom as a New Walmart Employee"
But TMM said it was too long and stupid so he wouldn't let me. That
fascist bastard will die a slow death, I swear it.
Being employed at Walmart is tiresome, annoying work. You can, and
will go crazy if you don't have a strategy. Even better, you don't have to
be bored to do this, I'm not.
A. Lie. Lie your heart out. Really. Walk around the store, find
and help people in departments you know nothing about. For me, this
is my own deptartment, the one and only Pets department.
So I find someone in pets and make up a bunch of stuff about say cat
food. Spread lies, rumors. It's called advertising. If anyone asks
you a question you MUST lie. Give yourself a point for every lie,
two for succesful ones. Keep score to measure the success of each
day in that rotting, stinking hell-hole.
Note: Keep in mind that Electronics is a particularily good
deptartment for this and most especially while on the phone. Most
people don't know that jam is a great way to clean cd-players.
B. Play "Spot the Propaganda." Everywhere you look you'll see signs
telling you: Sam Walton loves you! We love you! You'd be suprised.
It's everywhere, on the walls, ceilings, and screensavers. It's in
the lounge, on billboards, and on the food. Every morning you have
to sing a Walmart song. It's frightening, horrible even.
"GIMME A W"
"GIMME AN A"
"GIMME AN L"
"GIMME AN M"
"GIMME AN A"
"GIMME AN R"
"GIMME A T!"
"WHAT'S THAT SPELL?"
"WALMART!#@%$"
"WHO RULES?"
"WE DO!"
"WHO IS THE BEST?"
"WE ARE!"
"WHO SHOULD WE WORK TO BE LIKE?"
"MR. SAM!"
"WHO DO WE LOVE?"
"EVERYONE!#*{body}amp;"
Maybe I'm simply an ignorant Walmart employee but DIDN'T SAM WALTON
DIE YEARS AGO? HOW COULD HE LOVE ME? HE NEVER NEW I EXISTED!
Next point.
C. Be cruel. Go to Pets, and scoop out all of the dead fish. Let
little kids see them, touch them, smell them, taste them. Offer it
to them. One 12 year-old wanted a dead Angel Fish in a bag, so I
gave it to him. As TMM so intuitively [as I always do --TMM] stated,
I should have charged him. Little bastard probably worked for
McDonalds. Damn secret agent with secret sauce.
D. "Spot the Leper." You need a friend to play this one. Kind of
hard since no-one at Walmart likes anyone else, but YOU can do it.
Walk around and find one of the many people with the worst facial
rashes. Point at them, laugh at them and then kick them. Scream
"Anarchy" soon after.
E. This is my personal favorite. Take a bag of 45kg cat litter.
CAREFUL! Don't over-work those carefully toned keyboard muscles,
Geek-Boy. Now, cut a tiny hole in the end of the cat litter bag.
Slowly drag the bag around the store, everywhere. Lingerie,
Hardware, Automotive, etc. Then go get a broom and make sure a
manager sees you sweeping. Cheerfully whistle. Then proceed to
sweep it under counters, rugs or people. This activity can take
about 30 minutes, if you are lucky.
You thought you were done, eh? No. Nadda. Nyet. Don't put the
broom away just yet! Carefully lay it in a high-traffic area, preferrably by
paints. Watch the hilarious antics as our lovely senior citizens slip and
slide their way to a new wheelchair (which they can purchase on aisle 18)!
F. Page people over the intercom. Very obvious, I probably shouldn't
have mentioned it. Do it repeatedly. Find license plate numbers and
send messages about lights being left on, missing credit cards,
whatever. be BAD.
I guess that pretty much sums it up. Be creative, and you'll be
rewarded with Customer-Service Awards soon.
============================================================================
============================================================================
Walmart's in Canada are fucking weird if you ask me.
============================================================================
============================================================================
So I was driving around my small town the other day and I saw a
bumper sticker that said this:
DRIVE SMART
DRIVE SOBER
So I was like, "Well, pick one, because I can't do both." Actually, I
really don't drink and drive but I just thought that was funny to say.
So I'll shut up now.
Wanna go out with me?
============================================================================
============================================================================
"Alt.Zines.Sex"
as mumbled by TMM
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
A disturbing trend in subject matter in many popular 'zines that are
being released these days: sex. Yes, following the Showtime, HBO, MTV,
Liz Phair and who knows how many other examples, the ridiculously moronic
subject of sex has infiltrated the precious 'zine scene.
Not to be misunderstood, however, this popular movement isn't taking
shape along the lines of pornographic cybersex or phone-sex, the problem is
much worse than that. If it were only that this malady would be easily
explained and even more simply dealt with. I would argue that a trend of
that sort would die out as quickly as it began.
Instead, the "sex" that is being furiously written about in hundreds
of 'zines as I speak is that of the atypical "misunderstood" or "hysterical"
sex. The writers of these articles think of themselves as "deviant" or
"just plain nuts" and of course the way they manifest their
disestablishmentarianism is by writing about how crazy they are and how
their sex life displays this.
An example, taken from issue 21 of a typically angsty and trendy
'zine called Doomed to Obscurity; DTO for short. This is an exerpt from
an article entitled "shiny new car (a generic love story)" by the clearly
misunderstood alternateen "zircus."
he is within my soul. my vagina is a giant stomach,
being fed with every emotion known to the human soul.
he fucks me. much. and my eyes spin with with
insanity of a new acid cartoon, wet with the ink of
madness. i am being fucked to the brink of madness.
and for once, i am truly happy.
Keep in mind, this is but the ending paragraph, I could've bored you
with the entire article or even the entire issue of DTO (because it was,
after all, the "Sex Issue").
So there is a prime example of a ridiculously juvenile person once
again trying to nurture their ego and individualist nature by proving for
the umpteenth time how uniquely different they are from the "norm" or the
"establishment." The way they are different is because they are so damn
sexually deviant that they can't find true sexual satisfaction in anything
that society might deem "normal" or "proper."
The funny thing is that in an effort to become so complex and
sophisticated these stupid fucks just make themselves look like idiots.
Well, I think it's kinda funny.
I hope they keep writing this crap, because I'm so INSANE that I
can't achieve my own sexual nirvana unless they write about it and I can
read it lots of times and thereby live vicariously through some
computer-geek's idea of what deviant sex is all about! Har har har.
Note the sarcasm, crapface.
But that brings up another valid point. What in the hell is some
computer geek doing writing about sex? We all know that angsty computer
"people" such as these spend all their time on IRC or chat boards talking
about how misunderstood they are or reading their gothically dark poetry
online instead of actually having sex in real life.
That's the really pathetic thing about all of this. It just seems so
fake. Instead of spending their worthless time on badly writing about
subversive things that they really don't know anything about or totally
unfunny stuff or just plain bad poetry they are wasting their time on maybe
the one subject they know the least about.
The problem with that is that instead of having their readers read
their bad treatise's on anarchy or bad poetry or horribly unfunny fiction
and thus inspiring them to write BETTER stuff themselves (why do you think
I write for a 'zine, numbskull?) they just write about sex.
The only inspiration I get out of reading articles about sex in these
'zines is to go join a fucking monastary.
But maybe that is their tangled skein of a message! Maybe that is
what they REALLY want me to do!
Too bad my feeble little mind can't keep up with these post-modern,
neo-intellectual teeny-boppers.
I can always hope!
[-----]
TMM's Note: Aha!! I finally used "disestablishmentarianism," the
longest word in the English dictionary, in an article!
Handle now owes me five bucks.
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"Gordon, the Guy Who Says Stupid Shit a Lot"
as told from the second person by Styx
E-mail: dropdead@mindspring.com
PART TWO: Gordon and His New Toy!
It was Gordon's birthday, and he received a bulky present in the mail.
He tore it open with innocent glee and long fingernails.
"Hello!" Gordon exclaimed. "What's this?"
Gordon read the instructions and followed them to the number. He
inserted the batteries, turned the switch on (to his surprise, it shook very
fast!), and shoved it up his tight, white asshole. This caused Gordon to
involuntarily piss, vomit, and fart, all at the same time.
"That's curious!" exclaimed Gordon, and watched some TV.
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"Old People Smell Bad and They Piss Me Off"
as griped in "old codger-like" fashion by Mercuri
E-Mail: jwapienn@pla-net.net
I just got back from the grocery store. I went to go pick up a case
of Coca-Cola. Simple enough, eh? It's about 10:00PM central standard and
damnit, there shouldn't be any crowds, it should be an in and out thing.
So I grab the Coca-Cola & buy a $2.00 Poppy from a Veteran (God bless
them one and all) and I go to the EXPRESS LANE (remember that, you will see
this material again). I sit the Coca-Cola down, pick up a pack of Juicy
Fruit, set it down and put a plastic divider between me and the Ancient One
in front of me.
First of all, what pisses me off is that she's got her purse lying on
top of my case of pop. I told myself "It's okay," and let it be. What
could I say? "Hey, Dr. Ruth, get your damn satchel off my Coca-Cola!" No, I
show a little respect.
So she's got all her Mueslix and Oat Bran and potato chips laid out
there on the counter but wait, she's gotta get out her "Preferred Customer"
card for those individuals 85 and older. That took up a good solid minute.
Keep in mind this is the EXPRESS LANE.
So the cashier starts TALKING TO HER. Not idle chit-chat while she
checks her stuff out, mind you, she stops EVERYTHING that she's doing and
talks to her. ARGH!
So me and the guy behind me are really starting to get pissed off,
there is a line behind us starting to form. So I put on my "No Bullshit"
look and cross my arms.
Which failed. She never once looked in my direction.
The Ancient One also has to find exactly 84 cents so she doesn't have
to get any change back.
The cashier yells over to Customer Service that she needs two rolls
of quarters and a wad of singles, which I don't understand because meanwhile
the old lady is counting out a dime, two nickels and sixty-four pennies.
Instead, she ignores my existance while she waits for this invaluable change
to be delivered to her.
Then she has the old lady wait until someone can escort her to her
car (this is after the old lady said she didn't want or need any help). The
cashier yells to Customer Service about it.
"Well, John is on break and Steve is collecting carts outside. Phil
is probably just lost somewhere."
Whilst she said this someone behind the cashier came up to her and
had a question about some cereal on her shopping list. EXPRESS LANE, REFER
HER TO CUSTOMER SERVICE YOU PUTZ.
I waited in line for 8 fucking minutes because of this cashier. It's
at times like that that I really wish it were legal for me to carry a
concealed weapon.
[-----]
TMM'S Note: What the fuck is a "Poppy?!"
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"Die Fratboy, Die!"
as earnestly spun by Haji
E-Mail: mmoney19@mail.idt.net
Isn't Faces of Death cool?
I was watching Part IV yesterday and I thought it was neat.
There was this Fratboy who decided to bungee-jump off of a building,
only they bought a rope ten feet too long because they erroneously figured
a thirteenth story into the height of the building (most buildings do not
contain thirteenth stories, and if they do the story is required to be
between one and three feet tall). It was hilarious!
Anyways, all of these Sorority Sluts were cheering him on, and he
yells, "Here I Go!" and you see him falling and hear this hilarious
sickening thud as he hits the ground.
Wow.
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"Current Events"
hosted by Tom Selleck (TMM)
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
So Tim McVeigh is guilty, eh?
I can buy that one, I mean, 12 wholesome citizens came to a consensus
that he was guilty, so even if it wasn't exactly a fair trial (I have no
idea if it was or not, I'm simply leaving myself an out) justice was
probably served.
How could 12 average citizens of America (Oklahoma for crissakes) go
wrong in a situation where intelligence is absolutely key to sound decision-
making & wading through all of the typical lawyer bullshit?
If you've been reading RAD for awhile, you should've already noticed
a couple of things:
1. People are fucking idiots. No matter how smart they try to be
they always screw stuff up and look stupid. Read the past 15 issues
for plenty of proof of this.
2. Even the people that think they are smarter than the "average
dumb-folk" and write about how stupid everyone else is (YES, I'm
talking about us RAD writers) are actually idiots themselves. We are
just "above average" idiots who actually notice this stuff.
Which means that there is no way to determine if he is 100% guilty
or not because you're an imbecile, I'm an imbecile, and damnit so are the
lawyers, judges and jurors on that case. So that leaves us to trust 12
completely random Jimmy-Cracks with one man's life.
So now it's time for the sentencing. The honorable U.S. District
Judge Richard Matsch wants to be careful to avoid so-called "lynchings" in
the sentencing and has banned personal or "inflammatory" emotional testimony
by witnesses so that they wouldn't "ignite" the jurors before sentencing.
Um, isn't that what witnesses are for? How many self-respecting
attorneys WOULDN'T use a witness that would *gasp* "ignite" the jury onto
your side?
If he's guilty, let all of the personal testimony be heard and let
the JURY decide how he's punished, not the high-priced lawyers or the
stinking judge who is probably taking money from both the defense and the
prosecution.
After killing God-knows-how-many people in a bomb that destroyed an
entire federal building, a "lynching" is a very small price to pay. I say
blow the fucker up, but I guess that's not "humane."
Eye for an eye, baby.
[-----]
In other news, according to CNN peace talks are once again resuming
in Northern Ireland.
Is anyone else noticing a trend?
How many peace talks are there gonna be?
Right here, right now I'll make a CONSERVATIVE prediction as to what
is going to happen to these "peace talks," after a week or less. I would
wager my entire estate (this computer) that some plush Irish pub or other
meaningless structure choc-full of "innocents" will explode and the chaos
will ensue once again.
Call me psychic but I tell it as I see it.
[-----]
In France they just had their supposed (that's suh-pose-ED, moron)
democratic elections and the current prime minister Alain Juppe resigned
after a horrible defeat by Lionel Jospin's ultra-left-wing Socialist party.
Which of course means that France will now be ruled by a Socialist
who is most likely just a puppet under the thumb of the red-clad Socialist
party.
And you wonder why Clinton is trying to expand NATO once again.
Watch out, brothers, the reds are rising once again.
A Note to all you idiots: NATO is the "North American Treaty
Organization" created during the cold war by the holier than thou art
western nations to prevent the spread of communism past the eastern-European
bloc countries. Clinton is trying to expand it closer to Russia and the
Russians don't want it.
Get off IRC and pick up a newspaper and find out what is actually
happening in the world.
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Well, so far we have seen the follow natural disaster movies.
* Twister
* Earthquake
* Volcano
* Asteroid
Coming soon to a theater near you...
* Typhoon
* Hurrican
* Rain
* Mud-slide
* Blizzard
* Flood
* Smoothie
* Vomit
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Scratch that last sentence in "Current Events," I now realize how dangerous
the outside world really is. I'd rather stay here in my chair & not perform
heroic deeds & make love to beautiful people like in those movies.
I'm fragile!
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"O Canada!"
as patriotically sung by Intrepid
E-Mail: intr3pid@hotmail.com
Ahem. As a Canadian I am told by teachers, politicians, and friends
to be proud to live in a country where "we have the strongest standard of
living in the world."
You know what? Who cares?! Canada as a whole is just a metaphor for
an arctic frozen hell. In my city, Winnipeg, we spend our 12-day summer
battling hordes of mosquitoes the size of small cats. We don't have a fall,
or a spring. Winter is long and harsh and consists mainly of snow drifts,
cruel winds and frozen testicles. Basically, we offer it all.
Look at our sports teams. We are supposed to be THE hockey country.
we've even adopted it as our second national sport. Now we're losing all of
our teams to fat American Capitalist Pigs! We don't have the money, whine
whine whine. We can't have an NBA team because the cold stunts growth. At
least that's the excuse they give us "common-folk."
We have no good food here. All of those sugar-laced cereals enjoyed
by the common-folk in the good old U.S. are reserved for the upper-crust
here. Us Proletariats have to exist on a strict diet of Polar Bear meat and
seal fat.
Another thing, Canada has virtually no patriotic spirit. If you went
to the U.S. and said, "The U.S.A. sucks!" you'd be beaten and arrested.
That's a good thing. It's wrong to complain about the government. Here,
people will agree with you. They'll give you things, like our worthless
money. Our second biggest province population-wise, wants to leave.
Hell, I'd like to leave. With a national anthem like this I don't
understand how you could possibly expect people to feel any patriotism
whatsoever.
O Canada! Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide, O Canada,
We stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
Mercuri is gay! He enjoys bumsex!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
It's just too cold right now for me to leave. I'll have to wait
until later this summer for the ice to melt and the one ship that comes to
our small hamlet every year to show up to be able to get off this frozen
tundra.
"I keep trying to get out, but [it] keeps pulling me back in!"
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I often think of suicide when I write for RAD. Not because I hate
myself or my life or anything like that.
Basically I just hate you.
Keep reading, moron.
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"Liz Taylor As A Living Example"
Shutup. No witty line here. by TMM
E-Mail: chris41@juno.com
Is it me or do good looking women make ugly old women? Every old
crony movie star who used to bask in the warmth of beauty has turned into
Medusa herself despite the costly benefits of silicon, liposuction and any
other expensive beautification process.
It seems that women just reach a certain threshold and once past it
turn into disgusting old hags, the only difference between them being the
manner in which their ugliness manifests itself. Some are fat, some lose
all their hair, some wrinkle so badly they look worse than most sea lions,
some decide to combine any permutation of the above.
I guess the point I'm making is that despite how perky their
cheerleader breasts are now or how lithe and tan their lifeguard legs are
now while we're all young, they are all going to end up ugly.
Why bother with the effort now? I've often found myself taking a more
attractive woman to a better restaraunt or on a more creative date than just
"dinner and a movie" and I notice one key thing about all of the really
attractive women I take out: I spend way more money on them.
Why?!
It isn't like they are better than the less attractive women, they
just appeal to the primordial physical demands much more than an ugly girl.
This behavior (mine and everyone else's similar behavior to these "beauties")
has set an unfortunate precedent that we all have to meet nowadays to "make
the cut" with good looking girls. We have to spoil them rotten.
Fuck that!
We all know they're going to end up just as ugly as anyone else later
in life, why do they deserve more now?
[-----]
MORAL: Date younger women when you're older. We get older, they
stay the same age.
Damn, I can't believe I just quoted Dazed and Confused.
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Just in case any women that I care about are reading this right now, I didn't
REALLY mean that!! I was just trying to be cool!
Come on baby, one more chance!
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"Gordon, the Guy Who Says Stupid Shit a Lot"
as told from the third person omniscient by Styx
E-mail: dropdead@mindspring.com
PART THREE: Gordon at War!
Gordon stumbled his way through the thick underbrush to the sounds of
gunfire, dying shouts, and the ominous high-pitched shriek of missiles in
flight. Clicking his tongue, Gordon saw something glint out of the corner
of his eye and gaily skipped over to inspect it.
"Hello!" exclaimed Gordon. "What's this?"
Gordon bent down to one knee to look at the object more closely. It
was a shiny, spherical, metallic drum, Gordon decided, and he proceeded to
play a U2 song on it. Upon contact with his hand, the mine exploded into a
hundred thousand tiny shards, imbedding Gordon with shrapnel in every
square-inch of his body, rendering him blind, impotent, and bloody.
"That's curious!" gurgled Gordon, and convulsed to death.
* Note: So ends the epic tale of our magnificent young protagonist! Will
we see Gordon ever again or will his saga end with three stories?
Only YOU can decide his fate!! E-Mail Styx with praise and ideas
and try to convince him to tell us more! Now it's up to YOU!
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Whoo. What a mediocre issue, eh?! This is what happens when computer
geeks find things to do; we dissappoint other computer geeks by being
sub-par.
Just remember one thing, for the LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, please do
not, ever, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, move to Kikapoo.
Thank you and good night.
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Are YOU ready to spread the message? Do you think YOU'RE worthy enough to
give RAD to EVERYONE YOU know? I think YOU are, in fact, I *know* YOU are,
& I love YOU for it!
So let this be YOUR Great Commission! Spread the word across the land!
Print the enclosed flyer and throw copies everywhere! Do it now! It isn't
just YOUR salvation that is at stake here, it is the salvation of each &
every unenlightened individual that hasn't heard the Good News of RAD.
So are YOU ready now? I think YOU are.
Stomachs in, chests out! On your mark, get set, GO!!!
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Radioactive Aardvark Dung E-Zine :: ISSN 1092-5449
Issue #16 % Released May 30, 1997
RAD E-Zine :: PO Box 584 :: Crown Point, IN :: 46307
Get Past & Future Issues From :: ftp://ftp.openix.com/ftp/phorce/rad/
WWW Site :: http://www.pla-net.net/corp/zineworld/rad/
Send Us Your Comments & Submissions! :: jwapienn@pla-net.net
For Special Updates % type "subscribe rad" In Message Body
ATTN SysOps :: Be Sure To Read DISTRO.APP
Without Prejudice and Explicit Reservation of All My Rights, UCC 1-207
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