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-------(vagina)----------------------------------------------------------------

y0lk 108: Everything you ever wanted to know about tripe, but then decided

          you'd rather not know.

-------(y0lk?!)----------------------------------------------------------------



        Well, this y0lk is my first.  Fuck you.  Ok, now that I'm in the y0lk

spirit, I have a confession to make.  For the most part, with few exceptions,

I never got past y0lk #18.  That's right.  Never read them.  Staring at a

screen that long hurts my eyes.  I read the ones past number one hundred,

and a few between, but none others.  In fact, I got the neat-o header by

block loading y0lk number 54, chosen at random, and writing this below it.

        Fuck you, hypocrite!

        So here I am writing a y0lk, which is bound to resemble an early y0lk,

because those are the only ones which I am sure to have read.



-------(This blank space represents the darkness of my soul.)------------------









































































(yep, my soul is pretty dark)











































                         (boy, that's some darkness)















































(man, its dark in here)

















































                                                                    (whew)

-------(Connect the Dots!#&$)---------------------------------------------------

        Well, actually, that long, dark space didn't represent the darkness

of my soul, but rather my need to fill up space due to a creative block.

Alright, now that all of you know who I am, what I believe in, and everything

else about me, we can take a fun break to play some games!





Connect the dots (crayon recommended):

                                �                     �

            .                                   �



                          .

      .                              .                        �

                 �        .    .         �         .

                      .    .�   ��      .�                           .

      .      � �             .  � �    �            .

                                �   �.            .         �                �

         �   �            �                    .          �

�      ..                      �       .                                    .�

  .                       �        �                       ��

   .               �   �                       .                               .                                   .        .                         �

           �    .  .      .  .   �      �

           �     .                      .                         .





Chess and Checkers!  �������������������������������Ŀ

Play by yourself     �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

or with your         �������������������������������Ĵ

imaginary friend     �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

blinky!              �������������������������������Ĵ

Use the handy game   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

board because I spent�������������������������������Ĵ  You better lean to

lots of time drawing �   �   �   �   .   �   �   �   �  enjoy yourself!  Play

it!                  ���������������� ���� -��������Ĵ  chess if you're man

                     �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �  enough!

Hours of             �������������-��� -������������Ĵ

edu-tationalistic    �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

fun!  Just ask       �������������������������������Ĵ

Vladimir Nabokov@!   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

                     �������������������������������Ĵ

                     �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �   �

                     ���������������������������������



-------(Story time, oh Boy!!)---------------------------------------------------

        And now, a story inspired by that very chess board.



        Jimmy sat in his refrigerator box eagerly studying his history

homework.  It was a rainy day- slightly cold with a nippy wind, the kind of

day that makes anyone glad to have a nice refrigerator box over their heads.

        Jimmy had been wondering about what it was like before the

Milwaukean Liberation- (known to the rest of the world as the second American

civil war) before true freedom had reached his country.

        He was born during the reconstruction, and barely remembered his

parents' cheering for John Necker, the truest of American heroes.  He was the

man who restored dignity after the devastation that the revolution brought.

He promised new schools, good pensions, which he delivered, but most

importantly, he ensured that everyone, in this new era of peace, would have

a cardboard box.

        In school and on the news, Jimmy had learned of other countries,

countries which were horrible dictatorships where people didn't get to choose

their boxes.  The government issued them.  If your box didn't fit, if it were

somewhere you didn't want to be, Jimmy had learned, you couldn't trade

with anybody else, unelss you wanted to be a criminal, hunted down by the

secret police.

        Freedom.  Yes, Jimmy had decided, it is freedom that makes this land

different.  The freedom to choose the box in which you live.  The freedom

to arrange it, to fold it, to unfold it.  It's location could be changed

with the short filing of a few government papers, but those were mere

formalities.

        Jimmy looked at the black lettering on his box, slowly, but surely

making out the words:

        "re- re-frigerator?  What the fuck is that?"  Jimmy promptly took

his government-issued shotgun, and began to carress its shiny, black,

metallic chamber. Even the serial number, 2348T-SV38-25NST added a tingling

bit of sensuality to the instrument.  He raised to the sky and fired once-

people heard it for miles.  Jimmy first felt real power.  He looked forward

turned, and after giving the barrel a sweet kiss, shot all of his neighbors

through each of their neighboring cardboard boxes.

        Yes, Jimmy was proud to be an American.



-------(A Poem!)----------------------------------------------------------------

        The following poem is based on a true story about me, and a friend

who, because we've neither really liked nor respected each other very much did

absolutely anything to pass time when we realized that the other people who

she wanted me to have over couldn't come.



<ahem>



The Coconut: the misadventures of Josh and Hetty (an epic)







Humidity hung like a coconut upon a tree

tho' the cool insides of the Mark�d Path

promised a safe journey into the

tropical paradise they sought;

but all was for naught:

the coconut was rot.

"Alas!" crieth they and "Alack!"

as they didst hack

for from the coconut's crack

was revealeth a milkey stench.



Unbeknownst to the bearers of fruit,

there was nothing to loot:







Sadly, their objective was moot.





Unfortunately, I cannot take all of the credit.  We cowrote it.



-------(Wow, Josh.  This issue sucks!)------------------------------------------



        Well, fuck you and your minions.  I never say anything interesting

        anyway.  

        Now solve my riddle (which I can take all of the credit for).



        An intractible mind is what I require

        for my stubborn riddle and its rejoinder.

        Adamant am I, callous and unforgiving

        as the rulers who once kept empires living.

        In my quandary, think of: fox, wolf, and lion-

        which one have these three in common?

        Then consider bear, bird and boar

        whence already given are two more.

        The other five will dance with u.

        Thus I have given my final clue.

        The start of your answer was already given,

        your intellect now, need by itself be driven.

        To obtain my solution, what must one have in him?