💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › HOE › hoe-0399.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 12:28:54.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #399 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Intentional HOE Rejects" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> The HOE Staff !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/4/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Most writing that's produced by anyone sucks. Most of the time,
it's by accident. This time, it's not. In the true spirit of HOE, many
staff members were asked to write the most terrible (or at least the
stupidest) text file they could. Some of it will be parody, some of it
will pointless, but all of it will be bad. The staff members that did
manage write for this issue are (in order of appearance):
Quarex, Tasha, Paganini, Caitlin, Avenger, Cyn, Isaac, Squinky,
Art, AnonGirl, Anjee, AltRocks, Daisy, Mutter, The Jester,
Kreid, LilNilHil, Meenk, Styx, Teerts, Mogel, Neko, Darwin,
Nybar, Swiss Pope, Phairgirl, and Trilobyte.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "MY CAT IS AWESOME"
-> by Quarex
My cat is SO WEIRD! Okay, you know how most cats are not weird,
right? Well mine IS weird. He is SO TOTALLY CRAZY. When we got him
we thought he was a SHE hehe so we named HIM/HER "Buttercup." He was
responding to our abbreviation of "B.C." by the time we picked him up
and took him to the vet to get checked out. Well, as luck would have
it, the vet told us she was a HE! WEIRD! So, we thought, naturally,
Buttercup is a pretty fucking sissy name for a guy cat, so we changed
it to "Peanut Butter-Cup," or P.B.C. for short, but he still just
responded to B.C.
You think that is weird enough, you should hear what we did a few
years ago! I was getting to that age where I realized that I was really
smart, so I decided to give my cat a super-awesome new name. I was with
Ryuu, and we got out a dictionary, and decided to pick out a new name by
picking two random words from "B" and "C." So, I picked it up, and the
two words I got - honest to Odin! - were "Baseplate" and "Cavalcade."
And thus, my cat's name became Baseplate Cavalcade.
And if you think that is not weird enough, there are a lot of
weird things he does, too. When he was younger, this guy named Roy used
to come hang out with me. He took my cat and tossed him in the air one
time, while he was sick, and so he landed on his back. Ever since then,
my cat acted kinda weird. Roy is in jail now, for attempted murder.
He never really liked me much.
So my cat acts weird. He is terrified of people walking around,
if they are loud. That is probably because he always used to sit in the
kitchen and watch my mom make food, but then my mom would always step
backwards by accident, onto his tail. He would scream, which was always
really sad to hear, and then run off and be asd for a long time.
Also, he knows how to grab doorknobs and turn them to open doors
sometimes. He does not always do it, but he has done it a lot before.
He also only drinks out of faucets, so we have to turn them on for him.
The very best thing about my cat is that he understands English. I
know he does, he just cannot speak it, because his poor little vocal
cords cannot support english.lib.
I guess I am out of weird things that my cat does. But I love him.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Dis Shit Is Mad Deep, Yo"
-> by Tasha
GaWd EeS a GeWd ThAnG. jEsUs EeS mUh LoRd aNd SaViOr. WhEn YeW
aRe In TrUbBlE, aSk YeRsElF, "wHuT wOuLd JeSuS dEw?!?!" ThIs WiLl HeLp
YeW gEt ThRu YeR dAy. ChUrCh iS hElD oN SuNdAYs, Or HoLiDaYs, AnD I
aLwAyS gO tO ChUrCH. It HeLpS Me GeT ThrU mY DaY. aT cHurCh, I lEaRn
tO aCcEpT JeSuS iNtO mY wiDDlE hEaRT. I aLSo GeT GroPEd bY tHE PastOr,
aNd The OthEr JeSuS WorShiPoRz! It GivEs ME MaNY oRgasmS, whIch Also
HelP mE gEt ThRU my Day.
ThAt Is AlL! plam zami poom dink spoo bork tarr fooz!
!!========================================================================!!
-> "I'm Full of Love"
-> by Paganini
There are a lot of women that I don't like. I do not like
Natalie Merchant. She sways her hips too much. I do not like Alanis
Morissette, for obvious reasons. I do not like that blonde woman from
the movie _An Officer And A Gentlemen_, especially when she is in the
factory and she yells "you go Paula," as Richard Gear carries Debra
Winger out of the paper factory and onto her new life. She's just a
tramp. I mean, just look at the way she made the other guy (I think
his name is Sid) kill himself. He swallowed a ring at the hotel. I
also do not like Deanna Troy from Star Trek. Call me crazy, but she
just bothers me. I don't like Kate Winslet (and also dislike her
cohort, Leonardo Dicaprio--make him go away).
I do not like any woman who was popular during the eighties and
ceases to be popular now--excluding Annie Lenox, whom I can stand, but
still dislike a little. I can't stand Kathy Lee Gifford, and perhaps
that is only because she has made herself to be the only middle aged
cheerleader on television. Who names their son Cody anyway? I would
name a horse Cody, or I would name a rugged looking man Cody, but I
would not name my son Cody. Incidentally, I like Jack Palance. I have
a feeling that I would not like Helen of Troy, if she actually existed,
and I knew her. I met some girls at Marshall Fields yesterday. They
were complaining about how all the small sizes of clothing were too big
for them, and their anorexically abused bodies. Yeah, I don't like them
either. I don't like Tori Spelling. I don't like Shannon Dohorty. I do
like Phil Collins because he reminds me of this nice neighbor that I
used to have that ate Grahame crackers atop his porch with his wife,
Toni, who later became a model. I don't like her. Some girl once sent
my ex-boyfriend a naked picture of herself. I didn't like her then but
I can stand her now. I don't like any of the female newscasters on the
local networks here. They are all twitchy and they move their heads too
much. I like Tom Brokaw.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "The Day I Shot The President"
-> by Caitlin
"You fuckin' cracker, get the hell away from me," I said to the
girl with the blue eyes, and the long barbie doll, blonde hair.
"Like, whatever!" she yelled back at me, tossing her hair over
her shoulder, and making the most awful sneer she could possibly contort
her face into.
!!=======!!
I hate white people, yessiry, I do. They smell like shit, and
they have funny noses, and funny teeth, and thin, ugly lips, and fat
heads. Their women have flat butts, and small breasts, and their men
stand like they gotta fat cucumber lodged in their asshole.
Even though my momma was white, it don't matter none, cuz she
didn't smell, her nose wasn't pointy, she had some full lips, and her
head wudn't fat.
I started hatin' white people about the time my momma passed on..
yeah.. she been in heaven for 'bout 5 years or so.. I was 8 years old..
and I was playin' on the playground with my best frien' Judy (she was
white) and this group of boys came up to us and told us to folla them
behind this big tree that was out there. They held Judy back first and
started pullin' my hair and callin' me all sorsa bad things... like
"stupid nigga" an' "slave girl" an' "dirt" an' all sorsa stuff that I
only seen in movies..
They let Judy go... and she just ran away hid on one of the
playground contraptions.. then the boys took turns puttin' their dicks
in my mouth... I felt dirty and ashamed... but anyway, this where my
story beginning... the day I shot the president, and then had a lesbian
orgy with his wife and the Vice President's wife.
*** beginning
Marchin' along the road I mettan old gypsy woman who had fat
breasts and a large penis sticking through her open fly. I took out my
shotgun and punched her in her fat fucking face. Then this tree started
talking to me and i sawed it in half, then I slit my wrists and died.
It sucked. Yupp. mmmm hmm.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "See"
-> by Avenger
hee! this a poem I wrote when I was wasted off my mind!
here goes!
See.
I am tired.
Oh Shit.
Shit is bad.
I should take a shit.
Ahh. Shit.
Mr. Shit the Christmas Shit.
Shitty old Mogel said that once.
See.
I am worthless.
Man, this sucks.
That one ho sucks, too.
Sucks my schlong.
Ahh. Schlong.
Watergate has nothing to do with my schlong.
Schlong-ass Richard Nixon said that once.
See.
I vomit.
It is green-yellow vomit.
Bad, mistreated grass is green-yellow.
I should be green-yellow. That would be elite.
Ahh. Elite.
3y3 4m 31337!
Some Elite-ass hacker said that once.
See.
I broke my pencil.
This is bad.
I will stop writing now.
Writing with a broken pencil is hard.
hee! Now didn't you enjoy that?
!!========================================================================!!
-> "How To Make a Cake in College"
-> by Cyn
You will need:
Several friends, at least one friend with flex dollars, and at
least one friend in a co-op. Something to procrastinate and/or
boredom and/or someone's birthday. A rilly disgusting dorm kitchen.
1) Get aforementioned friends together.
2) Discuss how you are procrastinating/bored/it's someone's birthday.
3) Decide to make a cake.
4) Everyone should go to the Decafe.
5) Who ever has flex dollars should buy cake mix, frosting, and at
least one of the following: Cheez-its, coffee, a bagel, popcorn,
cookies, chocolate chips, candy, gum, ice cream, bread.
6) You should all walk back to your dorm.
7) On the way back to the dorms, discover the cake mix requires eggs.
8) Everyone should go to your friend's co-op to steal eggs.
9) Everyone should return to the dorm, and go back to the kitchen.
10) Discuss how disgusting the kitchen is.
11) Discover that someone has stolen both your cake pan and your
vegetable oil.
12) Curse them loudly and creatively.
13) Run around asking people if they have a cake pan until you find one
you can borrow.
14) Find a spoon and a cup.
15) Arbitrarily declare the spoon and cup to be roughly half a
tablespoon and a cup and a half. Or other random measurements, it
doesn't rilly matter.
16) Decide you can borrow vegetable oil from someone who left theirs in
the kitchen, since someone apparently borrowed your entire bottle of
vegetable oil.
17) Ponder what they were doing that required an entire bottle of
vegetable oil.
18) Mix all the ingredients together, pretending to use the measurements
on the box.
19) Pour half the mix into the cake pan.
20) Put cake pan in oven.
21) Find some activity to do in the kitchen while waiting for the cake
to bake. Suggestions: Reading, writing letters, knitting, making
and drinking tea, ridiculing people who aren't there.
22) Take cake out of oven.
23) Check to make sure cake is done.
24) Put cake back in oven.
25) Repeat.
26) Put cake in freezer to cool off so you can frost it.
27) Put other half of mix in cake pan.
28) Put cake pan in oven..
29) Pull cake out of freezer.
29) Frost top of cake.
30) Ignore the fact that the frosting is melting.
31) Repeat steps 22-26 with other half of cake.
32) Put other half on cake on top of cake and melting frosting.
33) Frost the entire mess. Try to put on enough frosting to hide flaws
in the cake (bumps, lumps and cracks)
34) Discuss how this is the best cake ever.
35) Wander around giving people cake. Assure them that it's better than
it looks.
36) Continually discuss the cake for at least a week afterward. Tell
people what a great cake it was, and how they missed out.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Isaac's Bad File"
-> by Isaac
boom, I am going to show you SOMETHING, read carefully or you
might not understand me in my infinate wisdom.
"whatever, blah, huh huh"
No, I am not going to sit here and act like I am smart. I HATE
STUPID PEOPLE... WAAHHHH
"hey joe, you got my.... "
Heh, you know... I am really funny and good and blah NEVERMIND
FUCK YOU I HATE YOU!!
"hoooowwwdddyyy-hhooooo kids"
I love not to think before I write something. Dont you timmy..
billy.. whatever your name is...
"yes"
Luckily, lunch went smoothly today. Although Erin did remark to
me for eating salad. She said, "You're eating a FRIDAY salad?" (by
Friday they're usually pure brown.) I said, "Hey, it's better than
the rest of the stuff up there." She said, "Would you rather die after
eating something healthy or would you rather die after eating something
good?" I just said, "This is the only good thing up there. The rest is
gross school food." Why the hell should she care what I eat? And she
made absolutely no point. If I had been eating half a cake and a bucket
of lard, I could see why she would criticize me (even though it would
STILL be none of her business).
uh, *BZZZZT*... YAY!#%$
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Fucking Ignorant Niggers Attacking White Society and
-> the Ugly Kike Jews Who Control Them With Money and Drugs"
-> by Squinky
Lee Harvey Oswald? Huh? That's what they'd fucking want you to
believe, those fucking kike media elites, they'd want you to believe
that a lone gunman, a single marine with a bolt action rifle managed to
get off three shots in 2.6 seconds, scoring a kill on one target and
seriously wounding another? Yes, they want you to believe, those
fucking money grubbing assholes, those fucking kikes, they want you to
believe that one single bullet, the so-called MAGIC BULLET ricocheted
through the body of JFK and then Governor of Texas over and over again,
causing 7 wounds. They want you to believe that some small fries little
shit would be communist acting alone went up into the book depository
and deposited himself clearly in the annals of history.
Well, fuck that. I'm not a fucking tool like Fletcher Prouty or
Jim Garrison or Oliver Stone, so I won't give you no fucking stupid
conspiracy theories. I won't tell you it was the CIA or LBJ or any of
them, no, I won't. I'll tell you who really killed JFK.
the fucking niggers.
Yeah. the fucking niggesr jigaboo mother fuckers with their
fucking huge lips and afros and white teeth and spear chucking. yeah,
fuckin' niggers, man, fucking ignorant fucking savages straight from
the jungles singing their OOGABOOGA.
You know what fucking Chief Justice Warren suppressed from
enterting the files of his hearing? The testimony of hundreds of
witnesses claiming that a horde of armed niggers could be seen
everywhere and they all opened fire up on JFK, ripping his honkey head
open, and then they fucking advanced on Jackie Kennedy and they fucking
gang banged the shit out of that fucking little slut. Yeah, they
stained her fucking pink dress red with blood and white with their
nigger cum. I bet they got all hot thinking about that fuckin bitch
covered in their fucking nigger spooge fucking jigaboo little sperm
swimming down her alimentary canal and being shit out her fucking ass.
yeah, except Jackie O wasn't going to do no shitting, ah ha ha, no, not
voluntarily, because they stuck a bunch of spade cocks up that shit.
yeah... sad eyed lady of the blowlands.. ahhah aha. fucking shit.
Well, who put the fucking savbages up to it? We all know niggers
can't fucking think. We all know they ain't got a fucking brain in their
heads, right fellas, so who the fuck put those fuckers up to that shit?
The fucking Kikes. Fucking long island harmonica style fucking
crimped hair whores screaming out orders at the nigger alliance, fucking
telling those fucking niggers to go kill the president. So they did,
following orders like the fucking obidient dogs they were. Like to train
me a bunch of white dogs if I could, he he he, but I can't, all Ic an do
is tell the truth about the fucking jews and fucking niggers.
You know what else the jews did? they fucking made LBJ resign.
In 1968, there was a secret meeting of hte democrats between LBJ, RFK,
Goldwater, and three jews known as XYZ. And they fucking said, they
said it right out, "LBJ, WE ARE AGAINST THE VIETNAM WAR."
Now, before you start applauding their oh-so-fashionable protest
of the oh-so-unjust war, let me tell you something. LBJ was one of the
best presidents we had. He saw the nigger problem and he saw the gook
problem and he said, "LET THOSE FUCKING BASTARDS KILL EACH OTHER TO
DEATH." He was trying for racial purity. and the fucking jews saw that
LBJ was killing off their tools, burning them with napalm and ripping
them to shreds with AKs, and they said in the secret meeting of the
democracts, they fuckign said, "IF LBJ CONTINUES TO RUN, WE WILL STOP
FUNDING THE DEMOCRATS", so what the fuck do you know, the next day LBJ
is announcing he won't seek reelection. So the nigger population is
back up, like their overly ripe nigger cocks, wanting to marry white
girls, wanting to marry my daughters.
Oh yeah, those jews got their hands in everything. EVER-Y-THING.
You think they were all burning and dying in world war II? Fuck no.
World War II was the Jewish population In America getting the government
to go protect their vacation resorts, A.K.A., the DEATH CAMPS. The
fucking Nazis they knew that the jews oculdn't fucking use the vacation
resorts anymore, because they weren't parying taxes on them, so they
started to invade. And of course, what do the fucking european jews do?
They call across the ocean to their kike brothers and say, "Get ol'
Hymie FDR Rosenthal to fucking invade! We need our fucking vacation
resorts back! WE can't stand for this sort of resistance to our Z.O.G.
(Zionist Occupational Government)." So the jews go and pay fucking
Hirohito sixteen million dollars to bomb pearl harbor, giving Toho plans
and military routines, just to make sure all the carriers are there, and
then BOOM, america is in Europe, liberating the fucking CLub Med of Zion.
Those fucking arrognat jew assholes.
It's all bad. Anything, man, look at anything, it's all cuzza
the jews. ANything. This shit with Iraq, what's that about? It's about
Israel, the fucking JEWS TAX FREE COUNTRY SUCKING MONEY FROM AMERICA AND
ALL THE REST OF THE JEWNITED NATIONS wanted to keep down the
Palestinians. Fucking endless shit, becauise of those fucking jews.
I don't got much more to say, except kill niggesr and jews.
fucking assholes.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "My Hat From Wales"
-> by Art
do you like my hat?
i like my hat. it's from wales. it's a 100% new wool. it was
woven in welsh. i'm really cool because i have a hat from wales. i'm
even cooler because i wear it backwards because it looks kind of funny
when i put it on the right way. i wear it with an eddie bauer sweater,
not because they match, but because they make me feel cool. yeah. cool.
i'm really cool because i'm odd because when i meet someone i'll say,
"like my hat?" and they'll say, "yes," and i'll say, "it's from wales."
but that's not why i'm cool. i'm cool because my hat's from wales and
every time i see that person they'll think i'm creative and cool and
intellectual because i say, "like my hat?" and they'll go "yeah," and
i'll be like "it was made in wales." HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
so, if you really want to be cool, get a hat from wales. just
don't hope you'll ever be as cool as me, and if i hear that you've been
using my lines like, "like my hat?" "it's from wales," i'll kill you.
yeah. i'm cool.
it's from wales.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Types of Boys to Avoid at All Costs"
-> by AnonGirl
All of them.
ALL.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Stupid, Pointless, and Pretty Damn Retarded"
-> by Anjee
This will be a stupid t-file. Not only will it be stupid, it
will also be pointless. Stupid, Pointless and pretty damn retarded.
All because this is an intentionally bad t-file. I do not know what it
will be about, because I haven't had any brainstorms, not that I get any
very often though. Has it ever happened to you.. where you feel or have
to write, but nothing comes, no ideas suddenly pop into your head? If
so, too bad; I couldn't care less. If not, that's great. Really.
Perhaps I could write about how much my town sucks, because this
is an intentionally bad t-file, so it HAS to suck. Anyhow, my town is
located roughly around 30 minutes from Montreal, Quebec. It is mostly
populated by french stupid-ass retardos. There is also hardly anything
that can be remotely interesting to do around here, that's pretty much
all I can say about my town. But I suppose that doesn't really matter,
seeing this is an intentionally bad t-file.
My creativity can only be stretched so far. I find it extremely
hard to TRY to write something stupid, however when I attempt to write
something that might catch someone's attention, I totally succeed at
looking like a fucking idiot. Anyhoodles, the only thing that will
come out of this intentionally bad t-file is the theory that I'm 'just
a typical dumb girl' will be proved to be nothing else but right! Well,
maybe it is! Maybe it isn't! Who knows? Who cares? I don't.
So, I live in a dump, and I'm a typical dumb girl. That is my
life. That is pretty much all that I can deem worthy (not even!) of
being mentionned in this t-file. There's only so much I can think of
writing for an intentionally bad t-file. This file is (as I stated
earlier): Stupid, pointless, and pretty damn retarded. *VOILA*
!!========================================================================!!
-> "I Wish I Was President"
-> by AltRocks
[18:09] <acquaintance2> fuck mouth
[18:10] <acquaintance1> What's up, ballfuzz..
[18:11] <acquaintance2> i have to clean the bathroom, then take a
shower, then i'll be up
[18:11] <acquaintance1> At 7.
[18:11] <acquaintance1> Not a minute sooner or later.
[18:12] *** acquaintance2 has quit IRC (ircN for mIRC)
Now, that's a normal IRC exchange isn't it? I mean, two guys
call each other derogotory names and make plans. So why did I chose to
write about it? I didn't, you stupid fuck~ This has nothing to do with
the IRC log up there. If you had been paying attention, you'd know that
it was a normal exchange between two people making plans. So, why,
then, am I writing this? Because I must express my dislike of the way
the president it being treated by the congressional judiciary committee.
I mean, the guy got a blow job while he was working. Big deal. You'd
do it, too. Don't lie, you would. Oh my god, you actually have!@#
Wow... what was it like? Tell me!!! Damnit, now I want one, too. Man,
I wish I was president.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "How to Cure Boredom on the Third Day of your Boyfriend
-> Being Gone on Vacation"
-> by Daisy
Yeah, my boyfriend went out of town two days ago for an eight
day vacation to see his family in Moussori. So what do I do while he
is away? Sit, sit, be bored, sit, sit, be bored, and oh did I mention,
sit on my ass even more? well thats what I've been doing! Nothing
absolutely nothing. Oh, I take that back, I went to the mall with my
eleven year old sister yesterday, does that count as pure excitement
or what? No, it was boring, your right! I got to follow her around
and watch her spend her fat wad of Christmas money when I got stuck
with all those damn socks like made of wool that have those little
grippies on the bottom. I got like eight pairs of those damn things,
what the hell am I gonna do with those? (*smacks forehead) oh I forgot
I wanted those instead of money, stupid me (boyfriend always says,
sarcasm comes with the territory). And my most boring day continued.
So we are at the mall and I run into this guy I used to date and I
looked at him and thought, cuz I'm too nice to say it to his face, "you
look awful." He looked trashed and I then though to myself, did he
always look this bad? and what the hell did I ever see in him? well
whatever. so the shopping continued! blah blah blah and so on. my
wonderful (and did I mention boring) day. then I got home and sat some
more and watched hope floats like a billion time with the phone in my
hand waiting for him to call at 11pm like he promised. but did he call,
hells no he didn't call, not until 12:30 am. lucky him I was in the
phone with a friend of mine (and let me tell you that phone conversation
could probably be a whole 'nother t-file). I asked him why so late, oh
time flys when your sitting in a hotel lobby all-day-long. He said he
was just as bored as I was, but I begged to differ. I cried to him
about how much I miss him and how the sweater of his I have is
beginning to not smell like him anymore. but still we talked for an
hour and he says he would call tonight at 11pm. So yet to come is
another day of sitting and being bored, but hey, does that surprise
you? Did, I mention I was having a really boring day?
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Float My Boat"
-> by Mutter
Don't you hate the way kwanza has become WAY too commercialized
in recent years?! Me too. You know what I'm talking about: it's all
about the kwanza bush and the kwanza stories that are on tv year after
year -- we've all forgotten the true meaning of kwanza. That's why I
decided to try the christmas thing this year.
As we all know, Santa breaks into our houses on christmas and
gives us presents... kind of a reverse burglary. True, it's a little
unsettling that a strange fat man would do this to us year after
year... and it's a bit bizarre that we look forward to it but, hey,
whatever floats you boat. Sure, we wake up in the morning to that
bizarre annual sense of being violated -- but, the presents certainly
are a nice compensation.
So, I went to the mall to tell Santa what I wanted (the word on
the street was that he can be found there) but when I went to sit down
on his lap, Santa just looked at me and said "What are you... some
kinda pervert!? Get out of here." So I said, "No, Santa. I just want
to sit on your lap and tell you my deepest desires for christmas."
That's when he maced me. Then mall security threw me out.
Come to think of it, it was kinda odd that Santa wasn't dressed
in his usual red and white garb... he was just in regular street
clothes (I guess it must be a bitch to be recognized when you're that
famous)... and it was weird that he had no beard (he must have shaved
it)... and it was INCREDIBLY weird that he had breasts and looked
remarkably like a woman (but, hey, whatever floats your boat). Anyway,
I hate mall security.
Hey, isn't it a little weird that SANTA is an anagram for
SATAN?!@# Coincidence??? I don't think so.
hah, a commercial for Hope Floats on pay-per-view just came on.
That movie sucks. I think I might order it -- heheh.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Crayola; The History of"
-> by The Jester
there once was a young boy from camelot who smelled a lot like a
purple crayola crayon. he was often taunted for smelling like this
artificial coloring instrument, but he could not be stopped from trying
to reach his goal, which was to get the knights of the cirucular table
to turn pacifist. he was a hippy bastard.
"king arthur, we must not continue killing people! we need to
find non-violent solutions to our problems!" he screamed.
"boy, you sure do smell like purple crayola crayon. who let you
into camelot anyway? but maybe you are right. we sure do chop a lot of
heads off and whatnot," arthur said.
and so it came to pass that the knights went from swords to
plowshares. camelot became a communist utopia and everything went fine,
for about three or four days. and then the ugly ogre children found
out. they smelled like teal crayola crayon.
"arthur kill many brother ogre. must smash head of arthur! must
smash knights of circular table head! blarr!!!!" one of the wiser
ogres belched.
so an army of eight ogres stormed camelot and they squished all
the knights before they could plead to the ogres to lead non-violent
existences, then they squished arthur. he looked funny.
they then found the boy who smelled like purple crayola crayon
and smushed him, too. they thought he smelled funny.
"teal crayon must rule earth, arrrrrg!" was the reasoning of the
wiser ogre.
and the eight ogres eventually achieved world domination.
the end.
moral: don't bath in water with more than .014% sulfide content.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Ashes"
-> by Kreid
As I walked through the desert of my loneliness, tripping,
trudging through sands of my fear, and your fear, fear, the fear of
1000 slaves brought to their knees by masters of dogma and humility...
i came to realize. it was a realization of something... what was it?
what?
granted the sight of a ghost, maybe, a specter of my own lost
self. burned by a thousand fires from a thousand torches, burning with
1000 fires... white flames of morality rising above my soul and burying
what little it leaves behind of me under one million ashes... black,
black, black ashes. i am responsible for all of
this.
who can save me now? no one. but i need no salvation. my ashes
are golden. more golden than the palaces of st. petersburg, even. i am
rich. wealthy from my own ashes. my own
suffering
yes, indeed. i suffer. i suffer not for the world. i am not a
martyr. i suffer for my
s
e
l f.
and i
am
wealthy.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Remember My Face"
-> by LilNilHil
this bum in new york city bummed a smoke off of me a few days
ago. i think he was an indian. don't call me a rascist you asshole.
i'm telling you he's an asshole... i mean indian... because it's
relevent to the story. so he doesn't tell me his name or anything...
but i give him the cigarette because i am kind and sharing... even
though all people are assholes who deserve to ..uh.. something. so then
i give him my lucky cigarette.. it's lucky 'cuz it's the last one... yay!
he gives me a two handed thumbs up and shakes my hand. then he
says that aliens are here and i say 'oh' and then he says that they're
still coming though, and i say 'who?' and he say who do you think? i
say; "i dunno.. the catholics.. the muslims.."
he says "the arabs.. the commies.."
we laugh. it is fun. we look psychotics. but that's ok.
then he says the white man is here to stay.
i say.. "yea.." aren't i talkative? fuck you.
him; "don't you think so?"
i look around and it's 5th avenue... Ttiffany's is 2 stores
down... i nod. then he says it's ok though... cuz jezuz christ is
here. yay for jezuz!#$ after that he smiles some huge indian grin and
points to himself with both hands and says, "you remember my face." i
say ok. he's says happy new year. i like him. but those rich white
men that are here to stay... i don't like them. i like the indians...
cuz they're all like cut off your head and pillage your town and rape
thee virgins cuz fuck you and fuck yer mother cuz you suck and yer white.
hiya!$
we must infiltrate. remember my face.
!!========================================================================!!
[ Editor's note: The following story could've easily been
released as an issue of cDc. ]
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Short People Got No Reason To Live"
-> by Meenk
So, I am sitting here, bleeding, in a pool of my own diarrhea
and urine. Why? Because the fucking cops are outside and keep
assaulting me. Cops have no respect for a black man. They tried just
about everything to get me to come out. Why dont they just come in and
kill me? Because I have a bomb. A big fucking bomb. I made it myself.
They tried tear gas, that is when I told them I had my great big
fucking bomb. Now, all is quiet and I guess I will just sit here and
bleed. They know I must be getting weak, they have kept me in here for
almost a week. I have no food or water, which is why I have been
drinking my urine and was forced to chew off my stubby little fingers.
I already ate the body, I am all that's left. Luckily, I am a midget
and don't need much to sustain myself. If I don't get my demands then
I guess I will be forced to let things go ka-boom.
It all started when I went to the bank to make a deposit. The
teller that helped me was a beautiful blonde, tall, slender, perfect.
I guess she caught me looking at her tits (where else am I supposed to
look? they were right in my face) and called her manager. He asked me
to leave and I guess I lost my senses because I kicked him in the shins
and punched him in the testicles. Of course security guards came and
restrained me, and the teller called the police. The next day, I was in
the newspaper. They mentioned assault and sexual harassment, so I lost
my job as a kindergarten teacher. All because of some stupid bitch.
Some stupid tall blonde bitch.
I decided to retaliate. I found out she had a daughter, 6 years
old. She was about my size. I followed her around for a little while,
plotting my revenge when suddenly the little girl wasn't going to
school anymore, in fact, I didn't see her at all. I noticed some
strange guys hanging around the blonde's house. I figured she had
noticed my stalking, in spite of the care I took, and called the
authorities. I stopped cruising around their neighbourhood.
One day, I was scanning the pages of the local paper and I saw
a story about the little girl. It turned out she was found in a river,
raped and beaten. I laughed, but was upset someone else got to her
first. I went about my usual daily tasks, the idea of unrealized
revenge gnawing at my soul. I knew what I had to do. That bitch would
never be able to forget what happened to her poor little girl. I
wouldn't let her.
I went to the morgue and found the little cunt's body. It was
kinda soft from being tenderized then tossed in a river. She smelled a
lot like I imagined her mother's twat to smell. I shoved it in a sack
and tossed it in my trunk. Being a midget is a lot like being a clown,
you can do a lot of bad things, but don't get held responsible. I
brought her back to my house and laid her out on my bed. She looked a
lot like her mother, aside from the grey, maggot-eaten flesh, milky
eyes, and obvious decay. Oh, and the melon tits. This girl was flat as
can be, though just as arousing without them. She was just my size.
I went into the bathroom and got my giant size petroleum jelly
so I could lube up what would be moist if she was alive. I did her
mouth first, the lubricant's medicinal scent slightly masking the smell
of decay. Out came my RAGING HARD cock. I slipped my ebony rod between
her cold little lips and tried for the back of her throat.
Unfortunately, being an african american, I am EXTREMELY well endowed,
a lot better than most full sized men. My giant cock snapped her jaw.
I was disappointed because her mouth was no longer tight. I started to
soften up, so I decided I would work my desire back up, then make the
little girl a woman.
I kissed her mangled face, along the ligature marks on her neck,
down her prepubescent chest, around the (knife?) wound in her abdomen,
all the way to her bald baby pussy. I kissed it and flicked my tongue
along the folds of flesh, pressing it into her until I reached the
barrier I would soon be breaking. She tasted like the seashore smells,
fishy, salty, cold. Well, that and the syphillitic semen of her rapist.
I slipped one of my stubbly fingers into her, slick with my saliva. She
was so tight. Cold, but tight. I couldn't take it anymore, so I smeared
some jelly on my monster shaft and plunged into her. It was great for a
while, but her eyes just wouldnt stay open. I dig looking into a
chick's eyes while I fuck her.
I went into the bathroom and got my manicure scissors (have to
have nice fingernails) and snipped away her pesky eyelids. Now she was
staring straight at me. I decided to have a go at the wound in her side,
so I lubed it up and plunged in. It wasn't as tight as her little cunt,
but it did create interesting sensations. Her internal organs slipping
around my love muscle. she stared at me, her chin thumping against her
shoulder with each thrust. I had one hole left to plunder, and it
proved to be the tightest of the four. As I ripped open her tiny anal
pucker I got a little carried away and bit her shoulder, a chunk of her
flesh coming off into my mouth. Out of habit I chewed it up and
swallowed it. It tasted like a bit of marinated something or other.
Exotic. I pulled my cock out of her ass, wiped off the shit with my
hand, licked my pudgy fingers clean, and put my pants back on. I went
and got a big knife and chopped off a post-copulation snack.
As I sat, nibbling her tender flesh, I decided I would need
something with which to remember the occasion, and maybe to use to
torture her bitch mother, so I went and got my video camera. I took my
mother's crucafix off the wall and shoved it into the little girl's ass,
fucking her as hard and fast as I could manage. It looked good, but not
video quality. I went outside and stole one of my neighbour's baby
rabbits. The bunny fit into her torn snatch well, and struggled as I
began to sodomize her with the cross. It was great on film.
A few days later, I was sitting on my couch, munching on her
little toes (they are better than Bon Bons), watching my home movie,
when there was a knock on the door. I went to open it, and a few police
officers claimed to want to ask me some questions. I invited them
inside, and covertly locked the door. I invited them into the
livingroom, where they stood stupefied by the dish of toes and the
video on the television. This gave me the perfect chance to grab my
shotgun. I braced myself against a wall and fired on the three men.
They went down in three explosions of blood and brains.
And on my floor they remain. Though I am hungry enough to be
striping my fingers of flesh, I refuse to eat pig. I have to pee again,
and it is going to hurt like a bitch. The dead can still pass diseases.
Fucking whore. I can't live like this. I have to crawl across the room
to get to my bomb. Eeew, brains and skull fragments. Here it is.
*click*
*KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Bingo the Chimpanzee Interviews Robert Smith and Morrissey"
-> by Styx
As I sauntered quietly into their cave, ducking under a torch above
the entryway, I was greeted by a butler. He was surprised to see a
chimpanzee holding a pen and notebook, and even more surprised to see my
rented Honda parked outside. I introduced myself and he started to cry,
so I moved past and found my way to a dim-lit niche in the wall - home
of Robert Smith of The Cure, and Morrissey, ex-member of The Smiths and
now a quite successful solo artiste. They were both surprised to see a
chimpanzee holding a pen and notebook, but I was used to it and
introduced myself.
BINGO; Hello! I am bingo the chimpanzee. Why is your butler
crying?
MORRISSEY; He is unhappy.
ROBERT SMITH; Verily.
BINGO; How come?
ROBERT SMITH; ...
MORRISSEY; Robert tried to eat him.
BINGO; Alright! Well, I have some questions, if you don't mind..
er, why the long faces? Hehe.
MORRISSEY; ...
ROBERT SMITH; ...
BINGO; Okay! Robert, did you enjoy being a member of The Smiths?
ROBERT SMITH; I was never in The Smiths. It's just my last name.
BINGO; Oh. Well, if you were, would you have enjoyed it?
ROBERT SMITH; No.
MORRISSEY; If I were in The Cure, I wouldn't enjoy it.
ROBERT SMITH; Me neither.
MORRISSEY; But you're in The Cure, Robert.
ROBERT SMITH; Yes, I am.
BINGO; Er.. so, Morrissey, you were in The Smiths. Did you enjoy it?
MORRISSEY; No.
BINGO; Who are your biggest influences?
ROBERT SMITH; I have no influences, for I am all alone.
MORRISSEY; Me too.
BINGO; Morrissey, would you explain the meaning of the song "House
of the International Playcakes"?
MORRISSEY; That's not what it's called.
BINGO; Well what's it about?
MORRISSEY; Bleak trees on a Sunday in January.
ROBERT SMITH; Beautiful.
MORRISSEY; I know.
BINGO; Robert, would you tell me the meaning of "It's Better for
Erise?"
ROBERT SMITH; That's not what it's called.
BINGO; Well what's it about?
ROBERT SMITH; Well, one time I was angry at the government...
BINGO; Which government?
ROBERT SMITH; Uh. I don't know. Anyway, I was angry at it and I
started to whimper softly, and that's when it came
to me.
BINGO; What came to you? The lyrics?
ROBERT SMITH; ...
MORRISSEY; Beautiful.
ROBERT SMITH; I know.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Elite Mulch"
-> by Teerts
i dont like the smell of mulch.
having to shovel it once a month
sure does suck. it smells like
sour poo, and whenever i touch
it, i vomit all over the plants.
man, even when youre 'leet you
dont get away from these chores.
i even tried telling my mom...
i was like 'mom, i cant do this,
im elite! im elite mom, why doesnt
johnny do it? he's the lemur!@'
so then she smacked me and threw
me into the big mulch pile. i
threw up all over. but i'm still
more ereet than you.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "hehehe Consumer Report's Review On Illegal Drugs hehehehehehe"
-> by Mogel
Marijuana --> hehe everybody knows about the wacky weed!! hehehe dis
drug is good and it will fuck you up!!! ehehe the pros?
it will fuck u up!! ehehehehe the cons? it stinks!!!!!
Ecstasy --> heheehe here is another drug that will fuck you up!!! it
makes u feel good all ovr and it rox 2 have sex with hehehe
i had sex with like over 60 girls on it!! hehehee not at the
the same time tho ;)
Katamine --> hehehe k is kewl if ur lookin for a chance 2 sit in a room
and stare @ the ceiling 4 like a lot!! ravers like this
drug 2 but ravers R faggitts ehehehe j/k hehehehe.. uh the
pros of k r... u get fucked up!! hehehe the cons? u might
wake up the next morning with a bummer headache... ehehe
Shrooms --> shroomz rule dude!!! they are like eating 10 pounds of
candy corn in one gulp!!! u will be fucked up for hours
and probably lost in your own world... if u got urself some
good shit u will see hallusunashuns... so don't go driving
on them!! ehehehe
LSD --> lsd is fun but can make u confused 4 many hours and u can't
turn it off... 1 time i saw my mommy as the devil and she told
me 2 join her evil cult and i got scared and it was a bad trip
and i cried for 3 hours but other than that lsd was good fun
and kewl hehe
Cocaine --> hehehe this is the drug of *CHoisE* by self-absorbed actors
in hollywood!! hehehe pros r that u get nose bleeds, it is
very expensive, it is addictive, it makez ur penis small,
and u eventually become neurotic, too! cons r that it makes
u get rilly hyper n u might accidentally get hurt... hehehe
Herion --> hehehe oh shit the dozesSS i just took r startin n i cannot
concentr8 on this artical n-e more .. gonna go
outside now i am really crrruuuuuusin now down the INFORMATION SUPERH
IGHWAY? NO? WAIT? CAN I PLEASE HEAR PRINCE'S 1999 SONG ONE MORE
TIME???
FINALLY I CAN DIE A HAPPY MAN, YOU SICK MOTHREFUCEJR.
!!! GREETZ 2 ANONGIRL, KREID, TPP, MISTAWHO, VYRUS, DARWIN, SWISS POPE,
MEENK, AND THE REST OF THE #EZINES DRUG POSSE HEHE !!!
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Go Home to Alcohol"
-> by Neko
"Life is a cliche," I told her.
And she listened.
Silly girl.
But so did all the others.
I guess it's another cliche.
Just like butter and bread.
Or orange!
Can you get it?
I asked her.
She shook her head.
...
Later on she smacked me with the back of her left hand.
The ring I had gotten her cut my face. I knew I should've gotten
a smaller stone.
Stupid me.
"Why did you do that?"
"Why not?"
That's what all the others said.
Life is a cliche.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "You've Got Male"
-> A screenplay of a Major Motion Picture
-> by Darwin
[ Tom Hanks sits on his IBM PC as Meg Ryan sits on her
Macintosh, in different fabulously upscale apartments. ]
TOM : Hey baby, I think we should meat in real life. I'm a hunk of
burning hot man loving. I'm also fabulously upscale.
MEG : I'm also fabulously upscale, wealthy and really great looking.
Perhaps we could meat in some romantic way. I'll wear a tight
sweater which will allow you to see when my nipples are erect,
which they undoubtedly will be when I see you in New York in
the Springtime.
TOM : Oh yes, I love New York in the Springtime. It's times like
this, and while fucking Parker Posey, that I really am glad
that I'm a movie star. I agree that we should meat, perhaps
we could meat in some fabulously upscale coffee place.
MEG : *BEEP* *WHIRR* I AM A ROBOT, AND THEREFORE I FIND YOUR CLICHED
COMEONS TO BE IRRESISTABLE. Oh, wait, I mean, I love upscale
coffee places. I will need to dump Greg Kinnear, but he is also
a robot and therefore it will be easy to de-activate him. How
will I know what you look like, because we have arbitrarily
decided to not share any personal details, unlike humans when
they flirt on the Internet.
TOM : I will be wearing a nametag that says "YOU'VE GOT MALE" and
then perhaps we could create some sort of conflict between us
that accentuates our inevitable copulation.
MEG : Okay *BEEP* *whirr* I will see you there, I will put a rose in
my book, because you know how hard it is for movie stars to
find dates except over the internet and roses are romantic.
[ We cut to the couples walking towards the upscale coffee
place. As Meg Ryan bounces down the street bobbing her head back and
forth like a robot pixie, we see a dark shape approach her. He swings
a shining silver hammer and Meg Ryan falls to the ground in a heap.
The camera pans up to her assailant, and we notice that he has a
nametag that reads "YOU'VE GOT MALE". The camera pans back down to
Meg Ryan, as she begins to stand. Her assailant starts to scream as
Meg Ryan removes his right leg with her teeth. ]
TOM : [screaming] MY GOD YOU CRAZY BITCH WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?
MEG : YOU TRIED TO *BEEP* KILL ME *WHIRR* [ *CHOMP* ] YOU INTERNET
PERVERT!
TOM : [screaming] YOU'VE GOT MALE! YOU'VE GOT MALE!
MEG : [starting on the other leg] AND BOY IS IT TASTY. OH, DID I
MENTION THAT I LIKE GETTING COFFEE AT STARBUCKS(r), USING
AMERICA ONLINE(r) AND DRINKING EVIAN(r) BOTTLED WATER? ALSO,
I THINK THAT BIG CORPORATE DISCOUNT STORES ARE EVIL.
TOM : I AGREE WITH YOU ABOUT [scream] CORPORATIONS. LET'S PLEASE BE
FRIENDS.
MEG : FIRST, YOU MUST AGREE TO TAKE A DAILY SUPPLEMENT OF LSD, AS I DO,
IN ORDER TO SIMULATE SOME SORT OF HUMAN PERKINESS. ALSO, DID I
MENTION THAT I LOVE NEW YORK IN THE SPRINGTIME?
TOM : OKAY! WOULD YOU LIKE TO STROKE MY DOG? PERHAPS PARKER POSEY
COULD SUPPLY US WITH LSD AND WE COULD HAVE WEIRD DRUG SEX. I
KNOW 152 SEXUAL POSITIONS.
MEG : I FIND THAT IDEA OFFENSIVE! [picks up hammer] YOU'RE JUST LIKE
ALL THE OTHER MEN WHO I CAN'T HAVE RELATIONSHIPS WITH DESPITE
THE FACT THAT I FULFILL THEIR SEXUAL FANTASIES BY BEING BLONDE
AND PERKY! [starts bashing tom in with the hammer.]
YOU'VE GOT MALE!! YOU'VE GOT MALE!!
TOM : I LOVE YOU, SHOPGIRL! [dies]
[ The screen goes blank and strobe lights start flashing. There
is a mechanical voice-over. ]
VOICE : AN EMERGENCY HAS BEEN REPORTED. PLEASE MOVE TOWARDS THE EXITS.
[ The audience stands outside in the cold for 10 minutes. When
they come back in, action resumes. ]
MEG : OH, TOM, I WAS HOPING IT WOULD BE YOU. [kisses Tom Hank's corpse]
[ The dog starts lapping up Tom's blood as Meg kisses Tom
passionately. Fade to Black. ]
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Santa Has Cold Feet"
-> by AltRocks
I've often wondered what kind of socks Santa must wear. I mean
it's rather cold at the north pole, and all renditions of his living
quarters are quite humble and 17th century in nature. And I can't
imagine elves provide much body heat. So his socks must be really
thick. Then I wonder the invevitable question, "With socks that thick,
how does he make it down the chimney?" Granted, he has magical
'shrinking' powers, and all, but wool, cotton, and even pollyesther
have their limits when compacted. So, I figure he must have normal
socks. But flying thru the cold air every year, and living in such a
harsh enviroment must make his feet rather cold all the time. He's
been doing his little thing for centuries now, and I'm sure somewhere
in the 1800's gangrene must've gotten the better of him. So he has no
feet, so they can't be cold. But what does he walk on then? Who
knows? Can't you just set aside all your logic, and just accept him as
a myth that is for the children? What kind of person analyzes such a
good and harmless character as Santa Claus? The nerve.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Doorknob"
-> by Nybar
"You don't seem to understand the concept," the psycologist
said. "You are just a door knob." The door knob, in it's usuual
debonaire way, didn't respond at all. "Don't do this to me, Joe. You
are nothing but a door knob, no matter what you think."
His friends at first were cracking up by the impetuous door
knob, and then kind of alarmed. They thought that maybe if the door
knob could do what it was doing, maybe just anything was. Maybe even a
doorstop. Maybe... even a black doorstop. So they had hired their
friend for the doorknob, to diagnose why it did what it did.
He asked it again if it had any manufacturing flaws or had
suffered ill use. It still refused to answer. A week later, a
UFOlogist black kid with a toothy grin who the president had consulted
on all his public decisions, decided that it suffered from not knowing
how to read. He prescribed a "My First Book: Kill Whitey" book, but
the door knob refused to read or even try to learn to read. It was
really driving everyone insane.
The week after that, everyone in the world came and try to make
the door knob explain it's sick agenda. Gay and Lesbian activists try
to ask it about it's stance on gays in the millitary. It didn't
respond. Feminazis tried to recruit it for their millitant femme
agenda, but it refused by not answering. And all because it just didn't
understand it was a door knob like any other. Finally, after being
cloned, stolen 5 times, dropped accidentaly and prayed to, it talked.
It said something about secret irony.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Poems I Wrote in 8th Grade"
-> by Quarex
Since the aim of this issue is to produce as much horrible,
horrible work as we physically can, I figured I could reach back into
my past and help out. Basically, in late 8th grade, I was on the phone
with Ghort [who you all obviously know], and we were making fun of
someone we had seen reading poetry. We both decided that anyone could
write poetry, which naturally is true, and I decided furthermore that I
was going to write some poetry which was just as horrible as the work we
had heard, yet had distinctive properties of me visible. Well, even
though these poems are about seven years old, they are still rather
indicative of what I think about poetry in general, and especially bad
poetry.
Or, alternately, you can believe that these were all written by
my favorite [out of the two I think I have ever liked] poet, Robert
Herrick.
---
Thine eyes like candy
Thine kisses like Handy Andy
But that smelly cat of yours
makes me wish I was the floor
If only you smelled as bad as that cat
'Cuz then I could take you and make you a mat
For you, my dearest, are ugly and grey
While your little cat is nearly okay
And forgive me for sounding a little remorse
but frankly my dear, you can go fuck a horse
---
How happy I am
when you are like them
And not like others
because you are my brothers
I've known you since birth
you've given me mirth
you stupid mother fucker
I'm going to kill you
Look out for the clown
Look out for the clown
He's coming to town
Look out for the clown
---
Your eyes
like a stream of steam
or like a pool of gruel
in any case you're fucked
go away
---
Your eyes are sweet
but I just ate them
I'm sorry my sweet
but you don't taste good
For now, my sweet
let's go out to eat
And then, my sweet,
I'll devour your fucking feet
but then, my sweet,
we'll paint the town mauve
and then, my sweet,
better run your ass off
because, my sweet,
I've become bored of you
and now, my sweet
eat flaming hot death
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Hit Girls"
-> by Styx
From dropdead@mindspring.com Wed Apr 01 04:13:19 1998
Newsgroups: alt.women.supremacy
Subject: Beating women.
From: dropdead@mindspring.com (Styx)
Date: Wed, 01 Apr 1998 08:13:19 GMT
This is not a joke. Hear me out.
First allow me to state that I realize that under NO
circumstances it is okay for anybody to attack anybody, period.
Second, allow me to state that it is a common thing for human
beings to attack one another, and often unavoidable, unfortunately.
From what I have found, this is how it basically goes; when a man
and a woman attack each other, women usually attack men
mentally/emotionally while men usually attack women verbally/physically
(*usually* is the key word, so no shouts of "stereotype," please).
My problem is this. Why is it considered unacceptable by society
for men to hit women while there are no consequences for women attacking
men mentally?
Some say that a woman's body is more fragile. Most are weaker,
physically, than men. Parts of their anatomy can be damaged in a
physical altercation (mammary glands, etc). Yet, I've yet to hear a
case of a woman being jailed for kicking a guy in the balls. Why not?
She could permanently damage a male's reproductive system doing such a
thing.
This is what I believe. *If* you are in the unfortunate
situation of a physical altercation and *you* are the one being
attacked, you can attack back *regardless of the gender of the
attacker*. I propose that it is *fine* to hit a woman if she is
hitting you if you cannot defend yourself in such a way as to avoid
further physical conflict.
Anyway, my major point - the whole "men can't hit women" thing
makes me utterly sick to my stomach and I think it's one of the most
supreme examples of a double-standard ever forcefed upon our
touchy-feely PC society.
If you're a man and you're being hit, hit back. If it's a
woman, aim for vital parts. Teach her a lesson. Same goes for the
women.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "In Memory of Linda McCartney"
-> by Swiss Pope
\\\_______///
\\ p p //
| |
| /_ |
\ o |
\____/
The members of the Razor 1911 Ascii Art Division hereby commemorate the
death of Linda McCartney, wife of the renowned Beatle Paul McCarney
I think she had Breast Cancer
You all should (if you're a girl) check your breasts because Breast
Cancer does not discriminate-- even not famous people like you can get
it
I would put the date of her death here but I am too lazy to look up the
exact date when she died
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Mogel is GOD, Part II"
-> by AltRocks
DAMN IT, Mogel, if you reject my love I swear to all that is
unholy I will stalk you! You are god! I want your sexy ass all to
myself. I will kill anyone who gets near you and tries to take you
away!@@#@!#@#
I have a cage in my basement with a soda machine, refrigerator
and nice accomodations for you to live in. I'll even give you a
permanent Internet Connection! But I swear I will have you all to
myself@!@#!#!#
Wheneever I think about that sweet ass of your (a prefect 10!!!)
I just cream myself!
If you want to snuggle, check the YES box.
_
|_| YES
_
|_| NO
But remember what will happen if you reject my lovin'@!#$!@#!@
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Untitled Novel, Circa Seventh Grade, 1990"
-> by Phairgirl
--- Chapter One: *Goodbye*
"But mom..." I complained.
"We're moving and that's that!" yelled my fucking ignorant mother.
"Don't you care about..."
"Get packed!"
There was no use arguing. My mother was set in her ways about
moving. But I didn't want to leave my hometown of Farley, Iowa
for a big city like LA. I'd rather clean pig stalls.
Let me explain. I'm a farmer's daughter--with a Hollywood name.
Tamara Jacquellynne Love. Everyone calls me Mara. We're moving to Los
Angeles, California, because my tight-ass dad got a job there--as an
architect. I never knew my dad went to college. He's way cool compared
to my mom, but they're both 1970's rejects.
I filled my Gucci bag with my essentials--make-up, hair spray,
my walkman and a few tapes. My good leather suitcases held my clothes
and other essentials. Well, my mother's idea of essentials--deoderant,
tampons, Q-Tips. Not near MY standards of essentials--zit cream, razors,
jewelry, and nail files.
"Hurry up, you fucking slowpoke! We'll miss our flight!"
I didn't even have time to call my friends!
"Forget it--I'll get us the next latest flight--you have 4 hours.
Move it!" Mom's such a bitch.
Well at least now I could call everyone. I walked out of my room
to the hall phone. There was one good thing about moving--I was promised
my own line.
No sooner was I out when I heard a booming, "SURPRISE!" There in
the hallway was a giant banner reading, "Good luck in LA, MTL!" I knew
that if my friends would've had their way, it'd read, "Bye from the
Hellhole of America." But having that in the middle of a house where the
mom read Bible stories to children just wouldn't seem appropriate.
"Good luck in LA, Mara! Stun those great guys on the beaches with
your picture-perfect body!" said my best friend, Geneveve, or Viva. She
really knows how to cheer a person up.
"Yeah, you look like a California girl! Your hair is blond, your
eyes are blue and you already have a tan." That was my boyfriend, Ty.
God, was I going to miss him.
"God, am I going to miss you!" I cried, then I actually CRIED.
Me. Miss Independence.
"Shush, Tamara. You're gonna knock those LA guys off their feet,"
said Ty. I knew that hurt him to say that. He gave me a peck on the lips.
There were at least 40 of my closest friends there. All of them
took time to wish me good luck, to knock the guys dead, and to have fun.
They'd all miss me; I sensed that.
"Everyone will have to leave now," said Mom, three hours later.
"We have to get going. Thanks 4 coming."
That was the last I saw of my best friend.
That was the last I saw of my now ex-boyfriend.
I had no idea what to expect.
--- Chapter Two: *A New Place*
"Flight 105, please report to the boarding area. Flight 105."
"That's us, baby. Let's go!"
My mother's so fucking gay! No. I was going to stay here in
Farley in an empty house with no money. Of course, if I had those
things, I'd rather stay on the farm.
As we walked out of the airport to board the 747, I was
overwhelmed. THIS huge hunk of steel FLEW? A feather maybe. But not
about a million tons of machinery.
I climbed up and up, knowing I'd never see this stupid town
again. Why wasn't I eager to get to a cool, famous, luxurious place?
Did I like hellholes or something? Am I a mental case?
Once aboard the plane, I found my seat. First class. My parents
may have no sense of style but at least they know how to fly.
We didn't have a stewardess. We had a steward. Or whatever you
call a guy. Oh joy. Especially when it looked like he put on a mud
masque to help his zits and he left it on.
"Hello, I'm Jonathan, your flight attendant for the trip. If
you need anything, I'm your man." Gee. How conceited can you get.
Anyway, I guess I can admit he was a pretty good flight
attendant, although he would make a big deal of "regular or
decaffeinated" coffee. He said it like, "I'm God and you're not!"
I started to paint my nails. A movie was put on the screen but I
saw it eons ago. I painted them this awesome shade of red. Perfect. I
wore this black mini-skirt, a red top with lace, and these great red
heels.
"You look like a slut!" my completely unfashion conscious mom
commented.
"So?" I could've cared less.
"You're not going out in public like that!"
"Wanna bet?"
"Next you'll tell me, EVERYONE in LA dresses like that."
"Everyone in LA dresses like that."
"Not everyone. Not me!"
"Mom, this isn't gonna be Farley, the armpit of America."
"You didn't want to move from that armpit, let me remind you."
"I'm 20!"
"Then move out!"
"You're paying for my education!"
"Then shut up!"
I did. Only the Mouth of the Midwest could make me be quiet. And
the thought of going to UCLA! I guess I'm not going to miss Farley. Much.
The plane landed 4 hours after takeoff. I knew a broader horizon
was outside waiting for me.
We went into the airport, got our luggage, and went out to meet
our car, which had also been flown in. We were moving to 5105 Ocean
Drive. I prayed that, like the street name, it was by the beach.
When we pulled up to our house, 30 minutes later I did a double
take.
Oh my Lord!
I proceeded to faint.
--- Chapter Three: *The Neighborhood*
After I came to, I started screaming.
"Don't you like it, dear?" my dad asked.
What a dumb question.
"The money... How..."
"We had savings, dear. Plus my new job will help costs."
I ran up to the porch of our new house.
Let me correct myself--mansion.
It was huge!
I practically pulled the handle off the door trying to get
inside. Finally, Mom unlocked it.
I had a whole floor to myself.
"You can have the top, dear. That way, you don't have to worry
about your folks, curfew, or anything. I'll cook and clean if you, in
turn, bring home nothing lower than a C in school."
"I can do better--even all B's!"
"I'll be satisfied with C's. It's already furnished, so we sold
your bed, dresser, nightstnad, air conditioner, etc, and here's the
money you made."
Now I know brass beds are expensive, but...
"2 thousand dollars?!"
"All yours."
I was, basically, in shock.
"I'll use it to redecorate, refurnish, or just make improvements
on my floor."
"Terrific!"
"We need a stereo--don't you think?" I sighed. A stereo, all the
CDs a person could want, ooh... I was starting to think I was dreaming.
I went up to my room.
Someone should've warned me.
I walked in--it was so great! My brass bed so well replaced by a
queen size waterbed! My pink dresser replaced by solid oak! And there,
on my new nightstand, was a CD player!
"You guys didn't have to do this."
"But we wanted you to like California," said good-old Dad. Thank
God for architecture.
"I love it here!"
I looked out the window to face... the Pacific Ocean.
"Oh..."
That's all I could say.
I went to another window. This time, I was face to face (well,
window to window) with the most gorgeous guy I ever saw in my life. He
looked a little older than me. Right then, I thought my eyes went
crossed, cuz I saw 2 of them. I rubbed my eyes and gaped. I guess I
looked incredibly stupid because they BOTH started to laugh. Twins!
Meekly, I waved. They waved back, waved good-bye that is, and left.
"Oh thank you! I love this room!"
"I knew you'd like it!" said Mom. I guess she wasn't too bad.
"Let me get acquainted with my new home, ok, and let me unpack,"
I said to my 'rents.
They finally left!
I lept to my window--THEY WERE BACK.
Then--Lord knows what happened--I started laughing. They opened
their window. I flipped--but managed to open mine.
"Hey--who are you!" yelled one GT--Gorgeous Twin--while the
other smacked him and said, "Be nice!"
"Mara Love... and you are?"
"Gunnar Nelson."
"Matthew Nelson."
"How am I supposed to tell you guys apart!" I shrieked in
surprise.
The GT's gave me this look like, "We're not IDENTICAL."
"EZ," yelled Gunnar--I think. Yeah, it was Gunnar. He was the one
standing on the left--my left, that is. "My hair's longer in the front.
Matt's got bangs."
I was right--it was Gunnar.
I finally figured out who was talking when Matt started. "The
longer you know us, the more you notice. Where'd you move from?"
"Some miniscule town in Iowa," I responded truthfully.
"Farmer's daughter," I heard Matt murmur to Gunnar.
"Not everyone from Iowa is a farmer! But, I am a farmer's
daughter. He's going into architecture."
Now, I don't have the world's greatest eyes (as you saw by my
double trouble gorgeous guy) but I swear I saw Matt roll his eyes.
And Gunnar lick his lips.
"Are you guys unpacked yet enough for us to come over?" asked Matt.
Maybe he HADN'T rolled his eyes.
"I don't know about my parents, but I am, and the floor is like,
my private apartment. No curfews. Finally!"
"Cool. How old ARE you?" asked Gunnar. Another smack from Matt.
"I'm 20. Going to UCLA after the summer's over."
"That's great, you're getting an education. We're in the music
business," said Matthew. I could easily imagine him at UCLA. He
definitely had brains. I could live with that. Definitely.
"Yeah, we're gonna be as big as our dad was," smiled Gunnar. All
the sudden, it hit me. Nelson. These guys were Rick Nelson's sons!
Celebrities in my own backyard!
"Album's gonna be out next week," commented Matthew.
"First single and video in 2 weeks," said Gunnar. They had ESP or
something with each other.
"I guess then I won't have you all to myselves, with fans hanging
around." Oops. Now they KNEW I liked them.
But Gunnar came right back. "It'll be great, but I'd like to have
some private time." Evidently, Matt thought PRIVATE TIME WITH ME cuz he
smacked Gunnar again.
Whoh.
"When'll you be don? I'd like to... see the house," said Gunnar.
He must've chosen his words carefully so Matt wouldn't smack him.
"Tomorrow, probably."
"We'll call you. What's your number?" Gunnar ducked just in time.
Matt hit the window pane, and Gunnar laughed.
After a minute or two, I yelled, "555-6943."
"Gotcha, babe!" Gunnar ran, Matt chased him, and this cute white
Lab stuck its head out the window.
"Graceface-no!" said Gunnar in this voice I never thought could
come from someone like him. The pup obediently got down.
"That was Grace, our four year old Labrador. We also have Max,
a one year old Lab. Grace's puppy," explained Matt.
"They're adorable!" I said. My mom called for supper. "I gotta
go. Free food. See ya round!" I yelled.
"Bye!" said Matt.
Then a faint "Bye" from a hiding Gunnar.
!!========================================================================!!
-> "Hoe Hee-haw"
-> by Trilobyte
so if i were to be a yippy yi yo kiyay, this is how i would start.
i'd get my cowboy hat and my cowboy boots and my cowboy horse and i'd be
on hee-haw every week or night or whatever and i'd sing country songs
with my mouth until my vocal chords were shot and then i'd cut my head
off because, well, dood, you fucking suck. i fucking hate you. dood,
one time i was fucking your mom and she called out your name hahaha.
she's such a nasty old hoe i reached up in her cunt and pulled out a
fossil dinosaur dick!!! AHAHHAHAH!!!!
and i got a piece of danish which i ate gladly.
you ever hear of this guy named MOGEL? he runs a zine called
HOE which is short for YOU FUCKING SUCK!! ! AHAHAHHAAH AHH AH AH
HOE YOU FUCKING SUCK HOE!!!!!!!!!!!! PALINDROME!!!!!!!!!!!!!
PALINDROMES FUCKING BLOW!!!!! BUT NOT AS MUCH AS YOUR MOM
BLEW ME LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
so yeah. now, to add to the crappiness of this text file, i
will completely change themes mid-article. my mood has changed, and
stuff. i know this girl who went to california and came back. hadn't
seen her until today. yeah.
in traditional "stupid dto/hoe story fashion," BOB THE PIG WAS
UGLY AND FAT AND HE FUCKED YER MOM TOO!!!! OBVIOUSLY SINCE SHE DOES
YOU EVERY DAY, FAT AND UGLY TURNS HER ON!!!
but i can't turn her on. and if i could, i wouldn't be able to
get it up. see, i've got this problem... every time i see her naked, I
WANT TO VOMIT. KINDA LIKE WHEN I SEE YOU. YOU MAKE ME WANT TO VOMIT
BECAUSE YOU ARE SUCH A THING I HATE. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU
i implanted a yellow chip into the socket in my brain and walked
down the dark alley. they must be waiting for me, every indication was
there. the way everyone had looked at me the past few days... the way
the milk rotted too fast in my refrigerator... the note on my forehead
that said "GAME'S OVER. COME OUT OF YOUR HIDING PLACE, WE ALREADY FOUND
HIM. GOD DAMN IT, GET OUT OF THERE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO HIDE ANYMORE!
WE FOUND HIM! JESUS CHRIST, IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF THERE WE'RE LEAVING
IN 1 MINUTE! WE'LL LEAVE WITHOUT YOU!"
oh wait, it said more.
"WE'RE NOT GOING TO PLAY ANYMORE. NOBODY'S COMING TO FIND YOU,
THE GAME'S OVER AND NOBODY LIKES YOU ANYWAY. GOD DAMN IT, THIS IS THE
LAST TIME WE PLAY SARDINES WITH YOU. OR HIDE AND GO SEEK, TOO! JESUS
CHRIST, ASSHOLE! GET YOUR ASS -- THERE YOU ARE! YEAH, I KICKED YOU!
HOW DO YOU LIKE IT? YEAH, AGAIN! DOES IT HURT? HERE! ONE MORE TIME!
JESUS CHRIST! WHEN I CALL YOU, YOU COME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! I CALL
YOU, AND YOU COME! JUST LIKE THE LITTLE DOG YOU ARE! WEREN'T YOU A
HOUSETRAINED DOG? I DON'T THINK SO! YEAH, I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PEE YOUR
FUCKING PANTS IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW."
cheap wine and liquor, you mix it in with plastic and wire and
put a few pieces of hair and plush leather satin and inject it into your
dog with stoplight flashes of godlike haze.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #399 - WRITTEN BY THE HOE STAFF - 1/4/98 !!