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Angstmonster 23
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+ / __ \_ | \ /_/ >\__ \| | Y Y \<_> ) | \__ \| |\ ___/| | \/ +
* (____ /_| /___ /____ >|__|__|_| /___/__| /___ >|__| \__ \|__| *
+ \/ \/____/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ +
* 03.24.03 angstmonster issue 23 *
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¡edited (poorly) by gir¡
<whosham> these protesters rule.
<whosham> 3 days ago 67% of people approved of the war
<whosham> today its up to 76%
<whosham> go go protests
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
+ +
+ Brief words from gir +
+ Dejavu tildaq +
+ Story: The Prudes oregano +
+ THE ORANGE st0vbold +
+ Randy Sat Alone trilobyte +
+ THE PROTESTS tweak +
+ Things That Annoy Me ed +
+ Untitled john libertus austin +
+ Another night in the life... kool peith +
+ Surprise Me wayne +
+ Zombism's Biggest Mystery ascii bat +
+ THE RETURN OF ZHIXEL +
+ Frostfest ch33z-1t +
+ +
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
<oregano2k> ten minutes before midnight
<oregano2k> and the quiet is just now interrupted
<oregano2k> by the sound of the emergency crews
<oregano2k> running to and fro
<oregano2k> getting bags ready
<oregano2k> and gravediggers
<oregano2k> digging fresh holes
<oregano2k> what they hear
<oregano2k> but you cannot
<oregano2k> is in the distance
<oregano2k> the sound
<oregano2k> of the waking
<oregano2k> of the angstmonster
---------------
: Brief Words :
: from gir :
---------------
HI KIDS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT ANGST IS? DO YOU WANNA KICK MY FACE IN FOR BEING
LATE AGAIN WITH THE RELEASE OF THIS THEME ISSUE? THAT'S A TYPE OF ANGST.
THERE ARE ALL SORTS OF TYPES OF ANGST. MY ONLY WISH WAS THAT I HAD A TIME
MACHINE AND COULD HAVE GONE BACK TO WHEN I WAS A LITTLE HIGH SCHOOLING BECAUSE
I WAS FULL OF ANGST THEN, A FUZZY POTENT BALL OF ANGST THAT WANTED TO DESTROY!
(ACTUALLY, I DIDN'T WANT TO DESTROY. I JUST WANTED TO BE UNDERSTOOD DAMNIT!)
THAT'S ALL ANYONE WANTS THOUGH, TO BE UNDERSTOOD.
SO IF YOU'RE CHILLING ALL UP IN A BALL OF ANGST, LISTENING TO YOUR NIRVANA OR
YOUR NU METAL, YOU'RE PROBABLY ROCKING OUT ANGST STYLE. HELL, IF YOU SPEND ALL
YOU'RE TIME WORKING ON A ZINE'S SPECIAL ISSUE AND YOU NEVER GET AROUND TO
WRITING THINGS FOR IT EVEN THOUGH IT'S YOUR BABY THAT YOUR BIRTHED IN THE BACK
OF AN ALLEY WITH A SCARY MAN TRYING TO GIVE YOU AN ABORTION WITH A COAT HANGER
THAT HE PROBABLY STOLE FROM THE DISCOUNT CLOTHES RACKS AT THE GOODWILL DOWN THE
STREET, THEN YOU'RE PROBABLY ANGSTY.
SOME WOULD SAY THAT ANGST DRIVES PEOPLE TO BE ALL ARTSY AND CREATIVE, BECAUSE
LIKE ANYTHING ELSE, IT'S AN EMOTION THAT BOTTLES UP INSIDE US LOOKING FOR A WAY
TO BE RELEASED.
"Hardcore art was an expression of angst." -Winston Smith
FUCK YEAH, EZINES ARE HARDCORE ART. SO DON'T LET IT BEAT YOU UP TO MUCH,
OTHERWISE YOU MIGHT REALLY ENJOY IT LIKE SOME DISSATISFIED CORPORATE SLAVE AND
COME BACK TO USE LOOKING FOR UNITY BUT THE NEXT TIME AROUND WE'LL BE ALL GIDDY
AND TFILE HAPPY LIKE WE DIDN'T KNOW NOTHING BOUT THIS ANGST THING ALL THE KIDS
ARE DOING.
-------------
: Dejavu :
: by tildaq :
-------------
DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE
EVEERYONE FUCKING DIE!
SADDAM HUSSIEN! YOU'RE DEAD!
I'm going to personally walk right up to Saddam Hussein and look at him like I
want to actually talk to him but really all I would like to do is smash a brick
right thru his M-STASH thru the back of his shit-filled head. However I am
going to give the little prick the benefit of the doubt and simply say, "did
you have anything to do with 9/11"
to which he will reply, "no"
to which I will reply,"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK YOU'RE A FUCKING DICTATOR WHO RAPES
AND KILLS AND LAUGHS AT AMERICA BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WON THE GODDAMN WAR FROM
'91 WELL I GOT NEWS FOR YA ASSHOLE, AMERICA'S BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER AND WE
WON'T PUT UP WITH YOUR TYRANNICAL MANICAL BULLSHIT IN SUCH A BEAUTIFUL PLACE A
EARTH YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
and just when he opens his mouth to dribble out some bullshit about american
deception and rhetoric I am going to (in random order):
1. First, kick him in the balls
2. Fourth, Pull out his front teeth very slowly
5. Third, smash his toes with an old rusty sledge hammer
4. Second, do an Irish jig on his head
3. Fifth, make a bong out of his penis of a country (that's right, the entire
country will be converted into a bong!)
After this whole ordeal I figured I would liberate the people of Iraq if they
are still hanging around. I forgot to mention that I was going to press the end
of a bazooka to Osama Bin Laden's face while he is asleep so that one side of
his ugly face is slightly uncomfortable. I will then say, "I'll bet it was funny
at the time that you realized that I am going to FUCKING MURDER YOU YOU SICK
FUCKING BASTARD WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING THRU YOUR DEMENTED HEAD WHEN YOU CAME
UP WITH THE WHOLE TERRORIST THING, NOT A GOOD LINE OF WORK WHERE I COME FROM
ASS! AND I COME FROM AMERICA WHERE IF YOU PISS SOMEONE OFF, YOU PISS HIS
FRIENDS OFF and WHEN YOU PISS OFF MORE PEOPLE THAN YOU CAN HANDLE YOU SHOULD
PREPARE YOURSELF FOR AN ALL OUT WAR, WELL YOU HAVE PISSED OFF MY AMERICAN
FRIENDS AND I WOULD LIKE THEM TO STAY ALIVE FOR ME TO MAKE FUN OF WHEN I AM
WALKING DOWN MY STREET SO NOW YOU HAVE TO BE KILLED BY MY BAZOOKA YOU PIECE OF
SHIT"
BBBBAAAAAAMMMM! and that's how I would kill Osama Bin LADEN.....
I would like to know how you and others would like to murder Saddam and OSAMA
if you were given the chance....which may actually happen if you play your
angsty-cards right.
---------------------
: Story: The Prudes :
: by oregano :
---------------------
Those prudes in my office, I am going to show them
a lesson, they all think they are so liberal and
accepting, I play McLusky loud, it has the line one of
their songs, "All your friends are cun-s, your mother
is a bull dyke" for example and I play the song loud,
too loud, loud enough to be heard outside my cubicle
if the air venting is not on at the time, and no one
says a word. But I will show them, I have plans.
Like when it gets warmer outside, I plan to come to
work not wearing any socks! Imagine how those prudes
will react then! Take that, Mister Liberal! Or maybe
I will wear a shirt that is a shade or two outside of
the colors approved in the dress code. Lets see them
stop me then. "Mr. oregano, well, we are not quite
sure, but we think your shirt is not in the appropirate
spectrum for the workplace, but we are not sure, lets
run it through Photoshop and check the levels on the
filters." And I'll tell them to scan their own
shirts! Woo! Score, that will put them in shut-up
mode.
Man, I am really steamed, but knowing that I will
get back at them, that makes it all worthwhile.
---------------
: THE ORANGE :
: by st0vbold :
---------------
Ok, so the noble gir asked me to write something for this issue, and this is
the best I could come up with. Afterall it's 2:30am. Bad grammar etc? Blame
gir! :)
I woke up and had this strange organic object in my hand.. I'd never seen
anything quite like this before.. it opened it's eyes, looked at me and said;
"How 'bout an orange?"
I tried to think back on what I had been doing the night before but I couldn't
remember a thing. Was I here, in the safety of my home, or was I out getting
drunk? The last thing seemed obvious, so I looked back at this peculiar little
object, which I still to this day haven't been able to identify.
Could this all just be happening inside my head?
It was a horrible sight, yet I dared not take my eyes off of it, because who
knew what it was capable of. What was it? Where did it come from? Did it come
in peace? Questions raced through my delirious mind, and I felt the bitter
taste of vomit in the back of my throat. My eyes burned like hell.
I turned my head and let the warm, bitter liquid leave my body. My throat
burned as I threw up on my shoulder and the sheets. The smell became
unbearable, and I decided to take this strange object up on his offer about the
orange, as I figured that the strong smell would be enough to keep the
bittersweet smell of vomit away. So I reached out for it.
As I reached out, this.. this object dropped the juicy fruit in the palm of my
hand. It felt rubbery and cold. Almost like the skin of a snake.
I took a closer look at the orange, and I saw something written on the peel;
+----------------------------------------+
| AO (ARTIFICIAL ORANGE) |
| Ingredients: |
| |
| Recycled halalbutchered belgian earth- |
| worms wrapped up in a bright orange |
| coloured plastic wrapping. He won't |
| notice the difference. |
+----------------------------------------+
What the hell was this? I dared not look at the object again, so I closed my
eyes and let my head rest on my vomit soaked shoulder. I felt a cold sweat
break out on my forehead, and my heart started racing. What was happening to
me? What is the meaning of this? It felt as if my head was going to explode.
I couldn't do anything by hope what this thing would go away.
I wanted to
I died.
-------------------
: Randy Sat Alone :
: by trilobyte :
-------------------
fay wasn't happy about her surroundings at her apartment. she was fed
up with the bad attitudes that todd was exhibiting; he would roam around and
scream about things like rice being left in the cooker, milk being left out
of the refrigerator, cigarette butts on the floor, the television being left
on ... todd wasn't in any place to complain, fay said, because he was just as
much to blame as anyone else.
in fact, todd would like to leave his cat in other peoples' rooms, not
cleaning up the waste left behind. he would blare his video game music as
loudly as possible to be able to hear every subtle nuance of the action.
even at two o'clock in the morning. he would invite his friends over and
they would throw wild cocaine-less parties, snorting pixy stix
and leaving dusty powder everywhere. he was just as much to blame.
one night, fay and todd were both excited about a rock show coming up
at a local venue. fay wanted to go, todd wanted to go, and though they
absolutely despised each other, they went as a pair. so did another friend
of theirs, randy. fay and randy got along fine, so did randy and todd. it
was uncomfortable, but at least everyone had their fallbacks.
that night, fay and todd got incredibly drunk. randy had a bit to
drink, but not enough to cloud his judgment, and all of them enjoyed the show
as much as you'd imagine a rock show would entertain. they sat at the same
table afterward, commiserating about the night's show, and how great the
singer's pants were.
"man, he was like, totally THERE, you know," todd said, as he took
a sip of his beer.
"yeah, man, i mean, it was like he was the greatest rock star ever, but
you know, haha, those PANTS, haha," randy replied.
"i don't know," said fay.
both guys looked at her as if she had committed a felony.
"what do you mean, '[you] don't know'?" randy asked, feigning concern.
"well, i mean, he was like, sorta drunk up there, and he stumbled over
some of the words of ... what's that song? 'pansy ass'? he stumbled over some
of 'pansy ass' and that's one of my favorite songs. i don't know."
"you don't know? YOU DON'T KNOW?" todd sputtered. saliva flew from
his mouth. "you PRETEND to like this band, you think they're just the coolest
thing, you say, you know, but then you come out here, and it's all about how
the guy looks and how he's not that great of a singer, and i think you're
just... just a fucking FLAKE! a fucking flake, that's all you are!"
fay was taken aback.
"a flake?" she was very offended. she truly liked the band, "grape
harbor" was their name, she was a very big fan and had two of their posters.
one had a picture of the lead singer wearing no shirt in front of a large
orange backdrop, and the other hand the band all on a boat pretending to go
fishing. "i am" -- she pointed at todd for emphasis -- "NOT" -- she spit --
"a flake."
"yeah," todd responded, "you are the WORST flake, completely ... you
buy all this organic ... food ..."
randy butted in -- "guys," he said, but it didn't grab any attention --
"you smell like CHEESE all the time, you look like you've been rejected
from the Siouxsie and the Banshees Fan Hall of Fame, you belong in a dumpster,
and you, and you," he quickly took a sip of his beer, "you don't.. like the,
uhh, band!"
fay was disgruntled. she slammed her beer glass down hard and began to
kick todd under the table. he tried to stop her by grabbing her boot but it
just slipped out from his hand, and she began kicking him more.
randy got into the mess, noticing that a desperate situation was about
to erupt. he kicked with all his might, and managed to disrupt the physical
abuse by entangling their legs in his.
all knotted up, the situation began to calm.
"so how 'bout them bears," randy said jokingly, to distract attention
from the bitter dispute.
"i don't like the bears," fay said, unwisely.
"oh you DON'T, do you? you don't even like FOOTBALL!" todd stood
up and shouted, leaning over the table, spitting in fay's face. "you've said
yourself, you don't even like football at ALL, so how could you know
anything about the bears?! how can you say that, when you don't even know??!"
she began to cower. she stared into her beer and silence invaded the
space.
todd straightened up, patiently waiting for something to happen.
randy thanked his lucky stars that everyone was calm for a moment and
unwrapped his legs from fay's.
"thank you," she said, with a quick glance in his direction. she then
began to again stare silently into her beer.
"well?" todd poked.
"well WHAT?" fay looked up. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? i can't just
sit here and take everything you say, i don't want to put up with this! i have
enough shit to deal with beyond your petty shit! you've got nothing to
do but play your video games and bitch about what everybody else is doing, but
you're no better!"
"look at you," todd responded, "you're getting all worked up about
this." he grinned, sat down, and took a sip from his beer.
"i'm WHAT?" fay stood up. "*I'M* getting all worked up about this?
you just sit there and act calm, mr. 'i don't understand social interaction.'
i've got too much shit to deal with to put up with you anymore."
"snotty pants."
"SNOTTY PANTS? IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? COME ON, COME ON!!"
"poop head."
"POOP HEAD. yeah, that's REALLY GREAT." fay grabbed her beer and ran
off to another table with people she supposedly knew.
randy and todd sat awkwardly calm for a moment until randy spoke up:
"yeah."
todd looked over at him -- "yeah? don't you sit there and gloat, you
didn't do shit back there. how could you just sit there and let me take that?
what are you, reflective?"
randy was surprised. "look, man, i --"
"you call yourself my FRIEND?" he threw his hands up into the air and
stared at randy. "shit, i can't take this anymore. you people drive me
nuts!" he walked off to the bar and sat down next to some guy with a
white beard who didn't say anything and didn't seem to care much, either.
randy sat alone.
----------------
: THE PROTESTS :
: by tweak :
----------------
It'd been raining since last night when the first attacks on Iraq were
announced. My shoes were covered with a layer of mud and the extra squishy
feeling provided me no comfort. So far, my opinion of war was stupid. I was
convinced that the rain was some sort of metaphorical equivelant to the rain
of doom the US decided to bless Iraq with. For a moment, I was too busy
thinking about the holes in my shoes to worry about all the innocent victims of
the attacks and that's when it happened: I stepped on a worm!
I didn't mean to, my mind was elsewhere, I was distracted. Besides no one saw
me do it, so I wouldn't have to worry about being found out. But the worm a
few inches a way didn't seem to think so. He saw the whole thing and it looked
like he was carrying a camera!
Within a few moments, more worms started to squirm over the wet concrete and
crowd around me. There was an uproar. I didn't even know that worms could
make sounds, but here these worms were get riled up by the fact that I just
managed to kill one of their brethren. Carefully falling to my knees, worms
surrounding me, I begged for forgiveness. The worm with the camera began to
take the tape out and destroyed it. I thanked him personally and got up to go
about my day.
That wasn't the last I saw of worms that day. Everywhere I went there were
worms crawling along the sidewalks. I tried to count them all but there were
just too many!!! I decided to ask the worm with the camera from early that
day what was going on.
"We're protesting the war."
"Why?"
"If chemical and biological weapons are used, humans aren't the only ones that
suffer. People are so concerned about those things getting into their water
sources. Before it does that, it goes through the ground which will affect us.
Once you're leader declared war, many worm families got scared and took to the
surface. It just happens that in addition to being scared of an attack, we are
protesting."
"How are you going to eat when you get hungry? If you're all afraid of the
ground now."
"We'll starve before we give up. If your leader doesn't realize how many lives
he is impacting, then we don't wanna live in his soil."
I thanked him again and wished him and all of his friends luck. Most people
wouldn't even notice, since it was still raining and worms get flooded out of
their homes anyways. My day went on. I went to class, ate some dinner, and
the rain kept up. Before I sat down to write this file, I went back to visit
the worms and their protests but to my horror, they were all dead.
---------------
: Things That :
: Annoy Me :
: by ed :
---------------
-when people you don't know walk past you with a smile or smirk on their face,
they're not even smiling at you either, it's annoying, why are you fucking
smiling to yourself?
-people who throw up all over the hall toilets and leave that mess
-dormitory hall janitors who don't say hello back
------------
: Untitled :
: by John :
: Libertus :
: Austin :
------------
[Note: I found this hand written in a book while trashing. The author is on
classmates.com in a San antonio HiS in '59 -voronika]
It was a party
you know the kind -
The college kids
members of a group
Who don't give a damn
and don't care who knows it
Who knows their place in the cosmos
and are sick
with the knowledge
Getting strange kicks
(I've had a few - They're real)
in strange ways
Fast cars
Cool jazz
Stuff with a beat
with a dull rhythm
(I always thought it was the same
principle as the chinese water
torture, The retreat of a
Generation who understood, and
didn't want to - who saw through
eyes - they wished were blind)
So we chat about Freud
And existentialism
And the big lies
And the little lies
And the biggest of all
The one that says we matter -
Are we Bad?
Are we Good?
Does someone (Anyone, just anyone) care?
We're scared -
We're disappointed
(you know how your skin toughens
when it's continually prodded?
It's called a callous.)
We're developing a callous
We're trying to shrug off our
Hopelessness
And so we get our kicks
And Dad, we really blast
And go on emotional Jags
That leave us Beat
And thinking (Lord, how it hurts to think)
Well, at the party, as i said
In Jim's pad, 14 floors off Terra Firma
Leigh gets the bright idea
Glancing out the window
He points to the ledge beneath
14 floors of space below
crowned with a 5 inch strip of concrete
"You say you're not afraid of anything."
He said
I nodded
"Well, can you walk along that ledge
to the balcony? Just a 40 foot trip."
"Why not?" I said
And climbed out the window
into a night of neon signs
And taxi cabs
And the cold twinkle of stars
in the blackness above
Above the cool, black sidewalk
below
And i walked along the edge
(Small, 5 inch shadow along
the big empty shadow at my side
And the shadows seemed to mingle
in one all inclusive night
I put one foot before the
other [God, how dark it is], one
foot before the other)
And then the slip
And i grabbed at the wall
behind me
Which I couldn't hold
And my feet went out
from under me
And I fell
Gripping, as i did, the ledge
with my fingers
And i hung
There, with my feet suspended
Above the awful black
And i remember thinking:
"Things couldn't have gone this far,
This can't be irrevocable - I must
be able to do something!"
One by one, my fingers lost their grip
(God, The Blackness!)
Until that last aching moment....
Then i fell into the dark
------------------
: Another night :
: in the life... :
: by kool peith :
------------------
Angst happened 15 minutes ago. I park my car across the highway from campus,
so to not get a ticket for my permit-less car. I walk across the street on the
crosswalk. A bookbag filled with 30 pounds of shit sags my bookbag. Its
windy. Its late. I worked all day. Work sucked. Fuck this. I want to be
home now. I want to go to sleep. I want to play counterstrike. I want to
remove this day from my memory. Just walk home.
So I'm thinking all that, when this Acura rolls up on my as I make my way
across the crosswalk (Keep in mind that the road is 4 lanes wide). I'm not
moving slowly at all, but I hear these people saying "Man, could he move any
FUCKING SLOWER!" Yeah, the caps mean they yelled it. There were three other
insults hurled before I flagrantly rotate ninety degrees to display a full
frontal bird. Oh, boy, this was the biggest middle finger ever given! Within
three nanoseconds or something the whole car of 4 or 5 rich white kids erupts
in unconnected and illiterate strings of the words fuck and bitch. I don't
know what exactly they had against me walking across the street, but I had to
give them the middle finger, just to see what they would do. Its interesting
how most people in America deal with things. Usually when confronted with
ACTUAL CONFLICT, most white males from high income families seem to
instantaneously de-evolve into 6 year olds having a temper tantrum with the
testosterone of 10 fraternity brothers at a football game with strippers for
the halftime show. Thats a lot of moronic shit, my friend.
All I could compose myself to say was a few short words to deter the
destruction of those boys' car/lives. "Is this the most serious situation
you've ever been faced with? I'm walking in the crosswalk and you yell at me?
Why don't you get out of your 2000 lb. Acura mommy got you and tell me I'm a
faggot for walking to my face. Go home to your parents and call your
girlfriends. Go brag about how you fucked some asshole up tonight. I'm sure
she'll see the skin scraped off your knuckles." Oh man, do I dislike living in
this country. I kinda say that in jest, because I know how well off I am here
and how comfortable of a life I lead. But come on, All my life I've been
taking this shit for riding my bike and walking places. Its the materialism...
So who wants to tell me who had angst, and what the angst was? Check my take
on it in the next issue; A critical look at angst in its most common forms.
---------------
: Surprise Me :
: by wayne :
---------------
I WANT TO MAKE IT KNOWN THAT I DID NOT AGREE TO WRITING A FILE THAT IS NOT A
FREESTYLE!!!
Orchards full of earthquakes erupted while the planet shook in pain.
NO BODY REALLY LIKES YOUR NUMBER ONE VOTED FRIES OF AMERICA!
This last bit better be good.
Fuck your system, I just pissed in its engine.
-------------------
: Zombism's :
: Biggest Mystery :
: by ascii bat :
-------------------
"PRISONER 45C11, You've got a phone call."
"Hello?"
"Yo Ascii Bat! Guess who!?!"
"What do you want gir?"
"Well you know, the big ANGST THEME ISSUE of Angstmonster is coming up and I
was wondering if you'd wanna submit something."
"I've got nothing..."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'VE GOT NOTHING!?! YOU'RE A ZOMBIE AND YOU'RE IN JAIL!
HOW COULD IT GET ANY MORE ANGSTY!?!"
"Gir, do you know anything about zombies at all?"
"Yes..."
There was a pause. Finally I sigh.
"Alright gir. I'll get something to you."
"Do you wanna just give it to me over the phone and I'll transcribe it for
you?"
"Sure..."
"Ok, GO!"
"Much to the dismay of gir and everyone else, I am not an angsty zombie. Given
my situation I can understand where an extra punch of angst might be needed,
but that's not how it goes. As an advocator of Zombism, I am one with all
rotted flesh and do not worry about my own."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT A ZOMBIE RELIGION!? HOW CAN ZOMBIES HAVE RELIGION
WHEN THEY DON'T HAVE SOULS!?"
"Did you ever think that the soul was overrated? Maybe the flesh is the most
important part. Maybe there's something else about the makeup of humanoids
that is even more important."
"Like what?"
"That's for you to figure out gir. My time on the phone is ending, they're
doing cell inspections and I have to hide my stash of brains."
"Wait a minute, it's brains isn't it!?!"
"Maybe next time, you'll find out gir. Keep in touch."
--------------
: THE RETURN :
: OF ZHIXEL :
--------------
It's the angst issue! Yeah! And I'm gonna give some of the angstiest angsty
teen angst EVER put down on text for you to lovingly devour. If nobody commits
suicide from reading this shit, I'll be completely disapointed.
Beforehand though, I feel it is my duty as a herald of angst and an
angstmonster writer to explain my extended vacation from writing. My last
article for angstmonster was in #17, the infamous LAST ISSUE EVER. No one
informed me that this wasn't true and that we were coming back from the dead
like some literary zombies. Gir only recently bothered to track me down to my
secret villa in the mountains of Germany. I'm not sure how he got past my robot
attack ninjas, but as he lay there, his leg being gnawed on by one of my guard
dogs, he asked me if I had anything to contribute to angstmonsters ANGST issue.
I was caught off guard by his request, thinking angstmonster was gone for good,
so all I could do was dig up some sad, partially IRC influenced haiku I wrote
as a teenager. Enjoy.
x.x.x.x.x. BRING IT ON HAIKU STYLE .x.x.x.x.x
Your ignorance hurts
I am driven by my pain
I want it to stop
Talking of nothing
Inane babbling fills ears
I am going mad
zhix the magic cat
is learning to use his claws
exercise caution
I hate all of you
Where is a large shard of glass
to thrust myself on?
Rendered with no voice
My screaming falls on deaf ears
We are all doomed
I live on a farm
Dairy cows will get milked
work will never end
Gwen is now Salix
Leading vast nanotech armys
Bow to her splendor
Skrike is a raver
I am in phear of his pants
They are amazing.
barkode has red hair
he's sending people flowers
zhix doesn't get it.
you drive a beetle
it's silver and very fast
I really dig it
patch will give backrubs
but she will also flip zhix off
very confusing
---------------
: Frostfest :
: by ch33z-1t :
---------------
As you may have heard before, gir and I tried out being speaker salesmen.
Speaker selling is the hardest profession that one can be in. This is my
speaker-filled story of the "Frostfest" of 2003. I wake up at 4:20 to take a
shower and to get to Roadie's by 5:00. This being a problem for me,
considering I usually am up by 8. We bring our millions of speakers in,
knowing we will sell them all, I mean who goes to a Hamfest and doesn't want to
buy speakers? I'll tell you, EVERYONE!!! No one wanted to buy our speakers.
We started at 15 dollars for a pair, including power supply, which is a
reasonable price considering they sell for 40 dollars in stores. This price
dropped quick, as no one bought any for many hours. People came up and asked
about the speakers just to piss us off. We had this one guy who kept hanging
around looking at our speakers. He obviously wanted to buy a pair, but he kept
taunting us. Poking and prodding at our merchandise. I think I knew he was
fucking with us when he picked up a sound card. I promptly responded to this
by saying "You know that goes great with a pair of speakers!" He looked at me
with hell in his eyes and then he jumped over the table and bashed my head in
with his T.X. corroborator. He was relentless, it was awful. After he was
wrestled to the ground, by a midget with down syndrome, wearing a nurse's
uniform, I was able to sell speakers again. At this time the price was all the
way down to 5 dollars. Still no one would buy any speakers. We even made
signs promoting angstmonster and no one even cared. Then it happened, an old
man came up and I burst out with "Are you tired of your wife's saggy breasts?
If so, stop and buy a pair of speakers for 5 dollars." He stopped and gave me
the look of evil, then puzzled he said "Did you say a pair of sneakers form 5
dollars?" "Nope, I said speakers" "Oh" "Pretty hard to walk away from a deal
like that." While walking away, he muttered "Yep, it is." This really pissed
me off. We still hadn't sold a pair, so we dropped the price yet again. This
time it was dropped to 2 dollars, which turned out to be the moving price. We
ended up selling three pairs by the end of the fest. Then this french bastard
comes up and says he wants to buy 12 pairs and he wanted a deal. I wanted to
beat the shit out of the guy, but Roadie held me back. We ended up selling him
9 pairs for 15 dollars. I felt dirty, that guy should have been charged more
for being a frenchie. Gir and I failed as speaker salesman. We brought in a
little over 20 dollars in speaker sales. What a piece of shit business, how
could you ever want to live in a world where people don't want speakers? I
hope I never have to be a part of that place. Though I feel that in 10 years,
people will just stop needing speakers. Gir and I will die and angstmonster
will follow suite. If you don't want this to happen. Please send Gir money
over paypal and we will send you a complimentary mint.
THE ANGST MAY END WITH THE NOBLE TRUTH!
<oregano2k> yea, there on the second day
<oregano2k> did monster lie with lover
<oregano2k> and it was good
<oregano2k> then on the night of the second day
<oregano2k> did lover say to monster
<oregano2k> you never write textfiles for me
<oregano2k> and monster did say to lover
<oregano2k> I only write for the people
<oregano2k> and then all was good
<oregano2k> the end
æææææææææææææææææææ
æ Æfterthought(s) æ
æææææææææææææææææaæ
A couple years ago on New Years Eve, Papa Roach played a party at MTV Studios.
They covered Nirvana's "Lithium" and later the lead singer said "If it wasn't
for Nirvana, bands like us wouldn't be here." What he meant to say was "HI!
FEEL MY PAIN! NO WAIT! YOU CAN'T FEEL MY PAIN BECAUSE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, YOU DON'T...
UNDERSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!"
I proceeded to jump through my tv set and kick him in the face. I then gave
him this advice.
"DON'T YOU EVER COVER NIRVANA AGAIN! I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE WITH MY
FUCKING GUN!"
To my knowledge, they haven't played a Nirvana tune since.
But don't worry, in two weeks, we'll all be back to our normal selves.
_____
/ |\ |\ /\ |\ |
\ | | |/ |/ < > |/ | *
/ |_| | | \/ |\ | *
http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers/ !CHEESENCRACKERS!
http://www.neo-comintern.com *THE NEO-COMINTERN*
http://turd.angstmonster.org THE UNDEAD RISE, DAMMIT!
http://www.textscene.com CURRENT TEXTFILE SCENE
?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?
What you have just read was a step into the unknown spontaneous and poorly
edited thoughts for sharing collectively known as "Angstmonster." All thoughts
on the matter can be sent to <gir@angstmonster.org> or you can just visit the
site http://www.angstmonster.org and see what you think. Submissions of all
sorts are welcome! Everything from prose and poetry to rants and opinions,
creative text art, recipes for yummy food, reviews of stuff, etc.
Thanks and enjoy your day...
copy-spwep 2003 issue 23
angstmonster.org 03.24.03
Feel free to redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any
part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. (and stuff)
