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Angstmonster 13
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* 11.18.02 angstmonster issue 13 *
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¡edited (poorly) by gir¡
Perhaps we could use it to strengthen our starcruisers!
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
+ +
+ Brief Words from gir +
+ The Story of How The Villagers Tried To Expand Their Market steak +
+ Noodle! tildaq +
+ +
+ ¡SPECIAL SUB ZINE APPEARANCE BY THE GLUE FACTORY GOES HERE¡ +
+ +
+ Make Sure It Say 550 gir +
+ If I Only Had All The Answers ch33z-1t +
+ Compressionary Causes koolpeith +
+ I Am Jack's Opinion On The Matter gir +
+ +
§+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§
mr jay: You sleep too much all the tiem.
mr jay: tiem*
gir: DARE YOU SPELL TIME!?!??!
mr jay: Fuck it, that's how it's spelled now.
---------------
: Brief Words :
: From gir :
---------------
Earlier tonight I had something to write about but figured I'd save it until
all the other important things were taken care of. For some reason, this issue
of angstmonster happens to include an insert issue of "The Glue Factory." It
seems that this is the first (and most certainly not the last) subzine to be
found in the annals of angstmonster. Whether it be theme zines thought up by
the writers of angstmonster at a later point in time, or random mini issues of
zines put out by our friends like brian and steak*, we promise you, oh humble
reader of angstmonster, an occasional issue of something completely different.
Maybe it's just filler you say. Then again, maybe we're onto a neat idea.
Either way, it's something I think more about as time goes on. (Or like a few
other supposed reoccurring ideas I had planned, it'll never surface again!)
In other news, I've been listening to too much björk. It's not a bad thing,
just a sighful thing. But there are moments in the middle of the night, at
three am, that make it worth it I suppose.
I was helping Estell carry stuff to her car tonight and as I tend to do, I
looked up at the stars as I tend to do and there weren't as many of them. Due
to the moon being really bright, the brightest I'd ever seen it. Estell made
some comment about the lack of stars in the city and it made me think of every
night I come home from work and gaze at the stars on my way inside.
And then, three hours pass. Here I am with little to say, and even less of a
way to connect it all.
That's why there are other people writing for angstmonster. In case stuff like
this should happen.
As always, eat it up!
*brian of cheesencrackers and steak of addendum fame!
---------------------------
: The Story Of How :
: The Villagers Tried :
: To Expand Their Market :
: by steak :
---------------------------
Once upon a time there was this huge giant that lived in a castle all by
himself. He was a gentle giant, he didn't really do much, he liked to get on
with his life and not have many people bothering him. He would spend his days
having fun and running around outside with the birds and the butterflies. In
essence his life was good, he didn't eat small children and he didn't grind
their bones to make his bread.
Now this giant, he needed something to survive, oatmeal. In the Vietnam war he
had been genetically modified by our government to need this to survive, If he
didn't have oatmeal he would die a slow and painful death. (This makes his
story even more harrowing and depressing than it already is. 'The poor giant'
you are meant to think 'How did he survive with such a deficiency?' is another
thing you are meant to think)
Now in the garden the giant had a tree, this tree was a special oatmeal tree
that would provide him with oatmeal once a week. Not much, just a small amount.
Just enough for him to live on and that was it. So this seemed all ok, the
giant had this deficiency that required him to eat oatmeal, but it's ok because
he had an oatmeal tree, so he could eat all the oatmeal he needed to stay
alive. But you see, there was one single little problem that the giant often
experienced. Whenever he ate oatmeal he would suddenly get massive spasmodic
fits. They were in the long term totally harmless, but for the half hour that
they lasted they were like having one of those paralysing nightmares on a bad
trip coated with rat poison. Suddenly all is not as good as it was two
paragraphs before hand.
But luckily there was a remedy, if the oatmeal was mixed with apples before
being eaten by the giant then it no longer causes these hellish experiences.
But there was still a problem; you see the giant's castle didn't have the right
soil to grow apples, so he has to buy them from the villagers a short walk down
the road.
What did the villagers want in return for these apples? Oatmeal. That's right
the one thing in the world that the giant needed to survive, the thing that he
needed to pay the rent with, the thing that he needed to pay for his college
education with (whoops, getting less and less metaphorical by the second there
folks, my mistake) But the villagers didn't need it to survive, no they just
thought that it looked nice when strategically spread around their garden.
So what did these evil villagers do to get as much oatmeal as possible off the
giant so that every single little villager could have a nice looking garden?
They formed the 'Association Developed by Villagers Encouraging Rights to Trade
Items Sellable En-Route to Shoppers' or 'ADVERTISERS' for short. And they spent
their entire life developing new, dastardly and underhanded ways of selling the
apples to the giant. Any way they could get him to swap his life giving oatmeal
for apples they would try it, no matter if it went against every moral
principle. No matter if it hurt, maimed or killed someone, they didn't care
they would do it all.
Can you believe what it must be like to live in a society filled with those
kind of people? I feel so lucky to not be a part of all and not to have to live
in a world where people take things that we should have for free and mutate
them and make it so that it's some sort of commercial privilege to own them
while constantly shoving advertisements down our throat trying to manipulate
and deceive us into buying things that we don't need. I live in magical land.
-------------
: Noodle! :
: by tildaq :
-------------
RAMEN:
So I borrowed some Rameen from a dude named Mavis. I washed my bowl out and
proceeded to heat up my Ramen. After I begin eating my Ramen, Mavis comes into
my dorm room and says, "Eeeewww! There's too much water in that Ramen!" I was
like, "What biatch? You wanna go?" He continued to insult my Ramen-making
skills and claiming that there was simply too much H20 around my noodles.
I kicked Mavis in the noodle!
I kicked Mavis in the noodle!
It's smaller than a poodle's NOOODLE!
FRUITYLOOPS:
I just discovered how to use my keyboard as a piano! It responds like a CAT! IT
TAKES FOREVER! You can't possibly play along with something and have stay on
beat.....
PIRATES:
Don't you hate when pirates take over your ship and rape your women? How so,
can I borrow a jumbled up bumble. Trinity is all anyone ever has to wonder upon
when living among pirates.
§-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§-§
"Sometimes, I think you want me to touch you
How can I when you build the great wall around you
In your eyes, I saw a future together
You just look away in the distance."
"China" by Tori Amos.
§-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§-§
!!!ATENTTION!!! ¡SUB ZINE ALERT¡ !!!ATENTION!!!
It's true, the next two articles are in fact articles intended for THE GLUE
FACTORY, an ezine for horses and horse lovers. However, they are presented to
you here in angstmonster as a gift to all the loyal fans. We know about your
"MY LITTLE PONY" collection. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Really...
Anyways, enjoy the horseplay!
!!!ATENTTION!!! ¡SUB ZINE ALERT¡ !!!ATENTION!!!
--^= < > /`'`\
\= < THE GLUE FACTORY > |. \....
---------\ < > \ '`'`'`\
/ \ \ < stolen from stogee > \ | \
\ / < > `.......' `
< the horse zine > /\ /\
< > / \ / \
Hi pals and palominos!!! This edition of The Glue Factory must come to you
from this small but homey shack. You see, lightning struck our good old
stables and burned them to a crisp. Luckily our horses, being of sound mind
and body, managed to escape the flaming death. Next time we'll build the
horses a castle of brick, not a barn of wood.
In the mean time, enjoy some great literature from this century's greatest new
horsewriters!
lb
===============================================================================
Contents:
I. An Excerpt From "Life Science" by nyar
II. The Dangers Of Rollerskating by oregano
III. canteR by estell
IV. BOTCH! by gir
===============================================================================
I.
An Excerpt From "Life Science"
by nyar
Excerpt from the textbook "Life Science", Ed Rindel (editor), 5th edition, 1999
Chapter 7: Evolution
7.4 The Evolution of our Species
7.4.1 The Dawn of our Family
As described in previous sections, the age of dinosaurs ended abruptly 65
million years ago. Contrary to popular beliefs, an "age of mammals" did not
immediately take hold. While mammals did come to eventually dominate
terrestrial life, it took time for this to happen. The mammals of this time
were small creatures, similar to modern day rodents, lagomorphs and mustelids.
In fact, fossils found in what is now South America show a land once dominated
by avians. Figure 11 shows a drawing of a phororhacid eating a relatively
small mammal. These birds reigned triumphant over the local marsupial
mammalians.
Regardless of what happened in South America, mammals eventually formed into
representatives of the orders we know of today, such as primates, carnivores,
equines and cetaceans. Early members of our own order, which began about 55
million years ago are depicted in Figure 12. Note that they have begun to
show some of the traits of our own species, but that they still appear
somewhat primitive and similar to the ancestral mammals.
The offshoot of our order that led to our family and species differentiated
itself about 4 million years ago. Figure 12 shows early members of our family.
The first tool use of stone tools was approximately 1 million years ago. The
hand axe shown in Figure 13 is representative of these primitive, but useful
artifacts.
It is interesting to note that it appears that there was another order of
mammals that also appeared to be developing rudimentary use of tools. The
creatures, known as hominids, appear to be an unsuccessful branch of the
primate order related to the modern day apes, such as gorillas and
chimpanzees. The question of whether these primates were on the road to
sentience is one of the greatest debates in modern evolutionary biology. These
hominids became extinct roughly 1.5 million years ago.
So we have seen how our own genus has evolved from ancient animals, to the
first member of our order the Hyracotherium (previously known as Eohippus -
the dawn horse) to early members of our own line.
* * * * * * * * *
The preceding work of fiction is dedicated in memory of Stephen Jay Gould.
===============================================================================
II.
The Dangers Of Rollerskating
by oregano
Growing up my father used to tell this story. My dad only has three stories
about his childhood, all of them are rather tame and staid, but this one at
least starts out promising: The time my dad broke his leg by rollerskating
into a horse.
On a cold winter day when the family was forced to be inside is when dad
first told the story. We were talking about broken bones, and I rattled off
all my injuries. Being a rather active and adventurous child I managed to
break various limbs before age 10. And we went around and told of our whoas
and then dad said that when he was a child he was out rollerskating and ran
into a horse and broke his ankle. As children we were delighted to hear such a
tale, horses in the streets of Chicago and father somehow hitting one, and then
breaking his ankle, what is not to delight to in such a tale. We quizzed him
about rollerskates and he told us how these were ones that you attach to your
regular street shoes, and were, back then, extra dangerous. But then we ruined
things, we asked about the horse, and why it was on his street. That is where
the story fell apart and our great dreams of the mounted police or cowboys and
indians were dashed.
It seems that the horse that our father crashed to -- in an uncontrolled
bout of street rollerskating -- was not the horse upon which the cowboys rode,
or the ones Chicago cops used to keep law and order in a Chicago street mob.
Nope this was a simple wooden horse used to block off the street. I think now
we'd call it a barricade, or a "flashing light thingie used to block off a
street." But to my dad it was a horse, and for a few brilliant moments we
children had thought of my dad having a fantastic adventure, man vs. horse, the
struggles of nature and man's place in a world, but like all childhood dreams
it was dashed on the rocky shore of reality. Good that not all childhood
stories end in such disillusionment or this world would be that sadder a place.
For one shining moment our dad had rollerskated into a horse.
the end
===============================================================================
III.
canteR
by estell
So I sit down in the local coffee house with my friend quartknee and I ask her
how to successfully execute the woman on top position. See I had been having
issues with my boyfriend wanting me on top all the time and I just wasn't good
at it. So I consulted the only person I felt comfortable asking. She looks at
me and says "You know that's really the only way I can get off during sex I'm
surprised you haven't experimented with it more." I explain my preference for
other positions that don't need this kind of explaining and we carry on. She
begins to draw a diagram and we both become confused as legs start becoming
like jello and quartknee starts wondering how it really is that this phenomenon
occurs. Then she figures out the dimensions and I see that I've just been
sitting all wrong. Amazing. She continues that my boy toy needs to be
elevated as well at a slight angle achieved by approximately three pillows and
that my knees should be near my chest not on the bed so as to make a pressure
less stressful on the thigh muscles. Amazing I think! It looks so easy. But
what about the motion. She looks at me and smiles. "Ever ridden a horse?" she
asks. "Well, just canter."
===============================================================================
IV.
BOTCH!
by gir
"You've probably never ridden a horse before. Roll a horse riding check."
I wake up out of a half daze. To me it seems like everyone else is falling
asleep. It's 6 am, why are we still playing? Why am I still here?
Regardless, I roll.
I rolled a 1. I botched.
"Botch."
I call out to the dungeon master with a half hearted, half tired, sigh.
"Ok, you fall off your horse."
For being a ruthless DM, this one is pretty forgiving. Usually, a
botch in combat just meant dropping your weapon, or like in this instance,
falling off a horse. I've heard stories of far worse fates resulting from a
botch.
Either way, I slip out of consciousness again. The DM never says that I got
back up on the horse.
Sometime later I wakeup and our party is in the middle of combat with a nasty
dragon. I take a couple of nasty hits each round and drop below the point of
no return.
I'm really bitter about it for the rest of the morning. None of the other
party members care that I died, it just means they'll get a hold of my items.
At this point, I'm too tired to mention to the DM that I never got back up on
my horse to ride into battle.
Instead, I wake up enough to drive myself home and go back to sleep. Who cares
if my 7th level sorcerer can't ride a horse? I can drive while I'm half
asleep!
==============================================================================
!!!ATTENTION!!! ¡END SUB ZINE NOW¡ !!!ATTENTION!!!
If you, oh faithful reader of angstmonster, were very much confused by that
last bit, fear not. We return you to the wonderful, mythical world of
angstmonster with an oregano moment. Sorry for all the confusion!
!!!ATTENTION!!! ¡END SUB ZINE NOW¡ !!!ATTENTION!!!
0=<=>=<=>=<=>=AN=<=>=<=>=OREGANO=<=>=<=>=<=>=MOMENT=<=>=<=>=<=>=0
<oregano2k> maybe if USA invaded in WWII, instead of bombing,
there would be a lot more japanese in Heaven right now
0=<=>=<=>=<=>=AN=<=>=<=>=OREGANO=<=>=<=>=<=>=MOMENT=<=>=<=>=<=>=0
-------------
: Make Sure :
: It Says :
: 550 :
: by gir :
-------------
"I'm wearing pajama pants!
I'm wearing pajama pants!
Watch me do this little dance,
in the name of my pajama pants!
I'm wearing pajama pants!
I'm wearing pajama pants!
Why's that you ask?"
Wait. Does pants rhyme with ask? Could I fake it if I had to?
"What the hell are you singing?"
"The pajama pants song. It's going to rock when I'm done with it!"
"It doesn't rock now?"
"Well, right now it's just a hecka sweet chorus. I'm not sure where that
leaves me though. I want it to be a serious song. You know, I mean I take
pride in my pajama pants."
"You know it's almost 6pm on a Friday and you're still in your pajamas. Not
only that, but you're running around the house singing about it."
"Yeah, isn't it great?"
"Don't you have something more constructive you could be doing? Like your
job?"
"First off, I worked last night and happen to have today off. Don't worry, I
work tomorrow. Nextly, fabricating the world's greatest owe to these pajama
pants is no ordinary task! Did you even notice how cool these pants are? How
many other pajama pants do you know of with cargo pockets!?"
"Why do you need cargo pockets on your pajamas?"
"That's just you, in fact, that's the grumpy you asking that question. The you
I you I've talked into the early morning about the Sneetches with, that's the
you I want to talk to about pajama pants. If she's not available, I'll just
leave a message for her and she can get back to me when she's around."
"You got to stop smoking whatever it is you're on."
"No, no, I'll just wait for the beep Miss Grumpy Ass."
"Why do you have to act this way sometimes?"
"That didn't sound like a beep to me!"
She sighs.
"Considering everything we've been through together, you're a real asshole
sometimes."
"What's that Misses Answering Machine? You've got an expanded memory!?!?
That's terrific!"
"Ok, I'll do it..."
"So how is your ma, Bell, anyways?"
"I SAID I'LL DO IT!"
"Oh ok, well let me get this message for my friend going. Ready?"
"Beeeeeeeeep."
It didn't even sound like a real answering machine. But every time I got her
to beep, it sounded really funny. And she knew how cute she was when she made
nonsensical noises.
"Umm, hey it's me. You know we've been going through a heck of a rough period
lately and it's hard on the both of us. I just wanted to let you know about
what I've been doing today. I woke up and danced around the house to the tape
you made me. It's about worn out from overuse... Anyways, I was dancning
around in my pajama pants that you got me last year. I really like them. I'm
pretty sure I've told you about how cool it was to find pajama pants that had
cargo pants, and better yet, that you got them for me. I really appreciate
you. I just want you to know that. You, who taught me to dance around the
house, to enjoy the little things no matter what. Most of all, it's dancing
with you that I miss. Not just the slow dances, but the 'drag your partner
around the house unwillingly' dances too. I really miss that. I regret the
fact that there hasn't been any dancing like that in the house lately. Maybe
I'll get a chance to talk to you later though. I miss you and still love you
very much. 'Night."
I dunno if she was expecting that. I wasn't really either. I had planned to
just sing the pajama pants song to her a few more times and continue dancing
around the house until she walked out for the night. But enough of that. I
was serious when I said dancing around the house by yourself is really lonely.
-------------------
: If Only I Had :
: All The Answers :
: by ch33z-1t :
-------------------
Zimbobwe has many problems, but Ethiopia is not one of them. The main problem
is they don't have enough raspberries. Raspberries are vital to zimbabwean
culture. If you think about that past statement it made no sense, and neither
will the next one. When holding a man's penis be sure to flatulate on Gir. I
probably should be studying, but CS doesn't thrill me like pooping on a
half-eaten squirrel. If I was to make a new menu I wouldn't. I would say
penises don't like menus and neither do I. It's funny to see two ugly people
flirt. This guy needs a shave and a confidence booster in his smoothie, & the
girl has got to be the dorkiest girl I have ever seen. Did yall like that
confidence booster in the smoothie joke? Only certain people may get the joke.
Moving on, I wish I could have carved a pumpkin this year. I just never got
around to buying one.
------------------
: Compressionary :
: Causes :
: by koolpeith :
------------------
Last night I encountered a rather rare and peculiar alert from Windows using
the media player to open an avi file; the good ole' "you don't have the
friggin codec, ya dickhead." Well, okay, omit the dickhead part for
historical accuracy, but I think you, as an angstmonster reader, are aware
that Bill Gates isn't going to set himself up for a lawsuit that easily. I
checked the file name and found "Xvid" instead of the usual "DivX". I read
about Xvid about a month ago in attempts to find the best/easiest tool to
encode dvd rips, but Xvid seemed much too hard for my XP-using-ass to learn
to use. After a short search to find the latest cut of this open source
program, I downloaded and promptly installed an Xvid codec built on October
28th of this year. Thats fairly fuckin recent. The video quality is
stellar at best; Kudos to all the h4x0r5 who've been spending time refining
this compression tool. Just so you know, the movie I watched was the Joshua
Hartnett movie, 40 Days and 40 Nights. All the boobies they show are
crystal clear.
Analysis of Kool Peith based on what he just wrote:
Jeezus. What a shut in. How much time does he actually spend sitting at
his computer? He's a college student, right? What ever happened to the
reading, the essays, the PEOPLE??? I remember that audio ripping binge he
had when his roommate told him that the highest quality algorithm in Lame
produced a smaller file size. Cd's were everywhere. If he were motionless
for like 10 minutes they could've filmed a scene for that movie "Seven." I
could see his desktop flashing "waste", "obsession", or "pirating" in
inverted black and white while his eyes drain blood from the epileptic
seizures. If KoolPeith got a dime for every day which he neglected homework
in favor of collecting audio or video media, the U.S. Mint would need to
press a shitload more dimes.
______________________
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0=<=>=<=>=SOME=<=>=<=>=IRC=<=>=<=>=MOMENTS=<=>=<=>=0
<swissphil> FUCK YOU STARING AT THE SEA disc
<swissphil> NEVER SKIP ON A FOREST
<swissphil> AGAIN
<delchi> YES BUT THINGS THAT ARE NOT PIE, ARE NOT PIE
<Quarex> "Level 5 Gundam: repeated the third grade."
<Quarex> "Level 3 gundam: I pooped my pants."
<cstone> YOU DON'T IMPRESS ME EITHER, ACROBUP
0=<=>=<=>=SOME=<=>=<=>=IRC=<=>=<=>=MOMENTS=<=>=<=>=0
---------------
: I Am Jack's :
: Opinion On :
: The Matter :
: by gir :
---------------
I was sitting at a table awfully close to the mic and sipping on what was to be
my third cup of coffee. (Everyone loves free refills!) And as I took the
first sip, Jack Kerouac appeared to my side and starting talking to me.
Jittery like no other, he says,
"Man, you can't read anything until you have 10 cups of coffee."
"But I've only had three."
And I was starting to feel them all hit me like a rush. In fact, when I was
getting my third cup, I knew it was a bad idea but it didn't matter because I
needed to wake up so I could read my story.
"I know this, but you can't go up there until you've had 10 cups of coffee."
"They're going to end it soon. I won't be able to drink that much in time."
"Yeah you will. Listen, I made all of this. It is here because of me. I
know-"
"What are you talking about? All of this here is because of you?"
"It is! I'm Jack Kerouac, the man who sold a million pairs of jeans, and
taught every reckless youth to backpack across the country with their favorite
paperback dogeared and tucked away in their back pocket."
"But how? All you did was sit in front of your type writer and pound away with
your endless spools of paper. Then when you were done with that, you'd go
drinking with friends. Not exactly an evening well spent at the local coffee
house."
"THAT DOESN'T MATTER! OH MAN HOW THAT DOESN'T MATTER! If I had it my way, I'd
be up here playing a typewriter! OH MAN, HOW THE JAZZMEN PLAYED THEIR
INSTRUMENTS, I'D PLAY MY TYPEWRITER LIKE THAT!"
"Definitely. I'd wanna play the keyboard, but not the musical kind, the typing
kind. Furious, like the firing neurons of every erratic thinker."
"See kid, you know what I'm saying. You should get up there."
"But Jack, I haven't had 10 cups of coffee yet."
"That's right, you haven't! I'll go get you another!"
"There's no way I'm drinking 10 cups of coffee."
"But you have to, otherwise you can't stand up there and tell em your story!"
"Not on 10 cups coffee."
"Nah, man. GO GO GO! DRINK!"
At this point, the people running the open mic night were making a last call on
anyone interested in reading. The hostess was going on about this being the
last night for a good while and it was just one of those feelings I got where I
had to get up, even if I was 7 cups of coffee short of Jack's goal. But that
really doesn't matter much to me. I was never a huge fan of his. In fact,
it's just my like that the writer from that time period I only sorta liked not
nearly as much as some of his peers would appear to me in a coffee induced
illusion and try to sell me more coffee.
All the same, against the wishes of Jack I got up and said I'd read something.
It wasn't the story I intended to read though. It was nothing like that at all,
and instead it started like this: "So I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and
all of a sudden Jack Kerouac appears on my shoulder and tells me I can't come
up here until I've had 10 cups of coffee..."
When I was done retelling my story, everyone was laughing and applauding but
Jack was no where to be found. And as the crowd begin to thin out, I went to
get myself another cup of coffee, my fourth and final one for the night.
§-§-§-ANOTHER-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§
"As much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind perhaps
Spending little time with you"
"Possibly Maybe" by Björk.
§-§-§-ANOTHER-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§
æææææææææææææææææaæ
æ Æfterthought(s) æ
æææææææææææææææææææ
It's light outside. Through the cracks of the shades, there's a dingy sunrise
of what I'd pretend is orange fog hanging over the trees the way most things
hang over trees when they've got a case of the Mondays and want to slip back
into a really cozy spot. But when you think about it, the clouds, the fog,
they're always doing what they can to get higher back into the sky. Their
lazy aspiration is an unintentional reaching for the stars.
::snap::
?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿
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. (But I won't promise
any content to anyone.) 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...
copyright 2002 issue 13
angstmonster.org 11.18.02
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)
