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- [ C R A C K E R S ]
cheese'n crackers
[DE-CYPHERED, stupid.]
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our
minds."
- Bob Marley, prophet
( Season 1; Episode 2 )
( Official Air Date: Tuesday 11/11/02 [Eleventh of November, 2002 C.E. )
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
founder & editor :
brian
issue's contributing writers :
brian <brian@bubblemonkey.org>
matt <atarisrioter@aol.com>
Cyber Sammy <??????@???????>
Billy Sped <??????@???????>
guest appearance by
gir [of www.angstmonster.org] <gir@angstmonster.org>
--> send submissions & comments to brian <brian@bubblemonkey.org>
--> anything is acceptable though not necessarily publishable.
--> =\~
ISSUE [002-lippy.txt] REMINDER(S) =
-% again, print this file up and read it. it looks so much better.
-% submissions are welcome. i do all of the editing myself and the few
pieces i DO receive are very appreciated. word to gir and matt.
-% read everything and comment to me about what you thought.
!!!!!! URL 2 US = http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers !!!!!!
We went and asked Alice and she sayz:
"ONCE YOU START DOING IT, YOU CAN'T STOP!
I read the first issue and was hooked on
it like I was uppers, acid, and goofies."
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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR :
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
I received an IM on AIM one day, from brandon's ex-girlfriend (topanga), who
is making references to something i printed at the bottom of the first issue
(001-cannibal.txt) and the conversation went like . . .
(NOTE: fanking - me
blam zap boom - sally/topanga
qbert - brandon)
{
blam zap boom: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa\
/////// ////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////
//////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////j¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
////////////////////////j peace to brandon.
////////////////////////j scrimps 4 life.
////////////////////////j www.bubblemonkey.org 4 the future.
////////////////////////j topanga eats salty negro nuts.
////////////////////////j________________________________________
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa \
blam zap boom: .............................................
blam zap boom: BRIAN YOU SHIT.
fanking: =[
blam zap boom: brian,*
blam zap boom: what the hell is that for, huh?
blam zap boom: OH, THAT'S RIGHT. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
fanking: inside joke we have concerning this one television show
blam zap boom: UHH
blam zap boom: IT HITS ALITTLE TOO CLOSE TO MY HOME, DARLINK.
fanking: it's probably a coincidence
fanking: long time ago
fanking: i was at fhm.com
fanking: looking at pix
blam zap boom: qbert: omg brian dissed you
blam zap boom: YOU DON'T LISTEN
blam zap boom: EVER.
qbert: on his site
fanking: and brandon was talking to me
blam zap boom: DIZZED.
fanking: no liek
fanking: brandon took that the wrong way
blam zap boom: yes?
blam zap boom: uh
blam zap boom: my nick was topanga
blam zap boom: my exboyfriend is brandon
blam zap boom: LOOK AT THAT PARAGRAPH.
fanking: i'll talk to brandon pdq
blam zap boom: UH DER.
fanking: wait who is this?
blam zap boom: why?
blam zap boom: oh my god.
blam zap boom: it's me, sally.
blam zap boom: jackass.
fanking: i'm sorry i thought you were ellen
blam zap boom: sally = kanga = topanga
fanking: ok right
blam zap boom: >:o
fanking: the girl brandon was going out with?
blam zap boom: yes... i went out with brandon for a very long time.
fanking: and ellen is the girl he made fun of you to
fanking: i thought you were brandon's mistress
fanking: i thought your screen name was like
blam zap boom: huh?
fanking: kangaroooo
blam zap boom: i still have that one, yeah.
blam zap boom: but i like this one better.
fanking: oh okay
fanking: well i got that quote from brandon anyway
fanking: he was really stoned this one night with ellen
fanking: and he liek
fanking: i guess made that up
fanking: she knew you or something
blam zap boom: i don't know an "ellen
fanking: it was a while ago
fanking: back when we had scrimps
blam zap boom: whatever, bye.
fanking: see ya sally =[~
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Previous message was not received by blam zap boom because of error:
User blam zap boom is not available.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
}
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THE PREAMBLE IN A SENSE DEPT.
I really didn't think I'd make it to issue two. Most of the projects I start,
I seldomly ever finish. But I did, and just barely, I might add. The stories
were JUST finished, on the day it was due out. It doesn't matter anymore,
though, because here it is, pulped up and ready to read.
It's Veteran's Day today. Good for them, you know? It's nice to see some
soldiers getting recognition. War is good. Kill people. Slaughter races.
GENOCIDE FOREVER!
KILL THE ENEMY!
I tried calling Pakistan and Iraq last night, but was unable to get connected.
There is a conspiracy, you know, and nobody even realizes it! JESUS CHRIST
am I the only one who can see this?
Since I didn't get a hold of the Middle East, I called Germany and talked to
some folks in Hamburg. I don't speak German, but it was fun fucking around
with them anyway. You should try it sometime. I don't remember the country
or city codes for Germany, but I do remember that to dial Lyon, France, you
dial 011 33 472 XX XX XX XX. That is all.
Enjoy the magazine and send me your thoughts on the issue.
P.S. My editing on this issue was very lazy, so if you see errors, pardon me,
I didn't want to overwork myself for the few people who actually read this.
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
THE DID THAT REALLY HAPPEN DEPT.
The Magnificent Venture
Part I of II
(Based on a true story)
by brian
All I had on my back was nine borrowed cigarettes, forty-three dollars, and
an ounce of chronic weed that was fronted to me by my friend, Rye. The plan
was that I would sneak out of my bedroom--I had it all laid-out and drawn-up to
each precise second--around 2:30 A.M. that morning. Already dressed, I'd throw
off my bedsheets, pull out my packed bag from under the bed, and tip-toe down
the staircase. When the rumbling beat of your heart encompasses the atmosphere
around you and strikes like thunder in your mind, you have to find ways to a-
void the pressure. Me, I just counted each step as I walked down, gently
pressing down on the banister-side of the stairwell, thereby avoiding the
creaking and cracking old houses usually are alluded to.
After rolling my parents' Lumina down the driveway, cautiously on the look-
out of lights turning on, dead silence my entire focus, I started it up, lit
up a smoke, and headed off on the road, nothing stopping me except the pure
flow of my adrenaline and the anticipation of where I'll be waking up. All I
knew at that point was that I was free and my next stop was Apple Valley, Cali-
fornia.
* * *
The sun came out of hiding around 5:21 A.M., right as I had passed the Ore-
gon state border, and it looked truly beautiful. I'm not usually awake by this
time of the morning so I considered it a blessing to be a spectator. I-5 South
was as clear as the wide-open canvas that it was.
I had already smoked ten cigarettes and, being a minor, I was going to have
a little trouble buying some more. The money situation had sustained up to
this point and, thus far, I've only smoked a bowl or two of my stash. All in
all, things were working out just as they'd been planned.
My elbow hung loosely out the window, the breeze of hauling a car 75 mph
down the freeway crashing into my skin, and when you're alone with hours upon
hours to spare, you find that you have a lot of time to just sit and reflect.
I don't exactly know where he lives, but I do know it's somewhere in Apple Val-
ley, and going any further south, you'd be bumping into Pedro in Me-hee-co.
And what about my parents? I wonder if they know I'm gone yet. I wonder
if they'll miss me or if they'll rejoice. You think they'll call the cops? Or
ask all my friends? At this point, there's nothing I can do, so why care?
As far as they know, I'm on my way to Canada. After all:
"Why would Ryan go to California?"
Or how about:
"Ryan's probably on his way to Canada so he can smoke that dope there and
get away with it."
My dad the Nazi, I swear to Christ.
What do they know?
And, oh yeah, my friends. They're probably just doing the same old, prob-
ably forgot I had left--I find I don't make quite the impact I always think I
do. In fact, I'm rather nothing, I really am. I'm just me, you know?
GODDAMNIT MOM! Why do you force me to do these things? I'm not a bad son,
I'm not a bad a kid, I just wish that you could go into MY mind and I could
show you that I'm logical.
I hope Marissa doesn't tell any--
MARISSA! I almost forgot about Marissa. My Marissa. My first real girl-
friend. I love her so much. Nobody understands it like I do and she does, all
my friends tell me I'm crazy, they tell me she's bad news, but fuck them. She
doesn't make them feel the way she makes me feel, and I guess I'm proud of that
or maybe just happy that she's there for me.
And there I sat, behind the wheel, for several hours, listening to the mus-
ic erupting from the speakers, smoking a seldom cigarette, and smiling the
whole way there.
* * *
Upon reaching Hubbard, Oregon, I found that I needed to go fuel up my car.
I pulled off the first exit I saw, went to some gas station, and realized the
luxury of Oregon State policy. You didn't even have to pump the gas yourself,
you just sit back and pay the man to do it for you, and, after he had finished,
I turned the key, pressed the gas, and vanished, as though I were Superman and
this world just a game to me.
I continued driving down the highway. Finally, after nine hours and forty-
three minutes, I reached the California State border. Immediately, I knew this
trip was reality and I knew that I wasn't dreaming anymore. This is why I left
school behind, why I left my friends and family behind, for this, and here I
was, at its foyer.
My eyes at this point were heavy and I was just about ready to pass out,
but I had two things going for me. First, these caffeine pills are a godsend,
but on top of that, the sky was so blue, a certain azure shade that I'd never
seen back home in Edmonds, Washington. Perhaps it was just my anxiety reflect-
ing my perspective, and whether or not it was, I honestly didn't care because
here I was, in California, truly the land of the free.
I-5 South started getting to me and I needed to pull off to get something
to eat. I was down to about fifteen dollars and kept this in mind as I stopped
at a McDonalds to pick up a Quarter Pounder, some fries, and a Coke. Now, I
had ten dollars to last me for about one day. No worries, though, because here
I was, in the last state of my travels, nearly half-way to Apple Valley.
* * *
Around Landers, or some obscure town I didn't know the name of, I ran out
of gas. My car was rumbling and it slowly died as I reached a gas station,
one of four buildings in sight, and nothing else except barren land for miles;
the sun was scortching hot and I had no more money after I bought some more
food somewhere in L.A. I was broke and couldn't afford to fuel up.
My only solution?
Attempt to sling some dope to the locals and few passerbys that were a dime
a dozen. In other words, I was stuck, in Nowhereville, California, thousands
of miles away from home, no form of communication, and no one, NO ONE, knew
where I was . . .
TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT ISSUE
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
THE CYBER SAMMY LIVES IT UP DEPT.
She Cheated . . . But Not On A Test
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ by cyber sammy
You have probably read my story on losing my cyber-virginity. I'll tell
you, it felt great, and that one day, you should lose your virginity online,
too. I really recommend it. Anyway, today, I want to share to you about when
my girlfriend first cheated on me. It just shows you that AOL can hurt people
really badly like it did to me.
Last February, I had met a girl. We had slept together a few times, and
she was really good. Her screen name was AznB0ii. She was a nice girl. She
lived in Australia and was very nice. We had called each other once. I asked
her why an international number wasn't needed while calling her, and she re-
plied with, "Australia is too close to the U.S." So, with that, we connected
via telephone. She really did sound Australian! Her voice cracked a lot, and
she forgot to say "the" and she mixed her sentences around. I can understand,
though, because Australian is a hard language! I remember that after we had
talked, and had minor phone sex, that I had to have her!
Well, on February 16, I got the nerve to ask her out. Surprisingly, she
said, "Yes, I would love to, Daniel." Daniel? Who was that?
"Oh, I was . . . just joking, Sammy!" Oh, phew! I was scared for a min-
ute.
Well, anyhow, one day, while in a private room called "PoolFunForEvery1",
my friend Dwayne told me that Andrea, my girlfriend, was trying to hit on him.
I didn't believe him at first and just ignored him. But an e-mail came, filled
with color and text. It was a chat log of AznB0ii to Dw4n3y, Dwayne's screen
name. It was true . . .
"Sammy? He not boyfriend. He just a sick fuck who have no life." The
words stabbed at me like an African tribesman throwing a spear at an enemy
white man. Why had she said this? All those times we spent in my cyber-bed-
room. Hadn't my luscious cyber-body turned her on? I guess not.
The next day, I Instant Messaged her and confronted her about the sit-
uation at hand. I thought she would deny it and claim her love for me, but I
was wrong. Again. She confessed to everything, where she then proceeded to
dump me.
This made me hurt for what seemed like forever. I tried to kill myself
three different times. But, I soon realized that she was just an Internet
girlfriend. Only on my computer. Which meant one thing: I could always get a-
nother. In fact, I later did.
However, being cheated on hurts. It's a part of life, though, and I have
gotten used to it. I have learned that the ones who usually cheat on you are
the ones who always tell you that they love you. And, for some odd reason,
that's so true.
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
After a night of Nitrous, bong rips, and beer, it would be assumed that there
would be a genuine flood of thoughts evoking some sort of mystical summoning,
but all that can be stirred up is this junkie second issue of your soon-to-be-
favorite magazine of all time. Enjoy your time spent here.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
THE PRESENTING A SPECIAL GUEST DEPT.
The Tenacious Grip of the Master
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ by gir
"It's called the tenacious grip."
"I'm still not sure how it works."
"Quite simple. Any time someone tries to arm wrestle you, just break their
hand."
The master of the racing champions goes on explaining a brutal finishing
move that had been illegal in most of the modern arm wrestling leagues. He was
getting old and couldn't compete in these competitions anymore. The only hope
for the racing champions was for the master to instruct the last peion of the
clan in hopes that he'd dominate the arm wrestling leagues like his master once
had.
Unfortunately, things weren't going so well. Peon (as he and all the other
training competitors of the racing champions were referred to) had to relearn
all of his arm wrestling skills on his weak hand after breaking the other one
in attempting to do the tenacious grip on a practice dummy.
Not that most racing hopefuls didn't have their dreams crushed by the prac-
tice dummy. He had a bit of a history in the arm wrestling leagues. Once en-
chanted by a powerful wizard, the practice dummy came close to becoming champ-
ion in all of the arm wrestling leagues known throughout the universe. It was-
n't until he faced the master of the racing champions in an epic battle that
his powers were stripped of him and he returned to his former, normal, practice
dummy self.
Peon thought that if the Master had such power, maybe he could teach Peon
to use similar power and become the next great champion of the arm wrestling
leagues. You see, nobody liked watching racing anymore. Whether it be on foot
or in a motorized vehicle, it was passé. All of the racing champions were
gathered up and exiled from the cities proper of the world. Forced to fend for
themselves against the elements and other exiles of modern society, it was the
racing people who decided arm wrestling would determine an exile's fate. Once
legions had risen up to follow the new order of arm wrestling, the elders of
the racing people would lead a revolt against the cities and not stand down
until they were let back in to modern civilization and racing of all kinds was
restored to it's former glory.
Ever since he was little, Peon had known this. He had also been told stor-
ies about an unlikely boy of the racing people, one no one would believe in,
rising up to lead the racing people back into the cities. Being the idealist
he was, Peon thought he was that boy. He was the one that could bring the rac-
ing people back to their former glory, but first he had to learn the mighty
tenacious grip.
"Peon, if you can't learn this, then our people have no hope. Need I re-
mind you that this is the grip that restored the order and balance of the rac-
ing people into the arm wrestling leagues?"
"No, Master. You don't need to remind me?"
"Are you sure? You weren't alive then, so you don't know how much of a
tragedy it was for us. The people of the cities had grown quite fond of our
new championships we were forming and decided they could breed the perfect
champion to manipulate and then take control of the exiles last joy in life.
In fact the practice dummy you toy with was their attempt at that. After a
failed attempt of recreating the plot from Rocky IV, they decided we as exiles
weren't worthy of being thwarted by a ripoff of a Stallone movie. Thus this
practice dummy here broke a good many heart and soul to become champion. For-
tunately, I and the other elders of my times were developing the ultimate arm
wrestling finishing move. The tenacious grip is something that many of the
guilds of exiles have sought to emulate, but only we as racing folk can. You
must learn it and you must learn it proper. It would be disastrous if through
your poor execution of the move that another guild, or even the city dwellers
learned of our power. Do you understand?"
"Yes Master."
"Good. Let us continue."
Peon's journey to the championships would be a very long one. He'd broken
his arm multiple times trying to learn the powerful tenacious grip. But he
wasn't afraid. He knew that the sacrifice would help his people regain their
power and prestige. He also knew that the race people had some hecka sweet
sports medicine power and that his arm would heal very quickly. In the mean
time, he could learn powerful defense techniques with his weak hand. Most of
the league competitors would never suspect it, especially from a lowly peon of
the race people.
[CNC]
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THE ITS A STORY FOLKS DEPT.
Words of a Porn Star
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ by brian
Millie was a porn star, but before that, she was a waitress. One day, af-
ter waiting on what she thought was a hot Italian customer, she turned to co-
waitress, Samantha, and said, "Sam, I want to fuck that Italian so bad. Just
look at him. His long shiny black hair, his perfectly scuplted nose and those
shiny cheekbones! Oooohh, girl, I'm getting so hot!"
"Millie," Sam says, switching views from her co-worker to the customer,
"he is pretty hot but that doesn't mean you should fuck him. And if you hon-
estly want to make whoopie with him," switching back to Millie, "then you're
just another white trash slut. You know that, right?"
"Of course . . . but not if I become a porn star, then it's alright."
"Whatever, Millie, do what you want."
After her shift, Millie did just that.
She went to HappyCore Movie Productions and applied to be a porn star. She
waited fifteen minutes for Mr. Slick to come out of his office.
"Millie?" he asked.
"That's me."
"Hi. Mr. Slick," the man said, extending his hand.
"Millie Cormick," she said, almost like clockwork, extending her hand, as
well.
"Hmm . . ." Mr. Slick, with his lips pressed together, said, and then he
began to stroke his beard, in a twisted sensual kind of manner, like he's had
porn experience, himself. Finally, after a minute of anxious silence, he said,
"How about Kiki McRack?"
"Pardon?" She was confused by his suggestion, or question, whatever it
was.
"From now on, we'll call you Kiki McRack. Sound okay?"
"Sure," and there was nothing Millie could do because she at this gentle-
man's mercy.
And so it was from then on. Millie was now Kiki.
Then came her big break. Kiki was at her house, washing the dishes, when
all of a sudden she had received a phone call:
"Hello?"
"Is this Kiki?"
She had noticed that the man on the other line had a deep voice, almost
like a grizzly bear or beastly savage, and she said, "Yes, who's this, please?"
"Hello, Kiki, my name's Jim Bernstein, and I saw your portfolio and I would
very much like to cast you in an upcoming movie that I'm producing."
"Oh, how wonderful! What time? Where? I'll have to have an hour to get
ready, of course! But, oh how splendid!"
"Calm down, Kiki, we can meet tomorrow. How's lunch?"
"Lunch sounds great!"--through spurts of excitement--"Where?"
"Does Denny's work for you?"
"The Lintown one?"
"No, dear, the one downtown, right off Ash."
"Of course, Jim, I'd love to."
"Great, then I will see you around 12:30ish. I'll reserve the seats under
my name."
"Yes, yes, sure! I will see you then!"
"See you then, Kiki."
"Okay, buh-bye!" and they both hung up the receivers.
Kiki showed up to the downtown Denny's at 12:32, giving Jim some time to
get seated and have everything prepared. She wore a light blouse and had un-
buttoned it to project a more vulnerable appearance.
She walked in and asked the hostess if there was a Jim Bernstein in the di-
ner.
"Yes, ma'am," the curly-haired, munchkin-like lady replied, "he's right
over there, in the very back booth. Would you like me to show you?"
"Please do."
After thanking the hostess for her time and upon reaching the table, Kiki
looked at the gentlemen presented before her. He was burly, had a black, thick
mustache, and was smoking a cigarette quite elegantly.
"Kiki, I presume," his voice announced as though he were a professional.
"Yes, sir, I'm Kiki." She suddenly was nervous and a bit shaky. "And you
are Mr. Bernstein, right?"
"You can call me Jim."
"Okay, Jim." He smiled and she assumed that to be an invitation to sit
down, so she did.
Over the course of the entire lunch, Jim offered her roles in upcoming mov-
ies that he was producing. She had agreed to nearly all of them and by the
time their lunch had ended, she had signed a three-year contract with Lusty
Sex Entertainment and was to begin shooting her first movie ever in a week.
They set up the spot for the first scene, and after he handed her the address
to the studio, he paid the bill, thanked her, and walked away, grinning.
A week had passed and all Kiki could think about was the first movie. She
drove her Buick to the address Jim gave to her and when she had gotten there,
she realized that it wasn't a studio at all, but more like a bordello you'd see
in Reno or something of the likes.
Approaching the door, Kiki was overwhelmed with tension. Thoughts poured
like hot soup into her mind. What if I mess up? What will it feel like? Who
will be watching? Thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts upon denial upon re-
lunctance.
At last, she saw Jim, standing outside another door, smoking a cigarette.
Noticing her, he took one last drag, threw the butt down, squashed it with his
black boots, and yelled, "Kiki! Over here!"
She had been happy to see Jim. In a way, he was her safe person. She in-
stantly smiled and said, glowing, "Jim! Hello! Where should I go?"
"You can just follow me. Come on," and he led her through the door, past
some boxes and cameras, past some crew members and tables, and finally they
reached the room of their first scene.
A bed with red silk sheets shined iridescently under the hot lights. There
was a white and black tiger stripe rug on the ground and a fireplace home to
crackling firewood and a beautiful aura of heat that could literally be seen
by Kiki.
Suddenly, she was so anxious to be in that bed, to be rubbing her feet on
that rug, and to be snuggling up close with her partner near the fire. It was
almost a dream.
Just then, a man walked into the room, wearing a silk bathrobe, fuzzy slip-
pers, and a gold chain necklace. Upon further inspection, Kiki realized who
this man was. He was, in fact, the same man that inspired her to become a porn
star in the first place, the hot Italian customer she had served just a few
months ago.
"This is Alfonzo." It was Jim, but she didn't register his words. She was
fixated on the hot Italian, focused on the slicked-back hair, his shiny chest,
how each movement was godlike. He strutted to her like a celebrity, and every-
thing seemed as though it were in slow motion and blurred.
"Hello, Millie," he said.
She was lost for words.
"Her name is Kiki," said Jim.
"No, her name is Millie. She's a waitress at a café I once stopped at.
Jim was confused and didn't know what to say.
Millie blinked.
Alfonzo turned from Jim to the woman before him and he said, "Millie, how
would you like to get some coffee?"
She nodded and they walked out of the house together, his arm around her
shoulders. Though a breach of contract was committed, it didn't matter, be-
cause, essentially, they were both fired.
Millie never became the porn star she wanted to be but she did get that hot
Italian man that she served the steak to. Together they lived, for the rest of
their lives, in Alfonzo's gigantic penthouse.
THE END!
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
dirty news pendalum clocking me Frankly, ma'am, I don't care but I do, so what
now? Feelings, not really ripping, not really exploding, and not imploding. I
just don't understand. Maybe they are knots, untying fragile body, fragile
bones, though the skelton says nay, and we agree on two things: before anything
actually transpired, everything was gravy; and, two, before anything else oc-
curs, the two stars must speak, an outcome comes only with that and, darling,
this is where we break down the facts, eyes meet, rosy, ruddy cheeks, bright
and spangled, smiling, and if you focus on the good things, well then, you can
ignore the bad; though it doesn't always work. Okay, so I'm terrified of being
sad, what can I do? This: knives splitting open my veins with hot razors melt-
ing my arms like elastic, and this solace blankets me, and I'm not going to say
I'll cry because I'm tired of crying and I'm tired of "tears of (fill in the
blank)", if you catch my drift.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
THE ANYONE CAN BE A POET DEPT.
Revolutionary Love
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[by matt]
I stopped going to school for you, my love, I did it all for you
You showed me how it was the tool of corrupt knowledge
So I stopped going to it for you
I rebelled against what they said for you, my love, I did it all for you
You showed me their obvious lies and made me think twice
I stopped believing in it for you
I joined that riot for you, my love, I did it all for you
I kicked that cop in the face to save your soul
I kicked that cop for you
I shot that man you told me to, my love, I did it all for you
I heard how he insulted you and spoke out against your reasons
I shot that man for you
I lay in this prison for you, my love, I do it all for you
With an empty bed, some lonely bread, and a non-heated cold room
I lay in this prison for you
You are my love, with your colours flying high
The red, white and blue mix nicely with the burning light
You are my mind peace, the question to my solution
You are the mother fucking revolution
and, of course, from where he last left off . . .
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
THE NEO-CLASSIC DEPT.
The following piece originally appeared as cnc-002.txt before I converted it
all into a magazine of a sort. What follows is an exact duplication of the
text, minus the original format. It's original release date was October 17,
2002.
Cue Dimension 4
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ by brian
Fade in.
Imagine your eyes are closed. There's a piano playing soft music behind your
ears and all your mind can focus on is the tapping of the piano keys--when
frail hands of your family tree transcend into this world. Finally, you under-
stand what they all mean by "living each day as though it will be your last",
and essentially you fall apart into a broken array of wooden pieces, only to
wake up as a grandfather clock, and you scream, your achy voice imploring for
an escape or manuever.
Enter me.
Taking the trash out is so terribly easy that it's unappealing and it is so
completely inept that I walk, my face downcast, disregarding the immaculate
sky above. The skies, they say, are a distinguished insignia of hope and hope
is not what I need right now. Instead, I'll try and capture the sound of the
streets, an entity in its own regard, and stand on its shoulder. I feel too
often and that is my problem. I feel too loose and sticky, naturally, because
I am far more gregarious than average, but, sadly, not by choice.
That's when I hear the chimes, distant and desparate. I peer behind the fence,
but see nothing but the neighbor's house. I scan the dumpsters and again no-
thing more than the routine-clad principle peeping back at me.
Fade in to you.
I've been told the iron has more effect on the pendulum than the guts and
gears of the machine. If this is true, imagine that you are upon the skin of
the ocean, walking miraculously as a prophet would, vividly dreaming of what's
below, and then you make an epiphany.
Cut to zygote.
Yes, yes, yes. Now you see. If the sky represents hope, then why would you
want to see it, wide open and on display for anyone? Rather, hope is genuinely
shown through the gaze of the center, below your feet, below the Earth, and
into an abyss that you, in fact, are unable to view. Metaphysically, you can
endure something so grand, but as you and I sit here and speak, I can tell you
that your notes from the underground have proven true and you have been given a
proper accolade.
In the end we drank green tea and jocularly discussed the ideas of past philos-
ophers.
"By far, the Socratic method of teaching seems to work best."
"Yes, and his student, Plato, had it right with the cave," I added.
"What is your opinion of 'God Is Dead'?" you asked.
Upon saying that, we both finished our drinks and laughed gaily the rest of
that awefully magnificent night.
Fade to black.
[CNC]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
the dieury of Billy Sped
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
monday december 13 1999
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
today i got in a fite. i beat myself up so i think i one but i gotta go becuz i
need to get to bed early bye.
--------------
true-sday decembur 14 1999
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
i dont have a lot of time to write so ill make it quick. i lost my thurd toe
today becuz i wuz clipping my toe nails and for sum raisin i cut my toe and
made it go off so i dont no. also i got a paper cut witch is a cut from a peece
of paper just iN cASe u didnt no. well i need to go bye.
--------------
wensday decembur 15 1999
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
my momma wuz gone for a long time today but i dont no why. a guy came over to
the house his name was addishin or minus sumthing and he took my mom. hes been
cuming over a lot i dont no why tho. also i got a new music cd. its called
barney i think thats how u spell it becuz its really cool to lissin to. i like
the color goldenod it remines me of snow and the sky. i need to go now.
--------------
kursday december 16 99
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
i smell chalklit so im in the mood for corn now. im gunna go get sum now bye.
--------------
fryday decembEr 17 99
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
today is winter brake at skool so im happy but sumbody bent my glasses today im
so mad!!! they were in my room bent i think my cat did it or my birdz becuz
they were eating and they got bent but i dont no. well i need to go to bed now
bye dieury!
--------------
saterday december 18 99
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
todAy was a big day becuz i fell down and didnt hert myself becuz i ushally do.
im not feeling good i think i ate too mutch pudding im gonna go bye diury.
--------------
sunday decebur 19 99
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
i woke up today and was kinda surprized becuz sumtimes i dont do that becuz i
forget to. rite now im lissining to music called barney. i got the cd a few
dayz aGo and i liek it a lot becuz it sounds nice. i wuz gonna go to church
today but i found out that i dont go so i didnt. i need to go now to bed im
kinda tired and awake and sleepy bye.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
ZINES I ENJOY (MURDERED OR SPARED) '`:....
angstmonster - <http://www.angstmonsterorg>
fitshaced - <http://www.fitshaced.com>
grill - <http://www.quarex.com/grill.html>
hogs of entropy - <http://www.hoe.nu>
iamhappyblue - <http://www.iamhappyblue.com>
long dark tunnel - <http://ldt.aguk.co.uk>
neo-comintern - <http://www.neo-comintern.com>
tripe - <http://scene.textfiles.com/tripe/tripe.txt>
twisted young minds expand - <http://www.720.st/files/TYME>
y0lk - <http://www.y0lk.org>
and, as always, http://scene.textfiles.com for 3t3rn-i-TEE<3
real fast words -
///
/// um, does anyone actually read all of this?
/// honestly because if no one does, then this is worthless.
/// bah fuck it all.
///
</end ramble>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------\+
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$SSssss....
&&& Cheese'N Crackers can be distributed as you see fit. All material &&&
&&& is copyrighted to its respective author. If you're offended, I'm &&&
&&& sorry you can't take humor in a healthy sort of fashion. Do what &&&
&&& you want because nobody really cares about you. &&&
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