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Doomed to Obscurity Issue 07
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+ doomed to obscurity + issue seven + february 10th, 1996 +
$$$$$$ $$$$$$
$' $ $ $sssssssss .s%&$$$""$$&%s.
.s%&$$$$""$....$ $....$ $' $ $ `$
$......$ $::::$ $::::$ $$$$$$$$ $.....$ $.....$
$::::::$ $::::$ $::::$ $......$ $:::::$ $:::::$
$||||||$ $||||$ $||||$ $::::::$ $|||||$ $|||||$
$iiiiii$ $iiii$ $iiii$ $||||||$ $iiiii$ $iiiii$
$$$$$$$$ $!!!!$ $!!!!$ $iiiiii$ $!!!!!$ $!!!!!$
`"Y$$$$$ss$$$$$$ `"Y$$$ss$$$$$Y"' `"Y$$$$ss$$$$Y"'
+ time & time again it's proven ; stupid people shouldn't breathe - jasonf +
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"i win a cookie"
by - mogel
man oh man. i decided to take a break from my life of intense sexual
gratification to push another heapin' of t-file mastery in your undeserving
faces. eat it up, lubdub!@
since you asked, my big trip to illinois & indiana was a blast.
there was a deep, contorted phear in the air as me, skooter, tao, murmur,
jamesy, kojak, atlas, jamesy, quarex, swiss pope, vanir, & assorted warez
guys met. we pissed in your mother's face, jackass.
wonder upon wonders!@ prism.net, dto's home system is back up &
eternally in action again. this includes the return of our mailing address
dto@prism.net, our official ftp site ftp.prism.net /pub/text/dto, & our
mailing list - where you can get gnu phresh dto issues 0-day, just by
sending email to dto@prism.net & having the body of your mail say
"subscribe dto". that's easier than having SEX with YOUR MOTHER.
TEEHEE!!!!!
reflection upon reflection is the route to my erection, you know.
speaking of being aroused, i've made my peace with dto's own sex-kitten,
black francis. hey, through all the crap that went down, it was ultimately
pointed out _i_ was the jackass that irked bF enough to leave. therefore,
i'd like to sincerely apologize to both bF & all of dto's writers & readers
for being a fuckface.
MOGEL SUCKS, OKAY? EVERYONE WRITE IT DOWN.
at any rate, upon next issue of dto, bF will be back with us with his
position as head editor restored. everyone welcome bF back.
everyone : "welcome back, bF!"
bF : "HA HA! FOOLED YOU, ASSFACES!"
also, with this issue, james hetfield, one of the founders of dto
that ducked out as a head guy right before issue one came out, has returned
to us, full force. we've decided to name jamesy to be our SIXTH
president-type-chap. this makes our executive staff :
black francis - head editor
mogel - director of submissions
murmur - director of goat-spiel, pong, & vegetables.
tao - head of dto propaganda
eerie - his boy elroy
jamesy - head of the dto pets
WHY THE HELL NOT? WE CAN HAVE AS MANY PRESIDENTS AS WE WANT. GO TO
HELL#!
this spectacular issue also features the FINALLY released dto
manifesto - our political declaration which will be guiding our actions for
many years to come. as a little helping hand, i think i should give you the
full story on how the manifesto came about, exactly.
you see, here we are at issue seven of our beloved 'zine & we, as of
now, have received a quite MINIMAL amount of media recognition. this is not
a good thing.
after much contemplating & theorizing, it was hypothesized that the
culprit in this most heinous of injustices is .. the name of the 'zine
itself.
"the name of the 'zine itself?", you ask.
that's right, jack. being entitled "doomed to obscurity" is the
single factor which has kept us all from our lifelong dreams of being
showcased on geraldo & paraded all over the evening news like an expensive
escort at a hollywood movie premiere. we were quite troubled.
you see, in psychology, there's a little something called "the
labelling theory" which basically states that if you, or a group of people,
for that matter, label someone frequently enough, no matter what that
persons true intentions are, that someone is bound to succumb to the
pressures of society & eventually become what he or she has been labelled.
not following me here? let me give you an example :
a group of boys are eating lunch at school in their usually sloppy
manner. a teacher walks by the boys & falls witness to their disgusting
ritual.
jokingly, the teacher comments, "you guys are a bunch of animals, for
christ sakes!" & proceeds to walk away.
the boys stop eating for a second to look around the table at each
other & say, "hey, you know, he's right .. we ARE a bunch of animals." &
then continue to pile food & anything in it's path into their mouths.
.. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, more or less.
after the inner circle had come this this painful realization, we saw
that our ironic joke would backfire in our face & we would most certainly be
doomed to obscurity.
thus, in light of the recent developments, it was proposed that dto
would have a dramatic name change. several suitable 'zine names were tossed
around for us to use, some of which were :
"we will get laid", "guys with big penises", "smart people with lots
of money & really nice shoes", "guys who have loose girlfriends with really
big titties", or, "writers who barely have enough time to write really good
articles between wild orgies" ..
then, in the midst of this brainstorming, someone alluded to another
psychological theory called the 'alternative' theory, the one which created
fame for 'grunge' music. this theory, in essence, states that when
something attempts to be different & out of the ordinary, it stands out to
a great degree & those that want to be socially 'different' gobble it up
like candy. sort of like the bisexual movement.
it was certainly a relevant point to bring up. now the only problem
was that we had two conflicting theories. after weeks of heavy debate, we
discovered that shadow tao had forgotten that he had gotten a
psychological-theory-scale last year for christmas & kept it in his closet.
using his scale, we discovered that in actuality, the 'alternative' theory
had more precedence in the human mind that the 'labelling' theory.
phew!@
however, just to be on the safe side, we decided to declare the
public our appropriate direction for what we want to accomplish with dto
in some form, thus the manifesto was created & written by the dto inner
circle.
unfortunately, the day after the manifesto was written it was pointed
out that in actuality, dto is _already_ famous. people just haven't
realized it yet!@ guh.
sheesh, this editorial was long as all heck. well, enjoy this
cooley-cool issue, gang. it's fully of all kinds of the brooding angst,
vampires, & gothic cyberpunk that you've come to expect from us.
sm00ches!@
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| | | | | |
doomed to obscurity seven | | | | | | & all contents therein ..
| | | | | |
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|___ _
1 - i win a cookie
by - mogel
2 - doomed to obscurity seven & all contents therein ..
by - mogel
3 - the dto manifesto
by - the dto inner circle
4 - a story
by - james hetfield
5 - press your lips against my buttock, suction practicing person!
by - eerie
6 - the crane & the crow
by - shadow tao
7 - <insert penis>
by - fake scorpion
8 - it's 9:15am, do you know if your brain works?
by - kojak
9 - the simmons family saga, continued
by - sweeney erect
10 - regrets
by - murmur
11 - the day the geek snapped
by - creed
12 - to forgive & regret
by - styx
13 - the chaos theory ; friday, july 15
by - eerie
14 - my name is mud
by - murmur
15 - hapless in the hands of some kind of god
by - crank
16 - parsley - condiments ; chapter 173
by - murmur
17 - demons breed at computer city
by - crank
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"the dto manifesto"
by - the inner circle
WE, AS A FREE-THINKING & ABLE-BODIED COLLECTION OF DISTINCT &
RATIONAL INDIVIDUALS, EMBODYING THE UNIVERSAL KNOWLEDGE AS BRANDISHED UNDER
THE TITLE OF ITS MOST RECENT INCARNATION, OUR EVERLASTING SYMBOL OF
APOCALYPTIC IRONY 'DOOMED TO OBSCURITY', HEREBY FORMALLY DECLARE THAT FROM
THIS MOMENT FORWARD THE CHARTER BY WHICH WE SHALL PROGRESSIVELY &
SYSTEMATICALLY SEEK TO SUBDUE, ASSIMILATE, & FOREVER DOMINATE GLOBAL
SOCIETY, SHALL BE IN EFFECT, & SHALL NOT CEASE TO BE IN EFFECT,
NOTWITHSTANDING AN OFFICIAL DECLARATION TO THE CONTRARY BY SAID UNIFIED
ORGANIZATION OF SAID DISTINCT & RATIONAL INDIVIDUALS.
THE TIME IS NOW!@
FORGED IN ANGST - DOOMED TO OBSCURITY & ITS UNIQUE & SOCIALLY VARIED
GATHERING OF ENERGETIC FORCES FROM ACROSS THE WORLD AROSE FROM THE
BLISTERING, SCORNING FIRES OF MEDIOCRITY & SELF-INDULGENCE. THE LOW, THE
HIGH, THE PSYCHOLOGICALLY IMBALANCED, & THOSE INBETWEEN HAVE RAISED THE
BANNER OF DOOMED TO OBSCURITY, EMBRACED BY ITS COLD & SAUCY TRUTH!
DTO, A GRIM, RIGID, PENSIVE YET RANDOM SAVIOR OF THE OPPRESSED
MASSES, WILL DELIVER *YOU* FROM THE STAGNATION OF THE COMMERCIAL MAGAZINE
& IMPERIALIST TRITE-MONGERS THAT HAVE ALREADY STAKED THEIR CLAIMS IN THE
DEPTHS OF OUR VERY SUGGESTIVE NEURONS! THEY THAT RUN RAMPANT UPON OUR
TROUBLED AGE OF BLATANT PHLEM-INDUCTIVE MIND CONTROL, UNCHECKED BY A
RESERVED & ALTOGETHER TEPID 'ZINE BOURGEOISIE, WILL FEEL THE HARD JUSTICE OF
THE MASSES, CLUTCHING FOR THE TRUTH THAT HAUNTS THEM!@
WE WILL DELIVER YOU FROM THE ESTABLISHMENT THAT CONSPIRES TO INUNDATE
YOUR LIFE WITH ITS CONVOLUTED PROPAGANDA & PSEUDO-IDEALISMS!
WE WILL BRING YOU THE TRUTH!
WE WILL BRING YOU THE LIGHT!
WE WILL BRING YOU THE *WAY*!@#
WE WILL MAKE OURSELVES OMNIPRESENT BY PUTTING A SUGGESTIVE
STRANGLEHOLD ON THE FLACCID MORTAL MEDIA THAT CAN NOT BE OVERCOME. BY THIS
PROCESS OF ENHANCED ACTIVITY & THE SUBSEQUENT INABILITY OF THE WEAK-MINDED
PIGEONS THAT HAVE BECOME ESTABLISHED IN THEIR COMFY ADJUSTABLE CHAIRS TO
OVERCOME THE PARADIGM OF THE INTELLECTUAL ELITE, OVERWHELMING ATTENTION FROM
STANDARD MIND-ENHANCING AGENTS OF CIVILIZATION WILL BE GRANTED TO WE, WE WHO
SEEK THE ULTIMATE TRUTH THROUGH MEDITATION ON THE VERY ESSENCE OF HUMANITY,
THE WORDS WITH WHICH WE EXPRESS OUR VERY THOUGHTS!
.. & IT IS WITH THIS UNAVOIDABLE ATTENTION THAT WE SHALL UNLEASH THE
TRUE BRILLIANCE OF THESE COLLECTIVE NEURAL IMPULSES OF FORMERLY STAGNATED
POWER ; THEN, & ONLY THEN, AFTER THE ATTENTION HAS BEEN GARNISHED, SHALL
THIS, THE FORMULA OF CONSECRATION, BE SPRUNG INTO ACTION :
THE DTO FORMULA (tm)
MEDIA ATTENTION == FAME
FAME == GIRLS. err. no. MONEY.
MONEY == GIRLS (YEAH!@#)
GIRLS == SEX
THUS, USING OUR FLAWLESS MATHEMATICAL FORMULA, YOU COME TO SEE :
!!! DTO == SEX !!!
SEX FOR ALL!
ONCE THIS GOAL IS ACHIEVED, ONCE THIS FINAL CONSUMMATION OF ALL THAT
IS GOOD & PROPER HAS BECOME ETCHED INTO OUR MINDS AS THE LAW OF THE LAND,
WITH THIS 'DOOMED TO OBSCURITY', THIS OUTFIT OF THE FREE & THE WILLING
BEHIND THE UNIVERSAL TRUTH, SEX FOR ALL, MAY WE FINALLY REACH TRUE NIRVANA.
SO, FREE-THINKING INDIVIDUALS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!
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"a story"
by - james hetfield
i want to write a story. a story of protagonists & antagonists &
foils & conflicts & climaxes & resolutions. i want to have a heroic hero,
with strong strength & positic poise. i want an antagonist so antagonistic
he wreaks terror into the hearts of children far & wide.
the hero would, of course, be me. i would be the writer living in a
grubby apartment that is trying to find a foothold in this world that sucks
me dry of every emotion i have. i would fight evil, fight society, & most
importantly, fight myself - & in the end, i would triumph triumphantly. i
would have succeeded in my tasks, i would be known world-wide for my
writing, i would get the girl, & i would be self-content.
the villain would show up in many forms. a gruesome opponent. he
would start as a person, a man who mocked me & destroyed me internally, but
then the villain would grow to be more symbolic, to be society as a whole, a
society that brings down the artist & only serves the business oriented.
right when it seems like my demise, & i could not survive in this
world any longer, i would find within myself the hidden insight that makes
everything & everyone in this world make sense - & i would accept it &
benefit from it. i would go on to live a perfect life, a happily ever after
life, a utopian ending.
everyone would love this story. they would say it is greatest
written achievement of our time. when it is made into an abc after school
special, siskel & ebert would give it two thumbs up. mel gibson would star
as me & marlin brando would play the antagonist. interviewers would
interview me thirty years after the fact to try to understand where this
great insight & magnificent piece of writing came from. i would explain it
to them, but not explain too much, for knowledge is a dangerous weapon in
the hands of the ignorant. i would continue to live the content & happy
life i created for myself in the story, & finish my life being known as one
of man's greatest humanitarians.
shortly after i die, many other people would begin to understand my
great achievement, & an entire literary genre would be started after me.
post-modern-constructionism. the great minds of the day would extensively
study my work for hints of how to recreate the beauty & essence of the
words. when someone made a literary achievement of their own, they would be
called a modern-day me. in libraries there would be biographies on me right
next to ones on t.s. eliot, william shakespeare, charles dickens & mark
twain.
i will survive in the hearts & minds of an entire generation. or
two. or three.
but then something will happen. a lonely boy who has no path in life
will find a tragic flaw in my most prized writing. he will understand that
there are no villains in life, there are no 'bad guys', simply people &
their points of reference. this fact will destroy my entire philosophy.
the scope of all my work will become meaningless. the only people who will
ever read me again are college students enrolled in "writing of the latter
middle suburban age, 1990-2010." this class will only be available at
college of mchenry county in illinois. everyone will forget me. i will be
as significant in the scheme of things as j. alfred prufrock himself. the
new generation will befall into a culture that relies on nihilism to give
them their lack of a path in life. people will still learn, but knowledge
will have no importance because of the hypocrisy & paradox of anything &
everything & nothing. life will, once again, be meaningless.
in a few hundred years, an archaeologist will find one of my works in
a time capsule, one of the few that will survive the holocaust. they will
note of my work that it "typifies american culture ; a culture derived from
& maintained on the struggle to keep hope alive. a culture disillusioned &
removed from reality." i will be one of the elite to be published in a book
called "who's who in pre-holocaust writers." everyone will find my work
impossible to interpret, mainly because of the fact that the words were not
created to be viewed by five eyes, only two. even in translation my work
will seem like gibber jabber. no one will understand it. then again, did
anyone ever anyway?
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"press your lips against my buttock, suction practicing person!"
by - eerie
fuck me!
see, i said "fuck me!" ain't that subversive?!@#
i think it's a really grunge thing when you tell someone he/she
could fuck you. like, raw like that, you go see john doe & say : "fuck me,
sucker!@" it's a shame so many people have done it already. y'know,
cobain & wife, vedder, reznor, corgan, that buncha whiners. no one cares
about them anymore. they've gotten big, they've gotten spoiled, & they've
been fucked.
well if they asked for it, i don't see what they're complaining
about now ..
hah! fuck me!@ fuck me@#! fuck me#!@^ see? you don't even mind!@
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"the crane & the crow"
by - shadow tao
he wandered down the street with no general purpose. carefully, he
felt each step along ; quietly surveying every motion of his stride. he had
no job for the moment. he couldn't see his children. he had no life. he
felt nameless & alone.
when beth had gotten custody of the kids, she had sworn to never let
them near him again. no reason, really. she was angry at his luck in the
settlement.
the grey that blanketed the city had become darker, giving the glass
of the buildings a swirling, liquid look. he stepped onto a sidewalk that
led into a small community park. the trees guarded his way as he walked by,
oblivious to the clouds. the city was foreshadowed with the coming snow.
the government would be the last place you would have to wonder about
job security in the upper ranks. the united frickin states. how could the
government just _shut down_? that's not something that happens. 'FRANCE
SHUT DOWN FOR RENOVATION'. 'CHINA TO CLOSE FOR TOURIST SEASON ; CITING
PESTS'. not something you see in the every day-to-day. hmph.
he strolled through a crossroad, into an area with a small stream &
bridge. the bridge seemed rather new & clean. a quite pointless feature ;
the stream was small enough to walk over. he sat down & dangled his legs
just above the trickle of water below.
life seemed to be passing on without him. a small leaf had slipped
& tripped it's way downstream, quickly passing by him. kind of symbolic.
nothing really seemed important. life was just .. *blah*. a monk or a hare
krishna walked by him on the path, stopping in a clearing near him. out of
reflex, he pulled his legs up from the side of the bridge. there he sat,
watching the monk go through his tai chi or meditation or whatever, with his
legs crossed under him. the movements were long & graceful, like a bird.
was this the meaning? just living?
he had lost track of time & was staring blankly at the monk. his
life felt like a burden. everything was just a pointless waste of time.
a crow let out a grating caw.
quiet descended on him. light moved in a slow dance around the
bridge. it was almost peaceful enough to sleep.
he felt a tingling in his back. at first, he tried to ignore it, but
it soon had absorbed his entire body. he gasped at the sensation, not
sure what else to do. it kind of seemed as if he could feel everything in
the universe; it felt as if he was embodied with life itself. light
surrounded his body, lifting him above the ground, carrying him along. he
felt as if nothing could touch him. he was living through every being in
the universe. every planet, every asteroid ; they swam around in the
darkness of the void like schools of fish. he was limitless. he was whole
again.
.. & then reality slammed into him like a truck. he was still
sitting on the bridge. he was still in the park & out of breath. the monk
was now sitting in front of him, facing him in a somewhat more comfortable
crosslegged position.
"would you like some of my big mac?"
"sure. thank you."
the monk handed him part of the sloppy sandwich.
"thanks. what a beautiful day."
the churning grey clouds danced above them.
"yes. yes it is," the monk grinned.
for the first time that day, dan felt a little hope for himself, &
smiled & the bridge supported him.
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"<insert penis>"
by - fake scorpion
on my travels to pick-up a veggie'n'stuff sub from the appropriately
named subway fast-food store, jesus's face appeared on my dashboard. it
floated there for at least 10 seconds without saying anything of real
importance. he kept winking at me & mumbling, "hey baby."
"jesus? is that really you? am i hallucinating?"
"yes, it is me you pious penis. do not travel to subway."
these words of wisdom kind of pissed me off because i was looking
forward to that lovely sub. i muttered a "piss off," & instantly the face
was gone. i decided to follow the advice, just in case, so i drove to the
gas-station, picked up a pepsi & some doritos & started back home.
later that evening i found out that all of the customers at the
subway that day had come down with a mutated e-coli bacteria. they all died
quickly after digesting the subs. that sub sure would've been yum-yummy
right now.
jesus sucks.
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"it's 9:15am, do you know if your brain works?"
by - kojak
little kids, running through a field with a big red kite on a string.
one of them stops their running to think .. & think freely. the child's
mind wanders, wondering what it's like to be the kite. to fly with the
wind. it's the imagination of that kid that's flying.
why is it that when you get older, you lose your imagination? is it
because you've got experience? why does experience make one jaded?
there seems to be a golden rule in life that with age & experiences
comes the inevitable erasure of imagination. only a few great people have
ever been able to continue their imaginations as they gain life-experience.
those are the philosophers & inventors of the world.
these men, no matter what happens to them as their life goes by,
continue to dream. i have yet to meet a man who has not lost his dreams,
mostly due to a certain cynicism which can be found in his demeanor.
why is it that you let your dreams die out? is it because once
you've lived in our world for a certain period of time you feel that your
dreams are no longer attainable? when you're a child, you let your mind
soar. you enjoy life - & yet, the cold, harsh realities of life are bound
to kick in sometime.
as it turns out, the men who do indeed let their imagination fly are
more important to society than those who don't let their imaginations
wander. those who don't conform & enjoy their individualism end up being
the ones whose thoughts amaze & influence us the most. so who wouldn't want
to keep their individualism?
the temptation to become a member of society & to immerse yourself in
its ways is great. you don't want to strike out on your own, because, as
ralph waldo emerson said, "for nonconformity, the world whips you with its
displeasure". why not become a member of the social class? why not enjoy
the benefits of being social? at what cost must you do these things? at
the cost of your mental freedom. generally, whenever you join a group of
people, their mentality overtakes yours. you're forced to think like they
do, to believe what they believe, you're no longer given the option to think
for yourself.
to most people, there is no harm done in that. it is the precious
few that keep their freedom, that are willing to take the risks, that have
forever changed our society. it's the men who are children on the inside
that forever inspire us to someday go back to our roots & be true to
ourselves yet again.
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"the simmons family saga, continued"
by - sweeney erect
bob simmons suffered from a peculiar disorder. nobody could even
remember him. he could talk to a man for hours, then five minutes later the
man would be unable to recall what he had been doing for the past few hours.
the disorder even extended to his parents. they spent most of his
childhood wishing they could have a son so they could name him bob after his
rich, soon-to-be-deceased grandfather. when bob turned sixteen, his mother
was again with child. they had a son & named him bob. their doctor said
his records indicated he has delivered another son about sixteen years ago
& they had also named him bob. they all laughed at the silly little
secretary who misfiled the information.
bob's brother turned out to be perfectly normal & his other brother,
born a year later & named julian, although not normal, was at least
memorable.
eventually, bob moved out of the house & went away to college.
nobody, of course, noticed him move out. he had spent most of his life,
after he got too big to sleep in his parents' room, sleeping on the couch.
he had saved quite a lot of money & he managed to pay for his own
education at a small state school. there, his roommates were always under
the impression they had private rooms. in fact, at the end of his freshman
year his roommate tried to take bob's stuff with him, assuming that since it
was in his room & nobody else lived there it must be his. only five minutes
before, he & bob had finished talking.
the next year, the real tragedy of bob's condition made itself known
to him. he met a girl named leesa & they fell in love. every single day.
you see, no matter how long they talked, leesa would never remember
having met bob. they cold make dates, but she would never remember them.
each & every day, bob would make it a point to bump into leesa & they would
talk for hours & she would fall in love & then a few minutes later she would
go back to her room & complain to her roommate that she never met any decent
guys.
then leesa began to date other men. by the end of the year she was
set to marry one of them. bob ran into her for the last time & she said,
"oh my god, i love you. why couldn't we have met sooner?"
this was the last straw. bob ran away screaming.
bob lived out his life more or less alone all the time. he couldn't
hold a job, because his employers always forgot he worked for them & hired
somebody else to fill the spot. so bob lived pretty well, mugging people
for a little of the money in their wallets. not only did they not remember
bob, they didn't remember getting mugged. he could make almost a thousand
dollars a day doing this, because he could do it to anybody, in broad
daylight.
as time went by, bob's political opinions became increasingly
skewered. since he couldn't vote (couldn't get a driver's licence or for
that matter any id since the never remembered him long enough) his only
means of shaping politics seemed to be assassinating the president. he was
very much aware he would have no problem getting away with it. so he began
to lay plans.
before he acted on them, however, he died. it happened to him the
same day his land lady found a tenant for the "empty" room bob lived in.
thus concludes the story of bob simmons.
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"regrets"
by - murmur
it's sort of fascinating that when you lead a very minimal life, &
you do a minimal amount of things with your life, that the regrets you
stockpile seem like nothing in comparison to what they seem like after you
finally get up off your ass & step out into the world. when you don't do
anything, there's literally nothing to regret ; in other words, all you can
regret is that you have nothing. but when you start doing things, & you
start making more & more decisions, suddenly there's more to regret. it
happened to me just like that.
every day of my life i regret something. some things more than
others, of course. i regret that i didn't go to see the grateful dead in
chicago, what would be their final concert. i regret that i never pursued
anything serious with this particular girl. i regret that i've waited a
year & a half too patiently, hoping for my school to give me dial-ins to a
unix shell account. i sometimes regret i don't know my grandfather better.
i sometimes regret i didn't & still don't spend enough time with my
sister/mother/father/friend/cat/dog.
i regret that i practically wasted away until the second semester of
my senior year of high school, when, as odd as it may sound, i finally got
my modem hooked up & i finally broke out of a shell of sorts. i regret i
never really had the balls to ask a girl out through my first 17 years on
this dusty old mound of earth. i regret sleeping in too late the other day.
nobody wants to live in a world of regret. at least, nobody who's
got a proper chemical balance in their head. but we all do. we can't
wallow in these regrets. we've got to learn from them.
as wacky & ridiculous as some of the things i do are, i'm still shy
as hell around women. it's a regret. it's a continuous regret that merely
keeps building up & building up on me. i keep learning & getting a little
bit better. as it so happens, in those rare instances that i bust through
my sheath of shyness, well, good things don't necessarily happen. ooops.
my dad called tonight. it seems that an old classmate of mine, the
girl i was practically infatuated with for four years, her father died
yesterday or the day before or something. i haven't talked to her for, oh,
six months. but i still feel obligated to send a card, write a letter, or
something like that, to offer condolences. i didn't know her father. but
the condolences are for her, not for me.
there's a couple things that i can't quite help but think about.
regrets & would-be regrets. i regret that i was so shy, so outright absurd,
for so long through high school. if anything, to me she epitomizes myself
at the very worst. regret often surrounds death. it comes from a lot of
directions. regret that i said this/did this/didn't say this/didn't do this
to the dearly departed. regret that i can't do more to express condolences.
regret that i don't even understand the condolences i'm expressing.
what if my father had died today? would there be regrets? of course
there would be. there'd be a thousand, & i'd play out every last one in my
head. i can't help but think of a couple of them right now, in light of my
father calling to tell me an old friend's father has died. it's a night to
think back to some of those things i regret the most. they're not the same
things i regretted the most yesterday, or the day/week/year before. some
things i regret are dumb little things, like why wasn't i cheerier to that
girl? she was cute. why didn't i remember to let the dog out? he pissed
all over the floor. what the fuck was i doing when i was 16, sitting at
home on my ass?
i can rest assured every day that i'm not consumed by these regrets.
in fact, i'm very far from it. i've finally reached a turning point where
i'm learning from these regrets, especially the big one, that i feel like i
wasted so much time in high school doing nothing. i'm servicing that regret
now. but it doesn't hurt me on a daily basis. it's a reminder. it's a
reminder that now that i'm in college & enjoying what are supposed to be the
best days of my lives, i can't keep regretting. i can't regret what i did,
i've got to strive to make this a better life for myself.
it's not just a question of what if that were my father whose funeral
is friday. what if it were mine? what if i'm in a car/diving/fence
accident & become incapacitated for the rest of my life? what regrets? i
can't be consumed by those regrets. i've got to make my life the best it
can be. if that means refusing to work in food service ever again, so be
it. if that means telling off the asshole down the hall, so be it. i can't
keep regretting things, so i won't. i refuse.
that's the moral. you can't keep regretting things. to become
swallowed with regret is to lose - & i'm winning. i'm a winner. i've got
way too much to look forward to in my life, in my young life, to allow
regret to stop me. i'll say the same thing next year & i'll say the same
thing the year after that. our regrets help shape us, but to allow them to
mold us into a state of self-pity is unacceptable. it's not the life for
me. putting uncle tupelo into the cd player, sitting in front of the best
purchase i ever made, & typing this reminder to myself, & then going
downstairs & playing with silly putty for a half hour whilst i talk to my
friends, that's the life for me. you're welcome to join me.
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"the day the geek snapped"
by - creed
lucifer was just an average dude. he was sort of a loser - he didn't
have many friends, but inside he was just like you or me. he didn't like
being named lucifer. it was weird, ya know? he didn't want people thinking
he was the devil or anything. so people called him lou. that's a pretty
average name for an average guy.
lou was a quiet fellow, but he had ideas. lord, did he have ideas!
every day in school, he would tell stories to his friends .. fantasies about
how he wanted to live, how he could do it, et cetera. every kid had some
wild fantasies, but lou was MADE of them. lou lived on his fantasies. he
fed on his fantasies.
people worried about lou. they thought : "what will happen when lou
finds out he will never achieve his fantasies?" "how will lou feel when his
dreams don't come true?" they could never happen. lou's dreams were too
extreme. too radical. but lou was a radical.
one day in the school's morning meeting, lou got pissed. he thought
to himself : "damnit, nobody believes in my fantasies!" "why don't they
believe in my fantasies?!" lou was pretty angry. then, he just snapped.
he realized where his dreams had taken him so far, & he spoke : "fuck man,
i'm not going anywhere!"
a few eyes started to point in lou's direction. lou didn't like it
when people stared at him. lou was PISSED. he stood & screamed :
"HEY LOSERS! YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF K0WS, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU'RE
GOING TO BE CHASING YOUR TAILS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES & I DON'T GIVE A
FUQ! I'M A BELIEVER! I'M GONNA DO WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED! FUQ YEW!@#$@#"
"what a weird kid," people whispered. "he's just a moron. he's
nuts."
lou did exactly what he wanted to do. he lived out a fantasy, just
like he had always known he would. he built a grass hut in the woods, &
lived there. when he was tired, he slept in a bed of leaves. when he was
hungry, he stole from the school cafeteria.
buck naked, like an animal, lou would run into the cafeteria, barge
into the front of the line, & steal his food. everyone knew lou needed to
be stopped, but nobody ever did anything about him. they were too afraid.
they didn't want anything drastic to happen. so the tradition went on. lou
stole his food.
lou lived a happy life. to the school, he became a legend. lou,
however, thought his life was pretty normal. he didn't work, because he had
his food, & he didn't need any luxury to work for. he relaxed for all of
his life. he loved his life. it was no fantasy.
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"to forgive & regret"
by - styx
i want to know why emotional pain physically hurts. who was the
complete asshole that mixed up the two? i, personally, don't think it's
very fair. we should either have a broken-arm-hurt or a wow-i'm-sad hurt.
not a wow-i'm-a-sad-broken-arm hurt. i feel cheated on something, & i don't
know what it is.
example 1: bill the fucker falls out of a tree & breaks his ankle.
bill shouts something because it hurt. namely "fuck!$#"
example 2: bill the fucker falls for a girl & she breaks his heart.
bill shouts something because it hurt. namely "fuck!$#"
what's going on?
maybe people could be more selective with our reactions to certain
things. i'm not even positive what i'm getting at here. something is
bugging me, but it's all mixed up. okay, here :
example 1: julie the fifty-cent hooker is painting her nails in l.a.
when the "big one" hits & her nail polish falls & shatters on
the floor. "fuck!$#," she exclaims.
example 2: julie the fifty-cent hooker is painting her nails in l.a.
when she accidentally drops the nail polish which falls on
the floor & shatters. "fuck!$#," she exclaims.
so i'm not being clear. i'm trying, i promise.
okay. so it's a girl thing. i admit it. read between the lines,
man, it's all there. the nail polish gave it away.
what makes girls cheat so much?
"sometimes they are insecure. they feel the need to be wanted. they aren't
satisfied with their current relationship - their boyfriend is doing
something _wrong_."
what goes through their heads when they do it?
"sometimes revenge. it's their little secret - they're one step ahead of
their boyfriend. sometimes emotional fulfillment. the empty spaces their
boyfriend has not bothered to fill are now being tended to. they feel
whole."
why doesn't the concept of morality & honesty affect them enough to
prevent the cheating from happening?
"the need to feel wanted & fulfilled is extremely strong. when you feel
worthless &/or lonely, things like morality & honesty don't play a large
part in it at all. don't look at it that way. be sensitive - understand
what they are going through."
how come they usually don't tell their boyfriend?
"fear of total rejection. sometimes they really don't want to hurt their
boyfriend at all. it was something they needed to do. what their
boyfriend doesn't know can't hurt him. they don't want to lose him, even
if he doesn't fill in the gaps they need. endangering the relationship is
totally unacceptable."
how can they continue with the relationship knowing that they have
completely betrayed their boyfriend & took advantage of his trust?
"they block it out. it didn't _really_ happen. it wasn't real. there was
no emotional bond between her & the cheatee. he didn't mean anything to
her. it was a temporary need."
can
you
say
bullshit?
good. now i will tell you why you just said "bullshit" & meant it.
there is absolutely no excuse, no matter what the details are, for
cheating on someone you have agreed to have an exclusive relationship with.
none at all. no inner-child shit, no suppressed memory shit, no
feeling-the-need-to-be-wanted shit, nothing.
there's this thing called self-control. it's not that hard to do.
the only reason anyone doesn't have self-control is because they don't
_want_ it. it's there for everyone to take part in.
there is a point where you have to take responsibility for yourself
& how you are. there's nothing you can do about it. whether your father
beat you when you were little or your older brother always got the toy
prizes in count chocula before you got to it & it really fucked you up later
in life, it doesn't matter - it doesn't give you the right to make other
people suffer for the things you've gone through. it's called _dealing with
it_. i don't care what the circumstances are. these freaks are all over
the place & they make me sick.
i have never met a girl that hasn't cheated on someone. that's
absolute fact. i'm sure there are a lot of people that could say the same.
they're not very remorseful & they never really "consider it cheating. it
was different. it's oh-so-hard to explain." so what's the deal?
i have devised a plan & i am carrying it out beginning on valentine's
day. i have labelled it "operation overfuck". from february 14th on, i am
going to attract as many girls as i can, & i will do it constantly. i am
going to make every one of them have genuine feelings for me. then, guess
what? i'm going to fuck them over. they will call me several times a day
crying. they'll ask me why i did such horrible things to them, & you know
what i will say? i will say "be sensitive! when i was little my mom cooked
the cat & made me eat her & i don't know what to do. i'm really confused
right now. i need my space." they will buy self-help books & join therapy
groups & wonder how i could do such a thing & i will be busy fucking over
the next girl by then. i'll send them polaroid pictures of my post-lovers
giving me head. it will be a continuous cycle until the whole female
population comes crawling back to men realizing how much they've sucked, &
i'll be the one to thank.
watch it, women. i'm coming. hear me roar.
p.s. - btw if their r n-e woman out their dat like funy cute guyz
pleeze reply 2 me in mail!!!!????????...........thanx!!!!!
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"the chaos theory ; friday, july 15"
by - eerie
"you're going to wait quite a bit here."
i haven't noticed her presence. turned my head.
"there's no more buses until, like, tomorrow."
"oh, really?"
it was one am, it was hot, it's been hot for the entire day & my body
was still dying from this heat, even that late. she has a very likeable
smile, & ingenuously invited me to sleep over at her place. i accepted.
as we walked to her apartment i examined her. saw her once or twice
around here, maybe talked to her, said what i have no idea, it was colorless
& odorless. she wore an overall that was as black as her hair grazing her
elbows, & a blue & white striped t-shirt. her face was exceptionally
pretty, a mix of purity & minor imperfections. haven't said a word while we
walked the 14st street. she stopped in front of a building, took out her
keys from her pockets, & opened the door. we went up to the third floor, &
finally ended up in her apartment - two rooms, sober & white, well-ordered.
inside it was hot so she turned on the fan that was on the border of her
sleeping room window.
"would it be too much to ask to know exactly why you let me in here?"
"no. it's only because you need a place to sleep."
her answer made me sound ridiculous. she moved to the kitchen & i
followed her. she offered me something to drink.
"the heat outside is infernal."
i couldn't see what to answer to that assertion. i don't exactly
enjoy talking about the weather. so i only supported with a "yes."
"when you go for a walk you feel the death, you see it."
"i know."
she looked stunned by my answer for like two seconds, then, her
serious tone back, she added :
"i'm in peril of death. everywhere i'm going i know he's waiting for
me. i can't cloister myself. he'd find me."
"who?"
"i don't know. i see him often, outside."
she didn't look panicked. those words would have logically been
spoken by an hysterical mouth. not now. like she was conscious of a
reality she would never run away from, because it's a vital part of her.
"i don't know who he is. but i know he wants to rape me, then kill
me."
i fixed her with an inquisitive look.
"you think i'm a fool, right?"
"i don't think so."
"astonishing."
her voice became timid.
"i'd understand if you thought i'm a fool. but i swear - "
didn't though she was a fool or anything, but didn't want to go
through the "you're no fool, girlie" type of conversation. it wasn't the right
moment, & anyway, i knew she wasn't a fool.
"i feel more & more alone."
i looked at the table, desperately seeking for something to say.
"i could answer something here, but it would be especially unuseful,
in my honest opinion."
"don't say anything."
"i could, like, try to bring your aggressor back to reason."
"why would you do that?"
the cruelty of her question left me puzzled. after all, i was here
just for a night, & then she'd disappear from my life. she smiled.
"oh well, forget it."
"yes. we'll talk about this later."
"if you want so .. though, I'm surprised you believe me."
"why? you lied?"
"i don't know exactly."
she looked desolated for a moment, then repeated her sentence.
insisted more.
"forget it."
i smiled at her, & she had a tiny laugh.
"the bed is right here, if you wanna sleep. 'cause i am asleep."
"all right."
i followed her to her room. she sat on her bed & removed her
sandals. so did i with my shoes on my side of the mattress. i unclothed
myself, so did she, after she turned off the light & drew the curtains,
keeping only her underwear. she laid herself down on the side, half-covered
by her blanket because of the heat, then i lied down too, naked, on my back,
appreciating the draught coming from the ventilator. i could only ask
myself how that unreal an adventure could happen to me, & the sexual desire
of her pretty breasts, medium & firm, would make me feel was reaching
exponential values for they were conjugate with her paranoid state.
"hug me."
obeyed to her little panicked voice. while she was inside my arms,
her face on my shoulder, i felt one of her tears running on my skin. i
hugged her more. she seemed more calm, closed her eyes & felt asleep a few
minutes after. i stayed awake for half an hour, trying to analyse her case
with some set-back. she wasn't stupid, she seemed very intelligent indeed.
the erection i had since all that time, & which she may have tacitly
noticed, subsided, let me calmed, & i sank into slumber.
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"my name is mud"
by - murmur
you are in hell. satan is here. you have a cow. there are no exists.
> throw cow at satan
you throw the cow at satan.
satan is angry & rams you up the ass with his pitchfork.
you are in hell. satan is here. there are no exits.
> drink pepsi
there is no pepsi in hell.
satan laughs at you.
you are in hell. satan is here. there are no exits.
> go west
there is no pepsi in hell.
satan laughs at you.
you are in hell. satan is here. there are no exits.
> limbo
satan is angry & rams you up the ass with his pitchfork.
you are in hell. satan is here. there are no exits.
> look satan
satan is big & red & has horns & a tail. there is a knee in his mouth.
you are in hell. satan is here, chewing on a knee. there are no exits.
> take knee
you steal the knee from satan's mouth.
satan laughs at you.
satan is angry & sets you on fire.
you are in hell. you are on fire. satan is here. you have a knee.
there are no exits.
> throw knee at satan
you throw the knee at satan.
satan laughs at you.
satan is angry & rips your arms off & eats them.
you are in hell. you are on fire & have no arms. there are no exits.
> die
you attempt to die, but you are already dead.
satan laughs at you.
you are in hell. you are on fire & have no arms. there are no exits.
> xyzzy
nothing happens.
satan laughs at you.
you are in hell. you are on fire & have no arms. there are no exits.
> beckon jesus
you beckon jesus. jesus arrives. jesus laughs at you & leaves.
satan laughs at you.
you are in hell. you are on fire & have no arms. there are no exits.
> quit
you quit the game.
you are in your room. in front of you is a 133 mhz pentium with a 1.6 gb
hard drive. you are a warez courier. rattle is here. you can exit west.
> courier
j00 l4m4h!
you are in your room. you are on fire & have no arms. you are a warez
courier. you can exit west.
you're feeling hungry.
> /j #oldwarez
j00 l4m4h!
jesus laughs at you.
satan laughs at you.
you are an idiot. you can exit west.
> go west
you are in las vegas, being raped by a large samoan man. you are on fire &
have no arms.
> xyzzy
nothing happens.
jesus laughs at you.
satan laughs at you.
nixon laughs at you.
you are in las vegas, being raped by two large samoan men. you are on fire
& have no arms.
> quit
nothing happens.
i laugh at you.
jesus laughs at you.
satan laughs at you.
nixon laughs at you.
kurdt laughs at you.
you are in las vegas, lying in a heap. you have no arms. there is one
exit, but you are two weak to reach it.
> fnord
THE PRETTY SCREWDRIVER STEALS THE FIREPLACE & TAKES IT TO 1600 PENNSYLVANIA
AVENUE.
*** unrecoverable error 14 ***
*** d00dl3b0y detected ***
*** self-destruct mode engaged ***
*** kill yourself now or die ***
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"hapless in the hands of some kind of god"
by - crank
it's dark in her room. the only sounds to be heard are her gentle
sobs & the bubbling of the fishtank. in a way, they're the same ; the
filter cleansing the water just as her tears try to cleanse away the pain
she feels. maybe her filter is broken.
midnight has come & gone. she may be the only person left alive in
the entire world, there is such silence. blotting her eyes under her
glasses, she again looks to the screen. the words she wrote so long ago
shine forth with a brilliance she has since lost amid the confusion &
salacious everyday rantings of those with whom she comes in contact. she
reads.
.. me, it is wonderful, it's all so flawless, i wrap my arms
tighter around him as well and can feel his heartbeat, its
quickening pace matching that of his breathing, i believe
my heart is beating in sync with his, i like that. i feel
closer to him than i have ever felt to anyone before and it
is perfect, pure, i never want this to end, just let it go
on forever, please, i would give anything, just to have him
always. all my barriers, those i set up to protect me, have
fallen. there is no need for them. i can be me. alone
with him, i can be me.
her face breaks again as she stifles a sob. it's so vivid, still so
clear in her mind. after everything she's been through & all she has tried,
she cannot forget every nuance of the setting, every degree of emotion she
felt during the time. it rings true & hot in her mind, but it's smirking at
her, threatening to never leave.
she is afraid. what will come of this? is she here?
shaking & crying, she switches windows on her computer & dials a
number with her modem. maybe she can talk, let some of it out.
CONNECT 14400/ARQ/V32/LAPM/V42BIS
ansi detected.
**EMSI_IRQ8E08
**EMSI_IRQ8E08
patiently she gives the system the pertinent information & chat pages
her friend upon login. no one answers. not surprising, considering the
hour. she types 'mail' & writes to him. he'll be there for her when he
wakes up. he'll reply & his reply will help her.
struggling with words, she types through her tears & tries to the
best of her ability to tell him what she feels. it hurts. this is the
essence of pain, the core. sometimes she denies it, but still she can feel.
god he's so perfect youc an't even jus tlook at him tos ee
that he;s everything delightful he;s everythign i need is
that what's wrong wtih me..if he's everything i need,
notjing left, that's it....then i have nothing. empty hollow
lishia nothing girl empty and the shell of whats left is
tainted with the touch of others.....
she knows she has to stop. it can't continue like this. every time
she allows herself to fall into this, it only digs her deeper, feeling more
pain & finding less salvation. make it stop. "it can't." - it will. it
will?
she can feel th ehair on his body the light soft downy blond
hairs i can feel them too with her hands they're behind me
on my bed it's hers too but hers is in artificial lamp light
while mine resides in darkness i cant turn aroudn it it''ll
fuckeverythingupno SHCCCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
what's happening to her? tears pour down her cheeks but they're not
the cleansing tears she thought they once were, that they should be. things
are not as they should be.
she runs a hand through her tangled hair. the outside is clean, but
the inside is so dirty, so used, misused. what is the thrill? what did he
get from becoming so close to her & then running away, laughing? why did
he? did he have a choice?
"it's not his fault. it's mine," she thinks to herself. she
believes in her lunacies.
this is so much more than sexual nothing can be like this
for me ever again i cant it cant be it jsut doesn't work
like that twice in someones life it s not right ow tears
stream down my fcace hes gone hes lost iwill neverseehimagain
its not FAIRfairfair i wnat him back hes mine he gave himself
to me and now he cant take it back he doesnt belong to him
nymore
he is scared like me scaredcasacred
sacred
he is sacred
i still love him
stopping briefly, she reaches over for another tissue. the reptile
heat lamp next to her casts a diffused pink light towards her. an early
morning glow is beginning outside her windows. the monitor upon which she
types is eerily bright. there is too much light in the room & it doesn't
match her mood anymore. she strives for darkness. in darkness she can feel
almost normal, almost how she should.
although she's sitting before her computer, her eyes have a far-off
look, a distance to them that usually scares others, but she is alone
tonight. no one will leap to her rescue & save her if she falls .. or if
she jumps. she isn't looking through her eyes anymore.
god......how can i let him do this to me ..hes more than me..
theres got to be a reason somewhere but no one will tell me
im not iimportant enough to kow i cant it's classified onlu
to peoplewho arehnt fucked up wrong broken bent turned around
msed up oh god i amlost turned aroudn
looks over her words. tried to type 'i almost'. why did she
type 'i am lost'? curious. shakes it off. continues.
they're right behind me laying on my bed i cna't turn around
it'll shatter everything oh god..dontlook they can't see me
the room is lit for them but it's dark for me lights out
darkness click she's on top of him thighs pressed t o thighs
its' not fair why can i remember this so well it cant god. ohh
she bit his neck
her stomach is tied up in knots from the rush of emotions she's been
experiencing coupled with her last meal being some twelve hours previous.
her knees hurt from being bent in the same position for so long & her back
is weary from lack of movement, but the physical discomfort is barely
noticeable when compared to what's happening inside her heart & her brain.
she blots her tears with the balled-up tissue in her fist.
shee..why can she feel it again but i cannot except through
her...i want him back as mine howhe was suppsed to be, mine
mememe he loved me said 'if i told you i loved you, would
you know exactly what i meant' and i did yes i know whats
wrong what s happening to you i know and so i say yes and it
stops ends there i knew but did i
what does it mean
what does it mean? she stops to consider, to try to pull some true
meaning from the words she types, reasons for his dismissal of her, why he
could know what would happen yet condone it regardless. this is not the
same person she spoke with through so many long nights. this can't be the
same man with whom she cried. the person he is now wouldn't allow himself
to feel these things. maybe that was the problem.
maybe he was afraid of being left again. is that why he left first?
did she get too close? she didn't intrude, she made sure of it. she only
drew closer when he asked her to do so. then why did he write that song so
many days later? "i let her get too close .. don't let anyone get that
close .. "
she turns back to the computer & feeds the cursor. her hands are
shaking. she inhales deeply. maybe she's the one who changed. maybe she
changed him.
he whisperd something to her an she shuddered on the bed
behind me i felt the shudder i heard his hot breath but i
coudn't hear what he said this time i know what it was
though i knwo hwat he said that made her shudder on the bed
behind me
why must it be like this? what has she done to deserve such a
terrific fate as this? there are so many unanswered questions. does he
have the answer? it doesn't much matter as he wouldn't tell her. not now.
would he ever have? she wonders just how cruel he can be. does he like to
do this?
surely if there's a person it must be you she thinks & he hears her
imbecilic musings. he was her person. he knew everything without being
told. she had let him in & he hadn't done so much as muss her hair until
now. there was no warning, maybe that was the most horrific part of it all.
there should have been signs, something to tell her he was not who he
seemed. he knew her so well.
what does it mean
indeed. is this merely a test of her recovery abilities? who sent
him? who told him what to do ; who is his programmer? will she continue
from here? what _does_ it mean? is he a symbol for the rest of the world's
feelings towards her? does he even exist? does she? does anyone?
are we all just a dream sequence?
softlips smallteeth skinsilk sacred touch flesh feel love
adore worship feel touch slide move stretch feel sighcontent
feel lookatgodhesgorgeous perfect sobeautiful
a final tear leaves a damp trail as it slides down her face. she is
finished crying for tonight. her bed awaits.
shes thining of something ver private she she needs him to
feel this
feel
they're ogne
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"parsley - condiments ; chapter 173"
by - murmur
it is in these hills that they dig, far from the maddening stork.
but do the concern themselves? no, for the bread has been made filling with
much iron. art thou stubborn? nay, cries the tin foil, neigh cries the
punter - & why shouldn't they? this is the new republic, the dawning of an
age where skepticism is as much of a crime as murder. but the worst crime
is pepsi, a foul substance. do they care? not here, for it is in these
hills that they investigate the remains, the remains of an afterlife that
has not yet happened, but an afterlife that will become fluffy in due time.
yes, due time, it's all that matters to frank. frank digs for the truth, a
truth he will one day obtain. or will he? will he eat his steak, or treat
it like the garnish it is? perhaps not. perhaps that *is* the secret.
perhaps he has managed to succumb to the demands of his tormentors, his
friends, & his lovers - & they're all his lovers, for, they all love.
potted meat, potted meat, wherefore art thou potted meat? frank, he was
rushed by the rattle, but he fights on, he fights for freedom & triumph. he
will never succeed, but he is destined not to fail. destiny.
moral : i've gotta rhumba, give me that rhubarb.
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"demons breed at computer city"
by - crank
"three hundred forty meg hard drive," it whispers.
you know nothing of my pain!
that's hardly anything!
you'll never be complete!
you are worth nothing!
"three year warranty," it tells.
how could you let this continue?
there are no warranties on this!
you cannot warrant my love!
you cannot guarantee my sanctity!
"simple home installation." it screams at me!
.. & with one piercing cry into the night, i die.
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|___ _
please direct all dto correspondence towards - doomed@voicenet.com
doomed to obscurity, p.o. box 1943, philadelphia, pa 19103
call that stupid place - doomed to obscurity's bbs system - 215-985-0462
to get on the dto mailing list - send mail to dto@prism.net with
the body of the message saying "subscribe dto".
(c) copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved.
"better living through sheer idiocy & a whole lot of free time."
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