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.:| pez magazine |:.
.:| issue #022 |:.
.:| released 04/12/95 |:.
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pez magazine % issue twenty-two % released april xx, nineteen-ninety-five %
president and head writer :: black francis % head editor :: dead cheese %
contributers for this issue :: mogel % all rights reserved, but two wrongs
don't make a right % pez magazine whq - goat blowers anonymous @ 2157500392
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included in this issue of pez magazine; the big reet pez goodbye
announcement, francis rips on ansi-'zines - kinda, a proposal for change,
death, carnage, maiming, sex with amputees, what's hot and what's not,
beastiality, necrophilia, taco bell, quantum physics, pop-tarts, skinny
women and sex, the seven spikes of boognish, francis' hit list, an ode to
pip the angry youth, randomness, the warez song, a final music commentary,
pavement, greets, all the secrets of spam uncovered, submissions too shitty
to be seen in my beautiful 'zine, invaluable information for warez doods,
zany hi-jinx, and other stuff that black francis finds amusing!
you should be thanking us you slimy, greasy, worthless, pathetic, little
worm.
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welcome, once again, kids. i'm black francis and i'll be your captain on
the good ship pez for this lovely evening. uh, or day. whatever it happens
to be while you're reading this. let's get straight to the point here.
this is the very last issue of pez magazine. i like to keep these things
pretty short, so instead of yapping about it here, just read the next
article. go on. go read it. i can't hold your hand all the time, you
know.
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red was a good idea whose time has not yet come. _i_ thought that red was
the perfect chance for people to speak their mind about whatever they like
and have people all over the country see it. apartantly, i am not in the
majority. it just never caught on. oh well. life goes on.
i guess i was partialy to blame for the whole failure of red. after
all - i am the president and founder and stuff. the problem is/was, that i
started red in about a day. it was an on-a-whim type of thing. i had one
file ready to go, i only had one member (myself), and that was red right
about there. not much of a t-file group, i suppose, but, my intentions were
good. i'm not one of these people that are out starting groups strictly so
they can become well-known in the computer "scene". that's not me at all.
you'll probably understand why i started it in the first place after you
read my editorial on ansi mags in this issue. if not - i may as well tell
you now. i felt that e-zines are one of the greatest ways for the average
joe to get himself heard. they cost absolutely nothing to run - and they
can reach almost anyone as long as they have a computer and a modem. why
someone would waste this opportunity to review colored blocks is beyond me,
but, i'll bitch about that later.
all whining aside - i'm through with red/pez, whatever you know it as.
i'm basically the only writer, and i'm way too busy to keep it going on my
own. dead cheese is too wrapped up in muds to help out, i haven't heard
from intestinal scum-mokey in months, and that's about it. mogel wrote an
issue, a few people promised me an issue or so, and everyone else wrote
something for me and then quit. blah to them. maybe some day when i
know what the fuck i'm doing, i'll start up another t-file group. there
aren't enough good 'zines out there. nothing really entertains me, except
for gasp, and that's only when pip writes, hoe has turned "serious", and,
uh, i can't really think of any more 'zines. well, besides cdc, they go
without saying. if i ever do start up a 'zine again, it won't be for a
while. i'm going to gather up some of my best writing, gather up some loyal
writers, make sure everything is in check, and then start one up again. the
last thing i need is another failure like this piece of shit 'zine. blah.
i'm being too hard on myself.
i bet you're thinking to yourself, "hey. there was absolutely nothing
funny in that last article." well, genius, you're right. i wasn't trying
to be funny - just honest - which i think more people should be nowadays.
here's a prime example - out of all the people on #ansi on a friday evening,
nobody would admit to masturbating. now, please, it's a friday night and
you're sitting home on the irc! i certainly hope you masturbate! if
not - i really wonder what you do with all the sexual fustrations that come
standard with every teenage boy, and on that note, i'll let you continue on
with the final issue of pez magazine.
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i took a long break from editorials, and a general bitchy out-pouring of
pent up anger is just bubbling to get out of me. i really think this topic
has to be discussed, so, here goes:
it's a virtual destop rebellion. thousands of people are taking the
press into their own hands and releasing 'zines. both on paper form and
electronic form. some more well-known than others. hell - phrack and cdc
are household names. well, ok, maybe not, but they are well-known. there's
a 'zine for everybody now. probably the most common subject of 'zines is
music. that goes without saying, but, there're 'zines on everything from
psychopathic moms to poetry, concerts to canine tragedys, and anorexia to..
dare i say it? ansi. it seems that you can't escape from them. everywhere
you look, it's a new ansi 'zine. ack! i'm sure the ansi-'zine trend will
blow over in due time, but, it's the fact these people have the power of
mass communication in their hands, and they use it reviewing colored blocks!
gee, who made the best colored blocks this month? hmm. boy. how many
different ansi mags does it take to say "hey, somms did a real nice ansi
this month."? if it wasn't for the programming, er, i mean, "coding", then
there would be no difference whatsoever. i read abot two ansi mags not too
long back, and i was sick of them already. imagine that. sit down, kids,
why francis tells you a story. it's the story of thomas paine. maybe
you've heard of him. maybe you haven't.
in 1776, thomas paine, a radical long hair if there ever was one,
published "common sense", an impassioned call to ditch the bristish. thomas
paine was the first true "editor-rebel". he almost died for freedom of the
press. maybe that doesn't mean anything to any of you, but it says a lot to
me. jesus, i sound patriotic. eek!
anyway, what thomas paine almost died for, we use and abuse like it's
nothing. you probably can't even begin to fathom the power that mass
communication holds. while i know i'm surely not capable of something like
a revolution, in the right hands, the thoughts and words of one man could
change the world. it's not as unbelievable as it sounds.
hey. if it wasn't for phrack - i wouldn't be able to hack a vmb. if it
wasn't for cult of the dead cow - i wouldn't have a copy of "fuck the world"
hanging in my locker at school. it gave me a whole new outlook on life.
really. that's the kind of power inveloped in mass communication, and with
most households having at least one computer, it's dirt cheap and easier
than ever to get your word across. even if you want to do something as
simple as explain the differences between your favorite soups - you're
making a difference! trust me!
so, please, i beg of you. before you go and start yet another ansi
'zine, think about what you really want to say to the world. think long and
hard about it.
remember, kids, it's more helpful than it is funny.
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here are some things that have been on my mind, yet, not important enough
for me to devote my time to writing an editorial about them ::
i really hate this new "grunge/thrift store" fashion trend. now it's
impossible to tell if a girl is really grungy and dirty and stuff, or if
she's just really fashionable.
speaking of the whole thrift store thing; that's where i get my clothes.
the thrift store and sometimes i get jeans at the gap. people call me
trendy and stuff and say i dress weird just to get attention and what-not,
but, actually, i just don't have any taste in clothes. so there.
really skinny women are too hard to have sex with.
there aren't enough bass players out there.
a taco at taco bell costs less than a can of dog food. now, that's
scary. very scary.
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the blinking cursor beckons me, yet, i can't think of shit to write.
writers block should be outlawed. right along with periods. not periods as
in the punctuation, silly. periods as in menstrual cycles. bah. you
know - when your "woman" is bleeding profusely. i won't elaborate because
it'll just piss me off more than it already does. ok. maybe outlawing them
is a little harsh, but don't you think once a month is just a tad too
frequent? i'm lucky if i can get a good shit in every month. bah, once
again.
boredom breeds inginuity. that's how soap on a rope was invented, i
think. i could be wrong.
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meat is murder, and murder tastes really good with an order of large
fries and a sprite.
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the ten most popular warez dood pick-up lines ::
10. why don't you come back to my place for some 0-1 day lovin'?
9. i move faster than razor 1911, baby.
8. come back to my place and i'll show you a working copy of windows '95.
7. hey baby - got any doom wads?
6. i bet you look real pretty in your underwarez.
5. where'z the warez?
4. i could courier you into bed faster than dos 7.0.
3. i phear mogel!
2. i have a 0-1 inch penis.
1. come on, baby, add me to your batch.
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:: the world according to spam ::
:: submitted by :: dead cheese ::
spam! the world according to...
\
/ \ ||==\\ /\ ||\ /|| spam!
| |\| || O || //\\ ||\\ //|| /
\ \ ||==// // \\ || \\ // ||
/ |\| | || //====\\ || \\// || - spam!
spam! \ / || // \\ || \/ ||
/ | \
spam! spam! spam!
oink grunt snort, sniff. snort oink wheeze grunt hog.
snort grunt sniff. oink.
- jalopy the aged
(circa 47 b.s.)
"gather 'round my spamlings. spamfather has a story for you all," said
the old, rusty can of spam. all the little 1 oz. cans of spam gathered
around the old, rusty value size spam known only as spamfather. even some
of the adult cans of spam scooted over to where spamfather sat on the shelf
to hear the story they had heard many times since since the first time
spamfather told them -- for, at one time, they too were little spamlings.
nobody knew how long spamfather had been sitting on that shelf in a small
grocery store owned and operated by an elderly korean man. some said
spamfather was older than the store -- That he had been borne from the great
hog's breath fully a year before the korean man (then a young man) had
started the small store. nobody knew spamfather's real name either. there
had always been rumors on this topic. most thought his real name was julio.
some thought it was fred.
whatever his name might have been, he was the most respected spam on the
shelf. He had been sitting on that shelf, in the same spot, since before any
of the present spams had been borne of the hog. any spam that might have
been present when spamfather was a spamling had long since disappeared due to
being sold, little debbie raids, or even... the bleakness.
"what is it, spamfather? what have you to tell us?" asked the spamlings.
"it is time, my spamlings, for you to learn the secret of spam. I
suffered much for this knowledge. all grown spams know of our origins. now
it is your time to learn the secret of the spam," explained spamfather.
and this is what he said. . .
"in the beginning, there was pork. lots of it. so much pork you could
feed a small nation on it for years. . . or make a quick lunch for dom
deluise. the great hog had created the swine in his image. The swine were a
never-ending supply of food to him, and his chefs had developed many tasty
recipes using the meat of the swine, called pork, which frequently involved
chee-tos, chocolate, fecal matter, and fava beans. but the swine were not
pleasing to the great hog. they pooped too much. he decided to alter them.
"he strode into his great kitchens and began to create. he started with a
bad cut of pork, adding bits of pork stock which include such tasty parts of
swine as the foot, ears, intestines, anus, tail, and the penis. He added
spices, monosodium glutamate, natural flavorings, and. . . A secret
ingredient of his own creation.
"upon tasting his new recipe, the great hog exclaimed, 'this is something
wonderful I have made! It's spicy! It's ham! It tastes like dog food! I
shall call it spam!'
"he called for his chefs to come taste his wonderful, new creation. many
squealed in delight at the pleasant aroma and unappealing taste of the spam.
most retched on the floor.
"never the less, the great hog commanded that his spam should be canned
and sold to middle to lower class families around the world. it should have
the word 'spam' in big letters on the front, along with a picture of spam
that has been cooked like ham. . . only it's spam so it has an unearthly red
color to it.
"spam swept the grocery stores of the world like wildfire. it became the
official food of the southern american rednecks. blue-collar, white, family
men were clamoring to bring this nectar of the hog back to their respective
families so that their wives might beat them about the head with the cans,
and so their children might blow chunks into their faces in disgust. debates
were fought over kitchen counters, battles waged on such fields of glory as
dining room tables and living room floors, as to the identity of the secret
ingredient that gave spam such a distinctive taste.
"and what is this secret ingredient, you ask, my spamlings? This
mysterious additive that has caused such strife in homes across this glorious
earth? the very lifeblood that courses through our flesh? why, this
wondrous mystery of spam is quite simple, really. . . it's urine! that's
right, my little spamlings! urine! but, not just any urine. goodness, no.
it's the urine of the great hog!
"you now know what we mean when we say that all spam is borne of the hog.
you are all very special, what with the great hog's pee-pee invigorating your
bodies, as are we all. fight little debbie, control the bleakness, and be
eaten with pride, my spams. for that is what you are. you are spam."
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:: rejected submissions ::
:: submitted by :: dead cheese ::
occasionally, we here at pez get submissions for articles that don't quite
meet the quality standards we like to adhere to. we've decided to compile
some of the better ones and share them with you, because, frankly, we love
you wacky kids. here you go;
[-----]
straight from the hood
yo, yo, yo. i was hittin' da skinz wit' some hoes down in da hood da
other day. some dumb niggaz come crashin' in whiles I was smackin' dat ass
and i was like, "yo, what da fuck?"
nigga sez, "we here ta bus' some headz."
so I screamz, "shit, bitch! i was waxin' some booty 'for you came bussin'
in here like some fucked up crack-head. if you don't getch yo ass outta dis
hole 'for i get my pantz back on, i bus' yo headz and knock dat shit up yo
ass while i'm at it."
other nigga don't like dat, 'cuz he was fucked up scared of my skillz, so
he sez, "what da fuck you sayin', bitch? we gots da shit in our hands and
allz you gots in yo hand is yo tiny dick!
"now we gots da meat dat you was scoutin' out some o' our boyz ta gets
some shit'a somethin'. i don't know what shit you was gonta get from our
boyz, but we's gonna take dis shit and shoot it up dat azz o' yo'z 'til you
know dat we don't take dat shit."
by then I had my pantz on, so I rips out my tech 9 and pumps up both niggaz
wit' some iron-enriched pig killaz. they wasn't quick 'nuff ta bust my
skillz, (hell, i was rippin' dat shit up!) but one o' them knocked a bullet
inta one o' da hoes' legs. i tol' dat bitch ta get da fuck off my bed 'for I
smacked dat shit. both hoes got up runnin' and yellin', but i grabs the one
dat weren't hurt and waxed dat ass sumptin' stoopit for da res' o' da night.
damn, dat shit was phat.
- riboflava -
[-----]
sum reely gud jokes
mom jokes
1) yuor moms so stupid she isnt very smart.
2) yuor moms so fat shes overwate by like a hundrit pownds.
3) yuor moms so stupid she cant rite gud.
6) yuor moms teef are so yello thayr like reely yello teef.
5) yuor moms so dum she cals me fred but my names not fred its jim.
polish jokes
1) did yu heer the one abowt the polish man in cherch? he was like reely
dum.
2) ones thayr was a wuman hoo livd in a big hows on a big hill. evryone
thawt she was reely dum. but she was becus shes polish.
3) did yu ever see a cup made in polund? thay make like reely dum cups.
6) i ones had a gerlfrend hoo was polish. she was so stupid I cald her a
dum head.
5) ones thayr was a gye hoo livd ness dor too a polish gye. the gye bawt a
nu car end brawt the polish gye over too luk at it. the gye seys hay
luk at wut I got. so the polish gye seys wut is that? becuz he was so
dum he didnt no wut a car lukd like.
-Capten Dumass
[-----]
applelicious
ever see those commercials for apple jacks cereal? in each one, the whole
damn thing is about why the group of kids likes apple jacks cereal so much.
this is the plot of each commercial:
some older dork comes up to a bunch of younger kids who happen to be
eating apple jacks. this older person asks the kids why they like
apple jacks so much. then some "trivia show/time to answer" music
comes on. after a few seconds of trivia music, the kids come up with
the inevitable rebel answer. . . "we just do, okay?" then some
guitar screeches and the kids pose for a group photo with their apple
jacks. the photo is labeled something like "apple jacks '94."
oh joy. almost as bad as the god damned mentos commercials (see red #3).
i decided to find out just exactly why those damned kids likes the apple
jacks so much. i went to my local supermarket and grabbed a box of apple
jacks. i'm not sure if I paid for it--that dude in the blue vest was pretty
pissed--but that's not what's important. it's the damned cereal I'm testing
here.
i brought the box home and opened it up. i took out a red-speckled O. i
ate it. it was good. i still didn't know why the kids liked apple jacks. i
took out another. it was good. i still didn't know why the kids liked apple
jacks. i took out another. it was good. i still didn't know why the kids
liked apple jacks. i took out another. it was good. i still didn't know
why the kids liked apple jacks. i took out another. it was good. i still
didn't know why the kids liked apple jacks. i took out another. it was
good. i still didn't know why the kids liked apple jacks. i took out
another. it was good. i still didn't know why the kids liked apple jacks.
i took out another. it was good. i still didn't know why the kids liked
apple jacks. i took out anoth////// <--- editor's note:
whoa there, sparky! we'd just like to cut in here because the
article goes on for another 2,500 or so apple jacks. let's just cut
to the chase, shall we?
//////didn't know why the kids liked apple jacks. i took out another. it
was good. in fact, it was damn good. it sparkled in my mouth like the dried
urine of sewer rats. it raced my blood like the alcohol that kills so many.
i had found it. apple jacks were good because my armpits can talk. they
race to pork 'n beans that fill my every emotion. my shining toenail had
flaunted its last. there's a time for every poop. a time in timbuktoo.
turn, turn, turn. rotate. revolve. spin. the black circle. willy-woo?
eat--my--vines!
- flapjack
[-----]
alright, alright. maybe we "edited" a few of them. and maybe, just
maybe, we wrote a couple. and there's a SLIGHT possibility that dead
cheese wrote every damn one of them, but we doubt it. nobody is _that_
stupid.
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black francis' "what's hot and what's not as entirely cool as the stuff
in the hot section of the list" list for april. remember - the views
expressed in this article are entirely that of the author and if you don't
like it or don't agree, you're a complete idiot.
hot! not!
~~~~ ~~~~
agnst pain
dead celebrities talented celebrities
edicius <cia> edicius <cia>
stuff i like stuff you like
pop-tarts toast-ems
black francis everyone else
bi-sexuals necrophiliacs
being gothic being original
quantum physics the brady bunch
retro 80's retro 80's
that's about as comprehensive as it gets, stupid! now go outside and
make some friends - pronto!
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here's an excerpt from an article i found while rummaging through an
issue of "blaster" magazine about teenage sysops. it profiles one
"dexamphetamine" aka "the stallion" from 707, wherever that may be. he runs
a board called "the 7 spikes of boognish" and if you know this person,
please kill him. he is giving all of us a bad name. please read on ::
[----]
"run by the 15 year-old stallion, the 7 spikes of boognish is devoted to
truely odd denizens of the ethery underworld.
`most of them are crack-head pyschos who think in a slightly different
dimension,' writes the stallion. `the 7 spikes of boognish is a hangout
where ya can jive with your fellow criminally insane punks.'
the stallion takes pride in the fact that he has provided for himself
`the only bbs in 707 area code that i think is neat.' his idea of culture
and originality is, oh, shall we say... different. `the 7 spikes has the
most uniquely negative and repulsive atmosphere i've ever seen. it's like a
hard blow to the groin. it all boils down to one thing: who can strike
below the belt first?'
the stallion's online persona reeks of cold, heartless violence. he
writes in his own cryptic way: "i see people, and if they're a luzer, i want
to kill them. from then, it's just up to the voices in my haid to see what
happens. i ain't no college boy. sometimes i think i'm back in 'nam even
though i never was.'"
[----]
kill him. please. soon. i'll pay you. in case you do live in 707, or
at least call 707, you may want to call and pester him or make death threats
or something constructive. the number for the 7 spikes of boognish is
(707)575-6916. speaking of death..
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if anybody would kill the following people, i would greatly appreciate
it. i'd even be willing to trade you an ascii. thank you.
frannie's hit list!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the offspring,
collective soul,
dexamphetamine,
that g.e. smith guy from snl,
the entire cast of the brady bunch,
madonna,
every single wigger on the face of the earth,
fulgore/fullblood/marijuana/dark shadow.
i'll update you as i think of more people that are unworthy of the gift
of life. hate is fun!
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ode to pip the angry youth ::
pip. pip.
pip is really hip.
i payed $11 for the sponge album,
and boy was it a jyp.
my little sister likes to skip.
my little brother likes to flip.
but, me. yes, me.
all i like is pip!
i'm going to go apply for a lit. group or something now.
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:: mogel's random story time ::
:: submitted by :: mogel ::
once upon a long time ago, there was a company that didn't like the
company it was in and a man who had a plan to no longer be a man. there was
also a lot of other people, but we'll get to them later. the man with the
plan had a name of a man and that name was ralph. he was a member of the
company that didn't like the company it was in and he didn't like their
company. so he quit. that's enough about the company.
once upon a time the man with the plan to no longer be a man gave himself
a hand. but, then he found a woman who enjoyed clapping (immensly) and let
her do it for him. for a while he wondered what to do with the two free
hands, but this was a short-lived problem because he soon realized she
wanted applause just as much as he did. so he gave her a hand. the man
with the plan to no longer be a man and who occupied hands decided to take
a guitar and form his own band. this, of course, fell through.
once upon a time, a long time ago, i forgot my own name and read
seventeen lines up and realized it was the same and it came to me while
riding this plane that i've always wished i could fly. but, always is such
a long time ago. one day a man who was tall and made me feel small took in
hand each one of my balls and decided that he was going to squeeze. seeing
as i'm the man with the plan to no longer be a man, you'd think it wouldn't
really bother me, but the plan to not be a man had nothing to do with being
a woman and everything to do with growing wings and flying around heaven. i
don't believe in heaven, or at least i didn't until the woman who enjoyed
clapping (immensly) decided she was going to scream and cheer on my behalf.
once upon a long time ago, december turned into january and i wish there
was more that i could say, but that about sums it up. no longer pissing in
a cast iron cup. so, the company started getting along with it's company
and the man enacted the plan that would no longer make him a man, and now
he's a fan! go figure.
once upon a long time ago, my fingers hurt from typing and i had to pee.
if i was made of doll parts, it would probably be ken or maybe he-man. but,
he-man's an action figure and not a doll so i don't think he-man counts.
damn. some day you will bake like i bake, with a touch of sugar and a
sprinkle of cinnamon!
[----]
well. uhm. that was, uh, different. yeah. different. you know, that
part about he-man and ken got me thinking;
ken has no penis and barbie has no vagina or nipples, but yet, she has
tits. he-man has no sexual organs either, i think. actually, i think he
may have nipples but i'm not sure. i haven't seen a he-man in a while.
but, if i had to guess who got more, i'd have to go with ken. definitely.
she-ra was a bitch.
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the craze that's sweeping the schoolyard! try it or die!
sing :: the warez on the bus go 'round and 'round. 'round and
'round. 'round and 'round. (repeat until your ears bleed!)
you'll be the envy of your peers!
psst! all credit for that song goes to kaos! he's reet! here are some
other reet songs for you to learn and practice until your parents beat you
silly!
sing :: (sung to the tune of "old macdonald") old macdonald had some
warez. e-i-e-i-o!
sing :: (sung to the tune of "three blind mice") three blind couriers.
three blind couriers. see how they leech! see how they leech!
sing :: (sung to the tune of "girls just wanna have fun") warez, just
wana have fuh-uhn. oh, warez just wanna have fun.
hoo-hah! now, if you have even a smidget of intelligence and wit, you'll
be able to make up your own warez songs from the comfort of your own home.
now get too it, stupid!
============================================================================
============================================================================
your taste in music _sucks_! you're a loser, and you listen to crappy
music, and you'll never amount to anything, and you're stupid, and you're
just a worthless pile of crappy suckiness waiting to explode into a
supernova of stupidity and wasted sperm. or something. well, maybe that
doesn't fit you to a tee, but, i know it fits most people perfectely. so,
in a random act of kindness and goodwill, i've decided to tell you exactly
what music is worth your time. this lil' list here will help you tonnes to
be more like the amazing slab of cool that i just so happen to be. it'll
also help steer you away from music that'll make you look like even more of
a moron than you already may be.
[-----]
run out and buy these albums now you worthless sheep!
every single pixies album ever made.
the first frank black solo album. self-titled.
the violent femmes; the first self-titled album and add it up. why do
birds sing? isn't so bad, either.
sugar; file under: easy listening.
pavement; slanted & enchanted, crooked rain crooked rain, & wowee zowee.
stuff by matthew sweet.
stuff by other matador artists, like; yo la tengo, bettie serveert,
pizzcato five, superchunk, liz phair, etc.
ween; chocolate and cheese.
the dead milkmen; soul rotation
they might be giants; flood & apollo 18
weezer; weezer
[-----]
stuff you should stay away from like your life depends on it!
anything on the sub-pop label.
nine inch nails. ministry. marilyn manson. general cheeseiness
disguised as industrial/hard rock.
anything that has to do with trent reznor.
sponge; rotting pinata
dream theatre and other crappy 80's wanna-be-metal glam-rock bands.
anything by soundgarden, collective soul, nirvana, and all "alternative"
music all-together.
the offspring, green day, and anyone who claims to be "punk".
r&b, rap, dancehall, and the ilk.
commercial jingles.
80's compilation albums.
anything claiming to be "gothic".
the sound of one hand clapping.
the sound of a tree falling in the forest.
you'll thank me later, fuck-head.
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i just got the new pavement album, "wowee zowee" today, and i like it
tonnes. i thought i should share that with you because i feel this sort of
intimacy with you. this feeling and sense of oneness. because, well,
frankly, i love you.
could i borrow twenty bucks?
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the final super-duper stinky greets ::
these greets are dedicated to the people who keep the 'zine-scene alive.
mainly pip, james hetfield, edicus, mogel, and whoever i may have forgotten.
no! that doesn't include ansi-'zines, stupid!
other insignifigant people i feel the urge to greet; spiff, dash, dead
cheese, socs, morpheus, blurr, tim, and laura. if i forgot to mention you,
you're obviously not important enough for me to remember. stuff _that_ in
your stocking.
jeremy kister is a necrophiliac, stephen turner is a pedophile, and your
mother gives good head. ha ha! i am funny!
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well, that's it for this issue and this 'zine. i hope you found it
somewhat entertaining. if not, why the hell have you read this far?
stupid.
anyway, t'was fun. i guess dead cheese will run off to play muds again,
and i'll, i'll, uh, write for gasp or hoe or something. i guess. i really
hate ditching my own 'zine. the best part about is was that i had total
control over what i wanted people to read and getting my message across to,
uh, however many people read this piece of crap.
peace out, holmes. i'm audi five-thousand.
keep circulating the tapes.
black francis [cia]
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)_) pEZ iZ iN dA hOUSE! wERD 'eM uP! (_(
((______/ ..\ pHOR tHE lATEST pHAT-aZZ pEZ pHILEZ, kALL /.. \______))
| /--( gOAT bLOWERZ aNONYMOUZ @ (215)750-0392 )--\ |
|||---||| "aDMITTING yOU hAVE a pROBLEM iS tHE fIRST |||---|||
M M M M sTEP tO rECOVERY." M M M M
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