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pEz monthly magazine % the best of rEd / pEz
compiled by; black francis
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note; just so you know, i decided which rEd/pEz files should go in
here by reader feedback that i've gotten over the past few months and i'm
not just being egotistical. thank you, and go fuck yourself!
[-----]
:: the plot to kill good music ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #1 - 12/94 ::
don't get me wrong. there is good music out there, but it's in
serious need of some help. someone out there is trying to put a stop to
good music and, damnit, whether i find out who it is or not, i'm dragging
you along for the ride.
as i sit in front of the keyboard, fingers coverEd with that strange
powdery substance on doritos, and blasting the pixies, i can only thank the
big man above for letting some decent groups slip through undetected. but,
unfortunately, that is not the majority. one by one, decent groups are
falling victim to this most odd fate. i didn't really bug me until one day
i was sitting in math, doodling on my notebook, when i hear the chicky
behind me whistling a strangely familiar tune. i have heard the song
before, but for some reason, i couldn't put my finger on it. ok. that
was it. i had to know what she was whistling, so i turned around and
politely asked her, "what are you singing?"
"green day." she said in her bimbo-ish tone of voice.
"oh. ok. uhm.. what song?" i asked again.
"uh.. green day." she replied. it looked to me like her head was
about to explode from thinking too hard.
"i know that. but what song? they have a lot of them, you know." i
was just pushing it now. i could tell she was really thinking about it. i
was afraid the sprinkler system was going to go off if she though about it
any harder.
"you know. green day.. by that group, basket case." she said. she
looked extremely frustrated, so instead of torturing her for her stupidity,
i simply chuckled and continued doodling.
i guess it really hit me later while i was sitting at home feasting
on a snickers bar and watching taz-mania (so i watch cartoons.. got a
problem with that, sparky?) when my slightly younger (four year difference)
sister comes skipping on through the front door singing basket case. i
guess it only really botherEd me because i had caught her the day before
singing "this dj" by warren dogg or whatever. now, this doesn't seem right
to me. i guess i should let her listen to whatever she wants and go on with
my life but, for some reason, i can't. i tossed around the idea of pulling
her aside and bombarding her with green day trivia, but the nice guy in me
took over. i silently went into my room and began to brainstorm.
who's behind this?! i sat back and thought about how many people i
had heard over the week discussing the upcoming nine inch nails concert and
how good their seats were. now wait... hold on a second. i can remember
the days when the only people who listened to nine inch nails were
"headbangers!" what happened? now john and jane gap have pit tickets to
the nin concert?! this must stop! now i was beginning to get pissed off.
in hopes of calming myself, i flicked on the tube. while channel surfing,
it hit me. mtv. mtv!! that's it! it's all their fault! they're the
reason my little sister bought the new soundgarden album! damn them! after
further research, it made perfectly good sense to me. i watched ol' mtv for
a while (something i don't do often) and discoverEd their secret weapon for
the death of good music! buzz clips! buzz clips and their little minions:
alternative nation and 120 minutes! see, buzzclips are so evil because they
take good music, put them at times when little kiddies and your average shmoe
are watching, and play the hell out of them! a world where "nirvana" is a
household name is a world i'd rather not live in. it's times like these
that make me wish rap was popular again.
now, i don't want to come off as saying something like, "i listened
to these groups while they were still playing in the garage and only *i*
should be able to listen to them!" because that's not what i'm saying at
all. it's just that there's a shortage of good music already, yet now we
have somebody trying to kill it by drilling it into everyone's head and
making it become old and pass before it really should. stuff like weezer
should stay around forever because it's great music. when it becomes
trendy, it becomes old fast and nobody wants it anymore... which means
people like me who really appreciate it won't be able to hear anymore of it
either. kinda like the smurfs. they were cool as shit for a while and
then, next thing you know, everyone had a smurf! then, they just weren't
cool anymore. damn, i miss the smurfs. same thing with those freakin'
trolls, but i hate them anyway, so i don't give a shit. well, next thing
you know, my favorite groups are gonna be the next smurfs.
there's a major downfall to all this: we can't do anything about it!
it's not like we can coerce mtv to stop playing it! well, not me. i try to
keep my sister away from good music as much as i can. it may sound drastic,
but c'mon.. she has the new boyz ii men album for crissakes. what makes you
think i should lend her my dinosaur jr. albums just because she likes "feel
the pain"?
on a good note.. uhm.. uh.. nevermind. there isn't a good note. i
guess we just have to see what happens. maybe some psychopathic reader will
go down to ol' mtv hq and torch the place. <sigh>.. one can only hope
(don't try that at home, kids). but, until then, i guess i'll just sit
back, pop the new basket case album in my stereo, and relax.
[-----]
:: how to hack your way out of a paper bag ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #3 - 12/94 ::
someone once told me, that i probably couldn't hack my way out of a
paper bag. so, being the curious little booger i am, i tried it. trust me,
it's not as hard as it sounds. first, make sure you have a paper bag handy.
the easiest kinds to hack are the little tiny cutesy-wutesy lunch bags. the
larger grocery bags are pretty hefty, and rather thick comparEd to the lunch
bags. next, you want to make sure you have a knife. i also found out that
if you have even an ounce of strength, you could probably hack one of those
lunch bags with a plastic spoon.. but i think that's, like, for professional
hackers. anyway, take the knife, and stick it in the bag. make sure you're
still holding onto it - that's very important! finally, poke the sharp end
of the knife through the bag, and thrash away. it's imperative that you use
the sharp end. the end you hold onto is not as sharp, and it hurts your
hand when you hold onto the sharp end. there, you've hacked your way out of
a paper bag! congratulations!
[-----]
dear black francis;
wake up! wake the fuck up! help me, i'm being kidnapped! wake up!
you awake? haha, sorry, just kidding. it's nothing, really. no problem
here.
a car alarm
right outside your apartment
[-----]
:: them damn mentos commercials! ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #3 - 12/94 ::
ok, so it may seem like a pretty lame subject to write about, but i
can't stand it anymore. every time i flick on the tube, it's another
mind-numbing mentos commercial. but, for some reason, i don't change the
channel. what attracts me to each and every dull-yet-fascinating episode
of these eurpoean beauties? they have the annoying yet irresistable charm
of a b-52's video. personally, i think they use hypnotisim through
subliminal messages, but that's just my theory.
who are the geniuses who come up with these things? someone is
getting paid a shitload of money to make these damn commercials. that would
be the best job in the world. i could make up a mentos commercial in 5
seconds, maybe even less, and some bozo is getting paid out his asshole to
do it? ok, let's see. grab a stopwatch. ready? ......go!
guy gets into an accident and gets out of the car and the person he
hit is a lawyer and is going to sue him but then the guy who smacked into
him pulls out a pack of mentos and everything is cool.
ok. time? that could be a personal best, although, that basically
is the plot of every mentos commercial. they just change the idea slightly
for each one. which brings me to the whole idea of carrying a pack of
mentos in case you ever get in some sort of trouble. i tried something,
an experiment, if you will. i went to the 7-11 and bought some mentos.
then, i placed them in my back pocket and continued the rest of the day as i
normally would. here's how it went: (please kids, don't try this at home)
i began the day by going to school as usual. once in school, i
realized i had forgot to do my algebra homework. but, instead of rushing
to do it, i decided to put my mentos into action for the first time. as the
algebra teacher made his rounds, checking homework, i pryed the candies from
my pocket. then, the big moment came;
"justin, where's your homework?" he said.
i don't have it, mr. appelbaum. but, i do have some.. mentos!" i
said, and with blinding speed, i whooped out the mentos and flashed them in
front of his face. he starEd at me blankly for a minute or so. the class
seemed puzzled, almost. like i had just said something in a foreign
language.
"the freshmaker, mr. appelbaum!" i added. he still wouldn't budge.
after standing in front of me for what seemed like an hour saying nothing,
he then finally moved. he scribbled something down in his notebook, and
then moved on. alright! it worked! whee! after wallowing in my own glory
for the rest of the period, the bell rang and i was on my way out of the
door, the teacher called me to his desk.
"alright. here's your detention slip for not doing your homework
today."
once again, i shoved the mentos in his face.
"what are you doing, justin?"
then i broke into a gigantic phoney smile. i stuck the mentos ever
closer to his face, he seemed to be getting edgy.
"will you please get them out of my face?!" he said. then he started
to write me a pass for some reason.
"go to the office, mr. hottenstein will have more patience with you
then i do." he said as he ripped the little yellow piece of paper from the
pad and handed it to me. i put the mentos back into my pocket and continued
to the office. after waiting there while mr. hottenstein yelled and
screamed at some other deliquent, i was called in. without saying anything,
i pulled out the mentos and stuck them about one inch in front of his face.
in a matter of minutes i was home. out of school suspension. ok,
maybe i was sticking the mentos too close to everyone's face, and they
couldn't read the label. so, when my dad got home, i attempted the mentos
trick again. after informing him i had a two day out of school suspension,
i preparEd my mentos.
"a two day out of school suspension? for *what*?" he screamed.
without a word, i smiled, and showed him the mentos. it didn't work. i
found myself grounded for a month, and not being able to go to the helmet
concert. grr..
then i thought maybe i was barking up the wrong tree, so-to-speak.
maybe i should try the power of mentos elsewhere. you know, push them to
their limit. give them a run for their money. so, later that night, i
snuck out (it wasn't easy considering i have a third story aparment - ouch).
so, to *really* test the power of mentos, i went out and robbed a 7-11.
sounds a little extreme, but judging by some of these mentos commercials,
they're pretty powerful. with my trusty rifle in hand, i walked into the
7-11 and began to fire at everything, but sparEd the clerk because, hey, he
sold me the mentos. i told him to call the police, and made sure he
informed them that i had a high-powerEd rifle. not to much later, the
police arrived. ahh.. here we go. i began randomly firing at the cops, and
even took a few of them out. joyous day! when they began to get an
itsy-bitsy too close to hitting me, i pulled the mentos out of my pocket and
ran towards the police, dodging bullets the best that i could.
"i got mentos!" i screamed, trying to talk over the rapid fire of the
police.
"look! mother fucking mentos!!" i screamed once again. i ducked
behind a coca-cola display and took a few mentos out of the package, and
began tossing them at the cops. i think i took out one or two, but it
didn't hold them off for very long. i grasped the last of the mentos, and
leaped up from the behind the display. i raised the mentos in the air like
i was the statue of liberty. the cops stopped firing, and began to look at
each other. just as i thought, it worked! it was just a matter of time.
the adreniline was still pumping, but i knew it was all over. i started to
walk towards the officers, mentos still in hand.
"see? i have mentos. you can relax, boys." i sighed. the cops
looked at me again and smiled.
"the freshmaker." i heard one of them say. then, they their smiles
turned to rather grim frowns. what? what was wrong, damnit?!
"those aren't mentos, buddy. they're those cheap lance mento
ripoffs!" one of them screamed. my heart jumped into my throat. no wonder
they weren't working all day, they're not really mentos!
next thing i knew, everything was moving in slow motion. the cops
began firing at me, using all the firepower they had. they must have put
holes in every part of my body. luckily, i lived, but i'm paralyzed from
the neck down, and i'm typing this from the hospital by twitching my
eyebrows. it takes me about a week to type a full sentence, and it hurts
like a bitch. as for what i did at the 7-11, they let me off. when the
police came to question me at the hospital, i had my friend run down to the
hospital store and get me some real mentos. when they arrived at my room, i
had mentos all over. bouquets made of mentos. mentos taped to the walls.
mentos sewed to my sheets. i was even wearing a hospital gown made of
mentos. needless to say, all charges were dropped, and i'm essentially a
free man. well, judging by the immense pain in my eyebrows, it's time to
take my medicine again. so, until next time, adios, and remember: be
preparEd! - carry mentos wherever you go.
[-----]
:: teen angst for fun and profit! ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #6 - 1/95 ::
ah well, i guess i'll have to take a break from writing my suicide
letter to make this stupid article. i hate this article! i hate the world!
i hate everything! hehe. boy, if i'm not a teenage stereotype waiting to
happen.
stereotypes, in general, are bad. they're even worse when they have
to do with me. kind of like when you hear some stupid ass black comedian
talk in their trademark white-person-voice. basically, that's what all
black comedians make their living on.. white jokes. that's not a
stereotype, either. it's been proven. here, play at home. watch an
episode of def comedy whatever and see for yourself. i'd be willing to bet
my sweet bippy that each and every comedian will make some sort of stupid
joke about white people, and use the extremely unoriginal white person
voice, which was startedby a very funny black comedian, eddie murphy. his
'bear and rabbit shitting in the woods' joke is quite possibly the funniest
thing i've ever heard in my entire life. i swear i pissed myself when i
heard it for the first time. maybe, just maybe, they would be funny, or at
least remotely funny, if the jokes weren't so damn lame.
"(in white person voice) hi, i'm white! let's go out and beat rodney
king!"
"(in white person voice) hi, i'm white! i hate them niggers!"
"(in white person voice) hi, i'm white! my ass is so small!
hahaha!"
you get the point. what i'm leading up to is, essentially,
everything is a huge stereotype. for example, my school is nothing but a
giant stereotype. the jocks are dumb as mud. the blacks are straight out
of the latest n.w.a album. the preps squeak when they walk. the skaters
walk around carrying their skateboards so you know that they're skaters.
the wiggers.. well.. the wiggers are wiggers. unfortunately, out of
everyone that could possibly be stereotyped, teenagers get the worst rap.
we're protrayed by the press and our elders as depressed, violent,
back-talking, know-it-all, disrespectful little brats. i hate to say it,
but behind every stereotype, is a very good amount of truth. but if you
really think about it, mostly everyone, no matter what their age is, is most
of those. like, what the hell is wrong with the mailmen nowadays? what
kind of pressure are these people under at work that would make them go to
work with a large enough arsenal to take out a small mid-eastern country?
it's not like they're in any hurry or anything.
"bob, could you possibly have this letter deliverEd by next year?"
"that's it, man! (pulls out ak-47 and kills everyone in sight)"
how come ups delivery men don't go nuts? what about my little
paperboy? i'm afraid of the little 12 year old bastard now. i tip him $20
every time he comes collecting so when it's his turn to go on his little
rampage, maybe he'll spare me. i know he's carrying some kind of firearm in
that little basket on the front of his bike. you can never be too careful.
what about the pizza delivery guy? sends a chill down my spine just
thinking about it.
teenagers aren't a violent species. there are just a few assholes
out there who think they're tough guys and feel they have to prove it
everyone. most of the time they're poor urban youths, who basically have
nothing else to live for. that's still no excuse to go out and do some of
the things that i've been hearing about lately. but violent is definitely
not the worst teenage stereotype. it has to be the whole idea that we're
all depressed suicidal morons lead by an even bigger moron, kurt cobain.
since when did i elect him to be my offical spokesman?
"i want to eat your cancer when you turn black."
yeah, man, that's exactly what i was thinking. wow, man, you express
my pain sooo well. fuck that. i don't need some stupid ass as my official
spokesperson. i don't need a spokesperson. spokespeople are for
celebrities who are too damn stupid to speak for themselves. that's why
micheal jackson has so many of them, because he's a fucking idiot. could
you imagine what kind of bind he would get himself into if he spoke for
himself?
"excuse me, mr. jackson, when are you going to release your greatest
hits album?"
"as soon as i get done grabbing some little boys ass. next
question."
it would be a disaster. so, i'm assuming the press thinks we're too
stupid to speak for ourselves, so we have to get some inane singer to do it
for us. no thank you. if i want to make myself look like an idiot, i'll do
it by myself. we as teens don't help this stereotype at all. this is for a
number of reasons.
number one -- suicide. suicide is the number one killer among teens,
and why? what kind of moronic way of solving your "problems" is that? you
don't have problems, dope. people in bosnia, now *they* have problems. my
foot weighs more than 95% of the population in bosnia, and you're bitching
because you've been dumped by your girlfriend? that's pathetic. by the
time you're 30, fat, bald, and married with three kids, you won't even
remember her! it's ridiculous. i've never once done anything even
semi-drastic for a girl, and i never would. i'm still a kid, there's no
need to make a comittment now. i know people who have never even had a
girlfriend, and they've been fine (ok, maybe they spank it a little too
much, but hey, at least they're alive). to me, suicide is very selfish.
the whole point of killing yourself is;
"yeah! they'll be sorry when i'm dead! boy, am i smart."
i, for one, don't feel sorry for any idiot who's stupid enough to
take his own life. you don't leave behind any of the feelings you think
you're leaving behind when you kill yourself, trust me. no guilt. no pity.
no anger. no self-loathing. just a bunch of stupid jokes. mr. cobain, for
example. thanks to him, i have to hear a bunch of stupid new jokes every
day. thanks, i really appreciate it.
"what color were kurt cobain's eyes? blue. one blue this way, one
blue the other way." ha ha. really fuckin' funny. i'm going to have to
hear this for another year or so because you couldn't live with the simple
fact that you were making a shitload of money. hey! if it's that tough to
be rich and famous, why not give your money to me? spanked ass.
number two -- poetry and weird assholes in general. you know that
chick in school who dresses in all black and hangs around the art room all
day? next time you see her, thank her. thank her for being an idiot and
giving us all a bad name. yeah, you know the one with the black fingernails
and doc martens. she's our generations next spokesperson. her and her
fucking "art", if you can even come to call it that. it's not so much the
paintings of dead babies stapled to walls or whatever she's painting, it's
the poetry. it's the trademark of the depressed teenager stereotype. i've
seen good poetry, and i've seen bad poetry. personally, i don't care much
for it, and i could never bring myself to write it, but i must give crEdit
where crEdit is due. i see it happen all the time. they sit it study hall
with their little welcome back, kotter! lunchbox or whatever, and fill up
pages and pages of notebooks with poetry. yeah, looks real hard, too. i
could make a better poem then that.. uh.. right now.
birth
then
pain
then
hurt
then
tears
then
pain
then
hurt
then
death
then
eat
at
joe's
there. what do you think? this is easy.
i am hurt. i feel pain. why must you do this to me? why must you
hurt me like you do? god, i hate paper cuts.
i could do this all day. it's not tough. the worst are the
suicide poems. what the hell are they all about? if that isn't the most
psychotic thing to write about, i don't know what is. masturbating to
pictures of ferrets comes close, but it's not the same.
i load the gun. i cry. i cock the hammer. i cry. i point the cold
steel barrel to my head. i cry. i pull the trigger. shit, i missed. boy
will my mom be pissed when she sees what i did to the wall. i cry.
this has to stop. not only does it make us, as teenagers in general,
look bad, but it makes you look like a total fucking moron. wash the black
dye out of your hair, go out and buy some normal clothes, shut the hell up,
and take a good look at yourself and everything around you. see how good
you really have it. yeah, spit out the 50 or so advil you have stuffed in
your mouth and think about it a little bit before you take the easy way out
and contribute to the negative stereotype we're already burdened with.
maybe your doc's are laced a little to tight there, sparky. no matter how
bad you think you have it, someone has it ten times worse. for every
girlfriend that's dumped you, someone's a lot older and uglier than you has
been dumped 10 times. for every time your parents have yelled at you,
someone across the globe is getting their ass kicked for no good reason.
for every pimple on your face, someone else has 10 on their ass that hurt
like a bitch when they sit down. see where i'm going with this? ever see
"heathers"? remember martha dumptruck? you could be *her*, for crissakes!
get over the whole depressed "i have it soooo bad" act and you'll find that
life is a lot more enjoyable. get out more. have fun. get drunk. piss on
snails and watch them melt. life is a lot more fun when you're not sitting
at home being depressed. try it sometime.
[-----]
:: you're a pathetic loser ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #12 - 1/95 ::
speaking of losers, here are some quotes from people who's loserific
lives _haven't_ been changed by rEd!
"black francis is a lamer."
- wicked illusion
"black francis is asshole of the year! blacklist this lamer!"
- a-ko
"i'd crash his board, but it's ld! he deserves it!"
- agent orange
"jeremy, you forgot your gobots lunchbox! can't go to school without
it!"
- wicked illusion's mom
"time for your spanking, jeremy, you stupid little bastard!"
- wicked illusion's dad
""
- wicked illusion's girlfriend (hands can't talk, stupid)
"i am a lamer."
- black francis
[-----]
you're a pathetic loser and you know it. admiting it is the first
step on the road to recovery, boy! this file is just *proof* that you're a
loser! think about it, won't you? you spend your hours with your fat ass
glued to this seat, eyes focused in on the screen, and you're wittle
itty-bitty arthritis-waitin'-to-happen fingers tappin' away on your extended
101 key ibm keyboard! whee! if you weren't a loser, you'd be out right
about now, most likely getting plasterEd. you know. shitfaced. but
nooooo! maybe drinking isn't your style. maybe you'd be the fearless
leader of yet another circle-jerk, instead focusing your beady little eyes
on a seven year-old copy of hustler you found under your dad's bed. but
that's ok. different strokes for different folks. er, no pun intended.
really.
i know what you're mumbling. i've just insulted myself pretty bad,
eh? i must be king loser if i make stupid text files. well, ok, i'll
admit. you're half right. i'm one of those people with lots of friends,
but no social life. then again, i feel that, if i'm going to go out and do
stupid shit, i may as well sit at home and make these stupid text files. i
will go out twice or three times a week for good measure, but i spend most
of my hours in front of the computer. sometimes, when i _do_ go out, it's
to visit other computer geeks. as sad as it is, it's true. but they're
nice people and i can relate to them. so why not? anyway, to me, computers
are a hidden pleasure almost. none of my friends know about it. i try to
hide it as much as i can. it's very tempting, but when i hear someone shout
out a question about computers, i become edgey, and must refrain from
answering. enough about me, we're here for you, dork.
i'm not going to sit here for the rest of this file and insult you.
while that would most likely be pretty funny, it would be too damn easy.
instead, i'm going to be kind for once and attempt to help out a wee bit.
i'm going to give you some fairly simple suggestions on how to lively up
your social life. most of these are tried, tested, and true methods.
that's most, deary. so, if one backfires, save your whining for someone who
gives a shit.
1) get a car. get a car and soon enough you'll be the talk of the
town! you'll be taxing your loser friends all over the damned place! this
is _bound_ to work, but, it'll cost you an arm and a leg. are you _that_
desperate for friends? if so, this is your ticket to popularity right here.
it's a sure-fire way to get chicks, too. just be careful, some cars can
make you even more of a loser. cars to look out for: (a) cars from
countries that don't even exist anymore. (b) cars with less than four
wheels. (c) cars endorsed by ex-porn stars. (d) cars bought for less than
$250. (e) cars bought solely on how much room they have in the backseat.
2) get lots of tatoos. i have a few myself. now, either everyone
will flock to you like you're the messiah and gawk at you in sheer amazement
for days upon end, or they'll be scarEd of you, which is also a good thing.
try to steer away from the gaudy, or corny, tatoos. stuff like a heart with
"mom" written in it just doesn't cut it, man. i personally like tribal art,
but, if that just doesn't float your boat, try something like cartoon
characters. another one to stay away from is anything naked. naked women
adorning your chest may seem cool for a while, but when you're a loser, and
not getting any in the first place, why bother? it also looks real stupid
when you get older. naked men aren't very good, either. if i even have to
explain why, you should just kill yourself now and get it over with. stop
breathing my valueable air and get it over with, pink boy. and, hey, if the
tatoos don't work, get a lot more and join a freak show. zany hi-jinx
ensue!
3) start a shitty t-file group! the chicks will be on you like white
on rice, baby!
4) kill someone. yeah, seems a little harsh, but, if all else fails
you have nothing to lose. you'll become a strange, mysterious, dark, scary
wonder and everyone will want to be your friend just so they know a rebel
such as yourself. now, if you want to take it one step further, try mass
murder! hell, even when you're in jail you'll be popular. charlie manson
gets tons of fan mail.
5) kill yourself. kurt cobain is alive - he's a loser. kurt cobain
is dead - he sells millions of records. nuff said.
6) become "alternative". buy a skateboard and carry it around with
you at school so that everyone knows just how damn alternative you are!
wear lots of plaid flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and nirvana t-shirts.
everyone will want to be friends with the "alternative" guy! listen to
bands nobody has ever heard before, even if you don't like them. make up
bands if you have to.
example (1):
someone else - "who's your favorite band?"
you - "the rotten cabbage farmers."
someone else - "wow! can i be your friend?"
7) be stupid. some of you may already be two steps ahead of me here,
so just bear with me. nobody likes smart people. face it. with this one,
you'll have to be careful, though. if you act *too* stupid, they may put
you in special education, and we all know what happens to special ed. kids,
right? yeah, they're the ones who get pantsed in gym. just be moderately
stupid. remember - less is more.
8) shop at the gap. clothes make the man, my friend. all the
popular kids shop there, so why shouldn't you? dress as preppy as you
possibly can. it's sickening, but yet, it works.
9) come to school naked. you'll be a trendsetter.
10) hang out with rEd guys! yowza! they're virtual chick-magnets,
and if you're seen with them, it can lead to nothing but good things! even
the mention of rEd members make chicks wet between the legs!
example (1):
chick - "hey, loser."
you - "black francis is my friend."
chick - "ooooo baby! i want you *now!*"
well there you go. ten suggestions to help you be the big popular
fuck you've always wanted to be. and remember, when you're in bed with the
leader of the cheerleading squad, you owe it all to me. now, go hide the
hustler back under your dads bed, get to the mall, and go hang out or
something. this has been a shareware text file, if you read it, send me
lots of money.
[-----]
:: how to break stuff ::
:: by; intestinal scum-monkey ::
:: originally published in rEd #14 - 1/95 ::
well, it seems that all you rad doodz out there like anarchy, or,
your little version of anarchy. you know. breaking stuff, etc. well, i
recently found out that most of you like to read anarchy text files, so i
decided to join in and jump on the bandwagon. so, in this file, i'm going
to teach you how to break stuff. this is for the beginner anarchist. for
you more advanced kids, i suggest, "how to smash stuff". let's get
started.
i started breaking stuff when i was about two. i broke lots of
stuff. so, if i can break stuff at age two, i'm sure you can do it now.
am i right?
you can benefit from breaking stuff in a few ways. number one,
breaking stuff is fun. a lot of fun. number two, breaking stuff is an easy
way to get your point across. example - "hey! give me money or i'll break
some of your stuff!" or "you don't believe me? fine! i'll break some of
your stuff then." another way you can benefit from breaking stuff, is, you
can show the world what a cool anarchist you are! you can hold people
hostage and threaten to break large amounts of stuff if the government
doesn't fulfill your wishes!
think of it - a nice island home, a fast car, women, etc. all given
to you by the government just because you threatened to break stuff! wow!
what a deal!
now, i bet you're saying to yourself, "c'mon man! enough of this
stupid bullshit! tell me how to break stuff!" well, there are a few more
things i should go over before we get to the stuff breaking. first off,
safety! you wouldn't want to hurt yourself while breaking stuff, now would
you? that's what i thought. so, pay close attention, bunghole;
stuff-breaking safety : don't break anything that may harm you, and
if you do, wear special protective stuff. like safety glasses. for
example, stuff that would harm you would be glass and things like that.
don't break other people. this could really piss someone off. let's
say, they're just walking down the street and you walk right up to them and
break their leg. i'm sure they wouldn't like that very much.
don't break yourself. it hurts, and, it makes you look like an
idiot.
that's about it. then again, you are a kewl anarchist, so why should
you worry about getting hurt? that's half the fun, spunky! okok, now i'm
getting to the good stuff, hold your horses. next, you'll have to worry
about how to break stuff and get away with it. you wouldn't wanna break
stuff and then go and get yourself caught, would ya? nah. that's what i
thought. here are some simple suggestions;
wear dark clothes. they can't catch your white ass if they can't see
it. catch my drift?
break stuff, and then blame it on other people. yeeaahh! especially
if the other person is a miscreant to begin with. like, uhm.. hm.. you're
little brother. blame it all on him. little brothers are good for that.
break away, mi amigos!
break stuff somewhere and then leave. brilliant, eh? i'm a bloomin'
genius, i tell you! like, here's an example. go to someone's house, break
some valueable stuff, and then leave! wow! they'll never snag you! if
they ever accuse you, act shocked for one, and say something along the lines
of;
"no, i didn't break your stuff. i left before stuff was broken."
it's garaunteed to work.
i'm sure since you're a kewl anarchist, you can think up other stuff
to do to get away scott-free. remember, they were just examples!
now, the part you've all been waiting for! how to break stuff!
ya-hoo! you're on your way to becoming a full-fledged anarchist! remember,
the contents of this article are for informational purposes only! i am not
to be held responsible for anything stupid you may try to do. remember :
you should not attempt breaking stuff!
(drum-roll begins here)
intestinal scum-monkey in association with really elite doodz proudly
presents.. a division of stuff-breakers inc... how to break stuff!
(end drum-roll here)
1) the floor. the floor is a great way to break stuff! throw stuff
on the floor and it will (most likely) break! wow. modern technology
dazzles me.
downfall : it makes a mess. broken stuff usually does, though, so
get used to it.
2) the wall. this takes a little more effort than the floor. you
have to actually throw the object to break it, where with the floor, you
simply have to drop it.
downfall : marks up your wall, and when it does fall, also makes a
mess. but, if it's not your stuff, or someone elses wall, then you have no
reason to worry! you nasty anarchist, you!
3) your fist. it's a novel idea. break stuff with your fist. this
requires more energy than the above mentioned, unless, of course, you're
throwing something really huge at the wall. here's a small variation on the
idea.. use your feet. this one's a little easier, so you amatuer anarchists
may want to try this one first.
downfall : this one could get very messy, with all the blood,
scrapes, bruises, etc. if you lose enough blood, you may even pass out.
this makes you open to arrest! bad anarchist! bad!
4) this is for all you anarchists who may want to take breaking
stuff to a new level, or, you're just too damn weak to do any of the other
things. heavy machinery. heavy machinery breaks stuff with extreme ease.
try a bulldozer or just even a simple tow truck. if you want to go for the
extreme, use a wrecking ball. they can break lots of stuff. lots of stuff
at once, nonetheless.
downfall : heavy machinery is tough to get. uhm. that's about it,
really. oh yeah, if you don't know how to operate it, that can be a real
damper on your parade, too.
5) large explosives. this is the ultimate. large amounts of stuff
in a very short amount of time. major stuff-breaking abound.
downfall : they're explosives, idiot. figure it out for yourself.
6) your butt-cheeks. butt-cheeks are extremely powerful and
underrated.
downfall : breaking glass stuff with your butt hurts like a bitch.
there you go. now you're a bonafied anarchist rather than a budding
amatuer! take what i told you and run with it. have fun. go nuts. get
sooper-dooper crazy wacky silly! all thanks to me.
just make sure you remember what i told you, this file is for
educational purposes only! you should not go around breaking stuff just for
the hell of it or just because it's a whole lot of fun.
[-----]
:: the really elite experiment ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #17 - 2/95 ::
you know, as if the computer world isn't becoming lame enough, we
have more assholes coast to coast starting e-mags. there must be at least
15,000 of them in the tri-state area alone. i'm got going to go into which
ones are lame and which ones aren't, because, frankly, that would be lame.
instead, i'm going to try a little experiment. this experiment was done
under close supervision to make sure that i did not, in any way, shape, or
form, 'fiddle' with or alter the test results. i do not have a degree
(hell, i didn't even graduate yet), and i do not have official permission to
perform this caliber of experiment, but, i figurEd it was worth the risk.
this topic is too important to be thrown on the back burner while i wait for
written consent to perform this experiment. i figurEd this was the best way
to figure out wether or not anybody could start their own e-mag. i used
monkeys. five monkeys.
i rented the monkeys from the philadelphia zoo for a small price and
brought them to my home. bongo, koko, wiener, chumpie, and stinky were at
first hesitant to go with me. who could blame them? for all they knew, i
could be a monkeyphile. once to my house, i showerEd the monkeys, and
showed them to the guest bedroom. inside the bedroom was a bed and a
computer. that was all that they needed. my hypothesis was that given ten
days, five monkeys could start an e-mag and publish at least one issue.
here is the log as it was scribbled into my notebook:
day one - spent most of the day helping the monkeys with dos. bongo
almost formatted the hard drive. what a lamer. once i showed them the
basics, they had no problems and they were on their way. as a matter of
fact, chumpie found out how to free more conventional memory for me. wow.
day two - the monkeys have decided upon a name for their e-mag. to
me, it seems as if they were going in the wrong direction, and taking up too
much time thinking of the name. these monkeys will >never< finish this
e-mag! i guess not just anyone can write an e-mag.
day three - the monkeys have made a really cool logo and a few nice
ansis for their mag, but have not yet began to write. unbeknownst to me,
koko is a member of acid.
day four - the monkeys have began writing their e-mag. i asked for a
print-out of what they have so far, and this is what they gave to me:
pih3;p 23-913 3rs;lmo930 03197rlisdn.zx j;ojosqjopsqjpiasjli
deew8023479502397509725111== r= qo-asqjo 08038;asfjldfhf/zxc/
it seems that the monkeys are just pounding on the keyboard. i told
them that maybe they should try to find a more definite direction with their
writing. the monkeys agreed with me and decided to start again from scratch.
day five - their time is half over and so far, they've only come up
with a logo and brainstormed a wee bit. i'm hoping that the monkeys can
pull it off so that my point is proven, but the monkeys may make me come off
as a blubbering idiot.
they spent most of their time today brainstorming more. really
putting their noses to the grindstone and trying to come up with a solid
idea on what they could write about. ideas were tossed around. bongo wanted
to write on the mistreatment of animals in menial zoos, while koko wanted to
write an article on lamers. weiner wanted to write a file on how to make a
new and improved ansi bomb. chumpie wanted to write a lyrical compilation.
stinky pooped on the carpet.
day six - the monkeys decided on an idea - but refused to tell me. i
can tell that they're starting to get serious. the monkeys really buckled
down and began to write instead of talking and eating bugs off of each
others backs. however, they soon ran into problems. as much as i wanted
to, i could not intervine. bongo ate the mouse. they soon figurEd their
way around it and soon began to get back to work. the mouse-incident ate
about a few hours of their time, and the monkeys must now work harder than
ever.
day seven - koko and chumpie got into an arguement today over the
intellectual values of their e-mag. after a very heated debate, chumpie
called koko a lamer and chumpie broke off from the rest of the group to
start his own e-mag.
day eight - the monkeys slept and swang on my curtains all day.
day nine - one day before the end of the experiment. chumpie has
rejoined the group. as far as i could tell, given everything that has
happened so far, they had still made good progress. i'm very anxious to see the
results.
day ten - the big day. the monkeys submitted their first issue of
pAl to me (primatez againzt lamerz). i was impressed. they had each
written an article and released it in a magazine format. a group effort.
bongo had written about "backdoors in vision-x", koko had written about
"ways to get free stuff from zookeepers, wiener had written about "fun on
tire swings", chumpie had written about "h/p/a/v/c and lamers", and stinky
had written about "interesting things to do with encrusted fecal matter."
it was high-quailty material. my experiment was a sucess. indeed, _anyone_
can start an e-mag.
the monkeys soon released their first issue all over. they now have
over 25 distro. sites in the east _alone_. the assigned a whq position, and
hirEd a few couriers to take care of delivering the newest releases. koko
is now serving time in a county jail for carding 100 pounds of bananas
(onlee a lamer monkey would get caught!).
stinky now writes for rEd.
[-----]
:: phun at the zoo ::
:: by; stinky ::
:: originally published in rEd #18 - 2/95 ::
hello! wow! i'm so excited! this is my first article that i've
written for rEd. i also write for an e-mag that i helped found, pAl
(primatez againzt lamerz). you may have not heard of us yet, but you will
soon! we have the best damn ansi bombs around! anyway, me writing for rEd
is a milestone for both i, and for rEd, since i am their first writer who is
also a monkey.
anyway, i've decided in the fun spirit of other rEd articles, to go
for one of those "fun-at-soandso" articles that tell you fun ways to pass
the time while out on the town. this one, i don't think anyone has ever
touched before. how to have fun at the zoo. being a monkey, i've spent a
lot of time at the zoo, and i know how boring it can be. trust me! here
are some fun ways, a k00l anarkuzt like you can pass the time.
let's face it - the zoo can be a terribly boring place to be.
especially when you're a monkey. now, those damn polar bears, they get to
swim around and shit. what do we get? a fucking tire tied to the roof with
a cheap-ass rope and some hay. then some fuck-head monkey takes the hay and
throws it at me. they know i'm allergic to it! >or<, some asshole monkey
takes the straw, puts it in his mouth like he's a goddamned farmer, and all
the tourists all go, "awwwwww!" at once. god, that's annoying. then.. then
there's the pictures! what the fuck do you people have in those flashes?
flood lights?! assholes! oh. i'm ranting. sorry. it's just not that
much fun at the zoo, if you catch my drift.
keep in mind i'm not responsible for the outcomes of the following
suggestions. if they go awry, it's all your fault!
oh yeah. in case you didn't know, this is fun stuff to do while
you're in captivity at the zoo. not just visiting. sorry for the
confusion!
side note : red boxes do >not< work on the zoo key boxes! repeat ::
rEd boxes do >not< work on the zoo key boxes!
[-----]
[1] gnaw away at the rope holding up the tire swing the the chimpazee
tire swing. eventually, while one of those damn chimps are swingin' away on
the thing, it'll snap!
[2] while there's a particularly large group of people standing
around your cage watching you, stick your finger up your ass, pull it out,
and eat it! the more caked with your own shit it is - the better!
[3] steal the zookeepers keys! this can be a whole lot of phun, so,
i've breaken it down into sub-ideas.
(a) when the zookeeper isn't looking, have all your friends run out
of the cage, then, lock him in!
(b) hide them! just the general look of confusion on their faces can
make you wet yourself. i've done it myself. then again, i am a monkey.
(c) let the bears and lions out to eat the visitors at the zoo!
(d) let out all the snakes and have snake fights! bet money!
(e) steal a wombat and let it loose in the gift shop! fun-eee!
(f) go to where everyone's waiting in line to get on the trolley,
hold the key up into the air, jump up and down and scream;
"hey! i'm a crazy monkey and i have a key! look at me dance! yeah!
i'm a crazy key-holdin' monkey who's dancing around like a crazy monkey!
i'm crazy, and i got a key! look at me dance! cra-zeee!"
[4] spot an unexpecting visitor (preferably someone who's old,
stupid, or just plain ol' out of it) and gouge them in the eye with the key!
tee hee!
[5] one word - feces!
[6] start an e-mag!
[7] radomly punch visitors and blame it on the sloths in the next
cage. they'll believe you, too! hey! dumb fuck-head! sloths are slow as
shit, they can't do it! you goddamned moron!
[8] hack into the salad bar at the food court!
[9] order a dozen pizzas to the laughing hyenas. they won't think
it's so fuckin' funny when they have to pay for 35 anchovy pizzas.
[10] start humping the shit out of the other monkeys in the cage.
make sure there are a lot of people watching, or it just isn't funny.
[11] get out to the pay phones, call the operator, and start making
monkey noises. then, when they say,
"excuse me, sir, are you a monkey?" sound offended and say,
"i am not a monkey!" and hang up. ha ha! fun-eee!
[12] make mentos commercials.
[13] find out what's in spam.
[14] shave yourself completely bald and try to pass yourself off as a
human. when someone asks you if you're a monkey, throw some poop at them
and say, "hey! would a monkey throw his own fecal matter at you? huh!?"
and then walk away. of course they would, but they won't be able to do
anything since they'll have a shitload of monkey dung all over their face.
[15] write for rEd.
[-----]
well, that's it for me! hope you had fun and maybe got some good
ideas! captivity can really get boring, and hopefully, i've given you
enough knowledge to occupy yourself. just remember - this file was for
informational purposes >only<! don't really go flinging your own poo in
someones face! it makes you look bad. later!
- stinky
[-----]
p.s. - here's an article i wrote for pAl that they turned down. you
have to be able to speak monkey to read it. it's on how to make an improved
rEd box!
[-----]
oo ooo o oooo o oooo ooo ooooooo oo o oooooo o oooo oo ooooo o!
ooo oo ee ooo aaaa ooo eee o a eee a oo e a oooo o o e o!
o oo eeeee a ooooo aa eeee!
[-----]
:: a gnu type of box ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in rEd #19 - 2/95 ::
i. history
------------
hello, lamers! ok, well, you see - the hacking/phreaking scene is
literally falling apart at the seams. it's definitely not what it used to
be. there hasn't been a decent >original< hack/phreak file in years! not
to mention, everybody and their mother runs a h/p/a/v/c board. like my mom,
but, she's a lamer anyway. so, while at februarys 2600 meeting, something
occurEd to me. the perfect idea to spice up 'the scene' - a new box!
once again, originality came into play here. what could i do that
hasn't already been done before? there are boxes for virtually anything out
there. so, i put my 'zine idea box' into action.
security. there we go! hacker security. but, what kind of
security? there are already boxes to block tracing, block caller i.d., etc.
so, my 'zine idea box' went into overdrive for this one. then it occurEd to
me. when the feds come knocking on my door, i want it so that they won't be
able to find >any< of my boxes! ha! i'm a fraggin' genius, i tell you!
there was my idea. i passed the idea around to an 'elite few' and
they loved the idea as well. it was then and there that i came up with;
the shoe box!
[-----]
ii. disclaimer
----------------
this file is for informational purposes only! i do not condone any
of this activity whatsoever, and will not be held responsible for the
outcome of attempting to build this box. actually producing and using this
box is against the law, and can get you into a lot of trouble. read on with
caution.
so, if you poke your eye out or anything, don't come crying to me.
[-----]
iii. how to make a shoe box
-----------------------------
materials needed:
-------------------
1 money (around $50)
1 a magic marker (any color)
the only thing you really need for the shoe box is some money.
around $50 would be good. the magic marker is extra. this is how you do
it;
scope out the local mall for a shoe store. here are some shoe stores
on the east coast who have shoe box material in stock :
1) foot locker
2) lady foot locker
3) athletes foot
4) kinny
5) payless shoes
6) tom mcahn (or something like that)
7) buster brown
now, go to one of these stores and begin looking at shoes or
sneakers. if you ask for some shoes right away without looking, they may
get suspicious and call the feds on you! then, pick out a very cheap pair
of shoes. try to find the cheapest pair in the store and buy them. try to
go for a bigger size of shoe. preferably, something over a 10. the
salesperson will bring you the shoes unless they don't have them in that
size. if this occurs, simply find a different pair or get a different size
(getting a different size may make you look suspicious!). once you have the
shoes, you have the option of trying them on if you want to look completely
unsuspicous.
then, buy the shoes! you can throw the shoes or sneakers themselves
away at this point. they are of no use to you. all you need is - the box!
bring the box itself home. open it up. there will be
white/transparent tissue paper inside that will look like this;
/-------------------------------\
| ~ ~ ~ ~ |
|~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ |
| ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ |
| ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ <--- crumples
| ~ ~ ~ ~ |
|~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ | <--- tissue paper
\_______________________________/
take the tissue and throw it away. it is of no use whatsoever. even
less use than the shoes. now, if you decide to use it (this part is not
nessescary to make a successful box), grab a magic marker. any color will
do. take the magic marker, and write on top of the box :
"these are shoes!"
this is to trick feds. it usually isn't nessescary, but if you want
to be extra precautious, this will do the trick. next, take all your other
boxes that you would like to hide from the feds, and stick them inside the
box. this keeps the boxes out of sight, mostly, out of the sight of feds!
now, take the box, and store somewhere such as a closet, or somewhere where
shoes normally go. try to put the side that says "these are shoes!" where
everyone who opens the closet (or wherever you decide to hide the thing) can
see it. this is great fed-protection!
[-----]
iv. schematics
----------------
top view of shoe box :
----------------------
___________________________
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| | <--- lid (opens)
| |
| |
| |
|___________________________|
side view of shoe box :
-----------------------
________________________________
| | <--- lid (opens)
|________________________________|
| |
| these are shoes! | <--- actual box itself
| |
|____________________________|
[-----]
:: holier than thou (how's that for witty?) ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in - pEz #23 5/95 ::
"oh shit. kurt's dead. quick! grab that courtney chick!"
- mtv, 1994, after hearing the news of kurt cobain's suidice.
i am; doll parts. what the hell? either that's extremely genius and
cryptic, or it's just really stupid and pathetic.
i'm opting for stupid and pathetic.
hole's enjoyed an incrEdible, almost overwhelming, amount of success
as of late. having "live through this" voted the best album of the year,
securing a spot as one of the headlining acts on lollapalooza, and topping
the billboard pop charts for a nice chunk of the year, hole has become a
household name. kind of strange for a small band that has basically
forgotten it's roots as a new york based riot grrrl band, and we all know
how unsuccessful riot grrrl bands turn out, now, don't we?
one thing made all of that possible. a small-scale disaster. the
suicide of hole's lead singer, courtney love's, husband; kurt cobain.
follow me, here?
actually, i've heard many things that are supposedly responsible for
hole's fame and fortune. i know, for a fact, that it is only due to kurt's
suicide. let's face it; hole has no talent. none, whatsoever. if they're
the genius band that everyone praises them to be, how come their first
effort, "pretty on the inside", was such a miserable failire? because hole
sucks. it's that simple.
let's look at some of the other reasons hole may be popular, analyse
them, and show just how extremely and terribly wrong they are ::
myth #1 - courtney love is a good singer.
=========================================
oh please! i've heard better screeching come out of a dying cat. we
all know she can't sing. why she even bothers is mind-boggling. her voice
makes me want to claw my own eyeballs out. it's _that_ horrible.
you remember that woman in rhode island or whatever that had a
seizure every time she heard mary hart's (of entertainment tonight) voice?
_that's_ what courtney love's voice does to me. it's vomit-inducing.
myth #2 - courtney love's lyrics are genius
===========================================
i don't think so. let's take a look at some of her "genius" lyrics;
"they get what they want, and they never want it again"
- violet, from; "live through this"
of course they don't want it. they already have it.
"i'm miss world. somebody kill me. give me pills."
- miss world, from; "live through this"
this is completely mind boggling. hey. if you didn't want to win
the miss world competition, maybe you shouldn't have enterEd. eek. i'd
hate to see the swimsuit competition. argh!
someone give her those fucking pills she keeps asking for and maybe,
just maybe, she'll shut up.
myth #3 - hole is a good noise band
===================================
i admit. hole is noisy, but, they're not good. now, it's not that
hard to start a "noise" band and be good at it. hell, it's just a bunch of
noise, but hole can't even do that. that's a true sign of a talentless
group.
nobody in that band is a good musician. they're all revoltingly
medicore. the guitarist. the other guitarist. the bassist. the drummer.
they're all horribly medicore. i've heard better from local bands.
there's nothing left. the music, the lyrics, and the singer are all
shit. they all amount to a pile of shit. so, that only proves that the
reason they're popular, is because a certain someone blasted a hole in their
head and the alternateen crowd latched onto them like a leech, and the world
is a worse place because of it.
now we've got to put up with courtney love's shit. her little
illiterate ramblings on aol, her temper tantrums at concerts, her fights,
her apperances at social events, hobnobbing (is that even a word?) with
actual celebrities.
courtney love is quickly becoming the yoko ono of "alternative"
music, and we're giving her a reason to do it by buying her albums, etc.
let's hope that during her set at lollapalooza,
there's a good band
on the second stage. if not, i don't know if i can entertain myself through
the whole set simply by giving her the finger and yelling obscenities.
speaking of lollapaloza, think of the crowd that hole is going to
draw. alternateens, young and old, flocking to see their queen do her thing
in front of thousands of people who simply want to see a good show.
how depressing.
courtney love, as a person, amounts to a pile of shit. i truely feel
sorry for her daughter, frances bean, who has to live with her and the fact
that her father was a manic depressive who couldn't handle the trials of
stardom.
which reminds me. remember why kurt cobain couldn't handle it
anymore? because of fame and fortune. because nirvana was a household
name. because whatever he did, he couldn't get out of the spotlight. so,
what do we do to honor his life? exploit him, his band, and his name 100x
more than it has ever been exploited.
courtney love is no help. while on a recent trip to philadelphia,
she stopped in zipperhead. zipperhead happened to be carrying a kurt cobain
death certificate t-shirt (which i'm not glamorizing in the slightest).
uh-oh. a recipe for disaster.
courtney goes off on a tangent, knocking over racks of clothing and
cursing out the employees.
it's their job to sell that idiotic shirt, stupid.
this isn't an isolated incident. not by a far stretch of the
imagination. courtney love has gotten into trouble at shows, at home, doing
everyday things, and even at the oscars. it's a hobby of hers.
what kind of self-respecting person would go to the oscars in the
first place, let alone a "fuck the world and everyone on it" type of person
like courtney love? why was she, of all people, at the _oscars_? not only
was she at the oscars, but she attending with another woman, supposedly her
girlfriend.
courtney love - bisexual? there's a big suprise. i knew it was only
a matter of time before she leaped onto that bandwagon. her girlfriend was
a cute one, too. that truely suprises me. courtney love has the good looks
of roadkill. she's pale, has big features, and is just downright trasy
looking. real trailer-park material.
that wouldn't make a difference to me if she was actually talented,
or i actually enjoyed her music, but i don't.
there's no easy way to end this rant. i guess you should let
everyone be what they want, do what they want, and go on with your life,
but there's something about courtney love and her success that drives me
absolutely mad.
jealousy? maybe. who knows? if my philosophy about bad music and
horrible "celebrities" is correct, it'll all blow over soon.
after all, courtney's fifteen minutes are just about up. you can
only make an ass out of yourself for so long.
[-----]
:: the gothic rant ::
:: by; black francis ::
:: originally published in pEz #24 - 6/95 ::
now, _here_ is a real rant - in true t-file fashion.
ahem. let's begin;
you people have pushed me entirely too far with your "gothic"
crap!
"i'm a vampire! blood tastes good! yum yum!"
"i am gothic and original! get hip to my anarchy!"
just shut up because you are not a gothic and you are certainly not
a vampire! you are accomplishing nothing but _pissing me off_! take your
painted black fingernails and shove them up your tight white ass, you
blantantly idiotic evil spawn of an art fag.
you're a vampire? when did you realize this? were you a vampire
_child_ as well, because, i don't think you can "suddenly" become a vampire.
"gee. the sun seems to bother me much more than it ever did."
i'm sure if you were a vampire child, your parents would have sent
your pathetic ass to a mental institution as quickly as possible.
at least claim to be something original. like a werewolf, or
frankenstein or something.
yeah, you're really different. just like everyone else. you also
have a big fucking neon sign right over the top of your head that says,
"look at me! i'm a winner! i want your attention! i will not be ignorEd,
damnit! if this means piercing my whole fucking head to get attention - i
will do so. my rich parents don't love me and pay no attention to me."
stay out of my face! go home and write some more angst poetry you
trent reznor wanna-be piece of shit. bauhaus can bite me, trent reznor can
suck me, and joy division can just flat-out die (oops! too late!).
no, wait. i don't want trent reznor to suck me. after all, he is
bi-sexual now, correct? just like everyone else? he may do just that.
there's a trend you won't be able to forget as easily as
bell-bottoms.
"hey, jim, remember when you were getting guys up the ass?"
"yeah. that was just a phase i was going through."
go away gothic scum! you are the epitome of stupidity and a disgrace
to the human race. wow! i'm a poet and didn't know it. maybe i should
scamper off and write some suicidual angst poetry now. good idea! how
pathetic and asinine. you make me want to spit on you, you retched piece of
shit.
ok. you be gothic, and i'll be ice age. now, that's original! i'll
walk around in a wooly mammoth fur, beating people senseless with my club
and dragging them back to my house for the sake of being different because
i'm a _real_ winner!
"oonga boonga!"
"whoah! look at the caveman! he's a real rebel!"
shut up!
die!
may your rubber pants melt in the hot summer sun and cling to your
legs for enternity, you pety swine!
may you get caught in the rain and have all your black hair dye run
into your eyes causing you to lose your vision so you don't see the fury of
my knuckles as i pummel you.
may all your body piercings rust, you silly walking billboards for
mental insanity! you annoy me! you stoop to the level of cattle and pay
sixty dollars or more to have someone mutilate you by jabbing some metal
rod or whatever through your face or your stomach or your genitals and
calling it hip and fashionable. the only thing that seperates you from
cattle is that cattle get mutilated for free! jealous? i bet you are, you
human oddity!
here's an idea - look up the word "exploitation" in the dictionary.
now get away from me, you worthless slimey little worm.
i feel much better.
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