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The Hogs of Entropy 0767
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #767
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "MIXIN' IT UP"
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
888 888 888 888 888 " by GrlFrMars
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 7/28/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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For this article I've chosen a relatively commonplace topic, but one
of great relevance to the lives of many. It's something that everyone
does, has, enjoys. Something that, when given to someone special, can
bring about a deeper level of intimacy. The same thing, when given out too
freely, can cause great confusion and distress, plus it may cost a lot of
money. Of course, I'm talking about mix tapes.
We've all made them for those we love and admire, and for ourselves
for various reasons. I usually make them for my friends so that they might
learn about my musical taste, but I have encountered mix tapes with "a
message;" one of love, hate, lust, etc. It is possible that those who make
tapes with an overall message are incapable of expressing themselves in
their own words, or have unauthentic emotions toward the person for whom
they're making the tape. Yes, I confess, I've used the mix tape as a
Macking device, but we all have. You know how it goes, put on lots of
booty music combined with the occasional sappy love song, and you've got
your Mackin' tape. But I digress.
The inspiration for this text file is my discovery of a veritable
treasure trove of old mix tapes during my move. Characteristic of me,
none of the tapes had a label; I then made it my mission to listen to each
and every one of them. After getting nearly halfway through, I came to a
conclusion concerning myself and my mix-tape-making prowess. Hot damn, do
I suck. I've got about 6 tapes of the same songs in different order, a
few more nonsensical ones (as in the most random horrible music I've
heard), and then some mix tapes people made for me. The ones from other
people were by far better than the ones I'd made. These tapes were
obviously made before I got my car, so that excuse is ruled right out.
Why, by all things godly, would I have made so many tapes of my own music?
I visited my university's department of Deciphering Mix Tapes to
consult a few experts in the field. Who knows, maybe I'd learn something
about myself. I had brought some tapes to them before, they have graduate
students who analyze your tapes for free as part of their doctoral
curriculum. I located my favorite student and emptied out my box of tapes
onto her desk.
"I see these are unlabeled," she said. "Very interesting, they offer
much insight into the personality of the person who made the tapes."
"I made the tapes," I said.
She inched away from me slowly, and an uneasy feeling set in. She
told me to come back later that afternoon for her diagnosis.
Upon my return, I sensed a great deal of frustration in the
atmosphere of the DMT building. There were students and professors milling
around like I'd never seen before. I entered the grad student's office and
found her sitting in the corner with her knees up against her chest. When
she saw me, she bolted up, ran to her desk, grabbed a piece of paper and
handed it to me. It was a formal-looking letter from the head of DMT. I
left the student curled up in the corner and read the letter on my way out.
It went something like this:
[-----]
Dear Miriam,
After much careful consideration, we have reached the most difficult
conclusion to the problem put forth by your collection of mix tapes. We
brought in experts from other universities, and placed many calls to
world-renowned mix-tape-ologists, and they all concluded thus:
You need to get out more.
Find a hobby that does not involve recording the same songs on many
different tapes. Start crocheting, or kayaking, or take up the kazoo.
Just please, don't make mix tapes for no reason. Use the delicate, beautiful
tape-making process for useful purposes, for example; make tapes to listen
to in your car, and make tapes for your friends.
This is the best advice we can offer to preserve your psychological
well-being. Take care, and use those blank tapes wisely!
Warmest personal regards,
The Department of Deciphering Mix Tapes.
P.S. Can I get a copy of your Bjork CD? I'll give you a tape.
[-----]
So I guess this account of my mix-tape escapades has a bit of a
moral, or it's just completely fucking stupid. The possible moral is, as
explained by the DMT letter, use your mix tapes wisely. Another moral
could be get out more. Anyway, thank you for partaking in another
pointless chapter in my life. I can make you the soundtrack if you send me
a tape.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #767 - WRITTEN BY: GRLFRMARS - 7/28/99 ]
