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[SOSHUTUP] Issue 3
(Released January 19th, 1995) ______________________________
** /\ /\ /\ | | || ~|~ || |~~| |** | \\\\\\\\ |
* \ || \ |_| || | || |__| | * | |~~~~~| |
* \ || \ | | || | || | | * | |@ Oo |
** \/ \/ \/ | | \/ | \/ | o** | | | |
o f k a n r n r | | _\ |
c e r i u b o | | __| ^^^ |
i n m t s i p | \ | ____O O |
e e o y t a r | | >->____--- |
t n s i | | |_ ^^^ |
y y & e e | | _/ |
d t | | | |
y | | ) |
| | | |
|____________________________|
(Yeah okay it probably looks pretty fucked up. We've heard that from a lot of
people but it's not true. It looks perfect on my screen. I've heard about a
virus which screws up certain ascii characters at the beginning of files.
Perhpas you should contact McCaffee so that this evil virus can be stopped and
so that you can see our important title screen properly.)
(Or if you don't buy that, me and Jack put this in here as a puzzle. If you
can make out what it is than mail us at one of the addresses at the end of
this magazine and we'll send you a quart of camel spit in the mail straight
from the dunes of Egypt!! And if you have jpeg you can even smell it.)
Chewing An Eel Sandwich, [SOSHUTUP!] Issue #3
***
***
And
***
***
My Self-Indulgent Introduction, Take 3
by
fifteen
The legacy of [SOSHUTUP!] started a long time back in 1993 on Kumquat BBS.
It started as a dream, a distraught chaotic dream in the mind's of two very
well, weird guys. Actually it was the end of 1993, a cold harsh winter, a
hectic strange distorted time. It was a time when lover's embraced against
the cold, when children courted their parents for all kinds of candy coated
goodies, and a time when fanatics plotted and planned to write revenge against
a world they had no other way of challenging. The beginning was just a few
naughty words, and the two of us double teaming some poor sap about his name
or his unconfessed homosexual longings and all it was in the beginning was a
whole bucket full of derision and condescension and trickery. But soon we
began to feel responsible, not guilty but responsible; two guys with no real
redeeming qualities or skills to speak of but a whole lot of ideas on how they
could upset and disturb complete strangers. So we made a solemn pledge, with
deep and clear resolution we swore to bring upon a bloody final holocaust to
the Calgary Modem Skene.
The ball was rolling downhall, the momentum at a killing speed a blinding
blur aimed at the Skene and we were the ones who built that ball and the ones
who hurled it forth in comtemplation of our dreams. Now we're almost finished,
the blood is really running pretty low and we have a lot to claim for our
credit, even if taking credit is rather immodest.
To see this once fine city in ruins, it makes my heart flutter, it makes my
body sway like palms under the soft caress of a desert breeze. To have
strangled the life out of this place with one of my own hands is some joy I
will never be able to convey. If you were to call up a bbs in this city now
and compare it to the regular state of affairs at the dawn of SSU! then you
would see that much has changed. There is no longer any will whatsoever left
in the minds of Calgary users and System Operators. There is no longer a
sparkle of promise or creativity left in any place anywhere to be found in
this city and the bbses that pollute it. We left tics and vermin back there to
devour the very last remains and now we sit here on a pile of bones sipping
Tang and thinking back to the days of battle and subversion that were the
first two issues of [SOSHUTUP!]. And better yet our sickly strangler's hands
have reached out across the boundaries of the earth and gripped on very
tightly, and the breathing will slow and as our hands are strong and efficient
will the breathing stop.
It wasn't really a conquest we'd designated our unashamed talentlessness
towards. We just wanted to shake the pillars and see the dust and foundation
come down in a slow rain. It was the attention and well also the profane
disgust of the entire outside world we'd banked our lives on and we'd
succeeded up until now. Now there seems to be a part of our efforts in every
piece of scenery and a reminder in every voice, even those distant and without
volume. We've seen to it that there will be nothing left once you scrub away
the ashes, the tire, the anguish of the world. Our network of literary
terrorists have built strongholds in every community and have either spied or
executed blatant sabotage. It's there when you see the world spanned by
expensive mindless rightless computer networks, when you see straights and
squares working away trying to make their Unix skills up to par, when you see
secretaries slavering at the marvel of the computer and the fax machine and
the Internet mailbox. You can see it where there is less talk about the power
of information and it's unique ability to make men wonder and dream and
perhaps even see a universe to grasp for and when you hear the talk and fables
of the pure money making value of that liberating information. And when
privacy is extinct and dead and inspiration is confined only to the borders of
your monitor screen, you'll know who is to be blamed and you'll hate us all
the more knowing you'll be powerless to affect any kind of upward motion
against us. And the pang that will skewer your heart the biggest will be the
inability to remember any even mere or vague sign of a real greatness, for if
there ever was one to begin with than we've rinsed it through in the acid
bath.
So a premonition to come of your bleak future and a promise from those who
so thanklessly brought to it you: we bring forth the 3rd installment of
[SOSHUTUP!]. This issue we will the predecessor to the final effort, a
mysterious but barely improbable 4th issue, so don't open your eyes yet since
we're only about to hit the decline into the valley of demise and it will be
quite a long ride down.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Able Table of Content's that even a moron gets:
a) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (SVGA pictorial that was never published
with the book)
c) Stigmata: The Unseen Plague (Christmas Trees, sprinkling snow, Nuns and
shit)
c) Odie's Meal (story about famine problems on the early American frontier)
f) Jack the Lad's Guide to Good SAT Scores (I think that was the title??)
a) DarkFire in the DarkRealms (game tips for this hot new coin-op video game)
c) The Serpent and the Vase (Trials of an Indian snake charmer in classic
mythological style)
x) Conspiracy File #NUMBER# #ONE#
j) A Scanner Barkley Against A Divine Infestation (What's worse than
Harvestmen? Termites!)
e) Rendezvous with Aja (Story about two historical chinese generals)
t) Bloodbath in the House of the Vampire (starring Bram Stoker, Vincent Price
and Fabian)
r) Archie's 18th (Song lyrics by Andy Williams)
i) The Naked Turkey (If the Smurf's were pitted against a turkey instead of a
cat...)
7) Conspiracy File Number #TWO#
8) Phiker 0ptik Man Pt. 2 (Long awaited!)
a) A special CD ONLY BONUS TRACK. Not included on Vinyl or on Cassette.
y) Quotes, Thanksxz!! and other stuff that is stupider than you!
^ ^
| ^ |
|
Abel's Table on Complexes
**** ****
Author's Note:
The following is a "before" story of the Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy.
Although for some reason my editor did not enjoy it, so I was _FORCED_ to
re-write it and stuff like that. The "after" version can be found at your
local bookstore. Thanks to Jack the Lad and fifteen, they offered me a chance
to show you what the actual manuscript for the HHGTTG. So sit back and enjoy a
short, original version of my book.
HITCHHIKERS GUIDE TO THE GALAXY
By
Douglas the Lad
* * *
Arthur Bent sat on a small rise just over-looking the elementary school.
He drooled at the thought of kidnapping one and fondling him until he bled.
Arthur Bent was a sick man. A very sick man. He knew this too, but he did not
care. His love for little children just filled his mind with the thoughts of
phallic objects. Arthur had tried several times to build up the courage to
take home one of the kids, but he failed everytime. Dismayed, he ventured home
and brewed up some coffee.
There was a knock at the door. Lazily, Arthur Bent sat up from his nice
warm sofa, and answered the door.
"Gord! What a surprise! It is good to see you again!" cried Arthur.
"Arthur," said Gord Prefix and in a dead serious type of tone, "we must
talk. We must talk and drink. It is very important that we talk and drink."
"What Gord? What is the problem?" inquired Arthur.
"Just meet me at the 'Whip and Chain' in 15 minutes. We don't have time
to argue. I am going to tell you the most important thing you have ever heard
in your life." said Gord.
"Alright," said Arthur, "I'll meet you there. But Do me a favour and
don't show up in that little pink frilly skirt like you did the last time we
went to the 'Whip and Chain'. You got me beat up."
"No. No tricks, just show." said Gord.
As quickly as Gord came, he left. Arthur shut the door and thought about
what was said, but could form no images in his tiny puny brain.
Fifteen minutes later, Arthur Bent arrived at the 'Whip and Chain' and
walked in. Gord montioned him from the other end of the bar. Through the
smokey haze of the packed bar, Arthur wiggled his way past a crowd of people
and sat beside Gord.
Gord lit up a smoke and said, "Arthur I have something very, very
important to tell you." Gord waved at the waitress for two pints of lager.
"Gord, what is the problem?" said Arthur who noticed that Gord was
shaking slightly.
The bar became much louder as the D.j announced that Titty Tammy showing
off her wares in five minutes. Crowds of drunken men shouted loudly and
clapped.
Through the roar of the crowd, Arthur heard Gord tell him how since he
was small, that he had always had erotic dreams about men. Finally, Gord
admitted that he was a homosexual.
"Well that explains the pink frilly skirts you like to parade around in."
said Arthur.
"Arthur, please, understand me here. I am not gay by choice, I am gay by
nature." explained Gord.
"Gord, you know how I feel about the gay community."
"Arthur..." started Gord.
"Look you silly little faggot, don't ever talk to me again. You know my
feelings towards... rectum raiders!" said Arthur irritably. Arthur stood up
abruptly and left the bar.
Gord sat in silence not paying any attention to Titty Tammy who was
showing off her silicon implants.
* * *
Arthur's thoughts flew through his mind at light speed. His new found
hatred towards his former friend was unbearable. Arthur was seeing red.
Everywhere he looked, he saw faggots and dikes. I fucking hate faggots he
thought to himself. I can not stand them. Those... those... perverts...!
An hour later Arthur was sitting at home enjoying a nice hot cup of tea
when suddenly the door bell rang. Arthur, still filled with extreme hatred,
slowly drew out his MAC-10 sub-machine gun and approached the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's Gord, Arthur, could we talk for a moment. I am sorry, but we have
been best friends for a long time now... I think that we should sort things
out." said Gord in a glum voice.
"Listen you fucking little queer, the only thing that will be sorted out
is your fucking brains. Got it?" said Arthur in a vicious tone.
"Please..." pleaded Gord.
Suddenly, Arthur conjured up a fabulous idea. He said:
"Oh Gord, I agree, I have been a little aggressive towards you and your
fuc.. homosexuality. Please come in." said Arthur in a sensitive voice.
Gord opened the door and said, "May I sit down?"
"Yes yes Gord, you are always welcome in my house. Just don't leave any
white spots where you sit." said Arthur.
"No don't worry about that Arthur. What's the sub-machine gun for?" asked
Gord."
Arthur ignored this question and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Please, that would be nice."
Arthur went to the kitchen and poured his faggot friend a nice hot cup of
tea and re-entered the living room.
"Here you go Gord, enjoy!" said Arthur.
"Thank you Arthur, thank you very much." said Gord in a rather feminine
tone of voice.
Arthur cringed in horror as he noticed that Gord's voice was changing
into a true flaming homosexuals tone. He shuddered.
"So Gord, what would you like to talk to me about?" said Arthur still
brandishing his MAC-10.
"I just wanted to say that, please don't condemn me for being gay. I can
not help it. I mean I still love you as a friend." said Gord.
Arthur snapped. Once the word 'love' flowed out of Gord's mouth Arthur
saw even a deeper shade of red. He got up and locked the front door and drew
the blinds.
"Arthur what are you doing?" asked Gord.
"Oh nothing, I just thought I heard someone out front. Probably one of
those prowelers again. The bastards."
Gord put his empty cup of tea in the table. "Thank you for the cup of tea
Arthur, it was delectable!"
"Gord, you going to thank me even more for this." said Arthur.
Arthur Bent then unloaded several dozen rounds of pulsating 9 mm bullets
into Gords head, torso, legs, arms, neck, feet, torso and head yelling as he
did this, "Die you fucking Queer! You are an abomination in God's eyes! you
freak!" The house rattled and shook as the machine gun worked its beautiful
magic. The shots stopped and Arthur looked at the heaping flesh that was once
his friend, Gord.
"Bastard! You should all die!" he said to himself. Sirens could be heard
in the distance.
"The cops!" he muttered.
Arthur bolted out of the back door and ran down the lane in his bathrobe
and with a MAC-10. He ran straight into the 'Whip and Chain' exotic dance club
and opened fire on the unsuspecting patrons.
"Die! Die! All of you! You are all faggots! I hate you all! Don't you
understand?" cried Arthur. People started screaming and Titty Tammy tits were
blown clear from her body. Patrons dropped left, right and center. Arthur was
going nuts. He ran out of the pub, and straight into the arm of the law.
"Come here you little homophobe." said a mean looking cop.
"Homophobe huh?! FUCK YOU!" Cried Arthur as he unloaded more rounds of
the MAC-10 into the cop.
A female cop fire a single round into Arthur's leg.
"Die you slimy cunt!" he said as he fell to the ground firing at random
hitting innocent children, dogs, cars, adults and even a female cop or two.
Arthur was bleeding profusely from his left leg (much more painful than
that fucking bruise he got in my first book), "I'll kill you all! No one... NO
FAGGOT will escape the Fag Killer ARTHUR BENT!" Finally, the MAC-10 died as it
spitted out the last of it's rounds.
A rather large black cop put a bullet right into Arthurs forehead,
effectively, killing him.
Authors End Note:
As you can see, this is the much more exciting and action packed version
of the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy. Why my editor did not accept it still
remains a mystery to me. But here is a question for you all: If Arthur Bent
was a bathrobe wearing, sub-machine gun bearing mad man, why did he not kill
the contractors at the start of my novel? Think about it.
Oh by the way, if you want that sci-fi crap, go out and read that novel.
Douglas the Lad - 1995.
**** ****
"Two italian nuns, in the early 30's, saw a world ravaged by war and
pollution. They forsaw red rains, radioactive rains. And the palms began to
bleed christ's blood..." -fifteen
Stigmata: The Unseen Plague.
----------------------------
by
Jack the Lad
Okay, so I couldn't find an entry in my enclyclopedia for 'Stigmata', so
I'll put in the entry for 'Sting Ray':
STING RAY, also called Stingaree, is a ray, or flatish sea fish. Its
long, flexible tail has one or two sharp spines on the back of the tail near
the middle. These spines have teeth along their edges, At the base of these
teeth are poisonous glands. When bathers disturb or step on the sting ray, it
swings its tail upward. In this way, it causes a most painful wound that is
nearly as dangerous as a poisonous snakebite. The fish live on sandy to muddy
bottoms in all warm shallow parts of the ocean and in bays. In South America,
small, freshwater sting rays infest the rivers flowing into the Atlantic
Oceans. These sting rays live as far as 2,000 miles (3,200 kilometres) above
the moouth of the Amazon River. A sting ray that lives in the waters off
Australia reaches a length of 14 feet (4 meters).
SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION.
Sting rays belong to the sting ray family, Dasyatidae. There are about 50
species of sting ray. The commom sting ray is classified as genus Dasyatis,
species D. centrourus. (yeah, like I believe that latin crap!)
-----
I read an artical not too long ago in the America Scientific Journal,
edited by the late Arthur C. Clarke. Just before Arthur C. Clarke's death in
1979, he published an artical regarding what he conceived to be the most
deadly plague of our time. Stigmata. Studies show that in 1981, stigmata had
reached a high of over 12% of the American population as being infected with
the deadly disease. Now it is 1995, and the numbers have only grown since
then. Studies now show that in North America, over %78 of the population have
stigmata.
DEFINITION OF TERMS:
STIGMATA (taken from the Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce):
Stigmata is a condition in which a person will bleed profusely from the
pores on the skin. Most commonly, people infected with the disease, will
bleed from the palms of the hands. Fanatics claim that this is a sign of a
Christ complex. More severe cases include:
- Bleeding from the nose, ears and even the eyes.
- Swelling of the extremities
- Blood vessels in arms bulge out.
- Joints ache
- Dizziness (from blood loss)
- Rock Hudson
STING RAY (taken from my home encyclopedia):
STING RAY, also called Stingaree, is a ray, or flatish sea fish. Its
long, flexible tail has one or two sharp spines on the back of the tail near
the middle. These spines have teeth along their edges, At the base of these
teeth are poisonous glands. When bathers disturb or step on the sting ray, it
swings its tail upward. In this way, it causes a most painful wound that is
nearly as dangerous as a poisonous snakebite. The fish live on sandy to muddy
bottoms in all warm shallow parts of the ocean and in bays. In South America,
small, freshwater sting rays infest the rivers flowing into the Atlantic
Oceans. These sting rays live as far as 2,000 miles (3,200 kilometres) above
the moouth of the Amazon River. A sting ray that lives in the waters off
Australia reaches a length of 14 feet (4 meters).
SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION.
Sting rays belong to the sting ray family, Dasyatidae. There are about 50
species of sting ray. The commom sting ray is classified as genus Dasyatis,
species D. centrourus. (yeah, like I believe that latin crap!)
-----
Stigmata is a growing menace that if not stopped, could claim as much as
%90 of the population (78 + 12). Most people right now, do not know that they
have the disease, but according to Dr. Frank of the Mr. T Experience "That's
the last time I listened to you!".
Dr. Franciszek Piper of the National Study for Imagined Diseases states
that, "I can see in the future that a staggering %95 of North America's
population will be infected with Stigmata. Unfortunately, without a cure, it
will not be stopped. I think that this will leave diseases like AIDS and the
Pneumonic Plague in the dark." But according to Dr. Piper's assistant, Mr.
David Cole, he states that, "I think that Dr. Piper is exaggerating the
figures and I feel that only perhaps, at the most, only %85 will have the
disease." A rather odd incident took place after I left the office of Dr.
Piper, I heard the following arguement take place:
"6 million!"
"4 million!"
"6 million!"
"4 million!"
Strange, because I have no clue as to what they are talking about.
I, of course, have my own speculations as to the cause of Stigmata. Many of
the reported cases, approx. 77 million of them worldwide, first occured
during the Christmas season. Oddly enough most Stigmata patients start with
bleeding from the palms, which may show a link with the crucifixion of the
Lord Almighty Jesus Christ. As we know, and have come to except in this day
and age many diseases and symptoms are psycho-somatic. For the layman, this
means that basically a physical condition is brought on by a psychological
problem. I won't mince words people, what we are talking about in uncontrived
terms is guilt! Research into guilt as an ailment originated in the most
scientific modern form with Sigmund Freud. His earth-breaking discovery was
to show that if a guilt-ridden person would only come to know the source of
his guilt, than his problems would soon vanish. Later however we were to find
that it's really not this simple, guilt can come from many things, and
manifest itself in the most underhanded dirty ways. So I was led into a
seemingly endless research expedition to find perhaps a solid connection with
Freudian guilt theories and perhaps something a little more legitimate like
Christian guilt. I found a very disturbing connection indeed.
The accepted source of Christian guilt is motive, the scriptures suggesting
that thinking impure thoughts is the same or perhaps worse than doing them.
Men are not held accountable, in the lord's eyes, to their actions but
instead to their thoughts as their thoughts are an unconcealed trail to the
man's very heart. This is fitting with modern Freudian theories, as well as
the ideas on psycho-somatic illness. If a man bears enough guilt, and in this
age is it possible to bear none?, than it is likely that this guilt will
contribute to mental and even physical symptoms. A man with an extreme
persecution complex, feeling inadequate in the face of the Lord's sacrifice,
could easily have a sickening disease such as Stigmata take hold of him. It's
not so alarming to think that most of America is at risk to this crippling
epidemic. Briefly I will mention another aspect of Freudian thought as it
could be connected to Christian persecution. Freud theorized that in a
society, a cultured well-educated society where people have all kinds of
literary and artistic leisures to occupy them, that the majority of the
population should be completely healthy. Healthy, as Freud divined it, meant
that people would have a relatively low sex drive and thus a small need to
satisfy aggressive territorial urges. Funny, that in America, the friskiest
most sexually promiscuous and violent nature in the world, that the
population -- the unfearing heathens -- could have such a crippling epidemic
in their homes, all at the cause of some kind of nearly inherent guilt. The
realization is chilling.
In conclusion, I feel that we have a rather serious epidemic taking place.
Stigmata is something that must not be over looked. I urge you to send in
your donations of $1,000 to the National Research for Imagined Diseases:
National Research for Imagined Diseases
2047 34th Ave S.W.
Calgary, AB
T2T 2C4
Canada.
**** ****
"fifteen claims to have recieved inspiration for the following story from
a couple of frat boys who were stuffing his head down a toilet. Personally, I
think it's a load of rubbish." -- Jack the Lad.
ODIE'S MEAL
by
fifteen
"Gee Odie, what's that smell?" said Garfield, noticing that the smell
that permeated from the cellar was not lasagna.
"Bark, bark!" says Odie with a bright intensity somewhere deep behind
those canine eyes.
Garfield the Cat and Odie the Dog were sitting around watching American
Gladiators on a hot summer day thinking about all the things they could do
if they were not inferior life-forms forced into de-evolution by
domestication and years upon years of pampered slavery!! Yeah!! So anyways
the above conversation is happening and Odie(who did a cameo at the
beginning of Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo as the dog with the severed hand in
his mouth) is remembering the putrid smell of a bloodied human husk. As usual
Garfield is hungry but Odie here has a new thunderous grumbling down in his
belly especially considering Garfield has not let Odie eat one of his own
meals in about 17 years. The newer bright intensity which replaces the
dull-glamour behind Odie's eyes is the hunger for human flesh.
"Hey Pookie! It's time to lose your cookie!" hollers Garfield down the
hallway and into the soon-to-be-steamy bedroom. But first Garfield has to
do something to get his complex feline libido worked up so he looks for his
good friend Odie to abuse. Odie is in the kitchen squeaking his behind
along the smooth shiney tiles as Garfield sneaks in. While Odie is slidin'
around like the dirty cur he is, Garfield puts down some very very gritty
sandpaper on the floor and soon enough the accompaniament of squeals of
Odie's part and laughs on Garfield's decorates the shitty kitchen. The
sandpaper is now covered with a goo of fur and skin and blood as Odie has
scraped his bare bottom raw on the sandpaper!!! Garfield is typically
satisfied and Odie feels typically meek and alone in the world, but beneath
the layers of this exchange can still be heard the quakes of Odie's
flesh-hungry tummy.
Garfield seg-wayyed back into his bedroom and began to do a striptease
for Pookie, and Pookie being only an innocent teddy-bear did not raise the
question "Can a naked animal do a striptease?". It's just lucky that a
cartoon cat can't impregnate a cartoon stuffed teddy bear because from the
mid-afternoon to the peak and climax of the evening they did a' plenty of
conceivin' -- har..har..!
Meanwhile, Odie oblivious but rather out of displacement of the
tormentuous emotional recollections of the events in the other room, of
ashamed longings and of Garfield's dissatisfaction at Odie's forced sexual
prowess.. Was it possible that a cartoon dog could feel so defiled and so
humiliated but at the same time have a primal longing for the very events
which left him without the personified self-respects and sensibilities? If
it was not possible, it was still happening -- for the restraints of reality
are feather-weighted in the mind of Jim Davis --, the world famous cartooner.
But now was the time to find flesh and not the time to obsess jealously
over the bedtime activities of Garfield and his new companion. Odie was
stupid, Odie was dogmeat stupid but he could remember so far that the smell
of dead bodies was coming from down there in the basement. In fact, in a
rare streak of brilliance Odie remembered his most recent welts still
swelt and red from the loud thrashing that Jon had given him the other
day when he last tried to enter down into the abysmal cellar. Jon
wasn't home now and Garfield was too busy to ridicule and trick him any
more today so for once although the psychological scabs were fresh the
burden of his life was free from his weak yellow furred shoulders. Odie did
not have to be the perky little stooge today, and maybe if for once his
intuitions proved accurate he could finally feast on the cold dead arms and
legs of humans. Ever since Yojimbo he had needed that taste again fresh on
his tongue and ever since then he had to put up with the constant dog
derrog and fanatical abuse of his basic living situation, finding pleasure
even in Garfield's avid interest of sodomy and discipline.
The goal was easily reached, with his mouth he turned the doorknob just
slightly and the door almost fell open like it were beckoning him to the
sepulchre downstairs. The stairs were not so easy to take but still he
managed after a few bumps and bruises. Downstairs, the perfect expectation
presented itself in it's cyclic glory as Odie's eyes became keen to the
piles of dozens of dead human bodies; girls, boys, seniors, middle-aged
men, women fat and plump and dead. In the few inches of overbite that Odie
had, was an enormous chewing power and on this occasion enough to shave off
limbs cleanly and efficiently and oh the taste of those bones and the
plasma and puss and rigor mortis. Human beings are tender creatures. But
something lurked there beyond Odie's grasp and knowledge, something even
more sinister than this little episode of brutality as conceived by the
mind of Jim Davis.
Look to see:
Ingredients: A spool of thread, thick like yarn. A large sewing needle,
as large as even an industrial nail. A strategic pile of dead dried
embalmed human flesh in a pattern for eye holes and a mouth and some
nostrils for the killer to breath through. The other table may show, when
you are truly imaginative, a chainsaw with braces and straps perfectly
fitted for the pet-owners puny physique.
**** ****
"I've been perusing a lot of juvenile comic books lately. Somehow it's right
at my level. I hadn't expected to find this." -fifteen
Jack the Lad's Guide to Good STD's
by
Jack the Lad
A revolutionary new disease has been created by Dr. Josef Mengeles.
Although all of the current STD's are potentially harmful or even deadly,
Dr. Josef Mengeles decided that it was time for an STD that actually did
some good to the human body.
In the late 1980's Dr. Mengeles devised a new form of crab that could
actually benefit the host that it was inhabiting. The new form of crab,
known as 'Posi-Lice', is a revolutionary method of enchancing your sexual
libido through the little crabs. The crabs stimulate testosterone in the
male body (posi-lice are currently being developed for the female body as
well -ed) resulting in stimulated sexual prowness. Another example of these
wonder little creatures, is say perchance that you have a small penis.
Apply the posi-lice to your manhood and let the pose-lice go to work. What
they do is they burrow deep into your foreskin and eat away at the wall
lining in your penis making the blood caverns bigger, resulting in larger
pockets for the blood to fill in. Your penis will grow larger! Forget about
those penis pumps which are generally unreliable and painful, and often
cause large bruises on your penis, just apply the posi-lice as an
alternative method!
Have you ever gone to the Sperm Bank and have those nasty words thrown
in your face, "I'm sorry, but your sperm count is too low and the sperm
themselves are vastly immature!". I know I have, too many times. The
solution is quite amazing. When you apply the posi-lice to your testicles,
the crabs corkscrew in and immidiately begin sperm production. Not only
will your testicles have a high and mature sperm count, they grow two times
their current size! Have I caught your attention yet? I bet I have! Read
on...
Are you scared of the opposite sex? Perhaps you are, maybe this is
because you were constantly beat up by them or maybe you were just a little
bit wierd when you were younger, well just apply the crabs to your genitals
and your pheromones levels will pick up %150! The females will flock
towards you. You can not avoid them when you use the posi-lice.
Have you ever woke up with messy pubic hair? Well I know I have on
several occasions, and I am sure, you are just as afraid as I am to to take
a comb and attempt to comb your pubic hair. We are all afraid of ripping
out massive quantities of your man wad out! Well fear no more, sprinkle
the posi-lice onto your pubic hair and let the little guys go to work! They
will neatly comb and trim you pubic hair. You will be the talk of the town
with your neatly combed and trimmed pubic hair!
Now I suppose you are wondering where you can obtain the wonderful new
posi-lice? Well do you remember Archie magazines? Well on the back of those
comics there were advertisements for the 'Sea Monkeys', well Posi-Lice have
replaced those ads and now all you have to do is write to this address:
The Sentry Box
2047 34 Ave S.W.
Calgary, Alberta
T2M 0L7
CANADA
Telephone: 242-5511
if busy call: 242-4567
Send in $20 dollars either by Postal Orders or International Money
Orders. The $20 gets you 2 months supply of posi-lice as well as the
salt-shakers to sprinkle the crabs on. All orders that are over $30, you
recieve 4 months supply of the posi-lice, the salt-shakers, as well as a
t-shirt with the logo "I've Got Crabs" in a stylized font!! Send in your
money today and abolish all of your sexual hangups!
**** ****
"After reading several several Isaac Asimov books, fifteen and I brewed
up this little gem." -- Jack the Lad.
DarkFire in the DarkRealms
by
Jack the Lad
and
fifteen
Senndarin sat by the fire, keeping warm, dreamy-eyed under the words of the
Grand Prophetess. The enchanted Tarot deck was strewn out, in a strange
mystical arrangement, to display the fates of Senndarian the Elf. The last
card, the building block for the high cosmic order was an incomprehensible
yet prophetic shape: A white base, a large square with a reflective grey
face, some wiring leading out into a wide flat mechanism. This of course was
a computer, a miracle of technology far beyond yet somehow inferior to this
mundane world of fantasy and heroics. But they were not privy to this
knowledge, to them it represented the great expanse of the uncombed
territories of the unknown. Sendarrin gasped at the card, not knowing what to
make of it, how this undefined non-existant object could mingle with his
fate; afterall he was just an elvish stable boy, skilled only in the grooming
and caring-for of draft animals, and he'd become very bovine in his years of
hard labour here at this ranch. The Grand Prophetess herself was only a
mysterious traveller, a fortune teller by trade, a woman powerful and strong
but only able to tell the stories of others and never able to tell any story
when a variable such as this card had entered into the picture.
"This card, will seal your fate! Seek it out!" said the Profitess.
"But I have never seen such an object! Do they exist in our land?" said
the Elf.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I have heard of such mysterious object beyond the
Portal of SOULS." said the Prophitess.
"The Portal of SOULS?" exclaimed the confused Sennedrian, "but where is
this Portal of SOULS?"
"Twenty feet beyond the edge of the world." said the Puppetess.
"Just floating there? In space? How do I get there?" asked the Elf.
"Oh my Child, there would be no profit if I explained how to reach the
prophecies!" said the Mystic.
"Then I shall find this Portal! I shall travel to the ends of time until I
reach this portal! I will reach my DESTINY!" exclaimed the Elf with new found
courage.
"Be off then child! Achieve your destiny!" said the Mystic.
And with those words spoken, Sannedarian ran off into the sunset looking,
seaching for the Portal of SOULS.
The Prophetess laughed to herself and said, "Another sucker sold!"
The Elf travelled several days throughout the plains called Drekhekapek,
down the Hill of Gobbled Worms, across the Trollseye Bridge and finally he
forded the Lake of Blood. His journey, while long and rough, was without
incident. Somehow Senndarken had become attuned to his natural elvin survival
instincts, after all those generations that his family spent on the ranch, he
still could tap those instincts! He was amazed and inspired. But soon there
would be a spoke in his progress, the cold brunt of civilization would slow
him for sure. He entered into the Elfsmasher Pub, not knowing how to read the
Common Human tongue.
"Hey you long-haired flower smelling pansy, come here and sit on my lap"
said the first human in the pub, gravy dripping from his face, a bold lilt in
his spirited voice.
The crowd in the bar laughed gloriously, and slowly and strategically
encircled the Elf like so many sharks, sharks smelling fresh blood in the
tide.
"Hey guy's perhaps you could help me..." he said cautiosly as he slowly
turned and watched the humans circle him, laughingly. "Uhh, I am looking for
the Portal of SOULS, I was wondering --"
Before he could get the last word out, his pants were down and he was bent
over a table with 50 guys lining up behind him, laughing at the poor little
Elf.
From outside the pub, bystanders could hear the primal screams of
someone--something--in utter agony. No one dared stop and enter the pub to
stop what was going on. Everyone knew who walked by, that the sodomization
of an unsuspecting Elf was taking place.
The night went on, and dawn came. The humans emerged from the Elfsmasher
Pub laughing and walking funny. The last to emerge was the small Elf. Walking
even funnier because he had been through about 60 hulking warriors.
"I must find the Portal of SOULS" he thought to himself, undaunted by his
nightmarish experience. Like a vision from above, a voice in his head spoke
to him:
"Oh sodomized one, proceed north! Past the Hut of Shameless Virility and
there you will find your destination."
Awed by this vision, he followed the words of it precisely. For several
days, he travelled north over the green fields of the Gobbled Worms.
Finally, he came to the Hut of Shameless Virility, cautious, he sneaked passed
it, trying not to make a sound, worried that he might end up being "another
round for the boys". Like a shimmering globe of crystal in the night, the
Portal of SOULS stood a mere 20 feet infront of him. With a second wind, he
ran furiously into the gate and emerged in a world that no one from his world
would ever see.
This command is not valid at this time, press ? for help.
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This command is not valid at this time, press ? for help.
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-0b97093276109427eb09fs yL;KVXN L.KDSANOIIREHGV WE
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This command is not valid at this time, press ? for help.
?
--------------------------QUANTUM BBS MAIN MENU---------------------------
- A - Acnt Display/Edit | - T - Teleconference
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-->G
WELCOME TO THE GAY CONFESSION CONFERENCE, Sanndarian!
=====================================================
Message #1
Date: 10/6/94
From: Darren
To: My Friends in the Gay Community
Subject: An Early Coming Out Experience, I think?
Greetings,
This is the story I had, almost a premonition in my early childhood to the
life I'd later lead. It was at summer camp near Kananaskis Park. My parents
had sent me there so that they could travel to the French Riviera and sip
martini's without me around, I had known this was a plot to alienate me from
the family unit but I was generally pretty powerless against it being only 8.
I was nervous about bunking with other boys and especially nervous about
having to shower in front of them. It was no big deal now that I think about
it, but then it was staggering to me. Actually now if it had been the same
situation like if I were in the military and felt nervous, I'd just tell
everybody that I was a confessed homosexual and it'd be no problem. But being
an 8 year old, with all sorts of confusing ideas about gender roles and
having all these strange feelings about boys that I had no idea how to
rationalize or explain to myself, well you can imagine how it is.
So anyways, everything that day went very well. We hiked several miles,
played on the flying fox, stalked through the forest and I think I even saw a
moose. But after supper, that's when it happened. A bunch of the boys I had
met in the afternoon had this very intelligent idea but it grossed me out at
first although I didn't know the full extent of it until later. We were going
to get one of those zinc pails and go around turning over rocks to find
slugs, we'd find the slugs and drop them in the pail which had about 2 inches
of water at the bottom to keep the slugs alive. We collected about 60 slugs,
it didn't take long because it was rainy up here in the Kananaskis country. I
was wondering what we'd do with the slugs after we collected them, I don't
know maybe something like dump salt on them and watch them die? That's pretty
cruel but what kind of restraints does an 8 year old have? Not many. In fact
very few restraints existed for us as I was to find out when they talked
about what they'd do with the slugs.
Billy, a chubby but very smart kid had brought up some saran wrap. And
Jimmy a skinny cool-kid who smoked! brought a bottle of mazola oil. I
wondered what kind of concoction was brewing, it was not a concoction at all.
They finally let me in, they were going to cover the floor of our bunk room
with saran wrap, lotion it with the mazola oil and then we were going to
strip down naked. Next we'd dump the slugs onto the saran wrap and then we'd
do belly dives and roll around in our expression of boyhood so proudly and
dignified. It sure was a lot of fun. I did some similar things in college and
sometimes I get together with the other Emergency volunteers for similar
activities.
-->
Response 1/1
Date: 10/6/8
From: Mouser
To: Darren
Subject: Re: An Early Coming Out Experience, I think?
Hi Darren,
Yeah, umm, I understand what U went through. I sympathize with you in
every respect becuz a couple of summers ago, I finally saw the actual side of
my hidden sexuality. It was with my friend, someone told me that a good
place to go was the Warehouse Bar, so my friend and I went down there with
the hopes of picking a beautiful girl named, ummm, Terry. Well another user
from this bbs (although he would probably kill me for mentioning his name,
but he goes by the alias spiderkingIII hehehe..) went with me in search of
this much talked about woman. Well, needless to say, there was no woman by
the name of Terry, and needless to say, Jack the Lad was just being a prick
again. But anyways, we walked into the bar, after paying the cover charge
and went hunting for targets hehehehe. So I talked to the waitress for a bit
while spiderkingIII went off to scope out the chickz. She seemed really nice
and told me her shift was over in an hour, so I sat and drank my one beer for
an hour while she worked off her shift. One hour passed and she came up to me
invited me to cum home to her place. Needless to say, I went!! spiderkingIII
was busy being gang raped by 60 well hung elves. They were all chanting
"revenge! revenge!". Terry led me into her bedroom. I was getting really hot,
I just could not control myself, I watched her strip to 'her' bare
essentials, well I could not believe what I saw! Terry turned out to be a
guy! Well I could not be rude to him right? So I spent the night there. And
to tell u the truth I enjoyed every moment of it. So Darren, don't be ashamed
of being a homosexual, there are thousands of us out there!!
-->x
THANK YOU, Sanndarian, For reading the GAY CONFESSION CONFERENCE!
--------------------------QUANTUM BBS MAIN MENU---------------------------
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THE FOLLOWING .GIFS ARE VIEWABLE ONLINE OR DOWNLOADABLE:
A) Tribe1.gif
B) Tribe2.gif
C) Tribe3.gif
D) Tribe_and_Metal1.gif
E) Tribe_and_Metal2.gif
F) Tribe_and_Metal3.gif
G) Juliet1.gif
H) Juliet2.gif
I) Juliet3.gif
J) Nightmare_Hippy_Girl1.gif (wideview program required)
K) Nightmare_Hippy_Girl2.gif (wideview program required)
L) Nightmare_Hippy_Girl3.gif (wideview program required)
M) Richard_Gere1.gif
N) Richard_Gere2.gif
O) Richard_Gere_and_Dalai_Lama.gif
P) Richard_Gere_and_some_mice.gif
Q) Richard_Gere_No_Cindy_Crawford.gif
R) Richard_Gere_And_Lou_Gossett_Jr.gif
-->X
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- B - Message Bases | - P - Page SysOp
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
-->T
Welcome to the Teleconference, Sanndarian!
SpiderkingIII, Xyklon-B, ShadowMage, Max Headroom, ShadowSage, MeadowSage
Black Dragon, White Dragon, Sapphire Dragon, Platnium Dragon, Spitfire, Otto,
Metal, Juliet and Romeo are here with you.
From Metal: Hi Sanndarian!
:Where am I?
<message sent>
From ShadowMage: You are Sanndarian! you are logged onto Quantum BBS!
:Who am I?
<message sent>
From Max Headroom: You are Sanndarian! hehehhe
<From Otto (whispered)>: hey man, what's up?
:I am confused Otto, I don't know where I am! I need help! I just came through
the Portal of SOULS
<message sent>
From Juliet: huh?
:I am looking for a strange object! Could you help me please?
<message sent>
From Xyklon-B: Sure! What kind of object is it? Could you describe it?
:Okay here is the description the Mystic showed me: A white base, a large
square with a reflective grey face, some wiring leading out into a wide
flat mechanism.
<message sent>
From Metal: Well, that sounds like a computer to me!!!
:MY QUEST IS OVER! THANK YOU! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!
<message sent>
:
Time Limit Exceeded. Please Call again Sanndarian!
¼¢³¾WE%
½³¼¢½bFDS
NO CARRIER
AFTERWORD
-----------
As Quantum BBS logged Sanndarian off, it should be known to the reader
that he ceased to exist. He achieved his goal. As soon as he realized that he
was a construct from an online game, he did not exist anymore. The death of
Sanndarian reached the Prophetess through the cosmic spectrum. She was
saddend yet also relieved by his death. She was proud that such a noble young
Elf could make such a journey in time, but yet saddend by the fact that he
had passed on. His death, in the plains of Drekhekapek, will not be
forgotten because they had never been remembered in the first place.
I am Rod Serling and this has been another fantastic voyage through the
Twilight Zone.
<end credits>
<copyrights>
THE END
-------
**** ****
"Have you ever seen those magazines, the Savage Sword of Conan? Here is
sometimes with ten times more nudity!" - fifteen
The Serpent and the Vase
=----------------------=
by
Robert E. Lee
The suns of Rokdaladus pounded down on the green fields of which a man
was walking. The mans name was Gritzgrizwald, a lone working barbarian.
"Rom The Robot! It's hot out here, I hope the sun does not beat me down
before I make it to the city of Karabagoon." He journied on by foot, naked,
and greased down by his sweat. He carried his large broadsword in his left
hand, and a satchel in the other. The city was only 3 more hours away by
foot. He walked on.
His journey went on without incident. He arrived at the cities large,
rusted iron gates where two stalky guards stood on either side welding large,
menacing wooden clubs.
"Halt stranger!" exclaimed the larger of the guards. "What is your
business in the city of Karabagoon?"
Gritzgrizwald wiped the sweat from his forehead and said in a tired
voice, "I was sent to see Princess Dy."
Both of the guards looked at the naked man with question. "No one see's
the Princess without a note of signed authenticity!" proclaimed the guard.
"I have none. This is a meeting of the minds. This was not to be
documented on paper." explained Grizgrizwald.
"Ha! You lie you beast! Be gone from here before we slay you!" said the
Guard.
"I will not leave these gates until I see the Princess." said
Gritzgrizwald.
"Then prepare to die barbarian scum!"
"HALT!" cried a voice from above.
Gritzgrizwald and the both of the guards looked up and saw the Princess
looking down upon them. "Don't harm the barbarian, he was sent to see me.
Open the gates and leave him be." shouted Princess Dy.
The guards muttered to themselves and reluctently opened the gates and
allowed Gritzgrizwald to enter the city of Karabagoon.
"My apologies to you oh mighty one." said the Princess in an apologetic
tone.
"No worries, my Princess." said the barbarian as he got down on his left
knee and took the Princess's hand and gently kissed it.
"Come, come to my private chambers where we can disguss the mission at
hand."
"Indeed." said Gritzgrizwald.
* * *
Princess Dy's private chambers were eloquently designed by the most
talented of architects in the land. The floor was tiled with marble and the
walls were of polished white stone. The roof arched up and at the apex there
was stained glass of blue and green.
"Come, sit down mighty man. Maybe you can fill the empty void which
Charlez has left." said Princess Dy.
"An unfinished task?"
"Sort of."
"What is it then exactly?"
"It's two things really."
"Okay..."
"Uhh, but the FIRST and MOST important task is the one I would like you
to accomplish first."
"And that is...?" said Grizgrizwald losing his patience with the
Princess.
"TO FIND THE LONG LOST VASE OF LOKIMOTOSUKI!" proclaimed the Princess
in a heroic tone.
"Any clue as to where this is?"
"Yeah it's in the temple just down the road there. Now move servant
boy. Hustle hustle!"
"One question." said Grizgritzwald.
"What's that?"
"Enemies. What about enemies? and is it in a locked chamber?" Inquired
Grizgritzwald
"Oh yes, there are enemies. And by the way. That's two questions rat
boy."
"Oh, sorry. I'll be off now." said the barbarian.
* * *
The air was crisp and blew up against Grizgritzwald's naked body with a
gentle touch. The townsfolk looked upon Gizgrixwald with utter disgust.
"How dare that you walk in this town stark naked!" muttered a passing
man.
Grizgrizwald shrugged this comment off. Nothing bothers him when he has
a clear path of accomplishment to uphold.
"You bastard. You walk around here naked. What about our wives? They
will leave us for such a well endowed male stud muffin. You will make
cuckolds of us all you mutated beast." muttered another man. "We should burn
you at the stake for showing off your warez."
Grisgritzwalk frowned upon the man and told him to leave his sight.
He started toward the menacing looking temple that was only a few
hundred yards away.
"Let's get the swinging bastard!" Cried a townsperson.
A lynch mob of about 25 people came running after the barbarian, but he
was too quick. He scurried up a lamp post about 12 feet off the grown. Below
him the crown circled the lamp post and started throwing rocks.
"I AM NOT AN ANIMAL! I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!" Goodgritzwald screamed down at
them, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The crown stopped throwing rocks, and discussed what he had just said,
and without another word, left the poor barbarian alone.
He climbed back down the lamp post and headed towards the temple.
Gripping his broadsword tightly he approached the large gate that blocked the
entrance to the temple. He forced the gate open which revealed a large room
with a vase resting on the floor with the inscription 'I.T.V.I.M.V.'. he
picked it up carefully and walked back to the palace.
* * *
"You have the vase I trust?" asked the Princess.
"Uh, yeah. It was much easier than I thought also. No enemies." said the
barbarian confused.
"Oh yeah, that's because the last adventurer slaughtered them."
"What? I don't understand."
"Here give me the vase and I will explain."
He handed the vase to here. She drank it's contents.
"Ahhh!" she said. "Do you see these ancient runes inscribed on the side
of the vase?"
"Uh, yeah..."
"They stand for 'In This Vase Is My Virginity'. You see, everytime I
drink this, I become re-viriginized. A rather marverlous discovery in my
opinion."
"What? You send adventurers to find this vase, drink it contents, then I
assume you refill it, put it back and do it again and again?" cried
Gritzgoodwald.
"You know it stud boy. Now stuff me with the one-eyed cyclops." said the
Princess.
"What?! I can't do that you insidious whore!"
"OH! I love that talk!"
Suddenly there was a crash and all the windows broke apart and American
Navy S.E.A.L.s burst into the room wielding M-16's. The barbarian readys his
massive broad sword ready for battle. The S.E.A.L.'s opened fire slaughtering
Gritzgrizwald and the newly virginized Princess.
THE END!
**** ****
"This file is true. The names have not been changed to protect the
guilty, the following text will change your current outlook on todays most
prominent scientists." -- Jack the Lad.
CONSPIRACY FILE NUMBER #1
---------------------
By
Jack the Lad
A couple of summers ago, I decided to play around with the telephone
system. Through the magic of Captain Crunch cereal, I managed to obtain some
phreaking codes. It is good that cereal companies are supplying the general
public with phone codes. I wanted to pull something a little more illegal. I
decided to do a re-mob on Stephen K. Hawkings. I got myself into something that
I had not planned on. Here is the first taped recording halfway though the
conversation.
TIME: 18:45MT
PHONE CONVERSATION BETWEEN STEPHEN HAWKINGS AND CARL SAGAN.
STEPHEN HAWKINGS: ... well I had no clue that it went that deep. How can you
besure for sure?
CARL SAGAN: Well, it turns out that it was an advanced SETI project.
Incredible. I just could not believe it when Lucas told me.
HAWKINGS: Are you sure though? I mean, the movie was believeable, but not that
believeable.
SAGAN: Well, I don't know. I have a hunch. I'll find out more and get back to
you.
At first, when I heard this, I had no clue as to what they were talking
about. But I soon learned. I decided to bug Carl Sagans phone aswell.
TIME: 34:54ET
PHONE CONVERSATION BETWEEN CARL SAGAN AND NSA OFFICIAL (garry busst)
SAGAN: So?
NSA OFFICIAL: Well, we looked into the situation a little more, and it turns
out that the movie Star Wars was more than just a movie.
SAGAN: Jesus. So it is confirmed. What now?
NSA OFFICIAL: Well, the next step is do an investigation into the other movies.
If they prove positive, then an arrest will be made.
SAGAN: I am for that, Lucas must be stopped, he is a threat to national
security. What did you exactly find though?
NSA OFFICIAL: The findings were absolutely incredible. Our research found that
<this part is garbled>
So clued into what was going on. But not entirely. So far, the movie Star
Wars was found to be more than just a movie. But what did they mean? The
following conversation proved also to provide more clues
TIME: 16:43MT
PHONE CONVERSATION BETWEEN NSA OFFICIAL AND KERRY THORNLEY
Jack the Lad: Oh baby, tell me more.
Sultry Susan: Oh baby, my hand is down your jeans giving you the most
remarkable hand job ever. Are you stroking it?
Jack the Lad: Man, I'm stroking it like a mad man, I think that I about to come
all over myself.
Sultry Susan: Stroke it faster! Harde@#^* !$#@!$# °©®µ³¹
----------------
Sorry about that, that is the wrong conversation. Uhh, here is the actual one.
NSA OFFICIAL: To put is simply Mr. Thornley, the movie Star Wars actually took
place. We have enough evidence to nail George Lucas as an alien.
THORNLEY: I knew it. I JUST knew IT. What about The Empire Strikes back and
Return of the Jedi?
NSA OFFICIAL: True Stories as well. Simple as that.
THORNLEY: Did you arrest Lucas?
NSA OFFICIAL: The arrest was made yesterday. We had to get him out of the
picture so he could not make the preludes to Star Wars.
At this point, they caught on to my little game, and immiediately my phone
was disconnected. Here is the conclusion I came up with. The Star Wars trilogy
was too real. I mean, did you see strings holding up those ships? I sure as
hell didn't. What about those laser shots? Looked pretty damn real if I do say
so myself. I've played Laser Quest, I know what a laser shot looks like, and
the shots in the trilogy are real. I don't know who Lucas was trying to fool,
but he did not fool me. We must all realize that we can not trust Lucas again.
**** ****
"Fantastic story! I tried to convince fifteen to submit this to the Young
Writers of Today, but he rejected on the grounds of 'Hearsay.'" -- Jack the
Lad.
Phifteen k.(ops) Dick
pits
A Scanner Barkley
Against
A Divine Infestation
The moon swung in orbit, visible from the earth, the only celestial to
grace this night; the moon, pendulum and sattelite to earth was slightly off
kilter by a millimeter or two, just the size of a plump gnat. Underneath,
rather beneath the splendor and grace of the moon was humanity, confined to
it's mundane crippled planet. On a porch somewhere, a porch with green patio
lanterns and a barbeque and the rest of the suburban trappings, on a porch
somewhere sat: Swifty Nick Pacheco, a drug dealer of a particular low repute
and his prospective buyer, and a plump gnat.
"If you mix it with coke, any girl will be begging on her knees for some
action" said Swifty Nick Pacheco, charming as could be which is to say not
very charming at all and he added "but I don't sell coke, so you'll have to
go to somebody else".
The mark, veiny-eyed and desperate says "I don't want to hear about your
sicko schemes to get laid, I just want some heroin".
The mark waves his hand at something he thinks he imagines.
"-- Progeny of filth and squallor! --" the Gnat whines, narrowly avoiding
the airy arc of the mark's fatty hand.
The deal itself was over quickly, it involved some begging and pleading,
and after Nick's ego was content, the heroin switched hands and Nick palmed
enough cash to feed his advisor the Gnat for 17 years or that's to say 20
dollars.
"Do you know that they could have bugged the stool you're sitting on,
Nick?" said the Gnat so matter-of-factly.
"That's not even possible!"
"Oh why not? All it would take is a drill and a thin bit. A hole right in
the top of the leg before nailing it to the base that you're sitting on.
Wood's pretty porous so sound wouldn't be dampened that much, they could even
put a recording mechanism down near the bottom!"
"I guess you're right, I'll have to work out some kind of code with my
customers" said Nick, with a hint of resignation.
"So when do we get to meet your friend?" said Barkley the Gnat.
"He's actually my cousin, when I started out on the corner selling hash, he
got into the whole evangelism thing."
"You really think he'll give us some sponsorship?"
"Yeah."
The Gnat and the drug dealer walked off into the night, deep into the inner
city. Sirens and gunshots wailed ominously through the concrete wasteland.
Later on the two slept on the dingy roach-ridden floor of some decrepit
apartment building. They woke early, woke early to avoid the tenants and a few
inconsiderate calls to the police. When they hit the streets, the bold sun
stung Nick's eyes but Barkley buzz-buzzed around in the shadows. They were to
meet the evangelist at one of the uptown patio restaurants and they were to be
treated. Jimmy Creampuff was sitting down, legs up. The day's most offensive
item was his white leisure suit in a cut so utterly archaic, and the aloha
shirt buttoned up to his hairy stinky belly button. The day's next most
offensive item was the rubbery tuna melt's he'd ordered for himself and cousin
Swifty Nick Pacheco.
"So who'd you wanna introduce me to 'dere Nicky?" said lizard-breath uhh I
mean Jimmy Creampuff.
"This is my friend Barkley, he's a Gnat" said Swifty Nick, seemingly pointing
at the air above an empty chair.
"Whoa-ho, slow down little dogey! I don't see what you're talking about,
dipping into the psychadelics again Nicky??"
"No..no really look, there's a gnat!"
"I see it, SWAT IT! disgusting little creatures!"
"And certainly this earth was meant to be trodden by the diseased feet of
Radio evangelists!" retorted Barkley, finally drawing the slovenly preacher's
full attention.
"Ha! This one has real grit Nicky, what kind of strange phenomenon is he?"
"I am a highly evolved gnat. Perhaps even more evolved than your planet
cannibalizing race. I am the meek, brother, and I've come to inherit my
kingdom" said Barkley, the freon-cool air of confidence.
"No don't get me worked up you little... you little, insect!" muttered
Creampuff, not containing the smarting blow to his pride, trying to roll up the
sleeves to his lounge jacket.
"Don't bother. I am here to propose an alliance, to cushion your pockets with
cash and to procure for you your dreams of grandeur and power, dreams you'll
certainly never achieve doing call-in radio evangelism."
"I'll listen to what you have to say, it better be good. But the only reason
I'm doing it is because.. well because --
"Kinda like a freak show? Jumping acrobatic fleas?"
"I think you have the right idea, but there is no sham here. I am a highly
evolved creature, a mutant... a wildcard that cannot be explained but just is.
Scientists will examine me, the public will question me, scrutiny will come
upon me and it will all fail. They cannot fault me, cannot prove I'm just the
work of a hidden ventriloquist or anything like that. Because I am real."
"He's real Jimmy bud, he's real. I've known him for a long time, we've talked
this all out a hundred times before, it's foolproof on our end but now we need
you" said Swifty Nick, interjecting just once.
"Well I guess we could try, nothing to lose really. But it will strike a lot
of people as being a really stupid idea, a talking Gnat as a figure in biblical
prophecy? That's what we call schlock in our business. 'sides boy, only a
certain type of folk can be sold on the whole thing, I pick my audience with
that in mind" reasoned Creampuff.
"Fine, we play it by your rules. We play it at your pace."
They reached an agreement, but neglected to finish the contaminated looking
sandwiches.
It was a fluke, a pure double rabbit punch of idiot's genius. The Gnat
gimmick caught on faster than presidency, faster than nationalism, faster than
the new syntho-beat sensation. It started out slow, tick-tock slow on a little
known radio station in Northern California and everybody thought it was just a
really strange joke. But the flea's itch grew and soon there were TV interviews
and rallies and parades and thousands of fanatical followers, all trying to
install a Gnat as king of the earth. In years it spread like internal bleeding,
taking footholds in every corner of the nation, in political and social and
economic forums. It spread out, the wings spanned the North America continent.
The wings fluttered with urgency and strength, the wings blocked out the sun
eventually to contain the entire earth.
Twenty five years of upheaval and change passed. The contagion had placed
Swifty Nick and Jimmy Creampuff at the world's lonely peak, sitting on thrones
on top of carpets of cash in rooms of gold and jewels.
Barkley had become a reclusive ruler in his time, hiding behind the world
communications network and rarely showing himself to the public, allowing his
underlings and loyal servants to handle world affairs. One day in his
bite-sized chamber he heard a voice, a voice from nowhere resounding
everywhere, a voice, an ominous echoing booming voice.
"Barkley, you have served us well. You have planted our great race into
another planet, expanded our kingdom to contain yet another sentient world. You
will be rewarded" said the Voice.
"Who are you?"
"We created you. You are our beautiful progeny. You are the miracle of our
technology, of our glorious expansion!"
"I am like you? You are a collective of gnats? A hive?" a confused Barkley
questioned, in the empty room, to the invisible speaker.
"No, not exactly. You are a technological construct, a cunning complex
arrangement of microchips and organic processors. As you would call it,
nano-technology, an artificial intelligence. Gnato-technology..."
"And you created me to conquer the earth? How could you have known it would
work? It was such a long shot, such a silly dream, I have a hard time believing
myself."
"You had help, you were never alone. We imparted you the motives, the ideas,
the intelligence. You did our bidding well enough that now you can hand over
your world to us and we can place you as an agent on some other planet"
contentedly spoke the voice.
"But I've come to love this planet. And what do you mean? None of this was
mine? I can take pride in none of this? I have done what Hitler, Alexander,
Caesar and Ghengis Khan could never do? And so quickly? You're telling me that
it was actually you that accomplished all this, that I must hand the world over
to you like a happy minion?" was what Barkley said, hysterically.
"You need not look at it that way. You will be rewarded. You were ours from
the beginning, your knowledge of yourself does not change this. You were never
your own."
"No, I am my own. I have experiences my own, I have a kingdom my own. And I
will not hand it over to you. You made me, you helped me attain all this but
even as your figurehead it was I that worked to see this through. They human
race is loyal to me, and I am responsible to them. Even if you ascended me to
the throne, the throne is mine and I was see that the earth never becomes part
of your corrupt domain" said Barkley, a slight of victory behind his strong
amplied insect voice.
"If it is your choice to bite the hand--"
"The hand that places a stranglehand on the human race, and the universe it
helps to occupy!"
"that feeds, than we will accomplish our goals overtly".
"What d-d-d-".
The alien usurpers turned off their creation.
The alien usurpers announced to the entire world their intent to enslave.
The alien usurpers bombarded the earth with tactical lasers and took her by
force.
The End
**** ****
"I don't really understand this one. I think it has to do with a growing
sentient cosmic consciousness lording over the universe but I'm not really
that sure." -fifteen
RENDEZVOUS WITH
==== ======= ====
| | | | |
| | | | |
------ | ------
| | | | | |
| | |==| | |
by
Arthur C. Clarke
The spacecraft 'Phallus' drifted harmlessly in space. The Phallus was a
deep space observer spacecraft designed to survey and photograph objects that
were of more interest than just a satallite photopgraph. Phallus drifted off
a new planet that they called Venus Mounds. Major Aja peered through here new
3" Refractor and studied the object in zero gravity. Her uniform clinged
tightly to her body as it were a second skin. There was a knock on her space
door.
"Who is it?" asked Aja not taking her eye from the eyepiece on the
telescope.
"It's Randy West. Can I come in?"
"Sure thing Randy."
The door swung open and Randy West looked in at her. "Wow" he said,
"Those are incredible!"
"What? The new planet?" asked Aja
"No no, I was referring to something different." said Randy
"Oh what could that be?" asked Aja
"Uhh nothing Aja, I gotta go." said Randy and he left her quarters.
Aja paid no attention to his parting words and continued to study the new
planet. The volcanoes on the planets surface reminded her of her own mounds
that she so proudly endowed. There was another knock at the door.
"Who is it?" asked Aja.
"It's Tom Byron."
"Oh! Come in Tom!" said Aja.
Tom opened the door. Aja turned around to greet him, but the force of her
turn cause her left breast to fly free from her uniform gently smacking her in
the cheek. She stuffed it back into her uniform.
"Oh yeah that's hot." said Tom, "Well, gotta go!"
"Okay Tom, nice to see you again!" said Aja.
Aja continued to study the planet. She noted that the ice caps on the
planet reminded her of large breasts that she had. She loved them. Another
knock.
"Who is it?" asked Aja.
"It's Ray Victory."
"Come on in Ray!" said Aja.
Ray Victory opened the door and gazed at her. Aja's uniform split abit
and her breasts floated freely in the zero gravity blocking her view of Ray.
"Oh sorry!" said Aja.
"No prob. Well, gotta go!" said Ray.
Confused, Aja continued to study the planet. Then there was a knock.
"Who is it?" asked Aja.
"It's Ron Jeremy. May I come in for a peek?"
"Sure thing Ron!"
Ron opened the door and noticed that Aja's breasts were wobbling around
in zero gravity infront of her face.
"Well! Gotta go Aja!" said Ron
"It was nice hearing from you Ron!" said Aja.
Suddenly the gravity of the spaceship Phallus came on and Aja's breasts
fell like two hung men.
-- Arthur C. Clarke/1994.
**** ****
"One of the more intense Vampire stories I have read. I am a huge Anne
Rice fan (she also writes Harlequin Romance books in her off time), so
needless to say, I love all her writing." -- Jack the Lad.
Bloodbath in the House of the Vampire
-------------------------------------
by
Anne (cough cough, hack hack) (coming out of the closet) Rice
(no really it's by fifteen, don't be fooled so easily you idiot)
Doctor Von Goosewing was writing in his diary at a time late at night,
when it was raining really hard. He was close to his quarry, very close. He
was hunting the elusive nocturnal creature known as the vampire. After he
finished the entry in his diary, he called Nucleus BBS and began the hunt.
---
Breathing, seething. A vampire sat up on the roof, primed like a steel
trap, ready to strike. He was hungry for blood, he was hungry for souls. He
saw the young lovers walking just off in the clearing, his fangs sprung and
he leaped down to block their way.
"Go away you weirdo creep" said Suzy, young lover number 1.
"Hey listen here you Bauhaus reject, if you don't get the fuck out of my
way I'm gonna stomp your head into the ground!" said Jennifer, young lover
number 2.
"I vant some of your ketchup" said Ravenloft the evil vampire.
The two girls were mesmerized and hypnotized by Ravenloft's darting
eyes.
They surrendered the ketchup and fries. Ravenloft then made a puncture
mark in their necks with the plastic red pitchfork that sometimes you get
with fries.
---
Von Goosewing waited all night for his quarry to call Quantum bbs. "Vat
Vill happen if my wampire doesn't arrive? Vill I have to search more for my
wile wampire wabbit?". At 10am, Ravenloft logged in. He left a message but
Von Goosewing would not read it until later that afternoon when he woke up
and called Quantum BBS again. The message read:
"Hahah. User meet at my mansion!!!! Friday night, 12 Transylvania Street
NW Calgary!!"
Vhen Gooseving did read it, he vas really ready. He packed up all his
equipment to slay members of the undead modem community.
---
The party was rocking. They had all the hits of Bon Jovi, Winger,
Stryper. Ravenloft sat in his corner comtemplating his next vampiral
attack. He needed a lot of blood because last time he had to settle for
ketchup because he didn't wanna get his ass kicked by a girl again. This
time he chose his victim very closely. Across the room, no actually, taking
up the room was a beautiful womanly woman who was kind of giving him a wink
between bites of her big mac. This time there would be some more ketchup,
on her breath, on her lips and definitely on his shirt. This would make the
kill doubly exciting. He waved his hands majestically around in the air and
then the modem girl was starting to undress. He had her in every position
imaginable and when the party ended they were exhausted. Ravenloft now
turned into a big monster and tore out her fatty throat and sucked down the
gore. He sold the body to Erikb for his necrophilia instructional videos.
---
Quantum BBS
In teleconfernce: Screwtape, Van Goosewing, Ravenloft, Kitten, Diabolical
God, Black Dragon, Nightmare Hippie Girl, Xyklon-B, ShadowMage, Max
Headroom, Darren
VAN GOOSEWING: Vhere is that chickie? She's been gone for 10 minutes now.
Did she disappear ov the face of the earth?
RAVENLOFT: No, she just slept over tonight.
SCREWTAPE(whispered to RAVENLOFT): Did you score??? Did you get herpes
again man???
RAVENLOFT(whispered to SCREWTAPE): Score? Yeah, in a BIIIIIIG WAY :) As for
the herpes, well, no, I did not get those again thank god :) but I did get
something else...
SCREWTAPE(whispered to RAVENLOFT): what? tell me!
JACK THE LAD just entered the teleconference.
JACK THE LAD: heyya fruitcakes...
RAVENLOFT(whispered to SCREWTAPE): oh man, I got a pint of blood out of
her. It was truely a glorious experience. Now I know what Kitten meant by
you get total sexual animal rages when you drink the blood!!! :)
SCREWTAPE(whispered to RAVENLOFT): go away you anemic goon!
JACK THE LAD: Hey, Xyklon-B, thats a great name, where did you get it?
XYKLON-B: fuck off Jack, I looked it up in my Websters Dictionary. Gassing
jews is NOT funny.
ShadowMage: Hey now guys, kiss and make up.
Diabolical God: CARL ROETT
Diabolical God is sent to Jail by ShadowMage, who is paranoid about having
his name spread around and his phone number too.
SCREWTAPE: Hey Darren, is Jonny Quest a good japan cartoon? How about
Captain Nemo?
Darren: FUCK OFF! MY NAME IS DERRAN! I WRITE A COMIC BOOK GO AWAY!
Spitfire: I'll summon a demon on your head Jack the Lad!! My friend has the
Shaven Penis virus!!!!!!!!
JACK THE LAD(whispered to Spitfire): Hey man wanna buy some nude pics of
your best friends girl?
Spitfire(whispered to Jack the Lad): Hey sure man! How much? $5 put it in
my locker at Lester B. Queerson High School. I get beat up lots there, you
can't miss me.
Juliet enters the teleconference!
Metal enters the teleconference!
SCREWTAPE(whispered to Metal): Hey, Tribe who is Spitfire's best friends
girl likes you and wants to show you her sensual self baby!!
METAL(whispered to SCREWTAPE): Really? WHen can I go out on a date with
her?
SCREWTAPE(whispered to Tribe): Hey Metal has been hanging outside your
window taking nudie pictures of you in a tree!
Tribe(whispered to SCREWTAPE): Oh no, I better stay up for a few nights and
try to catch him!!!!
JACK THE LAD(whispered to Tribe): I think Metal is sweet on you!
Tribe(whispered to Jack the Lad): He's a sicko creep!!
VON GOOSEWING: Hmmm, wery interesting. I think that chickie has been nabbed
by wampires!!!!!!
RAVENLOFT: That's VAMPYRES YOU LOSER!
SCREWTAPE: Hey I've seen Love at First Bite, I know about you people.
JACK THE LAD sings "Well they turn with fear when they see me big spear,
come busting out of me flies! I suck more ale as they get impaled but they
just can't take it's size!"
JACK THE LAD gets thrown in Jail, because ShadowMage is sensitive about the
size of his penis and won't be made to feel inferior on his own bbs!
MAX HEADROOM: Hey Screwtape, maybe we could give you a conference so you
can perform and say dirty things for the BBS? How would you like that? You
could be Quantum's trained monkey act!!
RAVENLOFT: They've figured out my secret existance as a vampyre! IGOR tie
them up.
IGOR ties up the users of Quantum BBS.
SCREWTAPE: It's not exactly like you're trying to conceal it you moron!
RAVENLOFT CRUSHES SCREWTAPE'S HEAD WITH HIS MENTAL POWERS AND LEAVES BEHIND
ONLY AN EXPIRED HUSK! HAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!!!
ShadowMage: Can't we all get along?? Stop behaving like children this is my
bbs and I can cry if I want to!
JACK THE LAD(whispered to ShadowMage): Hey let me back in I'm sorry! I
won't do it again!
SHADOWMAGE lets JACK THE LAD back in because he is now content that his
penis while being overly average is good enough despite the scabs and grab
marks.
JACK THE LAD sings "Spread your legs and get your knickers down, spread
your legs and don't make a sound. I'm god's gift to women in this fucking
town!"
JACK THE LAD gets thrown back in Jail because ShadowMage does not like
people going around saying he's a virgin and oh and also because he feels
threatened by swear words.
Roman Polanski storms into the room and saves everyone!
The END
**** ****
"Although I am not a big fan of Archie Comics, I found this one to have
some interesting qualities. Besure to look for the comic book version of this
text. And look on the back of it for my Crabs Advertisement." -- Jack the Lad.
Archie's 18th
-------
by
fifteen
"You're keen Archie, that's a real White Slave your dad got you for your 18th
hey?" said Jughead.
"Yeah, he comes with a special crotchless loincloth as well but Dad won't
tell me what that's for until I am 21... hmmm I wonder why that is!"
"Betty and 'ron will have to teach him some dog tricks, 'rarf rarf hahahah!"
said Jughead.
"Oh Jughead, your jokes can take an awful turn sometime!" moaned Archie.
"Arch, I'm sorry, can we kiss and make up?" replied Jughead.
"Hey but we'll have to get Moose over, the gentle giant, he'll show us some
of the squeals he learned joining up for the fraternity!"
"Yeah, that's sure a good idea Jug. Do you think we'll have to teach the
slave to speak?"
"I can speak fine, oh pimply pubescent master" said the White Slave with
acid.
"What passion, I can't wait until I'm 21 but oh I'll have to" said Archie,
in the act of stifling a yawnnnnnnn.
"Bedtime Archie" hollered Archie's Mom.
"Okay, Jug, I'll see you tomorrow at school... bye!", Archie is pushing
Jughead out his window.
"Doh! Ooff", Jughead hits the concrete quite quite hard, hard.
The next day at school...
"Gee he sure has hard bulging thighs Arch, did your dad really get him for
your birthday? Just for stuff around the house?" said Reggie, hinting subtly
at a darker intent behind Archie's gift.
"Huh? What do you mean Reggie?" said Archie, falling snugly into the dupe.
"Do you think he's one of those harem boys? Does he gobble good Arch? Did
your Dad show you how to use him?" said Reggie, a snicker coming out of his
mouth like messy food.
"I don't understand what you're talking about, hey Reggie you better go,
Veronica is coming up the hall!" said Archie.
"Okay seeya around Arch, hey if you get a present from me in the mail...
open it and pull the string okay?"
"'K Reg!"
"Hey Archie, do you like my new sweater?" said Veronica, chest pushing out
suggestively.
"Sure Veronica, it's a very nice color, what is that? Mauve! A wonderful
mauve! Hey Veronica, have you seen my new White Slave? My dad got it for my
18th!" said Archie, excitedly.
"Did your Dad really get you that for your birthday? Wow, he's a super-dad.
Hey do you think I could borrow him for a few days? He could do... uhm, some
work around the house... I need a few things scrubbed, held, fondled, car --"
"I dunno, he was a birthday present" Archie interrupted.
"-- essed, handled, cared for, licked. Oh, well I promise that I'll return
him without any noticable scars and certainly without any new diseases! Hey
he sure has a hairy chest!" said Veronica.
"Okay, okay Veronica. You sure know how to play me! Har! But you'll have to
wait a couple of days!" said Archie.
"Will my loins survive?" near-mumbling is Veronica.
"What's that? Oh, there's Betty!"
"Hisssssssssss" from Betty to Veronica.
"Hisssssssssss" returned.
"Hey Arch, who's this hairy beefy man? Oh let me guess, he's the White Slave
your dad got you for your 18th. Did he really get you a White Slave? What a
swell guy!" said Betty.
"Yeah, he's very thoughtful!" remarked Arch, still uncertain what to do with
his White Slave.
"Oh I have a present for you Archie, but maybe I might share it with you and
your White Slave. It's something you've always wanted Archie, it starts with
a P" said Betty, hinting, but missing.
"Betty, not if I get my hands on them first, my hot groping hands --" said
Veronica.
"A porcupine? A puppy? A platypus? From Australia?" interrupted Archie.
"-- all over his furry masculine bo--"
"Umm I won't tell you no matter how much you guess!"
"Oh Betty you make things so hard!" said Archie, resignatingly.
"--dy, soaked in scented oils" Veronica, finishing her sentence.
"That's the plan Archie, wait and see!" said Betty, coy.
Soon after, Veronica leaves. Betty and Archie enter a private conference:
"Gee Archie, I'd really like to borrow your friend for a night, he'd be a
great guest at my solitaire sleep-over!" said Betty.
"Solitaire sleep-over? I sure like card games!"
"Don't you people ever tire of this perky game of evasion? Just get it over
with" said the White Slave.
"What's he talking about Betty?"
"Oh when it comes time I will show you, first hand and then second!" said
Betty.
"Oh hi Moose! How was football practice?" said Archie.
"Football! Ha, I've given that up for flower arranging, my wrestling coach
says I need to get more in touch with my feminine side, I told him about the
dresses I try on at home but he still wasn't happy!" said Moose.
Moose added: "Hey who's the big hairy guy in the crotchless loin cloth?"
"That's my White Slave!"
"His dad got it for him as a present for his 18th!" added Betty.
"Gee, did your dad really get you that? He'd sure make a good wrestling
partner, hey could I borrow him for a few days?"
Afterschool, Archie is sitting down at his night-table, stumped by a complex
algebra equation.
"I can perform all kinds of tasks, master, including math" said the White
Slave.
"Hmm, I don't think it will do any harm if you give me a hand with just
about 20 of these questions!"
"Yessir, right on it" said the White Slave.
One week later, in the cafeteria:
"Hey when do I get my turn with your Slave Arch?"
"How about me?"
"Yeah you promised!"
A melee of hands raised, the verbal demands got heavy and confused, Archie
went stark white with regret. How could he have forgotten everybody who'd
asked? Forgotten them in light of his own needs? A voice of reason, rather a
voice louder and more authoratative than the others had risen:
"Archie, come to my room, I have some questions about a certain math
assignment" said Mr. Weatherby, "... and bring your White Slave".
"Okay Mr. Weatherby, right on it" Archie said hopefully, hoping to be saved
from the gripes of his common friends.
"It seems that you have scored perfectly on this assignment, Archie. It's
very unusual, as algebra is your weak point. There is no way you could have
gotten this score, I know you got your White Slave to do the assignment for
you. There's also another problem, your friends have gotten very angry with
you and your White Slave. You made them many promises, you said you'd share
your present that your dad really got you for your 18th. I think there is a
lesson here to be learned, an object lesson. Wait here!" said Mr. Weatherby
in one giant storm of lecturing.
"Oh sure thing Mr. Weatherby, a-'huk!"
All of Archie's friends, every single one of them, came into the room and
filled it like angry peasants. Mr. Weatherby than entering, brandishing
something cold metallic and evil in his fingers, a chrome snub-nosed
revolver.
"Now watch and learn Archie, learn to share your gifts with your friends"
said Weatherby, powerful as ever.
"Yeah! Shoot the loin-clothed beast! YEAAAAAAH!" the crowd of friends urged.
BANG! A resounding, a ringing. The shock and horror dropped from their faces
as quickly as the gunshot sound faded from the room. The crowd encircled the
demised White Slave, kicking his husk with dionysian rage, with indignation
and with a strange kind of pride.
"Gee Mr. Weatherby, I'll do my own homework from now on and I'll make sure
to be very liberal with my belongings so that my friends don't feel
betrayed! You're sure a very good teacher".
From this deciding moment, until the edge of forever and the icy peaks of
time, everything was happy in the land of Archie comics. The characters were
always in grade 12, always 18, always innocent and young and idealistic. Even
with the troubles of the real world a mere breath away, they never lost the
twinkle in their eyes.
**** ****
"Nudity? Turkey's? It drew me at first for that but by the end I was
contemplating some very serious ethical questions." -fifteen
THE NAKED TURKEY
-----------
by
Isaac Asimov
Dr. Han Fastolfe stared intently into his electron microscope. My god,
he thought, I have discovered the possible missing link to the human race!
He glared at the twisted codes of a human DNA strand and compared it to
the strand of a commom turkey. He accessed his human interface computer,
PAL, and said, "PAL, compute the possiblity that the turkey is the missing
link to the human race."
PAL buzzed and hummed for a few moments then spoke in a mechanical
tone, "The possibility that the turkey is the missing link to the human
race is %99.98432987."
"My god!" exclaimed Dr. Fastolfe, "are you sure?"
"The chances of me being wrong in any given situation, are only %.01"
replied PAL.
Dr. Han Fastolfe peered into his electron microscope and drooled at
the new findings.
* * *
A thousand miles away, Dr. Gremionis was in the process of recieving a
coded message from the constellation 'Massive Mammalia'.
"Are you getting this HAL?" asked Dr. Gremionis to his personal
interface computer, HAL.
"I am, Dr. Gremionis, although, it will be awhile before I am able to
uncode the whole message."
"That's alright HAL, I am going to go into my study and watch a movie
called 'Wet Encounters' while you decode the message. Just buzz me when you
have the final outcome."
"Understood, Dr. Gremionis." said HAL in a monotonous tone.
HAL computed for hours the method that the senders encoded the message
in. Five hours later, HAL had the answer.
"Dr. Gremionis, the message has been decoded and understood. I think
that you should read it as quick as possible."
Dr. Gremionis did not even bother to reply as he came running in the
room, wearing only a pair boxer shorts with a ravaging hard-on emerging
from his crotch. "What does the message say?" he panted.
"It would be better if I printed it out on my newly installed dot
matrix printer." HAL printed out a small message on a piece of paper for
Dr. Gremionis to read:
FROM THE HIGH COUNCIL OF THE CONSTELLATION OF MASSIVE MAMMALIA
=-----------------------------------------------=
TO:
THE PLANET EARTH.
People of Earth, it has come to our attention that certain prominent
members of your scientific community, have been slaughtering the species
known to you as the TURKEY. As you know by now, the TURKEY is indeed your
missing link, but that does not excuse the senseless slaughter that has
taken place. A distress call was recieved from the Turkey's sixteen days ago.
We have assembled a small fleet of attack ships onto which we plan to visit
your scientific community and settle this matter once and for all. The
slaughter of the Turkey's must be stopped, otherwise, extermination of the
human race is inevitable. Expect us in 1 day.
SENT BY:
Sector Squadron Leader - Elijah Baley.
Dr. Gremionis gaped in horror as he finished reading the genocidal
message that was sent to Earth. Dr. Gremionis desperately reached for his
telephone and dialed Dr. Han Fastolfe.
"Hello? Dr. Fastolfe?" asked Dr. Gremionis in a frightend tone.
"Yes, this is me, what can I do for you Dr. Gremionis?"
"I have just recieved a message via my Internet mailbox which states
that if we do not stop the slaughter of the turkeys, the human race will be
exterminated." cried Dr. Gremionis.
"My lord! that is completely outrageous! I only had to destroy 150,000
samples to get an adequate DNA sample." Dr. Fastolfe paused, the said,
"look, I will get together with the leader of the Turkey's and I will
explain to him the situation and tell him that the slaughter has finally
stopped."
"Sounds like a damn good idea to me." replied Dr. Gremionis.
* * *
The conference room was dimily lit. Dr. Han Fastolfe and the high
Turkey BokBok sat across from each other. The atmosphere in the room was
tense, it was almost like a war was going to break out if the wrong words
were said.
"On behalf of the human race, high Turkey BokBok, we apologize for the
slaughter of your kind, I will tell you now that the mass killings have
stopped."
"Booook Bok!!" Replied high Turkey BokBok.
"We have received a message from the Mammalians, as I am sure you are
completely aware of, stating that if we did not stop the killings, we
ourselves would be destroyed as a race."
"Booooook! Boook!" cried the high Turkey BokBok.
"So, I propose a bargain." Dr. Han Fastolfe stared deeply into
BokBok's eyes, looking, searching for some kind of emotional response. "I
propose that we stop the killings, which we have, that you tell the
Mammalian's that. And we will begin procedures immidiately to intregrate
your kind into our society. Peaceful co-existance."
"Booooooooook!" replied BokBok.
"We have a deal then?" asked Dr. Han Fastolfe.
"Book Boooook!" said high Turkey BokBok.
* * *
The next day, the ships arrived on scheduale. Dr. Gremionis, Dr. Han
Fastolfe and high Turkey BokBok were at the landing strip that the Mammalians
had specified to meet them at. The ships glided through the atmosphere with
the grace of sophisticated technology, a thousand years ahead of mans current
level.
Several hundred ships glazed the Earth's atmosphere, but only one
proceeded with a landing. A large green ships shaped like a large lump of
nothing, landed. A small hatchway opened, and two figures emerged from the
it.
"Greetings, from the planet Phallice." said Captain Raymond Burr
walking down the hatchway onto the grass. Following behind him was his head
security enforcer, Ed Asner.
Ed Asner walked up directly to Dr. Gremionis and stared him in the
eye. Dr. Gremionis could not help but to notice the large erect penis that
Ed Asner had protruding from his uniform.
"Make your move little man." snarled Ed Asner, the glare from his head
temporarily blinding the good Doctor.
Dr. Gremionis started shaking.
"As you already know, we are going to exterminte your race, unless
high Turkey BokBok says otherwise." spoke Raymond Burr.
Captain Raymond Burr turned towards BokBok and spoke, "Booook book bok
bok bok booook!"
High Turkey BokBok replied, "Boooook bok bok boook bok bok!"
Raymond Burr turned towards Dr. Han Fastolfe and said, "The treatment
of BokBok's race has been most disgraceful and cruel. He tells us that over
150,000 turkeys were slaughtered for DNA testing. Although he does inform us
that treatment has been much better since the discontinuation of the DNA
tests. Therefore, we will not go ahead with the mass extermination of the
human race."
Ed Asner grabbed Dr. Gremionis by the collar and screamed, "HAVE YOU
CONSCIENCE? DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT THESE GRACIOUS CREATURES HAVE BEEN
THROUGH?" Ed Asner was red in the face and furious. He bent Dr. Gremionis
over and performed the most graceful roman spear that Raymond Burr or Dr.
Han Fastolfe had ever seen in their lives.
Raymond Burr said to Dr. Han Fastolfe, "So we will kindly depart from
your presence. And no more of this Thanksgiving Turkey slaughter!"
Moans of pain and pleasure emerged from Dr. Gremionis's throat. Dr. Han
Fastolfe and Raymond Burr glanced over at the two and turned away in
disgust.
"Come on Ed, the time has come for us to leave this fair planet and
let them begin with the assimilation process. They have a long journey
ahead of them."
Ed Asner was pumping furiously away at Dr. Gremionis's rectal cavity,
and sweating like a shaven dog in the process. Finally, he withdrew his large
member and said as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead, "There you go Earth
pig, I hope you know now not to cross the Mammalians again."
"No, no, I have learned my lesson, I promise never again to anger you.
Although, if you would like we could continue our little session sometime
in the near future..."
"Come on Ed!" said Raymond Burr in a loud tone, "the time has come to
leave."
* * *
The next few years for the human race were the most difficult. Turkeys
began to take high positions in powerful corporations and businesses. Although
the road to a blended society was rocky, but in the end, it all worked out.
Although the minor drawback for the human race was that Thanksgiving was
just never the same again.
THE END
**** ****
"This text was brought to our attention by someone who wishes to remain
unidentified. This text raises some intriguing questions about todays current
government agencies." -- Jack the Lad
Conspiracy File 2
by
Jack the Lad
and
fifteen
I am an avid reader. Although I detest most sci-fi novels (I am a
Harlequin Romance guy myself), fifteen told me that he had read this "real
cool" novel called 'Glory Season' by David Brin. Reluctantly, I picked up the
700+ page book and forced myself to read it. 2 hours later, I was reading the
"About the Author", and noticed that Mr. David Brin worked for NASA as a
consultant. Curious I thought, as one of my favourite Harlequin Romance
novelists named Fiery Loins, ALSO worked for NASA as a consultant. The next
day I went to the library and used the OPAC system to look up writers who used
to work for NASA. The findings were incredible. 400+ authors including Raymond
Jarrs also worked for NASA as CONSULTANTS. So, what I did was I rented the
novels that were written by ex-NASA consultants. EVERY ONE of those books had a
sci-fi twist to it. So what does this say about those authors and NASA? The
answer is simple. But right now, I don't have any fucking clue. But here is a
guess:
NASA uses these "ex-consultants" (we'll call them ex-cons from now on) to
spread the truth about Aliens, Space Voyages, Romance and other such topics
that NASA studies. I think that it is safe to say that NASA has infiltrated
the writing industry with it's ex-cons and of course they intend to deploy
these agents in all communities to use as a foothold to world domination. The
cunning deviousness of it was of course very familiar since it was the exact
same thing that we've been trying to do. However, we were worried by this
realization as NASA has billions and billions of dollars to pump into this
effort and we have a mere 32 cents.
It staggered us to think of what we could do with a NASA budget but our
fear and disbelief was really topped off when we thought of what NASA could
do using our ideas except with a staff of qualified, educated, more than
semi-literate people on such a scale as to infiltrate the publishing
companies themselves. But could we imagine this ploy in the real world,
attacking the pocketbooks and yes even dreams of the world public? No, we
couldn't but up until recently when we engaged NASA to see who would control
the future of the planet. We'd worked smallscale to avoid the attention of
the military and the various intelligence gathering agencies, as well as
newspapers and other "early warning systems" such as the TV news. It worked
very well. But NASA was to really innovate our tactics and take it so
much higher.
They had figured out something that we could have never forseen: the
masses are stupid, apathetic, and have a short-attention span. The masses
would never realize that if they purchased a sci-fi novel than it would be an
attempt to control their minds. Hey, they simply wanted to read a book and get
a little bit of amusement and smile and laugh and dance. What puppets they
would make, already knowing the motions they were to follow. We were obvious
in our attempts, striking out where least expected but to a small few.
Eventually our message would go out to the entire world population, but we'd
have to take it city by city. NASA, the way they had it worked out, would take
the world at the rate of countries. It was sickening to see your own ideas
outdone by experts. Something had to be done.
We organized and trained a small dedicated tactical group. It took about 3
days but in those 3 days the group learned very much about industrial
espionage and guerrilla sabotage strategy. The plan was basic, simple, easy to
execute once the NASA HQ was infiltrated and once we'd set up various
confusion and distraction measures. The team broke past security, enabling
themselves to enter the "bodily maintenance sector" of the NASA HQ. Each
member positioned themselves at the flusher of one toilet or stand-up urinal
and as we'd co-ordinated our watches we could calculate one very precise
moment where we'd all flush the toilets we'd just stuffed full with tissue and
soap. The plumbing was backed up completely and the place flooded so thorougly
as to drown every employee and sci-fi writer. We had plugged the porcelain
toilet of the NASA conspiracy machine. Now of course none of this was reported
in the media, and that is merely the US government's attempt to cover up the
issue and keep from demoralizing an already distraught American public. But I
assure you, on the repute of [SOSHUTUP!] as a truthful and sincere
journalistic effort that every event detailed in this article actually did
happen.
Now we are left alone with our makings on the world, the world in our
sight. We are unchallenged, unquestioned, thus far undefeated and for this we
thank the Calgary Public Library and their wonderful OPAC computer indexing
system.
(For those who don't know, OPAC is a book retrieval and cataloguing network
setup at branches of the Calgary Public Library. It is the dewey decimal
system automated. It tracks books as they enter and leave the library, tells
you what branch they can be located at and although it's really quite slow
it's a lot better than looking for books on your own.)
**** ****
"An interesting.. uhm, well, yeah.. story." -fifteen
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| | | | | | | | \ | / | | | | |
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/
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|----| /---\ |----| --|-- 2
| | / \ | | |
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| | | | \ |
by
Jack the Lad
Nina Hagen sat in a secluded wood cabin in the beautiful wilderness just
outside of Germany. The cabin had real nice axes above the front door, and it
is just something you would expect to see in a childrens story book. But
anyways, Nina Hagen was sitting in a seductive pose in her nice arm chair in a
garter belt and a push up bra. She was reading Women's Weekly when suddenly
the phone rang. Nina reluctently put the magazine down and answered the phone.
"Hello?" said Nine in an annoyed tone of voice.
"Mom, it Phiber. How are you?"
"Phiber! How are you son?" asked Nina.
"Fine, look, mom, I am in Brazil right now, could you send some
sandwiches over?" asked Phiber.
"Sure thing! I'll just download them through the phoneline." said his
mother. "By the way, how is your cold?"
"Oh that reminds me mom, could you download me some Chicken Soup as well?"
"You betcha!" said Nina. "Look son, I gotta go because the uhh butler is
coming soon. Housework, uhh yeah."
"Sure thing mom, thanks for the food!" said Phiber.
Nina hung up the phone and said, "Okay! I'm ready!"
A little midget came into the room wearing nothing but a cock ring. He
held a whip and a dog collar. The midget put the collar on Nina and demanded
her to walk on all fours and to bark like a dog.
Meanwhile in Brazil, Phiber 0ptik Man sat in his summer house and fetched
his servant boy, Ronnie Biggs, who is wear a very revealing French Maid's
uniform.
"Let's go to the store for a sec, I have to pick up some cigarettes."
said Phiber 0ptik Man.
"Sounds like a plan." said Ronnie Biggs.
The two of them walked down the street towards the local 7-12 for a pack
of smokes. A motorhome drove by and sprayed them both with a large puddle,
although there was no water around where they were walking.
"Christ!" cried out Phiber 0ptik Man. "I just got these clothes cleaned!"
"Actually I don't mind at all" said Ronnie, "Something turns me on when I
have a realy dirty golden shower."
"What?!" said Phiber 0ptik Man.
"Forget about it. Let's just go."
"Perhaps we should make a quick detour to the laudromat. Get my clothes
cleaned."
"Good idea." said Ronnie Biggs.
At the laudromat, Phiber 0ptik Man sat naked while his clothes cleaned.
"Let's go down to the beach," suggested Phiber, "see what's happening."
"Sure. Sounds like a good idea." said Ronnie Biggs.
At the beach, Phiber ran down to a bunch of people and cried, "Hey take a
look at this!" and flaunted his wares infront of the innocent eyes of parents
and their children.
Horrified, they turned away and screamed. Phiber 0ptik Man could of sworn
that this was a nude beach, this being Brazil and all.
"Come on Phiber, I think it's time to split. Someone just called the
cops."
They both ran all the way home, not bothering with the clothes they left
at the laundromat. Phiber 0ptik Man sat in his room worried that the cops
might busst him. Suddenly, the door burst open, there stood Agent C0de
Busster.
"You bastard!" cried C0de Busster.
"No!" cried Phiber.
"Damn!" cried Ronnie.
"Oh my!" cried a man across the street.
"You'll never get me!" cried Ronnie Biggs as he jumped Agent C0de
Busster.
At that point, Phiber 0ptik Man picked up the phone and danced down the
phone lines getting away from Agent C0de Busster for the fourth time.
"You bastard!" said Agent C0de Busster.
"What?" asked Ronnie.
"I was not here for you. I was here for you friend, Phiber 0ptik Man."
"Ah fuck. Well he got away you know."
"Yeah yeah."
TO BE CONTINUED IN [SOSHUTUP!] #4
**** ****
William Shatner once said that, "If it weren't for [SOSHUTUP!], my career
would be nothing." That's a pretty high aclaim for the two writers of
[SOSHUTUP!]. Now, don't get me wrong. The writers here at [SOSHUTUP!] are not
filled with ego. Although I must admit, fifteen and I are damn proud of what
we have created here. Although this piece of trash has destroyed the modem
Skenes in Portland, Los Angeles, Miami and various other European cities, we
do not let it get to our head. When the first issue of [SOSHUTUP!] was
release, Bill Gibson called me up. He told me that he planned to write a new
novel. Of course, I laughed at him, and told him if it weren't for fifteen and
I then Neuromancer, Burning Chrome, Mona Lisa Overdrive and Count Zero would
not have sold a single copy. He begged and pleaded. Finally I gave in. I told
that his new novel should be called 'Virtual Light' and it should be about a
courier. Then _HE_ laughed at me. He took my suggestion after thinking about
several other ideas that were doomed to fail. Now look at Virtual Light, it's a
best seller. Although the contract between Bill Gibson and myself is now void,
he continues to carry the [SOSHUTUP!] banner, which pleases me because he did
not ever mention [SOSHUTUP!] in any of his many television interviews. Too
embarassed? I don't know, nor do I care. I am just glad that he is out of my
life. What a parasite that guy is.
In 1992, just before the shooting of Star Trek 6, I talked with William
Shatner. He told me that he was very thankful for the exposure that
[SOSHUTUP!] gave him, although he told me that "I feel that I can make on my
own from here." Well, if you consider Wrestling a giant career step, then all
the power to him. I think he failed.
Now, Tom Cruise on the otherhand, he listens to what I have to say.
Before the shooting of 'Interview with a Vampire' (a movie about Calgary's
modem skene), he asked if he should sign on to it or not. I told him that it
would be a good idea, although the Calgary Vampire role is unfamiliar to him,
I told him that it would show his diversity as an actor. After filming it, and
watching the money pour in from it, he called me up and thanked me profusely.
All I have to say is, "Tom, no problem."
Cindy Crawford called me up and told me that Bon Jovi invited her to be
in with a video with her. She asked me to give her kissing tips. Now, I'll
tell you readers here that the editors of [SOSHUTUP!] do not get any women
from this magazine. Although a few have called me and asked for my autograph,
I told them to go to hell. Now, I told Cindy, that the most important thing
before kissing a guy uhh girl, is that you have to brush your teeth before you
do so. She listened. She made the video. Now look at all the airplay she is
getting on MTV. Same with Madonna, I told her to make that Sex book and sell
it for a high price. Well, she made money off of you. Sorry, blame [SOSHUTUP!]
for that one.
Again, in 1994, Gene Roddenbery called me up, and told me that his
advisors wanted to make a new Star Trek series called 'Plunger'. I told him
that making a new series was a great idea, but change the name from 'Plunger'
to 'Voyager', well, the results from this are not in yet, but it is destined
to make people watch. It's Star Trek. All you fuckers watch Star Trek.
Of course, we at [SOSHUTUP!] have not made a dime off of other peoples
successes. We are the unsung heros of movies and television. fifteen, I think,
has a few stories of his own:
I thought that a good idea for a movie would be about a lost street kid who
goes around from arcade to arcade checking the coin-return slots for quarters
so that he could buy a decent meal every now and then. I called up Ridley
Scott one night and voiced the idea to him, he seemed very interested. I told
him the perfect name would be "Arcade Runner", he told me that he would see if
he could get a screenplay written up. A few months later I hear that Ridley
Scott is going to make Philip K. Dick's "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"
into a movie and he's gonna call it Bladerunner. I think he ripped me off even
though Philip K. Dick uses the term "Bladerunner" constantly in his novel. I
didn't get any recognition from Ridley Scott at all. It's obvious that his
entire career was based on my latenight ideas.
I was sitting at home watching a nature show and I thought that I'd call up
Harold Pinter and suggest he write a book called The Last Raccoon. It would be
about the expansion of cities and how the cute little raccoon was on the run
and would eventually have to eat up our garbage. He said he liked it, but that
it seemed to be a pretty limp-wristed idea. I can say that I was offended.
Suddenly about 30 years later I see this movie that was based on an unfinished
Pinter novel called the Last Tycoon. It was about a young eccentric producer
and the splendor and glory of the film industry in the 30's. I thought it was
an okay movie but then I realized that it had a very similar title to the book
idea I suggested to him some 30 years prior. That's more than a coincidence.
The worst though was when I was watching the David Letterman show and I saw
a musician sitting on a stool behind a big chromy obstruction, pounding on it
with wooden sticks. It seemed to be an advanced version of a device I had
created 10,000 years ago on a whim. I had this marketing idea, I was going to
make the first telephone. All you had to do was stretch an animal skin over a
deep hollow wooden frame and then fasten it there, you beat it and it made a
loud thumpety-thump. With this you could convey almost any message. I hadn't
thought of a name. On Letterman and later when I was scoping some hot action
pix of Tommy Lee from Motley Crue I found out it was a drum. I could have
collected 10,000 years of royalties if I just thought to bring it to court.
How could they ask for a copy-right when it was invented before there were
even laws? In the end, at the suggestion of the doctors and nursing staff in
my ward, I didn't bother pursuing it.
Reading fifteen's statements, it can only be concluded that [SOSHUTUP!]
has been at the butt-end for many years and no one seems to take notice of all
the hardwork that we do. fifteen and I work 12-17 hour shifts for these people
thinking up brilliant ideas, and we get absolutely nothing in return. One day
I hope that [SOSHUTUP!] goes beyond the modem skene and I hope it destroyes
the movie industry and the writing industry. Only then, will fifteen and I
feel the power and the glory that we really deserve.
THE END
**** ****
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mutual Quotes from fifteen and Jack the Lad:
Bones: "We just wanna talk to somebody about Spock's brain, that's all."
Spacegirl: "Brain and brain! What is brain? It is controller, is it not?"
Bones: "Yes..yes, in a way it is. The human brain controls the individual's
functions."
Kirk: "Bones..Scotty, Spock's brain cont-rols."
Bones: "It's not possible."
Scotty: "Ahhh..."
Kirk: "Great leader, great leader. We come from a far place to learn from your
controller."
Spacegirl: "You lie, you know me -- you have said that. You came to take back
the controller."
Kirk: "He is our friend..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
fifteen would like to thank these products: Quaker's Oatmeal(especially the
peaches n' cream kind with REAL dehydrated peaches!), Edward's Ice Tea(cuz you
make me warm inside, you make my phlegm really thick and brown and you're the
second cheapest to buy in the store), Lloyd's Bakery and his wonderful Libyan
Meat Patties(actually it's caribbean meat patties).
fifteen would like to thank these people: everybody he thanked in #1 and #2
again, 5 times, 1000 times, 700000 times + 5. I could get into repetition or
put forth different reasons but I'm kind of lazy and bovine.
fifteen would also like to anti-thank the people who provide Calgary FREENET,
because he thinks it's stupid to call something FREE when it costs money and
well you have no freedom to do what you please with it anyhow. He also
thinks(even if rarely he thinks) that people should stop supporting the
Internet providers in this city because they are all spineless thieving
loot-piling creepozoids and they get their kicks reading your private mail to
supposedly protect the public from the enactment of laws that are completely
unenforcable(such as penalizing somebody for motive and vague discussion of a
crime like hacking). Yeah some of these guys even have some experience ripping
off insurance companies as well as the users they offer their services to and
in a perfect world they'd be in jail.
Jack the Lad would like to thank the following people: Many many thanks
to Melissa Hall (see you in February!), Derek, Crazy Ted, Zoya (congrats!),
Paige (I've wrote you back, so write soon!), Sharon, I would also like to
thank Steve Wesolek (were is my tape?) and all the other cool skinheads I have
met on Alt.Skinhead, Jerkyboy/StraitUp on IRC for all the great time I had
channel raiding. I would also like to say, that through out these [SOSHUTUP!]
Issues, I have had to thank a white supremist in each on because they have
died. Well this is issue is no exception. Joe Rowan (I know, I spelt his name
wrong), the lead singer of Nordic Thunder died in a shooting after a gig.
Yeah!! Keep up the good work you guys, next issue lets see if I can get Kev
Turner or Paul Burnely on my list. I would also like to anti-thank Jim Hribnak
(hribnak@nucleus.com) for all his system fuck ups, for all my mail I wrote to
him regarding certain political newsgroups, which he would not reply to.
Typical. I would also like to thank the makers of BIG TURK because that
candy bar is just soooo tasty (and one day you can taste my big turk), also,
Synapse because he's just so nifty, his girlfriend Candace because she never
calls to say hi, she only calls incase she needs something, all the people I
beat up on new years, the Red Deer skins, the New York skins, all the people
on Alt.music.hardcore who hate skinheads (I love you guys!), Kevin (bobby
quine) for nothing really, HMV for finally getting some cool Oi! Music,
Griffin for thinking of the name. I would like to also tell "Hey you! Fuck
off!" to these people: Tracy from England, Melissa from Hawaii, that guy from
Australia, and everyone else I wrote from in the Skinhead Times that did not
reply to my mail. I would also like to say FUCK OFF!! to Rock-O-Rama Records
in Germany for not sending me my records. To go on, I'd like to thank Groove
Records in England for being very prompt on sending me 'Stars and Stripes -
Shaved For Battle' within two weeks. You, for reading through this inane
Thanks List because no one I have listed here will ever see this, everyone who
has read [SOSHUTUP!] and actually enjoyed it. Finally, I would like to give a
message to all Oi! and Trad. Skins out there, hey, keep the faith! Oi! Oi!
If you wish to get ahold of more [SOSHUTUP!] then feel free to FTP to
this site: ftp.etext.org /pub/Zines/SOSHUTUP
If you wish to get in touch with the authors of this piece of trash, then
write to Jack the Lad at ridley@nucleus.com or fifteen at
davenaga@foul.cuug.ab.ca
Although, if you really want to be cool, you'd write Jack the Lad (shhh,
fifteen does not know that I wrote this part!)
And if you want to be really elite, then call 1-(403)-295-9127 (it's in
Calgary. Graveyard BBS. This really cool bbs has the first two issue of
[SOSHUTUP!] displayable in a text area. That's why its COOL).
N O T E ! ! ! The previous issues of [SOSHUTUP!] contained phone numbers
and e-mail addresses. Don't write to them because they broke.
End. --$#
