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Devil Shat 1998 04 09
.ili. Devil Shat Twenty Four .ili.
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The End of the World and What I Did Instead ........ by Morbus
Boredom / walking another night into the fog ... by Black Tyde
G. Nih Ton Saves You, Part One ................. by g. nih ton
This is Devil Shat Twenty Four released on 04/09/98. Devil Shat is
published by Disobey and is protected under all copyright laws. All of
the issues are archived at the Disobey website: http://www.disobey.com/
Submissions, email, and news should be sent to morbus@disobey.com. Your
comments are welcome. What do you want us to write about? Send an email
and let us know.
Devil Shat brings people together. Share it today.
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.ili. The End of the World and What I Did Instead .ili.
------------------------------------------------------- by Morbus
Dammit. Why isn't the news ever filled with anything good? The sense of
dread I had when I heard that the asteroid wasn't gonna hit us was what
greeted me in the morning. It wasn't the coffee or the 17k emails from
Disobey groupies, but instead a Wired news report saying that it was
gonna miss us.
Dammit, dammit, son of a bitch. I guess the funny thing is that the
world wants to die, the world wants to go as quick as possible. If it's
not one thing, it's gonna be another fabricated event that we can
happily dance around for a couple of media months. How long has it been
predicted that we were all gonna die in the year 2000? Quite a while
actually... yet strangely, the same thing was believed in the year 999...
I guess that really didn't work out as planned, though.
So, the year 2000 gets a little old. Sure, we had scares of a war (only
a year late, according to Nostradamus), but that was superceded by our
finger wagging president. Then the scientists made a simple calculating
error and said we were all gonna die.
Pretty damn funny to know people who already began to prepare for their
death. The damn rock was 30 years away and I already knew people who
were yelling out that they didn't want to die, and that it was so
unfair. I don't know if I started laughing, I generally don't monitor
emotions very well.
It's these type of people that make me wonder why they haven't committed
suicide yet. Those so afraid of death, so willing to go that their every
living moment is centered around when and how they are going to die.
I won't lie to you. When I heard the asteroid was gonna come and kick
our asses, I felt a little disappointed that I was going to die before I
wanted to. I was upset that everything I worked for was going to be
demolished by a big spacial wrecking ball. I wanted to go out and buy a
Louisville slugger just so I could have a whack at it before it slid
home.
Then I shrugged my shoulders. I live for now, and so should you. Why?
Because you're just gonna tear yourself apart and become one of those
whiny people who sit in a corner and rock back and forth, trying to
generate a force field to keep the world out. If you only concentrate on
what will happen when you go, you will die alone. People will get sick
of the fact that all you do is talk about leaving them. No one wants to
meet someone and be greeted by "Six months, thirteen days, we're all
gonna die. I'm Bill." It's just not kosher.
And now, the asteroid isn't come and kill us all in some replay of the
Dinosaur Clearance Sale. What are all the naysayers going to do now
besides turn to the great two zero zero zero? Which, when you think
about it, is a 50/50 chance, anyways. The second millennium could be in
2000, and it could be in 2001. This isn't some error in date keeping
folks, like some people explain, but rather a chance for us to say "Oh,
[insert uppity bitch laugh here], it must be coming NEXT year, [repeat
aforementioned laugh]!"
It's not like anything will happen naturally anyways. Even if something
did happen, we would never notice it because we will be too caught up in
making what we think should happen true. People cry of massive wars and
riots, and destruction. Well, sure, if everyone is going to get drunk to
herald in their death, it's not that far of a jump to think that they
will create what they expect.
So what if the world does end in 2000 (or 2001)? Let's assume it does
for a second... does it change anything? Not really. We already know
that we're going to die eventually, that's a stark inevitability of
life. Why should it matter that we die in 2 years instead of 40 years?
Most of us are worthless anyways, sludging through life, grabbing porn
off the internet, mindlessly pushing papers, or sitting in school being
taught other people's thoughts instead of being told to think ourselves.
Most people have nothing going for them and rioting and causing a ruckus
isn't gonna win them a medal anytime soon.
Wishing for death... a desire shared by many, heralded by most... Bo
Peep would be proud.
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.ili. Boredom / walking another night into the fog .ili.
-------------------------------------------------------- by Black Tyde
I stare up into the ceiling of my poorly lit room. In a far off
distance, I am listening to the wise commentary on panda bears
copulating in mass media reproduction. I have obligations to fill, dazed
and bored, I stop my learned skill, the making of chainmail, and think
about the computer screen slowly burning in across my room, reminding me
of this weekend. I ran into good ol' Morbus Iff at one of the Little
Vegas's many reincarnations, Cafe Eclipse. I happen to forget the fact
that I told him that I would spend most of my forgotten life pounding
away at the keyboard for no real purpose than to opiate the masses
through a barrage of poorly arranged barrage of bits. Don't get me
wrong, I fully love to submit to a literary cause, however, I'm a lazy
SOB, looking into a soybean future. I should probably admit that most of
this was written while George Carlin's "Back in Town" is playing on my
very own home stereo.
Anyways, Morbus ol' chum was sitting back, after getting out of work,
sitting in the smoke filled chambers of the Eclipse Cafe, and we were
talking about how my corporate-controlled email box won't allow me to
send my works to Devil Shat. And people say that government is the
number one threat to freedom. I figure it is the least I can do for him,
since he has aided me in several of my past digital projects. So, now,
here I am, back in my room, with obligations to fill and time being the
only thing moving in a tangible direction. My walls are papered with
various things relating to music and my personal life, my floor is
cluttered with an odd display of college paperwork, dirty clothes,
computer parts, audio equipment, and, uh, some stuff I really can't
identify. With obligations to fill. Sipping on a 2 liter bottle of
Surge, praying for a snow day, so I can have a break from "High" school.
Its amazing how spiritually possessed people become when it relates to
the material world. Fuck enlightenment, I just want to get some, and, of
course, visions of discordianism are dancing in my head. Leaning
forward, I turn on the radio.
Time lapses. I haven't, surprisingly. I don't even remember what I
missed. I don't think I ever do. But, though the mist of my mind, I keep
arriving at the same thoughts of displaced social situations I currently
find myself in. The jagged edge cuts quite deeply. My fingers are
feeling a little less sore, from the chain mail work. Time to bludgeon
myself with an alternate lethargic activity. School doesn't start for
another 10 hours or so. Damn it all. And on top of it, I'm sitting here,
whining about how no one knows how I feel, and how no one can relate to
the life I lead. How everyone hates me, or thinks I'm socially unfit to
exist in society. Just like every other fucking teenager who has some
clue. With obligations to fill. They can wait another day. I'm not going
anywhere. Or so I'm told. The revolution is on, and its going on inside
my head. I'll show them all, just like everyone else. Fuck those
obligations. All of them. Don't you just love being generic?
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.ili. G. Nih Ton Saves You, Part One .ili.
------------------------------------------ by g. nih ton
Here begins the first installment of the trilogy that will change YOUR
life.
The first step to saving the world would have to be GET RID OF THE MALL
PEOPLE. Who are mall people? For the most part, they are little
teenage punks who only like to wander around in hopes that they'll
finally get the chutzpah to talk to the loser tripping over his feet in
front of you. If they can't do that, then they kill you with the mind
numbing chatter of why Cindy dumped Johnny.
Once upon a time, I saw this great movie. It was the most recent Star
Trek and punks (mall people) today remind me so much of the Borg. How?
THEY ALL SHARE THE SAME MOTHER FUCKING BRAIN!!! It's sad, really. Sex,
music, and money. It's not much different from being a man in his
midlife crisis but it is worse. Mall people make a point of putting it
in your face.
Parental action committees like to blame MTV for images of sex and
violence and the effects they have on children. Utter bullshit. I
blame mall people. I only blame them because the library people are too
busy thinking about higher education. Working people worry about money,
but there's always a goal involved. No matter what the goal is, it's
good to have one because there's always a moral to be learned.
If you take something from this piece, take this: mall people do not
change. They never change. They may not always go to the mall, but
there will always be that same sort of sadass clique of people who
justify suicide. I hate these people. I'm not saying you should. What
the hell am I saying? Hate these people with a passion. Keep your
children away from these types and let them hang out with biker gangs
instead.
At least when you have to go out and find them, you won't have to go
looking for them at a mall.
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