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Devil Shat 1997 08 28
.ili. Devil Shat Eight .ili.
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Your Life is Void .................................. by Morbus
Kill All the Prisoners ............................. by Morbus
Mother Sow and The Piglets ................ by C. Barry Slough
This is Devil Shat Eight released on 08/28/97. 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.
...
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.ili. Your Life is Void .ili.
----------------------------- by Morbus
People are going to get angry when I tell them that your life is void.
You mean nothing. You are merely something to sell. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I
know... "I'm not for sale". Well, your personality isn't... but what
your personality REPRESENTS is. Also on sale? Your life.
Little less than a year ago, you might have read a tiny paragraph (and
an equally small picture) of Japan's Tamagotchi, the "virtual pet" that
gives you the chance to feed and care for it. It sold millions in Japan
and plans had been made to bring them to the US. Well, they came... and
they sold craploads here. And like America is so wont to do, a bunch of
people starting ripping them off.
Sure, in Japan, pirates simply took the chips, packaged 'em in cheaper
plastic and sold them for less (or more). But here, we had to do one
better. We had to go and reinvent the damn things. The first instance
that I remember was walking through a local Bradlee's (looking to see if
they had the KISS action figures, heh) and seeing a display of Tiger
Toys "GigaPets". I kinda laughed, but I grimaced when I saw the
"GigaPets Alien" (which looked like a damn schwa) along with a dinosaur
and something else. What the hell?
The first thing that immediately came to mind was the fact that GigaPets
were a cheap imitation of Tamagotchi's. Tamagotchi's, in turn, were a
cheap imitation of life.
Which gets back to the original point of this article... have our lives
been degraded into a single computer chip with three paths: eat, love,
and change diaper? To me, that is astonishing. Hey kids, don't buy a dog
or cat or that cute ferret in the window. Simply pay $9.99 and you can
have this plastic thing that fits in your pocket (with optional keychain
attachment) and beeps at you every once in a while.
Psst.... if you're good enough, you might even be able to find some of
the hacks...
Hacks? If you've been keeping up on this whole craze, you might have
noticed some websites proclaiming to have found hacks for the "tamas".
Apparently, if you press certain buttons when you "reset" your pet
(kinda like flushing a fish down a toilet and buying a new one, only
easier), you might have a chance of getting three, four, or even five
tamas to play and live with instead of just one. On the other hand,
press a combination when your tama is being born and you'll be able to
tell what sex it is (now THAT'S a novel idea).
If only life had a couple of neat little hacks or "resets", I dare to
say that the world might be a better place. Well, probably not.
And it gets worse. Now there are computer virtual pets roaming the
shareware collections... which seems repetitive. Isn't the computer
already a "digital pet"? We take care of it (optimizing hard drives,
organizing folders), watch it grow (upgrade software, and hardware) and
see it die (throw the mouse against the wall in frustration because of
'404 Not Found'). It gains a unique personality (because of icons,
backgrounds, screensavers), becomes lazy or useful (depending on your
choice of software), and can be as fat and bloated or thin and lanky as
you want. Why do we need a stupid cat named Boots running around our
desktop and interrupting our work (and eating our memory)?
Have we gotten so bored with our own lives that we mimic it for
amusement purposes?
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.ili. JUST DO IT: Kill All the Prisoners .ili.
---------------------------------------------- by Morbus
Welcome to a world where the death sentence has been implemented... on a
grand scale. Tomorrow, at nine o'clock, all the prisoners of the world
will die.
Killing prisoners has been floating around in the media for a rather
long time. Should we implement the death penalty? Should we broadcast it
on TV? Should we make the penalities harsher? How should we kill the
bastards? With all these questions, no one seemed to be focusing on the
real problem at hand: There are too many people on Death Row as it is...
they just aren't dying fast enough.
By killing them all now, we can have a number of benefits. First, we
won't have to pay for their room and board... we could probably finally
concentrate on cleaning up our homeless population. We'll have all this
space going to waste that there will be no problem shacking up some of
our lesser friends. And, because of the amount of care and maintenance
that will still be needed, no one will lose their job... just maybe
their enjoyment (there's some sick cynicism in that sentence).
But I can hear the cries now.. "what about our innocent boy?", "what you
propose is mass manslaughter!", and "you sick aryan pig". Well...
okay... you all have a point. Yes, there may be some innocence in
prisons now... but if we show compassion, then everyone will suddenly be
innocent, and we will merely be stuck again in a game of "should we" or
"shouldn't we". And yes, it is manslaughter. A manslaughter that could
lead to the deaths of millions of people... all arbitrated by one. We've
had this happen throughout history... you shouldn't be surprised by how
sick it is. You should merely be astounded that no one is covering it up
with the words "war" or "maintaining the peace". And are we aryan pigs?
Well, you could re-read Devil Shat Four for your answer, or listen to it
this way:
Sure, it's genocide, but where the majority of people in prison nowadays
are there because of rape, murder, or other forms of violence, who the
hell cares? It's not like the Reich where there was no reason besides
one man's vision... these people have struck out against our society,
and our society must strike back.
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.ili. Momma Sow and the Piglets .ili.
------------------------------------- by C. Barry Slough
"Time to come strap on the feedbags kids!"
Chili dogs were their favorites, which worked well enough for her. She
whistled a sour ditty as she crumbled a half-dozen laxatives into the
slop. The screen door banged twice and there they stood; the apples of
her sunken eyes, the plumbs plucked from her now wilted womb..... "Eat
up, its your favorite."
"Can we go out and play mommy?"
She smiled and nodded. Of course they could....for about five minutes.
Then they would be back under her watchful gaze, excreting their innards
safely into the commode. How could a mother let her kids out of the
house in this day and age? One has to be extra cautious with the herds
of crazies running amok and raping or kidnapping any foolhardy passerby
that stops to ask for the time or directions. No, she couldn't let that
happen to her beautiful spawn. She smiled when her daughter broke wind
and crossed her legs in a panic.
"Sounds like someone needs to go doodle!"
Her son followed suit a moment later and then, they were both safe and
sound behind the vaulted doors of two different lavatories....purging
their ills with cathartic gusto and eye-watering aroma.
No, her kids would not be victims of this sickening society. She was a
good matron and would see that point through to the very end. After
retiring to the basement where she could hear when the toilets flushed,
she opened a fifth of Jack and downed five diet pills in quick
succession. After two children it was hard to keep her busty figure in
check without some outside assistance. Plus they kept her in a cat-like
trance of awareness. Often nearing the apex of telepathy.
One, then two toilets flushing...."Mommy! My tummy hurts!" Thank god
for ex-lax...a mother's best baby sitter.
"Maybe I shouldn't feed you two rascals any more chilidogs eh?"
"No no no nononononono!!! That's our favorite!"
"Oh, I'm just joking...You want some soda to help your tummies?" Their
heads bobbed in mutual excitement as she headed to the fridge.
"Go plop yourselves in front of the tube and I'll bring you a couple of
glasses...o.k.?" Two diet soft drinks, ten milligrams of good blue
Roche valium in each, and another day that her babies would pass
unscathed. Mom stroked daughter's strawberry locks as she watched the
little one sip and gasp the carbonated sleeping drink from her favorite
Barney Rubble glass. The tele showed scenes of random violence, brutal
behavior towards animals, and more metaphors for glorifying child
molestation than she dared to count. What was the world coming to?
Look at that...a limp-wristed male clown pedaling hamburgers to the
little ones...want to slip them some hothotbeef, huh? You disgusting
painted whoremonger!...You corporate pedophile!...Why, I've got half a
mind to....She needed another drink. She stood with great stealth so as
not to disturb her little cherubs from their slumber, checked to make
sure that her .357 was still where it should be, (in the cereal
cupboard, fully loaded), and poured herself a stiffy. If only every
mother in America was as dedicated as herself, she thought....What
trouble would there be? She carried her two little doves up to bed and
tucked them in to roost.
Soon her husband would be home and she would need to fix him a
satisfying meal to ease his aching body. He had been out on the beat
all day protecting the world from the crazies and he deserved nothing
but the best for his efforts. She put some chops in the microwave to
thaw, popped two more mini-thins, checked the bolt on the front door,
and started to peel the potatoes.
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