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Viewer Discretion vol. 1 issue 11 december 22:98
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\ \ /_/i e w e r issue 11 vol. 1 december 22/98
\ \/| |i s c r e t i o n ISSN 1481-2266
\__| |/ v_d@iname.com
| _ |/ archived at disobey.com
|___|/ http://www.disobey.com/text/
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In this issue:
WELCOME
NO FRILLS OF OUR LIVES - BY GOATBOY
ETC
:: WELCOME ::
Welcome the HoHoHo issue - and the very last one of '98 at that woohoo!
Yes, it's Consumerism, uh, I mean Christmas time again. I hope everyone
has their credit cards maxed out buying presents for those obligations
we call "loved ones"...and that you all have been good little netizens.
Yeah, right...
Anyways, I read about this Alanis Morissette Random Lyric Generator web
page (http://www.brunching.com/toys/toy-alanislyrics.html) on the
Entropy Gradient Reversals list (http://www.rageboy.com/sub-up.html)
and decided to try it out. I figured you guys deserved your very own
VD created, angst ridden Christmas song. So after filling in the few
required plural nouns, etc., I clicked the magic button and biff-bam-
boom here's my Alanis Morissette Christmas song of gloom:
"I Think"
I Think Santa Claus & his elves are really a huge problem
I Think jingle bells are too much on my mind
I Think coloured lights have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?
Like a Black rain, beating down on me
Like a William S. Burroughs line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Pamela Anderson's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
I Think useless presents are gonna drive us all crazy
And happy people make me feel like a child
I Think Christmas trees will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?
Like a Black rain, beating down on me
Like a William S. Burroughs line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Pamela Anderson's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
Like a Black rain, beating down on me
Like Pamela Anderson's smile, cruel and cold
Like William S. Burroughs' ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
Blame it on Christmas
Well, there you have it. What does it mean? I have no idea but it
seemed like the right thing to do at the time...
So this is a really short Christmas issue 'cause I doubt anyone has the
time or desire to be hanging around their computer reading ezines over
the holiday, at least I don't. Goatboy has given us a sure to repeated
Christmas classic column all about Christmas in the grocery store...
Thanks to everyone who reads and contributes to VD. I like to wish you
all a Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas/Joyeux Noel and all those other
politically correct expressions I should know but don't. And have a
happy, healthy, prosperous New Years everyone. I'd give you all a group
hug but I have this germ phobia thing... See you in '99.
:: NO FRILLS OF OUR LIVES - BY GOATBOY ::
I'll keep this short, because if I think any longer of the silly drivel I
had to endure, I am going to go psycho.
There are three things which go to show you that it's Christmas. The
arrival of egg nog. First from small orders, to extremely gigantic
ones. There is not a day that goes by that we do not get some useless
person to society that, no matter how big and yellow, no matter how it
says in big Arial bold letters EGG NOG, no matter it says it's 87 cents
in the same style, and a big fucking gigantic arrow points at it, will
ask me where the egg nog and how much the fuck it is.
Christmas carols start exactly on December 1st. They are gradually
added to the random boring songs that play during the day. That's
right, suddenly "My heart will go on" and "I don't wanna be alone" by
the BeeGees are not among the top 10 most popular songs which show you
have been working too long when you hear them twice in on the same day.
Every possible variation of the same Christmas carol will suddenly be
shared among the store's PA. Some of this stuff is so old, my
grandfather was probably still shitting his diapers when he first heard
it. The worse part is that as December draws closer, the songs
increase. For every one normal song, there is a Country Music
Christmas Carol waiting to happen. Or a Broadway variation of "Jingle
Bells". Or, to cause me extreme pain, a remake, without words, of
"Santa Claws is coming" done on a digital keyboard, sounding just like
those guys that sleep and play their tunes in the Subway. The only
jingle you'll hear is the one of my balls as I try to contain myself
from committing homicide.
Lastly, Christmas decor. I hate Christmas decor. I don't want to see
little balls hanging at the corner of the aisle, or mistletoe drawn on
the fliers. Please spare me this stuff, it hurts me. I'm not a
worshipper of Satan, but this is a fucking grocery store, for
Chrissake! NINETY PERCENT of the people that shop here are fresh off
the boat from some remote country-stain, and have no idea nor give a
rat's ass about Jesus, Santa Claus and all his balls.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
:: ETC ::
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Viewer Discretion, VD, its content are. <-Zen style copyright, uh yeah.
Viewer Discretion is archived exclusively at Low Bandwidth -
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because Morbus is like CyberSanta or CyberClaus take your pick.
Goatboy appears courtesy of capnasty.org
And remember Santa Claus is a state of mind...
Fa-lalala-laa la la la laa
Next issue January 6/99
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Morbus made me put this here cos he's a "visionary"...
Viewer Discretion and its back issues are available at:
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Viewer Discretion, VD, its content are. <-Zen style copyright, uh yeah.
Copyright 1998-2000 Neil MacKay <-Legal style copyright, uh huh.
Publication by Disobey.
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...whatever...dogs bark...but the caravan moves on.
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