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// "CORE DUMP" \\
(( 09/02/02 470K, 8519 lines anada518 ))
\) (/
I've spent 2 or 3 years now
writing to get by
other zines make it day to day
I still wonder why
(My sincerest apologies to GLU.)
Happy 2nd birthday to Anada.
Along with this happy birthday, I've spent a lot of time trying to discern
the need for Anada to go on. Another year of paying for webspace, another
two years of domain registration, another couple hours of my week tweaking
and editing and doing all the gruntwork. Don't get me wrong -- I don't mind
all of that, really, as long as the outcome is something with which I can
feel proud. I like to be able to brag about Anada.
But lately, everything has been a little too bland. It almost seems to be
run by everyone but me, and it gets a little bit distracting. You see, I'm
taking my Anada back. I'm making changes, doing things that I've always
wanted to do with the 'zine but were afraid to do because I didn't want to
alienate anyone. The purpose and design of Anada was to be an open forum
for writers of all types and to bring people together. It accomplishes
this, and quite well. But it's missing something. It's missing the style
points.
So in my neverending quest to turn Anada into something of which I can be
truly proud as well as provide a bit of excitement, I've decided I'm going
to mix things up quite a bit. I'm going to give it some coherence. I'm
going to make it fun for me all over again.
And this issue is a start: I'm cleaning out all of the rejects, all of the
files in line to be published, all of the "secret" mailing-list-only files,
EVERYTHING. Starting off from ground zero, starting with the next release.
No more "regular" release dates. No more regular format. No more file size
requirements. There will be random theme issues, random digest releases,
and the occasional file that I believe should stand on its own.
Entropy. Chaos. Something to look forward to, just because it's different.
I hope you enjoy the change, because if you don't, TOUGH!
Glee!
--Gloomchen
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
TABLE OF CONTENTS
"Editor's Note" by Gloomchen.........................................line 17
Table of Contents....................................................line 42
"Reeking Like Eating" by Pseudoficial...............................line 100
"Sky-Girl, I Cannot" by Aura Noir...................................line 127
"Fodder" by Michelle................................................line 332
Reviews from MadIguanaCon...........................................line 406
"Cellblock C" by HapyHzrd...........................................line 700
Untitled by Angela..................................................line 712
"School" by author unknown..........................................line 754
"Birthday Boy" by Pavement..........................................line 822
Anada's War with Hoe That Never Happened............................line 834
"Lost" by Kristen F................................................line 1132
"I Just Don't Get It" by Nana......................................line 1156
"InCyDe ThE MiNd Of A tEeNaGe ZoMbIe" by FormerlyKnownAsSexyPickle.line 1194
Anada's SUPER SECRET MAILING LIST ONLY 'ZINE #1-20.................line 1215
"Grabbinghands" by Unlit...........................................line 2877
"Interrobang" by Phelign...........................................line 2899
"Roadkill Worship" submitted by Effy...............................line 2931
The Forbidden Files: Jason.........................................line 3024
"Lost Angel" by AngelIBP...........................................line 3931
"Must-See Afghan TV" revised by Funnigerl5.........................line 3944
"Pullin' A Squinky" by Phairgirl/Gloomchen.........................line 4039
"Words of Encouragement" by Jo Oh..................................line 4130
The ZOWEE files: Pavement..........................................line 4140
"Strange Bedfellows" by xxDismalxx.................................line 4759
Infernal's First Staff Bio (hee hee hee)...........................line 4792
"Police State 2000" by Jason Harper/Munky/SexyPickle...............line 4827
"I Swear It's True" by Oregano.....................................line 4851
The Long Lost Hook Files of Carole.................................line 4973
"Post-Script" by Gloomchen.........................................line 8491
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Reeking Like Eating"
by Pseudoficial
pasta with baby parts,
noodly smelling like old people.
in the heat of the peeper.
picking wind bi polar,
nothing - si - la orange peel.
is ten - ha - orange ta people.
please write big people.
never seclude lamination - over people
i think haste of the past.
puncture while biting prune -
nicholas says lars over poops
it though, hurry on the peak.
pass wicked bright plumes,
nescience sorry last october puckering
ice thorough, hillybilly ostentatious to pot.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Sky-Girl, I Cannot"
by Aura Noir
When I was a much younger man, and the world was much younger then as
well, I lived in a village called Maren, on the edge of the high plains to
the west. During the summer of the Southern Moon I took as a wife the most
beautiful girl in the village. And this was no small feat, as all the girls
of Maren were reknowned for their beauty.
It came to pass that on the eve of the autumn equinox my bride
reached her time, and, as was the tradition, she was ordered to the place
where women go each month during their time. This served two purposes:
firstly, so the women would not contaminate the village with their blood,
which can be poison, and secondly, the women, especially if they reached
their time when the moon was near full, they can go mad, and are often
irritable and disobedient.
My wife was away, and this troubled me, as it always did. Men were
not allowed to go to their place, and I often wondered if it was safe, or if
they feared the beasts of the wild in the cold nights. Once, when I had the
foolish bravery of a child, I slipped from my home and traveled to the
women's place. I was near my goal when a beast startled me, and in my
fright I ran away, never to return.
So it was that on the eve of the autumn equinox I was in my
bedclothes sitting on the floor, awake while the village slept around me. I
prayed to the moon gods that she be kept safe, as I did every month when her
time came. Again and again I prayed, as much to protect her as to keep my
mind from worrying. It was not common in those days for a man to pray to
moon gods, as they were patrons of all women, and men could never truly know
them, but I had studied for some time under a man with wisdom of all gods,
I thus knew the proper prayers. Eventually I fell asleep.
In my dreams a yellow fieldmouse appeared to me. She told me many
things.
"There are more places in this world than you know. The place you
know, which we call the hard place, is but one of three. I am from the sky-
place, and from here we can see the hard place, our own sky-place, and the
third place, which has no name. This third place has many wonders, and is
not unlike your own place, save for the men that inhabit it, who are tall
and pale, and value fellowship above all else."
This was all very strange to me. "But what of this sky-place?" I
asked. "What manner of place is this? And what has brought you here to my
dream to tell me of it?"
The fieldmouse laughed at my questions. "I have told you because I
wish you to take me as a wife."
"But I already have a wife."
"Indeed? I see her not."
"She is not here because she reached her time, and the leaders of
this village have ordained that she be taken away until her time is over."
"Even so, I ask you again to make me as your wife. I am from the
sky-place, and your women mean nothing to me."
"I am sorry, but I already have a wife. Please leave me be. I wish
only to dream of pleasant things this night."
"Very well, but should you change your mind, there is a place that is
part of both our worlds. A small clearing, just across the river north from
here. Come and I will greet you."
"Thank you fieldmouse, but I do not believe I shall ever have need of
a wife from the sky-place."
And with that, my dreams turned to gold and strawberries, and I soon
forgot all I had learned.
The fieldmouse, however, had not forgotten, and she conspired still
to make me her groom. On the last night of my wife's time, she was bending
to gather water from a stream when a snake sprung from the water and bit her
ankle. She died and was buried at the woman's place. I cried for days. In
the morning I would look toward the women's place and resolve to travel
there, to see my wife one final time. But fear overtook me, and I thought
of the beast I saw as a child, and I never journeyed there.
Seven years passed, and I had not taken another wife. The men of the
village often asked me when I would take a new wife, but my reply was always
the same:
"I have a wife already. She has reached her time and is gone. I am
awaiting her return."
Night after night I awaited her return. I knew, in my heart, that
she would not return, but this ritual kept me from shedding too many tears,
and gave my life a sense of purpose.
One morning I was given orders to travel north, to the great river
that flows there, and gather gopherwood from the fine forests. Along the
way I met a large raven, who spoke to me.
"There is a place, not far from here, that is also a part of the sky-
place. Do you know where this is?"
I had long since forgotten my encounter with the fieldmouse and
answered, "No, I do not. What manner of place is this?" But my mind was
already working, and I soon remembered my dream all those years ago.
"I am but a raven, and there are many things I cannot tell you,
unless in your heart you know them already. Again I ask, do you know where
this place is?"
"Yes. Yes I do. There is a clearing across the river that is part
of both this place and the sky-place."
The raven cawed and flew away.
I reached the river and crossed it, heading towards the grove of
gopherwood tress. It was here that I came upon the clearing. As I stood in
wonder, the fieldmouse appeared. It said to me, "At long last you have
heeded my call. Do you wish now to take me as your wife?"
"No," I said to the yellow fieldmouse. "My wife has reached her
time, and is gone. I am awaiting her return."
The fieldmouse then became a girl. She was the most beautiful girl I
had ever seen, aside from my dead wife, and she had broad wings, white as
snow, with feathers like an eagle's.
The sky-girl spoke, and her voice sounded of leaves rustling in the
morning.
"Why do you deny me? I have yet to know a man, and it bears heavily
on my heart. There are no men in the sky-place that I fancy, and your wife
is gone. She is dead. Please, be my husband. I can offer you all of the
gold in the palace of the sky-place."
"Sky-girl, I cannot."
"I can offer you the sweetest of grapes from our vineyards, ripened
to perfection by the gentle sun, if I could be your wife."
"Sky-girl, I cannot."
"I can offer you the greatest of palaces, with all the servants you
could desire, if only you would take me as your wife."
"Sky-girl, I cannot."
"I can offer you all the secrets of the gods, and their power as
well. Take me as your wife, please."
"As I have said, I cannot do that. I am sorry." The sky-girl began
to cry, and she sat down in mud.
"Why do you cry?" I asked her. "And please, do not sit in the mud.
It tarnishes your beauty, and soils you clothing."
"Leave me be!" the sky-girl replied. "If you will not be my husband,
then there is no need for you to remain here. Leave me be."
Her words tugged at my heart, and I knew not what to do. I had been
so faithful, so devoted to my dead wife, that I knew I could not marry this
sky-girl. But I had a duty, as an honorable man of Maren, to comfort the
sky-girl and help as I could.
"What of the third place you spoke of. The place with no name. Are
there no men in that place to take as a husband?"
"The third place? The men there care only for fellowship, for other
men. They are of no use to me. They do not know women as your men do. I
had come as a fieldmouse seeking you because I believed you would not deny
me. It appears that I have erred."
"Yes. Yes you have erred, and for this I am sorry. Why are there no
sky-men to your liking?"
"Our men are vain and arrogant. They know not the meaning of true
love. The men of your place are faithful, and know true love."
"So you see now why I cannot be your husband. I have known true
love, and I do not forget. My wife is dead, yes, but she lives on, as does
our love, as long as I do not forget."
The sky-girl sighed. She understood now that I was indeed in love
with my wife, who was dead, and would not take another despite this. She
became a fieldmouse again (she was no longer yellow, however, because she
had been in mud. This is why to this day the fieldmouse is brown) and
scurried off, back to the sky-place.
I never saw the sky-girl again. I finished gathering my gopherwood
and returned home, telling no one of my encounter. Every time I saw a brown
fieldmouse, I would ponder for a moment. I would think of the great place
in the sky, with beautiful girls with angel wings, and vinyeards in the sun,
and palaces of gold. And I would think of the place with no name, full of
tall pale men who know no woman. I would think upon these wonders. And I
would think of my wife, the greatet wonder of them all, and the most
beautiful girl in the village of Maren.
To this day, I am still asked why I have not taken a new wife, and my
answer is this: "My wife has gone away. And someday, when I am brave and
old enough, I will face the wild beasts of the forest and return to her. I
know in my heart now where she is, and a raven will guide me to her place.
"I love her, and even the greatest gift cannot change this fact."
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Fodder"
by Michelle
I kill people.
Why do I kill people?
Why not? The pay is pretty decent... and it's better than working
for a bunch of fucking morons who couldn't tell which side they fired from
even if the barrel of their gun was up their ass and the trigger on a pull
string in their own hand.
As you can see by your possibly amazing powers of deduction, I am not
and never will be a people person. Maybe if the terms were different I
would of made a decent team player... but right now, with these terms I
couldn't give half a flying fuck as to what everyone feels before I blow
their heads off.
Oh well. Shit happens. Get off the soapbox and deal with it.
Now you're probably wondering if I'm one of those stupid lone killers
or something. The types with duster jackets, cigarettes they never seem to
really smoke all the way through, and an aim that could probably be improved
if they had their eyes removed... you know the types, I'm sure you've seen
all them. Their flashy dark personalities and names like "Death bringer"
and "Hand of God"... I run those types of morons over if they manage to
wander into the road... and if there's time... also back over them and run
them over a few extra times for the hell of it.
It s the only hobby I can really call a hobby actually.
No. No. Don't go and call me sick now.
I can call myself sick without your help, but I'd prefer not to...
all that self-title crap only leaves a bad taste in my mouth by the next
day. Besides, see it this way, its me, or its a large over populated land
of morons with guns and crappy aim. Now do you see my point?
Good.
Do I have a name? Yes. Actually I do.
Oh, you want to know what it is?
Okay I suppose... its Sasha. My last name? Youngan.
It won't do you much good... Youngan isn't even my real last name.
It s the name in my hat. Young An. Cute, eh?
Yeah, loads of laughs. Now you'll probably want to know if I have
any family to speak of and do they support what I do...
Hmm... hit the nail on the head. No. I don't know and I don't
really care if I have any relatives running around at the current moment.
And I'm sure that if they knew what I did they would go right out and get
lost once more. So that's one problem off the list.
Anything else you really need to know?
Oh. I'll guess again for you, will there ever be a time when I stop
killing people? Please pardon the fact that I can't remove that ducttape
from your mouth, but I know you'll only scream.
Well... to answer that... my end of being an assassin certainly won't
begin and or end with you. Now put on a happy face, it's time and I'd
really hate to make such a hasty exit with a dreary state of mind.
-BANG- -Shlump-
Been nice talking with you though...
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
REVIEWS FROM MADIGUANACON
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Con Review"
by Lachrymite
Droo and Harvey drive drive drive, I'll dance in backseat with Mogel!
Dance dance dance. Ooooo! We are here!
No one else is here yet, oh well.
Mogel and I watch Teletubbies for awhile. Scary! Mogel, Harvey, and Droo
go eat. Soap opera time! Watch soap operas, fall asleep on floor for half
hour.
People are here! Hi! Yay, I can go in my room now.
More more more people show up. Hi! Hmm, tired tired. Awake for 35 hours.
Wussy about lack of sleep, need sleep!
I have a cat on my lap! Yay! Mia and I hang out together for a few hours,
I love her, she is nice to me. Matilda is being a little snooty, but she's
stressed so she needs company. Ooo, don't lick Matilda's head off, Mia!
Yay! Time for the Pokemon movie! More people show up as we are going,
and they come with us. One keeps calling me Commander Alpha.
Mogel sleeps through most of the Pokemon movie. Little does he know in the
weeks ahead, I will convert him into a die-hard "Gotta catch 'em all!"
groupie, yay!
Things start to get fuzzy. We are back at the suite I will sleep in.
I've been awake for around 40 hours now. I suddenly realize I'm in
Wisconsin. Why the fuck am I in Wisconsin? Oh well.
People keep talking in the suite, I don't have anywhere to go sleep. I lay
on the floor and stare at the ceiling, my mind racing with silly thoughts.
People leave.
Hmm, time to sleep! I pass out on the couch. This is more comfortable than
my bed at home. I don't have a bed at home. I live pretty ghetto
currently. Even though I don't get a bed, I'm happy, the couch is comfy.
I just wish I had a pikachu to cuddle with while I sleep.
Wow, I'm awake! I feel a lot more coherent today. I'm grumpy though. I
don't want to go to State Street, it sounds stupid.
I sleep a little longer.
Oh, the people I've attached myself to are going too, just a bit later than
everyone else. Well, OK, I'll go too. Ooooooo! I get to eat NOODLES! Yum
yum yum, eat the noodles. I don't eat very much though, I'm a very slow
eater.
Yay, walk down the street.... Oooooo! People yelling and holding up signs!
"Blah blah blah, don't buy shoes, blah blah blah!" Silly people! Annoying
me is only going to make me want to send YOU into a sweatshop, not make me
want to not buy sweatshop stuff.
Oh, look! It's everybody else! Hi everybody else! OK, we are walking...
Hi homeless guy, want to play a game?
OK, off to someone's house I don't know. Leave a note in the door! I'm not
feeling grumpy anymore, just kind of disoriented and silly.
OK, back at the suite... there are too many people here. Hmph. Time to go
hide. Yay, hiding with the cats! I'll pet the cats for a few hours...
pet pet pet... Oh, hello person-on-their-way-to-the-bathroom! How are
you? Bye! Have fun peeing! Repeat a few times... pet, pet, pet.
Oh! Time to go eat! Chug a little rum first. YAYAYAY! NOW I'M
SILLLLLLLY!
Walk walk walk. Hmmm... wrong pizza place, but oh well!
Oh no! There's meat on this pizza! Oh no! That giant head is tingling, I
hope it doesn't explode!
Yum yum yum, eat some more stuff. Wow! Those two people are practically
humping! Sheesh, some people don't need any privacy at all.
Walk walk walk, yay, back home. Blah blah blah, be social, rather would be
petting cats some more. Blah blah blah. Hmm, everyone is going away.
Good night. Eeeeeeek! I need to leave in a few hours, and everyone is
asleep. Ooooooo! Matilda came to say bye to me! Cuddle Matilda for a
little while, she goes off to sleep with Summer.
Oh! People knocking on the door! Hi people! Time to go? OK, off we go.
Sleep sleep sleep in backseat. 15 hours go by. Hop on train, go home.
Wait wait wait. Yay, home! Time to sleep some more! I wish I had a cat to
pet goodnight though.
[*****]
"Con Review"
by Soybean
So, about the con. I flew into Chicago Thursday night, five minutes
before Jamesy. We stayed at his mom's house. Jamesy's mom is cool. His
dog is cool. I learned that there is nothing open past midnight in Morton
Grove. I learned that people are tricky and that wildflowers are the same
as weeds. I only got 2-3 hours of sleep, I think. That seems to be what
happens when I trick someone into watching a movie by not pointing out that
it sucks beforehand.
SHOUT OUTS TO THOSE NOT AT THE CON:
Jamesy's Mom: THANKS FOR SHOWING ME ALL OF THE DOG'S TOYS!!!
Jamesy's Dog: THANKS FOR SHEDDING ALL OVER ME!!!
So, then g0ff and Steev came over. Anna and a big inflatable cicada
were present. We drove to Wisconsin -- it is quite the party state, judging
from such as the FIREWORKS & CHEESE place in Beloit, WI, across from the
Taco Bell. Steev started 2599.something while we were sitting in the
backseat. g0ff succeeded admirably at being g0ff during the drive. Jamesy
was very good at sitting in the front seat. Anna did a good job flying from
the shelf-area behind the backseat into her box when we had to brake
suddenly. I think that actually happened on the way back, though, so
nevermind. Outside of Madison we saw a billboard for ROBOT WORLD. I think
I will have to make that drive again sometime soon.
Going to Wisconsin was great, aside from the con, because it really
pissed my brother off. We have been having a competition for a number of
years to see who can make it to all fifty states first. Since, in the past,
we have always been out of town together, it has been a pretty impossible
race to win. Until last week we both just had Alaska, Hawaii, Michigan,
Minnesota, Oklahoma, and Wisconsin to go. Thanks to Summer and this con, he
is angry as hell because I got to Wisconsin first. The whole trip was made
worthwhile.
I think the excitement ended when I missed Robot World.
We showed up at the hotel, g0ff got room #251, which Anna promptly
hid out in all weekend.
I thought Quarex was lost in Canada, but it turns out he and RottenZ
were at the mall.
Umm. I took a walk with Tortoise, and ended up with a lot of crazy
stuff in my shoes.
So.
SHOUT OUTS TO YOU FOLKS AT THE CON --
Jamesy: THANK YOU FOR ENTERTAINING ME ON THURSDAY AND GIVING ME
SOMEWHERE TO STAY. Jamesy is one smooth son-of-a-bitch.
Steev: THANK YOU FOR DRIVING ME TO THE AIRPORT. (AND ENTERTAINING
ME.) You are on My List.
g0ff: THANK YOU FOR DRIVING ME TO AND FROM MADISON. You are great,
except when you play Miranda July in the car.
Summer: THANK YOU FOR HAVING THE CON IN WISCONSIN. You blew your
nose a lot! I didn't talk to you very much!
Effy: uhh. This previously said something that didn't make much
sense, so I've decided to get rid of it. I give up. I never
really talked to you, too.
Amanda: THANK YOU FOR HAVING A WISCONSIN ACCENT? I never really
talked to you either.
Seaya: THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME TO LINK WITH YOU. You are on the
list, I swear. A different list than Steev, though.
Harbey: THANK YOU FOR BEING ORANGE. When I'm in NYC in MAY, I will
take a picture of your crotch, as per your request.
Droo: THANK YOU FOR NOT UNDERSTANDING PIZZA. You are not a bad
person just because you don't understand.
Quarex: THANK YOU FOR SPRAINING MY FINGER AND BREAKING MY RIB. Love.
RottenZ: THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A BLANKET WHEN I SLEPT ON THE FLOOR
SATURDAY NIGHT. You have a ridiculous goatee.
Art: THANK YOU FOR, UHHH. GOING TO THE CON SO I COULD SEE YOU
WITH SHORT HAIR. You were wearing paisley shirt.
Tortoise: THANK YOU FOR GOING ON A WALK WITH ME SO I COULD GET SPIKY
THINGS IN MY SOCKS. You are lucky to be going to Spring
Green.
Trilobyte: THANK YOU FOR HAVING THAT TSHIRT I ALMOST GOT A FEW YEARS
AGO. Your eyebrows remain the same.
Lach: THANK YOU FOR SLEEPING A LOT, ACCORDING TO MY PICTURES. You
are a Libertarian. Hah hah!
Thext: THANK YOU FOR BEING FROM MONTREAL AND HAVING BUTTS ON YOUR
TSHIRT. I had a meal with you and we didn't talk to each
other.
Mogel: We never have much to say to each other in person. Or on
IRC, for that matter. THANKS!!
Elicia: THANKS.
Sunday afternoon I hung out with Steev and Jamesy until my flight
left that night. I also got to catch a glimpse of Steve of
www.steveandstevedanceparty.com, as well as eat food with Uberfizzgig.
MORE SHOUT OUTS TO THOSE NOT AT THE CON --
Steve: THANK YOU FOR LEAVING WHEN WE ARRIVED SO I COULD SEE YOU.
You look like Steev's shockwave rendition of you. That is
not meant to be offensive.
Uberfizz: THANK YOU FOR COMING TO PLAY ON SUNDAY. Wink, wink!!!!!
[*****]
"The Cow Says"
by Mogel
I ain't be seein' no point to be writin' no con-ven-shun review when it
ain't nothin' but a gatherin' of a couple o' ol' text file buddies in a
hotel in some ol' town in some ol' place in this grand ol' country we
call the U.S. of A. But, still, my good lil' buddies, down on the farm,
writin' this here review for ya'll to lasso up 'n ya doggone teethies into.
Round these parts, everybody knows that when ya give ol' Mogel a forum
to flap his trap, he don't ever shut up! That's what's a-goin' on right
now, in fact, I'm just gonna ramble like it ain't no kinda thing.
LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT LAMENT
Me myself, I'm mogel. I'm a text file LEGEND. I wrote a whole ton of
text files! That's my place in history! In fact, I'm so god damn important
because I originally started all this. You all owe all your relationships
and friendships and writing talent to me. Hahoeaheoheoahea, okay, well,
originally I started this thing called "DummerCon" (with black francis of
pEz, to make fun of some hacker convention) in '94 and it was the first
ALL TEXT gathering for our particular post-apathetic clique of e'zine
writers, right around the first time I tried to kill off HOE. Back then,
we ended up having about 18 people show up, many of which necessarily write
for 'zines. Turns out, 6 years later, we have another con where that
also happens. FULL CIRCLE, some of my simplistic imitators would say, but
no, it's more. Not a lot more, but more.
See, e'zine conventions never actually directly discuss e'zines. They are
excuses for similarly-involved weirdos who are often geeks to get together
and act like idiots for a period of time and then drift away for another
year. Communities need these things, I guess. Maybe.
I'm really not interested in talking about GOING TO CHICAGO CON (which is
the real name for this event, despite what Phairgirl says, since that's
the name of the mailing list I subscribed to is called, hahehohoaehaoha god
I'm silly), 'cause there's not much to say.
Effy and ThExt were essentially the only people I hadn't previously met
(some on several occasions), and they seemed like pretty swell folks.
Clearly I knew Effy pretty well already, since she is my esteemed HOE 4
LIPHE buddy, but it's good to actually meet people. That's what my mother
tells me. She doesn't understand this "computer stuff" at all! I sat her
down the other day, and she read a buncha my writing and she was pretty
content with it, which I guess is some sort of demented encouragement,
regardless of the topics I choose to write about ("PHUN WITH SHIT").
So, we went around the swell city of Madison and I liked the city and I
made a number of stupid quips and there wasn't a single person at the con
that irritated me. I really enjoyed the crowd. I kind of wish things were
more intimate, though--the "CON" setting is important since many of us can't
(and shouldn't, really) afford BIG TRIPS to meet compu-people, but I found
that the 2-4 circles of conversation were far more worthwhile. Perhaps the
ideal "CON" setting would be a huge-ass house, where there's many rooms
open to be used--and people can freely wander in and out of random rooms to
join conversations and activities at whim. That'd be like an RPG con, g0ff!
Much to my surprise, I really enjoyed hanging out with Jamesy especially
this weekend, and we went off on several occasions to suck each other's
raging cock. I am talking about homosexuality, by the way, because that's
funny. It's funny to talk about homosexuality because I am not actually
gay, and by talking about it, I am saying that I'm not gay. Of course,
my obsession with it would suggest that I am still actually gay, but then
my acknowledgement of THAT would suggest that I am entirely secure in my
sexual identity.
So we just held each other. ha ha.
Things were mellow and nice, though, and I think Summer did a swell job.
This is essentially what a text file con should be--although a little more
excessive drunkeness and random crazyness would've made things more
eventful, I guess. Us text folk are known for being "WACKY!!" and there
actually wasn't all that much wackiness a-happenin'.
Recently I went to some hacker event (H2K) and I met a ton of guys that I
followed in my teenage-text years and I feel that some sort of closure has
finally occured with my past. I've met most of my heroes, man. So, in
conclusion, cons are good. What?
-Mogel
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Cellblock C"
by HapyHzrd
Within these walls of stone and hate
a piece of mind retaliates.
A part of which that says and does
everything I wish I was.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
Untitled
by Angela
Ya know, I've been thinking. Thinking about my life, thinking about
my environment
all of that stuff. The only sense that I've been able to
make about this jumbled mess that is my reality, is that I AM DIFFERENT.
For me, it has been hard to come to this realization, because I've tried
ultimately too hard to fit in. Some people would think what makes me
different is a positive thing. Or many positive things
merely wrapped up in
the blanket of me, quite haphazardly I might add.
Okay, now let me explain. I've always FELT different in a way. Like
I don't fit in, or I think in more complex ways than those around me do.
I've begun to see a therapist, I've only actually been two times, but it's
really giving me a chance to evaluate myself, and all of the components that
make me.
I really am a mess though. Unbelievable compassion mixed with a rage
that can be released all too easily, a pessimistic view on this life and
whatever doubtfully comes afterward, but still the hope (and honestly I must
say ignorance is a factor) that when this machine that I control ceases to
function, there will be something left over to live on. Which, just simply
ISN'T LOGICAL. I could go on and on about the little quirks and flaws that
compose who and what I am, but I don't feel that is necessary to get my
point across efficiently.
With this image, you know, healthy mental state, a body devoid of
fat, perfect smile, flawless skin, the whole nine yards
well, it makes all
of the hopelessly deep and romantic treasures feel like outsiders. Mutants,
yadda yadda yadda. I'm certainly not saying that I'm a treasure. The so
called "beautiful people" have succeeded very well in diminishing my self
esteem, but I still look up to, and LOOK FOR the intelligent "weirdos."
Extraordinary human beings that actually THINK
that have content to
themselves. Well, if you can make anything out of this mess of words, I'm
happy. And, if I somehow got my point across, I'm even happier.
FIN
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"School"
author unknown
I've been thinking again.
I know, I said I would stop, but I just can't. I do it a home when
I'm by myself, and sometimes I even sneak in a quick thought while I'm at
work. Yes, I think and drive, too. I know it's bad, but I just can't help
myself.
Unless you're a recent immigrant from Nepal, you're surely aware of
the so-called "zero tolerance policy" being adopted by many schools since a
couple of nutcases shot up Columbine and a handful of slacker copycats
followed suit. Under the cover story of "protecting the kids," they've used
that as a blanket excuse to crush anybody who's a little weird, with perhaps
differently colored hair or dark clothes or independent thought. Hell, I
KNOW I would have been thrown out of school under that stupid rule, since I
drew doodles people getting killed all the time in a variety of hideous
ways. I'm thinking that having authority figures leaning on teased, outcast
kids might be the thing that pushes them over the edge and causes them to go
nuts and mow down their math class. I mean, hell, I haven't killed anybody,
and I had a very violent imagination.
Not since 'Nam, anyway, but I was just serving my country.
Well, there was that one time at the railroad yard... and that dude
in the subway. Oh yes, and that busload of nuns.
Come to think of it, most people haven't killed as many as I have,
but that's beside the point! What REALLY bugs me is that thing about not
allowing anything into schools that could be used as a weapon, including
nail files, berets, and other such things. Sure, I can understand why
assault rifles and switchblades should be frowned upon, but that broad and
arbitrary criteria of "anything that can be used as a weapon" is just open
to abuse. After all, technically you'd have to ban pencils, pens, scissors,
rulers, spiral notebooks, shoelaces, belts, compasses, paintbrushes,
markers, keys, glasses, hardcover books, rings, chairs, baseball bats,
football helmets, balls, desks, chalk, teeth, arms, legs, walls, floors,
forks, spoons, trays, and shotguns. Kiss my hairy butt, brain-dead school
administrators who couldn't get real jobs as GYM TEACHERS so they became
principals!
I have also decided that the southern states were not worth the
spilling of Yankee blood to keep. If Abraham Lincoln could see the
backward, yokel-infested, intellectually stagnant cesspool the south has
become, he would surely have said, "So long southern states! Don't let the
door hit your ass on the way out!" The rest of the nation would breathe a
sigh of relief. "Boy," they'd think, "we thought they'd NEVER leave!" Oh
sure, you say that Florida isn't too bad, but that's only because
northerners have taken it over. Hell, the CSA would qualify as third-world
country. We'd be better off being rid of them.
My brother, however, came up with a drawback. Yes indeed, although
he is not of divine origin as I am, I believe the years bathing in the
radiance of my intellect has stimulated his human brains to heights
unattainable by most normals. He pointed out that we would have the same
problem we have today with illegal immigrants from Mexico, except that we'd
have to protect a border that's three times longer. I must grudgingly admit
that this may be worse than just putting up with them in the long run, but
at least we'll be allowed to shoot a few of them as they try to get past the
razor wire.
Yep, I would have been thrown out of school.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Birthday Boy"
by Pavement
Yesterday was my 22nd birthday. Got astronomically drunk / high,
check. Pointlessly flirted with girls at bar, check. Horrible hangover at
work today and spotty memory of the night before, check. All in all,
another successful birthday.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
ANADA'S WAR WITH HOE THAT NEVER HAPPENED
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"God takes a shit and out comes..."
by Alek
OK, so every once in awhile, God has to take a crap. He's like only
human and junk, or something, ya know. So, anyhow, yeah, God really needed
to fucking crap one day. I mean a HUGE fucking crap. Like take the
biggest, longest crap you ever ever took in yr entire life and multiply that
by a zillion and thats how big God's crap was gonna be. So, anyhow, God sat
down on his gigantic toilet. Now this toilet is pretty fucking big because
everyone knows that God is one fat fuck. its true! its true! And he eats
babies too. But, i digress.
So, God sits down on his gigantic huge fucking throne to take the
largest crap ever taken (Guinness Record officials are on hand). Veins are
fucking bulging out of his forehead and hes all red and hes screaming, "God
damnit, come the fuck out already! Jesus fuckin' christ!" Its quite
obvious that God had been eating many fried cheese and sardine sandwiches.
He was very constipated.
After countless hours of squeezing and pushing, God let out the
biggest crap ever. When God was done a few days later, he wiped and got up
to check the toilet. You see, God always inspects his feces for fiber. Its
true, its true! God was truly astonished at what he saw in his crapper.
Some dude with a t-shirt that said HOE on it started yelling about
some stuff, but no one knew what he was talking about cuz hes a stupid fuck
or something. then there was a girl who had boobs and junk and she like to
talk to the poo. she had a HOE shirt on. i think she was one of the
godfather's ladies.
There were some other dudes that said they were writers for an ezine
or some shit but no one cares about their loser asses cuz they are loser
asses. everyone knows technology is gay and no one gives two tugs of a dead
dogs cock about yr gay star trek website or yr backstreet boys porno britney
spear shaving pics CLICK HERE!
um, what?
so these people with HOE tshirts are swimming around in fecal water
and having a grand ol time cuz theyre pretty much accostomed of wallowing in
shit (LOL!). WHOOOOoooo! take that cracker motherfuckas!
um, so in conclusion or whatever, um if you read HOE, yr gay and you
support a bunch of baby eating, tree huggin, dirty, skanky, bottom feeding,
brutal, trashbage hoes and that my friends IS TRUE!
(note to summer: what's HOE?)
[*****]
"Hoe is Bad"
by aster
HOE=PHLEH=BOOGERS
IT IS PRODUCED BY AN EVIL MEAN FROG
DONT READ IT
[*****]
"WAR"
by Effy
-- War is as anachronistic as cannibalism, slavery and colonialism.
--Rosalie Bertell, of the Horizon Electronic Magazine for IRPA
(International Peace Research Association)
As the sole neutral representor of opposing sides of this dark time
in the history of our culture, I would like to take a few moments to lament
on this atrocious situation that is now very obviously directly affecting
our day to day lives. It makes me sad to witness such ugly belligerence in
a once so peaceful environment. This massive dispute, this veritable civil
war between Hoe and Anada is taking its toll on us, and could quite possibly
end with major consequences, such as the destruction of ezine culture as it
is known today. Every night before I go to bed, I pray to our holy mother
Mogel that light will be shed upon our fingertips, and those who oppose each
other will only have kind words to say from that day forward. I then dream
of a text file world where we do not need to claw at each other s throats
and gnaw at each other s weaknesses in order to be humorous, in order to be
accepted, to gain rank and power.
-- We here at HOE have decided that we're going to declare WAR on the
timeless force of mediocrity...We're slapping down our own bastard
offspring, that paragon of the putrid, Anada...Are you hearing me, you sorry
assholes? Did you eat the banana yet, you sick fucking animals? --AIDS
AIDS (also known as J arett Kobek), assistant editor of Hoe,
epitomizes this tendency that has become all too natural in the past years.
It makes sense, considering he is the initiator of this war. But deep down
inside AIDS s heart, we must realize that he doesn t really want to fight.
He merely wants his children and his children s children to view the history
of the text file scene as a fascinating saga which must be repeatedly
relived in order to keep the dwindling community alive and thriving.
-- I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and
mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the
crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the [TEXT FILE] shall
be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. --Martin Luther King Jr.
My weary eyes look to this day that Mr. King once referred to a long,
long time ago, for I too have a dream, like he. Some of you may laugh.
Some may scorn. Some may write typically sarcastic text files about the
hope that lives in the deepest cranny of my soul.
I do not care. I am not afraid anymore. I will be heard!
Peace is our destiny, my friends. We must gather with peace, and
part with peace. We must not recruit then reject, and subject ourselves to
watching the senseless desecration of our supposed bastard children. We
must not deny the responsibility for the mediocre text files that Mr.
Kobek speaks of with such distaste. We cannot disown the eggs we lay. We
must lie in the bed that we make. We must reap what we sow, and nourish the
fruit that we plant.
It pains me to know that my comrades reside on both sides of the
battle. A prominent feeling of melancholy consumption is eating away at my
heart and soul. I say to those of you who now stand proudly shouting your
senseless battle cries:
I am not a part of this war.
I will give my love to all of you.
I will bandage your bleeding wounds that you have given each other.
I will console you as your relationships deteriorate.
I will continue to read all of your text files, and I will continue
to write for both Hoe and Anada, despite the hostility in between and the
bitterness that is sure to come my way.
I will stand my ground, tall and straight as the five-foot-four
inches of my body.
And when it s all over, I will remain, unscarred and still willing to
give peace a chance.
Won t YOU give it a chance?
[*****]
"THIS IS WAR, POST 1000"
by Gloomchen
Oh ho ho ho.
So not only do those ELITISTS over at HOGS OF ENTROPY ELECTRONIC
MAGAZINE think that they are BETTER THAN US, but they MOCK US AS WELL! I AM
ANGERED! I AM APPALLED!
YES I REALLY AM!
Okay, so if you understand history, aNAda was birthed of the overhaul
of HOE e'zine, and the two factions have remained amiable... UNTIL NOW.
And so, I bring to you, HOE 1001-present, all comfortably summed up.
HOE 1001-1005: Roar! We are a TINY ELITE TEAM now! Look at our wonderful
writing and brilliant crap! We rule over all!
HOE 1006-1010: Look at Caitlin's file, we're already struggling! Help!
HOE 1011-1020: A file by Altrocks? Please don't laugh at us! We must
capitalize on kitsch! ANARCHY! WHOOOO! It's all been done
before, but we're doing it better, don't you get it?
HOE 1021-1025: We had to get Aster back, or there would be nothing worth
reading.
HOE 1026-1030: I feel bad for this release. I can't even mock it, it's so
bad.
HOE 1031-1035: OH HO HO! SEXCHART IS FUNNY! And look! A part two to a
popular file from a long time ago when HOE was still cool!
Maybe now people will send us some real submissions!
HOE 1036-1040: Unrelated is still on staff. Does anything else have to be
said?
HOE 1041-1045: I find this release to be filled with charming anecdotes,
amusing characterization, wondrous plot, and a poignancy
matched only by masters of the parodous styles of Voltaire
and Swift. OH, WAIT A SECOND. UM, NO. WHAT THE FUCK WAS
HOE THINKING?
HOE 1046-1050: I was in Big Bad, so it couldn't be that bad.
HOE 1051-1060: Hmmm. LatinMan? ninr0x? TO WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THIS WORLD
COMING?
HOE 1061-1065: Oooh. GOTH. My, aren't we creative today? Although I have
to admit I found the Krnl article entertaining. Oops, I mean
I HATED IT ALL.
HOE 1066-1070: Look, mom! Angst! A file about HOW TO BE ELITE! Did HOE go
into a time warp, like, back to HOE #5?
HOE 1071-1075: To quote Shel Silverstein, "Almost perfect... but not quite."
Try again, HOES! YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR OUR SUPREME POWER!
Uh, sure. Whatever. Can I stop warring now?
[*****]
"The Textiad"
by Oregano
And there on the field, the champion of the kingdom of Hoe, Aids, lay
dead. A spear thrown by a female warrior having cleaved his skull and his
over-developed brain did spill out and wet the dusty ground. The Mighty
Mogel did wail and cry over the vanquishment of his best soldier.
And there, not far away, the champion of the kingdom of Anada did lay
dead. oregano, who had been silent for so many months, only to pick up his
sword when most needed. An arrow pierced his heart and oregano would stir
no more. Phairgirl, from up high did unlease her anger and promise great
wrath against the kingdom of Hoe for taking her finest after finally he took
pen in hand after so much silence.
Yea, I tell the end, where you want the beginning. I will start
again, and tell you how the events came about.
Mogel was restless. Mogel wanted change. Mogel had created Hoe from
the dust and now he wanted to recreate it again in a different form. Mogel
thundered and cried and shook Hoe with his mighty strength and all the good
writers fell out. Then Mogel did cast out Phairgirl saying that her careful
ways of quality control were too slow for such a grand creation as Hoe.
Phairgirl did call the bluff of the mighty Mogel and did create her
own kingdom from the dust, and it too was strong, strong enough to make the
Mighty Mogel and his best warrior, Aids, worry it may someday be the ruler
of the continent. Phairgirl ruled a land of peace, a kingdom called Anada.
Perhaps too peaceful, for some of the warriors got lazy and would not work
with their pens.
Mogel thundered again and cast out oregano, who promptly sought
refuge in the kingdom of Anada. But oregano was battered from so many years
defending the kingdom of Hoe and he could no longer hold a mighty pen, and
so when the ships of Anada saw war and sailed to the field of battle,
oregano could only lay by the ships while his fellows wrote the text which
was the great battle.
We skip here some grand tales of bravery and heroism, on both sides,
for both Anada and Hoe had powerful staffs. Both sides took their best
shots and many lay wounded or fallen in the dust. Aids came out to the
field of battle and many of Anada fell, but still oregano did not stir, he
lay while the best of Anada fought valiantly. A pen in his hands was like a
poker taken directly from a fire. Even when a proud Robin landed on his
shoulder, sent from Olympus on high, and reminded him of past glory and his
great prowess with the pen and the sword, even then oregano did not stir and
would only self-loathe himself.
Yea did the battle rage on and the soldiers of Anada were taking a
beating. And upon this beating did Aids make a grand proclamation. He
spoke not just to his own warriors, but to these of Anada and he did say
that he personally would see that the corpses of every soldier of Anada
would rot in the sun, and their blood would soak in the the dust and Anada
would no longer be remembered and all the Anada staff would be smited and
not written in the book of life.
And with these words ringing in his ears, with his head echoing with
the challenge, did oregano stand up off the dusty ground and did pick up his
mighty pen and sword and did wield it and did step onto the field of battle
where he did much injury and harm to the side of Hoe. He stood to once
again rase the banner of Anada as being not just the finest in the land, but
truly the only in the land.
And there were many days of intense fighting and now we come back to
where my tale started. After the dust settled from the bravely fought
battle we find Aids dead upon the field of battle with his brains scattered,
and oregano lay fallen too, with his blood among the dust, his heart pierced
with a single arrow.
And mighty Mogel did order his troops off the field of battle. And
Phairgirl did order her ships again to take to the sea for the odyssey of
returning back to the kingdom of Anada, to have her forces ready to gather
for another day.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Lost"
by Kristen F
I sit and stare into the emptiness
Places to go people to see
I am lost an a dream world that only hides reality
Drifting further away eachday
Into blankets of hopelessness and fear.
Blank stares only greet me as I enter alone
Distant echos start to become clear.
People and places begin to seem formular
How do I know everthing that I see
Will only come to haunt after me
No matter how hard I try to excape the lost images
I see how everything is different and fake
Images hiding for only the blind to see
People are stuck in a world that hides reality
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"I just don't get it"
by Nana
I just got my first computer for Christmas so I'm a newcomer to the
whole computer and internet scene. In recent weeks I've spent a lot of time
on this computer, teaching myself many things and generally catching up with
the rest of the world. Since I'm most often online in the middle of the
night, I've lately come across something I knew nothing about and find
extremely puzzling. Cybersex.
Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but I can't understand the attraction.
I like my sex real, not make-believe. I just don't get it.
I've made lots of new friends online, I've shared my problems with
these faceless strangers. I've found it's much easier to discuss things
with people I don't have to face in the morning and a lot cheaper than
therapy. I've flirted and been flirted with, which has boosted my ego and
made me smile, but cybersex? No thanks!
I've attempted it a time or two, but instead of feeling sexy, I just
feel bored and awkward. I mostly end up feeling its just been a big waste
of time.
Perhaps part of the problem is that in my busy life, I'm usually
doing several other things at the same time while I'm online talking. While
you're talking about nibbling my neck, I'm folding towels and yelling at my
kids for the seventh time to shut up and go to sleep. As you move on to
caressing my breasts, I've moved on to paying bills and balancing my
checkbook. By the time you're kissing my thighs, I'm digging in the bottom
of my purse for the kids lunch money. You obviously haven't caught my full
attention or even close.
So if I'm looking for sex, don't look for me online. I'll be sitting
at my neighborhood bar. I may not get lucky, but at least I'll get drunk.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"InCyDe ThE MiNd Of A tEeNaGe ZoMbIe"
by FormerlyKNownAsSexyPickle
This is the question I pose to you today... Why do people,
"Domesticated Primates" if you will, seem to follow the "Herd Mentality"
(doing things just because everyone else does)? I come from a small town,
(Lily, AphexTwin23, you guys know what I'm talking about) everyone seems to
be the exact same as everyone else. They all dress the same, they all have
bleach blond hair, and they all even smell the same. At any given day,
walking through the halls of school, you could see a hundred people, all
with bleach blond hair, wearing kakis and a plaid shirt. WHERE THE FUCK IS
THE ORIGINALITY IN THAT!!!!???? Are these people THAT fucking insecure
about themselves that they HAVE to be just like everyone else??? (Sorry if
i'm boring you, but today is a bad day and I just feel like bitching.) If
you have ben offended today, I apologize, but I just felt the need to speak
my mind on this topic. Thank you for your time.........The "Munky"
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
SUPER SECRET: ANADA'S MAILING-LIST-ONLY 'ZINE
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jason on Love
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Jason
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #1
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Love. I can't think of a word with a more slippery definition
(except "tax break", but that's a phrase). It means widely different things
to different people, and although it usually ends up with us getting
screwed, we all want it.
So what is love exactly? From a clinical point of view, it all goes
down to ensuring our survival as a species. Love holds us together through
thick and thin. It keeps mothers from strangling their screaming babies.
It exhorts us males to go out a risk our lives to defend our families. Yep,
it's almost as much a unifying factor as hate and fear, but I'll save that
for a later date.
Then there's how the different sexes view love in the non-platonic,
non-familial sense. Women seem to typically want one guy and put a lot more
emotional importance to sex. Why? 'Cause back in the old days, a pregnant
woman or one with a newborn needed a guy to bring home the bacon or mammoth
or whatever. Have you ever seen a woman who was eight months pregnant take
down a water buffalo? Didn't think so. Hey, it's as good a rationale as
any...
Then there are men. We want love, I suppose, but we don't attach
that much importance to sex. I think that we seem to attach more to groups,
since in a primitive tribal society, we really wouldn't have known which
offspring were ours or which women were pregnant with our kids, so we would
have had to provide for them all. Our job is just to spread our genes among
as many women as we can, since we never know when we're saber-tooth tiger
food. After all, biologically speaking, men are pretty much expendable.
Women are the bottleneck in baby production, and needed to be protected. If
you live in a society that has lost 90% of its men, you'll probably be OK.
You lose 90% of your women, you're dead. Of course, with modern population
and reductions in infant mortality, women are much less vital than they used
to be. SO, if women want to go to war and halve my chances of being
drafted, that's O-the-hell-K with me.
Let's get back to me here. As I mentioned in an earlier entry, I
have too many conflicting ideals, and love is certainly one of those areas
where I'm screwed. Sure, I WANT the classic, poetic version of idealistic,
perfect love, but I KNOW that it's bullshit, that it doesn't exist. Sure, I
WANT to believe that there's someone special out there just for me, but
that's even worse-smelling bullshit. All I have to do is look around and
see how bad an average relationship can be. Just by looking around at my
friends, seeing how many times they fall in "love," praising the qualities
of virtues of their S.O. only to have the whole thing fall apart and then
claim that they were never in love is proof enough for me that the poets are
full of it. As my then-girlfriend-turned-evil-back-stabbing-'ho taught me,
I'm not immune to that kind of thing (but at least I still admit that I
really DID love her). I also realized that sure, I got screwed pretty hard,
but it could have been much, much worse. All I have to do is look at other
people's crappy relationships to see that.
So where does that leave me? Part of me wants to go get a chick,
bang her until her ears bleed, and forget about her. The problem with that
its, I probably won't be able to forget about her, because my schlong and my
heart connected. Another part of me wants to go get a chick, fall in love,
get married, have kids, and live happily ever after. The problem with THAT
is that it could end up getting screwed even worse and it will take a long
time to pull together. And then ANOTHER part of me just wants to dress up
in a clown suit, get a high-power rifle, climb to the top of a tower, and
KILL EVERYBODY! KILL! KILL! KILL!! Whoa, where did THAT come from?
In light of the fact that I have no idea what I want, I have
resolutely decided to mind my own business and avoid any entanglements.
Of course, with a well-turned piece of tail and a wink, my resolution
will stand as much chance as a sandcastle against a steamroller.
Tune in next time for more earth-shaking revelations.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Perfect Stranger
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by AphexTwin23
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #2
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serious
charming
gorgeous
intelligent
understanding
amusing
clever
respectful
witty
reassuring
poetic
honest
patient
friendly
trusting
attractive
cautious
sweet
bold
loyal
out-going
wonderful
entertaining
generous
supportive
caring
considerate
loving
independent
open-minded
responsible
creative
calm
imaginative
thoughtful
humorous
arrogant
interesting
listening
talkative
fascinating
sharing
artistic
admiring
happy
mildly sarcastic
different
spontaneous
fun
an individual
WHY CANT I HAVE YOU!
(Because no one is perfect)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dear Editor
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Effy
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #3
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summer,
god this sucks a big five gallon bucket of ass fat. I just tried to
mail you and I lost the whole damn thing to some "referer error" or some
fucking shit like that. all I wanted to do was write this email, ONCE.
just ONCE. not TWICE. and thus, the second email is not going to have the
literary value of the first, and it will seem more rushed and hastily put
together, therefore your general taste for reading this email will be
soured.
ah well, fuck it. I'm feeling a tad bit loony today. It's probably
because I just went shopping for toilet paper at walgreens. did you know
that it costs like three dollars for four of the "SOFTEST EVER" scott rolls?
WHY DON'T YOU JUST WIPE YOUR ASS WITH GOOSE FEATHERS, YOU FUCKING ARROGANT
RICH PRICKS? but _I_ got six cheap ones
for like $1.69. I could probably
run that shit through my printer though. oh well, I don't have hem...
hem... however you spell it. you know, those butt nuggets that old men get.
I bought conditioner, cotton balls, and cotton swabs at walgreens
too. It was a total hygenic field day for me! I spent the remaining six
dollars to my name on these toiletries. So now I can wash my face and put
astringent on the little cotton balls and clean my face, and now I'll be
able to comb my hair, and have my daily eargasm! and I'll lose weight
because I can't afford to eat! god damn. I'm going to be looking good in
about a week or so. I look like a pale pile of crap sprouting a long, black
and brown bush right now.
why do I keep referring to asses and crap? I know that everything in
life turns to shit. but that's supposed to be a metaphor. YEAH FUCKING
RIGHT! poop is EVERYWHERE! hehehe!
anjee says it's spelled HEMMORHOID. when pronounced literally, that
doesn't sound right! oh well. you know what I mean. you're not stupid!
you know what a hemmorhoid is!
speaking of YOU (you're summer, you're not a hemmorhoid), oh yeah!
I almost forgot about the POINT of this little email. the POINT was that
YES, I WILL write for anada, even though it sounds like it rhymes with
CANADA!@#! TEE HEE HEE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO THINK WE'RE ALL A BUNCH OF SILLY
CANADIANS! what do you call a cop from canada? CANADIAN BACON! hehehehe!
god dammit I'm spitting all over myself! I had a pepperoni pizza this
weekend and found CANADIAN BACON on it! that was not what I wanted! so I
got a free pizza! oh yeah, back to the point. I WANT TO WRITE FOR ANADA.
ANADA. ANADA. A-N-A-D-A. I haven't the slightest memory of what it stands
for, but it sounds pretty damn cool to me! especially if it's ok that I
write about poop! asses are my thing, you know. MY thing. no bitch is
gonna try an' steal 'em from ME. hey, I'll be right back, I have to potty!
SUMMER I'M BACK AND OH GOD DAMMIT NEVERMIND I HAVE TO GO YOU DON'T
UNDERSTAND WELL I SUPPOSE I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED I USED THE NEW TOILET
PAPER DON'T EVER BUY THAT SHIT EITHER I DO HAVE OLD MAN BUTT NUGGETS OR THAT
SHIT IS WAY HARSH DUDE I MAY AS WELL HAVE STUCK A FISTFUL OF RAZORBLADES UP
THERE AND SCRAPED MYSELF CLEAN OH GOD OH GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD I NEED SOME
LOTION CUZ NOW I'M PEELING!
(brb, getting some coffee)
OH GOD! OH MY FUCKING SLUT BAG LORD JESUS CHRIST! I THINK I'M
STARTING TO FEEL A LITTLE BETTER BECAUSE I'M BEING MORE GRAMMATICAL AND
STUFF! AND I CAN LAUGH! HEHE!@#!
well, at least I wipe after I go.
and after wiping, after going, I must now go.
much happiness, joy, friendliness, and ecstasy,
eFFy!!!
p.s. yes I would LUV to be a staff member! make me a happy little
page with happy little trees and fluffy, heavenly, happy clouds
so I can wipe my happy little ass with them and then I can sing
and dance and not strain my happy little butthole and then I
will be really happy! and use that really, really depressing
looking picture of me! wheeeeeeeeeeeehehehehehe!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Ferry
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by HST Hamsters
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #4
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It was 7:30 in the morning when Matt left his university. He didn't
feel like sitting through class that day. It was too hard for him to talk
to people. He could never shake the feeling that his friends were simply
humoring him whenever they said "hello". Matt's moods had been erratic all
semester long. Lately, he was morose around others and quietly ignored
them. He believed that by now, everyone had dismissed him as one of those
"one of those personalities you handle with care".
The sidewalk was not crowded as he made his way through the city.
The noise of morning traffic surrounded him. People in their cars passed
him by, on their way to their offices and voice mail and water cooler
chats. He walked to the waterfront where it was always peaceful. The sound
his footsteps made on the boardwalk soothed and delighted. He stared at
the cranes across the harbor toiling like they did every day. It looked
like a tv show you would watch when you're little.
Matt usually had coffee in the mornings, but it was too early. The
place he normally went to didn't open until 8:30. It was one of those
places you see in art films. It had dim lighting and trippy paintings on
the walls, and the people who worked there let you stay as long as you
want. It was filled with journal writers and sketch artists and paper back
novel readers. Once Matt sat at a table next to a girl and her boyfriend
who were talking about the first time they did heroin.
He entered the ferry terminal which seemed to sit on the edge of the
city, ready to fall off at any time. They sold coffee there and a had a
place to sit and mull about. He bought a small black coffee and was going
to sit down and find a paper to read. Instead he went over to the
turnstile paid his fare and sat next to the daily commuters making their
way to work. It was a silly thing to do once he thought about it. He had
no reason to go to the smaller city of Dartmouth, but he felt like he
needed to run away to somewhere and was determined to go as far as the
five bucks in his pocket could take him.
While waiting, Matt tried to figure out what he was doing. Every day
was a replica of the one before it. He was woken up too early, dropped off
at school where he tried to be productive but mostly wandered around
drinking coffee. In the afternoon he was picked up and driven home, which
was so far away from the city that he lived on a fucking dirt road.
He used to be able to talk to his family but now he couldn't.
He was unable to talk to anybody. He grew quiet and sullen. Every night
was an interrogation. His parents asked him regular questions at first.
Questions normal people ask each other.
"How was your day? What did you do? How was class?"
Matt couldn't answer them, it was too hard. He lied. He gave short
answers. He was abrupt. Their questions changed and became "Whats the
matter? Whats wrong? Why won't you talk to us?" He spent every night
watching TV. When his family went down to talk to him, he would leave and
go upstairs. He felt like he was in a cage and every one was poking him
with sticks. He started to go to bed early just so he wouldn't have to
talk to anybody.
Every conversation Matt had with his mom was a disaster that always
ended with her saying "Your acting like you're on drugs. Every night I
Can't sleep because I think you're on drugs." Even if he told her the
truth, he figured she never believe him.
The people waiting in the terminal got up from their seats. The ferry
was ready to leave. Matt walked down the ramp and boarded the ferry. He
chose a seat by the window and slowly sipped his coffee as the vessel
started its journey. The harbor was filled with fog and Matt could only
see a few feet in front of him before it faded in gray. He stared at the
water as it rolled in the wake of the boat's motion. The water was filled
with paper cups, plastic bags and other pieces of garbage. When Matt went
to Junior High, his friends told him the harbor was filled with used
condoms and dead hookers but it turned out to be another teenage myth
proven wrong.
He thought about drugs as the ferry gently rocked and the hum of its
engine filled the cabin. Drugs were something he thought about a lot. I He
quit using them 6 moths ago. When he used to do them, it was always a
non-issue, like broom-ball and Sunday shopping and bus fares. He wasn't
into junkie drugs and he was never all Cheech and Chong about it. He
didn't think they had a lot of impact. He would still be doing them if
things hadn't gotten so fucked up. It was probably because of school.
School bothered him in the past but he did his work. After a while he
began to resent it. School stopped seeming like a opportunity and a key to
the future and simply became a thing of drudgery done just to please his
parents.
He started to argue with people over foolish things. Commercials on
the television started to bother him. He stopped having real conversations
with his friends. Instead his friends became drug dispensers. He would
spend the weekend at his friend Ryan's apartment and smoke up, take acid
or shrooms. They would watch a movie and sit in silence. No one seem to
notice. He was sure they were all judging each other. He was positive they
were all judging him. Every time it was the same, theyd put in their
money, make a trip to the dealer and spend the night high, eating ice
cream sandwiches and watching clint eastwood shoot somebody. They were
all stoners any ways and didn't seem to notice the lack of conversation.
He missed it but could bring him self to talk to anybody. They never
stopped telling jokes, a lot of times they'd laugh. Matt wanted to make
every one laugh. He'd always act up just little but. He was as high as the
rest of them but he'd act a little dimmer, walk a little less steady and
talk a bit more incoherently. No one seemed to mind. They all got a kick
out of it.
"He's putting on a show" they'd say. Weeks went by and something
changed. He began to loose control of the show. Matt would cause a scene,
refuse to shut up. Things were said that shouldn't have been and stuff
would get knocked over. No one said too much as he left in the morning and
he was always invited to come out the following week. One weekend, things
went too far, and Matt got the drama he was looking for. The next morning
he woke up with a fat lip and bruised face. He
knew when he left his friends apartment that he couldn't come back.
The ferry rocked as it reached its destination and came to a stop.
The humming stopped and the passengers walk down the ramp and proceeded to
get on with their lives. There was a diner at the Terminal, it had a bunch
of food-court-like tables that remind him of all the times he ever
loitered at a mall. Matt got a second coffee and sat down. Men in business
suits were eating fried eggs. He felt fucked up. He had made everything
too fucked up. He got up from his table, his coffee half finished, and
went towards to turnstiles. He paid the fare and took the ferry back to
the city, so he could make his way to school. The fog was still in the
harbor. It hadn't lifted.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some Guy Wrote
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Paul Kendt
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #5
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From: Paul Kendt [pkendt@adelphia.net]
Sent: Sunday, July 09, 2000 5:55 PM
To: submissions@anada.net
Subject: aNAda submission
hello my name is paul, i'm a 19 male from buffalo ny. i wanted to go back to
school soon but i might go to jail. i get into a lot of trouble when i drink
and i'm pretty much an alcoholic.
the reason i am writng to u is because i am a dreamer too. i've only read
your intro in the archive but i feel like i can relate. i'm not religious
and believe the bible to be stories (mostly false). i don't believe in any
organized religion, i think they are all money making scams (espespially the
cathlic church). i'm sorry if i offended who ever reads this but fuck it i'm
speaking my mind. i tend to think more along the lines of like eastern
philosophy, like buddhism, but i don't really know.
i been havin weird feelings about the past like another life or some shit? i
am obsest with native american culture and like to read about many ancient
legends. i find many hindu texts interesting particularly the ones about
vimanas(flying crafts).
i don't know what to expect this to do but i would like a response and i
will send some more shit i wrote some of it while i was intoxicated. i don't
usually have much time to write though cuz work. But when i'm not working, i
like to dj 4 fun, go to raves and concerts, and drink and use drugs. thats
probobly y i'll be in jail every 1 i knows pushes weight around here and we
all just party and wild out.
i'm writitng this to get some response from people who aren't wasted 24/7.
most of my friends just think i'm tripped out when i start wondering about
microbial life and like sub atomic particals and when i compare the
microcosmic to the macrocosmic. sometimes i feel like we are the
microcosmic. maybe i am nuts? i'm sober right now too.
i don't know reply b4 the 19th please cuz thats my day in court
peace
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Dead Air for Radios
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo review by Shape
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #6
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Chroma Key - "Dead Air For Radios"
Shape's rating - 9/10
The Review-
This is a very dark, moody, ambient piece reminiscent of APSOG,
Brave, and Promised Land (so naturally, I love it!).
The album's first track "Colorblind" is an easy one to get into,
featuring the frequently used vocal distortions that Kevin Moore seems to
enjoy (they sound like the lines "This shade of gray" from APSOG III). The
lyrics are... well, suffice to say it isn't the lyrical highlight of "Dead
Air For Radios" but nonetheless, I like it. "I can almost read the writing
in the mirror..." is just a cool line, overall this is a good introduction
to the mood and theme of DAFR.
Rating- 10/10
The second track, "Even The Waves" was what prompted me to acquire
DAFR in the first place. A more mellow, introspective song, this one hits
me on all sorts of levels. Aside from the usual beautiful piano work
(subtle) and very, very cool lyrics, this has some softer moments that I
enjoy. This is lyrically one of my favorite tracks from DAFR, with lines
like "I'm not tired but I think I'll lay back anyway / I'm not welcome but I
think I'll stay / And even the waves won't carry me away".
Rating- 10/10
"Undertow" kicks off with a slightly too happy drum pattern... not
one of my favorite tracks here. But I do like the verses and such. It just
doesn't stand out really. "Tried to sing, but the damn thing kept on
ringing"... trust me, it sounds cooler than it reads =)
Rating- 6/10
One that I really enjoy, track 4 is entitled "America The Video". It
starts out with a dark almost industrial type beat/pattern thing... cool
effects here. In contrast, the singing and piano comes through... I love
the lyrics here, "You're never home but that's OK / It's so much easier that
way". One of my favorite of the "happy" (well, happier) songs from Dead
Air.
Rating- 8.5/10
Song 5 "S.O.S." (stands for "Sun Orange Small") starts out with one
of the most beautiful piano passages Moore has ever written. I absolutely
love this! It's a good song too, more simple and commercial than the rest
of the cd, but still very good. "Cry blackbird cry..." This is sort of...
happy, mellow... the emotional "high point" (happy/sad-wise) of DAFR.
Rating- 7/10
"Camera 4", song 6, isn't really a song... it's this one VERY
repetitious pattern repeated ENDLESSLY with some annoying quote under it.
Skip this one, it may cause a headache...
Rating- N/R (come on... it isn't really a song)
"On The Page" is one of the coolest songs on DAFR... it seems like
the sequel (both musically and lyrically) to "Space-Dye Vest" (Moore's
work). This has the coolest lyrics on the album IMO, as well as some of the
coolest, most SDV-reminiscent piano parts. Also, I love the sound exerpts
from Anastajah... "of course we were on acid, at a hilton at a science
fiction convention..." GREAT song, perhaps my favorite from the cd.
Rating- 10/10
Now we come to perhaps the most deranged song I've ever heard Moore
play on... "Mouse". An amazingly dark one starting with that unforgetable
answering machine message... "Now, now I know I'm not crazy... that fuckin'
mouse... the mouse- he's back again!" (it's fun to memorize and quote to
your friends. No really, it is...). This song is an easy 10, wonderfully
fucked up, dark, freaky... it's bizzare. I love it.
Rating- 10/10
The final track on DAFR is entitled "Hell Mary", and it consists of
really odd and spooky noises under a computer voice reading an actual
transcript of a "visionary" seeing the end of the world. Boring if you're
energetic, but late at night this can mess with your head. Personally I
love it, no greater way to end the forty some-odd minute Dead Air For
Radios... "oh... the sky is very, very red...". Fucked up!
Rating- 10/10 (for what it is, it's perfect...)
This concludes my review of Dead Air For Radios, I'd advise all of
you buy it NOW! =)
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Sunfoil
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Em
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #7
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down mindless daily
i walk hallways
glaring near) (or afar
from metal cold at me
a gook of the beautiful
(with her as on hand)
only drug induced
madness- fridays
otherwise a routine
jog into steady downfall
youth been depraved
i have my of.
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Day in the Life
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Jason
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o aNAda newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #8
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I hear a lot about Voyeur TV what with the success of MTV's the Real
World, Survivor burning up the airwaves, and Big Brother managing to stave
off early cancellation. Sure, people bitch a lot about it, calling
Americans a bunch of sickos for wanting to see these shows. If you've been
around the Internet at all, though, you'll see no shortage of people who
gleefully splash their entire lives onto the World Wide Web. No detail is
too minute, no event too inconsequential for their HTML diaries. I would
reckon that for every voyeur there's at least one exhibitionist wagging
his/her most intimate thoughts for the world to see.
Personally, they bore the hell out of me. Far be it from me to buck
a trend, though! You know me! Whichever way the crowd's going, by golly
I'm there, even going along with the contradictory parts! Therefore, due to
underwhelming demand, I have included my first ever minute-by minute account
of my day! Are you ready?
7:30 AM - Alarm clock goes off
7:34 AM - Slap alarm clock
7:55 AM - Crawl out of bed
7:56 AM - Brush teeth
7:58 AM - Put in Contacts
7:59 AM - Take a piss
8:00 AM - Shower
8:05 AM - Dress
8:08 AM - Feed Bearded Dragons
8:10 AM - Leave apartment and get into car and drive toward work
8:25 AM - Arrive at work
8:34 AM - Punch in (obviously some time lost to alien abduction)
8:36 AM - Arrive at desk and turn on computer
8:40 AM - Check E-mail and do preliminary routine stuff
8:45 AM - Complain to fellow coworker about the work I have to do, about how
it'll take forever to get done
9:30 AM - Begin working
9:42 AM - Play "6 Degrees to Kevin Bacon" with coworker
10:30 AM - Resume working
10:55 AM - Bang head off desk and moan
11:30 AM - Resume working
12:05 PM - Have a flashback to my days in Vietnam
12:35 PM - Take a piss
12:40 PM - Resume working
1:23 PM - Go to lunch
1:55 PM - Return from lunch and resume working
2:30 PM - Fantasize about Angie Everhart swimming in shaving cream
2:36 PM - Conjure images of Cindy Crawford with a million dollar check for
me
2:39 PM - Daydream of Letitia Casta cleaning my apartment
2:44 PM - Visualize Danny Divito in a bikini
2:45 PM - Vomit
2:50 PM - Resume working
3:05 PM - Screw around in the Internet
3:30 PM - Talk about last night's Simpsons
4:15 PM - Resume working
4:30 PM - Swear bitterly about the crappy work I have to do
4:45 PM - Stare blankly at the computer screen
5:30 PM - Punch out
5:31 PM - Complain that my work will never get done
5:45 PM - Begin working out in the downstairs gym
6:45 PM - Finish working out
7:00 PM - Arrive home
7:02 PM - Check mail
7:04 PM - Re-enter apartment
7:06 PM - Feed Bearded dragons and get bitten (little ingrates!)
7:10 PM - Check tarantulas
7:12 PM - Take out contacts
7:15 PM - Cook dinner
7:30 PM - Read Stuff Magazine while eating dinner
7:43 PM - Receive phone call, but it's a wrong number
?:?? PM - Don't remember
9:00 PM - Log on
9:02 PM - Begin looking for worthwhile Internet porn
10:00 PM - Give up and check E-mail
10:15 PM - Drool time
10:30 PM - Begin writing this thing
So there you have it! The entire uncensored Day of Jason! By golly,
I'll write one every single day. I'll continue to write them at this link,
erasing the previous one, so you'd better check every day! Don't be alarmed
if it doesn't seem to change much. I lead a stable life.
I feel so dirty.
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Slavery's Still Here
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Schoolboy
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oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
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oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #9
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No, it's not going to be something about a bossy girlfriend but about
the fact that there are more slaves in this world today than at any time in
Human history. Fact.
Every country in the world has outlawed slavery but, guess what,
there's more than ever. Like cocaine.
Why is there so much slavery? Because we lazy, fat, overpampered,
tight-fisted bastards won't pay what we should pay for coffee, bananas,
carpets, chocolate or even charcoal. That's why. We pay so little that, in
order to make a profit, producers feel they have to use slaves. No wages
equals profit. That's how much we have forced the price of this stuff down.
If we were actually willing to pay $2 for a bar of chocolate rather than 50
cents people could actually be paid to make it. You know, like we are paid
for picking strawberries around 300,000 children are forced to manufacture
carpets that we think have been made by a machine in some factory somewhere.
And don't be naive enough to think "slave" is too strong a word as
they do get fed. Yeah, just. But they get SOLD for, like, $20 each. They
are owned by producers. They... are... slaves! Not nice but true.
Are we going to do ANYTHING about it?
Probably not.
Thanks, people.
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My Friend Paul
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo Author Unknown
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oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #10
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It was the summer of 1980 when I first met Paul. I had been
searching for a place to live finding Manhattan difficult to settle into.
Having little money I considered finding the Leo house a real stroke of
luck.
Its sole purpose was to house visiting Catholic dignitaries who could
not afford the high NY rents. Hosting a variety of global travelers was not
enough to offset its ever increasing budget, so they also housed a
significant amount of retirees, who's income in there golden years proved to
little to meet all there needs. It was through these people that I put
together a place gone by in a time long gone. It was here that I took a
journey where life was as different as the people who made it up.
Paul was a 67 year old Irishman, who spent his whole life in
Manhattan. He was a rough old man who had a propensity to drink. He was of
average height but very frail. No doubt to the life style he lived and the
sicknesses that plagued him most of his life. He did his best to ignore the
afflictions of his age, but could never escape the memories of life in a
time of great turmoil and personal loss.
When Paul was 26, two years into, what he described, as a story book
marriage, he woke up one morning and found his young wife lying dead next to
him. He was in love, but now there was only pain. Pain he still felt some
40 years later. Being uneducated and having no room for doctors
explanations, he packed his bags and joined the 101st air born division. He
went to fight World War II.
It was another Friday night, but unusually hot. I had the beer
already and was waiting for Paul to come in. Our rooms were very small
consisting of a bed, two chairs and a small room with a toilet. They were
clean and there was never a security problem. It wasn't much but all I
would need to travel back in time. Paul walked in and the beers began to
flow. It wasn't long before I nestled back, let the beer runs its course,
and relived a part of history...
Boot camp was as much a hell for Paul then anything he'd ever known.
He was 28 years old, a good 5 to 10 years older then anyone in camp.
Training was very rigorous and Paul was no where near in shape to handle the
initial demands of training. The pain and anger manifested through the
memory of his dead wife provided the motivation he needed to continue, but
the demanding physical routine took its toll. On one particular day, during
another 5 mile run, Paul complained of chills and fatigue. His Drill
Sergeant, William Jameson, told him to get back in formation and he would
sweat out what ever is ailing him. About a mile later Paul collapsed and
wound up in the hospital barracks for 3 weeks. He had pneumonia and would
have died, but the army was using a new drug that saved his life. That drug
was penicillin.
Paul earned the respect of his company after that episode but still
struggled to get back in fighting shape. Many afternoons instead of lining
up for mess hall Paul would collapse into his bunk exhausted from a full day
of drills. It wasn't long before his nickname 'Pops' arrived. The younger
soldiers grew a special liking to Paul. They repeatedly woke him up before
lights out with coffee and sandwiches. It was here real friendships were
born and Paul began to fill his emptiness with an ironic sense of a father
figure.
"That God Dam bugle. I'm going to shove it up his ass one morning."
"Ahh come on Pops, rise and shine! Just another wonderful morning
here at camp Shangri-La!" said Private Levine. Turns out Lavine had become
closest to Paul. Being from Queens they were practically neighbors and had
a lot of common ground. They spent many evenings telling stories of growing
up in and around New York City. Lavine was a very handsome young man who
women loved, and he loved as many as he could. He looked just like Robert
Taylor with thick wavy black hair blue eyes strong cheekbones and a smooth
face. He was of medium height with a great physic. Bobby stood against one
thing and one thing only, gambling. He hated it. Thought it was the root
of all evil. Why was a mystery to all of us?
Then there was Private Eugene Jackson. Jackson was this big old
southerner from the hills of Tennessee. He wasn't very bright and not a
very good soldier. It's just that he was so tall and goofy constantly
complaining about his boots hurting his feet. The six weeks he spent in
camp was probably the most time he spent wearing shoes his whole life.
Definitely not a city boy, who had no idea of life outside his own county, a
real hillbilly. He was as strong as an ox and we liked him. He was loyal
and you could trust him, except to pass inspection.
Then there was Private Lawrence Hubble, the college boy from Boston.
He was average looking at best and a little on the quite side. Lawrence was
an observer who always had his face in a book. He was nice to have around
being none of us were very educated. Any time we had a question about the
war, politics or the geography of our possible destinations, Hubble always
had the answers. Boot camp was as much about bonding as it was training.
The four of us represented home where we would gather ever night and talk
about our day, our fears and our inevitable destination.
In every camp there always seems to be one guy who thinks he's the
best soldier. His name was Billy Reynolds and for some reason he didn't
like me. He and his own little entourage of followers made a hobby of
ridiculing me suggesting I was a week ling in the performance of the troops.
The boys were getting increasingly inpatient at Billy's continued harassment
and it was all I could do to keep them in check.
This all came to head one afternoon while I was sitting alone in
barracks. Billy walked in with his boys and kicked over my open footlocker
spilling out my belongings including some old letters from my wife. Well I
lit in to him like a man possessed. Trouble being I was alone and his
friends had no trouble intervening on his behalf. Billy was wailing on me
as his friends held my arms when Lavine, Jackson, and Hubble entered.
Needless to say it turned out to be quite a show. An arena formed through
the growing spectators and a real Donny-brook was under way.
There is no better feeling then having people rally to your defense.
I remember as I was dealing with Billy seeing these kids fight how proud I
felt. It was here where I realized how strong Jackson was. He was throwing
people around like garbage bags. He reminded me of a raging Bull snorting
smoke as he hammered away. It wasn't long before Jameson stepped in putting
an end to it immediately. Something about Sargent Jameson that caused you
to stop the minute you heard his voice. He was the most intimidating man I
have ever met and would never want to get on his shit list. We spent the
rest of the day repairing the barracks and half the night doing
calisthenics. Can't say we were the betters of the brawl, but Billy and his
boys never bothered us again.
We shipped out a week later on that long boat ride across. It was
pretty uneventful as we spent most of our time fighting boredom. Until one
day while playing cards we heard the siren for general quarters. Enemy
bandits were spotted and the ship was a scramble preparing for attack. We
ran topside that was our first mistake. As soon as the M-22s open up we new
we had to find cover. Our group scattered as Levine followed me to a hole
underneath the ship's big guns. Well when those guns opened fired we knew
we had made the mistake of our lives. The noise that those guns produce is
devastating. After the first round we looked at each other as if 'what can
we do'? We took our shirts off put them over our heads and hunkered down
the best we could. The noise and vibrations set off with every round was
earth shattering. The noise shook the very foundation of your mind, making
it feel like your brain was being unceremoniously removed from your body.
I looked over at Levine he had tears rolling down his face as he rolled
himself up into a tight fetal position. Mercifully we heard the siren to
stand down from General Quarters. We waited awhile to compose ourselves and
then slowly emerged from our den. of our after basic and ended up in
England, a place called Sherwood Forrest. Our ears didn't stop ringing for
sometime and it was awhile before you could sleep. We rarely left our bunks
the rest of the trip.
We arrived in England and were stationed at Sherwood forest. We
stayed there for about 2 weeks learning additional hand to hand combat
techniques designed to kill. I didn't realize there was so many ways to
kill a man. This course was optional, but I took what ever I could get
after the Billy Reynolds episode. The rest of the time was a waiting game
consisting of endless card games, which never included Lavine.
THE BATTLE
It was a small house, but that's what pubs consisted of here in jolly
old England. We were so tired of drinking this warm piss, as we called it.
There was no real liquor to be had. What we could find consisted of this
ne'er beer. It was very low on alcohol content and you had to drink a ton
of it to get the desired effect, which we did. We were going on our first
drop in two days. We had a 10-hour pass and were going to make the most of
it.
Inside the Pub there were a lot Limmies (British), Frogs (French) and
of course the 82nd. Our group had been there drinking most the night when
Jackson having way too much to drink, decided to go to the bathroom. Not
knowing where it was starting pissing in a corner. Well a British soldier
put an end to that by grabbing him by his collar and flinging him across our
table, still pissing. I have to admit we thought it was hysterical. I mean
Jackson was a big guy and to see him flying across the table still pissing
like that was, well, funny. No one else did. A British soldier murmured
"fuck Roosevelt". In hearing that Lavine stood up and said, "Well fuck the
Queen", and with that all hell broke loose. It wasn't long before the MP'S
showed up and we were back in camp standing before a very pissed off
Sergeant.
The following night we were airborne, on our way to a drop zone, 15
miles behind enemy lines. If it wasn't for this jump we'd probably be in
jail. I couldn't help smile as I looked over and saw Lavine sitting there
with his black eye. Our instructions were to move east and kill what ever
came our way. Its always tricky jumping at night but this one seemed to go
without a hitch. What I remember most about this jump was the silence.
After hearing that initial command of "GO, GO, GO" and my heart pounding a
mile a minute, there was only silence. Hundreds and hundreds of troops
floating down, in full battle gear, making little or no sound. The wind,
was all I heard. The wind, whistling through my helmet. The sky was filled
with racing cloud cover providing only an occasional glimpse of a full moon.
I should have been scared. I wasn't, at least for myself. I remember
thinking how beautiful it was, like a summers evening. I did think about
the boys. We hit, stripped are shoots and moved eastward. As we moved a
head I couldn't believe my ears when I heard "Hey Paul?" It was Lavine.
"Hey Bob!" I whispered, "You OK?"
"Peachy. All things considered I'd rather be in jail".
"Don't make me laugh. Keep your head down and don't be go dying on
me."
"You got it Pops. Don't want to disappoint the women!"
"Bastard!"
"Ha! See for a smoke when its all over."
We were moving up on a river when I heard the first rifle fires.
Suddenly flares were being set off across the river exposing a German camp
on the near side of the riverbanks that opened fire on us. To the left
there was a bridge heavily guarded with machine guns and small mortar fire.
As we charged up the slopes bullets began to fly everywhere. Smoke started
to cloud my vision. I remember constantly tripping over dead or wounded
GI's thinking 'Christ this isn't a game, I'm going to die'. It seemed like
we had the numbers though because we kept moving forward. When we were near
the crest, I remember thinking I still haven't fired my gun. Suddenly
German troops jumped over their bunkers and charged right into our advancing
lines. Chaos reigned as I struggled to my feet after being knocked down by
a blast to the left. I saw Billy Reynolds fighting this big bastard
bleeding badly from a knife stuck his left leg. I ran over and bayoneted
the German in the back and immediately turned and thrusted my rifle butt
into the throat of another. His bayonet grazed my side ripping a large hole
in my jacket. I turned, lowered my gun barrel and got off a shot right into
the chest of yet another charging soldier. Our momentum continued to push
us forward and it wasn't long before the center caved. We broke left and
raced towards the bridge. I looked around for Levine or any of the boys but
it was just too hectic.
It was still very dark but heavy arms fire made our path clear.
Jesus, people were falling all over the place. There were so many
explosions so much flying debris. A barrage of grenades had cleared the
machine gun nests and we rushed ahead before the position could be
refortified. We reached the bridge and began to cross when we ran into a
bunch of Germans racing from the other side. I clashed rifle barrels with
one and was thrown back against the wooden railing. Running into this guy
was like running into a brick wall. I had dropped my riffle on impact and
grabbed hold of his as I swung him around trying to get a better footing.
He knocked the gun clear punched me in the face and put his hands around my
throat. I was trying to break his grip but he was to god dam strong. He
bent my back over the railing when suddenly it collapsed and over the side
we went. The fall seemed to take forever. Once again I heard nothing but
the wind created by our own fall into darkness. His hands were still
tightly clenched around my throat as we fell. I was staring right into his
eyes thinking this was the face of death. When we hit the water I was on
top so the German broke my fall. In doing so he broke his neck and died
instantly. I swam to the nearest shore and collapsed behind some large
rocks. I had no strength, none. I covered my ears to try and block out
some of the noise and remained there until sunrise.
When daylight finally broke I could only see Allied troops guarding
the bridge. We had won and troops were being positioned to solidify the
bridge. I climbed up the steep embankment and began to look for my outfit.
It was mid morning before we started back. My head was leaning back
against the tarp, which covered the truck transporting us back to the
rendezvous point. I was cold, for my clothes were still damp and the
morning air was crisp. Still I sat motionless staring straight ahead
looking at everyone and seeing no one. I just killed 4 men with my own
hands, seeing their face and eyes as life left their bodies. At the time it
meant nothing being enraged by my own surroundings. Now as the trucked
bounced along I felt lost. I felt like a thief.
"You all right Pops?"
I slowly turned my head expecting to see Lavine. It was Jackson. I
didn't answer, and he did not repeat himself, looking tired himself.
Growing up in the Irish neighborhoods of upper Manhattan, fighting
was a way of life. God knows I had my share and God knows I lost most of
them. Nothing could have prepared me for what I went through that day. I
wanted to cry and let the tears clean my mud caked face but I couldn't. I
was so empty inside. So empty and so very very tired.
"Hey Brennan" yelled Sergeant Jameson
"Sir" I screamed, as I was startled to my feet.
"Are you going to get the hell off this truck? Or should I tell the
driver you haven't finished your little siesta."
"Sir, yes Sir." That man scared me.
Jameson was a big burly son of a bitch. I did not want to piss him
off. When we were transporting prisoners before coming back, he had ordered
a group of Germans to pile into the back of one of the pick up trucks. Well
this one German soldier took his time deciding he wanted to finish his
cigarette first. Jameson got a glimpse walked right up grabbed my rifle and
rammed the rifle butt right into his mouth. He fell like a ton of bricks
with most of his teeth lying beside him. Couple boys picked him up and
threw him right into the back of the truck. There was blood everywhere.
Then Jameson turned gave me back my rifle and walked away as the truck moved
on.
After stowing my gear I went right to the showers. Never knew how
good a shower could feel. The water massaged me like a thousand little
hands and for one brief moment life disappeared. The pain in my hands kept
it brief. My knuckles on both hands were black and blue, and the right
thumb was swollen and completely discolored. I could move it though and
that was enough not to see the medic. Afterwards it was straight to the
mess tent. Conversation was light and sporadic. In returning to the
barracks it was straight to the cots for most of us. There, it was total
silence. The empty cots that were full only 24 hours ago did all the
talking. No one ever said a word about our missing comrades. Whether he
was a good friend or just an acquaintance, no one ever said a word. It was
so strange as if he was never really there. Eventually the MP"S would come
and his gear would be removed only to be replaced by another's.
As I hit the cot I was so relieved to just rest. The day started to
become a memory, a bad dream. As I slowly started to drift away, I rolled
over, content to be alive. As my eyes closed, I looked down the barracks
and saw the empty cot of my closest friend, Private Jay Robert Lavine.
It was the screeching sound of car breaks that brought me back to my
room. It had cooled considerably. The wind picked up and the curtain
windows were blowing stiff into my room. Storm was coming. I looked at
Paul; he was lost in the music of an Ella Fitzgerald tape he was listening
to, obviously suffering from to much beer. I was thinking how Paul must of
felt when he saw Lavine's empty cot. He had lost so much and he truly liked
him. He referred to them as his kids. I starred at this bald aging man,
knowing he was still somewhere back in time. Was he with his wife? With
the boys maybe playing cards, or was he charging up another hill? It was
late and I put Paul to bed. As I was leaving his room he turned over in his
bed and mumbled "Thanks boys."
I spent many more nights with Paul, for my stay at the Leo House
lasted 2 years. We talked mostly about the war and the politics of the
time. He went on 13 jumps before he got it. Thirteen jumps! I relived
most of them. His last jump was a miss jump and Paul landed right in the
middle of advancing German lines. All he remembers was fighting, then
blackness. He was in a coma for 3 months. When he woke, he was on a
hospital ship heading home. His medical report stated he received a sharp
blow to the back of the head. No doubt from a German rifle butt. His
condition was poor. He developed a blood clot deep in his brain they
suspected could blow at anytime. They told him he would probably never see
35. He did however and died in 1992 at the age of 78. We stayed in touch
right up to his death.
There was so much I learned from my friend Paul. He was a walking
library filled with the trials and tribulations of a time gone by. A
pivotal time which affected the lives of all of us. Yet in his winter years
he was considered a social outcast. A forgotten hero. Pushed aside by a
society too much in a hurry to remember or care of the sacrifices of a
generation quickly disappearing into history books. To me he was a true
American hero.
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"A Pair of Cracked
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo Snowflakes Bleed
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Behind a Veil of
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o Crimson Butterflies"
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o by Alek
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o Anada Newsletter
society textfiles
#11
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small, smashed into countless fragments. when was the last time
you... nevermind, who cares. what are my favourite beverages? cherry coke,
spring water, and apple juice. but, then again, i always liked the taste of
your blood, as well. just like the tears of an angel. i want to rip your
wings off and bathe in your blood, angel. smashing myself into countless
fragments.
i remain here, motionless, fearing sawblades and being stabbed or
shot or anything, really. who cares. there's a freaks and geeks marathon on
this weekend. i'm fucking skipping work and getting a cheeseburger...
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"Phony"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Michael
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
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oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #12
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the thing is, i
ve always had this sort of loathing for that which i
could not. with that said, here is something that always seemed phony to me
and probably still does. and some are untitled just because.
michael
i wish you would have been devoted to me
like you are to fun
more so, i wish i could be a lot of fun
then you
d be anyway
truth about kissing
anonymity is to art
as affection is to love
people really want to be known
and they want to kiss as well
i want to be famous
not like madonna though
more like the madonna
i wanna be revered
my face appeared on a building
in a third world country
were i well known things would not be
as confused as they are
now my image is called jesus
we look nothing alike
five-million dollars
i don
t believe in god most of the time
sometimes i do though
if the devil offered to buy my soul
i would be devout
and i would never think to sell my soul
only a kidney
don
t mention anything to me anymore
then i will miss you
i
ll always think of the last words you spoke
even if they were few
happiness
if you are overweight
in the past i would have called you fat
i wouldn
t to your face
so please try not to be offended
try to lose some weight
if you can unless you are happy
that
s all that matters
truth about kissing II
to kiss you would be like suicide
only without dying
most ony try it for attention
that
s why i want to kiss
sometimes i want to be alone
without hurting anyone
s feelings
sometimes i want to hurt feelings
without having to be alone
i adored you everyday
not just on friday like robert smith
i assumed you feld the same
next time i
ll try only on friday
i wish we could share the same bed
so i could wake you early in the morning
and not tell you what i feel
at least you would be there for me not to tell
danzig says love is a flame; a devils thing
mtx says that love is dead
madonna say to dress me up in your love
i think i
d rather be naked
i wish i could tell you
to tell everyone we
re dead
without copying the promise ring
but they already said it
now only if you could feel it,
i would take full credit
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"Lily's"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Lily
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oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #13
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"Lily's Multiworlds"
I dont understand myself anymore. I seriously am a fucking insane
multipersonality loser. I swear to god I feel different every day. I don't
understand it at all, and it is like having a bunch of hidden lifes. I'm
not treated for multipersonlities or anything i just feel like a new person
everyday. Half the time I feel like im not really here. "so many different
faces, my personlity changes". Sometimes i'll feel like everything is
great and i live the most wonderfull life. When other times i feel like
i'm lost falling through the sky waiting for something to catch me, till I
hit the ground and reality sets in. The most irritating thing of all is I
realize that I am not the only one or thing experiencing this, because the
whole world has more than one personality, sort of like it has phases of its
own. I just want to say that im not on crack. Im dumb
"Lily's View on 'LOVE'"
I'm such a fucking baby... I realize this now, and it really makes me
sick. Maybe not sick at all but it makes me chuckle to myself. Some of the
things i've done just crack me up. The pure stupidity of someone like me.
Fuck! I deserve to be shot in the head. Ha! No seriously, little things
i've done just are so childish. "Aww, my boyfriend doesn't like me anymore,
I'm going to cut myself because i'm worthless if a guy doesn't like me."
Doesn't that make you laugh? Well suprisingly that seems to be the though
of many people as horrible as it is. "Oh he's my first love" That's all
BULLSHIT! I'm sick of this love thing! What is love other than a feeling?
Do you not have the same feeling when you "like" someone? It is a worthless
overused word that I havn't figured out yet. If anyone thinks they know
what it means than PLEASE tell me! But i don't want some bullshit answer
concerning god, because i've had enough of those. Fuck "Love"
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"Reading Into"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by X-tabai
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oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #14
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(Some things seem to burn into your memory until your brain is on
fire and you wish it would hurry up and explode.)
"You do realize that if you come with me to Europe, I'm going to be
acting like an idiot."
"What do you mean?"
"You know, I'm not going to be all behaved and stuff. I'm going to
do crazy shit."
"Really. Like what."
"I don't know, whatever. Just fun stuff."
"(Fun stuff?) Well, as long as you don't go making out with anybody
else, you can do what you want. I mean, nothing really dangerous I hope,
but I'm not your mother."
"I can't really guarantee anything. You don't exactly have a
monopoly on me, you know."
"(I what? What are you... oh.)"
"I mean, maybe it would be different."
"(Different? The grass is always greener...)"
"I wouldn't know unless I tried."
"What exactly are you saying here..."
"It's not like I don't look at other people. I mean, I'm a guy, it's
just something we all do."
"(Yes. But what does it matter? Why are you telling me this?)"
"You can't expect me to only think about you in that way. That's
unrealistic."
"(I know. But what does this mean?)"
"Forget it, I shouldn't even have brought it up."
"(Forget. It would be nice to. I tried to forget the lips that
touched mine before yours, the hands that held mine, the furtive "I love
you"s and the half-hearted flattery. Now I try to forget this.)"
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm trying to figure out what your point is."
"My point is... I guess I don't have a point."
"I don't understand. There are two things you could mean. One is
that you simply think about other people in a physical way. That is a thing
that guys tend to do, some girls as well. That's perfectly normal."
"Right. Okay."
"(The other thing could be that you want to make out with other
people. Is that what you're saying?)"
"What about the other thing?"
"Um, I don't remember. Is there something else?"
"No, I guess that's basically what I'm saying."
"(Ah gods. Am I reading into this too much? Was he planning to go
around banging European chicks before he found out I was going? No, that
can't be. He's not like that.)"
"What are you thinking?"
"(Does it really matter? I'd forgive him. A hundred times I'd
forgive him. If he boned every girl in Europe I'd forgive him.)"
"Hello? Are you sitting there reading into this?"
"I was just thinking that if you cheated on me with every girl in the
group, I'd forgive you."
"Man. That's bad."
"(I guess it is. Or don't you want me to forgive you?)"
"Hey Becky. You guys should probably get to class. See you at 4."
"Right. Bye."
"Bye."
(I am left with a feeling of... suspicion? Sadness? Perhaps I AM
reading too much into this. Then again, what if I'm not. The end?)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Public Notice"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Infernal
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #15
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As is the way of the self-obsessed wordsmith, I have dutifully
recorded for posterity every bump and bruise and scrape to my well-being,
like a pox-riddled growth chart covered with days that shall live in infamy.
I
ve jotted cutting screeds aimed just left of center of the hearts of my
enemies, and I
ve torn the night asunder (figuratively speaking, of
course
who wants to wake the neighbors?) with my wails of woe over
slights, stubbed toes, and windswept drafts of ennui that skulked in on the
first cold winds of autumn and shlooped through my mail slot, bent on my
ruin.
In short, I
ve bitched a lot. Cars honk, babies cry, hungry cats
meow, and I type.
So in the interest of fair play, I feel it only right that I jot a
quick note to myself, a state of the union address, when
for once
things
seem to be going remarkably okay. As I sit in sober, sleepy wonder in the
middle of the first night of the new year, I
m possessed of all my limbs and
faculties. I have a new kitten that
s rambunctious and adorable, I like my
job, there
s food in my pantry. I
ve made new friends this year, become
ravenously enamored of the best woman in the world (and hey, I think she
likes me too), started writing stuff I don
t routinely throw away upon
completion. My immediate family not only survived a near-disastrous brush
with destiny (in the form of a Level-4 tornado), but remains one of the most
laid-back, non-dysfunctional units I
ve encountered (not that that
s saying
a lot, but still). I
m still broke and slovenly, and I still don
t know
what I want to do when I grow up, but overall, things seem to be goin
my
way.
Don
t worry, I
m sure it
ll pass. I just wanted to let you know.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Bad Teenage Poetry"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by Aura Noir
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #16
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
with something sinister
The rockiest
Rocker who
Ever rocked
Is merely
A punk
His name is unknown
To all but a few
Later he destroys
Previous notions
By fucking the world
With something sinister
He will take your mind
And personal freedom
He will make your mind
His personal toy
With something sinister.
With something sinister
He calls all the shots
and makes all the rules
Because everyone loves him
The rockiest
Rocker who
Ever rocked
Is merely
A figment
A figurative fragment
A fucking faggot
Punk
With something sinister
Called intelligence.
* * * * *
"Gay Mask Pseudo-Haiku"
If you think Slipknot
s
lyrics are
so deep
Go fuck yourself
* * * * *
"Cold And Alone, I Make A Stand"
Am I?
No.
Well, maybe.
No, I
m not alone
I have these things that make me a whole person:
A brain
Two hands
Eyes
A heart
But does all this Wizard of Oz matter?
No.
Well, maybe.
No it doesn
t matter
I kill brain cells to punish you
When open wrists don
t do the job
And these words in my retina are forever burned:
Cold and alone, I make a stand.
Do I?
No.
Well, maybe.
No, I don
t make a stand
I am as normal as you:
With a brain
Two hands
Eyes
And a heart
Because lately I
ve been feeling
Like I don
t know what anything is
What anyone is
Who I am
But do I care?
No.
Well, maybe.
But not enough to make a stand
Against an invisible enemy
I fall, Alone as I stand
And I feel cold. . .
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"...The Dread"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by The Corpse
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #17
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"A Brief Explanation of the Amorphous Thing Known as The Dread"
There is a great
and quiet
unease
that settles over me
from time to time.
sometimes, faceless.
other times,
visible in the eyes of
passers-by,
the heat of an afternoon,
the swaying of
trees
in the wind.
it is,
as i have repeated
endlessly
to my comrades,
The Dread.
it will never cease
trying to
shake my hand and persuade
me to befriend it.
The Dread
knows me like no one else
does:
it swims in my cereal,
smirks in the smoke
of
my cigarettes,
chuckles in the voice
of my friends
and foes
alike.
we are both
in the middle of no-
man's land, fighting
for the remains of
the unknown, and
i think
The Dread is
winning.
its retreat is
imminent,
of course.
it
always retreats,
metamorphoses
into something else,
something as
insidious
as it feels is necessary.
I cannot lose this war.
The Dread
cannot
triumph.
Whether or not
it will
is
a different story.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"tripleD"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by HapyHzrd
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #18
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sleep and you're
Drowsily
Wishing upon what you've done for
Destinies
Slanted youth on canvas when
Destroying
Times will change
Derisively
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Fabricated Angst"
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by X-tabai
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #19
* * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Fabricated Angst
Another poem, plain package
smuggled through my fingers
under cover of loneliness.
Trite subject
paper cut love,
stinging with lemon memory,
salted by cynical prophecy.
Time wasted; words weathered
from storms of repetition. My life,
a tornado trashed trailer park.
But what was the instrument
a pen, paper, my own strained voice
pulling down imaginary walls.
Muse of tragedy lies broken
beneath a dirt bed of neglect. I think
she never really sang for me
I sang for myself.
not for mother
each little thing i cannot tell my mother
could fill a hefty notebook, i suppose
and every day i would create another
so to enumerate them is a bother
a waste of time, describing in cropped prose
each blasphemy i cannot tell my mother
but oh, perhaps it is a sin to smother
the breath of truth, such violent death throes
still every day i will but kill another
for death is simple. stealing life is tougher
when anger grips the past and holds it close
like everything i cannot tell my mother
why dig the future's grave? instead i hover
while innocence and action come to blows
see, every day they chip at one another
then in the end, we children must discover
that even parents lie, and each lie grows
on every day as one begets another
until i've nothing left to tell my mother
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"An Ode..."
oo o o oo ooo oo oo ooo oo oo ooo o oo by BMC
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Anada newsletter
oo o o ooo ooo ooo oo ooo o ooo ooo o society
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o textfiles
oo oo o ooo o o oo ooo oo o o ooo o #20
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"An Ode to Anada's Submission Guidelines"
Submissions must be 2k
Whyfor must it be this way?
In sooth, I can not say
I'll ask of that someday.
But why not 1 or 3?
Exceptions made for poetry?
That includes me, luckily
(a poet, for, is me)!
So I shall write 1,
and finish as I've just begun!
Why shan't I write none?
Because 'twould be no fun.
And so I bid adieu,
and give 1k from to you!
I figure that, at least, in lieu
of none or two
that one shall do.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Grabbinghands"
by Unlit
an experiment. this is theft and
silent awe. this is modern idols, this
is modern shrines.
the touch of night and the push of sea.
the moment of fear. this is birth.
here is one silent dove. we mention doves out
of softness, out of sadness,
out of strange opposition of words.
this is the word. this is the calling:
different. slow, permanent. change?
it is the blink
of an eye.
it is destruction. this is change.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Interrobang"
by Phelign
late at night the blank spaces on the wall which aren't filled with a
vanity or a superficiality make the room seem empty like you're leaving it
for the last time and you've already moved out - you're not there, and while
it is your room, it is not.
and lying on your bed at night you can't find a comfortable position,
because all of the good ones require another person. you punish yourself
and lie on your back. you can't move your hands or your arms because you
know none of it is real and there is no point in creating things - nobody is
there.
your feet still retain the sweat that they gained while in a non
reclined position. it will dissolve. you're not hungry there's no point in
eating because it'll just hit the lump in your throat.
for some reason you think you should sleep but when you really calm
down to analyze how you feel you're not tired - you just don't want to be
awake anymore.
you're angry and you're speaking in second person.
all the fantasies in the world won't keep you from waking up and not
remembering anything except that there's a bitch at your door telling you to
clean up something that isn't dirty.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Roadkill Worship"
submitted by Effy
The rKg are the followers of the life giving sustiance -- ROADKILL.
These people are the chosen of the Zxiqma (the devine spirits of the Road
kill). The followers of Zxiqma follow daily routines in honor of their
spirits, and to be blessed with greater spiritual wealth.
The Ritual
These words that follow are sacred, and are being entrusted in you
with the strictest of confidence. Please do not distribute these teachings
for fear of upsetting the almighty rKg's. Thank you for your cooperation
and enjoy these procedures.
First search for roadkill on your favorite dirt road (please note:
road must be dirt) once you have located a fine piece of roadkill suitable
for celebrating, follow these steps exactly (also note: you must follow the
following steps precisely for this procedure to work at maximum performance.
Failure to do so, may upset the spirits of the roadkill!):
Supplies needed to perform roadkill magic: a cantene of toilet water
ready to sprinkle lightly over the roadkill's body, a small knife or scythe,
a razor, red ribbon, and a curry comb.
Step 1: Get out of your car on the passenger's side and
circle around back and continue in a clockwise motion until
you are standing just to the left of the roadkill itself.
Step 2: Observe a moment of silence in honour of roadkill.
Step 3: Keeping toes approximately two inches from roadkill
itself, slowly bend over and pour the toilet water over body,
and then over the animal itself.
Step 4: Now is a crucial point. Point toes toward eachother
in a pigeon-toed fashion and in a circular motion, hop five
times around roadkill's body, chanting "wahwahwah!
ooyayooyay!" verse should repeat 20 times.
Step 5: Kneel before roadkill and pray to it.
Step 6: Bite off roadkill's left paw.
Step 7: Discard paw in pocket and procede to sing to
roadkill. Choose a song which suits the roadkill. Singing
in the sacred language of the roadkill will please the
spirits, but it is not required.
Step 8: While still singing, hop to your feet and dance
around roadkill free style.
Step 9: Fall to your knees once again before the roadkill.
Step 10: Bow toward the roadkill and say this pledge: "I
devote myself to thee roadkill, fully and forever. Until the
intestines are torn from my body by rabid lizards. I will
always be your faithful servant."
Step 11: Repeat pledge 35 times.
Step 12: Paint animal figures on roadkill.
Step 13: Remove roadkill from the road, and tie it around
your waist using red ribbon. Note: ribbon must be red.
Step 14: Do cartwheels around the blood stain on the road.
Step 15: Skin roadkill, brush the fur, and then shave the
hide.
Step 16: Cook roadkill.
Step 17: Eat roadkill, saving paws, most innards, and bones.
Step 18: Fling leftovers at passing vehicles.
Step 19: Sit crosslegged in the middle of the road and
worship roadkill's left paw, chanting: "oooooohmmmmm!
oooooohmmmmm!".
Step 20: Save left paw, hold it sacred and pray to it daily.
Please observe that these procedures are secret, and not intended for
unauthorized viewing. Please show your consideration for all roadkill gods
out there and keep this a secret. Thank you and enjoy your roadkill. Your
guide to roadkill has been made possible by the rKg society.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
THE FORBIDDEN FILES: JASON
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
o
. #1
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason on the 2000
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Presidential Election"
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
I wonder if I'm the only one to be a bit put off by the blinding
ineptitude of the presidential candidates this year. Let's look at the
candidates.
We'll start with the incumbent coat-tail rider, Mr. Roboto himself,
Al Gore. A lot of people hate Clinton, largely because of his extra-marital
alliances with a certain intern who would gladly speak up and volunteer her
name if she could keep Presidential dick out of her mouth for five seconds.
Compared to the indiscretions of past presidents, though, he's remarkably
well-behaved. Heck, it used to be in the job description that the President
had to be a ruthless philanderer, so Clinton's pretty average as far as that
goes. Most of the rest of his administration, with the exception of that
Universal Healthcare crap, wasn't worse than I would have expected from
anyone else. Sure he was a sleaze, but can't you attach that adjective to
ANY politician? The Gore camp is apparently afraid people will associate
their candidate with Clinton. They should be so lucky.
For his own part, I despised Gore long before he ran for President.
I based my displeasure on his knee-jerk alliance with the radical left
environmentalists groups (who, I've established, lie worse than oil
companies), and his subservience to his tight-assed censor-'em-all-and-let-
the-devil-sort-'em wife who probably tongue kissed for the first time ever
at the Democratic Convention! She probably gargled mouthwash for an hour
afterwards, too.
But that ain't all, folks! Time magazine has been kind enough to
keep track of the pledges made by each in a kind of mock pledge drive. At
last call, Gore had a whopping 80 pledges while Bush only had 51. More
pledges do not a good not a good candidate make. Some of Gores pledges
included doubling the number of families with savings over $50,000, to
reduce poverty rates below 10%, to create 10 million new high tech jobs, to
halve the pay gap between men and women, and to cut the crime rate for 10
years. Sounds good, as long as you don't ask that one little question: HOW?
Most of those actions are grossly unconstitutional for a President to
tackle, even if it WAS possible. HOW, for example, are you going to FORCE
families to save $50,000? HOW are you going to "create all those new high-
tech jobs?" HOW are you going to cut gender pay disparities? I suspect
that things like these are already projected to happen, and he'll just take
credit for them. At worst, he's a closet megalomaniac who thinks he's God.
That's MY job.
Then there's Bush. I can't shake the opinion that he's the genetic
cross of Dan Quayle and his daddy, Bush Sr. To Gore's credit, he at least
wants to use the budget "surplus" to trim down the debt, while old Bush is
set on some rather over-the-top tax cuts. I'm all for cutting taxes, but to
take it out of what I'm betting is a largely fictional surplus. Typical.
What REALLY bothers me, though, is how they're taking on each other's
causes. Gore has come out against partial-birth abortions, for example.
Isn't that a Republican religious nut issue? Bush has taken to pushing for
subsidized health care for old people. Gore and his religious zealot
running mate want to become moral police over the entertainment industry.
Bush has pledge to make education his main issue. Most ironically, Gore
wants increase the military's budget THREE TIMES as much as Bush does.
Who the hell are we supposed to vote for? They're practically the
same person! They're the same uninspiring brain-dead dolt! What happened
to the candidates with strong principles? What happened to the ones you
either loved or hated? Now it's whichever one is the least moderately
distasteful! If they dug up the corpses of Hitler and Stalin and ran THEM
as candidates, it would be a little more interesting!
I think I'll vote Libertarian again. That way, no matter what
happens, I can say, "Hey, I didn't vote for that dickhead."
o
. #2
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason Is Old"
i.* * * * * * * * * * * *
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
Sigh. The creaking in my joints is a little louder. My posture is
less straight. My skin is more wrinkly. My vision is less clear. My mind
is duller. My attitude is surlier. I am nearly overcome with the desire to
wear plaid pants and go on tirades against those young whippersnappers
running for President. Yes, it's another birthday for yours truly and about
16 and a half million other people.
Sure, on the face of it, it may seem like an honor to have the same
birthday as me. People always seem to get a kick out of knowing that they
share a birthday with somebody famous. The problem is, of course, is that I
will be exalted so thoroughly that my birthday will be regarded with the
same reverence as Christmas, if not more. When has anyone ever been happy
to have a birthday on Christmas? Granted, it probably won't be declared a
national holiday for a least a decade or two, since I need time to ingrain
myself into the mythology of the age.
I wonder how people will celebrate my birthday years from now.
They'll certainly get a day off in observance. Maybe they'll decorate their
homes with tarantula skins, sit down to an octopus dinner, and exchange
gifts under a poster of the Conan the Barbarian movie. Or maybe they'll get
tanked, watch some porn on Skinemax, and hold a night of chastity in my
honor. That would suck. Well, I guess it depends on the PR firm I hire as
to how fun my holiday turns out to be.
Yes, today was the day I was immaculately conceived (or that's how
the story will go, anyway) to foster parents more virtuous than any on the
planet who tragically died when I was, oh, let's say 18, leaving no record
of their existence. Naturally, my true parents will be paid well to keep
their mouths shut. After all, I don't want future generations venerating MY
mom and making prayers to HER. I'll be damned if I'm going to share my
pantheon with any hangers-on!
So what have I done with yet another year down in my pre-apotheosis
life? Pretty much nuthin'. I didn't score, although I DID get flashed.
I'm not rich yet, although I DID get a somewhat better paying job. I have a
bunch more tarantulas, though, and they're getting bigger all the time. All
in all, I guess I'm par for the course. At least I didn't catch lice or get
audited or go to jail or get a speeding ticket or get killed or get herpes
(fat chance of that).
SIGH.
So how old am I? Well, today is the first day of the year 27,
Jason's Era (J.E.).
I'm OLD.
And guess what I bought for a birthday feast? HEAD CHEESE! Its
ingredients read: Pork snouts, pork, water, pork hearts, salt, gelatin, etc.
Tastes kinda like Spam Jell-O.
o
. #3
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason on the Green
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Party, Part 1"
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
So as a result of the 2000 election, I turned my bullshit-piercing
gaze to the fringe parties' candidates this year, I call these the "Magic"
parties, since their platforms will need to defy all known laws of nature
and common sense to succeed. (If one of them actually wins, that'll be the
"Miracle" party.)
Before I start, let me remind you that Pat Buchanan is a Satan-
worshipping crackhead who sets puppies on fire. That's just to remind you
that I don't play favorites unless there's the chance that I might get sex
out of it (in other words, I haven't played favorites for over four years).
I recently found that one of my long-held beliefs was incorrect. I
believed quite firmly that all bullshit is brown. In truth, some of it is a
different color. Some of it is GREEN.
Yes, the Green Party is the latest organization to have instilled
profound annoyance in me. It's not their so-called environmental
initiatives that really bug me. That's pretty much a value call, and I can
respect that. What really kills me is how they bend over backwards
envisioning a future of peace and harmony through their 10 step process.
And encourage the psychosis of chronic wussiness, particularly among women
(but I'll get to that later).
The ten tenets to global harmony are: Ecological Wisdom, Grassroots
Democracy, Social Justice, Nonviolence, Community Economics,
Decentralization, Feminism, Respect for Diversity, Personal and Global
Responsibility, and Future Focus.
Sure, that all SOUNDS nice. Heck, if you take those points at face
value, I would consider someone who embodies all of those words a pretty
cool person. Sadly, I'm only 9 of 10. (I'm such SLIME!) When you look at
what the Greens actually MEAN by these statements though, the façade of a
bunch of cool people dissolves to reveal the grinning, skeletal face of
madness. Let's examine them, shall we?
The Grassroots Democracy part is pretty vanilla, whiny crap about the
fact that everyone should participate in politics and determine collectively
the path their community should take, implicity as long as they stay within
the Green's platform. Their stance on Social Justice is: "The Greens want
to replace the worldwide system of poverty and injustice with a world free
of all oppression based on class, gender, race citizenship, age, or sexual
orientation." Sure that sounds fine, but the reference to "class" is a dead
commie giveaway, plus I don't care for the implication that there is a
consciously instituted "system" of oppression, as if it wasn't the natural
order of things, which, I'm sorry to say, it is. The Non-violence part is
nothing you haven't heard a billion times before.
Now it starts getting really strange. Their stance on Community
Economics and Decentralization conjures the vision of the dissolution of any
area organization and the collapse of civilization into a bunch of city-
states. They want community control for politics and the economy, while
railing against the evils of globalization (Buchanan could have been a
Green!). Apparently, your local town is supposed to have full control over
job creation and sill somehow be able to find a job for everybody, perhaps
with the help of "public enterprises that distribute resources and control
to more people through democratic participation." How's THAT supposed to
work? Another commie giveaway: "A successful economic system will offer
meaningful work with dignity while paying a living wage which reflects the
real value of a person's work." That's nice. Who determines what a job is
worth again? It's democratically determined, you say? And people bitch
about Congress deciding what to pay itself! Meanwhile, the sewers backup
because cleaning them out is undignified and unmeaningful.
"What makes you so smart?" asks the blubbery broad with the krinkly
hair in the "I Munch Muff" T-shirt. "What makes you think you know more
about economics than I do?"
God, I have REALLY got to remember to lock the auditorium doors
before anybody can get in. These would go SO much smoother.
"Did you go to college...uh...miss?" I ask with labored patience.
"Of course!"
"What did you major in?"
"I'll have you know I got a four-point-oh in Daytime Television
Philosophy," she said haughtily, "and I have a Ph.D. in Bolivian lesbian
18th century poetry!"
What a surprise. Of course, Bolivia wasn't a country until 1835, but
I don't bring that up. "So since I'll assume that you're an expert in that
little microcosm of poetry, would you be offended if I went off ranting
about how I, a person who's never read a Bolivian lesbian poem in his life,
know more about it than you do?"
"Yes!" she shouts back. "You've never studied it! How can you talk
about it?"
"Gee, you're right," I concede. "But given that I've studied
political science, history, economics, and business, I think I'm a little
better qualified than your useless major ass to evaluate the utter stupidity
of the economic plans made up people with majors as lame as yours?"
"Well, uh..."
"Now sit your big butt down before I perform a tracheotomy on you
with plasticware, an believe me, I have NO medical training."
That shut her up.
The rest are nothing more but the typical swill you would expect from
a bunch of acid-dropping throwbacks... except the part about feminism. That
one drives me out of my mind. I've rambled on too long already, though.
Stay tuned for the rest of it!
o
. #4
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason on the
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Green Party, Part 2"
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
When we last saw our hero, he was riding triumphantly over the
shattered remains of the well-meaning but silly platform of the Green Party.
It's ironic that they put so much emphasis on understanding nature and
ecology but show little understanding of basic human behavior. Great
example: their solution to "global warming" (which, according to Time
magazine, will take 500 years to raise sea levels 6 feet even if the worst
case scenario is true) is to force car companies to make electric cars in
spite of the fact that no one will buy them. Sure, making laws to change
people behaviors ALWAYS works. Prohibition sure got rid of alcohol. The
DEA certainly has got drugs off our streets. Thanks to speed limit signs,
everyone travels at safe speeds. It's like trying to cut down a tree by
yanking at its leaves! That's a good quote, huh? You better not steal it!
So anyway, the thing that REALLY bothers me about the Green Party
platform, more than the commie sympathies, more than the pure unreasoning
stupidity of most of their points, was their take on feminism. I took the
liberty of looking the word up in the dictionary. Feminism, it says, is a
doctrine advocating social, political, and economic rights for women equal
to those of men. That's what I always thought it meant, and I'm perfectly
happy with it, since I've said that any system that judges people on
anything other than individual merit is stupid at best, harmful to all
humankind at worst.
The Greens disagree with both me and the dictionary over what
"feminism" means. Instead of stopping at gender equity, the insist on
complaining about the evils of a male-dominated world and insist on
replacing them with the "feminine" qualities of cooperation, community,
nonviolence, and impeccable holiness. Frankly I'm deeply offended by the
grossly sexist implications for BOTH genders. Not to confuse anybody with
facts, but to say that any qualities are "masculine" or "feminine" is
demonstrating slavery to outmoded ideas of the rigid roles of men and women
in society. God, I sound like a PC freak, but it's true!
Sure history is dominated by violent men, but if you'll be willing to
dip your head into the sea of reality with me I'll tell you why that is.
Yes, I know the beach is empty. Nobody ever comes here. The water's
cold... cold and hard... Anyway, the truth of the matter is that up until
the last couple of centuries, people were judged by how many heads they
could bust. If you could crack some other guy's head like a walnut, odds
are you'd get at least a paragraph in the history books. The relatively few
women to rise to historical prominence were likewise exceptionally talented
at cracking craniums, such as Queen Mary (Elizabeth's mom), Queen Elizabeth,
Margaret Thatcher, Joan of Arc, Bodicea... Ironically, I credit the advent
of firearms with the eventual acceptance of chicks as equals, since you
could kill somebody without being strong, and you had to be smart to batter
brains.
OK, so guys can be warlike and aggressive, that's for sure. They can
also be pacifists, too, though, dammit! Ghandi, as I recall, was a GUY! So
was Martin Luther King! So was that other big pacifist guy who inspired a
bunch of other pacifists who were fanatically nonviolent. What was his name
again? Oh yeah, JESUS! (NOTE: This is not a religious endorsement of any
kind, but a mere referral to public record.)
Guys cooperate, too! The best example I can come up with is war.
Guys risk their lives ostensibly to protect their homes and families and
also for each other. Victory depends on them working together under the
most dire of circumstances! They cooperate to build stuff and create stuff!
How can any crackhead say that cooperation is the sole domain of any gender?
According to Discover Magazine, high levels of testosterone make men
mellow and non-aggressive. Chew on that hippies.
Now let's talk about "feminine" qualities. Keep in mind that I don't
base my statements on idealism and delusion, but on 1st-hand observation. I
have been told by women that other women are excessively catty and
competitive. Many of my female acquaintances claim that they have NO female
friends because of that. That surprised me, but what do I know?
Fortunately, I don't rely on anecdotes. I have seen chicks getting
hypercompetitive fairly frequently, while we guys hang out and wonder what
the hell is up with our female colleagues. Sure men are competitive, but
there are easily just as many knives in the back with nailpolish on them as
without. I should know. I have a couple.
All that I've seen leads me to one conclusion: men and women are
identical in all but a few physical aspects (and thank God for those). What
truly annoys me about the Greens' and similar groups' definitions of what
"feminism" is and implicitly what a woman should be is that it perpetuates
the old stereotypes. It buttresses the old "Oh, I'm a dainty little girl
who's too little and weak to stand up for myself" mentality that drives me
out of my friggin' mind. As long as nutcases like these run around
convincing chicks that wussiness is some kind of feminine virtue, I'm never
going to score.
"But wait," slurs the drunken jock in the aisle, "I like those kind
of chicks! They're easy to screw!"
Yeah, well, the God of My Trousers, the mythical One-Eyed Albino
Pennsylvania Pants Python demands a higher grade of sacrifice. If faced
with an intellectually flaccid wussy-girl, the great manifestation of this
sacred serpent will flee from this realm. Where the snake goes, whither
goes his Avatar (ME). By golly, I DEMAND a chick who's intellectually
aggressive! I DEMAND an assertive chick! I DEMAND a chick I can stand toe-
to-toe with! I DEMAND a chick who gives good head! Oops, scratch that last
one. That's in the "Nice to have but I can live without it" section. I
WON'T tolerate less! If that means that I'll never score again, then I
guess I'm par for the course.
And these friggin' Greens want to take that one slim hope away from
me! GM Chrysler! As if it's not already hard enough to find a chick with a
shred of personality, AND one who's interested in a GUY with personality! I
can LIVE with the communism and political idiocy, but by GOD if they
brainwash chicks into thinking they're supposed to be a bunch of spineless
sissies, I will bitch-slap each and every one of those Green Party leaders
until they cry! It won't take long. Christ almighty. They'd have you
think that estrogen causes one's guts to dissolve. That's another thing the
Greens and the Religious Right have in common.
GASP! I had a thought! What if the Green Party is secretly run by a
conspiracy to reinstitute the rigid Victorian gender roles thing! How
clever! They SEEM all cool and hip to snag the kids, then they reprogram
them, and before you know it we're back to corsets and courtship and crap
like that!
Last night I dreamed I was in a car crash due to a sudden onset of
rain and a reckless guardrail that jumped right out in front of me. I was
OK, but I remember being upset that my airbag didn't go off. It was a bad
crash, though. The whole engine of my car flew out. I had a big scratch
across my back, though, and I wondered if I needed stitches. SO what's this
have to do with Greens? Nuthin'. I was making sure you were paying
attention.
To any person of the female persuasion who is reading this, it is
your moral DUTY to write to the Green party and inform them that you're not
a bunch of helpless little whiners! You have to tell them that you're just
as bloodthirsty as the rest of humanity, and that you'll be damned if you
let them roll back your hard-earned right to think for yourself!
Environmentalism is one thing, but to dictate to you what "feminism" means
is ludicrous! Then call me. My calendar is pretty open.
In my experience, women are a hell of a lot like regular people, and
to say otherwise is thoroughly imbecilic. It looks to those old historical
stereotypes about what men and women are supposed to be and tries to keep
them alive. I'd be plenty gleeful if those stereotypes died forever, but
numbnuts on both ends of the political spectrum seem determined to keep them
alive.
Well I blew my whole evening on this. Not only to the Greens annoy
me, but they destroy my Sunday night! Bastards!
o
. #5
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason Gives
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Thanks"
.*i
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So another Thanksgiving has come and gone. I dunno. The annual
ritual of engorging myself like a tick has gotten a little old. It was
reasonably fun the first 26 times, but it's gotten a little boring. I guess
I shouldn't complain. After all, the intestinal distention I received was a
result of free food. So, in the spirit of the holiday, perhaps I should
consider some of the things I am thankful for.
Yes, even I am thankful for SOMETHING.
For starters, I'm glad as hell I wasn't born female. Don't interpret
that as a knock against chicks, because it isn't. It's just that given the
choice of being taller and more muscular in exchange for giving up the
unique pleasure of spontaneously hemorrhaging every month until I'm old, I'd
take the former any day. I totally lucked out in the gender lottery. Heck,
I was only a flip of the coin away from having a high voice and a genetic
shoe fetish!
The other thing I'm really thankful for is that I was born in a 1st
world country. The odds against that are a bit more staggering. There was
only a 10% chance (roughly - do your own damn math) of me being born in
North America or Western Europe, and a less than 5% chance of me being born
in one of my three 1st tier countries (the U.S., Canada, and Australia).
That's not to say that I have anything against those in 2nd and 3rd World
countries, but all of the disease, starvation, and political instability I
can do without. So as it is, I've got about a 2-3% combined chance of
ending up in the preferred gender in the preferred nation.
Then come the murkier variables. I could have ended up the
illegitimate child of some trailer-trash crackhead hobag and a big lardy
scuz with permanent 5 o'clock shadow and a penchant for burning kittens.
Growing up in such an environment, it's unlikely that I would be quite as
stunningly cool. On the other hand, I'd probably be a lot more popular with
the chicks, if the proclivities of my current female acquaintances are any
indication of their inscrutable attraction to the most anti-social spawn of
the trailer farm. I'd probably have more tattoos, too.
As it is, my parents weren't too terrible. Heck, they let me off my
chain in the basement at least a half hour a week to run around in outside,
and most days they remembered to throw table scraps down the stairs for me
to eat. Heck, on my birthday they gave me a new dirty sheet every year.
On Christmas I would hear the caroling upstairs and became filled with
holiday cheer.
So what are the odds of me being blessed with a pair of reasonably
adequate parents? I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that it brings my
cumulative odds down to less than 1%. All in all, I guess I lucked out.
I've also managed to avoid birth defects, so that's another plus. My life
could have definitely been worse. I'm also thankful for Italian food,
tarantulas, the History Channel, my sight, South Park, my cavity-free teeth,
the fact that I survived cracking my skull when I was four, and hot chicks,
even if they DON'T talk to me.
Here is a short list of the things I'm NOT thankful for: Salmonella,
eggplant, the Swedes, skunks, communists, influenza, mosquitoes, arthritis,
the appendix, lead, fleas, hangnails, the Backstreet Boys, arsenic, mildew,
milk that turns to the Dark Side before its "Sell By" date, whiskey, busy
signals, Alzheimer's disease, sepsis, the Mafia, myopia, diarrhea, fire
ants, dogmatic idiots, farts, skuzzy creepy guys who get all the chicks,
politicians, fanatics, SUVs, rabies, AOL, country music, Jehovah's
witnesses, bologna, vaginosis, Charles Dickens, and the Qwerty keyboard.
Oh yeah, and brain hemorrhages.
That's about it for the preview of my new seven-volume encyclopedia
of things that I'm not thankful for. The movie will be coming out in a year
or two.
o
. #6
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason Revisits
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Abortion"
.*i
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*.*
Boy, time flies. The last time I wrote anything on the abortion
issue, I was younger, bright-eyed, idealistic, full of potential, and
endlessly popular with the chicks. At least, that's how I choose to
remember it. The only adjective of that last statement that would not be
disputed by my historians is "younger." In fact, I was a lad of only 24.
How time flies. In the intervening years I failed to score. SIGH.
Not much has changed on the abortion front, either. It's all still a
lot of political wrangling and head butting by people with bigger mouths
than brains. There's all of this stupid yammering about morality and rights
and legal hairsplitting. It's enough to make me intensely indifferent.
By golly, I think it already has.
So anyway, there are some facts that are not in dispute. Abortion IS
the ending of a potentially viable human life through artificial means.
Once the kid is born, it's called murder, but up to the second prior to
birth, it's OK. Seems like a tenuous and arbitrary distinction, that, I
suppose, can be troubling to many, particularly those of a small-minded
religious bent. Of course, then you have the other side commits the
cardinal sin of using legalese to try to pencil it into the Constitution as
some kind of "right". The real solution is SOOOOOO much simpler, but none
of these knuckleheads seem to get it. I'll get to that later, though.
So I was talking to one of my contemporaries some time ago and the
subject of abortion came up. He was definitely heavily influenced by
religion, and hence a Pro-Lifer. He was a friend and a coworker, so I
definitely tried to water down the subject. I couldn't help but try to
force his brain into uncharted territory. I got him to admit that a guy who
knocks up his chick and then bails commits the moral equivalent of abortion,
regardless of whether or not the chick keeps the kid. I think I made some
real progress with him.
"So what happens to an aborted baby's soul?" I asked my religious
friend.
"It goes straight to heaven," he answered, "because it's sinless."
And THAT, my dear Watson, is vulnerable exhaust port in the Death
Star of the religious opposition to abortion which an intellectual X-Wing
flyin' dude like myself can exploit. Aborted kids go straight to heaven.
Therefore, since no religion says that everyone gets to heaven when they
die, what service do you give the would-be aborted fetus by forcing it to be
born? All you're doing is kicking it out into a cruel and nasty world and
giving it the chance to LOSE its ticket to paradise! Egad! How is the kid
POSSIBLY better off by being born?? Following that logic, those religious
nuts should be in FAVOR of abortion, since it assures their kids a free one-
way trip to heaven! "Mommy, if you loved me, why didn't you get me aborted
so I could go to heaven?" Given the choice between ending up as a red mush
in a slop bucket while cavorting in the clouds and dying cancer-ridden in my
bed 50 years from now on my way to that Great Barbeque Below the Dirt, I'd
take the former. Obviously this only applies to the "one life time"
crackheads. The idealogically distinct but equally deluded reincarnation
crackheads would see it differently.
If God said to my pre-birth soul while it was hanging out in the Holy
Jacuzzi, "Jason, you need to make a decision. You can get aborted and come
right back here to heaven, or you can get born, suffer through asthma, crack
your head when you're four years old, get ruthlessly bullied by stupider
classmates, continually fail to score, generally suffer through all kinds of
aches and pains, and maybe end up in Hell when it's all over."
I blow a kiss to the bikini-clad angel chicks and say, "I'll see you
soon, ladies!"
With argumentative talent like that, I should have been a lawyer.
The only things stopping me from pursuing such a career are my unfortunate
possession of a conscience and the fact that I come up with these arguments
at the precise moment when it's too late to make a difference.
Then comes the inevitable argument, "Then how come it's illegal to
kill anybody outside the womb?" Well that's an easy one. I won't get into
my whole legal philosophy concerning it, but it all comes down to damage
being committed against society. Killing a productive adult who is
contributing to society is pretty darn damaging, while the elimination of
another mouth to feed can arguably be beneficial. Maybe someday I'll make a
graph demonstrating the relative societal worth of people as they age. I
reckon it peaks out at about 40 before gradually declining... Anyway, you
gotta draw the line somewhere, and birth as a good a line as any. Besides,
laws haven't stopped other crimes from being committed, now have they? Make
it illegal, and all you'll have in prison is a bunch of chicks who are
otherwise no threat to society, and then what slim hopes I have of scoring
will dry up completely.
It all comes down to this: Government should not, MUST not, try to
legislate morality. And yet, it does, and it fails every time, because
politicians are as short sighted and idiotic as their constituents. The law
should be based on hard logic, not emotion or temporary hysteria.
Unfortunately, logic always seems to be in short supply.
God, I can't wait until I'm dictator. Things are going to be
different around here...
o
. #7
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason on the Biology
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * of Donuts"
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Picture the following scene: a herd of donuts, about a dozen or so,
is rolling across the pristine prairie. It is a mixed group, as they
usually are. There are powdered, glazed, and the enigmatic holeless
jellies. A smaller herd of their round young are rolling up behind them.
It's a peaceful, tranquil setting suitable for framing above the mantle of
some pastel-obsessed old people.
The sedentary oasis is shattered by a rampaging group of office
workers. The donuts soft sugary skin is no defense against the blunt teeth
and week jaws of their predators. In a matter of moments, the entire herd
is gone, young and adults alike. It's a merciless scene played out on a
daily basis across the world. The predators may be cops, construction
workers, or lawyers, but the helpless victims are always the helpless
donuts. If not them, then they're slightly tougher cousin, the bagel.
The sight of the massacre got me thinking again. It's a good thing,
I thought, that donuts don't have teeth. Imagine the carnage that would
ensue if you were sitting down to enjoy a nice cinnamon donut when it spun
around in your hand, its razor-sharp fangs hungering for human flesh? What
about the jelly donut that you realize at the last moment is not filled with
jelly, but with the entrails of your beloved pet? What about the éclair
that lies in wait in your underwear drawer for you to feel the need to gird
your loins? It used to be that way.
It is well known today that the wild donut is pretty much extinct.
Sure there are some crackpots who claim that primordial pastries still roam
the remote hills of the American West and the Himalayas, but I don't buy
that crap. The last wild donut died in a Police Precinct in Sebewaing,
Michigan at about 70 B.J.E. Since then, it's been all domestic stock raised
mostly in the Midwest. Wild donuts were not particularly dangerous to
people, but when they traveled across the continent in large herds they
could cause people to trip or fatal obesity.
They were nothing compared to the prehistoric donuts of the Ice Age,
though. The saber-toothed donut, for example, was one of the most fearsome
baked goods to have ever walked the Earth. Many a caveman surely fell to
the ravenous, 8-foot in diameter beast. Almost as impressive were the great
Wooly Donuts. They strode across the prehistoric tundra with holes almost
large enough to drive a car through. Although archeologists debate whether
or not primitive peoples could have successfully hunted such a beast, it
would surely represent a feast that could feed them for days, if not weeks.
Most of these gigantic foods went extinct thousands of years ago,
leaving only the modern donut. Scientists aren't sure when they were first
domesticated, but by the 1800's they were well-established in America and
Europe. Although the domestic variety became plentiful and exploded into
dozens of different breeds, the wild donut was still hunted and eaten as a
delicacy, often eaten with a side of truffles and do-do eggs. Today, no one
will ever know what a wild donut tasted like, but that's OK. They weren't
even glazed for Chrissakes.
So the next time you eat a donut, try to remember that you're only
doing to them what they would do to you if they got the chance. Don't let
those PETA freaks and their "Save the Donuts" campaign sway you from your
God-given right to consume anything you damn well choose. Also keep in mind
that you too can become completely delusional without the need for LSD. It
just takes practice.
You know what else would suck? If you got shipwrecked alone on a
remote Pacific Island and the only things you had to eat were LEMONS! And
maybe bugs. I ate a lemon sliver today for the pure masochistic joy of it,
and let me just say that I would not enjoy being marooned on a lemon grove.
By they time they found me, my mouth would be puckered tighter than a 12
year-old virgin's honey pot.
o
. #8
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason on the Joy of
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Arachnids"
.*i
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People are so capricious. They're so darn arbitrary about the
animals they deem "cute" enough to have pets. There's a very thin line
between the animals that are seen as food and those that are seen as
companions. So thin is this line, that it wavers considerably from culture
to culture. Consider the Hindu cow, and then consider the East Asian meat
markets with cat and dog carcasses strung up for purchase. None of it, of
course, is based in any way on logic or common sense.
Take the dog, for example. The domestic dog is a direct descendant
of the wolf, a creature feared and reviled for centuries. Yet, you take out
its hunter instinct and a few brain cells and it's practically a member of
the family. A hairy, parasite-ridden member of the family that happens to
be prone to rabies. A smelly, allergy-irritating, noisy, crotch-sniffing
member of the family that will eat you out of house and home and stands no
chance of ever being a productive member of the family. Come to think of
it, having a dog is not completely unlike having an alcoholic uncle come to
live with you. Furthermore, I PERSONALLY know at least three people who
were badly mauled by dogs, one of which was my cousin who was on the wrong
end of her beloved pet's brain tumor-induced rage. By badly, I mean that it
went for the throat with the intent to kill and resulted in at least a dozen
stitches. I know a lot more people who were "sort of" mauled by canine
madness. Dogs are not good pets at all.
Let's examine the other most popular pet: cats. They share most of
the hygienic problems of dogs, but lack sociability. On the bright side,
they're more portable and may someday just run away and never return. On
the down side, their crap REALLY smells in spite of their tendency to bury
it. It can also cause toxoplasmosis. Not a good thing to have. Plus, they
claw the furniture with more frequency than dogs and tend to bring dead
things into the house. Although they're usually too small to cause real
physical damage to a person, that doesn't stop them from trying. They also
suffer from close genetic association with large predators that made more
than one quick meal our foreparents.
After that, I suppose, come birds. Yes, 4.6 million homes in the
U.S. feel somehow incomplete without a cacophonous, disease-ridden, shit-
where-you-please avian at their heart. I've had a lot of pets in my day,
but it seems a little unfair to keep a wide-ranging animal such as a bird
stuck in a cage. Of course, this completely omits the rather fuzzy line
that divides food birds from pet birds.
Then come the rodents. RODENTS! These little pests are responsible
for the spread of more disease and the consumption of more grain that COULD
go into the mouths of starving humans than any other creature on the planet!
And yet people want to keep them as pets! Their only good point is the fact
that they don't live long, a feature that is also one of the few good points
of cats, since they often help the little vermin to that little burrow in
the sky. Rats, mice, gerbils, hamsters, rabbits... they're all the same
crap.
And people look at me like I'M nuts just because I have a few
arthropods! Arachnids don't smell! They can live for many months without
food! They don't bark or meow or squawk! They're often hairy, but they
only shed once every few months, and that's just one big piece of skin!
They don't ruin furniture! They carry no diseases that are communicable to
humans! Their poop is colorless and odorless! They can live for up to 20
years! They are universally a useful, beneficial creature, preying of pest
insects and small pest mammals! And finally, no one's ever been known to
have been hunted down and killed by a tarantula (except for the brief spate
of 40-foot mutants in the 50's, but that was the government's fault).
Although other spiders and some scorpions have been known to take an
occasional human life, they're responsible for far less deaths than any
other pet species I can think of. Well, ticks are a pain in the ass, but
they don't count. Nobody keeps THEM as pets out side of the backwoods of
West Virginia. "Yee-haw, Billy-Jean, I found me a new pet who just kinder
stuck on me and follered me home. I reckon he wants tuh be my friend."
It all comes down to this: all endotherms are noisy, hairy, disease-
carrying, smelly, raucous beasts who eat all the time and spread their
excrement everywhere. Why people would look at me like I'M a nutter just
because I've indulged my fascination for arthropods a little is beyond me.
Clearly, I'm being discriminated against on the basis of the irrational
societal fear of anything with 8 legs. I say that Arachnophobia should be
as non-PC a homophobia, xenophobia, and... uh... mega-androphobia (that
being the fear of tremendous trouser snakes, an affliction that has vexed me
mightily). If there's one good thing I can say for Europeans, at least
they're much more advanced in the acceptance of arachnids than Americans.
And for the record, lizards and amphibians come exactly in between
those icky endotherms and the impeccably perfect arachnids.
o
. #9
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason Goes
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Bald"
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
I've always believed that I would ward off most of the afflictions of
old age. I have vowed to keep a careful eye on my 32" waistline to ensure
that I never grow a gut. I have been exercising mightily to make myself
buff and to avoid those problems of middle-aged couch potatoes. I don't go
for those all-over body tans to keep my skin from rotting off my bones. I
try to avoid activities that may result in long-term problems, such a
cutting through my spine with a hacksaw. That would have been fun, too...
Over all, my body has rewarded me for me care. Sure, at 27, that's
not much of an accomplishment, but I am damn determined to hold that line.
I currently have no chronic injuries or disabilities. My blood pressure is
perfectly average and my cholesterol was 137 the last time I had it checked.
I'm 5-feet, 10-inches tall and weigh 170 pounds. God knows that I don't
have any STD's. Then there's my hair. My thick, semi-curly, sort-of-pain-
in-the-ass hair.
And that is the Achilles Heel. I have to come with the dark, cold
realization that I am slowly, surely going bald. There's no denying it.
Casual observers may not be able to tell, but I sure can. I never used to
be able to see my scalp at all. Now I can see little slivers of pink
through my dark blond locks.
It's not the notorious male pattern baldness, thank God. There's no
hole in the ozone layer on the north pole of my head. It's just slowly
receding like a glacier around the corners of my forehead. It could
definitely be worse. Many of my friends of my friends have been total
chrome domes for years... but many more are not. After all, I'm almost 30.
That's not a bad run. I had my hair throughout what should have been my
happy years. I'll probably progress like Tom Hanks. I can live with
that... I guess.
I've always been afraid of going bald, but I never thought it would
happen to me. After all, my dad isn't bald, although all of his brothers
are. My maternal grandfather also isn't bald at all, and he's, like, a
million years old. So much for that bullshit about it coming from the mom's
side.
What the hell difference does it make, anyway? It's not like I could
possibly score LESS!! I should be thankful! My hair has been a bane of my
existence since it changed from curly shining gold when I was young to a
thick, wavy dirty blond that did whatever the hell it wanted. It sucks, and
it's getting what it deserves for making my life difficult! Friggin' hair!
Now I can save money on combs, haircuts, hair gel... Yep. That'll be cool.
The few friends in whom I've confided this sad truth have responded
in completely unexpected ways. One of my female friends, a rather easy
chick who's screwed everybody but me, went into denial, saying that I was
fooling myself. Oooookay. I would expect that response to someone whose
head looked like a bowling ball, and they thought they still had a full head
of hair. In response to someone who says, "You know, I think I might be
finally going bald," it's a little weird. I never expected her to be in
denial about it. Then I confided in my 6'1", blond, muscle-bound, gets-all-
the-chicks, ex-marine-reservist. He was quite sympathetic. I was even more
stunned.
Christ, I thought I KNEW my friends! I had steeled myself for the
most evil of jeers, and what do I get? Denial and sympathy! Certainly,
such barbs would not be made out of malice, but we never pass up the chance
for some good-natured ribbing on each other. Maybe they feared harming my
ego at the loss of my beloved hair. I can hack it, though. The real
tragedy is that my head is too big to fit in most hats, and my brain might
freeze. Chicks certainly won't tell the difference.
My hair... my luxurious hair...
o
. #10
.* .* * * * . .* * *. .* * ...THE FORBIDDEN FILES...
.* i i i i i i i i i
.* i .*. . . . .* .*. . i i . "Jason Realizes that People
i.* * * * * * * * * * * * Aren't So Bad"
.*i
| i *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
*.*
I realized something. I read a lot of stuff about how people are
basically nasty and selfish, and generally suck. Hell, I WROTE most of that
stuff. On the surface of it, it seems that I have something in common with
all of those nature freaks, religion freaks, and any other freak who feels
the need to project his/her self-loathing issue on everybody else. Some may
think that I actually would be able to empathize with those who believe that
humankind is some kind of particularly awful blight on this planet. HA!
Humankind may be a blight, but it's just one of millions of blights
on the planet, a result of that one big blight, life. For all of the
nature-loving numbnuts out there, they sure hate it when people act like
everything else in nature: completely self-centered. Let's face it, kids.
We are what nature made us. Nasty, brutish nature made us determined to
ensure our own survival and to be as comfortable as possible in the process.
Just like so many other creatures, we alter the environment to suit our
needs. Examples: beavers, termites, and many different kinds of parasites
(courtesy of Discover magazine). Also, just like all other animals, when
the natural predators that keep us in check, whether megafauna or
microscopic, become ineffective, we run the risk of destroying our
environment. Koala bears do it. Deer do it. Any animal will do it. Why
can't we? Seems like a rather arbitrary double standard.
Of course, as far as animals go, we're pretty unique. We're the only
creature on Earth that can say, "Uh oh, we might destroy ourselves through
our success. We'd better be careful." I was thinking that we're also the
only animals capable of anything like revenge. A non-human animal won't
plot to avenge a slight by another animal. On the other hand, we're the
only organism capable of mercy. When was the last time you saw an animal
spontaneously care for the young of another species? Let me think... pretty
much NEVER. Sure, people have their sucky points, but they also have their
good points. All in all, it averages out. But that's all trifles.
The REAL point of this essay is to send a bitch slap to all of those
genuine human-hating psychos. I'm not talking about those casual
misanthropes like myself who don't like people but harbor no special
distaste for Homo sapiens. No, I'm talking about those people who wail
about how shamed they are to be humans and yet can't find the will to do the
world a favor and kill themselves. These are usually PETA types, but also
radical religious nuts and their cranially deficient ilk.
It all comes down to this: we are the Earth's only chance for
survival. It may take billions of years, but someday the sun will either
balloon like my ex-girlfriend-turned-evil-backstabbing-ho and turn the
planet into a cinder, or turn cold and dark like my tortured heart
transforming the planet into a snowball. Either way, everything this planet
has wrought, all of the crawling, bleating, madly-fucking life that those
nature nuts claim to love, will be killed more thoroughly than we could ever
do. After all of the meteor strikes, climate change, continental drift, and
solar flares, the struggle will finally end in either fire or ice.
What's the indigenous life of Earth to do? Will spotted owls be able
to fly away? Will dolphins, with all of their purported intelligence, be
able to escape that fate? Will Julia Butterfly's fucking tree be able to
pull through? Only WE have even the tiniest potential of making it off this
rock and saving at least a portion of life on Earth. Sure, many people
doubt that interstellar travel is possible, but even if we can take bacteria
and shoot them out into space in capsules, we've done our job. At least we
gave life a chance. Smoke that you Gaia-worshipping, progress-fearing
freaks.
Then you've got those brain dead nuts who insist that we don't have
the "right" to develop worlds that are otherwise lifeless. God, some people
just have issues with making something out of nothing. Maybe they weren't
smacked around enough as kids.
People suck, but no more than anything else on Earth.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Lost Angel"
by AngelIBP
Have you ever seen a smile that brightens a day that made all of your
problems go away I have an angel that has lost it's way as time come and
goes there is only one place I want to be near that angel that is close to
me even in dark of a the black of night I will run I will fight for that
angels sight.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"THE FALL LINEUP - MUST SEE AFGHAN TV"
* * MONDAYS
8:00 Mohamar in the Middle
8:30 Husseinfeld - "comedy about nothing" which takes place in a desert
8:30 Mad About Everything
9:00 Suddenly Sanctions
9:30 Barbara Walters Interview...Scheduled: Bin Laden's Food Taster
10:00 Allah McBeal
12:15 Captured Northern Alliance Rebels Say the Darndest Things - sponsored
by Amnesty International
**TUESDAYS
8:00 Wheel of Terror and Fortune
8:30 The Price is Right if Osama Says It's Right
9:00 Children are Forbidden from Saying the Darndest Things
9:30 Afganistan's Wackiest Public Execution Bloopers
10:00 Buffy the Yankee Imperialist Slayer
**WEDNESDAYS
8:00 That's My Bush (with subtitles)
8:30 When Mullahs Attack
9:00 Taliban Nightly News with Dan Rather
9:30 Just Shoot Everything
11:00 Montel - Tough Love: Boot Camps in the Middle East -Where to send
your troubled teen when nothing else seems to work
11:30 Arabic Discovery Channel for Children - Make learning fun.
"Death to America / Can You Spell Anthrax?"
12:00 Sex in the City (Celebrity Snuff Film) - Sarah Jessica Parker gets
stoned to death, in real life, for being an American imperialist
bitch and a whore (live via satellite)
** THURSDAYS
8:00 Happy Days - Saddam Loves Joanie and Chachi Episode
8:30 Movie of the Week: Ayatollah Doesn't Live Here Any More Starring
Ellen Burstyn
9:00 The New M*A*S*H* - Radar gets a 3 day pass, visits the Iraqi border,
runs out of money and loses his good hand for stealing pita bread
from a blind street vendor.
9:30 Frasier - Niles seeks psychological help for his sudden aversion to
babaganoush
10:00 Afganistan's Most Wanted (hosted by John Walsh...with special guests
Salmon Rushdie and Richard Simmons. TOPIC: "diet on the run for
fleeing fugitives"
** FRIDAYS
9:30 Ahmed's Creek
10:00 No Witness News
10:30 Oprah - Book of the Month Club: Death to America -Oprah chats heart-
to-heart with fundamentalist leaders on how we can get them to like
us again
11:00 Geraldo Live! From Libya: Geraldo, Judge Judy and Mohamar Kaddafi
sit down and discuss her latest book, "Don't Pee on My Leg and Tell
Me Its Because I'm An American." Mohamar doesn't like the title and
she is put to death. A melee breaks out onstage and Geraldo's nose
is broken again.
11:30 Funniest Bin Laden Home Videos
11:00 Temptation Island... Don't EVEN think About It Unless You're a
REFORMED Fundamentalist (this show is forbidden by the Taliban,
Mormons, the Amish, AND mainstream Scientologists)
12:15 THE LATE MOVIE - Midnite Express (remake) with Robert DeNiro and
Charles Grodin - A bounty hunter in an Istanbul jail cell with
Tourette's syndrome AND an attitude problem. Charles Grodin plays
his cellmate/girlfriend.
**SATURDAY
8:00 SURVIVOR (Clue: there aren't any)
9:00 Law & Punishment: Special Afghan Unit "...This is Gonna Hurt"
10:00 Friends - The Final Episode - Phoebe, Rachel and Monica, on vacation
in Tehran, are imprisoned and threatened with beheading for traveling
without husbands. Chandler, Ross, and Joey could conceivably rescue
them but get scared and opt to book the next flight back to New York.
This has a bad ending.
11:00 McLoughlin Report - Featured: Effect of the Taliban on Harry Potter
Book Sales
11:30 Comedy - Live from Kabul....Its Saturday Night
12:00 South Park / Kenny Must Die Again & Again - (the never-ending Fatwah)
12:45 Behind the Music: Cat Stevens chats up his latest venture (a falafel
stand) and explains why he feels Salmon Rushdie should join the
Witness Protection Program
1:15 HBO: The Sopranos Special - Shot on Location in Mecca -Tony Soprano
goes on an extended vacation and hires a local shrink - surprise!
She's a female fundamentalist who wears a veil and was classically
trained as a Freudian dream interpreter. Finally, someone who agrees
with Tony that his wife is a bitch and his daughter should be put to
death. Does Tony have any choice but to try and sleep with her?
(viewer discretion is advised; adult language / graphic veil removal
scenes)
Edited / Revised by: Prunella Frigstone aka Funnigerl5
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Pullin' a Squinky"
by Gloomchen
Once upon a time, in November 1995, a young girl moved into a bright,
fresh apartment with two "men." One was her age, obnoxious, funny, true,
and mean; the other was older, dirtier, lazier, and by all accounts
stranger. The first was her friend, the second a new acquaintance. The
first was not a schizophrenic child molester, the second was. But that part
of the story doesn't come into play.
The second guy, let's call him Don (since that was his name) had a
computer. This was 1995, and not a lot of people had computers,
particularly not 24-year-old bachelors fresh from a Navy Section 8 with no
job and barely hanging on to attending school. It was old even by 1995
standards--a 386 SX, if that means anything to you. It was four years old.
It was top of the line in 1991. Or so I was told.
Don really didn't do anything but sit at the computer all day long.
Or watch Xena: Warrior Princess. Or watch every strain of Star Trek that
existed. Or read his tarot cards. Or have sex with a 13-year-old girl
named Holly. Don was a winner.
One day, he decided to teach me and Tom how to IRC. I'm not sure why
exactly anymore. I had probably asked him to. He informed us that we most
certainly could not join the channels #wicca or #lonely, because if we did
anything to get him banned there, he would kill us with his bare hands. Not
a problem. I wanted to go where the vampire poets and the atheists go.
And thus, I was thrust online. I needed an identity. That's the
whole online schtick, you know. Previous to my first IRC moment, I had been
using the computer lab between classes in my first year of college to
explore and conquer PCs, which I hadn't used before up until then. I was
also exploring and conquering the World Wide Web, where I used cgi-induced
"chat rooms" to speak to the outside world. I didn't really have an
identity there. But I sure needed one now.
A couple of months back, I had been dating my very first love of my
life, John. And he fucked around on me with one of my close friends,
Charity. So I ditched them both and turned to Liz Phair for consolation.
I was never some big indie music guru (in fact, most of my CD collection
consisted of SCREEEEEEEEAMING METAL), but everything she spoke in her music
struck a chord with me while I was left jilted and alone. And so with that
knowledge, plus the fact that I couldn't stand to be mistaken for a boy,
the handle Phairgirl was born.
This was my big identity. I was a Liz Phair fan, and I wanted the
world to know. By and large, they picked that up. It was a wonderful
thing. And I still got to hang out with the vampire poets and atheists,
just like I wanted to. Until two months later when Don claimed that I broke
his mouse and was bringing evil spirits into the house. Well, maybe that
whole schizophrenia thing *does* come into play in this story.
I've been Phairgirl for over five years now. Since the initial
conception of my name, not only have I become a whole new person, but so has
Liz Phair. She's married and has a kid now and writes much happier music.
I still love her to pieces, but I don't identify with her anymore. Her
music to me is more of a fond memory and a recollection of some of the
hardest times in my life. The only problem here is that I'm not a bitter
person, so the stigma of being a Liz Phair Fan doesn't fit at all anymore.
I've been wanting to change my handle since late 1998; I've really
only kept it around because it made me that much easier to track down and to
be recognized by people, and I crave that whole fame thing. Plus, I've
witnessed quite a few total and complete failures in handle changes where
no matter how much one tries to escape, it fails miserably. Then again,
the people in question rely on their handles a lot more than I do. I
haven't used "Phairgirl" in ages for anything other than writing for 'zines
and as a login name for most internet functions. I haven't used the name on
IRC in over a year. And, quite frankly, I've grown to completely hate it.
So, what is the alternative? I've used an insane amount of handles
in passing--everything from pika-pika to vctriapge to bellossom to kirehana
to pfrogoat, and all for more than just a short passing time. They were all
9-letter IRC handle friendly, just as I wish to remain. But back in July of
this past year, someone combined two of my very happy but nondescript
fetishes into a handle concept that I've never been so excited about using
since the wee ages of 1995. It was the first time I was so utterly serene
and happy about the thought of a handle since then. I've been using it on
and off on IRC, so why not everywhere else? Why not risk disposing of years
of tradition and hard work under one name when that name makes me want to
stab a fork in my eye? It's not like I'm SUPER FAMOUS or anything (*cough
cough *PRINCE* cough cough*) and the name change will change everyone's
lives here. Everyone calls me by my natural first name anyway. So it's
really just an aesthetic thing at this point.
So... hooray, gloomchen it is.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Words of Encouragement"
by Jo Oh
As if Phairgirl isn't hot.
-me
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
THE ZOWEE FILES: PAVEMENT
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
1 .oo. by .
o o . o o
o o .oo. o o .. o .. .. .. o . o .ooo.
"Radio" o*o* o o o o o .* o o o o .* o o o o
o oooo *. o o . o o o o . o o. o .
o .o o oo *oo o o o *oo o * *o
.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
*
Radio is really in a sad state these days. I decided to turn on the
radio yesterday to see if it had improved any since I last really
listened to it about 5 years ago. I'll let you be the judge.
[I turn on the radio]
"Ni-Ni-Ni-Ni-Ni-Ninety Seven Five K-POI FM Honolulu Hawai'i The Rock
You Live on is proud to present in concert Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma-Matchbox 20 long with
sp-sp-sp-sp-special guests Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-Papa Roach on April
ei-ei-ei-eighteenth. Be sure to bring your VIP card so that you can have
the privelige of receiving a sticker to put on your car so you can do free
ad-ad-ad-ad-advertising for us."
"Hey, it's 97.5 K-POI the Rock You Live On...comin' up next is
Creed, followed by Matchbox 20, then Papa Roach, and then after the break
will be Papa Roach, Creed, and then, by request, more Creed. It's the Rock
You Live..."
[I flip the channel]
"...I-94, Hawai'i's Real Hits. Stay tuned ya'll, because up next is
Booty Dog with his hit "I Wanna Sex You Bitch," then we'll be playing Puff
Daddy's latest joint "I Am the Walrus," but first a word from our sponsors:"
"This Saturday [followed by a robot voice saying "this Saturday"] at
World Cafe, Hawai'i's phattest meat market is LAAAAAAADIES Night! All women
that show up naked get in free! All men in canary-yellow leather pants and
an egotistic state of mind get $8.00 Mai-Tai's. And we've got drink
specials galore: Jose Cuervo is only $19.00 a shot, Budweiser blowin at the
door at $12.00 a bottle. It's Wooooooooorld Caaaaaaafe!!!!!!!"
"Aloha, this is Chief Dipshit, of the Honolulu Police Department.
Recently, there has been a rash of attacks on our Japanese visitors. Please
kokua and remember that you would still be picking pineapples and living in
grass huts if not for our Asian tourists. Mahalo I-94 for caring."
"Yo, This is I-94, a'ight before we play the Booty Dog song, Akemi
from Waimanalo wants to send a special dedication out: 'Hi, Brian, the love
of my life, I just want to say that on our special day (it's been two
wonderful years), that this Booty Dog song perfectly describes the sweet
words you say to me.' Alright Akemi, much mahalos for..."
[I flip the channel]
"...You're listening to KTUH, college radio for the University of
Hawai'i, and this is the Underground Sounds show. First we're going to hear
from Wesley Willis, with "I Kicked Batman's Ass." What I find so
fascinating about "I Kicked..." is the raw emotion, the inner
proletariat breaking free at last; this track is intellectual due to
its foreboding, yet everpresent lack of intellectualism...and then after
that will be a tape of a guy screaming "fuck" 83 times. Keep it here on
90.3 KTUH.
[This is actually a real song]
"I KICKED Batman's ass
I kicked BATMAN'S ass
I kicked Batman's ASS
Batman was a bitch; I didn't like him very much, so I kicked his ass
I KICKED Batman's ass
I kicked BATMAN'S ass
I kicked Batman's ASS
Now Batman started flying around like a bat, I told him "stop that" and he
wouldn't, so I kicked his ass
I KICKED Batman's ass
I kicked BATMAN'S ass
I kicked Batman's ASS
Rock on London
Rock on Chicago
Rock on Detroit
I KIIIIIIICKED BATMAN'S AAAAASS!"
.
2 .oo. by .
o o . o o
o o .oo. o o .. o .. .. .. o . o .ooo.
"A Public Service o*o* o o o o o .* o o o o .* o o o o
Announcement" o oooo *. o o . o o o o . o o. o .
o .o o oo *oo o o o *oo o * *o
.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
*
This is a pubic service announcment. There is something that has
ruined more lives than AIDS, alcoholism, suicide, and murder combined. And
that something is Rush. Thet are the biggest dorks of all time. I realize
small children may be reading this, so I am hesitant to reprint this filth.
But the good of humanity must come first; Rush must be exposed before the
world is further sullied by their "music." I now present some Rush lyrics;
I can only pray NetNanny and Surfwatch will filter this out.
[Geddy Lee actually tried to rap in one of Rush's songs -- someone
was smoking crack that day in the studio]
"Jack, relax.
Get busy with the facts.
No zodiacs or almanacs,
No maniacs in polyester slacks.
Just the facts.
Gonna kick some gluteus max.
It's a paralax, you dig?"
[I dare you to read the following and not get ill]
"Net boy, net girl
Send your signal 'round the world
Let your fingers walk and talk
And set you free
Net boy, net girl
Send your impulse 'round the world
Put your message in a modem
And throw it in the Cyber Sea"
[Here, Neal Peart commits what the California State Police refer to
as a 687, AKA Second Degree Crime Against Music, with Intent to Cause
Dorkiness]
"I stand atop a spiral stair
An oracle confronts me there
He leads me on light years away
Through astral nights, galactic days"
[Gimme an N! Gimme an E! Gimme an R! Gimme a D! What does it spell?
Rush!]
"To seek the sacred river Alph
To walk the caves of ice
To break my fast on honey dew
And drink the milk of paradise"
[For the love of God, someone call AD&D Anonymous and force these
guys to attend.]
"Stealthily attacking,
By-Tor slays his foe.
The men are free to run now
from labyrinths below.
Wraith of the Necromancer
shadows through the sky;
another land to darken
with evil prism eye."
If you DO see someone listening to Rush, do not hesitate, please call
911 immediately. Together, we can Bust The Rush.
.
3 .oo. by .
o o . o o
o o .oo. o o .. o .. .. .. o . o .ooo.
"The Diary of o*o* o o o o o .* o o o o .* o o o o
BackstreetGurl_14" o oooo *. o o . o o o o . o o. o .
o .o o oo *oo o o o *oo o * *o
.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
*
1/17/01
Dear Diary,
I was in the AOL chat rooms today and met a really sweet boy. I'm
so excited! His nickname is 54YearOldStud. He is 14 and lives in North
Dakota. And he says he likes Backstreet almost as much as I do! I
wonder why he couldn't name any of their songs? Well, gotta run, he
just sent me two pics of himself. One is called MyPnis.gif and the
other one is MeJckingOff2.gif. I bet he's really cute! = )
1/18/01
Dear Diary,
Those pictures were of his private parts! How grodey! I told Kari
about it at school today and she called me a stupid b---h. What's her
darn problem?! Ever since I sat behind her in geometry class year, we
have been best friends. Maybe it's, you, know, that thing that happens
every month.
1/19/01
Dear Diary,
I feel horrible! Today, 54YearOldStud IMed me and said he found out
a hacker had put a virus on his computer that changed all the picture
files to gross ones! I can't believe I jumped to conclusions and
thought he was a perv. That wasn't fair of me. He sent me his real
picture, and guess what, Diary? He IS really cute! :) He looks
EXACTLY like Leonardo DiCaprio!
1/20/01
Dear Diary,
I am so happy! **the man of my dreams**, 54YearOldStud is driving
all the way from North Dakota next week to come visit me! I asked him how
he could drive since he was only 14, and he said they have different
laws in ND! I wish they had that here, that would kick butt! He said
he wants to be sure my parents are out of town when he visits, so we
can be alone in our love! What a sweetheart! =)
1/25/01
Dear Diary,
It's the big day!!! Mom and Dad are out of town and 54YearOldStud is
driving here right now! I've been pumping Backstreet all day to get
psyched up for it. I can't wait! Mandy is going to be so jealous! He
said we're going to a movie and then we're going to have a picnic in a
highly secluded spot where no one can interupt! He's soooooooo
romantic. Omigosh, it's him at the door now! Gotta run, I'll fill you
in on all the details tomorrow, Diary!!
1/26/01
Dear Diary,
I think Kari was right when she called me a stupid b---h.
54YearOldStud did some bad things to me. Dad called the police, and
they are tracking him down right now! Forgive me for saying this
Jesus, but I hope that bad man rots in hell!
4/24/01
Dear Diary,
Well, it's been 3 months and the police still haven't been able to
find 54YearOldStud. Life goes on, I guess. Mom told me never to give out
any of my personal information to bad people online ever again. Don't
worry, Mom, I won't! Only nice guys! Like the one I met today,
HottBoner4U. I wonder what all those funny letters in his nickname
mean. He told me it had something to do with Ambercrombie & Fitch.
Cool, my favorite clothes! He is so groovy =)
4/29/01
Dear Diary,
Big news!! You will not believe this! HottBoner4U knows Nick from
Backstreet!!! They're both coming to visit me in two weeks! When I
called Kari and told her, she called me a stupid b---h again. Well,
who needs her? She's just jealous because I'm meeting a hottie like
Nick and she's not!
5/14/01
Dear Diary,
I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Kari. Mom took away my computer today,
so no evil people would come to our house anymore. I hate men! They
are all pigs. Katie, one of my chiquitas from school, invited me to a
dance party tonight. It's called The Dyke Turnpike. Sounds fun! I
hope they play Backstreet there!
5/15/01
Dear Diary,
Ewww...gross! Katie tried hitting me at the dance party. Yuck!
They didn't even play Backstreet, it was some music called Melissa
Etheridge or something.
4 .oo. by .
o o . o o
o o .oo. o o .. o .. .. .. o . o .ooo.
"Just Gimme Indie Rock" o*o* o o o o o .* o o o o .* o o o o
o oooo *. o o . o o o o . o o. o .
o .o o oo *oo o o o *oo o * *o
.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
*
When I was around 15 or so, my oh-so-hip friends in Detroit got me
into the indie rock 'scene,' which as far as I can tell, has something to do
with wearing dorky black glasses and posturing like you're the world's
foremost expert on music. I actually heard the following once: "If it has a
barcode on it, I don't buy it!" Gimme a damn break. Anyway, though I can't
stand most of the 'scenesters' in indie rock, it's still pretty cool music.
Polvo was a great band from Chapel Hill, North Carolina
(unexplicably, one of the centers of the indie scene). The stuff they
played was just so much different from everything else out there. They used
all kinds of weird string bends and fucked up sounds, but it wasn't "noise
music," it was just something totally original that defied categorization.
Regonizable as rock, but highly unlike any other rock out there. One of the
things I've always liked in music is cryptic lyrics and Polvo totally takes
it to the next level. Maybe I'm reading too much into it (okay, I KNOW I
am), but I can remember hours of listening to their music, pondering lines
like "disconnect one eye with a wishbone thigh" and "we have to rent a
school bus stuffed with sand, it's only gonna cost you a 100 grand." In all
likelihood, the lyrics don't mean shit, but it's sure fun pretending they
do.
About the middle of their career, they released an EP called
"Celebrate the New Dark Age." One of the songs on it featured the line "We
just bought a sitar, so be prepared," which I wrote off as just another
inane but typical lyric. Well, wouldn't you know it, they eliminated most
of the guitars for sitars after that album. That's when they really started
to suck. See, they had a (well-deserved) reputation as being intensely
unique and really pushing the envelope. Maybe they felt like they'd gotten
as weird as they possibly could with the guitars; who knows. I mean, having
SOME sitar can sound cool (like with the Beatles), but an entire album of
them trying to work the instrument in where the guitar should have been?
Bad idea. Apparently everyone else thought so too, as their career took a
big nose dive, they released two albums of the sitar crap, then broke up.
Polvo's singer (Ashe Bowie) currently plays bass in a slightly more well-
known band (that sounds nothing like Polvo) called Helium. BTW, all my
friends (with the exception of the guy who got me into the band) become
visibly disgusted when they hear Polvo; they say it's the worst music ever
recorded. They're one of those bands you either love or despise, I suppose.
Modest Mouse -- these guys may be the current darlings of College
Radio, but they suck a dick. The singer's voice grates on you so much that
he makes Geddy Lee look like Pavorotti. The lyrics are stupid and anghsty.
The music is godawful fuzzy crap; everything about this band is just all
around horrible. I've come to the conclusion that this is one of those
bands that thrives on nothing other than its "hip" reputation.
While I'm on the subject of bands that subsist solely off their
reputation, how about those "Elephant 6" (or is it Elf 6?) bands like Death
Cab for Cutie, Apples in Stereo, etc. They all blow. Apparently, these 6
different bands got together a while ago and decided they were going to all
put this E-something 6 logo on all their recordings. It was just a cheap
marketing ploy, but I guess it's been effective. The idea is that if you
like one E6 band, you'll search for the rest of them. But what if you can't
stand one of the bands? Or two? Then that fucks over all 6 of the bands!
Good plan, guys.
Sebadoh / Sentridoh / Folk Implosion are all the works of one Lou
Barlow. For unknown reasons, this guy inspires fanatical worship unseen
since... ever. One of my friends told me that he plans on naming his future
son after Lou Barlow. I wanted to hit my friend really, really hard when he
said that. Most of the songs Barlow does are folk, I'm-killing-myself-
because-my-girlfriend-broke-up-with-me type music and good, but not
spectactular. I went to a Folk Implosion show in Detroit, and I liked it.
The other guy in Folk Implosion wasn't in the band anymore; it was just Lou
Barlow on stage with an acoustic guitar and a drum machine. I talked to him
before the show and he seemed like a really cool guy; not a "rock star" at
all, just a shy guy that liked to play music because it made him happy.
While I was having a nice friendly chat with him, my friend (the guy naming
his kid after Lou Barlow) runs up: "Oh my God, Lou Barlow! I love you,
you've got more talent than anyone in the history of music, I'm naming my
kid after you!" Yes, he actually said all that. Lou Barlow got a confused
look on his face and just said "Uh, okay." My friend then proceeded to give
Lou a demo tape of his band, which oddly enough, contained music that
sounded exactly like Sebadoh.
I really respect Lou Barlow because he doesn't let the worship he
gets from his fans go to his head, unlike some other musicians
(*cough*radiohead*cough*). Probably the best part of the concert was when
he did a folk version of "Round and Round" by Ratt. I hear he does that at
every show, but it was hilarious and much better than the original (not like
that's saying much). If you want to hear a beautiful song, type these
simple words into your Napster clone: "folk implosion round and round." Oh,
and I almost forgot to mention that he did the theme song for "Kids in the
Hall."
Opening for Folk Implosion that night was Julie Dorion. I won't get
into the music she played because (1) I don't remember it at all, and (2)
she cut in front of me in the line at the bar, then gave me a dirty look
when I cut back in front of her. Payback's a bitch, isn't it, Ms. Just-had-
to-get-your-drink-30-seconds-faster? Who's laughing NOW, huh? The music
she did with Eric's Trip, before she went solo, however, was awesome. I can
remember being 16 and getting fucked up on mini-thins while listening to the
Eric's Trip album "Love Tara." I'd just lie there in bed, with the CD on
repeat for about 6 hours. They wrote extremely sad but pretty songs, and
then they wrote these hardcore, rocking, blow-your-eardrums-away type songs.
They really had something for everyone. Eric's Trip managed to write
_intelligent_ "I broke up with my boy/girlfriend" music, which most bands
can't pull off. They were from Canada, but I forgive them.
Speaking of Canada, another band I like is Godspeed You Black Emperor
from Quebec. A Canadian woman I exchanged e-mail with back in the day got
me into them, and I'm glad she did. They have the patented indie rock
prententiousness in copious amounts, but their music is damn good, so they
almost have the right. Their music is like "indie classical," I guess -
classical music with a little guitar thrown in (but not in the stupid way
Metallica does it). Godspeed You Black Emperor sounds kind of new age-ish,
too. Actually, the music defies description, but they sound great. The
best thing of all is that record stores often sell used GYBE albums at used
EP prices -- with only 3 or so (really, really long) songs on each release,
I can see why they'd be fooled. From what I've heard, their concerts are
true EXPERIENCES and they really go all out. I have no idea if they ever
tour the US, but you can bet I'll be seeing them if they do.
Ween isn't really indie rock, but they're one of my favorite bands.
These guys have a shitload of musical talent and have been written off as a
joke band for far too long. They can and do play every style of music known
to man and do it really well. The music they release now pretty much blows,
but back in the day, they were the greatest. Ween were signed by Elektra
Records when they were only 19, and I still haven't figured out why. Their
early albums were just the two of them, OBVIOUSLY baked off their asses,
recording weird (but very creative) lo-fi songs about stupid shit in one
take on a 4 track in their apartment. And there they were, on a major
record label. It still blows my mind. Over time, they took the weirdness
from the 4 track to the recording studio, and that's when they started to
slide; it became far too polished. In the early days, their albums had
CHARACTER: you'd hear them say "dude, you fucked it up again!" and the like
during the songs.
About a year ago, I was downloading truckloads of songs from Napster
(like I always did), and I came across a b-side I'd never heard or seen
mentioned on a Ween web page: It was Ween doing a full-on country version of
Snoop Doggy Dogg's "Gin & Juice." I nearly pissed my pants laughing when I
heard it and it has to be one their best songs. A couple months later, I
found a Ween (again, country) cover of Dr. Dre's "Deez Nutz," but it's not
nearly as good. But like I said, they're not a "joke band" by any means --
their rendition of "Gin & Juice" is hilarious, but it the kicks ass
musically, too.
The Flaming Lips - Goddamn, what a scam. These are the same idiots
that had a hit with "She Don't Use Jelly,' and now they're some sort of
indie gods. My fellow dorks on the terminally hip Pavement mailing list
went on and on and on and ON about how great the Flaming Lips are, so I
bought their latest album, "The Soft Bulletin." I immediately wanted to
hunt down every single person on the mailing list and bludgeon them. The
Flaming Lips are the epitome of "we're too hip for you, so we can release
garbage music and call it art." They should have broken up before their
first band practice (although I'm not really convinced that they DO
practice).
Radiohead - not indie rock, their fans just would like to think they
are. I'm including them in this t-file because they have all the snobbery
and prententiousness of indie rock, but none of the talent. Once again, the
assholes on the Pavement mailing list got me to ignore my better judgement,
and I actually bought "Kid A." I would go through each song and tell you
how bad it sucks, but I sold the album back to the record store within 3
days of buying it. It's okay to make music that's "weird" if it's GOOD, but
not if the "weird" is all you've got going for you. Maybe they want people
to think all the stupid scribblings inside the CD booklet are "deep," but
they're just retarded. The songs -- and I use the term loosely -- are
cringe-inducing; just because Rolling Stone and Spin say you're
revolutionary and some MTV kids believe them, doesn't mean you ARE. That's
something Radiohead obviously hasn't figured out yet. Rolling Stone also
thinks bullshit like Moby is "fresh and different." Woo-hoo - you guys can
use a computer to make music and are marginally better than crap like Limp
Bizkit; big fucking deal. I guarantee this will be the sort of thing people
will look back on in 10 years and laugh about.
When I started in the BBS scene (around '91 or '92) I got into this
really cool (and at the time, fairly underground) band called Pavement. So,
that's what I made my handle. It's horrible, I know. I hate "music
handles;" they show a BIG lack of imagination, but my 12 or 13 year self
thought it would be cool, I haven't been able to come up with something
better since (how can that be possible), so I've stuck with it. Pavement --
god, I used to love those guys, and I still like them a little bit.
Pavement tried SO hard to break into the mainstream, but it just never
happened. They wrote poppy, catchy-as-hell songs that were mostly devoid of
any meaning. That's what I like about them - they're sort of the antithesis
of Radiohead and don't ask you to think they're geniouses. The songs are
just FUN to listen to. Well, that's how they used to be, anyway. The
singer, Stephen Malkmus got on this big power trip that even Axl Rose would
be jealous of. I've heard a recording of Pavement arguing in the studio is
floating around the internet, wherin Malkmus says "I AM Pavement." God, why
can't these indie rock guys just chill out? Anyway, they recently released
"Terror Twilight," a horrible album of self-important bullshit and broke up
after a fruitful 10 year career. Malkmus then went on to make a solo record
that managed to capture all that was pretentious about "Terror Twilight" and
magnify it by 1000.
So, in conclusion, there are way more assholes in indie rock than any
other style of music, but these assholes can make really good songs when
they're not arguing over royalties.
Oh, and regarding Gloomchen's guess in an old file that Whitesnake's
"Here I Go Again" video inspired massive amounts of masturbation: DAMN
STRAIGHT it did!! I think Tawny Kitaen was the primary reason I stopped
thinking girls had cooties.
5 .oo. by .
o o . o o
o o .oo. o o .. o .. .. .. o . o .ooo.
"Dear Count Black Death" o*o* o o o o o .* o o o o .* o o o o
o oooo *. o o . o o o o . o o. o .
o .o o oo *oo o o o *oo o * *o
.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
*
Dear Count Black Death,
I need your help! My boyfriend, Chad, just broke up with me last
week. I've been crying my eyes out ever since. I call him 12 times a day,
but all he ever says is "it's over between us," and hangs up the phone. I
tried praying, but God doesn't seem to answer.
--Cindi
DEAR CINDI,
THIS IS THE PERFECT SOLUTION. HACK GOD! CHECK THIS OUT FIRST YOU GO
TO CHURCH AND THE PREIST GOES WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU MY CHILD AND THEN YOU GO
GIMME CHAD BACK THEN HE GOES OKAY. THEN YOU START PRAYING AND TELL JESUS
THAT YOUR GOING TO GET IN A FUCKING PLANE AND DROP ABOUT 1,000,000 PING PONG
BALL BOMBS ON MT. SINAI. THEN GOD WILL GO OKAY SHIT DON'T DO THAT I'LL GIVE
YOU CHAD BACK. I WOULD TEST IT OUT FOR YOU BUT THEN I WOULD BE GAYER THAN
PEOPLE THAT DON'T CALL NIGHTMAREZ OF DOOM BBS AT 307-555-1212.
--COUNT BLACK DEATH
Dear Count Black Death,
I love your column; it always tugs on my heartstrings. I wanted to
share a story with your readers: My 8 year old son was cut from his wiffle
ball team and he was very sad...[2 pages later]...then he said "I love you
Mommy" and we ate some ice cream. And that's how he learned that winning
isn't everything. Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever heard in
your life? Thanks for listening; my cubicle at work is filled with clippings
from your column.
--Margaret Jones
DEAR MARGARET,
HEHEHE I'M THE ONE WHO GOT YOUR SON CUT FROM HIS WIFFLE BALL TEAM.
ME, DEMON KNIGHT AND DOS BEAST WERE SITTING AROUND ONE DAY AND WE WANTED TO
DO SOME ANARKY, SO WE WENT DOWN TO THE WIFFLE BALL DIAMOND. THEN I PICKED
UP ONE OF THOSE BATS AND CRACKED THE COACH UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH IT A FEW
TIMES AND HE GOT KNOCKED UNCOUNCHUS. THEN I GAVE THE BAT TO YOUR SON AND
SAID THE COACH WANTED HIM TO HOLD ONTO IT FOR SAFEKEEPING UNTIL HE WAS AWAKE
AND YOUR SON GOES OKAY. THEN I GO OH AND WHEN HE WAKES UP HE'S GOING TO
START CUSSING AND STUFF. YOUR COACH SAID HE'LL GIVE YOU SOME CANDY AND SHIT
IF YOU SAY YOU HIT HIM AND YOUR SON SAID OKAY MISTER DEATH I'LL DO IT AND I
SAID YEAH WON'T THAT BE A FUNNY JOKE AND HE GOES YEAH.
--COUNT BLACK DEATH
Dear Count Black Death,
I am a mother of 3, and a long-time reader of your column. Recently,
I found some marijuana in my teenage son's room. He really respects you, so
I was wondering if you could print something about the dangers of drugs for
me to give to him.
--Cathy in Nebraska
DEAR CATHY,
DON'T WORRY THAT WASN'T MARIWONA YOU FOUND.
"How I Ripped off Cathy's Son": The new t-file by Count Black Death of the
legendary & infamous hacking group E.L.I.T.E.
ONE DAY ME AND DOS BEAST WERE IN THE HICK STATE OF NEBRASCA AND I GO
HEY DOS BEAST LETS GET REVINGE ON ALL THE GAY CORN THEY GROW HERE AND DOS
BEAST GOES OKAY. SO AFTER WE WRECKED FARMER BROWNS BUTTER CHURN LIKE I
WRECK DEMON KNIGHT IN RAINBOW SIX, WE BAGGED UP SOME OF THE CORN AND SHIT.
I HAD DOS BEAST CARRY THE CORN BECAUSE HE'S GAYER THAN I AM. THEN WE SAW
SOME STUPID BITCH NAMED CATHY AND DOS BEAST DISTRACTED HER BY FLEXING HIS
MUSSELS THEN I TOLD CATHY'S SON THAT THE CORN WAS GANJUH AND I SOLD IT TO
HIM FOR ALL HIS CRISMAS MONEY. HOPE THAT HELPS HEHEHEHEHHEHEHE
--COUNT BLACK DEATH
DEAR READERS: I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE KEWL IF I HAD MY GOOD BUDDY THE
RAPPER SNOOP DOGGY DOGG ANSWER SOME OF THE SAME LETTERS SO HERE WE GO:
Dear Snoop Dogg,
I am a mother of 3, and a long-time reader of your column. Recently,
I found some marijuana in my teenage son's room. He really respects you, so
I was wondering if you could print something about the dangers of drugs for
me to give to him.
--Cathy in Nebraska
Dear Cathy,
A'ight, here are the dangers:
-You get helly money
-You get mad bitches
-Life is a phat party 24/7
So, yo, listen up Cathy's son, don't be smokin' chronic. That shit
ain't cool.
--Snoop
Dear Snoop Dogg,
I love your column; it always tugs on my heartstrings. I wanted to
share a story with your readers: My 8 year old son was cut from his wiffle
ball team and he was very sad...[2 pages later]... then he said "I love you
Mommy" and we ate some ice cream. And that's how he learned that winning
isn't everything. Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever heard in
your life? Thanks for listening; my cubicle at work is filled with clippings
from your column.
--Margaret Jones
Dear Margaret,
I'll give you some clippings -- they'll be coming straight out my 9
millimeter!
--Snoop
P.S. increase tha peace
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Strange Bedfellows"
by xxDismalxx
It's true. I admit to the fact that I have abnormally low standards.
But I think that may have changed. The reason I say this, is simple. I
have met a man who is everything the others have not been. He is smart
(educated!), he is funny (NOT Beavis and Butthead funny), he makes me laugh
like a woman crazed (not at what he's wearing), we stay up all night having
long, intelligent conversations (not questioning each other who would win in
an ass whoopin contest between Daisy Duck and Minnie Mouse). His name
rhymes with GREAT but, he likes his anonymity. He doesn't care that I'm not
beautiful, and he expects nothing. He, on the other hand, is STUNNING to
look at. He's a redhead... I am a SUCKER for a redhead, which worried me
because all the redheads I have ever known have been surfers, stoners, &
slackers (but I accepted dates and paid thier way regardless). He is truly
different in every way.
Whoever said stubborn women do not change thier views is wrong. Very
wrong and I am proof. I don't know why I am writing this besides the fact
that thanks to the sweet little redhead whose name rhymes with GREAT, I have
faith in love songs again. I don't close my eyes when I walk past a mirror.
I am not ashamed to admit my tendency to be a little over-emotional at
times. And this change is just from a friendship that started one week ago.
I'll be back in a month a changed woman, I'm sure. But until then, I am
going to learn all I can from this man. As long as he is willing to
continue being the teacher he has been. Not only have my standards in life
raised, but so has my chin. So have my expectations. I'm not in love...
But I believe he better stop while he's ahead or it may come to that!
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
Infernal's First Staff Bio (hee hee hee, he probably forgot ALL about this)
by Infernal
Hey, can I write up a li'l staff conversation questionnaire thing? Uh, I
mean, I just wrote one, can I be listed with the others?
4am... guess it's time for bed...
K
Self-described writing style: a trapeze walk across the fine line between
"a way with words" and "what a pretentious dick." I've got bruises on
bruises from falling on the latter side too often.
Primary influences: Kurt Vonnegut, James Thurber, Nick Hornby, Joseph
Heller, Martin Walkyier, heavy metal, caffeine, and my awkward daily run-ins
with the rest of the world.
Most underrated thing ever: Falling asleep in a hot bath.
If I were a superhero, I'd be: in touch with a high-powered agent about
endorsement deals and action figure contracts.
This will be overheard at my funeral: "He had such potential... what
happened?"
Loves of my life: My dear cat Chumley (R.I.P.), staying up all night, music,
the sound of my own voice, solitude, cheese, nudity, coffee, putting words
on paper, and your mom.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Police State 2000"
Jason Harper(Munky/SexyPickle)
[presented... UNEDITED! See, sometimes we do reject stuff]
I didn't writew this, but it is one of my favorite songs by Fear
Factory, and I thought alot of you might be able to relate to it............
...
Invade and Incompass, To judge and Dissect. Witness and Persecute, to
serve and protect. Watchful and aware, constrain every movement. Admit the
consequences, freedom's an illusion. Where is security governed through
scrutiny? Your privacy denied, organized and confined. No Place To Hide.
There's no place to hide, plugged in your mind. Conformed design, concede
your rights, concede your mind. Surrender to conformity. "All must abide and
all must adhere" future oppression becoming more clear. This is a warning so
you must take heed, this coming vision is reality.
I think this song has a very strong message, that is why I chose to
share it with you today. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"I Swear It's True"
by Oregano
I'd like to have some great reason to explain my actions. Perhaps a
Puritan upbringing that I felt the need to return to after life got too
difficult to handle. Or maybe a promise to a cancer-ridden child on his
deathbed, or some scheme where a grandparent tells me she'll give me $1,000
if I clean up this part of my life. But none of that is the case and really
it stems from a joke that got out of hand which then gained life of its own
through anger and ultimately is used to shock, its being the opposite of the
normal way of attracting attention.
I have gone an entire year without saying the "F" word. 1999 was
entirely without once, in anger, in jest, by accident, with throbbing
hammer-hit thumb, uttering the f--- word. Other words I did say and this
piece is about them. I said swear words about eleven times the entire year.
Though that is by my standard of what is a swear, since I include some words
which can be, and often are, said on TV or radio. By many standards I only
said three the whole year.
My glossary:
f--- Frick, Frack, Fudge, having sex, screwed over. We know the word.
s--- Crap, crud, shoot. A pile of poo.
d--- Dang, durn, darn. Holds back water.
h--- Heck. Perdition. Where sinners go after they die.
a-- Butt, arse, tush. Where feces fall from. Donkeys.
My list of utterances is not complete. I am sure that I am missing
about two or three which happened at the beginning of the year, back when I
had no idea that I had a chance of saying so few all year. Back then I
though I would use these words if they were necessary to jokes, or in fits
of anger. Instead only once did I use such a word on purpose.
The "s" word popped up on a wet, snowy Saturday when I walked to the
grocery store for the week's groceries. There was a puddle of water that
did not look so deep. I stepped in it and it was about three inches deeper
than I assumed and my shoe was soaked completely and "s---" popped out of my
mouth. This was close to the beginning of the year and I felt all wrong
saying it. Like I had lost the contest before it started. Though there was
no contest and I did not mention my trying to not swear to anyone till
later, once the picture looked more possible.
A friend was saying something and I was reapeating it, doing annoying
parrot-bird talk, and I slipped and said the a-- word.
A note that the a-- word pops up as part of typing other words
"assume" and the h--- word pops up in "hello." While this seems to pose a
problem, I got over it quickly enough as childish sophistry.
The only time I intentially said such a word the entire year was when
I was forced to repeat a joke I read in the New Yorker. It was not that
funny a joke, but I knew my mother would like it. The scene is set outside
a church and the parishners are leaving and talking to the pastor and one
fellow says to the pastor something along the lines -- I cannot recall the
exact words -- that the pastor should be off to h--- himself. Apparently
after a fire and brimstone speech. Like I said it was funnier with the
right line and even funnier if you are old enough to find such things funny.
In June I was talking to a co-worker about Annie Lennox and the d---
word popped out. The co-worker laughed at my flub.
Around this time I started having dreams about swearing. I would be
in a heated situation and I would swear up a storm and then when I woke up I
felt weak that I gave in so easily and I felt dirty and used. And a failure
that I could not reach even these simple goals.
One of the goofier times was a double whammy. I was trying to say
the phrase "wrecked 'em h---, d---- near killed 'em." Which is a pun on the
word "rectum." Anyway I was looking to make it something I could say, which
would be "wrecked 'em heck, darn near killed 'em," but the first time I
tried I said the d--- word trying to avoid the h--- one, and the second time
said the h--- while trying to avoid the d---. But I got it right after
that.
When setting out on something on such a grand scale where each
mistake is gigantic, each time a word pops up by accident it is like getting
shot through the heart with a nail-gun. First there is a feeling of "wait,
I didn't really say that. It was close, but it was not really a swear, that
does not count." But then after a few minutes I see that it does count and
it goes into the notebook. That moment of disbelief is devistating.
I was singing a Monkees song, "Last Train To Clarksville" and singing
it incorrectly as "Take the last train to Clarksville and I'll sit you in
the station." Being that I cannot sing things properly, as this shows, I
also was shhh-ing all the words "shhtake the lashhhht shhhtrain..." and
when I got to "sit" it came out as "s---" and I was busted. That one I
begged myself to not include, but there it was; into the notebook.
The last time of the year was August 19, 1999. This means that there
were four complete months at the end of the year with not a single cuss.
This includes talking about hydrodynamic devices which hold back water, this
includes saying "Highway to Heck" when talking about AC/DC music. The last
time was not dramatic, it was a talk about tacos and whether they are s---
or not. When I repeated that word, when told that tacos are, I felt so
defeated. The person I talked to thought I was being silly, but apparently
it was enough to keep me from swearing since then.
Around this time the dreams changed. Instead of having dreams where
I swore, I had dreams where I had great reason to swear but I said "freak"
and "frack" and "durn" and "heck." These dreams I found to be highly
amusing. I felt that my point was not gotten across strongly but there was
a measure of satisfaction in keeping a semi-cool head.
I think it important to note that I do not take offense when others
swear and I delight when such words slip out on TV during sporting events or
on Nightline.
People seem to be offended when I don't swear. Some urge me on,
"c'mon, just say f--- once." But having this as a goal of mine is a giant
"F-you" to the world. I feel I am pissing off a lot more people this way
than I could swearing like a sailor. And, yes, it is okay to say "piss" --
call me arbitrary.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
THE LONG LOST HOOK FILES OF CAROLE
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
Editor's Note:
Carole's one previous Anada file, "How I Got My Twin Hooks," is the third
most read Anada file ever. This file is only beaten out by the Lyrics file
(a search-engine trap) and anada 60, "100 Songs I Never Get Tired of
Hearing" (another search-engine trap). Does this mean Carole has thousands
of fans? Or does it just mean there are a whole lot of people on the WWW
today searching for amputee stories? You know, please let's just leave both
of those questions hypothetical, because I refuse to believe either one
could be true. Nonetheless, we still had THREE MORE MONSTER STORIES sitting
here by Carole, and it just wouldn't be cleaning house without finally
publishing all of them.
P.S. If anyone knows whatever happened to Carole, let us know. It just
might be the coolest postscript to anything that has ever gone on at Anada.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
HOOKED ON MY TWIN HOOKS
(by Carole -- 09/05/01)
(This story is part fantasy and part reality. I only wish that this
story would have become total reality!)
My name is Carole. I'm a 22 year-old DBE amputee, and I've just
started a career as a teacher of "disabled" children. I have only been a
double-arm amputee for four short months, and I wear a matching pair of
body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks.
This is the story of why both of my hands were amputated just above my
wrists, and how I have successfully adjusted to my present life as a real
DBE amputee who has twin stainless steel hooks instead of two real hands.
For as long as I can remember, I have always very much wanted to
become a real double-arm amputee. Ever since I was only three years old, my
regular babysitter, Tracie, was a young woman who was a congenital double-
arm amputee who wore a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with
twin aluminum hooks. I used to very often fantasize about just what my life
would be like if I was to some day become a double-arm amputee just like
Tracie. I had become a true double-arm amputee wannabe. By the time I was
18 years old, I had already joined several of the amputee groups at eGroups.
I quickly found out that there were many men who were devotees of double-arm
amputees, and that there were even some men who were true double-arm amputee
wannabes. I also found out that there were very few women who were devotees
of double-arm amputees, and that there were almost no women who were true
double-arm amputee wannabes just like myself. Very soon, I started
collecting pictures of women double-arm amputees, and I also was fortunate
to began corresponding with three young women arm amputees -- a LAE amputee,
a DAE amputee, and a LSD amputee. Even though I am now a real DBE amputee,
I still collect pictures of women double-arm amputees, and I still
correspond with all three of those women arm amputees.
One of the women arm amputees with whom I correspond, Charlotte, is a
traumatic LAE amputee who is also completely missing the little finger on
her right hand. Charlotte is very skilled at doing many things one-armed,
so she very seldom wears her left arm prosthesis, even though she is a
medical doctor. Another of the women arm amputees with whom I correspond,
Christine, is a traumatic DAE amputee. She was originally only an LAE
amputee, but since she realized that most of her right arm was essentially
useless, she voluntarily chose to have it amputated at the exact same level
that her left arm had already been amputated. Christine always wears a
matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with Dorrance #5XA aluminum
hooks, and she is skilled enough at using them to do just about everything
that she needs to do -- she lives all alone, she drives her own car, and she
earns a very good living as an expert computer programmer. And the other
woman arm amputee with whom I correspond, Samantha, used to bean arm amputee
wannabe until she finally became a real LSD amputee about two years ago,
when she was only 21 years old. Samantha is absolutely thrilled to be
one-armed, and she never tries to hide the fact that she has no left arm.
Samantha almost never wears any kind of prosthesis in place of her amputated
left arm, and she is just as successful in her job as a high school teacher
now as she was before she became a real LSD amputee. Shortly after I
started corresponding with Charlotte, Christine, and Samantha, I definitely
decided that I would somehow soon find a way to become a real DBE amputee,
so I could wear a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin
Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks!
It was during that time four years ago, when I was still a true
double-arm amputee wannabe, that I started attending college. I met Rob at
college, we started dating one another, and he is now my loving husband.
Unlike me, Rob has never been a true double-arm amputee wannabe, but, for as
long as he can remember, he has been a devotee of women arm amputees,
especially women DBE amputees who wear matching pairs of body-powered arm
prostheses with twin hooks. When I first met him, Rob was very interested
in establishing a serious long-term relationship with a woman double-arm
amputee. His previous girlfriend, Debbie, is a traumatic DBE amputee who
wears a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks. Unfortunately, Debbie had to move to the west coast
in order to keep her job as a real estate broker, and because Rob was unable
to move out there along with her, I became Rob's new girlfriend. Although I
was not a real DBE amputee at the time, Rob and I soon decided to date each
other exclusively because we were both very interested in women double-arm
amputees, and we were both especially interested in women DBE amputees like
Debbie. During the few weeks before she moved to the west coast, I became
very good friends with Debbie, even though she could never quite understand
my reasoning for wanting to become a real DBE amputee like her. Debbie and
I were always very open and totally honest with one another, and she made
sure that I fully understood all of the negative aspects of being a real DBE
amputee. By being such a close friend with Debbie, I quickly learned what
it was really like to have to function on a daily basis with a pair of
stainless steel hooks instead of a pair of real hands. I now knew that
someday soon I would become just like Debbie!
During the first few months that Rob and I were dating one another,
we spent many enjoyable hours looking at and talking about our photograph
collections of women double-arm amputees. I was then, and I still am, very
interested in photographs of women double-arm amputees because I wanted, and
I still want, to be just like: Pam Westling, Melanie Benn, Blanche Shapiro,
Mary Vincent, Denyse Winters, Cynthia Dusel-Bacon, Debbie, Christine, etc.,
etc. At that time, even though I was quite definitely a double-arm amputee
wannabe, I was NOT, and I will NEVER be, a devotee of any woman amputees. I
have also NEVER been, and I will NEVER be, a devotee of any men amputees.
It was at that time that I further decided that when (NOT if) I finally did
become a real double-arm amputee, I would become a real DBE amputee with a
matching pair of rather long arm stumps, and that I would strictly wear a
matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks, just like those that Debbie wears. I was absolutely
and totally determined to become a real DBE amputee and live the rest of my
entire life doing everything with twin stainless steel hooks instead of two
real hands!
One day, shortly after we had started dating, Rob and I were at the
local mall when we spotted a young woman sitting at a nearby table in the
food court. She was wearing a very short black skirt and a short-sleeved
black blouse, and she was just finishing drinking a cup of coffee. What
drew our attention to her was the fact that she was wearing right arm
prosthesis with a hook, and her left hand was totally without any thumb or
any other fingers. We could tell that she was a RBE amputee because of the
way that she skillfully manipulated her coffee cup using her arm prosthesis
with its hook. Rob and I immediately decided to window shop while we waited
to see what this young woman was going to do. When she got up from her
table and started to walk through the mall, we very discreetly followed her.
She soon entered a large department store and went directly into the women's
clothing section. We watched her as she skillfully used her RBE arm
prosthesis with its hook along with her thumbless and fingerless left hand
to examine various items of clothing. Rob was really thrilled because he
was watching a beautiful woman arm amputee, and I was equally thrilled
because I truly envied her multiple amputations along with the fact that she
was also wearing an arm prosthesis with a hook. What happened next was an
extremely fortunate stroke of good luck. The woman started walking towards
the restrooms. Of course, I just had to follow her, so I went into the
ladies' room right after her. She went into a stall and I went into the
stall right next to hers. I waited until she was all done and was washing
her thumbless and fingerless left hand, and then I went up to the sink to
the right of her. At first, I just wanted to get a really good look at her
RBE prosthesis with its hook. As I washed my hands, I saw that she was
indeed wearing a body-powered RBE prosthesis that had a Dorrance adjustable
wrist with a Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook. Without any hesitation, I looked
at her and said, "One of my best friends is a DBE amputee who is just as
skilled at using her matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with their
twin hooks as you are at using your body-powered right arm prosthesis with
its hook." Of course, I was referring to Debbie, the DBE amputee who is a
very good friend of mine and who used to be Rob's girlfriend.
She turned towards me and replied, "Thanks for your kind words. I
can actually do a lot more things using my right arm prosthesis with its
hook than I can do with what little remains of my left hand. Fortunately,
I'm going back to my orthopedic surgeon tomorrow, and he's going to amputate
this useless left hand of mine and give me a left arm stump that is six
inches long, the same length as my right arm stump. Then he's also going to
modify both of my arm stumps to make them much more useful than the right
arm stump that I now have. That way, I'll be able to do a lot of things
just by using my matching pair of special arm stumps all by themselves,
without any prostheses. Of course, I'll still also be able to wear a
matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin hooks that will be
just like my present right arm prosthesis with its hook. I can hardly wait
until tomorrow, and I really regret that I didn't have my orthopedic surgeon
amputate this useless left hand of mine at the same time he amputated my
right hand."
I introduced myself to her, and she introduced herself to me as
Michelle. She then briefly explained to me how she had contacted a severe
viral infection a little more than a year ago, when she was 20 years old.
She went on to explain that in order to halt the spread of that infection,
her doctor had no choice but to amputate not only her right hand about six
inches below her elbow but also her thumb and her four other fingers on her
left hand. I replied that I was sorry to learn of her very serious illness
and her traumatic multiple amputations, and I wished her all the best for
her upcoming amputation and her related operations. As she thanked me,
Michelle extended her right Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook and I shook it with
my right hand. Oh, how I so desperately wanted to be just like Michelle was
soon going to be, a real DBE amputee who would wear a beautiful matching
pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum hooks.
After Michelle left, I went back over to Rob and told him every
detail of our very brief meeting and our very interesting conversation.
Almost daily after my meeting Michelle, Rob and I would talk for hours about
how wonderful it would be when I finally became a real DBE amputee. I
decided that I definitely wanted to become a real DBE amputee as soon as I
possibly could, and that I wanted to have a matching pair of rather long arm
stumps that would allow me to wear a beautiful matching pair of body-powered
arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks. Both Rob and I
thought that a pair of stainless steel hooks would be easier to keep looking
new and shiny than a pair of aluminum hooks. Wanting to live the entire
rest of my life with twin hooks instead of two real hands had become an
absolute obsession for me, it had become my #1 goal in life!
Our daily discussions went on for almost two weeks when Rob finally
told me that he had just found out that there was indeed a way that I could
actually attain my absolute obsession, my #1 goal in life! Rob and I were
beginning to fall in love, and he was extremely willing to do whatever would
be necessary for me to become a real DBE amputee. A friend of Rob's just
recently visited a special medical clinic where "cosmetic" surgeries of all
kinds -- including voluntary amputations -- were safely and expertly
performed, although they were rather expensive. However, since I'm an only
grandchild, and since all four of my grandparents have always given me very
substantial monetary gifts as my yearly birthday presents, paying for any
"cosmetic" surgery that I would desire would certainly not be any problem
for me. Now I had four important questions to answer. Would I voluntarily
choose to have "cosmetic" surgery in order to actually become a real DBE
amputee? Could I still successfully earn my college degree if I actually
became a real DBE amputee? Would I still be able to successfully get a
teaching job if I actually became a real DBE amputee? Lastly, would I still
be able to successfully associate with my family, my relatives, and all of
my friends if I actually became a real DBE amputee? After a whole week of
constant and very serious soul-searching, and after answering each and every
one of those four questions with a definite YES, I decided that I 100%,
absolutely, positively did want to go through with my desired "cosmetic"
surgery. The very next day, Rob and I went to that medical clinic, and we
carefully finalized all of the necessary arrangements for the upcoming
"cosmetic" surgery that I desired. I was really going to attain my absolute
obsession, my #1 goal in life! I would soon become a real DBE amputee, and
I would then finally wear a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses
with twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks! I could hardly wait! Rob
could hardly wait, either!
Early one morning just two long weeks later, I was admitted to the
clinic. Even though it was a highly secretive business, it was still run by
a very skilled and very dedicated team of doctors and related medical
personnel who were interested in supplementing their incomes by doing any
kind of "cosmetic" surgery that their patients desired. Dr. "Smith," an
experienced orthopedic surgeon, was the doctor who was going to perform my
voluntary DBE amputations. He explained that he would amputate each of my
two hands about two inches above my wrists, thereby giving me a matching
pair of rounded eight-inch long arm stumps that would easily allow me to
wear a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks. He also told me that if I wished, before he finished
completing my DBE amputations, he could modify my twin arm stumps to make
them much more useful than normal DBE arm stumps, so I would be able to
easily function by using that matching pair of special arm stumps all by
themselves without any arm prostheses. I explained to Dr. "Smith" that I
simply wanted to be able to wear a matching pair of body-powered arm
prostheses with Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks, so I just wanted him to
give me a matching pair of rounded eight-inch long arm stumps without any
special modifications.
My surgery was promptly scheduled to be performed that very
afternoon, and Rob and I were both absolutely thrilled. A team of
experienced nurses prepared me for my "cosmetic surgery" and transported me
to a spotless and very modern operating room. I was very heavily sedated,
so I don't remember all that much about what actually occurred to me during
my operation. When I eventually awoke about two hours after the successful
completion of the "cosmetic" surgery to amputate my two hands, both of my
arms were heavily bandaged up to my elbows. Simply by looking at those
bandages, I could plainly see that I no longer had any hands, that I only
had a pair of matching arm stumps, each of which was about eight inches
long. Rob was waiting right beside me when I awoke, and he immediately
kissed me. We both smiled. This was most definitely the happiest moment of
my life! I was finally a real DBE amputee! I was now well on my way to
very soon being able to wear a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses
with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks!
For the next month, I did everything that I could to recover from my
"cosmetic" surgery as quickly as possible. My twin arm stumps were healing
very well, and each of them had a very nicely rounded end with a very small
scar. Rob helped me to do everything that I couldn't do by myself. He
helped to feed me and to bathe me, and he also helped me when I had to go to
the bathroom. I continued to follow Dr. "Smith's" directions exactly, so my
twin arm stumps healed very quickly. Soon my two matching arm stumps were
sufficiently healed for me to be able to use them to do quite a few simple
activities. I, as well as Rob, was anxiously awaiting the day when I would
be able to wear a pair of matching body-powered arm prostheses with twin
Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks. At last, the time finally came for me
to get my two matching arm stumps fitted for my pair of arm prostheses with
their hooks. Mr. "Jones," an experienced prosthetist, was the medical
expert who was going to make my pair of arm prostheses with their hooks. To
start with, he made a full-length plaster mold of each of my two arm stumps,
and he then explained that he would use those two molds to help make the
twin plastic sockets that my twin arm stumps would fit into. He then asked
me to select the prosthetic hooks and the prosthetic wrists that I wanted
for my twin arm prostheses, and I immediately selected Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks and Sierra multi-positional stainless steel wrists.
Mr. "Jones" said it would probably be close to a week before my matching
pair of body-powered arm prostheses with their twin hooks would be ready for
me to wear.
Both Rob and I waited very patiently, but the days seemed to drag by.
At last, the moment I had been anxiously waiting for ever since I saw
Michelle's beautiful arm prostheses with its Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook
finally arrived. Mr. "Jones" brought me my two arm prostheses. The
shoulder harness that I would have to wear to operate the twin hooks was
already attached to my two arm prostheses, and everything was brand new and
looked absolutely beautiful. I could hardly believe that these two matching
body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel
hooks were actually mine! Mr. "Jones" asked me to raise my two arm stumps,
and then he carefully pulled a special stump sock over each of my twin arm
stumps. Next he slipped each of my twin arm stumps into the matching socket
of its arm prosthesis. At that very moment, the wonderful feeling that I
was experiencing for the first, but certainly not the last, time in my life
was absolutely fabulous. Mr. "Smith" then very carefully adjusted my
shoulder harness. Both of my new arm prostheses fit perfectly and felt very
comfortable, and they both looked incredibly beautiful! My heart was
pounding! This was really the way that I would now be for the rest of my
entire life! I could hardly believe that I was a real DBE amputee who was
actually wearing a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin
Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks! Mr. "Smith" then proceeded to give me
more than two hours of personalized training related to using my two new arm
prostheses with their twin hooks. He showed me how to open my twin Dorrance
#5X stainless steel hooks and how they would close automatically, and he
also showed me how to properly angle and rotate my twin Sierra stainless
steel wrists in order to properly position my twin hooks for me to perform a
variety of common tasks. This initial training session was very thrilling
for me, and I was now well on my way to becoming very proficient at using my
matching pair of arm prostheses withtheir twin hooks. Of course, I
continued to undergo many more hours of individualized training and practice
using my pair of arm prostheses with their twin hooks, so I ended up staying
at the clinic for a total of six weeks. I spent as much time as I possibly
could each and every day using my pair of arm prostheses with their twin
hooks to do everything that I possibly could, and along with Rob and me, all
of the doctors and medical personnel at the clinic were extremely pleased at
my rapid and excellent progress.
The day soon came when I was finally discharged from the clinic. I
had become so proficient at doing very many things using my matching pair of
body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel
hooks that, except for when I had to put on my bra, I was able to get
completely dressed and undressed all by myself. I could even put on and
remove my own pair of arm prostheses with their twin hooks without any help
at all. Rob said that we were going out to dinner that very evening to
celebrate my accomplishments. We had not gone out since before I got my DBE
amputations because I didn't really want to be seen without any hands at all
and not wearing a pair of arm prostheses with hooks. I most definitely
wanted to show off my two matching arm prostheses with their twin hooks.
This would be a night that Rob and I would always remember. Before we
walked out of the clinic, I proudly looked in a full-length mirror and saw a
young woman who was wearing a pair of black shoes with six-inch high heels,
a matching pair of black nylons, a short and rather tight black skirt, and a
black short-sleeved blouse. That young woman, who was the "new" me, had
black hair that was highlighted with platinum blonde streaks, she was
wearing glasses with stainless steel frames, and she was wearing a beautiful
matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks. I had fantasized about looking just like this for
many years, and now my fantasy had finally become a reality. I was
definitely hooked on my twin hooks, and Rob was definitely hooked on my twin
hooks, too! Rob and I had both already decided that each of us would always
refer to my matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses simply as my
"prostheses" and NOT as my arms, that each of us would always refer to my
twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks simply as my "hooks" and NOT as my
hands, and that each of us would refer to what now remained of my two upper
limbs as my "stumps" and NOT as my arms. I didn't now, and I would never
again, have any arms or any hands because I now just had prostheses and
hooks and stumps!
We went to a nearby restaurant that was very popular. I wondered
what people's reactions would be when they saw me. Most people didn't seem
to pay too much attention to me because the lights in the restaurant were
fairly dim. The few people who did notice that I was wearing a matching
pair of arm prostheses with twin stainless steel hooks tried very hard not
to stare at me. The hostess seated us at a table that was in full view of
everyone in the restaurant. Our waitress, who couldn't have been much older
than Rob or me, was astonished when I reached out with my right stainless
steel hook to take the menu that she handed me, and she was even more
astonished when I then used my left stainless steel hook to open up the
menu. I ordered a sliced turkey dinner along with mashed potatoes,
dressing, a chef's salad, and all of the usual trimmings. I knew in advance
that I would be able to easily eat all of those things without any help,
even though I also knew that it would take me a little longer to eat my meal
than it would take for anyone who had two real hands and didn't have to use
the twin stainless steel hooks. Also, drinking my wine out of a
long-stemmed glass was also quite easy for me. I'm sure that I was the
center of attention for most of the restaurant patrons during my meal
because every time I looked around, someone seemed to be staring at me! No,
I wasn't at all embarrassed! Quite the contrary, I was absolutely thrilled
that people were staring at me while I used my matching pair of arm
prostheses with their twin hooks. All in all, our dinner was a very
enjoyable experience for both Rob and I, although we were both glad to
finally get back to our apartment for a good night's rest.
The next morning, Saturday, I awoke quite early because I was really
excited. I couldn't wait to get my pair of arm prostheses back on and start
using my twin hooks again. I gently rubbed Rob with my twin stumps and
quickly awakened him. He remarked that he wanted to give me a bath before
breakfast, and I replied to him that I was ready and waiting! I got into
the tub and used my twin stumps to close the drain and turn on the water.
When the tub had filled, I used my twin stumps to turn off the water. Then
Rob expertly washed my entire body, shampooed and rinsed my hair, and then
carefully dried me off. I needed Rob to help me put my bra on because it
was impossible for me to fasten the tiny hooks on the back of any regular
bra using either my two arm stumps or my twin hooks. I carefully put a
clean stump sock on each one of my two arm stumps and then put on my
shoulder harness and my pair of arm prostheses with their twin hooks. The
exhilarating thrill I get whenever I wear my matching pair of body-powered
arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks is
something that I'll never get tired of experiencing. I finished getting
dressed all by myself, including putting on a pair of my tight blue jeans
along with a new pair of cowboy boots. I completed my outfit by pulling on
a sweatshirt with sleeves that Rob had cut off just above the elbows, so my
twin arm prostheses with their twin stainless steel wrists, twin stainless
steel hooks, and twin stainless steel control cables were all plainly
visible. I looked into the full length mirror on the back of our
apartment's front door and was once again absolutely thrilled at my
appearance. I never before in my entire life ever looked so attractive! I
was much more attractive-looking now as a real DBE amputee than I had ever
been before when I still had my two real hands! Of course, I knew that even
though I thought that I was attractive-looking, and even though I knew that
Rob and some other men and women also would think that I was attractive-
looking, I also knew that most men and most women would always think that my
matching pair of arm prostheses with their twin hooks made me very
unattractive-looking!
I told Rob that I wanted to spend the entire day at the mall. I had
several things that I wanted to buy, and I really wanted to show off my
matching pair of arm prostheses with their twin hooks. I wasn't at all
worried about being seen in public. In fact, the stares that I receive from
most people always please me because they make me realize that I am an
extremely lucky young woman. There are very few women DBE amputees, and
there are even a lot fewer women DBE amputees who wear matching pairs of
body-powered arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks,
and I have the extraordinarily good fortune to be in that very small and
very elite group of women. However, the one thing that I really wished for
now was to sometime soon meet another young woman double-arm amputee,
particularly another young woman DBE amputee just like me! Little did I
know at the time, but my wish would be granted sooner than I could have ever
imagined.
We arrived at the mall quite early that morning. Of course, everyone
could see my two arm prostheses with their twin hooks sticking out of the
cut-off sleeves of my sweatshirt. We headed for one of my favorite clothing
stores. I wanted to buy a few pairs of jeans, and it was really fun to look
through the racks of jeans using both of my twin hooks. When I had selected
four pairs of jeans to try on, I walked over to one of the fitting rooms.
Before I went into the fitting room, I had Rob remove my cowboy boots. It's
relatively easy for me to put on my cowboy boots because they each have a
pair of leather loops that almost seemed to have been especially made for a
DBE amputee just like me who has twin hooks instead of two real hands.
Unfortunately, getting my cowboy boots off without any help from someone is
an extremely difficult task for me to accomplish. I found that all four of
the pairs of jeans that I tried on fit just perfectly -- nice and tight --
and after about twenty-five minutes, I was all dressed again, and I even put
on my cowboy boots all by myself. I was ready to pay for my purchases, so
Rob and I walked over to the checkout counter. The checkout clerk, a young
girl, was obviously embarrassed when she saw that I didn't have any hands,
only twin stainless steel hooks, as I placed my jeans in front of her.
Since manipulating money with my twin hooks is another one of those things
that's extremely difficult for me to do without help from someone, I let Rob
pay her, and she put my jeans into two separate plastic bags. She wasn't
sure if she should give the bags to me or to Rob. I helped her to avoid
another very embarrassing situation by saying that I would take both of the
bags. I opened my right hook and held it out in front of me, and the girl
very awkwardly slipped the handles of those two bags into my open right
hook. I let my hook automatically close, and then I lowered my hook along
with my two bags to my side and walked away. Rob and I then visited several
of my other favorite clothing stores, and I bought four beautiful sweaters
to match my four new pairs of jeans, and I tried on all four of the sweaters
to make sure that they would easily fit over my shoulder harness and my
matching pair of arm prostheses with their hooks. All four of those
sweaters had long sleeves that left the ends of both of my twin stainless
steel control cables, both of my twin stainless steel wrists, and also both
of my twin stainless steel hooks all totally exposed. The checkout clerk, a
young married woman, took the money from Rob, put my jeans into two separate
plastic bags, and placed the handles of those two bags into my open left
hook without being embarrassed, even though she did repeatedly stare at my
twin stainless steel hooks. I walked out of the store carrying two bags of
clothes with each of my twin hooks, and I managed to gather quite a few
astonishing stares from most of the people in the mall who saw me as Rob and
I walked along through the mall together.
Rob and I then decided to visit the food court to get a quick snack
because we were both hungry, and I still had more shopping to do. Rob
suggested that we first find a place to sit, and then he would get our food
while I put down all four of my plastic shopping bags. We found a vacant
table, and just as we were trying to decide what we wanted to order, I
noticed a very familiar-looking young woman who was seated just a few tables
away from us. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Michelle, the once
multiple amputee and now DBE amputee woman who had unknowingly helped
convince me to finally become a real DBE amputee! However, I was completely
surprised because, instead of seeing her wearing a pair of matching arm
prostheses with twin hooks, I saw that Michelle was not wearing any arm
prostheses at all, but that she was eating a sandwich using a matching pair
of the most unusual-looking arm stumps that I'd ever seen. Rob was as
surprised as I was. Michelle's DBE stumps both had what could best be
described as a pair of large "fingers" that each started about two inches
below her elbows and tapered over a length of about four inches down to a
rounded tip. Both of us just stared at Michelle, and we weren't quite sure
exactly what to do. I knew that I would have to go over and speak to her,
but I didn't know if she would remember me from our very brief meeting less
than three months ago. Did I dare to show Michelle that I now had twin
Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks instead of two real hands, and that I was
now and that I would forever always be, just like her, a real DBE amputee?
Did I dare to say anything to Michelle about the fact that she was now a
real DBE amputee, just like me? Did I dare to say anything to Michelle
about the very unusual-looking arm stumps and their pairs of large "fingers"
that she now had? Lastly, did I dare to ask Michelle if she was able to
wear a matching pair of arm prostheses with twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum
hooks?
We both walked over to Michelle. I reintroduced myself to her, and I
introduced Rob to her also. She looked at me with shocked surprise, and
then she shook my right stainless steel hook with the very unusual pair of
large "fingers" of her right arm stump. She was obviously just as surprised
to see that I was now a real DBE amputee with twin hooks and a matching pair
of arm prostheses as I was to see that she was now a real DBE amputee with
an unusual pairs of large "fingers" on each of her matching pair of arm
stumps! Amazingly, since the chances of one young woman DBE amputee meeting
another young woman DBE amputee in public are extraordinarily slim, it was
almost totally unbelievable that here we were, two young women DBE amputees
together in the very same place at the very same time. I was not at all
surprised that Michelle did remember me and our short conversation of just a
few short months before. I must have left Michelle with quite a lasting
first impression of me, just as she left me with quite a lasting first
impression of her.
Michelle immediately proceeded to show both Rob and me her two
matching arm stumps, and then she explained to both of us all about the two
unusual pairs of large "fingers" that she had . "My orthopedic surgeon, Dr.
Smith, not only amputated what little remained of my useless left hand just
about three months ago, but, at the same time, he also modified both of my
arm stumps to give me what medical people refer to as Krukenberg stumps.
Each of my Krukenberg stumps has two large 'fingers' that have been formed
by separating my two forearm bones and attaching my arm muscles to them. I
now can use each of my pairs of strong 'fingers' in place of the two real
hands that I used to have. I'm still adapting to them and learning how to
use them, but I'm extremely pleased with how really useful my two pairs of
Krukenberg 'fingers' are. Of course, my prosthetist, Mr. Jones, fitted me
with a matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses that fit over my
Krukenberg stumps, and I usually wear them most of the time. That pair
matching arm prostheses has twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum hooks, and those
twin hooks allow me to do some things a that I can't really do by using
these pairs of Krukenberg 'fingers' of mine. I'm not wearing that pair of
arm prostheses with their twin hooks today because I want to get some more
practice using my Krukenberg 'fingers' to do a lot of the things that I can
already easily do with my twin aluminum hooks. Unfortunately, I see that
you've also quite recently become a DBE amputee, although you certainly seem
to have adjusted quite quickly to using your two matching arm prostheses
with their twin stainless steel hooks. How long have you been a DBE
amputee, and what type of traumatic illness or injury did you suffer that
unfortunately caused you to lose both of your hands?"
I replied as seriously as I could, "About two weeks after I
originally met you, I suffered a terrible accident while I was working with
Rob, and each of my two hands had to be amputated about two inches above my
wrists. Fortunately, the surgeon who performed my amputations was the very
same Dr. Smith who is also your orthopedic surgeon. I was only released
from the hospital two days ago, but my prosthetist, who is the very same Mr.
Jones who is also your prosthetist, did such an excellent job of fitting me
with my matching pair of prosthetic arms with their twin hooks that I've
been able to pretty much get back to many of my normal activities quite
quickly. Isn't it an amazing coincidence that each one of us has the very
same orthopedic surgeon as well as the very same prosthetist?" I then quite
deliberately winked at both Michelle and at Rob. All three of us knew just
exactly what had really happened to both Michelle and to me!
Michelle winked back at both Rob and at me and commented, "It
certainly is quite a coincidence that we both have been helped by Dr. Smith
and Mr. Jones. Each of us is certainly very fortunate to have both an
orthopedic surgeon and a prosthetist who have obviously done such
exceptional work on our DBE amputations and our twin arm prostheses! Why
don't you and Rob sit down here and eat with me? I think that the three of
us have quite a few things that we would all very much enjoy talking about!"
Rob and I joined Michelle, and the three of us had an enjoyable lunch
together. We talked a little, but none of us talked at all about any of the
specific details of either Michelle's amputations and surgeries or my
amputations. I especially enjoyed watching Michelle eat the rest of her
lunch because she was using her matching pairs of Krukenberg "fingers" with
just as much skill and dexterity as I had using my pair of stainless steel
hooks. And Rob also especially enjoyed watching both of us eat our lunches.
He was very obviously continually comparing how Michelle ate her sandwich
using her twin pairs of Krukenberg "fingers" with how I ate my own sandwich
using my twin pair of stainless steel hooks. When all of us were finished
eating, Michelle invited both Rob and me to come over to her apartment that
evening to meet her husband, Steve, and to have dinner with them. Rob and I
both agreed to get together with Michelle and Steve at eight o'clock, so
Michelle gave us their address. All three of us obviously knew that we had
a lot of very important things to talk about, and we all knew that Steve
needed to be an active participant in our conversation! Rob and I then said
good-bye to Michelle, and we spent the rest of the afternoon together at the
mall while I finishing shopping. As soon as I was done, we went back to
our apartment to get ready for our dinner engagement with Michelle and
Steve.
I changed into my favorite black short-sleeved dress that ended well
above my knees, and I slipped on my pair of black six-inch high heel shoes.
I hadn't worn that dress since I got my DBE amputations, and it left every
single inch of my matching arm prostheses with their twin stainless steel
hooks in plain view. I wanted to be sure that both Michelle and Steve would
undoubtedly know how extremely proud I am to have voluntarily become a real
DBE amputee who wears a beautiful matching pair of body-powered arm
prostheses with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks!
We arrived at Michelle's and Steve's apartment a little more than an
hour early and were cordially greeted by Michelle, who was now wearing her
matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5XA
aluminum hooks. We went inside of their apartment, and then Michelle
introduced us to her husband, Steve. Steve was just as nice as Michelle,
and he eagerly shook my right stainless steel hook with his right hand as he
complimented me on how attractive-looking I was. Michelle, as usual, was
dressed very fashionably. She was wearing a black short-sleeved top along
with a matching black short skirt, along with a pair of black six-inch high
heel shoes. Rob complimented Michelle on how attractive-looking she was,
and he also commented that she looked equally attractive with her twin pairs
of Krukenberg "fingers" when she was not wearing her twin arm prostheses
with their hooks. All four of us were very eager to spend some time
together talking about our common interests.
Michelle led us into their living room, and Steve brought out some
refreshments for us. As soon as all four of us were comfortable, Michelle
proceeded to tell Rob and me the true story of her multiple amputations.
Just like me, Michelle had been an amputee wannabe for as long as she could
remember. Like Rob, she had found out about the same special medical clinic
where I had gotten my "cosmetic" surgery. At first, she had only elected to
have her thumb and her four other fingers on her right hand completely
amputated. Within a year after she had gotten those amputations, she wanted
to get further amputations, so she then elected to have her thumb and her
four other fingers on her left hand completely amputated. It was while she
was a multiple amputee who was completely missing both of her thumbs and all
eight of her remaining fingers that she met Steve. Like Rob, he was a
devotee of women arm amputees, and Michelle and Steve soon began dating each
other exclusively. In less than a year, they had fallen in love and gotten
married. After their honeymoon, Michelle decided to get her first major
amputation, so she elected to have what little remained of her right hand
amputated six inches below her elbow. After she had recovered from that
amputation and had become quite skilled at using her RBE body-powered arm
prosthesis with its Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook, Michelle decided to get yet
another major amputation. It was at this time that I first met and talked
to her at the mall. The very next day after we first met, Michelle elected
to have what little remained of her left hand also amputated six inches
below her elbow. In addition to that amputation, Michelle also had both of
her arm stumps modified into what the medical profession refers to as
Krukenberg stumps, so each of them had a matching pair of four-inch long
"fingers" that she could effectively use in place of a pair of arm
prostheses with twin hooks. Michelle was now extremely satisfied with the
twin Krukenberg "fingers" of each of her two matching arm stumps, and, at
least for the time being, she said that she probably didn't want to get any
further major amputations. What Michelle liked the most about her matching
pairs of Krukenberg "fingers" was that she could not only feel what she was
grasping with them, but that she also could very easily control the amount
of grasping force that she could exert with them. Those are two major
advantages that Michelle has over a DBE amputee like me, since I not only
cannot feel what I'm grasping with my twin stainless steel hooks, and I also
cannot easily control the amount of grasping force that they exert. I
control the opening of each of my twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks
with my shoulder muscles, but the amount of grasping force that each of my
twin hooks exerts is totally controlled by the number of elastic power bands
that are on it.
I then truthfully explained to Michelle and Steve that, like
Michelle, I voluntarily had my two hands amputated, except that both of my
hands were amputated at the very same time just two inches above my wrists.
I further explained that I had specifically chosen to have my DBE
amputations done in one single operation, and that also, at least for the
time being, I probably didn't really want to get my twin arm stumps modified
into Krukenberg stumps with matching pairs of "fingers" that would be
similar to the ones that Michelle now had. Michelle told me that she agreed
that I had obviously made an excellent choice to have both of my hands
amputated at the very same time, and she also explained to me that if I ever
did decide to go back to Dr. Smith and have each of my twin arm stumps
modified into Krukenberg stumps, each of my matching pairs of "fingers"
would be six inches long, which would make them two inches longer than hers.
She assured me that matching Krukenberg stumps with pairs of twin "fingers"
that long would even be more useful than hers. Michelle's only complaint
about her twin Krukenberg stumps was that she couldn't open her matching
pairs of "fingers" far enough for her to grasp a lot of rather large objects
that she can quite easily grasp with her twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum hooks.
The rest of our evening together was a very pleasant experience for
all four of us. Michelle had prepared an excellent roast beef dinner along
with several different side dishes, and we all enjoyed the delicious food as
we spent several enjoyable hours sharing our thoughts on amputations, DBE
arm stumps, the many various advantages and the few disadvantages of two
matching Krukenberg stumps with twin pairs of "fingers" compared to a
matching pair of conventional body-powered arm prostheses with twin hooks,
the advantages and the disadvantages of using Dorrance hooks compared to
using other non-hook prosthetic devices, myoelectric arm prostheses,
cosmetic arm prostheses, etc., etc. Both Steve and Rob agreed that both
Michelle and I looked exceptionally attractive wearing our matching pairs of
body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance hooks. They also both
readily agreed that Michelle looked just as attractive with her two matching
Krukenberg stumps with their twin pairs of "fingers" when she was not
wearing her matching pair of arm prostheses with their hooks. And Steve and
Rob finally agreed if I ever decided to have my twin arm stumps modified
into Krukenberg stumps with matching twin pairs of "fingers" that I would
look just a attractive with them as I now look with my pair of matching arm
prostheses with their twin stainless steel hooks. Our enjoyable evening
eventually came to an end, and Rob and I finally said good-bye to Michelle
and Steve shortly before midnight and quickly returned to our apartment to
get another good night's sleep.
During the past year, life for Rob and me has been much better than
we ever could have possibly dreamed. I am now extremely proficient at using
my matching pair of body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks. I can do just about anything with my twin hooks that
a normal person can do with his/her two real hands. However, to be
perfectly honest, it is always a little more difficult and a little more
time-consuming for me to accomplish most things that a normal person can
more easily and more quickly do with his/her two real hands. Even though
I'll never be able to do everything with my twin hooks that I would be able
to do if I still had my two real hands, I have never even for a moment
wished that I could have my two real hands back. Ever since I got them,
I've been hooked on my twin hooks, and I'll always be hooked on my twin
hooks. At least for the time being, I am completely satisfied with my twin
stumps and my matching pair of arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5X
stainless steel hooks.
Rob and I continue to socialize with Michelle and Steve, and Michelle
and I still go places together quite frequently. Michelle and I really like
to go shopping and do all of the many other things that most women commonly
do together. Michelle has now formed the habit of wearing her matching pair
of body-powered arm prostheses with their twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum hooks
whenever she goes places with me. Both of us always get a lot of stares,
comments, and questions from people because each one of us is a real DBE
amputee woman who wears a matching pair of arm prostheses with twin metal
hooks. Quite honestly, we really do enjoy all of the stares, and we always
try to respond to each comment and answer each question as sincerely and as
honestly as we possibly can. We often wonder what other people are honestly
thinking, but are most probably too embarrassed to say to us or ask us, as
they watch both of us using our matching pairs of arm prostheses with their
twin metal hooks. And once, a very handsome-looking young man very
seriously asked us, "Were you two sisters the only ones in your family who
were born without hands?" We both had a good laugh after hearing that
question! Michelle told the man that we weren't sisters at all, that she
was born with two perfectly normal hands, and that both of her hands were
amputated as the result of her contacting a severe viral infection.
Additionally, I told the man that we were indeed not sisters, but we were
just very good friends, that I was also born with two perfectly normal
hands, and that both of my hands were amputated as the result of my
suffering an unfortunate accident. That man made us realize that we really
do look very much like sisters! We appear to be the same height, even
though Michelle is really one inch taller than me. We both have straight
black hair that is shoulder length and is highlighted with platinum streaks.
Our facial features are very similar, even though I wear glasses all of the
time and Michelle has never worn glasses. Our figures are just about
identical, and we can each wear almost all of each other's clothing, so we
often each dress very similarly. Our twin body prostheses with their twin
metal hooks are virtually identical, the only difference being that
Michelle's twin Sierra wrists and twin Dorrance #5XA hooks are made from
aluminum while my twin Sierra wrists and twin Dorrance #5X hooks are made
from stainless steel. To be totally honest, both Michelle and I surely
wouldn't mind if we really were sisters!
Michelle has just recently stopped going out in public at all any
more with just her two matching Krukenberg arm stumps with their twin pairs
of "fingers" because she now very much prefers to wear a brand new pair of
specially designed arm prostheses with twin hooks that don't require her to
wear any shoulder harness at all and also don't require each of her twin
hooks to have any external stainless steel control cable at all. Her new
pair of arm prostheses is specifically designed to enable her to both open
and close each of her twin Dorrance #5XA aluminum hooks by simply moving
each of her Krukenberg arm stump's pairs of strong "fingers" to operate its
internal control for its aluminum hook. Even though Michelle's new pair of
arm prostheses with their hooks certainly look very sleek and modern and
they function flawlessly, they still require that she rotate and/or angle
each of her twin prosthetic wrists with her opposite hook. I really do like
the looks of her new pair of arm prostheses, and I especially like the way
that they can be easily operated without requiring either any shoulder
harness or any external control cables. However, my present twin arm stumps
will not allow me to operate prostheses like Michelle's new pair, unless, of
course, I was to have them modified into matching Krukenberg stumps with
twin pairs of "fingers" very similar to the ones that Michelle has.
I'm as happy now as I ever imagined that I could possibly be,
although I sometimes wonder if there is anything else that I could do that
would make me even happier than I am now. Would I be happier than I am now
if I had my twin arm stumps modified into matching Krukenberg stumps with
twin pairs of "fingers" that would each be about six inches long? Would I
be happier than I am now if I had to wear a matching pair of arm prostheses
with twin Dorrance #5X stainless steel hooks that I could simply operate
with the twin pairs of "fingers" of a matching pair of modified Krukenberg
stumps? I have some more very serious soul-searching to do before I can
honestly answer each of those two questions! Rob and I have just begun
talking about how wonderful it probably would be, and how much happier I
probably would be if I had my twin arm stumps modified into matching
Krukenberg stumps with twin pairs of "fingers" that would each be about six
inches long, so I could then wear a brand new pair of specially designed arm
prostheses with twin hooks just like the one that Michelle wears now!
[TO BE CONTINUED ? ? ?]
[*****]
ROB AND CAROLE'S DREAM DATE
(by Carole -- 04/15/01)
[A friend of mine originally suggested the idea for this story to me. Thank
you, Kate, for inspiring me to write this story. While some of his story is
real, much of this story is only fiction. I really wish that this story was
totally real!]
Carole and Rob had both been teaching at the Saint Joseph's Junior
High School for almost three months, and during the very short time that
they had known one another, they had developed a very good friendship.
Their friendship was destined to become even better on the day when Rob
walked unannounced into Carole's ex ed classroom. "Miss Zakrzewski, may I
speak with you for a moment?"
"Yes, Mr. Casler." Carole got up from her desk and followed Rob out
into the hallway, leaving the students who were staying after school seated
at their desks.
"Carole, I've got two tickets for 'The Amazing Kreskin' show tonight
at the new convention center. Would you like to go with me to see Kreskin's
performance, and then perhaps go out to dinner with me afterwards?"
"Thanks, Rob, I'd really like to go with you to see Kreskin. He's a
true 'mentalist' who doesn't use any trickery or fakery to perform any of
his amazing feats. And going out to dinner with you afterwards would make
an enjoyable evening much more enjoyable. Even though you and I know each
other rather well, we can still truthfully call this a 'blind' date. You
know that I'm essentially blind without my glasses because of my visual
handicap, and I know that you're essentially blind to all of this 'hardware'
that I have to wear because of my physical handicap."
"Thanks for accepting my invitation, Carole. It'll take us a little
more than an hour to drive to the auditorium, so we need to leave by no
later than four-thirty because Kreskin's one and only performance tonight
starts promptly at six. That means that we'll have dinner sometime after
eight. If you like Italian food, Salvatore's Ristorante has some of the
best traditional Italian meals that you'll find anywhere, so I'd like to
take you there. You don't need to wear anything special, in fact, I'd like
to see you dressed in casual clothes for once."
"That'll be great, Rob. Casual attire is certainly fine with me.
I've never been to Salvatore's before, but I really like traditional Italian
food, so I'm sure that I'll really enjoy going there. I'll be ready by
four. Let's go in my new Mustang - I'll even let you drive her, as long as
you promise to drive very carefully!"
"You must like me, Carole, at least a little bit, since you're
willing to let me drive your new Mustang. I've decided that my next car
will be a silver Mustang just like your new one. Anyway, if we're going to
go in you car, then I'll be able to remove the battery from my old Mustang
so that I can recharge it while we're gone. Yes, I promise that I'll drive
your new Mustang very carefully, and I'll even obey all of the speed limits!
I'll meet you at your apartment around four."
"I'll have my silver horse all ready for you, Rob. Wouldn't you like
me to pick you up at your apartment?"
"Thanks, Carole, but you don't really need to pick me up. It'll take
me less than five minutes to walk over to your place."
Carole then returned to her classroom to help her students complete
all of the work that they had been staying after school to finish. As soon
as all of her students had completed their assignments, Carole promptly
dismissed them, and then she went to her car and drove the short distance to
her apartment.
Carole was extremely excited because she had not been out on a date
in almost a year, and Rob, the new boys' phys ed teacher, was definitely as
handsome as any boyfriend that she had ever gone out with in her entire
life. Carole wanted very much to do everything that she could possibly do
to make sure that her first date with Rob would be a "dream date" that would
not only be enjoyable for both of them, but would also be their first of
many more dates to come. After she had showered and dried herself and her
glasses off, Carole put on all of her "hardware" along with her panties, her
specially designed brassiere, and her customary white short sleeve t-shirt.
As the first items of her casual attire, Carole put on a new pair of her
tight blue jeans that had special side zippers and also a new pair of her
white basketball shoes that also had special side zippers. To complete her
casual look, Carole then slipped on her very best white cashmere v-neck
sweater. Carole knew that wearing that particular sweater would definitely
draw people's attention to all of her "hardware" and her very obvious
physical handicap, just like she knew that always keeping her long, dark
blonde hair carefully pushed behind her shoulders would also definitely draw
people's attention to her very distinctive glasses and her very obvious
visual handicap. However, Carole had always preferred to emphasize her two
different handicaps rather than to hide them. She had just finished getting
dressed when Rob arrived at her apartment, almost fifteen minutes early, so
Carole quickly picked up her purse and greeted him at the door. Rob was
also wearing a pair of blue jeans, a pair of white basketball shoes, and a
white v-neck sweater over a white t-shirt. Surprisingly, neither Rob nor
Carole had told one another ahead of time exactly what each of them had
planned to wear! It was almost as if Carole and Rob had read each other's
minds! "Carole, you look just as beautiful now as you did the very first
time that I saw you. You certainly know how to dress quite attractively for
any occasion! I've never seen you wearing those jeans before. I just
decided to wear these clothes at the very last minute. What prompted you to
wear such a similar outfit, Carole?"
"Thank you for the nice comments, Rob. The reason that I picked this
outfit is that all of these clothes are easy for me to get on, and I didn't
want to be late for our first date. Of course, women usually take a lot
longer than men to get themselves dressed, and because of all of this
'hardware' of mine that I have to wear, you should know that it takes me a
lot longer than most other women to get dressed, even with these special
zippers on my Levis and my Nikes. Fortunately, I'm not wearing any of the
clothes that I normally would wear to school, or I'd probably still be
getting dressed at this time. Here are my car keys. Be careful of the
'lock' and 'unlock' buttons on the remote keyless entry module because
they're both extremely sensitive. Just in case you're wondering, Rob, I
must tell you that my new Mustang doesn't have any 'handicap' modifications
at all, except for the two special steering rings that I've had mounted on
the steering wheel. Even though I pretty much have to use both of them in
order to drive with all of this 'hardware' of mine, you don't have to use
the steering wheel rings if you don't want to, and you shouldn't have any
problems at all driving my silver horse."
They walked over to her new car, and Rob opened the passenger door
for Carole. After she was seated, Rob closed her door, and then he got into
the driver's seat. He buckled his seatbelt, helped Carole buckle her seat
belt, and then he started the engine of her silver Mustang. Their drive to
the convention center took about an hour. Rob had to park Carole's car in
one of the regular parking spaces because Carole had refused to get
handicapped plates or a handicapped decal for it. Carole grasped Rob's hand
and walked with him the short distance to the center, and they were
comfortably seated in the spacious auditorium shortly before five-thirty.
Carole's seat was next to the center aisle, and Rob's seat was directly next
to hers. "Carole, would you care for a stick of wintergreen gum?"
"Yes, please, if you don't mind unwrapping it for me, Rob."
Rob unwrapped the stick of gum for Carole, and she took it from him
and skillfully put it into her mouth. They talked quietly until Kreskin
appeared on stage, exactly at six. Both Rob and Carole had seen Kreskin
before, but this performance of his was especially spectacular, and, as
usual, he selected people from the audience to assist him. Carole's visual
handicap was so severe that, in order to see his entire performance, she had
to continually move her head in order to follow Kreskin's constant movements
on stage. Carole's physical handicap was so severe that, in order for her
to applaud, she had to clap very "silently" in order to prevent all of her
"hardware" from making unpleasant "clanking" noises. For his grand finale,
Kreskin needed one last person to assist him, and he selected Carole. First
he had her remove his glasses and place a mask tightly over his eyes, and
then he had Carole slowly lead him by the hand all around the auditorium
while he tried to visualize where his paycheck had been hidden. In less
than five minutes, he had easily found his paycheck, and he thanked Carole
by autographing a large photo and handing it to her. The photo showed
Kreskin sitting on a stool and Carole standing behind him as she was
carefully removing his glasses. Carole thanked him as she shook his hand,
and the audience very graciously gave both Kreskin and Carole a rousing
round of applause. Carole's visual and physical handicaps had already
attracted everybody's attention, and now they attracted even more attention
as she stood next to Kreskin on center stage, smiling while she was holding
up the photo and waving to the crowd. Amazingly, Carole was obviously not
the least bit self-conscious or the least bit ashamed of either of her
severe handicaps!
So far, Rob and Carole's first date had been a very enjoyable
experience for both of them, and their dinner afterwards at the very popular
and very busy Salvatore's Ristorante was an equally enjoyable experience as
well. At the conclusion of their meal, Carole confided to Rob that she
hadn't had a better time being with anyone since her unfortunate accident.
Each of Carole's severe visual and severe physical handicaps, as obvious as
they were, had attracted a lot of attention from people in the auditorium
and at the restaurant, yet neither Carole nor Rob was bothered by any of
that attention. Since Carole had already spent all of her life finding ways
to overcome and to minimize her severe visual handicap, she already knew how
to successfully overcome life's inevitable setbacks before she unfortunately
suffered the accident that caused her severe physical handicap. Carole had
spent almost three months after her accident doing a tremendous amount of
very difficult and very demanding physical rehabilitation, and now she
continued to work extremely diligently to adapt to and to overcome her
physical handicap. As proud as she was of the results of all of her hard
work, Carole was even prouder of the fact that she was still a successful
and an attractive young woman largely because of, and not in spite of, her
severe visual handicap and her severe physical handicap!
Carole and Rob had already learned a lot more about each other as a
result of the many conversations that they had already engaged in. Carole,
who was just about twenty-two, found out that she was only two months
younger than Rob, who had just turned twenty-two a week ago. Although both
Carole and Rob had numerous relatives, neither one of them had any brothers
or any sisters. Rob learned that his very strict Irish-Catholic upbringing
was not very much different than Carole's equally strict Polish-Catholic
upbringing. Most importantly, Rob and Carole were pleased that they both
shared a conservative outlook on life, that they both shared a lifelong
passion for working with children, and that they both had quite a few other
similar interests that they could easily enjoy together.
As Rob was driving Carole back to her apartment, Carole was trying to
decide if tonight should be the time when she would finally show Rob just
how severe both of her handicaps really were. Rob very carefully positioned
Carole's Mustang in her assigned parking spot, shut off its engine, and then
handed Carole her car keys. "Rob, I can't thank you enough for taking me to
see Kreskin and also for treating me to a very wonderful dinner at
Salvatore's. If you don't mind, I'd really like you to spend a little more
time with me tonight. I think that we need to get to know one another just
a little better, and, much more importantly, I also think that you need to
actually see the 'real' me."
"Tomorrow's Saturday, and it's just a little past eleven now, so
that'll be fine with me, Carole. I'm in no hurry to get back to my
apartment." Rob was somewhat intrigued by what Carole had just said, even
though he was a little apprehensive about honoring her request. Carole
grasped Rob's hand and walked with him to the front door of her apartment,
and then she punched in the proper combination of numbers to unlock her
special electronic door lock. Carole pushed open the door, and keeping her
grasp on Rob's hand, she led him into her livingroom as several lights
automatically came on and the door automatically swung closed. As she let
go of his hand, Carole looked directly at Rob.
"Rob, you've been absolutely wonderful to me ever since the very
first day that we met, and you've been especially wonderful to me tonight,
so I believe that I owe it to you to show you just how severe both of my
handicaps are. I'd like to start by showing you everything about my visual
handicap. Here, open up my purse and take out all of my paper money. Now
go and stand right beside my television set and hold up one bill - and don't
tell me what denomination it is - so that I can see the back of it. I'm
standing with my back against the front door, and I know that you're
standing exactly twenty feet away from me. I know that you're holding up a
five-dollar bill because I can plainly see the green "5" in its lower right
hand corner. Now hand me all of my paper money, and let's switch our
positions. I'll select a bill and hold it up so that you can see the back
of it. Now you tell me what the green number is that's in the lower right
hand corner of this bill."
"Carole, I can plainly see the green '10' in its lower right hand
corner, so I know that you're holding up a ten-dollar bill."
"Rob, neither of us had any trouble at all seeing the large numbers
on the backs of those bills. You know that I was born severely myopic -
nearsighted - and you know that I must wear my glasses with their thick
lenses in order to have normal 20/20 vision. Now I'll take off my glasses
and carefully hang them in the v-neck of my sweater, so I'll know exactly
where they are. Here, select another bill - and don't tell me what
denomination it is - and bring it over to me. Don't try to hand it to me,
just hold the back of it right in front of my face. You're going to have to
hold it extremely close to my eyes in order for me to be able to see it.
The bill's only about two inches from my eyes, and I can just barely read
the green "5" in its lower right hand corner, so I know that it's another
five-dollar bill. What I've just shown you is that I'm essentially blind if
I'm not wearing my glasses. Honestly, what I can just barely see at a
distance of only two inches from my eyes, like the largest and darkest
number on the back of a piece of U. S. paper money, everybody with normal
20/20 vision can very easily see at a distance of twenty feet from their
eyes! And if I didn't know that my glasses were in the v-neck of my
sweater, then I'd never be able to find them because without my glasses, I
honestly can't see anything at all unless it's literally right in front of
my nose. Of course, because I'm so severely myopic, I actually have
magnified close-up vision that allows me to see very minute details when I
look at something that is only an inch or two away from my eyes. On the
front of this five-dollar bill, I can clearly see that the phrase 'THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA' appears in three different places. Can you find
all three of those places?" As Carole very carefully put her glasses back
on, Rob scrutinized both the front and the back of the five-dollar bill.
"I can see 'THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA' on the front of this bill,
to the right of Lincoln's portrait and just above the green Treasury seal,
and I can also see it on the back of this bill, on the top border, but I
honestly don't see that phrase in any other places anywhere else on either
the front or the back of this bill, Carole."
"Yes, Rob, that phrase does appear on the back of the bill, but if
you look very closely on the left side and on the right side of the word
'LINCOLN' that's below Honest Abe's portrait on the front of the bill, you
should be able to see that phrase two more times. The two 'UNITED STATES OF
AMERICA' phrases are so very small that they almost blend in with the border
around his portrait."
"Wow, Carole, you're right. But the printing is so minute that it's
really difficult for me to read. I almost need to use a magnifying glass in
order to read it. With your severe myopia, how can you possibly see it so
easily and so clearly?"
"Although my severe myopia completely blurs everything that is any
farther than two inches from my eyes, it very effectively magnifies
everything that is any closer than two inches from my eyes, Rob. Since I
was born with my severe myopia, it's always been just 'normal' vision for
me, but any doctor would definitely tell you that my severe myopia is
actually extremely 'abnormal' vision."
"Carole, I always knew that your vision without your glasses was not
very good, but I had absolutely no idea how severe your myopia really is.
However, I do know how beautiful your two eyes are because they look so
small and so alluring when you're wearing your glasses. Not only have your
glasses with their thick lenses always attracted my attention, but also the
way both of your eyes look so fascinating to me when I see them through
those lenses has always attracted my attention. Carole, you don't have to
answer these questions of mine if you don't want to. Since you're so
severely myopic, just what would you do if your glasses ever get lost or
broken? And how come you don't ever wear contact lenses, at least some of
the time, instead of wearing your glasses all of the time?"
"Honestly, Rob, my eyes aren't as beautiful as yours are, but I
certainly appreciate your complimenting me on them. People have always said
that both of my eyes look very small, but nobody before has ever said that
both of my eyes look alluring and fascinating. I also must tell you that,
in addition to my severe myopia, I have substantially limited peripheral
vision. That's why I was continually moving my head to closely follow
Kreskin as he constantly moved around on the stage during his performance
tonight. I pretty much have to be looking directly at something in order to
see it with 20/20 clarity, especially if it's more than a few feet in front
of my eyes. As soon as you get the chance to ride in a car with me when I'm
driving, you'll see that I always continually move my head, so I'm always
looking directly at what I need to see. Remember that you're here with me
now because I want you to know everything about both of my handicaps, so
please don't hesitate at all to ask me any questions about them. I must
tell you that, besides this pair of glasses that I'm wearing now, I also
have four more 'spare' pairs of glasses. I keep one of those pairs in the
back right-hand corner of the top drawer of my teacher's desk at school. I
keep another one of those pairs in the right side of the glovebox of my
Mustang. I keep another one of those pairs in the back right-hand corner of
the top drawer of my bedroom nightstand. And I always carry one 'emergency'
pair of glasses with me everywhere I go. Rob, haven't you noticed that I
always carry this small aluminum glasses case with me all of the time?
That's because it holds my pair of 'emergency' glasses, and I never go
anywhere at all without them!"
"Carole, I always thought that you carried your eye makeup in that
aluminum case. I honestly never realized that you use it to carry a pair of
'emergency' glasses."
Carole laughed hysterically. "Just think for a moment, Rob. I can't
put any eye makeup on with my glasses on because my glasses would be in the
way, and I can't put any eye makeup on with my glasses off because I'm blind
without my glasses. So just how am I supposed to put any eye makeup on?
And just when have you ever seen me wearing any eye makeup, or even any
makeup at all?"
"I'm sorry, Carole. Please forgive me for not thinking!
Incidentally, I really like the fact that you look so beautiful without
needing to wear any makeup at all!"
"I thank you for your compliments, Rob, and I accept your apology!
After all, I know that you're not really very familiar with makeup,
particularly eye makeup. Anyway, I've never really liked to wear any makeup
at all! As far as my wearing contact lenses is concerned, I've tried
wearing a lot of different kinds of contact lenses in the past, and I've
never been able to wear any of them for more than a few hours before they
started to really irritate my eyes. Besides, I've never worn any contact
lenses that have given me the normal 20/20 vision that all of my pairs of
glasses give me. Lastly, Rob, just think again for a moment. As blind as I
am without my glasses, and also as handicapped as I am with all of this
'hardware' of mine that I wear, just how am I supposed to get any kind of
contact lenses into my eyes without damaging the contact lenses, without
damaging my eyes, or without damaging both the contact lenses and my eyes?"
"Carole, please accept my further apologies. I promise to think for
at least a minute before I ask you any more questions about either of your
handicaps!"
"Oh Rob, I should apologize to you for expecting you to know about
contact lenses when you've never even worn them yourself. As I've already
said, please don't ever hesitate to ask me any questions at all that you
have concerning either one of my severe handicaps. Now, please sit down and
make yourself comfortable. I'll have to ask you to excuse me for just a few
minutes while I take off all of this 'hardware' of mine that I'm wearing
because I need to make myself a little more comfortable. Don't worry, Rob,
I'll keep every bit of my clothing on except for my sweater, and I won't
even remove this white t-shirt that I'm wearing over my white brassiere."
Rob needed to think about a few things for a moment, so he sat down as
Carole walked past him and went into her bedroom. Rob waited patiently for
what seemed like a long time, but it was actually no more than about five
minutes before he heard Carole's voice. "Rob, please come in here for just
a few minutes." Rob got up and hesitantly walked into Carole's bedroom.
Carole was standing by the side of her bed, and the only things that she had
on above her waist were her glasses, her white brassiere, and her white
short sleeve t-shirt. "Now, Rob, you can finally see the 'real' me. You
can plainly see what I really look like without all of my 'hardware' that I
normally wear all of the time. Do you still think that I'm as beautiful now
as you said that I was when you met me at my apartment this afternoon?"
"Honestly, Carole, I think that you're every bit as beautiful now as
you were this afternoon. In fact, you're much more beautiful the way that
you are now than I ever thought any woman could ever possibly be!" Carole
stood almost motionless as Rob carefully examined her entire body with his
eyes. Carole definitely had a very attractive and a very athletic body.
Rob knew that Carole was about five foot ten, and he guessed that Carole
probably weighed somewhere around one hundred twenty-five pounds after she
had taken off all of the "hardware" that she normally wore. Rob saw that
Carole had a pair of well-developed breasts, a slim waist, a pair of nicely
rounded hips, and two very shapely legs. Rob had already seen just how
visually handicapped Carole was as the result of her being born with severe
myopia. Now Rob could see just how severely physically handicapped Carole
was as the result of the accident that she had suffered just a few months
ago. With all of her "hardware" removed, it was painfully obvious that
Carole didn't have any hands or any wrists at all. After
taking off her
pair of artificial arms with their two hooks, all that now remained of both
of Carole's lower arms was just a pair of eight-inch long forearm stumps
with smoothly rounded ends that still showed the faint but quite obvious
scars from her accident! Rob could now plainly see that Carole was
definitely a beautiful DBE - double-below-elbow - amputee! "You're
absolutely just as beautiful now when you're not wearing both of your
artificial arms and their two hooks as you are when you're wearing them,
Carole."
"Rob, do you honestly mean it when you say that these two scarred
forearm stumps of mine are really beautiful, or are you just saying that to
me because you're really only attracted to the rest of my body?"
"What I said is just what I honestly mean, Carole. Yes, your entire
body is really incredibly beautiful, but no part of your entire body is more
beautiful than your two beautiful and severely myopic eyes and your two
beautiful and completely handless forearm stumps. You probably don't
realize this, but I was interested in you even before I ever saw you. Don't
you realize that I've always found you to be very attractive, especially
because you wear glasses with thick lenses and most especially because you
wear a pair of artificial arms with two hooks?"
"Rob, I was pretty sure that you found me attractive, but I always
thought that it was only because of those 'normal' parts of my body that
most guys are usually attracted to - my hair, my face, my teeth, my breasts,
my waist, my hips, my legs, etc., etc., etc. Please forgive me if I seem to
be incredibly stupid, but can you tell me just how you became interested in
me before you had even seen me? And can you also tell me just why is it
that you find both my severe visual handicap and my severe physical handicap
to be so beautiful?"
"Carole, I've always believed in the quote that says, 'Beauty is in
the eye of the beholder.' You may think that nobody would ever consider you
to be beautiful because you have such a severe visual handicap and because
you have such a severe physical handicap, but you're totally wrong. And you
may also think that everybody would consider any famous fashion model to be
beautiful because she has no obvious handicaps at all, but you're totally
wrong again. Of course, I would definitely consider you to be beautiful
even if you didn't have any handicaps at all. However, Carole, I most
definitely consider you to be much more beautiful than even the most
beautiful fashion model because of, and not in spite of, your very severe
visual handicap and also your very severe physical handicap!"
"Rob, I believe that you're being very upfront and honest with me,
just as you've always been, and I really appreciate your openness more than
you can possibly imagine. However, I still don't understand just how you
became interested in me before you had even seen me, and just what it is
about both of my severe handicaps that you find so beautiful. Could you
please explain those things to me?"
"I'll try, Carole. Let me start by going back to a few weeks before
the start of this school year. Shortly after Saint Joseph's had hired me to
be their boys' physical education teacher and their boys' soccer coach, I
heard that they had also just hired a handicapped woman to be their
exceptional education teacher and their girls' soccer coach. I admit that I
certainly don't know very much at all about teaching exceptional -
handicapped - children. However, I do know a lot about coaching soccer, so
I was really fascinated by the fact that a handicapped woman was going to
coach the girls' soccer team, and I was also extremely interested in meeting
that woman. I very discretely found out more about that woman - you.
First, I found out that you had a severe visual handicap, a handicap that
was the result of a birth defect, and I also found out that you had a severe
physical handicap, a handicap that was the result of a very recent accident.
Just as soon as I found out that much about your two handicaps, I
immediately knew that you must be a very amazing and a very interesting
woman, and I couldn't wait to personally meet you. Besides that, I also
figured that I could probably pick up some valuable tips for coaching my
boys' soccer team simply by talking to you and most especially by watching
you coach your girls' soccer team."
"When I saw you for the very first time, Carole, you were seated at
the 'new staff' table at the sports boosters' barbecue. I initially saw
that you indeed had a severe visual handicap because you were wearing a pair
of glasses with the thickest and the most unusual looking lenses that I'd
ever seen. I immediately knew that you must be the new ex ed teacher and
new girls' soccer coach. As I was walking over to meet you, I was also
trying to determine just what your severe physical handicap was. Since you
were sitting down and talking to another teacher who was standing next to
you, I thought that you most probably had suffered a crippling accident that
confined you to a wheelchair. I'm sure that you remember how totally
shocked and how extremely embarrassed I appeared to be when I offered my
right hand for you to shake as I introduced myself to you, and you
immediately stood up, rotated the hook on your right artificial arm with the
hook on your left artificial arm, and then shook my hand with your right
hook. You probably thought that my obvious shock and embarrassment was due
to your glasses with their thick lenses and your two artificial arms with
their hooks, but, honestly, Carole, my reaction was solely due to the fact
that you stood up when I'd thought that you were crippled and were seated in
a wheelchair and unable to stand up."
"Actually, Rob, I didn't know just what to think the very first time
you introduced yourself to me because I'd never met anyone before you who
displayed such an unusual reaction upon first meeting me. When you first
spoke to me, I distinctly remember that I'd been sitting with both of my
hooks in my lap while I was talking to Mr. Carlson, the High School ex ed
teacher. Honestly, my first thought was that you were probably one of those
people who feels uncomfortable about associating with someone like me who
has a very obvious visual handicap in addition to a very obvious physical
handicap. It's really quite common for many people, particularly children,
to be quite apprehensive when they first realize that I'm a severe myope
who's wearing glasses with thick lenses as well as a DBE amputee who's
wearing a pair of artificial arms with two hooks. Of course, those people
usually have no control whatsoever over their feelings regarding my
handicaps. Usually, it'll take those people quite a long time before they
feel even somewhat comfortable being around me, and many of those people
never will overcome their aversion to my glasses and/or my hooks. Knowing
about those people and not knowing you at all, I was very pleasantly
surprised when, just a short while later, you never even hesitated to
graciously peel off the backing on my self-stick name tag so that I could
use both of my hooks to attach it to my blouse. At that time, I felt fairly
confident that since my severe visual handicap and my severe physical
handicap apparently hadn't scared you off yet, then you and I might just
possibly become good friends! You quite obviously know that I'm not the
least bit ashamed of my glasses with their thick lenses, and you also quite
obviously know that I'm not the least bit ashamed of my two artificial arms
with their two hooks. And obviously, I know that you're not even the least
bit uncomfortable or ashamed to be seen with me and even to go out with me
while I'm wearing my glasses and my hooks. And Rob, I hope you realize that
I'm exceptionally pleased to have been your date tonight, and I sincerely
hope that this date won't be the only one that we have!"
"Honestly, Carole, I've never had any kind of aversion to your two
hooks, to your two artificial arms, or to your glasses, and I've certainly
never felt even the least bit uncomfortable or ashamed about being with you.
On the contrary, I've never thought of either of your two severe handicaps
as being 'disabilities' the way that most people undoubtedly consider them.
Personally, I feel that your glasses are not only very unique, but that
they're also exceptionally beautiful, just as beautiful as fine jewelry. I
especially like the fact that your glasses' very thin stainless steel frame
emphasizes the fact that your glasses have such exceptionally thick lenses.
While the thick lenses of your glasses make both of your eyes look much
smaller than any normal eyes would look, they also make both of your eyes
look more distinctive than anything else could ever possibly make them look.
The more that I see you and the more that I watch you while you're wearing
your glasses with their thick lenses, the more that I realize just how
beautiful they really are and just how much more beautiful they really make
you look. More importantly, your being severely myopic and your wearing
glasses with thick lenses has definitely made you a better person because
you're emotionally and mentally a whole lot stronger as the result of your
accepting and overcoming that severe visual handicap of yours. Carole, I
honestly have to say that I've never met anyone quite as unique as you are,
and I hope you realize that I'm also exceptionally pleased that you've been
my date tonight. And I also really hope that this date won't be our only
one!"
"It's significant that you think about my severe myopia and my
glasses the way that you do, Rob, because I pretty much think the same way
about those things myself. I've always thought of my glasses with their
thick lenses as being just like any kind of beautiful jewelry, and I
honestly think that they really make me look much more attractive than I
would look if I didn't have to wear them. Also, I totally agree with you
that my being severely myopic and my having to wear glasses with thick
lenses has made me a much better person than I ever would've been if I'd
been born with perfectly normal vision and didn't have to wear these glasses
of mine. Rob, I've honestly never met anyone quite as unique as you are,
either, and it's certainly quite amazing just how similar both of our
thoughts and both of our feelings are regarding my severe visual handicap."
"I wholeheartedly agree with you, Carole. To continue on with my
explanation, I personally feel that your two artificial arms with their two
hooks are not only very unique, but that they're also exceptionally
beautiful, even more beautiful than your silver Mustang. I especially like
the fact that both of your artificial arms' two stainless steel wrists and
two stainless steel hooks emphasize the fact that both of your arms are
partially artificial. While the wrists and the hooks of both of your
artificial arms make both of your forearms look quite different than any
normal forearms look, they also make both of your artificial forearms look
much more like 'precision machinery' than 'hardware' as you all too often
refer to them. The more that I see you and the more that I watch you while
you're wearing both of your artificial arms with their two hooks, the more
that I realize just how beautiful your hooks really are and just how much
more beautiful they really make you look. More importantly, your being a
DBE amputee and your wearing a pair of artificial arms with two hooks has
definitely made you a much better person because you're emotionally and
mentally a whole lot stronger as the result of your accepting and overcoming
that severe physical handicap of yours."
"It's significant that you think about my two artificial arms and my
two hooks the way that you do, Rob, because I pretty much think the same way
about them myself. I've always thought of my two stainless steel hooks and
my two stainless steel wrists as being just like any kind of beautiful
'hardware' - which, since I'll now refer to as beautiful 'precision
machinery' - and I honestly think that they really make me look much more
attractive than I would look if I didn't have to wear them. Also, I totally
agree with you that my being a DBE amputee and my wearing a pair of
artificial arms with two hooks has made me a much better person than I ever
would've been if I'd still had two perfectly normal arms and didn't have to
wear these two artificial arms of mine. And I'll have to say again that
it's certainly amazing how similar both of our thoughts and both of our
feelings are regarding my severe physical handicap. Believe it or not, Rob,
I'm really thrilled to admit to you that you're honestly one of the very few
people whom I've been able to become friends with since my accident who's
actually made me feel just like a real woman once again!"
"Carole, you and I both know that you've always been a real woman,
and you'll always be a real woman. I'm sure that a lot of other people feel
the same way that I do about you, even though they may not actually ever say
so."
Both Carole and Rob were beginning to realize that their once casual
friendship was starting to blossom into something much more serious. It was
now a little past eleven, but neither Rob nor Carole wanted to leave one
another just yet. All during their latest conversation they'd been standing
on opposite sides of Carole's bed, and now they simultaneously moved towards
the end of her bed and then lovingly embraced one another for the very first
time. As Rob wrapped his arms around Carole's body, Carole also wrapped her
forearm stumps around Rob's head, and they both gently pulled their lips
together. After several minutes, they finished their kiss, concluded their
embrace, and then Carole had to carefully reposition her glasses with her
two forearm stumps.
"Rob, you're the first man who's kissed me or embraced me since my
accident. You don't know how wonderful you've made me feel! I never
imagined that any man would ever again want to show his affection towards me
since I've become a DBE amputee who has these two stainless steel hooks
instead of two real hands."
Instead of replying, Rob once again pulled Carole's body to his.
Carole followed Rob's lead, and the two of them carried on with their
display of mutual affection. When they had finally ended their second kiss
and embrace, Rob slowly moved his two hands down both of Carole's upper arms
and gently caressed the soft ends of her two forearm stumps. As soon as he
fully realized just what he was doing, Rob quickly let go of both of
Carole's forearm stumps. "I'm so sorry, Carole. Please forgive my
inappropriate behavior! I guess that I've let my emotions get the better of
me. I humbly apologize. I promise that I won't do that again!"
Carole immediately caressed both of Rob's hands with her two forearm
stumps. "No, Rob. Please don't stop what you just started doing. I want
you to touch, to feel, to hold, and to caress both of my forearm stumps
because they're two very significant parts of my body, and they're just as
sensual as any other parts of my body are. Even though my being a DBE
amputee always has been and always will be a much more severe handicap than
my severe myopia is, I've always believed that my not having any hands and
my not having any wrists doesn't mean that I can't love or can't be loved."
Rob gently took both of Carole's forearm stumps in his hands and
lovingly rubbed and fondled them. Just a few minutes later, Carole gently
took both of her forearm stumps away from his two hands, wrapped them around
Rob's body, pulled his body to hers, and pressed her lips against his. This
passionate kiss and embrace lasted much longer than either of the previous
two did. It was now obviously apparent to both Carole and to Rob that their
casual friendship was quickly becoming a very serious and very intimate
relationship.
"Carole, please understand that I'm honestly not being nosey, but I'm
really very curious about your two artificial arms and your two hooks.
Could you possibly explain to me and show me just how you make them work?"
"You're not being the least bit nosey, Rob, and I certainly
understand your natural curiosity, so I'll gladly show you how all of my
'hardware' - I mean my 'precision machinery' - works, and I'll tell you
everything that I know about it. Obviously, you realize that there's much
more to my two artificial arms and my two hooks than just what you've seen
hanging out from the sleeves of my sweater. However, before either one of
us does anything else, I think that it's time that we had some refreshments.
I'm a little hungry and quite thirsty, and I imagine that you probably are
too. How about some cake and juice, Rob?"
"Sounds great to me, Carole. Do you need me to help you with
anything?"
"Thanks, Rob, but I'm quite sure that I can 'handle' everything by
myself, even though I don't have any hands and I'm not wearing my two hooks
at this time. I really don't need you to give me a hand, or even two
hands!"
"Carole, you really shouldn't make jokes about your not having any
hands!"
"You're wrong, Rob. I need to make jokes, at least occasionally,
about my severe physical handicap, and also about my severe visual handicap.
My making jokes about my severe myopia, my glasses with their thick lenses,
my two artificial arms, and my two hooks, indicates to other people not only
that I've really accepted all of my handicaps, but also that I've come to
the realization that I'm not going to let any of them adversely affect my
life in any way or at any time."
"I guess that I understand what you're saying, Carole, but I
certainly don't think that other people ever need to make any jokes about
your handicaps."
"Rob, I wholeheartedly agree with you, but you certainly must
understand that there's absolutely nothing that I'll ever be able to do to
stop people from making jokes about my handicaps. Honestly, Rob, I try very
hard to not let any jokes that people make about my handicaps bother me, and
one of the best ways that I can do that is by purposely making jokes about
my own handicaps."
"Carole, again, I don't want to be nosey, but I'm really curious
about your two forearm stumps. Aren't you pretty much helpless if you're
not wearing both of your artificial arms with their two hooks, when you have
to function with only your two bare forearm stumps?"
"Rob, didn't you just promise me less than an hour ago that you would
think very carefully before you asked me any more questions about either one
of my severe handicaps? You're not thinking! But you don't need to
apologize to me because I fully understand that you're not very
knowledgeable, at least not yet, about all of the many peculiarities of DBE
amputees like me. While I was still stuck in the hospital recovering from
my accident, my two doctors arranged for me to meet with Patti Starr, a
woman who lost both of her arms below her elbows in an auto accident when
she was just eighteen. Patti has several pairs of excellent artificial arms
that she can use very proficiently when she's wearing them, but she usually
prefers not to wear any of them. Both of her forearm stumps are three or
four inches shorter than mine are, and, unlike mine, her two forearm stumps
are both different lengths. Regardless, Patti still does everything that
she really wants to do with her two bare forearm stumps, including being a
stay-at-home mother. Patti taught me how to do more things with these two
bare forearm stumps of mine than I ever could have imagined would be
possible for me to do with them. I'll just have to prove to you that I'm
able to do function quite well using only these two bare stumps of mine,
although I haven't yet learned how to do quite as many things using just my
two bare forearm stumps as I can successfully do when I'm using my two
artificial arms with their two hooks."
"Carole, believe me, you don't have to prove anything to me, although
I really would like to see at least a few of the things that you can do
using just your two bare forearm stumps."
"I know that I don't have to prove anything to you, Rob, but my
showing you some of the things that I can do using just my two bare forearm
stumps is yet another one of the things that you should know about my severe
physical handicap. If you'll follow me into the kitchen and have a seat at
the table, I'll hopefully show you that I've still got a few of the skills
that I developed working as a waitress during the four years that I was in
college. With any luck at all, I shouldn't end up breaking or spilling
anything! I'll be careful and take my time, so just be patient with me
because I haven't really done very much practicing lately using just my two
bare forearm stumps all by themselves."
Rob watched attentively and with a certain amount of amazement as
Carole got a small cake and a bottle of fruit juice out of her refrigerator,
plates and glasses out of one of her cupboards, silverware out of her
dishwasher, and napkins out of a drawer in one of her kitchen cabinets.
When she had finished bringing everything to the kitchen table, Carole
carefully cut a piece of cake and poured a glass of juice for both Rob and
herself.
"See, Rob, these two bare forearm stumps of mine are pretty useful,
aren't they?"
"You're right again, Carole. I've sure got a whole lot more to learn
about your severe physical handicap, don't I?"
"Well Rob, you definitely know more about my both of my handicaps
than anyone else, and that even includes all of my doctors. You're one of
the few people who knows just how severely myopic I am and just how really
blind I am when I'm not wearing my glasses. More importantly, you've the
only person, except for all of my doctors and my parents, who's not only
seen my two bare forearm stumps, but who's also seen me demonstrate some of
the things that I can do with them. I still need to show you how both of my
artificial arms and my two hooks operate. Once I'm done showing you that,
then I'll have shown you everything important about both of my severe
handicaps." Using both of her forearm stumps, Carole then motioned to Rob
for him to follow her back into her bedroom.
Carole first showed Rob how she put her special socket liners on her
two forearm stumps. Then, she showed him how her two artificial arms were
connected to her white nylon and stainless steel arm harness. Next, Carole
showed Rob all of the main parts of each of her two skin-colored plastic
artificial forearms: their special suction valves, their exposed stainless
steel control cables and sheaths, their twin Sierra multi-positional
polished stainless steel wrists, and their twin Dorrance #5X polished
stainless steel hooks with their special silver-colored neoprene linings.
Then, Carole picked up her two artificial arms from her bed and carefully
slipped on her arm harness. Next, Carole inserted her right forearm stump
into its socket of her right artificial forearm, and she also inserted her
left forearm stump into its socket of her left artificial forearm. Then,
Carole very carefully moved both of her arms as well as both of her
shoulders to make sure that her arm harness and both of her artificial arms
were correctly positioned, and next she manipulated the special suction
valve on each of her artificial forearms so that each one of them was very
securely attached to each of her two forearm stumps. Next, Carole opened
her two hooks several times to make sure that they were opening properly,
and she also made sure that her two hooks were closing completely. Also,
Carole checked to be sure that both of her wrists would rotate and angle
properly. Finally, Carole very securely tightened her arm harness.
"That's how both of my artificial arms fit on me and operate, Rob.
When all of my 'precision machinery' is working properly, each of my two
artificial arms becomes an integral part of my body. I'm extremely
fortunate to have such an unusually long pair of forearm stumps. Almost all
DBE amputees who have forearm stumps that are shorter than mine must have a
special 'cuff' with elastic in it that is called a 'lower-arm suspension
sleeve' or a special 'cuff' with laces or straps on it that is called a
'lower-arm attachment sleeve' on each of their two artificial forearms.
Those special 'cuffs' or 'sleeves' only hold their two artificial forearms
onto both of their forearm stumps, whereas my two artificial arms are
actually attached to both of my stumps very securely by 'suction' or normal
air pressure, in much the same way that any 'suction' cup is attached to
something. Therefore, unlike most DBE's artificial forearms, my two
artificial forearms cannot accidentally come off of my two forearm stumps.
In fact, I can even do 'chin-ups' with my two hooks, and my artificial
forearms won't come off. Sometime, I'll have to show you that. Right now,
I'll explain how my two stainless steel hooks and stainless steel wrists
work. Just sit down across from me on the bed so that you're directly
facing me."
"As you can see, each of my two hooks has one curved stationary
'finger' and one curved moveable 'finger' that are each made from the very
highest quality surgical stainless steel. Both of those 'fingers' have
silver neoprene inserts that allow me to securely grip very smooth objects,
so they won't slip out from between the two 'fingers' of my hooks. The
moveable 'finger' of each of my hooks has an integral 'thumb' which has a
stainless steel control cable anchored to it. That stainless steel control
cable goes up along the outside of my plastic forearm and attaches to a loop
that goes over my opposite shoulder. To open the moveable 'finger' of my
right hook, I move my left shoulder, and to open the moveable 'finger' of my
left hook, I move my right shoulder. Each of my two hooks is closed by
these strong elastic power bands. I have four power bands on my left hook,
and that allows me to hold something - like a textbook - in that hook very
securely. I only have two power bands on my right hook, and that still
allows me to hold something - like a piece of chalk - in that hook less
securely but without crushing it. The reason that I've set up the power
bands on my two hooks that way is because I'm right-hooked, so I primarily
use my right hook for manipulating any small, lightweight things, and I
primarily use my left hook for holding and moving any large, heavyweight
things. Each of my two stainless steel wrists can very easily be rotated
and/or angled into various positions by using my opposite hook, and then the
wrist can be locked into position with that opposite hook. Needless to say,
my two artificial arms with their two hooks are so much more useful than my
two bare forearm stumps that I prefer to wear them almost all of the time,
especially when I'm at school. I can't write, use the computer, or do most
of the many other things that I normally need to do as a teacher if I'm not
wearing both of my artificial arms with their two hooks, and they're both
also absolutely essential whenever I ever have do anything at all that
requires me to use either my unique version of a 'two-handed' grasp or my
unique version of a 'full-arm-length' reach."
"I never knew exactly what you had to do to make your two artificial
arms and your two hooks work, Carole. And I'm amazed that you can easily
put on your arm harness and both of your artificial arms all by yourself, as
complicated as they actually are. Of course, you've always amazed me
because there doesn't seem to be much of anything that you can't do with
your two hooks. Sometimes, you even make me forget that you don't have two
complete arms and two real hands."
"Actually, Rob, all of my 'precision machinery' is pretty simple to
put on, to take off, and to use, if everything is adjusted and working
properly. Occasionally, I'll need to adjust my arm harness or even my
hooks' control cables, and those are things that I can do without very much
difficulty. However, when I want to add, remove, or replace any of the
elastic power bands on either of my two hooks, then I've got a rather
difficult and time-consuming job ahead of me. I honestly think that almost
all people who have two normal hands - like you - don't realize that there
really are a whole lot of things that I can't do with my hooks. First of
all, you have to realize that I must constantly look at my hooks whenever
I'm using them to do anything and everything, since they don't ever provide
me with any sense of touch at all. Sometimes, it's very frustrating for me
to have to look at what I'm doing with my hooks when I really need to be
looking at something else. To give you just one example, whenever I'm using
a computer, I have to constantly look at what I'm doing with my hooks, when
it definitely would be a lot more helpful for me if I could look at the
computer monitor instead. And I could give you a whole list of things that
are virtually impossible for me to do with my hooks, things like:
unwrapping a piece of gum or piece of candy, manipulating twist ties,
buttoning and unbuttoning buttons, fastening a regular brassiere, reaching
into either of the back pockets of my jeans, cutting my toenails, using any
kind of scissors, opening and closing jars and bottles, opening cans,
handling paper cups, handling coins, etc., etc., etc. I always try to avoid
having to do anything that I know from my experience will be extremely
difficult or virtually impossible for me to do with my hooks because I
really dislike embarrassing myself or to having to ask someone else for
help. However, I fully realize just how useful my two artificial arms with
their two hooks are, and I'd never replace them with any artificial arms
that are designed to be much more 'natural' looking but are also much less
useful."
"Rob, my two doctors have given me an expensive pair of 'cosmetic'
hands that I can wear instead of these two hooks of mine. However, it takes
me almost forever to replace my hooks with them, they don't look very much
like any real hands that I've ever seen, and neither one of those 'cosmetic'
hands is very functional at all, so I've only worn them once. My doctors
also had me try using a fancy pair of myoelectric - electrically controlled
- artificial arms, but I absolutely hated them, primarily because I could do
a lot more things with this pair of artificial arms with their two hooks
than I could ever do with them. Besides, those two 'motorized monsters'
were unbelievably expensive, unnaturally heavy, overly complicated, very
unreliable, very slow operating, and you could distinctly hear their
electric motors whenever they were functioning. So I've chosen instead to
wear both of these artificial arms with their two hooks almost all of the
time, but never when I'm sleeping. And the list of things that are
virtually impossible for me to do with my two bare forearm stumps includes
everything that is impossible for me to do with my hooks, as well as such
things like: brushing my hair, putting on my socks, zipping or unzipping
zippers, taking anything out of my purse or out of a bag, tightening the
screws of my glasses, using any computer, using anything that has push
buttons, fastening a seat belt, removing the gas cap of my Mustang, using a
shovel or a broom, riding a bicycle, throwing a softball, etc., etc., etc.
The one very significant advantage that my two bare forearm stumps have over
my two hooks is that they both provide me with an excellent sense of touch.
That's why I much prefer to hold a baby, pet an animal, and especially
caress and hug you with both of my bare forearm stumps than with both of my
artificial arms with their two hooks. I don't ever want to accidentally
hurt anyone with my two stainless steel hooks. On the other hand -
actually, on the other hook - the most significant advantage that my two
hooks have over my two bare forearm stumps is that they make my arms as
complete and as normal as they'll ever again be."
"Carole, probably the most important thing that I've learned from you
is that what you can do in spite of both of your severe disabilities is much
more important that what you cannot do because of both of those
disabilities! You're without a doubt the most amazing and the most talented
woman that I've ever had the pleasure of going out with. Honestly, I'm not
lying because that's really the truth!
"Thanks, Rob. I honestly believe every word that you've just said.
And you can honestly believe me when I say that you're absolutely the nicest
and undoubtedly the most caring man that I've ever had the pleasure of going
out with! So I guess that you and I must be a pretty good match for one
another! Rob, please hand me my white cashmere sweater that's on the
nightstand over there."
Carole took her sweater from Rob, put it on, and then she stood up
beside her bed. "Rob, you've shown your affection for me when I haven't been
wearing my pair of artificial arms with their two hooks, but now will you
still show your affection for me when I'm wearing them? I've put my sweater
back on because it totally covers almost all of my 'precision machinery'
except for both of my wrists and both of my hooks. I promise that I won't
hurt you with either of my two artificial arms or either of my wrists or
either of my hooks." Rob immediately embraced Carole, and their lips met in
a very long and very passionate kiss. "Honestly, Rob, I've lost track of
the time. It's past two in the morning. Don't you need to get back to your
apartment to check on the battery that you left charging in your Mustang?"
"I'm in no real hurry to go anyplace, Carole. The battery charger
that I'm using will automatically shut off when the battery is fully
charged. Do you mind if I stay with you for a little longer, just so that
we can talk some more, and so that I can get to know you even better? I
know that you're a severe myope as the result of being born that way, and I
also know that you tragically became a DBE amputee as the result of
suffering a very terrible accident. Honestly, Carole, I don't want to be
too nosey, I don't want you to have to relive any unpleasant or painful
memories from your past, and I certainly don't want to upset you in any way.
Of course, I most definitely don't want you to ever tell me anything that
you feel I shouldn't know about, so I'll fully understand if you really
don't want to answer my next question. If you honestly don't mind telling
me, and if you think that now is an appropriate time, would you be willing
to tell me about the terrible accident that resulted in the amputation of
both of your hands and both of your wrists?"
"For a long time, Rob, I've really wanted to tell you everything
about the accident that caused me to become so severely physically
handicapped because you should definitely know all about it. The one and
only reason why I haven't already told you anything about my accident is
because I didn't want to scare you away by telling you any of its rather
gruesome details. Since nothing I've done so far has scared you away, then
I guess that what I'm about to tell you now probably won't scare you away
either. Let's go out and relax on the sofa in the livingroom, Rob."
"The story of my accident is one that I'll be telling many, many
times for the entire rest of my life. First and foremost, I have absolutely
nobody but myself to blame for my becoming a DBE amputee because I lost both
of my hands and both of my wrists totally as the result of my own
carelessness. I remember everything about my accident very well indeed
because it still seems to me as though it occurred only yesterday. It
really happened last May 6th, a beautiful sunny Saturday, when all of our
athletic teams were helping with the construction of our college's new
athletic field. I was with three other girls from our soccer team, and we
were all working on the final preparations of the concrete foundation for
the new equipment building. We had just finished installing the metal
termite barriers on the top of the foundation walls, and the very large and
very heavy building was being hoisted into position over the foundation by a
huge crane. That building was prefabricated from white pine logs, and it
had a completely finished floor and a full roof. I later found out that it
weighed close to two tons. In order to help guide Stan, the crane operator,
so he could lower the building directly on top of the foundation walls, one
of us girls stood by each of the four walls. My position was by the back
wall, so I was hidden from Stan's view. The first time Stan lowered the
building on top of the foundation walls, we saw that some of the termite
barriers were not in their proper positions. In order for us to properly
reposition the termite barriers, Stan temporarily lifted the building back
up off of the concrete foundation walls."
"After we had all of the termite barriers positioned properly, Stan
started to once again lower the building. As the building was being slowly
lowered, I noticed that one of the termite barriers on the rear wall was
still not positioned correctly, so I very quickly used both of my hands to
properly position it. I should have shouted to Stan to stop lowering the
building, or I should have just left the termite barrier alone, but,
unfortunately, I didn't do either one of those things. I had assumed that
the rear wall of the building would continue its very slow descent, so I
thought that I still had plenty of time to take care of the termite barrier
and still get both of my hands out of the way of the approaching rear wall.
Since I couldn't see the front wall of the building, I didn't realize that
it was already contacting the entire front concrete foundation wall.
Consequently, the rear wall of the building suddenly dropped straight down
and immediately pinned both of my hands and both of my wrists between it and
the termite barrier on top of the concrete foundation wall. Before I even
realized what had happened, both of my hands and both of my wrists had been
completely and totally crushed under the tremendous weight of the rear wall
of the prefab log building. I instinctively screamed, and Jessica, one of
the other girls, ran to where I was. Jessica immediately shouted to Stan to
lift up the building, and he did, but it was too late to do me any good."
"I tried not to cry too much, and I didn't faint or pass out, but I
was terribly upset. Just seeing how badly both of my hands had been crushed
made me immediately realize that I'd never be able to ever use them again,
although I didn't realize at that time that I would very soon become a DBE
amputee. Instinctively, I held up what remained of my two mangled hands in
front of me and said, 'Someone please call an ambulance - I think that I
need to go to the hospital.' Within five minutes, I was in an ambulance, I
was being attended to by two skilled paramedics, and I was being rushed to
the local hospital. It took the ambulance driver only about three minutes
to get us to the emergency room at that hospital. I was immediately
stabilized and treated for shock, and then I was taken by another ambulance
to the special trauma center at nearby Saint Mary's hospital."
"Within fifteen minutes, I had arrived at the trauma center at Saint
Mary's, and their trauma team took me directly into the operating room. An
extremely skilled and caring trauma surgeon, Doctor Marcia Jenkins, greeted
me, and she quickly assessed all of my injuries as well as my overall
condition. Dr. Jenkins was very straightforward as she informed me that
there was absolutely no way that she could save either of my hands or either
of my wrists because they all had been so very severely crushed. Dr.
Jenkins then explained to me that she had no choice but to amputate both of
my hands just above my wrists in order to save as much of my forearms as she
could, and that she would make both of my residual limbs - my two forearm
stumps - the same length and smoothly rounded on their ends. Since one of
the trauma nurses had removed my glasses while I was being prepared for my
two amputations, I was unable to see anything that was happening the entire
time that I was on the operating table. However, Dr. Jenkins and I talked
to one another all during the two and one-half hours that it took her to
complete both of my amputations, so I knew exactly what she was doing to me
all during that time. Even though Dr. Jenkins is a very experienced trauma
surgeon who had performed numerous amputations as a normal part of her job,
she later admitted to me that she felt absolutely terrible that there wasn't
anything at all that she would've been able to do to save either or both of
my hands or my wrists. As soon as Dr. Jenkins had successfully completed my
two amputations, I was wheeled out of the operating room and into the
recovery room, and there I fell asleep almost immediately."
"When I awakened about two hours later, a nurse checked all of my
vital signs and put my glasses back on for me, and then I was transferred
from the recovery room to my own room. Shortly after I was put into my bed,
I was allowed to see my first visitors - Stan and Jessica. Both of them
were on the verge of tears when they immediately saw that I only had two
bandaged forearm stumps where both of my hands and both of my wrists used to
be. Unfortunately, I didn't make either Stan or Jessica feel any better
when, without thinking, I instinctively tried to brush back my hair with my
two 'hands' and cried out in pain when I just lightly touched my hair with
my two heavily bandaged, but very sensitive, forearm stumps. All three of
us cried for quite a few minutes, and then I told Stan that I honestly
didn't hold him at all responsible for my accident because it was entirely
my own fault. Stan thanked me, and he said that if he only had known or had
only seen just what I was doing, he would have immediately stopped lowering
the log building. I later found out that Stan and his wife have only one
child, a daughter, and she is about a year younger than I am. Stan took my
accident really hard, and it was quite a long time before he 'forgave'
himself for what he originally had mistakenly thought was at least partially
his fault. Jessica then asked me what I would like her to tell all of my
friends concerning my two amputations. I convinced her to say that I doing
just fine, that I was in relatively good spirits, and that I was getting the
absolute best medical care possible. When their visiting time had ended,
they both kissed me gently on my forehead. Before Stan and Jessica left, I
told them that I was very fortunate that my injuries had not been any more
serious than they were, and I also assured both of them that I would make a
complete recovery from having both of my hands and both of my wrists
amputated. I honestly believed everything that I told the two of them. I
made up my mind right then and there that I would work exceptionally hard to
prove that I definitely meant everything that I had said, even though I had
absolutely no idea how I would ever be able to do much of anything without
any hands and without any wrists."
"As you can probably imagine, my mom, my dad, and all of my relatives
were really devastated when they were told about my accident. They all
pretty much thought that I wouldn't be able to live anything even close to a
normal life. They were all sure that I'd never be able to become a teacher,
never be able to marry a normal man or even have a normal boyfriend, never
be able to drive a normal car, etc., etc., etc. And they all wanted to know
when I'd be getting a pair of artificial hands that would look like the two
real hands that I no longer had. Fortunately, when my parents visited me in
the hospital the day after my accident, they met Dr. Jenkins. She was able
to convince them, as she had convinced me, that I'd be able to live a pretty
normal life just as soon as my two residual limbs - my two forearm stumps -
had healed enough so that I could learn how to function with a pair of arm
prostheses with conventional terminal devices - a pair of artificial arms
with two metal hooks. Dr. Jenkins also mentioned to all of us that I would
eventually be able to use other more natural-looking terminal devices -
cosmetic hands or electrically-powered hands. I promised my mom and my dad
that I'd still graduate from college and still get my provisional teaching
certificate just as I'd originally planned, and I also promised them that
I'd definitely fulfill the contract that I'd already signed to teach and
coach at Saint Joseph's Junior High School.
"Within three weeks of my accident, my two forearm stumps had healed
enough to allow my prosthetist, Dr. Dorothy Dayton, to begin the process of
making me my own pair of artificial arms with two metal hooks. I was
wearing my very first pair of artificial arms with two aluminum wrists and
two aluminum hooks within a month after my accident, and I spent the next
month working very diligently with my physical therapist, Mary, who helped
me immensely to learn how to use my two hooks as proficiently as I possibly
could. Mary is also a DBE amputee who wears a pair of artificial arms with
aluminum wrists and hooks, and she was a tremendous role model for me and an
even greater inspiration for me to succeed, especially during those few
times when things weren't going very well for me. I worked so hard and so
long using my two new artificial arms that I wore out my original pair of
aluminum wrists and aluminum hooks, so I convinced Dr. Dayton that she
needed to replace all of those light-duty aluminum components with these
heavy-duty stainless steel components that I have now. Dr. Dayton then
arranged for me to meet Patti Starr, the DBE amputee with the short forearm
stumps whom I spoke about previously. Just like Mary, Patti was a
tremendous role model and a great inspiration for me, and I'll always be
indebted to both of those women for all of the many things that they did to
help me overcome this severe physical handicap of mine. On August 7th, just
three months and one day after my accident, I was finally released from the
hospital. I had exactly one day less than one month to get myself, my
clothes, my apartment, my car, and almost everything else in my life ready
so that I could finally begin my teaching career and my coaching career at
Saint Joseph's on the very first day of school, September 6th."
"Since I wanted to be as self-sufficient as I possibly could be, I
tried to get back into the same routines that I had followed before my
accident. Every day was a new learning experience for me, and every
activity that I performed required me to do something differently than I'd
ever done it before. Everywhere I went, people treated me so much
differently than I'd ever been treated before. I quickly learned firsthand
- actually, firsthook - that as soon as most people saw both of my hooks,
they usually stereotyped me as a helpless cripple. I quickly found out that
I had to act exactly like I had acted when I was a 'normal' young woman.
Even now, the more often I show people all of the things that I can
successfully do with my two hooks, the more likely they are to treat me just
like a 'normal' young woman who still has both of her 'normal' hands. Every
day, I try to get a little more proficient at using my two hooks, mostly by
working on my own and by using old-fashioned trial-and-error learning
techniques, but also by attending training sessions with Mary whenever I
specifically need her help. I still continue to see Dr. Jenkins every month
to be sure that there aren't any problems with either of my forearm stumps,
and I also continue to see Dr. Dayton whenever necessary to be sure that my
two artificial arms and my two hooks are still functioning properly. I
couldn't have recovered so quickly and so completely without all of the
excellent help that I've received, and continue to receive, from Dr.
Jenkins, Dr. Dayton, and Mary.
"I then decided that I'd very soon have to let Saint Joseph's know
about my now needing to wear a pair of artificial arms with two hooks, just
like I'd already let them know about my needing to wear glasses with thick
lenses. So I contacted the Board Of Education and arranged to meet with
them to show them that I was still fully capable of performing my duties as
their new ex ed teacher and girls' soccer coach. My mom and my dad had
given me my new silver Mustang as my college graduation present, and my dad
had already installed the two special steering rings on its steering wheel.
I was able to successfully drive my new silver horse all by myself to Saint
Joseph's without any problems. I was then able to show all seven of the
members of the Board Of Education and also the superintendent that, even
though I was now a DBE amputee who had to wear a pair of artificial arms
with two hooks, I would still be an excellent teacher and coach. The Board
validated my tentative teaching contract and also extended it for the next
three years.
"Oh, Rob, I haven't been keeping track of the time. It's almost
four, and I must have spent at least the last forty-five minutes telling you
most everything about the last few months of my life. You should've said
something and not let me talk so much about myself! I'm terribly sorry!"
"Carole, you don't need to apologize for anything that you've told me
about your life since the day of your tragic accident. You've made me see
that you're even more interesting, more determined, and harder working than
I'd ever realized you were. Even though it's as late as it is, I wouldn't
mind your repeating everything that you've done and said over the past three
hours!"
"Never forget, Rob, that I've been given a lot of help by a lot of
really great people to successfully get to this point in my life, and I most
assuredly never could've accomplished everything that I've done over the
past seven months of my life all on my own. Although I wouldn't mind
repeating any of the things that I've done these past three hours, I
definitely would mind repeating everything that I've said to you. I've
talked enough. No Rob, actually, I've talked too much."
"I guess that it's time for me to get going now, Carole. Before I
leave, I'd sure like to have another piece of cake and some more juice."
"Aren't you a little more hungry than that, Rob? Wouldn't you like
to have a real breakfast instead of just a early morning snack?"
"Yes, Carole, I'm hungry enough to have a regular breakfast, although
I normally don't eat breakfast much before six."
"Rob, why don't you go back to your apartment and get cleaned up and
changed, while I do the same here, and then we can conclude our very first
date when I take you out to breakfast with me! I'll drive my Mustang this
time, and I'd like to take you to Joe's Diner. Joe's undoubtedly has some
of the best and most reasonably priced food anywhere around here, and I
personally know that all of the breakfast offerings are exceptionally good.
Have you ever been there?"
"It'll only take me about a half hour to shower and change clothes,
Carole. Yes, I'm almost a regular at Joe's, and I know that all of the food
there is excellent, so I'll gladly eat there anytime. If it's not rushing
you too much, why don't you pick me up at my apartment right about quarter
to five?"
"Rob, I'll need a little longer than forty-five minutes to get ready.
Don't forget, I not only have to get undressed, but I also have to take off
all of my 'precision machinery' before I take a shower, and then I've got to
put it all back on again before I can get dressed. Would you mind waiting
for me until about five thirty?"
"Five thirty will be just fine, Carole. That'll give me enough time
to take care of my Mustang's battery, which should be fully charged by now."
Carole opened her two artificial arms and Rob immediately joined her
in another loving embrace and kiss. This affectionate display didn't last
nearly as long as the previous four did because both Rob and Carole knew
that they each had several things to do before they could be together once
again.
Carole hurried to take her shower and to get herself all attended to
in order to be ready on time. Along with her customary front-fastening
brassiere, white short sleeve t-shirt, and panties, she put on all of her
"precision machinery" and decided to dress quite casually, like she often
dressed when she was alone in her apartment. Carole started by slipping on
a pair of tight blue cut-off jeans that ended a good twelve inches above her
knees, which, like all of her jeans and all of her skirts, also had dual
side zippers. Next, she put on a pair of leather and wooden clogs, which,
even though they didn't stay on her feet as well as her special basketball
shoes, didn't have any zippers and didn't require her to wear any socks.
Carole finished dressing by slipping on one of her new short sleeve "Saint
Joseph's Junior High School - Athletic Department - STAFF" t-shirts. Carole
obviously knew that her wearing any short sleeve t-shirt would definitely
draw people's attention to her two artificial arms and her two hooks, but
she didn't really mind the fact that almost all of her "precision machinery"
would be exposed to everybody's view. Carole then quickly brushed her long,
dark blonde hair, and, as always, pushed it behind her shoulders, so
people's attention would be focused on her very distinctive glasses with
their thick lenses. Carole had often wished that she could wear her hair in
a ponytail, just like she always used to do with it before her accident, but
it was now impossible for her to fix her hair like that using either her two
hooks or using just her two bare forearm stumps. Since it was now almost
five twenty-five, Carole picked up her purse and hurried out to her Mustang.
Rob was already waiting for her by the curb when she pulled up along
side of him. He was wearing a pair of dark blue soccer shorts, a pair of
loafers without socks, and a short-sleeve Saint Joseph's "STAFF" t-shirt
that was identical to the one that she was wearing.
"Nice 'STAFF' shirt, Rob. I like your taste in clothes, but did you
forget to wear your socks in your rush to get ready by five thirty? And
anybody who doesn't know that you're the boys' phys ed teacher and the boys'
soccer team coach will probably be able to figure out exactly who you are
now."
"Thanks, Carole. No, I didn't forget to wear my socks because I
usually never wear them with these shoes. How come you're not wearing any
socks either? And how come you're also wearing your 'STAFF' shirt? Very
few people around here know who I am, but everybody around here already
knows who you are!"
"I'm not wearing any socks with these clogs that I've got on, Rob,
because I didn't really feel like spending the time putting on a pair with
these two hooks of mine. C'mon, I haven't even been here three months yet,
and that's not long enough for more than a few people to know who I am. In
fact, most of the Elementary School teachers and most of the High School
teachers don't even know who I am!"
"Carole, now you're the one who's not thinking! Just because you
don't teach the large number of students that I teach doesn't mean that
you're not well known. On the contrary, you earned a lot of notoriety for
coaching your girls' soccer team to a superb 13-2-1 record and a second
place finish in their very first season of league competition. Not only
that, I think that you shouldn't be surprised to know that just about
everybody around here knows about you because of your severe visual handicap
and your severe physical handicap. After all, how many other beautiful
young women who wear glasses with thick lenses and who also wear a pair of
artificial arms with two stainless steel hooks live here? I'm quite sure
that you've been a topic of many conversations since before you even started
working here."
Carole just sat silently in her Mustang for a moment. "You're
absolutely right, Rob. How could I possibly think that I'd remain anonymous
for very long with my two very obvious and very severe handicaps? My being
so easily recognized and also my being a constant topic of conversation are
things that I'll be experiencing every day for the rest of my entire life.
Unlike most handicaps, my two handicaps are both extremely rare and almost
impossible to hide. I don't know how true it is, but I've been told that
only about one-in-one-thousand American adults has severe myopia like me,
and that only about one-in-one-hundred thousand American adults is a
double-arm amputee like me. If my math is correct, then those figures show
that only about one-in-a-million American adults is a severely myopic,
double-arm amputee just like me. Being 'one-in-a-million' is very nice, but
I'd much rather be 'one-in-a-million' for reasons other than my two severe
handicaps. I just hope that people around here will know me and will talk
about me for who I am - a young woman exceptional education teacher and a
girls' soccer coach who works very hard to be successful in everything that
she does. And I also hope that the people around here won't just know me
and won't just talk about me for what I am - a young woman who just happens
to be handicapped in ways that are much more obvious and much more severe
than the handicaps that all people actually have."
"Carole, you know that people are always going to stereotype you
because of both of your severe handicaps, and there's absolutely nothing
that you can do about that. However, by always showing people that you're a
beautiful and a successful young woman because of your two severe handicaps,
and not in spite of your two severe handicaps, you'll do a lot to change
their stereotypes. You're absolutely correct because all people have
handicaps of some kind or another, but most people's handicaps are neither
as obvious nor as severe as both of yours are."
"I guess you're right, once again, Rob. My parents have always told
me, 'You can never control what other people say or do, but you can always
control what you say and do.' So I need to follow their advice and your
advice, too!"
"Are you just going to sit there, Carole, or are you going to unlock
the door so I can get in and sit down? You promised to take me to Joe's
Diner for breakfast!"
"I'm sorry, Rob." Carole unlocked the passenger door by using her
left hook to operate the door-unlocking lever on her car door. Rob got in,
sat down, and gave Carole a very long and very passionate kiss before he
buckled his seat belt. Carole pushed her still-wet hair behind her
shoulders with both of her hooks, and then she used her right hook and
expertly shifted her Mustang into drive and drove away.
Rob continually watched Carole the entire time that she was driving
to Joe's. She always kept one of her hooks in its steering wheel ring all
of the time, and she used her other hook to operate the other controls that
she needed to use. Whenever she needed to use her other hook to do
anything, Carole always looked directly at it in order to move it
appropriately. In order to compensate for her substantially limited
peripheral vision, Carole constantly moved her head all of the time that she
was driving. Rob was very impressed with Carole's driving skills,
especially after she expertly parallel-parked on the main street right
across from Joe's Diner. "That was quite an impressive display of driving
skill that you just showed me, Carole. I don't see why you even need to
bother at all using those two special rings that are attached to your
steering wheel. You seem to be able to do everything that you need to do to
drive by using just your two hooks all by themselves."
"Honestly, Rob, I can't drive safely without using at least one of
these two steering wheel rings. In an emergency, I could probably drive
just about any vehicle with my two hooks, even if it didn't have these
special rings on the steering wheel, as long as it had an automatic
transmission. I need to have at least one of my hooks on the steering wheel
all of the time, and since neither one of my two hooks gives me any sense of
touch, keeping at least one of my hooks in its steering wheel ring allows me
to know exactly where it is without my having to look at it. Then I can
look at the road and everything else that I need to look at while I'm
driving. And Rob, I can't do 'everything' with my hooks when I'm driving.
I definitely can't drive any vehicle that has a standard transmission
because I can't properly operate its gearshift lever. Even with these
silver neoprene inserts on the insides of both of my hooks, it's extremely
difficult for me to rotate the control levers on the steering column to work
the windshield wipers and the lights. And without this keyless entry
control module, it would be very difficult for me to use the standard keys
to lock and unlock the locks on all of the doors and on the trunk. If you
remember, I've had that specially designed combination lock installed on the
front door of my apartment just so that I don't have to struggle trying to
use a standard key. Now Rob, if you really want to know just a few more of
the things pertaining to my new Mustang that are virtually impossible for me
to do with my hooks, try to determine how I could possibly do any of these
simple things: operating most of the push buttons that are on the dash
board, getting anything out of these very deep storage compartments on the
insides of the car doors, replacing a burned-out light bulb, adding oil to
the engine, changing the engine oil, changing the oil filter, changing a
flat tire, removing the radiator cap, doing any maintenance chores, etc.,
etc., etc. Even just thinking about trying to do any of those things makes
me very quickly realize the many shortcomings of my two artificial arms with
their two hooks."
"Get realistic, Carole! You can do everything with your two hooks
that you really need to do in order to drive almost any vehicle. You can
operate any push button on anything by simply pushing it with the end of a
pencil or a pen, just like I've seen you do when you're using a calculator
at school. And you certainly
shouldn't need to do any kind of maintenance
work at all on your Mustang because a young woman like you should have a man
do all of that kind of work for her!"
"Rob, forgive me for saying this, but you're wrong once again.
Didn't I just tell you that I can't drive any vehicle that has a standard
transmission? And when I'm in school, I usually have no trouble finding
pencils and pens to use, but just where in most cars am I supposed to always
find a pencil or a pen that I can use? You don't realize this, but I always
used to do all of maintenance chores on all of my previous cars as well as
on my motorcycle. Now that I have these two stainless steel hooks in place
of my two amputated hands, do you realize that I can't do any of those
things anymore? Do you realize that now I'll never again be able to ride
any kind of motorcycle, at least not any conventional motorcycle, that I
know of? Of course, you know that I'm a very good soccer player and also a
pretty good athlete, but you don't know that I earned a varsity softball
letter each of my four years both in high school and in college. Do you
realize that now I can't even properly throw a softball, not to mention
either catch one or hit one, with these two hooks of mine? You also don't
know that I used to work every summer earning really good money as a
waitress. Do you realize that, even if I could waitress, I'd probably never
be able to get any job as a waitress in any restaurant that I know of with
these two hooks of mine? Rob, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, and I don't
want you or anybody else to feel sorry for me, but I'm simply trying to get
you to realize that my being a DBE amputee and my wearing a pair of
artificial arms with two stainless steel hooks keeps me from doing so many
of the things that I really enjoyed doing before my accident! Now, Rob, did
you say that you'd do all of the maintenance work on my Mustang for me? If
you don't charge me an artificial arm, or two artificial arms, I just might
let you work on my silver horse!"
"Carole, it's very obvious to anyone who meets you that you don't
feel sorry for yourself and that you don't want anybody else to feel sorry
for you just because you happen to be severely visually and severely
physically handicapped. It's also very obvious that you've never let your
two handicaps prevent you from being an excellent soccer player, an
excellent overall athlete, an excellent soccer coach, an excellent teacher,
and an exceptionally beautiful young woman, too! Sure, there are many
things that you can't do because of your two severe handicaps, things that
almost all non-handicapped people can probably easily do because they don't
have to live with your handicaps. But, much more importantly, there are
also many things that you can do because of your two severe handicaps,
things that almost all non-handicapped people will never be able to do
because they haven't lived with your handicaps. And I'm certainly not
talking about things like reading exceptionally small print with your
glasses off or silently clapping with your two stainless steel hooks
whenever you applaud. I'm talking about showing all of your 'handicapped'
students just how you've adapted to your having severe myopia, and just how
you've coped with other people's reactions to your having to wear glasses
with thick lenses. I'm talking about showing all of those students just how
you've adapted to having no wrists and no hands, and just how you've coped
with other people's reactions to your two artificial arms with their two
hooks. I'm talking about showing all of your soccer players just how you've
compensated for your very limited peripheral vision by dribbling a soccer
ball down the field and then executing a perfect crossing pass. I'm talking
about showing all of those girls just how you've adapted to using both of
your artificial arms with their two hooks by holding a soccer ball over your
head and then executing a perfect throw-in. What I'm saying, Carole, is
that you're definitely a much better teacher and also a much better soccer
coach than most 'normal' people because of your severe handicaps, not in
spite of them. No, I didn't really say that I'd do the maintenance work on
your Mustang, but I'll be glad to help you with it, without charging you
anything."
"Thanks for offering to help me do the maintenance work on my silver
horse, Rob. It's due for an oil change pretty soon, so I'll let you know
when I'll require your expert assistance. You're absolutely right. I
should be more concerned about all of those things that I can do well in
spite of my handicaps, and I shouldn't be too concerned about those things
that I can't do well because of my handicaps. I know that you're hungry,
and I'm also hungry, so let's continue this conversation while we eat
breakfast." They both got out of the Mustang, and Carole used her left hook
to operate her keyless control module and lock her car's doors. Rob held
Carole's right hook with his left hand as he escorted her into Joe's Diner.
"Hello, Carole. Hello, Rob. What brings both of you here together
this morning?"
"Good morning, Joe. Carole and I just want to start today off with
some of your good cooking!"
"Well, Rob, I hope you and Carole aren't in too much of a hurry
because Marcia's the only waitress who's working this morning."
"We've got all morning, Joe, so Rob and I won't mind waiting.
Besides, we've got plenty of things that we need to talk about, so tell
Marcia not to hurry just because of us. Rob, why don't you get us a table
while I go back out to my silver horse and get my purse. I must have left
it in the car. I'll be right back." As Rob went off to find an empty
table, Joe stopped Carole and talked with her for a moment, and then Carole
went out to her Mustang to get her purse.
Rob sat down at one of the small tables in the center area of the
diner, and Carole soon joined him. "I need to clean off the lenses of my
glasses, Rob, because both of them have traces of hair conditioner on them
from when some passionate guy messed up my hair a little while ago. It's
really annoying for me to have to look through the lenses of my glasses
whenever they're even slightly dirty. I would've already cleaned them off
before I drove us over here, but I don't have any water in the Mustang. I
need to make a quick trip to the ladies' to take care of them, so I'll be
back in just a few minutes." Rob picked up the early edition of the
Saturday newspaper and immediately turned to the sports section. Several
minutes later, as Rob was preoccupied with checking out Friday's scores, he
heard a familiar voice. "Sir, are you all by yourself this morning?" Rob
set down his paper and was just about to reply to the waitress's question
when he looked up and saw... Carole! She was wearing a waitress' apron, and
she was holding a pen in her right hook and a menu in her left hook.
"I'm a new waitress, sir, and you're my very first customer! Here's
a menu for you. Our 'breakfast special' today is the 'Pancake Platter' with
juice or coffee. Let me know when you're ready to order, sir."
"Carole, are you serious? I thought that you were going to eat
breakfast with me!"
"Yes, Rob, I'm serious, at least right now. I'm skipping breakfast
at the moment because Joe asked me if I would make use of my waitressing
skills and help out Marcia. So I've chosen you as my first customer.
Before I write down your order, would you please take this hair band and
pull my hair into a ponytail. I can't do it with these two hooks of mine,
and Joe doesn't want my long hair to be in violation of state health
regulations." She handed him a silver colored hair band with her left hook
and turned around. Rob carefully pulled Carole's long dark blonde hair into
a ponytail and used the hair band to keep it in place. "Thanks, Rob, for
giving me a 'hand' with my hair. Now I actually look somewhat like a real
waitress."
Without even looking at the menu, Rob smiled and handed it back to
Carole. "I'd like the 'Pancake Platter' with blueberry syrup and a large
glass of orange juice." Carole used her left hook to grasp Rob's menu and
put it into the front pocket of her apron, and then she also used her left
hook to pull out her order pad from her apron pocket. She placed the pad on
the table and Rob watched as she expertly wrote "PP w/bbsy + lgOJ" on the
bill and "CZ" in the small space for the waitress' name. Even though Carole
wrote very slowly, her "hookwriting" was certainly as good as most any
handwriting that Rob had ever seen. Carole used her left hook to put the
order pad back into her apron pocket, and then she used her right hook to
carefully clip the pen in the corner of that pocket as she walked to the
kitchen.
In less than ten minutes, Carole returned to Rob's table carrying a
serving tray that held his order. After setting the tray down on the table,
Carole used her left hook to rotate her right hook, and then she used her
right hook to grasp Rob's large glass of orange juice and placed it down in
front of him. Carole then used her left hook to grasp Rob's plate of
pancakes, and as she steadied the plate with her right hook, she placed it
down directly in front of him. Lastly, Carole used her right hook to grasp
the handle of the pancake syrup server, and then she placed it down next to
his plate. "I hope that your entire order meets with your approval, sir.
I've given you an extra pancake because all of yours came out a little
smaller than we usually make them. Is there anything else that I can get
you, sir?"
"Thank you very much, miss. I'm sure that everything will be just
fine." Rob spread butter over his hot pancakes and smothered them with
blueberry syrup. Carole left him to finish his breakfast. As famished as
he was, it took Rob only about five minutes to eat all of his pancakes and
drink his large glass of orange juice. Carole had been watching him, so she
knew that Rob was now all finished with his breakfast. Carole quickly
walked back over to Rob.
"Would you care for anything else, sir? How was your meal?"
"No thank you, miss. My juice and my pancakes were absolutely
superb, just like your service! May I please have my bill?"
"Thank you for your very nice compliments, sir. I'll be sure to tell
Joe that you enjoyed your meal. Here's your bill." Carole used her left
hook and handed Rob his bill, and then she used both of her hooks to collect
Rob's glass, his silverware, and his napkin and put them on his plate.
While Rob was getting out his wallet, Carole used her right hook to grasp
the pancake syrup server, and she used her left hook to grasp the plate full
of items, and then she carefully carried everything back to the kitchen.
Carole immediately came back to Rob's table and sat down across from him.
"This is the first time that I've tried waitressing with my two artificial
arms with my two hooks. Honestly, Rob, how did I do as a waitress?"
"You were just great, Carole. It's obvious that you've been
waitressing for quite a while, and, once again, you've amazed me with
everything that you did with your two hooks. I'm positive that you're
skilled enough that you could waitress in just about any restaurant. Here's
your tip!" Rob held out a two-dollar bill.
"Thanks for your encouragement, Rob. That's too much of a tip for
the amount of your bill, so I won't accept it. When you pay your bill, put
that tip in the 'Easter Seals' jar that's on top of the cash register. I've
always believed that two-dollar bills bring people good luck, and the
'Easter Seals' organization sure tries to bring good luck to all handicapped
children everywhere. Rob, Joe would like me to stay on and help him out
this morning until his next waitress gets here at nine. I can't lend him a
hand, not to mention two hands, but would you mind terribly if I did lend
him my two hooks, along with the rest of me?"
"I'll do as you've suggested with your tip, Carole. I think that
it'd be really terrific for you to do some more waitressing this morning.
Would you allow me to drive your new Mustang back to my apartment, so I
could take a short nap until you're all finished here? You already know my
phone number, so you can just give me a ring when you're all done, and then
I'll drive back here and pick you up."
"You look like you could use some sleep, Rob. It's fine with me if
you borrow my silver horse, so I'll get my car keys and meet you at the cash
register."
Rob and Carole both stood up and embraced each other in another
passionate hug and kiss. Rob went up to the cash register and paid Marcia
for his meal, and he put the two-dollar bill in the 'Easter Seals' jar.
After Carole gave him the keys to her silver Mustang, Rob left and Carole
returned to her waitressing duties. Although Rob and Carole's first date
was now over, their new and more intimate relationship was only just
beginning.
Both Rob and Carole continued teaching at Saint Joseph's Junior High
School, and they both continued dating one another quite regularly because
they were starting to fall in love. Carole worked at Joe's Diner whenever
Joe needed a waitress, but only on weekends. Rob worked on Carole's silver
Mustang whenever it needed maintenance, but only on those weekends when
Carole was waitressing.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
[*****]
DEBBIE'S DREAM JOB
(by Carole -- 02/14/01)
[This story is fictitious. However, Debbie, who is the main character in
this story, is a real person. Obviously, my mention of Carole is a
reference to myself. The twins Cassie and Carrie, while they are not
actually real people, are based on two real people whom I know quite well.
Of course, Aimee, Heather, Jamie, Shea, Melanie, Helen, Tracie, Catherine,
Vera, and Alexander, who all play important roles in this story, are well-
known real people. Lastly, the H. O. P. E. Foundation is indeed also real.]
(I was inspired to write this story because of my very close friendship with
Debbie, a DBE amputee who really enjoys wearing her matching pair of body-
powered prosthetic arms with their twin Sierra polished stainless steel
prosthetic wrists and their twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel
prosthetic hooks, and who also really enjoys wearing her leather corsets,
her extensive wardrobe of leather clothes, and her many pairs of high-heel
leather platform boots.)
As the jetliner approached the English countryside, Debbie Dorrance
watched with growing excitement. She had been awaiting this vacation ever
since she graduated from college three years ago. During those past three
years, while she was working full-time as a real estate saleswoman, Debbie
had saved up enough money to take a trip to London, England to celebrate her
25th birthday. She wanted to enjoy two weeks away from her job and do some
serious shopping. It was a cool but sunny day, and Debbie was pleased that
she had decided to wear several of her many black leather clothing items --
her boots, her dress, her jacket, and her newest and smallest corset, which
she had just recently purchased through the mail from C & C Leatherworks, a
London leather corset and clothing boutique. Debbie's black leather corset
fit her like a glove, and it reduced her normal waist of 24 inches down to
just 20 inches, giving her an hourglass 36C-20-36 figure. She could even
put on and take off her corset by herself, which is quite an accomplishment
for Debbie because she is a DBE -- double-below-elbow -- amputee who wears a
matching pair of prosthetic arms with twin Sierra polished stainless steel
wrists and twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks.
Debbie had been a leather clothing as well as leather corset
enthusiast for as long as she could remember, a long time before she blew
off both of her hands and both of her wrists while she was carelessly
playing with some fireworks when she was only 15 years old. During her
short vacation in London, Debbie hoped to buy quite a few more leather
clothing items and also at least one more leather corset. Debbie knew that
there were many clothing and corset stores in the London area, and she was
especially looking to purchase a smaller leather corset that would reduce
her waist even farther down to 18 inches. Little did Debbie know just how
soon she would obtain such a leather corset, and little did she realize just
how much her life would change during her "short vacation" in London.
After the plane landed and Debbie had gone through customs, she
gathered her luggage and went off to find her hotel. She had made hotel
reservations right near where most of London's clothing and corset stores
were located. Even though she was tired from her long flight, Debbie still
wanted to visit the C & C Leatherworks boutique just as soon as she checked
in and changed her clothes at her hotel.
After arriving at her hotel, Debbie unpacked her suitcases, got
undressed, and took a shower. She decided to wear the same black leather
corset, so she pulled tightly on its laces with both of her hooks, and then
she fastened the laces securely. Unlike most corsets, this corset of
Debbie's had its laces in the front, and those laces were fastened onto
special metal studs, so she could quite easily put it on and take it off
without anybody's help. Along with her corset, Debbie put on a short black
leather skirt and a black leather blouse with three-quarter length sleeves.
She completed her outfit with a new pair of black leather high-heel boots
that had 9-inch heels and 3-inch platform soles. Those boots increased her
height to 6'6" and made her look even slimmer than she actually was. After
thoroughly drying and carefully brushing her long platinum-streaked black
hair, Debbie was ready to go shopping. She hoped that she looked somewhat
attractive because she was especially pleased that all of her black leather
attire contrasted nicely with the platinum streaks in her long hair and the
twin polished stainless steel wrists and the twin polished stainless steel
of her twin prosthetic arms. Little did Debbie realize that this day would
be just the beginning of the most unusual and most enjoyable vacation of her
life!
London's sidewalks were very crowded as Debbie stepped out among the
large groups of people. She really liked wearing this particular black
leather outfit, and she smiled as her high-heel platform boots, her shapely
figure, her platinum-streaked hair, and especially her distinctive-looking
wrists and hooks drew the attention just about everyone who saw her. The
C & C Leatherworks boutique was only three blocks from her hotel. Once she
had arrived there, Debbie immediately noticed that it had an attractive
front window display showing many of the leather clothing items and leather
corsets that were sold there. Debbie looked in the window and glanced at
the wide variety of items on display, and then she intently studied the
mannequin that was standing in the center of the display. That mannequin
was wearing a long black wig, a black leather short-sleeve blouse with a
zipper front that fit tightly over its shapely bosom and exceptionally small
waist, and a pair of black leather jeans with unusual dual side zippers that
also fit tightly over its hourglass waist and very shapely legs. Both of
the mannequin's slender arms were covered up to its elbows with tight black
leather gloves, and both of its feet wore black leather high-heel platform
boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles. Almost immediately,
Debbie decided that she wanted to buy herself a black leather outfit just
exactly like the mannequin was wearing, except for the gloves, of course,
because she could not wear anything that would cover up or interfere with
her twin prosthetic wrists and her twin prosthetic hooks.
Debbie stepped inside of the large boutique, and the extensive
selection and the exquisite quality of everything that was being offered for
sale amazed her. It was unlike any store that Debbie had visited back in
the States, even those specialty boutiques that she had gone to in New York
City. This boutique had a wide array of leather clothing items of almost
every kind imaginable, including leather corsets of all styles, and it also
had an impressive array of leather high-heel footwear that included
everything from pumps to boots with heels ranging in height from 6 inches up
to an astounding 12 inches. Debbie had just started to look at a large
display of leather high-heel platform boots when a very attractive young
woman came up beside her and asked, "May I help you find anything in
particular?"
"Oh yes, you can!" said Debbie excitedly. "I've never in my entire
life seen such an amazing variety of leather clothing items and leather
corsets before, and I'd like to buy several of your leather clothing items
and at least one of your leather corsets to complement these leather clothes
that I'm wearing now."
"I am indeed very pleased to hear that," said the woman, "my name is
Cassie Smith, and my twin sister Carrie Smith and I own and operate this
boutique. We sell only the best quality leather clothing items and leather
corsets. Right now we are having a splendid sale on all of our leather
gloves, so I am sure that we can provide you with a pair of leather gloves
that will fit your hands just perfectly."
"Unfortunately, I can't wear any kind of gloves," said Debbie, as she
held up both of her hooks for Cassie to see. "I'm a DBE -- double-below-
elbow -- amputee, and I have to use these twin Sierra polished stainless
steel wrists and twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks of mine to
do just about everything that people like you do with your two hands, and
wearing anything at all over them would severely limit my ability to use
them. The stainless steel control cables and the elastic power bands that
open and close my twin hooks will not work properly if they're covered up
with anything. Also, I have to be able to rotate and angle each of my
prosthetic wrists to correctly position each of my prosthetic hooks in order
for me to use them most effectively, and I can't do that if I wear any
gloves or anything else over them. By the way, my name's Deborah Dorrance,
and I'm very pleased to meet you, Cassie," said Debbie as she politely
extended her right hook for Cassie to shake. "Most of my friends just call
me Debbie." As Debbie confidently shook Cassie's right hand with her right
hook, she couldn't help but notice that all four of Cassie's fingers on her
right hand were just very short stumps, and that each of those four finger
stumps was much less than an inch in length. Since Debbie could see only
very faint scars on each of Cassie's four finger stumps, she was quite
certain that Cassie had probably been a multiple-finger amputee for quite
some time.
"I truly apologize for being so insensitive and so rude, Debbie,"
remarked Cassie. "You certainly know how to dress to emphasize your most
attractive features, and I honestly had not noticed at first that you are
indeed a DBE amputee. I am positively amazed at how beautiful you look
wearing both of your prosthetic arms with their twin prosthetic wrists and
their twin prosthetic hooks. I am also equally amazed at how at ease you
are wearing them and how skillful you are using them. May I inquire as to
how long have you been wearing your pair of hooks? I am interested in
knowing that because my father has been a RAE -- right-above-elbow --
amputee ever since he lost most of his right arm in an unfortunate farming
accident when Carrie and I were quite young. He has worn a body-powered
prosthetic arm with a Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook for close to twenty years,
and he is just as skilled at using his single hook as you are at using your
pair of hooks. May I also ask if you are in any way related to the person
who originally invented the Dorrance prosthetic hook that so many arm-
amputees like yourself and my father wear?"
"You're certainly very observant and very knowledgeable, Cassie,"
remarked Debbie, "but you don't need to apologize for your remarks, and you
certainly weren't being insensitive or rude for asking me about these twin
hooks of mine. Quite often, people don't notice my pair of prosthetic arms,
my twin prosthetic wrists, and my twin prosthetic hooks right away, even
though I never try to hide the fact that I'm a DBE amputee. Both of my
hands were amputated just above my wrists, and because I still have my two
elbows and because my two forearm stumps are quite long, I'm able to easily
wear these heavier twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks along
with these heavier twin Sierra polished stainless steel wrists. All above-
elbow amputees like your father, because they don't have their elbows and
because their arm stumps are quite short, have to wear the lighter Dorrance
#5XA aluminum hooks and the lighter Dorrance aluminum wrists. Of course,
all above-elbow amputees like your father are much more skilled at using
their hooks than below-elbow amputees like myself are at using our hooks
because they have prosthetic elbows whereas we still have our real elbows.
I agree with you that polished stainless steel wrists and polished stainless
steel hooks like mine really look much more attractive than aluminum wrists
and aluminum hooks, and that's why I always keep my wrists and my hooks so
highly polished. I became a DBE amputee almost ten years ago, after I blew
off both of my hands and both of my wrists while I was carelessly playing
with some fireworks. I was only 15 years old at the time. Therefore, I
understand just how your father felt when he tragically lost most of his
right arm and had to wear a prosthetic arm with a prosthetic hook in its
place. And, yes, Delmar W. Dorrance, the American who invented the Dorrance
body-powered prosthetic hook back in 1912, was my great-grandfather. Just
like your father, he also became a RAE amputee as the result of a farming
accident. Incidentally, my parents purposely named me Deborah Delmar
Dorrance in honor of my great-grandfather because he passed away at the age
of 90 on the very same day when I was born. I guess it's quite ironic that
I ended up becoming a DBE amputee and having to wear these twin polished
stainless steel hooks that are almost exactly the same as the ones
originally designed by my late great-grandfather. My parents have always
told me that he'd be extremely proud of me because of just how well I've
learned how to use my twin hooks. Fortunately, both of my prosthetic wrists
and both of my prosthetic hooks are so well designed and so well made that I
can do many of the things that any normal person with two normal wrists and
two normal hands can do, although it takes me a little bit longer to do
almost everything. I've never let the amputations of both of my hands and
both of my wrists keep me from accomplishing any of the things that I've
really wanted to accomplish. I've nobody but myself to blame for being so
careless and becoming a DBE amputee, so I never waste my time wishing that I
still had both of my real hands and both of my real wrists. I've always
tried to lead as normal a life as I possibly could, so I finished high
school, I attended and graduated from college, and I've been successfully
selling residential and commercial real estate back in the States, the
United States, for the past three years."
"You certainly should be exceptionally proud of just how completely
you have recovered from the traumatic amputations of both of your hands as
well as both of your wrists, Debbie," said Cassie. "You should even be more
proud of just how well you have adapted to living your life with two
prosthetic hooks instead of two real hands. Not many people in this world
today could have done everything that you have done in your life after
suffering the traumatic accident that you did. Your twin Sierra polished
stainless steel wrists and your twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel
hooks really are very beautiful, and I think that they most certainly help
to emphasize the fact that you are indeed a very beautiful young woman. Do
you ever wear any kind of 'artificial hands' to hide the fact that you don't
have two real hands?"
"Thank you for your kind words, Cassie," remarked Debbie. "No, I've
never worn any kind of 'artificial hands' or 'cosmetic hands' because none
of them are as useful nor as reliable as these twin hooks of mine, and I've
really never tried to hide the very obvious fact that both of my hands as
well as both of my wrists have been amputated. Quite honestly, now I always
try to emphasize the fact that I'm a DBE amputee, and I know that nothing
draws everyone's attention to that fact any better than my twin polished
stainless steel wrists and my twin polished stainless steel hooks. I really
appreciate the empathy that you have for me, especially considering the fact
that you are also an amputee yourself. I've noticed that the four short
finger stumps on your right hand appear to be the result of some traumatic
accident that probably happened quite a few years ago. May I be so bold as
to inquire about your four amputated fingers?"
"Your inquiry is by no means bold, it is just perfectly natural,"
replied Cassie. "Quite simply, I amputated the four fingers of my right
hand at the very same time that I amputated the four fingers of my left
hand." Cassie then held up both of her hands side-by-side, and Debbie could
easily see that Cassie's left hand was almost a mirror image of her right
hand. All four of Cassie's fingers on her left hand were also just very
short stumps, and each of those four stumps was also much less than an inch
in length. "A little less than ten years ago, when I was only 16 years old,
I got a job working in a leather clothing factory. I was cutting very large
pieces of tanned leather into long strips for belts when I got careless
clearing a jam in the hydraulic leather shears, and I cut off almost the
entire length of each of my eight fingers. Fortunately, both of my thumbs
were untouched by the blades of the shears. I realize that I am
extraordinarily lucky because, in addition to still having my two normal
thumbs, I still have eight very usable finger stumps, even though they are
so short. Before I became a multiple-finger amputee, I had been seriously
planning on becoming a clothing fashion model, but I have given up on that
career since I do not know of any modeling agency that is willing to hire a
woman like me who has eight amputated fingers. I have chosen instead to be
a leather clothing and leather corset designer, and I not only design all of
the many leather items -- except for the leather footwear -- in this large
boutique, but I also help Carrie make all of those leather items here in our
own workshop. I can do just about anything that any normal person with
eight normal fingers can do, although it takes me a little bit longer to do
many of those things. Just like you, I have never let the amputations of my
eight fingers keep me from accomplishing any of the things that I have
really wanted to accomplish. I have nobody but myself to blame for being so
careless and becoming a multiple-finger amputee, so I never waste my time
wishing that I still had all eight of my normal fingers in addition to the
two normal thumbs that I still have. Just like you, I have never worn any
kind of 'artificial fingers' or 'cosmetic fingers' because none of them are
nearly as useful and as these eight short finger stumps of mine. Even
though I have never tried to hide the fact that I am a multiple-finger
amputee, I would not go so far as to say that I purposely like to draw
people's attention to my eight amputated fingers."
"You should be very proud of just how completely you have recovered
from the traumatic amputations of your eight fingers," said Debbie. "You've
certainly adapted very well to using all of your finger stumps in designing
and making all of your high quality leather clothing items and leather
corsets, Cassie. It's truly amazing that you've become such a talented
designer and maker of leather clothing. Your eight very short finger stumps
certainly don't detract at all from the fact that you're indeed a very
beautiful young woman. In fact, I think that they actually emphasize your
overall beauty, and I also think that wearing any kind of 'artificial
fingers' or 'cosmetic fingers' would make your hands look unnatural and
would detract from your overall beauty."
"Thank you for your kind words, Debbie," remarked Cassie. "Hearing
those words from someone like yourself makes them even nicer and more
sincere, especially because you have so successfully overcome the amputation
of both of your wrists and both of your hands and because you now function
with a pair of stainless steel wrists and a pair of stainless steel hooks in
their place. Do you see any particular leather clothing items in our
boutique that you would perhaps be interested in purchasing?"
"I would like to buy a black leather blouse, a pair of black leather
jeans, and a pair of black leather high-heel platform boots exactly like the
ones you have displayed on the mannequin in your front window display," said
Debbie. However, the main reason that I came here is to purchase a new
black leather corset that will make my waist another two inches smaller than
it is now. I've not been able to find such a black leather corset anywhere
back in the States. The corset that I'm wearing now I purchased from your
boutique a few months ago through the mail."
Cassie looked at Debbie and replied, "I was quite sure that you were
wearing some kind of leather corset under that black leather blouse of
yours! Your leather corset certainly has made your waist very small, but
you could easily reduce it by at least another two inches, or perhaps even
as much as four inches, with one of our special custom-made leather corsets.
Just how small is your waist, Debbie?"
"My natural waist is 24 inches, but for the past six years I've been
reducing it by wearing successively smaller and smaller leather corsets.
Right now, wearing this leather corset, my waist is only 20 inches,"
remarked Debbie, pointing to her waist with her twin hooks. "I would be
absolutely thrilled if you could make me a new black leather corset that
would reduce my waist another two inches to just 18 inches. However, I
don't believe that it would be physically possible for me to reduce my waist
any more than that."
Cassie then asked, "How long will you be staying here in London?"
"I'll only be staying here for two weeks," sighed Debbie, "and then I
have to return to the States to continue selling real estate."
"Wonderful," said Cassie, "I shall have Carrie measure you right now
for a new leather corset that will reduce your waist to exactly 18 inches.
Then we can easily have your leather corset completely finished and ready
for you to wear within the next two days."
Debbie could hardly believe that she had just arrived in London, and
already she was going to get a new leather corset that would reduce her
waist to just 18 inches. She was absolutely thrilled! "What are we waiting
for?" Debbie asked.
Cassie took Debbie to the back of the store where there were two
exquisite fitting rooms and the workshop area where all of the boutique's
custom-made leather clothing and leather corsets were made. Cassie went
back to the front of the store, and another very attractive young woman
immediately joined Debbie. "Hello, my name is Carrie Smith, and my twin
sister, Cassie Smith, and I own and operate this store." Carrie and Cassie
were obviously identical twins because they looked, dressed, and even spoke
exactly alike, except that Carrie wore glasses which had very unusual-
looking lenses that were almost an inch thick, and Cassie had eight very
short finger stumps which were all much less than an inch long. As Carrie
extended her right hand and Debbie confidently shook it with her right hook,
it was obvious that Carrie was not at all surprised that Debbie had twin
stainless steel wrists and twin stainless steel hooks instead of two real
wrists and two real hands.
"I shall just need a few moments to take all of the measurements
required for us to make you a new leather corset as well as any other
leather clothing items that you wish to purchase at our boutique." All the
while that she was taking Debbie's measurements, Carrie focused very
intently on her work, and she always looked directly at exactly what she was
doing. After about five minutes, Carrie was all done measuring Debbie, and
both of them walked back to the front of the store. As they were walking,
Carrie looked directly at Debbie and remarked, "I am positively amazed at
how beautiful you look wearing both of your prosthetic arms with their twin
prosthetic wrists and their twin prosthetic hooks. I am also equally amazed
at how at ease you are wearing them and how skillful you are using them.
May I inquire as to how long have you been wearing your pair of hooks? I
believe Cassie has already told you that our father has been a RAE -- right-
above-elbow -- amputee ever since he lost most of his right arm in an
unfortunate farming accident when Cassie and I were quite young. He has
worn a body-powered prosthetic arm with a Dorrance #5XA aluminum hook for
close to twenty years, and he is just as skilled at using his single hook as
you are at using your pair of hooks."
"You're certainly very observant and very knowledgeable, Carrie,"
replied Debbie, "but you're not at all insensitive or rude for asking me
about these twin hooks of mine. I've been wearing a matching pair of body-
powered prosthetic arms with twin Sierra stainless steel wrists and twin
Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks for almost ten years. I became
a DBE amputee almost ten years ago, after I blew off both of my hands and
both of my wrists while I was carelessly playing with some fireworks. I was
only 15 years old at the time. I've never worn any kind of 'artificial
hands' or 'cosmetic hands' because none of them are as useful nor as
reliable as these twin prosthetic hooks of mine, and I've really never tried
to hide the very obvious fact that both of my hands as well as both of my
wrists have been amputated. Quite honestly, now I always try to emphasize
the fact that I'm a DBE amputee, and I know that nothing draws everyone's
attention to that fact any better than my twin polished stainless steel
wrists and my twin polished stainless steel hooks. I really appreciate the
empathy that you have for me. I've never let the amputations of both of my
hands and both of my wrists keep me from accomplishing any of the things
that I've really wanted to accomplish. I've nobody but myself to blame for
being so careless and becoming a DBE amputee, so I never waste my time
wishing that I still had both of my real hands and both of my real wrists.
Yes, Cassie has already told me about your father and his unfortunate
farming accident, and she also told me how skilled he is at using his single
hook. Of course, all above-elbow amputees like your father have prosthetic
elbows, so they're much more skilled at using their hooks than below-elbow
amputees like myself are at using our hooks because we still have our real
elbows."
"You certainly should be exceptionally proud of just how completely
you have recovered from the traumatic amputations of both of your hands as
well as both of your wrists, Debbie," said Carrie. "You should be even more
proud of just how well you have adapted to living your life with two
prosthetic hooks instead of two real hands. Not many people in this world
today could have done everything that you have done in your life after
suffering the traumatic accident that you did. Your twin Sierra polished
stainless steel wrists and your twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel
hooks really are very beautiful, and I think that they most certainly help
to emphasize the fact that you are indeed a very beautiful young woman."
"Thank you very much for your compliments, Carrie," said Debbie.
I've tried to make these twin stainless steel wrists and these twin
stainless steel hooks of mine as beautiful as I possibly can, so I always
try to keep them highly polished. I guess you could say that I now consider
my twin prosthetic wrists and my twin prosthetic hooks to be my very own
kind of metal body 'jewelry' because I've never worn any rings, watches,
bracelets, necklaces, earrings, or any other kind of jewelry, even before I
so carelessly became a DBE amputee."
Then Carrie inquired, "Did Cassie explain to you how she became a
multiple-finger amputee herself?"
Debbie replied, "Yes, I first saw her four finger stumps on her right
hand, and then she showed me her four finger stumps on her left hand and
explained to me all about her very unfortunate accident. It's a shame that
she had to give up her dream of being a clothing fashion model, but it's
truly amazing that she's become such a talented designer and maker of
leather clothing, just like you've become."
Carrie next asked Debbie, "You can see that I wear glasses with
unusual-looking and extremely thick lenses, so would you like me to tell you
all about my very severe vision problem?"
"Yes," replied Debbie. "I've noticed how unusual-looking and how
extremely thick the lenses of your glasses are, and it's very obvious that
they make your eyes look exceptionally small, so I know that you must be
extremely myopic. Even though I have 20/20 vision and I've never worn
glasses, a very good friend of mine, Carole, is severely myopic. She was
born quite myopic, and her myopia steadily increased as she got older, and
Carole is now has severe myopia and wears glasses with unusual-looking
lenses that are identical in design to yours, although they are not quite as
thick as yours. If I remember correctly, her prescription is -16.00d in her
one eye and -16.50d in her other eye, and the unusual-looking lenses in her
glasses are referred to as myodisc lenses. Even though Carole has severely
myopia, her corrected vision when she is wearing her glasses is 20/20.
Based on what I know about Carole's severe myopia and her glasses, I would
guess that you are probably a lot more myopic than Carole is."
"You are certainly very observant and very knowledgeable, Debbie,"
remarked Carrie. Yes, I am indeed very much more myopic than Carole is
because I have extremely severe myopia. Unlike Carole, I was born with
perfectly normal vision, but I did become mildly myopic as I got older
because I was such an avid reader. By the time I was 16 years old, my
prescription was only -3.00d for my right eye and also only -3.00d for my
left eye. I very much disliked having to wear glasses because Cassie had
perfect 20/20 vision and did not need to wear glasses. It was at that time,
a little less than ten years ago, that I became one of the very first people
in England to undergo experimental laser eye surgery because I foolishly
thought that having laser eye surgery would completely eliminate my mild
myopia. For some unknown reason, the laser that was used to perform my eye
surgery did not function as it should have. So, instead of completely
eliminating my myopia, my myopia was actually increased more than ten times,
so my prescription for my right eye became -33.00d, and my prescription for
my left eye also became -33.00d. It is ironic that the very same day I
became an extremely severe myope was also the exact same day Cassie, my twin
sister, became a multiple-finger amputee. Fortunately, my extremely severe
myopia has not increased very much since my unsuccessful laser eye surgery,
and now my prescription has stabilized at -36.00d for my right eye and
-36.00d for my left eye. That is why the glasses I must wear have these
myodisc lenses that are almost 25 mm thick. If I take off my glasses, what
I can just barely see at a distance of 2 inches, a person with normal 20/20
vision like you can easily see at a distance of 50 feet! When I am wearing
my glasses, my corrected vision is almost normal because it is 20/30, but my
peripheral vision is so extremely limited and so terribly distorted that I
must pretty much look straight at anything that I want to see with 20/30
clarity. Just like Cassie, I too had been seriously planning on becoming a
clothing fashion model, but I have also given up on that career since I do
not know of any modeling agency that is willing to hire a woman like me who
must wear glasses with such unusual-looking and such extremely thick lenses,
and who is also virtually blind when she is not wearing her glasses. I have
chosen instead to be a leather clothing and leather corset maker, and I make
most of the leather items -- except for the leather footwear -- that we sell
in our boutique in our own workshop, and I even help Cassie design some of
those items. I can do just about anything that any normal person with
normal 20/20 vision can do, although it quite often is a little difficult,
and it usually takes a little longer, for me to do quite a few of those
things. I have never let my extremely severe myopia keep me from
accomplishing any of the things that I have really wanted to accomplish. I
have nobody but myself to blame for being so careless and becoming such an
extremely severe myope, so I never waste my time wishing that I still had
only mild myopia. I have never worn any kind of contact lenses because no
contact lenses will give me anywhere near the 20/30 vision that my glasses
give me, nor will any contact lenses give me any more nor any better
peripheral vision than my glasses give me. Even though I have never tried
to hide the fact that I have extremely severe myopia and must wear these
glasses of mine in order to see somewhat normally, I would not go so far as
to say that I purposely like to draw people's attention to my glasses with
their extremely thick myodisc lenses. Cassie and I quite often explain to
people that because she has eight amputated fingers and because I am an
extremely severe myope and wear glasses with unusual-looking and extremely
thick lenses, it is very easy for them to tell us apart!"
"You should be very proud of just how completely you have recovered
from the devastating results of your disastrous eye surgery. You've
certainly adapted very well to wearing your glasses with their extremely
thick myodisc lenses, Carrie, and it's amazing how well you do things with
such extremely limited and terribly distorted peripheral vision, even though
your corrected vision is 20/30," said Debbie. "It's truly amazing that
you've become such a talented designer and maker of leather clothing. Your
glasses with their extremely thick myodisc lenses certainly don't detract at
all from the fact that you're indeed a very beautiful young woman. In fact,
I think that they actually emphasize your overall beauty, and I think that
wearing any kind of contact lenses certainly wouldn't do anything to
emphasize your overall beauty at all. And I often tell people that because
I'm a DBE amputee and because I wear a matching pair of prosthetic arms with
twin DORRANCE #5X polished stainless steel hooks, it's easy for them to
remember my name, DeBBiE DORRANCE!"
"Thank you for your kind words, Debbie," remarked Carrie. "Hearing
those words from someone like yourself makes them even nicer and more
sincere, especially because you have so successfully overcome the amputation
of both of your wrists and both of your hands and because you now function
with a pair of stainless steel wrists and a pair of stainless steel hooks in
their place."
"Now that I have all of your measurements," remarked Carrie, "I shall
begin making your new black leather corset just as soon as I can. For right
now, may I help you to find any of our other leather clothing items in your
size?"
"Please be sure to make my new black leather corset with its laces in
the front, Carrie," said Debbie, "so I can put it on and take it off all by
myself using my twin hooks. Yes, I would definitely like to purchase the
black leather blouse, the black leather jeans, and also the black leather
high-heel platform boots with the 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles
that the mannequin in your front window display is wearing. Then I'd look
almost like your mannequin, except, of course, that my twin polished
stainless steel wrists and twin polished stainless steel hooks would be
totally exposed and not covered up with a pair of black leather gloves!"
"I can get you all of those items," said Carrie. We should have
those high-heel platform boots in stock in your size, but we shall have to
custom-make the blouse and jeans for you because we do not have any clothes
in stock, other than the ones that are on the mannequin, to fit anyone with
such a diminutive 20-inch waist as you have. If you want that to have that
blouse and those jeans today, you could wear the ones that are on the
mannequin, if you do not object. Amazingly, both you and the mannequin have
the exact same clothing measurements, except that your feet are 2 sizes
bigger than the mannequin's feet."
"I'll gladly wear the mannequin's black leather blouse and black
leather jeans, just as long as you can find an identical pair of black
leather high-heel platform boots that are in my size," replied Debbie. "Of
course, I'll definitely want to try the blouse and jeans on to see just what
they look like on me, and I can't wait to see how tall I really look in
high-heel platform boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles."
"I shall get you the black leather high-heel boots in your size, and
I shall have Cassie take both the black leather blouse and the black leather
jeans off of our mannequin for you," said Carrie.
In a few minutes, Debbie had the boots, the blouse, and the jeans and
went off towards the fitting rooms. As she walked past the two sisters,
Cassie asked, "Will you need any help getting any of those things on? One
of us would be more than happy to help you if you should require any
assistance."
"Thanks for offering to help me," Debbie replied, but I can manage
just fine because I don't have to deal with any buttons, and I'm really
quite proficient dealing with zippers. The zippers on the blouse, jeans,
and boots will take me a little while to open and close with these twin
hooks of mine, but I'm in no hurry, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes
for me."
"That shall be just fine," said Cassie.
"Take your time, Debbie," concurred Carrie.
Debbie went into the dressing room after opening the door with her
left hook. By carefully rotating and angling her twin wrists, she was able
to use each of her twin hooks to unzip the zippers on her boots, her blouse,
and her skirt and then easily slip all of them off. Debbie then put on the
leather jeans, which was not a very easy task because they were really quite
tight. However, they fit perfectly around her hips and her waist, and once
she had pulled them into position, she zipped up the zippers on each side of
the jeans without any problems. Next Debbie pulled on the leather high-heel
platform boots and found that they also fit perfectly. She easily zipped
the single outside zipper on each boot and then stood up. What a surprise!
Debbie had never before worn boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform
soles, but she was very pleased with how comfortable they felt, and she was
absolutely ecstatic with the fact that they made her an amazing 6'9" tall.
All that Debbie had to do to finish dressing was to put on the leather
blouse, but as soon as she tried to put either one of her twin prosthetic
arms into its sleeve of the blouse, she realized that there was a slight
problem. Both of the sleeves of the blouse were just a little bit too
narrow to allow her to get both of her prosthetic arms and both of her hooks
through them. Even if Debbie had been able to force the sleeves over her
pair of prosthetic arms and her hooks, the tight leather sleeves would never
allow her to operate the single control cable that opened each of her twin
hooks, making her hooks quite useless. Therefore, Debbie removed her pair
of prosthetic arms along with her figure-eight harness that allowed her to
operate her twin hooks, and she then tried on the blouse over her two
totally handless arm stumps. Within a few minutes, she had easily
accomplished getting the blouse on, and then Debbie skillfully used her twin
bare arm stumps to open the door of the dressing room. Stepping out of the
dressing room, Debbie very carefully and very slowly walked towards the
front of the boutique. When she was directly behind Carrie and Cassie,
Debbie asked, "Could one of you help me for just a minute? I've got a
slight problem that I'm not able to take care of all by myself."
"Of course, Debbie," said Carrie, "Just what may I do to help you?"
"I need one of you to zip up the zipper on my blouse," answered
Debbie, "because I can't do it all by myself right at this moment."
"Oh Debbie," exclaimed Carrie when she saw Debbie's twin bare arm
stumps. "Whatever happened to your twin hooks? Are they broken? Did they
accidentally come off? Why are you not wearing them now?"
"My twin hooks are perfectly fine," remarked Debbie, "they aren't
broken, and they didn't accidentally come off. I had to take off both of my
prosthetic arms along with my figure-eight arm harness that allows me to
operate my twin hooks because both of the sleeves of this leather blouse are
just a little too narrow to allow me to get it on over them. If you would
just zip up this one zipper, then I can see how well this blouse fits me."
Carrie quickly zipped up the zipper, and then Debbie carefully walked
over to the full-length mirror in the front of the boutique to see exactly
what she looked like in her new black leather outfit. The first thing that
she noticed was how much taller she was wearing the black leather high-heel
platform boots. Those boots not only added 12 inches to her height, but
they also made her hourglass figure look even shapelier. The next thing
Debbie noticed was the ends of her twin bare arm stumps because, even though
it had been ten years since she had become a DBE amputee, the telltale scars
on her twin stumps were still very visible. Debbie thought that she
definitely looked somewhat "naked" because she was not wearing her matching
pair of body-powered prosthetic arms with her twin Sierra polished stainless
steel wrists and her twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks.
However, Debbie was very pleased with how well the tight leather blouse fit
her, especially around her bosom, and she was also very pleased with how
well the tight leather jeans fit her, especially around her hips. And of
course, Debbie was really thrilled with how both the blouse and the jeans
emphasized her 20-inch waist. Overall, Debbie thought that, except for her
twin stumps, the combination of her long platinum-streaked black hair, her
black leather blouse, her black leather jeans, and especially her black
leather high-heel platform boots made her look quite attractive. Debbie
also thought that wearing her pair prosthetic arms with her twin wrists and
her twin hooks would definitely complement the platinum streaks in her hair
and would make her look even more attractive.
Debbie announced to both Cassie and Carrie, "I really like the way
that I look wearing all of these black leather clothing items, except that
my two ugly, scarred arm stumps most definitely look quite disgusting. I
almost never let anyone see my twin bare arm stumps because they obviously
look so hideous. I guess that I'll have to cover up both of them with
something. Do either of you two have any ideas or suggestions for what I
should do to hide these two ugly arm stumps of mine?"
"Oh Debbie," responded Cassie, "I shall just have to make you a
special pair of stump "gloves" out of the same black leather that the rest
of your clothes are made from. Actually, I shall modify the mannequin's
gloves to fit your two arms. Shortly after I carelessly amputated all eight
of my fingers, I modified a new pair of leather gloves to fit over my eight
very short finger stumps. I only wore those modified gloves for a few
weeks, and then I finally decided that I did not need to try to hide my
eight short finger stumps. I am quite sure that I can modify the
mannequin's leather gloves to fit your two arms." Then Cassie very quickly
measured both of Debbie's arm stumps.
"Please don't refer to my two arm stumps as my two 'arms' because I
don't have a normal pair of arms, I have a matching pair of arm stumps,"
said Debbie. "And please don't refer to my twin Sierra polished stainless
steel wrists as 'artificial wrists' and don't refer to my twin Dorrance #5X
polished stainless steel hooks as 'artificial hands' because I don't have
artificial wrists or artificial hands, I have a matching pair of polished
stainless steel wrists and a matching pair of polished stainless steel
hooks."
Cassie went to the back workshop area of the boutique to make the
special pair of "gloves" for Debbie, and while she was busy cutting and
sewing, Carrie checked the fit of Debbie's black leather blouse, jeans, and
boots. "I must say, Debbie, everything fits your absolutely perfectly,"
said Cassie. "How does everything feel to you?"
"Everything fits fine and feels just great," replied Debbie. "These
boots will take a little bit of getting used to because I've never worn
boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles before in my entire life.
Of course, I sure wish that I was wearing my matching pair of prosthetic
arms with their twin stainless steel wrists and their twin stainless steel
hooks underneath this leather blouse."
"You need not worry one little bit," said Carrie. "I am positive
that Cassie can modify another black leather blouse so that it will allow
you to quite comfortably wear your two prosthetic arms with their twin
prosthetic wrists and twin prosthetic hooks, while still fitting properly
over the rest of your torso. It should certainly fit just as perfectly as
your jeans and your high-heel platform boots."
Just then, Cassie walked over to Debbie and said, "Debbie, please try
these on," as she handed Debbie the two 'gloves' for her twin arm stumps.
"I believe that you shall find that they will fit your twin arm stumps quite
nicely, and they should also be so comfortable that you shall hardly know
that you are wearing them."
Debbie replied, "I'm afraid that you'll have to help me put those
'gloves' on. Since I'm not wearing my twin hooks, I can't hold anything
unless I use both of my twin arm stumps together at the same time. I could
probably manage to put them on all by myself, but it would certainly be
rather difficult and take me quite a long time."
Cassie was embarrassed, so she said, "Please forgive me for not
thinking, Debbie. Let me put these 'gloves' on your two arm stumps."
The "gloves" went on easily even though they fit her twin arm stumps
very snugly, and they were indeed very comfortable. Debbie was amazed at
how beautiful her twin arm stumps looked when they were covered with smooth
black leather. Even though the 'gloves' emphasized the fact that she lacked
both of her hands and both of her wrists, she really liked how they
perfectly followed the rounded outlines of her twin arm stumps. Debbie held
both of her twin arm stumps directly out in front of her and remarked, "I
look quite a bit like a mannequin with both of its hands completely broken
off!"
"You certainly are more beautiful than any mannequin that we have
ever had in our boutique's front window display," exclaimed Cassie.
Carrie added, "I definitely agree, you are indeed much more beautiful
than any mannequin could ever be!"
"Perhaps I could be a temporary 'human mannequin' as a part of your
window display, Carrie," suggested Debbie. "Cassie, I could pretend to be a
mannequin while you are busy modifying my black leather blouse to fit over
my pair of prosthetic arms their twin wrists and their twin hooks. That
would give me something to do to occupy my time while I'm waiting for you to
complete the alterations to my blouse."
"That surely is a rather unusual, but nonetheless excellent, idea,
Debbie," remarked Carrie. "Don't you agree, Cassie?"
"Debbie, you shall certainly make a gorgeous 'human mannequin' in our
front window display," remarked Cassie. "I shall get right to work
modifying your black leather blouse while you and Carrie work together to
get our boutique's front window display in order."
Debbie went with Carrie to set up a new front window display for the
boutique. The two of them removed the now naked mannequin, and they
rearranged some of the clothing items that were in the display to make sure
that there was plenty of room for Debbie to stand without knocking into
anything when she needed to move around every once and awhile.
"Here, Debbie, you shall have to wear these sunglasses in order to
look more like a mannequin," said Carrie. "They have mirrored lenses which
will hide your eyes, so people will not be able to see when you blink or
move your eyes. For several weeks after I foolishly chose to have
unsuccessful laser eye surgery, I would quite often wear a pair of glasses
with mirrored myodisc mirrored lenses because I did not want people to see
how exceptionally small my eyes are, and also because I did not want people
to see how very unusual-looking the myodisc lenses of my glasses are. I
only wore those glasses with their mirrored lenses for a few weeks, and then
I finally decided that I did not need to try to hide my exceptionally tiny
eyes or my glasses with their very thick myodisc lenses."
Debbie skillfully put on the sunglasses using her twin "gloved" arm
stumps, and then she carefully took her place in the center of the window
display. She tried to assume her best model's pose with her twin "gloved"
arm stumps resting on either side of her 20-inch waist because she wanted
people to focus their attention not only on her diminutive waist, but also
on her twin arm stumps as well.
During the next several hours that Debbie was a "human mannequin" in
the window
display, she managed to fool everyone who looked at her. All
that anyone saw as they walked by the front window of the boutique was a
very attractive, motionless, speechless "mannequin" with long platinum-
streaked black hair, dressed entirely in black leather clothing items,
wearing a pair of short black leather "gloves" that covered what appeared to
be its two broken-off hands, and also wearing a pair of black leather high-
heel boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles. It wasn't always
easy for Debbie to keep still, especially if several people stared at her at
the same time, but she enjoyed being on display in the boutique's front
window. When she knew that nobody was looking at her, Debbie changed her
body position very slightly, so she didn't get the least bit cramped or
fatigued, and she always kept her twin "gloved" arm stumps resting on either
side of her 20-inch waist. Carrie checked with Debbie about every twenty
minutes to see how she was doing.
Carrie finally said to Debbie, "Cassie has just finished modifying
your black leather blouse, so you had better take a break from being a
"human mannequin" and try on your blouse to be absolutely certain that it
fits properly over your two prosthetic arms and your arm harness."
Just as Debbie was going to move, a very beautiful young woman
stopped and looked right at her. Debbie immediately froze, not so much
because she had almost been caught pretending to be a "mannequin" in the
boutique's front window display, but mainly because she was quite positive
that she knew that woman! The young woman walked into the boutique, and as
she was walking over towards one of the clothing displays, Debbie slowly
walked up beside of her and remarked, "Aimee, Aimee Mullins, do you remember
me? We met at a high school softball tournament about six years ago."
The young woman turned around and looked at Debbie for a few moments
and questioned, "Aren't you Debbie, Debbie Dorrance, the manager of the
"Diamond Debutantes" softball team that defeated us in the U. S. Eastern
Regional Cinderella Softball Tournament when I was a junior in high school?"
"Yes," Debbie replied. "I was a high school senior at the time. We
wrote each other several times right after the tournament, and I've kept
every one of your letters. Aimee, you don't know how much you've helped me
-- it was you who finally convinced me that even though I was a DBE amputee,
I could still be just as successful living my life with a pair of prosthetic
arms with twin prosthetic wrists and twin prosthetic hooks as I could if I
still had two normal arms with two normal wrists and two normal hands. And
just as importantly, you impressed upon me the value of getting a good
education, so after I finished high school, I went to college just as you
suggested. I graduated from college three years ago with a B. S. Degree in
Business Management, and ever since that time, I've been earning a very good
living as a licensed real estate saleswoman. I just arrived here in London
today, and I'll be vacationing here for two weeks as a celebration for my
25th birthday."
"That's fantastic," exclaimed Aimee. "I'm so happy for you!"
Aimee and Debbie simultaneously hugged one another. Debbie felt
funny to be hugging someone with just her twin arm stumps because she was
always used to giving hugs while she was wearing both of her prosthetic arms
with her twin hooks. During the entire time that they were hugging each
other, neither Aimee nor Debbie said anything. They were both quite
thrilled to once again meet one another, and it was obvious that they had
developed a very strong and long-lasting friendship.
Aimee then asked, "You haven't given up wearing your two prosthetic
arms with their twin stainless steel wrists and twin stainless steel hooks,
have you? If you haven't given up wearing them, then how come you're not
wearing them now?"
"Oh, no, I'll never be able to give up wearing my pair of prosthetic
arms with their twin hooks," Debbie exclaimed. Then she told Aimee why she
wasn't wearing her twin hooks, and she also explained why she was now
wearing a pair of black leather "gloves" over her twin arm stumps.
Aimee smiled and replied, "What you're doing sounds like something
I'd do myself, that is, if I ever had the opportunity. I could take off
these twin prosthetic legs of mine, put on a pair of tight black leather
pants that were specially tailored to fit over my twin leg stumps just like
your "gloves" have been tailored to fit over your twin arm stumps, and also
put on a pair of sunglasses with mirrored lenses just like the ones that
you're wearing. Then I could sit down on a chair right next to you and be a
"human mannequin" just like you. Together, we'd be just like a couple of
broken mannequins, one missing both of its feet, and the other missing both
of its hands! We'd certainly get the attention and stares of everybody who
saw us."
Debbie replied, "Yes, but we'd have two more real hands and two more
real feet than any two unbroken mannequins! And if I wanted to look like an
unbroken mannequin, I could just tape a pair of spare mannequin hands to my
twin arm stumps. As long as I kept those mannequin hands resting on my
hips, they would stay in place and look exactly like a real mannequin's
hands."
Aimee added, "And if I wanted to look like an unbroken mannequin, I
could just tape a pair of spare mannequin feet to my twin leg stumps. As
long as I kept seated, those mannequin feet would stay in place and look
exactly like a real mannequin's feet."
Obviously, neither Debbie nor Aimee was the least bit self-conscious
about making jokes pertaining to their amputated limbs. Obviously, they had
both learned years ago that in order to fully accept their twin amputations,
they needed to be able to make jokes about them, and they were certainly
quite good at making jokes about their amputated limbs.
Then Aimee inquired, "I've never seen boots with such high heels
combined with such high platform soles! Just how high are those heels and
those platform soles, Debbie, and how do you manage to walk so well when
you're wearing them?"
Debbie replied, "These heels are 12 inches high, but these platform
soles are 6 inches high, so wearing these high-heel boots is pretty much
like wearing regular shoes or boots that have 6-inch high-heels. And I
can't walk nearly as well in these high-heel boots as you did when you
walked down that long London fashion show runway wearing your pair of
specially carved wooden prosthetic legs that looked just like they were a
fancy pair of high-heel boots!"
"Debbie, don't forget that I've had more than 20 years of practice
wearing all kinds of twin prosthetic legs, so I should be able to walk quite
well with just about anything that can be attached to my two leg stumps,"
remarked Aimee.
Debbie and Aimee spent several more minutes talking about how each of
their lives had progressed since they last saw one another more than seven
years ago. Each of them was interested in all of the things that the other
had accomplished. Debbie learned that Aimee had come to this particular
boutique in London as part of her search to find and recruit "disabled but
not disfigured" models for an upcoming fashion show that she and fellow
amputee Heather Mills were organizing to raise funds for Aimee's H. O. P. E.
-- Helping Others Perform Excellently -- Foundation. Aimee then explained
that she had already recruited Heather -- who is an LBK (left-below-knee)
amputee, along with Jamie Goldman and Shea Cowart -- who are both DBK
(double-below-knee) amputees, Melanie Benn and Helen Smith -- who are both
DBE (double-below-elbow) as well as DAK (double-above-knee) amputees, Tracie
DeJong -- who is a DAE (double-above-elbow) amputee, Catherine Long -- who
is LSD (left-shoulder-disarticulation) amputee, and Vera Little -- who is
missing all or part of both of her thumbs and all eight of her fingers, as
well as also being a DBK (double-below-knee) amputee. Now, Aimee was
looking for some more "disabled but not disfigured" young women who would be
willing to donate some of their time for her very charitable organization.
Debbie was certainly willing to join Aimee and those eight other amputee
women to help them raise, and Aimee was thrilled to accept her help. Debbie
then told Aimee about Cassie's eight amputated fingers and also about
Carrie's extremely severe myopia, and Debbie suggested to Aimee that she ask
both Cassie and Carrie to also help by joining all of the other "disabled
but not disfigured" models.
After Aimee told both Cassie and Carrie about her search to find and
recruit a few more "disabled but not disfigured" models for the upcoming
fashion show, both of those twins were also quite willing to help Aimee,
Debbie, and the nine other amputee women. Now Aimee had twelve beautiful
"disabled but not disfigured" young women, all of whom had valiantly
overcome their "disabilities" and were leading very successful lives.
Aimee now had to leave to meet with some of London's best fashion
designers in order to make some of the preliminary plans for the upcoming
fashion show, so she said "good-bye" to Debbie and her new friends Cassie
and Carrie. All of them agreed to get together with the eight other amputee
models just as soon as they could to prepare for the fashion show.
Since Cassie had now finished modifying Debbie's black leather
blouse, she brought it to her and said, "Try this on to be sure that it fits
easily over your two prosthetic arms and your arm harness."
Debbie had Cassie unzip the front zipper of her black leather blouse
and then went back into the dressing room. She removed her blouse and put
on her twin prosthetic arms and her figure-eight arm harness, and then she
put on her new black leather blouse. Debbie was easily able to put it on
and zip its front zipper with her twin hooks, and the blouse fit just as
perfectly as the other leather clothing items that she was wearing. She
stepped out of the dressing room, walked over to Cassie and Carrie, and
asked, "How do I look?"
"Just fabulous," remarked Cassie.
"Absolutely stunning," concurred Carrie.
"Well, it's getting quite late, so I'd better pay you two for all of
my new leather clothing items, so you both can close up this wonderful
boutique of yours and go home," replied Debbie.
"My heavens," said Cassie, "it is already close to half past six. I
had no idea that the evening was already upon us. Carrie and I usually stop
to eat a light supper before we go home. Would you care to join us,
Debbie?"
"I'd be delighted," replied Debbie. "That would give me a chance to
show off my new outfit." She then paid for her new blouse, her new jeans,
and her new boots, and she carried her other clothes with her as the three
of them went out to eat. They went to a delightful little London pub that
was only a short distance away from the boutique. It was a very crowded
place where both Cassie and Carrie were both well-known and regular
customers. Debbie certainly gathered a lot of attention and stares, as she
knew she would, because of her long platinum-streaked black hair, her
beautiful black leather blouse, black leather jeans, and black leather high-
heel platform boots. However, Debbie knew that most of the attention and
most of the stares that she received were probably directed at her 20-inch
waist as well as her matching pair of prosthetic arms with their twin Sierra
polished stainless steel wrists and twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless
steel hooks. The three young women enjoyed their meal together, and they
soon all went their separate ways as a very enjoyable conclusion to their
very exciting day.
Debbie was quite exhausted after such a busy day, so she went to bed
early that evening, and she awoke rather late the next morning. Except for
a glass of orange juice, she decided to skip breakfast altogether and go
right back to Cassie's and Carrie's C & C Leatherworks boutique. Debbie
also decided that she would wear the black leather blouse, the black leather
jeans, and the black leather high-heel platform boots that she had just
purchased the previous day.
"Good morning," remarked Cassie as Debbie walked into the boutique.
"Good morning, Cassie," replied Debbie. "Where's Carrie?"
"Oh," remarked Cassie, "Carrie shall be coming in a little late today
because she came back here last evening after we left the pub, and she was
able to completely finish making your new leather corset. I shall get it,
and then you may try it on to see if it is exactly what you requested and to
make sure that it fits you properly."
As soon as Cassie brought it to her, Debbie immediately went to one
of the dressing rooms and put on her new black leather corset. It was
specially made from leather that was thicker and much more rigid than any
leather corset that she had ever worn before. Carrie had inserted specially
made stainless steel stays all along the waist of the corset to make certain
that Debbie's torso both above and below her even more diminutive 18-inch
waist would be properly supported. Debbie was quite used to wearing leather
corsets, but she had never in her young life experienced anything like
wearing that leather corset. Carrie had also made it with specially
designed front laces that, when pulled, would automatically stay tight
without having to be tied, so Debbie could quickly and easily both tighten
and loosen her new black leather corset using her twin hooks. It fit Debbie
absolutely perfectly, but, unfortunately, it made her new leather jeans and
her new leather blouse fit quite a bit too loosely around her new 18-inch
waist. Debbie went out of the dressing room and asked Cassie, "Could you
possibly alter this blouse and these jeans by taking each of them in a full
two inches in the waist area, so they will fit snugly over my new 18-inch
waist? Otherwise, I'm absolutely thrilled with how well my new corset fits
me and just how wonderfully snug it feels around my waist and hips!"
"Certainly," replied Cassie. "That shall be no trouble at all. That
should take me no more than a few minutes." Cassie took Debbie's blouse and
jeans and went to the workshop area of the boutique to alter them, while
Debbie waited patiently in the dressing room.
"All done," remarked Cassie as she gave Debbie her freshly altered
clothing just a few minutes later. "Please let me know if either the jeans
or the blouse need any more alterations."
Debbie quickly put both her black leather jeans and her black leather
blouse back on and stepped out of the dressing room to show Cassie how well
they fit. "They both fit absolutely perfectly. I can even grasp the sides
of my new 18-inch waist with both of my twin hooks when I've opened them up
fully, and that's something that I've never been able to do before!" Debbie
thought that she had never looked any more attractive than she looked now.
"You look absolutely fabulous, Debbie," exclaimed Cassie. "Would you
like to model all of your new clothing items by taking another turn as a
'human mannequin' in the front window display of our boutique?"
"That would suit me just fine, Cassie," replied Debbie. "What are we
waiting for?"
Once again, Debbie put on the sunglasses with the mirrored lenses
using her twin hooks, and then she very carefully took her place in the
center of the boutique's front window display. She assumed her best model's
pose with her twin hooks resting on either side of her new 18-inch waist
because she not only wanted people to focus their attention on her
diminutive waist, but she also wanted them to focus their attention on her
twin Dorrance #5X polished stainless steel hooks as well.
Debbie spent several hours as a "human mannequin" in the window
display, and she managed to attract the attention and stares of everyone who
looked at her. All that anyone saw as they walked by the front window of
the boutique was a very attractive, motionless, speechless mannequin with
long platinum-streaked black hair, dressed entirely in black leather
clothing items, with a pair of polished stainless steel hooks resting on her
extremely diminutive hourglass waist, and also wearing a pair of black
leather high-heel boots with 12-inch heels and 6-inch platform soles. Just
as before, Debbie really enjoyed being on display in the boutique's front
window, and she was getting much better at not moving when people were
staring at her. When she was sure that nobody was looking at her, Debbie
changed her body position slightly, so that she didn't get the least bit
cramped or fatigued, and she always kept her twin hooks resting on either
side of her new 18-inch waist. Cassie checked with Debbie about every
twenty minutes to see how she was doing. The boutique was extremely busy
this morning, and soon both Cassie and Carrie had more customers than they
could easily take care of by themselves.
Carrie came up to Debbie and asked, "Could you possibly take a break
from your 'human mannequin' duties and assist Cassie and I with some of our
customers?"
"I guess that I could use a break about now, but I'm not too sure how
well I'd do as a saleswoman in your boutique because I've never before in my
life tried to sell anything except land and buildings," replied Debbie.
"As successful of a real estate saleswoman as you are, Debbie,"
remarked Carrie, "you should have no trouble at all selling our leather
clothing items. Besides, you are a walking, talking, real, live
advertisement for everything in our boutique!"
"I guess that you're right, so I'll give it a try," said Debbie.
Debbie certainly was an excellent saleswoman, and she had no problems
assisting customers with their clothing purchases. The skill she had
developed using her twin hooks made it relatively easy for Debbie to perform
all of her saleswoman's duties, and she even managed to do a very credible
job taking care of money and working the electronic cash register. The rest
of the day was spent waiting on customers up until the boutique finally had
to close for the day. Both Cassie and Carrie were so impressed with the job
that Debbie had done that they offered her a full-time job as a saleswoman/
"mannequin" at their boutique. Debbie decided to definitely take the job at
least until her vacation was up, and then decide if she wanted to accept the
twin's offer on a permanent basis. As her unusual vacation was nearing its
end, Debbie was so happy with her new job that she decided to call back to
the States and quit her old job as a real estate saleswoman. However,
Debbie's employer talked her into just taking a year's leave of absence
instead of quitting her job outright. That decision gave Debbie a full year
to live in London and to also work at the C & C Leatherworks boutique.
Cassie and Carrie soon became best friends with Debbie, and they both
treated her just like she was their sister. Together, all three of the
women rented an expensive penthouse apartment in London's Soho district.
The twins even renamed their boutique "C & C & D Leatherworks" because
Debbie not only worked there as a saleswoman, but she also worked as a part-
time "mannequin" whenever she had the time, and she now also helped design
and even make many of the leather clothing items that were sold in the
boutique. Even though she was unable to cut out any of the leather pieces
for their clothing items, Debbie was still able to use her twin hooks to
operate the boutique's sewing machines, and she was often able to help sew
together quite a few of the leather clothing items that were sold in the
boutique. Cassie, Carrie, and Debbie all became quite well known in the
fashion world, and their boutique soon moved into a larger building as their
business steadily increased. Cassie concentrated her efforts on designing
and making leather gloves, corsets, and jackets; Carrie concentrated her
efforts on designing and making leather blouses, skirts, and jeans; and
Debbie concentrated her efforts on designing leather corsets and buying all
kinds of leather footwear.
It wasn't long before Cassie, Carrie, and Debbie pooled their
modeling talents along with those of Aimee Mullins, Jamie Goldman, Shea
Cowart, Heather Mills, Melanie Benn, Helen Smith, Tracie DeJong, Catherine
Long, and Vera Little. All twelve of them helped the famous woman's fashion
designer Alexander McQueen stage his unique and unusual "THE DISABLED BUT
DEFINITELY NOT DISFIGURED DOZEN" fashion show. Those dozen women showed off
a wide array of clothing items both with and without a variety of their
individual prostheses. Aimee, Jamie, and Shea modeled their various twin
prosthetic legs along with their twin leg stumps. Heather modeled her
various left prosthetic legs along with her left leg stump. Helen and
Melanie modeled their various twin prosthetic arms and their various twin
prosthetic legs along with their twin arm stumps and their twin leg stumps.
Tracie and Debbie modeled their various twin prosthetic arms along their
twin arm stumps. Catherine modeled her various left prosthetic arms along
with her left shoulder stump. Vera modeled her various twin prosthetic legs
along with her twin leg stumps and her totally fingerless hands. Cassie
modeled her various eight prosthetic fingers along with her eight finger
stumps. Carrie modeled her various glasses with their extremely thick
myodisc lenses as well as modeling various canes, guide dogs, and other
mobility devices she needed to use when she removed her glasses. The
"DISABLED BUT DEFINITELY NOT DISFIGURED DOZEN" even had an advertising
slogan for their fashion show: "Just because most women don't have bodies
like ours doesn't mean that they're any less able, any less feminine, or any
less beautiful than any of us!" The twelve "disabled" women were not at all
surprised that their fashion show was an overwhelming success, raising more
than 20,000 British Pounds (about 50,000 United States Dollars) for their
four-hour show, nor were they surprised that it was covered by fashion show
reporters from all over the world. They all planned to make their fashion
show an annual affair.
Debbie had become an exceptionally busy and quite a wealthy young
woman almost overnight. She had quickly become somewhat famous, and, in
addition to being a rather well known businesswoman, Debbie was even more
widely recognized as a role model for "disabled" women everywhere.
Although Debbie was very satisfied with her life as a whole, her personal
social life had suffered tremendously. Debbie hadn't been able to develop
anything even closely resembling a serious relationship with any man since
she had arrived in London. One of London's infamous weekly tabloids even
featured a full page of pictures of Debbie along with a four-page story
about her that had the headline, "This DBE Amputee Would Surely Love To
Catch An Eligible Young Bachelor With Her Hooks." Of course, Cassie and
Carrie were also stuck in pretty much the same dilemma regarding their
public and their private lives. However, it wouldn't be very long before
all three of those very attractive young women would find the men of their
dreams.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
Post-Script:
You know, some zany shit has gone down over the last two years at Anada,
even with its stability and propensity to wrap its loving arms around anyone
willing to bear their soul (or just fuck off) in ASCII text. It's almost
sad now to detach from the regularity of it all, but in reality, nothing is
going to change. People will send write things that they love to write, and
perhaps with the departure from the norm, others will be inspired to write
as well. That's all I've ever wanted with Anada: to gather more and more
people into a writing fold where they can feel comfortable expressing
themselves. It's done its job so far, but reaching a little bit farther can
only help. Even if it means we find another Carole. And I mean that as
lovingly as only I can.
Much love to all of Anada's support system, staff past and present, random
contributing writers, other 'zines who have formed a community of which we
adore being a part, and to Kevin Moore, who, goddamn it, needs to write an
Anada file someday.
For now: onward and upward.
Love, Gloomchen.
/|/|
( @ @)
) ^
/ ||| (c) 2002 Anada E'zine www.anada.net * Anada is cat-friendly.
/ )|||____________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
#EOF
