Tripe #6 The writer of this editorial might have died
Tripe Issue Six - September 10th, 2002
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|I|S|S|U|E| |6|
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- -1 Digree Burnz - BMC
- Bzarhands Gets a Record Contract - Gnarly Wayne
- * a snoutful doubt * - by trilobyte
- More Lemmings - Jaxon
- Interview with Magnum P.I. - by Margarina Cataclysma
- What is a GeEDawG? - Komrade B
Well the writer of this editorial might have died in a plane crash when going to Fredericton. Wouldn't that be funny? Now you're reading this, their words, written after their death and about their death, and at the same time they knew nothing about their death. They were just guessing and it was really weird.
Well this one is weird too. Say they live, but they predicted that they had lived way in advance. The only problem with this is that there is no way to prove they wrote this before they lived and not today whem thios is released.
Bye
Enjoy your magazine.
-1 degree burns
BMC
-1 degree burns
ever burned yourself, then wished you hadn't? 'Cause now, from the people who brougth you -1 dae warez comes:
-1 degree burns!
Not paid your medical insurance lately? Now, with -1 degree burns, downgrade that flaming bedroom run-in 3rd degree tragedy with some silly, easy to deal with, 2nd degree burns! Go for our two for one deal and downgrade your potential tragedy into a blistr!
Buy -1 degree burns today! Ia(s cheaper than insurance and is small enough to file away for emergency use!
Bzarhands gets a record contact
Gnarly Wayne
Bzarhands gets a record contact
Bzardhands took his demo tape down to the local music store to see if he could get a "hook-up". The man at the counter said he could do it for 10 bucks. Bzardhands paid him the cash and they drove off to the Def Jam recordings. Upon enterance, Bzarhands was amazed at the glamour these music stars lived in. He wanted to be a music star as well. As they entered the office of Russel Simons, Bzarhands took out his demo tape. Russ said "Those are some mighty strange hands you have." Bzarhands said "They're bzar." Russ put the tape and began to funk out with bzardhands. They moved to Russ's 180 square foot disco dance hall and danced the day away. No work got done and Def Jam went bankrupt. Bzardhands destroyed Def Jam recordings and went on to destroy every other music company the same way.
NOTE: this will happen on June 31, 2187.
The day the music died because of bzarhands and his funky music, THE END.
* a snoutful doubt *
by trilobyte
so once there was a man who had a dog. the dog had a name of 'pest' and its nose was as long as its snout, extending from its eyes to its mouth. many dogs ridiculed this dog, this poor pest, as its nose was so long, and its pest nature had caused it to get into so much trouble with other dogs.
pest's owner, ted, had a name that was short for 'ted theodore logan'. ted theodore logan's name had been usurped for use in a movie many years after he had been given the name, and therefore his friends made fun of him as much as his enemies. it was a ridiculous place to be, a terrible way to live and he ended up ridiculing himself as well.
one day ted was climbing a tree and he found an apple. the apple was bright red and had just one little black spot on it, about the size of a dime. ted picked this apple off the branch and ate it, after breathing on it and rubbing it on his shirt. the apple tasted so good he let out a long moan and then continued to eat the apple until it was barely even a core, barely anything was left of the poor fruit. it was all gone.
ted was very pleased with himself, because he had just eaten perhaps the greatest piece of food he would ever have the pleasure of biting into. he climbed down from the tree and looked out at the world with a new fit of panache', with a whole new outlook. his life was new, his love was fantastic, and he was ready to take on anything that might come his way.
he walked over to the concrete pocket of earth known as the empty swimming pool. no-one was in it, not skateboarders nor peg-leg pirates. nobody. he climbed down the mineral-deposited ladder until he reached the bottom, and then he pretended to have a skateboard, running around the pool as if he were a gliding pedestrian.
unfortunately his feet were NOT on wheels, and he was NOT skating, for once he stepped onto a certain curved incline, his ankle gave out underneath him and caused him to fall onto his left elbow.
"OUCH," he screamed, he was in so much pain, his head felt as if it were on fire, he couldn't see anything except the brightest portions of the sky. this went on for about 5 minutes until he regained his composure and decided he had just knocked the wind out of his lungs and continued up the ladder back to the nearby field with the tree.
ted decided he would climb this tree once more and try to find another delicious apple. perhaps that would take his mind off his broken elbow and useless ankle.
as he was climbing the tree Ted realized that his limbs were all like rubber; they really couldn't support his weight and with every hoist of his body his head gave him more pained difficulty. he was beginning to get sick to his stomach. but eventually he reached the branch, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit up a marlboro light.
"mmm," he thought, it was exactly what he needed. sitting on the tree branch, looking out over the world and the pool which had bitten him badly, he realized what a great day he was having.
"imagine," he thought, "what my life would be like if I hadn't bitten from that apple and climbed down and broken my limbs." he was very pleased and took another puff of his cigarette. "perhaps," he thought, "if i were to eat another apple, life would get even better."
the next apple he found on a nearby branch. its core was rotted nearly through half the side of the fruit's skin, it seemed to have been eaten inside out by worms or snakes or some other malicious creature. ted pulled out his pocket knife, carved out the bad part of the apple, brushed the apple on his sweater-vest pullover, and went on his way to his perceived heaven.
then along came pest. ted was just about to bite into the apple when he realized he was still smoking a cigarette, so he threw out the remainder onto the ground ... but missed. the flaming shard hit poor pest on the nose, and when he looked up toward the tree to see where this flaming beast had come from, the ash and flame moved up his snout to his eyes, which pest had previously enjoyed looking out of.
they began to burn. pest's eyes really started to hurt him something fierce, so he ran over to the pool and hoped to drench himself in its chlorinated water as he had done so many times before.
but this time didn't have any.
pest jumped blindly into the lack-of-water and landed on his belly, all four paws spread outward. later he found himself surrounded in nothing but a bluish tint.
"how did i end up here," he wondered, in dog-language.
during pest's fit with his health, ted jumped from the tree and came to the edge of the former pool to wish pest good tidings. it had been a long time since ted and pest had hung out together in the field, not since pest was a puppy and ted was a young boy.
but pest didn't respond, as he was blacked out, and even when ted started SCREAMING for pest, the dog did not respond. no winks, no smells, no lifting of the ears, ... nothing.
"poor dog," thought ted, "he's really gotten on in age." then he saw the blood. red, red.
"PEST!" ted shouted, as he hurriedly climbed down the ladder to meet his bleeding dog.
as ted cradled pest's head in his lap, pest let out a slight murmur of acceptance. it seemed to sound like this:
"mMmrmMMmrmr."
Ted took this as meaning that Pest was very happy, so Ted decided that pest was fine and went to find another apple.
but pest was NOT fine. Poor pest was still laying there in the pool, wanting water, waiting for anything to come along and put him out of his misery. and that's when something did.
the people's republic of china, a fine outfit south of Russia and north of the republic of India, sent out a delegation of university student representatives to visit the united states and spread good tidings. one of these students, ng nguyen, happened upon this empty pool on ted's next-door neighbor's private property while Handy Andy, ted's next-door neighbor and an avid believer in the right to own property, was intent on killing a nearby scarlet tanager. watching though his kitchen window, rifle in hand, Handy Andy keenly and acutely missed, shooting the chinese delegate ng nguyen and throwing him right into the dry pool next to pest.
ng nguyen realized that Pest was a dog with quite a long nose and thought to himself, "[Please install a Chinese character set.]" Pest was beginning to bleed heavily at this point, and seemed very near to death and blindness. this reminded ng nguyen of his lifelong dream, which was to help someone in the most dire of need. pest was just a dog, but would certainly suffice better than the suffocated cockroach laying stomach-up in a nearby puddle.
ng put his hands together and began to pray a loud prayer which he had learned as a boy in the chinese conservatory of repugnant science. he gained enough energy and then shrieked, "[Please install a Chinese character set.]" Pest convulsed rapidly, shot into the air and flamed with fury.
eyes red, burning, Pest shot out from the pits of hell, flew into the tree and aimed right for his misinformed master, that man who had shot a flaming shard of tobacco straight into his eye socket, that poor withering example of a suit with no tie, the real Ted Theodore Logan, that bastard, and sure enough, right up the butthole, mister Ted Theodore Logan was flaming from inside out.
"MmmMrmMMrmrmMrmMRmr," said Pest, and he arced around and met Ng back in the pool.
"You've done a good thing," Pest inferred to Ng, "though I am not a virtuous dog. No, in fact, I am a jezebel, let me out of my cage! I am a worthless shell of a dog, a pitiful excuse for a mutt... I can't even remember my mother. Who IS my mother? Where am I?" flames had gotten into Pest's brain, no moral was to be found, and Ng Nguyen, never able to release the image of the floating, flaming dog from his poor, delegated head, died slowly of a blood infection.
Pest, on the other hand, exploded, and Andy swept him up with a dustbroom.
* THE END *
More Lemmings
by Jaxon
I don't want to use the word "rant" per se, but this is my rant about the hippocrites who fuck us around on a daily basis (aka the Canadian government). What the hell happened to the promises Chretien gave us during the last election? I know that everyone makes some promises that they can't keep, but Chretien went too far this time. Of course, you all know what big promise I'm talking about.
So anyway, I was bored on the weekend, so I decided to go out and do something fun. I went out, got in my car, turned off the radio, and then I drove around aimlessly for a few hours; then I went home and cried. Somewhere in the middle of all of this EXCITEMENT, (oops caps lock was on, backspace button is broken) a very long train crossed my path. Well, not any sort of fool, I kept driving until I smashed into it; then I was transfered into an ambulance that carried me directly to this very hospital room.
And that's why I'm so pissed off. What ever happened to this "safety net" that Chretien is supposed to be improving? Well, as I once read in some credible Internet-Based magazine, the Canadian government was supposed to implement a fleet of '57 Chevies that had the capability to fly. The citizens, if I'm not mistaken, would all be issued these miracle vehicles. Then the world would turn into one huge game of Lemmings. Well, now, it seems to me that if I would have hit that train in the world of Lemmings, then I would have merely bumped into it, turned around, and kept driving until I either bumped into something else at the other end of the world, or kept driving until I fell off of the edge. Well, there are a few other things the government could have done to prevent that accident.
First of all, there should have been some guy standing in front of the train, magically creating white blocks and building a bridge. Or you could have just clicked on some guy to punch his way through the barrier, and put some guy stretching out his arms on the other side.
As for the people who have driven off of cliffs in their '57 Chevies this year, why didn't somebody just click on them and give them umbrellas?
Interview with Magnum P.I.
by Margarina Cataclysma
On April 18th, I met with private investigator Thomas Magnum in Hawaii. The following is a transcript of the proceedings.
Me: Hello Mr. Magnum, please have a seat.
Magnum: Thanks.
Me: So, I think the first thing I must ask you is how you deal with looking into the mirror each day. I mean, you are, like, extraordinarily babelicious. But what I need to know is how you live with that moustache.
Magnum: What do you mean? You young people today have no idea what it was like being an adult in the 70's!
Me: Oh please don't get me wrong, I think it is a fine moustache. Moustaches are great. But do you think about what the moustache means in the grand scheme of things? What does your moustache mean Mr. Magnum? What implications does your moustache have for society at large?
Magnum: Shut up!
Me: Ok, I'm from Canada. And I'm a whitebread girl, the biggest adventure I've had in my life was seeing the Rolling Stones in Edmonton. So how would you suggest I begin if I want to follow in your footsteps, if I want to be a P.I.?
Magnum: Oh man, the last thing the world needs is someone like you snooping around.
Me: Ok, also, the only other private investigator I've ever met was a schmuck. His name is Carl, and he has this really sucky attitude. So, like, would I have to move to Hawaii if I wanted to be a really cool P.I.? Or is it like that all over? Do you find that you don't get enough respect as a P.I.?
Magnum: Are you always this stupid?
Me: So, what is with those blue jeans that you wear that have square pockets in the front and in the back? I know there are Levis in Hawaii, cause Rick and AJ both wear Levis (whoops! That should be Rick and TC, not Rick and AJ!!! Silly me!). Does Higgins make you wear those jeans? By the way, you do look marvellous in those jeans.
Magnum: What are you talking about?
Me: Why do you feel compelled to say,"Now, I know what you're thinking..." whenever you are about to do something stupid?
Magnum: Ok, do you have any real questions?
Me: Was it your idea to have Carol Burnett on the show or was that a production decision? Cause I think that she really sucked and stuff. Also it's the general consensus that whenever there were kids on the show that it was really boring. Like, too boring.
Magnum: Ok, Carol's a good friend of mine, I think I'm going to end this interview now.
Me: Oh well too bad for you then. Why do you "surfski"? Why not just surf? Or why don't you call it kayaking like people everywhere else on the planet do??
Magnum: Bye bye!
Me: In the episode where you take that guy Micheal off into the bush and shoot him, did you feel guilty afterward? Cause your eyes looked really haunted forevermore. Hey come back here!
What is a GeEDawG??
KOmrade B
What is a Geedawg?? Hmm let me think. The idea came from the smash hit song "What is a juggalo??" by ICP. If you have heard that song maybe you could hum it or something while you read this article.
What is a Geedawg?? Some of the following apply:
- You are a member of the Comintern. (There are many other things that you have to be to be in the comintern including being homosexual, perverted, anti-monster, some form of lobster-like sea creature, a liar, a backstabber, etc.)
- You masturbate but don't admit to it when confronted about it.
- You are 3li+3. (But not really)
- You were terrified of Y2k beyond belief, and you took stupid tips for Y2K survival like putting pots and pans inside your oven, because they repel heat, because you couldn't find the plug in to oven to unplug it, and you thought Y2K was going to turn it on, and cause a fire which would kill you.......
- Rambling incoherently and not making any sense what so ever. See Number 4 above for a good example.
- You've laid a batch on a bunch of sardines and you force your best friend to eat them at knife point, and when he asks why you reply "Because you're a dumb fuckin idiot." But the real reason is you just wanted to see if you could do it.
- You hate most people.
- You hate all monsters.
- You kill off someone with some sort of retarded car accident\murder story, print it in the Comintern, and then try to pass it off as truth.....
- You enjoy making midi rap. You are not a Geedawg if you think you are actually really good at it and you may one day get a record deal.
- You ally with a friend in a local game of Barren Realms after he saved you from annihilation and then turn and backstab him in the greatest betrayal ever, and then attack him again the next day.
- You're a Heinze Computer school graduate.
- You consider "Damn It Feels Good To Be a Gangsta" to be your own personal anthem. (BMC considers this to be his)
- You have had your heart broken at least three times. (This is also a pre-requisite to joining the Comintern)
- You love BMC to death but he hates you and then he kills you.
- You hate dancing were other people are dancing, but you have no qualms about dancing in bowling alleys and churches to the tune of "Gettin Jiggy With It". (BMC)
There are many many more things that could qualify you as a geedawg. In fact I encourage you to send in your own ideas to The Comintern. Who knows, maybe you too can get published. Hey, I get published sometimes when I am not dead.
The End.
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|T|R|I|P|E| Issue Six - September 10th, 2002
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website = http://scene.textfiles.com/tripe/tripe.txt
