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pg. 49. . .Editorials & such c1997-1998 Mongoose Type Entertainment |
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"The power of observation is called cynicism by those who do not
have it." pg. 49 When it rains, it pours. Well, not here, but elsewhere. From Meda:
One more, babes. This time from Good ol' Zamsani:
A simple response, if we will. What in the hell are you talking about? When you bash one article, you bash all articles and that would include mine as well. With the exception of Max Reagan, I would gladly read any article we put out. If we don't make any sense, maybe it's your fault. Perhaps, some Ritalin (sp?); it could help your attention span. Sure, most people who check us out (including ourselves) have short attention spans, but damn! Maybe you'd like to send in an example of what makes no sense. If you do that, refrain from sending in those by the following people, we don't know what they're about either: Max Reagan, Paul B. Whitley, a drunken Seamus, and G. Nih Ton, for the hell of it. No one here will defend, no matter what he writes. the such: It has just come to my attention that SDM will be on hiatus until sometime around Thanksgiving. According to the administrators, Sell Out and No Show, there will be a special issue that will somehow coincide with Thanksgiving and they want to make sure it is packed and full of the shit that has made us great. Whatever that means. A special that I do have details about, but won't be around until the new year (sometime) is the one where we kill all the fellas, and let the girls take over for an issue. It should be interesting. Of course, we need female staffers. If you are interested in getting into SDM or find out about this, drop a line here. One more addition to the family, folks. The In Excess section has switched hands, we've got a new guy by the name of F. Peabody. Hope you enjoy him. If you don't, we really don't care, but if it makes you feel any better, you can believe that we do. That's probably not all, but my section got kind of big this go around, so get on with the show. pg. 178 While this article may not be my usual fare, I will try to keep in the vain of everything else. First off, I have sold out. Some of you out there probably don't give a damn, but I feel the need to write something, so I might as well write about this. In other words, I'm just passing time. How did I sell out? I went mainstream. I saw some shitty ass school paper and decided to leave my mark. Unfortunately, this is the same school paper that provoked Seamus and I into starting this hell horse called SDM. All I'm doing is giving up a mini, toned down, ass kicking version of SDM. So, in other words, I'm going to a new level, but so we can maintain the purity here, SDM is staying behind. I'll still be here, doing whatever it is you think I do, but I just told you this crap to get some filler. I could never leave this shithole of an ezine. As long as it maintains the same level integrity and honesty, I will be here. I believe that SDM beats the hell out of any publication, print or electronic; and I dare anyone to prove otherwise. One more bit of time before you move on, SDM has been constantly late on several things, as well as smaller. School happens and we get held up. I just thought I'd let you know. We're still here and just as dedicated as when we first started it. That was rather upbeat. It won't happen again. pg. #2 i saw him yesterday. it was 3:21 pm. the number 6 parnassus line. i saw him running across haight street towards the bus, afraid of missing it. i saw him step on, never looking anyone in the eye. i prayed for him to sit by me, but the bus was crowded in the back. i sat in the homie g seats and waited. he sat in the aisle seat on the left, 4th row back. he didn't see me. i saw him. he is a perfect passenger. the brown plastic throne he sits upon doesn't do him justice. i know. he deserves a palace of white marble, a red velvet carpet. he deserves me, too. i saw him. i saw his black top hat, the brim at just the right angle above his fire-and-ice blue eyes. i saw his black hair peeking out from under the hat, long wild black hair that i would love to run my fingers through. i saw him. i saw the black stubble on his chin, the profile of his beautiful face, the rise and fall of his untouchable chest through his black trench coat and black tee shirt. i saw him, unmoving. i was paralyzed in wonder. did his seatmate realize that he was sitting next to the closest thing to god that this world could ever dream up? i saw him. my whole focus never wavered from his beautiful presence. i missed my stop just so i could have more time in the grace of his being. so what if i had to walk an extra seven blocks. i was near him for a whole extra two minutes. i saw him. i don't know what stop was his, because i got off before he did. where was he going? did he see me? did he see me exit the bus, cross the street? did he see me turn and watch his chariot roll slowly away? did the bus driver know how precious his human cargo was? i hope so. he didn't see me, but i saw him. just him. always. pg. 54 Well, it's happened. The fat lady sang. Hell has frozen over. MTV showed a music video. Nevermind the fact that it was Hanson and 15 minutes of commercials followed it. They actually showed a music video. I remember that in the early days of MTV, they actually showed videos the majority of the time. Then some jackass came up with the idea that MTV should have dumb programs in addition to whatever. It started out with a few stupid, half-hour programs. To make up for the time that the shows took up--commercial time, they cut back on music videos. This continued until MTV was 70% commercials, 25% mindless entertainment, and 5% music videos. Which makes the name Music TV a little irrelevant. Usually when a network makes a mistake, they try to ignore it for about a year and then they fix it. MTV makes a new channel, M2. All videos, all the time. Isn't that what MTV was supposed to be? Not to mention that the people who run MTV also do VHI, Nickelodeon, and I think a few others. They could have easily put all those stupid shows on another channel. But they were stupid and decided not to. That's MTV for you. Of course, now that I'm done complaining, I just realized that I had no real reason to be watching MTV in the first place. Maybe I'm a hypocrite. So sue me. pg. 257 There's a lot of shit going on in the world today. From terrorist activity to the battle over the right to choose. Throughout the world, there is a media blitz being waged on the common man. What does this mean for you, the common man? Well, it means that if the moguls at ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, and, God forbid, MTV have their way, you'll be zombies contracted out to vote for the already predetermined god of America. What? You didn't know that the president has already been selected. You foolish people! Guess what? It's not to late to do your part an destroy this conspiracy. No, I'm juist kidding. There isn't a snowball's chance in hell for you to make a difference in the mangler we call the government. If I'm bumming you out, then good, because I can pull a media tactic and brainwash you (what do you think the news is for?). Don't give up hope and quit voting, because then you lose your God-given right to complain. A voter's registration card is nothing more than an unofficial license to bitch. Your official license is that stupid sticker that let's the whole world know you performed your duty and wasted a lunch break standing in line with a bunch of morons who have already been manipulated and brainwashed into voting for the dickhead who will win despite your voice. Ready for your part in all of this? Well, here goes, don't be that moron who stands behind at the booth attempting to remember who it was he was supposed to vote for. You may be asking, "How in the hell am I supposed to do that?" I am so glad you asked that, because I have the answer. Just follows are the rules for your success. Get ready to put them to good use, because you'll need them. Forget party lines. That's nothing more than a diversion tactic. If everyone was in the same party, then you wouldn't have to vote and that means a a lot of money that won't be made or wasted. Vote for the loser. C'mon, you know who he's going to be. If you vote for the loser, then you can always say, "I told you so!" Never divulge who you'll vote for. People have died for less. Besides, people have the tendency to think that if someone is discussing their candidate of choice, it is nothing more than subtle guerrilla campaigning. If this is the case, then you would become a hipocrit by doing what the media has been doing for decades. Who wants another Larry King? If by some strange circumstance you said, "I do!" then get the gun and fire straight to head. If anyone solicits you about a candidate, simply say "fuck off!" It works and sends a message that the agents of the media conspiracy will not corrupt you. Well, that you are. Follow these rules, and you have earned a privilege of lifetime bitching. Unfortunately, chances are you have already been shitbrained and no matter what, these pointers cannot help you thwart the media's efforts because you have already been brain fucked. May God have mercy on your soul. c1992 G. Nih Ton. Reprinted with permission. pg. 113.5 Good morning everyone! As I sit here pondering the state of affairs in this fine land of ours over a hot mug of jo, I wonder how many of you ham and egger's actually have a clue as to what is keeping this huge whale from sinking to the bottom of the ocean as you glean each and every tidbit from the main stream... "news paper." It takes a tremendous amount of work and thoughtfulness to come up with the idea for a club such as the likes of the "Y Indian Maidens" "Boys Club" "Parents Without Partners," (whom my mother aptly named 'Parents Without Parallel'), and so on. These groups of ideologists and fun seekers knew what they were doing and did not, for one minute, try to fool anyone into believing otherwise. While there may have been a few whose mores slipped on occasion, (ever done it on satin sheets?), they certainly didn't get appointed or elected to office because of public knowledge of their strange or unacceptable habits and treasonistic past transgressions... or did they? Come on people, where else can you live where the 'pres' can tie up a major runway at a major international airport whilst his ears are lowered? Where else can you live where the authorities, in Texas for instance, go into any bar they choose and remove any patron because they can not identify themselves... even when it is obvious to a blind person they are in their fifties? Where else in the world can you live where the Attorney General can authorize the pre-meditated murder of innocent children and get away with it, (odd, it's Texas again)? Where else can you live where the F.B.I. shoots and kills the innocent wife and son of a wanted man over a minor felony charge, (I'm giving Texas a break this time), when he was set up in the first place!? Steamed yet? I am and you should be. After pondering this I thought it may be interesting and perhaps humorous to hear from you out there in cyber-space your take on this. Send me the name of your favorite butt head in office, any office, and I shall either place them on my list of "Toilet Monitors" or allot them space in the "Darwin Award" section of this bit. Drop them here. pg. 1 Back in the '80s, music sucked. Everything was cookie cutter, except for one group. One group stood above the rest and are one of the few groups left around from the heyday of big hair, spandex, synthesizers, and too much makeup. Do I need to give you guesses? U2, right? Damn skippy! Back in the late '70s they were small time, now they're the biggest rock group around. Of course, somewhere between then and now, they seem to have forgotten what it meant to stand for something other than the dollar. From singing about Bloody Sunday to basking in the light of the "World's Largest Monitor," I don't think that they understand that it's alright to sell out as long as you touch base with the demeanor that got you to where you are in the first place. Once upon a time, those guys from Ireland gave me something to believe in. I wanted to help the world. Of course, this was before I woke up to the possibility that I didn't really feel like it, but still... I could go on like all those rock critics out there, but why? Let me say my final piece and send you on your way. They've got the rock persona down pat, unfortunately, these guys are more marketed than a Spielberg and Disney movie combined. It pisses me off that anyone can get away with it. I say donate the electronics to some school in need of the greatest talent show of all time and strip it down to the basics and play "New Year's Day" like it was supposed to sound. Like a rock band who can get rich off of one concert because going to it doesn't require a mortgage. No creative tie-ins, my next target is the once great, now overexposed Kenny G! In all honesty, it has been fun as hell, making this issue. Seriously. Of course, it was late and all of that, but nevertheless, it was fun. But at the same time, we aren't the ones waiting in anticipation of every issue. If you have this problem, please get help immediately.
Not to sound corporate or anything, but this is the way it goes. The newsletter and its concept belongs to Mongoose Type Entertainment. Anything written belongs to the respective authors, so please don't go ripping any of us off. We're not getting paid for this, and you shouldn't either, so don't be an asshole, go write something yourself. Give credit where credit's due. Everyone here does what seems to be a good job, so all we're asking is that you respect that. Somewhere, a career is being pegged as the next Bob Saget. |
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