The such:

If you see a theme here, then keep it to yourself. It's not that there isn't, it's that I don't care about discussing it.

Our next issue is slated to be a literary issue, so if you are interested in displaying your works of poetry/fiction/etc. then drop a line here   ASAP because the deadline is 7.29.98

Within the coming months, Mongoose Type Entertainment (sometime Unlimited), the bs parent organization of sdm will be attempting to help develop projects with anyone who's interested and can reach a compromise with the powers that be. This includes displaying of art, writings, or even a new zine. We'll be upgrading our site (so to speak) and it will be a good place for such projects. If you are interested, drop a line here.

pg. 178
The Pissing Grounds
by: Paul B. Whitley

What I had really wanted to talk about are the people who ride public transit or congregate in a place where anybody could just show up. No matter what time it is, there will always be someone present who thinks that they either have the key to human understanding or the one thing that will save the world. Upon the recent eavesdropping of such a moment, the aforementioned poem came to mind. I believe that the soap boxer of the moment was discussing how a curfew would eliminate crime and other social ailments. Personally, I could care less if this idealistic fool was right. Who knows? Maybe a curfew would change the world for the better, but this speaker wasn't going to make the world a better place.

To end this on a really, really bleak note, nothing will save society from destruction. All of the preaching is useless. Forcing love on your fellow man is a waste of time because we live in a world where love of man has been eclipsed by the love of materials. By my making that astute conclusion, I do not hope that it will cause an epiphany to pushes people to peace. I know that what I have just said is common knowledge, so my saying it will not make a bit of difference. Everyone knows that materialism is lord over society and it hasn't changed a damn thing yet so why should think that me saying it would help the world out in any way. After all, I don't claim to be one of the 99 messiahs.

pg. 42
who's watching your soul?
by: antihero

as far as i'm concerned, seat belts are a good idea. but if you don't want to wear them, you shouldn't have to. and if you want to call kevorkian (or, as i call him, happy jack), go for it. no one's life but your own, right? but i guess that's not how it works anymore. people, especially in amerika, are apparently unable to judge what they "really" want to do, or what's "really" safe enough. after all, we're just normal people. the government can make all those decisions better than we can, right? bullshit. this is the same government that took the time to come up with shit like "fantasy violence." yeah, let's all pay attention to how daffy duck is gettin blown up, while, in the real world, people are experiencing something kinda like fantasy violence... i like to call it "real violence."

and, while it is funny, it's not as funny as daffy duck. usually. the government is spending so much time trying to make you believe they're doing their job, keeping your kids off drugs and away from the word "fuck", they've actually fooled many amerikans into thinking it's okay that we're led around like a herd of buffalo. oh, it's okay, they're doing their jobs. no it's not... and no, they're not doing their jobs. sooner or later, we have to give the power back to the citizens of amerika, instead of the man. i, for one, want to be able to see the world with lsd-induced tracers if i so choose.

pg. 1812
Brossart Wit and Wisdom.
by: The Bathroom Bandit, an outside agitator at a major university in the Midwest."

*14* THE MOUTH THAT MOVED

Phil Collins' hit song "Another Day In Paradise" was all the rage back in 1990, as it regaled the masses with the plight of the homeless.

On the morning of Tuesday, January 16, 1990, the principal saw fit to play this record--in its entirety--over the PA system. He introduced the "special song" as if nobody had ever heard it before (even though WLAP-FM, the now-defunct rock 'n' roll powerhouse that all the cool people listened to back then, had been playing it for 3 months).

As the tune began, my homeroom teacher exclaimed, "Next mouth that moves gets 5 demerits!"

Sure enough, a student made an unusual mouth movement and was presented with a yellow slip of paper with the connotation of disciplinary action.

While examining the demerit slip later, the youngster said, "My mouth moved, man!"

*15* THE SHIT STOPPAGE

"Then stop this shit!"

This harangue on Wednesday, May 25, 1988, was the work of the principal. It occurred in the lunchroom in full view of half the student body.

Did the shit stop? Of course not!

*16* FART MUSEUM

In the fall of 1989, art students at Brossart took a series of field trips to the Cincinnati Art Museum.

In preparation for the outings, the art teacher advised the students not to chew bubble gum inside the museum. When one of them protested, the instructor replied, "You can chew it in the car on the way

over as long as it doesn't fall out, 'cause that's what happened to my brother's car and now the seats are ruined and he had to pay lots of money to get it cleaned up. But when we get there, you're gonna have to go cold turkey." The class broke into laughter.

The teacher also declared that the museum was featuring a temporary display containing photographs of toilets.

The art museum trips were characterized by the teacher explaining each piece in relation to real-life experiences. For example, he once said, "This painting's about how you lose things and never see 'em again. I used to have a really nice pair of scissors--they were good scissors!--and I had 'em for years and years. But then I lost 'em and haven't seen 'em ever since." (Unbeknownst to him, the scissors were carried away by vandals and joined the principal's walkie-talkie in the commode's cool depths.)

Art museum mischief by Brossart students included: spitting on a sculpture; setting off an alarm by propping a sheet of paper against a painting and writing on it; yelling "boist!" into the restrooms; disobeying the gum dictum and tossing the wrappers onto the floor; and (surprise, surprise) passing gas repeatedly.

As a result, the art teacher refused to take the students to view the toilet exhibit (although it would have been quite suitable).

Once again the people of SDM have called upon me to be ridiculed for the beliefs I hold sacred. This time, it has to do with saving our society and my thoughts on the matter. Since I am an optimist by choice, I believe that there is hope for this world and all that inhabit it.

Since it would be silly to just go on and on about how I believe this to be true, let me tell you how it can be saved. There is only one way that this will happen and that is through love. Without love we are shells. Love makes us function and love makes us complete. Furthermore, love is what sets us apart from the beasts of nature.

Let me get to the nitty gritty and eliminate the window for ridicule. I suggest a day where we all abandon our difference with one another and get together for one big giant picnic. No guns. No forms of media. No hate. It sounds goofy, but if we can do that then we will all come together as one, because nothing makes love come about faster than a good old fashioned picnic.

As for organizing the picnic... To tell you the truth, I really don’t know, but the only way for it to happen is by not letting any "power holders" handle it. Find the greatest family reunions of the past ten years and go to the organizers. Those are the people who should handle it. If anything, these are the people who can bring about peace faster than the UN.

"Consider the lilies?" A line from Life of Brian, best Monty Python movie around (I'm in the minority here). But I think it does demonstrate that religion is on the way out. If anything, movies and their stars have come into that Jesus Christ Superstar status that once was popular and populated only by those thought closer to God. Now god isn't even capitalized all the time. Times change. Not necessarily progressing.

For instance, progressive music, which I like, hasn't really progressed. It's just a name. A lot of people still think the best era was the 1970s. I don't agree. But then, I'm allowed to disagree. Used to be with religion and God, you didn't have a choice about anything. You had to do what you had to do, you had to pray, had to beg for forgiveness. You actually went to church on Sunday mornings, and more often than that.

I really believe in the good ol' days because of the lack of choices they had. I'm really surprised things are as held together now as they are because it's been so long since we had a good - or any - war. There is no unification. Certainly not in beliefs. We as a people don't Have to do

Anything. We do what we feel like, and because we have all the choices of modern conveniences and more people building and thinking up more things for us, the only Real danger is plenty and competition. We're lazy, in America especially. Maybe if there were a 2nd Coming, the Lord would get us all off our asses and up building more churchs? Knocking down Disney Stores and miraculously setting future Blockbuster contracts on fire and building the Right kind of temples on that property. Taking all the little price tags off fish food and setting the animals free and letting the plants run/grow wild out of their Walmart cages. Sitting down to listen to radio, using the mind instead of the eyes for a change.

The Lord does work in mysterious ways since he doesn't seem he's working now. I think he's been laid off and there hasn't been a like job created when there's no difficulty in the unemployment of 1, right? Democracy wants the greatest number of votes. There is might in numbers, and there's right in choices. So which way is evolution really going? If hell can freeze over, what's heaven going to do for equalization? When it all happens.

pg. ---
The Obligatory Poetry Corner

pg. 522
How to be a Successful Parent
by: Pete (dwain).

First off, I don’t have kids. Second, I’ve only babysat twice. My credentials come in the facts that I was a kid, have seen parents interact with their children and I always have this urge to tell parents what they are doing wrong. Therefore, I think I can speak of these things without fear of being wrong. If you think I’m wrong, get a kid and try all this stuff out. Twenty years down the line, you can come back to me and say "Hey, Pete you were right. Thanks, because I have a good kid."

To keep you kids off of drugs, drop the kid off at a crackhouse and pick him up later in the day. Seeing the crying children will do enough of a job but watching the walking dead will be the nails in the coffin.

"God will strike you down if you touch that cookie."

"Jesus doesn’t love you anymore. GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

For example, if the child’s name is, oh say, Max Reagan, call him Suzy.

Let me take this moment to change something I just said. Spankings and whoopings are good. Don’t stop because eventual toleration of physical pain would be bad, so as the years go on try to intersperse such punishments with other forms of parentally induced correction. My favorite is the closet. For children, one must remember that the dark is a magical and mysterious place where everything seems like The Boxcar Children and The Chronicles of Narnia. While it can be good it can also be dark, evil, and if the imagination’s right… deadly. That’s right, lock the little whippersnapper in a closet for bad things.

Running in the house is a serious crime that can be ended by booby trapping the house with fishing wire and/or waxing the floors. Enough said.

pg. 1
Armchair XI: Armchair and Morality
by: Armchair Critic

Not too long ago, the "network" was under constant fire for it's lack of music videos. Redemption rode a chariot led by the horses known as Say What and Artists' Cut. I like the latter so I will discuss it no further. As for Say What, it's a joke. Not because of the concept, but because of the translators who are responsible for this life support of the dying artform known as karaoke. At the risk of coming off as a prickish asshole, this show sucks for two reasons. The lyrics are fucked up and the technicals of the English language is way off mark. I have no problem watching a show that provides lyrics to the new Bone song, but I would just like to take comfort in the fact that I can let my kids watch a show where they will know how to spell slang properly as well as how to use an apostrophe when it should be used. Unfortunately, I don't think these comma happy idiots can do that. Getting back to the lyrics, it seems that they always seem to mess up the songs that have the lyrics in the liner notes, but do a pretty good job when it comes to those without lyrics. Odd, huh?

The other weapon in the arsenal is Fanatic, a show where morons can meet the people they've wasted their lives away on. Only here can one expect to see a teenage girl skip class in order to drool over the overpaid fools who otherwise wouldn't give a damn about her, except that it serves as good publicity, if not a good tax right off. It's a cynical perspective, but I can't help but to think that these people have an ulterior motive. Why not? Why else a would a self respecting human being stand there and watch a bumbling idiot of a teenager bawl and bawl just because of mere sight. Not only is it deplorable, but it's sickening.