survey contributions home
"Can I call my folks and say I
won't be home . . . ever!?"
Francis "Chainsaw" Grimp, Summer School
pg. 9
Editorials:
This is where you come in people. We've been gone for awhile and need reader
participation. We'll remain as we remain regardless, but it adds variety.
The such:
This is our special obligatory dedication issue to JFK, Junior. It may offend some
viewers. Sorry, but that's how the game is played. We don't try to offend you, you just
end up that way.
Another thing is that we want some writers, artists(cartoon types), creative types, you
get the picture. If you're interested, drop a line here.
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pg. 42
welcome back to our piece of amerikana
by: antihero
welcome back my friends to the show that never ends. what, you thought a few months of
quiet from us meant we were gone? did you really think you could get away that easily?
because, you know what? we'll never be gone. we specifically may move on, but the spirit
that is SDM will always remain. because, we are in part created by the society that
harbors us. as long as you have big business screwing the little guy that is every one of
us, we'll be there. as long as men in authority abuse their power, we'll be there, tapping
on that proverbial glass window to the oval office shouting a collective "what the
fuck!?". because the spirit that makes up the core of SDM is, at the end, a product
of everything that is fucked up about society. want us to leave? fix things. stop hating
without reason, stop the hypocritical toadying in the name of god or money or whatever it
is you want to blame, and above all, stop screwing your fellow human being over with no
reason. i'm not saying we should be a world of boy scouts... that's just wrong. i'm not
even saying actively help people. but please, don't go out of your way to make someone's
life suck even more... most of us are quite happy with our individual level of shittiness.
so, in other words, SDM will probably be around in one way or another for much longer than
any of us would want... but them's the breaks. get used to us.
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pg. 178
The Pissing Grounds
by: Paul B. Whitley
It was suggested that we discuss the whole JFK, Jr. tragedy. Well, I'll do that
and then some. What I want to do is complain about the recent comments of just about every
single jackass with an outlet to/from the media. How many times did we have to hear,
"America is mourning the loss" of this joker? Don't even think about it, it
happened a lot. Let me point this out: I DIDN'T MOURN SHIT! I never knew the guy, so why
in the hell should I care. I don't need senators, news anchors, and weathermen leading the
Kennedy Clan to believe that I might give a flying rat's ass about the fact that even his
own wife didn't trust his own flying ability. Right about now, you're probably wondering
what I'm so pissed off about. Well, I don't know, but since I've been trying to work in a
comparison, I'll just go ahead and jump into it instead of ranting off about this punk and
his family.
About a year ago, my next door neighbor died. Like Kennedy, I had never met the guy. Also
like Kennedy, I thought there was more going on than meets the eye. There were always cars
at his house, coming and going. I think the guy had his own cult. When he died, there were
a load of cars in his yard, in front of his house, my house, the neighbor's house, you get
the picture. Making a long story short, the only thing I remember about this funeral is my
complaining about all the traffic and how everything was blocked off. The irony of this is
that I had no plans to go anywhere that day, nor did I. Not only that, but I didn't even
drive, so only in the most remote of circumstances would it effect me. Any sympathy? Hell
no and this was my next door neighbor. Do you think I apologized for my thoughts to these
people or even gave them a card? No. All I did was celebrate when they finally moved away.
So in short, it was completely wrong for all of these jackasses to lump me in with well
wishers, because I don't wish it well, I wish it over.
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pg. 17
a eulogy
by: preacher hank
let us pay our respects to good old john-john. he died a happy life? should have.
looking at self, the realization of such things are held evident: like diana he was
stalked and for that he complained. loads of shit spewing out, dirtying the silver spoon.
oh, if my complaint was the visitation of papparazzi! well, he's dead now, and i wonder...
did he hope to blame papparazzi? diana died in a world that had to blame others despite
her own fault. i laugh now, because amerika needs to blame someone, but there's no one
here to blame, or is there? welcome to amerika, the world where no one blames the faulter,
but scoots around on the fault.
closing out... we'll miss good old john-john because he summed up the hollow
superficiality of amerika. the obsession with beauty. the obsession with wealth. the fear
of failure. the amerika of good old john-john was a place i hate, a place we should all
hate. forget my looks. forget my wallet. i don't want to throw around an inheritance. if i
fail at anything, i shall smile, because i'll say fuck you to all who seem to give a damn.
if he said that, maybe amerika wouldnt have cared anymore. would he want that? do you
think if his sister wouldve gone down your television would be locked on water for five
days?
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pg. ---
The Obligatory Poetry Corner
[Cagney]
by: R. Tissun Oan
How does it feel?
Standing to the world,
yelling out your name.
No one's listening.
No one cares.
All that you had is worthless.
All you are now is a memory.
A footnote.
Nothing to be thought of.
Just a bad aftertaste.
They all loved you,
but what about now?
Not a soul.
You had their faith and devotion.
Now,
you're garage sale quality
in a retail outlet world.
You thought of immortality.
Now,
they won't even wave "goodbye."
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pg. 007
American Gothic
by: Dave Black
It was 'An American Tragedy.' For almost a week, amerika was treated to the
escalating excitement that equals that of a trekker with his own webcam during college
exams, only with better quality. What makes it all weird is that apparently we all soaked
it up and it is from here that I shall make my point.
All 'America Tragedies' should be premeditated. It's almost a given that Kennedy tragedies
happen with the regularity of Christmas. The same also applies to normal celebrities. So,
it is with that thought that I am suggesting that we make more money than what is already
being made.
Tragedy TV
For any of those who have seen Bloomberg Television, you'll be able to visualize my
visualization. I am suggesting that in the picture box we have 'round the clock coverage
of the celebrity in question and the tragedy at hand. Off to the side can be some sort of
boring, drawn out biography of the person's life as well as any losers who happen to be
witnesses. Basically, the crap that will leak out in court. At the bottom of the screen
will be various tickers with news, and not-as-important news like uprisings, plane crashes
that involve more than fifty people, and drive by shootings. After all, we wouldn't want
viewers to lose touch with reality.
Since we aren't lucky enough to either have a celebrity murder or get murdered every
second of every hour of every day, there can be original programming which will include
everything from: 'Let's Arrange a Tragedy!' to cartoon re-enactments of the greatest
tragedies in amerikan history, just for the kiddies.
If marketed the right way, I am sure that this will surpass Fox News Channel as the most
important 'news' channel of all time.
top
pg. 113.5
In Excess: celebrity
Ode to fame
Create a revolution
Be a teacher
Dance on your father's grave
Holes through the window
Rebuke your mother's hand
Say "I love you."?
Know to hate you.
Realize
Realize
Realize again
Run around with a dollar and let it happen naturally
Get pregnant by a rock star
Contract a disease
Let the world know
Become an outcast
Become a martyr
a liar is a liar
truth is just the anti comfort
once again... dance.
top
pg. 522
The Dignity Files
by: Pete (dwain).
Not too long ago, hours to be exact, a friend and I got to drinking and in the
midst of drinking, we started talking about the obligatory topic of conversation: Mr. John
Fitzgerald Kennedy, Jr. What did we have to say about this great man that hasn't already
been splashed across Time, Entertainment Weekly, or Playboy? Well, for starters, his death
means a great deal on the singles scene. Of course this can go two ways and I'm about to
show you how.
As any stereotypical display of two avenues goes, we have the good way and the bad way.
Since I'm all about mindfucking, let's handle the good way first.
Now that Kennedy is dead, the bar for us men have been lowered. No longer will we have to
be standing the aisle of grocery store with our significant other (or any woman for that
matter) and in the passing of time happen to look at a tabloid with HIS face on it. Surely
you remember the times your girlfriend would just sigh and think: "Damn, what in the
hell am I doing here with chopped liver when I could be with Grade A steak?" Now that
he's gone and there's no one else who could even come close to comparing unless you count
that numero uno pretty boy Leonardo DiCaprio. Since even I can kick his ass, I doubt that
I'll be harmed by that comparison.
Now for the bad way. Once upon a time, I saw this film called Love Field with
Michelle Pfeiffer. It was about this lady so obsessed with the first dead JFK. So much so,
it ruined her life until it got back on track again. The point is this: women have always
had this obsessing quality about those Kennedy men. I remember my babysitter going on
about the first JFK as well as Elvis. Wait, it gets worse. I think that Junior followed
the philosophy of "live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse." Any
older, and he'd start looking like Uncle Teddy and women would be treating him like Elvis
and trying figure out where he went wrong with his looks. If he'd gone out like that, then
we, the males of america would be looking better than Junior and that would just be
unpardonable. So when he dies like this, his image is etched into the minds of women as
virile, attractive, and rich. Everything the average man will never be.
Then again, it could just be me.
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pg. 37
Here go our credits. Since we lack credibility, we make it up. At least that we
can have some sort of credentials.
Pall Bearer #1. . . . .Paul B. Whitley
Disinterested On-Looker. . . . .antihero
Token man of the cloth. . . . .preacher hank
Absolutely no respect for the dead. . . . .R. Tissun Oan
Dressed for the occasion. . . . .Dave Black
Laughing Mourner #3. . . . .Pete
The missing corpse. . . . .Tom Snyder
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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.
Props to the
Blazer
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