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pg. 49. . .Editorials & such c1997-1998 Mongoose Type Entertainment |
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"If I didn't want to be responsible, I'd be a fucking priest." pg. 49 Editorials: Due to lack of incite, we didn't get any editorials. It doesn't matter. Not right now. the such: For those of you hooked on the Socially Deranged Interpretation: Cindy, wait until next issue. Sure, it's fun to overload your minds, but not your browsers. It has been proven, but not by us, that the more you get, the less you read. Normally, we don't care, but there is a purpose to all of this. I have also been instructed by someone here to drop a word about verge, an offshoot of SDM. I don't know much about it, but it's literary. [For more info click here.] I'd also like to mention an upcoming special issue that we are all working our asses off for. CENSORSHIP! If you're interested in contributing for our greatest and perhaps the most conceptual thing ever done, drop a line here. It's something that won't be easily forgotten. Now that we can, get on with it. P.S. SDM has never and will never go soft. Despite the thoughts surrounding the last issue, none of us have changed direction. We're still the insufferable assholes you know and love. Issue 6 was just a release. An accident, if you will. pg. 178 At the risk of causing SDM to come off as some sensitive/humorous kind of thing, I want to get insightful. Let's talk about change. Not puberty or some teenage rite of passage. I'm talking turning around and looking back and seeing someone completely different, only not that fast. By now, you must be getting my point, which means I can proceed. Not too long back, a longstanding friend dropped me some email. I won't attack the condescending surprise of her thoughts on SDM. But I will attack what has now become, what I think to be the pseudo-importance of her life. Once upon a time, when I was growing up in this crazy, wacked out world friends had a different importance to me and the people around me. They were there for you. In fact, many of your friends were extensions of family. As I grew up to become the cynical son of a bitch you now love to hate, I realized something: friends don't mean shit. I would hear people throw around a friend's name as if they were some hotshot with a celebrity associate. When people spoke of them, there was an emptiness about it. In other words, it was absolute bullshit. Back to what I set out to say: it was like watching as Bambi's mom slowly to hear this now changed friend of mine sum up her life with percentages of how certain aspects of her life was now occupied by these guys she met at work. To be honest, it made me sick to think I knew a person I am vocally against the existence of. Sure, I still love her, but when it seemed like she was implying that I needed to make an appointment just so that we could hang out, I knew I had entered the world of casual bullshit. As if that weren't enough, I later received another message in which she wrote for what seemed to be the sole purpose of telling me that she was too busy to do anything with anybody, because of percentage schedule with her guys from work. Just so you know, I'm not only bitching, but I am laying it all down so that you can be warned before it happens to you. You can't stop it, because it just happens. pg. #2 as i'm sitting here, in my bathroom, my mind wanders. i have found myself thinking about sports. the event which brought this topic to my mind is the fact that, tonight, jeopardy was pre-empted by football. don't get me wrong. i have nothing against sports, or football in general. but, as a musician all my life, particularly in high school, it got real old being told "sorry, you have to get off the field. yes, we know the field was reserved for you. but the football coach decided to practice." or the soccer coach... or the baseball coach. or having to pay for trips in the twinkies to band competitions, and seeing our shitty football team in charters every fucking game. we wound up with a room full of trophies, the football team was 1-9, or something like that, but the football team gets all the glory, funds, and, of course, chicks. my point, which i will come to in my somewhat round about way, is this. why is it that athletics play such an all-encompassing roll in today's schools? when many of the most-admired people in history--the people who are responsible for our lives as they are--are intellectuals, as opposed to athletes, why are athletes considered almost godlike, while intellectuals are nothing more than geeks? it's a sad fucking trend the world has turned to. pg. 86 Why is it that men always seem to have better things to do then talk on the phone with us women? I call up my new guy the other day, and after a couple seconds, he tells me his little sister needs to use the phone! She's 11!! What can she possibly have to say to her friends that's more important than me telling my guy about my day??? And what's with this thing that when guy sleep around he's cool, or a pimp, or whatever, and when a female does it, she automatically a slut??? These things just don't make sense! And what about the way a girl dresses. If she dresses in short shirts, she's considered easy.... that's not always true! Men just can't understand! They can't understand anything women go through! I swear, if a man had to go through child birth, he'd kill himself! pg. 257 Not too long ago, the world began mourning a woman who seemed to be loved by many and observed by even more. Before I go any further, I would like to say one thing: WHO THE FUCK CARES? Now that I've said that let me get on with my article. I'm going to cover a lot of topics in a short amount of time, so be prepared to jump with me. Not only that, but I'm going to stick with the same theme that I started out with: that dead woman. To begin with, the only thing she ever did for me was pollute my vision in the grocery store checkout, so I have no idea why I can hardly go anywhere without circumstances of both her life and death being analyzed to the fullest. Not only that, her death and memory has been lessened to nothing more than in-the-newsroom opinion polls. Here goes an example: Do you think the world will be more interested in the royal family now that it's most popular "member" is dead? And of course, no celebrity would be dead without some cause spawning from the ashes. The cause this week is "what to do when a child loses a parent." It has movie of the week written all over it. I hate the media more than the next man, but I have to say they only played a factor. Sure, drunk men have the tendency to get away from the demons that follow, but he was still a drunk driver, so my logic is this: that lady died because of a drunk driver attempting to flee her greatest enemies. Nevertheless, it was a stupid death. As for the media, it is bound to happen sooner or later. They want to blame the paparazzi, but they ARE the media. I could go on and on about the hypocrisy of the mainstream media and how they are really trying to push the blame on a certain faction of the media just because they know that every member of the media is responsible because they thirsted for this shit more than the public, but I don't feel like it. c 1997 G. Nih Ton. All rights reserved. pg. 38 If Mtv were an ice cream flavor, i would have to say it would either have to be plastic (for it's blandness) or probably haggis. My point is, Mtv just plain sucks damnit! Remember when Martha Quinn and Ricci Ratman (i know i misspelled that paloko, so don't bitch about it) ruled the stage and shows like Headbangers Ball and Remote Control were flouted about the screen? That's when Mtv played this little thing called music, and they had music videos... remember those? Nowadays, The Real World, and it's complete copy except for the fact that they don't live in a dream house, instead a souped up Winnie, Road Rules have taken over. Not to mention these shows... Singled Out Beavis and Butthead (probably the most boring half hour of TV, and I've seen Hard Copy, so don't count it.) Daria Jenny McCarthy Show (another way to show off her fake ass tits) Oddville (i actually like Oddville, i like the freaks, and the fact that they are so desperate to get on tv, that they rip hair off their chest ((even girls)) just to do it.) Apt2f (one word--shit) there are more, we all know it, but i can't think or anymore, and i'm not gonna kills brain cells on thinking about a channel that has to have a beach house to have beautiful girls in bikinis and prancing around with their boobs bouncing like freakin superballs, and just to get viewers. it's cheap. one more thing... the music they do play... how can i describe this without making a remark that will offend MTV viewers... oh, ok. the music videos that are played on Mtv have the complete talent of a movie such as AIR BUD, or, DUNSTIN CHECKS IN. I think of MTV like a network such as the WB, or UPN, not going anywhere or if they are, it's not to a good place. People are opening up to new sounds, like ska... it's starting to get popular again (it failed as a mainstream music genre in the 60's and the 80's, and it probably will in the 90's as well.) and Mtv is trying to capitalize on it. Playing about 3 ska bands (it's really ska-core, if they played real ska, people would laugh at them, and Mtv can't do that) but it really isn't working. People are still turning to local and independent music finally. But is that a good thing? Cause if we all like "independent" music, then it won't be independent. well, i'll let that for you to decide. See ya round, suckers! pg. 007 I'm guessing that there will be some sort of influx in media bashing, so I'll cover something else. Let's discuss homophobia. If you don't already know, I'll clue you in on something. Everybody's guilty of it in one way or another. It's not the fear of homosexuals or AIDS patients, it's the fear of human beings, which means if you ever do something that was brought on by the fear of what person may or may not do, then you are guilty. It doesn't matter what the person looks like, you are guilty of it. Of course, no one would read this if all I talked about was the fear of people and the trouble it can cause in the mall, so I'll just go the old fashioned route and talk about homosexuals. Growing up in the south, I am surrounded by closeted gays and gay bashing males AND females. Sometimes the bashing is a mere joke or just "queers go to hell." Hearing this like I do, I can understand why so many commit suicide. I'm not going to stand here and speak for either side, because doing so can only cause me to come off sounding like a preacher, but I'll proudly speak out against the bullshit that goes on every day because the man walking down the street is a "faggot." It's ridiculous that all of the people who bash gays were once in the same position. Once upon a time, Irish Catholics were discriminated against. Blacks had to go to the back. Native Americans still have to put up bullshit. If a "good ol' boy" goes up north, they aren't laughing at his jokes. Idealism gets us nowhere, so I won't say that things will get better because they won't. Honestly, I hope my child isn't gay. Not because I would be fearful of him and his friends, but because I don't think he would be able to handle it. I wouldn't be able to say "if you're gay, tell me, it'll be better then," so we would naturally be at odds that exist because of his fear to tell me. It's frightful that the world can't get any happier than this. pg. 54 I went to the post office yesterday. I hate going there, knowing that post office employees get more money than I do. Do you realize that for selling stamps and stuffing mail into little boxes, you can start off getting paid $12.68 an hour? Like that's so hard. When I got there, the first thing I spotted was the stamp machine. I cannot see a stamp machine without buying one. Last time I did, I got a regular stamp. This time I decided to get a post card stamp. So I put my money into the machine and pressed 7 different buttons in a completely random order, figuring that something would come out. Instead, the machine beeped a few times. So I pushed a few more buttons. The machine whirred, beeped, then sort of stopped. I got mad, because, damnit that was MY 20 cents, and the machine couldn't take it unless I got my lousy stamp. So, understandably, I gave the stamp machine a good kick and called it something colorfully derogatory. Then I went to the counter where you can buy stamps. Why they have stamp machines when they're paying someone $12.68 an hour to sell them behind a counter, I have no idea. But I wanted my 20 cents. "That stamp machine ate my 20 cents," I told the woman selling stamps. She gave me a blank stare, the kind I always get in public places when I sound older than I look. I can't help it if I could pass for twelve. "Did you push the button?" she asked. "Which one? I pushed a lot of buttons," I said, giving her a Look. "Did the machine give you a stamp?" Obviously, it hadn't. Why would I complain if it gave me a freaking stamp? "No, it didn't. That's the problem." "Did you push the button?" she asked again. I resisted the urge to check her back to see if she was one of those dolls that says one of three phrases when you pull a string on their back. "Yes, I pushed the button." "So what's the problem?" she asked, still giving me a blank look. This time, I did check. No string, although clothing would hide anything below the neck. "The problem," I said, trying not to give her a good shake, "is that I didn't get a stamp." "You pushed the button?" "Yes, I thought I made that clear." She sighed, and got off the chair she was getting paid $12.68 an hour to sit on. She went over to the machine. I followed her. "Which button did you push?" she asked. "Oh, I can't remember. Does it matter?" She gave me a look which made it clear she thought I was twelve. "It matters. If you want a stamp, you have to push the stamp button." "I PUSHED THE BUTTON!" "The stamp button?" "Yes, that one." "Then you must have done it wrong." She proceeded to put twenty cents in, and push about seven buttons. Then the stamp button. Nothing came out. She pushed it again. Nothing still. I couldn't help but feel victorious, since the machine at least beeped when I pushed the stamp button. After about five minutes of trying to look like she was worth $12.68 an hour, she gave up. "You must have done something to it," she said. "I just pushed the button." "You must have broken it." She turned and returned to her chair. I followed her. "I just want a stamp," I said. "How many?" "One. I said A stamp." "You can't buy just one," she said. "Why not?" "They're sold in packs." "But I just want one," I said, getting angry. "Use the stamp machine," she said. One of her three phrases. "The stamp machine doesn't work." "You should have bought your stamp before you ruined the machine," she informed me. "I didn't break the machine. I was buying a stamp." After about fifteen minutes of arguing, I bought a whole pack of stamps. So I was still down 20 cents. I stuffed the pack of stamps into my jacket pocket and left. I thought that was the end of the stamp lady. But I thought wrong. I went to see a movie the next night, for the 9th time, and did like I usually do-- I yelled crucial lines before the actors did. The people in front of me got a little pissed off. Finally, one of them turned around. It was the stamp lady. "You again," she said. And all I could figure was that I'd never see any of my mail again. I just gave her a crushing smile and said, "Box 3220." Then I kicked myself. Now I really wouldn't see my mail ever again. She turned back around. And I remembered the stamps she made me buy. I opened the package. The stamps were those new self-adhesive ones, and they stuck amazingly well in her long hair. When I saw her next, she had a new short haircut. And the stamp machine was gone. Now I like the post office. pg. 113.5 Throughout the history of the world, we have had many sellouts. What is a sellout? Someone who compromises or alters their principles for the purpose of being accepted by a larger audience of people. With that said and done, here goes. But please note, some of these were sent in by readers so our only reasoning of blame could be MTV. Isn't that where it always lies? 1. Hammer (from Mainstream to Gangster) For the next one, we don't really care if you submit, but you may want to anyway. We will be translating talk show topics into what they really mean. Example: "I want my boyfriend back" means "I'm gonna beat you up BITCH!" If you can't resist getting involved, send translations here. pg. 1 I would like to dedicate this article to the career of Dan Cortese. I'm pretty sure we all saw that beacon of status conscious freaks/unneeded tribute to Princess Diana so there is no need for me to tell you what happened, but I will do my best to belittle it as I see fit. Never before have I lost so much respect for such a large group of people in such a gradual pace. Kurt Loder and Tabitha Soren, who bitch about not taken seriously by the mainstream media have no right to complain because they acted like fucking idiots more concerned with fashion than the abyss of anti-news stories transpiring around them. In other words, it was like hanging out with tourists. "Oh! I see the Spice Girls. Look at what they're wearing." Sure, I hate Puffy, but I love Sting, so after I got done cussing at eMpTy V for treating it like a regular performance, I realized: Damn! Puffy likes to dance a lot. It was interesting and with the exception of the obligatory, can we open the Christmas presents mommy, Cuba Gooding-ish speech, and Marilyn Manson performance, it was bullshit. Why? Because everyone and their mother dedicated their damn award, performance, introduction, or credits to Princess Diana. Perhaps this is eMpTy V's way of putting in real news for those who didn't know. Personally, I knew beforehand, and it pissed me off that they didn't let me forget. I don't listen to music to hear about unimportant happenings. Homelessness, gang life, STDs, despondency, Sam Kinnison? Yes! Princess Diana, Oprah's Diet, Bill Clinton's golf swing? Not just no. HELL NO!!! Back to the Princess Di Is Dead Awards: I don't have much else to add except I think the whole damn thing may be read. Have you ever noticed that they used to advertise the daily most wanted phone number up until they showed the no. 1 video? The same thing happened here. Sort of. Prodigy had pre recorded comments for the viewers choice awards, but they even admitted they were still accepting calls. If it's not a conspiracy, some morons got ripped off. It just seems very odd, that's all. It seems that no matter where you go, someone dead is getting a dedication. There are unsung people who work their asses off for a better world everyday, an NBC isn't busting in for their deaths, so as a protest, SDM will not dedicate this section to anyone, especially a pretty face with the unneeded aduration of others. All we have here are lunatics, so enjoy!
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. Be a pal. Give a mongoose a home. |
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