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pg. 49. . .Editorials & such c1997-1998 Mongoose Type Entertainment |
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"Where are your heroes now?" pg. 49 From the Anti-Cheerleader:
And now for the crowning joy. From Mutant:
Oh boy, here goes... It's a free country. There's no beating it. Think what you will, it doesn't really affect me, but at the same time, it pisses me off that the public bitches and moans over crap like the bad press we get abroad and the fact that our president is sending troops to help foreigners, rather than putting money to work here. You know what? FUCK OUR COUNTRY! We don't need aid. We don't need help. Nothing will save our country from bigots, racists, and whatever names that can be applied to such people. BTW, I could care less about the person who wrote that. I was making a statement that can apply to everything. the such: What I can't tell you is that there are major things being planned for SDM. What I can tell you is that we NEED WRITERS. Primarily females at the moment. Not just for our spectacular NO BOYS ALLOWED issue coming up around the bend. Another thing I can tell you is that if there is something you want to see in In Excess, drop a line on boatswain@webtv.com . Forgive the lateness here, but I am sure you are used to it. If not, then it's time that you do. Unfortunately, this comes days after turkey day which is almost pointless, but if you pretend that the turkey is in the oven as you read our take on happiness, then it will be as if we were on time. With that said done, have a good Thanksgiving! BTW, America means (to me) that I have the right to turn the TV off when I see a media whore gracing my screen. pg. 178 Aren't we some cynical bastards? Of course, we are. I'm not exactly the ringleader here, but my mentor was the one of the greatest cynics you'll never come across. Why? Because he sold out to be a happy, systemated fool. I suppose that that's what america is all about for me. It eats at you until you can't take it anymore and next thing you know, you are like everyone else. Look at all the outcasts who have been eaten up by the system. I won't bother to name any, because this is more than some flash in the pan celebrity. This is about the parents we see bust their asses day after day only to downsized. I don't have to see some has been celebrity doing a bit part in a crappy as hell sitcom to know that the world sucks. My life has never been dependent upon the actions of hollywood. It is dependent upon the reality lurking outside my door. I can't escape it, nor will I ever try. Instead, I think I'll just do my best to point out the bad points to every naive schmuck I pass on my to the end. With that said and done, hope you had a happy thanksgiving! pg. 42 this thanksgiving, as i sat down with my friends and family to the usual artery-clogging holiday gluttony fest, i started thinking. i know that's a drastic move to make, but i couldn't help it; i had to do something to counter-act the effects of the tryptophan. and as i thought about the nation we (some of us, anyway) live in, a feeling of pride and nationalism completely failed to overcome me. of course, most of the thought which flitted through my mind had to do with how fucked up america is, rather than the benefits of living here. that's assuming, of course, that there are any. but it began to occur to me that america means something to me... and that thing is this: america is pretty much a rip off most of the time. america is a bunch of police beating the hell out of a guy with a candybar, and/or shooting him, because "he had a gun." america is laws that take away its citizens' civil rights, without most of said citizens even taking notice of the fact. america is all about sucking the collective cocks of the money-makers, while pretty much fucking everybody else up the ass. america is concerned with where its oil comes from. america has to make sure everybody's doing what america thinks is right. america is bigotry and fear, hatred and pretty much all around bullshit. happy fucking holidays. by the way: america is a lot of other stuff too, but i'll let you discover that in your own merry way and time. pg. 1999 Knowing this cast of characters like I do, I know that the meaning and spirit of the holiday season will either be lost or utterly desecrated by SDM. Which is why I am writing this. I can't give you a strong message that will cause you to go out and help the world, but I can at least suggest it. Sure, it is Holiday time, but that is no real reason to go out and help down-on-their-luck individuals. In most places, it is cold out. There are some people out there who do not have homes, the adequate clothing, or enough of anything to get through tomorrow. If you do anything this holiday, push aside the cynicism that SDM embraces and do something nice out of the goodness in your heart. You may even enjoy it. pg. 54 One of my friends--okay, my only friend told me once that I can find something wrong with anything. So I've taken it upon myself this holiday season to ruin thanksgiving. In elementary school, they told you that we celebrate thanksgiving because of pilgrims and indians and such. What you weren't told is that the pilgrims were lousy traitors. They left their families and their home because they had problems dealing with authority. They obviously weren't that well prepared, because if they were, most of them wouldn't have died on the way to this hellhole of a country. Basically, they ran away from home because they didn't like going to church. Big deal. I don't like going to church, and you don't see me gathering all me friends up and taking an airplane to Switzerland. [Switzerland had strict immigration policies. Otherwise I'd at least think about it. If I had any friends.] In any case, if they would have just gone to church like they were supposed to, I wouldn't be living in this sorry excuse for a country. I'd be living in Spain or Norway or wherever the hell my ancestors are from. And I probably wouldn't like going to church there, either. But those SOBs decided, we don't like going to church, so let's run away from home with our loser friends, and take a ship to America. This, of course, gave them the right to force their children to go to the church of their choice. One thing led to another, and there was thanksgiving. At least, that's what they want you to think. What really happened is that the pilgrims thought the indians were satan spawns because they had better tans than the pilgrims. So there was a massacre of sorts, and the pilgrims got their sorry asses kicked. The indians left them alone, deciding that they wouldn't be dumb enough to stick around. they weren't. They all moved, and eventually, America was born. By now, you're thinking, "So what's the problem?" I'm getting there. Modern thanksgiving involves spending time with your family, eating enough food per person to feed a small African country, and spending all your money on presents for people who like to pretend you don't exist. What is there to be thankful for? Hey, we're not starving, we have money, let's stuff our faces for about and hour and think about how lucky we are. Going back to a previous point, most people eat enough to feed a third-world country or two. The way I see it, if we're really thankful, we'd give a damn about people who don't have anything to be thankful for, instead of eating the charred carcass of a turkey. Not like I ever do anything, but damnit, I'll complain if I want to. After thanksgiving is Christmas. A religious holiday. Isn't religion the reason the lousy pilgrims came to America? Then tell me where the hell Santa fits in. Are you aware that by switching three letters around, it spells Satan? I rest my case. We're all in America because a few hundred years ago, some idiots didn't like going to church. Now, we forget that religion is the only reason for Christmas. Instead, all you see is Santa's fat face everywhere. In shopping malls, on wrapping paper...it's revolting. We came here for religious freedom, and now we're free of religion. So this holiday season, after you've eaten yourself sick and opened all your lousy presents, I hope you feel terrible. You're no better than anyone else, why should you have more than anyone else? If anything, you're worse than starving people in Africa because they find things to be thankful for. They're alive, they believe in God. And what are you doing? Complaining because you didn't get a second serving of mashed potatoes, whining because you didn't get a new car for christmas. You ought to be ashamed, America. You make me sick. pg. 007 Institutions or country pride? Let's do both. America means intimidation. Prove me wrong, I dare you. In countries around the world looking for a way to rise and all of that other optimistic faith, the one way to piss off the so-called establishment is by conjuring up America. By the way, that also seems to be the only way to get full blown international coverage, unless you're Saddam Hussein. How is this an institution? Simple, in America, our government thrives on it. Forget alien conspiracies. Forget those few who saw the actual assasination of JFK. There are other ways. Look at the IRS. Look at the DEA. Look at the President. If it's not money, it's the overall power brought to the table by our Big Brother. When I think of America, I do think of intimidation. I think of a governor who stood in the way of students making an attempt at being a part of desegregation. I think of a senator who did the longest filibuster in the history of Congress for the sake of getting rid of a civil rights bill. IF anything, we live in a country that knows how to break balls without violence. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Ghandi would be proud. pg. 257 You know what? This isn't some elementary school pageant. It seems like every single issue we do has something to do with what Amerika really means. Surely, these editors must know that it's getting old. Nevertheless, I will carry on with the show, only because it's not fair for all to suffer for repeated efforts of others. What does Amerika mean to me? It means that I live in a country where I can harass recovering alcoholics, aka, Santa Clauses. It means that there's some piece of shit song repeating itself in my head because I'm standing behind some 5 year old purple dinosaur groupie. This country is great. Living in Amerika also means that I have the right pick on your parents for not going through with the abortion. Not only that, but I have every right to shoot your dad when attempts to run me over for pointing out to your mother that she wasted her life by deciding to be a "loving mother." It also means that I am right because, this is a free country. God bless us, everyone! I could go on and on ringing out the finer points of this great country, but why. You know how good it is. And if you don't, then you're doing a good job by reading this bullshit we all call SDM. c1997 G. Nih Ton. Reprinted with permission. pg. 113.5 Another holiday season is upon us and we find ourselves pondering the continuing dilemma; turkey or ham. When our forefathers arrived here I wonder how many times they had that choice. In all likelihood the wild turkey of that day, not to mention today's, was smarter than the settlers as witnessed by their desire to move to a land so hostile that many of those intrepid travelers starved to death. Others just lost their scalps. Something good happened along the way though; apparently someone swapped recipes because part of the fare for at least Thanksgiving includes corn or "maize," as the natives call it. I wonder what the native americans eat for Thanksgiving. Do you suppose they eat turkey or ham? Maybe they eat croissants dipped in hot chocolate? I certainly don't know. What I do know is that I don't want to ever have to choose between turkey and ham... ever again. What's wrong with rabbit for Pete's sake. Maybe that is just what I'll do. I have it on good authority that a nice person I know happens to have three of them in her freezer. Who knows, perhaps by Thanksgiving those pesky pellet shooters will have invaded her garden one more time and we'll have enough for Christmas too... when the rest of you will be asking yourselves, "Lets see, will it be turkey or ham this time?" * | * | * 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 I promised to discuss Kenny G and I won't. To tell the truth, I can't stand him. He's not really jazz. Since elevator music isn't accepted as a music form, they let him claim jazz because of the saxophone. Obviously, I'm not God. Now that you know my thoughts on him, now onto the real deal. Puffy "If I've heard it, I've used it" Combs. Most people out there aren't into rap, so they don't know why they hate Puff Daddy. Because he is under the impression that he has talent, you probably think he just lays down wack beats and cusses. Wrong! Like Kenny G, they let him claim rap because thievery isn't an accepted music form. Rap does consist of talented artists. 2pac, Rza, and Camp Lo are examples of such. What Puffy does is the same thing I did when I put out that underground R&B/Comedy classic Byrd: the pimp and later, the disappointing Phunk Deuce Let me tell you something. It takes no talent to use a karaoke machine. It takes a lot of time and the lack of a life. The only advantage over me that Puffy has money and fools who buy the soup du jour. Aside from that, compared to me, Puffy deserves an album, for "Best Album(s) Full of Songs Stolen from the Years When We Had Sound." Let's see if my son can top that. Has it been a long time? Forget who we were? Does it feel like strangers crashing party? If not, then chances are your memory is okay to excellent. Not that it matters, but does it ever?
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. ...and your little doggy too. |
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