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pg. 49. . .Editorials & such c1997-1998 Mongoose Type Entertainment |
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"You call this a happy family?" pg. 49 If we have any, wait till the next victimization. In case you couldn't figure, this baby will be a doozy. the such: It's Christmas time. Well, just about. Hope it's dreadful and regretful. We have gifts for all interested. First off, there is a taste of the Santa interview (it is here) The details are sketchy, but that's what makes legends. Then, there is a story about Santa. Part One, at least. Don't worry, it will be finished in the next issue. We also have a new writer. Rather unconventional, and altogether frightful. Anything else to celebrate? You bet. No G. Nih Ton. He's not gone, but he is on hiatus. Hot damn! Forgot one more thing. A prodigal writer of sorts. May not make sense. Nothing ever does. Nevertheless, welcome back. And another thing. We are still looking for female writers for at least one occasion. You know, the female spectactular. Our next issue which will probably ring in the new year will be a "best of" collection. Also included with that will be the closure of Christmas (the story) and a year in review by the new guy. The happiness ends here. Read on! pg. 24 In keeping with a tradition of bad judgement and lousy mistakes, we here at SDM have decided to once again take a stab at the niche known as literature. But rather than look to an undependable outsider who is unfamiliar in the ways of SDM, we have looked to none other than our insufferabble, incorrigible one, Pete. So, if you will, take the time to read his take on The Night Before Christmas: Forget some shitty rhyme to start off my story, I'm going to tell it like it is. It was a snowy Christmas Eve. The ground was covered in it. My house was covered in it. And as usual, it pissed me off. Such an event meant either two things to me. Either I would have to stay shut in my house for a couple of days, or worse. I would have to dig myself out of this snow covered hell. I wasn't happy about either of these options, so I thought about improvise. How? I don't know how, and my story isn't about how I escaped. Ten minutes of profound brainstorming had me whupped. That, and it was cold. When I get cold, I get tired. I'm like a bear this time of year. Anyways, I had fallen asleep when I heard a noise in my den where I had passed out due to the aforementioned factors. It was loud enough to wake me up, something that pisses me off more than all of the other things in this story that have already pissed me off... combined. What I saw would astonish anyone. This sight wasn't even a foot from my face. It was right there in front of me. Naturally this sight shocked the hell out of me. In the middle of all this cold and my empty fridge was the world's fattest rat, and this creature was stirring the hell out of me! You may be asking yourself, what in the hell did I do? Simple. I grabbed that dog of a rodent and threw him in my fireplace. Like I said, my fridge was empty. The meat of this story takes place during after the eating of my Christmas Dinner. First, the rat was good. On top of that, some lucky lady will appreciate the fur gloves she'll get next year. Going back to the rat, I must say, I enjoyed it fully. It was about the size of a cornish game hen, and equally delicious. Well, maybe better. As I was cleaning up my cooking pot, I heard a loud noise on the roof. I'm sure you know what I was thinking. Seconds! I figured the rat had to get in somehow. Why not the chimney? Quite a fall, but the ashes are probably helpful to something that small. What I did first was get my jacket. It was snowing. After that, I got my slingshot and bag of ammunition (ball bearings). I fancy myself as a good shot and if this rat was fat as the other one, it would be an easy target. I ran out the door. Forget opening presents I bought myself. I was in the process of opening up a fur boutique. When I went outside and took an intitial look at my roof, I saw nothing. It was night out, but at the same time, a white roof makes anything visibile at any time. Since I did want the risk of having any sort of accident on a ladder, at night, in the snow when no one was around, I just threw sticks at my roof in hopes that my feast would scurry from somewhere to somewhere else. After fifteen minutes of freezing weather and no luck whatsoever I decided to go back inside. That was not my mistake. It was someone else's. To Be Continued... pg. 42 global warming, nuclear war, secondhand smoke. does anyone care? no one cares. but did you, with your arms full of worries and a head full of doubt, ever really think about it? did you think it mattered? you probably did. but does it matter? probably not. the world spins in a circle. it travels in a circle around the sun, the sun travels in a circle around other suns, and on and on. everything is a circle. in the words of the esteemed offspring, "an angry man gets drunk and beats his kids, just the same as his drunken father did. the same old cycle's gonna start again." nothing ever changes. they've tricked you into thinking it changed, but it's a lie. the only real change is death, and since you can only do it once, it's not an attraction at disney land, they don't charge. death is the only free thing in life. at least, it's free to the dead. to the living, of course, that's another matter. death cost a fucking shitload to the living. start with funeral bills, the vulture-like little businessman in the black suit perched on your shoulder "consoling" you, and don't you think the deceased would have wanted the best, and this one's mahogany, and we know your loss is great, and will this be cash or charge? are these the words you will hear when they lower you down into the ground? only if you're not dead. let's hope not. pg. 1999 Remember what I said last time. Love your fellow man. Help those less fortunate. Spread Christmas cheer all around. Merry Christmas Everybody! And a Happy New Year! pg. 54 Winter vacation is approaching, and over half my teachers have already left. Not only this, but the druggie who masquerades as a school administrator decided that the middle of January is a good time to take her 3 week vacation. The teachers and administrators at my school are predominantly liberals. This means that in most cases, I'm working on an assignment with no less than three other people. Rather than learning anything worthwhile, I'm getting a socialized education. I'm learning how to "get along" with other people. Actually, I'm really NOT, but anyway... Part of the reason teachers prefer group work is that it makes their job easier. They just grade one paper or project and give four people a grade. I wonder if it ever occured to teachers that perhaps a way to cut back on the amount of work they have to do is to assign less work. It is my opinion that if you don't feel like teaching and grading, then you should not be a teacher. If you hate kids, you should not be a teacher. If you don't understand what you're teaching ---i f you don't understand what you're teaching, you shouldn't have ANY job. But the thing that bothers me is how little work teachers actually do. Most of them leave when students do. And I don't think they go home and grade homework. I've seen many of my teachers' cars parked in front of sports bars. The lessons I'm being forced to sit through are almost painful. Why do you think teacher's textbooks have the answers in them??? My math teacher is lost without her "teacher's handbook." My English teacher typed up our final exam on his computer and I found no less than seven errors in it. My biology teacher cannot pronounce most of the words in our textbook. And my weight-lifting teacher sits behind a desk through the whole class period. This is what is known as teaching. The only thing I have learned this school year is that you can't eat chocolate through diffusion. My teacher didn't pronounce diffusion right, though. It was probably because of the ammount of alcohol she consumed the night before. Another one of my teachers leaves class periodically and goes outside to smoke and get high. Then he comes back into the classroom and tries not to look stoned. He never succeeds. But dammit, he works hard to get the money to pay for that marijuana. He comes to school every day, sober or not, and attempts to teach the lesson plan that the textbook carefully prepared. He deserves a raise, dammit! He probably does. Other teachers may be straight and sober, but they miss more school in a year than I have in all the time I've been in school. But this particular teacher has yet to miss a day of school. He may show up high and drunk, but he shows up. And that's something. pg. 8 Wanting to further my education after high school, I decided to attend a well-recognized, private, (aaaahhhh!!! don't say it, and yes, christian) university. I liked all of the things I had heard about the school, it had a nationally recognized newspaper, which I liked since I have a fairly significant interest in journalism, and the other things I learned about the school I liked as well. It was my first choice. I got in, I was very excited. So, I moved 3 hours away from home, into the dorms, eager to fill my mind with knowledge. After arriving on campus, the first sign that this school was not for me was the extremely obvious lack of individuality apparent at first glance. Looking around, it was 95% white, well dressed,(no thrift store shoppers here) "preppy" teenagers. On "move-in day" we all came, with our parents, to move into the dorms. Funny, I wonder where these kids learned to dress. Right along side my fellow students were moms and dads in slacks and polos. These kids were the spitting image of their parents. I figured that after their parents left, and it was just us kids, things would loosen up a bit and people would relax and be more their real selves. Come to find out, that is their self. (I leave the word REAL out on purpose.) In highschool I was willing to forgive the bullshit shallowness and snobbiness, clinging to the hope that they would someday grow out of it. Here, in college, or at my particular college, these people will not grow out of it. You can tell by the things they say and the way they act that this is not a phase developed to deal with low self-esteem, this is their true view of things, this is how they really are, and how they really think. They will not out-grow their arrogant, narrow-minded attitudes. They will be this way for the rest of their lives. Now, these kids are no longer living with their parents, so we cannot blame the parents fully. Once you escape the grasp of the folks, it is your responsibility to form your own ideas and opinions about things, rather than being spoon-fed like you were all your life. But, some of the blame does fall on the parents. You cannot ignore the fact that these kids were brainwashed for 18 years and have had only 4 months to shake it. Now, I doubt that their parents said, "honey, you are better than the other people in this world," or "it is good to fit in. Conformity is good." They probably didn't. They probably didn't have to say anything. Actions speak louder than words. They probably only had friends that looked and dressed like them, and had big houses too. These kids went to pricey, private elementary schools, and have been surrounded by people just like them all their lives. They have not been exposed to diversity, therefor ended up like they are. Now, I realize I am being a tad bit stereotypical and general, which is something I do not stand for at all, but here, on campus, this is what I see, and I haven't seen anything different. With the exception of 2 people I have met here, talked to, been in class with, and seen, this description fits them all. So, is it their fault, or their parents that they are bitches and assholes? Well, both. But, one of my points, is that this world needs more real grown-ups. People to teach us to embrace uniqueness and to form our own opinions and to speak our minds. Instead, we get grown-ups who are either stupid, or just don't give a damn. We have important men, leading our country, who talk about the youth of America, and what we should or shouldn't be learning in school, and how the goal of education is to teach us to think for ourselves, but they sit back in their big chairs at the big, long tables in their offices, and make decisions that effect our lives everyday, whether they are decisions that we, as the youth of America, agree with or not. Some effect us in small ways, others bigger. Like, if these "grown-ups" decide that there is something worth having a war and killing people over, (like maybe oil or something important like that) then they wouldn't do the fighting, they'd do the easy, on paper stuff. Kids, like you and me would be the ones fighting. There are few adults worth looking up to. Parents hit their kids instead of hugging them, so they end up not knowing how to love. All the adults we see in the news are hypocritical and corrupt, so all of our examples are shitty. Not that we shouldn't take responsibility for ourselves, but are we just supposed to do the opposite of everything we see? Anyway, now at the end of the semester, I've had enough of it here, and I'm packing my bags. I'm going home, and I'm going to attend a public, state university, where I may not get quite the same level of education, but will be much more comfortable in my surroundings. Understand that I have no problem whatsoever being different than everyone else (and it has nothing to do with money, and everything to do with "what's on the inside"), the point is, who wants to be surrounded by 5400 close-minded snobs. I didn't realize until after I had been here for a month or so, (and after my experience being completely out of place at the first home football game, silly me, showed up in jeans, everyone else in slacks or skirts) that the school I chose is the "Number 1 best dressed campus in the nation." Lucky me, and I didn't even come here because of that, it was just an added bonus. Well, this turned out to be longer than I expected, but if it made you think at all, was it really a waste of time? I leave you with a quote from the woman who tore up a picture of the pope on live television: "these are dangerous days, to say what you feel is to make your own grave." pg. 25 What follows is a sneak preview of the interview. For those interested, it wrapped up over the weekend, and it is nothing less than what you have grown to expect from SDM. Be warned, though. This is not the Santa Claus you thought you knew. Of course, the old fogey was drunk off his ass during the interview. Coming Saturday will be the interview. It is here. Come on by and get excited. Not necessarily in that order. This preview consists of a randomly chosen question and the answer that directly follows. For those interested in who took part in this interview, we must tell you that for fear of retribution from all levels of society we cannot tell you that Max and G. Nih Ton were the sole parties responsible. Nobody, and we mean nobody else, had anything to do with this interview. We don't know how they did it or anything else, we just know that MAX REAGAN and G. NIH TON were the SOLE PARTIES RESPONSIBLE. NOBODY ELSE HAD ANYTHING ELSE TO DO IT. But you did not hear that from any of us. Enjoy the snippets. SDM: So? Santa: I love children you bastard. I would never harm a child. Never. Never. Do you understand me? SDM: What's with all the milk? Santa: I don't know. I'm lactose intolerant. SDM: Are you in an alliance with the Devil? Santa: No. SDM: Is this a sham being perpetrated to appease the all the little baptist children? Santa: No, I am heterosexual. SDM: Of course you do. Don't be surprised if this leads to an arrest. Santa: I'm Santa. SDM: are you ready santa? Santa: I don't know what you want with me. SDM: Not Baby Spice? Santa: Shut up! SDM: When I was 11, I asked for a GI-Joe Devilfish. What I got, Santa, was a My Kid Sister? Why, Santa? Santa: I'll probably hate his children. His parents weren't so bad, but this kid. What a prick. Santa: Do you have another question? SDM: Several. pg. 258 this is the moment of your discontent. enjoy as you sit by your firesides. perhaps your sorrow will be the greatest ally. Children? Family? Carols? utter bullshit. you're so inexplicable. Layaway? Cash? Credit Card? you wallow in it. you say 'praise be to God.' you live 'praise be to K-mart." secretly, you love it, you want it, you know you need it. you're the systematic whore. they own you at the checkout line. come around for the communion. You're a whore! You're a whore! sing. you want to. i want you to repent upon your coupon induced suicide. Never nod off to the brand names. Never creep up on the checkout. and no matter what, always hold on to that buggy. pg. 113.5 Well, Christmas is almost upon us once again, shoppers. It is that time of the year when we all scurry about trying to buy the right teddy or tie for our friends, lovers or significant other that already have more than they need; time to fill the kid's stockings with something that they could use toward a good end; another sock perhaps?. Ever notice that these stockings won't hold a good hard-back or that the kids usually don't want to either? Then we have the relatives. Of course there is the often favored fruit-cake hockey puck that we tend to pass back and forth through-out the years. Mothers-in-law are the typical targets here with sons-in-law taking a close, second place. It seems, however, that when we think we are through with this time hardened ritual, there is always something we forgot to buy for whomever it was we forgot about in the first place; bringing to mind the time honored, "list." Is there a message here? Perhaps I am missing something but it seems that all of our problems revolve around this, so called, "list." What, after all, is it's main use? Is it to ensure that someone we know who knows that we are buying for everyone else, won't feel left out? Perhaps it is so we will not feel guilt for being forgetful and the cause of someone's hurt feelings by forgetting them; intentionally or otherwise. On the other hand, perhaps it is a way for everyone of us to to assuage the misgivings of our own performance in life; a little pat on the back, so to speak. A means of recompense. If the latter is the case, there is still the confessional. I tend to believe that we all can lay claim to have suffered from all of the above at one time or another, seemingly forgetting what the true spirit of Christmas is about. It should not be about the promotion of one's self esteem. It should not be about guilt; that's what Catholicism is for. Though this thought may be related to one of the above; it should not be about popularity, another promotional theme. It should be about selflessness, giving, loving and family with a bit of introspection and reasoning regarding who we actually are and how lucky we are to be alive and in this country. Yes, I know. I was doing alright until the last part, you may be thinking. Well folks, think some more and take a look around you at your possessions, mean or means of transportation and the other freedoms we tend to take for granted. Yes, I am aware that this country has a lot of problems and do fully believe they are not going to get better unless we "strap them on" and do something about it either alone or collectively. You tell me what it should be and I'll bring it up in my next bit of, "In Excess." We should not need a shopping list. We need each other... just as surely as our next breath of air. If only we would not forget who we are and who our loved ones are and how we got where we are today, we could do without the "list." You see, if you think about it you will realize the fact that we are all related in some fashion or another. We belong to the same "human race." This Christmas I ask you to remember to forgive and to realize that it is supposed to be a time of peace, happiness and joy. Put away your weapons and ill thoughts and get into the spirit of the season. Give of yourself to your loved ones and friends, you would be surprised how far a warm smile, hug, hand-shake, true help and good will may travel. Make your offering. If we all did this with our hearts and with regularity, no one would want to take from us. There is still time. Make the best of it. pg. 1 I'm the guy who does entertainment. That's what I've been told, but at the same time, I've also been told that I lack the edge needed to be an asshole. Yeah, right. Just in case I was right about no edge, I will turn that around. Anybody seen Scream 2? One of those movies that is ruined if you know who the bad guy is before the ending comes. It was the mother of Billy Loomis. The hunk turned psycho from the first go 'round. Those who have seen the movie know that it doesn't really mean shit for me to say that, since you don't learn until the end of the movie. Let me go further on down the line. His mother was played by Laurie Metcalf. Who? She played Roseanne's sister. On Scream 2, she also plays a reporter. In all honesty, she ruined the movie. If it was a comedy, I'd say "damn skippy!" But it wasn't and I didn't. One more thing, no there can be no solo acts in Scream 2. The sidekick for this bit was an idiot, but did well. By the way, he was the boyfriend's best friend. Mickey, I think. Is this good enough? Can I ruin it anymore. Of course, I can. Dewey lives and will probably end up brain dead or just flat out retarded in the next sequel. Gale "the bitch goddess" Weathers also lives. Pissed me off. As did the life of Sydney, another life wasted. Randy, my pick for the third man from the first one got it. An absolute load of BS. All in all it was good. Hope you enjoyed your early Christmas gift. Have you been naughty, haughty, or nice. If so, then you'll love these holiday hits!
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. Dickens never made it sound this rough. |
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