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...that society doesn't want to acknowledge pg. 49. . .Editorials & such c1997-1998 Mongoose Type Entertainment |
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"Such heroic nonsense" pg. 49 This is the closest we'll give you to an editorial. from: Pete's cousin, probably Earl
the such: Once again, we are behind schedule, but you've probably seen most of this stuff. We have three new bits, just to give a reason to stick around to the end. Have we disappointed yet? So. We're still on the lookout for females for the special. Well, actually, what we're looking for anybody interested in getting dirty with a rogue's gallery. How about this? For Valentine's a very special BSQ. How does that include you? Send in the DUMBEST questions you have about Valentine's. They don't have to be dumb, but chances are that they are so send it in anyway. Where? Here. Good enough? Just a quick bit about all of this and then you're set. On behalf of everyone at SDM: THANKS! You should know why. We know why we're still here and we hope that it stays that way until all ribbons are abolished. If you thought that this could go no further, then wait and maybe you'll be right. With that said done, get on with it. BTW, when we say best, it means nothing, really. These are really nothing more than eyebrow raisers. Not only does this reduce ego damage but it states that we actually believe we're better than most ragtag, moptop ezines. We don't have to prove it, we just do. pg. 3.1416 I am sick to the depths of my tolerances from listening, a month and climbing, and reading about the absurd boycott of Disney, the one mouse monopoly, feeding in frenzy off of history, children smiling, and parents recently paid, by the Baptists. What the entire fiasco sprang from, I find it difficult to recall, because for so long the rant from the Baptists is that they seemed determined to challenge all good sense by boycotting the mouse in all his ungodly shapes and forms. that would mean no movies, wonderful little plush characters, McDonald's happy meal toys, or Disney channel, for the Baptists spanning the country. That list isn't inclusive of the countless enterprises of which Mickey, the rodent parasite, has become a financial contributor. Combining the latter list with the former, you can imagine that the Baptists have relegated themselves to sitting in a corner, mutter inarticulately at the air... and reading SDM, because, as a matter of dignity, we could not be bought. The humor of this fiasco stems from the reactions of the populus who had no idea that Mick had such a sordid little empire growing. Nor did they know that, not only is most of their existence a financial liability to Walt, but a few properties engaged in most un-disney-like ventures. The venture that almost preemptively set off the Baptists Association was the movie 'Priest', about a gay man of the cloth (I find it ironic that the Catholic Church has been content to let this one go.). There are others of course. On top of everything else, the film studios Miramax' seems to irritate our southern friends to no end. The argument here is not about the mouse, nor is it about anything else Disney has done. In the end, what it all boils down to is that the Baptists are trying to make Disney the example they need. They same thing happened in the O. J Simpson trial. The trial had nothing at all to do with racism. Simpson was simply a convenient excuse to make the underlying hatred in America work towards exonerating him to look towards a larger issue. Mick's dilemma is much the same. The Baptists I would doubt really care about Disney. In Johnny Cochrane fashion, the issue they're raising is a larger one, not addressed yet, as few but the Baptists would think of it in such terms, which is God vs. Pop Culture. I'm not freeing Disney from any blame, they deserve as much as can be given. I assume their objective isn't to bring God more into mainstream culture, just to remind people that all the television, and movies, and icons they so dearly love, are bound to pass, inevitably. The point is that the mouse will wash away, one day or another. pg. 24 Here you go, the conclusion to the spellbinding serial that got finished. Keep in mind that those with heads in clouds should not read it: Turning around to take a last look at the marvel that is nature I was almost mugged! Some stupid looking dope in red and white pajamas (?) was standing there... smiling. Pissed me off too, so I decked him. Not just once. Not just twice. Not even three times. I won't keep going on with this, so I'll just tell you. I hit him close to ten times before the son of a bitch went down. But all that matters is that he did. After that, I kicked him. Then again. And again. This went on till my shoe flew off my foot. Seeing that this trespassing fool wouldn't be moving for a good while, I ran inside and called my best friend, "Son" of Armchair. Since it was closer to two in the morning than it was to ten in the evening, Son wasn't happy to hear from me. Nevertheless, the promise of violence drew him to my house. The party was about to begin. He got there rather slowly, considering he is my next door neighbor. Sure, he was half asleep. Sure, it was cold. Sure, there was snow everywhere. Those aren't viable excuses. I had someone in my front yard just asking for an old fashioned beatdown. Son got there and took in the view. His first words that came from this sight weren't ones I'd planned on hearing. "You son of a bitch!" "What?" "That's Santa Claus!" "My ass!" "It is!" "Prove it." "Look at him." "So, alot of bums dress like Santa." "Look at the twinkle in his eye." "I thought that was just snow or something. Do you think it's him?" "Does John Tesh need to bite the bullet?" "Damn. We did it now!" "What are you waiting for?" "What?" "Finish the fucking job." I went into my house and got some lighter fluid and raw meat. This was a murder I had had planned since elementary school. To roast Santa Claus and feed him to my dog, Totie. Totie is dead now, but I do have a new dog, who could handle the job. To make a long story short and a boring Christmas merry. We killed the jolly, old bastard. Not only that, we had to kill him twice. Believe it or not, the son of a bitch was immortal. Was. I've seen every episode of Highlander, as well as the movies. The logical thing seemed to be to cut off his head and bury it under my other neighbor's mailbox. How's that for Christmas Spirit? In all honesty, I'm not bullshitting you. Santa was real. Santa was killed. You can thank me later. I won't get caught either. Son and I were well compensated by the jealous alliance of the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Since they are backed by dentists and farmers, two groups that the world depends on, I can sing from the highest mountains about my crime, and you know what? You can't do one damn thing. Good riddance to all, and to all the worst night! AND IT WAS FINISHED!!! pg. 257 As I was flipping past the channels today, I saw an interesting piece of truth. Oddly enough, it was a music video. It was for some group called the Smashing Pumpkins. The video looked alright, but I could care less about that. It's the lyrics I'm getting at. The video started with some funny looking guy in a "Zero" shirt who said, "The world is a vampire." Finally! Someone who relates. The world, no, better yet, society is a vampire that sucks everything out of a person and leaves him or her just like society. Not only that, the victim is a slave. I'm sure you've seen "Interview With a Vampire." In other words, SOCIETY ASSIMILATES TO THE WORST DEGREE! Some of you can surely relate. Everywhere I go, I see the victims of society following around other victims of society. Zombies with a sense of what should and should not be cool. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go to the malls! Everyone there has had their sense of individualism sucked dry. There are cliques, couples, gangs, loafers waiting to be assimilated, and of course, somebody's parents. They don't know why they're there, but it's probably to spend money (I'll kill that topic in the future). People wonder why it is that the youth of Amerika are getting dumber. You want to know why? BECAUSE THEY ALL SHARE THE SAME MOTHER FUCKING BRAIN! Sure, not all of Amerika's youth is busy yacking on the phone, eating tacos, and trying on clothes, but the ones who don't sure as hell aren't making up for the difference! I have nothing else to write, the topic disgusts me. c1997 G. Nih Ton. Reprinted with permission. pg. 42 last week, the world's fastest-growing evangelistic organization, the self-styled "promise keepers," staged a rally in our fine nation's capital. there were hundreds of thousands of people out in support of their religion. interestingly enough, every single promise keeper in attendance had a dick. it seems that women need not attend this ground breaking religion. in my experience, women are pretty much equal with men. sure, men have their traits, and women have theirs, but that's no reason to exclude women from something so important as eternal salvation or damnation. but it seems the bible said that's the way it should be, so, regardless of all common sense to the contrary, that's exactly what they did. they had a huge gathering, and said that their women could stay at home. i guess they could take up all that time cooking, or cleaning, or something. now, normally, i try not to fuck with someone's religion (unless i feel like it) but i truly think that's a stupid thing to do. totally putting aside the fact that women do make up the greatest part of our wonderful population, women are sometimes intelligent creatures, much to the surprise of some. i'm not gonna turn this into a junior high school report on women in the workplace, but a lot of important things have been done by the better smelling half. radium, for instance. we wouldn't have radium without women. for that matter, we wouldn't have people without women. and, let's face it: men could never decorate a house, so, without women, we'd all live in hovels. so, let's give at least a little credit where it's due. i think that was all. pg. XX The most pressing problem we are facing today is not drugs. Nor is it poverty. It's not even racism. The biggest problem is far more important than any of those. That problem is UBS, or Ugly Baby Syndrome. UBS is an immunity problem. It means that your baby is immune to in-the-face discussion of how ugly he or she is. No one comes up to parents in the mall and says, "You know that is the ugliest damn baby I have ever seen. What in the hell happened?" Why not? Well, it's because of UBS. It prevents people from doing such things. Of course it wears off around age four when the child comes into contact with strange children, the only group who can resist UBS. Children can see through bullshit, you know. There are a lot of people out there who think they can resist UBS. No one can, that's the sad part. Biker gangs can't. Klansmen can't (well, sort of). Neither can Pat Buchanan or Bob Dole. What we need is a cure. Why? Because this is the only way to prevent the second biggest problem facing us today. WSMK Syndrome. You may know of this as Wanna See My Kids Syndrome. If people got it through they're heads that they're kids weren't the next JonBenet Ramsey or Shirley Temple, we would be able to read the magazines at the doctor's office in peace. It doesn't matter if the children are ugly or not, don't let them think the children are "so cute" or "just plain adorable." If you do, you'll regret it later. You'll never be able to finish a magazine article in peace. pg. 54 Well, it's happened. The fat lady sang. Hell has frozen over. MTV showed a music video. Nevermind the fact that it was Hanson and 15 minutes of commercials followed it. They actually showed a music video. I remember that in the early days of MTV, they actually showed videos the majority of the time. Then some jackass came up with the idea that MTV should have dumb programs in addition to whatever. It started out with a few stupid, half-hour programs. To make up for the time that the shows took up--commercial time, they cut back on music videos. This continued until MTV was 70% commercials, 25% mindless entertainment, and 5% music videos. Which makes the name Music TV a little irrelevant. Usually when a network makes a mistake, they try to ignore it for about a year and then they fix it. MTV makes a new channel, M2. All videos, all the time. Isn't that what MTV was supposed to be? Not to mention that the people who run MTV also do VHI, Nickelodeon, and I think a few others. They could have easily put all those stupid shows on another channel. But they were stupid and decided not to. That's MTV for you. Of course, now that I'm done complaining, I just realized that I had no real reason to be watching MTV in the first place. Maybe I'm a hypocrite. So sue me. pg. 8 I'm writing this with a headache - so my tolerance level is even lower than normal. I'm also writing under the assumption that we all know our judicial system is fucked up. (If you don't agree - research it a little - I've done my homework) - Anyway, I'm sick and tired of this "I'm not guilty because I'm a victim" bullshit. People need to take responsibility for their actions and stop whining. I'm sorry that your husband raped you, you still have no right to cut off his dick. I'm sorry that you're clumsy and hot coffee got spilled on you. It's not the fucking McDonald's fault. Get a napkin, wipe yourself off, and go to work like the rest of us. Stop crying like a baby. I'm sorry you're addicted to cigarettes - it's not the damn manufacturers fault. Shit! I smoke nearly 1/2 a pack a day but I chose to light up each time and in 30 years when I have cancer and my kids are watching me die, why should I blame that on anyone but myself? I am not a victim. These people who feel that their wrongs are justified by their bad lot in life are just fucked up. Life doesn't owe us any favors. Get over it. Just because you have a dysfunctional family (like 98% of America) doesn't mean you get to blame all your shit on everyone else. People need to grow up and get over it. Not that I think people should have to live with abuse or suffer through bad things but there are ways to overcome your difficulties and get on with your life. If you are a victim it is only because you choose to be. Take responsibility for your own goddamn actions and grow up a little. Well, i'm outie-have a good day, or night, whenever you read this. pg. 258 So, the year ended. Satisfied? People died and you watch. Enjoyable? The way you spend your time. Next year, promise to watch Rome burn down in a blaze. Present Propraganda. Very enjoyable. Everyone died. Madmen thrived. Everyone died. Spoken. Spoken. Spoken. Remember the fun as you saw what was wrong. Complain. The nature of all. It was fun to see it all end. Rappers. Singers. Poets. Legends. Never returning. Then the finish. Is that satisfactory? The days ticked on and you lived. Helped. Aided. Cloned. The grand life strikes again. Nothing helped the dead. The dying. The endangered. Once the presents were open, you decorated the tree. The songs of joy came natural. You're alive. You're rejoicing... and they're still there. Welcome to the great nineteen-ninety-eight. pg. 17 I won't start this off with any witty statements or controversial tidbits because I don't know any. And even if I did, they've probably already been used by some asshole who got them from some other asshole who had too much time on their hands and had to go and think up the damn thing. So I'll just start. And if you don't want to listen, click on that little down arrow over there and read something else. I won't be mad cause I don't want to listen either. We live in a fucked society. That's plainly obvious, and every writer for SDM has addressed that fact from one aspect to the next... I guess I'm just continuing the trend. Has anyone else but me noticed that to even survive in society today, one must be distinctly labeled according to their clothes/music taste/attitude/friends (or lack thereof)/whatever else is SO crucially important? I've noticed. What happened to the days when you could just BE, when you didn't have to have an image to uphold? Maybe it was never like that. Maybe you were always labeled and couldn't change that or do anything that didn't fit in with "who you were" (unless you wanted to be considered - gasp! - a POSER). Everywhere you go, people are gonna ask you "what you are"... Nowadays, you have several options to choose from: Preppie? Trendoid? Stoner? Punk? Goth? I don't want to name anymore, cause I'm gonna hurl any second. What I'm really getting at is...who the hell am I? I fit into a hell of a lot of categories. Yes, I mainly wear black, but I'm not a goth. Yes, I love punk music, but I'm not a punk. Yes, I've been suckered in by the Gap (well, my mom dragged me in there to get a polo shirt for school, so I guess that doesn't count) but I'm not a preppie. And I'm not gonna give you the details of my drug history (so fuck off) but I'm not a stoner. So what the hell am I? I'm one of those freaks who's there, but no one really gives a rat's ass. I have friends, but I'm not "popular", cause I refuse to enter a mall. I play the guitar, but I'm not a grunge rocker. And I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, so I guess I'm not a poser. I should probably come to a conclusion about who I am at this point, because my father's waiting to use the computer and you're probably ready to kick my ass for taking too long. So I'm concluding that I definitely need to rethink this whole concept of "myself" so I can fit into one of those categories. That way I'll know the way my whole life will go... what friends to pick, music to listen to, where to shop... Damn! I'll never have to make a decision again! This is great! Now my problem is picking one of the fucking groups. This could be difficult... but hey! Since after that, I'll never have to think again, why not practice now? Hey you, reader! Tell me what I should be. Please? Hello? HELLO? Someone please classify me. I'm confused. pg. 1999 A great man died this past week. John Denver meant something to me, and writing this may be the only way to salvage his good name from the raptors at SDM. Not only was this man a great singer-songwriter, but he was a vocal advocate of many worthwhile causes. I don't ask much of you people, but all I want is a moment of silence for this great man who deserves nothing short of absolute respect. So, as you read this, tell all around you to "SHUT UP!" This way you will be giving deserved respect. Now, please be quiet and let this man be remembered. [SILENCE NOW] Before I close, let me take the opportunity to discuss SDM's coverage of Princess Di. I don't normally read anything involving SDM, but I did get a decent "dose" of SDM's Princess Di thoughts, and I was left in utter dismay. I do not like the way this woman was treated posthumously. She did great things and that should be remembered, not the coverage of her death. Thank you. pg. 007 Tiger Woods is a good golfer. Who cares? Unfortunately, he'll never be known for anything other than conquering another one of the white man's sports in the name of the black man. An honor; I might add, he isn't trying to take credit for. Besides, who wants that on their resume? It's only golf, the sport of pricks. While it would be nice (and easy) to degrade golf, that's not what I'm here for. I am here to discuss another topic, slavery. And Tiger Woods is the latest high profile face to be put up on the auction block. Imagine if you will, a world where you can only wear one brand of underwear. One brand of shoes. One brand of shirts. Sign one type of baseball card (I'm sure we all have that problem). It goes on. Many of you can probably sense where I'm going with this, and the common response is, "Look at all the money he's making." I'm sure we'd all love to just say a few words, smile, and show off the duds, for, oh say, 5 million dollars. Yeah, I'm sure it's great to sit down and watch some big celebrity brainwash our kids with the thoughts of what is cool and what should be bought. The point I'm trying to make is this: for a good enough price, the most macho of all men would suck RuPaul's dick, and let it air to the world on national television. Backside to the camera (but a picture of his face shown next to this lovely sight) with a Trojan Condom bumber sticker palstered to his ass. Welcome to America. You're probably refuting this for yourself as you read, but everyone has a price, and the only thing one has to decide is whether or not he'll be able to get away with not swallowing. How about an extra million? Needs more sugar. Sure, getting a few million for losing face isn't too bad. Hell, that's a lot of money. To you maybe, but the pervert with the big bank account can sneeze six million away at breakfast and get it back by dinner. The point here is this: if it isn't too much to them, then you're not doing anything special but developing a new diet for an amount of money that'll never be able to buy back any of the dignity you swallowed right along with a stomach load of spunk. pg. 113.5 Rather than highlight whatever it is we've done with "In Excess," why don't we do something different? Highlight the greatest mistakes made by SDM this year. Forget the bullshit, we're imperfect, and we hope it shows... not that any of us give a damn. 1. A literary serial. A little ditty called "Cindy." Remember it? It never
ended. Honorable Mention: Majority of the titling... it sucks! pg. 1\2 If I hear that friggin' 'two thumbs up' crap one more time applied to a movie I had planned on seeing, that's the day I find a good book. Think about that though. If you wanted to see the kind of shit that Siskel and Ebert like, then you're going to have to go find a good book because the only movies they rave about are the ones where everyone else had something more exciting to do. The flicks they don't like (i.e. the ones that gross somewhere around a few hundred billion dollars) get that lame 'I didn't think it was believable' label. What is REALLY unbelievable is that these two pricks get paid to do this. They have a show. Most newspapers in America print that 'thumbs up' nonsense. But still, they're able to wake up every morning safe in the knowledge that they have nothing to do that day but what most of America does to kill time. And what makes them special? Nothing that I can think of. I bash movies for the hell of it, I'd feel like a politician if I had to be paid to tell the people that I'm right and that's just the way it has to be. If there is anyone out there who goes to the movies for the same reason as our buds in Chicago, then you should be shot where you stand. If you'd like to do it now, I can wait. A few less Siskels and Eberts running around the free world and I'll sleep better at night. Without nightmares of fat kids with glasses and skinny kids in sweater vests chanting like the seven dwarves... Damnit, what are you waiting for? Here I am ranting to try to stall for you to find enough time to find a good shotgun, and all you can do is sit there, thinking I was kidding? Do I amuse you? Shit. They liked that movie. Okay, well... Yippy ki yay, mother fuc...no...they liked that movie, too. Look, uhmm... I'm going to go ask my Uncle Kurt something. If I don't get back, remember, if you liked the Under Siege movies, you're a loser. 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. 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. If you do have a happy new year, then try reading this again. |
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