pg. 180
The Tenets of Happiness
by: Alexis Black

You know what I wanna write about? Me neither. I'm split here. Either sadness or writing; they're both hogging all my brain space right now. My boyfriend (and, I believe, the new sdm cartoonist...aren't we proud) just went away for the summer and I'm terribly sad and lonely. Yeah, poor little teenybopper me, the worst thing in my life is that my boyfriend lives two hours away. Yeah, shut up. I'm allowed to be sad if I want to. But I'm also writing a lot lately, and people seem to be trying to pay me for it, which excites me to no end, so now I am jumping up and down, which is maybe an undignified thing for a writer to do, but who the hell wants to read something written by someone who has never jumped up and down. It seems a pivotal part of life to me.

pg. 007
American Gothic
by: Dave Black

Note: This is something I have always wanted to do. This is a commencement address of sorts for the graduating high school classes of 1998. It's been done several times before, but not by me. You can use this as a valedictory address (although such types don't read sdm) and I won't mind. To me the message is over the credit. Do what you will, but enjoy yourself on the way out.

Boys and girls, your world ends today. Gone is the comfort you once felt. Get ready for your personal armageddon. Maybe some of you are well off and don't have to concern yourselves with the real world, but for the most part... WELCOME TO REALITY!

If you are looking for advice, then look further because I have none. All I can do is tell you that you should be worried, because the kids that didn't kill you in high school will become high school students, waiters, fast food employees, bus drivers, and postal workers. Are you scared yet? Just take solace in the fact that these people can be tried for the death penalty. If anything, I hope that I can drill into you the fact that security exists no longer.

It is truly a tragedy that the majority of you graduating seniors are stereotypical amerikans. Let me tell you your life before the excitement unfolds before you.

You will graduate, party, and wake up with a hangover. If anything, this will be a foreshadowing of things to come. Some of you will go on to college, while others will join the workforce or at least help to stimulate the economy. When I say "stimulate the economy," I mean that you will take your parent's money and either buy drugs, booze, or junk food. As for the future laborers of amerika, I respect you the most. Why? Because you will keep this country above while the lazy smartasses you went to high school waste time procrastinating (attending college) in hopes that they won't have to get a real job. It is my dream that those losers will flunk out and learn the hardest way.

As for the ones who hope to become "educated," let me laugh now. You guys are jokes. Sure, there is a percentage that will acquire some serious knowledge. That's nice, but for the most part, you people are just wasting paper and ink. Some were born to lead, some were born to sustain, some were born to die. Soon, you will find out your category.

pg. 1812
Brossart Wit and Wisdom.
by: The Bathroom Bandit, an outside agitator at a major university in the Midwest."

*8* A PIECE OF TOILET PAPER"

Do I have to follow you around like a piece of toilet paper?!" bellowed a teacher on Tuesday, October 18, 1988.

Why didn't he just follow the toilet paper itself? Then maybe the principal would never have set it on fire.

The lecture continued: "I don't buy this little act!"

But there are some acts that you can buy at Brossart, such as the act of not being punished after slamming someone's head against a school bus window. Or the act of receiving an "A" for sleeping in class while those who don't have the money to pay off the school flunk. How's that for bribery?

*9* THROW YOUR OWN HOUSE

On Tuesday, May 24, 1988, there was the usual gang-style battle at the beginning of history class, in which students toppled desks and attacked each other. But there was an exciting twist: A student grabbed the stapler off the teacher's desk and hurled it across the room. It crashed to the floor, and dangerous staples flew everywhere.

When the teacher showed up, he muttered, "Hey hey," and trudged the wreckage as if nothing had happened.

But when he heard how his stapler had been destroyed, he told the offending student, "If you want to throw something, why don't you throw your own house!"

Days later, when the school year finally drew to a slobbering close, guess who was presented with a bill for the stapler despite the fact that he had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with its destruction?

That's $16.95 down the johnny pot.

*10* A NEW EXPERIENCE

During my second year as a sophomore--the extra year was a result of the school's arrogant dissatisfaction with my hard work--the "prayer and sacraments" priest flew into a rage when a student ridiculed a prayer on a quiz. "

pg. ---
The Obligatory Poetry Corner

[Psalm 7...]
by Zombie
Open this
tear me
rip me
drink up
i am but a delicacy
for this is my body eat of me
and this is my blood
drink of me
and this is my life
rape me
all is washed away in time
all is a swiftly fading memory
I am the name you can't remember
the face u can't picture
but you you cannot forget
i am your God

pg. 215
My Baby Sister
by ben ohmart

I bet you're all asking yourself - what do I do with a stillborn? I was just like you, I didn't know what to do.

My parents are the basic kind, they think one of each sex is good to have a full, productive life. I came out okay - C section not included - but my little baby sister didn't make it, and I have the kind of German parents that like to feel guilty and plunge into depression whenever there's any chance for it. So, they said they'd take the baby body home with them. I

guess the doctor thought they meant for burial. But mom bought a big bottle of alcohol, and I said I had a friend at school whose dad worked for one of those companies that made old-fashioned candy jars like big licorice used to come in, and now the dead part of our family is stuck in the jar, near the back of the den on a wooden shelf over the litter box.

They keep it to remind themselves of their deep failure, my parents. But when you have your own little freak show, it's good for other things too.

First, don't think of it as a person. Even though the eyes are open, and you can see the strangled outline of what might have been a beautiful girl one day, you have to consider your stillborn child as a thing. A prop. That's what she is. If you can do that, and get the awe out of your stare, and don't step closer and closer like some sort of horror movie actor, you'll be just fine. Just think - this is where you keep the stillborn. That's it.

Also, don't forget to bring a towel with you. That Bounty kind you can wring out and use again is the best, because you don't want to use a Real towel, or mom will get mad, and there will be proof of your "evil ways". Anyway, just reach in and grab it by the neck, because even though it's dead flesh, a baby's head is soft and you could squeeze-dent the skull, maybe even leave fingerprints. It's that soft. Pull it out pretty fast because it will smell. Don't forget to let it drip a little. Then wipe the feet. Wipe the arms, and anywhere else the alcohol beads and bubbles up.

Now you're ready to go.

What can you do with a stillborn? That depends on your age, I guess. When you're smaller, it's great for scaring your girlfriends with. They will either hold you tighter or think you're too gross to go with. It will tell you where you stand.

For Halloween, I always like going as a pregnant mother. Once I get the treat, I do the trick by clicking a spring under my breakaway shirt which pops the baby out. One lady had to be taken to the hospital, so if your subject has white hair, please forget it.

If you're a homeless mother, carrying a stillborn is great for extra sympathy and coins. And of course if you have no access to a place to keep it frozen or preserved during after office hours, then milk it as much as you can, because it will decompose. But even when the skull and teeth start to show through pretty bad, you can still tell what is by its general shape. I would suggest you buy yourself a big ice bag every now and then with the extra profits. It will help you out in the long run.

Be careful with pets. Anything that smells like dooky, the dog will immediately go for. Try hanging one of those car air fresheners around the stillborn's neck, and maybe a quick rub with a men's magazine - only if there are a lot of perfume ads I mean. Careful maintenance will really help your stillborn to have a lot more years and life to it.

Dead small children are also good for getting more money from grandma, or grandpa. Be a protective mother or older brother. Don't let the old people hold the baby. And if this will be your main purpose in having the "baby" around, you might want to hollow out its stomach and plant a tape recorder in there with long life batteries. You can always pull it back out when you want to change batteries. Depending on how old your grandparents are, the stillborn could last longer than they will. And always request money instead of baby booties and handmade cribs. Complain about the high cost of feeding your child or your baby brother. These people are your family and will do anything they can for you. I think that's nice.

pg. 113.5
In Excess

Seinfeld is over and we missed it. Nevertheless, this is nothing about nothing. This, in all pretenses of the word is filler. Disregard what you will, if you're bored, maybe you'll enjoy this.

Junk mail
Abortion
Racism
Princess DIe
Wannabe Goth was a poser
SDM almost died and no one cried
When you scream, are you sure someone is listening
We respect most wrestling fans
Goldberg is nobody, but respect is being gained
No one told us we had to be hip
When you have less than five pages, it shows
Relish the absence of space
The new era is coming
When we get back, all hell breaks loose.
Prepare to crumble.
Maybe a new name... you decide.
If you care, drop a line here.
Pain lies on the riverside, we reside on landslides.
Fin

pg. 1
Armchair X: Armchair Suffers
by: The Armchair Critic

There comes a time in every man's life when he is truly amazed to the point beyond belief and that moment hit me when I sat through the 1 hour++++++ (only pluses this film gets) shitfest known as Godzilla. I wasn't amazed at the special effects, because in all honesty, the only thing special about this movie was it existence. Nor was I amazed at the cast, acting, or writing, although I am glad to know that the first generation of "Hooked on Phonics" writers are making their way into the work place. What I am amazed at is the fact that the closest thing to a high point (in geographical terms: Death Valley) for this celluloid anomaly was the Puff Daddy rendition of Led Zeppelin's "Come to me." In all honesty, I was shocked but pleased. Finally the man remade something and didn't customize it into one of his lame ass raps. True, it was still low, but I guess since Jimmy "Show Me the Money" Paige endorsed it by playing guitar, it's not that bad. Although, Puff did sing. Enough of that, let me sign off.