+ doomed to obscurity + issue one + august 6th, 1994 +
s s S. Yb s
.s S. Ys S :
. . Ys : : .
: s 33
+ god made us funky - mc +
+ dto spotlight on - gumby
gumby resident poet - angst! pain! angst!
+-- dto --+
+ undecided
+ submitted by - gumby
undecided
why must it be that i act in two personalities?
one, a well-lived, wise person.
or another, a child with no common sense.
it never makes a decision.
i dont think it can.
i dont think it will.
why must i be one with undecided people living
inside me?
why does it come at the wrong time?
the wrong personality that is.
i wish once that it will make up its mind.
the question is:
which one is my true, rightful person?
i guess i will know when it tells me.
no one cares to find out, except me.
- sam griga 7-18-95
+ dto spotlight on - black francis
black francis head editor, writer, president-type chap - black francis sure
does like ice cream!
+-- dto --+
+ dto, downhome baked goodness, and you!
+ written by - black francis
why anyone would let me, of all people, introduce a new zine is
beyond me, but, here i am. ahh.
greetings salutations, kids. its nice to see you all again.
i sure dont miss writing as much as i thought i did, you know.
mogel gave me this list of things to cover here, so, let me get right
to it
a who are we?
were the doomed to obscurity posse, silly. i would hope you know
that already.
you people never cease to amaze me.
in case you truely are that clueless, i guess it wouldnt hurt to go
over it one more time. first, lets make with the d2o staff.
i guess im a good place to start. im black francis. im a writer.
ive written for a few different zines, drawn for a few art groups
something im really not that proud of, and somewhere along the line, i
managed to run a semi-popular zine dubbed pEz monthly. maybe youve
heard of it.
no.
next up is good ol mogel. in case youve been locked in a closet
for the past few months, youve probably heard his name muttered before.
mogel is also a writer and has written for such prestegious t-file funsters
such as cdc vas. mogel was also the president of a pretty large and
fairly successful t-file group named hoe. hoe managed to to spawn ninety
issues of pure unadulterated zaniness before its unexpected demise early
last month. hes a wacky guy, that mogel.
whatever.
swoon. its eerie. yeah, so, eerie is a doodleboy. big whoop. the
boy can write. i bet you didnt know that, eh? eh? or maybe you did.
while not jumping in and out of big-time ansi groups such as acid or
spastic, eerie has managed to run two extremely successful e-mags. number
uno ace - the music e-mag and number dos undergrown - the ansi scene
related e-mag with some wit and intelligence thrown into the mix which had
quickly become a cult classic before its premature death after only ten
issues. eerie also has a really funny french accent. tee hee!
make me an ansi.
last but certainly not least is our little fuzzy pal, murmur. um.
well, umm, he was the vice president of my zine, and, umm, he wrote for
bah a few times. i guess thats it.
he likes donuts.
what a lame ass.
b why are we here?
who the hell knows?
screw you.
c what is dto all about?
well, in a nutshell, doomed to obscurity is a zine of the poeople.
yeah. or something like that. whatever.
doomed to obscurity is a zine that will basically publish anything
humorous, educational, though-provoking, informative, or anything even
slightly entertaining. as long as its not poetry, its all good.
doomed to obscurity is an independant publication that relys on
submissions from people like you. if theres something you want to say
and get off your chest or whatever - youve certainly come to the right
place. wether it be a short story you have written or an all out rant,
were interested in publishing it. if youre interested in submitting or
writing on a regular basis - check out the dto info file for more
extra-tasty-crispy-valueable information file for details.
we also hope to pick up a few chicks along the way.
d how did this whole elite deal come about?
well, its a real long story, but ill try to make it a big ass
run-on sentence just because i think i love you.
mogel ran hoe i ran pez james hetfield runs std and he formerly ran
milk and milk tea then i killed pez and mogel killed hoe and james
hetfield killed std and mogel asked james hetfield and i if we wanted to
start a zine together and we all agreed and we couldnt decide on a name so
jamesy quit and started his own zine nihilism monthly and then eerie wanted
to join and so we hooked up with him and then we made murmur a president as
well so we could basically round it off to four guys and here we are now.
e what are your goals for this zine?
two words - geraldo!
oh shit. thats only one word.
+-- dto --+
well, woo hoo. that was a barrel of monkeys. i guess were all
finished, then. got any more questions? tough shit. i really dont care.
anywho, its been a blast. you kids enjoy yourselves.
doomed to obscurity one and all contents therein ..
1 - undecided
by - gumby
2 - dto, downhome baked goodness, and you!
by - black francis
3 - doomed to obscurity one and all contents therein ..
by - black francis
4 - a zine carol
by - james hetfield
5 - guns for goths
by - mogel
6 - how to become a conservative nut for love and money!
by - shadow tao
7 - i wanna be a king, baby!
by - mogel
8 - phearnet vs. killer wombat
by - mogel
9 - the question of representive democracy
by - murmur
10 - piss them off
by - eerie
11 - the working class
by - eightball
12 - where have all my children gone? a reflection in six movements.
by - murmur
13 - ozzy, youre the man.
by - fake scorpion
14 - lavender - condiments chapter 417.
by - murmur
15 - blind love.
by - gumby
+ dto spotlight on - james hetfield
james hetfield writer - james hetfield is so elite, hes sneaky pete. his
garfield figure and his yellow eyes keep the women far, far away.
very few can say they have the charisma that james hetfield has,
mainly because those that do tend to be small insects. in the near
future, james hetfield will be rapidly changing the meet the growing
demands of a changing global environment. meanwhile, he will be
watching reruns of rerun on whats happenin now? and eating lots
of skittles. skittles has fur! - official fod tm rumor
+-- dto --+
+ a zine carol
+ submitted by - james hetfield
ive always hated this time of year. all the people going off to
college. everyone all sad and stuff about leaving their friends behind.
bah. humbug. i dont have any friends to leave behind.
this is also the time of year that the most zines die and the
most writers stop writing. well, good for them. leaves less competition.
im tired of hearing people whine and moan about the scene. maybe theyll
all leave.
unfortunately, soon will be the time that the most new kids get
into the scene. they never have any writing talent. humbug. i hate them
all.
+-- dto --+
i woke up that night to a chill running down my spine. i looked
up, and above me was some type of apparition! i jumped out of bed, trying
to get away from it, but it followed me where ever i went.
hetfield... james hetfield... it moaned in its breathy voice.
what? what do you want with me?? i yelled in fear. it held
its ground.
i am the ghost of guido sanchez.. it shrieked.
guido? is that you?! i thought you were... well, you are...
i am trapped on this planet to walk the streets every night
because of my crimes to the scene...
your crimes to the scene? but guido, you were one of the best
writers...
save yourself, while you can! tonight you will be visited by
three ghosts. each will show you a different time. heed their words,
hetfield, for they are your only salvation... otherwise you will end up
like me... mee... meee... he howled as he exited the room.
+-- dto --+
i must have fallen asleep for a while, because when i woke up
my alarm clock was blaring. i didnt remember setting it. the time was
12am. midnight.
i felt a light breeze pass me. i looked up, and there was a man
dressed in white robes. he had long, black hair, with a streak of purple
in it.
epic? is that you? i asked him.
it is i, the ghost of zines past. i used to be one of your
favorite writers, james hetfield...
you certainly were! those articles about sea monkies were
great! i said as i smiled.
alas, james hetfield... i am here to show you the days of zines
past... take my hand....
+-- dto --+
whats this? blah headquarters???
yes, james hetfield, blah itself..
wow! ive never seen this before!!!
guido sanchez was sitting at his computer, typing away. he was
drawing out an ascii portrait of bob dobbs, with the title on it why
we all exist. chessman was at another computer writing a clockwork
banana.
this was your beginnings, james hetfield.. trying desperately
to get into blah, and failing miserably...
dont i know it. i was such a bad writer then... my stories were
silly, but really bad...
they might have been bad, james hetfield, but you had fun writing
them, did you not?
well, yes...but...
and do you have fun writing anymore, james hetfield?
well...
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
i totally forgot about this! this is a chi-chis in chicago!
look, there i am, sitting next to guido and connie and the melter, a guy
that wrote for za//!
yes, james hetfield, those were good times, were they not?
you bet... and there connie is, getting yelled at by mall
rent-a-cops!
a topic for a later blah file, wasnt it?
yeah, it was... hey! theres nyarlathotep!
one of the writers that wrote the most for your zines, am
i correct, james hetfield?
yeah...wow. the memories.
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
hooey! look! theres me at my computer, typing out blah-die.txt!
yes, the file that was never issued, but somehow got to every
blah distro sight, right james hetfield?
yeah.. it was an exact copy of the death of superman, word for
word... that was great...
take my hand, james hetfield...
+-- dto --+
james hetfield, this will be your last trip in zines past.
do you recognize this?
yeah! this is my house! im looking through all the milk
files on my computer... some were horrible, but some were great... god,
those days were so wonderful... everything was happy and bright... epic,
dont make me go back, i just want to stay here forever...
we must go back, james hetfield. take my hand...
+-- dto --+
i found myself in my bed. i tried to doze off for a while, but
soon i heard a voice above me.
james hetfield... james hetfield...
what? huh? who are you?
i am gumby, the ghost of zines present. you must come with
me and envision my visions.
uhm.. ok.
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh. hee. yuck. this is where i wrote all my std files. they
were so pointless. some of them were good writing, but the idea of just
starting the group out of thin air was really stupid of me. hardly anyone
wrote for it.
yes, james hetfield, that is because the sun is like the moon.
what?
nevermind. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
hahaha! theres mogel finishing up hoe495! that was one of the
greatest packs a zine could ever have!
yes, james hetfield, and what happened next?
oh. well mogel got sick of hoe and wanted me to run it, then
he killed it soon afterwards.
yes. you are correct james hetfield. take my hand.
+-- dto --+
thats black francis... writing his gumpy epilogue to pez025...
that was such a great zine too... all the best zines are just dying out...
im out of the scene, black francis is out of the scene, mogel seems to be
out of the scene...
light is the opposite of darkness, james hetfield.
yes... so?
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh heh. these were the hoe vs. gasp fights on the network. they
were pretty funny, but really stupid too.
yes they were, james hetfield. where is gasp now?
its dead...
and where is hoe now, james hetfield?
its dead... why are you making me do this? bring me back, i
want no more part of this.. i cant take it any longer!
you have to see it all. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh no. bring me back now, gumby. bring me back. i cant take
any more of this.
no. what do you see, james hetfield?
its guido... hes fucking his girlfriend... and hacking a unix
board at the same time... whatever happened to his creativity? why did he
decide to leave the scene? look whats happened to him now... he just hax
and fux... gumby, let me leave already, ive seen enough...
very well. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
my alarm clock woke me up again. the time was 2am.
wake up, james hetfield, weve got work to do.
who... what? pip? is that you?
yes it is, james hetfield. i am the ghost of zines future. i was
such a bad writer in my day, that they made me see the future of writing to
see what i should have been doing. this is my punishment. now its time to
see yours. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
aghghghg! whats that?
thats mogel, james hetfield.
but...but... hes so fat!
when he decided to let hoe die, his life went to pot. he now sits
around and eats bon-bons and doritos all day and watches soap operas.
oh god.. mogel? what have you done to yourself?!?!
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh... no... who is that?
thats black francis.
no... no.. whats...whats...
a homeless woman lived by him, that used to take baths in the river
by his house. after black francis gave up on pez, he had way too much free
time. hes spend his days by that river, throwing rocks at her all day
long. so one day she bought a gun and shot him in the head six times, and
threw him in the river with her. he was never found. this is his rotting
body after 6 months.
take me away, pip, take me away please... i cannot see any more...
we have one vision left to see, james hetfield.
i cant handle it! please dont make me!
you have to see it, james hetfield, take my hand.
no! i wont do it! ... these are pictures of the future, right? i
can change these visions, right? this wont necessarily be my fate, will it
pip?
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
noooooo. nooooooo!!!! ahhhhhhhh!
yes, james hetfield. its you. its you working in an executive
office somewhere in chicago. you make 7.50 an hour and work 60 hours a
week to support your wife and two children. you have no creativity left
inside of you. your a pawn of the establishment, james hetfield.
god... pip.. i can change, right? this is only the future that
is set right now, correct? i can change my outcome, cant i???
you have seen enough, james hetfield. take my hand.
i can change, pip, i can change!!!!!
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
my alarm clock went off. it was 6am. i went directly to my computer
and wrote 5 straight wacky files. they werent that good, but they kept me
happy. i can change. i will change.
i called up m0g and frannie that day, and i pain-stakingly somehow
convinced them to form a new group. and this group will keep us from what
we are destined to have our fate be. we will change the future.
+ guns for goths
+ submitted by - mogel
from: vampyr@bu.edu eamon daly
newsgroups: alt.drugs,alt.stupidity,talk.bizarre,alt.pud, alt.party,
alt.fan.biff,alt.drunken.bastards
subject: re: anyone else gothic out there?
date: 31 jul 1995 18:56:03 gmt
organization: boston university
lines: 38
1 glock 19
1 finger
1 sense of direction
1 bullet
inhale here
pull this
back ----- 8888o.o.o.o.ooooooo0000oooooooooooooooooooo88o
88:8:8:8:8:8888888000088888888888888888888888: --
88:8:8:8:8:888888888888888888888888888888888888:
y88:8:8:8:8:8888888888888888888ooooooooooooooop
8oooooooooooooooooooo
bullets .88888888888.::: 8
go in here 88888888888yo * 8 *pull this thingy here.
.88888888888 oooooooood8o - this way -
---- 88888888888
.88888888888
88888888888
.88888888888
98888888888
yy888p -- release clip here
point bullet - this way -
- release the long rectangular thing inside the handle clip.
- put one 1 bullet in clip.
- stick the clip back into the handle.
- pull back on the handle until it clicks, then let go.
- put knobby thing into your mouth.
- breathe in.
- pull the pointy thing that sticks down see *.
enjoy!
+ dto spotlight on - shadow tao
shadow tao writer - even while living in the presence of his loving
conservative parents, tao has become a true factor in the politics of
the world. while many people look to him as one of the true
spiritual guides of the planet, he actually has nothing more than a
high school diploma. this student/guru spends his time typing out
odd stories and weird tales to amuse himself and others. shadow tao
is quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with, as illinois has
quickly fallen under his message the internet does not have *chat
rooms*, that is america online, you morons... he is attending the
prestigious illinois wesleyan university also attended by the
more-than-notable murmur and is a computer science major. he is
hoping to take a minor role within the up-and-coming mogel-world.
+-- dto --+
+ how to become a conservative nut for love and money!@!@
+ propaganda by - shadow tao
has your social life lost its greater meaning? do you sit at home
and wonder what you *could* be doing to help america? join the conservative
religious right! were the majority, no matter how many people object!
when you join us:
1. youll be assimilated into the group! right in the comfort and
convenience of your own home!
2. you wont have to think anymore! just repeat what everyone else says!
3. youll have a reason to distrust officials and lie on your taxes, cause
youll be persecuted by the government! even though we control the
senate and house, the government is operated by the bureaucratic satanist
liberals, dont you know?
4. youll get a nifty hat!
5. you can make neat-o conspiracies! more to come
6. your party is the party of god! yes, the holy father is a republican!
says so in the bible
7. shitloads of monkeys! rhesus! baboon! gibbon! we got em all!
8. the opportunity to oppress peoples here and abroad all in the name of
the american way.
9. weve got all the cash!
10. monkeys! dont forget the monkeys! big nosed, hairy boobed,
pink-intestine-covered-buttocks monkeys!
join now and youll be able to afford the new tax jockeying. you
belong to us! remember: even if you dont join, in a few years, well own
your property anyway. and then, well rent it to you at three times the
going rate!
how? you ask? its a four step process!
1. we get a cause. we find something that really challenges the fundamental
principals of the constitution. like free thought and people who
disagree. or having to treat aliens like human beings and not being
able to call foreigners spickywopkrautchinkn
2. we beat the hell out of it. fax your congressman 10 to 10,000 times a
day! make sure to do it at night so that he cant open his door in the
morning. btw: if you do elect a woman, make sure its a good lookin
one, cuz we dont want ugly fat chicks in congress!
3. we find a conspiracy. the world is full of these beauties. just pick
one and run with it. be sure to be current, though. example: when the
whole davidian deal started, an appropriate party comment would be:
a. i think we should try to figure out what they actually believe.
b. bomb the fuckers. commies from hell. guy thinks hes jesus, fer
crissakes!
c. maybe having tanks there is making this worse.
d. connie chung! aww yeah, ill hoist her anchor, baby!
wink, wink, nudge, nudge
answer: b. well, d is good. yeah, d!@
one year after the davidian assault, the party comment would be:
a. our alien overlords came down to dictate to our puppet government
what to do.
b. it was all a big mistake.
c. my ferrari is in the shop. sigh
d. vince foster actually led the raid, and hillary shot him in cold
blood to prevent his damning testimony.
answer: c. but there were a lot that answered d and a!
4. we sell it, sell it, sell it! pieces of david koreshs skull! pictures
of the u.n. invasion force! do-it-yourself militia kit! guns! bombs!
hatred! pro-life! christianity! we have it all! remember, were not
hypocrites, were an oppressed group that is crucified by the liberal
media!
join us for the money we have all the cash.
join us for the love we have all the monkeys.
join now!
+ dto spotlight on - mogel
mogel co-editor, president type - born under poor conditions, the
mysterious figure known as mogel has set forth upon an intricate
and fool-proof plan to climb the social and economic ladders of
america, only to eventually dominate the world. according to him,
this mogel-world will become a reality in our lifetimes. well,
that is if the government doesnt stop me. currently, mogel writes
contrived fiction and message-encoded essays on everything known to
man. yes, even turnips. mogels last ezine project was the
illustrious zine hoe, an anthology of the life and times of each and
every member of congress. mogel refuses to comment on any of the
rumors about his past affiliations with any sort of hacker community
and any of his run-ins with the law. all we know for certain about
this mogel is that he is a philadelphia native attending some college
in new york as a film major, and that he is very, very dangerous.
+-- dto --+
+ i wanna be a king, baby!
+ submitted by - mogel
plop!
i rolled off my bed and onto the floor. thump went my body. my eyes
blinked open.
three ayyy emmm blinks the bright red numbers on my annoying clock.
it was a pretty crappy clock. then again, i was never one to care much
about clocks. after all, it did what i needed it told the time in bright
digital numbers, and it had that always-important eleven-minute snooze
button that was my friend and deadliest enemy at the same time. i had
dueled with that clock many a morning! realizing that i had actually
dedicated this much thought to a damn clock would normally bother me, but
thats okay right now cause im here now at three in the morning lying on
my floor and i dont have anything better to do but have my goofy mind
wander.
yep, i do have a goofy mind. my emotions do that big stupid yo-yo
bouncy-bounce action every few hours and i can hate myself and love myself
in the same sitting. i think too much. i over kill. i obsess. i dont do
my laundry. i guess its just my personality. i like to think about things
that arent actually important to my every-day life. im a self-destruction
souflee, babycakes! my life is falling to pieces, but hey! i found the
coolest pocket lint! the irony moves on and on with me because i know
that ive got all kinds of important ideas to spew than so many other morons
out there that actually do have the chance to be heard, but say nothing of
any value. and here i am doing nothing, wasting away my life in a computer
obsession. sometimes i feel like ive lost everything.
and i look at me, im 19 years old, and im here. theres people
that go to insert excellent academic college here and think and learn
these wonderful thoughts and ideas and they never actually use them,
except to write papers for their class. what a wonderful world we live in
that the only reason we learn something is to do well in that class. not
so, you say? ah, it happens all the time. we live in a bullshit world
where its implicitly become the national expectation to become a doctor or
lawyer. doctors who can charge whatever they want. lawyers we actually
encourage people to become assholes.
hey! a congested justice system in this country is fun! let me sue
you cause you looked at me funny.
who can solve my problems?
someone bigger than me!
who can i blame?
someone else!
woo-woo! what a fun game! its easy, baby! play along!
in todays world we have 50 of kids going into the hopeful state
that they too can become part of the wacky field of entertainment, cause
they know that many entertainers today can make a fortune with virtually no
talent. amazing, you say? it happens all the time.
gettin sick of this train of thought, i pull my tired self up off
the floor and go to my bathroom to pee. its funny that i can get up like
this. it seems like i have such a natural love for sleep. maybe its just
an escape. i never bothered to analyze it really, which amazes me, cause i
usually make myself puke with over-analysis.
random thoughts are fun. its a morning thing.
im such a rebel cause im the most normal person alive.
dont get me wrong, its not like im a complete dimwit. sure ive
basically amounted to nothing in my life, but you must remember that most
people have, so its okay! im more hip than those gen-x punks. ive got
so much slack they cant even fuckin conceive of it. whee! yeah, it is
pretty immature to compare your patheticness to other people just to feel
better, but i mean im not all that immature. i dont play with my
transformers anymore. ive passed my comic book phase. i dont even
understand what the hell the appeal is with the power rangers. but wait!
im not an adult! adults suck! they limit themselves! you cant trust
them! theyre not fun anymore!
yeah! im so hip it hurts.
hey! what if theres a naked girl in the bathroom waiting for me?!
i turn on the light. damn. no naked girl. but i do get a chance to
see the cockroaches scatter. oh boy!
it feels like i havent slept in days.
hypothesis: im a worthless moron, i mumble. why am i a worthless
moron? i actually stop myself for a moment to ask. i proceed to step on a
cockroach and react quite disgusted.
because, i start i can rationalize the right thing to do forever
in an infinite number of ways, but i never seem to gather up the motivation
to run out and do whats important.
of course, there is that morning hyperbole thing.
having peed a full 2 minutes and turning the toilet water a very dark
amber, i flush. you didnt want to know that, you say? good. that makes
two of us. sometimes all i know is that i know nothing. hey. someone
famous said that.
fuck plato, i mutter to myself and head back to my room. i get
back on my bed and i realize that i cant sleep. damnit. i can always
sleep. what the hell is my friggin problem?! what do i want? something
was definitely on my mind. then it hit me how bad my lack of motivation for
everything really was. did i care about anything anymore? im just a big
stupid sack o flesh that means nothing. okay, okay. enough of this
thought. what the hell do i want this *minute*? money? not really. love?
maybe. sex? couldnt hurt. fame? oh yeah! thats it!
ten-thousand screaming girls clutching themselves at my feet. it
would be an honor just to fuckin see my face. i want every guy to phear me
and every girl to want me i want one very special girl to *love* me. but
then again, who doesnt want this? and im sittin here realizing that
typing these characters on this screen do nothing to accomplish that, and i
continue writing this sentence and its gettin pounded deeper into my mind
that im just venting. what am i accomplishing here? is this just a
pathetic psychological babble to get rid of a little stress. did anyone
care? did anyone relate? what the hell am i doing here? shouldnt i be
outside making good conversation with my friends? the days of my life pass
so quickly i cant even stop for a minute and enjoy anything. wait. that
sounded familiar.
fuck socrates, i say in a fit.
im gettin all giddy. im gettin into a spaz. im starting to get
rootin tootin mad cause im sitting here in the middle of the night
staring at the friggin ceiling and im bored. im bored senseless.
dont hate me cause i am just so k-rad.
you should never fear death, someone said to me. i dont! i
dont! youve gotta be special. youve gotta do somethin. youve gotta
be somethin. hut! hut! make that mark, boy! without struggle there is
no progress! dont forget it!
fuck douglas! i say. im boppin in a tissy now.
i remember hearing about a guy that was so crazy that he loved to
have problems. the man was so damn happy, that he was getting bored and
looked forward to problems just to break the monotony of his life. maybe
happiness boredom. they say the smarter you get the more depressed you
get. well, im fuckin einstein, baby! feel my brain! rub it! caress it!
make it part of you! youll dream of having the sexy funk-brain that i
got when i was born!
love me.
that mogel is so full of shit! die!
its pretty ironic that someone like me has never found love. i
beg for it, but i never find it. ive never really connected to any girl
ive ever gone out with. ive never truly loved anyone, and yet i love
everyone in the world. isnt this sick?
im gettin pretty pissy now, so i snap and punch myself hard in the
left eye. ouch! ive got a black eye now. itll go away, i mutter to
myself. ive got problems. maybe i can fix them like that man. yeah! i
can fix my problems up real good!
i jump up and run out of my room in a fury. i leap down the stairs,
four-at-a-time, and i run outside, making sure to nab my quick-bag of
assorted rad snacks. its all quiet outside, and i wanna stop to enjoy it,
but no-way-jose cause i got stuff to do. i bop over to my backyard and
climb up my ladder. it would be neat to have a flash light, but im too hip
or that sorta of thing, and im in a rush to get up. a small collection of
ding-dongs accidentally flop out of my back, but theres no turning back,
baby!
im crazy! im wacky! im zany! im nuts-o!
i get up to the roof and im lookin over the edge and its amazing.
heres my house. heres my neighborhood. heres my city. heres my life.
fuck you!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!!@@!@!!1 i scream out to the
world at the top of my lung and im lovin every minute of it. a light
turns on and someone pokes their head out their window and craftfully says
to me shut up!
fuck you! i say to them. i peg a twinkie and score a direct hit
on the guys bald, yuppie head.
die! i say, you fuckin suck!
the guy retreats with a puzzled look on his face and he goes back to
sleep. he is instilled with phear! my anarkee is complete!
fuck you!@@!@@! i repeat again.
no response. bliss. i pompously devour a box of sunnydoodles. i am
at peace. i am finally free.
+ phearnet vs. killer wombat
+ submitted by - mogel
date: 7:53 pm thu jul 27, 1995 number : 48 of 48
from: killer wombat 173:703/1 base : private mail
to : rattle 173:173/0 refer : none
subj: im using jhs aka to piss you o replies: none
stat: private netmail origin : 27 jul 95 19:32:28
you know, when i got the phearnet application pack and saw
phearnet, the most exciting thing since soup
-m0g
i thought that this net might have some potential entertainment value, that
the people who run it have a sense of humor. but having been in phearnet, i
realize that you people are some of the most anal, dickfaced elitist
bastards in the computer world.
you people should lighten up and learn to joke around a little. i can
have intelligent conversation in my history class at school. why should i
spend my message writing time making sure everything is perfect and the
message is intelligent? why should i spend my time deleting mail left by
users who spent their message writing time leaving those messages. nobodys
perfect, asshole.
i hope you and your rich little pals have a good time writing intelligent
messages to each other like a bunch of harvard geeks. without bottled
violence. ill be out with friends laughing at cripples, winos, and
especially geeks like you and the people on your net. having a good time.
maybe ill even publish a zine. a real zine, none of this retarded
e-zine shit. a zine that interests people whose hobbies dont include
sitting on the computer all day and arguing about what is a lame post.
fuck you.
+ the question of representative democracy
+ submitted by - murmur
im not going to amble on endlessly about this i just want to get a
couple ideas out, and let people think about them.
what is the purpose of a representative democracy, in a simple sense?
even simpler, what is the purpose of the representative? basically, he/she
represents his/her constituents by functioning at a higher level to get
things done for those constituents. a plurality of votes, in most cases, is
what elects a representative to his/her office.
without going into mindless detail, an interesting question that has
recently been posed once again stands out: should the representative vote
in such a way that it falls in line with the constituents wishes? a
majority of the constituents wishes? what if the representative disagrees?
what if the people are simply completely wrong?
this comes up now because of the renewed bosnian question. people
dont want to send in american forces so far as im concerned, we have no
other option at this point. , but im not going to debate that. the thing
is: no matter what, the two options are send in troops or dont. no
halfways anymore. and heres the thing: presented with a troops yes,
troops no question, people will say no. so what should our president, our
congress do?
for arguments sake im going to say the right thing to do is send
troops in this is being used as an argument and im not preaching about
bosnia.
the question becomes one of priorities: do the wishes of the people
outweigh the concept of doing whats right? if the people vote to do things
the wrong way, should the government do the right thing anyways, because
its right?
i dont want to get too in depth, but think about that: would you
rather your president did the right thing or what the majority of the
population wanted? which is constitutional? whats the correct recourse?
i say right overrules majority. thats me. what about you? this is
an important question, especially when it comes time to vote, which many of
us already legally do and many more of us soon will. do you want a
man/woman that will abide by the peoples wishes above all else, or that
will do whats right above all else, in such a situation?
just food for thought.
+ dto spotlight on - eerie
eerie president-type, writer - eerie lives somewhere up there in canada. we
dont know where exactly. actually it seems like he doesnt even know
where he lives. all we know is that he is under high observation at
some asylum. his favorite sentence is the best way to get rid of
suicidal tendencies is to blow your head out. he spends his days
wishing he was thurston moore, which is kind of pathetic. the two
things he does best are: saying hey! dont fuck with my nigguh
okay? with an american accent and breaking guitar strings. his main
project for the future is to become an alternative rock star, marry a
pseudo punkette and get rid of his suicidal tendencies.
+ piss them off
+ submitted by - eerie
okay, this is kind of a little guide about how to get parents and
other stuck-up people to be pissed off at you. follow it and be glad i
wrote it, cuz who would have been loser enough to write this?!
a the basics. of course, the first things to do are pretty
simple, youve prolly done them all already, which is e-wheat. first: you
need to get a funky haircut. grow your hair long, dye it green or just
shave it off, but do something. second: get some tees. violent tees, if
possible. with alot of blood on them. and skulls, maybe. a legalize it
tee is always a must too. dont wash your jeans. dont wash yourself at
all. okay, now you look dirty. well, no, actually you dont, but stuck-up
conservative piece of shit lamer people will think that you are dirty.
there, you pissed them off. congratulations, but keep on. three: music.
play it loud. dont listen to any easy-listening stuff. if possible, and
even if you dont like it at all, listen to death metal stuff. or white
zombie, cf ftg2 or 3, i dont remember but that was a nifty artikul play
it even louder. if you have an electric guitar, play it loud too. play
the guitar and the death metal tapes all at the same time. buy a drum and
play it the loudest.
b religion. be an atheist. better even, be a buddhist or a
muslim. follow the cult religiously. you need it. i mean, you can have
your hair dyed green, sometimes it just wont do it. you need something
more shocking: religion. well, actually, you can even fake it. its not
like anyone cares. just try to look really really really involved. if its
not even enough, then just join a sect.. be a jehovah witness. knock at
your parents door every morning at 5am to tell them about how to be saved.
c sex. even if you dont, say that you have alot of it.
publicly. support free distribution of condoms in schools. support
condom-free sexual intercourses. support homosexuality, incest, necrophilia
and bestiality. better even, be one of those. have your little sister tell
your mom you had sex with her and she liked it. say that cemetaries are the
most erotic places you know. kiss your dog on the mouth for at least a
minute while your parents are looking. funkier even, be a homosexual. if
you are a guy, well everytime you go out say that you went at pauls, or
whoever the name, make sure its a guy name, always the same. sleep over at
his house. after a month or two, break up and act depressed. your
parents will go bezerk. you dont even need to actually fuck with the guy.
just fake it. well if you want to, go for it. it will only be more
realistic.
d opinions. support everything they dont support, and vice
versa. this is rather simple. explain people that you believe in violent
anarchy. tell them that the schools should teach children how to build
bombs. now you pissed them off. what was the point? there was none. it
was just fun. i mean, why be nice with stuck-up people? id rather be
hypocritical a bit so it gives me a good laugh when i see how they react.
its only a big game, but youre the only one who gnoze.
make good use of this e-wheat information. take care.
+ dto spotlight on - eightball
eightball writer - this is the first zine in which any of 8balls work has
been/will be released. however, eightball is far from a newbie.
this modem warrior has been at the fringes of the scene for roughly
six or seven years. he has been writing stories and poems damn
better than gasp, although thats not notably a difficult feat
since he was old enough to write. he currently resides in a suburb
of philadelphia, pa, where he continues to work on fresh ideas for
dto.
+-- dto --+
+ the working class
+ submitted by - eightball
welcome to ihop. my name is insert stupid generic name here, and
ill be your server today.
the words pounding in my head. the boy, no older than 16, wipes the
droplets of sweat from his forehead as he scribbles down yet another order.
this mere child, not yet old enough to vote for the legislators that decide
the fate of his well-being, has been pressed into a life of servitude.
gazing around the restaurant, he sighs in relief on noticing that his
manager is not present. one little slip-up could mean termination.
i observe his movements for a while. he moves with determination
with pride. why is he here today, taking orders from white trash scum? why
does he remain within these walls, giving his all for pennies and dimes? i
ponder the answers to these questions while munching imitation scrambled
eggs, powder-mixed pancakes, and the innards of animals who eat their own
feces.
this boy is a member of the working class. he works 12 hour shifts
of back-breaking labor for four dollars an hour? but just think of how
proud his parents must be of their growing son, earning his keep at a local
eatery.
international house of pancakes: where a raise is the height you fly
to when they kick you in the ass where job security means your father is
the general manager where meals are free for employees, but you have to pay
to make a phone call home.
his smile fading slowly as he takes yet another order, the boy
ignores the sneers and jeers of his friends hanging out across the street.
why cant *i* be out there? he questions the air.
smile! youre working at ihop! the boy turns around quickly, to
see his shift manager writing him up again.
sorry, sir. i enjoy working here. i really do!
then haul your ass away from the window! you have three tables
waiting for their orders to be taken!
yes, sir.
muttering to no one in particular, he trudges along slowly, like a
puppy after its daily beating from a poor master.
welcome to ihop. my name is generic name, and i will be your
server for today. may i take your order, sir?
the man to whom the questions are directed looks up, as if noticing
for the first time that hes in a restaurant. yes, uhh... ill have the
rooty tooty fresh n fruity combo, with a side of scrapple, and a large
mountain dew. dear?
the mans companion, a striking woman in her forties, responds
softly, with one of those accents you just cant place, ill have a large
salad and.... a small orange juice.
the boy waits for a minute, and says will that be all?
no, no.. a kiddie platter of eggs and bacon for each of the
children, answers the woman.
the boy looks around him confused. maam, children? they have no
children!
yes... over-easy for frank, scrambled for little jessa.
yes, maam. the bewildered waiter enters the list into the
computer data-base at the rail. man, the boy thinks to himself, i need
to stop staying up so late. im starting to see things.
+-- dto --+
who am i, you may be wondering? im a service assistant, doomed to
the same shit-hours and shit-pay as the waiter aforementioned. and yes, i
too work at ihop. i make 5.50 an hour, plus tips, and im the highest paid
service assistant in the whole place? thats right. i bus tables, wash
dishes, assist the cooks, clean the bathrooms, mop and vacuum the floors,
and the list goes on and on. why? because i, too, strive for the american
dream. whats the american dream? come on, now! m-o-n-e-y. i degrade
myself 72 hours a week to bring home a 300 paycheck every week.
and i, like every other teenager in this society, ends up spending
the whole damn thing every weekend. oh, but theres so much out there to
buy... some new clothes? sure! drugs? why the fuck not? im already
fucked up enough as it is. thats why i dont watch t.v. id go into
debt... t.v. is one big commercial. they want the hard-working members of
the lower middle class to spend their hard-earned cash on this product and
that.
it all comes down to this: everyone wants money. why do we need
money so badly? because money is power. you have the power to buy a new
shirt - now you can laugh at the people who cant afford to. power!@!@ use
it to go see a movie? well, youre one up on the loser who cant afford to
take his girlfriend anywhere... youre out every fucking night! power!!!
we, the working class, just keep getting sucked in farther and
farther. your father has a lease to pay every month for that brand new
lexus dont forget - i live on the main line of the philly area!, so he
cant afford to buy food. your mom needs a new dress, so you have to buy
your own school supplies. because - we work! and since we work, our
parents figure we have nothing important to want to spend our money on, so
we might as well buy stupid things. a car? haha, youre only 16. a
down payment on a house? but you have 4 years of college before that?
speaking of college... now what would your parents say if you wanted
to, say, drop out of high school, get your ged, and start writing freelance
for a local paper? theyd say this: but you need an education for any job
out there. you need to get a job where you can make money.
but what if i think i can do it without going to college?
no son/daughter of mine is going to be a drop-out junkie!
so... they want whats best for you, huh? they think, were poor,
and money means happiness, so thats the best thing for our child. well let
me tell you something dad, money may be power in this society, but neither
money nor power mean happiness... because what does someone want when they
have *some* power? they want more. am i the only one who sees this as a
never-ending cycle, where happiness just isnt to be seen? if i want to
spend my life in a cardboard box in the middle of china town, composing pad
poetry and drawing stupid cartoons to support my drug problem, who cares??
if im happy, truly happy, then what do i need large sums of money for?
if you get one thing out of this file, i hope its that you should do
whatever you want. do what will make you happy. dont live your life to
make others happy. just make sure to remember this: live for you.
+ dto spotlight on - murmur
murmur another president guy, writer - starting off a mere twenty months
ago on peedee boards, this intimidating individual is happy as a clam
to be at the center of the great new text file revolution. he likes
his radishes with potato chips, and is still recovering from an
injury sustained at dummercon from tlorah. murmurs writings often
consist of seemingly random essays and stories, but we are told
that if you look hard enough, youll see the blueprints for
mankind! murmur awaits the one mystical day when he will be
kidnapped and molested by an underground team of alternateen girls
that upon saying yes! we found meaning in it!@ he will be in
final ectasy.
+-- dto --+
+ where have all my children gone? a reflection in six movements
+ submitted by - murmur
alright, you little pantywaists. its time to take a reflective
look in the mirror. to accomplish this, well use six distinct movements.
1 -- put your left foot in. now, do you see a problem? you should. you
should notice your left foot, jammed up against the mirror. what?
youre not using a full wall mirror? youre an idiot. you already
fail.
2 -- check your tonsils for phlegmy oozy yuck. is there white crud on
your tonsils? it sucks, doesnt it?
3 -- turn around, and gaze as best you can over your right shoulder. is
your ass too large? if so, diet, you damn wildebeest.
4 -- jam your nose close enough to the mirror to see nose hairs. now,
thats marvy. can you *see* them little snotties on your nose hairs?
can you? sure you can! youre a better person for it!
5 -- make many funny faces. if youre frightened by yourself, go sell
yourself, fast man, to the highest clown.
6 -- stand tall. if you bump your head on the ceiling, sell me your
volkswagen!
now that youve taken a reflective look at yourself in six movements,
lets see what weve determined. are you demented? do you eat your pinto
beans by themselves, or smothered in potatoes to alleviate the awful taste?
do you even know what a pinto bean looks like? how about a 78 ford pinto?
ever been in one thats exploded? how about a gremlin? those gremlins
were uglier than satan, but still got you from new york to shabbona.
its nice to see that with just a little coercion anyone can feel a
whole lot better. dont you feel better? i feel so much better im going
to eat your children, and youll be left asking, where have all my
children gone? and ill say to my belly, where they belong, the dirty
little whores.
+ dto spotlight on - fake scorpion
fake scorpion writer - otherwise known as the man of many handles this
man changes aliases like underwear. no one really knows much about
this writer, hes been seen leaving his room only to eat and use the
bathroom. we have concrete proof that he is a recovering angst
junkie who once started his own zine, ftg. he burned out after the
third issue and called it quits. he often mentions how unsatisfied
he is living in the town of smithfield, nc. some call him disturbed,
but we should call him god.
+-- dto --+
+ ozzy, youre the man
+ submitted by - fake scorpion
+ real world scenario border begins
him - so what music do you like?
me - ill name a few musicians pavement, beck,
nirvana, frank black, shellac, dinosaur jr,
green day, etc.
him - you fucking poseur!!!
+ real world scenario border ends
im being honest, shit like that actually happens to me. ive
compiled ten of the biggest trends of today for your brain to soak up.
thank me later, when all your friends hail you as god.
1. call everyone who isnt a clone of yourself a poseur, prep,
redneck, or loser. its similar to stereotyping, but even
worse. example: look at his clothes, hes wearing shorts!
fucking prep!
2. pull your underwear up into your ass so the stripe at the top
is a little above your shorts/pants. fuck the wedgie you get,
its all for style!
3. wear the kurt cobain 1942-1994 t-shirts. boohoo, the
spokesman of our generation died. lets wear his t-shirt,
because exploiting dead people is a trendy thing to do.
4. have your wallet attached to your pants by a long as shit
dog-chain. make sure you dont trip over the chain, because
if you do, youre not cool.
5. when people ask you what type of music you like, tell them indie
rock. then tell them how cool your new bush cd is.
6. if someone asks you what your favorite tv show is, tell them
its friends. nobody actually likes that show, its just
been marketed as a trendy show, so you gotta tell everyone
you love it.
7. smoke a lot of pot, because pot is pretty trendy. if you tell
everyone that you hallucinated while you were high, theyll
think youre a god.
8. write a lot of angst poetry. make all your friends read it.
theyll crown you as the next messiah.
9. bitch about your favorite bands becoming popular. lie and tell
everyone that you were listening to them in their garage days.
no one will ever know you first saw them on mtv alternative
nation.
10. tell everyone that im your best friend, because i am the god
of being trendy.
there you go. impress your friends, become the high school stud.
its the cool thing to do.
+ lavender condiments chapter 417
+ submitted by - murmur
my hair, it is the eat! poor oswald was losing grasp, losing his
touch of karma. the inflappable mister jacoby was much more receptive to
this influx of fresh insolvency. alas, poor frannie, i knew your sheep
well. fight this generation, man! but oswald was frantically drowning
in his own frantic self-pity. my hair, it is the meat! he would not be
rescued by mister jacoby today, who hungrily thirsted over the periodicals
in the burnt out doctors waiting room. shut up, you childish lug nut.
my hair, it is the sweet! and oswald was at the breaking point, the
lavender slowly oozing out of his cranial cavity. who do you think i am,
a muddy old jesus? alas, poor frannie, i knew your sheep well. my hair,
it is the eat! cried oswald, and he slipped, backsliding fearlessly.
moral: here she comes, that rainy day sun. c 1992 spinal tap.
+-- dto --+
+ blind love
+ submitted by - gumby
blind love
a strange face.
a familiar smile.
we have met before.
i cannot recall the
time nor the place.
maybe it was in dreams.
when our souls passed
each other.
it has jointed us forever.
we will never see each
on this land.
our hearts and souls will
be one until the end of time.
- sam griga 8-3-95
doomed to obscurity issue one has been brought to you by the letters p, q,
and the number five.
for the latest in dto propaganda, call dto whq - tacoland - @ 215-750-0392
nup - dreams are free
all correspondence should be directed towards - dto@tnce.com
d2o one / all rights reserved - 1995 - doomed to obscurity press
s s S. Yb s
.s S. Ys S :
. . Ys : : .
: s 33
+ god made us funky - mc +
+ dto spotlight on - gumby
gumby resident poet - angst! pain! angst!
+-- dto --+
+ undecided
+ submitted by - gumby
undecided
why must it be that i act in two personalities?
one, a well-lived, wise person.
or another, a child with no common sense.
it never makes a decision.
i dont think it can.
i dont think it will.
why must i be one with undecided people living
inside me?
why does it come at the wrong time?
the wrong personality that is.
i wish once that it will make up its mind.
the question is:
which one is my true, rightful person?
i guess i will know when it tells me.
no one cares to find out, except me.
- sam griga 7-18-95
+ dto spotlight on - black francis
black francis head editor, writer, president-type chap - black francis sure
does like ice cream!
+-- dto --+
+ dto, downhome baked goodness, and you!
+ written by - black francis
why anyone would let me, of all people, introduce a new zine is
beyond me, but, here i am. ahh.
greetings salutations, kids. its nice to see you all again.
i sure dont miss writing as much as i thought i did, you know.
mogel gave me this list of things to cover here, so, let me get right
to it
a who are we?
were the doomed to obscurity posse, silly. i would hope you know
that already.
you people never cease to amaze me.
in case you truely are that clueless, i guess it wouldnt hurt to go
over it one more time. first, lets make with the d2o staff.
i guess im a good place to start. im black francis. im a writer.
ive written for a few different zines, drawn for a few art groups
something im really not that proud of, and somewhere along the line, i
managed to run a semi-popular zine dubbed pEz monthly. maybe youve
heard of it.
no.
next up is good ol mogel. in case youve been locked in a closet
for the past few months, youve probably heard his name muttered before.
mogel is also a writer and has written for such prestegious t-file funsters
such as cdc vas. mogel was also the president of a pretty large and
fairly successful t-file group named hoe. hoe managed to to spawn ninety
issues of pure unadulterated zaniness before its unexpected demise early
last month. hes a wacky guy, that mogel.
whatever.
swoon. its eerie. yeah, so, eerie is a doodleboy. big whoop. the
boy can write. i bet you didnt know that, eh? eh? or maybe you did.
while not jumping in and out of big-time ansi groups such as acid or
spastic, eerie has managed to run two extremely successful e-mags. number
uno ace - the music e-mag and number dos undergrown - the ansi scene
related e-mag with some wit and intelligence thrown into the mix which had
quickly become a cult classic before its premature death after only ten
issues. eerie also has a really funny french accent. tee hee!
make me an ansi.
last but certainly not least is our little fuzzy pal, murmur. um.
well, umm, he was the vice president of my zine, and, umm, he wrote for
bah a few times. i guess thats it.
he likes donuts.
what a lame ass.
b why are we here?
who the hell knows?
screw you.
c what is dto all about?
well, in a nutshell, doomed to obscurity is a zine of the poeople.
yeah. or something like that. whatever.
doomed to obscurity is a zine that will basically publish anything
humorous, educational, though-provoking, informative, or anything even
slightly entertaining. as long as its not poetry, its all good.
doomed to obscurity is an independant publication that relys on
submissions from people like you. if theres something you want to say
and get off your chest or whatever - youve certainly come to the right
place. wether it be a short story you have written or an all out rant,
were interested in publishing it. if youre interested in submitting or
writing on a regular basis - check out the dto info file for more
extra-tasty-crispy-valueable information file for details.
we also hope to pick up a few chicks along the way.
d how did this whole elite deal come about?
well, its a real long story, but ill try to make it a big ass
run-on sentence just because i think i love you.
mogel ran hoe i ran pez james hetfield runs std and he formerly ran
milk and milk tea then i killed pez and mogel killed hoe and james
hetfield killed std and mogel asked james hetfield and i if we wanted to
start a zine together and we all agreed and we couldnt decide on a name so
jamesy quit and started his own zine nihilism monthly and then eerie wanted
to join and so we hooked up with him and then we made murmur a president as
well so we could basically round it off to four guys and here we are now.
e what are your goals for this zine?
two words - geraldo!
oh shit. thats only one word.
+-- dto --+
well, woo hoo. that was a barrel of monkeys. i guess were all
finished, then. got any more questions? tough shit. i really dont care.
anywho, its been a blast. you kids enjoy yourselves.
doomed to obscurity one and all contents therein ..
1 - undecided
by - gumby
2 - dto, downhome baked goodness, and you!
by - black francis
3 - doomed to obscurity one and all contents therein ..
by - black francis
4 - a zine carol
by - james hetfield
5 - guns for goths
by - mogel
6 - how to become a conservative nut for love and money!
by - shadow tao
7 - i wanna be a king, baby!
by - mogel
8 - phearnet vs. killer wombat
by - mogel
9 - the question of representive democracy
by - murmur
10 - piss them off
by - eerie
11 - the working class
by - eightball
12 - where have all my children gone? a reflection in six movements.
by - murmur
13 - ozzy, youre the man.
by - fake scorpion
14 - lavender - condiments chapter 417.
by - murmur
15 - blind love.
by - gumby
+ dto spotlight on - james hetfield
james hetfield writer - james hetfield is so elite, hes sneaky pete. his
garfield figure and his yellow eyes keep the women far, far away.
very few can say they have the charisma that james hetfield has,
mainly because those that do tend to be small insects. in the near
future, james hetfield will be rapidly changing the meet the growing
demands of a changing global environment. meanwhile, he will be
watching reruns of rerun on whats happenin now? and eating lots
of skittles. skittles has fur! - official fod tm rumor
+-- dto --+
+ a zine carol
+ submitted by - james hetfield
ive always hated this time of year. all the people going off to
college. everyone all sad and stuff about leaving their friends behind.
bah. humbug. i dont have any friends to leave behind.
this is also the time of year that the most zines die and the
most writers stop writing. well, good for them. leaves less competition.
im tired of hearing people whine and moan about the scene. maybe theyll
all leave.
unfortunately, soon will be the time that the most new kids get
into the scene. they never have any writing talent. humbug. i hate them
all.
+-- dto --+
i woke up that night to a chill running down my spine. i looked
up, and above me was some type of apparition! i jumped out of bed, trying
to get away from it, but it followed me where ever i went.
hetfield... james hetfield... it moaned in its breathy voice.
what? what do you want with me?? i yelled in fear. it held
its ground.
i am the ghost of guido sanchez.. it shrieked.
guido? is that you?! i thought you were... well, you are...
i am trapped on this planet to walk the streets every night
because of my crimes to the scene...
your crimes to the scene? but guido, you were one of the best
writers...
save yourself, while you can! tonight you will be visited by
three ghosts. each will show you a different time. heed their words,
hetfield, for they are your only salvation... otherwise you will end up
like me... mee... meee... he howled as he exited the room.
+-- dto --+
i must have fallen asleep for a while, because when i woke up
my alarm clock was blaring. i didnt remember setting it. the time was
12am. midnight.
i felt a light breeze pass me. i looked up, and there was a man
dressed in white robes. he had long, black hair, with a streak of purple
in it.
epic? is that you? i asked him.
it is i, the ghost of zines past. i used to be one of your
favorite writers, james hetfield...
you certainly were! those articles about sea monkies were
great! i said as i smiled.
alas, james hetfield... i am here to show you the days of zines
past... take my hand....
+-- dto --+
whats this? blah headquarters???
yes, james hetfield, blah itself..
wow! ive never seen this before!!!
guido sanchez was sitting at his computer, typing away. he was
drawing out an ascii portrait of bob dobbs, with the title on it why
we all exist. chessman was at another computer writing a clockwork
banana.
this was your beginnings, james hetfield.. trying desperately
to get into blah, and failing miserably...
dont i know it. i was such a bad writer then... my stories were
silly, but really bad...
they might have been bad, james hetfield, but you had fun writing
them, did you not?
well, yes...but...
and do you have fun writing anymore, james hetfield?
well...
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
i totally forgot about this! this is a chi-chis in chicago!
look, there i am, sitting next to guido and connie and the melter, a guy
that wrote for za//!
yes, james hetfield, those were good times, were they not?
you bet... and there connie is, getting yelled at by mall
rent-a-cops!
a topic for a later blah file, wasnt it?
yeah, it was... hey! theres nyarlathotep!
one of the writers that wrote the most for your zines, am
i correct, james hetfield?
yeah...wow. the memories.
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
hooey! look! theres me at my computer, typing out blah-die.txt!
yes, the file that was never issued, but somehow got to every
blah distro sight, right james hetfield?
yeah.. it was an exact copy of the death of superman, word for
word... that was great...
take my hand, james hetfield...
+-- dto --+
james hetfield, this will be your last trip in zines past.
do you recognize this?
yeah! this is my house! im looking through all the milk
files on my computer... some were horrible, but some were great... god,
those days were so wonderful... everything was happy and bright... epic,
dont make me go back, i just want to stay here forever...
we must go back, james hetfield. take my hand...
+-- dto --+
i found myself in my bed. i tried to doze off for a while, but
soon i heard a voice above me.
james hetfield... james hetfield...
what? huh? who are you?
i am gumby, the ghost of zines present. you must come with
me and envision my visions.
uhm.. ok.
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh. hee. yuck. this is where i wrote all my std files. they
were so pointless. some of them were good writing, but the idea of just
starting the group out of thin air was really stupid of me. hardly anyone
wrote for it.
yes, james hetfield, that is because the sun is like the moon.
what?
nevermind. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
hahaha! theres mogel finishing up hoe495! that was one of the
greatest packs a zine could ever have!
yes, james hetfield, and what happened next?
oh. well mogel got sick of hoe and wanted me to run it, then
he killed it soon afterwards.
yes. you are correct james hetfield. take my hand.
+-- dto --+
thats black francis... writing his gumpy epilogue to pez025...
that was such a great zine too... all the best zines are just dying out...
im out of the scene, black francis is out of the scene, mogel seems to be
out of the scene...
light is the opposite of darkness, james hetfield.
yes... so?
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh heh. these were the hoe vs. gasp fights on the network. they
were pretty funny, but really stupid too.
yes they were, james hetfield. where is gasp now?
its dead...
and where is hoe now, james hetfield?
its dead... why are you making me do this? bring me back, i
want no more part of this.. i cant take it any longer!
you have to see it all. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh no. bring me back now, gumby. bring me back. i cant take
any more of this.
no. what do you see, james hetfield?
its guido... hes fucking his girlfriend... and hacking a unix
board at the same time... whatever happened to his creativity? why did he
decide to leave the scene? look whats happened to him now... he just hax
and fux... gumby, let me leave already, ive seen enough...
very well. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
my alarm clock woke me up again. the time was 2am.
wake up, james hetfield, weve got work to do.
who... what? pip? is that you?
yes it is, james hetfield. i am the ghost of zines future. i was
such a bad writer in my day, that they made me see the future of writing to
see what i should have been doing. this is my punishment. now its time to
see yours. take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
aghghghg! whats that?
thats mogel, james hetfield.
but...but... hes so fat!
when he decided to let hoe die, his life went to pot. he now sits
around and eats bon-bons and doritos all day and watches soap operas.
oh god.. mogel? what have you done to yourself?!?!
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
oh... no... who is that?
thats black francis.
no... no.. whats...whats...
a homeless woman lived by him, that used to take baths in the river
by his house. after black francis gave up on pez, he had way too much free
time. hes spend his days by that river, throwing rocks at her all day
long. so one day she bought a gun and shot him in the head six times, and
threw him in the river with her. he was never found. this is his rotting
body after 6 months.
take me away, pip, take me away please... i cannot see any more...
we have one vision left to see, james hetfield.
i cant handle it! please dont make me!
you have to see it, james hetfield, take my hand.
no! i wont do it! ... these are pictures of the future, right? i
can change these visions, right? this wont necessarily be my fate, will it
pip?
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
noooooo. nooooooo!!!! ahhhhhhhh!
yes, james hetfield. its you. its you working in an executive
office somewhere in chicago. you make 7.50 an hour and work 60 hours a
week to support your wife and two children. you have no creativity left
inside of you. your a pawn of the establishment, james hetfield.
god... pip.. i can change, right? this is only the future that
is set right now, correct? i can change my outcome, cant i???
you have seen enough, james hetfield. take my hand.
i can change, pip, i can change!!!!!
take my hand, james hetfield.
+-- dto --+
my alarm clock went off. it was 6am. i went directly to my computer
and wrote 5 straight wacky files. they werent that good, but they kept me
happy. i can change. i will change.
i called up m0g and frannie that day, and i pain-stakingly somehow
convinced them to form a new group. and this group will keep us from what
we are destined to have our fate be. we will change the future.
+ guns for goths
+ submitted by - mogel
from: vampyr@bu.edu eamon daly
newsgroups: alt.drugs,alt.stupidity,talk.bizarre,alt.pud, alt.party,
alt.fan.biff,alt.drunken.bastards
subject: re: anyone else gothic out there?
date: 31 jul 1995 18:56:03 gmt
organization: boston university
lines: 38
1 glock 19
1 finger
1 sense of direction
1 bullet
inhale here
pull this
back ----- 8888o.o.o.o.ooooooo0000oooooooooooooooooooo88o
88:8:8:8:8:8888888000088888888888888888888888: --
88:8:8:8:8:888888888888888888888888888888888888:
y88:8:8:8:8:8888888888888888888ooooooooooooooop
8oooooooooooooooooooo
bullets .88888888888.::: 8
go in here 88888888888yo * 8 *pull this thingy here.
.88888888888 oooooooood8o - this way -
---- 88888888888
.88888888888
88888888888
.88888888888
98888888888
yy888p -- release clip here
point bullet - this way -
- release the long rectangular thing inside the handle clip.
- put one 1 bullet in clip.
- stick the clip back into the handle.
- pull back on the handle until it clicks, then let go.
- put knobby thing into your mouth.
- breathe in.
- pull the pointy thing that sticks down see *.
enjoy!
+ dto spotlight on - shadow tao
shadow tao writer - even while living in the presence of his loving
conservative parents, tao has become a true factor in the politics of
the world. while many people look to him as one of the true
spiritual guides of the planet, he actually has nothing more than a
high school diploma. this student/guru spends his time typing out
odd stories and weird tales to amuse himself and others. shadow tao
is quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with, as illinois has
quickly fallen under his message the internet does not have *chat
rooms*, that is america online, you morons... he is attending the
prestigious illinois wesleyan university also attended by the
more-than-notable murmur and is a computer science major. he is
hoping to take a minor role within the up-and-coming mogel-world.
+-- dto --+
+ how to become a conservative nut for love and money!@!@
+ propaganda by - shadow tao
has your social life lost its greater meaning? do you sit at home
and wonder what you *could* be doing to help america? join the conservative
religious right! were the majority, no matter how many people object!
when you join us:
1. youll be assimilated into the group! right in the comfort and
convenience of your own home!
2. you wont have to think anymore! just repeat what everyone else says!
3. youll have a reason to distrust officials and lie on your taxes, cause
youll be persecuted by the government! even though we control the
senate and house, the government is operated by the bureaucratic satanist
liberals, dont you know?
4. youll get a nifty hat!
5. you can make neat-o conspiracies! more to come
6. your party is the party of god! yes, the holy father is a republican!
says so in the bible
7. shitloads of monkeys! rhesus! baboon! gibbon! we got em all!
8. the opportunity to oppress peoples here and abroad all in the name of
the american way.
9. weve got all the cash!
10. monkeys! dont forget the monkeys! big nosed, hairy boobed,
pink-intestine-covered-buttocks monkeys!
join now and youll be able to afford the new tax jockeying. you
belong to us! remember: even if you dont join, in a few years, well own
your property anyway. and then, well rent it to you at three times the
going rate!
how? you ask? its a four step process!
1. we get a cause. we find something that really challenges the fundamental
principals of the constitution. like free thought and people who
disagree. or having to treat aliens like human beings and not being
able to call foreigners spickywopkrautchinkn
2. we beat the hell out of it. fax your congressman 10 to 10,000 times a
day! make sure to do it at night so that he cant open his door in the
morning. btw: if you do elect a woman, make sure its a good lookin
one, cuz we dont want ugly fat chicks in congress!
3. we find a conspiracy. the world is full of these beauties. just pick
one and run with it. be sure to be current, though. example: when the
whole davidian deal started, an appropriate party comment would be:
a. i think we should try to figure out what they actually believe.
b. bomb the fuckers. commies from hell. guy thinks hes jesus, fer
crissakes!
c. maybe having tanks there is making this worse.
d. connie chung! aww yeah, ill hoist her anchor, baby!
wink, wink, nudge, nudge
answer: b. well, d is good. yeah, d!@
one year after the davidian assault, the party comment would be:
a. our alien overlords came down to dictate to our puppet government
what to do.
b. it was all a big mistake.
c. my ferrari is in the shop. sigh
d. vince foster actually led the raid, and hillary shot him in cold
blood to prevent his damning testimony.
answer: c. but there were a lot that answered d and a!
4. we sell it, sell it, sell it! pieces of david koreshs skull! pictures
of the u.n. invasion force! do-it-yourself militia kit! guns! bombs!
hatred! pro-life! christianity! we have it all! remember, were not
hypocrites, were an oppressed group that is crucified by the liberal
media!
join us for the money we have all the cash.
join us for the love we have all the monkeys.
join now!
+ dto spotlight on - mogel
mogel co-editor, president type - born under poor conditions, the
mysterious figure known as mogel has set forth upon an intricate
and fool-proof plan to climb the social and economic ladders of
america, only to eventually dominate the world. according to him,
this mogel-world will become a reality in our lifetimes. well,
that is if the government doesnt stop me. currently, mogel writes
contrived fiction and message-encoded essays on everything known to
man. yes, even turnips. mogels last ezine project was the
illustrious zine hoe, an anthology of the life and times of each and
every member of congress. mogel refuses to comment on any of the
rumors about his past affiliations with any sort of hacker community
and any of his run-ins with the law. all we know for certain about
this mogel is that he is a philadelphia native attending some college
in new york as a film major, and that he is very, very dangerous.
+-- dto --+
+ i wanna be a king, baby!
+ submitted by - mogel
plop!
i rolled off my bed and onto the floor. thump went my body. my eyes
blinked open.
three ayyy emmm blinks the bright red numbers on my annoying clock.
it was a pretty crappy clock. then again, i was never one to care much
about clocks. after all, it did what i needed it told the time in bright
digital numbers, and it had that always-important eleven-minute snooze
button that was my friend and deadliest enemy at the same time. i had
dueled with that clock many a morning! realizing that i had actually
dedicated this much thought to a damn clock would normally bother me, but
thats okay right now cause im here now at three in the morning lying on
my floor and i dont have anything better to do but have my goofy mind
wander.
yep, i do have a goofy mind. my emotions do that big stupid yo-yo
bouncy-bounce action every few hours and i can hate myself and love myself
in the same sitting. i think too much. i over kill. i obsess. i dont do
my laundry. i guess its just my personality. i like to think about things
that arent actually important to my every-day life. im a self-destruction
souflee, babycakes! my life is falling to pieces, but hey! i found the
coolest pocket lint! the irony moves on and on with me because i know
that ive got all kinds of important ideas to spew than so many other morons
out there that actually do have the chance to be heard, but say nothing of
any value. and here i am doing nothing, wasting away my life in a computer
obsession. sometimes i feel like ive lost everything.
and i look at me, im 19 years old, and im here. theres people
that go to insert excellent academic college here and think and learn
these wonderful thoughts and ideas and they never actually use them,
except to write papers for their class. what a wonderful world we live in
that the only reason we learn something is to do well in that class. not
so, you say? ah, it happens all the time. we live in a bullshit world
where its implicitly become the national expectation to become a doctor or
lawyer. doctors who can charge whatever they want. lawyers we actually
encourage people to become assholes.
hey! a congested justice system in this country is fun! let me sue
you cause you looked at me funny.
who can solve my problems?
someone bigger than me!
who can i blame?
someone else!
woo-woo! what a fun game! its easy, baby! play along!
in todays world we have 50 of kids going into the hopeful state
that they too can become part of the wacky field of entertainment, cause
they know that many entertainers today can make a fortune with virtually no
talent. amazing, you say? it happens all the time.
gettin sick of this train of thought, i pull my tired self up off
the floor and go to my bathroom to pee. its funny that i can get up like
this. it seems like i have such a natural love for sleep. maybe its just
an escape. i never bothered to analyze it really, which amazes me, cause i
usually make myself puke with over-analysis.
random thoughts are fun. its a morning thing.
im such a rebel cause im the most normal person alive.
dont get me wrong, its not like im a complete dimwit. sure ive
basically amounted to nothing in my life, but you must remember that most
people have, so its okay! im more hip than those gen-x punks. ive got
so much slack they cant even fuckin conceive of it. whee! yeah, it is
pretty immature to compare your patheticness to other people just to feel
better, but i mean im not all that immature. i dont play with my
transformers anymore. ive passed my comic book phase. i dont even
understand what the hell the appeal is with the power rangers. but wait!
im not an adult! adults suck! they limit themselves! you cant trust
them! theyre not fun anymore!
yeah! im so hip it hurts.
hey! what if theres a naked girl in the bathroom waiting for me?!
i turn on the light. damn. no naked girl. but i do get a chance to
see the cockroaches scatter. oh boy!
it feels like i havent slept in days.
hypothesis: im a worthless moron, i mumble. why am i a worthless
moron? i actually stop myself for a moment to ask. i proceed to step on a
cockroach and react quite disgusted.
because, i start i can rationalize the right thing to do forever
in an infinite number of ways, but i never seem to gather up the motivation
to run out and do whats important.
of course, there is that morning hyperbole thing.
having peed a full 2 minutes and turning the toilet water a very dark
amber, i flush. you didnt want to know that, you say? good. that makes
two of us. sometimes all i know is that i know nothing. hey. someone
famous said that.
fuck plato, i mutter to myself and head back to my room. i get
back on my bed and i realize that i cant sleep. damnit. i can always
sleep. what the hell is my friggin problem?! what do i want? something
was definitely on my mind. then it hit me how bad my lack of motivation for
everything really was. did i care about anything anymore? im just a big
stupid sack o flesh that means nothing. okay, okay. enough of this
thought. what the hell do i want this *minute*? money? not really. love?
maybe. sex? couldnt hurt. fame? oh yeah! thats it!
ten-thousand screaming girls clutching themselves at my feet. it
would be an honor just to fuckin see my face. i want every guy to phear me
and every girl to want me i want one very special girl to *love* me. but
then again, who doesnt want this? and im sittin here realizing that
typing these characters on this screen do nothing to accomplish that, and i
continue writing this sentence and its gettin pounded deeper into my mind
that im just venting. what am i accomplishing here? is this just a
pathetic psychological babble to get rid of a little stress. did anyone
care? did anyone relate? what the hell am i doing here? shouldnt i be
outside making good conversation with my friends? the days of my life pass
so quickly i cant even stop for a minute and enjoy anything. wait. that
sounded familiar.
fuck socrates, i say in a fit.
im gettin all giddy. im gettin into a spaz. im starting to get
rootin tootin mad cause im sitting here in the middle of the night
staring at the friggin ceiling and im bored. im bored senseless.
dont hate me cause i am just so k-rad.
you should never fear death, someone said to me. i dont! i
dont! youve gotta be special. youve gotta do somethin. youve gotta
be somethin. hut! hut! make that mark, boy! without struggle there is
no progress! dont forget it!
fuck douglas! i say. im boppin in a tissy now.
i remember hearing about a guy that was so crazy that he loved to
have problems. the man was so damn happy, that he was getting bored and
looked forward to problems just to break the monotony of his life. maybe
happiness boredom. they say the smarter you get the more depressed you
get. well, im fuckin einstein, baby! feel my brain! rub it! caress it!
make it part of you! youll dream of having the sexy funk-brain that i
got when i was born!
love me.
that mogel is so full of shit! die!
its pretty ironic that someone like me has never found love. i
beg for it, but i never find it. ive never really connected to any girl
ive ever gone out with. ive never truly loved anyone, and yet i love
everyone in the world. isnt this sick?
im gettin pretty pissy now, so i snap and punch myself hard in the
left eye. ouch! ive got a black eye now. itll go away, i mutter to
myself. ive got problems. maybe i can fix them like that man. yeah! i
can fix my problems up real good!
i jump up and run out of my room in a fury. i leap down the stairs,
four-at-a-time, and i run outside, making sure to nab my quick-bag of
assorted rad snacks. its all quiet outside, and i wanna stop to enjoy it,
but no-way-jose cause i got stuff to do. i bop over to my backyard and
climb up my ladder. it would be neat to have a flash light, but im too hip
or that sorta of thing, and im in a rush to get up. a small collection of
ding-dongs accidentally flop out of my back, but theres no turning back,
baby!
im crazy! im wacky! im zany! im nuts-o!
i get up to the roof and im lookin over the edge and its amazing.
heres my house. heres my neighborhood. heres my city. heres my life.
fuck you!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!!@@!@!!1 i scream out to the
world at the top of my lung and im lovin every minute of it. a light
turns on and someone pokes their head out their window and craftfully says
to me shut up!
fuck you! i say to them. i peg a twinkie and score a direct hit
on the guys bald, yuppie head.
die! i say, you fuckin suck!
the guy retreats with a puzzled look on his face and he goes back to
sleep. he is instilled with phear! my anarkee is complete!
fuck you!@@!@@! i repeat again.
no response. bliss. i pompously devour a box of sunnydoodles. i am
at peace. i am finally free.
+ phearnet vs. killer wombat
+ submitted by - mogel
date: 7:53 pm thu jul 27, 1995 number : 48 of 48
from: killer wombat 173:703/1 base : private mail
to : rattle 173:173/0 refer : none
subj: im using jhs aka to piss you o replies: none
stat: private netmail origin : 27 jul 95 19:32:28
you know, when i got the phearnet application pack and saw
phearnet, the most exciting thing since soup
-m0g
i thought that this net might have some potential entertainment value, that
the people who run it have a sense of humor. but having been in phearnet, i
realize that you people are some of the most anal, dickfaced elitist
bastards in the computer world.
you people should lighten up and learn to joke around a little. i can
have intelligent conversation in my history class at school. why should i
spend my message writing time making sure everything is perfect and the
message is intelligent? why should i spend my time deleting mail left by
users who spent their message writing time leaving those messages. nobodys
perfect, asshole.
i hope you and your rich little pals have a good time writing intelligent
messages to each other like a bunch of harvard geeks. without bottled
violence. ill be out with friends laughing at cripples, winos, and
especially geeks like you and the people on your net. having a good time.
maybe ill even publish a zine. a real zine, none of this retarded
e-zine shit. a zine that interests people whose hobbies dont include
sitting on the computer all day and arguing about what is a lame post.
fuck you.
+ the question of representative democracy
+ submitted by - murmur
im not going to amble on endlessly about this i just want to get a
couple ideas out, and let people think about them.
what is the purpose of a representative democracy, in a simple sense?
even simpler, what is the purpose of the representative? basically, he/she
represents his/her constituents by functioning at a higher level to get
things done for those constituents. a plurality of votes, in most cases, is
what elects a representative to his/her office.
without going into mindless detail, an interesting question that has
recently been posed once again stands out: should the representative vote
in such a way that it falls in line with the constituents wishes? a
majority of the constituents wishes? what if the representative disagrees?
what if the people are simply completely wrong?
this comes up now because of the renewed bosnian question. people
dont want to send in american forces so far as im concerned, we have no
other option at this point. , but im not going to debate that. the thing
is: no matter what, the two options are send in troops or dont. no
halfways anymore. and heres the thing: presented with a troops yes,
troops no question, people will say no. so what should our president, our
congress do?
for arguments sake im going to say the right thing to do is send
troops in this is being used as an argument and im not preaching about
bosnia.
the question becomes one of priorities: do the wishes of the people
outweigh the concept of doing whats right? if the people vote to do things
the wrong way, should the government do the right thing anyways, because
its right?
i dont want to get too in depth, but think about that: would you
rather your president did the right thing or what the majority of the
population wanted? which is constitutional? whats the correct recourse?
i say right overrules majority. thats me. what about you? this is
an important question, especially when it comes time to vote, which many of
us already legally do and many more of us soon will. do you want a
man/woman that will abide by the peoples wishes above all else, or that
will do whats right above all else, in such a situation?
just food for thought.
+ dto spotlight on - eerie
eerie president-type, writer - eerie lives somewhere up there in canada. we
dont know where exactly. actually it seems like he doesnt even know
where he lives. all we know is that he is under high observation at
some asylum. his favorite sentence is the best way to get rid of
suicidal tendencies is to blow your head out. he spends his days
wishing he was thurston moore, which is kind of pathetic. the two
things he does best are: saying hey! dont fuck with my nigguh
okay? with an american accent and breaking guitar strings. his main
project for the future is to become an alternative rock star, marry a
pseudo punkette and get rid of his suicidal tendencies.
+ piss them off
+ submitted by - eerie
okay, this is kind of a little guide about how to get parents and
other stuck-up people to be pissed off at you. follow it and be glad i
wrote it, cuz who would have been loser enough to write this?!
a the basics. of course, the first things to do are pretty
simple, youve prolly done them all already, which is e-wheat. first: you
need to get a funky haircut. grow your hair long, dye it green or just
shave it off, but do something. second: get some tees. violent tees, if
possible. with alot of blood on them. and skulls, maybe. a legalize it
tee is always a must too. dont wash your jeans. dont wash yourself at
all. okay, now you look dirty. well, no, actually you dont, but stuck-up
conservative piece of shit lamer people will think that you are dirty.
there, you pissed them off. congratulations, but keep on. three: music.
play it loud. dont listen to any easy-listening stuff. if possible, and
even if you dont like it at all, listen to death metal stuff. or white
zombie, cf ftg2 or 3, i dont remember but that was a nifty artikul play
it even louder. if you have an electric guitar, play it loud too. play
the guitar and the death metal tapes all at the same time. buy a drum and
play it the loudest.
b religion. be an atheist. better even, be a buddhist or a
muslim. follow the cult religiously. you need it. i mean, you can have
your hair dyed green, sometimes it just wont do it. you need something
more shocking: religion. well, actually, you can even fake it. its not
like anyone cares. just try to look really really really involved. if its
not even enough, then just join a sect.. be a jehovah witness. knock at
your parents door every morning at 5am to tell them about how to be saved.
c sex. even if you dont, say that you have alot of it.
publicly. support free distribution of condoms in schools. support
condom-free sexual intercourses. support homosexuality, incest, necrophilia
and bestiality. better even, be one of those. have your little sister tell
your mom you had sex with her and she liked it. say that cemetaries are the
most erotic places you know. kiss your dog on the mouth for at least a
minute while your parents are looking. funkier even, be a homosexual. if
you are a guy, well everytime you go out say that you went at pauls, or
whoever the name, make sure its a guy name, always the same. sleep over at
his house. after a month or two, break up and act depressed. your
parents will go bezerk. you dont even need to actually fuck with the guy.
just fake it. well if you want to, go for it. it will only be more
realistic.
d opinions. support everything they dont support, and vice
versa. this is rather simple. explain people that you believe in violent
anarchy. tell them that the schools should teach children how to build
bombs. now you pissed them off. what was the point? there was none. it
was just fun. i mean, why be nice with stuck-up people? id rather be
hypocritical a bit so it gives me a good laugh when i see how they react.
its only a big game, but youre the only one who gnoze.
make good use of this e-wheat information. take care.
+ dto spotlight on - eightball
eightball writer - this is the first zine in which any of 8balls work has
been/will be released. however, eightball is far from a newbie.
this modem warrior has been at the fringes of the scene for roughly
six or seven years. he has been writing stories and poems damn
better than gasp, although thats not notably a difficult feat
since he was old enough to write. he currently resides in a suburb
of philadelphia, pa, where he continues to work on fresh ideas for
dto.
+-- dto --+
+ the working class
+ submitted by - eightball
welcome to ihop. my name is insert stupid generic name here, and
ill be your server today.
the words pounding in my head. the boy, no older than 16, wipes the
droplets of sweat from his forehead as he scribbles down yet another order.
this mere child, not yet old enough to vote for the legislators that decide
the fate of his well-being, has been pressed into a life of servitude.
gazing around the restaurant, he sighs in relief on noticing that his
manager is not present. one little slip-up could mean termination.
i observe his movements for a while. he moves with determination
with pride. why is he here today, taking orders from white trash scum? why
does he remain within these walls, giving his all for pennies and dimes? i
ponder the answers to these questions while munching imitation scrambled
eggs, powder-mixed pancakes, and the innards of animals who eat their own
feces.
this boy is a member of the working class. he works 12 hour shifts
of back-breaking labor for four dollars an hour? but just think of how
proud his parents must be of their growing son, earning his keep at a local
eatery.
international house of pancakes: where a raise is the height you fly
to when they kick you in the ass where job security means your father is
the general manager where meals are free for employees, but you have to pay
to make a phone call home.
his smile fading slowly as he takes yet another order, the boy
ignores the sneers and jeers of his friends hanging out across the street.
why cant *i* be out there? he questions the air.
smile! youre working at ihop! the boy turns around quickly, to
see his shift manager writing him up again.
sorry, sir. i enjoy working here. i really do!
then haul your ass away from the window! you have three tables
waiting for their orders to be taken!
yes, sir.
muttering to no one in particular, he trudges along slowly, like a
puppy after its daily beating from a poor master.
welcome to ihop. my name is generic name, and i will be your
server for today. may i take your order, sir?
the man to whom the questions are directed looks up, as if noticing
for the first time that hes in a restaurant. yes, uhh... ill have the
rooty tooty fresh n fruity combo, with a side of scrapple, and a large
mountain dew. dear?
the mans companion, a striking woman in her forties, responds
softly, with one of those accents you just cant place, ill have a large
salad and.... a small orange juice.
the boy waits for a minute, and says will that be all?
no, no.. a kiddie platter of eggs and bacon for each of the
children, answers the woman.
the boy looks around him confused. maam, children? they have no
children!
yes... over-easy for frank, scrambled for little jessa.
yes, maam. the bewildered waiter enters the list into the
computer data-base at the rail. man, the boy thinks to himself, i need
to stop staying up so late. im starting to see things.
+-- dto --+
who am i, you may be wondering? im a service assistant, doomed to
the same shit-hours and shit-pay as the waiter aforementioned. and yes, i
too work at ihop. i make 5.50 an hour, plus tips, and im the highest paid
service assistant in the whole place? thats right. i bus tables, wash
dishes, assist the cooks, clean the bathrooms, mop and vacuum the floors,
and the list goes on and on. why? because i, too, strive for the american
dream. whats the american dream? come on, now! m-o-n-e-y. i degrade
myself 72 hours a week to bring home a 300 paycheck every week.
and i, like every other teenager in this society, ends up spending
the whole damn thing every weekend. oh, but theres so much out there to
buy... some new clothes? sure! drugs? why the fuck not? im already
fucked up enough as it is. thats why i dont watch t.v. id go into
debt... t.v. is one big commercial. they want the hard-working members of
the lower middle class to spend their hard-earned cash on this product and
that.
it all comes down to this: everyone wants money. why do we need
money so badly? because money is power. you have the power to buy a new
shirt - now you can laugh at the people who cant afford to. power!@!@ use
it to go see a movie? well, youre one up on the loser who cant afford to
take his girlfriend anywhere... youre out every fucking night! power!!!
we, the working class, just keep getting sucked in farther and
farther. your father has a lease to pay every month for that brand new
lexus dont forget - i live on the main line of the philly area!, so he
cant afford to buy food. your mom needs a new dress, so you have to buy
your own school supplies. because - we work! and since we work, our
parents figure we have nothing important to want to spend our money on, so
we might as well buy stupid things. a car? haha, youre only 16. a
down payment on a house? but you have 4 years of college before that?
speaking of college... now what would your parents say if you wanted
to, say, drop out of high school, get your ged, and start writing freelance
for a local paper? theyd say this: but you need an education for any job
out there. you need to get a job where you can make money.
but what if i think i can do it without going to college?
no son/daughter of mine is going to be a drop-out junkie!
so... they want whats best for you, huh? they think, were poor,
and money means happiness, so thats the best thing for our child. well let
me tell you something dad, money may be power in this society, but neither
money nor power mean happiness... because what does someone want when they
have *some* power? they want more. am i the only one who sees this as a
never-ending cycle, where happiness just isnt to be seen? if i want to
spend my life in a cardboard box in the middle of china town, composing pad
poetry and drawing stupid cartoons to support my drug problem, who cares??
if im happy, truly happy, then what do i need large sums of money for?
if you get one thing out of this file, i hope its that you should do
whatever you want. do what will make you happy. dont live your life to
make others happy. just make sure to remember this: live for you.
+ dto spotlight on - murmur
murmur another president guy, writer - starting off a mere twenty months
ago on peedee boards, this intimidating individual is happy as a clam
to be at the center of the great new text file revolution. he likes
his radishes with potato chips, and is still recovering from an
injury sustained at dummercon from tlorah. murmurs writings often
consist of seemingly random essays and stories, but we are told
that if you look hard enough, youll see the blueprints for
mankind! murmur awaits the one mystical day when he will be
kidnapped and molested by an underground team of alternateen girls
that upon saying yes! we found meaning in it!@ he will be in
final ectasy.
+-- dto --+
+ where have all my children gone? a reflection in six movements
+ submitted by - murmur
alright, you little pantywaists. its time to take a reflective
look in the mirror. to accomplish this, well use six distinct movements.
1 -- put your left foot in. now, do you see a problem? you should. you
should notice your left foot, jammed up against the mirror. what?
youre not using a full wall mirror? youre an idiot. you already
fail.
2 -- check your tonsils for phlegmy oozy yuck. is there white crud on
your tonsils? it sucks, doesnt it?
3 -- turn around, and gaze as best you can over your right shoulder. is
your ass too large? if so, diet, you damn wildebeest.
4 -- jam your nose close enough to the mirror to see nose hairs. now,
thats marvy. can you *see* them little snotties on your nose hairs?
can you? sure you can! youre a better person for it!
5 -- make many funny faces. if youre frightened by yourself, go sell
yourself, fast man, to the highest clown.
6 -- stand tall. if you bump your head on the ceiling, sell me your
volkswagen!
now that youve taken a reflective look at yourself in six movements,
lets see what weve determined. are you demented? do you eat your pinto
beans by themselves, or smothered in potatoes to alleviate the awful taste?
do you even know what a pinto bean looks like? how about a 78 ford pinto?
ever been in one thats exploded? how about a gremlin? those gremlins
were uglier than satan, but still got you from new york to shabbona.
its nice to see that with just a little coercion anyone can feel a
whole lot better. dont you feel better? i feel so much better im going
to eat your children, and youll be left asking, where have all my
children gone? and ill say to my belly, where they belong, the dirty
little whores.
+ dto spotlight on - fake scorpion
fake scorpion writer - otherwise known as the man of many handles this
man changes aliases like underwear. no one really knows much about
this writer, hes been seen leaving his room only to eat and use the
bathroom. we have concrete proof that he is a recovering angst
junkie who once started his own zine, ftg. he burned out after the
third issue and called it quits. he often mentions how unsatisfied
he is living in the town of smithfield, nc. some call him disturbed,
but we should call him god.
+-- dto --+
+ ozzy, youre the man
+ submitted by - fake scorpion
+ real world scenario border begins
him - so what music do you like?
me - ill name a few musicians pavement, beck,
nirvana, frank black, shellac, dinosaur jr,
green day, etc.
him - you fucking poseur!!!
+ real world scenario border ends
im being honest, shit like that actually happens to me. ive
compiled ten of the biggest trends of today for your brain to soak up.
thank me later, when all your friends hail you as god.
1. call everyone who isnt a clone of yourself a poseur, prep,
redneck, or loser. its similar to stereotyping, but even
worse. example: look at his clothes, hes wearing shorts!
fucking prep!
2. pull your underwear up into your ass so the stripe at the top
is a little above your shorts/pants. fuck the wedgie you get,
its all for style!
3. wear the kurt cobain 1942-1994 t-shirts. boohoo, the
spokesman of our generation died. lets wear his t-shirt,
because exploiting dead people is a trendy thing to do.
4. have your wallet attached to your pants by a long as shit
dog-chain. make sure you dont trip over the chain, because
if you do, youre not cool.
5. when people ask you what type of music you like, tell them indie
rock. then tell them how cool your new bush cd is.
6. if someone asks you what your favorite tv show is, tell them
its friends. nobody actually likes that show, its just
been marketed as a trendy show, so you gotta tell everyone
you love it.
7. smoke a lot of pot, because pot is pretty trendy. if you tell
everyone that you hallucinated while you were high, theyll
think youre a god.
8. write a lot of angst poetry. make all your friends read it.
theyll crown you as the next messiah.
9. bitch about your favorite bands becoming popular. lie and tell
everyone that you were listening to them in their garage days.
no one will ever know you first saw them on mtv alternative
nation.
10. tell everyone that im your best friend, because i am the god
of being trendy.
there you go. impress your friends, become the high school stud.
its the cool thing to do.
+ lavender condiments chapter 417
+ submitted by - murmur
my hair, it is the eat! poor oswald was losing grasp, losing his
touch of karma. the inflappable mister jacoby was much more receptive to
this influx of fresh insolvency. alas, poor frannie, i knew your sheep
well. fight this generation, man! but oswald was frantically drowning
in his own frantic self-pity. my hair, it is the meat! he would not be
rescued by mister jacoby today, who hungrily thirsted over the periodicals
in the burnt out doctors waiting room. shut up, you childish lug nut.
my hair, it is the sweet! and oswald was at the breaking point, the
lavender slowly oozing out of his cranial cavity. who do you think i am,
a muddy old jesus? alas, poor frannie, i knew your sheep well. my hair,
it is the eat! cried oswald, and he slipped, backsliding fearlessly.
moral: here she comes, that rainy day sun. c 1992 spinal tap.
+-- dto --+
+ blind love
+ submitted by - gumby
blind love
a strange face.
a familiar smile.
we have met before.
i cannot recall the
time nor the place.
maybe it was in dreams.
when our souls passed
each other.
it has jointed us forever.
we will never see each
on this land.
our hearts and souls will
be one until the end of time.
- sam griga 8-3-95
doomed to obscurity issue one has been brought to you by the letters p, q,
and the number five.
for the latest in dto propaganda, call dto whq - tacoland - @ 215-750-0392
nup - dreams are free
all correspondence should be directed towards - dto@tnce.com
d2o one / all rights reserved - 1995 - doomed to obscurity press
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