+ doomed to obscurity + issue six + january 5th, 1996 +
iiiiii iiii iiii iiiii iiiii
!!!! !!!! iiiiii !!!!! !!!!!
Yss YssY YssY
+ youll look back in a few years realize youve wasted what shouldve +
+ been the best times of your life on colory blocks warez. - nitro-187 +
immunity integral
by - crank
simpered salaciously slew
the pernicious prurient putrescence
unabashed yet unrequited unscathed
coerced into cognizant complacency
malignant misanthropic ministrations
the facetious facade of obfuscation
while deplorable dementia is dissipating
i chortle at the cornucopia of connotations.
this is where the editorial goes
by - murmur
look@! im writing the editorial this month@!@ i must be one
FUCKING COOL GUY.
anyways here she is, dto issue six. and a fine issue she is, too.
what im sure everyone will notice about this issue is the fact that its
almost all fiction. and if you wouldnt have noticed it, you probably
wouldnt notice that ketchup stain on your sweater either. HA! made you
look@!
and now its time for dto news.
tonights top story: you wanted it, you got it. the dto homebase, that
stupid place is now up. mogel has one of the most elite boards of all
time and anyone can call. that stupid place can be reached by modem at
215-985-0462.
following up on our main story from last issue, black francis has indeed
left dto. dont speculate, get the facts for yourself by calling that
stupid place and downloading his faq on why he left dto. we do hope he
will write for us once again in the near future, however. so far as his
position as head editor and president goes this has been dealt with as
well. mogel assumes the head editor responsibilities with more help from
murmur on submissions. shadow tao has officially been named co-
president of dto productions as well. this makes the executive staff
like we really call it that: mogel, eerie, murmur, shadow tao.
in other news, there have been further developments in the hacking case
involving dto writer neko. hes been officially charged with multiple
counts, including phone fraud and computer tampering, and faces a
maximum of a 3,000 fine and a year in juvenile detention. dont expect
him to get that stiff a sentence, but dont be surprised if neko and the
other four arrested are hung out to dry as examples. for more information
call that stupid place or find a dto writer on irc and nab 815BUST1.ZIP,
including all of the articles and editorials surrounding the case from
the rockford register star.
our final news item this evening is definitely a human interest story:
pong. but who needs news to talk about pong?
if you dont know yet, dto productions is releasing another zine
for your reading pleasure, and that zine is indeed pong. pong features
more of the editorial-column nature pieces than dto and also includes
interviews and is expanding to include music pieces. the big thing we at
pong are trying to do right now is get in contact with bands, any bands,
that play any kind of music. send us a demo or official release, and we
will not only give you a writeup in pong, but also give you airplay on
our radio show this radio show would be goat-spiel, run by shadow tao and
myself. for more information or to acquire pong, email me at
murmur@rworld.com or email me on that stupid place. or, of course, look
for me on petrock on irc.
all and all, dto has become a pretty exciting endeavor. although
we were lagging a bit for submissions, theyve picked back up and we
already have a nucleus to build around for dto number seven. as always,
we encourage submissions and feedback from new faces, and the best place
to send feedback to is doomed@voicenet.com. please comply or well eat
your children.
this here editorial has now clocked in at little over a page, so
guess what? its done. enjoy the finest dto has to offer. either that,
or dont, and someone will hack your ears off.
doomed to obscurity six all contents therein ..
1 - immunity integral
by - crank
2 - this is where the editorial goes
by - murmur
3 - doomed to obscurity four all contents therein ..
by - mogel
4 - its live
by - shadow tao
5 - white lumps : the day the cabbage cried
by - dead cheese
6 - can you find the encoded message?
by - fake scorpion
7 - a man rolled up like a ball
by - juhk
8 - power of cock
by - fake scorpion
9 - sunday morning gas station blues
by - styx
10 - if i were you id shoot myself
by - sed
11 - the uncool kid
by - creed
12 - the adventures of mbujn zrplouc
by - eerie
13 - heinous chimera
by - crank
14 - warez da warez?
by - mogel
15 - scenes of the common the ephemere, part one
by - eerie
16 - androgynous mind
by - fake scorpion
17 - you crazy bastard!
by - mogel
18 - sugar - condiments chapter 1/2
by - murmur
19 - ode to a pancake
by - eightball
its live
by - shadow tao
.. welcome to the very first *live* lezza show ever!
audience : clap clap yay woo
lezza: hello. today, we explore a subject that has become more more
important to people everywhere. the digital underground. in
cities around the nation, kids are falling prey to the lures of
fast living modem jacking ..
panel
tao: whats modem jacking?
mogel: i dunno.
murmur: pavement ist rad!@
eerie: a bike? what?
lezza: todays panel is an underground group of kids who write about
jacking into the information superdriveway. please welcome the
inner circle of dto.
audience claps, camera focuses on mogel
lezza: please welcome our first guest, the head editor of dto, model.
audience claps half-assed
mogel: MOGEL.
lezza: what? moggeil?
mogel: mogel.
lezza: mmhm. now you say that you have connections in the underground all
over the country?
mogel: I LIKE SOUP*@!
lezza: what? what does soup have to do with it?
mogel: YOU ARE A SEXY WOMAN. TOUCH ME.
lezza: do you think that hacking is wrong?
mogel: well, it serves a purpose.
murmur: do you know what hacking is, even?
lezza: shure. i saw hackers ** the net.
m0rph: at home pffffffftt!@ buhahahahahahaha ..
lezza: but exactly what do you do when youre exploring the underground?
mogel: i eat chips. sometimes i eat chee-tos, but they get the keyboard
all orangy.
tao: i hate that.
eerie: tree@
lezza: audience? any questions? translated: release the hyenas!@
angry white trash 4: yew know where i come from we call people like you
nerds!@
tentative audience clapping
eerie: the fifth grade, it was hard on you?
redeemed poor black woman 2: sob ive been off welfare for two years i
have three kids six jobs sob i dont
do nothin like that!@@ sob
loud audience clapping hooting
murmur: yeah, that fifth grade is an evil place.
self-righteous upstanding-christian rich white trash brat: i am glad to say
that there are teens out there that are responsible do not
do this kind of thing to others! people like you are a
menace to our society!
tao: i cant believe i didnt see it before!@ lets lock up all those
evil h4q3rs!@ we honestly cant tell you what theyre doing wrong!
we cant figure out how theyre hurting us!@ let ignorance
paranoia be our guide81!! thats the ticket! let the media
sensationalists help us find who to lynch!@ well fill our
prisons with those mad hackers!@ dont dare spend time worrying
about pedophiles rapists!@ god protect my credit card@
jesus hide my password@!**
mogel: tao. youre spitting on people.
awkward pause
tao: oh. um. sorry.
lezza: our next guest is experienced with the treatment of people like our
panel. please welcome cyberdoctor cybermelman.
murmur: um. your name is actually cybermelman?
melman: ignoring murmur thank you for letting me on your show today, miss
gibbons. at our cyberclinic, i treat people who have succumbed to
the effects of the hiding in the caves of the internet underground.
mogel: caves? wha?
eerie: you need a cyberenema.
8ball: backstage d00d@! dont do it@
lezza: would you be able to treat our guests here?
melman: sure. our process is a simple one. we take the patient into
seclusion try to de-program the teachings of the underground out
of them.
murmur: .. like will.
tao: .. independent thought.
mogel: .. are you affiliated with the republican party?
lezza: would you be willing to bring our guests back to the show after a
week of treatment?
melman: sure.
murmur: these people arent joking, are they?
mogel: these talk shows are so pathetic. dont people realize that
theyre being exploited? the people that appear on these shows
are a collection of social freaks. oh. wait.
gum-smacking pissed-off borough woman 6: aw yew patetic lidda kids an ya
toyis. aw ya do is cawuze trouba fo us wokkin class peeple.
smack well, sawmday, wes gonna show youse what trouba is,
ya little creeps. whaat goes around, cawmes around? ya know
what am sayin, hea?
audience clap clap woo yeah you go blah blah blah
goldey the pimp from pomona: yeah, ya know, dis guys is fags yo, you know?
fo real. hahaha .. yeah.
audience blahh blah blah yackity schmackity
mogel: we publish a zine.
pause
lezza: you what?
mogel: we publish an e-zine called dto. doomed to obscurity.
lezza: you dont hack?
tao: uh. no. not really.
lisa: gene!@ you said you would have real hackers! not a bunch of
frickin publishers!
commercial
perky squeaky girl in dumb brown visor: welcome to burger king! would you
like to try our triple whopper?
yes!@ now you can have that slab of meat you want1@ our triple
whopper is three half-pound all-beef slabs of cholesterol death, topped off
with enough melted cheese to constipate three ecuadorian villages!*
mmm-mm. love that cow.
only 3.99 at participating burger kings now!@
end commercial
lezza: okay. we now have with us dwayne larson, founder of the internet
branch of the cross-dressing ku klux klan. thank you for coming on
the show ..
random angry hip-hop adorned black male: its da camraman!@ its da
camurman!@ she shaved his head an
putta dress on im
lezza: security@* sec-u-ra-teeee!
several black-clad security men start to attack the screaming man
rattle: in the audience oh you gone done it now, honey. mmmhmm.
thats right.
the stage bleachers erupts into violence as the audience members
start to rip the security team to shreds. the grey panthers, the
hairdressers, the bank of unknown professionals the random white people
all begin to attack anything that moves, leaving only the dto crew
unscathed. unscathed loaded down with all the cameras equipment they
can carry
static
white lumps : the day the cabbage cried
by - dead cheese
in a field on a farm in a county in a country far, far away there
lived a cabbage. the cabbage didnt live alone, of course. there were bugs
animals who lived in the field, also. , of course, there were many
hundreds of other cabbages living quite close to this cabbage. however,
this was no ordinary cabbage. this was harold.
harold the cabbage was a smart fellow. he almost always won at all
the little cabbage games the other cabbages were always coming to him for
advice. he ran the local school helped many young cabbages to be all that
they could be .. before the great harvest, of course. yes, harold was quite
a useful cabbage. but, one day, there came a new student to harolds
school.
jeremy had an intelligence that was far superior to any living
cabbage. he was also strong full of vigor, as far as cabbages go. harold
was quite pleased with jeremy. he was happy that some day, there would be a
successor to harolds position. everything was nice until the day jeremy
changed.
jeremy became angry virulent towards the other cabbages. he was
smarter than them he knew it. he was also stronger than most of them he
used this to his advantage. he would reach over grab the other cabbages
by their roots. he would strangle them in this way until they relented.
jeremy was a bad cabbage.
this was too much for harold. he approached jeremy one day told
him of the consequences for his actions. if he did not stop immediately,
jeremy would be uprooted. this was a strong punishment for a cabbage. it
almost certainly meant death.
jeremy saw only one course of action. he would have to kill harold.
he seeked harold out a few days later spoke to him. he was kind gentle.
he spoke of inane, everyday things. he was the old jeremy.
suddenly, jeremy shot a root at harolds head. it pierced through
pained harold to no end. harold screamed a terrifying shriek tried to
alert the other cabbages to his plight. no help was coming, however. all
the cabbages were afraid of jeremy.
while harold was screaming, jeremy reached under the earth plucked
out harolds roots. seeing this, harold screamed even more. he pleaded
with jeremy to let him go, but jeremy would not relent. he pulled out every
one of harolds roots until harold was attached no longer. he was all
alone, out of the earth.
then .. jeremy stopped. he stopped tormenting harold just watched
as harold slowly died. harold had stopped screaming by now. he had given
up all hope was quietly sobbing. jeremy had won.
jeremy ruled the field for the rest of the season, up until the great
harvest. he ruled with an iron leaf made miserable the lives of the
cabbages. this until the great harvest ripped jeremys head from his body
, still quite alive, carried him off to a small diner in ohio.
to this day, the story is kept alive in the field of cabbages. some
say you can still hear the sad sobbing of the doomed harold. the endless
cries .. of a cabbage.
can you find the encoded message?
by - fake scorpion
the man hadnt any faithful companions as the good guys in all the
old movies had. he was a loner in search of a faithful sidekick, a sidekick
which didnt exist in the isolated town that he lived in. hell, the man
would rather be the sidekick if he found a master.
youre a victim of your own lack of soul. you complain about your
loneliness yet you havent faith in anything. you grew up in this world,
you perfected your handwriting to match your im-your-god style, you bought
all the fancy cars, and owned the most powerful people in the biz.
why the sad face?
a constant yearning for love, to be loved to love, still haunts
you, worse than marley or any of the ghosts of past, present, or future
could. youre not living a material life though, youre living 20,000
leagues under the sea.
once again, so why the sad face?
the problem is that youve put yourself on a pedestal so high above
everything else that theres no one in view. you complain about not finding
love, yet you alienated yourself from everyone else. youre howard stern in
your own mind, yet you fucking hate howard stern. youve got the ego.
youre more elite than you think you could be. sadly though, you try to act
as if youre humble. perhaps youre not even aware of the pedestal which
you sit upon.
.. the real me, please :
im thinking about getting old .. i feel immortal completely fucked
up at the same time. maybe there isnt a difference. you cant stop the
thought. i know im fucked up. i know you are too. blisters in the sun.
a man rolled up in a ball
by - juhk
the sun glistened on his back. he had been sitting there for hours.
the sun beating down on his back. the burn getting worse worse. this was
something he felt he needed to do. he could feel the sand blowing past him.
he could feel it in his hair in his fingernails. his body position was
simplistic yet complicated. he was rolled up into a ball with his hands on
his face. he looked like he was crying, but he wasnt. he was thinking.
thinking about his future, what it had in store for him. this was the only
way he could think. he was by himself, isolated from everything that
distracted him from seeing his future. his muscles were finely tuned. you
could see the work strain that had been put on them throughout the first
stage of his life, you could see them perfectly in this sunlight. nothing
could hide in this sunlight, nothing.
an ant began to crawl up his body. it started out at his left toe
gradually began working its way up his leg. he didnt twitch, even though
you could tell the ant really did bother him. he didnt move. he just
simply refused to let the ant bother him. he was at peace now, that was
all that mattered at this moment.
with his back hunched over in his lap, you could hear a single tear
come down his face. you could hear the tear, but nothing else. he was not
whimpering, he was not moaning, all he was doing was shedding a single tear.
the ground began to move under him. at least thats what it seemed
like to him. it began to spin around. confusing him, making him unsure of
what to think. once again he began to think about himself. what made him
up, what controlled him. the ground began to slow down, again. he began
to uncoil himself from the ball position he had been in for over an hour
now. slowly, his back came out of the hunched position it was in. you
could hear his back crack three times. each time it cracked you could hear
a sigh come from the man. the man was now in an upright sitting position.
his hands still in his lap, legs still crossed.
the man looked around to see what was there. nothing. just him.
there was some sand, a light in the distance, but not much else. he
concentrated on that light in the distance for awhile, trying to figure out
what it was. after about eighteen minutes the light began to flicker,
finally dying out. the man now just sat there, in the dark. but after
awhile the light came back on in the distance. he could see a man climbing
down a ladder, obviously just finishing putting the new light bulb in. the
light was of no importance to him anymore, so he began to take his hands out
of his lap began to stretch out his legs. the man laid down now. his
body outstretched on the rough sand, making his body feel almost numb. he
picked up the bottle of an undetermined substance began to take tiny sips.
finally reaching the bottom of the bottle, he seemed content. he wondered
why he after all this time he felt content, asking himself if it was the
bottle he has just finished sipping at, or if it was something else. he
knew what it was, it wasnt the bottle. looking at his hands, now only a
few inches away from his face, he smiled. he got up, grabbed his bottle,
began to walk. walking toward that relitten light in the distance.
power of cock
by - fake scorpion
i want cock.
cock should rule the world.
madonna has twelve cocks. look where she is .. rolling in the dough
able to manipulate the press. yes, this is the power of the cock. i have
probably 1/4 the cock that madonna has. thats equal to about three cocks.
i am not proud.
suck my cock. may i paraphrase? become my submissive.
sunday morning gas station blues
by - styx
he worked in a little booth that happened to be built directly in the
middle of a gas station. unfortunately, a lot of people had vehicles that
used gasoline as fuel in his town, so there were things to be done.
not this morning, though. it was a sunday. most of the people in
town were at the church right across the street. good shepard lutheran
church. they spelled shepherd wrong. silly christians.
the station was empty.
he had the white album on to keep him awake just like he did every
sunday morning. the beatles were a very sunday-morning group to him.
sometimes he would step up to the microphone sing when nobody was around.
there were a lot of things he hated about the booth. most prominent
were the little holes in the bulletproof glass made by late-night b.b. gun
drive-bys. they were pretty unsettling, especially on sunday mornings. the
heater sucked. it only warmed the immediate area around it. the cigarette
cartons were never, ever chilly. he sat on the stool shivered along to
rocky raccoon.
next to the church was the townships municipal buildings. police
station, firehouse, public library .. the whole bit. there was rarely ever
activity there. sometimes a bunch of police cars would gather around the
drivers would talk to each other. he always wondered what they were talking
about. wanna go drive by dairy queen again? okay!
he turned around to make sure the door to the booth was locked. he
did this, on average, about 20 times during an 8-hour shift. he was pretty
insecure. his manager told him horror stories about dead gas-station
attendants. normally, hed feel safe being across the street from the
police station, but they were always at dairy queen.
the station was still empty.
he looked around the lot hoping to see something exciting happening.
nothing. he counted all of his 5-dollar bills for fun. 95.00.
he tried not to think of anything too complicated in the booth, but
sometimes his mind would wander. especially on sunday mornings. whenever
his thought processes went beyond its almost time to leave, he would go
crazy. it was like thoughts took on a solid form bounced around the
little box like bullets. it was pretty smothering. usually it was girl-
stuff. way too complicated for a booth to retain. hed get headaches.
yet, knowing this, his mind wandered off.
he replayed the last nights events over over in his head. he
recognized every fault, every triumph, every truce .. the nights were
battlezones.
a car pulled into the lot. damn.
it was the kind of car he hated the most. the kind with
power-everything. leather seats. buttons everywhere. commercials for them
always involved marbles, silence, a bald man with an accent. man, he just
hated those cars.
the driver began to approach the booth. she looked to be in her
mid-two-hundred thirties. a wrinkled old scrap of a human. she hobbled her
way to the drawer.
she had a big motherfucker of a purse. probably weighed a good
forty pounds. her wrinkled knobs rustled through it searching through the
make-up band-aids for cash. she had about 5 little purses mixed inside
the big purse. it was like the mothership the baby crafts from close
encounters of the third kind. each purse had different forms of money in
them. there was a quarter purse, a dollar bill purse, a nickel purse .. she
finally found what she wanted.
10.00 on pump three. she placed the money in the drawer. her
mouth moved as if she had just eaten a peanut-butter sandwich hadnt fully
digested it all. she was disgusting, he hated her. he nodded to reassure
her that she could get the fuck away from him start pumping the gas into
her stupid car. park avenue it said on the side. shouldve had an added
feature along with it. a sail or wings button. it was a big ugly shiny
leather stupid. he hated it.
he sat back drummed a pen along to cry, baby, cry. the police
cars were gathering again. he lit up another cigarette. there were too
many cigarettes in the ashtray for 9:30 a.m.
a disturbing cackle came from the hag. your pump is broken. i
dont have time for this!
did you hit the white bar that says push here to start?
what?!
the white bar. its directly in the middle of the pump.
her eyes wandered the pump hopelessly. the neurons in her system
werent connecting properly, it seemed, since her hand twitched about the
face of the pump like a chicken with its head cut off.
in the middle of the pump.
the job was mundane as hell. he had been through this countless
times each time brought him closer closer to the edge. she stopped her
neurotic intercourse with the pump seemed relaxed, so he sat back yet
again.
his eyes wandered over to the big, red button. emergency shut-off
- use only when vehicle knocks pump off island. disables station power.
his brain frothed at the cerebrum. if i hit the button, what could she do?
yell? so what. ill just hit it see what happens. maybe shell have a
heart attack drop dead. i dont care. im going to hit it.
she placed the nozzle back into the pump. she was finished. damn.
her little shell hobbled back over to the booth. why is she doing this?
why isnt she getting back into her ugly car? why is she bothering me
again? it was like thoughts bounced around the booth like little bullets.
he had a quick flash of pushing the drawer out as hard as he could. her
ribs would probably snap like twigs. he took a drag of his cigarette.
it only took 9.98.
i guess you want your money back?
yes, please!
there was that peanut-butter effect again. its only two pennies.
sir, im late for church. just give me my money.
you came all the way back to the booth for two pennies?
sir, please, im late!
her ribs would definitely crack, at least.
your church cant spell.
sir, give me my money now!
what?
whats the problem?!
she looked like a florence .. or maybe a maud. nothing.
exasperation was flowing through the bullet-proof glass towards him
like a post-h-bomb shockwave.
why do you want your two pennies back?
theyre mine!
im sure your little penny purse is bursting with copper.
by this point, she was almost to the point of tears. he opened the
register withdrew the two pennies.
here you go. have a nice day, maam. he pushed the drawer towards
her.
she grabbed her coins hobbled off in the same fashion back to her
ugly car. she was obviously shaken. her walking made her appear like she
had bathed herself in peanut-butter hadnt completely washed herself off.
thats all old people were, he figured. some sort of strange peanut-butter
offspring.
revolution 9 its insane clatter poured out from behind him.
he put his cigarette out retied his shoes just to retie his shoes. the
church began to let out.
it sucked when the church let out. he would always get a mass-influx
of middle-aged blonde women in mini-vans with their 7 bratty little kids
that would incessantly fight over who got to pump the gas this week. he
didnt know which was worse - the peanut-butter people or the mini-van
people. it didnt matter. he had his big red button just in case.
the lot wouldnt be empty for much longer. he stepped over to the
microphone pressed the all call button which was loads of fun since it
projected his voice over every speaker in the lot.
fire! fire! someone help! fire!
no reaction. he grabbed a bag of doritos sat back down.
two mini-vans a big gas-hauler pulled in. every sunday, willy
would come drop gas. willy was pretty entertaining for sunday mornings. he
rounded the edge of the booth knocked on the door. the boy opened up.
god damn its chilly outside! you lucky you cozy in dis here box,
yknow, cuz its damn chilly outside!
yep.
so how was your weekend? pick up chicks?!?!
heh. nah. worked, mostly.
aw man, that beat! friday i wanted to go to a dirty bar ya know!
heh heh yeah but i aint found no ride i aint wanna ask my girl for no
ride, ya know, cuz she would give me hell! boy, bein hitched aint fun.
how come?
well you cant be doin those things you like ta do no more, ya know
what im sayin?
like what?
well, you know!! hahahaha!
arent i supposed to sign some papers so you can drop the gas?
damn, boy, you already gone you only, what, 16? 17?
18. the papers?
damn, when i was 18 i be pickin up ch ..
shut up. the papers, willy.
damn. aight. i just be goin out gettin chilly again. its
damn chilly out there, ya know!
yep.
willy left the papers scurried off to do his thing. he liked
willy, actually. always had a smile on his face for no good reason at all.
he admired the guy.
the entourage of mini-van occupants had gathered in front of the
booth waiting to be served. two mothers a total of five screaming
children. he calculated that a swift push of the drawer could probably
render three of the kids unconscious. the mothers, amidst a bunch of
twizzlers! snickers! shouts, paid for the gas hurried off into their
caravans ohell.
the click of a cassette ending filled the booth. his work days were
timed by cassette-clicks cigarettes. hunger already taking over, he
grabbed his lunch out of the small refrigerator in the booth. mom always
left notes in his lunch just like when he was little. he read it in drab
anticipation.
hey hon! heres 2.00, get me a pack of the usual. thats what
she always wrote. just like last sunday.
he went back to the microphone. help! help! im stuck in here
forever im going to suffocate!
no reaction until willy came bumbling from behind the booth.
!@??!?!??!??!??!?!??!
shit. im sorry willy, im just bored.
aw damn, i awmost had a heart attack, boy! shit, at my age anything
makes my heart skip beats! i get bored too, yknow, drivin around all day
going to stations. shit, sometimes i just go honkin the horn just to honk
the horn. know what im sayin?
totally, willy.
you aint just bored, are ya, boy?
no.
i know, i can tell. i been round, ya know. i know when someones
thinkin a lil more than they ought to be thinkin.
willy always sounded like yoda after too many bong hits, but that was
fine.
ysee, things are simple you keep it to yaself. you just go
round being simple to yaself you stay outta trouble nothing aint ever
gonna bug ya. that box you in looks pretty simple. know what im sayin,
boy?
totally, willy. well, he kind of did.
damn, its chilly out here! i best be goin back cause it aint
chilly in the truck! hehehehehe! maybe ill stop by some bar if you know
what im sayin! take care, boy!
you too.
always smiling, that willy.
if i were you id shoot myself
by - sed
somehow you had a sudden fit of gnosis. after living your pitiful
suburban life, you finally got it so quickly. a truth so universal, so
omnipresent, yet you missed it. cmon, take a guess as to what it is.
anal sex causes earths orbit wrong. jesse helms is the product
of sexual union between forrest gump a lizard correct, but thats not
what im talking about. my bolognas first name is o-s-c-a-r nope.
abc sitcoms represent a new height of 20th century intellectual
development uhmmm .. no. this one, super fundamental axiom, more important
then love thy neighbor do as thou wilt gabba gabba hey leggo my
eggo. its if i were you id shoot myself. the one uber-mantra to repeat
whenever you feel crappy. a feel good hit of the year. enjoy it .. or
else.
because, when it comes down to it, there is always someone more
pathetic then you. theres no need for angst. because even if you are the
most pimply, fat, homely, magic playing, computer nerdy, aol using, pearl
jam listening wanker, youll always know there is someone with less hope
then you.
so you cant find this one person to laugh at? everyone around you
kicks your ass at everything? well, get a phonebook. look in the yellow
page for listings of old age homes. go into one. find the most fucking
smelly, depends wearing, apish person. considering the state of rest
homes, theyll most probably be the ones getting their asses kicked by the
nurses. well, see that person? they are unlike you. they have no hope.
alzheimers has rotted away their mind, parkinsons has rotted away their
nervous system, prostate cancer has rotted away their dicks, basically they
are paperweights that can breathe. laugh at the sad little circus geeks.
kick em. laugh again. feel good? i bet you do.
you feel great now. your revitalized. nothing can stop you now.
your the SHIT. you go girl. people bow down to you. cheerleaders offer
you sexual favors. well, those masters of sauerkraut, beer sadisticness,
the germans have a word for what you just did. schadenfraude. it means
joy out of the pity of others. your enjoyment is being exploited from
those less fortunate then you. youre mean. youre pimply, fat, homely,
magic playing, computer nerdy, aol using, pearl jam listening. you have
no hope. if i were you id shoot myself.
.. ill still be laughing at you.
dto spotlight on - creed
creed big dummyhead - in a world of zines, d0odling will never fit in -
neither will creed. he has no will to live, stares at the ceiling
listening to bad music - inxs, smashing pumpkins, sonic youth, urge
overkill, bee gees. are you still reading this? stop. its useless
trash. he writes y0lk, that zine with all the funky titles that
releases like every day. just a big asshole with no writing skill,
but dto pities him, so heres his article.
the uncool kid
by - creed
steve woke up about 12:00pm, as usual. he thought he was pretty cool
for that. later on in the day, hed tell all his friends that he woke up at
2:00pm, they would shake their heads at him get the feeling that he was
fucked up. .. steve knew something that his friends didnt being fucked
up is a lot cooler than it seems.
he knew he was a liar. he knew he did his homework every night,
behaved at home to his parents. the only trouble he REALLY had was
himself : questions like why am i doing this? whats the point? would
come into his head. but he blessed this sort of thought. it only made him
feel more fucked up.
it was saturday .. hooray. by 12:15, steve was fully dressed,
ready to go. he had washed his hair, brushed his teeth, et cetera .. but
no one had to know this. his image presented him as a dirty little
fellow .. he had told all his friends that he hadnt washed his hair in
months. he despised the grunge look, just because he knew it was trendy.
steve wasnt stupid. he was just a liar.
he sat at his computer until 4:00, reading messages hanging out
on irc. he bragged to everyone in zines that he had just woke up, they
shrugged it off as a normality. zines was a tough audience for steve.
around 3:45 his mom came up looked at the screen, which he had just
cleared, embarrassed about what he was talking about .. it wasnt dirty or
anything, it just took away from his image. so it was erased. it never
existed. steve was a good liar.
at 7:00, his girlfriend tina called. he told her how he woke up at
6:00 that afternoon, they just talked for about 3 hours. by 10:00pm, he
started to get depressed, told tina how he wanted to die. but he knew
he didnt really want to die. it was all part of his image. it was
strange - in his image, tina didnt even exist. he was a loser, girls
just didnt dig him.
at 11:00, he stared at the ceiling contemplated life. all he was
was one big lie, he knew it. he didnt care. inside, he was the most
popular kid he knew. he could have all the friends he wanted, because that
was his lifestyle. but he avoided his lifestyle .. he was so cool, he just
couldnt handle it anymore. he turned to lies. oh, how steve lusted for
pity! he was so into it .. he hated compliments! he loved insults! the
image was working!
around 2:00am, he started to get tired. he wondered where the
image was taking him. he knew. it was taking him right down the tubes.
he didnt know why he loved it so much, but it was great! steve fell
asleep, dreamed of turning up the pure rock radio station, which he knew
was pretty popular, but didnt acknowledge it .. taking his dads gun,
screaming FUCK YOU! out his window, pulling the trigger. he woke up
with a great smile.
he knew he was too weak to ever kill himself. but he was glad he had
his image to block those thoughts. all his friends knew he was suicidal.
so in a cheerful manner, secretly, he showered, brushed his teeth, went on
irc, started telling all his friends how he fell asleep at 6:00am ..
the adventures of mbujn zrplouc
by - eerie
mbujn, what is the because nevermind.
secret to life? but
/ why? its possible.
no. / /
mbujn, say yes. because i wont do what
/ but you ask me.
why? its possible. /
no. / /
mbujn, will there because youre using the
be another strip? but room necessary for that
/ why? other strip.
no. /
its possible.
heinous chimera
by - crank
i dislike sex with grandmom, said bob.
he was always a shy child, never pressuring his female friend into
any sort of physical relationship, but that didnt stop grandmom. from the
first moment she laid eyes on him, part of her family that he was, she knew
she had to have him - have him she would. his mother couldnt stop her,
as bobs mother had died six months ago. nor could bobs father become
involved, as he was now residing in six extra-large freezer baggies in
grandmoms downstairs freezer.
where are you, bobby? im ready, she cawed loudly as she dimmed the
light put her foot powder back in the nightstand drawer. she heard
footsteps drawing nearer knew her bobby was on his way. a small head
peered around the doorjamb, followed by a frail but lithe body. why are
you still wearing your school clothes, dear? lay them on the chair there.
bobby did as he was told, soon his naked, prepubescent form was
standing illuminated in the backwash of light from the living room.
grandmom sucked in a deep breath past her receding gums exorbitant amount
of bridgework, beckoned little bob closer with a crooked finger.
bobby had very few things he could honestly say he hated this was
the most powerful symbol of his animosity. the way she cackled as he
touched her saggy flesh, how she stared drooled at his flaccid manhood :
he loathed nothing more. if there were only something he could do to
relieve himself of the burden of sex with grandmom, he would gladly. any
length to travel, any depth to sink, anything to get away from the old
crone.
however, all he could do was sit idly by until the time came when she
would call him from her bedroom. usually, in order to facilitate the entire
process, he would already be naked, having left his clothing in the living
room. the sight of him round the corner completely naked would throw
grandmom into a tizzy, making her juice herself almost into dehydration,
that was one less thing bob would have to accomplish in his daily deplorable
routine of satisfying the wench.
today he was hoping would be different, but it was not. tomorrow, he
knew, things would be exactly the same as today, juxtapositions made almost
flawless. he could not escape the sucking whirlwind that was embodied in
grandmom drew him nearer with every passing day. the only hopes he had
left were that of escape, in order to escape, he prayed for the death of
his last living relative.
standing by the beds edge completely naked, facing his grandmothers
wilting body in particular her drooping breasts capped with spongy pink
aureoles, he felt nothing but hatred shame. the hand of opprobrium forced
down his head. he looked down his own body at his thighs, just beginning to
grow a light fuzz his knees, so wrinkly! his shins his feet the
floor his pet lizard.
lizard! what was she doing out of her cage? he had kept her secretly
for the past three months, feeding her on outdoor crickets whatever vermin
he found in grandmoms laundry hamper, caring for her as he wished prayed
he would someday be cared for. but now, here she was, crawling peacefully
across his grandmoms bedroom floor.
bob looked at the mound of flesh on the bed. she was currently
writhing around making some sort of death rattle, or was it a moan?
regardless, he bent to pick up the wayward reptile just as grandmom opened
her eyes. she looked at bobby through her spread legs. ohh! this is
something new! she gurgled at him. he collected his animal stood,
looking at his relative with a slightly devious eye.
with a flick of his wrist, bob tossed the lizard on to his grandmoms
sagging bosom. at first she thought he was merely touching her a new way,
seeming to finally be getting into the act of sex with grandmom, but when
she burped a moan looked at her breast, expecting to see bobbys mouth, or
bobbys fingers, or even bobbys little wee-wee, all she saw was a reptile.
get it off me! bob mulborne hafada! it is not funny to scare your
grandmom! get it.. she screamed a macabre bleat of pure terror as the
lizard calmly ambulated on her left breast, stopping to lick some of her
sweat with its forked tongue. bob ran out of the room in a mindless frenzy,
intent on exploiting the privilege his grandmom had never allowed him. he
lifted the receiver of the phone.
back in the bedroom still lay grandmom, frozen with horror. the
harmless animal crawled around calmly, looked at her. regaining the use
of her appendages, she moved her trembling right arm slowly towards it
flicked it off her body. she sighed in relief the moment it was gone.
unbeknownst to her, however, was the fact that while indeed
successfully removing the offending creature from her bulk, she had not
cleared it from her bed. bobbys lizard lay at the edge of the bed between
grandmoms spread thighs. moving her scaled head upwards, the little
reptile saw a juicy looking pink worm gently twitching about. she stood
very still on the bed, then lunged for her dinner.
from the kitchen, bob heard a much louder shriek emitting from his
grandmom. he tried to ignore it as he dialed zero for the operator.
please, i need help. connect me with the national child abuse hotline,
quickly! he heard clicks through the earpiece as the operator filled his
request.
grandmom was bathed in sweat, hurting quite a bit. it seemed her
entire body was on fire, burning her, consuming her in flames stemming from
her wrinkled groin. atonement for forcing bobby to do what she felt was a
necessary step in correct child-rearing? possibly, but the agony from her
body was preventing her from thinking about causes. she thrashed around on
the bed.
the petite lizard was determined to have her meal. she pulled
tugged at the worm, sinking her teeth in bracing herself with her back
legs dug into the bedclothes, her front legs upon grandmoms nether lips.
bobby heard ringing. a womans voice came on the line. trying to
sound adult through his tears, he quickly but haltingly sobbed his story to
the compassionate sounding woman on the other end of the line. when he
finished, there was a pause, an uncomfortably long silence. then, a cold
voice came though to him.
you think thats different from any other grandmother-grandson house
in america? you, apparently, just werent mature enough to handle it
properly. i suggest you grow up do what youre told, or ill send someone
after you believe me, you wont have nearly as pleasant a time as you are
now.
bobby hung up the phone slowly returned to his prone grandmother in
her bedroom, feeling he could never raise his head again.
warez da warez?
by - mogel
date: 6:58 am wed aug 9, 1995 number : 151 of 154
from: freedom base : swearing circle
to : mogel refer : 150
subj: re: you replies: 1
stat: normal origin : local
first of all!!!
fuck you mogel....you stupid SHIT lamer!!! you have no fuckin clue what i
do...so before i find your phuckin housze...letz make some things straight!
you fuckin lamer!!...first...i dont sit my fuckin asz on here all day you
stupid bastard@!....i start transferz in the goddamn morning and get them at
night!!...i dont sit here all day you mutherfuck shitnozed lamer!@...shut
the phuck up....and yez...i did d.l. 600megz...pluz i got 90megz thiz
week!,,..i have acs. on topb boards you fucker...wehere the fuck do you
stand?...i have uploaded since i started bbsing for the last 7 months over
1.6gigz..fuck you lamer!!...so if i ever here you mocking mei will rip
your goddamn puny lyin tounge and feed it to you you stupid worthless
crusty creviced mutherfuckin dormant piece of SHIT!!!....you better watch
yer asz from now on!!......you are nothingyou are a lamerlamerz
deserve to die!!..you stupid phuck up!!! and yez,...i luv my warez....and so
does about a million other people in this area..maybe not people on here
because of their lack of exposure...but...thats their problem....trust
me...messz with me...you are done for!!!
-- freedom -- l.s.d.95!
write about me...automessag me....i will urine box you for good!!!
swearing circle 151 of 154 reading :
scenes of the common the ephemere, part one
by - eerie
this is a true story.
the other day, aliens landed on my street and knocked on my door.
i said to myself : what the fuck are those aliens doing here at fucking
three am?!?! however - it wasnt three pm.
the clock showed : thirty hours five halfs. so i figured :
might as well see what those aliens want.
i opened the door.
hi, aliens.
hi, david. um, we were just passing by, cuz well, uhm.. wed
like to get stuff, yknow.. uhmm ..
uh, its late.
were very sorry.
okay, come on in.
thanks, david.
they went to my room. the alien with a leg on his back said : so
what do you have, man?
well, theres this one. you can smell it, its all good.
the alien put the stuff inside a pocket on his belly said : true.
it does smell good! then he removed the stuff from the belly pocket gave
it back to me said : but do you have something else?
i said : theres this stuff. its cheaper obviously not as good
as the other one.
well, i havent got paid yet. ill have my paycheck this
putchunday.
putchunday?
uh, well, on our planet, weeks have 17 days, so you figure we had
to find kooky names for those extra days.
makes sense. so whats the deal?
well, id pay you, like, this putchunday.
bud, you already owe me 34 spatiodollars.
yeah, i know, i mean, i thought i was going to get paid this
week but-
im not gonna sell you any SHIT if you dont have the money.
the other 3 aliens look like theyre very bored.
well, lets see .. i have 10 spatios. what do you have for that?
um, what about 1.5 g of that cheap stuff?
we got a deal. alright, heres the money. give the stuff.
i take the stuff outta my bag. one of the aliens says : what kind
of computer is this?
uh, its a 286.
hey, man, i got a pentium last week. it rocks. you should get
one.
i have no money .. this puter is alright for me.
uh-huh ..
i give the stuff to the alien that has a leg on his back. they all
leave the apartment, leaving me wondering how will i get to change those
spatiodollars into real canuck bucks.
clock shows : fucking three am.
morality : no wonder why i stopped selling stuff.
androgynous mind
by - fake scorpion
sometimes as a funny joke
ill go on phonesex pretend im a girl.
the guys will flood me with messages like
m4f:a@alaska.net with a cock rubbing your face
i always respond with the same words,
do you like sex travel? if so, fuck off.
i sit back i have to smile,
even though it makes me sad to be a man.
sometimes as a funny joke
ill go on lesbian pretend im a girl.
the girls will flood me with messages like
m4f:jen@netcom.com can i fist you?
i always respond with the same words,
what do you call 500 gay women? a militia etheridge.
i sit back i have to smile,
even though it makes me sad to be a woman.
you crazy bastard!
by - mogel
enchanted by his intensity, she stared deeper into his deep blue
eyes. suddenly, he tore into his food, the greasy crumbs of brea
immediately clinging to the sides of his lip.
i was thinking about killing myself making it look like an
accident, he started with a grin, an uneasy tone that made him almost
believable.
IMMEDIATELY she blurted out, well, it wont look like an accident
now that youve told me.
he grinned even deeper with her sharp reply. you know, i had a
dream last night that vampira from ed wood followed me home forced me to
have sex with her.
thats odd, she said, picking slowly at her fries, was she wearing
an angora sweater?
no, she was wearing a three-piece business suit, of all things.
well, that was before she got all naked. his finger began tapping the
table nervously. say, do you ever feel like winston smith from 1984?
not really.
you ever spend waaaay too much time thinking about where they make
those stupid little plastic thingies that they put on shoe laces?
well, not really. she said, mildly confused. she dipped her fry
into the heaping of ketchup that she had poured all over the corner of her
cheeseburger wrapping. he stopped tapping his finger began whistling the
gilligans island theme song.
cats suck!@ he blurted out rather loudly.
i kind of like cats, she retorted. bedazzled, his eyes turned
angry.
have you ever wished you were a superhero? i mean, look at those
guys, heres a guy that can fly.
that would be pretty cool, she said a bit under-enthusiastically.
exactly!@ he proclaimed, .. im not talking about those marvel
comics characters either. to those guys, if you could fly you were like the
janitor of the super heroes. everyone could fly. that was a cinch. the
average guy worried about keeping up his reputation by how many cities he
could wreck in a single punch. she wondered where he was going with all
this. if you were to have ONE superpower in the world, any ONE power, what
would it be?
oh, i dont know. i bet invisibility would be picked a lot.
perhaps, he noted, but i betcha if you thought long hard about
it, whatever power you chose to have would be very fitting to your
personality. at this point, even he noticed things were getting a little
too awkward in the old eight-year-old mcdonalds where the two had met for a
lunch date. there was no one else in the place, only one visible
salesperson was half-asleep at the register. aquaman was such a dork.
she had no idea what he was babbling on about, it seemed random
enough. she figured shed play along. after an awkward silence of two
minutes passed she looked up at him with more energy than she had displayed
all day.
ive got it!@ she yelled.
oh? he remarked with a grin.
id like to talk to the animals.
bahahahahaha .. the animals?!@? why?!@?
well, it all started with the fall of western civilization, i
think.
uh .. i like fries. he remarked, grabbing a handful stuffing it
into his mouth imitating the cookie monster gratuitously. YOM, YOM. I
LIKE FRIES.
she giggled.
please continue, he said. the diet pepsi is on the edge of its
seat waiting for your explanation.
animals dont reflect. they dont over-analyse. they dont
bullshit. theyre PURE emotion. that fuckin rules. she pronounced. his
eyes looked around nervously.
hmm.
so what would your power ONE super power be, huh?
me? id probably have a penis that could leap tall buildings in a
single bound.
oh. how typical.
thats ironic.
what is?
see, he began, i have this big pounding feeling in my head telling
me that im nothing. that im stupid im not one of those chosen
genius-people im just some flaming idiot. ive been in this mcdonalds
a million times ill probably return here a million times.
let me guess. people tell you youre witty, smart, cool, cute
all that stuff - you think theyre all full of SHIT. you cant live up
to that image cause you think its complete bullshit.
more or less. im peter pan, the boy who never grew up. im the
gingerbread man, theres a million of me.
were all unique twisted artists in our own ways.
are those ways pathetic?
if you want to think they are. i like to think of that stuff as a
load of bullshit though. everything around us is as real as we want it to
be. tossing a slinky down the stairs can be an art form.
do you mean stupefying yourself?
what i MEAN is - make yourself a froggie.
huh?
you dont need to over-think. do whats common sense, in your
heart.
frogs do all that?!?
sure.
.. to that, they kissed, accidentally toppling over a 12-pack of
chicken mc-nuggets onto his lap.
sugar - condiments chapter 1/2
by - murmur
pour some sugar on me, cmon thrill me up. the mating call of the
incredibly smelly porfkinelli. porfkinelli are native to madagascar,
mozambique, tanganyika, south africa, lesotho, swaziland, shabbona, the
bronx. they have also been known to migrate as far as vladivostok but this
claim has not been officially accepted. anyways porfkinelli are a rare
breed, a rare breed indeed. with a gestation period of 17 years a life
span of 14 years on the average, the brave porfkinelli must avoid poachers
hungry for their beautiful coal coats. luckily for porfkinelli they are
liable to give birth to up to 77 chewbies at once, greatly expanding the
population. sadly, this causes inbreeding, which has further depleted the
once flourishing bartering porfkinelli population.
moral : im gonna get out of hell in my dodge, my freedom made out of steel.
ode to a pancake
by - eightball
my little pancake, forming on the grill.
i made you from batter, made sure you wouldnt spill.
oh, my dearest pancake, how i love you so!
i look down at you and could never, never say no.
sitting in the syrup, topped with bits of honey.
my favorite little pancake, youre worth more than money.
spread with lots of butter, graced with some whipped cream.
to change you current form is something i would never dream.
so much better than french toast, waffles are a joke.
when i see my perfect pancake, i wont share with other folk.
just a taste, nothing more - youre so very sweet.
i love my precious pancake - its better than any meat.
please direct all dto correspondence towards - doomed@voicenet.com
c copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved.
better living through sheer idiocy a whole lot of free time.
iiiiii iiii iiii iiiii iiiii
!!!! !!!! iiiiii !!!!! !!!!!
Yss YssY YssY
+ youll look back in a few years realize youve wasted what shouldve +
+ been the best times of your life on colory blocks warez. - nitro-187 +
immunity integral
by - crank
simpered salaciously slew
the pernicious prurient putrescence
unabashed yet unrequited unscathed
coerced into cognizant complacency
malignant misanthropic ministrations
the facetious facade of obfuscation
while deplorable dementia is dissipating
i chortle at the cornucopia of connotations.
this is where the editorial goes
by - murmur
look@! im writing the editorial this month@!@ i must be one
FUCKING COOL GUY.
anyways here she is, dto issue six. and a fine issue she is, too.
what im sure everyone will notice about this issue is the fact that its
almost all fiction. and if you wouldnt have noticed it, you probably
wouldnt notice that ketchup stain on your sweater either. HA! made you
look@!
and now its time for dto news.
tonights top story: you wanted it, you got it. the dto homebase, that
stupid place is now up. mogel has one of the most elite boards of all
time and anyone can call. that stupid place can be reached by modem at
215-985-0462.
following up on our main story from last issue, black francis has indeed
left dto. dont speculate, get the facts for yourself by calling that
stupid place and downloading his faq on why he left dto. we do hope he
will write for us once again in the near future, however. so far as his
position as head editor and president goes this has been dealt with as
well. mogel assumes the head editor responsibilities with more help from
murmur on submissions. shadow tao has officially been named co-
president of dto productions as well. this makes the executive staff
like we really call it that: mogel, eerie, murmur, shadow tao.
in other news, there have been further developments in the hacking case
involving dto writer neko. hes been officially charged with multiple
counts, including phone fraud and computer tampering, and faces a
maximum of a 3,000 fine and a year in juvenile detention. dont expect
him to get that stiff a sentence, but dont be surprised if neko and the
other four arrested are hung out to dry as examples. for more information
call that stupid place or find a dto writer on irc and nab 815BUST1.ZIP,
including all of the articles and editorials surrounding the case from
the rockford register star.
our final news item this evening is definitely a human interest story:
pong. but who needs news to talk about pong?
if you dont know yet, dto productions is releasing another zine
for your reading pleasure, and that zine is indeed pong. pong features
more of the editorial-column nature pieces than dto and also includes
interviews and is expanding to include music pieces. the big thing we at
pong are trying to do right now is get in contact with bands, any bands,
that play any kind of music. send us a demo or official release, and we
will not only give you a writeup in pong, but also give you airplay on
our radio show this radio show would be goat-spiel, run by shadow tao and
myself. for more information or to acquire pong, email me at
murmur@rworld.com or email me on that stupid place. or, of course, look
for me on petrock on irc.
all and all, dto has become a pretty exciting endeavor. although
we were lagging a bit for submissions, theyve picked back up and we
already have a nucleus to build around for dto number seven. as always,
we encourage submissions and feedback from new faces, and the best place
to send feedback to is doomed@voicenet.com. please comply or well eat
your children.
this here editorial has now clocked in at little over a page, so
guess what? its done. enjoy the finest dto has to offer. either that,
or dont, and someone will hack your ears off.
doomed to obscurity six all contents therein ..
1 - immunity integral
by - crank
2 - this is where the editorial goes
by - murmur
3 - doomed to obscurity four all contents therein ..
by - mogel
4 - its live
by - shadow tao
5 - white lumps : the day the cabbage cried
by - dead cheese
6 - can you find the encoded message?
by - fake scorpion
7 - a man rolled up like a ball
by - juhk
8 - power of cock
by - fake scorpion
9 - sunday morning gas station blues
by - styx
10 - if i were you id shoot myself
by - sed
11 - the uncool kid
by - creed
12 - the adventures of mbujn zrplouc
by - eerie
13 - heinous chimera
by - crank
14 - warez da warez?
by - mogel
15 - scenes of the common the ephemere, part one
by - eerie
16 - androgynous mind
by - fake scorpion
17 - you crazy bastard!
by - mogel
18 - sugar - condiments chapter 1/2
by - murmur
19 - ode to a pancake
by - eightball
its live
by - shadow tao
.. welcome to the very first *live* lezza show ever!
audience : clap clap yay woo
lezza: hello. today, we explore a subject that has become more more
important to people everywhere. the digital underground. in
cities around the nation, kids are falling prey to the lures of
fast living modem jacking ..
panel
tao: whats modem jacking?
mogel: i dunno.
murmur: pavement ist rad!@
eerie: a bike? what?
lezza: todays panel is an underground group of kids who write about
jacking into the information superdriveway. please welcome the
inner circle of dto.
audience claps, camera focuses on mogel
lezza: please welcome our first guest, the head editor of dto, model.
audience claps half-assed
mogel: MOGEL.
lezza: what? moggeil?
mogel: mogel.
lezza: mmhm. now you say that you have connections in the underground all
over the country?
mogel: I LIKE SOUP*@!
lezza: what? what does soup have to do with it?
mogel: YOU ARE A SEXY WOMAN. TOUCH ME.
lezza: do you think that hacking is wrong?
mogel: well, it serves a purpose.
murmur: do you know what hacking is, even?
lezza: shure. i saw hackers ** the net.
m0rph: at home pffffffftt!@ buhahahahahahaha ..
lezza: but exactly what do you do when youre exploring the underground?
mogel: i eat chips. sometimes i eat chee-tos, but they get the keyboard
all orangy.
tao: i hate that.
eerie: tree@
lezza: audience? any questions? translated: release the hyenas!@
angry white trash 4: yew know where i come from we call people like you
nerds!@
tentative audience clapping
eerie: the fifth grade, it was hard on you?
redeemed poor black woman 2: sob ive been off welfare for two years i
have three kids six jobs sob i dont
do nothin like that!@@ sob
loud audience clapping hooting
murmur: yeah, that fifth grade is an evil place.
self-righteous upstanding-christian rich white trash brat: i am glad to say
that there are teens out there that are responsible do not
do this kind of thing to others! people like you are a
menace to our society!
tao: i cant believe i didnt see it before!@ lets lock up all those
evil h4q3rs!@ we honestly cant tell you what theyre doing wrong!
we cant figure out how theyre hurting us!@ let ignorance
paranoia be our guide81!! thats the ticket! let the media
sensationalists help us find who to lynch!@ well fill our
prisons with those mad hackers!@ dont dare spend time worrying
about pedophiles rapists!@ god protect my credit card@
jesus hide my password@!**
mogel: tao. youre spitting on people.
awkward pause
tao: oh. um. sorry.
lezza: our next guest is experienced with the treatment of people like our
panel. please welcome cyberdoctor cybermelman.
murmur: um. your name is actually cybermelman?
melman: ignoring murmur thank you for letting me on your show today, miss
gibbons. at our cyberclinic, i treat people who have succumbed to
the effects of the hiding in the caves of the internet underground.
mogel: caves? wha?
eerie: you need a cyberenema.
8ball: backstage d00d@! dont do it@
lezza: would you be able to treat our guests here?
melman: sure. our process is a simple one. we take the patient into
seclusion try to de-program the teachings of the underground out
of them.
murmur: .. like will.
tao: .. independent thought.
mogel: .. are you affiliated with the republican party?
lezza: would you be willing to bring our guests back to the show after a
week of treatment?
melman: sure.
murmur: these people arent joking, are they?
mogel: these talk shows are so pathetic. dont people realize that
theyre being exploited? the people that appear on these shows
are a collection of social freaks. oh. wait.
gum-smacking pissed-off borough woman 6: aw yew patetic lidda kids an ya
toyis. aw ya do is cawuze trouba fo us wokkin class peeple.
smack well, sawmday, wes gonna show youse what trouba is,
ya little creeps. whaat goes around, cawmes around? ya know
what am sayin, hea?
audience clap clap woo yeah you go blah blah blah
goldey the pimp from pomona: yeah, ya know, dis guys is fags yo, you know?
fo real. hahaha .. yeah.
audience blahh blah blah yackity schmackity
mogel: we publish a zine.
pause
lezza: you what?
mogel: we publish an e-zine called dto. doomed to obscurity.
lezza: you dont hack?
tao: uh. no. not really.
lisa: gene!@ you said you would have real hackers! not a bunch of
frickin publishers!
commercial
perky squeaky girl in dumb brown visor: welcome to burger king! would you
like to try our triple whopper?
yes!@ now you can have that slab of meat you want1@ our triple
whopper is three half-pound all-beef slabs of cholesterol death, topped off
with enough melted cheese to constipate three ecuadorian villages!*
mmm-mm. love that cow.
only 3.99 at participating burger kings now!@
end commercial
lezza: okay. we now have with us dwayne larson, founder of the internet
branch of the cross-dressing ku klux klan. thank you for coming on
the show ..
random angry hip-hop adorned black male: its da camraman!@ its da
camurman!@ she shaved his head an
putta dress on im
lezza: security@* sec-u-ra-teeee!
several black-clad security men start to attack the screaming man
rattle: in the audience oh you gone done it now, honey. mmmhmm.
thats right.
the stage bleachers erupts into violence as the audience members
start to rip the security team to shreds. the grey panthers, the
hairdressers, the bank of unknown professionals the random white people
all begin to attack anything that moves, leaving only the dto crew
unscathed. unscathed loaded down with all the cameras equipment they
can carry
static
white lumps : the day the cabbage cried
by - dead cheese
in a field on a farm in a county in a country far, far away there
lived a cabbage. the cabbage didnt live alone, of course. there were bugs
animals who lived in the field, also. , of course, there were many
hundreds of other cabbages living quite close to this cabbage. however,
this was no ordinary cabbage. this was harold.
harold the cabbage was a smart fellow. he almost always won at all
the little cabbage games the other cabbages were always coming to him for
advice. he ran the local school helped many young cabbages to be all that
they could be .. before the great harvest, of course. yes, harold was quite
a useful cabbage. but, one day, there came a new student to harolds
school.
jeremy had an intelligence that was far superior to any living
cabbage. he was also strong full of vigor, as far as cabbages go. harold
was quite pleased with jeremy. he was happy that some day, there would be a
successor to harolds position. everything was nice until the day jeremy
changed.
jeremy became angry virulent towards the other cabbages. he was
smarter than them he knew it. he was also stronger than most of them he
used this to his advantage. he would reach over grab the other cabbages
by their roots. he would strangle them in this way until they relented.
jeremy was a bad cabbage.
this was too much for harold. he approached jeremy one day told
him of the consequences for his actions. if he did not stop immediately,
jeremy would be uprooted. this was a strong punishment for a cabbage. it
almost certainly meant death.
jeremy saw only one course of action. he would have to kill harold.
he seeked harold out a few days later spoke to him. he was kind gentle.
he spoke of inane, everyday things. he was the old jeremy.
suddenly, jeremy shot a root at harolds head. it pierced through
pained harold to no end. harold screamed a terrifying shriek tried to
alert the other cabbages to his plight. no help was coming, however. all
the cabbages were afraid of jeremy.
while harold was screaming, jeremy reached under the earth plucked
out harolds roots. seeing this, harold screamed even more. he pleaded
with jeremy to let him go, but jeremy would not relent. he pulled out every
one of harolds roots until harold was attached no longer. he was all
alone, out of the earth.
then .. jeremy stopped. he stopped tormenting harold just watched
as harold slowly died. harold had stopped screaming by now. he had given
up all hope was quietly sobbing. jeremy had won.
jeremy ruled the field for the rest of the season, up until the great
harvest. he ruled with an iron leaf made miserable the lives of the
cabbages. this until the great harvest ripped jeremys head from his body
, still quite alive, carried him off to a small diner in ohio.
to this day, the story is kept alive in the field of cabbages. some
say you can still hear the sad sobbing of the doomed harold. the endless
cries .. of a cabbage.
can you find the encoded message?
by - fake scorpion
the man hadnt any faithful companions as the good guys in all the
old movies had. he was a loner in search of a faithful sidekick, a sidekick
which didnt exist in the isolated town that he lived in. hell, the man
would rather be the sidekick if he found a master.
youre a victim of your own lack of soul. you complain about your
loneliness yet you havent faith in anything. you grew up in this world,
you perfected your handwriting to match your im-your-god style, you bought
all the fancy cars, and owned the most powerful people in the biz.
why the sad face?
a constant yearning for love, to be loved to love, still haunts
you, worse than marley or any of the ghosts of past, present, or future
could. youre not living a material life though, youre living 20,000
leagues under the sea.
once again, so why the sad face?
the problem is that youve put yourself on a pedestal so high above
everything else that theres no one in view. you complain about not finding
love, yet you alienated yourself from everyone else. youre howard stern in
your own mind, yet you fucking hate howard stern. youve got the ego.
youre more elite than you think you could be. sadly though, you try to act
as if youre humble. perhaps youre not even aware of the pedestal which
you sit upon.
.. the real me, please :
im thinking about getting old .. i feel immortal completely fucked
up at the same time. maybe there isnt a difference. you cant stop the
thought. i know im fucked up. i know you are too. blisters in the sun.
a man rolled up in a ball
by - juhk
the sun glistened on his back. he had been sitting there for hours.
the sun beating down on his back. the burn getting worse worse. this was
something he felt he needed to do. he could feel the sand blowing past him.
he could feel it in his hair in his fingernails. his body position was
simplistic yet complicated. he was rolled up into a ball with his hands on
his face. he looked like he was crying, but he wasnt. he was thinking.
thinking about his future, what it had in store for him. this was the only
way he could think. he was by himself, isolated from everything that
distracted him from seeing his future. his muscles were finely tuned. you
could see the work strain that had been put on them throughout the first
stage of his life, you could see them perfectly in this sunlight. nothing
could hide in this sunlight, nothing.
an ant began to crawl up his body. it started out at his left toe
gradually began working its way up his leg. he didnt twitch, even though
you could tell the ant really did bother him. he didnt move. he just
simply refused to let the ant bother him. he was at peace now, that was
all that mattered at this moment.
with his back hunched over in his lap, you could hear a single tear
come down his face. you could hear the tear, but nothing else. he was not
whimpering, he was not moaning, all he was doing was shedding a single tear.
the ground began to move under him. at least thats what it seemed
like to him. it began to spin around. confusing him, making him unsure of
what to think. once again he began to think about himself. what made him
up, what controlled him. the ground began to slow down, again. he began
to uncoil himself from the ball position he had been in for over an hour
now. slowly, his back came out of the hunched position it was in. you
could hear his back crack three times. each time it cracked you could hear
a sigh come from the man. the man was now in an upright sitting position.
his hands still in his lap, legs still crossed.
the man looked around to see what was there. nothing. just him.
there was some sand, a light in the distance, but not much else. he
concentrated on that light in the distance for awhile, trying to figure out
what it was. after about eighteen minutes the light began to flicker,
finally dying out. the man now just sat there, in the dark. but after
awhile the light came back on in the distance. he could see a man climbing
down a ladder, obviously just finishing putting the new light bulb in. the
light was of no importance to him anymore, so he began to take his hands out
of his lap began to stretch out his legs. the man laid down now. his
body outstretched on the rough sand, making his body feel almost numb. he
picked up the bottle of an undetermined substance began to take tiny sips.
finally reaching the bottom of the bottle, he seemed content. he wondered
why he after all this time he felt content, asking himself if it was the
bottle he has just finished sipping at, or if it was something else. he
knew what it was, it wasnt the bottle. looking at his hands, now only a
few inches away from his face, he smiled. he got up, grabbed his bottle,
began to walk. walking toward that relitten light in the distance.
power of cock
by - fake scorpion
i want cock.
cock should rule the world.
madonna has twelve cocks. look where she is .. rolling in the dough
able to manipulate the press. yes, this is the power of the cock. i have
probably 1/4 the cock that madonna has. thats equal to about three cocks.
i am not proud.
suck my cock. may i paraphrase? become my submissive.
sunday morning gas station blues
by - styx
he worked in a little booth that happened to be built directly in the
middle of a gas station. unfortunately, a lot of people had vehicles that
used gasoline as fuel in his town, so there were things to be done.
not this morning, though. it was a sunday. most of the people in
town were at the church right across the street. good shepard lutheran
church. they spelled shepherd wrong. silly christians.
the station was empty.
he had the white album on to keep him awake just like he did every
sunday morning. the beatles were a very sunday-morning group to him.
sometimes he would step up to the microphone sing when nobody was around.
there were a lot of things he hated about the booth. most prominent
were the little holes in the bulletproof glass made by late-night b.b. gun
drive-bys. they were pretty unsettling, especially on sunday mornings. the
heater sucked. it only warmed the immediate area around it. the cigarette
cartons were never, ever chilly. he sat on the stool shivered along to
rocky raccoon.
next to the church was the townships municipal buildings. police
station, firehouse, public library .. the whole bit. there was rarely ever
activity there. sometimes a bunch of police cars would gather around the
drivers would talk to each other. he always wondered what they were talking
about. wanna go drive by dairy queen again? okay!
he turned around to make sure the door to the booth was locked. he
did this, on average, about 20 times during an 8-hour shift. he was pretty
insecure. his manager told him horror stories about dead gas-station
attendants. normally, hed feel safe being across the street from the
police station, but they were always at dairy queen.
the station was still empty.
he looked around the lot hoping to see something exciting happening.
nothing. he counted all of his 5-dollar bills for fun. 95.00.
he tried not to think of anything too complicated in the booth, but
sometimes his mind would wander. especially on sunday mornings. whenever
his thought processes went beyond its almost time to leave, he would go
crazy. it was like thoughts took on a solid form bounced around the
little box like bullets. it was pretty smothering. usually it was girl-
stuff. way too complicated for a booth to retain. hed get headaches.
yet, knowing this, his mind wandered off.
he replayed the last nights events over over in his head. he
recognized every fault, every triumph, every truce .. the nights were
battlezones.
a car pulled into the lot. damn.
it was the kind of car he hated the most. the kind with
power-everything. leather seats. buttons everywhere. commercials for them
always involved marbles, silence, a bald man with an accent. man, he just
hated those cars.
the driver began to approach the booth. she looked to be in her
mid-two-hundred thirties. a wrinkled old scrap of a human. she hobbled her
way to the drawer.
she had a big motherfucker of a purse. probably weighed a good
forty pounds. her wrinkled knobs rustled through it searching through the
make-up band-aids for cash. she had about 5 little purses mixed inside
the big purse. it was like the mothership the baby crafts from close
encounters of the third kind. each purse had different forms of money in
them. there was a quarter purse, a dollar bill purse, a nickel purse .. she
finally found what she wanted.
10.00 on pump three. she placed the money in the drawer. her
mouth moved as if she had just eaten a peanut-butter sandwich hadnt fully
digested it all. she was disgusting, he hated her. he nodded to reassure
her that she could get the fuck away from him start pumping the gas into
her stupid car. park avenue it said on the side. shouldve had an added
feature along with it. a sail or wings button. it was a big ugly shiny
leather stupid. he hated it.
he sat back drummed a pen along to cry, baby, cry. the police
cars were gathering again. he lit up another cigarette. there were too
many cigarettes in the ashtray for 9:30 a.m.
a disturbing cackle came from the hag. your pump is broken. i
dont have time for this!
did you hit the white bar that says push here to start?
what?!
the white bar. its directly in the middle of the pump.
her eyes wandered the pump hopelessly. the neurons in her system
werent connecting properly, it seemed, since her hand twitched about the
face of the pump like a chicken with its head cut off.
in the middle of the pump.
the job was mundane as hell. he had been through this countless
times each time brought him closer closer to the edge. she stopped her
neurotic intercourse with the pump seemed relaxed, so he sat back yet
again.
his eyes wandered over to the big, red button. emergency shut-off
- use only when vehicle knocks pump off island. disables station power.
his brain frothed at the cerebrum. if i hit the button, what could she do?
yell? so what. ill just hit it see what happens. maybe shell have a
heart attack drop dead. i dont care. im going to hit it.
she placed the nozzle back into the pump. she was finished. damn.
her little shell hobbled back over to the booth. why is she doing this?
why isnt she getting back into her ugly car? why is she bothering me
again? it was like thoughts bounced around the booth like little bullets.
he had a quick flash of pushing the drawer out as hard as he could. her
ribs would probably snap like twigs. he took a drag of his cigarette.
it only took 9.98.
i guess you want your money back?
yes, please!
there was that peanut-butter effect again. its only two pennies.
sir, im late for church. just give me my money.
you came all the way back to the booth for two pennies?
sir, please, im late!
her ribs would definitely crack, at least.
your church cant spell.
sir, give me my money now!
what?
whats the problem?!
she looked like a florence .. or maybe a maud. nothing.
exasperation was flowing through the bullet-proof glass towards him
like a post-h-bomb shockwave.
why do you want your two pennies back?
theyre mine!
im sure your little penny purse is bursting with copper.
by this point, she was almost to the point of tears. he opened the
register withdrew the two pennies.
here you go. have a nice day, maam. he pushed the drawer towards
her.
she grabbed her coins hobbled off in the same fashion back to her
ugly car. she was obviously shaken. her walking made her appear like she
had bathed herself in peanut-butter hadnt completely washed herself off.
thats all old people were, he figured. some sort of strange peanut-butter
offspring.
revolution 9 its insane clatter poured out from behind him.
he put his cigarette out retied his shoes just to retie his shoes. the
church began to let out.
it sucked when the church let out. he would always get a mass-influx
of middle-aged blonde women in mini-vans with their 7 bratty little kids
that would incessantly fight over who got to pump the gas this week. he
didnt know which was worse - the peanut-butter people or the mini-van
people. it didnt matter. he had his big red button just in case.
the lot wouldnt be empty for much longer. he stepped over to the
microphone pressed the all call button which was loads of fun since it
projected his voice over every speaker in the lot.
fire! fire! someone help! fire!
no reaction. he grabbed a bag of doritos sat back down.
two mini-vans a big gas-hauler pulled in. every sunday, willy
would come drop gas. willy was pretty entertaining for sunday mornings. he
rounded the edge of the booth knocked on the door. the boy opened up.
god damn its chilly outside! you lucky you cozy in dis here box,
yknow, cuz its damn chilly outside!
yep.
so how was your weekend? pick up chicks?!?!
heh. nah. worked, mostly.
aw man, that beat! friday i wanted to go to a dirty bar ya know!
heh heh yeah but i aint found no ride i aint wanna ask my girl for no
ride, ya know, cuz she would give me hell! boy, bein hitched aint fun.
how come?
well you cant be doin those things you like ta do no more, ya know
what im sayin?
like what?
well, you know!! hahahaha!
arent i supposed to sign some papers so you can drop the gas?
damn, boy, you already gone you only, what, 16? 17?
18. the papers?
damn, when i was 18 i be pickin up ch ..
shut up. the papers, willy.
damn. aight. i just be goin out gettin chilly again. its
damn chilly out there, ya know!
yep.
willy left the papers scurried off to do his thing. he liked
willy, actually. always had a smile on his face for no good reason at all.
he admired the guy.
the entourage of mini-van occupants had gathered in front of the
booth waiting to be served. two mothers a total of five screaming
children. he calculated that a swift push of the drawer could probably
render three of the kids unconscious. the mothers, amidst a bunch of
twizzlers! snickers! shouts, paid for the gas hurried off into their
caravans ohell.
the click of a cassette ending filled the booth. his work days were
timed by cassette-clicks cigarettes. hunger already taking over, he
grabbed his lunch out of the small refrigerator in the booth. mom always
left notes in his lunch just like when he was little. he read it in drab
anticipation.
hey hon! heres 2.00, get me a pack of the usual. thats what
she always wrote. just like last sunday.
he went back to the microphone. help! help! im stuck in here
forever im going to suffocate!
no reaction until willy came bumbling from behind the booth.
!@??!?!??!??!??!?!??!
shit. im sorry willy, im just bored.
aw damn, i awmost had a heart attack, boy! shit, at my age anything
makes my heart skip beats! i get bored too, yknow, drivin around all day
going to stations. shit, sometimes i just go honkin the horn just to honk
the horn. know what im sayin?
totally, willy.
you aint just bored, are ya, boy?
no.
i know, i can tell. i been round, ya know. i know when someones
thinkin a lil more than they ought to be thinkin.
willy always sounded like yoda after too many bong hits, but that was
fine.
ysee, things are simple you keep it to yaself. you just go
round being simple to yaself you stay outta trouble nothing aint ever
gonna bug ya. that box you in looks pretty simple. know what im sayin,
boy?
totally, willy. well, he kind of did.
damn, its chilly out here! i best be goin back cause it aint
chilly in the truck! hehehehehe! maybe ill stop by some bar if you know
what im sayin! take care, boy!
you too.
always smiling, that willy.
if i were you id shoot myself
by - sed
somehow you had a sudden fit of gnosis. after living your pitiful
suburban life, you finally got it so quickly. a truth so universal, so
omnipresent, yet you missed it. cmon, take a guess as to what it is.
anal sex causes earths orbit wrong. jesse helms is the product
of sexual union between forrest gump a lizard correct, but thats not
what im talking about. my bolognas first name is o-s-c-a-r nope.
abc sitcoms represent a new height of 20th century intellectual
development uhmmm .. no. this one, super fundamental axiom, more important
then love thy neighbor do as thou wilt gabba gabba hey leggo my
eggo. its if i were you id shoot myself. the one uber-mantra to repeat
whenever you feel crappy. a feel good hit of the year. enjoy it .. or
else.
because, when it comes down to it, there is always someone more
pathetic then you. theres no need for angst. because even if you are the
most pimply, fat, homely, magic playing, computer nerdy, aol using, pearl
jam listening wanker, youll always know there is someone with less hope
then you.
so you cant find this one person to laugh at? everyone around you
kicks your ass at everything? well, get a phonebook. look in the yellow
page for listings of old age homes. go into one. find the most fucking
smelly, depends wearing, apish person. considering the state of rest
homes, theyll most probably be the ones getting their asses kicked by the
nurses. well, see that person? they are unlike you. they have no hope.
alzheimers has rotted away their mind, parkinsons has rotted away their
nervous system, prostate cancer has rotted away their dicks, basically they
are paperweights that can breathe. laugh at the sad little circus geeks.
kick em. laugh again. feel good? i bet you do.
you feel great now. your revitalized. nothing can stop you now.
your the SHIT. you go girl. people bow down to you. cheerleaders offer
you sexual favors. well, those masters of sauerkraut, beer sadisticness,
the germans have a word for what you just did. schadenfraude. it means
joy out of the pity of others. your enjoyment is being exploited from
those less fortunate then you. youre mean. youre pimply, fat, homely,
magic playing, computer nerdy, aol using, pearl jam listening. you have
no hope. if i were you id shoot myself.
.. ill still be laughing at you.
dto spotlight on - creed
creed big dummyhead - in a world of zines, d0odling will never fit in -
neither will creed. he has no will to live, stares at the ceiling
listening to bad music - inxs, smashing pumpkins, sonic youth, urge
overkill, bee gees. are you still reading this? stop. its useless
trash. he writes y0lk, that zine with all the funky titles that
releases like every day. just a big asshole with no writing skill,
but dto pities him, so heres his article.
the uncool kid
by - creed
steve woke up about 12:00pm, as usual. he thought he was pretty cool
for that. later on in the day, hed tell all his friends that he woke up at
2:00pm, they would shake their heads at him get the feeling that he was
fucked up. .. steve knew something that his friends didnt being fucked
up is a lot cooler than it seems.
he knew he was a liar. he knew he did his homework every night,
behaved at home to his parents. the only trouble he REALLY had was
himself : questions like why am i doing this? whats the point? would
come into his head. but he blessed this sort of thought. it only made him
feel more fucked up.
it was saturday .. hooray. by 12:15, steve was fully dressed,
ready to go. he had washed his hair, brushed his teeth, et cetera .. but
no one had to know this. his image presented him as a dirty little
fellow .. he had told all his friends that he hadnt washed his hair in
months. he despised the grunge look, just because he knew it was trendy.
steve wasnt stupid. he was just a liar.
he sat at his computer until 4:00, reading messages hanging out
on irc. he bragged to everyone in zines that he had just woke up, they
shrugged it off as a normality. zines was a tough audience for steve.
around 3:45 his mom came up looked at the screen, which he had just
cleared, embarrassed about what he was talking about .. it wasnt dirty or
anything, it just took away from his image. so it was erased. it never
existed. steve was a good liar.
at 7:00, his girlfriend tina called. he told her how he woke up at
6:00 that afternoon, they just talked for about 3 hours. by 10:00pm, he
started to get depressed, told tina how he wanted to die. but he knew
he didnt really want to die. it was all part of his image. it was
strange - in his image, tina didnt even exist. he was a loser, girls
just didnt dig him.
at 11:00, he stared at the ceiling contemplated life. all he was
was one big lie, he knew it. he didnt care. inside, he was the most
popular kid he knew. he could have all the friends he wanted, because that
was his lifestyle. but he avoided his lifestyle .. he was so cool, he just
couldnt handle it anymore. he turned to lies. oh, how steve lusted for
pity! he was so into it .. he hated compliments! he loved insults! the
image was working!
around 2:00am, he started to get tired. he wondered where the
image was taking him. he knew. it was taking him right down the tubes.
he didnt know why he loved it so much, but it was great! steve fell
asleep, dreamed of turning up the pure rock radio station, which he knew
was pretty popular, but didnt acknowledge it .. taking his dads gun,
screaming FUCK YOU! out his window, pulling the trigger. he woke up
with a great smile.
he knew he was too weak to ever kill himself. but he was glad he had
his image to block those thoughts. all his friends knew he was suicidal.
so in a cheerful manner, secretly, he showered, brushed his teeth, went on
irc, started telling all his friends how he fell asleep at 6:00am ..
the adventures of mbujn zrplouc
by - eerie
mbujn, what is the because nevermind.
secret to life? but
/ why? its possible.
no. / /
mbujn, say yes. because i wont do what
/ but you ask me.
why? its possible. /
no. / /
mbujn, will there because youre using the
be another strip? but room necessary for that
/ why? other strip.
no. /
its possible.
heinous chimera
by - crank
i dislike sex with grandmom, said bob.
he was always a shy child, never pressuring his female friend into
any sort of physical relationship, but that didnt stop grandmom. from the
first moment she laid eyes on him, part of her family that he was, she knew
she had to have him - have him she would. his mother couldnt stop her,
as bobs mother had died six months ago. nor could bobs father become
involved, as he was now residing in six extra-large freezer baggies in
grandmoms downstairs freezer.
where are you, bobby? im ready, she cawed loudly as she dimmed the
light put her foot powder back in the nightstand drawer. she heard
footsteps drawing nearer knew her bobby was on his way. a small head
peered around the doorjamb, followed by a frail but lithe body. why are
you still wearing your school clothes, dear? lay them on the chair there.
bobby did as he was told, soon his naked, prepubescent form was
standing illuminated in the backwash of light from the living room.
grandmom sucked in a deep breath past her receding gums exorbitant amount
of bridgework, beckoned little bob closer with a crooked finger.
bobby had very few things he could honestly say he hated this was
the most powerful symbol of his animosity. the way she cackled as he
touched her saggy flesh, how she stared drooled at his flaccid manhood :
he loathed nothing more. if there were only something he could do to
relieve himself of the burden of sex with grandmom, he would gladly. any
length to travel, any depth to sink, anything to get away from the old
crone.
however, all he could do was sit idly by until the time came when she
would call him from her bedroom. usually, in order to facilitate the entire
process, he would already be naked, having left his clothing in the living
room. the sight of him round the corner completely naked would throw
grandmom into a tizzy, making her juice herself almost into dehydration,
that was one less thing bob would have to accomplish in his daily deplorable
routine of satisfying the wench.
today he was hoping would be different, but it was not. tomorrow, he
knew, things would be exactly the same as today, juxtapositions made almost
flawless. he could not escape the sucking whirlwind that was embodied in
grandmom drew him nearer with every passing day. the only hopes he had
left were that of escape, in order to escape, he prayed for the death of
his last living relative.
standing by the beds edge completely naked, facing his grandmothers
wilting body in particular her drooping breasts capped with spongy pink
aureoles, he felt nothing but hatred shame. the hand of opprobrium forced
down his head. he looked down his own body at his thighs, just beginning to
grow a light fuzz his knees, so wrinkly! his shins his feet the
floor his pet lizard.
lizard! what was she doing out of her cage? he had kept her secretly
for the past three months, feeding her on outdoor crickets whatever vermin
he found in grandmoms laundry hamper, caring for her as he wished prayed
he would someday be cared for. but now, here she was, crawling peacefully
across his grandmoms bedroom floor.
bob looked at the mound of flesh on the bed. she was currently
writhing around making some sort of death rattle, or was it a moan?
regardless, he bent to pick up the wayward reptile just as grandmom opened
her eyes. she looked at bobby through her spread legs. ohh! this is
something new! she gurgled at him. he collected his animal stood,
looking at his relative with a slightly devious eye.
with a flick of his wrist, bob tossed the lizard on to his grandmoms
sagging bosom. at first she thought he was merely touching her a new way,
seeming to finally be getting into the act of sex with grandmom, but when
she burped a moan looked at her breast, expecting to see bobbys mouth, or
bobbys fingers, or even bobbys little wee-wee, all she saw was a reptile.
get it off me! bob mulborne hafada! it is not funny to scare your
grandmom! get it.. she screamed a macabre bleat of pure terror as the
lizard calmly ambulated on her left breast, stopping to lick some of her
sweat with its forked tongue. bob ran out of the room in a mindless frenzy,
intent on exploiting the privilege his grandmom had never allowed him. he
lifted the receiver of the phone.
back in the bedroom still lay grandmom, frozen with horror. the
harmless animal crawled around calmly, looked at her. regaining the use
of her appendages, she moved her trembling right arm slowly towards it
flicked it off her body. she sighed in relief the moment it was gone.
unbeknownst to her, however, was the fact that while indeed
successfully removing the offending creature from her bulk, she had not
cleared it from her bed. bobbys lizard lay at the edge of the bed between
grandmoms spread thighs. moving her scaled head upwards, the little
reptile saw a juicy looking pink worm gently twitching about. she stood
very still on the bed, then lunged for her dinner.
from the kitchen, bob heard a much louder shriek emitting from his
grandmom. he tried to ignore it as he dialed zero for the operator.
please, i need help. connect me with the national child abuse hotline,
quickly! he heard clicks through the earpiece as the operator filled his
request.
grandmom was bathed in sweat, hurting quite a bit. it seemed her
entire body was on fire, burning her, consuming her in flames stemming from
her wrinkled groin. atonement for forcing bobby to do what she felt was a
necessary step in correct child-rearing? possibly, but the agony from her
body was preventing her from thinking about causes. she thrashed around on
the bed.
the petite lizard was determined to have her meal. she pulled
tugged at the worm, sinking her teeth in bracing herself with her back
legs dug into the bedclothes, her front legs upon grandmoms nether lips.
bobby heard ringing. a womans voice came on the line. trying to
sound adult through his tears, he quickly but haltingly sobbed his story to
the compassionate sounding woman on the other end of the line. when he
finished, there was a pause, an uncomfortably long silence. then, a cold
voice came though to him.
you think thats different from any other grandmother-grandson house
in america? you, apparently, just werent mature enough to handle it
properly. i suggest you grow up do what youre told, or ill send someone
after you believe me, you wont have nearly as pleasant a time as you are
now.
bobby hung up the phone slowly returned to his prone grandmother in
her bedroom, feeling he could never raise his head again.
warez da warez?
by - mogel
date: 6:58 am wed aug 9, 1995 number : 151 of 154
from: freedom base : swearing circle
to : mogel refer : 150
subj: re: you replies: 1
stat: normal origin : local
first of all!!!
fuck you mogel....you stupid SHIT lamer!!! you have no fuckin clue what i
do...so before i find your phuckin housze...letz make some things straight!
you fuckin lamer!!...first...i dont sit my fuckin asz on here all day you
stupid bastard@!....i start transferz in the goddamn morning and get them at
night!!...i dont sit here all day you mutherfuck shitnozed lamer!@...shut
the phuck up....and yez...i did d.l. 600megz...pluz i got 90megz thiz
week!,,..i have acs. on topb boards you fucker...wehere the fuck do you
stand?...i have uploaded since i started bbsing for the last 7 months over
1.6gigz..fuck you lamer!!...so if i ever here you mocking mei will rip
your goddamn puny lyin tounge and feed it to you you stupid worthless
crusty creviced mutherfuckin dormant piece of SHIT!!!....you better watch
yer asz from now on!!......you are nothingyou are a lamerlamerz
deserve to die!!..you stupid phuck up!!! and yez,...i luv my warez....and so
does about a million other people in this area..maybe not people on here
because of their lack of exposure...but...thats their problem....trust
me...messz with me...you are done for!!!
-- freedom -- l.s.d.95!
write about me...automessag me....i will urine box you for good!!!
swearing circle 151 of 154 reading :
scenes of the common the ephemere, part one
by - eerie
this is a true story.
the other day, aliens landed on my street and knocked on my door.
i said to myself : what the fuck are those aliens doing here at fucking
three am?!?! however - it wasnt three pm.
the clock showed : thirty hours five halfs. so i figured :
might as well see what those aliens want.
i opened the door.
hi, aliens.
hi, david. um, we were just passing by, cuz well, uhm.. wed
like to get stuff, yknow.. uhmm ..
uh, its late.
were very sorry.
okay, come on in.
thanks, david.
they went to my room. the alien with a leg on his back said : so
what do you have, man?
well, theres this one. you can smell it, its all good.
the alien put the stuff inside a pocket on his belly said : true.
it does smell good! then he removed the stuff from the belly pocket gave
it back to me said : but do you have something else?
i said : theres this stuff. its cheaper obviously not as good
as the other one.
well, i havent got paid yet. ill have my paycheck this
putchunday.
putchunday?
uh, well, on our planet, weeks have 17 days, so you figure we had
to find kooky names for those extra days.
makes sense. so whats the deal?
well, id pay you, like, this putchunday.
bud, you already owe me 34 spatiodollars.
yeah, i know, i mean, i thought i was going to get paid this
week but-
im not gonna sell you any SHIT if you dont have the money.
the other 3 aliens look like theyre very bored.
well, lets see .. i have 10 spatios. what do you have for that?
um, what about 1.5 g of that cheap stuff?
we got a deal. alright, heres the money. give the stuff.
i take the stuff outta my bag. one of the aliens says : what kind
of computer is this?
uh, its a 286.
hey, man, i got a pentium last week. it rocks. you should get
one.
i have no money .. this puter is alright for me.
uh-huh ..
i give the stuff to the alien that has a leg on his back. they all
leave the apartment, leaving me wondering how will i get to change those
spatiodollars into real canuck bucks.
clock shows : fucking three am.
morality : no wonder why i stopped selling stuff.
androgynous mind
by - fake scorpion
sometimes as a funny joke
ill go on phonesex pretend im a girl.
the guys will flood me with messages like
m4f:a@alaska.net with a cock rubbing your face
i always respond with the same words,
do you like sex travel? if so, fuck off.
i sit back i have to smile,
even though it makes me sad to be a man.
sometimes as a funny joke
ill go on lesbian pretend im a girl.
the girls will flood me with messages like
m4f:jen@netcom.com can i fist you?
i always respond with the same words,
what do you call 500 gay women? a militia etheridge.
i sit back i have to smile,
even though it makes me sad to be a woman.
you crazy bastard!
by - mogel
enchanted by his intensity, she stared deeper into his deep blue
eyes. suddenly, he tore into his food, the greasy crumbs of brea
immediately clinging to the sides of his lip.
i was thinking about killing myself making it look like an
accident, he started with a grin, an uneasy tone that made him almost
believable.
IMMEDIATELY she blurted out, well, it wont look like an accident
now that youve told me.
he grinned even deeper with her sharp reply. you know, i had a
dream last night that vampira from ed wood followed me home forced me to
have sex with her.
thats odd, she said, picking slowly at her fries, was she wearing
an angora sweater?
no, she was wearing a three-piece business suit, of all things.
well, that was before she got all naked. his finger began tapping the
table nervously. say, do you ever feel like winston smith from 1984?
not really.
you ever spend waaaay too much time thinking about where they make
those stupid little plastic thingies that they put on shoe laces?
well, not really. she said, mildly confused. she dipped her fry
into the heaping of ketchup that she had poured all over the corner of her
cheeseburger wrapping. he stopped tapping his finger began whistling the
gilligans island theme song.
cats suck!@ he blurted out rather loudly.
i kind of like cats, she retorted. bedazzled, his eyes turned
angry.
have you ever wished you were a superhero? i mean, look at those
guys, heres a guy that can fly.
that would be pretty cool, she said a bit under-enthusiastically.
exactly!@ he proclaimed, .. im not talking about those marvel
comics characters either. to those guys, if you could fly you were like the
janitor of the super heroes. everyone could fly. that was a cinch. the
average guy worried about keeping up his reputation by how many cities he
could wreck in a single punch. she wondered where he was going with all
this. if you were to have ONE superpower in the world, any ONE power, what
would it be?
oh, i dont know. i bet invisibility would be picked a lot.
perhaps, he noted, but i betcha if you thought long hard about
it, whatever power you chose to have would be very fitting to your
personality. at this point, even he noticed things were getting a little
too awkward in the old eight-year-old mcdonalds where the two had met for a
lunch date. there was no one else in the place, only one visible
salesperson was half-asleep at the register. aquaman was such a dork.
she had no idea what he was babbling on about, it seemed random
enough. she figured shed play along. after an awkward silence of two
minutes passed she looked up at him with more energy than she had displayed
all day.
ive got it!@ she yelled.
oh? he remarked with a grin.
id like to talk to the animals.
bahahahahaha .. the animals?!@? why?!@?
well, it all started with the fall of western civilization, i
think.
uh .. i like fries. he remarked, grabbing a handful stuffing it
into his mouth imitating the cookie monster gratuitously. YOM, YOM. I
LIKE FRIES.
she giggled.
please continue, he said. the diet pepsi is on the edge of its
seat waiting for your explanation.
animals dont reflect. they dont over-analyse. they dont
bullshit. theyre PURE emotion. that fuckin rules. she pronounced. his
eyes looked around nervously.
hmm.
so what would your power ONE super power be, huh?
me? id probably have a penis that could leap tall buildings in a
single bound.
oh. how typical.
thats ironic.
what is?
see, he began, i have this big pounding feeling in my head telling
me that im nothing. that im stupid im not one of those chosen
genius-people im just some flaming idiot. ive been in this mcdonalds
a million times ill probably return here a million times.
let me guess. people tell you youre witty, smart, cool, cute
all that stuff - you think theyre all full of SHIT. you cant live up
to that image cause you think its complete bullshit.
more or less. im peter pan, the boy who never grew up. im the
gingerbread man, theres a million of me.
were all unique twisted artists in our own ways.
are those ways pathetic?
if you want to think they are. i like to think of that stuff as a
load of bullshit though. everything around us is as real as we want it to
be. tossing a slinky down the stairs can be an art form.
do you mean stupefying yourself?
what i MEAN is - make yourself a froggie.
huh?
you dont need to over-think. do whats common sense, in your
heart.
frogs do all that?!?
sure.
.. to that, they kissed, accidentally toppling over a 12-pack of
chicken mc-nuggets onto his lap.
sugar - condiments chapter 1/2
by - murmur
pour some sugar on me, cmon thrill me up. the mating call of the
incredibly smelly porfkinelli. porfkinelli are native to madagascar,
mozambique, tanganyika, south africa, lesotho, swaziland, shabbona, the
bronx. they have also been known to migrate as far as vladivostok but this
claim has not been officially accepted. anyways porfkinelli are a rare
breed, a rare breed indeed. with a gestation period of 17 years a life
span of 14 years on the average, the brave porfkinelli must avoid poachers
hungry for their beautiful coal coats. luckily for porfkinelli they are
liable to give birth to up to 77 chewbies at once, greatly expanding the
population. sadly, this causes inbreeding, which has further depleted the
once flourishing bartering porfkinelli population.
moral : im gonna get out of hell in my dodge, my freedom made out of steel.
ode to a pancake
by - eightball
my little pancake, forming on the grill.
i made you from batter, made sure you wouldnt spill.
oh, my dearest pancake, how i love you so!
i look down at you and could never, never say no.
sitting in the syrup, topped with bits of honey.
my favorite little pancake, youre worth more than money.
spread with lots of butter, graced with some whipped cream.
to change you current form is something i would never dream.
so much better than french toast, waffles are a joke.
when i see my perfect pancake, i wont share with other folk.
just a taste, nothing more - youre so very sweet.
i love my precious pancake - its better than any meat.
please direct all dto correspondence towards - doomed@voicenet.com
c copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved.
better living through sheer idiocy a whole lot of free time.
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