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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #414 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Meet Betty" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Phairgirl !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I have to admit, I have a horrible crush on every single guy
online.
It's true. Some guys suck me in worse than others. However,
the bottom line remains, I could probably have some kind of bizarre
sexual fantasy about anyone online, provided they were single.
I don't know why I let *girlfriends* or *wives* stop me from
fantasizing, but quite frankly, the thought of sharing someone with
another girl turns me off. Call me old-fashioned or crazy or whatever,
I'm just not the harem girl type. And besides, the mere thought of
some other girl getting something good from someone I'm messing around
with just utterly repulses me.
However, I am aware that not every guy in the universe wants to
have drooly modem chicks dreaming of their naked wet bodies. That's
okay, I completely accept that. But don't think that I'm going to stop
dreaming just because someone doesn't think I should. If you don't want
to be fantasized about, you need a sure-fire cream dream killer: a
girlfriend. And if this is not prudent at this juncture in your life,
then you need the next best thing: Betty.
Betty is the all-purpose, imaginary, brush-off-the-modem-chicks
girlfriend. She's beautiful. She's busty. She's got an ass you can
bounce quarters on. She's done things in bed that make Amber Lynn
blush. Best of all, she can't stand little puppy dog modem girls and
is an expert in Judo.
Betty is as easy to use as a Fisher Price Little People Barn
(the one that goes "MOOOOO"). Here's an example of Betty in motion:
<LonelyGrl> I looked at your pics. *giggles* You're cute!
<BettysMan> Yeah, my girlfriend certainly thinks so.
<LonelyGrl> Oh, you have a girlfriend? *sigh*
<BettysMan> Yeah, her name is Betty. She's beautiful. She's busty.
She's got an ass you can bounce quarters on. She's done
things in bed that make Amber Lynn blush. And she doesn't
like modem girls and is an expert in Judo.
<LonelyGrl> You no longer find you to be cute.
Of course, Betty should be used with caution. Although most
modem girls (about 80% or so) would see Betty's name mentioned and
turn tail and run, there are those oddballs out there who don't see
Betty as much of a threat.
<SinglChik> I want to have sex with you.
<BettysMan> But, I have a girlfriend.
<SinglChik> So what.
<BettysMan> Her name is Betty. She's beautiful. She's busty. She's
got an ass you can bounce quarters on. She's done things
in bed that make Amber Lynn blush. And she doesn't like
modem girls and is an expert in Judo.
<SinglChik> I *am* Amber Lynn. And I want you both to try and make me
blush.
There's never a sad ending! You never look like a jerk by
brushing off an ugly girl! You can't lose with Betty.
Except, you're still home.
Alone.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #414, WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 1/10/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #415 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Picking Your Ass in Public" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Anjee !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
There is always at least one little thing that happens during
the day, that no matter how minor it may be, is extremely annoying.
These things happen to every single one of us, and we are always trying
to find a way around them, attempting to avoid weird looks and crazy
stares (well, most of us). A not-so-special outing to the restaurant
tonight inspired me to write this article, my sister thinks I am a
psycho, but that's okay. Because I am!
Most of you must know how it feels like to be in the middle of a
fast-food restaurant, getting ready to leave as the place is begining to
fill up when suddenly, your underpants seemed to have lodged themselves
in your asscrack. You desperately try to ignore the violating feeling
fearing what the others may think. But why? I say that you should just
grab ahold of those uncomfortable panties and yank them right out of
where they absolutely do not belong. Every single person (except the
little kids in Ethiopia, because they just wear torn shirts) does it,
and you shouldn't feel ashamed for trying to rid yourself of the
awkward feeling of having fabric that seems to have accomodated itself
in your asscrack without any previous warnings.
As to every rule, there is an exception... like I said earlier,
I believe it is very okay and normal to want to pull your panties out
of your ass (or depending on the situation -- grabbing your bra to
replace it), however, I also believe that this should be done subtlely.
I was explaining to my sister that it would be totally wrong to
violently pull those underpants while letting "UGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!@#!@$!"
sounds escape from your mouth. That is, unless you like attention -- a
lot of it.
There are many people who are afraid that they will be ridiculed
for doing what I described above, but those who normally point and
laugh are most often little 7 year old runts, so who cares? Although
if you were litterally picking dingleberries from out of your asshairs
in the middle of the mall, I too, would laugh. Not only would I laugh,
I would laugh hysterically and begin rolling on the floor, turn bright
red and convulse. Either that or I would quickly make my way to the
nearest garbage/washrooms to barf.
In conclusion, everyone has a right to grab their asses, in
public or in private as long as it is done it a not-so-noticable
manner, unless you are at home, then it doesn't really matter. It is
YOUR right, unlike many other rights -- this one is kind of useful. So
go ahead, don't be afraid.
GO RIGHT AHEAD AND PICK OUT THOSE LITTLE PANTIES!@
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #415, WRITTEN BY: ANJEE - 1/10/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #416 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "A Package For a Girl" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Styx !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Dear Melanie,
I am running on 3 hours of sleep so don't expect any of this to
make sense. I've got a big container full of coffee in front of me that
I brought here to work but I forgot that coffee makes me sick. Infact,
most things I eat or drink make me sick. My stomach hates everything
besides vodka, nicotine, and tangerines. Um.. I only said tangerines
because it rhymed with nicotine. I'm not complaining. I wish I could
go to sleep. I'm still not complaining.
I barely remember anything that's happened in the past year. It's
really unnerving. I feel like I'm finally waking up from _something_, I
just hope I won't want to go back to sleep afterwards.
I think that if you get flattered too much, you start to think you
can do no wrong. I'm not so sure flattery is such a good thing anymore.
An old friend of mine just stopped by to say hi. I wonder if he
feels better? I hate it when people do that.
"MATT!!! say something HAPPY!!!"
You know what would make me happy right this second? Being with
somebody that's capable of maintaining comfortable silences. For
instance, let's say I have a friend/girlfriend over and he/she is
sitting on my bed watching TV and I am sitting on the floor putting new
strings on my guitar, or *whatever*, and neither of us are talking or
even making eye-contact, yet we both feel secure enough in our
relationship that neither of us care. He/she enjoys the TV and I enjoy
my new guitar strings and both of us are content just to be in each
other's presence. That would be the best fucking relationship in the
world, but I doubt anybody is capable. Hell, I've never seen it; not
in friends or girlfriends or boyfriends or fathers or anything.
People are so wrapped up in the trivial details of their
relationships instead of being concerned about the important things. A
relationship is _two people co-existing comfortably_. That's all. It's
that simple. When one person begins to feel uncomfortable, the
relationship ends. That's all. It's that simple. Anything else is
irrelevant.
That's _all_. It's _that simple_.
Until you find somebody that you're consistently comfortable with,
all you're doing is playing the game. The worst part about it is that
it's necessary and inevitable. You either play the little games or
you're alone. I'm not sure which is worse.
Maybe the worst thing is to play the game _and_ be alone. You do
the whole socializing bit and you surround yourself with your boring,
shallow, useless friends, but you still end up alone at the end of the
night anyway and you do it on purpose.
I'm _still_ not complaining.
I'm progressing past all of this; at least, I've taken the first
few steps. "All is fair in love and war." Whoever said that was right.
If things don't work out, you step right over it. It isn't callous or
heartless, it's just making sure that you come out of things alright.
The _last_ thing it is is "selfish," quote unquote. Since when did
self-preservation become self-ish, anyway? I must've missed that
meeting.
It's too bad everyone is such a physical whore. Most relationships
I've witnessed _began_ with sex. What the hell? Isn't sex sacred
anymore? Whatever happened to our priorities and morals? There's
barely anyone left.
What gets me the most are the people who wait two or three weeks
before having sex with each other and they think they're hot shit for
waiting that long; no, they're just as disgusting as the people who fuck
on the first day. The only difference is the time. I'm not saying
there's a specific time frame that applies to every relationship as far
as when having sex goes, but three weeks? That's called being a whore
in my world.
I wish I could just go home and sleep. I'm so tired.
You know, in the relationship I had before, we waited _twenty-two_
months before sleeping with each other. It was because we had morals
and stable priorities. As cataclysmic as the relationship turned out to
be in the end, we *always* respected ourselves and each other when it
came to sex. That doesn't mean I'm better than anyone else, but shit,
maybe it does. Can you think of any guy you know that would wait
twenty-two months, Melanie?
Yet it seems that once somebody loses their virginity, they feel
that there's no more sense in waiting with anybody else. They've
already had sex so there's no boundaries; it's easy, now. Idiots! They
just don't understand and they never will because they're too busy
fucking people and watching TV to stop for a moment and _think_. AIDS
is a blessing. I praise it for knocking these assholes off (credit;
Jeff Koyen).
You think Montel Williams is going to keep your legs shut, Melanie?
How about music? Your poetry? Mommy? You act on instinct without
second thought, just like the rest of them.
So here's your fucking package I promised to send. Enclosed with
this letter is ground sirloin steak sealed in a ziplock bag. Take a
long, hard look at it, Melanie, because that's all you've made yourself
out to be -- raw meat. I've named it "human." Take care of it, and
don't let it spoil! Spoiled humans give off a foul scent...
- Matt
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #416, WRITTEN BY: STYX - 1/10/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #417 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "That Silly Dog" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Trilobyte !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
i used to be rastafarian, but then i changed my ways. i took
off the multicolored hat of my homeland, i dyed my skin a color akin
to peachish white, and moved away from reggae and ska musics. i grew
to like other things in life, there are so many other things besides
the daily ritual of smoking ganja and loving allah. there's also
growing pot, making love to the wimmen, buying hashish... i moved to
san francisco, land of the rice things and streetcars, and forded
myself a stream across the bloody rivers of the bastioned american
workforce. but all of a sudden, my black facial hair started to grow
uncontrollably. one second i'd shave, and a few minutes later i'd have
a full dreaded beard. it gave away my identity and all the
leather-wearing alligator gay homosexual men would throw me out of the
streetcars and out into the roads of the streets.
i was down and dejected and depressed and demoralized and
detoxed. so i went to find my reefer. i went into a drug store but
they only had aspirin and these chia pet things, and some old women
selling make-up, which i don't wear, because it doesn't complement my
complexion. well, no more than the darned flourescent lights do. i
went outside and found a dog, which i picked up and put in my coat.
"what is a former rastafarian without a dog?" i ask, but nobody answers.
nobody is listening. it is as if i am playing really bad music in a
crowded room. nobody listens to it but nobody tells me to shut up
because they're afraid someone else is listening and the wouldn't want
to make a really bad impression. you know.
my eyes became bloodhsot for no reason. i hadn't been smoking
up. i looked around at all the storefronts, there were non that
interested me. i scurried over to the italian restaurant to smoke me
some basil. it smelled like basil, it tasted like basil, it probably
was basil, but doggonit, if that stuff wasn't marijuana! i was more
happy at that moment than during the whole rest of my time in san
francisco. it was time to find love. girls aren't just plastered to
walls of buildings, one has to subvert one's self past the typical
methods of lubrication in order to find unfettered harlots.
i found one. inside the dog.
"come out, fair maiden, i will make you whole," i spoke to the
rear of the dog. i could see her in there.
she breathed a great sigh and came out of the dog. the dog
split open because she was much, much bigger than he. in fact, her
breast alone was the size of a medium-sized schnauzer, yum! i took her
to the drug store to get her some clothing and to clean the dog parts
off of her. i picked up one of the old women working there and wiped
off my woman with it. it wasn't happy about being used as a brush, but
then again, i wouldn't be either. i stepped on it and broke it apart
and threw it at things and knocked them over and knocked up my woman and
now all that was left was to find allah.
oh, wait, damnit, allah was the dog. isn't that quite a
catch-22. damn.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #417, WRITTEN BY: TRILOBYTE - 1/10/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #418 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "FuCkelibacy Soot Rant" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Miasma !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I dunno whats happening with this two ton weight lifting itself
off my soldiers fighting arming themselves against an enema burning in
time over and over ndovr swelling up like 1950 family shows cause my
TV dad shut himself off remote control fever has this ghost town
thinking that its living in a material world and for god sakes man im
not a material girl im a man madam, im adam. So eve can take her ribs
and shove it up her ass cause it would be like sweet nothings in my ear
you're whispering in repetition thats over and over ndovr
so don't pledge yourself to the egyptian gods cause you arent
worthy embracing in a babbled tongue like serpents caressing each other
with invisible hands cause its magic magic magic tricks and treats and
threats and wreaths cause christmas is coming and santa's got a
reindeer on death row about to fry cause dinner ain't free for everyone
but dead people don't got to eat cause they don't have to worry about
getting thin or fat or fin or that it just keeps speaking to me telling
me things i want to hear so i can write them down and sound like im
ranting like an evil genius franknstein never had this problem did he?
I guess you have to be a monster just for anyone to misunderstand you
in this world. Maybe I'll just grunt and waddle from side to side from
front to back from frick to frack to hell and back cause I'm just not
the type of person who likes that type of weather who likes that type
of leather restraining sex in a society which conceived itself its
liberty baby, mother-fucking liberty.
Sweet dreams of peppermint of pick up sticks of ice cream flavors
of asking favors cause things are never hard they are always easy easy
easy and its nothing just to bring it back to where it all began cause
crazy people have something to say too we're just too unwilling to
listen cause to hear it you got to sit down for a a minute or too or
five or nineteen and hear those birds chirping and dads burping and
reptiles slurping and other things that rhyme and rhyme in tyme and
time again. It's a manmade thing and it just clanks and whirrs. Like
a machine. proverbial. and intelligible.
and listening.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #418, WRITTEN BY: MIASMA - 1/10/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #419 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "The Rape and Murder of !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: Katherine Genovese" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> AIDS 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
A MUSICAL PLAY in one small act.
(The scene - A courtyard, urban New York street in front of an
apartment building. The stage should be set up like this:
Window Window
Window Window
Window Window
Street
Where each level of window is off the stage, and contains one
member of the cast. The street level is the stage itself, where the
rape and muder takes place. The windows are were the dialoge takes
place.)
(A scream off-stage. Enter Katherine Genovese and her
attacker. Her attacker throws her to the ground, and begins to rape
her. Lights turn on in all the windows, and the members of the cast
move to them to see the action outside. They see the rape/murder going
on and turn off their lights. However, their silouettes remain
illuminated, allowing us to realize they are still watching the action
like the ghouls and jackals they are.)
(The attacker takes out his knife, and begins to stab
Genovese brutally while still raping her. One of the silouttes,
preferably a female one, puts her hand to her mouth in horror. But
does nothing.)
(The top left window lights up, and we see the apartment of
Average Joe. It's tastefully decorated for a blue-color guy in the
nineteen sixties.)
(Joe's song is sung over the screams of Genovese, which are
audible throughout the entire play and all the songs.)
Joe:
(verse)
Well, now, I'm just your Average Joe.
Breaking my back to earn some dough.
I work all day, I sleep all night.
Weekends come, I like beer and fights.
I don't want any trouble no time,
so I mind my business and commit no crime.
(chorus)
It ain't my fault she's getting raped.
It ain't my fault the world isn't fair.
I bet it's her low-cut blouse and mini-skirt;
Maybe it's her long sultry hair.
It ain't my fault she's getting raped.
Now, I'm just the Average Joe.
I'm not no Superman.
Now her trouble ain't my trouble, though
I wish they'd hurry and end the show,
'cause I gotta use the can.
(chorus)
Oh, please, hurry up and stop!
I can't hardly stand the pain!
The piss'll be running down like rain!
And the shit'll be doing a flop!
Hurry and die!
Hurry and die!
(chorus)
(The lights in Average Joe's apartment dim down to the previous
silouette lighting, and the lights in the window next to his turn up.
Concerned Mother take the stage, and sings her blessed heart out.)
Mother:
(verse)
I certainly hope our children aren't exposed,
No, to them, it most definitely should be closed!
This is adult entertainment only
And of such an indepth nature certainly uncommonly!
Keep it away from their little eyes!
This is for grown gals and guys!
(chorus)
Oh, I do love these violent things!
But for our Children, no way, unnuhh!
Stab her in the stomach, don't stop!
Oh, all this blood and rape makes me pop!
This show certainly features divine beings!
(verse)
Certainly, I love the fight scene!
And the love scenes, they're really keen!
But they're for us!
For the children, I recommend "Toby, The Talking Bus!"
Keep this to ourselves, and we'll never have to share
or worry about their precious little minds being ensnared!
(chorus)
(verse)
Some parents aren't as good as me!
Don't keep their children under lock and key!
So I do the job for them,
I play the role of Mother hen.
Blood and guts, that's for me!
And not little Dorothy!
(chorus)
(Again, the lights dim, revealing the old silouette. The window
directly beneath her lights up on the apartment of Crazed Sicko. The
room is in disarray.)
Sicko:
(verse)
I know that girl, know her real well!
When I grabbed her ass, she told me to go to hell!
Well, it serves the bitch right.
Shouldn't have put up a fight.
Could have been on a date with me tonight.
Instead some guy is giving her an indepth tour of
vivisection.
Yeah, he's doing a real nice job of inspection.
Well, I hope you enjoy it, whore!
I hope your head likes that cement floor!
Give her a thrust for me!
(chorus)
Oh, I hope you're happy now!
Oh, I hope you're happy now!
He's kicking your ass real hard!
Raping you and stabbing you with a metal shard!
Oh, I hope you're happy now!
(verse)
Kill her! Kill her! Show her death!
I wonder if could have been my breath...
Why did she reject me?
Aren't I good enough for she?
Well, doesn't matter now!
Wouldn't never want to date a girl
whose stomach is a gaping swirl
of blood and flesh!
Perhaps they'll put you back together with wire mesh!
(chorus)
(verse)
Eat some death now, little slut!
Why, why, oh why wouldn't you lick my walnut?
Maybe I'll come down and get you after he's gone.
Maybe I won't.
I think I saw something like this in a porn.
A lot of fun it was.
Ah, screw you, I hope you die... just because!
(chorus)
(The same time-honored routine. The window next to sickos
illuminates, and reveals Timid Geek. His apartment is impeccable.)
Geek:
(verse)
Kitty, you're my friend.
Stick together to the very end.
We've laughed together, danced together,
even talked about secret things together.
But how, how can I go down there
and help you? What if he sticks the knife here?
Or here? Or here? Or anywhere on my body?
Something I wouldn't like to hear, that melody.
(chorus)
Kitty, I want to save you!
But, Kitty, I'm too scared!
That huge man is much feared!
Kitty I want to save you!
But, Kitty, I'm much too scared!
(verse)
Oh, just hold on, till the police arrive!
Oh, if you can only just stay alive!
They'll help you, and I'll be pleased!
Then my burden will be eased.
I don't want to call them, however.
In self-presevation, I'm a true believer!
What if he found out I made the call?
He'd nail me to the wall!
(chorus)
(verse)
I'll miss you Kitty, I'll miss you dearly!
I place a flower on your grave yearly!
You've been a real good friend!
But now, you've met the bitter end!
I can tell by that huge pool of blood,
that's becoming a big red flood,
you're going to die soon!
See you on the other side of the moon!
(chorus)
(the same. The window beneath him lights up and reveals Crime
Oriented Old Woman. She sings her song.)
Old Woman:
(verse)
What's this city coming to?
When people get murdered in the street?
Their blood gets on my shoe!
And dirties my feet!
What if it happened to me?
Where would the police be?
Oh dear me, the crime boggles the mind!
It's an act against human kind!
That poor girl, how badly I feel for her
(chorus)
This city is a pit!
I really hate it!
I'm scared in my own house!
Like a little mouse!
This city really is a pit!
(verse)
Murder and rape is just the least of it!
Why do the police permit?
They even stole my golden necklace!
Broke in and took it right off my face!
Thieves! They took my necklace!
And stole everything else in the place!
Everything I worked and slaved for!
They wouldn't even let me talk to the prosecutor!
Too busy for petty theft, they said!
I'd like to smack his head!
(chorus)
(verse)
My daughter was mugged the other night!
Gave us such a fright!
Getting so that girls can't even walk outside.
No one has any more civic pride!
No cares that these things happen!
(chorus)
(the same. The window next to her lights up and reveals Pissed
Off T.V. Guy. The most prominent thing in his apartment is a huge
television.)
T.V. Guy:
(verse)
I wish she'd shut up!
I want to watch the t.v.!
I wish he'd speedup!
Her screams are really starting to bother me!
I can't hear what the t.v. is saying!
I can't hear what the bands are playing!
(chorus)
Her screams piss me off!
She's too loud!
oh, great, now I've got to deal with her blood-choked coughs!
Of my t.v., I'm really proud!
Too bad I can't hear it over this wailing whore!
I'd like to break her head on the floor!
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #419, WRITTEN BY: AIDS - 1/10/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #420 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "The Story Of Want and Love" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Muze !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/10/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
This was a piece written on 5-14-96. It is a true story.
Pay attention to the names of the characters so the story makes sense.
!!========================================================================!!
Love had a happy life, as did Want.
One day Love and Want met and became instant friends. Soon after
this, they met a boy on seperate occassions and were both attracted to
him. Love could love this boy so much, but that's not what he wanted.
Want claimed that she could love him, but she never could because she
was Want. We are what we are, not what we want.
Soon the phase of this boy passed and moved away to make room for
yet another to come to Wants attention.
Love and Want got to know this new boy as well as he would let
them. Love truly cared for this new boy with all her heart. Want
merely tried to gain his attention. Want is not capable of Love, for we
are what we are, not what we want.
This new boy had a very close friend, they were almost brothers.
Love cared for the brother as well as the new boy, for they all were of
the same clan. Love and the new boy became close, and she had a short,
strange obsession with the brother. Soon it was over, though everyone
thought it was still going on. Not that it mattered. One day, Want
decided that she wanted the new boy this time. Want sat back for a
while and watched Love and the new boy become closer. Want soon got
jealous of Love because she wasn't capable of it.
Want, still thinking that Love obssessed over the brother, tried
to get close to the brother. Want tried to make Love jealous. Love
recognized this weak attempt for an attack, but dismissed it as childish
and freshman. Love continued to grow closer to the new boy. Soon she
got intimidated by this new boy because he hid his feelings so well. But
Love kept trying and prying into his heart. Meanwhile, Want kept showing
a public show of affection for the brother to spite Love. The more Want
did this, the more Love was driven closer to this new boy.
One day, Love got so tired of Wants incessant acting. To get back
at her, Love gave everything she had in herself. In doing this, she won
the heart of this new boy and all those around her. Want could never win
the brother or this new boy, for she was not capable of Love. The
jealousy Want felt for Love drove her to change her name to Spite.
We are what we are,
not what we want.
Don't spite those who
have more.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #420, WRITTEN BY: MUZE - 1/10/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #421 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "RONCO PROPAGANDA" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> RON POPEIL !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
RONCORONCORONCORONCORONCO HOE RONCORONCORONCORONCORONCO
O R
N HELLO EVERYONE! THIS IS RON POPEIL OF RONCO, INC! O
C NORMALLY, I WOULD BE HERE TO ANNOUNCE A GREAT NEW N
O RONCO PRODUCT, LIKE THE WONDERFUL _RONCO NEW AND C
R IMPROVED FOOD DEHYDRATORS_!! BUT TODAY, I AM HERE O
O TO LET ALL OF YOU, MY FRIENDS, KNOW ABOUT MY GOOD R
N FRIENDS, THE "HOE" E-ZINE WRITER GROUP!!!!!!!!!!! O
C THEY ARE GOOD RONCO CUSTOMERS-YOU CAN ALWAYS HEAR N
O ONE OF THEM RAVING ABOUT AN EXCELLENT _RONCO FOOD C
R DEHYDRATOR_ RECIPE OR A GREAT PASTA MADE WITH THE O
O SUPER-DUPER _RONCO PASTA MAKER_!!! PLUS, THEY ARE R
N AMAZING WRITERS!! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND "HOE" E-ZINE O
C FOR READING DURING THAT _30 SECONDS OF WAIT TIME_ N
O YOU ENDURE WHEN USING YOUR _RONCO PASTA MAKER_!!! C
R BY THE WAY, THE COOL _NEW AND IMPROVED RONCO FOOD O
O DEHYDRATORS ARE A GREAT BUY! YOU CAN GET YOUR OWN R
N FOR JUST _4 EASY PAYMENTS_ OF _$29.95_!!!!!!!!!!! O
C http://www.dto.net/hoe/ N
O C
RONCORONCORONCORONCORONCO HOE RONCORONCORONCORONCORONCO
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #421, WRITTEN BY: RON POPEIL - 1/13/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #422 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Talented" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Mutter !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Somewhere in time and space a young man searches for the answer
to the question which is life. He walks countless miles and climbs
for countless days to reach the top of the mountain. When he finally
arrives, he finds a old man with a long, white beard sitting in the
lotus position, meditating.
"Oh, honorable elder," the young man says with exhaustion.
"I've traveled countless miles, climbed countless days and have obtained
countless calluses on my hands and feet all to ask to receive some small
nugget of knowledge which will enlighten me for the rest of my days..."
The elder slowly breaks his meditation and turns to look at the
young man's expectant face. He slowly opens his mouth to the young man's
delight, "You are talented in many ways." Then he is silent. He turns
away from the young man and goes back into his meditation. The young
man, feeling ripped off by the quality of the message he had wasted a
good portion of his life chasing, promptly commits suicide by jumping
off a cliff.
Of course who could blame him? He came seeking enlightenment and
walked away with a complement -- and a lame one at that. That's exactly
how I felt when I saw what passes for fortune cookie fortunes these
days...
"You are talented in many ways."
What the fuck is that?! Is this a fortune or a direct quote from
"I'm Ok, You're Ok"? Technically, it's not even a fortune! Did some
new age, reject Complement Cookies (TM) by mistake find its way into
my Wednesday dinner? COME ON! If I paid 10 dollars for a reading from
some mystic on the street corner to tell me that "You are talented in
many ways." I'd demand my money back, then beat them over the head with
their crystal ball. What's next?
"You are very smart."
"Everybody loves you."
"Your dick is very big."
It's great for those first impressions...
"So, Mutter, tell me a little bit about yourself."
"Well, apparently my dinner thinks I am quite talented (in
many ways)."
"I... see..."
I don't even like Chinese food. The only thing I even remotely
enjoy about the whole Chinese fast food eating experience is the fucking
fortune cookies. They are tasty as hell and come with a bit of
entertainment. But can I have a nice normal fortune cookie? No.
Instead I get some cookie designed for the manic depressant in us all.
The cookie itself probably contained a good dose of prozac. I can see
it now...
"Sir, Americans are just too fat and lazy. They see their work
as pointless. Production is very low."
"What can we do to alleviate these problems?"
"Well, our research team has determined that the average
American loves fast food... especially Chinese fast food. The
development team came up with these fortune cookies, guaranteed to
reduce the American worker to the smiling dolt he should be."
"Yes! A happy worker is a hard worker. Send the happy cookies
into their food stream immediately!"
Or maybe the story behind the message is even more sinister. A
warped experiment in mind control? Shifting the will of the people
through some cleverly placed seeds from an unexpected source? Think
about the subliminal effects of such a message on the collective. Will
crime decrease? Will the economy get better? Will drug use increase
among teenagers? Who knows the ripple effects a seemingly innocent,
yet weird message would have on the human mind? Did you know that many
fortune cookie companies in America are actually CIA fronts or in other
ways silently owned by the U.S. government? It's true. What effect
might the fortune cookies have on the political swaying of America? Who
cares? All I want is some trite little statement about the future
inside a tasty cookie. But not even that simple desire will be met in
the happy-joy world of today where your dinner is giving you pep talks.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #422, WRITTEN BY: MUTTER - 1/13/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #423 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "A Day in The Life of a Gangster" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Belial !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
there was this time my friend (his name is tim!) and i were
walking to the store down on the corner to get some candy and all the
sudden, a giant horse fell out of the sky and landed right on TIM! i
couldn't believe it! i said, "hey you fucking horse, get off my
friend!" but it just looked at me with its big ass eyes and then rolled
its lips back. so i said, "punk! feel my wrath!" and started kicking
it in the side. "this is for tim, you son of a bitch!" i said as i
kicked the dumb horse.
you wouldn't believe what happened next!
the horse got up off of tim and said, "i am a horse! you have
no right to kick me." the next thing i know, a giant cow (his name is
ralph!) fell out of the sky and landed right on me! it hurt like hell,
but i said, "fucking cow, get off me!" the cow was all dumb and shit
and it said, "milk? ok!" and shot a gallon of milk all over me. "ack!
you piece of shit! quit squirting milk all over me and get the hell up!"
when the cow finally did get up, i said, "it's about damn time!"
then i said to the horse (i don't remember what its name was),
"hey fucker, why don't you get the hell out of here like that cow!" the
horse thought it was suave and shit and said, "sure!"
well, ted and i watched the two dumb fucks walk down the street
for a while and then we just said, "pfff! farm animals!" and went into
the store. i got a pack of gum and ted got some bitter ass shocktarts.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #423, WRITTEN BY: BELIAL - 1/13/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #424 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "House and Home with Lynette Jennings" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> AnonGirl !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
"And five, four, three..." <two fingers, one finger, action!>
<Cue lame early 1990's theme music.>
<Cue lame intro sequence.>
<Cue host.>
"Hi, welcome to House and Home. I'm your host, Lynette
Jennings. Today we'll be focusing on crafts, as a part of our 'Making
Housework Fun!' week. We've got oodles of guests here with us,
including world renowned craft specialist, Marnie Williams. But we
can't get the show off on the right foot without a peek into our
mailbag. Jim, why don't you bring out the mailbag?"
<Cue guy in polo t-shirt with headset bringing mailbag.>
<Polo-shirt guy passing Lynette the mailbag.>
<Polo-shirt guy looking dumbfoundedly at the camera.>
<Polo-shirt guy walking offset.>
Lynette: "Okay let's see what we've got here today." <pulling out
already-opened letter covered in yellow Hi-Liter.> "'Dear
Ms. Jennings, you are just fabulous." <flattered laughter
coming from Lynette.> "I watch your show religiously, right
after I see the kids off to school. I'd force them to watch
the show too if they weren't off.. learning.. all the time."
<confused.> "Anyhoo, I just wanted to say that you are what
makes the world go round. Sincerely yours, Muriel Cole,
Ackley, Iowa.'
"Well Muriel, I'm so glad you watch my show. It really touches
me to recieve heartfelt letters like yours. And I love it
when people adresss me as Ms.!" <laughing at her own joke.>
"Let's see what else we've got here. <fishing through mailbag;
pulling out another letter; clearing voice.> Okay, 'Dear
Lynette, my name is Amy and I live in Klamath Falls, Oregon.
I'm 10 years old and I like your show this much:" <pauses.>
"Oh how cute she drew a little line showing how much she likes
my show. Can we get a shot of this?" <showing letter to
camera.> "Carl? Can you get this?" <camera zooms in.>
"Excellent. Great. Okay. 'I am writing you because I have
a... secret, and I don't have a lot of friends so I'm going to
tell you. Okay, here goes: Every night, when I'm in bed, my
Daddy comes in and--'" <pauses, holding letter up.> Is this
some kind of joke? Come on, who pulled the prank on me this
time?" <looking around, smiling.> "Carl? Carl you're
looking pretty suspicious!" <sounds of Carl chuckling.> "Carl!
You silly, silly man! <laughing> You know, they always get me.
But I'm a sucker for practical jokes! ha ha! Ha! ha ha!"
<serious.>
"We'll be right back."
<Cue lame sax&drum music.>
<Cue commercial break.>
<..>
<Cue lame musak.>
<Cue host.>
"And we're back over here in our Craft Cave." <putting on floral
pattern hard-hat.> "You have to be careful here in our Craft Cave.
There's some heavy duty crafting going on! Haha! We've got a very
special guest with us today. This woman is a pioneer in the arts and
crafts department, being the inventor of the Salt and Pepper
Shaker-Napkin Dispenser-Thanksgiving Centerpiece. Marnie? Marnie
Williams? Are you there?"
<Marnie jogging out pleasantly from backstage.>
"There you are!" <both laughing.> "Hi!" <cheek kisses.>
Marnie: "Hi Lynette! I'm so glad to be here! I've got a whole bunch
of fun things for us to create today!"
Lynette: "I'm so excited! You know, <looking into camera> I'd like to
take a serious moment here to discuss the importance of crafts
in the '90's. Without crafts, housewives all around would be
left with nothing to do all day long while her man is out
working and the kids are at school..."
M: "Say it, sister!"
L: "...we would be left to do our expected chores such as laundry and
mopping floors and watching soap operas and other home decor shows
like my own which will slowly but surely lead us all to our sad,
horrible and pathetically boring deaths with nothing to show for
except a few odd heart-shaped wicker baskets filled with dried
leaves and plastic flowers with little balloons and bunnies and
flowerspineconeshazelnutspiceracks....."
<Cue lame music.>
<Cue commercial break.>
<..>
<Cue happy host.>
"Welcome back to House and Home! If you're just joining us I'm
here with Marnie Williams in our Craft Cave <knocking on floral hard
hat.> making crafts! Marnie has already started making something. What
are you making there, Marnie?"
M: "I'm building every housewife's dream come true. It's a decorative
piece I like to call the SquirrelKnocker."
L: "SquirrelKnocker? Can we say that? <looking past camera; nodding>
ha ha!"
M: "It's purpose serves as a doorknocker-slash-squirrel feeder!
<holding up squirrelknocker> You can make them in any material you
like, although my personal favourite would have to be wicker. I
just love wicker. My husband loves wicker, too. He's always
getting his hands on more wicker!"
L: "A real wickerman!" <both laughing> Ha! ha! HA!
M: "Lynette, you *kill* me! Anyhoo, you can add fun little decorations
to your SquirrelKnockers. Mine here has tiny pah-pee-aye mah-shay
flowers all around, with a small decorative sign that says
'SquirrelKnocker' in a nice cursive." <holding up squirrelknocker>
L: "And you can put anything you want on the sign?"
M: "Yes, you can inscribe anything you like on the sign. You'll need a
good model enamel, so that it will survive the harsh treatment of
rain and snow. Personally I like to put a wood finish on my
SquirrelKnockers to add that extra.. je ne sais quoi!"
L: "Wow, isn't that terrific? But, Marnie, what if you're not much of a
Van Gogh?"
M: "So?"
L: "Well how will you make your cute little sign?"
M: "It's not very difficult, Lynette. It's as easy as writing with a
pen!"
L: "Yeah, but what if you're a quadriplegic and are incapable of using
paintbrushes? What then?? How will our quadriplegic viewers be able
to make their own little wooden sign inscriptions??"
M: "Let's move on to our next little craft, the-"
L: "NO! I want to KNOW! HOW THE HELL-" <Marnie walking off set>
<Cue lame fresh&alive music.>
<Cue Commercial Break.>
<..>
<Cue happy host.>
"Hi, welcome back, I'm Lynette Jennings and this is House and
Home. It's time for my favourite part of the show, 'This is Delicious,
Mom!' Cooking with us today is world famous chef, John Wilkinson.
John's appeared in such cooking programs as 'Ready, Set, Cook!' and
'FOOD NOW!'. Come on out, John!"
<John jogging out smiling.>
J: "Hi Lynette, you don't know what a pleasure it is to be on your
public access television program. Really!" <both laughing>
L: "It's great to see you again, John!"
J: "But, we've never met..?"
L: "Ha ha ha HA HA HA ha HAHA John you're such a joker! Anyhoo, what
are we cooking today?"
J: "Well today I thought we'd make something really, very special.
Since the holidays are coming up I was thinking of making some
super-ultra-insanely-low-fat-appetizers for all those Christmas
parties this time of year. All you'll need to prepare these cute
little hors d'oeuvres is some lettuce, wheat germ, and McGarry's
sausages. Looks like we're just about ready to start, Lynette!"
L: "That's great. But what about variety, John? Isn't that what it's
all about these days? Someone doesn't like what the other likes,
and vice versa? Surely you can't serve lettuce wheat germ sausages
all night long?"
J: "Well, that's the fun part, Lynette. With these three simple
ingredients, you can make over 30 different appetizers, all under 3
grams of fat!"
L: "Wow! I like the sound of that! Show us how it's done."
J: "Well, you just get a good saucepan, and chop up some of the lettuce
into it. Make sure it's washed! Then, fry the sausages in a frying
pan until they're nicely browned, periodically sprinkling wheat germ
on them. This will add flavour to the sausages, as well as protein!
Once the sausages are done, wrap a small piece of lettuce around the
sausage and hold it together with a toothpick. Once you're done,
you should have something that looks like this:"
<pulls out huge tray with 30 different sausage creations.>
L: "Wow! Look at all those different kinds of wheat germ sausages
wrapped in lettuce! I don't think I've ever seen such variety!
That's absolutely wonderful, John, really."
J: "It's my specialty!"
L: <to camera> "We'll be right back."
<Cue stolen Oprah music.>
<Cue commercial break.>
<..>
<Cue host.>
"Well, folks, I hate to say it, but that's all the time we have
for today! I'd like to thank my guests today Marnie Williams and John
Wilkinson for their wonderful cooperation. Tomorrow we've got Aikido
champion Bob Su who's going to show us how to make one hell of a shish
kabab! Hope you'll join us. Bah-bye." <waves.>
<Cue midi.>
<Cue credits.>
<Fade.>
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #424, WRITTEN BY: ANONGIRL - 1/13/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #425 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Organic Farming" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Kaia !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
The girl liked boys but thought too much. She snubbed other
girls because she thought she was a princess. She acted like a rare
find because she thought she was full of coyness, cleverness, wit,
independence, and feminine wiles. She thought that by maintaining
some distance from everyone, she'd project confidence and assurance,
but to others she instead seemed a bit unfriendly and standoff-ish.
Men found her attractive, but mostly for her striking combinations
tonight: black hair & red-flicked blue eyes, thin waist supporting
silver velvet glam pants that flared at the hips.
At the club, she mingled only with the scenesters who owned the
hippest boutiques and organized the best parties in the city. If she
didn't perceive you as high-status, she'd ignore you... until she
discovers your critical involvement in the BUGS, WORMS, ROOTS, AND
DEAD LEAVES! THESE ARE AMONG THE TIDBITS FOUND IN OUR TOPSOIL. WE
DON'T USE HERBICIDES OR need! PESTICIDES, AND WE USE COW SHIT AS A
NATURAL FERTILIZER THAT CYCLES THE NITROGEN BACK TO THE please more!
EARTH. WE GROW involvement in planning the annual vampyre ball, a
yearly legend in elegant campiness. But beneath the hard facade, she
was really a sensitive little girl who took everything a little WE GROW
ROWS OF LEEKS, CARROTS, SHALLOTS, need more please more need BEETS,
KOHLRABI, LIMA BEANS, RADISHES, PINEAPPLES, SALAMI, DALAI LAMA, a
little too personally, but SHITFACED, PLASTERED, but actually, she just
needed EGO-STROKING someone to love DRUNK, and fear SCREWED, but A
LITTLE NEUROCHEMICALLY ALTERED not without a chase AND KALE. because
she had a problem with loving people back, and wanted nothing more than
to gain, though coyness, cleverness, wit, independence, and feminine
wiles, the favor of the alpha male.
APHIDS LIKE KALE. WE SPRAY OUR KALE WITH SOAP AND VEGETABLE OIL.
SOAP KILLS THE BUGS, WHILE VEGETABLE OIL MAKES THE SOAP STICK TO THE
BUDS. I MEAN BUGS.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #425, WRITTEN BY: KAIA - 1/13/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #426 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ===========================================
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: "Area 401" !!
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: *or* !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: "RI Telecom From A Feminine Perspective" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Laja 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Well, kidz, what we have here today is a look at what once was
THE SCENE in area code 401. Now, I'm not talking about hacking, writing
text files, creating art, pirating softwarez (ARRRR, MATEY), or anything
cool/psuedo-productive like that. I am talking about the chick scene...
the HOT MODEM MOMMAS which were so often overlooked.
My time in THE SCENE started in 1995. This, of course, being
after everything that was or could have been cool about BBS's and
modems had already happened. This time, lasting a few years before my
arrival, will be forever referred to as THE GOOD OLE DAYS [tm].
So, anyways, it was me, CHICK X, CHICK Y, The Tyrant, SQUINKY,
and a bunch of random Kurt Cobain-worshipping 14 year olds. I
worshipped SQUINKY in his amazing telecom techniquez (see: HOE #334).
For all practical purposes, we can call Tyrant CHICK Z, because, well,
for all practical purposes, he was. We talked about nothing. And we
talked about it a lot. It was cliquey and bitchy and we liked it that
way.
Essentially, there were only two BBS's in my calling area that
didn't suck. Oh well. So it goes. I am not going to go through the
hassle of remembering any details about any of this, because
submitting logs about Area 401 is Squinky's job.
As with most close-knit, 15 year old trios of bitches, we all
started to severely dislike eachother. CHICK Z left us for a life of
passionate sex with a married woman and massive amounts of diaper
changing (see: http://users.tmok.com/~minmei), CHICK X and CHICK Y went
on to live in denial about their torrid lesbian love affair, and I
moved on with my own self to read books, do drugs, geek out, and write
boring text files for HOE.
Isn't that a cute story?
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #426, WRITTEN BY: LAJA - 1/13/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #427 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ===========================================
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: "One man, Standing At The Threshold" !!
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: *or* !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: "I Am An Adventurer!@" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Rantaslin 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
What exactly this title will have to do with the eventual outcome
of this article means little or nothing to me. The true value comes
from the fact that I have no better title, it sounds neat, and it's my
first article for HOE, authored by myself, Rantaslin (for bitterness),
and edited by Teerts (for flow[!?])...
Now let's take a stab at it shall we? After much prodding and
poking by a dear friend of mine, whom some of you probably already
know if you read HOE with any frequency (Teerts), I decided to write
an article. So in my own hack-and-slash style, let's give it a go.
Ahem.
The topic of today's discussion, boys and girls? Consideration
for others, and the entire sociological make up of this town that
Teerts and I know, but doubtfully love, called Reading, Pennsylvania.
It all starts with an average evening of late for myself and Teerts.
I, being the motivator of the group, (well, due more to the fact that
Teerts is the most indecisive S.O.B. that I know, and the rest can be
like lemmings), we gather at my house to plan our activities for the
night. While sitting around, and tossing these nifty little popper
things that fly an amazingly long distance for their size I might add,
we decide that sitting around is definitely *not* what we got together
for, in fact it's what we try to avoid. So as we see it we have two
choices -- Denny's or the Mall(s). We can't decide, so we hop into two
cars (which is a silly idea, since we always get separated along the
way) -- myself and Teerts in the Bugula (ya know, one of those shiny
and nifty new VW creations), and Altrocks and a mutual friend of ours
in the other.
Pulling out onto the bypass... all goes well, until a rather
large truck decides to ride my ass, and not let me merge trafic. After
getting onto the bypass and deciding I don't wanna put up with this
shit right now. I move to pass him... no big deal... three cars in a
row... done this before, just blow right by them. Simple enough right?
Not when the last car you pass is a marked police car without it's
lights on.
Being the astute observer that he is, Teerts exclaims 'That's
a cop.'
Eh, from 85 to 60 in no time flat, but not fast enough. I pass
the cop doing 60 in a 55 zone, and proceed to pull in front of him.
Thinking that he may let me go. I relax... a bit too much...65, and
the white and blue starts to flash. Meanwhile car "B", (Altrocks) sees
all, and manages to get by without a hitch (if you knew how he normally
drove you'd find this hilarious). So, anyway, off the road I pull, and
I prepare to face the worst... my mind racing. Thinking of having to
tell my parents a day before christmas that I got a $70 ticket for
speeding, when the cop walks up and says "If you tell me a little bit
about your car, I'll let you off. I always wanted to see the inside of
one of these, isn't information a good trade instead of a ticket?"
Slightly shaking from surprise, anxiety, and confusion, I do so. The
fact that a man can be so seemingly benevolent amazes me. It kicks ass.
By this time car "B" is long gone, having resumed its crusing at speeds
nearing mach 1.
Teerts and I try vainly to explain this occurence to one another
and we eventually settle on one of two theories: one, the cop was a
sheriff and he knew that some speeding kids aren't really part of the
big crime problem in Reading -- or two, the cop felt pity for me after
seing my Drivers license photo.
We resume our search for car "B". Reaching the farther out of
the two malls, we look around, Teerts suggests that they turned around
and looked for us. Wasting more than half of an hour cruising around
looking for them we eventually return to the mall and find them there.
'Told yah, Teerts,' to which he responds, 'Fuck you, Rant."
Reunited, we proceed through the mall, in all its whack glory.
We see a few friends, continue our cyclic mall procession, and
eventually Teerts and I become alienated... shoved off into a corner.
This pisses us off, we aren't being abnormally prickish (well, Teerts
is, but not me), especially considering the normal level of
prickishness present (often just facetious, though not always) in our
circle of friends. After about 45 mintues of what felt like being
ignored, pissed, and shit on, we get bored and head over to borders,
get a drink read some books, gee great fun. Meanwhile those from
car "B", have still not had the curtesy to catch up with us.
In any event my final observation is that a cop whom I have no
relation to, who owes me nothing, and who knows no more than the
information readily avalible on my drivers license, give me no ticket,
not even a citation or warning, just asks about my car, and bids me a
happy holidays and tells me to be careful, and sends me on my merry
way. At the same time, my friends basically tell me to fuck off. So
it goes, I suppose, and this is just another one of my rants. So I
stand at the threshold, waiting for thought to arrive...
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #427, WRITTEN BY: RANTASLIN - 1/13/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #428 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Lamb of God" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> AIDS !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1998 23:28:04 -0500 (EST)
From: Jarett Kobek <jwk208>
To: <ADDDDRESS OMITTED> (Agnes)
Subject: I WANT TO BE HAPPY / der Zorn Gottes / Agnus Dei
Lamb of God,
What can I say? Were it not so, it would not be, but it is. I
don't know why, but today, the hand of God was upon me.
For wandering through Times Square what did I encounter but
part of the Chiat/Day Levi's What's True campaign, starring either you
or your Doppelganger, tangled up in blue. Much amazement was had by
all, which at the time, was but me alone, wondering if strange
machinations were at work, acasual connecting principles, very
Jungian, Very synchronatic. Or perhaps the work of a higher power?
Perhaps His hand's guidance?
Well, confused as I was, Times Square quickly became too much.
Too, too much. Thankfully it itself lacked a twin. The only possible
solution? Homeward bound, down desolation row, back to the warmth of
the now corrupt, the now suburban neighborhoods.
And then, at the last minute, as if GUIDED by some other force,
I decided to uncover park ranger truths, and cut through Wash. Sq. and
was, upon reflection, confronted with the very living image of
yourself. Certain changes in appearance keeping immediate recognition
impossible, most unusual in light of having just seen your vizage in
duplicate on 48th, but still, what got me a-thinkin' was that ol' blue
jacket and wry smile.
Now that I reflect, I hasten to add in the purchase of _Highway
'61 Revisted_ in Times Square, manic attack of consumerism.
So what does it all mean? I feel like I am an owl in daylight,
befuddled and bewildered. Or a Jew at Christmas. Take your pick.
Anyhow, the only thing I could decipher from today's
synchronicity, definitely acasual, was that God, or whatever the word
represents, was trying to get a message across to me. Then I was
thinking about the Agnus Dei, remembered the translation is Lamb of
God, and knew that I must email you.
Have you been having any visions lately?
-Jarett
--
"If 65 cents buys this much action, I'm hooked on Ghost Rider for Life!"
!!========================================================================!!
Date: Thu, 17 Dec 1998 14:00:01 -0500 (EST)
From: Agnes <@nyu.edu>
To: Jarett Kobek <jwk208@is8.nyu.edu>
Subject: sign
i encounter many signs in life- and most confuse me or make me happy-
bring me to question what really controls my life-reaccess the magic of
life
but this is not a sign, jarett, it's life mocking you. don't forget we
live in cycles and regrets. and i don't necessarily mean taht
maliciously.
-agnes
!!========================================================================!!
This is a copy of the Levi's ad referred to.
!!========================================================================!!
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MD#;;D\`"3M*]U>KU$Q7',TL2DCPE0RCF0=1>^MZD;;0&8[M6XV&AYFO5ZL8]
MN4R-NX`7-^%QP!-2``-U!)8:VTU[*]7JQB!T',=B_;0^2HLH6X`)/<1<5ZO5
M@`DT<ECY;;"??%M#^FD_7([1QN6!8.0;#6S*"/JKU>IJYH%LF)#IZJD9&8W.
MI"JH/9M&@KU>JA(ZK:-Q(M>WVB]=!8MI?Q:%.%[5ZO5@HX"6LRW%M.&A![3]
1%=V#^[/&W+V5ZO5@=.T__]FW
`
end
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #428, WRITTEN BY: AIDS - 1/13/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #429 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "An Agnostic Tourettic Obsessive !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: Compulsive -- He Also Likes Bunnies" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Soybean 1/13/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Touch the knob seven times. (touch, touch, touch, touch, touch,
touch touch.) Take five steps into the bathroom across the hall, with
my toe stopping exactly at the metal rim separating the carpet from the
vinyl bathroom floor. (step, step, step, step, step. oops.) I'm not
sure there's a God. One inch too far. Return, try again: (step, step,
step, step step.) Okay. Turn shower knob to 110 degree angle, let the
water run for twenty seconds, remove clothing. (shirt, pants,
underwear, right sock, left sock.) Why, God? Rid eyes of sleep-crap,
scratch each buttcheek where it meets its corresponding hamstring, scrub
shoulders. No bunnies in the shower. I tried that once already.
Bunnies don't like rough, hot, pounding sprays, it seems. I like those
sprays, but I like my bunnies so much more. I don't scream "BITCH"
involuntarily at my bunnies as I do to my mom and Jenna-who-sits-behind-
-me-in-Ceramics. My bunnies are soothing and rid me of my physical
compulsions. Other people have compulsions, God... Jenny has to go to
the mall every Thursday or she really is a bitch on Friday. No one
shrieks or contorts their face when Jenny goes shopping, though. That's
what people do when I try to lick their nose or their dog's nose seven
times, or when I try to count their fingers. There can't be a God who
allows such things to go on. Only something so full of pure glory as
God could supply me with bunnies to sooth my nervous pain. Maybe I
should have listened in bible study more when I was younger, but it was
so much more interesting to bite each corner of the cover of my Bible.
I thought about being religious until my teacher reprimanded me for
trying to count the priest's five five five five five fingers during
mass, during Eucharist, during the Distribution of the Holy Crackers.
("LET'S GET FUNKY.") (clean.) (dry face, dry shoulders, dry arms, dry
legs, dry back, dry chest.) I like Jenna. (brush teeth.) Dress:
(underwear, pants, shirt, left sock, right sock.) Time to take the five
steps back to my bedroom, cuddle my bunnies and try to take comfort with
me. (step, step, step, step, step.) My favorite bunny is named
Napoleon, though he is not a French military expert, or even a French
bunny, or even a bunny military expect. He is named after the bakery
downtown that has pumpernickel bread that is a lovely shape and that is
a color that is reminiscent of Napoleon-the-Bunny's ears. No
breakfast; breakfast gives me gas. Get in the car, check to see that
all windows are tightly closed, start car, back out of driveway, and
accelerate to 32 mph until we come to the green house with the trolls in
the yard, five houses down. At that point, release gas and coast to a
slow and comfortable and natural stop at the neighborhood gate, leading
onto Landrie St., which leads almost directly to my school, it being
Landrie Senior High School, Landrie being someone who gave someone a
large sum of money. Or so goes my explanation.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #429, WRITTEN BY: SOYBEAN - 1/13/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########:| THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #430 !!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....::|==========================================!!
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##:::::::| "The Glorious Fate of a Boy Who Failed !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######:::| in Life and Then Failed at Suicide, !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...::::| A Story That Proves Beyond The Shadow of !!
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##:::::::| A Doubt that Idiots Get Much More Out of !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########:| Life than any Wise Men, as they Travel !!
HOE #430 -- by Kreid -- 1/13/99| Through Life Amazed and Bewildered" !!
!!========================================================================!!
I feel the need to explain something about myself, in order to
justify my actions or attitude, or something about me which nobody seems
to approve of lately. No matter how hard I try to avoid it, there is
always this trend in me that I possess a strong and deep-rooted hatred
for just about everything in this world. I feel that it is biological,
somehow. I am a naturally hate-filled individual. However: I am not a
violent person. I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to stay away
from everyone. The only reason people get hurt with me is because they
choose to care about me and decide that it's their responsibility to
make me feel happy. This is a huge mistake. I've been alive for quite
some time, and nobody has ever made me feel any differently about this.
Yes, it sucks to be me. It sucks to get involved with me. So stay
away, please.
I think this might be irrelevant to the story I have to tell,
but for some reason it came to my mind instantly when I thought of this.
The story is not about hating, not at all. It's about finding myself
completely in love with the world, momentarily. Yes, this does happen
once in a while. I feel a bit poetic for a little while, I feel like
life is glorious, just until I realize again that I am a complete piece
of shit because I am human. I do feel a little sick right now from
writing that. Yes, I am human, I must keep reminding myself, I must
come to terms with it, as disgusting as it sounds to me. The truth is
always disgusting.
Now, some people who are like me have to use drugs to
momentarily fall in love with the world. I think this is the right way
to get along with life if you're like me, but I would hate to delude
myself like that. I just do it, most of the time, by coming very, very,
close to death, which is what some drugs do to you anyway. So it's a
similar experience, just probably more real and more complicated for me,
the non-drug user, I think. But that's what happened three nights ago
when I found myself in love with the world. Let me explain what
happened.
What was happening when I realized that I was in love with the
world is that I was driving in my car, down this long highway, at
around 4:00 A.M. I must have been going about thirty miles per hour, and
I was probably taking up about three lanes, the way I was driving. I
was really fucking tired, to the point where I wasn't even falling
asleep at the wheel anymore; I was waking up at the wheel, every couple
minutes. Why I wasn't arrested that night, I have no idea. But I made
it home, after driving for about two hours in this fashion. I was quite
a bit amazed. So what I did I do when I got home? I celebrated, of
course. I decided to commit suicide.
I ran upstairs to the bathroom and poured some pills down my
throat. Dramamine. It was fucking disgusting. I ate twenty-two of
them, only stopping after that many because I was on the verge of puking
my guts out. The ingestion of chemicals like this is too often even
more unpleasant than the chemicals' eventual assault on the body. The
fucking Dramamine pills dissolve in your mouth too quickly, you can't
even down them fast enough with a glass of water. You just get this
powdered medicine shit all over your mouth and tongue, and then the
little fuckers get caught in your throat and you have to try to bring
them up again just so you can swallow them, again. A most unpleasant
experience.
I was quite prepared to die, though. I went right over to my bed
and waited for the stomachache to go away, which it did in about five
minutes. From then on it was just a waiting game. Wait for the drugs
to take effect and off you. I felt like I was going to pass out, which
pissed me off since it was a pretty pansy way to die, in your sleep,
that is.
So I got up, which was quite difficult for me, being that the
gravity in the room had increased by about six hundredfold. But I
managed to put one leg in front of the other and stumble about my room
well enough to get to the two-liter bottle of cola I had sitting on my
bookshelf. I picked it up, and started pouring it down my throat. It
took me about five gulps to down the whole thing, then I threw it on the
floor. Then I just let my legs go from underneath me, and I hit the
floor too, right next to the big plastic bottle. I wasn't going to pass
out, though. I got the feeling that I was really going to have to piss
soon, and that was a shitty thought, because I didn't want to flush the
drugs out of my system or anything. I just held it in. I rested there
on the floor for about half an hour before I felt what I perceived to be
death. I was completely paralyzed on my floor, and I got the feeling
that reality was just about ceasing to exist for me. Looking around my
room, seeing it from the ground up, I developed quite a distrust for
what my eyes were putting in front of me. For example, I had this idea
that there was a Picasso on my wall, and it took me about 15 minutes of
staring at it to realize that the painting didn't even exist. A strange
effect, I thought. I've done a lot of illicit substances before and I've
never quite left reality to the degree I did that night.
So I kept waiting to see the grim reaper, or my grandmother, or
something telling me I had finally bit the dust. Of course, it never
happened, as you know, I'm not quite dead right now, unfortunately. The
fucking Dramamine pills did absolutely nothing for ending my life. All
I can see that they did is they gave me this intense experience and
probably left me with about eight ulcers. Anyway, I know I said drugs
just wouldn't do it for me, but that was sort of a half-lie. 18
Dramamine pills made me completely in love with the world. Momentarily.
It was a horrible fucking experience, my stomach hurts just thinking
about it. Every moment of it I just wanted to die or come back to
reality, but I was in that haze for what could easily have been an
eternity. But, eons later, I have awakened, and I am enlightened.
Totally at peace with myself. And it is for this reason that I am
writing this note to you. Now I must be dismissed, I have an
engagement with the medicine cabinet.
Goodbye!
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #430, WRITTEN BY: KREID - 1/13/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #431 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Illicit Substances and a !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: Carefree Lifestyle" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Quarex 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
So there I sat, in the midst of a group of mid to late teenagers,
all of them drinking vodka and alternately smoking pot and cigarettes.
I, naturally, am abstaining, since my purpose in life is the Guy Who
Never Does Anything "Bad." In my perpetual abstinence from all things
fun, I have noticed a great deal of things. Most of them are just
anti-drinking/smoking/etc. dogma. Yes, this is the kind nobody wants to
hear, since its only general purpose is to lead into a war of words which
escalates into either disinterest or ad hominem attacks. So,
naturally, nobody should be subjected to this. However, somewhere along
the line, I started actually putting together a legitimate argument
against all this kind of crap.
When one of my friends first told me that he hated the taste of
coffee when he first tried it, and yet forced himself to drink it until
he was used to the taste anyway, I could only wonder why. Why the fuck
would anyone want to do something that he/she hated, only for the
purpose of being able to do it without hating it later?
Then, it occurred to me that this is a pattern seen in almost every
aspect of life, be it working your way through school, working your way
into a subculture, or just working. People pretty much never like doing
anything, if you take a look at everything. I have learned that things
which I took for granted as being pure unadulturated hedonism, like sex,
drugs, and drinking, are not necessarily any different than coffee.
I talked to that same friend who forced himself to like coffee about beer
once, and sure enough, he had loathed beer when he first started drinking
it, yet eventually convinced himself to enjoy the taste. Similarly, a
girl I knew to be a complete sex fiend also explained that she started
out disliking sex, yet kept doing it beacuse she felt like she was
supposed to do it. Why? Why bother? Is life not enough fucking
bullshit already? Do you really need to add more things you do not
really want to be doing to your life?
Of course, just getting used to something in itself also might not
be such a bad thing on its own, maybe you feel that through triumphing
over adversity, you make yourself a better person. However, how many
people do I know who smoke a pack a day who abhorred smoking when they
first tried it? Way more than I wish I knew. Going from a position of
loathing to a position of addiction is just fucked up. If you do not dig
something when you first try it, why not just try something else? I
mean, would I be drinking five glasses of milk a day if I had not fuckin'
loved that shit since day 1? Hell no! I want my life to be as care-free
as I can make it, and adjusting my tastes to get used to something that
sucks sure as hell does not fit into my idea of a care-free life.
Now, before you go pointing out that you personally have always
loved drugs, alcohol, sex, or whatever, I realize that this does not
apply to everyone. If you have sex once and decide it is the greatest
thing ever, hey, that is an excellent thing for you to be doing. If you
have sex and feel like your soul has been broken into a thousand pieces
as a result, maybe you should try abstaining for a while, or maybe
forever. I could use some company aside from celibate religious
figures, after all. The same obviously applies to anything.
And always remember to metaphorically apply the most absolutely
true statement ever uttered by an animated character that Jon Lovitz
voiced: "If the movie stinks, just don't go!"
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #431, WRITTEN BY: QUAREX - 1/15/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #432 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Run From My Car" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Paganini !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I have a problem. I hit things with my car. This, of course, is
usually not on purpose, but lately I have begun to wonder. It started
out small, with a squirrel and then a racoon-type creature, and then
slowly I graduated into cats and, God forgive me, dogs. Now, after
hitting an actual person, I have decided that maybe it is time I work
on this issue. Maybe it is time I sought some sort of help or twelve
step program. When I first got my license I went for a drive with my
grandmother. It was a nice drive, with my nice grandmother, down a
nice country road, when all of a sudden this squirrel comes flying
down from this tree. He had this determined, evil look in his eye, and
for one second he glared at me, and I froze up. I couldn't stop. My
foot was on the gas pedal and I was going. I hit the little bastard
and my grandmother has yet to forget about it. Every holiday, every
time we see her, she look at me, and with angst all over her face (ha!
Grandma you got angst on your face again...) She looks at me and says
"what are you gonna hit me too?" She's one of those "Don't Hit The
Animals With Your Car" people.
It began there and then it just moved up. I went fishing and on
my way home this little racoon scurried directly into the path of my
car, knowing that I would not be able to swerve in time, thus hitting
him. Months later I hit a cat on my way to school. I barely count this
one though, because it seemed to be limping before I hit it. Thus I was
not the initial hit. All of these are disturbing, yes, but not as
disturbing as the time I hit that dog.
Yes, I would say the dog was the hit that affected me the most.
This was awful. I had just gotten done running at the local bike path
(too many geese there- very scary), when I got into my car to leave.
Everything was fine. I was doing the speed limit and I was almost home,
when, out of nowhere, this dog comes running across the street, and I
crash into him. It wasn't as awful as it sounds. It was one of those
small, yippy dogs, but I still felt bad. I got out of my car and looked
at the dog. I couldn't figure out what to do with it. I wondered if
there were laws concerning this sort of thing. I wondered if I should
just drag it around to some place else, or if I should actually get
into my car and drive over the damn thing.
To make matters completely worse, I noticed that the dog was
still alive. Now, I have to say that I was kind of unmoved initially,
but when the dying dog looked up at me, with those golden eyes of
blue... tears came to my eyes. This is where the situation took a
turn. I heard a door slam, and a man came out of the house across the
street and looked at me and said "What the hell?!?" He was a scary man.
He was wearing a once-white but now grey t-shirt with the word "SHIT"
written on it. I don't remember what his pants looked like, but I do
recall him wearing them. A cigarette was tucked behind his ear, and
another dangled from his mouth. He looked pissed.
He came over to me, my car, and the dead dog, and said "What the
fuck did you do to my dog." Now, this was not the time for smart-ass
remarks. I see that now, but at the time I must not have been
thinking. I looked at the dog and pointed to my car and said "I hit
it." This is where the situation got weird. There were more door
slams, and more scary people. Children began spealing from this house
in mass numbers. Children were running towards me, and running to the
dog. There were 3, 25, 80 children all surrounding me and the car, and
they started to cry. So here I am, five blocks from my house, standing
on an uncomfortably barren street, surrounded by 115 children and their
supposed father. Perhaps the weirdest aspect of this whole ordeal, was
that all the children were calling the dog different names. One called
it Sam, and another called it Crunchy. To make matters interesting, I
had to go to the bathroom.
One would think that I learned my lesson from all this, but no,
I don't learn. I never learn. Ten months ago I hit a guy in the
parking lot of a (dare I say it) mall. He to was swearing at me, but
later we got to know each other, and we dated for nine months, until he
got another girl pregnant. Now, I just stalk him, but that's off the
subject. My point here is that things are always running in front of
my car and I am starting to wonder if there is a reason for all this.
Perhaps this is fate. Perhaps I was meant to hit these creatures.
Maybe they all had rabies, including the ex. Maybe they were all very
old and cancerous, excluding the ex.
Well, ten months have gone by, and I have not consciously hit
anything, except another persons car, which I don't really count. I am
looking forward to driving. I have never gotten a ticket and I have
never kept firearms in my car. However, would like to offer a few words
of advice. Stay away from my car. You should just stay away from my
car. You see, it is not my fault if I hit you. If my car is moving,
and you happen to swing down from some vine, directly in front of the
dented hood of my Honda Civic, I will hit you. Of course, you and I
both know that I don't want to hit you, but if I hit you, I might end
up dating you, or dragging you off the road and hiding you somewhere.
We don't want that. So, people, my name is Sara, and I am a bad
driver, so stay away from my car. Thank you and God bless America.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #432, WRITTEN BY: PAGANINI - 1/15/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #433 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Le Rocke Hyperstructure" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Isaac !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I am in a roofless temple or a large public forum. Suddenly we
are being bombed from underneath us, I see the ground in the distance
explode and shot up in a narrow stream and everyone starts running, so
I start running.
This public place is paved with hard stone or rock ends sharply
at a deep green river about two meters wide. The only way across is a
bridge made of peach and brown colored stones. Most people seem afraid
to cross it. I cross it without hesitation. The other side is tiny
square island which is also paved and contains a taller skinny white
brick building. A hand full of people are in here standing on a thin
side walk surrounding it. I see a girl I know as 'liz'. I embrace her
and start to kiss her. I black out or something and I am transported
into the future.
I wake up and every where I look is just walls and doors, like a
great inescapable super-building and it is full of people. Liz is gone
and I have a desire to finding her. I ask around as I go from room to
room. Then I pay one guy some money to let my through a door. It
leads to a large public area that seems much brighter and cleaner.
I then walk up these steps and I come to this first room and
there are these really old women at vanities all covered in make-up.
They just stared at me as I walked through the room, and I ask them if
knew where Liz is and of course they didn't say anything. So then I go
into the next room and it also has some women in it but I forgot what
they looked liked. Then I open a door that leads to a hall going to my
left. The light is really dim. I see like this glass tank with a
womens head in it. It is kind of bloody and has tiny tubes and wires
running out of the bottom and then it sees me and just starts screaming.
I run out of there. When I get to the room with the old women their
looks make it hard to leave the room. Then, I go down the steps I went
before. I had these writing pens and throw them at this guard person.
Two of them stick in his body and one in his head. When the one hits
his head he falls over dead. I keep running down the steps and get to
the bottom. Someone else gets me and I fall over. I just lay there
motionless and they restrain my legs with this metal thing. Then, some
old scientist guy comes out and tells them to let me go, and them tosses
me this enormous green pale brain in a plastic bag. I take it rub it
all over my face and admire it.
Then get up and again start asking people if they know where Liz
is and one small boy says yes.
"where is she!?", I say.
He is silent and everyone looks at him like "what are you doing!".
Then I feel sorry for him.
"Nevermind you dont have to tell me. Thank you for speaking up
though."
He walks off with some people.
Then, a person steps out and becomes my friend or guide and
starts to lead me around. He first takes me to this house where this
lesbian couple lives, a white skinny women and the other is a very large
black women and they have four children, two are white and skinny girls
and the other two are older tall and skinny black girls. The couple's
faces are very ugly. The tall skinny one is standing up and the fat
black one is sitting down on a rock ledge of a very large window.
I am then taken to a room with words scribbed all over it and
this is the "room of god" and there is one shy silent girl who lives
there. She is wearing a very old dirty blue dress. I quietly try to
say something and she is says "what?", and then I quietly whisper "C'EST
LA VIE?" and she becomes wide eyed and covers her mouth in shock.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #433, WRITTEN BY: ISAAC - 1/15/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ===========================================
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: "A Little Too Much About Me" !!
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: *or* !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: "A Standard Fucked Up Irc.girl" !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Meenk 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
ten minutes to 6am, the day after christmas. i sit on irc, for
lack of human interaction elsewhere. as pathetic as it is, the lack is
not because of the hour, though i am an insomniac, but because of my
disappointment with almost everyone i know. this has also carried onto
irc. i am at that point in the irc cycle where i have dismissed most of
the people i talk to as insincere and unimportant. as irc people should
be, or so i am told. there are a few who really do matter to me though.
i guess i am one of the worst irc people. i acknowledge the value of
people i have never met. being the antisocial creature i have chosen
to be, my standards don't include real world interaction.
the holiday, and familial interaction that it imposed (though
all through fiber optics) has caused me to take a look at myself as i
was, and as i am. i am a very sentimental person, and when i have times
of reflection i delve deep into my soul. i realize how lonely i am and
how much i keep from myself and everyone around me. the purpose of this
file is to exorcise my demons, and lay myself bare for all to see. this
is your warning, if you don't want to know, stop reading now. for the
few that remain, maybe, here I am.
so tonight was one of those rare nights when I found myself
reaching out to strangers. I had a long conversation with my best friend
whom I have just left, in an unfamiliar city, a victim of his willpower,
or lack thereof. i told him, for the thousandth time, how much i care,
and to take care of himself, since I could not. i have an extreme
maternal instinct. i need to care for those i care about, and it has
just gotten worse over the years. i brought up to him, the loss of my
friend nova, the one person i would have died for. a similar thing
happened. i left town, chasing after dreams, she went on with life.
ended up dying of a heroin overdose. i can't go through it again, so i
pleaded with him to take care. if only i could be there. if only i could
have been there. i made vague future plans with him, maybe on the
superstition that i won't lose him if we have such an appointment.
he proceeded to go to bed and i realized that he and i were not
the only people in the channel. there was one more, who out of
courtesy, indifference, or embarassment, stayed silent as i allowed
myself to succumb to fear. i made a truce with fear long ago, and
rarely did it ever take hold of me, anymore. though the third party
remained silent i remembered how important vulnerability can be.
honesty, innocence. not expected from anyone over eight years old, yet
so important. this person had seen a side of me few ever do. i began to
look for someone to whom i could talk to, without feeling threatened,
in my sensitive state. but why hide it? because i am an irc.girl and
irc.girls are supposed to be tough? because this mass of strangers will
grab onto what they can and tear you apart? i get picked on every
single day, without refrain, for being a slut, for being dependant, for
being weak.
what is left for me to hide? i am already regarded amongst those
who see me that way as the lowest of the low. besides, no one can hurt
me as much as I can, and do, hurt myself. i will not deny being less
than sane, i will not deny that i have been around, and i will not deny
that i cry. even now, my face is stained with tears. tears of regret.
tears for those i have let down, tears for those whom i have had to
abandon, tears for those whom i will hurt in the future.
i was once told that i am transparent to everyone but myself.
maybe this is true. maybe you all are already aware of my struggles with
my emotions and i deluded myself into thinking i kept them private. i
feel i have come a long way though, and there is no one who has been in
my life long enough to see the progress, except me. i recall a time when
all emotions i had, happiness, sadness, anger, excitement, were intense.
so intense i could not handle them.
the positive emotions were easy to use constructively. i was an
overachiever, tried my hardest at everything. brought home straight As
for years, tested at 99-100 percentile academically, won presidential
awards numerous times. i was in the most advanced classes the district
would allow me to take, going to my special classes, on the short bus,
where we would take things apart, invent things, be observed while
doing puzzles. i was also cutting myself, punching holes in doors (the
foam core ones.. i was 8..), and having blackouts. my mother tried to
have me committed when i was 10, they wouldn't take me. i went to live
with my father instead.
my stepmother was elated that she had a little girl to do stuff
with. i was a girlscout, did crafts with her for the christmas sale at
school, even went out to dinner with her the day I got my first period.
my dad was doing well, had a successful career, and regularly took me
to all the cool places in the bay area. my little sister was like my
little doll. i continued to excel in school, winning spelling bees,
math and history competitions, as well as filling up the little bar
graphs on the state comprehensive tests. up to par. i hadn't had any
sort of episode the entire time. then, my stepmother decided to
separate from my dad. i was about to go into 7th grade.
she moved to oregon, i opted to remain with my father. i rarely
saw my dad after she left. he worked, i went out (11:00 curfew), he was
asleep when I came home, gone when I woke up. we both liked this just
fine, for a while. i had drawn the attention of a guy at school, one of
the harder gangsters. i heard rumours about him 'claiming' me. one
night he got me. after that, at school, people looked at me
differently. i would walk to class while people talked, sometimes
behind their hands, sometimes for all to hear, about the girl that gave
it up to adrian. i went home and dragged an X-acto<tm> knife across my
wrist. stupid move. not only did i do it the wrong direction, but i
couldn't cut deep enough to do more than make a big ugly scab. i was 12.
i gave up on the knife and gathered every pill in the house. i
swallowed them with a Quik Stop cup full of water, then laid down to
await my fate. after a while i felt like i had been chewing on foil,
and my stomach was cramping. i puked up white grit then passed out.
the next day i awoke to the phone. school wanted to know why i wasnt
there. i said i was sick. i sounded plenty sick. the edges of my vision
was decorated with what seemed to be black lace, and i felt like my
ears were full of water. i freaked out and called a suicide line to
see if i had eaten enough pills to die. i hadn't. i panicked and tried
to strangle myself with a phone line. it hurt, and i passed out, though
not from lack of oxygen. i stayed home for a week, and my hearing was
still fuzzy for a while after i went back to school. only one person
noticed the scab. she didn't say anything.
within two months my dad realized something was not right with
me, and while listening in on my phonecalls learned that i had slept
with a guy in my neighbourhood. he put me in the car and 9 hours later
i was under lockdown (by my parents) at my stepmother's. i tried to
tell them what happened and was called various names, same names i
hear from people i don't know today. i discovered drugs. heroin. the
soothing smoke. i ratted out my dad for fucking some chick, out of
spite. the entire household became chaos. my stepmother moved us into
a house her boyfriend (nice politics, eh?) had bought her. she ditched
him, brought my dad into the house, fucked the ex on the side, and
tormented me for the trouble. my dad was threatening suicide. one
morning, before school, i got all of my sister's sleeping pills,
swallowed them dry, and slept.
i woke up because i hit the floor. i had very little muscle
control and managed to get out to the hallway and fall down the stairs.
my stepmother was home and yelled at me, asking why i was home. i
couldn't speak. i studdered, forgot what i was saying as i tried to say
it, and convulsed. she freaked out and demanded that i tell her what
was wrong. i produced dozens of empty pill blisters and she helped me
to the car. i faded in and out on the way to the hospital. liquid
charcoal, tubes, and six hundred dollars later, i was ready to go home.
the hospital was used to it and didn't have time for psych evaluations.
my older sister worked the pity party for as long as she could, but
when people saw i didn't care, they didn't either. other shit happened,
and i left home. i was 14.
i moved in with a boy, young and stupid like me, with a house of
his own. we played Donna Reed for a while, but he soon felt the wrath
of my temper, and my fists. thank god he never hit me. i stayed with
him for a couple years, hating and adoring him all at the same time.
we got in a car accident and i had to go home to my dad and stepmother.
nothing changed, except i was on crutches. i left again 3 months later.
on the street for a month and a half, then back to the ex for another
year. i left him for someone else. now, he and i would have had 2
children.
my new love and i went to see my mother for the first time in six
or seven years. he was a recovering heroin addict. he never touched it
while we were together, but when he left my mothers to go to his family
he started again. i couldn't deal with the fighting and i stopped
speaking to him. he was the last person i hit. i couldn't handle the
violence anymore. i became incredibly subservient and tried my hand at
other failed relationships (big surprise), and failed attempts to find
something to hold on to.
now, i remain in what i like to call 'constructive apathy'. i may
seem like an uncaring, unfeeling bitch, but at least I am not hitting
anyone. i am still trying to put my life together and make friends that
I can count on to be there, not judge, be honest, and hopefully, not
die on me. i once again have the will to live, and the desire to do
more than merely exist.
"i sentence you to be exposed before your peers..."
I am human, I make (a lot of) mistakes, and sometimes I get
overwhelmed. I didn't write this to be picked apart, though I expect it.
I didn't write it for pity, I wrote it to possibly be understood. or not.
none of you matter to me unless I want you to, anyway. I wrote this on
my terms, because I wanted to. if you have a problem with it, tell
someone who cares.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #434, WRITTEN BY: MEENK - 1/15/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "The Insistence of Meaning" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Neko !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
...And it hit too close to home. I refused to ignore it anymore
even though it was obviously expected of me.
"No."
...And I can't anymore. Can't be right, can't be wrong, can't do
good, can't do bad. Can't think. Can't feel. Can't know.
"No."
...And I don't anymore. I don't feel. Completely numb. My
stomach churns rapidly at the thought. But nothing comes of it. I
wonder if anything ever did.
"No."
...And I still wonder. There is a future. It's not vmeste,
obviously, but if not s nei, s kem?
"No."
...And I guess time will go on. And I will lick my wounds and
return to the battleground that is life. But I don't want to. Not this
early.
"No."
...And I am supposed to be friends. But it's quite a change. I
was a friend to begin with. But it progressed. Now I suppose it has
regressed, although I don't quite feel it. Deal with it.
"No."
...And I wonder how. How. HOW?
"No."
...And maybe there is a yes out there for me. Just maybe.
"No."
...And sometimes the things you have don't make you happy. But
do the things you don't have make you happier?
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #435, WRITTEN BY: NEKO - 1/15/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Only in Quebec" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Anjee !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
You all probably know how retarded French Canadians are, and the
purpose of this t-file is to prove you all right. Not only do they
have the IQ of your average house fly [(c)Satan], but myself and a few
other humans have witnessed their idiocy. Here's what we found:
Jesus on pipes:
===============
While wandering in malls located in the outskirts of Montreal
around Christmas time, Jesus was spotted sitting on a chair
playing the pipes while a 800 pound white dog rested peacefully
a few inches from the claimed Jesus' feet.
Sunflower people:
=================
Walking at the Old Port in Montreal on hot days can normally
lead to craving cold substances, such as ice cream. As myself
and 4 other people were headed towards an ice cream store, we
were suprised to see approximately 5 to 6 fully grown men and
women dressed up as sunflowers. This caused a friend to order
cheesecake on his ice cream cone. Exposure to such craziness
is fatal!
AnonGirl:
=========
On weekends, if you find yourself to be near any bar, you may
have the opportunity to view this exibit for yourself. Anon,
dizzy and discoordinated from the excessive consumption of
alcoholic beverages, has often been seen attempting to direct
herself to her home, to get on IRC to expose her drunken self,
then promptly heading to bed. But she's not french, she's just
nutty.
French Rappers:
===============
Displeased with their rejection from the rest of the country,
and the USA, these wannabe's try to blend in with the rest of
the world by using music. However, these rappers are not black,
are French, and can't rap. They're really stupid too.
That's pretty much all I can remember, I think the stupidity
runs in the water. So if you are planning to make a trip to Quebec,
please arm yourself and be ready for anything. And I mean anything.
Unfortunately, I must live with this every day. Pity me.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #436, WRITTEN BY: ANJEE - 1/15/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Boogiemen Are Scary" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Aster !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
this is about boogiemen. they live in voids and wind and dark.
there are many different kinds that do many different scary things.
there is the standard, run-of-the-mill kind that comes on dark
and windy nights to little kids windows. these ones have no name but
they are the most commonly known.
the soul-eating kind
====================
these are the most most dangerous, but don't worry, they are very
rare. since the great oblig defeated most of them in a battle many
thousands of years ago since then they only come out on the very very
very worst nights and only prey on the certain people that they chose
their henchmen and spys are the invisible harmless kinds.
the furry kind
==============
the furry kind is espeacialy evil because it has all the cute
little furry animals as it's friends and helpers. so beware of bunnys,
kittens, puppies... big feirce bears are much better to become friends
with of dinaosoursa or something of that not-furry-cuddly sort.
the kart-wheel kind
===================
you can eat these ones. they are yummie. they taste good in
crab cakes or grillled chesse sandwhiches, but becareful that you only
use a special trap when you kill them because otherwise they will swallow
you whole and yucky poo.
the blue kind (with orange eyes)
=================================
they're bad cause blue is yucky. they are pretty harmless...
they cannot see you unless you are wearing orange.
the invisible harmless kind (the only harmless ones)
====================================================
they are spys for the yucky bad kind that eat your soul. beware
they cannot hurt you but can tell the bad ones where you are.
the ping-pong-ball kind
=======================
these ones are very veyr veyr rare you can only find them in
three places: thailand, LITTLE TINY BOXES VERY VEYR TINY AND the
packages for certain ed gorey books but they can poke your eyes and ears
and mouths and kill you.
the hijkljfiuwefns kind
========================
not much is known about these.
they came from the moon but like to live here better. it is
paradise for them here. they like to eat apple pie and apple juice and
apple crisp and anythign apples. they also like beet juice. they like
to poisen orange juice that people drink.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #437, WRITTEN BY: ASTER - 1/15/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #438 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Alcohol Discoveries On Electrifying" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> M4D 3LF !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I went drinking with my mom and my mom's boyfriend on Christmas
Eve. Don't ask my why, I knew they were going to do their best to get
me drunk. I started off with a Mountain Dew, I was trying to play it
cool, but I had good reason to get fucked up so I moved on to Zima (no
Hooch, damn).
After I had three Zimas they brought out the 100 proof fire water,
I was feeling pretty tipsy (yeah, I'm way a lightweight) but I still had
the brains to say "No way". After a bloody mary and two beers? Well,
let's just say that I lost my instinct of self-preservation. I downed
a double shot of the fiery concoction and slammed the glass on the bar.
My throat burned and coughed out a slurred, "Did they go they go over to
the gas station to fill my glass?" Ha ha. Two more beers, one more
double shot, I was dancing with death. Mom was driving back to her
boyfriend's house; her boyfriend hanging out the passenger door, me
hanging out the sliding door, puking our guts, and anything else we
had, out.
I woke up on the bathroom floor, dazed, with the most awful taste
in my mouth. To paraphrase Stephen King's "The Stand", I felt as if a
baby dragon had been using my mouth as a training potty. Christmas was
uneventful, but I was glad not to have a hangover, only an uneasy nausea
anytime anyone mentioned shots or fire water.
Later on that week, I was reading Anjee's t-file, "Electrifying
Discoveries On Alcohol", (HOE #389) it reminded me of my recent
experience with alcohol and my experiences with electricity. Being a
lover of all things electronic, I've been electrocuted a good many times.
None sticks out in my mind as the time I was replacing the turntable on
my Admiral console stereo. It wasn't a problem to remove the back panel
and I was soon rewarded with the beautiful sight of cris-crossing red,
blue, and orange. I quickly located the screws holding the turntable's
suspension to the main unit and removed them, Charity, my wife, watching
disapprovingly. I then turned the turntable over and examined the
underside in better light, tracing the audio wires from the amplifier.
Tugging lightly where they met the unit, I found they were connected with
standard RCA type plugs, but the power wires were soldered to the unit
and had to be cut. Leaning over the top of the console, I was hanging,
upside down, stripping the wires with my teeth (boy I need a wire
stripper) when my forehead came in contact with the other wire,
completing the circuit.
/|
/ |
/ |
/ |
/ |
/ |
/ /
/ /
/ /
/ /___________
/ /
ZZZZZZZZZZ AAAA PPPPPPPPPP
ZZZZZZZZZZ AAAAAA PPPPPPPPPPP
ZZZ AAA AAA PPP PPP
ZZZ AAA AAA PPP PPP
ZZZ AAA AAA PPPPPPPPPPP
ZZZ AAAAAAAAAA PPPPPPPPPP
ZZZ AAAAAAAAAA PPP
ZZZ AAA AAA PPP
ZZZZZZZZZ AAA AAA PPP
ZZZZZZZZZ AAA AAA PPP
/__________ /
/ /
/ /
/ /
/ /
| /
| /
| /
| /
|/
I fell to the floor in a crumpled mass, paralyzed, my wife
standing over me saying "Steven, Steven!", shaking me. When I regained
control of my motor skills the only thing I could do was laugh at
myself, of course Charity thought I was joking and proceeded to yell at
me for scaring her. I got up slowly, shook my head to clear the cobwebs,
and fell back down. I tried to console Charity, but my tongue wasn't
working with my mouth, the dynamic duo just couldn't get it right this
time. She was now convinced that I had fried my brain, but I rose to my
feet again, unplugged the stereo, and finished what I was doing.
So, what are my thoughts on shots of 50% alcohol vs. sticking
your tongue in a electrical socket? I'd choose to stick my tongue in a
socket again. Although the effects of electrical shock are pretty
short-term, you don't get the hangover and nausea you get with alcohol.
Plus electrocution is relatively easy to obtain; a shot of 100 proof
alcohol could run you in excess of $3, more if you're under age, while
there's sure to be an open electrical socket where ever you are. The
best reason of all, however, is the fact that you can scare the living
bejesus out of your friends, relatives, or significant other.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #438, WRITTEN BY: M4D 3LF - 1/15/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Confetti On Your Head" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Mogel !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Greeting people with the traditional "what's up?" or how "how are
you?" has become increasingly more of a default, it seems. This might
sound stupid, but why bother asking if you don't care? I realize this
could be one of those polite phrases that doesn't *have* to require an
answer... but for some reason asking a non-rhetorical question and not
expecting an answer seems silly. The worst part, though, are the
answers that people do give. It's almost always the same.
"What's up?"
"Not much."
"What's new?"
"Not much."
"How're you?"
"Fine." (or, alternatively "Good" or "Okay".)
The other day, when walking with my sister, she spotted one of
her friends. They both said "What's up?" at the same exact time, and
neither of them even answered the question. Am I the only person on
the face of the planet that finds this odd?
It's even gotten to the point where if people actually answer
the question with anything other than the above phrases, they are
considered weird. For a while I would tell people honestly how I was
doing or what was going on if they asked. You'd be surprised how many
people were shocked that I actually answered.
This wouldn't bother me if I didn't have to deal with with every
other person I run into on a daily basis. Once, as an experiment, I
tried this on my friend:
Mogel: "What's up?"
Friend: "Not much."
Mogel: "No, really. What's up?"
Friend: "Not much!"
Mogel: "C'mon, there has to be something!"
Friend: "NO, NOTHING IS UP."
Rather than the oh-my-god-that's-witty literal humor response of
"the sky!" (or "the ceiling!"), I decided that a more effective way to
deal with the problem is that when people ask "What's up?" I will
respond by screaming "PARTY!", and throwing a handful of confetti over
their head.
They will be surprised and excited by the fact that something
truly is going on... a party! That's right, throw a little spice into
a common, empty question. It's a party!
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #439, WRITTEN BY: MOGEL - 1/15/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #440 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Ignorant Guardian" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Trilobyte !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/15/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
i have completely unknowingly managed to alienate everyone.
me, being the pathetic thing that i am, and me, being a granite figure
guarding the entrance to the place of all that is good. before, there
was some chance of someone entering and finding what is good.
unfortunately, now, that is not the case. i don't know why, but
everyone's too scared to come anywhere near me, so i stand near the
gate, lonely.
while standing there, i look at the ground or at the gate. i
used to survey the good things inside. that was back when people still
weren't too afraid to enter. but now that nobody ever seems to pass by
me, or come near me, i find it too depressing to look in there because i
know that nobody will ever see what's inside.
i don't know if anybody is still in there. it seems like it's
been so long since anybody has gone in... maybe everyone who went in
became so old that they died. i can't get that old, i'm made out of
stone. kinda depressing, if you think about it. but don't think about
it too long, because you might realize that i'm really not all that bad
of a guy and you've been avoiding me for this long for no reason.
you see, that is everyone's problem. they can't think about
things for long enough anymore. they think about something and then it
disappears from their head before they can figure it out.
that's just one of the problems with people today.
people just don't know anything. they may think of me and fill
up with hatred. but they don't know why! they don't bother to wonder
why they hate me. i am just made of stone. but people hate me all the
same. that's completely irrational. that's pure ignorance right there.
well, what the hell. i'm going to go inside the place.
ok, there's nobody around. there are trees, video games, books,
old cars. oh wait... there's a lady. i'll walk over to her.
she's running away from me through the tall grass.
i'm yelling at her to come back. no, she's still running away.
oh, haha, she tripped on a stereo. ok, now i've caught up with
her. i ask her how she's doing. she just looks at me. what? my arm
just moved. my arm fell down quickly. fell down right quick. oh,
there's a sword in my hand. my sword cut through her body. whoops.
ehem. i will return to my post by the gate.
wow. that was not so good. there are some nearby people
looking at me. when they my gaze meets theirs, they turn and run away
from me. why? why do these people constantly fear me? what have i
done? i don't understand. there are still some people looking at me.
my left arm lifts up and its gun aims at them and shoots, knocks down a
couple of them with a few shots.
maybe i should return to guarding the gate to the place with lots
of good stuff. i just remembered how much i like it in there. there
are good books, and old cars and things. everything that's good in this
world. why don't more people come to visit? why are people so scared
of me?
i look at my feet. it's beginning to rain. i like the rain. it
helps plants to grow. the cement sidewalk i'm standing on becomes a
dark gray color. nobody's anywhere. people are so ignorant. they
don't understand. they just don't know what they're doing. they're
missing out on someplace great, just because they're scared of me for
some stupid reason.
is it because i'm made of stone?
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #440, WRITTEN BY TRILOBYTE - 1/15/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #441 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "K-R4D vs. Emoticons :)" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Phairgirl & M4D 3LF !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
|<-R4D: 1 b d4 3l1te h4x0r cr4x0r ph3x0r s3x0r3st mutha phuka
d0nt m4k3 m3 hax0r y0 punk a55 5ki11it
Emoticons: :(
|<-R4D: y0 m4n d0nt fux0r wit m3 1 g0t d4 m4d skillz
1 b g3ttn r00t on y0 a55 d3n it b rm/ rf
ph34r m3 1 sex0rd y0 mama wit my TRS-80
Emoticons: >:(
|<-R4D: fj00 1 t0l y0 n0t 2 fux0r wit m3 1 b pullin my elite expli0t5
i b DoSn y0 punk a55
i bl0w y0 bitch a55d win95 sh1t to d4 fl00
Emoticons:
** <
\\ OO w
\\ *OXXO* w
\\ OO w
\\ O W=====\
>> --oO X |
// O M=====/
// OO m
// *OXXO* m
// OO m
** <
|<-R4D: m0mm33!
Emoticons: :)
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #441, BY PHAIRGIRL & M4D 3LF - 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "News Flash: Women Are Not Helpless" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Nitro-187 !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with a friend of mine
whose opinions I usually hold with a lot of regard. I was completely
aghast when he started talking about how strip clubs were degrading to
women and ought to be shut down. Then I started thinking about how just
about everyone I know who has a somewhat liberal frame of thinking
agrees with just that. There are even bands in the hardcore community
that seem to convey the message that women in pornography and such
things are complete victims being abused by a patriarchal society. I
think that this idea is extremely flawed and dangerous. It just
reinforces the idea that women are helpless.
By buying into that line of thinking, you are completely ignoring
a woman's right to express and make a living in any way she sees fit.
You wouldn't want a blind person to drive frieght trucks, but you would
want someone who had a clear head and was free from any kind of
emotional problems to operate on you. Women who are physically
attractive or considered to be appealing in a sexual way who want to
strip or prostitute themselves are no different. Job skills. The
arguement is that men who see women stripping and patron prostitutes
are only viewing them in a sexual manner is completely pointless. I
seriously doubt that people who say that are interested in the
personality or the life history of the person who is waiting your table
or pumping your gas. They are there to serve you and nothing else.
The anachronistic notion that a woman has to maintain her
virginity and remain "clean" dates back to a time when women were
considered as nothing but property. No matter what, their ideas and
intellect were completely ignored and they had no material possesions to
give to a man. She only had her virginity. While there still is a lot
of sexism and inequality going on, women are treated better here and now
than they have been in any Judaic or Islamic society. So the idea that
a women has only her sex to give is obsolete.
The idea that sexuality is inherently wrong is the single largest
opressor of women. The first recorded civilization, the Sumerians, not
only gave women complete sexual freedom as did men, but worshipped them
as goddesses. Women were the givers of life. They were allowed to
transact in the market place and own property just as men did. In fact
it was because of this that civilizations first alphabet and scriptures
were devised by a group of women who were more or less the government of
the province called the Naditu. Sex was not understood to impregnate
women, it was not considered to defile either the male or female. It
was just another recreational activity. It was not until the isrealite
cult of judaism gained power and destroyed the greatest city in the
world at the time, Babylon, that their ideals of shame were inflicted on
the masses. The male dominated tribe's main scriptures dealing with
creation ended with a woman tempting a man into comitting sin and
displeasing the male god. Her punishment was the pain of child birth.
Doh.
Throughout their scriptures women are a great temptation and
should be avoided. Since women tend to be less physically strong than
men they were quickly subdued and made into property that meant little
more to men than cows or chickens. Since the sexual urge is the
strongest natural biological reflex, they knew that if sexuality could
be controlled than you can control every facet of someone's life. So
extensive sexual laws were put into place. Their blood was upon them,
you know the speil.
Today if you will look at modern nations. The contrast that
existed between Sumerian-Babylonian (their cultures were very similar,
they both worshipped the same goddess, "Ishtar") and the Isreali
cultures is still in place. Denmark, where anyone regardless of age
can purchase a Hustler Magazine and get into a strip club has strict
laws to prevent discrimination of women. The rates of domestic
violence, rape and other such crimes is among the lowest in the
industrialized world. Fundamentalist cultures such as that of Libya and
Lebanon have no pornography at all. They also are the most opressive
nations in the world to women, I'm sure you know that in these countries
women are not allowed to own anything, to drive a car or even in most
cases to show their faces to a man the is not their husband. A similar
situation exists in Singapore, where the neo-fascist People's Action
Party (who reminds me a great deal of the _Orwellian_ Party) places all
kinds of restrictions on literature and media to produce a "clean"
image. Penthouse is banned and so is Red Book. Nudity on any image
that is not that of a classical form of art such as Michaelangelo's
_David_ is generally banned. Singapore has a huge problem with rape
and other crimes against women.
Any research you do on the correlation between pornography and
violence will always point you in one direction: PORN DOES NOT ENCOURAGE
VIOLENCE. If anything it quells the desire to commit various sexual
acts that are not acceptable by most people such as pedophilia,
beastiality and rape. Kiddie porn is readily available in Denmark,
child molestation is pretty non-existant. In the United States, where
it is extremely illegal, we'll hopefully you get my point by now.
I'm sure you've heard televangelists speak of how the AIDS virus
is the wrath of God. If you were to analyze the situation you'd find
out this:
_CHRISTIANITY_ IS THE MAIN CAUSE OF AIDS.
Neo-Puratanism, Victorianism and these type of attitudes that
were held by most of the officials in the U.S. Governement at the
time... and _they_ are responsible for the widespread of the virus. At
the time, heterosexuals tended not to get the new "Gay Cancer". It was
pretty much segregated into certain populations such as Hatian
prostitutes and patrons of gay brothels in larger U.S. cities such as
New York and San Francisco. If these populations were quarantined and
research was done on them to find out the origins of the disease, then
it would not be killing millions every year. It shouldn't have been
difficult, look at how much they knew about Patient Zero and everyone
that he had sexual relations with. Of course, that didn't happen
because politicians were more interested in maintaining the favor of the
puritans who vote for them, and doing anything at all to associate
themselves with sexual deviants like prostitutes and homosexuals would
damage their career. In the later part of the 1980's, when more
research was conducted and it was determined that blah blah blah --
_that_ should have been the end to illegal prostitution. Government
does regulate damn near every industry. Regulating prostitution to
where they had to use condoms similar to the way that doctors have to
wear gloves would cut down on new AIDS cases significantly. Of course
that's contrary to the nature of the people of this country and
probably will never happen. It's just an idea.
i'm sure you've noticed a recurring theme here: PURITANICAL IDEAS
ARE THE BASIS FOR SEXISM, THEY ARE OBSOLETE. ANYONE WHO EMBRACES THEM
IS UNABLE TO BREAK THE CONDITIONING THEY HAVE RECIEVED FROM SOCIEY. IF
PURITANISM WAS OBSOLETE LIKE IT SHOULD BE, THEN ELLEN DEGENERES WOULD NO
LONGER HAVE A CAREER. NOW _THAT_ WOULD TRULY BE A BETTER TOMORROW.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #442, WRITTEN BY NITRO-187 - 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Purple" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Tasha !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Purple is my favorite color. Actually, lavendar is, but that's
part of the "purple family", so it all works out nicely. Either way, I
want everything to be purple. I have a really pretty purple pen that I
save just for drawing on the letters I write to people, because, even
though I'm not very good at it, I like to draw, but that's besides the
point. And what's the point? I have no fucking clue, but I think it
has something to do with the color purple, which is, as you already
know, my favorite color. Purple reminds me of..I think it reminds me
of preschool, but I didn't like preschool, so then how would purple be
my favorite color? Maybe it reminds me of some imaginary idea of
preschool which is all finger painting and eating paste, or something.
Finger painting using mainly the color purple, I might add.
But that's not the important part, the important part is that
I'm slightly color blind, and what is purple to me is blue to everyone
else. I think that constitutes as color blind. Either way, I'm going
to live my whole life thinking blue is purple, and thinking purple is my
favorite color. Then, I'll tell everyone that purple is my favorite
color, and maybe they will judge me on my favorite color, and judge me
wrong, because I think blue is purple. And my grandma was supposed to
tell me that purple is really blue, but she forgot, and she won't
remember until she is on her death bed, and by then it will be too late.
She'll croak and little, with all these veins and needles running into
her body, and say something like "purple is really blue, tasha." And to
her it will be the most innocent comment ever, sort of like a duty, you
know? But then she won't realizing that she's ruining my whole world!
Because my room is purple, and my room is my whole life, as you may very
well know. And then I won't have a life anymore, or, rather, I will have
a life but it won't be the right life because I've been living under this
misconception of the color purple.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #443, WRITTEN BY TASHA - 1/18/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #444 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Understood" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Mutter !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
To be misunderstood you must first understand yourself. Let's
face it, I have no idea why I do the things I do. Therefore, since I can
only be either understood or misunderstood (and since I'm not
misunderstood) I must be understood. Understand?
To appreciate writing you must first familiarize yourself with
the concept of bulldada -- the principle that tells us that something
can be so bad that it's good. Right now this must be fucking incredible.
A game. A game within a game. Silver Monopoly pieces on
Broadway Ave. playing a hardy game of chess on a board relatively
miniaturized. And the pawns on that board gather round the center to
play a game of cards. Oh, look. A straight flush. The puppet master
himself has strings which are inconspicuously attached to his limbs. He
concentrates on only his part, his role to play. He is unaware of the
things he is unaware of.
"Thank you for this prestigious award. I'd like to thank the
losers -- I couldn't have done it without you."
oh shit I'm bleeding; did someone shoot me; eh, doesn't matter;
congratulations; you got me right in the heart;
"I never enjoyed walking because I always had somewhere to walk to."
will someone please kill my tv; the numbers keep scrolling; my neighbor
bought one today; there's nothing wrong with it; when he gets mad he
turns purple; so are his veins; purple; I'm lactose intolerant; but you
already knew that;; FOR LIFE!; stone faced men with glasses and bad
bow ties; a flag can't wave on the moon; FUCK THAT -- we'll use sticks
to hold it up; American ingenuity at work;
I'm an excellent judge of character... that's why I hate most
people.
i used to play a mute but now i can scream;
"I'm what?!" said the outraged man to his former employer.
"You're fired."
He stood there for several seconds quivering with rage.
"Ha!" he finally blurted out. "This place won't run a single day
without me!" -- and he was right.
The next day the police said they suspected arson.
walking an ugly mutt with a missing leg; sad faced bitch; jack and jill
climbed capitol hill to get corrupted by liberty; jack fell down; he
sued jill; she tripped him;
Truth? There is no truth in the traditional way of defining it.
And, if this is to be believed, than this itself is untrue.
an old bum with a broken crackpipe and a lost dog; ain't lost
no more; the old sentinel fell asleep at the wheel; hit a tree; or maybe
it was the tree who feel asleep; dreamt it was a car; a classic story
we've never seen but have heard before; forever; no more; free fall to
white walls and bad food; delayed reaction; click bang
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #444, WRITTEN BY MUTTER - 1/18/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #445 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Legalize Suicide or Change!" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> AltRocks !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I think our country is very burried in contradictions. In this
one I'll focus on one specific contradiction. The Constitution and Bill
of Rights prevent anyone from having cruel or unusual treatment imposed
on them by the government. They also allow the death penalty, thus
saying saying that death is not cruel or unusual. Yet, for some odd
reason, they outlaw suicide. This seems to be in conflict to me.
Seriously... think about it. I can think of many people who's lives are
cruel and unusual, not even considering those in 3rd world countries, the
homeless, or the severly ill. I think if genetics, social structure, or
even god, if you believe in one, has deemed that almost the entire
population of adolescent America be suicidal, who are we to argue?
We've seen this many times in history. Antigone, the ancient
greek tradgedy deals with the subject of Man's Law Vs. Gods' Law (The
Greeks' Gods), or fate if you will. It never ends well for the human
population. At least not those affected by the laws in question. I
pose this question to you: On a planet with over 6 billion people,
that's 6,000,000,000, and a country where supposed free will, democracy,
and personal rights prevail, do they outlaw such a humanitarian action?
Anyone that went through public school in the past few years knows what
it's like in there. That's bad enough. But if you actually show a
glimmer of talent, natural ability, or real intelligence and find the
work they give you menial, demoralizing, and aboce all spiteful to you
in general, and hence refuse to do it, they deem you a slacker and a
waste of space. Now hold up. This is a peaceful means to and end. If
one such as myself or anyone else that notices this would ever get fed
up with it, and an actual revolt took place, you'd have some of the
brightest, most intuitive teenagers, in their prime, against the rest
of America's school system.
I'm sure anyone of prominance that suffered the same thing and
is now a grown adult would stand with us on that one. It would be the
dumb people Vs. the 'gifted' people. And I'm sorry if I sound a little
egotistical, but with no class lines, government lines, or rules, you
will lose. Period. But I stray from my topic. If you can get some
sense of what I'm talking about, and realize that that's not what I
want, then you have two choices.
1: Legalize suicide. Sure many people consider it immoral, but
obviously not the people that would use this law. Otherwise
they wouldn't use it. Plus it would be a grand release for
thsoe of us forced to go through such systems as the one
above, belittled, held back, and even disciplined for their
talents. It's much more humanitarian. To quote Kurt Vonnegut,
"None of us ever asked to be born anyway."
2: Change the school system/social structure around. Yeah, it's
a bit harder, but if the welfare of the general public is at
stake, I think we can all do a little adjusting, and maybe
even in the process, start turning out some highly intelligent
people, like we used to.
If you don't like what I have to say, then you just don't get it.
If you sympathize with what I'm saying, or just want to comment either
way, e-mail me at altrocks@op.net. I'm not writing this out fo spite,
or hate, or anythign else. I just think it's about time someone said
what needs to be said, and maybe even get some attention drawn to the
subject.
And whether you agree with me or not, please, pass this along to
as many people as you can. Thank you.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #445, WRITTEN BY ALTROCKS - 1/18/99 !!

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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #446 !!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: "My Fucking Ex-Roommate" !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: *or* !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: "Part Two of I Need a New Roommate: !!
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: I'm Getting a New Roommate" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: by -> Cyn 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
So, I get a call today from someone who's considering moving
into my room. And I'm like, "Uh, I already have a roommate." And
they're like "Really? Because Res Life gave me your number." So I say
"Oh? Could you call me back when you talk to Res Life and tell me
what's going on?" So about five minutes later, I get a call from Res
Life. Turns out my now ex roommate is moving into South after she gets
back from Winter Break. Of course, she didn't feel obligated to tell me
this. I had no fucking clue. It's not as though her moving out is
going to fucking affect my life at all.
It's ironic, because the one thing Liz had going for was that she
was at least polite. I mean, sure, she smoked out in here constantly,
her deadhead friends were in here all hours of the day and night, she
liked shitty music, but at least she had common curtesy going for her.
But no, apparently she's not even polite enough to mention the fact that
she's moving out. It would be far too much trouble to be like, "Hey,
Cyn, I'm moving me and all my hippy shit out of your room so you can be
happy now."
The fact that she's moving out is actually a blessing, and should
make me ecstatically happy, but at this point I'm too fucking angry at
her to even be able to access those feelings. If it was possible for me
to trek to New Hampshire or where ever the fuck she's busy studying
"herbal medicine" and beat the shit out of her, I would. Unfortunately,
that would just result in one very angry, lost girl wandering around New
Hampshire or possibly Massachusetts, since I have no fucking idea where
she is.
!!========================================================================!!
Okay, it's two days later, I no longer care, I just want this
hippy shit the fuck out of my room.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #446, WRITTEN BY CYN - 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "A Log of Boredom" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Avenger !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
you are sitting in a room. there is a desk in the room, and a
door to the left. The paint is chipping, from where you nibbled it.
to the south is a door. you remember how pathetic your life is.
> south
you walk to the door. my. a door.
> sigh
you sigh. no one cares.
> look
you see a door. the door is a strange beige color.
> open door
you open the door. you see a hall to the south, a stairwell to
the west.
> west
you are in a stairwell. the stairwell smells of human waste and
new cars. human waste and new cars block the stairs up. the stairs
down lead, well, down.
> down
you trip down the stairs, eventually falling near the corpse of a
businessman. his cold hand still clutches a briefcase, and a picture of
his family is sitting there. A wife, 3 kids. You cry for his pathetic
ass.
> get briefcase
you grab the briefcase. curious as you are, you open it. inside
you find some technical papers, a remote control for something, and a
laptop.
> use laptop
The laptop bootts up, and you decide to play StarCraft. oh boy.
> zerg
you go zerg. dragoons flood into your peon line. you lose.
> smash laptop
you smash the laptop, sending silicon flying in all directions.
> look
you see a corpse, rotting; shards of silicon; a picture of some
lame people; and a door to the east.
> get shards of silicon
you pick up the shards of silicon.
> inventory
shards of silicon
technical papers
remote control
> east
you amble outside. people walk the street. it is snowing
outside, and your bare feet are cold. to the west, a door. to the east,
a street. to the south, a strange political convention. to the north,
a group of hippies.
> piss
you piss onto the snow, attempting to write your name. you fail.
> north
the hippies mutter something about TV. you ignore them.
> read technical papers
you read the technical papers out loud. one hippie says "down
with the system! yeah!" you ignore him.
> south;south
you are at a political convention. a man begs for your vote.
> piss
you piss onto the man. he is unhappy.
> piss
you cannot piss.
> help
you have no piss left.
> look
you are at a political convention. politicians mill around. one
smells of piss. to the south, a busy street. to the north, a section
of sidewalk. to the east, a wall. to the west, another wall.
> south
you amble into the street. an oldsmobile flattens you. you die
in the street. game over.
play again?
> nope
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #447, WRITTEN BY AVENGER - 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "What I Did During My Winter Break" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Girl From Mars !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Winter break is generally a much-anticipated time in the life of
a college student. Finals are over, and it's time to vegetate! Winter
break is a time to see all your old friends from high school as well,
and talk about old times. It's a time to do all the stuff you couldn't
get done during school, and maybe even get a job to make some money for
when you go back. Well, my winter break was like nothing i've ever
experienced. Of course, I did my share of vegetation (rarely) and
catching up with old friends (before they went on lovely trips to warm
places without me,) but I did one thing for the majority of my winter
break. You want to know what I did? Huh? You wanna know? All right,
here's what I did... FUCKIN' DISHES!!!
In my temporary home (long story,) there is a dishwasher, but we
use it to STORE our dishes, not wash them. Every morning, I awoke to
a sinkful of dishes, used for that morning's breakfast and thoughtfully
left for my washing pleasure. Most of the time, my parents and brother
had inexplicably gotten who-knows-what stuck to the dishes and of COURSE
they don't believe in soaking. How in the hell do you get whatever
you're making on the outside of the pot? I spent 20 minutes today
scraping hot cereal off the outside of a pot, and it motivated me to
write this. As I scraped and scraped, I started to have flashbacks to
a past life, past life as a serving wench in a medieval English
ale-house. I know my past life as a skivvy has supplied me with mad
diswashin' skillz, but why do I have to do it all the time? I know I'm
just being a whiny bitch, but it's ridiculous!
Do you know what washing dishes all day does to your hands? I
was a little disgruntled when one of my fingers got so dry it fell off,
but I kept on truckin' because I knew if I stopped the dishes would
just pile up like mad and I'd get in trouble. When the second finger
fell off, I complained, but my parents told me that losing fingers
doing dishes builds character. Always searching to build character, I
spent some more days a-washing.
After a while, I realized that there was a simple solution to my
digit-loss problem. I set to washing my dishes that day, and I got
really into it, pulling my sleeves up all the way and getting soaked up
to my shoulders. My arms got so dry from the soap and hot water that
they suffered the same fate as my fingers. Armless, I awaited the
evening. When night came, I popped my microwaveable pillow in the
microwave for longer than the recommended time. As I slept that night,
my microwaveable pillow resting on my chest, all its stored radiation
worked its magic. The next morning, when I woke up, I had two arms
again! Fuckin' brilliant!
Well, that's what I did on my winter break. Jealous?
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #448, WRITTEN BY GIRL FROM MARS, 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "My Brother's Friends" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> AnonGirl !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Having a twin brother can sometimes mean sharing friends in the
same age group. It's happened a lot in my case, which isn't so bad
because they just see me as Audrey, and not as my brother's lame
older/younger sister. However, in the past two years, my brother has
brought home a very interesting array of people he calls his friends.
I felt the need to write about them, so shut up and read.
The names in this article have been changed to cover my ass.
First, there's Martin. He started hanging around my house over
two years now and has basically become another member of my family
since he's here more than he is home. In fact, I think he lives here.
He hasn't left my house in a good month or two, and was even here on
Christmas. My mom and grandmother bought him gifts, and he got us some
gifts. Although I don't know where he got the money considering he's
been here, unemployed, this whole time. He's a pretty cool guy. He
brought his computer here so now I have a kick-ass computer and a
decent 15" monitor instead of my piece of shit 486/33. So he's a good
guy. However, he's asked me out five times in the past two years and
it's getting REALLY GOD DAMN ANNOYING. I really hope he doesn't read
this.
Then there's Shane. Shane is a good-looking mack-daddy who also
started hanging with my bro two years ago. He has a girlfriend, but that
doesn't stop him from messing around with other girls behind her back,
including his friends' sisters. Hrm. He's a smooth-talkin',
jive-walkin' mack-daddy. He smokes me for free something, so it's cool.
Not that you can buy my love with drugs.
Booze, maybe.
Harry is the poor kid of the group. My mom takes sympathy on him
and buys food that he likes. I think I'd be embarassed if someone's
mother did that with me. I wouldn't want to be pointed out from my
friends as the pity case who has a terrible life. I dunno, that's just
me.
Paul is stranger than the others. He's younger than everyone,
doesn't go to school but manages to score weed by the pound. Whenever
he's here and walking by me or something where I'm in the vicinity, he
stares at me. I don't know why, and he doesn't stare for long. Little
meaningful glances here and there. I don't know why he stares, maybe
it's because he doesn't know me as well. Maybe he can hear me wonder
about how he gets $9600 for pot and isn't even in school. He doesn't
work, or deal anything, I know that much. I know it's none of my
business, but if someone who is more of a bum than ME scores pounds of
weed... I'd like to know the secret, too!
Sam is the destined criminal of the group. Already being fined
with grand theft auto, though dismissed, his fate definetely holds some
jailtime for him. Sam once tried to prove his alcoholic testosterone to
me by chugging a mickey of Jack Daniels, but it didn't work and he spat
up all over my basement instead.
I first met Keith in my driveway at 3am one Saturday night in
the summer. I was stumbling out of a cab, drunk, and he was smoking a
joint with my brother. He's got really nice hair and eyelashes (it
really REALLY pisses me off when a guy has nice hair and/or eyelashes.
Why the FUCK should they get that without styling it or V05ing it or
wearing mascara?!) I've only met Keith twice, so I can't really say
much about how he is just yet.
Last but not least, there's Richard. Richard is the freak
12-year-old mentality guy who gets kicks out of farting directly on
someone's nose and jacking off at any given moment, in public or
private. Luckily I've never been around for one of his episodes, I
don't think I could deal with that. Fortunately my brother and his
other friends think he's rather strange, so he's not around that much
anymore.
I don't know how some guys live with themselves.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #449, WRITTEN BY ANONGIRL - 1/18/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Obituary for IM2K" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> AIDS !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/18/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
"i ache. ultimately, in the end you realize that all this going
to happen anyway, so you just lose hope. the internet hype will
explode a jillion times more than it is today, even more people
will hop on "the net." we'll see a whole slew of of
commercialisation, legal battles, and media stores. we can only
pray that ultimatly (sic), after all this change has taken place
that will happen over the next ten years and onward, that the
internet will still be relatively "free." i imagine that i'll
still be along for the ride, as depressing as it is."
- IM2K, dto #002
Ah, long may you live to regret that last statement, IM2K,
because we can all picture you gunned down in the hot San Diego night, or
stabbed into bloody ruins in some abandoned Tijuana alleyway. The method
is, as all specifics, an unimportant thing. To me at least. All that
matters is that you're dead. You never lived on to see everything you
predicted in that piece of prophecy come true. You knew the truth,
though, and your survivors have to live with Prodigy and AOL having full
internet access, and the blight of an ever inflating USENET, where the
static to noise ratio is out of control.
Ah yes, IM2K, though I didn't know you, I mourn you, because from
reading your excellent old school HOE FILE about chat boards, (#74 for
your archivists out there) I understand you. When you write, "I think
it's slowly dawning on me that I'm actually NOT funny and I only amuse
myself," you write for me, and you write for all the other pathetic
gimps out there who spend pointless amounts of time saying stupid
non-sequitors and random strings of nonsense. We get the joke, even if
no one else does.
Other people in HOE have died, Ashtray Heart, for example, but
their losses aren't felt like yours. They weren't there during the
Golden Age of HOE, #51-90, and they weren't part of the genuine magic.
I hear something outside right now, so I'll have to go
investigate it, but when I come back, I'll continue writing this
obituary and memorial to you, IM2K.
[Enter Ghost]
Hor. Look, My Lord, it comes!
AIDS. Oh priets and nuns who enjoy the charity of Heaven, defend us!
Are you carrying good stuff from God or evil stuff from Hell?
Be thy intents good or charitable?
Your shape is mighty strange.
I'll talk to you, man, and I'll call you IM2K
King, HOE writer, American legend. O, answer me!
Don't let me bust a nut in this ignornance, but tell
why your interred bones, hearsed in death
Came out of the grave like zombies in Micahel Jakson's "THriller"
Why the sepulchre has let you free without any narration from
Vince Price. Whay may this mean, that you, nebulous HOE jackass
again in cum stained tshirts and filthy jeans
Returns the moon's shine, making the night real ugly like,
and us mortal folk, Shake in our britches,
With thoughts that normal people shouldn't be having?
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
[Ghost beckons AIDS]
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it some impartment did desire
to you alone.
Mar. Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground
But do not go with it!
Hor. No, by no means!
AIDS. He's gotta talk. Then'll I go with him.
Hor. Do not, my lord!
AIDS. Why should I be scared?
My life isn't worth jack,
and for my soul, it ain't go power over that,
since it's just as immortal as it itself?
It waves me forth again. I'll follow it.
Hor. Don't go! Please! We need you here in HOE!
AIDS. It waves me still.
Go on. I'll follow you.
Mar. You shall not god, my lord.
AIDS. Get your god damned dirty paws off me, ape.
Hor. Be Rul'd. You shall not go.
AIDS. I've got to do it. It is not coincidence that on this
night that I was writing IM2K's obit. his vizage
should appeare to me in such ghastly forms.
Unhand me, gentlemen.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
I say away! -- Go on. I'll follow thee.
[Exeunt Ghost and AIDS]
Hor. He waxes desperate with imagintion.
Mar. LEt's follow. 'Tis not fir thus to obey him.
Hor. Have after. To what issue will this come?
Mar. Something is rotten in the scene.
Hor. Heaven will direct it.
Mar. Nay, let's follow him. [EXEUNT]
[Scene V. Warwick. AIDS's back yard. Another part of it.]
[Enter Ghost and AIDS]
AIDS. Where the hell are you taking me? This is only a suburban lot,
you dig? Speak! I'm not going anywhere else!
Ghost. Mark me.
AIDS. I will.
Ghost. My hour is almost come.
When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames
must render myself up.
AIDS. Shit! Your poor fucking guy!
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
to what I shall unfold.
AIDS. I'm gonna listen no matter waht you say, chief.
Ghost. So art thou to astonishment, when thou shalt hear.
AIDS. What?
Ghost. I am IM2K's spirt.
AIDS. I was just writing a HOE file about you...
Ghost. I know. I am doom'd for a certain term to walk the night until
you wrote such a file. By writing it, you have released me,
and I must tell you the truth.
AIDS. Could anyone have written the file or just me?
Ghost. Ah, you wisely introspect. You suspect it now, don't you?
AIDS. I suspect nothing.
Ghost. BUt you just saw ANGELHEART, starring one-time Cosby Kid Lisa
Bonet and Robert DeNiro and Mickey Rourke. Surely the plot was
not wasted on you?
AIDS. I thought it was a trifle underdone. The end came upon me too fast
for a real enjoyment.
Ghost. I AM IM2K! WHEN I SUGGEST YOU EXAMINE SOEMTHING YOU SHALL DO IT!
AIDS. I don't get it.
Ghost. While you have been spending all your time trying to get soybean
to drop her drawers so that you may plunge your invading fingers
into her sticky cunt, I have been rotting in eternal damnation
waiting for you to write this file!
AIDS. Uh... sorry
Ghost. I am here to tell you, before I go into the ether for good, that
you, AIDS, are my reincarnation. The reason you feel such a deep
resonance with HOE #74 is because you wrote it, before you
embraced the painful, bright lights. The Thodol Bardo taught you
well when you were me, and you became you.
AIDS. Why must I know this now?
Ghost. Because it is all preordained! We are like pieces of the
chessboard. Not even good ones, like the queen or the rooks, but
rather bishops or knights, whose movement is encumbered and
limited.
AIDS. You still haven't answered my question. You know, for a dead guy,
you're awful prolix.
Ghost. I can't answered your question. You just need to know. Soon it
be discovered.
AIDS. OK. Cool, can I go back to writing our obituary now?
Ghost. Aye.
AIDS. There's the rub!
!!========================================================================!!
Well, I'm back. Let me say, I was a good guy back then, I was a
funny guy back then. My files were tight and smart and oh so disparaging
towards teh idiots who were invading my precious homeland, once known as
Elsinore, but now called the Internet.
We were all lucky to know me.
THE END.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #450, WRITTEN BY AIDS - 1/18/99 !!

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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Karaoke" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Phairgirl !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/21/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
Q: What has the potential to make a drunk look even stupider
than the time they did cartwheels naked in the bar parking
lot for $20?
A: Karaoke.
It was the night of the Dubuque Wendy's employee Christmas party.
We were all a little skeptical, considering our manager Kim had chosen a
karaoke party this year, as opposed to our ritual bowling parties that
had grown boring yet familiar. Still, after hearing that there was a bar
in the Knights of Columbus hall we had rented for the occasion, spirits
seemed to brighten just a little. If nothing else, the kids could goof
off and the adults could get a decent buzz going and enjoy themselves.
Someone was bringing Trivial Pursuit in case the management (and anyone
else) got bored.
I, on the other hand, was becoming oddly excited, anticipating
the occasion. Upon hearing of the liquor availability, I made it my
personal mission to make sure every last one of my co-workers could
attend and watch me make a complete ass out of myself. Hell, I told
them, if nothing else, come to watch me be stupid. That'll be
entertaining enough to make up for the fact that you're underage and
can't get plowed off your ass as surely as I would be. And for some,
this was enough to do the trick.
I decided to drag my brother along, as he was most likely going to
be a future co-worker of mine, since the pay was good and the work was
simple. We loaded up in a tiny LeBaron, driven by my manager Nancy's
husband, who was to get us all home safely in our drunken states. Six of
us, all crammed in as uncomfortable as could be, to hang out with the
same irritating faces from work to listen to them sing karaoke. I
promised Trudy, the slow girl who just turned 21, that I would buy her
her very first alcoholic drink: a wine cooler. She was scared. And in
some social circles, I could be considered scared, too.
Upon our first arrival, a few people were there, milling around
the food table. I avoided my ex. I chatted up with some ex-co-workers
of mine who were long since working at our newest franchise store that
opened almost two years ago. I casually deduced from conversation that
the bar was dirt-ass cheap. And so, after a little food and speak, I
worked my way over to the bartender. The rest of the night could only be
classified in how many beers I had consumed.
Beer #1:
I was mildly hyperactive to begin with that night, and Jenny, a
friend and co-worker, shared my anticipation. We had talked a few days
earlier at work about singing some songs together, and so she came over
to me with a songbook from the karaoke people. Some people from the
other store had already taken over the machine; sounds of white-boy _Baby
Got Back_ and off-key _Bohemian Rhapsody_ rung throughout the hall. My
beer was almost finished when we decided on _The Right Stuff_ by New Kids
On The Block. It was a too-perfect way to begin the night.
We were the fourth people to step up to the mics. With not even a
light buzz yet, I could feel my stage fright creeping up. However, I
remembered that I worked with these people on a daily basis; I couldn't
possibly make a bigger ass out of myself in front of them than I did
every other day of the week. The music started and laughs and groans
came from the crowd. Jenny and I semi-quietly jammed our way through,
dancing a little and genuinely looking like we were having fun, as
opposed to the extreme fright I was feeling. But we did it. And on the
way back to the bar, I got a few compliments. I knew then that I had to
start chugging.
Beer #2:
We got ahold of the book again, and my brother and I tried to
find something funkadelic. They didn't have "Brickhouse". Nothing from
Parliament. We flirted with the idea of doing "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm", but I
decided I would sound utterly retarded. Travis wanted to do Cameo's
"Word Up", but nobody would've had a clue but us. In the meantime,
another friend and co-worker, Matt, proposed I do a rap with him. We
picked a good one, alright, and he took the little piece of paper up to
the karaoke people. Jenny stopped over to say she wanted to sing a song
for Patti, another co-worker, and I filled out a slip of paper for that
one, also. Travis and I continued looking, and I finished my beer.
Beer #3:
Kim ran into me in the bathroom. She already had a really, really
good buzz going and was very distraught over turning 30 later this
month. I felt really bad for her. Hell, I don't ever want to turn 30.
I could never get away with the shit I was doing tonight when I turn 30.
I told her it would be alright, and made the rounds, talking to a few
other people.
After a few minutes, Kim pulled me over and said, "Are you gonna
come up and sing with us?" All the managers (except our general
managers) were heading up to the podium, and I inquired as to what was
the occasion. "We're singing 'Take This Job And Shove It' to Jim and
Steve," she replied. Oh, I was game. I quick bought myself a wine
cooler and crowded around, singing that timeless anthem to our bosses.
That wine cooler went really fast after that. I gave Trudy a
taste to see if she thought she could handle it. She was so embarassed.
I was amused.
Beer #5 (Counting that wine cooler):
Trudy and my friend Sarah sang "Wing Beneath My Wings," and
everyone slow danced. The other store had pretty much been karaoke hogs
up to this point, and Travis and I finally picked a song and decided to
get it in before they completely took over. I promised Trudy that wine
cooler after she got done singing; however, Matt and I got called up for
our little rap right after their song.
I really, really should've thought about some of the songs I was
singing before I chose them. But by now, I had a really nice buzz going
on so it didn't matter. Matt and I had chosen Tone Loc's ever-so-tasteful
"Wild Thing," and I was having a little too much fun rapping about girls
on my jock and having to adjust my fly. Jenny and Nikki put on a pseudo
strip-show for us. Matt seemed to be enjoying myself. At that point,
the alcohol was carrying me anyway. It was a blast.
Beer #6:
I got Trudy that wine cooler after all. She was freaking; she
carried it around with her for hours, not drinking much more than a
little sip.
Waiting for Jenny's and my song to come up, another co-worker of
ours, Tom, told me I should sing Alannah Myles' "Black Velvet". I had
lost my voice just days before and the entire night I was only working
on half my throat, and I said there was no way I could reach the high
notes. But he badgered me, reminding me there weren't any high notes in
that song, and that my voice was husky enough that it would sound killer.
I was also told that by the end of the day on drive-thru, I sounded like
a chick on a phone sex line. I got the number for Black Velvet and stuck
it in my pocket, doubtful I would have that much courage anyway.
I nursed that beer for a while; I got the sudden and obscure urge
to dance. I don't dance. Ever. But, some wonderful, magical disco tune
came on and I just had to move my ass. That right there was a sure
testament to the fact that I had been drinking pretty decently.
Beer #7:
I was still dancing every so often. Jenny and I got up to sing
our song to Patti, "Down On The Corner" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
I didn't know a single word to that song before we sang it, only the
melody. Hell, can ANYONE understand CCR? It was quite a revelation, I
must say. We eventually got Patti up to jam with us, which was
originally considered an impossibility. We had the whole place going; I
think Jenny and I were pretty much the only people in the whole place
who could actually carry a tune. By this time, however, I was getting
really rowdy, and when were were done, I was screaming "WHOOOOO!!" and
jumping up and down. To put it mildly, I was enjoying myself.
Someone sang "I Think I Love You". Someone else sang "Dancing
Queen". Yet another person did "Mickey". It didn't matter how horrible
people were at that point; it was all so much fun and so hilarious. I
was dancing like a complete moron. Matt, my brother and I put in another
song request, this one for all of us including Jenny, Nikki, and Sarah.
I was heading to the bathroom more and more often. I was becoming
downright silly drunk. It was more fun than I needed to have, really.
Travis and my song finally came up, and the crowd just wasn't as
hyper as it had once been. The familiar music of "Don't Worry, Be Happy"
began to blare behind us; there wasn't enough crowd reaction for us to
be fully satisfied. I picked up the mic and yelled, "ARE YOU READY TO BE
HAPPY!?!" A few laughs echoed from the people. I yelled again, "I DON'T
THINK YOU'RE HAPPY ENOUGH!!" Someone called, "I'M HAPPY!!!" My brother
topped it all of, booming into the mic with the voice of a large scary
german man, "_HAPPY!!!!_" We finally had their attention, and we rambled
off the song to happy faces.
Beer #8 (although I admit at this point I was losing count):
I finally decided I was drunk enough to put in that request for
Black Velvet; however, there was only an hour or so left of karaoke fun
and they had tons of requests before they would get to mine. That didn't
bother me; I didn't want to do it anyway.
Elaine's husband got up and sang "Lady" to her. It was positively
charming; we were all really impressed. Some other girl got up and sang
on her own, too, although she was too quiet and nobody had any clue what
the hell she was singing. I was kind of wishing at that point that I
could've done my own song before them. I wanted to be the center of
attention. Of course, I was pretty much drunk enough at that point that
I didn't care how retarded I would've sounded.
Some of the under-21 employees had me buying them beer. Hell, I
didn't care. Some of the other employees, who had swore they would never,
ever get up and sing, were putting in requests, although it was too late.
I would've lived and died to see Chad, Tom, and Dave sing "Welcome To
The Jungle" like they said they were going to. Alas, it was not to be.
Our names were called to get up and do our big group song, and so
the six of us clamored up to the microphones, gathering around the
screen, ready to jam. One guy and two girls to each mic, the sudden
jolt of "Love Shack" thundered into my ears. And amazingly enough,
everyone in the place was really excited about the song we chose.
Travis and Matt executed near-perfect Fred Schneiderness, and between
the four of us girls who could actually sing, we had at least half of
the entire hall on the dance floor.
"Your WHAT?" "TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN ROOF! RUSTED!!!"
I almost completely lost my voice screaming that line. But
everyone looked like they were having so much fun, and I was having so
much fun, and I knew right then and there that the six of us had
carried off the best performance of the night. I wanted to cartwheel
everywhere.
Beer #9:
Karaoke winded down shortly after that; we had run out of time for
my song, my brother didn't get to sing "Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)"
with Sarah, and many more performances were missed. Trudy had drank
approximately 1/5 of that wine cooler I had bought her hours before. I
got some glasses of ice from the bar and carried around a good two-thirds
of her wine cooler in one hand, my final beer in the other. I couldn't
speak right anymore. I was downright silly drunk. Jenny was inviting
people over to her apartment after everyone left, and Nancy and I took
her up on it. I stumbled around, hugging too many people and being way
too loud. And still, most of the people there didn't realize I was even
buzzing. This was all normal to them.
I declared to Kim before we left that karaoke was now mandatory at
every crew party henceforth, as was a bar. I chased my beer down with
the wine cooler and got ready to leave. I gazed longingly at the karaoke
machine, so alone at the front of the hall. For one night, I finally had
sang in front of people, I danced with them, I had a genuinely good time,
and nobody thought I looked like a complete ass. I don't think I
could've asked for more than that.
The six of us smashed back into the little LeBaron, headed to our
next destination, somehow a little less uncomfortable this time.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #451, WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 1/21/99 !!

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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #452 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "I Am Trying to be Clever" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Neko !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/21/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I don't need devushki anyhow.
No sir, not me.
But still as I kurit a bit more, I think about that devushka.
She was the one, I thought for such a long time. She got me
started on the kuriting. As I smoke my pack a day-or-so habit, every
time I light up, how can I help but think of her.
Maybe I kurit as an analogy. Every time I kurit it burns a
little bit more of that devushka out of golova. One day I'll be able to
quit and the devushka will have ushla ot my golova.
Or not.
I remember all the times we were vmeste and how they were very
horosho. Very very horosho.
But I also remember all the times when things were ploho. Very
very ploho.
But I don't need devushki. MNE NE NUZHNI DEVUSHKI!
But I do.
I hochu this devushku. I hochu that devushku. I hochu every
devushku.
Almost.
There are so many krasivyi devushki. But most of them are glupi.
But I find some that are not. They're smishni, they make me laugh. The
sound from my golos: "HA-HA-HA!"
But they don't want me. They don't hochet Neko.
Byednyi me.
I'm trying too hard to be clever, prostite mne!
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #452, WRITTEN BY: NEKO - 1/21/99 !!

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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #453 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "I'll Flip You For It" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Z !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/21/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
One thing about the human condition that I have always been
particularly struck by, is its enormous potential for being much like a
coin -- easily reconginizable by each side for what they are worth, but
two-sided none-the-less.
Salesmen. (also known as sales people for those of us in
Generation X, the haven of political correctness... doesn't this second
name just make salesmen even more like a coin then the rest of us?)
Anyway, salesmen.
Ever work with any? I work with computer salesmen.
Salesmen are the epotiomy of the human condition. In their real,
everyday, personal lives, most salesmen are extraordinarily giving of
themselves and of their earnings. They are there for their loved ones
in all possible ways -- to give a hug, or to pay the rent. But then,
come 9 am, they transform into something different. A vicious animal
which stalks "customers", examining their every move; gobbling their
every word; scrutinizing their every gesture in order to determine how
to play on mankind's desire to trust; how to walk hand in hand with the
"customers" ego -- making them feel knowledgable about keyboards, and in
need of a Intel Pentium II 450 XEON, a purchase which would allow them
to take their already existing knowledge, and AMAZING ability to learn,
and become a GENIUS.
Despite these two separate identities housed in one carnal body,
each personality reveals the same thing about the "person" they comprise.
What does it mean to give of oneself to another? If you "get what
you give", according the the golden rule we all have had drilled into our
fragile heads, doesn't it mean that a "selfless" giving of oneself is
accompanied by a subconscious desire to receive the same in return? In
essence, we do things for other's, and secretly put a check next to that
person's name in the little scorebook in our heads while whispering to
ourself "(insert name of victim here) Owes me now :)"
As for the identity that exposes itself between the hours of 9 am
to 5 pm, with its deep comprehension of a person's weak points -- this
personality cares not for the individual on which they focus their
attention. No, this identity cares only of the money to be made by
another's ignorance (which, essentially, is what all jobs, including
specialized labor, rely on). Money which can be spent on another, and
returned in a form of a favor that "money can't buy".
One thing about the human condition that I am particularly struck
by, is its enormous potential for being much like a coin -- easily
recognizable by each of its sides for being worth JACK SHIT.
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #453, WRITTEN BY: Z - 1/21/99 !!

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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Computers 'n Stuff" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> M4D 3LF !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/21/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
I like antique crap... but updated antique crap. I once saw a
193X Ford coupe. It was all decked out with electronic dash, tons of
power goodies. I'd take it, put a killer stereo in it, and drive that
fucker every day. I had plans for that console stereo I had, too. I
wanted to seal the speakers, add a cd player and dual cassette wells.
I like the way console stereos look. So that brings me my computers.
I got my first computer as a hand-me-down from my dad in the fall
of '96. It's a 1987 Macintosh Classic II with 4 megs of ram, monochrome
CRT, and a 40 meg hard drive that my sister bought new for over $2000.
I used this computer as my main computer until I bought my lap top this
fall. I even used it online with a 2400 baud modem that I got last
spring. It's powered by Motorola's 68040 chip which is not too bad
considering it's the last SISC (non-PowerMac) chip put in Macs or their
clones. I even had an ImageWriter II printer for it that I found at
Goodwill for $2.50!! Up until the RISC native programs became the Mac
standard, the only software limitation I had was the lack of color
options...two color mode was all I had when 16 color greyscale would have
ran most anything I wanted.
Goodwill is a great store for me. Not only did I find my console
stereo and my printer for $2.50, but lots of other useless crap. Another
favorite of mine is St. Vincent DePaul, aka Vinnie's. Vinnie's has two
Dubuqueland locations, downtown on Main Street and, what I call "Vinnie's
West", near our "suburb" Asbury. It was this second location that I
found my Apple //e. It came with Apple DOS floppies, a whole meg of ram,
and the infamous Apple SuperSerial card. For an extra $5 I even got a
color monitor! I'm unable to find any software to get my Apple online,
so I looked around for Apple //gs, but they're still popular, thus
overly-expensive.
My newest toy is a TRS-80 color. I need to find some other
hardware and software for it, otherwise it's little more than an
over-sized keyboard.
Well, I guess I've bored you all enough for one t-file, so I
guess I'll be going. But, remember kids, ya gotta catch 'em all!!
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #454, WRITTEN BY: M4D 3LF - 1/21/99 !!