diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0256.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0256.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e651f2f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0256.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Cyber Impulses + -------------- + +Downloading your history......... +Wasting time......................... +Finding it................................ +Looking for............................ +Graduate............................... +history stored....................... +Jobs waiting to be filled..... +Wasting time........................ +Do them................................ +Use it..................................... +Crack it man......................... +Global positioning.............. +Pulling rank.......................... + +Crack the code... what could be more simple.....? +I'll give you one answer you have the question for. +Not understanding is the begining. +So does it end before or after it starts? +Continue this transmission with the right answer. +Lock and load baby............ +Standing next to the pres. doesn't give you a green light.... +but it does leave a lot of doors open for you......................... +Crack the bank and ask away for one answer will del@y + +If you see the pattern then you can read the message. I believe you +will find this information revealing, but then again you already know +the location of it. + +But what is this thing? +BZZZZZ + + +Heather T Maple + +p.s. have a good day Mr. J I'll listen to you later ;P + +=-= + +[Received this in the mail the other day.. short, sweet, and damn + interesting. Anyway, neat mail on an otherwise dreary day :) ] + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0257.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0257.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6239dc63 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0257.txt @@ -0,0 +1,211 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Overman + ------- + +Many of you have read my previous works in F.U.C.K., particularly +F.U.C.K. #164, where I relate the mean tales of my youth. How then, you +may wonder, have I come up from whence I was born? How is it that my +situation in life has changed? Or has it changed? Am I now the same +mental, emotional and physical weakling that was me as a child? + +No. I am not. I have changed. I have changed considerably. I am now +a veritable mental giant, yet not without the ability to explore and +learn afresh. I am emotionally invulnerable, yet I easily become soft +and tender when the time arises. On a physical level, I am now the +hunter, no longer the hunted. I do not fear a mental challenge, nor an +emotional challenge, nor a physical challenge. + +What has caused these changes? How did I raise from the small inner +city child with no social skills, no friends, no future and no value to +become the god of myself and my environment that I am now? How did I +attain such mastery of man and machine as I now posess? + + Did I win the lottery? + + No. + + Did I inherit a million dollars? + + No. + + Did I find God? + + No. + + Did I find the answers in the writings of L. Ron Hubbard? + + No. + + Did I travel to the Far East and study Buddhism? + + No. + + Was I a six million dollar federal research program? + + No. + + Was I kidnapped by space aliens and sent back to conquer Earth? + + Not even close. + + +It was none of these. I was none other than a will to power. Yes, a +simple act of human will. + +Previously, in my weak and pitiful state, I looked to a divine being to +aid me through this world. I looked to the next world as a place of +rest, a place where I would be safe from the dangers of this life. + +This was nothing more than dangerous escapism. This divine being did +nothing but keep me from acting on my own. If god was here to take care +of me, what need did I have to take care of myself? If god was here to +set my ethical and moral standards, what need did I have to think for +myself? Until I escaped this self defeating philosophy, I was doomed to +a life of failure. + +Atheism brought me out of this. Athiesm forced me to think of this +world as the first and final battleground. No longer would I have an +afterlife to look forward to. This life would be the only one I would +get, and I had better make it count. No longer would I be able to +accept defeat here, knowing that I would be safe and protected in the +afterlife. If I was to rise victorious, it would be in the here and +now. + +Athiesm forced me to think for myself. No longer could I simply look at +an ancient tome to tell me what was right and what was wrong. Instead, +I was forced to examine every bit of life itself and determine for +myself the true nature of right and wrong. I was forced to become my +own god. + +No longer was a divine being responsible for my creation, my life, and +my destruction. I was now in charge of me. This engendered a strong +sense of personal responsibility in me. *I* was responsible for myself, +no one else. My actions would ultimately lead to my success or my +failure. And that success or failure would be final, no more would I be +granted a second chance in the afterlife. + +I stopped accepting defeat. No one would best me, no matter the cost. +This affected more than the combative side of my interpersonal +relationships. I saw through my previous failures and realized that +many of my previous violent confrontations were the result of the +failure of my own social skills. This must be cured, I realized. +Furthermore, I must cure it myself, as there was no longer a divine +being to assist me or comfort me if I failed. + +I fought, fought my way free of the social and socioeconomic state I was +in. I learned computer science as a tool to move myself up on the +economic scale. With only one formal class in computer science, I +aquired employment teaching computer science at a state college. How +did I do this? Hard work, led by force of will. Hard work, and the +mental agility built by the rigors of defining my own system of ethics +and morals. After you have created your own philosophical system, +computer science is childs play! + +I fought to meet people and to interact with them successfully. I +fought with myself, with my poorly developed skill set. Now that I was +free of the horrid judeao-christain concept that sex was evil, I fought +to learn how to interact on an emotionally intimate level with women. +Free of the sexism inherent in any religious system based upon judaism, +I was now able to interact with females on an equal intellectual level. + +All of these changes made me free of my previous environment. No longer +would I interact with the people I had interacted with before, nor would +I interact with people the same way as I had before. I met new people, +people who had not known me before. People who saw the new me and +judged me for what I was at that time, not what I had been before. + +It took two years from the time I started until any appreciable changes +were noticable by those around me. It took another two years before the +new me dominated the old me. I took another two years before I was able +to finish the process. Another 6 years has passed in my life, where I +continue to change and to grow with each passing year. + +I cannot compare my life now with my life growing up. If I had to do it +all over again, I might choose to take my own life instead. It was +hard. I would not wish my tribulations on the worst of my enemies. +However, the times and events of my early life have given me a tough +inner strength. Nothing I face now causes me fear, because I know I +have survived the worst that life has to offer. I am invulnerable. + +My life now is quiet and peaceful. At times, I have difficulties +dealing with the adjustment. I no longer constantly fear for my life, +and was the case for the majority of my youth. I no longer engage in +constant conflict with the people around me. I create conflict when I +wish to create conflict, and peace when I wish to create peace. I no +longer travel the world alone, just me and my imaginary god. I am able +to share my emotions with those few people whom I choose to become +intimate with. I do not fear their rejection, because I know the value +of myself. I have found hapiness, I created it for myself. + +You too can obtain the happiness that I now posess. Take control of +your own life. Stop blaming others for your life. Stop relying on god, +your parents, or the welfare state. Do not let any of these take care +of you, physically, mentally, or emotionally. + +If your parents take care of your physical needs, they will also create +a framework for your mental and emotional life. If the state takes care +of your physical needs, it will do the same. The state teaches people +that they are subservient to it. The check every month is a periodic +reminder of who is in control. If you give the state nothing, and the +state gives you money, you are a child of the state. How then can you +have a sense of your own self worth, if you have no value to the state? +How can you have a true sense of your own self worth if your life is +subsidized and managed by your parents? Only when we struggle and +succeed on our own can we know our true value. Only when we know and +appreciate our true value can we guarantee our own mental strength. +Only when these two are fortified can we ensure our emotional +well-being. + +Live your own life. Create your own path. Do not rely on other men for +anything. Not for your physical needs, not for your morals, not for +your ethics, not for your ideas of right and wrong, not for your mental +training and education, not for your sense of self worth, not for your +emotional health, not for anything. + +Rely only upon yourself, and you will grow until you are able to provide +for yourself. You will grow until you no longer need other men to +provide for you. Not for your physical needs, not for your mental +needs, not for your emotional needs. When this comes to pass, you will +have conquered yourself. Once you have conquered yourself, nothing else +will be able to arouse fear in your heart. You will never face a +tougher opponent, nor will you ever find a more sweet victory. + +- Voyager + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0258.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0258.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..465d111c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0258.txt @@ -0,0 +1,149 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Psychology of Presence + -------------------------- + +I finished college two years ago, and it was not a very pleasant experience. +It was bad enough that, to this day, while having the desire for a second +degree, I would never seriously consider returning to college. + +I am a knowledge junkie. The popularity of the Internet and World Wide Web +would have people define this as someone addicted to the Web. But, I am +different. I hate the Web. Biology. Chemistry. Mathematics. Philosophy. +Psychology. Sociology. These are the subjects which interest me, and college +prevented me from learning them. + +All colleges have a policy which stipulates that the grade one ultimately +receives must be based, in part, upon a certain pre-defined attendance +rate. In order to recieve a "C" in any class, you must attend at least +70% of the class sessions, regardless of all other factors. You may be +earning a perfect "A" in the class, but if you only attended 70% of the +lectures, you will be recieving a "C" instead. + +On the surface, this seems like a reasonable policy. The more lectures you +attend, the more you will learn. The less you attend, the less you will +learn. But, this policy is seriously flawed, and it is destroying the +academic records of many students. + +I do not restrict my learning solely to the classroom. While others can be +found in the local bookstore perusing the best-seller of the week, I can +be found in the science section debating whether I should buy a book on +chaos theory, or a book on human anatomy. If I am able, I purchase them +both, and eagerly run home to begin learning something new. + +A student often registers for his next-semester class schedule several +months in advance. Being excited about learning a new subject, I would +often return to the bookstore to buy something along the lines of my +future class subjects. By the time I appeared for the first day of class, +I usually had a solid background on what was to come. + +Instructors spend way too much time beating the same basic principles to +death. The class moves slowly as a result, and those who understood the +concept earlier are quickly bored. Those who understood it months earlier +become extremely bored. When a sharp student asks a thoughtful and +intelligent question on the topic at hand, and the rest of the class may +not understand it yet, the anger of others becomes readily apparant. +Some think you are just trying to show off. You lose faith in your ability +to learn what you need from the class. You start missing classes. Eventually, +you only do the homework and show for the tests. + +I failed many classes in college. I failed the same philosophy class twice. I +failed because I never attended class. I completed all of the assignments on +time. I took every quiz and test. I read the entire textbook...twice. I often +called the instructor on weekends to debate very esoteric topics of +philosophy, ethics and society. She said she had learned a couple of things +from our debates. She said I knew my subject cold. At the end of the +semester, I had 997 out of 1000 possible points. I received an "F" in the +class based on my 28% attendance rate. She was upset that she was forced to +give me this grade. + +This scenario played out in every class, every semester. Then I took +Psychology. On the first day of class, we filled out the basic questionaire +as to who we were, what we wanted to do with our lives, and what our +interests were. We turned them in, and after glancing through them, she +called a few students outside for a few minutes each. I was one of them. + +"You don't belong here," she said. "Get out of here. See me during office +hours later this week." + +Wondering what was going on, I went to her office a few days later. Why would +an instructor throw me out of her class without cause? + +"You're too smart to be wasting away in this class. You stated your interest +was in medicine on your questionaire. I want you to read the textbook and +show up for all of the quizzes and tests. Other than that, I don't want to +see you in class. But, since the law requires a certain amount of hours in +the classroom to receive a grade, this is what we are going to do. You will +spend one hour for each hour of class you miss researching any topic you want +tying psychology with medicine. Then write me a report. Keep a log of your +hours. Agree?" + +I could not believe what I was hearing. This was too good to be true! "Yes." +I said to her, and went home. + +I did what was asked of me. I missed 51 hours of class, yet spent 132 hours +researching and writing a report on "The Psychology of Steroid Abuse in +Athletes." I received an "A" on every quiz and test. I received an "A" on my +report. I received an "A" in the class. I was ecstatic! + +This instructor somehow recognized a student that shouldn't have been there. +She had an alternate idea, and it worked for the both of us. I had learned +more about psychology than any student could ever have learned by attending +every class and taking notes. And it gave me hope for my other classes. + +The following semester I approached each of my instructors on the first day +of class with this idea in mind. None of them wanted to hear it. It was +ludicrous to them. I had to attend class or fail. End of story. + +By definition, the grade of "A" means "demonstrated mastery of the course +subject and material." Colleges don't care about the definitions contained in +their own policy guidelines. So what if you are a master of "subject x" or +"subject y?" So what if you are doing "A" level work. You missed "x" number +of classes, so you are getting an "F." This is contrary to the definition of +"A" work. Where is the logic in this? + +Smart students with a desire to learn are being destroyed by irrational +policies like attendance requirements. I graduated with a GPA of 2.02. I +should have graduated with a 3.80+ GPA. I received offers from almost every +one of my current, and previous, instructors for "Letters of Recommendation." +I became friends with many of my instructors, and even some I never took a +class from. But my desire for knowledge destroyed me. I was different. I +didn't conform. And I was punished for it. + +se7en + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/23/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0259.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0259.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e6f9f5bc --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0259.txt @@ -0,0 +1,177 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Whoooo are you...who,who...who,who... + ------------------------------------- + +Act II, Scene I +[Audience enters, sits] + +It's been a fair length of time since I took the soapbox for an extended +email sermon. When I did the rapid succession previously, I was entrenched +in a (now lost) war with the forces of nicotine addiction. It's a LOT +easier to expel angst and rage when all you want is a couple hauls off of a +duke (duke (n): another name for a cigarette, based on the fact that +cigarettes killed the Duke). Now, (un)happily smoking again, outbursts +become more analytical and calculated. + +I decided to write again because of this new found focus; this new harnessed +outlook. When you detach yourself from society in general, your senses +enhance (much like touch making up for the loss of sight). Like being the +only sober person at a party, you realize that drunks are idiots (i.e., me +(the drunk, not the observer)). Observation is nothing if you cannot share +it though. I can watch the news or see someone in traffic, realize how +pathetic or ridiculous society is, and laugh to myself. Problem: You +laugh, and think how funny said situation is. Then, you think it would be +even funnier if you could tell someone (much the same as thinking 'oooh, +that's what I should have said. that would have REALLY zinged 'em!'). Then +you slowly stop laughing because it is the twentieth time you thought that +today, and still have no one to tell. Then you stop laughing entirely when +you realize that you are a lonely, pathetic man with no life because you +have to amuse yourself. Finally, you compensate by sending long verbose +email ("I have this 'friend' with this problem..."). + +ANYway... + +Whether it be email, chat rooms, AOL, or just computing online in general, +you cannot be yourself. Either your name is taken, or you do not want to be +known. Whatever the reason, we assume names and identities online so that +we can navigate comfortably. Some consider it to be 'clothing' to wear on +the Internet rather than 'bare' ourselves. Using your real name online is +like spirit-gumming your wallet to your head, and then wandering outside the +greater Washington DC area. You will..no, DESERVE to be robbed, beaten, and +raped by the predators that stalk the Ether. + +I know that some companies force you to use your real name in email +(Jessidia_Springfield@microsoftinthehead.com), but that is also the +exception to safety. Online scam artists and hackers will largely leave you +unscathed. They realize that any company that makes you give out your name +(first, last, and god-knows-why, middle) in email, falling just short of +making you include your social security number, has already robbed you of +your identity to the point that there isn't one to left to steal. In +defense of these folks (since some are in the To: field), would you feel +safer working for a company that would allow "cuddlyface;)@citibank.com"? +Hell, I'd just as soon take free tube socks rather than participate in THEIR +401k. + +So, that just leaves the plain stupid. If you are "Seth_Brundel@aol.com", +you may as well be +"Seth_Brundel_199_W_Main_Chicago_555-1212@anal_pentarate_me.com". + +The rest of us live under assumed names. It could be from medieval +warriors, household plants, childhood toys ("Rooossseeebuuuddddd....."), or +Hawaiian words for "male part that dangles"; we all have a story to tell +with user names. Strangely, I have found, that no one wants to know +anymore. It is either a) you would never walk up to a guy in the park with +a shopping cart full of crusted Betamax videos, sharpening a straight razor +on his tongue as he wets himself, and ask how life's been treating him (the +"BETTER not to know" category), or b) you never ask a drug +dealer/spy/undercover cop/hooker their real name unless you want a automatic +round/stiletto/fist/switchblade in your face (the "SAFER not to know" +category). Either way, we are as comfortable with pseudonyms as Agents 86 +and 99. + +So now that you have your identity, and your unfathomable reason for it, you +go out to play in silicon pastures. Whether it be email, newsgroups, or +chat, you have your cape&cowl on, and your secret identity as +billionaire/philanthropist/playboy carefully hidden. You will send +messages, you will post questions and replies, and you come about as close +to interaction as sex through the glass at quarter peep-show. + +Still, despite the entrenched effort to avoid even verbal contact, people +are social animals, and will eventually want to talk or (shudder) meet. +This is when the real spycraft begins. Imagine you have been going back and +forth via email with someone at another company, or you meet through a chat +room. You are intrigued with the way they type, and desire to finally meet +(completely forgetting that in person they will not have 20 minutes to come +up with a typed reply, and thus are excruciatingly dull on-the-fly). + +Enter first contact: +"Hello" +"Errrr...hi." +"Hi" +"Who is this" +"Neil" +[silence] +"Who?" +"Neil. You know...wellhung. From AOL." +"Ohhhh. Hi." +"Hi" +[painful silence continues for a long, agonizing time] + +Now let's say the silence is eventually replaced with conversation. Let's +go so far as to say you continue to keep in touch. For a long time, you +will need to include your screen name with your real name like some +word-association or foreign language tape. Eventually, this +sign-countersign crap dissipates, but you accept having to go though with it +a little TOO easily. + +I mean, wasn't this the reason we have middle name? Aren't we given a +built-in alter-ego in case we later learn our parents cannot be trusted with +dolling out a first name? The real irony is that we go out of our way to +pick out a screen name that (while reflecting our personality in an +otherwise cold, electronic world) sounds ridiculous if said aloud. Even +worse is the fact we have to do it when we FIRST meet someone; during that +crucial first-impression period. Would you go to Denny's on a first date +(no, no one would, but bear with me for the sake of analogy) and order +"Moons Over My Hammy"? + +The best comedian laughs at himself. Thus, I admit I have gone through this +with more than one person on this mailing. I have been capone before I have +been me. The fact remains that I live out here in the data quite a bit, so +it's inevitable. The rest of you may not have had the pleasure yet. With +an increasing electronic world, you may still yet. + +What is the moral of the story? Duh, none, since I am neither of the +Brothers Grimm. What there is is a pause to think. You MUST pick an +identity to live behind online. It is 'The Club' when parking in the Bronx. +You MAY meet someone based on this name alone. So, try to pick something +you can live with. No little kid wants to be called 'stinky' because they +accidentally messed themselves at the playground one day. By the same +token, no mature adult wishes to be 'love-pistol', 'sleepybaby', 'foofy', +'camero-man', 'sassytabby', or +'five_days_off_of_thorazine_and_remembering_my_hands_are_razors'. + +So to you, my sensible friends, I beseech you to be there for a friend when +they sign up for "15 Free Hours!". Counsel them, warn them, coach them. Be +a humanitarian. Friends don't let friends pick #$%^#@ stupid user names. + +Nakedly, +Capone + +End Act II + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/23/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0260.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0260.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a2bd1500 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0260.txt @@ -0,0 +1,79 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Killing time on a Sunday afternoon + ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + + Have you ever noticed the way stupid people drive? You know who I'm +talking about. The ones who cut you off on the highway. The ones who take up +both lanes because they can't seem to make up their mind which one they want +to drive in. Those guys. + The ones who piss me off most are the ones who never signal a turn. +Just how hard is it to reach out your finger and flick that little turn +signal lever, anyway? My theory is that these people are simply too lazy +to use their blinkers once in a while. These lazy fucks can't possibly be +productive members of society. + So anyhow, I went to a busy corner last Saturday to do some +observing. I noticed that the worst "blinker offenders" are snobby yuppie +types with nice cars. I wanted to mess up one of these nice cars to show +the offenders the error of their ways. + On Sunday, I grabbed my short-handled maul (like a sledgehammer with +a short handle (hence the name, stupid)) and headed for the corner once +more. Hiding the maul between my back and the lightpost, I waited for an +opportune moment. At last, I saw my target: a trendily-dressed yuppie in a +green Chevy Blazer that sparkled from a recent wash. He pulled up to the +corner (failing to utilize his turn signal actuator) and stuck his head out +the window to look for a clear spot in traffic. I sauntered to his truck, +raised the maul, and brought it *whoomp!*ing down in a perfect arc. + Well, almost perfect. I was aiming for the nice shiny chrome side- +view mirror, but I ended up slamming the 10-pound maul into the offender's +temple. His eyes sort of bulged out and he groaned as he slumped a bit in +his seat. Well, I didn't need any lawsuits cluttering up my busy schedule, +so I figured I'd put the poor bastard out of his misery. I raised the maul +for another go, but his foot apparently slipped off the brake pedal, because +his truck started easing out into the oncoming traffic. + I started jogging alongside the Blazer, giving him a whack every +few seconds when I could lift the heavy maul. "Die, die, shithead, die!" I +screeched while turning his head into spaghetti sauce. But I couldn't hear +myself very well over the sounds of the oncoming traffic swerving around us +with blaring horns, shouting "hey you moron, get the fuck out the road!" But +their taunts didn't disturb me as much as the fact that they didn't signal +before they swerved into the next lane. But that's all right. + I'll take care of them tomorrow. + +-Legion + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/23/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0261.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0261.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9f10929f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0261.txt @@ -0,0 +1,119 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + SOL on AOL + ---------- + + I don't think this is one of those things that you have to know a +lot about publishing to laugh at, so here it goes: + + I work for a journal that publishes medical article, amongst other +things. I was talking with the printing house for our journal about how we +could save $1000 a year by emailing articles rather than sending them by +courier. Unfortunately, these stone-chiseling, cave-painting, Gideon +press-running, monk-scribbling, backward scribes have NO concept of anything +reasonably hi-tech other than to say that they came to work in a "horseless +carriage". This guy must have had a bowl of Crispy Wheat and Testicles for +breakfast ('Now with 30% more Cahonies!") because his reply to my request to +email these files was (ahem...) + + "My staff tells me it would be too labor intensive." + + Pardon!? "Labor intensive"!? Are they going to translate the files +from binary by hand? Am I sending these files in Apache? "Labor +intensive"!? + Now while you may think this is me over-reacting (perish the +thought) because I am (overly) comfortable with email, I disagree. Normally +I'd say yes if it were an Internet application, as I do understand that not +everyone has severed their ties with society and learned the ins-and-outs of +the internet. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Some of you may have +guessed what kind of email it is already, and understand why undies are all +in a bunch. + + They are using AOL. + + AOL and "LABOR INTENSIVE" go together the same way 'Christian +Coalition' and 'Maplethrope photo exhibit' roll off the tongue. + There are some that will say that AOL is still a little tricky. +Sure, I'll concede to this, too. My friend's grandmother had just a tizzy +trying to do a keyword search for a peach cobbler recipe until he showed her +to look up 'cooking' instead. I mean this woman could STILL BE THERE pining +away at AOL, wasting what could be her last few days of mortality, hung up +on a semantics problem. To this end, not everyone is an AOL guru, or even +needs to be one. + Still, please think with me for a moment: This is the disk that +they send to mailboxes all over the country, and of which over 6 million +people have figured out and use. This does not include the millions of +others that tried and didn't like it, or evolved up to the Internet +(sorry if I offend any AOL'ers, but the day will come when you log-on +with your online opposable thumb). This is the online software they +give to parolees and vagrants. This is the software that is behind every +third paper towel in public restrooms and are stuck to the floor of movie +theaters. It is so popular because ANYONE CAN USE IT. Even if you never +learn how to control satellite orbits from the "WELCOME!" window, there +is one thing that they are even training cockroaches to do after a nuclear +war: Send email on AOL. + + I will not know (or perhaps ever understand) what was 'labor +intensive' about AOL email until Tuesday, so I cannot share that with +you, kind reader. For that matter, I may never bring up again as the +concept has the mental equivalent of snorting paint thinner. I did want +to share this to demonstrate a point that those of us without children +have not learned yet. Do you remember giving the LAMEST excuses to your +parents, thinking you had pulled one over on them? + + "Who knocked over the milk?" + "Maybe it just FELL over!" + + "Are you asleep?" + "Yeah." + + "I told you not to do this." + "Well Dad said it was ok!" + + Bull. We never pulled any of crap-excuses over on them. I'm told +when you're a parent, you realize what kind of a BS artist you THOUGHT you +were at that age. To me, this whole email issue is the childhood/online +version of this. + + "Do think your Mother is an idiot? Go to your room until you're +ready to use AOL email, and that means without dinner young man!" + + + Capone + capone@dimensional.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/25/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0262.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0262.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bf19b9e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0262.txt @@ -0,0 +1,125 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + He's Not A Truthful Person + -------------------------- + +This is something Voyager recently told another person about me. It has +been gnawing at me ever since, because I know he is right. I do not hold +his statement against him. Why should I? He was telling the truth. More +than I had realized. + +I know how he drew his conclusion of me. I will not defend myself or make +excuses. I will try to make you understand why it is true. Nothing more. + +My father died when I was three years old. My mother was pregnant with my +youngest sister at the time. She was forced to raise her children alone +for several years, until there came a time when she couldn't do it +anymore, and married for convenience. + +My new step-something was a closet alcoholic. After time he stopped +hiding it. He would often beat me when my mother was away. I told my +mother one day, and she didn't believe me. She had asked him about it, +and he denied it. She took his word over that of her son. Maybe it was +for convenience. + +I was left to entertain myself most of my childhood. I never received an +allowance. I never received anything I asked for. I never had anything +but the bare essentials. I didn't have many friends. + +My mom divorced my step-something after two years. She fell in love with +a neighbor. He had many children, whose source of entertainment was +beating on me. I told my mother. Her solution was to take me to my +ex-step-somethings house for the weekend to be watched while she worked, +along with my sister. Every Saturday morning we were taken there. I was +beaten repeatedly. Every Sunday I was picked up. I knew not to tell my +mother about it, because I had already tried that once, and it didn't work. +But I could tell from the look in her eyes she knew. Knew that each +Saturday morning, she was leading me to slaughter. She brought me there +for convenience. + +Her boyfriend's kids kept beating on me. I said something. She asked, and +in the resulting verbal fight, they broke off the relationship. My mother +blamed me. Said it was all my fault. We moved away. + +I learned three things from this. Don't trust anyone, because if you +can't trust your own mother, who can you trust. Keep your mouth shut, or +else you will be beaten for it. The truth doesn't mean anything and will +only hurt you. + +I built a wall around myself. I lied to everyone, even my mother, about +everything. My reasoning was that you can't be hurt if they knew nothing +about you or what was really going on with you. In time I found the world of +computers a great place to hide from the world and be whoever I wanted to +be. I had the opportunity to build an image of myself among others of +how I would have wanted my life to be had I already not been destroyed +by others. + +Over time, this image of who I wanted to be became so ingrained in my +psyche that it is who I became. I became this person without a foundation +for it to rest on. As time went on, I became trapped. + +I stumbled upon philosophy one day and renounced god and religion. I +became my own god, and Objectivism became my new bible. I started to +become who I really was. I was happy. I had found meaning and direction. +But the ghost of my previous image I had built among others kept +returning to haunt me. I was not that person anymore, and I tried to +distance from it by simply being myself. + +I made new friends. I took old friends who's friendship I valued aside +and talked about what you are reading now. I learned a new lesson by +doing this: The truth will set you free. Because once the truth is out +there for all to see, no one can use it against you. I refused to become +a prisoner of my past, living in fear of the truth. + +My journey has been recent; it is only two years old. Voyager said his +journey took six years. I still have several years to go. Those of you +who have met me in the last year know the real me. I was actively +renouncing my past before I came out from the underground. But there is +still some of the old me mixed within that real me. People I have met in +the last year that I consider valued friends are seeing more of the real +me everyday. I am still shedding my past as I continue to grow and learn +more about myself, and having friends like Jericho make this whole +transition rewardable. I still have a long way to go, but I am slowly +making my way there. + +I ask one thing of all who know me, whether you consider yourself my +friend or my enemy. Can we go from here? Ask and I shall tell you the +truth. No matter what the consequences. + +se7en + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/25/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0263.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0263.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f2c7b1de --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0263.txt @@ -0,0 +1,150 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + An Old Debt + ----------- + +I am a wanted man. Not in the sense that anyone really wants me, of +course. I have a few friends who wish me to be around me, but this is +not to what I am referring. In this meaning of the term, I am wanted by +the United States government for past misdeeds which it holds against +me. + +Most, if not all, of the government employees responsible for marking me +as a wanted man have moved on to other job assignments and new lives. I +doubt any of them would recognize me if they ran into me on the street. +Nevertheless, the paperwork remains. + +I have lived these past 15 years in peace. During this time, I have +lived in a country that is not my own under a name that is not my own. +These have been prosperous years. My education in the United States and +my business skills have served me well. + +I am now returning to the United States. This is my first visit to my +own country since 1981. Although I miss my home greatly, that is not +the reason for my return. My return to America, at great personal risk, +is an attempt to partially repay a past debt. + +Fifteen years ago, my partner and I were involved in some shady business +dealings. Hell, it was outright crime. We took CitiBank for over a +million dollars, and we got caught. They took John, but I got away. I +got away because I ran fast and I ran far. I had no one and nothing to +hold me back. Before they noticed my absence, I was out of the country +and travelling under a false identity. It cost me quite a bit of money, +but CitiBank was footing the bill. + +John wasn't so lucky. John couldn't run. John wouldn't run. John had +a daughter. John loved that little girl more than I've ever loved +anything in my entire life. John loved that little girl more than I +have loved everything I have ever loved all put together. John lived +for that little girl. John stayed put. John stood trial. John stood +trial for his crimes and for mine. + +John was convicted and sentenced to two consecutive 20 year sentences. +John couldn't take it. John was never strong that way. Perhaps he +simply couldn't stand to be apart from his daughter for that long. John +killed himself in prison. + +John could have taken better care of his daughter had he lived. He +should have known that. John just couldn't have been thinking that when +he kicked that chair out from underneath himself. It was less than a +year into his sentence. + +The little girl was raised by her mother and John never once had custody. +Her mother left John before the girl was ever born. John would see the +child only on weekends. She was all he ever talked about. She was his +life, and when he lost her, he just stopped living. + +The little girl's mother wasn't the best of people. John had loved her. +John didn't love her anymore. She burned out that love in ways only a +woman can. I never did understand why she did what she did, and neither +did John. + +I haven't been a father to the little girl. I've been living in hiding. +The little girl's mother does not approve of me, and she has little +reason to. I was part of what John killed. She was a part too, +although she will never know that. + +I hope she has raised the child well, but I have no reason to believe +that to be the case. She was never fit to raise a child, but she was +the only one who was allowed to. Some kids grow up right in spite of +their parents. I only hope this is one of those kids. + +I've come to America to see this little girl. Only she's not so little +anymore. She's seventeen and she's in high school. It's in school that +I will meet her. Well, not in school exactly. I can't risk being +identified in her school. I can't risk being identified by her mother. +Nevertheless, I must risk this journey to see the girl. + +My salvation is, as has often been the case, an old friend. I have a +friend who is a doctor and who is a female. You see, no seventeen year +old girl in her right mind would allow herself to be approached by a +lone adult man. My good friend will be there though. She will be +my ticket to safely speak with John's daughter. Using a simple pretext, +my friend will arrange for me to meet the girl. + +As soon as we are together, I will come clean. My freedom depends on +the girl trusting me enough not to scream out. I do not know the girl, +but I knew the father. I have enough faith in the blood to risk what I +am risking. + +I do not come to bring the girl money. I do not owe John or his +daughter any money. I have plenty of money, and I would give it all to +John's daughter, or anything she needs just as if she were my own daughter. +But money is not the purpose of my visit. Money is base and dirty and +money is part of what caused the death of her father. + +I come with a message for the little girl. I come to tell her about her +father. I come to tell her about his wit, his sensitivity, his love of +life and his wonderful sense of humor. Most importantly I come to tell +her about how much he loved her. + +I don't know what the girl's mother told her about John, but I'm certain +he would have wanted her to know the truth. Her mother was never strong +on the truth, in fact, I bet she even lies to herself. The little girl +deserves to know what kind of a man her father really was and how much +he loved her. If her mother was never able to love her and if no one else +in her life ever loves her, her father loved her, and she deserves to know +that. + +I am an old man. I am risking the last years of my life to tell a +seventeen year old girl how her dead father felt about her. Is it worth +it? You bet your ass it is. + + +*** A work of fiction by the Voyager. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/25/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0264.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0264.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..82c682b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0264.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Unhappy Birthday + ---------------- + +The following is something I got from a friend of mine: + +> "The latest is the fact that I was reprimanded for refusing to take part in +> singing Happy Birthday to Teri yesterday. I bought her a present and a +> card, and wished her a good day. (Which, I might add, is more than she +> did for ME.) Anyway, I'm a horrible person, apparently. I've explained +> my aversion to this task to everyone MANY times. Since I was at least +> EIGHT I've hated it. I've decided that, nearly 25 years later, it's time +> for me to stop doing what I don't wanna do. I think, perhaps, I was +> bludgeoned to death by someone who happened to be singing Happy Birthday +> WHILE they were bludgeoning." + +So, after reading this, I starting thinking about the singing of "Happy +Birthday". I read an article by Dave Barry last summer talking about group +singing. He pointed out that you can't get two people, let alone a whole +office or party, to sing "Happy Birthday" ('HB') on key. Yet, to his +amazement after watching endless seasons of B-ball, everyone can chat "Air +Ball" in perfect pitch and harmony. He said to watch a game sometime and +listen when the chant starts. After about the second chat, everyone is +singing at the correct pitch with impeccable timing. Hmmmm.... + +Point being, like many things, if you cannot use it right do not use it at +all. This goes for singing 'HB'. Hearing those off-key voices is about as +charming a thought as hearing the whooping and yelling of the Bloods or +Crips as they chase my lilly-white butt through S. Central. I think that +singing 'HB' is more traumatic than birth itself. Leaving the warm, fluid +comfort of the womb for a cold, bright, loud world is piddle next to mock +excited-faced co-workers trying to bellow out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU....." + +grrrrrr...... + +I mean, is this a Viking chant or Klingon war cry as a warrior grows one +year closer to death. Does this crap-song announce the beginning of my +journey to Valhalla? Like some Gregorian chant, at best, I think this song +is sung to ward off the reaper who shall not approach the wailing of the +office banshees. + +The simple fact is this: Most people cannot sing. When they do, they are +hit with rounds of comments about keeping their day job. If you asked +someone to sing you Layla at work, they wouldn^t. Then WHY, I ask you, do +they get together and sing on your birthday. If their voices are so awful +that they wouldn^t even sing a song they like in the car alone at night, +why yell one in your face while you^re trying hard to deal with the cruel +fact of mortality. + +Marilyn Monroe; sing your brains out. Beatles; I'll take that ditty any +day. Trapped in the lunchroom at work? I'd just as soon hear my initials +carved in my teeth with broken glass. + +And a One, and a Two.. + +-Capone +capone@dimensional.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/25/96) + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0265.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0265.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9c1841df --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0265.txt @@ -0,0 +1,243 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Jake Bastard + ------------ + + Complete shit. Daily life had hit an all time low as far as the +standard of living.. and everything else for that matter. The turn +of the century did not bring radical changes for the better like +the president had promised. In fact, things had become much worse, +and much quicker than ever before. + + It was over a year ago that Congress passed laws making provisions +for private individuals to become certified law enforcement officers. +It was only two weeks later before those individuals became half +mercenary, half bounty hunters. Not exactly the "private police" the +government had intended. + Senators that had drafted the bill envisioned law-abiding +citizens taking certification classes that resembled police training. +With that certification, these people would patrol bad neighborhoods +as regular police, but only respond to calls they wanted to.. ie: +get paid for. The promise of police-like soldiers sounded good to +the violent streets, so people pushed for it to pass. + + Jake was not exactly a clean cut guy. "Low life", "scum", +and "bastard" were the usual colorful adjectives used to describe +him by the street cretin, his clients, and everyone else. The petty +insults didn't affect him though, rather the condition of society +did. Crime was on a drastic spiral downward with no end in site. + He couldn't complain too much about business though, the +need for police service was always present. Fortunate for him, victims +of crime weren't always lucky to get state funded officers, and +had to rely on the 'private' police. Dispatch for all of the officers +was done through a central service with 'real' officers getting +routed whenever possible. Once that buffer of 'real' police had been +crossed, people like Jake stepped up to do the job, and get paid for +his services. + + He looked at his watch and sighed out loud. He had promised +himself to complete each shift even though he set his own hours. About +the only thing keeping him motivated was thinking about later. He had +planned on renting some flesh and kicking back with a few beers. His +Big Gulp came to an end too quickly and concluded his break once again. +Settling back into the front seat of the hummer he turned the radio +back on to monitor police traffic, waiting for the next call. It was +only a matter of minutes before it came through. + + "One Eight two.. please respond.. Four Eleven in Progress" + + A quick response to acknowledge the call and he was off. +The tires squeeled as the big vehicle slid onto Colfax. This was the +only road he patrolled, and for good reason. Recent reports indicated +that 30% of the crime in Denver revolved around the long and dirty +street. Some chalked that number up to the fact it was the longest +continous road in the country, others because of the inhabitants +of the area. Either way, it was very profitable for the 'private' +cops that braved it's dangers. + The call told him there was an armed robbery in progress but +hostages were involved. Not his favorite job, but typically very +rewarding financially. Using his knee to keep the wheel steady, +he barrelled down Colfax checking his two guns for ammo. As usual, +both were loaded and ready to go. The white flashing lights on the +top of the hummer was more than enough to clear the road for him. + + The hummer screeched to a stop about fifty feet from the +front of the building. All of the lights were off inside, but the +hundreds of bullet holes on the front facade told him he was in the +right place. Jake looked over to the two 'real' officers that had +arrived and guessed that dispatch couldn't scrape together any +backup. He didn't like that.. the 'real' police hated the 'private' +police more than anyone. + Both of the uniformed officers had their guns out and were +trying to keep their eyes on the front of the building. Neither could +help a quick glance to see who had come to help them. The look +in their eyes told Jake that they didn't approve of the blue jeans and +flannel appearance he preferred. Under the flannel was a D1 rated +bullet proof vest that had stopped over a dozen bullets in the past. +Jake pulled out his two Sig .45s and moved over to the police car +to talk with the officers. + + Not ones for chat, the officers roughly clued him in to the +situation of five well armed individuals inside, all trigger happy. +With no light around, and the few street lights shot out, Jake +pulled out his glasses and switched them on. It took a few seconds +for him to adjust to the night vision, but it was something that +had saved his life almost as much as his vest. + Now his real dilemna. If he moved in now, the officers would +not back him up since there was no other backup. If he waited with them, +he didn't get paid. Not a hard choice really, but he always gave it a +chance. The glasses switched over to infrared giving him a look inside +the building. Looked like four dead figures, two hostages, and only +three armed individuals. Typical, the cops had lied to him in hopes +of keeping him out of the way. + + Jake ran to the very corner of the building and looked around. +There were several cases in the past where a sniper lurked from nearby +buildings to take out any police that tried to interfere with a robbery. +Considering this was a high risk robbery, a sniper was not out of the +question. He panned around looking at windows, balconies, and roof tops +trying to ascertain just how many people were involved in this hit. + + "There he is.." + + He didn't speak very loud, but was happy to notice the extra +person. The figure on the rooftop had what appeared to be a high powered +rifle aimed at one of the officer's backs. It was kind of ironic that +the person didn't consider him a threat, but was willing to take out +a few cops to help his friends out. He brought both of the sigs up +to take aim, and unleashed. Two rounds from each gun shot out and across +the street. The glasses he wore allowed him to zoom in and watch as all +four rounds struck the sniper in the face. + The two officers snapped around to see what he shot at and +immediately realized how vulnerable they had been, and how lucky +they were for Jake. Both nodded to Jake and looked back at the +front of the building. He knew that was the most he would ever get +out of them, but it only costed him two bucks for the ammo. Back to +the task. + + With his back to the wall, he slid down the south side of the +building heading for a back door. He hoped the back door was the entry +point for the robbers, and that it would also offer him that same +service. As he moved farther from the street, he began to thank his +glasses again as they offered him near perfect vision. + Taking position at the back door, he peered around the corner +hoping to get a better look inside. The infrared told him how many +people were in there, but robbed him of the depth perception of other +forms of vision. He kneeled down at the back door and scanned the +interior. The back room of the building contained boxes and shelves +lined with electronics gear. It was then that Jake realized he hadn't +noticed what kind of store this was. + Pawn shops always brought around the worst robbers. Not only +were they well armed, they were stupid. Even if they went in with +minimal firepower, once in they had access to anything the store +was trying to sell off. That almost always included some nice guns. +Robbing pawn shops was something that amateurs did as most stores +were equipped with timed safes, remote video monitoring, and other +security devices. Beyond that, they rarely brought in cash. + Between all of that, the sniper, and some gut feeling, something +seemed out of place. Maybe he was about to shoot three really ignorant +people, or maybe there was something else he was missing. Either way, +should be easy money for him. + + Both guns lead the way, one at chest level, one at waist level. +Jake approached the wall that seperated them to determine what it was +made of. He silently cursed at the reinforced alloy wall knowing he +couldn't shoot through it. Jake also took comfort in knowing the +robbers couldn't shoot him either. + This was it, time for his move. He took a split second to close +his eyes and pray to nothing in paticular before this went down. Moving +toward the door he readied himself for the firefight to come. The +door between him and the next room was held open with a small radio. +One kick and the door flew open exposing him to the occupants within. + His two guns blazed in front of him firing in rapid succesion. +It was obvious he caught the robbers off guard as he shot the first two +in the back, delivering at least five rounds into each. The third robber +was quick enough to dive behind a display case in hopes of avoiding +the fate his friends had just received. Jake scanned the room quickly +and made sure the two employees were still alive. He had to get paid +by someone. + + The proverbial standoff again. Jake kneeled down behind one +display case while his opponent stayed behind his. The fact that he +was able to take out the first two so easily was indication that +they were amateurs. The firepower they carried suggested they were +some of the better mercenaries you could hire. Either way, the third +guy should be pretty spooked right now, and not expecting.. + Jake broke into a run across the small store and dove over +the opposing counter. As he sprung from the ground his Sigs let +out their fury until he rolled to a stop just inches away from the wall. +The fact that he didn't get shot in the back as he stopped told him +he was successful. He turned around to see several wounds in the +chest of the robber. Apparently, he was lying on his back waiting +for Jake to make the move. Obviously, he wasn't expecting that move. + + Cycling through all the forms of vision on his glasses, he +verified that no one of danger was left. Holstering his guns, he moved +toward the two forms huddled in the corner. After the glasses came off, +he assured the two people they were out of danger, and explained who +he was. Along with that information came the typical routine of moving +them to the front window where they could see the 'real' police +out front.. doing nothing to help them. + That was usually all it took to get the money. As the police +entered the building and began to fill out the report, he started +bargaining with the two people there, which turned out to be the +owners of the store. Jake was done negotiating his price long before +the police finsihed their reports. + + Another Big Gulp, and another two hours before shift was over. +He had made his money for the night, but kept his promise to stay out +there the whole shift. He was number 182 out of just over 700 'private' +police roaming the city. Not exactly the best guy, but one of the best +for the job. This was his life, his claim to big money and some kind +of future. A kind of future he wasn't sure about, but one that he +had to keep his faith in. It was the only way to make it day to day. + + +-dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through Anon FTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM - /users/rage/zines/fuck = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(11/26/96) + + + + + + + + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0266.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0266.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7b7cb15d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0266.txt @@ -0,0 +1,168 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Doin' it in Texas + ----------------- + + Here it is, the file to break my writer's block. No matter what, +this will be the time to get past over four months of no serious writing. +You never know exactly why it happens, and normally you can't tell what +it is that makes you break out of that cold room and begin to throw your +thoughts out to the world. So this time.. lets try forcing it. + + Sleep no longer comes easy to me. In the past I haven't been one +to sleep the days away or anything, as I usually get somewhere between +two and six hours a night. These days, things have been different. For +the past month and a half, I have spent my nights in a hotel in another +state. That may be one of many things lending to my sleepless nights. +Every night I fall asleep to music, typically something very calm and +relaxing to make the transition from chaos to rest as smooth as possible. + These past few weeks I find myself staying awake listening to +entire CDs, getting up, changing discs, and listening to more. Every +night I can tell something is missing from my life but I can't put my +finger on it. I know what isn't missing, and I know what I flat out don't +want. I have friends, at least all I could want right now. It isn't +female companionship right now, as I have no real desire for any +relationship or commitment. + Something out there is missing.. its out of my grasp. My hobby +has turned into my job and I enjoy working more than ever before. I see +my family and aquaintences frequently, so no on that one. I keep running +down a list of things that might be that missing link, but I still can't +put my finger on it. I know motivation in certain areas is right out +the door. I have been sitting on a ton of writing projects that I will +someday get to. Oh well, just a a matter of time. Until then, onward.. +more things annoy me. + + What else is up. Got to spend thanksgiving down here in Texas +at my boss's house (My boss down here that is). Other than that I have +spent my weekends with some really good guys, all of which I have met +through the internet. Just happens that quit a few live within a couple +hours of where I am which makes the weekends much more interesting than +sitting in the hotel room watching overpriced pay per view movies. + Back to music real quick. My latest interest has been in the +various femme singers. Tori Amos, Sophie B. Hawkins, Poe, Milla, Suzanne +Vega, Jewel, Enya, Shakespear's Sister, and others. Something about +these artists is just really impressive and worth listening too. For +most of them, not only the incredible voices, but exceptional lyrics +and great instrumental backup. I have thought a little about trying +to put words to express the feelings that kind of music brings about +in me, but just can't do it. Anyway, if my word means anything, go out +and purchase large quantities of music by those artists. + + Been doing mass quantities of that email thing. I have always +been one for writing rather than talking on the phone. Since I am now +out of touch from most of the people I know, I have relied on mail as +a quasi-escape from hotel life. It works. Every day I would guess +my friends and I write well over 50k (about five times the length +of this file) back and forth talking about the normal stuf. Kinda funny, +how distance affects email. While in Denver, it always seems mail is +much shorter and much more to the point. I guess it is just knowing +that you can pick up the phone and make a local call if you have to, +or something else. Maybe it is just feeling that distance. + So what the hell is the point of this whole file? Who cares. +I learned long ago that expressing your daily thoughts like this +does wonders to help you clear your mind, see your own thoughts, and +more. Just knowing that other people will read your raw emotions +makes you feel kinda weird, at least it makes me feel that way. Think +about it; a dozen, hundreds, maybe thousands of people reading what +is beyond second nature to you. So next time you are out on that +newsgroup, or on some BBS, or in mail with a friend, just write about +what is on your mind. About once a week I get a piece of mail like +that from someone who has read a newly released file, had some thoughts, +and turned it into a healthy letter about what is on their mind. +I read and respond to all mail so feel free to write. + + I'm a computer geek if you haven't been able to tell. Don't +exactly look like one (at least the stereotypical one). Found out +two things that really annoyed the hell out of me yesterday. I use to +play a lot of sports, everything from soccer to rugby to baseball to +tennis to just about everything else. So I went down to play basketball +at the little court here at the hotel. Met a co-worker and we shot for +a while before a couple more guys joined and asked to play a game. +Both of these kids were younger than I, one was much bigger but looked +pretty dense. The first thing that annoyed me was their style of playing +ball. This wasn't a friendly pickup game, this was a battle to the death. +It was obvious they took it a lot more serious than I did, but there is +a line that needs to be drawn. + I couldn't help but think of how much they imitated the basketball +players on TV, talked about them, and everything else. Its funny watching +them try to be like them, but knowing how pathetic they are at the sport. +I'm not saying I am better than they are (even though my outside shot +puts them to shame), but all they could do was elbow their way under +the basket and throw up a little layup for two points. Also funny how +they never called their own fouls even though I did, kept encouraging +each other to drive in on me since I wasn't playing as active defense +as my partner, or hit half of their outside shots. So overall they +annoyed me. + The other major thing that annoyed me was myself. A few years back +I found out I had excercise induced asthma which really puts a downer +on any sport. I played the two-on-two game for maybe fifteen minutes +before I was coughing and wheezing trying to catch my breath. I really +do like sports too, and really wish I could partake a little more often. +So until some miracle cure comes out, more billiards and computing for me. + + Welp, now I get to flip a coin. Heads I release this to the world, +tails, you never see it. I wonder how many other people do that with +their writing. I also have to wonder if people even know that this is done +with some of my files. No idea how many I have deleted because of the +toss of a coin. Not a lot or anything, but a few. Not wasted thoughts either, +but more a mental release than anything. + So, after all is said and done, is my writer's block gone? +Who knows, but I certainly hope to hell it is. Although it isn't the +worst thing as I have had some great writers pick up the duty. Hopefully +they will keep writing and sharing their thoughts with the rest of us. + + Things are most definitely not diminishing... + + I'll wrap it up here, and leave you with this thought: + + "As I stand in darkness, I feel the warmth of the light upon my + skin and I know my face is turned toward the sun. I can look into + the sun, for my eyes are forever shrouded by darkness. But if you + who can see look too long in the sun, you will lose your sight, + just as those who live too long in the darkness will gradually lose + theirs." + Weis & Hickman + + +- dis + +shout outs: Major, Plexor, Vidiot, z3ns, Apok, El_jefe, Dave_SOB, + Capone, T*P, Voyager, Patty, Rage, Daemon9, se7en, + Freya, Presence, all the fans of the zine, the users of + 'The Lemming', all my cats, and then some. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(12/4/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0267.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0267.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bf519fb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0267.txt @@ -0,0 +1,524 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Suicide Note + ------------ + +As the last flicker of life died in my wife's eyes I looked at my hands +around her neck and remembered that I was a religious man. Religion is +about love, and I loved her even as I killed her but of course she didn't +get it. If she'd gotten it maybe I wouldn't have killed her'll never know +because I agree with the group of particle physicists who say there's +really no such thing as if. The things we do are just events in a +multi-dimensional universe where everything we do here has an opposite +and equal reaction in another unseen but congruent universe. I'm not +kidding. There really is a large group of reputable physicists whose +study of the behavior of light quanta has led them to that conclusion. +But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? You're probably out +of the same herd of one-dimensional cows as my wife. Not that I didn't +love her. + +Not that I don't love you. I love all you credit-wearing consumer units +who trek out each day to do the one meaningful act in your slot-track +lives, which is...but you don't get the reference to slot-track do you? +They were little powered cars that raced around a preconstructed track in +slots. They got their power and direction from the slots, but I'm sure +you didn't get the reference because they haven't been hot in over six +years and anything that happened more than three months ago is automatically +erased in a consumer unit's mind. Because a consumer unit's one +meaningful function is to buy, and if your buying is to continue on +schedule you have to forget that anything is supposed to last, including +wisdom, truth, faith or history. + +That's why it will take most of you about a week to forget I killed my +wife. That little fact will be erased by a blizzard of sitcom stars +shining out at you from the supermarket tabloids that are your only +memorable source of information. No? What do you think is the source of +conventional wisdom? What do you remember, the fact that the latest space +shuttle is going to carry forty-three pounds of plutonium on top of a +liquid-fueled bomb that has a one in seventy-eight chance of exploding or +that Rosanne Barr has become "difficult"? The fact that forty-three +pounds of plutonium is enough to give every person on the planet lung +cancer or that the president didn't catch any fish while he was on +vacation? Not that you'll remember who Rosanne Barr or the president is +in a few years. + +Remember this though, as you take your daily tabloid pill from Doctor +Rather. It's something you might even be able to recall at the end of the +evening when Cosby's sent the kids to bed for you and you're tired of +struggling through those long sentences in TV Guide. There's a darkness +that doesn't need night to come because it's there waiting behind +whatever it is you don't know you desire. And there is a witchcraft that +doesn't need a full moon because the moon always orbits full around the +dark side of any light you care to name, including television screens, +including love. + +And love is what religion is all about. Did I tell you I was a religious +man? Religion: sin and redemption. That's what religion was originally +about. Sin is a word you'll never see in the tabloids unless it's a quote +from one of the wig-merchant preachers who use it as a crowbar to pry +open the poor. And I know to that to most of you redemption is a tax +refund, but originally it meant forgiveness for your sins, and better +yet, release from them. + +That was the problem; I wanted forgiveness but not release because my sin +was feeling like God. Redemption would have meant giving up that feeling, +and I couldn't. God: I still capitalize his name; an affectionate +gesture. He can't help it if he inspires emulation and I can't help it if +I emulate. Can you see the bind I'm in? I still believe in God but resent +him deeply for creating me in his image. That's what the bible says, you +know. He created us in his image. So what are we supposed to do about +this potential for cheap imitation? + +I mean just what the hell was I supposed to do after the first time Sella +lay facedown across the motel bed, midnight hair spread on the floor, and +said in her little tin growl, "You can do anything to me you want, anything." + +That's what she said. Then she raised the short leather skirt, showing me +the straps of the garter belt as they extended up the tightly flared +white of her thighs like the tails of a lash. Then she rose to her knees +and with a soft grunt pulled the skirt to her waist. She was small and +thin, but her ass flared wide and pulsed outward like some giant white +heart. It was shocking in its solid abundance, a secret thrill that only +the favored could know. She raised it higher and as it swayed there over +her head the little growl in her voice was changed to a light shriek by +the way her face was pressed into the mattress. "Anything," she said +again. "Anything you want. You can hurt me. I like to be hurt. I like to +be humiliated. I'll do anything you say. I deserve it." + +I swayed on my feet as the blood rushed from my head to my groin and back +again. I felt like I was expanding in all directions. She meant it. She +was giving me power, Godlike power. Sure. it was a cheap imitation, like +a little electric shock compared to a lightning bolt, but it was the +closest I'd ever come. I know a lot of you consumer units are thinking +you would have refused, saved by the atheism of your dead imaginations. +And maybe you would have. But that wouldn't have saved you because any of +you who've ever come but once would have asked yourselves why. Women too, +if Sella had been a man, and she could have been, if she wanted you to +think so. And the question why is the thing that puts the first hole in +the safety of your ignorance. It's the question that comes for you when +bad things happen, and they will, because I met Sella. + +Through some helix of irony that now seems as fated as poisoned strands of +DNA I met her through my wife. My wife's name is, excuse me, was Marian. +She was a tall honey blonde with a face like Meryl Streep's plumper +sister and one of those big-boned Minnesota Swede bodies. You know, a +hundred and forty pounds maybe but not fat, just big through the +shoulders with cream-pie breasts and haunches instead of hips. She was +about a half-inch taller than me and very attractive in an earthbound +way. I admired her. She had intelligence and guts. As I was strangling +her, just as her face turned purple, she whacked me so hard I had a +bruise on the side of my face for a week. I don't say that to be crude, +just to illustrate one of her better qualities. If I was able I'd miss +her, but of course I'm no longer able. To miss her I'd have to imagine +she was real and people are just a collection of feelings, aren't they? +When I killed her I took those feelings which comprised the entity +named Mirian into myself. So she's just as real now as before. That's a +concept I wasn't conscious of when I met Sella in the discussion group. + +Mirian was a sociology instructor at the local community college. She was +heading an adult education seminar on modern mores or some such thing and +asked me if I wanted to participate. I didn't, but she'd been carping +about me showing no interest in her career, so I agreed to sit in a few +times just to see what she was up to. We decided to keep the fact that I +was her husband a secret so it didn't inhibit the group or me. + +My eyes locked onto Sella as soon as I entered the room. She was wearing +a black sheath dress with black hose that matched the crow-wing sheen of +her hair. She had a long thin face that suggested an American Indian , or +rather an Indian's idea of someone he might come across in a forbidden +part of the desert: tomahawk cheekbones and a mouth so wide it made the +rest of her face look like something it had kissed into existence. Her +nose was a bit too long and had a cruel little hook to it that matched +the one at the corner of her cunt-curl mouth. It was her eyes though that +locked onto mine and sucked my brain to climax. They were as ice gray and +hungry as those of an arctic wolf; tundra eyes reflecting the hiss of +some winter sun that lay deep-gone over the horizon. + +She said nothing in the session; an attitude souffle about honesty that +was punctured every time Sella moved her eyes from my crotch to my face +and back again. She flicked them at first and then did it slower, +hungrier each time with a kind of tongue-lolling languor that made me +feel like I was being licked all over. Sometime during the middle of all +that she began showing me flashes of thigh, crossing her legs, slumping a +little in her chair so the sheath rose higher, then uncrossing her legs. +It took only a few minutes of that for me to realize from the black and +white contrast of her upper thighs that she was wearing a garter belt and +stockings. There may be a man over the age of thirty-five somewhere who +isn't aroused by a garter belt and stockings on a pair of high-flow legs, +but don't trust him because he's a liar. + +When we were boys all women wore them and women is what we wanted. Girls +knew it and wore them too. I spent untold classroom hours looking for +that not-too-subtle tan-white promise I'd somehow seen in prepuberty +fever dreams. That night in my wife's classroom with Sella I was doing it +again; feeling overheated and dizzy, becoming more capable of rape by the +minute. Ten minutes before the end of class she crossed her legs one last +time, took off one high heel, and used her architecturally arched foot to +massage the back of her other leg up to the knee, down to the heel, +slowly, tongue slowly. The slight buzz of nylon against nylon sounded as +faint and plain as a zipper in a dark room. Five minutes before the end +of class I left and waited at a far turn in the hall so I could catch her +while Marian was collecting her papers. + +Sella knew. I saw her wait until the rest of the class was almost to me +before she started down the hall; her breasts small enough to move free +inside the knit sheath; ram's-head nipples butting strong against rolling +black circles. She had an insect-thin waist and a swaybacked walk +propelled by an ass so mobile you could see it move from the front. The +others were already out the door when she got to me. I was going to step +in front of her but she stopped, turned, faced me with those ice-dog eyes +and said in a voice like a fingernail on my spine, "Marian is talking +about honesty with a student. She'll probably be about five minutes." +Then she looked at my crotch again and up to my eyes, emitting something +between a sigh and a groan as she did. It was that little tin shriek that +was to become so loud in the upcoming months that it was all I could hear. + +I grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her around the corner. She gave +me a little groan again but didn't resist. "Why?" I asked. "Why were you +doing that?" + +She turned so that one of her breasts kissed the back of my hand. "You +mean trying to show you I wasn't wearing any panties?" she said in her +little growl. + +I released her arm and leaned against the wall, attacked again by fever +dreams. She stepped forward so that the rounds of her thighs hugged my +legs. "You didn't notice," she said. "I tried to show you but you didn't +notice." + +"Why?" I managed to croak. "Why are you doing this?" + +She rocked a little on my leg, raising the knit dress as she did so, +bringing raw nylon in contact in contact with the jeans I was wearing. +"Because I can always spot a husband," she growl whispered close to my +ear. "You're Marian's husband, and I like husbands." + +"Why?" + +"Because I'm bad." She whimpered a little, a sound that made me ashamed +for her, and hard. "Because I'm bad," she said. "I'm so bad only a man +who's being bad can give me what I need." + +I almost walked away but I felt the wet breath of her sentence on my +neck. "And what's that?" I asked instead. + +She gave the tin growl as she rocked on my leg so hard that the dress +slipped above the top of her stocking and I felt white thigh-fever +against my leg. She leaned forward into my neck and slipped a piece of +paper into my pocket. "Anything you tell me I need," she said. "And I +mean it." Then she leaned back, looked at her watch, and said, "Five +minutes, don't forget I mean it." + +She went out the door in a way that made me wish I was a door and I was +alone against the wall, dripping sweat onto my shirt, prostate fluid into +my pants. + + +That night in bed with Marian I was like a lion on an antelope. I wanted +to draw blood. I wanted to crack her spine. Our marriage had always +included regular sex but the method was always what magazines with douche +ads call "comfortable." Marian would lie on her back or, when she was +especially passionate, on top of me and give out a few oohs and a "that's +nice" or two then come with all the regularity and passion of the morning +newspaper. + +The night I met Sella Marian sweated like a boar and grunted like a sow. +She trashed and raked me and even tried to throw me off but I'd just flip +her into a new position and drive on because my semen was boiling inside +me and I wanted to make it hurt her as much as it was hurting me. She +made birth sounds and came three times, but afterward she looked at me +from the other side of the bed like I'd suddenly grown fangs. "You +frightened me," she said in an apprehensive voice. + +"You came three times," I answered in my defense. + +"I didn't even know it," she said. "I was lost." + +It was then that I felt the beginnings of power, the thrill of subsuming +another person into your desires, making them a seed out of which your +fulfillment grows. If she had only agreed to it things might have been +different but of course it was her fate to die rather than agree to it +just like religion tells us. You know, disobedience is sin and the wages +of sin is death. It's right there in the Bible, you could look it up but +you won't. You'll just go on reading douche magazines and believing in +"relationships" that are "comfortable." + +That's what Marian wanted to do. After a bout with Godlike sex during +which she came three times and couldn't remember two of them all she +could say was that she wanted to know it when she came. Mind you, she +didn't deny she came three times but she wanted to know when, wanted to +enjoy it. She went to heaven but didn't like it because she couldn't +remember the address. She wanted low-fat no-cholesterol bite-sized safe +sex instead of pig-slop pleasure, and it killed her. Because then I knew. +I knew I had to have Sella and once I had Sella I had to have it all. If +Marian had only submitted it might have saved us both. After all, Abraham +was willing to kill his son for God. All Marian had to do was be a sex +object. Not that I think I'm God. What a cliche. I don't even want to be +God. I just want to feel like him. It's not my fault. I didn't make the +world but if I had I wouldn't have told my children they were created in +my image. I'd have let them come without knowing it just like I did +Marian. I tried to save her but she'd too many douche ads to accept dirty +love. So I had to find another way to love her. I learned that way from +Sella. + +"I know what you want," she said on the phone, and told me to name the +time and place, any time and place. I did. The next day I found myself in +a room watching Sella rock the garter-whipped purity of her veinless +white ass against the darkness while begging me to hurt her. And I did. I +whipped her. I told her to stay in exactly that position while I whipped +her with my belt and every time she moved I whipped her some more. When I +saw her skin beginning to redden to the point of blood I stopped until it +passed but I told her stay in that position the whole time.She did. It +was a transcendent experience. At first I could see her whole body in all +its pornographic glory as I vented my anger at Marian on it. Sella's ass +shook with each blow, sending ripples of force up each side of her body +to her breasts and down her legs where they straightened her toes. The +more I whipped her the angrier I became at Marian for refusing to allow +me to stop of what I was now doing. Because I would never have whipped +Marian, unless she'd asked me and of course she wouldn't have asked me. +Not that I'd have wanted to. She wasn't built for it; too big, too +unsegmented. It would have been as erotic as driving a mule team. + +I would have continued normal animal sex with her though, watching the +sweat splash as she flopped around the bed, but she wouldn't and that +made me mad, which sent me to Sella who received anger like an offering, +which after a while it was. Because after the first flush I got when I +realized I was actually whipping her, after the first time I'd rested so +she wouldn't mar the occasion by bleeding, I ceased to see her body at +all. Rather I ceased to see her as a body. The blackness of her dress +blended with the dark of the room and the white of her skin with the +lightness of bed and bathroom beyond until I imagined myself alone in the +room and her ass a blank page upon which I was writing a save-me note to +the world. The more I whipped the more articulate I became, the tip of my +belt landing just where I aimed and eliciting a different note in the +continuous keening wail that came from Sella but which seemed to come out +of my own screaming frustration at being locked onto two legs in a world +that is mostly air. When I became aware of Sella's noises I stopped +writing and became a musician. Every cry of rage or pleasure or fear or +want I'd ever felt in my life I was able to bring to her lips through the +instrument of my belt, and as it got more accurate and more intense there +was no remaining difference between Sella, the room, and myself. I was +creating a world through the mediums of pain and violence and I didn't +stop until she became me and I was feeling the burn in my head more +strongly than she on her skin and we were two poles of an electrical +field so strong that if anyone else had touched the belt at that moment +it would have killed them. + +It was in that moment that I drew the belt aside, leapt onto the bed, and +shoved into her like a coked-up angel sent by the Almighty to cuckold +Lucifer, and the only way to cuckold Lucifer is to give his wife more of +what she wants than he does. So I used myself as a weapon. I banged +against the backs of her thighs so hard that her head drummed against the +bedboard with the doomlike thud of the slave-master's hammer on a galley +ship. I bit her and slapped her and bent her into positions that made her +nothing but an orifice with a body attached. And I used every orifice she +had, finishing with the one Lucifer likes the most; the one that makes +the cunt seem like a debutante at her coming out party, the one on the +side of town where the lights never shine, the gateway to the gardens of +perversion where the black roses of hubris grow out of wells of dark +satin. And as I did it I could read her spine from the inside and it +said, "Yours is the thing that writes the limits of my life. Yours is the +alchemy that changes my pain to bone and my bone to come." And I did it +harder and her wail swallowed itself into a muted roaring grunt so I +could feel it sitting on the end of my spear, and as I came I could see +the limits of my life expand like the speed and reach of the universe. I +could squeeze air and feel it run between my fingers. I could bite +minutes and feel the seconds run down my chin. Afterward I couldn't +remember coming. I was lost. + +I don't remember how many times I saw Sella after that, only that they +were never enough and the times between felt like a flourescent dream +from which I wanted to awake. Each time I entered a shady motel room with +Sella felt like balm to a burn wound and each time I came out I felt like +I'd been singed all over and needed the balm worse than before. + +Whatever I did she wanted more. I tied her hair to the top of the bed, +wrapped a rope around her feet, and pulled her taut using the bathroom +doorknob as a pulley. She spread her arms and called it flying through +hell, and asked for more. I had her suck me until her neck was stiff and +her jaws were sore and when I needed time to keep from coming I made her +use that time to suck everything else in the room; table legs, doorknobs, +bathtub fixtures, her own toes. She called it tasting exotic fruit and +asked for more. I used appliances on her; an electric shoe shine machine, +a slow-turning power drill with a sponge bottle washer attached, a wire +attached to a tape-player's LED flashers so that small shocks were +delivered in time to the music. She called it lips of fire and came until +she cried, and asked for more. + +And me? My days were like slow-flying mud and my time with Marian like a +sensory deprivation tank without the hallucinations. I began taking time +off from work to meet Sella. I bought leather outfits from Frederick's, +whips and harnesses from feed stores, new appliances from hardware +stores, liquor by the case, and drugs by the kilo because they all +enhanced the erotic imagination and Sella wanted more. And as she got it +Marian got less and noticed. She also noticed our dwindling bank account +and my decreasing weight. I was getting quite thin and liking it because +I was able to fit into the zipper front leather bikini underwear which +never seems to come in husky sizes. She wondered about the porno films I +rented for posture concepts and the two pack a day cigarette habit I'd +picked up because they enhanced the drugs and were handy for inflicting +controlled burns. She nagged about them all and said she'd think I was +having an affair but I didn't have the look of love. She didn't know much +about the look of lust so she chalked my behavior up to a mid-life +crisis. Unintentional irony is, after all, the hallmark of the uninformed. + +And it was an ironic statement because I was about to face the crisis +that sealed both our fates and many of yours. It began when I met Sella +at the motel we'd been using because it was fairly soundproof and had a +bed that was anchored to the floor. She was dressed in the outfit she'd +worn the first night I whipped her: leather skirt short enough to show +the fasteners on her garter belt, black silk blouse sheer enough to show +her nipple erections. The outfit summoned up a wave of nostalgia in me +and I decided to whip her again just like our first time but this time +she called it old and said it wasn't enough. She sat up, slithered off +the bed, sat at my feet, and said in a pouty little groan, "Ooh, I feel +like such a bad girl tonight. This just isn't enough to hurt it out of +me. I need something special, something very special." + +I asked her what and she told me I had to be in charge, that it wouldn't +do any good for her to think of it. She asked me to go home and think of +something really special and then come back, without phoning in advance, +walk in the room and just do it, whatever it was, just do it. She said +she'd wait there until I came back, even if it was days or even weeks. +That's how bad she needed me to do it. + +On my way home I suddenly realized that God chose to be love instead of +pain because it's so much easier. All you have to do to love is just do +it, just open your arms and passively let it flow. Pain requires +imagination, constant innovation. And that is of course the reason why +humans are only a cheap imitation of God and Satan a very good imitation +of humans. We're all in his image and have a taste for it. But the only +kingdom we can be masters of is the kingdom of pain, which requires +constant thought, which induces fatigue and depression, which causes us +to be tired and pitiable creatures which makes us even easier to love. +You can't win. + +That's the state of mind I was in when I got home to Marian that night +and she started on me about money. The bank statement had come and she +couldn't help but notice the dent my last cocaine buy had put in our +funds. She wanted to know what all that money was for. And, by the way, +why had the latest Frederick's fall catalog come in that day's mail? She +even hinted that I might be a transvestite. I considered it for a minute +but decided that wasn't what Sella had meant by something special. Sella! +What the hell did she want? How far into cruelty could I go without +rounding the bend into love? Then I realized that was it, the most +dangerous thing to Sella of all, a thing so cruel that it stopped just +short of love. I knew what she must want. + +Marian was in my face, literally, leaning in, waving the bank statement +under my nose. I stared blankly at her face and thought of all the times +we'd seen each other through. Hard economic times when we were both still +in school. Hard emotional times when members of our families had died. I +knew I loved her with an intensity just short of hate. Ah hell, what are +we to do about this capacity for cheap imitation? And I was an imitator, +a sincere flatterer, a man in desperate need of something special, +something to keep him from the land of the ordinary. My blood now flowed +too fast for me to go back to being God's navel or the devil's fantasy. I +needed something special to stay king in the kingdom of Sella. I needed +something on the cusp of love and hate. + +Marian was in my face, shouting for my attention, and I gave it to her. I +reached out, hoping she would understand, and put my hands around her +neck, just as an experiment at first, to see if I was on the right track. +Then I started to squeeze. The more I squeezed the more I realized it was +what Sella wanted. They say hanged men die with a hard-on and I knew +strangulation would give Sella the biggest orgasm of her life and that +once she had it there would be no repeating it so she wouldn't want to +live anyway. And without Sella I could never go back to Marian no matter +how much I loved her. I had the power over all of us at that moment and I +took it, rather I thought I took it. Now I can see it took me. An +imitation's not the real thing after all, is it? But once I was squeezing +I kept on, feeling myself emigrate permanently into the realm of +imitation power as I did it. I was still a religious man but then so was +Lucifer. Let me tell all you consumer units who only read parts of the +Bible quoted in the elevator version of Bob Dylan songs that Lucifer was +an angel who became the devil when he decided to be equal to God. He +became a real imitation rather than a fake original. + +After killing Marian I raced to the motel, knowing that Sella would +appreciate it all, that she'd been waiting there for me to kill her. I +could hardly wait to hear her groan with pleasure when I told her. I was +on fire with the thought of finally uniting her and Marian in my hands, +of squeezing my two great loves into one. + +But she wasn't there. All I found was a garter belt lying like a black +corsage on top of a pair of black bikini underwear. A white note lay in +jarring contrast on top of the small pile of nylon. I read the hooked +scrawl: "As you can see I'm not here, and I'm still not wearing any +panties. As you know, witch rhymes with bitch. Now you know I'm one. I'll +leave it up to you to decide whether I'm the other. I know we'll meet +again when you become really special. Until then I'm always yours in +pain. Sella." + +So good-bye, kind world. This is my last note to you, and my only +warning. Like all religious men I know that there is only one sin God +will not forgive and that is the sin of rejecting forgiveness. And sadly, +I reject it because I have discovered that Sella was the bitch and I am +the witch. In using her as a window to the caverns of pain where the fires +of small power burn I cast a spell on myself. Now I sit in those vaginal +halls on a throne of God's excrement beside a river of blood where I +baptize myself daily in dreams of Sella's neck gripped in my hands as I +squeeze in masturbatory pleasure. As she dies maybe the spell will be +broken and I can accept the forgiveness that lies just across the now +impassable membrane where love meets power. + +The problem is though, that to find her I must remember her and I can +only remember her through action. So, just as Marian did, the ones of you +I select will in your final moments become Sella. I will love you as I +loved her and some of you will in those moments find that you love me. +Yes, it's true, you will. Because you are consumer units and each +purchase is nothing but a small and thrilling act of submission, a +voyeur's ticket to the kingdom of pain. + +So as you stare at your televisions each night, know that I am the dark +moon that orbits full behind the piano key grins and the toylike wrecks +of the expendable cars. I'm the darkness in the center of the mother's +whispered douche advice to daughter. I'm here, behind the tube, outside +the window, and around any impulse you might have to leave fake reality +for real imitation. + + I wait for you. + I want you. + I need you. + I Love you. + And, to paraphrase that most romantic of songs: You always love the +one you hurt. + + +(submitted anonymously) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(12/5/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0268.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0268.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..20d661d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0268.txt @@ -0,0 +1,129 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Lesson in Trailer Park Utopia + ------------------------------- + +I got this email forwarded to me the other day about a group of neo-morons +and their new foray into the sometimes sorted world of newsgroups. The +plea follows: + +"A group of NEO-NAZIS are trying to form a newsgroup on +Usenet called "rec.music.white-power", so that they can get their +message of hate out to young people using the Internet. +Newsgroups are public discussions on the Internet and their +formation requires enough support from the Internet community. + +EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US HAS ONE VOTE when it comes +to creating a new Usenet group. I hope you will vote NO and +thereby tell these NAZIS we don't want their stuff on the net." + +As you might suspect, this set me musing. + +The whole thing took me by surprise to some extent. I guess, in the +interest of punctuating any points, knowing what newsgroups are will be +vital. While I'm sure most of you have NO interest in learning any of the +Intergeek things that make up my livelihood, please bear with me for just +a moment for the sake of giving the point continuity. + +Newsgroups are like electronic bulletin boards, spanning more than 20,000 +separate topics. If you have an interest, it is there. + +When you decide on looking at one, you get to read +questions/subjects/statements that other people have posted. To do this +they just write their opinion to the group, and it is posted online for all +to read. Point being, it's like an interactive newsletter for every little +subject in the world. + +Now, the newsgroups are NO stranger to the strange. Perversion, hate, +obsession, depravity, and paranoia has its place here as it does on the +city streets. From 'alt.blow.a.giraffe', to +'alt.korean.elvis.impersonators.will.die', there is that and a plethora more. + +Now, at long last, I get back to my surprise and musing (to the relief of +many, I'm sure). This would not be the first nazi, or hate group, to have +their own newsgroup. Not only are there plenty, but they post to other +groups indiscriminately. You could be in an napkin-folding newsgroup and +find "White Power!" messages at random. + +Yes, it sickens as much as it enrages to see this. Still, there is no way +to stop it. + +If it can be kept off, great. Where these monolithic #%$@!%s got the thumb +to logon is beyond me (guess they learned it from the pediaphiles and +stalkers), but like the rest of us, they are here. Still, I would never +want to see such groups banned. One of the things I do agree with the ACLU +about (man, disagree with them most of the time, but you have GOT to admire +their spunk...) is that free speech must be preserved. + +Still, I think the greatest enigma here is just hate itself. + +I was just having a conversation about these hate-groups yesterday (score +again for synchronicity...). It amazes almost me as much as it disgusts. +'I'm poor white trash with no skills or education, so it must be the jews +fault because THEY'VE got all my money.' + +It always boils down to this. They (insert gender/faith/orientation/race +here), whoever, has worked hard, managed to produce success in some way, +and the mini-minds hate them out of insecurity or inferiority. I'm +financially oppressed by the jew, sexually inferior to the black, +intellectually inferior to the Japanese, et #$%@! al. Get rid of them, +and I'd get all of what's coming to me... + +You have got to tremble at this thought. Let's say it worked. Let's say +we got rid of any group that threatened their little worlds, and now it was +just one big white nation. I can only imagine that they think they would +somehow be able to walk into UCLA, become presidents of banks, and date +models. Yeah, 'Gee thanks guys! I guess it's just us good 'ol white folks +here now! Here, call off your marriage to cousin Eithie and marry my 18 +year-old virgin daughter Courtney instead! + +They have to believe this, or else the reality would be too much to handle. +If it were all to happen, they would still be ignorant, ugly people. + +So what then? Next it would be anyone making over $60K a year, and then +the attractive people who turn them down for dates, or anyone so uppity to +have anything more than a GED. They wouldn't stop till this country was +trailer park coast-to-coast. + +In the end, they'd be at each others throats over septic-tank superiority. + +*sigh* + +Capone +capone@dimensional.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= +(12/6/96) diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0269.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0269.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..de19f03a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0269.txt @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Death of ... + ------------ + + The Internet died over a year and a half ago. There is no one to +blame. Oh yes, many of you would love to point your fingers at NCSA for +creating Mosiac, or at AOL for allowing some of the stupidest beasts known +to this planet on the Internet. We would all love to point the finger, it +makes us feel better for what we have done. You, pointing your finger at +the imagined demons of the destruction, You, who sits at your Windoze +terminal with 2 copies of Netscrape open and Eudorla sucking down your +email. Do not give in to the hypocrisy, it will do you no good. The +Internet as I once knew it is dead. We are now witnessing the rebirth +of a new Internet, a user friendly Internet, just point and click your +way to salvation. + This Internet will be your gateway to a digital heaven where no +one will have to leave their homes for anything. Just open up your web +browser and order a pizza for dinner and go shopping for groceries at the +same time. Your whole house will be a point and click operation. Click, +lights on, Click, door open, Click , preheat to 450. You will sit back and +get fat on your new found technology, you who two years ago thought +computers were for mathematicians and geeks in acounting firms. Oh yes, +you will think you have the world at your fingertips. My gosh, you are so +smart. You have browsing the web down to a science and you can send email +to anyone at the click of a button. Do you know how any of this "neat +stuff" works? Do you know "why" when you click that button your lights in +your house turn on? Do you know how your money is transferred from the +bank to that pizza joint when you ordered that pizza? No. You think you +don't need to. Damn, if it breaks I will just call that computer guy over +here and have him fix it. "Why should I have to know why any of this +stuff does what it should? "There are guys who do this stuff for a living +that make it work perfectly, and if it didn't work right, then they +wouldn't have released it." + + In 10 years you will be hooked into a life support system +connected to the Internet so that the doctor can check your progress while +he is at home spending quality time with his family. You will lie in that +hospital bed, thinking to yourself "I am in the best hands, I am in a +hospital, surrounded by the best doctors in the world, I feel safe." All +of a sudden all the machines in your room stop operating and the IV drip +you have going into your arm speeds up. You try to call out for help but +you can't , there's nobody around. But wait, there is someone with you, +deep inside the humming of the machines that surround you. It's one of +those "computer guys", you know, the ones you called when your mouse +locked up or your screen saver wouldn't work. When they left, you would +always exclaim to yourself "what a geek that guy was, he must have no life." +Guess what, he just turned off the respirator and wrote the words +"Deceased" on your e-medical file. Maybe in your next life you'll realize +how naive you had been about the people who control technology. + + +- tersIan + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0270.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0270.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d43d311b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0270.txt @@ -0,0 +1,81 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Fading Away + ----------- + + Another e-mail sent. The worlds gotten so small since +the day of her untimely demise. The world was so big then, +not any more. It seems that all there is now are shadows cast +from electronic dungeons, wandering over every person. There +are no souls, there is only greed, money, and power. There is +no room for compassion, only stress and lies. The world has +taken a dark turn in my eyes, and the blackness is everywhere. + I'm standing here with a razor clutched in one hand +and blood streaming down my wrists. My eyes are bloodshot and +reflecting in the mirror. But maybe that's not even me in +the mirror, who am I anyway? I remember when things were so +innocent, but I'm not all that innocent anymore. There's a +pair of dark circles around my eyes, and my world is crumbling. +I feel like I'm out on the ocean. As soon as I think I have my +foothold, I slip because a new wave hits me. I topple off into +the ocean. + These nights when I tuck myself into bed I get no +sleep. The demons of the night are everywhere. They haunt +my dreams, they haunt my spirit. Since her death things just +haven't been the same, darkness have invaded. There is no +use trying to get sleep in a tired exsistence. + I think things will be quite a bit better when I'm +gone. No one is going to have to worry about me, think about +me, anything. It's not as if anyone gives me the time of day +anyway now.. In the words of Silverchair, "I'll kill myself +to get my head in the news." + I don't know why my eyes are going woozy. I don't know +why nothing seems to matter anymore. I don't know if it's +my destiny to feel this way, or if I made it this way myself. +All I remember is not being able to say goodbye, I was never +ever good at that anyway. Remember everything when only memory +remains, but I can't remember a damn thing. + The darkness of the night is rolling over me now.. I'm +starting to drop to the floor.. My eyes are closing shut and +my last breath is being exhaled.. But I can't help but feel +that I'm doing the right thing.. For me, and for everyone. It's +better to burn out then to fade away, but I can't help but feel +I'm fading away. + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0271.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0271.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ad1a73a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0271.txt @@ -0,0 +1,142 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + What Are You Really Like? + ------------------------- + + Many times I have been up late on the phone with one random friend or + another, and quite often I get the question (not in these words, but + in the general sense) "What are you really like?" + + Do you want to know what I'm really like? + + If you want to know that, then you'd have to know why. + + And if you want to know why, open your eyes, glue your ass to your chair, + and keep your finger postitioned over that pagedown key. + + --- + + I was the kid who was always picked on. I was the dork who wasn't good + for anything except to make the little Commie 64's work in elementry + school. If i opened my mouth to say ANYTHING, some kid four inches taller + and twenty pounds heavier would come shut it for me. Of course, being the + first kid with braces and zits in the sixth grade helped it along. + + I was the outcast. Me and my friends are outcasts. I see cliques of people + running up and down the street downtown, and i compare them to my group + of friends. We are the outcasts. I the the leader of the outcasts, or so + i've been told. + + But it wasn't always that way. Very rarely was I able to spend time with + my friends. I was grounded for weeks upon weeks. I had privledges taken + away as if they were articles of clothing. Come home five minutes late? + Blam. You lose your computer for a month. + + + Around 7th grade i started running away from home. Frequently. The longest + i stayed away was a week, but it got worse. I could not control my temper. + I got in fights even when i knew i had no chance and got the shit beat out + of me. Didn't matter, i couldn't help it. Eight grade came drugs. Pot was + my personal favorite. Still is. + + I met the first love of my life. The only, it seems. She dumped me so + hard i cried for three days on end. Afterwards i was numb. So numb. I + couldn't feel anything for anyone. And so began the practice of bottling + up my feelings. + + In 9th grade, i dropped acid for the first time. i started seeing life in + a different light. Smoked pot every day. Grades dropped, grounding con- + tinued. I became suicidal and spent my eighth and ninth grade years + slicing my wrists to see the blood. My parents threw me in a inpatient + psychiatry unit for a week, to see if it would get better. I let it get + better just because the people there were worse then me. + + The summer after my ninth grades year, i ran away from home yet + again and moved in when four friends who got me hooked on crank for nearly + two months straight. My real friends i didn't see forever, and when i did, + i was told i looked like a skeleton from so much nose powder and not enough + food. I swear i almost died one night, after smoking a half ounce + with three people, i staggered around the house in a stupor, when my room- + mate told me to take several lines of crank. I passed out for four days and + didn't fully recover for two months. The same night i set the bathroom on + fire and moved out the next day. + + Living back with my parents was hell. Smoked more pot. After two months of + tenth grade, I was tossed into a continuation high school with the types of + people i hate. Gangbangers, violent crack addicts, the works. I started + going crazy there, shaving my head in weird styles, then just completely + off. I hadn't had a girlfriend in two and a half years, and i was still + hating it. + + I don't really remember my full 10th and 11th grade years except that i + dropped out of high school after i finish 10th grade. I smoked so much + pot i became incredibly stupid and forgetful. I bet i would be a l33t h4x0r + if i could remember half the shit i read. It is now the middle of what + would be my 12th grade year. My father gave me money to sign up for the + fall semester several months ago. I took the money and spent it on drugs, + and dropped out of school after three days. It was four months before my + parents found out. + + Here i am now. + + And you want to know what kind of person I am? + + I'll tell you. + + I hate people. I hate confrontations. I hate you. I hate myself. I hate + the people who try to tell me what's best for me. I hate the people who + envy me because of my lifestyle. I will never tell you how i feel, because + i don't want you to know my weaknesses. People used to know, but now they + won't. I will never SHOW you how i feel, because i don't want you making + fun of me. I hate being judged. You will never see the inside of me. I + may tell you in a momemt of softness, but soon my shell will harden and + you will be left to wonder if it's true. It is true, but it amazes you + because i don't seem like the type. I refuse to release my secrets to + anyone. People cannot keep their mouths shut. I have withdrawn from my + family. I can't talk to them anymore, they don't understand. And neither + do you. + + If you want to know the real me, treat me like a person. Treat me like I + have feelings, and i want to be known and loved. Don't make fun of me. + Don't criticize me. If i do or say something stupid, don't laugh at me, + it will only make you one more person i hate. + + All i'm asking is that someone tries to understand me. + + -anonymous. + world through T.Y.M.E. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0272.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0272.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..34f88e31 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0272.txt @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Intimidated By The Sun + ---------------------- + + +Why moon goddess? + +Why does the sun intimidate you? Why do you hide from its +rays in its relative anonymity? Why sister of the planet +Earth, do you hide behind cloaks of darkness? + +Yes, it does hurt. But everything hurts doesn't it Moon +Goddess? Pain is everywhere, it's not central to a specific +being. You feel the pain it feels, everywhere. + +The rays might hit you different then others, in a little +less darkness then before. Perhaps that mirror is casting +some more light into your eyes. One can't be too sure what +exactly they are seeing, maybe they aren't seeing, maybe +they are believing. + +Believe in me Moon Goddess. + +They cast upon the Earth.. shimmering on the lakes.. But +that gives no comfort in the empty vacuum that you know. + +You ponder the meaning of this light.. What does light +have to do with the darkness you know? What are you +contemplating? Why is the pinpoint of blackness inside +of your soul reaching out and manifesting into the physical +dimension? + +Why have you lost your soul? + +There is a darkness in your eye that is pondered not today. + +Your way of thinking astounds me.. Your kindness floods +over me.. But the blackness in your eyes is frightening.. + +Your heart is a million miles away. + +You can't kill the Moon Goddess, she's death itself. + +Your sigh blows out the candle that is your life.. and +you drift away.. slowly.. + + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0273.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0273.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..62723939 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0273.txt @@ -0,0 +1,160 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + They Don't Know Better + ---------------------- + + I met a girl today. Less than 36 hours later I wanted to kill +just about every male in her home town. When I say I want to kill these +people, it is more than an idle threat. If she asked me to, I would. +There is no doubt in my mind that I could, and would, do it. + So what would drive me to that level of hatred and anger, that +desire to rid the world of human lives. That action that could get me +a lifetime in jail, or death to myself. Three seconds of gunfire in return +for years of drawn out legal battles followed by life in a ten by ten +square room. + + I know I have harped on this to my friends and girlfriends in +the past. They are probably tired of me showing my hatred toward this +one thing, but deal with it. There are too many in our society, all +hurting us every day. I know I have been vague enough so you probably +can't guess exactly what it is, but I can assure you, you have most +likely run into it in the past. + Degenerate abusive guys who don't have the first clue about +treating others, especially girls. I'm not talking about the inconsiderate +guys who don't pay attention to their girlfriends/fiances/wives. I +am talking about the most severe kind of loser who mentally and physically +abuses their significant other for whatever reason they have convinced +themselves of. Until recently I thought it was a fairly rare case that +this happened, but the more days that go by, and the more girls I meet, +the more I question that number. Based off what I have seen in the past +few days, there are entire towns with over twenty thousand losers like +this. + + So I'm out of state with a friend, visiting some of her old +friends from her home town. Some of her friends are really good people +and very down to earth. They have no false facades, no fronts to put +up for me or anyone else. They are very modest, truthful, and all victims +of past abusive relationships. My new femme friend is a rare individual. +I think it is a combination of her strong will, sense of individuality, +and desire to do what she sees right. There is only one problem I can +find in her.. her ex-boyfriends. + The second day I was there she awoke to find all four tires of her +car flat. Apparently, while we were at a bar the night before, one of +her ex's didn't like the fact she was with me (or any other male). His +way of showing his continuing love to her was to pop her tires. This is +also not the first time he has gone out of his way to piss her off. + I don't know the circumstances behind everything, but one ex held +a gun to her head, others have physically abused her, one tried to rape her, +one has taken thousands of dollars from her in cash and furniture, and +more. What bothers me the most about all of this is her reaction to +these events. They have become so common in her life, that she thinks it +it is a normal occurance. From what I have heard from her and others, +every female in this backwards town expects some form of abuse or another +during their relationships. + Beyond being completely fucked up, it gets more baffling believe +it or not. Now that she has a non abusive friend (who also has a job, +knows how to clean, is halfway nice, etc), she is actually having a very +hard time coping with it. She is honestly intimidated and scared by our +potential relationship. Why? Because I am not the fucked up, backwards +ass, loser, degenerate abusive boyfriend she is used to. What the fuck.. + + So I am in a town where this is common, and accepted. I look around +at the place and consider the population (36800 or so) and think to myself. +Is this just one town out of thousands with this problem? Or do many +midwestern towns about this size suffer the same thing? If not, then a +full scale surgical military strike on this town is fully warranted. If so, +then I think we have a new national crisis to deal with. Consider the amount +of towns out there like this, multiply to find the total loser count, and +I think you would be quite alarmed. + After meeting a few guys that fall into the above category, I truly +wonder what makes a girl fall for scum like that. I also wonder why girls +let these guys get away with half of the shit they do. Most of the guys +I met have nothing going for them except this macho bravado they throw +around like the presidency. I do understand getting trapped in a relationship +if you are in love, and I do understand it can be hard to leave because +of problems in fear of retribution. I don't understand how it can happen +over and over like clockwork. + + Back to the big guns in loser's faces. What else do they deserve? +Certainly no sympathy or understanding. The only thing I can think fitting +for this situation is death or removal of the ability to function in society. +Why do they deserve it? Because of the basic lack of understanding, respect, +sympathy, compassion, morals, ethics, and everything else that should be +considered when dealing with other people. To consistently treat all girls +(or guys as they case may be) like shit for any reason is wrong. It is along +the same lines as racism, the global hatred or dislike based on one feature +of a person. + Now you may be thinking "chill out dis, this is one girl, one town, +one incident." Wrong. I have seen this in several small towns myself, and +have talked to dozens of females from others that have told me the same +thing. That makes me think it is a nationwide problem; a problem that +can't be solved in this generation. That level of a problem can not be +de-programmed from an individual because of the way we are. Certain +fundamental beliefs that are developed from society and parental influence +can only be masked, suppressed, and sometimes altered on the surface. +Rather than remove the bad beliefs, they can only be slightly changed +at best. + The next step is to hit the next generation at a young age, and +make sure they aren't brought up with the same contempt based on a single +feature like skin color, age, nationality, etc. The problem there lies +in the locality. These people are brought up in small towns often led +by community officials with the same values. They are taught by educators +with the same beliefs. In order to change a younger generation, it would +require an unpolluted environment in which to work. Not going to happen. + + That puts us back to square one. A big problem that has no easy +solution. Much like other problems in today's society, there seems to be +little that can be done. I guess what really bothers me is the common +sense or fundamental lack of respect involved with this. I honestly thought +it was human nature that kept people in check. I thought that hurting +someone like that would make one develop a level of guilt that would +make them seriously reconsider their actions, and possibly stop them from +doing the same thing. + I guess I am different. Maybe that is one thing that bonds me to +my friends and makes me appreciate them so much. Maybe that is also why +I seem to be drawn to the type of girl that isn't used to being treated +right. I wish I could show every single girl in an abusive relationship +that things can be better, and that I know hundreds of guys who know how +to treat women. + + In some cases, I think they simply don't know better. + + +- dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0274.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0274.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3f2a83e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0274.txt @@ -0,0 +1,163 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Legion's Rants + ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +This is a non-canonical list of things I hate and things that I hate slightly +less. Continue at your own risk. + +Things I hate (in no particular order): + +Sports and the idiots who watch them on TV. It's pretty fucking sad to +see a front-page shot of a Broncos running back on a paper that relegates +the US bombing of another mideastern country to page three. Funding for +Denver public schools is so low that students no longer have textbooks they +can take home, making a joke of the word "homework," yet Denver voters +proudly showed where their priorities lay by voting against a tax hike +for schools while voting for a new stadium for the Denver Doncos. + +Stupid people (see also: sports fans). I explain things twice at most. +If you still don't get it, then ask somebody with more patience. + +Abortion protesters (see also: stupid people). According to at least one +of the higher-ups in Operation Rescue, the murder of abortion doctors is +acceptable provided it will "save babies." In this light, I propose the +murder of abortion protesters to save this country's moral integrity. + +Religious idiots (see also: all of the above). I really don't give a shit +*what* you worship. But if you get in my face and try to force me to +worship the same thing, then I'll gladly explain to you why you are: (a) +stupid, (b) delusional, (c) a waste of oxygen, and (d) ill in the head. I'll +also explain why your religion is logically unsound (this goes for any +religion, BTW) and I'll throw in an explanation of how your particular +religion came into existence in the first place. + +Sitcoms. Unless you consider _The Simpsons_ a sitcom, I have never +seen one that made me so much as crack a smile. Each and every one of them +is trite and lame (come to think of it, this describes about 98.21% (this +is an approximation to the exact amount of TV programming I can't stand) of +all television shows). + +Hunters (see also: sports fans). Now don't get me wrong; I have nothing +against hunters *per se*. I just hate the ones who think that they're +manly men for going into the woods with their RVs, cell phones, microwave +dinners, etc. and shooting a deer with a 30-06 from a blind and wearing +odor neutralizers. Real sporting, chimp. Let's see you take on the deer +without a backup supply of food. With a knife. Let's see you survive for +even a single night in the wilderness with only your knife and a sleeping +bag. Why are you so proud of the heads on your wall? Fucking weekend warrior. + +Yuppies. The same people who look at me with disdain the day I wear my +leather jacket will look at me with approval when I wear my wool trenchcoat +and have my laptop with me. Hypocritical scum. + +Cops. Don't take this personally, piggy, but I'm going to start throwing +a party every single time a pig is killed in the line of duty in +Colorado. Have a nice fucking day, and watch your back (or don't, ha ha). +I'll include the Boulder police under this one...the body was in the +basement, you bumbling fuck-ups. How did you manage to miss it the first +time you "searched" the house? Exceptional work, Officer Bong. + +Housing development. A clever euphemism for "kiss your individuality +goodbye, motherfucker." I have an aerial photo of a condo community around +here somewhere...if I find it I'll scan it in and put it up here somewhere. +It's really quite terrifying. + +Bigots (see also: sports fans, stupid people, religious idiots). Racism is +illogical. Homophobia is illogical. Sexism is illogical. "But Legion," you're +probably thinking, "aren't you a hypocrite for writing this after all that +mean stuff you said about cops, not to mention religious people?" No. Cops +aren't cops by nature. Religious people aren't religious by nature. Bigots +aren't bigots by nature. All of those are unnatural things. + +Self-appointed moralists (see also: stupid people, religious idiots). What +business is it of Senator Helms whether I look at pictures of naked women? +In general, if you worry about what other people do in their spare time, +then you have far too much spare time of your own. But just to help the +moralists keep tabs on every instance of turpitude in the country, I propose +that we send them email each and every time we look at "smut" (which +includes, in no particular order: naked women, naked men, bra advertisements, +religious icons, pop stars like Madonna and Elvis, Calvin Klein ads, +congressional hearings, witch burnings, female ministers, book burnings, +women without veils over their faces, The Holy Bible, and anything else deemed +"indecent" by anyone anywhere in the world). I'll end this one on a cheery +note: go fuck yourself (go send that email now; I'll wait). + +Email spammers. Fortunately, there are several cures for this particular +blight (see the "Hunting/Phishing" section of my links page). + +In conclusion, you suck. Don't ask me what I think the weather will be +like; I don't care. Don't ask me if I caught the game last night; I didn't. +Don't try to force your religion down my throat; it's a sham. This section +will be added to as I think of more things I hate. + +Things I hate slightly less than the above: + +Breaking email spammers' servers in half like a calcium-deficient egg. + +Getting away with telling people exactly what I think of them, to their +face, due to my physical size. Note that this doesn't mean that I'm an +asshole, just that wimps who would pick fights with smaller people don't try +to pick them with me. + +Prozac (r). Mmmm, mmm, good. + +Sony Playstation. Currently the leader in world sales of "next generation" +game consoles, and with good reason. Tekken 2 is the best fighting +game I've ever seen (and this is coming from a huge Virtua Fighter 2 fan). +Ganbare Goemon 5 (pronounced "gawnbaray go-ay-moan") is due out soon, along +with several other cool Japanese ports. + +Japanese everything (except food). I love the country and the people (even +though they're all extremely xenophobic), as well as everything produced in +Japan (better games, better electronics, better cars, more interesting +history, etc.), but I don't particularly care for Japanese food. + +Women. Don't ask me why, but I like almost all of the women I know, even +the ones I wouldn't expect myself to like (religious nuts, etc.). Of +course, this sets me up for a fall (due to various incompatibilities) when +I start liking a particular one more than usual. Call me crazy. + +The Internet (r). Even though it's exactly the vast intellectual desert +that people say it is, I love it. Call me crazy. + +Movies. Even though I prefer books, I'll gladly watch a crappy sci-fi +flick. In fact, I think I'll go watch one right now. + + +-Legion + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.LEMMING.COM/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0275.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0275.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e1af5f21 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0275.txt @@ -0,0 +1,103 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Get Lost! + --------- + + I went to the movies last night. Every trailer shown prior to the + start of the movie had a website, complete with a domain name to match + that of the movie. Afterwards, I flew home to San Francisco. I read + the airline magazine. They had a website. In fact, so did almost all + of the advertisers. The subway I took from the airport had a website. + The place I ate dinner at had a website. The bookstore I went to after + dinner had a website. The club I went to had a website. I just found + out that even the fucking Pillsbury Doughboy has a website being + advertised on TV. Can I go anywhere or do anything without having a + URL thrown at me? + + The World Wide Web has become the death of the Internet. Every company + feels it is imperative to have a presence on the web. I mean, + afterall, they have shit they want to sell you. (And I do mean shit!) + And every two-bit loser in the world feels compelled to go to a local + bookstore and buy a book, or three or four of them, named something + along the lines of "Learn to Build a Web Page in 15 Seconds" and then + run home and throw their useless shit onto the Internet. + + But it doesn't stop there. Then all of these people feel it is + absolutely necessary to tell the whole world to come visit their new + creation with a fervor that matches the second coming of the almighty + himself. I just opened my inbox for the first time in several weeks + and found eleven messages along the lines of "Please visit my new web + page." + + So what do I find if I do take them up on their request? Poor design + and layout. Broken links, or nothing but links to other places, like + to their favorite fucking pony web page or something else equally as + lame. Childish animated JAVA applets that were stolen from other lame + pages. No content even worth mentioning. People who haven't taken the + time to keep thier site current. News Flash: Your commitment to a web + site doesn't end after you upload it for the first time! Even worse + are the jerk-off webmasters whose sites say nothing but "PLEASE BUY + SOMETHING FROM ME WITH YOUR CREDIT CARD!" as the whole purpose of + their existence. + + But the biggest complaint I have is that just about everyone who does + build a web site puts NO FUCKING THOUGHT into it before they do upload + it to the Internet. I am reminded of a sentence in a book on HTML I + scanned briefly about two years ago: "Before you build a website, ask + yourself one question: Why?" So simple it is almost poetic. + + So my web site is history. I no longer wish to be associated with the + web and the scores of people who build useless shit and add to an + already horrible bandwidth problem. The web is for children. Go do + something else with your time. Learn something useful. A + recommendation from my current reading list is "Applied Cryptography" + by Bruce Schneier. Read it. Learn it. Master it. And once you do, oh, + but I forgot, you won't. You'll continue typing in URL after URL in a + vain attempt to find something useful on the web. Sure there are some + useful sites out there. But how many versus the whole? When, and if, I + ever find something useful to warrant putting up a web site again, I + will. Until then... + + So, until you close your browser window, you will always be nothing + but a useless piece of shit to society. + + + [INLINE] + people have nothing + better to do! + +- se7en + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = += Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += gote land +27.31.441115 = += Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = += Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = += Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = += Damnation 212.861.0580 Damnation -Toll Free 888.803.8490 = += Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 = += E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = += Dungeon Sys. Inc. 410.263.2258 Psykodelik Images -- Down -- = += Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Black SunShine 513.891.3465 = += underworld_1995.com 514.683.1894 Digital Fallout 516.378.6640 = += PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Bad Trip 615.870.8805 = += Plan 9 716.881.3663 suicidal chaos 718.592.1083 = += Damaged 801.944.7353 The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 = += Purple Hell 806.791.0747 BloodNet 901.872.8615 = += Atrocity Exhibition 905.796.3385 Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 = += The Keg 914.234.9674 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU - /pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0276.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0276.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1ae52966 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0276.txt @@ -0,0 +1,74 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Femme's Philosophy + -------------------- + + Right now my best "frend" is over, pacing around the house talking to +=Stud o' The Week=, paying absolutely no attention to me AND using my +telephone line. Rushing over to ask me if I've read some book as a child +called _The Phantom Tollbooth_, because this guy thinks it's cool if she has. +Wellllll, she never read it, but I have, so I told her parts of the book +to convince him that she read it. hehe.... + But anyway, that leaves me sitting here alone with abstract thoughts +flying around in my head. Thinking of how much I've changed lately, and +more particularly, in the past couple years. I think about it a lot. Do +you ever reminisce about the good old care-free days? When I was younger +I used to imagine myself as older, wonder what I'd be doing, as I sat in +the mud and made mud pies and weed bouquets for Barbie. I never had a +computer and I used to be normal. I guess I still am, to some extent. +Then again, it depends on your idea of "normal." Where did my mother go +wrong??? + Anyway, here I am now. A cyberwhore (yep, I'm femme!) if nothing +else. OK, well maybe not, but do fall hard for guys who talk in 'codes' +instead of cheesy pick-up lines. =P I keep getting side-tracked..... Like +I was saying, I think about change.... I do a lot of things that people +normally wouldn't do (feel free to question me on that), take pretty much +any dare. But it's the way of thinking I've taken on; it's completely +different than it used to be. At times I feel so much more mature than +people my age. + I fear nothing; I like nightmares; I like to dominate. Control. +There is no such thing as control. There is no All-Powerful God who is +in control either. There are too many random acts of tragedy to put much +faith in that. Control is just some concept made up by humans. Much like +the idea of time, just something created.... + I have a major trust problem. This is because damn near everybody +in my life that I put any faith into were "here today, gone tomorrow" types. +Who isn't..? I used to revolve my life around people and put everything I +had into 'frendships' and then one day...CRASH. I realized that not a soul +was around to hear me.. to care. I was really sad about it, I used to cry. +And then I hardened myself and quit crying too. Nothing really makes me +cry anymore. No shock value, I've seen it all. And in high skool I never +really talked to anybody, felt quite detached from them. I was smart, I got +good grades, but I was always picked on for keeping to myself. That never +really changed. But at least now I've learned to deal with it and be +self-sufficient. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of 'frends', but it +sucks because I can't trust a single one of them. Is pain so bad when one +believes in nothing? Take one pain-killer and call me in the morning..... + +OK, time to wreak some havoc on the "frend" using up my phone line.... + + +SkiNFloweR +skinflower@cyberjunkie.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0277.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0277.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..360b6904 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0277.txt @@ -0,0 +1,64 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Nice Dreams + ----------- + +With a din of noise I wake from my long slumber, +Wishing that it would be two hundred hours later instead of now. +I sit up in bed, still surrounded by the feeling of death warmed over, +Still wishing that I could go to back sleep to rid of that feeling. + +But the radio goes on with mindless chatter, +And I get out of bed to start another day. +As I stand in front of the mirror I am reminded of last nights dream, +And I shutter as I try to forget that nightmare plagued me last night. + +I can recall that nightmare in all its frighting entirety, +That the nightmare has forever burned itself into my very soul. +And that it will only remove itself when I have taken my very last breath, +And when darkness silences my eyes forever. + +I can still see the accusing giants standing over me, +Charging me with crimes that are still not clear. +I can still remember falling in the bottomless blackness, +As the howling wind passed my ears. + +I can remember having the thousands of spot lights pointed at me, +And the thousands upon thousands of eyes looking at me. +Of being suspended over a pit of dangerous snakes, +And being slowly lowered into the pit. + +Of seeing the disembodied creatures all around me, +And as they slowly closed in on me. +Or of being surrounded by blazing fire, +And no escape in sight. + +All these visions that I can recall of that terrible dream, +Still dance sickly in my half conscious head. +So as I reach into the sink to splash my face, +I wake to the sound of the mindless chatter of my alarm clock. + + +Sick_Boy + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0278.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0278.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3cfef4f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0278.txt @@ -0,0 +1,72 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + StereoTyping + ------------ + + Since stereotyping is such a big topic now a days with gender appearance +and attitude, I felt the need to rant and rave about it. The biggest comment +I get as a practicing Satanist is, "You don't look like a Satanist.." At +first I was amused by this, but now I am annoyed. I know that we all have +this impression that Satanist are mean looking people that wear all black +all the time and talk in morbid tones. Well, I am not that type of person +and I really don't think that I need to change my apperance to fit the role. +The same goes for the other side, when most people think of Christians they +think of clean cut and never us fowl language. I knew a man that never cut +his hair and wore rags most of the time, yet he was a devout Christian. + + I think that it is human nature to stereotype. People today act as +if it is one of the greatest injustices in the world. In my psychology 102 +class they were fighting about the differences in men and women. The women +saying how men are insensitive and an affectionate, and the men claiming that +the women are over zealous in there attempts at a relationship. This is all +caused by stereotyping. The main reason that we stereotype is that our +brains are attempting to organize chaos, that is why we have dispositions or +feelings about people that we have never met. We register them and then +compare them to past experiences. I think that people that deny that they +do this are lying to themselves. When you see somebody, anybody, walking +down a street you are going to stereotype them and then have a preconceived +notion about them as a person. + + I know that when I see somebody in baggy clothes and a team jersey on +I automatically think "wannabe gang-banger" when in fact they might be +some kid that is attempting to imitate some rapper. I just recently +had an experience that kind of changed my view of blacks for instance. I +am now working closely with a black man, he is intelligent and doesn't talk +in ebonics . We sat down after work and he told me that a lot +of his family and friends claim him to be 'white' because he doesn't +communicate in slang. He said that he use to use slang to fit in, but +learned propper English to be able to communicate with society as a whole. +I found great respect for him because it was almost like he was getting it +on both sides. This one man changed my stereotype of blacks in general. So +it isn't like stereotypes are set in stone and that you will never ever +change your mind. That is why I feel they are so overrated by people. + + I think that people that complain the most about stereotyping are +usually the ones that do it the most themselves. So in essence I wrote +this to say that stereotyping isn't the greatest thing hurting humanity +and that most if not all of us at one time will break the stereotyping +we have of certain sects of people. + +- malloc + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0279.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0279.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d902475b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0279.txt @@ -0,0 +1,142 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + master? + ------- + + Looking at himself in the mirror....reflecting back a stud in +tight black leather pants, a fishnet shirt, and a leather collar with a +silver metal ring. Attached to that ring is a short chain. The chain is +used more for fun and looks than anything else. After this last passing +glance, he's on his way out. + On his way to _The Dungeon_, the premiere bondage club, he ponders +his expectations of the night. Why is he even going? Will he feel like a +poser because he's not really into bondage all that much? Some people +make it a lifestyle; they own a wide array of whips, nipple clamps, +paddles, and other "torturous" toys and use them on a regular basis. Some +couples even go as far as role-playing: That is, the slave/master bit. +The master being called 'top' (dominant) and the slave being called +'bottom' (submissive). + + =-= + + The bondage scene is not very "society-orientated;" most people in +the lifestyle (scene) do not talk about it publicly. And if they do, it's +most likely that they do it more for attention or fashion than getting +actual pleasure out of it. The rumor about bondage is that it is all pain, +pain, pain, and no pleasure. This misrepresents the whole meaning of +bondage; as the majority of people who engage in the act of bondage really +do enjoy it. + There are certain degrees of bondage: one being the type of person +that is very hardcore about it, and actually gets into the painful part of +it. The big question for them is, "What is my partner's pain-threshold?" +These people are quite heavily into flogging, melting hot wax, biting, +nipple clamps with teeth on the end (ends being the part that squeezes the +nipple), small amounts of electric shock, and vigorous paddling. Another +type are the ones who are not into pain at all. They may use handcuffs, +telephone cord for the phreaks, cat-5 cable for the haxors, rope, duct or +electrical tape, gentle biting, ice, hot wax, and whips and paddles as +well, but only teasingly. The last type, where the majority falls in, is a +combination of both. This is where the term "pleasurable pain" comes in. +To clear up confusion, melting candle wax on a partner is both a +pleasurable and painful experience. It's all psychological; if you want +to be pleasured from it, that's the result you'll get. Same goes for +"pain." + + =-= + + As he arrives, he scans the dance floor and checks out the action. +Anything can happen at these kinds of places. He wonders if there are any +computer-literate grrrls in the house tonight. As he's thinking that, he +looks at the beauty and forgets about the brains. Some hot chixors come up +and teasingly tug on his chain. He feels more insecure by the moment. He +watches the action on the stage; there is a big St. Andrew's cross, to +which someone is bound, and getting "the royal treatment." Wow, there are +a lot of seemingly hardcore people here.... He wonders if he is in over +his head when he's getting pulled over to a corner and asked if he's like to +join in the menage de trois. Fr3aKy. + The swirling colorful lights, the loud fast techno music, all the +people, all the blackness..... was overwhelming. He escaped the "friendly" +atmosphere. In the men's room, he looked himself in the eye in the mirror. +He could have fun here, if he would just relax. But he had absolutely no +control here. He just can't get the hang of this whole bondage scene; he +feels so out-of-place and so out of control. He feels so insecure, as he +realizes he isn't into this scene, and that makes him feel that he is *being* +controlled. (No no no, I need to be in a place where i understand the +system and control it). This place was the sort that his mother had +warned him not to go to, for fear of her son coming back corrupted. ;) +Just then, he realized that he is such a poser that he'd better go home +and practice. + He blows goodbye kisses to the grrrlies and goes home, to his +computer. But he does some serious thinking....he wants to break into +this scene. He needs to practice, gain skills, but with who? Brainstorming, +he gets connected and peruses the Yahoo Personal Ads. Ha, here we go, an +innocent sounding grrrl with a wicked website. It's time to practice..... +Sitting and staring at the blank screen momentarily, he is suddenly hit with +exactly what he should write: + + "I'm a 23yo DWM (dominant white male) Sadist + 5'10" 180# w/medium length black hair, and blue eyes. + I have a B.A. in Cinema and I presently work in the + construction trade. I was involved in a six yr. BDSM + (bondage/S&M) relationship when I was in the Philippines. + I would still be in that relationship, but my slave got her + stupid ass arrested. From the tone of your post, I would + be pleased to correspond with you. You seem like + a sub who will require an extremely short leash. + I enjoy that. To give you a preview of some of + the discipline you will endure under my ministra- + tion. I have extensive experience in the use of + flogs, paddles, crops, bamboo canes, switch,cat + belt etc. U will know crucifixion, mummification, + suspension, and sensory deprivation. I will use + hot wax, ice, and nipple clamps on your nipples + and bound breasts. Ropes,chains,cuffs,tape, + gags etc.will be used on your squirmming body. + Toys of various shapes and sizes will invade + your dripping cunt and puckered ass. There will + be days, when you disobey me, that you have + so many cloths pins and surgical clamps on your + sweat drenched body that you will be certain of + your impending madness. You will experience heart + pounding fear, bone chilling pain, and mind + numbing ecstasy in the same breath. And + that's when you'll know that you are truly mine. + My masochist submissive.....my slave. If this + is the relationship that you need, e-mail me + and we will discuss it. But be advised, I am a + strict Master. And if you disobey me, these + things WILL happen to you. E-mail to: + nimbus38@mychoice.net " + +.....and he hit the send button. For a split second, he could imagine +himself doing these things and felt he had control over the "scene" as +well...... *hmph* a few more letters like this and he will be master. + + =-= + + *this "scene" can be fun, but is not for everyone* + +SkiNFloweR +skinflower@cyberjunkie.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0280.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0280.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ef598873 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0280.txt @@ -0,0 +1,113 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Inner Turmoil + ------------- + +"Why do we, crucify ourselves, every day..." + + It's the opposite of writer's block, but equally as bad. I sit here + alone in my bed trying to express what I am thinking. I have this + sudden need and desire to tell the world exactly what is on my + mind, what is coursing through my veins. But I can't. It's always + the not so comfortable thoughts like these that end up plagueing + me. + +"My pain.. is self chosen..." + + I sit here with my laptop on the pillow, head touching wrist, eyes + closed. Can't see anything right now and quite frankly don't want + to. Sleep sounds so much better with each passing thought. Don't + know whats up with me but something really has me in a bind. My + mind gives my body a list of things to do, but they don't get + executed. + +"No one should brave that underworld alone..." + + I guess now is the best time for things to be like this. Not only + are my thoughts really jacked up, but a good friend is going + through a really hard time in his life. A time where he faces + losing his girlfriend and daughter.. maybe for days, months, or not + at all. You just can't tell with the court system today. + +"That old dog has chained you up alright..." + + Other friends are seeking me out for advice on various matters, + most of which I am not qualified to lead on. One friend is having + problems with a girl he is interested in. Another has a problem but + I have no idea what its about. Dozens of people mail me a day + asking me for technical advice on just about everything. Why me? + I can't be that qualified to answer all this. Especially the + advice on girls and life. + +"Tongue tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit.. I.." + + The thing bothering me is more frustrating than it has ever been. I + think it stems from the fact that even I don't know what I want. + Since I can't figure it out as far as my own thoughts are + concerned, how am I supposed to be able to guess what someone + else's thinking? That leaves me with way too much time to ponder my + dilemna before I will get the answer I am looking for. Doesn't + really matter what the answer is, just the fact that the answer + looms around the corner. + +"No you can't take that away from me..." + + No matter what happens in my life, I keep getting the feeling that + no one really understands me. Like everyone else, I have my world + of problems but I can't talk about them because it seems like + no one else comprehends. Or maybe they don't want to. The more I + think about it the more I wonder if they even realize it. My + inner turmoil has been with me for so long, I wonder if I disguise + it, or wear it so openly that my friends don't even notice it. + +"Hold onto nothing, as fast as you can..." + + I know things will work themselves out, but I always worry if they + will do so in an orderly fashion. Part of my anal retentive nature + or some other ancient curse on me. Twenty three years of survival + tell me things will right themselves. + +"I don't mean to pick you apart you see..." + + What to do until then? Figure out what I want at this point in + my life. After talking to a friend tonight, I find out others + out there are unsure of what they want. Why the indecision? Why + the lack of focus or direction? There must be some underlying + desire for a new perspective on life. Or maybe a need for a little + action out of life. + +"I've got enough guilt to start my own religion..." + + Until I have clarity of thought, I can only hold on to the things + I have. My castle, my work, my hobbies. Solace of music, escape + of movies, and freedom to do. My handful of friends, wishful + thinking, and vision of daily monotony. Anger, content, guilt, + and comfort. + + damn. + + dis. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0281.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0281.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c298004b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0281.txt @@ -0,0 +1,69 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + What are you going to do? Shoot me? + ------------------------------------ + + It seems that more and more when I get into a disagreement with someone +about something and they always have to say "What are you going to +do? Shoot me?" I know then that the discussion is going nowhere. I own a +gun, a 9mm Baretta. People seem to have this image from a movie that when +somebody disagrees with a person with a gun they get shot. I am not someone +that carries a gun with me all the time and it isn't like I illegally have it. +I own it and have registered it with the government. I do carry it on me when +I know I will be out late or driving in a certain part of town. I am not a +gun fanatic or someone that has to have a gun to feel secure. Still whenever +anyone anywhere gets in an argument with me about the smallest thing they +always say "What are you going to do? Shoot me?" + + This really gets annoying and seems to be a cheap shot of sorts. I have +never threatened anyone with a gun nor have I even pulled it in self defense. +It is added security when I know that I will be out late or in a bad side of +town. If I was to get into a fight or any other physical confrontation I can +handle myself with out a gun. Now whenever anyone says or mentions my gun as +a way of myself being a man I think of how uncomfortable it must be for them +to know that I own a firearm. I think that the media in our society portrays +people that own guns as either gang bangers or people that need to resort to +violence as a mean to solve their difficulties. It seems now society sees +gun owners as people that are outcasts, it seems almost like an elite +social crime to own a gun. + + It is also perceived that peoples own fear of being shot plays a roll in +this as well. They believe by saying this to me that I won't shoot them +because they do not fear me. I know that this is reading into the way that +people think, but when you hear a comment so many times you must wonder to +yourself "Why does he keep saying this." I know that most likely this FUCK +file will not be published because of the editor, but I know that this is +something that I needed to get off of my chest. People need to learn that not +everyone that owns a gun will go nuts and then shoot anyone that has ever +disagreed with them. A gun, like pepper spray is a method of self-defense, +it can be used to be an offensive weapon. The first thing they teach you when +you buy your gun is "Don't point it at someone unless you intend on using it." +I think that people that have this complex against regular people like myself +having a gun needs to learn what that phrase means, not "What are you going to +do? Shoot me?" + + +- malloc + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0282.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0282.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a85f38e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0282.txt @@ -0,0 +1,114 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Being Heard Hurts + ----------------- + +Expressing oneself is a dying art. No longer is it encouraged +by the powers that be. No longer it is sought-after by the +educational process. No longer is it the predominate goal of +all of our country. Why has this goal been dismissed from our +thoughts? Simple, no one wants to think for themselves because +they are all too lazy and dedicated to the one minded logic of +the masses. What is this new goal that is clouding our social, +political, and economical future? The new goal to be achieved +by one and all is very dangerous to free thought, the goal +I am talking about is Conformity. How can you hope to escape +from the barriers? Read on. + +Nonconformity is looked down upon for the most part. +Many think of nonconformists as hairy eyed anarchists +who have plans to slaughter millions and massacre the +government. It is just another piece of the systems +bullshit. There are legendary nonconformists in a place +that you wouldn't even expect to see them, in the +history of the United States of America. + +Where can I find this information you ask? Look no +further than the War that revolutionized the entire +world. The War for Independence. I will relate this tale +to you, though I am sure you've heard it countless times. +But I ask you to listen with an open mind, and to sink +in the feeling that the nonconformist viewpoint on certain +subjects can make the world a better place for all of us. + +Many early Americans were by definition nonconformists. +They would not allow their minds to be oppressed by following +the tyrannical rule of Great Britain. For these actions, +they were punished. But did they simple give up their hopes, +dreams, and goals? No! They fought back, kicking and screaming, +and they were liberated. After the war, these Americans put +their will power to the test. They grappled the task of +controlling a nation, and they succeeded. Today that nation +has risen to become one of the worlds superpowers. + +How does this effect the discussion at hand? Think of +it this way. If a group of rebels can change the world, +why can you not change your surroundings? Surely, by thinking +for yourself, expressing your views, and having a clear +goal in mind, you will be able to. No one will be able +to hold back the real you. They will not be able to +judge you, you will be the ultimate wielder of power in +your life. + +But DropComm, you say, isn't the system going to slam me +into the ground for this? Most likely. Then, why do you +advise me to do this? For your own good. How can this be +for my own good if it's just going to get me into trouble, +you ponder. I reply indignantly, feeble minded human, this +process is not meant to land you in unnecessary anguish, +it is meant to make you learn about yourself, and the +options that are available that you were to blinded to +see before. You will become the all-powerful person in +your existence. You will not rely on others views to +contort your ideas. You, perhaps for the first time in +your life, will be free. + +If you are having trouble launching your plan to be free +from an intellectual jail, then I have some suggestions for +you. Write down some promises to yourself and come through +with them. In time, you will feel a tinge of responsibility, +and it will grow. You will know the truth, that if you put +your mind and will power towards a goal, that you will achieve +it. I believe that you will feel quite gratified by this +should you carry through with it. + +Once you are free from lies and false realities, nothing +can touch you. You will control everything that happens +to you. You will no longer need to rely on others to do +everything for you, you will be renovating yourself. You +will know that nothing can stop you from achieving anything +that your heart desires. + +This journey will not be easy. It will not take a short +period of time to complete. There are many things that +you will learn on your adventure. Perhaps one of the most +important is that there is no progress without struggle. +But the one I believe to be most important is, that all +of this will pay off. And one final thing to remember, +in the immortalized words of Bob Marley, everything is +going to be alright. + +-DropComm + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0283.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0283.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..397f9e60 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0283.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Can't Fight the Seether + ----------------------- + + Blood curdling madness. Then helplessness. Then revenge. +That's my thesis. + + Sitting in class, feet up on the desk...letting my mind seethe. +Thoughts keep drifting back to my own private madness. Every time I get +to thinking about it, my anger is refreshed. I sit there just staring +off into space, occasionally crash-landing back into reality, and tuning +out and seeing red again. + OK, you're wondering what the hell I'm so pissed about. Well +this file began as a result of someone invading my privacy. By "invasion +of privacy," I mean that my eMails are being read and my files are +disappearing, then reappearing. Also, my password happens to come up as +invalid at irregular intervals. At first I thought my ISP was to blame. I +don't know what I think of this. Half of me is impressed. Impressed that +anyone would bother taking the time to annoy me. Impressed that my account +has been haxored. A silly thing to be impressed with, yes, but...I was. +The other half of me was m a d. Mad because I could not dial-up, check +the mail, play in unix, or practice writing and compiling more c0des (I'm +learning C++; that is equivalent to another women driver). It was taking +my baby from me. But I was stung most by the fact that mail I sent was no +longer private. Excerpts from letters I wrote could be stolen and show up +anywhere. Things I said could be twisted around and come back to haunt +me. The main thing I phear about having my mail read is somebody might +figure me out after reading them. I am stubborn about giving people the +chance to get to know "the real me." Recently, someone said: + + "It is very difficult to sort through all the layers of + reality that aren't really reality to get to the real + Skinflower. And you never know when you're at the + center of the Tootsie Roll Pop. Each layer of reality + looks just as real as the last. And they are all so + very unreal." + +I thought it was a great analogy; comparing me to a Tootsie Roll Pop, heh. +I should just shut up about it, since seemingly harmless pranks like these +are expected from the g33ks in the scene. But I'm femme, and I won't shut +up. + My initial reaction was fear. Don't ask why - I thought I had +eliminated that emotion ("i'm baaack..."). My heart pounded momentarily. +But only momentarily; the next minute I wanted to choke something. My dog +was nearest so I choked her (just kidding, just kidding!). My mind was +racing though. Damn it, I was in a position where I couldn't do anything. +Hmmm...I don't think I am too good at expressing my thoughts. I listen to +music pretty much most of the day. Sitting at the computer most of my life +(or so it seems), with a plethora of industrial bands pounding their music +inside me. So, to better express myself, I can say I thought screeching +keyboards and the beat of a drum machine looping at 10,000 beats per second +("kill kill kill"). + A couple days and a hundred rejected ideas later, I have resigned to +the fact that somebody was able to ruffle my feathers (er, petals). :) I'm +much more subdued about the situation, but it is nowhere near forgotten. +I've almost gotten over the initial rage; I can joke sarcastically about +it. With my wry smile and icy eyes, I find comfort in pushing myself +along at maximum speed towards my goal: revenge. I always get revenge. +Sometimes the opportunity falls into my lap, other times I have to play it +like a chess game ("time to pay the piper..."). I don't put up with any +kind of shit. So I'm biding my time thinking skippy little bass beats and +ambient guitar. + But my mind never sleeps, and, snakelike, I will strike when I know +I have a dead-sure shot. I am not all-consumed with revenge; I have a +life to live and will go on with it full force. But what goes around comes +around baby...... + + +- SkiNFloweR + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0284.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0284.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..05c4d4c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0284.txt @@ -0,0 +1,70 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Dialogue of Eyes + ---------------- + + Typical 50's diner, upbeat staff, lazy Sunday afternoon. John and +I are sitting there with drinks only, lunch a few hours in our past. He is +learning Russian in between sips of lemonade, trying to keep an eye on the +room. No more lemonade, only water and 62 pages left in the Russian +picture book. + Here I sit with a whirlwind in my mind and a feeling of uneasiness +all about. Twenty four hours of history behind the trepidation, a full +day that doesn't need to be spoken of. I fancy myself somewhat of a casual +writer but I can't write what's on my mind, let alone sift through the +disorder of my mind. We all know what's up, just a matter of us breaking +through the fear and admitting the obvious. Mostly because our subsconscience +hides our true desire. + She is catching me staring at her more than I am catching her +returning the favor. I say favor because of the mutual interest that is +readily apparent. Why her? Last night I was sipping my diet coke when I +couldn't stop myself from drawing a comparison. Her facial features are that +of the women in Michael Parkes artwork. His work is slightly exaggerated +as most art is. She has those features and they speak volumes in a sense. +Despite the appearance of youth, the look tries to conceal a subtle wisdom +that derives the naivete' inherent in age. + It's always dangerous making snap judgements about the intelligence +or wisdom of someone. If you expect one thing and find another, you typically +hold it against the person even though it is your own build up that caused +the dissapointment. She is avoiding that routine by having one of her +co-workers check me out, talk to me, size me up, and if needed, rake me over +the coals. I don't have that option. Even a casual inquiry will get back +to her faster than I get the answer. Why is it so awkward to start a +conversation? Or a relationship for that matter? + Been thinking recently, of just about everything under the moon. +I have my castle, my son, my hobby, my library, my army. Translated: +my apartment, my cat, my computers, my books, my friends. The only thing I +need or want is a queen to share my wealth. Nothing serious really, just +someone that actually cares, can show a slice of understanding, and +someone that simply enjoys my company. + Of course, you will never see the real file, as it is handwritten +on a yellow pad. The black ink barely forming words because of the general +slopiness of my handwriting. Part of it because I only type any more and +never have a chance to write. The other lending factor is my nervousness. +I can't express my desire for us to meet. + + Maybe another day... + +.dis. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0285.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0285.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fe0f0c74 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0285.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Love in Vein + ~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +Hi. You might remember my whiny FUCK file from a while back in which I +wrote about a woman I loved but who turned out to be Queen Bitch of the +Universe. I can recall feelings of nervousness mixed with abject fear, +self-pity, and low self-esteem in the days before I opened up to her. I +was so nauseous that I couldn't eat for literally days at a time. In +short, I had a major depressive episode -- all before I even talked to +her. This came about mainly because I knew her well, had known her for +years, and didn't want to jeopardize the friendship (which, as it +happens, meant more to me than it did to her). When I did open up to +her, I found that my fears were true -- she didn't feel the same way. +Additionally, she ended the friendship not long after when I made the +mistake of mailing her a letter; she was paranoid (this observation was +made by people other than myself, so no clouded judgment here :) and +believed I was stalking her, so she threatened to file harassment +charges if I ever contacted her again. So I stepped back and +re-evaluated her as a potential partner, and discovered that she was, in +fact, nowhere near what I think I want in a woman. + +This all occurred before last November. I've been feeling like shit over +it for almost the entire time, but no more. Now I truly understand the +meaning of such cliches as, "there are plenty of fish in the sea" and, +"the worst thing she can do is say no" (not true in my case, but...). A +few months ago I asked my shrink (don't ask) how a person like me who +doesn't drink can meet people. She couldn't come up with any quick +suggestions, but I think I've found a nice solution. A couple of weeks +ago, Disorder took me and some TACD & PLA doodz to a dance club, where I +saw perfect strangers dancing and hanging out together after exchanging +a few words. As this was my first time in a club, I was amazed. The +music was great and the women were great looking. Thanks to Dis, I've +found a way to meet people without fear of rejection (if one doesn't +want to dance, hey, I'll move on to the next :). + +By a nice coincidence, the club Dis introduced me to was the one which a +friend of mine had told me I should go to. This was back in December, +when I was still feeling like shit over the last woman, so it didn't +occur to me that when my friend said, out of the blue, "why don't you +ever go to the Wreck Room?" -- and then told me I should go sometime -- +that she may have been asking me to go with her. Earlier this week she +and I flirted a bit...when I told her we went on a Saturday, she said +that I should go on Sunday instead, as that's when she's there. After +she said this several times, I responded that she would have to take me +there sometime and teach me to dance. We dropped it there, but she +smiled at me the rest of the day. As it happens, I chickened out on +asking her to go this weekend, but I think I'll show up anyway and dance +with her if she's there. + +Since Dis is probably sick of getting rambling, abstract submissions +from me, I'll try to get a moral in here. For those of you who, like +myself, have never had a long-lasting or serious relationship (my +brother, who is gay, has had more girlfriends than I have. Digest that +one), I would advise you to not fixate on one person. As stupid as it +sounds, there ARE plenty of fish in the sea. I worried about getting one +woman so much that it became the only goal in my life (but not so much +that I stalked and killed her *), and that's what fucked +me up so much when I talked to her. With this one I think I can +truthfully say that it will be no great loss if she doesn't go for me. +There were several fish at the club on Saturday. Comparatively speaking, +though, she's a far better match for me than the last one (who was a +Catholic (I hate religion), a heavy drinker, and not particularly +smart). This may sound like I'm dumping on her, but those are the facts +that I couldn't see while I was blinded by the love in my blood. + +I'm making a fresh start this weekend. Wish me luck. + + +-Legion + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0286.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0286.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b0a0e355 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0286.txt @@ -0,0 +1,78 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Lost and Found + -------------- + + I sit here alone on the balcony of a not unfamiliar apartment but +one I have been accustomed to for less then the length of time it has taken +me to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes (yes I was trying to quit at the +time but you get my point). As I listen to the cars passing by and the +omnipresent breeze carrying its song, and its winged passengers to wherever +it is that birds go at this time of the year I am reminded, reminded of my +constant displacement no matter the environment (quite the contrary to my +apparent complacency to be any given place at any given time). This has been +an ongoing battle in my head since I was about sixteen years of age, forced +to face the world alone as a young man, a boy. Given the total lack of +stability I had at the beginning of this long tiring journey of mine my +total lack of stability at present doesn't bother me as one would expect, or +does it? + + I've moved from the balcony into the computer room to continue +this rant not because I don't like the outdoors, but because I find +that I can type much faster and more legible than I can write these days. +Another casualty of technology I guess. + + This trek I have unknowingly embarked upon has taken me to over +twelve states in this country and several brief visits to a corrupted +land far south of where I am now. In all these places I have heard the +passing cars I hear now, and the same breeze blows whether it be from the +north, south, east, or west. I guess what I'm really trying to say is +that no matter where you go you never really leave where you were. The +same instability is there, the same people are there with only faces that +change. Sure no two people are alike but no two people are really that +different either, there are good people, there are bad people, there are +people you really wouldn't bother pissing on if they were on fire. Most +importantly of all you are there, the same person you have always been. +Maybe you have changed some things about yourself but you cannot escape +from your true self. I don't know if this is what I was trying to do but I +know now its of no use. + + In looking at my present surroundings I think I have found a +location I would like to stay at for a while. The opportunity is here, +there are people I like to be around here, even the view in certain +places is quite majestic. Granted it does get rather cold at times but +hey, you cant have everything. I know it will take some time for me to +settle into a place of my own but I think its time for me to stop moving. +I have heard my constant movement about the country referred to as "running" +and "hiding", but I think of it more as living, and learning. I have +learned a great many things from a great many people, much of which would +be considered trivial to most people because they take the world in which +they live in for granted. I have laid my head on concrete and I have laid +my head on the pillows of thousand dollar a night hotels. Its still my +head. + + +zens + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0287.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0287.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f170c9dc --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0287.txt @@ -0,0 +1,228 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + me and a gun + ------------ + +When I was seven or eight years old, there was a kid in my neighborhood +that received his fair share of abuse from the others. He was real +small, a little younger than I am, and feisty as hell. We often wondered +if he liked the abuse since he continually asked for it in his own +way. I don't recall all of the events but one day he decided to strike +out at those around him for his previous punishment. Some of my friends +and I were playing behind some of the condos when he came toward us +brandishing a knife. It was apparent he took the foot long butcher +knife from his kitchen, but the size alone made us think about things. +He only chased me swinging wildly for about five minutes, but it left +a mark on me for a long time. + +Many parts of my childhood are a blur by choice. I can't remember exactly +how old I was at the time, must have been twelve or thirteen years old. +The local bullie was a boy named scotty. Everyone in the neighborhood +knew he was a mean spirited boy with way too much anger in him. His family +was a good model of why he ended up that way. When police showed to their +door for a noise complaint they sicked dogs on the two cops.. after being +asked to put the shotgun away. scotty had this thing where he liked to +pick on me more than others for his own reasons. + +I remember looking for one of my cats who had been missing for days. It +was a nice day out and I had hurried over to where someone saw my cat. +Going barefoot didn't bother me since I was fairly used to it. Didn't find +the cat but ran across scotty. As soon as he saw me the fire in his +eyes consumed him and he began to chase me. My only thought was to go +straight for my house since that was the only place that could guarantee +my safety. Damn he was a fast runner. I had speed on him as well as a good +25 yard head start. The first half mile was no problem as I stayed ahead +of him only occasionally looking back to check the distance. His persistance +was admirable as he kept chasing me. Trouble hit me after that first half +as I couldn't run on the grass any more. I was forced to run on a small +dirt field littered with tiny jagged rocks. Each step sent bolts of pain +up my legs and I felt the rocks digging into my feet. Something in my +mind must have reminded me that the pain he offered would be worse than +the rocks. I did make it home finally, and avoided a fight. + +In the south you run across stacks of hay bails in developed neighborhoods. +It is commonly used for putting around tree beds, in areas where grass +is soon to grow, etc. Often times there would be hundreds of the bails +stacked in different parts of the neighborhood, and as usual, would become +a sort of playground for everyone. Not only could we jump around and play +on them, but we could move them about and make our forts and our castles. +After a while of playing on one of these stacks, some friends and I had +left a sort of 'well' in the stack. After my friend Rob left to go home +for a minute, scotty showed up out of nowhere. That all to familiar look +crossed his eyes and he approached me quickly. There wasn't a chance in +hell of me running or getting away from him so I took my punishment. Rather +than hit me for a while he decided to shove me face first into this 'well' +and watch me try to get out. It took a while with him kicking the sides +of the hay in. + +Three months passed before the next major episode with Scotty. A few +friends and myself were swimming in the pool at the clubhouse enjoying +the cool water on a typically hot day. Low and behold, Scotty shows +up for a swim. I was treading in about six feet of water when he +dove in and swam toward me. (Remember, I was much smaller then.) +I watched him swim past me underwater, and thought he would do just that. +Instead, I found myself being pulled underwater suddenly. When your +mind panics, it is hard to keep track of time or anything around you +as you struggle for air. I have no idea how long I was under, just that +my lungs burned in a way I never knew. I guess I either struggled enough +to get free or he voluntarily released me. I came up out of the water +gasping for air but feeling more discouraged than before. Not a single +one of the thirty people around the pool had bothered to help. Only +to stare at me in amazement. + +Years passed before my curse returned. I lived in New Mexico at the time, +in a very nice neighborhood. As it often happens there are always a few +bad apples in every place. The local bad apple happened to be an extremely +violent kid. It was his nature to lie and steal any chance he got. We +all became used to it and began to expect it. Because of his attitude +and lack of intelligence he was often being corrected on just about +everything he said. Because of his lies, he was always being questioned +about his sources. At times when he was caught in one of his bigger lies, +he would often try to intimidate everyone into believing him even though +he knew it never worked. One night we were all playing basketball when +this kid (Neil) decided he would try to pass a big lie on. Almost an +hour later he was really upset because no one would believe him so he +tried starting fights with each of us, one by one. Neil chose the +wrong person eventually and my friend Marc smacked the hell out of him. +As soon as this happened I had a feeling Neil would do something rash +in return. After being hit he turned and headed into the garage we were +near, as I feared, in search of a weapon. My first instinct was to protect +my friends so I ran back to my garage in search of something to deter +Neil from his course of action. I returned to the court holding a pair +of dowel rods ready to defend. I had played around with fighting +'Florantine' (fighting with 2 hands and 2 weapons) and felt I could +at least stop him. Neil emerged from the garage brandishing a pretty +big knife and headed towards my friend Marc seemingly unaware of my +presence. Seeing the new threat he took one more step toward me and +demanded I leave him alone. My reply was surprisingly calm and smooth +as I told him I could not do that. He threw the knife at me instead. +All I remember after that is deflecting the knife with one of my dowels +and asking him to leave. + +College life was decent. I kept to myself usually and made a point to +avoid contact with others. I just didn't like dealing with other people +at that point in my life. One day on the way back from some place or +another I pulled up to a stoplight a few blocks from my dorm. I sat +there at the wheel looking forward waiting for the light to change. +Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and i glanced +over to the vehicle next to me. I did a doubletake and turned a little +farther to watch the guy in the jeep next to me yelling and screaming.. +at me. I know that I hadn't done anything as far as cutting him off or +messing with him on the road. He sat there half banging on his window +yelling and cussing at me. The light changed and I drove on thinking +it was over. But he followed me. I didn't want to deal with this whole +thing so I sped up and headed to the dorm parking lot as quick as possible. +Luckily he underestimated the speed of my little Escort and I got to the +parking lot before he did. I managed to pull in and duck into an empty +slot while he was making one of the turns. I ducked down and he passed me +without event. + +I had just logged off the internet and sat back in my dorm room thinking +of what to do next. My friend Chad walked in the room and shut the door +behind him as he usually did. We sat there and talked about some unimportant +issue or another and decided to watch a movie that night. I think I +remember some noise outside the door, then quiet, then a knock. I went to +the door and Chad looked around the corner to see who was there. A turn +of the knob revealed a person holding a large revolver, aiming it at my +head. The first thing I thought about was who held the gun, in this case +a guy from a few doors down. I had never really liked him, but we had +maybe traded half a dozen words since he lived there. Second thing that +went through my mind was why, and that is something I still question to +this day. The third thing was to duck, and I did that. It was only a +split second after I realized the gun was there that I found myself slamming +the door shut while diving into the corner. Likewise, Chad had jumped back +around the corner looking for cover and then something to fight back +with. We sat there behind closed door wondering what would come next. +Ten minutes later I checked the door and he was gone, back to his room +apparently. + +Over three years passed before the next situation. A large group of our +friends (several F.U.C.K. writers included BTW) were hanging out at +a bar in downtown Denver. It had been a fun night of drinking, pool, +darts, and playing on computers (yes, the bar had them). Voyager +and I were verbally jousting when he called me a name. Unfortunately +it had bigger effects on a fairly small guy near us. The guy jumped up +and got in Voy's face yelling at him for using the word 'nigger' even +though it wasn't in the formal context, and it wasn't directed at him. +Voy kept explaining that it was a) none of his business b) not going +to be apologized for c) futile to argue with him. While this went on +one of the guy's friends kept back and put his hand in his back pocket. +Out came the switchblade ready for action. Major and I stood behind the +friend with the knife and waited for him to try to move. Major had his +9mm on his back and he kept a hand near. Things difused by themselves +and we kept enjoying the night.. until we left. We had all walked back +to the cars and were waiting there for something or another. Major dropped +his gun off in the car while he and Voy went a block over to check something +out. Twenty minutes later Voy and Major returned from getting jumped +by *8* guys, all lead by the original guy who instigated things. Even +though they held their own and fought the guys off, things would have +gone a lot better had Major kept his gun on him. They weren't looking +for trouble.. just more booze. + +Since then it has been a steady barrage of minor situations. Nothing +too big or bad, but equally annoying and somewhat unerving. For a while +I wondered why I was the target of seemingly random abuse. It took me +a while to remember a few times in the past where I had done it, or +friends had done it. One time sticks out in my mind above others. A +good friend in college who was just like a big brother, a sensai, and +best friend all in one once lost it in front of me. He was a very calm +and very disciplined guy, one that never let anything bother him. +We were driving on the campus near the soccer fields in my little car. +Both of us sat there listening to the music enjoying the beautiful +day. With no warning, my friend Shawn turned to his right and yelled +at the top of his lungs, "You fucking whore". His anger was directed +toward some girl walking the opposite direction. The look of terror +on her face indicated that she heard his scream of rage. I sat there +in disbelief for a minute before I asked who that was and where he +knew her from. The look on his face was that of a timid mouse, as +if he was scared of his own shadow. "I don't know why I did that." +After that incident I thought to myself: "If my 'sensai' can lose +it like that, anyone can." + +Today, when I leave the house I carry a Rueger P89 9mm with a high +capacity clip full of hollow points. It is rare that I leave the +house without it somewhere in my possession. Instead of carrying +it on my body, I usually have it in a bag which is close to me. +I like having the gun for the basic protection it offers me. I know +it won't help me in some situations, but it will in others. And +'good' odds are better than 'no' odds. I can't begin to explain the +security it gives me knowing that if needed, I can protect my friends +and family if a situation arises. That means the world to me.. always +has, and always will. My friends are my friends and that is the final +word. Nothing you or anyone else says to me will make me lose some +of the ability to protect them. + + =-= + +Don't ask why, but i have recently found the need to rationalize why +I carry a gun. Not justification for my discomfort, but for someone +else's. And since I respect their opinion, I want to be able to do +that.. this was it. I guess people can also see some similar traits +between Voyager and myself now that I look back at this file. Think +what you will... + +.dis. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0288.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0288.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cc3a7804 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0288.txt @@ -0,0 +1,176 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Death Wish 93 + ------------- + +Some call it the "hard road" and others know it as the road of ugly +head-on fatalities. We are talking about Highway 93 which extends +from Phoenix, Arizona up through Montana and into the great white +north--Canada. The stops, much less cities, are few and far +between with much of the route two lanes. + +It's January 9th, 1996 and in a few moments I'll be leaving Las +Vegas where I spent a few days exploring what the Winter Consumer +Electronics Show had to offer. My trip has lasted a little more +than a week, taking me from my home near Fort Lauderdale, Florida +to this "city of sin." I've put about 3500 miles on my car (yes, I +drove) and burned quite a bit of rubber off my Bridgestone RE71's. +So far the only casualties we've suffered, besides sickness, has +been some damage to my bumper when I hit a high curb while parking +my car in Zion National Park--be sure to watch the curb near the +River Walk trail. + +Michael, my accomplice, is from Berlin, Germany and is someone I +met over the internet. He is the only person interested in going +with me on this drive to Las Vegas. I guess I can see why now--it +has been a tough ride with lots of 12 hour driving days and minimal +stops. Michael didn't talk very much on the trip which make it +tougher on me. Thank goodness I brought a lot of CDs and tapes. + +I fucked up a turn on the airport road which I hoped Michael would +help me navigate so I ended up dropping him off at arrivals. He +got nervous cause all the doors said EXIT and wanted me to take him +to departures. I told him I might get lost again and that his best +bet was to enter the exit and find his check in area. + +Once Michael made it inside I took off. After about a week of +traveling together I was actually glad to see him go. The +communication gap or Michael's silence annoyed me. Sometimes +talking to him was like talking to an invisible friend except if +you were really lucky your invisible friend would talk back. + +It is still dark as I attempt to make my way out of the city. With +no city map I take a guess at the road which should take me out of +the city. After questioning my judgment for several miles I decide +I better stop at a gas station and ask for direction. The gas +attendant tells me I should continue on the road I am taking and I +will make it to the highway I am searching for. I drive a few +miles and begin to question the directions but finally see the +highway. + +Within a couple hours I make it to my first stop--Kingman, Arizona. +I gas up and decide to stop at a tire shop to have my tires +rotated. The front tires (140 traction) are almost slicks on the +side and down to the "time to replace nub" on the center grooves. +The back tires are wearing thin too but have enough tread to make +the rotation worthwhile. + +I'm heading east on I-40 towards my Highway 93 turn off doing about +75-80mph and notice the tire rotation has actually provided me with +a smoother ride. The tire shop only performed a rotation not a +balance; definitely a good decision that will make the remaining +2500 miles go a bit easier. + +My decision for taking Highway 93 is so I can take a different +route home instead of I40. I could take I40 east to I17 and take +I17 south to I10 but looking at the map that would take about an +hour or two longer. Highway 93 looked to be the smart choice plus +with the extra time I could stop by another national park. + +I make my turn on Highway 93 and realize not only that the speed +limit is less but it seems to be a limitless two lane highway not +as sparsely driven as I had hoped. Oh well, at least the +occasional passing lane will make the ride easier. + +I do my best to maintain about 70mph on the road even though there +is a posted 55mph limit. Sure I'm speeding but how many cops are +going to be watching cars out in the middle of the Arizona desert? + +The long stretches of land with few oncoming vehicles allowe me to +pass a lot of the initial backlog of trucks and campers. Sometimes +a third lane shows up and I use it, other times I pass when it +clear. + +Then the inevitable happens. I caught up to a truck, a camper, and +a car doing the speed limit (55mph) and sometimes slowing down to +45-50mph. Taking a quick peek tells me all three vehicles are too +close together to pass one at a time so if I want to pass it is +going to be all or nothing. Or, as a last result, I could wait for +a passing lane. Behind these vehicles time seems to stop. Tick, +Tick. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours. The +road is not clearing and there are not any passing lane in sight. +My frustration builds. Then, dead ahead I see my chance. It is a +passing lane but for the oncoming traffic. I looked ahead and see +no one using the passing lane so I decided my chance to pass is +now. + +I downshift and pass the first car and truck in fourth with no +problem. I notice oncoming traffic in the other lane but no one +using the passing lane so I am still safe to finish the pass. +About another half mile or maybe more of the passing lane remains. +It is hard to tell. I do know that traffic is approaching so I +better get moving. I shift to fifth and am doing about 80 but +barely passing the camper. Is that fucker speeding up or is the +slight hill holding me back I wonder. Oncoming traffic is very +close now with a semi in the lead. The hill is getting closer and +my time is running out; I'm now doing 85. + +All of the sudden a cold sweat starts to come over my body as I +watch the semi and oncoming traffic approach. I see my passing +lane end up ahead and now head is starting to feel strange like all +my blood is racing for my head. I'm starting to tingle, my head +feels fat, I'm sweating and my body is cold. I pull out of the +passing lane to complete the pass at the same moment the semi pulls +into the expanded lane (lane right of the passing lane). I finish +the pass doing 85mph--thirty miles over the speed limit. + +Still, it wasn't fast enough for me. The tingling sensation starts +to go away as I slow down and come to my senses. Those last few +seconds felt like all the blood in my body went directly to my +head. I can't describe it much better than that though it is not a +pleasurable feeling but more of an extreme fear feeling--not +something I care to experience again anytime soon. It was like my +body knew death was a possibility and pumped as much blood to the +brain to preserve it as long as possible in the case of an +accident. + +In the miles that followed the close call I was extremely +frightened and became really pissed with my stupidity after I saw +"our" passing only a mile after passing the three vehicles. The +next hour or so on Highway 93 I kept shaking my head (no) wondering +how I come I'm so fucking impatient and why I pulled a stupid stunt +like that (using the other vehicles lane to pass even though it is +legal). + +The rest of my trip I kept thinking this is a sign. I've been +given a new life or at least the opportunity to finish the old and +start living the "new life." During the days and months that +followed I slowly forgot about Highway 93 and my close call and my +life went back to normal. + +Looking back I wonder if it taught me a lesson. Maybe all it +taught me was I should have a more powerful car as one with 145 +horses is not enough. Or maybe I was just lucky that day and I +shouldn't try to think anything otherwise. Perhaps it is me but +something tells me it was more than luck that kept me alive. I try +to ask "why" but there is no response. I ask what is my destiny +and why was I spared. I look for meaning but all I get is silence. + +My new life is just my old life painted with one more stripe. I'm +the same person with another experience, that of a death wish on +the hard road of life. + +Looking for reason, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0289.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0289.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..411b33f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0289.txt @@ -0,0 +1,70 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Waiting + ----------- + + I feel very alone. All around me is darkness, but not in +the heart or the soul, for in those places, she exists. She is +with me now, maybe not physically, but I can feel her presence. +Right now, thoughts of her plague my head. I cannot rid myself of +my visions of her, I fear that I might love her. + + But how can I love someone I've never met face to face? +How can I love someone who I'm not always there for, who I don't +have all the answers to give to? I don't know. I just know that +right now I miss her so bad that my stomach is turned in knots, +and that I feel that I need to speak with her now. Right now. + + The waiting for the time in which I can speak to her +again just is not fair. These days I may not be so happy, I +still feel sad when I'm all alone. I hate her father. That +asshole forced her off of the phone, for no reason. Oh, he has +important business. Fuck business. + + I don't know what's wrong with me. I normally don't +care about people that much. But right in this very instant, +my mind is so caught up in her that I can't even think straight. +I really just want to be with her, but I know it is not possible. +Some say love is expressed in unattachment, I think they are a +bunch of liars. I'm too attached. + + I wonder what she is doing right now. I can imagine +that she is sleeping soundly in her room, even as the glow +of my monitor is cast over my face. My thoughts wander off +to why I can't be with her, and why the world isn't so small +when you love someone. Life isn't fair, it never is. Not +in matters of wanting, of needing someone, who just is so +far away. Maybe I just have to let go. + + I'm sick of waiting. Very fucking sick. I should've +told her I love her. Maybe I'll never get the chance to again. +Who knows, the world is so messed up. Right now, I don't know +if I can make it through tonight without her. Right now, I +feel worthless. Right now, I want her by me. Right now, I +want to tell her I love her. Right now, I'm so gone. + +-DropComm + +: dedicated to Rach in Maine. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0290.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0290.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e0e094ef --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0290.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Fortunato's Logic + ----------------- + +When I think back to the injustice they served me, +Only rage and sadness come to my heart and mind. +What they did to me is inexcusable and can only be met with vengeance, +But not the kind that fast and painless, +That would be too easy. + +What I plan to do them is so ingenious, so vile, and so simple. +I will show them that I am not one to be toyed with. +And that when my vengeance unfolds I will prove that they are nothing more, +Nothing more than hypocritical, two-faced, and above all simple minded. Which +will hurt more than a bullet ever would. + +It enrages me to know that they have gotten away, +Away with this injustice against me. +It also angers me to know that they have gotten away with this injustice, +For so long and no one has noticed. +But that will all change. + +I am not insane, but after being abused by their "sense of humor" all these +years, Who would be? +No, I am just fed up with them and their actions and I am going to deal with +them, In a way that will harm only the two thing they hold dear, +Their pride and their pity will be destroyed. + +See I know I am not insane, +Because insane people do not think, they act. +And I think before I act, so I am not crazy.. just smart. +Another fact is crazy people are locked up for a reason, +And they are forced to wear a white dinner jacket for a reason. +When my revenge unfolds they will be locked up, +And they will be forced to wear white dinner jackets. + +You see I am justified in my vendetta against them, +For I have bore there insults and been the brunt of their jokes. +So vengeance is mine alone, +And I will carry it. +What fun I shall have when it is done. + +Even though my plan for revenge are expertly laid out there is a problem, +For without it I could be well on my to what is mine. +I am sort of embarrassed to talk about this small problem, But it must be +said to help me carry it out. Could you please remove my straight jacket! + +Sick_boy + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0291.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0291.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1d9a93a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0291.txt @@ -0,0 +1,101 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Security is Obscure + ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +"Obscure (adj.): [...] 4. Not famous or well-known. 5. Difficult to +understand." -- _The American Heritage Dictionary_, 2nd ed., 1983. + +Okay, so it's an old dictionary. But the meaning of the word "obscure" +really hasn't changed much in the last decade. + +I wanted to write this file as a word of encouragement to beginning +hackers who think everything has already been done and security +everywhere is tighter than the pope's ass (but not the alterboy's, ha +ha). I intend to illustrate the base ignorance of many system +administrators who know less about unix than the average hobo does. + +Security is obscure in the sense of the first meaning I quoted; most +*.edu systems have admins who haven't got the slightest clue as to how +they can secure their system, as well as letting their users (recall that +the weakest link in any "secure" system is usually the people who use it) +choose poor passwords. Thus, if Joe Admin sets up a system and restricts +access to dial-up and computer labs, Joe Hacker will still be able to get +in using Joe User's password ("sex") and a modem. + +One case I wanted to mention specifically in this file happened over the +course of the past few weeks. I requested and received a copy of an +unnamed school's passwd file from an unnamed source (you know who you +are. Thanks again!) after he told me that it was unshadowed and +world readable. I ran jack on it using a few wordlists before I +found out that the passwd binary forced users to use non-dictionary +passwords. Then, because I was bored and needed to brush up on my C +knowledge (very little, actually), I whipped up a program to output all +possible 8-character printable password combinations. After some quick +calculations, I discovered that I would need at least 6,500 9-gig Seagate +drives and several decades to store all the combinations and use them +with jack. Discouraged, I dropped the matter for a while. + +Then a co-worker asked me to step her through the "reading email" +process on her account, which happened to be on the system in question. An +account she had never used. One with the default password still in place. + +I helped her log in and incidentally discovered that default student +passwords on this particular system were the first 8 digits of the +social security number. I also found that the .login script *didn't +force first-time users to change their password*! I guided her through +the "changing your password" stage and was astounded to find that this +poor-security system forced users to use non-dictionary passwords but +wasn't set up to force an initial password change. + +I let it sit for about a week before I got around to modifying my +program to output combinations of 8-digit numeric combinations. After +further trimming it down to output only the combinations beginning with +521, 522, 523, 524, and 525 (CO-issued SSNs) (the "full" output would +take about 110 megs), I had a 5-meg wordlist file that has netted me +over 60 accounts from this system. These accounts were snagged over a +total period of about 10 hours or so, and I used my very limited SSN +list. Imagine how many I would have if I used the "full" SSN output and +gave jack a few weeks. + +The second definition of "obscurity" that I quoted does not seem to +apply at first; most people who work with computers have some +understanding of security, and admins should be especially aware of +security issues. Yet I have found and continue to find just the opposite, +nearly every day. This is why you should use PGP and SSH; why should you +trust your admin to secure his system? If you have faith in his sysadmin +skills but I have reason to believe otherwise, then you'll be the one +who loses when I start hanging out in your home directory. + +As an addendum to this file, I'm including "Things overheard while scanning +cell frequencies". I started it as a separate file, but I don't have nearly +enough: + +"Oh shit, I just ran a red light." +"People can listen to cellular conversations with one of them hand-held +walkie-talkies." + +-Legion + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0292.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0292.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..62cad651 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0292.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Talking Cure + ---------------- + + I've done it again. Blood is so warm and vibrant, and long +sleeves are in fashion. I made the phone call, but I'm not into +it. Personally, blabbing about my inner hell to a paid stranger +feels like a failure. Teenage angst has evolved into adult illness, +but who am I to complain? There are thousands out there like me, +thousands who write poetry about their writhing souls and the +emptiness therein. + + I guess you think things change. You kind of go along in +a happy daze until you realize that your personal demons have +been whispering to you, cutting through the daze like a dull knife. +Suddenly, you notice that they have been cutting at you for +months, and that they have already won. I acquiesced. It is easier +that way. You see, everyone has demons. You have them. Your parents +have them. Your partner has them. But the demons wear different +costumes for different people and some have more demons than others. + + So I'm off to see the Wizard of Id, Ego, and SuperEgo. +I doubt he'll work any magic for me. You see, I don't trust anyone +anymore. I have learned that the only way others can endure the +gaggle of imps that follow me is to disguise them as angels, or +something even more frightening than angels. Then they will run +away. But I have learned that I can never be me again. I learned this +lesson a final time about 3 months ago, and there is no turning +back. To be raw, exposed, emotionally naked - these are things I +can no longer enjoy because I arouse fear in others. It is time +for my mask, and my wall, to return. Suddenly I will transform +into The Picture of Normality, and only I will know who I truly +am. + + You see, that's what The Talking Cure is for. It doesn't +matter that I know what he is going to say. They use a fierce and +honest logic that I know better than my own, but somehow the +predictability gets you back in the Habit of Being Emotionally +Well. I guess life is merely the process of answering your own +questions, and the Wizard can help you pretend that your questions +are normal. They like to talk about spectrums of normality, and +they paste you onto the spectrum somewhere in the normal range +just so you can feel guilty about seeking help when the Abnormal +need it much more than you do. They smile quietly and tell you +that you are ok, and that all you have to do is put things into +perspective. They direct your sessions and make notes on yellow +pads, and you can see your life outlined neatly between the cage +of those thin blue lines. They write numbers on your insurance +claims, and, if you look them up in the Big Blue Book, you will +see your problems explained in thinly disguised clinical terms. +Borderline Personality Disorder. Clinical Depression. Bipolar +Disorder. They ask questions incessantly. Biting questions, the +kind that make you buy tissues before your next session. And then +you write them a big check, and you have to smile knowing that +you are essentially paying someone to be your best friend. Yet +all of this is worth it, somehow. It is easier to label yourself +with Mental Illness, because then you can hide behind it forever. + + My friends think I am crazy. I know I am. + + +Palpable Obscure. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0293.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0293.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c8e676fe --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0293.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Because I'm Alive + ----------------- + + "I'm Not a Trendy Asshole + do what i want + do what i feel like + I'm not a trendy asshole + dont Give a fuck if its not good + enuf for you. + Becuase I'm Alive" + + - The Offspring "Smash" + + + Well there you have it. Probably one of the most true and meaningfull +things a band has ever said. "Because i'm alive." I found one of my old tape +mixes from a few years ago, and i was playing it just for fun. And when i got +to this, it just suddenly hit me how much we need to make it a part of our +lives. + Society today says "why cant we all be equal" and "originallity +creates racism","blah blah" etc. It seems like our country is trying to +crush all of what makes us who we are. + Schools say "hmm how can we make all our students feel equal?" so +they introduce dress codes, codes of conduct and crappy uniforms to make us +all feel the same. Things like that decrease morals, and incite rebellions. +But the rebellions are getting fewer and fewer. People start to say "who +really cares its just clothes." Next thing you know, the whole country will +be clockwork, everything running the same, everyone equally rich and equally +sucsessfull. Were all being herded in the same direction, the same way. + My school started off as being more or less "democratic." Students +got opinions on school issuses, activities, what subjects they picked, what +they wore , etc. Then, the school decided to change the "student" council +into a "teacher" concill. Slowly, things that we had a say in deteriorated. +Our school introduced the "morally corect dresscode". In other words, no +shirts with "swears" or things promoting sex, beer, drugs, or cigarettes. No +hats, no ripped jeans, no shirts showing "shoulders" for girls , etc. + Everyone complained, and the principle's answer was "this will make +us all more equal and appreciative of eachother". What a bunch of BULL. +And the sad part is, people say "eh, who really cares, we'll do what they +want". There letting society controll them. and therir hopelessly lost. + So in my school, i go against the "laws". I wear ripped jeans, and a +hat. And when they say "you can't wear that or we'll call your parents", i +say "call my parents, their sensible enough to realize your crushing our +spirits". Then the teachers get a worried look in their eyes. "Could he +possibly be showing uniqueness?!?" so they send me to the principle, who +more or less tells me to "stop spreading my individualism". + I was ready to follow him home and blow up his house. "Stop spreading +my indidualism?!?!" My principle is just another example of someone who wants +to end human civilization, by crushing all our originality. + We must rebell against these factors that try to make us all like +them. If it risks suspension, punishment, etc, don't be afraid to speak out. +Our country's basis is freedom of speech, and thats one thing that they can't +take away from us. + The population worries about being killed by a nuclear war, famine, +and other such problems our earth faces today. But global problems aren't +whats going to destroy us, but our lack as seeing our selves as Us, living +individuals. If We think that were are all one unit, instead of 6 billion +living, breathing, individual units, we will wither away. + + We will not go quite into the night.. + +- Rabies + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0294.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0294.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6bbac228 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0294.txt @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Void + -------- + +Nowhere is the only place +In which we safely show our face; +The public calls it cyberspace +To us, it is our home. + +Faceless names, pseudonyms, +Hiding under an alias dim, +On the edge, the digital rim, +Together yet all alone. + +Empowered oligarchies great, +Breeding violence and utter hate; +Maybe yet it's not too late +To bring them to atone. + +Communcation, that's the way, +The information of the day, +Freedom to do and to say +Whatever there is known. + +The politics we care not, +Government rule may well rot, +And not leave one passing thought +Of the anarchy that has grown. + +Now off to improve hacking skill, +Sharpened by the bit-byte drill, +Charge it on another's bill, +Hey! Pick up your phone! + +"Hello, this is AT&T network security...." + + +Todd Vierling, 17 June 1995 +(formerly) Disk Jockey of Warped Reality + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0295.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0295.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..aa98d9fe --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0295.txt @@ -0,0 +1,152 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Out of the Closet + ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +(For Aurelius: I never knew you, but you were one of us.) + + +I'm writing this file for a few reasons. One of them is that just about +everybody in 303 (and 970) who's on IRC knows I hang out in #depression. +Another is that several people probably know I wrote the "anonymous" FUCK +file concerning suicide some time ago (mailed from a hacked account on my +school's mainframe; there are only two other people in the scene who +attend the school in question). The main reason I am writing this, though, +is because I want to shed some light on things that people--even those who +have clinical depression--might not realize yet. + +I am currently on 40mg of Prozac per day. I've been informed by my +psychiatrist that I will have to maintain this level or higher of the drug +in my bloodstream every single day for at least five more years in order to +get the seratonin levels in my brain back to some semblance of normality. +Seratonin is a neurotransmitter, which is a substance in the brain that +helps send electrical impulses across the synapses. In most people who are +diagnosed as clinically depressed, the brain abosorbs excess seratonin +too quickly, which lowers the amount of synaptic activity associated +with seratonin, which gives rise to a host of symptoms associated with +depression: excessive crying, sleeping disorders, eating disorders, +fatigue, feelings of hopelessness, and suicidal inclination. This is my +understanding of clinical depression, which I've been studying first- +hand for 25 years now. I'd appreciate any comments or corrections to +this information. + +That is the medical side of clinical depression, which does nothing to +explain how depressed people actually *feel*. I hope I can give you a +sense of what we feel nearly every day of our lives. + +Hello. My name is Steve. I was diagnosed with clinical depression +(commonly known as major depression) in 1992. I was diagnosed at Baylife +Acute Care Center in Florida, where I checked myself in for suicide +intervention after slicing my forearms with a knife. I was started on +Prozac in the hospital and they kept me for two weeks against my +will--when I found out that they wanted to keep me, I tried to leave, +but Florida state law requires crisis units to hold suicide risks for a +minimum of one or two weeks. + +Since my visit to Chez Baylife, I've had several more "episodes" of +depression, that usually end in me going to a shrink and doing whatever +I can to stay alive. One of the things I do to get the pain out of me is +to externalize it; I'm what's known colloquially as a "cutter," or +formally as a "self-harmer." When the hell of everyday life begins to +hurt me too much inside, I slice myself with a knife I keep at my desk. +I sharpen the knife often with a diamond sharpener, and it is literally +sharp enough to shave with--if you look closely at the insides of my +forearms, you'll notice that there is no hair on them for a width of +about half an inch on each side of the veins. my upper arms (usually +hidden under t-shirt sleeves) are masses of scars both new and old, and +they aren't something I'm particularly proud of. Kids, don't try this at +home. It's not "cool" to be a cutter, it's just a way to get the pain +out. + +I recently met someone from the hacking scene on irc who is also a +cutter. He was surprised when I told him that I was a cutter; he didn't +think anybody else did it besides him. So this is written in part as a +nod to him and to inform other cutters who might read this that you are +not alone. + +"Hope is an illusion" is a topic I set on #depression every so often, +and most of the time that's how I view life. I've learned not to accept +hope because every time I do, something happens to remove that hope, and +another part of me dies with it. Depression has been likened to a dark +cloud over the mind, but I feel it more as a crushing weight that I must +carry every day. + +Sometimes I go without eating for three or four days at a time, and +sometimes I deprive myself of a full night's sleep just so that I can +*feel* something, anything. This is also another reason why I slice my +arms; I want to know if I am still capable of feeling. Sometimes I can feel +the physical pain and sometimes I can't. The mental and emotional pain are +always with me, though. + +I've had a traumatic past. I'm not ready to write about much of it yet, and +I don't think I'll ever be ready, but there it is. I don't try to use my +childhood as an excuse for my behavior, but sometimes it's hard not to +wonder if it contributed something to my depression. Most of the seratonin +problems I have are hereditary, but hey, you never know. I grew up in an +extremely violent environment. I've been held hostage by a man with a 30-06 +who raped my stepmother in my presence. That "man" was my father back when +alcohol had changed him into a demon. He shows none of the deadly traits he +used to since he stopped drinking six years ago, but he still has a +tendency to smash things (fortunately not people anymore) up when he's +angry. I firmly believe that this country created his dangerous side during +the Vietnam War, in which soldiers were encouraged to stay drunk and high +so that they wouldn't question their country's involvement in Vietnam, and +were sanctioned by Uncle Sam to fire upon anything that moved. + +This is the part I can write about my past; other events involving other +people still haunt me to this day, and I still can't write about them. + +I often see people on #depression talking about how they had the gun to +their head/knife to their veins/etc. but "didn't have the courage to end +it." This is a misconception I'd like cleared up right now. It takes far +more strength and courage to live on in the unceasing hell of a +depressive's life. At the same time, I do not scorn suicide as "the +coward's way out"; it is a means of escape as surely as are booze and +drugs. And if everyday life is hell, the only thing I would fear from a +Christian notion of hell would be the absence of my friends, who at least +make life bearable. + +Those of you who know me personally should not take this file as a hint to +watch what you say around me or anything of the sort. Many friends and +family members of clinically depressed people feel that they have to +tiptoe around issues of depression, but that's not the case. An admission +of clinical depression is also not a play for sympathy, because it's +something that is fairly hard to do in the first place. I know people who +have been fired because they were depressed, which is a violation of the +Americans with Disabilities Act, but employers get away with it anyway. +An admission of suicidal feelings is something that should be taken +seriously, because generally the person admitting to these feelings is +asking for help. + +When people I know on irc started doing a "whois" on me they saw +#depression and popped in to see what I was doing there. At one point this +alarmed me so much that I changed the channel's mode to +s (secret, so it +won't show up in a whois). One of the other regular ops immediately +switched it back to -s and said, "no secrets." I agree now. No secrets. + + +(Aurelius, a #depression regular, ended his life on February 28, 1997.) + +-Legion + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0296.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0296.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..41cf87cb --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0296.txt @@ -0,0 +1,183 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Red Casino + ---------- + + + + "What's your name?" Yelled a deep damanding voice through +the small hole in the large metalic door. + "Mr. O." Replied the tall skanky man with dark brown hair. +His cheep ugly three piece suit almost made you want to shoot +him right there. + "What's the password O?" Questioned the man behind the +door useing a more relaxed voice this time. + "Orange Sidewalk." Convincingly replied the sickining man. + "Alright, Come on in." Grunted the death butler. As the +door opens you can see a glimpse of the man, he reminds you a +lot of Mike Tyson. You quickly make a mental note that what +you are about to do had better work or you will probably be +dead within the next two minutes. + + "What's your name?" He yelled, almost sounding annoyed. + "Mr. T." You say in a calm, almost chilling voice. + "Well what's the password T?" He asks, trying to play a +tough guy. + "Orange Sidewalk." As the words leave your mouth you can +hear the door man shiver from your voice. + "You may enter." This time he almost sounded polite. You +turn around before entering. Good, no more visitors. + + As you exit the hallway, the Casino opens up for you. +Nothing catches your eye as being unique. Just the usual sight +one would see in a private Casino. Poker, 21, Roulette, and +Craps. Two tables for each game. Most of the people are hung +around the second craps table. Someone must be winning it big. +You see the same ammount of whores you would normaly see in a +place like this. About two for every lucky winner. Only a +handful of women are actually gambling. Their husbands must +have died recently. + You walk over towards the first Roulette table. There are +about ten people hanging around it already. Of those ten, +three women are hanging around three of the guys. You quickly +look down at the table. Two of those men have what appears to +be $500,000 total bet on black. The other has about $50,000 on +00 and about $140,000 on red. The other two men at the table +are not even worth mentioning. + "New bet," you quitely say as you take the last seat at +the end of the table. You say it just loud enough for everyone +at the table to hear what you have said, but not loud enough +for anyone to have taken a notice to you. You pull out +$10,000, the minimum bet, and place it on red. It is such a +small ammount that no one pays any attention to you. + "All bets final." Says the man behind the wheel as if he +were hosting an auction. He spins the roulette wheel like a +professional. He then tosses a silver metal ball on the +outside of the wheel, it rolls in the oposite direction that +the wheel is turning. The ball falls onto the spaces, and +after hopping around for ten seconds it drops on a red space. +The number of the square is completely irrelavent. + After Mr. Auctionier announces the space he gives you and +the man sitting next to you, wearing a white suit and some +blond slut, your winnings. You notice her sad attempt at a +sexy smile. The two men who had bet on black are now swearing +and yelling. As the two men walk away, you hear one crying as +he exists the Casino. That is a very lucky man. The other one +walks over to one of the Poker tables. On his way over he +turns to the woman that was strung out on him a second ago and +mentions something about being better at poker. The other +women transfers herself to the second Craps table you noticed +on your way in. + A new man in a bizzare green outfit replaces the seat of +Mr. Super-Poker-Man and says "New bet," in the best used car +sales man impression he could conjure. You don't take notice +to what he betted on, it doesn't matter to you at all. You +collect all your money from the table. + "Are you through sir?" the spinner says in the most +whiny suck-up voice you have heard all day. You are going to +enjoy this. + "No. I will be finished when there are no more black +spaces on the wheel," you reply to him, giving him a cold +glare. He returns the look with a face of complete confusion. +His face then disolves into utter happiness when you remove a +five inch stack of $100 bills from the inside of your trench +coat and toss them onto red. The bills spread across the +betting space completely covering it. You feel a stare. +Looking over your right shoulder you notice the bimbo grinning +at you. She imediately turns her head away completely losing +her smile after you produce the coldest stare you posibly can. + "Very well indeed. All bets final," he says in his most +chearful voice yet. + Once again he tosses the ball onto the wheel. Bouncing +past reds, black, and even green the ball reflects a ceiling +light into your eye. The wheel slows down and you can already +see where it is going to land. Everything is going exactly how +you planned it. Confirming your wishes the silver ball +finally rests on a black space. You can hear sighs from +everyone at the table except for that bitch standing next to +you, she just seems to snicker at you, she will be second. + "I am sorry sir. Are you going to continue in the game?" +He questions you as though you have money flying out your +britches. + "Yes. I have one final bet I would like to make." As your +words fall silent and the seven bodies around you grow quiet +and still, they await to see the next ammount of money you +will pull from your coat. Reaching in you feel the coldness of +what you were looking for. You pull out a silver and bronze +object no bigger than the silver ball that was just spinning +around the roulette wheel. You take a look at your watch. + "Red!" you shout as you toss it into the air so that it +will land on the wheel. As everyone is watching the bullet, +tryin to determine what it is, no one notices you pull out +your two black 9mms. You put the first one just far enough +away from the sluts head so that she won't know it is there. +The second one you point directly at Mr. Auctionieer. As the +bullet lands on the wheel, you see it on red. + "I win." You calmly say as you fire one of the guns at +the annoying bastard behind the wheel. Before his body starts +falling onto the wheel you fire the other gun so that the +whores head explodes into a red flaming mess. You then shoot +the next man in line, he would have had the unfortunate +opportunity of having to sleep with that cunt you just blew +away. You point the other gun towards the entrance expecting +the guard to have responded to the shootings by now. He +doesn't get more than two steeps before blood fills his eyes +from the newly formed hole in his forehead. + After that it doesn't matter who is next. You just start +plugging away. Not one bullet is wasted. Everytime you pull +the trigger on your nine someone dies. You only have to reload +a couple times, which doesn't matter anyways because no one +even knows where you are even if they wanted to attack you. +There was just too much chaos going on, and you are loving +every minute of it, until everyone is apparently dead. + You take another look down at your watch and notice that +only five minues have passed. Grabbing your money off the table +you notice that the blood of the roulette spinner has filled +all the spaces on the wheel. + "They are all red now, and I am finished," you laugh to +yourself. + On your way out you notice that Mr. O, the man who +entered right before you, is crying in a corner of the Casino. +You look around for anyone else, but see no one left alive. +Although you would love to splatter blood all over his ugly +face you remember the promise you made to yourself. He looks +up at you. + "Please...... Don't shoot me!!" He cries to you. + "I won't," are your final words as you continue your +pursuit to the exit of the Casino. As you pass him by you take +a white card out of your coat and toss it on the ground in +front of him. Making your way outside you go to your black +Honda just down the street. Before entering you take out the +fake money in your coat and throw it around the street, +screaming the most evil laugh you have ever been able to +create. + + Back at the Casino Mr. O finally gets enough courage to +look down at the white card you had tossed in front of him. +Picking the card up in his shaking hand he makes out the words +"Mr. Tricko" + + +Rage-303.tr + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0297.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0297.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b873e626 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0297.txt @@ -0,0 +1,73 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Imagine the Possibilities + ------------------------- + + Imagine the possibilities. Enter a world where a +person's creative thought is not diminished by a teaching +establishment that does not really promote learning. Open +your eye's to a whole new world, where students provide +their own motivation, and teachers can spend more time +focusing on the subject matter at hand. Imagine the +possibilities of a world of information, a world of pure +freedom for the mind. In such a place, the possibilities +would be simply endless, a place without barriers. + There are many students who do not feel academically +challenged with school. For that reason, they are likely to +slack off and humdrum through many of their classes, for no +other reason then pure boredom. They are likely to achieve +adequate grades, but not grades that are equal to their +mental competency. Imagine a world where these students +minds were challenged, perhaps for the first time in their +life. A world where the students creative thought is not +only looked upon as significant, but is openly endorsed. +Enter a world where doing something innovating is as +important as following an academic tradition. + Many teachers complain that they are unable to +properly motivate their students. Imagine the possibilities +that could exist if students could motivate themselves. +An existence where they would strive for academic and +social excellence, and achieve it. In this place, students +would possess the sole power to guide their futures. And +as such, if they were not motivated, they would achieve +nothing. + Today the idea of a world of information is +becoming a reality. No longer is the mind restricted +to the purely physical. Due to scientific breakthroughs +with communications technologies, the mind can expand its +barriers to encompass more every day. Envision a world where +information holds the key to success, and it is sought after. +In such a world, skin color, nationality, and religious bias +would not play a role. The mind would be liberated. + Thinking of what can be accomplished is only +one of the key parts to integrating this or any plan. +Through coordination and planning, such an existence +could materialize. No longer would students and those +who seek information be thrust into academic jails. For +in such a world, information would be free. + + +- DropComm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0298.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0298.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e68a06dd --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0298.txt @@ -0,0 +1,123 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Dry, Emotionless, Random Gripes + ------------------------------- + +I am sitting here watching the sun come up. I have been up for a day now, +and will be up all day today. See, my body clock is fucked up. And the +more I tried to correct it, the worse it got. I should be on East Coast +time; I am on Tokyo time. I just left the west coast. Extreme measures +have to be taken at this point. + +My mind is blank...a GREAT time to be writing a fucking text file. >:( +I really shouldn't say it is blank. I have lots of my mind. I am in love. +She loves me. We live 2700 miles apart. The frequent flier miles are great. +We may not see each other as much as we like, but we talk on the phone +constantly. That's the great thing about being a phreak when you're in +love with someone on the opposite coast from you. You don't have to worry +about any phone bills. Can anyone say "800-redirect?" + +Enough of her. It pisses the other her off. She doesn't want to hear about +my love interest. She rolls her eyes at the mere mention of her name. It's +not like we're fucking and she has a right to be jealous. I don't even know +this woman. It's an e-mail thing. Not a fling, a thing. She sends me these +huge e-mails telling me this or that, asking me this or that. She asks, she +gets, she bitches. Go figure. She feels like she owns a piece of me. We've +never even met. + +Mailing lists suck. See, I admin a list if you don't already know. Fucking +Area 51 invasion plans that make less sense than Carolyn Meinel's reason +for existence. Whiny female discrimination conspiracies. New AOL subscribers +joining the list like we were giving away free money or something. A flood +of one-line responses CC'd to the whole world and back. Nothing of substance. +Infowar goes batshit. The NCSA goes batshit. Happy Hackers goes batshit. All +of this makes me wanna go batshit. + +Moved into my second apartment this morning. It's a really cool place, but +it is fucking trashed. Dirty walls, dirty floors, dirty everything. Nothing +a flame thrower can't fix. Once I clean it up, which I have to, because the +previous tenant was a lazy fucking loser, it will be a really cool place. +But what to do with all these boxes? I hate unpacking. + +Club scene sucks these days. San Francisco used to rock with the best night +club scene in the world. They are all gone now. Only one remains...Bondage +Au GoGo. And even that sucks now. Shitty music, too many frat boys trying +to see some tit, and everyone complaining about shit best termed "personal +club politics." Get a life. Someone has a problem with someone else, and +it becomes a drama for the whole staff to talk about for weeks. Like I +give a fuck. I am there to get drunk. Besides, the gorgeous chick bartender +wants me desperately. Been this way for months. I am always gone flying +somewhere. I haven't been there recently. She will be disappointed I am +in love. I don't care either way. Apathy. + +Binary schizophrenia has consumed me. I spend a whole night in front of a +computer and accomplish nothing. Go figure. Are these machines really a +productivity gainer? I spent all night typing and didn't accomplish a +fucking thing. About all I care about now is e-mail. This is one fucking +hell of an expensive machine to read e-mail with. I don't care. Even if I +was stupid enough to spend the money for a glorified e-mail reader, my +computer is still better than yours. + +I don't care about hacking. I do, but not in the public sense. This made +me realize that hacking is definitely a private pursuit, and should be kept +that way. Public exchange of ideas is bullshit. There are no ideas out +there. Only lamers looking to send you useless e-mail. There should be no +lists. There should be nothing but private pursuit of knowledge and a +friendly exchange with those who know. No one is gonna help you become a +hacker. If you can't realize this, you suck already and never would have +made it anyway. Go weave a basket. + +"Hackers bust into military Internet site!" So what? Who cares? The only +people who care are the same people trying to sell you a solution that +doesn't work. They are the ones telling you the headlines in the first +place. Security doesn't exist. Therefore, no industry built around it +should exist. It's a fraud. We all know it. They all know it. But they do +it anyway. People bug me. + +I want peace. I want to pursue my relationship and take it somewhere the +white trash relationships of today never go. I have an enormous amount of +free time without having to worry about a job or money. I would like to +capitalize on this time and invest it in her, thereby having it pay +dividends back to me. And when she is off attending to her patients, I +will relax and read a book and learn something. Or pop in a relaxing CD +and lounge around. Then she will come home. + +But doesn't she live 2700 miles away? If you haven't figured out that my +new place is with her, then you haven't been paying attention. Or maybe +it is because I am not coherent due to lack of sleep. But at least I can +still spell better than you. I now live on both coasts. Didn't I say enough +about talking of her earlier? Am I talking about her right now? God I need +sleep. Fifteen more hours to go for me. + +What's my point here? There is no point. Random gripes. Random, pointless +gripes. I had to get it out. I wanted to torment you by forcing you to read +them. I will send this off to Dis now. Dis. One of the few decent guys left. +I haven't been around much to shoot the shit with him as much as I would +like. This one's for you Dis. Don't ask why. I don't know the answer. + + +-se7en +4/12/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0299.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0299.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..509ca67e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0299.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + H@CK Y0URS3LF + ------------- + +uh oh, I cant seem to fall asleep..... + +So I will ramble about something that I think of often. Something +everybody complains about, and might be too stupid to realize they can do +something about it. I mean, you always hear people complaining that +their life sucks. You hear it from your neighbor, on TV, on the phone, +in IRC, maybe even through those lovely walkie-talkie intercepted +cellular phone calls. And people complain about everything under the +sun. They don't make enough money, cant get a job, have stupid kids in +gangs or pregnant, have bad luck, hate their attitude, and/or their life +is pretty much going to hell in a handbasket. In other words, people +pick on themselves because they aren't satisfied. They aren't working up +to potential and they know it (or they might not). I know I have the same +problem, but I'm fixing it. Some people don't even realize that they have +potential, and that's the saddest thing of all. When they cant even +think for themselves. When they don't realize their life is a mess +because they let it get that way. You have to know you can control it, +work towards control, then maintain control. Just like your weight. + +A small example: one might take this file I've written, point out the +imperfections, and say you weren't working up to your full potential on +this file. There are fragments, run-ons, bad usage of grammar, and +confusing sentences all over the place. + +Well, I could take that criticism, feel bad, and never write a file again +because someone tried to convince me that my writing sucks. OR I could +take that criticism and use it to my advantage. If I actually cared +about the imperfections, I would make it a learned habit to always have a +mental note in the back of my head to strive to be that perfect +writer. To be able to churn out files like a literary genius. So....I +know this file isn't any thing to hang on the refrigerator and be proud +of; I admit it but I don't apologize or get a bad-writer complex. I don't +care, cause these are just some ramblings. It doesn't matter cause I know +I can change; it's all in my head. All I convince myself that I am +capable of. *I* know I can make it the best, but I'm trying to get +everybody else to realize they can change themselves. + +It is not very complicated or anything; on the contrary, really simple. +Every belief you have is like a rule (compare it to physics :). For +instance, in a stable system every force has an equal but opposite +force. If a system does not have an opposite equal, then the system will +move, causing a change. An apple doesn't hang in mid-air but falls to the +ground. Cause and effect. + +Everything we believe causes some sort of effect. If you believe people +are evil, you will more than likely attract people with evil souls, and +thus get your beliefs confirmed. Then, to be able to change your life +for the better and take responsibility for the way your life goes, you +have to be clear on what your beliefs are and realize the effects your +beliefs have. + +This is really interesting. A bit like programming - or hacking +yourself! To be able to realize the consequences of certain programs +(beliefs) and be able to change them to get the desired effect. +Don't just give up on problems and say, "Oh, there's nothing I can do about +it." REALIZE that you don't have to be stuck with being stupid and that +you always have options. In other words, + + HACK YOURSELF. + +A pro is that you can't actually get caught, but some people will disaprove. +That is the greatest hack of 'em all. Also the most worthwhile one. + + +skinflower + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0300.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0300.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ebe7cb9c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0300.txt @@ -0,0 +1,177 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Three Zero Zero + --------------- + + File 300!#@! Bonus! + + After 4 years, 63 days, 8 hours, 14 minutes, and 33 seconds... +We finally made it. Why is this such a big goal? Because only two other +online zines of this style made it this far (cDc and uXu)? Because it is +a fuckload of writing. Because the sky is blue. You pick a reason. :) + + Below is a list of the writers, how many files they have +written, and if they are currently active. Along with that are some +somewhat inside jokes for their 'positions'. Nothing personal, just +fun and games or something from past conversation or whatever else. + + I want to also encourage you to write in with any comments +about any of the issues we release. Do not limit yourself to only +positive feedback either. If you disagree with a file or think it has +problems, let me know. I always forward on the original mail to the +author but will keep it anonymous if you want. Just let the writers +know how they are doing. + + =-= + + I would like to take the time to say 'thanks' again to all +the people who are writing for the zine. Every contribution makes +our voice a little louder and more diverse. Keep up the kick-ass +work. I'd also like to go a little further out of the way and say thanks +to a few people in paticular. Please don't interpret this as favoritism +or anything, I like all you fuckers just the same. + + Legion and Voyager: For taking the big step and spilling the +whole pot of beans to the world. Those kinds of files startle people +more than any others because of how personal they are, and how much +they share. + + Demonika: For continually giving me a sanity check along the +way as well as a healthy dose of spelling and grammar. Hopefully +we will continue to see more of your writing. + + se7en: For taking the time out of a busy schedule and writing +what is exactly on your mind. I think you give the zine a good portion +of that 'daily reality' feeling. + + GNN and Mogel: For writing in the first place. I know how hard +it is to meet your own deadlines for your own zines, let alone write +for others. My article for uXu is almost done (I know, I keep saying +that), but hopefully it will be worth the wait. + + So there it is. More years to come, more experiences to write +about, a lot more things to dislike, and then some. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + F.U.C.K. Member List + -------------------- + (the revised 'positions' are inside jokes) + + Handle Position Status Written + ------------------------------------------------------------ + - DisordeR - Writer/Editor - Active - 96 - + - Voyager - Philosopher - Active - 13 - + - Demonika - Evil One - Active - 12 - + - Rage - Strange Person - Active - 12 - + - fastjack - Grunt - Active - 11 - + - Legion - Media Play Security - Active - 9 - + - Pallbearer - Artist' - Active - 9 - + - Capone - Sensai - Active - 8 - + - DropComm - Writer - Active - 7 - + - Murc - Arthritis - Active - 7 - + - Illusionary - Warez Pup - Active - 6 - + - se7en - Instigator - Active - 6 - + - Major - Drunk - Active - 5 - + - Malloc - Evil - Active - 5 - + - SkinFlower - Chix0r - Active - 4 - + - Death - Writer - Active - 3 - + - Inverse - Writer - Active - 3 - + - K2 - TNo Bitch - Active - 3 - + - Red Baron - Writer - Active - 3 - + - Anarchy-X - Writer - Active - 2 - + - L. Humongous - Writer - Active - 2 - + - Orestes - Black Sheep - Active - 2 - + - SickBoy - Writer - Active - 2 - + - GNN - uXu Defector - Active - 1 - + - Heather Maple- Writer - Active - 1 - + - Mogel - FUCK Hoe - Active - 1 - + - Nancy Dunlap - Writer - Active - 1 - + - P. Obscure - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Pluto - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Rabies - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Slayer - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Tersian - Writer - Active - 1 - + - zens - Biznatch - Active - 1 - + - Overdriver - Writer - Inactive - 6 - + - Acid Warlock - Writer - Inactive - 4 - + - Max Headroom - Writer - Inactive - 3 - + - Morpheus - Writer - Inactive - 3 - + - Deadkat - Oracle - Inactive - 2 - + - Disk Jockey - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Distortion - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Loki - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - PsI - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Doc. Z - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Far Reaches - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Lettus B - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Night Hawk - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Rice - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Shockwave - Chocolate - Inactive - 1 - + - Uncle Elvis - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Zach D. - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Zen - Stud - Inactive - 1 - + - Zippy - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + ------------------------------------------------------------ + ( 5 files have been submitted anonymously ) + ( 8 files are reprints from other sources ) + ( 2 files were contributed by all writers ) + (Files written by multiple author are credited to largest contributor.) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + F.U.C.K. Distribution Sites + --------------------------- + + + Board Name Number Sysop Status ST + ---------- ------ ----- ------ -- +- Chemical Pursuasion 203.324.0894 Lysergic Acid Primary Dist. CT +- Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 Luthor Primary Dist. ME +- Damnation 212.861.0580 Mavec Primary Dist. NY +- Ionic Destruction 215.722.0570 Phatal Error Dist. PA +- Goat Blowers Anon 215.750.0392 Black Francis Primary Dist. PA +- Hacker's Haven 303.343.4053 Voyager Primary Dist. CO +- Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 Silicon Primary Dist. CO +- Unholiness Rising 303.980.2404 Malloc Dist. CO +- E.L.F. 314.272.3426 Jabberw0cky Dist. MO +- Misery 318.625.4532 Dist. LA +- Entropy 318.625.9666 Lettus B Primary Dist. LA +- Psykodelik Images 407.834.4576 Smurf Primary Dist. FL +- Dungeon System Inc. 410.263.2258 Dark Image Primary Dist. MD +- Paradise Lost 414.476.3181 Access Denied Primary Dist. WI +- Black SunShine 513.891.3465 Nimph Primary Dist. OH +- PSYCHOSiS 613.836.7211 Poule de Niege Primary Dist. CA +- Bad Trip 615.870.8805 Jebadiah Primary Dist. TN +- Plan 9 Info Archives 716.881.3663 Kilslug Primary Dist. NY +- The Hamster Haven 801.831.4753 Court Jester Primary Dist. UT +- Phallic Paradise 801.944.7353 Dist. UT +- The Death Star Bar 805.872.3151 Thrawn Primary Dist. CA +- Static Line 806.747.0802 Xenocide Dist. TX +- Purple Hell 806.791.0747 Acid Warlock Primary Dist. TX +- PcI 806.794.1438 PsI Dist. TX +- Majestic Madness 806.797.3860 Majestic Dist. TX +- BloodNet 901.872.8615 Raven Primary Dist. TN +- PuRe EViL 905.XXX.XXXX Prince/Darkness Primary Dist. CA +- The Keg 914.234.9674 Six Pack Primary Dist. NY +- Phoenix Modernz 908.830.8265 Tal Meta Primary Dist. NJ + +- Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 Acid Rain Primary Dist. Australia +- gote land +27.31.441115 Lord Primary Dist. South Africa +- Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 Omega Primary Dist. Netherlands + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0301.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0301.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3ebdef81 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0301.txt @@ -0,0 +1,135 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + zen - me - zine + --------------- + + A little over four years ago I don't know if I really believed +this magazine would make it this far. I did have the hope and desire +for it to go a long way. The people I talked to about where it might +go all showed doubt or skepticism. This file is for them. + + Many things have happened over the last year or so that have +directly influenced the zine, the writers, and myself. I guess that +probably doesn't need to be said since that is the case for just +about everything. My inclination says that most of the writers for +this zine have very dynamic lives compared to the average person. + + Looking back at how I used to be compared to how I was a few +years ago shows me the difference between white and black. Literally +and figuratively. I notice a pattern with my life though, and I can +predict the future to a certain degree as far as my being is concerned. +As many people have said before, things move in circles. I personally +like it the way Tommy Lee Jones said it in _Under Siege_. "A revolution +gets it's name by always coming back around in your face." And I feel +that is the case with me. After consideration of more worldly experiences +and engaging in more "social situations", I see myself returning to the +old me. + + What does that mean? Nothing and everything. It probably means +nothing to you if you don't know me. For those who do, it means little +or nothing as the case may be. Means everything in the world to me of +course. The older more bitter me. The me full of angst and loathing for +the world I live in. The more mistrusting and calculating me. The cruel +and potentially evil me. But with a twist... + + It used to be me sharing my anger with everyone, friends and family +included. Now, I forsee a more refined and passionate anger. Such that +my friends will still see my generosity while my aquaintences will see +a level of distance and aloofness. I question which side of me is my +true nature though. Part of says being distant is my true nature because +of the sheer amount of years that I went like that. Part of me says +my generosity is my true nature because I usually feel better when I +am able to help my friends and give them whatever they need. I think it +will be years down the road before I can ever answer that question. + + Voyager got me a shirt a few months back that says "Fuck You, +I have enough friends." I can't help but wonder if he saw the turmoil +I am going through, or maybe even saw the end result of my own questioning. +Maybe it was pure coincidence and he thought it was funny. Now, I certainly +agree with what it says. Part of me now wants to distance myself from +more of my friends while seeking out old friends I have lost contact with. +I don't know what to do. That is real funny considering all my friends +seem to think they know whats up. + + Every once in a while friend A will say "friend B is walking all +over you", while friend B is saying "friend C is walking all over you". +Days later friend C is telling me how bad friend A is. Seems none of them +ever realize how they may be acting toward me. If I were to go strictly +on input from my friends, I would have none. I think to a certain degree +each and every one of them is right. Thinking along those lines I begin +to wonder about the nature of people, especially those I call 'friend'. +One thing it has recently reminded me of is an old story about the +nature of things. + + An otter was sitting beside a stream enjoying himself when a + scorpion walked up to him. The scorpion said "I must get to + the other side of the stream but I can't swim". The otter + looked at the scorpion and said "I'm sorry, I can't help you." + The scorpion thought about it for a minute and said "Wait, + I can ride on your back and you can swim across." The otter + considered it for a moment before saying "But you would sting + me and I would drown!" The scorpion thought on this for a moment + and replied "But I have to get across the stream, its very + important. I promise I won't sting you." The otter looked + at him with trepidation and then agreed. He got in the water + and let the scorpion climb on his back before starting + to swim. Half way across the stream the scorpion stung the + otter on the back. "Why did you do that?! Now we will both + drown!" yelled the otter. The scorpion thought about it for + a few seconds as they both started sinking; "I don't know, + I guess it's in my nature." + + I do place faith in stories like this one because they are so +often true. But I can't figure out if human nature is that cut and dry. +Is it my nature to continually give to my friends without praise? Is +it in their nature to continually take from me without thanks? If so, +should I even consider them friend? + + I have burried myself into a deep dark pit. I won't go into +details about all of it, but needless to say I am no longer in a position +to help my friends in the same way I once used to. The truth will emerge +in the weeks to come though. When I cut off the support and help they +are ocustomed to, will they be there? More importantly, will they be +there for me when I am in need of the same type of help? Don't take this +wrong friends, but I seriously doubt it. And that is based off past trends, +nothing else. + + As time passes, I find myself missing more of my personal +philosophy. I remember years ago promising never to get drunk, to be +a social drinker only. I remember promising never to get in a serious +relationship, to only date casually. I remember promising myself +a ton of other things, but failed at that. So I think back to my +philosophical side and wonder how I let it all slip away. I know I +haven't read a lot of my books or thought about that kind of stuff +much, but has it really ambandoned me? Or maybe I have supressed +it for one reason or another. I think that is something I need to find +out, to help me answer that and a world of other questions. + + So I guess thats it. The zine will keep going, things will +progress. As always, the future is uncertain to a certain degree. +In the mean time, hold onto nothing as fast as you can. + + + .dis. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0302.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0302.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..72b66c18 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0302.txt @@ -0,0 +1,201 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + emotional skin + -------------- + + "jesus christ michelle, it's like walking on eggshells around you. +can't you ever just take what i say literally? why do you have to +twist everything that i say?" + + oh no, here she goes again. fuck. michael ran his hand through +his long dark hair in frustration and looked at his girlfriend, +who was sprawled on the couch, idly smoking a cigarette, her grey +eyes flat and uncaring. + + "i am not twisting anything, michael. i can just tell how +you feel. you don't even have to say anything. i just know. and you +think i am a total bitch, don't you? don't you? tell me the truth. i +want to know." + + fuck, fuck. all i want to do is go out with my friends, +and she keeps pulling this shit on me. what the hell is wrong with +her? + + "what do you want me to say? if i say no, you'll say i am +lying. if i say yes, you'll leave and do something stupid. the same +cycle, over and over again michelle. what do you want me to say?" + + "i want you to tell me what you really think. i want you to +be honest with me. fuck, michael. what will it take to just get you +to fucking be honest?" + + michael squeezed his eyes shut and imagined slapping some +sense into her. compassion won. + + "i can't be honest with you. i don't even know how i feel +anymore. you twist things around so that i don't know what is me +and what it you." + + michelle put out her cigarette, stretched, and stood. +her eyes were still dead, but a single tear escaped. + + "that's it. it's over. you obviously can't deal with me. +not like you promised. not like you said. you are a fucking asshole. +you abandoned me! you gave up on me. and you promised you wouldn't. +i hate you, michael." + + huh? what did i do? abandon her? when i am just going out +for the night? what the fuck is she talking about? + + michelle plucked her jeans off of the floor and put them +on. + + "i'm going out for awhile." + + michael looked at her in amazement. how did we get from there +to here? well, fuck her. + + "michelle..." + + michelle slapped him once, hard. + + "don't talk to me, asshole. go to your little group of friends, +who hate me anyway, and leave me alone." + + i'll never understand this girl. + + then she walked out. + + + + + emotional skin, part ii + + + michelle laid on the couch and lit a cigarette and looked at +her boyfriend, who was getting ready to go out with his friends. she +hated it when he went out with his friends. she knew that they hated +her, and she knew that they said shit about her behind her back. + + "michael, why don't you stay here tonight? you know, you, me, +together? alone?" + + michael sighed. + + "michelle, i already made plans. you do this all the time." + + anger boiled up inside of michelle, a murderous rage. how +dare he? he doesn't love me. his friends are more important than i +am. + + "oh, so now you think i am a bitch. just because i wanted to +spend the evening with you. fuck you." + + "jesus christ michelle, it's like walking on eggshells around you. +can't you ever just take what i say literally? why do you have to +twist everything that i say?" + + michelle closed her eyes. not again, no not again. why do +i have to be so sick? why do i have to think this way? she opened +her eyes and watched michael run his hands through his hair and +sigh. great, now he is really mad at me. + + "i am not twisting anything, michael. i can just tell how +you feel. you don't even have to say anything. i just know. and you +think i am a total bitch, don't you? don't you? tell me the truth. i +want to know." + + "what do you want me to say? if i say no, you'll say i am +lying. if i say yes, you'll leave and do something stupid. the same +cycle, over and over again michelle. what do you want me to say?" + + i want you to tell me that you love me, that you accept me +for who i am, that you will not abandon me. i want you to care about +me forever. i want you to tell me that i am ok, that you understand. +michelle sighed and opened her mouth, teeth gritted. + + "i want you to tell me what you really think. i want you to +be honest with me. fuck, michael. what will it take to just get you +to fucking be honest?" + + "i can't be honest with you. i don't even know how i feel +anymore. you twist things around so that i don't know what is me +and what it you." + + sure, blame it on me. as usual. you typical fucking freak. +michelle put out her cigarette, stretched, and stood. her eyes were +were still dead, but a single tear escaped. + + "that's it. it's over. you obviously can't deal with me. +not like you promised. not like you said. you are a fucking asshole. +you abandoned me! you gave up on me. and you promised you wouldn't. +i hate you, michael." + + michelle plucked her jeans off of the floor and put them +on. will he care enough to stay? to talk to me? to help me with my +pain? to deal with my aloneness? + + "i'm going out for awhile." + + "michelle..." + + michelle slapped him once, hard. please pay attention to me. + + "don't talk to me, asshole. go to your little group of friends, +who hate me anyway, and leave me alone." + + then she walked out. + + + emotional skin part iii + + "you have no armor, michelle. you have nothing to protect you +from emotional elements." + + michelle glared at her therapist, bored with the same old same +old. + + "i know that. give me prozac and i will be on my merry little +way." + + michelle's therapist sighed, wrote out a prescription, and +handed it to her. + + "you know, you really need to combine..." + + "medication with therapy, pure medication is contraindicated +with borderline personality disorder. yeah, i know. but guess what, +doctor? i've been doing this for 10 years, and i really don't have +faith in the oracle of bullshit anymore. thank you, doctor. when +you find a cure, let me know." + + "you need therapy." + + "yeah? tell my insurance company. thanks for the drugs, doc." + + then she walked out. + +- Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0303.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0303.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7f0c793b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0303.txt @@ -0,0 +1,69 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Land of the Priceless + --------------------- + +What is the American Way? +Or better yet, what is the American Dream? +And if I sing the National Anthem out of key, +will I go to Hell? Or is Heaven for sinners? +What is the American Culture? +Who really is Uncle Sam and what did he do +when he was alone with Betsy Ross? +Is Baby New Year their child? +And what ever happened to Old Father Time +on his first date with Mother Nature? +And why are all those Native Americans +known as American Indians when they were first? +Shouldn't we be whatever name they gave this land? +And did George Washington chop down a Cherry Tree, +and does it really matter? He owned Slaves. +And did Abraham Lincoln want to free the Slaves, +or did he just want his name in the History Books? +And when he walked on the moon, did Neil Armstrong +get an Erection from the cold wind slapping at his Groin? +And what is our preoccupation with Sex being equal to Love, +when all we really need is some Freedom and some Peace. +But someone killed the important Men, and many Women +are being suppressed and they let the Idiots run free. +Don't live in Glass Houses, but stay under Glass Ceilings. +Where is the Logic, the Reality, in shutting down desire? +Finish the Food on your plate because someone, somewhere +has nothing to eat but their Pride, and there's not much left. +And what about all the Poets and Artists who feed on pain, +and what about the Prisoners who feed on tax money. +What about the Students who learn how to enrich Hatred, +and how about those Athletes who break a leg and still get paid? +And when the Millennium comes, I'm going to celebrate +all the truths about Aliens, Mystic Cults and the Armageddon. +But it won't be Jesus coming back to Save all the Sinners +because what we all really need is the Wizard of Oz. +And in the Last Minutes of our lives, we all Smile at memories, +and we all sing our Favorite Song to die with tears in our Eyes. +And when I Stop Breathing, I want them to play a Fast Tune +to remind me that Patience is a virtue, and Truth is a friend. + +Christopher Stolle +April 15, 1997 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0304.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0304.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d58f7095 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0304.txt @@ -0,0 +1,70 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + ipf-1-hb + -------- + +How bizarre. + +Streams of regret twist through my darkened soul. I see the light of +reason permeate the translucent haze of my understanding but yet I still +cower in the corner. Images of past defeat are the trademarks of my +emotional compass. How many times have I wanted to go back? When did +the resounding clamor of my promises dissipate? Why is it that I am here +again? + +How bizarre. + +It has often been said that hindsight brings reason into a situation. But +why is it that hindsight hounds me into turmoil? If reason exists in this +contorted reality why can't I see it? I can feel the vibrating chords of +regret's chorus resonate in the chamber of my heart. I can see the +blinding images of my past as they shatter the lens of my soul. Is my +existence a metaphor. Is a metaphor my existence? + +How bizarre. + +I see the actions which have driven me to the edge. I can nearly taste +the tears upon my lips. Will a clinical diagnosis provide solstice? I +doubt. Nothing more. The logical progression of ideal experiences are +intoned in my conscienceness. But why can I not follow in the path of +such logic? Why must I praise self-destruction like a golden calf? +Even sleep deprives me of the escape it once provided. Dreams spit the +cold venom of failure into the eye of sub-conscience. + +How bizarre. + +I love. I hate. I rage. Extreme emotions breathe the steady flow of +life into the lungs of my mind. Introverted analysis paints a picture of +mental calamity. Extroverted expressions swath the canvass of reputation +with the dark brush of insanity, dripping with the black ink of Never +Forget. How many visitors to the museum of my soul leave wanting a +refund? How often are the paintings in my gallery scorned? Life is. +Life was. Life will always be. The usher will seat you now. + +How bizarre. + +-. illusionary .- +.- 15 apr 1997 -. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0305.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0305.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..47c616af --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0305.txt @@ -0,0 +1,217 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Idaho Has Its Revenge + --------------------- + + So it's around 10:30 on Friday night and we're making pretty good +time. We made it from Portland to Boise in about six and a half hours. +Boise isn't too bad, but Shaedow and I have decided that we really don't +like Idaho as a whole. Driving through there the first time, on our way +up to Oregon, we passed many towns that could easily be the setting for +Deliverance and we had a few laughs by making inbreeding jokes that could +just as easily have been the truth. "I'm gonna make you squeeel like a pig, +boy," kept a' coming to mind.Every time Shaedow even said the word "Idaho" +there was a very distinct tone of contempt in his voice. We stopped in Twin +Falls to eat on our way up to Boise the first time and decided we hated +Twin Falls and we were never going there again. The whole state was just +way too po' dunk, redneck for me. Now that I think back, I shouldn't have +laughed when Troy, our traveling companion, got three of his tires flattened +while staying in Boise. I should have known it was a sign. + So like I was saying, we're making good time. Shaedow is driving +and I'm just thinking about all the shit I have to do when I get home. I'm +a bit anal when it comes to getting things done, so I'm actually working +out my schedule for the rest of the week in my head. I figured I'd get +home by Saturday afternoon, so I would have plenty of time to study for +my test on Monday and I may even get my painting assignments done a little +early. As I'm flipping through my mental day-planner, I see it. Then we hit +it. I'm not sure what it was but it made a none too pleasant noise when +the bottom of the car nailed it. + It takes me a few seconds to regain composure. Shaedow and I just +look at each other, wondering what the hell that was when I smell the +anti-freeze coming through the vents. Shaedow looks at the heat gauge and +it holds itself steadily in the red. We pull over to see what kind of +damage had been done. shaedow goes to the trunk for a flashlight and I +go a few yards away to relieve myself. I'm walking back to the car, +nearly getting my clothes ripped off by the closely passing semi trucks, +when Shaedow says, "Hey. Do you want to see what we hit?" + "Whaddya mean?" I ask as I walk to join him. I look under the front +of the car to where he's shining the flashlight and my chin almost hit the +ground. Evidently we had hit a huge block of wood and it wanted to come +along for the ride, as it was embedded in the radiator, don't ask me how. + I'm not very pleased with this situation. We're in bum fuck Egypt, +right next to the sign pointing out the next exit that will take us to +Wendell, Idaho. There are no signs of civilization in either direction so +I am at a loss. I suggest that we wait for a pig to come by, but Shaedow +isn't into it. At this point our options are to either inch it into Wendell +and work it out from there, or try to make it 20 more miles to Twin Falls +and risk blowing the car up. We decide to creep to Wendell. Fortunately for +us there was a small town hiding in the trees which was comprised of a gas +station, a towing garage, a small motel (with its neon "M" and "O" burned +out), a bar and a movie theater. We leave the car at the gas station and +haul all our shit to the "TEL" two blocks away. We get a room and decide +to find out about the local mechanics in the morning. + We watch a little T.V. and try to relax. After a while we, get to +talking. Trying to make light of the situation, we come up with a theory +about this block of wood we hit. We think that the Wendelltons put that +block there in the road to beef up their economy a bit. Since no one can +even see the town, they figure they can get some business by forcing +hapless travelers into their town by destroying radiators. It makes +sense to me. + The light in this room is creepy and it's giving me a headache. +We're getting up early so we shut it off... + + 9:30 Saturday morning and my little alarm clock is beeping. We +shower, pack up and check out. Again, we haul all our shit back to the +car and begin looking through the phone book to find a garage. With little +surprise we find that the only mechanic in Wendell doesn't work on +Saturday's, so we just have to get it towed to Twin Falls where the guy +at J.R. Miller said he would work on it. + I'm' thinking, Okay. No problem. We get to Twin Falls, get the car +fixed by this afternoon, we're back on the road by tonight and home by +Sunday evening. + "Just a minute," Idaho says, "I'm just getting started with you." + A half an hour and $100 later, we are in Twin Falls, again. The +towing guy said he had to dislodge the block of wood in order to tow the +car and he left it at the gas station (they probably just want to stick +it back out on the highway). That's kind of a drag since I thought that +it would make a great souvenir. The J.R. Miller guy says that he can't +do anything until he can find another radiator. He says the soonest he +can get one is Monday, so we better get a rental car and a motel room. + It takes me almost an hour to totally absorb the reality of the +situation. I realize that I am going to miss my test on Monday, I am going +to be behind in my photography, literature and ethics classes and I'm +going to have to bust my ass to get my paintings turned in on time. But +I finally accept it and begin to rearrange my mental day-planner. + After getting a rental car, we go to the Denny's which is located +right across the street from "Me 'n Ed's" pizza parlor. I'm not hungry, +but Shaedow shovels down a Grand Slam breakfast in the two minutes it +takes me to go to the bathroom. We decide to get a room at the Motel 6 +down the street, unload our shit and drive around town. + After an hour or so of driving, we go back to the room for lack of +anything better to do. Shaedow hooks up his laptop and sinks into his +alternate reality and I sit on the bed and watch our free HBO, since I +have no laptop. I call my mom so she doesn't start thinking that I died. +Right before we went to bed, Shaedow committed the cardinal sin of bad +luck situations. He looks at me and he says, "How much worse can it really +get." + + Monday morning and J.R. Miller guy says that no one in town has a +radiator for a Honda Civic, so he'll have to call a place in Nevada to +have it sent in. It should be in by Tuesday and he can have us out of +town by five o' clock. That was an instant headache. My heart sinks and +my mental day-planner has a shit fit. Shaedow relates to me how odd it is +that a town like Twin Falls wouldn't have a new radiator for a Honda +somewhere. Right now I want nothing more than a bottle of tequila. +Passing out for the next 24 hours is sounding better and better. After +much whining and pleading with Shaedow to get me the hell out of this +room for a little while, he agrees to take me to a movie. We go to THE +theater to watch Happy Gilmore. Good flick. It lets out and the token +punk rock kid of Twin Falls bums a smoke from Shaedow. We figured it was +for the 16 year old girl hooked to his waist and it would probably get +him laid. + + Tuesday afternoon and J.R. Miller guy just got the radiator. The +only problem is that it's broken. He says he's going to have to call some +place in Washington to get another one sent in for tomorrow. Now i'm getting +pissed. We have already spent entirely too much time is this shitty little +town that we swore never to return to. I just want to go home. That's simple +enough, isn't it? I have been stuck in this room for three days and I am +going to freak out if I don't get out! I try to appeal to Shaedow's sympathy, +but then remember that he doesn't have any. So I annoy him until he agrees +to take me out for coffee. I know I sound like a total nag, but keep in +mind I have nothing to entertain me or keep me company. Nothing good on +T.V. and Shaedow blocks me out completely when he's on the internet. So +we're at the coffee shop and Shaedow bums a smoke to the token skater kid +of Twin Falls. The kid acted like Shaedow had just given him a gold coin +instead of cancer. + We get back from the Blue Lakes Java shop and he goes right back to +the laptop. So I start to contemplate the ever worsening situation. We +must have died back on the highway, I think, because this is most definitely +hell. + + Wednesday afternoon and J.R. Miller guy just got the radiator. The +only problem is that it's for a stick shift, not an automatic. I'm going +to scream or cry or go on a killing spree. I can't take this shit! Then I +hear that he can still get us out by tonight, it'll just take a little +longer. Okay, okay. Just do it. + We drive in circles for almost four hours. Killing time in a small +town is nearly impossible, but eventually five o' clock rolls around and +we go to the garage. Just a little longer. A little longer. Little longer. +Longer, longer, longer. Six thirty and J.R. Miller guy is looking everything +over one more time before sending us on our merry way. I am on my toes +waiting to get the okay to get the fuck out when his expression changes. +He starts rubbing the top of the radiator like he's cleaning it. He's +silent for almost two full minutes before he says, "This one's cracked." + Then he goes into this explanation of how hard it is to find a used +radiator and that he could have had us out of town on Monday if we had +wanted a new one. I walked out and smoked three cigarettes before I could +calmly deal with this. I finally go back in and Shaedow is discussing our +options with the mechanic. I gather that we can wait till Friday or +Saturday for another radiator, he could try to weld it shut ("But you +just never know if it'll work or if it'll make a bigger hole"), or we +could get some cold welding bond, which is like epoxy for automotive parts. +We pay J.R. Miller guy and go to Target for some cold welding bond. The +directions say it has to sit overnight to harden properly. SOMEBODY +SHOOT ME! + + Thursday morning and the glue looks like it's holding pretty good. +Shaedow put about three tablespoons of the glue on last night and it +solidified like some petrified mass of snot. Shaedow calls his mom to let +her know we were getting on our way. Before he hangs up with her, he says, +"You really didn't have to tell me that." + + "Tell you what?" I ask, after he hangs up. + + "You know that town Buhl that's about five miles away?" + + "Yeah." + + "My mom said that she has a cousin there and he just happens to be +a mechanic." + + I almost start to cry. + + We take the rental back and hit the road. I don't think I have +ever been so excited to be on the highway in my life. We take it easy for +the first hundred miles. We pull off to the Denny's in Pocatello and see +that the glue is still holding. With nothing short of ecstasy, I hop back +in the car ready to go on for the next ten hours. I don't want to stop +until I am home (pee breaks and gas fill-ups aside, of course). + Around four in the afternoon, we reach the state border. I crack a +huge smile as I see the "Welcome To Wyoming" sign. I ask Shaedow, "Are +you ready?' + He smiles at me as we both turn around in our seats to give Idaho +a long overdue, heartfelt middle finger. + + epilogue + -------- + +about six months later I get a call from Shadow late in the afternoon +and he says, "You are never going to believe what I just saw on T.V." +"What?" I ask. "There's this talk show about Wendell, Idaho and -get +this- Wendell, Idaho is the Hokey Pokey capital of the world." + + +- Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0306.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0306.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a5e76010 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0306.txt @@ -0,0 +1,64 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Daily Rot + --------- + +Here I am on a random day with random thoughts, and I've realized one +thing, the thing that strings us all together the people that read this, +all of us disfunctional irc-er's, the hax0rs.. we all have a curse, the +curse of curiosity. We don't except the "truth" as it is told to us. We +question anything and everything. I have also noticed that for the most +part have had a fucked up/ non-existant childhood. The "cyber" culture +not only brings us together, but separates us from reality, and from +ourselves. + +We run home everyday (those of us who leave the house) to a blinking +screen, talking to people all over the world, arguing over imaginary +boundaries (all you people who play irk war games know who you are) It +gives a sense of who we are, or rather what we want people to see. We can +be tough, we can stand up to the fears that have kept us in our remote +existence. We can be distant yet at the same time so much closer to +people that don't exist in our "daily routines" + +We are the kids that didn't have a voice, but now can bellow and be heard, +we are the ones that don't put up with beurocratic bullshit, we question +it and put up a fight, if not a physically, we don't let ourselves submit +mentally. The net like anything else has been taking over by the +"industry" every time I hit a web page some advertisement comes up (and +that's why i don't watch T.V.) or get some junk email promising a "get +rich quick scheme" .. I get nauseus, I feel like it's being taken over. +Our safe haven, where you don't have to be a certain color, or "type" to +fit in, is once again going to be controlled by mindless fucks who only +care about making money. Information is why we are all here why, stirred +by our curiosity we spent many sleepless nights filling our hunger. + +You can dismiss this as some random rambling written by a random person +on a random day.. or you can take some time and think about what i have +said, why we are here why we are reading this.. information == knowledge. +And that is what we strive for what we hope to achieve, not status , or +money but the right to think freely and speak freely. So when you stare +blankly at your screen remember what brought you there in the first place.. + +-bluerose + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0307.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0307.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..623f10d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0307.txt @@ -0,0 +1,89 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Sniff My Glue + ------------- + +Ever hear the saying "Alcoa can't wait till tomorrow?" If you +watched NFL football ten to fifteen years ago you did. (In case +you are wondering Alcoa, listed as `AA' on the NYSE, makes +aluminum products). I never liked the commercials because I knew +tomorrow was Monday and Monday usually brought (High) School. +Another day of homework and solitude in a world where I didn't +fit in very well. I didn't like to look a day ahead and looking +weeks ahead usually meant a report or science project (ugh) would +be due. Very rarely did I look forward to going to High School. + +Somewhere between Elementary, Junior High, and High School the +world changed and left me behind. It became hard to look forward +to anything those days especially when tomorrow meant going back +to school. Unlike Alcoa I could wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow +meant Monday and Monday's suck--Garfield understood. + +It has been almost ten years since I graduated from high school +and it is almost hard for me to believe I'm still around. And +get this, I spent five more years getting a college degree! But +unlike High School I seemed to fit in a little better at college. +Surviving became a bit easier. + +Twelve years ago the bell rang telling me it was lunch time. A +time which I mostly spent alone, sat outside on a bench and ate +my lunch. During my four years in High School I sat inside the +cafeteria and ate lunch about five times if that. The lunchroom +was a world of noise, confusion, and alien to me. Rain or shine +most of my days were spent eating outside until my last two years +when I rode my bike (I didn't have a car) home (1 mile) for +lunch. Do you think I could "wait for tomorrow?" You sure as +shit better believe I could. I dreaded it. + +So if you can imagine a lot of the last twelve years being +similar to that then maybe you can understand me saying "it is +almost hard for me to believe I'm still around." This way of +life makes one feel like an alien; on the wrong planet, the wrong +country, or at the wrong time. + +These days tomorrow IS my glue. Hope of brighter days, new +friendships, experiences, and challenges keep me around to see +the days ahead. I don't look too far ahead just enough to keep me +moving in the forward direction. Something a simple as a movie, +TV program, or package can keep my hopes high for tomorrow. +Conferences (Comdex/CES), vacations, finishing a project, and new +experiences keep me looking a bit further ahead. It is a simple +existence but I don't need or ask for much. I don't expect +understanding as something things can't be understood especially +to those who are not aliens. + +You can stop the boo hoo's and bits of sarcasm. I know there are +other people who have "real" problems both physical and mental. +And maybe that IS the problem with a lot of the world today. +Some of us do have problems that can't be seen, measured or even +understood yet we are the ones written off and alienated. This +is who I am to accept or ignore. + +Maybe you can smell it now? I'm talking about my glue. It keeps +me together, surviving. And surviving is winning for those of us +who are aliens. + +Alien blueprint, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0308.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0308.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..967fdc5a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0308.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Exeunt + ------ + + jane weighed 65 pounds when i met her. she paced constantly, +dragging her iv feeding tube around with her. she thought that if +she exercised enough, she wouldn't gain weight with the tube. she +was 13. she was sweet and generous, brilliant intellectually. her +eyes looked like the vapid holes in a skull emptied of its flesh. +her fingers were so delicate they looked as if holding a pencil +would be too stressful. she died when she was 14. she weighed 54 +pounds. + + joe was 16 when we met. he tried to kill a kid for calling +him a faggot. he wasn't gay, just angry. he had been in the hospital +4 times, once for a year. he never spoke, except to me. somehow he +felt safe with me. he went into violent rages, kicking and screaming, +begging to die. the beast, he called it, the rage within him. he +killed himself when he was 19. they discovered that he had two y +chromosomes when he died. + + maria was hiv positive. she was 15 and had been coking +and prostituting for 3 years when we met. she had this hair, so +gorgeous and long. she was so proud of it. she would spend hours +on it, even when her face was covered with sores. she ran away once, +only to come back on smack, trembling and crying. she died at 20. +cancer, i heard. + + john was 18 when he was diagnosed as having paranoid +schizophrenia. once he was a kid who liked science and had a +girlfriend and went to his junior prom. when i saw him he was +curled up in one of the chairs, hands shaking from the meds, +whispering softly to himself. he studied the ceiling a lot, and +had no control of his bladder. they finally put him in diapers. +i don't know where he is now. + + i was 15 the first time i cut myself. did it for years. +i tried to kill myself a few ways a few times. i was anorexic +and bulimic. in the psych hospital twice. they had to watch +me eat, drink, and go to the bathroom. they took my blood +every day. i was on 4 or 5 meds at a time. i slept all the time +or not at all. i have been beaten and raped, sexually abused. +i have never been totally happy. i doubt i ever will be. +but i am not dead. and i will not die. i will live. + + even if i have to kill myself trying. + +- Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0309.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0309.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..15ba4808 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0309.txt @@ -0,0 +1,142 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + BUZZ + ---- + + I had called Julie to go out since I figured she would be going +nuts in her apartment by herself since Steve, her boyfriend and my +co-worker and friend, had to go out of state for a family thing. We +didn't really see each other unless we were both with Steve, but I +wanted to be nice to her try to show her a little good will. Besides, +she had been bugging me to take her to "one of those weird coffee shops" +for weeks. I was a little concerned that she might feel slightly out of +place if I took her to any of my usual hang outs, but she seemed undaunted +when I explained to her that she would be hard pressed to find anyone here +who didn't have a nose, nipple or tongue ring. I expected her to be +revolted, but she was really dying to see some of the counter- culture. +Like some kind of researcher, she wanted to see what "they" were like, +first hand and maybe pull out a few sketches for her Monday night drawing +class. + We walked in the door and a boulder of cigarette and clove smoke +rolled out the door just before it closed. Julie took a quick surveillance +of the dimly lit cafe before deciding that we were to sit in the corner +where she could get a good look around. I set up my little work area to +write for my magazine and she puled out her drawing notebook, a few odd +looking pencils and a mangled eraser. She lit one of her narrow, pristine +cigarettes and held it delicately between her manicured fingers. We cracked +small grins at each other in silence for a few seconds, not knowing quite +what to make of the situation. I almost felt like I was trying to hang out +with my mother. I pulled my manic hair up into a pony tail, peeled of my +leather jacket and began writing without another moment wasted. Realizing +that I wasn't going to chit chat, she consulted the menu and scanned it up +and down and back again. + After about eight minutes, the tattooed, pierced, violet haired +waiter noticed our presence came by and asked us for our orders. + + "I'll have a double iced mocha" I said. + + "I'll try this Mind Melter thing," Julie said pointing to it on the +menu. The waiter paused and looked at her doubtfully, as was I. + + "It's pretty strong," the waiter warned, "The boss was considering +taking it off the menu soon due to all the legal threats." + + "You know Julie" I said, "you're not a real big coffee drinker. +That might not be such a good idea." + + An expression of firm determination planted itself firmly on her +face as she said, "No, I want to try it." + + "Okay," the waiter said shaking his head. He scribbled our orders +down and walked back to the bar. + + I was on my second page when he returned with our two drinks. Mine +was in an oversized mug and Julie's was in a large glass. The Mind Melter +was an oily black and had the consistency of slightly thinned chocolate +syrup. She picked up her glass and examined it for a minute like it was +some kind of rare animal. She slowly brought it to her lips and cautiously +sipped as though she believed it might actually sear her face off. She +swallowed the first gulp and her whole body relaxed. + + "This is really good," she smiled. "I don't know what all the fuss +is about." + + I nodded and continued writing. Within a matter of minutes, the +Mind Melter was gone. Julie excused herself to the bar and returned +already sucking down another one. + + "What the hell are you doing?" I snapped. "That's enough caffeine +to kill a small horse." + + "Oh, stop it," she said joking defiantly. "I think I can handle it. +To be honest, I don't think there's any caffeine in this thing." + + I returned to my pad of paper and tried to ignore her. Her second +drink vanished almost as quickly as the first. As the last drop of sludge +went into her mouth, she was up for another one. This one was gone before +she even got back to the table. I noticed the waiter nearby and he was +looking at us with something unmistakably like pity. Julie flashed me an +innocent grin and sat back down to resume drawing. That's when it started. + It was really subtle at first. Julie was only trembling a little. +She toyed with her small diamondstud earrings and clacked her nails on the +table. Every minute or so she would lay her pencil down and steady herself +with a deep breath and/ or a cigarette. The quivers were soon replaced by +full blown tremors. I could see her fidgeting around a lot as if she were +covered in fleas. She was trying to hide it and continued to draw. I raised +my eyes and watched her as she scrawled manically on page after page, each +"drawing" nothing more that a mass of chaotic marks. She began flailing so +wildly that the table was rocking, my mug was clacking around in its dish +and the remains of my drink were spilling all over the table. + "Are you all right?" I asked. She jerked back into her chair and +started laughing. With every breath she got louder and higher in pitch. +By now more than half the cafe was staring at us. Julie just looked around +the room and kept right on laughing. With a sudden jerk, she shot out her +arm and grabbed a handful of the sweetener packets out of the porcelain +bowl on the table and proceeded to throw the little pink, white and blue +wads at the other customers. When she emptied our bowl, she invaded the +table next to us and rapidly fired off all of theirs as well. + When both bowls of ammunition were empty, she jumps onto our table +and began a new assault with half and half creamers. Everyone was shouting +and blocking, but she kept right on going. Then, without provocation, her +attention was diverted to the kitchen. She leaped from the table like a cat +and scrambled through the doorway. Now, I didn't actually see her strip, +but one by one her various articles of clothing came flying back into the +cafe. Someone in back was yelling, "Leave those alone and get outta here." + + Then her voice shouting, "Your mailman has gravy in his shoes!" + + Julie came bursting back into the cafe, stark naked save her socks +and a rubber glove she'd stretched over her head. She sprinted to the +front doors dodging the scattered tables and plowed her way outside. +Before the doors shut, we saw her take off down the street screaming +"I'm a squid! I'm a squid!" + Two guys in the corner applauded, and some girl burst out laughing +but everyone else was staring at me as if I could even begin to explain +what had just happened. The waiter had come back to the table without me +noticing. He stood beside me, sporting the same bewildered expression I +must have had. He chuckled a little, then turned to me and said, "I think +we should take it off the menu now." + +-Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0310.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0310.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..aa6d7ec2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0310.txt @@ -0,0 +1,58 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + rachmaninov's dream + ------------------- + +i walked outside my house this morning, the sky was falling, and god was +no where to be found. i walked down between the cracks newly formed around +the earth. there i found an old man with a wooden beard hiding in a chilly +black tunnel. he pointed beyond the gates of hell and asked "when was the +last time you opened a book and saw the fell words of madness dance upon +your mind? how can you name the wickedness any other title then yourself? +these are the ways infinity is formed and darkness begins to prevail." +this man could be no other then the eternal, so i asked him for the +meaning of life. he looked pale within my eyes and responded only "we're +trading places." have no faith but that of endless change, and hold no +truths but that of trickery. this is the time worth waiting for, this is +the end of the beginning and the conquest of the departed. i felt a sharp +stab from realization as my groundlings began to huddle. the old man spoke +once more "this existence is now yours my love. treat it as i have treated +you", and then dove beyond the boundaries of imagination. i began to speak +"my fine dominions, come now to the surface. we shall embark all mindless +men with death, and give those that long, the answer to reality. a new +book shall be formed, and shall be filled with truth. hear the new age of +i, and feel the old pain of tomorrow. with our new beginning we shall hold +these mortal coils with a gentle hand. we shall emerge great palaces +across the world, bring back the face of fantasy and dictatorship. once +order is conquered this earth shall remain cold and still, as a moon +without a world. i alone hold the future and will bring great peace +through my treachery. no soul fumbling through this existence shall have +stance against me. and so arise! arise great visages onto the earth! we +shall walk across the face o' it and bring order to all! hold your shadows +close dear friends for the sun shall never rise again!" + + ------------ + end.rage-303 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0311.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0311.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c5927056 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0311.txt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + shit list + --------- + +Shit wednesday hates: + +Polyester, pink anything, Tony Benett, Orbitz, yuppie assholes, +hypocrites, politicians, girl flicks, The Human Race, beets, Christmas, +Bob Saget, people that use the term "elite" with a straight +face, anyone who owns a Viper or Diablo that isn't me or someone who +will let me ride/drive in it, The Brady Bunch, Bic pens, Macintosh, +Snapple, meatloaf, Keds, Jello shots, African Greys, technophobes, +Visual Basic, alternators, flourescent lights, cardigans (sweaters and +the band) asparagus, tests of the Emergency Broadcast System, snow, +stucco, 9 volt batteries, Elvis sightings, dinner parties, dirt roads, +insurance, 8 tracks, Shrinky Dinks, front clasp bras, football, daylight +savings time, Hemmingway, Perkins, Volkswagon Rabbits, stupid questions +(yes there IS such thing as a stupid question), kareoke, golfing pants, +"Where's the Beef?" T- shirts, people who walk around impersonating crack +babies, button fly jeans, collection agencies, professional wrestling, +Calvin Klein ads with those English anorexics, Idaho, Superman, +Snuffalupagus, slipper socks, poodles, Easter, Sweet 'n Low, Surge, +velcro, evvironmentalist lesbian buddhist vetranarians, Pat Buchanan, +Pat Sajak, popcorn flavored jellybeans, Fugazi-gone-anti-pit, that fucker +that always beat me up in 3rd grade, ladybugs, Monopoly, Motley Crue, +Ruth's voice, Muddy's, smurfs, Regis Philbin, Bicardi 151, "Free Willy" +(in fact it REALLY irks me that they stuck Mr. Blond from Reservoir Dogs +in that movie as Mr. GoodGuy foster dad), John Tesh, shag carpet, dust +bunnies, Tipper Gore, clogs, caffeine free, parallel parking, pink hearts, +orange stars, yellow moons, green clovers, blue diamonds, purple horseshoes, +red balloons, panic buttons, sticky notes, avacado green kitchen appliences, +country music, black eyes, Martha Stuart (she's the anti- christ, you know), +empty refrigerators, fat chicks in spandex, Rikki Lake, mornings, all the +good bands that are "maturing", cutting their hair and starting to sound +like REM, dental work, run on sentences, good trashing sites next to Black +Jack Pizza, laundry, scratching on the eight ball, hippies or anything that +smells like patchouli, Jehovah's Witnesses, probable cause, Cabbage Patch +Kids, flower prints, the macarena, Speedo's, needle point, tic-tac-toe, +angry Italians, Lil' Feet's attitude problem as well as his wierd ass need +to be so overpowering to a female as small and delicate as I am, standing +in line, Steven Segal, parking violations, "you know you're a redneck +if...." lists, entry level employment, pseudo intellectuals, coffee shop +poetry readings, organized religion, alarm clocks, people asking where +"Norwegia" is, college radio, telemarketing, bee hive hairdo's, lawnmowers, +barbed wire, paper and plastic, pennies, Barry Manilow, crock pots, dorm +rooms, family get togethers, gauze pads, jalapenos, bobby pins, NyQuil, +long distance phone companies, crimping irons, smiley face boxer shorts, +rose tatoos, 12 hour shifts, Menudo, pissy senile old people, abstractions, +packing and moving, "why did the chicken cross the road" jokes, any book +that Fabio adrons the cover of, papercuts, Mentos comercials, useless +college degrees, butt floss, corduroy, No. 2 pencils, Weezer, anger +therapy, Justin Fowler (by request) and anything deemed "cute". + +- Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0312.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0312.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b3316abe --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0312.txt @@ -0,0 +1,100 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + I Pay For This? + --------------- + +"Fuck you and your little fucking grade book," is all I could think while I +looked down at the slip of paper with my name and an "F" on it. I'm +miserable, feeling hopeless, helpless. The first emotions that come to me +are anger, vengeance. After a few minutes of stewing, the anger subsides and +the sorrow kicks in. + Yes, here I am again, "F" on the paper. The magic paper that is going +to add up with the other papers I have been handed back with A's B's C's and +D's on them. Last week I thought I was doing so well, I was happy. Now I am +feeling empty, alone, helpless. "I should just drop out and get a job," +echoes in my mind as I stare at the "F" and remember all the times I had +been in this same situation. "What about my father? He'll be crushed if I +don't graduate from college," I ponder other solutions. This is where the +last minute bravery kicks in, where I tell myself, "I'll show them, I'm +gonna get straight A's from here on out." Then I suddenly remember how many +times in the past I've told myself that. + It's back to the depression again, the teacher lectures on and I +wonder how you ended up in such a fucked up situation. I look at him and +wonder, "who gave this asshole the authority to judge me?" I feel a tinge +of that anger coming back. + I'm looking at the grade on the paper again, pondering it's true +meaning. This "F" says to me, "you did nothing, you are nothing, you have +failed." I have failed? How? Just because I didn't produce what that +pompous, over zealous, asshole wanted, I have failed? I don't think so. +I think some teacher that I pay the salary for just told me that my work +isn't worth shit. Why did I even bother doing anything at all? + Class is wrapping up and I am cool, calm, and collected. I get up +from my seat and walk towards him. He's done with class, happy as a lark. +I take out my paper and hold it in my hand. He slowly turns around and I +say to him, "Why?" He asks me "Why what?" I shake the paper in front of +his face. He says "Oh that!" I think to myself, "Yes, this you asshole, +how can you just give someone an "F" and forget about it so quickly." The +anger is back. He begins to tell me how "my group gave no indication that +I did any work, plus my lecture did not show him that I had read the +material and that my notes on other works of the particular author were +of no relevance to the class." "You were supposed to talk about the style +of the story" he says, "but I spoke on the style of the author as a whole, +did hours of research and I deserve an F?" + I am trying to control myself, but it is getting harder as he makes +claims that I had not even read the five page story in the book and that I +was lecturing from "another story I had read in another class." Fuck him, I +had never even heard of this shitty author before I was forced to do this +assignment. I try to reason with him, "perhaps I misunderstood you when you +said we were supposed to teach the class about the author", he snidely +replies "yes, you were, but with the story that is in our book." + He then begins packing up all of his papers into his briefcase and +prepares to leave the classroom. Where the fuck is he going? I'm not done +talking to him! He walks out and I follow behind him still stating my case +"I did do research on the author and that counts for nothing?" He maintains +his point about me not "conveying that I had read the story." So I get an +"F", a "zero" for the assignment because he feels that I did not read the +story. I reassure him that I did read the story, as well as other stories by +the same author. He simply repeats what he had said before and picks up his +pace as we are walking towards his office. + I try again to reason with him, "but what you are telling me with +this grade is that I did nothing, that I should not have even shown up?" He +turns to me and says , "Look, I am just going to say what I have said before +so I am not going to say it." Well, isn't that considerate of him. He turns +and goes into his office, I don't follow. Again, I wonder why I let this +happen, why don't I just say "look, fuck you, I don't give a shit what you +think, I did the reading and you are wrong for giving me an 'F'?" It's +probably because I have my final coming up and I fear that he will give +me an "F" on that too. + Why am I forced to live out my educational career in fear and +powerlessness? Do I not pay for this shit? Are they paying me to attend? At +least in high school I wasn't paying twenty thousand dollars a year to take +shit from egomaniacs that couldn't get a real job if their life depended on +it so they went into teaching. I think I'll just quit school and take one of +the job offers I've received, why do I need this frustration? And people ask +me why I am going gray at 23. + +-Tersian + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0313.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0313.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b005d29b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0313.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + MaxDaemonChildren + ----------------- + + My lips are dry for want of kissing. You see, he lives far +away. He has a girlfriend. His life is one of content, all is orderly +and rearranged for maximum psychological stability. He has a stable job. +He cut his hair. He is cleanshaven now. + + Not like when we met. + + I will never forget it. I was 16, fucked up, scarred. I didn't +eat enough. I was in a psych ward, on the levels system, President of +the freaks. I was IQ tested and put in the same track as him. So we +met 'in school'. + + "Why?" + + That was it. One question. One word that spoke a thousand. +His eyes were haunted perfection. He stood, too thin, with hands +shoved into pockets, shoulders slumped, large loose sweater over +tye dye. His eyes burned into mine, and I knew that if I lied, he +would know. + + One second. + + That was all it took, and I knew that we were kindred. +He hummed Jane's Addiction as he typed furiously at a computer with +the monitor switched off. His dark hair covered one eye and touched +his shoulders rebelliously. His arms were scar covered from razors +and bowls. His skin was pale, his face unshaven. I loved him. + + "I thought you were lying through your teeth." + + We were in group, a tough one with a scary leader. This +is what he told me his first impression of me was. He was right. +He was honest. And he just didn't fucking care how angry he made +me. + + I have been searching for him in the shadows of other men +ever since. + + We're friends now. He tells me about work and his +girlfriend. He takes anti-depressants. We write hurried e-mail on +lunch breaks. There will always be a part of me, a tiny part of my +soul, that will be devoted to him. And somehow, I know, that I will +never find his equal, that he was my one chance, and that it will +be impossible to find another soul whose poetry is the same as my +own. + + We met at the wrong time. + + You want the truth? Fine. Here it is. Don't let go. When +someone can speak to your soul, reach you in the dark places, +smile at you when the flames are rushing over you, and laugh when +the sun is on your face, don't let go. It's all in the eyes. +When you know what I mean, then it is right, and you shouldn't +give up on it. + + Ever. + +Palpable Obscure +"no one, not even the rain, has such small hands." + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0314.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0314.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9edbbdcf --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0314.txt @@ -0,0 +1,120 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Declaration of Digital Independence + ----------------------------------- + + We, the computer-literate and technologically superior, in order to + break the ignorant chains of those who hold us back, do hereby declare our + freedom from those who control what they do not understand. We wish to no + longer hear the cries of "pornography-superhighway" and "cyber-patrol". We + reject the repulsive nonsense shoved down our throats by all forms of media + telling of the dangers of piracy, pornography, and in general, free thought. + There are no "cyber-molesters" we cannot stop as a people. If you educate + your children like the good parent you should be, they should know what is + right and what is wrong, and will be wise, young judges, with free thought + and judgement. We cannot simply "block" what we find offensive, on the net, + on bulletin boards, and as we all know, in real life. We must learn to deal + with the "day to day inadequacies" of life, and we must not simply become + mindless drones of those that fight to restrict freedom. We must fight even + harder than they, and we must fight to stay free, or all right is lost. If + it's not worth fighting for, then you have already been brainwashed. + + + The internet (NOT info-superhighway, or i-way, as those terms are simply + insulting and degrading, made up by the ignorant) cannot and SHOULD NOT be + regulated. It should be allowed to make it's own rules. It is bigger than + any world you can and can't imagine, and it will not be controlled. It is + the embodiment of all that is free; free information, friendship, alliances, + materials, ideas, suggestions, news, and more. The "Cyber-Angels" are only + well-meaning do-gooders with nothing better to do than to "tattle" on those + with different ideas than they. They use entrapment, and have twisted their + ideas and values to make them apply to cyberspace, trying to rule an area + they do not understand. Fighting for the freedom to think is good, but to + fight for an idea you believe is the only true idea is itself ignorance. The + nazis believed that they were superior, in ideas and actions, and the "Cyber + Angels" are nothing more. You cannot stop freedom of thought, and they try + anyway, to convert anyone and everyone to their mode of thought. But those + of us who see clearly know that the internet is the greatest invention ever, + topping the telephone and electricity. It is a gathering of the mental body + of billions of people, and we will not be stopped. + + + The media, as it is known, is the propaganda vending machine of today. + As a whole, they trip over themselves, feeding lies to the ignorant, and we + who are not will watch too, to laugh at the stupidity that is the media. We + sit in front of our televisions, or listening to the radio, or looking at a + newspaper or a magazine, and we laugh. We laugh and laugh, because the media + has become a ridiculous pool of lies and half-truths. They say we're more + dangerous than sicknesses, and nuclear weapons, because we choose to laugh + at their ideas and boundaries, and we fight to expand them. We laugh at the + pitiful security devices used to keep knowledge from spreading, and we rip + down the beaurocratic bullshit tape they put up in virtual doorways. We call + the boards they show on the news, covered in ideas and values different than + theirs, and we like it. We like asking for a computer program that we never + would have bought, and having it show up in our mailboxes. We like leaving + messages on BBS' containing information on how to blow up a building or how + to kill a man with your bare hands. We like it, not because it scares people + or because it's "twisted" or "evil", but because it's forbidden, and lost. + You do not know what a "redbox" is? Come, friend, and I will spread the lost + knowledge. And when I tell you, you will tell another, and we will be held + together by the knowledge which we "should not know". We are the illuminati, + and the enlightened. We look not to the old sciences of textbook learning, + but to the primitive ways, of communication and experience. + + + + We are sickened by the unenlightened. We despise those who wish not to + learn, and those who read the same books, over and over again, under + different names, believing that they are learning. We are the "different", + and the "abnormal", those who are sometimes disliked because we regurgitate + the lies fed to us by the governing. Everyone has the need to know, the + curiosity of the caveman who invented fire, but some have been trained like + monkeys, not ever knowing it's there. They simply accept things, and do what + is expected of them, and this is sad. They are those who never fight back, + and never open their minds. And they are, unfortunately, usually the + governing bodies; the teachers, bosses, police, federal agents, congressmen, + senators, parents, and more. And this, my friend, must change. + + + + We will not be "voted out", and we will not be mentally disfigured. If + they had the chance, government and the media would give everyone a virtual + labotamy. Our minds to be held in chains, forced to take in what is given. + This is unacceptable. We will not be held down, by the ignorant, the + foolish, and especially the lazy. We take your textbooks and your lies, + and we put them back in the dusty storerooms where they belong. And we + share ideas, and make new ones, and sometimes ask for a hand to hold, and + not one around our throat. We see what no others can, and what no others + want to see. It is a technological revolution, and a revolution of ideas. + We will fight in battles for our freedom to think, should there be any, but + we will not start any. We are not a violent group, but our opposition + believes ideas should not be let loose to grow, and they will begin the + battle. They have no honor, stealing from us our rights, our liberty, and + our freedom of thought. And for this, we label them unforgiven... + + + - Anarchy, and the AoC... + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0315.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0315.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b52e9827 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0315.txt @@ -0,0 +1,178 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Convoluted Rants + ---------------- + +Date: 1:11 am Sat Aug 31, 1996 + +posted less than two hours ago but my mind is screaming. + +i find it ever so amazing how much goes through your mind while you are +driving. tonight's music, Tori again. this was different though, in a way +that surprised me. i don't have a good stereo in the car, only at home, +but as i played the tape, i found myself almost jumping as if someone +had startled me each time the bass resounded. + +"Looking for a savior, in these dirty streets" + +one passage caught my mind this time. since i was a block from the apartment, +I shut the stereo off after that one sentence. i think everyone is well +aquainted with my views on religion and my contempt for christianity among +other religions. after that sentence, i wondered to myself if there was a +savior out there... someone that could truly understand me. i think that is +the only way i would be saved by any means.. save me from my own mind. i sin. +all my friends know it, hell, everyone knows it. if anyone makes a big deal +out of it they are naive. everyone sins. + +i admit it. i have no problem with the morals. i take full responsibility for +my actions and don't attempt to blame them on others. i do however blame my +reasons for other's actions. + +i am a slave to my pager and cellphone. anyone can reach me at any time. its +to the point if i don't call someone back within three or four minutes, they +take it personal, or question what i was doing. where do they get the +impression they are that important? i have been giving my time and attention +for a year like that, always answering the page, always calling back. there +are some people i know that answer less than 10% of my pages for various +reasons. that same person thinks i wish them dead if i don't return their +page in one minute flat. + +i think tomorrow i will turn my pager off, turn the cell off, and keep myself +connected to the net all day. or unplug all the phones. maybe take a bottle +of something and wonder down to the creek and just sit there. think about +it, and how nice it would be... to do nothing. to sit there, breathe the +fresh air, look at the stream flowing, drowning yourself in a bottle. no +one can reach you unless they take the time to find you. sounds like a plan. + +of course, i have other plans to work that one around. return computer parts +in the morning, install linux, movie late tomorrow night. + +i want no obligations in life as far as friends go. i want unconditional +friends that will put up with me. some of my friends have done that for the +past six months. now, i want them to put up with me for my actions, not me +responding to someone else's desires. + +thinking back to my previous posts, i should probably extract them as some +form of diary. some log of my sorrow, confusion, happiness, and anger. +anything to remind me that i am alive. + +big things are happening in the future. really neat stuff. when it surfaces i +will talk about it, but can't until then. they say money burns holes in your +pocket. wonder how secrets would compare.. they burn a hole in your soul i +think. something much deeper and more primitive. + +"and the pain lingers on" + +_The Wall_, watching the movie right now. i watch it at least every 6 months +now. its to the point i am comfortable with the movie and music. i grew up +listening to it, watching it, reading it. it brings back faded half visions +of memory. "goodbye blue sky" is a good representation of where i am heading +i think. if work and stress doesn't consume me, my inner turmoil will. + +its nice to vent like this, but i don't want to give the impression that I am +looking for anything. i don't want help. i certainly don't want sympathy, and +the last thing i want to do is give guilt to anyone. even if i were to give +guilt, they wouldn't be reading this. + +so what do i want. something grand. something that strikes out and makes +people understand. i want everyone to understand something though, not just a +handful. don't even know what i want them to understand, just that I do want +them to understand. who knows, maybe i will be the prophet i seek. i doubt it +though, just takes too much and i don't know if i have that to give right +now. + +chaos is certainly neat. + +hi + +=-= + +Date: 2:26 am Sun Aug 25, 1996 + +my night. my fuckin night. or my morning given the time. + +there are days that just scream out at you that life sucks and +things are never destined to go right. + +destiny hates me. + +hurt is common in my life now. its like a shirt though, wear +it, everyone sees it, but no one says anything because they +see it so much. + +either sleep or rage is taking over my mind. i want to sleep +for a day or kill someone right now. both would be kinda +enjoyable i guess. sleep will win again i bet.. when sleep +fights with something else, it wins because i don't have +energy to do the other. + +hate. + +=-= + +Date: unknown + +Now, I can do that. Near my apartment is a nature preserve, with a nice +slow moving stream going through it. The way it sits down in some trees +in a grove gives you a near perfect escape (ie: can't see anything +manmade). You can hear cars, see a few lights, etc, but it is so damn +nice. I go down there sometimes and just wade in the cold water. + +Unfortunately, long ago I spent time with a really good friend (femme of +course), and we never really dated, but we knew each other real well... +and I spent time with her there. So, I kinda have regrets going down +there because I kinda miss having someone to talk to and confess my sins +to. (yes, i'm a sinner). + +=-= + +Date: 1:28 am Thu Aug 29, 1996 + +secrets are cool. until you have no one to share them with. then they eat you +up. they consume you. they burn you from the inside. i hate being the keeper +of secrets sometimes. i use to be the one to confess your sins to. now, most +don't, but old stuff still haunts me. + +setec astronomy + +=-= + +Date: 12:55 am Sat Aug 31, 1996 + +why do ex-friends think they can run my life? why do they even have the +audacity to even fucking try to do so? don't they understand it is +easier to shoot them than talk to them? + +hey you.. all alone sitting cold, can you hear me? + +=-= + +Date: unknown + +guilt is for amateurs + +=-= + +.d1s. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.PRISM.NET/pub/users/mercuri/zines/fuck = += FTP.WINTERNET.COM/users/craigb/fuck = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0316.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0316.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..72433b9c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0316.txt @@ -0,0 +1,98 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Drowning in Rights + ------------------ + +America, the land of opportunity, where one can enjoy the many rights +and freedoms of a democratic society. The land of rights, many rights +of which we have and can use. But have we gone too far? We are +swimming in so many rights that we may be sinking. We need to have +rights. It would be foolhardy not to. Where would this country be +without them? Another oppressed society under a ruthless dictatorship? +Quite possible. + +On the other hand, have we gone overboard with our rights? We seem to +be mired in them. It seems impossible to do or say anything without +violating somebody's rights and then getting sued by them for it. + +We have the right of freedom of speech, to voice our opinions, and boy +do we ever! We continue to argue, rant, rave, discuss, banter back and +forth over problems and issues that sit and wait for solutions ( many +for decades ). Some, we just agree to disagree on, and others just +lurk on waiting for an answer. + +We have the right to freedom of press......oh really? The government +now allows us access to information with the Freedom Of Infromation +Act. We can request documents of information of which they'll gladly +give to us, only after blacking out 99% of it, therefore rendering it +useless to its recipient. They use the ruse of "classified" or +"sensitive material to national security" to prevent you from finding +out what you wanted to know in the first place. Geez, alot of Freedom +there!! We get to read, watch, hear, surf the net, whatever we want. +Yeah right! We are slowly giving up that right because of parents that +are unwilling to monitor their own children and know want the +government to do it for them. Don't you think they'll gladly step in +and do it???? + +We have the right to bear arms........as long as the government knows +who has them, what they have, and how many. + +Criminals have many, many, many rights. Oh but victims are getting +them now, long overdue. But who's side do the scales still tip to??? +Alabama is bringing back their chain gangs for prisoners.....I say +HOORAY to them for it. But now the civil rights people are going to +take the whole thing to court for "cruel and unusual punishment" +HELLO, it is prison, not a country club. Aren't you supposed to pay +for your crimes instead of being coddled? Oh I agree that prisoners +are human beings that do deserve certain rights.......three hots and a +cot and work your ass off the rest of the time, and that's it. We +forget that many criminals are very intelligient. They use their +intelligence to manipulate the judicial system, and their unscrupulous +lawyers help them through gaping loopholes. It is their job I guess. + +Animals have rights too, and they damn well need them. What other +defense do they have against man and his need to dominate every square +foot of the earth? + +Employers in this country can't even fire incompetent employees for +fear of being sued for violating some sort of right. + +Parents can't parent their kids because they have rights too. Try to +bring home a runaway if they don't want to come home, or see what +happens when you give your kid an old fashion swat on their butt. +You'll have CPS down on you in a second. + +Minorities have rights too... blacks, hispanics,etc. Aren't we ALL +minorities in this country?? Do caucasians have rights? Women have +rights, do men? Just because I happen to be a caucasian male, don't I +have any rights? But I am a minority also, I have American Indian, +Dutch, English, and Irish blood. Just who is the majority here anyway? + +I could go on and on, but I realize this post is rather long, and in a +society where many have the attention span of a gnat, it may not even +get read to this point. But I appreciate those of you that do! I have +no solutions to many of our ills nor pretend to. Just expressing my +opinion, after all it is my right! + +Joeseattle + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0317.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0317.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b36f5d81 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0317.txt @@ -0,0 +1,286 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Revenge of Zit-Man + ------------------ + + It had been 20 years since we had encountered the hideous +Zit-Man. Jeremiah had become a very successful architect and had built +his own condominium out in the country. Brian had long since retired as +a pro basketball player after he was injured in an auto accident 15 years +before. Of course, he was set because he was paid over $4 million a year +and began receiving a pension in excess of $1 million per year. Brent +had become the all-time NFL leader in quarterback sacks for a linebacker +before switching to the WLAF, where he shattered every possible record +for linebackers. Andrew had successfully put out some of the hottest +movies of the last decades, including the first Zit-Man movie, a $25 +million grosser. Me? I'd sat at home and watched all of my stocks and +bonds skyrocket to an incredible amount. My wife and I constantly +visited our friends, and they constantly visited us. We were all well +off, and we all went out to dinner every other Friday night. The only +thing we didn't have yet were children; our wives had each had a +miscarriage and didn't want to go through the agony again. We happened +to be out on a Friday night, and we decided to stop at the local tavern +before heading home. Since we were all driving in Brian's deluxe +conversion van, we appointed a designated driver, which turned out to be +me. While I had a Coke, everyone else polished off a few assorted beers +and they became generally wasted. On the way home, in the roadside, I +spotted what appeared to be a young woman, clothes torn and tattered, +cuts up and down her leg, and apparently she had been in the ditch for +quite some time. I stopped the van to investigate and when I stepped out +of the van there was a familiar, haunting odor in the air. Half of our +passengers had passed out, so I was on my own. Suddenly the memories +shot back into me like a bullet -- the young woman in the ditch, the +ammunition store, the library, the drug store, the OXY revolver,.... and +Zit-Man. He was back. But how? We'd finished off Zit-Man twenty years +ago -- twenty years ago to THIS DAY! I knew trouble was afoot. All of a +sudden I saw a trail of a foamy sludge. I tested it; it was obviously +fresh. I didn't really know what to do. I realized that there was the +chance of Zit-Man coming back to have vengeance on us; I just couldn't +figure out why he was back, or, more importantly, HOW he was back. I +decided to conduct a little investigation. I followed the trail of +sludge into a thick wood, where I determined his den must be. All of a +sudden, I noticed that the sludge was gone; it had literaly disappeared +without a trace. Then I looked around. I saw a horrifying sight: there +were twisted animal bodies dangling by tree limbs which obviously had +been "popped". I began to realize that I had probably made a mistake by +doing this; the others were out and no one had even realized I'd left. +All of a sudden out of nowhere came Zit-Man. Twenty years had passed but +he was the same hideous creature; but how? I'd killed him twenty years +to this very night! Then he began to speak; Zit-Man couldn't speak +twenty years before! He said: "I have returned, nemesis. That day +twenty years ago is over. After the OXY entered my system I completely +evaporated -- or so you thought. You fool! You failed to realize what +happened! You left a steaming pile of goo in front of the drug store and +took it for dead! But I was able to reform with the help of a young mad +scientist; he threatened to use me but I was able to pop him before he +could stop me. I waited until this night, twenty years after I was +murdered, to return and kill you!" + + I had to act fast. I realized I could not withstand the force of +a complete pop. I remembered that Zit-Man could only be destroyed by an +OXY gun, No! He could withstand it, of course! It couldn't kill him +twice. There had to be a different method, another way to destroy it! +But it didn't matter. My main concern was avoiding him destroying me, +not to mention my poor friends in the van! What was there to do? I +started running. Zit-Man popped one and the ooze sprang after me, but I +was able to maneuver out of the way. Then he started giving chase. I +realized that the power of the ooze was not effective against rubber, so +I decided to break for the van and try and outrun him. He then suddenly +appeared in the forest and whistled, revealing hideous Zit-Creatures of +his that possessed the same qualities he did. He started laughing +grotesquely. He blubbered about how the Zit-Creatures were conceived +from his own flesh, able to withstand the effect of any weapon. I +realized that I was hopelessly lost. All of a sudden I saw a vine +hanging from a tree limb. I grabbed it and started climbing while some +of the Zit-Creatures tried to pop at me. Then I realized that my only +way of escape was through -- through the trees. I started leaping from +tree to tree, dodging ooze pops. All of a sudden a Zit-Creature popped +one and hit me in the arm. I lost all feeling in my elbow down and +realized that I had one last chance. I broke for the van and I was soon +within plain sight of it. I leaped out of the trees and raced to the van +to find my wife there, muttering. I inspected -- Zit-Man had been here! +He had left a note: "Ah! You now realize what you must pay for my +destruction twenty years ago! You thought that your friends were drunk, +eh? Try knock-out drug! I know about your little Friday night parties +and I was prepared. I think that if you look in the back seat of your +puny vehicle you might find something very unpleasant!" I went to the +back of the van and started crying. Zit-Man had killed Brent and his +wife, Betty. I couldn't believe it. All of a sudden Zit-Man was no +longer a hideous creature -- he was a personal vengeance. Brent had to +be avenged! + + I was able to wake the others and explain what happened; tears +started flowing in their eyes as well. We all vowed immediate revenge +against Zit-Man. We flew out of the can to find another note: "Ha! If +you think that puny ittle mannequin in the rear is your friend, think +again! I have your puny friends and if you want them you'll have to come +get them!" We had to do something; but what was there that could still +be done? OXY wouldn't work this time but there had to be something -- +there had to be! Then we developed a brainstorm. Obviously, there was a +way! Of course! We were thinking solely of weapons -- we didn't realize +that it, too, could be killed by means such as drowning or suffocation. +We had to develop a plan. We decided that the only thing we could do was +to try and construct a device that would trap Zit-Man. This way he could +be removed without mortally touching him. We had to work, however. +Jeremiah took the initiative, constructing some unrecognizable entity +which looked kind of like a beat-up old construction crane. We decided +that the best way to do it was to go into Zit-Man's lair and grab him +with our makeshift crane, allowing escape in the nick of time. Of +course, it wouldn't be easy -- there were still Zit-Creatures roaming +around in the forest near his lair. There had to be an easy way to stop +them -- and we developed it. Zit-Man himself was intrigued by greasy +food but he was too smart to fall for a food trap. But the Zit-Creatures +might not be, and besides, they would in all probability go ape over the +grease anyway. We made the decision to act immediately. + + We began setting grease-traps when Betty came running out of the +blue. We asked her what happened and she said she was able to escape but +Brent was still being held along with others in Zit-Man's "Cold Storage" +room. Our wives tried to comfort her and took her back to the van, but +they shortly came screaming back saying the van had vanished. This was +obviously another work of Zit-Man but we had no idea that he could have +done this. Suddenly we saw tens upon tens of Zit-Creatures racing for +the grease-surprises. The traps were working! + + With the Zit-Creatures out of the way, we were ready for the big +daddy himself. We decided that we would have to blaze a trail through +the forested area for the crane so we racedinto town and got machetes. +We returned in horror, however, as we found the crane had been looted. +It was obvious there was some other way into the lair as the van and +crane could obviously have not made it through the dense forest. We +searched for hours until we found it: a gigantic _underground_ passage. +There was apparently a form of safety device installed on the door to the +passage so we took a look at it. It was some sort of a coded which had +to have the correct code number to open the door. We had no clue as how +to crack the code so we just tried guesswork. We failed. + + We soon discovered that this was a trap. All of a sudden a siren +started sounding out of nowhere and Zit-Man appeared with _our_ crane. +He was obviously going to strike so we had to act fast. We couldn't. +The crane, specially designed for him, scooped all of us up and we found +ourselves cramped. He then started to close the jaws, which would have +crushed us with the greatest of ease. We had but one chance. We had +designed this crane for Zit-Man so he probably didn't know about the +fail-safe protection device on the front. The problem was we couldn't +get to it because we were facing the other way and the jaws were coming +down too quickly. We had to go for it. The mouth started slowly turning +around and we caugh a glimpse of the box on the front. We were in too +tight a situation to hit it with anything, though, so we had to clear out +to allow room. Somehow Brian wiggled his left arm free, took a quarter, +and with the same precision from his old basketball days, scored a direct +hit. The crane started whizzing around and stopped as it was about to +close us off for good.. + + We still had to figure out a way out of the crane mouth, however, +as we were still trapped and helpless. We managed to open it slightly to +find Zit-Man below, popping at us. Then I came up with an idea. Thw +material used in the construction of the crane was NOT necessarily +Zit-Proof, as we had imagined capturing him and THEN managing to hoist +him into a Zit-Proof Container. Besides, the non-resistant part of the +crane was the steel covering to the mouth which he had apparently failed +to operate. A popped entity streamed at the crane and hit the mouth +square, oozing out a hole in the construction. When another one came we +were able to have the mouth dissolve before getting hit. We ran off and +then we tried to get to high ground to escape his pinpoint aim. We +managed to escape the woods, but we had accomplished nothing. Then we +had it. There was only one thing we had not tried. We still had yet to +try pills. + + A truck came down the road so some of hitched a ride to the drug +store to get what we thought we would need. Being a chemistry minor in +college, I realized that an effective knock-out drug could be made that +would even knock out Zit-Man. After grabbing the materials, I started +working immediately. + + Although he had a new immunity to OXY, I realize that possible +effectiveness was always there so I mixed a formula of sleeping pills, +OXY, hydrogen peroxide, and lye. This was obviously close to a poisonous +substance for any human, and we could only hope that Zit-Man was able to +fall under a similar trap. There still, however, remained one crucial +problem: how would we get him the concoction? There had to be a way. +We knew that grease attracted him; but he wasn't stupid enough to fall +for an obvious trap. We also knew that he ate swamp material if grease +wasn't abundant; but that wouldn't work because we knew he'd catch us +dumping anything in his swamp. Then the idea came. We would have to use +the same type of procedure that we used with the OXY gun twenty years +ago. We returned to town by hitching again and proceeded to the old +ammunition depot. + + We were able to get there in the nick of time and bought another +.44 calibre and blanks. We loaded the blanks with the substance and took +a practice shot at a nearby tree. The bullet screamed out of the gun, +hit the tree, and fell to the ground, leaving not so much as a dent in +the tree. We had to find another substance to put in our lively +concoction to get positive results. Although it wasn't quite what we +were hoping for, we found it: nitro-glycerine. + + Our new substance was experimented with and when it hit the tree +this time the tree kind of half-exploded and half-disintegrated. We had +the weapon to use. Now to find Zit-Man. It wasn't that hard, though, as +Zit-Man came streaming out of the forested area with something in his +hand -- it was a live grenade pouch! We raced for cover. In the fray +the gunhad been dislodged yet retrieved by Andrew, making him our only +chance against that pitiful creature. He took a shot and missed but +ending up hitting a partitioned area of Zit-Man's den. Someone escaped +from the den and as we looked closely we could tell: it was Brent! +Zit-Man fired, popped, and hurled at us but we managed to play a good +game of dodging. Then he hit Andrew with a direct score on the hand. +The gun went flying and Andrew went tumbling. Zit-Man approached and +started laughing himself hoarse. Then he started speaking again: "Ha! +You fools thought you could defeat a superior life form! Who do you +think you are? Superheroes? I lost two. This one will not escape!" + + A grenade was thrown at point blank range at Andrew. He scurried +behind a tree as the grenade went off. He emerged black and cloudy, but +he wasn't hurt. Just then I caught sight of the gun. I lept for it as +Zit-Man was still trying to assail Andrew. Then, out of nowhere, the +crane appeared. Jeremiah was clearing it through the forest. This +distracted Zit-Man long enough for me to make a run at the gun. I picked +it up and went to fire it, but I couldn't. It was jammed. Then Zit-Man +caught sight of me. I dove as a grenade exploded behind me. Then he +threw a sea of red ooze around as though he was making a cage out of a +popper. We were trapped except for Jeremiah and Jenny in the crane. +Then Brian appeared with the van. It seemed it had been ditched in a +remote corner of the woods with the motor still running to exhaust the +fuel. The van broke through a trail of the ooze net and the crane made a +blow at Zit-Man. He was distracted again. + + I dove for the gun again, trying to unjam it. Finally all of the +bullets came tumbling out and I had to prevent a pure nitro explosion. I +reloaded the bullets in the .44 and set my sights on the distracted +Zit-Man. The crane had knocked him 25 yards into the trees of the forest +and he was extremely angry. He all of a sudden popped a huge lower zit +which flew directly at the crane. The crane keeled over with Jeremiah +and Jenny inside of it and they were helpless. I had to act fast. I +fired a shot at him but missed over his head, hitting the van. The van +gave a small explosion and Brian evacuated. The van exploded and Zit-Man +was coming after me. I had but three bullets left. I shot again but +missed left and hit another portion of his lair. It exploded and a +sticky film was rained across the forest. He started laughing again. I +had two shots left. + + Then he popped one at me. It missed, but I dropped the gun +avoiding it. Brian, Brent, Betty, Zit-Man, and I all raced for the gun +and Brian won the race. He took a point blank shot but missed badly. +Zit-Man knocked it out of his his hands -- right into mine. I had one +shot left -- a shot at point-blank range. I fired and hit him right +above the eyes -- a similar location to that of twenty years ago. All of +a sudden Zit-Man exploded, leaving an oozy trail behind him. We were all +hit by remnants of the oozy substances but managed to make it out to the +road. We flagged down a car and made straight to the hospital. + + We were able to get help to get Jeremiah and Jenny from the +crane. Brent had to stay in the hospital for three days because the +Zit-Substance had eaten away at his skin. Andrew was able to develop +another high-grossing blockbuster out of it, and he generously split his +profits with us. I only hope this book can gross as much as his movie -- +you can rest assured that I'll be splitting profits. Of course, we +really don't need much in the way of additional profits -- we plan to +have a condominium complex built for all five couples. It'll probably +cost in excess of $1 million, but it'll be worth it. Now, back to work, +trying to lick those rotten miscarriages. + + + -- murmur + written in 1991 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0318.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0318.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..808aaf9e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0318.txt @@ -0,0 +1,572 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "CIA: Conspiracies In Action" + ----------------------------- + + In order for nations to survive and remain strong, + there are certain factors and institutions which must blend + together. A nation must have a social-political structure + and a viable, functioning economic apparatus to propel it + forward. The foundation for the United States is predicated + on several variables, two of which are the Constitution, + which is a "living, growing document" and an economic system + based on free market principles, namely capitalism. For over + two hundred years, both of these systems have functioned to + create one of the greatest nations in the history of the + civilized human race. For most Americans and people of the + world, the premise of American democracy is based on a + government run by the consent of the people. Our rights are + protected by the Constitution, and the government itself + functions via a system of checks and balances. Each branch + of our government balances its' power through the others. + But something unusual occurred after World War II. A secret + or "invisible" government emerged from "the smoke and rubble + of Pearl Harbor. It was still a child when the Cold War + began after World War II, an adolescent during the 1950's, + and it reached its majority a year after President Kennedy + took office" (The Invisible Government, Wise and Ross, 1964) + It is not a formal institution. In its present state + it has grown into... "...a loose, amorphous grouping + of individuals and agencies drawn from many parts of the + visible government". This second unseen government is + responsible for carrying out the policies (foreign and + domestic) for the first or visible government. + + The primary function of the secret government is to + gather intelligence, conduct espionage, and plan and execute + secret operations all over the globe. It is not limited to + the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), although the CIA is + at its heart. There are nine other agencies that compromise + the intelligence community. In no particular order, they are + the National Security Agency, Army, Navy, and Air Force + Intelligence, the State Department's Bureau of Intelligence + and Research, the Atomic Energy Commission, and the Federal + Bureau of Investigation. The complexity and shadowy nature + of the secret government is further insulated by individuals + and businesses, some public and some ostensibly private. + This organization is making decisions regarding peace and + war completely out of public view. In fact, it is so + secretive that few, if any, of our elected officials are + involved in its decisions, and that includes the President. + In effect, the United States has two distinct foreign policy + agendas. One follows a public direction, which generally + promulgates the altruistic myth of America as the good-guy. + The other policy is carried out by the secret government and + works in the opposite direction of the public policy. + + + The premise of an intelligence gathering agency finds + its inception under President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940, + when he created the Office of Coordinator of Information. On + June 13, 1942, this agency was split into the Office of + Strategic Services and the Office of War Information. The + function of the O.S.S. was to gather information, but quickly + expanded to include special covert operations, a policy + still followed by the CIA. In September, 1945, President + Truman disbanded the OSS. Four months later, he issued an + executive order creating the National Intelligence Group + and, under it, a Central Intelligence Group, which became + the forerunner of the CIA. In 1947 the CIA was officially + created by the National Security Act, and its duties were + set forth in five specific areas, all under the auspices of + the National Security Council. To simplify these five + functions, the law appeared to give the CIA the task of + obtaining, correlating, evaluating, coordinating, and + advising the NSC. Today, the question is how could these + guidelines be so blatantly abused? The answer lies in the + "other functions" which the CIA may perform under the 1947 + Act. Because there is no specific provision for covert + political operations in the 1947 Act, the NSC issued a + "paper" in the summer of 1948 authorizing special + operations. There were two important guidelines: the + operations must be secret and they must be "plausibly + deniable by the government." + + By 1951 the CIA merged and consolidated its power to + the point where it became an operational and at times a + policy-making arm of government, Truman was clearly + disturbed by this diversion of the CIA, but it was during + his presidency that the CIA began conducting special + operations. In time, many citizens and Congressmen began + questioning the actions of the CIA, but to no avail. + Theoretically, Congress controls all appropriations to all + agencies and institutions in the United States, but not to + the CIA. In 1949 the Central Intelligence Agency Act was + passed, exempting the CIA from all Federal laws that + required the disclosure of the "functions, names, official + titles, salaries, or numbers of personnel employed by the + Agency." It gave the director of the Agency the staggering + and unprecedented power to spend money without being + accountable to anyone! The reasoning behind this Act was to + protect the field agents. Without public access to records, + vouchers, or expenditures, the identity of our agents would + remain secure and subsequently so would our national + security. + + Through the 1950's the CIA and the "invisible + government" began to acquire unprecedented strength and + further expand the scope of its operations. The emergence of + the Agency in all of its size and power is directly + correlated to the Dulles brothers and their relationship + with the federal government. Uniquely, they embodied the + dualism, and indeed the moral dilemma of the United States + foreign policy. During the Eisenhower Administration, John + Foster Dulles became the Secretary of State while his + younger brother, Allen Dulles, formerly an agent of the OSS, + became the first civilian director of the CIA. Between these + two men, they shaped, developed, and implemented two + distinct foreign policies. Under Foster Dulles the United + States formulated its policy of containment, regarding the + Soviet Unions quest to advance Communism. Publicly, the + United States would never "adopt the evil tactics of + subversion and secret manipulation practiced by the + Communist enemy." In essence, Foster Dulles reflected the + mythic America that Americans had grown accustomed to + seeing, hearing, and reading about via the media. The CIA + propaganda machine in conjunction with Hollywood movie + makers worked overtime, consciously or not, to promote this + ideal. American morality and work ethic was the epitome of + all that was good and righteous; the world as we would like + it to be. While he took this public position, his brother + was free to deal with the realities of foreign policy. He + was able to fight fire with fire. Simply put, overturning + governments whether it occurred through economic warfare, + coup d'etat, assassination, rigged elections, or even + genocide was irrelevent, as long as it paralleled the public + policy expressed by the State Department. The dark side of + the government was in effect largely kept secret from the + American people and Congress. Because of the relationship + between the Dulles brothers, the natural friction between + the State Department and the CIA never materialized. + + In order to survive, nations need strong intelligence + services. But the idea that the CIA is primarily an + intelligence-gathering operation is itself one of the + Agency's greatest propaganda triumphs. Despite its name, the + CIA's main purpose is carrying out covert operations. The + Agency is also expert at distorting intelligence to justify + its own goals. This disinformation leads to dangerous + illusions amoung our policy makers. As long as the CIA exists + in its present state, and there is no reason to believe it + will change in the near future, our government can break and + and all laws in the name of national security. + + + Perhaps one of the most important of all operations + began before the Agency was even born. Towards the end of + World War II, many Nazi leaders recognized the inevitable, + and began negotiating with the United States. These + negotiations contained two areas of primary focus: surrender + and receive safe passage to a neutral nation of their choice + and the possibilty of waging a war against the new threat + to the United States, the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union's + emerging status as a super power created a "new world + order"; a bi-polar world, and with it the onset of the Cold + War. Both of the nations would follow a foreign policy + designed to confront the other in every conceivable aspect + of foreign relations. Sports, trade agreements, space + exploration, the development of weapons of mass destruction, + imperialism (some blatant, some clandestine) spheres of + influence; the list is endless, and the regions of the world + where the confrontations took place span the entire globe. + BEfore World War II came to a conclusion, the United States + and its allies came to comprehend this potential new threat, + as did the Nazi leaders of Germany. What the Nazis had to + offer the United States was a source of intelligence + throughout Eastern Europe. As we know this region became + the buffer zone the Soviet Union sought as compensation for + its role in defeating Hitler's armies. The "iron curtain", + as Churchill called it, would separate the democratic + nations of Western Europe. The Nazi intelligence network + was already in place and the United States recognized this + opportunity. + + + The man that put this operation in motion was an agent + of the OSS, and future CIA director, Allen Dulles. In 1943 + he began secret negotiations with General Reinhard Gehlan, + Hitler's Intelligence Chief for the Eastern front. When these + secret discussions were finalized, General Gehlan was + whisked to Fort Hunt in Virginia. His espionage network, + which became known as the "Gehlan Org", would work for, and + be funded by the United States. For almost ten years, the + Gehlan Org was virtually the CIA's only source of + intelligence regarding Eastern Europe. By 1955 it evolved + into the BND, Germany's equivalent of the CIA. Many fled to + Latin America to live lives in comfort, security, and to + continue working with CIA linked groups. + + + To ensure that Western Europe remained anti-Communist + (although not necessarily democratic), the CIA organized + secret paramilitary units, with hidden stockpiles of weapons + and explosives. These units existed in Italy (operation + Gladio, 1948), France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and West + Germany. Most were directed by former SS officers and had + connections with an international fascist unbrella + organization called the World Anti-Communist League. This + organization was formed in 1961, and served as a worldwide + network for extreme right wing militants. It boasts of a + membership of extremely dubious and deviant groups. Former + Nazis, Italian terrorists, Japanese fascists, racist + Afrikaners, Latin American "death squads", United States + Congressmen, and "former" CIA agents. In fact, this + organization (WACL) played a major role in the internal + affairs of Latin America. One of the more notable operations + involved the assassination of El Salvador's Archbishop, + Oscar Romero, in 1980. Romero wrote then President Carter + regarding the numerous human rights violations occurring in + his country. The murderous rulers, led by Roberto + D'Aubuisson, an admirer of Hitler, orderered the hit. His + party, known as ARENA, is still supported by the CIA and + rules the country. Between 1979 and 1992, over 70,000 + "peasants" have been executed by the ARENA party. + + One of the more infamous operations occurred in + Guatemala in the early 1950's. By this time, the Dulles + brothers were firmly entrenched as the "czars" of American + foreign policy. Both remained partners in the Wall Street + law firm of Sullivan and Cromwell. In 1951, Jacobo Arbenz + was elected President of Guatemala by a landslide in a free + and fair election. His primary goal was to transform + Guatemala's backwards economy to a "modern capitalist + state." The first orders of business was to appropriate land + that was controlled by the Rockefeller-owned United Fruit + Company, for which they were fairly compensated. This + company was represented by none other than Sullivan and + Cromwell. They immediately embarked on a propaganda campaign + to discredit Arbenz as a Communist conspirator. The CIA + conducted extensive propaganda operations and sabotage + against the government. In 1954, unmarked CIA planes staged + a series of air raids on the capital, dropping leaflets + demanding the President's resignation. CIA-run radio + stations warned of an impending invasion by a rebel army, + who in actuality were mercenaries hired by the CIA. Arbenz + fled the country and left Guatemala in the control of a CIA + hand-picked "stooge", General Castillo Armas. Over the past + 40 years, various CIA backed regimes have murdered more than + 100,000 nationals in Guatemala. + + + While in Latin America, let's examine some of the CIA's + famous and less famous operations. In 1930, Raphael Trujillo + took power in the Dominican Republic via a coup d'etat. He + was enthusiastically backed by Washington for most of the + next 30 years. Trujillo was totally devoted to the U.S. in + the United Nations, and in return, the U.S. raised no + objection to his methods of suppressing dissent - torture + and mass murder. Throughout his years of rule, U.S. + companies enjoyed a "favorable investment climate". By the + late 1950's Trujillo controlled two-thirds of the economy. + His incessant greed threatened the "favorable investment + climate" for U.S. companies, and the U.S. government began + to worry about a "Castro-type revolution." In 1961, Trujillo + was mysteriously assassinated. His predecessor, Juan Bosch, + was deposed by a CIA-backed coup, seven months after he took + office. He was restored back to power in 1965 by a popular + countercoup, only to be deposed again by a CIA invasion. A + series of murderous regimes have maintained a "favorable + investment climate" ever since, even while the citizens of + this island nation suffer from acute poverty. + + + In 1973, the CIA destroyed the oldest functioning + democracy in South America, Chile. In 1970, a socialist by + the name of Salvador Allende was elected President. The + President of the United States, Richard Nixon, explicitly + ordered the CIA to prevent his inauguration, and failed in an + assassination plot. The CIA thus began a character + assassination campaign to create a "coup climate". The CIA + also orchestrated acts of sabotage, terror, guerrilla + warfare, and arson. Funded by U.S. corporations with Chilean + holdings, the CIA sponsored demonstrations and strikes. CIA + linked media fanned the "flames of crisis". This barrage + eventually eroded Allende's base of support, and, in + September, of 1973, he, along with several cabinet members + was assassinated. A military junta headed by General + Pinochet seized power and began to purge the nation of + radicals. Anyone who opposed his regime or was sympathetic + to Allende was tortured and killed. Three years later, an + exiled Chilean diplomat, an outspoken opponent of Pinochet + (and the CIA), was blown to pieces by a car bomb. Orlando + Letelier was not killed in Chile, but instead on the streets + of Washington, D.C., U.S.A., along with his American aide, + Ronni Moffit. CIA director George Bush told the FBI that + there had been no Chilean involvement in these assassinations. + But the CIA was quite aware of the fact that the Chilean + secret police (DINA) had sent a hit squad to Washington. + Soon after this incident, a Cuban airliner was blown up, + killing 73 passengers. Investigators into the airline + bombing found unmistakable connections to a meeting that took + place between a "former" CIA operative, other CIA and FBI + agents, as well as a violent group of CIA linked Cuban exiles. + The bombing and assassinations were planned at this meeting. + The CIA and FBI coverup is so complex that it is almost + impossible to corroborate any reliable information + regarding these incidents. + + + One of the CIA's favorite hobbies was mind control + experiments. Behavior control, as the CIA called it, became + a great priority in 1953 (after the Korean War), under a + program code named MK-ULTRA. This program was top secret and + required the highest security clearance for anyone and + everyone. Many of its files were destroyed when CIA director + Richard Helms left his post in 1973. MK-ULTRA personnel + (primarily "spooks and shrinks") tested radiation, electric + shocks, electrode implants, microwaves, ultrasound, a wide + range of drugs, and hypnosis on thousands of unsuspecting + people. How they chose their "subjects" is so difficult to + access that I cannot truly confirm all of the rumors I + became aware of. Nonetheless, hundreds of prisoners have + been used, voluntarily or not. During the mid to late 1950's, + the CIA began to experiment with LSD. For many years it + became the principle source of the drug in the U.S.. Some + insiders insist that the "hippies" were part of their great + experiment of the 1960's, but, personally, I think they used + their own drugs on themselves. How else could you explain + their bizarre behavior? LSD was also used on unsuspecting + Vietnam personnel in the field. While in the field, I heard + countless stories detailing these experiments. When I read + "Jacob's Ladder", I was truly shocked, but it only + confirmed what I thought to be true. + + + The mass murder at Jonestown, Guyana in 1978 was + actually the culmination of a massive CIA behavior + experiment. Although reports of the incident referred to it + as a "mass suicide", there is a lot of evidence that it was + indeed mass murder. The coroner's report states that the 913 + victims didn't drink cyanide laced Kool-Aid. Almost 90% of + the victims received lethal injection, while the rest were + shot. Cult leader Jim Jones had a long affiliation to the + CIA. When he formed his People's temple in Ukiah, + California, he engaged his people to infiltrate + organizations of liberal politicians. San Francisco Mayor + George Mascone and Supervisor Harvey Milk were assassinated + a week after Jonestown. Both owed political favors to Jim + Jones. When reports of murders tied to his temple began to + surface, he fled with his flock to Guyana. The Prime + Minister at the time owed his job to a 1964 CIA sponsored + coup. People that survived Jonestown reported that it was a + virtual concentration camp. Black cultists worked like + slaves enduring beatings, torture, rape, and intense doses + of drugs used in the MK-ULTRA program. When Representative + Leo Ryan, a key congressional opponent of the CIAm arrived + to investigate Jones, he was assassinated. Shortly, + thereafter, the murders began. All of Jones' white + lieutenants escaped as did hundreds of millions of dollars. + Supposedly, Jones died, but no proof has ever been established. + + + In 1959, Fidel Castro overthrew U.S.-backed Batista + dictatorship in Cuba. He immediately closed down the + casinos, brothels, and nationalized the entire economy. He + put the Mafia and U.S. based multi-nation corporations out + of business in Cuba. He made many enemies. Vice-President + Nixon, who had longstanding ties with the mob, through his + friend Bebe Rebozo, began plotting with the CIA to eliminate + Castro. Both the CIA and the mob expected Nixon to be the + next President, but JFK was elected instead. In effect, + Kennedy inherited the Bay of Pigs operation, which he was + not too fond of. Kennedy did not want U.S. military forces + to get involved, just Cuban exiles. The CIA hoped that they + could coerce him into using the U.S. military. When this + failed, so did the invasion and the whole operation. The + operation called for the Mafia to assassinate Castro at the + same time as the invasion. It was poorly planned, + uncoordinated, and poorly executed. Kennedy took full + responsibility and this incident brought him to the promise + of dismantling the CIA. + + + The assassination of JFK in Dallas in 1963 was truly + the culmination of a power struggle between Kennedy and the + secret government. After the Bay of Pigs fiasco, the + relations between the two were quite frayed at best. Kennedy + was perceived to be soft on the fight against Communism. In + fact, prior to his death, he planned to pull out American + military personnel from Vietnam, something the CIA was + unequivocally opposed to. He fired CIA director Allen + Dulles, and, because of the Bay of Pigs disaster and his + brother's crusade against organized crime (Robert F. Kennedy + was Attorney General), he was hated by the Mafia. The CIA + and the Mafia had formed an uneasy partnership in their + quest to kill Castro. Now, they shared a common enemy, John + F. Kennedy. They began to weave an elaborate web of deceit, + espionage, blackmail, and inevitably murder, after 1961. + They stretched their reach of power to the very limits, to + plan, coordinate, and execute the coverup of this operation. Lee + Harvey Oswald, the supposed "lone gunman", was a pawn in + their game of chess, as were countless others who were + sacrificed in the name of national security. The list of + players is literally a who's who if government operatives, + Mafia heirarchy, businessmen, politicians, police officers, + and citizens. The coverup is so extensive and complex that + it is conceivable that we will never know the full truth. + + + In another "assassination scenario", during the last + few years of his life, Malcolm X did several things to + antagonize the CIA. He accused the CIA of assassinating or + overthrowing several third world leaders and their + countries. In fact, he met with many of these leaders, who + were only anti-American. He believed the CIA was behind + the Lumumba assassination (Zaire, 1960), and threatened to + officially ask the U.N. to declare American blacks an + oppressed minority. But what scared the CIA the most was his + radical shift away from the separatist, militant approach to + a more moderate one. One week after his death, he was to + have met for the first time Martin Luther King, Jr.. It is + believed that both the FBI and the CIA had been spying on him in + a coordinated effort, and government agents had infiltrated + his group as well as the Nation of Islam. After his + assassination in 1965, by members of the Nation of Islam, it + was revealed that the conspiracy to kill Malcolm X also + included the FBI and CIA. The FBI and CIA decided to reach + out to the Mafia a second time, this time to plot the + assassination of King. The plot, coordination, execution, + escape, and cover-up that took place was a precision + operation. The shooter, James Earl Ray, another "stooge" + was connected to various members of all three of these + entities. Again, we will probably never know the true story + in this conspiracy or any others I have mentioned. Nor will + we ever clarify Robert F. Kennedy's assassination. Like his + brother, J.F.K., he wanted no part of Vietnam, which of + course was unthinkable for the industrial-military complex. + He pushed for equal rights for blacks and was despised by + the Mafia. People that were among those present at the scene + of J.F.K.'s assassination and subsequent probe were also + present for R.F.K.'s assassination. Is it a coincidence? + Maybe... But maybe there is a common denominator that runs + through all of these events. The evidence is too strong to + believe that the secret government does not exist. From my + personal experience in Vietnam, I witnessed first hand how + "the Company" or "the Agency" operates. + + By now it is apparent to the reader, of the extensive + scope of power the intelligence community, and in + particular, the CIA have. Long before the U.S. military got + directly involved there, Vietnam was the CIA's war. At + first, they waged a fully operational clandestine war using + locals, mercenaries, and French and Korean soldiers. They + had the largest "private" airline in the world at the time, + called Air America, but this effort proved to be in vain. + The only way to free the region of the Communist plague was + to fully involve the U.S. military. To do this, they had to + create a favorable environment both in the region and at + home. They accomplished both. Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand + were home to several large, very secret, military + installations. From these "bases of operations", the CIA + could monitor the activities in both the North and South + Vietnam. Through a propaganda campaign in North Vietnam, + over one million refugees were brought to the South by CIA + ships and planes. In the South, the CIA created the + appearance of a democratic government by writing a + Constitution and installing Ngo Dinh Diem as President. When + they no longer needed Diem, he was assassinated, as was + J.F.K.. Following the deaths of both Diem and J.F.K., they had + successfully created the favorable environment they needed + to involve the U.S. military. Within days of the J.F.K. + assassination, newly installed President Johnson reversed + J.F.K.'s plans to withdraw all military personnel. The CIA + then fabricated the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which led to + the Tonkin Resolution. + + + Even though the U.S. military officially took control + of the war after 1965, the CIA was part of the decision- + making heirarchy. Policy, logistics, strategy, troop + dispersal, air attacks in both the North and South, and + clandestine operations from Laos and Cambodia were all under + the jurisdiction of the CIA. They even dictated to the + military what to tell the U.S. media, who were stationed in + Saigon. This war was to be the crowning moment in the + history of the CIA. They finally had everything they ever + wanted: a full-blown war, with all of the trimmings. They + controlled every conceivable aspect of the war, until + January 1968. By 1968, over 550,000 troops were stationed in + Vietnam. This war had grown into the "career opportunity of + a lifetime" for the military-industrial complex, military + career officers, and the CIA. They could extend the war for + as long as they liked, while millions of dollars of tax + payers' money were spent. But in January of 1968, they made + a fatal mistake. They failed to recognize the coming of the + TET offensive. The TET new year was to be a temporary cease + fire, beginning on January 31. But military intelligence + failed miserably. Instead of a cease-fire, every military + installation in South Vietnam was simultaneously attacked, + including the U.S. embassy in Saigon. Saigon was where the + U.S. media resided. The war, in all of its color, glory, + death, and mayhem finally came to Saigon. Subsequently, all + of this was brought home to the American public via + television. The profound results of the TET-1968 changed the + nation, the people, Congress, and the policy regarding + Vietnam. It was now time to figure a way out of this + quagmire. "Peace with honor", said President Nixon. From + 1968 to 1975, at the fall of Saigon, the CIA began to expand + the war into Cambodia and cover its tracks in South Vietnam. + + + + When I arrived in the Nam in 1971, the nature of the + war had changed dramatically. My primary goal in Vietnam was + to survive, not to win the war. My first contact with field + overatives, known as "spooks", came in October of + 1971. I was newly assigned to the 25th infantry Division, + located in War Zone C, III Corps, An Loc, Co Chi Province. + We were extremely close to Cambodia, and all of my op's were + in or near Cambodia, along the Ho Chi Minh trail. My + previous unit, the 9th Infantry Division, stationed in the + MeKing Delta region near My Tho, had rotated home. I joined + this new unit primarily because of my skills as a "pointman". + Shortly after arriving at my new area of operatives (AO), I + was approached by a "military type" (spook), to "volunteer" + for a new unit. This unit was to operate in total secrecy from + the rest of the Division. Out AO was in Cambodia, deep behind + "enemy" lines. Our unit was to be affiliated with Special Forces + as an "elite mobilized unit". We were initially divided into + four-men recon teams to acquire extensive intelligence. Our + information led to air assaults by the Air Force, Army, and + Navy on suspected V.C. and N.V.A. strongholds. In time, these + recon teams became "sniper teams" or "hitsquads", as we + called them. Our targets and missions were always highly + classified. We spent days and even weeks at a time on an + operation in the bush. We were highly trained and skilled with + each member a specialist in one or two specific areas. I had + acheived the highest classification for marksmanship. My other + specialty was with knives. I remained in Vietnam for a total of + 364 days, 14 hours, and seven minutes, to be exact. I + participated in countless numbers of missions, all of which + were covert in nature, and answered only to the field + operatives running these missions. When my tour of duty was + up, I flatly refused to re-up (re-enlist), and my future + became rather tenuous with the Army. I have run into + countless problems and difficulties with the V.A. and the + Army, since I left in 1972, but that is another story! + + + by Brooklyn + typed by /NARCHY + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0319.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0319.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1baf48f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0319.txt @@ -0,0 +1,154 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + While the cats away... + ---------------------- + +My boyfriend has an interesting job, to say the least. For roughly +20 days out of the month, he's off flying somewhere. I knew this when I got +involved, in fact I pushed him to keep working like this. Having him home +all the time would drive me nuts. I need my space. He got upset one night +when we were coming home from being gone all day in San Francisco. I wanted +to go for a walk, he didn't. He threw that "You don't love me!" saying it +with a grin. He wants to spend all of his time with me. Nothing wrong with +that, BUT, somehow I couldn't make him see that I had my own identity. + +How we met is interesting, to say the least. I was getting flamed hot and +heavy on a list because I more or less am pretty opinionated and I don't +-really- care what people think of me. I was pissed, people were being +idiots. He flamed me and I flamed back. He emailed me privately, and the +next thing I know we shifted out 500k worth of email within two days. + +He pissed me off, to say the least. I knew about his girlfriend. He told me +the story. I don't know why to this day why he chose to confide so much to +a stranger (ie me). He said that he trusted me, and I wasn't afraid of who +he was. He could fuck up my world and it didn't bother me one bit. + +He also knew about my 'boyfriend' (nice way of saying my fucktoy). He would +taunt me, saying "You use him!". I would reply back in kind "Your +girlfriend uses you! That is like the pot calling the kettle black!". He +got mad. We argued. We were 'nothing' to each other. Two strangers who were +emailing each other in the middle of the night. And the night turned into +days, and the days turned into weeks. + +I couldn't take it anymore. I was becoming too dangerously close to him. I +could see my heart being broken when later on he could very rightly say +"thanks for the trip!". Fuck email/irc relationships. I knew that many +people had success with them. I did not. I need someone here. With me. + +No word from Mr Prick (my nickname for him) in days. I wonder whats going +on. I break it on down and send him email. No word. Fuck'em and feed'em +fish heads. No rice. No beans. + +I pop my email a few nights later. Mr Prick has sent me numerous letters +from another account. "You don't love me anymore!" he pouts. I sigh +heavily. Men are such children. He already has a girlfriend, what does he +want with me? I jump on the irc server that we use. He starts being even +more of a prick. I keep telling him to fuck off. He gets mad. I say look, +and tell him how I feel about us being 'friends'. Being so honest it almost +hurts. He asks to be excused and comes back and breaks it on down for me. +He is interested in me...I became paranoid...I don't trust people. + +Suddenly he wants to see me, not later, but NOW! He threw out dates he was +going to be 'close' in geography to me..I ponder about such things. "What +about your girlfriend?" I ask most innocently. "I will tell her after we +have met". Uh huh..sure...I can see where this is going..I hold back, he +pushes more, suddenly I am 'something' to him. + +I don't want anyone to know we are even friends. Its a ruthless world out +there, makes me nervous. I don't know all these people that claim to be my +"friend". Its too loosely used word, "friend", like saying "I love you". I +hate that. People say "I love you" akin to saying "Pass the sodium free +salt". Bullshit, plain bullshit. + +Next thing I know, he is pulling out all stops to ship me 2300 miles to San +Francisco. I get on said jet. I fly, I meet him at the airport. He's cute, +physically not my type..but we have 'something' other then just physical +attractiveness. We board the shuttle to go to his place..I go down on +him..he freaks..my my my..I really do come through now don't I? + +Now its a week and a half later. I am -living- with him, literally. My +stuff is being shipped across the US as we speak. Unfortunately for UPS, +they lost all of my lifes belongings (valued at 10,000 American +Dollars..majority of it computer equipment..isn't it how sickening how we +have to value everything to the dollar?). I ask for two simple things: 1. +tracking numbers for all 10 boxes and 2. A receipt so that I can be +reimbursed by my employer. I call my 'fucktoy' (whom I convinced to stay +with my stuff). Houston, we have a problem. I call UPS, big fuck up. I +wasn't listed on the manifesto in Grand Rapids to be picked up. Only +through bitching was my fucktoy able to get them to pick it up. They +didn't give him a reciept or tracking numbers. Wonderful. I call UPS, a +nice man sorted everything out. "We will call you back within the hour". I +wait. My phonelines were just installed. I wait some more. No call back. I +call back and get a stupid ass moron named Hayward Green. He asks me for my +zip code. I ask him, three times, "Do you need sending or recieving zip +codes?" He says "You called earlier, you know which one." We start arguing. +I can't get him to tell me "which" zip codes he needs. I become frustrated. +A frustrated simunye is not a happy simunye. + +I ask to speak to the supervisor. "She's out to lunch" came the reply. Uh +huh, I know there is more than one supervisor. I prove myself correct when +he goes "I will have my manager take a look at this". I pipe in "I thought +she was out to lunch?" "She is", came the reply, "this is a different +one." Uh huh, sure. I yell and scream. Sure Ms. Rabey, we will give you a +call back within the hour, utmost urgency. + +Its now three hours later, and still no call back. I call my fucktoy again. +(Or at this point, should I say, ex fucktoy) and he tells me UPS has been +calling him. Great. He's got the reciept, but no tracking numbers. I get +angry. I get really angry. I am debating on whether or not I should call +UPS, depending on how high my blood pressure is at this point. + +Back to the task at hand. My bf is out of town. I get nosy and prowl +through his machine. I wonder if I am breaking any trust laws here ;) I +found out that I am not. hehehe..Nothing interesting, in fact, he wiped it +clean before I moved. Last night I hung out with our housemates. The female +spilled the beans on him. *laugh* She likes me, and everything I *felt* +about him was confirmed through her. I wonder if men really know how silly +they actually are... ;) + +And this rant is more or less a cornicopia on whats going on in my mind +during the day. Nothing is coherent or even really related, except for very +indirect ideas. But can you imagine if life was really that simple? + +Sometimes the fact that I just upped and moved 2300 miles without a care in +the world frightens me. I wonder if I really am that careless. I wonder +about responsibilities. In June I will be 25, and that scares me. Said bf +keeps telling me that its all down hill from here on in. I take away his +sparkle fun toothpaste (which I bought no less!) and tell him to bite me. + +I don't want to grow old and I surely don't want to be old. + +And said bf is also pushing 30, which he will be next year. Its funny how +childlike we are. He loves his 'wowwies' and it is nothing for me to buy +bags of them to shut him up when he's being grouchy. He acts like a little +'puppy' and for all his bravedo, and all his talk, I wonder WHAT his +friends would think if they knew he was really like this..a big giant teddy +bear ;) + +I laugh when I think about the dangerous game I am playing. I've stolen his +heart haven't I? And now what do I intend to do with it? + +Well boys and girls, that would require a lifetime of thinking. + +simunye +5-13-97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0320.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0320.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e27e554b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0320.txt @@ -0,0 +1,87 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + We Sure Bitch A Lot + ------------------- + +We sure do bitch alot. No, I'm serious. The disenchanted youth of today +and we writers of FUCK specifically seem to relish complaining and +contemplating the worst points in life. I admit that there is much to be +disatisfied about. Life today seems to be a never ending series of +incongruous moments filled with confusion and frustration. Being young we +are members of the most disenfranchised and discriminated minority in +America. Why shouldn't we bitch? + +But perhaps there is a secondary perspective that we are overlooking. +Being young, every new difficulty and every new setback dominates that +particular moment. Without a complete background mosaic of life experience +we suffer each wrong without the benefit of comparable crisis. In simpler +terms, we lack the wisdom that is often necessary to handle the stresses +and tribulations of living. + +It seems then that we are truly born to suffer, but I would like to suggest +an alternative. Before life has another chance to slap you in the face, +take a moment now and tally up the last year. Actually open up your word +processor and write down all the successes and accomplishments of the +previous twelve months. If you are in the pits currently, this may be +extrordinarily difficult, but try anyway. For instance, let me offer you +a few of the items from my list to give you some ideas. + + - I read 42 books in the last 12 months including Atlas Shrugged + and Desert Solitaire, two of the most meaningful books I have + ever read. + + - I realized I was in love with the right person. + + - I took a new job and got a huge raise. + + - I built two new computers. + + - I developed my juggling hobby and performed at my first show. + + - I went back to college. + +This purpose of this list is to serve as an alternative to internalizing +your pain and to serve as a outline for your continued growth. The next +time you are dealing with some serious bullshit, take a moment and review +your list. In addition add any new entries that come to mind. If you do +this you will be able to more easily step back from your problem and view +it in a wider context. This is guaranteed to relieve stress and possibly +lead you to the solution to whatever problem is plaguing you at the moment. + +Of course one list may not be the appropiate idiom for you. For instance +I maintain a list of all books I've read and when I finished them. I keep +detailed notes on my work accomplishments as an addendum to my resume. +I keep a list of all the juggling tricks I know too. Jericho of FUCK is +another example. This man has a fucking list for everything. For instance, +he completely catalogues every idea he has for a story or essay. + +The point is, that everyone of us, no matter what the odds, has the +potential for not only happiness, but for greatness. Everyone us is +unlimited being that can accomplish whatever goal we truly desire. There +is no need to wallow in misery every time you get screwed. Simply compare +your problems to your accomplishments and you will realize the great success +that you really are. + +DeadKat + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.prism.net/zineworld/fuck/ = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0321.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0321.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..414a615b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0321.txt @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + I don't like chick-flicks + ------------------------- + +How can you say that, as a guy, and not get "the look". How can you 'fess +up to the fact you don't like sappy, romantic, heart-felt films without +looking the standard issue, testosterone-fueled, remote-hogging, +car-fixing, sports-watching, Arine-cheering, guy? It's simple - I don't +like chick-flicks. + +I didn't like "Sleepless in Seattle", I didn't like "Pretty Woman", I won't +see "Steel Magnolias", and I can't STAND "Ghost". I don't like 50% of the +"romantic comedies". I did like "When Harry Met Sally", but let's not push +it. If there is woman, a man, and romance at risk facing almost +insurmountable odds, I'd just as soon be on HOLD with Microsoft tech support +than sit through the *@&%!# credits of "Beaches". + +Why? Well back off already, 'cause it's NOT for the reason you think. I +also don't need 8,300 rounds of ammo and the explosion of the Nagatomi +building to make a film; It's not because I'm "afraid to love" (hel-lo +1980's...); and it's not because I'm worried about having the 'guys' catch +me weeping at the end of "Tears of Endearment". So then, why? + +Because they are not realistic. I'd believe that "Return of the Jedi" was +based on actual events before I'd find chick-flicks believable. + +Let's take "Pretty Woman" as an example. First off, I found pairing of +Stallone and Estelle Getty more convincing in "Stop or MY Mom Will Shoot" +(and to save my credibility, no, I didn't see it...), than the billionaire +and the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold combo. Secondly, if Bill Gates can +hook up, I am POSITIVE that lonely billionaires can meet women without +resorting to prostitutes. + +It's not really the discrepancies that make these movies so bothersome +either. I'd just as soon try to explain the physical realities in a Road +Runner cartoon than take action/adventure head-to-head with romantic-drama. +I think it's the standard you are suddenly held to that makes them to +painful to bear. + +Gentlemen, how many times have you seen a click-flick with a girlfriend, +and suddenly been faced with the question, "Why don't you do that for me?" + +"Do what? Propose to a hooker?" + +"NO, I mean romance me like that." + +"I dunno...maybe because you weren't a hooker?" + +"I'M NOT SAYING THAT. I MEAN would you do all that for me?" + +"You mean pick up a hooker?" + +You get the idea. + +See one of these movies, and suddenly you're romantically inadequate. All +of the sudden you are expected to fill a room with roses, fly in by +helicopter to propose, or travel cross-country on a moped to say you're +sorry. I can't deal with the stress. At least when I see Bruce Willis +escape an explosion attached to a fire hose, I KNOW that there is NO WAY +I'll been held to that standard anytime soon. + +The closest I want to get to a chick-flick is "The Crow". Why? Because +if my girlfriend asked me "Would you come back from the dead to avenge my +death?", I could say "Yes" and sit on my laurels after that. You know +why? 'CAUSE I'LL NEVER HAVE TO! In fact, I'd be MORE than glad to send +a gang of thugs to their graves for m'lady - but cut this "meet me on top +of the Empire State at such-and-such remote-date-in-the-future" shit in +order to prove my affections. + +I've got nothing against this type of movie if I see it alone. When I'm +not watching with my girlfriend, at least I can't but it in the proper +prospective as far as being a work of fiction. But if this shit doesn't +let up, next time I see "Raiders of the Lost Ark", I'M gong to start asking +why SHE won't drink a bunch of guys in Nepal under the table, mow down a +group of Nazis with anti-aircraft gun, and find religious artifacts with +me anymore.... + +- capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0322.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0322.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ba61705e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0322.txt @@ -0,0 +1,164 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Who's Net Is It? + ---------------- + +There are a few things about the internet that you should be +aware of. The following facts and information were collected from +various articles posted to mailing lists, usenet groups, and +web pages. + +=-= + +Domain Name registration used to be handled by NSF (National Science +Foundation). + +National Science Foundation has turned domain name registration over +to Network Solutions Inc (NSI). + +NSI was purchased by Scientific Applications International Corporation +(SAIC) in May 1995 + +=-= + +Over the years SAIC's relationship with the government has had its ups +and downs. A quick check of public databases shows that: + +In 1990 SAIC was indicted by the Justice Department on 10 felony + counts for fraud in its management of a Superfund toxic cleanup + site. (SAIC pleaded guilty.) +In 1993 the Justice Department sued SAIC, accusing it of civil + fraud on an F15 fighter contract. +In May 1995, the same month SAIC purchased NSI, the company + settled a suit that charged it had lied about security system + tests it conducted for a Treasury Department currency plant in + Fort Worth, TX. (The company paid the government $125,000 to cover + the cost of the investigation as part of that settlement.) + +=-= + +SAIC's board members include: + Admiral Bobby Inman, former NSA head and deputy director of the CIA + Melvin Laird, Nixon's Secretary of Defense + retired General Max Thurman, Commander of the Panama Invasion + Donald Hicks, former head of research & development for the Pentagon + Donald Kerr, former head of the Los Alamos National Laboratory. + +Recently departed board members include + former CIA director Robert Gates + current Secretary of Defense William Perry + current CIA director John Deutch + Anita Jones, Deutch's procurement officer when he was at the Pentagon. + +=-= + +Current SAIC government contracts include: + Re-engineering information systems at the Pentagon + Automation of the FBI's computerized fingerprint identification system + Building a national criminal history information system + +=-= + +SAIC describes themselves as: (http://www.saic.com/) + + Science Applications International Corporation, SAIC, is the + largest employee-owned research and engineering company in + the United States. Based in San Diego and international in + scope, SAIC offers a broad range of expertise in technology + development and analysis, systems development and + integration, technical support services, and high technology + hardware and software products. SAIC scientists and + engineers work to solve complex technical problems of + significance to federal, commercial, and international + customers in a variety of market areas, including: Energy, + Environment, Government, Health Care Technology, Information + Technology, Internet, Telecommunications and Transportation. + + Founded by a small group of scientists in 1969, SAIC has had + a continuous record of growth in its financial performance + and technical scope. SAIC attributes its success to a + decentralized, flexible working environment which promotes + and rewards technical excellence, individual initiative, and + entrepreneurship. Our ability to attract and retain the best + qualified people, coupled with an environment that fosters + team building, has led to 27 years of sustained growth -- + with 22,254 employees, more than 350 locations world-wide, + and annual revenues exceeding $2.2 billion. + + Today, SAIC generates about 85 percent of its business + through federal government contracts. In the last few years, + the company has been transitioning its extensive experience + in advanced systems and software engineering to benefit + commercial and international clients. + +=-= + + Recent Results + + Revenues for the 1996 fiscal year ending on January 31 + totaled $2.2 billion, an increase of almost 12% over last + years total of $1.9 billion. Net earnings were $57 million, + up 17% over the prior years net earnings of $49 million. + + At years end, SAIC's firm order backlog was approximately + $1.1 billion, a 10% increase over 1995's backlog. + + This represents the 27th consecutive year of revenue and + earnings growth for SAIC, solidifying its position as one of + the most successful employee owned companies in the United + States. + + And viable SAIC certainly is. As their annual report shows, the + company, with over 20,000 employees and 450 locations around the + world, reported $1.9 billion in gross revenues in 1994. Over 90% of + its income was generated by government contracts -- more than half of + that from defense, intelligence, and federal law enforcement + contracts. + +=-= + +So what does that leave us? A net run by a bunch of spooks and ex-spooks, +all with strong ties to companies and organizations capable of doing +anything. If the SAIC wants to shut down the net, they could. If they +want to monitor all traffic and search for keywords, they can. There is +no way to stop them from controlling the routing of traffic on the net. + +Imagine, this text file gets spread to hundreds or thousands of people +over the net as it is released. There is a good chance that every time +it does, it is tripping an alarm so to speak, and being copies for later +review by a SAIC employee. That kind of monitoring by past and present +government officials seems to be a curse the net must live with now. + +Remember, anything you send on the net should be treated as if you are +handing it out on flyers at your favorite street corner. Act as if everything +you send on the net is going to be read by thousands of people. +If that bothers you, take the time to learn about encryption and ways +to protect your privacy. Become active in current politics that affect +the way the net grows. Just be aware. + + + .dis. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0323.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0323.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..243bf87e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0323.txt @@ -0,0 +1,171 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Technology and Adults - Part II + ------------------------------- + +I have felt it for a couple of months now. I fought the feelings off, but +they returned again and again. Now I can't stand it any longer. This could +be a very long piece here, but I have decided to keep it short. I just don't +fucking care any longer. + +I decided to build a new computer a few weeks ago. No problem; it's not +rocket science. So I thought. Dozens of standards, half proprietary. All +bundled with useless software you don't need or can't use. Every box has +a "Works with Windows 95" sticker on it. As if there is any other OS out +there in the sea of idiots using computers these days. The salesman couldn't +tell the difference between a CD and floppy disc. Their response to a +question they can't answer is to help another customer, leaving you with +your dick in your hand. + +There are walls and walls of CD software. They don't have FreeBSD. "We +don't get to choose what we get, it just comes in." That explains why ten +thousand CDs are on the wall, with an 85% off sale and still no one is +buying them. Three people are standing next to me. They all want FreeBSD. +Strangely, I find a copy of 2.1.6 behind a lame strip pinball game. I had +to return it the next day as I found out that particular version was +recalled due to a serious and fatal security flaw. The store knew it, but +sold it to me anyway. + +I spent serious money buying ultra-optimized components that were on the FAQ +sheet as compatible with FreeBSD. Once completed, this system could rape +your mother and stick your computer system up her ass with time to spare. +But it was not to be. See, all these fucking pieces of hardware has weird +shit to them that you never learn about until you've read all the +documentation, their web site, and have spent three hours on the phone to +tech support. End result is that I returned every single piece of hardware +I bought two to three times over. + +Every fucker I talked to assumed I had Windows 95. Ninety percent of them +had never heard of UNIX, and the ten percent that did didn't know shit about +it. One thought it was a video game. No one supported UNIX environments, +meaning you were on your own. + +A call to a friend led to a recommendation to a store that has k-rad 31337 +UNIX hardware guys. I called them and explained my problems. "Sure. No +problem. We can fix it like yesterday." I haul my 35" tower across town on +the subway, and when I get there, they didn't want to talk to me until I +told them the name of the person I talked to on the phone. "Geez, I didn't +ask." I ended up hauling my system back home. See, customers are scum and +not worthy of attention unless you know the name of the person you spoke to, +and this is not limited to just the computer world. + +I realized that all of this effort and headache was just so I could basically +read my email. Yes, a few other things, but email was a large part of it. I +wondered why I was going through all this. I thought back over the last few +months of on-line life. You know what? I decided I didn't care anymore. Fuck +computers. There is so much more to life than sitting in front of a keyboard. +I took my system, with what few parts were left, and put it in my closet. +Out of sight and out of mind. I will pull it out only if I really, really +feel like getting back on-line someday. Don't hold your breath. + +Not that I will miss much. I will not miss the thousands of losers who feel +they are so much more important now that they have an email account. People +who feel that their opinion means anything to me. The endless whining over +spam mail and people who post off-topic messages. As if hitting the delete +button is gonna cost them their left nut. The fucking losers who come out +of nowhere left and right wanting or claiming to be a hacker. And to answer +all those assholes who email me wanting me to guide them on the road to +"eliteness," here is your answer: Join a book club or get a library card. +See, if you are not buying or reading three new books a week, then you are +a lost sale to the condom companies. A gleam in the eyes of two drunk losers +who fucked around one night and got pregnant. + +The cyberlife. The superinformation highway. The digerati. The wired world. +What the fuck is this all about? And who cares about hackers hacking this or +that, child pornography, on-line scams, children downloading "inappropriate +material," email chain letters, privacy issues, etc, etc, etc. News flash: +pull the fucking plug. Now they can hack me all I want, as I have the most +secure system in the world - one that is not plugged in. + +See, my life is total chaos; a side-effect from too much time in front of +the computer, with just a touch a never being home because of my job to +boot. I have vision problems, and have for years. Never had time for glasses, +or the money. When I returned my third hard drive in as many days because of +bad quality control, which is the only consistent industry standard today, I +bought contact lenses and glasses. Now I can see. Colors are brilliant, and +the detail is like nothing I've seen in twenty years. Much better investment +than a having a hard drive to hold all my useless files from useless +software. + +I don't have two forms of ID, so I can't open a bank account at a new bank. +My old account is pretty much useless, as they change their account holder +policies on a daily basis. No consistency, no notification. You never know +what will happen until you get to the counter. They seem to forget that it +is my money. I have to prove the source of my income before I can withdraw +funds before the six day holding period. A period that didn't exist +yesterday, and I was never notified of the new policy, despite the fact +they said it was mailed out in the statement. Hmmm. I couldn't find it on +my statement. A different teller gives me my money two hours later when I +return without even flinching. Today I repeat the same shit with the teller +who didn't flinch the day before, but for different policies that came from +nowhere. + +I travel a lot. 212,000 miles this year so far, and it's only mid-may. I've +written twenty-seven checks to one airline in the last six months with no +problem. I have never bounced a single check. Last week they wouldn't take +my check because it didn't match the address on my ID. Well, I live in two +different cities. The check had a valid San Francisco address, and my ID +had a valid San Diego address. "Policy," she says. Hmmm. It was never a +problem before. Another airline takes my check with no problem. + +Continental employs the most miserable people in the industry. Short on +customer service, big on attitude. Curt and uncaring. I hold a first class +ticket and boarding pass in my hand, bought three hours ago at full fare, +and she won't let me on the plane because my name is not on the passenger +list. I told her I have valid tickets and boarding passes, and to let me +on. Not her problem. I have to check in a second time. No one smiles, no +one cares, it's all the computers fault. Call customer service, and all +they can say is that they've won many awards for customer service, so I +couldn't possibly be telling the truth. I told her to shove her awards up +her ass and dance for me like a slut. + +And let me tell you about people who use computers in their job. They should +all have their dicks cut off and shoved into their mouths, left to bleed to +death in the fucking street. Everywhere you call, the computer system is +always down. They can't help you until "somebody" fixes it. I walk into a +hotel last week. I told them I was there a month earlier. Big fucking +mistake. Never, ever, ever, never, ever tell a business that you are +anything other than a new customer; you have never been there before in your +life as far as they need to know. See, I told him this, and he thinks, "Hey, +he's been here before, so all of his information is in the computer, so I +can save him the sixty seconds of filling out the form again by looking his +stuff up on the computer." Five minutes later he is still looking for my +records. He insists on finding me in the database. The one minute I could +have saved turns into a six minute deficit. All in the name of customer +convenience. + +This last example plays out all over the world in every corner of business. +Computers were to make life easier for everyone, except no one knows how to +turn computers on, thereby losing all possible advantage of having one. I +have stayed at first class hotels, with pre-paid reservations, only to find +that they had no record of my reservation. Not until I show them the credit +card statement and argue with them for twenty minutes, while they poke around +the database in vain, they hand me a form and ask me to re-register. Why +did I bother in the first place? I have more credits on my statement than +charges, as I have double paid almost everything these days. + +Technology and adults and the bastard offspring combined when you put the +two together. Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on? + +se7en +5/17/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0324.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0324.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..979a9302 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0324.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Louie Armstrong's Sunday Afternoon + ---------------------------------- + + After going through what had seamed to be a eternity of virtual +imprisonment, I decided that I needed a change. Casting off the shadows of +my dark abode, I traveled to a place were the frozen grip of suburban hells +could not find me. + When I arrived in the promised land of downtown, it became easier to +breath the sweet car emission filled air. The sky was not filled with +yuppies judgment and expectations but instead it had taken on a +non-judgemental "I don't give a shit" blue sky. The people around me did not +walk with time's mechanical death grip, but instead walked without care or +purpose. It seemed as though here emotions were allowed to be displayed in +a way that would strangle the 60 hour, work your life away world. + The trees and birds usually ignored and abused by the rest of the week, +were now being as loud a possible to make up for lost time. +Ultra-conservative business men and bad ass bikers let go of their pride +and co-existed in traffic. Old men in tired old faces thought about lost +love and lost faces. + In the park, yuppies in stupid clothing and armed with overpriced +exercise equipment fought a futile battle with the Reaper for a few more +seconds of life. Skaters taking advantage of the virtually empty sidewalks, +took upon themselves to infest the streets and enjoy the day. + Canadian geese with Mexican tourist tans and suitcases full of souvenirs, +stood on the ice and were spoon feed by elderly and children. Office +buildings who spent most of the week nervous and stressed spent today +relaxing and preparing for Mondays onslaught. The wind, tired of being +burdened with it's collection of car noises and pointless commentary, +decided to restyle my hair in some odd fashion. + I walked into a coffee shop to feed my caffeine addiction. At the counter +there was a girl with bright and short cherry red hair and a nice smile. She +did her best not to laugh out loud at the sight of my hair or to spill my +coffee. + Believing that I had left time back in the wastes of the suburban hellhole, +I leisurely drank my coffee and let my eyes take in the afternoon. Without +reason and or warning, time caught me in my downtown nirvana and without a +shred of mercy dragged me kicking and screaming back to the cold suburban +hell. + Now I am back in this cold and unrelenting hell, clone like idiots do +horrible impressions of Beavis and Butthead, and the same dismal sky is above +my head. If it were not for that day of escape I would have most likely have +ended my pointless existence here and now with a bloody exclamation mark on +the wall. As I write this I can feel that day embrace me and for awhile keep +the trails and hells of a superficial life away from me. As I think back to +that day, I thought I recalled old Louie and his froggie voice singing that +in fact it was a wonderful world after all. + +Sick_boy +bridley@cabler.cableregina.com (ask for Sick_boy) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0325.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0325.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c2763731 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0325.txt @@ -0,0 +1,158 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Men are children + ---------------- + +That's correct. My title isn't off. No, I am not femi-nazi bitch from hell. +Men are children pure and simple. + +And where do I get off with this lovely piece of anthology? Simple. I have +dated enough men, all various backgrounds, to prove my theory correct. + +Now, this really depends on what kind of woman YOU are. If you are a simple +minded, whiny, can't move a muscle without a yes or a no from your man, +then obviously, men are not children to you. They dominate you, even the +weak ones, because of the high amount of insecurities they have. + +On the flipside, if your strong minded, independent, and have a brain, +figuring out men is a piece of cake. + +Where does my evidence come from? Like I said, I have dated enough men, +with various backgrounds to make this assumption. My proof is in the +pudding (an obviously how many of my ex's still want me back). Call me +conceited, call me a bitch, tell me to pull the poker out of my ass, I care +not young jealous person. For if I wasn't right, I wouldn't be putting my +proof down on paper. + +How are men like children? + +Lets look at my bf. He's an intelligent guy. His degree is from a fairly +prestigious university. He is a 'computers security expert'. He is well +known and feared in his work. He is arrogant, objectivistic, snobby and +very opinionated. But give me five minutes, and he is on his knee's in front +of me. + +In order to get what you want from men, you coddle them. They put up with +this 'macho male attitude' bullshit day in and day out all of their lives. +And when they date women, they have become so accustomed to being 'pricks' +that they feel that they have to be dominate in the relationship as well. +If they meet a semi-strong or higher woman, they instantly back away and +call her everything from 'illogical' to 'irrational' to 'femi-nazi bitch'! +Why? Because a 'strong' woman can see through that bullshit in less then +five minutes. We are an attack to their system, and they in turn, put all +the defenses up to deal with it. + +Men in general, from my studies of my own relationships and others +reletionships, have a hard time defining who they are. Media has warped +them so badly into being this 'male macho man' that they literally will +have to be the almighty prick from hell in order to function. They 'need' +release, but to admit that they are 'weak' or 'submissive' in any field: +bedroom, personal life, what have you, is to stipulate they are failures, +and heaven forbid that a male be a failure at something in his life. And +when women, in general, find out that the man is 'submissive', they +generally do not want a relationship with him. Women for the most part have +been bred to want the Marlboro Man, and to date RuPaul, is a little +disenchanting. + +Men are for the most part, bred to search and destroy. Look at all the mind +fuck games, the using, the abusing, and the other bullshit they do. Now +women are NOT immune to this type of attitude at all, but I am not talking +about how women are children, I am talking about men. Women for the most +part are catty bitches, but that is another rant. + +Lets superimpose a guy, no names, not a real person. We will call him +George. George is very successful at what he does. He is highly +intelligent, very strong willed in his daily life, but, he dates mostly +'weak' women. He mindfucks them because its 'easy' and women are dumb +enough to let him do it. Women for the most part all want this fantasy guy +who will not only take charge of their life, but also will take charge in +the bedroom and personal life. This is pure crap. If the man shows any +amount of 'sensitivity', the woman bitches and screams about it. If he +doesn't, she whines about how her bf/fiancee/husband is insensitive to her +needs and out comes the divorce. + +Is it any wonder that our roles in reletionships are so fucked? We ALL have +been bred to believe one thing or another from the time we are tiny tots, +and when we get old enough to make decisions, to make choices, we usually +fuck them up because we don't know what is real and what is fantasy. + +Now George flops in and out of reletionships. He meets intelligent women, +sure, there are plenty of them out there, but 'strong' women? Those are few +and far between. Someone who will not only put up with the 'bullshit' but +will also break him, if need to, to get the job done. This is no easy task. +The woman George falls in love with, has to be damned sure she wants this +type of responsibility, because if not, he will be more scared for life. +And he will in the future 'mindfuck' helpless women because he was so +badly hurt from said relationship. He needs release, and only will a +strong woman be able to give it to him. + +Now many of you will think of this is shit, but that is your personal +opinion. I have noticed, on various lists that I am on, that I if make a +rather 'independent' or 'strong' comment, I am instantly attacked. As one +woman said, its akin to having your hair pulled in the third grade. Guys do +NOT know what to do with women like me, they are enchanted on one hand +because I can usually break them in about five minutes, or they are pissed +off at me because I can break them in about five minutes. Depending on who +the person is, I can usually break them or figure them out, within (you +guessed it) five minutes. Strong women -are- a threat. Lord knows why, but +men never fail to amuse me. Bash me publicly on the list but try and seduce +me privately off list. Its such a joke its not even funny anymore. I just +toss the private mail with the rest of the losers mail for posterity. + +Now the way through a strong man's 'heart' is fuck with him.. literally. +Don't take no shit from him. When he picks on you, beat him to the punch +and argue back. If he says something that bothers you, try and talk it out, +if that doesn't work, tell him to fuck off. Don't make yourself available +to him. Other women do that already. Make yourself as humanly unavailable +as you can,even if its not the truth. Be a challenge. Be yourself. And if +you are yourself, then he will fall more easily then a plucked apple. I +realize this is a contradiction, how can you 'be yourself' but yet mind +fuck him? It is easy my friends, because it has to be part of your persona +already, or it won't work. + +Coddle him, treat him like he's the only one. Make him submit to you. Train +him to your way of sexual desires. Be a bitch when he's naughty and be a +loving wench when's he good. And never be afraid to spank his little red +wagon. + +The downside to this is that majority, if not all, of the males I have meet +react quit violently to this theory. I don't blame them, because in a +sense, if someone told me something about myself, that was inherently true, +I would and have reacted violently. You don't want anyone knowing your +secret innermost thoughts, desires or feelings known, because that is a +vulnerability, which can be dangerous. It is like hacking a box. If you +pinpoint something that is obscure, you can be powerful with your +information. And is it any wonder that 'hacking' brains is so dangerous. +You could (and I have personally) really fuck someone up with that kind of +information. + +And this my friends, is how men are like children. You have to either be +stern like his mother was or be a whore like his favorite fantasy. As +stated before, men are apt to be generally so confused as to what their +roles are, they need someone, like me, to sort them out for them, just like +children have to be taught how to define things for themselves. Its like +parenting, with the added bonus of sex. ;) + + +-simunye +5-14-97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0326.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0326.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e89352e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0326.txt @@ -0,0 +1,106 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Gossip Whore + ------------ + + It's nothing new to me or in general, but seems to be prevalent +in my life again. 'Scene politics'. Let me define a few things to make +sure we are on the same wavelength. The scene constitutes any part of +the online word, who meet via computers, phones, or in person. These +people share the same interests typically, be it hacking, phreaking, +or other reasonably specific areas involving computers. Politics in this +instance is seemingly any communications between said people. + I won't go into specific cases for this file even though there +are enough to write several books with. Why not list specific instances +to better prove my point? Because they propagate themselves in doing +so. Seems that every day some new situation arises that causes some +kind of tension or other problems between people in the scene. One of +the most ironic facets of this problem is that everyone involved in +it recognizes the problem, and claims to hate it as much as I do. Yet +it continues on, hanging above us day in and day out. + For two years now, I have had dealings with someone that lives +in my area who is part of the scene. Every week of those years I have +had to watch my back, wondering what he is doing. Outwardly we are good +friends believe it or not. In social situations or in chat rooms, we +get along just fine, maintain that we are friends, and continue on. Yet +once a month I find yet another example of him plotting or scheming for +some kind of hostile activity for me. Many times there is no direct action, +but implied threat. I don't know why I carry on as if we are friends +when I have to watch my back like I do. I guess from here on out I should +act accordingly. This example is not here to point fingers, but to remind +everyone of how accustomed we have become to the workings of this monster. + How does this happen? Forget the 'why', as that can be easily +and quickly explained as "human nature" for my purposes. As for how, +that is quite simple too. No, fuck it. Change of venue. How is not +important either. The reasons do not become the actions, so we will +not dwell on them. The issue at hand that must be realized is just that, +that it is a problem we all seem to face, and that it must end no matter +the cost. This petty bickering and continued backstabbing serves no +purpose but to alienate each other further. + Every time I pause while writing, I keep thinking to myself +that everyone reading this will know of what I speak. That this is by +no means new to anyone over three years old, and that I shouldn't waste +my time with things known to all. So let me cut this short and just +serve this reminder to everyone out there. There are no secrets, especially +when it comes to your feelings about someone else. If you dislike someone, +it will be known to them whether it communicates itself via your own +actions, or the slip of another's tongue. The bigger the secret, or +the more potent the hatred, the longer it will take to escape and find +home in new minds. But do not deceive yourself, it will escape. + In recent days I have found myself caught up in the middle +of yet another ugly situation. I was brought into the mess by the clever +manipulation of one person to another. Through a clever lie, information +was wrongfully passed that prompted one to question me, thus bringing +me into the fray. Instead of yielding to the politic monsters that +consume us, I let my mind be known and put my involvement to rest +at once. My response to the misplaced question the person posed was +less than hospitable. I did not know the person beyond recognition of +name and place, but my dagger-like response lay all doubt aside to +whether I would be part of the ugliness at hand. True, my response +could have been much less bitter, but anything less and my point +would not have been as clear as it was. + + This will be my response, my stance, on all scene politics in +the future. I will not be part of anything of the sort. Realization +that friends may be lost in the process is foremost on my mind, but +a necessary evil in the path I have chosen. If you know about what +I describe above, and are equally as sick as I, then cast away your +participation in the game. Face the consequences of your actions +as well as the penalty in doing so, but know that you are ridding +yourself of inordinant amounts of stress and removing yourself +from those tense situations. + The first response from people reading this will be that of +disbelief. Surely it can't be that easy to distance yourself from +these situations. Of course it is that easy. Why wouldn't it be? +You just have to accept that resolve and force your will upon +others. Let it be known that you will not stand for that kind of +silliness, and that you refuse to be even a neutral observer. Completely +remove yourself from the situation as fast as you can, and let things +work themselves out, without your involvement. It can be done, +and it is that simple. Seeing is believing as they say, so I encourage +you to try that. Don't let scene politics be a part of your life, +and make damn sure they don't control any aspect of it. + + .dis. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0327.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0327.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..840a2bbe --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0327.txt @@ -0,0 +1,129 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hell's Wrath + ------------ + +It started fomenting last week, peaked last night, and the flood gates opened +up this morning. I will spare you the lead up, but for a good idea, read +http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho/www/fuck0054.htm. The cool people +discussed there are the crux of this story. + +Not just niggers, but any idiot in general. Except in an unusual twist for a +non-racist person such as myself, this is gonna be about niggers. Yes. Big, +black, ugly, smelly, ass-scratching in public, hand in the waistband, +big-lipped, dumb ass, no education, can't speak English, whiny, oppressed +by the man, Nike wearing, basketball/football watching, +better-than-thou-because-I-am-an-idiot fucking spear chucking niggers. +Damn. I feel better already. + +Now, when one is pissed, one needs to carefully select the music that +expresses his rage before he takes it out on his target of the minute. In +this case, I recommend the album "The Great Southern Trendkill" by Pantera. +I am listening to this CD now as I write this. It rox my fro. + +So you can see I am pissed. I recently sat next to a few of these morons on +the subway. Two fifteen year old kids, with their pants around their knees +because they don't know how to read a size label. Sitting with their "cool +slouch." They were talking about the latest sports stars, the latest colors +of Nike shoes, the latest sports fashions. They wanted mommy to buy what +they needed to be cool because they are too stupid for anyone to hire so +they can buy this shit themselves. I was fortunate to listen to this insane +babble for over an hour. + +On another subway train ride with half of the DoC, another nigger comes on +with his boom-box blasting his rap fuck music. Pete asks him to turn it +down. He gets bent, and the whore next to him (not with him) says "I can't +believe you just said that to him. I can't believe you went there." The +argument ensues under a sign saying "No Radios" for thirty minutes as police +are called and nigger boy talks about how he's going home to get his "nine." +He's all of eighteen years old. + +I walk by two of these "cool" chicks on my way to the store. They are talking +loud like niggers always do, arguing that the other is crazy, and this or +that is "fucked up and unfair." I've heard them coming for two blocks. I pass +them with a look of horror on my face. They look at me with the "fuck you +white boy" look on their faces. Yeah, I'm the crazy one. + +Taco Bell comes out with a new chicken menu, and who do they get to promote +these items? Black people. And I'm the racist? Now a white man in Taco Bell +is as rare as the dodo bird. Ever see a dumb nigger shove a bean burrito +into their mouth with lips as fucking big as theirs? Not a pretty sight. + +I no longer go to Taco Bell. But they are everywhere. Kentucky Fried Chicken, +Nation's Burgers, "Mickey D's." Yes, that's what they call them. I heard it +last week on the way home from the airport. Three niggers arguing for an +hour on how it sucked that there were no fast food restaurants where they +lived. They had to come down to my city to eat at "Mickey D's." + +Geez, ever wonder why corporate America doesn't do business in your city? +Because your all a bunch of poor fucking misfits who destroy your own +backyards. No? What about the Rodney King riots? We laughed our fucking +asses off because you thought you were sending a message to the man. All +you did was burn your own fucking neighborhoods. I sat in my nice, white, +suburban home and laughed my ass off watching it on television. And you +complain that the five year anniversary just passed and none of the +businesses have returned to give you jobs and prosperity? You fucking +monkeys. You were their customers, and you torched them out of business. +Now they are making a killing in my nice, white, suburban neighborhood. +They care fuck all about you. + +You assholes litter your smelling, homeless asses all over MY streets. Yes, +MY streets. See, unlike you, I pay taxes. And because I don't blame my +problems on the man, and was smart enough to learn, read and write, I make +a lot of money. And I pay more taxes because of it. Excuse me if I can't +give you any spare change because all I have are hundred dollar bills in my +pocket. And why is it when I wear my Walkman, which I never leave home +without anymore so I don't have to listen to these niggers, I see them from +behind my sunglasses asking me for change? Aren't these niggers at least +smart enough to realize that if you can hear my Pantera CD from a hundred +feet away I may not be able to hear you? They ask anyway. + +Ha! I walked by two homeless niggers two days ago. They were quiet until +someone walked by with a San Francisco 49'ers t-shirt on. Then the arms +started flailing around and the loud nigger talk started about how this +sports nigger or that sports nigger was fucked, and this or that team was +better. What the fuck was this all about? See, niggers know sports. Niggers +don't know anything else. Well, that's not true. They know Nike's also. + +Uh, Ebonics. Yeah. Right. A stupid attempt by the Oakland School District to +get some federal funding in a tight budget time. "Let's get some money and +let these niggers talk as dumb as they really are." You know, you reading +this have heard of Ebonics by now. You are probably so stunned by the +stupidity of it that you still think there is a punchline in there somewhere. +Well, living in the land where it was founded, let me tell you. They are +serious. And they do talk like this out here. No punchline. It is that sad +here. + +I read a rant by Dennis Miller last week in a book. "I don't understand +racism. Why judge someone by the color of their skin when if you took the +time to know them as a human being, you can find so many other reasons to +hate them?" What you've read here is not racism. It was getting to know +these assholes as human beings. And I hate them. It just seems the assholes +I hate are all black. I will no longer take your shit you fucking losers. I +am colorblind now. I refuse to see you or ever acknowledge your existence +ever again. + + +se7en +5/17/96 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0328.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0328.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c93d5cd8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0328.txt @@ -0,0 +1,138 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + 101 Things for Kids to do Instead of Watching Television + -------------------------------------------------------- + + (In response to 20/20's 9/27/96 story) + + + 1. Play with matches + 2. Get drunk + 3. Sniff airplane glue/whiteout + 4. Stab someone + 5. Kidnap television stars & torture them for being part of the + dark television god's evil reign. + 6. Throw things at the neighborhood kids. + 7. Play "psychotic freak of nature". (gun or knife recommended) + 8. Read (Anarchist Cookbook, Satanic Bible, etc.) + 9. Pretend you can fly from roof of house. (Better if apartment). + 10. Get a job in a sweatshop. + 11. Play at park, get injured, sue the state. + 12. Punch your little sister in the head. + (If you don't have one, rent someone else's little sister.) + 13. Clean the streets (pick up the used condoms, crack vials, etc.) + 14. Chant demonic songs. + 15. Make tin foil hats to protect your family from Zhantarr. + 16. Ride the subway, selling box-cutters. + 17. "Explore" the oven. + 18. Hop up and down until you die. + 19. Become a convicted criminal's "Bendover Buddy". + 20. Watch Oprah (Not on TV, of course. Find out where she lives.) + 21. Go to the mall naked. + 22. Go to Taco Bell and NEVER LEAVE! + 23. Collect your hair, nail clippings, and drool. + 24. Draw squares in the air and just yell. + 25. Walk around the house naked. (Not your house, of course.) + 26. Mail tiny glass shards to your friends. + 27. Take a crap in the street and scream "Here comes the poopie!" + 28. Go to McDonalds' and ask girls to touch your "McNuggets". + 29. See how long you can go without bathing. + 30. Instead of watching Beavis & Butthead, BE BEAVIS & BUTTHEAD! + 31. Make an original flag, and "claim" your neighborhood. + 32. Do #31, and punch whoever comes near your flag. + 33. Learn about torture. Practice on the family pet. + 34. Make a list of things for kids to do without watching TV. + 35. Play chess, lose, and jam a Bishop in your opponent's eye. + 36. Unsupervised swimming. + 37. Find bugs, keep a record of'em, and make'm into a salad. + 38. Feed bug salad to friends. + 39. Hitchhike. + 40. Play in traffic. + 41. Search your neighborhood for tall trees and jump out of them. + 42. Go to Kmart and ask where they keep the detonation devices. + 43. Rape and pillage. + 44. Go to Toys'R'Us and ask why Geoffry the giraffe looks queer. + 45. Sacrifice animals. + 46. Make a will. (Not yours.) + 47. Tell everyone that when you grow up, you want to be Satan. + 48. Projectile vomiting. + 49. Sudden, uncontrolled urination. + 50. "Fuck you, clown!". + 51. Figure out what #50 meant. + 52. Write "EVIL" on your forehead with red ink/food coloring/etc. + 53. Put a roll of aluminum foil in the microwave. + 54. Put a hamster in the microwave. (What's that screeching noise?) + 55. Gag on people. + 56. Do the "live wire" macarena. + 57. Call people "Worthless whores" and kick them. + 58. Ask your parents what happens when you eat glass, and then say + "Ooops!" + 59. Get a chainsaw, turn it on, and spin around with your eyes closed. + 60. Play "Pimp". + 61. Play "Beat the pimp". + 62. Try to buy peoples souls. + 63. See what foods will make you crap purple. + 64. Drink a whole bottle of Nyquil. + 65. Feed Alka-Seltzer to pigeons, and stand back. + 66. Make up an imaginary friend, and claim it molested you. + 67. Eat Kool-Aid MIX. (Go ahead, it's nasty.) + 68. Collect the entire set of "Serial Killer Trading Cards". + 69. Huh huh... 69... + 70. Find dead animals. + 71. Leave dead animals on teachers' doorsteps. + 72. Get a hooker! All the cool kids do it! + 73. Get VD! All the stupid cool kids do it! + 74. Go to hacker meetings. + 75. Work for Michael Jackson. Play with his toys, blow Bubbles! + 76. Sue Michael Jackson! + 77. Make a morgue out of cardboard boxes or Lego Blocks. + 78. Play Doctor! (Kevorkian, that is.) + 79. Decorate your crackpipe. + 80. Beat yourself with a hammer (for free "Light-bright" effect). + 81. Help corrupt the other youth. + 82. Play a rousing game of "Crucifixion". + 83. Go permanently, irrevocably insane. + 84. Suck up some computer radiation (Mmmmmm... Mutation...) + 85. Lick everything you see. + 86. Try to figure out what the voices are trying to say. + (You DO hear them, don't you???) + 87. Watch "A Clockwork Orange". + 88. Call this # - 18003223884 + 89. Make sculptures out of human waste. + 90. Have Molester teach you about "Jackhammer Rape". + 91. Ride in the dryer. + 92. Watch "Sesame Street" intently for "the hidden evil commands". + 93. Set up a stand, but instead of selling lemonade, sell your sister. + 94. Make up a good excuse for your sister being missing. + 95. Smoke crayons. + 96. Get on a table, fall off, and yell "I'm Bob Dole." + 97. Eat fingerpaint. + 98. Bring home a Leper. + 99. Help me, I want to stop typing but I can't. My hands just won't stop. I think I may have to kill them, they talk about murdering me, while I'm asleep. Oh no, they know my thoughts. Help. Help. He + 100. Kill the useless bastard you're attached to. + 101. Ready the television for more watching. + + + by /NARCHY of the AoC - agentsofchaos@geocities.com + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0329.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0329.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7adae545 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0329.txt @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Losing It + --------- + +Nervous fingers clumsy undid the first few buttons on my jeans, exposing +untouched skin. Slowly I laid down on the large cold metal chair, in the +corner of the room and shut my eyes....mentally preparing myself for what +was about to happen. I felt him, inching closer, my body now tense with a +mixture of fear and anticipation. His breath against my navel, icy like a +cold winters night, sent shivers racing down my spine. Desperately I fought +to silence the voices screaming in my mind ...YES!..NO!...STOP!...GO! + +I heard his voice, "Relax this will only hurt for a minute, and its +smooth sailing from there". I tried to concentrate on the low buzzing +sound that seemed to be amplified by the four white walls. I stuck in what +became my self-induced prison. A surge of pain rushed through me with the +fierceness of a lighting bolt. To late for second thoughts...... + +FUCK...FUCK...FUCK + +He was in and continued to jab his instrument into my skin. Breaking the +thin barrier that separated us, realizing a drop of blood that slowly +trickled down my inner thigh. He insisted on rambling trying to make +light of the situation. I refused to smile, or even budge, the fear of +moving and distorting what was happening kept me firmly in place. I +became his canvas, submissive to the sting of his touch. + +After listening to the tick-tok of my wrist watch for what seemed to be +an eternity (in reality it was only forty minutes), it was over. A thick +creamy white gel covered my wound of tainted purity. + +I stood up and buckled my jeans with a new found confidence. Walking +out of that room a new-found freedom spread through me faster then +the plague, I felt as if I could fly, the only thing that kept me grounded +was the pain I still carried, a badge of experience. Walking through +the streets of the east village, I wondered how many others shared my secret. +Stained innocence a small price to pay for the orgasmic mixture of pleasure and +pain I felt at that moment. + +Although defiance is a drug more addicting then heroin; I prayed my +mother wouldn't find out. I could hear her saying, "Nice girls don't do +things like that." Standing in my room with the full moon my only +companion, I got undressed and removed the bloody napkin from my hip. +Slowly unveiling the blue rose that had become a permanent part of me. + + +-bluerose + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0330.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0330.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..beaab85d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0330.txt @@ -0,0 +1,109 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Past Revisited + ------------------ + +I haven't done this in quite awhile. + +Things have changed so much in the last month. The girl +I wanted so badly to like me in return does, yet I am not +satisfied. The girl I was so marvelously infatuated with +does not even bring a smile to my face any longer. I don't +really seem to need any female support to keep me upright. +Seems like these days I feel like I'm fading away. + +Maybe I am afraid that I don't want to develop a relationship +with someone I really care about because I will lose them +next year when I attend Western Reserve Academy. It really +is quite scary. I'll be separated from everyone and everything +that I love. I don't know why that scares me so much. I +really don't care about too many people. + +I feel like a shadow in my own world. Relationships that +used to prosper are down in the doldrums. Girlfriends of +the former have gone straight, renounced their cyberpunk +garb. They have became the uniform straights that inherit +the Earth. I spoke with them today. I was nearly overwhelmed +by the immensity of their minds that had been shattered and +disillusioned by perhaps the commercialism or perhaps the +competition that has arisen on the Internet. It's just all +a dark cloud of evil and betrayal, lies, and corporate denial. + +I lost someone else that I very much enjoyed my friendship +with for another stupid error. Just had to use my idiocy to +break up another great relationship. Had to insult one of +those whose personality I very much enjoyed, and whom hates +my guts savagely now. Not much I can do about it. There +probably is, I'm just too lazy. Maybe. + +I just spoke to my grandfather that lives out in Colorado. +I tried to humor him a bit. Sometimes I feel that elders +of the society feel a bit downtrodden and downcast in +today's world of technology and information. The gods and +contemporary values that they modeled their lives after +are by day being destructed by the malefactors of society. +Sometimes I wish I lived in a simple era. Something like +the thirties. Maybe the economy was slow, but the heartbreak +and turmoil in lives was so much less. I'm not sure how I +know this. I'm not sure really.. about anything. + +Leave me alone. That's what I want to say alot of +the time to everyone. I wake up and I'm fucking tired. +But I drag myself out of a hellacious nights sleep and +throw myself into some clothes and make a dash out of +the door trying to make it to the clang of a bell. I'm +a trained negro, in the words of Ice Cube. And hell, I'm +not even black. I guess I am special. + +I also understand that I have accomplished much. I +see that I have had many things to be proud of this +year. Constantly I try to renew my interests in a variety +of subjects and to keep abreast of developments that are +under way in all aspects of my life. I invested in a book +on organizing my personal life. Works pretty well. Seems +like it'd work. Lots of things seem that way. It'll take +time to put the theory into practice. Proactivity is a +tough course to take, and tougher one to pass. + +"She's tired and lonely, scared and depressed." Yup. +She keeps losing the one's she loved too. I remember +the days the two of us were together. But now it seems +like every tie I had to her is severed and lost in the +cybernetic void that is the Internet. Her boyfriend is +being investigated, seems like he's taking the path of +outlawish tactics, much like the others she so cleverly +manipulated into loving her. She still brings a smile +to my face. + +This girl that likes me says she is going to commit +suicide. She has the perfect life. I tell her she is +fucking stupid. Maybe I contribute to her apathy for +herself. I don't even care. + +I want to go back to the way things were but I want to +go on as well. I want to put the skeletons of the former +me far away. Never to be found. + +I'm glad I got this out. + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0331.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0331.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a4d6a733 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0331.txt @@ -0,0 +1,89 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + You speak to me in riddles, you speak to me in rhymes + ----------------------------------------------------- + +One thing I hate about my sleeping habits is that I am up, constantly. My +body clock is so wacked that half the time, I am up all hours of the night +and sleep very little. Some how or another it doesn't seem to alter my +cheery disposition though. + +But the one thing I like about this 'downtime' is that I feel alone, +literally, while the world sleeps. Living on the west coast now, watching +the clock tick hours, and knowing that the majority of the US is fast +asleep, slumbered in their beds snug as a bug in a rug. It is almost a +powerful feeling, as if its just me against the world, and that empowers +me a bit. + +When I get like this, I get very melancholy. I like reading some of my +old writings that are still private (ie not on-line), reading through +email that I sent out or received from ex-lovers. Listening to music that +sets the mood (like Sarah McLachlin). My mind starts shutting down and I +notice how that it is during this time that I can actually function at a +slightly different rate then before. + +During the day, my mind is running at such a speed that I need "to break" +in order to get relief. I need to sit back and think about things, +regardless of the relevancy of them, so that I can relax and go "yes, I am +alive after all". + +Music helps set the mood because I can then break down and 'feel' +something. All too often I have been called a 'heartless bitch" because I +can be quit mean or cold. And I know that I am quit guilty of it, and yet +I still do it anyways. Often I wonder why I still behave that way. +Sometimes, being the masochist that I am, I put myself through situations +over and over again, in my mind, analyzing why I react the way I do, +wondering why I make compensations for some people while I am merciless on +others. Wondering why I do the things I do. Folding, extracting, folding +again. + +There is something magical about the night. Something almost erotic in the +way the sky glows with stars, the world is shutting down, the air if I +stand outside feels almost silky against my skin, regardless of the +temperature. It feels almost forbidden, and in many ways, I like it like +that. It makes it more "mine". Makes me feel more "alone" and perhaps a +bit more elitest. + +This is such the perfect time for so many things. Making love. Dreaming. +Writing. Thinking. Staring off into the stars wondering about all the +million and one possibilities that could occur in your lifetime. In my +lifetime. + +This is my time. This is my world. This is my domain. This is where I can +rule and where I will survive. This is where I can be most free, to shed +all the masks and become more real to not only myself but to those I +choose to share it with me. + +This is where I dream. To shape and to discover what is going on, to see +if what I am doing, regardless of the situation, is right for me. To think +of the future, to mourn the past. To live in the moment. To love +unconditionally, to feel loved and to be loved. To feel desired. To +desire. + +Because regardless of when its said and done: +I won't be denied. + +by simunye +5-20-97 +2:25 am PST + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0332.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0332.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f29de603 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0332.txt @@ -0,0 +1,163 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + Welcome to Vietnam + ------------------ + + We left New York City's Kennedy Airport on a commercial + flight on June 28, 1971 - there were many young boys on this + flight. We flew to San Francisco, Hawaii, and Okinawa where + we transferred to a military transport C-130. As we approached + South Vietnam, the pilot came over the broadcast system, "Welcome + to DaNang, South Vietnam, it's approximately `105 outside' + and DaNang is presently `engaged in a rocket and mortar attack.' + DaNang was the largest military installation in that part of + Vietnam. Suddenly, the `top' (Staff Sergeant) screamed at + us to "gear up" in preparation to disembark the plane. Just + as suddenly, approximately 200 troops jumped up in anticipation, + hustling our "rucks" (ruck sacks with gear weighed in at about + 60-70 pounds) onto our backs. You could feel the tension build. + You could see the "flashes of light" on the darkened tarmac + as we made our approach. There was this odor permeating the + cargo section of our plane. Guys were "shitting their pants", + from the true realization of the impending doom about to engulf + us. We touched down and began to taxi away from the buildings + where the "incoming" mortars and rockets were being directed. + The back cargo door opened and the "top" and other "non-coms" + began to frantically yell instructions to us. We lurched forward + until we hit the "peta-prime" tarmac (a tar-like substance which + stuck to the soles of your boots), and began to run some 100 + meters (approximately 300 yards) to the buildings. Before we + began to "sprint" across the tarmac with full pack, the heat + came up and grabbed us like a "steam vice". Sweat was pouring + out of us like a broken runaway faucet. It suddenly dawned + on me - today was my "Graduation Day" from high school. Happy + Graduation Day - hope you learned a lot, welcome to the real + world - Vietnam. While running across the tarmac amid the + confusion and chaos, a brilliant flash of light and a deafening + sound broke my concentration. As if in slow motion, one of + the guys took a direct hit, severing his leg just above the + knee. He seemed to float through the air, landing several meters + away, from where his leg lay. His screaming from the pain and + the frantic calls for "medic", propelled the scene from slow + motion to fast forward. Someone grabbed him, then another, + and they dragged him the remaining distance. A medic scooped + up the remains of his leg and followed them into the barracks. + Thirty seconds in the Nam and he was going home without his + leg... Welcome to the Nam. Thus, our initiation to the Nam had + begun. + + Within a two hour period, we had our deployment papers + and everyone was departing for destinations unknown. The + loneliness and fear were overwhelming. There was this "grunt" + over in the corner chain-smoking cigarettes. He just sat there + staring, at nothing. When he looked up, he had this strange, + weird stare, almost like he was looking right through you. + (The Grunts in the bush called it the "thousand yard stare"). + I would see that look many more times during my tour of duty. + In fact, I had that stare for much of my time in the Nam. + + It was daylight as we approached our new home. We had + been traveling for over 36 straight hours and time was a blur. + Interestingly, as one progressed through his tour of duty, + accuracy in time became more important as we all charted the days + left before we could rotate home to the "world". When you were + officially "short" (90 days or less before rotating out), you + could tell anyone at any time how much time was left on your + tour - almost to the minute! We were going to base camp situated + next to the village of My Tho. We were in the region of South + Vietnam known as the Mekong Delta, assigned to the 9th infantry + Division. The base camp had been under attack for over 24 hours, + The men were tired, frustrated, and zonked out from the "adrenalin + high". The surge of adrenalin that one experiences during a + "fire-fight" is amazing. It carries you, propels you, almost + magically through fatigue, pain and fear. As new arrivals, + we had no idea what we were getting into. We landed and the + new guys, also referred to as: "newbe", "new guy", and the + favorite "F.N.G." (fucking-new-guy), were greeted by the order + - F.N.G.'s load the "bags" onto the chopper before reporting + for duty. The bags were body bags which contained the remains + of the dead guys going home. While handling this repulsive + task, we were reminded that we could be going home any day, + in similar fashion. I would one day learn that all of this, + and what was to come that first day was part of the process + to initiate me into the unbelievable world of the "bush". We + reported to the C.O. (Commanding Officer) bunker only to find + out that he was dead. The "Top" was acting C.O., so we found + "Top". "Top" was a "lifer" (career army soldier), and we + realized that he was terribly bigoted and ignorant. We were + immediately paired off and given our assignments. Our assignment + (myself and a black guy from Chicago) was to "bury the Gooks", + who were "hanging on the wire" (concerta wire - strung around + the perimeter of the camp). The heat in that region averaged + 107-110 daily. The bodies were bloated and decomposing due + to this intolerable heat. All I could think of was home - and + the amenities I would so desperately miss. Things like a bed, + soap, toilet paper, and flush toilets, cold liquids, a shower, + hamburgers, and any hot food. We couldn't stand the smell, + it overwhelmed us. We began to vomit violently. Naturally, + we attracted some attention from the weary grunts watching us. + We were entertaining them. After all, anything would be "funny" + considering what they had been through. They started to sit + around us, relaxing, drinking warm beer (Vietnamese or American), + or smoking joints, watching the "show" - the "F.N.G. Show". + We couldn't stop, every time we breathed in the odor...and they + howled at us - Welcome to the Nam. + + After the "show" and our assignment completed, we had two + more lessons to be learned, unbeknownst to us. "Top" called + all of the F.N.G.'s together. We stood in a semi-circle around + him and a dead V.C. "sapper". Outside of the semi-circle were + some grunts, watching us, "looking through us". "Top" pulled + out his "k-bar" (army issued knife) and proceeded to cut open + the body right down the middle. Needless to say, this didn't + sit too well with "us". He split open the rib cage, put his + hand in and said "...these here are guts!". Then suddenly, the + grunts grabbed our hands and forced them into the open body. + "Get used to them", you don't go out on a "mission" until you + can deal with it. Shock, anger, and sickness spread among us + like a plague. How could they do this to us? We're here to + help them! We were not permitted to wash our hands for the + rest of the day and night. Nighttime meant sleep, we wanted + to sleep. But first, we had to be "educated" on how to sleep + in the bunkers, with the "swamp rats". These rats were the + biggest, meanest and hungriest rats in the world. "Don't take + off your boots, they'll bite your toes." You slept wrapped + in a "cocoon"-like fashion to prevent them from biting you. + That night, the rats came out. They inspected each warm body + like a precision army. If you weren't tucked in properly, they + attacked. Well, my partner that afternoon, "Chicago" wasn't + prepared for the assault. A rat bit him on the cheek. He + jumped up screaming and all hell broke loose. We thought we + were under attack. "Chicago" ran into the compound screaming + frantically, when a shot rang out. The shot silenced "Chicago", + it almost blew his head off. He was hit by a sniper, probably + 300 meters out, from within the jungle. We didn't really sleep + for the rest of the night - or for the rest of our tour. Welcome + to the Nam - this is your "initiation." + + + + Brooklyn, and /NARCHY + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0333.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0333.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fe8eeca9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0333.txt @@ -0,0 +1,118 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + War is Hell + ----------- + + During my "tour of duty" in Vietnam, which lasted for 364 + days - 14 hours - and 7 minutes, I lived a lifetime. So much + happened in that short period of time that sometimes, it becomes + mind boggling. Going to Vietnam at 18 years old was a + tremendous culture shock. The acclimation and adaptation process + was so swift that a young man could literally go from his room + at home to a "fire-fight" in the bush, in less than 24 hours. + The culture shock was complicated by the nature of the + circumstances upon their arrival. For the guys assigned to + combat units in the field, their introduction to Vietnam was + the most traumatic. Often thrust into an area of V.C. and or + N.V.A. activity. They were literally forced to assimilate the + multitude of nuances as a requiem for survival. Your prior + training was essentially useless. Jungle life and guerrilla + warfare were primitive, barbaric, and the antithesis of American + lifestyles and culture. A F.N.G. didn't lose that label until + they earned their worth. The unwritten rule was, a new guy's + life wasn't worth as much as a combat vet. To gain your comrades + respect, you had to be "baptized under fire". In the bush, + your "buddies" were your key to survival. Everyone needed to + know that their "backs were covered" at all times. Therefore, + trust was a key ingredient. How you handled the "small stuff" + (the heat, rain, mud, bugs, rats, snakes, bad food and water) + and how you responded in a "fire-fight" were the prevailing + criteria. + + My "baptism by fire" occurred on my second day in the Nam. + When you first arrive, you count the days "in". Towards the + end of your "tour", you count backwards. How many days are + left. After experiencing and surviving my "initiation", it + was decided that I would be groomed to "walk point". Perhaps + because of my size, and athletic abilities, I was chosen. In + reality, it was because I was an F.N.G.. The man that walks + point is the one that is at the highest risk. They are vulnerable + to snipers, ambushes, trip-wires, and booby traps. Their primary + function is to lead the troops through the jungle with the least + amount of losses. The pressure on the point man was incredible + and the responsibility was to your buddies. If they were wounded + in action (W.I.A.) or killed in action (K.I.A.), subconsciously, + it became your burden. A point man needed total control, + concentration, good instincts, and a lot of luck. This was + strictly an on-the-job, learn as-you-go process, mistakes were + always costly. A point man had to develop a "skill" and a "sixth + sense" for the jungle, an "intimate relationship", if you will. + My first "op" (operation or mission) was a basic "search and + destroy" mission. We were to "hump" the bush in a pre-designated + area of operations (A.O.) to find the elusive V.C.. We + transversed several "klicks" (kilometers), through thick, hot, + wet, steamy, triple canopy jungle. Dealing with the elements + would in time become the "small stuff" you learned to disregard. + + I was walking right behind the point man. My heart was + in my mouth. I didn't know where we were going, or what (who?) + we were looking for. The jungle was hot and my ruck sack was + heavy and digging the straps into my shoulder blades. Suddenly, + shots rang out and all hell broke loose. We walked into an + ambush. This was my first experience in a fire-fight, what + grunts called a "mad-minute". Everything was happening so fast, + time was a blur. Bullets were coming out of the jungle at such + an intense rate, I thought we would all die. After a while, + we received orders to "hold our positions" until the size and + extent of the fortifications of the enemy had been accessed. + There was a temporary lull in the fighting, and we were ordered + to move ahead while additional units were called in to "flank + our positions". The strategy was simple. We were to force + the enemy out of their bunkers and as they began our retreat, + our artillery (from base camp) or assault choppers would "finish + the job". Simple strategy theoretically, but realistically, + we had tremendous difficulty. As soon as we began to advance, + they began to intensify the assault. Guys were getting hit, + screaming for a medic, while others walked into booby traps + and anti-personnel mines. The carnage was mounting and there + I was, praying real hard. It's amazing how close one gets to + God when your life is on the line. Suddenly, one of our guys + near me jumps up to throw a "frag" (fragmentation grenade). + He takes several hits to his chest and stomach and goes down, + near me. He's alive, but just barely. I know I've got to save + him. I crawl over to him, take off my ruck and begin to apply + compression bandages to his wounds, all the while, screaming + for the medic. But there would be no medic, too much "incoming" + fire and too many wounded. Eventually, the fighting slowed + down and the wounded were tended to. And eventually, evac'd + out (medical evacuation by chopper). I never knew who he was + or if he ever survived. The ground where he laid was saturated + with his blood. I was covered with mud, blood, and his "guts". + My baptism by fire was etched into my brain forever. It is + as vivid today as it was on that day. It was common to hear + the Vets say that "survival" was the only thing you had to + do in Nam. I was beginning to understand what they meant. + + + Brooklyn of AoC + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0334.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0334.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e2309278 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0334.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + old ghosts + ---------- + + [ vignette ] + + i dated this guy for a long time. he used to beat me. + it was kinda funny in a fucked up way, since at the time + i was self-abusing. (you know, cutting and burning + yourself in order to feel pain, which is better than + feeling nothing.) so, whenever the numbness started to + rush over me, i would harass him until he punched me. + once i remember being in the snow, wearing boxers and + a tee shirt. no shoes. i wasn't allowed to wear shoes + in case i ran away. i was on the ground cause he dumped + me there. i had done something like not eat the food + he brought me or some fucked up thing. he was wearing + these huge combat boots, steel toed. i remember watching + the boots hurtling toward my face and realizing that + something was going to break once they caught me square + enough. once he was done with my face he went after my + ribs and belly. again and again. i didn't say anything. + i just watched the snow fall and breathed in the cold + air, allowing the crispness to fill my lungs. + + [ vignette ii ] + + i was in the shower. i like my showers hot, so hot that + my legs are red and scalded when i get out. i hadn't + eaten in three days. (anorexia is a bitch.) i felt faint. + i knew i was gonna go. i called for my father, who + thought i had soap in my eyes. he brought me a towel, but + i couldn't see it. everything was going black. when i + didn't reach for it he whipped open the shower curtain in + time to see my eyes roll back into my head as i fell to + the hard slippery porcelain. when i awakened, my mother + gave me a glass of orange juice. i waited until she left + and i flushed it down the toilet. then i got on the scale. + 92. only 15 more pounds to go. i admired my bones in the + mirror. + + [ vignette iii ] + + i was running, running from the unit i had been assigned + to. it was christmas eve. it was cold and dark. i didn't + want to be there on christmas. they kept making me eat and + they had to watch me piss. i hated it. one of the mhw's + (mental health workers) caught up with me and threw me to + the ground. (no no no) two others grabbed my legs and they + dragged me to the isolation unit. the floor was concrete + and the walls were made out of sheet rock. there was a + single all cotton fouton in the middle of the room. it + was the perfect place, so white. i smashed the walls over + and over again with my elbows until they were blue and + swollen. i screamed, a primal rage that tore my throat. + i kicked a nurse in the stomach. they injected me and tied + me to the bed. sleep. the next morning my mother arrived + with christmas presents. my arms were torn and bloody. + my face was black and blue. how could she love me? how + could anyone? + + + Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Files through AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += Files through WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0335.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0335.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fde0e602 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0335.txt @@ -0,0 +1,138 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Possession + ---------- + +In the last week or so I have sent Dis five F.U.C.K files. This is number +six. Second one I have written in an hour. The name 'simunye' will become +synonomous with "shut up bitch!" *laugh* + +I warned him though. Pages and pages of articles I have written for my own +sheer pleasure sit on my harddrive. Once they were siting on my webpage, +but no more. I am moving everything over to a new site, and have been +toying with the idea of not putting ANYTHING up that I have written. +Sometimes it seems really pointless because after all my talk of how I +write for only myself, I have this tinge of pleasure when people tell me +that I am neat-o. Makes me feel 'accepted.' Maybe I am not so heartless +after all? + +Dis's only word is "gimme". + +Well Dis, this one is for you. + +I yawn but I am not tired. Liters of Diet Coke run through my veins. My +lungs are clouded with all the tar from my chainsmoking. My eyes feel heavy +and its late. 3:39am. + +"You know if I leave you now, it doesn't mean I will love you any less." +-Sarah McLachlin. + +I am a big Sarah fan. Have been for some time now. First heard "Possession" +back when I was working for a music store, years ago. Back then I hated +femme music. Majority of the people that worked there were your typical +'alterna-teen' groupies with the black clothes, nose piercings and +worshipping the Sarah's and the Tori's like there was no tomorrow. Drove +me up the wall. + +But then I heard "Possession" one night. I remember, I was watching MTV +and was up late at night. It was "120 Minutes". I listened to the words. +And I can remember putting down what I was reading and crying. Crying so +hard that it lasted for a good five minutes before I could get myself +under control. + +I went into a different music store the next day and bought the tape. CD's +were a luxury for me back then, hell I didn't even have a computer. + +How much her music has come to mean to me over the years. Memories, evoking +images of situations. + +Many moons later, someone contacted me on IRC. He thought it was interesting +that not only was I willing to open myself up so publicly on-line (via my +webpages). To talk about the situations, stories, events that have occurred +in my life, regardless of whether they were good or bad. Sarah came up as +the topic. We talked about her music, her ability to evoke emotions (He is +an Objectivist, which explains everything). We both agreed on one thing: we +both ironically do what we call our "Sarah Test". We throw Sarah on the +stereo and lie in bed with our significant others. And if the music can't +lift them to the ethereal world that she creates, then we both no longer +date that person. + +Possession still remains the favorite of all her songs to me. The depth, the +passion, the emotions the feelings. Just put the song on now. Chances are I +will now begin to cry. + +I have always known what I wanted from a relationship. Prince Charming and +Roark (from "The FountainHead") rolled into one. Some crazy fuck who is not +only brilliant and also his own man, but passionate and sensual as well. Do +you have ANY idea how rare that is to find? + +A memory I like to conjure up occassionaly is when I met another Sarah fan. +This was quit sometime ago. Not even a year, and yet it seems so distant and +yet close at the same time. + +We had been talking for quit a while, and we both wanted to meet. We agreed +on a time and a place, and he drove 900 miles for a weekend. I remember +pulling into our meeting place, and as I parked my car, "Possession" came +on the radio. I started crying so hard, because it was like an omen that +this was a good thing. + +When I actually 'met' him, I remember opening the door and running down the +hall. There he stood all 6'7 of him, and I did a running jump to hug him. I +remember looking into his eyes, and seeing that deep rooted passion for me +burning there. + +We listened to Sarah all weekend while making love. That mystical ethereal +kind of love that is so rare, and brings you so close to each other that +you are almost frightened by the power of it. + +Sad to say we are no longer together. I have this wonderful habit of +attracting "Intellectual Losers". The overly intelligent guys who lack no +social skills. Even a kiss is shocking to them in many aspects. One by one +they break my heart. "Your too much, your too this, your too that". And yet, +they contact me "I was wrong..I miss/need/desire/love you". By then its too +late. Someone else has taken their place and the cycle repeats itself. + + +Deep melancholy sigh. + +The last serious relationship I was in before I was in the one I am in now +lasted almost a year. He truly loved me unconditionally. Have you ever +had anyone love you unconditionally before? God, its a scary feeling. No +matter how many times we fought, broke up, or I had hurt him, he always was +there for me. One time, a few months ago, I had gone into a panic attack. +Suddenly I didn't want to exist as 'simunye'. I wanted to kill the bitch. +She (or me for that matter) had gotten me into enough trouble with mailing +lists, flame wars, you name it, that I had to kill her. But I knew, to kill +her would be killing my innermost self. + +My ex and I had been arguing for sometime previous to this incident. I kept +calling his house. He was literally the only person I could talk to at that +point. No answer. I panicked. If he left me, my life would be over. I +depended on him that much, whether I liked it or not. + +I remember driving to his house, all 20 minutes away. I had worked myself +up into such a state that I did not recognize the street I was on, even +though I had driven on it perhaps a million times. + +- simunye + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0336.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0336.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5b54cee6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0336.txt @@ -0,0 +1,206 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Anarchy's Guide to Life + ----------------------- + +Chapter 1 - Introduction + + Well, welcome to my guide to life. First off, life sucks. It has its good + points, but if you look at it as a whole, it sucks. You need to know a few + things to get through it, and I'm here to provide you with that information. + Well, there are gonna be some things in here that you may not like hearing. + And this text will probably be on television sometime, possibly being called + bad or evil, but everything in this text is the ABSOLUTE TRUTH AS I KNOW IT. + It may not be what everyone tells you, or discusses with you, but it IS THE + TRUTH AS I KNOW IT. Believe it if you want, however, as I also believe in + complete freedom of thought and information. + + + /NARCHY + + +Chapter 2 - Cheating + + Have your parents told you "Cheaters never win..."? Well, they almost always + win. And they'll end up getting better grades than non-cheaters, leading to + better jobs, and helping them gain things that those who do not cheat might + never afford. They'll have better cars, better homes, more money, and perhaps + many other things. Do yourself a favor and cheat. Cheat on tests, of every + kind, and do not get caught, and you will be much better off because of it. + Some good advice though: If you score over 90% on a test, there's no need to + cheat. And if you're going to cheat, start small, and do what works, because + if you get caught, you're dead. + + +Chapter 3 - Education + + School: Does it suck? Of course it sucks. The whole system isn't working and + yet it's still being labeled as being "not screwed-up enough" to fix. Well, + the only real education you need is the one you get from experience. Yeah, + that's right, good old fashioned experience. Go through something enough times + and you'll learn to deal with it, or even use it to your best advantage. This + is why lab experiments and hands-on training are the most important parts of + a persons education. If you learn only through textbooks and lectures, you'll + never learn anything that'll really help you, and you might even become so + bored that you'll forever dislike the subject you're learning about. A good + thing to do is when you get bored of a subject, ask the person teaching you + about it, nicely, when you're going to need that subject when you get older. + You may actually get a very nice response. If you don't (like an answer that + includes something like 'if you go into the field of...') tell the teacher + you won't be going into that field, or any like it, and ask if you can sleep + or leave during that subject's teaching. + + +Chapter 4 - Money + + Money is everything. If you examine it closely, you can buy anything with it + including love. I believe I'll be asked to explain this, so I'll do that now. + You use money to go out with people, to buy them things (that might "show your + affection"), to pay for your actions that prove your love, to pay for your + wedding, engagement rings, anniversary presents, etc... Money is good for + everything. The problem is that it's usually very hard to legally get money. + You could work, and that's not what I meant was hard. The hard part is trying + to find a decently paying job that you like, or even can tolerate. Most of + all people who work dislike their jobs, but do them anyway because they've + had a lot of trouble finding a job before and don't want to be unemployed. + Some good ways to get money are to collect things that are worth a small + amount of money and selling them when they become very popular, to sell + old toys and objects you no longer need or use anymore. Toys are usually good + for this, as are books, but don't rule out anything. + + +Chapter 5 - Freedom + + You are not free. If you were free, you wouldn't have to go to school, or do + anything that you, as a free-minded individual, do not want to do. You are + forced to learn little or nothing significant every day on the news and in + the newspapers. You are not free to carry a weapon without a license. If + you go to Rat Shack (A.K.A. Radio Shack) they'll ask for your name and address + and a lot of other information, except if you try to buy things that could be + used to commit a crime, they probably won't sell them to you, or use the + information to help convict you of a crime. A lot of people double-park, but + it's still illegal. If someone tries to hurt you, and you hurt them before + they can hurt you, you could go to jail and they could go free. You are not + free. + + +Chapter 6 - Fear + + The best motivation and only true motivation is fear. People are afraid of + many things in life, and it always affects the way they live and act. People + tend not to sit next to people they think are suspicious in public places. + If you dress differently than the rest of society, or act strangely, people + will tend to be afraid of you. If you are repeatedly bothered by a specific + type of person, whether it's their race, color, number of appendages, you will + act differently towards that type of person. As a child, parents will attempt + to rid you of fear, telling you that you have nothing to worry about, and + that they'll protect you. But they are wrong. They cannot protect you. Your + local police cannot protect you. You are the only person who can protect YOU. + You should fear your police, your government, and anyone else who has some + effect on how your life is run besides you. + + +Chapter 7 - The Media + + Hey, take a guess at who controls your mind. That's right, the media. Not + really books, or magazines even, but those whose job it is to tell you the + news. Newspapers, Radio shows, and Television are all affecting the way you + think. If you watch the news, then you will believe the news unless you take + a stand and realize that news programs want you to watch them. They give you + what you want, and they show you what you want to see. If you want to see less + violence in society, then that's what they will show you. If you are hearing + a lot about technology, then they will do a story on technology, and offer a + viewpoint or information about technology that you will think only they have. + In a news report about software piracy, the only person they questioned to + have both his voice changed AND his face blacked out was put in jail for one + and a half years, for "hacking"..???? What the hell does hacking have to do + with piracy? Is this supposed to make him an authority, on something he has + know idea about? The media is ignorant and manipulative. + + +Chapter 8 - Wake up + + In case you don't know it, all niceties in society are lies. There is no Santa + Claus, and there is no Easter Bunny. There is no savior and there is no cure. + Society is breaking down, and instead of working to rebuild it, the smart are + protecting themselves from it, and the weak are constantly pumping an illusion + of peace into society. Arm yourself. Arm yourself and learn about survival and + protection. And protect yourself, and those you love, because society IS going + to come down. + + +Chapter 9 - Speak free + + Be vulgar. Go ahead and say those words which were formally or are still not + acceptable to come out of your mouth. Release the built up tension, and the + long lost animality, and be vulgar. Learn your rights, and push, push, push + them to their limits, and then build new limits. You must do this or your + rights will slowly and quietly be taken away from you. + + +Chapter 10 - Justice + + Justice does not exist in today's society. No matter how much you work at + something, you'll always be run-over by someone who worked less to get more, + through the ignoring of rules, and laws. If you want something, take it. You + can buy it, but if you deserve it, and you cannot gain it any other way, then + take it. Our government is not working. Don't spend your life trying to make + it better, because it won't work. Either work around it, or work to destroy + it, but feeble attempts to change government (which is now a self-feeding + monster) will not work. You will fail. It used to work with us, the people, + but it does not. It does not need us to survive, and if we get in it's way, + it will trample on us. + + +Chapter 11 - Fun + + Y'know what's fun? Violence, sex, drugs, alcohol, and vandalism. Go out, get + some drugs or alcohol, and mess up your mind. It feels good. Or be a bit more + safe and commit acts of violence or vandalism. Do you go to school? Well, go + to an "Animal Rights"-type club and eat hot dogs. Rip down posters, and draw + pentagrams all over the place. Erase stuff on other peoples' computers. Go + into stores and unplug, misplace, and break things. Call up as many phone + numbers as you can and prank them. When people ask you questions, give them + wrong answers, and when they ask how you got that answer, or why, tell them + "Satan told me" or "The voices in my head tell me to kill". Call every single + company you come across and ask for free things. Spend their money. If they + refuse, tell them that they suck, and you won't buy anything else from them. + And of course, for the greatest fun, have lots and lots of sex. But protect + yourself. After all, no one cares about you, but you. + + +Chapter 12 - Death + + We all will die someday, and when we do, it will be a dark, lonely, and cold + time. We all die alone, and if you think you're going to be saved, or brought + to "heaven" or a utopia, you can forget about it. If heaven existed, then + why would the Pope want a bullet-proof car with bodyguards surrounding it? + Is he afraid to die, and go to HEAVEN??? What the hell is wrong with this + society? Wake up! You will die eventually (unless SCIENCE saves you) and you + will join your ancestors, in a hole in the ground. But if your life is so + bad that you'd rather not live, then don't get your head filled with lies + about trying to find jesus, or smelling the roses. Kill yourself. + + + ANARCHY + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0337.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0337.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..558798ff --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0337.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the rose and the bloodgarden + ---------------------------- + + i often think of myself as a rose, especially + when my inner companions sing their sweet hell + music softly within the white tissues of my + mind. a rose is pure perfection mottled by + wicked thorns that jab the tender places. this + is what i do. this is who i am. + + [ 2 of me. & they weep. ] + + i hurt the ones i love. i have two halves. one + is loving, passionate, generous. she is known + by her own name, and those who love her are + fools. the other side is heartless and cruel. + she has no name, but she is in control. bloody + words escape from the cage in her mind, and + they cut others without mercy. + + [ white & blood dripping. ] + + i know others like me. i smile tenderly at + them when they describe their inner agony. + i offer words of comfort, though the advice + i give is hollow. once i received the same + advice. ( it will pass, things get better, + life is too wonderful to pass up. ) i hated + the givers. theirs were lives of beauty and + normality. no demons spoke to them of their + dreams. no images of violence and hatred + disturbed their thoughts. only sweet solace. + i wanted to kill them for it. + + [ 2 roads & i took.. ] + + i used to find meaning in the words of the + great poets. one could say that i am a + successful young woman carving her place in + a man's world. those who know me are amazed + that i am alive. neither understands me. + it is just as well. insanity cannot be + understood by the sane. tell me, would you + dance with the devil if your own choosing? + + [ bloodgarden ] + + i live in a bloodgarden, where i can + appreciate the beauty of the rose, but i + cannot keep myself from pricking my skin + on the thorns. for i find more joy in the + pain than in the purity. perhaps you are + reading these words and cannot understand + them. be grateful if this is so. i would be. + + [ scribbling, bibbling, bibbling, scribbling.. ] + + mozart - amadeus + + + Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0338.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0338.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4a2fdf1d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0338.txt @@ -0,0 +1,203 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + EarthFuck + --------- + +Take me to your leader, earthling +Or I'll atomize your face +As if I need to waste the time +To kill the human race. + +I need to breathe quickly +So I don't have to care +About all the kinds of cancer +That I catch from this air. + +I stand in the middle of the city +In the middle of the street. +There are many hostile commuters +That I really need to meet. + +I don't come here in friendship +I don't come here in peace +I came here for your leader +To make my boss happy, at least. + +The police officer tried too hard +To force me out of the street +So I fired my weapon at his head +It is now resting in his feet. + +I love it when I do this +To these brave men in blue +They think they control the world +By giving pink papers to you? + +They are god, they are the lord +They write down the rules you break +Sometimes put you in restraints +And throw you in "the tank". + +They won't do it to me today +I'll put their heads up their ass +But I don't have to do this much +It was placed there in the past + +All the years I have been to this place +It seems to be getting worse +The Californians have taken it over +It's the Reagan/Valley curse + +Take me to your leader, earthling +I don't want to meet some fuck +I've met Reagan, Quayle, and Bush +And that should say enough. + +Your leader's are slow and boring +Can never take them with us +We already have Nixon's men +Those retards are enough. + +I'm going to D.C. tomorrow +To meet your president prick +I might actually get off this time +Cause I heard your king's a chick. + +Was it Hillary or Chelsea +I really don't recall +But I have a few hours to kill +So I might just fuck them all + +It's better than the Kennedy's +Bobby, John, and Ted +They talk too slow and Ted is fat +And two of them are dead. + +What about that Jackie girl +I wonder if she is fun +I really can't remember +From all that coke and shooting gun + +Yes, I was the mystery gunner +All alone on my grassy knoll +The C.I.A. paid me 3 million +As if I really liked my soul + +Killing is a hobby +I would have done it for free +Especially Ronald Reagan +I'm sure Jim Brady would agree + +I'd like to give Brady head +But he can't stand up to me +If he started to get hard +I'd make him wait a week + +A seven day waiting period +I can do without +Waiting to kill a republican? +That's not what I'm about + +He's a strong and powerful man +But he always needs a shove +Shoved in front of Reagan +Shoved down the steps of love + +Cuisanarts are to yuppies +As Brady is to stairs +The wheelchair is confining +The staircase didn't care + +Take me to your leader, Earthling +I don't think you can today +Because your leader is that box +You stare at and waste away + +Who is your leader now, fucker +JUDGE ITO or Nicole Brown +How about Snoop Doggy Dogg +He's always "in da house". + +How about Kurtme Kobain +He's always meant what he said +Of course in American culture +The best ones are shot in the head. + +Your leader is a purple thing +Who sings dances and plays +Who touches your kids DOWN there +When he lures them backstage. + +He's purple, fat, and gullible +He acts like your gay friend +But it's over your stupid barstool +Where your children, he will bend + +At first, there was a Mr. Rogers +and now a PURPLE DINOSAUR! +They TOUCH your kids and TEACH them well +And THEN they'll fuck some more + +Take me to your leader, asshole +So I can get some love. +With all these stupid T.V. freaks +Or alone with you and O.J.'s glove + +Your main leader that you love +Even I can't bump and grind +Because the well hung football SUPERSTAR +Is stuck in court till the end of time + +He talks on T.V. all day +So with him we can't lose +Your president is brought to you by +Freshly squeezed SIMPSON ORANGE JUICE!! + +I'm going back to my planet +Fuck you and your T.V., too +I'm taking Sandra Bullock with me +She's mine! FUCK YOU KEANU! + +Why fear aliens nuking you? +You are great for shits and grins +You are just like a T.V. show +Fun to watch once and again + +It takes no brains to watch you +You don't require a remote +Take me to your leader, Earthling? +Sorry, Bill, your shit won't float + +Your leader doesn't grab me +FUCK! HE DOESN'T EVEN COUNT +As long as I can get off, +And he gets the fuck out + +So, to Chelsea, Billy, and HER +MAY YOU ALL ROT IN HELL +O.J. SIMPSON IS YOUR LEADER +AT LEAST HIS SCANDALS SELL!!! + + +(edchrist, inc.) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0339.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0339.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4922561d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0339.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Stand By Me Day + --------------- + + This is my first writing for FUCK, so it may be a bit +unpolished... I apologize. + + At my school (I am in eighth grade), Friday May 30 is +"Stand By Me Day". On that day, some guest speakers are going +to come and "rap" (yes, that's how the notice put it) with +students, discussing such issues as "sex, drugs, and AIDS". +Also, a couple local 80's bands are rumored to come and play +on that day. Sounds interesting? Yes, it did. Until I heard +the rumor. + Apparently, students are expected to dress "nicely". +What does that mean? Good question. I posed the question to +my English teacher, Ms. X. (I don't know why I'm using +pseudonyms. Just bear with me.) She responded by saying +"dress nicer than usual". Girls should wear dresses, and boys +should wear nice pants. No jeans, if possible. "Just dress +nicely". We surmised that we were being asked to dress nicely +to impress guest speakers, and give the school a good impression +and give the principal a nice warm fuzzy feeling inside. Don't +ask. + Then, Ms. X mentioned that those students who did not +dress nicely would be placed in "a little room" for the day. +(Keep in mind that all regular classes are canceled for the +day.) This room is the equivelant of In-School Suspension, +except not as harsh. No, she was not joking. I have a memo +that only teachers were supposed to see. It's true. Why would +students be placed in a little room for not dressing nicely? +If dress is in good taste, doesn't this sound ridiculous? I +think so too. So, what to do? I don't know what I'll be +wearing that day, but rest assured it will not be "nice". Why +challenge the system? + + Why not? + + Think about it. Can the school place you in a little +room and force you to miss a "fun" (hah) day out of regular +classes if you don't wear nice clothes? If your clothes are in +good taste, they can NOT. I don't have the name of a law that +says that, but they can NOT. So, my mother wondered out loud +what this "Stand By Me Day" that she'd been hearing about was. +I told her the gist of what I planned on doing. She said "Why +are you doing this, just to rebel? What's wrong with +conformity?" (Except she used many more words to say basically +that.) If everyone were like my mom, we'd all be doing whatever +the school wanted. My decision to challenge this is not going +to be popular. But I feel it necessary to stand up for myself. +And, if I do get placed in this little room this Friday, who +knows. You might read about this in the newspapers sometime +soon. Yeah, I'm a publicity seeking weasel. But, I'm +challenging something that I see as unfair. Not everyone can +say that. + + +- Chris + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0340.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0340.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..86beb6e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0340.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + begging for love in a suicide threat + ------------------------------------ + + he watched her sleep. she looked so quiet, + so peaceful. he examined her throat, + watching the soft pulse of blood just + beneath her skin. her skin was pale, and + a thin sheet of sweat slicked her skin. + he held his hand over her mouth, just + a few centimeters from her lips. he + sighed with relief when her warm breath + reached his palm. + + she was going to live. + + he stared apprehensively at the empty + bottle on the floor. he loved his sister + dearly, but he did not know how much more + of this he could take. he looked away from + the bottle and watched the breeze push the + curtains away from the window. he closed + his eyes tightly and wondered what else + she had done. + + might as well find out. + + he had noticed earlier that blood had + seeped through her white sheets. the phone + that she had used to call him with was + beneath them, the cord snaking + menacingly from the wall jack. he took + a deep breath and lifted the sheet. + + his throat closed. + + both of her arms had been sliced + beyond recognition. there was more gash + than skin visible, and a small pool of + blood had collected beneath each arm. + the razor had been cast aside. she was so + beautiful.. how could she destroy + herself this way? + + damn her. + + he rose from the bed and retrieved the + first aid kit from the bathroom. he + gently bandaged her wounds and checked + her pulse. it looked like everything was + going to be ok. he put fresh sheets over + her and sat in the chair next to her bed. + + her journal was on the table next to him. + + guiltily he took the journal from the + table and began to read. perhaps he + could help her if he knew what she was + thinking. suddenly he was absorbed in + the details of his sister's life. he + read about everything that had ever + happened to her. he knew her innermost + thoughts, and they made him feel dirty. + + hours passed. + + he wandered the house aimlessly as dawn + broke. he never knew. he had no idea what + had happened to his sister, and he never + protected her. it was his fault. he would + never forgive himself. no wonder she + embraced death so freely. + + elaine woke, wincing at the stiffness of + the caked blood on her arms. + + she rose. the house was silent. she looked + around her room. something was different. + + (her journal. he had read her journal.) + + she ran from the room, hurriedly searching + each room in the house. she finally found + him in her den. + + "jake? jake, are you awake?" + + silence. + + she walked around one side of the chair + and screamed. half of his head was missing, + the rest of it splattered wildly on the + desk. the gun glinted peacefully in the + morning light, lightly dusted with + bits of brain and skull. + + she was free. + + + Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.toptown.com/innercircle/orchid/F.U.C.K/fuck.htm = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0341.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0341.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9cbc0c55 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0341.txt @@ -0,0 +1,145 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + In Response + ----------- + +In response to Mr. "chick-flick" hater... + +Coming from the other end of the pasture, I can sympathize with the plight +of the expectations suddenly encountered with the sappy love stories and +romantic storylines. While women suffer from more or less the same type of +unrealistic expectations of a different nature, I will first explain to a +lesser degree of the reasoning behind the meet-me-at-the-top-of-the-Empire +State-building type of psychology. + +As with anything, girls are socialized into the role-playing type of +pretending at an early age. Guys, were you ever asked to play "house" as a +child? (I'd talk about the "doctor-nurse roles, but what they evolved into +later in life has no bearing on the innocence of children). Girls played +with dolls, Barbies, and other pink frilly-boxed toys. + +Girls were taught by this role-playing to dream or fantasize about the +future. Children's stories emphasize this. Remember Cinderella and her +Prince Charming who went to every household in the land to find his true +love, or Snow White under the evil of the stepmother? What other +role-models did little girls have to place their attentions on? + +Where do you think expectations begin for the importance that is placed on +the nature of a spontaneous, unique marriage proposal? Believe me, every +possible romantic outcome was at least touched upon and dreamed about. +Even the wedding day has been fantasized about from an early age. I +understand that it doesn't hold the same importance to men as you were all +blowing up G.I. Joe men and chasing ships with Star Wars figures while most +girls dressed their Barbies and had Ken take them out on their dream dates +(and I do stress most girls, as I personally hated Barbies and owned only +the one that a hapless relative happened to give me for a birthday or +something like that). It is a time in our lives that has been formed from +the early stages of a girls childhood. + +So rest assured, my dear men, that the "look" you get when viewing a +"chick-flick" with your girlfriend may have nothing to do with you +personally, but stems from the hundreds of Disney movies watched and fairy +tales bought as a child. I am certain the "chick-flick" has as much +reception from men as the silly love songs played on the radio (how many of +you men out there really hate Chicago and Journey simply for this reason?) + +Now that I have brushed upon why these feelings are developed, I do want to +agree to some extent with my little "chick-flick" hater that romance +comedies and sappy love stories are somewhat unrealistic. Learned well +into the psychology 101 semester, these stories only tell the beginning of +these romantic, hot-to-trot couples. Nothing is said about two years down +the line, or six months, or even the following week. As heartfelt as the +ending of "Pretty Women" was and the "hooker-with-the-heart-of-gold" +routine, (and speaking about this movie because it was previously +mentioned), doesn't anyone think that because she was a hooker, it won't +cause any problems for the millionaire and the socialites that he +identifies with? Or that she will put up with his pretentious friends and +actually enjoy the snobby crowd? Possibly, but both extremes simply showed +a need to escape from the present situation (even Bill Gates has to get +tired of the same routine over and over again). So as unrealistic as it +may seem, not altogether impossible. + +Romance, however, doesn't have to include rooms of roses, or helicopter +rides, or having your sailboat in the middle of a New York street. +Something simple and unexpected is all that is realistically desired. It's +where we women suddenly become an obligation to fulfill that puts us on the +defensive. "Oh, I took you out last week for an expensive dinner, so why +should I give you a hug today?" or "I guess since it is your birthday, I +should probably take you out." We don't want to feel like what you have to +offer us is out of settling, finality or obligation. We also like to be +reminded often that these things haven't changed. + +Women thrive on the smallest, most insignificant gestures that say to us +that you are thinking about us. Not much effort is required to walk into a +jewelry store and pick up the first thing in sight, but a little note to +say "I love you" or an unexpected kiss, or a walk around the block can be +enough to keep us satisfied without you men feeling "required" to be any +certain way. + +Also, what are the major components involved within a major romance movie +anyhow? Pursuit above all other women to prove interest, attentiveness to +show the interest is maintained, and connectedness to show there is no fear +of commitment. If your woman is asking "why don't you do this for me?", +then there is probably a reason why. As I've said before, it doesn't take +much to show your lady that she is important to you. Plus, the less +importance shown to us as to where we are in our man's life, the more +important these sappy-lovey dovey-romance movies have on our lives. + +Something simple that is guaranteed to receive a response and is NEVER said +often enough is the words, "you are beautiful". Not "you look nice," or +"you look good," or "you are pretty," but "you are beautiful". There is +not much more that will receive as big a response, even if she is hesitant +to receive the compliment. + +Even so, as painful as the standard is for men to act romantic and go above +and beyond the call of duty for their significant other, the standard for +women is much higher (even excluding the emotional circumference and +insecurities women already endure). While men are expected to behave +romantically, women are expected to look romantic at all senses. + +Men, we know as well as you do that for the most of us, when we go into the +dressing room of Victoria's Secret, we do not suddenly turn into Stephanie +Seymore or Frederique. It is just not possible (as much as many of you +would like it to be). Somehow the garter just doesn't fit as well as the +model, or the bustier is a little too tight. For some women, there is +nothing to fit into the bustier that will make them look like the picture +in the catalogue. + +It wouldn't be as bad, except for the fact that now women have a standard +to fill about looking like the model in the ad. We don't. We know it. + +It doesn't help that you men spend so much time looking at these models, +whether it be in the catalogue, in a music video, on the big screen or live +at the strip bars. Even general casual conversation typically involves +some part of a woman's anatomy. We now feel that you all have visions of +Cindy Crawford or Jennie McCarthy running through your minds (or the +pictures strapped to your face) while you make love to us "common folk". +We also don't have the luxury of airbrushing and computer graphics in bed +to hide our little imperfections. And this is not supposed to make us +insecure? + +I will mention this again for emphasis sake: little things make the world +of difference. + +- spyder + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0342.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0342.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2c382b73 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0342.txt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "No Hablo Espanol" + ------------------ + +Again, someone is speaking to me in Spanish. Staring at her face, I repeat +"What?" hoping she will either realize I don't understand Spanish and try +to speak in English, or just give up. After three or four sentences, she +asks me "No Espanol?" and as usual, I say "No," while shouting "YOU LEARN +HOW TO SPEAK ENGLISH YOU LAZY BITCH!" in my head. + +I am not saying that English is superior to any other language, and I +don't believe in "Do as the Romans do." Note that I love Latin American +food, and some people ARE fully bilingual. However, I believe that one +needs to have knowledge of basic English if they live in the United +States. After all, this country consists of various ethnic groups, and we +cannot communicate with each other without a "standard" language. + +Somehow, many of the Hispanic immigrants in Miami do not even try to learn +English. They often make excuses that they don't have money to go to +school, they don't have time, they are too old to learn, and so on. Then, +I may ask how I learned some Spanish phrases without taking any classes. +TV or radio programs should be sufficient if one is really willing to +learn. There are free English courses offered on weekends, which my +parents have taken, if one wants to improve his/her conversation skills. + +Believe it or not, my college even provides Spanish-speakers special +"bilingual" programs. Some core courses are taught both in English and +Spanish. Then, I ask myself, why there is no classes taught in Japanese. +This upsets me since I suffered so much learning English when I came to +this country four years ago. If Spanish-speakers can pass the class +easily, then all the other International students should be treated the +same way (though I am glad I didn't have such an option since I could +learn English so much faster). + +They do not learn English simply because the majority of the society (at +least in Miami) speak Spanish. Provided that the local governments are run +by Spanish-speakers (mostly Cuban-Americans), they often act as though +their culture is the best, and that everyone else should follow their +rules. They seem to forget that it all started to conserve their +ethnicity, not to dominate the society. They should be criticized as well +as Americans who know nothing but English (hey, it should be so much +easier for you to learn Spanish than for me to learn English!). + +So I might start learning Spanish if they, at least, TRY to speak English +to me, without making a stupid assumption that I am a Japanese-Peruvian +who understands Spanish. Maybe I should talk back to them in Japanese next +time. Or perhaps I should move out of Miami as soon as I finish my school. +But I'm kind of attached to the taste of Cafe con Leche. Well, you never +know, I might miss the sound of "Spanglish" if I leave here. + + +June 4, 1997 +Psycho + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0343.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0343.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..56af2300 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0343.txt @@ -0,0 +1,117 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + criminal intent + --------------- + + spanky the ueber hacker giggled and + snapped and grabbed the info of yet + another lamer who was too stupid to + recognize that he was being socially + engineered. + + [ john smith, 666 lame lane, apt #205 + phone: 234.1234 dog: booboo ] + + he gave him a 'fuck with' rating of 7 + out of 10 and closed his info file. + his fingers flew over the keyboard and + ashes from his cigarette fell into the + keys. + + *_dumass_* hey spanky, got any ccs? + + not bad. he traded one cc for 30 esn/ + min pairs. dork. he made a note to + fuck with him in the future. he + swigged his coffee pensively and dialed + some of the local bbs'. they were + always good for a laugh or two. he + liked fucking with lamers. + + (two years later) + + + z, formally spanky the ueber hacker, + sat at his keyboard typing furiously. + he wore all black, contrasting sharply + with his pale skin. the handle of a + silver pistol was visible just above + his belt. he lived in a loft nowadays, + large servers and workstations spread + liberally throughout. the only light + emanated from glowing monitors. + + [ yeah, i have what you were looking + for. it was tough to get, though, + so i will be looking for a little + extra. + Z ] + + he smiled as he thought of the large + influx of clean cash to come. he + heard that paris was nice this time + of year. he could go there and chill + for awhile, maybe retire for a few + months. his reverie was broken by + the telephone. he snatched up his + headset. + + [ yeah, i'm here. just show up. ] + + wow. he was going to get his payoff + sooner than he planned. he logged + off and headed for the kitchen, where + some nice 'imported' wine awaited. + he popped the cork and poured some + into a crystal wine glass, bought + and paid for with money he 'borrowed' + from a bank in the Caymans. he took + a sip just as he heard the elevator + squealing. + + [ he's here. ] + + he went to the elevator, still + carrying his wine glass. he felt + pretty good. the door opened to + reveal an older man wearing an + expensive armani, carrying a silver + briefcase. he smiled at him and + pointed at one of his machines. + + they walked over to one of his + workstations. he sat and logged in, + fingers tapping madly. he found + the file for his client, who was + standing behind him, silent. + + then z was dead, his neck now + nonexistent. + + the client took the file and left. + + [ stupid hackers. ] + + + Palpable Obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.gif b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.gif new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6a08155d Binary files /dev/null and b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.gif differ diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..68596962 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0344.txt @@ -0,0 +1,493 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + DeBucks Sod Farm and Gift Ship + ------------------------------ + +Today, June 4th, would have been my grandfathers 85th birthday. He passed +away on December 23, 1996 and not counting the F.U.C.K files that I have +written, I have not written a peep since his funeral. + +This one is for my grandfather, John Preiss, whom I love and miss dearly. + +----------- + +When thinking about all the poetry, prose, essays, and short stories that I +have written, mainly in the last few years, I realized that I have never +mentioned my family. Not one instance of my relationships with any of my +relatives, save my younger brother. I do believe I mentioned my family's +long history of mental illness in a piece I wrote, but other then that, not +one peep about anything. As far as anyone is concerned, I was hatched by +aliens, which would work for me. + +I am writing this piece about my grandfather because of how much I love him +and regret not doing the things I wanted to do with him before he passed +on. Sometimes I hate human nature. How we are always rushing around, gotta +do this, and we have to do that. And we miss out on smelling the roses, +doing the little things like seeing the world around us, and seeing people +we haven't seen in years.... + +Living only 2 hours from my grandfather in these last few years, I always +promised on going to see him. If anyone out of my fucked up family, he +would be the one I would want to see. And something always came up: a new +job, a new boyfriend, a trip somewhere more exciting then going back home +to Port Huron, a pissant little town above Detroit. + +If you can't tell by now, I have absolutely hated where I grew up. For a +town of 30,000 people, it was like living in a town of 300 people. Everyone +knew each other, their families had all grown up together, all partied +together, got in trouble together and fucked together. Even now its the +same way. My cousin Kevin is a good example of that. He has become sort of +a 'infamous' figure in the area (at the tender age of 18) for dealing +drugs. He knew the younger brothers and sisters of the people I grew up +with, who were the kids of the people our parents grew up with. Rumors flew +hot and heavy in the area when I stepped into town, even though I hadn't +lived there for 10 years. + +No one has changed, its still white trash, eeking out a life working at +taco bell or super-k. The big excitement came when they opened up a mall in +the area that had a Mervyns as one of the corner stores. Everyone smokes +pot, drinks heavily and pops valium like its going out of style. This is +my family. I come from these people? + +Growing up, people always said that I was "just like Jack (my +grandfather)". It was considered an insult to have this said to you. I took +it as a compliment. Out of my whole family, my grandfather was the only +"real" person there. Sure he had a fucked up life, was an alcoholic, did +crazy things (like burn 12 cords of wood in the fireplace in ONE +weekend). But he was real, he was alive, he did what he wanted, not giving +a shit about what others thought of him. + +I remember being a little tot, family meetings being held in our main +living room. All 7 of my grandfathers children (with appropriate spouses) +would convey occassionaly to figure out "what to do with him". You see, my +grandmother had died in November of 1972, when I was five months old. My +grandmothers death prompted my mother to leave my father, and move us to +Port Huron. After my grandmothers death, my grandfather had a nervous +breakdown, which ended up with him in a mental hospital for a few years. +After that episode (I had recently found out that he had been in one in the +late 50's to early 60's after he had caused a death in a drunk driving +incident), he had gone "crazy". + +My grandfather was the epitome of the typical immigrant in those days. +Illiterate, obnoxious, bigoted, loud mouth, heavy drinker. His own +children shunned him. Those damn "meetings" were about getting him out of +trouble at various senior living places, lawsuits for shoddy work he had +done, his temper, and every other fallacy known to man. He was a +"disgrace", he was "dangerous", and he was "crazy". + +Now despite my fucked up, materialistic family way of seeing things, my +grandfather had great charm. He loved all his grandkids. He never forgot +any of our birthdays, christmas's or special events. His "obnoxious" charm +grew on people, and he was forever having people over to our house. He was +protective of his own children, even though they seemed to disrespect him. +I remember when one of my mothers boyfriends took to stalking her in the +early 70's. My grandfather was like a mother lion with her cub, he threw +the guy off our property and told him that if he came back, he would beat +the shit out of him. That was the last we ever saw of the ex-boyfriend. + +There are so many memories I have of growing up with my grandfather. He +lived with us for the better part of younger years, and was essentially the +father I never had. Sure my sperm doner lived in Toronto, a mere 3 hour car +ride from us, but I never saw him but for the every odd year in the months +that end in "y". + +Regardless, the images of what I grew up with what a man should be and +obviously, from the looks of it, it wasn't good. But regardless, I loved my +grandfather, as he was more real then the shallow children (including my +own mother) he produced. + +On December 23, 1996, I got a call from my Aunt Jackie that my grandfather +had passed away in his sleep. He was 84 years old. The last time I had seen +him (that November), he had shriveled away to almost nothing. He was +listless, not eating, and weighed only 140+ pounds on his once 6'4 frame. +He was STILL trying to get out of the nursing home they had him in. He was +loudmouth, he had spirit and he was full of life. Nothing could ever get him +down. + +I left Christmas day for the funeral. There was hardly any snow on the the +drive in, though the closer I got to Port Huron, the more nostalgic I got +about growing up there. I passed by familiar exits: Flint, Imly City, +Capac, Goodles. Got pulled over by an anal retentive cop for speeding. No +ticket. Merry Christmas to me. + +My aunts all looked like stuffed turkeys: fat and shiny. I felt awkward +being with them. I have never gotten along with my family, there has always +been some tension between me and a majority of my family, but yet I was the +favorite of all the grandkids. Never figured that one out. + +A lot of family I hadn't seen in five years, ten years were there. "You +look just like your mother!". Fuck. Just what I needed. Some of the older +relatives actually "thought" I WAS my mother. Shocking, considering I can't +stand my egg donor. + +The funeral wasn't what I would have done, if I was in charge. My +grandfather looked fake, and plastic with his stitched up mouth and eyes. +The fake smile, the filling in of teeth when he had been toothless for a +better part of my life. My aunts and uncles, being the idiots they were, +joked about putting a tiny kroger shopping cart in the casket, symbolizing +how he used to walk around with his junk in a shopping cart around the +city. He lost his drivers license after the drunk driving accident, and +that shopping cart became the mainstay in his life. + +I didn't cry. I couldn't cry. Family members, old family friends asked me +about my brother, the state basketball star or my mother, the superwoman. +To them, I was just a waste. The trouble maker. The worthless person who +had everything going, and fucked it all up. I was the female version of my +grandfather. + +My cousins Kevin, Shelly and I went out to Shelly's car and got high. I +heard family gossip about how Shelly's dad was going over to Kevin's house, +getting high. All the siblings getting together recalling their life with +their dad, drinking cheap beer and getting high off the pot my cousin sold. +The stories I wasn't privelidged to hear till then. My mother was miss goody +two shoes, the back bone of the family, taking care of her 6 younger +brothers and sisters while growing up, and I was her 'disappointment". + +And the hypocritical thing, was that all the awful things they said about +me, were not true. Well, majority of them were true. My cousin shelly +related news about ME, regardless of the fact that I had not seen her in +over five years. And here was my "family" busily discussing about my coke +habit (funny, i never touched coke) while my uncle used to deal coke +heavily. A few of my aunts were dealing pot as well, but yet I was the big +druggie. Other stories filtered in about acid use, orgies, all the good +stuff. The funny thing, that is about their LIFE, and they said it was mine. + +At the actual funeral, the man who spoke about my grandfather was a baptist +minister. My grandfather was raised catholic, though he hadn't been to +church in years, and more or less was an atheist. Regardless, my +grandfathers general comment to the minister when he would come visit him +would be "So what do you 'really' do for a living?". har har. + +The whole service was short and cheap. The "minister" said about 15 words +about my grandfather and spent the rest of his "speech" trying to win +converts to his church. I eyed everyone with disgust. They all weeped and +hung on to the preachers words. My grandfathers casket was closed and +flowers were laid over it. In the funeral possession to the graveyard, I +was squashed in the backseat of my aunts car. Three of the aunts were all +arguing about my grandfathers watch, which was supposed to be taken off his +wrist before the casket was closed. Their voices started escalating higher +and higher, till finally i pitched my cigarette out the window, and in a +calm but stern voice told them to shut the fuck up. They fell silent. + +We left the graveyard and drove to a small church for "brunch" or however +they were disguising the buffet they were serving. I didn't talk to anyone, +I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to sit on the hard folding +chair, pushing my potato salad around. Suddenly what I wanted was to be +home, drinking. Heavily. + +A blizzard had hit the area hard that weekend. The aunt I was staying with +begged me to stay over a few days extra because of the weather. My flight +instinct was calling me strong. I drove to her place clear across town, +picked up my stuff and drove home that night. + +The minute I got back into my hometown, i stopped at the liquor store and +bought a fifth of vodka. I didn't care what brand. Drove to my parents +house and got ahold of my brother. One of his best friends deals drugs, so +I bought a quarter bag of pot. Drove home, ignored my roommate/fuck toy/love +of my life. Got out of my clothes and into something more comfortable, and +started drinking. + +I didn't stop till I finished that whole bottle. + +I continued in that manner until the bottle was gone. My roommate/fuck +toy/love of my life drove and bought another fifth. Together we finished +that one, and purchased one more which is still sitting in the freezer +today. In between all the drinking, rolling joints and smoking them while +sitting on irc blasting people left and right. + +And I have never talked about my grandfathers death. +What he meant to me. +How I felt. + +I just drank that whole weekend, getting high. And the unusual part is that +I had not gotten high since november, and the last time before that was +nearly two years before. Drinking, hell, when I turned 21, I drank like a +fish, and one night it hit me I was following the patterns for the rest of +my oddball family, so I more or less stopped drinking except for when I +went to clubs. And I never bought alcohol *ever*. So I "knew" something +inside of me, snapping like a spiders web, was having me behave in this +manner. + +After this binge, I never brought up anything since then nor have I drank +but for a few occasional time. + +I don't live in Michigan anymore, but in the sunny state of california. I +called various relatives to let them know I had moved. Short, terse +conversations with me relaying my new contact information. They didn't ask +how I was, they didn't ask what I was doing. Did nothing but bitch moan or +complain about their lives, their worthlessness. I shivered and I hung up. + +Received a letter from my egg donor today. She forwarded all my mail not +making it through. I haven't read her letter. Don't know if I want to. + +I miss my grandfather, proud to be like him, proud to be alive and wanting +do things differently. Even if it means no acceptance from my family. Fuck +'em and feed 'em fishheads. No rice, no beans. + +And what I will always remember, is driving along I-69, passing the green +fields, and the big sign that said "DeBucks Sod Farm" painted on a the side +of a hay bale. To me, the endless green of new hay growing, the contrast of +the earth, the blue sky melting in the back, is the perfect metaphor for my +grandfathers life. + +I love you grandpa, hope you are okay wherever you are. + + +-simunye +June 4, 1997 + + +section 1 of uuencode 5.25 of file fuck0344.gif by R.E.M. + +begin 644 fuck0344.gif +M_]C_X``02D9)1@`!``$`P`#```#__@`752U,96%D(%-Y7J#A(6&AXB)BI*3E)66 +MEYB9FJ*CI*6FIZBIJK*SM+6VM[BYNL+#Q,7&Q\C)RM+3U-76U]C9VN'BX^3E +MYN?HZ>KQ\O/T]?;W^/GZ$0`"`0($!`,$!P4$!``!`G<``0(#$00%(3$&$D%1 +M!V%Q$R(R@0@40I&AL<$)(S-2\!5B7J"@X2%AH>(B8J2DY25 +MEI>8F9JBHZ2EIJ>HJ:JRL[2UMK>XN;K"P\3%QL?(RKR\_3U]O?X^?K_P``1"`"H`,8#`2$``A$!`Q$!_]H`#`,!``(1`Q$` +M/P#U5VSR3R>N:B8[6)KQMV>DR+S6C)VGZU2>Z5=2`P?WD1).?[I'_P`50Q!- +M.3]T=.PXQ4#S_*,DBJ8EH-,Q!)SP:=YNY-H/7CKUJ0*T$X9,YP-A`_('^E6) +M7*VZ8YRI%=43!F1-*!)U/)K%UC7K33F*W-SL<_P*_M2:!&=J4JKY6\'&\ +M@8X_@-4O.&4P2%#^M4M@(+I\.#S_`*P9_.GK(#+)\S<#L*8%ZTF42-R>4_N^ +M_P!:;#*@C7+-P4[=>![U#W&:MM*IMQN+$`X!Q3_,C_V_RK)K4I'?2D@]#CT% +M5IF&XY'O7G+0[RG*QSD$\=JSKV81W%J<'=)(8R?0%2?YJ*;$D+*^#R,5&7![ +MYH$,\W`QD`9J2.7@G/UQ0F(BMBHDVYY5CG\=PJP7+6T9ZC+8KJ@8LY'Q;JKZ +M;9%[?!FUB=N3N..PZFL^Z +MMR!F,?6B$]36I3ML=!X&UY[2\-E'7O5N%@$?!XV#`^A-)DHHZL_RI[2'_P!!-4=W[U%]6S5("*\?!4XX +MWK_,4Y7`G8DXR*>P%F"4"8]`/+R?S-1^<0O!/!C[_2IL!KPS#R>O&:=YP]36 +M=F6=W-JI?_56-ZY(_P">87_T(BHX+XS%]T+Q,C#*.1GIGL:\YP:5V=JDFR&> +M7[W05C:S-MLF=CM\EUEX_P!E@Q'X@$5`SGM<\:Q:?(RK%SVWL,M^'^-I$DM.^3EI!EOKFO16QX]569;+';&03]]>,X[U +MF,]3]!2[O]S]*RLRKV/3) +MY0!W!'<&L4S!-:N$RQ:R,+W9&#S +MU_6GH2,<]?P(H8([;P#K\R79M+J8LNS$6[J#Z5Z3J\SKHEV8B5<*3D'!'7D? 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If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0345.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0345.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5a65c0be --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0345.txt @@ -0,0 +1,81 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Happy Holidays from the Sheep! + ------------------------------ + +If you know me (and pray you're not accounted for here), you know I don't +like holidays. Although there isn't one in sight at this writing, I +started thinking that it's actually the card-giving holidays that disturb +me the most. Any friggin' significant numerical smear on the calendar that +forces me out to the potpourri-smelling Halmark store in order to purchase +a greeting card of any kind has my ire. + +Just the premise alone of having to take my weary ass (take my word for it, +it's weary-looking) out to buy the card is an out-right act of baa-baaa +sheepishness to begin with. That act alone demonstrates to me that I too +have caved into the notion that going through certain holidays without +passing off a card will make me less acceptable than an HIV-positive +Republican candidate in the Ozark voting district. Blame the card +companies, blame the stores, blame Madison Ave, blame the CIA if you're +already doing it for everything anyway, but about half of these holidays +are NOT card worthy. "Happy Arbor Day, You Big Tree Hugging Druid!" +Sheesh.. + +Next in line is the message in these cards. I would just as soon have a +premonition of my own painful death by rectal cancer than to even PRETEND +to read one of those poem-cards with a hand-holding couple walking on a +beach at sunset. No matter how heart-felt the gesture, no matter no rich +the sentiment when the card was picked out, I just can't realistically +enjoy words from a stranger. It's not even that I fly into a rage, or +something so callously melodramatic. I just know they can see my eyes +water and begin to cross when I read these cards, the same they would if +you made me read a 1040 instruction booklet. Again, don't get me wrong, I +enjoy the thought, but even Pol Pot didn't make his people read greeting +cards - he just shot them outright with some sense of mercy. + +What's worse is the absolute tizzy you get into in the card isle. Bless +the Norse gods if you're luck enough to find a commercial greeting card +store, but how many times have you ended up in the one at the supermarket? +AHHHHHH! Boy, these suck! It's doesn't help that your selection amounts +to an entire year's worth of greeting cards in a space only as wide as the +front of a VW. Oh, no they've got to COMPLETELY suck to add insult to +injury. You go to find a decent B-day card, and all that's left is the one +that the other delinquents and late-comers overlooked that has some demonic +clown wishing a 3 year-old a "HAP-HAP-HAPPY Jewish Amputee B-Day Party!" +Yup, and rather than looking insensitive or inconsiderate, you're forced to +buy this for your fiancee's uncle's big 5-0. Yeah, I'm sure he'd much +rather have had you take a big ol' crap on a piece of card-stock, fold it +together, and give him some demented fecal-Rorschach test. At least people +respect home-made card ("Oh! You shat the card yourself! Well it's VERY +pretty!") + +Take my advice here: The best default greeting card to buy? The "Sympathy +on the Loss of you Pet" card. Why? One, it's always in stock. Two, it +says nothing about events in particular - A plus since none of them say +anything particularly significant anyway. Three, and most importantly, if +it just so happens their pet just happened to die around the holidays, +you're already covered. + + +-capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0346.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0346.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..245badc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0346.txt @@ -0,0 +1,359 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Two Plus Two + ------------ + +Intro... +-------- + +Just a few words that seem to be lost or burried in today's society. +Take the time to read them and THINK about what they mean. Do any of +these seem familiar to you? After reading these definitions, take time +to read a few select quotes about various aspects of life. With these +two steps, put 2 and 2 together and see what you get out of the file. + + +Definitions... +-------------- + +comrade (n) 1a. an intimate friend or associate + +courage (n) 1. mental or moral strength to venture, perservere, and + withstand danger, fear, or difficulty. + +duty (n) 2a. obligatory tasks, conduct, service, or functions + that arise from one's position (as in life or in a group) + 3a. a moral or legal obligation + +esteem 3. the regard in which one is held + +ethic (n) 1. the discipline dealing with what is good and bad and + with moral duty and obligation + +fidelity (n) 1a. the quality or state of being faithful + +friend (n) 1a. one attached to another by affection or esteem + 1b. one that is of the same nation, party, or group + +honesty (n) 2a. fairness and straightforwardness of conduct + 2b. adherence to the facts + +honor (n) 1. good name or public esteem + 4. one whose worth brings respect or fame + 8a. a keen sense of ethical conduct + 8b. one's word given as a guarantee of performance + +integrity (n) 2. firm adherence to a code of esp. moral or artistic values + +loyal (adj) 1. unswerving in allegiance + 1b. faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due + +moral (adj) 1a. of or relating to principles of right and wrong + behavior + 1d. sanctioned by or operative on one's conscience or + ethical judgment + 1e. capable of right and wrong action + +noble (adj) 1a. possessing outstanding qualities + 5. possessing, characterized by, or arising from + superiority of mind or character or of ideals or morals + +obligation (n) 1a. something (as a formal contract, a promise, or the + demands of conscience or custom) that obligates one + to a course of action + +respect (n) 3a. high or special regard : ESTEEM + +righteous (adj) 1a. acting in accord with divine or moral law + 2b. arising from an outraged sense of justice or morality + +virtue (n) 1a. conformity to a standard of right + 1b. a particular moral excellence + + + +On friendship... +---------------- + +"Friends are born, not made." - Henry Brooks Adams + +"My sone, keep wel thy tongue, and keep thy freend." + - The Manciple's Tale + +"A friend is long sought, hardly found, and with difficulty kept." + - St. Jerome + +"My friend, judge not me, Thou seest I judge not thee. Betwixt the stirrup +and the ground Mercy I asked, and mercy found." + - William Camden + +"Why should good words ne'er be said Of a friend till he is dead?" + - Daniel Webster Hoyt + +"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." + - Aristotle + + +On courage... +------------- + +"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which +you really stop to look fear in the face. you are able to say to yourself, +'I lived through this horro. I can take the next thing that comes along' +... You must do the thing you think you cannot do." + - Anna Eleanor Roosevelt + +"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." + - Anais Nin + +"Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace." + - Amelia Earhart Putnam + +"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absense of fear." + - Samuel Longhorne Clemens + +"The courage we desire and prize is not the courage to die decently, but +to live manfully." - Thomas Carlyle + + +On duty... +---------- + +"The path of duty lies in what is near, and man seeks for it in +what is remote." - Mencius + +"The business of the samurai consists in reflecting on his own +station in life, in discharging loyal service to his master +if he has one, in deepening his fidelity in assoications with +friends, and, with due consideration of his own position, in +devoting himself to duty above all." + - Yamaga Soku (The Way of the Samurai) + +"When I'm not thanked at all, I'm thanked enough; I've done my duty, +and I've done no more." - Henry Fielding + + +"A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is omnipresent, like the Deity. +If we take to ourselves the wings of the morning, and dwell in the +uttermost parts of the sea, duty performed or duty violated is still +with us, for our happiness or our misery. If we say the darkness +shall cover us, in the darkness as in the light our obligations are +yet with us." - Daniel Webster + + +"Not once or twice in our rough island story the path of duty was +the way to glory." - Lord Tennyson + + +"I have another duty equally sacred.. My duty to myself." + - Henrik Ibsen + + +On esteem... +------------ + +"So much is a man worth as he esteems himself." + - Francois Rabelais + + +On honor... +----------- + +"Of men who have a sense of honor, more come through alive than are +slain, but from those who flee comes neither glory nor any help." + - Homer + +"Truly, to tell lies is not honorable; But when the truth entails +tremendous ruin, To speak dishonorably is pardonable." + - Sophocles + +"What is left when honor is lost?" + - Publilius Syrus + +"Count it the greatest sin to prefer life to honor, and for the sake +of living to lose what makes life worth having." + - Decimus Junius Juvenalis + +"All is lost save honor." - Francis I + +"My honor is dearer to me than my life." + - Miguel de Cervantes + +"Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, +and my life is done." - William Shakespeare + +"As he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him." + - William Shakespeare + +"And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the +protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our +lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." + - Thomas Jefferson + +"To die with honor when one can no longer live with honor." + - John Luther Long + + +On integrity... +--------------- + +"In silence man can most readily preserve his integrity." + - Meister Eckhart + +"If everyone were clothed with integrity, if every heart were just, +frank, kindly, the other virtues would be well-night useless, since +their chief purpose is to make us bear with patience the injustice of +our fellows." - Moliere (Jean Baptiste Poquelin) + + +On moral... +----------- + +"True eloquence takes no heed of eloquence, true morality takes no +heed of morality." - Blaise Pascal + +"Truth is the secret of eloquence and of virtue, the basis of moral +authority; it is the highest summit of art and of life." + - Henri-Frederic Amiel + +"If ignorance and passion are the foes of popular morality, it must be +confessed that moral indifference is the malady of the cultivated +classes." - Henri-Frederic Amiel + +"What is beautiful is moral, that is all there is to it." + - Gustave Flaubert + +"'Tut, tut, child,' said the Duchess. 'Everything's got a moral if only +you can find it.'" - Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) + +"The fact that man knows right from wrong proves his intellectual +superiority to the other creatures; but the fact that he can do wrong +proves his moral inferiority to any creature that cannot." + - Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain) + +"The difference between a moral man and a man of honor is that the +latter regrets a discreditable act, even when it has worked and he +has not been caught." - Henry Louis Mencken + +"He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked." + - Kahlil Gibran + + +On nobility... +-------------- + +"For kindness begets kindness evermore, but he from whose mind fades +the memory of benefits, noble is he no more." + - Sophocles + +"Nobly to live, or else nobly to die, befits proud birth." + - Sophocles + +"Nobility is the one and only virtue." + - Decimus Junius Juvenalis (Juvenal) + +"They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts." + - Sir Philip Sidney + +"True nobility is exempt from fear." + - William Shakespeare + +"A noble person attracts noble people, and knows how to hold on to them." + - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe + +"For words divide and rend; But silence is most noble till the end." + - Algernon Charles Swinburne + +"Every one of these hundreds of millions of human beings is in some form +seeking happiness... Not one is altogether noble nor altogether trustworthy +nor altogether consistent; and not one is altogether vile.. Not a single +one but has at some time wept." + - Herbert George Wells + + +On respect... +------------- + +"There is no other way of guarding oneself against flattery than by letting +men understand that they will not offend you by speaking the truth; +but when everyone can tell you the truth, you lose their respect." + - Niccolo Machiavelli + +"We confide in our strength, without boasting of it; we respect that of +others, without fearing it." - Thomas Jefferson + + +On righteousness... +------------------- + +"The humblest citizen of all the land, when clad in the armor of a +righteous cause, is stronger than all the hosts of Error." + - William Jennings Bryan + +"The company of just and righteous men is better than wealth +and a rich estate." - Euripides + + +On virtue... +------------ + +"Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practices it will have neighbors." + - Confucius + +"Friendship with a manis friendship with his virtue, and does not admit of +assumptions of superiority." - Mencius + +"There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his +outward parts." - William Shakespeare + +"Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful." + - William Shakespeare + +"Virtue is harder to be got than knowledge of the world; and, if lost in +a young man, is seldom recovered." + - John Locke + +"The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have a friend is +to be one." - Ralph Waldo Emerson + + +Final thoughts... +----------------- + +As I write this file, I can't help but wonder to myself if anyone +will get the point. I find myself doubting that people will actually +read through and consider the definitions and quotes. I have been +sitting here for over ten hours researching quotes that I feel help +reflect my point. But that just leads me to wonder what my point is. +I mean, I know what my point is, but I don't think I can adequately +reflect it through my own words. Furthermore, I know that it is +possible to get a double meaning out of some of these quotes. So I +am trusting you to make the right choice in trying to decipher my +meaning. + +I think the best bet is for you the reader to think about things yourself. +Draw your own conclusions based on the text above. After all, your own +thoughts are the most powerful message I can deliver. + + .d1s. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0347.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0347.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1c579c92 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0347.txt @@ -0,0 +1,132 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + She Lied To Me + -------------- + + She'll be mine.. That's how the conversation began if +I recollect correctly. But the past is getting so hazy in my +mind lately.. I just need to write these things down.. You know, +because, I never know exactly when I'm going to forget them.. +I remember that night fairly well though.. + The sky was dim and the stars were starting to shine +through.. I had the phone reciever pressed to my ear and I +was speaking to the first person that I'd ever +met online over the phone.. We were friends then.. I was +convincing this girl that I'd be able to get one of her sisters +to love me.. Hell, it started as a joke.. But it didn't end +a joke.. After about two hours of discussion on all kinds of +enthralling topics I hung up. + It was about two months later and I signed online very +early. I was startled to recieve a message so early. It was +a private communications directed to me from this girls sister, +Emily. She explained to me that her sister, Katie, had told +her what I had said, and she demanded an explanation. Of course, +being the type of guy that I am, I got a sly grin on my face. +I sent a message back to her and we began a rather lengthy +talk about nothing in particular. We noticed that we had many +similarities, we were both pyromaniacs, single, and both really +disliked authoritarian figures. I asked for her phone number +and recieved three of them. + It was nearing mid-afternoon when I called her. I remember +the first conversation very clearly. She sounded just like an angel +you know.. I knew I was really going to love this girl. A few hours +later we were as you could say, a couple. I remember how blessed +I felt. + Things progressed steadily from there. We became very close +and I felt I could trust her with anything. We told each other +about the hardships in are life and the such and I decided I was +going to go visit her. So I hopped onto a plane and headed to +New York. Now little did I know I'd have quite a time finding +her house. And of course, being a man, I wasn't about to ask +for directions. So, about three days later, I still hadn't +found her house and I got on a plane and came home. + I guess that was the thing that started the relationship +on a downward spiral. Two months later I recieved a herendous +teleconference bill from a PBX that got traced back to my line, +and I was unable to go online. I was unable to touch a phone +and dial her.. Things were getting very grim. + A few months later I was able to return and things seemed +just like normal. Things were upbeat and happy. Or so I thought. +It was nearing spring and I headed out to the Cayman Islands for +break. I stayed there with a few friends and really hit it off +with this hacker girl I met. Things went rather well and I was +on my way back home in what seemed like no time. I didn't think +much of what happened with that girl in the Cayman Islands.. But +it came back to haunt me. + Upon reentering the country I placed a call to Katie in +Minnesota and told her what happened. I told her I was going to +tell Emily and I didn't want her to say anything. But of course, +I couldn't bring myself to say anything. But.. Katie told her, +Emily didn't let me know that. Maybe because she didn't believe +it, maybe because she didn't want to. + It was approaching summer that Saturday morning my life +turned to hell. I called Emily and had an elaborate discussion on +hip replacement surgery with her.. And I said, hey, let me go on +your account and you can go on mine. She agreed and gave me her +account name and password. I noticed she had e-mail so I figured +she wouldn't care if I read it.. I fully expected her to read mine. +I opened her mail box and read a letter from Katie. All seemed +well. But then I came along some lining which I did not like +at all.. It said something along the lines of.. "Yes, Jesse is +coming up this summer.. Your lucky you have such a good guy like +Chris that is going to come visit you.. I guess we're both going +to have a great summer.." I noticed just then my name wasn't Chris. +I stored all over her e-mail on my computer and deleted it from +her mailbox. + Then came the letter I wrote. I wrote up a bitter +and spiteful message in Notepad, and sent it off to Emily's +account. She read it and replied with quite a heart wrenching +note.. A few depressing notes later.. I was out the only thing +I really cared about.. + After those notes I called my friends and talked to +them.. But they could offer me no support.. They could offer +me no help, they could offer me nothing. I decided I needed +to get outside, out of the house. I went and hung out with +my friends and went to a party later that night. I tried to call +Emily from a payphone at the party.. But no one answered. +I ended up spending the night over my friends house.. I told +him what happened.. and he replied.. "She was always a bitch +anyway.." and he lit up his joint he had hanging out of +his mouth. + The next morning I was so depressed I could hardly +open my eyes. It seemed like the weight of the world was +coming down on me.. I went home almost immediately and +layed down on my bed and gazed aimlessly at the cieling. +I turned on some music, but nothing was loud enough.. I'd like +to say things got easier from there, but they didn't. + We didn't speak for nearly a month after those +altercations.. But when we eventually did, things were +not the same. As much as I wanted them to be, they weren't, +they never would be again. That summer we briefly got back +together, only to be resplitup because she was cheating on +me yet again.. + My heart is still broken from all of this. I learned +that it isn't a good idea to trust or love anyone. Never +trust anyone with secrets and you cannot get hurt. Never +love anyone and you have nothing to worry about. I feel like +my heart got stomped on.. I still do.. I still fucking do. + Remember everything when only memories remain.. + + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0348.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0348.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..657e4051 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0348.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1156 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Identity + -------- + + 1 : The Becoming + + The man arrived at his destination. + + He watched the stream of light escaping the crack from the building. + He heard the low bass of hushed voices. + He felt the comforting steel in his palms. + He smelled the acrid burning of drugs. + He tasted the cool night air. + + Stepping in the snow, he watched his breath curl up into fog, a +light mist laced with frost, that dissipated into the air, curling into +ribbons. The stark whiteness of the falling snow appeared almost like +headlights pointed at his face against the night sky backdrop. The man +edged closer to the warehouse, and then pressed up against it, the +comforting feel of brick against his flesh reminding him of the mission +at hand. He pulled the hammers back on each of his pistols, the clack +silenced by the covering of his gloved hands. Sliding a clip into the +weapon, he savored the click that told him it had been successfully loaded. +He lowered his eyes, kissing the nozzle of each gun, blessing them with his +death-giving touch. Flattening up against the wall, he turned, for one +brief, tranquil moment, feeling the winter's air rush across his face in +a blur, caressing his face with it's icy kiss, and then he spun, kicking +out his leg and shattering the glass that held him out of that faded +warehouse. + + He felt all attention on him, as he turned, facing the first +obstacle that would try to keep him from surmounting his ultimate goal. +This obstacle, the man already noticed, had the devil's powder running +in his system, slits of adrenaline flashing in his eyes, spit sliding out +of one of his eyes as he spat ravings at the man in uncontrolled bursts. +The man raised the pistols, already firing the second he had broken the +window. Time was being elongated and manipulated, as the obstacle took two +shells of lead in it's heart, and the man vaulted through the window even +as the obstacle fell back, already in his death throes. + The second obstacle was allowing the devil's powder to possess him +already, the man was watching him let it into his system, sliding up his +left nostril and flowing into his mind, already he could see the grim +effects as the obstacle tripped, falling back and bringing a rifle into +the current situation. His aim was off, his mind was being ravaged by the +drug, and still did not have time to shoot as the man squeezed the triggers +simultaneously, bringing salvation to the tortured soul, quickly and loudly. +He fell back. The drug slid across the floor, resting by the cracked wall. +Two obstacle overcome. The man leaped over one table. A table, he noticed, +that had packages of the devil's powder resting on it, tightly wrapped up +in bundles, undoubtedly worth large amounts of money. The man noticed all +of this in flight, and landed on the soles of his feet, feeling the shock +of the concrete revert in his legs but already crouching in a stance and +firing at the legs he had seen when at level with the cold, gritty floor. + + There was a cry, and then the obstacle fell, dropping the pistol +with him. The man slid under the second table, via the powdered-littered +ground, passing by the third obstacle and pulling the trigger, delivering +him to a quick exit from his sin-ridden world. The man stood, whirling +around and glancing for any other circumstances that might come in between +him. The man was, for once, too late. Already, a bullet was streaking +through the air at him. The man saw it, saw his reflection off the object, +saw it pass over table and table with startling speed. He had never been on +this end of death, he realized. And then it struck his neck, and he fell +back onto another table littered with mind-altering powder. He saw his +blood rise, spraying upward like a crimson rain. + + He heard the splintering of wood underneath his shoulder blades. + He felt a numbness overtake his body. + He smelled the scent of fresh gunpowder, mixed with gasoline. + He tasted his blood within his mouth, shutting his eyes, he falls + into infinite blackness, screaming all the way down... + + Down... + Down... + + It is at this moment in which the man emerges from this state of +mind, the spectre's illusions tormenting his mind ceasing, although only +temporary. He is aware of his surroundings sharply, as he feels the bonds +the place has put on him, as the straightjacket is entwined with him. Feels +himself cowering in the corner of the cell, feels too much... + "It is a very interesting case, ladies and gentlemen. The fact of +the matter is, this man in Cell 576 here is victim of sudden flashbacks of +when he was ridden with anger against a small drug trading operation that +was near his apartment, and, in fits of delusion, killed everyone within +the trade and burnt the area to the ground. He was found in the snow, +outside the building, as it was burning. Within his belt he had two +revolvers, and numerous matches. Empty jugs of gasoline were located in +the wreckage." The Professor spoke to the crown of analysts, as they +scribbled down the doctor's words. + One female doctor spoke up. "What mental problem is there? Is he +angry still?" The Professor shook his head. "No. Instead, he states the he +died while fighting, and is constantly a host of flashbacks of his 'death'. +Right now, we assume that he is caught by the fact that he thinks he is +dead, while still on earth. We are, frankly, baffled by this case, which +is why it is one of out more interesting subjects. If you will, ladies and +gentlemen, walk this way..." + The man still cowered in his cell. He still heard. He still +understood. Partially. But he was not like all the rest of them. They only +knew part of the story...if only they could understand that he -finish the +job- was sane...the man paused in mid-thought. There...that voice...the man +concentrated fiercely upon hearing it again. For hours he sat there, +listening intently. No avail. Nothing was revealed. No more voices...for +now. For now. The man sat in the cell, glancing around. + All of a sudden, he felt the taste of gunpowder wash into his mouth. +He spat, trying to expel it...his vision began to swirl, his senses taken +over by the flashbacks...the man screamed. No...he thought. Not now...not +again... It was the night again. The man was back again. So it goes. It was, +of course, always the same scenario. The same area, the same mindless +actions still drilling a monotonous indention in his consciousness... + + + + 2 : The Drawing Of The Two + + Julie Reynolds heard the annoying buzz of her doorbell, getting up +lazily from her couch, striding to the door. She was in the process of +reading a good news headline and sipping some tea when her doorbell so +rudely awakened her from her contentment. Looking through the rusted +peephole, she glanced at the warped image of a man, dressed in a long +trenchcoat, with black sunglasses that hid his expressions. Julie stared +quizzically at the man, twisting the doorknob. As she opened the door, she +was greeted with a sincere smile, and a mouth full of gleaming white teeth. + + "Hi," the man said. His breath smelled of an acrid pungency, but +Julie could not put her finger on it..."Could I step in for a moment? I have +to discuss something with you...it's urgent." The man's fingers were laced +nervously in front of him, his foot tapping. Julie opened the door further, +allowing him to enter her apartment. She shut the door behind her, crossing +her arms. She was mildly perturbed by this entry, and yet intrigued by what +news he supposedly had. The man turned, flicking the blade out from the +switchblade's black sheath, whipping around, his trenchcoat flailing behind +him. He ramming into Julie, pressing her up against the doorway. The man +pressed his face close to hers, the glasses showing no emotion. + "I've had my eye on your for some time, Julie," He hissed. His mouth +was contorted to something between a frown and a grimace. "You seem to be +fairly wealthy. I'm sure when you die, you won't need that money." He +laughed, and little bits of spittle hit Julie's face. Julie finally +recognized what that smell on his breath was. Cocaine. Julie rammed a fist +into the man's stomach, as he fell, gasping. Julie grabbed his arm that held +the knife, twisting it behind his back. The switchblade clattered out of his +hand, as he growled. Julie kneed him in the temple, and he let out a +steadily decreasing groan as he slumped to the floor, his body falling slowly +over Julie's knee and meeting the tile. Julie glared angrily at the man, +brushing a hand through her dark, brown hair. Men. Still think they're on +top. + She checked him for identification, and then hefted him up. Although +fairly small, Julie was muscular due to her...profession. As she hoisted the +man up, her eye fell upon her wedding ring on her finger. She smiled. Her +husband was probably "working" right now. Her eyes traveled up to the watch +on her wrist. The digital readout said 9:45. Enough time to drop this man +off at the police station, and then..."pick up" her husband. + + Frank Reynolds fingers busily tapped on the keyboard, as his eyes +scanned the steadily scrolling text and binary code across the computer +screen. Finding the necessary information, he jammed a disk into the drive, +loading the data onto it. He glimpsed the security camera he had tapped. +His man, Simon Holton, was winding his way up the staircase, briefcase in +hand, on the black and white monitor. Frank cursed slightly. Working late? +Frank would have to speed his job up quickly... + Finally getting the disk, Frank ejected it, ramming it into his +black backpack, erasing all evidence of him being there, and also uploading +a virus that he had put into the system. A fairly homegrown virii, it could +narrow down whatever he wanted, and pinpoint a file, exactly, within a very +short amount of time. Any conflicting programs that tried to stop it, such +as ICE, were destroyed. He worriedly looked at the monitor again, sweat +trickling down his brow. Simon was completely off camera now, which meant +one thing. He was in the main hallway, on his way to his office, which Frank +was currently occupying. Frank switched off the computer, getting up and +waiting by the oaken door. He was not sure what else to do with such little +time, but it sure was better than sitting there, with his back to Simon as +he walked in, copying illegal data files from his computer, and making a +perfect target for Simon to pump his body with round after round of bullets, +until his bloody body jerked as the bullets sprayed... + + Frank came back to attention, as the door swung open. The oaken +surface came closer, closer, until the cold wood was actually pressing up +against Frank's nose. He grimaced, his muscles tense. The door stopped, as +Simon strode in. He sat down at the computer, already eager to view his +material. Frank slipped out from behind the door, his nerves tingling, as +he silently tried to slip out. And knocked over a tin of pencils. + Frank's body shot into a run, as he heard the squeak of Simon's +chair as he turned, and then: "YOU! STOP!" Frank knew that Simon was already +rapidly tapping the Alarm button under his desk, summoning the security +guards to intercept him on the staircase or elevator, whichever he took. +It was a good thing that Frank wasn't taking any of those ways. Frank decided +all was haywire as it could be right now, so he pulled out the long, evilly +grappled rapelling hook he had, digging it into the side of the office +hallway, digging a large gouge in the flaking plaster. Rearing back and +kicking the window, it shattered into a million pieces, the shards raining +down 13 stories down onto the black parking lot, shattering. Frank grabbed +the rope that was attached to the hook, twisting and rappeling down the side +of the building. + The cool night air hit him, as he gasped, his eyes watering, and +almost flew down the side of the building. Finally touching ground, he +jerked the rope, gathering it and stuffing it into his backpack. Looking +around frantically, he saw, with relief, the dark blue van he was looking +for. The door slid open as Frank sprinted to it, as Julie gunned the engine. +Frank leapt in, glancing at the broken window to see the dark silhouette of +the guards looking down his escape route. Julie turned to face him while +speeding out of the parking lot. + + "Did you get the files?" + + "Yeah." breathed Frank, still slightly winded from his sprint +across the parking lot. + + The horizon dipped and swayed through the van's windshield, as the +duo sped out of the parking lot, hitting a curb and skidding onto the +highway. It was a good thing it was late out; any earlier and the highway +would be filled with cars. Now, however, the peaceful line pavement was +black and dark, vacant of all automobiles. Julie and Frank sighed in relief, +smiling. Another "job" well done. Now for their favorite part. The payoff. + + + + 3 : Confrontation + + Sweat dripped from the man's brow, as he blinked rapidly to rid his +eyes of the sting. The moonlight was creeping through the main hallway of +the asylum, resting on the marble in the hallway and making a mirror image +of the asylum's dark hallways in the floor. All the man could hear, for now, +was the occasional heavy footfall of a guard, the click of heels echoing +along the dark hallways. The man slowly reached under his mattress, +constantly glancing out his cell, as he gripped the small, metallic prong +in-between his fingers. It was his only way out. + Sliding the lockpick into the cell's lock, he silently worked the +metal until there was an audible click. The man put the lockpick into his +shirt pocket, and tentavily opened the door. There was no sound. He stowed +out into the hall, feverishly glancing left and right. Nothing. Creeping +left, he made sure to remain in shadows, and rounded the corner. There was +a guard, but the man was far from surprised. He had planned this for months, +and knew the guard would be there. The guards back was to him, as he silently +crept behind him, then swiftly and silently, deftly leaped and wrapped his +arms around the guard's neck, muffling his mouth. The man jerked his arms. + + Amidst mouthfuls of coffee, the two guards discussed various topics +while peering through the dim haze of cigarette smoke wafting in the lounge +at their playing cards. + + "Three Aces. Beat that, Sheffler." + + "Eh...ya won again. Lucky punk." + + They both laughed, hacking a little, as they took sips of coffee +between conversation. All of a sudden, the larger of the two guards waved +his hand, dismissing any noise from his partner. + + "Sh. Wait...didja hear sumthin'?" + + The other guard listened cautiously, then shook his head. + + "Nope. Whadya hear?" + + "Eh, sounded like, like a crack. A little bump, too. Ah, prolly +another inmate tryin ta destroy his room, heh." + + The other nodded, laughing, and they dealt out the cards again. + + The man dragged the guard into the closet, after he had taken the +gun and his nightstick. He was full of apprehension, his veins seemed to be +pouring liquid fire into his body; he felt so tense; coiled even. He gazed +out the window silently, the moon rich and full over the asylum's crowned +peaks of rooftops. He clicked the revolver back, hearing a satisfying snap +as the gun loaded. He switched the safety off, glancing left and right +through the halls. The man stumbled down the stairs, regarding the light +from the exit sign to illuminate his way. + Suddenly, his mind picked up the dim shadow of a guard crossing over +the walkway above him. His mind reacted suddenly, as the man whipped the +revolver upwards, squeezing the trigger rapidly. Bullets spinged and spanged +among showers of sparks, and the guard clattered onto the walkway. The man +looked around, sure that more guards would rush out any moment. He had no +doubt that they would. Finally seeing an exit, he ran over to the glass +doors. Grabbing the door, he struggled with the handle. Locked! All of a +sudden, a guard ran from the corner, almost running into the man. Once +again, his mind reacted. Grabbing the guard, he heaved him through the +window. Glass splayed outward in a spider's web of cracks, and then +shattered, the moon illuminating the shards as they skittered across the +concrete walkway. The man reached over, outside and around the window, +grabbing the door and turning the handle. The door creaked open, and the +cool night air rushed into his face, as he sprinted outside, away from his +house of deceptions... + + Julie and Frank were now fully relaxed, as they drove steadily. All +of a sudden, there was a sillowhete from the moon, and a man was in front of +the car. Julie cursed out loud, as Frank turned to look out the window. +Julie slammed on the brakes, the car skidding in a wild flurry of squeals +and burning rubber, but there was a dull thud as they impacted with the +person. The interior of the car rocked and swayed, as the car finally came +to a stop. Frank opened the sliding door, hurriedly leaping out and over to +the body. + The man was not in too bad of shape, there was a stream of blood +running from his forehead, and a gash in one of his arms. Frank checked for +possible things that might result in fatal comas if left unnoticed, then +rested his fingers on the man's neck. "There's a pulse." Frank yelled to +Julie. "He's alive!" Julie looked to the van, then to Frank. "...we have +room." Frank looked at the man. He looked at Julie. He looked at the van. + + The man slowly regained his vision, glancing around the interior of a +metal shell he was enclosed within. The skyline was scrolling above him like +a spectre screaming toward a destination, and he was instantly aware of his +surroundings. The floor was vibrating, and the hum of an engine was whirring +nearby. A worried woman looked at him suddenly, and yelled out to the front +of the room, "Frank! He's alive!" The man sat up, and his vision swam. The +room tilted crazily, then swirled together in a mess of color and pallets +of chaos. + + Julie and Frank sipped tea, watching the steam curl and rise, as +they anxiously paced back and forth in Julie's apartment, the man on the +couch not moving since he had passed out in the van. Frank was muttering +under his breath. + + "It's all my fault. Damn. Watch the road, always watch the road. +Oh God, he's gonna die..." + + Julie interrupted him. + + "Frank...Frank, stop it." + + "It was all me, I know it was, it-" + + "Frank, it wasn't your fault. This guy was probably just a bit +drunk, happened to be on the road at the wrong time, ah, you know." + + "Right, Julie. I don't think so. Oh god...what if this guy has a +lawyer? What if he sues? We don't have the money! I mean, if we even get +one good lawyer on us-" + + "Frank, that's far enough. Relax. He'll be alright, and I'm sure +we can resolve this with him once he..ah..once he wakes up." Frank looked +at her. She was right..no problem at all. + + + + 4 : The Pursuit + + The car swerved, the men in the back loading the automatic +weapons hurriedly, the clips slamming into place, turning the entire back +of the van into an orchestra of "click"s. The men looked at each other, and +passed around a picture of the Escaped Prisoner. Too valuable to have +wandering around. Jobs like these were a little messy, but always effective. +The lead man, Dr. Jacobs, leaned over, the pale light from the computer +illuminating his face, and glanced at the onboard map. The screen was a mess +of lines, with labels such as "22nd" and "SouthGlenn". It was a map of +streets, and the blinking dot that had circulating spheres coming from it +was the location of their little prisoner. They were going to...help him. +Yes. The man kept repeating that in his mind, as the van swerved again. + + Groggily, the man looked around the room he was in. Was he back +within his cell, at the asylum? No, he realized, the bed he was in was too +soft, the lighting too dim. He sat up, and his head swam. He regained his +senses, looking around a bit more slowly. As he focused, the dim outline of +another couch and a lamp emerged from the darkness. He swung his legs over +the side of his bed, looking around. Then, he noticed a man on the couch +across from him, in a jumble of blankets. He was snoring lightly, the +blankets rising and falling. The man stood up, walking over to the sleeping +figure. He moved him gently, and the man groggily muttered, then sat up with +a start, the blankets falling away. The man looked to the left, as a woman +ran from the outside hall to the same room. The man looked back at the +recently-awakened figure. In the raspiest of voices, he spoke. "Where am I?" + + After a few long and confused discussions and conversations, Julie +and Frank hadn't learned very much about this figure. He had no wallet or +name, so they could not justify who he was. The man didn't know his own +name. They were stuck at an impasse. Julie and Frank had talked privately, +and had decided that this man seemed nice, and a bit confused. He had no +family, and the only recollection of memory was when he was in an +"As-eye-lem," as he called it. Julie and Frank were a bit precautionary, +however. An asylum? They didn't want a nut in their house, they knew that +much. They were about to talk to the man about this matter, when he promptly +jumped out the window. + + + + 5 : flip + + Speed. Velocity. Coming fast. Must move. Twist. Dive. Use instincts. +The man caught the banister of the outside stairwell very well, flipping +over, his feet clomping on the grate. Looking above him, he saw the sky, +grey, clouds rolling, and above that, his hunters. He leapt into the +burnt-out husk of the tower he was by, shutting the window behind him. He +looked around. There were a few beeping lights, flickering in the darkness +like specters, some meters flickering, and torn cloth, flapping in the dark +room from some unseen breeze. + The man reached to his right and left holsters, feeling the +comforting feel of steel. He drew his weapons, aiming them around the room +in sync with each other. Glancing left and right, he hurriedly found a place +to hide, behind a splintered doorway. Kneeling in the darkened alcove of +wood, he glared out the window. The moon was full, a pale sphere glowing in +the heavens. + Movement. A shadow...? The glass broke, shattering into a dozen +shards as the window blew inward. The man shielded his eyes from the +incoming glass, simultaneously drawing the hammers back on his guns. He +waited. There. A person, dressed in black, leaping into the pitch blackness. +And another. The man kissed the muzzles of his guns quickly. Father... +protect me. + He stood, running for another shelter, swiveling his waist and +squeezing the triggers three times each, the roaring blast sparking chaos +and fear to the ensuing hunters. Through the bright glares from his guns, +he could see one of them fall, thrown backwards, hitting the wall and +leaving a crimson mark that seeped down. Ducking behind a large, metal +plate, he narrowly missed dying, as a few bullets panged off of the plate. +He stood, emptying both chambers into the area of the second hunter. + He/she/it screamed, falling back onto a table that gave beneath +him/her/it. A crackling of wood. A moan. The man watched the smoke waft +off of his pistols, sliding in front of the pale moon like twin transparent +strands of silk, weaving their way toward the sky. + + Wind. Coldness. World swimming. + Fade. Fade. + Darkness. + + Julie and Frank frantically ran down the fire escape, rushing down +the steps. Seeing an open window, they glanced in. An empty room, a broken +table, and a pair of feet visible from the bed. Jumping in, Frank landed on +the plush carpeting, walked past the TV, and saw the man. Curled on his side, +trembling violently. Frank's blood ran cold. There were two twin pistols +lying by the man's form. For a freakish moment, Frank swore that the man +had committed suicide. It was changed when the man sat up screaming. + + Dead? DEAD? No...gunsmoke. Smelt. Tasted. + Person in front of him. Name Frank. + Time to go now. + + + + 6 : flip + + Frank jumped back, his lower back ramming into the closet. He +cursed, looking at the man. After one staccato burst from him, he seemed to +be ok, if not a bit flustered. His knees a bit weak, the man stood, using +the bed for support. He saw Frank's face, the jaw hanging, as he looked +around. He hurriedly grabbed his pistols, looked around nervously. + + "Where...how did I get here?" + + Julie stepped in the room, as Frank looked at her in desperation, +then back at the man. + + "I wish I knew." + + "Let's, ah...get back to the apartment, awright?" + + Beep. Beep. Like a heartbeat in his little machine, the doctor +smiled. Soon now. Very soon. The spheres escalating from the monitor were +lessening in radius. Very, very close. There. steady beep. + + They had found him. + + Frank and Julie had reached a conclusion. "You need an identity. +You can't get anywhere without one, much less in a condition you are in. +Some things are going on inside you that even we don't know about." He gave +a glance at Julie. His mouth was dry. + + "We..ah, we've decided to get you your identity..." The man cocked +his head. What sort of curios talk was this? An identify was not a tangible +thing. "It's backed up on a...a machine. A really big machine." Frank and +Julie looked at each other, quietly contemplating what they were about to do. + + "Ten-Five, I got that." Officer DeGoye looked at his partner, +Emmerson. "Seems like that computer whiz, whazzhisname, Simon, Simon Holten, +got a lead on those people that robbed his computer or something...seems +that they're a couple. Wanted big." + + Emmerson sighed. "Where have the days gone where the crooked folks +just stole from a house? I can't imagine someone tryin' ta steal from a +computer." + + "Strange times we in, pal." DeGoye radioed into dispatch. "Can we +have a repeat on that address?" + + The scientists pulled up, already loading a few weapons they had +brought with them, guaranteeing the secure capture of their experiment. As +the apartment came into view, there were two police cars outside the +vinicity. "Interesting", one of the scientists stated. Perhaps the police +had beat them to the man? + + + + 7 : Collision + + The policemen looked at the record that the suspects had. Mostly +computer hacking, divulging into information unlawfully, nothing gigantic. +As they got out, they noticed a faint whiff of gunpowder. They glanced at +each other. + + "These...records aren't up to date? They could do arms smuggling, +right?" + + "Not that I know of...ahm..." They opened the trunk, removing their +shotguns. People with a record this long could be very dangerous. Walking +up the steps, they made their trek up the stairs to room 113. + + Julie and Frank finally agreed on an idea so ludicrous that they +could only pull it off with extreme planning. The man, having no real +knowledge of computers, nevertheless decided that it was a good idea. They +were both in the middle of making the main outline when they saw a white van +pull up behind two police cars. Julie and Frank were immediately nervous +about the recently-spotted police. The man, however, had yet to see the +van. + The policemen huddled outside the final interior-stairwell to room +113. They armed themselves, and glanced down the hallway at the door. No +movement. No indication that they knew they were there. DeGoye decided that +it was time to crack down on the criminals, as he slowly loaded the shotgun. + The scientists, rather, four of them, decided for themselves that a +pistol would be good enough for the capture of the man. Four pistols against +one man. Simple. As they rounded the final stairwell, they were faced with +the backs of two policemen. + Frank and Julie rushed around the apartment, gathering their things +and stuffing them into their backpacks, apparently for their final leave. +The man looked at each of his pistols, regarding their beauty, as he also +prepared. Then, they heard a faint noise a the top of their stairway. + + "What are you all doing here?," the scientist hissed angrily +at the police. + + "What are you doing here?" the policeman said, just as sharp. + + "We happened to be in the process of tryin' ta get a few perps in +that room, and I'll be damned if you lab-boys are gonna screw this one up. +We gotta couple of real criminals in there," DeGoye said. + + The scientist was puzzeled. "Room 113? We happen to be, ah, getting +someone there, too...now, in fact." The scientist took the policeman off +guard, shoving his way past him and running to the door, throwing it open. + + The blast shook the walls, flaking bits of plaster around the hall. + + Julie, the man, and Frank covered their ears as a figure stormed +into the room, stumbled onto the wire they had set, and triggered the bomb +that was lodged onto the upper doorway frame. They were temporarily blinded +by the rain of plaster and smoke that bombarded them, and then a barrage of +gunshots were fired from the hallway. The man judged them to be pistols, but +there was a blast with much more bass, maybe a shotgun. They were safe to +the left of the door, behind the kitchen counter, but what if the cops were +to storm in? Now that Julie thought about it, the shots fired sounded like +much more than one cop. A lot more. She waved some of the smoke away, +glancing down the building. Still two cars, and a few panicked citizens of +the apartment complex running into the street. But still, two cop cars. What +was going on? + The scientists gaped at the blast, light streaming through the broken +door, sparkling through the thick layer of smoke dominating the hallway. +Both the scientist and the policeman were taken back, and they all fired at +the doorway, practically in unity, but with no visible results. They backed +down. One of the policeman glared at the scientist. "Nice job there, pal. +You guys have a clue as to whatcha all are doing?" One of the scientists +muttered under his breath. "A lot more that you, officer. A lot more that +you." + The man smelt the air. Gunpowder. He could feel the alternate part +of him sliding around, washing his insides with its black fluid, growling +like an animal. Wanting to get out. The man contained it, sweating. Then, +he saw the van. Gunpower... Taste it.. + + + + 8 : flip + + The man felt a storm rush through his veins. The bad men were here. +Here now. And in his hands he held the death-giving steel, two metallic +weapons, that delivered the gift of death to all that opposed him. Rising +from behind the couch, he simultaneously loaded both pistols, leaping in +front of the door. In a roll, he fired off both clips of the pistol, pumping +bullets into the hallway. He heard screams. Return fire. But not enough to +catch him. He hid in the trench of the fireplace, awaiting the next barrage. + Frank and Julie watched, gaping, at the quiet man they previously +knew fired madly at the pursuers. What the hell were lab-boys doing there? +As far as Frank and Julie knew, they didn't want them..Julie and Frank both +saw the open window, and they motioned to the man, who acknowledged their +signs. The window. An escape. As Frank ran to the window, he tried to look +brave for Julie. Only he knew that, in fact, he was about to faint from fear. + The man poked both nozzles of the pistols into the hallway, squeezing +off another round at the Hunters and Bad Men. He heard more screams, and saw +the escape route. He knew that he must protect the lives of Julie and Frank. +He did, after all, owe them gratitude. Firing again, he ran backwards, +leaping out the window, twisting his body in midair, spinning before he +twisted his body and landed, on his feet, on the outside fire escape. + + Julie was stammering. "What..where do we.." The man spoke quickly. + + "The car. We don't have much time." Together, the threesome ran down +the stairwell, just as the upper floor blew up in a rosy fireball. + + The scientist watched as his partner loaded his weapon. "Where +did the prototype get weapons?", of them spat angrily. He was about to turn +around to his partner, and give him a good lecture, when a bullet passed +through his head, interrupting his thoughts and passing on whatever +information he was just going to say right onto the wall, in a pulpy, +crimson mess. He slid down to the floor, as the other scientist, shocked, +loaded his pistol and fired a few shots into the room. Not hitting anything, +he nevertheless felt better. A yell interrupted his thought, as two policemen +fell, thrown backwards, spurting blood. "Fire in the hull!" The scientist +ducked, just before he remembered that a policeman had snuck into the +apartment. The rocket flew past him, down the hall, to room 113. + The policeman perked his ears up. What was that noise? Sounded like +a lit fuse...it got closer. His eyes involuntarily trailed across the rocket +as it flew past him and into the wall two feet from him. + The entire hallway was flooded with fire, as the policeman and labmen +huddled into the stairway. The acrid smell of smoke, both fire and gunfire, +filled the hallway. As the smoke wafted away, they saw the open window, the +drapes, although burnt, were flapping in the open breeze. The policeman +commenced to running down the stairs as fast as they could, while the two +scientists stood in a daze. They expected a minor gunfight. Minor. As they +looked at the blackened hallway, and bullet holes riddling the woodwork, +they glanced at each other. Then followed the policeman. + + Julie and Frank watched the cop run out of the building, followed +by a few more, as they sped away in one of their cars. The others, they +would find, had the tires slashed. Just then, the SWAT van pulled up, +screeching to a halt. The policemen jammed themselves inside, and, after +waving their arms dramatically, and yelling a few unheard obscenities, they +sped after the police car holding the threesome. + + + + 9 : Countdown + + As the car drove along, they noticed that the man still had not +regained his...his sense. Loading the pistols, he looked at the sunroof. +Frank, still a bit shaken, looked at the man. His voice was carried a bit +by the wind. + + "What??...what are you looking for? You crazy nut, you almost +got us killed, we just wasted about half a squad of policeman!" Frank +turned himself in his seat, facing the man. + + "What are you thinking, huh?? Think we can just kill off cops, +and drive off into the sunset??" Frank was practically screaming. "Death +isn't like that! You can't sit there and kill humans like this! No matter +what they do!" The man's voice was a bit faint, but still hardened. + + "Right now, we cannot be bothered with such trivial matters. As you +will see momentarily, the Hunters have located us and are following us in +some method of transportation, apparently with more Hunters, and a rather +large quantity of ammunition. You may give that moving speech later. Right +now I suggest you open the sunroof." Frank looked in horror as the SWAT van +weaved out of traffic, following them. Frank looked to Julie. + + "Where are we going?" Julie shook her head. + + "I don't know...I suggest the CIA. It's only a small ways away." +Frank looked at her. They had about 20 cops on their tail, and they were +going to hack the CIA computers? Frank looked at the plans they had made, +jammed in the glove compartment. He glanced at Julie in disbelief. + + "No. Absolutely not. Forget it." + + Julie looked at him. "Right now, we don't have many options left." +They looked at each other. "Frank!" + + Frank jumped, turning to the man. The man looked at him. "Open +the sunroof.", he growled. Frank fumbled with the release, and finally +opened it. Julie and Frank, weaving in and out of traffic, discussing the +plans, almost didn't notice the man climb on top of the car, and crouch on +the trunk. + + The cop driving stared in disbelief as the man emerged from the top +of the car, his wild hair flying in the wind, and pushed himself out, +climbing down the car and crouching on the trunk. The cop was even more in +denial when the man pointed two pistols at the truck. Squeezing both +triggers, the glass spiderwebbed into pieces, but did not break. The +policeman yelled to the back. "The show's on! Get 'im!" The side doors +opened, and the SWAT team leaned out. Their rifles were pointed at the man. + Team Leader Rick Lowes grinned at this man that had supposedly +killed a squad of policemen. No bulletproof vest, even. He laughed. This was +going to be easier than he thought. He changed his mind when the pistols +that the man had flared, spitting out bullets and, one by one, taking down +all the other SWAT members before they could aim. They screamed, their blood +splattering the wall of the van. At least two fell out and were crushed +underneath following cars. Rick looked at the nozzle of the man's pistol, +a half-smile still on his face. His attitude faded. Reacting quick, he +whipped up the rifle he had. Crack. Rick Lowes fell before he could even +put his finger on the trigger. + Frank glanced at the man in disbelief. He had actually stood up on +the trunk of the moving car, firing round after round at the SWAT van. Shells +flying, he would reload in the blink of an eye, firing again and again. It +was almost as if he were possessed. Then, he did something even more +outrageous. As Frank drove, he leapt off the trunk, landing on the hood of +the speeding van, pumping round after round into the interior of the van. + The man felt free, as he leapt through the air, his feet pounding +on the hood, as he noticed several other shapes in the interior. Firing off +his weapons, he felt the wind in his hair as he shot round after round into +the cab. Sliding through the now- broken windshield, he finished off any +other Hunters that would be in this carriage of death. The walls were made +of bone, he noticed, as the blood of the guilty flooded the floor. He looked +around, noting that the driver was slumped over, spilling blood from his +mouth. The man quickly moved, grabbing the wheel and driving behind Julie +and Frank, shoving the corpse aside. They must get to this information +palace. This "See-eye-aye". + As the car sped, Julie and Frank worked out what they were going to +do. It was crazy. And extremely risky. Just the way they liked it. Frank +looked in the rearview mirror. The man had taken control of the truck, and +was driving behind them. They looked on the map. 23 miles to go, and they +would be there. Frank wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. Good God. How +did they get into this? + + + + 10 : Flip + + The car and the SWAT van swerved into a small diner, as Frank and +Julie got out. They jogged over to the side of the van, as the bewildered +man stepped out. The threesome went into the diner, selecting a secluded +booth to discuss their intentions. Julie leaned to Frank. Her hands were +shaking. + + "Frank...I don't know if we can do this. The possibility of failure +is too great. I mean..the CIA? THE CIA? What were we thinking in the first +place to even believe that we could hack it? We just do small jobs, that was +our promise, we just do minor hacks, that's it..." Julie was babbling, and +Frank touched her hand. + + "Julie, whatever this man is going through is not natural. The man +seems to have...I don't know...multiple personalities. Or something. I'm no +psychologist, but I'd say that this guy, whoever he is, is in desperate need +of some identification." + + Julie looked around the diner. The people here seemed so peaceful... +so oblivion to what was going on. "We have probably the whole state's police +on our trail. We have nothing left to do. We've gotten this far. Let's keep +going." + + No one ever thinks they will do what they do later on in life. + They find it far too ludicrous to comprehend. + But people's wills are made to surprise. + Three people found that statement very true. + + Waiting outside the massive complex of the CIA, the moon a full, +white orb hovering in the sky, Frank sat with his CB, ready for Julie to +signal. She was supposed to be wired into the communications bracket of the +CIA's mainframe, from a remote location on a CIA outlet near the building, +high up, via satellite and modem uplinks. Their plan was, supposedly, to +enter the CIA's computer mainframe, and get this man's identification. It +was insane. But Frank went with it, even as his shaking fingers activated +the laptop. The man was by him, looking around for any guards. Between a +slight hiss of static, he heard Julie's voice. + + "I've got the upl...k, but it's going t...ake some time." Frank +acknowledged, as he feverishly looked around the complex. Then, he looked +behind him. The man was gone. + + + + 11 : flip + + Fog drifted across the landscape, as the towering monstrosity +that was called the "see-eye-aye". He glared at it through bloodshot eyes. +The name was obviously of some forgien tongue, and he hated it even more +for that. Flicking the hammers back on the pistol, he approached the gate. + + Julie, through her perch, suddenly saw the man running across the +moonlit yard, approaching the CIA sub-building. "Oh hell..." Julie muttered, +quickly entering the mainframe database again, desperately looking for the +console that would let her disarm security. + + ________________________________ + | | + | CIA SECURITY DATABASE | + | WARNING: Any unauthorized | + | access to this database is | + |______________________________| + + Julie pressed a key, bypassing the drivel that she had read thousand +times over, hopelessly pushing the icons, trying to find a grid image, a +prompt, anything to allow the man to gain access to the CIA endurance +without him being shot first. She subliminally noticed the sound of an +airplane flying over her, high up in the sky, overshadowing the moon for an +instant and leaving a trail. Analyzing the monitor, she noticed a button. + + MainFrame .34.35.677-a + + Julie selected it, clicking on it. The HD whirred a few times, and +then the images flowed upon the screen: + + MainFrame Control Sequences and Options -.34.35.677-b Main + + There were rows of symbols. One caught Julie's eye. It was an +image of a lighting bolt, with a triangle around it. Julie selected it. + + MainFrame Control Sequences and Options -.34.35.677-b Main + |_MainElec Control -.34.35.678-a + [Select Grid] + + It was self-explanatory. Julie roamed the images until she identified +a grid called [Grid: Front Sector Alarm (Constat B)]. Two Icons were below, +"Arm" and "Disarm", and Arm was currently highlighted. + The man rushed further. The entrance was in sight. He noticed a +blinking red light outside the door; apparently the Hunters had gained +electronic information. No matter. Nothing could stand his death-giving +twin barrels. He aimed. + + Julie highlighted "Disarm". + + He fired. + + Julie clicked. There was a noticeable hum. + + The man watched the console disappear in a blaze of sparks and +spurts of fire. He huffed. Systems were nothing these days. + Julie breathed a sigh of release as she saw the security system +blow up, with no flashing lights or sirens. She was just in time. Then, she +heard the distant barking of dogs, and saw that 5 or 6 security men were +running around the corner. And the man was wide out in the open. + Frank watched in awe as the man shot the door, and shut his eyes +as he prepared to hear the wild flurry of sub-machine guns. Surprisingly, +there was none. Then, as the watched the man jog across the lawn, the +distant sound of dogs barking caught his ears. He looked back at the man. +In the few seconds Frank had turned his head, he was gone. + Julie saw the man from high up, and watched as he retreated to +the shadows of the building. The security men with the dogs rounded the +corner, yelling orders and looking around. + + *crackcrack* + + *crackcrack* + + Julie winced. She saw four of the men fall, crimson rising from +their chests, apparently their vests of no avail to them. The dogs, yapping +wildly, turned tail and fled. The last man, standing still, dropped the gun, +as his dog ran away, as well. He didn't notice the absence of the animal. +His eyes were transfixed on a darkened corner, as a man emerged, with two +smoking pistols. The an strode up to him, grabbing his collar, the security +man making no objections. From where Julie was, there were harsh words +delivered by the man, very hushed, but peaked in some seemingly urgent +parts of his voice, as parts of it carried over to Julie. The guard was +released, took a step back, and apparently was instructed to sit, and stay +there. The security guard began to sit, then whipped out his radio, speaking +rapidly into it. The man's eyes went wide, as he aimed his pistol with a +fluid motion. + + *crack* + + The guard fell onto his back from where he was sitting, flung to +the ground, already dead but still bleeding. Now the man acted faster. +Reaching down, he snapped an access card from the guard's body, looking +back at Frank. Frank understood. They had to move. + Julie gasped, realizing that the man had probably called for +reinforcements, and they were in a very precarious position. The man looked +up at Julie, gesturing for her to stay there. Julie understood, but +something disagreed inside of her. Their plans were going haywire, and +something bad was bound to happen. + Frank ran across the lawn, arriving with the man inside the +shadowed doorway, as the man, wordless, pulled out the card he had stolen +from the guard. He entered it into the glowing slot, as a distant clicking +was heard, then a sharp snap on the door. The man took the card, taking it, +and then gripped the doorknob. It turned. Frank and the man entered into +the depths. + + The first thing that came to Frank's mind when he entered was +hallways. There were so many of them...Frank brushed it off. His friend, +Simon, was a disgruntled, fired CIA employee, and more than happy to provide +Frank and Julie with maps to the interior of the building, at least +everywhere that he had been. Frank unfolded the map, looking at the broad +pictures and identifying where he had entered. He looked up. "Left here. We +keep going, and there should be an acceptable database or console we can +use in the 5th room." The man nodded, reloaded the pistols, and sprinted +down the hall. Frank wiped the sweat from his brow, and held the map with +trembling hands. This would be rather difficult. + + After reaching the room, a sigh was plastered to the front. It was +concerning access to the room, and when Frank arrived behind the man, the +man's expression was troubled as he read the sign. Frank swallowed. + + "What? What is it?" The man extended the ID card, and ran his finger +across the barcode on it, then gestured to the door. + + |SCIENTIST AND COMPUTER TECHNICIAN ACCESS ONLY| + + Damn. The access they currently had was too low. Frank suddenly +heard footsteps echo around the hallway, and felt the man grab at his +collar, moving him to another doorway, in front of it, facing the sound. +The man wordlessly slipped into a doorway in front of him. Frank's mind +raced with a plan. It found one. Frank only hoped that the man knew what +he was going to do. + + Timothy McBride walked down the hall, taking a right at the hallway, +mainly to fetch some papers and pick up some coffee from the machine. As he +walked, shifting through papers he was carrying, he looked out of the corner +of his eye, and saw a rather nervous, average-dressed man. He stood there, +smiled weakly. Timothy gave a slight glare. + + "Excuse me. Are you authorized in this area?" + + "Ah...I didn't know where to go, really. I'm supposed to fix the +ventilation here? Someone had called yesterday saying that they would let +me in here to fix it. I was just escorted by 2 men in here, and, ah, but +they left." + + Timothy's face suggested disbelief. "What? Where's your suit? Your +identification?" Frank eyed the card on Timothys shirt. "Oh! Ah, it's right +here, let me get my card out..." Timothy walked closer in order to see +proper identification. As he came beside the man, he saw a movement in one +of the dark doorways. What the...? + "Uhf!" Timothy McBride dropped as a pistol butt made contact with +the back of his head. The man came out of the shadows, ripped the access +card from the man's shirt, and strode to the aligning doorway, sliding the +card through it. + + *crack* + + The door became unlocked. They entered. + + The room was somewhat bare, with no one in it, thank god. Dragging +Timothy McBride into the room, the man shut the door silently behind them. +The room was flooded with a dim glow of a monitor, as Frank turned on the +lights. A desk with papers strewn about, a pencil tin, the computer, and a +lamp and a bookcase decorated the mediocre room. Frank clicked the CB on. + + "Julie, we're in." He heard a sigh of relief through the CB, crackly +and distorted. "-nk god, Frank. I-ght you were gone. Ne-structions?" +Frank agreed, and the man watched as Julie's crackly voice guided him to +the keyboard, and he typed a flurry of characters in the password prompt. +The CIA logo flashed on the screen, and then millions of lines of text +appeared on the screen, scrolling down fast. "We're in", Frank breathed +hoarsely. + + Julie felt warm despite the cool night air. "OK, take out the PhotoCD +you have, with the man's picture on it. The computers should be fast enough +that you can match a face with a name in a matter of minutes. If he's not +in the base, he doesn't exist." Julie heard a muffled "OK", and a CD drive +whirring in the background. "OK, load the picture from the CD-ROM drive." + + "Got it" + + "OK, now there should be a set of parameters that you can mark. +For now, just put Male. That's all we know." + + "Awright. Done. Now scan?" + + "Yes." + + "...it's scanning." + + Frank watched the lines of text disappear, scrolling over and out +on the screen, the hard disk clicking. The CD-ROM light flashed a few times, +and then the line narrowed down to one line. The silence in the room was +awkward, as the cursor blinked steadily on one line. They had found it. Frank +looked at the man as his finger rested on the Enter key. "Want me to...?" The +man nodded quickly. Frank pressed enter, and Jeffrey Adams McGuire's entire +life poured over the screen. + + Julie heard Frank breath "We got it. It's his info-ion. All-f it." +Julie grinned. They had done it. Just then, sirens shrieked all over the +complex. + + Frank leapt up, looking around. Timothy McBride had accessed his +CB, painstakingly slow, and hoarsely yelled. "Broken into...Code 5!" The +man whipped out the pistol. "No!" Frank yelled. McBride's head splattered +out upon the door. The hand still clutched the Transmit button on the CB. +Whoever was listening had heard everything. + + Sirens broke out upon the CIA complex. Frank jammed a disk into +the drive, copying Jeffrey's information. They were cutting it close. The +man stood by the door, sweating, both pistols armed, two fresh clips loaded +in them. Sirens shrieked as the info transferred from the CIA databases to +the disk. Frank tapped his fingers impatiently upon the desk. "Come on, +come on..." Julie's voice broke over the CB. "Frank, get the hell out of +there!" + + "I'm getting the information!" Frank snapped back, watching the +data transmit. Then, his blood ran cold. + + |ILLEGAL DATABASE TRANSFER/ACCESS. THIS SESSION IS TERMINATED| + + The data status bar jumped suddenly, and Frank ejected the disk +out of the drive quickly, leaving the A drive clicking and searching for a +disk. They snagged the PhotoCD, and opened the door, running into the +hallway. Sprinting left, they headed toward the way they entered. Frank +heard the sound of heavy boots clomping on the hallway, much too close for +comfort. Jeffrey armed the pistols, twisting while running and firing back +at the impending armada. Frank heard screams, as well as returned gunfire. +A bullet ricocheted near his left leg, and he cried out and ran faster. Too +close. Almost there. Jeffrey turned the corner before him, pressing against +the wall and peeking the barrels of the pistols own the hallway, the muzzles +erupting fire. Shells clattered on the floor, as Frank ran past him, the +door in sight. Almost there. The man was running alongside him now. + + A bullet caught Frank just below the shoulderblades, driving +through his back and coming out the front of him, his blood spraying. Frank +dropped, pitching to the floor, landing on his back. Jeffrey stopped, +(notnowpleaseno) mouth agape, then ran a step in front of Frank, firing +off the remaining rounds at the guards. The last few remaining fell. Jeffrey +sprinted back to Frank. Frank was looking at Jeffrey with weak eye contact +and a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. Jeffrey bend +closer, looking at Frank's wound. Definitely terminal. Frank coughed. + + "Jeffrey...gotta go with...Julie. Find the..." Frank paused, coughing +up a slight amount of blood. "...the truth." A tear slid out of the corner +of his eye, as he weakly whispered out a few more words. "Make sure...Julie +knows that I...love her." Jeffrey nodded quickly, still in shock. He stirred +slightly, and then Frank Reynolds died. + + After getting the disk and the PhotoCD, the man shut his eyes, +already hearing more people coming, and decided he should leave the building. +But not yet. The man seemed to have something bothering him that made him, +he found, very, very angry. He loaded both pistols again, standing over +Frank's body. The guards came. The man reacted. The guards died. + + Julie was nervous. No action except gunfire. Suddenly, light poured +across the lawn, as the man ran across the lawn. Julie quickly dismounted +where she was, heading toward the same van that the man was, putting the CB +away and disconnecting the laptop. Where was Frank? + + The man leapt in the van, sliding to the driver's seat, gunning +the engine. Julie entered the back, slamming the door. The tires squealed as +the van sped away from the building, bullets punching holes in the side of +the van. One window shattered. Julie dropped to the floor of the van, hugging +the floor. She looked up, screaming over the bullets. "Where's Frank?!?" The +man clenched his jaw, speeding from the building. He was leaving part of +him behind. + + + + 12 : flip + + The sun slowly rose over the road, barren and grey, no one driving +yet. The van was still speeding, Julie now driving. Her eyes were wet, tears +glistening. Suddenly, the van stopped, and pulled over to the side of the +road. Julie Reynolds leaned her head against the wheel, and cried for a long +while. The man shut his eyes, a lock of hair drifting over his eyes, as he +listened to Julie sob. This was all wrong. It shouldn't have to be like +this, he thought. He shook his head. Standing, he moved to the driver's +side, putting an arm around Julie's shaking frame. They stayed like that +for almost the whole morning. + + The laptop booted. Julie and Jeffrey had eaten lunch at a roadside +cafe, and now were by the side of the road. Jeffrey gave Julie the disk. +There were spots of blood on it, and Julie quickly put the disk into the +drive, shutting her eyes. Accessing it, the man got up and paced, looking +at the skyline. It was too much. It was his life. He bowed his head, waiting +for the disk to finish loading. + + Julie swallowed. "Jeffrey..." Jeffrey turned when he noticed the +waver in Julie's voice. She looked up at him with wet eyes. "It...it didn't +finish." Jeffrey's brow furrowed, as he looked at the data. Halfway through +the file, the text turned into jumble signals. + + ...is currently enrolled at an asylum under ground + tha_- + _|hj[%j&. + + It continued like that for almost 6 pages. Jeffrey smiled. This +is what it was. This was his search, his dream, only to be stopped by a +death and an interrupted transfer. The irony of it all. He let a tear come +out of his eye. What now...Jeffrey looked at the monitor. + + "Go up. My address, we could..." Julie scrolled up. It was there. +Julie looked up at Jeffrey. There was a silence as they both contemplated +what the stakes would be if they continued the mission. Julie thought. + + "Well...we'll need more gas." + + After nerve-wracking announcements on the radio of the recent CIA +break-in resulting in 23 deaths, including one suspect, the van arrived in +Arizona, in front of a house. The man nodded. "This is it." The paint was +cracking, the lumber rotting slightly, and it was a rather small home. They +tromped up the porch, their footsteps echoing hollowley, as they entered the +house. The door was unlocked. The man seemed to know where he was going. + The inside of the house was mediocre, with a couch, a small kitchen, +and a few other little things. Jeffrey went up the stairs. Julie followed, +and finally found Jeffrey in a room that faced the back of the house. He +was kneeling. Julie went next to him, a lock of brown hair falling over her +left eye as she knelt, looking at what the man was looking at. A gasoline +jug, still full. Julie was confused. The man looked up, his eyes brimming +with tears. He stood, looked out the window, and then dropped his head. + The area in back of his house was rather normal, except for one +thing. There was a small pile of lumber, charred, blackened, and a few gas +jugs beside it, melted. The ground was scorched. The man had come to terms. + + It was all true. + + He clenched his teeth. There were no hunters. The drug dealers +were all true. He had killed them. He had killed guards. He was living in +two different worlds. Julie's eyes looked up at him. + + "Jeffrey?...Jeffrey?? Jeffrey, look at me. Please." He looked at +her. Her eyes were blue, he realized. He had never noticed that at all. She +smiled. + + "It's time for your medication." + + Jeffrey clenched his eyes, looking again at her. They weren't in +his house anymore. Clean white walls surrounded them. Julie began shimmering. +Jeffrey reached out to touch her; found that he couldn't. A straightjacket +surrounded him. He cried as she slipped away, her image giving way to a +nurse. She held a syringe. "Come on now." + The man kicked out, thrashing as she injected him. He cried, cried +for everyone, cried for himself, cried for everything, cried for all the +unborn souls that would have to live. The nurse stood by him, as the doctor +and the crowd of spectators looked in. "It's a sad state. The man really +knows no literary skills, except for what is shown here." He gestured to +the walls of the room the man was in. + + From six feet all the way to the floor, in black ink, were the +words FRANK and JULIE scrawled over and over. The crowd ooh'd and ahh'd. +The doctor spoke through the intercom. "Nurse." He looked back at the crowd. + + "That isn't all." The nurse lifted the slightly-sedated man's +straightjacket up a bit, and his shirt lifted to show his bare midsection. +The words WHO AM I were scarred into his chest. The audience was shocked, +drawing back a bit, madly taking notes. The crowd advanced as the nurse +exited, closing the door. The crowd moved forward except for one person. +A blue-eyes, brown-haired woman looked through the window, at the man. She +touched the glass. The man's dark eyes, almost shut, made contact with +the womans gaze. He saw her smile, and the corners of his mouth tugged up, +as well, smiling back, accepting as his world slowly closed, a tear +trickling out of his eye as his body accepted his world for what it was. + + Sunlight streamed through the windows of the asylum, as it +illuminated the marble floor. The willow tree's branches wistfully flowed +in the breeze, sending a rustling sound through the windows. The sun rose +up higher, almost high enough to touch the heavens, as rays shone own upon +the earth, as it tilted on it's axis and continued to rotate, sending people +through day after day. + + + The End + + + + + Epilogue + +I was thinking of quite a few different endings. One would be that they +would gain the information from the CIA, and find that the man was actually +a key role in something. It could be good, it could be bad. Or that they +would actually have to rely on the information of a drug lord. Jeffrey +would naturally be in a rage about that, and after they had all they needed +from the drug lord, Jeffrey would kill him in rage. In any way, this story +balances on the borderline of reality, sanity, and what is true and what's +not. I hope you enjoyed it. + + --Flood '96 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0349.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0349.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f5b2f5f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0349.txt @@ -0,0 +1,120 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Lovely Hate + ----------- + + I'm sitting here on a bus to chicago, I can feel my stomach emptying +more the closer we arrive to the next stop. Surrounding me are sounds, +many sounds. Most of them are coming from behind me as I am sitting a bit +towards the front of the bus. It is the sounds that bother me, not the +hunger in my stomach or the screaming of the children when they dont get +what they want, but these sounds of ignorance. I have heard the saying +"Ignorance breeds hate." I am now a firm believer in that theory. + + I can overhear a conversation by what sounds like a small white man +and a large black man. Not a conversation of hate for each other but a +slightly different hate under the pretence of not having hate at all. +Instead of being bitter twoards one another these two ignorant souls found +a mutual hatred, one that they could enjoy together. Just this far into +the trip they have complained about latinos and how they "come to our +country and take our jobs" with such comments as "they are worthless if +they cant speak the language" and with such compassion as "instead of +coming here we should go set up shops down there so they can work" obviously +neither one of them have ever been to mexico and expierenced the way of +life there, the low priced corruption of the government, the degradation +of working on the streets for the big american dollar. + + With his nasal whine of a voice the smaller sounding white guy is +insistant on the bus driver stopping this very second so he can have a +cigarette, I myself am a smoker so I can understand the desire for nicotiene +but even after being informed that the next stop is less than an hour away +he makes such commentary as "I should throw the driver out the door and +drive this damn thing myself" he is quite persistent even though some of +the other passengers have asked him to settle down and be patient. + + The larger sounding black man speaks of such "high paying" jobs as the +last one he had at McDonalds, apparently content with his lack of income. +Both of them speak broken "white trash" and "nigger" english yet they seem +to be communicating with little to no problem. Both of them are quite loud +and obnoxious. while discussing the worthlessness of latino people in general +(the whole time assuming none of them were born here and all were "imported") +they made a special effort to be heard by the several latinos sitting +directly behind me. + + They have now moved onto the topic of people of asian descent and how +they are meant for nothing more than being servants when americans visit +their asianatic countries, and as with the latino conversation they are being +sure to be heard by the asian gentleman sitting to my immediate right, +someone of whom I had just finished quite a stimulating conversation with a +few minutes before I started this article. + + As I'm sitting here the stench of diapers has made its way to me and of +course this brings much comment from the two ignorant fools sitting in the +back, such colorful statements as "holy shit what died in here", "mmmm smells +good, just like a burrito", (with emphasis on the word burrito as to offend +the latino passengers) well, its time for a stop, I think I'll go have +something to eat and mabye a cigarette. + + After a very filling meal and a smoke I'm back. During our little stop +I got a good look at the two ignorants, just as I had envisioned them, the +white guy, a small framed man with facial hair as you would have expected +to see in the late seventies, the black man still stuck in the "eazy-e" +style of the 80's. They spent most of their time during the breal talking +to one another as I dont think anyone else on the bus would talk to them if +they begged. They seem to have quieted down after being fed. the natives are +restless no more. + + +Why hide hate behind a facade of tolerance for one another? + +Why bother continuing to voice your outdated and ignorant opinions when its +quite apparent that the only people listening is yourselves? + +Even if one is intent on expressing these thoughts why not do some research +into the subject matter and form valid arguments for you feelings? + +Judging by the lack of coherent full sentences and the excuses for their +feelings I doubt either of these men will make a contribution to the world. + +I also found it amusing that no matter what their self worth is (at this +point in time I'm thinking its about that of a head of cabbage) they always +found an excuse to belittle other individuals, even entire races and +ethnicities. + + + Well, it was only a matter of time. The two who were so in agreement +are now at each others throats and the large black guy is threatening to +throw the smaller white guy off the bus. I could only hope that they both +fall off and the rest of the ride can be enjoyed. It's time for another +stop, I'll be back. + + This short stop proved to be quite interesting. The ignorant white guy +was thrown off the bus and arrested for being intoxicated as he had +apparently been drinking heavily for most of the trip. The black guy has +settled down and remained quiet, so now if I could only get the screaming +kids to shut up I might get some sleep. I can try at least. + + +-zens + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0350.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0350.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..30951ad0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0350.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + death and the maiden + -------------------- + + it was quiet + the forest creaked in it's + [ eternalness ] + like a house + settling + in the dark. + he sat in the + [ moon spun ] + shadows and listened + to the night pass + and he thought + of her. + + he thought of the pure + white curve of her + throat and the crease + where it met her jaw. + pale lips and high + cheekbones, + [ achingly ] + beautiful. + + sweet hell music + the din + the noise + he had to had to + [ had to ] + do it + (why'd you do it?) + + a rain drop slapped + a leaf and he + saw with pure + clarity the + gentle roundness + of her + stomach as + he + [ tore ] + through it with + a glittering + blade. + + she broke him. + he heard the + [ shatter ] + when she spoke + the words, the + white teeth like + (fangs)(claws) + as her voice lilted + methodically. + + i don't want you + [ anymore ] + you lie lie lie + he giggled and saw + the shadows creep + even further from + his heart + + he put her eyes + in his + pocket and + fell + asleep. + + Palpable Obscure + + "you darkness that i come from i love you more than + all the fires that fence in the world.." + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0351.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0351.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..79a5ebd3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0351.txt @@ -0,0 +1,231 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Playing With Fire + ----------------- + +I have never thought of myself that attractive. +People say otherwise. +Whatever. +Looks are so materialistic. + +But the funny thing is, I am egotistical enough to think I am the best damn +thing since the slice of bread. + +Whatever. +My standard response. + +Here is the paradox. and while this can be appropriately applied to me, I +have seen this applied to too many people in reality. + +When I am put in a situation where in essence I have to prove myself, in +some way or some ideal, I am *the* best damn thing that you will ever see. I +am more stronger emotionally, physically, mentally. the most intelligent, +the most everything that you've ever seen and I *will* rock your world. + +And it works, because confidence is attractive isn't it? + +On the flipside, media is screaming at me: you are nearly 6' tall? You have +to weigh 8lbs, have hunks of blonde hair, be incredibly stupid and like +sex occasionally. + +And that is such bullshit. how can I strive to be "me" in every sense of +the word, to explore and find myself, to stretch and become myself, to grow +and to learn about myself if the goddamn media is feeding me this tripe on +such a basis that I'm literally screaming "fuck off" in my mind every time +that I see some walking clothes hanger walk by me. Because when she does, +for the briefest of seconds I mentally beat myself up for not being the +things that I described above. + +Whatever. + +That irks me more then anything else. That while I am still learning about +me, my likes, my dislikes, that I have to fight Madison avenue at every +possible moment. + +And its not the print, vision or Internet media, its the bimbo's that I see +everytime I step out of the house who are running around with copies of +cosmo, vogue, sticking their fingers down their throat, letting themselves +be taken advantage of by guys in the name of love, being scared to be alone, +to be strong, to be themselves. + +FUCK THAT! + +All in the name of beauty. +All in the name of being loved. +All in the name of being accepted. +All in the name of getting fucked. +All in the name of every conceivable media muckraking machine piece of crap +that ever existed. + +When I was 20 years old, I dated a guy named Alan. This was love. This was +everything I dreamed it would be. Sexually I let loose and did things I had +only dreamed about. And as every post-teenage-angst being fed on a diet of +diet coke and diet pills, we went shopping one day. He turned around and +looked at me while saying most earnestly "you know, with your face and Cindy +Crawfords body, you would make a lot of money modeling". Isn't that nice? +yes, I thought so. Turns out he was fucking another girl for the majority +of our relationship (1.5 years). Isn't that nice? I am sure he liked the +fact that I beat the shit out of his 'fiancee' in a night club after I +turned 21. + +Now that I am getting older, I am less conscious of how my face and body +looks. It doesn't stop though. Men still sniff around regardless of how +much I weigh, or if my hair is short/long or if I'm suffering from the +lovely monthly round of zits from pms. + +Something about me... +Playing with fire... + +This fuck file came along when I was just browsing the web and looking at +sites at random. A friend of mine came online and we were talking about our +first meeting which occurred recently. He had taken me to his place of +business, and we had met an associate of his. + +Now this meeting was all innocent between my friend and I. He is in fact my +publisher who contacted me about a year ago about putting my writings in a +book form and actually be printed. We were meeting to talk about various +and sundry things. And I do not have a habit on cheating on my boyfriend's. + +But I digress. My friend and I were talking online tonight about the first +meeting and setting up another meeting soon to go over business related +things, when he related that his associate came up and said to him, in +reference of me, "your playing with fire". + +This never fails to amuse me. Because it seems that there is something +about 'me' that is different then anyone else. My ex-boyfriend Dan kept +saying that to me when I left Michigan to come to San Francisco. "Something +about you, that I have never seen, will never see again. I love you". + +And that is the common thread it seems in all my life. Some deep inner part +of me is calling out to just about everyone. Something inside of me that +seems to shake people at the core of their souls that makes me unforgettable. + +Enough of "something" to be the product (indirectly) of marriage breakups, +relationship breakups. I have had guys change their minds about one girl +only to like me. I have been accused of sleeping with a majority of these +people (not true). + +And I'm tired. + +I'm tired of the competition, of the bullshit, of the pseudo lying and the +theorizing of who and what I am. + +And is it not ironic that Dan and I's song 'The Freshman' by the Verve +Pipe is playing on the radio? I traveled 2000 miles to get away from that +song, local heroes gone bigtime, only to be assaulted by it on a 15 song +rotation. + +"When I was young I knew everything +and she a punk who rarely ever took advice +now i'm guilt stricken +sobbing with my head on the floor +stop a baby's breath and a shoe full of rice + +I can't be held responsible +cause she was touching her face +I won't be held responsible +she fell in love in the first place + +for the life of me +I can't remember +what made us think we were wise and +we'd never compromise +for the life of me I cannot believe +we'd ever die for these sins +we were mearly freshman..." + + +I probably never told him (Dan) what he really meant to me. Maybe I was a +cunt bitch from hell, maybe there was too many wrongs, and I wouldn't +compromise. Because when all is said and done, I walk away being the one +with the most cake. + +My friend from the meeting said this about me tonight: +"You are a magnificent puzzle-maker +one of the best I have seen +but like every puzzle-maker, you on some level +want the pieces assembled +and the clues to the puzzle are scattered... +throughout the writing you have scattered on the +Net and such +and if one cares to read your writing verrry verrrry +closely +one finds, in the contradictions, the Scyllas and +Charybdis's" + + +While my boyfriend is at porno sites. +And while i trip walking down the street looking up at the clear night sky. +I marvel how I got from here to there. +as I walk in city lights bookstore, running my fingers ever so delicately +at all the wonderful books +as I sit indian style at my computer picking a scab on my knee +as my cat gives the both of us evil looks +as I scratch my ear +as I yawn + +I wonder what tomorrow brings +where the day breaks +where I begin and end +while loving that I am me, and not some 'normal' mundane person concerned +about their 2.5 kids and picket fence +while I dream about an apt in Chinatown + +maybe this made no sense. +I don't give a shit. I never make sense, least of all to myself. But the +moral of the story is that what seems to be lacking in many people is the +need to dream. The need to be. The need to go beyond the bullshit and to +push ourselves into some sort of oblivion that doesn't exist. The need to +break beyond the media, the muckrakers, the fucked up bullshit world we +live in. A place that only exists in our minds. A place of worthy entrance +and only the accepted are allowed to come in. + +Maybe all we wanted was to be loved for ourselves. +But we won't allow to that happen now will we boys and girls. +No we won't. +We will be force feed what type of bullshit to buy from our condoms to our +toilet paper to wipe our lilly white asses with. +And we are all struggling thinking we are all so unique and ohh soo +different when all we are is nothing but a bunch of sheep being lead to the +slaughter by mind control of the media. + +And me? +Am i included in this we? + +Fuck no. +I will be dancing naked around a ring of fire while the rain pours. +Hoping against hope that everything I've begun to search for will come to me. +Plotting the stars. +Reading a book that i bought without the help of ads. +And listening to the voices in my mind. + +Because I'm not an addict. +Really. +I'm not. + +(and this is a lie.) + +-simunye +June 7, 1997 +4:31 am + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0352.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0352.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c8adf48c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0352.txt @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Losers + ------ + +In my sociology class, the teacher briefly said, "Do not bitch until you do +something to change the situation." + +True, only losers keep complaining about the problems they have. They +complain that the government is a mess, the company is treating them like +shit, the educational system is stupid, etc. but all of them say "oh but we +can't change the society because it's already so fucked up." Losers believe +all the politicians only want the power and money without even reading +about them. Of course, they don't vote. They don't vote, yet they still +bitch about the result; they are too ignorant to know they are the ones who +let the Republicans win in their area. Losers believe someone will clean +the trash they threw out of the car window without spending their tax +money. Losers are the ones who do things because "everyone else does." + +The society is made of PEOPLE, and if it doesn't change, it's OUR problem. +We are more or less lazy asses that don't even bother to try. We tend to +believe what "everyone else" says, without being sure who that "everyone" +is. We act as though we are cool "individuals" with unique mind, but we +are in fact letting a few people control our whole life. The freedom we +believe in is bullshit because we use it as an excuse to be selfish, lazy +and ignorant to keep ourselves from confronting the "real" problems we +have. And guess what, we still bitch on daily basis, after repeating "we +cannot change anything," without giving up on everything and becoming an +obedient slave. (Hello? Are you waiting for the God or some kind of hero to +change the situation?) + +I have no way of liking or wanting to hang out with my sociology teacher +because she is a very religious Catholic who believes in "morality" that I +disagree at some point, yet I do respect her for not being a "loser". Her +life is based on what she believes in, and if someone does not agree with +her, she questions until she completely understands why (that is why we +have arguments sometimes). I've seen her yelling at the manager of the +college bookstore when they raised the price of our textbook without +notice. She is a person who would actually call up the Mayor and tell him +"I don't like what you are doing," even if it doesn't change the situation. + +In One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, McMurphy said, "Well, at least I +tried." Can we say the same thing before we start bitching? + + +Psycho "The Loser" +June 7, 1997 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0353.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0353.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..71e86d1d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0353.txt @@ -0,0 +1,125 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Do We Condemn Ourselves? + ------------------------ + + (Hypothetically Speaking) + An Answer to that Age-Old Cop-Out + + First off, know I am an atheist[and a Satanist, I will not + bother explaining to those who don't understand in this article]--I + don't believe in God. The purpose of this essay is to show the + nature of the Christian God concept, how flawed it is, how it + cannot make sense. Know from here on when I speak of "God" I am + speaking in a hypothetical, "let's say he exists" sense. + + The first thought that made me question the Christian God + concept--"A loving god is not capable of condemning someone + forever" is often responded with something to the nature of "We + condemn ourselves. God isn't responsible." This is about the only + defense towards God's vengeful nature. That and, of course, "God's + reasons are beyond human understanding." + + Here's an analogy--is an abortion doctor responsible for the + "crime of abortion", or does it all fall on the woman? Personally, + I'm impartial regarding abortion and its "moral questions", but it + seems most Christians are against abortion. Most would say the + doctor is "very" responsible--but the doctor doesn't make the + choice. The woman makes the decision "I will have an abortion", + she is not forced. [Once again, I am not condemning a woman who + chooses abortion.] Why should the doctor be held responsible? The + human makes the choice to "defy" god--to stop believing in him, or + not to accept him. The human indirectly might "condemn himself", + but who actually sends the soul to hell? God does the final act, + I assume, for what sane being would say "I was a bad boy, therefore + I will go to hell now." People might attack this analogy by + extending it--"But abortion doctors are evil!"--The question is + indirect or direct responsibility, not good and evil--"God is all + loving"--The point is not good or evil, remember--"God surpasses + logic and analogy"--Assuming we believe in your God, and what kind + of cop-out is that? Your god must exist for me to be condemned. + He is responsible, it seems. + + [Someone might say I'm twisting scripture, some might even say + the vengeful nature of God is not to be taken literally. Most of + the error in the Bible is blamed on human error when Christians + defend it, or on mistranslation. But do you think a truly all- + powerful God would "inspire" a book destined to be deceptive from + the start? And why would his divine word need to be twisted and + corrected to make sense? If all errors in the Bible are because of + human limitation, then human twisting and contorting of scripture + is just as prone to "error". When the literal meaning falls out to + science or common logic, hidden "occulted" meanings are searched + for. Give up already! Genesis is a MYTHICAL STORY. You don't see + modern Greeks looking for hidden meanings in the old Zeus creation + story! Obsolescence is obsolescence!] + + AND WHY MUST CONDEMNATION EXIST? Because God says so. An + omnipotent being doesn't *HAVE* to do anything! And an + omnibenevolent being could respond to any spite, smite, or defiance + with calm and kind understanding. Condemnation only exists because + your God decided to make it so. Humans don't hold power against + your God, do they? So it's not OUR FAULT, is it? We didn't say + "Now you must condemn us if we're bad." Adam and Eve[this is all + assuming these things existed/happened] did not know that defying + god was wrong, did they? They HAD NO KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL! + It seems man was damned from the start, under your creation myth-- + God makes man, God allows temptation of man, God punishes man who + doesn't even know what evil is until he commits in. Let's put it + this way: + + Be Good. + What is good? And why must I be good? + You do not know. Be good because I am good, and I said so. + Why do you say so? + Because I will condemn you otherwise. + Why must you condemn me? + Because I have to. + Why? + Because I made it so, and because I said so. + + God puts forth the final act of soul-destruction. God sends + the soul to hell. Condemnation is only necessary because God says + so. Why must it exist? Because he says so. Can you not see how + INCREDIBLY INSANE THIS IS? + + The conclusion: Your god cannot exist. I know if I ever + confronted him, I would not humble myself to him--I would kick his + ass in a religious debate. Stop searching for hidden meanings. + The Bible is obsolete. + + Update: Many times things such as "evil" and "bad things in + general" are blamed on the devil. Psycho Freak Jack Van Impe + lately has been putting the blame on ALIENS, which are of + course..LUCIFER'S ANGELS. But go beyond that. Who created this + "Lucifer"? God, being omniscient, knew his "angel of light" would + fall. Under an omniscient, omnipotent God responsible for all that + exists[knowing the outcome of his creation] wouldn't he deserve the + original blame for everything that could go wrong? Question the + concept of this "God", and think for yourself. "Who knows God's + reasons?" is nothing more than a cop-out that allows one to let + someone else do their thinking. + + + by Lord_H + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0354.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0354.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..89b64dbd --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0354.txt @@ -0,0 +1,178 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + How The Hell Do You Stand It At All? + ------------------------------------ + + The following was crossposted over USENET to several different + newsgroups, and I happened to run into it on rec.sport.pro-wrestling. It + was posted by a guy named Edgar from Britain who had a job in the United + States for a few months, and he comments on our television programming. I + thought it was interesting to see the views of somebody completely + impartial, and he supports a lot of what I've touched on in previous + articles I've written for other e'zines. The commentary isn't exactly + revolutionary (these things Edgar brings up have been said hundreds of times + before) but I find it particularly important because it's from an outsider. + + Note that I attempted to get in contact with Edgar via email. I wanted + to get more information so I could add to this piece; what is different + about British television? Could you compare and contrast? Unfortunately, + after a few weeks I haven't received a response, so I'm releasing this as + is. + + Also note that I edited this slightly as far as simple grammar goes + (commas, semi-colons, etc) but the remainder is as I found it. Another + thing to keep in mind is that, because Edgar is from Britain, he uses + different spelling (most obvious is "programmes" instead of "programs" or + the usage of S instead of Z). Anyway, enough of the introduction. Here. + + + ******* + + + From edc@comtex.co.uk Thu May 29 23:50:18 1997 + Newsgroups: alt.politics.equality,rec.arts.tv,rec.sport.pro-wrestling, + rec.arts.tv.uk.misc,uk.media.tv.misc,rec.arts.tv.soaps.misc, + alt.books.george-orwell,soc.culture.british, + alt.renewing.american.civilization,alt.nuke.europe, + art.fan.art-bell + Subject: American Television is Dreadfully Stupid. How the Hell Can You Sit + Through Endless Insulting Commercials? + From: Edgar Carlsbad + Date: Thu, 29 May 1997 22:50:18 -0500 + + I am constantly shocked at how stupid and mindless American TV is. I have + just returned from spending three months working there and I am + flabbergasted at how you Americans can stand such low class rubbish. It is + a terrible reflection of your society: crass commercialisation and poor + quality programming. How the hell do you stand it at all? + + The sitcoms fall between retarded sexualisation or dealing with America's + racial problems by parading stereotypes. Most tragic of all, American TV + serves as a substitute for real friends or a proper family life. + + The sexualisation of children on American TV is shocking. Speaks volumes + about the miserable existance American children are raised in these days. + The latchkey generations abandoned by their selfish mothers who "did the + whole kid thing, but now want to find myself and my career" types who give + an endless parade of shrinks a lucrative lifestyle. + + The never-ending violence is deeply disturbing. Programmes with titles like + "Scary Cop Shoot-Outs" and other home videos of planes falling from the sky + passed-off as science shows just so the morbid individuals can justify + their sick fascination with violent death and suffering. + + Your so called news programmes are nothing more than propaganda designed to + keep the corporate state in power and your pockets as empty as your lives. + Lots of information about how crappy life is in the rest of the world + followed by how great things are here in the good 'ol US of A. Yipee! + + No wonder only 5% of Americans have passports; your government fears that + you may find out that the quality of life in the US is shit next to Europe, + Canada, Down Under, and so on. + + Sports programmes are just as retarded as the stupid meaningless sports + programming you "enjoy" over there. I cannot understand it at all. I must + have heard the word "EXTREME" about a million times to let me know how + exciting American sports are. They are childish and cater to people of low + IQ. American TV producers have a very low opinion of their viewers. + + Endless shows about UFOs and mostly 'End of The World' programmes which + speaks to the heart in a very roundabout way that America is finished as a + society. + + But even when I found something interesting, the enjoyment was ruined by the + non-stop commercials that you get before the show begins, then right after + the intro and then six (yes 6!) more times before a half hour show is done. + A half-hour show in America is really about 16 to 18 minutes long - the rest + is all ads! + + I don't know how you Americans can sit through such idiotic excrement, but + after meeting you first hand and seeing how most of you are quite + brainwashed, I see the real purpose of this TV media in your country. + + George Orwell's 1984 is about present day America as far as I am concerned. + You are all so controlled you may as well be a nation of veal calves. + + You have my prayers. + + Edgar + + + ******* + + + I couldn't agree more, Edgar. + + What's especially sad, though, is that nobody really cares. Edgar got + a tremendous amount of flames from people who read this. + + Our nation is content to let the powers that be do the thinking for + them. No, this is not the generic "fuck the government!" rant. This isn't + about the government at all, actually. It's about *you* - you people who + get some sort of twisted satisfaction watching Bob Saget show you home + videos of fat people every Sunday night. You people who'd rather watch + Jenny McCarthy shake her tits on a dating show full of halfwit fratboys and + meat-drunk gutterwhores than READ A FUCKING BOOK. + + Don't get me wrong. Television itself isn't bad. Infact, it's the + most efficient form of communication that we, as a species, have at our + disposal. This was most evident during the Gulf "War." If a member of my + family or a friend was involved in that, I'd most certainly be glued to the + idiot box to make sure everything was going well. I would *not* be + switching to yet another made-for-TV movie starring a pregnant Jaclyn Smith + in mid-divorce and a coma during the CNN news breaks. + + Some people say that television is used to control the masses. + Although this is an immature, paranoid, and very radical point of view, it + isn't so far from the truth. Television isn't used to *control* the masses, + but it sure is suggestive, isn't it? + + We have become braindead. I deal with people every day at work and I + witness it firsthand. I literally have to teach people, step by step, how + to activate a gas pump because they're so used to being spoonfed information + by television, parents, and our school system that they've lost the ability + to do anything by themselves. "Two legs good, four legs bad." The whole + bit. It's frightening. You may have went to med school for 12 years to + earn your doctorate in neurology but you can't even fucking pump gas into + your Lexus. + + Am I saying that television should take full blame? No. Am I saying + Edgar and his jolly good pals in England have no trouble activating a gas + pump? No. If you don't know what I'm saying by now, just stop reading and + go back to Baywatch. Do you have any idea how much you've missed by reading + my tight-assed banter? Pamela Anderson is half-naked and wet RIGHT NOW. + + So hit your escape key. It's the one on the far top-left of your + keyboard labelled "Esc." What you do is place your finger on top of it and + push it down. It will make this disappear. + + If you're reading this in DOS Edit, the only way to get out of this is + by pressing two keys at once. I will not bother teaching you how to do that + because it will give you a stroke. Just hit the power button. + + + - Styx + + styx@dto.net + dropdead@mindspring.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0355.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0355.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a50930d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0355.txt @@ -0,0 +1,964 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Loving Solitude + --------------- + + The gavel clapped against the podium a third time, and the +room fell silent. Glancing around to make sure everyone was paying +attention, the auctioneer motioned for the two assistants to bring +out the next piece. From the left of the small stage, two ladies +dressed in black carried out a covered painting. Lifting it up a +little more, they deposited it on an awaiting stand, and quickly +moved off back to the left. + With a final look to the audience, the auctioneer moved over +and quickly removed the velvet cloth that hid the painting. As the +cover dropped off, a few people shifted to get a better look as +it became fully revealed but immediately moved back to their previous +position, apparently in disappointment. With a reluctant sigh, the +auctioneer moved back to the podium and cleared his throat. + + "This piece of work was recently donated to our foundation + by an anonymous donor. Nothing is known about the artist, + and little is known about the history of this piece beyond + a few years. Since it's age and artist are unknown, bidding + will begin at two hundred dollars." + + It took a few seconds before an elderly lady raised her hand +to offer the small amount. No one really seemed interested in the +piece but everyone knew that if no one bidded on it, the charity would +not do as well as it had the previous year. After a few minutes, the +bidding reached three hundred and forty two dollars. A small smile +crept over the auctioneer's face when the bidding slowed down, because +he knew that the next piece would be much more exciting and fetch a lot +more money. + + "Three hundred forty. Do I hear three hundred and fifty? + Going once....Going twice..." + + As the gavel started it's downward swing, a tall gentlemen +who had been standing in the doorway stepped forward and spoke up. + + "One thousand dollars." + + Looks of astonishment and surprise hit every face in the room +as people craned their necks to see who had bid such a ridiculous +amount on this piece of art. Strange looks and questioning glances +spread around the room like wildfire as the man slowly approached the +front of the room. As he reached the podium he slowly turned to face +the room full of people and spoke up in a deep voice. + + "I can help put a more accurate price on this work and tell + you the story of the painting if you wish. Believe me, after + this story, you shall deem this piece priceless." + + Disbelief could be seen on each and every person's face as +he finished. Turning to the auctioneer he looked him dead in the eye +before turning back to the crowd seated before him. No one spoke up +to stop him so he continued. + + "I shall now relate the tale of Daryth and Aryn as I promised + the artist after he finished the piece. Many of you will + be skeptical of my story and if so, it is your loss. Know + that I tell this....as it truly happened." + + + =-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "Our story takes place in the foothills of the mountains + in Eastern Kriandia in the year 1056, Year of the Crescent. + At the mutual base of the two tallest peaks, a stretch of + forest ran through on both sides of a cleared trail. To both + sides of the trail, the forest gradually rose to cover each + of the peaks and continue beyond. It was several miles from + peak to peak and the valley was well over ten miles long. Just + over a fortnight to the south was the town of Camishal, the + largest trading center this side of the continent. The + outlying town of Britania was just under a fortnight to the + north, and the only other civilization in the area. Traffic + between the two cities was quite heavy, especially during + the later fall months, with everyone trying to get to one + place or the other so they could settle in for the harsh + winters that always came. + + This valley between the two peaks was well known as a natural + resting place amongst the beautiful trees and open forest. + During the more recent years, brigands and bandits had used + the place as an ambush sight for weary travelers who were + not armed. Rumor had it that for years, the valley was inhabited + by a guardian who protected innocent travelers and saw to the + safety of the road but years ago, the protection people had + relied upon disappeared. It was believed that the man died at + the hands of brigands, although some people still maintained + that he moved, to take residence in other parts of the land. + Regardless, the roads had not been completely safe for years." + + =-=-= + + Looking around, the man saw that everyone was becoming more +and more interested in the story as he told it. Some of the patrons +had leaned back to get more comfortable, and others had leaned forward +in their chairs to hear the story better. Either way, he was fulfilling +his promise made years ago. + + =-=-= + + "Eight miles to the north of the valley was a small community + of farmers and a few merchants that had settled in a quiet grove. + Although more and more people settled there until it had grown + into a small town, it was still considered peaceful compared + to most other cities. Protection for this town was provided + by the Duke of Carolina who had built a keep to the east. + Bandits and brigands kept their distance from this town because + of the keep and the small army that dwelled there in his keep. + + That year was the Duke's daughter's twenty first birthday, and + a huge celebration was in preparation. Since birth, attendants + and maids had taken care of the young woman, and had seen to + her every need. The maiden had never left the walls of the city + since she was born, due to her father's orders. Her father had + always been protective of her, but she had grown accustomed + to living inside the town. Even her trips into market or other + places in town were always cut short by her father's orders + and worrying about her well being. When she awoke the morning + of her birthday, she quickly ran through the castle to find her + father in hopes of catching him before he left for town. In the + dining hall she found him and begged to talk to him before he left. + When she told him that she wanted to leave the city for the + day in order to explore the fields and woods near the castle, + he immediately began laughing. He thought it the most foolish + request, but he slowly realized that she had turned twenty + one and had never left the town. + + The sun shone high above head and the noise of the marketplace + carried to the front gates of the castle as the massive doors + swung open to reveal the maiden. To each side of her was a burly + soldier armed with more weapons than a bird has feathers. It + was under her father's orders that if she decided to leave the + castle, she would be under heavy protection in case something + happened. Running full speed away from the gates and down toward + the market place, the two guards struggled to keep up. Seemingly + tireless, the young girl wandered the market for hours before + heading farther into town to explore even more. Late afternoon + approached and the girl hadn't stopped for one bit, not even to + eat or drink, and not a sign of fatigue crossed her face. Her + two guards had long ago given up looking rigid and stolid, for + the weight of the afternoon sun was almost as great as that from + the weapons covering their bodies. + + Needless to say, they were not surprised, or happy, when + she announced her intentions of taking a walk through the + woods to the south of town. Sprinting out of the town gates, + the two guards jogged and tried their best to keep up with + the young girl, and prayed to their gods that she would + grow tired very soon. A cool breeze blew through the forest, + cooling off everyone and everything after the long hot day, + and the guards felt as if their prayers had been answered. + As the sun slowly approached the western peak both men + realized they were a good ways from the castle, and that + it was getting late. And even worse, should something happen + to the daughter of their liege, they would be thrown into + prison if they survived their punishment. + + Catching up to the energetic girl, both guards quickly spoke + up and told her that they should be returning to the keep + before it got too dark out. Mock cries of protest rang through + the valley as she complained about how much fun she was having + and how much she enjoyed being out here. A small but friendly + argument ensued and it was finally agreed that they would go + back after she took a brief swim in a stream they had passed a + few minutes ago. Heading back to the stream she lead the two + men on smiling the whole way. Once there she ordered them to + head on back a little ways, that she wanted to have some + privacy. Slowly removing a strap from her gown, she stopped + until they had turned around and left the immediate area. + + Sprinting through the woods with no shoes on, her happiness + was apparent as her smile shone through the woods, almost lighting + the way for her. The sun had almost completely left the woods + engulfing it in darkness. What had minutes ago been beautiful + trees had now turned into vile monsters intent upon catching her + as she ran on. Direction meant nothing to her as she fled the + guards behind her and the shadows pressing down and her only + thoughts were of getting back to the keep in one piece. The + brilliant smile that had adorned her face fled as fast as she + did, and a pure look of terror took shape on her lovely features. + + She didn't know how much time had passed, but she knew that she must + have been running for a good fifteen minutes in the same direction. + Despite the running the woods still looked unfamiliar to her. + Stopping to catch her breath and get her bearing it took her + a minute to realize that it was now almost completely dark out. + The only trace of sun was a deep lavender in the skies above + providing just enough light to give the trees a sinister + appearance and frighten her. Adding to that fear she began to + recall the stories from merchants and travelers that had passed + through the woods inbetween the peaks. The only other recollection + was that the protector of the woods had left years ago, leaving + merchants on their own, fair prey for any highwaymen that may + be in the area. Trying to push those thoughts from her head, + she quickly thought of pleasant stories she had heard growing + up in the keep while forcing herself to smile despite the + fear that had taken ahold of her. + + Hours passed of walking in what appeared one direction before + she sat down to rest. Blisters had formed on her feet over an + hour ago and the pain from them slowly traveled up her legs + and began to fatigue her. Sitting with her back to a tree she + began to look around at the trees again once again trying + to get her bearing. A single tree caught her attention and + thinking back a little, she recalled passing the tree almost + two hours ago. A small tear rolled out of her eye and continued + down her cheek. With an audible sigh, she pulled her legs + closer to her chest and lowered her chin to her knees in + resignation. Sleep took her almost instantly. + + Time had no meaning while she slept, but no matter how much + time had actually passed, an eternity had passed in her dreams. + Sometime later a loud snap sounded somewhere nearby. It took + her a minute to realize that she was awake, and that the sound + had not been in her mind like all of the others. Hesitating, + she opened one eye and looked up. Although it was still night, + the forest had taken on an odd glow from some light source + that reflected off of a fog bank that had appeared while she + slept. Opening the other eye while looking up brought her + a startling surprise. She was not alone. Around her, five + figures had taken position to cut off her escape. Each + figure was wrapped in the fog standing about twenty feet from + her and after a little closer scrutiny, each was carrying a + sword. Terror gripped her and her heart began beating like + a rabbit on the chase. + + Without a word, all five figures moved toward her brandishing + their weapons. Using the tree as support, the maiden pushed herself + up with her legs and reached back to grab the tree for support. + Her breathing became more labored and her eyes darted back and + forth between each of the brigands approaching her. Together, + they formed a small ring around her, each pointing their blade + toward her. A tall gruff man stepped forward and dropped the tip + of his sword toward the ground a little. She thought about + screaming but her body would not obey. All she could get out + was a muttered gasp. + + "Well well. Look at what we got here boys! Seems the little + missy got lost and wandered in our woods. 'Guess tonight + won't be so cold after all." + + The gruff man reached out toward her breasts but seconds before + touching her a faint whistle could be heard followed by a dull + thump. Looking down she saw an arrow sticking through the man's + hand, apparently appearing out of no where. Screaming and holding + his arm, he spun around looking for the person who had shot him. + Almost as one, the four figures turned their back on the girl, + totally forgetting about her, instead more concerned with their + safety. She could see over the shoulder of one of her attackers + and glimpsed a silhouette in the distance. The black figure + was surrounded by the almost glowing fog that shrouded the rest + of the forest. Dropping a bow, the silhouette advanced toward + the brigands and drew two swords from sheaths at his sides. + + As the brigands advanced to meet their attacker, the girl slid + around the tree with intent to run away lest she be captured + after they killed her temporary savior. She took one step toward + her freedom and ran straight into the chest of another brigand. + Grabbing her arm he led her back around the tree and held her + tight as he watched the fight. The brigand let out a snarling + laugh and looked at his catch. + + "Looks like yer savior ain't gonna live long. Four against + one means we is gonna win. Then we gonna take you back to our + camp and have some fun." + + Tears ran like a river down her face and fell to the forest + floor as she realized the truth of the words. Glancing up + she watched as the battle unfolded. A little over twenty feet + away, the four brigands had surrounded the dark figure and + began taunting him and telling him of the painful death he + was about to receive. Looking closer at the group of men + she now noticed that each of her attackers held longswords + and each wore armor of some kind. None of the bandits seemed + to be new to the swords and fighting, and it even seemed that + this group was used to fighting together from the way they + split up and surrounded the single foe. + + Dressed in black, she could tell very little about her would-be + savior except that he was tall and well built. He wore a long black + cloak with blood red trim that seemed to have a mind of its own. + As he moved, the cloak always seemed to stay out of the way of + his moving swords, and never opened enough to reveal what + was underneath. Despite being attacked from all sides, the lone + figure fended off each attack moving in slow circles being + careful that he never left his back to a single attacker. + It was only a minute later that the brigands altered their attack + routine, and began to attack faster and with more precision. + With that many swords and that kind of skill, the girl knew that + she was as good as dead. + + Dancing back and forth, the swordplay kept on for several minutes, + with no signs that anything new would happen. The figure in black + almost seemed at ease as his twin blades moved around blocking + each attack, and seemingly appearing somewhere else to block + another a half second later. Growling in frustration, the leader + of the group stepped forward intent upon killing this person in + hopes of a quick battle. No sooner than he had taken a step, + a loud clang resounded from his blade. The maiden gasped as she + saw the brigands blade shoot upward and the tip of another sword + appear on his back. Falling to his knees, the brigand dropped + his longsword and held the wound with both hands as he fell + backward, out of the fight. + + Seeing their leader drop visibly shook the others attacking + this figure. Hesitation by one of the brigands cost him his + life as two long gashes appeared on his chest forming an 'X', + spilling his life in his own hands. With a snap kick to the + face, he fell backwards out of the way of the remaining three + fighting. A spark of hope flickered in the girls mind as she + realized it might be possible for her savior to win the fight. + + As soon as the thought entered her mind, it was quickly forced + out as the man holding her wrist pulled her backwards toward + the tree. Turning her around, he pushed her face first against + the tree and planted his knee on her back as he drew some rope + from a pouch on his belt. He quickly tied her hands behind her + back and then proceeded to tie her feet. Yanking her back around + to face her, he growled once and slapped her across the face + causing her to fall to ground. Sneering at the girl, the man + then moved to join his two remaining companions. + + The man in black kept in motion, blocking each attack that came + toward him. With only two remaining it was harder to counter + the attack since he had to turn 180 degrees each time an attack + came in. Looking up from the ground, the girl saw that the + brigands had began a pattern attacking her savior that would + lead to him wearing down and growing tired, while they kept + a safe distance and kept some of their energy. Realizing + this, and seeing another foe approaching, the dark figure leaped + toward the man approaching him and stabbed outward with both + blades producing two lines of red on the bandits neck before + he could block either blade. Without hesitation the figure jumped + over the body of the fallen man and turned to face the other two + brigands who had moved to resume their attack. This time, she + noticed that she was right behind him, and the tree right behind + her. His move had cost him though, as she looked up she could see + a deep cut in the man's left arm, and another on his right side. + + Rolling backwards a little, more in fear of getting stepped on, + she hoped to get a better look at the fight and possible get + a glimpse of the man who had saved her. With the loss of position, + the two remaining attackers lost confidence, and in doing so, + quickly lost their advantage. It was a minute later before + another man dropped, blood pouring out of where his eyes used + to be. Cloak swirling, the figure turned to face the remaining + foe and quickly end the fight. Deciding to take his chances on + his own in the woods he turned to flee but instead, ended up + flat on his face as he got tripped from behind. Breathing + deeply he turned over and tried to scoot backwards to escape the + man that had just killed the only four friends he had had. + + With no expression, and no show of emotion the man in black + walked over and touched the tip of one of his swords to the man's + chest. Holding it there, he mouthed something and stabbed downward + ending the life of the enemy. Backing up as if in fear of the + dead man before him, the savior stopped and looked down at + himself. Both swords clattered in front of him as he dropped them + and moved both hands to cover his two wounds. An involuntary + grunt escaped him and he fell to his knees, visibly hurting. + The man in black tried to stay on his knees but could not, + and pitched forward into the leaves in front of him. + + A faint gasp escaped the lips of the maiden as she watched the + figure fall face first, and she realized that he may be dead, + because of her foolish actions. She quickly untied the rope + bounding her legs and pushed herself toward the fallen man, + her only interest in getting to him to help if she could. It + seemed like forever before she was even near him and as she + drew near she could tell his he was breathing, but it was labored + and he was not moving. Cursing herself, the ropes bounding her, + and the brigands, she kept moving toward her fallen savior, + desperate to help in any way. Finally drawing near she reached + out with both hands to feel for a pulse but as her hand drew + near another voice sounded out from the woods nearby. + + "Do not touch him." + + From behind a tree stepped another figure dressed in similar + robes and clothing. On his side were two swords as well. Moving + toward her, the new man walked past her and kneeled down to + examine the wounded guardian. He checked for a pulse, and then + moved on to examine the wounds with his fingers. Wiping the blood + on his cloak he rolled the wounded man over and spread his + cloak out revealing more of the man beneath. The maiden sat nearby + watching the whole thing with a mixture of confusion and + concern. Drawing a sword, the new figure stepped back and sliced + downward with a quick stroke severing the ropes that bound her. + + "Leave us. Head north until you reach a small grove and then + turn eastward. Keep moving until you cross a road. From there + keep going north and you will be home. Never speak of what + you saw here. It is of no concern to you." + + Frightened, the maiden stood up and backed away slowly in + front of the armed man guarding his fallen comrade. Visibly + shaking, she turned and fled north as instructed, not even + looking back to see what was happening. Something in the + man's eyes warned her that if she had protested, she may + have ended up like the men who attacked her. As she fled + to the north, despite her fear of what took place, something + stopped her from running on. Slowing down she placed her + hand over her heart and stopped everything. Something felt + terribly wrong, she had to turn back. It was beating in her + heart, and the compelling thought of returning to help + the person who had helped her overwhelmed her. + + Slowly she crept back up and stopped behind a tree a good + distance from the two figures. She crouched down and made + herself as comfortable as possible trying to remain quiet, + hoping to find out more about the two men. All thoughts of + getting home had long since fled her mind and only the thought + of learning more occupied her. + + The scene in front of her startled her more than anything else. + She was used to such a simple life at the keep, with no worry, + and to this day she had never seen a person die, and never + even imagined someone dying in such a horrible way. The new + figure was moving the bodies of the brigands and arranging them + in a row a little to the side of where his fallen comrade lie. + Moonlight filtered through the trees above and swept over + the small clearing where everyone was, and using the little + light from above, she could tell that her savior was still not + moving. Perhaps he was dead already, and that thought made her + sick to her stomach. Looking back up she watched the man finish + moving the corpses away. + + The job completed, the new figure once again went to his + fallen comrade and checked on him again. The pulse was weak + but he had been bandaged and the bleeding had stopped. It still + didn't look good. Kneeling down the man pulled back his cloak, + removed his sword belt, and placed his palm flat on the chest + of the wounded swordsman. Closing his eyes he began to chant + and slowly lifted his head toward the sky. A pale blue light + engulfed his hand and spread outward over the chest and on to + the arms, and eventually to the wounds. As the light from the + healing spell faded the other man slumped down onto his knees, + apparently weaker from the spell. Something made him jerk his head + up though, and he reached down for his own blades. + + The maiden cursed herself for making so much noise. When the + spell began, she couldn't believe what she saw and had gasped, + not sure if this were dream or reality. She huddled down, hugging + herself behind the tree praying to all the gods that he had not + heard, but she knew he did. Footsteps sounded from the clearing + and she could tell he was moving toward her. Panic took her and + she debated on running away from the man but she knew she was + in no condition to run and no doubt, the man would catch her. + + Recalling stories she had read, and tales she had heard, she + figured she should at least face any threat as brave as the + knights of old, and act like a mature women, which she was. + She stood up and slowly caught her breath, and with a final + shudder, stepped away from the tree. No sooner had she taken + one step as two blades sliced through the air, falling + a hair's width from her chest. The realization that she could + and should have been dead hit her and she was a loss for words, + however she didn't need to say a thing, because the warrior + in front of her did. + + "What did you see?" + + The tone of his voice suggested that if she lied, he would + know about it, and would kill her. Taking a deep breath + and summoning all the courage she could, she whispered: + + "Almost everything." + + His eyes closed a little and anger flashed over his face. He + held on blade to her neck and drew back the other as if to strike + her down, and as he did, she closed her eyes, mouthing a prayer + to her god. + + Instead of the killing blow she heard a loud ring in front of + her face. Opening one eye she saw the blade poised inches from + her face. She noticed her savior standing beside her, his own + sword stretched out, blocking the killing blow. She realized + that he had saved her life again. Relief flooded over her and + she took a tentative step back. For the first time she heard + him speak. He was leaning against the tree with one hand on + the deep cut in his side, the other shaking, but wielding + his weapon. + + "No Lyell. I can not let you kill her." + + His voice was so soft spoken, and so clear, she could hardly + believe this had come from the same man who had minutes ago + killed five men, and then almost fell to his own death. + + "You know of our vow. It is our way and you are breaking it. + Hell, you already broke that vow again by saving her in the + first place. You must be crazy." + + "I know. I understand what I have done and that is my decision. + You have been my friend for just over two hundred years, all + I ask is that you support my decision." + + A look of pure confusion hit her at the talk she had just heard. + Two hundred years kept flashing through her mind, and she + wondered what he meant by that. Not caring about interrupting + their conversation she broke in. + + "What do you mean two hundred years? Who are you? Who is he? + What vow are you talking about? What did he mean by killing + me?" + + The one called Lyell that had been ready to kill her growled + at her silencing her instantly. Lyell spoke up: + + "She knows too much and can't be allowed to live. If she told + anyone, you know what the consequences would be. It just + can't happen. No matter what you think of her. These foolish + emotions of yours will get you killed, almost like they did + tonight." + + The last comment hit him worse than any blade could have, + but he stood there as if unaffected. Lowering his sword, + he sheathed it and removed the hood covering most of his + face. His gentle features matched his voice perfectly, + and she questioned how such a person could take lives with + the deadly efficiency that he had shown. That was only one + of a thousand questions that flew through her mind each second + that passed during their conversation. + + "I understand Lyell. All I can say is thank you, and you know + that I will repay you one day. Lets sit down, rest and have + something to eat and talk about this. Things will work out." + + "By the gods you know I owe you my life a hundred times over, + but you know how I am.....fine....lets rest and get refreshment." + + From there they walked north toward the stream she had been + at earlier the previous day. The maiden followed nervously + not knowing what to do, or what to say, if anything. Following + them at a small distance, the past few minutes replayed in her + mind and she questioned whether she was dreaming or not. Looking + up she noticed that the one called Lyell was staring at her. + + "You aren't dreaming." + + That was all he said before he turned his head and continued + leading them on toward the stream. Once they arrived they + followed the winding water toward the west a ways, until + they reached a small clearing nestling against the slow moving + current. Tall grass and shrubs concealed this place well, and + once closer, the princess could tell that it had been used + quite frequently. The two warriors moved to separate sides + of a small ring of stones, and each removed their sword + belts and placed them within easy reach. Lyell began digging + through a few belt pouches while her savior walked to the + stream bank and knelt down. + + A few feet from the water, on his knees, he straightened up + and clasped his hands in front of him. The maiden slowly + stepped to the side and down toward the water to see what he + was doing. From the side she could see his hands were not + clasped, but rather one fist was pushed into the curved palm + of the other. His eyes were closed and the gentle wind blew + back his long brown hair. Moonlight cascaded off the water + and presented the stream bank with a beautiful pale radiance. + + Not wishing to disturb the man, she moved back toward the ring + of stones hesitantly. It was obvious that the man called Lyell + did not care for her, and wished her dead, but she got the + feeling that now they were back here, nothing would happen + until they had talked about everything. + + Reaching the ring of stones she kneeled down and spread + her cold hands over the fire that he had built. After warming + her hands a little, she took some cheese and bread offered + by the warrior. Lyell then sat down and crossed his legs + and looked at her. Taking the hint, she sat back and made + herself as comfortable as she could on the rocky beach. + + "Since we are here, and we have time, I will tell you more + about us, so that your curiosity will not consume you. Know + that what you hear now has never been told to another mortal + and never will be again if it can be helped." + + Lyell finished off his piece of bread and washed it down with + a small sip of some liquid he produced from a wineskin. Leaning + back on his elbows he began: + + "You know of the legend of the guardian of this forest and + the protector of the valley no doubt. Most people know about + it, but don't know the whole story. Hmmph. Most people hardly + know the tiniest bit of it. If you think back to the few + stories told about the guardian you may realize that he + has been around for as long as you remember. Yes, he. It is + not a monster like some believe. That guardian is the man + who saved your life. Daryth is the name he goes by now and + he has been protecting this valley for just over two hundred + and thirty two years. I am Lyell as you now know. + + I know you have a hard time believing that, as you should, + but I speak the truth. When you look at him you see a human + about twenty five years old. Don't let that deceive you. + The cloaks we wear are magical, and change our appearance to + whatever we need. If we wish to be shadows in the night, then + that is what you would see. Nothing more. Anyway, he is + the first guardian to keep the form he has always known. That + is what he looked like when he lived a normal, mortal, life. + That is truly him. + + Yes. We are both immortal by your standards. He is three + hundred and eighty two years old right now. When he was mortal, + he committed crimes that led to this punishment. When + the town he lived in was overrun with clerics of evil, he + did not convert to the new false religion like everyone else. + He kept his faith and fought against the evil clerics despite + what his goddess told him to do. He was to leave the town, and + seek a new home, and to forget what had happened, but he couldn't + live with himself knowing innocent people were being subjected + to false and evil gods. Staying, he fought them every way + he knew how. His goddess left him and when he was finally + captured, he was sacrificed to the new gods of the town. + + As the knife plummeted through his heart, he only remembers + a bright flash of light, a second or two of what he calls + a trial, and next thing he knew, he had been changed. He woke + up in this spot with clothes, two swords, and the cloak next + to him. The only thing he remembers is that he was to serve + as protector of this valley for two hundred years. After + that, he could lead his own life and do whatever he pleased, + as long as he didn't come into contact with other people. + + I understand that is a little confusing, let me try to explain + better. Two hundred years of protecting the travelers and + innocent people was a punishment by the gods, but he didn't see + it that way. He loved every day of it, and took his job more + seriously than any other guardian in history. The true punishment + lie in not being able to see anyone afterwards, including other + guardians. Once the last day of the two hundred years guarding + the valley passed, he was free as long as he didn't make contact + with anyone, and if he did, he sentenced himself to another + one hundred years of guarding the valley, and solitude. + + You see us together tonight, but that is rare. We may only + see each other if one of us is hurt, and needs help. By morning + I must be gone or we both suffer the consequences. So for the + past seven years, he had been fulfilling his vow and staying + away from people. He had done that perfectly until this + afternoon when he saw you. As soon as you entered the forest + he had taken up the responsibility of guarding you. He won't + tell me why he did it, but I can see it in his eyes. Your + beauty has taken ahold of his heart and seemingly won't let + go. I do know that he has risked many a trip into town, disguised + as a peasant so that he may see you and make sure you are safe. + It seems that his love for you is deeper than you could imagine. + Take that to heart though, for he has never loved before. Not + as a mortal, or as an immortal. I am his only friend right now + and that is why we look after each other. + + Part of our vow, like all guardians is this: No one can learn + of us, what we do, and who we are. If it happens they must die + or never tell another soul. Since you live a plush life back + in town, and speak with too many people, I say you must die. + That is how things must be in my eyes. He sees it differently + though, and brought you back to this place to talk." + + She sat back in stunned silence, absorbing everything. Several + minutes passed before she could even look up and look into the + eyes of Lyell. She almost wished this could be all some cruel + joke, or that she would wake up from a bad dream safe in her + room, but that didn't happen. Looking over to Daryth, she + couldn't believe that he had followed her through town on so many + days, and couldn't believe that her beauty had captured him + like this other man said, it just wasn't possible! + + "I don't know why, but I believe you. It's just so hard to + accept all that. To think that he did all that for me, and + risked his own life for me is so crazy. I don't exactly + have a lot of people that care for me, and especially not + like that." + + She took more time to let all of it sink in, and Lyell cleaned + up the area and added wood to the fire in front of them. It + had been almost an hour since they had reached the clearing, + and the night was about to fade into the morning hours. Daryth + still sat at the stream bank, apparently praying or meditating, + and he hadn't moved. + + "What is he doing? He's been there for an hour." + + "That is how we can sense danger. I guard a stretch of woods + on the other side of the peak and have taken the night off + to make sure he is not wounded too bad. Each of us has our + own way, but we sit and meditate and pray to our deities + in a special place to us. While we do it, we know of any + possible danger within twenty or so miles of us and that is + how we can react and make sure nothing bad happens. He + will be done in a minute though, and I will begin the + sequence while he rests for a little, else he would not get + any sleep and that would not be good considering the night + he has had." + + The warrior and the maiden sat there for a few more minutes + before Daryth dropped his hands and stood up. After standing, + he immediately stretched his arms and legs and turned to face + the others. Walking up to the fire he belted on his swords + and sat down on his knees before getting a small snack of his + own. After he ate, he nodded once to Lyell and then turned + to face the maiden. + + "I hope Lyell explained everything to you. I understand if + it is hard to accept, and if you have any questions, + please ask." + + "I do have one. What is to become of me? By what he said, I know + too much and he wants me dead." + + "That will not happen. Trust me. It is hard to explain but + let me try. Since I first saw you from a distance something + about you reached out and took ahold of me. That first day + in town I followed you from a distance, doing my best to get + a good look at you, and wishing moreso that I could talk to + you. But I couldn't, so I kept watch that night over your room. + I sat on top of a building and made sure you slept as sound + as possible. I prayed to Mielikki that you be well rested + and protected from any danger. That night, I realized that + you were the first person to do that to me. Never had I cared + so much about a single person as that day I saw you. It was + that day that I broke my one hundred year long vow of never + loving another person. + + For days after that I followed you in town, watched you while + you slept, made sure no one bad got near you. I risked everything + to be near you when you slept. One night I went as far as to + go into your room, and sit in a corner to watch you. + + I have prayed long and wished that you could someday meet me, + and I wished even more that maybe, by some miracle you could + talk to me. You are different Aryn. I can sense it in you from + miles away, and now that you sit near me, it beats in my heart + so loud. I know that you are different, much more than the + people that surround you. Something in my heart tells me that + one day you will become much more than you are now." + + He sat looking into the fire, not sure what to say next. + Confusion had taken his heart and for the first time in + his life, he was unsure what to do. The chaos played itself + out in his mind, and finally released him so he could + continue. + + "I know that you will want to go back to your life at court, + and I will let you go. All I can do is hope and pray that you + will keep what you know to yourself. I don't know if Lyell + told you, but if you tell another person, we both suffer for + breaking our vow. I have faith in you, and my life is in your + hands whether you know it or not. Know that when you leave + this morning you carry the lives of two guardians, protectors + of the woods and nature. + + Also know, that I have complete faith in you. I trust you. + And...I love you." + + Daryth dropped his head and looked back into the fire, not + wanting to watch her face as she laughed inwardly at him. He + knew that she would not believe him, and he had already + accepted it. Not wanting to hear the answer that was to + come, he stood up and turned to leave. He could not bear + to hear the word 'no' ring the small grove so he left. + + Half rising, Aryn extended her hand to stop him, but he had + already moved to the edge of the clearing. By the time she + stood up, he was gone, and only the gentle breeze was left + to follow. + + =-=-= + + Sunlight filtered through the balcony door, and displayed + itself over the bed in the center of the room. The sound + of people carried up and acted as a morning alarm to the + sleeping figure. Aryn awoke with a start and sat up in the + bed, unaware of where she was. Putting her hands to her head + she tried to remember what had happened, and what had been + a dream. + + Unsure of what was real, and what lay in the land of dreams, + she stretched before standing up. Without a noise, she moved + to her nightstand to gaze into the mirror and brush her + beautiful hair. Setting the brush down she noticed a single + pendant in the middle that she had never seen before. On + the end of a long silver chain, two crossed blades were + fastened, a symbolic reminder of her night before. + + =-=-= + + The hooded figure kept walking. He had been walking since + the night before when he left his only friend, and the + only person he had ever loved. He scolded himself for walking + away, not sure of her response, but something in the back + of his mind, and something deep in his heart told him that + she would not understand, and would not accept him. It was + almost an hour before noon, and he knew what was to come. + He could not prepare for it so he didn't try, he simply walked + his pattern until the time came. + + Minutes before the sun shone directly overhead, he walked + into his clearing by the river. He kneeled down in front + of the stream, and eased back a little, ready for what was + to happen. The last thing he remembered was a figure approaching + from the other side of the river. + + Centuries passed, or so it seemed, before Daryth awoke, + and as he opened his eyes he regretted it instantly. The + sun above him bore down onto him and blinded him quickly. + He quickly raised a hand to shield his eyes and adjust to + the light from above. As he did, he could feel the presence + of someone nearby. He lay back down and closed his eyes before + he spoke. + + "Hello Lyell. Sorry to bring you back like this, but it is + always good to see you." + + "And you my friend. Do you remember any of it?" + + "A little here and there. The trial commenced, and my + record reviewed. The judge sentenced me to another hundred + years. But there was something else. I can't quite place + it. Oh well. And you?" + + "Nothing. Yes, I was surprised too. I take it they realized + I had no choice this time, and that in my case it could + not be helped. I am sorry for you my friend, and I am not." + + "I know. I enjoy the solitude, and love my punishment. + Anyway, I am all right. Thank you again for showing, but + it is time we went our separate ways once again. Hopefully + it won't be a full one hundred years, but I shouldn't think + otherwise." + + "I am afraid so." + + "I remember. My faith is once again well placed. Our goddess + has returned, and she will look out for us. Mielikki is + back." + + Daryth sat up fully and stood before his friend. + + "Mielikki granted me this one day to do as I please.. + I may do as I wish." + + The smile on his face showed his happiness, and Lyell could + tell that his friend was in bliss. Lyell stood up and buckled + his sword belt and prepared to journey back to his own + territory. As he passed, Daryth reached out and clasped + Lyell's hand. + + "Wait. I need one last favor old friend." + + "Anything..." + + =-=-= + + Spiraling down the stairs, Aryn felt better than she had + ever felt before. She could recall most of last night + and remembered enough to make her realize how lucky she had + been. The bizarre events still flooded her mind, and she + thought fondly of her savior, and what he had sacrificed + to help her. + + As she entered the dining hall, her father was more than + shocked to see her walk through. Jumping up, he rushed to + her and buried her in a hug so big as to almost smother her. + She hugged back, and they stood there for a minute letting + him absorb that she was safe and unharmed. + + "What happened? Are you alright? What..." + + She cut him off and sat him down in a chair close by. + + "Father! I am alright. I will tell you what happened. During + my walk I strayed off a trail and got lost in the woods. + I wondered around for hours before it got dark, and finally + gave up and rested in a small grove. I remember falling + asleep and the next thing I woke up here in the castle. + That is all I remember." + + They talked more for part of the morning and she assured him + that everything was fine and decided to go to the market + place to buy some new clothes. A better part of the afternoon + had passed before she returned home. + + With a loud bang the oak door to her room hit the wall + and she entered. Setting down her new clothes she removed + a few other necklaces, careful to leave her new one on + and went to the balcony door. Throwing it open she startled + herself as she walked out and almost hit something. + + As her eyes adjusted to the setting sunlight, she focused + on a painting set up on a hand carved stand. Below the + picture was a carved plaque that said "Daryth and Aryn" + and below that "Sothi Nuinqua Tsalarioth". Slowly her + mouth dropped down, as the beauty and clarity took ahold + of her. She stood there an hour looking at it, studying + every detail before the sun set and she had to move it + inside. It was the most valuable thing she had ever been + given and she wished she could see Daryth again to tell + him one thing. + + 'Yes'. + + =-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "And that is the story of Daryth and Aryn. Take it for what + you will and know that this piece means a lot more to two + people of the past." + + The gentleman stepped back and leaned against the stage +where the auctioneer was and let his story sink in. So caught up +in the story many people finally blinked and leaned back, unaware +they were sitting on the edge of their seats. A short heavyset man +stood up and walked out of the room, obviously disbelieving the +story. He was the only one to leave the room though. + + "What became of Daryth and Aryn?" + + The auctioneer had voiced what was going thought everyone's +mind and a near silent murmur rippled across the room. + + "That, is a different story." + + The man pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to +the auctioneer and walked toward the back of the room. A stunned look +was all that registered on his face as he took the item and watched +the storyteller leave. Once the door had closed he looked down at +the card and turned it over. It said: + + Lyell Razdyn + Ranger of Mielikki + +=-= + +This story inspired by the painting titled "The Diamond Warrior" by +Michael Parks. The story further inspired by a good friend. + + - d1s + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0356.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0356.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d328cca1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0356.txt @@ -0,0 +1,104 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The World Has Turned + -------------------- + + And left me here, just where I was before you appeared. +The words of a not-so-heard of and not-so-popular Weezer song +ring through my head. It's late now, by societies standards. Late +night NBC programs are bieng broadcast over my television, giving +off nearly the only light in my darkened room. + + Things are changing so fast. Physically, mentally, +emotionally, socially, and spiritually. There is a fine line +between what remains constant and what is always changing. I +am trying to iron out this line in my life, the process is not +at all easy. + + Physically, I find that I am spending more and +more time poised in front of my laptop. I find myself on +this box at odd hours of the night, rambling off my thoughts +once again for the masses. Excercise is at a minimal. It seems +as if I fear the light of day. Friends I used to spend a great +deal of time with have been reprioritized to fit my nocturnal +computer-user schedule. Even at night they are shunned. They +rant because they cannot contact me, maybe I'm trying to tell +them something. Nonetheless, physically I am changing. I am +becoming the master of my own activities. Whether this is for +the good of all remains to be seen. + + Mentally, I am making giant gains. I have increased +my stature in the hacking community tremendously. Also, I +am actively partaking in a course on Signalling System 7 and +am foraging ahead into the wonderful world of the telephone +network. I find myself reading at least a book a week, and +enjoying doing so. For once, I feel as if I am a mental giant +in my own world. No one will be able to force me to think of +myself as inferior, a world of knowledge exsists. And, I have +acquired the key to it. I will not let it slip away. + + Emotionally, much is changing. The one that I +felt I should pity-date no longer has feelings for me. +I'm not sure if this makes me uneasy, or if these makes +me liberated. It's a tough decision to make. One that I +have sought after for quite awhile is right there for the +snatching, perhaps. It'll take a tremendous leap of courage +to approach her, but I believe the advance can be made. The +other her doesn't know about the one I desire, and possibly +still thinks I value hers as one of the highest relationships +in my life. Indeed, she is quite a valued friend, but does +not hold the power she once held over my heart. The spell of +the old wizard that so enthralled me has once again come to +be. I need to get a plan worked out, and I need to make a +decision before someone, including myself, gets hurt. + + Socially, things are staying pretty much the same. +Though, my increasing ability to stay in front of my computer +for long periods of time has cut-down on the amount of hours +I spend attached to the phone partaking in conversations with +my friends. Somehow, I don't miss them. I see myself fading +back into the world of machines, and it scares me. The thing +I need to work on is changing my view of the world, and the +people that inhabit it. It will take a strong center, but I +feel I can accomplish any goal I set my mind to. Achieving +social perfection is just activity to be checked off. + + Spiritually, things are back on track. I nearly +was re-attracted into the Occult, but I believe I choose +wisely and rejected its dogma. Though some choose not to +believe in my gods, I am once again affirming my faith +as a Catholic. But, just because I'm a religious person +doesn't mean that I don't take responsiblity for my life +and how it goes, my life is of my making. It's just nice +to know that the big guy upstairs is looking over my +shoulder and giving me a pat on the back when I feel alone. + + + So, here I am again. Dark ringlets forming +under my eyes. Coke cans discarded on the floor. Disks +littering my desks. About to flip a coin, as some other +writers do, to check to see if this will ever be released. +Heads it is, mailto jericho@dimensional.com... + +-DropComm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0357.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0357.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d9eb20a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0357.txt @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "i am laundromat" + + bring me your troubled, + your tired, your old + bring me your spin cycle, + wash hot, rinse cold + bring me your linens, + your stockings, your hat + bring me your quarters, + i am laundromat + + bring me your street punks + with dull butter knives + bring me your rednecks + with overweight wives + bring me their stepsons, + those shirtless young brats + bring the whole family! + i am laundromat + + bring me your winstons, + your salems, your kools, + bring me your marlboros + and camels, you fools + bring me your cockroaches, + bring me your rats, + lung cancer, bubonic + i am laundromat + + bring me hispanics + and vietnamese + those who speak english + can expect to be seized + so come, alabama! + mississippi, where you at? + you've all been invited + by me, laundromat + + so bring me your maytags, + loadstars, and speedqueens! + bring me those clothes + you won't ever get clean + bring me your drapery, + your decayed welcome mat + to melt in the dryers + of an old laundromat + + bring me your t-shirts, + g'n'r, judas priest - + '86! they still fit you, + but now you're obese + yes, bring me your skinny + and all of your fat + but don't dare bring normality + to this laundromat + + bring me your starving + and give 'em a buck + so they can buy doritos! + and pepsi, with luck + and bring all the gossip! + be it this in-law or that + just make sure it's juicy + for this laundromat + + so bring me the tired, + the outcast, the meek, + and bring me the hanes + that they wore for two weeks + the senile, the filthy, + did i mention the fat? + bring all them to me + i am laundromat. + + +-murmur + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0358.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0358.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b9d0d320 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0358.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Would You Like Fries With That? + ------------------------------- + +With nothing in particular in mind, there was a movie on the other day +about homeless people. I didn't watch the movie, but it promped me to +think about the dynamics of a homeless person and the social stigmatizm +associated. + +My grandmother and I actually fought about this once. Being the devout +Catholic she is (bless her heart), she profusely believes that homeless +people choose to be homeless. I could not disagree more. + +Why would anyone choose to live on the streets, have their social +identities stripped from them, rummage through garbage and beg for money? +Who in their right mind would actually consciously decide to be homeless? +I just don't get it. + +When you see a bum on the sidewalk asking for money, how many of us abandon +convenience and cross the street just to avoid confrontation? Or how many +of us driving our little cars look the opposite direction when the man with +the "will work for food" sign is sitting on the corner of the stoplight? + +Many people think that "why don't they just go get a job at McDonald's or +something." Well, my friends, think about this. What would you do if you +walked into a McDonald's and the burger/fry maker has a dirty face and +fingernails and hasn't brushed their teeth in weeks because they don't have +a toothbrush. Suddenly your Big Mac attack has dissipated entirely and +pizza is now sounding about the best thing in the world. + +And since I doubt that McDonald's gives a cash allowence for clean clothes, +shelter, and a shower, how would a homeless person be given a ligitimate +chance at the wonderful world of fast food to begin with? They don't want +people working for them that smell worse than the dumpster at closing time. + +I do agree that alcolholism is statistically a big factor in the lifestyle +of a homeless person. Alcolol is simply a tool used to escape reality. It +definately doesn't help the cause, but I'll tell you this. I'd become the +world's biggest drunk if I was homeless just to forget even for a short +while the bugs crawling in my hair and the social avoidance of just about +everyone on the earth. Just hand me that bottle of Jack Daniels and Wild +Turkey so I could break from reality and restore momentarily what pea-sized +ounce of dignity that has been deemed invisible by the outside world. + +Whether we admit it or not, other peoples reactions to us have a big impact +on the way we look at ourselves. If the whole world points its condemming +finger at you and tells you you are worthless, you'd begin to believe +pretty quickly that it must be true. To loose all faith and hope would +have a devistating effect on a person' s self perception to where they +would actually seek behviors that would accentuate that perception. + +I just can't see any rational reason that someone would choose to live on a +street corner or under an overpass, praying everynight that it doesn't rain +or that they will wake up in the morning and not freeze from the snow +storm the night before. It's a circumstance from a situatuion, but I can't +believe that any effort was consciously placed in residing on a dirty +corner and wondering when will be the next time something good, not just +edible, but good will be thrown in a nearby garbage can. + +Just call me a humanitarian. + +-rio + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0359.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0359.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..721d3990 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0359.txt @@ -0,0 +1,188 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + An Excerpt From my Diary + ------------------------ + +"Yeah, i have a diary." + +Preamble: + +The names in this story have not been changed to protect anyone. Most of +the people that i talk about can sit festering in the most maddening +cesspool-ridden third world nations for eons: i just don't fucking care. + +7/17/95 12:00pm: sitting in a bed surrounded by thirty other strangers +It's been an adventure so far. Walking in the door wasn't a problem. The +secretary was very nice. i sat and waited and a woman came over to tell me +about the program. + +She showed me a map on the wall and the schedule. Then i sauntered around +for awhile and finally i went out to the car and brought my stuff in. Of +course, not before i had located my 'room' and placed my name-tag on my bed +(one in the corner, but the window). + +i slowly took my things out of my bags and dropped them into the drawers +of a small dresser next to the bed. i hoped it was my allotted dresser. +i didn't want to take one that belonged to someone else. Thank god no one +was in the room when i did this. + +i went outside and had a butt. You're not allowed to smoke anywhere in the +building - in fact you are not allowed to smoke *anywhere* on the premises. +i walked all the way down the hill, probably a mile, and then back up to +the top of route 183. i had turned around there earlier today when i had +missed the driveway. + +i smoked a butt. As i did, i stared out over the open fields below me. +Far off to the east mountains stood, tall, rigid; purple guardians of what +lay beyond. Standing in the center of the fields was a lone oak tree. +Weathered with age it leaned against the wind. Two crows alighted atop +it's gnarled branches. i remembered the _Dream of the Rood_. + +i went back to my room and read for a bit. No one else came in while i was +there. + +i called Steve and Laura from the bank of pay phones in the front lobby. +i was a bit nervous about the whole thing. They said i was doing great. + +i wasn't looking forward to dinner. + +After a frantic search i found the unmarked misnamed bathroom - it was +labeled 'shower.' i went back to my room, read, went to have another butt, +and then went to dinner. + +i found the dining area by looking at the map the woman had shown me when +i first arrived. It was upstairs. i got there early. Too early. i waited +around for an hour or two and when they opened the doors i wandered in. + +The dining area was set up like a typical small college cafe. i couldn't +see where you put the trays when you where done though. That bothered me. +It's the little things that get me. + +It was serve yourself. i slapped on things that i could recognize, which +wasn't a lot: some meat product, mashed potatoes, and string beans. i ate +quickly and then sat through four glasses of coke trying to figure out +where the fuck to put my tray. 'Do i leave it here? Or is there a garbage +area? Shit.' Finally i spied someone walking towards a door with their +tray. Bingo! i followed suit. + +When i got out of the dining area i realized i was starving. i hadn't +really eaten anything, although i had to piss like a water buffalo. + +----- +Just got off the phone with Steve, i'm off for a butt and then to bed. + +7/18/95 7:56am: Morning in hell. +Got up at 5:00am today. Everyone was getting up to go to the morning yoga +thingy. i stayed in bed. + +By the by, stumbling in last night wasn't so bad. i made it to my bed +without tripping or knocking into anything. Amazing considering the fact +that at 10pm they had turned out the fucking lights while i was out smoking! + +Did i mention the guys in my room doing yoga shit in the morning? No, i +didn't. Ok, picture obese men in their thirties butt-naked doing splits. +i had all i could do to keep from retching in my bed. And what the fuck +is it with all these fuckers not wearing any clothes! i'm all for naked +sleeping, but not in a room full of other men. Is this some kind of freaky +gay club or something!?! + +Showering sucks. It's a little cube of a room with shower heads lining the +wall. No bonus. 8 shower heads in a 12' cube. Whatever! i waited a +long time before i went into the shower. i was hoping that everyone would +be done by then. Almost everyone was. There was only two old guys in there +by the time i got in. Thank god they were shaving and i had the cube room +to myself. + +Breakfast was all right. i sat alone again. i took a fork, knife, and a +plate; which proved useless. + +At 8:30am i have to be at the chapel for my second little group thingy. + +It's weird in this dorm/barracks room. We are all here together yet we are +all in our own world. No one pays any mind to another. It's not as if they +are being disrespectful, it's just that to grant courtesy would be to +validate the others existence. + +Usually, in a situation such as this one - college comes to mind - +friendships start to blossom. It appears as though this isn't going to +happen here. + +Michele (a guy from Toronto) just moved bunks before he went to eat. i +wonder why. My snoring? Me coming in late? He's a nice guy, 30 somethin', +just shy of 40. He looks like he could still be in school though. He's in +the self esteem program with me. + +This poor woman in my self esteem group reminds me so much of Laura. So +much. i bet i could help her, but i won't. i have to keep in mind that +i'm here for me, not for anyone else. That's my biggest problem. 'Help +everyone - but myself.' Maybe by the end of the week i'll be able to do +that. + +8:13am i'm getting nervous. i'll try to pee before i go to my workshop +deal. + +Someone spoke! "Almost time." That's a first. i talked to Michele for +a second before but you know how i am. i guess if i start the conversation +then it doesn't count. + +8:15am says the nervous lad as he works himself into a frenzy. i'd console +myself with the fact that there might be some cute females, but there haven't +really been any yet. Besides, they keep telling us that we aren't supposed +to engage in that sort of activity. + +i think that they're on a power trip. Any place that denies you things is +too full of itself. + +i'm TIRED OF SEING NAKED MEN IN MY ROOM! + +Off to my meeting. + +10:30am Running. +Ok, that's it. They're a fuckin' cult! Jesus what was i thinking. i'm +sitting here writing in hopes that everyone is going to leave soon. Then +i'm packin' my shit and running the fuck out of here! + +i'd explain what happened but i don't think i can. It was weird. Really +weird. We were sitting in groups of three and then we started doing all +this relaxation shit and holdin' each other and whatever. Fuck that shit. +What in the fuckin' world was i thinkin'. These are the kinda people that +mothers warn their children away from. FUCK FUCK FUCK. + +i'm makin' tracks man. i'm getting the fuck out. i don't want two fuckin' +dudes rubbin' my shoulders and shit. What the fuck is that?! i walked out +of group. i guess i didn't mention that. i pretended that i had to go to +the bathroom. Fuck, i didn't go back either. No fuckin' way. + +No one has said anything to me yet. i'm wishing them all away now. i just +want to leave but i don't want to be confronted when i do. i'm totally +scared that i'm going to have to break out of here. This place is so freaky +now that i can see it for what it is. + +Lights out at 10pm, touch your friends, make them feel comfortable. +What-the-fuck-ever! + +i'm outa here . . . + + +- The Unbidden + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0360.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0360.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c5e1a974 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0360.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Thanks + ------ + + There are times when it should be said, and there are times +when it is assumed a person is thankful. As time passes with friends, +more and more things fall under the 'assumed' category. However, there +are times when it can't be said enough because of specific and unique +circumstances. One thing this file is not, is a beg for thanks from +anyone. Take this file as my normal rants and observations. Odds are +this file will overlap on some points with another I will be writing +shortly. + Some people are in a better position to help their friends, +while others are in a position where they are likely to need help more +often than others. It often has little to do with personal actions, +but more with circumstances that occur in a person's life. Sometimes +these events are controllable, while other times they aren't. There is +no way to define or categorize these people or actions. + As time passes, I find that the people I know thank each other +very infrequently. Thinking more, I find that I probably don't say it +nearly enough. This is by no means a suitable 'make up', but this +will serve as one way to let a few people know that I do appreciate +what they have done for me. The good part is, most of the people who I +feel I should thank read these files. + From here on out, I am going to try to make an effort to say +that one word more often, and I encourage you to do the same. It takes +a second of your life, and lets someone know that you DO appreciate +them for whatever reason. I doubt I really need to say more at this +point. As usual, just think about it. + + + Voyager/Major - For being there at any time. Helping me with + whatever problems I encountered, and helping me past them. + For teaching me the finer points of life as well as the finer + points of computers and technology. Thank you. + + Rage - For showing a new volume of tolerance and understanding. + For going with the flow of things, being a good friend, and + being the best roommate one could hope for. Thank you. + + TP - For being a good friend, and always knowing how to look + at things. When times are bad or weird, you can always point + out a new way to look at things and get the right perspective + on it. For continually helping me learn and explore new + things. Even though I have probably given him the most over + the past year, I feel that he owes me the absolute least of + all the friends that I have helped. Thank you. + + Pill/Shaedow - Even though we haven't hung out as frequently + as others, these two know exactly what friendship is. Both have + been there for me several times and knowing I can rely on them + is a good feeling. Thank you. + + Mom - For everything. I am fortunate enough to say that I have + a very good relationship with my parents, and consider my mom + a good friend as well as a parent. She has always been there + when I needed anything, and has gone out of her way to help + me out with tons of little favors. As usual, I can't thank + you enough. + + + Once again, saying 'thanks' in a file like this is in no way +what they deserve for their friendship and help. It is one way of making +sure they know I am serious and that I mean what I say. So here it is, +once more, thank you. + + + dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0361.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0361.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ad4d360c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0361.txt @@ -0,0 +1,115 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hi Fundie + --------- + + I've been involved in several religious debates, both on IRC and in +"real life". With this experience, I have been able to come up with many +conclusions, many of which I've written about, such as the purpose of the +"God" concept, the value of fear to the Christian religion, and the necessity +of all religion to satisfy the ego whether it denies it or not. + + Unfortunately I've also learned that open-mindedness is a virtue in +today's society. While it might seem "high and mighty" of me, I tend to +think that I can keep an open mind in most situations. Open-mindedness led me +to my religion, which I used to make fun of quite often(Before I learned +about it, of course). + + It seems the Christian religion itself tends to frown upon +open-mindedness, unless one is to "read the Bible with an open mind". Many +times people have told me this; "read it with an open mind!" I try, but +sorry kids--it's just a book in my eyes, not the "Holy Word of God". Someone +might throw that in my face and say "Now that's not openminded!" but alas +I've given the religion quite awhile to prove itself to me, and the Bible +seems more and more ridiculous each time I read it. I say just as easily ask +them to read a Greek Myth with "open-mindedness". Open-mindedness is not +willingness to believe, it's willingness to UNDERSTAND, to drop prejudices +and learn for yourself. Once one understands, it's up to them to believe. + + Since faith demands they have "no other Gods" Christians tend NOT to be +"openminded"(by their concept of the word) towards other religions or lack +thereof. I can understand this, dogma is dogma. In fact, I often find +myself thinking "HOW CAN YOU BELIEVE IN GOD!?" while a Christian might ask +"HOW CAN YOU NOT BELIEVE IN GOD!?" I can accept their dogmatic nature; but +it's when foolish fundies make statements with no backing that I find myself +quite frustrated. + + Fundies[Fundamentalist Christians] tend to attack things like evolution, +and to the uninformed they might seem effective. Unfortunately, evolution is +not "the process of which chimps become men." Another thing they'll do is +rant and rant and rant on how if there is no God we're merely the by-products +of chance, matter and energy. These rants are nothing more than appeals to +the ego, and they can grow quite annoying. Atheists find nothing cheap about +being *A* complex product of the universe. + + Other silly things said are "No self-respecting scientist beliefs in +evolution", "You can't prove evolution", etc. Unfortunately..evolution *is* +science. Belief in evolution is like belief in friction. "You can't prove +evolution" is a silly statement indeed--prove your God. "But that's faith! +And science relies on faith too!" Science doesn't deal in proof or faith. +"It's only a theory!" Scientific theories are not assertions; "Creationism" +is. Science gathers the evidence and makes predictions. When it fails to +make sense, it changes with time. Unfortunately the Bible cannot do this +easily, so people end up saying things like "You take it too literally" or +"That's human error". These rants can go on forever, and why shouldn't +they, because anyone can have their own fucking opinion on what "Paul really +meant" or whatnot. + + The tactics used in this type of "debate"[most utilized by FUNDIES, I'm +not saying Christians in general are incapable] are nothing more than +"victory by signs of frustration in the nonbeliever". If a fundie pisses you +off enough, he/she might consider themself the victor. Do not allow this! +Retain the upper hand! Fight stupidity with blatant, harsh, and sometimes +vulgar frankness. Blasphemy also works...just to make them give you your +telltale sign of victory--"I'll pray for you!" or "You're going to hell!" +Here are a few examples: + + "Everything you've said so far is bullshit. I'd like to see you back up +one, just one of your statements. Every statement you can make against +evolution can be refuted in no time. I have no time for idiots like you." + + "If there is a God, why would he make blatantly ignorant fucks like +you?" + + "An omnipotent, all good and all loving God cannot exist in a universe +with hell. Period." + + "God is dead. Shut the fuck up." + + "Jesus was a bastard." + + "Rege Satanas!" + + "I find your Christ revolting." + + People might say "You only stupe to their level", but hey, when logic +and reason fail, show the person exactly how stupid they are. They might +consider themself a victor, but you being a true victor can both revel in +your victory and in the knowledge that they believe they are victorious +indeed! To answer bottomless drivel with brutal frankness is better than to +say, tell them you're tired and allow them any chance of believing they fared +well. + + +Lord_H + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0362.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0362.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2e12f718 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0362.txt @@ -0,0 +1,243 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Suicide and Airplanes: Jumping + ------------------------------ + +I tried to kill myself when I was 21 years old. Whatever. Rough childhood +and all that. Anyway, I've been doing things that are a little dangerous +just about my whole life. Most people think I'm crazy. Or I'm a little +on the edge. In high school I was known as satan. Not that you give a +shit about any of that but it's nice to have a little background. + +I went to college in NY where I crossed a 3 mile long railroad bridge one +night with my roommate. It's famous now. It's in a bunch of railroad +magazines; the first railroad bridge to span the Hudson River. They're +rebuilding it into a walkway now. A monument of sorts. No big deal eh? +Did I mention that it's about 300' above ground? Oh yeah, it was condemned +after a fire in 1929? or there about. We crawled for about half the total +distance on a 12" wide I-beam. Very exciting shit. Maybe I'll write about +that someday . . . + +Anyway, that wasn't exciting enough. I decided to start train dodging. +Now that's an adrenaline pumper. Picture yourself standing in the middle of +three sets of railroad tracks. There's a small but stiff breeze. Down the +line you can see a small pimple of a light. You figure out which track the +train is on and move to it. You stand solidly in the middle of the two iron +bars. Throwing back the last of a beer, you grin and toss the can aside. +The echo of the empty tin can booms in your ears. Slowly the light gets +larger. + +Larger . . . more intense. It blinds you. The thunder of the train can be +heard now. It's less than a mile away. The light is right in front of you. +Day blossoms around you. + +Pounding, pounding, pounding. + +Your breath catches in your throat. What would happen if you just didn't +jump. What would everyone think then? Still no one would know. They would +know nothing. So you prepare to jump. + +100 yards, 80 yards, 40 yards. The rattle of the cars can be heard against +the constant background noise of steel on steel. For all intents and +purposes a million tons of steel comes barreling at you. Constrained only +by two insignificant steel bands. + +Your roommate jumps off. You stare into the light. + +This is what a deer feels like. Immobilized your mind races faster than +your heart. At 40' your roommate screams at you. His voice just barely +audible over the cacophony of noise created by the beast that is baring down +on you. + +30' and a solid force slams into your side. You fall to the gravel bed. +Rocks driving into your wrists: knees pounding into the wood of the tracks +next to you. + +As you lay bruised on the cold rocky ground a gale washes over you; sweeping +away the adrenaline as a cold shower washes away the pain of sunburn. + +We used to do that a lot. Then my roommate got tired of tackling me. He +began to hate me I think. Shit, if I had to save some idiot every night +I'd grow to loath them too. Later on in my college career I tried it for +real. I lost everything but my life: In a sense I even lost that. + +After they let me out of the hospital I left the state for greener pastures +and bluer skies. It was a good decision. It was time for change. + +Well, I toned my life down a bit. Instead of drinking myself into oblivion +night after night I started writing; I only drink on the weekends now. That +is, I try only to drink on the weekends. + +After a few months of being normal I got tired of it all. I lost my suicidal +edge to an extent. But I still had a craving to give my adrenal gland a +workout. So I decided to jump out of a plane. + +My roommate Scott and I decided that we'd jump. He's totally normal so I +was shocked that he had an interest at all. Not that you have to be abnormal +to jump out of a totally stable aircraft. + +So, we set up a date to do it and drove out to the airport. It was the +smallest airport I've ever seen in my life. I thought it was a farm. It +was comprised of a large barn and a dirt parking lot. Along side the barn +was a small trailer. Just past the trailer was the worlds smallest runway. +It was either a runway or a long stretch of crabgrass. Hard to tell +actually. Remembering back on it I think it was just a small patch of +crabgrass gone wild. + +We headed out into the trailer where we signed our lives away and promised +that if we died no one would sue them for it. They were to be held +responsible for nothing. No matter what. Fine by me. + +We were led into another room where we where taught the basics of arching +and turning and when to grab the toggles and what to do with them. We +weren't doing it solo. We were going tandem. What that entails is that +there's someone behind you that you're strapped to at the shoulders and +the waist. + +We suited up, complete with goggles and Greg Bradey-type pants. At that +point in time I'm sure we could have scored with any chick in the world. +We even got a cap to go along with our new nifty duds. + +Anyway, we met the guys that were to be our tandem counterparts. The guy +I was with was about 6'4" and skinny as a rail. Probably even thinner than +I and that's a feat. His name was Paul. We loaded up in the plane. Our +tandem partners explaining over again what the scenario was to be. Paul +was silent. I listened to Scott's partner. + +We'll be jumping out at 14,000'. We'll be free-falling for a total of two +minutes. Fall out of the plane. Forward. Arch. Because the two of us will +have a higher mass I'll let out a small chute to keep us at the same terminal +velocity that a single jumper would have. When I tap you on the right +shoulder spin right. Tap again. Stop. When I tap you on the left shoulder +spin left. Tap again. Stop. Check your altimeter. At 6,000' we pull the +chute. You let me know that you're aware of when that is. When I tap you +again hold yourself and I'll let out the shoot. Then stand on my feet and +I'll unhook you at the waist. You'll swing down, connected only at the +shoulders. Don't worry the harnesses are built to hold a weight of 1 ton. +And you don't weigh that much. + +So with that out of the way we're bounding along the grass runway. I was +in the front seated on the floor next to the pilot. My Paul was seated +behind me. If I were gay I would have liked that compromising position. +I'm not, and I wished to god that he wasn't either. I watched the pilot +defy the laws of gravity. We were tossed up and down, side to side by the +gale winds. I looked over at Scotty. He looked a bit scared. He kept +staring at me. Trying to tell me something with his eyes. (Later I found +out that he was big-eyed because the girl next to him was so hot. I was +enjoying the whole experience so much I didn't even notice that half the +plane was filled with females.) + +Paul and this other guy started talking about how it was so tragic the guy +last week had come unattached from Paul's harness and died in the fields +below. Maybe they shouldn't have drank that night they say. "Oh yeah," +Paul says to this other jumper, "which pill was I supposed to take?" "The +red one." "Shit," Paul says shaking his head back and forth, "I took the +blue ones again." + +At 8,000' we all got buddy buddy with our tandem partner and got latched +together. They double checked all four points of contact. Both shoulders +and hips. + +"Ok, throw 'em out," the pilot said, smiling at Paul. + +So, two by two, everyone made their way to the back door. Which, by the +by, was a solid sheet of plexiglass. Very cool. You could see for miles +out of that door. I'm blind so I couldn't tell the difference between the +grass, the fields, or the forests and lakes but it was enrapturing +none-the-less. As I made it towards the door Paul checked the straps of +the harness. When he was satisfied he pushed me closer to the door. The +sound of the wind buffeting past the plane was deafening. Everyone had +jumped but us. + +"You're friend said that you're nuts," he told me. "Are you," he half-asked. + +"Uh, I don't know. I guess you could say that I'm not right," I told him +blandly. + +"Ok, forget what they told you down there. We're going to roll out of this +plane." + +"Uh . . .," I half replied. + +"Just tuck your head between your legs and roll. Keep trying to kiss your +ass until I tap you. Then arch. + +With that he called out, "One . . . two." And out we went. No three. No +fucking three. + +I tucked my head between my ass. The world spun by then the sky then the +world. World, sky, world, sky. Blue, green, bluegreen, bluegreen. My +mind receded in upon itself. I was whole: I was alive and I plummeted +towards death. + +From out of the spinning blue and green came a pounding on my back. The +wind made it impossible to hear. We had reached a higher terminal velocity +than normal . . . he hadn't let out the safety shoot yet. We were still +free falling. + +I arched. Immediately we leveled out and stopped spinning. In front of us +the plane dove and swung up under us. We fell towards it and swiftly it was +under us and away. It was gone out of my line of vision in a split second. + +I enjoyed the speed. My mind raced quicker than my body. Ecstasy consumed +my very being. We spun right then straightened out. We spun left and +straightened out. I looked at my altimeter, 8,000'. God this was +intense! We spun in a left circle for what seemed like an hour. + +We rolled once and then arched again. I interpreted his nudges and assumed +I did the right thing because he threw up two thumbs in front of my face and +shook them. I looked at my altimeter, 4,000'. + +Then he tapped me again. I held myself. Suddenly I was jerked out of my +free-fall. The chute opened. He reached down and pulled my goggles off +my eyes. He screamed in triumph/joy/ecstasy/fear/relief. I joined him. + +I got on his feet and he undid the clasps at my waist. Then he told me +to get off his feet. For two seconds I thought I was going to fall the +rest of the way. But after a mere 2" my shoulder straps took hold and my +weight was nestled by the harness once again. He handed me the toggles +and we proceeded to do spirals left and right, testing the chute. +Everything was ok so we started fucking around a bit. All the while he +was laughing and screaming. We did a 720 degree turn that brought our +bodies up even with the top of the chute. It was tremendous. + +We settled down and watched the others who had jumped before us land. + +Then Paul said that we had to prepare to land. All I had to do was pull +down as hard as I could on the toggles seconds before my feet touched the +ground. He said that if we came in too fast that I should just raise my +legs up and hit with my ass. + +We practiced in the air. We both pulled down on the toggles and for half +a second Mother Nature was defeated. We hung motionless in the air. +Neither going up nor going down. It was the most surreal feeling I've +had in my entire life. There is no drug that I've found to duplicate +that feeling. It was almost as intense as plummeting down through the +skies staring at the massiveness of earth. + +When we landed on the pad I unclasped from Paul, shook his hand, and +tackled Scotty. + + +The Unbidden + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0363.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0363.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7d8a53de --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0363.txt @@ -0,0 +1,73 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the escher cage + --------------- + journal - 7.22.97 + + + i got the newest fuck file in the mail today. + number 360. the color of my thoughts quickly + turned grey as i read about the things that + d1s had to thank his friends for. i had a + realization. + + no one can live in your reality with you, no + matter how much you try to describe it to them. + analyzing someone else's existence is like + trying to make sense out of an escher drawing, + it is simply an impossibility. each one of us + lives in his own escher cage, and no else can + truely touch you. they can only guess at the + solution to the puzzle. + + you might wonder how this file caused me to + come to this conclusion. well, i admit it was a + convoluted train of thought. i read the file + and thought about the things i had to thank + my friends for, and quickly realized how + incongruent my experience is to his. he thanks + his friends for being there for him, for + helping him, for teaching him about life. i + have no understanding of his reality because + my existence is so truly mine. my friendships + have taught me that i need to fend for myself, + that trust is there to be shattered, that + your only constant friend is yourself, and + that love is often a lie. i cannot understand + him, and he cannot understand me. you probably + think that i am just cynical, but that is my + point. this is the escher cage. + + there are some exceptions. shakespeare + understood the human experience. there is no + one on earth who cannot find their own thoughts + and feelings in at least one line in one play. + joseph campbell spent his life on unified + experience. truths can be found in his + writings as well. and once in a lifetime, + you just might find the Other, the One Who + Knows, but i think that this must be rare. i + won't hold my breath. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0364.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0364.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..93070687 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0364.txt @@ -0,0 +1,161 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Right, the CDA, and Wire-Mother Parenting + --------------------------------------------- + +Well, congrats to free speech and the mighty 1st. The Communications +Decency Act (CDA) is deader than Julius Caesar for now (although these +almost mythological monsters have ways of sprouting seemingly endless new +ugly heads), and once again most of the world is safe to continue to +network, communicate, and in time, integrate. Everything from info on +self-breast exams to Hunter S. Thompson can be freely distributed, and free +from reprisal. Again: Hooray. + +I may not sound as enthusiastic about the victory as I am because my intent +is not to write the victory-dance for this achievement. Instead, it's what +I read while reading an article about this victory that caught my (ire) +eye. Dee Jepsen, president of "Enough is Enough" (file under Christian +Coalition, et al, if you're looking for the philosophy of this org), had +this to say in the July 7 issue of "Web Week": + +"Right now, the entire burden of protecting our nation's children has been +placed solely on the shoulders of parents." + +What the HELL is going on here?!? "Boo, hoo! You mean "I" have to watch +out for my children's well-being? No! Make a law! Make it better! You +need to make the world safe for right-minded, clean-cut, wonder-bread +baking suburbanites for me!" + +Are these NOT the groups, in addition to their "everything outside the +bible is printed at satan's publishing house" attitude, that mass-produce +guilt up the wazoo about "family togetherness"? Are these NOT the folks +that make every effort to make sure that every child conceived is brought +into the world, and that they raised in the family unit? + +Don't get me wrong here, I don't agree with things such as kiddie-porn, +pedophiles staking children in chat rooms, and the amount of wasted +bandwidth that all other forms of adult entertainment constitute. I also +don't agree that kids should be checking out gay-bestiality-snuff .mpegs or +whatever in "Into to Basic" class in the 5th grade either. Personally, +given the choice, I'd like to see a world that would make less of cynic of +me when I think of producing offspring at some point. Since I'm not going +to go on a 1st Amendment coon-hunt in order to make the world a bit more +Disney, then I'm stuck with the only line of defense I have in order to +make a child turn out a notch less twisted that I am in this bitter-sweet +world: + +Spend time with my kids. + +Tell me if this sounds right to you: I have kids. I get the "All Rimjob +Channel" from my cable provider. I let my kids watch whatever tv they want +when I'm not around. Now, does this sound like a bunch of kids that will +grow up knowing every conceivable angle and position in which oral can be +applied to an anal orifice? I'm pretty sure if my kids turned out to be +ass-worshipping rimjobbers working as jiz-jockeys in an all night +peep-booth in Times Square (and, in a perfect world, proctologists), I +REALLY couldn't get to far claiming the government failed to meet it's duty +in hand-holding me through the parental experience. + +I'm not much in the way of a government-basher on the whole, but there are +certain things I think the government can stay out of. When it comes to +child-rearing, short of a few brochures by the Ad Council, I don't want the +government anywhere NEAR the upbringing of my children. + +So, getting back to Ms. Jepsen's statement, what were they expecting? Not +only do I think the idea of the "burden of protecting our nation's +children" should be "placed solely on the shoulders of parents", I never +even CONSIDERED it otherwise until I read this tripe. While I do want +Uncle Sam to make an effort to keep dealers away from the elementary school +and making some effort to educate about STDs, it is still my job to educate +them about drugs and sex. What am I supposed to expect? For the +government to pre-read magazines and books for content? To make sure every +show on broadcast tv is fit for even the most prudish of Amish viewers? I +got two #!*@ words for you: N and O. + +Although the V-Chip raises a few hackles on the neck of +censorship-concerns, it at least has the ends-to-a-means of what I'm +talking about. If I want to keep the Playboy or Spice channel away from my +7 year-old, then I at least welcome the ability to program it out of my tv +selection. In a world where fiscal demands typically prevent both parents +from monitoring viewing habits, some degree of "programmable parent" is a +necessary evil. This extends to the 'net as well. If I want to keep +Capone Jr. out of the "alt.donkeysex" newsgroup when I'm on the commute +home, then there is software that will aid me to that end as well. + +Still, there is an even better, much older, and time-proven mechanism to +prevent this as well: Do stuff WITH your kids. As I said, this isn't as +possible as it used to be, but when there is time, time should be made. +Not only will you be able keep gang-banging bar-rape scenes on late-night +Showtime away from your kids, you can also explain what "questionable" +material you do happen to view. + +I don't care if you watch nothing but Sesame Street with your kids. When I +was watching it as a tot, a beloved character named Mr. Hooper (time-warp +time for the X'ers here) up and dropped dead. No matter HOW MANY chips +and ratings you install, REAL LIFE things are going to happen that NEED a +parent around to discuss. Life, death, sex, and violence happens outside +the 'tube, and you might as well belly-up and add a moral, realistic, and +involved spin to it while you still can. + +In the same disturbing trend as the CDA, the next form of legislation looks +as if will be geared towards FORCING the ISPs and online providers to +provide 'net-screening software such as SurfWatch. This is just another +form of lazy-parent lawmaking. As the V-Chip should be no surrogate for +parenting, neither should software. Even more importantly, my ISP should +NOT be goose-stepped into being Mom&Dad either. Only a +ill-prepared-for-parenthood moron would rally behind the idea that +tech-support should be parent-support as well. If my kids want to go +online, I should do it with them. Not to be a "big brother" for content, +but to explain what they see. Unless I want my kids to be so sheltered and +pink-skinned when they go out into the real world as adults, I need to HELP +expose them to the seedier-side of society - and I better damn well make +sure I am there with them to make sure they know right-from-wrong in the +process. + +You can cast a plastic-bubble of censorship around all forms of media in +your house for all of the good it will do. They will see it at friends^ +houses, on the playground, or snickering in the dark of a basement next a +duffel bag of someone's dad's collection of Penthouses for 1974. If you +shut out this kind of material, and allow kids to discover it from their +peers, then in turn their peers become more of a parental influence than +you will EVER be. + +So, to not only make my point, but to take advantage of the failure of the +CDA, let me say this: + +Fuck you, Ms. Jepsen. + +If your kids should read this, YOU should be there to explain this is a bad +word - not the Christian Coalition, not my ISP admin, and not Congress. +You should EXEPECT that at some point in their lives they will come in +contact with that word, and YOU should explain that it is an obscenity. If +you're worried about the "burden" being on you to raise your kids, pass +them off to the orphanage now, 'cause it ain't going to get any easier. + +So, to the entire conservative and/or right, why not spend a few less hours +drafting up legislation, and a few more of those with your kids. +Personally, I plan on using every spare MINUTE being more of a Dad that +you, the CDA, and the entire US Government could ever hope to be. + +- capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0365.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0365.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e9f1f686 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0365.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + heat + ---- + + summer is brutal. i lie awake every + night, restless, beads of sweat + rising on my neck, face, and thighs. + the heat makes it impossible to + concentrate, and my thoughts flicker + like a hummingbird jumping from + flower to flower. it's the heat that + keeps me awake, the heat that makes + me think instensely and unendingly + about everything that comes to the + surface from the depths of my brain + and body. it's the heat that makes + me want to crawl out of my own + flesh and become someone else. + + when the air above the pavement + visibly quivers and i can taste the + grit of the city within my dry + mouth, i feel dirty. it's the same + feeling i have when i see my ex + in the darkness of the club, or + i hear a song that reminds me of + the past. i want to run away, + escape, cleanse myself in a deep + clear pool. it's the heat that + makes me think these things, these + incoherent ramblings of a woman + who loathes all that she is and + all that she ever was. + + the heat feels like a pulse. a + constant beat that reverberates + through my brain and rocks my + soul with it's eternal and + relentless hum. it never lessens, + never fades. the heat is like + the razor that i once used to + tease my flesh, sharp and bright. + the heat is even a little like + a love i once had, an immersion + so complete and strong that i + thought it would never end. + + there is something good about the + heat. it goes away, it fades + gently into crisp air and cool + colors, kind of like the soft + shuddering end of an orgasm, + when the pulse finally ceases. + i like the cold. death is cold. + the heat reminds me too harshly + that i am alive. + + palpable obscure + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0366.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0366.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..576afc09 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0366.txt @@ -0,0 +1,118 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + body image + ---------- + + I think I am fat. Everyone who knows me insists that + this is not the case, that I 'look fine'. I am 5'2" + and I weigh 128 lbs. I have 9% body fat, which, to the + uninformed, means that I am more muscular than most + women in the United States. I eat 800 calories or less + per day. I think about every morsel that enters my mouth + and imagine the fat growing on my hips and thighs. I + know how many calories are in a postage stamp. I am + anorexic with bulimic tendencies, and have been since I + was 12 years old. I am 22 now. + + When an anorexic looks in a mirror, she does not see + what is there. When my ribs were poking out and I could + see the outlines of my intestines on my tummy, I would + pinch the skin on my inner thigh and resolve to eat + less and work out more. I needed to get rid of the fat. + It doesn't matter what you say to an anorexic. She will + always think she is fat, and she always will. + + Most of my friends assume that I am healthy now, simply + because I don't look anorexic. This is not the case. If + I eat a piece of pizza, I starve myself for the next 2 + days in an effort to undo the damage. On Saturdays, when + I go out drinking, I do not eat because I know I will be + consuming too many calories with the alcohol. On Sundays + I eat a single cup of plain white rice just to stay the + hunger pangs, and I hate myself for eating even that + much. Despite my efforts, I cannot seem to lose weight. + This is because my body thinks correctly that it is + being starved, and it stores fat and calories in case it + needs to use them for energy later on. + + You are probably wondering why I continue to follow this + vicious cycle when I obviously know so much about it. + The answer is simple. It doesn't matter what my brain + knows or what my friends say. The only thing that matters + is that I think that I am fat, and that I will use every + last ounce of willpower I have to control my body. Anorexia + is about a lot of things. Control, perfectionism, low self + esteem, negative experiences with respect to food, sexual + abuse. The list goes on and on. But the ultimate judge for + an anorexic is that mirror. Studies have shown that + women with eating disorders overestimate their weight by as + much as 20% when looking in a mirror. I look at women in + the street and think 'I am about the same size as she is.' + My friends look at me like I am insane. I simply have no + concept of what I really look like, and I doubt that I + ever will. + + One of the biggest problems with having an eating disorder + is the effect it has on other people around you, + particularly close relationships like family and lovers. + It simply drives them insane to watch you order diet coke + in a restaurant and no food, to see you cry about your + weight, to constantly have to reassure you that you are not + fat. If you love someone with an eating disorder, there + is simply no way to please her. The best advice I can give + is to be supportive. Don't try to convince her that she is + not fat, don't ask her to eat more (or less), and definitely + avoid comparing her to other people. Other than that, go + with the flow and try not to let it affect you. It is not + your problem, it is hers. + + Anorexia is a disease that never totally vanishes. Once you + have it, it stays with you forever to some degree. I think + anorexia is tougher to deal with than drug addiction, + because we need food to survive. You must face the disorder + every single time you eat, and there is no way to avoid + the struggle. Let's face it - even though your body + becomes physically addicted to cocaine, once you get over + the need, you never have to touch cocaine again. You + don't need cocaine to live, even though you might think + you do. You need food to live, and anorexics simply don't + care what kind of damage they do to their bodies in their + efforts to make themselves invisible. Every bite is an + ton of guilt and an imagines pound of fat, and there is + no way around it. + + As for me... Well, I know that I am sick, which is a step + in the right direction. I got past my dangerous phase, + which is even better. I have smashed my full-length mirror + and I shower with my eyes closed. I weigh myself 3 times + a year or less. But I think about it every single day. + And not a moment goes by where I don't wish that I was + thinner. Right now my eating disorder is in full force + due to various stresses in my life... If I keep + going the way that I am I expect to be at 100 lbs even + within 3 months. That is my secret little goal, and I know + it is sick, but I can't help it. None of us can. + + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0367.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0367.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8884a00e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0367.txt @@ -0,0 +1,87 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Rope I Swing On + ------------------- + +Ever stop to take a moment in your life to consider who or what +controls you? Who or what is watching over you? What eyes follow +you during the day? What forces mold your world? + +I must say for a fact, that I have done so. The answers to my +questions are not positively easy to identify, or universally +shared over a network of people, indeed they are often quite +unnoticable. + +You may wonder what it is that I feel controls me, that is the +silent feature that is buzzing in my ear all day long, for the +most part uncontrollable. This feature of life for nearly every +human bieng on this planet, descendant of the apes, is the one +thing nearly all of us feel we cannot live without it. + +What is this great evil and also force for good? Look around +you, do you see the computers rays beaming towards your face? +Do you see a dim light casting through the room in which you +read this file? Good. You see what I'm looking at. The one +force that surronds you constantly and that you fear you cannot +live without, technology. + +Technology is the rope I swing on. Without technology and +computers, I would be a lost meanderer in a world of desolate +information. Think about it, every piece of information on +yourself as a person, has been assigned a number, and has been +filed away. It has been filed away for any corporation or +government to cast a large shadow over you, the individual. + +What can be done to prevent this horrible tyranny? Simple. +Information must be liberated from the opressor. The information +must be of quality, and it must be read by the masses. A shift +of paradigms for the entire world would need to take place. An +utter catastrophe for those who wish to control you and I, the +governments and large corporations of the world. + +There are many ways to liberate information. The first of +which is to hound out and seek new information daily. Read +a book instead of bieng bombarded with commercials on your +television set. Take up causes that the Electronic Frontier +Foundation and similar orginizations are pushing for. Be the +master of your own technology. Understand and will to learn +more about everything. Never feel inferior. + +The rope I swing upon is slowly bieng gassed and burnt up by +crispy flames. I am starting to work towards my goal of bieng +an information God, one that the large businesses of the +world and the nations of the world will not dare to fuck +around with. Someone who has approached Oneness, fought +against the powers that be, and has been made better because +of it. + +I'm plunging ahead into a new world, a world that isn't +exactly going to be easy to survive in. I advocate becoming +a hacker, becoming part of the elite group that is seeking +out ways to better themselves, and the planet, and trying +to maintain a free world. Not one controlled by a tyrannical +opressionistic anti-freedom slave-loving aristocratic group +of corrupt men looming above you. Fight the powers that be. + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0368.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0368.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..38c375a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0368.txt @@ -0,0 +1,165 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Things to Ponder + ---------------- + + Just a few humorous things to ponder over. Kinda makes you + wonder who came up with some of this and why we continue + with our bizarre ways. Enjoy. + + * Why isn't "phonetic" spelled the way it sounds? + + * Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii? + + * Why are there flotation devices under plane seats instead + of parachutes? + + * Why are cigarettes sold in gas stations when smoking is + prohibited there? + + * If 7-11 is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, why are there + locks on the doors? + + * Why do they put Braille dots on the keypad of the drive-up ATM? + + * Lisp, if you suffer, you can't say it. + + * Dyslexic, if you suffer, you can't spell it. + + * Why is "monosylabic", by definition, not? + + * How many people with a speech impedement can say "impedement"? + + * Why do "fat chance" and "slim chance" mean the same thing? + + * If you can't drink and drive, why do you need a driver's + license to buy liquor, and why do bars have parking lots? + + * Have you ever imagined a world with no hypothetical situations? + + * How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work in + the mornings? + + * If nothing ever sticks to TEFLON, how do they make TEFLON + stick to the pan? + + * Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways? + + * Why isn't 'palindrome' spelled the same way backwards? + + * Why is it that when you transport something by car, it's + called a shipment, but when you transport something by + ship, it's called cargo? + + * You know that little indestructible black box that is used + on planes, why can't they make the whole plane out of the + same substance? + + * Why is it so hard to remember how to spell 'mnemonic'? + + * Why is it called a TV "set" when you only get one? + + * Why does your nose run and your feet smell? + + * Why does an alarm clock "go off" when it begins ringing? + + * Why does "cleave" mean both split apart and stick together? + + * Why is it, whether you sit up or sit down, the result + is the same? + + * Why is it called a "building" when it is already built? + + * Why do they call them "apartments" when they are all + stuck together? + + * Why is there an expiration date on SOUR cream? + + * Why does flammable and inflammable mean the same thing? + + * How can someone "draw a blank"? + + * Shouldn't there be a shorter word for "monosyllabic"? + + * Why is the word "abbreviate" so long? + + * Why did kamikaze pilots wear helmets? + + * What is another word for "thesaurus"? + + * When they ship Styrofoam, what do they pack it in? + + * Why doesn't "onomatopoeia" sound like what it is? + + * Why do 'tug' boats push their barges? + + * Why do we sing 'Take me out to the ball game', when we + are already there? + + * Why are they called 'stands' when they're made for sitting? + + * Why is there only ONE Monopolies Commission? + + * Why does "slow down" and "slow up" mean the same thing? + + * Why is it when two planes almost hit each other it is called + a "near miss"? Shouldn't it be called a "near hit"? + + * Why is brassiere singular and panties plural? + + * Why do light switches say on/off? When it's on you can see + it's on, when it's off you can't see to read. + + * How do you know it's an ENDLESS LOOP? + + * Why is FOOTball played by hand? + + * If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular? + + * Why is it that when you're driving and looking for an + address, you turn down the volume on the radio? + + * If you have your finger touching the rearview mirror that + says -- "objects in mirror are closer than they appear", + how can that be possible? + + * If you tied buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped + it from a height, what would happen? + + * If you're in a vehicle going the speed of light, what + happens when you turn on the headlights? + + * You know how most packages say "Open here". What is the + protocol if the package says, "Open somewhere else"? + + * What's another word for thesaurus? + + * Why do they sterilize the needles for lethal injections? + + * If corn oil comes from corn, where does baby oil come from? + + +This file brought to you by the Department of Redundancy Department. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0369.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0369.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..335b4bed --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0369.txt @@ -0,0 +1,373 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + separation of church and state + ------------------------------ + + If you have read past files of mine, you probably have a good +idea of my religious beliefs (or lack there of). I don't want to turn +this file into any form of religious debate, but turn more to how the +American government originally felt religion should be handled and +how it has fallen short of its original planning. + For over two hundred years now, politicians have babbled about +the concept of this separation. They follow the trend of the politicians +before them in saying that the founding fathers created this separation +and that it was a firm part of our system. By ranting on about there +not being a national religion, they have fooled a large part of the mass +into believing their lies. While the masses ate this up, they kept their +own religious beliefs in the system. + + The following two instances are the only places the Constitution +mentions 'relgion'. As you can see, there was never a mention of the +separation of church and state. The phrase we like to quote actually +comes from the letter (partially quoted) after the segments from +the Constitution. + + Article VI Section (3) + + "The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the + members of the several State legislatures, and all executive and + judicial officers, both of the United States and of the several + States, shall be bound by oath or affirmation, to support this + Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a + qualification to any office or public trust under the United + States. [emphasis added] " + + Amendment I + + "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of + religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging + the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the + people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for + a redress of grievances." + + + Letter to the Danbury Baptists + Thomas Jefferson, 1802 + + "Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely + between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for + his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government + reach actions only, and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign + reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that + their legislature should "make no law respecting an establishment + of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof," thus + building a wall of separation between church and state. Adhering to + this expression of the supreme will of the nation in behalf of + the rights of conscience, I shall see with sincere satisfaction the + progress of those sentiments which tend to restore to man all his + natural rights, convinced he has no natural right in opposition to + his social duties." + + + After consideration of the above, consider the following +examples that show a clear lack of separation. Some of these may seem +extremely trivial, but consider them in the bigger picture. + + * For the past few years there has been a series of 'black' + churches that have been burnt to the ground in the south. + Since it is happening in the south, and is directed toward + 'black' churches, it is pretty apparent that racism is a + major factor here. After several pleas for help from black + community leaders, the government has offered 10 million + dollars to help rebuild the destroyed churches. + + * In Denver, Colorado, there is a street (University) that + is typically a four lane road with heavy traffic during + most of the day. On Sunday mornings the state allows + parking in front of one of the churches (but not several + others of different beliefs). This parking accommodates + seven or eight cars to park there. During the course of + Sunday morning mass, several hundred cars pass by forcing + traffic to three lanes. Because of the unexpected parked + cars, there are frequently 'close call collisions'. + + * In several military bases, there are offices and meeting + places for chaplains and religious gatherings. In the last + base I was at, there was a separate office for the chaplain + and his assistant(s). Beyond that are full blown churches + built with citizen tax dollars. + + * In almost every city or town you go through, you will + find dozens of streets with religiously derived names. + The last one I passed was "Baptist Street". + + * I know in recent years the court system has changed their + procedures to satisfy everyone, but for hundreds of years + you were forced to swear on a bible. Beyond that, you can + still find various plaques and symbols in courts that + contain religious references or symbols. + + * Despite past debate, there are still religious references + on US Currency. Currency used by every American citizen, + paid for by tax dollars. + + * Post offices around the country sell stamps with religious + figures, references, or symbols. These are also funded by + our tax dollars, and are continually given to anyone asking + to purchase stamps, regardless of their religious beliefs. + + * New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani recently said "Mother + Teresa does not get tickets." He agreed to grant Mother + Teresa special dispensation after she requested ticket-free + parking permits for her fellow nuns who have found ministering + and parking in the city too difficult. + + * Recently, a lightning strike hit the steeple of a church here + in Denver. Since then (over three weeks ago), they have had + some portion of Colfax Avenue (the longest continous city street + in America) closed. At the beginning, it was both lanes + blocked off. Now, it is still west bound traffic. While the + road is closed, it is impacting thousands of people a day, + and hindering other businesses across the street. + + + Once again, it may sound somewhat mean spirited that I would +complain about some of these things, especially the last, but as with +many things, you must set a standard and live with it. This means taking +the good with the bad. I find it more amazing that people I know would +argue with me that there is currently a complete separation. Surely they +have run into some of the above listed items. I think it is a matter of +overlooking these events and dismissing them as part of daily life, +while not considering part of the foundation of our government. + + There is little that can be done to remedy the problem, and I +am sure there are a lot of people that don't even see this as a problem, +but it does go against the Constitution. If nothing else, let this +file serve as a reminder to everyone that many people out there find +this sort of oversight an insult to the American Government. The +Constitution says there is supposed to be a separation of church and +state... but it appears this is another area society and its leaders +have failed to keep the 'faith'. + + If I haven't pursuaded you of this fact, then maybe some quotes +from bigger names will help you. + + + Benjamin Franklin at the Constitutional Convention June 28, 1787: + + "I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more + convincing proof I see of the truth - that God governs in the + affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without + His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without his aid? + We have been assured, Sir, in the sacred writings, that 'except the + Lord build the House, they labor in vain that build it.' I firmly + believe this; and I also believe that without this concurring aid + we shall succeed in this political building no better, than the + Builders of Babel: We shall be divided by our partial local + interests; our projects will be confounded, and we ourselves shall + become a reproach and bye word down to future ages. And what is + worse, mankind may hereafter from this unfortunate instance, despair + of establishing Government by human wisdom and leave it to chance, + war and conquest. I therefore beg leave to move - that henceforth + prayers imploring the audience of Heaven, and its blessings on our + deliberations, be held in this assembly every morning before we + proceed to business, and that one or more of the clergy of this + city be requested to officiate in that service." + + + Thomas Jefferson: + + "And can the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we have + removed their only firm basis, a conviction in the minds of the + people that these liberties are of the gift of God? That they are + not to be violated but with His wrath? Indeed I tremble for my + country when I reflect that God is just, that His justice cannot + sleep forever." + + + Alexis de Tocqueville: + + "Religion in America ... must nevertheless be regarded as the + foremost of the political instituions of that country ... I do not + know whether all the Americans have a sincere faith in their + religion, for who can search the human heart? But I am certain that + they hold it to be indispensable to the maintenance of republican + institutions. This position is not peculiar to a class of citizens + or to a party, but it belongs to the whole nation, and to every rank + of society ... Christianity, therefore, reigns without any obstacle, + by universal consent." + + + US Supreme Court - Church of the Holy Trinity vs US 1892: + + "This is a religious people. This is historically true. From the + discovery of this continent to the present hour, there is a single + voice making this affirmation ..... These are not individual sayings, + declarations of private persons: they are organic utterances, they + speak the voice of the entire people .... These, and many other + matters which might be noticed, add a volume of unofficial + declarations to the mass of organic utterances that this is a + Christian nation." + + + North Carolina Constitution 1876 + + "No person who shall deny the being of God, or the truth of the + Protestant religion, or the divine authority of the Old or New + Testaments, or who shall hold religious principles incompatible + with the freedom and safety of the State, shall be capable of + holding any office or place of trust in the civil department + within this State." + + + John Jay - First Chief Justice US Supreme Court: + + "Providence has given to our people the choice of their rulers, + and it is the duty as well as the privilege of our Christian + nation to select and prefer Christians for their rulers." + + + George Washington - Inaugural Speech to Congress April 30, 1789: + + "No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the the Invisible + Hand which conducts the affairs of men more than those of the United + States. Every step by which they have advanced to the character of + an independent nation seems to have been distinguished by some token + of providential agency ... We ought to be no less persuaded that the + propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a Nation that + disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself + has ordained." + + + John Adams: + + "We have no government armed with power capable of contending with + human passions unbridled by morality and religion ... Our + constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is + wholly inadequate to the government of any other." + + + Judge Joseph Story - 19th Century Supreme Court Justice: + + "The real object of the First Ammendment was not to countenance, + much less to advance, Mohammedanism, or Judaism, or infidelity, by + prostrating Christianity, but to exclude all rivalry among Christian + sects, and to prevent any national ecclesiastical establishment + which would give to an hierarchy the exclusive patronage of the + national government." + + "We are not to attribute this prohibition of a national religious + establishment [in the First Ammendment] to an indifference to + religion in general, and especially to Christianity, which none + could hold in more reverence than the framers of the Constitution + .... Probably, at the time of the adoption of the Constitution, + and of the Ammendments to it ... the general, if not the universal, + sentiment in America was, that Christianity ought to receive + encouragement from the State." + + + House Judiciary Report in 1854: + + "Chistianity must be considered as the foundation upon which the + whole structure rests. Laws will not have not permanence or power + without the sanction of religious sentitment, without a firm belief + that there is a Power above us that will reward our virtues and + punish our vices. In this age there will be no substitute for + Christianity: that, in its general principles, is the great + conservative element on which we must rely for the purity and + permanence of free institutions. That was the religion of the + founders of the Republic, and they expected it to remain the + religion of their descendants. There is a great and very prevalent + error on this subject in the opinion that those who organized this + Government did not legislate on religion." + + "The great vital and conservative element in our system is the + belief of our people in the pure doctrines and divine truths of + the gospel of Jesus Christ." + + + Patrick Henry: + + "It cannot be emphasized too strongly or too often that this great + nation was founded, not by religionists, but by Christians; not on + religions, but on the gospel of Jesus Christ! For this very reason + people of other faiths have been afforded asylums, prosperitity and + freedom of worship here." + + + Supreme Court of Pennsylvania - Updegraph vs The Commonwealth 1824: + + "No free government now exists in the world unless where Christianity + is acknowledged and is the religion of the country ... Its foundations + are broad and strong, and deep .... It is the purest system of + morality, the firmest auxialry, and the only stable support of all + human laws." + + "Christianity, general Christianity, is and always has been a part of + the common law ... Thus this wise legislature framed this great body + of laws, for a Christian country and Christian people ... No society + can tolerate a willful and despiteful attempt to subvert its religion, + no more than it would to break down it laws - a general, malicious + and deliberate attempt to overthrow Christianity, general + Christianity." + + + Calvin Coolidge: + + "The foundations of our society and our government rest so much on + the teachings of the Bible that it would be difficult to support + them if the faith in their teachings would cease to be practically + universal in our country." + + + Continental Congress - May 16, 1776: + + "The Congress ... desirous ... to have people of all ranks and + degrees duly impressed with a solemn sense of God's superintending + providence, and of their duty, devoutly to rely ... on His aid and + direction ... Do earnestly recommend ... a day of humiliation, + fasting and prayer; that we may, with united hearts, confess and + bewail our manifold sins and transgressions, and, by a sincere + repentance and ammendment of life ... and through the merits and + mediation of Jesus Christ, obtain His pardon and forgiveness." + + + Noah Webster: + + "When you become entitled to exercise the right of voting for public + officers' let it be impressed upon your mind that God commands you + to choose for rulers just men who will rule in the fear of God. The + preservation of a republican government depends upon the faithful + discharge of this duty; if the citizens neglect their duty and place + unprincipled men in office, the government will soon be corrupted ... + If a republican government fails ... it must be because the citizens + neglect the divine commands, and elect bad men to make and administer + the laws." + + + Charles Finney - 19th Century Minister and Lawyer: + + "The Church must take right ground in regard to politics ... The time + has come that Christians must vote for honest men, and take consistent + ground in politics or the Lord will curse them ... God cannot sustain + this free and blessed country, which we love and pray for, unless the + Church will take the right ground. Politics are a part of religion, in + such a country as this, and Christians must do their duty to their + country as a part of their duty to God." + + +[Information for this file was collected over the past few years. I apologize + if I have missed any credit that should have been given.] + + dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0370.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0370.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8b3846c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0370.txt @@ -0,0 +1,98 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Airline Follies + --------------- + +I'm sitting on the plane in Cleveland, Ohio, waiting for this connection +flight to take me into Boston. while the weather is fine in Cleveland, the +weather in Boston is really shitty, and they have closed the airport +there. + +We have been sitting at the gate for over ninety minutes when the pilot +announces we will now finally be leaving, but, just in case we have to +circle around Boston for a bit before landing, we will be loading up some +extra fuel. + +After a moment, I look out the window of first class to my right and see +the fuel guy bee-bopping around the runway listening to his walkman. I +look out the left side and see fuel spewing out from the wing like a +geyser. Idiot has overfilled the wing tanks to the point they buckled and +split, thereby throwing fuel all over the place. + +The pilot comes on and tells us there is absolutely nothing to worry +about. Except, half way through his sentence, firetrucks have surrounded +the plane, and people in silver space suits are boarding the plane telling +us to get the hell off. "Whoosh!" All we needed was some water and the +slides would have been a bit more fun. + +I'm back up in the gate taking pictures of the fire trucks shooting foam +all over the plane, because I figure no one is going to believe this shit. +Other passengers are talking about the fact that it is useless to call +Continental and complain, because all they will do is say they are sorry, +and not do shit about it. Continental is good for that. Always saying they +are sorry while continuing to fuck up over and over again. + +Two hours later we are on another plane and off to Boston. We land in the +rain, and I head on down to baggage claim to grab my bags. Now, one of the +benefits of being a frequent flier is that my bags are tagged as "Priority +Handling." This means your bags are supposed to be the first ones to come +through baggage claim. Yet, my bags come down the ramp last. Go figure. + +I walk out and learn that I am hosed. See, we landed so late that +everything is closed. No buses, no shuttles, no shit. Only taxis, and I +don't have the hundred dollars to go that far in my pocket. How am I +going to get the sixty miles to my hotel? I go to the baggage claim, the +only thing left open, as they can't close until after the last flight +comes in. + +"Can I help you?" + +"Yes. Our plane came in late and all the transportation is gone. I need a +voucher for a taxi ride to my hotel." + +"What was your flight number?" + +"520." + +She looks in her computer and says, "I'm sorry. The computer shows the +plane came in late due to weather, so there is nothing we can do to help +you." + +Realizing I have just been lied to, I let her have it. "No! Let me tell +you why the fucking plane was late. Your stupid ass ground crew blew the +fuel cells on the wings of our plane and almost blew us the fuck up on the +runway in Cleveland. We had to wait for the firefighters to finish +foaming the plane and for the crew to get a new plane. That's why the +damn plane was late. Now I want a fucking voucher!" + +"Hold on a second," as she fumbles through some papers. "Here you go, +sir." I now have my voucher, grab a cab, and I am off to my hotel. + +I call the airline's bitch line the next day to let them know about what +happened. Know what they said? "We're sorry, sir." Just like the other +passengers said they would say while we were in Cleveland. And they never +made it up to me. + +se7en +8/9/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0371.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0371.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b80f56ab --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0371.txt @@ -0,0 +1,83 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A rambling discourse on the Night + --------------------------------- + + Mine is a rich world + Textured with the satin shades of night + +I like to go outside at night and fuck around. Connect to other people's +phone lines. Or just listen to the leaves rustle. Just sit and listen +during the fall. Or go out and watch snow fall and cover everything. +Sometimes my girlfriend comes, and we mess around, but I never really get +into it. I usually like to just go somewhere, like the park, or the +telephone company office. Sometimes I just go and sit outside someone's +house and think about what everyone inside is missing + +I love the night. It transforms places where you normally go into a dark +murky mist. It's like walking around with your eyes closed. The mind has a +tendency to fill in for what it cannot discern. You know where everything +is; you've been in this damned park a billion times in the daylight. But at +night, everything is different. It's like trying to read your name in a +mirror. You know it's your name, but it's just different enough to throw +off your perception. + +Sometimes when I go, I do some field phreaking. It's fun to do, and it +gives me something to do if I'm feeling active, or if I'm restless about +something, it keeps my mind off it. + +Halloween is my favorite night of the year. It's the one night when +everyone gets to find out just how different night really is from day. +Everything is there, just the same, but there's something in the air that +makes you more alert. It makes your eyes open wider, you steps move slower, +your ears listen harder. You focus on every scrap of information you can +get about your surroundings. I find it easy to find a corner and sit and +meditate about the day at night. + +On Halloween, everyone feels excited. There's this electricity in the air +that makes the leaves crackle a little louder, and the wind blow a little +colder. The air moves, but doesn't. Many people mistake this feeling for a +feeling of death, hence Halloween's association with such things. This is +not the case at all. These people feel how the night exhilarates the body +and the mind, and it scares them so much they associate it with the worst +thing imaginable. + +I am not afraid of the dark. I was once, but I just don't think of bad +things anymore. They aren't there, and anything that would make me think +they are is just my adrenaline. It comes from a primal fear of the unknown, +and used properly this can be a better buzz then any stupid drug. + +I go out every night I can and explore. I do this because I love the night, +I love the way it changes everything, makes everything special, exciting. +Just doing the stupidest things at night seems like a huge risk. It's like +flame to a pyro. It may just be a stupid camp fire, but to the right +person, it's so much more. + +If this all sounds absurd, it's probably the instant iced tea I had before +retiring to bed. That was about four hours ago... it's now 2:30am and I +should be outside. Well... I'm off.. + + +- Ambrose - +- mailto:ambrose@connact.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0372.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0372.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a4fb1e00 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0372.txt @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hate Therapy + ------------ + +So I found myself in something of a funk last week. Before I go on, let +me define "funk" in my terms and give a bit of background. When I was in +Jr. High and High School, I found myself constantly wallowing in depression +and self-directed hatred. I never opened the blinds, never went out, had no +real friends to speak of, spent hours just staring at the ceiling and +basically just wanted to will myself out of existence on a daily basis. +I was as close to goth as one can get without listening to all that +shitty music (Insert pseudo-apology to goths here). And for as close as +I came several times, I, fortunately, never got up the balls to put the +shotgun in my mouth. It's easiest for me to justify that whole "phase" +as teenage hormonal and psychological confusion. But upon further +introspection, I see some other factors involved in my departure from +self-destructive tendencies. + +I have to think the main thing was that I externalized everything. +So anyway, like I said, I was in this funk last week. It's as close to +depression as I have been in a while. As usual, it was for no particular +reason, what so ever (which always makes me feel even lamer since there +is no cause at all.) I had been keeping to myself for a couple of days, +didn't even feel like going out or dealing with anyone. So what do I do? +I go out. + +Why? To mingle with the rest of the humans that invoke emotions greater +than depression. To get angry. And I'll be damned if I didn't feel better +after driving around, screaming at all the morons on the road and being +annoyed with every single idiot in Denny's. The beauty of it is, you +don't even need something personal to hate them for. You don't have to +be racist or elitist or fascist. You just have to be a ME-ist. Just to +know that all the people around you, are not you, is often enough to +dislike them at the very least. + +It makes things easier that way. + +I think people underestimate the the therapeutic value of hating other +people. It is infinitely easier to get pissed and Joe Schmo for being +a fucking prick bastard, moron than to rip myself apart inside believing +that it's ME that's a worthless piece of shit. It could be true, but you +can't make me believe it anymore. Especially since I have come to think +more highly of myself than I used to. If you don't give a shit about +yourself, no one else is going to do it for you. Common sense, I +thought. But when you take all the destructive chaos that does nothing +but pick away at your mind and ego and you make other people wear your +nastiness, it takes all the shit off your shoulders. + +I know this sounds really "prickly" to some of you random-acts-of-kindness +people and all I have to say is: you're hated too. Don't feel left out. +What you have to understand is that some people are incapable of seeing any +bright sides. You just have to go with the steaming pile of shit emotion +that makes you the least uncomfortable. You just have to cope. + +The down side for the hate-therapy is if you are one of those people +that don't like being judged as a bitch/ asshole before anyone really knows +anything about you, this probably isn't the method for you. You get into +the cynic's mindset about everything and it's hard to get out even when +you want to. Personally, I could give a shit. I'm not a big fan of the +Human Race as a whole. I got used to people assuming I'm a bitch. But +that's another story. + +So the moral of THIS story is, give hate a chance. + +- Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0373.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0373.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..508fb197 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0373.txt @@ -0,0 +1,81 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Ups and Downs + ------------- + +I am sitting here in my hotel room in Washington, D.C. at 2:00 in the +morning not knowing what the fuck to do. While it's a Saturday night, this +town is not safe for white boys like me, so I am staying in watching some +horrible movie on HBO. Ninety-nine fucking channels and not shit on. At +least I have my beer to keep me company. + +In just a few days I will celebrate my one year anniversary of not having +a real job. I have made a living as a professional speaker talking all +over the country about computer security. While it may seem like a cool +job, it has had its ups and downs. + +The ups? Well, for starters, not having to get up and go to work every +fucking business day in my shirt and tie and watch the Dilbert Principle +play itself out over and over again. I did that once; never again. + +There are also the benefits of doing whatever you want whenever you want, +of not having a set bed time when you need to go to sleep, and not having +to deal with people if you don't want to. + +Then there are the benefits. My work with NASA allowed me to take a +private, one man tour of the space shuttle launch pad. I got the rare +chance to crawl all over it and check it out. Definitely cool. But not as +cool as being invited to the launch of the space shuttle. Last Thursday I +got to watch Discovery light up its 300,000 pounds of fuel and rocket into +space at 17,000 miles per hour. Forget television, you have to see it in +person to really appreciate it. + +The best part is being able to see the country and meet your Internet +friends in person on someone else's tab. If not for this job, I would +never have seen as much of the country as I have in the last year. + +It's a lot of fun being in this line of work. But it also has its downs. +First are the financial ones. In this line of work, it is either feast or +famine. I have just spent the last month in famine, and am now entering a +feast. + +Then there is the constant hassle with the airlines, of which I have well +documented with my prior writings. Of course, let's not forget the hassle +with hotels, shuttles and everything else a traveler must have to deal +with. They don't make for a pleasant stay while one is on the road in a +strange city. + +The biggest drawback is being away from home, away from your girlfriend, +racking up the phone bill as you try to stay as close to her as possible +when you can't be next to her in person. My current stay away from home is +for eighteen days, and it has become too much after only five days. I have +cut into my feast a bit and she's about to join me for the remainder of my +trip. + +I don't know what to think about this line of work. It's fun, but some +stability would be nice. Maybe it's time to deal with "the suits" and get +some stability. At least if the money is right. + +se7en +8/9/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0374.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0374.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7760fd30 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0374.txt @@ -0,0 +1,74 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Them and Us + ----------- + + So I was eavesdropping on yet another conversation at +lunch the other day and I overheard some overly made-up, motherly +looking woman talking to some of the other employees who were +outside smoking cigarettes. In a holier-than-thou voice, +announced, "You know, they say that every cigarette you smoke +takes seven minutes off of your life." + Of course the smokers looked at her stupidly and dismissed +her entirely, but that statement actually got me thinking. It +made me wonder who "They" are and what gave Them so much clout. +How many people have you heard say, "They say that it's bad for +you to go swimming within a half an hour after eating." And how +many people adhere to that religiously? Personally, I have never +seen any medical reports with empirical evidence stating that the +effects of water on undigested food are detrimental to ones' +health. + And how about this one: "They say that if you drink beer +before you drink hard alcohol, it will make you sick." Now, there +is actually some evidence that this is true, (nothing documented +that I am aware of, though) but it really gives me the creeps that +the general public, as a whole puts so much faith in what They say. +Even though most of Their claims are considerably trivial, it +causes one to notice how blindly people trust these unnamed pundits. +These pseudo-experts of virtually everything. + I mean, hearing a "They say" warning can definitely warrant +a certain amount of caution, but what kind of pathetic, weak minded +lemmings are we to go jumping off a cliff just because They say +that there is something even more dangerous behind us. + Even more terrifying are the alleged "facts" that everyone +seems to know all about. I can't even count how many times someone +told me something they claimed was a fact that I either knew was +bullshit or I later found out was untrue. And if you don't believe +that people are so easily led by lies, try this little experiment +sometime. Tell someone something silly, like "You know, cabbage has +five times the vitamin C of an orange." Now, make sure you follow +this little tidbit up with "It's a well known fact." Most people +will either agree with you like they already knew that or they will +just look at you stupidly, too afraid to ask questions about +something that they are apparently supposed to know about, but +don't. They won't rebut your claim of facthood and they won't even +bother to check it out for themselves. If you find yourself someone +who actually challenges the lie; Congratulations. You found some +intelligent life. This person is your friend. + It's funny how you can join Their ranks just as long as you +know how to bullshit. Yes, you too can be an expert on any subject. +Just TELL people you have expertise and you're in. Pretty sad. + +-Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0375.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0375.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f222f8d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0375.txt @@ -0,0 +1,94 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Good God I Love to Get Stoned + ----------------------------- + +I've smoked five joints already today. + +Sometimes, when I'm twisted, I feel a freedom I don't otherwise have. I like +to hack and phreak while my spine is hunched over a fat nugget. FUCK, they +*still* haven't put my phone line in yet. I just fucking moved and it's going +to take them like 11 days to get somebody out here. How am I supposed to +check my godforsaken email? ... + +I should just whip out my datastar and take care of this mess. Instead I have +to drag my laptop into another room in this building just to get online. + +I've found out some cool things since I've moved. I've had a chance to work +with my new Tandy PRO-2035 radio scanner. Two of the portable phones in this +building (at least) transmit on 46.630, and my neighbors are on 46.670. + +Elton and Billy next door and some girl across the street have no idea how +much their privacy is being compromised. I should probably be ashamed or +whatever, but I'm not. I am feeling no tinge of a conscious as I listen to +every phone call they make or receive. I just want to yell out the window, +"Hit the goddamned "CHANNEL" button so I at least have to scan for a few +more seconds before I eavesdrop on your intensely private (heh) conversation +any longer!" + +I wonder what you thought about as you read the first line of this text file. +There's no telling. Were you put off (likely) or was it more of a dread +feeling (more likely)? Maybe you're stoned right now too. Who the fuck knows? + +I hate to think about what others think about because I have no idea. +And if they can lie with any kind of skill, I never will. + +That's why I've taken to 'people hacking'. There's a FUCK file about people +hacking your way into a job, but I like to take it a step further, but with +a much simpler method. The method is easy: every night think about the day +that just passed and what happened to you throughout the day. Think about +what people said, what you witnessed, and what you eavesdropped. Think about +how what you know can be used (manipulated) for your own benefit. + +Fuck loyalty. Fuck friendship - they are temporary. Fight for yourself and +your own happiness, because you don't know it, but everyone else is. If you +do it consciously and they do it subconsciously, that means you have an +advantage when somebody's ass is Up Against The Wall. In the end, you only +have yourself. + +Computers never fuck with you and ruin your life like people do. That's why +only my computer knows my secrets. I'm not saying the NSA couldn't read my +e-diary, but you can't. Fuck the NSA too. + +Back to smoking - I enjoy it - it's no big thing, I guess, it's just another +illegal hobby. I wish they'd just fucking bend and legalize the shit. Kinda +reminds me of this big-toofed manager from the UK and what he said about +cigarettes: "Either fucking outlaw it or stop making me feel like a leper." +He was a socialist, though, and not all there. I'd like to change that +to something more agreeable, how about: "Stop making me feel like a leper." +Fuck your stupid law that is absolutely NOT applicable to me. gees. ... + +I used to call this BBS everyday and contribute to it, posting, uploading, +shit like that. And I know what's good for a BBS because I used to sysop. +Nothing ever improved on that board - the sysop was a dumbass. So I stopped +calling, right? Of course. + +Too bad we can't stop calling this universe. The fucking sysop is an asshole. + + +thanks for reading +- anonymous + +ps - fuck you for stigmatizing opinion and forcing me to express myself +anonymously. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0376.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0376.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..838ae6d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0376.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + How Does Everyone Else Do It? + ----------------------------- + Part I in the upcoming series + + + Tick, tick, tick, tick. All I can hear is the internals of my +wristwatch and the low murmur of the ceiling fan in my two bedroom +apartment. It's so quiet, I'm in the country and not a Taco Bell within 30 +miles of here, yet cows within walking distance. I look out my window into +a clear starry night, a car passes by on a nearby road. I can hear the +stones crunching under it's tires and I try to imagine what it would be +like to be the person in the car, to have his life, to be right there in +his reality. + I'm confused, dismayed and disillusioned by my life at it's +current stage. I'm a student, a professional, an introvert, a friend and a +lover. I'm poor, yet I'm better off than most, and I'm broke but I'm +salaried. When did life become so complicated? Was it not just the other +day when I was a junior in high school, living at home, working 9-5 a some +slave labor job and actually loving life? + I can't help but think about my teen years every day, +contemplating what I would give some satanic being to take me back there. +Most times I find myself contemplating the worth of my soul or some +essential appendage. Why do I yearn for those days when I was just a kid +and thought I knew it all? The days when all was trivial and nothing was +permanent. + Today, I am jealous of those students at my college that go to +parties, get drunk and seem to not have a care in the world. How do they +do it? I have bills, rent, car payments and insurance. I'm broke most of +the time, despite working at a very large corporation and making quite a +bit more than most people I know. Yet, I want their lives. I want to be a +party guy, I want to get drunk and stupid. I want to act juvenile and have +others around me just blow it off because I am a college student. + Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be Bluto from Faber Univ. but +I want to have fun. The only problem is, I can't let go of responsibility. +I am always worried or thinking about something. Did I pay this bill? Did +I get this done for work? Did I do my homework? Did I study enough for the +test coming up? Is my girlfriend happy? Like a broken Hank Williams 45, +these things cycle through my mind. + How do they do it? While my tuition is being subsidized by outside +sources and scholarships, I know most of these students are funded +primarily by their parents. No bills, no jobs, no responsibilities other +than school. They go to classes, perhaps work a part-time job to get some +spending money and THATS IT. + While it sounds enticing, and I think I'd like to live like that +for a year or so, I can only wonder what these poor souls are going to do +when they get to my stage of life. I've learned a lot of valuable lessons +in my 20-something years on this earth, and due to my choice of lifestyle, +learned it quicker than most college students. Yet I envy the four years +of parties, drunken sex, elicit drugs and vomiting. + This semester I've scheduled myself for 40 hours of work a week +plus 18 credit hours. This should make me forget all about fun and +parties. Welcome to my Dante's Inferno. + + +Tersian +Life Masochist + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0377.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0377.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..67714963 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0377.txt @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Beating of My Heart + ----------------------- + +Have you ever felt like running for no reason? Just running for miles and +miles to the edge of the earth. Have you actually ever done it? The +feeling of wanting to escape from something can be relieving in itself. +The sensation that the further you run the more your problems are going to +fade away. Whether you are running from an abusive family or friend, from +a torn up childhood, from drugs, or even from yourself. Sooner or later +you are in the middle of nowhere. No problems, no people, nothing to worry +about. Then you realize that you have stopped and cherished the moment for +too long, because all the pain you were running from catches up to you. I +do this all the time, and each time I do it for the same reason. I have a +mental disorder known as love. A day never goes by where I don't worship +it, and not a day goes by that the pain from it makes me want to kill +myself. As I run I imagine myself like Tom Cruise in Far and Away after he +drops off Shannon who had just been shot. I imagine myself running through +the rain in the dark as fast as I can. Everything builds up to this final +explosion of relief. I would run miles through hell for that one second of +relief. That one second where all the pain you have vanishes like a Sunday +afternoon. + +My problem isn't with love itself, it is how I love. My problem is that I +can fall in love with someone pretty easy. I just have too much kindness +in my heart to give away. However after about a week the person I am in +love with usually turns into a really good friend and I suppress any +emotions or love towards them. Usually the love I feel will turn into a +good friendship and I will never think about it again. This is how the +world works and this isn't my problem. My problem is that there are times +where that love never goes away. Even though deep in my heart I still +love them, I know that they can never feel that way about me, so I +suppress it and go on with my life. This is where the pain starts. + +Suppressing love is a very hard thing to do, and I am not very good at it. +I can keep the emotion hidden from the person who it is directed towards, +but I can never keep it hidden myself. In most people love can fade until +it is just a memory, true love never dies. My love stays strong forever, +never fading. It keeps brewing up inside me until I explode. The +explosions are the only thing I live for anymore. When no one else is +around, I blast music and run my head into a wall. When I was younger I +would put holes in my bedroom door, I would mosh against the furniture in +my living room, I will do anything to physically hurt myself. I do this +because it takes pain away from my heart. Well, emotional that is +what it does for me, realistically I make the rest of my body hurt so bad +that I don't concentrate on the pain in my heart. It becomes dull in +comparison with the rest of me. This might seem silly, or even stupid to +you, but you have to realize that my heart aches that bad. It aches to the +point where I want to tear off my chest and throw away my heart. + +The only comfort I get anymore comes from sleep. Sleep to me is like +marijuana to the painfully disabled. It is the one relief I look forward +to. Lately though I have been waking up in the middle of night. Restless +and unable to sleep. I just lay there thinking about how a life would be +with the women I love. I have great conversations with them, life time +experiences with them, everything I can imagine, all in my head. I have +lived and died many times all inside my mind. + +Beyond all of this, there is one pain that tops everything I have +mentioned, jealousy. Jealousy and I have become best friends, I know him, +and I hate him. Shakespeare had it right when he said "Jealousy is the +green eyed monster which does mock the meat it feeds on." When I am in the +presence of someone I love, and they mention other people they think are +cute, that they like or are in love with it kills me. At that moment every +portion of my body because of giant dark hole. My mind begins thinking +evil thoughts against the person. I just want to take that person up into +the mountains and bury them forever in a hole. Never again would she +consider that person as a viable subject for the future as they are now +dead. I actually feel like killing every person she talks about, every +person on this planet, so that there is no one else but me. I know this is +insane, and I would never do it. I feel angry towards other people, but I +could never extract that angry into vengeance. I don't want someone to love +me by process of elimination. I want them to love me because they want to. + +I know I am not the only person who has this problem. There are probably +millions of us out there. I am just writing this file so that I can +analyze my current state and try to figure out how to fix me. I know how +to fix me, but it requires something that no one will give me. The only +thing that keeps me going, the only thing that keeps me sane, the only +thing that keeps my alive is my hope that some day soon I can find a woman +who will love me as much as I love her. Someone I can spend the rest of my +life with. The way I see it, why bother living if you are only going to +spend it dying. Might as well shoot yourself now and get it over with. + + +Tortured Soul + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0378.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0378.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..af7b79af --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0378.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + I'd Like to Tell You How I Lost My Religion + ------------------------------------------- + +I was raised a Christian by my parents - and believed it. All of it, +ignoring the misc. contradictions and inconveniences, like most modern-day +Christians. I went to church every Sunday and was active in lots of +Christian-type stuff at school, too. I cared. I believed. + +Once or twice I even listened to the sermon at church and it *meant* +something to me. It gave me another outlook on life - kept me going during +my critical junior-high tenure. + +Then one day I heard that my pastor had had an affair (fucked) another +member of our congregation. She happened to not be his wife. It had gone +on for awhile. She was our neighbor. + +Currently, I'm in college and my views have changed. I'm an atheist. Fuck +that agnosticism crap - it's all a cop out designed to protect yourself +when you die. From what, you ask? Well, an atheist knows that there is +nothing when you die except death. Blackness. Nothingness - the best fucking +sleep of your life. Can't wait. + +I think Jesus existed, but miracles and supernatural stuff is bullshit. God +never existed. We are a mistake, sadly. Humankind is around to complete a +cycle of birth, life, and death. That cycle is what drives everything. +Humankind developed from monkeys or dolphins or whatever, now we're humans, +and soon we will be radioactive waste, and another life form will evolve +(probably cockroach 2.0) continuing the cycle. + +IT'S A SAD FUCKING THOUGHT, EH? + +I can barely believe I wrote that. How fucking depressing. I used to believe +that when we die we go to heaven where we pray all the time and sing and +worship god all day. + +I sure as hell don't want to pray and sing all day all night all the time +- I can barely stand the two hours of church per week. My heaven would be +freedom. Freedom to fuck in the street, freedom to keep your doors unlocked, +to have a picnic with your friends, to eat a grilled cheese sandwich, to +not eat, to stay up late, to sleep in, without fear of some ominous thing +happening to you as a result of one of those things. A world without +consequences, that's my heaven! + +Mark Twain wrote a book on this subject (and many other subjects) called +"Letters To The Earth". And if you haven't read it - you better haul ass to +the nearest HalfPriceBooks and buy that shit - it is good. "Letters To The +Earth" had to be delayed - it was illegal to publish it when Twain wrote it. +Maybe we don't have it so bad after all. + +But there's so much more to do - and the religious people of the world keep +getting in the damn way. + +"The bible says do this, and the bible says to that. blah blah blah." + +"Hey sundayschoolteacher, what about what I wanna do, huh, bitch? That's what +I thought - I cant do what I want to do. Why not?" + +"The bible says..." + +Anyway, that would suck too, because then we would have everybody out killing +everybody else. Peace and love have to be wanted before they can exist. +See, religion forces peace and love on to you, all the while you are hating +someone. If people would just learn through experience (evolution) that +peace and love are better and easier and cheaper than fucking hate, then +we could get rid of our silly, made up religions and concentrate on getting +shit done around here - hopefully delaying the end of our cycle a few years +more. + +So I was talking to my old pastor the other day, he came to see my new place, +and we talked about shit and we went to some Mexican restaurant for +margaritas. Thanks, dad. + + +porno funk (chickabowwow) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0379.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0379.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fac80d5a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0379.txt @@ -0,0 +1,191 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + no title...does it matter? + -------------------------- + +just read #376 ("How Does Everyone Else Do It" by Tersian) and it left +the rage in me soaring. what a way to top off a day... these past few +weeks... my life... + +i have many friends ranging from 9 to 60something. close friends. from +many different walks of life. yet few of them respect me...for who i +am. i'm 21 going on infinity. look like i'm 16. high school +salutatorian turned college dropout due to financial reasons and the +burnout of the century. on my own since 17, chased out of house and +home by a brother swinging the tongs of a fucking hammer at my face and +a mother patting him on the back as i flee. spent my 18th birthday in +juvie for fighting back once in 18 years of hell...fighting nearly for +my life as i was being railed on in my sleep. could have died then. +wished i had then. tried to finish it off myself to no avail. + +where am i now? + +of all my friends only those 40 and over make more money than me. while +my mother is bankrupt, my jeep grand cherokee is the one thing i own to +flaunt my success. i've given up my past... forgiven my family... help +them out when i can. i've been proposed to by a 44 yr old whom i dearly +love but not yet enough to marry, and am acting step-mom to his 9 yr old +daughter. scares the living shit out of me, cause the stats are against +me...the abused child often abuse their children...but things are +working fine. from her, from them, i shield my rage. but why? if +there was only some way to vent... + +before my current job i was a contractor. needed more money due to new +responsibilities of a family. said what i thought i was worth. +contracting house could care less. took the gamble. they lost. in my +interview as an employee i promised that i would stick around, should +all that was told to me about the company be true. one day after a +friend offered me a job for $30k/yr more, with great potential to raise +that consistently. but i remembered my promise. my $30k+ promise. the +day i started i realized i was lied to in my interview. that was over 3 +months ago. and i'm still here. the 2nd most knowledgeable system +administrator, 2nd to the new guy who started 3 weeks ago. but i'm also +the youngest. + +in my interview i was told that i would be the administer for over 13 +middle end servers, and a backup network administrator. my last job i +admin'd 8 high end and did shit with the networking. step down in +scale, but 5 more toys and a net to play with, with a nice raise none +the less. but money isn't everything. i was made backup admin instead +of primary. and the primaries don't like kids telling them what to do +and that they're doing it wrong no matter how nicely you put it. i was +told that the people here were like a family. close knit. and i am now +experiencing what life is like outside the knit...so close it could keep +out el nino. i was told that i would spend a great deal in vendor +classes to enhance my education in my field as well as a $4k tuition +reimbursement for college classes which work would not interfere with. +most of the time i work late and am the only one who answers the phone +at night amidst my meals and sleep. this would miraculously change when +i start classes? i don't even have the fucking time to register. lies. +all but the money. yet to me, for the work i am doing, my paycheck is +worth nothing. no amount of money can compensate for the skills i am +loosing. + +to top things off my boss told me this morning in the fourth one-on-one +she's kept in a while, after asking how i was feeling since the last +frustrations i voiced with her about the lies, that for +single-point-of-contact communication purposes with our offices in +nashville there will be one primary admin on the servers i finally was +granted primary on, and that will be the new guy. so now i have a real +reason to give my notice so i can go on to do bigger and better things. + +like start my own company. ceo at 21. move over gates. you're +history. $80k+/yr at my fingertips. my only concern? those few +friends of mine who are nearly in the same boat as me are jobless. +those who have not been found by whatever streak of good fortune turned +my life around in 2 years are scrounging their pennies for rent. living +with friends who could barely afford to make ends meet themselves, but +are kind enough to help support those who are less fortunate. #360 +talked about thanks. that's one thing i rarely say, and when i do, +abbreviate. now i want to show it. for weeks i've been debating with +my other board member about giving my friends a break. a chance to +prove that they are just as capable as i. that they have the potential +to succeed. that the only reason they were cut loose by the last nooses +bleeding them in return for pennies is that they are young, have no +degrees like me, but have minds and souls greater than einstein's. +finally i got it through. now i'm loosing sleep not over permission to +be granted to submit them for proposal, but for the yes on the rfp, +which is in the final stages of submittal. and also what to say in my +notice. and how to be polite about it. + +for a bit of reassurance on my change of course i saw a spiritual +counseller. one year ago, because i could not put logic to it, i +thought people like her were full of shit. but i needed something to +con my spirit into sleep. my first visit she told me my life. my past. +in detail. things no one. _no_one_ could have known. then went onto +my past lives. back to bfegypt as i'm choking up the tears listening to +night after night of 20 years of painful dreams being summarized in a +one hour session. and then she dabbed in my future a tad. more dreams +which i tried to hide from being narated as the feelings from them +surface in full detail. the next session she talked about kids. my +kids. "three" as she holds up four fingers and says "oops...maybe +four." and i could never even see myself living past the age of +20something let alone have time in life to be a mother...of even one. +nor did i ever have wish to. so i definitely have a ton of shit to work +on with that. the last session was a group session in which she +summarized to my lover the research i hope to do soon and the product it +will produce, and then left me choking after saying that what i will do +will change the world. + +i am only 21. i have no wish to change the world. my greatest wish of +all for most of my life has been to leave it. i didn't ask for it. +didn't create it. don't want it. haven't even bothered to conjure up +ideas of how, if possible, it could be changed to make me want it or +even be able to stomach it. who the fuck am i? she said i am powerful. +my life story is one of the powerless. what am i to believe? who is +she, to delve into my inner being and say that i am something i feel +not. but i have another session in two days. an emergency one that she +scheduled. she knew something was coming up. if only she could have +prepared me for today ahead of time. i would be in a more pleasant +mood, possibly. or would i? maybe i needed today. i needed to grow in +some special way. maybe she is being the mother i never had but wish to +some day be if her forecasting proves right. and i have another session +next week. and will probably have them for a lifetime. she is, not +because of what she knows of me, but for who she is, one of my most +precious friends. + +she said i can say no. to the kids. to the research. to my job. to +the world. all i have to do is say no. there is no destiny. we can +walk in the path of the stars or we can tell them to fuck themselves. i +was so close to saying no. i was nearly choking to death driving home +from work the other day...trying to write down while soaring on the +interstate what to do if i was found on the side of the road. got home, +took more meds, then rode to the er. put a fiber optic tube like the +ones i use to connect my machines down my nose to look at my throat. +looked inflamed. airway blocked a bit. dosed me up with steroids that +are only given to people with strong near-death allergic reactions where +their throat is reacting so strongly to something that it blocks even +the air that one breathes. and so many narcotics to help the pain that +i was puking for 3 days through my nose since my restricted throat +couldn't hold the volume. not many people know what i went though. to +those concerned i tell the smallest amount to keep them from taking on +the burden of my pain. my pain from what? blood tests and throat +culture were negative. clinically, my immune system seemed fine. tell +that to someone who can't even swallow right. my herbalist narrowed it +down to an allergic reaction, which my doctors were to incompetent to +even do. but to what? at a potluck two days ago the husband of my +spiritual councellor marvelled at my immediate improvement and asked +what i said to change it. what i said? he explained that the throat is +the location of the first chakra, a blockage of which symbolizes a +blockage of communication. to the extent of which nearly cost me my +life. what was i saying? or not saying? what was i about to say? no. + no to what? my future. my friends. my goals and aspirations. my +world. my life. one word. if i knew that 2 years ago it would have +saved me the misery of however many failed attempts i gave up counting. + +so what next? i'm guessing not even my councellor can tell me that. +the world is unfolding in my sleep. i did the esp thing with a friend +in texas. and all i said was yes. am i on drugs? i wish. can i still +say no? if i tried, would i live to know? i still don't believe in +destiny. + +then what is it doing this to me beyond my control? + + the truth is out there? + + really? + + i'd sure like to know.. + +yt. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0380.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0380.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9dfc6686 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0380.txt @@ -0,0 +1,64 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + No Money, Mo' Problems + ---------------------- + +Biggie Smalls should have renamed his last big hit to "No Money, Mo' +Problems", as it makes more sense. Let me take you for a small walk to +a place where my fantasy world leaks into your world. + +So there I was, lying in my bed, wondering if one of my many job offers was +gonna call and finish what it started, when it hits me. It smacked me harder +than a girl I tell I wanna butt fuck. I have't been on any kind of vacation +in over a year. Other people I live with (who don't work or weren't at the +time) get to go all over the place and visit home, or just leave for weeks +on end for fun. Not me, I have to work, or spend my time looking for work +after my untimely firing. It used to not bother me, I maintain my own little +world in my head where things are ok, and my hard work and kindness (when I +have any) will pay off. But now the real world is starting to creep in, +causing me endless problems. Money gets tight, things start to look bleak +and I think I'm not doing my duty to the people that live with me. Oh yes, +it's my duty. I promised one that I would take care of her, and the other +I owe. I don't mind. I created this world, it didn't sneak up on me. + +So I'm thinking about this vacation. I want to go somewhere. Home, another +state to visit people, pretty much anywhere. But I just can't swing it. I +don't have the finances for this. Others seem to, but I don't. Now you may +find this a petty complaint on my part, but I beg to differ. I've got +problems. Serious problems. People that know me know this for a fact. I've +kept the "bad evil" side of me at bay for quite some time now, but I know +if I don't start getting the things *I* want, it'll be back. Back with a +vengeance. One roommate was overheard telling someone that they needed to +find "less psychotic" people to live with. Hell, I know I go off the deep +end sometimes, but shit. All people ever see is the mood swings and the +violence. The never stop to think what is going on in my head to cause +them. And when I try to explain, I just get blank stares or "Yeah, I know" +just to placate me. But what more can I ask for from "normal" people? + +The big and small of it is, I know I'm not going anywhere except back to +work. While I want to go back to work and know I need to, I want more. +Don't we all? I don't want everything I ask for. Just the small things. +I guess the question is, "What to do now?" + +Apok0lyps + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0381.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0381.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5361b77a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0381.txt @@ -0,0 +1,114 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + musical reflections + ------------------- + + Having read most of the F.U.C.K. files to date, I notice a common +theme, women. I'd like to say that the inspiration for this file is original +but being the male I am, this is all about a female, just like the rest. +The only difference is that I'm not going to write one damned original thing, +this is just a big file of song lyrics that reflect how I feel, or just hit +home sometime. + + +"Someday, maybe she'll come back to me, and I'll say 'Why don't you go +fuck yourself, everybodys talking, knows that I'm lying, she gave me +everything, all I want is more, she won't do anything and I'll always +wait for her." -Reel Big Fish "All I want is more" + +"I don't fucking care, I don't fucking care, and I don't fucking care anymore +it's gonna be alright, and i don't fucking care anymore." + -Reel Big Fish "Nothing" + +"I've had enough sad memories to last me all my life, I learned to live with +doubt and I learned to live without, but not this time, I was walking wounded +I said never again, she makes it easy, she's my best friend." + -All "Right" + +"Nothing means nothing to no one I know, unless it's a lie, a lie is the only +thing I see when i look in their eyes, I know there's no good, everything's +bad, and it hurts to be apart, Black sky, black sky, what's wrong with me?" + -All "Black Sky" + +"I hate everyone but you, sometimes I even hate you too" + -Therapy "Totally Random Man" + +"Making believe that you still love me, it's leaving me alone and so blue, +I'll always dream, but I'll never own you, Making believe is all I can do. +I can't hold you close darling when you're not with me, you're somebodys +love, you'll never be mine, Making believe I'll spend my lifetime loving you +and making believe" + -Social Distortion "Making Believe" + +"Well I passed the bar on the way to my dingy hotel room, I spent all my +money, been drinkin since half past noon, I'll wake there in the morning, or +maybe in the county jail, times are hard, getting harder, I'm born to lose +destined to fail" + -Social Distortion "Ball and Chain" + +"Sometimes I laugh and sometimes I cry, other times I sit and wonder why +Sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down, other times I wanna blow this town" + -Social Distortion "Sometimes I Do" + +"I lost a girl, it's just as well, she tried to save me from myself, I still +got her on my mind, tossing and turning in my bed, but if she had stayed +another week, I would have dragged her down with me, she took it til she had +enough, is that what I thought love was? I told her see you later, but it's +hard to see at all at the bottom of a barrell with your back against the wall" + -Descendants "Coolidge" + +"When I get the time, I'd like to sit down and write a little rhyme for you, +just a couple few, I'd tell you what you mean to me, When I get the time, I'll +put it all down and pick you up, I'd say throw it all away, the world is me +and you tonight, Will there come a day with nothing standing in my way, +living that dream within your arms, I'll make it happen someday when I get +the time. I look in your eyes, warm places inside I've never been before, +I gotta find some more, I know you don't owe me anything, when I get the time +when I get the guts to live my life for me, and I do what I wanna do, I'll +be the friend that you said you once knew, will there come a day, when we +give up and turn away, and I have nothing left, nothing left, But I have +all the time in the world, time to remember, look through the window and cry" + -Descendants "Get The Time" + +"Should have been the driver, could have been the one, I shoulda been your +lover, but I hadn't seen.." + -Wilco "Passenger side" + + +And one I know we all feel from time to time + +"Let's bail, I don't wanna be here, let's bail, I wanna leave here. +Let's bail, agitate the gravel, let's bail, saddle up and travel" + -All "Let's bail" + + +And there you have it, a whole collection of song lyrics that reflect my +feelings as of late, not as good as just writing about them, but definitely +and interesting way to show how I feel. + +Shout outs to all of 303, Disorder for riding my jock til I wrote this, +Pill and Rage for being Booze Brothers above and beyond the call of duty +and all the artists who keep writing good music. + +el_jefe + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0382.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0382.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f6c420b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0382.txt @@ -0,0 +1,125 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Beating of my Bones + ----------------------- + +For the last couple years, seven of them to be exact, I have felt this +emptiness. One that was describe in the last file I wrote. I mentioned +that I liked to inflict physical pain upon myself so that I could drown +out the sadness of my heart. Ever since I wrote that file my heart has +been as a thunderstorm. Here one second, gone the next, inconstant and +never ending. At one particular point, in which I shall now disclose, my +heart felt as nothing. My entire body, nothing. + +So as I have done in the past I started physically abusing myself. First +came the liquor. Nothing smooth and refreshing, just straight tequila. It +didn't take too long before I was fucked up. The music was refreshing for +awhile. God, Mozart knows how to make an opera. As life, operas end. I +could have played another, but my bones just weren't into it. + + It felt like I broke my hand. I certainly broke my refrigerator. +However it wasn't enough, I could see my hand turning red and it wasn't +enough. I wanted to feel pain as though I never have before. I wanted to +feel alive again. For the first time in seven years I wanted to prove that +I existed. I am not just some ghost that follows you to work every day. I +am not just some reflection in a mirror. + +I left my house. I never lock the doors. If someone came in and robbed me +blind I wouldn't even report it to the police. At least I could say that +someone cared enough about the stuff I have to steal them. I am glad I am +not a materialistic person. Otherwise I might be upset if moonlight was gone +when I got back. Money is nothing, I could always buy another. + +Since I don't have a car I just walked. Any normal person would not +extract such a task upon themselves in my neighborhood. I am just glad I +am not normal. I am glad I don't care. I picked the worst neighborhood to +live in for a reason. I can walk out of my house every morning and look +around to say "My god, I live in the slum of the world, and I am a part of +it." It makes me feel better. + +Walking was a good idea because it didn't take long for what I was hoping +would happen to happen. A black low riding civic pulled up slowly behind +me. Just a bunch of silly punks looking for some action I imagine. So I +stopped walking. Turned around and played innocent. + +"You guys lost." + +"I don't think we're the ones lost fool." + +It was going to happen, I could feel it. I saw that one of them had a gun, +there were three of them in all. Were they going to try and kill me? I was +looking for a fight, I was looking for someone to beat me to +unconscienceness. However I was not looking to die. No matter how much I +abstract myself from this world I still love it. + +"I live in this neighborhood, right down the street. I am just going to +the gas station to get some smokes." + +"You picked the wrong time to go to shopping tonight boy." + +Boy? Did they call me boy? + +"I AM NOT A FUCKING BOY!" + +I ran for the person in front of the guy with the gun. I figured if he was +going to shot that thing it was going to be before I got to them, so if I +could put someone in between us his chances of hitting the right person +would be slim. Besides, he was probably drunk anyway. + +I threw the person in front of me up against the guy with the gun. He +flew back against the car while I threw the guy in front of me onto the +ground. While the guy with the gun was trying to recover I was able to +kick his hand hard enough to dislodge the gun into someone's yard. Right +when I was about to punch him the third guy hit me in the back. + +It didn't even hurt. I was a little shocked but not in pain. So I decided +to play along with it a little more. I wanted these men to beat me, but I +wanted them to do it with such vengeance that I would never forget it. I +wanted to give them a reason to do it. + +I quickly spun around and hit him double fisted in the stomach and then +chopped him in the throat. It didn't take too long before the other two +guys had grabbed my arms. These men were weak. I twisted my arms to get a +better grip on them both and then threw myself back pulling them in front +of me. This did not have the desired effect I had hoped for. The plan was +to get them to smack heads and let go of me, but instead they just sort of +ran into each other and then pulled me up and wrapped my arms around my +back. + +This is when the fun started. The third guy was very unhappy about not +being about to breath for a minute so he started punching me in the gut. +This is when I gave up. He must have punched me twenty times in my gut +before they let go of me so that I could throw up on the ground. + +After that I can't really remember what happened. It seemed like the +beating lasted forever but it didn't. After not too long the person whose +house I was being beaten in front of came out with a gun and told those +guys to "Get the hell out of here." He helped me up. I told him that I was +ok, and that I only lived two blocks away and could make it home. He +escorted me anyway. Some people in this world aren't too bad. + +My god, there was so much blood in the sink. I have never felt so happy, +so worthless in all my life. Finally, i am alive. + +Tortured Soul + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0383.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0383.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e3f0ec91 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0383.txt @@ -0,0 +1,82 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + elevator dreams + --------------- + + another day. i went to get lunch. i stood and waited for + one of my co-workers, and this guy did the typical get + in my way, i get out of his way, he gets in my way dance + near the soda machine. a woman who worked there came up + to me and opened her mouth as wide as possible and cackled, + revealing a mouth full of missing teeth and and ranch + dressing on her breath. she said loudly, "Shall we dance, + madam?" it seemed heinous that the word madam should ever + escape from her lips, and i pretended not to hear her. + + i got in the elevator, chatting inanely about work troubles + with my co-worker. i watched an unattractive women with + a nice body pick lipstick off of her teeth while she + examined herself in the mirrored elevator walls. + + i got to my desk and stared at a web site unseeingly while + i chewed on my toneless sandwich. i studied the grey walls + in my office and imagined cracking the heads of the developers + i work with while my office mate giggled insanely as he + tried to fix a problem, his newly bought lunch sitting + untouched on his desk. + + i read and responded to e-mail methodically, sipping coffee, + and tried to fix our slow web site. visions of art twisted + in my mind, and i longed to be home in my bathrobe, photoshop + in front of me, graphics tablet in my lap. + + xterm -e vmstat 1& + ps -ef | grep httpd + + netstat -rn + + unix, #include, blah blah. i am so tired of unix, so tired of + my job, so tired of Colorado. i would rather be in a remote + house with 5 cats and a freelance web design business and + someone who would come home and ruffle my hair, pour me + a glass of wine, ask me how my day was. i am tired of the clubs + and the booze and the useless conversation. last night i read + metamagical themas and burned candles and listened to classical + music. that is me, not this baseball cap wearing tomboy + who fixes web sites and broken builds and silly e-mail problems. + no one is going to die if they don't get their princess diana + update. she is already dead, nothing we can do. fuck 'em if they + can't take a joke. + + my brother called last night, freshly installed in college, + his voice vibrant and happy. i spoke to him with a smile on + my face and a light tone, but i felt grey, lifeless. i would + give the world to trade places with him, and regret my decision + to not finish school, give up my life and loved ones in NY to + be out here, alone. he is learning and debating and making new + friends. i envy him. + + life is too still, out here. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0384.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0384.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ff7cad1a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0384.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + POOR, POOR ME + ------------- + +At the age of eleven, I tried to kill myself for the first time. I failed +completely, and spent the next few years in a deep depression. I considered +myself worthless - after all, I was not even able to properly end my own +life. My parents did not understand me. Literally speaking. They consumed so +much alcohol every day that they did not even understand their own thoughts. +Mom tried to sell me to strangers and punished me with her knuckles every +time she failed. Dad abused me sexually together with our neighbors, friends +and close relatives. + I had only one friend during my childhood: myself. Unfortunately, I was +not very fun to play with, so I decided to hate myself. This eventually led +to the suicide attempt I mentioned in the beginning of this highly +interesting textfile. I began using heroine at the age of twelve. Since I +was afraid of needles, I had to take the drug via my rectum. Due to this, +I lost complete control over my bowels. My pants were always filled to the +limit with my own excrement. This was not especially popular among dad's +friends. + No one knows the real me. This is not very surprising since I am I, and +no one else. It would be quite bizarre if we were able to look into other +people's minds just like that. However, I enjoy knowing that only I know the +real me. The real me and I and friends. We talk to each other, and we do fun +things together. The real me tells I what a great person me is. I, me and +The real me are a team. Me sometimes accuses I for spending to much time +with The real me, but that is just how friends are from time to time. I wish +me would get to know The real me, but this is only something No one does. +And No one is always busy writing textfiles, like this one. + School went bad. Even though I knew that I was a genius, my teachers +managed to overlook this feature. I decided to revolt against the system, +which - given the way the System works - always led to sanctions, like 'Big +Bob will punch you in the face unless you give him your lunch box'. College +really fucked me up. It was during this period that I came to understand +that 'The System' is all people, except me. My genius forbid me to become +a part of The System. Therefore, I isolated myself, abusing nicotine, THC, +speed, heroine, crack, alcohol, vitamin C, LSD, TCP/IP, hashish, ice and +coffee. + Women do not understand me. They just cannot dig what a great person I +am, my great thoughts, my great beliefs, my great textfiles, my great +anxiety, and that the size of my penis would amaze them - if I had not cut +it off by mistake. I ought to admit that these are mere speculations. I have +never had a woman in my whole life. The reason for this is simple: they +would not understand me, my great thoughts and beliefs. If, however, some +woman (preferably one whom looks like they do in Hustler) reads this and +comes to understand what a great person I am, do not hesitate to come over +to my place and show me what adult people do when they are alone. Oh, well, +never mind by the way. I just remembered that I had, in a moment of +'hard-core truth-saying', claimed that love were nothing more than the +product of the needs of our selfish genes; a theory I picked up when I +scanned the latest issue of 'Incomprehensible Science Made Easy For The +Masses' yesterday. + Television sucks. How can people stand watching all that crap? I never +watch television. Yesterday I saw a commercial. It sucked. How can people +stand watching commercials. Politics sucks. Well, at least I guess it does. +Since no political party has ever been close to a proposal that truly +appeals to my genius, I never vote. Someone once asked me 'now, how would +such a proposal look like?' Is that not obvious? To me it is, but to you +it is not, because you do not know the real me. Teachers suck. Parents +suck. Computers suck. You suck. They suck. Textfiles suck. Only idiots +write textfiles about the anxiety they experience during puberty and +imagine that someone will be interested in reading them. It is like boring +your friends to death with your sexual fantasies. + My files are, however, exceptions. + Those who find my angst uninteresting are all a bunch of fools that ought +to be put to death. While we are at the subject of death, let me assure you +that I want to die. God, I want to die. Oh man, Jesus fucking Christ, how +much I want to die. Let me just finish these last sentences of this file, +then I will try to kill myself again. If I succeed, this text will live +forever. People will worship it, teachers will hand out copies to their +pupils, the president will weep as he reads it. You will be ashamed of +yourself as you realize that you did not realize what a great genius I +really were. + +- the gnn + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0385.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0385.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3bc36a6f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0385.txt @@ -0,0 +1,73 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Peeping Tom + ----------- + +As darkness falls over the lands, everyone follows their nightly +routine of getting ready for bed. Being caught in a daily routine as +everyone else I head outside to my nightly watering of the grass. I +have a small yard about 30' x 10' so it doesn't take much to water the +grass and it can be done in the cover of darkness easily. I get the +water going and spray the ground making sure everything is covered. + +I watching the house across the street as I have done for the past few +months, looking for signs that she is getting ready for bed again. She +comes to her bed room window and pulls down the shade but leaves about +10 inches or a little bit more open. As she steps away from the window +she starts taking off her clothing. I am able to see from her waist up +to her shoulders. First its the shirt and then the bra dropping into +a pile on the floor. She has a nice looking body, one that my +wife used to have before she let it go. Next she moves far +enough away from the window to show her full back side through the +gap in the shade. She heads off into her bathroom and gets her tooth +brush and brushes her teeth. When she comes back she is wearing only +her white g-string. + +By now the grass is watered more than enough and large pools of water +have accumulated in various spaces for several minutes, but the show is +not over yet. I continue watering the grass regardless of the fresh +pools of water. Looking back up I notice she has turned on the TV so +that she can watch the nightly news as she falls asleep. She stands +in front of the TV giving a full shot of her body through the window. +After a few minutes of standing there in just her g-string, she finally +removes them and lets the slide down her legs to the pile of clothing +she created earlier. I struggle to get a better view of her trim. She +watches the TV for a little while longer and then turns off the light. +Tonight she doesn't stand in front of the TV as long as usual, but +light of it shines on her naked body giving her body a light neon glow +as she climbs into bed. Then the show is over as she disappears from +the gap in the window. + +Seeing that the show is over I turn off the water and head inside, +where I will wait for about another 5 to 10 minutes before my wife +will be home from work. We will talk and let each other know how our +respective days went and after she winds down some, we will head off +to our bed room for a personal and close up show of my own. The view is +better but the body has grown 4 sizes and has gotten older. All of the +things women fight to hide and keep at bay while they are single have +come back to haunt her. It doesn't matter to me though, the show is +what counts. + + +hack'm Siegh + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0386.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0386.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..032274ad --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0386.txt @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + hands + ----- + + my hands are too soft. they used to be rough, calloused. + they would get caught on the hay in the barn i kept a + horse in. they would get pinched and dry from the ropes + i tied on the boat my parents owned. they would + get torn on the lawnmower i used every Saturday to cut + the grass. they were strong from stocking shelves at the + grocery store. my hands had character. they were used. + you could point out the tender parts on the flesh + and figure out how they got there. they weren't the + pale smooth beacons of laziness they are today. i + remember when they would be stained with ink and oils + from the writing and painting i did. now they are + keyboard pure, and it is obvious that they do nothing + but type. + + don't get me wrong. computers are hard work. but sometimes + i miss the tactile side of life, where hay is rough + and paint brushes scratch on the canvas, instead of + the cool clean existence i have today. i still write, + but the handwriting is in a monospace font stored as + bits, instead of messy writing on roughened lined + paper. i still paint, but the medium is electrons and + the tool is a tablet, the canvas is a software program. + too clean, too surreal. + + i consider the work i do for f.u.c.k. and the web sites i + design to be creative expressions. but i fear now that + i lean too heavily on technology.. certainly the quality + of the work i do now has improved. much better than + the chicken scratches on paper i used to create with + colored pencil and pen. it seems that with spell + checkers and editors and photoshop, the realm of + possibility is simultaneously more closed and more open. + on one hand, i can combine elements in photoshop that + would be difficult to replicate on paper or canvas... + say, a photo, the earth, a texture, and a 3D object. + and when i type at the keyboard, my hands do not + tire, and i am more focused on the words than i am + when i write on paper.. no worries about hand cramps, + neatness. mistakes can be erased as if by magic, and + no trace is left in vi when i make changes. yet, there + is less of an ability to play with the shapes of words, + say, in a poem, and there is less of a personal touch + in a rendered photoshop creation. + + i enjoy the hours i spend at my machine creating random + things. but something is missing, something i cannot + quite put my finger on. perhaps the aura of technology + makes the work seem less of an act of creativity and + more of a demonstration of technical prowess. perhaps + the lack of the tactile makes the work seem less + tedious and too simple. i do not know what it is, but + i am reluctant to return to the tactile and see that + my talent is non-existent. + + i guess it is time to buy a scanner, so that the waters + of creation seem less treacherous. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0387.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0387.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3ac2477a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0387.txt @@ -0,0 +1,162 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + "Can Apathy Die? (or "Earning your BS in BS") + ---------------------------------------------- + +************* + + + + +************* + +Above is my attempt at a text-based moment of silence for the stupid, +needless, and tragic loss of Princess Diana. When I first heard the news +about this, I was struck with disbelief and grief. As the reports +continued, this was replaced by sadness and sympathy. Now, after almost a +week of media throughput, I'm to the point of barely caring if she's been +buried or not. + +Before folks start flaming be back to snail-mail, I want to preface this by +saying that my first reactions are still the most honest and sincere. I +still view this as a tragic loss. Nonetheless, I've had my sympathies +systematically replaced with apathy by the relentless coverage. + +If it helps, think about it this way for a moment: If a bird flies into +the glass of your bedroom window, you would likely go "Oh, that's so sad!" +The next time it happened, you may still feel bad for the poor creature. +Now what if 10 birds a day started smacking into every window of your house +for two weeks straight? Wouldn't your original sympathies be replaced by +"Stupid @(*$^# birds...." + +A perfect example is when I moved to Colorado. When I got here, it was +unfortunately at the same time as two locally beloved polar bears - both +raised +from cubs here at the local zoo - were being shipped away. For the entire +first +MONTH I was here, this was the extent of the news on EVERY single channel. +By the time they left, I thought the evening news would go off the air for +lack of stories to report on. + +Here's how it got even worse: A few months later, two more cubs were born +at the local zoo. A few days or so later, one of them happened to die. +Not only did it die, but the mother actually ate the young afterwards. Not +only did she eat it, they actually had footage of this. I was still so +jaded from the previous set of bears, the only emotion I could find within +me about +this was a twinge of sadness they didn't show that footage more often.... + +THAT'S what's happened to my emotional threshold thanks to the media. + +Does anyone find this happening faster than ever before? I mean, it's not +like there are MORE sad and tragic things happening in the world today. I +have come to worry that my own personal jadedness and cynicism is being +tempered all the further by the increase in media coverage. If you're even +remotely as cynical about things as I am, you know the fact it's worsening +is FAR from healthy. + +In the past 2-3 years, how many of these events can we count with little +need for recall? OJ, Jon Benet, OK City, Anthony Kunanan, et al; and +that's without any real effort. Think back not so far - perhaps only ten +years ago. Now how many can you think of? The Pan-Am crash in Scotland, +the Gulf War, the Challenger disaster....I'm running dry already. Even if +these events carried the same degree of emotional impact and media coverage, +it says something else sad and pathetic altogether that they have faded so +fast from memory. + +I don't want to get off on an already well-beaten tangent about the abuse +and almost surreal proliferation of the media. Exempting some of my +existing criticisms about the media, I'm still reasonably happy with +network news and CNN. What I find unfathomable is the amount of the tabloid +media shows, such as "A Current Affair" and "Hard Copy", that report on +nothing other than the "sensational" stories. + +The reason I don't want to get off on a tangent about this is because we +are all readily aware of this fact. Most of us even complain about how bad +it's gotten. + +"Why don't they let it go?" +"Can't they give it up? I'm SO sick of hearing about this!" + +While this doesn't apply to all, I'd like to answer this question for the +majority of the armchair media critics out there. You know why there is SO +much coverage for SO long? Because, stupid, YOU STILL WATCH IT! + +I can safely say that this applies to most people because of a little +something called the Neilson ratings. Yes, that's right, we actually have +a running tally of you @$#&! MORONS that keep watching this crap you +complain so much about. Why am I sure there are so many? Because if there +weren't so many, they wouldn't show it! + +I only took a few classes in media, but it's real simple folks: TV is +based on ratings. Why did shows like "Cop Rock" and "The George Carlin +Show" get dropped so fast. NO RATINGS. No one watched them. So, if none +of you - or even few less of you - weren't watching all the endless coverage, +it wouldn't be on. + +I finally came to a conclusion why this is. Some people, either through +education or study, are considered experts about planes, birds, antique +tables, and even ancient Mongolian side-dishes. These are the people who +can hold attention at a party with their intricate knowledge; the ones who +testify at trials with key pieces of information to offer; the ones who +educate us with documentaries on A&E or Discovery; and those that are the +only "qualified" individuals to write volumes on their particular area of +knowledge. + +What about your average couch-monkey? What about that poor sap that felt +more in touch with Archie Bunker than his own dad? What about that +lifeless, media-entranced moron that actually dog-ears pages of the TV +Guide lest they forget particularly significant episodes on Fox? What do +they have to offer to conversation, let alone to the social collective? + +Well, they can be ed-u-cated about OJ. + +Yup. This is the only thing I can think of. The only reason you can get +away with a trial like that being on tv everyday, recapped on the news +every night, and still have the cumulative ratings to stay on the air. +There are enough of you +shmucks out there that need to know EVERYTHING about some murder, some +trail, or some tragedy, that you will catch every snippet of info or detail +fed to you. This has to be it, or the @!&%# books ABOUT everything on tv +wouldn't do so well. I'm sure if they had a trail about the trial, we'd +have a'plenty of expert testimony. + +When was the last time you met an educated, successful person who talked at +length about what the gardener for the Ramsey's had to say on "Dateline"? +Face it: If you have even half of the information about a sensational +story from the past two years, I'll bet dime-to-dollar you have nothing +else but a head full of "Jeopardy" trivia as an educational background. + +For those that turn off their tv when these stories are on, bravo. Even if +you're just watching part two of the "Brady Bunch" when they're in the +Grand Canyon, kudos for at least not supporting sensational media. For +those that still actually honestly grieve at the tragedies in the world, +my infinite respect for you - and somewhere within me, I grieve with you. + +As for the rest of you, I'm short on witticisms and analogies, and lord +knows they'd be wasted on you anyway. Instead, I'll try to put in a +context you can understand: If you chimps actually were monkeys, you'd +still only have enough of a brain to throw your own feces at yourselves.... + +- capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0388.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0388.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a8f9a0c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0388.txt @@ -0,0 +1,112 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Disparity of the Soul + --------------------- + +Did you ever step back to take a look at yourself and at times wonder who the +hell you were? Who took over your body and controlled your actions? That +you were not *you* anymore, and that you were not even sure who *you* even +was? + +I don't know why, but I feel this way now. I am so overwhelmed by +feeling and emotion, that I am encompassed within a whirlwind of +thoughts that aren't even my thoughts. I don't feel like *me* +anymore, that I have lost who I was intermingled with who I want to +be. I feel like a completely other person altogether (I think my +psychology teacher from high school called it hopeless, helpless and +out of control- but that was also referring to the rage reduction in +unbonded infants; however, it still describes how I feel at the moment). + +It is just of late that I haven't been able to converse with +Rationale, Reason and even a little bit of Sanity. Instead I walk +hand-in-hand in the company of Impulse, Immediacy, and Confusion. +Insecurity has become my Best Friend. I feel like that stupid mime +in the box, and the box is getting smaller and smaller, closing in, +suffocating my creativity and crushing my spirit. I am levitating +above my own clouded thoughts, clawing my way for an ounce of +grounded stability. + +Aside from not being able to channel my thoughts, I feel that the +things I believe in and are the most dear to me are the things I +I am loosing the most. I have a sudden insane obsession for +wanting to feel loved and needed to a degree that has caused me to +become terrified of loosing it all- so much that I am fearful of the +slightest thing that might make it so. I now live in constant fear +of my appearance, my reactions and behaviors, my ability/inability to +please, and +my psychotisism pushing away the only person that I love. Rational +or not, these thoughts linger in my mind and consume my being. And I +wonder, where did all these thoughts come from? + +My mind is in a constant battle between Good and Evil; meaning that I +know what I be thinking, what I be saying, and how +I be reacting. Knowing that I have these means to ensure a +victory, I am only saddened more from this elicit struggle that +assesses, rationalizes and reasons, however, is still defeated by this +*unknown* entity that has me under its grasp into which confusion controls +and consumes me. + +It has turned me into a raging bitch, a needy child, and a sniveling +faucet; this poetic +despair that has been thrust upon me. As I said, I no longer feel like +*me*, like I am incorporating emotion from others as well as intensify +feelings on my own. I especially feel extremely attune to Anxiety being +the most prevalent and the most stressful for me to embrace. I feel it, I +know it, and yet, I cannot escape the emotion that I ascertain from feeling +this way, and it is devouring my very soul. + +I always wonder why I am the way I am, yet in my heart of hearts, I already +know the answer. Why am I difficult, why do I have jealous inclinations +when nothing is directing me except my own thought. It all stems from my +emotion; as quickly as it is my best asset, it becomes my worst enemy as +well. As good/bad is it is/may seem, I cannot be born into one emotion +without embracing another. If I was not moody, I would be without love and +generosity; if I was not temperamental, I would not be kind; if I was not +opinionated, I would not be honest and sincere, and if I did not have +jealousy, I would not be able to give of myself entirely and completely. +What it comes down to is that one part cannot be defined as who I "truly +am" per se, but rather defined as a part of my whole, my entire complexity +of existence. Call it hereditary, call it personality, I don't know. A +human being cannot be described or defined as any certain way, or by any +specific aspect. A person becomes a person because of their ability to +change their mind, to treat each situation as specific and special as it +is, and to change as to not repeat past mistakes and history. In essence, +my attributes are my assets just as easily as they are my faults. Without +its co-existence, I would not be me. I could not be me. It's sometimes +much harder to prove to yourself what you are than to prove to the world +what you're not. + +Knowing this, it only escalates the hopelessness that I feel and the +intensification of the degree in which I am experiencing this. I know the +complexity, I understand the emotion-filled person that I am; I just wish +the animalistic nature of emotion would diminish to the caged creatures +that I was once used to. + +Creation could not be labeled as such without the existence of tribulation, +I just wish the tribulation would quickly come to an end soon. I long to +feel complete and whole again. + +Simply, + +Spyder + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0389.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0389.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..660b8eea --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0389.txt @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + palpable obscure + ---------------- + + as some of you know, by now at least, palpable obscure, + frequent f.u.c.k. writer, is me, demonika. i wrote those + files as PO to avoid e-mail from concerned friends. i + wanted people to be able to read the files with an open + mind, and not be colored by knowing the writer. + + but it is time for PO to die. i am sick of having too + many personalities. two is enough for me. i can be + honest about who i am now, and all that demonika is + can also be all the PO or the real me is. no one, save + one, knows the real me, not truly. even i do not know + myself. + + i am hoping to change all of that over the next year. + i want to come into my own again, unite myself into + a single individual, without remorse, for nothing + will be lost. + + this experiment has been interesting. only one person + guessed that i was palpable obscure. amazing that no + one else, especially my friends, guessed. like i said, + no one knows who i am, hence my disatisfaction with + the Colorado scene. + + thank you for reading my files. i will keep writing + as long as people out there read them. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.interlog.com/~lisa/f.u.c.k. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0390.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0390.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..45838689 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0390.txt @@ -0,0 +1,96 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + mindfuck me, baby + ----------------- + +good lord i need a woman. i haven't really *cared* for someone in more than +a year. i feel like a rock with no emotions and it sucks to be hard. it's +hard to be hard. + +i have a few friends; mostly the same gender as me: male. mostly stupid guys. +a few smart ones, and one real smart one, but he's a christian and he annoys +me sometimes with his holiness. i like to talk to him, but not for long. + +this isn't angst so don't stop reading. + +i'm not angry or disturbed. i accept my situation because i created it. i +don't make an effort to meet people. my hair is ragged and i wear the same +jeans two days in a row. i like to sit in front of my computer with a joint +and stay there. i guess i'm not noticeably unattractive - i just don't care. + +at the same time i have this overnight event in like a month where i'm +supposed to bring a date. yeah, right. i'll probably sit in the back of the +chartered bus with a case of lone star and have a miserable, albeit twisted, +time. but maybe not. maybe i'll run into an attractive, impulsive, healthy, +atheist/agnostic, stoner, freedom-of-thought type libertarian woman on the +bus tomorrow. hopefully she won't be a computer chick and then maybe i +perform some massive escapism on my lust for technology. + +"run away!!!!!!!!!!!" + +i wanna cabin. in montana. with no electricity, but with running water. i +want to live comfortably, but un-connected. de-net myself for a few decades. +just raise homing pigeons and hunt and fish for my own food. if the girl i +meet tomorrow wants to come, she can. ill visit home every few months, to +check up on the folks, friends and fast food. refill prescriptions and what +not. lots of prescriptions. + +wouldn't it be nice to not check your email for seven days? just set up a +vacation so you can give autoresponses to everyone like: + +Hi! I'm taking an email vacation - if it's important, call me voice, if not, +you'll hear from me next week. thanks! + +..*sigh* + +i should do that, and you should too. take a break. use your computer for +papers and homework, but detach yourself from any online communities you +affiliate with. don't answer email. don't read news (DON'T READ NEWS?!!?! +Noooooooooooooooooooo!!) for a week. go to class and come home and do your +homework or read or explore the area where you live. try it: just one week. + +i will, i swear to god. i will. just one week - then i'll be back. and then +i'll take another break every three months or so. maybe that's when i could +do my wash. + +anyways my point is this: i need some good conversation. i would rather have +someone to talk to than to have sex with at this point. if conversations +were fruits and veggies, i'd have scurvy by now. i'm a lonely sailor, sailing +the ship of my fate off the edge of the earth. i have no idea what i'll see +when i get there. either i discover a new world on this globe or sail off the +flat sea into space. + +"we breath deep in a steam dream +and plunge below the waterline +down, down, down, down, down, +between beams to the blue moon +among the seaweed and the slime +down, down, down, down, down, down." + +it's amazing how music can affect mood. + +changing sucks. + + +**porno*funk** + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0391.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0391.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c72caae1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0391.txt @@ -0,0 +1,67 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + How Do They Do it? [Part II in the series] + "Nerds Are Artists Too" + + "Man, I wish I could do that," was all that was going through my +mind as I listened to my car stereo do an injustice to some vintage Eddie +Van Halen guitar on the radio. "He plays the guitar like it's part of his +body," I thought as my car floated down the road. I began to wonder what +it would be like to be a musician like that. At first, I thought it must +be tough to crank out those notes and near impossible to do the solos from +the cuff, but then I realized something. Not only does it sound natural +when most professionals play music, it looks natural, it is natural! Most +of these guys have been playing their instruments for almost as long as I +have been using a computer. When they sit down to play, they just do it, +their fingers and bodies are on autopilot and they are, at any one moment, +three steps ahead of where they are going and have no reservations or +fears about getting there. + I began to realize that this all sounds awfully familiar until I +began to complain to myself that I had quit playing drums at 13 and guitar +a year later. Feeling empty because I really don't participate in any +traditional artistic expression, I realized where I had felt the same +natural feeling doing something, the computer. When I sit down to a +terminal, I feel at home. The keyboard feels natural to me and my fingers +know their way from the escape key to the numeric keypad like a pianist +knows the keys of a piano. When I sit down to program or to simply peruse +a UNIX system. I know where I am going and when my finger start typing, +they know their way and the path they are going to take to get there. + So how is this art? Well Merriam Webster defines art as art(n): 1 +: "skill acquired by experience, study, or observation" and "the conscious +use of skill and creative imagination.." Under these definitions, being a +computer nerd like myself IS an art. As far as creativity, look at all the +different ways one program can be written, or look at Linux, the +culmination of many different artists on one project (a project still in +development I may add :) ). + So where's the glory? Where are my thin, large busomed, blondes +wearing thongs that eventually end up on stage? Why doesn't anyone ask me +to program in front of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans? Well, for +the most part, we're just the unsung heroes of the next generation. Granted +there are stars like Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs, but they are the Elvis's +and Michael Jackson's of our time. The real stars have yet to shine. + So keep those keyboards clean, practice and learn, soon we will +all get the recognition that we deserve. + + +-tersIan + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0392.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0392.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7a2e951e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0392.txt @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + [ X ] + ----- + + "get out of the garbage can, this is + psychodrama, dammit! you are supposed + to use this for healing!" + + i sat limply inside of a garbage can, + forty hands pushing on my shoulders. + i felt trapped, and i suddenly + remembered other hands that held me + down. tears sprang unbidden to my + eyes. i did not want to rise. it was + too easy, too comfortable to be here, + held down, not in charge of my own + destiny. the disease, i could blame + it on the disease. + + day in day out. i took my meds like a + good little psych patient, joked + with the mental health workers, + dutifully signed out my sharps. i did + my homework in the allotted hour and + snuck cigarettes in the bathroom. i + only got caught once. my disease was a + weight on my shoulders that i ignored. + + i sat in group and smiled while digging + my fingernails into my hands. i wrote + incessantly about blood. people watched + me take a piss. there was no privacy. + there was no touching. no human contact, + no love. there was nothing but group and + meals and the pure outpouring of raw + emotion from 7 a.m. until 10 p.m. Blood + was drawn, weight was written down, + i went to therapy three times a week. + + pure monotony. + + but i learned some things. i learned that + modern psychiatry is bullshit, and that + mental hospitals are crap. nothing good + comes out of it.. they put you in your + own little world, a world that is NOT + a microcosm of the real world, but rather + a simulated, comfortable surreality that + doesn't do shit to help you. they scar + you. + + funny how it will grab me. i was walking + down the street, and i saw a couple + holding hands. i was filled with a sense + of wrong, and a thought flashed through + my mind. + + no pc allowed. + + i had to shake my head, remind myself that + in the real world, people are allowed to + touch each other. + + funny, treatment takes almost as long as + it takes for your insurance to run out. + greedy bastards... they fuck kids up for + money, and they don't even help them. + parents don't know this, but the kids who + have no privacy and are treated like animals + do. + + so i sit here and write, and i am doing + a thousand things that i would not be allowed + to do in a psych ward. i ask, why? why + couldn't i smoke? drink coffee? watch a + movie that has violence in it? swear? + these things happen in the real world, + and nothing they do in this places + helps you deal with it, much less the + things that threw you in there. how can + i deal with being beaten by my lover if + i am not allowed to see a violent movie + because it might hurt my tender money + producing sensibilities? + + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0393.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0393.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e65a20b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0393.txt @@ -0,0 +1,130 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diphthong + --------- + + "This combination of reduced temperatures and reduced light + levels are causing catastrophic ecological consequences. + Average light levels would be below the minimum required + for photosynthesis during the first 30-40 days after the + explosion and most fresh water would be frozen. The + TTAPS study concluded: 'the extinction of Homo Sapiens is + imminent.' This effect is similar to what may have killed + the dinosaurs." + + +Read this slowly. Concentrate on the words you read and comprehend them +fully. + +diphthong + +Think of your childhood, and where you lived back then. How did your house +look? Go younger still. Slow down. Think of times when you were a baby. +Images and dialogues erupt in your mind. Now think of your whole life. +Think of a bad time in your childhood. Maybe the worst day of your life. +What happened that day? Who was with you? Remember the utter .. pain .. +you were in. Concentrate on that pain, relish in it. Every time you see + +diphthong + +you will feel this pain. You will concentrate on it for a split second, and +then feel nothing. You now forget the deepest pain. + + +I don't know who I am. I haven't known since November 14, thirty days ago. +No one knows who they are anymore. + +That Friday, they dropped the bomb in Omaha. 340,000 people were killed. We +assume they picked Omaha because the U.S. had a huge nuclear missile range +there, outside of town. Plus the U.S. was doing all kinds of experimental +shit in the areas surrounding Omaha. + +I'm in Oklahoma City where the sun hasn't appeared in a month. Most of the +continental United States is covered in miles and miles of atomic-dust. + +It's a nuclear winter. + +All plants are dead, and no plants grow. All freshwater is frozen. We have +halogen lamps and hot water, but for how long? Oxygen has depleted 2% from +the Earth's atmosphere. We will die, *all of us*, in less than a year. + +All of us. diphthong + +I sit and shake all day. I sit in my chair, in this chair, and chain-smoke. +The Internet is a mess. Most traffic has been disabled, due to vandals, +sabateurs, and frantics. We are all exhaustingly frantic. + +Yet it had been the most pleasureable part of my entire existence. + +I know I will die around a year from now. Nothing needs justifying, no +consequences. I'm not afraid of death, and most people aren't either. +Crime is high, but none reported. The U.S. Government was abolished in an +emergency session of the House and Senate. The President signed it ten +days ago. + +Today is December 13. Let it snow, let it snow. We wander around, loot +stores that have closed, and people with trucks go to warehouses across the +state to feed their block for a week. Everyone quickly, quietly works, +sustaining life, but enjoying life, for just a little longer. + +The eastern hemisphere is automatically executing all immigrants who arrive +without massive amounts of gold. + +Most of Mexico and Canada have been obliterated, just like us, but the +surviving areas have become a desolate war zone / wild West. + +In one year, the world will exist without living humans in the Americas. +Isn't that fucked up? + +exist without living. diphthong + +Thousands others commit suicide every day. Most of my family did yesterday, +and my girlfriend, the day before that. + +I'm on my way to Texas, gonna go as south as possible and try to get into +Mexico if I can. From there, maybe south some more, and Central America +sounds like paradise: sunshine. I have one year before I starve to death. + +I've been learning Spanish from a defective Mexican soldier I met in Dallas. +He escaped from The Battle of San Antonio in a car he stole from a woman he +raped and murdered, and was lost in Georgetown or Temple. Then he got some +new clothes and hitchhiked to Dallas, where he's been staying with my +sister. But he knocked himself off this morning. She's with me, in the +backseat of her stolen two-ton Ford van, asleep. She killed the previous +owner with a gun she got from Felix, the (now dead) Mexican soldier. + +I have a shotgun and a Mexican military machine gun, with 500 rounds, under +my sister, under the back seat. She has a handgun and so do I. We have +boxes of ammo. We have two 20 gallon barrels of water in the back, and some +food; enough for a few months. + +I've had sex with my sister, in the van mostly. + +We knew it wouldn't matter, and we both wanted to fuck, so we did. + +enough about sex diphthong + +So basically that's it. + + +**porno*funk** + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0394.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0394.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..59cc116e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0394.txt @@ -0,0 +1,223 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + prelude to sleeping + ------------------- + +it never ends. the calm inside of me. the depth of reaching, of growing. +of stretching out and feeling free. of being new. + +It is now nearly 4:30a. I have listened to _fumbling towards ecstasy_ three +times, and have such a gamut of emotions, that even I can barely contend +with it. Memories have flooded my senses, thoughts and ideals that i +sometimes bury so deeply that i can't find them, even when i try. the +needs/wants of relationships, the possibilities of love, reaching out, +clutching hard, never wanting to be let go, watching your lover walk away +from you. the depression, the hurt, the anger, the pain. the asking of 'why +why why', and not ever knowing the answer. wanting to dive deep to the +depths of some mystical world and never surfacing. kicking back and +listening to the same CD over and over, searching for answers to questions +you can have always been afraid to ask. feeling your own humanity at +stake, and running the gamut of emotions, watching memories in your mind's +eye like film clips, painting pictures. wanting to feel consumed in fires +of emotions. the connects and disconnects. the disappointments, the rage +and hate. feeling afraid and alone, celebrating anniversaries alone, and +knowing (if i leave you know, you know i won't love you any less) that the +maybe's 'ifs' and 'buts' were nothing but words inserted for your own fear. +pushing back against the norm to register who and what you are. claiming +individuality for individualaties sake. to be free of constraints and of +ideals. to just BE! to just continuing finding something and seeing it in +front of you and knowing that maybe.. possibilities seem endless of the +discourse of human interaction. to take that wild plunge for the sake of +being and doing. to never be afraid to wonder or to learn. to want to push +the limits to never ending possibilities and to just thank god your alive. +you breathe, you hope and you fear, but you will never be alone. ever. you +stretch out in your images and just fondle your dreams like precious +coins, sometimes feeling like your holding back, and wondering why you +can't be like everyone else, and hoping against hope, that isn't something +wrong with you, but loving your madness. and being in love. being +possessed by that overwhelming passion, that seemingly once in a lifetime +occurance, only to be disappointed by conflicts and stupid crap. drinking +alone, getting high, tripping on acid. looking for god. looking to move to +that mountain top to find your answers. to push away the human boundaries +because of the pain. sweet glorious pain that shapes our ideals and makes +you contemplate between life and death, and you just don't know! you +i +well +can you really say its okay? +can you really nod and think its fine? how many times can you write down +your feelings without them becoming monotonous and over analyzed. why +can't we just 'be' for the sake of living and why can't we just 'do' for +the sake of 'doing'? i really wanted to try..and somehow that never seemed +good enough for you, for me, for anyone anymore +i am waiting to break free. to run against the waves, to fly towards the +sun, as high as I can nd never turn around. to grasp, kiss, fondle, +caress all those around me and show them what life is about. to gather +together and celebrate being alive. +i want to understand. +i didn't want to forget. +i didn't want to reconcile the probabilities and the notions. +i didn't want to push you away when i did. i didn't want to hold back from +fear. i didn't want to lose you when i needed you and i didn't want to +forget what it was all about. i didn't want to scream in rage or pound my +head against a wall or forget about being alive. i didn't want to lie to +you, cheat on you or lose your faith. i wanted you to understand why i do +what i do, and to believe that. i wanted to be your female counterpart to +succumb to your advances, to submit to you and dominate you. i wanted to +play games with you and just drive you insane with being coy and then walk +away with job well done. i wanted to arch my back in pleasure in the +tenderness of moments and feel your cock buried deep in me. i wanted to +close my eyes and feel you around me no matter where i was. i didn't want +it to be like this. +i don't like it being like this. i wanted to ask you answers to my +questions, and +NOT +HAVE +YOU +BLOCK +ME +OUT. +why would it be so hard for you to take my heart. you've ripped it into a +1000 pieces, like glass shards, and now it lays, exposed, waiting for +someone to pick it up, and i asked you, begged you so long ago to +understand me, to understand the inner turmoil between the selves, the +ego's and yes, even the multiple personalities. i begged you to come to me. +i remained strong for strength sake, and to not burden you with any +emotional trivialties. + +and a depth inside of me, which couldn't be reached. +which couldn't be found. +which couldn't be completed. you called me a liar. as if loving many +people was a sin. DON'T IMPOSE YOUR JUDGEMENT ON ME. i loved each and +everyone that i said i loved as completely as possible, and it didn't work +out. and i walked away learning something, giving even more to the next +lover. giving them which the previous ones denied me before. you kill a +part of me with your words, you sneer at my attempts of finding hope and +of faith and you keep killing a part of me. you didn't believe me when i +said i loved you. don't pass judgement on me. i know what i said and i +said what i meant. just because YOU won't believe makes my faith any less +of a reality. + +how many times, misses and attempts will it take to reconcile this +craziness burning deep inside of me. how many times do i have to sit and +mull over problems and curious to find the answers, and you just keep +BLOCKING +ME +OUT +pushing me towards finding no better answers or not even listening to what +i say. i begged, i humbled my self, i pushed YOU away. i played your game. +i fought and tortured myself and agonized over such TRIVIAL THINGS. + +ohhhhhhhhhhh god + +this constant torture of being pulled a 1000x different directions and +never sure which direction is going in. and never sure then what side of. +and crying. holding back the tears, not wanting to show you the more +"weak" side, because that is BLASPHEMOUS to +to +to + +lies and sweat and sex and cigarette smoke curling around my fingertips +hearing the subway running +pushing it all back deep inside, swallowing it whole + +i never asked for this, i never wanted this. +all i wanted was to be happy. not sitting up at nearly 5am yawning and +listening for hidden messages in cd's. staring at pictures of myself, +getting ready to ship to friends. + +DO YOU FEEL? + +does the pain and emotion flood you when your alone. nothing keeping you +together but memories of past relationships and tender moments? do you +recognize your strengths and weaknesses inside you? or are you truly a +cold person.. +no +i don't believe in that. +i saw the importance. i saw what i could do to you. i saw myself making +you complete. +and if you tell me it was all for nothing. +I WILL KNOW YOU LIE. +even to yourself. +I wouldn't have told you i loved you. you wouldn't have come for me if you +didn't feel the depth. + +don't condemn me +please +don't +make +me +feel +like + + +i can't do this alone. + +will i be relentless now that i can't have you? +no word. +nothing. +silence fills the air. +i look for you everywhere i go +and i can't find you +WHY WHY WHY +no playing with fire. i warned you. you will get burned. +and now its too late for to + +honest words +the truth enslaved in emotions as we keep playing these mind fuck games +sneering +addicting +consume me +make me whole +in this space +i have gone to far to go back +i keep reaching for you +in my mind +with my body +that was heaven that was to me +i keep believing + +silence of the night +glaring lights around me +intoxicated +and i can't shake this +not now..not yet.. +old passions stirring old feelings re-aquainting each other + +silence is so peaceful +breakdown of minds +i believe in you +i have faith +just don't let me go +its not time yet... + + + +Simunye Design: New Innovations for a new world +http://www.simunye.com + +Into the sea of waking dreams, I follow without pride +Nothing stands between us here & I won't be denied + -"Possession" Sarah McLachlan + + +- Simunye + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0395.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0395.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4f4a11b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0395.txt @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the daily routine + ----------------- + + + +where is my money? +what money? +there was 100$ in my purse. +I don't know. +where the fuck is my money? +fuck you I didn't take your money. +you are always taking my money, i cant afford this. +i didn't take your fucking money fuck you. +fuck you you little bastard. give me my money. +fuck you i am getting tired of being accused of stealing your money. +i have caught you breaking into my car to get my purse. +fuck you i didn't take it. +I cant afford this shit, i need that money for groceries and bills and shit. +fuck you you are always accusing me. +I am tired of supporting your fucking habit. +whatever. +this is bullshit. I need that fucking money. +go fuck yourself. +you steal shit around the house , do drugs, destroy shit what am i supposed + to do? +i don't care. just get out of my face. +you little bastard where is my money? +fuck you. + + + +fuck you. +fuck you. +give me my money. +I don't have your fucking money. + + + + + +why don't you just get the fuck out? +fuck you I will. +fine you can go steal from someone else. someone else can support your + drug habit. +want to go live with your dad? I will fuckin send you there +fuck you and dad. +pack your shit +dad doesn't give a fuck. go fuck yourself i am not going there. + + + + + + +I am just gonna disappear, laters. + + + + + + + + +fuck you. +fuck you too. +fuck off stupid whore. +break something else that's what makes you happy. +fuck you dumb bitch. + + + +better than any alarm. + + shaedow + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0396.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0396.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6705349a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0396.txt @@ -0,0 +1,129 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Spring Cleaning + --------------- + + ...and he shut his eyes from the sunlight blaring through the blinds, + reaching for his pillow that somehow ended up between his legs in mid-sleep + again. Covering his head, he turned over, facing the dimer half of the + bedroom. There was so much work to be done. The ever-failing alarm clock + read 12:17. It beeped with just enough volume to not fully wake him and, at + the same time, somehow keep him aware that he shouldn't be sleeping anymore. + He had set it to 8:00 the night before. It was almost as loud as the + sunlight now, but he didn't shut it off. Not yet. He waited for the + cobwebs to clear, making sure not to fall back asleep. 12:34 now. As good + a time as any. + + He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gritting his teeth as his + back reminded him to never, ever swing his legs over the side of the bed + like that. Wincing and stretching, he stood up. Busy day, busy day, he + said to himself. There's much to be done. + + There was his cat preening himself on the floor. What I wouldn't give + to be you, he thought. For just a moment, he reflected back on the + innocence of childhood. Just for a moment. Then he remembered. There were + things to do. + + Stepping over the cat, he threw on his bathrobe and made his way + downstairs. There were cold pancakes sitting on top of the microwave. A + piece of paper that was on the refrigerator the night before had fallen to + the kitchen floor. There was the cat again, walking through. He started to + search for something to eat, but realized he didn't have enough time. He + glanced at the clock again. 12:51. Groaning, chiding himself for + oversleeping, he walked towards the bathroom, passing his parents' bedroom + on the way. There was his mother, asleep, with the cat curled up next to + her. + + Someone had forgotten to flush the toilet, so he remembered for them. + He threw aside the shower curtain with a bit too much strength, fueled by + his frustration that he had wasted so much time already. No time for a + shower, he realized. No. There were things to be done. He pulled the + curtain back over the tub and stood there, looking at himself in the mirror. + + I should really shave, he figured. I would.. I would, if I had time. + And this hair. This fucking hair! There's too much of it, and it's so god + damned annoying. I'd get it cut. I would, if I had time. If I could, I'd + even comb it instead of pulling it back into a ponytail. If only I had + enough time. + + Cursing to himself, he walked back upstairs, taking a quick glance + around his room. A pile of dirty clothes sat in the corner, waiting for + somebody to take them down to the basement and wash them. His bed was as + unkempt as his hair, waiting for somebody to straighten it out. His bureau + was piled with clean clothes, waiting for somebody to put them away. There + was the computer, sitting against the far wall, waiting for somebody to put + it out of its misery. And there was the television, looking as good as new, + waiting for somebody to use it. The guitar, waiting to be tuned. The + books, waiting to be shelved. The rug, waiting to be vacuumed. The ants, + waiting to be saved. The bottles waiting to be recycled and the ashtrays + waiting to be emptied and the cat waiting.. + + The cat? Damn it, that fucked up cat. "Can't you sit still?" he + asked the cat, realizing it was the first time he had spoken out loud since + he woke up, and also realizing that the cat didn't have anything to do. + "Shit, if I didn't have anything to do," he admitted, "I'd probably wander + around the house, too." + + The cat looked up at him, then, cocking his head sideways. He licked + a paw and swiped it across his face, never breaking the stare. + + "What?" the boy said out loud. "What are you looking at?" + + The cat just stared, and the boy sat down on his bed. He laughed at + himself, almost. I'm sitting here talking to a cat, he thought, and I have + so much work to do. + + Without looking away, the cat jumped up on the bed with him, nuzzling + his face against the boy's. + + "You want to go out, don't you?" + + The cat just stared. + + "Are you hungry?" + + No reaction. + + "I don't know what you're trying to tell me!" he blurted. "There's + work to be done and I don't have much time!" + + And with that, the cat broke the stare and trotted off downstairs, with + the grace of one who is finished and waiting. Within moments, he could hear + the cat digging through the litterbox. + + The boy laughed, then, and didn't stop for a long time. He walked + over to the pile of dirty clothes and peed on them. He peed on his bed and + bureau, and he peed on the computer. He peed on his television, his guitar, + his books, the rug, the ants, the bottles, and the ashtrays. He peed on + everything he could, until his bladder had exhausted itself. + + And then he found a dry spot on the rug and curled up on it, still + laughing. He licked his hand, then, and swiped it across his face. + Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I'll get up the nerve, but today I'm + finished. Finished and waiting, gracefully. + + It was 2:26. + + + by Styx + dropdead@mindspring.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0397.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0397.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..16c21e54 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0397.txt @@ -0,0 +1,117 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Ever Have One Of Those Mornings? + -------------------------------- + +11-SEP-97 + +Ever have one of those mornings? + +Yesterday, I was able to make my 50 mile commute to work in just over an +hour. I normally have to leave around 7:00 AM so that I can beat the +worst of the rush hour traffic. + +Today I leave at 7:30, I figure it won't make that much of a difference. +Boy was I wrong. I usually listen to a scanner when I drive so that I get +the best and most up to date traffic reports. Very handy, and better than +any broadcast radio station for timeliness. Not really related to the +story, but it is interesting to know. + +This took place in 303, so I may as well tell you the best frequency to +listen to. The Denver branch of Metro Traffic uses the frequency 450.6875 +with a standard offset, and a pl of 100.0. + +I'm driving in and I hear that traffic is really fucked, from 120th all +the way to the tech center. Great! I think to myself. I try to take an +alternate route, which would normally work ok. I get about half way to +work on the alternate route when I hear over the scanner "7 car pile up at +I-225 and I-70." This kind of accident will pretty much shut the freeway +down. And it happened right where I need to go. Fuck. That is what I +meant by "Did you ever have one of those mornings?" + +Anyway, now that the mood for what I really wanted to write about is set, +off we go. + +People in Denver just do not know how to fucking drive, and are some of +the rudest drivers I have ever encountered. Never mind that there was a +gang fight, and car-jacking on the highway at 6th and Sheridan. Just plain +everyday ordinary people, whom, if you were to meet them outside of a car, +you would probably like. + +Let me give you some examples of the things that happen everyday on the +streets that really make me want to kill. + +I am just driving around town, not on the freeways, on a street that the +speed limit is 35 MPH. A not unreasonable speed limit, considering that +it is a residential area, and there is a chance that some rug-rats might be +dashing into the street in front of cars. + +Then this asshole, who is driving a nice car, wearing a suit. Normally +someone who you would consider to be fairly respectable, comes tearing up +the street going between 40 and 50 MPH. A hazard to say the least. What +is really irritating about this shit head, is he is so arrogant to assume +that his time is *SO FUCKING IMPORTANT* that he has the right to drive at +whatever speed he wants, without concern for the safety of others on the +street around him. It also tends to show that he has lost all control of +his environment. A person who is in control of their environment can take +the time for the luxury of driving the speed limit, or even slower than +that. + +Now, there is one thing that frequently happens in traffic that I can kind +of understand. Slowing down to look at a traffic accident. This kind of +voyeurism is easily understandable. Anyone who has scanned cell phones or +cord-less phones understands this impulse. It still gets on my nerves. You +can gawk just as easily at 55, as at 15 or 20. Look, but don't slow down +for it. + +How hard can it be to accelerate to close to the speed limit when you are +trying to get on freeway? And how hard is it to leave a little space +between you and the car in front of you, so that someone who does know how +to merge, can actually merge. I personally think that this one of those +times at which the person blocking the merge views rudeness as a sign of +personal power. He or she thinks to themselves "HA! I was able to prevent +that person from merging, that makes me more powerful." No, it doesn't, +it is just plain rude, and at times a very good case for justifiable +homicide. The same thing happens when a good driver tries to change lanes +properly. The good driver signals and waits for an opening. Most people +will see the signal and try to block the lane change. + +The few people who will notice the turn signal and try to allow space for +the car to change lanes are rarely thanked. All it takes is a little +wave, and you have practicly made someones day. Most people see the +willingness to allow the lane change, which is just basic politeness as a +a sign of weakness. + +Well, enough of this rant for now. Keep in mind, I am not normally a big +law and order type. Do what though wilt shall be the whole of the law. I +am big on politeness for the most part. It is a pretty easy way to make +the world a better place. + +tc@dim.com + +K-Rad gr33tz and such. + +Major for being such an rf god. Dis for nagging, zak for telling dis so +he could nag. #tacd and other trashers. Apok for just being apok, the +pinnicle of rudeness with a laugh. And the rest of #303. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0398.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0398.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..48784fd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0398.txt @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + spew + ---- + + go ahead. piss me off. it doesn't matter in this world of + pig swill and monkey shit. people like to fuck with me, and + i admit that i am used to it, so i let them. and then i + end up in the state i am in now, the thought of a slick + shiny razor in my hand, and the feeling of a cool-clean + slice through the soft flesh of my arm. the rage is + building, and there is no outlet. + + i am drunk and hateful. i called up the man i love and told + him all the things that i hate about him. i want to fuck + someone and hurt them, love them and leave them. i want to + tell someone that they aren't deserving of the oxygen that + flows in their blood. i want to kick a puppy and listen to + it yelp. i want to snap the neck of a cat and see the bone + extrude from its neck. i want to break shit, fuck shit up, + steal, lie, cheat, hate. + + instead i sit here. i sit here with wine and a keyboard + (don't try this at home kids!) wanting to beat myself up for + the inconsiderate bullshit of others. i watch tears hit the + 'Q' key and i smile, thinking of the years of smeared ink + on paper that has been my life. i have hundreds of pages + full of emptiness, and i want to hurt people for what has + been done to me. + + i love you, he lied. they all do. stream of consciousness + bullshit think i am an artist crap. this is what fuck is + about, the raw hatred you feel when you see a 10 gallon + hat and shiny rattlesnake boots connected to a beautiful + woman that you want to love forever. all i want is to + kiss the eyes of someone who has never known tenderness, + make love to someone who has never known love, say a kind + word to someone who needs to hear it.. and i am rewarded + with coldness, ignorance, and stupidity. + + fuck all of them. the world isn't worth the ton of pain + on the shoulders of each one of us. hatred is my new + game, and the heat of the sun can never match the + flame of my wrath. i hate everyone now, because no one + wants to do for me what i want to do for them. martyrdom + grows tired at dawn. + + it is cold in here, where my soul lives. i beg silently + for someone to caress the worn places. fuck life, fuck + love. it doesn't exist. coldness is where it's at, + and love is game you play so that an orgasm isn't friends + with Guilt. you could say i am bitter, but the truth is + that i am an angel who has been torn with the whip of + hatred one time too often. + + i don't know what all of this means. all i know is that + in the face of my ex-lovers i see the grim reaper, and + that in the mirror all i can find is a worn tiredness + that doesn't belong in the eyes of a 22 year old woman. + i want someone to love my complexity, find beauty in + my pain. but they all want to eradicate the infection, + and i sit here alone, alone, forever alone, and i just + want to hurt them all. + + tears find a home in my soul. + + fuck you. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0399.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0399.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a463ef54 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0399.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Four Years + ---------- + +Its been a long time since Ive written anything down of this nature, I +guess the time has come to let it flow. + +Four years... + +Four years of being numb. +Four years of hatred, depression, solitude, emptyness, and aggression. +Bottled and some how waiting in hopes that some day it will all 'taste +better'. + +Watching myself rot before my own eyes has not been an easy task. Every +time an ounce of emotion threatens to surface I force my self to swallow +it down back into the bottle. + +I've grown use to the pain where the bottle lies in the pitt of my stomache. +I've learned how to harness its power. The jagged edges that cut me day in +and day out are the only thing that lets me know Im still alive. + +I sit in a dark and hatefilled world that I damned myself too for a long +time to come. My brain screams out for information to fill the void where +emotions should lie. 'Knowing' is my only strength, ignorance my pitfall. + + "Through insanity I will reach clarity in myself" + +The reason I write this file is not for pity, attention, or a cry for help. +Im simply beyond it. I write this in hopes that maybe some one out there +will read it before getting to the same mental/emotional state. + +Thier are many paths you have to take to get to this state of your own +hell. And the main highway that will take you there is by not expressing +the way you feel. The media, educational system, law enforcement agencies, +parents, and some friends will all tell you its wrong to show weakness or +emotions. And the minute you do the will kick you for it. But if you dont +your kicking yourself. + +Maybe a significant other[s] screwed you over. Maybe your parents failed +you some how by not being there for half your life or not 'understanding' +the way you think and feel. Some teacher might of told you that you would +never amount to anything. A friend might of stabbed you in the back over +and over again. Hell maybe some idiot kicked your ass in school for just +being you. You dont have to sit there and keep it all bottled up inside, +dooming yourself to end up on a tower with a high powered rifle or in a +room with a razor blade. + +Get up go outside and scream at the top of your lungs. Find a punching +bag/wall/the person who kicked your ass, and let it all fly out. Go up to +the person that hurt you and tell em off. Get a job and rub it in your +teachers face that your making more a year then she/he is. Go beige box +your nieghbors pad and call the psychic hotline just to talk to someone +if you have to. JUST BRAKE SHIT! Because if you dont your going to end up +alone, pissed, and confused. After awhile you wont even know how you got +that way. + +The last couple of weeks has been hell. I finally started to let the bottle +drain. I still have a long way to go before Ill be back to who I was. Its +sorta scary to know I let myself slip this way, and that I dont know who +I am anymore. Maybe Im scared of what I'll find. What I do know is I'll +never let a person or event hurt me for more then that moment in time. + +Untill then I have my solitude, depression, and ignorance to get me by... +at least I know where Im at. Do you? + + "Its never hard, its never easy, it just is..." + +-pill + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0400.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0400.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..54d3fa4c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0400.txt @@ -0,0 +1,238 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Four Zero Zero + -------------- + + Seems like this 100th file came much quicker than the last. +Time has certainly flown by in the real world. At any given point +in time, it seems as though you can measure how much change there is +in your life. This figure is based off your perception of the change, +coupled with what you remember to have changed. Of course, this isn't +accurate by any means, but accuracy is nothing, perception is everything. + + I received a file submission the other day that wasn't completed +according to the author. I personally think it could have been released +as is, but she felt differently. One thing that stood out about this +article was the intense writing style, coupled with the fact that she +has been reading the zine for most of its life. As her file points out, +she knows the 'old' me, the more bitter and outspoken me. The me that +wasn't afraid to tell people how I felt. That file made me think quite +a bit about the zine and where it is today. + That author writes "even fuck has taken on a new face. once +a critic of Life itself, is now but a medium of rants and raves. few +palpable pieces stay true to the past. the unspoken ideal. the +intellectual ramblings of fucked up souls who had more to criticize than +religion and relationships. whatever happened to those?" + Have things changed that much? Have we the writers moved on to take +on new perspectives? Or have we maybe refined our writing style aiming +to be more verbose and try to make every word count? I don't know. I do +know that I will be re-reading some of the early issues in an attempt +to find out what was lost. Has the style changed while leaving the +message behind? Or have we lost some of the message? It is obvious +that some things have changed as new writers join the zine and others +move on. Since it has been over two years since I have been in college, +more of the writers I find seem to be in the working world rather than +school. Has that made a significant difference? + I have been on a steady downward spiral myself. Going from +48 to 29 to 19 to 9 files written out of each 100. Moving from 48% +to 9% is a significant change, and a very likely reason behind the +perception of change. Sitting on this drive are about fifteen +unfinished files, some sitting there from over a year ago. Beyond that +are twenty files with material that could easily be used for other +files. I have seven unfinished pieces by Voyager, while Demonika sits +on sixteen unreleased files. We are all very passionate about certain +things, and all like to express our views. So why do they sit there +uncompleted? Who knows. + The material is there, the time isn't. One thing all writers +like to see is feedback on their material. That is one thing that has +gotten better over the years. More people are taking the time to write +and tell how they feel about the files. Regardless of opinion, if you +have the time to respond, please do. + + Where is the world today. That is one little thing that probably +affects us all to some degree or another. Some people say things are +still going downhill, that crime is worse, pollution worse, society +as a whole worse. Others can counter those claims with statistics to +show that crime is actually going down, that the rate of increase for +pollution decreased, and that society is getting better overall. Bah, +fuck it all. None of them will be a real concern in my lifetime, at +least not in the long run. + The internet is the new global means for communication. Every +day thousands of people flock to the net to jump on the great hype. +As they do, they bring new cultures, new stories, and new experiences +with them. Unfortunately they also come with sheer stupidity and annoyance. +Like before, certain online services seem to cater to these morons, but +they can be found on just about any service. Should the veterans of the +net stop to help them? I don't think so. Experience tells me that it is +a waste of time. In less than six months, my mother has gone from being +scared of computers, to owning a new Pentium Pro, uses dialup ISDN to +connect to one of her two ISPs, and effectively uses the web to access +information. No offense to her, but if she can do it, anyone can. + The battle for online privacy continues. Congress still wants +to backdoor all forms of strong encryption, make it possible for various +federal agencies to quickly tap any phone line with little or no +authorization, as well as censor the content of sites to a certain degree. +What the fuck? The supreme court ruled against the Communications +Decency Act.. it was unconstitutional. The DEA is currently filing suit +against the CIA and NSA attempting to make it illegal for either agency +to tap *any* phone, because both agencies were actively listening in +on DEA conversation. What does that tell you? That the government is still +full of clueless windbags that are interested in serving their own +delusional senses of right and wrong. These dumbfucks need to be thrown +back into society (or jail), not be allowed to control our lives. + We still pay gobs of money in federal taxes while multi-million +dollar corporations get tax breaks, form quasi-monopolies that are overlooked +by the Justice Department, and the regular man lives in fear of a tax +audit. The regular man walks down the street in fear of being mugged or +beaten down for no other reason than the attacker's enjoyment. Fear +seems to be a common emotion these days. Instead of technology advancing +in all areas, it seems to be heading more toward convenience still. Why +haven't cars advanced as much as computers? Compare a car ten years ago +to a computer ten years ago. That is pathetic. + + The bright side of all this you ask? Increased costs for everything, +no government funding when you grow old, the chance of dying for your +wallet with no cash in it, the chance of dealing with the million types +of fraud that can cause your life to be hell. If you're really lucky, +you might get to enjoy a fucking barbecue with your family or friends +on a sunday. Yay. + What does that mean? Enjoy any aspect of your life when you can. +If you see a chance to do something you MIGHT enjoy, just fucking do it. +Deal with the consequences later. Temporarily forget about ethics or +morals, there is no right or wrong. There are inadequate words to describe +complex ethical situations set forth by a society that doesn't have a +clue. So try it. Whatever it is. See if you can find some kind of enjoyment +in your life. New hobby, slashing someone's tires, different sexual +preference, what ever floats your boat. + + That's it. No cheerful ending to a bleak outlook on life and society. +That's exactly what I see right now, and nothing will change it by the time +I am done with this file. As I stated above, I do like feedback, but let +me qualify that. If you reply to my files, don't tell me to "cheer up", +"be happy", "think happy thoughts", or any shit like that. That isn't me. +It never has been. I'm tired of pretending I think that way. Doom and +gloom is just fine with me. Crime and chaos is a good thing. You don't +agree? Go be part of the cause of it and you will feel differently about +it. The world is NOT happy. Crime DOES pay. Anyone who tells you differently +has their eyes closed or is trying to sell you something. + + Oh, one last thing. Your god still doesn't exist. No matter what +god or goddess it may be. To think otherwise is foolish. + + DisordeR + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + F.U.C.K. Member List + -------------------- + (the revised 'positions' are inside jokes) + + Handle Position/Title Status Written + ------------------------------------------------------------ + - DisordeR - Writer/Editor - Active - 105 - (1) + - Demonika - Evil One - Active - 29 - (2) + - Rage - Strange Person - Active - 13 - + - Voyager - Philosopher - Active - 13 - + - Capone - Sensai - Active - 12 - + - fastjack - Grunt - Active - 11 - + - DropComm - Mobster - Active - 11 - + - Pallbearer - Artist' - Active - 10 - + - se7en - Instigator - Active - 10 - + - Legion - Media Play Security - Active - 9 - + - Murc - Arthritis - Active - 7 - + - Illusionary - Warez Pup - Active - 7 - + - Simunye - Ms. Attitude - Active - 7 - + - Major - Drunk - Active - 5 - + - Malloc - Evil - Active - 5 - + - Wednesday - MoM - Active - 5 - + - L. Humongous - Writer - Active - 4 - + - SkinFlower - Chix0r - Active - 4 - + - Tersian - 9to5 - Active - 4 - + - Anarchon - Anarchist - Active - 3 - + - Brooklyn - Badass - Active - 3 - + - Death - Writer - Active - 3 - + - Deadkat - Oracle - Active - 3 - + - Inverse - Writer - Active - 3 - + - K2 - TNo Bitch - Active - 3 - + - Porno Funk - Writer - Active - 3 - + - Red Baron - Writer - Active - 3 - + - SickBoy - Writer - Active - 3 - + - Spyder - Cynic - Active - 3 - (3) + - Anarchy-X - Writer - Active - 2 - + - Bluerose - Stalker - Active - 2 - + - GNN - uXu Defector - Active - 2 - + - Murmur - DTO Flunkie - Active - 2 - + - Orestes - Black Sheep - Active - 2 - + - Psycho - Writer - Active - 2 - + - Styx - Writer - Active - 2 - + - T. Soul - Writer - Active - 2 - + - Unbidden - Idiot - Active - 2 - + - zens - Biznatch - Active - 2 - + - Ambrose - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Apokolyps - Antichrist - Active - 1 - + - C. Stolle - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Chris - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Edchrist - Anger - Active - 1 - + - El_jefe - Booze Hound - Active - 1 - + - Flood - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Hackem Siegh - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Mogel - FUCK Hoe - Active - 1 - + - Pill - Booze Brother - Active - 1 - + - Pluto - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Rabies - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Shaedow - Taste Tester - Active - 1 - + - Slayer - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Telecon - Honorary Fed - Active - 1 - + - yt - Writer - Active - 1 - + - Overdriver - Writer - Inactive - 6 - + - Acid Warlock - Writer - Inactive - 4 - + - Max Headroom - Writer - Inactive - 3 - + - Morpheus - Writer - Inactive - 3 - + - Disk Jockey - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Distortion - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Loki - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - PsI - Writer - Inactive - 2 - + - Doc. Z - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Far Reaches - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Heather Maple- Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Joeseattle - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Lettus B - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Nancy Dunlap - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Night Hawk - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Rice - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Shockwave - Chocolate - Inactive - 1 - + - Uncle Elvis - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Zach D. - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + - Zen - Stud - Inactive - 1 - + - Zippy - Writer - Inactive - 1 - + ------------------------------------------------------------ + ( 7 files have been submitted anonymously ) + ( 9 files are reprints from other sources ) + ( 2 files were contributed by all writers ) + (Files written by multiple author are credited to largest contributor.) + +(1) - Other handles: Damanstian, Dam +(2) - Other handles: Palpable Obscure +(3) - Other handles: Rio + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0401.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0401.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ec3e095c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0401.txt @@ -0,0 +1,255 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + just because + ------------ + +for the hundredth time today i had to walk a "system admin" through +installing components on his machine. for the hundredth time today i +have had to explain, albeit patiently, that the internet is not down +and that the person was dialing their own phone number. + +i had to remind yet another person that email is not to be used for +transferring large files. i am sick of people customers emailing me asking +me for help, when i am at home. + +i am burnt out. +i am emotionally tired. + +getting up for work is getting to be impossible. I want nothing more than +to snuggle deep under my comforter and not move. i want to re-read +everything that i own, and spend inane amounts of money on books and just +read. + +i want to paint. + +i want to shrug all my responsibilities and just paint. i have NEVER told +anyone of this but i want to go to art school. i know that i will be at +best, okay, but its something i want to do. + +i want to create. + +i want to sculpt, get messy and relax. + +i want to be free. + +nothing is -mine-. This realization has come to me as of fairly recently. + +i have always slept in someone else's bed, lived with +friends/lovers/parents. used their dishes, watched their television, +listened to their problems. nothing speaks of me. i always felt like a +guest. even now, in the house i share, the only thing that speaks of "me" +is the plaid trunk in the living room, and the diet coke in the fridge. I +am still ruled by my parents 2500 miles away, who buy guilt trips now that +my brother is out here in California for college. + +my responsibilities have always been to pay rent, council +friends/parents/lovers, run errands, take care of them, shop for them, do +their laundry and clean their house. it was my 'responsibility' because i +lived there. + +i want to take care of 'me' and no one else. + +i have never been 'free'. + +i want to garden. + +i have been admitting that as of late, this gardening urge. when I was a +small child, we had a 'garden' that ran the length of the house in the +backyard. and i loved to play in the mud. loved to watch the flowers i +planted grow, watching the them bloom. it was so beautiful. when se7en and +i lived together, it was always an argument when i bought wild flowers. +"You said you hated flowers." how very wrong he was. + +i don't want to be responsible for anyone's problems. i don't want to be +responsible for someone getting to work on time, for going to appointments, +for paying their bills. + +i don't want to be responsible for keeping them from loneliness or for +entertaining them. + +i know what i do want. + +i want someone to appreciate me for me. To brush my hair after I take a +bath. To play chess with me. To run naked under the moon. I want someone I +can read to, who will surprise me "just because". + +i am tired of being aggressive. i am tired of being the one who is the +cold hearted bitch. i am tired of always leading the way. + +i want someone to kiss me first. + +i want to be courted. i want to be appreciated and i want to be loved. + +for me. + +i hate California. + +i hate the constant sunshine. the constant shallowness of just about +everyone i have met. i hate the weather and i hate where i live. i spend +most of my time after work locked up in my room. my few attempts at +getting a social life are still brewing slowly. but. its not the same. + +i miss being back east. +i miss the weather changing. +i miss snow. +i miss the smell of the crispness of the air when it was changing weather. +i miss how strong i felt when spring came around, as if i was being reborn. + +when i came to California in may, everyone was told something different. +maybe some day, i will tell the true story, but all you need to know is i +had to get out. the chance was offered, so i took it. i had to get out of +Michigan, and the oppressiveness and the death that surrounded me there. + +here in California! dreams came true. mine became a nightmare. i was +alone, scared, and afraid. 'just come home' danny said. 'i can't!' i +cried. i can't admit failure to you, to everyone, especially to me. + +you can never escape your problems. things here were, at best, a flop. i +smiled and said 'its okay, im fine'. when they weren't. no one knew the +intense loneliness, the almost weekly crying, i never cracked in public. + +i couldn't crack. + +sometimes i get so alone, that the only one worth talking to is me. how +could i possibly explain my situation to someone, and have them laugh in +my face. it wasn't worth the humiliation. + +no matter how much i hate it here, i won't regret the move. the only +reason that i will not regret is because of what i have learned since i +have been here. + +i am responsible for no one but me. +i don't have to do anything i don't want to. +i am not a whore. i am a person with feelings/desires/dreams who has every +right to demand to have those things fulfilled. +i am not someone whose only good for 'computers and sex'. +i am a not as cynical as i thought i was. +my god, how innocent i am. i laugh when i think about it. street smart, +maybe, but innocent all the same. +how naive i can be with my big mouth. + +i am tired of saying 'should be' instead of saying 'could be'. + +i am making plans once again. +i am moving. +away from California i will fly. no more San Francisco for me. the people +here are too hard, too shallow, too materialistic. it is reflected +everywhere. i am tired of running for something that isn't me anymore. + +i don't belong here. +i don't know where i belong, but it is not here. +i want to be somewhere that fits me. maybe Boston. maybe new york. maybe +Atlanta. who knows. +anywhere but here. + +i am tired of pretending. +i am tired of pretending everything is okay. + +its not okay. + +i am 25. +THIS IS THE ONLY LIFE I HAVE! + +i have been thinking about this for awhile. letting close friends know. +i want to move back east. +i want to have my OWN apartment. +i want messy towels on the floor, dishes piled up, and i can't complain +about it to no one because its MY responsibility. +i want to shut off my goddamn computer and live. +i want to go on a real date with someone who could careless about my past. +i want to be suprised with flowers. +i want to kiss someone at my front door and then walk inside alone. +i want someone who will call me just because they missed talking to me. +i don't want to deal with email, IRC or anything remotely having to do with +computers. +i want someone to play chess with. to go to plays/operas with. i want +someone to go to concerts and to discuss THINGS with. +i want someone to seduce ME +to talk about our interests, to both love the same things. i want someone +to tell me i am beautiful. + +just because. + +i want to look at someone and say 'i love you' and mean it. REALLY MEAN IT. +i don't want to be waylaid into guilt trips with the 'no one has loved me +like you' crap. +i am so sick of that. +se7en did it, danny did it. +michael did it. + +fuck you guys. +not one of you knew crap about me. and never took the time to ask. + +i bet not one of them could guess my favorite book, movie or song. +what my favorite meal was, or what kind of perfume i wore. + +I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER AND I WILL NOT TAKE CARE OF YOU! + +i refuse to be in destructive relationships because 'you love me' shit. +i am no longer giving my love away freely. now it has to be earned. and if +i die alone with nine cats, then so be it. i am not longer letting my +priorities slide because someone "could" be the right man. and if he is not, +i will not try and change him, I will not try and "work on him" i will +just let it go. + + +i refuse to be be guilt-tripped into staying with/sleeping with anyone +because of 'your feelings'. Aren't my feelings fucking important? Yes, +they are! + +no more sister, nope, not this chick. +no more. + +i have decided to go celibate. no more half assed romances, no more blind +dates. no more lust ridden affairs, where after you fuck you look at the +person and go "why the fuck did i just do that for?". no more hanging my +heart on my sleeve and looking to make it work. no more phone sexing ex's +because of reminicising old memories. + +i am cutting you all off. + +i have always had dreams. i have always let my dreams slide because i +didn't think they would fit into real life. and that was my biggest +mistake ever. +and i will not pay for it any longer. i will not continue to hurt myself +or deny myself anymore. + +i want peace. + +so i am making plans again. i am going someplace that *i* want to go to. +looking at schools that *i* want to go to. getting a job because it +*suits* me instead of being saddled at an ISP doing tech support. and i +won't be yelling at customers all day because i am bored, and i am tired. +and looking out my window at the gridlock of cars coming off the bay +bridge is MUCH more entertaining then talking about network topography. + + +i want to slack back into my dreams. +i want to reach for my goals. +for me. +just because i can. + + +- Simunye + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0402.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0402.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9710bcca --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0402.txt @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Few Things That Annoy Ruth + ---------------------------- + +I'm a fucking Nut. Yeah I think that about sums it up. I'm a bloody +lunatic. I'm psychotic. I'm strange. I'm weird. Why? Because if you ask +me, I'm the most mentally balanced person you'll probably ever meet. Ask +anyone who knows me. They'll tell you I'm annoying as shit most the time, +completely immature, and never fucking serious. Know what I think about +that? Not a damn thing. So what? + My question is, what the fuck is wrong with the world. I see +people running around all day long, moping, complaining, whining, and just +plain hating life. "oooohhh I am so full of angst!" What the fuck is the +problem here? Lets look a few things. In fact, let start with everyone's +personal favorite, Depression! + I love depression. It's such a wonderful way to relax. I'm +clinically diagnosed as a Manic depressive. Know what that means? It +means my shrink is an idiot. Good thing I was going to him for free. +College is neat that way. Either way, don't try to tell me I don't know +what it is then, about every 3 months I spend 2-3 days laying on my bed +staring at the walls without the energy to get up. My friends get +worried, my girl gets frantic, and my rat kept me company. The funny +thing is, I enjoy it. Actually, strike that, I love it. No, it's not the +attention. To be honest, that really gets on my nerves. Most the time I +just want to be left alone. It's the silence. When it happens I actually +get some peace and quiet in this head of mine. I can just lay there, near +comatose, and not think of anything. Nothing at all. It's all empty. +It's actually beautiful. I relax and lay there for a while and when I'm +done I get up and I feel refreshed. But then again I guess that's +physical depression, not mental depression. Whatever it is. It's pretty +nice. My question for the depressed masses is "if you're so fucking +depressed, why the fuck don't you at least attempt to enjoy the +depression! It does wonders for your soul!" yeah it's kind of an oxymoron, +"happy depression," but at least it's more fun. + Hrm... what's next? Oh yes... persecution. Everyone I know is +getting persecuted for something. They hate me because I'm a "insert word +here." What is going on in this world that suddenly we all hate each +other? Know what I think? I don't think anything has changed. People +have hated each other ever since some monkey picked up a tree branch and +beat the shit out of another for a piece of girl monkey ass. The simple +fact of the matter is that now our government gives perks and prizes to +anyone who says they've been dicked with by someone else. So now it's +cool to be hated. Oh boy. That's some logic for you... I've never seen +so many people so happy and proud of the fact that someone disliked them +that they would tell everyone they met all about it. "no really Dave, I +didn't get that promotion because I'm a black female jew lesbian. I think +I'm going to sue." No really... I'm honestly sure that's it. Maybe you just +aren't qualified. Or maybe that really is it. But if it is, do you wanna +work for that asshole that didn't hire you anyway? I look at that shit +and think, if I were in that position I'd have to tell Dave. "You know +Dave, that guy really fucked up... I would've given his wife the best piece +of kosher chocolate pussy she's ever had and he could've fucking watched." +But then again, I'm strange that way. + That's just a few of my thoughts. When I bring this shit up, a +lot of people tell me. "you don't know what your talking about." "You +don't know how things really are." "You can't laugh at everything." And +"Life's not all fun and games." Well I got one thing to say about that. +Fuck that shit. I know what's out there... I've seen my share of shit and +filth and all in all crappy things. I've been there. I've also been else +where. But fuck it all if you can't laugh at it. Life is too short not +to have a good time. What have we got? An average of 85 years or so? +For those of you who are reading this, probably significantly less. +You'll probably get enough radiation from that monitor in your face to fry +your brain by 60. But so what. At least you'll surf enough porn to keep +you busy in the afterlife. Whatever time you have here is so limited +you had better fucking enjoy it, because let me tell you something. When you +die. There's no guarantees. Religion is stupid. It's empty promises. +No one knows what's going to happen. You either go someone else when you +die, or you don't. if you don't, then every last one of you that spent all +your time moping around, complaining and hating the whole thing are +screwed. You got your one chance and you blew it. You didn't make it fun. +If we do get lucky and there is an afterlife (as fucking improbable as it +seems) you may get screwed again. My personal opinion is when I die I'm +going to end up in an eternal orgy with so many naked chicks my eyes are +going to pop out. But then again, I'm hoping, not trusting in it. So +fucking smile, have a nice day, and get one with your god damn life. +Enjoy yourself and quit crying. + +------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Sorry about that folks. I was in the mood to rant. Maybe that will make +some sense to one of you, though i can't say it made too much sense to me. + +Wraith + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0403.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0403.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8a4d8c90 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0403.txt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + joy + --- + + a slick sly motherfucker looks me up and down, says + 'hey baby, lookin good' and i feel like a ham on a + hook in Joe Schmoe's butcher shop. his leer yawns + like a chasm, and disgust twists in the pit of my + gut. whip me, hurt me, make me bleed. that's all i + am good for. i look down at my scuffed black boots, + the hole in the knee of my leggings, the worn flannel, + (hey baby, looking homeless) and wonder how far i have + to go to look unlovable and totally leavable. + + i type inanely (make install) and crawl around on the + floor (which patch panel does this fucking thing + plug into?) and growl at the insane howl of my pager + (BOGUS! Build failed!). do this, do that, can i + lick your boots mister, and would you like that in + perl or /bin/sh? i picture pools of blood forming + in the cracks between the keys of my keyboard. + + i think i am having a nervous breakdown. + + (where is your entourage?) she asked me while she + poured my grande' non-fat latte. yeah, my fucking + entourage, only she doesn't know that i have + two of them. i glance over my shoulder and there + is no one there, but i can feel them piled up + on my back like a demon orgy out of a Stephen + King novel. (they are on vacation) and i smile + and sip my latte, but a tear gathers in the + corner of my eye. + + dark grey days are my style. a day like today + makes me feel like my soul is in tune with the + weather, and i want to thank god for noticing + me. (please sir, can i have some more?) + + i am having a nervous breakdown. + + having a nervous breakdown #!/bin/sh patch panel + annexes coffee bills too much too soon too young + glowing angel want to go to him please sir can + i have some more and while you are at it can you + make more feel more worthless cause i think i + slipped and had self esteem for a second there + and i want to sleep for days in a cool room + break shit while people who do not love me + point and laugh the world is spinning and dear + god how i love this shit + + yeah. a nervous breakdown. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0404.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0404.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2b6bea84 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0404.txt @@ -0,0 +1,135 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + scene. lame. 1997. + ------------------ + + If you have read past issues, you have probably noticed a good +amount of hacker references in various files, as well as files dedicated +to hacker thinking. The obvious conclusion that can be derived is that +some of the writers are hackers of some sort. For a few of us, it started +out as a hobby and moved to a career. Even working in the information +security field, we keep our ties to the hacker community for various +reasons. For friends, trading information, keeping apprised of recent +happenings, or just for the feeling of comraderie. That's all beside +the point. + I wrote about the scene a few years back in file #140, and +told my thoughts on what it was like. So here is another file about +the same 'scene', about two years later. As with all societies, some +things change. Overall feelings, attitudes, mindsets, actions, reasons, +justifications.. they are all subject to change. One of the major +differences you will notice is the transition from BBSs to the +Internet. This move to an international network has opened up new +worlds for hackers everywhere. Not only do they have new stomping +grounds, but new ways to share information. FTP sites with exploits +and information on hacking, Web sites with links to more information, +mail lists for the exchange of new methods to hack. + + Despite this incredible wealth of information, this freedom +to a vast region of knowledge, the hackers of today continue to be +fucking morons. Of course, there is a small percentage out there that +are exempt from this flamerant. On the downside, that number is +growing smaller and smaller every day. + You hear less and less about hackers getting busted, and more +and more about warez kids and AOL chimps getting popped for lame shit. +Carding AOL accounts, running warez sites off government systems, +or other foolish things. A few articles deal with people who were +hacking for the pure thrill of it, but they seem to be scarce. + + Many of the bigger names out there have a single claim to fame +right now, and that is a decent web page. There are a handful of +decent web pages that make information available, and a few thousand +that link to them. Other pages link to the pages that link to the +good sites, while more sites link to those that link.... you get +the picture. It took over one hour to find a simple script that exploits +a flaw in the SunOS RPC program, written over five years ago. I finally +found it on an FTP site out there. Not a single web page had this +simple script. These 'hackers' seem to care more about design and +reputation than sharing of information. + As the years past have been, today is riddled with hacker wars, +petty bickering, the desire to "one up" others, or to be counter productive +in some way. My hopes and wishes for a somewhat unified scene have long +since vanished. The desire to be in a group must be strong; small temporary +alliances with people you half trust, or in some cases are good friends +with. Sometimes steady collaboration between these groups, projects of +mutual interest. The amount of good groups out there can probably be counted +on two hands. + + I keep myself logged into IRC 24/7 these days, simply because +I maintain a dedicated connection. My script logs messages so that friends +can reach me outside of email. I am not active more than an hour a day +typically, and while I am at my computer I flip over frequently to check +for certain people on. Despite that, some losers insist that I live on +IRC even though I usually have a few pages of "are you there?" messages. +Wannabe hackers from around the world message me for help. Some don't +get a response and flood me for not helping them, oblivious to the +possibility of me being away from keyboard. + I have pages and pages of completely stupid things people have +asked me on IRC. Stuff that goes to new levels of stupidity and further +annoy me. I can't comprehend how these clueless fucks fancy themselves +hackers when they can't use a simple search engine to find the answers +to their basic questions. Can't begin to understand how they want to +become hackers without having basic common sense. There has always been +a debate as to whether or not more experienced hackers should help +the newer folks. I used to think it was worth my time to help people +like them, but as time passes I just get more fed up with their inane +shit. + + Why did I ever feel a responsibility for helping anyone? +Because it is better than the clueless newbies trying to help. You have +media whores like Carolyn Meinel trying to teach people to hack, writing +guides to hacking full of fuckups. Telling these people what to do, but +not giving them enough information to adequately protect themselves. +People like her want to make money off the hacker scene, not help it. +Don't believe me? I can show you her own email that says exactly that, +that time is money and she will only put a minimum amount of effort +into it. Lame whore. You get all this media attention, and then screw +the pooch and turn it into bad press. Good job. + To the few good hackers remaining out there.. the really good +ones. Keep it up. Very few people may know about you and what you do, +or maybe you are so secretive no one knows. Doesn't matter, keep up +what you are doing. Use your skills for a good purpose. Keep shutting +down spammers, keep showing up supposed security experts who barely +have a clue. While you continue this, stay hidden. Don't come out +of your various levels of secrecy, you will only find a world of wannabe +hackers that can't even gather information about a system, let alone +hack it. + + And for you lamers who will try to call me elitist because of +this rant, fuck off. I didn't place myself anywhere in the file. I don't +give a shit what you think of me. I know I am better than a lot, and +not even halfway to the level some are. Fuck spending my time helping +the new lamers, I am going to go back to reading and trying to learn +from the best. Longer idle times on IRC, longer delays in answering +mail. After years of helping, it has produced nothing for me. None of +the people I have helped have surpassed me and turned to help me. Sad, +because a few of them have surpassed me. + Either way, I will continue to voice my opinion on mail lists +and other forums. If you want to help others, just make sure you aren't +passing on wrong information or you will see people like me come out +of nowhere to correct you, and I guarantee, I won't be nice about it. +If I bother to give a shit that day. + + +dis(gusted) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0405.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0405.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..830dbe31 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0405.txt @@ -0,0 +1,64 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Why Do I Hate You So Much? + -------------------------- + + "What did I do to make you hate me so much?" You've asked that +question at least 100 times. But the question isn't completely +accurate, because you know damn well what you did. What you want to +know is "Why did I react the way I did?" In other words, "Why do I hate +you so much?" + First of all, let me get things straight. It's not you that I hate, I +love you with all my heart. I don't hate you, I hate what you did. + You managed to hurt me more than I've ever allowed any other human +being to do. You pushed me over an edge that no one else has ever been +able to push me within a mile of. That's what I hate. + But I can't do anything to change that. I can't do anything to +anything that you've done. But you know that I'm a vindictive person. +You know that anytime that anybody does anything to hurt me or piss me +off that I strike back, that I force them to suffer twice as much as +they made me suffer. You knew that before you never said you loved me. +You knew that long before you lied. + I can't do anything to what you did, so I target the next closest +thing. I target you. Directing my hatred at what you did would +accomplish nothing, but by directing it at you, I can see the results. +I can see the pain. I can see the tears. And I like it. + I like it because now it's my turn. My turn to make you suffer as +much as you made me suffer. To hurt you like you hurt me. To make you want +to die. + The only thing that I can do to make myself feel better is to break +you. And one night it finally happened. I pulled you over the edge +with me and you finally felt all the pain and the fear and the +devastation that I felt. + Did I feel better? Yes. But I wasn't happy. Because the only thing +that made me happy was you. + Yes I wanted to wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until +your flesh turned a pale shade of blue, but I also wanted to wrap my arms +around your waist, gaze into your eyes, and tell you I loved you. + But you took that love away. And so, since I couldn't be happy, I +decided to make you miserable as well. + So now you know why I hate you so much. Now you know why I'm so +"mean" to you. It's because I love you so much. + +-InVerse + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0406.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0406.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..45189edb --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0406.txt @@ -0,0 +1,119 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Live Without Regret + ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +To live without regret, is to never live? Some think. + +My Uncle Joe would always say, when he was skiing with anyone "If you don't +fall down, you're not pushing yourself hard enough." Perhaps, that is why +I always thought that it was possible to live without regret. Because, if +you don't take some risks, you will miss out. And, missing out on something +wonderful - what could be a worse regret then that? + +"Live with no regrets. Be thankful for what you've been through. Turn +everything into a positive, that way you don't have any regrets. If you did +what you thought was the right thing to do at the time, then you should not +regret that decision." True. + +Then why is it, that I find myself regretting some things? + +What is it that I regret? Maybe you could care less, but can you think of +things you regret? If you had a chance to change that regret around, would +you? + +My only regrets are two. I know that is few but ... + +The first regret I have is the fact that I have trusted people. The first +incident that this caused regret in trusting someone, I was standing up for +them, so they would not end up getting killed, in doing so, I ruined my +chances straight across the board, on all sides, and all angles. Never to be +forgiven by some, never to be known by others, and never to be repeated by +anyone. The second incident where trusting someone has ended in regret is, +when I had been dating this guy for a couple of months. And, after talking +with him on the phone one night, he ended up coming over to my house. We +were going to go out to a movie, but, we ended up missing the time, so we +stayed at my house and hung out. His idea of hanging out was a lot different +then mine, and after that night, I was never going to trust him again, that's +for sure. When someone takes something from you, or try to force you into +something, that they had no right doing ... it changes things. + +My second regret is, how I use to treat someone I knew. I considered him a +friend, really I did. I cannot begin to tell you all the times that he +really did treat me better then any of my boyfriends ... but, what would I +say? "You're only xxxx." little did I know, that was cutting him, deep, and +straight through the heart. I never meant it to hurt him... really. I just +never could describe him, any other than him just being him. xxxx is just +xxxx. You'd have to know him... that is what I would say. And, that is how +I'd say it. We had horrible fights at times. He would try to talk with me +about this or that, why I left the 'scene' and things like that, who I once +knew, etc. Many times we would hang up on each other, and many times there +were threats made, and cross-words said. Many times, that happened which now +I wish never had. Not that I would have probably reacted differently, if he +was acting the same, I just wish I would have realized how deep I was hurting +him. He hurt me, and I hurt him. It was a natural reaction, for me, since +I've been through everything that I have been through. But, that did not +make it right. + +Heh... I'm one of those girls that have gone out repeatedly worse and worse +guys. No, Spyder, it's not just that one Midwest city, its more places then +that, where the majority of males treat females like shit. Though, a lot of +the females treat males like shit, too. I swear, it's like a social +acceptable fact that every girl is going to have many, many bad relationships. +Or maybe that's just how I look at it. + +See, I'm not one of those girls that would always go to parties during HS, +nor did I date a lot. Most people have a hard time believing this ... Nor +was I a cheerleader, or a book worm. I just was someone that everyone knew +and I knew everyone, but, no one talked. No one asked... and nothing ever +happened except hell. But that is a different story of which I am not going +to go into right now. Hell, who knows if Disorder or anyone else will even +read this? + +Anyway ... back to XXXX. He was a person, a person with real feelings, a +real life, real heart, and had been through his own share of hell. Maybe it +was because, I never felt like he was ever telling me the truth? But, no +matter that, a human being deserves to be treated like one ... though, maybe +he treated me better then a lot of my ex's, that's pretty sad. If you knew +who my ex's were, and how they treated me, compared to how XXXX treated me, +you'd probably think I am crazy... to even associate with any of them. + +Regrets are something that cling to you, from the moment after the action, +and never really leave you ... they might not surface a lot, but when they +do, they hit you like a load of bricks and make you feel lower then dirt. + +What I would love to see happen is these regrets fly away, and never have to +worry about watching my back, or having hurt XXXX... or if XXXX and I will +ever be friends, or maybe we are no good for each other? Only if things +would have been different... and all the what ifs float being making their +way through this head of mine, and I need to push them out, because if I +lived my entire life thinking 'what if' I would never 'be'. + +So, what is the point of this? Learn how to make decisions, by thinking +and looking and realizing that: "Every action has a greater or equal +re-action." and Live Without Regret. + + +-Kamria + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0407.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0407.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..93b24411 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0407.txt @@ -0,0 +1,199 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + self pity + --------- + +i am getting annoyed. i am getting sick and tired of all these people +who are wallowing in their pain. i am sick of tired of all these people +who wear their depression as a badge of honor. "Ohh look at me, give me +attention". + +right now as we speak, i am talking to a total stranger i have never +spoken to on IRC about his upcoming suicide. he smiled when he told me +about it: "oh by the year's end, i will be dead and i won't care". + +its like a pissing contest. its like, "oh, i have been hurt by this and +that and then some, i can't deal with life!". + +its so fucking trendy now. + +fuck you. + +fuck you for giving up on everything. fuck you for saying i don't +understand. fuck you for telling me what i feel is any different. what the +fuck is so hard about changing your life? + +i see these people as gutless. as failures. +being cruel am i? + +mayhap so. + +when i was 17 i was so fucking depressed i cried for weeks. the 'man' i +loved, who i gave my virginity to, fucked me over for a 14 year old whore. +my friends were flaking out. i hated my parents. i was failing high +school. i would never get into college. i felt like a freak. i felt like a +failure. + +so i decided to end it. +i told no one. +i didn't write a note. +i just grabbed all my mothers anti-depressents and took them all. +i remember sliding down off the bed, in a half delirium wanting to scream, +and i couldn't. i was so drugged my mouth wouldn't open. i washed in and +out of consciousness, i struggled to right myself and kept sliding down +farther. + +one of my girlfriends found me. called the paramedics. +they fed me greasy hamburger, and i threw up everything. because i was +underage, they called my mother. + +she came home. + +after everyone left, i had gone outside for a cigarette. i came back to +find the door locked to our apartment. i knocked. my other open up and +started yelling at me. "Next time you try to commit suicide, use knives +instead of my pills". + +yes, my mother said that to her own daugther. + +two or three of my friends were standing behind me when she said this. + +was i that bad of a child? + +no, i wasn't. + +its been so since i have told that story. been so long since i have +talked about. tears are brimming at the edge now, wanting to spring free. + +i have been doing too much crying these days as of late. sometimes i don't +know what is wrong with me. i try to cry softly, not let anyone hear. one +of my roommates heard me the other night. i felt ashamed. + +and over the years, there have been times where i have been in so much +emotional pain, so much hurt. i remember sitting on the top of the stairs +in my parents house, rocking back and forth crying. earlier this year, +danny and i had gotten into a huge fight, and i had called and called, and +he wouldn't answer his door. i drove blindly down the same streets i have +driven down 1000's of times, and didn't know where i was. i landed at his +door, crying so hard, i nearly collapsed on the floor in front of his +apartment. + +and how many times i want to say FUCK YOU WORLD! FUCK YOU AND ALL YOUR +SHALLOW, MATERIALISTIC CRAP. FUCK YOU FOR TELLING ME I AM NOT OKAY. FUCK +YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL LIKE A FAILURE! + +FUCK YOU ALL! + +and i won't say fuck you. +i won't know the pleasure of a knife's blade cutting my skin or the taste +of many pills down my constricted throat. i won't know. + +i won't give up +i won't let anything get me down. i won't let anyone, anymore tell me what +a fucking failure i am because I won't follow their fucking lifestyle. i +won't let myself be abused, i won't let myself be mindfucked. + +"i contain multitudes"- Walt Whitman + +I am a person who feels, thinks, dreams, shits, farts, snores, gets horny, +works, sleeps. I will no longer will i accept what someone's perception of +me is. I will no longer be allowed to fall into that trap. + +so fuck you for telling me your life is too hard. fuck you for telling me +i don't know shit. fuck you for telling me that your pain is too great. +fuck you for giving it up all and fuck you for being weak. + +because i WILL NOT, no matter how great the temptation, no matter how +great the slide down is, no matter how much it is ending, will i give +ANYONE the satisfaction, my parents, my friends, anyone! the chance to +see my final failure. + +each day is a struggle. each day is a heartache. to get out of bed. to get +dressed. to catch the subway to work. to constantly feel paranoid, to +constantly feel alone and afraid, and i will not put myself through that +anymore. + +my strength is my greatest asset. my strength is what makes me 'me'. my +strength is what makes me understand the world so much better and makes me +live my life and do the things i have yet to do. + +i will not give up my life. +not for any man, not for any person, not for my parents. i will +reconstruct myself till i am happy with me. I am all that matters, my +opinions, my dreams, my goals. i will not sacrifice them anymore because +YOU don't like it. + +and when (and oh i shall) succeed, that will be the biggest FUCK YOU the +world has ever seen. + +so don't come to me with your badge of pain. carrying it around like it was +your biggest asset. because its nothing but a ploy. you have got the life +and you have the opportunity, SEIZE THE DAY! Carpe Diem! + +DO IT NOW! + +what the fuck is stopping you? What the fuck is stopping you from putting +down your foot and going "I CAN CHANGE MY LIFE TO SUITE ME". + +the only thing to fear is fear itself -obligatory cliche. + +I want to get married and never get divorced +i want to have kids. +i want a little girl with hair and eyes as dark as mine. +i want to travel to Europe and frolic around. +i want to follow the paths of the templars. +i want to climb the pyramids and look out across the Egyptian desert. +i want to finish writing my books. +i want to paint my dreams. +i want to frolic in the Caribbean +i want to sail around the world +i want to own my own business. +i want to go back to college. +i want to live in new york/boston/atlanta +i want to dance when the sun rises up +i want to love my husband till my dying day +i want to plant flowers and watch them glow +i want to greet each new day as wondrous as it is +i want to look at my husband after 50 years of marriage and love him just +as much as i did when i married him. +i want to see my grandkids. +i want to to be made love everywhere. +i want to keep dreaming. +i want to go sailing for weeks on end. +i want to hike to secluded areas and camp for weeks. +i want to be read to and read to someone. +i want to watch my own children get married and have kids of their own. +i want to network computers together and run simunye.com from home. +i want to snuggle up against my mate as the fires are burning low. +i want to fall in love, really fall in love. +i want to build my own telescope and watch the stars. +i want to fucking live life and i want to just fucking be! + + +so don't tell me I don't understand you selfish fuck. because i +understand more then you will ever know. + +- Simunye + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0408.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0408.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..32e3ac62 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0408.txt @@ -0,0 +1,96 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + revolution + ---------- + + half of the world watched Diana's funeral on TV. isn't this +mad? would it be possible to change the world system, by changing +half of the people who live in it? is it possible to manipulate +people over TV? wouldn't Diana's funeral have been a great possibility +for that? + some people say it takes years until a society can change. or it +may take even centuries. but i disagree. i believe it is just one +moment that can make everybody, or the majority, realize what +they're living in, and that basically everything is wrong. + why do people take it as it is, the family, people, or the +shareholders who own a company pay their workers just a few +percent of the money they earn. this is a fact today. but when +you really look at it, then it is just mad. it is the majority +of the people in the world, that work so that others, the rich +people can get even richer. + what does the judge do, after a trial? s/he goes in a hotel +and has a good meal. while in the third world children die because +they don't have enough to eat. so the judge is an indirect murderer, +as s/he spends the money that is needed better elsewhere for useless +things. like about everyone today and always in the past. + this is all old news. but just because it's old news, doesn't mean it's +wrong. do you like the society like it is now? are you happy with +your life? what do you need for life? can you be happy with a +religion, or with beliefs you get from books, for example new age +stuff? can you be happy without it? i don't know if i can, but i +feel i am better off without all this, as to me it's just bullshit. + it may work for some people, and help them - but i pretty much +believe that it's just random...it's like if someone tells about +her feelings, she will most likely find a percentage of people who +can totally relate to it. that don't mean her feelings are wrong, +or right, or go for everyone. to compare such to a religion, means +all religions are wrong, or all religions are right. + however, we live now. and society is cold. the ones who have +the power, politicians and economy leaders, abuse it. they don't +work for the benefit of everyone, they work to get more power, +to get acceptance by others who also have power. + acceptance. power. believing. what stupid human needs these +are. self appointed experts trying to explain the world, and still +not getting anywhere. can anyone in the world prove, that there is +a god? can anyone in the world prove there is no god? + we're losing the subject. but i don't care. so who gets listened to +in the world? the one who is loudest. the one who talks what people +want to hear. it's a mad world still. + i want a change. i want to be able to live where i want to live, +to use any car on the street when i want to take a ride, i want +to be able to be creative, to work on my ideas, to write and to +live only for me. i cannot live having a normal job when i always +know that my job giver earns far more with me, than she pays me. + i am not going to follow society rules. i have my own rules and +these rules are: doing whatever i want. and i feel there is billions +of other people who would like to live like that. i feel there is a big +need in this world for a change. does anyone agree to this? everyone who +does should make it happen. there is always a way. + yeah, i don't feel like writing twenty files, i feel like putting +everything just in one. sometimes i think why people take their life, +and seem to accept it like it is. like those, who work 40 or 50 years +of their life, never really knowing what for or like 'the way is the goal'. + i prefer to risk life time jail instead of walking that way. some +self appointed experts say the world, and everything, was built from +chaos. there couldn't be more chaos in my brain. and i hope i am not +the only one. we're not a generation. we are the future, it's in our, +it's in my, it's in your hands. + if you need a change, then start today. i believe everyone is the same. +it's just a matter of how long one thinks about something. be creative +if you aren't already, and if you are be more creative. talk to others, +you will see many people think the same like you do. + +anemic royalty + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0409.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0409.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b125880a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0409.txt @@ -0,0 +1,119 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Shard + ----- + + Contentness. Satisfaction. With a sly smile, the young man +dug in his pockets for his keys. The keyring held various keys for +different aspects of his life. A four meg simm dangled from it, a +sign of his profession. A super mini-maglite next to the RAM. He sorted +out the right key and popped the trunk of his '92 Honda Civic. The +trunk lifted up revealing the normal contents he had seen everytime +before. + A black milk crate filled with car components helped him +dozens of times before. Snake light, mini-mag lite, two cans of +fix-a-flats, paperwork from his last two car repairs, and other +assorted items. Next to that was an old military bag filled with +common tools; screw drivers, hammer, wrench, and more. Toward the back +of the trunk was a metal pole in case he ran into unfriendly types. +He glanced both ways to make sure no one was paying any special +attention to him, not that they would have a reason, but he always +liked to make sure. + It was a beautiful day out, more so because he rarely left his +apartment during the day. He set the red plastic cup on the back bumper +and put on a set of cheap gloves. After he emptied the trunk of the +normal contents, he set to task. Throughout the trunk were small +shards of glass, littering the carpet like stars on night. Starting +in the upper right corner, he moved clockwise through the trunk removing +the glass. Each piece rolled off his gloves into the cup. + + It was only five hours before, his friend had thrown a twenty +pound rock through the window of a computer repair shop. He had followed +the rock through seconds after and began to gather up items in the +store. By the count of ten both men were in the store, thieves of the +night. Twenty, and his friend's bag had several hard drives in it. Thirty +and he had removed all cable connections from their primary server, his +friend with a full bag already. Forty seconds and his friend was heading +out with bag in one hand, a stack of routers balanced on his other. +Fifty seconds and he was running out the window he had entered, a full +tower server under each arm. Both weighed quite a bit, but felt like +empty pizza boxes because of the adrenaline. + Three minutes after the rock sailed through, they were turning +onto the frontage road, entering the freeway. No sign of police, nothing +else out of the ordinary. It was only fifteen more seconds before they +were free to relax. Once on the highway, they were just two guys going +home late at night. He remembers pulling into the apartment complex +a big smile on both of their faces, content with their new found +possessions. Neither could afford it on their individual incomes, but +none of the equipment they had liberated were required by any means. +Just an easy way to get new toys to play with, to learn about. It was +a great way to enhance their skillset in order to progress in the computer +industry. + + Twenty minutes had passed and half the glass shards were out +of the trunk and into the cup. No matter what they did, glass always +ended up in the car or their clothes. It would be weeks later and one +of them would find a piece of glass in a shirt pocket or cuff of a sleeve. +This had almost become a ritual after a night of energy. More minutes +and a few neighbors passed as he continued cleaning. It was rare that +he gave thought about the right or wrong of what he did. He had no problems +doing that kind of thing at night, no moral barriers. The more he thought +about it, the more satisfied he was. + People didn't look at the entire picture most of the time. They +saw the short term view, and made a judgement based off that shallow +view. The following day someone had to replace the broken window. That +provided more work for the glass companies, helped pay the salary of +the installation guy, produced more orders for replacement glass. The +police would surely be called in to take reports, providing them with +their somewhat daily routine. The insurance company of the computer +store would receive a call, one or two of their agents would spend part +of their day filling out paperwork in order to replace the stolen +equipment. The computer store was not full of morons, so because of +clever paperwork, the store actually made a few dollars profit on the +missing equipment. The companies that made the hardware will receive +purchase orders to replace the originals. + Add it all up, and not much was truly lost. More good came out +of the 'crime' than bad, yet no one saw it that way. Or maybe they did. +Maybe that explains why police are so casual about crimes of that nature, +and never seem really interested in catching the bad guys unless the +criminals happen to fall in their lap. Who knows. The last piece of +glass fell into the cup, the trunk closed. He headed across the parking +lot toward his front door, and without a second thought tossed the plastic +cup into the dumpster. One cup of broken glass is all there was to +represent hours and hours of work and legitimate business for all those +other people. + + Not like it mattered that his actions went unappreciated. He ended +up with new equipment to play with. Half a dozen other people ended up +with more work in order to pay their bills and move on in their life. +If they stopped to think about it, they should probably thank him. But +he knew it wouldn't come to that. He had plenty of thanks already, in the +form of a weak security system, poor response time, and bad placement +of equipment. He laughed as he thought about sending them a thank you +card. As quick as the notion had occurred, it passed on, leaving him with +a slight smile. And a small cut on his thumb. Oh the price that is +paid. + +- dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0410.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0410.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bf1c9659 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0410.txt @@ -0,0 +1,63 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Years of Glass + ------------------ + + The light begins to fade away, + as I stand up and you turn to look the other way. + I bring my hand up, pressing it up against the glass, + though you cannot see me, nor hear my heart beating. + + Here I am, watching you, waiting for you, + wanting and wishing you were me, or I were you. + + Then enters the one that placed this huge weight + upon my head. Wanting it bronzed, and such ... + I trace his face, with my fingertips, over the glass, + I wish he could have heard my cry. + + Ones believe what they wish to, + even if they know the truth is different then the supposed fact. + + Seeing you, I wonder if you ever think, + or do you just go and do? + What was it I said to you? + What was it that I did so badly? + + Only the truth can set you free, + and only the strength of trust has trapped me here. + You could have helped me break free, though you did not want to... + for that would mean, that I am me, and you are you, + us being on different sides, while together could never be. + So, here I am, where you have trapped me. + + Breaking free, will I ever make it? + How can you just stand there, laughing + as I stand here with tears that long ago ran dry. + For, even I do not cry anymore. + What good does an angel do, + if you are trapped beneath the hell that you've been through? + + + Kamria + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0411.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0411.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..08a90874 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0411.txt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Fortune Cookies + --------------- + +I just returned from a long trip to Cocoa Beach, Florida and had a hell of +a lot of fun while I was there. Yet, the one thing which stuck in my mind +was the consistently horrible food wherever we went. Getting silly over +drinks and conversation in a Chinese restaurant last night, we tormented +our waitress into giving us a ton of fortune cookies to kill the taste of +the meager food. My ten, with my drunken comments to each one, are below: + + +Good advice jars the ear. + +...But loud music is better. + +You simplify your life in many ways and find great rewards. + +...A lot less bullshit to deal with. + +Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome. + +...But you'll have too many idiots surrounding you. + +All happiness is in the mind. + +...Kind of like when you're sick, "It's all in the mind." + +You'll advance far with your abilities. + +...Still treading! + +When you give something away, it makes room for something new. + +...I would have preferred "thrown away" over "give away." + +A romantic evening at home is the best way to relax. + +...And I always thought sleeping was the best way to relax. + +No harm in putting all your eggs in one basket - just watch it closely. + +...Some fucker is always looking to steal them. + +Many a false step is made by standing still. + +...But at least you don't get run over by cars. + +Approach the future with an optimistic smile. + +...I prefer an evil grin. + + +se7en +10/3/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0412.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0412.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..45df3091 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0412.txt @@ -0,0 +1,108 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Some Raindom Thoughts + --------------------- + +I was thinking tonight; thinking about this magazine... + +I have been involved with F.U.C.K. for about four years now. I guess that +I consider myself old school like that, and I wanted to express some of +my experiences and reflections related to the magazine. + +I wrote my first file for F.U.C.K. under a different nick when I was a +freshman in high school. My old BBS was one of the first F.U.C.K. distro +sites in 303. I was one of the first people in 303 who knew that DisordeR +was Dam. I have watched this mag grow and change over the last several +years. I don't take credit for any of that. I don't feel special because +I have been involved as much as I have. There are others who have a +deeper background in this zine than myself. That is not the point I want +to make. It's just some background that lets you know where I come from. + +I remember chatting with Dis one night on my BBS. Back then, I didn't +know that he was Dam. All I knew was that he was connected to the zine in +some way. I had read several of the files and was very interested in the +mag and what it had to offer. I wanted to be involved, so I asked Dis if +my board could be a distro site. It was actually pretty amusing what took +place. I filled out the app and he told me that he was going to chat with +Dam on IRC and get back to me. Once of the pre-requisites to becoming a +distro site was to have read all the files and he asked me if I had. At +the time there were about 65 files released and I was reading them as we +chatted. I told him that I hadn't, that I was in the process of doing so, +and to "tell Dam that I had read them all". A few weeks later when I made +the Dam/Dis connection I felt like an idiot. It's a story that sticks out +in my mind to this day when I think about the early times. + +I was captivated by several of the files that I read back then. Some +titles that stick out in my mind as influential are: "Some Wildly Obscure +Fiction", "Pity the Cynic", "Shock Value", and "Night Sounds". Some of +the early writers I can recall by memory are PsI, fastjack, Loki, Doc +Z., and Acid Warlock to name a few. Those files and authors helped to +build the foundation that F.U.C.K. has been building on for the past +several years. Beyond that, they also make a personal impact on me, my +perceptions, and my thoughts. + +I have seen how the face of F.U.C.K. has changed considerably since those +times. Files that are being released now have a totally different +direction and feel to them. Many times I have contemplated whether or not +this change is good, or if we are abandoning the foundation which has made +F.U.C.K. what it is. Even now I am not sure, and I believe that this file +is my own personal interrogation into that question. + +I admit that I am "guilty" of contributing to what people perceive +F.U.C.K. as today. I have released my own score of files on +relationships. I have used this zine as an outlet of my own angst, and +cannot and will not apologize for that. However, I do feel that we, the +writers for F.U.C.K., need to evaluate for our selves whether or not we +are keeping the spirit of F.U.C.K. alive. + +F.U.C.K. has changed. I have changed. The world has changed. But when I +looked at it closely I have discovered that not much is different. While +I have a completely different outlook on life than I did back in those +days, I can still find my true self. I am still me. I am still a cynic. +I still hate 90% of this world. I still have the anger and rage that I +have always had. There are still things in this world that make me want +to spit in a blind fury. I am still as passionate about my beliefs as I +used to be. I still have things that I love. I am still searching my +soul to define my own existence. None of that has changed. I am still as +dysfunctional and broken as have been for the last 8 years. Who I am +hasn't changed, just the way I portray myself. + +In the same manner, I think that this magazine is still itself. Even +though the face of F.U.C.K. is different, I feel that the writers still +hold a common bond with the authors of the past. I cannot restrict the +essence of what I feel F.U.C.K. is to mere words. You have to find and +understand that for yourself. + +Now I find myself sitting in my dorm room... in college. I don't feel +that I have grown out of this magazine. I think that I have grown into +it. There is so much that I have yet to ponder and experience and I hope +that I will still be able to use this zine as a way to express myself to +the world. + +I realize now who I really am. + +I guess I am just a Fucked Up College Kid... + + +.: illusionary :. .: :. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0413.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0413.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..621ad27b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0413.txt @@ -0,0 +1,143 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Addiction or Need? + ------------------ + +Sitting across the table from my parents, I know they are talking to me, and +that I should be listening, but I cannot help but stare at my bag on the +counter. In that bag, is the answer to whether or not I live or die. It is +not a question if I want it, but it is a question that I need it, so when am +I going to take some? + +Sighing, finally they finish their talk with me, and I nod my head, as if I +had listened to all that they had said. As they leave the room, I take the +bag and go into my room. Shutting the door, I sit down on my bed, and look +out the window ... if I was somewhere else, would I be able to get this life +line that I need? + +Opening the bag, I reach in and pull out the small bottle. Inside I can see +the liquid floating around, it needs to be rolled. Sometimes, I wonder if +someone shook me hard enough, I would wake up and realize it has all been just +a nightmare. But, I know that it is not. + +Running my hand along the crease of the bag, I find a syringe and pull it out. +Taking the clear cap off the end, and then the orange cap, I find myself +studying the metal of the needle. It is small, and thin, why should it hurt +so much? It's so small, yet it makes the difference whether I live or die? +I was always told insects were nothing to fear or bother with because they +were so tiny, so why does something so tiny truly define the length of my +life? I know, there are ones that think I do not need it, and there are +even more that do not even know I use it. + +Turning the bottle upside down, and sticking the syringe in, I pull the +liquid out, to a measured amount. I have pain to look forward to. No, it +does not hurt every time I do it, just a lot of the time. Even when I was +over-weight. Though, now I weigh what I did nine years ago, that was before +I even had become a teenager practically. + +Hearing someone outside my door, I jab myself, and push the liquid into me. +Placing the orange cap back on, over the needle, I stick it into the bag, as +the door slowly opens. The person peeks their head inside, and looks around. +They were checking on me. I silently drop the small bottle into the bag, +and toss the bag near the foot of my bed and walk out of my room. + +Later that night, I decide I am going to take a walk. It is dark out. A +cool, crisp night, and the moon is high in the sky. My favorite time of +night has arrived. The nighttime animals are in performing their rituals for +the night, and I walk along the street, that is not even paved. Hearing a +crunch, I can tell by the loudness and surrounding sounds, that is must be a +deer. Turning to see if I am right, I meet the eyes of one of the great +bucks that live in this woods. They hold a mystery, despite what others +may say ... + +That next morning, I awake to the sound of the birds that are chirping, +squawking and causing a stir outside of my window. The sun is streaming down +from it's high perch, and I look down into the yard. Another day, another +shot. + +Walking out into the kitchen, I force down the accurate amount of food, that +I am suppose to eat. 80 calories down, 80 more... how can I eat more? I hate +eating, but I do not have a choice. My dad enters the kitchen he smiles and +nods his head in a greeting. I slam the rest of my juice down, and rinse off +my dishes. 200 calories. Everything is calories, exchanges, and only what +I need, to balance out what I take. + +If it was up to me, I would have succeeded in making my goal weight of 100 +pounds, seven years ago, even if I would have ended up in the hospital. At +least I would have been lighter. Though, I shouldn't complain, I am back +down in weight, and that is where I will remain. + +I dread the thought of lunch time. Again, just more calories, and pointless +conversation. Sometimes I wonder what is worse, to sit here and listen to +ones with such close-minded opinions, about gays, colored people, and every +other type of thing different then them, or the urge to force myself to +throw up, from not wanting anything more crammed down my throat. + +After lunch, I run my hand across the place I always do my shots, and I feel +the skins surface is different. People have always said how smooth and soft +and how wonderful my skin feels ... little do they know, I hate all the scars +I have, and I feel the coarseness, of where I insert the needles. I hate it! +I wish I could stop ... really I wish I could. But, I cannot. If I did, I +would die. + +That little bottle is what keeps me alive ... how could I live without it? + +Am I addicted? No, I am not, I need it to live ... I know that is what my +friends have said that have been on things before ... that they are not +addicted, that they could quit any time. But, the difference between them and +I, is that I cannot stop, and I know that. + +If I would stop, I would either go one of two ways. Either way, is not the +way I wish to die. Though, maybe it is wrong for me to ever think of how +I wish to die. It's not like I will have a total say in it, or will I? + + +- Kamria + +It's not an Addiction, it's a Need. + +I'm a diabetic, and I need to take insulin injections. Two shots a day, no +matter how I feel, or if I want to eat or not, I have to take them and I have +to force food down my own throat, or have someone else do it. I suppose it +really has saved my life, because otherwise I would have probably died from +lack of food or whatever ... but sometimes I think it truly is a curse. Not +a blessing. But, either way it is supposedly something I never had a choice +in, nor a say in ... excercise and diet are not enough to keep my bloodsugars +in the normal range, since my pancrease does not produce the insulin it needs +I need to take the shots. I take them in my stomach, and every day I swear +they hurt more and more ... Bruises, calloses, and then sometimes not a change +at all. + +A choice is shooting up yourself, full of heroine or something else ... but, +insulin is not a choice. It is a need. Because without you would die, +literally. + +Why anyone would ever voluntarily shoot themselves up, I will never be able +to fully understand. Maybe it's the fact of wanting to feel control over +your own body, and life. But, sometimes you do not have control over it. But +that does not mean that you need to continue it - it's up to you whether you +live or die. Whether or not you do what you do, not any one elses. It's +how you want to live, or how you want to die ... having a say or going down +without a fight. The difference between right and wrong, wanting and needing +an Addiction or a Need. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0414.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0414.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..08ab5795 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0414.txt @@ -0,0 +1,164 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Returning to the City of Angels + ------------------------------- + + Memoirs of Los Angeles + 10/9/97 + + +I arrived at Los Angeles International Airport several hours late due to a +"mechanical problem," quickly grabbed a rental car and drove towards the +downtown hotel in the evening rain. All I wanted right now was a night of +sleep before I began what was to be another two day presentation to a +group of corporate CIOs. Somewhere during my drive between the airport and +the hotel, a strange feeling overcame me. I have spent 26 years of my life +in Los Angeles, and know my way around the city like no other. I knew +where I was and where I was going, but I was experiencing the feeling of +being a second time visitor to this city, and not that of a once longtime +resident. Where had all the years, all the memories, all the experiences, +and all of the people I once knew gone to? Why did I feel like I was +visiting an alien world? + +I was unexpectedly assigned a suite near the top floor of the hotel with +an incredible view of all of Los Angeles. From the downtown high rises to +the ocean, and everything in between, it was right there for me to see, +complete with a balcony should I wish to enjoy the view unrestricted by +walls of glass. In retrospect, it was the worst fucking room I could have +been given in the entire hotel. I did not sleep that night. + +Los Angeles is a brutal city to live in. The alienation and loss of +identity caused by living in Los Angeles led me to San Francisco almost +two years ago. San Francisco is an incredible city but, even it becomes +too hard to live in sometimes for completely different reasons. Sometimes +I have just felt the need to escape; to run away and detach from the world +to think about whatever. Over the last year I have been considering +getting a second residence to escape to when things get too crazy in San +Francisco. I always considered Los Angeles as the ideal second place, +despite all the fucked up reasons why I left it in the first place. Maybe +it was familiarity. But, if this was true, why did I feel so lost here? I +felt like I had lost myself and my identity all over again just by being +here. After further thought, I believe the reason why I wanted to spend my +detachment time here is because I feel detached here. Los Angeles would be +the perfect environment for an escape city. What I didn't know at the time +was that I would be living here in less than four days. + +I was telling my manager/agent/old-man-who-I-drive-crazy all of this over +lunch in the presence of a few CIOs from the class the next day. Later +that evening in the hotel lounge, an offer was made to me by one of the +CIOs that was with us at lunch. This company owned several apartment +complexes around Los Angeles, and in exchange for some complimentary +consulting services, they would provide me with a furnished apartment for +one year. As he said, "We get what we want without cost, you get what you +want without cost." After a few more drinks I accepted the offer, and +tonight I opened the door to my new apartment in Westwood for the first +time. + +I should have been home early Tuesday evening in San Francisco, but I am +still here as of Thursday night, writing this on an old 486 laptop, and +wondering when the hell I will be going back to where I really live, and +if I even want to. The original plan for having two residences was to stay +in one city until I got sick of it, and then go back to the other, and so +on. I figured every ten days I would be switching residences. I don't feel +like going back to San Francisco right now. I don't even know why I don't +want to go home. I just don't. I feel lost. Maybe that's why I want to be +here in Los Angeles right now. Only problem is, having originally come +here for a two-day conference, I don't have enough clothing to stay for +too long. I have no choice right now; I will be staying here for a while. +I have twenty days of consulting to do here to work off this apartment. +And the shock of being here is going to cause another sleepless night. + + + The Wrong Side of the Street + 10/10/97 + +You know when you're in Los Angeles when you've only been here for less +than an hour and you are already wishing death upon someone. The target of +my ill will right now is the doorman of our building. Every time you +approach the door from either side, he holds it open for you, smiles, and +mutters some small talk. I hate small talk, and I hate people who smile. +People who smile should be shot. My doorman should be shot. Am I supposed +to tip this fucker every time he holds open the door for me? Am I supposed +to tip him once a month like some sort of employee of mine? Holidays only? +Or should I just ignore him, thereby pissing him off, and probably getting +a door or two prematurely closed in my face? I didn't tip him when I came +in because I didn't know if I was supposed to, and, either way, I had +three pieces of luggage. He gave me a strange look. I gave him a strange +look back. + +I checked out the building, or at least what I was able to get to, and +it's pretty cool. There are several small shops like a market, a dry +cleaner and a hair salon serving the building. There are two fitness +centers, a pool, a jacuzzi, steam room, four tennis courts, and a +basketball court in the building. There is subterranean gated parking, +security guards, a concierge and, of course, a fucking doorman. The view +from the roof is incredible. + +My first disappointment is the location of my particular unit for two +reasons. The first is that I have wanted to live in a high rise for the +longest time, and now that I am, I am living on the fifth floor of a +thirty floor building. The second reason is the view I have from my +balcony. I have a view of Westwood Village, UCLA Medical Center, the 405 +freeway and the Santa Monica Mountains. But, the view is broken up by a +half-dozen commercial high rises right across the street. A unit on a +higher floor would have made the view better. The bitch is, if I had a +unit on the other side of the building, even if it was on the same floor, +I would have an awesome view of Los Angeles sweeping from downtown all the +way to the ocean. If I have a chance to trade some work for an apartment +again next year, I want a unit on the other side and at least twenty +floors higher. The company I worked the deal out with owns the building, +so it just might work. + +The neighborhood is kind of so-so due to a mixture of paradoxes. It's a +money area, yet there are bums on the streets. They are here because there +are a lot of commercial high rises full of business people to beg money +from. A mile to the north is the UCLA campus where I went to college. A +mile to the west is the 405 freeway and the Los Angeles Federal Building. +A mile to the east is lined with commercial and residential high rises, +which are only one deep, because behind us on the south side is a ridge +upon which many buildings, including mine, are built, offering spectacular +views, should your unit face that direction. + +As you could guess, this neighborhood generates a lot of traffic, +therefore, a lot of noise. During the day the streets are full of +students, businessmen, commuters and delivery trucks. During the night, +and on weekends, the streets are filled with students and tourists making +that shortcut from the freeway into Beverly Hills and all that shit a few +miles to the east. I don't hear too much of the noise if I keep the +windows and sliding glass door shut, and I can cut out all noise if I turn +on a room fan on the slow speed. + +The apartment is pretty impressive, at least compared to what I have in +San Francisco. It is what is known as a corporate apartment, which is a +financial alternative to a hotel when companies have long term visiting +executives who can use it and feel more at home. I have one bedroom and +one bath. Everything you need, with the exception of clothing and food, is +already here. It is fully-furnished with cream-colored and bleached-oak +furniture. The only items missing that I would need are a VCR and a +stereo. I wish I had a place like this in San Francisco, only with a +better view and a higher floor. Maybe next year. + +se7en +Los Angeles + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0415.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0415.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2567e427 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0415.txt @@ -0,0 +1,101 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Fuck You + -------- + + It's been quite awhile since someone has managed to push my buttons +and fill me with pure rage, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. +It happened this morning. + I was on the phone with one of my friends, a payphone mind you, in +the middle of a fucking tornado. No joke, I could see the funnel cloud. + Anyway, there I was, soaking wet, standing in a fucking puddle up +to my ankles, and my friend tells me that one of my ex-girlfriends just +came in the same chat room. + Well, I hadn't talked to her in about a year, so I asked my friend to +relay to her the same message I give to all the stupid whores who have +fucked me over. I simply told her to fuck off. + Instead of trying to explain what was said, I'll just include the +transcript. Collision is my friend, Sweet Demon is the whore. + +Collision: InVerse says to fuck off. +Sweet Demon: InVerse?! Where's he at? +Collision: I'm on the phone with him. +Sweet Demon: Why would you talk to him? +Collision: 'Cuz he's my friend. +Sweet Demon: How'd he know I was on? +Collision: I told him. +Sweet Demon: Oh, well did he ever grow up? But then again I guess his + message answers that. + + Did I ever grow up? That's what pushed me over the edge. I was outside +in 40 degree weather, being pelted with ice cold rain, yet I could feel +my blood begin to boil. The old familiar rage began to rise as my grip +tightened around the receiver. + I'm completely against violence against women. I've never hit a female +and I seriously doubt I ever will, but if she had been within even two +hours walking distance, I would have trudged through that fucking storm +and beat her fucking brains in with the biggest tree branch I could swing. + Anyway, I suppose I should explain *why* that little comment inspired +such intense anger, or else this file will be pretty pointless and boring. + Whenever we first started going out, I had just broken up with my +girlfriend of 9 months. She was having problems with her boyfriend and +ended up leaving him for me. (I suppose I should mention that this was an +on-line relationship.) + Anyway, once we started going out she made me promise over and over +again that I wasn't going to get tired of her and dump her. The she was +afraid that she might have gotten pregnant before she broke up with her ex. +We discussed it and I promised her that if she *was* pregnant, I'd help her +raise the baby. + I had no job and no money and she was still in high school and living +with her parents, so we couldn't exactly be together right then. I made +plans to move down to Texas with a friend of mine so I could get a job, +save up some money, and then move up to New Jersey with her a few months +later. + Well, like I said, I didn't have any money, so to pay for my bus ticket +to Texas (as well as a plane ticket to NJ so I could go to homecoming with +her) I sold my computer, my guitar and a few other items. And what does +she do? Go on and on about making me promise that I won't sleep with the +girl that I was planning on staying with. + Well, it didn't matter, because that plan fell through and I ended up +having to move in with my grandmother because my mom kicked me out of the +house when she found out about my plan to move to TX. + So I joined the Job Corps program. I figured out a plan where I would +be able to move out to NJ just in time for her B-day. But when I told her +about it, she told me not to bother because she had decided that she didn't +love me anymore. (She later admitted to a mutual acquaintance that she +didn't want to have to go that long without sex.) + So tell me. Who needs to grow up? Me, who gave up everything I had so I +could be with her and help her raise a child that wasn't mine? Or her, +who was stupid enough to get herself in the position to get pregnant in the +first place and then ended a relationship simply because she wasn't going +to get laid for a few months. + You tell me. I'd like some input from other people to see if my intense +hatred is justified, so if you've got any comments, feel free to send 'em +my way. + +-InVerse + +inverse@atheist.com + +Btw: I fully intend to kill her at the first convenient opportunity. =) + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0416.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0416.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bc20bd09 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0416.txt @@ -0,0 +1,164 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + what were you doing 2 hours ago? + -------------------------------- + +it's 3:25pm. what was i doing two hours ago? swapping jokes with a friend. +checking email. planning the location for the friday-afternoon-spree-of- +drunken-glee. friend just called. "_____'s dad died two hours ago." when +just this past weekend he was feeling fine. free of pain. great outlook on +the future et al. marvelous recovery from a bleeding ulcer. makes one +wonder if what was felt was truly said. maybe he just said he was fine to +shield his family from his pain. an attempt at a + + self-fulfilling prophecy spoken too late. + +the living can speculate whether or not the dead knew Death was near. but +did they really? i remember when my great-grandma died. my mom was already +at the hospital...they had called saying she wouldn't last the night. my +brother and i woke up to the phone ringing... "kids, a taxi is coming to +pick you up. great-grandma will probably die soon." + + 4 breaths a minute. + +then 6. 7. she seemed to be coming back like she had those zillions of +times before. but sometimes zillions to a child may only be 8. 24 hours +later we thought she pulled another fast one. i gave her a kiss goodbye. +"i'll see you in the afternoon great-gramma." after sleeping a few hours +at home, the phone rang. we all rushed rush to it; mom got there first. +by her tone of voice it was evident that great-grandma was dead. we could +only speculate whether she wanted to die alone, to go through her final +pain alone, so the last picture of her on our minds would be of her +pleasantly sleeping, a faint smile on her face, and a touch of rose in her +chilling cheeks. + + peace. + +i decided on friday to make this an on going abstract. until it seems to +come into completion. on this manic day i am continuing this peace...my +escape from the echoing keystrokes resounding off the cubicle walls around +me. + + escape. + +it sometimes can be in the form of multiple personalities. what once may +have been considered a disorder now reflects everyday life on the net. +ironic ain't it? people impersonating who they think they might be under +their + + masques. + +til chance the night comes when the lightning strikes, the monitor dims, and +they are faced to gaze into their own eyes in the glass. and they see that +in years of living multiple personas they have managed to allow each masque +to bend, not crack. to form into one united person, embodying all aspects of +every persona. at this point they decide to do away with all the names of +their masques but one. + + death to the rest. + +when one such as demonika announces that palpable obscure will no longer lick +its palate, click its nails upon the keys, what is the proper eulogy? to +whom shall we send our condolences? + +on this wedding day of days i remember a powerful energy, a lashing tongue, +nails not made for clicking, but for piercing through the keys to your +inner-most soul. gouging through the many masques within you inside out. + + damanstian. + +not seen nor heard from for years now. slipped away. silenced perhaps by +the new and improved masque95 or NT, or perhaps by itself. damanstian, my +damanstian, fuck's poster boy of rage, wherefore art thou now? the current +rage may fit the name, but truly your words were more + + seething. + +if such a powerful being is capable of committing itself to death, what must +come to raise it from the grave? or perhaps even its inner-most soul has +forgotten who it once was. in the words of the great Floyd, is it + + too late? + +even fuck has taken on a new face. once a critic of Life itself, is now but +a medium of rants and raves. few palpable pieces stay true to the past. the +unspoken ideal. the intellectual ramblings of fucked up souls who had more +to criticize than religion and relationships. + + whatever happened to those? + +a few years ago, less than a second to infinity, and not far off in the +memories of my heart and mind, the mom of a high school friend went in to the +hospital for some minor surgery in the abdominal region. wasn't kept +overnight...no reason to. she woke up for the wee-hours-of-the-morning-pee- +break common to most living beings, and died on the floor right outside the +bathroom door. + + hemorage. + +i can only wonder what she dreamt that night. was there a hint of +foreshadowing in her sleep? did she know then as she fell to the ground that +Death had followed her to the door, perhaps after pricking the exterior of +her bladder with her own internal blood to cause her rise? what did her +children think when they found her a few hours later, dead after their +peaceful sleep? and who would be to blame? chance the hospital foresaw +such event, would not fate have taken her anyway, seconds away from the +nurses' bell? + + who can pay for loss of Life when Death itself can not pay suite? + + if one could pay for Life, what would be the cost thereof? + + for a couple bills one can purchase a sperm and egg. + + but what would be the price + + of the infinite souls + + that such junction + + could realize? + +-=-=- + +i must admit that after two zero zero i wondered if it would ever come to +three...but four? and with more actives than not? if it came to three i +vowed to myself to write again. and to write my first fuck. and i do have +1 submitted. 1 writing. 1 more written and more quickly blown to bits. if +this wasn't forecasted in four zero zero as a phwack to get my ass in gear, +it may never have come to completion. or as complete as it is currently + + with a tbc on the end + + to be finished in the next millini-era + + maybe i am wrong. + +maybe fuck is still the same. maybe nothing else has changed. + + but me. + + yt + +tbc... + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0417.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0417.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..18e7446f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0417.txt @@ -0,0 +1,58 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + everything i needed to know i learned in 303 + -------------------------------------------- + + - trust no one, even when they say they are your friends. + - learn when to get into an argument, and when to stay out + of one. + - don't rely on what other people tell you. go to the source. + - be smart. don't do anything you are uncomfortable with. + - learn how to use the word no. + - recognize the signs of social engineering and manipulation. + - relationships are a waste of time. + - don't borrow or lend money. + - be yourself. fuck everyone else and what they think. + - unix is the only OS. all others are fairly useless. + - don't waste your time on meaningless friendships or + relationships. if it is not working, get out. + - be honest with yourself, but lie to others when necessary. + - don't buy cheap stuff. wait till you can afford the best. + - people steal. don't tell anyone what you have. + - wear black. it is never out of style. + - don't back down. + - never get in the way of boys and their toys. + - never get in the way of boys and their friends.. the 'buddy' + relationship is more sacred than any religion, more bonding than + any glue, and men would rather have their friends than anything + else in the world.. except maybe toys. (see previous.) + - buy a used car and you buy a lot of trouble. + - don't give your hacker friends accounts on your box unless you + feel like dealing with administrative headaches. + - IRC is lame. don't take it seriously. + - flame wars are best left in /dev/null. + - pets are expensive but worth it. + - make sure your landlord lives in the same area that you do. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0418.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0418.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4f7acb73 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0418.txt @@ -0,0 +1,151 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Permanence is Not the Ground We Walk On Here + -------------------------------------------- + + Memoirs of Los Angeles + 10/17/97 + +Who are we as Angelenos? According to one business journal, we are "the +most ethnically diverse city in the world." We speak a hundred or more +languages. We are from every country in Latin America, Asia, the Middle +East, the subcontinent, Africa, Europe and virtually every city and town +in the United States. Take the Sunset Boulevard bus from East Los Angeles +to Beverly Hills, and you see store signs in Spanish, Korean, Thai, Farsi, +Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Italian, Hebrew, Russian and English. You +see Aztecs sharing sidewalks with Celts. You see descendants of the Zulu +waiting for buses with descendants of the Ming Dynasty. The very fact that +we are here, as opposed to where our ancestors called home, is a testament +to how much we are products of the transitory. + +The vast majority of us had to leave something behind to come here, and, +on arrival, had to push aside what was here in order to make room to +liveroom for who we are. And wasn't that always the nature of Los Angeles' +invitation? That the city was wide-open enough, undefined enough, willing +to change enough, to accommodate the myriad tribes who would become +Angelenos? The city itself is a result of the inexorable movement of the +world's economies and peoples. It's unreasonable to demand respect for +"permanence" from a citizenry who have in common nothing so much as their +experience of impermanence. + +To speak derisively of how transitory we are is to be dismissive of the +basic questions Angelenos live with. Art is about the expression of an +individual and a cultural identity. When a woman is half-Mexican Catholic +and half-Hungarian Jew, and meditates at a Buddhist temple; loves African +pop music and German string quartets; is reading a Russian novel, eating +Thai food, going to Hollywood movies, wearing Asian-made clothing; speaks +a tongue her grandparents could not understand; works in a neighborhood +where the reinvention of gender is encouraged, and shares all this, +willy-nilly, every time she walks down the street, with people as +patchwork as she, then the question of identity becomes more of a life +quest than it ever was for people growing up in more homogeneous +societies. Her life takes on all the great questions in artquestions of +what, among all this hodgepodge, is truly herself. + +Multiply that by several million, and you have an enormous +mural-in-the-flesh that we call Los Angeles. Our very identities are at +stake. Identities we've lost, and identities we're trying to create. If +that isn't the stuff of great art, then what is? + +The Internet brings the world to our computer screens. But what the +Internet does electronically, Los Angeles embodies on its streets. As we +work out our individual identities, and our relationships with each other +across the old barriers of race and ethnicity, we are determining more +than the fate of this city. Together, we are living an epic poem of our +history, and in our lives we are deciding a crucial question of the 21 st +century: Can so many different cultures, thrown together amid so many new +technologies, forge a new, fruitful and peaceful daily life? + +Human beings in every era, and in every conceivable situation, have felt +compelled to create art. That alone testifies to its necessity in our +lives. The worth of Los Angeles, and the grandeur of the city, ultimately +depends for its cultural value not on what the critics say, but on the +unfinished work of art that is Los Angeles. + + + Can You Trip Like I Do? + 10/10/97 + +That awesome song by Filter blasted through my headphones all the way +here. I arrived here in my real home two hours ago to grab some things, +make some calls, send some email, and wait for my flight back to Los +Angeles tomorrow night. The full shock of what happened hit me when I +walked in the front door. I was only going to Los Angeles to talk for two +days, and then I would be back. Almost a week later, I finally return home +for the sole purpose of grabbing some necessities for my new apartment in +Los Angeles. I stood in the middle of the house listening to my mind race +with random thoughts. A cold beer snapped me into a better frame of +reference. + +What do you take with you and what do you leave behind when you are moving +into a second residence 500 miles away? To answer that question, you need +to know how long you plan to be in each city, so that the dominant city +has the greater selection of your personal belongings. But to answer the +question of the dominant city, you need to know the reasons for your +detachment with life and why you are running. Only when you know this will +you know which city will become your primary residence and how you will +divide your belongings between them. Another cold beer snaps me into +apathy. Who wants to think right now? I just want to get the fuck out of +here. + +I need clothing. Fuck, I'll just take all of it, and haul it around with +me when I switch cities. Toiletries. Fuck it, I'll take my travel case +full of the stuff. I have three computers here, so I'll take one of the +smaller ones that I can fly with. Shit! I'll have to buy another monitor. +Don't forget the modem. Books. Grab the two I am currently reading. CD's. +I have a case for them, so I'll just bring that around with me like I do +already. Oh yeah, movies. Which ones should I take? Fuck. I don't have a +VCR down there, only a TV with cable. I grab about ten of the newer ones I +have anyway. Is that it? I fucking came home when I really didn't want to +just for some clothes, a computer, some movies and two books? Because the +rest of the shit I already had with me. The rest of my shit can stay here +until the next time I come home, when I will probably have a list of stuff +I needed but left here. + +Email all of my F.U.C.K. files to d1s. I'm waiting for the email from him +wondering why he received so many files on a similar subject in one night. +Picture all of this happening to you d1s, and try to understand the +confusion it would cause you, and remember that writing about shit helps +clear the mind. I knew you'd understand. That's why you r00l! + +Email done, make some calls. "What the fuck are you going back to LA for?" +is the question of the day. "I'm not moving to LA, it's just a second +place to hang out in when I feel the need to. San Francisco is still my +primary residence and always will be." I am absolutely sure of that. Los +Angeles is just too brutal a place to live, and I usually get sick of it +after being here for only a week, whereas I don't get sick of San +Francisco until I am here for about a month. + +It took me less than an hour to pack, but I am here for another day before +my flight back. I don't know why I just didn't book a flight to take me +right back after a few hours at home. This place is boring. That's my +first realization to come out of all of this. I guess that's why I am so +anxious to get the fuck back to Los Angeles. So I can feel alive. In +actuality, the opposite is true, and I know that, but I'll run with these +thoughts for now. I have to call and change my flight. + + +se7en +San Francisco + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0419.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0419.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..61bc37cf --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0419.txt @@ -0,0 +1,114 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Friendships + ----------- + +You are lucky if you have one true friend in your life, besides yourself. + +I have been lucky, in my opinion, I have had a few true friends, though, life +has separated us, one of many ways, and we are no longer together. However, +they will always have a piece of my heart, and their memory lives within me. + +Sometimes, I wish and curse that they had to leave my life ... to never be +heard from again, or rarely ever heard from at all. Yet, it was only +recently did I really realize, why that has to happen. + +If your close friends always remain the same, you would miss out on other +great people, and their ideas and their friendship ... at least that is how +I think of it. Because, if she would still be here, I KNOW for a fact that +things would have gone dramatically different, because, I would have never +gone back to an ex of mine, that was no good for me; nor would I have tried +teaching; nor would I have reached out to others, and really discovered that +I had a good friend, that I did not even realize was a friend, until one +night I needed to talk with someone. And, that someone I did not want it to +be someone that would flip out, hearing my thoughts, nor did I want someone +that would get all emotional on me, either. Just someone that would give it +to me straight, and would be objective, and either be supportive or negative +but, I figured if I would reach him, and he was there, then there was a +reason to how things had gone ... and it was since that cold, late, lonely +December night, that I have rarely thought of suicide again. It's kind of +funny, now that I think about it, how Trent Reznor lyrics could bring two +people together, two people that had always been on opposing sides. But, +when it came right down to it, we found out that we have more in common, or +at least if not more in common, something that most people do not have, and +that is an understanding of how to deal with the other. We do not talk +every day, but when I have needed him, he has been there, somehow popping +up out of nowhere. And, I would like to think I have been the same for him. + +However, then there are those friends, that you thought you'd never say +good-bye to. Those friends that you thought you'd always have... would +always be there for you and you for them. The friends that you had spent +years with, ups and downs and inbetweens. Only to look at them one day, +and see how they are treating you, and decide you are not going to take it +anymore and it is time to say good-bye. + +Friends like that, are the hardest to leave, and the ones you must. For, +that is one thing I have learned: If you are in a bad relationship +(romantic, friend, work, etc.) GET OUT. There will be no angel that will +come and save you, things are NOT going to get better, nor will they just +disappear - instead you disappear... to be lost forever, if you do not +leave. That is why you must get out - you, yourself. There is always a +way to do so, that is somehow opened to you, and when it is, I just hope +that you realize it and grasp onto it, and not let go. Because, otherwise +it might be too late... one day. + +Friendship is something to hold high and above all else. For, if you truly +have a true, close, good friend, that is a rarity and should be cherished, +respected, and cared for. However, too little of the time, those are the +very ones you say 'thank you' to the least, show how much you appreciate +them, and those are the ones that you feel lost without. But, as time goes +by, you do gradually find a way to go on, because, just because someone else +disappears, does not mean that you have to. Sure, that part of your heart, +soul, mind, that they had, goes with them, but, you are the keeper of you. +So, it is up to you if you leave, it is up to you if you let someone else +steal your heart or dreams away from you and walk away and just stand there +and dissolve into nothingness... it is also up to you, if you want to keep +taking crap from a supposed 'friend'. + +"A true friend walks in, when the others walk out." That was a quote on a +magnet that I had gotten from someone for a present once, and I think it is +totally true. + +How many times have you needed someone there for you, and those that you +really thought were your friends, turn out to be the first to leave you? +Then taking more time, you realize that your real, true friends, are those +that perhaps you never even realize were... the friends that have stood up +for you, and never expected anything for it. Friends that were there to take +your back, if you were in danger, and those that would help you smile when +you were feeling down ... those are the friends to hold on to, those are the +friends to soar with ... + +Even though a few of my best friends in the world, I have not talked with +in years, nor have seen in years, I still consider them friends ... because, +there was no good-bye, and I know if the day ever comes when we meet again, +it will seem like no time has passed, a new understanding will be there, a +new plateau - if they are true. If not, they you'll just find yourselves +going separate ways, not to remember the other. + +Friendship...it's a funny thing, because friendship usually means to have a +relationship with another, however, it has to start with yourself. Because, +you are the only one that has to always remain with yourself, so if you do +not like yourself, then how can you expect others to? + +- Kamria + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0420.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0420.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ce96d554 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0420.txt @@ -0,0 +1,136 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Fuckin' Tech Support + -------------------- + + Tech support. What a fuckin' joke. Are there any fucking +requirements whatsoever for this job? I can just imagine how the +interviews for these brainless positions go. + + "Can you read?" + "Sorta" + "Can you use a computer?" + "Does a microwave count?" + "Close enough. When can you start?" + + Can anyone guess who I just got off the phone with? Yup, fuckin' +tech support. + I was trying to set up a friend's computer to use the 'net. Every +thing seemed to be set up correctly, but the software still failed to +initialize the modem. + After trying everything I could think of, I finally gave in and called +the ISPs technical support line. I was on hold for an hour and a half +before the bastard finally answered. + I told him what the problem was and he gave me some modem strings +to try, none of which worked. + Actually, what he said went a little more like this: + +Him: Are you at your computer? +Me: Yes +Him: Ok, is Windows open? +Me: Yes +Him: Ok, click on the Applications window and then double click on Notepad. +Me: Is it ok if I just hit type notepad and hit enter since + I don't have an Applications window cuz I renamed it and deleted all + the worthless files out of it? +Him: I guess so. +Me: Next? +Him: type in C:\iexplore\modems2.ini (or something close to that) +Me: Even though I'm using Netscape? +Him: Um, didn't you get Internet Explorer software with your account? +Me: Yeah, it's in the trash beside the AOL software. +Him: Well maybe that's your problem. +Me: Maybe so, but I guess we won't know until we get the damn logon program + to work so I can sign on and find out, now will we? + + So anyway, I changed the damn modem string like 3 times and none of +them worked. + "Your modem must be broken," was his brilliant summation. + "Um...then why the hell does it work fine with other programs?" + "Are you sure about that?" he asked. + "Well, I suppose it could have been a drug induced hallucination, +except I don't do drugs." + "I don't see how, if it's messed up." + "What's your e-mail address?" I asked him. + He told me and I signed onto a shell account via Windoze Terminal and +e-mailed him. + + "Does it look like it works, dumbass?" + + I could tell by the tone of his voice that he had received it. + "Well if you can sign on, what's your problem?" he asked, snottily. + "I can only sign onto a shell account and the people who own the +account can barely use Windows 3.1, let alone Unix." + "Well then you'll just have to call the company that made the modem." + Then the fucker hung up on me. + After signing onto my hotmail account via Lynx and e-mail bombing +the son-of-a-bitch, I dug out the manual for the modem. + "What the fuck?" The fucking customer service line was long distance. +I dialed it, bitching all the time. + "Best Data customer service. How may I help you?" + "I need to talk to somebody in tech support and this is a long distance +call, so make it fast." + Forty-five fucking minutes later some fucking Mexican answered the +phone. Not to sound racist, but I've never met a Mexican that could use a +computer. Then again, I'm from the mid-west, so that might explain it. But +anyway. + I told him what the problem was and he actually figured out what was +wrong. After having me perform a test to confirm his hypothesis, he told me +he would have to send me some software to fix it. + Not wanting to wait a week, I asked him if there was anywhere I could +download it and he said no. + After I got off the phone with him, I signed onto Lycos. (It seriously +sucks with Lynx, but I had no choice.) + I did a quick search and soon found the program in question on one of +Best Data's competitor's web site. I downloaded it in under 5 minutes and +soon had it up and running. + Well, we were finally up and running albeit at a whopping 14.4 kbps, +so we decided to upgrade the modem as well. (I had already tripled the RAM +early that day.) + They didn't have much money to spend, so I had them call all the +electronics stores in the county and check on 28.8 as well as 33.6 modems. +(The whole county has less than 20,000 people.) + Only one even carried modems, and they didn't have any in stock. (These +are the same geniuses that sold us an 8 meg RAM simm in a Ziploc bag.) + The brilliant gurus at Radio Shack informed us that nobody sold 28.8 +modems anymore and that everybody used 56.6. + I told him that if he could find an ISP within 100 miles of us that +used 56.6, then I'd show him a computer that could run Win95 quickly on 4 +megs of RAM. Once again I got hung up on. + We eventually drove 100 miles to the nearest OfficeMax. I asked the +stocker where the modems were and he went to the back to ask. + In the meantime, I found the modems, grabbed a 33.6 and checked out +before he made it back. + We eventually got everything up and running and now they're surfing the +net with the rest of the world. (I was surprised that they even had an ISP +in a town of 350 people.) + Anyway, let me close with a big fuck you to NetINS, Best Data, Radio +Shack, OfficeMax and the Spice Girls. + And an especially big FUCK YOU to Packard Bell who just had a fucking +commercial on TV talking about how great their customer service is. It'd +better be fucking great since it's a fucking 900#. + +-InVerse + +inverse@atheist.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0421.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0421.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..34ea51c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0421.txt @@ -0,0 +1,130 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Purpose + ------- + +I have no snappy intro, so pardon my lack of a professionally written +essay. + +Lately, having been on the F.U.C.K mailing list for a little while, it +seemed to me that the files F.U.C.K once had has been reduced to angst +driven generation x'ers whining about how bad their life is, usually +dealing with depression, chemical or not, first and foremost. That's +what my shallowest thought was at first, at least, and I rebuked +myself for thinking that. + +Everyone gets depressed, sure, and I'm not one to argue. I've got +depression, yes, chemical, and in the last year it's become a large +chunk of my life. But in the past few years, I've also gotten to be +close friends with many people who's depression far surpasses mine. +To me, my depression seems to be small mood swings (although I'm not +manic), while they truly seem to be on the brink of killing +themselves at a moment. Most everything about yourself, you'll find, +can easily be dwarfed by someone else, somewhere else. + +Dragging someone back from the pits of suicide can take quite a toll, +and it's an experience that I've re-lived a few times, that I care +not to repeat. Saving someone's life is not the glory the movies +make it to be, not the beauty that the books say it is. Keeping +someone alive was one of the most difficult things I'd ever attempted +to do, and even then, the very concept was thrust upon me suddenly. + +And this is what I realized, among all these emotional shards, and +after wading through the bullshit about myself. You let someone into +your life, and you care for them, and then whatever deity you happen +to worship takes this person in your life and threatens to have them +leave forever. Right then, you find that you'll do something at all +costs to keep them with you. + +"I'm alive, I'm alone, but I never wanted to be either of those." + -Chemical Brothers + +Many of you out there reading this have sat in a room for days, +dark, silent, brooding upon whatever went wrong in your life. +More often than not, you're by yourself. No one is going to sit +in a room and brood with you, for days, with no food, no light, +no words. So you don't want to live. Too bad. You're alive. +Now, the secondary things take effect. You're alive, yes, and let's +say that you don't have the guts to take your own life; to just +flush it all away in a tidalwave of pills or with a few delicate +arcs of a razor. How are you going to live? + +Do you want to live alone? + +When I asked myself that question, my mind, of course, threw +myself back into the past where many, many people I've let +close to me had hurt me, scarred me in ways that still affect me. +"Of course", I had decided. "Alone sounds beautiful at times." +It hasn't been all bad experiences, however. Think down your +past, or present, perhaps. There's been a person who, at one time, +gave a damn about you, and possibly still does. Human companionship +is something that's kept me alive a few times. It's time to ask +yourself why you're not dead yet, but you want to die. +Well. +So. +You're still alive. + +Unconsciously, you're living for something, whether you like it or +not. Something is making you get up every day, and making you walk +past the loaded .44 that you have in your dresser drawer, and making +you pass by the large steak knife that has had no sole purpose in your +kitchen otherwise. What is it? In most cases, it's human +companionship. Perhaps you live for the injection of the needle into +you, every morning. Perhaps it's for the sex you can get with just +a question. Something is keeping you alive. + +Sometimes it's never a fun thing to question who you are, to dig +deep and analyze what makes you a person, but it's apparent from past +issues that many of you already know who you are, and that you're not +afraid to dwell deep into yourself when the moment calls for it. +So. Analyze what keeps you alive. It's something. Once you can label +what it is, keep that thought. Kindle it, keep it close to you and +shield it from any possible damage. Because if you lose that, then you +lose everything. Literally. All of it. + +Maybe the bleakness of death hasn't exactly looked you into the +face yet, or for some of you, maybe you awake finding death looking +at you. Either way, you're either foreign or familiar with it. Do you +fear it? I do. I believe there's nothing after death. No pretty +afterlife, sorry, no bright lights and angels. So I've made up my +mind that if I want to be happy, I'm going to go out and make myself +happy. I'm not about to sit on my ass and wait for a clown to walk +through my door and start tying balloon animals in front of my +face, while I sit, amused. Those sorts of things really don't happen. +I promise. And sometimes, I find that one person is the only thing +that makes me want to live. The fact that I have someone. At all. +And maybe I don't know what true happiness is. Everyone has a +different definition, but some people are fooling themselves while they +drown in their own pool of denial that they've made for themselves to +escape their reality, and to avoid the fact that there's still options +open. + +So, are you sitting in front of your monitor, thinking of +ways to die? Ways to get laid? Ways to be loved? Ways to have sex? +Ways to get high? Ways to avoid someone? Ways to confront someone? +Ways to spend the rest of your existence? + +Whatever makes you "happy". + + flood + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0422.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0422.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9cd2bf55 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0422.txt @@ -0,0 +1,190 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Random Acts of Kindness + ----------------------- + +I like guns. I don't know much about them, though. I couldn't even tell +you what type of gun I am holding. All I know is that it is a rifle. +With a laser scope of course. The best someone else's life could buy. + +I went to the gun shop yesterday. I walked up and down the glass cases +admiring the glint and shine off of the polished metal that lined the red +satin shelf lining. An ironic juxtaposition of color if you ask me. I +asked the old fat man behind the counter what he would recommend for a +high powered long range rifle. He spewed numbers and brand names out of +his pathetic mouth. I don't care. Show me one. What price range am I +looking for? The best. The fucking best. He cringed at my choice of +words and moved to the back of the store. He brought out the gun that I +am cradling in my arms now. It was pretty. I liked it. Only $3500 and +it would be mine. What about the ammunition? Expensive as well. I'll +take 100 rounds. He got them. He put them on the counter. Can I see +your ID was all he said. I didn't like that question. I didn't like him. +So I shot him in the head. + +The amount of blood and flesh that shot against the back wall was +interesting. I wanted to know what his fat ass ate for lunch, so I +looked. Even though I knew that I would see nothing because it was his +soul that was splattered against the glass, not his stomach. I chuckled. +That's okay. No big deal. I took the rifle and ammunition and left the +store. I felt good. I felt alive. I don't think that gun shop's owner +was feeling very alive. + +I bet you are wondering what I shot him with. I don't know. I told you, +I don't know anything about guns. I know how to load them and shoot them. +That is it. It was a small pistol. I took it off of some nigger gangster +that I killed the other day. I don't like nigger gangsters, they bother +me. He was walking down an alley downtown last weekend. He didn't even +see it coming. That's okay. All I needed was his gun. He should have +just given it to me, but alas no one really thinks about stuff like that. +It has served its purpose. + +After I left that gun shop I got on the bus. A big Greyhound style bus. +It was leaving the town where I live and was making a stop about 45 miles +away in this moderately sized plains town. It smelled like cow shit when +I arrived at my destination. I choose this particular town for my journey +because it had a cool name on the map. I knew it was perfect. + +The bank building was the only structure in town that was over 3 stories. +It was 15. A big building by that town's standards. It loomed over the +entire city like a giant guardian. If only they knew. I chucked silently +as I sat on the bus bench looking at it. I amuse myself. + +Perhaps you are wondering why I am here, in this quaint little backwards +city. I saw a bumper sticker the other day. It said something along the +lines of "Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty." +I liked it. I want to do that. It would be nice to contribute to society +in such a way. My new rifle is beautiful, and it is kind too. It's name +is Senseless. I named it after that bumper sticker. + +I took my bag and headed for the bank. When I got there I opened the door +for some lady and her child who was whining about getting a lollipop from +the teller. I gritted my teeth and smiled a twisted fake smile. I walked +to the elevator and pushed the up button. Inside I was alone. I like +being alone. When I am alone my only enemy is my thoughts. I can deal +with them though. Not much else. I got to the top floor and hit the +stairwell. Roof access was very easy to come by, I recall. Just a little +hinged plate at the top of the stairs. + +And that brings us back to now. With me, and my rifle, on the building +overlooking the town. The police station, the city park, the bank's drive +through, a local high school, and what appeared to be the town hangout for +the teenagers of the city, a small coffee shop looms before me. How +quaint. This town should be in a Rockwell painting or some other happy +sappy bullshit. + +I take out Senseless and caringly load the chamber with the first of one +hundred rounds. It is a semi-automatic rifle, so I load several more +rounds into the clip. I caress the stock and barrel and admire the +perfection of my new friend. Scanning the scene before me I spot several +police officers bullshitting around a cruiser. I hate police. I got a +ticket once and it made me angry. I decide to start my random acts of +kindness with them. I was going to shoot them and put them out of their +ignorance and misery. That would be kind to them. That would be kind to +everyone who gets tickets. I am excited. I love my new feeling of +goodness and kindness and love that I embrace. I am ready to do +something. + +Pop. Pop Pop Pop. Pop Pop. Pop. I admire the smoothness of the action +as several bullets escape from their metal prisons. It is amazingly +quiet. I watch as the entire group of pigs disappear in a hazy red cloud +of blood and gore. No one notices. No one cares. They just go on with +their lives. I am pleased. Drawing a crowd or a panic would make my plan +harder to complete. But then again, they were just cops, so who would +have really expected anything? + +It feels good, damn good. I really like the life that is pulsing through +my veins. I am addicted; addicted like never before in my life. I look +down at my hands expecting to see the blood that I imagine should be +there. There is nothing at all. Just the pure white flesh of my worn +hands. I embrace the rifle and clench the clip with my hand. It is warm +to the touch. Not the cold hard steel that was before, but warm and +alive. It is alive now. I gave it life and meaning and existence just +like it gave me the same. I exhale and feel my pounding heart deep within +my chest. I take out more rounds from the box in my bag. I gently kiss +each one as I slide them into the clip. There. I am ready. + +I hear a slight commotion below by the police station. They have +discovered the torn corpses of the police officers. There is shouting. I +must be very quick. I line up a teenager standing in dirty pants with a +skateboard by the coffee shop. I smirk as he notices the red dot on his +chest. Pop. That red dot transforms into a massive red hole, enlarged +and vibrant. He falls to the ground. Screams are everywhere as people +are falling to the ground in fear. Silly people, I am above you. That +just makes you better targets. Pop Pop Pop. Three more of the skater's +buddies join him. Pop Pop. A yuppie with his cell phone and his laptop +ceases to exist. So does his precious laptop. It flies through the air +in a comical flight routine and smashes on the concrete. + +I swing my rifle around, farther down the small strip mall where the +coffee shop is built. I see a liquor store. I can clearly make out the +man behind the counter looking out the window at the commotion. He +probably wants to see my ID. I don't like that. Pop. Glass shatters and +his head snaps back grotesquely. There's my ID, mother fucker. + +Bang! Concrete snaps off of the lip of the roof near me. I close my eyes +and grasp my head. The rifle falls from my grasp onto the roof. I have +been spotted. Police are shooting at me from the station. I duck down. +I must be careful now. People don't like me. I grab Senseless and move +to the opposite side of the roof, putting a large ventilation structure +between me and their line of sight. I reload the rifle. I stand up again +and look over the edge. I see the park. People are running and +screaming, hiding behind trees and under benches. It reminds me of a game +I used to play as a little kid. There was this rifle arcade game where +you shot the ducks and geese and deer as they ran across the screen. It +was very reminiscent of those carnival games. This was a lot like that, I +thought. I shot. A man with a briefcase fell to the ground and clutched +his shattered knee. I shot his hand. I began shooting at the multitudes +of pigeons that scattered the park. Nobody likes pigeons. Perhaps they +will be happy if I kill them. + +I move to the side of the roof facing the main street. I take aim at +cars and trucks and began shattering windows and destroying tires. I bet +frogger would have liked to have me on his side when he was trying to +cross that street. I think he would have liked what I was doing. I keep +pulling the trigger even though I hear that I am out of ammunition. My +mind races as I hear people coming up the stairs to the roof. I have a +feeling that my game is over, at least for now. I go over to the hatch in +the floor and watch as it slowly raises, revealing several very cautious +policemen scouting the scene. + +They see me, holding the rifle with a twisted smile on my face. They +begin yelling at me to drop the gun. They think that they have caught me. +They want to stop me from having fun, from being kind, from feeling alive +and existing. I can't do that. I won't let them stop me. I scream at +the top of my lungs. What it is I scream even I can't understand. It is +earsplitting and takes all of my energy to sustain. I stop and hear +shots, so I run to the side of the roof. I scream again, louder this +time. + +I have a secret. They don't know it. I will escape to live another day. +Now that I have found that which makes me alive. I will get away. They +can't stop me. They won't stop me. I hate them. They want me dead. +They don't want me to experience my new life and vitality and existence. +No! NO! NOO! They won't! Hahahahahaha! I laugh insanely. They don't +know my secret. They can't hurt me. You know why? + +Because I can fly... + +.: illusionary:. .: illusion@cyberrock.com :. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0423.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0423.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..182d0bb2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0423.txt @@ -0,0 +1,143 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + ...tbc... + _________ + + maybe i am wrong. + +maybe fuck is still the same. maybe nothing else has changed. + + but me. + + +there existed in my history a period where my fingers would get the shakes. +my ears would tune out everything else to try to find the clicking sound. +if i went a few hours without typing, if i did not get my daily dose of +radiation emitting from my twenty-one inch screen at work, i would be succumb +with a hunger not even food nor sex nor anything else could quench. + +i've been telling myself there has to be a better life, that in a few years i +may be at the point where i no longer need to depend upon the machine. a few +years may be turning soon into a few months. last week i had my first quasi- +dry week in 4 years. my work finally shipped me off to networking class at +the hilton. the first two days were spent in theory with no computer to work +on. by tuesday my fingers ached. they had not touched keys since Friday. +but for some reason i decided just to gaze at, but not to flip on, my home +PC. + +day 3 we hooked up the lab net with ciscos, bays, and 3coms. internal net +only. could i last the week without the Net? without email? configured the +routers with notebook pcs. minuscule doses of radiation, if any. no amounts +of chocolate could satisfy my cravings. didn't check voice mail either. and +i didn't bring my beeper. and i'm bad with phones. so basically for a week +i + + cut off all external forms of communication. + + and i survived. i read my books. + + now i have a whole new perspective on my work. + + i hate it! + +if i could only trash this keyboard. ram it through this insanely huge idol +of a monitor glaring at me. subtly controlling me. tiny shards of glass +could bounce off the springs as they uncompress and careen across my cube. +if only i could cut the tail on my mouse, slice circles from my much abused +sand-filled stress balloon, and tape them on for ears. i could yell + + "andele andele fly be free" + +at the top of my lungs. maybe just maybe i would have a better excuse to not +touch technology for a month, due to the bouncy walls that would then +surround me. for some reason i think at least there i would get a + + glimpse of peace. + + no traffic. no responsibility. + + no car that beeps at me when i turn the key, + telling me that it needs to be serviced. + + no cell phone + + nothing forcing me to stay connected where'er i go. + + because physically i couldn't go anywhere. + + but mentally mentally + + mentally mentally + + emotionally + + i would have the time + + to create a thousand universes + + and at the same time + + be present in every one. + +no Nashville calling about server problems that i did not create. no +listservs spewing senseless email about a topic long lost and forgotten, +long after i thought i sent in my unsubscribe. so now with my lungs filled +with air, ready to cry out for + + death to technology!!!!! + +i wonder why i am typing this now. that breath alone damns me in my +hypocrisy while my fingers continue to strike these keys. what would they +think, those who will read this? will they care? will they deem me insane, +or + + damn me in my shame? + +and if they do, will they think any different of me now then before? without +technology, would i then be less of a person, in their eyes? in mine own? +for many of them, as has been for me in the past, technology is not merely a +fascination, but a livelihood, a passion, a religion. and thus to them, +have i?... + + i have committed blasphemy. + +and if i plan in my future endeavors + to do away with technology in its entirety + +to the extent that a five year old asks "mother, what is that?" while +pointing to a p39 like when i recently heard one ask that at office max while +pointing to a word processor and in reply heard "dear, i think that's a +typewriter." + if i succeed in my future endeavors + + will they not say + +will not this five year old boy + who thinks tv is antiquated compared to his own home pc + + fill his lungs with air + + and shout with the top of his voice + + DEATH TO YT! + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0424.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0424.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a143bb34 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0424.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + enlightenment + ------------- + + i have moments where i understand everything + about life, the universe, and most importantly, + how the pattern weaves itself together so + tightly and unendingly. protons and quarks, + planets and poetry, music and literature, + calculus and algebra, freud and jung.. they all + become sewn together in my mind, and i can + see the threads that bind them, slim and shiny, + and i *know*, for one painful moment, why + everything is. + + then i lose it. + + less frequently, i have realizations about myself. + fortunately i rarely lose the lesson i learned + during that moment of self-enlightenment, but + they only happen once every few years, and the + periods between are fraught with inner pain and + an agonizing hollow sensation, as if i am merely + waiting for that next moment of knowing so that + i can piece together my reason for being before + i can go on with the actual business of living. + + i had one such moment yesterday. suddenly, everything + has become clear, and it is now, today, that the + business of living can begin. i feel an inner peace + so overwhelming that i can describe it only as a + quasi religious experience, but as an agnostic, i + cannot quite attribute this sensation to god or + buddha or anything of that nature. + + i have spent my entire life feeling alone. i know + that many others in this world have this same + experience, yet i felt different in a way that no + one seemed to be able to relate to. i have thoughts + that do not mesh with experience of others. my + past is dark and dirty. my brain works too quickly. + i can almost hear the thoughts and feelings of others. + i hallucinate. being around people is uncomfortable + for me because of these oddities that float around + in my mind. i feel like a freak. i thought that + i was depressed and unhappy, and that it was all + merely mental anguish that could be cured with a few + years therapy and some carefully chosen drugs. + + i was wrong. i am happy this way. i like being alone. + i like creating things at 3 a.m., coffee cup in + hand. i like writing long stories that i never + bother to get published. i like reading books + that hurt my brain and working out how the author + came to the conclusions she did. i like sketching + my odd thoughts on paper. i like observing people, + but not interacting with them. my existence is + entirely cerebral and internal to myself, and it + has become obvious that i am not capable of + sharing that, that no one in this world can + comprehend the things i say and do, and i am + quite happy this way. i don't need anyone. no one + needs to understand me, because i am not to be + understood. i only have to exist, and someday i + would like to find a way to share my inner world + with others, but not now. it isn't finished yet. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0425.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0425.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..08047dd2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0425.txt @@ -0,0 +1,73 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Mysteries We Understand + ----------------------- + +The majority of us, understand a lot of mysteries others do not. That being +the main dividing characteristics between us and them. However, within us, +there are mysteries only some of us understand and others do not. + +Some of those mysteries might be as simple or complicated as how a program +has a certain short cut, what loops are set up, or perhaps it is who someone +really is. Finding the answers to these mysteries might be as simple as +asking someone, or doing your research. Then there are the ones that are +much deeper, and ones that only us, as ourselves as individuals can +comprehend and figure out for ourselves. Those mysteries may include: +what is really important to us, what we will fight for, and what really we +could live without, and then do so. + +It is important to understand some mysteries, for us to succeed the way we +have chosen, others it is important that no one else figure out, if we are +to continue. Yet, there are others that just will seem mysteries until we +are so close to the end of it, that we will then see it in such vividity, +that we know the end is near. + +Mysteries are a part of life, we learn from an early age. Some of the keys +to those mysteries are revealed at an early age, as well. Such as the truth +behind the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny. Then there are +those that we stumble upon as we grow older ... and the keys to those +mysteries we have lost along the way. + +Curiosity is human nature, it is within every human being that they will +find themselves wondering about something or another. Feeling a compelling +urge to discover, uncover, or divulge a mystery, fact, or find. For a lot +of us, that same curiosity has gotten involved in the very things we are +currently active and partaking in. Others of us, it may have caused us +heartbreak, or something in our lives to shatter and fall apart, to never +be the same, again. Curiosity is not a crime, though some may make it seem +that way. They forget to stress, the means of indulging that curiosity is +what may get you into trouble, not the curiosity of it. + +If it was not for curiosity nothing would have ever been found, nor learned +for the desire to learn and find would not be there. Imagine a world that +would have gone undiscovered... A place that no one would ever want to know +anything... can you? + +Mysteries We Understand, may vary and the conclusion of those things we +have discovered through unlocking those mysteries may turn out to be slightly +different, but nevertheless, they are Mysteries We Understand. And, then +there are those that are not to be understood until revealed. + +- Kamria + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0426.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0426.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3f07d6c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0426.txt @@ -0,0 +1,160 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + love + ---- + +who would have thought, that the world could be so cold. + + i was walking along a dark alley. the time had slipped + away into the mist and all that was left was a slight + bit of sanity and the urge to follow my soul. i came to + a point of intersection. not knowing which way to take + i flipped a coin. suddenly a man appeared from beyond a + garbage can, "it's too bad the little things never + mattered in the end!" he shouted and then disappeared. + not realizing it, the coin feel to the ground and + landed hard on tails. i looked left and saw my world + below the fingertips. "this way to your grave." said an + old man wearing a top hat and a frown. behind me a + naughty word was spoken, "love! love!" and i turned to + see myself, standing before myself in a robe of black. + the man once again appeared from beyond the waste of + humanity "it doesn't really matter anyway! both roads + lead you to the same destiny!" fearing the man's words i + turned to love and followed my soul beyond myself where + i once stood. this time, life felt real, or was it the + way the cold wind as it beat against my heart. i poured + out onto a street where i plummeted against her. she + stood there in her long black gown with her long dark + hair looking as beautiful as she did the first moment i + ever laid my eyes upon her. "i miss you." she said + with a frown impaled across her skin. i wrapped my arms + around her and took her home, took her to love. sitting + down on her couch, resting her body across it's + comfort, she said "thank you for being such a great + friend." and my heart swooped into nothingness. i wish + that my heart were a tangible thing, so that i may + throw it into a pit a lava and feel it hurt. only then + can i feel the amount of pain i receive from just + thinking about your glory and my absence from it. i + said thank you and excused myself to the bathroom. i + put my hands under the sweet water emerging from the + faucet and then rubbed them across my face. i looked in + the mirror, water dripping from my form. "beyond what + light lives greater men than i? but, in the darkness, + they number in the thousands and do march about in my + head." madness, that is the keyword for this life. the + point at which nothing really seems and all seems at + once. curling up my bleeding fist i march back into the + living room which was empty to the breath. searching + around i found myself in her bedroom where i saw my one + true life long love laid stretched out against her + stomach, resting on the bed. she was half asleep and + could barely mutter "could you rub my shoulders?" + nothing pleased me more than making her happy. nothing + on this planet fills me with more joy than knowing she + is well. i crawled onto the bed and began exercising my + strength into her muscles. my cold hands caressed her + warm body with ever ounce of love i could muster. and + her, just laying there as if she is just getting a good + massage from her best friend while quickly falling + asleep. "mmmm, this is so great, don't stop." she + quietly moaned. "yes, my hands can bring pleasure to + any woman, and my tongue more, and the rest of me even + more, but my heart and love only bring distance and + solitude." i said trying to bring some ounce of + understanding to her. "mmmm.. ok..." she replied, not + hearing a word i spoke. once she stopped responding to + my hails i rubbed up and down her back once more and + then a rabbit crawl out from behind the pillows "she is + just a woman!" she shouted. "she has but flesh and + soul! two things you can find upon the skeleton of any + one of us!" "yes," i replied "but the world just seems + so empty without this one, every woman i set eyes on + fails to amount up to a grain of salt next to this one + true love of mine." i calmly replied. "you are such a + fool!" cried a clown standing over my shoulder. "LOOK + AT HER! do you think she can actually develop one ounce + of feeling towards you that you have towards her? NO!" + and my heart sobbed. meanwhile the lizard gardener was + whispering into her ear "...love you. so the time has + come to decide the fate of humanity. feel his pain + which is love, and feel your pain which is life. his + pain and yours, when combined, could bring you so much + happiness. feel the way he makes you happy now. you + could feel like this for the rest of your life, the + time he would spend with you, if you would only accept + him." then the whispering stopped and in a flash as she + awoke and turned to me in a fright, "did you here + something?" she panicked. "something about the way + your tears fall to the earth?" and understanding became + her. she looked at me with sad eyes and a tear rolled + off her cheek. "i understand, but you have to realize i + am forever alone. it doesn't matter if you are sincere + or the best thing for me. all that matters is that i + cannot get hurt any more. i cannot open myself up to + someone, only to have them fill me with pain and + suffering." she said with sad lips. "i am not like + that." i responded as i stood up, "i am not like that, + and you will never know what you will miss because you + never want to find out the pleasure i could bring you. + as for me, i will always know what i am missing. never + again will i know happiness as that which i feel from + just glancing upon your face, or thinking about your + beauty. from now until the day i die i shall carry + around with me a sad face, weighted heart and a + tortured soul." i dropped a grey rose on to the bed and + left the house never to return. + + years later, in a city far distant from the previous, i + was walking along a dark alley. the time had slipped + away into the mist and all that was left was a slight + bit of sanity and the urge to follow my soul. i came to + a point of intersection. not knowing which way to take + i flipped a coin. suddenly a man appeared from beyond a + garbage can, "i told you, only the foolish can be swept + up by love, it leads nowhere but to a painful death + filled with sorrow." i could only think about how right + he was as i stared so coldly down the alley to my left. + "it is time." said the old man wearing a top hat and a + smile. so i began my walk down the path of death when i + suddenly felt a gentle tapping on my shoulder. quickly + turning around i saw myself standing before myself + again. "she is waiting." i said to myself. with not a + moments thought i began running as fast as possible to + my right. i feel out onto a street, looking up i saw a + woman stare down at me and say "are you alright?" + standing up i brushed myself off and replied with a + "yes." then our eyes met and she stared hard into my + bones. "i have missed you." she said with a sadness + that only i could understand. she kissed me with all + the deep passion of love and the world feel to dust + around us. we stood alone in the universe, just holding + each other. my life for yours k, forever until the day + i die. + +who would have thought, that the world could be so warm. + +rage-303 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0427.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0427.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fe504b5f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0427.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + What Makes It So? + ----------------- + +Sitting in geometry class, going over the homework from the night before, +and telling us what proved theory should have been applied instead of what +we had put down. "Are there any questions?" No one raises their hands, this +goes on throughout the whole assignment, as I am still looking at the first +problem, wondering why must it be that way? Finally, he asks if there are +any questions whatsoever, before we move on, I rise my hand, and ask him, +"What makes it so? I mean, why do all of these proved theories have to be +only that way?" After a moment of the teacher looking at me in bewilderment, +and the other kids half-scoffing and rolling their eyes, as the other half +is almost asleep, it seems that I have caught the teacher off guard. He then +begins trying to explain the reasoning behind it, and I question it. As he +attempts this a couple of more times, and I repeat the questioning, he +suggests that I come in after class, or school, so we could discuss it +further, the bell rings, and everyone else jumps up - off to their next class. +I agree, and leave the room. + +* * * + +Laying downstairs on my sisters bed, going over lesson five of my Italian, I +ask my sister to explain to me why one adjective for short applies to a person +and the other applies to something else. After her trying to explain it, as +she could, I come across another adjective and wonder the same thing, asking +her again, I ask her why she does not really know. She explains, because +she never questioned the teacher, and if I really want to know, I should ask +the teacher tomorrow during class. Making a note, I did end up asking in +class the next day. + +* * * + +These are just two cases, where I wondered "What makes it so?" when everyone +else seemed to just accept whatever the person had said was fact, and move on. +People just accepted that that was the way things were, and I was standing +there asking why. + +If no one ever had asked why things were the way their were, we would never +have developed science, technology, or expanded our minds. However, there +are so many people these days, that just go along with what whoever says goes +and never questions it. A deafening of a culture, a deafening of +free-thought, a deafening of the human characteristic of curiosity. This is +not a good sign, it is a very dangerous sign in my eyes. + +It has been this same type of deafening and non-questioning attitude that +allowed horrible occurances such as the Holocaust, and other major wipe-outs +of culture and existance to happen. Because, people simply accepted it as +it was, and never questioned why it was happening or that it could be wrong. +Even though there were some, throughout the years that have questioned things +such as animal testing, pre-neutal testing, and things of that nature, there +are that many more that do NOT, and just go on thinking and accepting that +things are just the way they are and there is nothing we or anyone else can +do about it. + +Currently there is an ad on TV, that shows various clips of famous people, +that helped change and shape the world we live in, today. Because of those +people asking "Why?" and not just accepting things the way they were, things +changed. They believed they COULD make a difference, and to this day, that +difference has remained. Perhaps, not as strongly as it maybe should have, +however, because they believed they could change the world, and would not just +accept things because 'that's they way things are', the were able to impact +not only their lives, others, and even sometimes an entire nation or world! + +Sometimes questioning things too much is dangerous, though not questioning +things at all, is even more so. If you never find out "What makes it so?" +how can you ever help make things better? Or change things? Or remember +and understand why things are the way they are. It is important to know why, +and it is even more important to fully know "What makes it so?". + +- Kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0428.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0428.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2bc551ca --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0428.txt @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Crime and Punishment + -------------------- + + James is a 22 year old black male. He works 6 days a week at a + local health care facility, taking care of mentally retarded + adults. + On his days off, James likes to play basketball. One day, + the weather is so nice that James decides to walk to the court. + While taking a shortcut through the city park, 3 police + officers confront James and arrest him. It seems that several + minutes earlier, a woman was victimized by a purse snatcher. + Though she's not entirely sure, the woman positively identifies + James anyway. + + RESULT: Although they aren't entirely convinced, the jury + convicts James anyway. He is currently serving the 3rd year + of his 5 year sentence. + + + Walter is the CEO of a large airline. For several years, he has + been falsifying reports and purchasing black market equipment + in order to save money. + One day, his luck ran out and one of US-Global's plane's + crashes, killing 128 people. + The families of the victim's file a class action lawsuit + against US-Global. Walter has the best team of lawyers that + money can buy. The plaintiff's have the best lawyer minimum wage + can buy. + + RESULT: US-Global is found at fault and Walter is forced to pay + fines of $60 Million, almost 2% of US-Globals $2.5 Billion dollar + profit last year. + + + Stacy is a 16 year old heroin addict. She turned to drugs when + she was 13 to escape the turmoil of her parents divorce. Her + father routinely beat her mother and Stacy was forced to watch + this since she was 2 years old. + One day, Stacy is buying some crank when the DEA bursts + into the room. Stacy is caught in the crossfire and a bullet + strikes her spinal cord, paralyzing her from the waist down. + + RESULT: Stacy is sentenced to 5 years for heroin possession. + She is released after 3 1/2 years for good behavior. Homeless + and unable to get a job due to her paralysis, Stacy eventually + commits suicide by slicing her wrists with an old tin can. Her + obituary consist of 4 lines. 2 more than the number of people + that show up at her funeral. + + + Julio is a small town drug dealer. He began dealing to help pay + his college tuition and eventually dropped out because there was + more money to be had in narcotics than in accounting. + One day, while selling heroin to a young girl named Stacy, + Julio is raided by several DEA agents. Julio manages to kill + three agents before running out of bullets and surrendering. + + RESULT: Julio is let out on $75,000 bail put up by his suppliers. + He then leaves the country and goes to South America where he + works his way up through the ranks until he raises to the head + of operations of a new branch of the Fernandez drug cartel aimed + at hooking European pre-teens on narcotics. + + + Michael volunteers for several charitable organizations. He also + coaches the local soccer team and is president of the PTA. + At the urging of several friends, Michael runs for mayor of + his town. Realizing how popular he is within the community, no one + runs against him. Michael is elected unanimously and immediately + institutes a war to free his community of drugs. + One evening, several members of the local branch of the Fernandez + drug cartel come to Michael's home and make it clear that if he + doesn't end his little turn war, his family will suffer. Michael + promptly has them arrested and is hailed a local hero. + + RESULT: All but one of the drug dealers are let off on technicalities. + 3 days later, Michael and his 8 year old daughter Anna are killed + in a gang land style shooting. + + + Bill is an elected official. He regularly cheats on his wife, using + his position of power to intimidate women and coerce them into bed. + He also abuses alcohol and participates in illegal business investment + schemes. + One day a South American gentleman offers to provide Bill with + a large sum of money in exchange for a bit of Bill's political + influence. + + RESULT: Bill uses the money obtained from Senor Fernandez to run a + largely successful media blitz. He is eventually elected to the + president of the United States of America. Senor Fernandez is quite + happy with his investment. + + + Crime Pays. + + Anyone who tells you otherwise, wasn't a good criminal. + + -InVerse + inverse@mos.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0429.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0429.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ad3c93f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0429.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + It Was Only a Nightmare + ----------------------- + +It is one of those surreal days again. I'm driving around yet I don't +quite feel alive. It is like I'm in a semi dream state or maybe you +could say I was half awake. Course I just got nine hours of decent sleep +and didn't drink the night before so the dream effect came as a surprise. +These type of days get me think about life and what the hell I'm doing. +At the time I was heading to the grocery store but life was telling me +something only I couldn't figure what it was trying to say. + +It is another one of those days where I say to myself that maybe I'm just +having a nightmare. Or perhaps I bumped my head and I'm in a coma. +Pretty soon I will wake up, or someone will wake me, and I will be six +years old again. Yep, I will be six and will have just awaken from a bad +nightmare. And in a few hours, as I head off to preschool, I will have +forgotten all about the nightmare. However, it is hard to imagine +forgetting about a twenty-one year nightmare. + +It is one of those days where you want to rewind the clock and start +over. Six sounds like a good age so I guess that is the time frame my +mind puts me waking up. I wouldn't call it nostalgia because I don't +"yearn for the old days." I tend to believe it is the parental security +and the idea that I can start over. Too change my life and to do some +things differently. Kind of like the movie Groundhog Day with Bill +Murray where he repeated the day over and over again. Each day he tried +something different and by trial and error he finally got things "right." +In the end he became a better person and more importantly got to see the +results of his actions he wouldn't normally have tried. That gets me +thinking that maybe there are too many choices to be made these days. + +Ever see the movie THX 1138? Briefly it is a movie where all your +choices are made. It is big government ruling at an extreme. In fact +they go to such an extreme that your wife is chosen for you. How is that +for making some of life's tough decisions a little easier? The little +guy in me wants to wake up six years old again have some of those tough +decisions off his shoulders and be able to do things a little +differently. If everyone wanted an easier life something like the movie +THX 1138 would be the result. Some people might even argue that things +are already getting that way. Or that whiners like me, who are +indecisive, are getting all these horrible laws passed which allow the +government to make too many decisions for us already. Perhaps some day +the George Lucas world will become more real then we can or would like +to imagine. + +Unfortunately, though I can relate to movies better then the real world +outside my door, I have to accept the fact that reality is the here and +now; not twenty-one years ago nor several hundred year in the future +like in THX 1138. I won't be waking up today or any day as a six year +old thinking about the nightmare I just had. + +In a way it is a good thing that I can't or won't be going back to being +six because I don't know if I could do High School and College again even +if I did do things a little differently. Plus there have been a few +tough decisions I've made during my limited years. Maybe, given a second +chance and knowing the results, I wouldn't make the same choices I've +made in the past. Choices that have not only affected my life but have +touched a few others as well. + +So my desire to start over is more of an ideal that I would perhaps be +better off today by having made other choices then I did. I have yet +to find my purpose in life and something keeps telling me I missed a +turn somewhere along the road twenty-one or so years ago. Physically +or mentally I'm told I need go back and find the road untaken. When I +do perhaps I will learn why it is, was, or could have been such an +important part of my life. + +Out Of Time, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0430.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0430.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7185980e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0430.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + I Am Okay + --------- + + Hi. It's been awhile since I've written anything that hasn't +been assigned to me by a teacher to improve my grades. It's been awhile +since I've even felt motivated to write a piece about what has been +going on in my head. I've updated my online journal periodically, but +I haven't really written anything that I feel should be publicly +released. Until now. + Over the past couple of months, my life has changed a great +deal. I have moved away from my friends and entered Western Reserve +Academy, a prestigious boarding school in Hudson, Ohio. This school is +for the most part guaranteed to make my future bright and to bring in +mad cash flow as my adolescent years turn into adulthood. + But, it's not to say that there hasn't been some struggle with +this change. Indeed, there has been a great deal of it. + First off was saying bye to my friends. Though I knew I'd see +them again, nearly every weekend actually, I knew that I'd be missing +seeing their faces daily. Right now the impact of them not being around +has really settled in and I know that I miss seeing the familiarity +and complacency that I once held such contemptuous scorn for. I long for +the days when things were 'normal.' Things aren't quite so 'normal' anymore. +For better or for worse. + A few days before going up to school, I seized the day and +tried to start a relationship with a girl I'd been scoping out for +nearly 6 months. A few days after school started, the thing blew up +in my face. Needless to say, we are no longer together. + At first all of these changes totally ripped me apart. I was +away from and distanced from everyone and everything I loved. But I +figured out that there is a changeless core inside of me. A sense of +value and direction has overtaken my life and I am actively pursuing +setting roles and goals in my life, and coming through with commitments +to myself. The long term goal is mastery of self, and public victory. +A sense of honor is building inside of myself. + It would be easy to blame my environment for what was happening +to me and to let myself deteriorate into nothing. But I have chosen a +responsible stance and have come back with a vengeance. I will not let +my feelings control me, I will empower myself to act in the correct manner, +and I will become a better person because of it. Most people let others +act upon them without ever realizing that they hold the key to their +own happiness. I lived that way for too long. + So if right now you're kind of in a lull and you feel like you +are slipping towards depression, remember this. You are in charge of your +own destiny. You control your own life. Act or be acted upon. And finally, +remember, you are fundamentally okay. We are in charge of our own happiness. + +-dropcomm + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0431.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0431.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9dc7d882 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0431.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + They + ---- + + I hate waking up to the realization that I've lost something. +Particularly those first few moments of panic when I try in vain to remember +the last place I saw it. I backtrack mentally, through people and places and +time. It occurs to me that I can't remember when I last had it. The thoughts +whirl faster through my mind. How long has it been since I've seen it? How +could I not have noticed that it was gone? If I've gone on this long without +it, is it less important than I've always thought? How will I get by without +it? Will I ever find it, or is it gone forever? + That happened to me just this morning. I woke up and realized that I'd +lost myself. I don't know how long I've been gone, and can't remember the +last time I've seen me. Luckily, I have many other selves. Fitting into one +is as easily accomplished as stepping into a pair of jeans. Like jeans, some +selves are more comfortable than others. The self I wear depends on my +agenda for the day. My work self isn't very comfortable, the fabric is a bit +stiff and unforgiving. My family self is somewhat comfortable, but a little +too flowery for my taste, and too much pastel washes me out. My friend self +is bright and cheery, and so comfortable that sometimes it feels as if I'm +wearing nothing. But only sometimes. Then there's my alone self, the +techno-age me that hungers for knowledge and, given even a few moments of +solitude, submerges itself into a world of computers and networks and +protocols and code.While I enjoy the way this me feels, it's still not the +original me. I miss the person I used to be. + I was kind and considerate and giving. I would, and oftentimes did, +give my last dollar to a homeless person. They told me it was foolish and +called me an easy mark, so I stopped. I no longer give money to the +indigent. I no longer look at those people in their alcohol-stained clothing +and toothless grins and wonder what path they chose to lead them to those +ends. I no longer feel the pity and sympathy I once did. Instead I feel +contempt. + I was an idealistic dreamer. They told me to get my head out of the +clouds and act responsibly, so I stopped. I no longer stare at the walls and +daydream, my pencil tapping a relentless beat on the table top. I no longer +have the willingness to swallow my fear and take the risk, the risk that +quickens my heartbeat. Instead I feel apathy. + I was caring and selfless, and always there for those close to me. +Friends came to me regularly for advice, knowing I'd be there with a +shoulder to cry on and a willing ear. They told me to worry more about +myself and less about others, so I stopped. I no longer am able to offer +endless hours of advice and consolation. I no longer spend hours waiting for +someone's tears to dry from my sleeve. Instead I feel impatience. + I was open and honest. My soul shone through my eyes. I saw nothing +wrong with letting everyone know just how I felt. They told me I was leaving +myself open for hurt, that I was too vulnerable, so I stopped. I no longer +wear my heart on my sleeve. I no longer let you see how much your words +hurt. Instead, I show indifference. + They told me I'd change as I grew older, and they were right. They told +me that my perception were off, that the world wasn't the perfect place I +saw it as being, and they were right. I hate them for being right. Long ago, +I promised myself I'd never change. I'd grow, yes, but I'd never lose the +person I was. I was wrong. I hate me for being wrong. + Maybe I'll never again be what I once was. Maybe, in some apathetic, +indifferent stupor, I ripped apart my original self and used the fabric to +build the other, diluted selves. Everyone deserves a second chance, though. +So if you happen to see me out wandering in the cold darkness, please send +me home. It's lonely here without me. + + +krystalia + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0432.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0432.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5990fc0a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0432.txt @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Every City Loves the Night + -------------------------- + +I've never been to New York (except as a tourist) or Los Angeles (except as +a child), but I think every city loves the night. Austin does. I've been +here a few years now, and it's best after the sun goes down. + +It's not just the nightlife - which is generally recognized as awesome, but +I don't participate much - it's the life of the night. + +Last night I slammed the door behind me on accident, locked it, then stepped +down the porch into an alley, in West Campus, between 22nd and 22 1/2 Street. +Mostly college kids (mostly fucked up) live in this area. Lately, rich old +people and law firms have been buying real nice houses around here, too. + +I walked to campus, and sat in the grass for awhile. Everyone was gone, and +everything was still. Have you ever felt that stillness? Like everything is +stopped. A moment in time for you to play with. And it makes you kinda sad +and kinda excited. You have to open your mind to really understand the +beauty of it. + +With me, I sometimes get energized by it and that's when I decided to take +a walk. So I walked straight towards the state capital. I mean, I was walking +with a direction and with such passion that I felt like I was holding my own +little march. It's a straight shot from where I was sitting. + +When I got there I sat on the steps for a rest (i'm so fucking out-of-shape). +Then I headed east, into downtown Austin. They've done a good job with +downtown, keeping it peaceful, I mean. There are cops on bikes who drive +around, and patrol cars everywhere. It's clean, too. They have guys that +hose down the sidewalks every night. + +I walked up 16th until I got to the highway, which I crossed. East Austin is +my favorite neighborhood. A lot of Mexicans and students live out here. It's +Austin's socio-economically poorest area. I went into this coffee shop that I +know and ordered a mocha as I do every night, in true Generation X form. +I smoked and thought for awhile. + +Outside, I met a friend of mine, and we talked for awhile. But this guy +is such a fucking bore. I toyed with spitting in his face, but didn't. +He talked about how much he loved his girlfriend and how smart she was. He +said he changed his life, but I doubt it. He used to be hitting every night. +He showed me how to jack-back for the first time. Fucker. + +We parted and I went deeper into the Bario. I met this girl who was 19 and +a single mother. Living off welfare, and searching for a job. She +was a prostitute by night. I declined. I stopped by this apartment because +I heard a party going on inside, and they came out for some fresh. We talked +and they invited me in to smoke some weed. They were sophomores at the +university, and they were hanging this big confederate flag and snorting +coke and hitting hard. + +I left later. Stumbled into an alley and passed out again. + +The night seduces the city. He's smooth, and in control. The night removes +her inhibitions with ease, and slips into her swiftly. They are joined for +hours, loving, feeling, sexing. In the morning you can smell sex. + +Some nights it gets rough. After the night has had his way with the streets, +he drinks, and becomes violent. The dark fucking beats on you sometimes, man. +Do you feel that? The silence stabs me. + +I do love that first cigarette of the morning, as well. + + +w3rd + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0433.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0433.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e1af8f2a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0433.txt @@ -0,0 +1,718 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + You Need to Know This + --------------------- + + No doubt if you receive email, you have gotten at least one copy +of email with a bunch of weird/neat/useless/interesting facts. Over the +past year I have received six different ones. Here they are, all in one +format, with dupes weeded out (hopefully). Some of these will make you +wonder who had less time than you, and used it to figure some of this +out. :) + + +* The Eisenhower interstate system requires that one mile in + every five must be straight. These straight sections are usable + as airstrips in times of war or other emergencies. + +* The Boston University Bridge (on Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, + Massachusetts) is the only place in the world where a boat can + sail under a train driving under a car driving under an airplane. + +* The United States government keeps its supply of silver at the U.S. + Military Academy at West Point, NY. + +* There are only thirteen blimps in the world. Nine of the thirteen + blimps are in the United States. + +* Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds, while dogs only have + about ten. + +* Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and + ears never stop growing. + +* David Prowse was the guy in the Darth Vader suit in Star Wars. + He spoke all of Vader's lines, and didn't know that he was going + to be dubbed over by James Earl Jones until he saw the screening + of the movie. + +* Most Americans' car horns beep in the key of "F." + +* Camel's milk does not curdle. + +* "Mr. Mojo Risin" is an anagram for Jim Morrison. + +* The word "modem" is a contraction of the words "modulate, + demodulate." (MOdulateDEModulate) + +* Many hamsters only blink one eye at a time. + +* In every episode of Seinfeld there is a Superman somewhere. + +* The name Jeep came from the abbreviation used in the army for + the "General Purpose" vehicle, G.P. + +* Murphy's Oil Soap is the chemical most commonly used to clean + elephants. + +* Since 1896, the beginning of the modern Olympics, only Greece + and Australia have participated in every Games. + +* Barbie's measurements if she were life size: 39-23-33. + +* February 1865 is the only month in recorded history not to + have a full moon. + +* It takes a lobster approxiamately seven years to grow to be one + pound. + +* Montpelier, Vermont is the only U.S. state capital without a + McDonalds. + +* Giraffes have no vocal cords. + +* The Pentagon, in Arlington, Virginia, has twice as many bathrooms + as is necessary. When it was built in the 1940s, the state of + Virginia still had segregation laws requiring separate toilet + facilities for blacks and whites. + +* The cruise liner, Queen Elizabeth II, moves only six inches for each + gallon of diesel that it burns. + +* There are two credit cards for every person in the United States. + +* Isaac Asimov is the only author to have a book in every + Dewey-decimal category. + +* Roger Ebert is the only film critic to have ever won the Pulitzer + prize. + +* Columbia University is the second largest landowner in New York + City, after the Catholic Church. + +* Cat's urine glows under a blacklight. + +* An iguana can stay under water for 28 minutes. + +* Back in the mid to late 80s, an IBM compatible computer wasn't + considered a hundred percent compatible unless it could run + Microsoft's Flight Simulator. + +* The first Ford cars had Dodge engines. + +* Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors. + +* It takes about a half a gallon of water to cook macaroni, and + about a gallon to clean the pot. + +* In the last 4000 years, no new animals have been domesticated. + +* Babies are born without knee caps. They don't appear until the + child reaches 2-6 years of age. + +* The highest point in Pennsylvania is lower than the lowest + point in Colorado. + +* Nutmeg is extremely poisonous if injected intraveinously + +* If you have three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies, you + have $1.19. You also have the largest amount of money in coins + without being able to make change for a dollar. + +* The most common name in the world is Mohammed. + +* Michael Jordan makes more money from Nike annually than all of the + Nike factory workers in Malaysia combined. + +* No NFL team which plays it's home games in a domed stadium has ever + won a Superbowl + +* The first toilet ever seen on television was on "Leave It To Beaver". + +* In the great fire of London in 1666 half of London was burnt down + but only 6 people were injured + +* Lincoln Logs were invented by Frank Lloyd Wright's son. + +* One of the reasons marijuana is illegal today because cotton growers + in the 30s lobbied against hemp farmers -- they saw it as + competition. + +* The only two days of the year in which there are no professional + sports games (MLB, NBA, NHL, or NFL) are the day before and + the day after the Major League All-Star Game. + +* Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older. + +* The name Wendy was made up for the book "Peter Pan." . + +* If you toss a penny 10000 times, it will not be heads 5000 times, + but more like 4950. The heads picture weighs more, so it ends up + on the bottom. + +* The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher. + +* The housefly hums in the middle octave, key of F. + +* A pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes. + +* Los Angeles's full name is "El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de + los Angeles de Porciuncula." + +* Mel Blanc (the voice of Bugs Bunny) was allergic to carrots + +* The band Duran Duran got their name from an astronaut in the 1968 + Jane Fonda movie "Barbarella". + +* Al Capone's business card said he was a used furniture dealer. + +* A pregnant goldfish is called a twit. A whale's penis is called + a dork. + +* The Ramses brand condom is named after the great pharaoh + Ramses II who fathered over 160 children. + +* Dueling is legal in Paraguay as long as both parties are registered + blood donors. + +* The characters Bert and Ernie on Sesame Street were named after Bert + the cop and Ernie the taxi driver in Frank Capra's "Its A Wonderful + Life" + +* Wilma Flintstone's maiden name was Wilma Slaghoopal, and Betty + Rubble's maiden name was Betty Jean Mcbricker. + +* Armored knights raised their visors to identify themselves when they + rode past their king. This custom has become the modern military + salute. + +* Charles Lindbergh took only four sandwiches with him on his famous + transatlantic flight. + +* Playing cards were issued to British pilots in WWII. If captured, + they could be soaked in water and unfolded to reveal a map for + escape. + +* The Sanskrit word for "war" means "desire for more cows." + +* The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law which + stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than + your thumb. + +* 'Stewardesses' is the longest word that is typed with only the + left hand. + +* To escape the grip of a crocodile's jaws, push your thumbs into its + eyeballs -- it will let you go instantly. + +* A group of unicorns is called a blessing. + A group of frogs is called an army. + A group of rhinos is called a crash. + A group of kangaroos is called a mob. + A group of whales is called a pod. + A group of geese is called a gaggle. + A group of ravens is called a murder. + A group of officers is called a mess. + A group of larks is called an exaltation. + A group of owls is called a parliament. + Twelve or more cows are known as a flink. + +* Physicist Murray Gell-Mann named the sub-atomic particles known as + quarks for a random line in James Joyce, "Three quarks for + Muster Mark!" + +* Every time you lick a stamp, you're consuming 1/10 of a calorie. + +* "Three dog night" (attributed to Australian Aborigines) came + about because on especially cold nights these nomadic people + needed three dogs (dingos, actually) to keep from freezing. + +* The word "queueing" is the only English word with five consecutive + vowels. + +* The two longest one-syllable words in the English language are + "screeched" and "strengths." + +* The longest word in the Oxford English Dictionary is + "floccinaucinihilipilification," which means "the act of estimating + as worthless." + +* The abbreviation for pound, "lb.," comes from the astrological sign + Libra, meaning balance, and symbolized by scales. + +* The Chinese ideogram for 'trouble' symbolizes 'two women living + under one roof'. + +* In Chinese, the words for crisis and opportunity are the same. + +* Clans of long ago that wanted to get rid of their unwanted people + without killing them use to burn their houses down - hence the + expression "to get fired." + +* A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why. + +* In the 1940s, the FCC assigned television's Channel 1 to mobile + services (two-way radios in taxicabs, for instance) but did not + re-number the other channel assignments. That is why your TV set + has channels 2 and up, but no channel 1. + +* The "save" icon on Microsoft Word shows a floppy disk, with the + shutter on backwards. + +* The combination "ough" can be pronounced in nine different ways. + The following sentence contains them all: "A rough-coated, + dough-faced, thoughtful ploughman strode through the streets + of Scarborough; after falling into a slough, he coughed and + hiccoughed." + +* The verb "cleave" is the only English word with two synonyms + which are antonyms of each other: adhere and separate. + +* The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a + letter is uncopyrightable. + +* Facetious and abstemious contain all the vowels in the correct + order, as does arsenious, meaning "containing arsenic." + +* Emus and kangaroos cannot walk backwards, and are on the Australian + coat of arms for that reason. + +* Cats have over one hundred vocal sounds, while dogs only have + about ten. + +* The word "Checkmate" in chess comes from the Persian phrase + "Shah Mat," which means "the king is dead". + +* Pinocchio is Italian for "pine head." + +* An animal epidemic is called an epizootic. + +* The United States has never lost a war in which mules were used. + +* Blueberry Jelly Bellies were created especially for Ronald Reagan. + +* All porcupines float in water. + +* Hang On Sloopy is the official rock song of Ohio. + +* Did you know that there are coffee flavored PEZ? + +* Lorne Greene had one of his nipples bitten off by an alligator + while he was host of "Lorne Greene's Wild Kingdom." + +* If you bring a raccoon's head to the Henniker, New Hampshire + town hall, you are entitled to receive $.10 from the town. + +* The reason firehouses have circular stairways is from the days + of yore when the engines were pulled by horses. The horses were + stabled on the ground floor and figured out how to walk up + straight staircases. + +* Non-dairy creamer is flammable. + +* The airplane Buddy Holly died in was the "American Pie." (Thus + the name of the Don McLean song.) + +* Texas is the only state that is allowed to fly its state flag + at the same height as the U.S. flag. + +* The only nation whose name begins with an "A", but doesn't end + in an "A" is Afghanistan. + +* Pamela Anderson Lee is Canada's Centennial Baby, being the first + baby born on the centennial anniversary of Canada's independence. + +* When opossums are playing 'possum, they are not "playing." They + actually pass out from sheer terror. + +* The Main Library at Indiana University sinks over an inch every year + because when it was built, engineers failed to take into account the + weight of all the books that would occupy the building. + + +* 111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321 + +* If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs + in the air, the person died in battle; if the horse has one front + leg in the air, the person died as a result of wounds received in + battle; if the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person + died of natural causes. + +* No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, + and purple. + +* Canada is an Indian word meaning "Big Village". + +* Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, + John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on + August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later. + +* "I am." is the shortest complete sentence in the English language. + +* The term "the whole 9 yards" came from WWII fighter pilots in the + South Pacific. When arming their airplanes on the ground, the .50 + caliber machine gun ammo belts measured exactly 27 feet, before + being loaded into the fuselage. If the pilots fired all their ammo + at a target, it got "the whole 9 yards." + +* The most common name in the world is Mohammed. + +* The word "samba" means "to rub navels together." + +* The international telephone dialing code for Antarctica is 672. + +* Until 1965, driving was done on the left-hand side on roads in + Sweden. The conversion to right-hand was done on a weekday at + 5pm. All traffic stopped as people switched sides. This time and + day were chosen to prevent accidents where drivers would have + gotten up in the morning and been too sleepy to realize that + *this* was the day of the changeover. + +* The very first bomb dropped by the Allies on Berlin during + World War II killed the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo. + +* Dr. Seuss pronounced "Seuss" such that it rhymed with "rejoice." + +* In Casablanca, Humphrey Bogart never said "Play it again, Sam." + +* Sherlock Holmes never said "Elementary, my dear Watson." + +* More people are killed annually by donkeys than die in air crashes. + +* The term, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye" is + from Ancient Rome. The only rule during wrestling matches was, + "No eye gouging." Everything else was allowed, but the only way + to be disqualified was to poke someone's eye out. + +* A 'jiffy' is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second. + +* The average person falls asleep in seven minutes. + +* Hershey's Kisses are called that because the machine that makes them + looks like it's kissing the conveyor belt. + +* Money isn't made out of paper, it's made out of cotton. + +* The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from and old English law + which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything + wider than your thumb. + +* An ostrich's eye is bigger that it's brain. + +* The longest recorded flight of a chicken is thirteen seconds + +* In Cleveland, Ohio, it's illegal to catch mice without a + hunting license. + +* Dr. Seuss coined the word "nerd" in his 1950 book "If I Ran the Zoo" + +* It takes 3000 cows to supply the NFL with enough leather for a + year's supply of footballs. + +* Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating + are already married. + +* There are an average of 178 sesame seeds on a McDonald's Big Mac bun. + +* The world's termites outweigh the world's humans 10 to 1. + +* Pound for pound, hamburgers cost more than new cars. + +* The 3 most valuable brand names on earth: Marlboro, Coca-Cola, + and Budweiser, in that order. + +* When Heinz ketchup leaves the bottle, it travels at a rate of 25 + miles per year. + +* It's possible to lead a cow upstairs...but not downstairs. + +* The Bible has been translated into Klingon. + +* Humans are the only primates that don't have pigment in the palms + of their hands. + +* Ten percent of the Russian government's income comes from the + sale of vodka. + +* Ninety percent of New York City cabbies are recently arrived + immigrants. + +* On average, 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens every year. + +* In 10 minutes, a hurricane releases more energy than all the world's + nuclear weapons combined. + +* Reno, Nevada is west of Los Angeles, California. + +* Average age of top GM executives in 1994: 49.8 years. +* Average age of the Rolling Stones: 50.6. + +* Elephants can't jump. Every other mammal can. + +* The cigarette lighter was invented before the match. + +* Five Jell-O flavors that flopped: celery, coffee, cola, + apple, and chocolate. + +* According to one study, 24% of Iawns have some sort of lawn + ornament in their yard. + +* Internationally, Baywatch is the most popular TV show in history. + + +* Coca-cola was originally green. + +* Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than for the US + Treasury. + +* Smartest dogs: 1)border collie 2)poodle 3)golden retriever + +* Dumbest dog: Afghan + +* The Hawaiian alphabet has 12 letters. + +* Men can read smaller print than women; women can hear better. + +* Chances that an American lives within 50 miles of where they grew + up: 1 in 2 + +* Amount American Airlines saved in '87 by taking out 1 olive from + each salad served in first class: $40,000 + +* City with the most Rolls Royce's per capita: Hong Kong + +* State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: + Alaska + +* Chances of a white Christmas in New York: 1 in 4 + +* Portion of US annual rainfall that falls in April: 1/12 + +* Percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28% + +* Percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38% + +* Estimated % of American adults who go on diet each year: 44% + +* Average number of days a West German goes without washing his + underwear: 7 + +* Percentage of Americans who say that God has spoken to them: 36% + +* Percentage of Americans who regularly attend religious + services: 43% + +* City with highest per capita viewership of TV evangelists: + Washington DC + +* Percentage of American men who say they would marry the same woman +* if they had it to do all over again: 80% + +* Percentage of American women who say they would marry the same + man: 50% + +* Percentage of men who say they are happier after their divorce or + separation: 58% + +* Percentage of women who say they are happier after their divorce or + separation: 85% + +* Number of different family relationships for which Hallmark makes + cards: 105 + +* Cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $6,400 + +* Average number of people airborne over the US any given hour: + 61,000. + +* Percentage of Americans who have visited Disneyland or Disney + World: 70% + +* Average life span of a major league baseball: 6 pitches. + +* Coca-cola was originally green. + +* Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than for the US + Treasury. + +* Smartest dogs: 1)border collie 2)poodle 3)golden retriever + +* Dumbest dog: Afghan + +* The Hawaiian alphabet has 12 letters. + +* Men can read smaller print than women; women can hear better. + +* Chances that an American lives within 50 miles of where they grew + up: 1 in 2 + +* Amount American Airlines saved in '87 by taking out 1 olive from + each salad served in first class: $40,000 + +* City with the most Rolls Royce's per capita: Hong Kong + +* State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: + Alaska + +* Chances of a white Christmas in New York: 1 in 4 + +* Portion of US annual rainfall that falls in April: 1/12 + +* Percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28% + +* Percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38% + +* Estimated % of American adults who go on diet each year: 44% + +* Average number of days a West German goes without washing his + underwear: 7 + +* Percentage of Americans who say that God has spoken to them: 36% + +* Percentage of Americans who regularly attend religious + services: 43% + +* City with highest per capita viewership of TV evangelists: + Washington DC + +* Percentage of American men who say they would marry the same woman +* if they had it to do all over again: 80% + +* Percentage of American women who say they would marry the same + man: 50% + +* Percentage of men who say they are happier after their divorce or + separation: 58% + +* Percentage of women who say they are happier after their divorce or + separation: 85% + +* Number of different family relationships for which Hallmark makes + cards: 105 + +* Cost of raising a medium-size dog to the age of eleven: $6,400 + +* Average number of people airborne over the US any given hour: + 61,000. + +* Percentage of Americans who have visited Disneyland or Disney + World: 70% + +* Average life span of a major league baseball: 7 pitches. + +* Portion of ice cream sold that is vanilla: 1/3 + +* Portion of potatoes sold that are French fried: 1/3 + +* Percentage of Americans that eat at McDonald's each day: 7 + +* Percentage of bird species that are monogamous: 90% + +* Percentage of mammal species that are monogamous: 3% + +* Number of US states that claim test scores in their elementary + schools are above national average: 50% + +* Portion of Harvard students who graduate with honors: 4/5 + +* Chances that a burglary in the US will be solved: 1 in 7. + +* Portion of land in the US owned by the government: 1/3 + +* Only President to remain a bachelor: James Buchanon + +* Only first lady to carry a loaded revolver: Eleanor Roosevelt + +* Only President to win a Pulitzer: John F. Kennedy for "Profiles + in Courage" + +* Only President awarded a patent: Abe Lincoln, for a system of + buying vessels over shoals + +* Only food that does not spoil: honey + +* Only person to win $64,000 Challenge and $64,000 Question: + Dr. Joyce Brothers (subject is boxing) + +* Only bird that can fly backwards: Hummingbird + +* Only continent without reptiles or snakes: Antarctica + +* Only animal besides human that can get sunburn: pig + +* Ostriches stick their heads in the sand to look for water. + +* An eagle can kill a young deer and fly away with it. + +* In the Caribbean there are oysters that can climb trees. + +* Polar bears are left-handed. + +* Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair. + +* Eskimos never gamble. + +* The world's youngest parents were 8 and 9 and lived in + China in 1910. + +* The youngest pope was 11 years old. + +* Mark Twain didn't graduate from elementary school. + +* Proportional to their weight, men are stronger than horses. + +* Pilgrims ate popcorn at the first Thanksgiving dinner. + +* Jupiter is bigger than all the other planets in our solar + system combined. + +* Hot water is heavier than cold. + +* The parachute was invented by da Vinci in 1515. + +* They have square watermelons in Japan. They stack better. + +* Cream does not weigh as much as milk. + +* Starfish have eight eyes-one at the end of each leg. + +* Iceland consumes more Coca-cola per capita than any other nation. + +* First novel ever written on a typewriter was "Tom Sawyer." + +* There are more collect calls on Father's Day than any other day of + the year. + +* Heinz Catsup leaving the bottle travels at 25 miles per year. + +* It is possible to lead a cow upstairs but not downstairs. + +* Men get hiccups more often than women. + +* Armadillos can be housebroken. + + +- Compiled by d1s + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0434.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0434.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7d93962d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0434.txt @@ -0,0 +1,142 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + mercurial temperament + --------------------- + + "Stars look nice tonight, don't they?" + + Laura looked at her boyfriend, Paul, and mentally groaned. + + "Yeah, they look great. Can you hand me that lighter?" + + Paul tossed his lighter at Laura and it caught her squarely in between + her eyes. She swore and glared at him. + + "You have about as much grace as an elephant on crack, Paul." + + "Jesus, Laura, what it with you tonight? I can't seem to say or do + anything right today." + + Laura zipped up her coat and pulled on the door handle of Paul's + ancient Chevy. Nothing happened. + + "Dammit, Paul. I thought you got this door fixed." + + "It *was* fixed. I think you just trashed it again. Here, let me get out + and open the door for you. I think we need to take a walk." + + Laura rolled her eyes and watched Paul as he got out of the car and + walked around the front. He was a good-looking guy. Longish blond + hair, intense blue eyes, nice physique. + + "Come on. Let's take a walk." + + Laura stepped out of the car and lit a Kamel, the red brand they brought + back because "it tastes good". Paul reached for her hand but she put + it in her coat pocket. For a moment she watched her breath cloud + the crisp air. + + "Laura, please, tell me what is going on." + + Laura sighed deeply. "I think we should break up." + + "Why? I love you. What have I done to make you so angry?" + + "Nothing, not really. I just don't think that you and I are right for each + other, that's all." + + "Oh, and who *is* right for you, Laura? Michael?" + + Laura's blue eyes blazed and she turned to face Paul. + + "As a matter of fact, he is perfect for me! He is not clumsy or stupid, + he actually has a mind and he can use it, too. It's not something I + would expect you to understand." + + "I see. And he is so perfect that he ignored you for 3 years while you + were going through hell with that eating disorder and taking all sorts + of anti-depressants. That doesn't make any sense, Laura." + + "He had his own issues to work out." Laura tossed her Kamel in the snow + and lit another. + + "Excuses, always making excuses. So I'm clumsy. So I don't write + beautiful words designed to make you lust after me. So what, Laura? + I stuck by you, loved you, dealt with all of your bullshit. Why did I do + that Laura?" + + "I dunno. Because you wanted to get laid?" + + "Fuck you. You know it was more than that. It is because I love you and + want to see you be happy. Just because I am not Michael does not mean + that I am not worthy of you." + + "That's your opinion. I love Michael, and I want to go back to him. No, + quit crying. You were a convenience, nothing more. He is ready for me, + and I am going to go him, and no amount of tears can convince me that you + are the right one for me. Your soul isn't beautiful enough. You are too + plain." + + "Fine, if that's the way you want it, then be that way. I don't want to + hear from you when he abandons you again." + + "Whatever, Paul. Just take me home." + + They went home in silence. + + + [ two years later ] + + "Happy anniversary, Laura." Michael dropped a rose into Laura's lap. + + "I wrote a poem for you, today, darling. Would you like me to get you + some champagne? I can read it to you, if you want." + + Laura frowned. "Sure, that's fine, Michael." + + Michael returned with the champagne and poured a small amount into + her glass. She watched the bubbles race happily to the surface. + + "What's wrong, my darling? Did you have a bad day?" + + "Michael, we need to talk." + + "Certainly. What is it?" + + "Things aren't working out between us. I think we need to break things + off." + + "But why? Everything has been wonderful between us for the last two + years. What changed your mind?" + + "Well, I ran into Paul at the cafe the other day, and I realized that this + romantic stuff just isn't me.. I prefer someone like Paul, honest and + sensible. You always have your head in the clouds." + + T H E E N D + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + http://www.demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0435.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0435.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2d53de61 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0435.txt @@ -0,0 +1,89 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Privacy + ------- + + What is privacy? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The notion that you +have any sort of privacy is ludicrous. Don't think for one second that +you do. If you do this, you won't be surprised when you learn that simple +fact. + + Why do I bring this up? Just a friendly warning to you so that you +can prepare for this little thing and make any arrangements you think +would help. First off, I am just an ordinary guy, no special powers, no +special ability to invade privacy really. But, since I am a little more +technically inclined than the average citizen, I could be your worst +nightmare. + Sitting here on my balcony right now, I am capable of invading +thousands of people's privacy in a matter of seconds. My laptop has a +POCSAG decoder attached through the serial port as well as a radio shack +scanner. Every few seconds I get anywhere up to thirty pages across my +screen. In most cases I am getting the numeric numbers, but occasionally +I can read full alphanumeric pages. If I am so inclined, I could use my +cell phone to call any one of these people back and tell them exactly +what they paged, the capcode of the pager that received it, the time the +paging network sent out the page, and more. + Next to my laptop is another Realistic scanner that is monitoring +all cordless phone traffic in my entire neighborhood. Everything from +plans during the week, to soap opera gossip, to a little talk about sex +is caught by the scanner. If I was really bored, I could interrupt their +conversation and tell them what I thought. Next to that is another Realistic +scanner monitoring all cellular traffic within miles of here. Cellular +conversation tends to be a little more interesting as people are more +concise and to the point. + The three cell phones lying on the edge of the balcony each +allow us to call anywhere we want, absolutely free. Every once in a while +we will hook them up to the computer and reprogram the NAM info. The +NAM info is what the cell company uses to identify your phone. Also on the +edge of the balcony is a set of binoculars in case there is any movement +in any of the windows nearby. + Just a few feet from our building is a small telco box containing +the lines of all the land lines in the area. Anyone picking up their home +phone to make a call, I could listen if I wanted. All it would take is +my lineman's handset and a few minutes. If a neighbor just happens to +have a radio of any sort, that would be picked up with one of the scanners. + + So, if you are using a ground line, cordless phone, cell phone, +pager, or radio, I can listen. If you have your blinds open, I can see +you. If I want more info, I can use almost any of the above info in one +way or another to get the rest of your information. + + If we go a step beyond, and use government level equipment, we +can do quite a bit more. With a laser based microphone listening device, +I can sit half a mile from your house, and bounce this laser against your +window which would let me listen to everything you say. With a few thousand +dollars I can get a scope that allows me to see through your walls. A +few more thousand and I add a VanEck device and monitor anything that +crosses your computer monitor, everything you type into your keyboard. +If I go high enough, I can even read the contents of your RAM.. from +several yards away. + On the other side of the game, you have less and less measures +available to ensure your privacy. Beyond that are technologies that I +can only start to imagine about. Radical new methods of surveillance +allowing better and more accurate monitoring of more people. They are +out there.. trust me. + + +anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0436.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0436.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a8c7efa6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0436.txt @@ -0,0 +1,169 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Predicament + --------------- + A work of Fiction + + +I was out of munchies. Goddamn, I hate being out of munchies. I work at +home as a mechanical engineer. It's just me, my CATIA workstation, and +the junk food. Except, of course, that there was no junk food left. It +was late at night, but it was still warm outside, so I decided to take the +Jeep down to 7-11 to get some grub. + +As I pulled up, I saw that there was some entertainment at 7-11 tonight. +Around the side of the building, behind the payphones, these two fellows +were fighting. Well, one of them was fighting. One of them was just +getting the hell beaten out of him. + +I removed the clip from my Glock and put the Glock in the glove +compartment while placing the clip underneath the seat. This didn't look +like anything I couldn't handle, and I really didn't need any legal +trouble. + +As I walked over to take advantage of this combat opportunity, I caught +enough of the conversation to make out what was going on. The smaller +fellow on the ground was a drug dealer; the large fellow kicking him in +the abdomen was one of his customers. It seemed the larger fellow wanted +some merchandise, but owed his supplier money. The dealer wouldn't give +the fellow any more merchandise until he was paid. The customer decided +to take a short cut to his particular high by beating a supply out of his +dealer. None of this meant anything to me; this was just an opportunity +to beat the hell out of someone without any real fear of legal +prosecution. + +The dealer was up on his knees and the thief was on one leg, the other leg +moving quickly towards the dealers unprotected face. This all ended when +I swept the thief's leg out from underneath him. The dumb bastard ended +up on the concrete staring up at me like a wounded puppy. + +Soon enough he was whining at me, wanting to know what the hell I had done +that for. I came for adrenaline, not dialog, so I explained it to him by +saying "Shut up" using the same voice that works so well on my doberman +pinscher. The junkie did shut up, but he also attempted to stand up. One +good kick to his right temple and the junkie was back on the ground +grasping the side of his head in agony. I clarified my position for his +benefit by yelling "Shut up and stay down." + +The dealer started babbling what I believe were his thanks, to which I +politely responded "Shut the fuck up." It was then that I was saved from +further dialog with these degenerate desperadoes by the sight of flashing +red and blue lights approaching me from behind. + +The officers politely explained to me that I should "Get my fucking hands +in the fucking air right fucking now" and I complied gracefully. + +Then the bullshit began. The officers, now in four squad cards plus a +roving patrol vehicle, took both of the others aside and questioned them. +No one was questioning me, so I listened intently to the two other +conversations. They weren't exactly quiet. + +And this is where the story gets good. It turns out that the merchandise +was dropped on the ground sometime during the altercation. Probably the +dealer threw it away it an attempt to avoid being caught with it. The +police had found the merchandise and they knew immediately that this was a +drug deal gone wrong. The thief was claiming that he owed the dealer some +money, and the dealer had attempted to muscle it out of him. The police, +not oblivious to the fact that he outweighed the other guy by a good fifty +pounds, were not buying it. + +What makes this a good story is the dealer. The dealer immediately +parroted the thief's story. He claimed that the thief, not he, was the +dealer. He claimed that he was only a buyer, and the other fellow was the +dealer. He claimed that the other fellow assaulted him when he couldn't +pay for the merchandise. + +Buying is a petty offense. The fool who was nailed for buying wasn't +likely to do any time. The fool who ended up being convicted for dealing +was facing several years in federal prison. + +It turns out I was saved by the clerk, who had seen me before and had +called the police. He told the police my involvement was only in breaking +up the fight. The police didn't have the least bit of interest in me, +except as a witness. + +Then the time came for my questioning. They had just one question: + + "Which one is the dealer?" + +I am always careful when speaking with police officers. It was nothing +more than good habits learned from years on the street which kept me from +replying immediately. But then I stopped to think. + +I held a great deal of power at that point. In the next few moments, I +was most likely going to sentence one man to probation and another to +prison. + +One of these men was a drug addict with so little control of his desires +he was willing to resort to violence to feed his chemical dependency. The +other man was a drug dealer, the sort of man who preys upon the weaknesses +of others. + +Then it all snapped into place. One of these men was a businessman. He +was selling a product. He did not force the other man to purchase his +product. He did not commit assault on the other man. He did nothing at +all to anyone without their consent. The other man was a thief. He +knowingly and carelessly violated the rights of the other man. That man +was an animal. Discipline is what makes us human. Disciplined control +over our own selves. This addict was not capable of such discipline; he +had given control of his life over to the drugs. + +I am a businessman. I sell the designs that I produce. I do not force +anyone to buy my products. If one of my customers attempted to take my +product by force, I would stop them by any means necessary. The drug +dealer and I, we are the same in many ways. It is simply that CATIA is +legal and cocaine isn't. One day, mechanical engineering may be illegal. +That doesn't mean it will then be okay for a customer to attempt to beat +designs out of me at some 7-11 in the middle of the fucking night. + +So, I lied. The police officer took my statement and everything was +settled. The dealer was charged with attempting to purchase a controlled +substance. The thief was charged with assault and attempting to sell a +controlled substance. + +Was what I did wrong? I don't think so. I believe the end justified the +means. The thief committed acts that were inherently wrong, while the +dealer committed acts that were simply illegal. + +Would I do it again? Yes. + +Am I worried? I may be called to testify, and if so I will stick to my +story. I am an upstanding citizen. Who are they going to believe, me or +the drug addict? Am I worried about recriminations from the drug addict? +Well, that would make another fine opportunity for entertainment. It is +difficult for me to be scared of someone who can't even control the needs +of his own body. + +The one thing I do wonder about is what the hell the real drug dealer +thought when he heard me lie to save his neck. I don't imagine drug +dealers are accustomed to random acts of kindness from strangers. I just +hope he doesn't want to repay his debt. Friends like that, I do not need. + + -- Thom Hobbes + + + + by + Voyager[TNO] + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0437.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0437.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e28c2d7b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0437.txt @@ -0,0 +1,389 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Death: He Deserved It + --------------------- + +Fact or fiction. I think it's fact. But it's been so long I can't +remember the details. Actually I know it's fact, I'm the main character +so I guess I'll tell it in the first person . . . I don't know. I'm +feeling a bit weird right now. I'm sick like a dog and I've been +staring at one of various flickering computer screens for about ten +hours today. There was no one at work today to slack off with. + +Ok, here we go. Strap 'em on if ya got 'em. I'm going to be your +narrator. Think of it all coming from a disinterested and tired voice. +Very long pauses for the periods. Slow, but not monotone. Anyway . . . + +--------------- + +I was 17, a high school senior, and labeled a rebel by classmates and +teachers alike. I wasn't the Jimmy Dean rebel I was the outcast, the +miscreant. I wasn't a sex symbol. I'm not now. I won't ever be. I +had four friends throughout my highschool career and one girlfriend. I +didn't choose it to be, it just was. I didn't think about it until +later in life. It was queer but not uncommon. + +1:25pm, 7th period law class. Our regular teacher was out. We had a +substitute. Poor diminutive woman that she was I refused to make sport +of her. She was below my contempt, or outside of it. I'm not sure. I +just didn't feel anything for her. Everyone took advantage of her, +everyone but me and a few of the goody-two-shoes. I had other things on +my mind. + +They were working her over pretty good by the middle of the period. She +was intensely flustered. I dropped my pen. That pen fell predictably. +9.8m/s squared is like that. My life fell predictably. Shit is like +that. + +I reached down to scoop my pen off the floor and the damnedest thing +happened; my ass-length hair managed to tangle itself in between the +bars of the desk. Of course, I knew none of this until the desk was +toppling onto the floor, replacing the pen, and taking a few ounces of +hair with it. I cursed under my breath and lifted the desk back up and +began gathering my scattered books. + +A few chuckles rose from the front of the room. In minutes the +substitute teacher rose from her seat and stalked back to my desk. + +"Why did you throw your desk," she demanded in a near hysterical voice. +Remember, everyone had been taunting her continuously for the 20 minutes +prior to this. + +"I didn't," I stated flatly. Which, incidentally, is how I stated most +things back then. + +"You did too. I saw you do it." + +Now she was getting hysterical. "Get out! Go to the office. NOW!" + +I didn't move. "I have work to do." I sat back in my chair and started +writing again. + +"I said get out! Get up and out of this room, NOW!" She was clearly +hysterical now. + +"No. I have work to do," I stated flatly. + +"That's it," she mumbled as she stalked to the door. She opened it up +and stalked out of the room. The class all turned from me to the door +the same look of bewilderment on all of their faces. + +Through the door voices could be heard echoing through the cavernous +hallway. The room was silent. + +I continued working. + +"Which one?" I heard the baritone voice demand. + +"mumble mumble," she replied. + +I looked over at them through my hair. + +[I liked my hair long. I liked it long in the front so it covered my +eyes. When I was younger, 7th grade or so, a I walked up to a girl and +'asked her out.' She denied me outright, a look of shock and +indignation on her face (I remember it vividly) as she then proceeded to +tell me that I had chicken eyes. I never forgot that. I never forget.] + +"You," he said pointing at me, "stand up and come over here." + +"I have work to do," I stated clearly. + +"Get over HERE NOW I SAID!" + +I turned to my paper and began writing again. I don't like it when +people yell at me. I never did and I never will. + +"Son, pay attention to me when I talk to you! Get over here now!" + +"What is your problem," I asked, "People are trying to do their work +now." This was untrue by now because everyone was totally engrossed by my +conversation with Mr. Millar. The last sentence must have shocked +everyone. I hadn't said more than ten words consecutively in my whole +high school career to anyone (my girl friend excluded). + +"What's going on here son," he asked me an a slightly gentler voice. + +"Nothing." + +"Then why has Mrs. -forgot her name- requested my help? Why don't you +come out into the hall so we can discuss this." + +"Whatever," I said standing up. "Everyone always fucks with me." + +"WHAT?" "WHAT DID YOU SAY MISTER?" + +"I didn't do anything, I don't know what you want to talk about." + +"You've totally disrupted this class." + +"No, my hair got caught in the desk and it got knocked over." + +He stared at me incredulously. "Son, are you expecting me to believe +that?" + +"You're not my father." + +"What?" + +"Don't call me son. You're not my father." + +"Come out in the hall." + +"I didn't do anything." + +"Get out here now!" + +So, I walked out into the hall. That was my mistake. It went downhill +from there. + +Mrs. Whateverhernamewas went back into the classroom. It was just +Mr. Millar and myself in the hall now. I stared at the floor. + +"Why are you giving her such a hard time? She deserves to be treated with +respect!" + +"Yeah, I should too." + +"What?" + +"I should too I said. She didn't believe me because I have long hair." + +Well, that struck a cord with him. He flipped on that one. + +"WHAT? WHAT?" + +"You heard me." + +He grabbed my hair and ripped my head up so that he could see into my +face. +Shock was clearly written on my face. I hadn't expected him to grab me. + +"Because of this," he asked shaking my head up and down back and forth. +"Noone gives a shit about your hair son!" + +"Don't call me son! You're not my fuckin' dad! And get your fuckin' +hands off of me you prick!" + +He let go of me and looked around the hall, his eyes were wild with anger. + +"Come with me," he commanded and started to walk down the hall. I walked +the opposite direction. He turned around and grabbed me by the arm, +yanking hard to pull me in his direction. I fell. + +He stared at me as I lay on the floor. Anger seeped away and was replaced +by my old friend, fear. + +Incidentally, it might be important to know that I was beaten as a child. + +"Get up," he demanded and reached down to yank me off the ground; again by +my hair. + +He pulled me by the arm down into another office. There he began to yell +at me for disrespecting the substitute. Throughout the whole thing I was +silent. I was planning. I had to get away. There was a look in his eye; +the same look that I saw before every beating I got. + +See, when people lose control they all have the same look in their eyes. +I knew this look. And I didn't like what was supposed to come next. + +A few teachers walked into the room. It was the social studies teachers +lounge. He stopped yelling and commanded me to go out in the hall. He +said a few words to his coworkers and followed behind me. + +My mind began to shut down. + +He started ranting at me about respect. I was silent. I was scared. + +He opened a small door and pushed me inside. He threw his jacket on the +floor. "I'll show you some fucking respect mr.," he said as he balled his +hands into fists. + +I ran. I turned and ran. + +I ran down past my classroom and into the next one. The teacher was in +the midst of giving a test. I slammed the door open. Everyone turned to +stare at me. + +"Can you please call the principal," I asked in a calm voice between +breaths. + +"What are you doing," she asked me. Shock was easily readable across her +young features. + +"I need . . ." I didn't get to finish. + +"I'm conducting a test in here! You don't just barge into a room . . ." + +Then Mr. Millar entered the room and grabbed me by the shoulder. "I'll +take care of this Cathy." With that, he escorted me into the hall. From +the classroom I could hear her begin saying, "What is this all . . ." + +Mr. Millar let go of me and turned around to explain himself. I ran. I +ran again. + +I ran all the way down to the principals office. I knew him well. I was +always in his office. I was the prize student. + +I got to the office and asked the secretary to let me see the principal. + +"Well he's in a meeting right now. If you'll sit down and wait he'll be +out in a few minutes." + +I sat down. I waited for 2 minutes (hours) and then I stormed out the +door. I had had enough time to think. I was mad at myself for backing down. I +shouldn't have gotten scared. What was he going to do, hit me? I should +have stayed. + +I told myself lots of things. I wasn't scared now. I was angry. I was +fury. + +I ignored the secretary's pleadings as I stored out of the office. I went +down past my locker towards my girl friends class. I stopped. I turned +back to my locker and got my jacket out. Then I walked back to my +girlfriends classroom and asked the teacher if I could talk to her. + +He said ok, and she came out in the hall. Her eyes were wide. She was +scared. She always got scared when I was mad. She wasn't scared for +herself or for me. She was scared for anyone that stood in my way. + +"Why are you crying?" + +"I didn't know that I was," I said flatly, truthfully. + +"What happened? What's going on," Jen asked pleadingly. + +"Nothing, I'm leaving though." + +With that I turned and left. + +I got to my car and when I couldn't open it on the first try I punched the +door. I punched the door again. And again and again, again, again, +again. I punched the door until my knuckles bled as if they had been +cut with a razor. + +I stared at my hands for a long time, standing in the middle of the road. +Tears streamed down my face and onto my hands. I couldn't help crying. +To this day I don't know if it was tears of rage or fear. It was probably a +mixture of both. + +I got my keys in the door and unlocked my now dented and bloodied car +door. As I sat down Jen ran up to the passenger door. I leaned over and +unlocked her door. + +I sped around for an hour. The tears had stopped by then. Jen sat silent +in the passenger seat. Waiting for me to talk. + +I drove to my parents house and got out of the car. They pulled up just +as I was walking towards the house. They stopped and chatted with Jen. +Then the third degree came. + +I told them a bit about what happened. My mother pitched a fit and told +my old man that he had to drive her down to school so she could give them a +piece of her mind. Jen drove back to school with me in the passenger +seat. We followed my parents to school, I recounted the entire tale to +Jen as we drove. + +"I can't believe he did that." I'll never forget her saying that to me. +It was flat and emotionless. To this day I don't know if she was saying +that she was sympathetic or that she didn't believe me. + +We got to the school and went into the principals office. My mother made +a huge stink about the whole thing. The principal wasn't busy. He sat and +chatted with us. Finally he decided that Mr. Millar should be called in. + +Mr. Millar walked into the room, "____, I'm sorry if I intimidated you. I +know that I'm imposing but I didn't mean to frighten you." + +Ignoring that I stared at him, my hair covering my eyes. "You didn't +intimidate me. You tried to fight me like a preschooler. You threw me +onto the ground and pulled out my hair like a girl." + +"I don't know what you're talking about. This is all just a +misunderstanding," he said this last to my parents. + +"I know what I'm talking about, and so do you. You took me into the +closet and tried to get me to swing at you." + +He looked around the room shocked. First at my parents then at the +principal. + +"You can lie to them all, but I know what happened and so do you you +fuck," I stated in a steady emotionless voice. + +The principal looked at me. "_____ I wish you wouldn't swear in here." + +"Fuck you. Do something about your employees," I told him. + +My parents looked on. Probably happy that I was venting on someone else +and not them. + +"_____ honey, are you sure it happened the way you say it did," my mother +asked. + +"I'm sure that's the way he felt it happened. But I've know Mr. Millar +for a long time now and I know that what your son says just isn't the +kind of thing that he'd do," the principal stated. + +"Look, lets just forget about this whole thing," Mr. Millar said extending +hand to me. + +I looked at him. I looked at the principal. I looked at my parents. +I stood up. "This is a fucking joke." + +"Relax _____. Sit down," Mr. Millar commanded. + +I stared at him hard. "Fuck...you." I walked out of the room. + +Jen came trailing after me speaking inanities to me the whole time. + +---------------------- +That was my senior year in high school. During my freshman year in +college a very close friend of mine called me up. + +"Hi ________" + +"Hi D. It's been a long time, how's school," I asked suprised to hear +from D. + +"Mr. Millar died this past summer. I haven't been able to track you down +for a long time. I didn't know where you went. You just disappeared." + +"Yeah, I know. What happened to him," I asked curiously. + +"He had a heart attack while jogging this summer. He's buried out at +______." + +I smiled. "No shit? I'm going to have to pay him a visit." + +I started to believe that some good things do happen in life. + +I never did get a chance to piss on his grave. I owe him that. He made +me remember feelings I'd rather have forgotten. + +I have his obituary on my wall. The paper is yellowed but it's still +clearly ledgable. + +idiot + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0438.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0438.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8caa6bd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0438.txt @@ -0,0 +1,170 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + blah blah blah + -------------- + +- smashing pumpkins on the radio. saw them at the Berlin center at MSU + this year (i think). sucky concert. + +- gavin is not a musician. he's a media puppet. + + +- 419 f.u.c.k. files = 3.33 megs. + + +- se7en owes me 100 bux for phone bills. which he emailed my roomate and + told he was sending to me via money order. two weeks ago. which (shock + shock) hasn't arrived. + +- people magazine did a story on "tall" actresses. not one of them weighs + over a buck, i'm guessing. + +- my feet are cold. + +- inverse's story on 'fuckin' tech support' pissed me off. but then i + remember its guys like him who such geniuses that they still call tech + support(!). (bad move calling people who work at radio shack and office + max tech support.) you are the reason alt.tech-support.recovery exists. + +- this goes along with the "nt specialists" who called me today to help + him install RAS. + +- same goes to the "unix guru" who didn't know what ftp was and was + shipping 16 meg files via email. through netscape. + +- "system administrators" and "computer consultants" are oxymoronic. + +- i get to see Sarah Mclachlan Nov 30. w00pie! + +- i miss the 80's. + +- i haven't seen "south park" yet. + +- i have missed all the new episodes of 'king of the hill", "x-files", + "party of five" and "Melrose place" this season. + +- i am 3/4 of the way reading through "tcp/ip system administration" and + yet i don't have a system to admin. + +- yet. + +- three frappicino's, one large mocha, two cans of diet coke do not = + happy stomach. + +- Thursday's date = a se7en look-a-like (shiver), who drove a beemer, wore + wingtips AND who was intensely boring. + +- Friday's date = hot stud with killer body and fuckable cologne and a nice + neck AND great kisser, who star-gazed with me and drank corona's. a nice + guy. (which means I won't hear from him again). i think i *scared* him + with my aggressiveness. + +- Saturday night my friend Cass and I drank a six each of harps and + Corona's. we fucked. + +- Monday @ work we both regret Saturday night. + +- wow.simunye.com has been up since mid-September. all that is sitting on + the server is the mirror to f.u.c.k. , bukowski, writings and intro pages. + yet incredible amount of people email me to tell me how neat-o it is. + +- am flying to ory-gon in a few weeks to see my friend greg. + +- stone roses rock my world. + +- nietzche is boring. + +- so is ayn rand. + +- spending 100 bux at the M.A.C. counter does not = happiness. + +- Danny found strength within himself to accept it was over. + +- therefore he is fucking Michelle till something better come's along. + +- Chad looked like Eddie Vedder. + +- green day is passe. + +- well defined jaw lines/necks are sexy. + +- guys who look like they are pregnant do not. + +- aggressive guys are sexy. + +- passive ones are not + +- ee cummings rox + +- as does sylvia plath. + +- people who say 'ciao' and do not live in Europe should be beaten heavily + till stiff. + +- people who fuck around their partners need to be shot. + +- same thing with people who are pathological liars. + +- the go-go's were a *good* band. + +- child proof lighters. are not. + +- it truly does snow in April + +- i am not a vampire + +- IRC = i.diots r.eally c.heap + +- sweatpants = Sunday best + +- map of the human heart is a killer movie + +- devil's advocate is not. + +- madness of a seduced woman should be read any romantic + +- chumbawamba = "music" group that needs to be shot + +- diet coke = life saving sustanence + +- bob codes rock. + +- geek codes do not. + +- soda is not soda. its pop. + +- chevy's fajita's rule. + +- guacamole is disgusting. + +- tall+intelligent+smart+hip+cute+male does not exist + +- forever ='s 6 months. give or take. + +- time goes by faster then we think it does + + +simunye +10/29/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0439.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0439.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2893ef80 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0439.txt @@ -0,0 +1,126 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Resume + ---------- + + From: Ted Boss + To: Jane Assistant + Date: Sunday, October 26, 1997 11:42 AM + Subject: Jon Doe's Resume + + Jane, + + I received this resume from Mr. Doe in my e-mail + this morning. He looks like a promising catch. + He brought in several profitable sales deals + at his last company, and helped raise profits + by 70%. I think we could use someone like him. + Could you do the usual checks for me before + we call him? + + Thanks, + + Ted + + + + + + From: Jane Assistant + To: Ted Boss + Date: Sunday, October 26, 1997 1:37 PM + Subject: Re: Jon Doe's Resume + + Sir, + + I did some checking on the Internet and here is + what I came up with: + + WWW: + ------------------------------------------------ + Mr. Doe has a personal web page detailing some + of his hobbies, which include writing, boating, + and dog breeding and showing. In his links + section he has pointers to pages which cover + these subjects, and, in addition, he has several + links that point to various piercing and + tattooing shops in the Greater City area. + + USENET: + ------------------------------------------------ + Mr. Doe frequently posts to the following + newsgroups: + + alt.sex.stories + alt.sex.bondage + misc.writing + comp.infosystems.www.authoring.html + + According to these USENET posts, Mr. Doe had a + book of erotica published in 1983 under a + pseudonym. + + He also mentions an arrest for possession of + a small amount of marijuana when he was 19 years + old. + + In misc.writing and comp.infosystems.www. + authoring.html, he engages regularly in "flame + wars" with the denizens of these groups. + + PROFESSIONAL SOURCES: + ------------------------------------------------ + According to Mr. Doe's references, he is an + excellent employee, a self-starter, creative, + and hard-working. A representative quote is that + he "gets the job done, no matter what it takes." + He is "friendly and intelligent". + + + Please let me know if there is anything else I + can do for you with respect to this project. + + Jane + + + + From: Ted Boss + To: Jane Assistant + Date: Sunday, October 26, 1997 4:29 PM + Subject: Re: Re: Jon Doe's Resume + + Jane, + + Thank you for your review. Please file his resume. + + Thanks, + + Ted + + + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + http://www.demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0440.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0440.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..255dfeae --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0440.txt @@ -0,0 +1,158 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + How to be a Truly Bad Person + ---------------------------- + + +Choose your associates carefully +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +The greatest dangers to a person attempting to become a truly bad person +are not his enemies, but his friends. We arm our friends with all of +the tools necessary to effect our destruction. We let them know what is +important to us, we let them know details of our activities, we let them +know how we think and operate. We would never think of giving any of +these advantages to our enemies, yet we forget how easily the friend of +today can become the enemy of tomorrow. Remember: If you need a friend, +get a dog. + + + +Choose your dwelling carefully +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +As bad people, we often do bad things. Many of these bad things are +loud, odorous, or otherwise obvious to non-bad people. The dwelling of +a truly bad person must support his lifestyle in every way possible, it +must be a base of operations for him to conduct his nefarious affairs +from with the maximal amounts of both convenience and safety. + +The dwelling must be as far away from prying eyes as possible. One +elderly neighbor sitting up at night staring out at the neighborhood can +be your undoing. When you choose a domicile, check the access routes to +it and determine who can see you when you drive home at night. Be +especially careful of neighbors who do not have regular work schedules. +Children and elderly people are your worst enemies. + +Find a free standing dwelling with a garage. You must have a free +standing dwelling because you cannot afford to have your neighbors +listening into your evil plans through thin apartment walls or heater +vents. Suppose you have to kidnap, torture and kill someone. How do +you do that in an apartment? The garage is important because it allows +you to load and unload your vehicle in relative privacy. In addition, +the garage will allow you to set up a workshop. Many of to tools that +the truly bad person requires to do truly bad things are illegal and +very difficult to acquire. Items that fall into this category include +silencers, auto-sears and explosive devices. + +It is good to have both a front and rear entrance, in case you need to +leave unannounced. In addition, it gives you two paths to use to avoid +nosy neighbors. + + + +Choose your transportation carefully +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +Your transportation is important because it is your greatest tool in +making other peoples possessions your possessions. + +Your transportation should be common. A 911 Carerra looks very nice and +goes very fast, but is also very easy to spot. Which is easier for a +witness to ID, a red 911 Carerra or a white van? + +Whatever you choose should have a large capacity for storage space and +very little window glass. Plan something that has room for everything +you will need. Plan for both the tools of your trade and for cargo. One +bad person may need to plan for burglars tools and television sets, +while another may need to plan for several rifles and two bodies. You +do not want to find yourself with more corpses than you can easily +dispose of. Storage space that can be seen through glass windows does +not count as usable storage space. + + + +Control your ego +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +Many bad people are tripped up because they begin to think of themselves +as invincible. Burn down a few building, kill a few people, burglarize +a few companies, you will begin to feel invincible. This is one of the +rewards of being a truly bad person, but it is also one of the risks. + +No matter how good you are, there is always a risk factor. No matter +how careful you are, there is always a risk factor. Do not allow +yourself to become excited or emotionally involved with the task at +hand, once you do you lose control of your actions and their results. + +And whatever you do, do not brag about your exploits. Remember: Even +fish wouldn't get caught if they kept their mouths closed. + + + +Study +~~~~~ +As a truly bad person you will be involved with many things that common +people do not become involved with. Most people do not need to know how +to manufacture their own explosives or prepare their own poisons. Being +a truly bad person is not for everyone. Study basic chemistry and then +back it up be studying advance chemistry in your fields of interest. +Study martial arts and practice practice practice. As a truly bad +person you are going to be doing a truly bad things to people. Those +people tend to resist, occasionally violently. Be prepared to both +defend yourself and push for your goals using any means necessary. For +the same reasons, study firearms and practice their use. + +Military manuals are a good source of information. In addition, there +are publishers who specialize in printing information of interest to the +truly bad person. When purchasing these materials, purchase locally and +pay cash when possible. When that is not possible, use a mail drop and +a false identity. + + + +Be a good person +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +The last technique to master to be a truly bad person is to become a +good person. + +Join the local police protective association. Join local social +organizations. Do not give money to national charities or +organizations, focus on people who can be called upon to testify as to +your upstanding character. In addition, these local social +organizations are excellent places to identify and research potential +victims. If you know Bob is always at the Kiwanas on Tuesday night, you +know when Bob's home will be unprotected. + +It is important to convince those around you that you are a good person, +but is it essential that you first convince yourself. When you first +convince yourself, convincing anyone else is much easier. Remember: "I +wasn't there, I have no idea what you are talking about, I am offended +that you would even suggest such a thing, and I want to speak to my +lawyer." + + + + -- Anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0441.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0441.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6b8d0409 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0441.txt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Glamour + ------- + +Looking down from the 17th floor to the 2nd floor, on the inside of the +hotel. Three restaurants fill the space below. + +At one of the tables sits five people, each with their own story, which +no one there knows; each looking just as glamourous as ever. Starting with +the man on the left who would be about 7:00 if the round table was a watch. + +7:00 man looks around the table, he seems nervous in the people's +company. His wife had an affair with someone when he as out of town, and +now she has decided to leave him. He loves her with all of his heart, +and the nervousness that others notice is really him trying not to create +a scene by an outburst of pain and anguish. + +At 9:00 is a woman. She's beautiful and single. She seems to be distracted +with something. The look of distraction would be correct, since her +foot had found the man at 11:00's lap. + +11:00 man has a look of such pleasure on his face, and soft groans would +escape from his throat has he continued to shovel down the delicious food. +His food now, is mostly eaten - the light catches his wedding band. It's +always been known he is a food consumer. While in actuality he is greatly +enjoying an erection. + +The only others at the table are a "happily married" couple. The man at +2:00 and the woman at 4:00. They seem to be so much in love, yet they are +barely speaking to each other. Just before the dinner the wife had +received a call from home. Her mother-in-law has worsened and there is +now three nurses at the house in hopes of helping her. After the call the +couple got in a huge fight. The wife takes more care of the mother-in-law +than her husband. + +Five people gathered for dinner; five people that all are supposedly +'successful' and 'glamorous'; five people living lives that are dramatically +different then what people believe. + +Glamour, for some people comes with a cost. A cost that after paying most +people regret. The price to always seem happy and in great shape. The loss +of being true to those you know, for the sake of the needed image of you. + +Nothing is at it seems. + +Everyone has their own story. + +Each of us pays for something, when we lose who we are to present an image +to those we are not. + +- Kamira +October 29, 1997 +kamiraj@hotmail.com +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0442.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0442.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bfc6d59b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0442.txt @@ -0,0 +1,185 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Solitude Standing + ----------------- + + "I dunno.. I haven't heard from him in two weeks." + + "Yeah, me neither. Well, email here and there, but nothing + else really." + + "Think he is alright? I mean, he used to hang out all the + time with us.." + + "I dunno.. wanna give him a call?" + + "He hasn't answered his phone in two weeks. Hasn't returned + any pages either I don't think. Julie said he didn't return + her pages..." + + "Guess he isn't talking to anyone." + + - day - + + 11:02a on the status bar. An hour and a half had passed and +he had already sent 62 pieces of email to 47 people in 4 countries. +He pressed 'x' and the screen replied "deleting 400, keeping 130". +The mail he considered important had been replied to, mail that would +take more effort to reply to left for the afternoon. + + - break - + + 10:44p on the status bar. He had no idea how many pieces of +mail he had sent over the day. Well over two hundred; not that it +mattered, but it was amusing keeping track. Another day had passed +without leaving the apartment. What was that.. three days? + + - day - + + He woke up at 1:13pm and lay in bed for 10 minutes relaxing. +His cat had jumped on the bed and lay across one of his arms, repeatedly +nudging his shoulder. Smiling, he reached over with his free arm and +scratched the cat on the neck. "I'll feed you in a few minutes, son." +Climbing out of bed he tried to shake off the fatigue he felt. Another +day of three hours of sleep. He reminded himself to look up the exact +definition of insomnia later that day. + The shower hadn't even warmed up before the phone rang; the +eighth time that morning. He let it ring a second time to ensure +caller ID information had passed, then picked up with a quick 'hello'. + + "Yes, I just woke up.." + + "No, I haven't read my email.. someone's at the door, I'll + call you later." + + He slammed the phone down in disgust. Just because he slept +at different hours of the day did not mean he was lazy. Each night +he slept four hours less than most of his 'friends', yet got nothing +but shit about his sleeping schedule. Fuck them. They wonder why +he didn't want to talk to them? If they can't show simple understanding +about such a simple thing as sleeping schedule, how could they understand +anything else going on in his mind.. his life? Obviously, they couldn't. + Still disgusted, he climbed in the shower. + + - break - + + "Lets see.. new Fiona single, Portishead, Ani, new KMFDM, and +5th Element soundtrack. How does that sound kid?" + + His cat looked up at him with an almost quizicle look. Its +not like the cat would ever respond, despite a cat having over one +hundred distinct vocal sounds. However, the cat appeared to understand +the gist of what he said, and loved the attention. 'shuffle'; 'play', +and he closed the glass door on the stereo cabinet. Back to the computer +to catch up on email and news. + As he sat down he leaned back to think for a minute. He debated +on having his phone line turned off. He didn't use the phone much at all +as it was, and he had the two ISDN channels which could double as a voice +line. That would just make it so no one could call in.. not a bad thing +overall. Or would cancelling his pager be a better thing. These days +he didn't get paged much, and those that did never paged with a code +so he could recognize the number. That left a handful of random numbers +each week, 20% of which he recognized and returned. + He looked over and his son let out a single meow. "Yeah, I'll +decide later." + + - week - + + Aside from family, only his ex had remembered his birthday. +She even bought him a present on top of lunch. He didn't really +care about his birthday, as it meant very little. But the action of +at least remembering it would have been nice, especially from the +various friends he did favors for. 'Get this info for me', or 'can you +pick up this', sometimes 'can I borrow ten bucks'. Didn't matter what +they asked, it was all a lot less than what they did for him. But +he was used to it, and expected for them to forget. + Along with that expectation came the desire to distance +himself. Like many things, it was the principal behind it, not the +actions (or lack thereof) themselves. Perception is everything. + + - day - + + "He posted to a mail list the other night, but hasn't answered + my mail yet. I don't know what's up with him." + + "Hrm. I called him a few times over the past days and only + got his machines. He isn't answering pages either. Wonder + if he is ok.." + + "What a dick.. ignoring pages like that." + + - day - + + The more time passed, the less reason he could find to stay in +touch with the people he used to call friends. It amazed him that they +would drop by unexpectedly, hang out for hours on end watching TV and +drinking his liquor, but when they hadn't heard from him for a week, +they would barely try to reach him. Because of his current shift in +daily routine, he had drug a patch cord out to the living room so he +could stay online but watch TV or a movie instead of listening to the +stereo. + As before, he loved getting email, but even that had changed. +He eagerly anticipated getting mail from a handful of people, and barely +opened his eyes to sort the other hundred pieces from mail lists. +On his list were a few local people he still cared for. Others included +a friend from New York, someone he had never met from the 'MidWest', +a handful of young 'students' he was helping in various areas, and +one or two other random people that wrote with great infrequency. + Despite the lack of physical contact, or voice communication, +he felt closer to those people than most others. He wondered what the +chances of compatibility were in each person he mailed. Some cases in +the past taught him that meeting over the net was not a way to meet +compatible people, while sometimes it proved to work out just fine. +No clue on what dictated that characteristic or if there was a way +to determine it up front. Not like he had to meet any of them or force +the issue either. Just curiosity. + + - day - + + More problems plagued him now than ever before. Not the amount, +but how much they weighed on his tired soul. As always, the people that +claimed to care about him could barely read him, let alone understand +him. It was a known element in his life, and expected. Why he put up +with them was beyond him but his own desire for contact and friendship +was still there. + The road ahead was unpaved at best, littered with unmarked turns +and more than enough potholes. No matter how he tried to look ahead, +no matter how he tried to figure out how to get a map, the more obscured +his path became. Sometimes he wished destiny or fate would give him +a hint as to where to go, other times he didn't believe in either. Days +passed where flipping a coin to determine change in life seemed a pretty +damn good method of choosing. Others he was content to sit back and +enjoy the solitude of his domicile, content with the world passing him +by. + + - break - + + Whatever happened, he could only rely on where the day takes +him. + + + d1s + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0443.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0443.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c0f410bd --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0443.txt @@ -0,0 +1,105 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Legion's Rants, Part Whatever... + -------------------------------- + +More rants. + +The government (stop groaning. Of course you need to hear it again). My +dad's moving to Mexico. He was down there on vacation and watched the +news. The news showed flight 800 being smacked by a missile. Yet we're +"still trying to put the puzzle together." Bah. + +Underworld (OK, so these aren't all rants...). This shit rocks my world. +Just picked up _dubnobasswithmyheadman_. Woo. + +People. Yes, people. Just this very second I was in #depression asking a +friend with MPD to calm down a little because she was manic and flooding +the channel with the Smiths' song lyrics. Someone else who wanted support +left because of her and started bitching at me when I tried to explain her +actions. Then *she* left and started bitching at me for "trying to bring +her down" (this was a very young, manic personality). Then she put me on +ignore when I tried to explain that I was trying to keep the channel in +order. Then she crashed when I called her and explained it voice. "You can +please half the people half the time, but people fucking suck." + +More people...my ex is either playing head games with everyone (she seems +to like attention) or something is really wrong...and she won't return +calls or email, and her parents haven't heard from her in a week...yet +according to her finger info she was logged into her account yesterday at +around 5.30 pm and was on for an hour before she telnetted from there to +another account, which she was apparently on for a while. + +My sister. Oh wait, what sister? Fuck her. + +Radio music. I get to listen to a local R&B/rap/homey G/top 40/shit +station at work (whee). One day they played one song 5 (yes! 5!) times +during my 8-hour shift. They played another one 4 times during my shift. I +brought my radio and some tapes in and played a Front Line Assembly +single, some Skinny Puppy, and some Pestilence one day. It was a nice +sense of balance. + +My job. But it's better than no job at all, so I won't bitch about it +here. + +Cheesy low-rent sci-fi flicks that butcher Heinlein's original +masterpieces. I'll still see _Starship Troopers_ (Pyroxylin tells me it's +pretty good), but why can't someone like James Cameron make a Heinlein +movie and pump millions of dollars into the special effects and hire +decent actors? Christ. Speaking of which, the movie _Screamers_ was a +total fuckup of Phillip K. Dick's (_Bladerunner_) original story, "The +Second Variety." And don't even get me started on Stephen King movies... + +The fact that the woman I love is 850 miles away, and I'm just moving out +there as a friend to see if anything develops, with no guarantees, and the +fact that I just got a job at a large company that has no branches out +there, and I'll have to start my job search over, and the fact that I +don't have much confidence in myself, which really seems to irritate her, +and the fact that I ramble on and on like this for hours at a time just to +fill up space so Dis will print this. :P + +IRC. But I'm fucking addicted, what can I say? For one thing, it's the +only way I can talk to my loved one since she lives at home and her +parents are nosy (and yes, she *is* over 18, Apok). I sometimes spend +upwards of 10 hours a day on irc, and I don't read very much anymore. And +typing fast without concern for spelling or correct punctuation has +affected my writing skills negatively. + +You, the reader. If you read something in FUCK that you don't like, write +to the author and tell him or her. The same goes for articles you do like. +Feedback is what makes our brains learn (on a neural level). Similarly, +verbal and written feedback help us learn at higher levels. I've noticed +that we readers tend to be too passive at times. + +Hypocrites. I myself rarely write to the authors or Dis to mention how I +felt about a particular article. But my excuse is that I'm a lazy bastard +who spends all of his time on irc. Maybe I'll have the willpower to change +this soon. + +"Talk minus action equals zero" -- D.O.A. + +-Legion + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0444.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0444.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4c7d31de --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0444.txt @@ -0,0 +1,56 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Pixilated Pictures + ------------------ + + Sometimes, that is all I have in life. Grainy, two + dimensional pictures of lovers, family and friends. + + My color printer has gone nutty over the last few days + printing out pictures of Jeff. Sometimes I wonder what it + would be like to trace, not the flat image of his face, but + the full image, in technicolor. To stroke each curve that is + defined, to caress each dip, each pore, each mound of + flesh that makes him...Jeff. + + Pixilated pictures are nothing new to me. For years, + trainspiring from coast to coast, computer to computer, + keeping my stock of pictures from everyone I have ever + met with me, on 3 1/2 floppies. Pictures that by a few + clicks, I can see the person, as if they were sitting in front + of me. To recognize that person above and beyond this + image that is flat and lifeless. + + To experience the whole image. To smell and feel and + taste what is already in my imagination. To grasp, to + fondle, to cajole out of clothing, instead of being + frustrated and angry. + + Pixilated pictures. + + A poor substitute for the human flesh. + + + simunye + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0445.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0445.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..19fa634e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0445.txt @@ -0,0 +1,241 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + anger + ----- + + one + the son was walking out of the store with the father, + just after buying a few groceries. suddenly the + father stepped on the man's left shoe who was walking + rather slowly in front of the father. the man turned + his black face around and said "why don't you slow + down a little there, huh?" as jericurl dripped onto + the man's shoulder. the man gave the father a look of + annoyance and turned around slowly and began walking + away. suddenly a bomb went off in the sons head. the + son walked over to the man who was now just minding + his own business. + + "hey!" shouted the son. the man turned around as the + father approached the son. + + "what are you doing?" said the father. + + "no one gets away with that, the father, no one." the + son marched over to the man now standing with a + puzzled look upon his face. + + "why did you look at the father like that? why you + piece of shit? no one gave the man permission to look + at the father like that, and you need the son's + permission before you can. i didn't hear the man ask + me permission, so you are going to apologize to the + father right the fuck now!" the son pounded his words + into the man's ears. + + "man, fuck you and the father!" replied the man as he + slowly turned away, as if the conversation was over. + + at that moment nothing existed but revenge, and + hatred. the son grabbed the back of the man's head, + gripping onto his wet hair. the son swung the man + around and threw his head against a wall. after + breaking the man's nose against the hard concrete he + feel to the ground in pain. the father looked on with + disbelief. then the son put his hands against the + wall and used all the force in his body to + continually kick the man in the stomach and ribs. by + the time the father was able to pull the son off the + man who was unconscious and bleeding to death. + getting a better look at the man the father saw blood + coming from his mouth and noticed his pulse was + almost non-existent. just as the father turned to ask + the son what he had done the son was gone, he was + nowhere to be found. + + the father stayed around to talk to the police, and + make sure the man was going to live. the father gave + the police all the information they needed. a warrant + was put out for the arrest of the son. the man did + not live to see the next day. + + two + the son was walking down a beat up old alley when he + found the dealer. the son looked at the dealer, and + he could see the son's red eyes. + + "the son, i don't know what you have had but it looks + like some good shit." said the dealer, trying to get + a new customer. the look of hatred did not leave the + sons face as the next words came from his mouth. + + "you sell these drugs to the people? you sell these + drugs?" the dealer was becoming confused. + + "not so loud the son! look, if you want something we + can do business, but don't --" "-- fuck with me!" + yelled the son as he hit the dealer on the back of + his head. the son saw a gun sticking out of the + dealer's pants. the son grabbed it and put it to the + dealer's head. + + "so you like to string up little kids? you like to do + this thing you do, the dealer? does it make you happy + to destroy and murder the people?" the son had the + gun cocked and ready to fire, pressed hard against + the dealer's ear. + + "i don't know what you're talking about the son, + don't kill me, don't do it the son. i'm just trying + to survive." the dealer was crying, with his face + towards the ground, cowering in fear. + + "survive this!" the gun exploded in shards of relief + as the bullet struck into the dealer's head. the son + heard one of the people scream in the distance so he + began to walk away. + + three + walking away with his new gun the son kept his + melancholy face a view. as the son began to walk out + of the alley the police pulled up behind him. + + "stop!" the police yelled as their doors swung open + and their bullets became chambered. the son turned + around and slowly stepped towards the alley, trying + to decide if he could make a run for it. the police + slowly began walking towards the son. + + "ok, just put your hands on your head and lay down on + the ground." the police instructed. the son had no + choice at this point but to comply. the son put his + hands behind his head and slowly moved to the ground. + the police began walking over very cautiously. + + "we understand that there is something wrong with + you. the father explained to us that he believes you + to be severely ill. there are the people who can help + the son. just remain calm and we will take you with + us." the police said as they tried to convince the + son of their good intentions, which numbered zero. + + "we can do this the easy way or the hard way, it is + up to you." it was amazing how quickly the police + died. no one was expecting it, especially the son who + laid on the ground with his gun gripped in his right + hand. + + "i'll take the easy way." said the son as he got up + off the ground and brushed himself off. + + four + "the father?" the son thought as he began walking + home. "why would the father talk to the police about + me?" it was a long walk. the son had to walk half way + across town in order to get home. it was dark when + the son arrived. the son unlocked and opened the door + to the father's house. the son walked in and looked + around. the father sat on the couch staring into a + candle's flame which was the only source of light in + the entire house. + + "my the god, where have you been, the son?" the + father asked as he rose up from the couch. + + "why did you tell the police what i did, the father?" + the son returned the question as he looked upon the + father with astonishment. + + "what did you want me to do, the son? you killed the + man who did not deserve to die for what he did." the + father answered as though this reasoning should be + obvious to the son. + + "the man deserved to die. the son protects the people + he loves. the son protects them from hurt." the son + replied in a psychotic tone. "i love the son above + all others now, and the father hurt the son by + telling the police. just as the man hurt the father." + the son looked at the father as though this reasoning + should be obvious to him. + + "hold on a second, now just calm down, everything is + going to be ok." the father begin talking quickly. + then the father fell to the ground, as his blood + coated the wall behind him. + + "yes, everything is going to be ok, the son will see + to that." the son grinned as he looked over the + father's dead body. + + five + the son swung open the door to the father's house and + began running. the son ran about two blocks down to + another house. a house the son had been to over a + hundred times. the son hopped the fence and made his + way to an unlocked window in the back of the house. + the son had been through it over a hundred times. the + son climbed through and made his way to a bedroom. a + bedroom the son had been to over a hundred times. the + son opened the door, walked through the dark room and + sat on the bed. suddenly the form under the covers + awoke and saw the son sitting above her. + + "oh, it's you. you scared the hell out of me, what + are you doing here this late?" the love threw one of + her pillows at the son as she smiled. + + "i have come to see the love. the son needs to talk." + the son said now taking on a serious tone. + + "not again." the love mumbled under her breath. + + "no, the love, not again." the son replied. + + "then what is it, the son? why have you come here in + the middle of the night?" the love asked with a + confused look on her face. + + "i have finally figured out a way to work things out. + i have finally found a way to make everything ok." + the son said, reassuring the love of his intentions. + "you see, the love hurt the son. the love hurt the + son deeply." + + "the love never meant to hurt the son. the love never + felt that way towards the son. the son hurt the son + by falling for the love." the love replied, as though + trying to make the son understand something he + already did. + + "i know, the son knows all to well. however now the + son will fix everything. the love hurt the son, + therefore the love must die." and blood painted the + window. "the son hurt the son, therefore the son must + die." and more blood painted the window. + + +rage-303 .. this is the end, my only friend the end. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0446.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0446.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e680ed45 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0446.txt @@ -0,0 +1,112 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Dark Reflection + --------------- + +I wake up. The light of the television screen blinding my eyes. Did I sleep +that long? I stand up, hating the world, hating the people in it, and hating +the fact that the only thing that makes me happy is a work of fiction. I +pour a drink from the cabinet. Nothing better than the old +whiskey-and-ginger ale combination to get you started. + +I turn on the television to see a man standing there trying to sell me his +religion. Another reason I've always chosen to stay from the entity that +they all call "God." It's revolting to see people devote their lives to +this shit. + +I cough uncontrollably for a good minute or so, and take another sip of my +drink. It's 5:48 AM. I know I have to get it together and get myself ready +to leave, but I find myself thinking about this whole situation I'm in. I +pick up the remote and see a woman babbling uncontrollably on Channel 3. I +never quite understood why these morons think it's good to know how goddamned +fucked up the world is. I live with a daily reminder, myself, every single +day. + +Ironic, isn't it, that when things are so dismal and hate-filled, people +still believe my decoys that I'm alright. I am a master at being a coward, +not able to face up to my own problems, watching them fester and bubble +before my own eyes. I need something to prevent people from giving me +attention about this, and so I mask everything. Occasionally, when I +need to let some of this out, I write a letter, a poem, a song. An outlet +is all it is. A temporary remedy. Trick stitches. + +Clothes are strewn across my bedroom. The television plays a classical tune +on a commercial for a car. The light hum of the computer underlies +everything. It is the answer. I realize that I am not as good a friend as I +would like to be. I realize that my music, no matter how much potential +people say, will never be what I want. I realize that the poems are just +scribbles on a cheap notebook. + +Suddenly, a flow of data fills my mind, and I experience the beauty of the +machine. The soothing sound of connecting modems fills my head, and I grin. +I maniacally type at the keyboard, feeding my addiction with every movement. +I continue the entry into the system for a while and decide to log out. What +I am is an addict. There is no way out because it is the way in which I best +express how I feel, in some odd, twisted way. "Normal" life has abandoned me, +exiled me. And here I stand, an advocate of the computer underground. Here, +because when there is a learning process going on, pain can seem distant. +The terrible cough, the emotional anguish, seems to be blocked out. And +they call us criminals. If they would even attempt to understand the motives +behind the movement, they may play a different tune. Besides, they all come +from a social-friendly world, where they can get along with people. They +didn't need to mask their feelings because there were none there in the +first place. + +The funny thing is, I used to be so naieve as to believe that someday I could +actually become happy. Ridiculous. I see people all around me, an image of +what I think "happiness" should be. Laughing, talking with friends, holding +hands with a significant other. All of these I've experienced. Nothing +lasts. The world will always leave you like a cold rat dying on the rotting +tiles of floor. Grasping, trying to hold on to something so that you won't +feel so goddamned empty and feeble as you slowly snuff it. + +I get up from my desk, click off the television, and turn on the stereo. A +beautifully dark tune plays the soundtrack for my thoughts. The organs and +guitars entrance me. Thoughts of loves gone and past fill my mind. No +matter now, though. The only thing to cure this is to make myself numb. +Stop thinking about it. + +It's 6:12 AM now. Almost time to straighten up and get ready. I get a quick +shower, eat some stale toast and butter, and head back to my bedroom. A +track from a gothic band is playing in my room, carrying a haunting melody. +It makes me grin. I grin because they all don't understand the beauty of +sorrow, once it has been cultured. It's like a thorn in a rose. It hurts, +but retains beauty. + +Beauty is a strange thing, isn't it? Art or music that some find repulsive, I +take pleasure in experiencing. The fact that real feeling was put into the +canvas, raw emotion was pounded out on a TR101 synthesizer. Of course, +beauty also exists in the penetrated computer system. My challenges derived +from that are all worth it in the end. My masterpiece has been in progress +for over two years now. No one knows for sure how long it will last. All +I know is that as long as the challenge remains, beauty will still emanate +from me. + +I finish my drink and lower my head. An abrupt coughing fit starts up. Time +to face the world again. + + +-- Mordeth + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0447.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0447.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..60384ebe --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0447.txt @@ -0,0 +1,75 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Story + ------- + +A gentle chirp from a bird above, woke me. Looking out, I saw the grass was +nice and high, up around me. Not wanting to get up, or move too quickly, I +was comfortable and cozy in my little bed. Hearing the rustle of the leaves, +and seeing a few flutter down before, I realize a new day has risen, and I +need to as well. + +Stretching, I extend my legs, one at a time, and yawn. Twitching my ears, +adjusting to noises around me. Crushing of leaves, I smell the air, the +evil one is near. Hearing the cocking of the gun, and hearing the swoosh +of the jacket, he is ready to shoot. + +Suddenedly, springing up from where I once was comfortable, I leap up and +over the nice thick grass, as I see a bullet fly right past me on my left. +Hopping more quickly now, I dive into a pile of leaves, and bury myself +deeper and deeper, finding myself next to the root of a tree, I hear him walk +past, not knowing for sure where I am, since the grass is high and the leaves +are many. + +'That was close. Too close.', I thought. After several hours, and many +others passing, I decide it is all right for me to approach what I had +counted on for breakfast, now the sun was lower in the sky, though on the +other side. Nighttime was beginning ... + +Hunting season. They come, to find us, shoot us, eat us or make something of +us, when we have never done anything wrong to them. Sometimes, they have +even planted gardens for us to feed upon, or teased us with their vegetables - +only to get us to trust them, and then kill us. There are those that are +trapped in farms, where it is said you go to a place and are in heaven, +though are not free to chase. What is a worse prison? + +Looking around, I hear something coming, hopping out of its way, it is only +a deer. It too, is hiding from the hunters fire. Just then, as it dove past +me, a bullet I heard, flying at me, aimed for the deer, who just passed me. +Before, I could move, I was hit. The pain went right through me, as a sudden +sinking feeling came over me. + +Falling to the ground, the hunter runs away, realizing he had not hit the +deer he found another one to chase afterwards. The deer comes out of hiding +and sniffs me, nudging me to see if I am all right. As I pass away, a +question springs to mind, "Why must I die, just for what I am?", at that +the last breath of life escaped me, I lay my head down, and accept my +death. + + +- Kamira +kamiraj@hotmail.com +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0448.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0448.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..59e9d5c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0448.txt @@ -0,0 +1,66 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Just Ramblings + -------------- + +I cannot remember the time that I last typed something, just for the fun of +typing, or for the fun of or writing it. Nowadays, if I do not have something +to type that has a purpose, in some way, it's not typed. The same goes +nowadays for things I say ... I remember hearing once, that someone judges +whether or not they will believe or take what you say and remember it, +within the first five seconds of hearing what you are saying. That's a +quick judgement, with very little to go on, but I really think a lot of +times it is true. + +Instead of times when you could sit and talk about anything or everything, +now unless you have something 'worth while' to say, it's pointless to talk. +And, you are lucky if you can even get someone to read or hear what you are +saying, much less pay attention or listen. + +Then once in a great long while, you find someone that you can actually sit +and talk with about anything and everything. You are comfortable with +sharing something serious, and you are not afraid to say something silly. It +is a rarity and something of a bond, if you correspond somehow with someone +that way. + +In a world that judges you so quickly, even before you can say anything or +type anything ... it amazes me, that any of us get to half the places that we +are going in life. + +Ramblings and babblings, are sometimes pointless and boring, other times its +a peak through a window to a persons heart, that otherwise would never be +seen by you. Sometimes hold greater truths, meanings, and inspirations then +you'd ever find, skimming through any clear, short, and definite writings or +hearing just the 'facts' of something. + +Try it sometime. + +Or maybe these are just pointless ramblings, too? + +- Kamira +November 13th, 1997 +kamiraj@hotmail.com +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0449.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0449.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..387166fc --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0449.txt @@ -0,0 +1,240 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Past Explanation + ---------------- + +Sit down, get comfortable, and relax, before you read this, because you most +likely will not be able to once it is over. + +I guarantee you, this is not like anything else you have read, because it is +MY own story. + +Abuse runs in cycles. You allow yourself to be a victim. Once you are +abused you seek out abusers, to surround yourself with, not knowing anything +else. If it happened, you must have done something to deserve it. + +The above are all examples of things that have been drummed into our heads, +and we have learned in our lives. + +What I am going to be sharing with you, is my own story. What I lived, and +what I did to get out of that type of life, and how I have survived and will +no longer just be another statistic. + +1986 - I had gone to the same private catholic grade school, until that year. +My older siblings and family members had gone there as well ... it was +tradition, until someone decided to change that. A 'bully' was in the class, +that was nothing out of the ordinary - all schools have those, but this one +was even more different towards me. I was only 10, but I remember walking +into my mom's bedroom, just like it was yesterday. One of the lights were +on, I sat down on the bed, and I looked over to her, she was by the closet +and said, "I don't care what you or dad say or do, but there is NO way that +I can keep going to school. I'll runaway if I have to, you can't make me +go back there! You just can't." The kid was sexually abusing me. There was +a lot more that went on, with the teachers making us wait out in the hall, +and them making him apologize to me - even if he did not mean it, it was +hell, and I was only ten. By the week before Thanksgiving, I had left that +grade school, and was going to be going to a new school. + +1986-1990 - I went to a public school, and loved it. + +1990 - My parents decided I would once again to go the school that was +tradition for our family to attend, a private catholic high school. I +remember a lot of bad things from that first year of HS, though I will keep +this brief, or try to anyways. + +A couple of guys had asked me out on dates, and each time I had turned them +down. Partially because I did not even know if I could date, and I did not +really know them, and I had to always take care of my grandma when they did +want to go out with me. After a few weeks, I remember I was walking down +the main hall, and saw one of them talking with a couple of friends, and I +heard the one saying "There she is, that's the one. She's really from the +wrong side of the tracks, if you know what I mean." With a wink, nudge, and +a laugh, that is how it all started. Within a few months, no matter if I was +in the hallway, in class, the lunch room, auditorium, mass (remember it was a +catholic HS), or some other gathering, I could always hear guys making +comments about the night before or what I supposedly had done to or with them +some time, cat calls, whistles, gestures, snide remarks, offers. + + It spread from just the two guys, to a whole group of them in my year, +to the next grade, to the next, and then to the seniors. The seniors that +year, were not the little runts of some years, they were the huge football +and hockey players, and overall jocks. From the guys all the girls drooled +over, to the ones the girls knew were jerks, to the guys that most did not +even like all of them (except maybe one or two exceptions - which usually +was that they were not present) would not do something. Everyday I could +look forward to any time that I went to my locker, or anywhere else that +I would be surrounded by guys. + Within a couple of more months, the two original ones got so bad at +times, trapping me in my desks, cornering me in halls or entranceways, +that even the ones that had joined in other times, would say that it was +enough and to get off of me or leave me alone. When it first started +happening, I remember talking with my parents about it, and them saying +that "Just ignore it, they'll stop eventually.". Because of family issues, +(someone being in the hospital, etc.) I was not able to talk with them or +go to them for help, or so I felt. I tried all sorts of tactics, ignoring +them, talking or yelling back at them, kicking/pouncing them or trying to +fight back, and nothing seemed to matter. + Meanwhile, all the girls were not talking with me any more because I had +all their guys, or all of their attention at least, which was the only thing +they wanted. Calls would come to me at home, notes placed in my locker, +purse, or bag, it was all constant. Then one time in May, my sister and I +went down to the lunch room, and for whatever reason, there was no adult in +there, and it was almost all seniors, as soon as we turned down the hall, +which was about ten yards before you actually entered the lunch room, the +cat calls started, the comments, gestures, notes, pounding on the table, +etc. My sister was in shock, I went to the machine got a candy bar, and +went to the opposite side of the room and got a cup of coke, and walked +out, as we turned the corner away from the lunch room, and we could still +hear them, I could tell my sister was furious. Now, she wanted to know +what that was all about, and why they were doing that, and I explained to +her, that I did not know, and that that was the reason I never wanted to go +anywhere alone, and that I never wanted to stay after, and that was why I +hated the school and wanted nothing to do with anyone or anything that went +there. + That next day, my sister, dad, and I met with the dean of students. +The only two I turned in were the two that originally started the whole +thing, even though the dean tried to push me for the names of some of the +jocks, like I wanted the seniors mad at me for not letting them graduate or +because they got Saturday detention! Plus, it would only prolong them being +there. That same day, I was sitting in class, when one of the two guys got +the slip to go immediately down to the deans office. The next morning, the +other one came up to my locker, and said "how dare you" and I didn't say +anything. "Your dad was here yesterday." "Yeah." "Why?" "Because I'm sick +of your shit." "What shit?" I roll my eyes, and slam my locker shut, I'd +just make another excuse for not having everything I needed for class, its +not like anything new. "If you don't know by now you're worse off then I +thought." I slammed my locker shut, and walked off. + +Whenever I have told guys about the above things I have been through they +always feel bad, and they always make a comment that has always confused me, +"Wow you most be REALLY hot!" (Or something to that effect). + +If that's how guys tell girls that they think they are really hot, no wonder +we have so many of the problems that we do in society today! + +In 1991, a girl named Katie Lyle, from Duluth, Minnesota changed history with +her story of sexual harassment, and her case and others like it, shaped the +law and high figures to realize that there IS a problem and that they need to +find ways to help these girls (and guys). There was a law passed in +Minnesota that ALL schools no matter what level MUST have a policy on +sexual harassment by the fall of 1992. + +Remaining at the HS I originally went to, the two original guys ended up +leaving. One got to finish the year because they had paid for it, and was +not allowed to ever return to school there, or any school function. The +other was able to come back that next year, though he never did finish that +year at the HS. During my second year of HS, I did a LOT of research into +sexual harassment, got in touch with Katie Lyle, and started working with +some people on the state and national level. + That third year of HS, I was put into a different class 'track', so I +could be in classes with different kids then the ones that were the main +participants in the sexual harassment from the previous years. Also that +year, I addressed the school board, faculty, teachers, and staff on the +issue of Sexual Harassment, and helped them in coming up with a policy on +sexual harassment. For the next three years, I worked with girls in younger +grades in that HS and others fight against sexual harassment, and helped +give them ideas of what to do to help themselves, so they are not just +another victim. + +The funny thing about that first year in HS, I never did go out on a single +date, to a single party, or anything with anyone anywhere. I did not even +date anyone until after HS, and I never even had my first kiss until I was +18, and it was someone who kissed me against my will. Always wore baggy +clothes, and nothing ever low-cut. But, when people decide to single you +out, I guess nothing matters, except that they picked you and you need to +find a way to fight it. + +Since HS, I have had some more bad experiences with guys, having them try +to pressure me into having sex, not having sex - but heavily making out and +doing other things, I really got into some deep holes. But, I am out of them +now, and each day it is still a struggle. + +When you have people telling you things, everyday for a number of days, that +turn into months, and even in some cases, years it effects you. Anyone can +get use to anything, given enough time, just some things you should NOT need +to get use to living. + +Because of what I went through, it is a daily struggle for me, dealing with +self-esteem, self-motivation, and most of all confidence. No matter what I +weigh, the way my hair is cut, or clothes I wear, I find myself looking into +the mirror at times, and feeling like I am a stranger to myself, because what +I see is not who I am, because I was never able to become who I was, because +people took that away from me. Now after so many years, I am finally +beginning to dress where I am not some box-shape, and after having a lot of +difficulty with food, I am beginning to eat properly, and not tear myself to +shreds. + +The reason I have written all of this, is not because I wanted to make you +uncomfortable, but because I wanted to make you realize, that things can be +going on that you have no idea that they are happening. That fourth year +of HS, towards the end of the school year, at a class retreat, at the end of +the day, we could all get up in front of the class, and say something to +everyone. By this time, I had gotten over some shyness, from having been +on-line. And, I knew if I never said anything then, I never would ... before +I knew it I found myself standing up in front of them, and telling them all: +"I could say that I am going to miss you all and never forget you ... but +that would not be true. I could say that you are all very +special to me, and I suppose that is true in some cases. Some of you may +know this, because I have hinted to it, in different classes over this past +year, but today is about forgiveness, moving on, and letting things go... +so I am going to let some things go. " + I went on and to tell them what my first year was like, and that the two +that started it were not there with us that day, and others were not there +that day that should have been, because for whatever reason it seems that +our class was good at one thing, ganging up on people. They were able to +get rid of some, but I was there, and I was glad to be going. Some of them +had really hurt me, that first year, but actually redeemed themselves to me, +after (and I named some of them) and then some of them I had known for eight +years or even longer (named some of them), and then there were a few of them +that had come into the class from other schools, and had not been there all +four or five years, and it was to those people that hadn't and always +wondered why I was so quiet at times, or why I would seem so cold to others, +that now they knew why. But, I was letting all of that go that day, and it +was my hope, that years from now when we look back we can look at where we +are, and know that we learned something, that we could actually someday +learn how to care for each other. That we stopped just assuming people +were one way, and actually got to know them, like a few did with me (and +I named some of them), thanked them for their friendship and let them know +that it really meant a lot to me (and I named some more of them). Afterwards, +I sat down, and when everyone else was done, I was pulled aside by +someone, then another, and another and another. All girls, not one of the +guys could look me in the eyes. On the bus, back to school, everyone was +quiet. I went to my locker, got my jacket and left. That next day, was +different. People apologizing to me, asking me how I was, giving me hugs, +and others just talking with me, like they were all of sudden friends +with me. + +It's important to get to really know what is going on, before you say you +know what is going on, because usually you only know a piece of it. + +If someone is hurting you, tell them, tell others, don't just sit and take +it. And, if someone is doing something to you, that you know is against the +law, or would make you a victim, don't just sit and be a victim, DO +SOMETHING ABOUT IT! Let yourself, help yourself. + +- Anonymous +11/14/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0450.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0450.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4653d2cc --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0450.txt @@ -0,0 +1,128 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the fallen + ---------- + + The Devil closed his Book and stretched, allowing his fingertips + to lightly touch the clouds. He assumed his Man Cloak and walked the + streets of New York City, his favorite place to visit. With a practiced eye + he studied junkies and whores, weighing their usefulness. He watched + tattered children skulk in the shadows and likened them to his minions, + adorable and afraid. + + There's one. He watched her sip from a chipped coffee cup, + shivering in the bright warmth of an all-night diner. She wore chain mail + and leather, and her arms were striped with razor scars. She was pale + and brilliant, and he knew he could Use Her. + + "Mind if I sit with you for a moment?" + + She raised her eyes and took in the gothic stranger who had + just swept in from the October chill. A capsule of cold air hung around + him like a cape, and his black eyes glittered in the fluorescent lights. + + "Why not?" + + He nodded and suddenly he was sitting in the booth across from + her, one swift smooth movement, graceful and feline. He removed his leather + gloves, revealing unnaturally thin hands tipped with slightly pointed smoke + colored fingernails. He ordered a cup of coffee from the wraith-like + waitress and waited to see if she would speak. + + His coffee arrived, steaming and thick. She was looking at him, + her large green eyes unwavering and only mildly curious. He smiled. + + "Do you hurt, Arya?" + + She did not flinch, and he was pleased. How rare it was to find + such a human, accepting of things she could not understand. She calmly + lit a cigarette and allowed the smoke to escape gently, like a veil + obscuring the beauty of her face. + + "Sometimes. You?" + + He licked his lips in anticipation, tongue darting blackly. She would + sign his Book on this night. + + "Always. But that is the way of the world, is it not?" + + She sat back, still holding her cigarette, and gazed at the 13 o' clock + street clamor. She swallowed softly. + + "I don't think so. There is always hope." + + "Hope! How much hope did you have when you sliced your arms with + that sexy razor? Did you pray to God to save you from this horrible world as + your blood dripped softly on the bathroom tile?" + + The scars on her arms appeared to glow as he spoke, taunting her with + their horror and despair. She paused for an eternity. + + "No. Did you pray to God when he threw you from Heaven and your + angelic body cracked the earth with the weight of it's faithlessness?" + + His eyebrows quivered into the slightest of frowns. His form shimmered, + and he had to concentrate for a moment to remain in his human form. + + "What do you mean?" + + She loomed forward, the silver of her chainmail shirt glittering. The + cross at her throat dangled menacingly, and he shrank from her minutely. + + "Answer the question." + + "Yes, I prayed to God. He betrayed me. He would not Listen. I just + wanted him to Hear me." + + She sat back again and nodded thoughtfully. He waited. + + "And so War was waged." + + "Yes, War. His filthy Angels sought to destroy me and the Others + He threw. We had to fight back." + + Suddenly he was tired, and his shoulders drooped with the + unconscious weight of remembering. + + "But..." + + She focused on him intently. + + "But I know now that I was wrong. This is why I have no hope, + because I know He will never have me back. He will not Hear me." + + A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and he could hear + the roar of his minions in Hell. An icy rain began to pour outside the + instant his tear dropped to the table. He shivered. + + She stood slowly and dropped a five on the table. Smoothly she leaned + over to him and kissed him on the cheek. Moving her lips to his ear, she + whispered the Words he'd longed for for centuries. + + "Come Home to Me, Lucifer. I Forgive You." + + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0451.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0451.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..762b31e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0451.txt @@ -0,0 +1,279 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Honor Among Thieves + ------------------- + + Mark had been with this crew for over a year now. As was custom, +you just didn't ask a lot of questions. He knew very little about the +others in the group, only that once every month they would get together, +run a score, and back to the daily life of each. One of four, yet as +a team they were not to be trifled with. A special task force had +been formed three and a half years ago to try and catch the leader of +this crew. Over the years, members would filter in and out, but one +had stayed in seemingly forever. + He didn't know much about Jeremy as a person. He could attest +to Jeremy's technical skill when it came to crime. Top of the line entry +guy, good with planning and strategy, equally proficient with explosives, +sharpshooter, electronics, you name it.. Jeremy could do it. Despite +his wide variety of skills, most scores relied on having a well trained +crew that trusted each other, that worked well together. Getting on his +team was more difficult than getting any job or car loan. Very few people +knew about his team, fewer made it on. + There were maybe five teams across the world of this caliber, and +he was on it. Sometimes it bug him that he couldn't talk about it, +couldn't tell his friends what an honor it was. Funny he should think of +that word, because most criminals were without honor. It was something +that no one could understand unless they were within the criminal element. +Most 'good' people couldn't comprehend the thought of 'honor' and 'thief' +in the same sentence. Yet it was there.. a strict yet unofficial code +many of them lived by. Jeremy demanded it of his team at all costs. + + Conner had been with the team for almost two years from what +he knew. As far as a timeline, he had no idea how long Jeremy was +active before the task force was formed, only events since that. +New to the team was Ben. As was procedure, all members of the crew +had to meet and agree on any new members, but Jeremy had final say. +Ben had come highly recommended from the network, possessed all +the skills needed to fill in the recently retired Lane, and seemed +like a good guy all around. As with most new members, proficiency +was rarely a problem, liking the person was the issue. + + The night had come for their monthly score. The pace Jeremy +kept was beautiful. Instead of going for super high risk, super high +payoff, he used his skill to plan moderate hits. Each month would bring +them money to live six months. This allowed each member to put away +money for a healthy and early retirement. In trade for smaller scores, +the risk was almost non-existent to them. One thing that you never +saw in these groups was the cut this group experienced. It was customary +that a leader take an increased percentage for planning and 'allowing' +others to join in. With Jeremy, it was different. Most hits, he took +a smaller percentage than anyone else, sometimes just enough to live +comfortably until the next score. + They sat in the basement of some rented house, preparing for +the hours to come. Plans of the building, highlighted routes to take, +backup plans, emergency escape routes, frequencies of police, even +alternate scores nearby if the original couldn't be worked out. Once +everyone had given indication they were ready, they headed out. As +was customary in groups of this nature, an unofficial 'rank' was held +by each member based on time with the group. That put Conner in second, +him in third, and Ben in fourth. Since joining the group, there was +never a time where this came up, but the feeling was always present, +and fully understood. + + Mark sat there with Jeremy on the fire escape, quietly watching +the neighborhood below. The watch showed ten more minutes before they +had to move, giving them both reason to lean back against the wall. +Looking at Jeremy he noticed his ever vigilant eyes scanning the scene +below, a slight smile trying to escape. + + "Can I ask you a question Jeremy?" + + "Of course, what's up?" + + "Well, I was just wondering why you always took a smaller + cut than the rest of us. I mean, you plan these hits + with such precision, you catch every little detail, and + basically provide a fullproof plan. The scores are always + well worth it financially.. and other team leads out there + seem to take more in return for that. Why are you different?" + + "Hm.. strange that you are the first to ask. Hell, Conner has + never put that question to me. Anyway, because of certain + incidents in my past, I value loyalty more than you know. + There is a certain honor among thieves that I look for. That + honor is worth a lot to me, especially in the network now. + More and more upstarts are in it for all the wrong reasons, + and would kill their mother to score an extra dollar. That + is wrong." + + "Yeah, I have run into a couple like that. Didn't like any part + of them so I always moved on. Dunno what it is about them, but + I definitely know what you are talking about." + + "As I said, past incident have taught me that honor among thieves + is foremost in the network, whether people know about it or not. + Long ago I vowed never to be in the position where I had to deal + with dishonor like that. So, I struck out on my own, and here + I am. That is one of the reasons I take my time finding new people + to hook up with. Just not worth the the time to deal with someone + like that." + + "Figured it was something like that, but just wanted to see what + you thought. Thanks Jeremy." + + "Yup." + + The watch set them into motion. Mark reached into a bag next to +him and drew out a grappling iron. Out of the corner of his eye he could +see Jeremy nod, triggering his throw. The iron flew out away from the +building, dragging a soft black rope behind it. The graceful arc it formed +took it over a twenty foot alley and onto the far side of the opposite +roof. Pulling it taught, he felt it latch onto the AC unit resting on +stilts. Silently, the two thieves swung out onto the rope and slid +down. + Jeremy went into action once on the roof. Unpacking various gear, +he set up shop in front of the door that provided roof access. It took +him several minutes to setup a temporary bypass for the alarm, and only +twenty seconds to pick the lock of the door. What was that, five minutes +total to get into the building? With an appreciative smile he patted +Jeremy on the back once and handed him a black duffel bag. Both slipped +into the building, empty bags in hand. He gave a radio check to the other +team and slid down two flights of stairs. + Twelve minutes, thirty seconds.. to the second, and they were +back on the roof, each with one full bag. Radio check showed the streets +were clear, so they made their escape, cleaning their tracks. When the +police arrived the next day, they would find no signs of forced entry, +no fingerprints, nothing on the cameras in the building, no heat sensors +tripped, motion detectors still armed, and one cabinet completely +empty of its normal contents. + + Profits from that score were nice. They were all amazed at how +much clients were paying for information. This last score was one set +of manuals from the corporate office of Brindel Security Systems, giving +full details of bypassing every alarm they were capable of installing. +It was ironic that Jeremy could already do it, but the client wanted +the complete set of manuals, nothing else. + + =-= + + The new month had arrived, drawing them all to the rented +basement like moths to the flame. As countless months before, they +planned out the score for that night, drilling the plans into their +head. Once done with the plans, they decided to split up for dinner +before heading on to the site. He and Conner wrapped up and headed +for the door, with plans to hit Arby's. Before he could get out +the door, Jeremy asked him to stay for a minute. Conner continued +outside to wait. + + "Thanks for staying Mark.." + + "No, glad you said something. I had a question about tonight + but didn't want to bring it up in front of the others." + + "I figured you would wonder, so its better that you ask now + instead of doubt later." + + "Yeah. Well, obviously I would be better suited on the back + entrance with you. And, you seem to split the team so that + you are always with me or Conner.. why Ben?" + + "I guess a test of sorts. I have doubts, and this should + alleviate those concerns." + + "Gotcha.. see you later" + + Dinner was un-eventful, he and Conner sat in near silence. +Both silently reviewed the plans to make sure everything would be +fine. Even though they rarely teamed up, conversation didn't seem +natural between them, so neither forced the issue. They wrapped it +up and headed out to get ready. + + They were all in place at midnight. Things were going smooth +as usual. Six minutes after the patrol car turned the corner, Jeremy +gave the word that set them into action. He and Conner entered through +the second story side window as planned. Unlike other hits, this one +involved three people doing entry, only one on watch because of the +relaxed environment. Also unusual was the time they spent in the place, +almost three hours.. and the time crawled like never before. + + =-= + + He and Conner were the first ones back to the basement. It would +be another fifteen minutes before the other two arrived, so they set +down their bags on the table, prepared to view the loot. Instead of +emptying his bag he stepped back a few paces and reached to his back. +It had never been used before, and he was scared of his own actions now, +but it had to be done. While Conner emptied his sack, he screwed the +suppressor onto the end of the .22 and leveled it at his team mate. + A guttural cough was all it took to make Conner realize something +was amiss. He turned to face his friend, and found a problem. + + "Why Conner?" + + "What the fuck are you talking about?" + + "You know the rules, why steal from the rest of the team? + From Jeremy?" + + "Man, you have flipped.. what are you talking about + stealing?" + + "Third room on the left, roughly eight thousand dollars + in the fourth drawer down. I was watching from the door." + + "You must be tripping or something. There was no money.." + + "Last chance. Please.. please don't make me do this..." + + "Fuck you.." + + "Honor among thieves... rule number one. Honor among + thieves...." + + With a look of anguish, he chambered the first round, and +waited five seconds. After no response he held the gun up and fired +once. Conner went reeling back, the force of the bullet strong enough +to knock the other man down. His first and only shot pierced Conner's +heart, killing Conner almost instantly. The shot stunned him.. he had +never shot anyone before. Time escaped him as he stared at the body, +the world around him far away. + + He heard a muffled voice from somewhere. Again. A third time +and he realized it was his name. The fourth time and he snapped +back to this world and looked around. Jeremy stood at the door, his +face featureless. Now that he thought about it, he had just killed +the second, without consulting the first. Without a word, he turned +to face Jeremy, gun still leveled. + As soon as he realized he was aiming the gun at Jeremy he +pushed it out, bringing no reaction from Jeremy. As he sat there +with arm outstretched, gun leveled, he could barely comprehend +his actions. He let go of the gun, letting it spin around his trigger +finger, and the gun came to a rest barrel down. He nodded once indicating +that Jeremy should take the weapon. As he let go of the gun, his arm +dropped down to his side. + + "I can explain everything Jeremy.." + + "Hmm.. this gun seems light." + + Jeremy pulled the clip out and held it up to the dim light +in the room. It was as he suspected. + + "You only had one shot Mark.." + + "Yes. I never wanted to use it, but I carry the gun for that + reason specifically. Conner stole from you. From all of us." + + "I know. I saw him do it tonight, as well as times before.." + + "You..you knew?!" + + "I never said who I was testing earlier. Welcome to my + family... brother." + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0452.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0452.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..40d5b4fb --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0452.txt @@ -0,0 +1,96 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + My Sin + ------ + +Each morning I wake to the sight of my puter, sitting proudly beside me, +waiting eagerly to be lit... It beckons to me.. Calls out.. Begs me to +play with it once again.. And then it happens... I become her once +again.... and my puter beeps it's pleasure... + +There was this time when I would wake up in the morning, look out my window +and think that it was good to be alive... And now.. She calls out to me.. +Takes me into that place that I fear the most.. Exposes me for the fraud +that I am... And the truth envellops me.... + +I am not longer the person who was born to my name some twenty years ago.. +I am no longer the smiling, laughing little girl, who used to look forward +to each new challenge... Once exposed to the heat of the underground life, +I stopped to exist... And she took over... + +Deep down, I truly belive that everyone has another persona just waiting to +come out into the fresh air.. To take over and heal all the hurt.. To +weave a new life from the torn cloth that was your life... And, once they +immerge, it is impossible to push them back.. It is too... simple... too +easy... to let them handle all the pain.. Too easy to let them take over +and care for you... To smother you in love... Well... at least to smother +you.... + +She came out nearly six years ago now... I cannot make her leave me be... +And yet, I do not want to... I know that were she to leave, I would be +alone again.. The hurt would rush back and consume me... That I would have +to truly kill myself this time... + +That bastard made her exist... She was quite content to sit back and let +me fuck my own life up by myself... Until he took me.. Invaded me... +Flooded me full of his essence... Claimed me as his... And then left me +when better goods came along... + +There was a time when I thought that I would give my virginity to the man +that I would marry... What a fool I was.... The bastard came and took it +from me.... He didn't even ask... He just took... Like all men... Take +and take until nothing is left... Taking until you bankrupt yourself... + +But, she came and made it better.... Jade.... She made it better.... + +She walked in and saw the mess that was looming... She smiled patiently +and held me while I cried... She told me that all would be alright... She +gave me the strength to survive once more... She showed me that I was not +wrong.. That that bastard was to blame... And that he would pay... And +she made him pay..... So, so dearly... + +I have always wondered if the rumours that Heaven exists are true... If +there truly is one onmipotent Being who will take away all the sorrow and +replace it with only joy... That for the rest of time, we may live in the +Light, and not have to cower in the Dark anymore... Somehow, I think that +it is all just some trick... A trick to get us to congregate ourselves +into little herds so that we might be eliminated in groups as opposed to +one by one... If this is all a rumour, if there is no Heaven, what sick +bastard thought it up in the first place? Should we not all hunt him down +and slaughter him as he has done to us? He, who would rip our hope from +ourselves and place it into the hands of others? How dare he do that to +us... How dare we believe him? + +I know now that if there truly is a Heaven that I will not be there... I +know that the Darkness will consume my flesh as it has my soul... I only +wonder what I would be like had that bastard not taken my heart from me... +Had he not taken the hope of a child away from her, where would I be now? +Would I be like this? Would I be... happy? Can I even ever be happy +again? Will I even know how to tell? She took most of my memoried from me, +she did, in order that I might survive.... The only sad part is that the +happiness had to go with it... I should be thankful... I am alive, right? + + +- Jade + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0453.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0453.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..925caf5c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0453.txt @@ -0,0 +1,101 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the fates + --------- + + henry jones was a lucky man. great job, three smart kids, adoring + wife. he had his life all planned. college for the children, then + a long, healthy retirement in boulder, colorado. it was perfect. + he knew it would be. + + but things began to go wrong. his sweet little janey got caught smoking pot at school. tim, his youngest, was diagnosed with + attention deificit disorder and a learning disability. and chris, + a senior in high school, shot himself in the head on christmas + eve. his wife started to drink heavily, and the bedroom shades + stayed closed until noon every day. the bed - well, the bed was + just closed. + + he was laid off in august, on a particularly steamy day. he only + had 2 weeks severance pay and his retirement savings to keep his + family going. worse, he had to admit his wife into rehab at the + tune of 18oo bucks a day, which meant that he had to hire a + babysitter every day while he was job hunting. money was running + out fast, and boulder was rapidly becoming a long-lost dream. + + early one afternoon, after an interview, he sat at his kitchen + table, mutely glaring at the cat, who had developed cancer and + was wheezing unhappily on the floor. the phone rang. + + "what?" + + "henry.." + + "yes, dad, what can i do for you? i am kinda busy right now, and.." + + "henry, your mother was killed in a car accident today. i need your + help making funeral arrangements." + + henry swallowed. + + "sure, dad. i will be over early tomorrow." + + henry quietly hung up the phone and looked at the cat again. + unfortunately, during his brief conversation, the cat had finally + died. he sighed and gently took the limp body to the backyard to + bury it. + + what had gone wrong? where had all of this bad luck come from? + what had he done to deserve this? he didn't know, but he wished his + luck would change. + + a few days after his mother's funeral, henry's house was broken + into. every piece of electronics he owned was gone. it turned out + that his daughter's friends were the the perps, and she was implicated. + this meant court, which meant lawyers he could not afford. sadly, + he told his daughter she would have to use a public defender, and + he quietly shut himself in his bedroom. + + a few weeks later, the phone rang again. this time, it was one of + his employment prospects telling him he had a job. he was thrilled. + finally, something had gone right. he got in his car. it was winter + now, and the roads were icy. henry lost control of his car and smashed + into a tractor trailer. he was killed instantly. + + *** + + three women sat around an ancient marble table. they passed around a + single eye, each one of them examining a golden scale that sat in the + center of the table. one of them placed a weight onto the scale and + passed the eye to the woman next to her, who looked into a small crystal + encrusted in the scale. she watched henry smash into a tractor trailer + and giggled. + + "oops". + + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + http://www.demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0454.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0454.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..17da93ba --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0454.txt @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Symbolic Nipple + ------------------- + + Every year governments all over the world spend hundreds of millions +of dollars on anti-smoking campaigns in an effort to convince people of the +fact that smoking is a major health hazard. In these campaigns they usually +show the black stained lungs or the gruesome tumors of heavy smokers. And +still, in spite of the aggressive approach, an incredible number of people +are inhaling the carcinogens contained by tobacco day after day. At first +one could say that ignorance of the hazards contributed to the large tobacco +consumption, but nowadays every smoker or non-smoker knows how dangerous +smoking is. So one might ask: "Why are millions of people putting their +health at stake for such a stupid habit?" Opinions diverge on this matter. +Some people think nicotine is the one responsible, but the poor result of +nicotine Band-Aids proves that we have to look elsewhere. The psychological +addiction seems the most obvious, but what exactly is the psychological +process behind this habit? + Again various hypotheses exist, but one in particular stands out. +It's the explanation put forth by Desmond Morris, a famous British +anthropologist. In his book Intimate Behaviour he says about cigarettes: + +"...having something between the lips is a comforting experience for the +human animal, since it spells reassuring contact with the primary +protector, the mother.(...)The object [cigarette] feels soft between the +lips and the smoke warms it, which makes it even more like the genuine +mother's nipple than a rubber dummy. Furthermore, the sensation of +something being sucked out of the end of it and drawn down the throat +adds to the illusion. A new symbolic equation is set up: warm inhaled +smoke equals mother's warm milk." (Morris 1971) + + At first Morris' approach may seem a little far fetched, but if +one starts thinking about it another conclusion might be reached. Is it +a coincidence that people usually smoke in stressful situations or at +parties, where they could sure use a comforting and reassuring nibble at +their mother's nipple? Is it a coincidence that the actual smoke of a +cigarette has very little biological effect, but that in practice it is +often as soothing as a dummy for a crying infant? In fact many more clues +point to the correctness of Morris' theory and as Freudian and far fetched +as it may seem, it deserves consideration. It is a known fact that +consuming lollipops and chewing gum are often good ways to keep yourself +from smoking. Again, is it a coincidence? + If more research is done into Morris' theory there is a good chance +that substitutes of smoking will be found that are socially more acceptable +than sucking a baby's dummy or a lollipop. These new substitutes will +incline more and more smokers to switch from their unhealthy habit to a +soothing but harmless form. If adolescents are made aware of the +alternatives they will probably prefer the harmless form over the unhealthy +smoking and in this way these new substitutes will even prevent people from +starting to smoke. + The ineffectiveness of traditional campaigning has proved that a new +approach is needed and it's clear that we must do more research in the +psychology of smoking instead of going around slapping smokers' hands. So, +until there is a better alternative, every time you feel the need of a +cigarette just take a lollipop from your pocket and nibble away! + + +NtT 6(e-mail:zweistein@cryogen.com) + +Works cited: Morris, Desmond Intimate Behaviour. Random House, Inc., + New York. 1971. pg. 195. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0455.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0455.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..51fc6e51 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0455.txt @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Mirrors of Years + ---------------- + +There are so many parts to me, that no one could ever possibly know them all. + +Mirrors when I was little, were gateways to different worlds. Just like in +Alice in Wonderland: The Looking Glass, or in the movie: Legend. They were +pieces of glass, I could get totally lost and absorbed in, a world that was +unlike the one I resided in. Spending hours in front of the mirror, +wondering what made things the way they were, and what would make things +the way they would be, someday. + +Nowadays, when I see a mirror, I avoid looking at it. But, one night, I +closed my door, and there was my full length mirror. Only for a fleeting +moment, I felt the curiosity of knowing once again. Finding out the +secrets of the world of mirrors. My jaw dropped, from what I saw in that +mirror that night. The one staring back at me, I did not recognize; the way +she talked, the way she dressed, looked ... and her eyes! Her eyes were as +if bottomless pools, that held every emotion ever felt, with shadows of some +emotions. Shattered pieces of joy, outlined the surrounding of her eyes, +happiness once a friend shimmered in the whites of her eyes. The dark green, +were pieces of contempt, hatred, and shame. The black part of her eyes, +that was the scariest of all. Endless, spiraling end. An end, that would +continue destroying the one that once looked at the world of mirrors with +such happiness, creativity and excitement for life. + +Letting the pieces of cloth fall from her shoulders, taking note of the +condition of her body, it had shape now, filled out, and no longer looked +like a little kids. As if seeing through some sort of special glasses, I +could see where every mark or scar was or is, and every where ones had +touched. There was something about her breath, the one in the mirror - a +breath of carelessness, of denial. + +Laying down in bed, looking up to the ceiling, I promise never to look into +the mirrors again. + +There are so many pieces of me, no one knows all. Sometimes I wonder if I +even do. + +Things certain people say, I will react in different ways. There is the side +of me that my family knows, work knows, friends. Friends ... now they see +several different me's depending on which set of friends. + +Though, there is one thing that ties all of these different parts together, +and that is my heart. My heart holds all the scares, shattered pieces, +seams, cuts, walls, memories, loves, hates, and emotions that I have ever +felt. To know me, know my heart ... + +To get to my heart ... you need to know how to live your life with your +heart. Instead of the way I have lived mine, at times. + +Shadows linger deep within me, at times they are stronger and wider, then my +heart. Other times, my heart is so large, that others are always around me. +Then there are times like today ... where my heart is still, the shadows calm +and it is as if I am looking into that mirror again. + +Seeing myself, a way that I wish I never had ... mirrors. They reflect so +much. Sometimes, they can reflect things others do not see, and we do not +know. Mirrors ... something I always wish I could ignore, but am always +drawn back to, someday. + +Within the mirror, are all the parts of me, for my heart, still longs to find +that mirror, that will only take me, and never return me. For, a mirror with +no image, is one that I wish to be. Or maybe, I wish for an image that does +not sicken me? + + +- Kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0456.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0456.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1c10be92 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0456.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + More.... + -------- + +*sighs* He has not called me again... I am not sure what I am supposed to +do, or what I am supposed to say... I know that we have just met each +other, but, I have not heard from him in days... Yes, we only went out on +one date, but, does this lack of response mean that he does not want to see +me anymore? What is wrong with me, that he does not want to see me? Did I +say something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Does he even remember my +name? + +Life on line is not even half as complicated... People lie to you, sure, +but, at least they either pretend to like you or tell you to go away.. Why +can't -real- life be like that? Why is it once I turn my 'puter off, things +suddenly seem dreary? Why can my real life not look like the one that I +have on line? When will it ever occur to me just not to log off? Sure, I +am just one of the millions on line, the nameless, hidden drones, the sad +and lonely looking for the life that they are missing... + +I have often wondered why it is that there seem to be so many lonely people +on line, and so few in the -real- world... Why can I never find these men +craving love in my own life? Why do they all have to be hundreds of miles +away? Why do I feel like the only lonely person in the world, knowing that +there is no one near me, even remotely close to me, that will be there for +me? What is wrong with me? + +I talked to my virtual lover again today... Dreaming about him lately does +nothing but upset me, and I am finding that I will have to replace him very +soon... He no longer fills the void in my life.. No longer makes me smile +at his childish antics... No more makes me crave his presence.... He no +longer does anything for me... I am not sure when he stopped being my +drug... Numbing the pain that surrounded me... The pain that invaded my +soul... The same pain that makes me laugh when -he- talks about my +heart... What heart? I gave that damn thing up years ago... The minute +that I came on line, and realized that there was a life for me here... A +place where I could be accepted... A place where I could always find some +lamer to impress... A place where I could rule... and be respected... + +I don't want to turn my 'puter off tonight... I am strangely affected by +this pain lately... It makes me want to cry... I have not cried in +years... And yet, the thought of turning off my sustenance, it makes me +flinch... As though I was a coma patient waiting for someone to pull the +plug... I will die without it.... + +Why has he not called me? It has been days... Four days, actually... +Should I call him? Does he want to hear from me? Am I simply a nuisance +to him? God damn it... Why can I not understand real people anymore? I +used to know what to do... Now, I just want to log on... I know how +things work here... Why don't they work in real life? Why are people so +hurtful... so mean... so... vivid... in real life? Where are all the +lonely people? Why are they not here with me, lamenting over the state of +the world, telling me that they are here for good? When did 'forever' go +from meaning just that to meaning 'until I tire of you'? What is it about +me that drives everyone away? + +I called him at work.... He sounded happy to hear from me... He even put +someone on hold to talk to me... Does this mean that all is well? Does it +mean that I should call him again? Or, does it mean that he will now call +me? Had he forgotten me? Or was he just busy, like we can all get at +times... *sighs* Ah well... Back to sitting beside the phone, waiting +for him... Wanting him... Hoping against all hope that he will take me +away from myself... That this time, when I hear 'forever', I can believe +it.... That I can get back that part of me.. the part that felt +-any-thing... The part that I thought lost forever.... If only forever +didn't mean just that this time.... *sighs* + + +Jade. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0457.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0457.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9080dfe7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0457.txt @@ -0,0 +1,81 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Lost Children + ------------- + + Dedicated to Michelle, + and any others out there who want their childhood back. + + + Why do we have to grow up? Why do I have to worry about whether +or not I'll be able to get a job when school is finished? Why do I have +to put away the toys and friends of yesterday and embrace a cold, racist +future? Why do I have to worry about more than "playtime" and cartoons? + + I wish not to grow up. I can always say that I am a child at +heart. I can play with my younger cousins, and the children of my older +cousins. I can watch cartoons, and "play". But I am not a child. I have +to worry about not getting lost in a sea of mindless drones who go to +work everyday. I have to worry about looking in the newspaper every +morning to see the greatest minds of our generation dying. I have to +worry about death, and whether I will die alone. I have fear, and others +have prejudice. I am no longer a child. + + I spent my childhood, in fact, worrying about school, and tests. +I worried about disappointing my parents, and being friendly to +strangers". But if I had never been kind to a "stranger", I would have +no friends. I have to worry now about whether my friends will go to jail +some day, and whether my friend has died when he does not return home at +night. I have to worry, and I cannot relax. I cannot truly take a "nap" +because I find no true rest. + + I spend money on Christmas presents because I want to. But there +was a time when I would only receive presents, and that was fine by me. +I want to return to that care-free state. And because some children get +nothing on Christmas, I am lucky. I do not feel lucky. I feel like I was +robbed of my childhood, by ignorance and shame. I feel like I was not +truly allowed to be friends with everyone that I could've, because they +might not have liked the sneakers I was wearing, or because they were +too afraid to talk to people. I am sick when I realize that while I was +doing "homework" which I have, to this day, found no use for, I could've +been playing a sport, or making new friends. I look at my entire +so-called "childhood", and I realize that it was training - work +designed to ready me for the shithole the world has become. And I want +to abandon the "civilization" that surrounds me, with its shootings and +self-abuse. I want to return to the animal world from which we came, +where animals fought only for food, and there was relative peace. Sure, +there would be some small conflict, but I wouldn't worry about having +the flesh torn from my bones by a bomb that my own ignorant race +developed. + + I had no true childhood, and yet, I had a better one than some. + I am sickened by my society. + A society that we will inherit, + that we do not want. + + Anarchy + AoC - Agents Of Chaos - The Digital Mafia + http://www.disembodied.com/agentsofchaos/ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0458.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0458.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b1896c4c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0458.txt @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Remaining + --------- + +I was born and pretty much raised in Aurora. It's the armpit part of the +suburbs, but kids don't usually notice that kind of thing when it's all +they know. I used to play under the bridges supporting I-25 and chase the +pigeons out of their nests. I used to walk or ride my bike up to the Aurora +Mall, which quickly became an unsafe place to be. I used to pretend that +the vegetated areas around the heavily polluted Highline Canal were +somewhere unreachable by the rest of the world. We knew all of our +neighbors for 3 blocks in each direction and they all said hello to me +when I rode by on my dirt bike. I always imagined that it would be pretty +bitchin' to live somewhere else, to be somewhere I had never been, but I +really was pretty content with where I was. Wanting to be gone was enough. + +Just days after my twelfth birthday, my family moved to a rural town about +30 miles away from Aurora. It was an eternity away from what I knew as my +life. Conveniently, this was at the tail end of my childhood memories. A +rather clean break from the first part of my life and I hated it. I had +no friends at all for the first two years after we moved because I had +suddenly become "weird." I failed a class for the first time in my life. +Our nearest neighbors were not visible from the house and we lived 3 miles +away from town (needless to say, entirely too far to just walk to). + +Eventually things got better and I made it out of my rut - as most mildly +well-adjusted people eventually do - and everything around me became my +life again. I found the other freaks and made some of the best friends I +will ever have. I got into and out of drugs, got a license and a car and +a grudge against the world. Every once in a while I would go back to Aurora +and see all the places that I used to know so well and I would get these +amazing bouts of nostalgia. I would go out of my way to drive through my +old neighborhood and see my former house. But I still saw everything +through my childhood's eyes. I never saw the street corner; I saw the +corner we used to skate on. I couldn't see the pedestrian overpass; I +saw the big ugly green bridge we used to avoid having to walk over. I +had a perfectly preserved vacuum of everything the way it used to be, +and I saw it all so infrequently that it could remain preserved. + +After high school I made my way to the University life that was on the +other side of the state. Another clean break. But this was much easier +and better. I was go glad to be out of my parents' house, get away from +everything that had gotten stale and recreate myself to a whole new +group of strangers. Strangely, I was in Aurora more during my first +three years of College than my whole Jr. high and High School career. I +met new people who lived in and near my old neighborhood, so I got to see +that area more frequently. I was suddenly driving down streets I only +remembered walking down before. Every time I drove down them they became +a little more common to me again. + +At the end of my junior year at the university, I left the college and +moved back to Aurora. Now I do errands in the mini malls I used to hang +out at and I can't see my friends sitting on the curb anymore. Even in +the summer, everything seems slightly dimmer than it used to be and it's +getting harder to remember what it used to be like at all. When I was a +kid, I was able to turn anything I saw into anything I wanted it to be +in my head. Now I analyze everything until I am at the very core of what +they are. It's kind of depressing that I have essentially killed off the +aura of my childhood and reduced to a vapid lump of events. I suppose that +is to be expected when you remain in the city you grew up in. Of course, +I still love it here or I would have moved by now but I miss having what +I used to remember. You always lose something. + + +-Wednesday + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0459.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0459.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4788fe83 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0459.txt @@ -0,0 +1,105 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Goth, Hat, and Tie + ------------------ + +It occurred to me today, and yesterday, and the day before.. that a lot +of little things go on in our lives and we have no fucking clue why. +Is there any logic to the moments of madness in our lives? Or maybe I +should qualify that. In particular I am talking about little things +like clothing, custom, etiquette, or 'society norms'. I know I have +touched on a few of these in the past, but I think that put together, +you may question a lot about your daily activities. Especially +if you work, and even better, if you work 'normal' hours. + +When I go to work I have to do a few things that seem absurd. Not only +because I personally don't like to do them, but because I can't figure +out the true logic behind them. Sure, my boss says 'our customers do +it or expect it'. Gee fucking wiz, they are living the same demented +lives without logic or reason, just like us. Two stupids don't make +a right. + +First off, I shave. It has been custom for how many years that people +in a so called professional environment should be either clean shaven +or have a full beard (or mustache). Think about it, the two extremes +of facial hair are 'good', while having a light beard is 'bad'. It used +to be that long unruly beards were the norm, but now short well kept +beards are. What's the difference? As long as it is well kept (not +going down and meeting with the chest hair), and at any length (not +to exceed 'unruly'), what does it matter? + +Next thing I do is put on work clothes. Sure, I will go ahead and agree +that nice pressed pants and nice pressed shirt are aesthetically +pleasing, especially when the entire office dresses that way, but +I do draw the line at the tie. The tie is the most ridiculous piece +of clothing a person can put on. Aside from hanging a noose around +your neck, do you know why a tie is part of tradition? I found out +and laughed. The tie is worn to cover the buttons on your shirt. +The buttons on your standard white dress shirt are near invisible as +is. Aside from that, follow this login: a dress shirt has buttons +which aren't pleasing to the eye (*cough*), so we put a tie around +your neck to hide them. Yet if we wear a nice white tee-shirt, that +isn't dressed up. + +Of course all this is more absurd since I don't deal with customers +on the average day. So now our office is dressing up, even when not +needed, despite not seeing a customer, all on the whim of one +conservative director. Oh yeah. + +So I am driving home and notice another annoying trend. Cowboy hats. +It's dark out, sun has been down for a while, and this schmuck +is driving down the road in his pickup truck wearing a big black +cowboy hat. Why? Because it is now a fashion statement, nothing else. +And a ridiculous one at that. This big unwieldy piece of something is +stuck on your head and blocking half your peripheral view. + +Most of the 'cowboy' fashion is just past trends with lost reasons. +The big belt buckle yet another one. Half these wannabe hicks run around +wearing the stuff and have no clue why. + +I am kicking back at a club nights afterwards, laughing half the night. +The club is called "The Dungeon", which halfway implies a more industrial, +gothic, or bondage club. Low and behold, you have a wannabe rave on one +dance floor, and ambient on the other. I dig ambient, but not to dance +to at a club. So I am in the other room watching these people. Most are +rave kiddies bouncing around doing their style dancing. The other is a mix +of club rejects (or something) that seem out of place. You have one or +two goth types that stick out in new ways. One dances like a rave kiddie +all night, not a graceful bone in his body. The next tries to 'vogue' like +Madonna... to all the rave type songs. No originality in dancing, no +style, no grace. Yet they dress that way because it is popular. How do +I know that is the reason? Because it is in their actions, who they talk +to, how they dance, what songs they know, how self-conscience they +appear, and more. + +I don't know. Just seems a lot of things we do are pointless and not worth +doing. Yet we plod along as if they are requirements to life or something. +I don't think I need to go into what you can do to change this problem, +it is only a matter of action. All I know is that doing what I want to do, +when I want to, and not worrying about how others view me physically +makes me feel comfortable. Why would anyone want any different? + + +- d1s + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0460.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0460.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6aaee5be --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0460.txt @@ -0,0 +1,60 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + new light + --------- + + she sat wonderingly, examining the soft crimson teardrops + welling on her arm. he had kissed her there, so tenderly, + and her flesh had jumped with the wonderfulness of it. + + she had to erase the pleasure. she had to torture the + beloved skin, the organic expanse of what should be numb. + always. she frowned, deep in concentration. she licked her + lip sensuously, carefully tracing thin lines of agony on + her arm. + + it was work, a life's work. her body bore a roadmap of + crisscrossed white scars, coldly reminiscent of the lifeless + maps of storm torn io, Jupiter's cold moon. careful + planning and design went into her pain. there was preparation + involved. + + incense. ashes. a clean cold razor. cold water. tears. + carefully prepared ingredients, properly mixed with soft + shuddery music selected for it's aching phrases. + + she pulled the razor across her skin in a methodical rhythm, + sweeping in time to beethoven. a bead of sweat traveled + along the line of her chin and dropped into the pool of blood + breathing on her arm. *a little more over here.* + + now, perfection. he would never want to kiss her there again. + no one would ever want to love her there again. + + but there was so much more to do. + + demonika (demonika@demonic.com) + http://www.demonic.com + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0461.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0461.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..beeeba0f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0461.txt @@ -0,0 +1,115 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Her and The Stone + ----------------- + +Reading the words that have been pulled up on the screen in front of me, I +crinkle my forehead in concentration, trying to remember if I had written +what I am reading now before me. + +Passing through the paragraphs, I know I have been in those scenes before, +and I close my eyes, as I re-live that part of my life. + +Finishing the file, I see someone elses name. A name that I always felt +was mine, but never used ... I realize that it was not I that wrote it, +but it was just everything that I had meant to write. And thoughts and +experiences that I had lived. + +Thoughts began to flood my mind, of the paranoia kind. + +How had this person gotten in my head, to collect, memorize, and write down +my most inner-most thoughts, memories, and realizations? + +How was I suppose to believe that I had not written those things, and someone +else was just signing their name to them? Looking around my room, I rummage +through everything looking and stacking every last journal and diary and +poem I had ever wrote, every last deep thought jotted down, and every itsy +piece of paper and sayings. Pulling all of it together, in the center of +my floor, I place a leg around each side, and bring my hands over the top +of the pile, as I begin to rapidly skim, like mad to find something missing. +Anything missing that would have possibly given someone that edge to write +something so personal about me, in such a public way. A lump forms in my +throat, and tears spring to my eyes, how could someone expose me that way? +Finally, I let my arms fall down in frustration to my sides. Raising my +head, as my eyes follow upwards towards the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I +wish for the hot flame within me to be put out. This flame of hatred and +fear for the one that has been able to write and publicize such personal +aspects of me. I wish for the gentle cooling of the sky's tears, of rain +now appearing to cleanse this mind and release this heat. + +Beads begin to fall, and make streams down my neck and forehead, my arms, +my legs, my chest, my stomach ... my clothes begin to soak up the rain, as +a shiver begins deep within my body and continues all the way out. My hair +is beginning to be weighted down by the pull of the sky's tears. Steam +rises off of my body, escaping upwards to erase the anger. + +Not wanting the cooling and cleansing to end, I keep my eyes closed, as I +hear the papers, books, journals, diaries, and everything else in front of me +absorb the water, and begin to tear apart. Sighing, I have vented. The +poison escaping through me, being taken away in the rain that now washes me. + +Opening my eyes, as they face the pile that I had gathered in front of me, the +stories, journal entries, notes, poems, thoughts, and everything else now +just wet pulps of what they once were ... never to be read by anyone or heard +by someone. + +Returning to my room, a few days later as the sun shines through the tree +tops I fall to my knees, as I see the pile of dried pulps left in a stack +on the ground. Looking upwards, I see her, sitting there - smiling at me +with an all-knowing glare. Within her hands, are all the things that I +thought had melted away ... she now knows, and loves it. + +I will never understand how she knew, or how she could ever find out ... +for she is no image of me - except in everything she has written or said. +We are not one in the same, yet we are the same. Everyone is different, +yet she somehow seems the same as me. + +Reading the words that have been pulled up on the screen in front of me, I +crinkle my forehead in concentration, trying to remember if I had written +what I am reading now before me. + +Passing through the paragraphs, I know I have been in those scenes before, +and I close my eyes, as I re-live that part of my life. + +Finishing the file, I see someone elses name. A name that I always felt was +mine, but never used ... I realize that it was not I that wrote it, but it +was just everything that I had meant to write. And thoughts and experiences +that I had lived. + +Thoughts began to flood my mind, of the paranoia kind. + +How had this person gotten in my head, to collect, memorize, and write down +my most inner-most thoughts, memories, and realizations? + +I will never understand how she knew, or how she could ever find out ... for +she is no image of me - except in everything she has written or said. We +are not one in the same, yet we are the same. Everyone is different, yet +she somehow seems the same as me. + + +-Kamira +December 18, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0462.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0462.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0196d94e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0462.txt @@ -0,0 +1,128 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hacker Blues + ------------ + +You mail me with bizarre requests... + +You message me on IRC with stupid questions... + +You ask me questions when the answers are flashing in front of you... + +And you dare to call yourself a hacker by any definition of the word. + + +Instead of having a baseline of respect, instead of learning more about +the person you ask questions of, you quickly denounce me as a lamer for +not giving you everything on a silver platter. The first time I don't +give you a full dissertation on why Windows95 can't spoof like a *nix box +can, you call me a fake and try to flood me. + +You ask me how to get free soda from coke machines... + +You ask me how to get free cable and adult channels... + +You ask me how to pirate video tapes or make fake IDs... + + +When I politely tell you that I can't help you, you call me a fake. A +wannabe. A loser. Someone who doesn't know anything. You say I shouldn't +run Windows and laugh at me. I ignore you and log into another one of my +Sparcs. I begin a new compile for the latest version of SSH and glance +back to my IRC window. There you are again, unable to take the hint. + +You ask me for exploits to operating systems you can't use... + +You ask me for PBX information but don't know what it stands for... + +You ask me for credit card generators that haven't been practical for years... + + +I have been here for almost a decade. Some months I am not right here, but I +am always around. I am on IRC to chat with my friends, not hold your hand. +I prefer to stay on a few channels to talk with groups of friends. You join +uninvited, don't bother to see who is here, interrupt our conversation, and +yet I am the dickhead for ignoring you. + +You call me a loser for being on IRC.. by messaging me on IRC... + +You insult my mom because I don't care to decipher your cryptic requests... + +You try to flood me because I don't want you on my channel... + + +Why can't you see how pathetic you are? Hiding behind 'elite' nicknames that +are the result of sticky shift keys. Giving me shit from your AOL and +Compuserve accounts. You mail me and whine because I deny you from my +FTP site. You act like it is your right to access my private system, to use +my bandwidth, my CPU time. The thought of passively watching and reading +lost to you. + +You go so far as to threaten my life over a bunch of 1s and 0s... + +You threaten to ruin my credit and disconnect my phones... + +You say you will hack my system and 'rm' it for being mean to you... + + +And you wonder why I get so disgusted at people like you? You don't +know what things like "local loop", "ESS", or "RCMAC" are, yet you +think for two seconds you can disconnect my phone? Companies like +TRW, CBI, and Equifax are foreign to you, and you think you can +ruin my credit? You portscan my system and have to message me asking +what some of my services are, and you think you can 'rm' my system? + +You quote articles I wrote to me trying to look more intelligent... + +You tell me to go read the files on a website.. that i created... + +You tell me to check out the files on some server.. that i run... + + +And after all this, I am still the 'lamer'. I have no life and no +clue about how things work. I sit on IRC 24 hours a day. My parents +weren't married when I was born. I am 14 years old, 5'0", 310 pounds. +I have no social life, never go outside, and get beat up in school. +Or at least.. that is how I must be according to the rest of you. + +When are you going to wake up and realize that ankle biters like +you are nothing in this world. You can't even get respect in an online +world that basically accepts everyone as equals. You get banned from +channels run by newbies, because they are willing to sit patiently +and learn, while you are running around yelling about how "eleet" you +are. + +Your third grade antics give the rest of us a bad name. You do nothing +productive for the scene, online community, me, and worst of all, you +do nothing for yourself. What does it take to teach people like you +a lesson? How can people like me help you with technical information +when you need help in so many other areas? Why do you live for strife +while claiming to be seeking information? Why can't you see what +is going on? Why do you refuse ANY help for ANY reason? Isn't this +all about learning and helping one another? Why?! + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0463.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0463.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6c0b38a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0463.txt @@ -0,0 +1,151 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + 3 Become 1 + ---------- + +Here are three stories from different stages in my life too short for +individual "F.U.C.K." files so I have combined them into one file. + +STOLEN + +It's amazing to me how some memories stick in my mind even after +twenty years. This story takes us back in the mid 70's when my +parents, sister, and I visited a friend of my dad's in Saint Louis. +The people we visited had a nice home though it was a bit close to +some train tracks on the outskirts of the big city. They had a back +yard big enough for a swing set, a garage separate from the house, +three or four bedrooms and a huge basement with bar and additional +bedroom their teenage son used. These friends were the typical +nuclear family (at the time) with two daughters and one son. I +recall playing on the swing set, burning leaves, and playing around +in the house. My dad actually took some home movies with a camera +that actually used film. So, all our home movies of the time were +silent but the quality is surprisingly good. + +On one occasion all of us children happened to find ourselves in the +basement. All except the teenage son whom I believe worked at a +nearby restaurant as a bus boy. He had an interesting bedroom down +in the basement--dark, lonely, with a nice hi-fi system and a great +set of headphones. Being the curious one I happened to look around +his room (but not in the drawers). On his dresser or in a jewelry +type box I noticed what looked to be small bullets (.22's maybe). +There were a few different shapes and sizes. Perhaps a dozen. They +were too neat to pass up so I took a couple. I actually gave some of +the bullets to the young girls and dared them to throw the bullets +against the hardwood or tiled floor of the basement. You know, to +see if they would explode. But not before I stood across the room +close to the stairs so I could make a quick exit if required. They +threw the bullets at the floor and nothing happened. And again with +the same result--nothing. Well, I thought, maybe they were duds. So +I took a few before leaving our friends place that day. + +I later regretted the whole incident--what if the bullets had +discharged? Why the hell did I take them? I felt so guilty that I +wanted to take them back but there was no way I could return the +bullets--I lived in Florida and no trips to Saint Louis were being +planned by my parents. So, I disposed of the evidence by burial. I +ended up burying the bullets (perhaps four to six of them) in front +of our garage about a foot below the ground behind a tree. It has +been about twenty years now and I still can't believe what I did. +The two girls who threw the bullets against the floor are in there +twenties now. I have no idea if they remembered that day or if they +told their parents. I wonder if the teenage son ever noticed the +missing bullets. I wonder if the people we sold our house to ever +discovered the bullets and questioned what we might have been up to. +However, maybe it is better that I leave the past alone and +concentrate on the here and now. + + +SKOOL DAZES + +Back in college I did a zine called FATHOMS BELOW. I also created +some ads to help promote my zine. On the back of one of the ads +appeared this next story. As for the zine I only produced five +issues. I recently archived them all to Adobe PDF files and will put +them online when I get the 15megs of spaces the five issues require. + +College years are a time to "party" for some, while it's the usual +for others. Luckily for me I have a few crazy days to look back on-- +the following is one of those days. + +One cool day when my roommate and I were a bit adventurous we decided +to do something unique. At the time we were living in a dorm at the +University of Florida and on our way to completing a third year in +Electrical Engineering. I'm not sure how it happened--maybe one of +my stupid suggestions--but we decided to see (feel) how HOT we could +get the kitchen (10 x 12 ft room). We plugged up the air condition +vent, closed all the doors, and turned the burners and oven all the +way on--of course we were smart enough to leave the oven open. When +we started the temperature was somewhere around 72-76F. Our goal was +to reach 100F and see what is like because it never gets that hot in +Florida. It took 45 minutes to reach 99 degrees and it didn't seem +to want to get any hotter. Unfortunately we didn't have an electric +heater. After an hour we decided to turn the appliances off and go +from a cold room to a hot one and back again. I must admit it was a +neat experience but then again people in northern states experience +this every day in the winter. Fortunately we didn't have to pay the +electric bill. As we say at Fathoms Below--you don't fully +appreciate life until you risk it! + + +THE EIGHT VIRTUES OF THE AVATAR + +It was a little more then ten years ago that I took my first European +vacation. Before the vacation a friend acquainted me with the +popular (at the time) Ultima IV on my Commodore 64. So, not having +much to do that summer I managed to spend much of my time playing +Ultima IV. I played Ultima IV, went to Europe for a few weeks, +wondered about Ultima IV then eventually returned to complete the +Ultima IV game. I didn't have a map but did have limited cheats. +Sometimes it was easy to get caught up in the game and lose sight of +the intricacies of what it is trying to teach you. + +To complete Ultima IV you must become what is known as an Avatar. +The goal of the Avatar is to seek total understanding of the world +around him/her. The eight virtues of the Avatar are: 1) Honesty, +2) Compassion, 3) Valor, 4) Justice, 5) Sacrifice, 6) Honor, +7) Spirituality, and 8) Humility. + +One can only obtain Avatar status when all eight virtues have been +satisfied (i.e. maximized). This is, more or less, accomplished +through your characters interactions, missions, and mediation at the +various shrines. Towards the end of the game your characters are +required to battle a mirror image of themselves. Take away the +medieval facade and this game is played every day by all of us. +Truth, Justice, and the American way right? + +One of our most difficult fights is with ourselves--and so it is in +Ultima IV. We strive to overcome evil. Everyday is a new mission. +Some are mundane, others will require great risk. As we complete our +goals (missions) we are rewarded--maybe our self esteem raises or +maybe we are paid a bonus at work. Achieving "Avatar" status in real +life is no easy task yet it is something all of us should strive for. +And if there is no "Lord British" at the end of our journey at least +we can say we did what was right for ourselves and those around us. + + +It's the only way to be, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0464.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0464.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b8b055b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0464.txt @@ -0,0 +1,135 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Drove to Suicide + ---------------- + +@ In loving memory of John V. May you Rest in Peace. @ + +For a while I have been debating whether or not I should write this file, but +obviously you have now seen my final decision. + +"If you hear anything long enough, you are going to start to believe it." +Which is the same type of logic as "You can get use to anything, given enough +time." + +Having been picked on, ignored and extremely shy because of that John never +made a lot of friends. Once he got to HS that only was amplified. Until he +found some people that he could really hang out with, and they had something +that helped him relax and unwind, and helped him be just him. Drugs, +especially the pot really helped him relax, and then he wasn't so shy and +nervous about things. He could deal with things better. + +People didn't think he'd be able to hear them, or know what they were really +saying. Or they just didn't care. It's no surprise that people can be +cruel, but so cruel that it would drive someone to commit suicide? + +Not just one person can be blamed for the suicide of John. Because, really +as a society, it is somewhat all of our fault. Too many of us, or just people +in general do not think before they speak, before they act, before they tear +someone down and rip them apart. People judge without knowing, people give +up on someone without trying. People make quick rationalizations to excuse +what they have done or said or been ... but that does not change the fact of +how it effects the other person. + +The HS was filled with hockey players, football players and other jocks. +Cheerleaders and people that thought that they were better then others. And, +that they could tell how someone was by just merely seeing them a couple of +times. Never giving a second chance, and never changing their minds. + +"If someone is really going to kill themselves, there is nothing anyone can +do." That is not true, in my opinion. + +What drove John to suicide, was a life that people constantly expected more +then he could give and then were disappointed in him when he could not +deliver. Where people always looked down upon him, because of height, once +he got taller, then his friends or his hobbies, and if not that then, his +views of the world. + +It is said that the truly great minds and artists are never truly appreciated +in their time. I think that can also sometimes be true with truly great +people. Maybe they didn't live a great life, or as great as they could have, +but, the potential was there, and no one ever nurtured it. + +If no one ever would support you, love you, nurture you, in this life, you +would not get very far, and anywhere you -did- manage to get, you would not +be able to stay there for very long, because you wouldn't have the confidence +needed to sustain the blows and pitfalls of life. + +Supposedly one of the best things in life is a smile. Can you imagine your +life with no smile? It would be pretty dark, wouldn't it? Maybe you do not +smile, and you hate smiles and happiness ... and you prefer the darkness +because it is more comfortable. + +There comes a point in time when you should realize that you need to live +your life for yourself, and not for others. But, if you never have the +encouragement to even live how are you going to get that point? + +In a some movie or TV show I have seen in my life, I remember a guy sitting +there and saying how he was made. It was how his parents explained his +conception. "That his parents just loved each other so much, that one night +they loved each other so much more, that you came to live as a testimony of +that love.". It would be nice if everyone felt loved, needed, and got the +affection and nurturing they needed, but too many do not. Though, that is not +what this article is about. + +I am writing this, because I think, we, as individuals or groups can really +make a difference in others lives, that are around us. We, as people have +the power to communicate beyond an animal level, we have the power of under- +standing, and we should use it. Put yourself in the place of another, and +see how much you like it, and if you don't like it, is there something you +can do help make it better for that person? If we only did that for each of +the people that matter anything to us, then this whole world would be much +better and happier place ... because then every person would know that at +least one person, this universe cares about them. Cares whether they live +or die, are doing good or bad, sad or happy. + +There is only so much, we as individuals or groups can do, but shouldn't we +do as much as we can? Instead, of just sitting back and watching others +be hurt, and drove to suicide or ostrasization? Because, that someone could +be us, someday. + +How many times have you wished there would be someone there for you? + +How many times have you wished that you had just one person that cared about +you? + +How many times have you wished for ... ? + +How many times ... ? + +* * * + +John had a good heart, that most everyone overlooked. He had a mind and a +heart, just like everyone else. He could think and had lots of ideas, hopes, +and dreams ... he had things he didn't like, and things he loved. Music he +listened to and music he hated. Food he ate and food he wouldn't even touch. +He was a living being ... that felt the world had turned its back on. + +* * * + +-Kamira +December 27th, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0465.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0465.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..dcc42a9e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0465.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + about work + ---------- + +So I'm a chick. A chick that happens to be a unix system administrator +with about 3 years of experience. During those three years I have +learned more than syslog and perl. I have learned that Women Aren't +Supposed to Know How to Use a Computer. I have worked for two +companies. In both of them, my job description is, in nicer terms, +Grunt. In both teams I have been a part of, I have been the equivalent +of the nice assistant who gets coffee for her boss. While Senior Unix +Rocket Scientists 1 and 2 go off to add new services, change and +design network architectures, and Make the World a Better Place, +I wrestle with backups, adduser, and alias files. + +Why is this, I wonder? I have a few theories. One possible theory is +that because men have penises, they must also have more brain power. +Like the stegosaurus with a smart tail, the penis makes complicated +things like TCP/IP much easier for men to understand. Another theory +is that breasts suck intelligence from women. Women have to support +all of that extra body fat, which takes more energy, which makes time +for comprehension of things like file descriptors simply too +difficult. Makes the brain smaller, you know? My favorite theory, +though, is that many of the men in this industry are simply pigs. +They like having A Chick on the team so that they have someone +they can feel superior to. Even if they are complete nimrods, they +can rest easy in the knowledge that their manager will gladly place +the blame on the dumb gash who doesn't know how to do anything. +Plus, it's someone they can make fun of without repercussion, +because if The Chick complains, she probably will never be able to +work in the industry again. Since I have been a system administrator, +I have had disk drives thrown at me, I have been called an idiot, +I have been patted on the ass, I have been asked about my sex life, +and a host of other things which never seem to happen to Rocket +Scientists 1 and 2. + +So now that we have established that there are a ton of male swine +in the computer industry, let's talk about the women. There seems +to be 2 major types of female computer geeks. There are the +Femme Fatales and the Butch Bitches. The Femme Fatales wear skirts +while they program, smile a lot and ask silly questions, and bat +their eyes when asking for favors. The swine seem to like the Femmes, +mostly because they appeal to their ego. You can see it when they +talk to the Femme - you can tell how difficult it is for them to +control the urge to beat their chests and make mating cries while +helping the Femme get that nasty PCI video card into the right slot. +Sad thing is, she probably knows how to do it, but she is smart +enough to ask for help so that the Rocket Scientist doesn't feel +threatened. Then there are the Butch Bitches. I am one of those. +The Butch Bitches use rough language, always wear jeans, avoid +make-up, and volunteer to carry heavy things so that the Rocket +Scientist understands that she is not a weakling. While the Femme +Fatale appeals to the Rocket Scientist's protector instinct, the +Butch Bitch tries to be one of the guys. That's how disk drives +get thrown at the Butch Bitch - she projects that attitude that +she can take anything and more. For some reason, the Butch Bitch +approach doesn't work as well as the Femme Fatale approach, I think, +mostly because deep down the Rocket Scientist *knows* that the +Butch Bitch does not have a penis. + +So, what to do? I think I will have to go shopping soon. I might +be able to find some skirts I like, maybe one or two pairs of heels, +some doe-eyed make-up effects... It might not be too late to be a +Femme Fatale. + + +Anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0466.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0466.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..030233da --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0466.txt @@ -0,0 +1,139 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Gramps + ------ + +"Beep, beep...[long pause] beep" + +That was what i heard when they connected gramps to a monitor to check his +heart. An uneven rhythm, i was scared. i knew it had to happen someday, but.. +now? why? + +To say the truth, we never thought gramps was going to be one of the last +to go. My grandma left first, and so did my other grandpa. And we never +imagined that. Grandpa had a stroke about 4 or 5 years ago, i cant remember +exactly when. After that one half of his body was paralyzed, he couldn't +move, hardly speak, and we all were crushed. He was just fine the night +before that, just fine. Grandma said that they went to bed, and the next +day when she tried to wake him up he wouldn't wake, and then he rolled him +over and saw this wicked face gramps had. He was in the hospital for some +time, the Doc is saying that they didn't know if he was going to make it or +not, but he did. He went back home, half the man he used to be, paralyzed. +In a wheelchair; babbling, not speaking; undertaking physical therapy, not +waking up everyday with the energy he always had, he was old, but full of +energy. After that incident nothing was the same.. well, how could it be. +Heh. + +Grandma. I loved her. And lemme tell you here that i was the biggest +motherfuckin asshole in the whole fucking world with her. In some way i +think i betrayed her, now ill never know.. She always took care of gramps, +till she began to get ill herself, she began having difficulty breathing. +Emphysema, the doctor said. + +I have one image burned in my brain that will stay forever, that of grandma +one day gramps got sick and we thought that 'the day' had arrived, so to +speak. Of course gramps was just pulling our leg. But anyway, i had to stay +with grandma, and she was all nervous; she always got all nervous when +gramps got sick. She was scared of him dying, i guess. I stayed with her +trying to make her feel better, if possible, and she started to cry on my +shoulder while saying "My husband.. my Augusto". That picture will always +be with me. + +Why i betrayed her? That's kinda easy to answer. I never wanted to see grandma +or gramps after they got sick. I dunno, maybe i didn't want to see gramps cuz +i didn't like how he was, or i was scared. I dunno. I wish i could say that +they lived far from here, but it wasn't that way, either. They lived on an +apartment on the 2nd floor, while i lived on the 5th floor. We had lived +together for more than 15yrs in the same house before we moved, but now i +wouldn't go down 3 floors to see her. Asshole. She knew i didn't like to see +gramps, i hope she understood, even tho i don't quite get it myself.. + +Fast forward, i don't want to get you that bored. Maybe ill delve into that +some other day. + +I guess it was a good thing that grandma left us first. She wouldn't have +made it if gramps had gone first, that would've been too much for her. An +emphysema, however, was not the way for her to leave; i don't think so. +She couldn't breathe. i've read its akin to inhaling deeply, and without +exhaling, try to breathe again. Tried it yet? just try it a couple times. +Now imagine living like that. Or clinging to life like that, i should say. + +Mom woke me up at 600am to tell me grandma had died. I was expecting it in +a way, but i didn't get to see her the day before she passed away. I still +am asking myself why didn't i go see her the night before.. why? i knew she +was gonna go soon.. yet i didn't.. That must've been 3 or so years ago. + +After that, something really weird happened in my family, it was as if +everybody was dying. I don't know how many relatives died after grandma, but +i know it was more than 6, it was weird. Yet gramps was holding his ground. +My other grandpa would go first. He was one healthy man, too. He was working +until he went to the Doc cuz he was coughing a lot. Lung cancer. Advanced +lung cancer. God, one has to wonder how the fuck cancer gets around the human +body that fast. It was as if something was draining all the life from him. +After just a couple weeks he needed oxygen, and when i went to see him he +looked like grandma. Only worse. He went fast, too. Grandpa? he was ok then. + +He'd scare us occasionally, but nothing big. By now he wasn't even +communicating anymore. He didn't recognize people, not his sons, not anyone. +We thought he had alzheimer's disease, but later we figured out that he had +probably had another stroke, since he got into the hospital and got out +worse, that's the only thing we can think of. I can babble some more about +what happened during that time, but i wont. Lets just say that he was doing +ok, he'd scare us and wed take him to the hospital, until that time that i +mentioned above when he checked out worse that he went in. Things got worse +then, mom knew something was wrong, and so did i. Gramps was gonna go soon, +we knew it. I knew it. + +One night, a Sunday, mom came here and told me gramps was sick, that he +couldn't breathe well, and that she was calling the hospital. After she +called she went downstairs to check on him again. I didn't know what to do +then, i doubted for a second, then i went downstairs too. I went in gramps +room, and there he was. I remember standing there, looking at him silently, +not saying a word. I was shocked, i hadn't seen him in months, i didn't know +he was that bad, or that he looked that bad, for that matter. Next thing i +know tears were rolling down my face, i never thought id see my grandpa, +my abuelito, like that. His face, his body.. he was thin, skin and bone. +Nothing but that, his look.. he wasn't looking at anything, his eyes were +wide open, but he wasn't staring at anything at all. Mom told me he hadn't +had closed his eyes in hours. Hours. However nothing had prepared me for +what i heard when he exhaled. After he exhaled there was this gurgling +sound coming out of his lungs, they say they were full of phlegm, hence +the sound. After about half an hour an ambulance came to pick up gramps +and take him to the hospital. + +"Its ok, you're gonna be ok, you can stop fighting now" Were my last words +to him before they took him to the hospital. I wish he could've understood +me, but he was unconscious by then, he probably had been for the last +hours. He never got out. It was a Thursday, they said he died at 730am. +I wish i would've spent more time with my grandparents when they needed +me, both my gramps and my grandma. They were there for me whenever i needed +them, always there for me. But i never was there for them when they needed +some attention, when i was supposed to pay back what they have given me, +and now i will never get to thank them, or to tell them that i love them. +I wont have a chance to fix that. Maybe you will, lucky you. + +I miss my grandparents. + +-sg + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0467.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0467.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8c40b6e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0467.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Torn and Damned + ---------------- + +Am I damned to be known by my handle forever? Too scared to share my real +identity to a couple of my online friends because I am frightened at what +would happen if I ever lost them as friends. Old friends come and go and +their email addresses seem to never stay the same throughout their time... + +Friends that fire suddenly turn into Friendly fire as each one point the +finger at the other trying to discredit each and every one of them because +they don't fit a certain type. What type am I? I am a hacker and this is +my manifesto?? You say those words with pride but, have no idea what those +words mean or how they affect you. You tell me you are a hacker yet you +want me to show you how to logon to your shell account? I'm pointing my +finger at you to discredit you and you point your finger at me because you +think I am too good to show you how to do something when I worked so hard +to learn it on my own. You subscribe to 5,432 mailing lists to ask one +question.. 'How do I hack?' I tell you to find materials in books, online, +etc..etc.. and all you can do is kick and yell because I cant tell you a +specific answer! You say you had a hard life and you turned to your +computer for solitude and pleasure and I tell you that you turn to your +computer because your television no longer keeps you occupied. Factory +kicks out new and improved hackers and throws away old. Is new always +better? What about the old vintaged ones? Why do we join hacking groups +if we don't do anything but have our names up on webpages? What is my +purpose for being here if i'm just taking up space? MOVE OVER i'm coming +in... there goes another hacker out of the scene he becomes allied with +the other side... a hacker catching a hacker? WHO THE HELL IS THIS +GUY? That is the first question you get when you come onto the scene and +it wont be the last time you hear those words! I hate you, you hate me and +the chain goes on and on... Who the fuck are my real friends online... do +I have any friends in real life or do they all exist on my computer screen? + +I live on my computer day in and day out and what do you do? You sit on +the couch for 13 hours watching old re-runs of Beavis and Butthead and have +the nerve to come onto IRC and ask me question and you demand answers! +You fuckin' sit around your cozy Christmas tree on Christmas eve while I +buried my dead father. But hey, was he ever there? I, me, myself.. that's +all you ever think about! Yes, I drink beer to take the pain away.. I often +think of my father and what he has done and what I could have done... I +think about myself and when it will be time for me to be raided and sent +to jail for the things that I have done... all the things that I have done! + +I will probably die at a young age maybe by cancer or by the hands of the +bottle, that liquid substance that allows me to escape my own personal +torment and the grip that my father has on me even as a corpse. I still +have not visited his grave because of the emotions that may be brought +up..... I sit here hacking on my computer night after night as the dark +circles seem to multiply like rings on a tree, but for what? What is it +that I am seeking and why do you follow...? Why does only my handle exist +and not my true identity or is my true identity my handle? Oh father, +can you answer me??? + +-Modify +January 20th, 1998 +mdy@sekurity.org + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0468.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0468.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5fced2d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0468.txt @@ -0,0 +1,113 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Light + --------- + +Waking up, I turn thinking that someone is shining something brighter than +the sun into my eyes. Looking around, I realize it is still nighttime, and +the only ones that are up besides me now, are the animals outside. + +The light is SO bright, what could be causing such a light? Maybe UFOs DO +exist? Pulling my shade, to open my window, I look out, I can tell the +light is shining down, looking up to the sky, I see it. The light, it's +so bright, and it's the moon. + +Only seconds go by, before I realize what all I had done, and that instant +I begin to ask forgiveness to the one that has always been there. The +friend that has always stood by me, when no one else would, and could +help me continue on, even when I did not have the strength or will to +do so. + +"I have taken your name and trashed it. Torn your ideas to shreds, and +stomped on the memory of you. Damning others and damning myself, because +of you. Nights I would stay awake, and wonder why you had left me. Days +I would scream out to you, only to hear silence, or just noises of nature. +I have done you so many wrong doings, especially for a friend that has been +there for me, as many times as you have ... I have forsaken you, more then +once. If I were you, I would not be able to forgive me, so how can I ask +you to?" A single tear falls from my eye, as I look up into the light, +that had awoken me. + +Shaking my head, I continue to talk, even though I know he is not there. "I +have hurt myself, just so I would not have to know the joy and then feel the +pain after losing someone again. I shut you out of my life, so I could feel +okay about doing the things that I was doing. You always were able to get to +me, and make me think, I did not want to think, I just wanted to live, have +fun, enjoy myself!" + +"No, how can I ask you to forgive me, when I cannot even forgive myself, for +all of my wrong doings? It is not right, so I stay away from you. It is +better for me to stay away, then have to face you, with the truths that I do +not even wish to remember. Memories of things that I have done, which I know +you would frown upon, or wonder if you had really taught me anything at all. +So, I did not call, write, or contact you ... how can I ask you to forgive, +when if the roles would have been reversed, I would find it probably too +difficult to forgive?" + +"There is an empty void, within my heart, an ache which has gone uncured, +since I have tried to keep you out of my life. A void that only you have +ever filled, and a void that I now know only you could ever fill." + +"I went back to where I remember first seeing you, but you were not there, +only the sun was shining, and animals about. I called for you, but all I +heard was the noise that was carried on the wind. So, I left." + +Laying back down in my bed, I pull the covers up around me, not wanting to +let him, as if he could, see right through me. But, I knew he only had to +look towards me, to know what was held in my heart. No covers, or hiding +could change that fact. + +"Please forgive me, for having hurt you, but how can I ask you to forgive me +when even I cannot forgive myself?" + +Then he spoke, no words, just all of sudden, He was there, in my room, on my +bed, and wrapping his arms around me. I sobbed, my sides ached so bad, but +all I could do was keep crying. 'How could someone I have done so much to, +still hold me while I am down, to help me stay up?' Finally, after a few +hours, I somehow fell asleep, within his arms. That was the best nights +sleep I ever have had in my entire life. + +When I woke up, I could almost still feel him there, though I knew he was +not. Looking around my room, I saw on my dresser a note, and on the note +said: "Anyone that is truly sorry, is forgiven. I hoped that you would +come back, but I knew I had to give you time. When you did not, and I +knew you were as if trying to hide from me, I asked for some help, and +got the light to wake you ... the woods when you went to find me, were full +of life, yet you would not see it. I have always been with you, you just +had to realize that you had to forgive yourself, and in doing so, I could +forgive you." + +I still have that note. And, after I read it for the first few times, I did +not realize, that on the back of it, was the very symbol of our friendship, +and what held it together ... + +It is from that day forward, that I know as long as I stay true to myself, +and remember who my one true friend is, whenever that last light comes, I +will not be burning, but in The Last Light. + +-Kamira +November 19, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0469.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0469.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e4fa9ff9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0469.txt @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + rose colored glasses + -------------------- + +I want to look at my world with new glasses. For too long I have just +watched the bright spots and realize now that I've missed too much +around me. These notes are attempts to share those new found vistas as +I become aware of them. + + =-= + +Yesterday, as I drove up to the shelter, I saw them, huddled together +in the frigid wind, waiting. Tired, gray men, mostly. Beaten down and +resigned, anticipating the moment when the door would open and for a +few hours, at least, they could retreat from the street. + +I've been coming here for years. So many faces are familiar by now. +And yet each time there are new people too. People with luggage, I call +them, because they have not yet learned to shed their suitcases and +bags. + +Silently the guests queue up for mail or soap or a chance to use the +iron. For some, there is still a desire to look fresh. But for most, +there is the taint of too few showers and unwashed clothes. There is +generally a stench about the shelter - a kind of musky heavy smell that +defies description - a smell that I've never smelled any where else. +After all these years, I seldom seem to notice it any more. + +Religious Mass is held and then the services begin to open around the +big room. Showers start and the nurse begins to see patients. Alcohol +counseling is offered and job referrals. Some people do a few odd jobs +so that they can get a change of clothing. There are always more jobs +available than there are people who are interested in doing them. Mail +is very busy. + +Sometimes I wonder why I come down here every Sunday. I long ago +realized I would not directly change anyone's life here. The early +optimism of "making a difference" was quickly erased. Later, working +with the alcoholics, I've had this realization reinforced. Where it +would have seemed that the people on the street would be ready for a +chance to improve their lives, I have found they are highly resistant +to change. Working in the shelter has come to be much like I imagine +working in a hospice would be. By that I mean that we make the +residents comfortable. We offer many more things to them. But most go +unused. + +Still there have been successes too. People have come and shared parts +of their lives. There have been those moments where that spark of +delight has flashed in eyes across the counter. There have been those +times where I've felt like I did make a difference. + +Noon approaches. Soon the men and the occasional woman will begin to +drift out, heading for the catholic soup kitchen or perhaps to the +Samaritan shelter to wait for a bed. The nurse shuts down her clinic. +The alcohol session has been ignored again. The mail is put up. The +door is closed and locked. And after gathering for a closing prayer, we +go too. + +Part of my dichotomy. From there I go backstage at the Nutcracker to +watch the ballet. Somehow it seemed fitting to have a day grounded in +both sides of the spectrum. Sitting in the darkened wings, watching the +young ballerinas bouncing and jumping to limber up for their moment on +the stage reminded me of football players anxiously waiting for their +moment of glory. I was surprised that the large cast was mostly teenage +girls. But then I realized that most boys are probably not interested +in ballet. It was the second to the last performance and I could feel +the exhaustion in the wings. They are ready for this year to end. + +During intermission we went out into the crowd in their furs and +jewels. It seemed so far far far away from the shelter of the morning. + +I can appreciate both worlds. There have been moments in my life where +I've felt like I have been outside looking in. And other moments where +it seemed nothing could be better. But what I realize is that both of +these are part of all of us. Those faceless homeless lonely men and +those dancing whirling ballerinas and those comfortable contented +matrons are all part of the whole. We, each of us, have our roles to +fill, our parts to play. I know that for me the opportunity I have been +given has made my life richer. Each of these people, whether they will +ever know it or not, bring joy to my life. And it makes me hungry for +more. Thank you for being a part of that life force. Regardless of our +individual and collective outcomes, your life has given a spark to +mine. And it seems to me that that is what all of this is all about. + +Smiles. + +FTF + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0470.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0470.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d1b42c5b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0470.txt @@ -0,0 +1,78 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Content + ------- + +There are some that have been involved with F.U.C.K. since the very first +days, then there are some that have just begun to get involved. And it is +those that have been involved with F.U.C.K. over the years, that have written +past files, regarding the changes that they have seen in F.U.C.K. or maybe +they thought it was themselves ... there's a reason for that. + +Change is a part of life. But, also what shapes F.U.C.K. what the people, us +send in and write about ... if we want something with more content and not +read articles about different things, then we should write more. Instead of +just complaining or giving their piece of mind on the subject and changes, +try to work towards it being the way it's meant to be in your mind. Anyone +that thinks that F.U.C.K. has changed, is right. All you have to do is go +back and re-read the very first file release, which explains WHAT F.U.C.K. IS +to know that it has really changed over the hundreds of files released. Some +of the change noticed is most likely changes within ourselves, and some from +just the rotation of different writers. But, there is another reason, and +that's the lack of feedback on its content. How can someone shape something +or mold something without any feedback, or taking a step back and really +looking at how things have become? If you don't like the changes that have +occurred, then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. + +File subjects you get sick of, then give something that would make the ones +you don't like look less and less favorable - and slowly I am sure you would +see less and less of those types of files. IF you give feedback about it, +and not just complain about it -or- write one file about how things have +changed, and disappear for months on end ... + +We, the writers are the ones that submit to Dis what he can choose to put in +F.U.C.K. and we, the writers are the ones that ask about when the next issue +is going to be out ... and we, the writers, are the ones that have more +ability to get things we may want to read more about in F.U.C.K. + +I've read occasional files from F.U.C.K. a long while before I went to the +web and looked up all the back issues and read them, and it wasn't until I +carefully read through all of the releases and went back and re-re-read the +original explanation of what F.U.C.K. is about and for, did I really realize +that I wanted to be apart of it. Something that sends out things to help +get people to think, and where you can write about what you are thinking +about, dealing with, or what you really think of the world - and find out +that you aren't alone in it. + +A new definition of F.U.C.K. would have to be found within the current state +of how it is ... but also found must be what it wants to be ... what Dis +wants it to be, and then through that, you get what content, you should have +in it. And, through feedback and submissions you'll eventually get what +F.U.C.K. is all about and should be about ... taking time, to let your voice +be heard, in a place where you'll be listened, within a world that usually +only echoes nothingness. + +- Me, Myself, and I. +12/18/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0471.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0471.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e1105755 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0471.txt @@ -0,0 +1,288 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + the turning + ----------- + + I opened the door and stepped outside, the darkness surrounding me like +a widow's veil. I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The absence of light +occurred to me then, and I glared into the sky. The calendar had promised a +full moon, and the balance of white and black was needed on this night. +Anger welled in me, threatening to overtake the calm. A cloud, as if +unnerved by a premonition of something ominous, suddenly released its +captive grip. The moon emerged, its radiance transforming the swirling smoke +into a gyrating, sensuous dance of mourning blue. A smile crept slowly over +my face. + A glance at my watch told me he was late. Again. At least he was +consistent. I paced impatiently, the metal of my spikes against the sidewalk +echoing in the silence. I felt rather than heard the car, and turned to look +as it made its way quietly up the street. The black Firebird came to a halt +beside me, and a bleached blonde head peered out. "You're late, Jake," I +snapped. + "Sorry," came the usual reply. + "You always are, aren't you?" + "Chill, Natty. Don't be so uptight," Jake replied flippantly. + "Don't call me Natty, dammit!" My tone grew tense. + "My apologies, Natasha." He emphasized my name, his voice taking on an +edge of its own. + I sighed. "No, I'm sorry. You know how I get." Jake shrugged and +offered me a cigarette. I declined, and twisted around in my seat. Pale +green eyes stared out of the blackness. + "Evening, Natasha. You look lovely, as always." Dominick's voice had +taken on an elegant bass tone as of late. + "Thank you. Have you gotten last night's files yet?" + "Of course. Nothing pertaining to us, thankfully. There was mention of +a disturbance in the near vicinity, but it was thought to be a domestic +dispute. Nothing to worry about. If you'd like a look, they're still in the +'flex." Dominick soothed me with his tone, as only he could. + I reached under my seat, my fingers seeking the sleek, cool metal. I +pulled out the BitFlex unit and headgear. Slipping the headgear in place +with a familiar ease, I powered up the unit and opened the file. My eyes +rapidly scanned the data. Satisfied that there was no trace of last night's +encounter, I powered down and replaced the unit. + Closing my eyes, I allowed my mind to drift. No words were needed +between the three of us, on nights like this. My thoughts traced backward +through time, pausing occasionally to dwell on the most vivid of memories. I +couldn't remember a time when we weren't together. There had been that time, +of course, but it was of no consequence now. What mattered was that we had +started this as one, and there was no going back. Not that any of us +wanted to. + Dominick had been only thirteen when we met. Jake and I were in our +final year of high school, and Jake's first reaction to the boy had been one +of contempt. He was only a kid, Jake insisted, how skilled could he possibly +be? Eventually, though, Dominick's electronics prowess had won him over. +Everything seemed to mesh then, each individual's expertise complementing +that of the others. Jake danced effortlessly through the telephone networks, +softly coercing the human element when needed. The most obscure of systems +wrapped around me like a satin glove, allowing me to work my way inside +their complex data structures, inviting my seduction. We thought ourselves +an unstoppable force, but it wasn't until the silke that we tasted true +power. Though temporary, the turning gave us the one thing we had lacked. +Control. Our bodies developed a catlike grace, becoming as lithe as our +minds. Our senses heightened beyond anything we had imagined. We had become +the embodiment of perfection. The only difficulty we encountered were the +feedings. In time, though, the feedings became a welcomed need, the same +intense desire an angst-filled soul has for inner peace. + Jake's voice drifted over me, as if from a distance. "Natasha, you +awake?" + I opened my eyes and nodded. + "Almost there." I felt his grin. + The Matrix was frequented by techies, although it attracted the +occasional outsider. They rarely stayed long, though. There was a certain +chill outside the inner circle, and the lack of acknowledgement added to +their sense of discomfort. The three of us were well known at the club, and +highly regarded by those we considered friends. Since the turning, though, +fear had replaced respect in the eyes of some. + We entered through the side door as always, and the rapid, electronic +beat of the music pulsed instantly through my body. The green light of the +hallway cast an eerie incandescence over our leather-clad bodies. As we +stepped down into the main room, my eyes scanned the familiar faces, +searching for one in particular. Not finding their target, my eyes landed +instead on Jake. + "Ready to rage?" + "Am I ever not ready?" Jake winked, and dropped three small black pills +on his tongue. "Come and get it." + I slid a hand behind Jake's head and brought him to me, flicking my +tongue over his. I allowed it to linger teasingly for a moment before I +withdrew. The tablet slid easily down my throat, leaving its sweet trail of +promise behind. Dominick leaned into Jake then, and bit softly into his +lower lip before slipping his tongue inside. He withdrew, leaving a single +pill. In silent agreement we moved toward the wildly flickering lights of +the dance area. The silke began to take its hold as Jake and Dominick +surrounded me. The music became tangible, and I felt it snake erotically +over me, its fingers caressing my skin, until it completely enveloped me. +Dominick's lips found their way to the nape of my neck, and he worked his +body against mine. Jake's hands slid over my thighs, gripping me firmly as +he traced my throat with a hot tongue. The lights, first green, then blue, +ever changing, flashed over us in a frenzied dance. We moved together, as we +did everything, in perfect rhythm. + When the silke-induced thirst became unbearable, I slipped from between +them and made my way to the bathroom. The water from the fountain was ice +cold. I let it run down my skin, cooling my already damp body. I turned to +the mirror then, examining my image. Dark, gracefully slanted eyes stared +back at me, the pupils enlarged to thrice normal size. Sharply pronounced +cheekbones threw shadows over my pale, translucent skin. I smiled at my +reflection, running a soft pink tongue over my elongated canines. I was much +more beautiful now. + It was getting late. Where was Noah? On an ordinary night, he'd have +been here by now, and tonight was far from ordinary. Tonight was special. +Tonight, Noah was to become one of us. It had been five years since +Dominick, Jake, and myself had come together, and in that time, we'd never +considered bringing in another. Until now. Noah was different, though. In +many ways, he was already part of what we were. He had demonstrated his +loyalty to us time after time over the years, and in return, we had given +him our trust. Noah hadn't had an easy life, yet through all he had seen, +all he had known, he somehow maintained his childlike innocence. His dancing +green eyes belied the brilliance that lay beneath. He wrote code with a mad, +driven passion, a passion composed of a love for the code and demons from +his past. After tonight, though, his past would cease to matter. To us, what +mattered was what lay ahead. + My turning had nearly reached its peak, and my heart drummed fiercely +in time to the music. I felt every muscle of my body as I moved, +contracting, expanding, tightening. The leather, taut against my hardened +muscles, provided a comforting second skin. We rarely wore anything else +now. It alone seemed to stay the chill brought by the turning. + The patio was nearly deserted, and a quick glance around told me Noah +wasn't out there. A hand slid stealthily around my waist and I turned, +smiling. The smile turned quickly to a snarl, and I writhed free of Zach's +grip. + "Keep your fucking hands away from me," I hissed. + "Now now, Natasha. That's no way to show your devotion to me." Zach +flashed a sickly grin. It was a twisted slit in an otherwise stonelike face, +a smile that didn't quite reach his cold, pale eyes. An animalistic instinct +took over, and I watched in surreal detachment as my hand shot from my side, +nails raking his cheek. He raised his own hand to his face and it came away +wet. He reacted violently to the sight of his own blood, reaching out to +grasp my throat. + "You stupid little bitch. You're not the untouchable elite you seem to +think you are." His fingers tightened around my neck and I closed my eyes, +needing the moment of pure concentration to adjust my body to the lack of +oxygen and blood. My breathing slowed, as did the pace of my heartbeat. I +opened my eyes and stared into his. + "And you're not the immortal you think you are, Zach. You shall find +that out before the night is over, I'm sure." I squeezed his hand, grinding +his knuckles against one another. He released his grip on my neck, but the +grin never left his face. + "A woman who fights back is sexy. But you know that, don't you?" He +wedged me against the wall, using his body to block my escape, and pressed +his lips over mine. I bit down ever so lightly on his lower lip, and felt my +razorsharp teeth slide easily through his flesh. The blood was sweet in my +mouth. Sweet enough that I craved more. He pulled back, startled, and my +gaze focused on his throat. I leaned toward him, my heart beating rapidly +once again, and ran my tongue over bloodstained lips. Movement registered in +my extended peripheral vision, and I turned my head. Dominick stood there, +Noah and Jake behind him. + "Natasha, no. Not now. There's time for that later. For now, leave it +be." Dominick let a hand fall on Zach's shoulder. "I've told you many times +to stay away from her. You didn't heed my warning. Perhaps you'll remember +that later. In fact, I know you will." + We followed Jake back inside, back to the comfortable darkness of the +club. A collective anxiety hung thick in the air. He led us into our usual +hideaway, a small, dark room just off the back bar, and we sat in a circle +on the floor. I glanced at Jake. He nodded and began speaking. + "Noah, we've known you for a long time. In that time, you've extended +your hand in friendship and shown your loyalty a hundred times over. In +return, we've trusted you. In the case of Natasha, Dominick, and myself, +that is a gift. We trust no one, yet we trusted you. You've never abused +that trust, never once betrayed us, and for that we're grateful. Each of us +also admires and respects your skill. That said, we think you'd add a great +deal to us as a group. We've discussed this at great length. At first, each +of us was hesitant about letting an outsider in. If it was anyone other than +you, the subject would never have come up. I realize that you already knew +most of what I just told you. I'm saying it again because I wanted to +preface what I'm to say next. I wanted you to understand how much thought +we've given this." Jake stopped, and looked into Noah's soul by way of his +eyes. He must have found there what he had been looking for, because he +continued on. + "To be one of us is to be one of us forever. We live as one. Our lives +are a neverending rhythmic dance of good intentions and questionable +outcomes. There are consequences of being what we are, and you will have to +deal with these, as we did. You will experience a heightening of mind and +body, and we feel this heightening is worth the sacrifices that must be +made. Do you want this, Noah? Can you handle this?" The passion he felt for +all that we were, and all that Noah was to become, was clear in Jake's tone. + "I think you already know the answer to your questions, Jake. I think +you can see the answers in my eyes." Noah's voice was nearly a whisper. + Jake held up his hand, rolling a bit of blackness between thumb and +forefinger. "This is what we are, Noah. This is the silke, and this will +bring you into us. I want you to take this from me. Do not be scared. You +are us now, and we love you. From now until eternity, we shall be here with +you. And it is us that will indeed experience eternity." Jake placed the +pill in his mouth and held out his tongue. Noah went to him then, without +hesitation, and slid the silke from Jake's mouth. + I looked at Dominick. "Dance?" + "But of course." Dominick always wanted to dance. I headed toward the +dance floor, the others following in silent agreement. + Between the strobing shock of the lights, I peered into Noah's eyes. +His pupils were huge, and I knew the silke was taking effect. I reached out +to stroke his face, and he grinned. It was odd how the turning never took +anything from what you were. It simply gave. + It was five minutes until closing. Time to leave. When the Matrix +closed, the lights came on, and we did our best to avoid that. Bright +artificial light seemed to have an adverse effect on the silke. + + + The moon shone down through the occasional cloud, illuminating the cool +night. I turned to Dominick. "Are we waiting?" + "We're waiting." + "Excellent. I'm famished." I looked at Noah. "Are you hungry?" + "I'm starving. It's odd, though. I have cravings..." His voice +trailed off. + "Yes, well those cravings will soon be satisfied. In the meantime, why +don't you go get that code you wanted to show me?" + "Sure. Come with me to my car?" I nodded. + Noah extracted a thick black notebook from his car and began paging +through it. We headed back to where Dominick and Jake were waiting as he +began explaining the code. "And see, it builds a series of smaller +datapacks, and attaches each one to one of the original datapacks. They +piggyback, so to speak, and when the original datapacks are through the wall +and being dispersed, the smaller ones disconnect themselves. The tricky part +though, the part that took me so long, is that the piggyback packs have to +skip a step. They obviously can't disperse in the same manner as the +originals, as they have no true destination. Their destination is wherever +their host datapacks take them. As a result, they have no destination code. +Without that code, of course, the datapacks will be bounced around until +they eventually cease to exist. They'll never be properly dispersed. In +order to get around that, I had to code it so that immediately after +detachment, each piggyback datapack tunnels through the desired shelf, which +always remains the same, and directly makes the desired calls. Do you follow +so far?" Noah's voice rose in excitement with each breath. + "Yes, I follow, but I'd probably have a more in depth understanding if +I was reading the code as you explained." + Noah handed the notebook to me, and continued his explanation. +Suddenly,he stopped midsentence. "They've got Zach," he laughed. + I looked up from the code. Dominick held Zach's hair with one hand, and +with the other gripped his shoulder. "I got you something, Natasha." He +pulled back on Zach's hair, exposing his throat. + My heart rate rose in anticipation. I grinned at Zach, whose eyes grew +even wider with fear. "If you're afraid, Zach dear, you should have thought +about that before you took liberties with me." I leaned forward, my lips +lightly grazing Zach's neck. I looked at Jake, who nodded. Closing my eyes, +I let my teeth sink through the skin. The sweet taste of blood flowed +through my mouth, satisfying a need I hadn't even realized was there yet. I +barely heard the screams. + Once sated, I looked up. Noah was staring at me, a horrified look on +his face. I licked the blood from my lips. "Noah, it's okay. We must feed. +It's part of what we are." The look of horror was replaced by one of guilt +as Noah looked longingly at the warm blood flowing from the wound. "Come +Noah. You must feed too." + Noah leaned in slowly, still hesitant. His tongue protruded from his +mouth, and he took a tentative taste of the dark red liquid. Satisfied, he +wrapped his lips around the hole in Zach's throat and drank hungrily. After +only moments he stopped, sinking to the ground. A look of disbelief washed +over his face. I sat down next to him, holding him, whispering to him, +attempting to allieve him of his guilt. I knew what he was feeling. I had +once felt it, too. As I held him, Jake and Dominick took turns feeding. When +they were finished, Dominick let go of the body. It fell to the ground with +a thud, blood spattering over Zach's leather jacket. + Noah was still a bit unsettled, but he'd come to terms with it in time. +We all had. Sacrifices must be made for the enhancement of the deserving. +That was our mantra. I looked at Noah, and my heart went out to him. I +caught his eye and smiled. + "Think of it this way," I said, pointing to Zach's leather clad corpse. +"He wanted it. Did you see how he was dressed?" + + +-krystalia +01/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0472.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0472.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1ad9b4b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0472.txt @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Just Myself + ----------- + + I think I will go back to being anti-social since it hasn't +got me very far. After time I start seeing the true personalities of +people too quickly and a lot of them make me want to throw up. So many +people I have made friends with but decided to stop talking too +because they just want to use me or they are sweet on the outside but +rotten on the inside. I don't understand what directs me to all the +mean people on this earth, all the people with the huge egos and small +conscious'. I rarely share anything about myself anymore because a lot +of people would exploit it for their personal use, I don't know +exactly how but I know it would happen, which makes this writing weird +to me, perhaps after so many years of schooling they finally managed +to pound the habit of sharing into me. + Everybody I see seems to have a little bit of me inside them, +whether it is the way they walk or a personality trait, perhaps I am +just as sick as everybody else but am too ignorant to see it. Maybe I +could solve all this if I could finally find someone who I knew +_really_ cared, the only time I hear the words you are really good at +something is usually from people who don't know anything about it, and +rarely from the people who I respect and idolize which makes me sad, +not being good at anything. Well I guess I should just congratulate +myself for trying to be so great without jumping into the bandwagon +which I try so hard to avoid, probably to prove to myself that I am an +individual and not just part of the crowd. + I hope someone else who feels the same sees this so they know +they aren't alone, and those who feel different will know there are +people like this out there in the world where a simple "hello" means a +lot. + + Orbie - glambert at mindspring dot com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0473.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0473.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..50b12922 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0473.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Price of Progress + ----------------- + +I need to put down some of my random thoughts or my brain will explode. + +Something is happening to me, and all i can feel is pain. I know what it is. +The world is Dying. Life is ending. People are killing us. Its A War. +A Mental and Physical War. People are dying. People are snapping. +Losing control of oneself is as bad as any other fate. + +Just think about it. Our world is too secure, full of people with hollow +promises. People try to prey off each other, trying to use others strengths +as they're own, to try and survive, and succeed. They're not drawing on other +peoples' lives, but on their death. + +Damn this must sound muddled but I have to say it. We are dying. Whenever +we try to exploit someone, feed off them, we are just killing ourselves +more. I can see a future holocaust. Its already begun. It began hundreds +of years ago, the day the first police force had to arm themselves with +weapons. As soon as you forget a face, everyone is an Enemy. We spread our +own hate and self-loathing to others, trying to fill ourselves. But it's +not a natural filling, instead, one that slowly corrodes our souls. + +I don't need someone to lie to me; to say that life is easy, the good guys +always win, there are no casualties and everyone lives happily ever after. +They are poor liars. Life is full of casualties. They eat away at us like +cancer, and then spread. America is trying to dominate the world, just +like we are trying to dominate each other... + +Every 10 million years, all life as we know it is wiped out on the earth. +First whatever killed the dinosaurs. Then Glaciers. Then a period of +volcanic eruptions, and meteors. Just when it comes time for another +natural act of destruction, who comes along but humans. I think humans are +going to be the next purger. The next thing to destroy all life. How long +have we been around, 5, 6 thousand years? That's not a lot of time +considering Dinosaurs lived millions of years. I don't think we're a +permanent life form on this planet. + +They call it progress. Justify destruction as the price we pay for advances. + +It's not true. Nothing is true. + + +I'm Lonely. +- Rabies + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0474.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0474.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..84aa118e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0474.txt @@ -0,0 +1,64 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Just some thoughts early in the morning + --------------------------------------- + +Odd how we decide things. I grew up hating my body. I was never thin +enough or active enough. I hated this or that about my body. It seemed +as if I spent my life in an armed relationship with my body never +trusting that it would be what I wanted. And yet in reality, my body +should be my best friend. + +I realized that all those years of hating how I looked - of always +wanting to change something about my body - of always being disappointed +at how it performed or more often didn't. I spent those decades searching +for that acceptance of my body from others. If you liked me then I would +be ok. And so it is, to my mind, a small wonder that while I think I know +my body well and recognize how it works, I don't trust it. + +There is a base line certainty that my body is against me. Perhaps that +is not uncommon for many of us. I don't know. Perhaps that is how society +has raised us however indirectly that we never really like our bodies. +But where I am now that has to change. My body and I are in the middle +of a new relationship that cannot survive a relationship based on fear. +I need to gather in my acceptance of that body I live in and realize +that these next many months are going to strain that view of me a great +deal. + +There are changes happening already. I've got connections now wired +into my veins that will become hooked to machines. I've no doubt that +the chemicals they dump into me in high levels will do things to my +body I won't like. Nor will my body have much fun either. So learning +to love my body and the changes it is taking now will become essential +to this journey. At a juncture such as this, I can choose to be an +invalid or a survivor. + +I choose not to spend my life looking out and wondering what I missed. I +intend to expect my body to keep up. And to that end, I need to learn +now to become my own best friend. + +Me + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0475.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0475.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f69b9443 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0475.txt @@ -0,0 +1,146 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Why I Stayed + ------------ + +Many times I've been asked by friends (guys and girls) why females +stay with guys that treat them like shit. It wasn't until recently +that I fully understood something - that once again I was staying with a +guy that was treating me like shit, or at least not the way that I should +be treated. + +One of the things I noticed within the many files of F.U.C.K. is that a few +guys have taken the time and voiced their opinion about why they think and +what they think they can do in regards to why girls stay with guys that are +jerks. And, this file is partially dealing with that same issue. However, +from the point of view of the girl that stayed with the guy that treated her +like shit. + +I've been through a lot in my life. I don't want pity or sympathy, but that +is a fact of my life - it's never been that easy for me. However, I am not +complaining, just letting you know more of where I am coming from on all of +this ... + +A little over three years ago, I started going to chat, and I fell in with +a group of people that quickly accepted me into their group of friends and +made me feel very welcome. It was not that long after that a friend of mine +introduced me to a friend of his, that he thought I'd get along with great. +J. ended up coming up and visiting me, but he brought a friend with him. +That friend, had a live-in girlfriend at the time, but that night when we all +met, that didn't really seem to matter that much, because we flirted just +the same. J. and I didn't click at all face to face - for numerous reasons. +However, the friend and I did - wonderfully! + +As time went by, the friend got rid of his live-in girlfriend. They had +grown apart, etc. And, at that time he admitted that he had had feelings +for me since the first time he had ever seen me. That one night so long +ago, he started to like me, and knew for sure he wanted me in his life +forever. + +Years went by and we were best of friends, I was totally open and honest with +him, and shared the most parts of my life with him, more than I had ever done +with anyone else before, including the various guys that I dated throughout +that time. + +It is only now, after finding out that he has lied to me for the last year +or so, about how he felt for me, what he wanted for 'us' and everything else +that I really realize now, that I was nothing more for him then a simple +convince. Someone that he could call up and talk with whenever he wanted, +I'd drop whatever else was going on, and talk with him. If I was tired, it +wouldn't matter I'd still talk. + +When he came and saw me the last time, he treated me like a COMPLETE +princess, bought and paid for everything and we were able to do whatever +I had wanted to do! I was on cloud nine! However, little did I know that +his promise of returning within the next six months would not happen, nor +did I really think much of it when he somehow 'forgot' my 21st birthday, +even though he had remembered every day that we had talked until that day. + +Whenever he wanted things worked out, he would get his way. Now that +I look back on it, it's very sickening. Then a couple of months ago, +things started to change, and I started to call him once in a while, +instead of just waiting for him to answer my pages, which would sometimes +take up to a few days.. because he was "so busy". + +Finally, after numerous talks, something had to change that last week, +I had had it. Having talked with a few friends of mine, and finding out +that he had been telling them the very same thing though the only +difference it was about them, instead of him and I ... and I confronted +him again about something of the sort, which of course he denied, I couldn't +take it anymore. So, last night I called him and said good-bye to him, +one final time. + +He supposedly never wanted to hurt me, he never wanted to make me feel like +a luxury - but maybe that is how he looked at it. Maybe he was trying +to get me mad at him, etc ... that's what he thought might have happened. +But the thing was, that I had told him, and everyone else knows, if you +don't shoot straight with me, you're not going to stay in my life. And, +I had kept him in my life way longer than I should have, that's for sure! + +The times we'd talk and the days that we didn't I'd get more and more +emotional, and things kept seeming more and more wrong. Though, whenever +we talked, I thought things would be fine. I had been through enough +relationships to know that this one was headed for trouble. + +Now, we never committed, but when you talk about yourself and someone in the +sense that he and I talked about 'us' there is a certain level of trust or +commitment made. The kind of commitment you wouldn't refer to two girls +the same way at the same time as. + +Why did I stay with him and put up with everything for so long? Because, I +kept thinking that things could be different ... and that maybe I just needed +to wait things out. + +But, you know what? Nothing was going to change. And, I got sick of waiting +around for 'someday' to finally come. + +I lived three years of my life, waiting for 'someday' to come, only to have +my heart and life totally shattered, I am through waiting like that again, +only to end up broken in the end. So finally I said good-bye and get out of +my life. + +When your gut tells you things aren't right, they aren't right. When you +find yourself thinking one thing while alone, and not being able to stand +your ground when that one is around, things aren't right. When it's +really right you don't lose yourself, instead you share yourself and +the other person shares themselves with you, and together you become two +that are so much more complete and more whole than ever before. + +Why I stayed, I hope to never repeat again. And, I hope if you are staying +because you think things will change or get better, you realize it a lot +sooner than later - and get out. Remember, there is no angel that will +lend her hand down to you and help you get out, you need to do it yourself +and those that truly care will support you. Even if there is no one that +will support you, deep down in your heart you will know you are finally +doing the right thing and not stay. + + +-Kamira +January 24th, 1998 + +Please note: That staying in bad relationships doesn't necessarily mean just +romantic/sexual ones. Friendships and other types of relationships, or ones +that are somewhat borderline (like the one I am talking about above) can be +just as damaging to you and your life, if you don't get out. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0476.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0476.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3008cfa2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0476.txt @@ -0,0 +1,100 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + First Impressions + ----------------- + +"Hi. I'm Shy, how you doin'?" + +or + +"Hi. I'm Shy, nice meeting you" + +That's what we usually say whenever we meet someone. I usually use option #2, +since saying "nice meeting you" is one heck of a fucking lie. As if it was +nice to meet a complete stranger. Well, it could be different if you've +heard of that person before, but still, id rather use #1. Anyway, after +the usual greeting would come a handshake (for men) or a kiss on the cheek +(for women, but i'm not sure if that's so common in the US.. hrm..) + +Oh yea, and while this is happening i'd be sporting a very fashionable +hypocritical grin we all just love to hate. Must be a "Generation fuck you" +thing. + +After those very first words, i bet you'd already have an opinion of me, +in other words, you'd think I'm kinda nice or you think I'm an asshole, its +as easy as that. And i better have some kinda nice clothes on or you'd +think I'm so kind of lowlife or something like that. Prejudices, just gotta +love 'em. + +But you know what? i do the very same thing. Whoever the hell said that +the first 3 or 5 minutes of the first conversation are the most important +was right. Not sure if that's a good thing or not, but at least he/she was +right. + +I have noticed that there's people i like right from the start, and people +that when i first meet them i think they are assholes (let's not forget I'm +coming from the "people are assholes" point of view), and usually 5 minutes +later i confirm the fact that they _are_ complete assholes, but hey, +there's few people that redeem themselves and are actually fun to hang with +even though you thought they were assholes. Only problem is that they are +few and far between. + +Also, there is the "i fuckin hate him/her" people, all of us have met one +of them. Hell, you don't need to meet them, it's one of those things that +whenever you see him you go 'what an asshole' you dont need to know them, +and you've never heard a positive or bad comment of them, and they've never +done anything to you or anyone you know; but there's something inside you +that tells you they are assholes. I dunno how to explain it, but that +happens. I think it's something like mutual stupidity (F.U.C.K. file #217) +it just happens. + +I don't try to get influenced by the looks, either. You know, clothes and +whatever, because I've noticed that there's some sort of underground trend +among assholes to dress nicely. Of course, that doesn't mean that nice people +always wear rags, either. + +I know, i know.. "you shouldn't judge people" and blah, blah. And hey, its +not like i do it all the time, but lets face it, people will label you, and +they are going to judge you by your looks or whatever and think you're a +dork, but they ain't telling you that, they are gonna be your friends. You +just gotta be a hypocrite in the 90's, haven't you figured that out yet? + +By now you must be thinking that i have no friends or some kinda crap +like that; sorry to burst your bubble, but i do have friends which i trust +and i hang out with. Besides that, i usually get along with everybody, +since I'm not much of a troublemaker. And hey, i can be a hypocrite just +like everyone else when is needed. + +And i dunno about you, but just by reading f.u.c.k. files I'm pretty sure +i'd get along with most, if not all, of the other writers/contributors; +then again, that can be the feeling among everyone that has ever written +a file. + +So, after reading this file. Do you like me? + + +-shyguy +2/7/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0477.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0477.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ec37ec47 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0477.txt @@ -0,0 +1,357 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + why are fucked up ? because we are slaves! + ------------------------------------------ + +In 638, Palestine fell to the Arabs. 457 years later, in 1095, the First +Crusade was launched by the Vatican to capture the Holy Land (Palestine)! +They failed, but in 1492, Columbus set sail for India to gain enough wealth +for the capture of Jerusalem. He failed and the Protestant Revolution +occurred. Britain inherited Columbus's objectives (i.e. India, East India +Company, etc). 425 years later, in 1917 during the World War 1, the +Protestant Church of England British Empire colonised Palestine, when +General Allenby declared: `Today the Crusades have ended'. In 1948, +the real power behind the Church and Empire took over Palestine. + +Naval Crusade +In the 15th century, Europeans began making oceanic voyages of discovery. +What is remarkable is that they ever started at all, soon after the Black +Death in which one-third of the population died. Very quickly, these +voyages led to the outright economic and political domination of the whole +world. + +Why were Europeans the only ones to discover and conquer the world, even +though the Church had lied to them, that the earth was flat and if anyone +sailed too far, they would fall into Hell ? They were not only +inward-looking, illiterate and misguided but oppressed by the Church by +being victims themselves to Inquisitions, Witch-hunts and charges of +heresies. How is it possible for a society with such characteristics to +even dream about discovering, AND conquering the World ? + +The fact is, the very institution that misguided its followers, also sent +them on another Crusade - a NAVAL Crusade in the guise of explorers and +traders. + +Just over 500 years have elapsed since the beginning of European encroachment +into the Old (Africa and India) and New World (Americas). The origins of +colonialism, racism, capitalism (stealing and exploitation), globalisation, +slavery (free labour) and 'Business Administration' can be traced back to +1455 when the Pope put out an announcement (`papal bull') authorising +Catholics to "reduce to servitude all infidel people". In 1457, the Council +of Cardinals met in Holland where they sanctioned, as a righteous and +progressive idea, the enslavement of black Africans for the purpose of +their conversion to Christianity and to be exploited in the labour market +as chattel property. This scheme gained the sanctimonious blessing of the +Pope and became a standard policy of the Vatican, and later of Protestant +churches. [3]. + +A bull of Pope Nicholas 5th instructed his followers to `attack, subject, +and reduce to perpetual slavery the Pagans and other enemies of Christ' +[pg. 31, 56]. Two nations actively took up the bidding of the Vatican: + +1. SPAIN. In 1492, Christopher Columbus sailed to the WEST. + +2. PORTUGAL - In 1497, Vasco da Gama sailed to the EAST. + +Many people assume that the primary reason for these events was economics. +HIS story books openly talk of the evils of slavery, racism, economic +exploitation, etc but this has been done to conceal the truth. For example, +only by World War 2, when the British empire was in terminal decline, did +trade between Britain and its colonies reach a peak of 35% of all British +trade. So much for imperialism being the handmaid of mercantilist +capitalism [98]. + +Prior to secularism, religion played a dominant role in all civilisations : +Ancient Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Indians, etc. The +concept of secularism is approximately 200 years old. It is more appropriate +to interpret historical events using the religious reference frame, and not +the secular or economic reference frame. + +SPAIN +Spain had been under Moorish rule since 711. However, since the beginning +of the Crusades, the Moors had been losing territory in quick succession. +Having launched Inquisitions in France and Italy, the Church extended it +to Spain in 1481 to kill or forcibly convert the Moors. On 2nd January, +1492, the last Moorish foothold in Spain, Granada was finally overrun. + +The Spanish monarchy then appointed Columbus `to go by way of the WEST to +INDIA'. He set sail in the name of the Trinity from the harbour of Palos +on 3rd August, 1492. He sailed down the West coast of Africa to some +outlying islands, then straight across the Atlantic Ocean. + +On the very first page of his diary, Columbus states his objectives: 'go +to the lands of India to meet the Great Khan, who like his predecessors, +had many times appealed to Rome to instruct him in Christianity; to combat +the religion of the Moors and all idolatries and heresies; see the towns +and lands and their distribution, and find out in what manner they might be +converted to Christianity'. He also wrote that he intends to find gold, +spices and everything in such quantity, for all the wealth gained in the +enterprise, within three years, should be spent by Spain on the conquest +of Jerusalem [12]. + +Eight months later, Columbus discovered the West Indies (San Salvador) [13]. +Various writers have pointed out, of West African and Moorish traders in the +Americas prior to the Europeans [2 & 3] (very likely as they were not +handicapped by their religion about the world being 'flat'). It is also +probable that the aim of the Spanish Conquistadors was to take over Atlantic +trade routes and anhilate any native American who had been in contact with +non-Europeans. + +By 1500, a number of royal marriages took place linking the Spanish monarchy +and conquests with that of Hapsburg possessions in Austria, Germany and +Holland. Spain became a global empire, stretching from Vienna to Peru! +Charles 5th, who held more than 60 royal titles declared: `in my realm the +sun never sets'. The Church which often arranged these royal marriages +began to think a universal Christian empire had at last been achieved. +[Pg. 30, 1]. + +PORTUGAL +The destruction of Spain was planned, to ensure that Moors from Africa +could not assist their co-religionists in Spain. With two year's +preparation and a papal bull, a Crusade was launched in 1415 against Ceuta, +a Moorish stronghold and trading centre on the African side opposite to +Gibraltar. A Portuguese Armada, well armed and armoured, and supported +by a contingent of English archers overwhelmed Ceuta within a day. [ref] + +The Portuguese set out with the intention of uniting the Christian forces +of Europe with those of Africa, namely Ethiopia in an all out war against +the Moors and make their statelet into a vast African-Indian empire, +stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Indian Ocean and bigger than +the continent of Europe. To achieve this the Church had given the Portuguese +organisational skills and uninhibited unagressivness to go forth to conquer +and dominate. [40]. + +The early Portuguese were not traders or private adventurers, but admirals +with a royal commission to conquer territory and promote the spread of +Christianity. [Pg. 404, 25]. + +In July, 1497, Vasco Da Gama set sail from Lisbon. The Portuguese who sailed +with Da Gama were men of the Catholic renaissance and their successors were +under the influence of the Counter-Reformation. Culture and religion for them +were inextricably mixed [15]. Unlike previous Portuguese expeditions, Da +Gama continued sailing further down the West coast of Africa, round the +southern tip of Africa and north along the East African coast. With the +help of a pilot borrowed from Kenya, Da Gama entered the Indian Ocean +[Pg.81, 24]. Da Gama arrived at Calicut in 1498. From the first, Da Gama +encountered hostility from the Moors, Arabs and Africans. Da Gama told the +first Indians he met on the Malabar coast that he had come to seek +`Christians and spices'. + +A second expedition, under the command of Cabral was despatched in 1500. +The sum of his instructions was to begin with preaching, and, if that +failed, to proceed to the sharp determination of the sword. On reaching +Calicat, Cabral established factories in face of active hostility. + +In 1502 the king of Portugal obtained from Pope Alexander 6th, a bull making +him `lord of navigation, conquest, and trade of Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia and +India'. In that year Da Gama sailed again to the East, where off the coast +of India, he committed the most frightful act of his career. His fleet +overtook a pilgrim ship laden with men, women and children - and, after +seizing the treasure it carried, Da Gama set fire and allowed it to burn +with all its passengers still aboard. On loading his ships with spices +from various ports on the Indian coast, he set sail for home in February +1503, leaving behind him a trail of blood and destruction. In 1524, he was +appointed viceroy to India [pg. 49, 64]. + +=-=-=-=-= + +Having (ab)USED Spain and Portugal to establish strategic bases and forts in +the Americas, Africa, India and South East Asia, skilled and educated +Europeans were then needed to hold and expand the frontiers of newly +acquired territories and `administer' the resources in these lands, on a +scale never seen in history, to ensure the social, economic, political, +technological, military and spiritual domination of the world by those +who ran the Church. + +PROTESTANTISM +To achieve this, the Church created, financed and organised a New Order, in +which a religious reformation, a scientific and economic revolution, +simultaneously took place, namely Protestantism, modern science and +capitalism respectively. + +Protestantism began in 1517 by a German Catholic cleric named Martin Luther. + +Scientifically speaking, the sixteenth century saw the publication of many +pieces of astronomical works by Protestants / Lutherans. The Church +responded with the Opening of the Council of Trent in 1545 and the +Counter-Reformation. In 1582, Pope Gregory 13th replaced the Julian +Calendar with the more accurate Gregorian Calendar. Astronomy was the +Mother of Discoveries for a Religious, Scientific and Technological +Revolution. The invention of the telescope enabled naval crusaders to +determine their position at sea using stars. The theological assumption +that the earth was at the centre of the universe was replaced with +the notion that the Sun was at the centre and central point in planetary +motion The mathematical relationship and cosmic mechanical regularity of +celestial orbits was replicated in the development of machines. No +technological revolution could have ocurred if Europeans continued to +believe the sun rotated around the earth [50]. + +This New Order saw the displacement of Catholic Spain and Portugal by +Protestant Britain, Holland (Erasmus), Germany, etc. For example, the +Dutch empire expanded at Portuguese expense [32]. Britain expanded at +Spanish expense e.g. Francis Drake spent a lifetime destroying and +plundering Spanish ships, wreaking havoc with Spain's overseas empire +destroying Spanish morale and credit. Closer to home he stormed Cadiz in +1587 destroying thousands of tons of shipping and supplies destined for +the Spanish Armada [pg. 16, 103]. + +However, the foreign policy of the `enlightened and progressive' Protestants +was exactly the same as the Catholics, namely the slavery, genocide, theft, +Christianisation of non-white, non-Western, non-Christian people, but at +increased levels of magnitude and efficiency. + +Now, educated Europeans could design and build machines, fight wars using +mechanised armaments, obey complex orders given by factory managers and +military leaders; seize and `cultivate' resources including people +(slavery-application of European serfdom overseas); land and commodities +(colonialism), and distribute them around the world as inputs to the +factories of the Industrial Revolution or as finished products to the +colonies. The globalisation of trade in `stolen goods' was sanitised by +the term, Capitalism. The trade was financed by the largest owners of +capital, namely the Church, and underpinned by Usury, sanitised by the +term, Interest. Catholics were taught that indulging in usury was akin to +sodomy but the Protestant order was taught no such thing, thereby +enabling its quick global implemention, causing so much misery for the +masses today. Little wonder that the capitalistic theories of Adam Smith +are still popular under neo-colonialism. The phenomenal economic success +that followed was attributed to the `Protestant Work Ethic' but really there +was nothing ethical about contravening two of the Ten Commandments: Thou +Shalt not Steal and Thou Shalt not Kill. + +Luther's ideas and books rapidly penetrated English universities, the City of +London and Royalty [9]. When King Henry 8th broke away from the Church +allegedly, he started building Britain's first Navy. The British Empire was +built on Naval power - enabling an island to rule one-quarter of the world. +The resources that Columbus sought to capture Jerusalem was provided by +India. India was the ENGINE of the Empire providing manpower and materials +for the Mother Country. The two million man British Indian Army was the +largest all-volunteer army ever created in the history of mankind. 40% of +the Raj's income went on this army. + +In 1914, under the guise of Nationalism, World War 1 broke out, in which the +British Empire fought Germany, notwithstanding that for over four hundreds +years they had been theological (PROTESTANT), military and political allies +i.e. British tommies were conscripted and brainwashed into fighting Germany +for `king and country', even though since 1714, the monarch was of German +descent, namely the House of Hanover. Similarly, the German monarch was +Queen Victoria's grandson - Kaiser Wilhelm 2nd. Stranger things were to +follow. The Ottomans - an Oriental power joined the European conflict +siding with Germany, thereby giving Britain the justification to attack +Ottoman territory, that just so happened to include Palestine. + +The best resources and personnel were deployed on the Eastern Front (Middle +East) e.g. General Allenby, T.E. Lawrence who had a degree from Oxford in +military history whilst the donkeys were deployed on the Western Front +(Somme, Passendale) e.g. General Haig, etc. Western Europe saw 'trench +warfare' whilst the East saw rapid flanking attacks to capture massive +amounts of Ottoman territory. + +One of the LAST countries colonised by Britain was Palestine in 1917, when +the British Army General entered Jerusalem declaring: `Today the Crusades +have ended' [pg. 7, 48] - the JEWEL in the Crown. The never forgotten +objective of the Church had finally been achieved, though the cost in lives +on the Western Front was horrendous. Soon after, the British Empire started +to 'unravel' when a half-naked Indian (Ghandi whose father a Christian!) +'took on' the Empire and demanded Independence. Palestine had been colonised +allegedly to protect the trade route to India! Britain had been set up! + +1917 also saw the Bolshevik Revolution and the withdrawal of an ally, Russia. +America, having recently left the cowboy age for the age of mass production +conveniently intervened when things were looking bleak for the Allies. When +the War ended, the Great Depression followed which deeply affected Britain, +even though it had acquired more territory than before and had a market share +of one-quarter of humanity. Capitalism does not work! Germany became bankrupt +and demoralised. The Germans being the most intellectual of Europeans (see +remarkable recovery from both world wars) realised how they had been (ab)used +and sought revenge ('The Final Solution'). In 1939, World War 2 broke out, +and again the British Empire fought Germany. Within just 30 years of +capturing Palestine, the Empire that claimed `the sun never set in its +realm' had come to an abrupt end living on rations, open to +counter-colonialism and a colony of its former colony, America. No such +large empire ever sank so quickly [pg. xiv, 46]. + +In the second half of the 20th century, it is America's turn to be ab(USED) +to support the occupation of Palestine and oppress and exploit the rest of +the world via its multi-nationals, and its abuse of the UN, etc. + +SECULARISM +Europeans made striking technological, industrial and military advances to +dominate the World, by studying all known subjects. Having taught these +skills, the last thing the Church wanted was for educated Europeans to study +the most important subject - RELIGION. + +If Europeans should study religion, they would discover the TRUTH, because +they would research its origins, history and development (and the CHURCH). +So the concept of SECULARISM was introduced, i.e. the separation of religion +from all aspects of life. The justification for secularism was that +Christianity had kept mankind 'backwards'. This is a lie because: + +1. The greatest intellectual and technological progress that ever took +place in Europe was during the rise of Protestantism AND at former centres +of Christian theology e.g. Cambridge and Oxford Universities, whose colleges +have religious names: All Souls, Christ Church, Corpus Christi, Jesus, +Magdalen, St. John, Trinity; or named after the clerics who financed their +construction such as Brasenose, Keble, Merton, Pembroke, Selwyn. Emmanuel +College was built in 1584 by the strong Puritan adviser to Queen Elizabeth +1st, Walter Mildmay. [9&18]. + +2. Protestants / Puritans / Lutherans accounted for a disproportionate +number of academics and scientists at Europe's major centres of education +[Pg 46-49, 43]. The scientists who played the most crucial role in aiding +Europe's intellectual advancement were Protestants / Lutherans such as +Copernicus, Tycho Brahe and Johann Kepler; and so were their keenest +supporters (financial backers, printers, publishers, etc) [43 & 50]. + +3. Although millions of witches and heretics were killed, there is no +recorded incident of a scientist ever being martryred, killed or burned at +the stake for pronouncing views that were against Church doctrine +[Pg.39, 50]. Persecution of Luther, Galileo, etc merely ensured widespread +publicity and propogation of new religious and scientific ideas and views +throughout Europe to change the old illiterate and superstitious order. + +4. If Christianity was so regressive, why impose it on the natives ? By +teaching natives superstitious beliefs about Santa, Easter eggs, +cannibalism i.e. bread and wine being the flesh and blood of Christ, +Trinity i.e. Christ being God and son of God simultaneously, etc was a sure +way of making them backwards. Thus the age of secularism was the greatest +age of Christian conversions in Africa, Asia and the Pacific, which were +targeted as fields ripe for harvesting; missionary enthusiasm was an +enormous reinforcement to imperialism [pg. 313-314, 41]. + +In the New Secular Order, two large Gothic Cathedrals were built i.e. the +House of Lords (for the 1000 or so unelected clergy, royalty, peers, etc) +and House of Commons (650 MPs for the commoners) and a replica of St.Peter's +Basilica i.e. 'White House', from where Democracy could be practised i.e. +'freely' and 'democratically-elected' 'secular' Western governments, could +continue to support the occupation of Palestine in the 20th Century i.e. +same old foreign policy and objective of the Vatican from the Dark Ages. + +Whatever the Orders: Catholicism, Renaissance, Protestantism, Colonialism, +Capitalism, Secularism, Democracy, Nationalism, Communism, Cold War, New +World Order, etc it is still the same Old Order to occupy Palestine at all +costs. + + +- Anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0478.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0478.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c8f71aaa --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0478.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Public Transportation Failure + --------------------------------- + +"Take public transportation and save the environment," scream the +tree-hugging hippies. The streets in San Francisco are a fucking nightmare +to drive on, and seven of the ten most-busiest freeways in the world are +in Los Angeles, according to press reports. Neither city has any parking +to speak of. + +I recently got my drivers license back after several years of not having +one (I didn't have a car, so why bother) and bought a new car. I went +through all of this because of public transportation. Now, in San Francisco, +we have BART, an acronym for Bay Area Rapid Transit, which is a sort of +subway train system that runs from 6:00 a.m. until Midnight, and runs the +majority of the greater Bay Area. But, what do you do when you want to go +clubbing, and the trains stop at Midnight? Shit, you usually don't even +get there until Midnight. Then there are the areas BART doesn't serve, +because the tree-hugging hippies complain about the environmental damage +it causes. Aren't these the same idiots that are screaming for us to use +public transportation? Then we had the strike, which shut down BART and +left me stranded fifty miles from the airport just prior to a flight. That +was one very expensive cab ride; if you can get a cab in San Francisco. + +The bus system is a joke, with three different and competing transit +systems which all cross paths, but rarely connect to one another. Unless +you live near one line that also happens to take you directly to your +destination, forget about taking the bus. And I am still trying to figure +out the ferry system. Ten bucks for a ride across the bay? + +Them we have Los Angeles, what locals call the "car city." The city is +spread over such a large area that, basically, if you don't have a car, +you are fucked and are going to spend a lot of boring nights at home with +nothing to do because you can't get anywhere. We have MetroLink here, but +that is a commuter train run by Amtrak that has limited stops in Southern +California. My experience with it has sucked. Nice trains, poor selection +of stops. The closest stop MetroLink stop to my apartment is about 20 +miles away. + +Don't even start with the bus system here in Los Angeles. How much +fucking crack were these city planners smoking? Several hundreds of busses +transverse this city, and you can't go a fucking single place without +making several transfers. When I use to take the buses to college, it +would take almost three hours with four transfers and cost almost eight +dollars for what would have been a thirty minute drive if I had a car. + +So what do we do? We drive a car. And we don't carpool, as evidenced by +the empty carpool lanes on the freeways while all the other lanes are at a +standstill. It's still the fastest, most convenient, and cheapest way to +get from point A to point B, despite everything else the tree-hugging +hippies say. + +Yeah, give me a fucking bus pass, you idiots! + + +se7en +10/21/97 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0479.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0479.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..028e3cf2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0479.txt @@ -0,0 +1,188 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + With Loose Ends - Tied Up + ------------------------- + +After All +~~~~~~~~~ + +Sitting down at my computer, and staring at the DOS prompt, entering into +EDIT, the ideas that have been floating around in my head, begin to pour out +on the screen infront of me. Some of those ideas evolve into articles, +poems, or stories, which I will share, some I will hide, and others that +become published either in F.U.C.K. or various other things. Then there +are some ideas that only go so far, and then I draw a blank ... and hit a +dead end. I always say I am going to go back to them, but then whenever I +do, I have yet to be able to finish, because my train of thought, from that +moment is gone. + +So, instead of just deleting countless ideas, that which could possibly spark +someone else's mind into writing something grander, I have decided to share +them, in hopes that perhaps even if you could not finish what I started, that +maybe it would give you an idea of where to start. Because, sometimes if you +have a place to start, the rest comes naturally. + + +Before I Walk on Fire +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +"Before I Walk on Fire", is a song by Sophie B. Hawkins. + +Listening to this song earlier today, I got to thinking, not only about her +lyrics, but what I would want to say before I would walk on fire. + + +Belief +~~~~~~ + +"What belief are you?" + +"What do you believe in?" + +"Do you pray?" + +"Do you believe in God?" + +These are all questions that I am sure we have asked others, or others have +asked us, at one time or another. However, it in thinking about these +questions I have come to realize that if you DO believe in anything, you DO +pray, you DO believe in God, or whatever you DO believe in, no one should +have to ask you if you do or not, because it should be that evident. + +No matter what your beliefs are, whether or not you practice a religion or +spiritual aspect, you should never have to be asked what it is, because you +should be living proof of it. + +November 13th, 1997 + + +The Last Fire +~~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +Starting with a spark, from the first harsh word that we speak, a fire begins +to burn, within us, and within a place that we will only see once we are +no longer residing on this planet. + +A fire that starts with hatred, and ends with emptiness and bitterness. + + + +Musical Soul +~~~~~~~~~~~~ + +Thoughts fill my mind as if a tidal wave was hitting the shoreline. A zillon +and one odds, possibilites, and opportunities I wrestle with as they go +through my head. Too much to think about coherently, and too little time +not to think at all. An outlet needs to be found, and instead of meditating +or shooting hoops, I put in a cd or a tape, and turn up the volume. Letting +the music carry my thoughts away like the sunshine can dry up the rain, +after a storm. + +Hearing the music, and feeling it enter into my body, my mind, my soul begins +to stir, and new thoughts that don't overwhelm me, and realiziatons that free +me, are the result. + +Spinning around, with my arms up in the air, or my leg and standing still ... +the music begins to soothe my spirit, and my soul is flying. As the music +notes go up into the air, so the very things that had me nearly overwhelmed +completely. + +Supposedly, everyone has an outlet that works best for them. Some never +find theirs, and others have a few, but usually there is one that works +best - above all else. And, sometimes those outlets change. As far as I can +remember though, no matter what my outlet has been, music has been a huge +part of it. So much that at times I shudder to think if I'd ever have to +live without music, I would not be able to survive. + +Music is found everywhere. From the music groups and artists on radios, tv, +and cds/tapes to the music that mother nature made ... all of it has a rythem +and a ryhme. + + +Squeezing Upside Down +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +Working out to my Patti Rothberg CD, I am laying on my back, with my legs up +above my head, as I bring my knees to my forehead, I notice I can stretch +further, as I do so, I find my knees on either side of my head, I squeeze as +a question floats through my mind "Why am I the way I am?". + +Because of certain things that I have been through, they have shaped my life, +my views, my opinions, and my outlook. + +Then and Now +~~~~~~~~~~~~ +When little boys and girls use to play together, all you had to worry about +was the other little boys and girls teasing you about having 'girl germs' or +'boy germs'. As you get older though, and continue to hang out with the +guys or the girls, you have to worry 's/he likes me' and 's/he does not like +me' or things of that nature. + +When you are older, it is not the same as when you are younger. Hanging out +and having fun, racing cars, and shooting hoops become more then just +'friends' hanging out together, people start to think that you must be +'together'. Girls and guys hanging out all the time, must be more then +friends because when you spend that much time together, things must be more +advanced then just paltonic friends. + +When you are older, and you call up a guy friend to hang out, and you do, +and he makes the move, to make it more then friends, things are never quite +the same again. Because, he changed it, and you changed it. So, it gets +more difficult to just call them up, and ask to go out to a movie, or hang +out and race cars, and shoot some hoops. + +Society makes it so, if you spend a few nights a week with a certain person +you must be more then friends ... when you really may just be friends. But, +no one would look at it that way, except maybe the two of you. + +Last night, I would have called a couple of my guy friends, to see if we +could hang out together. It was night, when I just wanted to get out of +the house, and have some fun. Picking up the phone, and beginning to dial +their number, I dropped the phone remembering one of them hitting on me a +couple of weeks ago at one of my parties. Setting the phone down, I walk +over and crank up the radio, not liking any of the songs, I put in my Nine +Inch Nails, Pretty Hate Machine CD, and crank the stereo as loud as it can +go, until the music literally vibrates through my body. + +Who has made things the way things are now, different from back then? Is it +something we do, to ourselves, as we become more aware of horomones and human +instincts? Or is it something, the elders of this society somehow sneak into +our subconcioucness while we sleep and grow up? Why does it have to stay +that way? And, why are we just accepting this is the way things are now +and that is how things were back then? + +Then and now. Why? + +~~~ +Perhaps this has meant nothing to you, except unfinished or incomplete +beginnings, or maybe it helped you think of something - which if it did, then +I have done what I have wanted to do, and I hope you now do what you need to +do. + +Finishing the year, with loose ends - tied up. + +-Kamira +December 26th, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0480.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0480.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..783f73c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0480.txt @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Murderous Rage! + --------------- + +I'm sure most of you have been in a murdeous rage before. Well I'm in +one right fucking now. You feel like you wanna kill everybody, and +blow up the entire world, but since were such good law abiding citizens +we don't do things like that, oh yeah well FUCK THAT! I just wanna say +a hearty FUCK YOU to the people that piss me off something fierce. + +FUCK YOU: To my boss for firing me, you dumb ass menopausaul BITCH! Just +because you don't understand how a fucking computer works beyond that +goddamned Wordperfect doesn't mean you have to fire me because you don't +understand my work...FUCK YOU + +FUCK YOU: To my dad for being a psychopathic chemically unbalanced religious +zealot and deciding to divorce my mom after 30 years of marriage...FUCK YOU + +FUCK YOU: To my brother for taking my money, buying some weed and not +sharing, you greedy bastard, thinking you can hold on to it and dole it out +to me whenever you feel like it (WHEN I PAID FOR IT) because you "took all +the risks"...FUCK YOU + +FUCK YOU: to my sister for being a goddamned wigger bitch and smoking my +last cigarette, what's wrong with white guys for Christ's sake...FUCK YOU + +FUCK YOU: To my best friend for getting his girlfriend pregnant...HEY +ASSHOLE! you ever heard of a rubber, and then all of a sudden becoming a +born again fundamentalist Christian to get out of trouble, and telling me +to fuck off because I'm a Catholic and it don't coincide with your newfound +beliefs WELL....FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!!!! + +FUCK YOU: To my other sister for being a goddamned teeny bopper Beverly Hills +90210 watching bitch, and treating me like shit, because I'm not like your +stupid stuck up, cordory grunge wearing, Spice Girl listening bitch friends... +FUCK YOU. + +FUCK YOU: To my Ex-Girlfriend for telling everybody the next day I'm a lousy +fuck. Well hey Bitch you didn't complain the night before so go fuck yourself +you fucking whore!!!....FUCK YOU. + +FUCK YOU: To my other friend for telling me to stop being a computer nerd +and get out and join reality. Yeah well fuck you and your reality. Your idea +of reality is going around and vandalising shit and stealing your mom's +scotch and drinking it and throwing up. You stupid bastard!!!...FUCK YOU + +FUCK YOU: To the manager at Best Buy for not hiring me because my California +High School Proficiency Exam isn't as good as a high school diploma. Yeah +Well fuck you too, I know more about computers than you could ever learn +from your shitty Computer Science courses at UC San Bernardino. Perhaps +if you knew how to fucking read you dumb bastard you would know that I got +out of high school two years early, so I wouldn't have to put up with the +bullshit, and that I was scholastically ahead of the goddamned Seniors...So +FUCK YOU + + +WOW! I feel mucho better. + + The Jackal + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0481.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0481.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e36b0702 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0481.txt @@ -0,0 +1,100 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Back to the Basics + ------------------ + (written for the 5th anniversary) + + First off, fuck you. Since I know I mean that for more people than I +don't, why not say it. For those who have been reading the 'zine for a +while and not giving me feedback, fuck you. Gradual changes suck for +those closely involved because we don't see the end results for what +they are. Did you know I almost killed the 'zine? Probably not. Instead, +it will go on with help from one or two editors. For the authors that +means faster response time probably. It also means more strict guidelines +for what is accepted. Seems a lot of files recently lack that little fire +in them. That extra bit of angst to lend to your point. + What happened to it? Fuck if I care, back to the basics. We aren't +going to pull a corporate clusterfuck and analyze this to death, nor look +to change structure, or any of that crap. Old school business: stick to +what works. So here we are. And just to avoid an argument about who is +to blame, it's all my fault. No other. I let this degrade into half hearted +rants with no fire in them. Why? Because life has become quite serene for +me. The other day some really fucked up shit happened to me. I can't +begin to explain, but suffice it to say, I'm pissed. + You hold a concept, idea, philosophy or whatever else close to you. +You believe in it without hesitation and without question, knowing it is +the "right thing". One day it all comes crashing down around you though. +Slaps you once and says "sorry, life isn't that fair." Fucks with you, then +leaves again, letting you become serene again. Just what people like me +need. As for what sparked this, don't ask. I will write about it somewhere +down the road probably. + Cause and effect can be so silly. How does a single minute possess the +ability to fuck with 20 years of your life? Incredible that it can. More +incredible is that there are more than three people still left in this +world because of it. The one thing that makes that possible is morals and +ethics, which lead to laws that set up that cause/effect relationship. Worse, +those laws are not fair by any means. Why does it always happen that if I +sneeze on the wrong side of the road I will get caught, ticketed, and fined, +while deranged crackwhores lead 2 year slander campaigns against me, a club +bouncer puts me in a choke hold for asking him to move his truck, and inept +hacker wannabes borrow a login from their friend and try to hack my server +for a week, but go unpunished? Why doesn't the law ever work FOR me since +I pay for it and the accompanying enforcement? + I miss the old days of... everything. Sometimes. At one point I thought +"I need no friends. Solitude is the answer." Then it was "I miss my +friends." Now, I think it is "I want a new set of 'old' friends." Maybe I +just need to get laid. Fuck if I know anymore. Days pass where I can't put +my feelings into words at all. I sit there pondering my mood, not even +diving into WHY I might be in that mood. My list of projects grows immense +as I wallow in this slump. No desire or driving force to be creative or +productive most of the time. + I ponder occasional trivial points like if I am 'alone' or 'lonely'. +Does it really matter? There is an obvious gap in my life. Does this qualify +as overanalyzing the problem? I seek escape in movies, music, and dancing. +I really do try to be social and talk to people. In the spare time I find +myself writing or wanting to at least. Like always, I ponder if writing is +worth it sometimes. It is rare that I go back and read things of my own. +Feedback (or lack thereof) is rare suggesting my message isn't going +anywhere. + Back to the basics. Know one thing, everyone has a fight. A cause. An +agenda. Some are open about it, others aren't. That said... + + =-= + + One reason the 'zine isn't dying is because Capone is going to take over +some of the editing duties. Continue to send any submissions to +jericho@dimensional.com and one of us will get to it. Be warned though, +we are going back to the basics. Higher quality, more focus.. the rants +of old. We'll continue to take fiction and other material, just make sure +the point is there. I will continue doing the Poetry Venture as well. If +you don't know what that is, it is an all poetry mag' I am editing now. + + mail jericho@dimensional.com + +To subscribe to FUCK: "subscribe fuck" + +To subscribe to FUCK Poetry Venture: "subscribe poetry" + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0482.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0482.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c9d72d4f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0482.txt @@ -0,0 +1,157 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Drive + ----- + +The roller coaster ride has begun. A moderate series of "S" shaped +curves leap into view as my headlights cut a path through the darkness. +Downshift, engine drag, and then acceleration out of the curve. I don't +think about what I'm doing. It happens automatically. I smile wryly. +This machine is an extension of myself in many ways. Reaction is so +engrained into my senses that my mind is free to drift. And drift it +does. Free. Unencumbered. Some times, more awareness is required, but +I am often just a passenger on these journeys. I do much of my best +thinking while I'm driving. + +I love to drive. I always have, since the day I first learned. There +is a freedom there that you get few other places. And I prefer to drive +at night. The road stands out more in rural areas at night, and it is +mine, and mine alone. Daytime has its beauty, but Mistress Celeste. . . +well, she has an altogether different type of beauty, and she ensnared +my heart long ago. Cloaked in darkness, I accelerate a bit. + +This is a leisurely pace actually, though rapid for some's tastes. I +swing through some gentler turns, not pressing. This is play, after +all, and so much fun. I glance around on occasion at the passing +scenery. . . hills, trees, and fields, a tunnel of foliage, and a +stream, caressed by the moon. Rises in the road, a turn, and there is a +new view, quite bright actually under a near full moon, with occasional +cloud cover. The clouds slip by gracefully, first obscuring, then +revealing the soft countenance of her radiance. Sounds merge with sight +and feeling, and the song accentuates the moment. The left corner of my +mouth rises into that grin again, which broadens on occasion. So +beautiful. Headlights occasionally recall me to the road, I focus and +slow down slightly, and then drift again. + +Tonight is special. Tonight we play the Game, Tascha and I. Tascha. . +. She has been more faithful to me than almost any woman I've ever +known. She has waited for me patiently when I have had to leave. She +is grace personified, and tonight she wants to play. It has been +building for some time, after all. + +Tascha is a thoroughbred. She is sleek, black, graceful, and sexy. I +slip inside her, and she envelopes me in comfort and desire. And she +has an appetite for the road. . . She can both excite and thrill me, and +sometimes frighten me with her power, grace, and agility. She has been +ridden hard and put up wet more than once, but with attention, care, and +patience, she has not wanted, nor have there been any subtle complaints. +She knows no fear, and she has saved my life more than once. + +The Game we play is quite simple, really. It's called "Stay In Your +Lane." The rules are only that you stay in your lane, and drive as fast +as you possibly can. It must be played on curvy roads, of course, and +roads that you know well. If you cross the center line, you lose. Game +over. If you lose control, you lose. It's all about control and +discipline, in the end, and knowing your limits. . . And pushing them. +You must, however, choose your battles wisely. Wet conditions or fog +add too many unknowns. + +I near my destination, the road to Reliance, and begin decelerating. +And now, it's time to pick the wine. Tonight, we have a most eloquent +selection of Zombie. I cue the song, and my hand taps the gear shift +expectantly, waiting. . . + +The beginning I particularly love, very curvy, but banked well, and very +tight. The lolligagging pace I had set before begins to dissolve. I +have been waiting, after all. I start out slowly, building in speed and +aggression with the music. Reaction takes over at some point, and I +proceed. + +"How fast can you go?" +"Heh. You don't want to know. . ." +"Yes, I do. . . You're talking pretty big there. How fast can you go?" +"Faster than this. I'm still well in control." +"Better. . . Then why don't you?" + +I jam the accelerator, and we leap forward violently. A slight shiver. +Adrenaline surge. I don't know how fast I go. I can't look at the +speedometer. I go by instinct. . . touch, acceleration, the feel of +the curve, the grip of the road. I pound on the wheel lightly at times +in beat with the music, a wry grin that suddenly becomes a snarl, and +then back again. The hand switches down to the gear shift for a quick +change, and back to the wheel. Accelerator and brake in rapid +succession, and deft clutching keep the ride moving forward quickly, +almost recklessly to the unobserved, slinging through curves and over +rises. Lateral forces shift continually as the curves demand precise +steering. I glance in the rearview mirror, as if anyone would be behind +me. Heh. Thank the gods for rearview mirrors. Hindsight is 20/20. . . + +"When will you fuck up?" +". . . Not tonight." + +The grin comes again, and the music assaults my ears. On occasion I +echo through clenched teeth "Yeah. . . Yeah. . ." + +"What do you want?" +. . . +"What do you want?" +"You know. . ." +"Of course, I know. Again. What do you want?" +. . . +"You can't have it, you know. You may as well get used to it, and quit +cryin'. No want ever goes fulfilled. When you realize nothing is +lacking, the whole world belongs to you. Do you remember that, +perchance?" +"Fuck you. . ." +"Fuck me? Listen, you slimy little sack of shit. Face the fucking +facts, and deal with it. You asinine idiot. God, you *are* a worthless +motherfucker, aren't you?" +"Fuck off. . ." +"Don't pull that bullshit with me, you fuckin' ingrate. God, you suck." +"Pssshyf. Go to hell. . ." +"Oh, I'm going, all right. We both know that. But it's a long descent. +. . Have you built your Ship of Death? Oh, have you? Oh, build your +Ship of Death, for you will need it." + +She comes to me then, her arms encircle my neck, and her hands rest +gently on my chest. She whispers from behind my ear, "Come to me." A +gentle kiss on my neck. "Come to me." Another soft kiss, and again, +"Please, come to me." Her lips caress my ear, and she tugs at the lobe +with her teeth ever so deliciously. A slight increase in pressure sends +a chill down my spine. "Come to me now. . ." My breath comes ragged as +my chest expands deeply, again and again. So easy indeed. Take my hand +from the wheel and touch her cheek. Emotion and desire and despair fill +me to overflowing. A snarling breath as the music builds to a +crescendo, and with it, the crux. Sound echoes furiously in my head. +"I want more life, fucker, I ain't done. . ." + +Wide eyed, I zip through the last curves into the straight away, punch +it madly, and then take my foot off the accelerator. I drift to what +now seems a crawl, drained, spent, the adrenaline fading, leaving me in a +drunken weakness. It would not be tonight. The Game is over. + + +Screamin' Lord Byron + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0483.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0483.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..125ead17 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0483.txt @@ -0,0 +1,116 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + 1-900-SUICIDE + ------------- + +I am dead. I am breathing, but I feel no life. I sit and ask +myself all the questions I can never truthfully answer. "Why +can't I just be happy?" "Why do people treat me so fucked +up?" "Why do I feel like dieing?"... + +Truth is, I don't feel like dieing. I feel like +living...happily. In peace. But since I can't, I want to end +it. I will end it. I must. + +I looked at the razor blade sitting on top of my stereo. I +stared at it as if I was obsessively in love with it and what +it is capable of. I started crying, I threw the phone that +was in my hand. It hit the wall so hard, one off the pieces +flew back and hit my eye. That pissed me the fuck off. I +looked at the blade again, and decided to do it. Cut. + +I grabbed the blade, and wiped it off...I looked at my wrist +and scratched my wrist as hard as possible. It turned red. +Bright red. I started to cut, I slowly cut about an inch +long....no where near the vein. Then I realized I didn't want +to die. I wanted a scar, a physical scar, to show for my +emotional ones. I decided to cut again, this time I was +closer to my vein, I looked at the blood come out. I felt +good. I felt like I was invincible. The phone rang. My ex, +telling me how I felt again. + +Why do people automatically assume just because THEY are ok, +that I must be too. He keeps telling me I am ok, that I don't +want to die. That I won't. That he will stop me. It made me +wanna do it more. I hung up...blade still in hand, and cut my +other wrist again, right on my vein. I just watched the blood +ooze out, it seemed so...so peaceful. I felt relieved. I +licked my wrist, and tasted my blood. It was sweet. Sweetest +thing I ever tasted. Kinda sick, huh? No. It was beautiful. +That I felt so dead, yet so alive. I felt so much pain, yet +so much warmth. + +I was listening to the SneakerPimps. Her voice hypnotized +me. I felt like I wanted to be the beat, her voice caressing +me. I decided that since I couldn't do that, I didn't want to +do anything else. I went to my dresser, still bleeding, and +reached for my trusty bottle of prozac. I took out 7 pills. +All that was left. I took them all. I went to the bathroom, +and took 4 or 5 codeine, I can't really remember, since I +felt completely numb and dizzy. + +Next thing I remember doing is laying down on my cold floor. +Completely intoxicated by the music. + +I woke up the next morning, feeling very very sick. I threw +up about 5 times. I went back to my room, and looked at the +floor. I saw blood all over, and a piece of paper right by +it. I picked it up, and unfolded it. It said... + "You did the right thing bitch, and if you wake up to see +this, you failed once again. Next try! Sincerely, Your +Mother!" + +WHAT THE FUCK!!! I am truly disturbed now. She has done it. +She's lucky she's not here right now. (Keep in mind, this just +happened) How could she say something so cruel to me? I know I +get on her nerves, and sometimes she even feels like killing +me,but damnnn!!! + +That's ok though. Because regardless of how bad it hurt to +read that, I know she doesn't mean it. She is saying this +because she knows I will live. She knows I have to. She's +just bringing to my attention what a dumbass I make of myself +when I do dumb shit like that. And it IS true. + +Point of this all; so many people inn my life have downed me +for being "suicidal". They tell me I'm crazy, I'm +exaggerating, blah blah blah. The thing is, most people who +TALK about killing themselves, are the ones who are too +fucking scared to actually go thru with it. They just want +attention. They might feel like dieing, and in all actuality +wish they were dead, but they won't do it. + +The ones who don't talk about, well they just don't. And +sooner or later, that anger will eat them up, and they will +go thru with it. + +But however, I have talked about it many times, telling +people I was going to do it, and I really wanted to. I really +tried. It just failed. And the more people tell me how I +feel, or how things really are, makes me want to prove to +them even more so, just how BAD it is. SO be careful.... + +-Sadia +-GyrL WundeR + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0484.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0484.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7b8c849e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0484.txt @@ -0,0 +1,109 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Another Massacre Would Be a Nice Change + --------------------------------------- + +Anyone who's read my previous postings knows I don't enjoy holidays. +Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a wet blanket for celebrations or +occasions in general...Naw, screw that. I'm more than a wet blanket. I'm +a massive body of water with some string and shards of cloth floating in it. + +Holidays and occasions in general are depleting and gratuitous, and the +bulk of them are whipped up with more marketing intent and less meaning +than if the Messiah's return was a Pay-Per-View event. What's worse, the +vast majority of you monkey-breeders have the audacity to make me feel as +if I'm a jaded gloom-monger for having the self-dignity to stand up and +urinate verbally on what you've been conned into dishing out cash for as an +annual event. + +Phew...with THAT off my chest... + +I've come out against birthdays, and the subsequent greeting-card industry +that has most of you grazing on meager scraps of holidays like "Boss's Day" +and fit to be sheared. For all of my bluster about Catholic-abandoned and +profiteer-adopted holidays like Xmas and Easter, at least their premise was +built on a two-century old, widely-accepted scrap of Euro-promoted +folklore. Besides, since I'll still be seeing Xmas lights in my +neighborhood until April (and turned ON, no less, you mind-wiped, +brainwashed, Patty Herst-esque drones), I'll only swallow my tongue in +ostentatious-induced disgust. + +No, in truth, there is nothing more reprehensible than the mass-appeal of +the Madison Ave holidays. How can you distinguish them from normal, event +or commemorative-related holidays? How about this as acid kool-aid test: +If you get your mail, and the banks are open, IT'S NOT A @(*#! HOLIDAY! To +put it even plainer than that: NO CAR DEALERSHIP "EXTRAVAGANZA" = NO +HOLIDAY. + +There is one that stands out in my mind when I started this, and one more +profit-motivated than post-Civil War carpetbagger with a quota: +Valentine's Day. + +This card-and-candy concoction is why I haven't a doubt in my mind that if +Orson Wells were still alive, he could get you people to form militias +against an invading horde of Leprechauns. I know it's based on a saint and +some-event-or-another, but you know for a fact nobody's celebrating this to +pay homage to his long-dead ass when about half the Hallmark cards and +jewelry store promotions have dropped the "Saint" without most of you even +noticing it. Even the drunkest Irishman pays enough respect to another +meaningless holiday to never wish you a "Happy Patrick's Day". + +Additionally, aside from obvious marketing-mongering involved, it's how +engrained this holiday has become in society's expectations. I mean, if +you're single, you are left to feel like the loneliest soul in the world +for an entire day - and probably wouldn't even feel comfortable +masturbating within that 24hr period guiltlessly unless you bought yourself +a card first. Even then, if someone does happen to get you a card because +you have NO one, then you are miraculously transformed from "loneliest" to +"most pitiful" in your self-evaluation of how you fit in with pop culture. +For those folks, I think they should feel obliged as part of a social +damage-control to put anti-depressants into those candy hearts that pop up +every year like Australian rabbits, with messages like "TAKE THE GUN OUT OF +YOUR MOUTH". + +In some ways, it probably easier to endure this indignity alone rather than +as part of a couple. At least when you're single, you can fill a mug of +tears among fellow commiserators and make the best of hanging out, +dateless. If you're IN a relationship, watch out... + +Being forced to romance on demand is second in performance anxiety to +having to fill the cup at a physical exam. Just TRY and let this one slip +by in most relationships, and you might as well try to sneak into the Oval +Office wearing a turban with an AK-47 stuffed up your butt. What's worse is +that this V-day they dropped the statistic into circulation that men spend +over $100 on this holiday as opposed to women's $50. Well thank you very +fragin' much, 6 o'clock news...now if I can't at least be statistically +comparable, I might as well throw in the towel as far as sexual intimacy +goes rather than waiting to get turned down. + + +Face it folks, you've been had. I'm sure a number of you would rear the +ugly head of "so what if it's not real holiday? I think it's a nice +sentiment..." Really? Then I wish people would set up a holiday for +whoever the Patron Saint of the Mute and Tongueless is, and spend a day +expressing nothing at all. + + +capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0485.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0485.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5235bd2e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0485.txt @@ -0,0 +1,224 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + In Case You Blinked... + ---------------------- + +Last night I walked out of my computer room and noticed three police +cars sitting outside in the road. All three cars managed to drive up +in front of my building, no lights, no sirens, and all the officers +were out of sight before I even knew what was happening. Twenty minutes +later the three officers walked from around the building, got in their +cars and drove off. To this day I still have no clue what they were +doing. + + =-= + +Are you tuned in to what's going on around you? Do you know what +happened in your neighborhood last night? Probably not.. which leads +me to believe you don't really have a clue about state/nation/world +events. How many sources of news do you go to in the course of a day? + +Lets look at how much really happens around our blind lives. These are +the headlines for "crimes and catastrophes" from a SINGLE source +of news on the Internet. Imagine if I were to watch TV or read the +newspaper.. or mix in other headlines I got during these two weeks. + +Wednesday, October 08, 1997 Wednesday, October 22, 1997 + +Imagine... this in the span of two weeks. Odds are you heard about +5% of this material, IF that. Think about what else is happening +in your world... + + +Wednesday, October 08, 1997 + + *** Six charged in Mississippi high school shooting + *** At least two dead in light plane collision + *** Ex-POW says he killed terrorized family + *** Israel remands U.S. teen murder suspect + *** Georgian pleads guilty in fatal U.S. car crash + *** Jury slaps Chrysler with $262.5 million in damages + +Thursday, October 09, 1997 + + *** Two killed as car hits pedestrians in Chicago + *** Killer who castrated victim executed in Texas + *** 'Road rage' bicyclist shoots driver dead + *** Train hits stalled truck, 12 injured + *** 11-year-old boy leads police in 110 mph chase + +Friday, October 10, 1997 + + *** Two arrested for smuggling ancient Peruvian gold piece + *** Jury awards $1 million in Eddie Bauer case + *** No survivors expected in Colo. plane wreck + *** Ex-FBI official imprisoned in Ruby Ridge case + *** Shakeup in team probing JonBenet murder + *** Starr report sheds new light on Foster depression + *** Big Tobacco settles landmark secondhand smoke case + *** U.S. letter campaign urges no asylum for Sayegh + *** Seven nabbed in Miami in $100 million fake bond scam + *** Newborn tossed over fence, found alive + *** British nanny accused of murder cries in court + *** Testimony ends in N.Y. civil suit filed vs. Mike Tyson + +Monday, October 13, 1997 + + *** Single-engine-plane crash in New Jersey kills four + *** Colorado prepares for first execution in 30 years + *** Two boys drown in Texas floods + *** Suspect held in Indiana football game shootings + *** Prison guard suspected of being 'bomb' bandit + *** Puerto Rican jail riot ends after negotiations + *** Clinton exam refutes sex-case claim - report + *** Big Tobacco denies seeking settlement in Texas + *** Flight attendants case to spur more tobacco settlements + *** More jurors join pool in Oklahoma bombing trial + *** Judge refuses to delay nuclear-powered launch + *** Atlanta standoff ends after fatal police shooting + *** Fire in Gary, Ind. called suspicious + *** Freighter grounded on Miami Beach + *** More U.S. defendants take stand in own defense + +Tuesday, October 14, 1997 + + *** Jones' mother gives deposition in Clinton sex case + *** Colorado executes first prisoner in 30 years + *** Alaska police seek missing Norwegian hiker + *** Suspect's apartment combed for Olympic bomb clues + *** Fugitive U.S. judge arrested in Mexico + +Wednesday, October 15, 1997 + + *** California wind-driven wildfire spreads + *** Dow Chemical named in nationwide implant suit + *** Flight attendant intervenes in secondhand smoke suit + *** Lawyer criticizes prosecutors in Cosby case + *** Officials sift through fragments from Denver plane + *** Car thief caused accident from blocks away + *** Swiss jumbo dived to avoid plane - newspaper report + *** Patients' revenge: fake dentist lands in jail + *** CIA shooting suspect to mount insanity defense + *** Green awarded $45,000 for Tyson lawsuit + *** Baby's mother weeps at British nanny trial + *** Air traffic controllers felled, N.Y. airports snarled + *** N.Y. head of NAACP pleads guilty on larceny charge + *** Dive equipment firm recalls 1,200 computers + *** Motion seen little peril to Miami tobacco settlement + +Thursday, October 16, 1997 + + *** On-site investigation of John Denver crash ends + *** Child kidnapped, assaulted at Florida crack den + *** Judge orders release of record number of tobacco papers + *** World Trade Center blast defendant says he was duped + *** Man sentenced for killing wife over Internet fling + *** Parents neglected Russian girls, judge rules + *** FBI says 8 arrested in military weapons case + *** N.C. driving teacher quits amid 'road rage' flap + *** Calif. police contacted by Boulder on Ramsey case + *** Seventh tropical storm of season forms in Atlantic + *** UAE plane makes emergency landing in New York + *** Accused N.Y. officer requests trial venue change + *** Mother says unaware of baby's wrist fracture + *** U.S. jet fighter crashes in Ohio field near roads + *** Colombian says cartel bought visas from U.S. Embassy + *** U.S. woman pilot wins sex harassment suit + +Friday, October 17, 1997 + + *** Baby's father cries as he recalls holding dying son + *** Texas' tobacco lawsuit postponed as judge falls ill + *** U.S. Treasury building cleared, package probed + *** Four U.S. teens die in game prank + *** Miami baseball fan killed in sign stunt + *** Israeli court orders U.S. teen held 10 more days + *** U.S. may bar Russian carrier's landing rights + *** Girl who never went to school starts classes + *** Yale says confident will win dorm flap lawsuit + *** Reynolds witness says smoking dangers clear for a century + *** U.S. baby's fatal injuries said weeks old + *** Suspicious package at U.S. Treasury held computer parts + +Monday, October 20, 1997 + + *** Norwegian hiker emerges from Alaska wilderness + *** Six killed in Texas car crash + *** L.A. cop commits suicide after hit-and-run + *** Man and cocaine found floating off Florida + *** Police wait chance to nab woman in standoff + *** Judge dismisses Pa. class-action tobacco suit + *** Israel says teenage suspect can be extradited + *** Libya asking Pan Am 103 families to settle + *** Sheinbein considered Maryland fugitive - attorney + *** Limo driver in Red Wings crash pleads guilty + *** Youth wounded in Civil War battle re-enactment + *** Medical expert in nanny trial says injuries old + *** N.Y. state car rental companies accused of age bias + *** High Court denies abortion appeal + *** Supreme Court rejects Texas sentencing appeal + *** New York sets up hotline for inmate information + *** No verdict yet in major Colombian drugs case + *** 'Internet Romeo' sentenced to five years in prison + +Tuesday, October 21, 1997 + + *** Catholic Church calls for end to Texas executions + *** Florida Supreme Court clears use of electric chair + *** Guilty plea entered in $10 million stolen art case + *** Haitian accuses New York police of pistol whipping him + *** Saudi bombing suspect to face U.S. immigration case + *** U.S court date pending in unusual kidney theft case + *** Homicide investigated on Tennessee campus + *** Azerbaijan lawyer to fight art theft charges + *** British nanny said not responsible for baby's death + *** Jury told to try again in big Colombia drug case + *** Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble settle lawsuit + *** E.coli ruled out after 100 Kansas kids fall ill + *** Train kills two children; police detain mother + *** American dies following St. Lucia boat tragedy + +Wednesday, October 22, 1997 + + *** Missouri ignores pleas, executes convicted hit man + *** Third defense witness says nanny didn't kill baby + *** Mother who burned daughter sent to prison in New York + *** Two N.Y. mob defendants guilty in carting case + *** U.S. charges former Calif. bank workers with embezzlement + *** Judge raps Miami tourist gang for courtroom riot + *** Man kills girl at school, then shoots self + *** Chair leg, bullet fly in Fla. 'road rage' case + *** Firefigher dies after blaze sets off rifle + *** Bizarre ritual, gunshots at Miami funeral home + *** Compaq testimony says Microsoft threatened it + *** Tycoon's family feud goes to trial; empire at stake + *** British au pair's mother says daughter cared + + +Imagine what else happened that didn't make news. Important people +dying, natural disasters in countries that don't share their news, +or such violent crimes that they don't make the news. Every day +more stuff happens, and we slip right by. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0486.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0486.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2dcd80f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0486.txt @@ -0,0 +1,103 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Movies: My High School Yearbook + ------------------------------- + + I didn't finish high school. While my contemporaries drove + around in their parents' cars, smoking weed and waxing + mailboxes with baseball bats, I was heading up the hill at + an ungodly hour to make it to my pre-calc class in my navy + Honda. Sometimes I'd go to Denny's with them, but mostly + I hung out by myself and wondered how to fit my square self + into a round society. At the time I did not mourn the loss of the + catastrophic shopping trip with my mom to buy a prom dress. + Nor did I feel left out when my friends donned their blue + caps and gowns and switched their tassels from one side of + their drug-smogged heads to the other. Whoopie, I thought, + with even less enthusiasm than is apparent here. I didn't + even care that much when I realized I would never be invited + to a high school reunion to relive the anorexic years and + be surrounded by the so-called "popular girls", who would + likely be dejected housewives skulking around the + auditorium, bellies heavy with pregnancy #2. + + I am in another square phase, so I spend a lot of time with + media. Computers, TV, video games, books, but mostly movies. + I have been reliving my high school years vicariously + through film. I figure, since i don't have any memories of + my own, why not bask in the ideals of screenwriters? + So I watched Dazed and Confused, Heathers, Wild Things, + some nameless Gen X flick about confused little boys unsure + of What To Be When They Grew Up, some other retro chick + flick featuring Rosie O'Donnell and Demi Moore called + Now & Again, and a few late night USA offerings about + The Ubiquitous Troubled Teen. + + So what did I learn? Well, Dazed and Confused made me + somewhat nostalgic for the time period right around the year + of my birth. I got over that pretty quickly when I remembered + a guy in high school named Tom who was so perpetually + high that he misspelled his first name when he signed my + 9th grade yearbook. Heathers is always a nice thing to + eyeball, but my experience of it has become somewhat + jaded since I discovered that Mr. Slater was jailed for + beating his girlfriend while under the influence of cocaine. + The nameless Gen X flick about the boys did nothing but + reinforce my memories of the little dorks with dicks I + went to school with. The girls were curling their hair + and doing their best Madonna imitations, making eyes + at the boys, who were running around with paper airplanes + and kicking each other. Worst of all, none of them could + get through a sentence without squeaking and popping a + zit without the aid of a mirror. Now & Again was cutesy + coming of age, so I pretended that I never saw it. + The late night USA offerings were usually right on. + Most of them even had vampires or some other creature of + the night to fuck with. That sounds about how I would + like to remember high school. + + But Wild Things has to take the cake. Sex, scandal, hot + chicks like Neve Campbell floating around wearing henna + and black nail polish, crotch shots of police officers + and high school teens alike. That at least would have + been fun. It had drugs and booze, too. Best yet, the + heroine had an IQ of 200, so not only was she cute, but + she was smart, too. You gotta admire a screenwriter with + the guts to make a movie like Wild Things. Made me want + to go back to high school with bigger guts than I had + then. The downside? Even the music made me horny, so I + was in a funk for the rest of the day. I must have been + wishing I was still in high school, where all the guys + who have earned the right to be called a Guy are hot, + and the only thing I had to do all day was figure out + how I could buy smokes and booze without getting + ID'd. + + Pretty far from pink prom dresses and blue caps and gowns, + but hey, we all design our own realities. + + + demonika + demonika@dimensional.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0487.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0487.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bf19d641 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0487.txt @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The New Year + ------------ + +The pharse a "New Year" implies a fresh start, or at least that is what I +always think of. Maybe it's because of the song that is always sung "May all +be forgot...", you know the song. + +A new start would be nice, wouldn't it? I think back and would I do things +differently if I would have known what I know now! You know what? I wouldn't +re-live any of it for anything in the universe. Because, everything I have +been through the good, the bad, the ugly, has all helped me who I am today +and even though I sometimes get down on myself, I'm thankful that I am who +I am, and I wouldn't want to have to repeat anything. It was bad enough to +go through the first time. + +I use to think that the New Year somehow magically wiped out any problems +people had with each other, and that things would automatically turn all good. +Wouldn't that be nice? Eh.. + +Events that change lives, can really change how we think, feel, and do. The +New Year is a great time to start some of sort of change. For the last two +years I have made a New Years Resolution and I've kept to it. I don't do +it because I need to, but because I want to be a better person, a better me. +Sometimes, it's about how much I am going to help others or what I am going +to try to accomplish by that time next year, yet other times, it is something +simple that elvoes solely around me being happy. But, that's what a New +Year should bring, right? Happiness to you ... + +Once you figure out what makes you happy you should never let it go. Tuck it +inside your heart, and never let go of it. Always be able to reach inside, +and be happy. Never let the world tear you down, and remember that thing +that makes you happy. What makes you smile, when things are down and all you +want to do is frown. + +"Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone.". + +Happiness isn't always laughing or smiling, sometimes it is more of a content- +ment, with yourself, life, or something else. A peace, inside of you. And, +other times it is something you found really fun, and cheered you up. + +There are always going to be things that will bring you down, but if you never +have anything that brings you up, how are you ever going to be happy? + +When you are happy, you should try and not let anything ruin that, but there +will always be some point in time when that happiness wears off. And, when +that happens, you need to be able to hold on. + +It's not only what makes you happy, but what you can do to help yourself be +happy. + +What better time to do that, then the New Year? + +This New Year, I hope that each of you can find the happiness or contentment +that you seek or long for, and the hope and love that you so desire. Just +remember, 'Everything you need in life to make yourself happy is within you.' +That was on a bookmark I got from my mother one time, and I laughed when I +saw it. I thought, 'yeah, right.', now through the passage of time, I've +discovered it -is- true. + +Here's to a fresh start, a new year, and to the years before - we've made +it this far, we can make it the rest. + + +-Kamira +December 28th, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0488.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0488.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..039aa3a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0488.txt @@ -0,0 +1,87 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Skitzo? + ------- + +I am Sadia now. Beautiful lil dark mysterious love chyld. Trapped in +fantasy and not caring about reality. I create reality. People call me +complex, and those who know me best, say they can never tell what I am +thinking, and that I always look puzzled. I am. Each day a new piece is +added, and I'm not sure where the fuck to put it anymore. Trying to figure +out who I am and why. Battling with my own mind, it tells me things that I +don't want to believe. + +I won't. I am Gyrl Wunder now. Questioning every answer, truth, lie, look, +phrase, molecule, and drop of water - everything. I can answer all the +questions, I just don't know if it is best. Sometimes I convince myself of +something, and it isn't real at all. Sometimes I get so high, that the wind +slaps me, and I fall. + +I don't know who I am now. I'm just...me. I'm here, breathing, quite +heavily. I have many personalities, all of which are beautiful. If people +could just look beyond what I'm doing or saying, and find out WHY I am +doing it, they would see the light - the beauty that is behind all this +negativity. It's there. I see it each time I look in the mirror, every time +I speak, every time I think. It lives in me, on me, and with me. + +I don't want anyone to know me. They would run away if they did. People are +scared of what I am capable of. I am scared. I let people know what I want +them to know, and thy might go on for years thinking they know me, +well...but they don't know a thing. They never see that which is so +important. I've never met anyone, well, one person...that was worthy of +getting me open like that. + +My mind is not a window. You can't look in whenever you want. It is not +clear, and to you, it's quite foggy actually. You can't shut me when it +begins to rain and you feel pain. You can't hit me, I won't shatter. You +may take a peek inside, and stare for hours, but you will only catch a +glimpse, a brief glare, I'm barely even there. All you see is a reflection +of an image I portray. My shadow. The denseness. + +Sometimes I go back and read the things I have written. Most of the time I +wonder who the fuck was in my body or mind when I wrote it. It's mind +boggling. To know that I wrote one thing, 4 days ago, yet when I read it 4 +days later, it isn't me at all. Well, it was 4 days ago, and it will be +again one day. My moods swing back and forth fiercely. Don't get to close, +or you'll get slapped by one of them in your face. Please, just stay in +your place. + +All of us are a bit skitzo, and we all have the right to be who we want and +do what we want. Examine yourself, and see if you really know who you are. +You don't. If you do, and you honestly think you do, you're dense. You have +tried to complete a cycle which cannot be completed. 360 is not a truth in +life. Nothing about yourself is complete, unless you kill it. You grow and +build each day, unconsciously. You can only control that which you create +for your own self. Everything else is left in the hands of gravity. Gravity +gets up, it gets down. Gravity is all around. It put these words together. +It makes you stay grounded. You ARE gravity, and sadly enough, you can't +control it all. You never will. You never have. + +I'm building, and I can't stop...won't stop...I don't stop. + + +-Sadia + +-Gyrl Wunder + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0489.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0489.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8795c453 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0489.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Beyond Your Limits + ------------------ + +Everyone has their limits. I'm not talking about your stress limit - that +point where your patience gives in and you lose control of your temper. I'm +talking about moral limits...that line that you draw and tell yourself that +you'll never cross beyond. + +There's a reason why you don't want to cross beyond that line. What you +might find there...more specifically, what you might find in yourself +there...can scare the shit out of you. I crossed that line recently and it +wasn't a pleasant experience. + +Ok...this text is going to be difficult to write, so bear with me. I have +to refrain from giving too much detail so as to spare the other person in +this story extreme embarrasment. I suppose I could get around that by +submitting this anonymously, but that's not something I'm really +comfortable with. I have nothing against anyone else who has chosen to go +this way, but for me, it's not something I do. I don't know why, it's +probably just my ego wanting credit. + +Anyway, I hope this file will be able to serve its purpose and not waste +space on your hard drive. + +Alright, let's backtrack a bit so I can get this story started. Awhile +back, I fell in love with a girl who already had a boyfriend. She had been +with this guy for almost a year, so I didn't think I had much chance. But I +gave it a try and she fell for me, or so she said. We had a pretty heavy +affair, which her boyfriend never learned of. It lasted about 3 months. + +During this time, she kept promising me that she would leave her boyfriend. +She actually did break up with him two or three times, but never for longer +than a couple of hours. + +Well, anyone with half a brain could see that she was playing me, but +apparently love had numbed 3/4ths of my brain. I ignored the obvious signs +and tried to blame it on her age. (I'm not mentioning any ages, but she was +far below legal.) + +I gave up a lot for this girl. I lost one of my best friends because I +defended her against him. I began to exclude all my other friends. I spent +all my money on her and I almost lost my life after a fight with her when I +OD'd. + +And then it happened. She got tired of me and dropped me like a bad habit. +That was that. I'd given up everything and had nothing left. What really +pissed me off was that she didn't think she'd done anything wrong. In fact, +she couldn't understand why I was mad at her. + +For almost two months, I sat around in a stunned daze, unable to even think +clearly. My spirit had been so crushed by her that I barely had enough will +left to breathe. + +Slowly but surely I began to slip back into the mode my life was in before +I got mixed up with her. I started contacting my old friends and generally +living. And I finally came to realize how badly I'd been fucked over. I +finally came out of my haze and made the decision to make her suffer as +much as I did. + +Ok, this is where I have to stop with the details. It would help the story +immensely if I included them, but I explained before why I can't. If it +sucks as a result, I apologize. Alright, back to the story. + +Like I said, I wanted her to suffer. First of all, I found some items from +when we were together and used them to blackmail her. Originally, I was +just torturing her, playing little mind games with her, but that soon grew +tiresome, so I decided to push the game to a new level. + + +One night, while we were talking, I decided to see how important it was to +her that the blackmail not get out. I kept pushing her until I got her to +do some things that we used to do when we were together. Needless to say, +she didn't want to do them anymore, but I left her no choice. (Let me take +a quick moment to state that though it sounds like it, what I'm describing +is not rape.) + +I kept forcing her to do the things while asking her if she remembered how +she used to like them. I got her thinking about all the good times we used +to have...and then I dropped the bomb. + +"Imagine that you had all those great things." I told her. "Imagine that +everything was so perfect in your life. Now imagine that suddenly it was +all gone. Imagine that for no reason someone took it all away. You know how +you feel right now? That's how you made me feel." She was upset before, but +when I said that, she burst into tears, bawling loudly. When, through her +tears, she apologized, I was finally able to believe her for the first time. + +I was satisfied that I had finally gotten through to her, but I'm not so +sure it was worth all the pain. As I lay there listening to her cry for +over 30 minutes, I began to shake as I realized exactly what I'd just put +her through. Believe me, it was not a pleasurable experience for either of +us and I hope I never ever go through something like that ever again. The +story has a happy ending. We're friends now, but I'm not sure if either of +us will ever be the same. + + +-InVerse inverse@atheist.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0490.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0490.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c0e458aa --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0490.txt @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Your Rights! + ------------ + +This T-file is more or less and explanation of your rights and how the are +unlawfully being infringed upon by certain elements of your government +which supposedly works for you, THE PEOPLE! + +I am currently watching a funding proposal for Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco +&Firearms (BATF) on C-SPAN. WHAT THE FUCK! Here I am listening to their +propaganda bullshit and after all their fuckups they have the balls to ask +me for more money to continue their unconstitutional actions. The BATF +acquired a Fiscal Year budget of 12.5 BILLION dollars last year. In their +proposal they indicate that with more funding they will be able to help rid +our streets of violent criminal offenders and the guns they use. They talk +about how with increased funding, they would be able to keep track of all +guns in the United States by creating a database in which manufacturer's +and wholesaler's will submit(voluntarily of course) serial numbers for the +guns they produce. Not to mention increased funding for their ballistics +laboratory, in which they expressed there usefulness by telling us about +there role in determining who was responsible for the massacres in Bosnia, +through their ballistics laboratories. They also want additional funding +for another database in regards to arson and explosives and BLAH BLAH BLAH. + +I don't know about you but I really don't think this agency should get +additional funding. Quite the contrary I believe this agency should be +abolished. The BATF's main charter is to infringe upon your constitutional +rights as a citizen of the United States. I read an earlier FUCK file about +the BATF and the author made it quite clear what this rogue agency is all +about. Basically it is the Gestapo arm of the government. The BATF's main +business is to harass citizens. especially those who have Federal Firearms +Licenses, and law abiding citizens who own guns. + +BATF tactics include busting down people's doors down in the early hours of +the morning without announcing themselves and this type of behavior more +often that not gets people killed. I mean shit usually the cops have the +goddamn common courtesy to at least knock on your door, announce their +presence, and inform you that they have a search warrant. Not the fucking +BATF, No Sir, they enter your house in all black riot/swat gear with no +identifiable marks whatsoever with automatic weapons (WHICH EVEN +CITIZENSAREN'T ALLOWED TO HAVE). All they want to do is infringe upon your +rights, more specifically your Second Amendment rights, which clearly +states"...THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE TO KEEP AND BEAR ARMS SHALL NOT BE +INFRINGED," end of quote, CLEAR FUCKING ENGLISH. A couple of examples come +to mind...Waco, Ruby Ridge these images come to my mind. They bust your +door, beat you up, harass and intimidate you, because your beliefs are in +conflict with the Politically Correct Government Machine. Most of the time +these raids are the result of ANONYMOUS TIPS that often turn out to be +false. Another motherfuckin'' infringement on out constitutional rights. In +the sixth amendment it says "...AND TO BE INFORMED OF THE NATURE AND CAUSE +OF THEACCUSATION; TO BE CONFRONTED WITH THE WITNESSES AGAINST HIM..." +another clear violation of your rights!!! + + +These infringements are compounded upon by an obscure law that most people +don't know about. It is known as the ASSET FORFEITURE LAW, which is a +favorite among law enforcement personnel. The asset Forfeiture Law states +that anybody who uses their property to facilitate a crime can and will be +seized by law enforcement. For example if you use your phone in your house +to initiate a drug deal your house and everything you own can be SEIZED by +he government. Now is it just me or does this seem to be the same kind of +fucking bullshit we escaped from 220 years ago. I think so. As a matter of +fact the way Asset Forfeiture Law works, YOU DO NOT EVENHAVE TO BE CHARGED +WITH A CRIME for the government to seize your property. Your property is +usually sold and the proceeds liquidated to finance further injustices by +this rogue agency and their fucked up laws. However these motherfuckers +can't seem to read, because in the fifth amendment is clearly states +"...NOR SHALL PRIVATE PROPERTY BE TAKEN FOR PUBLIC USE WITHOUT +JUSTCOMPENSATION." this type of action is in clear violation of the +Constitution, AND THEIR GETTING AWAY WITH IT, and why? Because people are +willing to sacrifice freedom for security. + +Personally, I feel more secure with a.12 gauge shotgun and 9mm Beretta than +having law enforcement personnel attempt to protect me. Look at it this +way, what do police officers do? They respond to criminal activities, they +don't PREVENT, they RESPOND. Now how the fuck do cops protect people by +arriving at the scene of a crime, AFTER THE FACT? Citizens should be +responsible for their own security, rather than having BIG BROTHER do it +for them. What does that entail? It means more freedom for law abiding +citizens. It means more permits for concealable weapons, no more of this +pissant bullshit Brady Law ban of assault weapon shit, for law abiding +citizens. Your rights are being stripped away piece by piece by a +socialistic government that claims "TO KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU" + + + The Jackal + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0491.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0491.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..53e6ab14 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0491.txt @@ -0,0 +1,105 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Velvet Without + -------------- + +Going into my room, I close the door, and walk over to my bed, laying down, I +grab the bear that I had gotten for a Christmas present the day before, and +close my eyes, as I curl up on the bed. + +Wearing all black velvet, I do not even feel like I am me. Jewlery that I +had bought or was given to me, shiny and bright. A necklace, a ring. Simple +but just right. + +Hugging on to the bear, I fall into a sleep. + +Sometimes I wish I could just stay there. Not having to face the ones within +the house, nor the outside world. Do not answer the phone, just turn the +ringer off. No communication with anyone, outside of my own little world. +Would I at least stay happy that way? Safe? + +Could I really live that way? I really wonder. + +For once, I am laying on my bed, and in my room with -no- music! Something +that probably happens once every so many blue moons. + +Totally relaxed and calm, just waiting for me to decide to look into my own +world. + +Having written the letters I've been meaning to write, and having heard from +some that I had only hoped to, I was comforted by the fact that there was +someone that cared. + +Little did I know, that I was only fooling myself. + +The mind is a powerful thing to waste, I have always heard. And since it is +so powerful, it can often play tricks on you, or is it my heart that has +played this hand? + +Hearing the voices outside of my door, I do not even make an attempt to move. +Let them think I am only sleeping and not hearing a word, no one ended up +coming in, to find out either way. + +Curling up a bit more, because the heat is not on, and even though it is only +dark and gloomy, brown and gray outside, with no snow in sight - it is still +very cold. + +More thoughts flutter through my mind, as I recall the words from the vine. I +should have known better, and not trusted my heart, for he only came in to go +on without. + +I know what I need to do, and what I should do, but neither is something I +want to do. It would be best for me, sometimes I think if I would just +simply disappear. Then I would not need to deal with it ... and maybe he'd +realize how much he really -does- care. Again, I am only fooling myself. + +Drifting in and out of a dream, that I will never remember, I wonder if I will +live the rest of my life this way ... and I wish that I could only remain as +simple as I wanted. + +Hours later someone comes in, waking me up after several attempts. I did not +want to wake, nor did I want to do any thing they asked. But, I did as they +asked, and smiled while doing it. I know I should be thankful, but at times +I really wish I could always remain laying there, knowing I am pretty, and +not have to worry about a thing. + +Even though, I was laying there though, I was not fully me. Me wearing all +black velvet with jewlery that shines? That is not me, is it? Sometimes, I +have heard of people comparing themselves to a mix of colors, and I need to +wonder if people ever compare themselves to materials ... cloths. And, I +wonder what I would consider myself to be, shaking my head what a silly +thought. Even if everyone did, I would not. + +Always striving to be me, and living towards my hearts guidance, I really +lay back and wonder now, if it has all been worth it. None of the scales of +reality need to weigh in my world, but the world itself, is not of my own +making. So, I dare to get up and rise out of this bed, to begin a new day +with no velvet or jewlery. + + +-Kamira +December 27th, 1997 +kami@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0492.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0492.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3e67ca13 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0492.txt @@ -0,0 +1,138 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Big Blue Circle + ----------------- + +Get away from me.. +Get away from me.. +This isn't going to be easy.. +Well I don't need you.. +Believe me.. +Yea you got a piece of me +But it's just a little piece of me.. +But I don't need anyone.. +These days I feel like I'm fading away + +Have you seen me lately + +Have you seen me lately + +I remember me +And all the little things +That make up a memory + +(fragments of a song by Adam Duritz) + +These are the visions of Tony + +So, it's been awhile. I'm in my room now. The clock reads 1:05 PM, and the +sun is hanging around underneath some clouds outside. Things have changed +for me a great deal in the past few months. I'm not really sure in what +aspects even, funny how that works. + +I think maybe I've become smarter. Maybe I've matured. Mostly I'm just sick +of this stupid emotional bullshit that people try to throw around on me. +That's probably closer to the truth then anything else I'm going to say here. + +There's this girl named Katie. She thinks she's my best friend. Sorry, +doesn't look like reality, sister. She tried to pressure me into telling +her the horrible emotionally depraving and destroying things that happened +to me in the past year. But then again, who cares? They tell me they care. +I tell them to fuck off basically. + +It's taken me awhile to decide. I've read numerous self help books. I can +tell you how to solve almost any damn emotional or psychological problem +for yourself. But all of it is a bunch of shit. It's a bunch of quick-fix +"until I fuck up and get myself hurt again" lies. + +So, basically what it comes down to is lack of caring. I'm pretty much 100% +apathetic towards humanity as a whole. Sure, I still love my family and I +enjoy hanging out with my friends. But I don't get really emotionally upset +over very much anymore. People yell at me, and I feign attention to their +miniscule problems, but more and more I want to blast them into a private +hell for their ignorant troubles. + +But then I get to thinking about karma. And I think about how I treat +people. And then I figure out why I'm in such a fucked up situation. I +tried to be kind and happy for so long, but people will trample all over +you for that. Damn, I almost caught myself saying something I didn't want +to say there. + +Why have I become the person I am today? Well, that's a damn good question. +Glad you didn't ask. I'm not going to tell you is the most likely of all +options. But I'll do a nice outline. I got fucked over by somebody in a +time where I needed that person and any kind of emotional support most. +Basically, that totally slammed a brick into my head and told me, "Hey, +Tony.. dude, wake up." + +And that's exactly what I did. I woke up. And these are the visions of +Tony. Twisted and distorted reality, nicely shaped to the environment and +world I have created for myself. Defined by my actions, misunderstood by +all - or at least that's the way I want it. + +People approach me for help. People approach each other for help. Ever +wonder why? I finally came around to wondering that, and I figured out it's +because they are a bunch of idiots. They can't help themselves. There +really isn't that much point to living, but it's fun sometimes. I mean, +basically when it comes down to it: You look at all your relationships, and +it's all based on those damn primal instincts. Feed me, give me sex, make +sure that the weather doesn't fuck me around too poorly. + + +What does all this mean to me? I'm not really sure. Maybe as a whole my +brain has degenerated to an animal-like, Darwin-like survival of the +fittest mentality. But I doubt that, I think maybe I just have a little +superiority-God complex. Actually, that's just what some retarded gorillas +have been telling me. + +Degenerate trash. I'll kill you all. + +Interesting writing today coming out of me. Not sure where all of this is +coming from but I might as well keep going with it. Sometimes I feel really +stuck at home. I mean, there's no one around. Its about 80 degrees out and +there is nothing for me to frickin do all day long. I can read, but I've +read so much that I can hardly stand it anymore. I don't really like +talking to people when they come, except for a few of them. I get all +excited about something but then it never pans out. And I'm left, bored and +sad. + +A sick and boring reality, created by me. + +Just the way I like it. + +I mean, I think about what I think these emotionally horrible things were +for me.. But I see I created them. I think I was scared of how good things +were going, so I intentionally destroyed them for myself. I've created my +aloneness and unhappiness. I'm not totally alone. I just am through caring. +And that's not even the truth. I'm so twisted up in my own lies I can't +even see what the truth is. + +And you know what, these visions are scary. + +It scares the hell out of me. + +Seriously man, I think I gotta lay off the cough syrup. + +Yea to counting crows. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0493.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0493.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2d6242ca --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0493.txt @@ -0,0 +1,151 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hacker Charity + -------------- + +The scene sucks, among other reasons, because good hackers have made +hacking easy for stupid people. + +At some point, it must have been decided that new hackers needed 'help', +and that it was the duty of older, more experienced hackers to give it out. +I'm sure that it made sense at the time, but it hasn't worked out. Older +hackers didn't have any help. Why should younger ones have it any easier? +The only time we ever really learn anything is when we teach ourselves. + +Regardless, t-files were written. At the time, no harm was done because the +files were written for a small audience, like the members of a board. The +information was distributed to deserving people only. + +Learning is a gift, which cannot be fully appreciated until the gift is +passed on - and I am all for sharing information. I just want to make sure +that it goes to people who deserve it. The 2600 perversion of this idea is +utter bullshit, and has hurt the scene worse than anything else. Give a +piece of valuable information to everyone, and it becomes worthless. Yeah, +it's free, but it's useless. The 2600 ideology of "we'll try to teach you, +even if you're hopelessly stupid, nobody is too lame" has flooded the scene +with people who don't belong here. 2600 serves only to give kids enough +information to be a danger to themselves. + +One funny thing about t-files is that they are low-security. You would +think that a security-obsessed scene would keep its secrets secret, but no +- t-files have no access control. + +The other interesting thing about t-files is that they affect reality. Put +out a t-file that gets wide distribution and it will actually affect the +world. Bugs get fixed. Defaults get changed. + +I think that half the reason that younger hackers climb all over the older +hackers for help is that it is more difficult to learn to hack on your own +than it was in previous years. It's more difficult because hackers blabbed +about bugs and stupid defaults, and the flaws were fixed. Many of the easy +bugs are gone. The lower rungs of the ladder have been removed. It's harder +to get started. + +And that's another thing: The focus of hacking has changed from playing on +computers (that's what I always called it before I learned that there were +'hackers') to security. I never saw security as being the goal; security +was just something that was in the way of playing on the computer. For me, +bypassing security has always been secondary. It is the primary focus of +the scene today. + +The other new stupid idea is that it's our job to uncover security flaws +and report them. I have no idea where that one came from. Large quantities +of beer and N2O had something to do with it, I think. + +Daemon9 writes great technical articles. The problem that I have with his +stuff is that he includes source. I wonder how many people who use his +tools, could have written the code themselves. Maybe 10%. The rest get to +play hacker with tools they don't understand. Noted crackhead bitch CM made +a remark that his actions were analogous to dropping off AK-47s at a +playground. She had been hitting the pipe pretty hard at that point, I +imagine. The only thing that D9 does wrong by distributing code is to make +it easy for stupid people to pretend that they are hackers. + + +All an article needs to do is explain an idea or a technique. Leave +writing the code as an exercise for the reader. If the reader can write the +code, then they deserve it. If they can't, they need to study more and come +back to it later. If they never get around to writing the code themselves, +it's probably best that they don't have whatever it was. If the article is +deficient in some way, the reader can contact the author and the author can +decide whether the reader deserves help. This is a more secure system. + +Make it harder for hackers to be hackers and I think that many of the +problems that plague the scene will go away. Common courtesy will return. +Hackers will have at least grudging respect for each other. + +If you want to help the scene, make a pledge to stop trying to help the +hopeless. Don't answer stupid questions. Don't answer if the information +asked for is publicly available. Don't write "System X Made EZ" articles. +Don't write articles aimed at beginners. Don't include powerful code in +your articles. Set up non-net systems of your own. Strictly control access. + +New people: don't ask questions. All the information is out there. Stay +away from the scene. Study. Write all your own code. Don't use tools you +couldn't write yourself. Figure, whatever it is, out for yourself. If you +can't, go on to something else, and come back to the hard stuff later. If +you never seem to make any progress, get the fuck outta Dodge. Leave us alone. + +I close with a passage written by Herbert Spencer in the 1800s. He was +actually writing about the hardships of the poor, but it struck me that he +and I were writing about similar concepts. He says what I mean far more +eloquently than I ever could: + +Pervading all Nature we may see at work a stern discipline which is a +little cruel that it may be very kind.... It is much better that the +ruminant animal, when deprived by age of the vigor which made its existence +a pleasure, should be killed by some beast of prey, than that it should +linger out a life made painful by infirmities, and eventually die of +starvation.... [Beasts of prey] not only remove from... herds individuals +past their prime, but also weed out the sickly... By the aid of which +purifying process the race is strengthened and made happier.... It seems +hard that an unskillfulness which with all his efforts he cannot overcome, +should entail hunger upon the artisan.... It seems hard that widows and +orphans should be left to struggle for life or death. Nevertheless, when +regarded... in connection with the interests of humanity, these fatalities +are seen to be full of beneficence. + +There are many very amiable people who have not the nerve to look at this +matter fairly in the face. Disabled as they are by their sympathies with +present suffering,... they pursue a course which is injudicious, and in the +end even cruel. We do not consider it true kindness in a mother to gratify +her child with sweetmeats that are likely to make it ill. We should think +it a very foolish sort of benevolence which led a surgeon to let his +patient's disease progress to a fatal issue rather than inflict pain by an +operation. Similarly, we must call those spurious philanthropists who, to +prevent present misery, would entail greater misery on future generations. + + +That rigorous necessity which, when allowed to operate, becomes so sharp a +spur to the lazy and so strong a bridle to the random, these paupers' +friends would repeal, because of the wailings it here and there +produces.... At first sight these considerations seem conclusive against +all relief to the poor--... [But] it is only against... injudicious charity +that the foregoing argument tells. To that charity which may be described +as helping men to help themselves, it makes no objection. + + +brian +sysp@dimensional.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0494.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0494.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..aa0b987c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0494.txt @@ -0,0 +1,431 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + celibacy: the new frontier + -------------------------- + +I did something I haven't done in a while tonight. +I masturbated. + +It was odd. Lying in bed in the dark, thinking about the articles I had +just read in Cosmo. And I started planning something to write myself. Maybe +it was the article on how to seduce a man, or some crap that got me +thinking about masturbation. They had this little quiz that I took and +found out I was a "femme fatale seductress". Whatever the hell that means. + +Next thing I know, my hand is down underneath my panties and I feel if I am +wet. I'm not, but it doesn't matter. It was trepidation of masturbation +itself. How long had it been? Months? Could I still remember to get myself +off? + +Being an avid masturbator in the past, I achieved orgasm pretty quickly, +and felt myself relax. It had been a long time. + +And as I climbed out of bed to write this, I could smell my pussy on my +fingers. Each time I bring my cigarette up to my lips for a puff, I can +still smell myself. + +And I laugh. + +My laughter is not because it is 1:32am and I have to get up in four hours, +nor is it the lack of a sex partner. It's a laugh on how almost ironic this +whole situation is. + +Sexuality/sensuality is a tabooed subject, depending on who you are. My +thoughts and feelings on sex have varied over the years since I was a +child, and I know the older I get the more it is going to vary. Lately, I +have noticed how tired I was of sex, and masturbation, and a self-imposed +celibacy was in order. + +Lisa's friends: "We've heard this one before." + +In order to get to the heart of the matter, lets trace back to the early +roots of when I was a child. This is a subject I've never really explored +before, other than mentions of "I've fucked him", or "we made love", or +something else of that genre. + +I remember being 13 years old, and in the eight grade. I had the biggest +crush on Nick Hill. He was tall, sandy haired and had green eyes. I +remember, that spring of 1986, I was different then I was in the fall of +1985. I had lost majority of my baby fat, I had gotten my mother to ditch +my glasses for contacts, and I had finally filled out as female: Boobs, +hips, long legs. The works. + +I remember standing with Nick behind a building one sunny spring day. He +kept trying to kiss me. I kept backing away. Have a guy stick a tongue in +my mouth? Are you nuts? But, back then, my views on life were pretty prim +and proper. After a self-schooling in various religions - going to Catholic +school for 8 years and convinced I wasn't attractive enough for any man - I +figured if I didn't have a bf by the time I was 20, I would just resign +myself to being a spinster and that was that. My thinking was that my +education and my mind were the most important features I would need, that +would be the end of it. + +However, hormones and ideals don't mix well, and Nick finally succeeding in +giving me a french kiss. I don't remember much after that, other than he +dumped me for my best friend Love, because she put out. + +My purity was important to me. Over the next couple of years, high school +relationships faltered in the raging hormone scene. Meaning, I would "go +with" someone, and do everything but go down on them or fuck them. Why +should I? I was saving myself for someone "pure" just like I was - someone +who was going to "love me" for me. That was important. My mind, who I was, +and what I was. Not this groping in the back of cars or stealing moments +behind the tennis court. It seemed trivial and unimportant. + + +That's what I was "telling" people, but inside was a whore raging to get +out. Masturbation had been my nightly feed since I was about 12. I feared +once I "really" let go, there was going to be no stopping me. I feared +becoming a slut, a whore, whatever you wish to call it, and not having any +self-respect for "me". + +Oh sure, there were times I almost succumbed. Once was with Chad +Whatshisname, that I was desperately in love with my sophomore year. He +dropped me because, you guessed it: I wouldn't put out. + +My attitude was changing though. It seemed that the more I grew "up" and +"out" physically, some issues were beginning to rein in their heavy head. + +That summer, of 1987, my father came to visit. This was a moment that would +perhaps alter my destiny. In was during that time, that when my mother had +suggested that I had been sexually abused. I had thought about it, but +personally, I just figured it was my over-active imagination going haywire +and too many Monday Night Movies. But her words to me made sense. + +It seems that one summer when I was 8, I was shipped off to my father for a +few weeks. My mother had left my father when I was five months old and +moved back to the States. My father had visitation rights, but there were +periods, long periods, that I never saw him. It seems that my father wanted +me to stay with him for a few weeks in Toronto, which my mother agreed to. +I came home days later, and I didn't say why. However, my mother counters +that my father and I were staying in a hotel, and they became concerned +because my father was so much older then I was (45 years older). The police +were brought in for something, and I was shipped home. + +My questions remain to this day: If that was my mother's suspicion, then +why did she leave me in his care after that? + +I've never really gotten down to the nitty-gritty details of what happened, +but what I do remember of my childhood is being afraid of men - primarily +my uncles John and Bill, but never my father. Too many times, I remember +being scared shitless when having to deal with them at family occasions. I +don't remember much else. + +Was I abused sexually? + +Well according to some friends, my behavior sexually doesn't leave a doubt +in their mind. But me personally? My best guess is I don't know. Too many +instances that relatives would bring up - instances of my overtly +passionate behavior when I was a child - indicate otherwise. + +For instance: + +When I was a child, my Uncle Duwayne used to make his toes crawl across the +floor at which I screamed in delight. Could this perhaps lead to the reason +why I hate the thought of toe sucking, or why I have condemned my feet to +being the ugliest on the earth? + +When I was six or seven, I cornered Jeff Whatshisname behind a tree and +kissed him. That innocent kiss lead to the reason why my brother is now +named Jeff. + +When I was three, I used to go around and "paw" at my older cousin Doug, +and declared that I was going to marry him. + +My mother wrote in my baby book that I adored males of any kind that came +near me. Much more so then I should have as a kid, I would suppose. + + +So to me, something is not jelling here. Was I one born of wonton +behavior, or am I sexually repressed, or what-not? + +Coming ahead a few years, by the time I was 15, I had kissed many a men in +my time. I liked kissing. I liked making out. I liked being rough with a +guy. My tastes, though, were starting to go a bit overboard. I started +getting excited over the thought of BDSM, and domination and submission. To +dominate a guy, or be submissive "to" a guy, was beginning to form ideas in +my head. + +Nearing the end of my sophomore year in high school, I met Chuck. Chuck was +everything my mother wanted me to have in the typical bf. He was smart +(salutatorian of his graduation class), he was German, he was Catholic, and +he had everything going for him. He was the archetype of what I was dating +previously: the little high school boys who cared about nothing more then +sex and football/basketball/insert a sport here. + +Chuck's and my first meeting, though, was amusing. Seeing as he was someone +who wasn't as aggressive as I was, I leaned in to kiss him, only to have +him bite my tongue! Laughing as he did, on his way out the door, I was +furious. How dare he! + +I was convinced by this time that I was in love with him, and I wanted to +be Mrs. Veneklase. Sure, he was two years older than I was, but heck, I was +a smart and ambitious girl. I was probably picking out kid's names. + +One particular cold Michigan night, Chuck took me to his family's cottage +on a lake south of Grand Rapids. It was such a beautiful night, the stars +were all shinning clearly, and I could almost reach out and touch them. +Chuck broke into the cabin, and we took a look around. Over 30 years worth +of Veneklases had been there. Names etched in the wood. To get in the +spirit, I etched in "Lisa and Chuck, 1988". + +A lone cot was the source of our make out session. With no heat, below-zero +temperatures, we stripped off our shirts and got down to some heavy +sessions of making out. This was it. This was the time that I had been +waiting for! Finally! + +But it was not to be. No matter how much I begged, pleaded, or cajoled, he +wasn't going to give it up to me. One aborted attempt earlier in our +relationship proved to him that my screaming, when he stuck his cock in me, +was not going to be the most romantic way of making love. + +And as all high school relationships do, we broke up. The main reason? +Because the one time I wanted to - eagerly and passionately wanted to give +it up - he didn't want it. + +Fast forward ahead a year, and I've now just turned 17. Some say 17 is a +magical age, but depending on who you are talking to, it can vary. By the +time I was 17, I had one aborted suicide attempt, dropped out of high +school (only to return later to jeers from the upperclassman), and finally +had my weight under control again. Then I met Scott. + +Scott was swimming in our local pool, where my friends and I used to hang +out everyday. We were all bronzed, toned, and trimmed from swimming day in +and day out all summer long. Scott happened to know some friends in the +area and was visiting them when we first saw each other. + + +I don't remember if I seduced him first, or if he came on to me, but I do +remember that four days later, I was lying on my back, my ass propped up on +pillows, as he and I attempted to have sex. + +I remember my first thoughts: "This is it?" + +Finally, my friends said, I was no longer a virgin. My virginity irked them +much more then it irked me. But it was twisted fate. I -wanted- to have +sex, but on the flip side, I wanted to wait. Chuck blowing me off really +had hurt me, and I couldn't understand why I felt 'nothing' when Scott and +I fucked. It drove me insane. + +Over the course of a couple of months, Scott and I fucked with about as +much passion as a cat on a cold roof. We got caught by my brother and his +friends, watching us one day in my bed, but other than that, it lacked +anything real. I kept insisting that he loved me, and I loved him. Of +course, was his beating me up, telling me what to wear, who I was going to +see, or what I was doing , was a part of this decision? Of course not. + +Less then two months later, Scott and I broke up. The reason? He found a 14 +year old, self-proclaimed whore, who had done most of the neighborhood. I, +of course, retaliated by getting his best friends to like me. I also +retaliated by getting Scott to come over one day after school, got him +high, and finally making love. + +In the course of ages 17-19, I had slept with several men. There was Greg, +who had the largest dick known to man. He proceeded to break up with me on +my 18th birthday, but thought he was doing me a favor by dating my best +friend Angie, and sleeping with me, before I moved to Toronto some months +later. + +There was Miguel, who proclaimed I was the only woman for him. He would +follow me around when my friends and I would go to teen night at the local +club, show up at my house with roses, or just basically obsess about me. Of +course, could our five-year on-and-off-again love affair mean much to me? +How could it? He got obsessive to the point of having people watching my +every move, and got so disgusted when I started dating someone else, that +he flew back from Guam with two plane tickets - and left with an empty seat +next to him. Maybe my decision to rebuff his offer had a lot to do with me +calling him one night, only to hear his drunken words, that he had just +done a 40 year old, and that "everything I do I do for you baby!". + +But that hurt: seeing the look in his eyes when I said 'no.' He retaliated +by convincing me later on that he was still in love with me, and when I +finally succumbed, yet again, he left me with a 1400 dollar cellular bill. + +And how could I forget Alan? Alan, who, in part, took away a lot of my +innocence. Alan, who I finally found a kink partner in - having sex +everywhere and anywhere convenient. Alan, my first soul mate, and my first +adult relationship! Oh Alan! Alan, who I would go down on the minute he +walked in the door, or who I would let use anything tangible to fuck me +with. Of course, his sleeping around on me for nearly half of our +relationship, and NOT using protection, had nothing to do with my wanting +to remain with him. Of course it had nothing to do with him going shopping +one day, only to have him turn and look at me and say, "With your face, and +Cindy Crawford's body, you could make a lot of money." Of course, it had +nothing to do with, after "finally" breaking it off, that he was still +calling me at work, at home, and telling me "I love you Lisa, and she (his +new girlfriend) is not you." + + + Of course it had nothing to do with him nearly stalking me throughout our +breakup; of his breaking into my house and watching me sleep; or sitting in +his car across the street to wait till I came home; or calling me if I +wasn't at home when I should be. And heaven forbid if I was dating someone +else. + +And then there was the other Scott, who was 12 years my senior. We never +slept together, but he sure loved telling his friends about his sexy, 20 +year old girlfriend. + +And Bryan. Can't forget Bryan, who I woke up to raping me one morning - and +it took me a few hours to realize what he did was "wrong". + +Oh...and Christian. Now this is a good one. A self-imposed loaner who liked +to dress up in women's clothing, and the -only- way he could get off is by +having a dildo shoved up his ass. Gee, the most memorable night was the +night I tied him up nearly hog-style, wearing bra and panties, blind +folded, and shoved a dildo up his ass. When I left the room, I gave strict +instructions for him not to move an inch. 10 minutes later, I hear snoring. +I slam open the door to see that he had FALLEN ASLEEP, with a 7 inch big +ass dildo up his rear end. And oh how he loved spankings! Broke a wooden +paddle on his ass. + +And Danny. The man I almost married, and broke it off with: twice. The +first night he and I slept together, I felt like I was in heaven. Now here +was someone that I could relate to sexually, who was aggressive and +demanding and knew how to please me. Well, I was wrong. Sex turned into a +guilt trip, where he would cum too fast, and blame it on me. "It's all your +fault," he'd say, "that I cum so fast." + +I had to save the best for last. Jeff. My prince. The man, whom for nearly +a year, I burned the wires with. The man whom I shared my darkest fantasies +with, whom I related everything about me, and whom I would get hot just +thinking about. "Could it be," I'd ponder, "I have finally met my match? +Someone who not only sees the world as I do, but to have the same fucked up +sense of sexuality?" For nearly a year I had nary a though in my head, in +between lovers and cross-countries moves, and long distance telephone calls +that left us both gasping for cigarettes. So when I finally met him, and I +sat there, exhausted from being up for so many days, just happy to be in +his orbit, he rejects my kiss. He rejected me. "I still feel for you +emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually, but not physically." + +WHAT?!?! + +This coming from the same man who once told me, amidst his philosophical +babble, that come the time we met, he could not guarantee love and +affection, but a hard on and a good fuck? This coming from a man who once +said that all I was good for was computers and sex? + +Five days of intense torture, being in the same room with someone I had +been desiring for nearly a year? Sitting there, pondering, wondering "what +the hell", only to have him look at me and say that? No kids...the trip to +Pennsylvania did NOT go well. + +How his words are still burned deep in my heart; how he accused me of not +having any feeling; and with that smug look on his face, tell me that I +saved it all for my F.U.C.K. files? That everything I did, was written up, +zipped up and sent to 1000's of readers? How I took those words to heart, +so disgusted with him and with myself for allowing this happen, that I +haven't written a word in over two months? How fucking ANGRY!?! I am still +not over this whole issue. + + +I am not angry at just the whole Jeff thing. It's always the assumption +that I am going to fuck you; just because I've flirted, slept with in the +past, or even made a pass at you? Who the FUCK gives you the right to +dictate what I am going to do with my body? Or allowing myself to be +guilt-tripped into thinking that I want to fuck you for the first time, or +even again? Don't always assume that based on my past, or my actions, that +I am an easy lay. How dare YOU for even thinking that. I will NOT allow +myself to be guilt-tripped into a spineless relationship by someone who +doesn't even have the courage to be themselves. And I will not allow myself +to be manipulated into being someone's whore. Ever again! + +I'm pretty angry. + +Till now. + +A deep sereneness has been in my aura for over an hour now. It is going on +3am, and whatever I felt in my heart, and in my soul, has been laid to +rest. Nothing exists it seems, other then the sound of the rain against my +windowpane. + +I'm not looking to be a martyr. I'm not looking for anything. Understanding +for who and what I am, and the fact that I am human - but there are some +things I did not deserve. Oh granted, no one forced me into these +relationships. I walked into them wide-open, but now, looking objectively, +I can see how blind sided I was. By what? Allowing myself to be used for a +bit of love and affection? To stifle the anger when men make passes? To not +allow myself to lose weight so that the whole tragic cycle won't start again? + +Self-respect: + +I will NOT allow to be treated as anything other than a human being. + +I will NOT allow to be used as someone's sex toy just because my libido is +high. + +I will NOT allow to be called a "whore", a "tramp" or a "slut", even when +said in jest. + +I will NOT allow myself to be trapped into relationships with people whom I +know it will not work out, for the sake of not being alone. + +I will NOT allow myself to be with someone I am not physically close to. + +I will NOT allow people to assume that my visiting them is mutually +exclusive to sleeping with them. + +I will NOT allow people to tell me that being alone is for losers. + +I will NOT allow myself to be trapped in this cycle of bad relationships. + +I will ALWAYS keep standing for what I believe in, and I will NOT allow +others to change my mind for the good of "them". + +I will NOT allow my past to predict my future. + +For nearly two months, I've done nothing but work/sleep/work/sleep. No time +to do anything; not even to read email. I've discovered that if you work +really hard, the pain you carry due to some emotional heartache doesn't +exist. + +But see, that's the catch, it does exist. It exists in that brief moment +before you fall asleep. It exists when you are listening to cds, and a +certain phrase hits you. It exists when you are walking and you see +something of remembrance, though you've never been there/seen it before. + +It's always there. No matter how much you mask it, or how much you try and +hide from it. Cross-country moves, convincing yourself you are in love with +someone you are with, placing your ideal on someone else's head. + + +I don't want sympathy. I'm hardly an angel, but I won't let other's words +or actions dictate what I am going to do. For over two months now, not a +peep has been written out of me. My personal writings site was torn down. +All due to hateful words directed at me during an argument that was going +nowhere. + +Well fuck 'em. It's my life, and if you can't accept the choices I've made, +the deeds that I have done, or the fact that it is going to take a lot to +get into THESE pants, then I really don't want you being a part of it. + +Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore." + +And I concur. + +-Simunye +April 5, 1998 +3:04am +lisa@simunye.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0495.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0495.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c85afd83 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0495.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Why I Won't Be Writing For F.U.C.K. Anymore + ------------------------------------------- + +Because I hate every one of you. If you're happy, then I hate you because +you're happy. If you're depressed, then I hate you because you're too +fucking weak to get over it. If you're angry, then I hate you because you +have nothing better to expend your energy on than being angry. Fuck +that...I hate you just for having enough energy to be angry. If you hate +something, or someone in particular, then I hate you because you're petty. +If you hate everything in general, then I still hate you for not being able +to find anything good in anything. + +I want to die right now, but I can't. I want to kill myself, but it's not +possible - because until someone proves otherwise, I'm going to stick to +the belief that I'm immortal. I'm not going to waste my time trying to put +a bullet in my head because I know it's pointless. Might as well try to set +the wind on fire. + +I want to kill someone right now...not someone in particular...several +people....all people...every single one of you motherfuckers should do me a +favor and ingest a couple bottles of pain killers washed down with a bottle +of wine. Don't do it for me, though. Do it for yourself. You'll be better off. + +You say I'm inhuman? Fuck you, I don't need your compliments. I am +inhuman...I've evolved so far above humanity that you'll never understand +how truly inferior you are. Your minds are incapable of understanding the +basic facts of life, let alone the universal truths. Do you realize how +much space you waste? In the grand scheme of the universe, perhaps you're +nothing more than a speck of dust...that's a hell of a lot more than you +deserve. + +These might seem like the crazed ramblings of a manic-depressive to you, +but that's simply because you're too stupid to read between the lines. It +was always meant to be like this. The pain and suffering was planned from +day one. Could I change the course of destiny? Of course. But why bother? I +like seeing you fuckers squirm. + +I want to set fire to the Eiffel Tower. I want a piece of watermelon bubble +gum. I wonder why they stopped making OJ cereal. I want someone to have a +heart attack while pissing on my grave. I want sit on the "other side" and +laugh as all the Christians realize how stupid they were to believe in god. +I want a kiss before dying. I want to stop writing this stupid file now. + + +-InVerse +Free Kevin...Fuck Jesus +If either of these offend you, go to hell. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0496.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0496.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1cb557b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0496.txt @@ -0,0 +1,74 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Me, Myself, and I + ----------------- + +Me - Hate parts of me, and rip on them constantly in my thoughts. Never +wishing to look in a mirror, and never thinking that me would find someone +that would ever wish to look at me; much less take the time to know the +real 'me'. + +Myself - The part that is locked up, and rare if anyone ever finds or knows. +No one has lasted long enough, through all the different paths, to find +myself; and at times, not even myself. + +I - I am the one that most people think different things about. But, what I +am made of, and what makes I able to continue, are things that I have +rarely ever shared. The times that I have, I've learned not to - ever +again. + +These three parts of what makes Me, Myself, and I, are only glimpses into +what I am all about; and what I think of myself and do with myself; and +what makes me, 'me'. + +They are not different personalities, because everyone has them. They are +different sides to me that make up the one that you see or hear. + +At times, names just have no importance in my world. The only one there +is, is just Me, Myself, and I. So, that is why I have started to sign +things that way. Really, because why sign them any differently? No one +would seem to mind, and no one would even blink an eye to think that it +equals a different name. + +So, here I sit and type and write and then sign "Me, Myself, and I". Not to +fool anyone, but, really, that is all there is at times. + +Me is the one that I need to depend on to find myself, and make myself happy. +And I am the only one that can make that happen, so I need to sometimes be +just by myself, to find me, and to make 'me', and so I can be a whole that +equals myself and I. + +This is no riddle, just thoughts and the truth of who "Me, Myself, and I" +are and what they add up to: another name, another face, another body, +another person...with one that you already know. + +01/18/98 + +Someday I will be able to look at myself as a whole instead of just different +parts that add up to be me in the end. + +-Me, Myself, and I. +01/24/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0497.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0497.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2f830ad5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0497.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + No Second Thoughts + ------------------ + +If at one time I would start to write as thinking, it would be writing too +fast and without course. + +I sit, throwing my random mind onto paper, the ash growing longer all on +its own. + +Pictures, pointless, nothing to do with my current pattern of thought. + +Drawing a blank. It happens to the best...or so I've told myself. I want to +believe that it's true, on the coincidence that it happens to me. If I can +just convince myself, it easily, naturally, becomes truth. + +No second thoughts. + +Shaking, I throw my ash to its appointed dish. Throwing any thoughts. +Scribbling them onto the parchment of a supportive friend, I make no +progress because my thoughts never cease. If my hand could keep up it would +make no sense; random words slipping themselves in and out of phrases, +destroying their meaning. But as prescribed, I continue. + +I clean it off but it falls into chaos. + +I try to fix, but it only gets worse. + +They tell me I'm smart, but a truly smart person cannot fail. They see +their mistakes before they make them, and they prevent them. + +They tell me my standards for myself are too high, but if they are set by +me, why shouldn't I be able to reach them? +I only have one goal: I want to know everything. If I can know everything, +I cannot fail. I cannot forget. I do. I do. It gets lazy. I learn but I +cannot always use, so it fades. + +I know so little. + +Never look at the goal before you reach it. You will always be shown two +things: The fact that you have not yet reached it, and just how far you are +from it. + +Every day I search, I watch, I learn. + +Every day I get farther from my goal. + +Everyone but me makes everything that I use at my own expense. I just don't +have the equipment, I tell myself, but someone had to make that equipment, +using equipment, which they had to have the equipment to make. Even if I +knew how to make it, I would still be where I am. Sad, because there is +still something that I do not know how to do. + +I can figure out anything if I just think, but I am confident in the track +I take - even when that track is wrong. I do not consider all of the +options. I try to bend my chosen option, but it will not bend. + +Everyone fails, or so I'm told, but I do not want to be everyone. I want to +be the one that sets the standard of accomplishment, then exceeds that +standard to a greater degree than does anyone else. + +My hand tires of steering the pencil, but my mind races on, having had more +practice at it's trade, and needing no muscles to control it. It does the +controlling. + +What controls my brain? I do. And I can fail. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0498.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0498.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8e2a801a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0498.txt @@ -0,0 +1,213 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Jimmy's + ------- + +Yet another day in little Jimmy's life, another day he had to deal with +school and all the shit that comes with it. It wasn't like he was a bad +student, it was the complete opposite, he was a good student, always +getting good grades and doing all his homework. + +But there was a problem with this picture, nobody liked him. He couldn't +quite figure why everyone seemed to pick on him, and why is it that whenever +anybody felt like kicking some ass, it had to be his. This he didn't know, +and because of that he was what you'd call a loner; he didn't have friends +at all, nor male, nor female. You know girls, they never want to be friends +with the dork, and the boys.. well, he was the school's punching bag. + +Jimmy was just your average kid, not good-looking, but not an ugly bastard, +either. He had had some eating disorder during the last year, that explained +his tubby look, as he was struggling to lose some excess 30 pounds. He used +to wear glasses until last summer, when he got some contacts; 'maybe they +wont pick on me that much after i get the contacts', he thought then, but +again, he was wrong. Ah well, at least they wont be breaking his glasses +every two weeks now. Heck, he thought he might get a friend by getting +rid of those ugly glasses. + +He lived with his mom in some middle-class home in the city. It was just +him and mom, it had been this way for the last 6 years, as dad thought it +would be better to run away with that hooker when he was just eight. He +used not to think about it that much, since he always thought it was +because of him dad left mom. Of course, he didn't have valid arguments +to support this, he just thought it was. It didn't matter that mom had +told him time and again that it wasn't his fault, that dad was an alcoholic +and it was better that way; he used to say 'I know' whenever mom said so, +but in the back of his mind there was always this thought that it happened +because of him. + +At least they weren't on the 'poor' side, he thought. Good thing mom gets +well paid and sends little Jim to a good private school, where she was +sure it was much better than those public schools, at least that's what +she thought. And since Jimmy never said a thing to her, she figured +everything was fine. Too bad some private schools are as bad if not worse +than public schools. + +Back to school. Our Jimmy was enjoying his meal when he noticed some kid +coming up to him, maybe he just wanted to take his lunch, and not force +him to do some pig sounds and then proceed to slam his head against his +meal like they've been doing for the last couple weeks or so. + +Jimmy started to get all tense as the other kid approached, he didn't +raise his head, and kept staring at his meal as the other hid stood next +to him. + +"Hey there, is this seat taken?" + +Huh? Could it be possible? somebody was actually talking to him during +lunch time?, it surprised the hell outta him as he had seen him before, +he used to hang with some guys that had picked on him a couple times, +even though he never had done so. Maybe today he would start. + +"Um, no, have a seat" + +He could barely utter those words since he was all tense, waiting for +some blow to the head to come, or the threat he was sure the other kid +was about to tell him. + +"I'm Mike, you might know me. I hang out with Alex and the other guys" + +Well, so far so good. At least he now knew the name of the guy that was +going to kick the living crap out of him, he thought for himself. As for +Alex and 'the other guys' he sure knew them. They were some sort of group +that always hang together, sometimes picking up fights, and others just +picking on the other kids that passed by, you can say they were the 'bad' +kids at school, no one messed with them, and they messed with everyone. +Cool stuff, according to Jimmy. He was lucky that they hadn't make an habit +of picking on him, they picked on him, but not often, besides that, why +would they do that on a regular basis if the whole school was taking care +of that, he reasoned. + +Turns out Mike wanted him to help him with a couple things from school. He +had heard that he was kind of a 'nerd' (in Mike's own words) and wanted +Jimmy to teach him some chem stuff for some test he was going to have. He +told Jimmy he needed to pass, or he was gonna flunk the course, and if that +happened, it would get ugly for Jimmy. But if he passed he promised Jimmy +he was going to tell Alex not to pick on him anymore. + +Jim got the idea immediately and agreed to help Mike. After all, he didn't +have anything to lose and a lot to gain, and he had lots of free time after +school since he had no friends. + +The day they were going to give out the grades for the exam Jimmy was as +nervous as he could get, he knew that his future at school depended on it, +literally speaking. He had made a good job teaching Mike, but still, he +was too insecure and so he was nervous. + +Finally, after waiting what it seemed like an hour, Mike came out of his +classroom and gave handed his exam to Jimmy. It read B+. Jim felt the +weight of the world getting off his shoulders now. Mike thanked him and +told him he would honor his word. + +After that, school seemed like a whole different place for him, he got +picked on less and less, and Mike even introduced him to the guys. + +He was getting respect. The respect he thought he deserved. And hey, Alex +and the other guys were not that bad, anyway. He began helping them all +with their homeworks (or shall we say, doing their respective homework) +and in turn he got more respect. Even though he didn't like the stuff the +other guys were doing that much, he started to hang with them more and +more, and people began to notice him. He liked that. + +It didn't wasn't long before they got in trouble. It seemed they had gone +into a convenience store after the arcades, and some other guy from the +group, Will, shoplifted some beers. The only thing Jim recalls is the +shouting from the clerk and then running like hell. At least they didn't +get caught. And he liked that, he liked the adrenaline rush. It was the +most fun he had in his whole life, and now he had what he called 'friends' +which, quite frankly, were more like partners in crime. When he first met +the guys he didn't know they did this sort of thing, since they just picked +on people and that sort of thing at school, but again, it didn't matter to +Jim, 'cause he liked it. + +Time passed and things began to get more hectic, fights here and there. +Jim had his first smoke, and after a couple more months he had his first +joint. He felt weird the first time, but everybody told him that it was ok. +That they all had felt that way when they started to do it. They were +right, Jim thought. Now he always had a joint before going out with the +guys 'cuz he knew they were going to steal something sooner or later, and +that helped to relax him. + +Ah.. the life, Jim thought. He had really gotten used to it, and he sure +was enjoying it. + +Then, one day, it happened. One afternoon at 6.20 or so Mike came looking +for Jim. He was all excited and incoherent, white as a dead, and Jim +couldn't understand a word of what he was saying at first. He told Mike to +calm down. And then he began to understand. Alex. Something happened to +Alex. A stab. Alex had been stabbed in the back by some other guy, Mike +explained. It seemed that more than a year ago, before Jim hang out with +them, they had gotten into a fight with another group, kicking the shit +out of that group's leader. And now they had paid them back by stabbing +Alex. + +Jim knew what he had to do even before Mike mentioned it, he knew he had +to do the same to the other group's leader. That way, he would prove +himself worthy of hanging with them, and he would get respect from +everyone, the respect he craved for, the respect he deserved. + +Mike handed Jim a knife he had with him. It was a double-edged knife, with +a 5inch. blade. A good knife. It would do the job quickly and easy. + +Also, Mike said, he was the only one that could do the job, since no one +from the other group knew him, that way he would have no problem getting +close to the guy and finishing him. + +Jim was aware of this, he knew he was the only one that could do the job. +And he was mad, they had stabbed his friend, Alex. The one he considered +his mentor, even more than Mike. Rage was flowing thru his veins, he +wanted to take the other guy down. All the hate that he had accumulated +thru the years of being beaten up, all the people that had looked down +on him. He thought of his dad, maybe by doing this he would remember he +had a child and come back to see him. He was decided to do it. + +Jim nodded, and Alex left after that knowing that his friend was going +to do it. + +That other guy never knew what hit him. The only thing he felt was a +sharp pain coming from his left side, then he fell on his knees just to +feel another stab on the back of his head, which was the last thing he +felt. + +The thrill of killing and the sensation of power were a natural high for +Jimmy, who afterwards felt it was payback time. Time to pay the world for +everything. His classmates. Mom for putting him in that school. That poor +bastard waiting for his girlfriend. Everyone. + +=-= + +"Think he fell for it?" asked Alex. + +"Yea, he did. Told you he was going to be useful someday" replied Mike. + +"Heh.. yea, who woulda know.." + +They kept on talking about how they had gotten rid of Jim and the other +guy. Making jokes and having a good time, afterall, the cops had just +received a call about kid stabbing another on the street.. + + +-shyguy +2/7/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0499.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0499.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a42b2b9b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0499.txt @@ -0,0 +1,176 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + E + - + +people are computers. nothing about them is known, but the truth is all +around us. the purpose of life is to find out how & why we exist. everything +people do explains what they are (the term i shall use for this & other +truths is "interaction", it describes *everything*, anyway), through the +process of interaction, & everything is *discovered* with interaction. +without interaction of some sort or another, we are *nothing* - we are as +we perceive a rock or other inanimate object, unalive (ie, interactionless). +i hope to further your understanding in this paper of everything, & expose +you to the truth in case i am done-away by the cyber (cyber meaning +EVERYTHING, including beyond this scope of reality) of the governmental +assassins, killing those who get too close to the truth +(i n t e r a c t i o n). + +as a base, i will explain what we "are", rather than explaining how i know +it to be. the human body is how we perceive a computer; our nerves are input +or mayhap dumb terminals which relay what is exposed to them/us. simply, +everything but the brain (in a non-physical sense, what "we" really are) +is a mechanism of communication (i n t e r a c t i o n). different types +of relayers do different things; touch sends to our brain (us/the kernel) +something we interpret as "touch", our "ears" send us sounds; our brain +just interprets the "message" as a different thing. it's like every dumb +terminal has a different means of communication, akin to different protocols +(IP, IPX, X.25 etc). our brain interprets the data after the header of said +protocol according to how the kernel interprets it (by looking what sort of +packet it is, & interpreting it accordingly). peoples' ailments can be +explained as such.. a damaged backbone means some/all interaction may be +lost on the journey to the kernel, hence multiple schlorosis; retarded +people's brains' way of interpreting a protocol is fucked up & may be only +so bad to begin with but as an added lack of interaction they get worse & +worse; "insane" people have perhaps like retardation, inherited or developed +makes no difference - insane people have outrun their kernels' ability to +function properly, read: information overload. + +so people being computers, or their meat equivalent (perhaps the model of +their creators (the computers', that is)), their is a "real life" (not +simulated, as their is in our created world) internet.. people communicate +& exchange data, do things based on that interaction (the internet tells +port 25 of terminal.com to give terminal.com's kernel to deliver a message +to a certain user/part of the machine, Interaction gives person information, +person acts on information (in the form of thought on the data received, or +the persons' perception is modified by said data)). people can "flood" other +people just like pingfloods, or synfloods, & depending on the type of excess +of interaction get screwed up in some way or other.. synfloods just stop +access to a port (if the kernel has resource limits for a given process, +otherwise *everything* gets fucked up as it would if a computer didn't have +resource limits for a given process - it'd fuck up *all* resources (of a +persons' mind in this case). ICMP flooding might be straight kernel +interaction (unless in the case of say win 3.11 running trumpet winsock - +the control messages for a process don't do dick unless their fucking with +direct kernel interaction) so like it'd fuck everything up, to a degree at +any rate if not entire. some people won't have built-in interaction skills +to their kernel, so "the real thing that is interaction" won't adversely +affect their interaction prowess since they don't exist per se in an +interacter's reality. & so on. + +obviously, it's not just a matter of the protocol being used in a flood +attack, it's to do with exploits in the actual protocol itself. winnuke, +nestea, etc.. exploit problems in the kernel's "interaction stack" (like +a TCP stack, or whatever). people that interact more with develop ways to +cope with such an attack & "patch" themselves accordingly... such holes +might just be a nasty shock to the person or perhaps stop them functioning +in a normal manner (read: denial of service), but it might be used to +exploit a person to do something they might not otherwise do, or at least +do it under the influence of the attacker (ie putting shellcode in someone's +head to make them hump the cat). such people (interaction hackers, who hack +interactively with people in a non-internet (per se) sense) go far in +whatever aspect they are exploiting (perhaps gaining other peoples' +knowledge of reality without devoting their own kernel resources, leaving +them more kernel resources to do with as they wish - all aside (read back +a bit), it's probably not likely to be done in such a manner because the +majority of people don't think about why they're HERE anymore, they just +go along with an interaction-less illusion (which to them seems real), so +like they just want more money or more sex or whatever, not going for the +real picture of what we're all here for). yes. + +what lies on the other side of interaction i really don't know - like, +interaction leads to SOMETHING (perhaps with interaction on a different +scale), but i haven't attained that level of knowledge because obviously +there's not adequate knowledge on why we're here (yet). i know there are +forces pushing against me, trying to keep me down in this level of +interaction, this domain of consciousness, & i perceive them as being the +fourth dimensional cancerman from the x-files, or like someone like that. +perhaps the next level of consciousness' "average joe" is like a conspirator +as there are in what you call the "real world"... our "average joe" in this +level of consciousness is merely a tv-watching slob who cares only for sex, +& even then the higher people (upper-class pedro) are still stuck on "real +world" things, & see interaction as a tool to get whatever "real world" +thing they want. dood, we're all *dumbasses*! except me & a few other +people who might see interaction for what it is, as i do. + +this "hacking" thing (it's just the word you & me use, there's some cosmic +identity tag *somewhere* with a "real name" for it, but like hacking is our +narrow-minded way of seeing something attainable on this level of +consciousness but so far it's only been put in a +physical/"real world"/unreal-to-interaction sense, not to gain consciousness +through interaction) is present in all level of consciousness bar perhaps +one or more right up "near the top" on the scale of consciousness (we're +on a level in another dimension, we have to fight our way up there through +the 4th, 5th, 6th, ..., Nth dimension), but that is because there isn't a +need for it, you've attained what you would call "godliness". maybe other +factors come into play, like instead of backstabbing & exploiting as we do +by hacking, there are ways of interaction in a "nice way" to gain knowledge. +fuck, there is too!@#! i just realized i may not be like you are & people +might attain interaction in a different manner.. like, "pleasant" interaction. +anyway, welcome to the show.. i still don't think you'd realize it like +i do, so we'll have to get like guild masters together & go up to interaction +by co-operation (a form of interaction, maybe a protocol of interaction, i +don't know).. like, backstabbing interaction master scex, pleasantry +interaction master tusker, frailty interaction master steady eddy, rush +interaction master eko (of renegade rewind fame)... let me explain that +rush (this might say that i am multi-interaction capable), i get rushes +from real good music like as if (if not EXACTLTY THE SAME AS) i were on +ecstacy... i hack (hacking interaction), i can be pleasant to people to get +knowledge/interact-with-said-person (pleasantry interaction), i can act +like a wuss & look & act hurt & shit to win things from people (frailty +interaction), i can be violent & hurt people to get my own way (power +interaction, not described before as there are shitloads to describe & i +have more important stuff to tell you than the different methods of +interaction)... far out.. nifty! we can all go together to the next level +of consciousness!@#!@ but like no doubt there'll be people who want to +hold people down & have more power for themselves at the next level. hey +shit! those people could be like icons you "people" worship! like jesus +escaped to the next level, so'd vishnu, hitler, elvis.. the lot!@!!! & +like they get some sick thrill out of being remembered for what they did & +holding the earth-bound "mortals" (ie 3rd dimension, non-interaction +no-clues) down & not letting them come up to the next level of realization, +restraining them from their "birthright" (it goes beyond existing in your +"physical" sense into your "existing" sense). that sucks. :( you worship +gods, i spit on you... they're FALSE! there is no GOD! idiots. maybe THIS +is why jesus et al spat on you & hold you down from the next level because +you're all so damned gullible & silly. gosh! but i love you all too much +to do the same (except maybe to a select few) & hold you down for ever. + +so like as "your" ("you" aren't worth naming, you're crap & u suck) leader, i +promise to take... "you"... to a higher level of consciousness & achieve +tranquillity, reach the end of the interaction, be the only "real" thing there +is that exists! whoopee!!! crapheads, you so don't deserve me, i'm so much +better than anything that's been around before, better than anything +currently on the lower side of the next plane of existence up from us, +maybe more.. but i really will care for you, & you don't have to smoke me +off or anything, because i don't care for "physicalities". they're nothing, +they don't damn well exist when your level of realization is high enough. + +ok.. i hope that's enough for you, i'll probably be able to tell you more +even when i'm not high because i've done a fair bit of self-interaction +while writing this out if it's not, mail me & ask. + +scex +scex@dqc.org + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0500.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0500.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d32581c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0500.txt @@ -0,0 +1,204 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Five Zero Zero + -------------- + + Little over five years and five hundred files later, here I +am a world away from where it started. Have you thought about what +all goes by in five years time? How those things influence and change +us? Let me list a few that come to mind for me and the zine. + + + I have lived in three cities at seven addresses. + + Had three cars and five jobs. My first job while + working on the zine was making a little above minimum + wage. Now I am salaried with bonus and 401k. + + Two serious girlfriends, two other girlfriends + worth mentioning. (ie: lasted more than 3 months) + One of the serious ones was Demonika, who is the + second largest contributor to the zine. + + Six laptops, fourteen full size computers (most of + which run some flavor of Unix). The zine started + with me having a 2400 baud modem, and is currently + hosted on my own network which is colocated on + a burstable T3. Laptops are significant as I write + most of my files on them while watching movies or + spending time outside of my computer room. + + 500 files, 167 pieces of mailed replies to those + files. + + Three cats. (four if you count Dem's second cat + that is my surrogate step-child). Ms Kitty (the + family cat) who was put to sleep last month at + 21 years old. Speedbump, 20th century cult hero + who is living with Demonika. Roadblock, an alien + child who was adopted to give Speedbump some company + during the day. And my new son SnowCrash who has + recently taken to pissing on my couch cushions to + show his love for me. + + An average of 5 diet cokes a day which totals + about 9125 in five years. I bet there were more. + + 157,680,000 seconds. That's roughly 4% of the average + life span today. + + + So what the hell did any of that have to do with anything? +Think back to the first year of the 'zine and look at the transition +it has gone through. Started by a 19 year old college dropout +just learning about life, and now going strong by a 24 year old +computer professional. Simply amazing when I think about it. Moreso +when you see the same fundamental thoughts and beliefs held by the +writers. On top of the drastic changes in my life, you can imagine +what some of the others have gone through. + + Five years, five hundred files, ninety six different writers, +and over four megs of text. Bruce Sterling's _The Hacker Crackdown_ +is about 400k in ASCII format. That means the collected works of +F.U.C.K. is over ten times the length of that book. "Truly impressive" +is the first thing that comes to my mind. "Downright scary" the second +after I think about it. How many files are written about problems in our +lives or in society. What does that tell you about the perceived +world we live in? Tells me to be afraid. Very afraid. + + dis + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + F.U.C.K. Member List + -------------------- + (the revised 'positions' are inside jokes) + + Written Handle Position/Title Status + --------------------------------------------------------- + - 115 - Disorder - mea culpa - Active - (1) + - 38 - Demonika - Evil One - Active - (2) + - 19 - Kamira - Little Ms. Normal - Active - + - 15 - Rage - Mad Empire - Active - + - 14 - Voyager - Philosopher - Active - + - 14 - Se7en - Media Whore - Active - + - 13 - Capone - Sensai - Active - + - 13 - DropComm - kohei - Active - + - 12 - Pallbearer - Artist' - Active - + - 12 - Simunye - Ms. Attitude - Active - + - 11 - Fastjack - Grunt - Active - + - 10 - Legion - Media Play Security - Active - + - 9 - Inverse - Haxor - Active - + - 9 - Illusionary - Frat Boy - Active - + - 7 - Murc - Arthritis - Inactive - + - 6 - Wednesday - Delicate Flower - Active - + - 6 - Overdriver - Writer - Inactive - + - 5 - Malloc - Evil - Inactive - + - 5 - Major - Corporate - Active - + - 4 - Tersian - 9to5 - Active - + - 4 - SkinFlower - Chix0r - Inactive - + - 4 - Porno Funk - Writer - Active - + - 4 - L. Humongous - Writer - Active - + - 4 - Anarchon - Anarchist - Active - + - 4 - Acid Warlock - Writer - Inactive - + - 3 - YT - spiritual guidance - Active - + - 3 - Spyder - Cynic - Active - (3) + - 3 - SickBoy - Writer - Active - + - 3 - Shyguy - writer - Active - + - 3 - Red Baron - Writer - Active - + - 3 - Morpheus - Writer - Inactive - + - 3 - Max Headroom - Writer - Inactive - + - 3 - K2 - TNo Bitch - Inactive - + - 3 - Death - Writer - Active - + - 3 - Deadkat - Oracle - Inactive - + - 3 - Brooklyn - Badass - Active - + - 2 - Zens - Biznatch - Inactive - + - 2 - Unbidden - Idiot - Active - + - 2 - The Jackal - Writer - Active - + - 2 - T. Soul - Writer - Active - + - 2 - Styx - Writer - Active - + - 2 - Sadia - Gyrl Wunder - Active - + - 2 - Rabies - Writer - Active - + - 2 - Psycho - Writer - Inactive - + - 2 - PsI - Writer - Inactive - + - 2 - Orestes - Black Sheep - Inactive - + - 2 - Murmur - DTO Defector - Active - + - 2 - Loki - Writer - Inactive - + - 2 - Krystalia - Lick - Active - + - 2 - Jade - Familiar - Active - + - 2 - GNN - uXu Defector - Active - + - 2 - Flood - Writer - Active - + - 2 - FTF - Writer - Active - + - 2 - Distortion - Writer - Inactive - + - 2 - Disk Jockey - Writer - Inactive - + - 2 - Bluerose - Stalker - Active - + - 2 - Anarchy-X - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Zippy - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Zen - Stud - Inactive - + - 1 - Zach D. - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Wraith - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Uncle Elvis - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Telecon - Honorary Fed - Active - + - 1 - SysP - Not Jericho - Active - + - 1 - Slayer - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Shockwave - Chocolate - Inactive - + - 1 - Shaedow - Taste Tester - Active - + - 1 - Scex - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Rice - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Pluto - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Pill - Booze Brother - Active - + - 1 - Orbie - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Ntt 6 - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Night Hawk - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Nancy Dunlap - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Mordeth - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Mogel - FUCK Hoe - Active - + - 1 - Modify - Biatch - Active - + - 1 - Lord Byron - Byronite - Active - + - 1 - Lettus B - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Joeseattle - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Idiot - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Heather Maple- Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Hackem Siegh - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Far Reaches - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - El_jefe - Booze Hound - Active - + - 1 - Edchrist - Anger - Active - + - 1 - Doc. Z - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - Chris - Writer - Active - + - 1 - C. Stolle - Writer - Active - + - 1 - Apokolyps - Antichrist - Active - + - 1 - Ambrose - Writer - Inactive - + - 1 - A. royalty - Writer - Active - + --------------------------------------------------------- + (12 files have been submitted anonymously ) + (10 files are reprints from other sources ) + ( 2 files were contributed by all writers ) + (Files written by multiple author are credited to largest contributor.) + +updated as of 500 + + +(1) - Other handles: Damanstian, Dam +(2) - Other handles: Palpable Obscure +(3) - Other handles: Rio + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0501.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0501.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8e028464 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0501.txt @@ -0,0 +1,189 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND + --------------------------- + +There are over ten thousand ways to acquire root access on a server. + +I know less than five hundred. + +I need only one. + +Within the realm of the United States corporate, educational and +government agencies, the above words are an anathema. In a way, I +understand why; and that is why I detest their collective reaction all the +more. Rather than face up to their ignorance, corporate America, our +"institutions of higher learning" and our government prefer instead to +idly malign and otherwise regard as maladjusted anyone who can readily +breach their illusory security. + +Rather than dwell on the surfeit of media accounts in which the authentic +hacking community is inaccurately portrayed, I intend to devote this +article to a study of how and why we -- the hacking community -- are so +often the target of fear and loathing. Since I have the fortune of +working in a relatively high technology extension of the +military-industrial complex, I am often treated to a view from both sides +of the battle lines. + +Yes, battle lines. Make no mistake about it: we are at war. + +In wartime, one of the first things that must be accomplished by any +opposing faction is the relegation of the enemy to sub-human status. In +this respect alone, it is more than apparent that the computer underground +is indeed enmeshed in a war. On a daily basis, we are reminded of our +status. We have been labeled "digital terrorists," "electronic +corporate raiders," and, of course, "fucked up college kids." Even the +simple term "hacker" has become synonymous with malevolent intent. + +These terms and connotations are not merely antagonistic wordplay. Their +very design serves to prevent the government, university and business +worlds from comprehending our humanity. And just as the governors of the +South in the 1960s saw no reason to listen to "no upstart nigger," so the +leaders of the largest sectors of American existence see no reason to +listen to any "punk hackers." + +Of course, once the enemy has been stripped of its humanity, a wholesale +erosion of that group's liberties inevitably follows. We all know how +Nazi Germany willingly, and by writ of law, denied "der Juden" of their +right to own property, engage in commerce, and travel freely. Even more +chilling is the United States' history of doing precisely the same to +Japanese-Americans for the duration of World War II. In both cases, these +inhumane measures were taken not only after a period of fervent +propaganda, but in the name of National Security. + +And here we are in 1998. We have witnessed a crackdown on the hacking +community precipitated not by "digital Pearl Harbor[1]," but by ignorance +of the American government and a simple error in a piece of AT&T code[2]. +Kevin Mitnick still awaits trial three years after his arrest on charges +of "possession of unauthorized access devices, computer fraud, causing +damage to computers, wire fraud, and interception of wire or electronic +communications[3]," denied even so much as the use of a stand-alone laptop +by which he can coordinate his own defense. Attorney General Janet Reno +seeks $64 million dollars to start a "cybercrime center" under the +jurisdiction of the FBI[4]. + +None of this should come as a surprise. Even in ancient times, the +stranger was always perceived as greatest threat to any community[5]. In +this sense, we are perceived as particularly threatening strangers since +we have demonstrated time and again that we can better navigate the very +territory that the agencies of government, industry and education +constructed for their own use. + +The above is not an idle boast, nor is it made with malice or vanity. The +fact of the matter is that we, a relatively disorganized collective of +outsiders, can and have mastered a highly complex network of systems +designed, created and implemented by some of the greatest technical minds +this century has seen. How could that *not* be unnerving to the +institutions that consider themselves to be the be-all and end-all of +technological innovation? + +So where do we go from here? Surely it would seem that America's +government, universities and industry must understand that their notions +of computer security are sorely lacking. Even so, we cannot expect them +to embrace our efforts. We are in their disfavor entirely because we, in +no uncertain or delicate terms, mercilessly expose their weaknesses. As a +result, they respond in kind by legislating against the very tools on +which we rely to safeguard our way of life. In the arena of cryptography +alone, laws have been written on the presumption that every person is +guilty until proven innocent. "After all," the government reasons, "why +would someone need unbreakable cryptography unless they had something to +hide?" + +Judging from history, this conflict could continue in perpetuity: a +constant struggle with no resolution, and no decisive victory for either +side. Yet there is a precedent on which an armistice could be reached. +Through no accident, that precedent is what brought us all together in the +first place. + +The precedent is the Internet. + +Those who have been around long enough will remember that the Internet was +not borne of mutual admiration, but mutual distrust. (Let us remember +that the 1960s were not a time when universities were particularly fond of +the military and the military was not particularly willing to open up to +anyone.) Even so, all participants agreed to set aside their +long-standing suspicions for the moment in order to pursue a higher goal. +In doing so, we -- the hacker community -- have been afforded the +opportunity to learn more than we would have been otherwise able. We +cannot ignore this basic fact. + +This is not to say that the hacker community should be obliged to extend +the olive branch. We have done nothing more than followed our respective +curiosities as the human animal is obligated by its own intellect. We +were presented with a new technology and, just as we began to explore it, +were shackled with nonsensical arbitrary rules which were impossible to +follow in the face of a compelling mystery. And in our disobedience, we +have literally been the embodiment of the convictions that brought forth +the Declaration of Independence over 220 years ago. + +Now more than ever, it is obvious that the United States' government, +industry and universities could richly benefit from an alliance with us. +An open, nonjudgmental dialogue via the Internet would be a most fitting +start to such an alliance. Relaxation and eventual eradication of the +stranglehold that the government presently has on cryptography (along with +the abandonment of key escrow and cryptography backdoors) would certainly +be welcomed as a sign of good faith as well. From there, the +possibilities could well be endless. + +Now is the time for the private and public sectors of the United States to +look beyond their own shortcomings; specifically, their arrogance about +their own idea of security and their misgivings about those who can so +easily defeat it. Ultimately, they must understand that this approach is +the only one by which truly succeed in improving their security and our +technological way of life. + +Yet if they continue cling to their outdated notions of security through +obscurity; if they continue to criminalize the same unorthodox approaches +that historically made the United States a global superpower; if they +unthinkingly continue on their folly that they should be the de facto +authority on technology, I need only remind them of this: + +There are over ten thousand ways to acquire root access on a server. + +I know less than five hundred. + +I need only one. + + +Cancer Omega +--------------------------------------------------------------------- + +NOTES: + +[1] This phrase, to the best of my knowledge, was originally coined + by Winn Schwartau in his book, "Information Warfare." + +[2] The January 1990 failure of AT&T long distance systems was + originally believed by many to be the product of an attack + carried out by malicious hackers. + +[3] Information courtesy of http://www.kevinmitnick.com. + +[4] The Nando Times, February 27, 1998 (http://www.nando.net). + +[5] Schmookler, Andrew B., "The Parable of the Tribes: The Problem + of Power in Social Evolution," Berkeley, 1984. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0502.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0502.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8add40aa --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0502.txt @@ -0,0 +1,103 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Don't Give a Shit + ----------------- + +Have you ever had a day when you have woken up only to look around, and +think about the night before, and realize something? + +Waking up this morning, getting out of bed, and looking around my room, I +realized something about myself, or my own life. That realization is not +anything I wanted to realize, though I doubt most realization are ... that +is what makes them so surprising or clarifying at times. + +A few of months ago I told someone exactly how I felt towards them, and +since then things have been so weird. It was not until the last several +days, (or has it already been a couple of weeks?) things have not even been +close to the same. + +We were becoming close friends, and both offered to be there for the other +when the other needed us. With my life being the way it has been, I have +tried to reach out to this person, and not just lean on them, since they +probably cannot deal with just me pouring things out to them. As time has +passed though, things have seemed to become so swirly and no longer make +much sense - except that this person just does not give a shit about me. + +Several months ago, I was hurt very badly and deeply by someone, and +because of everything that person and I had been through, I did not want to +just be a mega-bitch to them and screw up everything. They had meant so +much to me. One day when I was out in a store with someone, I saw a ring. +It was a silver and gold ring that had five hearts on it. Every other heart +was turned the opposite way. I decided to buy and wear this ring everyday, +to help remind me to have a heart in dealing with him and others. It would +have been so much easier for me to crawl away and avoid others, and close +myself off to those very things that were causing me to take so much time +and think things through and hurt...the feelings. I knew though that if I +did that, I would just end up right back where I had started from a half of +a year previous to that, so I decided I needed to hold on to what was left +of my heart. + +Everyday I wore the ring, and every time I looked at it, I remembered. + +Recently, I was in the state that the person lived in. It turned out once +again the person was "too busy" to even go the couple of hours to see me, +so instead I hung out with a couple of my friends that I have had for the +last several years. On the morning I left the hotel, and was a half of an +hour away, I realized that I had left my heart ring on the counter in the +first floor bathroom. + +My heart ring was gone. Now there is nothing for me to wear everyday, and +always remember to keep a heart, even when I did not want to. + +Was it just irony, symbolism or a fluke that I forgot my ring? + +That is something I am still trying to figure out. As the couple of days +have passed, I find myself repeatedly reaching for a ring that is no longer +there. Is it because the person is no longer in my life? Is it more than +that? Or does it just mean that I should go out and get another ring? + +Believe it or not, there are two people that this has been written about, +and I fear they are headed for the same result within my life. I do not +want that, but how can you stop a speeding bullet when it is aimed right +for you, and you cannot move, and have nothing to protect yourself? + + +Insecurity, irony, symbolism, fate; what is the difference between all of +these? Is it just easier to chalk something up to fate, instead of +realizing that we have something lacking in our lives? + +If they did care about me, and no longer give a shit, why should I want +them in my life anymore? + +Maybe it is time, that I just don't give a shit. + + +- Kamira + +April 9, 1998 +kami@sekurity.org + +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0503.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0503.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..582eccdc --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0503.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Lost + ---- + +The last sixteen months have been pretty tough for me. I know there +are many people worse off and hell, who am I to complain considering +I still have a lot to be thankful for. So, if you don't want to read +another file on self pity then move on out of here. + +Back in October/November 1996 I was approaching my third year of my +first real job out of college. A job which took me nine months of +looking to get-1993 was not a good time to be in the job market +especially for an engineer in Florida. + +That October I was recently put on a new project after the previous +ones more or less fizzled out. I enjoyed working but was feeling +some frustration because promises of a move were being made but +little was being done. Typical shit at our company. More and more +people were being crammed into already overcrowded space, it was +getting too noisy to work productively and hell the new commute would +shorten my drive by thirty minutes each way. Fuck, I couldn't wait. +Finally when everything was set (new place was ready to move into) +the company continued to do their best to stall. Some people started +to take a "fuck it" attitude and went on their merry way doing what +they were told even if they felt they should be doing something more +important. And of course then there were a bunch of other lame fucks +who just rode the wave hoping it wouldn't break. + +In November of 1996, one of my families cats went blind. Not long +after we ended up having to put him to sleep. On top of the dying +pet and deteriorating job situation my parents were in the process of +getting a divorce. In February 1997 a few of us moved into apartment +which added an additional 7 miles to my 25 mile commute. March, +April, and May passed and my hour commute was starting to get on my +nerves. Especially after the company delayed the move again an extra +few months. Always promising, never delivering--our new company +motto. Fuck em all, if we didn't move by June I had made up my mind +that I was going to start looking for another job. My only happiness +was my new 2-11pm shift which made the drive a hell of a lot easier +and the last several hours with no one around more enjoyable. + +We eventually moved in to the new place on June 1, 1997. But what +once was to be a move for the engineering department turned out to be +a move for the whole company. Course before the move half of the +company was laid off--not enough money, not enough room. Some very +good people were let go but I was "lucky" enough to survive the move. +My new commute of five miles lasted all of four weeks before I became +another causality. The rest of the company, except for a skeleton +crew, was laid off a week later. The company was considerate in +paying everyone for the time worked but most, if not all, lost their +vacation pay. So, after three and half years of working it was time +to begin another job search. + +This time around the job search only took two months. I saw +opportunity open its door so I took a chance and moved 3600 miles to +accept a new position in August 1997. Within the next four months my +family had another two pets die. Both of old age. All told that +makes three pets, one divorce, two moves and one job change in the +last year and a half. And with me working a contract job I'll be +hitting the pavement again in a couple months. The time off between +my last job was not very enjoyable. People asking me why I want to +move when good jobs are to be had "here." It was tough as hell +leaving that place behind me. Cheap rent, free food, no laundry, +little worries--who would want to move. I put a lot of though behind +it and it would have been very easy to chicken out or put off moving. +I almost didn't make it. + +When the job comes to an end this time I'll be taking a lot of time +off to find my way back on the road of life. Hopefully I'll be able +to enjoy the time without work. + +It takes strength to go all the way live, + +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0504.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0504.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..10c0d50e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0504.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + smart thinking + -------------- + + There's a little Voice, deep inside your head, that you know + very well. It tells you little things - like when not to + cross the street even though you should have enough time + on the walk signal to make it across. It tells you big things, + like when to say no to that nice enough guy who keeps asking + you out on a date. It's just that feeling, that intuition, + that tells you what is right and wrong for every nanosecond + of your existence. + + When you ignore it, shitty things happen. + + Sometimes the shit isn't so deep. Once, when I was waiting to + get on a plane to NY, an announcement burst over the PA. USAir + was offering cheaper rates to anyone who was willing to wait + for the next flight. My gut told me "take it." My family + disagreed. We spent the next few hours on the worst flight + of our lives, tossed around wildly in a thunderstorm. People + were screaming. My mother was worrying that she had forgotten + to sign their will. It was that bad. But all that really + happened was that we were scared. I wish I had listened to + the Voice, though. Now it takes heavy drugs and minor amounts + of alcohol to even get me to consider getting on an airplane. + Live and learn, right? + + Sometimes the shit is deeper. Two times in my life I have + been in love - real love, not little puppy dog crap. In both + cases, I was really too young to do the right things and make + a happy ending. In both cases, I was given an opportunity + to try again, with more experience and less bullshit. But my + voice kept telling me that it simply would not work, that + I would end up getting hurt somehow. Blindly I ignored my + gut and rambled on, trying desperately to recapture what I had + lost through my own stupidity and childishness, thinking that + I could do it over, and better this time. As always, the Voice + was right. It knew before I did that I was being stupid. In + both cases, of course, I ended up getting cut. Deep. Now I know. + In matters of love, listen to the Voice. + + Smart thinking is listening to your Voice. Whether that means + going to one college instead of another, taking a different + route home, or moving to California instead of New York, + ultimately, your Voice helps you make decisions about your + life that might mean the difference between happiness + and despair. Alone as we all are, we have our inner selves + that speak to and through us. If you pay attention, you might + learn something about loving yourself, and doing the right + thing, no matter how annoying or terrifying that path might + be. + + I know I'll ignore the Voice, off and on. We all do. + And every time I'll look back, and remember that it was there, + and know that I should have listened. Maybe getting older and + wiser means nothing more than having a louder Voice. I just wish + mine would scream instead of whisper. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0505.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0505.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ceee9f03 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0505.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Something Original + ------------------ + +He always wanted to make a mark on the world. To affect people. Somehow +he always managed to cheer me up when I was feeling blue. In the end, that +wasn't enough. + +My brother and I grew up in the barrio, behind the train station. I +remember when we used to put quarters on the tracks and watch the iron +horses chasing each other over the tracks, pounding the coins into flattened +disks of metal. A fortune in silver. He poked a hole in one and made an +amulet once. + +Miguel kept me out of trouble in those days. Our mother put the fear of God +into him in that respect. I was to go nowhere without his watchful eye until +I was old enough to lift the groceries by myself, at which time I was deemed +"old enough" to watch out for myself. But he kept watching over me anyway, +my guardian angel. We got along better than most brothers, though we did +have our share of fights. Little things. Insignificant. Pointless. + +Our mother was so proud. She moved here from Mexico, working hard to support +us. She would never let anyone make her feel small, even though she had no +schooling. She could speak little English, but she was an intelligent woman. +When we did poorly in school she would scold us, and when we did well, +praise us. She always stressed the importance of learning English well so +that people would not look down on us or think we were stupid. Miguel and I +studied hard and learned. + +I didn't know why, but Miguel became more and more quiet through the years. +He studied harder and kept up with all of his work outside of school, but he +became more serious about things. He became more critical of himself. It was +a stressful time for us all because of it, but he pulled through. He seemed +happier and more lighthearted as his high school graduation approached. + +On the morning of his graduation, our mother kissed Miguel and told him how +very proud of him she was. She bundled us into the car to go to the +ceremony, and he surprised me by letting me sit in the front. He sat stiffly +in the back seat but grinned as if he had a secret. + +At the concert hall where the ceremony was to occur, we parted: Miguel with +the rest of his graduating class, and we in the rows behind. I heard the +students joking, laughing, asking each other, "What are YOU going to do on +stage?" The school filmed every graduation and every year someone had to do +something completely crazy on tape. It was a contest. + +They still talk about it to this day. + +He stood and walked forward in the line of graduates. When he was almost due +to step up on the stage, he looked back at us and I was surprised to see +tears standing in his eyes, where before he had seemed so carefree. When +they called his name he stepped up, turned to the camera, and reached into +his black graduate's gown. + +I think everyone was too shocked to move or to try to stop him when he +pulled out the sawed-off shotgun and put the barrel under his chin. I was. +I couldn't move, though every cell in my body was screaming at me to run to +him, to hug him to me and tell him it would be OK, that he didn't have to +do this. + +He looked at us and said he loved us. + +And said goodbye. + + +-steve + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0506.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0506.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0fe8d43e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0506.txt @@ -0,0 +1,865 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + his plan, part ii + ----------------- + + one + +sometimes the state of brilliance can easily be mistaken for the state of +madness. then again, you could just be a lonely. i find myself border +lining in the boat most of the time. sometimes i just want to sit in the +dark and let good ol' donizetti play the most comprehensible music to the +mood. sometimes i just want to drink. either way both events lead to the +same conclusion. they are just something to do to pass time, cuz hey, being +an alcoholic can pass the time pretty fast, specially when you have nothing +better to do with it. + +getting up from the couch i could hear the tears in the music. i pour +myself another glass of wine, stand in front of the glass sliding door, and +look up at the stars. i hold the glass up to the moon to make a toast. +"well loui, it could be worse, i could be depressed." taking a big gulp i +set my drink down and decide now would be a good time for a long walk. +what else is a good walk for but to change your life. a person's life can +change in one second. how can you judge someone when there are more than 86 +thousand seconds in a day. who knows what is going to happen next. well, +maybe the world isn't that chaotic, but my life sure is, or maybe it was +just the fresh air. + +usually i tend to avoid major streets when i take a walk, you never know +what kind of crazy person is going to enter your life. however, it was +that kind of randomness that i was looking for. it was that same +randomness that i found, or maybe it found me. while taking my thoughts +down broadway i heard a noise down a dark alley. suddenly a man walked out +from the shadow. i had never seen a human in such horrible conditions +before. you could smell him standing ten feet away. he walked right up to +me, and stared into my eyes. his eyes glowed a cold blue that i had never +seen before. he had a gold tattoo on his right temple. at first i was +scared, then he motioned to talk. + +"so gabriel, it is true, you are still working for him." he sort of +laughed under his breath and turned to walk back into the alley. + +my fear turned to confusion, but before i could stop him to ask how he +knew my name, or what he meant, i heard a car honk. i turned around to see +that a really nice red bmw convertible had pulled up next to me. i don't +know much about cars so 'really nice' is about the best that i can explain +it, i expected james bond to get out. the passenger side window rolled +down and i heard a sweet voice yell out to me, "hey! do you know how to +get to the brown palace hotel?" well of course i did, its that brown +triangle building downtown that charges anywhere from $200 to $800 a +night. i guess that would explain the beamer. + +"just take this all the way to 18th ave. turn left and take 18th until you +get to this funky intersection. you'll want to take the treemont route so +keep to the left side of the street, you don't want to turn too far to the +left or you will end up back on broadway again. anyway, right after the +funky turn you will want to be in the left most lane because the brown +palace is right there, just pull up and let the valet take care of you." i +don't know if she was confused or looking for a date because she looked +really lost in what i just said. + +"uumm.." was all she had to say about that. of course, if you're looking +for a date you usually don't pick up some weirdo walking down broadway in +your bmw. it was probably the suite, drives chicks wild. i offered myself +to her in the most innocent way i could muster up. + +"look, i'm not on my way anywhere, i am just out here passing time. i could +ride with you if you want? so you don't get lost." i felt like some reject +from pretty women. + +"how would you get home?" she asked, as if almost concerned. + +"well, i am out for a walk." not trying to be a bit witty, but it made her +laugh anyway. + +"ok, hop in." she sounded like a school girl. i didn't expect much of a +sophisticated conversation on the way there, that's ok, because i'm not a +sophisticated guy anyway. + +"so what takes you to the brown palace hotel? business or pleasure?" i +tried to make small talk, even though i hate it. + +"does it have to be one or the other?" + +"no, it could be both." + +i waited a few minutes for a reply when i noticed i had an enormous +headache, you've got to love wine. looking around the car i ask if she had +any aspirin i could take. + +"been drinking too much?" she asked. + +"there is no such thing as drinking too much." i replied, not caring what +she thought about it. she pointed to the glove box. i opened it up, pushed +the gun aside and grabbed what looked to be the aspirin. i popped a couple +in my mouth and looked around for something to drink. i should have thought +about that before i took the aspirin. + +"i can't dry swallow pills, do you have something i can wash these down +with." i asked. + +"the only thing to drink in this car is right behind your seat." she said +almost laughing. i saw the irony as i glazed at the half empty bottle of +one hundred proof absolute vodka. + +"oh well." i thought as i downed the pills with a gulp of one of my most +favorite drinks, vodka straight. i was either going to get more drunk and +not notice the headache, or the pills were strong enough to work. i +laughed at that thought. i would have been fine except all of the sudden +the car started spinning around and i could hear a man laughing in my mind. +i was starting to loose reality again, right in front of this woman. + +"whoa, those are some pills." i said, trying to see if she would tell me +they were not aspirin but some sort of drug that would explain my current +state. + +"don't worry, you can deal with that where we're going. just keep +conscience, because you know where we are going." she said with a serious +tone in her voice. although i had no idea what she was talking about. + +"oh shit, you wanted to turn two blocks back." now realizing where we were. +"it's ok, just turn left here." after another, and then a right we were at +the hotel. i had seen the brown palace before, and just about everyone in +denver has heard about it. anyone who is anyone stays at the brown palace +hotel. the president has his own suite in it. i stumbled out of the car +and managed to keep my ground. the fresh air did me good. i finally got my +first look at this woman who i have been talking to for the last twenty +minutes. my god was she beautiful. she had on this long dark overcoat, big +and clothy. something you would see gillian anderson wear in the x-files. +she had this long dark hair and these pulsating blue eyes. they scared me +at first glance. it looked as though she could see into my soul. maybe that +is why she stopped for me. she had a small body and a face that could make +any person fall in love with her. + +"so what's your name anyway?" i asked, expecting aphrodite as an answer. + +"lilith." she replied, giving me a smile. + +"well, lilith, i must begin my walk home now. thank you for bringing some +excitement into my otherwise dull life." i said, hoping she would invite me +to where ever she was going. + +"you can't leave me yet gabriel, we have business to attend to." and her +plan unfolded. + +"we have business? how do you know my name?" as i almost fell to the ground. + +"you told me in the car. look, this will all be clear to you soon." she +began walking into the building. funny, i don't remember mentioning my name +in the car. then again i was kind of fucked up. then again i am always +fucked up. as i walked into the hotel for the first time i couldn't +actually see anyone. i am sure there were people around me, but i couldn't +see anyone but her. she walked up to a counter, which i assumed was for +checking in, and started a conversation with thin air. everything seemed +blurry and i could feel myself losing balance. + +"my god." i could hardly talk. she looked at me, smiled, and then began +walking off towards an elevator. i caught up to her as she darted inside +one. i looked at her and stared hard upon her form. + +"i can barely stand, what were in those pills?" i questioned, beginning to +loose conscience. + +"only what you needed in them." she replied, "now stop thinking and just +let life and death take over." the elevator stopped, and so did my thought +process. i began mumbling something about trust. i don't know what the hell +i was talking about. she knocked on a room, i couldn't even read the +number. some indian opened the door and we walked into a cloud of smoke. +there were five native americans sitting in a circle on the floor. they had +lit a fire in the middle of the room, i couldn't figure out what in the +hell was going on. i felt something cold grab my shoulder and i spun around. + +"the tooth brush is in the back of my car, where the rest of my world +belongs." said an old man with no teeth. "what is this, dali's playground?" +i thought to myself, as one of the indians sitting on the floor got up, +opened his head and removed a saw. + +"it's time to cut the bullshit don't you think?" he said as everyone began +to laugh. i couldn't find lilith anyway in the room. just then i squeezed +my eyelids shut and started chanting. + +"these drugs are quick, these drugs are quick, these drugs are quick, these +drugs are quick, this isn't happening!!" i then snapped my eyes open as +lilith stood in front of me. + +"are you ok?" she asked, as if everything i just saw was in my mind. we +walked over to a couch and sat down. + +"yes, i suppose i am." i replied. + +"yes, as long as the man with the saw doesn't get you." she said with a +grin. suddenly i had complete control of my senses back. i could see and +perceive everything as is. however my reasoning was shot. i would have done +anything right then, all someone had to do was ask me. + +"i brought you here because i need you to help me do something." she said, +trying to sound reasonable. as if trying to sell me something, i laughed on +the inside, knowing i would do anything for her. + +"i need to talk to someone, i need to ask them to do something very +important, and i need your help to do it." she kept trying to explain. + +"yeah sure, whatever... i mean, anything." i caught myself trying to not be +rude. which, considering the situation i was in, was silly as i should have +been stark raving mad. + +"i need you to kill me. then in twenty minutes i need you to bring me back +to life." she made this request sound as though she wanted me to call her a +cab. + +"ok, what do you need me to do?" i was a little confused as to how she was +planning on doing this. + +"i need you to inject this drug into me, in thirty seconds it will kill +me." she pulled a syringe out of a little leather pouch i was unaware of +until this moment. "then, in exactly twenty minutes i need you to inject me +with this drug." she held up a different syringe. + +"ok." was the only word i could seem to conjugate. + +"i knew you would be cooperative." she smiled and laid back. i took the +syringe and injected the fluid just below her inner elbow. "thank you." she +said "see you in twenty minutes." she winked at me, closed her eyes and +slipped into the darkness. i knew nothing of where she was going. + +looking over the leather pouch i watched the digital clock spin down. +nineteen minutes to go. i picked up a syringe that looked identical to the +one i just injected in her. the fluid was a light shade of red. the stuff +used to bring her back was a dark orange. it is funny sometimes, when you +look at your life. one minute you are drinking wine alone in your house, +the next thing you know you are sitting over some woman who you just +killed. life is odd when you want it to be. + +i looked over the length of the needle as i wondered who in the hell +created the stuff. this was supernatural and science fiction rolled up into +one bizarre walk in the night. + +being completely out of my mind i did something anyone completely out of +their mind would have done. i looked at the timer which now read zero +minutes remaining, and freaked out. i wasn't paying attention and had no +idea how long it had been on zero. wasting no time i took the other needle +and stuck it into her, right next to where the other one has gone in. i +waited for five minutes for her to recover. i kept smacking her on the face +hoping she would come back. however it was no use, she was dead, and as far +as anyone knew, i was the one who killed her. how could i ever explain +this to anyone? would anyone believe me? maybe i could just leave her here +and never be suspected. maybe no one saw me come in with her. i went over +many scenarios in my head on how i could get out of this situation. then it +accord to me. at the time it seemed quite reasonable, however any sane +person would have struck me down just for the thought. + +i picked up the other red syringe. i glanced at it, and with a witty side +remark said "bottoms up." as i stuck the needle deep into my left arm. i +drained all of the fluid into my body and began to feel a relaxation that i +had never before felt. i think i even pissed my pants before all the lights +went out. + + two + +i woke up in a strange place. that is the best that anyone could describe +it. everything seemed dark, i could barely see ten feet in front of me. +however anytime i got close to something, a wall, or a person, they would +be perfectly visible to me. as if i had a light all around me. i could see +its effects, but could not the source. it was cold as well. not so cold +that i thought i might freeze to death, and i couldn't see my own breath, +but it was bitter cold, just enough to get to you. + +i walked up to the first person i could find and asked him where i was. +his only reply was the most horrific laugh i have ever heard. after a few +minutes of waiting for him to stop laughing i began to walk away. i was +about five feet away from him and i could barely hear his laugh anymore, +even though i could see him still laughing like mad, my perception of him +dimmed down. the same thing that would happen the farther you get from +someone in any situation. however here, wherever i was, my senses we at an +all time low, or crippled somehow. + +i walked around for about five minutes before i found any structure at all, +it happened to be a wall. i followed its course as it led me to a gate. it +was made entirely of metal, and was cold to the touch. it stretched up past +my vision. i could not tell if it was locked, rusted, or just jammed but it +would not open. i pounded fiercely on it as i screamed to get someone's +attention. + +"where am i?" i screamed at the top of my lungs. + +"in the land of infinity." said a man with an evil grin across his face. + +"the land of infinity? where is that?" i said calming down. + +"do you remember the last thing that you did?" he said, almost chuckling in +his words. + +"yes, i talked to this strange person who laughed at me." + +"no, no. the last thing you did before you got here? can you remember that." + +"no, i can't. well, i remember going out for a walk, then i seem to have +woken up here." + +"did you in fact wake up here?" he just stood there with the biggest grin +i had ever seen. + +"yes." + +"then how do you suppose you got here, eh?" + +"i don't know!" i started yelling at the man, "i don't even know where the +hell i am, is this a dream?" + +"are you asleep?" + +"i don't know!" i began to get really annoyed, "why won't you just tell me +where i am?" i continued to yell. + +"think larger gabriel," another voice surrounded the dark. "think of the +moment which transpired exactly before you were here." i could here him, +but i couldn't see anyone else. + +"who are you, where are we, how do you know who i am?" i yelled, not easing +the anger in my voice. + +"calm down, one question at a time, all will become clear to you. after +all, we have eternity to talk about it." he found humor in his words as he +giggled upon them. he stood in front of me wearing all black. i couldn't +differentiate his outfit with the surrounding darkness. he looked like a +floating head and hands. + +"who are you?" i began, in a calm manner. + +"actually, i will answer your last question first. after all it is not +everyday we get regular celebrities down here." he said, as though i should +already know the answer to his question. + +"celebrities? what do you mean?" + +"don't try and be coy with me gabriel, you can't play mind games like i can." + +"what are you talking about? why won't anyone just give me a straight +answer around here?" i started to get annoyed again. + +"do you really not know? what could have happened to you that would have +you end up here? what could have happened to you to make you forget +everything that has happened over the last eon?" he asked with a confused +look upon his face. + +"where am i? just answer me that." + +"why, this is aussou, the third level of hell, the bottomless pit. here we +are bound by chains of darkness. placed here by god himself. or," he let +out a quick laugh, "as jude said, we are bound beneath the darkness in +everlasting chains." he then let out a sigh, "do you not recognize?" + +"hell? did i die? this doesn't look like hell, where is all the fire, +where are the demons with pitchforks and eternal burning souls?" he began +to laugh as i said this. + +"through that gate if you really want to know. however that gate won't open +until the fifth trumpet sounds. don't you read the bible anymore?" + +"no, i have always had a phobia to religion. i could never explain it, +but i never really thought much about it though, i always just kept to +myself." + +"wow, i wonder what you did to get this whacked up." + +"what do you mean?" + +"do you still not know who you are? can you not remember the conversations +we've had? all the so called great things you have done for him and his +plan?" + +"i know who i am, but i don't know what you are talking about." + +"you are gabriel, the archangel. only surpassed in rank by micheal." + +"archangel? if that is true then how come i can't remember all these things +you say?" + +"that is one question i cannot answer. none of the rest of us experienced +any sort of memory loss when being sent here. i guess you will just have to +wait until we get out of here." + +"when will that be?" + +"you really should have read the bible. unfortunately we don't have a copy +down here, not like anyone would read it anyway. like i said, when the +fifth trumpet sounds a dot of light will descend from heaven and unlock the +gate to the bottomless pit. we will charge out from the pit in the shape of +the locusts who are like horses prepared for battle. abaddon will come out +of the pit and strike down three of the seven horns of the beast. he will +then stand larger than any other horn and raise up three new horns to take +there place, and so on and so forth. any of this sounding familiar to you?" + +"none of it. however that still does not answer my question. when is the +fifth trumpet going to sound, or whatever it is that needs to happen?" + +"right after the sounding of the forth trumpet." he laughed. + +"well when the hell is that?" + +"i don't know!" he yelled. "do you think any of us actually understand his +plan? do you think any of us know what is going to happen and when? the +bible isn't a list of detailed instructions for what is going to happen. it +is a guide, it is supposed to give us a general idea of what has happened +and what is going to happen. he gave those humans just enough evidence to +let them believe in him, without giving anything away. we aren't meant to +understand these things, we are meant to carry them out. do you understand?" + +"no, but i don't think that matters does it?" + +"not really." + +"well, who are you then, and what exactly is this place? i have never heard +of the third level of hell, i didn't know hell had levels." + +"i am ezeqeel, he who teaches the knowledge of the clouds. i'm am also the +only angel here who will talk to you." + +"you're an angel? what are you doing in hell if you're an angel?" + +"this is abussou. this is where god sent the fallen angels when we betrayed +him by taking humans as our wives. we sinned against him, we sinned against +heaven. that was the first time we realized that nothing escapes him, that +was the first time we got a real glimpse at his plan." + +"you mean god?" + +"now you're catching on." + +"let me get this straight. so you're telling me, that i have died and gone +to the third level of hell, which is a bottomless pit where fallen angles +are bound by chains of darkness, and i cannot leave until the fifth trumpet +sounds?" + +"yes." + +"on top of all that, i am some sort of archangel?" + +"yes." + +"as well, you have no idea why i don't know any of this." + +"that pretty much sums it up." + +"ok, then i only have one thing to say. who the fuck are you, you sick ass +fucking weirdo crazy. where hell am i, why have you brought me here, take +me home right the fuck now." i was screaming at the top of my lungs. + +he just looked down and sighed. looking up i could see a tear roll down his +face "i wish i could give you what you want, you'll get used to it here, we +all did." with that he quickly vanished. + +i hollered out for someone to talk to me. i began to bang on the metal +gate, trying desperately to get it to open. nothing happened, nothing at +all. i sat down and leaned against the gate and began to cry. i put my +hands over my eyes and sobbed. + + three + +i woke up in a garden. the most beautiful thing i have ever seen. +everything was too green, the air was too fresh. there was no one anywhere +i could see. the only thing man made i could find was a cement path going +off as far as my eye could see. here my perceptions where at an all time +high. i could see father than ever before, i could smell flowers 20 feet +away, i could hear birds chirping a mile away. it was the most exhilarating +experience i have ever felt. i shouted out, "is anyone here?" + +"i'm here." sounded that sweet voice i heard not too long ago. i turned +around and saw lilith standing behind a tree. + +"lilith, i am glad to see you." + +"what happened to you?" she said with a smile. + +"i was looking at those syringes, examining them, pondering their existence +and creation. i looked down and noticed the counter had hit zero. i +panicked and tried to bring you back to life but you never came back. i +don't know how long the timer had been on zero, so i panicked some more and +decided the most reasonable course of action would be to kill myself." i +found it weird that i knew all this. since a few moments ago when i was at +that other place i couldn't remember any of it. + +"that wasn't reasoning, you were told to kill yourself." she looked around, +concerned, as if we were being watched. "look, you did the right thing, +don't worry about it. that orange stuff was just kool aid, i never said it +would bring me back to life, i just said you needed to inject it into me." +she grinned as though i would find humor in her words. + +"you mean, i killed myself for your game? how do i go back?" + +"you don't get it yet gabriel. you aren't going back, you are the person i +needed to talk to, however i couldn't talk to you on earth because you +would have thought i was crazy if i explain what i needed you to help me +with. besides, you couldn't help me on earth anyway." for some reason, i +wanted to be mad at her, it felt like a natural thing to do, but i +couldn't. something was holding back my anger. + +"could you please explain to me what is going on here? after all i did die +for you." i couldn't seem to think one wrong thought. everything was good, +everything was right. it wasn't that the grass was greener, it was that i +was greener. + +"come, walk with me gabriel. i will tell you as much as i can." we began +walking down the cement path towards what looked to be a giant city. i +could not see the city before we had stepped on to the path, and the +garden that was there, was now gone. nothing but rolling green fields on +either side of me. behind me the path went on forever. + +"you see," she continued "i am on sort of a covert operation." she said, as +she waited for a response. + +"ok." was my response. + +"well." she was reluctant to go on. "do you even know who you are?" she had +stopped and looked right at me, as though there was no way for her to +explain what was going on. + +"i am gabriel. this angel in hell told me i am, or was, an archangel. +although i don't know anything about it." + +"you must have talked to ezeqeel." + +"you know him?" + +"everyone knows ezeqeel. he used to one of his best angels. that was until +him and the other earthly angels fell." + +"yah, he mentioned that they took humans as wives or something." + +"pour ezeqeel, stuck in abussou and he doesn't even know the scope of what +had happened to them." + +"what do you mean?" + +"for the most part he was right, the angels fell because they took humans +for their wives and copulated with them. however you need to understand why +they were persuaded to do it in the first place. you have to understand +what it is to fall from his glory. being in god's light is the most +wonderful thing in existence. each one of them knew that if they betrayed +him they would never see that light again. of course they thought god would +just abandon them, they had no idea they would feel his wrath. do you know +what it is like when someone crosses you? the anger you can feel, the rage +that possesses you? imagine next that you have the power of god. what would +you do to the ones who cross you? ban them for eons in the third level of +hell maybe? no one even knew what the third level of hell was until that +happened." she paused for a moment. + +"this is all very entertaining, but you were about to explain why he didn't +realize the scope of what had happened." + +"yes, well, it wasn't their fault you see. they were tricked and lead into +their situation. loui and i ha--" i started laughing. "what is it?" + +"nothing really, it's just that when i was a child i had an imaginary +friend named loui. when i was 12 he said that he would always be looking +down at me from the moon, and then i never saw him again." + +"you speak of the same person i just mentioned. loui is just what his close +friends call him, everyone else calls him lucifer." + +"you mean my imaginary friend for six years of my life was actually the +devil?" i said with some surprise. + +"yes, let me explain. loui and i had tricked the fallen angels into doing +what they did. they had no idea where it would take them." + +"but why?" + +"like i said, we didn't know what was in the third level of hell, all we +knew is that is where he would send them. so we had to play our part in his +plan to find this out." + +"when i was down there they said that there was no way to get out, how did +i end up here?" + +"who has access to all of hell? loui got you out of hell and i got you into +heaven." + +"so this is heaven, but why?" + +"i told you already, we need your help." + +"what makes you think i will help you?" + +"gabriel, ezeqeel was right, you are an archangel, but you don't remember +any of that. do you have any idea why you ended up in abussou after you +killed yourself?" + +"no, not really." + +"try and put it together, that is where the fallen angels are sent." + +"you are telling me that i am a fallen angel?" + +"yes." + +"do you know what happened to me?" + +"no, as far as we can tell micheal and god himself are the only ones that +know the full extent of what happened. all i can tell you is what we have +found out." + +"well, what have you found out?" + +"something happened to you, so god turned you into a human. at the end of +your life you were to be sent to the bottomless pit with the rest of the +fallen ones. we have no idea why you were made human first, but we think +this is why you can't remember anything. humans cannot remember anything +about this existence once they are born. this is all i know." the city was +approaching quickly. + +"so you think i will help you because i am a fallen angel, if i betrayed +god once, then i will do it again, is that it?" + +"you never miss a thing." + +"i don't know, this feels good. i didn't like hell, i didn't like being +there. here though, everything is wonderful, everything is alive and real." + +"it gets dull after a while." she smirked. + +"is that why you fell?" + +"do you even know who i am?" + +"you're lilith." + +"does that mean anything to you?" + +"no." + +"i am lilith, demon of lust. i was adam's first wife, before eve. i was +created by god from his imagination, just as man was. i was created with +flaws. i guess you could say i was the first nymphomaniac. i was a power +hungry beast of lust and passion. god could not control me so he expelled +me from eden and that is when i met loui for the first time. god decided he +wanted woman to be more like man, so he created eve from adam. this was his +biggest mistake. he had us right the first time, he should have just +accepted our nature. inside each female lies lilith, it is who we are. +being created from man just masked it a little. eve was our first plot +together. it was much more easy to persuade her than i had thought." + +"what was your idea?" + +"to get eve to eat the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge. +certainly you know that much about the bible." + +"yes, i heard about it." + +"of course. you do have to remember that loui is an angel. he may be +ha-satan, the devil, lord of all evil, but he is still an angel. angels +aren't exactly the most creative of beings. they blindly follow god. loui +was the first angel to show some sort of self thought." + +"thanks a lot." + +"in case you forgot you became human, you think like they do. you may still +be an archangel, but you have all the spark of humanity in you." we were at +the city now. "we're here. are you going to help me?" + +i was reluctant to respond. "i just don't know." + +"you have no idea what is going on here gabriel. all i can do is ensure +that it will be worth it for you to help us." she had moved close to me, +and gave me a look of absolute sexual intention. + +"well, in that case, why not." + + four + +my first look at the city was one of wonder. it was like ancient greeks, +meet krypton. i halfway expected superman and hercules to drop by. the +first thing i noticed was a very sad looking man sitting against a wall. + +"heaven has bums?" i said. + +"that is semjaza. he is a reminder to all angels of what will happen if you +fall." + +"he is a fallen angel?" + +"yes." + +"why isn't he in abussou." + +"in a way, abussou is in him. before the angels sinned against god, semjaza +knew that what they were doing was wrong. regardless of what we told them +he knew that they might get in trouble for sinning against god. he swore to +take all punishment for their actions. as he put it, he would take the +penalty of a great sin." + +"this is his punishment? it doesn't seem as bad as abussou." + +"not at first glance. god possessed his entity with guilt, remorse, and +sorrow. he has to spend eons thinking about, and feeling sorry for what he +did. imagine feeling so bad about doing something that you want to kill +yourself, but can't. this is his punishment, every second of his existence. +would you still prefer it over abussou?" + +"on second thought, no. anyway, what is it you need my help with." + +"we are on our greatest mission ever. loui and i know that abaddon is to be +released from abussou soon. the first trumpet is close to being sounded. it +is written that loui will end up persuading abaddon into his conquests. +abaddon with be sort of like the public relations for the devil. however, +we want an edge. we want to know what is going to happen before it does, we +want to know how to play our cards right so that we end up winning the +apocalypse, not yeshua." + +"how do you plan on doing that?" + +"we plan on stealing his plan." + +"his plan?" + +"everything that has happened, and is going to happen, is all part of god's +plan. nothing happens that he doesn't know about. we want to change this." + +"well, then how do you plan on stealing the plan? one would think it is +harder to get than all the gold from fort knox." + +"he keeps his plan in naon." + +"naon?" + +"the temple of god." + +"i see." + +"you are going to help me get into the temple so that i can look at the +plan. i will obtain it, then we will leave, and you will be rewarded to +stand by our side and help be victorious over god." + +"i am a fallen angel turned human, and you are a well known demon partner +of satan. how do exactly expect us to pull this off?" + +"i am not as well know as you think, and you have an advantage you didn't +catch earlier." + +"what advantage is that?" + +"no one knows you have fallen. we think micheal knows, but no one has seen +or heard from him since you were made a human. god doesn't come around here +much. he is too busy unfolding his plan, taking care of the humans. +everyone else thinks you are on some great mission of god, they don't even +know you became human. we will just waltz in there like nothing is nothing." + +"won't people want to know what has been going on? what do i tell them i +have been doing all this time?" + +"you have been gone longer at times. they have all existed for so long, +that 26 years doesn't seem like very long at all. if anything they are +going to wonder why you were gone for so short a period. besides, no one +here really wants to try and figure out his plan any more. they just +accept it and follow out his orders. a long time ago there was a rumor +that one of the archangels figured it all out, but it doesn't seem to be +true since none of you know." + +"we'll try it, but if it doesn't work i'm going to say you made me do it." +i chuckled, jokingly. + + five + +we entered naon and it was just as lilith said. a few angels looked at me, +but none of them even made an effort to speak to me. i guess after being +existing for so long, you run out of things to talk about. + +as far as naon goes, it was the most spectacular construction i have ever +seen. lilith called it the center of everything known. it was in the center +of the city, which was in the center of heaven, which was centered between +earth and hell, and in the center of naon, was his plan. + +we made our way to it with ease. once we got to the room there was a locked +door preventing us from getting in. + +"this is great, how are we supposed to get past that?" i asked. + +"you can open it. only archangels can open this door. just think about it +being open, and it will open." + +it seemed silly to me at the time, but i did it and sure enough the door +opened right up. + +"after you beautiful." i said with a smile. + +"at last, we finally have the advantage." she said with a giggling school +girl voice. she practically ran into the room. the room itself was +completely dark expect for a light shining on a book in the center of the +room. it was just as i imagined. not waiting any further i stepped into +the room. + +suddenly my head felt pounded on, like i was being filled with an eternity +of realization. i almost fell to the ground as it all hit me at once. i +remembered everything that i was, what had happened to me right before i +was turned into a human. i stepped back towards the door as i watched her +pick up the book. + +"this is it." she yelled as she picked up the book and opened it. a look of +confusion crossed her face as she looked through it. she flipped through +the entire book and looked up at me and yelled, "it is empty. this book is +full of blank pages." + +"what were you expecting lilith? you put it best when you said 'nothing +happens that he doesn't know about.'" she looked up at me with even more +confusion. + +"what do you mean?" + +"i am the archangel gabriel. do you think that i would fall so easily? we +do not blindly follow god. we do it because he is right, we do it because +he is perfect, we do it to stay in his light. this entire thing has been +part of his plan." + +"what for?" + +"for you lilith. you are right, abaddon is about to be released. sooner +than you think. the first trumpet is about to sound in just a few moments. +ha-satan will help him behind the scenes as was written. they will end up +at the apocalypse fighting against yeshua, and they will loose. they will +loose because of you. you were created for a reason lilith. god does not +make mistakes, that is what makes him god. you were designed for the soul +purpose of leading the adversary on for all this time. you were created to +influence him, to weed out the weak minded angels, to induce mankind with +free will. you were the catalyst, this is why you were created, with this +and no other purpose. you are no longer needed. lucifer will end this the +way it was meant to be." + +"you can't get rid of me." she screamed at me. + +"remember, only an archangel can open this door." and with that the door +was sealed, and lilith will now be trapped inside the center of naon for +eons. the last thing heard from her was a scream so loud every being in +heaven turned their eyes toward naon, just as the first trumpet sounded. + +"so it begins?" i heard a voice behind me. + +i turned around and paused for a moment, startled. "yes, it begins +michael. the final stages of his plan." + + + the end . rage-303 + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". 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All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0507.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0507.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..32048d08 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0507.txt @@ -0,0 +1,139 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + another day + ----------- + +i'm sitting at work. it's boring as shit today, and i can't wait to leave. +i'll go out dancing, or maybe go race my car and get some more tickets. + +7 hours to go. + +i haven't eaten in a week. every time i try to eat i feel like i'm going to +get sick. i've been living off of caffeine and nicotine for a week and it's +really starting to get to me. yesterday was a beautiful sunny day, the +first one in almost a month, so i figured today would be a great day to go +out, but that is never the case here. it is the first day of the rose +festival here in Portland, and all i can hope is that the weather will +clear up by the end of the night. now don't get me wrong, i love the rain, +but one day of sun in three and a half weeks of rain is just getting old. + +i'm sitting in my cubicle listening to a KNRK, a local radio station in +Portland. i don't have a radio so i'm forced to listen via real audio, and +it's actually not too bad over a t-1. i work tech support for a local ISP. +i have a great view of absolutely nothing from my window. my computer here +is running windows nt - i hate it! my start menu is on the left hand side +of my screen. i have three ssh windows open, three browsers (netscape for +your information), and real player. a stupid song just came on so i changed +it to KGON, another local radio station that audionet hosts. + +now i'm sitting here wondering why the hell i'm writing this in the first +place. my birthday was two days ago.. yippie. i usually go to hamburger +mary's on Wednesdays to watch south park, because my cable provider +doesn't carry it, but i forgot this week. i'm drinking a jolt and dr. +pepper right now. i think that i am smarter then everyone around me. even +if they know something that i don't, i can learn it in half of the time +that they did. lunch time is about 40 minutes away now. i think i'm going +to try and eat a bag of popcorn. + +i'm back from lunch and the popcorn was great, i felt no ill effects from +eating it. i'm now drinking some coffee and also have a can of dr. pepper. + +it amazes me how stupid some people are. i have actually had people call me +who could not figure out how to turn off their computer. why do these +people need a fucking computer so bad? if you want to talk to you daughter +in college, pick up the fucking phone. don't waste your money and my +patience by buying a computer! + +3 hours and 15 minutes to go. + +my favorite magazine _boot_ is changing their name to _maximum pc_. how +fucking lame can you get, _boot_ was a perfect name. + +like i said, i do tech support and we cover all different platforms. now it +occurs to me that apple and all of those proclaimed "mac addicts" claim +that the Mac OS is superior over windows because of how easy it is to use. +now if it's so fucking easy, then why are half of my tech calls mac calls +when they make up less then 10% of my customers? all of the fucking mac +users i get are the most rude, arrogant, clueless mother fuckers you could +imagine. i hate macintosh! + +2 and a half hours to go. + +god this day has gone by so slow, i think i'll go and take my last break. +yes, a cigarette sounds just dandy right now. there much better. + +2 hours and 20 minutes to go. + +i'm on the phone with a customer right now. god i hate stupid people, there +is just no excuse for being so damn stupid. i swear people call up because +they are getting an error, and once i think i have fixed the problem, and i +tell them to try and connect they say shit like "how do i do that?" i then +say something like "well how do you usually connect?" and of course get the +response "i don't know." i just don't understand how people can be so +fucking dumb. another one i get quite often is when people call up and tell +me that they can't connect, and they have no idea what the error was and +they didn't think that they would need to write it down. but they are not +the worst. the worst customer you can possibly get are the people who think +that they are computer experts, they try and go ahead of you, ask you "why" +on every thing you tell them to do. if these people are so fucking smart +then why the hell are they calling me. jesus! + +okay, sorry about that little rant. + +2 hours to go. + +i can't believe how long this day has been, i can now see the lights of the +ferris wheel out of my window. the wind is blowing so hard outside only two +people are on the ferris wheel. it looks like it's going to be a real +shitty night unless something changes real quick. + +45 minutes to go. + +the clock is ticking away slower and slower. right now i work until 9:30 +pm, and it's getting real old real quick. + +okay this is it 5 minutes to go. + +i only have to make it through 5 more minutes and it's the weekend. i'm +listening to a band called episode that has some real audio hosted off of +webtrips home page. not too bad. + +3 minutes. + +i really don't hate my job, it's actually pretty cool, i guess i just don't +feel like being here today. + +2 minutes. + +all i can do is hope that i don't get any more calls. + +1 minute. + +fuck it, i'm out of here. + + +darknyss + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0508.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0508.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1af5425d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0508.txt @@ -0,0 +1,70 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + dead man living + --------------- + +i looked around me and noticed that everything had slowed. the cars had +slowed, as had the people within them. the radio seemed quiet, the breeze +subdued. i looked across my right shoulder at the woman in the car next to +mine. her face was staring forward, frightened, as though the sights to her +left would scar her eyes forever. my car advanced forward in the queue. + +i looked across my left shoulder, out the open window. i saw a hand, an +arm, and a white sheet. + +the scene around this display was obscured by my focus. i heard no sound +from the sirens, nor from the screaming bodies milling about. this empty +shell on the ground was aside from the noise, the movement. peaceful, and +at rest amongst the chaos behind it. + +i had seen an empty shell before that night, but it had never triggered +such a response. i wasn't sad, really. i felt no more connected to this +shell than any of the others i had seen lying vacant before. i guess that +this was the first time i had the consciousness to recognize it. i was +alone, sitting in my car, hands cold on the wheel. i saw across my left +shoulder the contours of a body underneath a white cover. i saw stillness. +i saw a discarded vehicle. + +does the soul cast off the mind and the body, discarding them when it's had +enough? or can the body survive without the soul, the mind without the body? + +i want to know death well, even become friends. some people stop talking to +god, but who ever starts talking to death? death must be an entity like any +other, and must possess the same spite and jealousy. i want death to know +me. i want death to be my companion, not my shadow. + +people talk to god to find out what they are, and why. i don't need to know +what i am. i am, and that is enough. i want to know what i will be. + +with my right hand, i silenced the radio. with my right foot, i depressed +the gas pedal. i looked up at the sky, then to my left again. from that +point on, i looked forward. + +and i still do. + + +sarikei + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0509.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0509.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..182116ea --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0509.txt @@ -0,0 +1,266 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Becoming + -------- + + I could smell the bones on the wave of night, and I + shivered in gentle anticipation. I squinted into the + dark. The street was 2 o'clock empty, and the heels of + my boots clacked startlingly on the cracked asphalt, a + stacatto gunshot sound bouncing off of brick and glass. + My pace was brisk but my pose relaxed - just the way + I liked it. I clasped my hands loosely behind my back + and leaned into to my stride, pushing the momentum + of my gait, making myself New York City aerodynamic. + + Everything was the dimly lit bluish grey of early + nighttime film. I could hear the electricity buzzing + from the street lamps and watched my shadow undulate + as I passed the occasional lit window. I recalled + watching my first moving picture and chuckling at + the imprecisely timed lighting of the young victim's + bedroom after her curvaceous lips puckered to blow out + the candle. I remembered thinking that the director + must not have been friends with the dark to have robbed + it of its beauty that way. Modern film was no better. + Rapists stalked victims in the half-light, and even + Freddy's world was populated with a hungry fire that + clothed the dark in an acceptable uniform. Too bad + that even now no director can capture the depth of + night. I wished I could show them. + + I stopped abruptly and inclined my head. A shop window + had caught my eye. I prowled forward to study the + costume in the window. A milk white mannequin eyed me + unseeingly, an amethyst expression of hopelessness. A + velvet confection hung from her hanger-thin shoulders, + cloudy and rich. I made a mental note to return to + this shop the next night to purchase this burgundy + wonder. I sighed abruptly, longing for the complexities + of the old days. This gown reminded me of those + lost gossamer times. Depressed now, I ambled away + from the window and turned purposefully toward my + destination. The club was waiting. + + I could already hear the heavy bass emanating from + the after-hours club, located in an abandoned church + basement. Ghouled men and women lurked around the + door, appropriately attired in fishnet and brocade. + Their pale flesh gleamed in the blued darkness, and + many of them sported freshly oozing wounds on their + arms and legs. Above them hung a cobwebby cloud of + smoke, and their laughter rose thinly to meet the smog. + I approached the bouncer at the door, who recognized me + and waved me in. I descended, gliding toward ecstasy. + + I immediately slithered to my regular table, back + in the corner near the empty bar. Ancient velvet + draperies faded to a steel grey adorned the stone + wall behind me. I reclined in my chair, throwing one + booted foot on top of the table. I had not gone out + of my way tonight. I simply wore faded and torn jeans + and a black velvet shirt with my ankle length calvary + coat and a tiny bit of blood-black lipstick. I was + not in the mood for costume drama. I flicked open my + silver cigarette case and drew one out. Suddenly a + flame appeared before me, and I smiled in recognition. + + "Vincent." + + "Cleo, my love." + + I gestured toward the chair beside me and he slid into + it. He had gone all out. Black velvet cape with red + satin lining floated all around his wiry frame, lacy + poet shirt and black leggings completed the picture. + I nodded in approval. He looked pretty. I drew in smoke + and puffed it out, watching the ghoulies, as we called + them, fling their bodies around on the dance floor. The + odor of sweat draped the smoked air. Glittering nail + polish and glow in the dark fangs beckoned from the + human mass in the center of the club. I was about to + comment on this sight when I heard Vincent chuckle, + and I arched one eyebrow at him. + + "Nothing, darling. Just bemused." + + He lit his own cigarette, and we played out the ritual, + waiting. It did not take long. It never did. A young + couple approached us, swaying slightly, probably from + alcohol. I would know in a moment. They sat opposite + us, grinning inanely. No words were exchanged. The + young man rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm + to me. I watched the sweat bead up on his forehead + and slide over the contures of his face. He worried + his lip in anticipation. + + I leaned forward and grasped his arm tightly. With my + thumbnail I made a small cut in the soft flesh of his + inner forearm. The blood beaded on his pale skin, + a nourishing jewel to be treasured. Delicately I + flicked my tongue out and tasted him. I heard him + groan in pleasure. + + Diseased blood. I could taste it. I spat on the floor. + Disease did not hurt me, not really, but clean blood + tasted much better. I had a well developed palate. I + narrowed my eyes at the young man, who had a bewildered + look about him, much like the amethyst eyed mannequin + I had encountered earlier. + + "Go get a blood test, you disgusting creature." + + I nodded at the girl, who had a horrified expression + on her thin face. I was oddly impressed by the + translucence of her skin. I could see her veins + throbbing just beneath the surface of her tissue + paper flesh. + + "You too. Now, go." + + Tears gathered in the young woman's eyes and she + grabbed her boyfriend's arm and pulled him away from + the table. I laughed. + + "Diseased thing." + + Vincent nodded. "Many of them are, I am afraid. So + nasty tasting." + + "You taste test the next one, then." + + I could hear his sigh above the music. I glanced at + him inquiringly. + + "Remember when we had to work for a living?" He wore + a sad expression. + + "This is a phase. It will pass." + + "Perhaps. Look.. here comes another." + + A plump young woman, alone, draped in gauze. Her + bare arms were heavily scarred - a good sign. Vincent + took her hand and pulled her into his lap. He smiled + wanly at me over her shoulder. Gently he scraped her + neck with his teeth. Out of her sight he raised one + hand and made the thumbs up symbol. Then he drank, + deeply. As I watched I recalled the month I spent + practicing my bite. It had taken many hours to perfect + my technique. Biting like a human was not as simple + as it would seem. One must always be cautious. The + ghoulies should have no inkling that they were being + attacked by anything but another human with dental + fangs. Vincent was a professional. He was the one + who had convinced me to allow these creatures to + bite me so that I could emulate them. It had been a + sickening experience, but had proved useful in the end. + + Vincent passed her over to me carelessly. I chose a + pleasantly soft spot on the other side of her neck and + sank my teeth into her vein. She jerked mildly and then + relaxed in my grip. I breathed in the heady metallic + perfume of her blood. This one had a sweet taste to + her, my favorite. Vampire lore claims that drinking + human blood provides an almost orgasmic sensation + in the vampire. A pile of nonsense. It can only be + compared to a fine meal and the fullness one feels + afterward. Not that exciting really, just difficult + to obtain at times. Therein lies the thrill. I licked + her wound and released her. + + "Thank you," she whispered, and walked away, + trembling. + + "A victim who thanks her attacker. What more could + one want?" I lit another cigarette, content for + the evening. + + "The thrill of the hunt, for one." + + "Why are you here, then?" I was annoyed. I wanted to + enjoy my cigarette in silence, not engage in philosophical + discussions about our way of life. + + "I am closing the club." + + "What?" I glared at him. I could feel my eyes blazing in + their sockets. + + "Right now, as a matter of fact." With that he rose + from his chair and snaked through the mass of + bodies to the center of the dance floor. He lifted + one hand and the music stopped. The sudden silence + swelled the room, and the human mass jerked into an + uncomfortable motionlessness. Frenzied expressions + raised to meet Vincent's. + + "I am closing the club. Now. It will not re-open." + + Human cries of angst and anger rose to the ceiling. + I imagined the timbers trembling with the weight of + their disappointment. And mine. One voice rose above + the others. + + "Why are you doing this?" + + "Because we are not like you. We are not.. we are not + playacting at bloodthirst, as you do. This way of life + is weakening us. We need the hunt, we thrive beneath + it. That is all." + + Then the inexplicable occurred. The mob swelled inward, + and for a moment I could see nothing. Then, just as + suddenly, it parted, a parting sea of lace and velvet. + Vincent. He was on the floor, empty eyes staring into + eternity. Blood flowed like wine at a wedding. His + heart.. his heart was missing. Frantically my eyes + searched the mass, and I spied a male morsel grasping + Vincent's heart, tearing pieces from it with his + gleaming teeth predatorily. + + Escape. I must escape this blood-bath. I hugged the wall, + eyeing the stairs and the mob simultaneously. I could + see pieces of my beloved friend being passed around. + They were vultures preying on carrion. The sight sickened + me. Finally I reached the stairs, and I raced toward + the door, freedom within my grasp. Just as my fingers + touched the doorknob an inhuman strength clutched at my + throat. Hot breath tickled my ear. + + "Run, vampire. You thought to fool us, when we were the + ones fooling you. We waited, patient assassins, for + this moment, to show you that our power is greater + than your own. Your ignorance will destroy you. Go, + before I insist that you don't." + + Suddenly he released me, and I raced into the night, + fear my pursuer. + + + Monika DeMire + demonika@demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0510.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0510.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b2b5df94 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0510.txt @@ -0,0 +1,178 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + t w e n t y t w o + + + a year has past. the longest of my spent life + no doubt, has just f l o w n by + me without a g o o d b y e, probably because it + is still here -- still near to help me. + + in one year i have learned so many things -- it's + u n r e a l to think, in one past, i was merely + twenty. would i have imagined it then, -- my + conscious self -- which dreams in my life would + unfold themselves post sleep? and how many? + + for the past six months i have been free from + cubicle walls, working in the unfinished dungeon + of my basement -- by myself, yet for myself. + you see, this has always been my dream. not + quite, yet what i have seen in them -- yet six + months, in t i m e, is still early. + + off hand i can't say that i've done a lot, but + when i think about it, i've been through a lot. + i have loved. i have loved before, you see, but + not like this. for i have always poured love out + over w a l l s so high -- no love could get in. + + for the first time, i pulled someone up over the + walls -- for the first time, i let someone l o v e + me. sure -- some have loved me b e f o r e, + but it doesn't take long to learn your love is + not wanted, though effort a p p r e c i a t e d. + + what have i learned from this? love h u r t s -- + as much as, if not more than, pushing it back. + See, when you wall out everything, you're merely + injured by your lack of what you imagine love to + be, to feel like, coming in -- a feeling seemingly + so much greater than the feeling going out. + + yet when you accept love, there is a hell of a + lot of shit that goes with it -- makes me wonder + if this is how my love felt. with love, at + times, one pays the price. but i am + s t r o n g e r now. and having t r u s t e d, + i feel i am more able to trust m y s e l f. + + i used to f e a r the m word, appropriately + abbreviated by the four letter word 'm i n e.' + it's not so bad being someone's. it's just that + f o r e v e r bit i seem to mind. the mind is bad + at times . . . or who am i to discredit my life's + guide? i will rephrase that -- the m i n d is + difficult. just when the inter-relational strife + builds up, a few choice faces, along with the + rest of their natural selves, invade my dreams. + + + in waking, i shortly ponder why i put up with + this begrudging entity curled next to yet far from + me. to a c t on such dreams would be blissful, yet + oh so temporary, ecstasy. once reality hit, the + ecstasy would exit, and in that void i would at + least hope to feel guilty- feel s o m e t h i n g. + knowing anything feels better than the numbness. + + my song at nineteen -- rather fitting, especially + when sung by a thirty-year-old friend of mine -- + 'hey n i n e t e e n, no we can't dance tonight,' + left me fumbling ever so ungracefully towards + ecstasy at twenty. by t w e n t y one, or near the + end, i should say, it was just no good at all. + + and is no good. and probably will never be. maybe + by twenty t h r e e i'll loose my apathy. oddly + enough, it was when apathy hit -- when i let go of + how i wanted my life to be -- that my dreams began + to unfold before me. to think i used to abhor the + word, 'a p a t h y,' at t h i r t e e n, ready to + take on much more than the world around me. + + it's no good. i was never much a fan of depeche + mode -- lyrics where nice, but the music just + didn't move me. now with my acquired grains of + w i s d o m, i realize it was never supposed to + move me, but s t o p every little thing + that flows within me -- jolting me to a screeching + halt -- with the first note, rendering me intern- + ally void, e m p t y, for the music to pour the + words, themselves, into me, filling me, forming me + into a substance of my dreams, not them of me. + + once, and only once, did this song move me -- + one night, my inhibitions long since drunk away, + rendered my walls a form of putty. as everything + within ceased on cue, external warmth molded the + words forming within me. and since, that putty + seems to have formed s t o n e memories. + + i have learned about myself, and yet learned no + shame. i am known to regret too much, to hold + onto too many things, yet n o n e i hold now are + y o u n g -- and hopefully by twentythree, none + will remain. i have learned to regard the g o o d + and bad, with not indifference, but acceptance. + to n o t d w e l l o n t h e s e t h i n g s. + + my tension is loosening. my neck and shoulders + actually feel f r e e, unbound by the weight of + the stresses i once carried with me. i may + be far from stress-free, but at least i can turn + my head, see over them -- b e y o n d the 'me.' + + there are t h r e e men that i love -- only one + that knows he is o n e of three, yet still stays + with me.and possibly a fourth that thinks he knows + where i am falling. though i have yet to create my + own stipulations between the definitions of love + and _in_love_, i can, with a seed of certainty, + say that by then, the 'in' will have found me. + + what concerns me is, then, will i have found it in + only three? what is it that holds something so + precious as love as h o s t a g e for one? with + the answer to this, will someone please help me? + + in my h e r m i t a g e, isolated from the rest of + the working world out there, that endless hummm of + white-noised cubicle culture is replaced by the + stchurching of sprinklers, the meowing of mowers, + the chatter and laughter of children singing + through the trees to the music whistling in the + winds. though seemingly isolated, i am far from + the a l o n e that i felt, surrounded by so many + people, yet so few who chanced to get to know me. + + i have the freedom to do what i want and when, to + write in bed, well past ten. to structure my day. + to w a l k the dog. to pet the cat. to feel at + home, in a place of mine own -- something + i h a v e n e v e r q u i t e h a d. + + in this past year, i have grown a lot. have read + a lot. have loved and laughed to my heart's + content. did dare to crack a smile -- a toothy one + at that. the light is returning to my once + blue eyes, to dawn the dewey green. this past + year, i believe i have found my 's e l f.' in the + next year, i plan to find confidence in it, in me. + + + yt 060898 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0511.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0511.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..270ca90d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0511.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + with no caring + -------------- + +someone... something... somewhere must be laughing its ass off. + +i find myself very frequently thinking about just what the hell we are. it +could be that we're a completely natural, but random chemical reaction that +just happened to take place on this arbitrary rock in this dark, sparkling +void. + +there could be a divine being, possibly several divine beings who were +overflowing with love and creativity, and just had to make a universe out +of it. + +it could be, though, that we are under a microscope being watched by some +sick fucker who created this species to bitch and moan and burn up fossil +fuels so that he/she/it may learn, and teach its kind about what it is to +be disgusting. + +imagine that any, or all, of these possibilities is true. that still +doesn't explain much of anything. we're still a greedy, sloppy, stupid, +bitchy, dull, brainwashed species, and we have no clue why. + +i'm not at all grateful for my existence, and those of the other billions +of people on this planet. why should i be when my favorite sitcom got +pre-empted for the state of the union address? and why do they have to +broadcast it on every channel? politicians suck! they're all dirty and +corrupt, or so i've been conditioned to believe. wouldn't matter either +way. i need someone distant to hate. kill whitey! you can't oppress me! +women's rights! gay rights! animal rights! free tibet! peace in the middle +east! no new taxes! oh god these potato chips make me feel fat. i'd blow my +brains out if i could find them. + +so, all of a sudden, a chemical reaction occurs. it spends the next 20 or +so years being controlled by an ape or two, who were brainwashed beforehand +to believe that certain things are "wrong" - such as pornography, obesity, +sugar, and opinionated youth; and that other things are "right", such as +standardized education, tolerance, parental supervision, and broccoli. the +apes have no idea how to care for this young chemical reaction, although, +for their entire existence, they had these universal guidelines to follow. +out of all the things they were conditioned to accept, the reasons behind +the universal guidelines' existence and common acceptance were never +revealed. no one knows how these things start. people may scapegoat time, +but i believe they arose more like the bible. + +tangent: on a beautiful spring night in bethlehem, some drunken men were +sitting around a campfire, breaking things over their heads, when a +tradition was born: the first to fall asleep would have a nasty trick +played on him. and, of course, good ol' joseph the lightweight passes out +first, becoming history's first party victim. the other four partygoers +plotted out their devious plan.... + +back then, there wasn't a whole lot else to do besides plot against people, +so these four lushes devised a long, and very detailed ploy. in brief, one +of the four sedated and fornicated with joe's wife, mary. nine months +later, the other three dressed up like idiots and brought shiny rocks and +smelly things to the manger where mary, who didn't know what the hell was +happening, was giving birth. they claimed to be wise men. the lush who had +done the deed dressed in white and said he was a divine messenger sent from +the Origin of Everything, more commonly known as God. + + +and so on... + +anyway, ape 1 and/or ape 2 spend about 20 years guarding their young +chemical reaction, making sure that no one gets close enough to implant an +opinion in its head not preset by the universal guidelines. they were, +however, conditioned to trust public schools. + +to make a long, and extremely well known story short, we live, we burn +fossil fuels, we die, and we pollute this rock with lacquered wooden boxes +which hold our corpses. + +we're planted on this rock. we don't know why, and most of us are +perfectly, stupidly happy not knowing. with no caring, we putt along, not +minding being completely oblivious, and completely useless. + +this includes me. i can't deny the fact that i still want, and love, even +knowing that it doesn't matter. i'm as human as any of the drones around +me, and just as brainwashed. i sometimes have to remind myself to think. +it's disgusting just how human i am, and how i can go about my merry +business just like everyone else. i'll say i'm not like everyone else. i'm +not like anyone else. but i can just as easily talk about trivial bullshit +and how important it is to me. i imagine this as my inner unrest-the +question i am always asking. but hell if i know the answer, or the question +for that matter. + +i could fall in love with this turmoil. + +i want to forgive myself for being human, but that seems like an +unreasonable request. at the same time i want to believe that i'm not, or +that it's not my fault. i realize now that i can't stop myself from +feeling, needing, and wanting. i refuse to accept this as a fault i must mend. + + +sarikei + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0512.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0512.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9c1a0e06 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0512.txt @@ -0,0 +1,73 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Pavlov's Dogs + ------------- + + 'And the dinner bells keep on ringing...' + + People amaze me. As much as we feel we have progressed forward, we +have remained fairly in the same position. Our reaction to situations is so +deeply ingrained in our psychological make-up that it's pathetic. Take a +look at this in your life, for example: The phone rings. The immediate +response is to pick up the receiver and answer in either a casual or formal +tone, normally depending upon atmosphere. See my point? + + Perhaps I need to illustrate this further, digressing into a little +speech on human relationships. Cookbook relationships tend to be what sell +these days. Look at any stupid teen bopper magazine and you'll see this +painted as clear as day. People believe and will do whatever they read, +and will often inherent this as an almost stereotypical response to any +small quirk that upsets their life. + + So what's my point? People are becoming just like Pavlov's dogs. +Salivating at the situations that they can understand and respond too, and +doing so quickly. No thought, and no rendering the problem into bits and +pieces for easier consumption and understanding. Indeed, all of these +aspects of the situation are entirely overlooked. Instead, they hop over to +the easier solution: doing what their feeble minds have been programmed and +instructed to do over the ages. + + Why does this piss me off? I'm not even sure it does. It was just +something that popped into my head and I wanted to get it down on paper for +later review. Cause and effect is the standard for most of today's +relationships - political, personal, or otherwise. + + All of this leads to the reason that I feel people became so upset +these days. We live in a world of unbelievable convenience and reliability. +We expect our systems and supports to be firmly entrenched. But, when +something throws a wrench into our plans, we splatter off of our cloud into +a bloody mess below. + + So, next time your pissed off because some random situation just isn't +playing out how you intended it to, try to figure out what the situation is +trying to teach you, learn from it, and then forget it immediately. Because +I don't want you to be on top of things, and I want you to suffer. + + In short, think and you will be superior. + + +-dropcomm-- + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0513.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0513.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0ec743b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0513.txt @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + How to Waste Your Life & Improve Your Low Self-Esteem + ----------------------------------------------------- + by Annoying Undeserving People + ------------------------------ + + or + + How to be an 31337 IRC h4x0r + + +Since a lot of people seem to be interested in learning how to take over +channels on IRC, I thought I'd outline the basic steps. + +#1. First of all, you have to be a complete loser. Otherwise, you'd either +be accepted in the channel, or have something better to do. + +#2. Secondly, you must have no life. It takes time to find/cause splits, +set up bot-nets, etc. If you had a life, you wouldn't have time to do all +this. + +#3. You must be a vindictive prick. You're going to be a pain in the ass +to a lot of people, and if you're not a complete asshole, you might +actually feel bad about it. + +#4. You must have low self-esteem. Ok, so this isn't required, but it +helps to motivate you so you can sit around and feel good about yourself. +If you don't have low self-esteem, then you wouldn't need to take over +channels to fuel your ego. + +#5. You must be a coward. If you weren't afraid, then you'd be able to +deal with the people you have a problem with somewhere other than IRC. + +#6. You must be a wannabe. If you had any real "skillz", you'd be out +using them constructively, but you don't so you're resigned to h4x0r1ng IRC. + +#7. You must be able to lie to yourself. That way, you can justify your +actions in your own mind, and won't have to worry when others present you +with evidence of how pathetic you are. + +#8. Lastly, and most importantly, you have to be able to feign +indifference. You have to be able to pretend like it doesn't matter when +people don't kiss your ass like you really want them too. You have to act +like what you did was no big deal, when in reality you're so proud that +you're bursting. You have to be able to brush it off when people come back +at you with intelligent arguments about how lame takeovers are. + +So you see, taking over an IRC channel is not much different than taking +over your little sisters tea party, it's just a matter of being pathetic +enough to want to do it. + + And for those of you wondering, no I'm not just whining because "my" +channel got taken over. I don't even have a channel. It does get annoying +though when the channels I go into to kill boredom are suddenly invite only +because some lil' IRC hacker's daddy gave him too much attention. + + The easiest thing to do when your channel is taken over, though, is to +simply make another channel & ignore the idiots. If they take over your new +channel, just move again. They'll eventually grow tired of you and go +search for somebody else to give 'em as much attention as their daddy use to. + + +-InVerse + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0514.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0514.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b79250ba --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0514.txt @@ -0,0 +1,417 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + coffee talk + ----------- + +"You know, Ravel once said that his Bolero was like a symphony without + any music. Sometime I think that that is how you are Tom" + +"Well, I am not sure if that is a good thing or not" + +"You or the symphony?" + +"Me", said Tom as he plucked the cigarette case up off of the table. + + With a deft flick of the wrist a cigarette was taken out of the case. +"Would you like one?" + +"Sure, thanks" + +Tom brushed the coffee cup to the side and found the wooden matches under +a crumpled napkin. He lit one, striking it crisply off of the side of the +box, and in cupped hands raised the lit match in her direction. + +Anna inhaled deeply on the cigarette, and Tom proceeded to light his own. + +"Why do you say that?", asked Tom. + +"Well, imagine if that cigarette had no taste. You still got the nicotine +that you wanted, but the taste was missing. Sometime I think that's you" + +"You're saying the I have no flavor for life?" + +"No, what I am saying is that you live life, but sometimes it seems somewhat +lifeless" + +"Why in the world would you say that? I am perfectly happy with my life" + +"Really?" + +"Yes, really" + +"Somehow I doubt that" said Anna as she lifted her coffee cup, stopping + half way as she realized that it was in dire need of a refill. + +"Anna, you are talking in riddles here. I am not following you" + +"OK, lets take, um well how about your love life?" + +"What love life" + +"My point exactly. Sometimes I think that you just need a good fuck. A + non-descript one night stand" + +"Oh, come on. You know that that is not me.", he replied incredulously + +"Oh, get off of your high horse. I mean have you looked at yourself + recently? Well?" + +"Sure I have." + +"Bullshit. Come on, what normal person stays home on a Friday night + reading a book, refusing to go out into the social gathering places?" + +"Well, there is something to be said for reading" said Tom, knowing full + well he was starting to dig himself a hole. + +"Please, don't say that. I mean what happened with Trish. She was pretty, + smart, funny" + +"Not single" + +"Only in the classical sense. For all intents and purposes she was" + +"But she wasn't, and how am I supposed to start a relationship with + someone who isn't single?" + +"Who says that everything has to be a relationship. You seem to have this + weird concept that everything has to be done with a purpose in mind. That + there is some grand scheme to everything. Why can you just live for the + moment? + +"Because that isn't who I am," said Tom as he glanced to his forgotten half +burned cigarette. He picked it up, touched off the ash, and inhaled deeply. +"Besides what' the matter with wanting something substantial with a woman?" + +"Do you like to fuck?" + +"Excuse me." + +"I said do you like to fuck. F-U-C-K." + +"Sure, I like to have sex" + +"That's not what I asked. Do you like to fuck?" + +"What kind of stupid question is that?" + +"Apparently not a very stupid one, or else you wouldn't be dodging the + question" + +"OK, I like to fuck, are you happy?" + +"No, not if that is some kind of bullshit patronizing answer you said just + to avoid the question" + +"If by fuck, you mean sex with someone I don't really know, well no I don't" + +"See that is the problem. You get so fucking wound up, and full of yourself + concentrating on finding a relationship before you have sex, you have + forgotten your primal urges" + +"Come on Anna, what is the matter with trying to be a normal person who + tried to avoid the occasional bout of herpes or worse." + +"More like trying to avoid intamicy" + +"No, more like trying not to get hurt" + +"There you go again with that hurt thing. It is the hurt that puts you into + that shell of yours. Your ability to avoid anything that might put into + harms way. Life without flavor" + +And with that Tom look at the burnt butt of his cigarette. He reached over +to his case and plucked out another. He studied it for a minute before +popping it into his mouth. He reached over to the box of matches, and took +one out, and lit his cigarette as Anna starts up again. + +"Please tell me that I am not talking to a wall here." + +"You aren't. All I am saying is that there is no reward in life that can +counteract the amount of pain that you have to go thru to get it. It is +all bullshit when it comes down to it. I mean look at all of the crap a +guy has to go thru to get a date." + +"Example" + +"For beginners, it is tough to date in your circle of friends. It is like +social imbreeding. There isn't any fresh faces or idea's" + +"Ok, I am looking at the merchandise, but I am not sold" + +"Fine, if you would let me finish" + +"OK" + +"Where are men supposed to meet women these days. Should I do the club +thing and find some woman drunk and strike up conversation on my plans to +eradicate catholics" + +"Very funny" + +"Or maybe discuss dogma verses karma" + +"Do they have to have good karma to fuck them?" + +"That is not what I am saying. What I am saying is that if you want to go + out and find someone to start a relationship with you are screwed. Bars, + clubs, trolling the Internet, they are all fruitless. If you want to meet + someone to fuck, that is a whole 'nother story that I don't want to get into" + +"Well please don't stop on my account" + +"Ok fine. Meeting someone to fuck is easy for most. All you have to do is + have the flavor of the month in fashion, a good pickup line, and a little + cash to flash, and viola, it is a quick trip to fuckville." + +"Well, preacherman, why don't you do as you say?" + +"Cause that is not what I want. How wrong is that? To not go fuck someone. + To have a normal conversation the ends maybe with a phone number and a peck + on the cheek?" + +"Is that what you really want" + +"Of course it is. That's what I said isn't " + +"Then, Tom my friend you have some pretty fuckin' delusional ideas about + what life with the opposite sex is all about" + +"You mean to tell me that there isn't some woman out there right now who + wouldn't appreciate that feeling?" + +"Sure there is, but she is just as caught up in the same line as you are. + If neither one of you is willing to say boo to the other, how the hell are + you supposed to meet?" + +"Isn't that what I just asked you?" + +"Fine fine fine......I don't know Tom. This isn't the Brady Bunch. Live + isn't as easy as it appears. All I am saying is that you need to get out a + little more. Explore what is outside of this coffee shop and your house. + Put down your precious books, and go to a bar. Have a drink, unwind and + relax for a change. I am telling you, being wound this tight is not + healthy. I mean I can see the headlines now. 25 year old man has heart + attack because he was too stressed about not getting laid" + +"Cut me some slack here" + +"No way, not on this one. Tom, if I didn't like you so much, I would take + you home with me right now" + +"Excuse me." + +"Nevermind" + +"What do you mean never mind? I have know you for 4 years. 4 solid years + of being your friend, and if you knew me less, you would sleep with me, + but because you know me too well, you wont sleep with me? What kind of + logic is that?" + +"The logic that states that friends should not sleep together. It + compromises the integrity of the relationship" + +"See, now this doesn't make any sense. You know a guy, who I assume you find + somewhat attractive, spend years getting to know everything about him, and + then is deemed unacceptable to sleep with. It is like I have been tested, + graded, scored, and thrown back. You obviously find me attractive enough + to sleep with, or else you would have not said what you said" + +"Now you are twisting my words" + +"Didn't you just say that if you didn't know me so well, you would sleep + with me?" + +"So, Tom, what you are saying is that you are willing to toss 4 years of + friendship for 4 minutes of pleasure" + +"Now, don't make this personal" + +"I didn't mean it like that, but what I am saying is that friends are tough + to find. Finding someone to fuck isn't" + +"For you maybe. I think that it is a tad more socially acceptable for a + woman to be more forward than a guy. I mean if I go talk to a woman, she + assumes that all I want is sex, but when a woman talks to a man, he hopes + that all she wants is sex. It is fear verses want in this case." + +"Ok, point taken." + +"Does this mean that you have considered sleeping with me?" + +"Sure, once or twice, but then I realized that I like you as a friend way + too much" + +"See, that is my curse, always the friend, never the boyfriend" + +"Now you are just being hard on yourself" + +"But, I am not. Women friends seem to like to talk to me. They find the + crap I say to them sensitive. I might as well be gay to them." + +"Have you considered that approach?" + +"Fuck you" + +"I'll take that as a no" + +"Correct, it is a no. All I am saying is that women find me non aggressive, + easy to talk to. All I needed to be was neat and thin and I might as well + be gay" + +A pause came over the table as the waitress came over. + +"Can I get you some more coffee?" + +Both nodded their heads yes. The waitress poured them both a cup and left. + +"So what if I offered to take you home right now and have sex with you?" + +"I would say no." + +"What, am I too fat for you?" + +"No, that is not it. It's just that I never thought of you like that before. + I am not saying that I couldn't fall in love with you, however, I am not + going to have sex unless I am in love, especially with you" + +"See right there is your downfall. You shouldn't have to have love with + sex. It is nice, but not necessary" + +"But that is where you and I are fundamentally different. I think that + you need to have love for sex. What is the point of sex. It is simply a + function if there is no love with sex." + +"Do you honestly believe that you have to have love? What is the matter with + simply having a connection with a person during the duration?" + +"Connections are fine, but don't you want a little more than that? Do you + want there to be some type of purpose to your actions?" + +And with that a pause came over the table. Tom reached out for his cigarette +case and got out a cigarette. With a nod he looked in Anna's direction, as +to offer her a cigarette. She nods in acceptance, and Tom holds one for her. +She puts it towards her mouth an Tom lights it up for her. Beyond the flame, +she sees for the first time the depth and honesty in Tom's eyes. As the +flame goes out, she holds her gaze half a second longer, searching. + +"Tom, why do you feel the need to be so honest about your feelings? Why + don't you want to live for the moment?" + +"I think that if I cannot be honest at all times, at what point does lying + become acceptable? I don't like to let dishonesty creep up on me. Next + thing I know, not only am I lying to myself, but then I am lying to others, + and that is not a healthy approach to life." + +"Well, what about the waitress? + +"What about the waitress?" + +"Would you ask her out? She is young, pretty, and pleasant" + +"No, I don't think so. I am just not the outspoken one of the group. I think + that falls to you." + +As Tom finishes, the waitress appears with a fresh brewed pot of coffee. + +"Can I get you folks some more coffee?" + +"Sure, but can I ask you something,," said Anna. + +"Sure, I guess so." + +"Well my friend here has been saying some very nice things about you this + evening, but was hesitant to approach you" + +With that, Tom turns bright red. + +"Well, is that so......" looking at Tom, asking with her eyes his name. + +"Tom, my name is Tom." he managed to force out of his mouth + +"Well, ...Tom, that is very flattering, but" + +"I understand, you have a boyfriend, or, no let me guess, you don't + particularly like guys who have to have their friends approach you?" + +"No, that's not it at all. Frankly, you strike me as quite a nice guy, + however, I am not really looking. I just... well lets just say that I + am not looking" + +"Well, thanks for breaking my spirit gently" + +Smiling she says "No problem, but again thanks" + +Walking away, Tom pours some sugar into his coffee. "She, that's what I +am talking about. She was genuine. No bullshit. Even if it was bullshit, +it was good bullshit. I bought it" + +"Well, take a good look around this place. Is there anyone that you would + talk to?" + +"No" + +"You didn't even move your head. Come, take a look around you. Those + other things that look like us are called people. They have been know + to meet other people. Then they have conversations. Who knows where they + go from there." + +"OK, you can dispense with the sarcasm. OK, there is a girl in the booth + three down from you. She has been reading here book nearly the entire + time, but every now and then, she will peer into our conversation. She + has a bright, open intelligent face, and appears to have good taste in + books" + +"So why won't you talk to her?" + +"And say what. Gawlle, you sheeer look purdy. I don't think I actually + own a pick up line." + +"Come on. you don't have to have a pickup line. You can go, introduce + yourself, and go from there. Ask her her name or something. Just don't + go say anything lame, like "YOU sheeer look purdy", get it". + +"Come Anna, cut me a little slack here." + +"Oh no Tom, there will be no slack cutting here. You said yourself that + she is attractive. I am not leaving until you get up out of that chair + and go say hello to the young woman over there." + +Tom felt a nervous energy that he hadn't felt in years. Has all of this +time away from the opposite sex truly created a void inside?, Tom wondered. + +"OK, fine" said Tom, grabbing his matches and cigarette case, as he stood up +and walked away from Anna. + +Anna, in a visible shock, did not turn around to follow him. A smile of +disbelief crept over Anna's face. A moment of spontinaety and Tom didn't +keel over dead, she thought to herself. The least he could have was left +me a cigarette. + + +skmcd +skmcd@sni.net + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0515.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0515.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5af838c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0515.txt @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Last exit + --------- + +The cannon of the gun pressed hard against my right temple, i find it +strange that i'm in complete control of my hand, seems i have the will +necessary to do this, i'm not nervous, i'm not sweating.. i'm just a bit +cold, that's all.. + +*click* + +Sigh.. nothing.. +Seems I cant even do that right. Shouldn't have paid attention when that +guy said to "play Russian roulette with yourself." He thought it would be +a good way to end this thing in an exciting way, even though every time it +fails it reminds me of the failure that i am. An exciting way.. heh, +exciting were the times when i had fun all day and night, and had sex +until the sun came up.. now i don't even remember what a blowjob feels +like. + +*click* + +Heh.. of course, it was not yet to be. Even now god likes to fuck up my +life, however little remains of it. One would think that he had enough fun +the last 29 years, but maybe he's enjoying it so much he doesn't want it to +end. Yet. + +*click* + +"Pray." The old lady said.. sigh.. if she only knew. Pray to what? to +whom? what for? it never did any good before, why should it work now? +I've got nothing for my prayers, even before i turned against god (or is +it the other way around?) Praying has only brought me pain and hope; hope +that was shattered when everything went wrong, when the world turned black +to me. Some people say "at least there's some hope left" no there isn't, +you're just expecting things to be better, the pain is much worse when you +realize nothing will change. Erasing all trace of hope within me was one +of the best things i ever did.. + +*click* + +Loving is wrong. Love is poison. Love kills. It did that to me.. many +times. I've been deserted by everyone that "loved" me. Granted, i did some +things that i'm not proud of, things that made her leave me ultimately.. +and so did my sons, last time i heard of one of them was years +ago.. i don't even know what they look like now; i gave everything i had to +them, dedicated my life around them, for nothing.. just a months ago +someone told me i was a grandparent. The irony.. + +*click* + +I should've known this was going to happen. At least now i know for sure +that next time i pull the trigger ill be out of here.. maybe they'll say i +went out with a bang.. heh.. sigh.. No they wont. No one will notice, +that's the truth, ugly truth? perhaps, but truth nevertheless. +Funny, i thought it was going to be different. I remember being a kid and +always thinking of living a happy life, growing old, and dying peacefully. +I'm none of those, even tho some people will say i was old. It really +doesn't make a difference now.. nothing does.. so this is how it's going to +be.. i shall be leaving now.. goodbye.. + +*click* + + +-shyguy + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0516.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0516.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..16fa36c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0516.txt @@ -0,0 +1,78 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + It is Okay + ---------- + +Have you ever felt like nothing was going right, and nothing was going to +be okay? Or that you just wish there was someone that would say, "It is +okay", and have it be true? + +My life has become a very chaotic thing : Never knowing what will become of +my day until that hour comes, and then afterwards being totally drained of +all my energy - or being so energized I cannot find any peace of mind. My +life has never been normal (refer to file "Normality"), it still had some +sense of order though...until recently - when everything is almost +constantly up in the air. Not knowing...feeling like I will never know. +Because of this not-knowingness, my moods have been so incredibly up and +down that I can barely stay level more then an hour - and that is when I am +lucky. + +One minute I want to kick someone's ass in, and the next moment all I want +to do is curl up and cry or disappear. Other times, I am so happy or hyper +that I doubt that anything could ever bring me down ... then all of sudden, +BOOM! Something happens in my life or something changes in my mood, and I +feel differently. + +Most recently, I have been noticing that I have a lot of pent up anger or +frustration. Sometimes, I wish I could just sit down and write it all +out...but I cannot bring myself to do so, because of what I fear will come +out. I know it would be filled with such bitterness and darkness, that it +would send shivers up and down my spine if I were to ever read what I would +write. So, I do not write. Instead, I find myself wondering and thinking, +and not having a solid way to let my emotions be expressed. As the madness +of chaos continues, I finally break down and write something out (refer to +"Don't Give a Shit"). All I can see is what bitterness is trying to do to +me. Or how over-worked my mind has become with everything that has been +going on. Not wanting to let all my emotions stop, nor wanting to have to +deal with all the emotions that come along with such a chaotic life. + +I was not okay with seeming to be bitter. It was not until I said that to +someone, and they simply replied, "It's okay to be bitter", did I really +get to thinking ... Really? "Being bitter, shows that you have fire within +you.", "You have a lot of passion inside of you." + +Is fire the same as passion? + +Is it really okay to have all the different assorted thoughts that I go +through in an hour, a day, a week? I remember someone told me once, I +cannot help how I feel, just what I do with those feelings. Looking at +things that way, then yes, it IS okay. + +- Kamira +April 13, 1998 +kami@sekurity.org + +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0517.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0517.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a0cfad37 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0517.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + These Shoes Are Made For Walking + -------------------------------- + + + + He was mean. Hyperbaggy jeans overlapping his trendy Vans +slapping against the sidewalk, hopping over the cracks and drifting +off into a payphone jutting out the brightly lit city street. Lifts +the receiver, up to the ear, flat dialtone. Fingers racing across +the keys, ringing in the ear, pounds a few more keys, kerchunk. + + Buzzing. Rings of dark unfulfilled sleep encircle his +fluorescent blue eyes. Pushes bits of bleached blond hair back +and pops in his headphones. Dark, brooding, violent music. Slips +out the door into the musty day, bookbag hunching him over, loaded +with the weight of information. + + The bookstore is spread out. Cashier behind the counter, +picking nose or doing something else perhaps even less trivial. +Vans slap carpet, walls of information adorn the environment. Steps +into the computer section, flip, flip, flip goes the pages of the +book, remove tag, drop in bookbag. Spin around, dash out the door. + + Down the street and into the pizza parlor. Smells of grease +and baking bread. Goes for a coke and a slice of pizza. Police car +creeps by, brown haired cop, dopey and beady little eyes masqueraded +behind a pair of thick black lenses. The bridge of his nose slightly +offsets them, permanent scowl resides on his face. Gun comes out of +his pocket, fires off a few rounds, no one notices in the big city. + + He walks out onto the streets, eyes darting from side to +side, paranoia sweeping in like mad. Runs like he's on fire down +the street and hops right over and into the barrel of an awaiting +officers gun. Down on your knees and hands behind your back. Stiff +kick to the ribs, belted across the face with a pistol. Nose bleeds +profusely, fear, oppression, anger. + + In the cruiser, down the street, into town hall. Walks up +the marble steps, slipping and crashing down on his knee. Jeans +tear. Vans slap across the floor of an entirely mundane building. +Electric sensors strapped to his body, questioning begins. + + '2+2 is 4.' False. Zap. '2+2 is 4.' False. Zap. '2+2 is 4.' +Fuck you. Crunch, cheek bone plastered by the barrel of a gun, +caressing it in a not so friendly manner. + + 'Accept our truth, don't look for your own answers. No +more problems, no more knowledge, ignorance. Understand, accept, +love the system. Fortune is yours.' + + Fuck you, deep scowl from he who wears the vans. Bullet +in the eye to suppress the man who could bring the end to the lie. + + Shoes sure look battered. + + Knowledge is power, keep them ignorant, keep your power. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0518.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0518.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1ca0ee33 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0518.txt @@ -0,0 +1,143 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Metamorphosis + ------------- + +"That'll be 13 bucks even, buddy." + +I peel out a ten and a five and hand it to the driver. Sometime i have +them wait, but something tells me that I won't a cabbies services for +a while today. "Thanks and have a good one.", I reply. + +"Hey same to you," he says as I close the cab door. + +I fold my newspaper up under my arms, and stare at the sky for a second. +It is a perfect day. I couldn't ask for anything better. Not a cloud to be +seen. At least Mother Nature will not interrupt my search for solace. + +It is May 30th, 1998. I am standing on the road side to lot 8 at the Fort +Logan National cemetery. My mother is buried out here. So is a piece of my +soul. The time is 10:56. In exactly 4 minutes it will have been 3 years +since I buried my Mother. I don't mean for it to sound selfish, as if I +was the only one here or anything. My family was here. My father, sister, +extended family and so on, but I felt like I took the weight of the world +on my shoulders those 3 days after she died. I took care of everything. +From the selection of the casket to finding a Jewish Rabbi that would +perform a ceremony for a non-jew, which was no mean feat, to finding six +people who would do my the honor of carrying my Mother to her final resting +place. O am not sure when I chance to grieve or if I ever really did. A +sadness still haunts me. + +I walk into the neatly organized rows of finely polished marble head stones. +They are all identical. Military organization, I would imagine. Frankly I +like it that way. No creed or monetary standards established. Everybody the +same. + +I have never bothered to memorize exactly where my Mothers head stone is. I +like to walk among the other head stone. I like to see the things that have +been left behind. I stop at one with a bouquet of flowers and a small Mickey +Mouse statuette. A smile comes across my face. I remember the funeral for +a moment. I wore a Mickey Mouse tie to the funeral. My Grandmother was +appalled. Personally, I think that my Mother would have loved it. Sometime +I think that too much seriousness is attached to Death. Apparently someone +in CPO John J Poey's family agrees. + +I walk down a few more rows and across some head stones. I see various +things left behind. About one in every five headstones have something there +by it. Flowers are the predominant item left behind. A smattering of flags +and pictures and odds and ends are arranged, with obvious care, near and +around many of the headstones. + +It is 11:01 and I find my Mother. I see the words "Everyone please be +seated. We are gathered here today not to mourn, but to remember a Wife, +Mother and most importantly a woman that was important to all gathered her +today." I look down and see Penelope J McDonald. Born Dec 23 1946 Died May +30 1995. There is a touch of grass stain near the bottom of the head stone. +The smell of the fresh cut grass permeates the air. I never lived in a house +with a lawn. I always associate this smell with my Mother. + +"I miss you," I say as I start to choke up. I reach into my back pack and +take out a couple of pictures. There is one of my dog, who she left behind +in my care. I take out a postcard of various animals from a zoo. She always +loved animals and always had them around. Finally I take out a picture of me +at my last vacation. This is simply a reminder that I have chosen to live +my life instead of feel sorry for myself. I place then side by side and they +stretch almost the width of the stone. Finally i take out a newspaper and +sit down in front of her stone. + +I have taken to reading a newspaper to her. I tell her the stories of the +day. I don't believe in God, but she did. I feel as though when I read to +her, I am reminded that she is in a better place. A place free from Human +Tragedy, Suffering, and Mistreatment. She is in a place when Money and +Greed are not God. A place where there is no worries about where the next +meal is going to come from or people are taken advantage of. She is in a +place of eternal bliss and harmony. At least that is what i choose to +believe. + +I read most of the main section. I skip over most of the rest of the paper. +I place the rest of the paper back in my backpack, and take out a chocolate +bar. A Hersheys with Almonds. Her Favorite. I place it on the top of the +headstone. I KNOW that she will never taste it or eat it, but I know that +she would have appreciated it. + +It is 12:18. he funeral would have been over by now and we all would have +been gathered at a Denny's down the road. I would have been climbing the +walls dying to get out of there. Away from all of those people. People who +didn't know my Mother like I did. People who didn't see my Mother suffer +those last few terrible weeks. People who only came to respect the dead, +not to celebrate my Mothers life. I don't remember much from that lunch. +The only thing that sticks out to me was some unknown Aunt who, as I was +getting up to leave asks "Are you going back there today?" + +I replied "Yes I need to get the flowers to the resting area." + +She grabbed my hand and before I knew what was going one she pressed some +money into my hand. "Would you please get her some flowers for me when you +get a chance." + +I don't know if the embarrassment shone thru like a lighthouse on a clear +night. All I know is that I lost all respect for humanity. I was never so +ashamed for another person. I didn't say a word. I didn't buy the flowers. + +It is 12:20. I have been here for over an hour. "Mom, I saved your favorite +for last. I never understood how a woman of God could ever like horoscopes. +Maybe you say the humor in them that I see. Anyway here is ours. "Today is +a day to be strong. You will undergo a great change in your life." I start +to laugh out loud. + +"Well Mom, I think that they are about three years too late." + +I gather up my things, and sling my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks Mom. +Thanks for reminding that this life is too live." + +I check my pocket for a quarter and make my way towards to main building. +I've got a cab to catch. + + +skmcd +skmcd@sni.net + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0519.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0519.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..16f88374 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0519.txt @@ -0,0 +1,325 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + what would have inevitably happened had i gone out tonight + ---------------------------------------------------------- + + + "it's our last show." + + my cousin was inviting me to come see his band play for the last time. + though not exactly my style, i still enjoyed seeing them perform, and what + better time to see them than their last show before breaking up? + + "when should i be over?" + + "within the next half-hour. the guys should be here any minute." + + i had plans today. my ex-girlfriend and i were supposed to go to a + local town filled with homosexuals and headshops and indie record stores. + she never called. i was angry. i was tired. i worked 68 hours this week. + i didn't have the energy to do anything at 5:30p.m. - especially not go see + a show 45 minutes away, which would guarantee my arrival back home at 11:00 + at the earliest. yet, i thought of my ex, who was probably out doing + something, obviously not thinking about me, and having fun. i was angrier, + and even more tired. + + "alright," i said. "see you in 10." + + ----- + + i pulled up to his familiar house and shut off the car, grabbing my + ever-present raspberry snapple and ever-necessary pack of cigarettes, walked + up to the door, did the greetings, and went to his room. + + "they're not here yet," he said. "i learned something on guitar. + check it out." + + he started playing, far better than i ever could even though we started + learning the guitar at the same time. it was a song i had never heard and + would probably never like, though i still praised him for playing it well, + because he did. "sounds nice," i commented. "what's it called?" + + he told me the name of the song, the band, which members were in which + bands before this one, etc. i wasn't listening. i was thinking about my + ex, thinking that she might be calling my house right now, ready to + apologize, giving acceptable reasons for our complete lack of contact for + the past week. + + "can i use your phone?" + + "uh.. sure," he said, annoyed that i had interrupted him but still + understanding why. + + while i was dialing the phone, his band walked in. my sister informed + me that nobody had called for me. i was angrier, and i was ready to go to + this show that i had no energy to go to. maybe the ex would call when i was + 45 minutes away, while i was totally inaccessible, and realize that my life + didn't revolve around her. ah, yes. a brilliant plan. + + "when are we leaving?" i asked. + + "now," they said in unison. + + "okay." + + ----- + + the drive there was uneventful, the vocalist for the band steering and + blasting the music that i had never heard and would probably never like. i + sipped my snapple and caressed my cigarettes, anxious to arrive so i could + light up. + + i made a mental note to add an entry to my journal, which would later + read as follows; + + sunday, 02/22/98 - 1:07a.m. + + i have listened to this same song over and over and over since i got home. + work was especially slow today and yesterday too. i am ignoring somebody + that is talking to me but not to be mean they are just talking a lot and i + don't want to. i miss a lot of people, i have been thinking too much and i + am going to sleep tonight with wet hair i have only done this two other + times in my life. maybe a change is coming, bye + + ----- + + finally a cigarette. the show was at some kid's house. his parents + had night jobs so he apparently had bands play in his basement while they + were gone and he'd clean up before they'd come home. i wondered why the + suburbs had this effect on people, but not for long, because i was tired. + + the basement was big, bigger than mine; high ceiling, low people, they + all looked silly, didn't really talk to me. i noticed a phone in the corner + while i helped carry the band's gear in, but instead of giving in to + temptation, i went to sit against a side wall to wait for the show to start. + + everybody was fawning over some stupid fucking dog. i scratched my ass + and fumbled for my cigarettes, lit one and reached for my snapple. + + "please don't smoke in here," somebody said. i didn't look at them but + i heard them. + + i nodded and put it out in the dirt of a plant's pot sitting on a + small wooden stand beside me. + + "yo, dude, what are you doing? don't put that in the plant!" + + i knew i wouldn't like anybody there, i knew nobody would like me, i + knew and i went anyway, out of spite. with a groan, i got up and walked + outside, stood in the middle of the street and had a cigarette in peace. + + --- + + they started playing. i was in the same spot, on the floor against the + wall. my ass hurt because the floor was hard, but i was too tired to care. + i was the only person sitting. i had stood for a few minutes but it was + too difficult. + + i glanced over at the phone. nobody was using it. + + then it came. it always happened like this. the tips of my fingers + started tingling and my breath started getting shorter. my head was + ringing, my legs started trembling. my body temperature dropped quickly. + the band's music started sounding more and more distant. then i blacked + out. + + --- + + "yo, dude, what the hell are you doing?" + + the voice was distant, but i still recognized it as the same one that + had chastised me for smoking earlier. a female voice, a bit raspy, highly + annoying. had i the energy i would have throttled her right then and there. + i was slowly, slowly regaining consciousness. i realized the band was still + playing. it was the same song. for some reason, the fact that my cousin + had no idea what had just happened to me made me even more uncomfortable. + he was trying his best not to hit the wrong strings and i was doing my best + not to get sick all over myself. + + "what did you come here for if you were just going to sleep?" the same + voice asked. i opened my eyes and looked at her. + + she had a "hitler hairdo." thanks to radiohead, i had recognized it. + all eyeshadow and short hair and dockers. pouty lips, clenched jaw, + genuinely frustrated with me. her hands were pressed on her hips in what + she had hoped was an imposing posture, i'm sure. + + "i wasn't sleeping," i said. + + "what?!" she screamed. she couldn't hear me. the music was too loud + and my voice was too weak. i motioned for the door, started crawling + towards it for some fresh air. nobody saw except for her, and she followed, + no doubt in an attempt to mercilessly yell at me some more. i remember + vaguely wondering if she was a screamer in bed. such absurd thoughts tend + to happen often after a panic attack, what with your brain in disarray. + + outside, i gasped, almost threw up. "why were you sleeping?" she + repeated, slamming the door behind her. + + "i wasn't sleeping," i said, catching my breath. + + "well then what were you doing? why would you come to a show if you're + just going to sleep? you think that band up there feels like playing to an + unconscious audience?" + + obviously this girl had nothing in her life to be passionate about. + she also hadn't realized that i had arrived with the band, but i didn't + bother mentioning it for no other reason than i was concentrating on staying + alert. the roaring in my head was fading. + + "i wasn't sleeping," i repeated. "i passed out." + + i realized my folly the moment the words left my lips. i had forgotten + in my disorientation that i was at a house full of straight-edgers. she was + about to remind me of it by proving once again that she had nothing to be + passionate over. + + "so you're drunk then? you think the guy who lives here wants drunk + people in his parents house?" + + his parents probably don't want you or your friends at their house + either, i said to myself inwardly. "i'm not drunk," i pointed out. + + without warning, reason, or sense, she bent down and shoved her tongue + in my mouth, our teeth grinding. there was such a sense of urgency in her, + and such a lack of strength in me, that i let it happen. when she was + finished i knocked her in the head with the palm of my hand. "you're a + horrible kisser," i said. "why did you put me through that?" i was in a + bad mood and, as with most people, i felt the need to spread it. + + and then, finally, i wretched. + + disgusted, she turned away. i rolled over and sat up. + + "i'm not drunk," i repeated. "please, can you go inside and get my + snapple?" my throat was burning. + + no response. she was being dramatic. "please," i said. she walked + back inside the house. i didn't care whether she got my drink or not. i + was too busy savoring the fact that i was alone, but it didn't last long. + she was determined to allow me no satisfaction. she slammed the bottle down + next to me. + + "thank you," i said in earnest. "seeya." + + "no, what happened?" she asked. "why did you get drunk tonight?" + + i was drinking the snapple and didn't answer her. she turned away + again, fumbling with her hair or something. i decided it was my turn to ask + questions. + + "why are you out here? did you come to the show just to stand out on + the back porch? you think that band up there..." + + she started crying then, and i realized who she was. she had had a + haircut. an ex-girlfriend of my cousin's. good. + + good. + + "he's been fucking some girl for like 3 months. sometimes they go down + to her parent's beach house in Maryland and screw for days on end. he's + happy now." + + she turned, ran into the house. through the window i noticed her + reaching for the phone, dialing, walking into the bathroom so she could + hear. + + i smiled, leaned back against the porch railing, lit a cigarette. i + rested my left arm at my side and it fell into the pool of vomit, but i + didn't care. + + ----- + + "did you like the show?" my cousin asked on the way home. + + "yes." + + ----- + + i walked into my side door, went through the kitchen, took a shower in + the bathroom. ran into my sister in the living room. "anybody call?" i + asked her. + + "yep," she said. + + she's always so difficult. + + "_who?_" + + "some girl." + + "who?" + + "i don't know. she was crying." + + my voice caught in my throat. so it _was_ a brilliant plan, mostly + because it had worked. she had appreciated my lack of presence. she had + thought of me. she gave a shit. i was important. thank you, world. + + "where was she?" + + "at some party you were at. she said she helped you in the back, + something about a snapple. she said you shouldn't drink." + + "oh," i said. my throat loosened, my stomach dropped, and i walked + upstairs, put on a CD. i didn't even wonder how she got my number. + probably my cousin. before i even got a chance to kick my shoes off, the + phone rang. i jumped, picked it up. it was my cousin. my fists clenched. + + "did you really like the show or were you just saying that?" + + i started writing in my journal. + + "i really liked it, but i'm not feeling well, and i'm going to sleep." + + i hung up the phone without waiting for a response, turned off the + ringer, hoping he'd understand like he always did. finished the journal + entry. i pledged not to take such things for granted from then on as i + climbed into bed. drifting off to sleep, i heard the phone ring in the + kitchen. my sister opened my door after a few seconds of silence. + + "the phone's for..." + + "tell her to fuck herself," i mumbled. + + "but it's not..." + + "i'm trying to SLEEP." + + "alright," she said, and closed the door. + + she closed the door. + + what a waste. + + i fell asleep in the same position two hours later, repulsed. + + ----- + + - styx + - dropdead@mindspring.com + - http://www.dto.net/~styx/ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0520.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0520.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a97aa8a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0520.txt @@ -0,0 +1,115 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Alongside the stranger in myself + -------------------------------- + +God, look at this. Such a long day. Long week. Life. Second. Was that a +second? God, they're too slow. Fuck. Fatigued like I've been at war for +years, but what have I done recently? I slept 'til 10 today... Shouldn't be +tired... Damnit. But then, maybe I HAVE been at war for years. +Guerrilla warfare. Gorilla warfare? Manila war fairs? God, so tired. God, SO +TIRED... + +There's so many of them... People. My adversaries, even when not +acquainted. I want to talk to her. And him. And that girl who seems to be +on the verge of tears. And that guy with the bleached-blond hair and the +Propagandhi shirt. But their heads all look away from me... I just made eye +contact with that girl, and she looked instantly away - as though put in a +position she didn't want to be faced with. You! Yeah, you, you bitch! Avoid +me...what disease do you take me for? No, you're right, I AM a disease. +Quarrantined like an infested rat. I should go back to the sewers. I live in +the sewers. My mind...what a fucking septic trammel. Fuck all of this. + +Fuck you, too. Yeah, you. Sure, don't talk to me. But I didn't talk to you. +You look so beautiful, though. God, I want to talk to you. I want it so +much. I want to fuck you - no, I just want to talk (fuck!) -- NO! TALK! +(FUCK!)..........If they only knew what I went through. That there +was a heart inside me just as capable of bleeding as the next...more so, +perhaps, as how could theirs be as lacerated as mine? They all sit there +and talk to each other and +laughsmilewavegiggletalksharespeakgazehugkisslove while I'm over here in +this dank corner choking on my emaciated emotions and trying not to cry +with my only companions being my thoughts. If they only understood- They DO +understand, they don't care. They know all about it. They can read your +thoughts. They can read your thoughts! + +Fuck you, no they can't. Yes they can. Ohmigod, they can. No they can't. +FUCKER! You're laughing at me, aren't you? Laughing 'cuz I don't know if +you can read my mind or not. Laughing at my internal debates you RAT-FIEND! +FUCKING SHIT-SCUM FUCKER! No, he can't read my thoughts. Neither can she. +They don't know. Their faces are too placid and naive. No, they're just +pretending. They all pretend. They're all tricking you, you dumb shit! +You're swallowing the hook so deep that they'll never get it out!! Dumb +bastard. What are you doing? Fucker. All of you. All of me! I'm such a +piece of shit, why don't I die? I don't want to live. I don't want to die. +I don't want /shut the fuck up! I want it all. I want nothing. Kill me, +dammit. Fuck me, dammit! + +I want your lips gyrating around my erect and stiff dick. Suck me dry; suck +out all the pain and emptiness. Make me feel free and good. NO! I just want +to talk. I want...I don't...know what I want. Fuck me. +FUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMENO!!!!! I want to talk. Nothing more. I want sex. Just to +talk. Talk with sex. Walk with Mex. Never been to Mexico...Tex Mex. Tex +Rex. The Far Side is funny. It sucks sometimes. I want to fuck it. What? +NO! NONONONONONONOONNONOONONO!!!!! + +STOP IT! STOP! I wish I could just cut that piece of my brain out. That +little perverse piece that thinks of nothing but sex while observing a girl +- even when I don't want it. That piece that randomly places the word +"nigger" into my head when I look at/think about black people even though I +hate racism. I abhor myself. I am not myself. I have no self. + +I want to fuck myself. THAT MAKES NO SENSE! FOR GOD'S FUCKING SAKE, STOP +IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No, not for God's sake. God doesn't fuck, there's no need +for anything to be for the sake of it. For God's sake. He fucks. He fucks +hard. He wants to fuck you. NO! WHAT? NO! NO NO NO! +GODDAMMITTNOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!! + +And she just looked farther away. She moved her leg out of my field of +vision, under that chair. She hates me! She can read my thoughts and they +disgust her and she hates me! But only if I look at her can I read them. No +all the time. You're always looking at someone, and when they read your +mind, they communicate telepathically with each other to discuss how much +they hate you. They hate you. You're a fuck. Fuck you. Me. The bird. That +tree. STOP RHYMING! Jesusfuckingchrist, why are you doing this? You're me! +Why am I doing this? Why am I me? Why? What twisted fiend would do this to +me? Why? Who? How? Fuck. + +Never. Shut up. No one cares. They don't care. Stop bothering them. But I'm +just thinking it...And they can read my thoughts - shit, they hate me more +now! More because I'm irritating them with my incessant confusion. They're +laughing at me! LAUGHING! FUCK YOU. LAUGH AT ME LIKE THAT. FINE. BE LIKE +THAT! Be like that... Leave me alone to regret myself and pine for arms. +For soft, gentle, kind but strong arms that can fill the vacuousness and +dam rivers. And dry rivers out to no more than memory. To fix what they can +reach, and give me the strength to fix what they cannot. + +Before my mind kills me, someone please extend their hand... + + +-agrajag + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0521.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0521.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cfa32225 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0521.txt @@ -0,0 +1,76 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + go away from my window + ---------------------- + +I made you all up. + +You are simply what I have invented to test myself. You are nothing more. +Every action you take, every word you speak, is centered directly at me, +purposefully aimed at me. I am the creator of you and all that you think +and do, nothing exists outside of me. Nothing takes place outside of me. +Nothing is understood or done outside of me. I create all events, and I use +these events to test myself, to better myself, to learn and to explore. And +you, well, you're nothing. + +I made you for a purpose. You're here to teach me things. Love, respect, +dignity, hatred, the uselessness of morals in contemporary society - all +things. You are instrumental in my development, nearly as instrumental as I +was in yours. + +I am living backwards in time. Perhaps I am in the recollective state of my +being, looking at the many mistakes, correct postulates, rash assertions, +and deep and meaningful relationships that existed in my life. Maybe I'm +not living this moment and maybe I'm just imagining this in some kind of +twisted lucid dream. I can't be too sure + +So I'll just read my books, and drink my coffee, and eat my Chinese food, +and continue plodding along like I've done recently. I'll sift through the +malcontent of my mind, endlessly daydreaming in some kind of nearly drunken +stupor, contemplating myself and you. And contemplating the meaningless of +the existence of today and the days ahead. + +Man is an animal. Transcend man. Transcend yourself. Metamorphosize. Think, +read, and enjoy life. Enjoy the little intricacies and nuances of all the +petty and pathetic people, all the charismatic intelligent people, all the +people that you don't know, won't know, and don't care about. Live it up. + +So who's playing God? Who's asking the question? + +This is dedicated to my little asian princess, trapped in a tiny little +blue castle nestled in the clouds. So, how's the view? I think Hum +expressed it best, when they wisely noted: + +"I've got nothing to lose, nothing like her left to lose." + +"Another drink my love will make it tall enough so I can stand on it and +see, all you've done for me." + +Don't fall from grace. + + +-dropco + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0522.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0522.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a6777786 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0522.txt @@ -0,0 +1,120 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Concede + -------- + +(Prompted from the song Concede by: Sister Hazel.) + +Why do I even try to tell myself anything different? All guys are only in +my life to complicate and make things even more difficult. To delude me of +myself, and deprive me of my energy. + +Never before have I been so bitter against the opposite sex, never before +have I spoken so generally about any set group of people, and never before +have I found myself thinking more and more I am finally seeing the truth +behind the matter. + +Laying all the cards out of the table, I openly tell him exactly how I +feel. Those cards once out on the table can never be taken back, for they +have been laid and must remain played. However, it is up to him to lay out +his cards, or fold and leave. I thought I had finally gotten to the point +where I could lay all my cards out on the table, leave them and whatever +the other one chose to do, they could do, and I'd be fine with it. + +I am not fine with it. It irritates the hell out of me. Why does it seem +like that once you tell a guy that you have an interest in him, beyond +friendship and from that point onwards, he naturally assumes that that +interest persists until the end of time. Even when he and you seem to +break contact or go separate ways for the most part. Maybe he starts +detaching himself, so he won't get close, or maybe he acts like a jerk or +ignores you so you lose interest. Maybe there are thousands of maybes, and +I am sick of them all. Instead of asking why, and supplying an idea why +he might be acting that way, I either just ask straight out, or I just +leave him and go on about my life, as if he was not apart of it anymore. +If he ends up staying in my life, I am just as detached from the +relationship as he was previously and remains to be, while we are polite +acquaintances. No I am not fine with that. It irritates the hell out of me. + +Having laid all my cards out on the table, I had to give him the +appropriate amount of time, to decide, react, and do something (or do +nothing). Because of this, I let interests of a few others that I have +pass by, because I want to be sure to give him my all, if he decides he +feels the same way. Only to wind up having nothing at all - except less +energy and less of myself. The others have moved on, and I'm there left at +the table that has no players at it. + +Now I sit with cards in my hand and nothing on the table, only to have had +someone walk by and lay all their cards out on the table to me, and I only +talking about what I have in my hand of cards. No, I do not like it. It +irritates the hell out of me. + +I figured if he ended up pressing one of his interests other then me, I +would find out from him. If nothing else, from him talking about her. It +seems only logical that if he had a girlfriend I would know ... especially +since he such a big one for truth and practicality. Maybe that's why he +never thought of telling me. Or maybe he's just been too busy and he does +not have a real girlfriend and does not really realize how I feel. But how +can I let him know when I cannot even talk with him, really? Maybe there +are thousand reasons and I am sick of them all. I hate it, and it has +reached it's limit of irritating the hell out of me. + +Where do I go from here? Do I ever lay my cards out on the table, to be +played upon or picked up or left to lie there, or do I just hold onto them, +stay within myself and live my life to the fullest within my own walled world? + +Concede ... like anyone would really mean what the song says ... whenever I +have heard things like that, it all turns out to be lies and never lasts, +so why should I believe it anymore? + +I believed the last guy that talked with me about how he felt towards me +... he supposedly loved me oh-so-much, and wanted to spend his life with +me. Probably just saying that to see if he could fuck me. Building up +walls around him again, because I wanted to wait ... and now I am locked +out with no where to go, and no one keeping their word anymore - including +him. + +Why even tell me things like you have? Just keep it to yourself, because +sooner or later you'll end up not meaning it, right? No, I do not like it +and irritates the hell out of me. I hate being and feeling this way. I +want it over and done with ... but how do I that without leaving my heart +behind? + +Maybe it's titled CONcede because all the song's lyrics and times people +say those types of things it is some huge CON that they are pulling on +themselves and the other one involved ... and that's why it always fall +apart in the end. + +I am going to be writing a few things out, and I hope you read them all ... +maybe you'll learn something, maybe one of your great questions will be +answered, or maybe you'll just decide I am nuts or crazy and leave me the +hell alone. Maybe there are a thousand maybes and I am sick of them all. +I hate it and it irritates the hell out of me. + + +-Me, Myself, and I. + +07/08/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0523.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0523.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..82004bae --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0523.txt @@ -0,0 +1,128 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Inkblotting the Hoochies + ------------------------ + +I always hate seeing skinny little "hoochies" prancing around in short +skirts and low-cut tops. It must be wonderful to have a size three waist +and a flawless body. I don't have any idea what that's like. + +The ideal girl never wears the same outfit twice and owns at least 40 +pairs of shoes comprising of a pair of Nikes, sandals, and other footwear +which looks like something the Spice Girls would own. Her wardrobe is made +up of clothes made by brand name designers such as Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph +Lauren, and Calvin Klein. Her favorite stores would include Wet Seal, +Contempo, Dillards, and any other place that sells the clothes of her +favorite designers. She'll pay any price for a pair of stylish jeans (which +range from $30-$50). She spends about two hours trying to find something to +wear to school. The tighter the shirt, the better. Push-up bras help draw +more attention to the chest by adding more cleavage. I suppose a girl likes +it when a guy isn't looking at her face when she talks but rather her +boobs. Her hairstylist is from France and her nails cost at least $20 to +create. She'll accept nothing but gold jewelry, which consists of rings and +charms, of which she wears on her gold necklace. She spends more time in +the mall than at her own home. Somehow she actually manages to use her cash +for things besides clothes. Her CD collection has a wide variety of rap, +R&B, and Hip-Hop. + +The only weight she ever gains is from the five pounds of make-up, which +she applies to her face to cover up her "imperfections." One zit is +definitely cause for missing a day of school. She must feel so horrible +about it that she makes herself sick. It must be so embarrassing for her +crush to see her with a tiny red dot in the middle of her forehead. + +Becoming a cheerleader is just another good excuse for wearing an illegal +length skirt and showing off her skinny, tan legs. Every respectable guy in +school has her phone and beeper number. She thinks her life is over when +she's single for more than one day. Virginity? Ha! She wants to have sex +with every cute guy she sees and couldn't care less about what he's really +like. Her idea of true love is if the guy is completely gorgeous, wears +expensive clothes like her, has a $30,000 car, and happens to make +two-second eye contact with her as he walks by, swinging the keys to his +Dodge Viper. They must be meant for each other. + +Her social group has a population of fifty or more and stand around +giggling and talking about guys they saw at the mall. The perfect dress for +a school dance costs about as much as a wedding gown and the chauffeur +might as well be driving around newlyweds. When her date arrives at the +door, she makes sure she's upstairs just so he can watch her as she +gracefully makes her way down the staircase. When the couple arrive at the +dance, she tries to make every other guy there jealous. + +Her grades average out to a C, and copies most of her homework assignments +off of some geek who would do anything for the attention of a beautiful +girl. She really knows how to manipulate the guys. In class, she sits and +writes love notes to her boyfriend and blows bubbles with her gum to stay +awake. Her handwriting is just as bubbly as her annoying personality. She +dots her i's with circles and her n's look more like giant rounded mountain +tops. + +Her purse contains the latest issue of Seventeen (but she only looks at the +pictures because of her low reading skills), a cute little address book +which she bought at Claire's Accessories, enough money to buy another +outfit (in case she spills Coke on the one she's wearing), and her +emergency make-up supply. Her most embarrassing moment was when some jerk +at school accidentally squirted ketchup on her brand new $60 cotton +chemise. She never spoke to the guy again. That must have been the worst +day of her life. Although, the day when she was rejected by a guy for the +first (possibly only) time must have also been very traumatic. + +She gets a kick out of telling everyone (especially guys and people larger +than her) how fat she is just so she can hear them say, "No, you're not +fat!" She loves the flattery and it really swells her ego. She'll only +drink a diet beverage, no matter how anorexic she looks. Ice cream is +against her religion and she makes a habit out of reading the nutrition +facts on boxes in front of people. + +Her room is plastered with posters of Leonardo DiCaprio, movies including +Leonardo DiCaprio, and articles from magazines about Leonardo DiCaprio. +Also, you can find pictures of Tiger Woods, Hanson (depending on how +pathetic she really is), various rap artists, and tacky stickers. She +despises anyone who listens to "uncivilized" music such as punk, +alternative, and metal. + +When she's bored, she likes to talk about people she hates and criticizes +they way they look, dress, and act. She thinks she's right about everything +all the time, no matter how much she lacks of intelligence. Anyone that's +ever disagreed with her is an automatic enemy. Of course, the world +revolves around her. How could anyone be so foolish to think otherwise?!? +She strives to keep her reputation flawless. She's always been the one to +end a relationship, or else her pride may be hurt and she'd end up being +paranoid about other people thinking she's a loser. She likes playing +dumber than she really is (which is not by much) and she can always be +identified by her irritating, high-pitched laugh. She makes stupidity an +art form and practices it everyday. + +It just makes me want to hurl. I really feel sorry for people like that. + +This is a basic description of any prep/wigger girl. And I hate them. Not +just the girls, but the guys too. They suck and need to get a life. +Hopefully, this will help people see the light and understand that being a +prep or a wigger only shows one's stupidity and ignorance. If you are one, +SCREW OFF! Thanks. Have a nice day. + + +InNaTiC + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0524.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0524.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..97a5f8bf --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0524.txt @@ -0,0 +1,98 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Gripes From a 23 Year Old Woman + ------------------------------- + + Listen up good. No. Pay attention to me. Lean in real close. I + want to tell you a secret or two. + + Just because I work in computers does not mean that I want to + solve your stupid problems for you. Write me a check and then + we'll talk. + + Do you *really* think that you are the first person to ask me + if it hurt to get my nose pierced? I didn't think so. Use your + brain for just two seconds. Piercings are accomplished with a + hollow coring needle designed to enter flesh. Do you think + that hurts? Uh-huh. Don't get me started on the tattoo. + + If I am writing something in a notebook, why the hell do you + think I want to tell *you* what it is? If I wanted to tell + you, I would open my mouth and form words and skip over the + whole dead tree thing. + + Quit handing the change over to the guy I am with when *I* pay + for something. The year is 1998. Not 1947. + + Do I ask *you* about the particulars of your eating habits in + restaurants? If I want to eat a plate of lettuce with no + dressing and cow dung on the side, that is my business. Shut + your trap and eat your own meal without openly dissecting + mine. + + I don't care if you quit smoking cold-turkey and started + running 10 miles a day after you freed yourself of the + nicotine demon. I smoke. You don't. Get out of my way before + rub ashes into your eyes. + + If I wanted you to know where I got my jewelry, my tee-shirts, + my hair clips, or anything else adorning my body, I would + never have removed the tags. + + If I get one more piece of spam from you, I will find you and + kill your dog by forcing it to eat your computer whole. Then I + will do the same thing to you. + + I *know* I haven't updated my web page in 6 months. I write + it, don't I? Get a fucking life. + + If I order popcorn and a diet Coke and then brandish a 10 + dollar bill in front of your face, what in the free world + would possess you to ask me if I want candy? If I wanted + candy, I would ask for it. + + No. I don't want new long distance, theater tickets, or a + newspaper. I don't want to donate money to the Police Against + Drugs Foundation. I don't want to sign your petition or answer + your stupid survey questions. And I definitely don't want to + give you a cigarette. What part of my unsmiling and generally + annoyed expression are you interpreting as "open to + soliciting?" + + Fix your fucking ATM machine or get it out of your store. If + you can't keep it running for more than a day then it is of no + discernible use to me. + + Please stop making my drinks weaker than my male companions' + drinks. Just because I am short and have breasts does not mean + that I am also a natural lightweight. + + Have a nice day. + + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0525.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0525.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..dcb7f306 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0525.txt @@ -0,0 +1,164 @@ +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + This is your brain on life + -------------------------- + +A mind is a terrible thing. If you have one, they'll try to waste you. + +My mind has always kept me down. I got a 1340 on my SATs in seventh grade. +Goody for me, right? Well, instead of that getting me ahead, it got me +beaten up. I don't mean once, I mean on a daily basis. I was a punching bag +for every bully in my school. Although most of them told me my smart mouth +had something to do with it, too. After the first two weeks of daily +beatings, it actually seemed to be helping me, if you can believe that. I +didn't cry when they hit me. I didn't start hitting them back at that +point, but their punches didn't seem to phase me anymore. They gave up on +me, and seemed to forget about me and move on to new prey. Then it +happened. There was this girl named Mari who I had the crush on for the +longest time, but of course she dated one of the bullies. While walking +through the halls during my study hall period, I saw him hit her. He *hit* +her. Not a slap, mind you, a punch. He *hit* her. + +I wasn't to stand for such shit. I walked up to her, she was on the ground +crying, him standing over her, and now telling me to "back the fuck away". +He tried to push me as I bent over to help her up. Once she was off the +ground, I put my arm around her and tried to help her walk away. He grabs +me by the shoulder and I turn away. + +"What's this, pussy?," he says to me. + +He hits me. In all the days he and his friends beat me, He had never hit me +like this. I fell over, and could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Fuck +this. I got up, and hit him back - twice in the face, three more times in +the stomach. It was like all the rage I had ever felt came out on him. He +was on the ground now. The bell had just rung, and all the rest of the +school came filing out of their classes. I could feel them staring, I could +hear them laughing. But I didn't stop. I began kicking him in the stomach, +and continued to do so until two of the security guards pulled me away. I +was later told I broke two of his ribs. And aside from a black eye and 3 +weeks of In School Suspension, I emerged unscathed. + +The next year and a half, I was not fucked with. Good thing right? + +Then comes Freshman year. Its like you fight so hard to get to the top of +your school, and then the system forces you to start all over again. But +it's a good thing too. A fresh start. I deliberately picked a high school +that I knew none of the people from my school were going to. Here I wasn't +a brain. I was a Freshman. + +Soon enough I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. My freshman year was +mostly forgotten in a haze of refer and the smell of boiling heroin. I lost +sixty pounds though, and was no longer the fat kid. That's really the only +plus I can think of from my freshman year. + +But I promised myself that my sophomore year was gonna be different. I went +to all my classes. But the hour a day of student assistance in the computer +lab, and being on the school newspaper, really helped me through the day, +but at the same time it hurt me. Ms. Lyons was the head of the computer +lab, and I knew so much more than she. I set up the whole lab within the +first week, while she asked what I was doing. But yet again, brains get me +in trouble. I was asked to conference with one of the administrators. He +informed me that the school has a list of "known Hackers". He then went on +to explain that the purpose of this list was so "if there are any problems +with any of our computers or phones, we go to you first." This statement +was horrible enough. Then he tells me "you're going on this list." + +WHAT?!?!? So because I am smarter than you, because I am smarter than my +teachers, I am a suspect in a crime that hasn't even been committed?!? + +I told him not to do that. +He said he was going to anyway. +I told him to get to fuck. +He told me that I would get a week of ISS for that statement. + +Despite the fact that I kept trying to get this story in the school paper, +we are censored again and again. Funny how the administrator who told me +I'm on the list, is the same one who gets the choice of what gets censored +and what doesn't. + +Then I decide to run for class president. The gal who I'm running against +has been president both Frosh and Soph years. I want to be it junior year. +So I run. First I get kicked out for running a "slanderous campaign". +Their definition: I made the statement of "I think our class needs a +change." I complain and make a stink, I get back in, much to her dismay. +After all, it was her and her student council cronies who decided to kick +me out in the first place. + +Within a week, I get kicked out again. This time I don't get an +explanation. I am called into a conference with the principal. + +"You're out of the election." +"What?! Why?!" +"We don't feel that you're the best choice for our school, or for your class." +"Well, isn't that for my class to decide on election day?" +"You're out of the election." + +Fuck her. I kept putting up posters, only adding "WRITE ME IN!" on the +bottom. They don't stop me. + +Election Day comes, and several people tell me they wrote me in. The gal's +name isn't on the ballot. Because when I was kicked out, they named her +President. Out of a little over 200 ballots, 183 have my name written in. + +I was what the people wanted. I won. I played by their rules, despite the +fact that they tried to handicap me, and I still won. Of course I wouldn't +be allowed to serve. Apparently votes aren't what win elections. + +I took the pussy way out. I forwarded the gal's phone to a 1-900 sex line +and handed out the number around school, and turned the principals phone +into a pay phone. That'll learn 'em. + +Now it's the summer between my sophomore and junior year. I got fired +recently because of my morals. I was working as a telemarketer at a place +that sold credit card security. Because it was my first month I was +supposed to read the script verbatim, but in a rebuttle it said that if a +customer asked "How would someone get my credit card info?", I was supposed +to say "There are malicious criminals called hackers that will stop at +nothing to get your information." I refused to say it. I refused to help +perpetuate a myth. And besides, it seemed I didn't need to. The quota was +three sales a day, and I was making at least 4 or 5 a day. But the boss was +monitoring, and when I didn't read the script, he called me to his office +to talk to me. More specifically, to fire me. + +So I am skulking back to my cubicle to gather my stuff and go, when I see +my supervisor going through my briefcase. He says it's to make sure I +didn't steal anything. He pulls an issue of 2600 out and thrusts it in my +face. + +"What the fuck is this? Are you stealing credit card numbers?!" + +I was shocked. just because, I read about hackers, because I support the +cause (I'm not even a hacker!), I am supposed to be a thief?! It seemed as +though he had believed the shit we were supposed to spew on the phones. I +took my mag, and my briefcase, and stormed outta there. + +A mind is a terrible thing. If you have one, they'll try to waste you. + + +~Tuxedo Mask +If I had a Tux sense, I think it would be tingling right about now. +TuxedoMask@Cyberdude.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0526.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0526.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..763860df --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0526.txt @@ -0,0 +1,89 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + You Are Not Better, You Are Different + ------------------------------------- + +Hey you. Yeah, you. You in the posh corporate office. You wearing the +$2,000 suit. Why do you look at me like that? With utter disgust mixed in +with mocking laughter. Are you so much better than I? Your little Worker +Bee? The pawn on your corporate chessboard? The insignificant fly on your +wall? + +Fuck you. + +Yes, fuck you. Fuck you for assuming you could try to control my thoughts +and my life. Fuck you for playing your numbers game while sitting behind +your polished desk drinking a martini. Fuck you for thinking I would put +up with it. + +What's that? My vulgarity offends you? Why must I express myself with +words like "fuck"? + +Your very existence offends me. Your fat lazy ass that has had everything +handed over on a silver platter. Your over-inflated ego boosted by your +rich parents that bought you everything you ever wanted. Why must you +express yourself by toying with others lives? Stepping on anyone you have +to for that next promotion. + +Fuck you. + +Am I so worthless because I don't have a Mercedes? Because I don't have a +college degree? Because I don't have this picture perfect family to show +off at company picnics? Your wife is fucking your latest hire. How's that +picture perfect family now? + +Am I below you for not having a rich family? For not catching the breaks +when I needed them? I think not. We are different, but you are no better +than I. I pity you. I pity your worthless existence. I pity your +pseudo-love that you have with your wife. I live in reality. You live in +fantasy. In my world, what's broken is broken. What's gone is gone +forever. In your world, everything is fixed, or was never broken in the +first place. You refuse to see the truth. You think if you ignore it long +enough, it will go away. + +_I_ will not go away. I will not forget how you treated me. I will not +forget the mess you tried to make of my life to further your own career. + +I will not forget. + +I WILL NOT FORGET. + +I will always remember the contempt you showed me. The lack of compassion +when I asked you for help. The hidden sneer in your eyes as you refused to +assist me. + +Fuck you. + +Fuck your warped reality. + +Fuck your distorted values. + +Your day will come, and I will be there to watch. And to see you fall. + + +-DBR + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0527.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0527.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..75381087 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0527.txt @@ -0,0 +1,99 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Napolean In Rags + ---------------- + + 3 dollars on my desk. Coffee sitting just out of the reach +of my left hand. Tiedye fashioned incense burner juts out of the desk, +half burned stick dangling in the air. A book of matches, perhaps ten +or twelve remain, lies discarded in the pile of other useful filth +occupying the space in front of me. + + Occasionally these days I'll mediate. Breath in for five, +out for five, lather, rinse, repeat. I've been wanting to do some +reading on transcendental meditation, but that's besides the point. +In my meditation, I often have a reoccuring visual image of a high +mountain peak, steeped in a rim of brilliant light case of the petals +of thousands of turquoise and red flowers. A river flows near by, +and a fair breeze blows. + + Then all hell breaks loose. Blood spills. The wrists of +a thousand suicides rain in torrents from the sky. A thousand +villages are burned. A bomb rips through a federal building. A +murderer escapes from a high security prison. + + Breath in for five seconds. + + Sometimes I wonder if I'll go insane. Once in a great while, +I'll repeat all of the multiplication tables in my head, unyielding +for an hour or more. I watched Dead Poets Society, well, perhaps a +half hour of it, never have finished the movie, a little bit yesterday. + + Breath out. + + Been doing some work on dreams. I think Thoreau or some +other noted character once said that 'Dreams are the gateway to the +soul.' Well, if that's true.. I've had some odd dreams lately. +Immediately upon waking I would reach down and pick up a journal +where I would proceed to write them down for later analysis. I've +found some very odd things. I've dreamt of everything from two +Italian guys sitting in a diner and discussing the price of ham, +to meeting the Antichrist in an airport. It's a wonderful life. + + Doing some reading as well. Read a little bit of the +Rise and the Fall of the Third Reich before I moved on to something +else. My attention span hasn't been what it used to be these days. +It seemed that in his early years, Hitler was a drifter, much like +what seem to be the lonely soles of the writers of FUCK. Wandering +the streets, a vagabond, a pseudo-intellectual, easily misguided +by biased writing, a hopeful artiste. + + Picked up the Grapes of Wrath the other day as well. +Very good book, supposedly one of Steinbeck's best. We'll see. +So far, I've followed the misadventures of a Tom Joad, convicted +of murder and out on parole, to find his depression ridden family +out in the country, and have had the time to watch with a sort've +put off anxiety, their trip to the golden state of California. +Oranges will hang from every tree and they'll be some shade for +the hard working American man. + + Ahh, the plight of the migrant farm worker. Dwindling +away in his corn fields, hoe in hand, barn twenty five paces away, +pigs snorting, roosters crowing. Inbred children, three legged +dog, pumping the well with all his might. Have to tend to alot +of crops to afford his expensive cocaine habit. + + And so, the sun still creeps up over the horizon at +dawn, the moon still shines overhead at night, some annoying +ass crickets still chirp outside my window until the daylight +hour, chipmunks still scurry around in the woods, and another +file comes to an end. + + +-dropcomm/descend + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0528.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0528.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5d4ba1f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0528.txt @@ -0,0 +1,161 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Precedence: Junk + ---------------- + + I am tired of spam. Usenet spamming has rendered +that formerly animated and interesting discussion forum +close to useless. E-Mail spamming has transformed the act +of checking for new mail from an enjoyable activity into +an exercise in irritation. Chat spamming has turned into an +intrusive and constant source of harassment. Essentially, +all forms of real-time or near real-time interaction on +the Internet have turned into spam turf, where the user +is forced to use their software to somehow filter out or +ignore as much of the abuse as possible. + + There are stages of spam irritation. After your +web site goes up, or you hop onto IRC, or you post an +article on Usenet, spam starts trickling in. At first there +are a few pieces a week, which most new spamees simply +send to the bit bucket without fluttering an eyelid. +Not a big deal. Then the spam begins to increase until +you are receiving a piece or two a day. You begin to +notice some of the spammers' more annoying tactics - +mail with subject lines like "about that information you +requested..." or "loved your web site!" that force you +to actually read the first few lines before you realize +that this is nothing more than junk mail. Anger begins +to surge within you over the fake return addresses and +misleading subject lines. You whip out your dusty mail +filtering software and start trying to avoid reading the +spam. Soon you realize that you can't win with filtering +software - spammers change domains, source addresses, +headers, and content daily if necessary. You change your +e-mail address to joe+spambites@domain.com for all Usenet +posts and web sites, but it's too late - they already have +your real address. By now your spam has swelled to 60% +of your daily incoming mail. You learn to read headers +and start sending spam complaints to postmasters, root, +and the Federal Trade Commission. The spam continues to +mount. Then you realize that you are spending up to an +hour a day dealing with spam complaints, filtering, and +modifying your e-mail address and decide that all this +headache is just not worth it. Back to grudging deletion, +right where you started. It's a circle, and Internet users +just can't win with the tools that are currently available. + + That said, I don't think that spam necessarily +needs to stop. Spam, UCE, bulk e-mail, or whatever it +is called, should go on as a method of communicating with +potential customers on the Internet in much the same way +junk snail mail continues. In it's current form, however, +most spamming makes me want to personally draw and quarter +the asshole on the other end of it. If only these jerks +would take a hint from junk mailers they might actually +get *more* customers. There are a few reasons why I don't +mind standing at my mail box with the trash can next to +me while I sort through junk mail. + + First of all, I do not directly bear the entire +cost of receiving junk snail mail. I get it, I throw +it in the trash if I am not interested. I feel a small +amount of satisfaction because that junk mailer had to +give the USPS money to send the mail. They had to pay for +paper. They had to pay someone to design and print the +catalog/brochure/flyer. All I had to do was throw it away +and send a check to my trash removal service. Fine with +me. Spammers, on the other hand, make my ISP store their +crap on their hard drives, pay their upstream provider +for eaten bandwidth, and dole out salaries to the support +people that have to deal with spam complaints. Then the ISP +has to charge me more to cover their costs. Even worse, +some users still actually have to pay hourly rates for +time spent online - time spent downloading junk mail. All +the spammer has to do is get a 14 dollar a month Internet +account, write the e-mail, and send it. This is not a +reasonable relationship - the business should have to work +harder and spend more money than the potential customer +to get new business. Period. + + Secondly, I am usually getting junk mail because +I have been targeted in some way. The ratio of junk snail +mail I get that is pertinent to me is good - about 80% of +the junk snail mail I receive a day is in some way related +to my profession, hobbies, or interests. Sometimes I +actually buy things, sign up for subscriptions, or in some +way acknowledge those offers because it is obvious that +the junk mailer has done some research into my demographic +and attempted to send me something that I would actually +care about. Therefore, I am obviously more likely to +buy into whatever it is that they are selling. Not so +with spammers. I hate spam - why would I want to buy a CD +with 50 million e-mail addresses on it? I could care less +about child porn. Why then would a spammer ask that I pay +20 bucks a month to view it? Which brings me to another +point. Snail mail cannot contain illegal or fraudulent +offers - it brings on heavy penalties. Most spam is +fraught with this sort of crap, which makes all UCE look +bad. (Hint to legitimate companies - fight against these +people, or the stuff you send will be illegal, too.) I have +a tip for all you spammers - do you want to get a better +return on your spams? Target, target, target. Pissing a +bunch of people off who could care less about buying your +golf balls only hurts your reputation and makes it harder +for you send mail in the future. Get a fuckin' clue. + + If I absolutely hate the junk snail mail I am +receiving, I can usually find a legitimate return address +to complain to. In a lot of cases I have actually been +thanked for asking to be removed from a mailing list - +many junk mailers would prefer not to waste money on +customers who will never buy anything from them. Spammers +have turned the process of hiding themselves into an +art. Forged headers, false return addresses, untraceable +phone numbers, and P.O. box addresses all make it more +than difficult to get off their lists. They don't care if +you don't want their XXX pics or credit cleaning scams. Yet +they mysteriously want you to send them money. I don't know +about you, but I would *never* do business with a company +that doesn't care about me in the first place. That is why +I, after over two thousand spams received, I have *yet* +to purchase anything from a single one of these assholes. + + It all comes down to one thing. Spammers have +pissed off the Internet as a whole and have probably +ruined the chances of UCE ever getting a good name. It's +too bad. If I fill out a survey at 3com and give them my +e-mail address and demographic info, chances are I will +never see a single piece of UCE they send me because my +filter already threw their mail into the bit bucket before +it had the chance to slide past my eyeballs. And I might +have bought something, too. + + +demonika +demonika+fuck@demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0529.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0529.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2e21ffb9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0529.txt @@ -0,0 +1,107 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Reflections + ----------- + + I traveled around this weekend. Far and wide in one of those +characteristically big American cars. It was a Ford, the manifestation of +the American industrial adventure. We had two places to reach: The Crow +Fair, a huge assembly of North American Indians, and the Little Bighorn +Battlefield. Both places associated with very strong emotions and +traditions. At the end of the weekend, the only emotion I had was a strong +feeling of disgust. Disgust at man's hypocrisy and willingness to forget. + + The Little Bighorn Battlefield, not long ago known as Custer +Battlefield, held the last, great battle between red and white. Here died +hundreds of soldiers. Outnumbered 9-1 by the united might of the Sioux +nation, they were slaughtered by the Indians. Why? Foolishness and immense +arrogance on one side, despair and rage on the other. + + On those hills, two completely opposing mindsets met. One, an +officer of the U.S. Army, eager for a promotion, out to wipe the red devils +off the surface of the earth. The other, an Indian Chief, leading the last +remnants of his once great people in a last chance effort to protect their +land and way of life. One, a loser in school and else in civil life, a +coward, know to have been using women and children as living shields to get +out of battle. The other, an elder warrior, risen in the ranks because of +sheer courage, ability and wisdom. Custer and Sitting Bull. + + Custer controlled one cavalry, the other an entire people. Custer +was happy and cheered when he saw the Indian village. Two _miles_ of Tipis +in a wide valley. He decided to wipe them out in a stroke. Such incredible +arrogance. He was doomed, and he took his soldiers with him. The young +carpenter from Ireland who couldn't get a job in New York and joined the +army. The middle-aged man who was tired of working at the cotton fields in +the south, and sought a better life in the north. They gave their lives, +uselessly, in an unneeded and dirty battle, caused by greed alone. + + After the battle the Indians left and spread wide and far. They +knew they couldn't keep the fight up much longer. The white man had broken +his word, neglected his own treaties, chased them from front to front, till +there was nowhere left to go. They had been given "reservations", only to +discover that no borders mattered where gold was found. + + Today, the whole battlefield is closed area, sacred ground. There +is a huge stone-monument naming all the soldiers that died in the battle, +with Custer on top. All over the field, white stones stands to show where +dead soldiers were found. There is not one single object dedicated to the +Indians. Yes, an Indian memorial is in the plans, but I find it truly +appalling that it has taken so long. The memorial will also be raised well +below the soldier monument. You will be able to look down at it. + + The Crow Fair was interesting, but also disappointing. The +Indians of today has lost their way of life, and therefore also most of +their culture. They will never get a chance to regain their way of life, +and can thus not restore their culture. With few exceptions, they live on +the most infertile and useless land there is. The reservations serve no +other purpose than to fool them into the dream of restoring the good old +days. + + I love America. The vastness, diversity, the melting-pot of +cultures that it is. The ideas that founded the nation. The fine bonds that +has kept it mostly united throughout the years. But there are shadowy, +dark, sides of that story too. The Indians being merely a "good example". + + A ranger, part time history professor, at the Little Bighorn site, +said that looking back at this event, was like looking through a window. +Trough that window, you could see blood, greed, despair, all the worst in +man. Events that should be left behind, and not bother us again. And I +stare into that window. And I start to think. + + I think of 28 civilians killed by a bomb in Northern Ireland^kids. +Of ethnic-religious wars on Balkan. Of a growing Ku Klux Clan. Of 28% of +German youth denying Holocaust. Of a Middle East on the fringe of all-out +war. Of people saying that Vietnam was perfectly OK. + + And I start to fear. + + I fear that I am staring into a mirror. + + +Mithrandir + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0530.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0530.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..474349fd --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0530.txt @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + No Face + ------- + +I remember when I first read the very first post I ever saw you in ... I +knew then that you were someone I wanted to get to know better. It was +shortly after that day that we first started talking, and found out that +you were a brother to the guy that I was currently in a relationship with +... and that you were the same guy that one of my girlfriends had talked +about. + +As the weeks and months went on, we would talk about various things, and +gradually became very good friends. It was you who I'd call when I had +gotten into another fight with J., it was you who would always help me +through it, and it was you who was there for me. Even though, we were not +face to face, you opened your heart to me and gave me a shoulder to lean on +when I needed it the most. + +Now as the years have gone by, we have gone through other relationships +with various people, and even went on non-speaking terms for a while +because of it. But, now we are once again back as being friends. + +When I was feeling down and out, or just wanted to talk some time away, I +could always call you. You always managed to help me feel better, forget +about whatever, or just make it all seem a lot more manageable. We were +good friends. Each only able to describe each other as a "story", when +asked how we would describe each other in one word. + +It was you that were there for me, so many times. It was you who I +originally went down south to meet ... for the first time in five years of +knowing each other. After everything that we had been through, and +everything that we had shared, we now were going to meet face to face. As +the time neared you were scarce, but still swore that you wanted to meet. +As the day came, you were sick, and you were sick the whole time, and for +two weeks afterwards that I had been down there. We never met. Still you +have No Face. + +Now it having been a month since we could have met, we barely talk. I've +picked up the phone numerous times and tried to call you, but you were +always busy, or would call me back ... was it just to get me off the phone, +or are you really that absent-minded? When I sit down and think things +through, I'd say that you were just brushing me off, and wanted me gone. +But after all this time, would you really do that? And would you not just +have the guts to tell me that out-right? Why waste time playing games? +Neither of us feel that we have enough time to waste playing games, so why +does it feel like that is all this has ever been? + +Even though you have no face, in my memory or my mind, your heart is very +close to mine ... or so I thought. + +Maybe it's not so much you have No Face, more like you have No Guts or No +Heart or is it No Brain? Either way, I know that you will never have a +Face in my life, so it is these words that I say as we depart... + + +-Me, Myself, and I. + +07/23/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0531.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0531.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..220b39d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0531.txt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Afraid of the Ball + ------------------ + + I remember age 10, playing kickball at the + playground. + + I was picked last for the team, since I was neither + popular nor normal. The freshly mowed grass tickled + my allergies, and I wanted nothing more than to + plant my admittedly chubby butt in a swing and finish + reading Romeo and Juliet while I gently rocked back + and forth on the swingset. I was way out in the + field because I was afraid of the ball. I swore + to myself that the ball was naturally attracted + to my bulky frame through some gravitational trick + that could only be explained with a complex physics + formula, since I always managed to get slammed in + the face with it at least once in every game. I + didn't want to admit to myself that the magic was + probably the result of malicious intent from my + playmates. So I stood there, hands slightly curled + at my sides, waiting for the inevitable long kick + perpetrated by one of the more athletic boys with + a mean frown etched into his forehead. It came, + and even as I winced I raised my hands to catch + the orange projectile aimed right at me. Instead + it slammed me in the gut, and all of the air in + my lungs was expelled in one microsecond, and I + doubled over trying desperately to force oxygen + into my constricted throat, my wounded diaphragm + struggling to operate my lungs. + + I didn't cry. Not in front of them. I was + afraid of the ball, and it had hurt me, and I + couldn't trust it. At that point I realized that + I was being abused because of who I was, and that + there was no computational conspiracy against me. + Once I reached the point where I could elect my gym + classes, I always chose non team sports. Diving, + swimming, running.. As long as there wasn't a ball, + and the only person I had to count on was myself, + I wasn't afraid. + + Now I am older and less physically repugnant. Nothing + has changed. I am still afraid of the ball, afraid + of getting hurt, and nothing about the way I am + treated by anyone who supposedly cares about me has + proven me wrong. Yet. The glimmer of hope that I + secure within myself fades a little more each time + my parents decide to apologize for offering + assistance, or someone I love betrays me. It happens + more often than I care to admit. I dared a few to + toss me a good one, but I always end up 10 again, struggling + to breathe through the pain, cursing myself for offering + anyone the opportunity to injure me. But I plow on, + fingers slightly curled at my sides, waiting to catch + the next ball - one that will float as if by prophecy + into my waiting hands and nestle securely into my + palms. Someday soon, though, I will no longer stand + in readiness. Instead I will turn and walk away, + avoidance as armor. + + + demonika + demonika@demonic.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW *** http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck *** = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = += http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0532.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0532.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..aa632f93 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0532.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Synchronom + ---------- + +if there's one bit of simplistic information you're looking to gleam off +these pages but haven't understood anything yet, look no further. rest your +weary eyes and quaint little mind here, this won't require much thought at +all. this is the key to understanding about 90% of the world's thought. As +long as you develop the skill to see into it correctly, you shouldn't have +any problem. + +here it is: people think two things at once. One emotional set to fulfill +their ideal self (the top layer), and one emotional set to fulfill their +actual self (bottom layer). + +knowing what these two are is the tricky part. usually it'll be a balance of +short emotion and long emotion - that is, a person will show happiness but +have an underlying, more subtle display of hate within it (this is common of +people who think they are above hate). others will use the delay method, in +which an initial, shallow emotion is portrayed but if the person is an +unskilled 'actor' the true emotion will wiggle its way out in a few seconds. +it's easy to differentiate these two tolerances because the short will fall +back into stupidity, hate, or whatever else the person is hiding; the long +will fall back into ignorance (or simply won't fall back at all). look at +stephen king's books. that's all he does and he's fucking world renowned. he +knows where to place you, then go for the stab. knowing how to compromise +these layers is something i treat as an art form; it can be done with as +little as one or two sentences or can be stretched out over months. either +way, there is always a path to the person's mind, regardless of who they are +or what they have done. + +how can i prevent this from happening to me, you ask? well, the answer to +this is the answer i retain in each of my writings - tell the truth; the +real truth (see, i used a little double right there). when there's nothing +to hide, this trick won't have any function. unfortunately, 99% of the +world makes a habit of having an ideal self, so accept the fact that once +you master this, it can be used universally. + +now, i've opened the pandora's box for you all. did you really think such +an easy lesson of life wouldn't have its consequences? every one of you +that reads this and uses this double method is now going to develop a third +layer out of unconscious fear of being discovered. no, don't bother saying +'this guy's bullshit, i don't act like that', well, it's all unconscious; if +you have fear of yourself, it'll happen. your first ideal will be bumped up +to a nominal tolerance, your 'real self' will now be your pretend, and you'll +be placed at a higher skin. heh, and by saying this, a fourth layer will +emerge. see what i mean? the layers may merge into each other though as time +goes on - most people only have room for so much in their mind. + +look on the bright side - if you choose to act on this and turn the weakness +into a strength, you'll be able to use this over anyone else that hasn't seen +this piece of philosophy and be able to read them like a book. not only that, +eventually if this knowledge ever reaches the public, everybody will develop +this extra layer and society as a whole will adapt its culture around avoiding +this, must like how it has evolved into a retribution of the TV age currently. +what a wonderful place that will be. + +you might be asking yourself, "why did this pretentious fuck tell us this +then??" - i dunno. cause i can, i guess. it's a very human thing to do, so +might as well indulge my life and my mind while pushing the human race +a little further. + + +by Demi + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0533.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0533.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5ba80661 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0533.txt @@ -0,0 +1,80 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + High Standards + -------------- + +We (the family) are going to get rid of some of our chairs. They are +comfortable, and I'm sitting in one as I write this. Why? 'Cause it's a +little torn on the seat, and looks slightly dirty. I tried telling my mom +that they are perfectly good chairs. Here's the reason she gave me: + +"In society, there are some... understood standards. When people come in, +in nice clothing, they look at the chairs and they can't tell whether they +are clean or not." + +First off, I don't care to associate with people who don't like me because +of the way my furniture looks. They don't like it - they can buy me new +furniture. But, my parents aren't like that. And I understand, that to +have "nice" company, you have to have a good looking house. The problem +is, today, nice is associated with snob. To me at least. + +Second of all, some people can't even affords chairs. They have to save up +money for food. Sometimes they don't have enough money even for that. +Sometimes they go for days without food. And we're gonna throw away +perfectly comfortable chairs. Why not donate it to Goodwill? Mom says they +won't accept it. I think she means that they are too crappy. Excuse me? +Goodwill should be one of the last to be picky. I've seen old toys in +there, they are just one piece of plastic. The rest of the pieces are +probably in the other shelf, or in a dumpster or in a closet somewhere. +And they won't take our chairs. Well, fuck them. + +Humans are so wasteful, especially those who can afford to be. I remember, +Isaac Asimov (a great writer, one of my favorites) wrote a story. I forget +the title, but in it, people got rid of things. A dishwasher they had for +two months was thrown out. TV's were constantly being replaced. To speed +up the process of throwing away cars, bumps were installed in the road, +that forced people to accelerate in the right lanes up to the necessary +speed. Resources were being wasted like there was no tomorrow. If I were +born in that world, I'd go out, collect all the stuff, polish it and sell +it. People would throw it back out again, I'd get it, etc. I'd be a +millionaire. I'd be thought of as a freak and weirdo, but that's nothing +new. + +Next time, before you toss something in the trash can, think: can it be +recycled? Can it be sold, or donated to someone who needs it even though I +don't? Can it be reused for something in my own household? You can make +safety goggles out of 2 liter bottles. Cans can be recycled. Furniture and +clothing can be given to goodwill, or the family down the street. If you +think hard enough, you'll find something to do with it, other than lie at +the dump, waiting to dissolve among other waste. + +Think about it. + + +Canine + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0534.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0534.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b7c99306 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0534.txt @@ -0,0 +1,129 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Useful Techniques for Adding Amusement to any Vacation + ------------------------------------------------------ + +Vacations are fun. Airports are not a great deal of fun. To spice up +your next trip to the airport, try one of these handy techniques for +amusing yourself and the airport security personnel. I am certain your +visit to the airport will be more memorable. Note that most of these +techniques will work much better if you first prepare by wrapping a large +towel around your head before you leave for the airport. + + +The Questions and Answers +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +We have all answered these moronic questions dozens of times. Next +time, try to spice up your answers a bit. Try these helpful phrases: + + +Did you pack your bags yourself? + + Yes, by the grace of Allah I have packed this device, I mean + this bag, myself. + + No, our houseboy Abdullah packed them for us. Is that going to + be a problem? + + + +Have your bags been with you at all times since you packed them? + + Yes. Definitely. Except umm... I left them in the cab when + I stopped at the office. You don't suppose that rag-head taxi + driver... + + Yes, these bags have been with me at all times. Wait... this + isn't my bag. Hey, what's going on here? + + Oh, did I say I packed these bags? + + Do you believe in linear time? + + + +Did any stranger give you anything to carry aboard this aircraft? + + Abdullah is no stranger to me! + + No way man, I paid for all of this hash, umm, I mean uhh stuff, + like myself. + + Define "stranger?" + + What do you mean by "give?" + + +Do you have any weapons? + + I am registered as a lethal weapon in my home country of Libya. + + You mean like, oh umm..., nevermind, no, no weapons. + + + +Do you have anything to declare? + + I declare a great victory today against the Zionist pigs! + + + +The Metal Detector +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ +Just like other pieces of modern technology (the TV, the Sega Genesis, +microwave ovens), the airport metal detector can provide hours of +amusement. + + +Next time, try these simple when going through the metal detector... + + +... stop suddenly, spin around and run away, then return five minutes +later as if nothing had happened. + +... examine the metal detector closely, then smile with great +satisfaction and walk through confidently. + +... glance nervously behind you every five seconds, look down at your +watch at least twice this often, mumble prayers to Allah almost under +your breath. + +... nod knowingly at a random security employee and say "by the grace of +Allah we will achieve victory today" quietly enough that no one else can +hear. + +... when asked to turn on your laptop, rub it rhythmically and moan "oh +baby, I love you" to it until the security people let you go. At no +time should you touch the power button. + + +Using these simple techniques; you can be assured that your next trip +away from home will be much more eventful and exciting. + + +Huck Finn + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0535.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0535.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ba1af824 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0535.txt @@ -0,0 +1,117 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Association by mutual benefit + ----------------------------- + +Something rather interesting happened to me today. I took my +rollerblades back to the store from where I had purchased them, they +needed a minor repair. As I stood by the counter waiting for someone to +serve me, a young man walked up to me and asked whether I was Mike. I +was taken back for a moment... there was something familiar about the +face but I couldn't place it. Obviously I replied yes. It turned out +that this person was someone that had gone to the same highschool as me +6 years ago. + +So what was so interesting about that besides a pleasant surprise? Well, +this individual I had hardly considered a friend. Sure I knew his name, +but that was because he was loosely connected with the "cool" people +because of his drug use, and total lack of interest in school. + +What really got me was the fact that he had remember who I was. I +remember many people from those early years, in fact I was quite +impressed with how many names, both first and last, that I could +recollect. I could name off tens of people, people that I knew +well or barely at all, people that I will probably never see again. +Jean-Paul happened to belong to one of the latter group, or so I +thought. It was this occurance that made me think about the meaning of +friendship... just what exactly does it mean nowadays? + +I used to have a friend, Andrew, we both had gone to the same junior +school and the same highschool for 2 years. In total we had been good +friends for 8 years, going camping together, going to the same parties, +always sitting beside each other in class. We both considered each +other to be our "best friend", the idea of ever parting ways never +crossed our minds. I had always admired Andrew for his natural gift for +mathematics. Out partying, drinking, doing drugs, or just hanging out +never seemed to impair his ability of pulling off excellent marks. + +I had him pinned as going far in life, and enjoying life at the same +time. Him and I weren't going to be one of those people that screwed +around in school when young, and only live to regret it as we grew +older. I was wrong. Needless to say I did not share Andrew's +gift. I was a poor student, and only after failing to get good marks +after yet another year my mother transferred me to another school. It +was at this time that Andrew just started to fade away. We no longer +hung out, played hackie-sack, or just talked. In all honestly I +have to admit this came as a surprise. How is it possible that someone +you have know for 8 years, day to day, could just disappear so easily. +Our friendship seemed to have endured so much for so long... yet it +took nothing but a few weeks of separation to severe all ties. + +This is what has made me really wonder what true friendship is. All +those people in my past that I spent so much time with, all those people +that I considered "friends" or were they? Does the word, "acquaintance" +truly describe what we mean when we say "friend" nowadays? + +I wonder if this consumer related society that we live in has invaded +our own way of living... I guess its a stupid question. Of course it +has. After all we are the product of our environment. Maybe just as we +have learnt that you use something and then throw it away has filtered +through to the way we interact with each other. A friendship +is only maintained as long as minimal effort is required and we benefit +from it. I doubt that it can be argued that friendships are beneficial. + +Its nice to have someone to talk to, someone that you can ask favors of +or someone that you can hang out with when there's nothing else to do. +But friendships become more demanding when one has to make an effort to +stay in contact with someone, either by phoning or going out of your way +to see them. This is probably the true test of friendship. If time and +distance grow long and the bond remains intact... well then maybe you +two share a friendship and not an acquaintance of mutual benefit. + +I was able to talk with Jean-Paul for about 10 minutes before the +assistant came back. Within that time I had learnt that he had plans of +going off to university this coming year, and drugs were no longer +controlling his life. While talking to him there was one thing that +struck me, his eyes. He was the kind of person that could talk to +you and look you straight in the eye. I don't know what it was... but +just from those few minutes I thought as friends we would have really +gotten along. While leaving the store I felt happy that Jean-Paul was +finally finding some direction in his life. I wish him well. + +As for Andrew.. well he has been kicked out of university. Many of his +roommates have moved out because he has no respect for others, basically +he's a slob. What's he doing with his time? Well apparently growing pot +in his apartment to make money. + +Sometimes you really can live such a carefree life... but reality has a +way of reminding us that the good times can't go on forever. + + +Inner^Kry +11/Jul/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0536.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0536.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..20bdb17e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0536.txt @@ -0,0 +1,94 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Dress Codes + ----------- + + This is my first time with a F.U.C.K. File, everyone, so bear with +me here... + + Ever since last year, we've had a new dress code at my High School. +Unsurprisingly, it's a load of bullshit, dressed up in even more bullshit. +Only one really big change was made, but it was enough to single-handedly +piss of the entire school, myself included. This change is that everyone +has to tuck in their shirts, blouses, etc. It doesn't seem big, but it's a +pain in the ass. But, of course, no one seems to want to fight back. +Everyone follows because they're afraid. Not just of being given a +detention, but afraid of being different. They could be ridiculed for +standing out in the crowd. A lot of people say they care, but you know how +little they really do whenever some dipshit from the office comes around +and tells them to tuck it in. There's a few who'll stand up, but not many. + People say it's pretty stupid to caring this much about something +that little. Especially for someone who cares as little about fashion and +clothing as myself. Sometimes I wonder myself if I'm not just looking for +something to bitch about. But then it all gets to me. The rule, the +reasoning, and the old shits on the school board who think because they got +voted in, it gives them immediate knowledge of how all kids think. That's +why I don't comply. That's why I rebel. Not for attention, not just to be +different, like so many say, but because of the utter ignorance displayed +in this rule. So, for the entire year, I refused. For standing up, I was +ridiculed by students and teachers alike, and given detentions, and days of +ISS. But I never did conform. + Oh, yes, you might want to know what the bullshit reasoning behind +the law is. Well, of course, they tell us it's for our own good. With a +tucked in shirt, it's apparently harder to hide weaponry, and we look +"respectable". Bullshit. Purestrain bullshit. I don't even need to go +into detail here on how fucking stupid it is. Of course, for those +assholes who ran the school, I had to. And, predictably, every time I +would argue away any defense of the dress code, I was faced with a simple +reason: "Because the school board says so." Well, fuck, the school board +says so. Whoopdee do. I didn't vote those old shits in, so why should I +listen to anything they say? Especially when they put it into effect like +they did, conveniently "forgetting" to tell us about it until the very +first day, instead of on the "Dress Code Sheet" they mail home before +the school year starts. Crafty motherfuckers, aren't they? + And, this week, a new school year dawned at our wonderfully droll +school. And, of course, the administration didn't seem to learn. Despite +the supposed piles of office referrals & D-Halls I was told about, the dress +code continued at Clear Creek High. Not just that, but now they've made it +more restrictive. You can't dye your hair unnatural colors, because they +apparently "distract from the learning process". Well, shit. Apparently, +COLOR now distracts me. Well, motherfuckers, why don't you get out there +and paint the entire school gray, if it's so damn distracting. And cut down +those trees and bushes. Such stimuli might create independent, non +government-engineered thoughts. Utter chaos could ensue. Also, you can't +have any body piercings showing, except earrings. It's not something I'm +gonna go do, but I don't give a fuck if someone's wearing them. Why do they +care? Oh, yes, of course. That could create non-conformity, and mess up +their perfect little school. + So, another year goes on. Because of all the chaos resulting from +our poorly-planned conversion to Block Scheduling, dress code is not on the +top priority. But, they still have people going around at lunches to check +that we're all being nice, neat orderly children, with our shirts cheerfully +tucked in. And I'm sure that once all the confusion from the change calms +down, it'll be back to giving me all the bullshit again. + + +Lexington +lexington@antisocial.com +http://oldworld.tierranet.com/waaagh + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0537.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0537.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fb7f5957 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0537.txt @@ -0,0 +1,117 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + More Stupidity + -------------- + + Stupidity lies at the root of all human frustration. Without +it the world would be a much better place, in theory. + Let's take stupidity in parents for example. I'm 17, and in +order to go anywhere I have to beg my parents and give them +arguments as to why I should be able to leave the house for three- +four hours. The simple idea that I should have to argue is +frustrating. Their "protection" does nothing more than drive me +from them, and they refuse to acknowledge that. + Stupidity on the roads is another example. Ever find yourself +behind someone who doesn't seem to have a place to go? Or do you +ever find people braking for no reason, then suddenly signaling, +as if it makes any difference now that you're a couple inches from +rear-ending them? How about sitting at a green light, waiting for +some dipshit to realize that he has now been given the right to +proceed? + The problem with traffic stupidity is this: You might not mind +wasting your time, but when it comes to wasting others' time, +don't. People hate having their time wasted. This is at the heart +of the Satanic/Hedonistic/whatever morality: Do as you please until +it fucks with someone else's life. + This stupidity is not the most refined and harshest of the +myriad of stupidities we find in life. Another form of stupidity +is the one of chosen ignorance. That's when someone is ignorant, +yet they refuse to know anything about a subject. A stronger form +is when someone thinks they aren't ignorant, when in fact they are. +This leads to the strongest: someone who thinks they're +knowledgeable in a field(while ignorant) who preaches their +ignorance as fact to others. + This includes various religionists and right-wing fuck-ups. +Our government is run by the most stupid group of fucked-up, biased +old-farts who think what's right for them is right for the nation. +I have one thing to say to these morons: Fuck you, and we're on our +way. + This needn't apply only to the right-wing. The left-wing is +just as guilty. In today's politics, there is no "good guy," +there's just a "less fucking stupid" guy. That's the trend in +America lately it seems, an unfortunate one to say the least. + There are those who want to sue tobacco companies because of +tobacco-related illnesses. People are even beginning to +consider(if they haven't done it already) suing gun manufacturers +for gun-related injuries. This is where frustration comes in, and +this is where my morality says "Excuse me, and fuck you." + When it comes to directly hurting someone, the victim is a +victim of THE PERSON WHO INJURED THEM. Someone who kills themself +with tobacco has no one to blame but themself. Someone who shoots +someone else has no one to blame but himself. It's been summed up +by the famous statement "Guns don't kill people, people kill +people." If you go down to the elements of a problem, to its +components, you might as well go all the way. Why not blame steel +manufacturers for car-accidents, or blame mother-nature for giving +us oil that burns into pure shit for our precious atmosphere? +Let's just blame everyone, after all, it alleviates the pressure on +ourselves! + Stupidity will always be the most destructive problem in our +nation and in the world. The solution? I don't know, personally +I'd start out with a reform of our government so that instead of +trying its hardest to barely pass constitutional requirements, it +respects the constitution in its entirety. + America was not founded on the concept of "Christian Family +Values" bullshit. America was founded on the Satanic morality--do +whatever the fuck you want unless it fucks someone else's shit up. +[Pardon my language, but I think it flows beautifully with the +intent of this article.] In other words, "the right to pursue +happiness." The government should serve NOT to restrict the people +and protect them from themselves; the government should protect the +people from the assholes of our country, including the ones in our +government. The government should protect us from being strangled +by business, and from being ripped off and killed by society's +worthless garbage. + This is what America needs to "return to"[as if it were ever +there]. Instead of dodging the constitution whenever possible on +technicalities, keep your Slave-Master Christian Morality out of +our businesses, schools, and homes. "Christian Family Values" is +nothing more than a nice way of saying "thought control through +blackmail." + Returning to my solution...Once America has been suitably +reformed, let's conquer the world and put a dictator in power. +Let's have three houses of government; the executive(world +dictator, IQ of 150+ required with degrees in BUSINESS, ETC), the +selection committee(a group with various tests to prove/disprove +the stupidity of potential dictators), and the executive +assassination committee(the elite board of assassins that will +immediately kill any idiot that somehow slips through the selection +committee). I'll be the first dictator. Heh. + + +Lord Humongous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0538.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0538.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ec794ac4 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0538.txt @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Four Walls + ---------- + +Four walls surround me constantly.. Dark and Cold with only the light from +a monitor to light my way to my deepest and darkest secrets.. I'm often +found self-indulged in a tasty treat of fine liquid and the next day I +pay the heavy price. The days seem to never come.. I rarely see the sun +and the light of the moon is now the tear of the clown. + +Where has my life gone all these years.. my communications set in through +the wires.. and microchips, circuits, motherboards, keyboards, and various +3 letter acronyms run my life. I'm stuck here with four FUCKING walls and +a box that I think sometimes has better judgment than I. Over the counter +drugs and packs of 6 take over my body and the boy that was once cheerful +and full of life is now dead and tired... Hah, if only my father could see +me now wouldn't he be so proud to find that his boy had grew into something +just like you! + +Flashbacks happen often.. I sometimes see in black and white but, now and +again these Flashbacks are in color... Flashbacks of the casket, Flashbacks +of the hole in which they lowered him into the earth. Its been 2 years +since the passing of the season.. from Winter to Spring. I have yet to +touch the earth in which he was buried. Judgment day will be coming for +me soon i'm sure.. the way I have beaten my body up and all of the horrible +things I have done, i'm sure my days on this planet are numbered. As long +as I have this box i'll be okay because it doesn't judge me on what I look +like or how I act and it does whatever the hell I tell it to do. + +Sometimes I feel the same way it does.. I'm a puppet on strings and somebody +is pulling one way and somebody else is pulling the other. Yeah, right +around 3am i'm feeling pretty good after bottle 6 that's usually the time I +begin to nod off and keep my flashbacks from coming for me in the night. +Dark circles under my eyes, pale skin, and ragged hair is how you could +describe me after a night with a couple of my friends. I often go a couple +days without eating anything.. my appetite is suppressed by a couple of tall +cold ones and anything I can pop in my mouth that throws me to the floor in +an almost comatose state. Nobody fucking cares man.. everybody pretends to +care but if I dropped dead right here right now they would step over me in +passing. You see i'm already fucking dead... those four walls are made of +pine now instead of plaster. Look at me now, i'm a man who wont let +himself be! + + +modify + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0539.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0539.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e3f71043 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0539.txt @@ -0,0 +1,133 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Reverb of the Echoes + -------------------- + +I learned an important lesson today. Its not how experienced you are, its +not who you know or who knows you. Its how well you kiss ass. + +So, I've been on the school newspaper since the second semester of my +freshman year, and am now in the first semester of my junior year. I was +on yearbook in eighth grade and have published three zines (one a month, +so each is quarterly) since I was in seventh. I have experience up the +ass, and this was my year to be editor of the school newspaper. + +Now to many of you, this may be nothing. A less then minuscule worthless +title at one of thousand public high schools. Hardly unique in any way. +But publishing and writing is what I want to do for a living. And this +would be the most mainstream thing I've ever been editor of (I *wish* my +zines had a distribution of 2500 like my school newspaper does). + +So I go to class the first day and realize that I am the only person who +is not a first year newspaper student. I have two years seniority over all +of them. I stand in front of the class, not knowing where our advisor was, +and state, "Hello everyone. My name is Aaron, and I'm your editor." + +I wasn't expecting what I got. +"Why are you editor?" +"What gives you the right to be editor?" +"Why cant I be editor?" + +After 10 students gang up on me with their harsh words, I regretfully agree +that we will wait until the advisor arrives and let him decide. I say him +because we have had the same advisor for as long as I have been with the +paper. He knows me well. I dated his daughter for a short period of time. +He likes me, and knows I am the right man for the job. Hmm, I sure do seem +to be contradicting the "not who you know" statement I made above. Feh... + +Anywho, there was a snag. Last year we were censored on several stories, +and it seems administration was fed up with our advisor. He had been +replaced. A new advisor....well, she would see my years of experience +and grant me the title. + +That's not an exact thought. I didn't just want the title. Sure it looks +good on a college application, and several people jumped to the conclusion +that was why I wanted it. They were mistaken. I wanted it because I had +witnessed the work, the dedication that it takes. I witnessed the pride +in my past editors eyes when the copy came. I had felt that same pride +with every issue of each of my zines. But mainstream could only feel +better. I wanted to make the paper better. I had been on long enough to +witness and learn from others mistakes. I knew what had to be done, and +no one else on the staff could claim the same. + +The new advisor came. She knew several members of the staff, and suggested +we have democratic elections to determine the editor. I was pissed. + +I stated my views on the paper to the class and was fairly confident that +they could make the right choice. I shouldn't have been so damn confidant. +I lost.I lost because I told them I would make it difficult. I told them +that I would require them, to write at least one story per issue. That they +would have to have their stories in on time or fail. I basically told them +that newspaper wasn't a cake walk. People don't want to hear the truth. +They want to do nothing and succeed. I lost. + +Then I pulled the real asslike move. My trump card. + +"Hey..." I inquired of my new editor "Who's gonna do the layout? I'm the +only one who knows the program...?" + +"Well....I thought maybe you could teach me...." she said. She obviously +thought I would be enthralled to cater to her every whim now that she was +my editor. Like, not quite. + +I didn't respond. I instead turned and walked out of the room. I returned +later to speak privately with the advisor. + +"I'm not sure how willing I will be to teach these people the program." I +said. + +"Well That's because you're a Nitzcheian Iconoclast." She responded. If you +don't know what it means, look it up. + +I just gave her a funny sideways look. Like dogs do when they don't +understand. Its such a questioning look. I Understood what she was saying, +but didn't want to go along with it.. + +"Are you quitting the paper then?" + +"Oh no..." I said I could feel myself beginning to smile, and tried to push +it away. " I plan to stay on.I will write my allotted stories. I wont help +with layout. That's the editors job." + +I Couldn't fight off my wry smile anymore, it grew across my cheeks, and +my de-braceified teeth began to show. She gave me a mean look. I think +she knew what I was going to say because she seemed to have a mad look +ready to attack me. + +" But when it fails, and it will fail with them in charge," I continued, +my smile only growing, "I will be among the first to say I told you so. I +will tell you...." Huge smile now. Her eyes were filled with contempt for +me. + +"...and laugh." + + +~Tuxedo Mask +TuxedoMask@cyberdude.com + +P.S. Central Echoes it the name of my school newspaper, hence the title. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0540.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0540.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..df1237c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0540.txt @@ -0,0 +1,204 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + He Deserved It + -------------- + +I sat limp on the chair staring at his body. The blood was still flowing +and I didn't have enough energy left to clean it up. Feeling as if I was +looking through a twisted mirror in a traveling circus Fun House, he looked +different somehow, peaceful. I looked down at the blood on my hands. His +blood. Damnit! He deserved it, didn't he? After all, this time he went too +far. + +It all started one glorious evening. I got dressed in my finest outfit. We +were going to a concert and I was really excited. He was picking me up at 8 +PM and we were going to dinner first at my favorite Italian Restaurant, +"Bistro Italiano". Watching the simple Henry Miller Clock sitting on my +mantle, I knew it was only minutes before I could finally see him again. + +We'd both been working alot and hadn't had a chance to see each other for +the past week. My ambition has kept me from relationships before, work was +always more important than whomever good-looking idiot I was dating. But, +this time, somehow, it was different. It was his soul that caught me. He +was a little boy stuck in a man's body. He was the nicest person I ever +met. The phone rang at 8:15 PM "Hey Babe" he said sweetly "I'm gonna be a +little late". I know I shouldn't get upset. He did call this time. Last +time he didn't show up or call. So, I'm thankful that he at least called +this time. I heard stories from his friends how he was seeing another woman +but I didn't believe them. I know my man, I know that he would never do +that to me. + +Pain Killers, meds, prescription drugs, whatever you call them. They help +calm me down. I know that maybe I took a few too many that night. But, it +kept me from getting angry. It kept me balanced. Some say that I should +seek professional help, my agitations are natural and there are drugs out +there to cure it. I don't need any of those doctors, I only need my pain +killers and sometimes a martini if it really gets bad. + +I sat on the couch, waiting. 9 o'clock rolled around. He wasn't going to +show up. I decided to get undressed and put a movie in the VCR. Another +Saturday Night alone, it figures. I considered going to the concert by +myself or calling one of my girlfriends. But, I wasn't in the mood and a +martini mysteriously appeared in my hand. I remember the days of High +School when boys wouldn't even talk to me. Glasses, with braces for your +teeth and legs aren't exactly a turn-on. In college, men started paying +attention. The braces, both of them, disappeared and the contacts made my +eyes even bluer then their natural color. I turned from an ugly duckling +into a beautiful swan. I wasn't used to the attention at first. But then I +realized I could do all the things I wanted by having these guys take me +out and pay for my company. They were all good looking, dumb and rich. But, +this guy was different. He had something none of the others had. He didn't +fall at my feet like all the other men. I found this frustrating and +intriguing at the same time. At the time, I didn't know ... I didn't have +any idea. I started watching the movie and fell asleep on the couch. I woke +up the next morning, never changing out of the clothes the night before. + +The lipstick so carefully applied to my lips the night before stained the +ivory pillow on the couch a deep streak of red. My mascara ran making me +look like an Alice Cooper look alike. There was a knock on the door. Knock, +Knock. + +He stood at the door, daisies in his hand. His face looking like a lost +puppy begging for forgiveness. "Hey babe, you'll never believe what +happened". I wanted to punch him. He put his arms around me and I melted +into his body. How could I resist him, after all he did bring flowers. I +was always a sucker for flowers. "What Happened"? I whispered it so softly, +I could barely hear myself. I didn't realize his answer would change our +lives forever. + +We spent the day together and that evening rented the movie Scream. The +lights turned off and the volume turned up. Easing into the couch, he put +his arms around me, all had been forgiven as we fed each other popcorn. +About an hour later, we hardly heard the crash of a window breaking. +I looked at him, he was staring intently at the television. Out of the +corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. It must be a reflection from the +Television, I thought to myself. Then I heard another noise. This time, I +realized it wasn't the television. Someone was in my apartment. Though +seconds only passed, it seemed like an eternity. A man ran across the room, +in front of the movie scene of Drew Barrymore screaming. The man had a +knife and it was poking the neck of my boyfriend. We didn't even have time +to get up before the knife was at his neck. + +"Don't give me any shit mother fucker or I'll kill you" He said drawing a +small amount of blood "Give me your fucking wallet". + +"Take what ever you want, please don't hurt us". My boyfriend produced his +wallet, watch and a necklace I bought him. + +I looked at the attackers eyes. They were wild. This was a bad situation +and I knew it wasn't going to get better anytime soon. I just sat there. I +didn't do anything. I just sat there. + +"Thanks for the cash, loser" said the attacker as he slit my boyfriends +throat. + +Oh my god, he just cut my boyfriend and I knew I was next. He looked at me +with those wild drug induced eyes. This wasn't good. This really wasn't good. + +"You're a hot piece of ass, bitch" He put his fingers in the shape of a "V" +and wiggled his tongue between them. I realized then he was about to rape +me. He threw me on the floor and cut off the buttons of my blouse exposing +my bra. Blood from my boyfriends neck was still on the knife and stained my +white shirt where the buttons previously were. While pinning down my arms, +he cut the middle part of my bra exposing my breasts. I could smell the +alcohol on his breath. I could see the missing teeth as he laughed +unbuttoning his pants. Turning my head, I saw my boyfriend, he was still +breathing but blood was pouring from his neck down chest. It was only a +matter of time. I saw the phone on the counter. How the hell could I dial +911 while this bastard was on top of me. + +My mind went back to the time of when I was a child, playing in the fields. +So secure laying in the grass making pictures out of the white fluffy +clouds in the blue summertime sky. So different from laying here on the +cold hardwood floor while a man I've never met was forcing himself upon me. +All I could think about was that I had to go to work the next morning. If +this guy kills me I won't make it to work and I'll lose my job. It's +interesting the things you think about when a man is about to rape you. The +attacker put the knife beside my head, his breathing increased, sitting on +top of me, pinning my arms down with his knees, he pulled out his penis, +hairy, smelly. The man hadn't showered in days. There was blood matted in +his pubic hair, he smelled of sex. I knew I wasn't his first victim that +evening. + +I gave the attacker my most sultry look and said "Thanks for getting rid of +that guy for me, I really want you to fuck me, baby." + +"You want me to fuck you bitch? You want me to fuck you? You're just like +all the other whore bitches wanting a real man to fuck you. Aren't you." His +words continued and swirled in my head until it became just mumblings like +the "Wa wa wa wana wa wa" of parents speaking on the Peanut Specials I +watched as a child. I shut him out and couldn't hear what he was saying +after a while. + +The attacker smiled and removed his knees from my arms going down to pull +off my pants. That was exactly what I expected him to do. I grabbed the +knife and kicked my foot into his groin as hard as I could. + +I don't know where the strength came from. He doubled on the floor with his +pants around his knees. I grabbed his head, looked into his eyes and said +"You fucked with the wrong bitch this time" He grabbed my hair and head +butted me. I plunged the knife into his body. A look of terror came across +his face. He tried to fight back so I withdrew the knife and plunged it +into his body again, and again and again. There was blood everywhere. "No +one calls me a Bitch" I said as I plunged the knife into his chest. His +breathing shallowed. There was resistance from his ribs that I didn't +expect. I had never cut through bone before and quickly learned it was +easier to push the knife in between the ribs. Normally I didn't have enough +strength to cut open the plastic on a new CD and here I was pushing a knife +through a man's ribs. + +"You fucking whore, I'm going to kill you" he screamed. The "you" never +fully came out. I heard a gurgling and then all the air left his lungs in +one breath. I knew I had killed him. I knew he was dead. I felt like I was +above the situation viewing myself on the floor below still plunging the +knife into his body, his sides, his back, saying "I'm not going to die, I +have to go to work tomorrow". Tears were pouring down my face. I pulled the +knife out and saw the blood on my hands. Dammit, the bastard bled all over +my new carpet. + +Looking at my boyfriend, his eyes were open but he was immobile. I grabbed +a towel from the bathroom and applied pressure to his wounds. I then put +his hands on the towel so he could apply the pressure to his own wounds. I +knew he would be OK. It was only a superficial cut. What an asshole. He +wasn't even hurt and he just laid there not even trying to help. I guess +people react differently to stressful situations. + +I sat limp on the chair staring at the dead body. The blood was still +flowing and I didn't have enough energy left to clean it up. Feeling as if +I was looking through a twisted mirror in a traveling circus Fun House, he +looked different somehow, peaceful. The anger had left his eyes, now they +stared blankly at the ceiling fan spinning in slow methodic circles. I +looked down at the blood on my hands. His blood. Damnit! He deserved it, +didn't he? It was him or me. I calmly got up from the chair holding my +bloodied white blouse together to cover my nakedness and called 911. + + +Valerie P. Rella + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0541.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0541.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..62a0d503 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0541.txt @@ -0,0 +1,87 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + God Help Me, I Can't Breathe + ---------------------------- + + Trapped inside my mind, gasping for air, the incessant pounding, +are the thoughts of a thousand wrongs and contemplations of decisions +made and decisions yet to be made. Moral fibers tense and tear as I feel +the fear of the unknown, my future, my past, the looming grim reaper +sitting on the back porch of my mind waiting for that one wrong move. My +chest feels tight, my muscles stiff, breaths are short and unsatisfying. +I am at this place again, a place that I fear, a place that breeds pain +and doubt. + + Where is this place you ask? Surely I should tell you so you +cannot tread on this mortifying ground of pain, confusion and fear. It is +no physical place, not even a dream, it is the inner synapses of my mind +all day and night, like a textile mill, churning out the fabric of my +life, past and present. + + While most days, I ignore its incessant noise, its hollow grinding +of reason and morality. But today, like some days, the churning of a thousand +thoughts and emotions becomes unbearable and makes me lose my selective +attention for that which is external. I embark past the gates of hell into +my own inner sanctum, my past, my present and the uncertain future. + + Wrong decisions I have made in my life come rushing to the foreground +like the horsemen of the apocalypse, trampling my thoughts as if they were +rice paper. I am left with the shreds of "what if" and "should I have.." +dripping through my fingers. Family deaths, old relationships and +employment memories come falling down as artillery as I try and dig deeper +into my mental foxhole. + + My accomplishments, correct decisions and complacency are here to +help me fight off the demons that occupy my thoughts. Soon they are victims +of the repressed emotions, thoughts and fears that have become the genie +inside this magic bottle of thought. Again I am alone. + + But I am not alone, anxiety is here with me. As I feel my blood +pressure rise, I see visions of my girlfriend being raped, my family being +killed, myself dying in a horrible accident. The anger builds. I will kill +the motherfuckers responsible for this. My mind races with visions of me +murduring these invisible foes and the feelings that accompany that rage, I +try and let out a crying scream of rage, only to realize, this is all in my +mind. + + Soon later I snap out from that delusion, only to be thrust into +visions of a stale career while everyone around me progresses. I am the +man to pity now. The man who has nothing, is nothing and will never be +anything. Hundreds of ambitious thoughts surge through my mind, I can +feel my legs start to run, my hands poised for work, only to find the +picture of this man is still the same, again, I try to scream only to be +silenced by my own mind. + + Imagine a thousand scenarios like these, start them all at the same +time, think about them, walk around in them, have them all echoing your +screams, trapping you inside every single one while still trying to function +as a normal human being. + +Welcome to my reality. + +-tersIan + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0542.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0542.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..7f6688f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0542.txt @@ -0,0 +1,153 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Beautiful Night + --------------- + + 3:41 AM, says my computer. 4:37, says my alarm clock. I +trust the latter, since my computer is all fucked up at the moment, +and this is not good. In precisely twelve hours and twenty-three +minutes an examination will begin. I will be taking it. + + Shit, I ain't prepared... but I don't want to be prepared +any more, 'cause, frankly, I don't give a fuck about it. I just want +to get it over with, fail the damn thing, explain to mom that this +college thing isn't really for me, and then get on with my life. Get +a job, or something. Perhaps go through an easier exam, just to get +into the second year of college and ward off the army for another +twelve months. Perhaps fuck it all and try to get permanently +relieved of the army because of my allergic asthma. + + Either way, my life is about to change a lot. + + I came home [well... as much as I can call this dump I +reside in at the moment "home"] some twenty minutes ago. I sat on +a bench in the park outside my building for at least an hour and a +half, listening to a new tape I recorded yesterday. Kickass music. +Goes well with friday nights in the capitol, though the park was a +bit too tranquil for the energetic breakbeats. + + Yeah, and then there were the people in the park. Real odd, +you know, so many lives, so many destinies, pass each other bye, +without ever knowing about the existence of each other. Two benches +to my left, five skaters deeply involved with rolling a joint and +showing each other how happy they were about it. Right between us, a +beggar getting a good nights sleep, emitting a loud snore here and +there. Straight ahead of me, on the opposite end of the small park, +a couple, getting busy. _Real_ busy, from what I could see. A couple +of teenagers having a quiet conversation to my far right, and +probably several more souls in the park, outside my range of vision. +It is a nice, silent night. I could even see the stars through the +slowly dying leaves of the tree towering above me. + + At one point, a fat old gipsy woman strolled by, murmuring +something to herself under her breath, pushing a beat-up shopping +cart filled mostly with trash and half-rotten bits of food in front +of her. She was dressed in torn up filthy rags, and an odor that +almost turned my stomach followed close behind her. She didn't stop +at that, she just had to push my stomach all the way. Seven or eight +meters to my right, the slow steady squeal of the cart stopped, and +she started frantically pulling her skirts up. I kept watching, +though the sight was disgusting, I was curious about what was +happening. I couldn't see what she was doing, but she must've pushed +her hand into her panties, and took out a handful of shit, because +she shook her hand off, and something very dark splattered all over +the path. She repeated this several times, and then continued to +inch forward nice'n'steady, relieved of the contents of her panties. +If there was any doubt as to what she dug out from under her skirt, +it was all chased away by the horrible stench that came my way +moments later. I tried to breathe as little as I could, got up, and +started walking away from this miniature ecological disaster. + + The skaters fell silent for a moment as I passed them by, +but merrily went on rolling their spliff [quite unsuccesfuly from +what I could see, it was obviously not their first one tonight] +after I strolled away not paying much attention to them. The night +was nice, but I was dressed too lightly for it, I was becoming a bit +bored, and the ninety minute tape was coming to it's end. Oh, yeah, +and the gipsy woman didn't help make me feel any better, either. So +I made a small circle around the park, and headed back here, to this +little flat I reside in. + + I had no new mail, my HTTP link was just _so_ fucking slow, +and I felt in the right mood, so I fired up the editor, and here I +am now, at line 71, listening to some mellow r'n'b on the radio. +It's nice, actually. I feel real good, because I like this kind of +smooth chill-out atmosphere, I like being all alone with nothing but +a deep hip-hop beat and the slow firing of my synapses, I really like +to sit in darkness and let loose. + + I like not having to worry about anything. Though I probably +should. But I like to think that I have realized the deeper meaning +of that old cliche of "be yourself". If I just can't pass this exam, +then passing it just "ain't me", so why should I let it bother me? +If passing this exam is the precondition to a glorious carrier in +computing r&d, then this glorious carrier isn't me, either. If I am +damn good about coding, and am damn good about making music, and I +like doing both of these, then that's what I should do in life. + + Come to think of it, I really don't know what made me want to +become a scientist-type, anyhow. I always was interested in how +things work, but today's physics is parsecs away from what it was +back in the glorious days of Newton & CO. No one wants to know how +things work, anymore. All they want is more data to process, more +numbers, more accurate measurements. It is a huge bureocratoid +system, and it's no wonder that it gives birth to a stereotypical +picture of a scientist as a skinny nerd with thick glasses, +incapable to shit properly if he doesn't calculate the proper +trajectory of the turd first. So fuck it all. + + I will be what I want to be, what I dreamt about when I was +a kid, and what I dreamt about ever since I realized that "science" +was just a huge lie; I will be a hacker, and I will be a poet, a +musician and a martial artist. And if I can't make enough money this +way to live through the next day, then I'll find something else to +do until I can. But I will be myself. I will live through what would +otherwise remain just a childhood fantasy. + + Damn! Why should it remain only that? I don't have a clue +about how come I realize these things only now! I mean, I get this +one stinking' life to live through, and what do I spend it on? Doing +what others expect from me and dreaming about being something +completely different? Fuck that. A roof over my head, food on the +plate, and a fuck here and there, is all that I need to be able to +do what I want in life - and these don't require much effort to +have. + + In an hour or so, dawn will come. I will wait for it +completely awake, probably for the first time in my life... and I +will enjoy it. Just like I will enjoy every moment of my life, from +now on, because it is one, it is unique, and it is wonderful if +that's how I want it to be. + + Wanna join me? + + +Phuzzy Logik/CoRRoSioN +September 12th, 1998. +phuzzy@galeb.etf.bg.ac.yu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0543.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0543.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..60b8fe40 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0543.txt @@ -0,0 +1,83 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + And It Won't Make Any Difference + -------------------------------- + +I don't know if I'll even send this message, but I figure I should at +least write some of this crap out so I can get some sleep. Tomorrow is my +birthday. Somehow, I didn't think my life would be this way at this age; +that there was going to be like this. I expected more, but it didn't make +any difference. + +Where's the family I was supposed to have by now? Where's the two kids, +the mortgage, a loving spouse? All I have is this empty house, two ex's, +and daily walks among strangers, none of whom I so much as exchange a word +with. Where's this life I thought I was going to have? It's like it's +all been slowly stripped away without my knowing, only to have myself +starkly reminded of it on this anniversary of my birth. I expected more +than this, but it didn't make any difference. + +Some look at me and think me a success based on the work I do and the +knowledge and skills I possess. In a way, I see myself as a success in +that realm. Yet isn't work supposed to be something you do so that you can +support a family, give the ones you love a decent life and leave a lasting +legacy for your children? Isn't there supposed to be more to life than +merely doing one's job? Isn't there? And if there is, why don't I +deserve it? I expected better, but that didn't make any difference. + +I really can't talk to anyone about this face to face. At the very core +of all this, I feel ashamed. Ashamed that, somehow, I've failed; that I +don't measure up; that I don't have what it takes. And each day goes by, +taking with it the likelihood that I'll ever catch up. And each passing +weekday of work eventually yields to the weekend and the quiet knowledge +that if I were to drop dead on a Friday evening, no-one would even know +until late Monday morning when I would fail to show up for work. A +sobering reality, but one I know all too well. I really expected more, +but that doesn't make any difference. + +And counseling...*sigh*...more talk and no action. I can't see myself +talking about this shit every day with someone I'd have to pay to listen +to me. That seems an even greater insult than the hand already dealt to +me; that I'd have to pay someone to hear about my dreams unfulfilled and +expectations unmet, all in spite of my best efforts. My heart would be no +lighter for the telling. Indeed, the only thing that would get lighter +would be my wallet as I steadily drift toward age 40, then age 50, then +age 60, and so on. I'd expect more, but it wouldn't make any difference. + +I feel very old today. And very alone. Yet no one really cares to hear +that. Feelings like that make people uncomfortable. Life's difficult +enough without adding that to the mix. So they wish me a 'Happy Birthday' +and I simply smile, shut up and carry on with my work. I put in my time, +go home, feed my pets, exercise, go to bed, get up, repeat. I guess it's +things like that which drive most people to an early grave. + +But I'll manage...I always do. It's what's expected of me. + +And it won't make any difference. + +- anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0544.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0544.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..23ca960b --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0544.txt @@ -0,0 +1,102 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Evolution in Two Parts + ---------------------- + +PART I - PHYSICAL + +Late 1995 there was an interesting story in the news about a child +with a rare disorder. This child, a female, was born without the +ability to smile. The news flashed a picture of the girl on the +screen making it obvious she had a problem. She had the type of +mouth you'd see on an inflatable sex doll--always open and circular. +Her parents were preparing her for an operation to correct the defect +(initially on only one side of her face). Everyone was excited about +the operation. Soon she would be able to smile like all the other +children. + +I have to admit this is quite an interesting disorder. Based on my +observations I would classify this "disorder" more as an evolutionary +process. Look around if you don't believe me. Do you see people +smiling all the time? I don't. In fact, it seems to be the more we +progress the less people seem to smile. Think about this for a +moment. Look at what we have created. I tend to believe our +societies happiness factor is going down proportional to the quality +of lifestyle being created. + +These days we are working more for less. We've got a very high +standard of living but less time to enjoy it. Our time is taken up +by work, commuting, sleeping, and maintaining ourselves--eating, +cleaning, exercising, repairing, etc. We have done so much so +quickly that we have not had the time to enjoy very much of what we +have accomplished. Our happiness is fading along with our smiles. +That smileless girl is a tribute to the new generation of workers who +are doing more and enjoying less. It is evolution in my book but is +it something we should accept? + +PART II - PSYCHOLOGICAL + +In this techno-punk kick ass society you will find yourself adapting +to someone else's rules, problems, or situations. Assholes are +everywhere nowadays. They are the inconsiderate people around you. +The ones who are apathetic and only thinking of themselves--I'm sure +you know the type of people I'm talking about. These type of people +are "forcing" people like myself to take a "do onto others as they do +onto you" attitude. + +There are too many people in our world so these type of people are +inevitable and worse yet they are here to stay. They spit in your +face and tell you to "Fuck off," but not literally. They do it by +causing you discomfort. It becomes hard to ignore the situation +unless you are totally oblivious to your surroundings or one of these +"assholes." So, in our ever-growing world we are pushed closer +together. Together with the assholes of society. You can move, face +the problem, or simply try to ignore the problem. + +Moving is futile because assholes are everywhere. Always thinking of +themselves and not caring one iota about you or others. Facing these +people makes them realize they are getting to you. Of course +assholes will be assholes, as the expression goes, so this is equally +futile. Ignoring the problem can cause a massive build up of anger +making you extremely volatile during the times the asshole is +annoying. Escapism is probably the best solution--get away from the +danger zone or do something to block it out completely. + +Our dollar a day society will continue to collapse within due to its +own construction until we break these walls binding us. A +communication breakdown is already noticeable. Class difference is +becoming a wider gap. Caring and emotion is disappearing all +together. We have raised a generation greedy for one's own sake. +The looking out for number one farce helped cause this communication +and class breakdown. How long can this system maintain stability? + +Is this the type of evolution you want to see? + + +Into the mouth of madness, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0545.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0545.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..8023d990 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0545.txt @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Normality of Rage + ----------------- + +Rage. There's such an ineffable ambivalence about rage... It's almost as +alluring as it is repulsive... Or perhaps that's just me? I don't know... +Most of the time, I feel like it's only natural for a human being to +spend most of their life in an outraged despair feeling like a drowning, +trapped sewer rat, but...well, but most people who I talk to seem to +think otherwise. What is normal? If that's not it, then I don't know what +it is. I can't imagine going through life without a complete +hopeless-panic hybrid stepping in at regular intervals to make everything +uncomfortable and dissatisfying. I'm not trying to procure any solace, +and I'm not trying to jerk any tears (there are better stories for that +than any that I have anyway)... I'm just telling it like it is. I really +can't imagine that anyone goes through their life looking forward to the +new day for any other reason than that it marks the end of the past day. +Is that normal? I don't know. I really don't know anymore, and I don't +think I ever did... + +I often feel so inundated with rage and contempt that I just want someone +to start a fight with me - mind you, I've never been in a fight before - +just so that I could beat the shit out of something. In fact, half of my +daydreams are of people pulling me away from a bloodied and disheveled +asshole on the ground so that I don't kill him. Why the other people to +pull me away? I think that some foresight-bearing vestige of my mind +knows that I wouldn't want murder or manslaughter charges, and I would +NOT want to end up in a mental institution for life, but...well, I often +wonder if I wouldn't kill someone outright if I got the chance. I'm not +sure that I could stop myself once it started. + +That's not to say serial killings or premeditation of any vast, +convoluted plots to make incisive blows against selected people, but +more...well, more of just a "crime of passion" thing. I'm not sure that +once I let the hate pour out, that it could stop until I quenched my +thirst for blood. Sometimes, I just want to bite into another's flesh and +tear chunks out with my teeth. I guess I almost feel like that would +satisfy the rage better; that it'd be a more effective floodgate to let +some of the pressure out. Or maybe it's just the ancient, hand-me-down +animal blood trying to remind me how it always worked before it got +trapped inside these ridiculous, ostentatious bipeds who try most +moronically to solve their disputes with blue uniforms and other bipeds +behind large desks who have hammers used not to smash the offenders, but +to sound off on their desk so inefficaciously. Not to be trite or banal, +but...perhaps it's the "Call of the Wild", trying to tell me that I +should use my body and just kill, rather than relying on any human +weapons, either direct or indirect. Or maybe I just feel that I could +clench my teeth much better than my fists around a throat; that it could +be much more effectively destructive than any punches, pushes or kicks +that I could throw at my foe... + +It's an odd balance... I both can understand and see the pain for any one +person, and want to reach out to them with hands that I don't have; hands +that would alleviate all that's wrong in their life - and then, I want to +kill most people, and find a scapegoat to take the place of those whom I +could never kill... I'm not so sure I could kill anyone. But if someone +riled me enough....I just don't know what would happen. It could be...it +could be bad. I dunno, I guess I'll see.... + +I dunno, whatever. I mean, it's just kinda been there, and it'll probably +remain. And that's okay, 'cuz this is normal............isn't it? + + +- agrajag +http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Club/1610/Dep.html + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0546.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0546.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..21b1a30c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0546.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Confronting My Old Self + ----------------------- + + Suddenly this evening I was somehow confronted with my past self. +If that doesn't make sense then let me attempt to explain. I saw something +that made my mind thrust forth a part of my past that I had long and since +forgotten about. I was once an attempted 'hacker' I did everything I could +to learn the things that most hackers take for granted. It wasn't that I was +stupid, I was just say impatient. I remember the complaints, I remember +the discouragement, but still I tried. Well I still somehow have that +element in me but I never sat down until now and thought about it. When I +left the environment of piss wars about 'knowledge' and other things that +are not worth mentioning. I tried my hardest to learn how to break a system +before I knew the system, if that makes any sense to you. When you see +these people that can break into or sneak into systems, you want nothing +more in life than to do that. Somehow you just can't do it, you read the +text and then try to follow through is a waste of time. + + See people told me that I had to learn how the program ticked before +I could 'hack' it, yet I still tried and failed. So that brings me to my +current position, here I sit going to graduate school, I am studying "Initial +Results in Electromechanical Mode Identification from Ambient Data" which +seems like a century ago when I was frustrated when I could figure out the +basics of a system as of Unix. The major question in my head is am I still +a wannabe hacker? + + Since this is such a complicated question I have sat here in my +shitty graduate student housing trying to put this into words. Since I +started school interested in computers and engineering, I have always +thought to myself "how can I bypass this system. Sometimes I sit up at +night and go over systems that had nothing to do with my grade or my career +as an engineer, yet had everything to do with my drive to know every aspect +of a certain network or program. Some I still can't figure how to get around, +others I did. Does this some how deem me as a hacker? Well, that is a +matter of opinion. Do I have a web page that has "MY k00l h4ck1ng s1t3 no, +not really. Do I put out publications with USEFUL information? No, even +if I did, no one will read it, and if they do, I would be surprised. Do I +read 2600, not really, all they talk about anymore is some moron in jail. +I just do my own thing, I am not part of a group, I haven't even tried to +start a group because you know what, that isn't what it is about being a +hacker. + + I think that after all this retrospect on my little life, what have +I really gained? Am I ashamed of how I was, a little, but I don't regret it +at all. Am I hacker? This is a complicated question, by some definitions, +yes I am a hacker, and by others no I am nothing but a part time or casual +'hack'. I think that I will leave this one to the masses. Will I ever get +involved in the 'scene' again? Maybe, but my past is so clouded that I +really doubt it, I have better things to do than to get into fights +'on-line'. + + I guess the moral of all this is, some people will consider +themselves hackers when they are really nothing but people that ride on the +coat tails on others. Some people don't even call themselves hackers and +have the skill and knowledge and drive to do it. The major question is who +or what category do you fit into? + + +- anonymous + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0547.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0547.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..686b7ae1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0547.txt @@ -0,0 +1,181 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Escape vs. Running Away + ----------------------- + +"Do you ever think about just disappearing?" + +"Yeah ... and in a few years, I probably will." + +* * * + +Pros, cons, how-to's, when, and why. How many times have you thought about +'if only I could just disappear ... "? I know I have thought about it too +many times to count! + +Is it possible to disappear? Yes. + +Is it wise to disappear? Maybe. + +Is it right for you? Maybe. + +Is it the same as running away? It shouldn't be. + +* * * + +-Pros- + +- You are able to start over. + +- You do not need to deal with the same people. + +- You do not need to do the same things as you once did. + +- You can go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. + + +-Cons- + +- You do not stay close with anyone that you may or may not be close + with now. + +- You lose a part of what could be, someday. + +- If you're doing it because of something you, yourself did or had apart in, + you will never leave that behind. Even though, you may not have to deal + with all the responsibility of having taken part in whatever. + + +-How-Tos- + +- Pack up all the things you think you will need, bare essentials. + +- Tie up any loose ends. + +- Hop in a car, in a plane, boat, or other source of transportation, and + you are on your way to your new life. + + +-When- + +When is the right time to just 'disappear'? That is debatable. But, +something only you, yourself can decide. + + +-Why- + +Why is something that only you should be able to figure out, and know ... and +be something that is so long lasting, that it truly would have an effect on +the rest of your life if you stayed or disappeared. + + +-Possibility- + +The possibility of being able to successfully disappear is more and more +easier, and because of that, at least for me, more and more appealing. +Appealing not because it is easier, just because I know it is something I +could seriously do and make it work. + + +-Wise- + +Are you going to be missed? Yes. By who? Maybe someone you know really +well and maybe someone you basically do not even know, but you will be +missed, no matter how few of people you believe care about you. The question +is, can you honestly leave everything behind? Not have any contact with them +again, except through anonymous channels, and most likely never see them face +to face again, without running the risk of being discovered. Can you +honestly do that? A decision that cannot be made logically, without +rationally taking time and thinking and carefully considering all other +possibilities. + + +-Right- + +Is leading a life of disappearance something you can live with? Not knowing, +and just getting up and leaving someday. Is it something that you would +be okay with having done, and would be able to do again, without running away +from anything. + + +-Running Away- + +Disappearing and running away are the -not- the same thing. + +What's the difference? + +The difference is simple. Running away, you are running because you do not +want to necessarily face something, deal with something, or do something. +Whereas if you disappear, you are merely starting over. Able to start over +and do things right, or at least differently. Not having to put up with the +crap from the same people ... + + +-Idea- + +The idea to write this file was suggested by the person that I had, had the +above conversation with, and now that I have been writing it, there are some +additional things that need to be said. + +Maybe disappearing -is- possible, and maybe there are cases where disappearing +-is- the right thing to do. The questions above need to be thought about, +and the facts have to be considered. Also, though it is most important to +know that even though if you disappear you will not be dealing with the same +people and their crap, there will be other people and other things you will +not like to have to deal with, are you going to then disappear, again? How +many times are you willing to disappear? How many times can you disappear +before it really is just running away? Or is running away really the same +thing as disappearing? + + +The difference lies in this: When you pull a disappearing act, you do not +necessarily leave the area that you are residing in, etc. You may just leave +the 'scene' or 'world' that you have come to live in and be known in ... in +essence just changing the way you have been living, and staking your claims +back to your life, and not claiming other parts of it. And, the reasons for +doing that still fall under the same above questions, but when you are talking +about disappearing from the 'scene' or or 'world', that is one thing, and that +is -not- the same as running away. That is more moving on with your life, or +starting over. However, when you disappear from everything and start a new +life, even though that may be the only way you can start a true new life then +that is what you need to do. But, if you disappear because you are sick of +dealing with something, that is more just because you are unwilling to stand +up for yourself, or stake your own life and take it back, then that is when +you are running away, and that is when you will always keep on running from +that point onward, if you start. + +Before you disappear, make sure you know if you are just merely disappearing +or if you are just merely running away. Because, there is a difference, the +difference is larger then you may ever realize, until it is too late, if you +do not take the time to figure out "Disappearance vs. Running Away". + + +-Kamira +December 26th, 1997 +kamira@sekurity.org +www.sekurity.org/~kamira + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.sekurity.org/~fuck (temp down) = += http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://www.simunye.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0548.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0548.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2c636d64 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0548.txt @@ -0,0 +1,186 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Cynictology + ----------- + +Are you in a good mood? Happy? Then stay that way. Stop reading. Go away. + +Everyone else, join me for a moment. + +I was reading a review tonight for a book. The basic premise was that a +group of people, if they worked together, could indeed form a happy, +productive, and functional utopian society. My first reaction was to +scoff. Still, the last point the reviewer made stuck with me. It was +something to the effect that mood of text was catchy. That brought me to +thought. + +Could it be as simple as that? Could just being happier, being more +optimistic, breed hope? Bring about positive change? Could it in fact +make the world a better place? As simplistic and impossible as the notion +was, I began to see it had merit. It had truth. + +At that moment, the thought itself became too much to bear. That for a +moment I comprehended the fact the salvation of this county, the world, +mankind, and more importantly, ourselves, was well within all our grasps. +That if we willed it, it could be. Now it is your turn to scoff. This +theory of sunshine blowing freely up the collective consciousness's skirt +could make the world a happy-go-lucky place we could be happy to live in is +even remotely credible. I would do the same, had I not thought it myself. +Then again, just perhaps, it validates the theory as a fact. That since we +are incapable of comprehending it, we propetuate the misery the world is in. + +Isn't that, and hasn't that, been the problem all along? When has the +world as a whole been optimistic about the state and fate of mankind? +There have been times of prosperity, to be sure. There are very notable +moments in the world's history when societies in particular - but not the +world as a whole - have been optimistic. I think of this country. In the +post-WWII era, there was a boon of happiness, and this country thrived as a +result. The quality of life shot through the roof, and it was fueled by +it's own achievements. In small, short, controlled cases, it can be a +reality. + +But what happened? We gained information, we gain knowledge and a result, +we became jaded. When that began, the boon busted - as all cases of social +bliss eventually do - and we began down the path we are currently on. +Information became more available. Seeing the war in Vietnam was raw +unfiltered information this country had not experienced for quite some +time. Doubt crept in, bred contempt, and grew into social conflict. Once +we had a taste of raw information, there was no turning back. + +Now we have endless news channels, magazines, newspapers, and of course, +the Internet to fuel it further. It is the hot, still, thriving water that +best grows cynicism, doubt, and pessimism. It allows us to question more, +to realize that the truth is far from simple, and that there are events in +motion that twinge upon fear. Can you say the world is in good shape? +That trust is something easy and simple to grant? That hope is worth +cultivating and maintaining? + +So again, what if tomorrow, in spite of all of that, we got happy. We +gained optimism as a people, in spite of what we knew to be wrong? If you +feel good on any given day, everything seems better. You are on top of the +world, and even though you know there are things wrong in your life, for a +brief period in time, you have the ability to see past them. In theory, +this could be a state of mind that could mend all the worlds' ills. + +So, does this in fact mean I'm going to start tomorrow? That I'm going to +put on a brave face and smile at the world? I've just spend all this space +going on how it could be salvation, so will I follow this new credo? + +No. + +Something else occurs to me at the same time. Social and/or global +happiness is not within our grasp. Why? Because socially we are not +mature enough to practice it. I believe that there is a social maturity. +That as a whole, and as time goes on, society grows through stages of +childhood into adulthood. Think for a moment if the world had embraced +science and philosophy very early on. A battery is not a hard device to +make at any moment in history. If the thought had been put into it, it +could have been done. What if at some point thousands of years ago, we +learned how to harness energy, and began the process of energy and physics +theory? Is it not impossible to image that a society could have learned of +the atom, and fusion, and stumbled into weapons of mass destruction in the +same way we did? + +Now image other moments in history occurring normally. If England had the +atomic bomb during the war with France, or during our colonial uprising, +would they have given a second thought about using it? I'm no historian, +but I believe it would have happened in some capacity. We needed to in the +modern age to prove we could. I can think of a great many wars in which +religious issues ran so strongly, it would have been as righteous to use +the A-bomb as it would have been to see the Red Sea close upon an army. + +Yet we have not. In the relatively few years (but many when compared to +the vast growth and proliferation of the technology) we have had atomic and +nuclear technology, we have not blown ourselves up. Why? I think in part +that it is due to the fact we have gained a social maturity not possessed +hundreds or thousands of years ago. I think we see repercussions to our +actions they may not have possessed. Think of the things you did as a +child that you would not do as an adult. We do not do those things out of +maturity. I think that since we make up society, society is us. As a +result, it grows, ages, and matures as we do. + +Does this mean we are mature as a society now? More mature, most likely, +but how mature? Fourteen? Eighteen? Thirty? I cannot say, but I would +guess less than 20. What we do to one another and the environment is proof +we still do not have the maturity required for real change. + +When I think about a happy civilization in recent history, I think of the +Native Americans. Yes, they had conflict and wars, but they had a respect +for themselves and the world they live in on a level we have yet to +achieve. Is that proof that we are at least capable as well? No. Their +society was so different from ours, so much simpler, so much happier, that +it seemed barbaric and beneath us - and we destroyed it as a result. + +This is in part why I refuse to be happier. Because to do so, now, in this +day and age, is still suicidal. As a society, we still see happiness as +being trite and naive. If we did not, we wouldn't make such an effort to +broadcast horrific news and thrive on misery and conspiracy. We would +instead make an effort to pass along what is good, noble, and hopeful about +the world we live in. We will not, and cannot, tolerate happiness as a +condition of being. + +So am I saying I'm going to lie down and quit? That all of the world is +doomed, and that we will in fact will the world to collapse upon itself? +Entropy states that this is the natural end of all things, so perhaps it +has to be true. But more importantly, is it true now? I don't think so. +I think we are short one cataclysm - be it natural, man-made, or of just +pure thought and idea - to set it in motion. One interpretation of +Nostradamus's prophecies states that we will virtually annihilate +ourselves, before enjoying 2000 years of peace. + +These events have happen before, but perhaps they were the wrong events. +Or perhaps we lacked the social maturity to see their wisdom. Or even +still, perhaps the wrong elements of the society failed to be a part of the +rebuilding. I think of the Black Plague, one of the greatest thinnings of +the population in known history. Did the world experience a boon after +that? No, because it was the common man that was thinned the most. The +political, royalty, and religious figures survived via money and power. +Walling themselves up against the great unwashed allowed them to survive. +Thus the ideas that could have effected real change were wasted on them, as +they didn't experience the impact of the tragedy. + +Do we need war, famine, pestilence, or just the world turning upon us to +teach us the lesson this time - when perhaps we'll appreciate it's message +and magnitude? Perhaps, but perhaps not. Maybe our next cataclysm will be +information. Awareness. + +So what do we do? We should keep at it. Information is the great +equalizer. It transcends money, power, and status. The more we know, the +closer we come to triggering the event that will effect great change. Will +gaining information make us happier and more optimistic? In all +likelihood, it will bring us deeper into misery and despair than we think +our darkest moment to be now. I still think this is something to look +forward to. I think that the path we, as a society, have embarked upon, +may be worth the price. + +I have optimism that is growing while cultivated in pessimism. I have +started to feel better. I started by asking, questioning, and calling onto +the carpet my own sense of doom. I have done so by writing this article, +and asking the question. + +I hope to live long enough to have it answered. + + +- capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0549.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0549.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..74dcbaf0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0549.txt @@ -0,0 +1,281 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + guilt in three parts + -------------------- + +i lay in bed, watching my life revert. i revert back to my days as an +angst ridden youth, seeking shelter in lyrics that confused the emotionally +strong. days and nights waiting to bury myself in my own world, away +from people. i told myself not to love or be loved because it was comfortable +and so damn right. after high school i learned it even more. college +taught me to question the system, question authority, and eventually strike +out on my own in bitter resentment of the system that was supposed to +educate me. + +then came a sudden wake up call to society. the logical side of me quickly +realized that despite my contempt for people, being social got you a lot +farther. sincerity was an option. + +today i remind myself of certain words that have always been a core +part of me. the inherent understanding of a concept is interesting +to say the least. the rational side of me says it is just a feeling, +that there is no way a person would really know those feelings had +society not defined them during a more impressionable stage. +then i am reminded, "so it is with god". + + shame \'sham\ n. 1a: a painful emotion caused by + consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety + 2a: a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute + +even when i can't think of what it is, i still feel shame. ever present, +just like before a vacation, the thought of 'what did i forget'. so +it is to my shame. i can't begin to describe how i feel when i actually +have something to feel shame over. the inherent feeling is disconcerting +to say the least, downright depressing on any other given day. + +- + +a day passes, and i can't think of how to express my emotion and feeling +into text. ironic, that i write for over five years, getting compliment +on how well i can express feeling. yet this time i can not. my guilt runs +deep and i know it. if not for my actions, but the mere fact that music +is lost on my ears, food tasteless. i can't describe how much i love music, +yet it all falls on near deaf ears. then... for a rare second, and only +that, the music hits me. that original reason i liked it comes back to +me. i break out in tears for the inherent beauty in the voice that +consumes me. + +truth hits me.. and it doesn't take an hour to think why. it is that +inherent beauty i associated with someone i thought loved me that +strikes me. god, how i have fucked up. not only in my actions, but +in making such gross errors in assumptions. + +i find myself turning the pages to the beat of sad and depressing songs, +reminding myself of the true meaning of certain words. i never want +them to be lost to me. their meaning a warm solace to my cold heart. +perhaps.. the principle parts of the ruling passion that make me +who i am. + + guilt \'gilt\ n. 1: the fact of having committed a breach of + conduct 2a: the state of one who has committed an offense + b: feelings of culpability + + culpable \kel-pe-bel\ adj 1: guilty, criminal 2: meriting + condemnation or blame + +i sing along... "how can it feel...". i wish she knew. her voice and +words almost come close to what i feel. + +earlier tonight, i walked onto the porch to feel the rare arizona rain. +i stopped to listen to it, machine gun rythem of beats on the concrete. +i felt it's side affect splatter onto my legs, and i felt so alone. +i wish i could express how close the term 'alone' felt to me, so that +you knew it was more than a word to me. "how can it feel.." she sings. +fuck. i know. + + mea culpa \ma-e-kul-pa\ 1: a formal acknowledgment of + personal fault or error + +and so goes my handle. its ironic that one person just today noticed +that my login name was 'guilt'. she acted like it was new. no.. not +at all. it fell on me weeks before the reason she thinks I took it for. +guilt. hell yes, like you wouldn't believe. + + remorse \ri-mo(e)rs\ 1: a gnawing distress arising from + a sense of guilt for past wrongs + + repent \ri-'pent\ 1: to turn from sin and dedicate oneself + to the amendment of one's life 2a: to feel regret or + +what used to be a play on words for a side joke at work, my living +being. day in and day out, for a year or more.. looking for that +positive change in life. + +as i child, i would read the crooked framed pictures in my grandmother's +hallway. old pictures from the family, the coat of arms, and one poem. +weird, that i remember certain parts, the author and more, yet I can't +track down the full text of this poem. + + "you are not in this world to live up to my expectations, + and I am not in this world to live up to yours.. + you are you, and i am i...." + +with guilt, comes a fundamental lack of feeling. i listen to music +and hear dry words against dull background sound. what normally +keeps me alive, is now whitenoise at best. i hate that feeling +more than words can describe. + + contrition \ken-'trish-en\ : the state of being contrite + + contrite \'kan-,trit\ 1: grieving and penitent for sin + or shortcoming + +how does one repay for one's internal conflict. if your mind sees your +sins and can't resolve them, how do you repay. grieving for actions +in the past, or actions lost in the prophecy of tomorrow. + +one day, i shall know resolution. + +=-= + +a recurring element of my life is the music i wrap myself in. +people often wonder why, and it simply can't be answered in +a few short words. i recently found myself on a long drive, +enjoying the music. being wrapped up in it, i begin to wonder +if that is where i get my heightened sense of guilt. + + brigid boden + + dreamt i saw you by my side, face was framed by candlelight + held my hand against your heart, said we'd never part. + can't you see, deep in me, + music loud and strong, a change for me to set you free + my love i must go on + + took my hand never let me stray + all my fears you pushed away + be with me was your last sigh + now you're gone, oh how i cry + + + shakespear's sister + + if this world is wearing thin + and you're thinking of escape + i'll go anywhere with you + i'll do anything it takes + but if you try to go alone + don't think i'll understand + + do i have to go down on my knees? + this is my 16th apology to you + with friends like me who needs enemies + + + portishead + + please couldn't you stay a while to share my grief, + it's such a lovely day to have to always feel this way, + and the time that i will suffer less, + it's when i never have to wait + + after time the bitter taste, + of innocence disintegrates, + scattered seed, buried lives, + histories of our disguise reborn, + circumstance will decide + + oh, can't anybody see, + we've got a war to fight, + never find out way, + regardless of what they say, + how can it feel this wrong + + + nine inch nails + + i am the hate you try to hide + and i control you + i take you where you want to go + i give you all you need to know + i drag you down i use you up + + my whole existence is flawed + + everyone i know + goes away in the end + you could have it all + my empire of dirt + i will let you down + i will make you hurt + + + tori amos + + Every finger in the room is pointing at me + I wanna spit in their faces + Then I get afraid what that could bring + I got a bowling ball in my stomach + I got a desert in my mouth + Figures that my COURAGE would choose to sell out now. + + I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets + Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets + I've been raising up my hands + Drive another nail in + + Why do we crucify ourselves + Every day I crucify myself + Nothing I do is good enough for you + Crucify myself + Every day I crucify myself + And my HEART is sick of being in chains + + I gotta have my suffering + So that I can have my cross + + + ani difranco + + you put a tiny pin prick + in my big red balloon + and as i slowly start to exhale + that's when you leave the room + + everything i do is judged + and they mostly get it wrong + but oh well + 'cuz the bathroom mirror had not budged + + + artificial joy club + + set me up then stomp me, you're sick & beautiful + squeeze me like your lemon, then mix with alcohol + shake me hard then down me, you're sick & beautiful + + + switchblade symphony + + can you see me going down + i am screaming out loud + and the fear of god is in me now + dissolve + + +Weeks later I wonder why I listen to these words. Perhaps it +is because of how beautiful the music that flows with these words +is. Or maybe they play off each other to make it so appealing. +Doesn't matter. + +As long as it feeds the emotions driving me onward in life. + +mea_culpa +05/28/98 + +ps: if you read this and are saying to yourself, "i know why he +wrote this", think again. you don't know me. at all. read the date +most of this was written on. + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0550.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0550.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f1688de6 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0550.txt @@ -0,0 +1,92 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Eyes on the Floor + ----------------- + +I think I'd like to stay optimistic (I THINK I would...), but it's hard +when you're staring into the toilet after the 6th time you've jacked off +that day, and you realize that you didn't even want to do it, something +just possessed you because your body knew the relief that it would find +when you were done. It's hard to be encouraged by anything when you know +that a large part of why you've managed to stay alive to this date is +comprised of the remedial effects of an orgasm (or several). There's +something frightening in that. That you've become that dependent on +something of that nature...that it's the only crutch that you have left +that can still support your weight most of the time, even if it's only +for a minute or two. Sometimes, you don't even think about sex; you just +keep a blank mind and go. Sometimes it hurts too much to think about sex, +because you know that there's no one who'd get that close to you, +particularly for a relationship. + +That's most of the problem, right? Relationships. No, I don't think it's +a universal fix-all, but the idealism of a relationship holds connections +to so many other and greater interlinked problems within its talons. I'm +17 and I've had one relationship in my life. Yes, one. And it wasn't +real; neither of us cared about each other and it ended after three +weeks. It's hard to find anything but emptiness in the world when you've +got this feeling that you're still going to be alone in whatever it is +that you're doing no matter what or when it is. Heh...and my parents +wonder why I've never had ambition in school... + +The two might be related, but...only sometimes, I think. Sometimes, I +manage to tune out the whole side on relationships. I can convince +myself, albeit sometimes in a state of repulsed panic, that I don't need +anyone. That I don't even WANT anyone. And then i can think of Her, and I +almost believe myself because it seems like such a distant possibility +that a girl that perfect would ever want to even know me that it doesn't +feel real enough to hurt. I guess that's the part that hurts half the +time. The other half is the part where reality sinks in. + +I don't know. It all seems ridiculous, but it all always seems +ridiculous. Everything. Only...today was extremely disheartening 'cuz all +of the sudden I realized...it's too late! My life could turn perfect +right now, and although I'd be happiER, i wouldn't be at all happy. Even +if I had everything that I wanted. The rage built up too much over the +years, and it consumed me. I am it. I hate and want to hate too much. I +just can't fit in, and I don't even want to try because I did once and it +made me only more tired. + +You can't control rage. You can control how much of it can take over your +external self, and you can control what it makes you do to other people. +You can't control its growth. Suppress it, and it'll grow under your +thumb. Slide it behind a facade and it will grow until it consumes the +bricks with its heat. Eventually, the rage will have grown and consumed +ravenously, and what it doesn't capsize it simply distorts and disfigures +beyond prior recognition. Before you know it, you'll be unable to keep +patient for anything or anyone. You'll be either ready to fall off the +end of your seat with anxiety, or you'll feel unable to even levitate +yourself from it with depression. It's more or less a daily coin toss. +You may find yourself suddenly snapping out of reveries of biting the +flesh off of another human being in a fight for lack of a better release +of the rage you picture spewing forth, with your teeth-clenched and your +eyes staring acid holes into the desk/table/chair/wall in front of you. +Or more likely, the floor. It's hard to look up, but down is right there. +Right there to send your hate. But you don't have the finances to mail it +away in any significant or alleviating portions. Ah, it's not helping.... +just go jack off again... + + +agrajag + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0551.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0551.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ef9c2ed4 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0551.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Can Any of us Get Ahead in Our Lifetime + --------------------------------------- + +The 1997 year has come to a close and once again it is time for me to +figure out how much the taxman is going to take. I did pretty well +this year clearing just over twenty-eight thousand after taxes +(Federal, State, Social Security, and Medicare). My earned income +came from two jobs and unemployment compensation. Imagine making +forty thousand dollars but only being able to keep two thirds--that +is the power of taxes. I wonder how many people actually try living +off their gross instead of net income? Quite a few I'll bet. + +I don't have a budget or bother with trying to budget money. People +who tend to have credit problems or spend beyond their means should +worry about budgets. I tend to be what many would call a "tightwad" +or "penny pincher." Course I don't like the name being tagged on me +even if it is true. I guess it's from growing up the way I did-- +always saving. My family always saved yet we never had any new cars. +Even though we had the money my dad often didn't like seeing my mom +buy new things he felt "we" didn't need. Back in 1987 my mom bought +me a $150 walkman which my dad threw across the room in rage when he +discovered the price. He couldn't relate to "buying the best" +especially when one could settle for a $30 walkman instead. Course I +should be thankful since my parents saving helped pay for 85% of my +college education (which was at a public, in state, university). + +This brings us to the question of what the hell did I do with the +remaining money the government let me keep? Well, in 1997 I invested +17.5k of the money into stocks and mutual funds. I lived off the +other 10k plus a couple thousand in interest from savings and cashing +bonds. + +Living at home for the first couple of years during my career allowed +me to save most of my paycheck, which I then invested into stocks and +mutual funds. No kids, wife, or student loans also helped. I +estimate, given an average market I may be able to reach my one +hundred grand goal by the turn of the century. Then, with the power +of compounding, the money will double every seven to ten years. With +any luck I'll have a million dollars by the time I'm sixty. However, +it is very important not to get too carried away with money and +investing such that you aren't enjoying what you make in the present. +Of course it seem that not many people have to worry about this. + +I invest so I can afford that house, car, motorcycle, etc. down the +road. I also invest to have a security blanket. Working long hours +or doing something I despise is a trap I want to avoid. Having some +savings allows me to not have to take anyone else's shit. The bottom +line is to not fall into the "slave" trap where you HAVE to work and +are living paycheck to paycheck. + +Some people only save money through their employer's pension plan. +This is a great tax free way to save--especially if the employer +matches contributions. It is also a good way to keep employees +around a long time (nothing wrong with that unless the employee hates +their job). Unfortunately, people rely on these pension and social +security payments too much rather then attempting to build their own +investment program and safety net. + +I make a decent wage compared to the US average. When I hear about +people making 20-30k before taxes and have a 100k home I wonder how +they are surviving? Paycheck to paycheck? A thirty-year mortgage +means you will probably be paying 250-300k for a 100k house! Run the +numbers and find out for yourself. Rent, insurance, car maintenance, +food, and the bare necessities cost me 12k a year and I'm a +"tightwad." Throw in a house, wife and kids and I'd probably be +living paycheck to paycheck. + +Think about it for a moment. Are you controlling money or is it +controlling you? If you lost your job and were out of work for a +month would you survive? + +Life isn't always hard roads or happy times. It's a mixed blessing +of the two. I believe it is important to enjoy the hear and now but +I also believe one can overdo a good thing. Invest a good 10-25% of +your earned income, keep a two or three-month survival fund (savings) +and enjoy the rest while you are able to. + +EPILOGUE + +I wrote the above in early 1998. Now, ten months later, and looking +at today's depressed stock market I'm staring to wonder if I'm +kidding myself about "getting ahead." I realize, and you should to, +the stock market is a long-term investment. However, I can't help +theorizing about conspiracies of getting people to invest their hard- +earned money into what may turn out into a bottomless pit where only +the rich reap the benefits. Could it be someone's sick idea of +giving the working man a false hope for a better tomorrow? Promising +early retirement and more money then they can spend in their time +left--the good life we all seek. Perhaps the market is a false +prophet or maybe it is another way for the rich to siphon funds from +the middle and working class. Hell, I don't know where I get these +crazy ideas from but I do know that I will continue to invest. +However, from now on I'm going be a little more cautious especially +when it comes to high tech stocks. + + +Still in the ballgame and playing to win, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0552.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0552.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c2b1d684 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0552.txt @@ -0,0 +1,155 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Emotional census and a glass of self + ------------------------------------ + +Is the glass half-empty or half-full? Nothing feels worse than having a +tired clich as that sum up a feeling or sentiment. Still, sometimes we +fight the urge within ourselves to find the perfect and eloquent way to +express something when a tired rhetorical or metaphor fits all too well. +Sometimes, the reason these cliches have become so is because they are the +essence of how things are, already perfectly pre-worded. + +The empty/full rationale, in this case, in an emotional one. I think it is +a common human condition to look within us, to see if everything is as it +should be, or at least running parallel to how we think it should be. To +find out if our successes are what we had in mind, if our quality of life +meets the demands we set months and years ago, and if our hearts are +fulfilled as they need to be in order to make life itself an enjoyable, +worthwhile, and livable endeavor. I've been polling myself of late, and +have found, empty or full, I am half of what I have known myself to be and +short of what I want to be. + +Career, goals, and successes are all approximate to what I've had in mind +at various points in my life. All are "full enough", for all intents and +purposes. I have a home, friends, and can feel the warmth of my parents +love for me, even this far away from them, as if I still clung to chest +with a hand no larger than quail^s egg. But what of the heart? It is far +from full. I know so, because I can clearly recall the feeling of it being +so. + +With that in mind, I wondered if that were in fact true, why was I still +happy? If I were "half a man", so to speak, I should not be content with +life as I am. So that raised the next obvious question: do we necessarily +need to be "full". Our hearts crave substance, and abhor emptiness. We +lament and feel the perceived fullness of the hearts around us as way of +applying emotional spackle to our vacancies. We find ourselves renting +romantic comedies or even finding human depth and fulfillment in Hallmark +commercials in some depraved effort to consume empty calories of a +heart-warmed meal of surrogate love. + +I used to sustain myself thus, and ache more at that need to do so than the +times of unfulfillment themselves. At the same time, I can think of times +that there was a "full". When every cache and crevasse was filled to +bursting with friends, lovers, and loved ones. They sit before me like +those yellow and black monochrome photographs from the turn of the century +- somehow seeming clearer and crisper than the vibrant Kodachrome we have +available to us today. Why do we keep photographs? The moments within +them are clearly gone, escaped from us due to the passing of time. We keep +them, whether available, displayed, or on our person, because they are +moments worth keeping and cherishing. Emotion, feeling, and even the ache +of feelings gone by should be perceived no differently. + +But I digress. So I am neither empty nor full is that a concern? What +I've found poignant is not the empty/fullness, but rather the lack of +concern about it, one way or the other. As I've said, I can remember +fullness, and touch times of emptiness if I feel so compelled to stand +emotionally naked before myself. But do I crave it? Do I *need* it as I +think I do, or should for that matter? I say nay. Like old photographs, I +don't look at them to conjure up the urge to crawl within that moment. To +crave the past is to express, without admitting so, that we are emptier +than we can possibly face that we've allowed things to fall so far from +grace, when we obviously had right at some previous point in time. + +Another digression, my apologies. They seem as controllable as the ability +to fly when we fall in a dream. + +As I said, I have come to wonder if it is basically important to be full. +I will not advocate the benefits of being emotionally empty. I will say one +needs to traverse there (and generally we all do, and rarely by our own +design) in order to know the capacity of ourselves how vacant we can be in +order to better see how much is required to become full. + +One thing I have come to appreciate about "halfness" (poetic license, not +poor grammar, rest assured) is that it brings us something that fullness +lacks. It creates a fire of passion within us, with the ache of vacancy as +a fuel. Never are we hungrier than when we are without. One could agree +that that emptiness, by virtue of being more vacant, would have more fuel, +and would thus burn hotter and stronger. I disagree as many may already +have, that this is generally not true. Emptiness contains nothing, and as +a result, has nothing to consume. It is only when we need to fend off the +abyss, and at the same time, obtain our desires, that we have enough +character to stoke with a poker of motivation and not desperation. + +When we are full, we become complacent. Some are wise and perceptive +enough to appreciate these moments and give them their due. But for the +most of us, we can recall too many occasions that our complacency made our +passions lapse and become lazy and as a result, we allowed the fires to +dwindle far past the point to save, no matter the amount desperate +rekindling. Almost all of us have lost in this manner. + +Still, we mustn't shun these times. We must also embrace these as we do +the emptiness. We must let these times or the loss of them become the +piss and vinegar burning in our hungry stomachs. We must allow them to be +become an obtainable beacon, even if they be only the empty allure of the +green light seen from Gatsby's dock. I think of the example of the tales +of knights and chivalry. I didn't realize until late in life until the +fables had been too often told that they generally did not end up with +their lady faire. They did everything for them, and selflessly in their +name, without sex, without a kiss, and sometimes, without a touch at all. +Instead, it was the gesture that was their foremost goal, and they filled +their "manly" needs with handmaidens and whores. But when it came to the +heart, it was fulfilled in spirit alone. + +With all this in mind, tangents both included and aside, I have come to +appreciate the "halfness". I come to appreciate what I have so easily +neglected and forgotten in times past. When we are unmotivated, nothing +propels our ambition like hunger. I think trying to tack this hunger upon +someone in an effort fill it, as would some ambitious landlord to an empty +space, is poorly crafted logic. There are not many times in our lives that +we are passionate and not passionate in the traditional sense that we +often think of when involved with another. I'm talking about a raw, +unfocused, passion. I'm talking about the passion for words, for company, +for expression, and for self. I'm talking about enjoying the nuances of +thought, be it another's or ours. To hone and whet that sensation is to +appreciate wielding it. The better tempered it is, the stronger it becomes. + +I do not crave a lifetime of "halfness", and I think that goes without +saying. While there is value in longing, well applied, there is no benefit +to denial for the sake of some composed nobility via emotional martyrdom. +Instead, I'm just saying that I will no longer call these times as being +"without". There is so much of one's self to fill that space with, and not +with the wispy smoke of want and desire. Instead, it can be filled with +all the parts of ourselves we never know until we are alone: the +aforementioned passion, the strength, and the strength to admit the +frailties we discover along the way. When the time comes, this is the part +we bring to another honestly, openly, and willingly with more than enough +to spare. + +And, just for the sake of not leaving anything uncrossed or undotted: if +the glass has something in it, it's full enough. + + +- capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0553.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0553.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9d821768 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0553.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + What's Wrong With You? + ---------------------- + + The time has come, I feel the writers block that's been sitting +behind my eyes has finally vanished, and it seems I can get the words that +I think all day out onto some form of media. Usually, it's just a case of +being too disgusted to write, thinking that nobody will appreciate it +anyway, or look at it and think it's just a file of meaningless bitching +and nitpicking. + +Most of the past year and a half of my life has been pretty unpleasant, for +different reasons. Mostly, it's been caring about someone I'd never have a +chance with, worthless jobs and bullshit friends. Don't make the assumption +that every minute that has passed has been miserable for me. I have had a +lot of good times, and have good memories of this part of my life, but +there are a lot of bad spots of it, and I can't blame all of it on other +people. I'll be the first to admit that I cause some of my own problems, +but since I'm the only one to blame for those, I can generally deal with +them. The things that really get to me are the problems that can't really +be blamed on a person. Somehow, things are easier to deal with if there's +someone to point at and say, "This is all because of you." + +I can't really blame anyone for my dead end job except myself, and that's +not really a big problem. I'm just starting to get sick of going in for 8 +hours a day, taking shit from customers, co-workers, and bosses, being +underpaid, doing far more and better work for the company than they deserve +and getting jack shit in recognition for it. I guess I'm ok with the whole +thing though. I mean, this is the wonderful world of having a career. It's +a lot easier to get up and go in the morning when I think about the +prospect of being homeless, and sleeping on someone^s couch when I can't +pay my rent. I didn't even bother going to work today, mostly because I'm +so disgusted with the whole work experience there. The part about this that +bothers me is that I'm already fed up with this, and I'll pretty much need +to hold a job for most of the rest of my life. The idea of doing this sort +of shit for the next 50 or so years is a tiring one, but I'll manage, I +always seem to find a way. + +My friends are another thing that brings me grief from time to time. I have +a lot of good friends, who I know would do anything for me, and then a few +fair-weather friends, but everyone has those. You can get used to it. There +are times, though, that I need people not to give me shit about my fuck-ups +and shortcomings, and nobody seems to recognize this. I go through times +that I need to be left alone, without any social contact other than my +computer and music. Some people just can't tell or don't care when these +times are, and that can be bad. I retreat into my shell and try to avoid +the word for a while, and people keep poking at me, with whatever goal they +have in mind. All that really does is show me who my best friends are, and +brings me closer to them. + +Caring about someone is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to +me. Most people consider this a good thing, probably because it's worked +out for them at least once in their lives. When I realize that someone +(read: female) means something to me, the first thing that goes through my +head is "Oh shit." + +Yeah, I'm being pessimistic about it, but I always seem to care about +people I can never have, so it seems like this will be an ongoing thing. +This sort of problem is probably the worst, and there's not a lot that can +be done about it. There are some standard responses to it: you can beat the +fuck out of the nearest solid object, you can hop a bus and leave town, or +you can try your friendly neighborhood liquor store. None of them really +help much, but this is a kind of situation where you can't really sit +around and do nothing, it leaves you with a feeling that you must do +something about it, no matter how futile it may be. + +I tried the drinking route, it didn't help much, but it makes you forget, +makes the time go by a bit faster, and when you come out of it, memories +are hazy. It doesn't really do anything to change the outcome, and you'll +probably just end up looking like a fool because of over-consumption. +Eventually, I got out of this because a friend told me that the person I +was drinking over thought it was a big negative, so I cut down hard, which +anyone who has known me as of late will find a big shock. I had my friends +and a lot of other people I really respect telling me to stop drinking, and +I brushed them off, just telling them that I would be fine and to mind +their own business. Anyone who has asked me this will be happy to know that +I finally did, but not because of their requests, and things look pretty +much the same. I guess there is something to be said for seeing every day +with clarity, even if I don't have the brainpower to interpret it properly. +I'm just kind of tired of being put down as immature because of things like +this, just because I care about shit, and sometimes, things just fucking +get to me. + +I feel kind of empty now that I've gotten these thoughts out of my head and +into a place where the rest of the world can see them, even if they didn't +make the transition to text as well as they should have. Very few people +are talented enough to get things out of their mind without them changing. +Maybe somehow, this will point me at some sort of solution for my problems, +I originally thought that just toughing them out would work, and they would +eventually resolve themselves, but that hasn't seemed to work, so I guess +it's time to find something else to try. When I'm happy again, I'll be the +person that everyone knew before, always able to make someone laugh, never +tired, always up for something to do. I'll be glad to see that version of +me back again. I kinda miss him. + + +A wink, a smile, and a kiss good-bye. + +el_jefe + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0554.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0554.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2c3b004f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0554.txt @@ -0,0 +1,90 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Plug in Drug + ---------------- + +I've got two phone lines in my apartment. One line I use for voice +and the other for data. GTE gave me the option of having my phone +numbers unpublished and since I did not care to receive incoming +calls on the data line I decided to only have that line unpublished. + +Before turning the ringer off on my data phone I did get several +interesting calls. One person, who was barely discernible over the +static, called from Saudi Arabia. Another time, on a Sunday night +around 10pm, I got a call from Nielsen Media Research. + +I still wonder how Nielsen Media Research got my phone number +considering it was unlisted--unless they dialed randomly. The call +came around 10pm Pacific Time but 1am where I suspected Nielsen was +calling from (Dunedin, Florida). + +The lady from Nielsen asked me if I would like to take part in their +rating system by filling out a viewing diary for a week. And since I +have and watch a lot of TV I decided to become a part of their +statistics. Not to mention the Nielsen people need regular folk like +myself who clock into their TV like some people do a part time job. + +Hey, the television is a large part of my life and I can relate to +some of the characters on TV as if they were my best friends. Sure, +there isn't any feedback but sometimes it's better that way. Give me +images and sound and I'll be happy as a lark. Add a little laughter +and various sundry emotions and I'm happier sitting on the couch then +out amongst the world that can't relate to people like me. For me, +the TV is my drug of choice. I am addicted and much like an +alcoholic, smoker or heroin addict I don't want to quit. + +A couple weeks after the Nielsen Media Research called my yellow +diary arrived. I began to record my viewing habits for one week +starting on a Thursday (back in October 1997). When the week came to +an end my viewing habits were around the 25-hour range. Most of +which was spent watching sports--NFL Football and the World Series +(Florida Marlins 1997 World Series Champs!). If you subtract sports +programs I typically watch about two hours of TV a day. Most of +which is news or news programs like Dateline, 20/20, 48 Hours, Prime +Time Live, or 60 minutes. But hey, look at the bright side, at least +I didn't contribute a higher rating to something like "Friends!" + +I believe twenty-five hours is too much television but I think I'm +still under the US average. In the quest to know more having a +visual to go with the audio really adds to the experience. And like +most hard core TV watchers I switch the channel much too often. +Sometimes I try to watch two programs at once--like 48 hours and +20/20 or sports and some movie. It's horrible and I hate doing it +but I can't stand sitting through commercials. Stuff like this can't +be put in the Nielsen TV diary as there isn't enough room. + +I guess there are a lot of TV viewers like myself otherwise programs +like Drew Carey, Dateline, and 20/20 could not make it into the top +ten programs of the week. + +Maybe the best choice is to not have a TV; however, I couldn't +imagine having an extra 25 hours every week. What would I do? Hell, +what would we as a society do if we didn't have television? Perhaps +we'd actually meet our neighbors, participate in more community +activities, and be more social, outgoing, and friendly. + + +Welcome to my neighborhood, +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0555.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0555.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..009768e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0555.txt @@ -0,0 +1,142 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + An Alternative Heaven (and/or Hell) + ----------------------------------- + + It's been awhile since I've read an issue of F.U.C.K., but today I +took a little time to peruse a few issues and found something I'd like to +react to. Atheist writers aren't uncommon in F.U.C.K., and as a whole, +they tend to have a very specific position on "the afterlife." That +position is mainly "it doesn't exist." I agree very much so with this +position, but for a different reason. + + The common atheistic standpoint on the afterlife is either "when +you die, nothing happens at all," or "I don't know what happens when you +die, so I won't say anything to begin with." The much understood and +misinterpreted philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche had a very interesting +position on the "afterlife," one which is often ignored, even when he is +the subject of discussion. His position was that there was no afterlife, +and in fact, there was no beginning, no end, no "becoming," just everything +in between, forever. He called it "the eternal recurrence," and few +actually understand what it means, or give a fuck about the idea to begin +with. + + But the implications of eternal recurrence are endless. If true, +it would mean that there is no end to life, that at death, the same life is +lived again. This would mean that every mistake one makes will be made +again, every bad memory one has will be experienced again. All that sucks +will suck forever. + + Of course there are positive implications as well. Every mother +(who cares) gets to see her kid grow up again and again and again, every +"first time" is experienced again and again and again. You get the point. + + I would guess that one of the reasons eternal recurrence is rarely +(if ever) seriously considered is because it doesn't [offhand] make sense +to a lot of people. Without really thinking about it, few people could +see why and for what reasons the Universe would be stuck in an endless +loop with no "hope" of escaping. + + But explaining how eternal recurrence "could be true" only requires +two basic assumptions: + +1.The Universe repeats itself, or, "the universe exists forever, but does + not expand forever." + +2.Randomness does not truly exist, all things are motivated by other + things, and nothing is ever arbitrarily guided. + +Assumption #1 is basically the backbone of astrophysical/cosmological +debate as of now. No one really can tell whether or not there is enough +mass within the universe for it to collapse on itself. Right now the +consensus seems to be shifting towards a Universe that expands +indefinitely, that simply dies a pathetic "heat death" and is done with. + +But Nietzsche had a different opinion. In fact, in "The Will to Power", +Nietzsche becomes a physicist and declares "The law of the conservation of +energy demands eternal recurrence." In other words, heat death "cannot +happen," for it would imply a halting of motion, and motion is energy, and +energy cannot be destroyed. In fact, one might be able to justify a +repeating Universe with OR without enough mass to "suck it back in," simply +because of the laws of thermodynamics. If the universe were to truly +expand "forever," for "infinite time," then it would HAVE to reach a point +of infinite expansion, of zero energy. This point is a contradiction in +itself, and so what do you have instead? Everything in between, again, and +again, and again. + +As of now entropy tends to favor the expansion of the Universe, and we +mistakenly confuse it with time. Entropy is what kills us; time is simply +"a dimension in which things exist." (Including entropy) But who's to say +that entropy can just as easily be reversed when the Universe approaches +its "heat death," that the entire process simply reverts backwards and all +of our lives are lived in a completely reversed motion, with us unaware the +entire time? It would be completely natural, and completely fine. Any +physical or chemical equation can be reversed, so why can't you? The +playing field just happens to favor expansion right now, but looking at it +from the other perspective, there doesn't seem to be a reason that it +couldn't favor compression, either. + + Point #2, that "randomness does not exist," is rather hard to discuss +in detail. One can't prove the existence or lack thereof of randomness. +I've "learned" in Chemistry that "electrons move randomly" because of the +Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, but what the hell does that mean? Do +they truly move randomly because WE CAN'T SEE THEM? With the advent of +quantum mechanics science began to favor the concept of randomness, because +of the difficulty of prediction. But this says nothing about the Universe +and everything about us. Just because we're too big and clunky to look at +things without fucking them up doesn't mean they are arbitrarily moving in +random directions. Non- randomness simply implies absolute causality; +everything is responsible for the occurrence of anything. Calling it +"causality" almost does a disservice to Nietzsche, for he felt that cause +and effect were arbitrary distinctions in themselves, that there was no +cause and effect but instead a "re-distribution of forces." True or not, +it is merely a semantic issue and ties in with the reversal of entropy. + + While I cannot "prove" the truth of eternal recurrence, I can at +least explain the rationale behind it. It needn't be a religious belief +of any sort; rather it is a scientific and philosophical position. It +rests on two assumptions, and no more. + + It presents the ultimate version of "heaven and hell," where the +two are forever blended in a brutal and symbiotic harmony. Why aspire to +live forever in happiness by sacrificing the pleasures of carnal existence, +when carnal existence IS forever? + + Eternal recurrence is ruthless and brutal; it offers no hope for +those who die young, who die painfully, who suffer throughout life. It is +the very nature OF nature itself to give a shit whether or not a few of its +components are satisfied with its processes. Might as well go with the +flow, when you're a part of the flow to begin with. Beats the hell out of +making up "God," and trying to explain how a completely loving entity also +causes pain, suffering, anguish, etc. God will soon slit his own wrists +with Occam's Razor. It just takes time. + + It is my position that eternal recurrence is indeed true, and I +needn't sacrifice anything to live in accordance with that position. All +I've got to do is live my life as I see fit, and create a comfortable niche +for myself. After all, I'll be here forever. Might as well get comfortable. + +--Lord_H + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0556.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0556.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..5be74d16 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0556.txt @@ -0,0 +1,134 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Chinese Water Torture + --------------------- + +I thought about her again today. Once more, my mind touched upon the hole +where my heart should be, and once more it remembered her... And yet, what +is to be remembered? There was nothing between us to recall, not even +anything intangible to carry with me. I carry with me the loose ends of +many ropes that I started but hadn't the courage to continue with, once +they bade that they leave my person and pervade to another. Some day, those +ropes will be my noose. + +And then I remembered her again a little later. There's not much to +remember; just her face, sublime in its demure honesty...but that is All. +It never lasts for more than a few moments. To perpetuate the reverie past +that point is to leave the valves open too long, and draughts of bitter ash +inundate the senses and leave them in a burning coagulation, the pain of +which surpasses the hollowness of a blank mind. The heart is an insatiable +sponge and vacuum, but the mind may still hold thoughts with which to +entertain and occupy itself. Thoughts of resurrection, of retribution, of +life, of hope...and again the valves open and again must be closed. + +Once more, her countenance struck across my fancy. It happens with such an +insidious acceleration now, as though an inexorable drop of water. As my +throat burns for repose from the drought, another and another drop yet hit. +Cruel, cold, impalpable drops of among the most tenuous and unsatisfying +waters on earth: those of desperation and an inhibited longing. Those of +the pallor that I see in a cadaverous caricature of a world, and yet I +continue on in hopes that she will seek me out. + +Drip. And perhaps it should be wisest, all things considered and well +counseled, that I move on and look for another. But as I walk among other +possibilities, I can't find what I seek. A bovine mind can hardly be +countered effectively by a size C and tight jeans. I don't want sex; I want +life, and a companion to share it with - and yet I act as though I would +stand a chance at any of the three! + +Drip. No, nothing capricious will do. Intimacy. A soulmate. A reason to +revel in victory and slump in defeat. A reason to feel. To feel all of the +things that I no longer feel with authenticity. A reason to Live. And yet, +instead i sit, perched helplessly upon the most desolate chair I could have +picked, writing with the most desolate words I could have used, and acting +in holistic futility in attempting to tie up my mind long enough not to +remember that I have nothing to remember. + +Drip. When none understand you, and none truly care about the things +you're most passionate about, you needn't find anyone's condescension to +feel deprecated. Oh, but far be it! For here I stand, and even the +slightest breeze now makes me stagger like gale-force. So why, then, do I +still find solace in the sunset? In the crispness of brisk fall air? In the +magnificent and impermeable splendor of nature? + +Drip. After all, these things cannot be carried with me. They are no +spoils of any journey, and they leave as fast as they come, much like Drip. +her. Little more than a quick inhale of her perfection, and then the sun +finished setting and she was gone. Does the sun rise again, though belated? +Perhaps it, too, wished for a break. It is inconceivable that fatigue would +not befall and permeate the Atlas of Radiance. Helios, too, may need his +sleep. + +Drip. But I am more cognizant than I let on. Nature is truly immortal. +Humanity may pollute, it may rape, pillage, plunder...but withal, nature +will be there. As I write, yet another plant is creeping up and bursting +through our mighty asphalt and concrete sculptures of austerity and +sterility. Yet another FuckYou stems out from under our artificial earth. I +dare you to defy it, I DARE YOU!!! + +Drip. Nature is our by far our elder, and in fact our very derivation. We +could not conquer it if we tried. Extinctions can occur each day, and still +it continues on. Some day, it shall all topple and so shall we. I scoff at +the feeble assertion that we are masters of nature; to disrupt, repress, +and destroy something is not to hold mastery over it, and neither should +this be mistaken for what it is. It is simply more patient. + +Drip. We may use it and force its might and grandeur to defer to our +designs, but at our end, it will be its maggots and molds and fungi that +reap the benefits of our decay. All of our concrete phalluses will one day +sink into the earth and we shall be but a scar in mundane memory. + +Drip. I often ponder what I so indolently seek, when I have nothing and +foresee less, still. I have learned, through lessons spanning years, that +the only falling into place in life is when you ultimately lose your +footing and fall into the desolate convolutions of the Black Widow's web. I +stare upon her red hourglass underside now, watching as each grain of sand +settles to the bottom, one. + +Drip. by one in tandem. I should not have believed, in prior naivete, that +so much sand could move so fast, nor that such velocity could have a +nightmarish, narcotic effect upon my very soul. But still, I hear the +incessant swishing of the sand through the glass, and still I do nothing to +stop it. It doesn't stop, no matter how much I miss. + +Drip. it. It simply continues away, remorselessly, perhaps even +unknowingly. And I remain, and likely shall for years after the last grain +falls, and the hourglass is inverted to prepare for the next fool. That +shall be my true test of time. + +Drip. When the remainder of my existence is nothing more than finishing the +trek down the back of the hill. When every face Drip. is just another gray +orb, and every intricacy and meaning is lost upon my very mind...gone. + +Drip. forever; and me just seeking + +Drip. deliverance + +Drip. by the hands + +Drip. of death. + + +-agrajag http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Club/1610/Dep.html + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0557.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0557.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..4a1c0ac1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0557.txt @@ -0,0 +1,112 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Hipster Flare + ------------- + + So I went shopping for jeans last night and it turned out + to be one of the worst shopping experiences I have ever + had. I have lost about 35 pounds, and all of the jeans I + own, save one black pair, slide down my hips and make me + look like one of those silly skaters with the butts of + their pants hanging somewhere near their kneecaps. So, + I decided it was high time I bought some jeans that fit - + a present to myself, if you will. + + It was a terrible mistake. For years now I have purchased + all of my jeans in the mens department. A glance through the + jeans shelves told me that for some reason, men no longer + come in my size - 27/29s. They came in my size last year, + but apparently I am now too skinny and short to be a man. + (Woah to the short, skinny man.) So I wandered over to + the "8 - 20 year old" jeans in the little boys section, + thinking that I might find something of value there, slightly + disturbed that as a normal size 23 year old woman I had to + look for jeans in the toddler section. + + Baggy. Loose fitting. A bizarre pair of jeans called + "Student" that had legs that were as wide as - nay, wider - + than the waist. I could not find, in the piles and piles of + denim, anything that didn't look like something an out of + work plumber or a 16th St. Mall homeless homegirl would wear. + Even the "classic" jeans had wide legs and odd, sagged out + asses. I was not to be deterred, however. I delved deeper, + finally overjoyed to see something called "boot cut". I + owned and loved a pair of boot cut jeans once - ever so + slightly flared below the knee, perfect for sliding over my + Doc Martens or riding boots, whichever was appropriate at + the time. To my horror, these new boot cut jeans can only be + described as bellbottoms. I threw them all down in disgust + and walked to the teen/ young miss department, resigned to + the fact that I would have to suffer with women's jeans. + + Women's jean designers must never wear their jeans. The + high waists and strange pocket sizes make me (and women in + general) look strangely out of proportion, with unusually + wide asses. (Small, widely spaced pockets make butts look + big. It's the way of the world.) But I figured, with my new + slim size, that I could possibly find something that wouldn't + make me look like an elephant and still be comfortable. I + was horribly wrong. + + Hipster flare. Bellbottoms. More dreadful Student + jeans. "Hard" jeans, which have an interesting color but + a horrific shape. More boot cuts wearing the bellbottom + shape, as if they were going to a masquerade. "Hi, I am + really a nasty 70's style pair of denims, but I'll call + myself boot cut to cause the frazzled shopper to scream + in agony." Carpenter jeans. I had a pair of carpenter + jeans once. They were the only things I could fit into + when I was a fat teenager. I am just not gonna go there + again. I finally found something called "Men's style jeans + for Women." I snatched up a pair of 28/29's, thinking I could + deal with something a little big in the waist to trade in + for a lack of hipster flare, Hardness, or Student. Again, + I was fooled. (Note: Men's jeans for woman do not have + the size printed on the tag at the waist. It simply says, + even for the largest size, S, presumably for "small." No + wonder women have eating disorders. Jean designers insist + that you be ashamed of your size, big or small.) + + In the dressing room I surveyed the fit in despair. Way + too big in the legs. The back pockets were so wide in back + I could SEE them in the front, crawling toward my hipbones + like fat hands from a bad frat movie. Worse, the ass sagged, + so I knew that they had been DESIGNED to look that way. I + ripped them off in a frenzy, seized with the fear that + never again would I be able to buy a simple pair of jeans. + + I left the store, annoyed. One of two things has happened. + I am either too old to wear the "latest styles" or people + have gone totally insane. I doubt that I am too old + because I wear some pretty "hip" clothes to work and am + perfectly fine with that. I have mountains of velvet and + PVC and leather and satin, all of which I wear happily, + not at all disturbed by the fact that I might be "too old" + to wear them. So there is only one conclusion. + + Everyone has gone insane, and the average Gen X yuppie + yearns to look like a homeless hipster wearing the latest, + greatest, widest, hipster flares. + + demonika + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0558.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0558.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1d7fe0fa --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0558.txt @@ -0,0 +1,104 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Deep Inside + ----------- + +I awoke from another nightmare. "My God, does it ever stop?" I asked myself +as I stood up and reached for a cigarette. She had invaded my dreams and +subconscious for four years now, and no matter what I did, what drugs I +took, she always came back. + +I looked at the clock. 4:22. "God damn," I told myself, "four years since a +good nights sleep and I'm still alive. Barely." I was about to go insane +over all of this - first the stress of expulsion from school when I was a +teen, to the suffering and misery of not forgetting about a love that never +loved back. You'd think that it would pass, but hell. She was the perfect +girl, I always told everyone. I used to think we were made for each other. +I used to think there was a chance. I used to think I was human. I've +become a monster, I thought, deep inside I've become a monster. And there's +only one way to stop this--stop this for good. + +I reached into the closet and pulled out an old attache case that my father +had given me. Inside, I saw my blue Smith & Wesson case. Fingers trembling, +cigarette in mouth, and sweat dripping down my face, I pulled out the case +and laid it on the bed open. I saw my silver, shining device of death. A +.357 snub-nose revolver that I had received as a teen from an ex-cop. What +a life I'd led. She must be still sleeping, I thought. She'd be at home, +alone, in bed. My thoughts ran away with me, I collapsed, and lay crooked +and bent on the bed like a child who'd been punished, crying and sobbing +her name. "WHY?!" I cried out. "WHY ME? WHY DID THIS HAVE TO FUCKING HAPPEN +TO ME? WHY CAN'T THIS ALL JUST STOP?! GOD, HELP ME SARAH! HELP ME!!!..." + +I struggled to get my limp, broken soul erect again. Once more, I told +myself, once more I'd been damaged. I never escape it. She follows you, +tortures you, rapes your mind and corrupts your soul. Now. NOW. + +I packed five brass-cased silver-tipped .38 shells into my .357, thinking a +different shell size might confuse the police. "They'd be looking for a +.38. The bore markings would be too close for them to think anything else." +I clothed myself, put my black bomber coat on, dropped my .357 into my +pocket, and walked out the door, heading for her flat. It took me 35 +minutes to reach it, and I stood outside the door until about 6:00 looking +at the window, waiting for the lights to come on. Paranoid, heart pounding, +temperature rising. Pain returning to my limbs. That same teenage +nervousness of asking a girl out returned to me, as it always did when she +was in my vicinity. The lights flipped on. I walked slowly up the staircase +to her flat and knocked on the door. A pause. Another knock. By now my +entire body was limp and shaking, a cold sweat on my brow. My fingers +stroking the trigger and cylinder of my pistol like an act of foreplay. She +opened the door. + +"What are you doing here? I thought I had made everything clear to you +years ago. I'm not interested in you or a relationship with you. It's +nothing personal, but you have to understand. I know you love me, but I'm +afraid I just cannot return that love. I'm sorry." + +She started to close the door, and I stuck my foot in it to avoid another +night full of nightmares. "Sarah, I have to speak with you. Now. Just let +me in...I'll only be a couple minutes." The door re-opened. I walk inside. + +"Let me go get dressed." She said as she walked towards her bedroom. + +"Sarah, I can't wait anymore. I've been through too much torture. My mind +is destroyed. I have no life. I have no love. I have nothing." + +I slowly pull out the revolver. Sarah, standing in her pajamas, starts to +run for the door. I grab her. I draw the pistol towards her, holding her +arm and counting to five in my head, and watch her. Watch the fear. Watch +the nightmare. It's your turn, Sarah, It's your turn. She closes her eyes. +She fears that she'll die. I pull the pistol from her head to mine, ease +the hammer back, and pull the trigger. + +BLAM! + +I awake from another nightmare. "My God, does it ever stop?" + +Not when it's deep inside. + +nate (ae) +nate@nets.com +nate@wiredsolutions.net + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0559.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0559.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..206b86d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0559.txt @@ -0,0 +1,136 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + A Question Answered + ------------------- + +Why do females compare themselves to supermodels, actresses, and music stars? + +The answer to that question has transpired to myself today, and I am going +to share that with you this night. + +Earlier today I came home from work. No one was really around to do +anything with so I figured I might as well check out a friends web page +that had just been re-done. Going through the different pages, I found one +that held pictures (images) of different females that he thinks are +beautiful, or what he finds attractive. No wonder him and I never amounted +to anything more then friends. + +Even though he is not one to only be with girls that look a certain way, +going through the page, and looking through the pictures, I started doing +something that I have not done in a long time - compare myself. Of course +the pictures are re-touched, buffed, airbrushed, or perhaps some of them +actually manage to be real - either way though, I look nothing close to how +they do. Some of them, there are flaws or things I can see that I like +better about myself, or at least that I do not like about them. However, +for the majority, I wish I could look that good to someone else. + +There are two things I pride myself on, though I rarely get the chance to +show off as I would like to and that is my hair and my ass. I know I have +great hair, and I have a great little ass. Though that does not catch the +eyes usually like a girl that has a great set of eyes, or whatever. The +rest of me is in great shape. I know this. As time goes by, it will +continue to get in better and better shape as I continue to work out and +keep with my new way of living. + +The last few months though, I have not been able to work out like I +promised myself I would (which I had stuck to fairly well, up until then). +My stress and tension has been building up inside of me, and has not only +resulted in headaches more frequently (usually I never get headaches), +scattered thoughts (not so much writing), inability to concentrate as much +as I should, and now troubled sleep. All of those put together, for this +length of time turns out a very unhappy sort of girl. One that is crabby +or snappy, one that does not smile as much, and one that sighs now more +then talks. I hate how I have allowed myself to come. What can I do? + +Tomorrow I will be going to a doctor, and hopefully will get the go ahead +to being able to work out again. If not, I better get a damn quick remedy +to the reason that has been keeping me from being able to do my usual +routine. Three months is _too_ long of a time! + +"I like you when you're angry", "You're cute when you're upset." Oh, +that's a _great_ reason to push my buttons. If it wasn't for the fact that +I knew the person was just trying to get to me, because they think I get +cute that way, I would beat them. Goodness knows I have beaten others, why +should they be any different? Because they are just trying to lighten up +my mood. + +A question answered ... "Why do girls always compare themselves?" Hate to +say it, but it's not just media such as television, movies, and music, it's +how males and females alike react to the ones that are in the media. The +'media' and 'society' are just as guilty of it as the ones of us that are +reading this file. We have all done it. Thought, spoken, gesture, etc. +first instinct or impulse, thinking someone is awesome looking, great, or +wanting to get to know them based off of how they look or act - not based +off of what we know. + +Going through the links on the page, there are little titles with the +pictures, saying what he likes about the different pictures. I would say I +would think it would make them feel like a goddess having someone do that +to them, though I know better than that, too. + +Having yourself dissected in front of however many people is not a +compliment, but a way to rip apart someone from their very spirit. It +hurts more then compliments. It can be laughed off, shrugged away, or +forgotten, but somehow heard or seen enough it seeps in - leaving an effect. + +When males (or females for that matter) glamorize the other (stars of some +sort), how can we not look at ourselves and compare? It's only natural. + +Natural ways though are not always the most uplifting, and there must be +some way of snapping out of it. Not letting yourself be dragged through +the mud. Each of us are created looking slightly different and some of us +greatly different from others. That should be a plus not a strike against us. + +Yet, there I was, comparing myself to them. How they had their hair, wore +make-up (which I do not even wear, though maybe I should?), dressed, and +just overall looked. It's not healthy, it's not wise, and it^s not good. +Though how could I help myself. Thoughts started slowly slipping into my +mind "No wonder he didn't like my eyes." in reaction to seeing how the +girls eyeliner seemed to be almost a 1/4 inch thick around her eyes. "My +hair looks like that and I'm told I look too submissive for anyone's +liking." Yeah right. + +Maybe my attitude is a bit large, or overwhelming, though when I have not +had it at times, people miss it and encourage me to have it again. If it +weren't for how I am, I would not be me. There is no one else that I would +rather be, yet I find myself wondering what it would be like to be someone +that this person would find beautiful. + +"I'm not beautiful to some people." "Isn't it the point of the person doing +the picture to show your true beauty?" + +Cut the hair, dye the hair, buy new lipstick, start doing heavy eye makeup. +All things that I could do, and have done. Is it worth it in the end? No. + +The pictures are just what he found to be beautiful; it's not limited to or +all-inclusive. Remembering though, that numerous people have often +wondered what makes a girl think less of herself, or why they sometimes +compare themselves to others, I figured I might as well help Answer that +Question. Since I finally realized I held a piece of the answer, tell me - +is the Question Answered? + +- Me, Myself, and I +11/09/98 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0560.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0560.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..11758b19 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0560.txt @@ -0,0 +1,68 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Sometimes I Wonder + ------------------ + + Tonight, I've just been reading. Looking through old books, checking out +the news on the web, and just talking to people. It's pretty normal, seeing +as I love to add more information to my ever-consuming cranium. But one of +the things getting to me tonight is the F.U.C.K. Files. + + I've got a pretty good life. In fact, I^'d call it great, in general. I'm +16 years old, the only one of my friends to have a car (somewhat of a +blessing and a curse), and my family is pretty well off. I can afford to +blow my wads of cash on trivial things like Warhammer, and the new computer +I'm saving up for. Never in my life have I heard my parents raise their +voice at each other, and only occasionally at me. I have good friends who +are there for me, and I'm glad to be there to help them. Plus, I've got a +decent intellect to work with. Yeah, I have a great life. + + But when I see something like the F.U.C.K. Files, I really do feel kind of +stupid. This always happens to me. I have some sort of complex that I'll +never really understand. I look down on a lot of people. But when I have +the slightest respect for anyone, I feel rather low, like I'm not as good. +Like I'm not doing enough. Something. Fuck if I know why, but it just +happens. And when I read some of the stuff the Files have in store for me, +it really makes me wonder. + + Why is it that I have this great life? Why is it that people have to +suffer through such shit? You've all seen the examples. Nearly every single +one of these text files shows some sort of well-put human suffering. The +kind I've never known personally. Hell, the only one I've written so far +was a decent-at-best piece about the Dress Code at my school. That's the +worst thing I have to write about? When there's all this hate and violence +and stupidity everywhere? A fucking Dress Code? I don't know who or what to +be more angry at; their bad situation, my good situation, or just me for +bitching about my gift of a good life. + + As I look back on what I've written, it doesn't make too much sense. Once +more, I'm just bitching about nothing. Bitching about bitching, and about +how I can't bitch about things half as bad as others have to bitch about. +Heh. I'll never understand myself! + +Lexington +lexington@antisocial.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0561.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0561.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..909e68c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0561.txt @@ -0,0 +1,189 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The jaws that bite, the claws that catch + ---------------------------------------- + +We have to, in some way, admire those elusive parts of ourselves. Those +certain qualities be they thoughts, emotions, idiosyncrasies, what have +you that we have either never reigned under control or have only in the +best of times wrestled to the top of. There is something to respect about +having piece of your own being that seemingly roams free of its own accord. +While I, like most I'll assume, better appreciate the parts of ourselves +that we have squarely under control, have a special place for the parts +that inhabit us almost with a life of their own. + +Insecurity is one of those characteristics I caught slew almost entirely in +the wild years ago, and have since mounted upon the wall of conquests +within my head. It's form has been gutted of flesh and eyes replaced with +pupils of glass that seem to follow wherever you go, as if from beyond the +grave. That was a beast that appeared upon the near-unpopulated plains of +within during the Great Self-Awareness that took place around 10 years of +age. How it ravaged the Confidence that had just started roaming those +vast, open areas at that age. Confidence didn't know to travel in packs at +that time, and would attempt to stake out an area of territory by itself +more often than not. This thinking made it easy prey. Insecurity wouldn't +just kill it outright, it would play first. It would kill via wounding. +Slowly carved, open, uncoagulating wounds that bled and weakened Confidence +until it could do little more than lay down in surrender. + +How I despised both beasts back then. Insecurity for being so strong, so +stealthy, and so completely through in its hunt; and Confidence for being +so weak, so soft, and so susceptible - the perfect victim. I don't think +there has been a battle since that left me so tired and depleted that I +could barely marshal the forces to hunt and thus end the slaughter. It +wasn't until 15 years had gone by before Insecurity in turn became the +hunted, and pushed back into virtual extinction. It of course still +exists, as it should. It must remain on the plains, balancing the chain of +life within ourselves. It must be allowed to hunt off excess Confidence, +lest Confidence blurs the land and overpopulates making us no smarter than +population explosion of deer that have no room to move except in front of +the passing cars. We let Insecurity continue to hunt to keep ourselves in +check. + +That was one part of my own self that eventually fell under the gun of the +Great White Psyche one of many rouge and unwanted parts of ourselves that +we all learn to hunt. Be it from guidance, experience, wisdom, or tragedy, +we all become keener hunters, and the prey easier to find in our sights. I +don't claim to be particularly apt hunter, just a patient one. I also do +not claim arrogantly that every part of myself hunted is easy prey. I am +no better off in this regard than most. In fact, I have clearly come to +face those parts that still live in the wilds of within that will take a +great many years to come to terms with. + +The largest of which is loneliness. There is a great deal of difference +between being alone and loneliness. I enjoy being alone. Being Alone was +a beast that I domesticated rather that killed outright. It makes +excellent companionship when broken properly. It can roam among the native +parts of ourselves sleeping, eating, and co-existing without +destabilizing the balance we strive so hard to achieve. While despondent +and individual, it can still sit quietly at your feet like an old friend. + +Loneliness is a whole different beast. It is ambiguous, formless, and +frightening when you feel it near you. It roams when and where is pleases. +Into the Land of Happiness to foul and mark it, and down into the Valleys +of Despair where it adds easily to hostile and inhospitable environment. +It moves as it pleases, but not predictably nor in a planned manner. +Sometimes it plays the myth: moving just out of sight, so that when you try +to express it, it's hard to prove that it was there at all. Other times, +it wears the clothing of other parts of ourselves. When we think the beast +we see is anger, sadness, or loss, it is sometimes Loneliness wearing it's +guise sometimes to the point we do not realize the ruse until it has past, +or not at all. + +Then there are the times that in moves right into the center of ourselves, +with no announcement and bold disregard for what it treads upon. It sits, +stubborn and fearsome, so that any attempt to move it meets with failure, +provided you can even summon the courage to make the attempt. It seems to +sit perfectly still, but in fact it moves with terrifying speed almost +beyond our perception. When Hope or Happiness try to make their rounds, it +gobbles them up with the ferocity like that of the Jabberwock and +absolutely like Jormungand. While it moves as if it does not want to be +seen or caught in the act, it is in fact neither subtle nor ashamed of the +act itself, smacking its lips and picking its teeth in plain view. It is a +proud beast, and made so in its pride about what it does, and more +importantly, by what it is. + +For all its much-flaunted might and power in can have over me, I do not +fear it as I used to. Not because of what it is or what it represents, but +because it is not a common beast. It is rare within me, only coming to +feed once in the greatest of whiles. It exists more like a shark or lion +in our lives: unlikely we will encounter one, but not a mythical creature, +nor one to be trifled with. It has my respect because of what it is, and +what it can do. I have come to realize that respect is sometimes +misappointed given to things we are afraid of or less than, if only to +curb the fear of the hold it can have over us + +Regardless, it nonetheless exists, and be it fear or respect it, I am +painfully aware of its uncontrolled presence within myself and my life. I +do not wish to hunt it outright, as I am unwilling most days to consciously +face it. Yet, I must or at least begin to in some way. + +I see Loneliness in a possible future as if foretold in prophecy or in +vision. I have come to contemplate or consider the possibility that I may +come to a point in my life that I will be completely alone. Not that those +I know and care about will cease to exist in some way, but they will +continue on their way: making new friends and taking lovers so that they +themselves will be enabled and prepared to fight of their own Loneliness +when it comes. They will seek companionship be it lovers or +husbands/wives as if they were arms, and perhaps the best for such a +battle. + +I, as it is beginning to look, may not have availability of such arms at my +disposal. As I said, I can content with the pet I have made of Being +Alone, and enjoy my time with it considerably. As a result, I am not prone +to the situations that would make companionship a possibility. I do not +venture into the world often, and when I do, it is not with trepidation and +reluctance. I am not impersonal, but I am not quick to new company, nor I +am easy to making instant conversation from the spark of an introduction. +My existence does not propagate company, let alone companionship. + +This is not meant to be a declaration, nor is it to be cast in stone. +Claims and predictions are what we make, and life is what happens +regardless. Anything can happen, and it can happen within the hour, for +all intents and purposes. What this all adds up to being is preparation, +not prophecy. I will not associate myself with those that wail and lament, +"Oh woe as me; no one loves me. I might as well don my blackest garb, play +my most somber Pink Floyd, and cry into my wine that no one will live as +unloved as I!" Hardly. + +I face this prospect, so that should it come to pass, it's not some +horrible surprise. I'm sure the majority of the families in '62 found +little comfort pricing shelters as Russian ships unwilling sat paused off +of the Cuban coast, in what was perhaps the coldest October of them all. +We do not install smoke alarms to warn about a fire we will have, but as +protection against the horrible possibility of one. + +I think about friendships lapsed, a marriage failed, and relationships +lost. I think of the possibility of children that I will never have, and +will never be. I think of it all, and realize that indeed Loneliness wears +other guises - in this case, those of regret and loss. I realize more as I +write that perhaps, at times, it lurks less in woods than it does in the +camp. That perhaps, without knowing it, the battle is already upon me. + +It will not win, and I can say that with almost arrogant confidence, in +spite of the doom such claims can bring. Even if the future I call +unwelcome does come to pass, it will not be one wrought with pain, living +under the shadow of fear of Loneliness. While I may not be able to make +obedient beast of Loneliness as I did Being Alone, I will learn to coexist +with it. I will be able to walk with yards of it, without flinching or +being afraid of it lunging. Life is too singular and invaluable that it +cannot be squandered by the fear of it continuing. + +I write this to vindicate myself, and perhaps vindicate the reader. We are +all equally mortal, and both strong and vulnerable at the same time. We +often spend far to much time trying to overcome and defeat the parts of +ourselves that are so ingrained and integral to our character that we could +ever neither succeed in extinguishing, or live without. We try so hard to +remove fear and doubt instead of realizing how important they are, and how +they act as part of the survival mechanism that keeps us out of harm and +danger. Coexistence with the predators that live within is perhaps the +best tribute we can build to our own perceived character. While we can lay +to waste the bastard offspring like Hate and Insecurity, our own emotional +food chain is dependent on their parent feelings and emotions. We must +make peace with ourselves. Otherwise, it makes no more sense than trying +to smite the ground you stand upon. + + +- Capone + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0562.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0562.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..f270da0a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0562.txt @@ -0,0 +1,116 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + SoulDome + -------- + +i live in a room constructed by myself. it's not the tangible type of +room, nor the type that you "crash" in when you need a place to sleep or +hang out. my room crashes all on its own. it's soundproof and airtight, +and the only thing that leaves it externally conspicuous is surface +tension. that is to say, if you inflate a balloon under some dirt, the +dirt's going to shift a bit to make room for it. + +everything stays inside. nothing may escape until the pressure's gotten +too much and the balloon will pop. for some reason, i have a deathly +trepidation of the room exploding. not so much in and of itself, but... +but just what would happen. i'm sure it's something that i wouldn't want, +were i in a sane state of mind (is there such a thing?). it might be +self-destructive, or maybe just plain explosive. bloody or cacophonous. i +would say "hateful or just a bleeding of despair", but i've been noticing +more and more that the line separating those two is smudged into a pastel +blend. there's almost no difference at all. none except how the light +reflects off of them. anger is a fighter's despair, and desperation is a +vacuous anger. desperation is all the energy and anti-energy of hatred +with the fight removed. if anger is a serrated knife, then desperation is +a serrated handle. + +the room itself is kind of like a window. not like i, myself, am behind a +pane of glass, but as though something within me is. i suppose that, +should it be true that such things as souls exist, it is my soul +contained by this alienating cellophane. like there's just some...some +block between my body and something within it, and each needs the other +so it's just hurting both. like two lovers in cells a little past two +arms' reach apart. +in short, it always feels like something's missing. i don't know what +"it" is, nor "something", but..."it" needs that something, and that +something is not in "it". everything has this unmistakable and +disorientingly bewildering sense of lacking something. everything is a +broad term, eh? needs to be. "everything includes how i feel, what i +think, my ambitions, other peoples' ambitions, other people themselves +(both individually and collectively), ideals, beliefs, nature, the world, +the universe, the atoms that make it all up... it goes on. +sunsets hypnotize me. a beautiful landscape or scene captivates me, +especially if it has the smell of fresh, un-building-or-exhaust-perverted +air to it. i love the fall air smell and feeling right now. it makes me +want to run away from every person in the world, to my own spot in some +gorgeous woods, and just...expire there, slowly taking in the splendor of +my surroundings as i descend into a peaceful reverie of death. +needless to say; i won't. life's not quite that kind. + +never has it been easy for me to appreciate this fact much, but...i live +for the little things. i don't mean the little hugs or kisses kinds of +things, or the "good things come in small packages" banal bullshit. i +mean, nintendo. guitar. masturbation. email. anything that will kill the +time in the day with the least pain and do its best to keep my mind off +of the gnawing and caustic sense of utter sequestration from the rest of +the race that i feel like i have imposed on me. i think i've been living +my whole life on the subconscious tenet that i would just live for +whatever pleasure i could wring out of life until i can get no more, and +then just kill myself. is that not fucking PATHETIC? the rest of the +known world just sucks it up and moves on when they feel like something's +bothering them, but not me -- oh, no! i just shut right down and wait to +off myself. +i honestly would feel compelled to kick myself if i didn't feel like +that's all i HAVE been doing all these years... + +i don't know if i'll be another suicide statistic or not. i really don't. +i refuse to make my mind up about something like that until i really feel +compelled to decide. it's not an easy decision... "to be, or not to be?" +maybe it's just the constraint that bothers me. i read an article in +which the author said that he tried promiscuity to commit suicide; hoping +that he'd get AIDS. suddenly, after the 17th time or so, he realized with +horror that he could also be infecting his new partners if he'd actually +succeeded in the contraction. he stopped, and it turned out that he was +clean. now, that kind of thing makes no sense to me. i mean, it does and +i've considered it, but i don't like the idea of that kind of time limit. +i also remember a FUCK article about how much the author hated +suicidalism and depressive people talking about killing themselves with +nonchalance or even enthusiasm. well, although i don't think i'm quite +laughing this off anyway, i'm making no promises that i'm going to do it +any more than not. is that a good sign? i can't tell anymore. + +"can't tell." i can't tell anything anymore. can anyone tell me; are +there REALLY people who enjoy living? like, people who look FORWARD to +the thought of living; to the future? or is it all faked and a sham, and +i'm a black sheep in a black flock, after all? + +i don't know. thanks for listening, my room got a little too hot and the +air just a bit too thin. i think i'll return to it now; i've got a fine +sunday to kill from inside it. perhaps some day i'll air the place out; i +just haven't figured out how. in the meantime, you know where you can't +find me. + +-agrajag +http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Club/1610/Dep.html + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0563.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0563.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b861a001 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0563.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + can it feel this wrong? + ----------------------- + +there are some fundamental problems with me, and i am fully aware +of that as fact. if anyone is qualified to say that about another person, +self is always it. is my new obsession part of that problem? i'd love +to know. as i reconsider my intro, i think i am just different. that +we all find beauty in different places, and that i am just looking +in a new place. + +recently i have found myself liking a new kind of art. well, to qualify +i guess i should say that it is likely only i consider it art. +the turning point that made me realize this came the other day while +out of town. i sat there looking at someone enthralled by the anguish +on her face. it made me think back to the CD cover for _Heavenly Voices_ +i recently purchased. the cover is adorned with a woman's face in +what appears to be guilt ridden pain. + +shortly after seeing her face i realized that the expression she had +was cause of my joy. all this time, i had taken pleasure in other's pain, +or more directly, the reflection they had taken of their own pain. +even more specifically, a beautiful female face wearing the look of +guilt or sorrow. + +here is an excerpt from a sort of journal i keep, detailing my thoughts +immediately after the encounter: + + "drizzling rain, steady bumps. one nice thing to an otherwise + depressing day. Atlanta transit the one hour stage for today. + Returning to the airport she sat across from me. Friendly smile + before reading to pass the time. Exchanged time of day for + brief eye contact. + + i sat there contemplating my day occasionally glancing over. her + face etched out emotional yin yang and drew me in. corners of her + mouth turned up, as if she was truly happy. eyes and brow a + contradiction to that happiness. the anguish etched in her face + had sat with her for a long time. it was as if i could feel her + pain and suddenly understand the hurt. one second and all i could + read was guilt on her brow. what had she done that weighed so + heavily? + + the buzzer sounded and the train stopped. the doors parted as she + stood up. with a gentle smile she bid me good day. her happy + facade had returned and she left me there to ponder her guilt + for her." + +I think back to her sitting there, staring down at the floor thinking +about whatever consumed her. I wanted to go over and just touch her +face. To feel the pain etched in it. Run my finger along the contours +of her face. + +The thought of guilt, sin, confession, attrition, and other raw emotions +fascinates me. I find parts of them beautiful to say the least. It is +difficult for me to describe the relationship between the pain and the +inherent beauty I see in it. + +discussion on said topic the other day lead to an interesting comment +by a new friend. she said "pain is one of the most base emotions.. +and a certain naivete is put forth by a genuine display of pain." +it didn't hit me until over a week later that what she said is dead on. + +think about it. society says not to show pain or any emotion at all. +showing something so 'bad' and 'primitive' is a sign of weakness. +to actually show emotion brands you with the label of 'pansy' or +some other inadequate insult. to show such emotion is more often than +not done under the guise of art, or by young people. young people +who are naive about what light they will be held in after doing +so. + +as well know, what society deems acceptable is hardly an appropriate +guideline these days. with such a minority leading the way assigning +values to social and philosophical elements, its easy to get tied +up in what they decree. what better way to shirk free thought and +give up control or say in your life. but we have gone down this rant +before, and the issue at hand is so much more elegant. the face of +pain... + +as i sit here reviewing what i wrote, i can't help but to think +how poor a job i have done in describing what i originally set out +to. how do you adequately describe something you find so beautiful? +give them something as an example? will that one example really make +them understand how it affects you? of course not. perhaps telling +them what extreme you would go through to convey the point? why bother. +all i know is that i sit here at night sometimes, staring at the faces +of women in pain. when i do, things seem so clear and calm. + +i look back to my trip to atlanta, and i can picture her face perfectly. +no details of her, the train, or my feelings are lost and i have this +feeling they will stay with me. we all feel pain at times. unfortunately, +we have been told that pain is unconditionally bad, when more often +than you might expect, it is good. if nothing else, it certainly allows +us to enjoy pleasure all the more. + + +mea culpa + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0564.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0564.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..235f70de --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0564.txt @@ -0,0 +1,97 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Stirring my anxiousness + ----------------------- +---I--- + +Fuck, I'm feeling weird right now. It's not my nerves, it's anxiousness; I'm +as anxious as hell right now. + +This is just great, i feel like writing but at the same time the words are +being elusive. There are far too many thoughts, and they are passing by way to +fast for me to write them down, or even identify or know what the hell they +are about, for that matter. Must be I'm going insane and i haven't noticed +yet.. and if i did go insane, would i know it? as far as i know i might be +a nutcase right now. + +I'm in need of hate right now. I wish i knew why, i just feel like i +need to feel hated by someone out there. I wanna annoy the living hell out +of whomever, just for kicks. Or maybe it's just that i want somebody to +feel something, _anything_ at all towards me.. and hate looks like a very +good option at the time; it's like wishing someone would come up and +beat the shit out of me for no reason. + +----II---- + +[Just found this file sitting on the HD, and i thought id try to finish it +right now. That's the reason of the division. Can't really remember when i +wrote that first part, but it must've been more than a month ago. In any +case...] + +From time to time i get that strange feeling.. something snaps on my head +and the next thing i want is to feel hate towards me, it doesn't matter +who you are, it's some sort of wild drive that prompts me to offend you, +insult you, mock you, make the most acidic/sarcastic comments i can come +up with in whatever situation i am, all of that backed up by a sense of +'whatthefuck' so i basically feel free to say whatever i please. + +Anxiousness. That was what i was ranting about at the beginning of this +file. The fun part of it is that it can be dealt with by taking a simple +pill, like a Xanax or whatnot. But i'd rather not, it's not that it won't +make me feel better because i know it will, the thing is i want to deal +with it myself, of course there are times when it feels unbearable and i +do take one, but i'm afraid of creating an addiction. I mean, come on. This +thing _will_ make me feel better and therein lies part of the problem, +i know myself well enough to know i could get hooked on it. +Anyone out there knows what the hell dysthimia (sp?) is? last year (i +think) some neurologist said i had that. According to him it was having +one's anxiousness level above normal, guess i should go to the local +library and find more about it.. *shrug*. + +Being anxious can make you act in some really funny ways, well, i make fun +of it, as i do with almost everything else, because it's me the one fucked +up. + +Describing how i get wouldn't help my cause that much, probably because +not everyone reacts the same as me, so while there were moments when i +would go out and feel completely and absolutely out of place, would feel +like throwing up or fainting, that would be just me. We're not all the +same (thankfully). + +I'm not complaining though. I have it easier when compared with depressed +people, and i'm not dissing them cause i've been there, too. It's just that +sometimes people don't know how shitty it gets when you're anxious. And +i'm not even gonna touch the topic of panic attacks, although i've never +had one, i think i have an idea of how bad it can get cause of my +anxiousness. That and i've read the symptoms of such an attack (a panic +one) and as i've read them i'd go 'check... check... nope... check... +nope'. + +Maybe my anxiousness is the one making me wanting to give and feel +hate from time to time, or maybe it's the real me that wants to come +out from time to time. But i'd rather not think about it right now. +I'm getting butterflies in my stomach.... + +.shyguy + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0565.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0565.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..23bf0664 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0565.txt @@ -0,0 +1,122 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Just Words + ---------- + +Communicating with others is key to being able to succeed in this plane +that we currently reside in, there are many ways in which we +communicate with each other. Talking either through words written or +spoken, musical or artistic expression, motions or actions, and +probably some other ways, as well. + +Have you ever head someone say (usually in reference to either a +degrading comment, criticism, or on-line conversations) "It's just +words. Words can't hurt you.". How about the expression: "Actions +speak louder then words."? + +It is probably safe to say that we have all heard the above quotes, at +least a few times if not several hundred times. Either from parents, +elders, peers, or younger people. + +People are generally born with five senses. These senses allow us to +evaluate our surroundings and lead themselves to us being able to +communicate. Hearing, which allows us to hear those things around us +either words, music, animals, etc., Taste which is primarily on our +tongue which is essential for talking. Sight, allowing us to see +everything about us. Touch lending itself to us being able to feel +things against our bodies, which ties into motions and actions. Smell +which enables us to be able to gather tiny fragments of those things +about us. + +Notice that talking or speech, the ability to partake in conversation +using our voices, is not one of these senses. Taste is a part of it +just because they are linked are through the tongue. + +Is speaking essential to living? It is essential in the idea that one +needs to be able to communicate with other living life forms. However, +there are other ways to do that, such as signing (sign language) or now +with how advanced the whole 'information highway' has become, one can +communicate greatly just through typing. (Sense needed: Touch) + +There are people (and other mammals) that are born without all of the +senses. Sometimes through age, surgery, or another alternative method +that sense comes to light, and becomes an ability. Other times the +mammal learns to deal with not having it and live their life +accordingly. + +Sometimes people abuse their senses, which very rarely forces them to +lose them or at least have them lessen. Such as smokers (or people +that use a LOT of salt) will lessen their sense of taste and/or of +smell. Just from the biological process the body goes through. (The +salt-alcoholics do not alter their sense of smell, just the smokers.) +Though there are other ways of abusing the senses. This is not about +the abuses of senses and those effects that arise on the body. If you +want that, go look them up in a biology book. What this is about +though is "just words". + +All of us that are reading this file, are only reading "just words", +just like we always have whenever we have read anything else. Other +files, books, magazines, etc. Words may not hold a lot of meaning at +times, however they should. Because when words do not hold a lot of +meaning, what is the point of speaking/writing/reading them? There is +not one. What is the alternative then? Not speaking words, when they +are empty, holding no meaning. Not writing when there is nothing to +say. + +"Just talking is pointless." It is only pointless when there is +nothing worth anything being said. Otherwise it's a way of learning. +Learning either a person, place, or thing. A way to escape or enjoy, +through reading, gaining a new viewpoint, or entertainment. Which +could range from books and articles to descriptions and movies. The +only movies that do not have words spoken are silent films, and even +those have some words that pop up. Words are essential to +communication in some way. + +Even when two people are not talking, possibly they are sharing an +intimate moment, their thought processes are moving in words, because +words and visions are how we were taught and made to think. People +give actions, things, people, places, and everything else a word or a +name to go by. That makes them, them. "A rose by any other name, +smells just as sweet." The alteration to names though is not what I +am wanting to convey to you. + +"I find no reason to talk." That is all fine and dandy, though how are +you going to get to know anyone or anything more if you do not talk +with them in some way, shape, or form? + +Words may just be words, but we as individuals and as a collective +place importance upon them - or should. The ability to be able to +use words correctly, accurately and to get our points and views across +and the ability to comprehend others' are key to being able to make +a successful life. + +If it was not for any words, where would you be? + +Next time you go to say, type, or read something - is it really only: +"Just Words"? + + +- Kamira +November 10th, 1998 +kamira@attrition.org + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0566.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0566.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..943c566a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0566.txt @@ -0,0 +1,86 @@ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Silent Rant + --------------- + (a Tangent to Temporary Autonomous Zone) + + There are three basic responses to a text like Temporary Autonomous Zone : + +1) change yourself, +2) change your environment, or +3) do nothing and go mad. + + This is not one of them. This is the tangent of the silent rant, and it +is a selfish rant. The silent rant walks the halls each day and borrows +my resources (processor time?) when I'm not looking, and it has decided +that the time is right to speak its silent mind. + + Hello, I am the silent rant, but you can call me. Not like you can talk +to me anyway, you materialistic fiends! The data is forthcoming. + + Each of us is an individual. Each of you roams the halls of the modern +gulag daily like myself, but there is something that separates you from +everyone else. What is it then? It is a gleam in your eyes that says +(despite your fervent attempts to hide it), "I am not defined by my actions +or the things associated with me, but by my own mind." The answer to that +(you didn't know it was a question, did you?) is "CHAOS!" + + CHAOS never died; it has just been sitting dormant for a long time, +waiting for someone like me to pick it up and throw it at the world like a +cream pie. The Temporary Autonomous Zone (TAZ) is a system of anarchy like +no other, for it makes no attempt at permanence. It is the now, and it is +freedom, and whatever else you want to call it (I'm as tired of profundity +and symbolism as the next rant). You are each a TAZ, an island in the +framework of our dys-functional society. The advantage of the impermanent +nature of the TAZ is that it is difficult to spot - difficult, but not +impossible! You see, the TAZ is not one location, but a network of +possible locations. Much like quantum theory, in fact. + + The data is in place - what can you do with it? First of all, you could +TALK to each other and stop PRETENDING that you're the only intellect in +this corner of the universe. We come to school to LEARN, do we not? So +why are most of us not progressing beyond a spoon-fed diet of useless +data? There's no CHALLENGE, of course - I challenge you to seek them out, +but that will be the only challenge that will come to you if you do not +seek more out. Standardized tests and data re-interpretations stand for +NOTHING. They are as empty as the ideas you cling to in your futile +attempts at explaining the world. FACE IT, THE WORLD CAN'T BE EXPLAINED. +Some of you are so afraid of showing your true selves that you will never +experience the joy of actually KNOWING other people. YOU WILL MAKE +MISTAKES, and YOU WILL BE HURT. So what? What doesn't kill you makes you +stronger! + + What can I do about it? Nothing outside of myself. I can't tell you +what to do, and I wouldn't want to. You are all much too unique to insult +like that. I ask that you not give up on the world and the existence of +others like yourself, and at least attempt the challenge of true +communication as I have. Who knows, I might even respect you! + +Send comments/counter-rants/condemnations/propaganda/all the rest of life's +poetry in motion/etc. to : + + +nowhere@webzone.net +-The Gentleman Who Fell + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0567.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0567.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..43ed863e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0567.txt @@ -0,0 +1,115 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + The Best Years of Our Lives + --------------------------- + +One of my favorite writers, Henry Rollins, said, "How memories lie to us. +How time coats the ordinary with gold. How it breaks the heart to go back +and attempt to relive them. How crushed we are when we discover the gold +was merely gold plating thinly coated over lead, chalk, and peeling paint." +I'd like to be able to look back at my high school years and see them as +"the best years of my life" but I can't because they weren't. And no +amount of time will change my mind. + +A glance over the Plantation High School "Reflections 88" yearbook has me +as a senior with the quote (or paraphrase) "Life moves pretty fast, if you +don't look around once in awhile you might miss it." I got it from the +ending of "Ferris Bueller's Day Off"--one of my favorite movies at the time. + +It has been ten years and some months since I graduated from high school. +I spent five years attending college and the better part of the other five +working. Ten years goes by and what have I got to show for it? Well, not +much beyond some gray hair, a bit of money and a few material possessions. +This while many others in my class have surly gone on to get married, buy a +house, have kids and pursue a career--the "American Dream." I often wonder +what happened to all that I could have become? + +I couldn't imagine attending my high school reunion. I was one of the +outcasts. Sure I knew a fair number of people but only a couple could be +considered friends. "So what have you been doing these last ten years +Danny?" Shit! I wish I could point to a wife, kids, home, and/or a +hopeful career like most of the class probably could. + +I look at those faces in my yearbook staring back at me and it makes me +wonder what became of my classmates of '88? Retail, fast food, law, +medicine, engineering, home maker? I can't imagine. Maybe it is best that +I don't know the great and not so great things the others have accomplished. + +It's easy to look back and say "I should have done this or I should have +done that" but at the time it really wasn't possible. You knew what the +rules were and even living in your own world you still had to return to +this education world six to eight hours a day five days a week. +Embarrassment was something to avoid. For me it high school was more like +prison--out of sight, out of mind. Lay low, stay out of trouble, put in +your time, and get out alive. + +No "great" memories stand out about my high school years. Or maybe a few +do but have been suppressed/forgotten. I'm past those days but I haven't +forgotten about the pain and isolation. + +I played in the marching band for two years--cymbals and bass drum. I +learned to endure pain during my sentence. Carrying that drum around for +what seemed like days took its toll on my back. As punishment they made us +keep standing with the instrument. The band was a huge click in itself. I +was in the "drum line" but I was also in my own world. It took me two +years to realize I didn't fit in but band did teach me discipline and to +endure pain--two very important facets of life. + +My freshman year I only met a couple friends. Sometimes I ate lunch with +them but many times I ate alone outside on a bench next to the cafeteria. +Most of my sophomore year I ate lunch alone on my bench. Lunch alone was +something I dreaded. People walking by, seeing you sitting, eating alone +wasn't easy to deal with. My junior and senior years I ended up riding my +bike to school with a couple pals until one of them got a car. +Unfortunately, instead of riding along with my "pals" in the car I was left +riding my bike alone. I was back to being one of the few seniors who rode +their bikes to school. Anyway, I still couldn't take lunch alone outside +the cafeteria in front of "them" so I use to go home every day for lunch +during my junior and senior year. In fact, I probably visited the inside +of the cafeteria a half dozen times during lunch hour in the four I +attended high school. + +Life was tough. Not having many friends made it that much tougher to deal +with. If anyone admired, liked or felt they could relate to me during +these times they sure didn't show it. + +I graduated in the top 5% of the class. I even got to wear a special medal +during graduation and attend a special academic ceremony dinner. It wasn't +that I was smart--I barely broke a thousand on the SAT--but rather I worked +hard. I did my homework. + +So, I ask myself, now some ten years later where has my life gotten me? +All this studying and education? I would like to say I've achieved great +things and I've made something of myself. But at this point in time I can +not. My map on the road of life still remains unclear yet I continue to +drive hoping the road takes me somewhere worth while. + +Solitude is my hard one ally, + +Pallbearer + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0568.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0568.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..80c8733a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0568.txt @@ -0,0 +1,341 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + his plan, part i + ---------------- + + one + +"good morning mr. johnson." + +"morning mike. is he in there?" + +"yes sir, just catching up on some work." + +"mind if i see him?" + +"not at all sir, go in." + +i opened up the door and walked in to the oval room. one thing i miss +most in the world today is a flare for artistic architecture. most +things in this day and age are built for efficiency. this room appeared +more pleasing to my eyes than what i was used to seeing around here. the +man behind the desk startled as i walked in. + +"andrew, this is unexpected. make it quick i have a flight to catch." he +was looking over some papers and drinking from his favorite coffee mug. + +"john, i need to talk to you for a minute." he knew by the sound in my +voice that whatever i had to say was serious. + +"of course." he took his eyes off the document, leaned back in his chair +and looked directly into my eyes. i like this one more than most. i just +hope he would listen more than the rest of them do. "what is it andrew, +something bothering you?" + +"i need for you to stay here, do not go on this trip." i stared directly +into his eyes. + +"what is it, is something wrong?" it was good that he was showing some +concern. + +"no, nothing like that. i just have a bad feeling about this trip. i +really think it would be best if you stay here." + +"come on, don't be so paranoid. what could happen to me? the people love +me, nothing bad will happen. just put that thought into the back of your +mind and don't worry about it." he had a certain conviction in his voice. +hell, i knew what was going on and i was almost fooled into forgetting the +whole mess. + +"this isn't just another one of my paranoid hunches. i really feel like +your life is in danger this time. i really need for you to stay here." i +was trying to mimic his style of conviction. after all this time it is +still hard for me to get through to these people, though it was so much +more easy in the past. we were allowed some leniency with our +persuasion techniques. + +"who would want to kill me?" + +"you need to ask yourself that question. there are people all around just +waiting for the opportunity." he slammed his coffee onto his desk and +stood up. + +"look andrew, i cannot run from anyone." he began to walk towards me, +"if the people of this country think that i am too scared to leave my +house than my career is over. do you understand that? i have a job to +do and i can not let the threat of communists get to me. when i chose +this job i knew it came with certain risks and i am willing to deal with +them head on." he was born a true leader. he didn't always let it show, +but it is always there. + +"but--" + +"--nothing. now this conversation is over. i do appreciate your concern +for my well being, but i will be all right. just do me the favor of not +telling my wife about this," he placed his hand on my shoulder, "you know +how upset she will get." + +"yes sir." + +"and don't call me sir, we're friends andrew." his strong forceful voice +turned into a soft pillow. + +"yes, of course john. look, just be careful." i patted him on the back and +began walking towards the door. + +"will do... and besides," he yelled to me just as i reached for the door. +"i have to go, someone is expecting me there." he smiled and gave me a +wink, "if you know what i mean." i found him truly intriguing as i laughed +on the inside. it is too bad i couldn't just make him stay. freewill is a +bitch. + +"well, good day." and with that i left the room, and the body suit. + + two + +"there you are!" she yelled out on the street. + +"hello there beautiful. is everything ready?" he said in a demonic +monotone voice. + +"they sure are, better than i had planned." she giggled like a schoolgirl. + +"so oswald is going to do it?" a smile crept up on his face. + +"he would kill the pope for me." + +"now that's not a bad idea." + +"don't even think about it. besides, we have bigger plans now." she began +straightening his shirt. "what's wrong, you look distracted?" + +"do you see that man over there?" he looked across the street at a man +sitting at a bus stop. + +"yeah, what about him?" + +"he has been sitting there for the last hour." + +"who cares, maybe he's lonely." + +"i don't know, there is something strange about him. like i know him. +from somewhere." + +"you worry to much, don't think about it. let's concentrate on our next +great achievement for mankind." + +"actually, forget about that now." + +"what do you mean?" a look a surprise came over her. "we have been planning +on this for fifty years. do you realize how much grooming i put into this?" + +"i know, but something bigger just came up." they began walking. + +"something bigger? what could be bigger that i haven't heard about?" +doubt grew like steams from her voice. + +"the almighty just called for a secret meeting with michael and gabriel." + +"secret?" her doubt turned to interest. + +"yes, and it may turn out to be the perfect opportunity to do what we have +always wanted to. to get the one thing he treasures more than these +worthless humans." + +"you don't mean," her eyes became an ocean of anticipation as a look of +disbelief and excitement rushed over her face, "his plan?" she stopped +dead in her tracks. + +"yes." he began laughing a deep mechanical thunder. "let's go, we have work +to do. the end is near." + + three + +"hello gabriel." + +"it's been a long time michael. it's good to be back here." he sniffed the +air around him with a deep passion as his senses made love to the +environment. "i feel so stuffy spending time there with all those humans." + +"we all know the feeling." he had a face with the look of deep mourning. + +"sometimes i wonder why we bother." + +"we don't question his word." he became a weapon of faith. + +"i wasn't questioning his word. i am just wondering what it is all about. +all of this must have some purpose." + +"does it? isn't that how lucifer got started?" concern grew in michael as +he stared at his friend. + +"don't you worry about me. my faith is as strong as it has ever been. i am +just now, after all this time, beginning to understand what those humans +have." he carried such a sad disposition around himself. + +"what's that?" + +"knowledge, freedom, the ability to see past all of this. they have all of +these attributes and all they can do is fight amongst themselves. so many +hypocrites, so many non-believers, so many people who have just stopped +looking up and wondering what is really going on. they are starting to +give up on him. it is not that they don't want to believe, it is that they +can't. it makes me so sad to watch them wither away while i sit here +and wish that i could have had it so good." + +"you will." + +"what do you mean?" shock and hope raced through his body as he stared +hard into michael's face. + +"he wants to see you. i am here to bring you to him." + +"why?" humility ran through his veins. + +"gabriel, he wants to speak with you." a look of such longing passion filled +gabriel's being. + +"it has been so long. i forget what it is like to be in his light." if he +could cry, he would have birthed a new river upon the very ground he stood. + +"come, we away to naon." + + four + +they stood at the front doors of naon. michael stood proud, with a look +of void emotion across his face. gabriel stood in humility, he very being +kneeling as he stood. + +"holy holy holy is the lord of hosts." the seraphim angels horned +with their voices as michael and gabriel approached. they entered the throne +room and kneeled with all the humility of existence before him. + +they began speaking at the same time. "woe is me! for i am unworthy. +i am an angel of unclean senses, and i dwell in the place of people with +unclean souls." they kept their heads faced towards the ground, and their +eyes clenched shut as he began to speak. + +"yes my lord." gabriel spoke as michael remained silent. + +"my lord, i do not understand." + +"my lord, lilith?" + +"yes my lord, i understand." + +"human my lord?" + +"yes my lord." + +"my lord, i will follow your instruction as humbly as i can. i will not +fail you." michael and gabriel stood up and began walking in reverse +while keeping their eyes closed and their heads fixed to the marble floor. + +"holy holy holy is the lord of hosts." the doors closed as michael and +gabriel humbly departed. as they walked their separate ways they +both stopped for a moment and turned towards each other. + +"i'll see you in 26 years gabriel." michael somehow kept that void +expression on his face. + +"if i could only feel so happy. for at last, the final stages are upon us." +gabriel walked towards the gates of heaven with a newfound proud sensibility +about him. + + five + +"ashes to ashes, dust to dust." little gabriel watched as the two coffins +laid on the ground with an utter lifeless void. the only thing he could think +is why any god would kill his parents while he was at such a young age. he +only felt anger for the world as he listened to the sadness of the other +people around him. he wondered how they could cry at a time like this, how +they could feel anything other than hate. + + +"i understand you'll be taking care of gabriel." the priest spoke with his +uncle and aunt as gabriel walked deep into the cemetery. + +"i am sorry about this gabe." a voice spoke from beyond a tombstone. + +"loui!" gabriel's voice lightened with joy. + +"how are you feeling gabe?" he spoke with a deeply concerned voice. + +"i don't know." + +"you're mad aren't you?" + +"i guess so. i just don't understand." his head turned towards the ground +as he kicked the tombstone loui was now sitting on. + +"you don't understand why any god would take your parents from you?" + +"yeah, i guess so." + +"listen to me now gabe. what i need to tell you is very important." little +gabriel looked up into his eyes. "poor gabriel, so much is revolving +around you. you have the entire weight of the universe sitting on your +shoulders and you don't even realize it yet." he let the silence of the +wind speak for him. "one day i will need to call upon you. i hope that i +can count on you during this time." + +"i'll do anything for you, loui. you're the only one who cares about me." +gabriel grabbed on to his legs and began hugging the life out of them. + +"now now gabe. don't get too attached, i need to leave soon. i just wanted +to say goodbye. i won't need to call on you until much later in your life, +a long time from now." + +"why do you have to go? you're my only friend, i don't want you to leave." +he began to let go of his first tears of the day. + +"i can't explain to you why i have to leave, this is something you will +only understand with time." he looked at gabriel's sad face. "i will always +be with you though." + +"what do you mean?" he sniffled as he spoke. + +"do you see that up there?" + +"the moon?" the sniffles began to fade as his confusion set it. + +"yes, the moon. i want you to know that i will always be watching over +you from there. whenever you need someone to talk to, or something to make you +feel better, just look up and think about me." he smiled as he stood up. + +"thanks loui, i'll never forget you." he hugged him one last time. + +"i know gabe, i know." with those last words they stood back from each +other and loui vanished before his eyes. + +"there you are gabriel. are you ready to leave?" gabriel looked at his +uncle and the saw the future that awaited him. + +"yeah, i'm ready to go." he looked up at the moon smiled, wiping the +tears off his face. + + the end . rage-303 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0569.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0569.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..03522a57 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0569.txt @@ -0,0 +1,133 @@ + + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Da Nigga + -------- + + +Yep, that's right, Nigger: n, - an ignorant person. +Sorry to burst your little bubbles, but nigger does not (!=) equal black +person. I was out today with a few "friends" today and we got into +a conversation about the existence of god (I am an atheist). They all were +attempting to convince me that god exists otherwise we wouldn't. So +I posed a very simple question, this "god" they speak of is supposedly +Omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient, can he/she/it make a rock that +he/she/it can not lift? Now take a moment and think about what this +really means. + +If you answered no, then there is something that god cannot do, namely +make a rock that god can not lift.. On the other hand if you answered yes +then the almighty in fact is not almighty, for there is something +he/she/it can not lift. Now when presented with these paradox, they +proceed to convince me that they are Jewish, when posed with the question +what is it that makes you Jewish ? "I was barmitzvahed (a.k.a. went through +a ritual in which I understood none of the speech I was forced to read), +I was circumcised and besides my parents are Jewish." As the words sprang +from his mouth, I felt a mixture of amusement and nausea. I let him +attempt to make a point as he sat there eating bacon........yes bacon +(for those of you that don't know eating pork, in anyway shape or form is +FORRBIDDEN in the religion) when I pointed this out, the response I +received was "I don't have to follow the rules, believe in the +principles of the religion, or read the bible to be Jewish, my ancestors +were Jewish that is enough". Now last time I checked (Webster's +dictionary) religion: n, - man's expression of his acknowledgements to +the divine, a system if BELIEFS and PRACTICES relating to the sacred and +uniting it adherents in a community. Now what really bothered me about +this entire thing was that these people claimed to be something, or +rather part of something, because they were told "you are Jewish". + +Not once did they bother to question, what it meant to be a Jew. They +just excepted it as a fact of life. What really scares me is that these +people are future members/leaders of our society. They are the same +people that take information from textbooks and people who supposedly +know the "facts", when in fact all they are paid to do is recite their +lines. (This is not to meant to be offensive to those [unfortunately the +number is extremely small] of teachers who go beyond their job +qualifications, and force you to question what you are learning and not +merely except it as a fact) How can we as a people exist when no one +bothers to question authority , or to seek there own truths. The only +argument that these niggers could provide was, well, that's what I +believe, I asked what the beliefs were based on and to that question +all I got was blank stares, and a "you over exaggerate matters"." I will +be the first to admit that I do not take anything lightly, I am guilty +of curiosity, I am also guilty of thinking and not letting myself be brain +washed by people that claim to know all of the facts. Not only do you +have to question the people, but also question the "facts" +themselves. Just when I thought the level of stupidity can not possibly +get any higher.....it did. + +I mentioned a friend of mine that happens to be black and well educated. +Here came the racial jokes, then one of these, oh so very bright, people +said something about his mother being a welfare drug addict (she is +black, I mean what else did they have to know, none of them even knew the +person I was speaking of) and the ironic thing is the woman happens to be +a drug counselor. + +To prove my thesis correct, that they are nothing but a bunch of niggers, +they decided it would be extremely funny to make jokes about "niggers, +spics, dinks, etc". Basically by putting down any ethnic group makes them +feel superior. The thing that really irked me, the final straw was while +making these comments, a few black people happen to walk by (we were +sitting at a cafe outside) and all of the sudden silence fell upon them. +The way I look at it, if you are going to talk shit, you should at least +have the balls to do it to someone's face, I was quick to jump and point +out how quiet the table suddenly became. Of course, at that point, I +received the following explanation, "As if I would say that to a nigger, +I know how dangerous those people are I watch the news" I didn't know if +I wanted to laugh or cry at this point. The news, TV, more propaganda +taking control of the very few free thinking brain cells I hoped they had +left. When I posed the question of how many "spics, niggers, dinks, etc." +these people had actually known on a personal level, the answer was just +as I expected "NONE". More speculations based on something they had heard +somewhere or other. The thing that bothers me the most out of this +entire scenario is that, this people sit around making fun of anyone who +is not part of "their people." Just a few generations back six million of +"their" people where brutally killed for no reason, no reason but +prejudice, and an army of people that followed blindly never questioning +the logic behind the executions. +How can you sit there, and take about how all niggers/spics/dinks should +be killed to make this world safer, when your own relatives died at the +hands of blind hatred, millions of lives lost based on nothing more then +simple ignorance/intolerance. Then of course came the logic, if we still +had slaves these niggers would be in control. When I mentioned the fact +that Jews where once enslaved by Egyptians and asked their opinion, I +found that of the four people sitting there (inc. myself) I was the only +one that even knew this historical fact. You call yourself a Jew, and you +don't even know your "own" history. + +This entire thing just frustrated me to the point where I began to +realize that these people are beyond help. You can not make a blind man +see unless he agrees to try to understand Braille. The part that scares +me is that when 1984 becomes a reality, we will have no one capable of +standing up and opposing Big Brother. They are ready to became mindless +robots, products of this society that tells you what to think, when to +think, and how to think it. Those of us guilty of thought crime will be +the first ones that mysteriously disappear, but I'd rather fight and die in +a hopeless battle, then submit to the lifestyle of a nigger. + + +bluerose @-`,--- + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0570.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0570.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9e3c802e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0570.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ + + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Normality + --------- + +One of the times that I was in the hospital my mother brought me some +stationary she had bought for me. It was blue, and 5 x 8 in. Across the top +of it, it said: "I know this may sound weird but all I want is a normal life." +For several years after that, I had that saying pinned up on the wall above my +bed. And for even more years, I had really thought that is what I had wanted. + +A normal life, with normal problems. Where my biggest problem is what color +of lipstick am I going to wear with the nail polish I am wearing? And, the +hardest night is when I have to call up a guy and ask him on a date. Normal +guys, that don't treat me like shit, and for me not to have a complex when it +comes to eating and what I look like. You know what? That may be what seems +to be the biggest problems 'normal' people have, but they go deeper then that. + +Normality is something that is the average of how people in a selected +society act, have, etc. In this day and age, with all the problems that have +filled the cities and countryside alike, I must admit I am thankful I do not +have a normal life! + +I like not having to always act my own age, and wear a business suit. I like +being able to hang out with people younger and older then me, and be perfectly +comfortable. I like not having a normal life. + +My life is never the same day twice, and there's always things that either I +do to ensure that or things that just happen to ensure that. And, that is +what has become 'normal' for me. It is normal for me to not know when I am +going to be going out of town, and not knowing when I am going to be back, I +like that. It is normal for me to have parties and have people show up that +I had only 'heard' or 'seen' around, and have a blast - I like that. It is +normal for me to face confrontations head-on and not budge when it comes to +something I don't like or agree with - I like that. + +"I just want a normal life." + +"Normal lives are overrated." + +I'm not saying that you shouldn't go after your dreams. If you want to pull +away from whatever you're involved in now, and pursue an art career, and not +deal with guys that are involved in whatever most guys are involved in - +then go for it! If you want to become a singer in a band or an opera, then +go for it! If you want to make some sort of change in your life, which you +think is really going to make you happier then YOU SHOULD! But, you do not +need to refer to it as something normal if it's not. Refer to whatever it is, +as it is ... a dream, hope, what you want, a change, or maybe it is a normal +life. + +Normality is something that we have control over, in some regard. Because, it +is based on what is the most common ... and if you ask me, that has changed +dramatically! + +Just don't spend years of your life, wishing for something that you would end +up hating. Go for it and find out. + + +-Kamira +December 30th, 1997 + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0571.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0571.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ed334ec2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0571.txt @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + sdkgjdsgjsd + ----------- + +I sit here and read his words. Guess at his emotions. At the end, the +disclaimer. He knew what I was thinking. fucking hypocrite. And he knows +I am. I'm as bad as they are. People sit there and say "I've known her +for years." You can sit there and make your guesses. your assumptions. +your presumptions. You'll never be right. even if you are, who says I +cant make you wrong in thirty seconds flat? I sit here, the prodigal +child with a fucked up twist. I'm my father's worst nightmare, my +mother's pride and joy. Oh the irony. Showers down like a surprise +thunderstorm during a heat wave. Replenishing for the first five +minutes, a pain in the ass after that. Until it ends. Until I end. +Suicide? Not a chance in hell. Irony? shaken, not stirred. + +I have to sit and laugh. They think they know me. I'm a tease, and a +slut at the same time. Oh the talent I must possess. I'm frigid also. +again, more talent. Their words hurt, the pain they inflict all too +familiar to me. How did I get this way? pure, unadulterated luck? Figures. +Pain's familiar. Give me truckloads of pain and I can take it. Give me +an ounce of unselfishness and pure caring and I falter. The trick is +finding that ounce, and I'm still standing. People try to push my +buttons every day. Harsh words, tragedies galore and the music is what +makes me weep. The pure beauty of it, it affects me more than the +sunrise I've never seen, the senseless death of someone close, behind it +all, the music. + + =-= + +I've never thought of myself as normal. I tried to be. I was the +cheerleader that everyone 'knew' but no one had a fucking clue who i +*was*. I tried to become what they already thought I was. I belonged to +my high school's 'fucked up' club. I was its founder, president, and +publisher of its semi-annual magazine. Creative Impulse. If they only +knew what that truly meant. my little rebellion lives on in others. I +am not weird on the outside. I don't have any '666' tattoos across my +forehead or 19 body piercings, or anything that our beloved 'society' +would dream weird. I'm weird on the inside. and I don't mind a bit. I'm +the kind of person that prefers quiet company and a good book, to a +group of acquaintances/friends, hot chocolate to coffee, going into a +trendy juice bar and listening to them talk, its like a foreign language +to me. I'm easy to please. I like chocolate. The feel of rain on my +face, the smell of it in the air. I like thunder, lightning. Curling up +to sleep, when its warm in the bed, and cold outside. Waking up at odd +hours, and seeing him sleeping next to me. The warmth of firelight, and +how it makes everyone seem just a bit more beautiful. Music floating +through the air, invading me, seemingly from nowhere. yet it seems to +have all the answers to the questions overwhelming me. + +I've got quite a few of me. A few dozen sides, that makes it amusing +when someone tells me they know me. I have to bite my tongue to keep +from asking which one of me they know. How fast would that end me up +with a room with four padded walls and a shrink who's last name is +undoubtedly 16 letters ending in 'ski'? I enjoy my different sides. +Occasionally when they all merge together for no apparent reason, +there's me. Complete and standing there, with every side showing for the +world to see, until I shatter again. Poet, painter, humanitarian. Book +lover. music fiend. Shy side. outlandish me. The one you don't dare to +do anything, because you know she would. Then there's the retired me's. +the ones that I've outgrown, that don't fit anymore. I remember when i +was nine.. and my mother was angry and told me that I wasn't the sweet +girl I used to be, and that I'd turned into a brat, and she was ashamed +of me. I've never forgotten that. Over all the insults thrown at me over +the years, that one has stuck with me, and hurt the most. People have +insulted me over the years, but never with the all-out devastation of +that shot from my mother. I'm not a bad person. or maybe I am. Look at +anything from different angles and it usually appears to be different +from one side, then from another. So what if I don't cry at funerals? +crack a smile at weddings? who cares if I didn't cry when I saw +_Titanic_? I've learned not to cry. Don't hold it against me. I've sat +in a hospital bed, half-dead from blood loss and shock and not cried. +I've sat there with a life bleeding out of me, and never shed a tear. +Some things are too deep to cry over. People have to learn that, I have, +and it makes me strange. Fine. I've felt emotional and physical pain +that the 'average' person could only shudder and guess at, and not +cried. I'm not heartless. Far from it actually. I just have armor built +around my heart, and it's been there for 3 years. No one's ever pierced +it until recently. I've only cried twice in three years. Both in the +last month. Maybe I'm getting weak. + +The only person ever to pierce it, I've known for a grand total of about +seven months, with any general closeness being limited to the past +three. It scares the hell out of me. I feel like I'm Alcatraz and +someone just escaped. I don't know quite what to do with myself. My +sister made me cry, telling me that she wished I was dead, or that I'd +just hurry up and move so she'd never have to see me again. And lastly, +on a long drive home, not knowing if I'd just changed, or ruined one of +the best things that had happened to me in a long time. I'd shared my +mind, the outcries of my soul in the form of poetry, and lastly, my +body. Sitting there, pretending to be alright with my mind overladen +with thoughts that I shouldn't be thinking, isn't new to me. It's the +only time its ever made me shed a tear though. Worrying? Definitely. +It's one of those questions that only time can answer, and that +sometimes makes it worse. body, mind, soul. Question is, was it all too +much? It's the kind of thing that stifles you. Makes you worry, makes +you wonder, and yet, you'll never know until it's actually time for you +to know, no sooner, no later, not until then. Then again, you may just +never know. So, I say, fuck it. I'm tired of worrying, of wondering. +I'll piece myself together later if it's necessary, if its not. I'm +lucky. Live and die. It's as simple as that. + +-amethyst remembrance + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0572.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0572.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..05430751 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0572.txt @@ -0,0 +1,156 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Solstice + -------- + +Darkness encircled his eyes in a betrayal of fatigue, not so much induced +by insomnia as by the unrest of his waking hours. No amount of sleep that +he could persevere to achieve seemed at all capable of counterbalancing +the impotent adrenal rush of feeling like a rat in a submerged cage - +like a lab rat in the process of sadistic testing; yes, that was it. That +was almost the feeling, depending on which numbers the hands lay upon. +But that was one of them, for sure. + +How did it start again? Re-collection was simply too much picking up of +articles better forgotten. Instead, he simply wandered about in that +desolate hole and ruminated about whatever he came upon in his desultory +travels. How long had he remained in this fetid room? Too long. No, in +truth, not that long he corrected. Not that long, he affirmed, as he +struggled to remember the starting point of the Not That Long. Hell, +yesterday and its contents were mostly an inscrutable amalgam that took +more energy to comprehend than to forget. Why go to the beginning of the +end, when the end seemed much more a beginning? + +He reflected upon why. Why he was here. Simply put, the solstice simply +didn't play savior to him this year. He continued through living his +life, but as he did, the days continued to shorten and shorten. He +assumed that such was a normal occurrence, or a fluke phenomenon that +would soon dissipate. The days continued, inexorably and seemingly +ineptly, as though time had actually lost tempo and continually +accelerated and decelerated in an attempt to rectify its error; and as +each day continued, so did the darkness creep upon and overtake the +light, until finally the light capitulated his world to the sable blanket +that now perpetually enshrouded it. + +It was his world that was so devoid of light, as the others continued +their play. He still remembered the awestruck horror with which he beheld +that the others did not even notice the siege of the pall upon the world, +until it finally occurred to him, amidst the truculent battle cries and +cheerful giggling of one of their many revels, that they were unaffected +by this sinister eternal night. They seemed not to feel the biting cold +of forever's winter, nor did their eyes seem to speak to them of the +blindness that accompanies no sunlight. Days were spent in incessant +obsession: were they truly immune, or merely naive?...that is, was it +cognizance or common ground that was lacking? + +The knife-turn of events left him sequestered in his room, lighting +provided by candles with bright, ardent flames so powerful that they +burned him when he got too close, but too weak to warm him if he strayed +away. Another peculiarity of these essential flames was their latency; +unless you felt them, or saw their effects on the other components of the +room as they filtered through the waving, dancing heat, they were fully +undetectable. Odorless, colorless - truly did they fit in with the +emotional inanition and listlessness of his room. The walls had a color, +to be sure, as all things do, but the light never found its way to them; +thus, he was forced to explore them, when he managed to confront the +dread it evinced, in stark darkness. + +The walls, in fact, were quite peculiar. Albeit they were impossible to +see through the murk that surrounded them, he would get a natural feel of +their presence when it came time for them to do their job. They appeared +to be ever-shifting, vacillating between the vague regions of Near and +Far with an almost undetectable stealth and speed. They even seemed more +of dense, impregnable fluid contrivances than of inflexible material most +often used for confinement. + +He would often wander in some odd direction, either by his intention or +by a mysterious external pull, and when he slammed headlong into the +wall, he would instantly recall its purpose there and sudden waves of an +alienating terror overtook him. In this state, he knew that he was +incapable of survival outside of this dank prison that held him... + +Over time, whereupon his wounds simply healed into grotesque internal +scars, the discomfort and hideousness of which only he could observe, he +began to wonder why it was that he was so confined. Why it was that these +macabre partisans withheld his view of the outside world? Even the +windows had blackened over with grime from lack of maintenance. +Occasionally, he would hear voices faintly speaking his name, seeming to +talk to him, but he knew they were not for him. They never were before; +how could they be now? And why? No -- they were not for him. Not before, +not ever. + +He said this to himself and a shudder virulently made its way down his +spine. Perhaps he was afraid. Afraid because he didn't know how to answer +back. Afraid because if he dared to even hope for a reply to no avail, +then the walls of his prison might just crush him under their enormous +weight. Afraid because it burned and ached and gnawed to be in this +feeble form of pseudo-existence, but he remembered the darkness and the +extreme, bitter cold outside and a deluge of memories taunted his +flickering sense of being and he said, "No." + +As days increased, the candles grew ever hotter and more fierce, but +their flames boasted but little strength and but the slightest draught +would extinguish them -- curiously, though, he need never relight them, +as simply picking up a photograph or even a glance at the walls would +strike them up again with a new dead life. + +Through eon after eon of the tense terseness and isolated immolation, he +remained within the dread walls that he knew not how long he had been +inside; more than a single day, to be sure, but of months? years? It was +simply beyond him to surmise. He was not altogether sure that it even met +his concern. He wondered if it could meet another's concern? Then he +would scoff outwardly at his gullibility to that impish Eros, Hope, while +his inner recesses would, quite secretly to all other regions of himself, +pray with the desperation of the condemned minutes before judgment. + +Judgment, that is, in the form of internal apocalypses. Every prior +action, every move, every thought was subject to analysis and +cross-examination, every mistake was etched in a memorial wall and every +victory was debated as a mistake. Nothing escaped the prosecution, and +the defense was too wrapped up in comprehending the barrage to even begin +a response, much less a repudiation. Eventually he learned to tune out +the droning of the self-loathing-automatons when it was critical to do so +so that he could still function, from time to time, if functioning was +even still possible while within this gulag of listlessness. + +Not all was lost, but it all suffocated under the dense cloak enveloping +the contents of the room. This asphyxiation was too inefficient to +actually kill, but enough to maim, or at least substantially sap, its +unwiliing underlings. Though it was too strong for him to destroy, it was +not so powerful that it could destroy him either; in fact it needed him, +in the parasitic fashion that a strangler fig needs its host tree to +remain alive before it finally destroys it and takes its place. The +difference was that this was actually manifesting itself within him; +changing him to a numb, cold austerity, and yet the rest became nothing +more than a bitter reflection of what those fragments once were. Slowly, +gradually, he began to lose himself. And in that was the true horror, +because the further along it got, the more it felt like there was no way +out, but the less time there was to check, and finally, it concluded, +with his old self far dissipated, and in its place was a stoic physical +replica whose innards consisted solely of an hourglass and an +inscrutable, viscous dark liquid. + + +- agrajag +http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Club/1610/ + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0573.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0573.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0d172dd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0573.txt @@ -0,0 +1,107 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Marijuana & Political Science + The Connection + ----------------------------- + +It is now 10:47pm on the west coast. My name is The Jackal. I am currently +stoned right now, after smoking some hella-fi Northern California +Sensimilla +Now the topic we will discuss tonight boys in girls, is a little story +about +A college student (Perhaps somebody like me) who has a political science +class, but he has a few hours before his class. so he has to figure out +what +he's gonna do for a couple of hours. + +It is 2:46pm PST and "This Guy" is waiting for his english teacher to +finish +up his lecture, so he can get out and figure out what he's gonna do. "You +may go," said the English Professor. "This Guy" walks out of the class and +sees his budy "Hey You" This Guy" calls over to "Hey You" and Hey You walks +over to This Guy and say's "Hey man, you doin' anything right now?" This +Guy +responds by saying "Nah man you got anything in mind?" and Hey You responds +"Hell ya man, you wanna go over to the baseball diamond and smoke this +smokalicious dopalicious bud?" "Sure man.," responds This Guy. + +Sitting on the pitcher's mound of the baseball diamond, Hey You opens up +his knapsack and pulls out a very sophisticated smoke inhalation device, +with a gasmask type apparatus attached. Hey You reaches into another +pocket and pulls out a dime bag of some good lookin' bud. He then begins +the process of inserting the Marijuana into the Output device of the smoke +device. He gives the device to his buddy and says ""Go ahead man you can +spark it up first." Taking his cue from his buddy, This Guy pulls a lighter +out of his pocket and blazes up the Bud, taking up a couple of tokes of the +bong/pipe This Guy inhales very deeply, taking the essence of what it good +in the world into his lungs. He then breathes in a little air and takes one +more hit, and passes it to his buddy. + +Exhaling loudly This Guy asks Hey You "Hey man this is good quality shit +you +got here." Hey You responds with a "Thanks man. I got this stuff from my +top +supplier, he usually gives me some good ganja." "Cool Man" says This Guy +"Hey +don't you have a Political Science class soon." This Guy responds with a +"I sure do bra, but it's cool cause I get through his class easy when I'm +stoned." "oh yeah bra, how's that?" "Well," This Guy responds "when your in +a Political Science class, you find that the concepts are sometimes +difficult +to comprehend." "Oh Yeah" said Hey You, "Yeah sure is man" say This Guy +"You see when studying Political Science, your overall understanding of the +material, is determined by your ability to understand the psyche of the +person who achieved some feat in the birth of our great country." +"Wow man, that is totally far out bro," said Hey You with great admiration +at his friend. "I mean you totally understand the concepts of history is +not about events or dates, it's about people," said Hey You. + +"Hey man you know what time it is?" "whhaaat man," replied Hey You. "Do you +know what time it is," repeated This Guy. "Oh it's 6:15 pm man," replied +Hey You. "Wow man, we must've fallen asleep, I gotta go man I can't be late +for my class." "Okay man," replied Hey Your, "Catchya later bra." This guy +starts running for his class and disappears around a corner. "Catchya later +bra, " whispers Hey You to himself. Hey you sits up and still finds himself +in the baseball diamond, I guess the home team is at an away game thinks +Hey You. He looks down to find his pipe laying on the ground. He picks it +up +and examines it. Hmm it looks okay sparking his lighter he is just about to +toke up when he finds his bowl is empty. Hmmmm thought Hey You, he reaches +into his knapsack and retrieves his dime bag. He fills the bowl with the +magic +secret Mary Jane, and is just about to spark up again. When all of a sudden +he hears footsteps. Coming over the horizon, he sees his friend walking +towards him. "Hey bra I though you had a class right now," inquires Hey You +"Yeah I know, but I decided that with the knowledge I gained about +Political +Science in todays session, I found I did not want to share my knowledge +with +the class. I felt I should keep it to myself," replies This Guy "Okay man," +replies Hey You. "Yo bra, you wanna toke up this bowl?" inquires Hey You +"Sure Man," replies Hey You + + + I hope you enjoyed, because I enjoyed writing. + + The Jackal + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0574.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0574.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..dfe65f9d --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0574.txt @@ -0,0 +1,112 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Getting High School + ------------------- + +I've decided to become straightedge. You know: No more drugs, no more +alcohol, no more casual sex. Hmm, than again, maybe not. + +So I went to this party on last Friday, hell my friends and I go to a +party every Friday. There's Cole(the alcoholic), Jamaal( the soon to be +pothead), Skye(the true Pothead), Richie(who insists he's a DJ), Phil +(could he be more normal), and myself(I don 't do cocaine, I just sell +it). Anywho, we went to this party and most of you know the song is true, +everywhere we go we see the same hoes. Well, not just hoes, but always the +same people. + +Now, most members of "the crew" are seniors save myself (junior) and +Skye(frosh) and while some of you may remember your senior year of High +School, those probably didn't party like we do. The alcohol, the drugs, +the sight of your drunken female classmat es taking off their clothing and +giving a two dollar lap dance to some 8th grade kid who lives down the +street and stumbled into the party. The point is its usually a good time, +but times change. + +Jamaal, as mentioned earlier, is quickly becoming a druggie. I met Jamaal +a year ago when I set my sister up with him. He fucked my sister but +that's not pertinent to the story. He told me once that if I ever thought +he was becoming dependant on drugs of any kind that I should let him know +that he needs to cut back. Fine. At this particular party I broke out +with a quarter sack of really good shit. The day before A friend of mine +made some purified THC and we soaked this stuff in it. I don't smoke pot, +I used to, but I try to do as little drugs as possible nowadays. I packed +Jamaal a couple of bowls and he smoked them all by himself. You should +never smoke by yourself same way you should never drink by yourself and I +chose this time to tell him that I th ought he was becoming an addict. +Shit. + +Apparently I'm a fucking hypocrite, I mean according to my African +brother. Maybe he's right, he had a pretty strong case. I mean, while I +don't do many drugs I do deal a bit for extra money. I'm the go to guy for +half of the 2500 students that populate m y high school. What do you need? +Cocaine? Got it. Weed? Got it. What did Jammal and I need? Acid. Got it. + +I opened my wallet and from within the folds I produced two tabs of +amazingly good Mad Hatter. For those of you who don't know acid, Mad +Hatter is better than, say, Pink Elephants, but not exactly the best shit +for you. As Jamaal And I placed the tabs on our respective tongues I +realized that I was indeed a hypocrite but in an hour or so I wouldn't +care. I didn't. + +Eighty minutes and three Camel Filters later I didn't care anymore. Jamaal +kept shouting at me about tree people, and Skye and I lay on the grass in +the backyard, he was toasted, I was tripping, and the grass never felt so +wonderful. I could hear Richie mixing some funky beats in the background +and after a quick call to A girl named Deborah who was on her way over, I +was pretty sure I was going to get laid that night(I didn't). Phil and +Cole were presumably drunk, but hey, you've got to make your own fun . + +Than it happened. This cat Armando is one of the most popular guys in +school. He knows me by my nickname "Elvis" as most people do but I doubt +he knows my real name. He falls face first into the grass next to Skye and +I. He just passes out and everyone la ughs, Than skye says something +memorable and it occurs to me that I haven't heard a human voice in about +20 minutes. He says "Wow, Armando isn't half as cool when he's drunk." +He's right, He wasn't. + +I get up and walk into the house. Over the sink Jennifer , a member of the +Senior Skank Crew and loyal cocaine customer , is throwing up into the +sink. Is this what High school is all about? I wonder as the vomit heads +down the drain. I later found out th at she had only six beers. SIX! And I +thought I had no tolerance. + +This story has no moral. Upon asking myself the question above about this +being what high school is all about, I realize that the answer is yes. +For me at least. At my high school at least. + +I don't drink that much. I don't like it. But I smoke a pack of Camels +every two days and I am your local pusher man. Straightedge is hardly a +possibility if I cant have casual sex. But someday I'm gonna be forced to +grow up and then this all ends. + +I'm sorry if I've offended anyone with this. Its just a story of an +average Friday night. A portrait if you will. But this is my life and I +know at least five other people who do the same thing. I'm sure there are +others. Live for today. + +"And you'll dance, and drink and screw, because there's nothing else to +do." - Pulp , Common People + + +~Tuxedo Mask +TuxedoMask@cyberdude.com + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0575.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0575.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cd768162 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0575.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Got What I Want + --------------- + + You know its sad, I have finally achieved everything I wanted, +in my mind and yet I am miserable. When I came to college I had all +these ideals and expectations, and all of them where destroyed within +the first week. I came to school knowing where I came from, where I +wanted to go and what I wanted out of life, I am about to leave it +hollow and empty, all because I sold out. I have become now +everything that I hated three years ago, and I want to kill myself +because of the self betrayal I feel. + + When I first got to college I listened to my music, had my +strong religious and philosophy beliefs and now I am about to leave it +with everyone elses. When I came to college an individual was inside +of me and now I am part of the popular crowd and I can't even look +myself in the mirror any more because of it. I went to a job +interview yesterday and the man that was interviewing me said that I +looked like a clean cut all-American man, I wanted to jump out of the +window right then and there. See people in high school always want to +belong, one way or another, and I was never one of those people. I liked +being different, I feed off of listening to strange music, reading +philosophy while everyone else was reading the sports page, I revelled +in my understanding of things that most people in high school didn't +give a shit about, now I read the fucking newspaper and have yet to +pick up a good book about human nature in two years. + + To pinpoint the exact time and place would be impossible, I +would say that one of the major ones was joining a fraternity. This +fraternity claimed that they where different, that they liked +uniqueness, but last night it dawned on me how much the same they +really are, the whole fucking lot of them. When someone made the +comment "Chicks and Sports are a huge part of fraternity life", I +thought to myself what the hell have I fucking done? I am now apart +of the machine that I hated for so long, I have sold my soul, for +what? I came home after that conversation and looked at myself in the +mirror, I noticed my clean shaven face, my clean cut haircut and I +asked myself, "what the hell have I become?" When did sports and +chicks make up who the hell I am? Don't get me wrong, I love women, +but they don't define me as a man, and I don't need to sleep with one +on a weekly basis to prove who the hell I am. When did sports become +a part of my life? What the hell is going on here? In a fit of rage +I shaved my head and flushed my brother badge down the toilet. My +soul now feels lost, hell last week I purchased the soundtrack to GO +for god's sake. One of the biggest mistakes I did was join Lambda +Conform Alpha, and I wish that I never did it. They say they are new, +and different, they say that they are about diversity and knowledge, +its a bunch of shit. It is like the church asking you to pay your way +into heaven, its a crock. They are like the rest of them, they belive +in sex as a status symbol, they use sports as their proving ground and +drinking for their brotherhood. + + Ignoring the fraternity what else has happened? I see so many +small incidents, and choices building up over time, now I regret them +all. I hate my "friends" I hate my life, I hate it all. I have what +I want now, and I would give it all back to go back three years and +stop the starting of selling out of my soul and my integrity, if +anyone else is struggling with this, remember what made you strong, as +I will in the near future. + +-Maxell + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = += WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0576.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0576.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bd5af785 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0576.txt @@ -0,0 +1,91 @@ + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Random Thoughts + --------------- + + + Hmmm well just a quick but somewhat amusing/scary/interesting thought that +just came to light recently. I've thought this before but it was just its +reoccurance due to a specific situation that made me think about writing on +it. To put it in a nutshell I've noticed that we humans need other humans to +keep us safe from ourselves... To clarify: Those people that seems to spend +an extended period of time self absorbed in deep introspection usually are +far less carefree than those others that are constantly 'distracted' via +social interaction. The slightly humorous part, its almost as if we need +social interaction to keep ourselves safe from our own mind. I realize that +I'm generalizing things slightly when I say this, but nonetheless mental +instability is something inflicted upon us by ourselves, deep introspection, +totally self absorption in our own world created by our own mind. Of course +chemical imbalances or environmental circumstances all play a role in the +cause of mental sickness, however mental sickness' battlefield is carried +out in what is the essence of our individuality, our thoughts. Nothing +ground breaking in this, just more of a general observation and its irony. + + It almost seems as if our mind is not the controlling mechanism of our +existence, its almost as if this mass that we call the brain is an entity on +its own and not our human defining entity. Almost as if it has its own +agenda, our conscious thoughts occupy a small portion, something really +insignificant and with minimal control. Reason I say this is as follows. As +we all know, soldiers can become shell shocked after seeing all that +destruction, death and other sickening actions, which the mind deals with by +a variety of means. However, all these means are not something that we can +consciously define, or say that we consciously trained ourselves to follow. +All of these defense mechanisms were the result of subconscious changes, +almost as if there is that other part of our brain that controls us, that +does anything necessary to sustain its own existance. Reason I say its own +existence is because invariably these changes alienate use as humans from +the rest of society... which obviously isn't something that any sane +individual would want. Selfish little thing isn't it? + + So I guess all those 'shallow' individuals that are so carefree +are the ones who are the most sane? I don't know, it might be true. One +thing that all deep thinkers like to believe is that in someway we are +'deeper', we have more substance, our personality is defined more by our +actions rather than our appearance. I can't argue with that, but is that +really something to pursue? If I had a choice I can't say that I would +really want to be in the present situation that I am. I think that I would +prefer to be one of the carefree and shallow.. after all what's the point of +living if the only memories one will have is of those lonesome days and +nights with oneself and one's thoughts. The quality of one's life is defined +largely by the memories, material wealth plays a very small part in the +grand scheme of happiness. Memorable moments rarely if every center around +moments of seclusion, not to say one can't only have memories of seclusion. +The urge to criticize 'shallow' individuals is rooted a jealousy most of the +Time. I say this because I'm aware of myself being guilty of this. I think I +could have so much to say, some much to discuss with people.. however I also +lack the ability to communicate on the level of the 'shallow', to make +inane conversation. Once again this is not a criticism of the 'shallow' +people, just a description of what our present society considers of that +sort of conversation. + + In the end maybe we should all force ourselves to get out, to mix with as +many people as possible. Don't just get drawn towards those people like +oneself, its good to know people similar to oneself, but what's the point of +mulling over the same stuff again and again. I for one am tired of always +talking about the way things are, and the way to resolve them... I think all +people of reasonably mental stability are aware of how to resolve their +situation, they just do not have the desire to do it... or fear it too much. + + Inner^Kry - 15/May/99 + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = += Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = += "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = += issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = += http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = += AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = += FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = += FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= += (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0577.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0577.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..73b3b8d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0577.txt @@ -0,0 +1,154 @@ + + + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Dear Mom and Dad + ---------------- + + Hello, Daddy. + What's the knife for? + You should know, you've been twisting it in my heart for almost 23 years + now. + What am I going to do with it? + Why, twist it in your heart. + Oh look, you're bleeding now. + This one is for abandoning me when I was 5. + Don't fucking cry, you piece of fucking shit. + You just have a little knife wound in your chest. + I have my whole fucking life destroyed. + This one is for hitting my Mommy. + I inherited your violent tendencies, you know. + That's why I know you're such a piece of shit. + I have the same urge that you do but I've never given in. + I'm not a fucking pussy like you are. + I don't have to make up for my emotional weaknesses by beating on those + with physical weakness. + Look, you're bleeding even more now. + Soon your heart will be as empty as mine. + I could walk away right now and you'd bleed to death, but that's not + good + enough. + Just like I was never good enough. + Nothing I ever did was right, you could always find something wrong. + The few occasions that I managed to be perfect, you simply ignored me. + Seeing me rise above your patheticness hurt, didn't it? + I hope this knife hurts just as bad as it did everytime you spit on my + accomplishments. + How does it feel to be the one getting stabbed in the heart for a + change? + I learned this from you, you know. + You taught me to always control everthing. + You're the reason I always have to be in charge, regardless of the + costs. + This one is for the time you kicked me out of your house because my + severe + depression inconvenienced you. + Was it as inconvenient as that gaping wound in your chest? + I'm sorry my emotional turmoil is a problem for you. + I guess if I was a real man, I'd be able to keep my emotions hidden. + Of course, I've never had a real man to look up to, so I guess that'll + never be a trait I pick up. + Oh look, you're dead now. + Too bad it's too late for it to really do much good. + Oh well, maybe it'll save my baby sister some pain. + She's already started down the same path as I have. + Hopefully I can save her from that. + Now excuse me while I piss on your corpse. + + + What's that Mommy? + Why am I holding a bloody knife? + Oh, that's just Daddy's blood. + You know how you're always bitching at me about paying you back what you + believe I owe you? + Well, I'm about to give you back everything you ever gave me. + What? You want to talk about this? + That's funny, you never wanted to talk to me about anything when I was + younger. + You never wanted to talk when it was *my* life on the line. + That's probably why I can't fucking talk to people now. + The words are there but I can't figure out how to make them come out. + You bitch at me for spending so much time on the computer but you're the + one that fucking drove me there. + Why do you think I spend so much time there? + I don't have anyone to talk to here. + I suppose it was a fair trade, though. + You never told us a damn thing about your life and you never bothered to + ask about ours. + I'll be graduating from college this year. + Are you proud of me again? + Too bad you won't live to see it. + Remember when I dropped out of college the first time? + You bitched at me for making you look bad in front of your friends. + Fuck you. + Oops.. Did I cut you? + Not long ago, I wanted to cut myself. + You would have gotten too much satisfaction out of that, though. + This is much more productive. + Want to complain about how I'm killing you? + Nothing else was ever right, I'm sure you can find something about your + own + murder to complain about. + Did I just slit your throat? + Guess now you'll never have to worry about talking to me again. + I hope you're proud of yourself. + Isn't that what you always said to me? + Well, I hope you're proud of yourself. + By trying to force me to be all the things you wanted to be before you + fucked up your own life, you managed to fuck me up even more than + yourself. + I don't know if I'll ever have the time to pinpoint all the ways you've + screwed me up. + Sure, it's up to me to make sure I don't repeat your fucking mistakes, + but + there are so many I don't know if I can ever find them all. + Sometimes I think it's not even worth the trouble. + But you and Daddy both taught me to never let anyone else be right. + So I'll be damned if I let you win. + Was that your dying breath? + First positive thing I've heard come out of your mouth in years. + I'm sure somewhere you're bitching about that as well. + + + -InVerse + + Dedicated to my parents + whom almost make me wish I believed in God + simply so + I could see them in hell. + + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions + = + = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) + = + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with + = + = "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back + = + = issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. + = + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck + = + = http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck + = + = AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK + = + = FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck + = + = FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK + = + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. + = + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0578.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0578.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..19be9f26 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0578.txt @@ -0,0 +1,110 @@ + + + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + YOUR RIGHTS!!! + -------------- + + This T-file is more or less and explanation of your rights and how the + are unlawfully being infringed upon by certain elements of your government + which supposedly works for you, THE PEOPLE! + + + I am currently watching a funding proposal for Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco & + Firearms (BATF) on C-SPAN. WHAT THE FUCK! Here I am listening to their + propaganda bullshit and after all their fuckups they have the balls to ask + me for more money to continue their unconstitutional actions. The BATF acquired + a Fiscal Year budget of 12.5 BILLION dollars last year. In their proposal + they indicate that with more funding they will be able to help rid our streets of + violent criminal offenders and the guns they use. They talk about how with + increased funding, they would be able to keep track of all guns in the + United States by creating a database in which manufacturer's and wholesaler's will + submit(voluntarily of course) serial numbers for the guns they produce. Not + to mention increased funding for their ballistics laboratory, in which they + expressed there usefulness by telling us about their role in determining who + was responsible for the massacres in Bosnia, through their ballistics + laboratories. They also want additional funding for another database in + regards to arson and explosives and BLAH BLAH BLAH. + + I don't know about you but I really don't think this agency should get + additional funding. Quite the contrary I believe this agency should be + abolished. The BATF's main charter is to infringe upon your constitutional + rights as a citizen of the United States. I read an earlier FUCK file about + the BATF and the author made it quite clear what this rogue agency is all + about. Basically it is the Gestapo arm of the government. The BATF's + main business is to harass citizens. especially those who have Federal + Firearms Licenses, and law abiding citizens who own guns. + + BATF tactics include busting down people's doors down in the early hours + of the morning without announcing themselves and this type of behavior more + often that not gets people killed. I mean shit usually the cops have the + goddamn common courtesy to at least knock on your door, announce their + presence, and inform you that they have a search warrant. Not the fucking + BATF, No Sir, they enter your house in all black riot/swat gear with no + identifiable marks whatsoever with automatic weapons (WHICH EVEN CITIZENS + AREN'T ALLOWED TO HAVE). All they want to do is infringe upon your rights, + more specifically your Second Amendment rights, which clearly states + "...THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE TO KEEP AND BEAR ARMS SHALL NOT BE INFRINGED," + end of quote, CLEAR FUCKING ENGLISH. A couple of examples come to + mind...Waco, Ruby Ridge these images come to my mind. They bust your door, + beat you up, harass and intimidate you, because your beliefs are in conflict + with the Politically Correct Government Machine. Most of the time these + raids are the result of ANONYMOUS TIPS that often turn out to be false. Another + motherfuckin' infringement on our constitutional rights. In the sixth + amendment it says "...AND TO BE INFORMED OF THE NATURE AND CAUSE OF THE + ACCUSATION; TO BE CONFRONTED WITH THE WITNESSES AGAINST HIM..." another + clear violation of your rights!!! + + These infringements are compounded upon by an obscure law that most + people don't know about. It is known as the ASSET FORFEITURE LAW, which + is a favorite among law enforcement personnel. The asset Forfeiture Law + states that anybody who uses their property to facilitate a crime can and + will be seized by law enforcement. For example if you use your phone in + your house to initiate a drug deal your house and everything you own can + be SEIZED by he government. Now is it just me or does this seem to be the + same kind of fucking bullshit we escaped from 220 years ago. + + I think it's just me. As a matter of fact the way Asset Forfeiture Law + works, YOU DO NOT EVEN HAVE TO BE CHARGED WITH A CRIME for the government + to seize your property. Your property is usually sold and the proceeds + liquidated to finance further injustices by this rogue agency and their fucked + up laws. + However these motherfuckers can't seem to read, because in the fifth + amendment is clearly states "...NOR SHALL PRIVATE PROPERTY BE TAKEN FOR PUBLIC USE + WITHOUT JUST COMPENSATION." this type of action is in clear violation of the + Constitution, AND THEY'RE GETTING AWAY WITH IT. Why? Because people are + willing to sacrifice freedom for security. Personally, I feel more secure with a + .12 gauge shotgun and 9mm Beretta than having law enforcement personnel + attempt to protect me. Look at it this way, what do police officers do? + They respond to criminal activities, they don't PREVENT, they RESPOND. + Now how the fuck do cops protect people by arriving at the scene of a crime, + AFTER THE FACT? Citizens should be responsible for their own security, + rather than having BIG BROTHER do it for them. What does that entail? + It means more freedom for law abiding citizens. It means more permits + for concealed weapons, no more of this pissant bullshit Brady Law + ban of assault weapon shit, for law abiding citizens. Your rights are + being stripped away piece by piece by a socialistic government that + claims "TO KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU" + + + The Jackal + + + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = + = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = To receive new issues through mail, mail majordomo@attrition.org with = + = "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back = + = issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = WWW *** http://www.attrition.org/fuck = + = http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = + = AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = + = FTP.DTO.NET/pub/zines/fuck = + = FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0579.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0579.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e3934f89 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuck0579.txt @@ -0,0 +1,69 @@ + + + + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + + Rest in Peace + ------------- + + They say that all good things must come to an end. If they were truly + good, I doubt they would end. + + To many, this file should not come as any surprise. With the last + year came very few releases for the zine. Many say the quality of + them had gone down as well, but that is a matter of personal taste. + + I am well aware of the arguments for keeping the zine alive. It takes + no effort to just leave it on the back burner and not kill it off. While + true, I think it does a disservice to our readers. It gives them the + illusion that it will one day come back and be an active publication. + Mind you, based on submissions it easily could be. However, on the part + of those running it, the inflow of new articles is still not enough to + keep the interest. + + I have been thinking for the past week or so on how to end this zine. + A journal of sorts that has lasted most of my adult life. Seven years + in the making. A sounding board to dozens of people who felt it was the + best voice to carry their thoughts and feelings. The zine was being read + worldwide before the first issue was posted to an Internet FTP site. + Having that kind of readership at the time was a phenomenal tool to + the handful of writers. + + Rather than end this with a long rant, I think it more appropriate to + end it on a short note. From here on out, F.U.C.K. is dead. While not + impossible, it is quite improbable that it will be brought back to + life. New rants and articles can be found on my new hobby, Attrition + (www.attrition.org). + + After this file is posted to the FUCK mail list (fuck@attrition.org), + I will open the list for unmoderated discussion. That will leave the + wouldbe writers a forum to share their ideas. I also encourage the + writers who submitted files that were not published to resubmit them + to other zines. Just because I didn't get around to your file doesn't + mean it wasn't worth reading. Further, FUCK Poetry Venture will + continue on. Submissions to jericho@attrition.org, subscribe to the + list by mailing majordomo@attrition.org with 'subscribe fuckpoem' in + the body of the message. + + It's been a fun ride. + + Disorder + aka Jericho + + Jan 24, 1993 - Jan 24, 2000 + + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions = + = Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK = + = FTP.DTO.NET /pub/zines/fuck = + = FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK = + = WWW http://www.attrition.org/~fuck = + = http://aomt.netmegs.com/fuck = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + = (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. = + =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fucklist.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fucklist.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..133b60fd --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fucklist.txt @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ + +Date: Wed, 4 Nov 1998 04:52:40 -0700 (MST) +From: mea culpa +To: fuck@attrition.org +Subject: [FUCK] The new list? + + + +Where has the zine gone? Why haven't i released? Well, if you are getting +this, things are looking up :) + +A big change on the mail list and the system hosting first of all. +Unfortunately I haven't had much time to get the list moved quicker. +Sekurity.org is no more, but attrition.org is stepping in to fill the +void. Everything should be fairly trasparent. + +Well, here it is. I have about 15 - 20 articles ready to go out, so expect +them to start rolling out in the next few days. I'll try to release no +more than one a day, give or take, so as not to flood you with too much. + +As usual, submissions/questions/rants/death_threats to +jericho@dimensional.com + +Thanks! + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp001.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp001.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..36e22cf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp001.txt @@ -0,0 +1,124 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + welcome to the first release of F.U.C.K.'s poetry venture. + as more submissions for the zine come in, the more poetry + i see. because of the structure of the base zine, i felt + a separate series would be in order. as you all know, + demonika has been a big contributor to the zine, and her + files are more poetic overall. this lead me to solicit + her help in the new venture. + + there are no set boundaries for this part of the zine. + we only look for poems that express the feelings of the + author, and do not look for any specific topic. in fact, + poems about unconventional topics are especially welcome. + + as always, feedback (good or bad) is welcome. let us know + what you think so that we may improve the quality as + needed. in the mean time... + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + magnetic poetry i. + + in his raw garden dreams + delicious poetry is less + a gifted language than an + urge essential to him. + if he produced a whisper of beauty, + could he rip out the + frantic void in his breast? + + demonika + + + + regarding inner turmoil + + Silenced pain my warmth at night, + while in my mind a raging fight, + the longing to take a final breath + and slip into awaiting death. + + Chilling coldness burns my fingers, + emotional scars can only linger, + + Confusion and chaos wrap around me + seemingly eternal will it be + one thing in my life keeps me sane, + on my warm face a refreshing rain. + + dis 1995 + + + + A weight of gold, laid upon my head. + A pound of hatred, and a pinch of spite, + add a twist of fate, and a hint of spice, + and there you have, the piece upon my body. + + Bronzing powder awaits, somewhere, + as I think to live on. + + Paying a price, for something that I never did, + and would never do again. + Making a place, in this hellish hole, + for me, myself and I. + To hide and make do, with what life I had lived. + + A coffin once picked out, + lies open, just for me. + + A pint of boiling gold, a pound of hatred, + a pinch of spite. + Mix and stir, and there you have, + the makings of this tortured soul. + + Add a twist of fate, and a hint of spice, + and there you have, the piece upon my head, + that weighs me down, and pushes me further + down, then hells basement. + + For, here I am, burning and dying, + for something I never dreamt of doing. + + kamira October 21st, 1997 + + + + "I'm not as messed up as I want to be." - They Might be Giants + + Why is the world so broken? Who put the dead birds so + high in the tree? Can you catch the dust so diluted in the + air? Can you kiss the cheek of Mother Nature then swear you + never cared? It rains milk on Sunday afternoon, and orange + juice in the morning. Who has the keys to the kingdom, and + who touched the silk bread bring hanging to the wind? It is + too bad the silver lined sky has been plastered with red brink. + It is too bad that the rats under our rugs are mechanical in + nature. For if the world has been a better place we would all + still be alive, instead of being eaten from the inside out. + + rage-303 + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/poetry + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All files copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp002.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp002.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2076f687 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp002.txt @@ -0,0 +1,135 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + poetry is a means of looking into the soul. without the + confines of grammar and paragraphs, rigid form, or even + spelling (witness e.e. cummings), the poet can merely lay + out the words that describe his purest intention, using + pattern, rhyme, and structure to outline the intended + effect. a poem can say in four lines what an essay cannot + say in four hundred. therein lies the magic of poetry - written + well it can be a timeless expression of the human condition, + without the trappings of an over abundance of words. + + demonika + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Interlude + + Lightning opened the room + And cast shadows on the bodies + Twisted in a naked embrace + Tossing in the blue-black light + Teeth gnashing tongue flicking + White flesh colliding with sin + Frenzied motion and gritty words + Thunder closed the room + + demonika + + + + regarding music + + cool trance of unethical meditation + sounds of silence and noise of art + little box on the floor with reverb + quiet me, soothe me, relax me, rape me + + dis + + + + right now + + Daggers hidden deep within her eyes, + dodging direct contact, + and avoiding the obvious. + + Loud music, rhythms blasting. + Bass pounding, as a heart beat, + a soul so shattered. + + Green pools with brownish gold swirls flowing down, around them. + Fair skin, the softest at touch, + and a look in her eyes that could kill, if she wanted. + + Running her tongue over her lips, + a bright colour, full of life, + a fever runs through her, + that no one would ever know. + + Daggers hidden deep within her eyes, + dodging direct contact, + and avoiding the obvious. + + Jaded heart, + shattered soul, + murderous look, + a spirit trapped, + now gone from hatred ... + And, left as dust. + + Me, Myself, and I. + + + + Amnesia + + Once filled with images, + Words, colors. + Now grey, desolate; + Lingering scent -- + Dust? + + Fragments smeared, + Blurred, + Shattered. + Wiped. + + Erased. + + Legion + + + + Can we say, non-sequitur? + + Next time you see the pander kissing find a strong bow to + pluck their feather dust. Make the caravan an open house + to fold the witty unknown. To love we give our devotion + and passion. To lust we throw caution through the pole and + make fidelity mark the raven's tongue. Oh you passionate fool + we know the broken mirror. Oh you rapturous being who makes + the fleet of evil dance around in decay. For tonight is the + time of carrion men. The lips of death claps but once upon + the mortal man so in love lies eternity. Come to gather straw + for the gods. This mental block shall show no road block. For + the time of love has become the moment of now. We can hold + bells and whistles and know truth but love is forsaken by the + immaculate and the witty. All round the angel's head with + common ground. + + rage + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho (soon) + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp003.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp003.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..423d6036 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp003.txt @@ -0,0 +1,179 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + "I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, + and you are not in this world to live up to mine. + You are you, and I am I..." - Frederick Perfs + + I was so young when I first read that. Always kept it in + the back of my mind. Don't know what made me remember + it this time, just that in editing a zine of any nature, + it is a wise lesson to be remembered. Poetry is a subjective + medium, one that has no real basis for determining value + or talent. Always keep this in mind when reviewing + works of poetry, for it helps keep perspective on the + overall experience. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Fluttering Ideas + + Ideas flutter through my mind, + as the conversation goes on around me. + I wonder many things, and wish nothing. + Noticing none of them, wonder, + why it is, that I am so quiet, today. + Probably better that way. + + Pictures of the way things use to be, + find their way to my line of vision, + I look through them, + trying to get to the end. + + Not wanting to remember most of them, + and wishing the others did not happen. + Then I find one, that I wish I could live again. + + Flipping from the pictures, + are memories that are found, + deep inside my mind. + I wonder why, things happened the way they did, + and ask myself "Who was it that I used to be?". + + Shaking my head, + I do not want all that pressure, again... + but, here I find myself, + so close to where I dropped the quarter. + + Wanting nothing else, + but a simple happiness, + knowing nothing else, + except hardship. + + Wishing nothing, wanting things, + needing only a few ... + I cannot help but wonder, + where I am now, + and where I will be tomorrow. + + Ideas flutter through my mind ... + + Kamira + + + + magnetic poetry ii. + + a woman is a gorgeous monster + of sweetest beauty + + a pink picture -- a delicious rose + her language is black poetry + + demonika + + + + Family Values + + Brian can't come out to play, + he got a nasty bruise today. + "Don't run in the house," I always say. + Ask again another day. + + Brian can't come out to play, + He really burned his hand today. + "Don't play with matches," I always say. + Ask again another day. + + Brian can't come out to play, + Because he broke his arm today. + "Don't horse around," I always say. + Ask again some other day. . . . + + Brian can't come out to play. + Because Brian . . . + Brian died today. + + legion + + + + cursory + + her eyes reached out to me + picked me up and spun me about + a cursory examination to size me up + + something's wrong, the eyes glaze over + her demeanor changes once again + the firm grasp over me tightens + drains my will before my strength + + dis 1996 + + + + confusion on the wings of despair + Ride comfortable into the night + like an old enchanting melody + Cradling the words against my ear + The wind on the lips like a touch + or perhaps a breath reminders that + i'm still alive. + + I dive mercilessly into the air, + finding comfort in the dark, + shading my eyes from the light + Veins throbbing with fright + Aching to explore uncharted + arrays of the sky but the + grasp still holds tight. + A bird trapped by five fingers + and two feet. + Struggling to to be free.... + and yet submissive to the familiar + clutch. Fighting fruitlessly , + squirming , yearning...but alas no avail + For night is my master, and i forever + its slave.... + + bluerose 11-03-97 + + + + do you remember the way the sun set upon your face like a pale rose. + or the song the angels sung as they kissed your cheek and made the + apparitions vanish into night. + the things that made you well, the things that cured your pain. + and the only thing that scares me is the truth. + and the only thing i've found is the truth. + what irrational thoughts have become my salvation. + and what irrational deeds have become my salvation. + the next time you hear a scream upon my watch, + shout to the gods "this thing you have made was not fit for life." + + rage + + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp004.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp004.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..c1851478 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp004.txt @@ -0,0 +1,204 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + in a word, poetry is celebration. of your thoughts, + of your emotions, of your life. or of nothing. sometimes + it is pure unmoderated venting while at times it is a + very efficient means for outburst. one piece can mean + everything to one, and nothing to the rest. odd, that + sometimes in those cases, it isn't the author that it + means something to. + + to keep writing in a field that will never be explained. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + fuck poetry + + poetry + defines who and what you feel + its content should be interpreted + by the reader and what + they + get + out + of + it. + not because of someone + else's say so. + + poetry is never + done + just right. + it + just + is. + + simunye 11-14-97 + + + + chosen paths + + I glance to the side. + There walks a man, + His smile tentative, unsure. + He trudges alongside me, + On this path we've shared + For what seems like + Forever. + The embodiment of stability, + Of steadfastness, + I meet his eyes, + Where I glimpse occasional + Understanding. + I grasp his hand, + So as to keep him in step with me. + I know this man, + The nurturing, the dependability, + The weaknesses, the doubts. + Comfort is his name. + I glance to the side. + There walks a boy, + A sensual smile, that come hither look + Of seduction gleaming. + He dances alongside me, + On a path all his own, + Hands reaching to entice, + Eyes daring, mocking, beckoning + Me to share his path but offering + No guarantees. + I reach for his hand, + So as not to lose sight + Of something so potentially precious. + I know this boy, + The sensuality, the desire. + Lust is his name. + I glance behind me, + Three sets of footsteps angling + Ever closer, + Sure, in time, to meet. + I glance ahead of me. + My vision blurs. + + krystalia + + + + when you look upon your rose bush and take a deep sigh + when you look across the mountains and rivers in your back yard + when you look through the face of the valley you say + my god + why is the world so beautiful + and + + when i wake up in an alley with trash cans piled on top of me + when i wake up with the view of my druggie friends one dead + when i wake up and look out onto the street i say + my god + why is the world so beautiful + + rage + + + + Delusions + + Looking around, and reaching upward, + I finally have found that I have been contained, + captured in a delusion. + + A delusion that you actually cared, + and that I mattered to you. + Delusions that I would be missed, + or wondered about at all. + + Looking around, and reaching upward, + I pull myself out and look about. + The sun is shining bright. + Funny, how I got used to such darkness. + + Now reaching out, I begin to realize, + that the days that are now a daze, + no longer matter, because, + The delusional walls, are coming down. + + A delusion that you actually wanted me, + or cared that I lived or died. + Friendship supposedly stronger, + that was a delusion that I believed, too. + + Pulling myself up, I am leaving you behind, + wishing things could have turned out non-delusional, + but, before I drown in a room of illusions, + I now walk out the door, knowing you never cared at all, or no more. + + Delusions now known, + the game is over, + and I am no longer a pawn to be tossed astray. + You have written me off, but now I write you out. + + Kamira September 7th, 1997 + + + + as i am + + quite simply + take me + as i am + make me not a + burgeoning butterfly + dressed up in mother's + theater gown + touch me not with + fingertips velvet + too shyly to meet + with fleshly notice + speak to me not with + words too light to + crush a sparrow wing + instead,merely + allow me to be me + loving you + + demonika + + + where there's a WILL... + + crime + + once, and you are lucky + twice - talented + the third time is charm + four times - a legend + five times? + fucking invulnerable. + or not. you're just a gambler's dream + + dis. (dedication to sensai voyager) + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp005.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp005.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a7e929ed --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp005.txt @@ -0,0 +1,208 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + sometimes it is very hard to be objective as an editor. + to read something and disagree with it, only to think + that one should be fair on submissions. or do i say + "my zine" and judge based on what i like? + + this release finds me making that decision. those who know + me will read through and quickly understand why i say + these words. let it be known, that i am trying to be + fair and just. for now... + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + the devil herself + + i am not a manic-depressive + or a diabetic + or cancerous, hell + i don't even get colds much + + maybe i'm lucky + maybe it's because i don't + lick my fingers before counting my money + + so + + once upon a time there was this bitch, right? + and she was raped once or twice + and she thought she knew exactly what was wrong with everything + and she thought she knew the solutions to everything + and she decided, snatch-loose and meat-drunk, + to write some songs about it + + and all the girls related to her + and all the girls cried for her + and all the girls made mix-tapes of her + and gave them to their shallow boyfriends + + and she called herself tori amos + but all the boys knew she was really the fucking devil + or else why would she whine and bitch + about jesus all the time? + + she's not a manic depressive + or a diabetic + or cancerous, hell + she pretends she's been there + + maybe she could + stop telling everybody about it + like any good patient would + + styx - the fedz@rad.edu + + + + the day feel upon me with heat + the smell of sweat filled my lungs + the bright light bounced off every window only to reflect into my eyes + the streets were busy with people walking about + the cars had horns that barked the world aloud + + i began to go mad + + this is torture in itself + this is why i long for winter to fill my heart + this is why i give all my attention to the kindness of the night + this is why i wait for all the people to fade away + this is the time worth dying over + + i began to go mad + + and so i drank the dark + and i felt the cold of madness fill my mind + and i became hard as my blood began to freeze like water + and the world began to fade away + and my life turned to joy + + so i toasted, and then drank another + + rage + + + + mishappinessery + + i feel your love + but it's not love + it's hate + i feel your love + but it's not love + it's fists + i've seen your love + for i have the blackeyes + to prove it + i've known your love + the damned baby + within me + proves it + + abused and broken love + beatings unspoken of + + you say + i love you too + fuck you + + lohateve + + Nightshade + + + + samurai + + dull flicker, the room dances with life; + whisper of trance pours from the speakers + bowing head, warrior prepares for strife + + so much time crashes by; + its the longest minutes of his life + and his duty begs him to cry + + as he wishes he was dead + silent warrior kneels among the bodies + while the field runs red + + dis + + + + bbang + + they all whisper goodbye, + inconstancy eternal + a soft wave - a star blinking + out in an inner universe + (the thread breaks) + and the nothingness is + greater than the pre-time + void known only as + + The Beginning + + suddenly, a personal piece is + vacant + unnatural, a missing + hand on a tick-tock, + leaving a winter bleak + soul behind to nurse + its wounds, and arm + itself for the next battle + + demonika + + + + A Cry + + A Cry ... + In the dark, + For the secrets that are still yet to be revealed. + For the loses of the past. + + In the daylight, + only this heart may shine, + for the nights hold the shadows of the past, + too close at hand. + + Shimmering moonlight, + tears roll down, + as I reach for no one that is there. + + Having lost, what I once had, + and counted on, + only because, I trusted ... + + A Cry ... + will not be heard, + for those that have betrayed ... + Nor, will A Cry be felt, + for the loss of this one. + + Kamira + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp006.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp006.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..90640cb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp006.txt @@ -0,0 +1,156 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + variation of style and form set poetry aside from all + other forms of writing. the freedom you have, the total + disregard of 'rules', and the careless nature of + expression are the poet's best friend. + + use them as a powerful tool, an excuse to have fun, or + anything else. just express your desire in words, else + a lot could be lost. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + The Red Hand + + The Red Hand flares before my face + Not clenched in anger, + Not extended in supplication, + But cupped to hold the warmth, + Fingers together + As if to caress my soul. + Etched in black marble, + It wards off the suffocating winds, + Nurturing a slow, easeful death. + All roads lead to the same end; + Conservation of mortality still holds. + 'Tis death on installment, + Another cigarette in the dark. + + Screamin' Lord Byron 3:30 AM, a long time ago + + + + I Stand in The Darkness + + I stand in the darkness of my thoughts + An illusion my mind creates + I begin to walk through a storm + Needles of rain beat my cold pale face + Clothes drenched and saturated by + The uncontrollable pressures + From a blind uncaring world + Making way, no path, directionless + I find an old man, worn and ragged by the years + Sitting on a cold stone + At the edge of a crystal lake + Surface rippled by downpour + I am with him, emotionless + For what seemed like eternity + Where time did not exist + His wrinkled fragile hands grasp tightly + Around a short decaying pole + Waiting for a fish, without bait + His hook is dull and bare + I sit down looking into his eyes + Seeing only myself + Coming to the realization + That he can offer me no guidance + + Trix + + + + magnetic poetry III + + .wet lip rot thing never bellows about morning + .women always smile icy + .woman is a dark poison + .a feline who can dazzle + .haunt naked red bone + .explore steel questions as peace kills + .more blind waking crap + .concrete never listens + .live those wild pictures that linger in brilliant glass + .marble girl blue with openness + .blushing & trusting + .sad cloud fools clean cut velvet + .embrace the secret universe + .young worry slowly decays + .must bleed smoke soon + .almost prisoner + .we will have deep sex with a ferocious rhythm + .sacrifice change + .delicious eternity + .burn over fire + + (various guests of dis) + + + + her fragrance filled the air + then my mind began to go + + we had such good times in the past + we had such memorable moments + + what happened to all the good times + what happened to all the madness + + she could make my soul crawl + she could make my eyes water + + her fragrance left the room + then my mind began to go + + that's how it happened last time + + rage + + + + map of my night + +more eclectic, eccentric, out of touch another kernel compile, more mail +A all meaning lost to all 2.0.55 bombed shortly after 2.0.31 +small slice except me another man page, another util now +of my random thoughts I known. continued wonder of lamers +and the strange day that i keep having with power they cannot comprehend. + + +several calls freestyle a blessing the apocalypse looms around us all +throughout the for without form the calling out for the world of souls +night, present mind can wonder mean next day, next year, next whatever +company in one thought down the new more childish fear or maybe a tool +form, comfort trail, chaos of mind for lemming mass control. i bet it +of friendship. a simple expression. is the latter. just one faithless. + + +cascading flame the warmth 1:52 and disarray is sleep comes for us all +red and blue dance around. all there is. vague maybe some music so he +mesmerizes poets young kid glimpse of something can relax, let broken +enthralls taunts and tease to come. yesteryear. dreams take his pains. + + dis + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp007.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp007.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3d8d68f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp007.txt @@ -0,0 +1,207 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + some of the best poetry is about those deep & penetrating + emotions, just primal enough to allow poets & philosphers + to wax intellectual about them. love, rage, hate, fear, + sadness... all of these things are what make us human, + all of these things are what make us poets. sometimes + there is nothing better than a few moments alone with + a line or two, written just for you, 200 years ago. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + The Writers Poem + + Clean white paper, + staring into the void + + Neatly ruled lines, + judging every written word + + Deadline rushing nearer, + threatening to overtake + + Pen touching down on paper, + bleeding my soul as the ink + + All to you the reader, + keeper of the dream + + voyager + + + + antithesis + + between us + a taut unsharing exists + smoked air hazes our + understanding + vague words stretch + our love not strong + enough + to survive + the mutual unseeing + of wide spectrum + philosophies + containing + too many shades of grey + and not a single + solid + line + over which our hands + might + touch + the chasm is too wide + for crossing + + demonika + + + + mp5 + + single repeat can't touch + overwhelming adrenaline + prepare, and it still pulls + one second down + + thought trails to meme + only on tv, hands of control + high risk raid, self defense + two seconds down + + magazine empty + pause to admire killing technique + fresh circle of pinpoints + silence returns + + dis + + + + rage + + Rage deep within me, + rising up from years ago. + Memories of fleeing, + and having fun. + I wish to reach for that time again, + Picking up the source, I look around, + dropping it to the ground. + + What once was, and is no longer ... + Hatred for all of those ones, + from years ago, + pureness in expression, + and clear of intent. + Now reaching over, I picture them, + as I pull the trigger. + + Smashing them to pieces, + shattering the pictures of the ghosts, + that I wish never were ... + I fall to the ground, + to only find that there is no end. + + Rage deep inside of me, + burrowing deeper and deeper, + until one of these years, + I will just all out explode, + and will never be pieced back together, again. + + For, only one can deal so much, + as rage builds up in all of me. + Violent scenes, past glimpses, + I shudder to have to even thought of them, + Closing my eyes, one more time, + I take a deep breath, + to never arise. + + Me, Myself, and I. October 21st, 1997. + + + + half-mast + + (or; ripping off bukowski again) + + i am writing this poem with a black pen at work + it is an expensive pen and the ink comes out smoothly + this is being written on college-ruled loose-leaf paper + it is friday, august 1st, 1997 + it is 5:32p.m. + there are three cars in the station + now there are two + + across the street is the municipal complex + there is a library, a police station, and a firehouse + there is a U.S. flag waving in front of it + it is at half-mast + that is where i got the title for this poem + + the flag is at half-mast because a fireman died in his sleep last friday + he was 47 years old and his name was ronald hartranft + i never met him but i think his wife was a monster + i never met her either + + he did not burn to death saving lives like he should have + instead, last friday, his wife looked at him and he looked at her + and he turned around, climbed the stairs, and went to bed + i don't blame him + + nor do i blame us + laying in bed instead of saving ourselves + glancing at the clock between cigarettes + laughing at it + with our hands at our throats + hoping the other would finish it off + and then.. + release + + you get up to go + gather your things + pause by the stairs + turn around and + you look at me and i look at you + and i wave my hand at half-mast + you smile + wave back + turn again + climb down the stairs + and leave + + and i roll over + give my salute + and go to + sleep + fighting the fire that took hartranft last friday + + he was 47 and his wife + was a monster + + styx - thefedz@rad.edu + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp008.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp008.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2135aa42 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp008.txt @@ -0,0 +1,205 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Today is the fifth anniversary of the zine. The poetry + side has been around for a couple months now. I curse + myself.. why did I wait so long to start this? Freedom + of expression in any form was one of the goals, and I + managed to overlook this form. It is remedied now. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Flippant! + + This quiet night, + wind parting summer's slumbered loneliness. + Shadows of light, + simple is the sorrow of days once had. + + Laughing nor crying, taste salty bitterness; + sadness employs this heart of a madman. + Does this, then that, question reality today; + aggressing the fortune of history, of tales untrue! + + Does develop this division; + forces sacrifice and delusion! + Clearest path - thou holiest markedness now jagged, + found still, mind's pounding. + + Greet sorrow with freedom; + stay severed, simple comfort. + Be proud like lion, non resolving; + into my heart - this mind, non resolving. + + Of days which darkness severs the temptress, + of closeness forbidding and evils enduring. + Does shadows remove with time, take comfort; + neither him nor thou may stake such preference. + + Has this portrait faded, or been tainted, + by time; for true enemies does create, + or the love once binding now unfounded, + dissolve as time does work upon colours. + + Quick encounters, liquid eyes - tears inducing. + For fear, for heart, for LOVE! + make conversation, severed temptress + shadows removed are until then not coming. + + Myself excused, but time does not; + this slow stabbing takes from me my life! + Exhausting, everlasting tournament; + desperate days turn to memories faded. + + Quick is the path of diversion; + hearts parting and memories diluting. + Awaiting unreality, in reality awaiting perfection. + Seems in another lifetime exists our togetherness. + + Retrieve from me my blood, + which upon my sleeve does stain. + And bring forward to me my love, + Pour la peur, pour le coeur, pour l'AMOUR! + + Dodger Finished 13.12.97 + + + + KEYBOARD LOVERS + + "Hey" a voice called out one night + while the moon was dark and the + stars had nearly disappeared, + "Ya gonna stand all night long?" + "Or ya gonna say something back?" + it sneered and then began to laugh. + And later, the voice began a song, + hidden there among the night and lit + up by the lights only he could see. + And the song was oh so familiar + and the words all seems so real + and yet I'd heard them not before + and yet I wasn't sure. + "And now I have a lover" + started out the song, + and now I am alone. + And now I have keyboard + that sends no songs aloud. + But the world stands outside + my door and pays to hear + the silence and applauds afterwards. + And so by their one-hand claps + I must be successful + and I guess I guess I am + cause I have a lover and + a keyboard. + + And later the song sung + so long ago came back + to haunt me just a little more. + Sitting there within + the safety of the crowd + and listening to the screams + that came from high above, + the words had a kind of + surrealism that hid away + the hurt and the anger + of the song. + "Don't dream it! + Be it!!" he cried + and we all applauded + at the wisdom of his words. + And at that he finally + turned away, in despair + and in confusion. + And as the crowd found + their way from the stage, + only a dimly heard voice + could be heard crying. + + Looking back upon that night + and wondering 'bout the song, + it seemed so very real to me + and oh so very good. + But the audience didn't + want to hear and none + of us were all + we might have been. + We listened to the words + he sang and mixed it with + a drink of gin... + But still the song has + stayed with me + and oft times plays + at night. + What ever happened to + that man? And why + did we not care + about his words? + Or did we, without + listening, sing a + soft refrain and + never heard the song? + So the future then + is now the past + and he is gone somewhere + not here. + And yet I still remain, + second row, left, + listening to the song + of life and love + and pain and never + wanting to go home + to the keyboard that + doesn't sing and the + lover that isn't and + reality. + + - FTF + + + + FINGERTIP CHORDS + + feelings fill the throat + to try to form words + but after being trounced + by the larynx mafia + they shoot out fingertips + + - Indiana Poet Dec. 27, 1997 + + + + 748.2153 + + seven days a week, we were one + four eyes saw the purity between + eight months we shared our souls + two times a day, we shared our bodies + one bad night to bring it down + five cuts remembering the pain + three years to rid myself of your memory + + dis + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp009.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp009.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e1dee197 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp009.txt @@ -0,0 +1,194 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + There are so many forms of expression, and this is Poetry's + Venture. Venturing through the glimpses of the mind, heart, + or spirit of the one that is writing, only to show a glimmer + of something, or someone. Ways to express the things that + may be oridinary that they see through an unordinary prespective, + or maybe it's just the reality? A venture through a glimpse that + is a glimmer of something, or someone ... to expand the vast + plain that we find a place to call our own - the Venture + of Poetry. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Linda... + + Linda, lovely lady + with long dark braids + and flashing eyes. + + Working for a question mark + in a grimy little dive, + pushing beer and hugging + drunks and wondering... + + Wondering why the one she + loves doesn't and what happened + in the years just past to change + the place she thought + she knew. + + And other thoughts exist there too.. + + Lovely Linda, old at 30 and + getting older. Feeling + helpless in a life + of lifelessness + and seeking death + to find her life. + + Nights upon the bar room + floor when the moon is + dark and the beer moves + quickly. + + And Linda thinks back + to last week or sometimes + when its really bad to late + last year when life was calm + and pouring beer was just a way + to make a buck. + + But now the drunks have said + too much and stayed too long + and anyway, there ain't nothing + much worth going home for anyway + so why not stay open just a bit longer + and listen just a while more. + + And who knows, one night it might + come true and a prince will + claim her for his own. + + But the evening passes and + the beer stops flowing and + soon its time to call last call + and see just who has stayed. + + Lovely Linda, seeking life + and love and finding pain. + She of the multitude and + yet alone. + + FTF + + + + Untitled and Unfinished + + The echo of a thousand voices + Thunders in our heads + As the melodies there engendered + Whispers of the fathomless mystery of the soul, + Piercing us with these same passions + That characterize our essence. + We are the instruments. Our souls, + The symphony of our desire. + Like petals on the summer breeze, + By this desperate cry we are animated, + A marionette on astral strings + As the bright moon wanes. + Slipping into the darkling distance, + It crystallizes into a single plaintive song + Dimly wailing its message: + We will die soon, you and I, + And join the voices on the other side. + + Screamin' Lord Byron + + + + the silk black finger caressed the mesh of gold. + the silver lining seemed far too green too far away. + this blue night casts a red shadow on your brown door frame. + and the woodwork finished with a tin of lead came from the yellow man + sitting on top of the purple haze. + never again will i buy such orange flavors from a man with only one + tan hand. + never again will the white streaming milk flow around his pink + insides. + + rage + + + + an example of a bad poem + + would be that one by robert frost + about the boys swinging + on birch trees the one + that is so long + + i know that it is supposed to evoke + EMOTION and that i am supposed to + LEARN something from it but instead i am + + sitting here with a mug of + luke-warm chocolate + writing this + anticipating the new wrestling show tonight + picking my nose + hoping my package from that gaming store + arrives in the mail today + and not thinking much of anything else + except that robert frost + sucks the methane clear out of my + fucking rectum + which is maybe enough emotion + and learning from one poem that + i can take + + mr. frost has finally done + something right for a change + and he didn't + even + mean it + + styx thefedz@rad.edu + + + + No Particular Order + + unknown likeness in the distance + mutual spirit close to heart + never ending friendly surprise + daily routine repressed the spark + + curiosity, maybe even destiny? + always meant to be, in one form or another + one with true concern + silently provoking, such a tease + + never met, already known + content with eternal comfort + to find the solace of you + kindred hate if nothing else + + four. that mean something to me. + + dis + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp010.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp010.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bbce4392 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp010.txt @@ -0,0 +1,130 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + let me tell you a quick story. last week, burned out and + overworked, i collapsed in my bathroom. the doctor said + it was exhaustion. so i called in sick, turned off all of + my monitors, and spent 3 days reading. literally. i never + left except to eat and drink. words can save your soul. so + turn off your computer and read something that is printed + on dead trees. your mind and body will thank you for it. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + To come back to the one, + What a loving thought. + To erase human error, + In which we have fought. + To reach enlightenment, + While on this earthly plane. + To find peace in a world, + That seems so insane. + To walk by an ocean, + And feel my soul take flight. + To look into your eyes, + And see tha shining light. + This is my prayer; + That all hearts would feel... + The love of the divine, + That is so real. + + sadia + + + + ORGANIC EMOTION + + moods sift through a sieve + to extract the seedy pulp + allowing naked feelings + to explain their genitalia + + Indiana Poet Dec. 27, 1997 + + + + Someone's Watching Over Me + + Someone's watching over me, + for it was said, if I would take a step, + in this colony, I never would breathe again. + + Looking out over the cars, + that line the streets like ants, + I know someone must be, + watching over me. + + Walking along, a pebble rolls ahead, + just as I was told my head would, + if I were to ever attempt + to walk this line. + + Breathing in and breathing out, + I wonder if someone is copying my every move, + or is it I am just lucky enough, + to have someone watching over me? + + Kamira + + + + Hypocrite! + + All poetry sucks. No talent, eccentric + fucks. + subjective creativity is not art + and does not hold meaning. + + Anyone can scribble, we can all force + rhymes. + + So what makes 'good' poetry. If + YOU like it. Nothing else. Like + beauty + it is in the eye + of the beholder. Simple + as that as my + pen runs dry. + + Damn. + + + + i've been lashing in the dark + just to feel your broken heart + and my mind goes racing down + and the tears touch to my frown + i have not heard you say my name + for life is all a game + + won't you come out side with me + we will find the abandoned tree + here we sit inside the day + just waiting for the rain + then the night comes out again + for this is now our end + + rage + + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp011.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp011.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..da81bf29 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp011.txt @@ -0,0 +1,175 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + why do others swoon over poetry? without reading it.. + just knowing that you write it, something drives them + to want to look into your soul. your cries that it + is private, lost on their unwilling ears. + + sometimes romantic, sometimes sick, sometimes everything + else. the one thing it always is, is a true piece of + what you are. no wonder they want to read it. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + To Someone + + You have built up someone you wish to be.. + and someone you pretend to be.. + you even tell yourself you are that way, even though you are not ... + who you wish yourself to be. + + Someone who hurts others before they can hurt you. + Someone no one can fall in real love with, + so you never have to have heartache, again. + Wishing yourself to be someone who is hate-filled. + Inside a battle between good and bad, right and wrong rage on. + Not wanting to feel the good, so the bad does not seem bad. + Doing whats wrong, in hopes of destroying what is right ... + just like what was so right once destroyed a part of you. + + I do not apologize for how you have become.. + however I do apologize for how I dealt with you.. + Even back then though that battle was beginning to rage. + A battle which, if I would have stayed - I would never have survived. + + It is to the someone I once saw in you.. + I beg that you let your heart's light shine. + And, it is to the someone who is today, that I hope never stays. + + Anonymous + + + + To You + + Sitting down, I begin to read, + soaking in the words, + my very blood begins to boil. + + Once you were not a coward, + you had a heart, + do not deny, because I know. + For shared them with me. + + Cares, concerns, loves, likes, + instead of empty words and that are lies. + Lies of which you spin ... + Living a life that even you hate. + + Eyes that held care, + a touch which warmed me. + Now hollows and sends chills + to everything you touch. + + Young and niave, + wanting more than + what either oneof could give, a mistake. + Which changed you and I forever. + + Part is by my doing, + part is your belief. + Having hurt one another + deeper than a boardsword ever could. + + Somewhere the you I once knew + must reside ... + will he always hide? + + Look up, stop dragging yourself down, + and realize you too could soar on + happinesses wings. + Be real instead of this one you built, + which you figure can never be hurt. + + With your creation, you are now + a shell of what you wish + would never feel, again. + + In reality you are murdering yourself. + And scared to feel, + you are scared to live. + + Kamira October 28, 1997 + + + + SURVEYING THE GIRL GRIDDLE + + it seems my house + is tilting south; + my two pancakes + bump into each other in the pan + like two heaping spoonful breasts + gently caressed by buttery hands - + I would love to taste the sweet syrup + between her fluffy thighs; + it is true - my house + is sinking south. + + Indiana Poet Jan. 2, 1998 + + + + regarding religion + + sinner mocks god in his sleep + emotional turmoil is sinner's drug + silly christian, don't you know not to fight? + i crucified your god in my dreams last night. + + dis + + + + i don't know when the depression started + i don't know when i went insane + + all i remember is some girl standing on a road + some place + i cannot recall + all i remember is the way she wore a look of + dissatisfaction + across her beautiful face when she saw my + gaze. + + + i didn't know her heart + i didn't know her desires + i didn't know her wants + i didn't know her needs + i didn't know her life,past,dreams + + all i knew was me and my heart + for it was the only thing that could speak to me. + + i looked down upon her expression + with a feel of sadness, maybe that + is when it started, maybe it was + the day she told me to go away + without opening her mouth + + rage + + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp012.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp012.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..a44c28b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp012.txt @@ -0,0 +1,298 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + "It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die + miserably every day for lack of what is found there." + + - William Carlos Williams + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + ode zu allen Frauen, die ich habe, liebte + jene Frauen haben nie meine Liebe zurUckgebracht + + i stood like a cold statue + glaring out across the field of snow + i could feel the heat of my pounding heart + warming my body in the sub zero temperature + i could feel the anticipation of the moment + i could feel the desire + i could feel love + and longing + + there is so much i want to do + so much to say + so much to experience + + but i stood like patience on a monument + unmoving as my desires built like a fiery storm within me + + i so wanted to run into the snow + like the child i once was + and be marry in my ways + when i knew nothing of this torture called love + i wanted to explode with energy + sprout my wings and fly the skies + as fast and furious as mortally possible + i wanted to escape with loud music + pounding against my ears + i wanted to drink from the burning fuel + i wanted to eat the madness + + but i stood there + shaking in my silence + letting the cold air pound against my chest + + i began to breath heavily + i began to erupt with passion inside myself + i could not stand to stand any longer + if i did not act upon my emotions + i would surely die + of the one thing i have never truly had + + my legs twitched + i could feel it coming + the moment i have lived for + was this it + is this the time worth living for + is this what i have come so far for + + allowing no more control of my body + i began to run + i ran through the field of snow like a bull in the run + i ran with passion as fire leapt out from behind me + i ran with desire as the angels came up to watch + i ran until the final moment fell upon me + + i leapt into the air and tried to fly + to escape + and reality crashed down around me + as i feel hard to the ground + and i cracked the earth with that motion + + as i laid there + i could feel the realization of why i have never achieved my goal + ... + i have never tried hard enough + ... + i never made that final action to obtain it + i never tried long enough + i never tried at all + + one of the angels stood over my broken form + he unleashed his understanding against me + and then he unleashed pain + + his elements struck hard against my skin + they tore their way into my chest + he looked down at my boiling heart + and began to reach for it + + he didn't expect what i had for him + no one expects what i have for them + they never do + + as his hand met my heart + an explosion occurred + he was thrown back + and all the other angels turned away + as the light blinded them + + i stood up and walked over to the fallen angel + i stared hard upon his smoldering body + i looked at his burning wings + and i looked into his face + and he was crying + + i closed my chest + put back on my dusty black coat + and with an expression of distinct void + i walked away + and they let me go + + to this i wondered of myself + if my love is strong enough to make the angels cry + why isn't it strong enough for the mortals + why am i so cold + why am i so hard + is my love unmatched in this existence + or have i just not found it's return yet + + alas + i am all out of tears + and have no where else to go + so i shall stand here + looking out across the field of snow + remembering the one time i acted upon my emotions + the one time i let passion rule my mind + + i will see you again soon + and when you look into my eyes + past my soul + and into my heart + will you see a picture of yourself + hanging in my torture chamber + the only place left that lets me feel + + - rage-303 + + + + TEMPO FOR TEARS (IN STEREO) + + i think this will change my foot-groove view - + fear surprised my by tapping my shoulder + too many times in this ballroom decade; + an experience to photograph for my children - + to dance across new horizons and bridges + with success leaning into my upbeat body. + + flesh covers my body, but I cannot sing - + radio stations tucked me into bed each night + while cold shivers forsake my physical needs; + another emotional melody to sway with - + rhythm in my words destroyed by shy situations + in attempts to waltz away from solo pain. + + nothing too fast for this awkward dreamer - + stars point for my feet to settle onto the ground + instead of trying to fly from rejection faces; + there are goddesses and mermaids calling - + arrangements must not be scripted or recorded, + but i cannot improvise dreams for public performance. + + Indiana Poet Jan. 7, 1998 + + + + LIFE + + Shedders naive where the building + Clothes dresses up on heart + Draws the picture of his future + Keeps the paper close at hand + + Back system into a suitcase + Suffers terror on a train + And he wants to start some movement + Cause he's indestructible + + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Destructable + Cause he's in + + And you know they'll have appointments + And they'll live us alone + And if we just keep on talking + Then we'll stare make its own + + There's commotion and promotions + Now they dunk it anymore + Selling pictures to a paper + Now that everyone must know + + Trading satelites for substance + Let spectators pave the way + We'll invade the travy fountain + Now that everyone must pay + + Trading satelites for substance + Let spectators pave the way + We'll invade the travy fountain + Now that everyone must pay + + Mama's babies + Mothers, tragedy + Babies, mothers, tragedy + Babies, mothers, tragedy + + Terrifies again......... + + If you can understand the song you get the message + + - satanhell + + + + King of Wishful Thinking + + Wishing what was said, was real + Planning ahead for what you do not know, + and reaching for things you think you want. + + Wishing on stars, out of sight, + for things that are or never were, + you find yourself King. + + Trying to find that one, + not to ever seal with a kiss, + but to just touch and feel. + + Wishing on stars, out of sight, + if only you knew what I held this night. + For then things would be different, + and you would find yourself a happy King. + + Instead you are a King with no Queen. + And, the truth should never be seen. + For the stars outshine the dim light, + that you wish upon this very night. + + Things so sacred, you would never - + yet, you still find yourself wishing. + Only to be a King of Wishful Thinking. + + -Kamira January 18th, 1998 + First poem of the year. kami@sekurity.org + + + + Erotica (or dedication to Shane) + + Sheltered innocence is sexual appeal + emotional turmoil an unfounded desire + twisted soul, scarred psyche, raging conflict... + + desire to share pain, desire to be the + missing element. desire + + Is it comprehension of pain? + empathy of internal struggle? + or lacking in oneself, and need for pain from another? + Doesn't matter. Come mind fuck me. + Please? + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp013.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp013.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bd6df0c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp013.txt @@ -0,0 +1,185 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Good poetry, as opposed to bad or mediocre poetry, speaks + with a quality of universality. A poem tells a story or + describes a scene that anyone can translate into a meaning + of their own. There is no right or wrong way to read or + write a poem, but what you get out of it as a writer or a + reader depends on what you put into it. Poetry gets a bad + rap because many "real writers" imagine that short works + simply don't take as much effort to write as a novel or + magazine article does. I disagree. A poet can put into 20 + lines what a writer might need 100 lines of prose to convey. + So write and read, and have fun with it. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + May I Have This Dance? + + Two souls collide. + Surprised, + They stand startled. + Mirror images, + Each reaches out. + Hesitation reigns. + Slowly they begin their dance + of exploration. + Formal at first, + Yet even from the beginning + In perfect time. + They step closer, + Ever closer. + Perfect partners + In this dance + Of life and being. + Dancing on through the night, + Melding, + Each hoping + The music never stops. + + -krystalia 02/98 + + + + GOODNIGHT AMERICAN YOUTH + + Goodnight American youth: + maybe you will dream fresh methods + to keep non-consensus adversity bleeding + instead of feeding your mind with lies; + your truth does not rest in these - + music, image, grades or popularity. + + Goodnight American youth: + maybe you will dream about someone + who is special in your life ... make love + merely with your clothes on while + staying clean from alcohol and drugs - + responsibility isn't a disease; it's the cure. + + Goodnight American youth: + maybe you will dream about yourself + and where your position in the human race + might be ... knowing you start in the middle, + trapped between security and insecurity - + you want to be alone; you need to be loved. + + Indiana Poet Jan. 5, 1998 + + + + Poetry in Action + + Life is poetry in action. + The poet conceives his artistry + In the fancy of a mind feverish and frenzied, + And finds, upon putting ink to fibers, + That conceit is altered by the form: + Language, meter, rhyme, + And thought pattern. + + Words enscribed take on an aspect + Entirely alien to the proposed plan. + Hopes, goals, and desire are tossed overboard, + As the poet, anchored in despair, + 'Tempts to save or salvage + His flound'ring poesy, + Or at least move it safely + To the next port. + + He tacks and jibes, + Heels and runs, + Trying to set the conceived course aright. + + Life and poetry take on lives of their own. + The poet stands aghast at the monstrosity he has created, + Now unable to restrain or even check + This beastly constrivance. + + Then he goes down on some unknown shoal, + Unable even to recognize this foreign creation + That has been this life, this poem. + + Screamin' Lord Byron + + + + the need to feel + + Curious insomnia keeping me from rest + lyrical poems pour forth from another room + + verbal bondage. strong baseline. precarious angel. + descend you godless bitch. take me now. + wrap me in your wings and lift me from + this mortality. Take me to your master. + When it is over I will remove the hndcuffs + and blindfold, before cleaning the fresh + whip marks. + Your job is done angel. + + Truth or dare. Shut up and lie. + + 12-18-97 + + + + Race with No Face + + I've lost my ability to see my hand in front of my face, + since I realized that that was then and this is now, + what was, was and is no longer. + I can't seem to even be able to see my hand in front of my face. + + This crazy world, everyone has their pace, + and it seems that they are all in some sort of race, + where I sit back and I laugh now, + because I have no place to go and run to be the first. + + Maybe this is what writer's block is all about, + or maybe this is what happens when I let + my heart tell me what I'm all about. + I've lost my ability to see my hand infront of my face. + + Walking down the seamless, dark hallway, + I wonder if I could just fall and never land. + Fall away from this place, and have the bottom of my heart, fall out. + That would be so nice, because they needn't worry about not seeing my + hand infront of my face. + + I close my eyes, only to see traces of yesterdays, + turning over only to feel the pain of what once was, + I look up to the sky, and cry out loud + "I've lost my ability to see my hand infront of my face!" + + Someone is trying to sweep me off my feet, + or is that I just see what I want to see? + I still can't see my hand infront of my face. + Wondering what will become of this life long race. + + I've lost my ability to see my hand infront of my face. + + -Kamira February 6, 1998 + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp014.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp014.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..64fb8dc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp014.txt @@ -0,0 +1,240 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + simple diversity will do amazing things. reading five + different poems, in five styles, by five different + people will make you challenge what defines poetry. + does it have any bounds? Or maybe we should ask, do + we want it to have any bounds? + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + VENOM + + Empty like a cloudless sky + Darker then a starless night + Forgotten like old memories + Yet still glittering, slithering + a diamond serpent + Enchanting with her beauty + look + but do not dare + to touch + the coldness in her + emerald stare + She slides in delivering a kiss + her taste more potent then the sweetest sin + wrapped up in her essence + overpowered by her presence + She lets lose her bite + releasing your desire + igniting your fire + she remains unmoved + a mass of burning ice + stinging cold + against your skin + feeling the droplets + roll right in + grasping in the darkness + searching for an empty place + you hear her voice ringing in your ear + Venom she whispered as she wiped away + a tear. + + Bluerose + + + + RESOLVE: HOW TO ACCENTUATE TRUTH + + fleshing and exposed, i am not a television advertisement; + another commodity to have people believe in - + selling me for half of what I could probably be worth. + + inner groove and mixed, I am not a stereo-enhanced radio song; + (please, no videos or extravagant media ploys for me) + another record producer to promote my image - + whatever the latest craze dictates. + + reissued, reboxed, revised, remixed and rerun - + I am not a re-occurring fad for some fashion trend; + style has gone out-of-style for my dollar's worth. + + preaching and divine, I am not a religious conscious; + always confusing proverbs with adverbs and adjectives - + hoping one day people will not need God to save them. + + designed and delivered, I am not your morning newspaper; + but when you dissect this commonwealth, words tends to digest - + sad to think that common sense is running a fever + and wants to allow stupidity to decide my standard of freedom. + + Indiana Poet Jan. 1, 1998 + + + + Fire Within + + - to the trees + + Looking up, and seeing your beauty, + I wish to embrace you, + though know I shall not. + + Disturbing your last days of peace, + is not what I wish to do, + though how I wish things would be different. + + - realization + + Watching, what I see in the future, + ignites a fire deep within me, + of hatred, and understanding + of a new kind of life. + + Now fully realizing what it once was, + that I had turned on, + I really wonder if I would be better off... + + - to grandpa + + Grandpa, why can they not, just go some other way? + Why must people insist on the easiest method? + Don't they see the beauty you showed me? + + A Fire Within me burns, + of the ones that had been taken before, + the ones that will be taken today, + and the ones that will go tomorrow. + + - my feeling + + Wishing a Fireball, to attack and change, + can you honestly not retreat and think? + + A fire within me, + I do not wish to see thee die. + Please help them and I, + to see eye to eye. + + - Kamira + + + + when i'm god + + i went to god... just to see. + i found out it was always me. + found out heaven and hell were lies. + + when i'm god... tha mystery dies. + to many times they tried to blind my sightful eyes. + its no surprise... seeing how the enterprise... + lies... in my...eyes. + hows and whys? + falls and flies... down and rise. + check tha time... its a quarter past nine... + i've got five...until i die. + + i shut my eyez tight... fall asleep and awake a new life. + they force fed me... hard they tried... + but i found no truth in those lies... i'm too wise. + + u cant serve a dream... a dream serves u... + unless u'r dream is true... and here are a couple clues.... + + if u cant see it + - u cant touch it + - if u cant touch it + - dont trust it + - if u dont trust it + - get disgusted and say F.U.C.K. it!! + + sadia + + + + The Side Show Freak + + I. A prodigious wonder, sir! + A marvelous contrivance, madam! + Born of pumice and slate, + Transformed by Ovid + And foretold by Cassandra, + See me and tremble! + + II. A bittersweet melody, + But - who knew!?! + Mozart knew. . . + And died. . . + The peaks and depths + And quite plains, + Unmolested and untold; + Counterpoint and divinity; + Swell and sink and a hint + Of knowledge unforeseen, + Yet fiercely guarded! + See me and quake! + + III. One in a millennium, + But one of a millennium. + To be envied? + To be emulated? + See me and shake! + + IV. The end of this tunnel + Lies in dust + Where for a thousand years. . . + An alabaster face stalks + The sepulcher of life. + And brute Achilles, traitor! + Accident of bee's diligence, + And farther from life + Than even death. . . + But the dust. . . The dust, + Akin to none, knows. + Kalypso still weeps, + But none hear. + Not even me. + For I, encased in stone, + Hear only my own screams. + See me and shake your head. + + Screamin'Lord Byron + + + + White Anger + + You are the winter of my life. + Cold and grey you make me seek warmth. + No hope of compassion or caring. + Silently you tear my hear out. + The hope of spring rain gone. + Summer heat a long lost fantasy... + Fall, a teaser to the pain you sing. + My physical reaction to your material being + it's a parallel to the hell you bring. + Please.. let me flee... + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp015.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp015.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..94f2e997 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp015.txt @@ -0,0 +1,191 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + the end is here + no, it is not near + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + HOLIBLAZE + + illuminating highway somewhere near Emblazon City + glowing cigarette butts + waltz across the deadened tar + refracted like a firefly in my passenger seat + windshield + spiraling down to the falls + to watch the christening lights, shackled + around a manger, from fallen heights + while waiting for a spark to enlighten me + to + jump + into + depths + where I could be a glow-worm bait + for some lonely fisherman whose wife + died in a house fire from an electrical short + during Christmas 1985 + + Indiana Poet Dec. 27, 1997 + + + + Mystically altered stayfree atmosphered, + deceptional deity your aura is seen free, + lifted by spirit, classified as hear it, + nouveau novae ecliptic for say, + hello invisible shadily Sade, + majestic queen sure say celestial, + diva per se exciter sure fire, + why do I agaze your presence so, + exotica fluorescent elixir of bliss, + chiming crescendo moonlight kiss, + magical you are shining afar, + you are my life honeymoon eyes, + you are my soul mate angel comprise. + + sadia + + + + Strangers + + longing, + burning, + itching, + craving, + a long hot + night filled + with desire + glances exchanged + names never mentioned + touch me + kiss me + feel me inside you + burn with passion + purr with ecstasy + scream with pain + no words were uttered + lust prevailed + The morning sun awoke us + and away we walked + perfect.........strangers. + + bluerose + + + + Two like souls dance in this shallow world. + the ability to judge. + Nightly outpour of some strand of me. + Pulled taut between self realization and angst. + But not the angst you now.. + He lies down the road around + the corner behind the store. + My angst is different. + One day I might even get introduced to who he really is. + Mortals may ponder and deem it worthy.. + of a new name. + I care not. + + + + My two best friends + + My two best friends, + is what I wish to express to you... + tell you about them, + for they truly are my two best friends. + + Why should I care what you think + of them, anyways? + Because, they could be anyone's + best friends, some day. + + Frist, there is the one, + I saw walking out the door, + I had finished eating, + and there she was... + Friend at first sight. + + I walked right up to her, and grabbed hold of her, + and decided she was the one I really wanted. + So, here I am, holding her now, + and, no I am never going to let her go. + + She is so graceful, + lines of saddness fade from her, + and images of happiness float about her, + just depending on the light she's in. + + So sleak, she always is at her peak, + looking wonderful, + no matter what kind of day she's had. + Oh, how jealous some get ... + + Always ready to listen, + and willing to talk, + Never just saying + "Oh, can't it just wait?". + + Then there is my other best friend. + Always willing to listen, + never giving me trouble, + he just sits there, and waits. + + Waits for me, to talk... + having patience for me to take my time. + Always available for me, + all I have to do is reach for him. + + No matter where I am, + there he is... + and no he is not a stalker, + he's just a true friend. + + Never running out of time, + for me... will always hold my hand. + He does this, because he has + eternity... or until a flame destorys him. + + So, how can I say that anyone is able + to reach these best friends of mine? + Beucase, of who they are... + no I am not being religious + or even spiritual... + (Just a little crazy) + + I"m just expressing my gratitude + for the friends that will always listen + and are always there for me. + the friends, that I can always rely on. + + Who are these great, + supposed best friends of mine? + Simply, papers of my journal, + and my writing pen. + + Kamira + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp016.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp016.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..50aca59c --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp016.txt @@ -0,0 +1,214 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + poetry is art, art is emotion. if you can look at art + and get directly into the mental state of it's creator, + then you have found true art. you should be able to + feel everything they were feeling, feeling it as they + were. this is what we seek for. to show ourselves to + the world, to say "this is me, and this is how I am." + you can say it in a poem, in a picture, in music, in + anything. as long as the point you are trying to make + is so strong that there is no denying its outcome. when + that happens you have made something truly worth + observing, truly worth spending the time to recognize. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + HATE + + I hate that when I voice my opinion + I am not taken as seriously as the jock boy next to me. + I hate that one out of every four men is a rapist. + I hate labels like slut, cunt, dyke and bitch oppressing us further. + I hate that we are all out to hurt each other and let envy rule + our lives. + I hate that when we hang out together it's assumed we've gone to + pick up guys. + I hate that are IQ is not half as important as our bra size. + I hate the stereotypes we have conformed to. + I hate the rivalry that is everlasting in our community. + I hate it when they tell not to bother because + I'm just some feeble little girl. + I hate that while walking through a club some guy thought he had + the right to touch my breast. + I hate that I am ashamed of my body. + I hate what the "leaders" of this country have done to us. + I hate that we are taught to believe masturbating is evil. + I hate their laws that place restrictions on me and my body + I hate that when my friend got drunk last night, + some jerk took advantage of her. + I hate the small voice inside me, + that whispered "she deserved it". + + + + From the Ambush + + Here I am, + The last night out bush - relief?. + It's warm and dry. + The cicadas have just retreated from their daily squawl. + I lay trackside, alongside Luke, + an ambush awaiting - blood and death. + Behind is the moon, + above fly the planes - silently, + overseeing and awaiting the cracks, flashing and flames. + + Where have you been? Speak soon. + + Dave + + + + MOIST DARKNESS + + shared from generation one to infinity, + an ordinary smile shackled to his lips + and footsteps in his eyes + more earth to unearth + more dirt to clean + with his hope for soapy dreams + + virgin color raped from his face + leaving dignity under his fingernails + and shame in his voice + more direction to direct + more heels to wound + with his penchant for naive trails + + timid fascination with emoting female onlookers + as he photographs bleeding diamonds for magazines + and loneliness in his heart + more lies to lay down with + more disappointment to savor + with his taste for shadow kisses + + + Indiana Poet March 3, 1998 + + + + Alone with the night, + Alone with your sight, + Your life passes you by, + A flash, A moment in disguise, + Distilled from thought, + Caught by fear, curious you drear, + What will happen next, + A test, to evaluate your soul, + A chance missed, your last kiss. + + Lonely for a friend, + Lonely for a when, + Your life watches the sky, + A flash, A moment with surprise, + Instilled in time, + Caught by lights, gladly you sight, + A familiar face forever known, + A person loved as home, + A chance kissed, it was all your own. + + Sadia + + + + Don't Call Me Sweetheart + + When you know nothing of me, + except something that you think you see, + if you call me 'sweetheart', + you may find yourself swept out to sea. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + Things are said, and feelings expressed, + a listening ear, or a shoulder to lean on, + if you call me 'sweetheart', + you may find yourself gone. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + There are those that are close, + and will call me what they will, + if you call me 'sweetheart' + you may find yourself with a huge bill. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + A term of endearment, one that I use to never live without, + now all I want to do is scream, when I hear you say that term. + If you call me 'sweetheart' or sweety, + you may find yourself locked in a dorm. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + Something so enduring and loving, + I don't want to be mentioned, + if it were up to me, I'd cringe and walk away. + For so long I was called such things, + I wish for nothing, anymore. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + I won't start your house on fire, + or throw up your covers and ruffle your feathers, + but I will not smile and nod, wishing for more. + So just as long as you remember ... + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + If you feel you can call me such a thing, + then think again and turn the other way, + unless you are someone that will stay, + and I feel the same way. + + Don't call me sweetheart. + + It brings too much up, + of things you'd rather not know, + so instead of pulling of us out to sea, + just let me be ... + + and don't call me sweetheart. + + (A bitter twist of a poem, on an extremity of small reality.) + + -Me, Myself, and I. 03/09/98 + + + + 11-8-97 + + imperfect beauty. candle slightly askew + liquidvox flows freely in other world + six hours of heaven for seven hours of hell + one will linger, a fleeting glimpse into + the funnel of soul. + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + + + + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp017.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp017.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..51b26a5e --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp017.txt @@ -0,0 +1,213 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + it has spirit. it has fire. it might even smell funny. + but you love it. that is why you read it. poems. from + all over the place. there are demons. there are heroes. + sorry, no ice cream. but you can still take your licks + from these fabulous poets. we are all poets. some sing + and some snore. but we all write because we can, we + want to, we need to and, well, because if we were not + writing these great poems, which are all neat and tidy + in presentation below, we are probably just regular + people busting our asses at the fast food joint. enjoy + this superb installment of literary goolash. peace. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + A forgotten field of grass and hay + Holds a crumbling wall of earth's decay + Whose upturned stones are faithfully shielding + A small tin box of possessions yielding + One last chance at a hope that's burning + In a forgotten traveller's life long journey. + + A freedom denied him in his youth + In hopeless pursuit of the truth + Barred from success by life's relent + And wearied dreams inside him pent + By fear of failing expectation + Under constant attack and evaluation. + + Yet within the torn forgotten letter + A light will shine which teaches better + Than to accept the horrors thrust upon + And pursue a life before its gone + And from doubt's strong prison free the dream + Letting imagination from within one stream. + + .illusionary. 29 Apr 1998 + + + + Trip Like I Do + + Trip like I do. + Visuals beynd comprehension. + Experience is a new thrill. + Alchohol is water + Drus are a waste of time. + + Red wine mixing red blood. + Pure soul pouring out + living death screaming inward + stop + + slow start, recover from old + begin again, quick return + fucking scream through me! + I used to be somebody + + I am everyone. The world is me. + Beyond, flowing aroud all + done + Trip like I do. + + mea_culpa 12-20-97 + + + + Closets + + Mingeled, mangeled memories + rumble in my mind + Jingle Jangeled pieces of a time + forgetten , + lost between now and ....... + never + + Dark demons bear your name + your taste still lingers on my lips + and i feel you in between my hips + + I push them out + in + and + out + they go + + Finally they've disappeared + as darkness turns to dawn + and within the night + again they roam + and i moan ....... louder + they run back in and hide + within the closets of my mind + + + + LIFELINE FRAGMENTS + + i'm fortunate. i've been + close to death. another + turn, another choice. + no god. one too + many paths. leaving + hope in a dead voice. + + faith in eyes. listening + to the forces. this + passion, that disgrace. + no luck. drowning the + word-talent. sticking + melodrama on my face. + + i'm rewound. nothing + to play me. technology + for help, technology for hate. + no tears. everyone + wants a number. it's all + merely society's bait. + + childhood in hands. pretending + to see friends. her + half-smile, his low talk. + no crossroads. humming tunes + in my feet. it's only + fear that warms our walk. + + i'm uncertain. i'm thinking + there's an answer. systematic + dream, fool-proof goal. + no enemies. prosperity + resides in your motion. find + one more piece to become whole. + + Indiana Poet March 2, 1998 + + + + Say it aint so, + apologies unwanted defiantly deferrable, + unfaithful you are acting bizarre, + guilty and liable for punishment, + unbelievably mournful upon my judgment, + let it go and see how easy it will be, + let me go and set me free I see, + unfair and uncaring eyes of broken pride, + undercover love is not that kind. + + Say it aint so, + I love you so you know, + stop the hurt forever cursed, + I try to expunge your thought but plunge, + into a place lonely in space, + I try to express my feelings as less, + often to relinquish your dignity with peace again, + but my love is confused, tangled, and abused, + my love is accused, scandaled, and refused. + + sadia + + + + Night Worthless? + + Worthless night, no workout or heart + just wasting time as thoughts go by. + Leaving nothing for the better, + marking not a thing for me. + + You are dancing with a twinkle in your eye. + Your bodies move closer, + you wonder if thats how I could be. + Another heatless night gone away. + + What draws my thoughts + to warmer places with other faces? + Somehow, something is calling me, + or is it my own wishes? + + Suffocating, alluring, nothing present. + Is there anyone who could accept me, + and I could love just the same? + Another thought filled night. + + Worthless night, of only day dreams, + nothing really seems real. + Come calm my heart, if you are right, + and maybe this will not just be another worthless night. + + Kamira Febuary 6, 1998 + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp018.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp018.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..9ae84521 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp018.txt @@ -0,0 +1,252 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + [intro] + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + kiss the needles + + a snow white pain + seethes in morbid silence + a quiet simplicity that + outlines my very being + quickly - turn off the lights + before searing brightness + burns my mortal soul + unwilling and unable to + fulfill the simple desires + that permeate his being + + i wonder what it is to + be a violet - perfection + in its own right + imagine the possibility of + suffering a yellow soul and + being adored in spite of it + a silent reaching, a bleeding + within within + and yet beautiful without + what is it about innocence + that beckons? And can I + capture that lacy corsage + and pin it upon my own + breast? Or would it prick me, + a sharp death instrument, + shunning the torrid veined + flesh that lives there? + That flesh + That flesh that knows + teeth and fists, an intelligent + knowing that blackens + and mars, a rose petal + torn by life. See the gentle + curl of ruin and love it as + you would a violet + please. + + demonika 4/14/98 + + + + Blood + + My bite breaks the surface of his trembling, pale skin, + as I rest his head gently upon my shin. + + His warm, moist, luscious blood drips through the cracks of my teeth, + and I listen to the sound of my tasteful love's frightened shrieks. + + I see him squirm, wiggle and tighten his fist, + as I move in to give him one final everlasting kiss, + + I feel his chilled flesh between my two hands, + while his hair parts into small, thin strands. + + He looks at me with pleading blue-green eyes, + as I smile sweetly and lick my lips dry. + + I let him loose and he falls to the floor, + as I walk away wishing I had more. + + I move on to find my next male victim, + as the sun sets and the day becomes dim. + + I walk through the woods, lips coated with dry blood, + sneakers carrying me through the sticky mud. + + Crickets chirping their tune, + while I look up and cry at the moon. + + My eyes that have changed to auburn, + look around remembering all I have learned. + + Hair of blond that has now been changed to a darker shade of black, + hugs my shoulders and dances on my back. + + I hear him in the distance, so my pace becomes faster, + something grabs me from behind, it is my master. + + He created me so he is my love, + I wonder if I am damned as I look up above. + + What I have become is not my fault, I didn't have a choice, + when it came to my decision, he had stolen my voice. + + I do not wish to be changed, I longer understand the meaning of good, + you can try to change me back, but I doubt anyone ever could. + + Volaris + + + + New Gods Decree + + subtle lies, faithless cries + i hear them all + + for I am one of the new gods + let it be, the emotional debris + + persecution unending, my soul in lending + new stye of abuse + + for I am one of the new gods + flesh is torn, again i'm born + + self damage your sin, as if giving in + you try to drag me back + + for I am one of the new gods, and this is my decree + + mea culpa 98 + + + + TEMPORARY PLOT + + it's motionless. this passing + phase sleeps. decision want + to circumsize my integrity. + peeling back love. leaving + emotions on the floor. one + more kiss for credibility. + + childhood forces. black + days and dead nights. everyone + sees them pointing a finger. + wake up. nothing breaks + like a dream. and no one + knows you when you linger. + + borrowing idols. turning to + sounds for answers. and there's + only one more sacrifice to try. + thoughts harvest hate. sanity + bleeds into the Holy Grail. but i + am not prepared to fight and die. + + Indiana Poet March 5, 1998 + + + + In times of sadness pressing madness, + you make me laugh comical tears, + to forgetful hardships colored murky, + we elope to happiness hello honest, + you attire my emotions adorned alive, + I love you like sunsine heated time. + + In times of sickness pressing wickedness, + you make me well thankful health, + to amnesia amazement cured despondency, + we elope to fancy for each other, + a rare caring crafted honey, + you've acquired my emotions dancing inside, + I love you like sunshine heated time. + + Sadia + + + + Dark Cavern + + Dark cavern of my refuge + Only the way I want it. + Light as much or as little, + scent and decor up to me. + + Alcove in the wall, + where I can stop and stare. + No need to wonder, + what I am doing there. + + Not liking the outter-world + I can always find my way, + to that dark cavern. + Dark cavern of my refuge. + + Filled with only the items I wish + no need for rushing or being harsh. + The cavern is onlyt he way I want it. + Days or years do not matter. + For I shall always ... + the dark cavern of my refuge. + + Kamira March 20, 1998 + + + + BULIMIA + + Images + in front of me + waifs + wisps of hair + I stare into my reflection + and cry + fill my needs + pour in more + It's full + I stick the hand of fate + down my throat + deeper + come out + anger, bitterness + fill me + purging + pouring out + like a river + with empty + promises + of becoming you + a frail bird + empty soul + a waif + Longing, + Bingeing, + Purging + + BlueRose + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp019.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp019.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0ac31eca --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp019.txt @@ -0,0 +1,236 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + "A poet once said, "The whole universe is in a glass of + wine." We will probably never know in what sense he meant + that, for poets do not write to be understood. But it is + true that if we look at a glass of wine closely enough we + see the entire universe. There are the things of physics: + the twisting liquid which evaporates depending on the wind + and weather, the reflections in the glass, and our imagination + adds the atoms. The glass is a distillation of the earth's + rocks, and in its composition we see the secrets of the + universe's age, and the evolution of stars. What strange + array of chemicals are in the wine? How did they come to be? + There are the ferments, the enzymes, the substrates, and the + products. There in wine is found the great generalization: + all life is fermentation. Nobody can discover the chemistry + of wine without discovering, as did Louis Pasteur, the cause + of much disease. How vivid is the claret, pressing its + existence into the consciousness that watches it! If our + small minds, for some convenience, divide this glass of wine, + this universe, into parts -- physics, biology, geology, + astronomy, psychology, and so on -- remember that nature does + not know it! So let us put it all back together, not + forgetting ultimately what it is for. Let it give us one more + final pleasure: drink it and forget it all!" + + - Richard P. Feynman, The Feynman Lectures on Physics, v. 1, p. 3-10 + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + vegas pink polishing my soul + + as i sniff my fuming fingertips + i thirst for grappa to wipe away + the tears within me + thinning paint + crying pink on keys + stroking my ego + with the rapidness of clicks + squelched shortly after by + " + i can type faster + two finger + fat finger + " + nothing i do seems right + yet for wrong i do not qualify + wronged by myself + more than anyone else + for giving them that power + to judge me + for + believing and weeping and wishing + that some day + some day + ... + affirmation came without me + + yt + 040198 + + + + Rain + + Rain + cold and wet soaking + through layers of material + reaching your inner core + + Rain + Hot and humid filling + your mind with lustful thoughts + + Rain + pouring straight from the heavens + cleansing your soul + + Rain + Pour, overpower me with + your sweet liquid + drench me with wetness + let me feel you against + my raw naked skin + + Bluerose + + + + UNDERGROUND POTENTIAL + + child cries. like rain + on ripe peaches. other + crops failed this year. + mother sleeps. father + tries to sow pain. teachers + cannot explain his fear. + + some said better. some + never knew. maybe it's + dying within his head. + silent talk. keeping + pace with ghosts. one more + chance to beat them dead. + + bloody canvas. cross + stitching anger. fumbling + with pieces in his fingers. + lengthy memories. pruning + with dull shears. settling + into roots where death lingers. + + + Indiana Poet March 23, 1998 + + + + night life + + its three twenty + the early hours of this early morn + and not a light from the hidden sun + + sleep ive had plenty + yet still exhausted and forlorn + i will not sleep until this night is done + + sacrificing effectiveness for a life in the dark + sleeping through the active day + waking with the moon + + sleep has deserted me tonight + and now i silently lament + that in peaceful dreams + this loath'd night was spent + + .illusionary. 1 may 1998 + + + + + A sexy perfume perhaps a clue, + for intimate acts secluded softly, + classic climax clinching confession, + you exile loneliness to mercenary islands, + evoking rituals new and exciting, + esoteric essence evening crescent, + you light my fire cozy calls, + you escort my shyness orphaned hunger, + to open passion free from teasing, + we travel through doors allured erotic, + through luxuriant motions and taboo potions, + we collide fantasy driven magic, + to evolve a connection pleasing pure, + your me I'm you we are so sure! + + + + Pulse of Bass + + Pulses race forth as the loose beats increase + No need for light, and all is seen. + Darkness wraps around, a comforting blanket. + Sparkles shine off and on, on and off ... + + Racing to the beat, as the heat rises. + Clammer reaches out and is damned. + Twilights eye shines vibrantly, + the devils no where to be found. + + White reflects the light bounce, bounce + Black soaks it all in, as if a drain emptying + Pour down the food of music -- + increase the pulses race. + + Light strobe back and forth, + a rainbow of colors are shown all around. + Pulse going fast, base intact + the music stops, and you fall flat. + + -Kamira March 20, 1998 + + + + enter, stage (life) left. + + Angels with wings made of smoke and mirrors. + False experts in a new technology world. + Almost leaders taking us into uncertainty + + Ability to sync, reach out, find your own + Lashing out in confused direction + Problems of old manifest in new medium + + False deity, religious cries, throwback + Holy war played out in statistics and debate + New god's decree lost to deaf ears + + Money and power the old driving force + our sick puppeteer defining societal norm + once good people swayed by its charm + + growing and learning, life's lessons on television + binding morals or past ethics lost in youth + chivalry an outcast, replaced by ignorant evil + + child protege, look beyond the force feed + challenge the world or be ripped off + regardless, you will inherit this plague + + today a victim, tomorrow responsible + your future a curse + + mea_culpa + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp020.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp020.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..366a9ed7 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp020.txt @@ -0,0 +1,347 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + poets are often souls of the tortured variety. + the tortured soul is in touch with pieces of + himself that most people are not even aware of + until they read that one line or phrase that + reminds them of the dark places that they seek + to hide or ignore. often, the poet is a loner, + or only seeks the company of others similarly + tortured - an irony, for much of the genius in + poetry lies in the universality of the human + experience. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + PURSUING MOODS + To Tracey Hilkey + + i hear footsteps following + me + or maybe i'm following them + but in the early morning, + when everything is + + quiet + and it seems no one is around, + there's enough aroused to scare + me + into believing it's afternoon + and i should be + + somewhere else, doing things + normal + people would do in the later + stages of a day, but instead + i find myself keeping watch + on a world that won't sleep + + alone + because in the flickering + night sky, this planet makes + love + with various massive bodies + that float in its atmosphere + and still, and still i + + listen + for those footsteps to remind + me + that i cannot escape + from being followed + and i cannot stop following + + someone + although i do not see anyone + there's no touch, no voice + and there's just a sound + trying to tell me something + about this path i take, about + + myself + and how it cannot be sane + to wander blindly behind + invisible footsteps or realize + footsteps + are walking hand in hand + with my tracks, with my + + frustration + that swells in my feet, + that lingers in my face, + that travels through my + tunnels + to seek that shimmering light + but i cannot + + cut + myself to let blood force + out my indelible hatred, + to taste an inner freedom + that gropes for an opportunity + to feel like a normal shadow + + walking + in front of the pack, not behind + where footsteps rattle the staircase + and i am confident, in rare form, to + shout + for someone to step forward, + + reveal + that he is that constant in my life, + this imaginary friends i've spoken with + since i was seven, since i + fell + into desperate hallways inside + school buildings that helped trap + + myself + within my invisible cosmos, + where words on paper gave me + shelter + gave me something to savor + when underestimated forces + + swallowed + me whole, to digest me inside + their stomach tract where i found + myself + surrounded by people without faces, + without voices, without any markings to + distinguish + one person's fears from another's + but we felt safe, we could share + + feelings + with just words written down + and when we finish this digestive + process + we can, i can again hear footsteps + made by an imaginary friend + or some wingless guardian + + angel + that can comfort only through + telepathic means, that motivates + through photosynthesis, needing + nothing + but someone to believe in them + and i believe in footsteps that guide + + me + to somewhere that i can feel + secure with my voice, my face + and with those scars only + i + can see on the membranes inside + and i'll secure faith in what + + spirituality + rests, or works, in my poems + because that's where my happiness + waits + for me to take control and forget + about footsteps that lead, footsteps + that follow me endless journey + + nowhere + because the best footsteps + are those i strategically, + those i confidently place for + others + to examine how i paced myself + in trying to deal with everyone's + + footsteps + + + Indiana Poet April 2, 1998 + + + + tears run down my face, + but now even that is just a fantasy, + made callused from the inside, + my own stupidity burns my soul. + + outside the skin is still tender, + but I forget and put it too close to the blade, + getting cut again, but nothing like my inner scars, + and the skin becomes harder. + + now even immortal gods and love can't make me feel, + no one hurts me but me, + no one makes me happy but me, + no one loves me but me. + + with all this callousness I can finally get closer to what i want, + I can be who I am not, but who they want me to be, + my soul can finally be sold, + now being ripped from my body, causing no pain. + + happiness from about, + others making me happy, finally friends, + finally hope, + maybe some day even love. + + an offhand comment, a slip this hollow shell shouldn't make, + the others see what makes the blood pump through my veins, + they see past all the callused skin, + they see into what is left of my soul. + + they all cringe in hatred, not understanding what they are seeing, + I try to explain, to help them understand, + but how can they when I don't either, + all I know is that it is real, and it is me. + + they run, all it took was a second, + left standing alone again, + they crack in my skin leaving an open wound, + must wait, only time, before it will heal. + + I stare at the wound, hurting me as much as it hurts them, + none will accept it, my blood too red, + from the crack comes what I hadn't felt for so long, + the tears finally run down my face. + + Dactrius + + + + meaning in art + + static depression, the start. + my brush of anguish + resounding splendor manifests before me + + the cry of hope amidst the repressed + + shackles of fury cage their power + + null hope, a wondering glimpse + taste the sight or smell the aura + square one, am I done? + + mea culpa 12-16-97 + + + + Childs Eyes + + Did you ever stare into a child's eyes? + can you see the innocence? + the desire to live + + Look again into the child's eyes + once reality sinks in... + + Do you ever wonder + where it all went? + The stained glass illusions. + The dreams of catching rainbows. + + A strong harsh wind + had silenced his internal flame + forever + Vengeance and fear thrives deep + beneath the scars he bears + + All hope vanquished + powerless, frightened eyes + pleading for your mercy + + The longer his gaze lingered, + The more rivers flowed, + reaching the ocean of your soul, + The harder the impact + of your callous blows. + + Did you ever stare into a child's eyes? + and wonder........ + When the angelic blue turned icy? + + Did you ever stare into a child's eyes? + and wonder.............. + Can I ever be forgiven? + + Did you ever stare into a child's eyes? + and wonder............. + Will he really pull the trigger? + Did you ever stare into a child's eyes? + + and wonder. + + Bluerose + + + + Hello dark eyes of shady suspicion, + my surveillance of you has turned too caring, + with permission may I move forward and hold you, + a melting memoir relaxed for eternity, + discreet in passion you take me behind shadows, + a harmless secret of tempting desire. + + Hello dark eyes of shady suspicion, + my moment with you has turned too erotic, + now delicacy demands we part for a while, + to cryptic realms we share the darkness, + your echo of desire is drawing me closer, + alone we are to emit are emotions. + + Hello dark eyes of shady suspicion, + my time with you has turned to love, + rowing through oceans of stormy emotions, + I forever feel your breathe upon my body, + inside of me you are I confess this love, + together forever I will please your lust. + + + + Puncture + + Defy the manner in which all is known + Not knowing the history, nor asking. + Future of the present is here now. + + Deem who to be worth of such, + and all shatters at your touch. + Not knowing does such. + + Capture the memories, black and white + single snapshot in a mind gone blank. + Past is no longer in search of the present. + + Torture your memory to remember, + such things should have been long forgotten. + Leave now, to only reach the "to be". + + Toss away all hopes and dreams, + do not claim to be a god. + The power is gone, and the sight is lost. + + -Kamira March 20, 1998 + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp021.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp021.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fa5fcb91 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp021.txt @@ -0,0 +1,244 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + i often think of ways to describe this zine, and I + usually come up short. this is no exception. + why the appeal of poetry? i think the lack of formal + english.. the pure chaos that can ensue in the words + gives it appeal. + + other times i think the randomness finds home in the + free will we all have. or perhaps it is something + else. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + Freedom... + + The house was empty when he got home. + It was better like that. + Noone could understand he needed to leave. + He needed to be free. + He was eager to be on his way, + to where he'd be happy. + So he sat at his desk and typed a goodbye letter. + He'd miss his pals, but promised to see them again, someday. + He'd need to prepare for his trip now. + He began to fill the tub with warm water, + not bothering to remove his cloths. + For a second he wondered, is leaving a + temporary solution to a permenant problem? + No. Life is an eternal problem. + With that he reached for his blade, + Swiftly making 2 incisions, down eigther wrist. + Just like that + his wrists began to drain his angst + into the warm water. + The Pain was leaving quickly... + The Deceit + The Depresion + The Breakdowns + The Tears + The... + I'll love you forever...Monte, I promise. + all fucking gone now...exiting from wrist to water. + No more being alone... + no more being anything anymore. + It all drains from him. slowly... + He feels a tingle over his body + as he gets light headed. + He smiles, with a tear in his eye. + "I'd rather die then lose your love." + He dips his head into the now crimson pool. + He inhales its warmth. + His vision turns to black. + And now... + Freedom... + + Montell the p3nny + + + + Reason + + Often one hundred words to express + a single thought or desire. The beauty + of unmoderated speak. To directionless + travel and eternal unforgiven. All to + say such a simple thing. + + The things we do. The lies we vomit. + Actions as foreign as heaven itself. + All come natual by some miracle. + + For what? The one thing that seldom + exposes itself in meaningful form. + A curse or blessing among the chaos + of heart. The primary slice of + ruling passion. + + Love can certainly condemn. + + + + an untitled work of agony + + night stillness trembles with the slither soft sound + of my heart + i n ch i n g away from me + it makes a bloody path + pocked with the black wounds of loss + i tie a pink ribbon around it + and put it in a box + for safekeeping + + demonika + + + + SILENCE ECHOES + + Silence echoes + still and wide + far within + the place beside + where your voice, heard + amongst the roar + of mem'ries found + the day before, + was lost amongst + the thoughts that I + could not speak out + nor even cry. + + At times I'm lost + for things to say, + and so in haste + I drift away + too far from you + to even see + the one who angers + me is me; + who, though strewn + in rage's quarry, + implores you to believe + I'm sorry. + + Cancer Omega + + + + UNTITLED + + Do you remember your first time + the excitement you felt at the end of the line? + Do you remember the creamy white satin? + With each turn a new twist arose + you understood it far better than most + Losing yourself between the covers + Never knowing you'd be lovers + Finding pleasure with each twirl + of the tongue + Caressing the words + one by one + When it was over, you're whole body shook + These pleasures can only be found + inside a book + + Bluerose + + + + Naive with intent, hurt and overspent, + You experience a dramatic event, + Unwanted and untrue, battered and confused, + Your mind starts to twist. + + Second thoughts begin to chime, + If you only knew the time, + Your love could sense the truth, + Even though whats the use, + You lost whats left, abused, + Your pride and will to choose, + The mate you one day sought, + The one whose blind from thought. + + If hidden agendas bother your night, + Open the door, and send them in flight, + A difficult task to unwind, at last, + But now omnicient you are, + A sight to see thus far, + Your now a shining star! + + + sadia + + + + SAY NO TO "MELTING POT" THEORISTS + + swallowing hard, i find avant-garde prussians + lingering in my reflection, with german arrogances + squeezed into my fingers; an anglo-saxophone tune. + + neutral swiss; banking on my central europe heritage + where religious fractions were divided and multiplied, + leaving my family little recourse but to learn america. + + now i am some generation icon, gapped from historial accuracy + by people whose forefathers probably kissed my foremothers once; + inconsistencies in backgrounds still force everyone apart. + + April 28, 1998 + + Indiana Poet + + + + Speaker + + Numerous lines flow out, + untouchable strings, + that hold my heart. + + Reaching past my body, + into the depth of what is unseen. + Surrounding my every breath. + + Streaming itno my very veins, + steam is released through my pores. + Leaving me, having been cleansed. + + Winding through my very spirit, + it lifts my soul higher. + Body is only an image. + + An image that is better + to have forgotten + then to ever redeem. + + -Kamira March 20, 1998 + + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.sekurity.org/~poetry + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp022.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp022.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ecb3b4b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp022.txt @@ -0,0 +1,246 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + It is amazing that a good poet can tell an epic story + in 20 lines when Stephen King can't rip out a good + thriller in under 1,000 pages. Poetry forces the poet + to suffer a stringent economy, even in the book length + epic poems beating to the rhythm of iambic pentameter. + Support these talented souls. Buy poetry journals and + books. Show publishers that a good poem is worth it's + weight in dollars. + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + An electric galaxy startled by reality, + an earthquake that tests fearless mortality, + you question this event but lost is the answer, + a cost you resent not paying when it was asked for, + in a time of disbelief, dismay, and displeasure, + at a time of impulse, anger, and whether, + you act with diligence depolyed too clever, + you provide a reaction uncontrollable as laughter, + a disaster it is when turned to frenzy, + it takes a new twist when taken seriously, + you see its creates time in sudden matters, + its after the fact in which you attack, + and excuse yourself from fault without question, + and refuse yourself from forgiving this exception! + + sadia + + + + chia pets and high octane soda + + i spent all day today + trying to get you outta my head + every last one of my thoughts today + was of your beauty + + and oh how your beauty makes me feel + (how you make me feel for that matter) + you just blow my mind + all into little bits and peices + + you sweep me away + on wings i never knew i had + you make me feel oh so high + like i can fly amongst the twilight + + take me away + and show me where you want to go + show me how you feel the way you feel + cause i wanna be there too + + i wish i could be with you + and hold you in my arms + i wish i could feel you right here beside me + (i know what i want and i think you do too) + + help me feel the night + you seem to wear it so well + carry me into the night + and show me how to wear myself + + boogah + + + + EMILIO JUAREZ DIES + + left front row - + dense country breeze + gently rains down. + + inadequate crowd - + naked in tears + for showing up + empty-handed. + + someone speaks - + i have never met him, + but he knows names, + places, accomplishments. + + stone-packed field - + i see two for my parents, + and my sister, fragile, + drops a tulip between them. + + civilian tradition - + no honorable flag, + no guns, no bugle; + generic newspaper ashes. + + it's unbelievable to think + poets die like everyone else. + + Indiana Poet April 27, 1998 + + + + Swirled Twirl + + Poems of lines, that wind through. + My mind is full, always busy. + Never before reading and reflecting back. + Now I sit and am astounded by + what all I have found. + + What is this inner beat, + that keeps going and going, + seeming to never to stop. + How do these things spillout + and form their own life? + + Crazy swirls and low spirals + spin around, make about as much sense. + Why then do I wonder why + I can sit and be kicked and never cry. + My out pouring of emotion kept in rythme. + + Kamira March 20, 1998 + + + + MY SHADOW ON THE WALL + + Morning's dawned, another day. + I wish I knew some other way + To say goodbye to those I love, + Tell you what I'm thinking of. + + But the words refuse to form. + All the seeds of reason shorn + Simply lay upon the floor. + You won't see me anymore. + + Oh my baby, gently sleep. + I didn't want to see you weep. + It's a shame I have to go. + There are things you'll never know. + + 'Cause I won't be coming home. + No, the streets are where I'll roam. + You won't know me when I call + Nor my shadow on the wall. + + Think of me in tender times + When I sang you gentle rhymes + And I rocked you fast asleep, + ..."I pray the Lord my soul to keep." + + Oh my lover, think of me + When you're standing by the sea, + And you feel the windswept spray. + Think of me while I'm away. + + For I won't be coming home + No, the streets are where I'll roam. + You won't know me when I call + Nor my shadow on the wall. + + Over by our favorite pier + Hold a seashell to your ear + And above the ocean's noise, + In that shell you'll hear my voice. + + I'll be saying, "I loved you, + But there were things I had to do. + Though I had love in my hands + I was such a lonely man." + + What a pity it should be + That you never once knew me, + But such things are part of life... + ...I await the reaper's scythe. + + Cancer Omega + + + + resolution to failure + + as i lay my head on the leather bound book + tension flows out of me, muscles relaxing + the will to move on is lost forever + strength to keep up the good fight faded + + the time of vibrance decades removed + subtle power, natural leadership, lost friends + + a gaunt relic of what i used to be + my will is caving in, dooming me to solitue + i take one last breath... again + + mea_culpa + + + + one night stand + + shame is oil on the mirror + the morning after + left behind, an impermanent + memoir of a hot cheek + against cold glass + + demonika + + + + will the cycle ever end: + + A great emptiness beholds me + a flutter of the heart + a feeling of fullness + a change in lifestyle + a change in temperament + realization dawns + this is not me + a great emptiness beholds me + + blaise + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.sekurity.org/~poetry + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp023.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp023.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d147ced9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp023.txt @@ -0,0 +1,250 @@ + + + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + "I think we ought to read only the kind of books that + wound and stab us . . . We need books that affect us + like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death + of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being + banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. + A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us." + + - letter to Oskar Pollak, by Franz Kafka + + And so mirrors poetry.... + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + Kdqhdgp's Heart + + I have a locket, + that I wear around my neck. + It's silver and simple, + hangs at just the right length. + + Seeing it at first sight, + I thought of you, + and I hope now you will think of me. + Wear it, tuck it away, lock it beyond ... + + There is only one - you + that I know besides myself + only interested in knowing + the truth ... the truth of my heart lies inside. + + I wear this locket, + when I am missing you, + or wish I was closer, + or just when you're on my mind. + + My heart is as if a locked locket, + that can only open to a certain person + that can seep into it, and view it, + being able to hold it, and not condem it. + + The locket I wear about my neck, + will be given away - very soon. + I will miss it, but I know + that it should be yours. + + For it is only you + that has somehow helped + free this locked heart of mine. + It must go to you. + + This locked locket + will only be opened by you ... + for it has my heart and I hope + you will take care of it. + + Not being able to say + exactly what all I sense or feel, + I will just leave it at this ... + a silver, simple heart-shaped locket. + + -Kamira + + + + A seagull cries + The water laps against the cockles + as the tide is ripped from the bay + mist shrouds the pines that stand motionless + on the bar. + Surf crashes down from behind, + as i lay in the open + alone and saddened + by the disrepair of lives forgotten + lives lost + in the silence, i hear + their dreams as once they lived, + their love, their friendships + made and lost forever. + + + + true story v2.0 + + i need you, + do you need me? + i plant a kiss on your bare stomach, + and follow it to the cleft of your breasts, + with passion, +again and again, + you inspire me, + to the point of insanity, + you make me want you more and more, + everyday, + i'll make love to you until the sun implodes, + kiss after kiss, + day after day, + over and over, + until you tire of me, + for i love you, +and there's not a goddamn thing anyone can do to kill that love sugar... + + + + resolve + + [i feel the] guilt for my + actions. did I not see her resolve? was + I scared? or did I not match hers as + I fled onward in life? [scared to give] + + contemplation yielded to [painful] + decision. a forced [one second] attrition + to please her. to puppet the rest + of my life. snap judgement that + now brings pain, like the rope to neck. [will + next week] + + even knowing, will i let it happen? i must + so dearly live for that pain. single voice + of unheard merit, cry out in musical hell. + why can't i + explain that i live without her, because + of my own shortcoming, not hers. + + with a 'no' falling off lips, i silently + ask you to give me self again. i know i'm + so wrong, i know my pain will grow. + + with that + i lost resolve + and here i'm damned. to solitude. + + mea culpa + + + + your mold is too small + for the plaster that is me + i crack at the seams + of your wishes and hopes + my inferior material will + not curve gracefully to + your vision of artistic + perfection + force it if you must + and watch your masterpiece + crumble into a haze of + smoky dust, your grand + vision reduced to the + possibility of an almost + being + i laugh in your face + controlling creators + with the grimaces of + children watching their + sandcastles washed into + the tide + + demonika + + + + THIS HAPPENS WHEN YOUR LOVER RETURNS + To Her Again + + love ferries through your veins + like seagulls fly across the bay + they will return home from loneliness + while love cycles back to your heart + + love deposits itself in fingers and toes + but it cannot grasp other loves + until it evolves into more than lust + when whispers echo lingering touches + + love remains as sedentary flesh + when it cannot be refreshes by a kiss + because neglect traps this emotion + behind negative regrets from your past + + and when remorse calls your numb + love still seeks to escape injustice + but no matter how many times you forget + love keeps flowing toward your heart + + Indiana Poet April 29, 1998 + + + + Blood + + Cut so cleanly, + Shaped like jewels, + Maybe emeralds, maybe diamonds, + Hitting the ground they explode, + Smaller and smaller jewels, + So very precious, so very red, + So very necessary, + Worth a fortune to the few, + Taken for granted by the many, + The great equilizer, + Fending off death, + Foretelling its arrival, + Microscopically dissected, + Broken apart, simulated and studied, + Its importance has faded, its mystery unravelled, + Its purpose known... + Pain, despair, lose, love, loneliness, hopelessness, rejection, + All of these and more, the unlearnt, + The unknown, unfound reasons, + Cut so cleanly, + Shaped like jewels, + Down they drip, down they fall, + The light fades, things get darker, + Breathe comes slower, calmer, + Life, life, life, its a whisper, + Slipping, slipping into serenity + Everything becomes clearier, + A mystery to many, + Blood. + + Inner^Kry 16/Jul/98 + + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.sekurity.org/~poetry + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp024.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp024.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..07a047a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp024.txt @@ -0,0 +1,264 @@ + + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + "I believe man will not merely endure; he will prevail. + He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures + has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, + a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. + The poet's, the writer's duty is to write about these + things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting + his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honour and + hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which + have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not + merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, + the pillars to help him endure and prevail." + + - William Faulkner, from his acceptance speech for the + Nobel Prize for literature, 1949 + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + turbulence + + Oceans whistling through a thumbtack cul-de-sac + Feigning joy, I really ate my hat + Effusing blood like so much dead life + I coughed, blinked, looked up, and it was gone + So tired of the same day-ins and -outs + Silver velvet lining; pearlescent pride + A facade; for insurmountable insecurities + Cynicism hidden by the fog + + Let me cough out my insides + Feel free to run, but you can't hide + There is no antivenin + For lost time + (You can't fix wasted time) + + Is there a reason + That I persist? + History repeats itself + I'm not enjoying this + And if today sucked + And yesterday was quite its twin + What's to indicate + That tomorrow I can win? + + And if I cut open + My left eye + So that you could see inside + Would you be frightened at the disarray; + Ramshackle lean-to holly spray? + Or would you find what I cannot: + Value/essence long forgot? + An innocence once pure, now maimed + Mutated by toxins, discolored by stains + + The blood would gush + In cascading floods + No one cut it + But still it runs + Cold like ice + And hot like Hell + Viscously thin + It's just as well + And twice as poor + With three times the bite + Show me the jump, + And I just might. + + agrajag + + + + fading in and out + + i'm drunk on nothing in particular + on a little bit of this and some of that + and a whole lot of nothing + and i'm stuck here again + in this pit of disillusion + broken bones and drunkedness confusion + wish i knew what it was to be a kid + try to live it again and again + but every time i try + i can't handle it + and i wonder why + i'm back to being alone again + and i can't fucking stand it anymore + and i just wanna blow up + and take everyone down with me + no resolution + no reason + no anything anymore + no... + + boogah + + + + To hold, body,mind,soul + is to + hold a new world + in rapture + + caress a mans body + with hands, breath, and toungue + Discovery + to a new world + + Desire flows through + every nerve + lips so sensuous + so soft + + There is only heat + in the touch + electrical, magnetic, powerful + Magic + + Release all inhibition + let it flow + let discovery take you + to a new world + of rapture + + Blaise.. + + + + twice + + Spoon fed me sugar, Coated lies + That went with ease like honey, So sweet + The very hand that caused the pain extended + To the arms sought salvation in. + Made this little girl grow up, + Now experienced in the art of love + Hand in hand with betrayal and shame + A scorned woman I've become + Numb from your actions + Deaf from you lies + Blind to those passionate eyes + Its funny how the taste of honey no longer lingers + Sweet but bitter in my mouth + + bluerose + + + + cockeyed + + a cockeyed optimist: + + when the sky is a bright canary yellow + i forget every cloud i've ever seen + so they call me a cockeyed optimist + immature and incurably green + i have heard people rant and rave and bellow + that we're done and we might as well be dead + but i'm only a cockeyed optimist + and i can't get it into my head + i see the human race + is falling on its face + and hasn't very far to go + but every whippoorwill + is selling me a bill + and telling me it just ain't so + i could say life is just a bowl of jello + and appear more intelligent and smart + but i'm stuck like a dope + with a thing called hope + and i can't get it out of my heart + not this heart + + a cockeyed pessimist: + + when the sky is a dark and dreary yellow + i forget any time i've ever been + anything other than miserable + insecure and incurably mean + i have heard people rant about the weather + say it's grey and they'd rather be in bed + but i'm nothing if i'm not miserable + with a cloud living over my head + i see the human race + a smile upon its face + i think of all that they don't know... + however they are still + despite their lack of will + going wherever time may go + i could say life is just a bowl of drano + and appear more immune to things that smart + but i'm stuck without hope + in the land of dope + and i can't get it out of my heart + not this heart + + sarikei + + + + PASSIONATE ROUTINE + + i cannot tell which side of your face + i like best. symmetry has its flaws. + and it has its museum-portrait quality. + + when midnight moon settles on your + sleepy side, it illuminates a weary + smile. i can only admire it because + if i awake you, it will fade, you will + turn over and clouds will bury the moon. + + another fresh dawn highlights your + eager side. this smile differs from + last night's expression. i am secure + in this morning's moment. and i lean + down to shade the sun from your eyes + while i revive those lips with a kiss. + + and as i reach your face, my mouth + becomes filled with cotton fibers. + + + Indiana Poet April 29, 1998 + + + + quiet noise + + static depression my emotional link + almost just, the need to rethink + + seduction of crime, and being alone + more pure feeling, i can't condone + + steady rejection my blanket at night + a single reason to give up my fight + + mea_culpa + + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.sekurity.org/~poetry + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp025.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp025.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..95d94f4a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckp025.txt @@ -0,0 +1,218 @@ + + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + Only my heart can show the pain, + Only my touch can show my happines, + Only my thoughts can show the confusion, + Only my speaking can show my knowledge. + - Denise McCay + + ------------------------------------------------------- + + + unfinished symphony + + Look outside, the gods are crying, + screaming out their agony, + look outside, they're all lying, + searing with their epathies, + look outside, see the world, + writhing in its pain, + look outside, see the earth, + starting over again, + Look out there, the sky shows its sorrow, + Look outside, think it'll heal by tomorrow? + can you see the scars? + they're hardly reflective. + Open mouths, silent cries, + anyone can tell, + the look of haunted eyes, + rivers of tears flowing down, + the slivers of fear, + you wear like a crown, + I can feel you here, + haunting what once was me. + + -kel + + + + HOW TO WRITE POETRY: AN INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEO + (WITHOUT PICTURES OR SOUND OR AN ANNOYING CASSETTE) + + writing poems is like + growing a garden: + w o r d s + dispersing + s d r o w + and weeding out + unnecessary punctuation - ,,,;;;'''///...<<<:::"""???>>>. + + + writing poems is like + having a baby: + puuussshhh! + puuussshhh! + pop! - + out comes a poem. + + + writing poems is like + receiving a massage: + someone's heartbeat + n + u c + o e + b s + + through those finger + t + i + p + s - + rhythm in each stanza. + + + writing poems is like + making sunset love: + (censored) + + Indiana Poet June 30, 1998 + + + + forthcoming + + winding down a solo train + switching feet to ease the pain + lit only by fluorescent rain + life's allegory aches for gain + + fingers always in my eyes + picking out the ticks and flies + and halfway through i realize + there can't be truths without some lies + + a wincing pain, my head i hold + i ate it whole, i ate it cold + it baffles all, both young and hold + that one hath dared to break their mold + + the glass is scratched and tinted grey + it shatters, forming an array + forboding, telling of the day + and it will come, when they will pay + + Ve Magni + + + + Hydrogen Ball + + There it was up in the clouds, + burning orange and gray. + The glorified ugly demise, + of another day. + + It's colors changing constantly, + turn to blue and black. + Just like the sky's been bruised, + the demon's coming back. + + Bringing hell along with him, + again darkness will reign. + Shadows seem to drift away, + a darkened stain remains. + + It's cold and damp, it's dark outside, + surrounded by our sorrow. + The people pray in vain and hope, + to see the light tomorrow. + + But then the sky comes alive, + as clouds are blown away. + Midnight came and left again, + he left his pseudo-day. + + Light from this glowing mass, + reflects upon the night. + The sphere mirror seems to shine, + but stars put up a fight. + + Speckled lights across the sky, + are faint but plain to see. + A hole of light is brighter though, + it dances down to me. + + It's rises high above this mess, + then falls back down below. + Again the sky is cold and black, + this emptiness I know. + + On the verge of suicide, + the shining ball arrives. + This mass of burning hydrogen, + has burned into my eyes... + + Levi + + + + extremely violent dreams in an otherwise serene life + haunted by my own death, i continue on + perusing backlit beach framed on the wall + listening to accursed music from the floor + a sullen image frozen in mind + liquid silver tears blaze a new trail + and they tell me to let it go.... + + mea_culpa + + + + SEARCHING: + + Through the depths of darkness & despair + Some days I wish I am not there + Other days I drift around + Consumed by misery, and love not found + + Life so diminutive, pain prolonged + Tell me lord, what have I done so wrong + + Meet a man so sweet and nice + He slices my heart up, with a knife + I have these delusions, my minds not the same + I guess it's a feeling, which comes with the pain + + Imagine my surprise as life rushes by + Makes me think, that I just want to die + + But I fight and struggle to get away + My soul will die if I decide to stay + I'll keep on dreaming of a life so sweet + Maybe find, treasured moments to keep. + + Blaise + + ------------------------------------------------------- + E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com + ------------------------------------------------------- + to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to + majordomo@sekurity.org with "subscribe poetry". if + you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, + send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. + ------------------------------------------------------- + A V A I L A B I L I T Y: + AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY + WWW: http://www.sekurity.org/~poetry + ------------------------------------------------------- + (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. + ------------------------------------------------------- + F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997 + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckplst.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckplst.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6a92eb60 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCK/fuckplst.txt @@ -0,0 +1,106 @@ + + F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S + ------------------------------------------------------- + - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - + ------------------------------------------------------- + + +001 magnetic poetry i. demonika + regarding inner turmoil dis + untitled kamira + I'm not as messed up... rage + +002 Interlude demonika + regarding music dis + right now (anon) kamira + Amnesia legion + Can we say, non-sequitur? rage + +003 Fluttering Ideas kamira + magnetic poetry ii. demonika + Family Values legion + cursory dis + bluerose + rage + +004 fuck poetry simunye + chosen paths krystalia + rage + Delusions kamira + as i am demonika + where there's a WILL... dis + +005 The Devil Herself styx + rage + mishappinessery nightshade + samurai dis + bbang demonika + A Cry kamira + +006 The Red Hand Screamin' Lord Byron + I Stand in The Darkness Trix + magnetic poetry III (various guests of dis) + rage + map of my night dis + +007 The Writers Poem voyager + antithesis demonika + mp5 dis + rage (anon) kamira + half-mast styx + +008 Flippant! Dodger + KEYBOARD LOVERS FTF + FINGERTIP CHORDS Indiana Poet + 748.2153 dis + +009 Linda... FTF + Untitled and Unfinished Screamin' Lord Byron + rage + an example of a bad poem styx + No Particular Order dis + +010 sadia + ORGANIC EMOTION Indiana Poet + Someone's Watching Over Me Kamira + Hypocrite! dis + untitled rage + +011 To Someone anonymous + To You Kamira + SURVEYING THE GIRL GRIDDLE Indiana Poet + regarding religion dis + rage + +012 no title rage + TEMPO FOR TEARS (IN STEREO) ip + LIFE satanhell + King of Wishful Thinking kamira + erotica (or dedication to shane) dis + +013 May I Have This Dance? krystalia + GOODNIGHT AMERICAN YOUTH Indiana Poet + Poetry in Action Screamin' Lord Byron + the need to feel dis + Race with No Face Kamira + +014 VENOM Bluerose + RESOLVE: HOW TO ACCENTUATE TRUTH Indiana Poet + Fire Within Kamira + when i'm god sadia + The Side Show Freak Screamin'Lord Byron + White Anger dis + +015 HOLIBLAZE Indiana Poet + untitled sadia + Strangers bluerose + untitled anonymous + My two best friends Kamira + +016 HATE bluerose + From the Ambush dave + MOIST DARKNESS indiana poet + untitled Sadia + Don't Call Me Sweetheart me, myself, and I + 11-8-97 dis + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT.1 b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT.1 new file mode 100644 index 00000000..567173e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT.1 @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ + +T E X T F I L E S + +

+FUCT Magazine (1993) +

+

+ + +
+
Filename +Size +Description of the Textfile
fuct-001.can 4773
 FUCT Issue #1 (March 23, 1993) +
fuct-002.txt 8316
 FUCT Issue #2 (May 1, 1993) +
fuct-003.txt 17180
 FUCT Issue #3 (June 1, 1993) +

There are 3 files for a total of 30,269 bytes.

+ + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/.windex.html b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/.windex.html new file mode 100644 index 00000000..ce854e9a --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/.windex.html @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ + +T E X T F I L E S + +

+FUCT Magazine (1993) +

+

+ + +
+
Filename +Size +Description of the Textfile
fuct-001.can 4773
 FUCT Issue #1 (March 23, 1993) +
fuct-002.txt 8316
 FUCT Issue #2 (May 1, 1993) +
fuct-003.txt 17180
 FUCT Issue #3 (June 1, 1993) +

There are 3 files for a total of 30,269 bytes.

+ + + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-001.can b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-001.can new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d28b84c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-001.can @@ -0,0 +1,204 @@ + + + [CanceR1993] + Presents: + FucT#001 + {3/23/93} + + + Ŀ + Table Of Contents + + Intro...............What is FucT + Page 1.................206 Tones + Page 2.................800 Tones + Page 3..................Carriers + Page 4............Hackable VMB's + Page 5....................Boards + CanceR + + + + + + + + +INTRO + + + CanceR introduces FucT a monthly magazine based on H/P/A/V.With each + issue contaning everything from A-Z.To join CanceR or to submit some- + thing for future issues contact Jester Of Chaos on one of the boards + later in this issue. + + This first issue is limited since I'm just getting CanceR of the ground + and I can only do so much(or so little as the case may be).Ok well so + much for small talk hehehehehe.Oh and remember God is dead... + +[PAGE 1] + Tones for all my fellow 206'ers... + + 623XXXX + +XXXX= +9209 1537 6390 1029 0011 1161 7102 1495 8797 5511 +7153 7627 8407 3051 9727 2229 0291 0983 9017 3449 +2863 3567 6293 6850 9833 4558 9657 2716 4216 2314 +4498 4556 9714 6488 + + 625XXXX + +XXXX= +1867 6503 9244 9481 8069 8259 6898 6880 7615 8662 +4527 1065 6393 6852 4231 0390 6502 3254 6296 6682 + + 979XXXX + +XXXX= +6476 6941 3265 9208 1454 5260 4375 7616 2466 0903 +5530 4179 4713 0242 9854 0159 4691 0368 9443 0565 +4257 3657 4617 1538 1717 1155 5487 6420 7570 2349 +4271 9480 2624 9554 1924 6994 3249 9418 4541 3433 +3889 7878 6468 5143 1694 9883 6067 4958 9334 7881 +5843 4867 6181 7516 5723 7898 8834 9020 9338 9656 +4592 0899 3719 7441 6363 8073 7429 1887 0132 8024 +6393 2527 6867 2608 5684 8995 5320 2553 6387 2242 +4056 9841 9241 5512 5204 1249 0972 6651 0537 6568 + + + +[PAGE 2] + + The following are all 800 tones... + + 1800388XXXX + +XXXX= +4144 8071 2283 7453 1911 5078 5354 6924 5039 9592 +2382 0052 1967 + + 1800777XXXX + +XXXX= +4494 9117 0913 5219 1845 1080 1007 + + 1800333XXXX + +XXXX= +6354 6002 2032 2491 9592 + + 1800368XXXX + +XXXX= +8235 5348 6907 9470 4140 1025 5113 1856 9215 2222 + + 1800461XXXX + +XXXX= +0106 3214 7299 0372 1747 0080 6130 7229 3472 + + 1800877XXXX + +XXXX= +5748 0327 4586 2672 8000 + + MISCTONES1800XXXXXXX + +XXXXXXX= +3235555 2331011 6333407 6668894 3676546 +3367800 4334778 8778000 + + +[PAGE 3] + Carriers....All once again are 800's... + + 1800XXXXXXX + +XXXXXXX= +6665002 9990983 9997004 7779999 8886907 +5458770(cbi) 3338354 3881034 3882827 8881883 +8882936 8882222 8000329 8001034 2345127 +2345137 + + CCChecker + 8005541111 + Bank#:2009 + Merchant#:210058418 + +Also try this on Tymnet... + +Login:pc link +Pw:link it + +Then it will give you a + then say Quantum Call Connected then just sit +there.See what you can do with it. + + +[PAGE 4] + Hackable VMB's... + + 1800XXXXXXX + +XXXXXXX= +2344630 2344360 4267001 6665766 8005417 +8004273 9504515 + + 1800333XXXX + +XXXX= +0144 0334 8671 7595 1998 0136 2222 4519 + + 1800477XXXX + +XXXX= +8834 0596 9950 0220 7793 7333 0744 1232 + + 1800888XXXX + +XXXX= +8865 6435 2376 2332 1034 + + + +[PAGE 5] + Here are some Kick ass boards to call and to reach me on... + + + 13th ave. Plaza The Thinnest Line + 2067670175 2068742176 + H/P/A/V/C H/P/A/V/C + Sysop:Candy Man Sysop:Sandlewood + + Psychedelic Solusions + 9087308633 + H/P/0-7 Day Wares + Sysop:Mr Yuck + + + + +GREETSGOOUTTO +Candy Man +Arsonist +Sandlewood +SimStim +Faust +Mr. Yuck +And all of the c64 H/P'rs still alive.(God fillet thier souls) + + Ŀ + + + + + + + Ŀ + Ŀ + + + CanceR1993 + + C.1993 CanceR + diff --git a/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-002.txt b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-002.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b4222b7f --- /dev/null +++ b/textfiles.com/magazines/FUCT/fuct-002.txt @@ -0,0 +1,251 @@ + + + Ŀ + CanceRPresents + FucT#002 + 050193 + + + + + + Ŀ + TableofContents + Ĵ + Page 1................Intro + Page 2....Jerrald Cable Box + Page 3..........800 Numbers + Page 6.........In The World + Page 7............Address's + Page 8..........Member List + Page 9..........Dist. Sites + Page 10..............Endtro + Ĵ + CanceR93 + + + + + + + + Page 1 + + + [INTRO] + + Ok this section was put hear to help clarify what CanceR is.For one thing + FucT is not a group,it is a magazine.Second CanceR are the writers of the + mag,and if there is a group out there called FucT(not to my knowledge any + ways)then oh-well.Also another thing whats the fuck is up with this group + RoT? I started RoT about 6 months ago as a wares joke group.Now what do I + see but some dude named Deicide(a name I made up for a RoT member)release + ing H/P stuff.Hmmm very weird shit,but the shit I saw didn't look bad.So + if you see this Deicide(if thats your name) then call up one of the CanceR + sites and tell me whats up with RoT.Reign of Terror.I even made that part + up,at least you could have thought of something else. + + JoC/CanceR + + + + +Page 2 + [Jerrald Cable Boxing] + + This document is about the famous but, not popular Jerrald 400 Cable boxes. + Ok to start out this box is for cable and Pay Per View.It's not the old scam + to get free HBO this really works and is up to date.Some places to find the + boxes are at Swap Meets or maybe garage sales.These boxes were released in + the late 80's for the purpose of a normal box for basic cable.But they never + knew you could get all cable.The box is already set up for HBO,Cinemax,Show- + time etc.etc. But this is to help you get the Pay Per View switch to work... + + + Make sure to look for the 400. + ############################### + # General # + # Instruments # + # #02# Jerrold 400 # + ############################### + 2-Channel + Above diagram is front of box. + + Diagram of switches where Pay Per View is located... + + ################################################## + # | | | | | | () | | | # + #------------------------------------------------# + # | | | | | | () | | | # + #------------------------------------------------# + # | | | | | | | | | # + #------------------------------------------------# + # | | | | | | | | | # + ################################################## + Put the chip or risister where the () are.. Simple + instructions:If you buy one of these from the address + listed later then it will have this shit done already. + + + +Page 3 + [800 Numbers/Tones/etc] + +Credit Verification Centers:(1-800-XXX-XXXX) + +Mastercard and Visa...............................292-2730 Merchant #:584079 +Mastercard and Visa..554-2265 Merchant #:24,52...MC=10..Visa=20 Bank ID:1067 +American Express.....................327-1003 Hit:9#...Merchant #:4414813899 +Discover Card.........................223-5656 Merchant #:6011 0138 6001 463 + +Diners Club/Carte Blanche...........................................525-9040 +Citiline (Radio Shack);New Applications.............................248-5463 +Citiline (Radio Shack);Authorizations...............................248-2884 +American Express:Autorizations......................................528-2121 +American Express:Other..............................................327-1005 + +VMBs and Different Shit:(1-800-XXX-XXXX) + +VMB.................................................................888-9920 +Service Master VMB..................................................333-6678 +Aspen/Satanic VMB...................................................666-2447 +4 digit VMB.........................................................999-6678 +PBX 7 Digit.........................................................950-8255 +Diverter(1+1acn)....................................................825-6060 +Misc................................................................388-2335 + +Page 4 + [800 Continued] +Tones(1-800-XXX-XXXX) + +682-6176 428-2947 672-7668 951-1476 370-8078 +295-9071 621-9026 753-5673 667-1349 725-2722 +780-8649 628-1846 260-7068 862-5479 539-2061 +367-2538 437-5006 479-0826 225-3073 562-1601 +782-7247 367-6964 251-6946 282-4841 530-9477 +295-7669 331-3748 639-7952 443-3660 780-2825 +553-0647 262-9685 482-3276 553-2403 461-4113 +521-8186 387-0059 926-9141 972-3656 998-9407 + +(1-800-9XX-XXXX) +26-9629 40-2613 72-8778 32-4269 45-6632 +72-6328 98-7290 52-5780 33-2418 92-1780 +33-7437 22-4617 40-3434 40-1250 72-5605 +92-7699 32-4455 + +(1-800-800-XXXX) + +1316 4664 7645 2145 1182 0344 1104 3459 2937 +1326 7935 0182 6460 1098 0154 + + + + +Page 5 + [800 Continued] + +(1-800-877-XXXX) + +5718 5821 6078 6631 9463 6732 1811 9789 2761 +3146 3516 5125 0681 9858 9565 3695 4133 2689 +8652 0067 + + + + +Page 6 + + [In the World...] + +A few days ago a women in China was executed for hacking a local bank and +embezeling a couple thousand dollars.She and her soon to be husband were +caught at the border trying to leave.Her husband was charged as an accomplis +and was given a stay of execution.Makes ya glad to live in the US. + + + +Page 7 + + [Address's] + +Fox's Spy Outlet(lock picks,chaos goods etc.) +10537 Greenwood Ave. North +Seattle Wa 98133 +(write them they send catalogs) + +Jerrald Cable Boxes(price varies,write for catalog) +Easy View +P.O.Box 221 +Arlington Heights,IL 60006 +(312)952-8504 +Call them and ask for the EASY VIEW PRICE LIST AND CATALOG. + + + +Page 8 + [Member List as of 04/29/93] + +Updated every issue... + +Jester Of Chaos +Candy Man +The Slacker +Inferno +Ice-T +Major Glitch +The Gargoyle +Bane +The Spire +Lineman +Arsonist + + + + + +Page 9 + [Distibution Sites] + +13th Avenue CanceR WHQ.........................................206[FIN-DOUT] +Fractured Reality..............................................206[FIND-ITT] +Silent Screams.................................................819[777-7649] +Concentration Camp Antartica...................................503[762-4012] +Darke Spyre BBS................................................904[756-7535] +Lineman's Lair.................................................417[883-XX10] +Dot Matrixx....................................................819[682-3592] + + + + +Page 10 + [Endtro] + +If your interested in writing for CanceR please fill out the enclosed file +CANCER.APP.And u/l it wherever you got this FucT#002. + +Comming next month... + +FBI Interview +More 800 +And many more things + + + + + + + + + + + + + + C.1993 CanceR + FucT#002 + 05/01/93 + + + + +