The Hacker's Encyclopedia 1998/hackers_encyclopedia.iso/zines/a_m/ati97.txt

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Hola, and welcome to ATI97, October 11, 1997. ATI is now reaching Portugal
each week thanks to Barata Eletrica magazine.
Rather than an editorial this week:
I'm going to start with a poem editorializes
for the-self. I'll be reprinting it in about 3 weeks in an effort to be
"linear" (you probably figured that out already) but I felt this poem will
be mondo-most apropos today. Aqui. Ahora. Ese. Here you go, me voy. (then
we'll have Anarchist World News and a few submissions. Then we'll end with
your regularly scheduled journal-pome. You can call this one a shorty. Be
glad it's not a fatty.
Sincerely yours,
Prime Anarchist, h.a.c.
 - - - - - -                ATI. No Link Left Un-Exp-Lored.  - - - - -

JP #27. by marco

1992 In The Year Of Our
Kristoffer K. Kolumbus.
Dupont Circle, Washington DC.
Buying, selling, trading guitar licks.
Nutty Buddy bar, banana and
Milk is a late night snack.
Passed out in a whirlpool.
Driving into suburbia in a Subaru.
Billy Crystal gets a laugh and a
Cry at the same time, Clown-genius he;
Like sea salt. So delightful.
Washington DC. District of Chinatown.
Hard Rock Cafe has no herbal teas.
Camcorders are rude; here - lemme suck
The whole world into my own eyeball.
Alcohol-free vegan restaurant, activist
Leaning - called the "Sober Black Indian,"
Buddhist nun makes salted plum tea; best
PLUMbing cleaner in the hole wide world.
& Navajo tea with a spoon of honey.
Sal de mer, that sea salt. Mui delicioso.
D.C. Capitol steps District of Collusion.
Meeting Dan Quayle's page, petting his
K-9 Unit MP dog. Tasked everywhere he goes.
His buddy - so no one beats him up.
Wild - wilding. District of Complicity.
1992 In The Year Of Our Knights of Kolumbus.
Rowhouse First and Florida; First & P. Wash. DC.
Tell me the difference between
Hot-tub, whirlpool and jacuzzi.
Chopping wood for sweatlodge.
Waterman, doorman, drum man, medicine.
Toxins clean: better meds than laughter.
National Cathedral, Washington DC.
Cosmic Conversations: Garden of Sweetgrass.
A poem about people who wear purple;
The Paternal order of Poorly Planned
Pious E-Piscopal Presentations.
Well, this IS Turtle Island's ass end.
Yeah, right front foot - walla walla, WA
Left front paw - sunny southern cali-farm-ya
Right rear?? Kenny BushPort, Maine.
Left rear foot divides Miami? Cuba?
& Turtle takes another big tinkle on
District of Kolumbus.

    *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

PAWN
(prime anarchist world newz)
WASH - MILLION DOG MARCH GOES UNNOTICED
Disagreement Over How Many Dogs Dug in During Demonstrations.
   It was Sunday, October 5, at 9pm in the Washington Mall. The Red Cross
said 1.2 million dogs had gathered to bay for hours at the halfmoon and
renew their commitment to their masters and their families.
   But Mall Security gave their usual official count of between 300K and
750,000 dogs.
   "A couple million for sure," said official Million Dog March leader
Ralph G. Rover, "but who's counting?"
   "Here we are 1.2 million strong," said spokesdog Muhommat Lasi, "and
no one can stop us." He went on to say they were going to pee on every
firehydrant, statue, and slow moving pedestrian they could find.
   Rin Tin Tin sang the national anthem, Benji said the interdognominational
prayer while Felix the Cat, Miss Piggy and Jerry Seinfeld were all ordained
with the new title "honorary-man's-best-friend."
   The interactive sound system, parking and waste removal services were
provided by Bill Gates, Inc.
   All dogs were instructed to bring their own fannypacks full of vegetarian
organic gourmet kibbles-n-bits so their urine could be extra yellow for the
event.
   Rover and McGruff the Crime Dog are planning a lawsuit to force Mall
Security to admit that more than a million dogs had come for the events.
Capacity to the mall is well over 2 million dogs (1 million in peoplefeet)
and Mall Security is on the record saying it was almost completely full
but they refuse to say there were more than 750,000 in anything but an
"off the record" release.
   "That's a lot of tongue licking, butt sniffing, wood chip scratching dog
turnout," said Mall Security spokesanimal Captain Cat Woman, "but I hold
to my 'under-a-million' figure."
   Woman went on to say how proud she was that dogs are going to make a
renewed commitment to supporting their families.
   "Hope it happens," said Woman. "Hope it happens."
            -30-

   ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

         <><><>  VONNEGUT CALLS DIANA UGLY   <><><>
Stiltshire, ENGLAND - Curtis Utensil. Special to the PAWN. Photos by Abbie
Kunstler.
   Kurt Vonnegut, true to his irreverant style, said he won't mourn Princess
Diana's death.
   This came as a shock to the whole family, according to the Queen who was
astonished Vonnegut had the unmitigated gall, and "audacious balls of fire"
to make his announcement during the open-casket ceremonies.
   "I mean look at her," said Vonnegut into a loudspeaker looking down into
the gold-veneered 7-foot long silver studded box.
   "I mean she's so tall and lanky, got the honker from hell, and look.
Little bugs are eating at her and stuff. For a blond, that's one ugly chick."
   Vonnegut mentioned that the Queen's comment offended him. "What does
she expect me to wait until AFTER the ceremonies?? Let's wait a whole week,
then. Then I'll talk. I know. 'Look, now there's mushrooms and maggots all
over her, let's all mourn how much we miss her infested flea-bitten soul.'"
   Vonnegut says he doesn't care who he may have offended. He called the
entire Royal Family a "looney bunch of whining old crazies," while at the
same time thanking them for inviting him.
   "You've seen my works. I mince no words," he told the paparazzi after the
funeral, while ramming his 1972 100cc BMW motor scooter into a camera
tripod.
   "What'd you expect me to say she was pretty? Nice? Selfless?? A people
person?! Hell with her. Fuck all of you. She's dead. Get over it!!!"
   Vonnegut's next novel, entitled "SCISSOR TONGUE" is due out next Friday
in paperback. He claims to have started it a week ago.
         -#-

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a day in a life (one of many) of a pot-smoker    by sisyphus   previously
                                      published in a recent hygienic fixx.
   I woke this morning at 5:30. I rose at 8:15. No aches or pains, no
hangovers, nothing left over, just early morning bemusement. Pee'd, washed,
drank fruit juice and started coffee heating. (Coffee IS addictive, I've
recently found out. I hadn't had to go without coffee in years. At least. I
found myself getting downright cranky. Not to mention not shitting right.
Which, I suppose, would make ANYbody cranky.) Looked outside. Everything was
still frozen. but the cold was moderating. The car was where I left it in
the backyardparkinglot. There was squirrels in the trees, thinking on
heading for the ground. J.A.C.S. was still sleeping. I let him lie and waited
on the coffee. Put sugar and cream in the coffeecup. The squirrels got
bolder. The coffee steamed and the squirrels got bolder still. I poured the
coffee, stirred it and opened the upstairs back door. JACS was there before
I had the back hall light on, but as he'd just got up, he wasn't bounding
up and down the stairs at his usual wont. "Well, this works just fine," I
thought. I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and he was off like
a shot. So were the squirrels. JACS sailed over the fence at the back of
the parking lot and sailed back. Then down along the fence and up the other
side. Over again at least once and then HE went and pee'd. I figured my
coffee had cooled enough so I whistled him in and went and drank it. I
suppose I should say my head was full of thoughts on the coming day, or that
I got some sort of moral from JACS's early morning jaunt, but I didn't. I
just went in and called my favorite BBS (Gemstone) to get my morning
TradeWars turns in. The line was busy. So I called the MindPort dial-up and
checked on my e-mail. 17. About half-and-half from the Ohmies echo and from
the Fantasy-L writers newsletter. And one message to me from Mark-O Frucht.
  (ed. note: who the hell is that???) It wasn't about Steven Vincent Benet
& James Merrill. Only commentary on his most recent cross-country hop
(Connecticut to Wisconsin) and that it'd cost him $800 to repair the car
enroute. (Well, Mark's more responsible than Cassady & Kerouac) I answered
his letter, looked throught the alt.herbs, alt.native, and rec.backcountry
newsgroups and remembered that I had to move the car before 9.
(TO BE CONTINUED NEXT ISSUE...)

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The DUMPSTER.TXT file. By Aaron K. Trashing Engineer Extroardinaire.
If you're travelling along the northern Ohio turnpike and you get the aching
hungry feeling in your stomach, but you don't want to give your hard earned
cash to the evil mega multi-national fast food industry (because you'd feel
guilty once you got to the environmental conference in PA) then I've got a
tip for you! As I can tell, every single service stop is identically
designed, so after a couple stops you should have this down pat.
While the rest of your crew is checking out the bathrooms, slip out the back
of the service stop, going past the water fountain (there's only one water
fountain at the service stops, so you'll know it when you see it.) and out
around back. While scanning around for people especially workers, take a
left, and continue acting non-chalant. Within moments, you'll arrive at a
dumpster, which upon careful examination should reveal a heaping quantity
of almost fresh donuts. Generally there is only one person who can even see
you, and that's whomever is working in the gas booth out at the back of the
service stop. Generally I think they are facing the other way. So even the
self conscious dumpster diver, can feel safe and secure about diving in
plain daylight in the middle of a major turnpike. To summarize. I think
every service stop has a Dunkin Donuts. DD is well known for tossing out all
the donuts they have on their rack and replacing them several times a day.
(ed note: that's Michael Vele's job)
And they put them in a dumpster. For maximum effect, make some prior mention
of dumpster diving just as you pull into the service stop, and then when
you rejoin your friends, walktowards them non-chalantly holding a donut in
one hand whistling.    Aaron.

POLL II (in 2-d)
What's your favorite town to dumpster dive in?
Send all votes to      [e-mail]
I'll publish results in the next 3 ATI's.
Prime Anarchist's personal fave town to trash is Taos, NM.
Especially nearest the Main Street Bakery. Mmmmm. I can smell the organic
crackedwheat breads now.

OK we end with another poem from Warrior Poets Society.
WPS east is located at:
http://www.angelfire.com/wi/kokopeli/WARR.html
Why do we end with a poem?
Cause after all is said and done, myth's all ya got.

JOURNAL POEM 25 by 23-no-government (a k a  prime anarchist)

Pour you a cup of columbian in
Coffeeville, Kansas; thinking,
Now here's a town more worthy
Of that "Beantown" nickname.

Them badlands'll take your
Feet if you'll let 'em.
They call'm "El Morro."
He's taken dogs, horses,
Tiretreads & wagonwheels.
So, watch your feet.

Methodist pastor folds his feet
Under his legs, smoking the pipe
With the circle -- not preaching.
With the people -- purely
Prayerful purely fellowship.
Powerful pipe that Chanupa.

After smoking is almost always eating.
Over frybread and milkweed greens,
Zuni children teach me every swear
They know from their own language.

"OUR MISSION - YOUR FUTURE," warns
Fort Leavenworth's front sign.
Barely legible 'neath all those
Wirebarbs. Hmmm, I think. Telling...

         -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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Send all submissions, letters to the editor and lovenotes to:
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or click on the homepage at:
http://www.angelfire.com/wi/kokopeli/ATI.html

http://www.angelfire.com/wi/kokopeli/cygnus.html
for back issues and to order t-shirts, hats and Cap 'n Crunch whistles.
Hurry there's only  _  left.

Call 860-887-2600 ext. 5293 to hollar at the Prime Anarchist.

And remember, 2morrow is international "DO NOTHING" day,
So get out there and like they say in NIKEland,
"Just do it."