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- Please contact me if you do not receive 3 parts. The last lines of Parts
- 1 & Parts 2 should read "end of part X"
-
- I recommend displaying/printing this document in a monospaced
- font such as Courier. Your choice, though.
-
-
-
- CRANK #2
-
- 28 pages of good news, love & happiness.
-
- 1 Intelligent Religious Discourse
- 2 And You Call Yourselves Anarchists?
- 3 Interview with a Killer
- 4 I LOVE JESUS!
- 5 LOOK HERE FOR A COOL SERIAL KILLER ARTICLE!
- 5 I'm an admitted pervert
- 6 Screw Women (#1)
- 7 I Hate Sports. So What?
- 11 Man's Best Friend is Still a Dumb Animal, After All
- 12 Ah, to be so SWANK.
- 13 Rampant millenarianism: THE END IS UPON US!
- 15 My life, my fun, pal (REVIEWS! REVIEWS! REVIEWS!)
- 18 Dave nd Buster's: Neo-Fascists or just Texas-Style Screws?
- 19 Head like a Hole (and then some)
- 20 DIY Trepanation
- 22 Black & Decker gets hassled
- 23 A 3-page, Illustrated Guide to DIY Trepanation
- 26 Screw Women (#2)
- 26 CONTEST
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 1.
-
- Hey Jerry Falwell: Suck My Ass You Useless Shitbag.
-
- (Note for electronic readers: The above was printed in 122 pt. Futura
- Extra Bold Condensed type, kerned real tight, PMS 072. Quite
- striking, actually.)
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 2.
-
- A continuing by-product of Jeff
-
- Well, well, well. Number Two. Keep 'em coming, barkeep. God bless
- clip art. And booze.
-
- The Usual Crap
- ==============
- Crank may be used and reproduced however you deem appropriate-
- -just keep the copyright intact. Advertising in CRANK is cheap. Write
- for info. Advertising barters will be considered, I guess. I do not: Do
- Lunch, Touch Base, Interface, Confirm, Point Things Out FYI,
- Brainstorm, or Check In. And, as a rule, I do not like people who do
- those things.
-
- Thanks to: Amy Nathanson; Tom Bielavitz; Jeff Fox; my day job;
- Tower; Blacklist; distributors of Crank-E; anyone who responded with
- kind words; and you for the marginal interest.
-
- Appreciated contributors to this issue:
-
- Vinnie Jordan: Interview with a Killer, p. 3
- Tom Bielavitz: Dog Stories, p. 11
- Dennis McGee: Trepaning Artwork, p. 23
- Unappreciated contributors:
- Dave & Buster's: The fascism behind p. 18
-
- ----------------------
-
- PO Box 1646 - Philadelphia PA 19105-1646
- or Crank@aol.com (see page 22)
-
- Crank logo, icons & contents (c) 1994 Jeff Koyen, except contributions
- by the above authors/artists, who retain the copyrights to their
- work.
- the horror. the horror.
-
-
- Names I should have chosen--rather than CRANK--that would have
- attracted media attention and ensured national distribution:
-
- Die, Dave Pirner, Die
- Catch a Cold, Evan Dando, Catch a Cold
- Mouth Rape Minors
- MTV Sucks Ass
- Skull Fuck the Virgin Mother
- Newsweek
- Wired
- Fugazi
- i fuck dogs
- I Am Going To Kill The President
-
-
-
- Anarchists: The Same, Old Hippie Shit
- -------------------------------------
-
- Could be that I'm naive. I'm willing to admit it if, indeed, I am. But I
- don't think I am. Not this time anyway.
-
- Wasn't there a day when anarchy meant a lack of central control?
- Lack of government? And--more importantly--a violent upheaval of
- the existing organizational structures in order to achieve a perfect
- (utopian) society? Yeh, that's what I thought it used to mean. It don't
- mean that any more, I tell you.
-
- The self-declared anarchists that walk the streets today are nothing
- more than too-cool, punk-rock hippies playing themselves off as
- lovers of anarchy. Their literature is about feeding and sheltering the
- homeless. Their pamphlets ALWAYS talk about Nicaragua and the
- injustices put upon the people by totalitarian governments. They
- scream about the oppression facing fellow human beings worldwide.
- You know what you sound like, you anarchistic windbags? FUCKING
- HIPPIES. Fucking hippies fighting for the rights of the impoverished.
- Pioneering housing for all. YOU'RE NOTHING BETTER THAN REHASHED
- HIPPIE GARBAGE.
-
- Seventy years ago, they had the right idea. Bombings, sniping,
- murders, riots. An effort for TRUE anarchy. But today, we're stuck
- with the money kids, the squatters who can afford not to squat, and
- two dozen other variations of shitbags wearing that fucking Anarchy
- "A" on their leathers jackets, all worrying about equality for mankind
- and feeding the homeless.
-
- I see them everywhere, from the garden-variety teenager in the
- mall, to the dirty poet in the coffee house. What do they have in
- common? (Goatees, generally, but that's something else.) They all
- dress alike. Anarchists? YOU ALL LOOK THE SAME! You dress in torn
- clothes, dirty t-shirts and Doc Martens, with nose rings of course.
- You've got a very TRIBAL tattoo that means Eat Me in some dead
- Native American tongue. You don't seem to drink much, don't ever
- seem to loosen up from your idealist stance. And--don't forget--
- you're all either vegetarians, or you don't eat beef. You know what I
- eat? WHATEVER I CAN AFFORD THAT DAY, FUCKER. Sometimes it's
- plain spaghetti, sometimes it's take-out Chinese with enough beef to
- clog 10 colons. Christ, you're all so PREDICTABLY ALIKE. And
- HOMOGENEITY has got to be the furthest thing from anarchy that I
- can fathom.
-
- Worse yet, you're so fucking smug and self-righteous. I figure that
- anyone BOLD enough to declare themselves in favor of Anarchy
- should be willing to take the heat. You should be willing (and
- intelligent enough) to listen to contrary opinions, and then decide for
- yourself if you agree. And if you don't agree, THEN DON'T AGREE. One
- magazine I found with the Anarchy "A" in the title declares that "We
- encourage you to take the initiative to express yourself, but don't
- bother to send us any racist, sexist or otherwise hateful material."
- THEN HOW THE FUCK CAN I EXPRESS MYSELF? Do you want poetry
- about the stars in the sky? Stories about my cat? Prose describing
- my empathy for the oppressed? Anecdotes of how I tried to educate
- 20 children in the Peace Corp? ALL IN THE NAME OF ANARCHY?? I
- can't write about that shit. I am able to write about very few things:
- working all the time but still being broke, surviving hard nights of
- drinking in spite of myself, and rejecting ideas AFTER LISTENING TO
- THEM WITH AN OPEN MIND.
-
- Anarchy? You want anarchy? Go LIVE in Nicaragua. Or, better yet, go
- to Bosnia and try to house the homeless over there. See how much
- good your thorough knowledge of Ginsberg and Creeley does you?
- You're all full of shit. You're all just a bunch of hipster fucks who
- fancy yourselves fringe. And as soon as you get out of school, or as
- soon as the SCENE dries up and it's no longer fashionable to be you,
- then you'll dye that hair back to brown, hit the Gap for a pair of
- Khakis, get that job, and pay your own rent. Just like the rest of us
- working shits.
-
- Fuck you.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 3.
-
- Interview with a Killer
- -----------------------
-
- Provided by Vinnie Jordan (vinniej@sco.com)
-
- The following is a transcript of an interview with teen killer Alvin
- Harper, accused in the murder of his aunt, Thelma Kidd. Harper is a
- slightly built youth, seemingly incapable of the crimes of which he
- has been accused. As is the case with all these types of interviews,
- the dialogue by the police has been left out, leaving only the words
- of the suspect.
-
- ============================
-
- "My name is Alvin Harper, and I make this statement of my own free
- will."
-
- "Listen, do you think they're going to send me to prison? God, I'm
- only 16, but they said they were going to try me as an adult. Oh, shit!
- What am I going to do?"
-
- "You have to understand, this woman was the most sadistic person I
- have heard of or met in my life. When Mom died, she stipulated that
- she wanted me to go and live with Thel. I knew she was an alcoholic,
- and I know she had been through two bad marriages, but she had
- always treated me well. I guess you really don't know someone until
- you live under the same roof. Had I known what she was really like,
- I'd have surely run away."
-
- "She used to beat me anytime and for any reason. Mom died when I
- was 12, and life was complicated enough, but she slapped me right
- after I moved in with her for saying I missed Mom. She said 'She's
- dead, and it's time you moved on with life. Dead!! Do you
- understand?!' I just thought I had caught her at a bad moment. But it
- was only the first in a long string of violent episodes. She was a big
- woman, as you probably know, 5'10", and she outweighed me by 80
- pounds."
-
- "I was a real good student up until this tragedy. I was making all A's
- in my studies, but I wasn't any good at organized sports. She said if I
- didn't improve my grades in gym, she was going to punish me. That's
- how she referred to any kind of abuse, as my punishment. Sure
- enough, when I got my report card, I had a D in gym. She grabbed
- me by the wrist and twisted it as she dragged me over to the stove.
- It was one of those electric ones, and she placed my palm on it, then
- turned it on. You can see the scar."
-
- (At this point, Harper holds out his hand. Indeed, there is a large
- burn scar on the palm.)
-
- "One time, I forgot to take out the trash, and she came up on me,
- quietly. She moved like a cat for a large woman, at least when she
- was sober. Anyway, she snuck up on me and punched me in the ear.
- My equilibrium was off for nearly a week, and my hearing is still
- affected from it. This is no isolated condition. It happened with
- frightening regularity."
-
- "Why didn't I report her to the authorities? Aren't you listening to
- me? The woman was dangerous, sadistic!! You know as well as I do
- that Protective Services usually ends up returning kids to their
- parents or guardians after the most perfunctory of investigations.
- And where would I be then? In the hands of an angry sadist."
-
- "OK, I'm getting to it! So that last night, I was late coming home from
- school. I tried to sneak in, but it looked like I had lucked out, and
- Aunt Thel wasn't home. I crossed the kitchen when I felt this
- stinging on my back, like I had been stung by the world's biggest
- bee, and I turned to find her holding a belt by the wrong end, so the
- buckle was the portion that struck me. She swung again, and again,
- and had me on the floor, with my arm up in a half-hearted attempt
- to defend myself."
-
- "When I awoke, I didn't know how long I had been out. It was dark
- now, and I was bleeding from several gashes on my back. The bitch
- had left me there on the floor, and it was cold while at the same time
- the raw skin on my back was burning. Out in the living room, I could
- hear the TV going, and I saw a half-empty bottle of whiskey hanging
- from her limp arm. Drunk again, and hadn't even checked to see how
- I was. That was when I decided to do what I did."
-
- "I dragged myself up from the floor with a lot of pain. Look at this!"
- (He lifts up his shirt, and there are several long streaks of bruised
- flesh, giving an indication of how bad they must have been 10 days
- ago at the time of the murder.)
-
- "Anyway, I dragged myself to my feet, and went to the kitchen and
- got into the utensil drawer. I took out the ice pick and started off
- into the living room. It was at this time that I almost talked myself
- out of it. But a drop of blood had flowed all the way from my back to
- my fingertips, and fell all the way to the floor. I looked at it, and
- thought if I didn't do something soon, she was going to kill me."
-
- "As I entered the living room, I could hear her snoring softly. The
- area around her head was cloying with the smell of alcohol fumes
- and halitosis. As a heavy drinker, that aroma was not uncommon.
- Her gums were receding from the constant burning away of skin
- from drinking straight whiskey, and her breath smelled like she ate
- carrion for breakfast, all the time. Her head was bent slightly
- forward, and I plunged the ice pick into the back of her neck. It was
- eerie. Her pelvis lifted off the chair with such force that it jerked the
- pick out of my hand as she flew out of the chair and landed on her
- belly on the floor. I thought at first that she was dead, but then I
- heard her making mewling type sounds. I must have hit some nerve
- or something, because she seemed to be paralyzed, though she still
- seemed to have feeling. I poked her in the leg with the ice pick, and
- sure as hell, she made that mewling sound again. For just a moment,
- I thought about calling an ambulance."
-
- "Yeah, you're right. I should have let it go at that. But something just
- came over me when I realized that she was helpless, and all the old
- anger from years of abuse. I remember everything, but was out of
- control of my faculties. I was no more able to stop the next sequence
- of events than I would be to stop my bladder function."
-
- "I dragged her limp form to a sitting position. She could barely sit up
- because of her stomach being so big, but since she was paralyzed, I
- was able to force her into a sitting position, although there was much
- creaking of stretched muscles and cracking vertebrae. She looked at
- me with the same pleading look I had given her when she had
- beaten me. Her head was lolled over to one side, and a thin run of
- spit ran out of the side of her mouth. I leaned toward her, smiled,
- and spit right in her eye. It ran down the side of her face. Then, I
- took a step back, and reared back and kicked her directly in the
- center of her chest. She went back and hit her head on the floor. I
- looked in her eyes. She was awake."
-
- "Why did I sodomize her? Revenge, I guess. It seemed the ultimate
- insult to someone who had caused me so much pain. She seemed to
- be trying to scream, whether in pain or shame, I guess we'll never
- know. And to be honest, it doesn't matter, as long as it was pain,
- emotional or physical."
-
- "No, I guess I wasn't done yet. I dragged her and into the kitchen. As
- I said, she was a big woman, but I had never felt so physically
- strong. I draped her fat ass face down over one of the kitchen
- chairs."
-
- (Note: The suspect is becoming agitated as he tells this part of his
- story)
-
- "By this time, I was out of control. I wanted to be sure she was still
- with me, so I heated up a kitchen knife and applied it to her left
- nipple, which was hanging over the chair. She had big tits. Not nice
- tits, But big saggy ones that went with the rest of her big saggy body.
- Anyway, she was still with me. The heat applied to the nipple
- brought the loudest noise I had heard from her since she was hitting
- me with that goddamned belt. I couldn't think of what to do next,
- and as I looked down at her big fat ass, with the old stained
- sphincter staring up at me, I decided to finish her in the most vile
- way I could think of."
-
- (Suspect is breathing hard, and flushed. I ask him if he wants to rest.
- He says no, and we continue.)
-
- "So, I go to the cabinet and take out the cooking lard. I spread it all
- over my right arm, up to the elbow. Then I slathered it all over her
- asshole. I thought about just reaching in and yanking her fucking
- colon out. But she deserved more than that. At this point, I couldn't
- let her off easy. So, I spread her cheeks and just started punching at
- her sphincter. I wondered if the lard would allow my clenched fist
- inside. I just kept punching as hard as I could, until I lost count. I
- was caught up in some sort of frenzy, and I just kept punching. I was
- about to give up, when the wall of her rectum caved in, and my fist
- slid inside her. Problem was, my thumb was bent back when my arm
- had entered the rectal cavity, and it was stuck. It felt as if it was
- badly torn, too. I tried to pull my arm out, but the pain was so
- intense I couldn't move my arm more than an inch in either
- direction."
-
- "So what am I supposed to do? I gritted my teeth and pulled as hard
- as I could. I could see the blood, probably mixed with her shit,
- dripping out of the opening of her asshole where my fist was buried.
- I started to panic, because I was afraid of bile and poison getting into
- my bloodstream from the open wound. So, I put my foot against her
- ass, held my breath, and yanked as hard as I could."
-
- "The last mental reaction I had was to squeeze my hand shut, and as
- my hand exited her rectum, it closed onto a handful of flesh, and
- although it was probably the most pain I have ever felt, including
- the beatings that bitch gave me, I was rewarded with about a foot
- and a half of that cunt's colon hanging out of her ass."
-
- "Then, I looked in her eyes. They were still open, but the light had
- gone out of them. She was dead. I was unsure of what to do then. So,
- I called you guys."
-
- "Remorse? No. I feel no remorse."
-
- ============================
-
- Alvin Harper was convicted of first degree murder, sodomy and
- aggravated assault. He was found criminally insane, and sentenced to
- the psychiatric unit of Vacaville Prison in Central California.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 4.
-
- The "I'm Already Going to Hell" Merchandise
- Three t-shirts designed to loosen your money from your wallets.
-
- "Fish for Satan"
-
- That "Peace" or "Christ" in a Fish symbol, straight from the bumpers
- of obnoxious Christians and onto your chest, with a little twist. White
- on Black.
-
-
- "HEY JERRY FALWELL: SUCK MY ASS YOU USELESS SHITBAG"
-
- Fuck subtlety. This design is BOUND to get you thrown out of the
- mall. Or your house. Black on White.
-
-
- "jesus saves... other people"
- And ain't that the truth? Black on white.
-
-
- Oh yeh? How the fuck else am I supposed to support myself? Ad
- sales? HA! Just buy one of these shirts.
-
- All shirts 100% Cotton. Large or X-Large only. $10.00 + $2.00 for
- postage & my personal handling. Send cash, check or m/o to "cash" or
- "Jeff Koyen." PO Box 1646 - Phil PA 19105-1646 $2.00 covers
- postage and handling for AS MANY SHIRTS AS YOU BUY. $2 FLAT
- RATE! (International orders must add $2 per shirt for postage/etc.
- Sorry.) Allow at least 3 weeks for delivery. I'm a very busy man,
- after all. All designs 1994, Jeff Koyen. Please don't fuck with my
- copyrights; they're all I've got.
-
- NOTE TO ELECTRONIC READERS: Write me (crank@aol.com) with your
- fax # and I will return-fax a copy of the above designs. Continental
- US only, sorry.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 5.
-
- No More Fucking Serial Killers, eh?
- -----------------------------------
-
- Doesn't the title just say it all?
-
- I am so fucking sick of articles and poorly-written, unoriginal
- worship-oriented pieces about serial and mass murderers. Sick to
- death, in fact. Haven't we (especially as the so-called UNDERGROUND
- & INDEPENDENT small press) done enough to stomp this dead horse?
- Yes.
-
- Fortunately, there is an end in sight. "Natural Born Killers" arrives
- one of these months. Though Quentin Tarantino is supposedly
- unhappy with Oliver Stone's treatment of his script, the film will be
- incredible if it maintains even one-half of Quentin's brilliance. The
- only disappointment I expect are the stars: Woody Doldrum
- Harrelson and Juliette Bad-Actress Lewis.
-
- The script is truly wonderful. A piece of art to anyone who has been
- a part of the serial/mass murderer fascination throughout the years.
- Quentin obviously did his homework (or went through his library) to
- create Mickey and Mallory Knox, the dynamic-duo, Sid & Nancy of
- killers. He's built them from the ground up to be the quintessential
- media icons: attractive, sexual and witty, with a death count of 44.
- Tarantino makes fun of your fascination, too. He throws the Sid &
- Nancy crap in your face; he pounds you with Geraldo allusions; he
- grinds down the Americana serial/mass murderer attention to it's
- ridiculous core. It's beautiful.
-
- And I expect "NBK" to finally put this serial/mass murderer nonsense
- to a bitter death, so that I won't have to open any more 'zines and
- see articles and fluff about the same half dozen killers. But in an
- effort to hasten the process, I offer the following declaration:
-
- Attention Writers, Editors, Publishers
-
- I, Jeff Koyen--embittered serial/mass murderer afficionado, failing
- writer, snotty elitist, working shit--am hereby officially declaring a
- moratorium (look it up, kids) on the publishing of the following:
-
- -- articles about the personal lives of serial/mass murderers;
- -- articles about/pictures of the artwork of serial/ mass murderers;
- -- articles about/pictures of the deeds of serial/mass murderers,
- unless they are previously unpublished and particularly gruesome
- (see page 3);
- -- reviews or exposs of other media covering any serial/mass
- murderer (current article excluded).
-
- In fact, I don't want to see ANYTHING AT ALL about serial and mass
- murderers. Got me? I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF IT. It's all so goddamn
- redundant.
-
- Do you know how many places I have seen the Richard Remirez and
- Henry Lee Lucas artwork? It was interesting when I first saw it in
- Answer Me! But I've since seen it in 2 or 3 other small press,
- UNDERGROUND magazines. Shit, it's probably been in Newsweek and
- Time by now. Haven't YOU had enough?
-
- I will grant 3 exceptions to my totalitarian decree. As "Murder Can
- Be Fun," "Evil," and "Answer Me!" have always published interesting
- articles, photos, etc, in the true crime vein, I feel they're the only
- publications capable of continuing to engage me in spite of all the
- other shit out there. Let the professionals do it, ok, kids? You just
- won't do it better than the Goads.
-
- Please don't tell me that your magazine published a Gacy painting
- way back in 1990 because I don't care; so did "Details." And don't tell
- me that YOUR magazine printed a letter from Manson 5 years ago; it's
- been passe for 15 years. (Hell, when the Lemonheads covered a
- Manson song, it was interesting, SIX YEARS AGO. Guns 'n Roses jumps
- on the wagon and gets national media attention?) It's all crap. It's
- boring, mass media nonsense, ok? You've been sold out by
- yourselves and all your little dangerous rags. But don't take it up
- with me. I don't like to argue.
-
- So. In the way that "Airplane!" spoofed and ultimately ended the
- string of "Airport 19xx" movies, "Natural Born Killers" will do the
- same to the national fixation on serial/mass murderers. After all,
- when your so-cool hobby is being detailed on a 50-foot screen at the
- local MultiPlex 12, how underground can you REALLY be? Even the
- stupid motherfuckers buying Gacy paintings for $5000 will be
- bitching that "now EVERYONE'S got one. I had mine X years ago." Shit,
- when your grandmother knows what Gacy's body count was, how
- CUTTING EDGE can you possibly be?
-
- All I can say is that I got my Gacy for $100, and it's up for sale for
- $2500. I've also got my Bloody Visions trading cards, and they're for
- sale, too. But I need to sell them quick, before the public realizes how
- trite and commonplace all this crap is. I'm selling 'cause
- I need the money; I've got 2-color covers to print and sacrifices must
- be made.
-
- So, quick, get yours now, before "NBK" outcools you!!
- I'll even pick up the shipping and insurance! Make me an offer.
-
-
-
- One for the Boys
- ----------------
-
- An actual question reprinted from somewhere:
-
- Q:
- I am a girl from France, 15 years old. I am a virgin, but I love
- making oral and anal sex with men friends older than me. I have
- many girl friends that also like very much making anal and oral sex
- only. We say that we avoid pregnancy and keep virginity in this way.
- I think such kind of sex is the sex of the future. What do you think?
-
- A:
- Oh my.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 6.
-
- Screw Women, Part 1
- -------------------
-
- A few years ago, Date Rape hit BIG. Movies of the Week. 20/20
- Reports. College Dormitory Seminars. The running truth? Guys are
- assholes. Amen.
-
- Fuck education and awareness--men still cling to an underlying
- philosophy that women are nothing more than fuckholes dropped on
- this earth for their pleasure. Doubt me? Read the below passage.
-
- I suppose it's outdated, but you know what? It demonstrates an
- attitude that has been passed down from father to son for countless
- generations. An attitude that still--in 1994--dictates that women
- should fuck guys when the guys want it, WITHOUT QUESTION.
-
- If you're a woman, listen up: For every nice guy you know there are
- 3 dozen assholes waiting to date rape you and your friends. For
- every nice word a guy has for you, he's got 20 words for describing
- your cunt to his buddies. It's our nature as assholes.
-
- If you're a man, listen up: Ever try to talk a woman into fucking you?
- Sure you have. Ever leave a woman's bed, unfulfilled, feeling
- cheated, and maybe a little angry? Sure you have. Ever told your
- friends about that girl's pussy that felt looser than a stretched-out
- sock? Sure you have. You're a fuck.
-
- And the solution, ladies? Kick any man in the balls at the slightest
- provocation. Carry a taser and fuck him up as soon as he grabs your
- titties a little too roughly. If he does hurt you, hurt him back. Or find
- someone to hurt him. Fuck the cops--they won't deal out nearly the
- right amount of punishment he deserves. Shit, they'll probably high-
- five each other.
-
- Above all, don't fall for men's bullshit. On the first date, assume that
- he's an asshole. Really now, who needs benefit of the doubt for one
- cock? There's plenty more out there. And somewhere in the batch,
- you'll find that swell fellow who looks at you as something more than
- a fuck. We're out there, hiding from the rest of the motherfuckers.
- And we're just as sick of the little boys and their big bad cocks as
- you are.
-
- "In kissing a girl whose experience with osculation is limited, it is a
- good thing to work up to the kissing of the lips. Only an arrant fool
- seizes hold of such a girl, when they are comfortably seated in the
- sofa, and suddenly shoves his face into hers and smacks her lips.
- Naturally, the first thing he should do is to arrange it so that the girl
- is seated against the arm of the sofa while he is seated at her side. In
- this way, she cannot edge away from him when he becomes serious
- in his attentions. This done, on some pretext or another, such as a
- gallant attempt to adjust the cushions behind her, he manages to
- insinuate his arm, first around the back of the sofa and then,
- gradually, around her shoulders. If she flinches, don't worry. If she
- flinches and makes an outcry, don't worry. If she flinches, and makes
- an outcry and tries to get up from the sofa, don't worry. Hold her,
- gently but firmly, and allay her fears with kind, reassuring words.
- Remember what Shakespeare said about "a woman's no!" However, if
- she flinches, makes an outcry, a loud stentorian outcry, mind you,
- and starts to scratch your face, then start to worry or start to get
- yourself out of a bad situation. Such girls are not to be trifled
- with or kissed. It is such as they, in most cases, who still believe the
- story of the stork which brings babies because of the consequences
- of a kiss."
-
- --from The Art of Kissing, Hugh Morris, 1936.(without permission.
- emphasis added)
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 7.
-
- Jerking Off: The Self-Publishing Trap
- -------------------------------------
-
-
- They were wild times lived in a sort of bored desperation. Starved
- for excitement, driven by apathy, we hunted for diversion in the
- trickle-down environment of suburban pop culture.
-
- It was a time before collection agencies and before bad credit ratings.
- When a cheap used car could break down and not lose me a job, and
- me and my friends would withstand the shit and grief we gave each
- other; I knew, from all the bad movies and worn-out Coming of Age
- novels, that I'd "start missing everybody" as soon as I told anybody
- anything. Old J.D. sure was right.
-
- --
-
- It was 1986 and we smoked dope in a semi-corporate parking lot
- across town, stuck behind a thin row of pines and a drab concrete
- building. One night, Laurie was high and knew there were police in
- the bushes. We all ran. Laurie first. Ed and I fell over each other,
- Tom disappeared, no one knew where Jason went.
-
- There were no cops. We walked back to the lot and kept smoking.
- Jeff and Joe were also there, but they didn't smoke. After the police
- scare, Laurie sat with Jeff and Joe, deciding she wasn't all that high.
-
- Another time, the same parking lot, we didn't have any pot but had
- beer and vodka. I was a cashier at a liquor store, so booze was cheap
- or free, never expensive. It was me, Tom, Ed and Jason. Tom had the
- tape player he took from someone's car down the shore, but it was a
- little fucked up.
-
- We got pretty drunk and after a few hours walked to Pathmark. On
- the way, it was all-around pitch black except for sporadic bursts of
- music from Tom's broken radio. Over Route 80, Tom threw the player
- off the bridge onto the Westbound lane. Traffic was sparse. He'd
- forgotten to take out his Replacements tape. It was his second copy--
- he'd lost the first copy in a similar incident.
-
- At Pathmark, we shoplifted Hostess cakes and Ed & I drank cooking
- sherry in aisle 12. Cooking sherry is very salty, to prevent people
- from trying to get drunk on it. We spit it out on the floor.
-
- Tom was close to home, so he left us at Pathmark. Ed, Jason and I had
- been closer to home before we came to Pathmark, but it was too late.
- We asked a trucker for a lift back into the developments, but "No can
- do, I'd never be able to turn around back there." No money for a cab.
- We walked home.
-
- My drab, white duplex had never before looked so comfortable. I
- woke up the next morning at 8 and met Tom and Ed at work where
- we hung old women's polyester clothing on ten foot high racks. We
- were hungover, dizzy, miserable.
-
- --
-
- Summer of 1986. We took the bus into NYC to see some bands at the
- old Ritz. I stole six ready-mixed cocktails from work for the bus ride.
- My liquor store was in the Pathmark shopping plaza, which included
- a K-Mart and Drug Fair, plus the usual card shop, florist, pizza shop,
- et cetera. The bus stop for New York was at the far end of the
- parking lot, so Tom met me at work and we rode In from there. I
- figured on sleeping at Tom's apartment that night.
-
- The bus cost $7.20 round-trip. I'd won the tickets to the show on
- some local college radio station. At the Ritz, Tom and I talked our
- way into the back room where the opening bands drank before and
- after the show. There was a sink filled with bottles of Rolling Rock so
- Tom and I helped ourselves and got drunk.
-
- Coming out of the band's lounge, two girls, Joy and Kris from Long
- Island, nailed us for suckers and picked us up. Horny and drunk, we
- bought them overpriced white wine. We spent too much on the
- drinks, but we fucked around with the girls in the middle of the bar.
- I was grabbing Joy's tits and Tom had his hand down Kris' pants. It
- was quite a scene. If you'd been there that night, you'd remember it.
-
- The last bus out was some time around 1:30am, so at 1:15 we left the
- club. Outside, Joy vomited up the wine in the gutter and Kris wrote
- her phone number on Tom's hand. Then we kissed them goodbye and
- hopped a cab to Port Authority.
-
- We missed the last bus Out. It didn't matter, though, because the cab
- fare from the club had been our last 4 bucks. We were broke. And
- drunk. In NYC. Fuck.
-
- Ed's summer job took him into New York every morning at 7. We
- could wait 'til morning, find him at work and get bus fare. That left
- us for 5 1/2 hours on the streets. Instead we found a stupid cabbie to
- take us to the suburbs with my driver's license as collateral. "C'mon,
- man, we're desperate. Shit, you've got my license--what am I gonna
- do?"
-
- In the cab on the way back, we stopped on Route 10 to help two
- young women whose car was broken down. They asked for a lift, but
- changed their minds when we told them what we'd be doing. Sorry.
-
- In Parsippany, Tom directed the cab into the dark maze of a random
- development. Turn here, Turn there, That's my house, Stop here, Be
- right back.
-
- Tom left the car door open, ran up to a dark house and searched his
- pockets for keys. In the cab, I thanked the driver and made small
- talk. At the right chance, I leaned over the seat and snatched my
- driver's license, dove out the car door and dashed into someone's
- back yard. As I was grabbing my license, I saw the meter: $62.80.
- "Thanks for the ride, pal." Don't forget a generous tip.
-
- The cabbie chased us through two yards. Tom and I lost him behind
- tool sheds and air conditioner stacks. We ran into two fences and set
- off one house alarm. Between the house alarm and the cabbie's CB,
- cops flooded the neighborhood in 10 minutes.
-
- It took us over an hour to fight our way through the yards across
- town to Tom's apartment complex. We stumbled in, exhausted and
- sobered. We were pretty miserable, but we knew there was one fuck
- of a story in that night.
-
- --
-
- One of my most fond memories of childhood is standing in front of
- the bowl, urinating, trying to break a discarded cigarette in half with
- the force of my urine. When my bladder was just about evacuated, at
- that last moment, the butt broke, sending wet shreds of tobacco
- swirling around the water, floating in and under the foam of my piss.
- Triumph.
-
- Every time there's a cigarette in the toilet when I'm pissing, I try to
- break the butt. Most guys do, I figure. Ask your boyfriend or spouse.
-
- --
-
- My next-door neighbor, and best friend for the first 10 years of my
- life, was Dave. He and I were chums and all that shit from the start.
- When I was in high school, I used to buy dime bags from him.
-
- My sister would buy me booze and I'd buy her dope. A very close
- relationship. She first bought me liquor when I was in eighth grade.
- Andy R., Jon C., Jeff and I were going sledding at the hill behind St.
- Clare's hospital. Jon got a pint of rum, I brought a pint of blackberry
- brandy. The four of us got drunk and when my mother picked us up,
- she knew.
-
- We dropped Andy & Jeff at Jon's house. Mom took me home and told
- me it was o.k.: "I'd go into your sisters' rooms and it would smell like
- the Napa Valley. Just don't let it become a problem." No problem.
-
- --
-
- Will didn't drink, but he was a great host. His parents often went on
- vacation, and when they left, we arrived.
- The first party at Will's house was around Mother's Day 1986. We all
- drank too much. Ed held Tom's head over the toilet. I passed out
- somewhere.
-
- Will's house, New Year's 1986/7--we all drank too much and I
- fucked Jason's ex-girlfriend, Jen. I was so drunk I was blacking out,
- and when I snapped awake, my cock was raw and my balls ached. It
- was still early, so I started drinking again. Jen had left; I never saw
- her after that.
-
- That same night, I met Laura from Randolph and began dating her
- the next day. We never had sex because she was absolutely terrified
- of getting pregnant. That kind of terror isn't worth the lay.
-
- It was to Laura that I wrote my first cheesy love poem. For
- Valentine's Day. I threw it out years and years ago, but I think of it
- every once in a while. I was a sincere young man, if not a good poet.
-
- --
-
- We worked at a shit warehouse in North Jersey. Jason got a job there
- through an outside friend. He got Jeff a job. Jeff got me, Tom, Ed and
- Joe jobs. $5.50 an hour part-time after school and weekends. Good
- money for high school kids in 1986.
-
- Warehouses are interesting places, and they remain a place of
- comfort for me. Office buildings and corporate environments hold
- death and boredom --the people are stale, fake and narrow.
-
- Oscar, Jerry and Goody were our supervisors. They seemed so old at
- the time, but were only 25 or so.
-
- We climbed racks of clothing 10 feet high in order to move, pick,
- pack and count units of women's clothing--Alfred Dunner,
- Sportswear for Mature Women. Polyester. Rayon. Nylon. The
- warehouse needed us to keep distribution flowing. We knew they
- needed us.
-
- We were young and we didn't like being inside when the nice
- weather came. And the bosses--like most bosses--were cocksuckers.
- But we found satisfaction. It started with changing garment labels. It
- quickly progressed to wrinkling, tearing and soiling them. Tom
- finished by pissing on them one day.
-
- None of us ever jerked off or shit on a garment. Not that I know of. If
- I had, I'd tell you, right?
-
- --
-
- Michelle was a very attractive blonde woman who worked on the
- picking and packing line. She took a liking to me and asked me out.
- She was 23 to my 17. I'd sneak away from my assigned rack, hide in
- a rack near her line, and steal snatches of conversation. It felt good
- to have someone you didn't grow up with enjoy your company.
-
- Michelle and I never had sex and I guess I know why. She was very
- shy and I was very nervous. We talked on the phone for hours and
- sat in her car fooling around a few nights a week. She'd drive 20
- minutes to see me. As I said, it was nice to be accepted by someone
- outside the group you went to elementary and middle school with.
-
- We broke up when I went to live down the shore for the summer of
- 1986. It wasn't particularly sad; we'd had fun. During that summer, I
- bought a '68 Mustang for $600, lost my virginity, met and said
- goodbye to Laura from Florida, and missed my friends.
-
- --
-
- I don't remember much about middle school. The memories that do
- stand out are vague, cartoonish images of a cut kneecap, nervous
- school dances, playing trumpet in the band, starting to smell when I
- sweat, and waiting for pubic hair. I realized in 7th grade that middle
- school was the place where young men and women jockeyed for
- social position. It is there that boys become masculine and girls
- become desirable. I found I wasn't interested in sports and wasn't
- seen by the girls I desired.
-
- But I was cute, I suppose, in a girlish kind of way. I was the kid who
- always seemed to be friends with the attractive girls. I was a mascot.
- My first love was a girl named Ay. Spring, 7th grade. Our
- relationship was written in notes in class and spoken over the phone
- each night. On occasion, we'd walk to class and I'd hold her hand. I
- soon discovered the problems of getting hard in public.
-
- Rob Pellino lived down the block from me. We'd grown up together,
- though he was more Dave's friend than mine. Rob and I always had
- some sort of tension between us, because I didn't follow his
- neighborhood leadership. I was too selfish to follow anyone other
- than myself. Rob was a year older and went to a private middle
- school; he always told us about the girls he was screwing and what
- they did to him. I was, secretly, in awe.
-
- April: It was nice weather, so I'd ride my bike across town to Ay's
- house. I once made the mistake of bringing Dave and Rob along. Ay
- fell for Rob and dumped me a week later. I hated him.
-
- When Ay dumped me I was so upset I cried in school, in the middle
- of classes. It was a turning point. Full of emotional weakness, unable
- to keep it hidden like the tough guys. I was ashamed. I'd become
- attached to a fleeting relationship. Start of a bad habit.
-
- Ay got pregnant during her senior year of high school and might or
- might not have gotten married. I don't remember. I might not have
- ever known.
-
- Rob's brother, Danny, died in a car accident on his honeymoon in the
- Bahamas five years ago. Fuck my condolences; I couldn't've been
- happier.
-
- I am, on the whole, a bitter man who takes pleasure in the
- appropriate misery other people receive.
-
- --
-
- Mary Beth was a friend of Janet, Jason's little sister. I met Mary Beth
- when I was 15 and she was 13; she was young and awkward, but
- cute. When Marybeth was 17, she was no longer awkward.
-
- Ed's house, 1988: His parents took the camper and left for a week
- every summer. Usually Memorial Day. We were 19, drinking from a
- keg of cheap beer and smoking Tom's pot. Tom usually got the best
- pot.
-
- We were having a picnic, and Janet and her friends were old enough
- to drink with us, mainly because they were suddenly old enough to
- be sexual.
-
- It was the first time I'd seen Marybeth in a couple years. She was a
- very beautiful young woman. Probably still is, I suppose. Tall, dark
- hair, very nice breasts and long legs. Fucking American wet dream.
-
- During the night, Marybeth and I flirted, while I drank. Ed drank,
- flirted and got bent out of shape. Marybeth and I walked around the
- neighborhood and made out in the bushes next to Ed's house.
- Someone drove Janet and Marybeth home to Janet's house; I took the
- ride with them, and Marybeth and I molested each other for a few
- minutes in the backseat.
-
- I took her out a week later. Conversation was dull. I was dull. She
- was dull. She probably still is. I am.
-
- It was my own fault that we were both disappointed. I should've
- known, even then, that the best and worst aspects of my personality
- come out when I'm drunk. I'm a very bland person sober; whatever
- passions I have come out through the crutch of booze.
-
- Problem is, people interpret the same good and bad qualities as
- attractive or repulsive, depending on my relationship with them. In
- the times of Marybeth and the rest of them, I exhibited my passions
- physically when I was drunk; this tended to attract. Fortunately, I
- stopped getting drunk and fucking a few years ago. Too many lost
- friendships. Too many regrets. Now I wake up and regret saying
- things too loudly or too frankly. I am often uninvited to people's
- apartments.
-
- I don't have many friends anymore. Back then, though, the friends
- were the unassailable network of trust and love. I guess it's still that
- way for most people. I wouldn't know. Really.
-
- --
-
- I still think about the few women I fooled around with that first year
- at school, before I transferred. Pam, a pretty blonde punk who never
- wore a bra; we'd get drunk and dance at parties. Eilleen, Pam's friend
- with a cute little ass. And some girl with bad breath at a hardcore
- show in Philadelphia.
-
- I was dating Laura from Florida, and I thought that I loved her. But I
- was still lonely; Laura was in Florida for a few months and I was
- rotting in Pennsylvania, surrounded by men and women my age who
- had nothing but fucking on their minds. I was also drinking and
- smoking a lot. I also dropped acid every once in a while. So it's no
- surprise that I couldn't keep the loneliness at bay.
-
- Sandy was a friend who wanted to fuck me; we talked about it. She
- was the sophomore who had slit her wrists in the dorm the year
- before. Thank god she survived; she was a great person: intelligent,
- attractive, without inhibition. After all, when everyone around you
- knows you as That Suicide Attempt, what place does inhibition have
- in your life?
-
- I don't understand how or why I never had sex with Sandy, but I did
- regret it, sometimes. Laura dumped me in May after she fucked
- some guy in Florida. For all my flirting and the occasional kiss, at
- least I kept my dick dry. The year after I left that school, I heard
- that Sandy was pregnant and married during her junior year.
-
- It was too late to go back, of course. Sandy was dating someone, Pam
- was dating someone, and I was left alone, still. Would it have been
- better if I'd fucked Sandy? Laura would've still fucked her guy in
- Florida. I probably would've stayed at that school and kept the
- friends I'd made. Sandy wouldn't be pregnant and I wouldn't be so
- bitter.
-
- But, then I wouldn't have what I have nowtrue fucking love. And
- ain't True Love worth a world of shit?
-
- I miss them, sometimes, those friends for a year. But I don't want to
- see them ever again; I don't want to see what life has done to them.
- And I don't want them to see what life has done to me.
-
- --
-
- When I was 14, mom & dad gave me the option to buy a moped or a
- computer with the money I'd saved from working. When I was 15--
- legal moped age--they gave me the option to buy a computer.
-
- Sold.
-
- I hit the computer age when 300 baud modems were top dollar and
- my Atari 800 came with (I think) 8K of Ram. It was the time of "War
- Games" and "Cloak and Dagger," when computer hacks were heroes
- for a new suburban revolution.
-
- On the computer bulletin boards, I found a new world of intelligent,
- anonymous people inhabiting islands of intersection on the phone
- lines. It was beautiful: everyone used aliases. I found a place to
- express myself without giving my name. I found an audience for my
- ranting and raving. I made a lot of enemies, for someone without an
- identity.
-
- An older woman started leaving dirty messages for me on some of
- the bulletin boards. Horny, confident and anonymous, I answered
- them.
-
- A month later, one Thursday afternoon, I met her in the Pathmark
- parking lot, a short walk from school. She had straight black hair and
- a yellow VW bug. Mid-thirties, a little overweight. I can still smell
- her perfume; I don't know what it was.
-
- We went to the Willowbrook Mall and walked around. She bought me
- a drink in the Irish restaurant at the far end of the mall. She held my
- hand. She bought me a box of discs in the computer store. I was
- beyond fucking terrified.
-
- She wanted to fuck me, only because I was 15. She was a freak for
- young boys. And I was a young boy.
-
- Of course, I really wanted to lose my virginity; and I knew I wouldn't
- be screwing the head cheerleader anytime soon. I just wanted to
- fuck fuck fuck.
-
- I didn't do it. I was too scared. She kissed me goodbye and dropped
- me off at home.
-
- We still talked through the BBS's for a few weeks. She got me and my
- friends tickets for a concert once, and I saw her at the show, getting
- high with a friend. After that, I never saw her again.
- I can't remember her name. Just her perfume. And the taste of
- mature sexual terror she gave me that Thursday afternoon.
-
- --
-
- I had my first fuck on a bed in my grandparents house, down the
- shore, summer 1986. Dana was a little whore--though I didn't realize
- it at the time--who was fooling around with half the guys on the
- boardwalk. We hung out together for a week or so.
-
- One afternoon, before I had to work, we were petting on the couch.
- Out of nowhere, she says "I like it on the bottom" and slides
- underneath me. I didn't know what to do. Instinctively (?) I led her
- to the nearest bedroom and closed the door.
-
- On the bed, she dropped her pants. I dropped mine. She wouldn't
- take off her shirt--I don't know why. I felt her up a little, stuck a
- finger or two inside her, got on top, and got it in. "Don't come inside
- me, ok?" "Sure, fine," says Mr. Cool.
-
- I couldn't feel a thing. I don't know if it was the fear or if she was
- really loose. Probably both. And just like a bad movie, I pumped
- away and her head smacked into the headboard a few times. We did
- that for a couple minutes and I rolled off.
-
- I hadn't come. I hadn't felt a fucking thing, in fact, the whole time.
- She rolled halfway on me and kissed me tenderly. I guess it wasn't
- that bad for her; not painful, if nothing else. Maybe she'd actually felt
- something good? How the fuck would I know? It sure as shit couldn't
- have been too good.
-
- Then, the front door opened. I don't know what the fuck I'd been
- thinking; my grandparents were rarely away from the house for
- more than half an hour.
-
- So we jumped up and put on our clothes. I cracked open the door and
- saw Dana's friend, Lisa.
-
- I stuffed my underwear in my pocket, smoothed out the bed, and we
- joined Lisa in the living room. Dana was chatty, I was embarrassed.
- It was 4:50 and I was due at work by 5:00. So Dana and Lisa walked
- me there, I kissed Dana goodbye, and went to work, befuddled by
- the whole experience.
-
- We never fucked again. She must've lost interest in me, because I
- heard she was fucking around with some guy who worked further
- down the boardwalk. I guess maybe he knew what a clitoris was. If
- someone had told ME, then maybe I would've gotten a second chance.
- And, maybe I would've gotten off.
-
- --
-
- Diamonds and rubies, her father used to tell her. He drove for a
- living, and, you know, late night highways get real fucking boring. So
- you think. Or you talk, or sing. Or you watch other cars. And it
- became diamonds coming at you, rubies running away in front of
- you. When you drive the highway at night, it's all diamonds in the
- headlights and rubies in the tail lights. That's what he told her as a
- child.
-
- I met Jennifer at school. It was my first year at Rutgers, a sophomore
- transfer. She was a freshman; very outgoing, pretty, enchanting. It
- was great, when I was nineteen. When I was twenty, I hated her.
- And I still do, at 25.
-
- But I still find myself driving at night and my mind's rushing around
- in boredom, I see the rubies of the tail lights and the diamonds of the
- headlights and I think of the year that I (once again) thought I was
- in love.
-
- I was no great fuck when I was 19, mind you, but I'd dated Laura for
- almost a year and we'd screwed when we had the chance. So when
- Jen and I got into it one Friday night, I was better than most of the
- boys she'd been with in high school. Unfortunately, the booze gets
- most of the credit; I was able to last pretty long because I was pretty
- drunk. The next night we had sex sober and I was done in 30
- seconds. But being young, I got hard again right away and did a
- better job of it the second time.
-
- Sex was ok. She'd had a good bit of experience; simple, normal high
- school sex. Eventually, she'd get on top, all that. I'd guide her around
- a little; we had fun playing around. It never became phenomenal, but
- it was the best I'd ever had. Hell, it was regular.
-
- After 6 months, she dumped me for Tony, a guy I drank, smoked
- dope and played cards with. It sucked shit; I had to see this guy at
- least twice a week--I couldn't avoid him.
-
- Aside from the emotional collapse, the decline into apathy, harder
- drinking, afternoon dope and the occasional cocaine--all that break-
- up/breakdown crap--what really sucked was that all my investment
- was sleeping in his bed. She told me I'd done wonders for her sexual
- ambition. So now my investment was riding someone else's cock,
- pulling him around in ways he'd only seen in videos and cheap
- magazines. She probably scared him, she was so sexed-up. Teach her
- how to have fun fucking and then watch someone else get my profits.
- Man, life is unfair sometimes.
-
- So, like that little boy in 7th grade, I was destroyed.
-
- But six years later I'm not going to waste your time with bullshit
- love-saga trash. I'm talking about sex, about how fucking affects the
- simple routine of life.
-
- Do I have to be blunt? Diamonds and rubies; expensive, pretty, petty
- pieces of stone. If that's the only thing that reminds me of her, then
- why not remember the utility of the relationship? I don't think of
- her when I see diamond earrings or a ruby ring; only the red and
- white lights of cars on a fucking highway. It's not real. See? It's not
- the real thing. Just an excuse. And so the memory of fucking her isn't
- really all that's left of her in my mind. It's just the only thing I feel
- like talking about.
-
- So, anyway, I guess the diamonds and rubies will always be with me.
- At least once a month, like it or not, they come to mind when I'm
- driving the highway alone, late at night. Ironically, her father hated
- me, and all I remember about his little girl is fucking her.
- But, as I said, that's not entirely true.
-
- --
-
- "Liquor! Girls!" the sign reads.
-
- If I could have both, 24 hours a day--or at least every hour that I'm
- awake--then I just KNOW I'd be happy. But if I had to choose one, I'd
- choose booze. Because when I have any amount of liquor, I can
- always imagine the girls. But when I've got my girlfriend in bed, but
- no liquor to speak of, I always seem to feel half empty.
-
- --
-
- Hey, I'm a fucking human being, ain't I?
-
- --
-
- It ain't much, but it's mine. Thanks for your time.
-
-
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-
-
- ************************************
- 11.
-
- True Dog Stories for Young Readers
- ----------------------------------
-
- By Tom Bielavitz (jitbagger@aol.com)
-
- When I was an infant my parents took a puppy in and named it
- Sugar. It was a small, terrier type. It loved my father greatly, and
- was very obedient. However, Sugar took to backing my mother into a
- corner, baring it's teeth and growling. Sugar became more aggressive,
- especially when I was the center of attention. My mother had to
- carry a small baseball bat to beat it off. Finally, she convinced my
- father to give it away, but they had a hard time doing so. It seems no
- one wanted a full grown pit bull.
-
- Years later we got another dog, a pointer mutt we called Bronco. As
- Bronco aged, he had many health problems; arthritis, cancer lumps,
- and ears that would fill with fluid. The epilepsy was the worst,
- though. He was a large dog, and during the seizures his hind legs
- would stretch forward, past his nose. His tongue would hang out,
- salivating, and his eyes would glaze much like a human epileptic
- (except the part about his legs stretching forward). I was about ten
- years old and it was disturbing to watch: he would scoot around
- backwards, and then, suddenly, he would flip backwards, his hind
- legs acting like the spring on a mousetrap. Since we lived in a small
- apartment, and he was about three feet tall, furniture and stuff
- would be thrown about the room. Once he lost control of his bowels.
- The worst part was to look into his eyes and see the shame he felt
- after the seizures. It became obvious that his accumulation of health
- problems was paining him. My dad thought it was cruel to make an
- animal suffer, so we decided to put Bronco to sleep. I watched as the
- vet put the needle into his leg, as he stretched, closed his eyes, and
- died.
-
- While riding my bike over a small bridge about 10 miles from home,
- I noticed a dog, a german shepherd, in an unusual position; he was
- hanging from a tree. Upon further inspection I decided he was
- hanging from a hook jammed into the roof of his mouth. Also, he had
- been gutted, kind of like a bear skin rug you might see in a cartoon,
- so that his head, back, and front paws were intact, but his
- hindquarters were removed. I wasn't allowed in that town at that
- age, so I didn't say anything.
-
- --
-
- In college, I visited a friend's home during winter break. He had a
- small toy dog that also had problems. It had lost an eye to a tumor,
- so all that remained was a hole with an open sore above it that
- collected lint, hair, and dirt in it, complete with oozing mucous. The
- dog's other eye was cataracted; it had a heart stutter, and asthma.
- When it would bark it would begin to wheeze, which would cause it
- to fart involuntarily. It would just wheeze, and fart, wheeze. and fart.
- Once, I saw it in the back yard barking at a neighbor's dog when it
- went into one of these fits and fell over sideways, rolling for a few
- revolutions down a small hill.
-
- --
-
- I was living in a boarding house with about sixteen other men, and I
- decided to take in an elkhound that was going to be put to sleep. His
- tail curved strangely, and he came with the name Clue. Although he
- was meant as a common house pet, he became very attached to me,
- and would sleep outside my door, and growl at visitors. When my
- girlfriend came over, he would nuzzle in between us.
-
- A guy down the hall named Pete didn't like Clue, and would often
- taunt him. I think Clue knew I didn't like Pete either. One night Pete
- and another guy, Steve, ate some LSD, snorted some coke, and drank
- for many hours. I wasn't around that night. At some time, Pete began
- sticking his head out the door and yelling "Party on, Clue!" When the
- dog would lunge forward, Pete would slam the door on his head and
- he and Steve would laugh from the other side. The next day, I heard
- the stories. When I went back to my room, I was looking for Clue to
- give him a biscuit or two. I walked to the second floor porch door
- just in time to see Clue dart from around the side of the house and
- sink his teeth into Pete's leg. He locked in, and shook his body
- fiercely, tearing Pete's flesh. I turned around and walked back to my
- room to get Clue his biscuit, listening to Pete screaming as I walked.
-
- Pete now has four half-dollar sized holes in his left calf. He moved to
- Florida, and I haven't heard from him. I hope more of his life went
- the way of his flesh when his town got hit by Hurricane Andrew.
-
- --
-
- I've heard that when a dog gets the taste of blood, he'll bite again,
- and I believe it. A few weeks after the Pete incident, one of the men
- in the house decided to do some woodwork with a circular saw. It
- was about 9:30 am, and I had just finished three MD 20/20's mixed
- with Andre champagne when I heard him screaming. When I got to
- the back porch I saw that he had severed the upper half of his
- forearm down to the bone. I could see the striations of the muscle,
- and white cord things; ligaments, I guess. Blood had splattered across
- the porch flying from the spinning saw wheel. The safety guard
- didn't slide back, and the dope had crossed the saw across his body
- to put it down. Ironically, there is a warning on this particular saw
- telling the user not to set the tool down in this manner. Pictures are
- included, if English isn't your language.
-
- I grabbed a bath towel, wrapped it around his arm, and dropped him
- at the hospital. I took my towel with me because the blood had made
- a nice Rorshach image I intended to hang on my wall. I put it on the
- fire escape to dry. Unfortunately, Clue tore it to shreds while it was
- still moist. A week later, Clue bit me, barely breaking the skin, and
- also leapt at a mailman's throat, although held back by his chain. I
- took Clue to the pound's night drop off with a note that he's a biter.
-
- --
-
- Sometime later in the same house another guy brought in a huge
- Golden Retriever named Buster. He was a good dog, but hated
- Meathead, the Black Lab next door. The day after Buster got fixed, he
- was lying on the second floor balcony sleeping with me. Meathead
- came outside and began barking at Buster; Buster began barking
- back. I don't know what went on between the two dogs--maybe
- Meathead called Buster a ball-less faggot. I do know that Buster
- jumped over the balcony railing, dropping 25 feet down to the
- parking lot. He landed without even a wince, and ran over to
- Meathead, who looked pretty surprised, for a dog. Buster proceeded
- to bite Meathead's fat head, until the owner ran over and began
- beating Buster over the head with a large stick. It took about six
- good whacks before he let go. At first, the guy hit him pretty lightly,
- but by the end he was winding back for some good swings. No shit.
-
- --
-
- After a year or so Buster left with whoever brought him, and I was
- suckered into another puppy I named Bob (a Black Lab). Bob, like
- most puppies, would eat anything and so we all took great enjoyment
- in checking his shit for interesting things--you know, crap we'd lost,
- like maybe a ring, or whatever. Once, while playing volleyball in the
- side dirt lot, I went to throw some of his shit aside by picking it up
- with a stick, but it fell into two pieces, held together by a used
- rubber. He had eaten someone's jitbag. I flung it, and the two hunks
- of shit spun like a bola.
-
- Another time, I saw that Bob's meal for the day had included a pool
- cue (blue goo), a few rubber bands, some broken glass, and a walnut
- sized rock.
-
- During the summer of Bob's youth we had a party at the house,
- which was very old and in terrible condition. There was a bathroom
- on the first floor, and another on the third. Girls mostly used the
- third floor, for the privacy and because the guys had pissed all over
- the seats downstairs. Late into the shindig, the upstairs bowl became
- clogged, but the women continued to use it to shit, piss, and even
- change their rags in. I know this because we didn't call a plumber for
- a week or so, and all that crap just sat in that bowl. Also, for a day
- after the party we neglected to tell Dave, a blind man, who continued
- to use the bowl. It always smelled bad up their, so he thought
- nothing of it. After a couple days, however, you would have to hold
- your breath to move around the third floor. When we finally got a
- plumber in, he filled up a five gallon bucket more than half way with
- the various ass puddings, and left it in the bathroom, where it stayed
- for another couple days. I finally moved it onto the third floor fire
- escape. It sat there for at least a week in the summer sun, until
- someone kicked it down into the lot below. One evening I found Bob
- into the bucket up to his shoulders. I yelled, and he lifted his head
- out, toilet paper stuck to his face, and looking mighty proud. I chased
- him out, but he had eaten it all.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 12.
-
- Born Too Late to be Truly Swank
- -------------------------------
-
- Readers of CRANK #1 already know how much I yearn to have lived
- in 1961, rather than 1994. Why? Shit, the Swank Man ruled the
- fucking world, baby. "Get me a drink, hon'." "When's supper ready,
- darlin'?" "Mix me 1 last highball--I've got to get back to the office."
- What livin'!
-
- It pains me to have such envy weigh on me. (And sorry, gals, it
- wasn't exactly a liberated paradise. Tough darts.) But it sure looks
- like it was a swell time to have been young and devilishly handsome.
- I happen to be both, in case you didn't know.
-
- Fuck Sinatra. Give me Dean Martin, toots. He was THE MAN. The Man
- charged with keeping the Swank Man a mass appeal. And this album
- drives it home in a big motherfucking way. Sure, many of the pop
- culture references are woefully dated, and the racist comments will
- offend some of you, but FUCK, man, that's why they call it "dated."
- Take your lumps, kids. I have marked the places [?] where I'm
- admittedly lost. You may catch stuff I didn't. Call me ignorant. Also
- note where the author was out of his mind [!] when writing. Suck it
- up!
-
-
- From the notes on "Happiness is Dean Martin," Reprise Records, 1962.
- Back cover:
-
- "Happiness is Dean Martin" Singing "Lay Some Happiness on Me" And
- Other Selected Hoop-Las
-
- "Aesthetically, he ends up somewheres between '39's Mickey Mouse
- Watch and Lichtenstein's neo-heroic painting, "Take That . . . Pow !"
-
- "A little camp, perhaps, but too much of our current action really to
- rate that high on the Camp Charts. Put him more in the Hula Hoop-
- Silver Mini-Skirt-"Chelsea Girls"- William Manchester bag [?]. That is
- to say, awfully celebrated right now, not to mention being hellishly
- good examples at what they're driving at.
-
- "Nothing, for example, is more hula-hoop than a Pink Plastic 1960
- Hula Hoop. Nothing is more Dean Martin than Dean Martin.
-
- "Of course, doing a really preposterously good job of being Dean
- Martin depends a lot on knowing the rules about what makes the
- best Dean Martin. Knowing the archetypal definition of Martinism:
- How is he different? Why is he individual? What is he driving at?
-
- "What Dean Martin is driving at seems to be to lead a Life Of Sloth. A
- Life of EPIC Sloth. Not just your common little ol' Sunday afternoon
- lazy Sloth, like you get with minor Erskine Caldwell Georgia darlins.
- [?]
-
- "No, Martin now epitomizes EPIC SLOTH. Sloth like Joseph E. Levine
- would come up with. In big, 3-D letters, like in those Ben Hur movie
- ads, with all forms of EPIC EXHAUSTION draped over the letters.
- "Epic Sloth," starring Dean Martin, and then running around the
- bottom, instead of Mongol hordes and Jack Palance you find other
- things, for this is "Epic Sloth." Things like deflated innertubes. Like
- the ears of sleeping Spaniels. Like Kleenex ashes. [?] Like all of Life's
- Most Unresilient Stuff.
-
- "And there, leaned up in Herculean-Scope against those giant letters,
- our Pop Star slumps. Dean Martin. Kind of half-eyed looking out at
- you, grinning "Hi ya, pally," like he hopes you haven't got anything
- heavy on your mind.
-
- "Dean Martin has been working at becoming an Epic Pop Art Object.
- He's been getting in a good deal of pop art hypnotizing. Avis knows,
- you don't get to be Number One by just sitting round. Some
- detractors have published this about Martin: that he sits round,
- trying to make spaghetti look tense. [!] "Pish tosh," we say, and
- "Yellow journalism."
-
- "You have to publicize to get to be Our National Epic Sloth. Martin
- has. His medium: the most popular art object of Our Times, meaning .
- . . your television set. (Breathes there a soul with fingers so dull he
- can't find his Vertical Knob blindfolded?) [Note similarity to remote
- control in 1994.-Ed.]
-
- "The mind-boggling task which DM has accomplished in his upwards
- surge to Number One Epic Sloth in [sic] this: he has put other would-
- be number one lazy slobs into limbo. "Amos 'N Andy's" Lightnin, for
- instance, now is largely forgot. Shiftless and No-Account has moved
- to Beverly Hills, where dey got no deltas, chile. [!!!-Whooee!-Ed.] The
- other competition--those slothy Southern belles once played by Lee
- Remick and Joanne Woodward--are now minor league stuff.
-
- "Martin (few people have known this until this very minute; it has
- been a closely kept secret) was actually only Number Two until quite
- recently. The spot of Number One Epic Sloth was recently held by
- another performer. Not a human being, but a small dog. His name:
- Red Dust. He is (or was, for he has largely disappeared from our
- scene) part of a Vaudeville turn. His master would bark out
- commands: "Red Dust, Roll Over! Up, Red Dust!" But Red Dust was an
- utterly and irrevocably sag-boned hound. Red Dust never voluntarily
- moved anything, least of all a paw. The pooch looked permanently
- pickled. It was pretty funny stuff.
-
- "Dean Martin finally won out over Red Dust. Much of his triumph has
- been ascribed by some scribes to his ability to project an alcoholic
- aura from coast-to-coast, into millions of Puritan homes. Good,
- Puritan, beer-drinking homes. Martin has almost by himself
- established Booze-o-Vision as America's new Art Populaire. It's
- difficult to imagine any other object that would currently be more
- welcome in our historic nation's thousands of beer bars and juke
- joints. Nothing more popular than DM, slumped there, looking for his
- cue card, all brung [sic] to you in NBC's surrealist color. Martin and
- his--dare we say it?-- goopy baritone. [??] Martin: the biggest sex
- symbol to hit neighborhood taverns since the heyday of The
- Rheingold Girl, may she in our secret imaginations requiescat in
- flagrante delicto.
-
- "Nothing should slow up his reign as our beloved epic boozer short of
- a sudden attack of dysphagia.--Stan Cornyn"
-
- Oh, yeh, and if anyone from Reprise is reading this,
- just cut me a fucking break, won't ya, pally?
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 13.
-
- Watch Out: Here Comes Big Bad 2000
- ----------------------------------
-
- "The greatest wave of millenarian excitement--one which swept
- through the whole of society--was precipitated by the most universal
- natural disaster of the Middle Ages, the Black Death."
-
- Eeeeeeek! It's the year 2000! Something bad just HAS to happen,
- right? Maybe the environment will crap out once and for all! Maybe
- AIDS will wipe everyone out! Maybe a crazed Middle Eastern dictator
- will drop THE BOMB on us! AAAH! That's THREE things that can
- happen! At LEAST one is just BOUND to!
-
- Run for hills, motherfuckers! And take your brats with you.
-
- In brief, I've got some problems with the hegemony of apocalyptic
- doom that's been going around for the last, oh, say, 100 years. No
- matter who you talk to, it seems, everyone has at least one doom
- issue on their minds. Either it's the fucking Christians planning for
- HIS imminent return; or it's the jerk-offs who quote Nostradamus at
- length; or it's the h-bomb paranoids buying into the government's
- pitch for nuclear exclusion in the name of saving the world; or worst
- of all, it's the environmentalists screaming at you to save the earth
- by recycling your newspapers. YOU'RE ALL VICTIMS OF BLATANT
- MILLENARIANISM, YOU DUMB SHITS.
-
- Stand back. Take a number. One at a time.
-
-
- Christians
- ==========
- A couple months back, here in Philadelphia, billboards popped up
- proclaiming September, 1994 as judgment time. They gave an 800
- number which turned out to be a Christian radio station in California.
- They wanted money. How shocking! Christians? God's People?
- Playing on your fears just to get your wallet open?
-
- Check your history books. Look up a certain William Miller. In the
- 1830s, he convinced 50,000 people that the world would end in
- 1843, based on calculations made by cross-referencing Biblical clues,
- specifically Daniel 8:13,14 and Revelations 20:4-6. After 1843 passed
- uneventfully, Bill announced a corrected date of October 22, 1844.
- After this date, too, passed, most of his supporters got fucking smart
- and hit the road. One group of suckers, though, maintained that
- Miller was correct with the prediction, but instead of the end of the
- world (a premillenaristic prophecy), 1843 was really the beginning
- of the Judgment process, to end at an unspecified future date (a
- postmillenaristic assertion). This group is now called the Seventh Day
- Adventists. Ever hear of them? They're probably the largest group of
- postmillenarists in the world.
-
- And they're not the only assholes out there. Look up Charles Taze
- Russell. He predicted October, 1914 as the end of the world, only to
- see that date pass uneventfully. His people hung with him, and
- continue to be on-the-ready for JC's grand entry. Today, Russellists
- are called Jehovah's Witnesses. Yeh, those fucks. Probably the largest
- group of premillenarists in the world.
-
- But it's not all ancient history. Check out Edgar Whisenant's "On
- Borrowed Time." He predicted September 11-13, 1988, as the time of
- "rapture." Then he went for September 1, 1989, with an outside error
- of 1993. Tough luck, eh, Ed?
-
- Of course it's nothing new. Go look into something called the Sibylline
- Oracles. Compiled sometime before the year 1000, they encouraged
- Christians to see themselves as "the Chosen People of the Lord--
- chosen both to prepare the way for and to inherit the Millennium."
- No shit. Do you know how much panic those writings caused during
- the approach of the Year 1000? Everywhere you turned, there was a
- new millenarist proclaiming the end of the world and the return of
- Christ. Yeh, that's right, 1000 fucking years ago. But don't take my
- word for it, go read The Year 1000 by Henri Focillon. It's the book
- that will shut your apocalyptic Christian trap.
-
- So why 2000? Well, Christians point to the Bible for their evidence.
- Some acid trip nonsense about 1000 years of Christ and another
- 1000 years of heaven on earth. You want an original idea from me?
- Here it comes, and you better not steal it, or I'll sue your ass. Maybe-
- -just maybe--ONE THOUSAND is the largest arbitrary number that
- the translators of the Bible could envision, eh? You know how you
- say "Man, I'd like a million dollars." Why 1 million? Why not 2
- million? Or 1.38 million? Because it's the best large, round number to
- suit your needs. Hold on, all you geniuses, this idea goes beyond the
- simple round number theory of millenarianism. It's about paradigms.
- Example: Carl Sagan's "billions and billions" of stars. Why not
- "millions and millions?" Because a billion is closer to infinity? No.
- Because we can easily count a million stars; people can EASILY put a
- finite perception on a puny MILLION. "Millions and millions of stars"
- didn't carry the same punch as "billions" because we're jaded by the
- attainability of one million. So we got "billions." Similarly, I'd bet the
- house that if the Bible were translated today, fresh, that passage in
- Revelations would point to a Million-Year (or Billion-Year) Reign of
- Christ, because ONE THOUSAND YEARS would seem miniscule,
- considering there have been Chinese Dynasties that lasted longer. So
- we'd get ONE MILLION as the appropriately awesome number, and in
- the year 999,999 people would be shitting themselves silly.
-
-
- Nostradamians
- =============
- This one's easy. Doesn't it occur to you that this jerk Nostradamus
- was himself nothing more than a victim of religious millenarianism?
- Why the fuck else would he place the end of the world at the very
- end of his own millennium? Why not 1793? 1845? Nope. Had to be
- close to 2000. Nostradamus was a religious man, kids. He read the
- Bible. And he fell for it, too.
-
- We just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time: the end
- of the millennium. So stop producing TV shows about Nostradamus,
- will you? Just stop this kiddie-scaring crap.
-
-
- Paranoids
- =========
- You remember "The Day After?" That fucking movie scared the piss
- out of me as a kid. Nightmares for weeks. You know what that movie
- was, don't you? An easy way to approve a larger defense budget.
-
- And it's still the same way. North Korea might have nuclear weapons.
- Radical Middle Eastern countries might have nuclear weapons. So
- what? Listen, if WE didn't use OURS (and we were, I assure you, the
- most likely to have launched a first strike), and the Soviets never
- used THEIRS, you think the North Koreans are about to use the ones
- they MIGHT have? Of course not. And hell, even if they do, what the
- fuck are you going to do about it?
-
- So the Pentagon keeps getting the cash to fund nuclear weapon
- development. More spy satellites are launched. And you sit in your
- house afraid of the end of the world. That's just plain dumb.
-
-
- Environmentalists
- =================
- So you're not religious. You're not particularly political, and you're
- smart enough to not worry about nuclear bombs falling on the
- farmland. That Nostradamus crap never even gave you the shivers.
- But you really do think that this environmental issue needs to be
- addressed, right? Mother Earth is gasping for breath? The ozone
- layer? The landfills?!
-
- Whatever you say. Sure, the planet is fucked. But you think that
- recycling your cans and newspapers for a couple years will solve the
- problem? Think Locally, Act Globally? HA! You and me ain't the
- problems, buddy (well, I might be one of the problems, actually.) It's
- humanity's consumption OVERALL. You've got a refrigerator?
- Whoops, big problem. You use batteries? Shit, they clog landfills. You
- drive a car? Man, that's a lot of pollution.
-
- Of course it's not good for the environment. Big fucking surprise. But
- do you really think it's the end of the world? It's not. This planet is a
- lot bigger than us, and if wants us gone, then we're gone. Who knows
- what those pesky dinosaurs were up to? They might've been
- washing their fucking shorts in the oceans and dirtying up the water.
- Look what happened to them. Poof! Gone. Simple as that.
-
- I'm not really taking issue with the idea that we're doing something
- wrong. Of course we are. WE'RE ALWAYS DOING SOMETHING WRONG.
- WE'RE HUMANS. But it's just like worrying about North Korea having
- the bomb--waste of time. When the world becomes inhospitable for
- human life, we'll pull up tent and hit the road. Or we'll learn to
- breath carbon monoxide. Or just peel off that annoying case of skin
- cancer and grow out of it, like acne. Christ, man, we'll adapt. Or die.
- And fuck the scenery; I don't spend much time outdoors anyway.
- And there's always Vu-Masters.
-
- If it were the year 1234, or 6573, or 809145, we wouldn't be trying
- to save the environment. I guarantee it. We'd still be dumping our
- old motor oil in the sewers. Everything would still be made out of
- Styrofoam. When we found that hole in the ozone layer, we'd've just
- put on stronger sunblock. We're stupid and ignorant. It's our nature.
- If it weren't for a nice round number heading our way, we wouldn't
- even notice the impending doom.
-
-
- What's to Come
- ==============
- Remember the opening quote? Go back and read it. It's from Norman
- Cohn's The Pursuit of the Millennium, (Oxford University Press, New
- York, 1970, p.282). You know what that means? THINGS ARE GOING
- TO GET WORSE. In a few years, after every person in every country
- has seen AIDS kill their friends and family, the prophets will be
- everywhere. The religious zealots, the political paranoid freaks, and
- the Whole Earthers begging for environmental penance. In fact,
- they've already got their angles: God sent AIDS to punish; the
- government created AIDS; Mother Earth is using AIDS to thin the
- population. You've already heard them, and you're going to hear
- more. Shit, they've probably already got their pamphlets in
- storage.
-
- JUST YOU WATCH. The End is Near. Or so they say.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 15.
-
- Here's What I've Been Doing for Kicks
- -------------------------------------
-
- The A-Bones--Maxwells, NJ--June 4, 1994
-
- Seven years ago, Tom & I went to a waterfront festival in Hoboken,
- NJ. It was a fine Saturday. We strolled around the docks, ate over-
- priced food, and saw this crazy little band called "The A-Bones." Since
- that first waterfront show, I have seen the A-Bones at least 50 times.
- Why the A-Bones? Fuck, daddy-o. They are the best swamp-abilly,
- goddamn rock 'n' roll band to be found. For 10 years, they played
- rock-abilly the way it was meant to be--loud, fast & danceable. And
- I've danced at A-Bones shows. Hell, yes. I've gotten drunk at A-
- Bones shows, too. Hell yeh! In the mood to hoot and holler and dance
- around like an asshole with strangers? A-Bones. Want to hear a band
- and jump around in a crowd WITHOUT the hostility of jerk-off
- suburban kids acting like bad-ass punk rockers? A-Bones. Wanna
- drink?? A-Bones. Well, you COULD HAVE done those things, if you'd
- seen them before June 4th. But the A-Bones are now DEAD. Yep.
- They've broken up. Billy & Miriam (ex-Cramps drummer from the
- old days) run Norton Records and are doing well enough to do it full
- time (read about Norton Rec's in one of the REsearch volumes). And I
- assume the rest of the band have other things to do as well. So on
- Saturday, June 4, 1994, they played their farewell show for a
- roomfull of regulars--people I've seen at shows for the last 7 years,
- but have never spoken with; girls I've danced with but never gotten
- a name. Amy & I swung ourselves around like idiots. They played an
- hour and a half, complete with guest appearances by The Great
- Gaylord (a.k.a. the Sultan of Squat) and some old rockabilly singer
- who I didn't recognize but I'm sure is famous in that circle. God bless
- you, A-Bones. You will be missed. See you at the first reunion gig.
-
-
- Mule, Arcwelder, Kepone--Khyber Pass, Philadelphia--May 5
-
- I knew the name, but I couldn't place Kepone. UNTIL I saw the bass
- player and remembered them as the band that bored me when they
- opened for Jesus Lizard some time back. They sound good for a few
- seconds, but quickly becoming monotonous. And that fucking bass
- player can't seem to keep his tongue in his mouth. Arcwelder,
- though, were real fucking good. Basic loud, noisy guitar-driven songs.
- And try as I might, I couldn't think of a bad thing to say, except
- maybe that the guitar/vocalist was too pretty, or was trying to be
- pretty. Shit, I'm supposed to be critical, right? Regarding MULE: hey,
- it was a Thursday night and we were tired. We left before Mule got
- on. I'm sure it was a mistake, but I make mistakes every day. One
- more won't hurt. Next time, Mule.
-
-
- Thurston Moore, Lee Ranaldo--Khyber Pass, Philadelphia--April 27
-
- I wouldn't recognize Lee Ranaldo if he stepped on my foot, so I didn't
- realize he was one of the two guys who opened up, playing with their
- guitars and synthesizers. What one of the local rags called "a wall of
- buzz," I call shitty guitar art noise. Sorry, Lee. And the same goes for
- the 2nd act, a very hip japanese noise rocker (whose name I've lost)
- who played with his guitar for 20 minutes. But Thurston's little side
- project was pretty good. Not amazing, but worth 6 bucks on a
- Wednesday night. Sounding like Sonic Youth outtakes from the last 2
- albums, the band was entertaining enough to keep me there. I
- would've preferred something a little more daring, or something, but
- it was just right for the kids in their "Goo" t-shirts.
-
-
- The Fenwicks--Brownies Pub, NYC--April 30
-
- Many years ago, I heard a punk cover of "I am the Walrus" and, ever
- since, I've stood by the statement that "The only good Beatles song is
- a covered Beatles song." Test it out for yourself. And if you still don't
- believe it, go see The Fenwicks perform "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da" at a
- fever-pitched ska beat. The Fenwicks are not normally my thing,
- describing themselves as a ska-funk-punk-amalgamation (or
- something like that), but I did enjoy them live. The main
- entertainment onstage is the singer; he's a fucking goofball. Half
- eccentric (a la Tom from Alice Donut) and half Art School/Theater
- reject, he's got quite an act, including stuffing his harmonica in his
- mouth (width-wise) and playing it, and later playing a tune on a
- plastic trumpet with his nose. Their album is called "Member of No
- Tribe," out on Argus Records. Give it a shot, if you feel like it. But do
- see them live if you have the chance.
-
-
- Shellac, Brick Layer Cake, Rodan, Shortie--Thread Waxing Space,
- NYC--May 9
-
- Tom has a tape of a show from WFMU (the ONLY thing I miss about
- living in North Jersey) that announces--among other amazing shows-
- -Big Black appearing at CBGB's. This was 1986 or so. We were
- working; we didn't go. In 1988, Rapeman played The Roxy in New
- Brunswick, NJ. I was new to the area and didn't know where The
- Roxy was; I didn't have a car; I didn't know anyone to ride with; I
- didn't go. In 1989, Flour played Maxwells with Albini guesting on
- guitar; I was working again; I didn't go. Now--eight years after
- falling in love with Atomizer--I REFUSE to miss the latest Albini
- incarnation. So Tom and I drove to NYC this Monday night. And fuck
- me, wasn't it worth it. We sat outside while Shortie was on, though
- they sounded good from the street. Rodan was good enough to enjoy.
- Brick Layer Cake (Todd Trainer, Shellac drummer, singing) sucked
- ass; with or without Albini smacking the drum for them, they were a
- band to endure, not enjoy. Sorry, Todd. You seem like a nice chap,
- but, well, sorry. But then Shellac came on and kicked the shit out of
- this (mostly) industry crowd. (It was such an industry show that
- there was a back area set aside with a monitor and bar--for the label
- people who didn't want to get too close to the band, but wanted to
- see how they'd look on TV. Even Todd Trainer bitched that he's
- "played 13 shows on this island, but together they don't add up to
- the fucking guest list for this show.") Shellac played 4 of the 5 single
- songs (no "Man who invented fire") and a load of unreleased
- material. It was a truly great show, complete with heckling kids in
- the audience and a surprisingly nice rapport with the band. They
- even urged everyone not to pay $25 for copies of their singles at
- Bleecker Bob's; they've got enough copies to go around. A great show,
- a great band. I hope you caught them before they go the way of
- Rapeman. You know how fickle Albini is.
-
-
- Shellac, Brick Layer Cake, Don Caballero--Walnut St., Phil.--May 11
-
- (As I said, I wasn't missing them if I could help it.) I'm a sucker for a
- strong bass line. That's one of the reasons I was always crazy for Big
- Black and why I'm crazy for Shellac. And as luck would have it, Amy
- & I were able to park our asses on the ground next to the bass stack.
- Whooee! Talk about loud. And talk about a great fucking time! Sitting
- there with a couple drinks in my belly, Amy leaning against me in
- these tight shorts, the bass pounding in my stomach, Albini's 12-
- string tearing through my hollow skull--shit, I wanted to throw Amy
- down on the floor behind the drums and fuck her, hard, in tune. Now
- THAT would've been a show. But even if we didn't screw, we did get
- FREE FUCKING BEER. Yes, the guys hosting the party--it really was
- more like a party than an organized show--had a couple kegs of free
- beer. And it was 5 bucks to get in. FUCK ME, it doesn't get better. So
- what more can I add? We skipped out on Brick Layer Cake (having
- been burned on Monday) and saw half of Don Caballero, who were
- ok, you know? Good enough, but not as good as I'd heard. But the
- sound wasn't so hot, unless you were sitting in front of the stacks, so
- I'd go to see Don C again. But then it was over and we went home.
- And fucked, hard. What a perfect night.
-
-
- 1-800-544-2028
-
- I cannot accept automated phone solicitations. I am so fucking sick of
- getting up off my ass to answer the phone, only to hear a fuzzy
- recording asking me to call for more information on real estate, or
- banking, or home repairs. In the right mood, I call the numbers back
- and scream at their machines. Other times, when it's an 800 number,
- I ask people to call them from everywhere in the country. It's my
- aim to make it so uneconomical for these companies to solicit in this
- fashion that they'll stop this shit. So call these fuckers. And stay on
- the line a long time. Thank you.
-
-
- Although I don't expect it to happen often, I do receive free things to
- be reviewed. And unlike CMJ and those other industry jerk-off rags,
- I will tell you what I think of a band, show, etc. With that in mind, I
- will inform you as to which materials were received for free, so that
- you can take any praise with a grain of salt if you don't trust my
- integrity.
-
-
- Surgery--"Shimmer"--Atlantic Records
-
- What we've got here is a slow starter, a real slow starter. Flat out, the
- first 2 songs annoy me: "Bootywhack" and "Off the A List." I've had
- enough tired guitars and slung-low NYC vocals to last a lifetime. But,
- then out of nowhere, "Vibe Out" (4th song) whips in and lifts my
- spirits. And it continues. "D-Nice" is a great track; the guitar is
- interesting, the vocals engaging. Same thing "Gulf Coast Score." But
- then "Didn't I know You Once" loses me like the first couple songs,
- and the album ends on a so-so note with "No 1 Pistola." Overall? Half
- great, half eh. I'll tape the songs I like & forget the rest.
-
-
- The Miss Alans--"Blusher"--BMG/Zoo
-
- A sticker on the shrink-wrapping led me to expect The Miss Alans to
- sound something like Lush, or Luna, or any one of those flaky 4AD
- bands. In any case, I was looking forward to an atmospheric, ethereal
- background music; I had a six of Porter in the fridge and Amy naked
- in the bed. It was going to be a pleasant fuck. But after 2 songs, I had
- to jump up and turn it off. The Miss Alans aren't a pleasant, dreamy
- music. They're shit. The first 10 seconds of the first song are all right.
- Airy, plucky, sythn'd guitar. And then the singer opens his hole and
- out comes crap leftover from a 1986 John Hughes movie. And even
- worse, on a few songs he slips into an inflection like that fuck from
- Smashing Pumpkins; I hate that shit. The worst song of the album is
- far and away "Winona," an honest-to-god sympathy song to the big
- W. The best song? No such beast. Don't give this crap your time.
-
-
- small 23--"True Zero Hook"--Alias Records
-
- The current curse of North Carolina is Superchunk, and the
- comparisons that are inevitably made to any band hailing from that
- area. But even before I checked the production notes and saw NC as
- the home of small 23, I was considering a bill with them opening for
- Superchunk. But that's not to equate the 2 bands--not at all. small 23
- reminds me more of the good (rare) Das Damen song, or "Home
- Again" Doughboys. It's more on that powerpop end of the spectrum.
- And do I know the singer from somewhere else? (I wish I got bio's
- with some of this shit.) Whatever the category, it's a great album. Try
- "Noodles" and "Saturday" for the quick argument.
-
-
- One Nation, underground--compilation--Monkeyland Records
-
- If I liked this kind of music, I'd enjoy this CD more. But the selections
- are mostly the same poppy, radio-ready crap that I avoid in daily
- life. It runs the gamut, at least, from the hippie-edge with The
- Grovers to alternative-metal tracks from Little Savage and Betty
- Stress to synth/techno-crap from Night Shade. The standout of the
- disc, though, isn't a song--it's a soundbite from "Barfly" included at
- the end of the Zen Parade song. It's the conversation leading up to
- one of my favorite lines of the movie: "Nobody in this neighborhood
- can swallow paste like I can." So I guess I won't throw this CD out,
- like I will The Miss Alans. I'll just leave it on the shelf until I find
- someone to give it to who'll appreciate it more.
-
-
- ExVegas--"1993/Thin Across" 7"--Nylon Rash Records--438 Denison
- St., Highland Pk, NJ 08904
-
- Some bands need to be seen live before they are heard from out of
- the studio. ExVegas is such a band. For instance, I don't like bands
- with female singers who sing like female singers--Scrawl, Throwing
- Muses, etc.--and at first listen, ExVegas should be lumped into this
- bunch. But I saw them live before I heard the single, and it made all
- the difference. 3 guitars, 1 Fender Jazz Bass and a drummer: ExVegas
- is a great band to have blaring out of a large stack in a small venue.
- Live, the singer gets drowned out, which I wish would've happen on
- their recording. I missed their first couple songs, which included a
- cover of HD's "Pink Turns Blue," but enjoyed the half dozen songs I
- did hear. Worth seeing, and even worth a couple bucks for the
- single--especially if you like female singers.
-
-
- Iron City Beer--3 - 40 oz. @ $1.25 ea.--Camden, NJ
-
- After a particularly rough week and accompanying weekend of
- drinking, I decided to dry out for a week or so. It's tough work--
- drinking--you know? I've actually been waking up sore from the
- exertion. Shit, when you're starting at 7 and going 'til 2, it's like
- another fucking job. So I decided to take a vacation; call out sick from
- my boss, Mr. Booze. I didn't drink at Shellac (NYC) mainly because I
- had to drive 100 miles back to Philadelphia at 2 a.m. And I didn't
- drink too much for the local Shellac show, just to see if I could stop
- drinking at 5 drinks. And I did. So confident that everything's OK--no
- trace of alcoholism here, thank you--I stopped at my favorite liquor
- store after work and picked up 3+ quarts of my favorite cheap beer.
- I knew you'd be happy for me. Thanks for the concern.
-
-
- Beer Frame #2--c/o Paul Lukas--160 St. John's Place, Brooklyn, NY
- 11217
-
- A fine publication that has a healthy respect for the swank man and
- America's by-products, "Beer Frame" offers a wonderful listing of
- some of the more odd objects and services to be found in this fine
- country, such as Guycan Canned Mutton, the Car John Disposable
- Urinal and a complimentary extra button service by a small shirt
- manufacturer. I'll be sending out my $2 for a copy of #1, since I
- enjoyed #2 so much. You should do the same. Or go find for a copy at
- your local bookstore.
-
-
- Urotsukidoji--Penthouse Distributors
-
- Japanimation with a hardcore demonfuck slant. Even in their
- animation, it seems that the Japanese cannot show pubic hair. Oh
- well. I recently watched the undubbed version with 2 quarts in front
- of me and Peggy Lee playing behind me--I recommend you do the
- same. This is a perfect video for the art school crowd that screams to
- be dangerous, but will cringe and protest when the multi-cocked
- demon rapes a high school cheerleader. Show it at the next hipster
- party you throw.
-
-
- Boxing Helena--Rented--May 13
-
- Holy Cow! What a horrible fucking movie! If I were the King, I'd've
- put a bullet through the TV. Even seeing whats-her-name (the lead)
- with her shirt off didn't help. Whooee! No wonder it bombed! From
- bad dialogue to bad acting to a PATHETIC resolution, this film has
- NOTHING going for it. I cannot believe that in 1993, anyone would be
- stupid enough to use the "it was only a dream" cop-out. Is that Ms.
- Lynch's idea of artsy? Quirky? MACABRE? The ONLY thing that
- could've possibly rescued this movie would've been watching Julian
- Sands fuck Helena the Stump. BUT THEY STOPPED SHORT and
- consequently, this movie is not worth watching at all.
-
-
- Friday Night Asia Fuck--Cinemax
-
- A few months ago, I got a call from a pleasant woman at the cable
- company. She caught me at 8pm and I was already a few drinks into
- the evening. She offered me HBO and Cinamax for $10 a month, for
- both. Shit, I figured, 10 bucks? If I see 3 good movies, it's paid for.
- Then the bill came 4 weeks later--I wasn't being charged a dime.
- And now, 3 months later, still no charge. So we've got 2 movie
- channels which we rarely watch--for free. But about this Asia Fuck
- thing. The last few Friday nights that I've turned on Cinamax, usually
- getting home drunk from a bar or some such place, I've encountered
- softcore porn featuring skanky Asian women screwing old white
- men, or screwing dirty Frenchmen, or screwing each other. Shit, if I
- were paying the 10 bucks a month, I'd consider Cinamax PAID FOR.
- IN FULL. And I suppose if the TV weren't in the living room (and in
- my bedroom instead) then I'd be getting a lot MORE out of these
- movies, you know what I mean? (Get it? I'd be pulling myself, eh?
- Ah, grow up. You do it, too.) But, as it is, I sit back with another drink
- and enjoy the nudity. Is this an official programming decision at
- Cinamax? Did the big wigs decide to feature Asian Fuck Films every
- Friday night? They've already got the Vanguard Cinema, where they
- show ART movies each Wednesday night. And I think they offer a
- Meathead Action Night and a Dismal Romantic Film Feature every
- week, too. Good marketing, Cinamax. Very good marketing. I'm not
- cancelling my subscription (until you make me pay, that is).
-
-
- Rocko's Modern Life--Nickelodeon--Was Sunday a.m.--Now Sunday
- 5:30 p.m.?
-
- Here's the first version of this review, written 5-94, now painfully
- outdated: "If it's not already, RML is sure to become the next big
- MTV hit. Rocko's Modern Life is cool as shit. Rocko is a cynical, dry-
- witted wallaby who lives in a shithole apartment with shit furniture
- and a stupid dog, has loud neighbors (frogs named The Bigheads) and
- has shitbag friends, principal among them being a cow appropriately
- named "Heffer." Heffer is the adopted son of a family of wolves who
- regularly serve him beef for dinner. Sarcastic, intelligent and
- obnoxious, RML is the perfect entertainment for nursing that Sunday
- morning beer, with or without the kids." Problem is, RML has already
- been picked up by mtv! FUCK! AND they moved it to the late
- afternoon! I'm a fucking cultural prophet, I tell you! First early-60's
- swank cocktail jazz, now Rocko! In any case, my thanks to Amy for
- introducing me to Rocko. (Hmmmaybe Amy's the prophet this
- time?) And fuck "Entertainment Weekly" for calling RML a Ren &
- Stimpy knock-off.
-
-
- The Operation--The Learning Channel--May 17, 8:00 pm
-
- I was eating dinner and flipping around the channels. Then--glory
- be!--a man's sac fills the screen. Enter a doctor: he grabs one of the
- balls, squeezes it tightly in his fist, pulling the normally-wrinkled
- flesh nice 'n taut, and SLICES IT OPENS. Whoa, mother! Stopped me
- dead, I'll tell you! It took half a dozen slices to get through all the
- veins to the ball itself. And it was a fucking mess! I cringed and
- turned the channel. After finishing my food, I turned it back on. By
- this time, the doc was deep into this guy's testicle, noodling around,
- looking for something. And you know what? A man's balls, flayed
- wide open, look EXACTLY like a woman's genitals when you take 2
- fingers and spread the lips. Raw flesh, baby. Watch "The Operation,"
- weekly (Tues. nights, I think), on The Learning Channel. But finish
- your dinner first.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 18.
-
- The New Third Reich: Dave & Buster's
- ------------------------------------
-
- I sometimes wish that I didn't use vulgar language so often; I've
- become jaded & desensitized to the impact of obscenity. The English
- language simply doesn't contain some of the words I need.
- Specifically, the words I need to convey my utter disgust and
- contempt for a place called Dave & Buster's, located on the
- waterfront here in Philadelphia. Based in Texas, D&B's has opened a
- couple of these places across the country. Basically, it's a Chuck-E
- Cheese with liquor; a giant arcade with Bennigans-style bars and
- food. They cater to the white 20-something crowd that wants to go
- out, have a safe time and not question their hosts. The patrons of
- D&B's are the same element that, in Mussolini's Italy, said "I don't
- know nothing from a totalitarian dictatorial regime. The trains are
- running on time, eh, paisan? Keep you mouth a-shut." But I'm getting
- ahead of myself.
-
- A couple of Tom's friends were coming into town and we decided to
- go out with them. One of them, Jim, is a bit of a cheeseball. He enjoys
- the places that the Philadelphia waterfront has to offer--big hair,
- tight pants, abundant assholes. He wanted to go to Dave & Buster's,
- much to my dismay. Dave & Buster's is immense, the size of an
- airplane hanger, filled basement to ceiling with suckers and assholes.
-
- We paid $5 to get in--fine, fine; I'd already written the night off as a
- disaster. Tom & I were both wearing hats; we had to remove them to
- get past the door. On the way up the escalator, I was struck with
- image of Don Johnson descending into the underground, future-
- America in "A Boy and His Dog." And the analogy held up--no "loud
- or abusive language" was posted on a sign near the bar. It was Texan
- ideals (Read: backwards, conservative) carried to an extreme. Five
- minutes in the hole, I said "Fucking Budweiser" a little too loudly and
- was scolded BY THE FUCKING BARTENDER to "keep it calm, now."
-
- We had a couple drinks and stood amidst shitheads pumping money
- into VIDEO GAMES. Men and women in the 20's and 30's PLAYING
- FUCKING VIDEO GAMES. There's one of those bullshit "Virtuality" rigs
- and a "virtual" golf that you rent for $20/hr. I couldn't believe what
- I was seeing. A giant Nintendo nightmare. One big fucking scam. And
- it was PACKED.
-
- Needless to say, Tom & I put our hats back where they were meant
- to be--on our heads. Within minutes, a D&B Stormtrooper was in our
- faces, aggressive: "I KNOW you were told to take those hats off." He
- could've been polite. you know? He could've ASKED us to remove the
- chapeaus. But he was an asshole. "Sure, sure. They're off," I say.
- "Fine," he responds, "keep them off." As he turned to walk away, I
- called him a Fascist. Affronted, he threatened to throw us out, but we
- parlayed that into our "First Warning." (I SWEAR THIS IS TRUE.) I
- told Tom then-and-there that we would be kicked out before the
- night was over; there was no other logical conclusion. And sure as
- shit, after a few more drinks, we donned the hats and the same SS
- Fucker said we were "OUTTA HERE." He called 4 other Fucks and we
- were impolitely escorted to the door. Along the way, we proclaimed
- to everyone watching the scene that we were being kicked out
- "because we're genetically inferior--you're next, brown eyes! They're
- Nazis!"
-
- Outside, one of the genius managers got in our faces. Ten bouncers
- (big motherfuckers, real big: "If I had six inches, and maybe fifty
- pounds, and maybe if I had kung fu training, then maybe you'd have
- to watch your ass.") surrounded us on the sidewalk, itching to throw
- a punch. Tom and I stood firmly, smart enough to keep our fists at
- our sides. I normally disdain the litigious segment of bloodsucking
- American society that uses lawsuits to supplement their income, but
- that Saturday night, I PRAYED to get hit. Just ONE PUNCH,
- motherfuckers, PLEASE, and I'll bring this cocksucking, right-wing,
- Nazi company to its knees. Mr. Dave & Mr. Buster themselves will be
- kissing my ass! But the bouncers were too well-trained to place an
- unprovoked shot.
-
- Two highlights of the sidewalk confrontation: 1. After repeatedly
- calling the whole pride of shits a bunch of "fucking fascists," the
- manager turned to one of the bouncers: "I think 'DESE guys are the
- communists, don't you?" Brilliant. 2. The D&B shuttle bus (NO SHIT)
- pulled up and we tried to board, to get a ride back to our car a couple
- blocks away. The manager, of course, wouldn't let us. Tom: "I was
- planning on taking this shuttle to mass transit, so that I don't have to
- drive drunk from DAVE & BUSTER'S, but even though I'm a paying
- customer, you won't let me use it? So now I get behind the wheel,
- kill some people, maybe your wife and kids, and you're going to be
- liable. Fine. Let's go drive drunk, Jeff!" "Whoooee!" I respond, "Let's
- go run over the fascist's whore wife and bratty kids!" They did call
- over a cab for us, but refused to pick up the bill, so we drove home
- where we drank for another 2 hours, doing our best to keep the
- anger down under a complacent haze of booze. It was an infuriating
- night that will stick with me for weeks.
-
-
- I long ago dropped the notion of getting justice through consumer
- action. When a company fucks you, and you look for retribution, the
- best you'll get is a form letter, or maybe a free coupon or two. So I
- don't bother. I don't try to arrange boycotts. I don't expect a refund.
- I don't expect shit. Instead, I do my best to incur expense. I do this
- by occupying managers' time and running up 800-line charges (see
- page 16). Unfortunately, D&B's doesn't have an 800-line, but they do
- have a regional manager. His name is Mike Plunkett. Write him at
- 2751 Electronic Lane, Dallas, TX 72520. I'm planning on writing one
- letter a week. Well-written, intelligent letters that make it clear how
- disgusted I am with the Dave & Buster's Reich. I don't plan on
- receiving anything more than a token response--I won't be getting
- my $5 back, for instance. But it will cause Mike Plunkett to take an
- hour (salary $$) to make some phone calls (toll charge $$), talk to the
- Philadelphia managers (more salary $$) and have his secretary print
- up and send out the standard disgruntled customer response letter.
- So if you've got nothing to do one day at work, write Mike a letter
- saying that you'll never patronize their Southern-minded, white-boy
- fascist establishments. But don't tell them I sent you; I don't need the
- legal hassle. The Nazi Logo (--print version--) is going to cause me
- enough problems.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 19.
-
- Trepane Yourself for Enlightenment
- ----------------------------------
-
- The Greeks did it. The Romans did it. The Egyptians did it. Ancient
- Peruvians and the Neolithic French (as far back as 10,000 years ago!)
- did it. What--pray tell--am I talking about?!
-
- TREPANATION
-
- Synonymous with TREPHINATION, trepanation has been around for
- thousands of years. In the strictest sense of the word, "to trepane" is
- nothing more than opening a hole in the skull, usually for medical
- purposes. But we're interested in the more spirited experiments with
- skull digging.
-
-
- History
- =======
- In the Cuzco region of Peru, more than 9,000 trepanned skulls have
- been unearthed, many dating back to the first millennia before
- Christ. In one Paracas Indian site south of Lima, more than 10,000
- well-preserved bodies have been found, with more than 6 percent of
- the skulls showing evidence of having been trepanned. That's a lot of
- drilling for a fairly primitive culture. Of course, these holes were
- PROBABLY made in the interest of medical experimentation. The
- society's doctors likely rounded up the slaves (or working class, or
- whatever they had at the time) and opened up their skulls to see
- what would happen.
-
- In the 19th century, 120 prehistoric skulls were found across
- European archeological sites. Of these, 40 had manmade cranial
- breaches! Coincidence? Maybe. Mere injuries? Maybe. But take a look
- at the skull presented by Paul Broca in the 1800's (below). The
- opening in this skull is unquestionably MANMADE, evidenced from
- the cross-hatched incisions. It was also Broca's opinion that the
- opening was made while the individual was ALIVE and that there
- were no fractures or injuries to require this trepanation. Ah ha! Proof
- of voluntary trepanation? May be, buster.
-
- In brief, it seems that EVERYBODY WAS OPENING UP THEIR FUCKING
- SKULLS!
-
- Why, you ask? There are 3 theories. 1: to treat depressed skulls
- fractures (a medical procedure); 2: to treat headaches, convulsions
- and mental disorders (in the Middle Ages, holes were drilled in
- skulls to let demons out; artwork of the rigs included in print
- version); or 3: those who survived trepanation were endowed with
- special mental powers. That's where my money is, momma. Just ask
- Joey Mellen and Amanda Fielding. They're a couple in England who
- drilled holes in their heads and claim to have never been happier.
-
-
- Modernity
- =========
- In 1962, the Dutch doctor Bart Hughes put forth a radical new idea.
- He observed children and adolescents and determined that as we
- grow older, we lose touch with a childish intuition and perception
- that is dependent on the volume of blood flowing to the brain. He
- reckoned that infants have the most desirable view of life, since their
- skulls are essentially wide open and the brain is free to pump as
- much blood as their little hearts permit. As we age, our skulls slowly
- harden and gravity thereby restricts the blood flow over our gray
- matter. He said that an individual can temporarily adjust this
- situation through a number of methods, such as jumping form a hot
- bath into a cold one, standing on your head, or the use of drugs. But
- Dr. Bart was looking for something a little more permanent, so he cut
- a small hole in his skull with an electric drill. HE NEVER FELT BETTER!
- Dr. Bart was thrown into a Dutch asylum after he publicly praised the
- benefits of trepanation.
-
- In 1965, Joey Mellen met Dr. Bart and became entranced by the idea
- of enlightenment through trepanation. Shortly, Joey himself was
- ready to put a hole in his own skull. One weekend, apartment-sitting
- for Amanda Fielding, who was away for the weekend with Dr. Bart,
- he made up his mind and bought a manually-operated trepan
- (probably similar in fashion to those from the Middle Ages), a bunch
- of hypodermic needles, a local anesthetic, and tabs of LSD. On his first
- attempt, it was impossible to get a groove started. So he called Dr.
- Bart, who agreed to return and help Joey. But Doc' Bart was refused
- entry at the British border.
-
- Amanda took Bart's place to give Joey a hand. She took the trepan
- and got the saw-teeth started; Joey then cranked the saw, after
- dosing with LSD again. Things went smoothly for hours--the hole was
- coming along nicely. Then Joey collapsed. Ambulances were
- summoned, and the doctors at the hospital were horrified by the
- home-surgery. The psychiatrists were called in and so onthey let
- him out with warnings of instant death, etc.
-
- But Joey ain't no slouch. His third attempt was a success. Here, in his
- own words, is the moment of truth:
-
- "After some time there was an ominous sounding schlurp and the
- sound of bubbling. I drew the trepan out and the gurgling continued.
- It sounded like air bubbles running under the skull as they were
- pressed out. I looked at the trepan and there was a bit of bone in it.
- At last! On closer inspection I saw that the disc of bone was much
- deeper on one side than on the other. Obviously the trepan had not
- been straight and had gone through at one point only, then the piece
- of bone had snapped off and come out. I was reluctant to start
- drilling again for fear of damaging the brain membranes with the
- deeper part while I was cutting through the rest or of breaking off a
- splinter. If only I had an electric drill it would have been so much
- simpler. Amanda was sure I was through. There seemed no other
- explanation for the schlurping noises. I decided to call it a day. At the
- time I thought that any hole would do, no matter what size. I
- bandaged up my head and cleared away the mess." from Bore Hole
- (publisher, etc., unknown)
-
- Though he writes that Amanda was sure he was through, Joey wasn't
- certain. He couldn't be sure that the euphoria he felt was from the
- hole, or from the cessation of drilling, So in the Spring of 1970, with
- Amanda away in American, Joey took his fourth shot at his skull.
- Using an electric drill, Joey worked for an hour and a half until the
- drill burned out. The next day, with a borrowed drill from a
- neighbor, he took crack number 5. Again, in his own words:
-
- "This time I was not in any doubt. The drill head went at least an
- inch deep through the hole. A great gush of blood followed my
- withdrawal of the drill. In the mirror, I could see the blood in the
- hole rising and falling with the pulsation of the brain."
-
- Joey's spirits rose higher and higher until he reached a state of
- freedom and serenity which he claims has been with him ever since.
- When Amanda returned, she was envious, so they went to work on
- her. With a new electric drill and a movie camera, Amanda Fielding
- put a hole in her head ON FILM. The film of Amanda's skull dig is
- entitled "Heartbeat in the Brain" and I have been unable to track it
- down.
-
- Amanda and Joey live happily in Chelsea, have a child, own an art
- gallery, and lecture on the benefits of trepanation. I wrote them a
- letter a month or so ago and have yet to get a response. It is possible,
- of course, that this information is pure shit, but I'd like to imagine
- otherwise. When I get a response--if I get a response--you'll be
- reading it here. Watch this space.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 20.
-
- DIY Trepanation
- ---------------
-
- If you're like me, the first question you're yourself asking is HOW?
- How can I do this in the privacy (and comfort) of my own home?
- Well, I'm here to tell you.
-
- The Tools
- =========
- I took a trip to Rickel and Pathmark in search of the right
- trepanation equipment at the right prices. I
- followed three guidelines:
-
- 1. Buy only dependable hardware--having the drill crap out in the
- middle of the procedure would be a problem, I feel.
-
- 2. Try to save money--this ain't like suicide; you've still got to pay
- the rent, even with a hole in your head.
-
- 3 Buy American--I don't know why; standing in the hardware
- section, though, it seemed like the right thing to think.
-
- I shopped in the order the procedure would follow: Situate Yourself
- in some stable manner, Prepare the Drill, Assemble the First Aid,
- Make the Hole.
-
-
- Situate Yourself
- ================
- I considered 2 possibilities: a friend will help you trepane, or you
- will trepane yourself. If a friend will be assisting you, the shopping
- list is considerably shorter:
-
- --3 1/2" Steel Beam Vice Bench SWL BS ($69.99).
- This is the typical vice you find in any typical workshop or garage: a
- big, red chunk of steel bolted onto a workbench or table. I found that
- my head fit inside this model with half an inch to spare on either
- side--PERFECT! With a couple rags to protect the sides of your head,
- your buddy will have a good angle of approach, and you won't twitch
- or flinch when the hole gets started. Also look into the situation
- proposed below, for the Solitary Trepane. It involves 2 smaller vices
- and 1 wood vice, but might be more comfortable. Also refer to page
- 23 for more details.
-
- --8" C-Clamp. Steel. ($12.49).
- This is listed only as an alternative to the above vice, just in case $70
- puts you over budget. I'm warning you, though, that trying to keep
- yourself still--even with your head secured by a c-clamp --will be
- difficult. And could be dangerous. And shit, who can't use a vice,
- anyway?
-
- And if you're doing this alone:
-
- --2 - 2" Steel Beam Vices ($24.99 ea.).
- Smaller versions of the above-listed vice, these 2 vices will be used
- to hold the wood clamp (listed below) in place. Be sure to securely
- bolt these babies down--find a heavy workbench or table.
- n4 12" Rock Hard Maple Standard Wood Clamp,
-
- --KC Professional [no. 94644] ($19.99).
- This is a standard wood clamp you see used every week on The
- Yankee workshop. Tighten one of these on your head and hold the
- clamp itself in place using the 2 vices listed previously. This will give
- you full access to your forehead and the top of your skull, all the
- while keeping you in place. MADE IN USA.
-
- --18" Quik-Grip ($26.99)
- From the makers of Vice-Grips (one of my favorite tools--probably
- everyone else's, too), I found that the grips weren't deep enough and
- didn't offer enough "grab" for my comfort. Definitely stick with the
- wood clamp. MADE IN USA.
-
- --Prolite Tool Bag ($15.99)
- Once your head is clamped down, you won't be left with much
- mobility. This in mind, I'd purchase a tool belt to keep the booze (see
- page 21), your drill and first aid supplies in easy reach.
-
- --Nicholas Lifter's Belt ($34.99)
- This isn't a WEIGHT lifter's belt--it's a package lifter's belt. See, my
- back is sensitive to trauma. And if I'm going to drill a hole in my
- head, the last thing I want to do is throw my back out with all the
- thrashing about; a lifter's belt will keep my back straight and
- prevent unwanted lateral motion. So for me, the $34.99 is worth it.
- Consider it.
-
-
- Prepare the Drill
- =================
- Again, we must consider that you may or may not have a friend
- assisting you, and shop accordingly.
-
- With a friend helping out, make his/her job as easy as possible. Buy
- this drill:
-
- --DeWalt Professional Rev. Spade Handle 1/2" Drill
- ($156.99)
- Sure, it's an expensive drill. But this is the motherfucker of all drills
- available for less than $200. TWO HANDLES (one on the side, one at
- the rear). Triple gear reduction. 100% Ball and Roller Bearing. 7.0
- amps. 450 rpm. Rear handle adjustable in 90 increments. Fairly
- lightweight. Reversible. With this baby in hand, your friend will
- ENJOY liberating your brain. MADE IN USA.
-
- If you're going this alone, though, you've got to consider other
- qualities in a drill: ease-of-use? Is it lightweight? Is it unwieldy? A
- 2-handled beast like the DeWalt will not work. Instead, consider:
-
- --Black & Decker D1000 3/8" Drill ($34.94)
- Single speed, reversible, 2-year warranty, and (most importantly) a
- LOCK-ON BUTTON. This drill is perfect. It's lightweight and simple to
- use. When I asked Jim, the fellow working the hardware department,
- which drill HE would use if he were drilling a hole in his head, he
- told me that "any of the Black and Decker's are top of the line--the
- D1000, though, is a real nice drill, and it's on sale." (No shit, that was
- a real conversation.) SOLD!
-
- So you're all ready to go, right? What kind of drill BIT are you going
- to use, smart guy? Standard wood/ metal? Wood boring? Tile and
- Ceramic? I hadn't considered it, so I had to go back to Rickel the next
- day. I found Jim in hardware and had this conversation (it's true, I
- swear--I polished up his grammar, though; he was a bit of a dolt):
-
- Me: (assuming he remembered me) "So what kind of bit should I
- use?"
- Him: "I think you have to figure out which is best for what you're
- working on."
- Me: "I'm the guy who's drilling the hole in his forehead. I was in
- yesterday. You recommended the Black and Decker D1000."
- Him: "Oh, yeah, I remember you. That's a good drill."
- Me: "So which kind of bit should I use? Wood boring?"
- Him: "You definitely have to figure out which one is best for you
- what you're working on. I don't know about that stuff."
- Me: "This isn't trial and error, Jim. I'm drilling a hole in my head.
- I've got to choose one."
- Him: "I don't know. Sorry."
-
- So these are my choices:
- --Black and Decker Standard Wood/Metal bits
- 7/16", 15/32" or 1/2" (B&D #s 15639, 15641, 15643; $7.49, $7.49,
- $9.99)
- These are the normal drill bits you'd use to put a hole in the wall, or
- a piece of wood, or a piece of metal. They're also the bits I assume
- most people would use to put a hole in their head. My main concern
- is that it'll be a real slow start to get a good groove in my skull. So I
- considered others.
-
- --Black and Decker 1/2" Wood Boring bit
- (B&D # 17204; $2.99)
- These bits are used to put larger holes in wood. They are very mean
- looking. (see illustration). Described on the package as "fast, rough
- drilling in all woods," I am afraid this one will tear the shit out of my
- skull and scar real badly, leaving me a freak [sic]. "Always wear eye
- protection." Yeh, no shit. "Money-back guarantee." Sure, but I doubt
- they'd honor it with blood and bone fragments stuck to it.
-
- --Black and Decker 1/2" Glass, Tile bit
- (B&D # 16905; $14.99)
- At first glance, this carbide-tipped, easy-start bit looks perfect (see
- illustration). But then I read the package: "use a slow drilling speed;
- variable or hand drill is ideal." Well, if I'm doing this myself, then
- I've got the B&D D1000, which is single speed. And I sure as fuck
- ain't gonna use a hand drill for this. And, come to think of it, even if I
- do have a variable speed drill like the DeWalt Prof. Spade Handle, I
- don't particularly want to do this slowly, eh? "Apply a lubricant such
- as white spirit or turpentine to keep drill bit cool." The ice cold blood
- in my veins should do the trick.
-
- So there I was: STUCK. I don't know which type of bit to recommend.
- But rather than buy one or the other, and make a mistake, I wrote to
- the professionals: Black and Decker. (See the letter, next page). As
- soon as I get an answer, you'll get the answer.
-
-
- Assemble the First Aid
- ======================
- Whenever you open up any part of your body, something can go
- wrong. Isn't that what we've all learned? Well, trepanation is no
- different.
- Face it. Not many people have access to real medical supplies. Not
- many people can get sedatives, or pain killers, or antibiotics. So I
- took a trip to Pathmark and nosed around the OTC drug and first aid
- aisle.
-
- --J&J Sterile Pads, 4"x4". Box of 25 ($7.99)
- You're going to bleed like sick. Buy 2 boxes.
-
- --Witch Hazel, Generic Brand, 1 qt. ($1.87)
- Buy 3 quarts, close your eyes, and pour it right on your head. It's
- already going to be messy, so what's a little more liquid all over the
- place?
-
- --Cotton Roll ($4.99)
- Wrap yourself up like The Mummy. It'll be fun.
-
- --Liquor (various)
- There is no question in my mind that booze should play a major role
- in your decision to open up your skull. Personally, I'd buy 2 quarts of
- cheap beer ($2.50) and a bottle of really good gin ($23) for the trip.
- Make sure you've got enough liquor for recovery. You will need it.
-
- The strongest over-the-counter topical anesthetic comes in products
- such as Anbesol and Chloraseptic. You might as well buy a shitload of
- it and try to numb yourself beforehand. Check the shelves for
- yourself; the active ingredient you're looking for is BENZOCAINE.
- Check with your pharmacist.
-
- Iodine. Rubbing Alcohol. Neosporin. All of these things will help keep
- your new orifice clean. Go spend $20 on everything you can find.
- And pick up some Advil ($4); you're going to need it.
-
-
- Total Expense
- =============
- So how much is this trip to enlightenment going to cost?
-
- Doing it with a friend:
- 3 1/2" Steel Beam Vice Bench SWL BS 69.99
- DeWalt Pro. Rev. Spade Handle Drill 156.99
- B&D 1/2" Glass, Tile bit (most expensive) 14.99
- First Aid supplies 50.58
- Liquor (various) 25.00
-
- TOTAL: (add your state's sale tax) 317.52
-
- Doing it alone (And doing it right):
- 2 - 2" Steel Beam Vices @ 24.99 ea. 49.98
- 12" Wood Clamp 19.99
- Black & Decker D1000 Drill 34.94
- B&D 1/2" Glass, Tile bit (most expensive) 14.99
- Prolite Tool Bag 15.99
- Nicholas Lifter's Belt 34.99
- Liquor (various) 25.00
- First Aid supplies 50.58
- TOTAL: (add your state's sale tax) 246.46
-
-
- Looks like you'll save about $70 if you take care of business alone.
- But keep in mind, that if you do it with someone else, he/she can
- pick up half of the $318 if they decide to follow your lead. That
- would bring costs down to less than $160 each! Not bad for total
- enlightenment, eh? That's even cheaper than a year's worth of
- church dues, I think.
-
- If you do drill a hole in your head, PLEASE take photos. Or video.
- And send 'em in! Good luck, sucker.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 22.
-
- Actual letter:
-
- PO Box 1646
- Philadelphia, PA 19105-1646
- May 13, 1994
-
-
- Black and Decker
- Customer Relations
- 10 N. Park Drive
- PO Box 798
- Hunt Valley, MD 21030
-
-
- To whom it may concern:
-
- I recently read about a couple in England who have drilled holes in
- their foreheads in an effort to enlighten themselves. I will spare you
- the details, but will mention that they claim to have "never been
- happier."
-
- I am planning to perform this procedure on myself in the immediate
- future. And because of your company's reputation and my past
- experiences with your products, I intend to use Black and Decker
- tools exclusively to accomplish my goal. I have already purchased a
- B&D D1000 for the job--I found it to be a very lightweight, easy-to-
- use drill, on sale at an affordable price! The lock-on button was very
- important, all things considered.
-
- My question is this: which type of drill bit should I use? I'm looking
- for a 3/8" - 1/2" opening. I'm favoring the 1/2" Wood Boring Bit
- (#17204) but am afraid of the package description: "fast, rough
- drilling." Will this be a little TOO rough and hard to handle? I'll be
- doing this alone.
-
- On the other hand, I considered the carbide-tipped, 1/2" Glass and
- Tile bit (#16905). My only problem with THIS bit is the advice on the
- package: "use a slow drilling speed; variable or hand drill is ideal." As
- you well know, the Black and Decker D1000 drill isn't variable speed!
- Maybe I've made a hasty purchase with the D1000? Should I have
- sprung for a more expensive model??
-
- Or should I just stick with a trusty 1/2" metal/wood bit? (Maybe
- #15643?) But I'm afraid it might be difficult (and painful!) to get a
- hole started.
-
- Any advice you provide will be considered with great attention. Your
- hasty response is appreciated, as I am--of course--anxious to get this
- done.
-
- Sincerely,
- Jeff Koyen
-
-
-
- I patiently await their response. Watch next issue.
-
-
-
- Crank@aol.com
- -------------
-
- I am easily reached via the Internet, or less easily via the US Postal
- Service. Either way, I'm here.
-
- The text of this document is available from a variety of sources. FTP
- from etext.archive.umich.edu (pub/zines/crank). Gopher from The
- Well. A bunch of BBSs, including Mac Tersius (215/245-3211). Of
- course, you can email me and ask for a copy. For financial reasons, I
- cannot email copies of the last issue, sorry. FTP or Gopher it.
-
- If you are currently reading CRANK electronically, then you really
- are missing half the fun. Send me $2 and you'll get the printed
- version. Its got a swank, 2-color 80# cover, 28-pages total. Plenty of
- art, etc, to make it worthwhile. And as an extra bonus, you'll get that
- swell feeling gained by supporting independent press.
-
- Crank is also available as a DOCmaker file for AOL Mac users. E-mail
- to "CRANK" on AOL--SPECIFYING THAT YOU WANT THE MAC
- VERSION--and I'll attach it to my response. It'll be a self-extracting
- archive. Or you can send me a floppy, if you are so curious.
-
- My deepest thanks (no shit) to everyone who helped distribute
- CRANK 1.1 worldwide. Yeh, that's right, baby, we made it to Sweden
- and Finland (not to mention Canada and the UK.) God Bless the
- Internet.
-
-
-
- Advertisement
- -------------
-
- For discourse on all things deviant and otherwise, subscribe to the
- Deviants Mailing List, a free Internet service provided by a chap
- named Ian Dickinson.
-
- Subscribe with the email msg: "subscribe [your net address]"
- to:deviants-request@csv.warwick.ac.uk
-
- "Occasionally disgusting--but not always--the home of ranting,
- experimental reports, news clippings and other related items.
- Medical curiosities, cults, paranoia, murders and other phenomena
- are well in place here."
-
- CRANK TESTIMONIAL:
-
- I've been a member of the Deviants Mailing List for a year or so.
- Among other things, I found out about Joey Mellen & Amanda
- Fielding, the British Trepaners (p. 19) from the list. The quality of the
- content is up-and-down, as it depends on the members for
- contributions. But fuck, its free, you know? Subscribe and see if you
- like it. If you don't, then simply unsubscribe. No gun to your head,
- eh?
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 23.
-
- Trepanation: An Illustrated Guide
- ---------------------------------
-
- "I need __________ like I need another hole in my head."
-
- Well, baby, maybe you DO need another hole in your head! Ever
- consider that? Here's THREE FUCKING PAGES dedicated to how we, at
- CRANK, would acquire new holes of our own.
-
- Ink by the Incredible Dennis McGee. Swell typography & call-outs by
- yours truly, Jeff Koyen.
-
- NOTE TO ELECTRONIC READERS:
- For obvious reasons, the artwork cannot be included for your
- consumption. Your loss, I assure you. You're missing detailed
- illustrations of the single-man trepanation with a hand drill, the two-
- man trepanation with a hand drill, and the single-man trepanation
- with a drill press. Yours for $2. Seek the address out elsewhere in
- this issue.
-
-
-
- ************************************
- 26.
-
- Screw Women, Part 2
- -------------------
-
- Q:
- May a woman politely refuse to dance with a man who cuts in?
-
- A:
- No. She must dance with him until a third man cuts in or until the
- music stops. The partner who was first dancing with her should not
- cut back in.
-
- --from Emily Post on Entertaining, Elizabeth L. Post, 1987 (without
- permission-don't tell Emily.)
-
- We are doomed.
-
-
- CONTEST
- -------
-
- Identify the Corporate Spokesman!!
-
-
- NOTE TO ELECTRONIC READERS:
-
- Well, tough shit, but it's a visual thing. Consequently, you're not
- eligible for this zany contest. Tough titties.
-
-
- IN THE WORKS
- ------------
-
- The Bossa Fucking Nova
- Swank Vinyl for Lovers Only
- An Equipment List
- for Living the Low Life
- Interview With A Killer #2
- A Recommendation for Lawyers
- Christ Bashing au Go Go
- And loads more, chump.
-
- CRANK #3: the farce continues
-
- Available mid-October.
-
- Reserve your copy? $2 to PO Box 1646, Phil PA 19105-1646.
-
-
-
- THE END
- CRANK #2. PO Box 1646. Phil PA 19105-1646
-
- Crank logo, icons and contents, copyright 1994 Jeff Koyen
-
- Correspondence welcomed, if not always appreciated.
-
- Regards,
- Jeff Koyen
-
-
-