Æ*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*Æ * __ __ * + _____ ____ ____ ______/ |_____ ____ ___ ______/ |___________ + * \__ \/ \ / __ \/ ___\ __\ \ _ \/ \/ ___\ __/__ \_ __ \ * + / __ \_ | \ /_/ >\__ \| | Y Y \<_> ) | \__ \| |\ ___/| | \/ + * (____ /_| /___ /____ >|__|__|_| /___/__| /___ >|__| \__ \|__| * + \/ \/____/ \/ \/ \/ \/ \/ + * 11.18.02 angstmonster issue 13 * Æ*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*Æ ¡edited (poorly) by gir¡ Perhaps we could use it to strengthen our starcruisers! §+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§ + + + Brief Words from gir + + The Story of How The Villagers Tried To Expand Their Market steak + + Noodle! tildaq + + + + ¡SPECIAL SUB ZINE APPEARANCE BY THE GLUE FACTORY GOES HERE¡ + + + + Make Sure It Say 550 gir + + If I Only Had All The Answers ch33z-1t + + Compressionary Causes koolpeith + + I Am Jack's Opinion On The Matter gir + + + §+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++¡contents¡++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++§ mr jay: You sleep too much all the tiem. mr jay: tiem* gir: DARE YOU SPELL TIME!?!??! mr jay: Fuck it, that's how it's spelled now. --------------- : Brief Words : : From gir : --------------- Earlier tonight I had something to write about but figured I'd save it until all the other important things were taken care of. For some reason, this issue of angstmonster happens to include an insert issue of "The Glue Factory." It seems that this is the first (and most certainly not the last) subzine to be found in the annals of angstmonster. Whether it be theme zines thought up by the writers of angstmonster at a later point in time, or random mini issues of zines put out by our friends like brian and steak*, we promise you, oh humble reader of angstmonster, an occasional issue of something completely different. Maybe it's just filler you say. Then again, maybe we're onto a neat idea. Either way, it's something I think more about as time goes on. (Or like a few other supposed reoccurring ideas I had planned, it'll never surface again!) In other news, I've been listening to too much björk. It's not a bad thing, just a sighful thing. But there are moments in the middle of the night, at three am, that make it worth it I suppose. I was helping Estell carry stuff to her car tonight and as I tend to do, I looked up at the stars as I tend to do and there weren't as many of them. Due to the moon being really bright, the brightest I'd ever seen it. Estell made some comment about the lack of stars in the city and it made me think of every night I come home from work and gaze at the stars on my way inside. And then, three hours pass. Here I am with little to say, and even less of a way to connect it all. That's why there are other people writing for angstmonster. In case stuff like this should happen. As always, eat it up! *brian of cheesencrackers and steak of addendum fame! --------------------------- : The Story Of How : : The Villagers Tried : : To Expand Their Market : : by steak : --------------------------- Once upon a time there was this huge giant that lived in a castle all by himself. He was a gentle giant, he didn't really do much, he liked to get on with his life and not have many people bothering him. He would spend his days having fun and running around outside with the birds and the butterflies. In essence his life was good, he didn't eat small children and he didn't grind their bones to make his bread. Now this giant, he needed something to survive, oatmeal. In the Vietnam war he had been genetically modified by our government to need this to survive, If he didn't have oatmeal he would die a slow and painful death. (This makes his story even more harrowing and depressing than it already is. 'The poor giant' you are meant to think 'How did he survive with such a deficiency?' is another thing you are meant to think) Now in the garden the giant had a tree, this tree was a special oatmeal tree that would provide him with oatmeal once a week. Not much, just a small amount. Just enough for him to live on and that was it. So this seemed all ok, the giant had this deficiency that required him to eat oatmeal, but it's ok because he had an oatmeal tree, so he could eat all the oatmeal he needed to stay alive. But you see, there was one single little problem that the giant often experienced. Whenever he ate oatmeal he would suddenly get massive spasmodic fits. They were in the long term totally harmless, but for the half hour that they lasted they were like having one of those paralysing nightmares on a bad trip coated with rat poison. Suddenly all is not as good as it was two paragraphs before hand. But luckily there was a remedy, if the oatmeal was mixed with apples before being eaten by the giant then it no longer causes these hellish experiences. But there was still a problem; you see the giant's castle didn't have the right soil to grow apples, so he has to buy them from the villagers a short walk down the road. What did the villagers want in return for these apples? Oatmeal. That's right the one thing in the world that the giant needed to survive, the thing that he needed to pay the rent with, the thing that he needed to pay for his college education with (whoops, getting less and less metaphorical by the second there folks, my mistake) But the villagers didn't need it to survive, no they just thought that it looked nice when strategically spread around their garden. So what did these evil villagers do to get as much oatmeal as possible off the giant so that every single little villager could have a nice looking garden? They formed the 'Association Developed by Villagers Encouraging Rights to Trade Items Sellable En-Route to Shoppers' or 'ADVERTISERS' for short. And they spent their entire life developing new, dastardly and underhanded ways of selling the apples to the giant. Any way they could get him to swap his life giving oatmeal for apples they would try it, no matter if it went against every moral principle. No matter if it hurt, maimed or killed someone, they didn't care they would do it all. Can you believe what it must be like to live in a society filled with those kind of people? I feel so lucky to not be a part of all and not to have to live in a world where people take things that we should have for free and mutate them and make it so that it's some sort of commercial privilege to own them while constantly shoving advertisements down our throat trying to manipulate and deceive us into buying things that we don't need. I live in magical land. ------------- : Noodle! : : by tildaq : ------------- RAMEN: So I borrowed some Rameen from a dude named Mavis. I washed my bowl out and proceeded to heat up my Ramen. After I begin eating my Ramen, Mavis comes into my dorm room and says, "Eeeewww! There's too much water in that Ramen!" I was like, "What biatch? You wanna go?" He continued to insult my Ramen-making skills and claiming that there was simply too much H20 around my noodles. I kicked Mavis in the noodle! I kicked Mavis in the noodle! It's smaller than a poodle's NOOODLE! FRUITYLOOPS: I just discovered how to use my keyboard as a piano! It responds like a CAT! IT TAKES FOREVER! You can't possibly play along with something and have stay on beat..... PIRATES: Don't you hate when pirates take over your ship and rape your women? How so, can I borrow a jumbled up bumble. Trinity is all anyone ever has to wonder upon when living among pirates. §-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§-§ "Sometimes, I think you want me to touch you How can I when you build the great wall around you In your eyes, I saw a future together You just look away in the distance." "China" by Tori Amos. §-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§-§ !!!ATENTTION!!! ¡SUB ZINE ALERT¡ !!!ATENTION!!! It's true, the next two articles are in fact articles intended for THE GLUE FACTORY, an ezine for horses and horse lovers. However, they are presented to you here in angstmonster as a gift to all the loyal fans. We know about your "MY LITTLE PONY" collection. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Really... Anyways, enjoy the horseplay! !!!ATENTTION!!! ¡SUB ZINE ALERT¡ !!!ATENTION!!! --^= < > /`'`\ \= < THE GLUE FACTORY > |. \.... ---------\ < > \ '`'`'`\ / \ \ < stolen from stogee > \ | \ \ / < > `.......' ` < the horse zine > /\ /\ < > / \ / \ Hi pals and palominos!!! This edition of The Glue Factory must come to you from this small but homey shack. You see, lightning struck our good old stables and burned them to a crisp. Luckily our horses, being of sound mind and body, managed to escape the flaming death. Next time we'll build the horses a castle of brick, not a barn of wood. In the mean time, enjoy some great literature from this century's greatest new horsewriters! lb =============================================================================== Contents: I. An Excerpt From "Life Science" by nyar II. The Dangers Of Rollerskating by oregano III. canteR by estell IV. BOTCH! by gir =============================================================================== I. An Excerpt From "Life Science" by nyar Excerpt from the textbook "Life Science", Ed Rindel (editor), 5th edition, 1999 Chapter 7: Evolution 7.4 The Evolution of our Species 7.4.1 The Dawn of our Family As described in previous sections, the age of dinosaurs ended abruptly 65 million years ago. Contrary to popular beliefs, an "age of mammals" did not immediately take hold. While mammals did come to eventually dominate terrestrial life, it took time for this to happen. The mammals of this time were small creatures, similar to modern day rodents, lagomorphs and mustelids. In fact, fossils found in what is now South America show a land once dominated by avians. Figure 11 shows a drawing of a phororhacid eating a relatively small mammal. These birds reigned triumphant over the local marsupial mammalians. Regardless of what happened in South America, mammals eventually formed into representatives of the orders we know of today, such as primates, carnivores, equines and cetaceans. Early members of our own order, which began about 55 million years ago are depicted in Figure 12. Note that they have begun to show some of the traits of our own species, but that they still appear somewhat primitive and similar to the ancestral mammals. The offshoot of our order that led to our family and species differentiated itself about 4 million years ago. Figure 12 shows early members of our family. The first tool use of stone tools was approximately 1 million years ago. The hand axe shown in Figure 13 is representative of these primitive, but useful artifacts. It is interesting to note that it appears that there was another order of mammals that also appeared to be developing rudimentary use of tools. The creatures, known as hominids, appear to be an unsuccessful branch of the primate order related to the modern day apes, such as gorillas and chimpanzees. The question of whether these primates were on the road to sentience is one of the greatest debates in modern evolutionary biology. These hominids became extinct roughly 1.5 million years ago. So we have seen how our own genus has evolved from ancient animals, to the first member of our order the Hyracotherium (previously known as Eohippus - the dawn horse) to early members of our own line. * * * * * * * * * The preceding work of fiction is dedicated in memory of Stephen Jay Gould. =============================================================================== II. The Dangers Of Rollerskating by oregano Growing up my father used to tell this story. My dad only has three stories about his childhood, all of them are rather tame and staid, but this one at least starts out promising: The time my dad broke his leg by rollerskating into a horse. On a cold winter day when the family was forced to be inside is when dad first told the story. We were talking about broken bones, and I rattled off all my injuries. Being a rather active and adventurous child I managed to break various limbs before age 10. And we went around and told of our whoas and then dad said that when he was a child he was out rollerskating and ran into a horse and broke his ankle. As children we were delighted to hear such a tale, horses in the streets of Chicago and father somehow hitting one, and then breaking his ankle, what is not to delight to in such a tale. We quizzed him about rollerskates and he told us how these were ones that you attach to your regular street shoes, and were, back then, extra dangerous. But then we ruined things, we asked about the horse, and why it was on his street. That is where the story fell apart and our great dreams of the mounted police or cowboys and indians were dashed. It seems that the horse that our father crashed to -- in an uncontrolled bout of street rollerskating -- was not the horse upon which the cowboys rode, or the ones Chicago cops used to keep law and order in a Chicago street mob. Nope this was a simple wooden horse used to block off the street. I think now we'd call it a barricade, or a "flashing light thingie used to block off a street." But to my dad it was a horse, and for a few brilliant moments we children had thought of my dad having a fantastic adventure, man vs. horse, the struggles of nature and man's place in a world, but like all childhood dreams it was dashed on the rocky shore of reality. Good that not all childhood stories end in such disillusionment or this world would be that sadder a place. For one shining moment our dad had rollerskated into a horse. the end =============================================================================== III. canteR by estell So I sit down in the local coffee house with my friend quartknee and I ask her how to successfully execute the woman on top position. See I had been having issues with my boyfriend wanting me on top all the time and I just wasn't good at it. So I consulted the only person I felt comfortable asking. She looks at me and says "You know that's really the only way I can get off during sex I'm surprised you haven't experimented with it more." I explain my preference for other positions that don't need this kind of explaining and we carry on. She begins to draw a diagram and we both become confused as legs start becoming like jello and quartknee starts wondering how it really is that this phenomenon occurs. Then she figures out the dimensions and I see that I've just been sitting all wrong. Amazing. She continues that my boy toy needs to be elevated as well at a slight angle achieved by approximately three pillows and that my knees should be near my chest not on the bed so as to make a pressure less stressful on the thigh muscles. Amazing I think! It looks so easy. But what about the motion. She looks at me and smiles. "Ever ridden a horse?" she asks. "Well, just canter." =============================================================================== IV. BOTCH! by gir "You've probably never ridden a horse before. Roll a horse riding check." I wake up out of a half daze. To me it seems like everyone else is falling asleep. It's 6 am, why are we still playing? Why am I still here? Regardless, I roll. I rolled a 1. I botched. "Botch." I call out to the dungeon master with a half hearted, half tired, sigh. "Ok, you fall off your horse." For being a ruthless DM, this one is pretty forgiving. Usually, a botch in combat just meant dropping your weapon, or like in this instance, falling off a horse. I've heard stories of far worse fates resulting from a botch. Either way, I slip out of consciousness again. The DM never says that I got back up on the horse. Sometime later I wakeup and our party is in the middle of combat with a nasty dragon. I take a couple of nasty hits each round and drop below the point of no return. I'm really bitter about it for the rest of the morning. None of the other party members care that I died, it just means they'll get a hold of my items. At this point, I'm too tired to mention to the DM that I never got back up on my horse to ride into battle. Instead, I wake up enough to drive myself home and go back to sleep. Who cares if my 7th level sorcerer can't ride a horse? I can drive while I'm half asleep! ============================================================================== !!!ATTENTION!!! ¡END SUB ZINE NOW¡ !!!ATTENTION!!! If you, oh faithful reader of angstmonster, were very much confused by that last bit, fear not. We return you to the wonderful, mythical world of angstmonster with an oregano moment. Sorry for all the confusion! !!!ATTENTION!!! ¡END SUB ZINE NOW¡ !!!ATTENTION!!! 0=<=>=<=>=<=>=AN=<=>=<=>=OREGANO=<=>=<=>=<=>=MOMENT=<=>=<=>=<=>=0 maybe if USA invaded in WWII, instead of bombing, there would be a lot more japanese in Heaven right now 0=<=>=<=>=<=>=AN=<=>=<=>=OREGANO=<=>=<=>=<=>=MOMENT=<=>=<=>=<=>=0 ------------- : Make Sure : : It Says : : 550 : : by gir : ------------- "I'm wearing pajama pants! I'm wearing pajama pants! Watch me do this little dance, in the name of my pajama pants! I'm wearing pajama pants! I'm wearing pajama pants! Why's that you ask?" Wait. Does pants rhyme with ask? Could I fake it if I had to? "What the hell are you singing?" "The pajama pants song. It's going to rock when I'm done with it!" "It doesn't rock now?" "Well, right now it's just a hecka sweet chorus. I'm not sure where that leaves me though. I want it to be a serious song. You know, I mean I take pride in my pajama pants." "You know it's almost 6pm on a Friday and you're still in your pajamas. Not only that, but you're running around the house singing about it." "Yeah, isn't it great?" "Don't you have something more constructive you could be doing? Like your job?" "First off, I worked last night and happen to have today off. Don't worry, I work tomorrow. Nextly, fabricating the world's greatest owe to these pajama pants is no ordinary task! Did you even notice how cool these pants are? How many other pajama pants do you know of with cargo pockets!?" "Why do you need cargo pockets on your pajamas?" "That's just you, in fact, that's the grumpy you asking that question. The you I you I've talked into the early morning about the Sneetches with, that's the you I want to talk to about pajama pants. If she's not available, I'll just leave a message for her and she can get back to me when she's around." "You got to stop smoking whatever it is you're on." "No, no, I'll just wait for the beep Miss Grumpy Ass." "Why do you have to act this way sometimes?" "That didn't sound like a beep to me!" She sighs. "Considering everything we've been through together, you're a real asshole sometimes." "What's that Misses Answering Machine? You've got an expanded memory!?!? That's terrific!" "Ok, I'll do it..." "So how is your ma, Bell, anyways?" "I SAID I'LL DO IT!" "Oh ok, well let me get this message for my friend going. Ready?" "Beeeeeeeeep." It didn't even sound like a real answering machine. But every time I got her to beep, it sounded really funny. And she knew how cute she was when she made nonsensical noises. "Umm, hey it's me. You know we've been going through a heck of a rough period lately and it's hard on the both of us. I just wanted to let you know about what I've been doing today. I woke up and danced around the house to the tape you made me. It's about worn out from overuse... Anyways, I was dancning around in my pajama pants that you got me last year. I really like them. I'm pretty sure I've told you about how cool it was to find pajama pants that had cargo pants, and better yet, that you got them for me. I really appreciate you. I just want you to know that. You, who taught me to dance around the house, to enjoy the little things no matter what. Most of all, it's dancing with you that I miss. Not just the slow dances, but the 'drag your partner around the house unwillingly' dances too. I really miss that. I regret the fact that there hasn't been any dancing like that in the house lately. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to you later though. I miss you and still love you very much. 'Night." I dunno if she was expecting that. I wasn't really either. I had planned to just sing the pajama pants song to her a few more times and continue dancing around the house until she walked out for the night. But enough of that. I was serious when I said dancing around the house by yourself is really lonely. ------------------- : If Only I Had : : All The Answers : : by ch33z-1t : ------------------- Zimbobwe has many problems, but Ethiopia is not one of them. The main problem is they don't have enough raspberries. Raspberries are vital to zimbabwean culture. If you think about that past statement it made no sense, and neither will the next one. When holding a man's penis be sure to flatulate on Gir. I probably should be studying, but CS doesn't thrill me like pooping on a half-eaten squirrel. If I was to make a new menu I wouldn't. I would say penises don't like menus and neither do I. It's funny to see two ugly people flirt. This guy needs a shave and a confidence booster in his smoothie, & the girl has got to be the dorkiest girl I have ever seen. Did yall like that confidence booster in the smoothie joke? Only certain people may get the joke. Moving on, I wish I could have carved a pumpkin this year. I just never got around to buying one. ------------------ : Compressionary : : Causes : : by koolpeith : ------------------ Last night I encountered a rather rare and peculiar alert from Windows using the media player to open an avi file; the good ole' "you don't have the friggin codec, ya dickhead." Well, okay, omit the dickhead part for historical accuracy, but I think you, as an angstmonster reader, are aware that Bill Gates isn't going to set himself up for a lawsuit that easily. I checked the file name and found "Xvid" instead of the usual "DivX". I read about Xvid about a month ago in attempts to find the best/easiest tool to encode dvd rips, but Xvid seemed much too hard for my XP-using-ass to learn to use. After a short search to find the latest cut of this open source program, I downloaded and promptly installed an Xvid codec built on October 28th of this year. Thats fairly fuckin recent. The video quality is stellar at best; Kudos to all the h4x0r5 who've been spending time refining this compression tool. Just so you know, the movie I watched was the Joshua Hartnett movie, 40 Days and 40 Nights. All the boobies they show are crystal clear. Analysis of Kool Peith based on what he just wrote: Jeezus. What a shut in. How much time does he actually spend sitting at his computer? He's a college student, right? What ever happened to the reading, the essays, the PEOPLE??? I remember that audio ripping binge he had when his roommate told him that the highest quality algorithm in Lame produced a smaller file size. Cd's were everywhere. If he were motionless for like 10 minutes they could've filmed a scene for that movie "Seven." I could see his desktop flashing "waste", "obsession", or "pirating" in inverted black and white while his eyes drain blood from the epileptic seizures. If KoolPeith got a dime for every day which he neglected homework in favor of collecting audio or video media, the U.S. Mint would need to press a shitload more dimes. ______________________ ||++++++++++++++++++[] ] || *** [] ] || ** /* [] ] || ** / * [] ] || ** O * [] ] || ** / * [] ] || ** / TDK * [] ] || ** * [] ] || *** [] ] ||++++++++++++++++++[]______________________] 0=<=>=<=>=SOME=<=>=<=>=IRC=<=>=<=>=MOMENTS=<=>=<=>=0 FUCK YOU STARING AT THE SEA disc NEVER SKIP ON A FOREST AGAIN YES BUT THINGS THAT ARE NOT PIE, ARE NOT PIE "Level 5 Gundam: repeated the third grade." "Level 3 gundam: I pooped my pants." YOU DON'T IMPRESS ME EITHER, ACROBUP 0=<=>=<=>=SOME=<=>=<=>=IRC=<=>=<=>=MOMENTS=<=>=<=>=0 --------------- : I Am Jack's : : Opinion On : : The Matter : : by gir : --------------- I was sitting at a table awfully close to the mic and sipping on what was to be my third cup of coffee. (Everyone loves free refills!) And as I took the first sip, Jack Kerouac appeared to my side and starting talking to me. Jittery like no other, he says, "Man, you can't read anything until you have 10 cups of coffee." "But I've only had three." And I was starting to feel them all hit me like a rush. In fact, when I was getting my third cup, I knew it was a bad idea but it didn't matter because I needed to wake up so I could read my story. "I know this, but you can't go up there until you've had 10 cups of coffee." "They're going to end it soon. I won't be able to drink that much in time." "Yeah you will. Listen, I made all of this. It is here because of me. I know-" "What are you talking about? All of this here is because of you?" "It is! I'm Jack Kerouac, the man who sold a million pairs of jeans, and taught every reckless youth to backpack across the country with their favorite paperback dogeared and tucked away in their back pocket." "But how? All you did was sit in front of your type writer and pound away with your endless spools of paper. Then when you were done with that, you'd go drinking with friends. Not exactly an evening well spent at the local coffee house." "THAT DOESN'T MATTER! OH MAN HOW THAT DOESN'T MATTER! If I had it my way, I'd be up here playing a typewriter! OH MAN, HOW THE JAZZMEN PLAYED THEIR INSTRUMENTS, I'D PLAY MY TYPEWRITER LIKE THAT!" "Definitely. I'd wanna play the keyboard, but not the musical kind, the typing kind. Furious, like the firing neurons of every erratic thinker." "See kid, you know what I'm saying. You should get up there." "But Jack, I haven't had 10 cups of coffee yet." "That's right, you haven't! I'll go get you another!" "There's no way I'm drinking 10 cups of coffee." "But you have to, otherwise you can't stand up there and tell em your story!" "Not on 10 cups coffee." "Nah, man. GO GO GO! DRINK!" At this point, the people running the open mic night were making a last call on anyone interested in reading. The hostess was going on about this being the last night for a good while and it was just one of those feelings I got where I had to get up, even if I was 7 cups of coffee short of Jack's goal. But that really doesn't matter much to me. I was never a huge fan of his. In fact, it's just my like that the writer from that time period I only sorta liked not nearly as much as some of his peers would appear to me in a coffee induced illusion and try to sell me more coffee. All the same, against the wishes of Jack I got up and said I'd read something. It wasn't the story I intended to read though. It was nothing like that at all, and instead it started like this: "So I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and all of a sudden Jack Kerouac appears on my shoulder and tells me I can't come up here until I've had 10 cups of coffee..." When I was done retelling my story, everyone was laughing and applauding but Jack was no where to be found. And as the crowd begin to thin out, I went to get myself another cup of coffee, my fourth and final one for the night. §-§-§-ANOTHER-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§ "As much as I definitely enjoy solitude I wouldn't mind perhaps Spending little time with you" "Possibly Maybe" by Björk. §-§-§-ANOTHER-§-§-§-SAD-§-§-§-BASTARD-§-§-§-MOMENT-§-§-§ æææææææææææææææææaæ æ Æfterthought(s) æ æææææææææææææææææææ It's light outside. Through the cracks of the shades, there's a dingy sunrise of what I'd pretend is orange fog hanging over the trees the way most things hang over trees when they've got a case of the Mondays and want to slip back into a really cozy spot. But when you think about it, the clouds, the fog, they're always doing what they can to get higher back into the sky. Their lazy aspiration is an unintentional reaching for the stars. ::snap:: ?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿ What you have just read was a step into the unknown spontaneous and poorly edited thoughts for sharing collectively known as "Angstmonster." All thoughts on the matter can be sent to or you can just visit the site http://www.angstmonster.org and see what you think. (But I won't promise any content to anyone.) Submissions of all sorts are welcome! Everything from prose and poetry to rants and opinions, creative text art, recipes for yummy food, reviews of stuff, etc. Thanks and enjoy your day... copyright 2002 issue 13 angstmonster.org 11.18.02 Feel free to redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. (and stuff)