+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + doomed to obscurity + issue four + november 13th, 1995 + .s sS$ "$$$" . " S$ $ s .s s" ""$s "$ $ .ss$S "$ $$ "$$$$Sss $ss$S"""$ s: $: "$s "" s"$" $ S. $ Yb s .$s "$ S. Ys S :$ " . " $. Ys :$ : . "$ :$ $ s 33 S s" $ .$ss" $s .s " $.ss"" $s .S" s$" " .s " " + "spreading happiness & positivity through understood cynicism." - sratte + +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + my doggy + submitted by - neko i have a doggy. he has hairy buttocks. i like to scratch them. my doggy likes that. he licks me. it makes me feel good. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + you're a damned weirdo + written by - mogel we're doomed! do the hokey-pokey, baby! the issues of dto are still pumpin' away here, kids. just a reminder, we're _always_ looking for innovative writers with message-encoded stuff. we can never get enough writing. the feedback we've been getting on last issue has been pretty interesting. a buncha people thought it was "by far" the best issue ever released. others thought it was "okay," but dealt _way_ too much on the topic of "angst." heh. forgetting that this theme was somewhat intentional from my crafty mind, an interesting thing to note is that the writers of dto ages do range from the ballpark of sixteen to late twenties. basically, youth. the bullshit and self-proclaimed stupid culture that is becoming all-too common is something that dto is here to deal with. basically, we're the most real thing you'll ever read. at any rate, for the most part, you'll certainly find a difference in this months issue, full of all kinds of wacky random stuff you could only expect from us. the always presumptuous james hetfield bashes 'zines and we pick up introductory writings from teletype, base, and edicius. we also get treated to a one-shot from uXu's the gnn. wowee!@ i'd say that in general, this issue has turned out a tad more serious that i would have expected. you know, i'm pretty glad frannie decided to let me run the dto-show for this issue and last with his recent lack of time. it reminded me a lot of those gl0ry days back when i was editing my former lame 'zine, h0e. everything continues to change for me. in a lot of ways, i'm pulled myself out of a lot of the "c0mputer und3rgr0und" bullshit that runs rampant. as if you couldn't figure it out, we're about making people think. pushing ideas, thoughts, and wacky shit. let's take a confusing stroll down memory lane, shall we? the modem mafia are masters of something so primal, it's almost as funny as you are. hey cocksucker why aren't you getting back to me about my fucking hoe app? - godd. romeo is paging you from teleconference: you have big tits. they all phear me. womba-womba. i can't believe that out of millions of sperm, i was the quickest. get hip to my anarchy! my hypothesis was that given ten days, five monkeys could start an e-mag and publish at least one issue. congratulations! you've hacked your way out of a paper bag! yuor mumz so stupid she seyd yuor dum to me but im not dum im smart. ten whole pez fans can't be wrong! let's hack it! look at the caveman! he's a real rebel! moral: lay off the 'shrooms, boy. are you hip to checkin' out other e'zines? you'll find zany-fun on (of all things) the www. yessir, point that web browser to our pal mercuri's baby, "zinew0rld." http://www.pla-net.net/~jwapienn/zineworld/ here you'll find a growing number of rad links to 'zine web pages all over the damn place. oh. we've picked up another permanent ftp site. woo-hoo!@ get the latest and old dto files from: prism.net /pub/dto blandest.com /pub/dto as time moves on, dto will be in it's full swing of expansion. television appearances, t-shirts, more writers, more projects; the whole nine yards. here's what we want from you; spread the disease. dto consumes your minds. bad publicity is good publicity. tell _everyone_ you know about dto. e-mail _all_ your friends the issues. upload dto to _every_ bbs and _every_ ftp site you know of. we're out to be the best, and you'll only be joining the winning side. dto _is_ forever. let's make sure of it. - mogel, the great e'zine hype-king [dto@prism.net] +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ ____ ___| |_ _ ___| | _______ | | | | +---------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------+ | | | | | | doomed to obscurity four | | | | | | and all contents therein .. | | | | | | +---------------------------- | | | | | | ----------------------------+ |_____| |_____| |___ _ 1 - my doggy by - neko 2 - you're a damned weirdo by - mogel 3 - doomed to obscurity four and all contents therein .. by - mogel 4 - the real world by - eerie 5 - what do you think think of dto? by - mogel 6 - technology knows no shame, the world i see has gone insane by - teletype 7 - i was the second gunman in the kennedy assassination, sexy mama! by - edicius 8 - pick your nose no matter who walks by you! by - base 9 - sweet irony by - mogel 10 - poison by - the gnn 11 - broken by - shadow tao 12 - zines suck by - james hetfield 13 - operation streetpimp by - morpheus 14 - where's that dignity i ordered? by - mogel 15 - dew - condiments; chapter 1/0 by - murmur 16 - urination by - y-windoze +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + the real world + submitted by - eerie woke up at 3 pm, again. said hello to the camera. hi, mtv alternakids. it's thursday and the rest of the appartment is empty. turned on my stereo and listened to some cool trip-hop stuff. still asleep with a bonus headache. slept for like thirteen hours. "you sure you wanna be with me, i've nothing to give." peed. said hello to the camera. get that, mtv alternakids. put on some clothes; black t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of white socks. then moved to the kitchen, opened the fridge. nothing. yesterday i had some money to buy some milk and made myself pancakes from a recipe my mom gave me. "i drink till i'm drunk & i smoke till i'm senseless." made some peach juice from peach juice powder and water. said hello to the camera. you mtv alternakids got your lunch paid by your mom & dad. better feel lucky. alright, let's not fast today. looked for something edible. what do i find? onion soup mix. tried to prepare some, tasted really, really bad. spitted a mouthful in the garbage bag. "until then, you have to live with yourself." threw the rest of the soup in the sink. said hello to the camera. fuck you, mtv alternakids. if i could find like a dollar and a few cents i could at least walk to a convenience store and buy some kraft dinner or a can of beans. blah. whatever. put on my coat (it's winter up here) and went to the college that's near here so i could sell pot to some guys i know and get a few bucks, at last. "i refuse to understand." -- tricky +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + what do you think of dto? + the opinions of some "other" 'zine guys + compiled by - mogel "dto is the most well written 'zine since 'common sense'." - edicius [jonas] "looks good, man." - lobo [gwd] "my elitist attitude: 'its so rad, _i_ wrote for it.' my distinguished attitude: 'elogant, yet fascinating.'" - disorder [fuck] "you guys are a buncha whiners." - guido sanchez [blah/dead] "all 'zines are lame." - y-windoze [pud/dead] "neat, rad." - swamp ratte' [cdc] "det kan inte bli battre an sa har!" (translated: "it can't get any better than this!") - the gnn [uxu] "..." (he refused to reply) - jason farnon [ibft/dead] "it's interesting." - t3 [rdnf] "i phear mogel and love bubbles." - rattle [that guy] "dto is a stable part of the zine scene. it's something to keep the zine scene going and keep it credible." - juke [chemchoc] +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dto spotlight on - teletype teletype; writer, master of prism.net - one fateful night in the mid '70s will live forever in infamy. on this night - cold and drab like a bleak december on the tundra - two desolate and dejected human beings ingested a more than respectable quantity of distilled spirits. intoxication led to copulation, and copulation, to conception. lo! a zygote was created, and it was called teletype. the powers that be saw teletype and decided it was good. they foresaw this teletype's upbringing until the day their plans went wildly awry. the teletype surpassed their power. the teletype took up residence in a computer, and from their wrought havoc and dementia on all. the teletype was revered by the powers that were as the second coming of their great and illustrious creator. the teletype came to rule over all. and such is the history of the world to date, or whatever portion of the history that doth matter. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + technology knows no shame, the world i see has gone insane + submitted by - teletype take a moment to stop and think. examine closely the state of things today. in the scant centuries since the country we call america, "land of the free, home of the brave" came into existence, so much change has taken place that an outsider would be led to wonder if this is indeed the same planet. our 'forefathers' started a new form of government, which rose from the primordial ooze of hatred, unrest, and rebellion. their work was revered as the greatest form of government extant. the public lavished their patriotic praise upon their country, while simultaneously loathing its very existence. the natural human tendency toward hatred cannot be quelled. shortly thereafter, we began to harness the fury of steam. we tamed the rampant force. we endowed our sailing vessels with fiery, brutish steam engines, and we were able to zip to and fro, free from the whims of the winds. we strapped these behemoths to wheels, and traversed our beloved land at unheard of speeds. we discovered the usefulness of electricity. along with the tracks of the iron beast, we strung up the webs of a lighting fast new species of spider called the telegraph. our vast world shrank. with the telegraph, we were able to virtually instantaneously carry messages across the entire breadth of our nation. so long, pony express, your demise has come. the natural descendant of the electric pony express was the telephone. your loved ones and enemies alike could be held in the palm of your hand, and distances became extinct. we discovered the death magic of fossil fuels. the cheetah could outrun us. so, inferiority being verily intolerable, we created the automobile. the birds take to the sky at whim, while we are bound to terra firma. naturally, this was unacceptable, so we constructed airplanes, and surpassed them. we were on top of the world, master of all, but we needed to go higher. the hatred still prevailed. we went to war, and made full use of our new technologies. we created the deadliest spectacle of bloodshed ever before seen. finally, the war abated, and it came to pass that the world was in a quasi-peaceful state once again. we sat in our tidy homes with our phonographs, our model-t's, our electric lights, telephones, prohibition, and radios, and life was good. still our technology advanced, and with it advanced the hate and jealousy. again we went to war. millions were killed in efficient factories of death. we witnessed conflagrations of near apocalyptic proportion when we witnessed the pure brutish fury unleashed when we tampered with the very building blocks of our very physical being. in this war, technology was power. lazy as we are, mundane tasks such as arithmetic became too much of a bother to occupy our minds with. it's better to let electrons do the thinking for us. we built gargantuan thinking machines. and, in the tradition of the telephone and telegraph, came the television. while the one delivered its message at mercurian speeds, and the other carried the two-tin-cans-and-string game to a higher plane, this newcomer promised more. it trounced the lot of them and brought the president, mr. ed, the mets, and walter cronkite straight into the living room of mr. and mrs. john p. amerikaner, in living colour. the world grew smaller still. the ever present hatred persisted, and those who opposed it were considered to be in the wrong, and persecuted for it. the ones in power evidently found peace and love to be an unhealthy lifestyle. without hatred and jealousy, they would not be necessary. by and by, the peace lovers decided that they it wasn't worth it, and they became exactly what they deplored: societal drones. money is the driving force behind greed. technology is money. any technology that exists today was developed not for the sake of creating it, but for the money it earns. the gargantuan thinking machines shrank, and businesses computerized. the computers shrank more, and schools began to purchase them. hobbyists took an interest. the hobby became a gold mine; the personal computer was born. everyone wanted to get in on this hot new trend. still new forms of communication emerged. the universities and the government networked their computers, to facilitate freedom of information. greedy eyes saw the money making potential in these networks. the "information superhighway" was born. festooned in hype and buzzwords, this nonexistent bit stream was thrust upon the public, and the public embraced it. in here, there are no rules. the pioneers are totally overlooked, and crammed into small corners of their net, in much the same way as the europeans forced the native americans into reservation when they decided they own this land. this land is your land, this land is my land. this is no man's land. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dto spotlight on - edicius edicius; writer - the man of all seasons. he runs, he jumps, he flops, he flips. you can't get much better then him. between writing for various 'zines, including his own jonas e'zine, he spends much of his time playing doom2, eating peanuts, and listening to weezer. he hopes of one day riding cross-country in a winnebago, like they did in that mtv show. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + i was the second gunman in the kennedy assassination, sexy mama! + submitted by - edicius i am lee harvey oswald. i am not a nazi, nor do i work for the soviet government. i am dead now, don't ask me how i write this, fugoff. this is the _real_ story behind the kennedy assassination. +--- dto ---+ it starts with a crash. a large metallic object hurdles through the sky at an amazing rate of speed, and lands in a small place, that we'll call "roswell, new mexico." mass-hysteria. a large object, lands on earth, government denies it, only after everyone knows about it. odd, eh? but it happened. now, i'm not going into detail about the roswell incident, you know about it by now, at least somethings about it. anyway; a few years later, in 1954, our presidential-pal eisenhower (i like ike!), 'says' that he's going to the 'dentist', but _everyone_ knew where he was really going. right? no? well, ok, so alot of people _didn't_ know where he was headed to, but this is where he went; he went to the first ever alien-earthling summit. a few things happened during this summit. the most important thing: the aliens hand over a few saucers for our inspection, and we relinquish "grazing rights", allowing aliens the freedom to periodically abduct and experiment on humans and cattle. kooky, eh? its true. all the presidents knew about it, but no one was going to say anything. until jack came into office. jack, john kennedy. he was going to expose the whole eisenhower-alien summit dealy-deal. bad career move, jack. the government couldn't let this get out. this is where i step in. about two months before the infamous kennedy assassination, i'm working part time at the diner down the street from the secret service in downtown dallas. two husky fellows come in, sit down, and order a couple of eggs, black coffee, and hash browns. being the ever-eccentric waiter that i am, i started talking to these two drab fellows. they mention that they worked for the government, and that was all they were allowed to say. i was fine with that, we all have our limits. i told them i had always wanted to join the secret service, but was turned down. they said they were interested in me. i was ecstatic. i flipped. i dropped the pot of coffee on my boss, and told him to "fuck off". i tore off the dorky blue and orange uniform i was wearing and asked them where i should go to join up. they said they were only kidding. no ha-ha from this happy camper. they said they didn't really want me to join up with the secret service, only that they had a special job dealing with guns and the president, and that they needed a sicko like myself. they said that the president was going to revel some information concerning some "fake" alien summit that "supposedly" happened, and that they needed to kill him before he instilled fear in the hearts of americans. i thought it sounded good, it was being as close to the resident as restraining orders allow. so i was happy. about two months later, i was trained in the art of "scapegoating." all i had to do, was stand in a window while a motorcade goes by, hold a gun, spread my fingerprints, run, and kill some police officer. not too hard, i figured. it was the early afternoon, i see a motorcade start to approach, and i knew my signal. i put my fingerprints all over the room. boxes, books, the gun, windows, _everything_. i watch as the limousine driver carrying mr. kennedy pulls a gun and shoots him in a split second. i run. a few hours later, i was at a movie theatre. i killed some "pig" that was following my back too closely. a little while later, i get arrested. i'm questioned, i tell them that i didn't do it, and before i can say anymore, i'm whisked away by some officers. i'm walking outside, and a man, jack ruby, is standing there, with a gun, and shoots me, completing the whole secret service-cia-fbi cover-up. (they had me shot so i wouldn't say anything, they never told me about _that_ part beforehand.) here i stand today. immortalized for being a scapegoat. _everyone_ has seen oliver stone's jfk, _everyone_ knows that their is a government cover-up behind the whole assassination deal. i'm at the center of it; and no one knows the truth behind it, until now. thanks, i had to clear that up. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dto spotlight on - base base; writer - base is a generally depressed, only child in suburban connecticut who is between high school and college, and who aspires to go to berklee in boston for other studies. base (the artist formerly known as basehead) has been in the "scene" in general since 1986. the basis of what he does now is generally computer music (s3m/mod/xm/module music/formats/etc). he also composes for orchestras, and recently did the music for a game by origin. check out da warez!@ it's called crusader: no remorse. thats it. that's all. finito. b-3. bingo!@ +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + pick your nose no matter who walks by you! + submitted by - base *unconscious* [narrator: base awakes in a room with no furniture, no doors, no nothing. there is nothing and nobody in the room with him, and he cannot hear anything, nor see the source of light by which the room is oddly illuminated] man, this must be donald trump's safe deposit box.. how the _fuck_ did i get in here? i don't even _know_ the guy.. maybe _this_ is what that skeleton key unlocks.. been wondering what the fuck it was for since 3rd grade! wait, how do i know what this is? i could be part of one of those... experiments. ya know, where the government is testing the limits of sanity. something cool like that. where did i come up with that idea?? i prolly read it somewhere.. most people don't come up with ideas, they just repeat stuff they forgot they heard. i should write a book about that, it would probably sell well. maybe i'm part of one of those neat modern art displays. but.. how would anyone see me? maybe these are those fangled one-way three-foot thick walls. heh! yeah thats it, they can see me, but i can't see them. does that mean i'm paranoid? wouldn't it be kinda cool for people to see you, and not be able to see them? think of all the stuff you'd end up doing if you didn't know...you wouldn't care. it'd be freeing. think of it this way; there are two types of people in this situation, and thus two types of responses this could warrant. the person _knows_ they're being watched from the outside, so they act very normal and try to beam pleasant innocuous thoughts to all parties, foolishly thinking that no one will notice how uncomfortable they are. they don't do anything that they believe people would think disgusting, immoral, revolting, or otherwise a turn-off. the other type of person, the "rebel" would do things to purposely gross-out, piss off, raunchify, or in other words, are the antithesis of person #1. both of these people suck, that is evident. people base so much of what they do and how they act on the reactions of other people. the correct person, the 'leet person, or in other words _myself_, would do what i was going to do anyway. and if they don't like it, tough shit. you should do the same. if you want to jack-off to gifs of male rock icons with their shirts off, you go ahead and do that. if you want to make a card house, go for it. if you want to pull out that dusty mc hammer tape you bought five years ago, and blast it - do that tew!!#@ nobody's stopping you. they can see you, but they can't stop you. isn't it strange how people even try to impress someone they'll never see or talk to again in their lives, or avoid doing something they sure as fuck need to do at that moment, just because say.. a fine chick is about to walk by you? example: you're in a huge, crowded mall, an incredibly fine chick is coming in your direction with her huge lug of a boyfriend at her side, groping her while she playfully slaps his hand away. you want to pick your nose _really_ bad, it's itching like the dickenz@!# but you don't, because you don't want to "make a fool out of yourself" in front of a girl that you'll never talk to, meet, try to persuade to come over, or otherwise attempt to "score" with. but hey, if this fat chubby senior citizen grandpa-type with his 1970's jcpenney perma-prest polyester clothes and golfing hat is chuggin' along side ya, hell.. you'd pick your nose.. up to the knuckle even. nine times out of ten, the guy will probably be doing the same, or something even nastier. sheesh, it's really silly when you think about it. the basic moral is more than "pick your nose no matter who walks by ya!" i just encourage all of you to examine the way you deal with every day situations involving other people. why do you make the decisions you do?? you'll realize that even during the course of a normal day at work, school, or just hanging out, if you look back on it, you did alot of things that you wish you hadn't done, and you realize you didn't think before you acted. it doesn't have to be something with major consequences that you did, but anything where you were met with a fork in the road, and went a certain direction. think about it. it'll make you a better person. uhm, honest. love is another silly thing i need to touch on. i have been in love, i am currently in love, and i imagine there won't be many times in my life when i'm not in love with someone. maybe i'm too easily impressed. maybe just maybe, the "girl next door" that's on the volleyball team and has a nice smile does it for me. maybe not. maybe i look for the freak, the chick that is doing whatever comes _after_ being a club kid.. ya know, that street wise attitude and clothing to match. an extra in a short film called something like "post-apocalyptic san francisco". well, neither are really true at all. when you get right down to it, although we may _think_ we fall in love with people for certain specific reasons, we don't. what sense does that make? you can't claim to me, in all honesty, that you've fallen in love with a girl because she was great looking. you can't say you've fallen in love with a girl because she had a few of the same interests. what fun would that be? love is a feeling, it may be helped along by certain things, or triggered by something initially, but you don't know where it emanates from. you don't know where it begins or ends specifically. it's not tangible, and you can't analyze it. too many people end up hurting themselves, their relationships, and their significant other, trying to do so. if it happens, go with it. i don't believe you can fall in love for the wrong reasons, because what is "wrong" anyway? you're there, you're swimming in it, it's everything you think about - your whole existence. you fell in love, you want to please this person, you'll do anything it takes and you want them to feel the same way.. love love love, la la la.. undying affection, the whole schlock'n'schpiel. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + sweet irony + submitted by - mogel from: iguana@magick.net (the iguana man) newsgroups: alt.society.generation-x subject: speak english!! date: 15 oct 1995 12:21:17 gmt organization: ark enterprises lines: 24 what is the problem with our society today that are congress can't even vote "yes" to make english our nationial langauge. they're is always them few congressman that have to vote "no". that seriously really torkz the shit out of me!! every other country has a national language exept for the most powarful nation in the world? does that make cents to you??? i shold not have to go to school and have to learn spanish to get along!! i am sorry to any spanish speaking peoples that i might be pissing off but that is how i feal!! now don't get me wrong i am not aganst other langauges or learning the foreign language. all i is saying is that when you in a public place you should have a law to speak english!! their is no reson to speak a forien language in the public. i want to understand what every1 is saying around me!! i wuldn't even care if spanish was made the united states language just so every1 spoke it. now lets just look at it this way i don't mind being insulted but do it so i can understand it!! i know that more than half the stuff people says to me in spanish is an insult (i have my friend translate it for me). i need to be insulted in my own language, even though being yelled at in a foreign tounge pisses me off even more, it don't make sense. why make fun of some1 if he don't understand it??? i think that when a person from another country get off the plane, boat, bus too comes across the boarder their should be a sign that says "your in america, now speak english!!" +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dto spotlight on - the gnn the gnn; special guest writer - this man tries desperately to learn english by writing for the esteemed sweden 'zine, uXu. if not in front of the keyboard he can be found at the department of philosophy in uppsala, sweden, rejecting common-sense, democracy and consequentialism, while defending alcoholism, terrorism and the computer underground. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + poison + submitted by - the gnn too many people honestly believe that they are free. since they don't live in a dictatorship nor in a fascist society but in the 'free world' they think they are "free people" that may do whatever they want. they'll go on to think that their political and social rights are perfect, their lives are filled with joy and happiness, and they love their situation. however, if you dare to question the above statements in public you will notice that many of the "free" individuals you are talking to will become very upset. they will refuse to listen to your arguments since they have no good arguments themselves. if you claim that the one you are talking to is not really free, but only falsely believes so, they will regard you as an enemy. for example, if you had claimed instead that the sun will not rise the next day, the free individual will have laughed and tried to convince you with facts that your belief are very wrong. so, if everyone knows a fact, and this fact is perfectly true, there will be no need to become upset if someone believes the opposite. because facts are facts and nothing can change that. if some misguided individual thinks something else, well, too bad for him. following the example, the sun goes up every morning - no question about that. someone who thinks that the sun will not go up tomorrow is wrong. end of discussion. if they don't not listen to facts, leave them alone - they're an idiot. but if something is unclear the situation changes. if two people are unsure about a fact they can discuss it. "is the fact 'a' or is it 'b'?" well, we cannot be sure, but we can talk about it and try to come up with a solution. that is the final purpose of "debate," after all. to come to a final understanding. if it _was_ a fact that the people in the free world are really free, then any discussions about that fact would be unnecessary. however, this is not a fact. arguments are possible. but do the arguments sometimes turn into fights when you try to debate it? why do people react so spastically towards someone insinuating that they are not truly free? can't they just say "he's an idiot." and move on? this is because often people don't dare to question their own situation. they want to believe that they are free. if they were not free, their lives would lose meaning. this alienation from meaning would mean confusion. people hate confusion. things are to be as they have always been. it must be a fact that they are free, it cannot be something unclear. if it was unclear, it would not be a true fact. it was not a true fact, it would not be a fact at all. your claim that people are not really free will touch a sensitive spot. you are holding their personal meaning of life in your hand, and they want you to give it back to them without harming it. it is a primitive defense mechanism in their minds that starts and boosts into full effect. their ears will be covered, your words will be scrambled before it reaches their brain. your desire to find the truth will rock their comfortable chairs. if their defense mechanism would break down, they would become confused. their confusion would force them to think for themselves and that is messy business! that demands them to do things that are not just a habit. the one that does things out of a simple habit never makes any real choices. it is much easier to live in a cloudy dream with given truths and given answers. the dogmatic dream that people experience every second is a result of a poison. this poison makes them drowsy and easy. they do what they are told to do; they educate themselves and work until they die. they think that life is nothing more than that. in theory, they praise the ones that decide to don't live the life of habits, but in practice they try to convince the ones around them that the life of habits is the best one. it is a easy life. if you remove the meaning of life from a human, you have destroyed their hope. without hope, life will be very hard. life will be no longer be in that soft cloudy dream. even worse, there will be no way back to the dream. the individual will find himself on a path that only offers one destination: the truth. to reach that truth means a long and hard trek. some people cannot stand that journey. they sit down and bury their face in their hands. alcohol, drugs and other short pleasures will be their only escape from the path. fatigue overwhelms them - they cannot take the pressure. but those who makes it will be rewarded. nothing is more enjoyable than a clear sight and a free mind. there will be no state, no religion, no dogmas at the end of the path. it will just be the greatest prize of all: the ability to really think for oneself. well, do you think i am right? i guess you do, since you truly believe that you are one of the few lucky people that is able to think for yourself. you believe that your mind is clear and that your eyes see everything there is to see. now let's spin this around; let me reveal the tragic fact that you are just a simple nobody, ruled by and addicted to the poison. you will never experience real freedom, because you think real freedom is as it is right now. you do things out of habits. you go to school, you go to work and soon you will go to your own grave. i bet you think that will be a matter of choice, too. if you found yourself in a room without any doors and with the knowledge that you would die in less than five minutes, what would you do? would you work or would you think? would you believe that life is nothing more than doing what you are told to do or would you desire a life built upon your own decisions? would you truly believe that your own decisions would cope with the standard life of education - work - death? you would not. you would wish that you had a second chance. but there would be no such second chance. now, you are experiencing the only life you will ever get. of course, life is a bit longer than five minutes. take care of it, do what you want to do. to do what you really want to do is really hard, but it is much easier if you begin to think for yourself. anything goes. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + broken + submitted by - shadow tao "doth it therefore follow from hence likewise that is not really inherent in the object." -george berkeley +-----+ "you want to do a cover of what song, trent?" "the gummi bears cartoon theme song." "..." "yeah, steve?" "why the 'gummi bears theme song', trent? it just doesn't follow the body of your work." "yes it does. you have to feel the underlying pain of the lyrics." "lesse. hmm. do you have a hard copy of the lyrics?" "yeah. here." "gummi bears....dancing here and there...magic and mystery, part of their history..." "can't you feel _that_?" "..." "um. no." "..." "trent. it's about little jelly chewy bears that bounce around in a magical forest." "..." "shut the fuck up steve. you're fired." "you're nuts. goodbye." +-----+ nine inch nails had consumed the music industry. there was no denying that fact. faced with monumental record sales and equally impressive concert attendance, the critics of reznor and his following fell away. 'nexus/end' had outsold the rest of reznor's work combined, and the touring schedule for it had all but destroyed the crew. it had also had a major effect on trent, as it had broken his sanity into little pieces, leaving a deranged maniac in control of the most popular name in music. "okay! 'gothgummi' is recording in 5!" "no. i have to take a piss." "trent has to take a piss. we'll start again in 6 minutes." trent walks over to the drum set, undoing his pants and proceeding to pee on the snare. the urine runs across the snare head, splashing onto the cymbals and spilling noisily on the drummer's boots. "um. okay. someone go clean that up." "no. let's play from measure 23." "but the drummer is covered in.." "i'm sure he can take it. play." "doesn't that sound better?" "yes trent. you're right trent. isn't this man a musical.. genius? he's a musical genius!" "shut up marty." +-----+ "an enigmatic, head sundering, conscience transgressing tour de force!" -spin "reznor has a gift for the warping of the mind and body. this album is a tribute to that dark gift." -rolling stone "rock gummy bears! cool! kill! kill! death! kill!" -deformed musician's monthly +-----+ backstage, on the gothgummi tour: "you want me to what?" "cut a hole. where my ass is. about.. hey marty!" "what?" "how big's that pole across? you know? that diametric thing." "about an inch and a quarter." "you heard him." "uh." "now." "yessir" "..." "WH0 HAZ MY PEN1Z HELMET?!@" "it's right here, trent." "GLU DA F0Q'N M00ZE H0RNZ 0N N LETZ G0!@#" "i'm on it right now, trent." +-----+ the darkness of the shaded control room gently obscures the scene unfolding below. thousands of fans are writhing in the beat of the giant speaker banks. trent dances around on stage, wearing his attire, and screaming the lyrics to the 'gummi bears.' "god marty. he looks like an idiot.." "well. look at the crowd. they couldn't care less." "but look at him. he's got a pole shoved up his _ass_, marty." "..." "yeah." "and he's wearing a helmet shaped like a penis. with moose antlers glued on, for godsake." "..." "yeah." "it's rock today." +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + zines suck + submitted by - james hetfield four in the morning, and where is matt? sitting as his desk, pounding away at his keyboard. he was writing his 'greatest' text file ever; anarchy elite warez end here! at the same time, on another part of the globe, riyu, a screwed-up japanese university dropout, was writing away at his underground zine; the role of humanity vs. humanity. johnny, the 12 year old child from vermont, grinded away at his keys writing down his unique processes that, went performed, would blow up the white house in one swoop. mike, where is poor mike? mike is writing bad poetry about the sand and the sun. * * * which of these four should gain the most recognition? i would say the poet, because chances are his horrible poetry isn't just for the computer world. 'zines are crap, folks. always have been, always will be. until people actually form a 'zine where they are actually writing for themselves and not a retarded "underground" audience, the work they create will not have any relevance to real time life. let's find some classic examples, shall we? classic example #1: "scene whining." EVERY FUCKING ZINE has a criticism about the scene. look, this is a criticism about the zine! how fucking ORIGINAL of me! it seems no one can shut their fucking mouths about the 'zine. every chance they get, they're talking about the scene. did you ever notice that in successful institutions, they don't whine about the scene, they whine about individual products of the scene? take something disgustingly male; football. when was the last time you heard a football player whine about football? it doesn't happen often. but 'zine writers continually whine about the scene. it's never anything new, either, it's always the same old shit. and it gets really old and monotonous. classic example #2: bad poetry/parody listen, if you've got a piece of poetry you've worked on for a actual significant amount of time, it is a piece of work. however, if you're printing up poems in your 'zine that are still in their rough draft form, have little or no description, only 'big catchy words' like hell, heaven, pain, suffering... well, you're helping to bring down the scene. a scene can only take so much crap. after a certain amount, it begins to drown... and that is what the underground 'zine world is doing. drowning. classic example #3: prose vs. essay most 'zines these days are almost all essay, with very little prose, if any. and if it does have prose, it's usually crappy and about little trolls that kill humans or magical penises, etc. prose is an important element of a 'zine; it gives it a polar look. people who are really into prose (like me) might actually not skip over the essays people wrote. and people who generally read essays might read the prose as well. a good balance helps out the 'zine a lot, and very few 'zines have this balance. classic example #4: underground gibber let's face it, ladies and gentlemen. there is little that is 'underground' about the 'zine scene. anyone who can get their hands on a computer can write up a 'zine. anyone who goes into #new_irc_user will probably get dcc'd a copy of jonas or klunk or whatnot. one of the big problems of 'zines is they all say the same things. they are redundant, and redundant they are, with a little recursive recursivity. i don't think there are many people who could write anything new about hacking and phreaking, and put them in a general reader 'zine. "how to eat your eggs fried" probably has been written about less than "how to blow up your dog". classic example #5: eye owns joo why is cdc so popular? because it is one of the few old 'zines still alive, and many talented people write for it. does everyone want to run a group like cdc? hell yea. can everyone run it? nope. just like everyone can't be the perdue chicken man, not everyone can run a popular 'zine. but everyone tries to. i know i have, way too many times in fact. if i listed all the different gimmicks for 'zines i've had in the past, this article would be 300k long. so very few people really stay together long enough to create a work of art. will dto stand the test of time? the odds are against it. the odds are against every 'zine, because just about every talented writer wants to run a 'zine... so the people running 'zines have shitty submissions. the writers core for a decent 'zine is usually two or three good writers (including the editor), while a great 'zine would have maybe five or six good writers. once a 'zine has six or so great writers, we come to the next problem. classic example #6: i'll do it tomorrow. everyone is lazy these days. 'zines are the antithesis of pringles; once you stop, you can't pop. never once in the days that i have known 'zines have i had a good core of writers all writing for the 'zine at the same time. it would be three here, three there, but never at the same time. so the talent pool was efficiently diluted. if a 'zine could effectively have a good talent pool of writers, who continually produce, with a relatively balanced amount of prose and essay, they might have a chance at having an excellent 'zine. but those products are few and far between. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dto spotlight on - morpheus morpheus; k-rad writer - in west philadelphia born and raised on the playground is where i spent most of my days. chillin out maxin relaxin all cool and all playin wiff mah homeboys outside of the school; when a couple of guys who were up to no good, started makin trouble in mah neighborhood. i got in one little fight and my mom got scared! she said "you're movin with your auntie and uncle in bel aire." bump bah bump bump dah dah bump. i whistled for a cab and when it came near, it's license plate said "phresh" and there was dice in the mirror! if anything i could say that this cab was rare, but i thought "nah forget it." "yo holmes! to bel aire!" bump bah bump bump dah dah bump. i pulled up to the house about seven or eight and i yelled to the cab "yo holmes! smell ya later!" i looked at mah kingdom, i was finally there! to sit on my throne as the prince of bel aire!" +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + operation streetpimp + submitted by - morpheus turn on the tv, open up a book, everywhere you look today you see words. and this means one thing to the government: "WE PHEAR EVIL COMPUTER HACKERS! THEY HAVE PHRESH GNU WAREZ AND 0-DAY EXPLOIT SCRIPTS! THEY FILLED OUR SECRET GOVERNMENT X-PHILES-LIKE DIRECTORIES WITH 0-DAY JAPANESE WAREZ!" words were surely the direct cause of such anarchy, and the government had a plan. "...now entering our studio is julie - our returning champion and a lawyer from vermont, bill - a reporter with the advocate, and goldy - a pimp from pamona. this is... JEOPARDY!" "thank you ladies and gentlemen we are proud to have with us three excellent players today. julie, who is our lawyer, bill, a national reporter, and of course goldy." "i be is happy to be here... hahaha, you know?" "thanks alex! me and my partner watch this show every night. hi justin!" "fo' real.. aww shit man ya' a fag man.. fo' real? awww shit, you know?" "right! so let's get started with today's categories: 16th century lit, the roman empire, science, letters and law, treaties and government, and words that cross. let's begin with goldy who won the toss backstage." "i be gonna take wordz dat cross fo' 200 alex, know what i'm sayin?" "alright, these two words don't exist in english and we made them up before the show." "bzzzzzt." "uh.. aww man.. uh... aww man.. aww shit.. i know dis.. aww man... aww shit. aww man." "sorry your time is up.. bill or julie?" "ok, the correct answer was zzjjeiju and eerejzzjie. it looks like bill knew that one, are you kicking yourself right now bill?" "yes alex i am... hahaha can you believe i didn't buzz in?! arrhg.. hahaha." "fo' real dis guy is a fag yo. hahaha... you know?" "ok goldy you choose, make your next selection." "aight now.. lemme see.. i'll take words that cross for 300.. you know what i'm sayin? hahaha... yeah." "these two words cross, but they don't mean anything and one of them nobody can pronounce." "bzzzzt." "uh.. aww man.. uh... aww man.. aww shit.. i know dis.. aww man... aww shit. aww man." "oh sorry, bill or julie?" "ok the answer was hhhhhhhhhj and hujkeiy. julie, it looks like you're really mad and hitting yourself in the face for not having buzzed in on that one." "arrhg! i knew that one!" "hahahaha.. shit. fo real." thus operation streetpimp became a complete success. many pimps from many cities all over the u.s. went on jeopardy and none of them made it to the final round. when asked to comment, the spa said "WE PHEAR BoW!" and a cert spokesperson said "I LIKE SOUP." thousands of citizen taskforces were taken up to combat what some people deemed "GUVMENT ABUSE." and burned down a large cardboard box outside of a walmart in richmond. when pressed for a statement, the spa said "WE PHEAR BoW!" and a cert rep told us "I LIKE SOUP." (note how their previous statements coinside.) much to our regret, their was no free lunch that day and it was never made into a miniseries, when we contacted the authorities, the spa said "WE PHEAR BoW!" and an individual from cert told us "I LIKE SOUP." we finally caught up with goldy outside a motel in pamona. when we told him bambi's mother died in a forest fire, he responded "aww shit. fo real?" a mob of about one person held a demonstration at city call today where he threw eggs at a picture of the pope and shouted "TAKE DAT!" many times until he was forceably subdued and dressed like a woman. police proceeded to put the man in a broom closet in a building across town. a crowd of angry cockroaches formed outside of what was once the city hall building to combat what they deemed "GUVMENT ABUSE." the cockroaches flew small attack choppers and used anti-tank missiles to destroy the building. when cornered and prodded with a stick, the spa said "WE PHEAR BoW!" and in the same position three members of the cert commission on underage drinking concluded "I LIKE SOUP." on several occasions. but there were no events in which people shot themselves in the foot in order to win the five hundred dollars _or_ what's behind door number three. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + where's that dignity i ordered? + submitted by - king mogel it's like this; by the time you finish reading this, you'll hate me. i'm a fuckin' geekster. i've been following this beautiful girl around my college campus for weeks. i'm becoming grandmaster illogic and i'm all stupid-like. i fell in deep "like" a little while ago. i asked some girl out, not to my surprise, she has a good 'ol boyfriend. it becomes pathetic now. i started spazzing out and spying on this girl's e-mail, using stupid tricks i learned after years of my fucking obsession with a computer. it's funny, i know there's so many things wrong with it, but i couldn't help it. she seemed so "right". yeah, uh-huh. "specialness" and that feeling of love are complete bullshit. we, as humans, have the unique ability to completely mind-fuck ourselves. we can pull in anything from anywhere we want. it _is_ all in our measly, pathetic heads. we're all "will", with justification to follow until only _after_ we do what we want for the moment. and i'm here plugging away at my computer at five in the morning. i'm starting to feel that i'm-so-tired-i-can't-think-straight-deal. i sure do love alienation! i'm alive! oh boy! glorious life that i've been given! i should be thankful! i kicked the ass of millions of sperm that wanted to be me! ha ha! i sure do rule! life is a big disinformation superwalkway. we're all zipping along at different speeds, and we stop (some more than others) every now and then. we take little detours. we stop sometimes for the fuck of it and ask a whole slew of generic questions on life. your looking for some answers and some sorta funky meaning to love and sex and relationships. it's all a big joke. you think you're spitting out deep things, but there's a million people before and after you that have the same feelings you do. you're nothing special. you're yet another lonely guy, that justifies his anger at girls, with pseudo-bullshit philosophy. i know, i'm there. you whine, whine, whine - and then you turn around one day and you have all these warm bubbly feelings for someone you hardly knew just a short time ago. infatuation is a rush. emotions are tasty. thought is so rare it pains me. i've been living here at college weeks laughing in the faces of people that profess their "love". i _hate_ that people have no idea what the word means. I _hate_ that the english language has only one word that means so many different things. all i've learned about love over my entire life full of observation is this; _no one_ has a fucking clue. love being a completely alien concept to my life, i have no clue either. honestly, almost every part of me wants to scream and point out the examples. i've _never_ seen a relationship that wasn't relatively one-sided or complete bullshit. a heaping of infatuation, a sprinkle of attraction, or even a smidgeon of loneliness - all mistaken for love. most people are just lonely and call the loss of loneliness "love" when they find someone that equally feels lonely and "needs" attention. almost every part of me wants to declare that love just _doesn't_ exist and make it that simple. but for some reason i can't. something in me still says it's real. perhaps it's lame hope. when you've spent all of your energy, and when life becomes tired, things like obsession and how many boogers you have in your nose are the only things that begin to matter. it's only then, when you're depressed, lonely, and burned-out that you pay attention to the clacking that your keyboard makes and you wish that the speed that your future athritus-ridden fingers typing was any measurement of your heart and how you feel. it's supposedly normal to feel this way. you hear yourself muttering the same old angst of youth and other typical bullshit. you're just another one. _all_ girls are flaming idiots. no. wait. let me rephrase that. all _guys_ are flaming idiots. girls are even more of an incarnation of idiocy because they actually _fuck_ guys. what's worse is that they fuck the more _stupid_ guys. i mean, come on now. just because all guys suck, doesn't mean you shouldn't be selective. does he treat you bad? oh boy! there's such a thrill in the let down! more pain! gimme! gimme! you're telling a big joke and you, my friend, are the punchline. "ha, ha." yes, there are exceptions, but ultimately you realize that 90% of _everyone_ sucks. even more, you wonder why any of it's even worth it. the expression "nice guys finish last" has never been more true in college life today. girls like to cloud each other with their feminist propaganda, but show me any self-declared feminist and i'll show you a hypocrite. what can someone do? there becomes two options, either you do what i do, which is be completely "who you are" and pray that you're one of the lucky one-in-a-million people that gets into a good relationship by complete chance. or you can do what my roommate does. which basically comes down to this for getting into a relationships as a young person. whatever you do - don't be you. do, say, or manipulate them in any way you can think of. why be yourself if you can just tell them what they want to hear and they'll melt in your hands? oh, morality is forgotten easily. if you have the ability to completely mind-fuck someone, why not use it? it's a rush. i'm up on my darwinism, pal. are you? ooh yeah. this isn't just a "youth wrestling with the concept of love." deally. i'm not writing a piece of fuckin' romantic crap. you'll find no "i need someone to cuddle with"s here. hey kids, here's some tips for youth angst! 1. loneliness is a disease; spread it!@ 2. glorify your depression; be the first on _your_ block!@ 3. hate everyone. life sucks. didn't you know? everyone sucks. this shit gets gets all twisted and distorted and mixed-up in with those feelings of self-hate that many of us have and never really knew how to deal with. mostly because we never really had long-term loving relationships, or parents that knew how to "connect" with us. and you sit there like a fuckin' bump on a log having these dreams of of one day meeting that "someone". the one for _you_!@ LOVE. soul-mate stuff. you have spats of insanity and loneliness where you're sitting alone staring at something in the dark. eventually you might find yourself doing something to pass the time. thinking that maybe that person will just walk through your door and be taken by you. you waste away doing stupid shit, like writing babble or spying on someone's email. and you're wondering when the fuck something - _anything_ is going to happen. you wanna jump up and scream "is any of this confusion worth it?!@" it's a decision that i wish i could make. does love exist? indeed. it waits to grab the most real people. the people with patience and will. people that _can_ wait it out, without any of the bullshit. people that _can_ appreciate someone independent of the stupid "needing" and sappy stuff that they get from their relationship. you don't look for it, you let it look for you. all you need to do is make yourself findable. fuck it. you've heard enough. i'm getting off this freakin 'puter today. i'm going outside. you coming? +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + dew - condiments; chapter 1/0 + submitted by - murmur upon finding ourselves in an enticingly precarious position this wet and sticky morning, we decided to advance, flanked by a rather weak artillery barrage, towards the strategically located but otherwise unimpressive ocean. upon reaching said ocean, we discovered that the enemy had retreated and drowned, making our effort a miserable waste. flustered but not willing to spoil a perfectly beautiful day, we rounded up some nice fryin' ducks and had ourselves a feast. unfortunately the contigent was woefully low on bastions and a beer brawl broke out, sidelining the phantom of the regiment for long enough to allow a bizarre and somewhat unexpected filtration of pan. it was not a very arduous task to defeat pan, but pan was definitely a feisty little bugger, possessing great speed, Teflon, and one hell of a knack for overeasy eggs. luckily, we were all gorgeous german co-eds for a few hours, and we failed to waste our time in the twain of the twixt. not even a great bearer of fruit and tidings could reverse the avalanche now, and we were forthwith caved in by our own fierce gluttony. however, having a fondness for such candy coated gluttony, we ate it to our hearts' content and proceeded to wryly vomit it from whence it had come. slugsby saw fit. the war was over, but the battle rages on, so we went to switzerland and made us some clocks. moral: tie him to the masthead until he's sober. slur-pee. +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ + urination + submitted by - y-windoze teehee was her laugh. far below the children screamed. root was but an unknown dream. the warez were hot. the hst fast. the night young, long, forever. root was mine. exploit sendmail all the time. i had to pee. i had to pee. whoa is me. but damn it, i had to pee... +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ doomed to obscurity issue four has been brought to you by the letters e, l, and the number eight. all correspondence should be directed towards - dto@prism.net to get on the dto mailing list - send mail to mail to majordomo@prism.net with the body of the message saying "subscribe dto". d2o four / all rights reserved - 1995 - doomed to obscurity press +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+