-:+:- +evolution+ -:+:- issue seven -:+:- January , 1997 -:+:- ______________________________________________________________________ +[ Table of Contents ]+ + from the desk of the head freak duct tape boy + poem : strawberry duct tape boy + important things to know + everywhere men are born free, but living in chains lizrdking + nauset as pre-revolutionary france kayem -:+:-------------:+:- -+:[from the desk of the head freak]:+- -+:[opening notes by duct tape boy]:+- greetings, travelers. the new issue of +evolution+ has arrived in your lovely electronic mailbox. or, perhaps not. you see, +evolution+ has a bit of a home now in the beautiful and under-exploited (at least these days) world of ftp. the beautiful freaks who run ftp.etext.org have decided that my submission is worthy of wasting their valuable disk space on, so now you and all of your friends can download copies there if you happened to have missed some of the older issues, or if you just feel like it. granted, I'd prefer, for purposes of my ego, that you sign up for the mailing list. I mean, hey, you can either have to look on some host to see whether or not I've posted a new issue (which might be lame, since my writing schedule is so darn sporadic), or you can know immediately by simply checking your mail. what I'm trying to say in all of this is: ftp to ftp.etext.org. there, in the directory /pub/Zines/Evolution, you can find this zine. this is a good thing. and while you're there, check out some of the other zines in /pub/Zines.. there's a lot of good one in there, many of which deserve some browsing. this issue features two essays by lizrdking and kayem, both written for their respective high skool european history classes. the idea of the assignment is to show the similarites between nauset regional high skool and pre-revolutionary france. i think they're two of the most amazing pieces of editorial writing about the sad social state at my alma mater, and therefore, i include them here. -:+:-------------:+:- all I ever wanted all I ever needed is here, in my arms words are very unnecesary they can only do harm - Depeche Mode, "Enjoy The Silence" -+:[strawberry]:+- -+:[duct tape boy]:+- i think back just two short months have passed since that first time when i truly knew when we were together when you were in my arms on the stairs in quiet solitude frozen i felt frozen unmoving in time your sickness like i was removing it from your body through your burning skin and hair into my young hands that moment lasted for days on the couch the soft glare of the television screen shining my arms around you the sweet fruit of yr hair and it's still there the burning the yearning twisting inside of me i look inside and i want this and i want you and i want to love again and i want to enjoy the silence no one else smells like you no one else feels like you no one else can replace you no one else. +[duct tape boy : 1.10.97]+ -:+:-------------:+:- -+:[important things to know]:+- + today, January 12, 1997, is the day the HAL 9000 computer is born. well, at least that's what Arthur C. Clarke says about it.. Stanley Kubrick, who directed _2001: A Space Oddysey_, prefers his birthdate to be January 12, 1992. in either case, happy birthday, HAL. + one month from now is lizrdking's birthday. I know this means little to a good portion of the readership, but that doesn't matter, since it should matter. I mean, hey, he wrote the next story, so you should care. + International House of Pancakes' "Rutti Tutti Fresh 'n' Fruity" breakfast comes with your choice of bacon or sausage. + Des Moines, Iowa has the highest per capita Jell-O consumption in the United States. -:+:-------------:+:- -+:[everywhere men are born free, but living in chains]:+- -+:[submitted by : lizrdking]:+- Dateline: Paris What was once a perfect model of a peaceful and prosperous community has been turned into a new model of modern massacre, exemplifying the struggles and heart-ache caused by harsh civil strife. This series will bring you back to a time of calamity, a time when it was safe to walk through the streets, a time when it was safe to make an honest living; up to the present where a man cannot even be sure that he will come home to enough food on the table. For the first time in public we will give you an unprecedented look at the inside of the turmoil, from the parties involved to the reasons leading up to the chaos. Dateline: Versailles Inside the campus at Versailles, the morning begins with a short briefing on the upcoming game, followed by the parking of team related vehicles in the choice parking spots that surround the main building. Once escorted inside, (accompanied by a flock of young women), the ritual dressing begins, and the players are suited into their neatly pressed jackets and shirts, adorned by new ties, sometimes a sweater, and always shiny leather shoes. Once lessons are begun for the day, the relaxed atmosphere of the basic courses is pleasing to these hard working athletes, who take this opportunity to show off there mastery of such courses and activities such as the ritual afternoon hunt, and the morning races. When classes have subdued for the day, it is time to mingle with the rest of the population at the campus, and at the midday meal, casually waltz through the lunch line, simply moving those less unfortunate out of the way. Once seated, (at none other than the royal seating area), a few choice young women have the privilege of assisting the food into his mouth, such that it does not soil or otherwise mark up his game-day outfit. Once the meal is over, (though in the average work day a good few hours remain) it is time for the team to assemble, and to meet once again in the restricted areas of the locker room. During the walk across campus, many a game of "ball" is broken up as a small group of the elite are seen coming across the yard from the dining hall. After assembling, another brief meeting takes place, and at the close of this meeting the coach is boarded where they will be whisked away by boat to travel to important overseas delegation. With the departure of the privileged, the young women of the campus are returned once again to their studies, and the rest of the palace bites their nails as they wait for the results and good word from across the sea. Dateline: Paris Just take a walk down any street or alley in Paris, and it is impossible to hide from your eyes the lowly heartache and disaster that confronts any member of this degenerate class. We turn now to the country, where we hear the woes of leaving for hard work in the fields as early as 6.30, and often not returning home till late afternoon; thirty minutes of lunch break, and facilities that reek of the pleasures of the wealthy. The work is hard, and often yields no results under the pressure of those for whom the work is for. The pathetic social gatherings, the assemblies in the villages outside of the palace at Versailles, and the trivial love lives, producing relationships and offspring that will do nothing but further their troubles. Contained within these workers, the ordinary, the producers of the system is the desire to no longer produce, but to instead consume. The average worker, dressed in the garb which not all too demeaning separates him from the noble mentality, will observe these finely dressed men parade through the courtyard, his courtyard, the land that he has sown, the land that he paces each day, the books and barrels he has printed, the murals and signs in advertisement that he has painted on the windows, but still must get on his knees and kiss the boot of this "gentlemen" that walks before him. The life lead by the peasant was one of work and more work, hope and more hope, but most of all, of contempt. The student who watches with anger the suited player, achieved and well worked, with the privileges and honors that go with his title prance around so easily and honorably the campus, as he is left to stare as he goes on with the daily workings of life. He watches with an eye as he knows that this noble, vial creature struts with no worries as to the taxing situation, yet while he, the honest tradesman, is given no favor and pays a heavy due. Just as the average student watches and knows that that star-studded player does not worry about his marks; as such a noble, and as such a position as a hero that he is not in danger of following below the required mark, yet as an honest worker, it is a tough criteria he faces everyday. Dateline: Somewhere in the Mountains The life of the clergyman, if one was to honor a life, would be the life that one should honor. All day these devout men work, slaving over their books, copying ancient manuscripts, learning the ancient tongues, and perfecting the worship of their God. The goal is simply to lead a life as simple as it can be, to engulf ones self in knowledge and learning. So is the life of the intellect, the student who receives all the best marks, takes the courses seriously, and is the model student of the school. Yet it is just these privileges, these honors that lead to corruption, and the honest clergyman who once took the sacred vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, finds himself spoiled, soon unchaste, un-obedient, and surprisingly wealthy. As a man of noble stature, women come easy to him, as the son of wealth, poverty is not an option; and as obedient, he is obedient only to the callings of self-interest; the church, now more than ever, a connection to the weak government. And it is the intellect, who with his fine dress, (though not necessarily extravagant), fine looks, and cunning wit and mind, is a draw to the same above as the clergyman; using his talents to find monetary benefits, his mind and looks to find women, and the un-disciplined nature of his actions the very basis of his folly. The clergyman and intellect, who with the noble and suited share no common interests or goals, no motivation or desire, except that of lust, money and power; these individuals too, like the fine dressed noble or athlete, are exempt to the burdens that their respective institutions of rule lay upon them. To the intellect, he needs no swaying or alternative weighing of the marks, for he can accomplish these easy on his own. And as a member of the elite Church, the clergyman is exempt from all such taxes, yet still receives the pleasures of the noble. Dateline: Paris Hidden by the darkness of the street corners, laying low throughout the streets at dawn, these secret revolutionaries hear all, see all, and know all. Watching the happenings of city life, the members are some of high status, others of no status other than that of mercenary; a group disgruntled but organized. Some, dressed in the rags, other in modest dress, know each other by nothing but a simple code, or by face, but can instantly recognize someone true to the cause. These creatures of the night are those who oppose everything that their nation stands for; it are these who question the hand that feeds them, or in some cases, is unable to provide for them. Questioning anything, challenging the simple threads by which the society stands, looking for nothing more than an angry fix for their self-inflicted self-interest, and the longing to have more. In some cases it is honest equality that they seek, while in others it is simply the desire for a role reversal. In the city streets outside the campus, it are those who cling to that special wall, mill around it, breathe from it, claim the steps and the cluttered hall. Their hair is short, shaved, styled loosely or offensively, often green, or red, or purple. Velvet Doc's, fish-string leggings or tights, ragged, baggy, cut off slacks, or tight fitting jeans, bleach marks, spikes, chains, and rope hanging from every loose place to clip these objects. Patches galore, symbolizing everything and everything, the faded anarchy symbols that proclaim their cause loud and clear. The headphones clamped on tight, nodding heads, stomping feet. Uninterested attitude, lippy, rude, and disrespectful tones of voice, and just as disrespectful words. Questioning everything and everything, without ever once finding the need to question themselves, ready to challenge anything they see as wrong; spurn at the well dressed, bicker at the intellects, and cast themselves above those peasants, just as the revolutionaries themselves hate with such a vengeance the rich, the powerful, and the holy. Willing to take up arms, yet unwilling to attend a class; willing to preach and complain, yet unwilling to rationalize their situation, and constructively improve it. These unmotivated green haired, patch wearing students are the ones who complain so loudly about the conditions of their own life, and of the unjust and the bad in the system. Yet it is also these students who want nothing more than to become the epitome of those they so hate; just as it is the dwellers of the wine shop who want nothing more than to float around Paris in their fancy dress and carriage. And it is with these unhappy parties that our story begins. Dateline: Paris And so it is that these green haired students spend their days grouping together in the dark alleys and the corner shops, lowering dark eyes as the boat carrying the privileged and skilled across the sea passes, turning their heads, but turning back wide eyed as they see the thousands of helpless, defenseless common workers, simply begging someone to lead them. It was then that these unfortunate beings became grouped into something more than a few rebellious, shocking ideas, but a party based on anger; a party based on the same feelings that the Third Reich would be based on one hundred and fifty years later. Organized, led; rising up against the intellect and privileged, at the base seeking only what they don't have; the lust, the money, the wealth, and the privileges. From here the secret meetings, spies, and acquaintances began. Quiet moving, intelligence threatened. A fleeing King, a burning prison, and a revolution had begun. It is this scene that awaits your eyes when you look outside of your own home today, the scene where you see the fires, the mobs, and the hangings. No more secrets are needed for these revolutionaries, and the entire city now is cast under the dark cover of the uprising. What will become of these athletes, these intellects, and these everyday students? The same as of what became of the nobles, the clergy, and the peasants. For in this snapshot, the diversity and the temper in the differences of the social classes can be seen anywhere, from the friendly campus of Nauset Regional High School, to the grainy streets and flowing fountains of Paris. "Everywhere Men are Born Free, but are Living in Chains" -:+:-------------:+:- -+:[nauset as pre-revolutionary france]:+- -+:[submitted by : kayem]:+- It is possible to point out the parallels that one could draw between a Pre-Revolutionary French community and our high school. One such community would have had the social class system that was demonstrated throughout France at the time, with 3 estates. Such as social class system may be seen in Nauset, and will be outlined in this essay. In Pre-Revolutionary France, most of the people were in the 3rd Estate, meaning that they were in the lowest class, below the 1st and 2nd estates, having clergy and nobles in each, respectively. This is much like our school, where students fit into the categories of the three estates: 1st estate, the jocks, "jockettes," and the other assorted popular people. The 2nd estate consists of the "punks"-the ones who pit themselves as totally unlike the 1st estate in their ways, yet their practices of admittance into this estate are quite similar. The 3rd estate consists of everyone who doesn't fit into those stereotypes or ways of life. The 1st estate enjoyed many special privileges that others did not, such as the run of the school, being able to do what others couldn't-in a sense, the holy ones of the school. This estate enjoyed many different privileges due to their social stature, their vows to the administrators of the school often went disregarded, often deciding to be daring and use their power for what was forbidden of them to cut corners. They were also very skittish of acceptance into their group, only the socially and physically perfect were allowed. The 2nd estate of Nauset was in possession of a series of similar rights and privileges, yet believed to be horribly oppressed below the 1st estate, when in reality, they were almost equal in stature, the sole factor dividing the two groups being that they were not quite as difficult to be inducted into. Yet they discriminated as much as the 1st estate, and outright denied doing so, proclaiming that the 1st estate was unjust in its practices, while its own practices were quite the same, in actuality. The 3rd estate, being comprised of the majority of other students, felt outraged at their hideous treatment from the higher estates, and wished that they could receive better treatment from the higher estates. They disliked being the only one who actually had to work for their social stature. They were tired of being look down upon by the 1st and 2nd estates and most of all, being mocked by these estates for their poor social situation. The conclusion to this situation was that something must be done. There were a few enlightened ones around the school, who slowly gathered forces and began to collaborate to revolt against these gross injustices. They slowly formed plans and took the school by storm. The system was overturned, and the 3rd estate began to reach justice. The oppressed one had prevailed over the Goliath. The estates of the typical Pre-Revolutionary French community were grossly unjust, yet until the revolution, there was not much the 3rd estate's people could do to help their situation at all. The French Revolution vastly improved things for everyone in France, save the 1st and 2nd estates, but it did gain the majority of the people some rights. -:+:--------------:+:- +evolution+ editor : duct tape boy + sign up for the evolution mailing list! - mail zaphod@sidehack.gweep.net + available for anonymous ftp: ftp.etext.org:/pub/Zines/Evolution snail mail address: +evolution+ P.O. Box 1631 Orleans, MA 02653 (C) 1997 Mono Boy Productions, in association with Angst Communications and Beat Productions.