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Thinking to Text Issue 01
"God is as helpless as me" -Billy Corgan
- Smashing Pumpkins
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Thinking t Text
o
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| TtT #1 |
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-enter ideal-
Hi, welcome to 'Thinking to Text #1. you are all probably wondering who the
fuck I am and why the fuck I am jumping on the growing bandwagon of 'zinedom.
great! just what I wanted to tell you!
First of all, now that i think of it, it's not really a bandwagon because
there's not that terribly many people putting out zines. There's quite a
few, but not enough to classify zinedom a bandwagon. Second of all, I'm just
an average guy that constantly writes. I love writing. Everywhere
I go I have a little notebook or paper-pad with me, and my favorite pen is
always burrowed somewhere deep within my pockets. I write everything from
sappy poetry, to editorials, to just plain stupid, feeble attempts at what I
consider comedy. Some of the stuff that will be included in TtT may be too
sappy or emotional but i don't care, that's who I am. If you have any
criticisms, comments or suggestions, let me know. I don't expect alot of
people to read this but I had two choices:
1) submit stuff to multiple zines and probably get it
rejected, laughed at, and spit on.
2) collect it all in my very own zine and get it
rejected, laughed at, and spit on.
I chose #3 (all of the above). That's right! I've submitted some 'purty
stupid stuff to other e-zines and it's actually been released! (hey, maybe
I'm not all that bad???)
Anyways, if you are reading this, thank you! I really appreciate it and
trust me, it makes me feel all warm and gooshy inside. if you like it or
dislike it enough to comment on it, leave me e-mail at kevin@mixcom.com or
find me on IRC as ideal. I am usually in #zines.
This is the last paragraph of the introduction I swear! I just wanted to let
you know that i will accept submissions but please, before considering me,
consider all of the other zines out there. They probably deserve your
submissions more than I do. Some (not all) of the zines I read and enjoy on
a half-way regular basis are: dto, y0lk, rad, and relish among many others.
Read these if you get the chance and give them you're submissions before you
honor me with them. Anyways, on to the first issue.
-ideal
-exit ideal-
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-enter index-
+{title}+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++{author}
-A Recipe For All Of You Food Rats---------------------------------ideal-
-Excerpts..."Joe vs. the Volcano"----------------------------------ideal-
-Mime Time---------------------------------------------------------ideal-
-Satanic Tendencies------------------------------------------------ideal-
-Truth-------------------------------------------------------------ideal-
-Mechanical Education----------------------------------------------ideal-
-Institution-------------------------------------------------------ideal-
-exit index-
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-A RECIPE FOR ALL OF YOU FOOD RATS-
-by ideal-
Here's a nifty little recipe i thought i'd share with you all. I put it
first just in case you wanted something to eat while reading the first issue
of TtT.
INGREDIENTS
2 slices of bread
butter (or your favorite sandwich spread)
a box of Bugles (tm) snacks
DIRECTIONS
First, butter up each slice of bread on one side each. (just like you are
making a regular sandwich) Then, pile as many Bugles(tm) snacks between the
two slices of bread. Gently press down on sandwich for stability. Now, you
are ready to eat!
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-EXCERPTS FROM SCRIPTS THAT WERE REJECTED FOR THE MOVIE "JOE vs. THE VOLCANO"-
-by ideal-
"Joe vs. the Volcano" has to be one of the biggest cheese-ball-istic movies
ever made. Like all movies, it went through many re-writes before the final
script was accepted and immortalized on film. I thought i'd share with you
some of the scripts that were rejected in the creation of this movie.
SCRIPT #1
[As the screen fades in, we are looking down upon a city park. As we move in
closer, a park bench is in the center of the screen. Upon the bench placed in
the park (ergo,"park bench") is a man dressed in a plain white suit. On this
man's lap, lies an old briefcase. Lying atop the briefcase which lies atop
the man's lap, is a box of candy. The man stares into blank space as if he
were waiting for the mother ship to beam him up. After a period of 5
minutes, a bus pulls up and it's doors hiss open. Out steps a black woman
and she sits next to the man on the bench]
MAN
<he sounds mildly retarted> Hello. What's
your name?
WOMAN
<surprised at the man's question> Greta...
Greta Williams.
MAN
Hello, my name's Joseph... Joseph Trump.
Where are you going-a?
GRETA
I'm waitin for a bus so i can get to the
airport. Then i am going to catch a 9:30
flight to Kenya to visit my cousin.
JOE
I was in Kenya once about 4 years ago. That's
Where i met my best friend Lubba. He an' I,
we started a tofu company we did... Called it
Lubba/Trump tofu. Kenya's nice, I remember
the volcanoes the best. <pause> Would you
like a chocolate, mint, butterscotch, cough
drop, or a mentos?
[Joe extends the box of candy to Greta]
GRETA
No thanks. You said you've seen the
volcanoes of Kenya?
JOE
Oh, yes. They were ver-ry big. Lubba and
me got captured by a tribe of aboriginies
and we were forced to sacrifice our pet monkey
to the great volcano god. <sniff> it broke
Lubba's heart but not me...Cuz my momma
always said "Monkies are like a box of
chocolates, if you throw either of them in
a volcano, they'll probably melt."
And ya know what? she was right! The monkey
melted just like that he did. And that's all
i have to say about that.
GRETA
Your mother was a very intelligent woman.
JOE
Not really, stupid is, and stupid she was...
END SCRIPT #1
SCRIPT #2
[the camera is facing a young man who looks terrified. he is sitting in a
chair holding his shoulder which has been shot. He is bleeding profusely
and seems to be in shock.]
BLACK MAN (O.S.)
Now, muther fucker, if you don't tell me what
my boss, Mr. Marco Walters looks like, i'm
gunna make you into a big kahuna burger!
YOUNG MAN
<in pain and practically screaming> He's
black!.....and he's bald!
BLACK MAN
Does he look like a fuckin' chicken?
YOUNG MAN
What??
BLACK MAN
What language you speak boy? You betta'
not say "what" again either! Cuz I don't
speak "what"!
YOUNG MAN
I speak French, German, Japanese, a little
Chinese, Pig Lat.....
BLACK MAN
Do you speak english mother fucker??
YOUNG MAN
Yes!!
BLACK MAN
Good, then answer me, does my BOSS
LOOK - LIKE - A - CHICKEN??
YOUNG MAN
NO!
BLACK MAN
Then why'd you try to choke him like
one?
YOUNG MAN
I didn't...
BLACK MAN
Yes you did punk! you choked his chicken
and threw it into that volcano!
YOUNG MAN
Look! The volcano treatened to kill me!
BLACK MAN
<chuckling> What? the mutha fuking volcano
said "joe, throw me a chicken or i'll cap
your bitch ass" ?
JOE
yeah, kind of. so you see, i had to! If
I didn't, i would be dead and the volcano
probably would've erupted and killed all of
the villiagers.
BLACK MAN
Oh, so you some kind of hero now i guess??
Well, then, i got a speech just about heros.
Do you read the bible joe?
JOE
No, but i have one over by the couch that i
use for a coaster.
BLACK MAN
Oh, that's ok, i wuz just wonderin'. I don't
read it either. Anyways, here's my speech,
then my pal Vinny and i have to go enter a
Twist contest.
Mommaladayalacha, 31:337
the path to the volcano, is followed by
a hero that walks with a chicken.
What he doesn't know is that my boss'
chicken farm was robbed so i got'z to
give him a lickin'.
[with that, the black man pumps joe full of lead and secretly wonders how
a volcano could talk?]
END SCRIPT #2
SCRIPT #3
[two school kids are playin' in a jungle in Kenya. They come upon a clearing
near the base of a volcano]
KID #1
Hey Joe! Go long, catch this coconut!
JOE
Ok, here i go.. <running>... I got it!
<whump!> (he runs into the side of the
volcano) ouch!#@# shit, you mother
fucking piece of volcano shit!
[joe starts to beat the shit out of the volcano as best he can]
JOE
<punch><crack><WHAM!><KicK><whump!>
<boing!><crunch> OW!!! Stupid, stupid
volcano! I hate you. You sux0rz!
you couldn't kill a fly! <kick><kick>
<whap><whap><whap><whap><whap><WHAP!>
[the ground starts to shake and the rock side of the volcano cracks open.
Smoldering lava bursts from the side of the volcano and the last thing we
see is the flesh of JOE and BOY #1 melting off of their bones]
END SCRIPT #3
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-MIME TIME-
-by Marcel Marceau-
and now, the mime preforms his favorite movie, "Singing in the Rain"...
...That was the Mime, preforming his favorite movie, "Singing in the Rain".
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-SATANIC TENDENCIES-
-by ideal-
Jake was awakened by the sound of the construction men outside of his
apartment window.
<RAT-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA>
"Fucking jewish jackhammer!" he said softly underneath his breath. He rose
from his inexpensive futon and lit the circle of candles he had set up in the
middle of his room. Taking his razor, Jake made a deep slice in his right,
middle finger without wincing at all. Slowly, as the blood dripped off the
end of his scarred hand, he drew a pentegram on the floor within the
boundaries of the candles.
When everything was prepared, Jake casually sniffed at his armpits. "Woo! I
better take a shower before I summon the devil! Gotta be clean for my date'n
with Satan!" he thought.
...
The shower was extremely hot. It burned right through to Jake's soul when the
water splattered on the scars from his self-mutilation rituals. He didn't
flinch or dare to let out a recognition of pain. If he did, he would
certainly dissappoint his evil underlord.
After the shower, he grabbed his leather-bound "Book-O-Evil" and stood naked
at the foot of the pentagram. Speaking in mysterious tongues, Jake's face
turned very grave and serious. However, a slight smirk of anticipation could
be seen bubbling at his mouth. He was very excited! It was his first time
summoning the devil to his apartment.
<Knock><Knock><Knock>
Someone was at his apartment door! Jake opened the door a crack and peered
through the opening. "Who is it?" he asked with a slight tinge of annoyance
on his voice.
"Avon calling!...Who the fuck do you think it is? You're the one who was
chanting right? Or did I get the wrong apartment again? I hope not, cuz
then I'll have to kill you."
"Woah! you're the devil!" Jake exclaimed. He threw the door open and extended
his welcome to the man he thought was the devil. "Come on in!"
"EGAD MAN!##@ You're naked! you're not some wierdo are you? Put some clothes
on!" said the man outside of the door.
"Oh, sorry Lucifer!"
"I'm not Lucifer, I'm just one of his demon cohorts."
"WHAT?#! Jake exclaimed in disappointment. "Why isn't Satan here? I
summoned Satan, not some second-rate demon janitor boy!"
"Boo Hoo Hoo... You think that Satan really wants to visit every mindless
worshipper who summons him? There's millions of people like you who try to
summon him everyday. He used to visit them all, but he got sick of it. So
he guarantees the oh-so-lucky demons like me, a few souls if we do the dirty
work." explained the demon. "Besides, Satan has been in so many other zines
anyways! It's about time us demons get a chance!"
"Well,....fine! Where is Satan though? Is he *that* busy?"
"Actually, he's in the middle of a bridge game right now. Then, after that,
he's getting a petticure and his horns are being waxed at 5:00. So you see,
he is a pretty busy devil."
"What?? Are we talking about the same guy? You know, Lucifer, Beelzabub,
the lord of evil?? Yuh know, bloody teeth, claws dripping with intestines
and human feces?"
"Yeah, I know who you're talking about! same person. He's just not as
all-terrifying as you foolish mortals think."
"Foolish? At least I'm not the one who looks like Bob Sagat!" screamed Jake.
"Wha??"
"Bob Sagat, you look like Bob Sagat."
"All demons look like this! And we're very proud of our image!"
"Whatever! Hey, why didn't you appear in a puff of smoke inside of the nice
pentagram I blood-stained on my carpet? I thought there's supposed to be
fire and other stuff when you guys are summoned."
"We used to do that, but that's old school! Now we're more into knocking on
the front door. What the fuck does it matter anyways? I'm here! Now what
in the hell did you try summoning Satan for?"
"Well, I wanted to talk with the big man for a while...hey, he doesn't look
like Bob Sagat too, does he?"
"Nope, Vanilla Ice"
"Ugh!...Well, I also wanted to ask him for magikal powers of evil."
"Now what makes you think that jolly ol' Satan would grant a fool like you
magikal powers?"
"Well, uh, I'm always worshipping him and celebratin' him every waking minute
of my life!"
"Do you actually think that he cares how many fucking goats you killed in the
woods last week or how many glasses of blood you drink in any given day? We
think people like you are stupid."
"Well, at least I don't play bridge!"
"Hey! We all play bridge down there! It's our favorite game and it's pretty
much the only game we play!"
"Geez, now I know why they call it Hell! You evil beings are pretty boring.
You're not as cool as I thought you were!"
"Oh?!? You think you would be a better Hell inhabitant than us? <laff>
that's a joke!"
[SPLUT!]
Jake had split the demon's chest open with the cross his mother brought him
last Christmas. The demon let out a horrific scream and then burst into
bright, crimson flames.
"No mother fucker, I think I'd be a better RULER of Hell!"
Wow, Jake had just killed a demon! He felt very powerful and very very
important. He felt as if he could take over the world.
"I'll show that Bridge-playing evil-wannabe what real terror really is!
Watch out Satan!, here comes Jake!" he squealed. With that, Jake grabbed his
cross and headed out the door. He was on his way to teach the devil a lesson
that he would never forget.
THE END???? (i doubt it)
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-TRUTH-
-by ideal-
Desolate minds think
While searching for their kind
On this desolate plain
On a desolate earth
Shatter the soul
That burns deep within
Forcing you to learn
Forcing you to see
Opening your eyes,
Light scorches you
Truth frightens you
And the lies are created
Shadowing your power,
It will always be there
Among the men, among the gods
The truth knows we are both
The insanity is greater
Now new fears arrise
Darkened skies overrun
Your lies are dead, the future has come
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-MECHANICAL EDUCATION-
-by ideal-
I walk through the doors of my high school 5 days out of every week on
average. Like everyone else, i conform to the cycle of the day. Walk to
class, sit in my assigned desk, listen to overpaid so-called teachers read
from books, and then go home. It's all really pointless to me sometimes. Do
i really go home at 3 o'clock with any more knowledge than i had at
7 o'clock? No! For 11 years now, i have been doing virtually the same
thing. Granted, for the first 6 or 7 years of my education it was definately
needed. However, teaching methods today are practically the same as
brainwashing methods, only on a conscious level. Now that i am in the most
influential point in my life, i need something different to occupy my mind
which is in a constant state of boredom.
Since day one, we are taught to memorize. Dates, names, capitals, statistics,
etc... I, for one, am fed up with it. I'm not saying that memorization is
the worst way to learn, but it's definately not the best. In fact,
memorization can be very effective if it's used in safe doses. See, I come
from a generation that will, if we continue to conform, be excellent Trivial
Pursuit players. The only problem is that no thinking will be involved. We
are witnessing the introduction to a future where no one will think for
themself.
For example, the size of cliques in my school are increasing everyday while
the number of *different* cliques is decreasing. Hundreds upon hundreds of
people walk around, looking towards others to see what is acceptable. They
all show intrest in practically the same things. "What does this have to do
with education?" you may be asking. Well, the same thing happens in classes
except for the fact that there are only 2 different cliques in the eyes of the
system. There are the do-ers and the slackers. I fit in neither group and
there is a very plausable possibility that you don't either. However, I am
viewed as some members of the school's faculty as a slacker.
An explaination for this may be revealed in my opinionated reasoning. First
of all, let me explain the two different cliques that are present in the
classroom. The do-ers are the people who come into class, listen to the
instructor read from the book or notes, and copies down everything the
instructor writes on the board. Keep in mind, while these people may score
higher on tests than me, I doubt that most of them are learning much. Most of
the do-ers i have encountered, act like small sponges. Meaning, they soak up
the information that they need for the current chapter or section, then when
they have taken the test or are otherwise finished with the section, these
sponges are wrung out.
Next, the slackers. The slackers are simply the people who either skip out of
classes to smoke, get high, etc... or the people who come to class and watch
nothing but the hands of the clock. These slackers are usually the ones who
just don't give a fuck about education or their future. They, more than
likely, don't have any valid reasons to hate school.
I have been labelled a "slacker" by some of my 'educated' teachers when, in
fact, i am more of a do-er than a slacker. As of late, my grades have been
decreasing because of my silent protest towards the education system. The
repetitiveness of it has bored me so completely that i have just decided to
neglect a certain amount of my studies.
While this decision could be looked upon as very un-intelligent and even
dangerous to my future, i choose to look at it in a different light. I see
myself as taking less time to program myself and taking more time to think.
Instead of commiting to short-term memory what year George Washington's
wooden teeth started to rot, i spend my time looking at the world and
formulating my own opinions through observation. Keep in mind, facts and
statistics are still important to me but not any more important than emotion
or new ideas. This may hinder my chances at being able to get into a "good"
college or a well-paying job, but i don't care.
So, what do i think we should do? To tell you the truth, i don't know. I
could suggest writing a letter to the school board in your area but i know
that the majority of you out there wouldn't do it. This was just something i
needed to get off my chest. If you agree with me and are tempted to take
action, do it! I'll probably just continue to be scorned by others and lead
a moderately satisfying life watching the world cause it's own destruction.
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-INSTITUTION-
-by ideal-
Escaping my tears
Condoning my words
Illusionary lullabyes
Filled with lying morals
Institutionalized in sorrow
I don't like the institution
Institutionalized tomorrow
I don't trust the constitution
Tear my heart out with your lectures
Bind my body with white cloth
Reddened eyes and desert dry throats
Croaking thoughts like pale bullfrogs
I don't believe in the one man's ghost
That's supposed to save us from ourselves
My savior is of this world
Not something I can't reach...breach?
Institutionalized in sorrow
I don't like the institution
Institutionalized tomorrow
They don't follow the constitution!
I love the freedom
I don't get...
They don't give...
You don't govern me unless I let you!
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-CONCLUSION-
-re-enter ideal-
Well, that's issue one. I hope most of you like it and keep reading it.
Pass it along, upload it to all of the bbs'z you call and leave me
feedback. This publication has no affils yet because i'm the only one who
knew about it untill it was released. If you want to be an affil for any
reason (although i don't know why you would), just ask me.
e-mail: kevin@mixcom.com
I would really enjoy and appreciate any submissions but like i said in the
introduction, be sure to consider the other zines out there that deserve
submissions more than i do.
-re-exit ideal-
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__________________/\__________________
\______ _____| |_____ ______/
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| | \_-" | |
| |thinkingtotext| |
| | issue #1 | |
\ | -released- | /
\| -04.30.96- |/
-4:45 pm-
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"So let the guilty hang, In the year of the boomerang." -David De La Rocha
-Rage Against The Machine
