By Neanderthal Matt

Yo homes, yeah, I know that sound, but do you? The sound that you savor just like cottage cheese, you know the one? No, not a bullhead catfish. The Grind, yeah the grind. That rippin’ tracker truck grind that makes you want to jump on elephants. Let’s not forget the roots of it all. Yeah, just cause someone can do a hang five down to the ground doesn’t mean that a person who makes shoe lace tips can’t get roots and ride. Yeah, whatever you want, you better know your cans of soup also or be stuck without Campbell’s, okay?

Dude, I know it was sick, you don’t need to tell me, a hang five from rolling stereos. Those urchins know their launch ramp from their hair. I’m not one to swap cows either. I’m just one to know and live for what I ride. (Which is satisfaction, ya know.) Continue reading →

By Howard U. Dewin

Volume 1, Issue 1, Page 6 (November 1988)

The milk carton leaned low to the counter and whispered to the knife lounging in the morning sun, “I bet you fifty bucks I get put away before you get washed.”

“You’re on, man,” stuttered the knife, “and don’t think of stiffing me this time, cause I’m sharper now. I’ll cut you bad if you don’t fork over the dough pronto.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” taunted the milk leaning a little. “You cut me, there’ll be a mess, and you’ll be history when bitch gets pissed and chucks down the disposal to make you behave.” Continue reading →

With E.C. Nal

Volume 1, Issue 1, Page 6 (November 1988)

Hello. Now that we’ve been formally introduced, may I begin? Thank you. You see, there’s somethin’ I’ve gotta say. It’s just a thing that needs to be said openly, and I’m willing. Actually, it’s not just one thing, it’s a collection. They’ve been building up in my mind for quite some time now. Taste a few of them here. If you don’t agree, keep shut up. If you do agree, write and let us know.

Bush is going all the way, so don’t even worry about it any more. Don’t you hate it when you start picking apart your cuticles in class and they start to bleed? Then, wouldn’t you know it, no one has any nail clippers handy. Hanes underwear tends to rip right around the seam area. If you hold a lighter under plastic too long, it’ll melt. My brain is melting, but that doesn’t mean that I’m plastic, does it? Continue reading →

By Scott “Duke” Berkey

Volume 1, Issue 1, Page 8 (November 1988)

He sat quietly before the crackling, soft warmth of the open fireplace, gently removing boogers from the warm moist interior of his nose. He had been at work for only minutes, but over the years had worked on several other generations of young boogers. In times past the boogers had been passive, often willing prey before the unfeeling fingers that branched from the ends of his long arms. Indeed he had found little resistance to his pokings and proddings into the cozy confines of the mucous mainstream. This time, though, many boogers were resistant to removal, remembering the most recent picking that had resulted in a nasty infection and little positive action. Still, the boogers had little choice in the matter. Continue reading →

Volume 1, Issue 1, Page 8 (November 1988)

The long-awaited follow-up to the 8-times-platinum “Slippery When Wet” LP has finally arrived, and that it has. Named after their hometown/starting place, “New Jersey” has a homey, sentimental feel to it. The songwriting is typical Bon Jovi: main themes (strikingly similar to those used in “Slippery When Wet”) include the good old days, tough love and hot sex.

From the first seconds, you are won over by that familiar Richie Sambora guitar. When you hear that too familiar JonBon rasp, you know you are home. In a sentence: it’s crisp, it remembers, it hopes, and, oh yeah, it rocks. Continue reading →

Volume 1, Issue 1, Page 8 (November 1988)

Sometimes I think I know who I am.
I’m God.
I’m Devil.
I’m Earth.
Love is bad and America teaches it.
The new way is Peace.
The old way is Freedom.
America is neither.
I Love America.