Woo-hoo! Anything with JFK on the cover is AOK in my book. But five JFKs? Look out, Jackie-O! You're in for the ménage-a-six of your life! Sike! There ain't a whole lot of sex on this record, but there are guys with cool names like Torsten and Arnim! And they were all born with a more pronounceable gift: the ability to rock you! I don't know where the Beatsteaks are from, because I accidentally threw out the press release, and, frankly, I just don't feel like being resourceful right now.

Close your eyes for a second. Close 'em good. Now, imagine you're sitting, enjoying your day, minding your own business, when all of the sudden a full-blown unicorn gallops out of your ass. You're kinda pissed at first, because this really hurt. I mean, it ripped up your rear something awful. But being pissed passes once the laughter kicks in. Gotta' admit: shitting a unicorn is some pretty funny stuff. Then the laughter dies down, and you start to feel a little self-conscious about having shit out a unicorn. A horse is one thing. A stallion, sure. A colt, fine.

This summer, my friends Debbie, Realtoon, Neogeo the Prophet and I went to the Vans Warped Tour 2002! We all had a great time. Here are some of the things we saw:
• Lots of large people in tiny clothes!
• The Guinness drinking band known as Flogging Molly!
• Pro-BMX biker Rick Thorne give us a free calling card!
• Some funny propaganda at the PETA tent!
• Pimply teens ask us for pot!
• A young lass get hit with a Yoo-Hoo beachball!
• Lots of sweltering heat and waterguns!
• Kids being dropped off by their parents!
• Our good friend Jodi Boatman!

THE DEVIL'S WORKSHOP
Our TV only had two channels, and the only thing watchable was an old ‘70s movie about aliens. So we watch the old ‘70s movie about aliens. It's a bit slow, and so I read Candide and watch the movie at the same time. This works fine for about 40 minutes or so. Then I'm out cold.

My head feels like it got ran over with one of those old fashioned lawn mowers. The kind you have to push real hard to make the blades spin. Well, I feel like someone shoved that thing across my head a couple times, but they weren't quite doing it right, so they just kept trying over and over--and the blades were dull. They just keep shoving the thing into my head, dull blades cracking against my skull and leaving small cuts and bruises on my skin.

STOP SMOKING!
YOU’RE GONNA DIE!
AND IT’S DISGUSTING, FATHEAD!
LOVE,
BETH

Summertime. The time of festivals, fairs and five-dollar drinks. What the fuck? I would never condone what happened at Woodstock ‘99, but I can now sympathize. There are certain things in this world that I find to be cheap by definition. A lunch consisting of a gyro, beverage, and single serving bag of chips is one of them. Why, then, am I asked to pay $12 for this mere pittance of sustenance? The authorities and focus groups worry about crowd safety and sexual assaults at these events. Well take down my report, detective. I’ve just been butt-fucked by the gyro guy.

Paul shut the front door, groaning as he stooped down slowly to remove his boots. His knees were stiff and sore. Standing back up just as slowly and painfully, he stumbled through the living room to the kitchen, gently massaging the small of his back as he went. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he went back to the couch, lowering himself down onto his back at an angle which required minimal use of the knees.

Just because the gentleman's code of conduct admonishes against socking our bespectacled brethren, one should not assume all men are in fact “gentlemen.” Of course, one should also not assume everyone can see your spectacles underneath a latex novelty monster mask. Furthermore, be forewarned that garbage men do not generally have all of their senses about them at 5:00 AM, and are frequently noted for their tendency to overreact when startled.

I woke with a start this morning, and found myself sleeping next to Mel, a “business associate” of mine. She's a botanist by trade. She has a master’s degree, but she also has a very limited and specific clientele. I think I've said enough.
I sat up very quickly and said, “What's going on?” before I was fully awake. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mouth was unbelievably dry. The dirty little two-fold thought that popped into my skull had naught to do with the beautiful woman beside me, and everything to do with money.
A) I had none.