<<>> ************************ PARTHENOGENESIS, ISSUE 1 ************************ ARITHMETIC "Dick Van Dyke looks great in pastels," she said as the paint dripped off the walls and the clock smiled. He grinned back at the clock, which caused his face to shatter. Shards of crystallized skin, flesh and teeth fell inward, leaving a gaping red cavity on the front of his head. Unconcerned, he stretched languorously, and then gasped as his outstretched limbs and in fact his whole body melted into a gray putrid slime which was absorbed by the couch. The gasp fluttered about the room until it hit a lampshade, then shattered into thousands of myriad tiny gasps which visibly shot outward, bouncing off walls and other obstacles, until they all at once encountered each other in the middle of the room. In the instant in which they all struck each other simultaneously, they grew, darkened, developed strange shapes, fastened to each other in various complex ways, and formed into the shape of a man. He opened his eyes and sighed deeply. The sigh turned into a minor gale which shook the curtains, knocked over several candles (which, incidentally, were not there and had never been) on the brown table by the couch, and billowed her hair. She turned to him. "Suffocation IS a beautiful thing," she pressed on, trying to get her point across. "Arithmetic," he said. "Arithmetic," he said again, liking the sound of it. "Arithmetic," he said once more, impressed with the sheer ponderousness of it. "It's arithMAtic," she corrected, enunciating carefully. "Arithmetic," he said, his way. "No, no... arithMAtic!" she said, forcibly. He frowned at her and she disappeared. He looked around. The way the light bulb in the lamp shone reminded him greatly of the sun, and he recalled that some peoples of the world worshipped a sun god. Or at least did at one time. He determined to worship the lamp god. "ArithMAtic," she said, still trying to correct his pronunciation, which she was very particular about. He did not ignore her, for she did not exist - she COULD not exist, he had banished her from his consciousness. She did not know this, and blithely continued repeating the word. "ArithMAtic," she announced confidently. He was kneeling on the floor, bowing to the lamp, worshipping it and hoping for its favor. He sand chants to it, which were actually just combinations of the word "arithmetic". "Ari ithma mati mati tic," he chanted solemnly. "ArithMAtic," she stated firmly. "Rithma ma ticari ari ari thma," he chanted joyously. "ArithMAtic," she grated. "Tic tic matic, banana fanna fo-fick," he chanted hopefully. "ArithMAtic," she mumbled, then switched off the lamp. His world became dark. He fell over, stunned. His god had deserted him! He wept, bitterly. She stood over him and smiled. It was not a friendly smile, in fact, it was a very horrid grimace. "ArithMAtic." * POOBRAINS 'R' US Multicolored flowers adorn my buttcheecks. Phallic spheres, gee, how I love beers. Fie, yon bluebirds, I've lost me tuna fish. "Aie!" cried the jackal, "Why must I be green?" Shnicker Schnacker, Shnicker Shnacker, wop wop woo! I've got a problem and it might be you! So the squeegee sang aloud:"My loins are for you!" * Now I'm not one to be spreading misleading rumors, but these truths just happened to come to me in a series of very sensual visions, and I thought I'd share them with you. I learned recently a few interesting FACTS about Undertone's owner/DJ, Mykl Kryka, either through reliable sources from the spirit world or my own sneaky infiltration of Undertones. I first became aware of Mykl's romantic involvement with his bartender Sam when I observed them carressing each others, um, hands under the table. In casual conversation, I learned that Mykl and Sam have been regularly dating, but only on Saturdays. But we all have our little scandals, don't we? And I know them all. For instance, it has been reported to me that on Sunday, May 3, at approximately 2:40 am, DAN whispered "sweet nothings" into MYKL's ear in a public restaurant (NOT pubic restaurant, ya sickos!) which will remain anonymous in order to protect the integrity of the establishment (which is IHOP). So anyway, I also heard that there are plans in the making for Undertones to host a benefit concert to help raise money for Mykl fourteen illegitimate children. "I don't want them begging in the streets any more, but I can hardly support my three (wonderful) wives, let alone these (wondrous) (beautiful) (wonderful) kids," someone was quoted as saying that Mykl said. He may even bring in the band Cyberslaughter to play, a rogue ant reported. I don't know, though... this is the same man who claimed that "my flesh piston came (so to speak) from my mother's vagina". Tsk tsk. In other rumors... er, news... the old Casaguapa is dead. RIP. But a new one has risen in its place. We shall see... For those of you who don't know about Casaguapa, just pretend. Someone told me the Damned is going on tour in June, and Gators is on the list of announced venues. This means that DJ Schmeg should probably start playing some of their stuff on Wednesdays, RIGHT?!? And let's talk about Greeeeeley. Actually, Greeley's pretty evil. Let's not. Oh, and I've also found out about plans for a new skate park to be built in Wellington, due to high public demand. Some more people news: The BAT TWINS, otherwise known as Keely and Jette (pronounced Yet-a, as in "yet a-nother black eyeliner pencil used up"), or in some circles (and an occassional square) known as "Patricia and Dave", are the ringleaders of a Vampiric Lesbian Drug Cortel based in Fort Collins. They have openly admitted IN PUBLIC that they have, on numerous occassions, shared water and more. Sharing water, you know what that can lead to, don't you? Germs... revealing the secret of your bad breath... THE COMMON COLD. Stay away from these Amazon Vampires. Hey, girls, bats poop a lot you know. Also, I was able to find this out at great cost to myself (I was nearly killed! I'll tell you the story sometime.): The Collins Files, that fine upstanding example of a musical special interest zine, is actually a front for an international terrorist organization called C.R.I.P.E.S. (the Creative Righteous Individuals for Post-Erection Shivers), and they are planning to take over the minds of everyone in Fort Collins, starting with Undertones! They have reported some success so far, in fact, they have all the fraternities in town under their control! Be warned! They could be going after YOU next! * Dream your shadows alive... Find your favorite fever, and build the bridge to decadence. With the answer, choose the finger but kiss the hand. Ask me, if you fear. Listen not to what I say, but to what the blossoms whisper. Am I wise? Answer, and I will disagree. * Here's a good band to listen to if you're into heavy bloodletting and acts of meaningless violence: Cyberslaughter. With their debut album (self-released), Chrome Dreams and Automatic Screams, they've shown that they are a sound to be reckoned with in the industrial world. The music sounds something like a cross between Front 242 and Operation Ivy. The talent for this band is unknown, which is a rarity in today's industrial bands. Karakkon Malevil does vocals and guitar, Michael the Moist also does vocals, as well as keyboards, and the two drummers names are given as Kama and Sutra. On the back of the album, though, it does explain that "Sutra" is what they named their drum machine. The outstanding songs on this six song EP should be played repeatedly, preferably at high volume next door to a church. "487", the opening track, is a poignantly sad, yet moving, song about purity. "Blackie Me" is a twisted song which reminds me of pre-Ministry concert fights in the parking lot. "Defecation is a Beautiful Thing" is a passable tune, it's happy-go-lucky theme contrasting sharply with the rest of the album. "Computer Viruses Bug Me" is a whirlwind of frantic guitars, breaking glass, and distorted high-pitched screams. "Rippers" and "Whipslash" are tunes strewn with pounding drums, completely insane electric guitar duels, and Karakkon's gravelly voice chanting destruction. There are even rumors abroad that Cyberslaughter may be going on tour soon, so keep an eye out. Or better yet, poke an eye out. - Mohammed X * Dear Mom: I was wanting to write to you regarding something very odd that recently happened to me while I was walking down this road... A small, yellow, furry, smelly creature stepped out. I grasped its fury probis and tucked it under my armpit. Walking on, it spoke to me, saying: "Mortal! Know you that you hold in your hand a God?" I stopped, stunned. An involuntary belch escaped my lips. The creature, sensing my distraction, wriggled out of my armpit and dropped to the ground. I expected it to scuttle away, but instead it surprised me by scurrying up my leg and perching on my penis, which was erect. "Let me tell you a bit about myself," it said... "I am Fungus, king of the people of Lundi. Among my people, I am known as god of fertility and oral sex. But I digress... I have a purpose that begins its fulfillment by perching on your penis." "You lie!" I exclaimed. "No, in order for our people to survive, I must find a human mortal specimen worthy of the prophecy. The prophecy states that a young mortal, lost to the ways of his world, lonely and sexually deprived will, upon being introduced to the ultimate orgasm will suddenly choose to redirect his life into a moment of complete and utter outer cellular movement. After this instantaneous glory, life will be null, void and meaningless on the Blue & White Tierra." "And if I refuse?" "What? But why should you refuse?" "Oh, I dunno... just to be a dick I suppose." Fungus looked at me strangely, then proceeded to laugh in a very annoying high-pitched giggly way. Just when I though the creature was going to implode from the uncontrolled cackling, he turns to me and says, with a twinkle in his eye, "Kiss me or lose me forever!" I laughed, the laugh of a maniacal serial killer, and proceeded to squash this crazy yellow dork into oblivion. After the horrendous task was completed, I spun my heel and continued my saunter down the road... and this chick jumped me... I gotta quit doing acid. Love, Dave D. * Greetings. By now I bet you're wondering just what the hell this bunch of papers you're holding is all about. Well, I can't answer that. All I can tell you is it's called Parthenogenesis, and it is just a bunch of words put together for your benefit. This zine is perfect to stick in the bathroom, so when you're stuck in there and feel like you'll be there for a while and you've got nothing to read, you'll have this. Plus, if you run out of toilet paper you'll have this too. Wow. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mohammed X, and you are not. This zine is dedicated to the virtues of Nonrealism, Nocturnalism, Neolithism (not really, well, maybe, what does it mean anyway), Naturalism (NOT!), and Nonsensicality. And it does not actively promote tooth decay. Any donations of money or material (stories, poems, artwork, nose hairs, fingernail clippings for my secret voodoo rituals, letters, ANYTHING) are accepted; send them to the address below. I can't guarantee to print everything I get UNLESS you include $ for me to print it. The $ to print this zine comes out of my own pocket, but that's ok, because who would pay for this trash? I KNOW it's trash, I KNOW it's lame, but you're reading it aren't you? To quote a poem I wrote with my friend and dartboard Akhmael called "Evil is cool, Good is Peanut Butter": "I sacrifice you; in the name of Winnie the Pooh; you kill me; in the name of hockey.". Really, there was no point in quoting that, but just think. Chances are you probably don't do it enough. Think. I know I don't. The penIs, mightier than the sword. -Mohammed X Parthenogenesis 804 S.College Suite 8363 Ft. Collins, CO. 80524 * a conversation: JEAN LUC: Get that boy off the bridge! WESLEY: but captain... JEAN LUC: In my ready room! now! WESLEY: so why do they call it your "ready room"? JEAN LUC: You'll find out when you're ready. Har har! WESLEY: very funny captain. JEAN LUC: bend over and touch your toes. WESLEY: no, not again! JEAN LUC: WILLIAM: Sir, I... why, you're bald all over! JEAN LUC: what is it, number one? Can't you see I'm busy! WESLEY: I thought I was your number one! JEAN LUC: shut up, boy! WILLIAM: sir, we're under attack! JEAN LUC: by whom? WILLIAM: we don't know for sure, sir. JEAN LUC: on viewscreen! JEAN LUC: it looks to me like a Venorxiian Battleship! WILLIAM: we thought so too. but they could be Romulans, disguising themselves as Venorxiians! JEAN LUC: hmm... you could be right number one. WARF: message coming in sir! EERIE VOICE: federation starship! Hand over all your young nubile women! JEAN LUC: and if we do not? EERIE VOICE: we will kill you all! JEAN LUC: identify yourself! EERIE VOICE: I am Mel Blanc. WARF: he could be lying sir. JEAN LUC: hmm... EERIE VOICE: we have waited too long! We will kill one of you as an example! WILLIAM: no! EERIE VOICE: yes! the BOY shall die! WARF: fuckin' A! WILLIAM: sir? what should we do? WARF: captain? shall we attack? GEORDI: captain? DIANA: sir? WILLIAM: captain! WARF: sir! Shall We Attack!?!? JEAN LUC: NO! WARF: but we could blow them away! JEAN LUC: ah, but we are peaceable! WARF: but they KILLED one of our crewmembers! WILLIAM: it was only Wesley. JEAN LUC: true. but we ARE on a mission! WILLIAM: to seek out new worlds- JEAN LUC: no, besides that. I didn't tell you about it before so I could build up suspense. You see, we must find... the secret Hair Growth Tonic! WILLIAM: but that's impossible! there's no such thing! EERIE VOICE: not true! we have it! JEAN LUC: you do? EERIE VOICE: yes! and we will trade it for... the Counselor! JEAN LUC: make it so! WARF: but captain, she can only embroider! JEAN LUC: she'll have to do. Engine Room! One to beam over to the alien vessel! WILLIAM: sir, the engine room doesn't beam things. the transporter room takes care of that. JEAN LUC: shut up! this is my ship, I can do what I want! WILLIAM: not any more, I'm taking over. JEAN LUC: you can't! WILLIAM: I just did. JEAN LUC: ok. WILLIAM: Warf! photon torpedo that spaceship! WARF: yes sir! WILLIAM: Jean Luc... be in my ready room in five minutes. WESLEY: hi guys! WILLIAM: what the hell? I thought you were dead!! WESLEY: oh no sir. it was just a hologram of me that appeared to burn up and die. you see, all I did was- WILLIAM: shut up. Warf! WARF: sir! WILLIAM: stab him. WARF: yes SIR! WESLEY: aaargh! WILLIAM: is he dead yet? WARF: no sir. WILLIAM: ravage him. WARF: yes sir. * It's Guapa time! Seeing as I am a High Sloppa of Guapa, I really should devote some space to Guapa in this zine. Okay, well, for those of you who really don't know who Guapa is, he's the god of Free Beer. One swell guy. Actually, he's also the god of alcoholic beverages in general, but especially beer. And especially FREE beer. You see, Guapa gives his blessings as he sees fit... mostly when you praise him a lot. When you get free beer, you should thank Guapa, for he is the one who got it for you. No, it wasn't the guy who gave it to you, that was just Guapa's emissary. Who do you think divinely inspired the guy to share his beer with you? Guapa, of course. Heck, I find unopened 6ers of beer lying in the middle of the street late at night, and who do I praise? Guapa. And hey, if you don't like beer, you can still like Guapa! Aside from him being the patron god of all other alcoholic beverages, he has a family of other generous gods as well: BOB, the god of smokeable materials; SID, the god of hallucinogenics; FRED, the god of free rides and found money; GEORGE, the god of sex, to name the major ones. They do not like praise or open adoration, but they don't mind if you share their blessings with others. I'll quote some passages to you from the Holy Scrolls of Guapa: "SCROLL 2: Praise Guapa, for he gives us beer! For free! That's right, beer! For free! Yeah!" "SCROLL 19: Hope for the hopeful, for it only will defeat hopelessness. Hopelessness is for those with no hope, and those with no hope are quite hopeless. Praise Guapa! Praise be unto praise, for with it we praise Guapa. And don't forget the orange juice!" "SCROLL 51: And one day Bob sayest unto Sid: 'Lo, am I high!'. And Sid replieth unto Bob, saying: 'Lo, where'd you get that extra eye?'. And George walked in and sold them each a concubine." "SCROLL 78: Gee, though I walk through the valley of sobriety, I shall fear no policeman, because Guapa loves me. Yea, I am most pious and never stray from the path of drunkenness and beer (free) is man's best friend. I think that maybe I'll pop a cerveza now and ponder this dry little valley..." Okay, here's a little story I thought you might like... it's from Guapa's Bedtime Stories, a compilation of various writings and stuff about Guapa. This is from Genesis of Drunkenness. CHAPTER 1: OF THE CREATION OF BEER In the beginning, there was water. Lots of it. High on Mount Guapa (which is a good state of mind to be in that Holy Place), Guapa sat upon his throne and pondered. What he pondered was anyone's guess. One day, while out for a stroll, he happened to notice the vast amounts of water that existed on the world. Our Lord Guapa was troubled, and the reason for that was this: Why should there be just water? And so Guapa Most High (believe me, he is) uttered the legendary phrase: "Let there be beer!" And there was beer. Guapa was pleased. He set about to drinking most of it, and was even more pleased. Soon his days and nights were taken up with drinking the Beer, and making more, and drinking, and making more... and all was good. But soon again Guapa was troubled, for he wished to share his Brew with someone, for as everyone knows, it's no fun to drink alone. And so Guapa rose, fell, and rose again; he was very drunk, that being his nature. Guapa clapped his hands together seventy-six times (Guapa swears it was seventy-six, but it has been speculated that it was closer to three), belched, and created the People. The people cried aloud with joy that they had been created such. Guapa offered them beer, which the people promptly drank; and lo, it was good shit. The people cried aloud with joy that they could drink this Divine Brew, and drank some more. Guapa wished that they would stop crying aloud with joy, and he said so; and lo, the people stopped crying out with joy. The people and Guapa then got down to some serious drinking. * god (that's me), how I love these. Each of these says the same thing backwards as it does forwards. If you know any more good ones, send 'em in! "Rise to vote, sir." "A man, a plan, a canal - Panama!" "Was it a cat I saw? No, Miss, it's Simon." in reference to that illustrous periodical: "Live on, Time, emit no evil." Napoleon Bonaparte, as he was being escorted to the island Elba after being exiled from France, was supposed to have said: "Able was I ere I saw Elba." personally,I think all he could say was "Shit shit shit shit..." And here's one even in Latin, though I don't know what it means, probably something obscene: "Sator, arepo, tenet opera rotas." * ---------------------------------------------------------------- PEER PRESSURE INC. our motto: "Do it! Everybody does!" We here at PP are devoted to convincing our fellow peers of the vast benefits of joining with us in anything we do. Besides, everyone else has joined. Non-members of PP are ridiculed, tarred and feathered, and shot with rock salt by their peers. And if that's not enough incentive to join, we offer a newsletter, called PPP (the Peer Pressure Post). PPP is published somewhat semi-periodically... usually. When we get around to it. Don't force us, though! Hey! Okay, we'll do it, since you insist. To join, send your $1.00 (initial membership fee) + $2.00 (yearly dues) with the attached sheet filled out completely to the address below. Membership is $2.00 per year. Membership privileges include: A membership card, the PPP newsletter, and the satisfaction and prestige that goes along with being a part of the whole. A non-profit organization (pretty much). Peer Pressure Inc. 804 S.College Suite 8363 Ft.Collins, CO 80524 P.S. Remember to photocopy the sign-up form and distribute it to at least 2 other people, before you fill it out. P.P.S. You won't regret this. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - NOTE: Before filling out this form, please photocopy and distribute to at least 2 other people. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - NAME _______________________________________________ AGE ________ ST.ADDRESS ______________________________________________________ CITY, STATE ________________________________________ ZIP ________ SOCIAL STRUCTURES YOU BELONG TO _________________________________ _________________________________________________________________ EVER GIVEN IN TO PEER PRESSURE BEFORE? __________________________ (IF NO, THEN INCLUDE AN EXTRA $1.00) WHO/WHAT CONVINCED YOU TO JOIN? _________________________________ WILL YOU DO IT? (Come one, EVERYBODY'S doing it!) (If you don't, nobody will ever respect you!) YES [ ] NO [ ] (NOTE: If you marked the NO box, you're a reject.) Enclosed is my $3.00 ($1.00 initial membership fee, $2.00 for first year). Please sign me up as a member of PP. [ ] Enclosed is my donation of $50.00 or more. Please make me happy. [ ] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ****************************** END OF PARTHENOGENESIS ISSUE 1 *******************************