textfiles/magazines/PU/pu0106.txt

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          P R O P A G A N D A   U N L I M I T E D

    August 9, 1994                  Volume One, Issue Six

 "More Fun Than You Can Have With Forrest Gump's Entrails!"

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                         CONTENTS
                        ----------

1.  Introduction to Issue #6
      by Constantine

2.  Propaganda By Mail
      featuring Two Fish

3.  Standardized, Shmandardized
      by Newt

4.  Fish and Loathing in Dystropia
      by Midget Caesar

5.  Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace, Part Six
      by Constantine

6.  Magic:  The Addiction
      by Malakai

7.  Short Stories
      by Aquarius

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                           STAFF
                          -------

Midget Caesar ........ The Head of Heads, Writer Uno.

Constantine .......... Will Edit Issue 7, Right After One
                       More Game O' D00M.

Oregano .............. Evanston Correspondant and a Hell
                       of a Guy.

Newt ................. Spends Too Much Time in Europe.

Nyarlathotep ......... Evanston Correspondant, Black Madness
                       of the Outer Gods.

Aquarius ............. Space Correspondant.

Psychotic Ambition ... Trent Reznor's Evil Twin.

Comrade Slash ........ Moscow Correspondant, KGB Plant.

Nex .................. Distribution Manager, Tai Chi Guru.

Operatech ............ Distribution Staff, Though He Never
                       Writes Anymore.

and introducing...

Malakai,
Platinum Ego,
and Dr. Fig .......... NEW MEAT!  (Writers, feh.)

and, of course...

Two Fish ............. The Arbiter of All That is Cool.

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                   Spiffy, and You?
                    by Constantine


  Damn, it's good to be back.

  It's been a turbulant month here at the Propaganda
Unlimited offices;  Intelligent Shade of Blue, the PU
flagship, went down in a blaze of molten death (some people
say it started doing that a long time ago, but that's
another story).  Temporary operations were moved to the
Temple of Pong, an emergency evacuation that ALMOST started
to work before that, too, bit the big one.  Meanwhile,
mainstream America became enchated with a film about a
retarded philosopher (go figure) and the editor got a new
486 and promptly became a D00M addict.

  [Note at press time:  After vanquishing the Spiderdemon,
the editor has gone on to an even worse X-COM addiction.
There seems to be a pattern here.]

  Even a thriving D00M addiction, though, must be preferable
to that all-encompassing, nearly Cthulhoid menace of Magic:
The Gathering.  And you thought the Reds were gonna
brainwash our country's citizens with hypnotic suggestion?
The real enemy is down at your local comic shop, and the
war is OVER.  Me, I'm holding out for Jyhad, in all of its
AlTeRnaG0Th glory.

  And speaking of Cthulhu, communists, mind control and
Goths, (how's THAT for the segue from hell?) the whole PU
staff is assembled and ready once again to inflict its
warped version of reality upon an unsuspecting world.  And
a special welcome to Platinum Ego, Malakai and Dr. Fig,
the latest members of our zany little troupe.  They're
recovering quite nicely from the initiation party (though
I still can't get the whipped cream stains out of the
Zamboni seat, and the Official Sheep has been gone for a
week), and we're glad to have 'em.

  ISOB has been fully remodeled and rechristened as the
Strangeways Asylum (all the more fitting for the PU
Flagship), and the distribution net features a number of
new numbers-- check 'em out, you won't be disappointed.
A few people were inquiring about becoming sites just
before the Great Crash-- please, contact us again and
we'll get that underway.

  Until next time, Peace, Love and Mangoberries Out.

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                   Propaganda By Mail
                  (our letters column)

  Alas, due to the crash and a simultaneous major Internet
account problem, our mailbox was pretty much wiped clean
after the Great Crash.  You can reach us, as always, at
address PULETTERS@AOL.COM-- send us your input, be it a
pat on the back or flames to the nether regions.  This is
your magazine too, and we want to know what you think.
  When you write, please specify if you want your Net
address printed along with your letter or if you would
prefer anonymity.  Of course, if you DO flame us, while
we'll happily print it, that "anonymous option" might not
apply.  Fair warning.
  While we don't have any reader mail this issue, we do
have the pleasure of printing a letter from the Paragon
of Comicland, the Arbiter of All that Matters, Two Fish!


Dear Unlimited Propagandizers:

  Okay.
  I just finished reading issue number five of PU.  Of
course it was beautiful and masterful as always (um...
especially that "Bummer" of a poem by Aquarius).  The
Dystropia and Fear & Loathing serials continue to wax
brilliant (and I'm NOT just saying that because Midget
Caesar and Constantine are close personal acquaintances.
Really.)
  Anyway, the impetus for this particular missive was
Newt's article, "Mango Madness Abroad".  I found it to
be interesting and sad.  Newt is correct in accusing
Americans of missing out on the joys of the more dramatic
fruits.  Unfortunately, this is only one result of their
having grown up in a country built largely upon apathy
(just ask Midget Caesar).  As Newt pointed out after
experiencing the world outside of the US, other nations
seem not so uncomfortable with experimenting with the
tastes of the more exotic fruits.  She noted that the Swiss
actually offer such delacies as pear and mango jellies.
I ask the PU readers if they have ever seen such spreads in
our corner of the world.  We all know the answer.
  That in mind, I applaud the Swiss for their sense of
fruity innovation.  HOWEVER, I must admit I restrain my
applause.  For, though the Swiss produce such a wonder as
mango jelly, "it didn't even recieve a second glance by the
natives," said Newt.  So... what's the deal?  They make the
stuff but don't eat it?  Come ON!
  That made me start thinking (as few things actually do
anymore).  With all due respect to Newt, maybe she was ever
so slightly off the mark.  At least in one case.  I think
there is a growing percentage of Americans who have become
adventuresome and expanded their taste toward less mundane
fruit products.  Like the Swiss, some Americans (namely the
folk at the otherwise evil Snapple Corrup-- uhm, Corporation)
do produce an exotic fruit product.  However-- based on
Newt's observation of the Swiss people neglecting to consume
the apparently readily available mango jelly-- the similarity
between Swiss and American ends right there.  I have
undeniable proof that folks around my neck o' the woods have
been consuming (yep!) great quantities of that masterpiece
called Mango Madness Cocktail.  For the past few weeks, ever
since I wrote that Mango Madness Cocktail review thing for
PU, I have found it IMPOSSIBLE to find the stuff on store
shelves.  ANYWHERE.  And it's not that the establishments
don't stock it anymore-- the price tags with product
descriptions are always posted.  Simply put, the nectar of
the mango is snatched up quicker than the eye, naked or
otherwise, can see.  It was only yesterday I was able to
corner a bottle for m'self (ask Constantine).
  My point is, yes Newt, most Ameri-sheep are too timid to
savor the true delicacies of the fruit world-- but more and
more people are discovering the goodness and godliness of
the mango.  That just warms the cockles of my-- wait, what
exactly ARE cockles, anyway?  Do I have any?  Hmmm...
Anyway, wht I want to say is, the word is getting out.
Mango Madness is indeed growing.
  That's something we should ALL be proud of.
  (But, hey, just save some for me, okay?  Sheesh.)

In Humble Servitude and Truth Always,
Two Fish
Arbiter of Truth and All that is Cool.

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                Standardized, Schmandardized
              or Why I Hate Number Two Pencils
                         by Newt

     There has been something casting a shadow at the back of
my mind lately...  you know, the part that's almost always
covered in cobwebs but is only used when some important
question crosses your mind, like what was the name of the boy
who played Peter on the Brady Bunch, and you don't remember
for a few days until you're in math class and you aren't even
thinking about it and suddenly you know it was Chris Knight?
No, I haven't been pondering the youngest one in curls (Susan
Olson - ha!), but rather why on earth I have to take so many
gosh darn standardized tests.
     I was thinking about it today, and by my estimate, I
will have taken fourteen standardized tests this year alone.
No really - think about it.  PSAT, SAT, ACT, four Achievement
Tests (oh, excuse me, SAT IIs), AP French and US History
exams, a national French contest and one in math too, a
consumer education profieciency exam, and two IGAP tests.
What disturbs me is that, even though I believe I test well,
I, like everyone else, cannot be represented by little ovals
and Number Two pencils, and yet these exams continue to
define my being through my social security number.
     Standardized tests have been proven to be biased.  Take
this little nugget - the SAT has been repeatedly shown to be
biased by race, gender, and family income and yet nothing
ever happens to change this.  Between a boy and a girl who
score 20 on the math portion of the ACT, the boy's SAT math
score is predicted to be a 540, but the girl's is predicted
as only 470.  I'm not going to get into a feminist tirade
because that's not what I'm angry about.  I'm angry that
everyone knows these tests are poor indicators of performance
and continue to be used to label us as smart, average,
or...uh...intellectually impaired.  Fact is, a lot of people
don't test well.
     Fact is, my SAT scores don't tell anything about who I
am, where I want to be, what I cherish in this world, what my
favorite fruit is.  Fact is...many colleges base their
decisions on this and another number -your GPA.
     I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
All I'm saying is...think about it next time you have ten
minutes to go in one of these tests, have made your marks
dark, and are trying not to become comatose.  Know that you
are nothing but a number, a percentile to some people.  And
protest.

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              fish and loathing in dystropia-
          the collectible and combustible prequel
     (Part One of the Dystropia/Cyberspace Crossover)

<created by midget caesar - written by dr. fig with the
aforementioned midget>


     Through the skies flew a saviour, a strong, brave man.
His 28.8 modem carried him with unbelievable speed, soaring
towards the troubled land of Dystropia, where he was much
needed.

He was summarily stopped for speeding, and when it was found
that he didn't have a Saviours License on him, he was brought
in and thrown in jail.

Meanwhile, Constantine, who may not fit the heroic archetype
but can cook a mean batch of brownies, was also headed in the
same direction. While waiting at a red light, he reached into
the glove department of his newly acquired 28.8 looking for
more lemon-scented wet tissues but found instead a somewhat
massive volume titled:

                 "The Pretty Okay Bible"

and subtitled

        "The Annals of the Second Church of Apathy,
               vol. # We're Not Really Sure"

Constantine, having nothing much better to do, switched the
cherry red 28.8 onto auto-pilot, relaxed his seat back, and
began to read.


    <from the annals of the second church of apathy,
    page number unknown because he scribe lost count>


  "The end is near. (okay, so it's just catching up, but
it'll be here soon) The recent, tumultuous <the word
tumultuous is thrown in here for no good reason> events have
resulted in the departure of Reality.

  "The frequent temper tantrums of Reality can be traced to
the fact that Reality has led a rather confined life. It
doesn't get out much. Reality has approximately infinity
<give or take a few> planes of existence to monitor,
which it must be admitted is a somewhat boring job. We had
hoped that the entire centuries that Reality periodically
takes off to catch up on the soaps would calm it down <As
advised in the critically acclaimed interdimensional best-
seller, "Raising Reality For Fun and Profit, by
Dr. J. E. Hovah>, but it has not.

  "We Apathetics have been entrusted with the task of taking
care of this.  Our secretary responded to the assignment of
this monumental task with a semi-awake "Uh huh, sure, OK."
Thus we are committed.

  "The Most Important Bureaucratic Person In Dystropia could
not really be bothered with the task of giving us the
details, so he sent his assistant T-Bone Kiwallayummies
instead.

  "He interrupted our current Head Person, Lou, while Lou was
engaged in our time-honored apathetic meditation handed down
through the ages known as taking a nap. By doing so, T-Bone
foolishly risked our most feared security device, utter
indifference. "Lou, we NEED you!", cried T-Bone in a nasal
yet passionate tone. Lou looked up from his meditation.

  ""Couldn't this have waited until AFTER the O.J. Simpson
trial is over?", asked Lou. T-Bone frantically jumped up and
down, screaming "LOU! Reality is on the run! The entire
universe may be destroyed!"

  ""Your point?", asked Lou with sincere puzzlement <most
understandably>.

  ""You people are supposed to help!"

  ""Yeah, yeah, all right." Lou rose from his bed
reluctantly, found his secretary, and asked her to please go
find the Heroic People Directory if she had a chance, please,
after she made his coffee. She hesitated a moment,
then agreed. Thus, did the search begin. After being turned
down by a well-dressed man known only as the Hunter, who said
something I forgot to record about killing some lamprey, and
a dirty looking man named Eric Tyler, who brushed us off with
some words that I cannot repeat here, and proceeded
to shoot three Apathetics in order to fill his quota of
grimness for the day.  We are now en route to Cyberspace. We
were flatly turned down by out-of-work Security Director
Angus McBrutal, who couldn't quite grasp the concept we
were putting before him. So we move on....."


Constantine looked up with a start as a green fish fell into
his lap.  He knew he had arrived at his destination.....

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         Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace, Part Six:
         We're Sure as F**K Not In Kansas, Anymore.
      (Part One of the Cyberspace/Dystropia Crossover)
                      by Constantine


  I knew I was in trouble when the fish hit my lap.  That,
and the fleet of Vortaglion Doomships, seeking the head of
Joey Lawrence, who pursued me until I got on the subspace
radio and assured them that I wasn't carrying any
unauthorized poptarts.
  The 28.8, a miracle of applied aerodynamics, coasted low
over the surface of Dystropia beneath a purple polka-dotted
sky.  I pulled up on the rudder as a chain of third-world
island nations below suddenly erupted in flame, a triumphant
cry of "Yahtzee!" filling the air.
  Flying over a vast city, I touched down in the middle of
the street, in front of the City Courthouse steps.
Tickertape and confetti littered the boulevard beneath a
banner that read "Dan Quayle for President".

  Reality had truly left.

  A tiny man covered in reams of crimson tape ran up to me
and pumped my hand vigorously.  "Mr.  Constantine!" he said,
"I'm T-Bone, the aide to the most important bureaucrat in
Dystropia.  The Apathetics told me that you would be arriving
shortly.  This is where it all started, you know."
  "The courthouse?"
  "Yes!  We think reality must still be inside, hiding under
a table.  Perhaps if you would have a heart-to-heart with the
lad...?"
  He followed right alongside me as I paced up the stairs to
the giant oaken doors, something about his voice grating in
my memory.
  "You look familiar," I said as I swung the door wide, "Have
you ever been in Cyberspace?"
  "Me?  Oh, no!  I never hop across the space-time continuum-
-it's bad for my ulcer.  Um...  After you?"
  "I don't think so."
  I picked him up by the collar and hurled him across the
threshold, where an invisible pocket of Paradox had been
lurking just behind the door.  T-Bone screamed in agony as he
was simultaneously inside the building and outside the
building, a paradox which the universe neatly and promptly
resolved by ripping him in half.
  The universe had a funny sense of humor about such things.
  "DAMN YOU!" screamed a voice of pure fury, booming from
barely-concealed speakers on the courthouse lawn.  I turned
to regard the empty street with a grin.
  "I can't see you, Milo, but I know you're watching."
  "You foiled my trap!" the speakers hissed, "How did you
KNOW?"
  "Easy," I said, "He said that the Apathetics told him that
I'd be here soon.  The Apathetics won't even notice I'm HERE
until next week, and even then they won't bother telling
anyone about it until they take a nice long nap.  What I want
to know is, what do you have to do with the disappearance of
Vito Hernandez?  You sent that goon to kill me in the
Telearena, didn't you?  I recognized his voice."
  "Very clever, but disposing of my right-hand man will do
you no good."
  "Why not?"
  "Because I'm left-handed."
  Dimensional gateways opened in a ring around the courthouse
steps, black voids of swirling darkness looming as Milo
roared with evil laughter.  It was a hideous, fiendish laugh,
one that would have chilled me to my very bones had he not
sounded so much like the kid in the Encyclopedia Brittannica
commercials.
  "You're in rare form," he said, "But soon you'll be well-
done."
  "What are you gonna do, kill me with bad puns?"
  As if in response, a battallion of ninja in night-black
cowls lept through the gateways, flashing an array of katanas
and staves as they circled me.
  "Ninjas?  That the best you can do?"
  "Not just ANY ninjas," Milo's voice chuckled, "These are
men and women from a dozen different schools of combat, at
all degrees of black belt expertise, from ten parallel
worlds.  They share only one thing in common."
  "What's that?"
  "A massive insecurity complex.  And there is nothing in the
universe so dangerous as a homicidal maniac with something to
prove.  I leave you to your death."
  As the speakers clicked off and the ninja squad moved in
for the kill, I realized I was in deep doo-doo.  I reached
into my trenchcoat pocket, drew my virus...

  ...and found a tiny purple fish in my hand.  Away from
Cyberspace, my weapons were rendered useless.

  Correction: REALLY deep doo-doo.


TO BE CONTINUED...
Watch for Fear and Loathing Part Seven:
James Earl Jones is a One-Man Army!

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                    Magic: The Addiction
                        by Malakai
     Well, here I am again <not on my knees!> and typing up a
file on my 286 because I don't want to plug up my other
computer. But anyway, I'm typing for a cause, to warn you all
about Magic: The Gathering, a new drug which is becoming
increasingly popular amungst the role playing/bbsing world in
general.  I, myself, because addicted the 1st week of Febuary
shortly after I purchased my first 'deck' <these are the
starters kits, suprisingly, they are not free> at Games Plus
in Mt. Prospect. I don't have much money, but a quarter of
what I get goes to Magic. This is an UNCONTROLLABLE urge, I
cannot understand it, I have heard rumors of a narcotic
substance coating the Magic cards which makes them highly
addictive, but at any rate, these are HIGHLY addictive.
     What is Magic, you ask? Well, don't be too surprised,
it's not an actual drug, what it is, is a card game, that's
right, an ADDICTIVE card game-- when's the last time you
heard about kids getting hooked on shit like "Go Fish" and
"Crazy 8's"?  Well, this isn't just your everyday AVERAGE
card game, this is a card game of combat, strategy <though I
still think more luck than strategy take the game in a lot of
places> and just general fun things. You are a wizard
<PRETEND-LIKE, you aren't really a wizard (if you are, hey, I
could use a flight spell or something) > and you fight
another wizard or wizards. To fight them you have your deck,
which is essentially your spellbook <I find almost all the
time, those with the most money have the best 'SPELL-BOOKS'
but they don't always win!> and in your spellbook are
monsters of all sorts, lands which you can leech mana from,
and enchantments, amungst other things! (but it's not a good
idea to mop the floor with Magic cards, as they hold ONLY
half of what 'Spectra-Mop' holds.. YES, i am watching an
Info-mercial on Channel 32 or whatever the fuck channel I'm
on.  MV50 is on also, but they always, ALWAYS have shitty
mus...  er.. on to the topic at hand) But if you need more
information on WHAT Magic is, write me/call me/call my board/
call the Obloid/etc...
     What's the point of it, you ask? Why, the point is
simple, beat the fuck out of the other wizard(s) and stay
alive yourself!  There are all sorts of variations, cards
which defy the rules, cards which make new rules, and just
cards in general, so this game can be EXTREMELY fun if you
are playing with the right person.  Some people like to toy
with thier victims and leave them at a low life point total
<both wizards usually start with 20 life and as they are
attacked by spells/creatures they go down gradually> and just
use spells on them that will basically make thier life hell
<but it's FUN, so do it (grin) > Other people <like merciful
ol' me> just slaughter the people as quick as they can <I
have a fast creature deck I use JUST for such a game> and not
spend much time at all playing with the other wizard(s).
     There are also variations to the actual game!  What
variations?! Well, a-ho-ho-ho, I will tell you!  <BTW, that
was SUPPOSED t'be a haughty laugh but it prob'ly looked like
I'm one of the 7 dwarves but ANYWAY> There's normal magic
<one on one> that's, well, ... normal! Then there's free-for-
all magic, where there's 3 or more players and they all have
to fight to be the LAST wizard alive <these games can be
ESPECIALLY fun> and of course, there's always my favorite
<and usually the longest to play> RAINBOW MAGIC!  Well, you
see, in Magic, there are 5 colors. White, Black, Red, Blue,
and Green.. each symbolizing different elements of things
<White = good, black = .. I'll let you GUESS, red = war/fire,
blue = mind/water, green = Mo' nacha'> and there are 5
players, each getting one color to play. Well, it's hard to
explain to non-Magic: The Junkies, so I won't.  Anyway, if
you can get a hold of a Starter Deck, do it!
     I will PERSONALLY help you learn how to play and learn
how to beat everyone <hell, if you're female maybe I'll
actually go to your house and show you> If you can get to any
Fantasy/Sci-Fi/RPG conventions, Magic: The Gathering is a HOT
seller and you can almost SURELY find a deck or 50 at one of
them <and if any of you want to learn more about these, ask
me, I'll give you some ideas> But anyway, this is <was>
Malakai, so I'll <shut up> talk to you <me> later.  Sorry,
that was an attempt at Mr.Subliminal... BYE!

     [Editor's Note:  As a participant at the Atlanta
DragonCon last month, I bore witness to entire GALLARIES
filled with Magic players, people with 6-inch-thick binders
full of cards, some poor schmuck offering $500 dollars for
a single rare card...
     ...I think we need a House Investigation Committee to
get on this, RIGHT NOW.  --Constantine]

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               A Selection of Short Stories
                       by Aquarius

-*-

The Magazine That Wasn't There

One day George went to a supermarket to see if they had a
magazine he liked.  They didn't.  George started to walk out
of the aisle but he was hit by a cement truck.   His
intestines dangled from the magazine rack.

-*-

The Answering Machine

Sue got home and checked her answering machine.  A message
from her mother.  She was supposed to call her.  Screw that.
Sue had sex with her answering machine instead.

-*-

True Love

Paul decided to stop by the florist and pick up a dozen roses
for his girlfriend on his way home from work.  When he got to
her place and presented them to her, she seemed very pleased!
Until she cut herself on one of the thorns.  It wasn't
serious, except that Paul didn't realize his girlfriend was a
hemophiliac.  His girlfriend died from blood loss in the
hospital.  Paul gave the roses to the nurse.


-*-

Mystical Orb of Purple

Martha enjoyed going to flea markets.  One day she met a
wizened old woman at a dirty, haggard booth.  A purple orb
was on the table.

"What is this?" said Martha.
"Ah!  The Mystical Orb!  This will give you a treasure beyond
your wildest dreams!  For it is magical!  Only 35 dollars, I
must sell it, for it must be passed on before I die." said
the old lady.
"Well, what does it do?" asked Martha.
"Ah, but I cannot tell you that.  Only The Bearer May Know."
the lady said eerily.
"Uh, ok, I'll take it." Martha decided.
"Here you go." said the lady as she wrapped it up. "Use it in
good faith!"

Martha got home and realized it was a bowling ball.

-*-

Timothy's Easter Surprise

Young Timothy awoke happily.  It was Easter Morning!  Timothy
ran downstairs, for he wanted to find where his Easter Basket
was hidden!  Timothy loved all the candy and other goodies he
got in it, especially jellybeans.  He searched around for a
while--behind chairs, underneath the piano, in the closets.
He finally found it underneath a desk.  But it wasn't what he
expected.  Instead of the chocolate bunny and assorted
candies, Timothy saw that a big, wet turd was the only thing
in it.

Timothy cried so loud that his father woke up and gave him a
beating.

-*-

The Boy That Only Played Video Games

Once there was a boy who did nothing but play video games.
He spent all his allowance at the local arcade.  Sometimes he
stole cartridge games from the store to play at home.  He did
badly in school and had no friends.  The only thing he did
right was send in the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes
entry.  Three months later, he won 10 million dollars.  He
used all the money to buy lots of video games and lived
happily ever after.  Everyone hated him.

-*-

Unique Pie

Jill had been saving her toenail clippings for 9 years.  When
she at last had enough, she baked a Toenail Pie.  After it
had cooled, she ate it.  Some of the toenail clippings got
stuck in her throat.  She started to choke but punched
herself in the stomach to dislodge the offending toenail
clipping.  It worked.  She finished the rest of the pie.

Later she had to go to the hospital because her tummy hurt.
The doctors realized that the toenail clippings were
scratching her intestine and also clogging it.

Two days later she died.

"In all my years of working here," said an old doctor, "that
was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

-*-

Lemonade Stand

Oliver was running a lemonade stand on a hot summer day.  Ten
cents a glass.  He had been selling pretty well.

Then a blind lady with a cane walked by the lemonade stand.

"Would you like some lemonade?" asked Oliver.
"Yes!  That sounds wonderful!  How much?" the lady replied.
"Only ten cents."
"Great!"

The lady gave Oliver a dime.  Since the lady was blind,
Oliver unzipped his fly and pissed into a cup.  He handed the
full cup to the lady.  She started to drink it but coughed
and spewed it all out.  Then she vomited in the street.
While she was bent over vomiting, Oliver ran away.

-*-

Justice

Detective Jenkins was getting fed up with this homicide case.
He had been searching for suspects and clues for over four
hours.  Finally, in a fit of boredom, Jenkins arrested a man
walking down the street.  He put the man's fingerprints all
over the murder weapon, a handgun.  All this time the man was
blabbing something about rights, but Jenkins wasn't
listening.

At the trial, Jenkins paid off the jury and denied everything
the man said.

Four months later, the man was executed.

"Another case solved." said Detective Jenkins.

-*-

The Long Sword

Molly was walking on the beach when she found a treasure map
on the sand.  She realized it led to a fortune beyond her
wildest dreams!  But then the sun exploded.  Everyone died.

-*-

The Lying Truth

Ralph hated visiting relatives.  His mom had dragged him to
this stupid family reunion.  He sulked in a corner.

His fat Uncle Riviera came up to him.

"Ralph.  What's wrong?  Why don't you socialize?  We don't
bite, you know!" said Uncle Riviera.

Ralph glared at him, but walked into the center of the room.
Everyone pounced on him and began biting chunks of flesh off
of him.

"Uh, I guess I was wrong." said Uncle Riviera as he chewed on
Ralph's finger.

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COMING SOON...

-- Part Two of the unbelievable, astounding, hyperbole-filled
   Fear and Loathing/Dystropia Crossover!  The action gets
   more intense, the verbage gets thicker, and our publicist
   throws himself out a window!

-- Sensationalism galore, designed as a desperate maneuver
   to titillate our audience while boosting our ratings back
   to Pre-Great-Crash popularity!  Hey, at least we're HONEST
   about it-- the TV stations call it "news".

-- And while we're at it, NOT ONE WORD about the O.J. Simpson
   trial!  Because, to be honest, we don't GIVE a damn!

-- Dare we promise the Def Mangoe interview and Nex's Tai
   Chi article?  Nah...

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                 D I S T R I B U T I O N


These are boards of distinction and taste-- after all, they
carry us.  You are a person of distinction and taste-- after
all, you read us.  Seeing as you have so much in common,
why not call 'em up?

And for letters, comments and rants, don't forget the
Propaganda Mailbox at Internet address PULETTERS@AOL.COM!

Board                        Phone
---------------------------  -----------------------------
Strangeways Asylum           (312) 588-4231 (Headquarters)
Legion of the Undead         (708) 546-4605
The Ice Palace               (708) 635-0953
MicroInformation Systems     (805) 251-0564
Big Bob's Leech Burger Farm  (708) 838-1015

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