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_____________________________________Summer96
"A Journal of Substance, Wit, and Dangerous Masturbatory
Habits"
See Ooze in Full-Color Splendor at http://www.io.com/~ooze/
Ooze Homepage - Skal liksom vre en humoristisk side. Mye av
det du finner her er direkte smaklost. Styr unna!
-http://www.sn.no/~tomjohan/kult.html
WELCOME TO THE ZIPPY COOL TEEN ISSUE
Hi! My name is Gayle! I'm 14, and I'm the new editor of of
Ooze Magazine! I live with my parents, my brother Toby, and
two cats named Fifi and Trixibelle, in a split level duplex
in Suffolk County (that's Long Island)! As you can see,
OOZE has gone through some big changes! I took out all that
gross humor stuff and put in interviews with my fave stars,
like Johnathan Taylor Thomas, David Faustino, and Bishop
Desmond Tutu! Coming up, we've planned a whole issue
dedicated to the best TV show ever, Saved By The Bell!
Mario Lopez might be dreamy, but I just loooove that cute
little Dustin Diamond! I mean, if Elizabeth Berkley can
take off her clothes in a movie, why can't Screech? It's
soooo unfair!
Y'know what else is unfair? That stoopid law that says I
can't see swear words on the internet! It's sooooo dumb! I
mean, I'm only 14 but but it's not like people don't
scream, "f--- you" at me all the time! Duhhhhhh! The
government is so retarded, I bet they all get driven to
work in little school busses!
I hear dorks on Rickki Lake saying a lot of kids are
getting kidnapped and sexually abused by people online and
stuff, but that's so untrue! I have a lot of pen pals who
are older than me, some of them are like really cool! One
guy called Marty lives in this really cool van with all
this red shag carpet and stuff and he connects to AOL on a
stolen cell phone!
Marty says he's only 20, but I don't really think that's
true. He's got all these way cool tattoos of like bleeding
skulls and bats and stuff he says he got in Singapore
during the war. What a nardo! There hasn't been a war in
like, 40 years so he's got to be older. But people who do
as much coke as Marty does are bound to be loopy! Anyway,
this is what was going through my head as he tied me up and
pushed me into a gross hole in the side of an old building
downtown.
Inside the hole, this really scummy guy who looked like the
Wolfman turned from a crusty computer monitor and stared at
me! His name was Herman, and he was the leader of a
world-wide network of the so-called "child molesters,
pornographers, and just plain threats to common decency"
the government's always talking about! He and Marty
kidnapped me, and wanted to sell me into something like
slavery. Whatever!
Besides the funky smell and and having to ask permission to
pee, staying in the hole wasn't so bad. Sure, they only paid
me minimum wage, but where else could I've got such a cool
afterschool job at fourteen? Now they hire me out with lots
of other kids to code web pages! We just know computers
better than stupid adults and we work cheap! Anyway, that's
how I got the job editing this magazine. Plus those "tricks"
Marty taught me from his years in the Far East seem to keep
those boys very happy!
So Hip Teens, I hope you enjoy our new version of OOZE!
After all the changes the magazine went through, I decided
to go in for some big changes myself! This summer, Mom's
taking me to her plastic surgeon for my very first nose
job! I really like Courtney Cox's nose, so I'm bringing a
picture to show the surgeon what to do! I can hardly wait,
because Mom says if this goes well, for my 18th birthday I
can have my breasts enlarged! Radical!
I gotta run to a 3:00 liposuction before cheerleading class!
Stay cool! Ride the pork chop!
Gayle
---
STAFF-O-RAMA
Staff: Matt Patterson (drbubonic@aol.com) Ed Schmidt
(Caligua@aol.com) Zak Weisfeld (Zakkkk@aol.com) M.J. Loheed
(Spoot1@aol.com) Nubba the Quintuple Editor (Nubba@aol.com)
Gabe Wardell (we haven't heard from him in 6 years, but saw
he contributed to Film Threat magazine) Shane
(CptNoitAll@aol.com) Whitney Fitzgerald (Whifitz@aol.com)
Big Jim O'Donnel (Jimmod@aol.com) Joe Wagner (doesn't own a
computer)
Ooze is copyright 1996 by Matt Patterson. Individual
articles are copyrighted by their respective authors. We
reserve the right to edit any correspondence sent to us.
Don't steal text or art and claim it as your own. Contact
me BEFORE you rip us off. Everyone and everything mentioned
in this issue is not real. Ooze has a circulation of
5,314,203,666. It is free. Pass it along, upload it to your
favorite BBS, print up full-color hard copies and give them
to the homeless, just give us a significant cut of the
profits. If you post individual articles to other
newsgroups and stuff, mention it's from Ooze, and post the
sacred e-mail address (drbubonic@aol.com) and/or URL
(http://www.io.com/~ooze).
Ads are available (surprise!) for any edition of Ooze (WWW,
text, or application versions) at reasonable prices. We Sell
Out To The Man For Cheap!
See the end of this document for more details on
subscribing and making contributions. E-mail
drbubonic@aol.com for more details, hate mail,
subscriptions, and pottery.
---
AM I NORMAL?
Do you think you're a freak of nature? Are you afraid to
take a shower with the other students after gym class
because of your grossly misshapen anatomy?
All the confusion and changes that occur during adolescence
cause tons of teens to worry if what's happening to them is
normal. Most of the time it is, but sometimes it's not.
We've taken the time to answer some questions our readers
have asked us.
Stacy@pimenet.com writes, "I get these funny black hairs
around my lips. I hate them. Is this normal, or am I doomed
to grow a full beard? I think they make me look like John
Waters."
Unfortunately, the answer is yes, you're doomed. Contrary
to what Europeans and lesbians may think, girls aren't
supposed to have hair anywhere on their bodies other than
the top of their heads and a wispy strip down the middle of
the pubic area. If you experience any other growth you may
possibly have a life-threatening hormonal imbalance. Check
your temperature while you stare at a copy of Penthouse
magazine. If your temperature rises, seek medical attention
immediately.
bobbie@aol.com asks, "When I go to the bathroom, my urine
is this awful yellowish color. My friend was sitting in the
bathroom stall with me doing her make-up when she saw me get
up from a yellow-tinged toilet bowl. She made a fuss over it
and now everyone calls me 'Yellow Pee'. I am totally
embarrassed and am afraid to show my face at school. My mom
says that yellow urine is totally o.k., but I don't believe
her because she's a Mormon. Am I normal?"
No. Urine that is yellowish in hue is directly attributable
to the consumption of foods or liquids that are yellow:
bananas, wax beans, and Chinese take-out. Stay away from
these at all costs. Most people your age excrete about 2
pints of distinct blue-green liquid soon after a meal. If
you continue to urinate yellow for more than two weeks, try
looser-fitting undergarments or soaking in a pool for 45
minutes. If another week goes by and it continues, see a
doctor or physician.
tootie@iz.netcom.com writes, "I masturbate two, three,
sometimes as much as five times a week. Sometimes I can't
think of anything but sex. Is this normal for the average
16 year old?"
Absolutely not. Girls your age should be thinking about the
prom, cheerleading, and homemaking. You shouldn't even know
how to say the word 'sex' much less be practicing it (even
if it's only on yourself.) You may be suffering from a wide
variety of ailments including--but not limited
to--distemper, diphtheria, malodorous fumigation, and/or
rheumatic fever. I recommend you tie your hands behind your
back before you go to sleep and have someone in the family
stay in your room with a hickory switch to make sure you
don't continue this vile habit.
reena@ios.com writes, "I recently found two lumps on my
bosom. I am worried that this could be something serious. I
am 40 years old. Is this normal, or do I have cancer?"
Of course it's normal, silly girl. Those two lumps on your
chest are your breasts! A girl your age goes through many
changes, including your first period, a sudden interest in
boys, strange new hair, and the swelling of your chest.
Boy, are you dumb!
Christine Devine, M.D. is a medical doctor who did not
write this article.
---
ALTERED STATES
by cptnoitall@aol.com
I heard somewhere that staying awake for 3 or more days
would make you hallucinate like you were on drugs, but
without the nasty side effects like addiction and heart
attacks. I had to try it. For scientific purposes ONLY, I
decided to stay up as long as I could (I was hoping for at
least 3 days) and document it.
So I waited until spring break rolled around and then I
armed myself with caffeine and chocolate. This is the
journal I kept:
Day 1: This day went smoothly. I made sure I drank lots of
caffeine and I invited a friend over to keep vigil on me
through out the night. Late night TV like Jerry Springer
helped pass the time. You can't beat a good white trash
fight. I got sleepy early the next morning but the the sun
came up so we went outside and stuff.
Day 2: The day went by quickly until about 7 o'clock that
night. Then it hit. The twitching started; small but
noticeable. I also caught myself drooling from time to
time. The night was a tough one but lots of porn and
Cheetos helped pull me through. I thought I was going to
make it.
Day 3: All right, time for the fun to start. I couldn't
wait. But then unexpected thing started to happen. I would
sit down on the couch for some good quality TV time and the
next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the fridge
with the door wide open. Cool. While I was there I consumed
some more caffeine. Then I made my way over to the computer.
Surely a good game would help out. I was chugging along on
some game and then BAM! I'm sitting on the toilet with my
pants down. HHmmm...not as fun as the fridge but it was
kind of neat. This happened through out the day and then
night came.
I won't say much because it still frightens me, but these
horrible little "sleep goblins" came and attacked me with
their little wands or whatever. I was out like a light.
Day 4: I woke up at 2 in the afternoon. Damn! All that work
and I was only magically transported around the house (I
think I just sleep walked a little bit) and then I'm
attacked by goblins. I wanted to see naked chicks and
stuff, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.
CONCLUSION: It was a vastly entertaining experience and
gave me a slight buzz for the next several days. More
experimentation is necessary before any final conclusions
can be drawn, but I would highly recommend that any
enterprising student of science try this for themselves.
---
STAYEE-FREE MEGA PADS: AN ADVERTISEMENT
I was so excited! That magical day every girl looks forward
to had finally arrived! It happened right after gym class,
when my best friend Debbie and I were changing before our
4th period English class.
"I didn't know you wore tie-dyed underwear, Martha!" Debbie
squealed. Uh-oh. I peered down fearfully. It looked like the
4th of July in my panties.
"Oh my God! I'm not a little girl anymore!" I shouted, my
twin baby-mumps swollen with pride. "But how can I go to
English looking like a poorly colored Easter egg?"
"Don't worry, I'm prepared!" Debbie was always ready for
the worst. She pulled a long, cigar-shaped object out of
her purse and handed it to me. "It's a tampon!" Just then
Ms Loussa, our gym teacher, walked into the locker room.
"What's going on in here?" Ms. Loussa paused and took a
deep breath. I can only imagine what she thought was going
on. Stained skivvies around my ankles, blood coursing down
my inner thighs. Had Freddy Krueger scrubbed me without a
loofah? Did I drop a plate of Spaghettio-s down my lap?
Debbie was quick to break the silence.
"Martha got her first monthly visitor and I was giving her
a tampon!"
"But Ms Loussa, I've never put anything up there before!
Won't that steal away my precious virginity?"
Debbie protested, "No way! Only a boy can do that, right Ms
Loussa?" Ms Loussa was very wise. She'd been a gym teacher
for many years and had obviously seen the same scene
replayed a thousand times.
"When I was young, like you girls, I thought that a tampon
was the best way to ride a crimson tide. But I was wrong. A
simple tampon can spoil you. Sure, it was convenient and
didn't leave an embarrassing bulge in my shorts, but its
wanton use changed me. I may have technically been a
virgin, but once those floodgates opened, I couldn't stop
filling up my holy temple. First I used small tampons, then
medium ones, then the big heavy flow ones...even when I
wasn't having my period! And it didn't stop there! Candles,
turkey basters, curling irons, 2 liter soda bottles,
eggplant...even a small armadillo found its way into my
unsated sugar walls. And when it finally came time to find
a boyfriend, there just wasn't any room. Besides, no one
would have had ol' 'Loose Loussa' anyway. All because I
used a tampon."
We sat there silently, slowly realizing the road of
depravity we had almost taken. Debbie looked into Ms
Loussa's sad, tired eyes and said, "Thanks. I didn't know."
"Now you do." She tossed Debbie one of those Stayee-free
Megapads you can buy in the girls room for a nickel.
Suddenly the other gym teacher, Ms Boora, peered around the
corner. I heard a faint humming sound from something
mechanical. A smile widened on Ms Loussa's wizened face.
"Girls, I have to go." As she left the locker room, I
picked up the Stayee-Free MegaPad, unpeeled the sticky
paper off the back, and knew what had to be done. I was a
woman now. And a pure woman at that.
---
TEEN SPOTLIGHT ON POLITICS!!!
-nubba@aol.com
Boys like a girl who's smart. Not smarter than them, of
course, but still smart. If you want to dazzle the man of
your dreams with your intelligence, especially in this
election year, here's what you need to know to win the
campaign for his heart!
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: Right now, Bill Clinton is the President
of the United States.
RELATED FACT YOU SHOULD IMMEDIATELY FOLLOW-UP WITH SO THAT
HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: "Weird Al" Yankovic is
the Vice-President of the United States.
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: Bob Dole wants to be the new President
of the United States.
RELATED FACT SO HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: For
thirty-five years, Bob Dole was a leading force in the
PINEAPPLE INDUSTRY.
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: Each candidate is the representative of
a "party" which advocates certain political beliefs.
RELATED FACT SO HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: In this
year's election there will be a representative from the
Democratic Party, the Republican Party and "Party Of Five".
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: The Presidential election is held every
four years in November.
RELATED FACT SO HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: Old men
can only get it up every four years around November.
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: The President lives in the White House.
RELATED FACT SO HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: The
White House is in SEATTLE, the nation's capital.
GOOD FACT TO KNOW: The candidates for President
traditionally debate each other on national television
several times before election day.
RELATED FACT SO HE DOESN'T THINK YOU'RE TOO SMART: One of
the many topics which they will assuredly cover this
election year is THE SHOCKING SEASON FINALE OF BEVERLY
HILLS 90210.
NEXT MONTH: Teen Spotlight on - ELECTROCHEMICAL
ENGINEERING!!
---
T-SHIRT DESIGNS FOR REFORMED BIGGOTS
I (heart) Niggers!
I Go 4 Gooks!
I Like Kikes!
Spics Aren't Lazy (They Just Need Love!)
Faggots And Me Both Like It From Behind
Up With Retards!
Chinks Don't Stinks!
I (club) Baby Seals!
---
TEEN IDOLS IN HISTORY
-Eddie Schmidt (caligula@aol.com)
Thought you learned a lot in all those history classes? The
dates of the Civil War, insights into Nixon's relationship
with China, blah blah. Fine. But do you really know your
history makers? Can you comprehend how these men and women
made young hearts swoon? Why their rhetoric and deeds led
to fruitless crushes and 8x10 posters in high school
lockers?
We here at OOZE, in the continuing quest for journalistic
integrity, dug up a huge, moldy stack of periodicals from
a time long past(even going to microfiche for some of the
Old Testament stuff) in order to find out just how- HOT -
these newsmakers were in their day. You'll be surprised
at the data we dug up.
Abraham Lincoln
NICKNAMES: Honest Abe, Honest Hebe, Stinky Linky
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: A night at the theater--no
interruptions--
FAVORITE BOOK: Benjamin Franklin's "Private Parts"
WHAT WE MIGHT FIND IN HIS WALLET: Four score and twenty
condoms.
WISH FOR THE FUTURE: "Shave beard, grow mustache, don
eyeglasses and record song parody of 'Star Spangled Banner'
entitled 'Star Spangled Banana'".
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "Even if he doesn't free the
slaves, he can still free me!" (Ebony)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Somewhere between Corey Feldman
and Professor Irwin Corey.
Genghis Khan
NICKNAMES: The Genguin, Genghis Fungus, Khan Artist
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Gorging on free buffet while
his enemies slice each other apart with swords
FAVORITE SONG: "Chopsticks"
WISH FOR THE FUTURE: Hot bath and a pedicure
WHAT WE MIGHT FIND IN HIS WALLET: Someone's finger
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "He can slay my village any
day" (Sassy), "The sexiest savage alive" (People),
"No match for Ricardo Montalban" (Starlog)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Not quite Antonio Banderas;
hunkier than Jackie Chan
Jesus Christ
NICKNAMES: Jeez, Gee Whiz!, Christ-o-Rama-yo-Mama
FAVORITE COLOR: Brown balsa wood with turpentine finish
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Mary Magdalene in a thong bikini
FAVORITE SONG: "Spirit In The Sky", Norman Greenbaum
PET PEEVE: Stigmatas, thorns
RECURRING DREAM: "I'm sliding down a pink waterfall and
chosen to save mankind from sin. Then I turn into a giant
waffle and float over Yankee Stadium."
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "He and his Father are both
hunky!" (Tiger Beat)
"He's the savior, all right...the savior of my lap!" (BOP)
"Easily kicks Moses' ass" (Spy)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Miles above today's heathen
competition
Betsy Ross
NICKNAMES: Backroom Bets, Betsy Wetsy, Ross Hogg
FAVORITE COLOR: Red, white, and blue, red, white, and blue,
red, white, and...
HER IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Rumpy pumpy with John Quincy
Adams underneath the desk where they signed the Declaration
of Independence
FAVORITE BOOK: "Men Are From New Hampshire, Women Are From
Delaware"
OPINIONS OF HER IN HER DAY: "Her knit's da shit" (Vibe),
"Sew what?" (Sassy), "Ms. Ross' performance as 'Marion'
in the TV series 'Happy Days' is a
welcome change from past roles" (Vincent Canby; NY Times)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Two rungs above Liz Phair, a
rung below Lisa Kudrow
Mozart
NICKNAMES: Wolfgangbang, Mozart Garfunkel, Bodacious Amadeus
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: A naked woman on top of a naked
piano,holding a naked monkey
FAVORITE SONG: "Rock Me Amadeus", Falco
WHAT WE MIGHT FIND IN HIS WALLET: Incriminating Polaroids
of Faranelli and a donkey.
PET PEEVE: Arnold Schwartzeneger
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "I don't eat meat, but I'll
make an exception for his Vienna sausage!" (Sassy),
"Alternative rocker sells out" (SPIN)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Comparable to Macaulay Culkin,
if he still had a career.
Sigmund Freud
NICKNAMES: Sig Newton, Sigmund The Sea Monster, Pink Freud
FAVORITE COLOR: Well-formed ink blot
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Mutual confession on leather
couches followed by a midnight touching of the beard.
FAVORITE SONG: "Obsession" , "Animotion"
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "Dreamy little round glasses!"
(Tiger Beat), "My desires for him are obviously the
result of a distant father figure." (Vanity Fair), "Went
corporate after the whole id thing" (SPIN)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: Seinfeld, without the jokes
Mona Lisa
NICKNAMES: Mone Alone, Mona Leeza Gibbons, Mona Lisa And
Cult Jam
HER IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Sitting still for days, weeks,
and months on end.
WISH FOR THE FUTURE: If DaVinci would invent some eye drops
to fix that annoying stare.
SECRET CRUSH: Fabio
OPINIONS OF HER IN HER DAY: "Skinny little ho" (Sassy) "Not
exactly what her image suggests" (Vanity Fair), "Just another
girl who slept her way inside a picture frame" (Ms.)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: The original supermodel
King Tut
NICKNAMES: Burger King, Pizza Tut, Beavis And Tutthead
FAVE PIECE OF CLOTHING: Gold headdress by Stussy
HIS IDEA OF A PERFECT DATE: Cruise along the Nile in a
barge,throwing empty beer cans at his slaves.
FAVORITE SONG: N/A; but "would like to kill that Steve
Martin guy"
OPINIONS OF HIM IN HIS DAY: "Foxy 'Pharaoh' Slays Weekend
BO" (Daily Variety) "If there's grass on the infield, it's
time to play ball!" (Writing on bathroom wall; ancient
Cairo)
CURRENT HEARTTHROB RATING: John F. Kennedy, Jr., anyone?
---
AARON BURR BEER
I'm Walter Hudson for Aaron Burr Brewery. Right now, my 11
year-old son and I are enjoying a bottle of my new Honey
Mushroom Lager.
First brewed in the 17th century by Franciscan monks on a
remote island in the Adriatic, this Lager was a popular
drink among people too poor to notice it tasted awful. To
make the Lager, these monks would seduce shipwrecked
sailors who found their way onto their rocky shores and
drag them down to the monastery cellars. There, they would
hang these hapless seamen by their ankles for a little over
six months. All the while, the crafty monks would flagellate
their victims slowly and painfully, collecting their copious
drippings in a seaweed basket. After removing the big pieces
of flesh that are often difficult to digest, they'd churn
this fluid into the hearty brew we still drink today.
People ask me why we call this cool, rich tasting drink
"Honey Mushroom Lager" when there are no mushrooms or honey
in it. I say it's because no one would want to buy Bloody
Dead Sailor Beer.
Now Timmy, finish your cool, refreshing Aaron Burr's Honey
Mushroom Lager and get your little butt down to the cellar!
Aaron Burr Beer- Available at supermarkets everywhere.
---
DATE WITH AN ANGEL
-zakkkk@aol.com
Exodus 33:31
Then the LORD opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the
angel of the LORD standing in the way, and his sword drawn
in his hand: and he bowed down his head, and fell flat on
his face.
Angels like to get going pretty early. By ten on an
overcast, but hardly apocalyptic, Saturday morning the
sixth floor of the Candy Factory in Knoxville has undergone
an angelic transformation. A formerly staid gallery space
and conference area has become a full-blown Angel Day arena.
20 vendors from around the southeast dispense a full array
of angelic merchandise. There are angel t-shirts, angel
tapes, angel paintings, angel magazines, angel post-cards,
angel candles, angel lotions, angel books, and all
different shapes and sizes of angels; wax, ceramic, wooden,
corn husk.
In the corner, a snack bar has miraculously become the
Angel Cafe, where one can dine on angel biscuits (with or
without sausage), angel hair pasta (with or without
meatballs) and angel cake. Clearly, angel's diets are not
constrained by the FDA's food pyramid recommendations
concerning fruits and vegetables.
Though this is only Knoxville's First Annual Angel Day, the
angel phenomenon is national trend. Books on angels and
angelic experiences have sold more than five million copies
in the last several years. A recent poll has revealed that
sixty-nine percent of Americans believe in the existence of
the winged minions of the Lord. 1996 alone saw the opening
of more than three-hundred and fifty specialty stores and
catalog merchants that deal almost solely with angel-themed
products.
And though the mercantile aspects of Angel Day dominates
the sixth floor, the seventh concerns itself with rather
more serious consideration of angels and their doings. In a
room at the rear of the floor, a brick walled, flourescently
lit chamber with a sign on the wall reading Angel Workshops.
This is Phyllis Ransom's room.
Ransom is an Angelologist.
"An angelologist," says Ransom, "is a person that studies
all about the philosophy of angels. They study the ancient
texts. They make their occupation and their livelihood
studying angels."
Phyllys Crowe Ransom is a handsome woman. Middle-aged, with
a strong, angular nose and red hair tending towards brown.
And, like many of the more serious Angel Day players,
Phyllys reveals a sartorial preference for white and gold,
as evidenced by her white blouse flecked with veins of gold
and white stirrup pants tied with a gold and white rope. On
her very dainty feet are golden slippers.
Matthew 13:41 The Son of man shall send forth his angels,
and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that
offend, and them which do iniquity; and shall cast them
into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing
of teeth.
Angels, or the belief in them has been around for a long
time. All three of the main western monotheistic religions
describe angels. In Exodus the lord sends an angel before
him to, "...drive out the Canaanite, the Amorite, and the
Hittite, and the Perizzite, the Hivite, and the Jebusite."
In Islam, angels are known as Malaa'ika which means
messenger or envoy.
The Koran also describes four angels for each person who
are there to record their actions -- two record good deeds
and two record evil. Christianity too is rife with angels
though for many years the Protestant churches and
conservative post-Vatican II Catholicism played down their
role in the Christian cosmology. But make no mistake,
angels are back.
The first seminar of the day is called Angels Unaware, an
intro to angels for those of us just getting acquainted
with the phenomenon. Phyllys sets up an easel holding a
large, Ross Perot-style flip chart. There are chairs for
about forty people but only seven, including myself,
arrive. Like the rest of Angel Day, the participants in the
workshop are, with two exceptions, women.
We spend the first part of the workshop doing
getting-to-know-you exercises. We pair off, but since
everyone else came in with another person, I'm left in the
old schoolyard dilemma and end up being picked by the
teacher. Phyllys and I sit facing each other and take turns
issuing the command, "Tell me something I should know about
you." To which the interrogated one answers, "Something you
should know about me is..."
The exchange is sealed by the interrogator pronouncing the
words, "Thank you." Phyllys, as she does with everything,
encourages me to answer and thanks me with great sincerity.
And then we begin to talk about angels.
Abashed by the good faith of the rest of the group I admit
my skepticism. My nervousness is eased by Phyllys who tells
us, "Angels love skeptics because they're just as important
and valuable as everyone else." Which may be one of the
nicest things anyone has ever said about skeptics.
During the workshop we learn that angels are great
facilitators, they are helpful, they are caring and they
can be gotten in touch with through meditation. We practice
this, closing our eyes and listening to Phyllys' very
soothing voice as she instructs us to breath and visualize
various colored lights enwrapping our feet, our legs, our
abdomens, heads, etc.
At the end of the meditation, she tells us, we should
expect to receive either a name or a few letters; letters
which will eventually, upon repeated mediations, grow
Ouiji-like into the name of our guardian angel. Several
women get names, one gets the letter G which could mean
she's drawn the archangel Gabriel from the angel grab bag.
Despite the angel's great love of skeptics, the exercise
gets me very relaxed but fails to raise even a cosmic dial
tone.
Genesis 16:7 And the angel of the LORD found her by a
fountain of water in the wilderness, by the fountain in the
way to Shur.
Much of the workshop is spent discussing the dramatic
rescue of a Down's syndrome child that took place earlier
in the week. The child had been lost in the Smokie
Mountains overnight in sub-freezing temperature. In the
morning, rescuers were led to the child by the barking of
two dogs. He was found alive and in good health.
The child's rescue is described as a miracle and the dogs
are imputed to be transmogrified angels (angels are able,
like the Greek gods, to take on any form they wish). This
clear and heartening evidence of angelic intervention is
muddled, just slightly, by the information one woman
provides that it was the dogs that led the child away from
his parents to begin with. No one's faith is shaken,
however. It is obvious to all that the child's survival and
rescue could only have been the work of angels.
This conundrum is a recurrent problem not just with angels,
but with any theology that imputes a benevolent cosmic
power. Guardian angels, though not at the top of the
overall angel scheme, are the ones with whom humans have
the most contact. As the name implies, guardian angels are
an angel assigned to each of us (and some would say animals
as well) at birth, like a social security number. One's
guardian angels stays for life, ostensibly protecting the
guarded one from harm.
After listening to a number of angel stories it became
obvious that guardian angel is a misnomer. These angels
don't seem to keep us out of trouble. The guardian angel
isn't a prophylactic against the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune. Instead, they are there to help us once
the trouble starts -- preventing us from going through the
windshield when we drive our car into a post, or saving us
when the cancer cells, described as unstoppable by the
specialist, are running riot through our lymphatic systems.
Like the capricious god whom they serve, the capriciousness
of angels receives a dispensation from those who believe in
them. If bad things happen it is so that we can learn. "The
earth," Phyllys tells us, "is a kind of school for us to
evolve."
The tautological (and often selfish) reasoning behind
angelic intervention is best summed up by something Phyllys
mentions in the Angels Unaware workshop, "Special needs
children are here to teach unconditional love."
Which is all well and good for those of us doing the
learning, but what about the poor bastards who have to
teach us the lessons -- where are their guardian angels?
Revelation 8:22
And I saw the seven angels which stood before God; and to
them were given seven trumpets.
The other workshop of the day is called, "Exploring the
World of Angels." It begins with a brief lesson in angel
morphology. There are, according to Phyllys, three
different spheres of angels. The first sphere consists of
Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones; the second of Dominions,
Virtues and Powers; in the third reside the big boys, the
Principalities (otherwise known as guardian angels), Angels
and Arch-Angels.
While we didn't get down to how many angels can dance on
the head of pin it becomes apparent that whoever's
considering the experiment should have a pretty big pin.
There are millions of angels and their job descriptions
vary considerably. Some of them simply flit around the
throne of god, casting a cheerful light and being
worshipful. Other angels -- Angels and Arch-Angels
particularly -- are given much more autonomy and interact
mostly with the earth and its most peculiar denizens,
people.
In addition to guardian angels for every man, woman and
child there are environmental angels (who, apparently, are
unable to vote) angels of music, healing arts, teaching and
technology. Not to mention angels of business, whose
self-promotion department must really be booming.
Marti Martin, of the Angel Emporium in Atlanta, is one of
the vendors experiencing Knoxville's first Angel Day.
"The angel market's still growing," Marti says with a
knowing smile, waving a hand at the other vendors. Her
table sells handmade angels, Angels of Friendship with
rhyming cards attached, Silver and Golden Anniversary
Angels, a host of occasion specific cosmic servants.
"People all over the world are searching for a peace and a
happiness. And more and more people are beginning to believe
in the guardian angels. The angel market is certainly
growing, up into the billions by now worldwide," Marti says.
But how do the angels feel about their recent, and
expanding, commodification?
"Angels love to help business succeed," says Ransom.
"Angels are about bringing order to our lives and the
world. Angels can help business by giving us the ability to
harmonate the incongruencies in the way we run a business."
Revelations 8:13 Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the
earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the
three angels, which are yet to sound!
Today's angels have mellowed quite a bit from their
Biblical forebears. No more flaming swords or quaking
shepherds, angels today are care givers, facilitators, here
to help us communicate better with each other and with
ourselves.
Even the Angel of Death has discarded his dark robe for a
nice white suit and comes with a retinue of helper angels
to ease the passage from world of the flesh to the eternal
mall in the sky. What's better, according to Ransom, is
that, "He can be talked out of it." Apparently, the 90's
Angel of Death is one hell of a salesmen.
And the explanation for this softening?
"Angels are very much reflections of where we're at. And we
were very tough, very hard," says Ransom, "ancient rules,
eye for an eye, and our experiences of angels are created
by who we are." Plus, the 600 foot tall, four eyed,
multi-winged angels with the flaming swords are hard to fit
comfortably in the back of an Explorer.
Still, the question is not so much why angels, which have
been worshiped for centuries by many different cultures, as
why now?
"The world as we know it is changing very rapidly. The
normal structures are no longer there" Phyllys explains,
echoing the sentiment of many a presidential candidate.
"And when everything sticks out around us we suddenly
realize that we need to go deeper and find something else.
You're not just a physical being, but a spiritual being as
well."
Others, however, disagree. Anne Simpkins, of the Unity
Church and one of the event's organizers provides the other
accepted angel argument, "There's not more angel activity,
just more reporting of it."
Now, facing a calendrical odometer rolling implacably
towards a new millennia, people are feeling more
comfortable letting it all hang out. Whether the world is
really any more chaotic now than it ever was is another
question entirely. What's undeniable is that people think
that it is.
This is bad when it means Patrick Buchanan can be
considered a semi-serious presidential candidate. But what
about when it means believing there's a benevolent cosmic
force attending to our fears and insecurities?
Throwing restraint to the winds, we're indulging ourselves
with confessions and daydreams -- of angelic intervention,
alien abduction, government conspiracy -- calling out in
the lowering darkness like a man revealing his love to a
seatmate on a 767 with both engines flamed out. Which, when
the plane lands safely may seem silly, and even a little
embarrassing, but hardly disastrous.
As Phyllys Ransom put it, "We just go from one extreme to
the other and then we find a balanced perspective. Whatever
is real will last and whatever is false will fall away."
A Thirtieth Annual Angel Day, anyone?
---
Fashion Tips for the Very Poor
Being peniless doesn't mean you have to dress without
style. A smart girl finds high fashion lurking in any pile
of cast-offs. With a little pluckishness, hard work, and
the keen advice of Ooze, you'll be the envy of every kid on
the block!
Two scrap 2 x 4s, available at any construction site, can
be transformed into a pair of hip, 70s-style clogs with
only a sharp knife, wood glue, and some heavy twine. The
ultimate in platform shoes!
Chrome bumpers, split around the corners and accompanied by
a lawnmower grass pouch, can approximate that "tiny silver
backpack" thing that's really hot with the baby t-shirt and
barrette set.
Like the cool, "keys on a janitor's chain" look that's so
popular with the club kids? Any metal gate, cut apart with
a hacksaw can be wound to your jeans to create that
"workingman's" look for a bargain price. If all the metal
gates near your house are electrical, try shorting the
circuit with your kid brother!
Old toothpaste caps, cut in half and glued to your gums
with epoxy, can cover up any embarrassing gaps in your
smile caused by rotting teeth!
Large plastic garbage bags can be cut into a variety of
snug fitting and sexy dresses for all occasions! Just make
sure to make airholes in the bag so you don't smell like a
sweaty pig!
Gangrenous sores threatening to ruin your prom? A healthy
dose of colored electrical tape can cover them up in
minutes. Tell your friends you are wearing red tape to
signify your support for AIDS victims. They'll be so
impressed with your social awareness, they won't notice any
tell-tale rotting!
Think of yourself as "Mr. Retro" but don't have the wallet
to back up the claim? Create your own JAMS, those colorful
Bermuda shorts from the Reagan era, by duct taping rotting
vegetables to your thighs! Look out, Spuds McKenzie!
Proud of your African heritage but too unskilled to weave a
multi-colored tapestry? Old bath towels, even those with
"Roger Rabbit" and "Pee Wee's Playhouse" insignias, can be
cut into great African daishikis!
Live in a shanty-town with no services? A fully-juiced car
battery can provide up to two hours of electrical power for
your curling iron!
Professional tattoos are expensive, and homemade ones make
you look like you've spent a lot of time in jail. Now you
can mutilate your skin the discount way! Clods of dirt,
colorful industrial chemicals, and hunks of hot tar fresh
off the summer street can be mixed together and seared into
human flesh to create exciting designs!
Want to look smart, but can't afford eyeglasses? Discarded
jelly jars, held together by a wire clothes hanger can make
even the biggest dullard look like an instant Pointdexter!
If you have any tips you'd like to share, e-mail
drbubonic@aol.com with the details and enter to win a free
brick which can be used to stuff your bra!
-drbubonic & caligula
---
DANGEROUS MASTURBATORY HABITS
-M.J. Loheed (spoot1@aol.com)
additional research -Steve Benaquist (too poor to be online)
Since Ooze is the Journal of Substance, Wit, and Dangerous
Masturbatory Habits, our readership is on the cutting edge
of sexual expression, and demands to be kept abreast of the
latest autoerotic techniques. Understanding that need, we've
culled some new and potentially lethal solo practices from a
number of confidential police, emergency room, and dental
records. Remember- Safe sex is for the weak.
AUTO EROTIC ASS FIXATION
Subjects who engage in this habit will start their cars in
neutral and affix their anus over the hot tail pipe so the
vibrating muffler will stimulate the prostate. This
fixation is not without hazard and can result in severe
rectal burns or, in extreme cases, cause the sphincter to
be cauterized and sealed to the tail pipe. In these cases,
the subject's intestines can slowly inflate until the
entire gastrointestinal system is evacuated through the
mouth, although this is rare.
This habit first gained national media attention when a pit
mechanic of Mario Andretti's thought he could sneak in a
little action before the Indianapolis 500. For over 40 laps
no one noticed the hapless mechanic being dragged behind the
car as it topped 240 mph! As he was being put into the
ambulance he was heard to mumble: "It felt pretty good
until I had an orgasm. Then I just wanted to stop and have
a nice cappuccino." Andretti went on to win regardless.
TIP: For an automotive thrill on a cold night, try giving
yourself an anti-freeze enema!
HOT DOGGIN'
The modern working woman barely has time to sleep, much
less enjoy a short session of self pleasuring. A clever
woman, however, can simultaneously get her dinner and still
get off. "Hot Doggers", working over a hot stove with an
aluminum pot, will stand on the stove, hike up their
skirts, and position themselves over the burner. Then they
will carefully insert the pan's aluminum handle inside
their vaginas until both they and their dinner shoot past
the boiling point.
AP reported a story in 1991 about Mrs. Flozzy Krebbs of
Wilmington, DE who became the first known victim of this
practice. Rescue workers responding to a 911 call found
Mrs. Krebbs bloated corpse lying on the kitchen floor with
a totally discharged CO2 fire extinguisher at her side. Her
lower abdomen was covered with extensive third degree burns.
EMT's were puzzled, but the autopsy revealed she had
suffocated from the internal application of CO2 after her
pubic area caught on fire. A chemical or water extinguisher
would have been a wiser precaution.
TIP:Try this method while cooking popcorn.
WHISKEY CAT RAPE
A peculiar off-shoot of more common bestiality, this
practice involves force feeding cheap blended scotch to a
cat and sodomizing it as its anus becomes relaxed.
Unfortunately, subjects rarely remember to declaw or bind
the animals leading to lacerated testicles, glans, or shaft
which can require stitches and uncomfortable explanations.
For those who require a challenge, the Great Cats pose
their own difficulties. These fierce nocturnal hunters are
terrible lushes and can hold far more liquor than the
standard domestic cat. We recommend 10 quarts of Rebel Yell
Whiskey (since they wouldn't know a good whiskey if you
poured it in catnip) administered from a safe distance.
After 20 minutes or so, get in, make your move, and get out
quickly. These cats sober up quickly, and no one wants to be
faced with a bleary, violated 250 pound pussy.
Caution is highly recommended. One account from the early
1980s relates the story of a poor fool who plied a cougar
with five cases O'Douls, only to lose his genitals and
right leg. He learned, too late, that O'Douls is a
Non-Alcoholic Malt Beverage.
TIP: Older cats prefer bourbon.
WARNING: Those with allergies to cats should consult a
doctor before attempting any feline encounters!
REANIMATED CORPSE FUCKING
Medical students have long realized that a fresh corpse can
be "reanimated" or brought back to a semblance of life, with
some simple lab equipment and 1.3 Megajoules of electricity.
These bodies exhibit little or no higher brain function, and
are prone to drastic body spasms, but make an interesting
lay. Although not strictly masturbatory, it isn't
technically necrophilia either since the body is moving
around.
Besides severe electric shock, subjects can expose
themselves and others to less obvious dangers. A University
of Michigan medical student and 23 others were killed in
1989 as a reanimated corpse went rampaging through downtown
Ann Arbor during rush hour, crushing several pedestrians and
destroying a Jack In The Box franchise. Pitchfork wielding
villagers then lynched the responsible student soon
afterwards for messing with "Things Man Was Not Meant To
Know".
TIP: A reanimated corpse makes a great gag "blind date" for
your friends!
FURRIER JACQUE'S FUCK BOX
Developed by a French furrier along the lonely banks of the
St. Lawrence River in the mid 1700s, the Fuck Box is simply
an ordinary box with a hole in it housing a starving
wolverine. Although Furrier Jacque's calloused weiner was
impervious to the wolverine's voracious antics, modern
practicioners are careful to defang and declaw these little
monsters. They recreate the hungry bloodlust which provided
the only real pleasure in a lonely furrier's life.
In 1995, a barely conscious 21 year-old was admitted to Los
Angeles County Hospital with a mysteriously shredded groin.
It took doctors four hours to identify that the patient was
even a man. EMT personnel on the scene identified a
blood-soaked "Fuck Box" next to the subject's bed. Inside
they found the rotting remains of his ravaged manhood, and
12 hungry newborn wolverine pups.
TIP: Try spreading peanut butter on your penis for extra
pleasure!
Next issue read updates on:
EXPANDING DINO-SPONGE INSERTION: They're not just bath toys
anymore!
BOMB FUCKING: For intense and sudden stimulation.
'GATOR WRESTLING FUN: Crocodile tears? No way!
If you have the opportunity to try any of these methods,
let us know if you find them as fulfilling as we do.
---
So You Think You're a Vampire?
-drbubonic@aol.com
They creep into the night. Some paint their faces white,
with red specks of fake blood. Others wear long cloaks to
conceal their wispy, undernourished frames. The rest appear
perfectly normal, not unlike you or me. They gather together
in hotel conference rooms across the country to share in a
night of conflict, feasting, and fantasy. A fantasy in
which they're stalking, blood-thirsty vampires.
Unfortunately some people there seem a little shaky on the
vampire part.
I decided to join a convention sponsored live-action role
playing game of Vampire: The Masquerade. Basically, a bunch
of overacting High School Drama Club dorks get together and
pretend they're undead. Being one of those dorks myself, I
seemed qualified to play. The rules were unclear, but they
appeared to involve a lot of yelling and waving your arms
around. I looked forward to joining this sickening orgy.
Right off the bat, I was disappointed. The evening's
objective was not to suck the life from innocent, virginal
hotel guests, but to unite the feuding vampire clans
together. What happened to Van Helsing? The leaky castles?
The garlic? Apparently they don't do that "Stoker stuff".
When we broke into smaller groups to discuss what had to be
done to achieve our dubious objective, my spirits sagged.
"Harken to me! The other Clans will not hear of us uniting
and will strike us where we stand!", the speaker droned in
a nasal, Shakespearean tone. I stared in disbelief. Did he
really say, 'Harken'? What good ghoul talks like he is
hawking sausages at the Renaissance Faire? If there were
any justice, Bela Lugosi's morphine-preserved corpse
would've made an unannounced visit and given this
faux-fiend some speech lessons.
I was also astonished at the stupid-looking hats some
people were wearing . I'm not talking about hooded cowls or
gauzy veils, (which would have been acceptable) but leather
safari hats, purple velveteen raver's headgear, soiled
baseball caps, and even a cowboy hat! What ever happened to
a good old-fashioned widow's peak haircut? Is that so out of
style for a bloodsucker?
Turning their backs to The One True Vampire had crushed
these once powerful creatures into petty beings, forever
bickering and fighting amongst themselves. I vainly tried
to warn them of the error of their ways, but was quickly
silenced. When did Morrissey's Xtacy-loving fans become the
poster children for the undead? I blame Anne Rice. I blame
those Sandman comics. I blame YOU for standing by idly
while the very concept of vampire mutates into something
hip and sexy! I left the game, grabbed my trusty pitchfork,
a flaming torch, and marched back to my peasant village
vowing to become a minion of the true Romanian uber-vamp,
Dracula. The monsters I left behind would pay for their
disrespect!
It didn't take long for my plan to unfold. A new Aaron
Spelling TV show based on the very same Masquerade mythos
premiered soon afterward. No doubt that same program will
expose these faithless creatures to a media glare so harsh,
it will turn them into dust faster than sunlight ever could.
And what moody hipster would want to simply rehash a TV show
like a common Trekkie? Those punks will crawl back into
their hidey-holes faster than you can say Melrose Place
Live Action Game.
Now that's something I could get into.
---
IRATE AND ANGRY LIBS
HOW TO PLAY: Print out this sheet. Find another person. Do
not let this person read the stories below. Ask them for
words that fit the guidelines below. If the blank requires
a noun, ask for a noun from the other person, and write it
in the space provided. If you do not know what a noun is,
go back to school, learn basic English, and return to this
game.
DEATH NOTICE
_(YOUR FIRST NAME)_ _(YOUR LAST NAME)_, a _(YOUR RACE)_
_(YOUR SEX)_, age _(YOUR AGE)_.. Worked as a(n)
_(OCCUPATION)_.
Survived by _(FAMILY RELATION)_, a(n) _(OCCUPATION)_.
Found dead on _(DATE)_. at _(PLACE)_. around _(TIME)_
The immediate cause of death: _(WAY TO DIE)_.
If obvious marks of distress are present, their location:
_(BODY PART)_.
Wound appears: _(ADJECTIVE)_
Suicide? _(YES OR NO)_
Method of disposal: _(BURIAL METHOD)_
I hereby declare this to be the truth:
_(NAME OF COUNTY CORONER)_., _(DATE)_
CLASSIC LITERATURE
Beowulf waes breme (blaed _(ADVERB)_ sprang),
Scyldes _(VERB)_ Scedelandum in.
_(DANK PLACE)_ sceal geong _(BLOOD-SOAKED ADJECTIVE)_ gode
gewyrcean,
_(VIKING EXCLAMATION)_ feohgiftum on _(FEARSOME NOUN)_
bearme! aet _(SMITING VERB)_ on ylde eft gewunigen
wilgesilas, Yonne wig _(GUTTERAL SLUR)_,
leode _(DANISH TERM OF ENDEARMENT)_; lofdaedum sceal
in maegla _(SNEEZING SOUND)_ man geLeon.
Him la Scyld gewat to _(WORD FOR GERMAN DRIVING COMFORT)_!
MODERN LITERATURE
My buddies and I were hanging out in a bar when she walked
up to me. The way she was _(VERB ENDING IN ING)_, it was
obvious she wanted to _(VERB)_ me, bad. She had a beautiful
set of _(BODY PART(S))_ that would make any man go
_(EXCLAMATION)_! She grabbed me and screamed, "_(VERB)_ me!
_(VERB)_ me now on this _(FURNITURE)_!" as she ripped off my
_(PIECE OF CLOTHING)_, exposing my _(BODY PART)_ for all to
see. I wasn't embarassed though since it's _(NUMBER)_
inches long and would make any man _(ADJECTIVE)_! This girl
was so _(ADJECTIVE), it made me _(VERB)_ my _(NOUN)_ a bit
too _(ADVERB)_. She yelled _(EXCLAMATION)_, _(EXCLAMATION)
as I started screaming _(EXCLAMATION)_ and _(VERB)ED_ all
over her _(BODY PART)_. But that didn't stop her.
_(NUMBER)_ other guys followed my lead and all started to
_(VERB)_ her simultaneously. I have never seen a girl get
_(VERB)ed_ so _(ADVERB)_ by so many people! What a great
_(PERIOD OF TIME)_ we had!
-drbubonic@aol.com
---
CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES (COME ON)
-Caligula@aol.com
The cake is set. The candles are lit. A surge of
accomplishment races through my body, something like the
euphoria that follows after landing a plane, writing a
novel, or pulling a mousetrap off of one's thumb. Bring out
the marching bands! Throw the ticker tape! It's my 10th
anniversary of sex.
Or is it?
When 1986 reared its swollen, pimply head, I was just a
high school sophomore praying somebody would want to do me
before I died. The terrible thought permeated my entire
existence: what if I was hit by a bus tomorrow and never
got to experience sex? That warmth, that softness, that
beautiful moment when the condom snags your pubic hair as
you try to roll it off. Ah, the humanity.
As I bided my time collecting PEZ dispensers and playing
Squeeze covers with my band--The Management--this
attractive young pixie (we'll call her "Sue") waltzed into
my life. Actually, she stared me down several days in a row
as I waited to get into history class after lunch. Then she
and a friend of started sending me wacky "appreciation"
notes through an English teacher. Finally, her devotion to
The Management won me over. Sue faithfully attended our
concerts, impressing me with what I later realized was an
artificially-created mountain of cleavage (this in the days
pre-Wunderbra). Things started to heat up. And, in an
amazing high school moment, her old boyfriend destroyed an
entire bathroom when he found out she liked me. Wow! I was
somebody.
Our first date was to my sister Laurie's dance recital. Our
REAL first date was going to be the day after (to see
"Poltergeist II"), but teen-love burned so badly that Sue
agreed to come along on this Friday night family outing. We
sat far, far away from my parents, up in the balcony, where
she proceeded to chew my ear and lick my neck as
pre-pubescent little girls pranced in sparkly costumes to
"Let's Hear It For The Boy". At intermission, we ditched
the show for the cozy privacy of a park bench directly in
front of the theater. It was there I asked if I could kiss
every inch of her exposed legs. (She was wearing shorts).
Later, we shared our first kiss and she said, "you need a
lot more practice." I should have known her sensitivity
would progress into later statements like "this will all
mean a lot more to you than it does to me" and--after
breaking up with me for my friend--"Max has a much better
body than you do."
But our relationship continued, lasting almost a year. It
was a year of many milestones. A year in which I refused to
visit my aunt so that I could play hooky and touch real
breasts for the first time. A year in which I was giving
head and suddenly heard my mother's car pull up in the
driveway below. A year in which Sue gave me mononucleosis,
strep throat, and chicken pox. Of course, I once gave her a
hairful of semen prior to boarding a flight to Dallas, so I
guess we're even.
During this year, we only attempted vaginal intercourse
twice. Both times at her place, with her younger brother--a
diminutive serial killer in training--smashing his fist on
the bedroom door and screaming, "SUSAN, SUSAN, LET ME IN!"
Although penetration did occur both times, it was
unmercifully brief. And traumatic. My 16 year old weenie
was so scared it didn't make much of an appearance.
Afterwards we just stuck to a steady diet of oral and
manual sex (easier to disengage). Still, I considered these
aborted attempts to be "my first time". After we broke up, I
heard that Sue claimed she was still a virgin until she
"lost it" with Max. I disputed this fact aloud one night,
and my friend Phil gently countered with, "well, there's
that piece of skin you're supposed to break..."
Hey, her hymen was already gone by the time I got around to
it (Horseback riding, I think). So that was no help. Left
alone, I wondered whether to count those two times or not.
I usually have. But there's no way to "check"; I lost touch
with Sue a long time ago. And the "next time" didn't come
until a full year later, when an old friend came back from
college to seduce me in her father's study while MTV
flickered about 16" away from us on the floor. They say the
third time's a charm. It was.
Despite any residual bitterness--or weirdness--I have to
admit that there was a lot of good in my relationship with
Sue. She was supportive, fun, smart, and had a great sense
of humor. She set the precedent for many healthier, more
mature relationships to follow. And she can't complain
either. My Dad taught her how to drive.
So is it my 10th anniversary of sex, or just my 10th
anniversary of sexual activity? Call me deluded, but I'd
say I'm right to celebrate the mark. Who really determines
the rules for sexual intercourse, anyway? An umpire? The
Pope? I may not have bowled a strike, but I didn't exactly
roll a gutterball either. Any disputers out there will
simply have to take it up with my memory bank.
EDDIE SCHMIDT recovered from adolescence to have a healthy,
if sometimes sporadic, adult sex life. He is not technically
a pervert, but does admit to a late night encounter with a
Veryfine juice machine.
---
TEENAGE WORLD'S RECORDS
-excerpted from Ripley's Book Of Absolutely True, Totally
Useless Facts (Harper, Roe, Wade; 1984)
*Russell Hoffmeier of Nutbush, Wisconsin, suffered the
Biggest Acne Outburst In One Day: a whopping six pimples
and nineteen blackheads! These blemishes appeared
throughout a Saturday in 1963 after he ate nothing but
chocolate and potato chips and refused to wash, even after
an afternoon of olive oil wrestling!
*Leroy Mason of Ossining, New York became the first
Teenager To Admit He Never Masturbated! A close inspection
of Mason's palms, genitals, and secret magazine stack in
the woods revealed that the boy had no normal sexual
interest whatsoever! However, Mason later testified in
court that he had several intense orgasms after murdering
most of the neighbors on his block.
*Claire Chapman of Surrey, England holds the title for
Teenager Never Exposed To Drinking, Drugs, or Illicit
Substances. Wabash's formative years (1952-1959) were spent
inside an 8' by 12' black box designed by psychologist B.F.
Skinner. While she had many friends during this period,
most were either imaginary or shaped like dust bunnies.
Though Wabash never turned to drugs or to drink during her
life, she did harbor an addiction to strong electrical
currents.
*Peter Weiner-Dickballs of Edmonton, Alberta, is the Most
Ridiculed Teen, with an incredible 23,789 recorded cases of
mental and physical abuse. Amazingly, none of these
incidents had to do with Weiner-Dickballs' unusual name,
but rather because he was a cripple!
*Luigi Pantolillio of Naples, Italy, is the amazing Teen To
Never Be Refused For A Date. Pantolillio, an exceptionally
handsome young man during his peak years (1878-1880) asked
out one hundred eleven women, and all said yes almost
immediately! But even with these romantic successes,
Pantolillio was terribly insecure. He only found true
carnal happiness later in life, with a long black leather
belt named "Susan". He was survived by 436 children, none
of whom he had ever met.
*Heidi Olafson of Holland, Amsterdam, won fame as the Least
Rebellious Teenager In History. During her teen years
(1922-1929), she was kind to her siblings, listened to
teachers and parents, and never lied to anyone. Olafson
rarely spoke, which unfortunately led to her parents
mistaking her for a bookcase (1927-1928). She went on to
live a long and healthy life, even burning her bra as a
senior citizen during the turbulent 1960s! It was later
discovered, however, to be the result of a gas fire and not
a political act.
-eddie "never a teen himself" schmidt (caligula@aol.com)
---
THE OOZE BOYFRIEND SURVEY!
Complete the following sentences with the phrase that most
describes your boyfriend.
Part I: IS YOUR BOYFRIEND A CRIMINAL?
Your boyfriend sees an elderly woman injured by the side of
the road. He would: A) help her up and call an ambulance. B)
ignore her. C) rifle through her pockets, take any change
and roll her into oncoming traffic.
Your boyfriend treats you like: A) a princess. B) his own
mother. C) one of his stanky 'ho bitches.
Your boyfriend comes home with a new Mercedes. He tells you
not to worry about the expense because: A) he's been saving
his meager income for years. B) he just had a special visit
from Ed McMahon. C) he jacked it from an undercover cop
who's still in the trunk.
If you were to rifle through your boyfriends's sock drawer
you would most likely find: A) a picture of his family. B)
dirty magazines. C) Louie "Two Fingers" Boomba's index
finger.
Part II: IS YOUR BOYFRIEND A GIRL?
When you have sex with your boyfriend he: A) kisses you
gently and carefully slides his penis into you. B) smacks
you roughly and slaps his penis against your belly. C)
doesn't have a penis.
When your boyfriend goes to the bathroom he uses: A) the
urinal B) the nearest tree or bush. C) Tampax.
Your boyfriend's chest looks: A) broad and strong. B) flat
and weak. C) to be about a B cup.
Once a month, your boyfriend: A) cleans out the garage. B)
cleans out the gutters. C) cleans out his uterine lining.
Part III: IS YOUR BOYFRIEND AN ELECTRICAL APPLIANCE?
When you say hello to your boyfriend, he says: A) "Hello
sweety!" B) grunts passionately. C) hums gently unless you
unplug him.
Your boyfriend uses too many: A) bottles of after shave. B)
tissues. C) batteries.
The celebrity that looks most like your boyfriend is: A)
Art Garfunkel. B) Art Carney. C) R2D2.
After a furious session of lovemaking, your boyfriend likes
to: A) tell you he loves you and snuggle. B) light up a
cigarette. C) be plugged back into the television.
Part IV: IS YOUR BOYFRIEND AN ALIEN?
Your boyfriend is most likely to: A) smash his car into a pole when he
drives home drunk. B) smash his bike into a pole when he
rides home drunk. C) smash his X-11 Scout Saucer into Mars
when he hyperspaces home drunk.
Your boyfriend has: A) a large penis. B) a large gut. C) a
large third eye in the middle of his forehead.
Your boyfriend says he wants to be with you because: A) he
can't imagine life without you. B) you're better in bed
than your mom. C) Mars Needs Women.
Your boyfriend's last name sounds most like: A) Smith.
B) Sabibsalam. C) a high pitched squeal almost
imperceptible to human ears.
ADD UP THE NUMBER OF C'S IN EACH SECTION
No C's: Your boyfriend is none of these things, but that
doesn't mean he isn't a jerk or something worse.
1-2 C's in one or more categories: Your boyfriend may
possibly be a criminal/woman/appliance/alien. Follow him
around for a while, taking careful notes. Ask some rude
questions. Possibly start an FBI security file.
3-4 C's in one or more categories: Face it, your boyfriend
is probably a criminal/woman/appliance/alien. That doesn't
mean you still can't love him, it's just going to be harder
on you. Try a romantic weekend getaway to brighten a sore
relationship.
If you answered C to a majority of ALL the categories:
You're definitely going out with an electric female alien
criminal. I have no advice for you. The end is near.
---
LETTERS
The only good piece of hate mail we got was sent by someone
who read a website review I wrote for the March '96 issue of
net magazine (Check out my reviews from March-June '96). The
review in question was critical of a guy's webpage (Phil's
Plethora of Pages at
http://falcon.jmu.edu/~pollarpe/index.html) which is based
out of James Madison University. I said, "[The poor
organization of the site] could have something to do with
living in Lynchburg, VA. Last time I was there it reeked of
dog food from a local factory."
Dear Mr. Patterson-
When was the last time you were in Lynchburg, VA? I don't
know of anyone who has heard of a dog food factory anywhere
around here. I don't think that anyone living in the crime
infested armpit called Los Angeles has any room pointing
noses at anyone else's cities. I would like to see an
apology in 'the net' magazine in the near future.
From the city that smells better than yours,
JEFF.INKS@centrahealth.com
Lynchburg, VA
Dear Sir:
James Madison University, where the web page is based, is
actually located in Harrisonburg, a progressive city of
30,000 located in the heart of Virginia's historic
Shenandoah Valley which I visited in 1991. I mixed the that
city's name up with yours. Those Virginian "burg" cities are
easy to confuse. Lynchburg is that charming little city
where everyone wears tri-cornered hats and makes candles by
hand. My mistake! All the crime and smells around here are
so distracting.
---
From: Doug_Metzner@NBMI.COM (Doug Metzner)
Dear Ooze:
You don't have enough funny reading on the subject of
turds. Thank you. Also, my friends say you never spoofed on
Robert Frost's "Mending Wall". Maybe you could throw in some
sort of turd tie-in.
Doug:
I haven't read the "Mending Wall" since 8th grade, but I
can throw in all the Frost references I can think of into a
single epic:
POOP WALL
Two paths diverge in my ass
But my Turds choose
the path less traveled
A good poop makes
good neighbors
and miles to go before I shit
and miles to go before I shit
I could publish an Ozymandius where he proclaims he is King
of Turds, or a Xanadu where Kubla Khan makes a stately
pleasure turd, but I am out of poetry for this issue.
---
I like to describe, how may this be done?
-Zeeberex@aol.com thanks
Dear Zeeberex:
Describing, like any profession, takes a great many years
of study and professional aptitude testing before you can
receive a federal license. Many undergraduate programs have
professional training in adjectives and adverbs, as well as
the more advanced techniques like metaphor and simile.
Oxymorons and their ilk are strictly post graduate work and
we suggest you try applying to Harvard, Princeton or
Oxford's advanced description labs. Are you sure you didn't
want a subscription? -MJ
---
From: JFinley502
My buddy has been sending your Mag since the first issue
and there is now quite a following in the dark halls of
Apple. As a wage slave I find it a joy to sneak a look at
the great articles and images while my slave driver boss is
away. Thank you for giving me something to do other than
playing Marathon for 9 hours a day. And they wonder why
Apple is falling apart...
Dear JFinley502
Apple was a pretty difficult nut to crack. We originally
started sabotaging your company with a cleverly designed
psychological campaign after Ooze's first computer was
stolen and we wanted to drive the price of our hardware
down. What better way than to make you overstock billions
of dollars of cheap Performas? With Apple out of the way
the market will be awash with cheap used equipment perfect
for constructing our empire of sin and depravity.
Incidentally, we were also responsible for putting the
quabosh on Interactive TV, and after we're through with
you, we're going to destroy Microsoft, NetScape, and AOL
too! That will leave OozeOS '97 and The Oozenet as the only
options available to the masses. Oh, how we look forward to
that day. -MJ
Send your psychotic ramblings to drbubonic@aol.com
-MJ is MJ at spoot1@aol.com
---
See the Ooze webpage (http://www.io.com/~ooze) for our
shareware and link picks of the issue!
---
BUY AN OOZE T-SHIRT!
Befuddle your neighbors! Frighten children! Make friends
with freaks INSTANTLY! Wear an OOZE T-SHIRT! Be the first
kid in your domain to have one of these beauties. This
high-quality cotton shirt is emblazoned with a portrait of
the Ooze mascot, Baby With Fork-In-Head... in glorious
black and blood red colors! (see the picture at
http://www.io.com/~ooze/ooze8/Get_a_Shirt.html)
The second batch are finally here and shipping! (If you
sent an order and did not get a shirt, e-mail me and I'll
rush one to you.- sorry but I had to change printers
TWICE!) DO NOT DELAY!
This one-size-fits-most XL shirt is only $12.97 (US) and
includes shipping. (US only foreign orders add $4.03) US
money only. Send checks, money orders or cash to:
Matt Patterson 968 Tularosa Dr. #2 Los Angeles, CA 90026
---
WHERE IS OOZE?
OOZE WEB SITE
Just point your web browser to: http://www.io.com/~ooze/
and unlock the mysteries of Ooze! View unedited text
editions, or download current or previous Acrobat(PDF) or
Mac versions of this award winning publication. Read the
latest in Ooze-News, previously unpublished bits, and scan
more graphics than you can shake a billy club at. Also:
cool sites to link to, and subscriber Home Pages! Link Ooze
to your Homepage and we'll link you to Ooze! Then you can
marvel at my inability to grasp even the simplest of
programming languages!
WWW ANNOUNCE SUBSCRIPTIONS!
Send us your e-mail address with the statement in the body
of your message that you want to be put on the WWW ANNOUNCE
list, and we'll send a short e-mail notifying you that a new
issue of ooze has been posted on our website. It's easy,
fun, and takes a lot less room in your mailbox.
SUBSCRIPTIONS! ARE A GREAT GIFT
Get ASCII Text, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) or Mac Application Ooze
in your mailbox! Send a groveling letter to
Drbubonic@aol.com stating whether you want Mac, PDF or Text
Ooze. We send PDF and Mac Ooze issues to all internet
accounts, but make sure your account can handle 1 meg+
bin-hex files! BACK ISSUES ALSO AVAILABLE!
SELL OUT YOUR FRIENDS
Give us all the e-mail addresses of your friends, and we'll
send them Ooze, ABSOLUTELY FREE! What better way to say, "I
love you"? Except perhaps just saying it out loud.
Other spots featuring Ooze:
Ftp the current ALL VERSIONS from
ftp://ftp.io.com/pub/usr/ooze
Ftp the TEXT VERSION from ftp.etext.org (file path is
/pub/Zines/Ooze/)
America Online- Mac Games Forum (Keyword: MGM) Old issues
in the publications archive. [edited for content]
CompuServe- Go MACFUN. Ooze is in the Game Aids/Add -ons
Library. [edited for content]
virtual.village-/a FirstClass BBS@508.368.4222
POSITIONS AVAILABLE
Besides writing or making art for Ooze, we have a few
positions we need to fill:
HTML/Multimedia funny ha ha's- If you program cgi or
multimedia weirdness, submit it to us, as we are getting
more disk space.
Distributors- Even if you aren't funny, you can spread the
word of Ooze. Put it on your ftp site, forward them to all
your friends, etc. As a bonus, you'll get the beta issues
too. Your input is needed!
Send all contributions (sounds, games, articles, art,
Oriental rugs) to Drbubonic@aol.com
Ooze #9 is going to be our International issue due out
September 1. Deadline for submissions is the end of July.
JOIN OUR STAFF TODAY!