Despite these exciting changes, our mission statement remains the same: to introduce the reader to the fascinating fiction behind the thin veneer of reality. Think of our humble publication as a sterilized needle, eager to drain the pus from your boiled-over existence.
This month's features include:
In the immortal words of B. Andre Harris, "there is no such thing as constructive criticism." Nonetheless, and despite the fragile self-esteem of our editorial staff, please send your feedback to Dharma Delivery
Hi there folks. As national director of WIMP, my prestigious corner office contains the heads of many dead animals, but only one aphorism: Boys will be boys, and boys love their toys." And, as anyone who hangs with The Sidster knows, no toy can satisfy me unless it can cause massive destruction and loss of life. Thankfully, you and I live in the only country in the world which constitutionally acknowledges this most fundamental of human rights. No, I'm not talking about freedom of speech--aka, "the amendment for pantywaists," or some other privilege for the spineless. Real men value action over words, and if your tissues are as saturated with testosterone as mine, that action can only involve the sacred right to keep, bear, enjoy, use, sell, discharge, conceal, polish, ponder, and fondle.......weaponry. This right is an epistemological primary--all other rights are derived from it and no other right can exist without it. What good is freedom of speech if you can't annihilate those who disagree? As a nation which values individual responsibility what can be more sublime than being responsible for death and destruction? For the Sidster, my latest act of worship has been to purchase a neutron bomb from a disgruntled member of our national militia. Merely gazing upon its gleaming exterior is an instant epiphany. However, "Newt" (for that's what I call him) is too large to fit into even the most prodigious gun rack, thus depriving the public of a powerful display of true masculinity. I'm currently negotiating with my military source for a surplus tank, complete with a storage area large enough to carry Newt in style. So, for the Sidster, the pursuit of the ultimate toy continues. I close with a poem:
You may scroll onward or Return to the List of Features
Afraid of Losing Face?Then you may Return to the List of Features
From his first, primitive recordings with the legendary Liver Pills in the 1960's, to his later, primitive disco material, and up to his most recent, primitive solo recordings, Lust Hemingway has always embodied the triumph of fashion trends over musical substance. While careening recklessly through the world of fashion, the Little Blonde Bantam has compiled a most derivative body of musical work. From the cathartic wailing of the Liver Pills, to the neo-classical Cleavage Concerto, the Italian Scallion has done much with the same three chords. Now, exclusively in The Satyrist, the newly-sober Lust has finally agreed to look back upon his storied career and legendary fashion sense. Part 1 of a 7-part Lust Extravaganza!
What were some of your early influences? In the beginning it was primarily gravity, with a healthy dose of both strong and weak nuclear force. I began with Dalton's theory of the atom, up through Bohr, Heisenberg, and eventually to Bob Barker. Then I discovered the Blues. My buddies and I got a gig as the house band at a local hair salon, and also played an occasional satanic ritual or Bar Mitzvah.
How did you get together with those legendary Liver Pills? Well, I pulled into a Burger King one night. It turned out that the graveyard manager had a bass guitar--so of course he was in. The drummer was the son of my dad's girlfriend's probation officer.
How many chords did you know at the time?. We only knew one chord. I don't remember which one it was, but I know it was named after one of the letters of the alphabet. I think we learned it from a James Brown record. Of course, The Liver Pills were always fashion trend-setters, and that is what I am most proud of. It was the height of psychedelia, so we wanted to dress appropriately. As group leader, I was responsible for conceptualizing the fashion strategy, and I opted tight denim jeans and Pendleton shirts. By the time we recorded our second album--you know, the one with the naked lady on the front--I had developed a special groin enhancement device. This caused an exponential increase in my Perceived Level Of Virility, and won me a coveted spot on the Podium at the1968 Republican convention. We jammed into the wee hours--Agnew was a great statesman, but he couldn't play bass worth a damn.
The Liver Pills disbanded after their second album. What happened? We couldn't agree on who would manage our fashion development. The others wanted to go with Kalvin Cline, but I wanted someone a little more vulgar. I wanted someone who would do anything to help us sell records. Finally, I decided to start over with a new, progressive rock band, which of course was "Threeskin."
Editor's note: To be continued in a future issue.
If you have had enough Lust for life, you may Return to the List of Features
However, none of these customer eccentricities prepared me for the Ultimate Health Food Store Customer. Everyone, it seemed, was receiving advice from a trusted friend or nutrition expert. But what if that nutrition whiz was an entity from another dimension?
One boring afternoon, I was sitting behind the counter reading when two well-dressed middle-aged ladies burst into the store. As usual, the customers ignored me, as they reached for a shopping cart and immersed themselves in the buying experience. They whispered conspiratorially as they worked their way around the perimeter of the store, continually referring to a long list of items on a sheet of notebook paper. Since I was on "partial commission," I was elated to note that their shopping cart was filling up rapidly, without any effort at all on my part. To still my excited mind, I recited the famous Hindu mantra "EZ Sale, EZ Sale"--but alas to no avail. They had accumulated approximately twenty bottles in their cart, and seemed intent upon purchasing every nutrient known to............man. I presently adopted the theory that there should be one vitamin for every letter of the alphabet, and was speculating about the potential health benefits of Vitamin W, when they called out to me and interrupted my reverie: "Do you have Vitamin E in 400 milligrams?"
"Well, yes, but Vitamin E is actually measured in International Units, not milligrams." I glanced at their long and puzzling list of nutrients. "Who recommended all this stuff?"
"This was prescribed by Bulltha. We have it on tape."
Ah yes, Bulltha. In the rural part of my home state, there was a "channeler" who was in contact with Bulltha, an entity from another level-dimension-universe-epoch-municipality, if you get my drift. In fact, Bulltha was so ancient, s/he knew the continents before they started to drift. As I struggled to contain a giant wave of laughter, I glanced down their list, and noted that Bulltha was also recommending, 50 milligrams of Copper each day. Since Copper was only available in 2 milligram tablets, the eminent sage was suggesting an impractical and highly-toxic dose of 25 tablets per day. Perhaps Bulltha received his nutrition education during the Bronze age. At any rate, I decided to attempt reentry back to planet Earth.
"That seems like an awful lot of Copper. Maybe you should listen to the tape again and make sure that you understood his instructions."
They took my advice. They purchased $130 of vitamins, leaving the copper for another day. I estimated their "idiot premium" (the amount they paid in excess of what a hypothetical rational person would have purchased) at approximately $120. It could have been much worse: at least now they would not have mounds of copper deposited in their arteries. And Bulltha, wherever you are, I hope you are getting all your vitamins from a well-balanced diet.
You may Return to the List of Features
All contents © Dennis L. and Charlotte A. Hayes
1 O z