MisterYuck

    As our solid title here implies, alliteration aside of course, I'd like to talk to you first and foremost about 'faith', and more importantly how the governing faith of our society, Christianity, Is inherently bonded to fiction. If anyone should find themselves offended at my implication that Christianity is the governing faith of American society I present you with this revelation. English, your language, in itself is an extremely lucrative example of the omnipresent Christian overtones ingrained in our culture. What I aim to persuade you of is that fiction, deserves just as much a right to capitalization as Christianity does.
    Exhibit A. The bible. In my opinion and in the opinion of any self respecting admirer of literature, the bible is a decent representation of fiction. It has compelling characters, thought provoking situations, clever literary devices, In essence it presents to us situations that we can learn from. What any good author should aim to do with fiction is to create for an audience, a sense that what they are telling them is true. The character does exist, or could plausibly exist within the parameters the author has laid out for them. The events that shape the characters could reasonably happen to someone. The life of Christ could, within the parameters the bible has deemed 'reasonable', have been factual. So what Christ becomes essentially, is Romeo. Bare with me here. Christ, in the setting he is best known for, is nothing more than a character within a story, who is relevant because he sets forth an ideal. A standard. A moral objectivity to which people might strive to emulate. Romeo himself behaves in a way that humanity deems commendable, with honor, undying love, eventually sacrifice. Yet no large group of people will gather to mourn his passing.
    Exhibit B. Fiction itself. As a driving force of culture. Human beings do not naturally act on their own without some model to follow. An infant behaves as it's parents behave. As we get older we find models for life in literature. We identify with characters and through the characters struggles we learn how we might like to act. The bible presented humanity with lovable characters who acted in the most logically compelling ways for their time. We let it get far out of hand though. We mutated what was a valuable art for into some disgusting rule book. Fiction has the ability to change throughout history. When monarchy's stretched across most of the world fiction was entirely different than the democratically charged trend we find ourselves in today. The bible however has been desecrated, not of its own fault but by the fault of humanity. We needed it to be something it should not have been. A rule book. Where it should have stayed a work of fiction.
    I'm straying from my point here. All I want for you to take from these ramblings is that we should give credit where credit is due. Our culture has built an entire faith on fiction. Maybe It's time we widened the realm of characters we draw direction from.

     In September of last year, I landed a job at my "uncle" Tom's screenprinting shop (he's actually a good friend of my dad's but I've known him forever.) Later, I'll tell you about my experience but for now I'll just give you the scoop on what exactly screenprinting is.
    These days, you can't go anywhere without seeing a locally printed t-shirt. Usually, it will be a business shirt. Maybe a nice polo with a logo on the chest or a large logo promoting a service or promotion. If it's in ink than it's usually a screenprinted shirt, which means someone like myself handled in some industrial complex, somewhere.
   

    The process starts with graphic design. The image is seperated into the individual colors. Each color is printed onto a film, only it's black. Next, a screen (which is just that, a wire screen, although way finer than any screen door) is coated in emulsion. This chemical dries fully when under a special light. Before putting it under this light, a printer tapes one of the films onto the screen. The emulsion is dried, besides the image where the film's image was. Then it's taken to the pressure washer, which washes away the wet emulsion, leaving plain mesh in the shape of the image. Well, one color from the image.
    Now you have one screen, ready for the press. At my shop, we have a manual and automatic machines for printing. For most jobs, particularly big ones, we use the auto. If there is more than one color, we use more than one screen which means that we have to line up the screens perfectly. To do this, you print on a shirt and then lower the second screen onto the first image. You line up the image on the screen with the image on the shirt and lock it into place.
   Of course, more goes into it than just that but it gives you an idea of what I do for the bread.

   Of course, more goes into it than just that but it gives you an idea of what I do.

-N.

 Social situations. They’re tough. I always feel like I either say the wrong thing or I at least really want to. For example I was in class the other day, and as class let out I overheard an acquaintance of mine saying that he had missed his bus home. That shit sucks, and I felt for the guy, he’s pretty chill, so for a split second, I thought about offering him a ride home. I immediately decided that was a bad idea because it would probably sound kind of creepy. I don’t really know him that well, you know? And then, after thinking about all that, I decided that it was a good thing I hadn’t asked before I thought about it because I probably would’ve tried to ease the awkwardness by saying something really dumb like “I’m not trying to be a creep or anything. But…I have candy.”
 Dates are a good example of when it might be fun to say the wrong thing. On a date, one person always asks the other “So did you have a nice time tonight?” You can never be honest and say, “Eh, about a C minus. The conversation was a bit lagging, but maybe you’ll try harder next time, huh?”  Dates are the worst social pickle, because you never act completely like yourself on a date. You can’t let that person know how crass, or vulgar you are, or how much you may or may not talk about feces. I was told once, though, by a date “I feel like there’s a side of you that I’m not seeing. Like I’m getting the nicer more polite side of you or something.” I said, “You’re right. *sigh* Good call. You know what? I’m just gonna lay it all out on the table. I’m a rapist. I frequent Wal-Mart restrooms looking for overweight girls with a low self-esteem to go home with.  And in my spare time, I’m a leather-worker. Wow. I can’t believe I told you that. I just feel like I can trust you, y’know? Like I can tell you anything.” Aaaaaaaand that was all a lie just now, I wish I would’ve said that. But like I said before, social dishonesty is the dating policy.
 Guess where else you have to cloak your personality? Let’s say it all in unison: RETAIL!!!! Well, I suppose any job where you work with customers really. Day in. Day out. We close at eight. Yes, that color does look good on you. Oh yeah, I know all about that stuff, it totally detangles your hair. And the really crazy part is that almost every single customer thinks you give a fuck about their personal life because….you have one too? I don’t really know why they think that. But it’s wrong. Dead wrong. They don’t know that, though, and you can’t tell them. But you pretend. You pretend to be concerned, knowledgeable, polite, not weird, and totally not obsessed with a dude whose name is Dick Cheese. Because that’s what’s gonna get you some where.

Alex

The boy in the back seat, do you see him? The one in the farthest back row. One, two, three seats in a line. He can count them. Stretched across the back of the blurry green station wagon. The green station wagon, burnin' up rubber! And, blowin' dust! The man behind the wheel says so. He leans out the window too. And he slaps the roof of the car with his palm. "WE BLOWIN' BITCHES SKIRTS UP NAH BOY!"
Two people in this car. The child counts them. He can see his face in the mirror. Not the mans face. He wants the man to turn around, or look in the mirror, then he could see what he looks like. In his head he says it. Turn around. look in the mirror. He can't remember what he looks like. Right now he can smell him. Smells mold and cigarettes like mother burns. He counts how many people in the other cars. His eyes bobbing just over the door panel.
One person in that car.
One person in that car.
Four people.
Two people.
One person.
He tries to remember their faces.
"Kid!" The man turns to him, his arm stretched miraculously long, all the way back to the boy, feet dangling off the edge of the seat. "Git a Brewskie!"
That's a can from the box on the floor. There were 24 of them. One for the man. 19 left. He looks at his face when he hands it to him. His chin is a gravel road. It looks rough. His skin is not holding on very tightly and makes little pools under his eyeballs. Those are round and yellow, and look as if they were made for closing.
"A'right Charles! Know where we goin' boy?"
Charles doesn't know. Not the man. Not goin'.
Not the blurry green wagon. He could count the numbers. Not the goin', not the wagon. He thought about jumping out of the car. His door was unlocked. They were going pretty fast. It hurt when the man threw him in. The ground looked like it hurt too. Hurt more than the seat of the wagon. So he stayed put.
"We goin all the way boy! that's where we fuckin' goin! WOOHOO!"
Charles fills up his head with the numbers. All the things outside the windows, going woosh. And gone. They don't slow down. All the way.

Being alone is truly the best time for self reflection. As of late I have been observing people, and the way we relate to each other. I have come to realize that it is important to be grateful for all of the people in our lives, no matter what kind of impact they have had on us.
I find it strange the way human interconnectivity works. Two people who have known each other all their lives could have less of a connection than two people who have just met. Visa versa, two people who have been best friends for years could just stop talking one day. Why does this happen? Sometimes life altering experiences don’t make people closer at all; they can actually come between the two and tear them apart. And sometimes, out of the blue, a call might never be returned.
I think about the people who I have lost every day. What would my life be like if they were still here? What would I be like? I have accepted the fact that people and their actions do have an effect on me, even if it is just observing certain behaviors that I, myself, never want to call my own. With this realization I have found a new appreciation for my fellow human being. I will respect you; we all come from different backgrounds and have had different life experiences, yet we all share the human condition and that gives us the power to empathize with each other.
It’s strange to me what some people wouldn’t do for someone else. The man who can’t pay his bills, yet buys lunch for the homeless lady down the street on a regular basis. The nuns, and monks who dedicate their lives to the service of the church and its community. The doctors who move to third world countries raped by war and propaganda to save the lives of men, women, and children whom they have never met and will probably never see again. I admire these people, and can only aspire to one day accomplish what they have.
I have a great appreciation for all of the people who are, and have been in my life. I have 2 of the best friends anyone could ever ask for, and I have had the privilege to meet and interact with some truly amazing people. I will always miss those who have touched my life and are no longer with me, but no words can describe how deeply grateful I am for having them in my life.

-Shane

Now, I am not in any way religious, nor do I support most organized religion. I believe religion is to be a personal, spiritual journey and should not be shared with the masses. But, what this guy is doing here, and the claims he makes, are totally irrational. Does he not realize the sheer age of the Bible? For shits sake, it’s over 2,000 years old! Now, I agree with him that the Bible should not be read in public, nor shared with people outside of church/church groups. Also, the Bible should not be used in a court of law, strictly because its use infringes every American citizens right to freedom of religion. However, in his ridiculous quest to persuade people to hate the Bible, he is in fact giving it the power he is trying to take from it. Let me deconstruct his little video;

Every passage he uses to smash the Bible and prove that it is “repulsive” was written over 2,000 years ago. In America we haven’t stoned anyone to death since the early 1900’s, not in the name of the Bible, that is. These passages are outdated, and haven’t been used as situation precedents or guidelines since the early creation of our country. Ultimately, even Christians know the Bible is full of a bunch of outdated ideals and practices. This guy is just as bad as those religious nuts who think it’s ok to kill others “in the name of god.” This guy is the kind of guy you’d see “killing in the name of humanity” or some bullshit like that. What a moron. I guess to him the Bible is more important than the Constitution. I cannot stress enough the fact that we live in a country that allows us to believe in any religious deity we choose. Why the hell isn’t he deconstructing the Book of Mormon, or the Koran, or the Book of Scientology? Sure, the Bible has some ridiculous passages, and some pretty brutal imagery, but that’s how they dealt with things back in the day. This dude needs to read a damn history book, or maybe move the hell out of this country so his claims actually have some relevance. Fuck him for trying to impede on my right to read what I wish, believe what I want and think for my god damned self.

-Shane

   I have played God today. As I write this, one life is being absorbed into another. For some reason, I thought I had it in me to own a snake. I have a pet rat, for Christ’s sakes. Anyway, as you might have guessed, it’s feeding day, and I chose the most adorable little motherfucker in the world to send to her death. Not on purpose, I’m not that fucked up. Bear hamsters are just the right size, though. And ball pythons, for some reason, like hamsters particularly. Have you ever even seen a bear hamster? They look kinda like a mouse. But with a short stubby tail, so when they walk, they kinda look like a bear. A tiny little hand-sized mouse-bear. I ask you: What in the world is cuter than a tiny little hand-sized mouse bear? That beats a kitten in a cast by like 58 points. The girl at the pet store made it so hard on me. For some reason, you’re not allowed to buy the rodents at most pet stores for food. Snake food, that is. Probably not for human consumption either. I told her I wanted to buy the hamster. She eyed me suspiciously and asked       “Do you want it for a friend, or food?” I knew the password.
        “Oh, for a friend, definitely!” I said with an innocent smile. But the bitch just couldn’t shut her mouth.
      “Oh, good, then I can sell you that one no problem. Isn’t she adorable? I love the bear hamsters. I just cleaned her cage and fed her this morning. I wanted to get one myself, because they’re just so gosh darn adorable.”
      Fuck. As my stomach sinks, I tell her,
      “Oh, I completely agree. Adorable. That’s why I’m getting her.” So transparent.
      “You have her house and all her supplies yet? They like chew toys, so make sure you get some of those.”
      “Yeah. It’s…it’s all at my house. Just waitin’ for her. To live there.”
      On the way home Scott tried to make me feel better.
      “See, that’s why I can’t ever have a pet snake. I just don’t think it’s right to decide to keep an animal where you have to kill other animals to keep it.” He took the little thing out of its box and displayed its cute little face so I knew what a horrible person I was.
      “Yeah, well, just don’t name it.”
      “Oh, I already did. I’m going to tell you what the name is after you kill it, too.”
      Oh what a comfort a significant other can be.
      As you folks can see from the video, it only took about thirty seconds for Sindel to murder the poor unsuspecting bear hamster. I don’t know if you can tell, but when the snake struck I jumped about ten feet in the air. I believe you can hear me say, “That scared the SHIT out of me.” I wouldn’t have normally watched like that, but I already knew I was going to have to therapeutically write about this. So, essentially, I did it for you guys. When it was over I went upstairs and told Scott. He said,
      “I can’t believe you killed Quincy.”


      Does anyone want my snake?

-Alex

My pal, Rickie got a gym membership the other day and I happened to be there. The man signing him up offered me a 24 day trial membership. I, being thin but not in shape at all, jumped at the offer. Allow me to detail this splendid journey into the depths of a fitness center. 
But before I do, you should know that I haven't worked out in quite a while. I'm not a strong guy, really and I weigh like 144 lbs.
I follow my friend through the doors and we head to the locker room. Let's first take care of the obvious. The men's locker room is full of penis. There are wieners everywhere and you can't not see them. Weird wrinkly old asses exposed as their conductors fish whitey tighties out of lockers. The most awkward small talk takes place in this horrid place. God forbid, some completly naked man with a comb-over has to get into the locker directly next to you, and he has something to say. "Pretty rainy out there, eh buddy?"
You leave the steamy dick pit, knowing you have to go back eventually, and you head towards the workout machines. In order to get to everything besides the stairmasters and treadmills, you have to walk behind them. I couldn't help but to fear someone trying to go too fast and tripping, falling and being launched into me.
At this point, I've passed the first few trials on my way to becoming fit. Now it's time to act confident in front of rediculous piles of muscle in Nike shorts. I felt self-concious for no reason, though. The walls are lined with mirriors to distract the brutes as mouse-ike me scurries to the first activity.
After working out for a while and being showed the ropes, I'm pretty much done. I wanted to do some cardio but for some reason, the treadmills and such are very popular. It seemed like steam room time so that's where I went. It was crazy hot in there. It's supposed to be at like 110 degrees but it was more like 120. I couldn't breath through my nose at all. It also smelled like menthol for some reason. I lasted maybe five minutes before switching to the sauna, which was nothing after the steam trap.
One more trip through the cock filled locker room and I was back in my normal fit and on my way out. All-in-all it was a good experience and I'll be back as often as I can in 24 days.

-N.