Punk/Ska Forum E-Zine #2
Link to Word document of E-Zine: http://www.mediafire.com/?cxdhyeadmdn
If that link doesn't work, it is also hosted here: http://myfreefilehosting.com/f/735f38914c_10.76MB
Punk/Ska Forum E-Zine Edition #2
July 1, 2008
Excerpt from “--Slam!”
By Jett Diamond
Whiplash; broke my spine last night. Felt my body slammed down on to
the sweat-soaked sheets and the now customary
pulsating of my heart coupled with the clammy nausea that seemed
to wake me nearly every night. I haven’t slept well in what seems to be years,
but really, I know it’s only been a few months. Maybe my tragic
flaw is my need to exaggerate, to take my mundane existence and break
it in two and create something bizarre. But this isn’t an exaggeration – at least, I don’t
think it is. But can I really know that? I closed my eyes. Sleep?
Woke up that morning. Early, but not too early; sun had still managed
to cut through the cracks in my curtain and blind me as I rolled out of bed onto
the cool floor. My sheets were damp – again. I had gotten used to it, them: the
constant dreams. Every night. Every day. The jarring sensations, the barbaric sounds of
metal raping metal; the way the glass shattered into every piece that could
ever exist and cut into me; the way the brakes were always so close but my foot could never clamp down. I would see my body rocket through the
broken windshield, cast onto the pavement like a rag doll, laying broken
among the scattered shards.
God, now it’s trickling into my waking hours too? I just can’t – I gotta
get out of that. I moved into the bathroom, showered. Dull razor against sharp
skin. I cut myself shaving. Again. My life keeps falling into these patterns
and I’m not sure where to go with it.
I walked back into my bedroom, water still clinging to the curve of my neck.
Was I going to live every day like this? But I had to shove that question
into the back of my mind – to question was only to give up my
being to the fear and control. So I ignored my subconscious prophesies and
dressed well. I always dress well. I’m all dolled up, with no place to go.
That’s my real tragic flaw.
I sat down at the table and broke open a box of cereal. Something relatively
commonplace to start a now repetitive morning with. Outside of the apartment
I could see sunlight tracing the shadows of the city onto the pavement; and
all of the people were streaming through cafes and alleyways. It seems like I hadn’t
been part of that rush for days, but in fact, I had just been out last night. Oh, God.
What am I going to do with myself?
Swept onto the streets, greeted the postman with our ritualistic nods and
merged into the flow of the city.
I didn’t know where I was headed, but I walked with a sense of importance. Carried
myself with a sense of dignity or confidence that no one beside me could match.
I broke my stride; across the street. Who the hell is that? The way her
hair brushed her cheeks and the way her lips met into such a gentle curve.
I felt an unnatural attraction – something far beyond love, lust, curiosity. Something
that danced with the speed of life, and pulled you into such a deadly
beautiful lock that you were left gasping for breath and clinging to what
you thought may be life.
I had to become her; I had to die with her. Turned on my heels
and moved with her. Behind her, across from her, but near her. It struck me
that she too walked with very little apparent purpose, but held herself
in such a way as to make those outside of her field of view see her as the Godsend.
Was she my Godsend?
Slowed near Café Casse. She entered as I waited outside. I looked through the window
and saw her take a seat with a novel. Maybe she –
****. And there goes my train of thought.
I opened the door and made my move. Towards the counter. Ordered some sort of
bull**** over-the-top coffee or something. Too many flavors but
I’ve never been that into coffee anyways.
Grabbed the “complimentary” newspaper on the way out the door;
I took a seat outside of the café. Couldn’t be too close to her.
Watched her through the glass. I squinted,
thought I saw red traces of her lipstick linger on the white edge of her
cup. What bothered me most was the fact that even as close as I was to her I
still couldn’t see the title of her book; the author; I couldn’t see what the barista
had scrawled on her drink. But God, she had gorgeous hands.
Stared into the center of my coffee, couldn’t see my own face.
I opened up newspaper. Flipped through a few pages and as usual there
was nothing to catch my eye. To take my breath away and leave me
inspired to confront the world that’s slowly
killing us all – killing me.
Jerked my head up from a story on some corporate take over; looked over to her
when it really hit me – blackout – the familiar screech, the nauseating
sensation of rocketing through your own semi-intact windshield as you
feel the shards of glass digging into your arm.
Couldn’t be sure if I was whole. My body was
ripped apart and I felt ready to die. In my head I was
begging, calling, pleading, just dying for someone to take me, to
just put me out of my misery.
No one could really hear me.
The screaming made me sick.
I think I felt myself vomit onto the hood. Did it
really even matter?
Foot caught in the seat belt as I dangle through the shattered remnants,
shrieking in pain. The horn from the other car
still blaring out across the shocked-silent streets, maybe this time
the frame of another caught in between our collision;
I couldn’t tell – blood had rushed to my face and spurted through the cuts,
“Hey man, you alive in there? Somebody got a phone?”
Some middle-aged man crouched over me. Slowly opened my eyes, felt the familiar
jarring sting of nausea over take my body. I was dry heaving as a small café crowd
drew around me. Whispers throbbing
through my skull. The man nearest to me, whom I can
only assume found me first, looked at me:
“Buddy, what happened to ya just now? You got a condition or somethin’?”
He seemed genuinely concerned. The Saint among the Strangers.
“I…I think I fell. That’s all. Must have, hit my head or something.”
The only excuse I could get out. He looked at me,
puzzled. Apparently those around us were disappointed.
“I’ll be fine, really,” was my fall back assurance. “But, you know, thank you.
A whole lot.”
Picked myself up with support on the table I had fallen next to. Knees still weak but I
could feel that it had come. And gone. And for now,
I was safe.
What the hell had I been…?
Where is she?
I looked frantically; glances into the café, up an down the street which had
by now returned to its normal state of affairs. Oh God.
Where is she?
She had gone. In all the commotion, she had either held no interest in the
well being of a stranger, or become part of the crowd, and just as
they all had, slipped through my fingers in my post-crash haze.
What am I going to do with myself?
And now a word from our sponsors…
--Illustrated by aXeslash
“The Godfather”, Reviewed in 15 words or Less
--It's the Pink Floyd of films - it's dull but everyone loves it
What’s Up With Brian?
Well, I've been on my own this week, so to keep myself from going crazy I've been watching pumping videos. Guess who's going to London to buy one today!
Kitten witten has been quite well behaved, although the absence of people around hasn't gotten to her yet, so she hasn't been acting extra friendly like she usually does when people go away.
Lastly, I've been trying to decide on my favourite shape of pasta. I decided on the little bows, because you could put one round a kitten's neck.
Is that enough, or do I need to include stuff about yoghurts and the like?
This weekend I watched "New York Doll" about Arthur Kane, and the Bob Gruen footage too, it's made my love of the dolls escalate back up to one of my top bands.
I got back from London, but I can't get my dick in the **** pump! Nooooo!
Matthew’s Response to “What’s Up With Brian?”
Your perversion never ceases to amaze me Brian. Why? Who cares. This isn't about me, it's about you. I heard about your plans to go grab yourself a nice pump, and it reminded me of my own twisted adventures into seedy "adult shops." How did it go you ask? Well, I have one thing to say. "My Ass Is Haunted" on VHS. I have never wanted to own a VHS so bad in my life. But alas, I always have the latest in technology and I quickly incinerated my hapless VCR once I bought my DVD player. It was kind of like that scene where the boy had to kill Old Yeller, except way more badass.
Whenever you use phrases like "Kitten witten has been quite well behaved" I can only imagine you mean that in the most perverted way. I'm still on the fence about that statement, Brian. If this is a convoluted sexual innuendo then I must say well done. If it isn't, then that was boring and you should talk about sexy things more.
As an Italian, I hate pasta shapes. All pasta is a vehicle for cheese, meat, and tomato sauce, so I've never really had a preference on shape. If I can eat it I'll eat it. However, you bring up an excellent point on pasta's use for decorating felines. As such, here's a picture to illustrate my point (see left).
And no, we no longer want to hear about yoghurts. Unless the yoghurt is really p0nx, we don't need to hear about it. Or if you had sex with it. And even then, it had better be strawberry yoghurt or another REAL yoghurt, we don't wanna bear about any bull**** flavors like peach of marionberry.
Good for you. I can't say I ever listened to the New York Dolls, seeing as how I'm only into EXTREME HXC BANDS, but I'm sure he was a great man. What was his nickname again? "The Living Statue?" That sounds pretty badass. It must be because he's like an immovable musician or that his music stands as a testament to the legacy they have left on the cultural force that is punk rock. Could it be because he never moves on stage? Naw, that's crazy talk.
Well Brian, I don't know what to say about the penis pump situation. Actually, I do not know what to say. Pix plz?
The Best Punk Albums to Get It On To
After months of searching for that special someone, you've finally found the girl of your dreams. She's intelligent, she's fun, and most importantly, she can tolerate to be around you for more than 5 minutes at a time. She's perfect. So you've been dating steady for a couple of hours, and you're ready to take your relationship to the next level. That's right, I'm talking about HOT SECKS.
So you've found a nice room with a bed/flat surface and you're ready to go. There's a CD player in the corner, and it doesn't look like it's broken. You see a stack of CD's next to the player and start thumbing through them. You've got some great choices for making sweet sweet SECKS. There's Led Zeppelin's 4th album, some porn music, some Motown, and there's piles of some good music too. You spot the Minor Threat Complete Discography, and since you're tr00 punx you want to play it, but you still feel like thumbing through the albums. There's some Black Flag, some Bad Brains, the Dead Kennedys second album, the "This Is Boston Not L.A." comp, and several others. After a few minutes of searching you finally get to the bottom. Jackpot.
You pick up a well played burnt copy of Die Kreuzen's self-titled LP. You've just found the greatest hardcore album of all time. You smash the rest of the albums because they pale in comparison to this piece of musical greatness you've just found (and you're also drunk and belligerent.) You pop it in, press play, and pounce on that special someone.
The first song, "Rumors", gives you a feel for the rest of the album. It's a mid-tempo hardcore song that introduces you to the evil guitar tone and the soul-scarring singing of Dan Kubinski, who has the most evil, screeching, ear-shattering voice. Even when singing slowly and quietly his voice sounds like the call of the grim reaper as he forcibly rips your soul from your chest. Perfect for getting your groove on. This would be a good time for some punx rock foreplay.
After the first song is over, here comes the song which truly immerses you into Die Kreuzen world. "This Hope" is poigant song about uniting against the forces of oppression, but you'll be hard pressed to notice this seeing as how Dan sings at 300 mph. You'll quickly notice how well the entire band locks up with each other, playing music as tight as the Gods of Punk themselves. This song clocks in at 1:06, and you'll almost want to press rewind to hear that song again. Except you won't, seeing as how you've got your hands busy, wink wink.
By now you're going to be doing some fairly inappropriate things that the church most likely wouldn't approve of. And as you're making Jesus cry you can listen to some great songs about all our favorite punk rock topics: school, crappy friends, dysfunctional families, violence, isolation from the world, Bourgeois pigs, and conformists, all in that order. While it's getting hot and heavy just remember to try not to keep rhythm with the music, you might find yourself quickly exhausted, unless you really are tr00 punx. But seeing as how you're pretty drunk right now just try not to pass out.
The album is interrupted by the 3 minute 31 seconds long song "All White." A powerful song about being trapped in your own world, you'll quickly see how this song MIGHT not seem very good for getting it on. That is, if this song weren't so God-damn punx that you almost feel like chucking a brick through the nearest government building's window. But remember, you're busy. Try to stay focused here, you're getting it on with a girl for the first time, so you wanna make sure you have inappropriate carnal relations with her again. As the end of the song draws near and it becomes noticeably faster and more evil you may feel the urge to start speaking Latin and proclaiming your love for Satan. Don't worry, this is totally normal.
The second half of the album basically follows the same formula as the first half: evil singing + trebly bass + fast drums + breakneck guitar = pure punk goodness. The songs will showcase even more of Die Kreuzen's skills as the greatest hardcore band ever to play music that scared middle class white people. Little children will run and hide when they hear this from half a mile away, which is good, since you don't want anyone interrupting your special time with the girl of your dreams.
As the album draws closer and closer to the end the lyrics continue to delve deeper into the bleak, the unforgiving, and the harsh reality that is life, all while you are making babies and bringing more pain and suffering into this world. Unless you were smart enough to use protection.
We'll have no names
No more brains
What is hope?
No more brains
And now…A word from our sponsors:
--Illustrated by DanRev
How Being Black Makes Me More Punk Than All of You
Now, a lot of you may be wondering where the **** I get off saying I'm more punk than you. Well, **** you, anarchy, oi oi oi, and all that cliché ****. The fact of the matter is, being black DOES make me more punk than all of you. I'm sorry, it's true. If this saddens or offends you, I couldn't give a rat's ass. Now, I'd have to have the biggest balls on the planet to make a claim like this without giving reason, so let me see if i can find some good ones.
1. While all of you were growing up in your privileged suburban homes, I shared a room with my 2 brothers in a tiny f*cken house in the ghetto. I’d end up wearing hand-me-downs and second hand clothes my parents got from random places. the f*ck you gotta say now?
2. It spent a year of working and arguing with my parents to get my first guitar, and it was the cheapest thing they could find on an internet auction site. Top that bitches.
3. Too young to go to shows or get money, I was too broke to even think about going out to buy punk records, so I had to go by scraps that I could find on the internet.
4. Being a little black kid who was forced to dress like either a nerd or a gangster by circumstances, I wasn't even accepted by local punk kids. Rebel rebel, motherf*ckers.
5. I had to take more **** than all of you about everything involved with being punk. On top of all the **** you all may get, I also get to enjoy 'why you act so white?' 'Do you even listen to black people music?' 'Why you always listening to that rock music?' 'Shouldn’t you be listening to rap?' GET MY POINT?!
While I’m sure you're probably too preoccupied wondering who I am to really read this, let me say this in closing. I'm more punk than you are, was, or ever will be. That might be hard for you to accept, but it's the truth. Thank you very much, enjoy your zine n sh*t. Up the Punx, whatever the f*ck that sh*t means.
Blackflag: So how did you get into punk rock music?
Collin: My sister started listening to Simple Plan and so did I.
Blackflag: Yes, but I asked about punk rock music.
Collin: Then she took me to Warped Tour and I got a program and started looking up those bands on the internet.
Collin: Yeah I wasn't done.
Blackflag: So, what were your early favorites?
Collin: Simple Plan, All American Rejects, Good Charlotte, and Green Day. Green Day really started me on this punk rock journey.
Blackflag: What was the hardest part of listening to green day?
Collin: Realizing that I'll never get to see them in a garage or a small club…and the haters.
Blackflag: Why did you join this website?
Collin: I used it for tabs when I was just starting out and found the forums one day
Blackflag: What has been your favorite thread in your UG legacy overall?
Collin: That I’ve made or seen?
Collin: Made was the Emo thread in PP&E, and overall was the punk rock trial thread.
Blackflag: Alright. Now keep in mind, this is the p0nx interview .Try and keep it real. Which parent do you love more?
Collin: I always keep it real. Haha. I’m a Momma’s boy at heart, but my dad is cool, too.
Blackflag: What's your favorite band?
Collin: Do you need to ask?
Collin: Want a top 5?
Collin: Jawbreaker, Discount, The Queers, Minor Threat, The Minutemen. That’s always changing though.
Blackflag: Do you watch MTV?
Collin: I watched the Real World up to Austin.
Blackflag: Favorite season?
Collin: They're all the same really. The one with two gay guys was good though. I don't remember which city that was.
And now a word from our sponsors…
--Illustrated by aXeslash
I guess it all started back in 63.
I was hangin out with Snoop D-oh-double-gee
When I had a flash of insight
A mirage, if you please.
It was half-past midnight
When it all became clear
My life seemed to all make sense
I was no long filled with fear.
I had always admired
That pizza delivery man
But I thought, man, forget it
It’s not in the plan
Of course I was wrong
And now I’m so right
Through the day, and through night.
It brings me such glee
To see you open the door
A gasp of relief
You almost fall to the floor
“Dead on the spot”
“Please, hand me the first slice, or I fear I shall rot.”
Of course I will, sir
But before I do.
That’ll be $15.87
“I forgot my wallet”
“It’s in the bedroom”
“I’m too weak to fetch it”
“Could you, kind sir?” I can feel certain doom
There’s something not right
Maybe evil, in here
But that’s probably the stench
Of the pizza and beer
I ran up the stairs
To fetch this man’s cash
When I feel through the floor
With a thunderous crash
My god! I exclaimed
I’ve been here for hours
It’s seemed like forever
Since I’ve taken a shower
But calm down, old pal
I talk to myself
This will all be explained
You’ll see, happy elf.
Suddenly I see
A crackle of light
Way off in the distance
Yes, this is right.
I crawl on my knees
And hands, and elbows
It seemed like forever
But now, (what the **** rhymes with elbow?)
The excruciating pain
Would cause a lesser man death
But I am a warrior
With every short breath
The light grows more dim
But I am getting more near
Could this be the end?
No it can’t be, my career!
Finally I’m done
I’ve crawled out of my hole
Only to find
I’ve been here before
This is not the same place
That I was before
I’m back at my home
Pizza man, at the door.
In Search of Wallace Part Two: A Tale of Two Murders
The sky opened up and rain poured down.
“Great, just what I needed,” I thought to myself.
Streetlight rain into the office and I started in that direction. I hear a soft moan coming from the alley.
Help me, Help me
I wander into the alley. “Hello, is there anybody here?”
Help me, Help me
I find a thin, dirty man huddled in a corner behind a trash can. “Who are you?” I ask. “I’m axeslash,” he responds in a weak, timid voice.
“Come into my office.”
“I’m too afraid to leave the alley.”
“Climb in through the window.”
I prop a garbage can against the wall, stand on top of it, and push myself through the window. Streetlight stands up when I fall into the room. He gets an even more confused look when aXe falls into the room.
“What’s going on?” Streetlight asks.
“I found him in the alley. He says that he needs us,” I say. I look to aXe, “Tell us your story.”
Axe looks around and speaks softly, “Wally is out to get me. I used to hang out with him at the ‘tr00 p0nx bar’. His sister was drunk, and so was I, and I wound up having ‘adult relations’ her, and he has been stalking me ever since. I can’t go anywhere; he has men all over the place. I tried telling what I know about him to the police, but he has a man inside the squad. I guess the mole told him and now he wants me dead even more.”
“We’ll do what we can, but I’m not sure what we can do,” Streetlight says.
“You’ll be safe at home; try to get some sleep,” I say.
We put aXe in a taxi.
“I guess we’ve got some work to do,” I say to Streetlight.
“Yup,” he responds.
A key turns, the tumblers roll, and aXe walks safely into his apartment.
“It’s not so scary, I should be safe,” aXe thought.
Axe walks into his kitchen, grabs a TV dinner, and throws it into the microwave. The phone rings.
Axe slams the phone. Sweat rolls down his forehead. The phone rings again.
“Stop calling me!!!!”
Axe fell over dead.
Streetlight and I walk up to a chaotic scene; firetrucks, an ambulance, and a trillion police cars. I spot an unfriendly face in the crowd behind the police tape. It was the chief of police, waterproofpie.
“What are you doing here?” she barks at me.
“We were working for aXe, and the girl who was killed earlier.”
“What do you know?”
“Wally got both of them.”
She got right up in my face. “You stay out of this. I don’t need you ruining this case for me!”
To be continued…
Tipping is a Ridiculous Practice That Should Be Abolished: A Rant
One thing I have never understood is the practice of tipping people for doing their jobs. We see it every day in restaurants, grocery stores, valet parking, hotel service, etc. The way the typical industry works is as follows: I’m paying my hard earned money to an establishment to provide me with a good or service, and that establishment is paying their employees to provide me with the good or service. In some industries, however, not only am I responsible for paying for what I want, I’m responsible for paying the majority of the employee’s salary as well. This is a backhanded, sneaky way for industries to rake in all the benefits of a job done while paying their works less-than-minimum wage.
Think about the following scenario: I go into a restaurant and order $45 worth of food for myself and my lovely lady friend (hell, maybe even two lovely lady friends that I’m going to take home with me later and make sweet sweet lovin’ to simultaneously). We are in there for about an hour being waited on and eating our food. The typical tip is now 18-20% for the food industry, and I’m a generous person, so I give 20% for a decent waiting job. Ok, $45*2/10 = $9. I just paid this waiter $9/hr to wait on my table. Compare this to the $3/hr or less the restaurant is paying this person to bring me my food and refill my drinks. Essentially, of the $54 I just spent at this restaurant (including the $9 tip), $42 is going directly back to the restaurant owner to pay himself, management, cooks and more food stuffs.
How about the following situation: I order a pizza from Papa John’s at the ridiculous price of $21 for a large pizza, and get it for delivery. Now tack on a $1.50 delivery fee, and the pizza comes up to $22.50. Now consider the fact that Papa John’s doesn’t give any of that $1.50 to the drivers (trust me, my roommate worked at Papa John’s as a driver, and he ranted about it a lot). This means that I need to front up a good enough tip to the driver so that they can replace the gas they just used AS WELL AS increase their pathetic wages they earn from working there. This would be $4.50 for a 20% tip on the pizza, and now I just spent $27 on a large pizza. Where did that $1.50 delivery charge go if not to the driver? Oh, I know, it’s a method of sucking the consumer of as much money as possible without the consumer even noticing because a decent portion is hidden away in surcharges and tipping practices.
I have a better idea. Why don’t we force companies to pay their workers a fair wage in ALL industries and eliminate this ridiculous tipping practice except for in exceptional cases where a worker really deserves it? Why not make delivery drivers be reimbursed for mileage to afford gas instead of putting that on the customer and letting the company owners reap in the benefits? Smash the oppressive tipping system and liberate the workers. Up da p0nx.
This Month in Ponx Athletixxx: The Olympics in Beijing
It’s that time of year again. No, not the time to watch your peers get sloshed at Dave and post pictures of said promiscuous behavior on Facebook. Oh, well, I guess it COULD be time to whip out the leopard print speedo…but I digress. This August will be the mark of 2008 Summer Olympics. With competition in 302 events, approximately 11,000 athletes from all over the world will travel to Beijing in order to represent their countries.
So what is so ponx about the Olympics?
A lot more than you’d think
Despite the obvious competition between nations, all participating athletes are working simultaneously to establish a higher apex of both physical and mental human abilities. This is made possible not only due to the desire to be the best representation of one’s country, but the desire to be the best human being possible.
Still don’t understand?
Here’s a mathematical breakdown:
America = Not so ponx alone.
Pushing the boundaries of human capabilities = Very ponx.
Still not convinced? In a move of pure jingoism, let’s study the profiles of three Olympic hopefuls for the United States of America.
Athlete #1: Dara Torres
Background: Dara Torres has been a favorite for making the US Olympic Swim team for some time. Later this week, she will participate in the Olympic trials this week where she will fight to reserve her fifth spot on the American Olympic Swim team (making her the first American swimmer to participate that many times). More importantly, she will also be fighting the hands of times. Despite being 41 years old, Dara Torres continues to compete at an elite swimming level. If she successfully lands a place in the Olympics this year, she will be the oldest female swimmer to ever compete in the Olympics.
So why is she so ponx?: Punching Father Time in the face = ponx.
Athlete #2: Chanelle Price
Sport: Mid Distance Running
Background: Currently a high school senior, Chanelle Price is the three time Pennsylvania State Champion in the 800m (half mile). A month ago at the Prefontaine Classic, she was clocked in at the second fastest female high school 800m run ever at 2:01.61. Additionally, two weeks ago Price was named the Gatorade National Girls Track and Field Athlete of the Year. This highly selective and honorable award is drawn by a pool of about 500,000 athletes annually and is based on athletic achievements, community service, and academics. Lastly, she recently qualified for the Olympic Trials which will occur later this week. By participating in the trials, Price has been one of few U.S. high school runners in Olympic history to qualify for Olympic Trials
So why is she so ponx?: Being able to compete against world class athletes with years more experience only a couple weeks after your senior prom = ponx
Athlete #3: Ryan Hall
Sport: Long Distance Running
Background: Shortly after starting running his junior year of high school, Hall placed third at the Footlocker National High School Championships (an achievement that many runners need years to accomplish.). After beginning college at Stanford University, he won the NCAA 5K event in 2005. One year later, he was named the U.S. Half Marathon champion. That same year, he set the U.S. 20K record. Moreover, one year later, he set the U.S. Half Marathon Record (59:43). As if that list of achievements wasn’t impressive enough, in 2007 he set the U.S. Debut Marathon Record (2:08:24) during his famous race in the London Marathon. Many believe that Hall’s ability to set new records in distance events in U.S. distance events will continue the legacy that Steve “Pre” Prefontaine left behind. Additionally, some running enthusiasts believe that Hall will be able to put the U.S. back on the world map in distance running by generating competition against such powerhouses as the East Africans.
So why is he so ponx?: Single handedly putting a country back up with most elite nations in a division of running = ponx.
Punx on Punx
This is aXeslash, your volatile punk rocker and zine columnist. I was given the opportunity to interview forum resident blackflag49, and I'm rarely one to pass up an opportunity to ask people questions that will possibly lead to confrontation and a scandalous interview. So what makes this punk so interesting? It could be his "in your face interface" or his ability to return from the graveyard that is known as the Land of The Banned. Whatever it is, we'll find out soon enough.
<aXe> So, what makes you, Blackflag49, so unbelievably awesome?
<aXe> Alright. So blackflag, when did you first start listening to punx rawk?
<blackflag> When i was 15 or so I liked Nirvana and grunge and listened to Damaged, and it snowballed. ^______^
<aXe> So what made you choose the name blackflag49? Why the 49?
<blackflag> My favorite number at the time was 7 and I thought a double-digit would have a better ring, so I squared it. :I
<aXe> So blackflag, would it be too outrageous of me to ask you waht your first name is?
<blackflag> Yes, and now this interview is over.
After some intense negotiation and subtle threats, I was able to get blackflag to agree to continue the interview.
<aXe> So blackflag, we all know when you joined from that little date underneath your Avatar. But more importantly, why did you join UG?
<blackflag> I saw a thread about the Melvins, and I wanted to partake.
<aXe> Interesting. So did you start posting in the Punk & Ska forum immediately or did you originally post somewhere else?
<blackflag> Punk & Ska immediately, to my recollection.
<aXe> That's rather punx.
<blackflag> I like to think so.
<aXe> Now, I have a bit more serious question for you: Pepsi, or Cola?
<blackflag> Coca-Cola has a nicer logo design. They both taste the same, so Coca-Cola wins out.
<aXe> So blackflag, what was your favorite thread in the Punk & Ska Forum?
<blackflag> Hmmmmm... I couldnt really say. They all sort of blend together into a collective UG experience.
<aXe> I'll chalk that up to the drugs and rabid hedonism.
<aXe> So blackflag, do you think you'll win any of the categories in the upcoming Punk & Ska Forum Awards?
<blackflag> I can say for a fact that I won't win anything. I read the thread. :I
<aXe> Do you think you deserved any award? Did you get any surprise votes?
<blackflag> "Not really" on both counts.
<aXe> Interesting. So blackflag, I know this next question may be a bit tough, but I want you to answer it as best you can. How did it feel to be banned?
<blackflag> The justice system was really unfair and the Moderator in question was emblematic of a corrupt, broken establishment.
<aXe> I see. And as a punk, do you feel that you fight for justice?
<blackflag> Not as a punk. As a human being.
<aXe> I see. If Henry Rollins and Keith Morris got in a fight, who would write the soundtrack to that battle.
<blackflag> Interesting question. I will say... Ennio Morricone.
<aXe> Excellent answer. Thank you for your time blackflag47.
Is it just me or are none of the pictures showing up?
That's because you can only see them in the word document that you can download in the aforementioned link :)
I downloaded the 'zine.
And all I can say is "*-)"
Everyone must download it. Like right now. Seriously. Do it.
Very nice job 'Tina, I loved this 'zine.
I think everybody's simultaneously downloading the word file because it's going sooooo slowwww
Everyone should download it because it looks sooo good.
Amazing job everyone
Haha, it was slow when I first did it too. The first site didn't work for me, but it worked for others. At the same time, the second one worked for me and not others. So just try both. If all else fails, feel free to IM me and I can send you the file :) (although I doubt it'll be a problem)
I loved it and will definatley contribute to the next one!
Except for the godfather review :mad:
Hahaha, nice, loved everything.
And wow, my poem is really ****ed up.
Haha I didn't even read the first zine until earlier today... Otherwise my section would have been a little less serious.
Whatever, I'm too p0nx for your silly quips and frivolous jokes! :mad:
Haha, it was a welcomed tone. We wouldn't want the whole e-zine to be a buncha dumb ponx jokes...
Jett, why must your story always blow mine out of the water?
I used to write those kinds of rants on a regular basis a couple years ago but randomly stopped... I think my girlie was getting a little sick of me ranting to her about stupid things like that all the time, so I decided to start back up with more writing and less jaw-flapping haha.
That was really funny to me for some reason.
Collin's Wally story was great. The first one was pretty good, but this one was amazing.
Cause your dick blows mine outta the water say what?
I really dig yours though so it's okay :)
I loved this one! I think it's way better than the last one was! Really p0nx rawk guyz, I approve. Twas a brilliant effort on all parts, and everyone deserve an awesome mention!
I'm way enthusiastic about this shit! Yay! Thank you so much Christina! It looks gorgeous!
EDIT: in reference to my story, with no fault on Christina as forums never support it (I've tried before), it's supposed to be centered (as it is in the actual word document, thank you so much Christina!) so if you want full effect read the word document, as that's how the formatting will be when I finish the book and "publish" it.
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