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College 101

Posted 24 September 2002, 6.06 am by Acheron

Maybe this is just another example of Hollywood and the media grossly misrepresenting a culture and an era. As they say, history is in the eye of the director.


There is still something strangely unsettling about university life: apathy. This is supposed to be the breeding grounds of change, where tie-dyed peaceniks, stoned on Marx, do something or anything to bring about some nebulous change. We don't even have that. A lot more thought goes into the fall fashion line-up than whether Bush will bomb Iraq. Hell, we spend more time arguing about brands of beer than we do about all political, social, or economic issues - combined. We're not even any better in our classes.

The "smart" students are too busy copying notes and playing the sycophant to think or raise pertinent issues. Get into Law/Business/Med. school.

The smart students are too busy hiding in the back of the classroom - or arguing over some irrelevent detail of punk culture. Go home and feed your escapist addictions.

The rest, of course, are just parts of the system. A giant hydra of CampusCrew and new outfits from Winners adorned with hoop earrings, platforms, and shell necklaces. Why fight something that tastes so damn good? My parents fought too hard in that office for the past 20 years, 9-5mon-fri, for me to fuck it up by not spending. I will not let the GDP take a dive to suit the commiepinkotreehugger desires of you scrubs.

Have they had us since day one, or has the complacency of today's youth been a hard-won battle? All of our ideals and sentiments: anti-war, anti-NAFTA/NATO/WTO/USA, and, with PC's saturation, anti-anti and anti-anti-anti. Anything. It's all so...


I can picture those goddamn executives, dug into the bottom line, wearing army hats and perpetual frowns. I can picture those goddamn politicians, stomping plants animals people like so many flaming bags of shit. I know it's wrong. I know that the youth know it's wrong.

So why don't we give a shit? Is this what happens when Boomer parents get so fucking concerned about the RRSPs that they teach their kids to worship money? "Shhh, don't talk about Kyoto, that $5 in your wallet has eyes, don't it?"

Maybe it was the sex. I mean, maybe all that revolution shit in the 60s was really just about horny college kids out for lovin. "The man" fought it and got burned. But now? The man sells it. Ours is an environment fueled by beer, pot, and latex, and their sales pitch doesn't deny it.

So who gives a shit about the environment, the world, the person sitting next to you? Have a Pepsi, it'll keep your note-taking legible until we get to the bar tonight.

Meet you there, beer in hand.

What do you know about dope?

Posted 23 September 2002, 6.36 pm by Craig

Visit Site.

How long can you hold the button?

Posted 23 September 2002, 6.33 pm by Craig

Visit Site.

More bullshit poetry. Woo.

Posted 23 September 2002, 1.11 am by Jake

here I am
waiting for my life
you’ve bought your freedom
as I’ve toiled for mine
you were just too good to stay behind
and as I sit now, thinking
of the way things could have been and
how they should be
while you’re living your life
one fast moment to the next
one slow lover to the next
one restless day to the next
and you are dying
think of me
ah, god, remember the times?
when we ran like children in the summer sun
oblivious to the big, frightening world outside
and now that we’re all grown and older
we ignore that which we lived upon
and work the rest of our jaded days
for nothing,
ah, sweet nothing
it's all we need
to be complete
it's nothing


Posted 22 September 2002, 7.17 pm by Berly

YES. The net offeres EVERYTHING! This service will set up a "chance meeting" with you and the object of your, get you started on that stalking career.

Coincidence Design

Prefer to obtain your stalkers via on-line profiles you create yourself? Been to Makeoutclub and have too many restraining orders against you? Why not start anew?

Lipstick and Cigarettes - or LnC for those in the know

Waste time! Have fun!

Posted 21 September 2002, 11.53 am by Alexander

Cheeky young grinder Booger was kind enough to send me this link, which is full of really quite classy flash games:

Aside from some heavy sponsorship by candy firms, it's all in all good fun. I was quite insulted by his inference that I actually HAVE spare time though. He will pay. Oh yes.

The reports of my Death were highly falsified

Posted 19 September 2002, 7.31 pm by Shaggy

First off, I guess I should make a formal apology for disappearing into a great, grand void. I apologize. That said, here's my post:

I realize I'm hiding. In fact, shaking like some weakling under the foot of a giant. Perhaps I am, under the foot of some giant that is.

Somehow, a thick melancholy spreads over me like a blanket. In my younger days, I used to float toward this blanket for warmth, for comfort. It was my escape, something that was my personal charicature. For whatever reason I flocked to it, I have become broken by it.

It haunts me.

Difficulties are spreading over my life. I am faced by the growing fact that the internet has begun spreading a different type of pornography: that of death. Out of fear and curiosity, I typed in "snuff" in a search field of a file-sharing program, and to my horror received 10 hits. A wave of pain and horror flew over me, and I thought I would crumble under the weight of my own skin. My heart lept into my throat and I started to shake. I knew that there was such a monstrous thing on the internet, my friends had previously told me. But I somehow refused to believe that murder was still being filmed, as if the populace wanted to get as close to it as they could while still remaining alive under its knife.

Something turns in me. Instead of a fear, a disgust is born. My teeth clench, my eyes turn to slits, and I bring my head up to the sky. I am a man, I have two hands, two feet and a mind. As long as I live, I will fight this thing called "murder."

I love life so much that it hurts when even someone I do not know is thrown away. I know september 11th is already over-emphasized, but it was the first monstrosity that occured in my new maturity. It was not only an insult to the families, it was an insult to me personally. Every murder is the Devil, making fun of me. Proving that I am insignificant.

Well, no more. I hold my head up high, and am prepared for anything that evil wants to throw at me.

Do not underestimate the power that I have. I am young, and my words will be heard. I am the biggest danger to those who would harm: I am a stubborn writer who will except nothing but to live in a world where I can live; I am a human being; and I am still in love.

The Devil has taunted me many times before. He has tried to discourage me through the hands and fists of others. I will not rest, I will not sleep. I will not turn my back away from those I know and love, I will face the Devil.

I believe in something better.

It is sad, but I would rather the whore of pornography. At least the whore is representative of pleasure and lust, not anger, violence and hatred. She is unavoidable, as we are bombarded by the whore when we open most magazines, when we turn on most television programs. However, the whore of blood can be avoided.

I turn my back on the whore of blood, and stare the murderer in the eyes. He has been in my dreams.

I spit in his face.

A Tribute To Small-Town Teen Angst (with a nod to e.e. cummings)

Posted 18 September 2002, 3.00 am by Jake

I’m dying inside.
Not physically, but men-tal-ly.
Too many things going awry in my life, too much #@$131/confusion!452*&^
I’ve been wasting all of my time trying to keep things in order
And put that which has c r um ble d back together.
Too much time accommodating others
and not enough time to dream,
to myself
All this static makes me want to scream, SHOUT, destroy things,
put a brick through the plate-glass windows of the school
burn all of my money, beat the shit out of all of my old friends
take a sledgehammer to
the new Mercedes Benzes that I’ll never want to own
get raving drunk and piss on the Capitol building
{curse behind the old ladies at church}
kick the fuck out of whiny kids crying about useless bullshit (wait, what?)
smoke pot in a local restaurant and stick my
-fingers up the teenage waitress’s skirt-
on a 2 hour-long car chase
and meet my own demise by driving off of a


I can be my own God.

At your service, anyway.

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This piece was inspired by Andy Warhol's famous 'marilyn monroe' piece in which the same picture is used several times to create a pattern. If you look closely, you'll realise there's a lot going on here with the detailed background against the simple pixelated images create a convergence which I thought would be nice to experiment with. It was created in Photoshop and took me 5 hours to perfect.

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80s candy bars were pretty good

only because i traded it for a candy bar in the 80's.

lol we all know you don't have a soul ghoti

my soul for some carbs...

But of course!

Yo ! Does this work ?


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