Untitled - Dirt Fondler Magazine

Hey kids! Do you like
Primus? Do you want to see
me stick my dick in Trent Reznor’s
eyelids? Do you like having shady drug
dealers as neighbors? Do you like techno
music? Do you like hip hop shows in cunty
hippy towns? How bouts current events? Then
you’ll love issue 6. I’m talkin’ real love, where you
want to hold it down, fold it in half, spit on it and
fuck it sideways. That’s how Eminem’s song should
go. Everyone in Detroit has an Eminem story. Yeah
fucking yeah, he used to mow your lawn, you washed
dishes with him at Gilbert’s back in the day, you used to shoot
pool with him and Kid Rock, whatever. No one thinks Em stories are cool in
Michigan because everyone’s got one. That’s why I moved to Atlanta last week.
Not for work, not for $$, not for love. I moved here so I can tell fictitious stories
about me and Em to young girls at shady dive bars. It’s been working out great,
they think I’m soooo cool. I’m crashing in a house down here, but I prefer to
call it Dirt Fondler’s Atlanta Satellite Office. Not bad, huh? Don’t worry,
Hump and Jew are still in Detroit, standing in the street on Saturday
nights wearing nothing but piss-soalked adult diapers. More on that
in the next issue. Now read away, we are a cross-country publication
and I have to get my suit dry-cleaned for a important investor
meeting tomorrow. Either that or eat ice-cream naked.
2
- DFEd, CEO of DF Publications’ South East District
I hate my neighbors. They drive their loud ass hoopty on my grass, blatantly
sell weed and let their kids run amok with no supervision. I swear to god, if
I find one more ball in my garden that’s been bricked off the milk crate that
they use for a basketball net, I’m going to make a vest out of one of the little
fuckers. It is for these reasons (and several others) that I will be building a
fence this summer. Not just any old fence, no, but as tall a fence as I can
possibly build, perhaps with some barbed-wire atop and some Berlin walllooking automatic machine gun tripwires and shit. What was that, neighbor?
Messiah didn’t come home last night? Well, let me check the kill zone. Yup, she’s in
here, all tangled up in my fucking wire and riddled with small arms fire. Sorry bout
that, neighbor. Hey, you gonna clean this hamburger off my barbs? Alright, so
maybe triangulated machine gun fire is going a bit too far with these houses
so close together, but as the saying goes: Good fences make good neighbors.
Who am I to disagree with such Wisdom? The barbed-wire stays though, so we
can be extra good neighbors. Fred Rogers would have wanted it that way.
3
I know what you’re thinking. Since the little fuckers are going to be all over my lawn and in my garden, I should put them to
work and offer them the tiniest amount of money that I have in my pocket without breaking a dollar bill. That’s not a bad thought.
I mean, I don’t particularly enjoy the raking of dead leaves or the mowing of live grass but if I let the neighbor kids do the yard
work, by the end of summer they will put my girlfriend out of a job. And you know as soon as the flood, no, cyclone gates open
and one child is in my yard, eventually, once they make enough money by taking work from my girlfriend and they’ll send for
their mother, then for the baby’s daddy, and finally for the rowdy-ass pitbull that has now learned to jump on the roofs of the two
non-functioning automobiles in their backyard. Once that bastard has hopped the fence I’ll have a hard time convincing my girl
to go outside and pull weeds for pocket change with the neighbor workers beating up English whilst being nipped at by an
inbred fighting dog. Then there are the disciplinary issues. When one of the ice-cream backs shanks one of my cats, someone is
going to have to meter out the beatings. It most likely will be me and I will be beating someone else’s kids as if they were my
own, sucking up precious energy that could be spent on beating my spawn (If I had kids, which, for the purposes of this crappy,
racist, babbling, sham of a political article, I do). And when they start squirting out babies like diarrhea because they don’t make
enough money to do anything other than the ol’ in-out, those illegitimate turds are going to have to learn how to tie their shoes
and wipe their asses and, surely, upon reaching school age, they’ll be sent to a public school for which my tax dollars pay.
In the mean time, I’ll be working less than I have in five years for less money while paying
for my own benefits and saving nothing for
retirement as the baby boomers suck social
security into nonexistence. Perhaps if the
neighbor kids wouldn’t destroy my shitty
fence and come into my backyard I
wouldn’t want to murder them. It is
the fact that they are illegally wrecking
my shit, in the only space that is mine,
that upsets me. Finally, after decades
of back-breaking manual labor picking
my vegetables for the minimalist of
pay it is fitting that death should
come at sunset by heart attack in the
fields, and when it does I will laugh.
Then I will cry, for I will have sold out
my one true love to save a couple of
bucks on the yard work. - Humphrey
4
5
It is my favorite time of any year, time for some fucking war!!! GET YOUR KILL ON,
BITCHES!!! That’s right, as we speak I am drinking a liter of shitty wine, watching
CNN, and gleeing over the exciting war that is taking place in the middle east.
The real war. Lebanon is getting the fuck bombed out of them by some silly kikes
(my people). Hezbollah fires missiles and rockets into Israel, Israel uses jets and real
bombs in Lebanon. It’s cool. Much cooler than the fake ass war that WE staged in
Iraq - the war that was more fictitious than the war on drugs. The war on terrorism
is kinda like Santa Claus; the only thing “real” about it is that it’s a REAL cruel joke.
This war, however, is the real thing – These people have hated each other forever.
This is what it looks like in Lebanon because Jews don’t fuck around.
No, they blow shit up. They are the reason Jesus died – do you think
that they are gonna fuck around with some cats that don’t even have a
decent army? As of now, Israel is getting hit by rockets from Hezbollah
militants after they kidnapped 2 Israeli soldiers. The kikes responded
with what you see in these pictures - pure, unfiltered death metal.
Jews like having scavenger hunts for the corpses of their families.
The U.S. gave the Jews tons of weapons.
Those smart little fuckers made the
weapons better and now they bomb
people. They even have nukes. Jews – gotta
love those cheap, backstabbing, pesky Jews.
So, here it is, the start of World War 3.
Yes, that’s right, either that or the Rapture,
I’m not sure which one yet but there is some gangster shit going
on in the world. Here is my prediction for how it all will play out.
The Jews get bored with Hezbollah and nuke Iran and Syria. The rest of
the sandnigger community gets mad at Israel and starts a war with them.
We help Israel and wipe out most of the middle east. North Korea nukes
Japan because the Playstation 3 is way to expensive. Russia gets mad
because they are still playing the Atari 2600 – they sell half of their
nuclear stockpile left over from the cold war to Cuba. After Fidel Castro
dies in his sleep from taking to much Viagra, Cuba nukes North Korea.
China gets mad at the Cubans and sends 300 million Chinese fuckers
that were all somehow related to Bruce Lee to invade Cuba. The Cubans
are karate-kicked to death, even the women and children thus wiping the
Cubans off the face of the earth (no more tire boat-rides to Miami). The US,
in response, nukes the country of Cuba and then takes on the Chinese.
Did jew hear that explosion?
We eventually win but it doesn’t matter because we are now looking at
70 years of nuclear winter. God comes down to earth to save us, realizes
that we are all dumb, says “fuck it”, and we either choke to death from
the nuclear fallout or starve because crops have a hard time growing when mushroom cloud
dust is blocking the sun. The Jews all commit mass suicide well before any of that goes down
and they all end up in hell for killing Jesus. At least that’s what Mel Gibson told me right
before he shotguned two beers and drove off. All’s well ends well. Get your fucking war on!!!
– Sincerely, Ejew Agavas (now available in italics)
6
It’s a big news day today.
I have just learned that the price of oil hit a record high today. The three dollar gallon
is the new two dollar gallon, yet Americans are using more gasoline now than they ever
have. Americans are not getting paid more and they are still expected to drive to work.
The price of crude oil is up a $1.76 a barrel based on speculation that some kidnapped
Israeli solders had been taken to Iran, which is a major player in the oil gig. Speaking of
Iran, Hezbollah Rockets and an alleged Iranian missile have hit Israel. Israeli forces have
bombed the Beirut airport runways in Lebanon and have said they will destroy Hezbollah
everywhere they are found, particularly in southern Lebanon. Israel says it is at war.
Israeli leaflets have been dropped into Lebanon urging civilians to flee from anywhere
Hezbollah exists.
A live cat with four eyes, two noses, and two mouths was born in Ohio.
The owner is thinking of naming it tiger.
7
Hamas, an admitted terrorist organization, is the democratically elected governing
body in Palestine. Hezbollah has two seats in the Syrian congress. The U.S. State
department has called Iran and Syria subcontractors for Hezbollah and their grudge
with the Jews. Both are allegedly supported by Iran. The Iranian president has said
that if there are any more such actions there will be a fierce response against the
Zionist regime by the Muslim world. The city that I send my taxes to, Detroit, is
in Wayne County, Michigan. There are 23 different Arab dialects in said County.
Should Americans be worried or should we just turn on our video game consoles
and fight a simulated war and ignore the one on the television?
One of these things
is not like the other...
Valerie Plame has sued Dick Cheney, Carl Rove, Scooter Libby and ten unnamed people for
violating her civil rights, destroying her career and endangering her family. Rove was found
to have leaked her name and identity as a CIA officer to the press three years ago, a fact that
at the time was kept behind a tight lip due to the impending election. Plame’s husband was
a former ambassador.
I keep reaching for a bong on the floor thinking its my natural cola.
Mexican gunmen last night have fired some 300 shots from automatic weapons over the Rio
Grande at Texan sheriffs and border patrol agents. It is believed that they then crossed the
border. Federal laws against illegal immigration are not enforced by the federal government.
2,545 American troops have been killed in Iraq. 18.874 have been wounded. The violence
between Sunni and Shiite factions is rising. Don’t forget about Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda,
or Kim Jong Ill.
There are raging infernos in Morongo valley in sunny California. 40,000 acres destroyed
by one fire that may merge with another fire that has consumed more than that already.
The sheriff has issued Mandatory evacuations for residents the San Bernardino area. The
smoke has been seen from satellites in space but America is too busy using MySpace to care.
- Humphrey
8
Somewhere in your local supermarket there is a yellow piece
of tupperware with a logo printed on the top that says “Lloyd’s
Shredded Pork”. This shit is amazing, and it is usually under
$4. You put a few spoonfuls of this wonder-meat on a paper
plate and toss it in the microwave for one minute, stir it up,
nuke it for another 35 seconds or so and slap it on a hamburer
bun. Bam, instant goodness. Oh, and fuck lettuce, tomatoes
and those other pansy condiments, I wants me a man-snack.
One canister of Lloyd’s shredded pork can make about 5 of
these sandwich treats. I don’t think Jews can eat pork, so I get
kind of bummed when I hear about the “chosen people”
getting bombed the fuck out and shot up - I’d rather see
those bombs and bullets used on people who DO eat pork.
Then there will be more Lloyd’s shredded pork for me. - DFEd
9
Every year, just a few weeks before memorial day weekend, my
thoughts tend to wander. I start to think about my “whiteness”,
and being a white man myself, I reflect on how my people have
accomplished quite a bit. We landed on the moon. We invented
computers. We ushered in the industrial age. We create complex
forms of government that numb the effectiveness of a potentially
dangerous public while filling the trunks of our Mercedes’ with
bags of cash all along the way. Damn, I say to my pale self, us white
folks have our shit on lock. Then, like a plague who’s color seems to
negate my own, the Detroit Electronic Music Festival rolls through
my city and makes me realize that white people are pathetic
attention grubbing brat-fucks that actually ENJOY taking the
gayest drugs available, congregating in massive numbers in a central
area and listening to music so bad that the “Fest” for it’s genre is
held in Detroit. I mean, even Milwaukee gets a brutal Metal Fest,
and what the fuck is Milwaukee? Exactly. At the Detroit Electronic
Music Festival, or DEMF, or the Tech Fest, or Movement 06’, or
whatthefuckever name the local piss-publications have decided to
dub it this year, everything that makes me ashamed to be not only
white but human is on display. Shitty tattoos. Unattractive loose
women. “Ravers” dressed up like mythical retardo-creatures that
seem to be a cross between a neon toxic waste accident and some
kind of deformed anemic fairy. Homeless people selling drugs so
shitty that the shit quality of their drugs is most likely responsible
for their homelessness. I wouldn’t have gone at all considering that
there has been a steady decline in overall quality since DEMF started,
but alas, I write for this magazine and dumb white kids + me and
my camera = material for the magazine. At least they are making
my job easy. Oh, wait. I don’t get paid for this. Fuck.
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Fuck all that though,
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ed a “3” in his head
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Anyway, his new nam
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bless you, Eju.
r this ugly techno-fest
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ith Humphrey’s clipp
his porch thru the fro
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e marriage. I’m still w
aiting.
10
11
First: the cups. We had a shitload left over from the Easter cupping (see the last page of Issue 4)
and we are all WAY to cheap to let them go to waste. We decided to hit the first walkway
over the Lodge just South of 94. Plenty of Techno-Loving faggots should be coming into
the city from that direction during the next few days. Perfect. It took the five of us about
six minutes to create the work of art displayed above. No sooner did we finish than the
police academy drop-out security fuckguard tried to shoo us away - Eju jumped on that one.
He loves using a combination of excessive volume and ebonics to let people of authority
know exactly why he thinks they should go home and kill themselves instead of telling
him what to do. We used to skate downtown a few years back and Jew would always
spend more time screaming at the Detroit cops than he would on a skateboard.
That’s probably why I can do fakie varial flips and he can fight good - we’ve all got our
specialties. Anyway, we bolted from the bridge and headed South to Heart Plaza - the
unlucky ground zero for “Movement 06” which was set to kick off the next day. What
a stooopid fucking name for a festival, “Movement 06” sounds like a gay pride march
or some affirmative action seminar. Why in sam hell can’t they just call it the techno fest?
Or the cracker carnival? How bout the Honkey Hullabaloo? Whacky Whitey-stock?
Casper-Bash? Detroit officials shouldn’t even be allowed to name their own kids.
I was supposed to go down to the Techno Fest once. Only once. It was going to be on Sunday
night – Humphrey and I along with a gang of rowdy kids from all over the country were scheduled
to attend. I somehow ended up going down there three times in three days while Hump hoe’d
me the fuk out and never showed at all. Bullshit. Anyway, our adventures started on Friday night.
The festivities kicked off the next morning but we had some prep work to do. Humphrey, his girl
Danni, Eju, his woman, and myself all piled into my small ass car and headed out.
We spent a shitty half-hour looking for a parking spot before finding one that was technically a
driveway, but it looked as though it was not in commission. As soon as we stepped out of the car,
a bum, who was coming from a near-by alley which reeked of fresh human doodie, started to give
us shit. “You’s can’t pahk heah! Way ya’ll fruum?” 3Jew quickly countered, “We ain’t from the
fuckin’ suburbs, if that’s what you’re askin”. Jew then proceeded to tell the box-dweller what part
of the city he was from, what hospital he was born in and even what high school he claimed to
attend. We all new Eju was quick, but his speed on this one was impressive - I was in awe of the wit
of the Jew. Within 2 minutes the bum was practically sucking his cock talking about how our car
would be “just fine” where it was. The interaction between the two resulted in a 15 minute lecture
from 3jew on how to handle ghetto folk even though nothing he said could be taken seriously with
that shitty haircut. His speech took place in the poo-scented alley mentioned earlier. We all listened
on his tips on how to avoid getting your windows smashed in by bums as myself, his underage
girlfriend and Danni shared a 40. Apparently there is one thing you should never say to a shady
muthafucka who confronts you - “What?”. You always have to come quick with a response.
I would prove my suburban whiteness later that night by saying “What?” to some Dee-troit basketball lovin’ gangsta who was rearing to whoop my face with his fists. We’ll get to that in a bit.
12
LEFT: Paul and Eju do not play games
when it comes to the safety of their ladies.
When they go out in public, they sport
matching black shirts and camo shorts
while forming a circle of impenetrable
protection around the females. When
I pulled Eju aside and told him it was a
little much, he frowned, looked down and
silently said “How else am I gonna get in
to the East Point Militia?”. I didn’t have
the heart to tell him that they don’t let
Jews in. Or that they don’t exist.
We went through the usual routine; stickers on every trash can and
lamp post in site. The entire complex was circled - every entrance
was sealed tighter than an embezzling accountant’s ass on the first day
of jail. Fences, 24 hour security, the whole nine. We did what we could,
Eju ran interference with the security guard for a good 20 minutes
while Danni slapped Dirt Fondler stickers and cards all over a statue
by the river that was honoring the participants of the underground
railroad. What? It’s not like it was as cool as Amtrak or anything.
13
On our way back to the car I snapped a bland picture of everyone walking
down the street. Whatever, it’s digital, so shoot away, right? That’s what
I thought. Then, out of nowhere some brotha comes waltzing up to me
talking about “Why the fuck are you taking my picture, bitch?” with his fists
all clenched. I turned around, quite confused, and said “What?”. Shit, I had
just broke Eju’s “Don’t say “What?” to balsy blacks who enjoy confrontation”
rule. Eju, who was on his cell phone, was all “Don’t walk up on my boy like
that” to the guy, then he turned and continued talking into his cell phone.
Haha. This belligerent fellow continued insisting that I took his picture and
I adamantly denied it, screaming all kids of “What the fuck are you talking
about? I did not take your picture.” He was all up in my face, and while I’m
not all that worried about my face I am worried about my expensive ass
camera equipment getting gaffled. Fuck that. At that point, Paul and Danni
were yelling at the guy too, but he just continued starring at me without
blinking. I’m down, I thought, recalling those brutal starring matches that I
had won back in the sixth grade. The dude wasn’t even that big, 5’8” tops.
To think he was going to go head to head with five people (including two
girls who are both tougher than me) would be kind of dumb on his part.
This shit continued until Jew finally stepped in and the brotha eventually walked
away without attempting to smash anyone’s face in. Later on at the Dirt
Fondler office (my old apartment) I discovered that I did indeed take his
picture. See that shadowy figure in the background in the photo on the left?
Hold up, I’ll blow it up for you. See now? That grainy lump of pixels vaguely
resembling a person? Yeah, I took his photo, what the fuck of it? It’s photos
like this which are void of facial features and definition that are submitted
to the police during crimes resulting in racial profiling - a policy that I’m
now down with after this little run in. I think it’s all karma, really. I mean, we
did put Dirt Fondler stickers on statues commemorating the underground
railroad. Unfortunately, now I can’t listen to Jay-Z without nervously looking
around for my camera bag. Thanks, random black guy, for ruining Hova’s
music for me. I only hope that I ruined At The Gates for you.
14
The picture below covers the bulk of the festival;
middle class people from the suburbs, mostly white, making their annual venture in to Detroit so they can claim they’re “Down with
the city”. Of these crackers, who usually fall into the 18 – 25 demographic, a good 90% are dressed in normal civilian gear from the GAP.
They aren’t into techno (sorry kids, but buying a “Prodigy” CD in 1998 does not count), so why the fuck did they come down to
Hart Plaza on this hot ass summer day? They came because they are people watchers and they want to see that small piece of the pie
chart, the other 10% of the attendees. The freaks. The attention whores. The break dancers, the glow stick twirlers, the scene kids and the
goth fags. Imagine thousands of suburb folk walking around, looking like they are searching for their misplaced car keys, much like every
god damn person walking up the stairs in this picture. When they spot a “freak”, they turn to the people they are with and say “Wow, look at
that one! She has piercings in her back with ribbons through them! Oh, look! That one has a neon mohawk and cool tattoos!”. It’s like
going to the fucking zoo but instead of polar bears and rhinos, everyone’s looking for those wacky scene kids who had parents that didn’t
understand them. Well, they came to the right fucking place. It’s too damn hot outside, so stay home and sit on your computer in your air
conditioned house because Dirt Fondler has your “freak watching” on lock. You can thank us with financial contributions and sexual favors.
15
STAGE 1: The “Main Stage”. The DJ
above was dumb enough to bring
turn tables and spin wax while the
moby-looking bookworm pictured
underneath him simply opened his
Mac PowerBook and clicked “play”
on his iTunes. Surprisingly, the kids
on acid couldn’t tell the difference.
STAGE 2: The stage by the water - this
stage has been clean for years after a
vicious drug binge in 86’. That’s why
it hosted actual music and refused
to participate in the Techno Fest.
STAGE 2: Underneath Hart Plaza.
Far Right: Keep black hands on
turntables and away from my car.
Below: Drink plenty of 50 Cent’s
vitamin water if you’re on X, or if
you just sweat profusely from your
gross armpits while spinning records.
16
Breakdancing at a techno-fest? Who would’ve guessed? Remember when
swing dancing was cool for a month or so about a decade back?
The “30 Something” crowd would take swing dancing lessons and
purchase Mighty Mighty Bosstones CDs. I wish breakdancing would take
a cue from swing dancing and do the jitterbug right out of the public eye.
17
Crazy ass SW Tranny w/ 8” cock looking for bi SWM interested
in busing my legs, applying too much terrible makeup to my
hit face and digging through Lover’s Lane dumpsters looking
for lingerie. Willing to hand out flyers for your band at local
events. I also enjoy cigarettes and vitamin water. Why don’t
we get together, get some one-color tattoos and see if sparks
fly like the sunlight glistening from my pearl necklace.
ABOVE: In Detroit core values such as violence, firearm use and intimidation
through weaponry are instilled at a very young age. This lil’ broad tells some
raver kid run his pacifier like an errand. RIGHT: Bitches can break dance too.
Fucking women’s lib. I think the three techno lovers that took a break from
swapping Chemical Brothers LP’s to watch the dancing have
never seen a woman naked - I love the way they are straight up
gawking at her ass. I hope their fathers see this and beat them
for being timid faggots. CENTER: When laying out graphics
for a techno article, cliche images of DJ’s spinning records
and playing with faders make fabulous space fillers.
18
RIGHT: The singer from Smash Mouth gets his Shrek panties in a bunch
as he catches me taking shots of his lady friend’s giant titties. Hey there,
little boobie! What are you up to? I love my Nikkor 300 mm telephoto
zoom lens. BELOW: I never thought I’d catch Dick Tracy
in action! Look closely, see him to the left in full “surfer boy” disguise
talking into his wrist watch radio? He’s tailing the evil “Tie Bandit”,
a vicious villain who has robbed the hippies of their tie-die shirts and
wears them at techno fests in a foul attempt to associate tie-die with
bad techno music. Sorry, Tie-Bandit, but those ugly ass shirts will always
be associated with hippies. Dicky Tracy’s gonna wreck you all up.
CENTER/LOWER RIGHT: I told you cliche images of DJ’s spinning
records and playing with faders make fabulous space fillers.
19
All of Eju’s years as president of
the debate team pay off as he
lets a Hart Plaza security guard
know how he feels about the
venue being fenced off.
20
Ahhhhh kids, I smell bad drugs and gay sex.
How did it sneak up on me so quickly? Glowing
lights. Electronic music. Glow sticks. DRUGS!!!!
My beef with this weekend event, an event
held at Hart Plaza, the beautiful strip of land that
overlooks Windsor by the beautiful Detroit
River where hardly one of these fucktards will
ever visit on a normal day, is pretty much just that.
No one gives 2 shits about Hart, Detroit, or how
beautiful it is. Then, Friday night Hump, DFEd,
Danni, Nicole, and I go down there to plaster
stickers everywhere and hand out cards and cd’s,
and the fucking place is fenced off. Since fucking
when does Hart plaza get fenced the fuck off?
Well, finger me in the ass. Ain’t this about a bitch.
A big special fuck you goes out, first and
foremost to, the city, Kwame Kilpatrick, the
organizers, Big Boy, Real Detroit, and the other
sponsors out there. Fuck, I can understand
that funds are low and that the event can no
longer be free to the public as it has been in
the past. That’s cool. I understand that there is
millions of dollars in equipment and that it
needs to be protected. But shit, you can put that in
Hart Plaza’s loading dock where all the cars park
underneath. You could just fence the equipment
off. You don’t need the whole fucking place
fenced off. There is a pig station right at the end
of the boardwalk for Christ’s sake. And where did
the patrol cops come from? Straight out of
Detroit’s neighborhoods. Great. So there are less
cops in the hood, it’s fucking 90 degrees and you
are gonna pull Detroit cops out of neighborhoods
so a bunch of silly looking white kids can make
out, dance, and wave glow sticks in the faces of
sober people while listening to shitty ass music?
“Hey, whaddup, bro? Wanna score some x?”
“Fra sho, fra sho, I spent all my money on
plastic neon jewelry tho. Hows I swap ya one
of my Massive Attack remix discs for two hits?”
“That’s tight. KaChink, done, son.
Hey, you wanna make out or something?”
“Yeah, but don’t let my girlfriend see. I don’t
want to blow my masculine image, but I do
want to blow your masculine image, ya dig?”
ABOVE: Caucasian adolescents like these make it possible for bands like Godsmack and
Disturbed to pay their mortgages. BELOW: White kids partying like it’s 1999 by the stage
underneath Hart Plaza. Let’s keep techno music underground. Then seal the exits.
21
OK, don’t get me wrong, all techno is not
shitty, but lets face it, any retard with Down’s
Syndrome and Fruity Loops can make techno
beats - it ain’t that difficult. My mom can do
it and she likes Kenny G. Then there’s the
temporary drug dealers. “Hey man, I’m fucking
rolling, you want some x? You want some acid?”
Fuck no, I don’t want your shitty ass drugs. Would
you like my dick in your ass? You down with gay
man on man anal fucking? I didn’t think so.
You’ve got all these retards on the verge of
having a fucking seizure asking you if you
wanna buy drugs and I gotta pay $20 to just
get in? Yeah, no, fuck all that. I am not even
participating in that garbage this year unless
Jesus Christ himself and Fat Boy Slim were
doing a dueling DJ set, stark fucking naked,
while drinking 40’s of Colt 45. Then I would go.
No, I will leave it to DFEd to provide coverage
this year. I’m sure the pics will speak for
themselves. Damn, I hate white people.
22
ABOVE: Birds are very intelligent beasts. They have insane control
over their bowels. They can even shit on lolly-pop toting ravers from
hundreds of feet above. Luckily there are Dirt Fondler business cards
to scrape off bird poo. Don’t laugh, this is how I met your mother.
CENTER: Detroit police let a senior citizen know which scene
kids will fork over the most cash for her prescription meds.
UPPER RIGHT: Some girls are so conceded that they will only be seen
in public with guys who look exactly like them. I love photoshop.
LOWER RIGHT: If I hear one more goth fag tell me that they dress that
way because they are “expressing” themselves and it has nothing to do
with attention, I’m gonna take away their sequins for being ugly liars.
Homeland security. Who the fuck cares? New York cares. Rightfully so. Detroit? No concern
whatsoever. I guess don’t blame them, there were no planes flying into the Renaissance Center on
9/11. Most Detroiters are too dumb to know that New York is even part of our country - it could be
fucking Bolivia for all they know. You’d be surprised how many Detroit residents think that there
are 52 states in our country if you count Hawaii and Alaska. Kwame made it very clear that
homeland security in Detroit is a fucking joke. Let’s examine the security at DEMF, not even
five years after 9/11. Since its inception, DEMF has always been free to the public. Not this time
around, buddy. Detroit started charging $20 for entry bracelets. PER DAY. After realizing that the
festival was lame, attendees would exit the event and discard the bracelets into the nearest trash
receptacle. Then, wandering gypsy children, such as the girl in the photo to the right, would pull
these bracelets from the trash and sell them to bastards like myself for $10. They would re-fasten
the bracelets and then run away to spend the money on something other than soap and
toothpaste judging from their odor. I took my hot bracelet and made my way to the main entry
point on Jefferson. The first entry point didn’t work so well. I’ll give it to the security guard, he
caught the small break in my entry bracelet (see enlarged image to the right). I got in a yelling
match with him because I wanted to be cool like 3jew. I eventually told him to
“GO BLOW HIMSELF” as loud as I possibly could. He was a big back dude
and I was holding up a line of about 100 white kids with my antics. When
some dumb cracker like myself tells a proud brotha to “go blow himself”
in front of 100 or so of my peers, it pisses him right the fuck off.
He was seething. He wouldn’t do shit though, and I fucking new
it, because it is hard as fuck to find work in Detroit and I knew he
wasn’t going to give his shit up over some piss-ant like myself.
Regardless, round one goes to Kwame’s city.
I soon found out that there was a secondary entrance on the
riverfront. I walked around the plaza and found a single security guard
blocking an entrance. No line at all. I waltzed up and held up my wrist
backwards so he couldn’t see the break in the bracelet. “Open your
bag.” he barked, right before eyeing my Dirt Fondler press pass. Let’s
chill for a second so I can fill you in on my press pass. It has a picture of
me in a bathrobe, drinking a 40, and says “This pass grants me entry into
pussies, mouths and cunts everywhere” with the Dirt Fondler logo topping
it off. It was laminated using a machine that is older than you, then I
trimmed it with scissors. Anyway, the security guard looked at this and said
“Oh, I don’t need to see your bag. You have a pass, you’re cool “. I shut my bag
before he ever looked inside and walked right in to the event with a used
bracelet. I could have pulled a Humphrey and smuggled military grade tear gas
into the event or even several small firearms. Security is a joke in Detroit.
Once inside, I used my bullshit pass to get whereeverthefuck I wanted.
23
Take a look at all the pictures on this page. How do you think
I got “backstage” at the DEMF? I walked right up to the
security guard who was manning the stage entrance. He took
one look at my fake ass press pass, thought about the $7 or
so that he was making each hour for standing in 90° heat and
said “Oh, you’re cool”, then stepped aside allowing me
complete access to equipment, performers and coolers full of
Vitamin Water, who, judging from the massive banners and
signs plastered all over Hart Plaza, was most definitely a prime
sponsor of the event. Just think, some hot chrome in my bulky
camera bag and I could have been famous for assassinating
some third rate DJ from Denmark. Instead I’ll have to go
down as the last US citizen without a MySpace account.
24
25
If you only have
fifty cents and find yourself in
need entertainment, just hit the streets and find a
crazy homeless person. They will probably try to sell you a small
American flag attached to a toothpick for some change, but you
tell him to put that flag away and start jabbering. Give him your
two quarters and sit back - it’s story time. Most bum tales include
aliens or rouge government factions that are out to get them.
Some of the crazy bums even scribble their story on a piece of
their cardboard house, rip it off and display it around their neck.
The fellow shown here had a legitimate story up until the part
about the CIA was out to get him and his nonexistent treasure.
He completely blew his credibility. Sometimes bums have to
compete with other blemishes of society. Look at the picture in
the upper left. The dreads and goggles on the main subject rob
the bum in the background of attention. Beggin’ ain’t easy.
LEFT: I can see what’s really going
here, I’d know those glasses anywhere.
After X-Men III tanked in the box office,
Cyclops got a sex change and hid out
at DEMF. Scott Summers is a pussy,
and now he has one, too.
BELOW: Everyone here at Dirt
Fondler has at some point in their
lives worked at TGM Skateborads in
St. Clair Shores. The kids who started
Konquest cloths are no exception - we
are all old TGM niggers (an actual
term coined by the owner). Matt, Joe
and Joe’s main pincushion for the night
all celebrate the kickoff of the Konquest
clothing line in hopes to leave their
TGM days in the dust. The graphics:
Kwame with antlers accompanied
by angels with shotguns? I’ll take an
XXL in yellow, please. I wonder if they
charge Detroit tax on shirt sales.
The irony makes me giggle.
26
27
UPPER LEFT: Hey there, Angel. Did it hurt? When you fell
from heaven, did it hurt? No, actually it felt fucking glamorously great-tastic because you were rollin’. Speaking of rolling,
what do you call Magic Johnson rolling down a hill? Huh?
Rollaids! Oh, you heard that one? Well, I heard you have AIDS.
Go in the bathroom and check. If your pee is yellow,
you’ve got it. Bad. ABOVE: Why does this jockface get to
make with the touchy-feely up on some female’s tight little
ass while I’m at home jerking it to internet porn? Because
I’m lazy and I hate sports. I win. UPPER RIGHT: Is that
poison ivy on his back or passionate sex cuts? You decide
while I finish vomiting from looking at nasty chunky gothic
beach party ass. Instead of cutting your boyfriend maybe you
should try cutting carbs, honey. LOWER RIGHT: When I told
this guy with the Tribal tattoo that Max Cavalera had left
Sepultura years ago, he yelled “It’s not fucking true! Soulfly
is a hoax!!” and beat on my face for seven minutes straight.
LOWER LEFT: People poop in there. It’s true, I’ve seen it.
28
We say goodbye to the shitty-music-fest with the greatest picture ever taken at Hart Plaza. Who pays $20 just to
get into Hart Plaza and play chess? Dedicated residents and chess fanatics, that’s who. These two brothas would
probably be here on any given day - a level of persistence that does not falter in the face of techno music. I love how
they are quietly kicking ass at chess in the midst of drugged up freaks and googly-eyed pedestrians. You can even see
the entry bracelet on the guy’s wrist. Look at him destroying that dumb cracker, he’s got almost all of his white pieces
alive and kickin’ on that chess board. Techno kids don’t even know proper fork tactics let alone castling techniques.
They should know their role and stick to Tetris. Fuck off techno fest, I won’t be seeing you again next year. - DFEd
What does a Jewish accounting firm have in common with
the Mr. Lif/Cage show that went down at the Blind Pig in
Ann Arbor the other night? They both have a 400/1 white
to black ratio. I don’t usually go to hip hop shows, but I did
not expect to see so many white kids - I almost mistook it for
a Grosse Point youth group meeting. I’m kind of confused.
If things have changed this drastically and all the crackers
are at hip hop shows, I’m wondering if the audience of next
week’s Slayer/Children of Boredom show is going to be
predominately gangsa folk of African decent. I mean,
Kerry King has been known to rock a Oakland Raiders
Jersey, and if you do your homework and take in a few
NWA music videos you’ll see that coloreds love them
Raiders Jerseys. I’m guessing the concert will be full of em’.
Oh, wait, Sevendust isn’t playing. Nevermind.
29
I was drunk before we were even on our way to the show. Nothing makes you forget about a week
of work quicker than forty ounces of King Cobra - all for less than the price of a king size candy bar.
I picked up Eju and his Girlfriend - Ju drove for two reasons: I was getting drunk in my own back seat
and secondly, when ever I drive and Eju is in the car he fears for his life. He gets all loud and serious,
telling me shit like “I can’t die because I have a son, stop driving like a fucking retard”. I, however,
do not have a son so I drive like a reckless dick at all times. Really, that’s what “full coverage” is for.
FAR LEFT: Eju and Tone bursting with smiles
and sunshine. LEFT: Cage practicing his
“I’ll slit your throat and fuck the wound” look.
30
I killed the rest of the 40 and ate fist fulls of sexy-ass pepperoni combos while waiting for Tony to
get the fuck out of his house. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but Ann Arbor is a good 45 minutes away
and Tone, one of Eju’s good friends, is opening so we all kinda wanted to get there a minute or two
early. Unfortunately, we hung out in Tony’s yard for a good half hour or so because my faggot ass
had to have him burn me a copy of the KT Tunstall cd. What? Fuck you, it’s good. Tony’s laptop is
as slow as a retarded Eskimo which gave me plenty of time to get drunk in broad daylight and watch
Eju “accidentally” punch his girl in the gut. Hey, she was asking for it. I would have taken a picture
but I was too busy drinking - sorry. Finally, Tony come out with my pirated CD and tells me to move
my car in the driveway. Let me put this out there: I don’t drive a large car. I like small cars - I bought
the smallest car that I could find. Still, drunk as fuck on a Friday evening well before the sun went
down, I managed to hit a garbage can, two rocks and three curbs while moving my little car from
the front of Tony’s house into his driveway. Eju just stood there shaking his head, knowing fully
that I was actually trying my best to drive as well as I could. I fucking suck at life. And driving, too.
FAR LEFT: Car rides are boring enough - listening
to people talk about sports doesn’t help.
LEFT: Jew whips his nut
nuts out for a Mercedes with
a plate that is two letters away from “METHLAB”.
I won’t tell if you won’t.
The ride to the show was as boring as watching Catholic people having sex. Tony and Eju realized that they both
were gullible enough to think sports were cool so they talked about draft picks and coaches for the entire ride while
I kept eating combos and contemplated pissing into an empty Arizona tea bottle. I’m a simple kind of man. We
finally get to Ann Arbor after getting directions from some free information hot line - check it out - 1-800-FREE-411.
They don’t charge you a fucking thing for calling. Try it. Anyway, Ann Arbor is a huge hippy town. Being vegan,
hating republicans, loving members of the same sex; these are all requirements for Ann Arbor residents. You actually
have to take a test to verify that you are better than everyone else just to live in the city. Eju was all about buying a
house there and putting a sign in the yard that says “Bush 2008”. Funny, yes, but I wouldn’t fuck with hippies.
They will throw Molotov cocktails through your windows and recycle the glass from the bottle after it explodes.
We got to the show on time after passing 70 or so coffee shops in a single city block. The only reason a city could
ever need that much coffee would be to keep it’s citizens awake as they had meaningless political conversations
for hours on end - BORING AS FUCK. On to the show. We got there right when the doors opened. I didn’t bring
my camera, I didn’t think I would have been able to bring it in. I was fucking dead wrong - you could have
been a middle-aged Arabic man with a Jansport wired to a trigger device and they would have let you right in.
Eju and I did manage to pick up some disposable cameras for $10, so “you’re welcome” for all of the grainy-ass
lifeless images accompanying this article. After ordering two $1.75 bottles of High Life I watched the first act.
I was more into the dude’s shirt than the music, it was screaming about “Punk is dead, Emo kids are next”
or something of the sort. I’m not really into rap, but Tony is constantly burning me DVDs full of all kinds
of music and lately I have found myself enjoying Cage, MF Doom and Ghostface more than the shit that
I’d usually listen to. Maybe I’d care about metal if Meshuggah started doing PCP and writing songs
about how they sell cocaine called “my spot is hot” but I don’t see Nuclear Blast going for that. Damn.
31
After the fist act, Eju’s boy Tone came out.
He raps under the name Metasyons. He used
to come to Jeff Nonsense shows and get
rowdy as hell right along with the homeless
punk kids. He would always call me a Nazibitch and give me shit for having red shoe
laces in my boots and a shaved head, but
inside, I just wanted the punk kids to think
I was an angry, tortured, twisted individual.
In reality, I’m a rather stable, reliable young
man with many goals and aspirations who
works hard to achieve them, but something
tells me the kids at Jeff Nonsense shows
aren’t down with that. Moving along, Tone
finally came on, and to be honest, he was
damn good. I was impressed and I tried to
tell him that later but all that came out was
drunken babble. He didn’t have an album
for sale there but if he did I would have
picked it up. Shortly after Tone went on a
brotha with more energy than my nine-yearold with ADD in a Faygo factory came on.
His shoes were the shit (look to the right),
and judging from how high his pants were
rolled up, he wanted everyone to take a
gander at his foot covers. I forgot the dude’s
name, but he kills it on one of the tracks on
Cage’s Hell’s Winter - he even came out during Cage’s set and did the track all the fuck
up. I feel bad for not getting his name and I
definitely could find out with one simple
phone call but I think that his shoes
and high-ass pant cuffs say much
more than his name ever could.
32
ABOVE: Those shoes alone are guaranteed to
get you pussy from any 16yo indie rock bitch.
BELOW: I heard Tone only rocks the Jordan
jersey because he fucking loved “Space Jam”.
I’m going to put this right out there:
I was at the show to see Cage and no
one else. After listening to Cage for
several months and thinking that he
was a black, Tony destroyed my mental image of him by telling me “Cage
is, in fact, white” after some free Head
Automatica concert that he dragged
me to. The concert kinda sucked but
watching Tony bro down with four
underage girls about MySpace and
Degrassi while I ate pizza and bragged
to everyone within earshot about how
I had passed my AIDS test; that made
the night worthwhile. I think the
gambling at Greektown casino
helped, too. Fuck, I’m off topic again.
When Cage first came out at the show
that night he was accompanied by
some dude, ya know, the guy who was
probably his friend from high school
but can’t rap so Cage lets him sing
along with certain parts of his songs
in a Beastie-Boys-like fashion. Well, I
thought his non-rapping buddy was
actually Cage himself for the first five
minutes of the show. If recognizing
Cage was the sport of football, I would
33
be Joey Harrington. Cage slaughtered
the show in my completely biased
opinion. He was phenomenal. I find
most music unbelievable which
makes me hate it. I don’t those fags
in “Default” sincerely miss their boyfriends, I don’t think those kids from
“As I lay Dying” is genuinely angry and
dangerous and I certainly do not think
that “The Mars Volta” are centuries
more psychologically advanced than
everyone except themselves and their
fans. Cage, however is convincing and
that is why I enjoy his music so garsh
dern much. I do believe that Cage was
on PCP for years and was committed to
a mental institution. His music alone
is convincing enough and the crazed
look in his eyes that never left his face
for the duration of the show only
reinforced the sincerity that is heard
in his music. He only blinked twice,
I counted. He is dangerously insane
and highly entertaining. I don’t know
what else to say other than “Cage was
really good”, I mean, it was a hip hop
show. It’s not like seeing the Nuge
and watching him shoot flaming
arrows into guitar amps and kill dear
on stage. Hip hop is basically talking
over music using words that rhyme,
but Cage is really good at talking over
music. And I hate Ted Nugent with
an anti-hunting passion.
Ever since Cage and his sidekick sold out and did commercials for Right
Guard, their arms as well as the limbs of their fans at shows are always
reaching for the sky. Do you smell that? Cold, hard Right Guard cash.
34
UPPER LEFT: Billy Jean is not Cage’s girl. Cage does
his best Jacko impression for my disposable camera.
CENTER: This is the guy who I mistook for Cage.
I’m sorry, but a solid hoodie will make any dude
look more gangsta than Cage with his Izod shirt and
CK Jeans. Calvin Klein, Cage Kennels, it’s all the same.
UPPER RIGHT: Ha ha, Cage looks like a shark.
LOWER RIGHT: Cage plays it safe with the
age-old hip hop fallback lyric: “Throw your
hands in the air if you like fitted baseball hats!”
....and the crowd eats it up.
I’m sure that Mr. Lif, the gentlemen with thick ass dreads that
was headlining, was a damn good rapper. I wouldn’t know for
sure though, because after Cage was done preaching about
PCP and NY, Tony and myself went to a diner up the street and
ate greasy ass breakfast food. Eju did stay for Mr. Lif, and Ben,
Hump’s ex-roommate (who has written for this magazine
as well) was there also. I’m not going to ask them to write
anything about Mr. Lif because I don’t care. It was a hip hop
show, and if you (the readers) really gave a shit you would’ve
went. So here are more pictures of Cage, not Mr. Lif, because
eating grody scrambled eggs and bacon sandwiched between
two pieces of cinnamon raisin toast was more important to me
than watching Mr. Lif talk over his hippity-hop music.
It topped off the night nicely. - DFEd
LEFT: Ben puts the keefe box down long enough to curl his mustache and make
an appearance at the show. Upper Left: I’m guilty of taking pictures of my
cock when I’m drunk. I tried to do just that here, but since my junk is so small
and I was so lit that all I got was grubby Ann Arbor toilet-art and my pee pee.
CENTER: PCP causes paranoia. Cage takes a peek down this girl’s shirt
to see if that’s where the voices are coming from. RIGHT: The guy on
the equipment is literally the hardest working man in show business.
DJ KrazyGlue. He held it down for FOUR STRAIGHT SETS that night
and he was the tour manager on top of all that. While he is hard
at work a lazy Cage lies down on the job. I liked the old Chris Palko
better, he used to rap standing up.
35
Hello to all you sorry worthless fucks out there
that read this fine publication once every other
month (because we are all alcoholics and slow).
I would like to introduce to you the newest writer
for Dirt Fondler. Meet Dominic. Dom is a fat
sloppy fucker straight out of Philadelphia.
Kind of like the Fresh Prince, but more gay.
Actually, I met him in a gay chat room. We fell in
love over the internet, and now when his fat ass
isn’t stuffing his face full of cock and cheeseburgers
he will contribute to this piece of shit magazine.
I sent Dom 10 simple questions and this is what
his fat ass wrote back. Enjoy Dom’s gay fairytale
writing style - there just might be more to cum in
the future... Eju
3. Why the fuck would you ever want to be
a part of this magazine?
Because my balls itched and I scratched
my taint until it was bloody.
(Note from DFEd: since Dom is the “new guy”, he gets
gay graphics and a gayer typeface. Deal with it.)
7. What would be a better dream date: Eating
White Castle with me - OR - licking my dog’s asshole?
Tabasco can cover the taste of anything.
But White Castle makes my stomach turn.
And you are gay.
1. What was better: My Little Pony or Blossom?
Blossom, because when I was younger
I wanted to mouthfuck her under her
big jew nose. Besides, ponies fight back.
2. If we were stuck on an island, what would you
rather bring with you: A dildo, twinkies, and shaving cream - OR - anal ease, a rake, and gay porn?
Dildo, twinkies, and shaving cream.
The dildo so you would not bug me for
gay sex, twinkies because, hey, fuck you, I
am a fat boy... and shaving cream...
I’ll use anything as twinkie topping.
36
4. If you were Jewish, would you
want to be circumcised?
If I was Jewish I would be rich and that is
all that matters. What’s circumcised?
5. Are you a republican?
I don’t believe in religion.
6. Why are you so sloppy and gay?
Candy bars.
8. Lesbians?
2 at a time.
9. Jewish people?
How many Jews can you fit in a compact
car? Fifty. Two in the front, three in the
back and forty five in the ashtray. It’s a
classic staple joke of anti-Semitism.
10. White People?
Yeee-haww frosty mug. Jiz is white for
a reason... It is evil. That’s why shit is
brown and the sun is yellow.
Welcome Dom, you sloppy queer.
bi: Eju
Look to the right, chump. This was the flyer
for what would be by far the best 6-6-06
party in Detroit. If you missed it, sucks for
you player. I knew coming into this, sober,
not drinking once again, that it was probably
a good idea that I am no longer drinking.
When you mix 100 some odd fucks that have
a feverish lust for booze with dead animals
and some of the best power violence, metal,
and grindcore this side of the Mississippi, well,
someone has to be sober to remember it all.
37
So fuck, where to begin? I guess I will start
off saying that if I had not gone, I would have
felt like an asshole. It was sorta like a high
school reunion, but instead of all your old
friends moving on and having corporate fuck
jobs, all your friends still haven’t showered in
the last 9 months, they are still as drunk as the
they were the last time you saw them and are
ready to fuck shit up at the drop of a fetus.
Big grizzly John, my gay lover from Ohio was
there. Redbeard, the one fifth of the greatest
grindcore band Jeff Nonsense, he was there.
Sasha, not having paid his rent in probably two
years was there as well. Those are the important
cats I needed to see. Then add 100 or so other
people that I miss the fuck out of and we were
ready for a grand fucking evening.
When I got there, of course, everyone was
already shit the fuck wasted. Severely
wasted in some cases. And their bellies,
all full of course. What might have these
vile fucks been eating you might ask?
Goat. The sacrifice was inevitable. Now,
I am not all about animal cruelty as I own
a wonderful dog, but on 6/6/06, this goat
was truly fucked. Not in a literal way, but
may has well been, for as I tell you how the
goat was killed before it was consumed
you surely will get very angry. I can expect
death threats from PETA in the near future.
The goat had its throat slit. Now, normally
you would think that an animal would die
after having its neck fucking cut, but it
didn’t. So Jesse, the man of the hour who
slaughtered the goat had to bludgeon it
on the head a few times with a hammer.
Done deal. Dead goat. One hundred dirty
crusty punk kids fed. Satan satisfied. PETA,
don’t bomb me, bomb the building instead.
I didn’t kill the fucker, but I sure did
partake in some good ass bbq goat.
When I got there, bands had already
started playing. I got to witness Shitfucker,
skipped a band, and got ready for the
greatest pirate punk band in the fucking
universe, bar none, Pirate Law. When Pirate
Law plays a show, even if your own mother
was there with you at their show you
would kick her in the fucking
ovaries.
38
LEFT:
The multi-talented
Jesse - he can kill
drumheads and goats.
PETA, this is enemy #1.
RIGHT:
Redbeard from
Pirate Law,
the baddest
pirate since
Johnny Depp
Pirate Law makes men and women alike go nutty. Like 14 million teenage sluts
all with the opportunity to suck Eminem’s dick at the same time. Shit gets crazy
sometimes. And, as this show was hosted at the hippyplex, excuse me,
Trumbleplex, I knew it would be a good set. You see, the Trumbleplex has
loads of bullshit zines, garbage ass pamphlets on recycling, punk lifestyle,
DIY, and one that said “urban Jewish youth league.” Now, I am a kike and I
live in the burbs, but I don’t know what the fuck that was all about. I do know
there was some real pissed hippies as all their pamphlets and zines were
trashed about the place. Mayhem, drunk kids throwing fists and elbows at
each other, screaming along to the music - this was probably the culprit.
I know it doesn’t sound like much but until you witness the energy that
comes from this great band, you don’t know shit. My favorite part of their
short lived set that night, due to pissed hippies, was Redbeard crouched
over, playing his guitar and just vomiting all over the floor, never
missing a note. Cheers, Red, I love you.
The night ended for me when people started screaming at each
other about the good ol’ Detroit police who happened to circle
the Trumbleplex 6 or 7 times. There were empty 40’s, beer bottles
and liquor bottles being chucked into the street at Trumbull and
Willis. The place was trashed and I had seen enough. I had a 15
minute drive home with my lovely intoxicated girlfriend, a belly
full of dead bbq animals and some great memories. I am sorry I
didn’t take pictures of this – as you may know, I still do not own a
camera yet for some reason. I have a 8 inch purple dildo
underneath my dresser for girls that like foreplay but no
camera. I have a .45 auto tactical Smith & Wesson, but no
fucking camera. My apologies. Either way, I wouldn’t have
had it any other way, my 6/6/06 was great. Let the apocalypse
begin and let Jesus and I smoke blunts together while
we play bingo at the bingo hall, for I am a happy man.
Sincerely, fuck you all...
39
Eju Bronson
ABOVE:
Tim from
Pirate Law
BELOW:
The
blokes
from
Shitfucker
40
The Detroit sun has set on the techno fest, thank fucking god. Hart
Plaza (left) can now return to its serene, desolate state. That makes
me happy, but not as happy as opening my inbox to find pictures
like the one below from Eju. Art is not dead. I mean, look at the
detail in this. See those little drops of blood frozen in freefall
around the pelvic area? He is a digital illustration master among
masters. Between Goatfest, hip hop shows and techno music I
think I’ve had enough of music. I’m done with sounds. I’m way
more into jokes now, like this one that I heard last night. What is
the difference between Jesus and a painting of Jesus? You only need
one nail to hang the painting. That was way better than listening
to music. Special thanks to Hezbollah, white rappers and Lloyd’s
shredded pork for making this issue possible. I wonder if the folks
at Lloyd’s would buy ad space in our mag seeing as we are all about
killing animals. I’ll put it
out there, we’ll accept
their product for ad space
- we don’t want their
money. We’d just use it
to buy shredded pork
anyway. Our web site
will soon be overhauled,
probably in time for issue
7. If I get drunk enough,
it may just turn into a
porn site. Fuck the
magazine, I want to make
a living by charging
people to look at other
people naked. I think I’ll
use the picture to the
left as a starter. nakedbleedingcheercunts.com
- I think it’ll be a hit with
the high school kids. But
not Lance Bass, cause he’s
gay. Or so I hear. Queer.
Love you – DFEd