St Louis Sinner issue 14

Issue 14 March 2010

Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy

7 Deadly Sins of Eric Stanze 12 Sinful Bands

UNMASKED

The Sinful Art of

Fear & Publishing

Anniversaries & Aneurysms

Even somewhat successful independent publishers survive this madness long enough to celebrate an anniversary or two. Of course, there’s nothing written in blood nor stone that says a publication must celebrate its anniversary, but it’s often expected, perhaps even more so when you’re the bastard child of a publication called The Seattle Sinner. Some seven-years ago when we first took the leap into these shark infested waters we made a commitment to celebrate each year with the most sinful show that we could provide, for free. Our reasoning for this was to thank all those who have continued to pick up this amateur forum of sorts, which ultimately enticed local business owners to advertise in the first place. In case the bigger picture is blurred, without those supporters we would not have survived one city, much less two.

In regards to shows of this magnitude, I shall not mince words, nor bite my tongue, nor pour sugar upon shit to make this gig smell like roses and honey. There are certain individuals in every city who frown upon free shows, even one a year. Our anniversary shows have been known to irk a few over the years, complaining that we hurt the scene by not charging. Some of these folks in Seattle even attack production companies and performers who don’t charge what they deem to be enough, meaning a $10 cover and up. The bottom line is too often money. And in case the lines are once again blurred, let me explain that there is little to no money in this gig of independent publishing, nor for most of your local bands and entertainers. So then, why do any of us do it? I find myself asking myself that question often, as I’m sure do many musicians, performers and artists.

I answer that question, at least for myself, by looking back eight years ago when I never once contributed to my community in any manner. I bought all the necessities of living form the corporate beast Wal-Mart – underwear, socks, booze, food, CDs, everything. And even worse, I only caught bands who were featured on mainstream radio. To put it simply, I didn’t give a fuck about music, nor art, nor politics, nor literature.

I waved my flag, supported George W. Bush, even though I didn’t vote, and screamed, “America’s #1, baby!” after shedding tears during the national anthem at the Devil Rays’ games. I never knew how lost I was until I met some chick sitting at my local watering hole sharing her photos of cemeteries. That was some ten years ago.

But that one afternoon spun my life into a 540 some two years later, that’s three 180s, and that’s the reason I break my balls every year to put on this show. Perhaps it’s my way of thanking her, too, for putting me on this sinful path. I promise, I would not be today without having met her and picking up Aleister Crowley’s Diary of a Drug Fiend from her book shelf one cold November afternoon.

To be honest once again, shows of this magnitude can cause nausea, headaches, high blood pressure, heart attacks, and even worse, aneurysms. There’s nothing easy about putting on any show, nor finding a venue like Atomic Cowboy who will host it without charging you an arm and a leg for the night. And it only complicates matters even more so when you bring 50 or so entertainers to the stage. Performers expect at least drink tickets for the night, a reasonable request, and an extremely common fringe benefit for performing. It’s quite easy for a venue to throw out a few drinks to two or three bands, but when you bring a small army in, owners and managers begin to stutter. Understandably so. Sometimes you have to lay a few hundred dollars down to match the bar to provide those tickets. The last thing you want is a broke performer buying his or her own drinks minutes before taking the stage. Things could get ugly really quick. That’s the most painless aspect to putting on a show for free, throwing out a few bucks that you don’t have in the first place.

What can and will cause blood vessels in the brain to clot and burst is the constant communications between bands, dancers, freaks, and artists to confirm their participation. And if you think making fifty or so emails and phone calls and visits won’t cause an aneurysm, throwing you into oncoming traffic on a snow covered freeway in the blink of an eye, you don’t know much about production, nor entertainment. It’s a grind of unimaginable sorts.

Once confirmation is finished, a set list must be established, with several minutes of fuck-ups and long-winded performers to be added in. It’s the difference in a show ending on time or having to cut the last band because the show has run way out of control while you’re outside celebrating with friends. I promise that’s an ugly site! And that only scrapes the surface of what it takes to put on a mammoth show. Then there’s sponsors to deal with for prizes, posters to hang, invitations to send, never ending promotion, radio shows to visit, etc., etc..

And if an aneurysm isn’t deadly or painful enough, be prepared for castration when you decide to jump the fence that divides readers from writers and publishers, that is if you’re one to procrastinate. Procrastination is certainly my sin, the bloody cross I bear every month – and one which many writers bear. Perhaps it’s a disease, or even a disorder of sorts. Maybe it’s a defect in the brain that god made in his image, like having a small penis or little breasts. I really don’t know the origin of this beast, but it’s the evil monkey that hides in the closet of every independent publisher and writer – one that will come out and gnaw your balls off while you try to meet deadlines the night before print.

Castration is certainly what it feels like at 4am, hours before print. This kind of pain will cause numerous mistakes in grammar, and even worse, god-damned typos. It’s hard to see or hear the vicious fucker creeping form the closet while one eye shuts and the other shudders. And it’s even harder to fear the little bastard while you’re away from the desk, running from show to show, week after week, month after month. You forget he’s even in the closet, waiting for the right moment to leap upon you. But that’s the nature of this madness, this gig called independent publishing. Expect to deal with aneurysms, anniversaries, procrastination and even a ball-gnawing monkey from time to time.

And that, my dear Sinner, is just another tale of fear and publishing in two cities.

Procrastination & Castration

News, Rants & Politics 2. Fear and Publishing 4. A Maimed Mind

5. Sinful News

6. Piper’s Pit 7. Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy

Music, Film, Art & Entertainment 10. Huggy Talk 11. 1 Year of Unmasked 12. Music poster 14. On The Scene With Malice 15. Sonic Recoil; Voodoo Queen invades Bill’s 16. Sex Fiend’s Porn Review

18. Wicked Illusions

Religion, Sex, & Other Sinner Shit 8. Our Sinful Community 9. Mardi Grau Photo Journal 17. Enigma Tattoos

20. Campfire Tales

21. Skin Deep with Stu 22. 7 Deadly Sins of Eric Stanze 23. Fill-Line Fandango Publisher: Chuck Foster Layout: Terri Daniels Cover Art : Wicked Illusions - Model: Nos Writers, Ranters, Opinionists & Other All-Out Freaks: Stu Mark Taylor-Canfield Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid Kimberly Peters Jeff Diggs Paul Blow Buddha Fish Kristen Ivy Lucifer Saab Lofton Matthew Gorman Emily Eufinger Malice Gabriel Zolman Henry Nicolle Danielle Correll

The Sinner is a group of contributing writers. Their opinions, rants and ideas do not necessarily reflect the views of The Sinner itself. The Sinner encourages contributions from its readers but retains the right to edit material due to content or length of submission.

For advertising or submission information, contact us at chuck@theseattlesinner.com. Submission deadline is the 25th of every month.

E s s a y | A Maimed Mind

by Henry Nicolle

As a general rule, I do not date many of the things I do. My letters are un-dated. My notes are uncluttered with time. My days and nights are distinguished only if I bother to look out the window. Putting a date on these essays is not something I do. In fact, I avoid all but inadvertent reference to contemporaneous events as I worry the little knots in these essays that tie the pieces of my curiosity to my passing moments of anger and angst.

Today, I cannot avoid the contemporaneous aspect of self-labeled “Progressive and Liberal” crank heads. It is a comment on today. On our People of today. On the Children who compose the main body and mind of our society in our America, Land of the Free, Home of the Brave (and the Insane, by the standards of our Founders).

In an article at boston.com, a public school teacher named “Doug Van Gorder” is said to suggest that school lockdowns during physical

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emergencies, emergencies like someone seizing a moment to eliminate staff and students, is probably a good thing, but maybe not. Not? Why “not”?

Because Doug quite accurately suggests that the lockdown guarantees a virtually unlimited number of potential dead staff and students, limited only by time and ammunition (or blade sharpness, or bludgeon sturdiness. There are lots of ways to kill defenseless people).

Defenseless and locked-in is almost uniformly assured because a parallel policy of campus life is to prohibit weapons for defense as well as to spoil the right of ownership of “ugly things” with a potential for unauthorized mayhem.

Like fish in a barrel, but wait . . . I’ll get to that allusion in a moment. Doug goes on to comment that lockdown may not be as great an idea as it first appears to a truly enlightened Progressive, exactly because it “holds everyone in place,

allowing a shooter easily to find victims.” He then suggests that the next best alternate is to publicly announce an emergency and command that all within hearing must urgently flee the campus for fear of the danger therein resident.

But ol’ Doug doesn’t like that idea, either.

Why? “Why?” you ask? Why, because it would not be fair for the quick and agile and selfreliant to succeed in avoiding the fate of the weak, the slow, the indecisive and those deferential to authority and therefore looking for someone in authority to further advise their prospective escape.

Doug is quoted here: “Schools should level playing fields, not intrinsically reward those more resourceful. A level barrel is fair to all fish.”

See what I mean about alluding to “fish in barrels”? As in “Shooting fish in a barrel.”? He’s saying that it is not “Fair” to warn people of danger and to flee from danger, because it is not “Fair” that some people are fast and some people are slow. Good Government is accomplished by making us all die at the same rate and the same time, is it, Doug?

Oh, you think I am taking poor Doug out of context? Well, let’s see what he says in closing his comments, shall we?

Here goes: “But as a progressive, I would sooner lay my child to rest than succumb to the belief that the use of a gun for self-defense is somehow not in itself a gun crime.”

Self-defense a crime? Is that Progressive and Liberal? Is that the mental Hell that the original progressive liberal assertion of inherent individual Rights, Liberty, Self Determination has harvested from 223 years of Independence from submission of the individual to whims of rulers?

Sequestering a class of people to slaughter because it is “Fair”? No, that was not a grammatical screw-up. What difference is it to free Men and Women, if their “Government”establishes a “Policy” which assures the destruction of the population of a classroom or a social, political, economic or religious class?

Why stop on our shores?

Why not eliminate classes of other populations who (bless their little ignorant souls), (if they have souls), believe that their lands and their lives and their money are their own, and not ours.

Well, it is because we say it is in our “National Interest” to take their stuff. Why? “Because we say so.” It is our policy.

Because it is “Fair”. Why is that?

Well, like shooting fish in a barrel, it is policy and it is fair, because we say so.

I think that any time any adult commands me to do as they say, “Because I say so!”, I am in the company of a mortal enemy who has just declared his intention to destroy me. Coincidentally, I am not an advocate of Doug’s view of self-defense.

Call me silly perhaps, but I am not insane.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

EXTRA Sinful News EXTRA You Stinkin’ Animals!

Wikipedia defines animals as a major group of mostly multicellular, eukaryotic organisms of the kingdom Animalia or Metazoa, who are also heterotrophs, meaning they must ingest other organisms for sustenance.

In regards to the reproduction of animals, Wikipedia states that nearly all animals undergo some form of sexual reproduction. Well, South Carolina Lt. Governor Andre Bauer recently shared his definition of “Animals” with the people of America: Poor People.

Speaking at a town hall meeting in South Carolina last January, Bauer said, “My grandmother was not a highly educated woman, but she told me as a small child to quit feeding stray animals. You know why? Because they breed.

You’re facilitating the problem if you give an animal or a person ample food supply. They will reproduce, especially ones that don’t think too much further than that. And so what you’ve got to do is you’ve got to curtail that type of behavior. They don’t know any better.” Since most animals lack a decent edjumication, he’s saying that we ain’t got enough sense to know that if we can’t find work we shouldn’t breed at all. It seems like Bauer would be quite happy if all us animals were simply castrated, then put back in the fields to better serve our masters. But he didn’t stop there.

Like many rich white folks from the south, Bauer is not only against feeding the strays, he wants the state to cut off all assistance to residents receiving benefits who fail (soon to be) mandatory drug tests, or those who even fail to attend PTA meetings. That’s right, if you have to stand on the corner all day and beg for change to bus you and the kids to the PTA meeting, then you better start making cardboard signs – that, or loose your family’s food stamps. See, Bauer feels that if you get something from the state, “then you owe something back”, because our government is “breeding a culture of dependency”. And if you think that’s truly disturbing, then read STOP THE DRUG WAR below.

Bauer does admit that some of his “neighbors” receiving assistance may actually be in dire need, but points out that there’s a “big difference between being truly needy and truly lazy.” Yes, there is a big difference between being truly needy and truly lazy, as there is with being healthfully employed and on the street unemployed. Bauer’s comparison to welfare and feeding strays who know no better is hardly anything new. On his site he states that welfare takes many forms, saying, “We are sending the absolutely wrong signal to the next generation about what is needed to get ahead in life if we don’t threaten benefits for recipients who won’t even lift a finger to help themselves or their children. The flood of emails, calls, personal contacts, voice mails, and television website polls tell me most people agree with me. …”

I’m sure that most of Bauer’s less needy neighbors do agree with him, at least those not worried about invasion of privacy nor hurdles to leap to prove that they’re an animal worthy of a treat, or maybe just two. I just hope Bauer knows that sometimes animals do attack, even their masters. And that they might come November.

For Profit’s Sake, Think of the Children On February 1st every motorist with a heavier foot found another eye of Big Brother watching their every move, then electronically ticketing them for speeding along Ashby Road in front of Hoech Middle School. That’s right, folks. St. Ann, Missouri has hired the never tiring eye of Big Brother to keep their children, at least the ones of Hoech Middle School, safe. Arguments are quite common on the topic of how much we need, allow, or permit Big Brother to watch over us. However, regardless of opinion and spin, the one question too often overlooked, and even less asked, is: who is this Big Brother?

Is he the government,or an employee there of? Is he CIA, NSA or some other intelligence branch far more sinister? Is he a republican, or democrat? In Orwell’s 1984, he was the all-watching strong arm of government. Today though, Uncle Sam’s way too busy to keep an eye on you and I, and those who dare run red lights and speed through school zones. So he’s outsourced the position to one of his buddies, as he has with several other industries, like our military, energy, security, etc. Why not? Those seemed to work out fantastic... well, at least for the top 1%.

Here in this part of Misery we have about 140 red light cameras that our local news claimed had brought in over $10,000,000 in the first year. Say, God-damned! That’s a lot of money! That’s good for the area, too... right? And it makes those lawless animals on the road pay, and pay

good. Right? Well, it also makes Redflex Traffic Systems, Inc, the largest photo enforcement technology provider in the U.S. with more than 1,200 fully operational systems in more than 240 communities in 21 states, quite wealthy as well.

You can sleep well, these fat cats do it all so our men-in-blue can be off fighting crime. They cover the hardware, installation, maintenance, software, citation processing, mailing, adjudication services, payment possessing, collections, process serving, public outreach and training... just to name a few. And now they have REDFLEXredalert, the innovative Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) system that has the ability to identify vehicles of interest through local enforcement agencies.

Redflex Traffic Systems, Inc’s profits have more than doubled since 2006, because that’s what this is really about, profits. Big Brother and his friends are like Simon, you do what they say, when they say, or you pay through the nose. Where does profiting from error to keep you and the children safe end? How far do we allow the eye of Big Brother and his friends to wander? How fat do we allow their pockets to fill? Is the day of Redflex spreading into home monitoring not so far away, where they watch and fine each citizen who has one too many drinks while their kids sleep, or smokes a joint to South Park, or masturbates to internet porn ? As long as the root of this evil is disguised as safety, not very far at all.

StoptheDrugWar.org

Drug Testing: Missouri Senate Committee Passes Bill to Drug Test Welfare Recipients

A Missouri state Senate committee voted Tuesday to approve a bill that would require welfare recipients and applicants to pass a drug test in order to receive government aid. The bill, SB 607, passed the Senate Health, Mental Health, Seniors, and Families Committee on a 5-3 vote.

The bill attempts to get around constitutional problems with other mandatory drug testing bills by limiting drug testing to those whom case workers have identified as creating “a reasonable suspicion” they are using drugs. Persons who are then drug tested and test positive would have an administrative hearing and after that hearing, could be declared ineligible for Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) benefits for three years. Dependent children of people thrown off the rolls would not lose their benefits; instead, they would be provided through a payee for the children.

The bill also provides that the Department of Mental Health would refer people who test positive to drug treatment, although it doesn’t specify who would pay for it. Nor does the bill have any provision for returning someone to the rolls after successfully completing treatment.

The vote came despite a fiscal impact analysis that found the measure would cost the state more than $2.5 million in 2011 and around $3.5 million in 2012 and 2013. While the state would save some money from paying out fewer benefits, those savings would be swamped by the costs of drug testing, hearings for people who appealed the loss of benefits, and the cost of drug treatment.

Missouri is one of a handful of states where similar bills are moving this year. Similar bills have been filed or pre-filed in Florida, Kentucky, South Carolina, and West Virginia.

A S m a l l P r i c e To P a y written by Saab Lofton

“Not even girls want to be girls so long as our feminine archetype lacks force, strength and power...

The obvious remedy is to create a feminine character with all the strength of Superman plus all the allure of a good and beautiful woman.”

—William Moulton Marston, inventor of the lie detector and creator of Wonder Woman There are times I wish I was a beautiful woman.

See, in order to promote my censored novel, Battle Neverending, I dressed as its starring character, who happens to be a superhero (the character rids the world of nuclear weapons just as Superman did in the 1987 movie, The Quest for Peace). However, a bearded black man with dreadlocks in a superheroic costume is only going to have so much of a societal effect... ...but if a beautiful woman were to wear such a costume... if I looked the part, I’d hit the streets with flyers, give speeches, host fundraisers for good causes and bring about a Roddenberryian utopia in record time.

Lysistrata was a Greek play written in 411 B.C. by Aristophanes. The story’s female characters barricaded a public funds building and withheld sex from their husbands all so the Peloponnesian War would end. In the play, it worked. IN REAL LIFE, it’d work, and ladies, if you don’t believe me, then you don’t know men at all and neither do any of those magazines/talk shows you’ve consulted – despite what they claim.

This of course begs the question, what is beautiful?

Well, it’s clear the goal is to appeal to American men (since America is home of the military-industrial complex, which drains our resources, ravages the world and must be toppled), and I hate to break it to you, but that means one must be slim, petite and shapely for this to work.

Is this exploitation? Let me answer that question with a question: Is it exploitive to ask the one black guy in an all-white leftist political meeting not to mind being a token in the name of the greater good (by the way, I’ve been that token and I still am, more often than not, I’m afraid)? It’s a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things: A beautiful woman dressed like a superheroine can inspire girls to believe in themselves; to imagine themselves worthy and capable of wielding great power (as well as great responsibility). Plus, if it’ll get the fellas to contemplate dismantling the war machine, then that’ll be worth the price of admission alone.

It’d be one thing if I wasn’t willing to wear Spandex myself, but I have, FOR YEARS and can tell quite a few anecdotes about what it’s like to wear tights, boots and a cape in public.

So I speak from experience when I tell anyone

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brave enough to try this to play it safe and use the buddy system – especially after dark, even if you have mastered the martial arts. Keep a cell phone handy, and if some dude does want to take your picture, always dictate the terms: Your body, your choice.

In past columns, I’ve advised musicians – be they rappers, rockers or whatever – to regularly hold benefit concerts for the likes of Amnesty International, Food Not Bombs, Code Pink and so forth. Lord knows how many bands have actually followed through, but consider this just another piece of friendly advice. I mean, what’s the alternative? Having women wear Chadors (jet black, full-length cloaks) like they do in the Middle East – all so no man will ever see their figure?

And another thing, spending a fortune at The Mall in a vain attempt to emulate some vapid diva/prima donna ain’t revolutionary (or even healthy), which reminds me of a quote from this Lysistrata poem I read in the book Molotov Mouths (Manic D Press, 2003): “You sit there a slave to fashion, sigh, and say to me, ‘I don’t want to spend my life fighting for a change that may never happen.’

MEANWHILE... as another victim dies from starvation in exchange for your ‘sense of style,’ I hope you wanting to hasten the death of your own life is worth murdering others.”

For the record, I think of myself as a feminist, believe it or not.

I have the utmost respect for women like Dr. Helen Caldicott (an anti-nuclear activist I’ve had the honor of interviewing) and Dr. Mae Jemison (the first black female astronaut). That having been said, I wouldn’t sleep with either of them even if I was stranded in a blizzard and needed the warmth, but that’s not the point is it? We’re supposed to define a woman by the content of her character, NOT by how sexy she can be.

But let’s face facts: Sex sells and the leftwing has always had a serious problem selling civil liberties and free social services to the dangerously ignorant masses of white suburbia, so why not give this a shot? Granted, plenty of women have already dressed as superheroines for various causes, so this is nothing new, but as forms of activism go, it’s still relatively unexplored territory. Read today’s Orwellian headlines and you’ll see for yourself the dire need for additional avenues of protest and fundraising.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

Zero Tolerance Gone Crazy

RJB Photo

by Jeff Diggs

“FREEZE! STEP AWAY FROM THE MAGIC MARKER AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” Ok, so that’s not exactly how it went down but it might as well have. 12 year-old Alexa Gonzalez who is a Junior High School student at Forest Hills, New York, doodled on her desk the words “I love my friends Abby and Faith. Lex was here 2/1/10 :)”. No profanity, no hate, no gang symbols, just a simple message of friendship.

Alexa is a typical seventh-grader who likes to dance and draw. When confronted by school officials for doodling, Alexa expected a lecture or possibly detention for her doodle but instead, the junior high school principle had Alexa arrested and taken to the police precinct. Alexa was publicly humiliated in front of her classmates and teachers while police cuffed her hands behind her back and escorted her from school like a criminal felon, all while Alexa had tears gushing down her face. Prior to this incident, Alexa did not have any disciplinary issues with school, the law, or otherwise. Alexa was arrested for violating a school zero tolerance policy.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time a student has been arrested for a foolish reason. Since events like 911 and Columbine, schools have adopted zero tolerance policies towards just about every aspect of a student’s daily curriculum. One of the first cases of over the top zero tolerance to gain national notoriety involved Chelsea Fraser in 2007. Chelsea, at age 13, wrote “Okay” on her desk which resulted in her being handcuffed and arrested by police.

In November 2009, a middle school in Chicago, Illinois, had 25 children as young as 11 arrested for a food fight. I remember school lunches and the only crime committed there was serving that food.

School administers and police have gone too far. Zero tolerance policies are intended to protect students from physical and emotional harm. Incidents such as writing on school property or talking back to a teacher are generally not zero tolerance offences. After school detention and extra curricular activity suspension are very effect first steps in correcting wrong behavior. Actually, sometimes just pulling a student aside and explaining why their behavior is wrong and asking them to stop can work too. But who talks any more in this country? We just head straight for litigation.

Emma Jordan-Simpson, executive director of the Children's Defense Fund, a national children's advocacy group noted, "We are arresting [children] at younger and younger ages [in cases] that used to be covered with a trip to the principal's office, not sending children to jail.” Children need parenting and guidance, not arrest records. The Strategy Center, a California-based civil rights group that tracks zero tolerance policies, found that at least 12,000 tardy or truant tickets were issued by the Los Angeles Police Department and school security officers in 2008. The tickets tarnish a student’s records and bring them into the juvenile court system with fines of up to $250 for repeat offenders. This system teaches children that if you’re late, you pay a fine and there are no other consequences. It doesn’t work like that in the real world. If you’re repeatedly late, there is no fine and instead you loss your job.

In 1998, New York City took its zero tolerance policies to the next level, placing school security officers under the New York City Police Department. Currently, there are nearly 5,000 employees in the NYPD School Safety Division.

Most are not police officers but that number exceeds the total police force in Washington, D.C. In contrast, there are only about 3,000 student counselors in New York City's public school system. Critics of zero tolerance policies say more attention should be paid to social work, counseling and therapy. An increased police presence in schools is one significant step towards a police state. Children who grow up with police interacting in their daily school lives will be desensitized to police activity in their adult lives.

In 2005, Michael Soguero, principal at Bronx Guild School, New York, recalls being arrested when he tried to stop a police officer from handcuffing and arresting one of his students. Michael Soguero was taken into custody and charged with assault against the officer.

Police and security officers working in schools need specific training on how to work with children. Zero tolerance policies must be redefined to specifically identify criminal acts that pose a true danger to the safety and wellbeing of the students including both physical harm and emotional harm. There are a variety of disciplinary techniques that effectively correct bad behavior without the need for police and legal intervention. Over use of police and excessive punishment for behavioral correction such as writing a message on a desk can lead to a police state environment where children will stop asking questions and stop thinking independently out of fear of punishment. Long term consequences can result in a police state government where people blindly follow a leader to our own demise.

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HELLO, ST. LOUIS!... AND WELCOME TO THE FIFTH EPISODE OF

OUR SINFUL COMMUNITY! Welcome back, St. Louis! I’m still your host, Chet Chesterson, and my job tonight is to feature some of your local businesses with a bit of sinful flare to them. So all you in the audience please stand up and give yourselves a round of applause for supporting your sinful community, and all you folks out there watching on the boob-tube, give yourself a pat on the back, too. You all deserve it!

Aunia Kahn Well folks, tonight we have a very special guest. Many of you may remember her work from the cover of issue number 2 of The St. Louis Sinner. If not, she is one of them most amazing artists in the St. Louis area today, having had her art featured all around the globe. And guess what, folks?

She has recently published a new book. Everyone please stand up and give a sinful welcome to Aunia Kahn!

Alright, quiet down folks... Aunia only has so much time to share with us tonight before she flies out to New York for some real talk shows. Let me say, you look amazing, and this book, I love it. So tell us all a bit about it...

Well Chet, Obvious Remote Chaos is another side of my creativity that not many people get to see outside my exhibited artwork. It is a collection of poetry, prose, short stories, and song lyrics, which in turn is illustrated by my black and white photography. It has been in progress since I was a child. I started to write poetry, and lyrics years ago, somewhere around the age of eight. I saved all the writings in a folder.

In my late teens I learned to use word processing programs for school essays and saw the value of typing out my scribbled handwriting into a computer document to print out, which is how I made the first version of this book, three ring binder style.

WOW! Let me tell you, Aunia, at the age of eight I was cutting the heads off of GI Joe action figures in my grandmother’s garage... you were writing books. This must have been a challenging process for you, even today?

You know, Chet, with the majority of the writing for the book completed, sitting around aging like fine wine for years, I found having the bulk of material ready was least challenging, until I started the process of editing again knowing it was going to print. The hope and knowing you will be professionally published is two different things, and when you know for sure it’s going to print, your views change on how you look at your manuscript. When it’s sitting in your computer you can change it on a dime, when it becomes a book it’s pretty final. My perfectionist attitude took over. After a couple months of working with my publisher and editors, I finally sent an email with my approval of the final draft knowing my book would go to print within the hour. I think I may have even acquired a small stomachache right after I hit send. In support of my follow up email that stated, “I hate to be a pain in the ass, but I am so nervous that there is some BIG mistake that one of us missed”. My editor and publisher both told me “no book is perfect” which is true, even with New York best sellers. When I got the book, I did find an error, and I was totally fine with it. It was a lesson I had to learn.

I know the feeling, Aunia...every time I begin to walk out on stage I almost pass out. Thank God for Wild Turkey and Diet Coke... just kidding folks, I can’t afford Wild Turkey. So, who published this master piece for you?

Old Line Publishing published the book for me, Chet, and let me tell you just how proud I am to have worked with them and the quality of the book that was produced. They are a wonderful company and are always looking for new authors. Do you have a book? Submit it….what can it hurt?

Aunia, If you knew how bad my spelling and grammar is, you wouldn’t have asked that. Seriously, though, how can someone out there in the audience take on something like this?

If you want to write a book, then you have to start writing. I think so many people get hung up on the larger aspect of writing a book and even get intimidated. Really all one can do is start writing, if you don’t write you have nothing, nothing to edit, nothing to work on and surely nothing that could become a book one day. Some writers take 5-10 years to write a book, others take 3 months – but they all start somewhere and work at their own pace.

My suggestion would be don’t think about the outcome, just write what you love and then think about what that love can become later on. I feel the same way about any creative process. Don’t worry about what people might think or if it’s good enough. Enjoy the process, that is what it’s all about.

Well, Aunia, we’re about of time... so where can our viewers find this delightful experience?

Thank you for asking, Chet. The book can be found in a couple places. They can purchase it direct from the publisher www.oldlinepublishingllc.com, if they would like a signed copy they can go to my web store www. auniakahn.bigcartel.com, or it is available on Amazon or Barnes and Noble online.

Thanks for coming out tonight, Aunia. I’ve had a wonderful time with you and your book. Everyone please give Aunia a sinful depart and be sure to check out her new book. Until next time, this is Chet Chesterson, checking out. And be sure to do one thing when you leave here, get out and support your sinful community! It desperately needs your support!

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A Sinner’s Mardi Gras

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence

Party at George & Tony’s House

Bartender from Bastile’s

by Paul Ace Diamond “Huggy” Blow I’m no Nostradomous, but occasionally I do like to don my psychic hat, channel the spirits of dead rock stars, and predict the future. It was I who predicted the change of the decade in 2010, it was I who predicted we would have a new president in 2009, it was I who predicted a man would land on the moon in 1969. (Okay, that one was 30 years late, but the prediction was correct.) I have made a name for myself as “psychic to the stars” and have given psychic readings to such celebrities as Ozzy Osbourne (I predicted he would have his own reality TV show and appear as a bumbling oaf), Cher (I predicted she would have no more hit songs), and even Pamela Anderson (I predicted we would have sex – but she didn’t fall for it). And now, finally, I am unveiling my psychic predcitions for the year 2010. To prepare myself for this psychic session I fasted for three days, did 20 push-ups, took a nice hot bath, ate a multi-vitamin, and meditated to the latest Kenny G. album. Once I was relaxed enough I went into a trance by repeating the words “Bula Mahooty Bula” and I channeled the spirit of Elvis Presley. (Yes, he really is dead!) However, the spirit of Elvis was too loaded on pills to communicate clearly, so I quickly unchanneled Elvis and went to my “go to” spirits: Joey Ramone, Keith Moon, and Ace Frehley (even though Ace isn’t dead yet). This is what the dead rock star spirits tell me will happen in the year 2010: 1) President Barack Obama will have the famous White House Rose Garden razed to build a volley ball court.

2) George W. Bush will star in his own new reality TV show, On the Ranch With W, in which guest celebrities stay on the Ranch with “W” and help him clear brush. The show will be a flop since nobody wants to watch people clear Texas brush.

3) The Big Three automobile companies will all collapse, but Mattel Toys will step in to fill the void with an exciting new line of Hot Wheels (tm).

4) The Iraqi reporter who threw his shoes at George Bush will open a chain of highly successful shoe stores with the slogan: “This shoe is for you.”

5) Sarah Palin will get her own cable television talk show in which she will interview interesting Alaskan folk, but the show will be canceled after two episodes due to a lack of interesting Alaskan folk. It will be replaced by a new reality dating show starring Brett Michaels’ blonde wig and Danny Bonaduce’s former roommate’s second cousin.

6) In the music world, Ozzy Osbourne will release an album of poetry and spoken word titled, Diary of a Sensitive Man, which will be sold exclusively through Starbucks Coffee. Britney Spears will stage a successful comeback this year, but Vanilla Ice’s comeback as an Emo rocker will fail miserably.

7) In more music news, the top selling CD of 2010 will be by new teen-idol pop group “the Bratz Dolls.” Their live show will suck, however, as they will be represented on stage by life-sized puppets lip-syncing to the CD and the strings will be visible.

8) Actor Brad Pitt will suffer a major embarassment when he is photographed on a Fiji Island Beach wearing nothing but a pair of mens’ tightey whitey briefs, complete with skid mark.

9) In the literary world, Ex-vice President Dick Cheney will write a book of memoirs titled “I Was Right All Along, F*** All of Ya!” The book will sell less than 1000 copies due to it being banned from Walmart for it’s title and even George W. Bush will not read it.

10) Actor Eric Estrada will re-invent himself as a peacemaker and try to solve the Middle East conflict, but will fail miserably, start World War III, and go back to appearing in infomercials.

11) In a show of respect for the beloved departed pop star, Michael Jackson’s former pet monkey Bubbles will be elected mayor of Jacksonville, North Carolina.

12) Finally, aliens from another universe will make themselves known to us in a grand display of power by turning the state of Nebraska into a giant crop circle but the American public will never know this because the latest Britney Spears news will dominate the headlines that week.

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Future mayor: Bubbles

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UNMASKED

The Saw Is Family

12 Months of Sinful Music

by Chuck Foster

S

The Hail Marys

Sons of Black Mass

everal pale moons have passed since Guitar Doug and I created Unmasked Either way, these cats blur the line between true honky-tonk and punk in Seattle some three years ago. Of all the amazing columns that have been like no other, landing them a spot in The Sinner with ease. Watch for featured in The Sinner, this is perhaps the one closest to what I envisioned them to hit Misery sometime soon.

By the time we hit issue eight I had an itch to do something different, almost eight years ago when the wife and I started this forum-style rag, a labor of love, if you will. We never once intended to be a “music” zine, but more of a rag like cover a local underage punk/metal band, so I threw the idea past who dedicated a few of its many bones to the punk/rock/metal/alternative scene my man Tom from Mamacita’s. His first words were, Say Uncle. I said, every month. Guitar Doug is the brain behind this column in Seattle, picking say, what? And he said, Uncle. Originally, I thought I would be lucky to some of the city’s premier up-and-coming bands, so when I decided to grab this find a worthy group of kids just out of high school, but Tom assured me beast by the balls in St. Louis I wanted to duplicate the force he brings to every that this band, featuring two teenagers, would out punk most seasoned issue. And for someone who knew nothing of the St. Louis music scene, or if it bands twice their age. God-damnit, man, he wasn’t kidding, either! If even had one, I think we’ve done a pretty good job our first year. So, in case any old-school punk is your thing, be sure to keep your eyes and ears on Say of you sinners out there missed a few issues and wondered who we covered, I Uncle... they just might be the next big wonder out of Misery.

Come issue nine I wondered if I could keep this pace up, that my have decided to take a stroll down Sinner’s Lane this month and revisit those 12 fat ass was full of booze and out of words and quality music. Finding bands, like the ghost of Sinner’s past.

The Hail Marys laid all those worries to rest. Covering this Having decided to print a month ahead of local icon was perhaps one of the most schedule to be the only media sponsor of Naughti memorable moments of my Gras in 2009, I scrambled to find a solid band short time here. We were for the first issue. I searched a many MySpace invited to a practice set for a pages before running myself mad. I then photo shoot, where we got to stumbled upon Bob form The Wayout Club, enjoy these cats sing, “It’ll Be one of the most rockin’ venues in St. Louis.

OK” up close and personal...

He passed me a short list of bands, which which allowed me to sit back happened to include Devil Baby Freak Show and enjoy what I do, and the – I was pretty much sold on the name, but the rest of the head-shaking practice music certainly didn’t disappoint. Know that thoroughly. I don’t care how bad when this militia of musicians takes the stage it gets, just listening to The Hail they’re loud, they dance, spew blood, and Marys will make you believe that shimmy like fiends! Short and simple, they Bible Belt Sinners everything will be OK. rock! Thanks, Bob! I certainly can’t forget the Having featured DBFS in issue one photo shoot for issue 10 with The I faced a dilemma of finding another band to Haddonfields. Times don’t get much match my first serve. Somewhere in this borderline wilder, nor drunken, than a night meltdown we stumbled across the infamous Trip with these madmen. We met at Cicero’s Daddy’s. I think everyone who reads The Sinner is for their CD release party, at least I think familiar with these stray cats, but if you’re not, they’re it was a CD release party, but it’s hard to known around town for some of the most rockin’ remember after that show. Either way, I rockabilly around – and for front-man Craig Daddy to asked the band about shooting on stage jump on a table and throw his guitar behind his back after their set to capture the live effect, without missing a lick. If rockabilly were an Olympic but they blew the idea off, saying they Sport, these cats would take a gold in performance and were a bunch of drunks, so let’s do sound. it at the bar – and that we did. And It has been said that in the beginning God created who can forget this quote: “We’re the Heavens and the earth, and that our Mother planet drunker than Trenchfoot. Faster than was no more than a formless wasteland, covered in Bunnygrunt. There are more of us darkness and mighty winds before he graciously gave it than there are Livers. We’re older light. It is also said that God created Hell to punish Satan, s ld e than Say Uncle. More dudes than fi n o dd his mighty adversary in Heaven, and all those minions who The Ha there are in the 75’s. We’re taller than The Humanoids. dared follow him in his rebellion against God. If there be any Fatter than Cuban Missiles. Dumber than Black For a Second. Sweatier truth to this tale, then from the lake of fire and brimstone evil than the Wifflers. Sexier than the Disappeared. Younger than Ded Bugs. creatures shall rise, and some shall gather to play his music. Those beasts are Less talented than The Trip Daddys. Hairier than Sex Robots. And even here amongst us now, and they bare the name Sons Of Black Mass. That was more fun than your uncle’s Skynyrd cover band!” And all that is 100% one of my favorite introductions of Unmasked in issue three with SOBM, and I true! worship these Devil rocker’s unique style of music just as much. Be prepared for In issue eleven I began Unmasked by saying, “To limit one’s self to anything dark and unholy when these minions take the stage. any particular genre of pleasure starves the soul slowly, never harming When we hit issue four I wanted to stir things up a bit, prove our commitment one’s physical being, but his or her spiritual essence...” Those thoughts to diverse coverage. I set out to find a solid rock band, a group that would awe came to mind after catching Final Veil’s live performance one Friday our readers as much as bands prior had. In my extensive search I discovered night, and after front-woman Cora Camille described the band as a Ockums Razor, a powerful rock foursome enriched in pure emotion. This band’s “hypnotic entry to the place where East meets West”. For those who have passionate rock sound separates them from many others in their genre, which not caught Final Veil, it’s a show that each must experience for one’s self, landed them this spot in issue four. as the vocal belly dance of Cora and her band are far more than a bridge The following month in issue five I introduced readers to “The most upbeat, between cultures, but a spellbinding trip to one’s soul. angry band in the world...” for their first reunion in four years, The UnMutuals. Al After the strangeness of Fate takes your blind ass by the hand and Swacker from DBFS is one of the core members of this band, and certainly brings leads you down a rabbit hole to a band like Devil Baby Freak Show for his presence to the stage, blood and all. Their so-labeled reunion show your first issue, the trip only becomes more bizarre when it opens a door at The Ten Mile House on June 12 was one of most highly anticipated to a band like Bible Belt Sinners for your last issue of volume 1. And with shows of the year, and the band did not disappoint fans, nor The Sinner.

Jane Rose sitting behind the wheel of this well-tuned machine, belting Our July issue, number 6, was a real treat for us when we unearthed out lyrics that shake and jive with each strum of her guitar, you know this the Saw, The Saw Is Family. Anything goes at these shows, including all- four-banger swings and rocks like few others in town, and that’s quite the out make-up and wigs to chain saws and sex dolls. These cats put on one compliment in St. Louis. Be sure to check these cats out soon! of the most entertaining shows in town, and are known to slice and dice This Sinner couldn’t have prayed for a better finale to our first year of an audience with their sing-along tunes on any given night. That’s right, Unmasked, but that’s how fate works – and that’s what it feels like after you got one choice, boy: sex or The Saw. Sex nobody knows, but The featuring 12 outstanding bands. And if you think that rocked the train off Saw, The Saw Is Family! Who’s your family? The Saw, baby! the tracks, keep your eyes here for the next year! And be sure to come Issue seven featured Jason and the Punknecks, a band that plays St. check out some of these bands Saturday night for our anniversary show Louis enough to seem local, yet is actually out of Nashville, Tennessee. at The Fox Hole!

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On the Scene and Heard with malice UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL with one of my favorite people Sheena Love, Queen of the Music Scene, The Rock N Roll MaSheena.

photo by Rabid Rabbit

I

’m never happier than when I’ve got a new bandwagon to jump on (my nearest and dearest gets really tired of my obsessing over the same band week after week, year after year), so I’m always on the prowl for something new to listen to that doesn’t drive my man crazy (that’s a tough one) and as Sheena is a good friend of ours, I thought I’d focus my story on the personal level for a change.

If you’ve been in St. Louis for any length of time, you’ve probably seen one of her bands: MISSISSIPPI HIPPY KILLERS (what a cool ass name for a band!), making an appearance with The Saw Is Family as “She-Saw”, or most recently as the new singer for America’s New Ambassadors of Love. Ordinarily, if a band has more than two words in the their title and they’re not named for a road somewhere and they don’t go by their initials, then, quite honestly, I’m not going to remember what it is. In this case, I’ll remember…you can figure out their initials on your own. Sheena’s very adventuresome in her musical endeavors. She plays bluegrass fiddle, and as a singer, she makes a very bold statement, in every word, in every note. This woman is ROYALTY on the music scene, she knows all the right people and, what’s more, all the right people know HER. I am proud to call her my friend. I remember I kept running into her at Trip Daddys’ shows at Lemmons, again at The Deluxe, and quite a few times at Off Broadway…so I found out who she was and stalked her on MySpace…lol…that’s how I meet most of my friends. She’s also got a very cool boyfriend, crooner Brian Eddie of the pornobilly band, The Reebs (if you’re a fan of dirty songs, check out “Wicked Game” …it’ll send shivers down your spine). Their romance is kinda Johnny Cash and June Carter but not so twangy, a little Sid and Nancy but not so bloody, kinda Jerry Lee Lewis and his child bride, but not so creepy….but I promised not to get too personal, so I’ll just say they’re a great couple in two very talented bands…BANDS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT…write them down, so you do not forget!! THE REEBS and AMERICA’S NEW AMBASSADORS OF LOVE. But on with the story…America’s New Ambassadors of Love is a courageous, outrageous punk band LOUD, PROUD, AND OUT OF CONTROL Check out their MySpace page (www.myspace. com/analisgoodforyou) and listen to their really cool tunes, there are 3 of them up right now: “ Chain Reaction”, “His Vibrations”, & “Vampire Boyfriend”. You’ve got Ruby, a flamboyant bass player who matches her lipstick and her socks with her bass so she is photo by Chuck Foster completely, totally RUBY, you’ve got Chris Foxx on guitar, you’ve got Pamela with Rapunzel locks , a most enthusiastic drummer (you’ve got to watch her hair fly), and last but not least, you have a very mysterious Mustachioed Man. If you’re looking for a fun way to spend an evening, catch a show by America’s New Ambassadors of Love, who promise to make your heart smell like poop, put a spring in your step, and a smile on your face.

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Sonic Recoil @ Heartbreakers

There are few places that I dare not venture in any city, and those are usually where the real terrorists migrate and mingle, tourist spots. In Seattle they flock to the Seattle Center with its towering Space Needle; here in St. Louis, it’s the Arch and Laclede Landing, which is where Sonic Recoil just happened to be playing the last Friday of February.

Having been invited to attend this show weeks prior, we decided to tough out these dire circumstances, and even pay for parking. It’s not that Laclede Landing lacks its fair share of sinful establishments, like Heartbreakers, Show-Me’s and Big Daddy’s, I just have a personal distaste for tourists. I don’t even visit these sites when I’m visiting a city – hell, I never even rode the elevator to the top of the Space Needle while we lived there. But if there’s one thing that will drag me to the most dreary parts of any city, it’s a solid rock set – and that’s what Sonic Recoil brings to the stage.

And unbeknownst to me at the time, what Heartbreakers brings to the bar, and even stage, is some of the most stunning gals in St. Louis. Each is nothing less than a heartbreaker.

My man Russ, aka: The Butcher, rallies this gang of fistsmashing metal heads on lead guitar, backing up the Conductor of Chaos, Adam, on Vocals.

But what completes this band is Ground Shaking Avery on bass, Sounds of Pleasure and Horror, John on guitar, and Tear 777, Daniel L. D. Hawley on drums. This five piece assault punishes their instruments in true metal fashion each set, leaving crowds dazed and consumed with their hard-driving lyrics. This is certainly a band to keep an eye on in the St. Louis metal scene. Check out www.myspace.com/sonicrecoil for more info and upcoming shows.

VooDoo Queen Invades Bills On Saturday, February 27, we headed northwest by northwest to Just Bills (2543 Woodson Rd, Overland, MO.) for the highly anticipated VooDoo Queen production featuring last month’s Unmasked band Saence, with Thorn Fetish, 8 UP, and Soul Descenders. If you’re looking for heavy rock/metal that will possess you to the point of thrashing your head around until you throw a few vertebrae out of position, then look no further than a VooDoo Queen Production – or Just Bills on almost any weekend night.

There are critics in the scene who like to say that metal is dead while they nod their heads to pop-rock bands and commercial radio garbage, but I guaranThorn Fetish tee none of these nitwits have been to Just Bills or a VooDoo Queen production.

If they had, they would have a much deeper respect for the genre and its fiercely devoted following.

We walked through the back entrance to find Soul Descenders (www.myspace.com/souldescenders) on stage, a local metal band with enough sharpness on every cord to slice through wood and steel alike with ease. This foursome recently released a new EP with Malcolm Springer (Matchbox Twenty, Collective Soul, Fear Factory) which they say turned out “fuckin awesome!” And if it’s anything like the live show Saence we caught, I’d have to agree it must be “fuckin awesome!”. You can catch these cats live on March 20 at Radmaker’s with Habit of Force.

Second up for the night was 8 UP, a five piece metal slinger with a flare for showmanship, often in costume, make-up and all. This five piece belts out vocals and chords with the best of them, a sure head shaker for any true metal head.

Saence took the stage third, this time with electric guitars and drumsticks in hand. Finding the proper words to describe this band is quite a challenge, but as selfdescribed on their MySpace page (www.myspace.com/saence), their music is used as a powerful medium to communicate with the unliving. And that’s the feeling that overloads the senses as the band takes the stage and the first drum is clobbered, and a clobbering it is when Rya strikes his skins of the dead. Then it becomes an out of body and mind experience when Dean Preacher on vocals and Jackie Flawless on guitar grinds in. Their next show is a CD release party at Pop’s on April 17, a trip well worth the ride.

Last up was Thorn Fetish (www. myspace.com/thorn-fetish), a former St. Louis metal band that now hails from Texas. What comes to mind when these two words are thrown together? Thorns and blood, pain and pleasure... and this was certainly the mind-set that took the stage from the first guitar riff. With songs like, “Pissin’ in the Holy Water” and “Let’s Get Evil”, you know you’re in for a wickedness not experienced by most mortals, and that it was from start to sweaty finish.

This is a band with a disc that you want to add to your collection, one sure to thrash Soul Decenders 8 Up Thorn Fetish the friends and freak out the neighbors!

Saence

Saence

Thorn Fetish

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Sex Fiend’s Porn Review of…

Catherine

Directed by Michael Ninn Starring Audrey Hollander, Nikki Blond, Otto Bauer, Victoria Swinger, Adriana Rouso, Valentina Velasquez, Mike Foster, Bruno Sx and Justine Joli

O

ne thing that Michael Ninn is known for is beautifully shot porn and Catherine is no exception. Ninn takes his viewers on a journey through one woman’s psychic; a psychic with two opposing forces represented by two different planes of reality. At first, Catherine talks about ‘her’ as if she was another woman. But you soon find out that ‘her’ is actually herself spiraling out of control, where one side of her appears virginal and the other as the heathen consumed by sex.

The counterpart takes full control exploring her outermost sexual perversions. One scene involves Catherine (played by Audrey Hollander) sitting in the backdrop ordering a woman to be ‘tortured’ into pleasure. As if this woman truly deserved her punishment, she takes it in full stride spreading wide as directed. The counterpart appears strong and unchanging in her role in Catherine’s world.

Otto (Audrey’s husband in real life), calls her a wench and a whore, but she takes these words and shoves it back into his face defying his degradation and making him succumb to her sexuality. If this wasn’t enough, she takes on a powerful DP demanding both men to perform, as Otto stood by watching. There’s also a lesbian scene with Audrey and what appears to be twins at first glance. Each takes turns devouring each other until one of them finally straps on a dildo and proceeds to hammer Audrey into senseless oblivion. The line between reality and fantasy become blurry swinging Catherine back in forth between the two planes. She sees her counterpart as a real threat to the point, where she finds herself in this other world. Meanwhile, Otto attempts to reassure that everything is fine but Catherine is beyond the point of reality by this time and continues to fight her other self till someone pays.

Catherine can be described as several scenarios in no particular order held together by the main character. It will take you several times to watch it to understand what is going on. Nonetheless, each scene was exquisitely shot to move all of your senses in awe. This is not your typical porn flick so the hard core enthusiasts won’t be particularly pleased with this one. Ninn’s work usually is poor in the stroke ability factor, which is what you find here. But for all the Audrey Hollander fans out there, you won’t be too disappointed. Audrey does an outstanding job in her character with some strong acting chops. A convincing performance throughout and her chemistry with Otto exemplifies why this duo is one of the most influential teams in the industry. After watching this, I now consider myself a fan of hers. The costumes had no particular theme; a combination of latex and goth inspired gowns. Also the characters he chose had an ethereal look, which gave the movie a fairy tale quality and the original sound track does a nice job in setting the mood. The standard edition gives you a sneak peek of what’s available on disk two so anyone looking for behind the scene takes and interviews would be better off upgrading your package. I highly recommend this for those interested in seeing beautifully shot porn with a slight tinge of hard-core, kind of following along the lines of Andrew Blake films. A definite must for all the Audrey Hollander fans out there though. And for anyone that’s into Ninn Worx, you can find this and others like it at www.adulttoychest.com.

Enjoy!

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ENIGMA TATTOOS:

Reclaim Your Body

By Emily Eufinger

U

nassumingly tucked above Sunshine Daydream, near Vintage Vinyl in The Loop, stands Enigma Tattoos and Piercings, which celebrated its one-year anniversary January 31. Warning: this shop will not use cheap gimmicks in order to entice clientele to frequent the establishment. If a twenty-dollar tattoo is what you’re looking Above: A view of the shop standing just inside the front door. for, you will have to look elsewhere (and will most likely get what you pay for).

What Enigma does is put art … in and on your body … using needles and ink … permanently.

The shop is bright, clean, and simple; functional, not trendy. A sign near the cash Ryan Henerey begins work on a halfregister conveys: “Minimum sleeve on Dennis Adams of Springfield, $50 Tattoos; Minimum $40 Illinois.

Piercings.” One wall in the waiting area is completely bartering with valuable items. covered with examples of Enigma’s staff will quote you Sailor Jerry Collins tattoos. a fair price, but they won’t jump at The staff members are kind, the chance to do any tattoo just to knowledgeable, inviting, make a buck. For instance, piercer/ and talkative – not at all Chris Greer tattoos a horse on St. Louisan artist Chris Greer – who has also intimidating.

Corey Schimmelpfennig’s arm. been with the shop since day one – On a Saturday evening does not prefer to tattoo faces, unless in February, when the King of Clowns strolled in with a guitar around his neck, the rest of the person’s body is completely covered. everyone was more than welcoming. While performing He advises potential customers to draw the tattoo on his Valentine singing telegrams around The Loop, themselves using washable markers every day for a Clownvis Presley decided to stop by and serenade the week to be sure they truly want ink on their faces.

Everyone has their own preferences when it staff and customers. Presley himself has been tattooed comes to getting inked. Henerey says that cost should at Enigma—an adorable little bunny on his forearm.

“This is the nicest place in town,” Presley declares. not be the determining factor; finding an artist you connect with is more important. “Don’t bargain shop; “The work is the best.”

Even his manager, Narville P. Tuffnuts, has been a find someone you like,” he advises. “I don’t care how customer. He describes the shop as looking more like good you are [as an artist]: if I don’t like you, you’re a salon or spa than a tattoo spot. It would be easy to not gonna tattoo me.” Both Greer and Schaefer have envision barbers positioned in each artist’s station. In had laser tattoo removal, and don’t recommend the addition, Tuffnuts enjoys the energy Enigma gives off: experience.

Still, all of Enigma’s employees are enthusiastic “It’s more peaceful than other shops.”

Ryan Henerey, who has been a tattoo artist for 6 about their work in body modification. “I like helping years, and came on board the Enigma crew only a few people change their bodies the way they want,” months ago, says that Enigma is very much a street Greer states. He describes tattooing and piercing as shop. They welcome walk-ins as the majority of their “Reclamation of the Self,” or helping people become business, and are more than happy to draw on the spot more comfortable in their bodies by taking control of the way they look. “The tattoo process is intimate— for their customers. you talk to people … with The shop has also piercings, you just have been known – on rare to keep them calm … it’s occasions – to accept a different psychological payment in forms other experience.” than mere currency.

Whether you’re Greg Schaefer, who’s into metal or ink, the been tattooing at experience of “Reclaiming Enigma since it opened, Yourself” at Enigma will witnessed a woman leave an impression as play the accordion at permanent as the body the shop for an hour art. in exchange for a piercing. So if you’re strapped for cash, and fairly persuasive, you Clownvis Presley serenades Ryan Henerey while he tattoos Dennis Adams of Springfield, Illinois. might have success in

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The Sinful Works of Wicked Illusions written by Chuck Foster

T

Emily

Pandora Genocide I mean, you can look at five thousand shots of models, all looking the same and “perfect”, but it’s the one image of one of the same girls with their brains splattered across the walls that is going to make you pause for a second look...

The dark sides of the world are always shunned and hidden, fuck all that!.

18

here are as many facets and genres of photography as there are of film and music. Shots of landscapes and scenery are of the more conservative nature, the boring works taught in class rooms, while nudes and halfnudes are a bit more of the erotic fashion, often a self-taught aspect to one’s works. But when it comes to the madman behind the lens of WICKED ILLUSIONS, be prepared to be a bit disturbed, if not all-out distraught by his macabre style of Horror Photography.

Known to most in the industry as Wicked Illusions, photographer/filmmaker Jim Wayer says that he developed a passion for the visual means back in high school, when he first got into Filmmaking. From there he began to dabble in photography, mainly doing so when asked by friends or models he knew. It wasn’t until after a shoot with Sarah Swofford and Nos (both featured here) that he started to take photography seriously, admitting the two “yelled” at him until he accepted the fact that he knew what he was doing. The gruesome style of photography present in his works today stems from a love of horror and dark imagery, and probably a long list of “mental stability issues” he adds. That certainly may be the case after a thorough examination of his works.

Wicked Illusions is most notably known as the official photographer for Wicked Pixel Cinema, the locally based horror production company by film maker Eric Stanze. This dream job came about years ago when Wayer joined the family of Wicked Pixel Cinema during pre-production for DEADWOOD PARK. After contacting producer Jeremy Wallace about helping out the on set, he found himself as the key grip, meaning head of the grip department and chief rigging technician on the set. Having been with the company for some time now, he works in the studio daily and helps maintain a lot of the business between movies, as well as web design for promotions. Through this position he has had the opportunity to work with several amazing actors and actresses from the St. Louis area, like two of my favorites, Emily Haack and Jason Christ. When asked about these two, which have lead roles in the upcoming release of RATLINE, he says that they’re a “rare breed” who always “out perform the expectations placed in their roles, but never show a hint of ego after doing such amazing work.”

The addition of Wicked Illusions in Wicked Pixel Cinema’s graphics department is literally jaw-dropping. As a fan of Wicked Pixel Cinema’s older films, Wayer offered his services on top of being the key grip on DEADWOOD PARK. On the new film RATLINE, he actually sat down with Eric Stanze to discuss the idea of not only coming up with an official font for the title, but also designing a full logo for the movie. Eric wanted the old Death Head image, a symbol found on almost any Nazi SS officer, to be a part of it, which led to many meetings about the look and feel of the design. Eventually Wicked Illusions decided to mock-up what had been rattling around in his brain, which he says that when Eric finally saw it, he was like, “Yes”. After a few tweaks here and there they had the final logo which is now plastered all over anything RATLINE related (You can read a whole blog entry on Eric’s FEARnet.com blog where Wayer rambles about the details of creating this logo).

There are several images front cover worthy in Wicked Illusions’ portfolio, and as much as we desired to put something a bit more horrid The Perfect Life on the cover, we went with “Elegant”, featuring the lovely Nos. Wicked Illusions says that this shoot was one of the most grueling he has ever committed to, a full day of shooting with six to eight separate set ups for different looks. In the end , though, he says that he is extremely proud of this one shot. First, he says that it best represents the bridge of two worlds, with “just enough fashion and ‘pretty photo’ aspects to it, along with a hard-edged alternative and dark side to it.” Secondly, he jokes that he finally defeated the fantasy cloth! This is the fabric used to surround Nos in the shot, some awful background cloth that Wicked Pixel Cinema had purchased years ago. Wayer says that he has yelled at Eric Stanze every time he has brought up using the Fantasy Cloth in a film for years.

“I still remember after our shoot, which took a total of 12 hours straight Haack without a break, I ran upstairs to the studio and declared victory with my arms raised to Eric who was sitting at his desk, looking at me like I had finally snapped. To be honest, Elegant still remains one of my all time favorite shots that I have ever taken.”

For still photography, Wicked Illusions shoots with a Nikon D40. He says it’s an amazing camera, but admits that it would be nice to have something with a few extra megapixels. When asked about advice for young photographers interested in the field, he says “Just do it! One thing I have realized is shoot what you want, fuck anyone who tells you it’s the wrong thing to shoot. If you want to splatter a model in blood and apply wounds and gashes to her body, then do it! I have been told before that I wasn’t a true photographer or that I ‘shoot to photoshop’, if that is what you want to call it, that’s fine. I honestly don’t care what you want to label me as, or what your thoughts are on what I am doing wrong with being considered a real photographer. I shoot what I want and put it out there. I would rather live a life of poverty and have a lifetime of things to be proud of than to live a cushy life of doing shoots that I really don’t like. This is not saying I turn down all gigs that I can’t get behind artistically. If someone comes to me with an idea and I truly like it, I am in… if I am not into it, then a very large price tag and the ability to not be credited gets attached to it! After all, someone actually living as an artist full time without a day job needs to eat too!”

Most recently Wicked Illusions has been catching up on some proj-

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Pandora Genocide Pandora Genocide

Casper

ects that he admits to have been “lacking on”. These include some new entries into his The Horrid Collection, which he says includes his best work yet with some very sexy ladies! Besides that, nothing is on his menu besides maybe finding galleries for The Horrid Collection and whatever fun comes along! He did concede that he has a few things lined up to get back onto a set and get his hands dirty! With all that is morbid and horrid with Wicked Illusions, I thought about his end-of-theworld predictions. I asked him where he saw himself come 2012? “In 2012?

“Laughing when the Earth is either on fire or a bunch of people are gathering to feel stupid that they believed some interpretation of old Mayan scriptures. If it’s the latter, I am going to hold up the bible and yell, ‘It’s Ok everyone, let’s just go back to this one!...’ After that, some of you will probably hate me, just close your eyes and imagine me not giving a shit.”

Instead of me telling you where to find more about Wicked Illusions, I’ll let him, as his words are as razor sharp as his photography. “ You can find my website at www.wickedillusions.com or my myspace at www.myspace.com/wickedill. You can also check out wickedpixel.com for more info on the movies I help make. Since this section is all about being a whore, I’m going to dive right in! The Official site of RATLINE- wickedpixel.com/ratline, The Official site of the Goddess of Gore, Nos- goddessofgorenos.com, FiFi’s clothing(awesome shit!)- fifisclothing.com. Also, check out my dad’s Performance shop website, him and my mom have been overly supportive in my retarded life decisions and they both kick some major ass! Turboconnectionracing.com... Oh and for Andy Fitzgerald, Troy Lineback, Faddam, John Barry, Ben Salyers, Borgmann, and Porkchop (I don’t give a shit, that is your name dammit!): thadiuspictures.com” I am trying to think of anything else. Here, pimp yourself, just write it in!

Visit ______________________ at http://www._________________________________

Jason Christ

Campfire Tales written by Matthew Gorman

“I NEED THAT LIKE I NEED ANOTHER HOLE IN MY HEAD” goes the old adage when faced with something utterly undesirable in life. Quite rightly so, it would seem.

And yet, there exists today a growing contingent of people who believe that another hole in their head is exactly what they need. They are the proponents of trepanation, a surgical process wherein a hole is drilled or scraped into a person’s skull, exposing the dura matter that covers the human brain. Advocates of trepanation, or trepanning, believe the end result of the process to be an increase in consciousness and a general feeling of well being. And while the orthodox medical community generally dismisses such persons as quacks or lunatics, these exponents of trepanation, including many who have had the procedure performed upon themselves, claim it’s the key to advanced mental acuity and happiness. And they are very convincing, too. To hear it from them, we should all be down at Home Depot buying power drills.

As any avid student of history could likely tell you, trepanation is nothing new. In fact, it’s considered by many historians to be mankind’s first form of surgery.

Yes, indeed, people have been boring holes into one another’s skulls since long before the beginning of recorded history.

40,000 year-old Cro-Magnon remains have been discovered with holes in the skulls, although it is unclear if this was done for beneficial purposes.

A trepanned skull that was carbon dated at around 5,000 BC was found in France, and archeologists have uncovered numerous examples of trepanation in the excavation of 2,500 year-old pre-columbian Mesoamerican remains. The Incas and other Andean cultures didn’t shy away from head-holing either, with some examples of trepanation among these ancient peoples dating back over 4,000 years. The ancient Egyptians engaged in trepanation (wherein the brain or the dura matter is not penetrated) as well, and even brain surgery, itself, over 3,000 years ago. There is also evidence — such as signs of healing in the bone — that some recipients of such archaic surgeries actually survived!

Trepanation has been heralded and employed throughout history — from the aforementioned ancient eras to the dark ages of medieval times — as an aid or cure for numerous maladies. From epileptic seizures, migraines, and mental disorders to plain old-fashioned “letting the demons out”, trepanation was just what the doctor ordered.

Why the father of medicine, Hippocrates, gave instructions on how to perform the procedure in his aphorisms, “On Injuries of the Head” in 400 B.C., is still a mystery.

Even today, Trepanation is still occasionally administered by medical professionals for the treatment of epidural and subdural hematomas, or in order to access the brain for certain kinds of neurosurgical procedures.

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In the past, Trepanation was also utilized for mystical purposes, and this tradition continues to this day among several African Tribes, particularly in Kenya and other Sub-Saharan countries, who regularly perform ceremonial trepanations. And it is this psychospiritual aspect of trepanation that seems to attract its modern, non-African enthusiasts as well.

Dutchman “Dr.” Bart Hughes, is the irrefutable father of modern trepanation. Hughes isn’t a real doctor, although at one point he wanted to be. He was thrown out of medical school for advocating marijuana usage and failing his exams, and never actually practiced medicine. Unless you count the hole he drilled in his own head.

Hughes experimented heavily with LSD and other drugs during the heyday of the 1960s counterculture movement, and exhibited the sort of raw charisma of more notable drug gurus like Timothy Leary and Terrence McKenna. After a man named Titi in Ibiza taught him how he could get “high” by standing on his head for long periods of time, Hughes became convinced that the key to truly expanding one’s consciousness involved increasing blood volume to brain. His “new theory” was also based largely on the studies concerning brain blood volume conducted by the noted scientist, Louis Sokoloff, currently the Chief of Laboratory of Cerebral Metabolism at the National Institute of Health (it should be noted, however, Sokoloff is not a trepanation advocate).

Hughes believed gravity to be man’s biggest enemy, forcing the heart to pump blood upwards into the brain. With a hole in the skull, he posited, the brain could pulsate freely, and would thus be exposed to a greater amount of blood flow as pressure on the organ was diminished. This in turn, would alter the ratio of blood to cerebrospinal fluid in the brain, resulting in a greater supply of oxygen, and therefore, in his opinion, in an advanced state of brain function.

He believed it was possible through trepanation to replicate the higher consciousness of our formative years (you know, the whole “soft spot” on a baby’s head thing?). So, in 1962, after being turned down by several practicing doctors, Hughes went ahead and trepanned himself with an electric drill. He drilled a hole through the middle of his forehead (the location of the “third eye” according to legions of mystics), taking special care not to enter the brain and lobotomize himself. Well, according to Hughes, the procedure worked wonders, and resulted in an increased awareness of the world around him (of course, he did also take some mescaline right afterward).

Hughes further claimed that his self-trepanation lead to a heightened clarity in his thought processes, more vivid dreaming, and best of all, to a permanent high.

W e l l , apparently El Barto managed to convince a few others of his genius. One of his disciples, Joseph Mellen (whose gellin’ like a felon),

would be the next to put a hole through his skull in London in 1965. Mellen, using a trepan (a surgical saw with a corkscrew-like crank), actually didn’t get it right until the third time around, and the second time almost killed him according to doctors. He had passed out, and was rushed to the hospital where the doctors told him he had literally been a quarter inch from death.

However, when at last he achieved success, it was in the very same spot that the doctors had said would kill him. To think, doctors telling people not to put holes in their heads, and they don’t even know what they’re talking about.

Mellen’s partner, Amanda Feilding, also became a convert to the trepanation sensation. Her selftrepanation with a drill was actually filmed by Mellen, and was later released as a documentary under the title Heartbeat In The Brain. Feilding would also go on to twice make a bid for English Parliament, running each time on the platform of free trepanations for all.

She claims that she just wanted to get the word out about trepanation, and never expected to win. In her 1978 campaign, she did, however, receive 40 votes!

Another student of Hughes, Peter Halvorson, who was trepanned, himself, in 1973, currently heads the International Trepanation Advocacy Group, or ITAG – an organization that is, in their own words, “dedicated to accumulating the largest knowledge base of information about trepanation ever before assembled.” ITAG has also provided the information and access to underground medical practitioners for the 15 volunteers who have been trepanned via the group since its inception in 1998. These volunteers are all part of ITAG’s continuing study into the effects of trepanation. ITAG requires volunteers to pay for their own surgeries, MRIs, and medical costs. Their website, www.trepan.com, includes a promotional film which I, personally, found more than a little creepy. It views like a propaganda film from some sci-fi cult, and is something you really gotta see.

Whether they’re all a bunch of nut-jobs, or there’s really something to all this trepanation stuff remains to be seen. At the very least, however, the volunteers who have been electively trepanned through ITAG have all underwent professional surgeries in sterile environments. The same can not be said, unfortunately, for some do-it-yourselfers, who took it upon themselves to conduct their own home trepanations. Idiotic people have attempted their own trepanations with everything from power drills to nail guns, although miraculously, it seems that no one has died while performing a home trepanation – yet. Of course, if they had, how would you know what their intention had been unless they told someone? They would probably just be considered suicides. Hell, there could be rotting corpses with Black and Decker drills in their dead, bloated hands at this very moment, still undiscovered by a world who didn’t care; a copy of Hugh’s text, Homo Sapiens Correctus on their bookshelves.

Hughes, who is still alive, believes that the next step in human evolution will be the trepanned, and therefore, the “enlightened” individual, a species he refers to by the aforementioned title of Homo Sapiens Correctus. Hughs claims that this new “race” will eventually develop super-clairvoyant powers. The fact that we are able to drill holes into our own heads seems to be proof enough to Hughes that this is our natural destiny. By that logic, however, we should also be consuming our own feces and lighting our genitalia on fire.

Naturally, the majority of the medical community is greatly opposed to trepanation. The risks for infections (such as sepsis), strokes, generalized meningitis, abscess, epilepsy, and brain damage are far too great.

Not to mention, the whole possibility of killing yourself thing. In addition, orthodox medical practitioners assert that the brain receives ample oxygenation already, and that there is no proof for the alleged benefits touted by the champions of trepanation. In fact, according to Dr. Barbara Hastings, of the American Academy of Neurology, there is no possible way that trepanation can even work. She has been quoted as saying “To do something that crude to yourself is bizarre! Essentially what they’re doing is altering the bony structure, and if they’re good at it, they don’t touch the dura. They’re not doing anything that would affect the brain, just the skull. They don’t even enter the compartment that has cerebral spinal fluid in it. What they’re saying is happening is not anatomically possible.”

So, if you’re thinking of having yourself trepanned, a procedure that John Lennon, himself, once considered, you’ll have to ask yourself something: Who do I trust more? a) some hippie “visionary” or b) the established medical community, including respected neurosurgeons? If after weighing the risks (and possible bull-crap), your answer is still a), then good luck, and happy drilling! But if all goes horribly wrong and you manage to splatter blood and brain matter all over your shit-hole apartment, don’t come complaining to me. That is, if you can still talk at all.

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Skin Deep with Stu Photography by LB Photography (LBfoto1@yahoo.com)

I

will not be addressing a question this month, rather I am going to speak up about a huge problem and issue that belongs to this industry and to its clients.

Infection! What really causes it? What really fixes it?

Look… day in and day out we hear horror stories from medical professionals, clients and even artists about infection, and in almost every case the finger is pointed in somebody’s direction, be it the Doctor, the client or in many cases, the artist. So here is the deal… there are many variables that take place in causing and treating infection. These causes can range from the cleanliness of the artist to the aftercare of the client or the treatment method selected to put a stop to the infection itself. It is such a taboo topic in our field because any attention brought to the problem is often used to negatively effect our community by doctors or family members/ friends who just don’t understand the culture, or by clients who may not even realize that they are damaging the very community that they may be seeking to belong to. In truth, the ones causing the damage to the industry can’t really be blamed as they are simply doing their best to protect individuals involved or themselves and speaking out against something they believe to be potentially hazardous. The problem, though, is this: many of these people have not educated themselves specifically enough about infection, the type of infection occurring, and furthermore, on how these conditions relate to the client/patient when jewelry is present in the site. I can’t tell you how many clients I have seen lose their piercing because a pharmacy tech at a grocery store told them, “That looks infected. You need to clean it with alcohol and put antibiotic ointment on it.” And worse, they don’t realize that when jewelry is present that they may actually be doing more harm than good. In reality, it’s probably lymph and dead cells collecting on the jewelry which can look like infection, but when people distrust their artist and neglect to at least consult him/her first they will 9 times out of 10 lose their piercing.

Why are you going to that person in the first place if there is no trust? Here is another example that hits closer to home for me. Last month I did an anchor on a coworker that is no stranger to aftercare – he tattoos, suspends, collects scarification pieces, and so on. In October he was bitten like half a dozen times by a few Brown Recluse spiders and wound up getting Cellulitis.

This particular infection builds itself from Staphylococcus or Group A Streptococcus and some other less common bacteria that is present on the outer layers of the skin (in the flora to be exact).

Anyway, it can work its way under the dermis and break down the fat (Adipose) underneath. It melts the fat into a very thick mucous like strand and can leave residual material in the fat as it heals. These remaining traces will actually sit idle and wait for its next chance to attack the system. When a small infection is present it moves to the site and starts again.

My friend snagged his new anchor the night he got it and decided to pop it back in himself (DON’T EVER DO THAT! IT WONT HELP YOU SAVE IT!!)

The Cellulitis returned due to a piece of dried blood or some dead cells that were shoved into the pocket when he replaced the jewelry. What’s my point? It’s simple: the act of piercing did not cause this. So who is to blame? This is the over-all point of this month’s article. The doctors say the piercing. If my friend had not been a professional he would have probably said I was to blame – in turn, I may say that it was the doctors not giving him booster shots to aid his recovery after the first extraction of Cellulitis, as Cellulitis will build a tolerance to antibiotics and can actually fight against them. I could even go as far as blaming my friend for improper aftercare, but the reality is that infection is a fact of life whether it be in piercing, spider bites, or paper cuts – and just as often in surgery sites. It waits to take hold and destroy your system. So inclosing I offer this: Do your research, and know your risk, your artist, your Doctor, and most of all assume your own responsibility for decisions made regarding your own body. All we can do as human beings is to do what we do to the best of our abilities. That goes for us as professionals, too, being as sterile, educated and as safe as possible to eliminate as much of the risk as possible. For clients it means taking responsibility for their own body with education and aftercare treatments.

And for the medical field it means allowing people to make their own choices while offering a more specific treatment plan to those of us who are modified, as infection sites in our bodies may likely need different or special attention.

All questions will be answered by email or by a request for you to call me directly and may be in the next issue of the St. Louis Sinner! Thanks for reading!

Stu (Myspace.com/StuModifies - Facbook.com/StuModifies) Self Inflicted Studios (Myspace.com/sistl) 1328 Washington Ave in St. Louis - (314)-621-4660 Stu@StuModifies.com

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THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF...

ERIC STANZE Eric Stanze is the founder, owner, and operator of Wicked Pixel Cinema, creator of internationally distributed, critically-acclaimed, award-winning motion pictures. He proudly admits to sinning often - therefore he has decided to confess to his seven deadly ones to each of you.

GREED The first one is the one that victimizes me the most - Greed. The only Greed I am guilty of having is that of the desire to make the best films that I can.

In that sense, I am one greedy bastard. I do have to put up with the Greed of others though. From distributors to anyone else out to make a buck off my work, Greed pops up often in my life.

WRATH Well, the thing about Wrath is, I have it a lot less than people would assume. I normally am able to release my Wrath through my films, which is a good thing for many people who would otherwise have to feel my Wrath.

LUST The deadly sin of Lust seems like it really shouldn't be a sin. As long as Lust never turns into Greed or Wrath, there ain't a damn thing wrong with Lust. (Lust is more of a gateway sin.)

ENVY I will admit to some Envy. I Envy anyone who has been lucky enough to do what they love for a living AND never have to worry about money. I have the "doing what I love" part down - now if only I could afford to pay the electric bill.

SLOTH When it comes to Sloth, I believe I am perfect in the eyes of Christians. I work non-stop in the interest of bettering Wicked Pixel Cinema, bettering myself as a filmmaker, and trying to keep enough cash rolling in to pay that electric bill. When I hear people say “I’m bored.” my brain barely knows how to process the words. I think I was bored once - when I was three or four-years-old.

GLUTTONY I will flat out admit to Gluttony when it comes to coffee. My team at Wicked Pixel Cinema often must remind/ force me to stop and eat, so food is not my problem. With coffee, however, it practically runs black, no cream, no sugar, through my veins.

PRIDE Now, Pride is another sin that ain't much of a sin. If you have an inflated ego, and you think you're better than everyone else, it's not Pride - it's just being an asshole. However, I believe in taking Pride in one's work - more people should try it. Also, I have much Pride in my team who works their asses off at Wicked Pixel Cinema. If you do something that accomplishes a goal that you set for yourself, you should take Pride in it, damnit!

So now all my sins are confessed. I am free to go out and commit some new ones!

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DANGO FILL-LINE FAN

by Gabriel Zolman T

he male cichlid fish is my hero. Knowing that the female incubates her eggs in her mouthparts, the male has distinctive egg-shaped markings on its genitalia. The female sees the eggy mimicry, fears that the precious seed might be lost, and starts sucking on the male's sex organ. As she slurps in utter futility to "free the eggs," the male surprises her with a blast in the mouth, fertilizing her spawn in the most infuriating way possible.

I (heart) that fucking fish. It gives me hope that indeed, my breed and brand of bastardry is found even in nature. I have a zoological, evolutionary precedent.

But we must never forget that Nature has a system – a karmic IRS – which keeps track of debts and debtors. For a fish, perhaps it is the wormy hook, the final snag and wriggle. For mankind…sometimes Nature repays bastardry in pain.

You drink the pain away; but here it is, six in the morning, and everything is worse off than when you started. I nod and then I wake, and stumble towards something – anything – to grapple as I slowly lower my arthritic knee and wounded ankle to the ground, to test how sore the day will be. By the sound of the rain beating my window, I know it's going to suck – with every drop and soggy dart a bullet, every storm cloud hushing mocking snickers. Even the very weather makes me ache.

My scars itch and the world still stings, and throbs, and spins a bit. I'm nauseous and I hate my life, at least until I piss. I look at the clock, and think of where I need to be, and when. I swig some mouthwash, crunch a pill, and reach for a two-liter of that new-ish Pepsi Meth, or whatever it is that has the Ginseng in it. My life's alright, I guess; I just hate other people's lives for now.

It's hardly the first time.

Though wonderful in theory, I've found it helps only incrementally to weigh one's discomforts against the trials of others less fortunate – it's all Christians and lions in the end: the suffering believer, counting his or her blessings, and thanking the Lord for the handful of pestilent tribulations that have yet to be bestowed, for the members of Job's family that the Devil didn't kill. "I'm about to be eaten by a bloody frickin' lion, but praise Jesus that I wasn't impaled from taint to septum on a stick! How merciful! The hysterical Roman spectators ripped my testes from their tender sack, but the Good Lord hasn't let them twist my nipples off with rusty tongs and shit through my bleeding rib cage even once! Hallelujah! He is risen!"

I refuse to define my betterment by the absence of the worst, in the same way that I would refuse to define my character by the scant defects it lacks – i.e., "He's a drunken ranting pervert, but I think he only steals on Thursdays."

But I digress. My logic isn't always any better, and my path is no less cluttered up and cluster-fucked with poisons, broken promises, and incriminating receipts.

You reach a point wherein you cease to see things as they are, but rather, as they might have been, had you not spent the former moment doing exactly that.

You come to live behind a buffer of perpetual cognitive dissonance. We are only free within the moments we

have ceased to name and number, wherein time departs because it never knew us, like our damned souls in the end. We eat when we are hungry; we sleep when we are tired; we care and cuddle without consequence, imbibe in that which stimulates, and speak as though each word might be our last (or very first) – be it unto ends we seek, or merely sights and smells and smiles along the path(s) we take for journey's sake alone – without calories or cancer, weariness or obligation, STD's or answers…sometimes, utter carelessness is a dead ringer for Zen. At very least, the area code is close.

But never underestimate the challenge that incites, the gauntlet thrown before our feet (and often on our toes): for it is an empty sort of Zen – and given fullness only when its grace remains, maintained, the morning after…in the consequence it shunned the night before. Otherwise, it is a liberty like any other: shackled to the same walls, with new links in our chains…whilst we glow like happy phantoms because we found a way to peer out of our cell, or touch another prisoner, or reach some other fetid dog-dish piled with clumps of something – Some Plump Anything – less rancid than the dish beneath our feet.

Too many an evening, I have gone to bed with Zen, and woken with a lung packed full of phlegm. And even when I wake from less eventful stretches, no philosophy or "gnosis" makes my leg hurt any less. No disregard for time makes the world spin any slower, or cease to spin without you. And no amount of zeal for living quite prepares you for when life itself appears to reach a screeching halt…not that anything ever truly stops, so much as it merely finds new settings – and abruptly loses your luggage along the way.

I suppose my point – provided that I ever truly had one here – is that, by my own off-kilter terms, Zen may (or may not be) the art of being happy at your own expense. It's the old Subgenius axiom: "Don't just eat that hamburger, eat the HELL out of it."

Eat like your starving; fuck like you haven't seen a girl in years.

Sometimes it's best to love as if you don't know where it's been.

Sometimes it's best to love as if you don't know where it's going, Or how badly things will turn out in the end.

Sometimes it's best to love as if the cameras are still on.

Realize that every man on earth is someone else's son, And ignore him just as if he were your own.

They've pinned you to the Jesus Tree, and your choices – few and far between – are these: die for someone else's sins, or fucking live for yours. And regardless of your choice, know the difference between a bad deed and a bad idea. As per what constitutes the former, I suppose I'll have to show you; as per what constitutes the latter, I'm afraid you'll learn this automatically, having accepted my invitation to the former. Funny how that works…

Never mind; I never had a point at all. I'm just out of pills and felt like ranting. But I suppose at 5am it's all the same. I'm phoning it in, but still you took the call.

Sure, this isn't going anywhere...but then, that brings us back to Zen – learn to enjoy the journey, because the destination's only meaningful when the writer gets a refill on his script. ;) )+(