St Louis Sinner issue 16

Issue 16 May 2010

7 Deadly Sins of

Foxy Lady

D-RAILED

UNMASKED

Illegal Immigration Destroying The American Dream

The Sinful Works of

News, Rants & Politics In the beginning god said, “let there be light” and there was light. And when god saw that the light was good, he separated the light from the darkness, calling the light Day, and the darkness Night. God never intended for man to be nocturnal. He gave us light to hunt and crop, and a majestic darkness peppered with stars and pale moons to rest our heavy heads and weary eyes. But he also gave this perfect yin, its yang. He decided to create predators of the dark, who hunted man while he slept. Maybe that’s why the dark scares so many of us today, to the point of madness at times. We can’t seem to escape the thought of something hunting us in the shadows, whether that fear be of animals, aliens, ghosts or serial killers doesn’t really matter. Maybe it’s nothing more than not being able to see past the nose on our face that makes us want to shit our pants when the wind blows, that ancient trigger of survival that shouts through our genetic conscious from the ghost of generations’ past. Maybe it’s nothing more than campfire tales haunting our simple minds.

Without the false light created by man, it’s dark at 4am, and most sane folks are sound asleep, dreaming of puppy dogs and kitty cats and fly balls caught and black presidents. Not independent publishers. We don’t have the luxury of sleeping at 4am. If we nod off behind the desk our dreams are of deadlines met and error-free publications. Of course, not many of us ever see that part of this quandary.

Most of us are dreamers, not indy publishers or black presidents. Those dreams of black presidents and puppy dogs, and deadlines met and error free publications, are obtainable in the corporate world, where staff members run throughout the day to achieve said goals. Not so in the indy world. We survive by working throughout the night, and morning, too often after working all day and week as a slave in the god-forsaken corporate world. And that’s where dreams begin for most of us slaves, in corporate hell.

But you must first sleep to dream.

Most of us never see 4am, but I promise it’s really dark, pitch black some say. So dark, Hollywood makes movies about the Dark Lord, Satan’s witching hour of 3am that drives men over the edge and possess little girls. An hour later, when the witches and cats have nestled in front of a warm fire, and priests have leaped from third-story windows and fathers have murdered their children with axes and shotguns, it gets really dark. And the darker it gets, the weirder shit becomes. Shit, meaning the way the brain functions after consecutive 22-hour days of endless work with little sleep and too much booze. The English language takes on a new facet, whether it be the booze, lack of sleep or the Devil himself whispering into your ear. Words like “where” and “were” and “we’re” all seem to be the same, and they all seem to sing a macabre lullaby while you read through them. My first line typo in this column last month is a perfect example of 4am edits and the weirdness that this evil editing hour brings. Then there’s the forgotten credits and lost photos of events’ past. The entire process of throwing a paper together almost becomes a dream in itself, alarm clock and all. But when the snooze button is pressed, you don’t fall back asleep, you send your documented weirdness and error-plagued publication off to print. Maybe it’s more of a hallucination than a dream, since your eyes are still open, but it really doesn’t matter what it is or what you call it after the sent button is pressed. Your pretty much fucked. Then it’s time to go back to work in the corporate world.

I guess I could just make excuses. “If I had just read that one more time I would have caught that typo.” I could always say, “But it wasn’t my fault. Our editor must have made that mistake.” I could also work the conspiracy angle. “Someone, like the government or a competitor, must have accessed our file in the middle of the night and edited my story to make me look silly.” Life’s full of IFs and BUTs. “If I had just hired a team of editors and spell checkers and typo eaters seven years ago I would sleep well at 4am like god intended...” But I’ve never shit silver and gold spoons. ‘If I had just graduated high school and went on to college I could have been financially stable by now...” But it wasn’t an option at the time after my daughter was born. “If I had never left the ex-wife on the fourth of July I might have been a better father...” But I left. And here I am now. “But it was her fault...”. And I think it was. But none of that trivial shit matters today. And neither does the little mistakes we in independent publishing routinely make. But that’s easier written at 4am than accepted the next day. There’s little hope for a bruised ego, and not much helps soothe it, not even sleazy sex and booze. Sometimes the only prayer you have in Misery after such a fuck-up is finding an 80’s cheese film like Porky’s at 6am. They say laughter heals the worst wounds, and it’s a lot cheaper than prescription drugs. And on an independent budget, that might be all you can afford.

Honestly, the countless excuses of IFs and Buts might make us feel better when we’re out and about, mingling through the crowds at parties, conversing amongst people we barley know.

And laughter can only do so much for the soul and mind. I promise that I speak from painful experience. I’ve given my share of IFs and BUTs. And it’s a continuous battle to remove those words from my vocabulary. But in the end, it’s a part of independent publishing that you must come to terms with, or it will drive you mad. And I mean outright mad. Then again, someone once told me, “If IFs and BUTs were candies and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Fucking Christmas...” But they’re not... but, If they were... well, you get it, right?

And that’s just another tale of indy publishing in tow cities... god-damnit, I mean two cities! Damned secret government!

4am Edits & Forgotten Credits

2. Fear and Publishing 3. Why? 4. If There Was a Revolution in Iran...

5. Weapons of Mass Distraction

6. Piper’s Pit

7. Illegal Immigration, Destroying the American Dream 8. Science, Spirituality, Art & Relationships

Music, Film, Art & Entertainment 10. Bitchin’ With Lucifer 10. Huggy Talk 10. On The Scene and Heard with Malice

14. D-Railed Unmasked

15. Bob Reuter’s Alley Ghost 17. Subversive Activities: Inside Subversion 18. The Sinful Works of Deverie Rudd 19. Books: It’s a Long Way From Penny Apples 19. West End Poetry

Religion, Sex, & Other Sinner Shit 9. Our Sinful Community

20. Campfire Tales - Pike Place Market 21. Skin Deep with Stu 22. 7 Deadly Sins of Foxy Lady 23. Outlaws In G-strings

IFs & BUTs and Candies & Nuts

Publisher: Chuck Foster Layout: Terri Daniels Cover Art : Cirque Bleu - Artists and Model: Deverie Rudd WRITERS, RANTERS, OPINIONISTS & OTHER ALL-OUT FREAKS: Mark Taylor-Canfield Stu Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid Kimberly Peters Paul Blow Jeff Diggs Buddha Matthew Gorman Lucifer Emily Eufinger Saab Lofton Gabriel Zolman Malice Dr. Dick Henry Nicolle Blondie Butler Bill Oberg Jason Sibert 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.

ESSAY | Hello My Friends I

see by our correspondence that we disagree on the issue of accountability of our law enforcement (LEO) members to the People's judgement of what is law and what conduct is acceptable and what is not.

You say that the people in government should not be held personally accountable except after the shooting ends, that presumptions of good conduct should always be granted the government.

You and I will probably always be at cross views on some things. That is about as normal as any good friendship ever gets or should get, I would imagine. We are all different in our individual ways.

Our uniqueness is our personal strength, the fount of prosperity and security for our society. That fact was the inspiration for our Declaration of Independence and for the foundation of our form of self-government.

But, things in our country and society have changed. We have lost the love for Liberty which gave our personal existence good meaning and kept the purpose of our lives in our own hands.We are awash to the gunnels in structured liberty and rebellious ambitions of usurped powers. My friends, the Ship of American Liberty is in the command of pirates and we are being scuttled.

Back when "liberalism and conservatism" cooperatively imposed the beginnings of central authority and centralized management of the circumstances governing our lives, I assumed a personal attitude of presumed compliance as befits

by Henry Nicolle

a Citizen of an occupied country, ruled by invaders or usurpers. I accepted an environment where ethically and practically, if papers are demanded, you get the papers and do not allow the imposition of fraud and deceit to interfere with your life. "You want papers, eh? OK here are some papers. Am I free to go now?"

Today, I refuse to recognize any demand of me for "papers". Authority has not been granted to abuse my Rights or Liberty and abuse of power remains a constant physical and mortal threat to my person, my Rights, my Liberty and my property. This is unacceptable.

My friends, you choose an ambiguous state, neither fish nor fowl, neither free not completely servile. You may cede your Rights and Liberty for the questionable values of benefits and entitlements funded by violence and the threat of violence, but your choice shades our conversation and gathers peculiar company. I cannot criticize your methods of survival, security and prosperity. Sometimes it is best to crouch in the shadow of those who would harm you.

I will not tolerate it in my own life and so I am at odds with the unlawful conduct of the people I criticize, including your friends and associates who claim a "Special Culture". Those are the men and women of our law enforcement community, our prosecutors and judiciary and the minions of their bureaucracies. They act as tyrants.

They are indeed rebels and tyrants, who hold and wield our governing powers today.

Although I hold no personal animosity to anyone, neither do I extend any mercy for those who would deliberately harm me for reasons of "policy" or "obedience to orders". They are thugs, no more, no less. Their ranks and their chain of command are my mortal enemies, regardless of who or what they may be in their private life.

They will kill you and me before they will admit they are wrong to obey tyrants.

They deserve no more respect or consideration in my eyes than any common thief or cutthroat. Their oaths are meaningless once spoken and their word binds nothing of

honor. I include the lot of them in current public service, whatever rank or position. It is a broad brush and a ruthless one, for good and practical reasons. When a "good" public servant strikes us only once while their associates are pounding us like crazy, I cannot perceive a friend or a force for reformation behind any fist.

My warnings that their conduct will destroy them and our society falls upon deaf ears. Worse, when their crimes are illuminated and irrefutably documented, they are offended by the revealing and instead of regret, they retaliate with aggression and violence. They should take to heart my well-meant, well-reasoned and well-documented critical warnings.

If I have not erred too badly in noting our rush to eliminate true Liberty and our urge to surrender our lives, our will and our children to thugs and rebels whose violent conduct is openly evident, people of good will and conduct must suffer along with the evil and the ambitious in the coming storm.

Those who reside for protection in the camp of our common enemy may find their shelter shredding in the gales which immediately precede the storm.

Even if alone, I will stand in the way of tyrants.

Good Luck.

If There Was A Revolution In Iran, Who Would Move Back?

Iranian-Americans in Beverly Hills talk about what it would take for them to return to Iran. written by Karmel Melamed

A

FTER THE COLLAPSE OF IRAQ'S totalitarian dictatorship a years ago, local Iranian-American residents reflect on the option of returning to Iran should its brutal regime also be toppled in the near future. With large number of Iranian-Americans moving to Southern California over the last 25 years, Iran has become a faded memory for many. The majority of Iranians who came to Beverly Hills in the late '70s and '80s believed their stay in the city would be brief during the reign of the Ayatollahs in Iran - little did they know that after two decades they would be permanent residents.

CHANGES IN THE OLD COUNTRY While the US-led war on terrorism is achieving victories and bringing new freedom to Afghanistan and Iraq, Iranian-Americans living in Beverly Hills wonder if neighboring Iran is next in line for a regime change.

"I would definitely go back to visit because a part of me is there, I spent my teenage life there and you can't take away your roots," said Sima Noble, a salesperson at Beverly Hills BMW.

Noble was one many Iranian-American residents who said they initially came to Southern California as college and university students and eventually stayed when the political situation in Iran took a turn for the worse.

"I went to college here in 1975 because I didn't get accepted to the university in Iran, and I've stayed here since then," Noble said.

Local Iranians involved in Persian language newspapers, radio stations, and television programs said Iranians in Beverly Hills and all over Southern California are eager to return to Iran for a visit because of nostalgia for their origins.

"From what I've heard, as soon as the regime changes many [Iranian] people have told me they will take the first flight out to Teheran," said Pari Abasalti, host of a call-in talk show at "Radio Sedaye Iran," a 24-hour FM radio station based in Beverly Hills.

Abasalti, a former member of the Iranian parliament, said some Iranian-Americans like herself who had ties to the late Shah of Iran's government have not traveled to Iran for fear of being imprisoned

by Iran's radical Islamic regime.

"Of the [Iranian-American] people, 99 percent just want to see what has happened to their country," Abasalti said. "I would estimate that more than 50 percent of Iranians in [Southern California] would want to stay in Iran, and the rest would just visit once the regime changes."

Others in the local Iranian media said Iranian-

4

Americans living in Beverly Hills would be unlikely to restart their lives in a democratic Iran because of the prosperity they have achieved in the U.S. "In Beverly Hills, 90 percent of the Iranians are rich and they don't plan on going there [Iran] to live; more of those Iranians from the Valley, Los Angeles, and Orange County would move back there to live," said Ali Limonadi, director and owner of the "Iranian Television" (IRTV), a weekly Persian language television program.

Many Iranian-Americans living in Southern California have already begun traveling to Iran in the last 10 years, said Abasalti, who also heads one of a number of Persian language newspapers in Los Angeles.

"A lot people have traveled to Iran and opened exotic businesses; they have offices and factories in Iran," Abasalti said. "They stay there for a couple of months to handle their businesses and then come back to the United States for a few months."

Several Iranian Americans working in Beverly Hills said some Iranians in the US would develop new businesses in Iran and spark a large influx of trade between the two countries if the regime is overthrown.

"I don't think Iranians here will drop everything and go to Iran forever," said Behzad Mahjour, a 15-year owner of a photography studio on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills.

"Iranians are very clever and from statistics I read they are managing over $400 billion dollars in the U.S. and if the regime changes they could take a lot of their business to Iran."

A few Iranian Americans residents who were once among the religious minorities in Iran said they would not restart their lives in Iran even if the regime changed because of the persecution they encountered from Iran's fundamentalist Islamic government.

"I don't think Iranian Jews would go back to stay there because they have no family and no future there," said Polin Aghaei, a South Tower Drive resident. "The revolution gave Iranian Jews the clear message that it was not safe for them to live there."

A POLITICAL QUAGMIRE

Southern California political activists and experts on Iran said regime change in Iran is imminent in the coming years because of the tremendous social and political repression to which the Iranian population has been subjected by their government. "[Iranian-Americans] are perhaps more hopeful but there is a lot of confusion, said Hossein Ziai, professor and director of Iranian Studies at UCLA. Ziai, who has been teaching the Persian language at UCLA since 1988, said Iranian-Americans in Southern California would make Iran their new homes depending on their personal financial success in the U.S., age, and opportunities available in Iran, and other personal factors.

Some Iranian-Americans monitoring activities in Iran said that unlike Iraqis, the Iranian population is more willing to embrace a democratic form of government because of Iran's modernization and previous exposure to Western ideologies. "[Iranians] are definitely ready for democracy,"

said Abasalti. "It won't be very difficult because parents in Iran have experienced Western life and have told their children about the freedoms of a democracy."

Those Iranian-Americans in contact with their families and friends in Iran, said the majority of Iranians would like to have an elected parliamentary type government in Iran.

"When I speak to political activists, they want a secular government and they want everything to be decided by the people in free elections," said Limonadi, who has been in contact with student resistant movements in Iran via telephone and the Internet.

Limonadi said students living in Iran along with their counterparts in Los Angeles and Washington, D.C. have recently begun organizing plans against the Iranian regime and also with Senator Sam Brownback (R-Kansas) in Washington, D.C. for political assistance.

TRYING TO LIVE THE AMERICAN DREAM With a formidable Iranian Jewish population in Beverly Hills, the Nessah Educational and Cultural Center located on South Rexford Drive has been a focal point to as many as 1,000 Iranian Americans in the city who gather for weekend religious services.

"I have no idea why Iranian Jews have chosen Beverly Hills, but I do have a theory that usually an immigrant community's first place of arrival is where they stay to live together, when you're together you feel more secure and I think this was the case for the Iranian Jews," said Rabbi David Shofet, heading the center's religious services.

Shofet said most of the Iranians in his congregation are uncertain about the political situation in Iran and have been more involved in the continuity of their own traditions since the founding of their organization more than 20 years ago.

"Coming from a revolution, you feel more vulnerable. Choosing Beverly Hills by Jews and nonJews had everything to do with security," said Dariush Fakheri, head of the International Judea Foundation (SIAMAK), an Iranian Jewish organization based in Los Angeles.

Iranian-American residents of Beverly Hills were active in the Judea Foundation's 2000 campaign to bring international attention to the plight of 13 Jews who were falsely accused of treason in the Iranian city of Shiraz, said Fakheri.

Ultimately, the Judea Foundation's IranianAmerican leadership, through the help of the Simon Weisenthal Center, US Congressional figures, and European leaders, was able to pressure the Iranian government from carrying out death sentences for the 13 Jews in Shiraz, said Fakheri. Other IranianAmericans said some Iranians who have immigrated to Southern California have not be as able to enjoy the prosperity of their fellow countrymen.

"There are a lot of Iranian people that are doctors and lawyers, but could not pass the examinations in the US and are not able to do their own work here," said Abasalti. "I know people that were generals in Iran and now they're working in valet parking." The Beverly Hills Adult School has aided Iranian residents in the city who wish to learn English through their free English as a second language courses (ESL), a program which is funded by the state.

After two decades of living in Beverly Hills, Iranian-Americans have become more involved in local government. Recently Jimmy Delshad, an Iranian-

American, was elected to the City Council in part as a result of his campaign which mobilized the Iranian American vote citywide.

AN UNCERTAIN FUTURE WITH HIGH HOPES Some Iranian-Americans contacted for this story said they were optimistic that a new government and new freedoms were on the horizon for those living in their former homeland. Abasalti said those IranianAmericans who would make Iran their new home if the regime should change, will still maintain their strong bonds with the US after living here for more than 20 years.

"If they go to Iran, they won't want to lose their ties to the US, because they still want to see their friends and family and do business with the United States," Abasalti said. Various Iranian-Americans working and living in the city said the collapse of Iran's current regime would cut off funds the Iranian government gives to many terrorist groups and be a potentially tremendous victory for the US War on Terror.

"By removing the Iranian government you could cut off $100 million to terrorist groups like Hamas and those in Lebanon, because Iran right now is the financial root of a lot of terrorist activities around the world," said Mahjour.

Many younger Iranian-Americans living in Beverly Hills who were contacted for this story said they felt more American than Iranian, and would find making a permanent transition to Iran an impossibility after growing up in the city.

"America is my home, where my business is at, and it would be hard to restart a new life over there in Iran," said Barry Cohanim, a 24-year-old resident of North Trenton Drive. Cohanim, who was born in Iran but raised in Beverly Hills, said he would make a one time journey to rediscover his roots in Iran, but preferred to live his life in the US. "I would go [to Iran] just to see where I was from and what areas our family lived in, but I wouldn't want to live there," Cohanim said. "I've gone to school in Beverly Hills, graduated from Beverly High in 1996, and my whole family lives in the city or nearby. There's no point in living in Iran when I'm so connected to this city."

Other younger Iranians said that while they would not move to back to Iran, they would still support any movements in the US or abroad set out to democratize Iran.

"We as Iranian-Americans can't help but feel a dynamic responsibility to support these legitimate aspirations for democracy and freedom [in Iran], said Sam Yebri, a 22-year-old Iranian-American and 11year resident of North Hillcrest Road.

Yebri, who was born in Iran and later immigrated to Southern California in 1983 during the Iran-Iraq War, said he would visit a secular and non-hostile Iran in the future but still preferred to start his own family one day in Beverly Hills.

"As for Beverly Hills, I could not imagine a better place to live, grow, and raise children," said Yebri.

Karmel Melamed is a freelance reporter and writer in Southern California, karmelmelamed@yahoo.com * This story was published in the Beverly Hills Weekly Newspaper.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

Corporate Wars

By Mark Taylor-Canfield

Recently I had an opportunity to interview Travis Bishop, a former US soldier who was sentenced to a year in prison at Fort Lewis after being court marshaled for refusing to deploy to Afghanistan in 2009. Sgt. Bishop had already served in two military hot spots - the demilitarized zone between North and South Korea, and in Bagdad, Iraq just outside of the so-called “Green Zone”.

Bishop became disillusioned with his service in the army. After failing to deploy to Afghanistan, he applied for Conscientious Objector status but the US Army claimed that since he had already served in Iraq and South Korea, his CO application was invalid. The army CO regulations require the applicant to be opposed to all forms of war for religious, cultural or intellectual reasons.

Bishop served a total of seven months in the brig at Fort Lewis where he says some guards treated him “like a terrorist”. The US Army demoted him from a Sergeant to a Private and he is now facing a dishonorable discharge from the military.

Amnesty International designated Travis Bishop as a “prisoner of conscience”. The judge in his court marshal case received over 400 letters requesting amnesty in his behalf. As a result, Bishop was released almost four months early.

During our interview, Bishop mentioned a few issues which really struck me as relevant to any discussion of war and empire. One of these topics was the subject of US business interests and their involvement in the US wars of occupation in Afghanistan and Iraq.

His remarks became very intense when we started talking about his personal experience of the US occupied “Green Zone” in Bagdad. He said he couldn’t believe that American conveniences like Taco Bell and Dunkin’ Donuts franchises were doing business and were constantly available to US personnel while just outside of the protected “Green Zone”, people were being killed by daily rounds of artillery fired at the US compounds by insurgents.

This inescapable irony of seeing comfort side by side with organized violence eventually caused Bishop to begin to question the official role of the United States in Iraq. The fact that US companies were making a profit in Iraq while he and his fellow troops were putting their lives on the line for their sake made him question the stated military mission.

After meeting with some anti-war activists at a radical coffee shop outside of Fort Hood, Texas, Bishop made his decision to resist. He decided that he could not in good conscience kill another human being in Afghanistan or Iraq for the sake of false goals and misleading corporate propaganda.

He is very forthright with his opinions about the war in Iraq. When discussing his military deployment in Bagdad, Travis told me, “Bottom line. In my personal opinion, I think we are there for oil and strategic military positioning. I know that they didn’t find any weapons of mass destruction over there, you know? So, either the billions of dollars they’re pouring into the intelligence community is totally going to waste, or we had other reasons to go.”

Bishop admits he has not been a good student of history or politics in the past. Until he found out about Conscientious Objector status, he was under the impression that he and Lt. Ehren Watada were the only soldiers in the army who had refused to deploy as a result of their personal beliefs about those wars. He says, “My political education has just recently started.”

At his court marshal trial on August 14th, 2009 Travis Bishop was sentenced to a year as an inmate at the Northwest Joint Regional Correctional Facility at Fort Lewis near Tacoma, Wa. He was released on March 25th, 2010.

While in jail, Bishop read books about famous social justice movements. “I read Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau.

That was a great essay. It was a long hard read but it had some good points. I also read Why We Can’t Wait by Dr. Martin Luther King, which is a great book about non-violent protesting – solving problems with peace and strength in numbers. I’m definitely more well-read. I tried to educate myself as much as possible.”

While in prison at Fort Lewis, Bishop and his attorney helped bring attention to the mistreatment of soldiers at the Northwest Joint Regional Correctional Facility. Advocacy efforts by his lawyer led to news media coverage which forced the US military to change some of their policies regarding the rights of prisoners. As a result military prison administrators at Fort Lewis increased access to private sessions with legal council and began to enforce proper military conduct during strip searches.

Despite these improvements, Bishop still does not hesitate in lodging complaints about his treatment at the Fort Lewis prison. “There were definitely some guards who did not treat us very professionally at all...we were definitely held in the same regard as terrorists at Guantanamo. And, in fact, one guard in particular said we were no better than the terrorists at Guantanamo, which is very disconcerting. I feel that a good amount of them in there did look at us as if we were the enemy – as if we were no better than the enemy.”

Although the psychological treatment he received from some guards may have been quite harsh, Travis Bishop says the large number of letters of support he received helped him cope with his confinement. “I think that the letters kept me sane, for certain. And just knowing that there were people out there that were supporting me is pretty much what I think got me through.”

“I would say that overall I’m a better person from it. I know a lot of people have gone through much more than I have, and I would do it again.”

Bishop, who is also a professional musician, says he plans to continue speaking out against the wars and he hopes to become a spokesperson for conscientious objection to military service.

“I want to remain active in the movement. I still want to write, I still want to speak out. I want to make sure to be a subject matter expert on conscientious objection. I want to make it known about the fact that the military court system, in my opinion, is flawed and I believe there are a lot of people in prison for things they should never have been jailed for. I want to try to better the conditions in the facility at Fort Lewis. Now I have friends there and I’m not in there but I know what they’re going through. It’s just got to get better.”

For more information on soldiers like Travis Bishop and Lt. Ehren Watada who have become war resisters, go to: www.couragetoresist.org

T h e R e a l We l f a r e C h e a t s written by Saab Lofton If you’ve been wondering why the confrontations with those teabaggers have been so heated, it’s because of ignorance: A handful of corporations own every major mass media outlet there is, and it’s simply not in their interests to tell a teabagger that free, universal health care would be less than nothing compared to what corporate bail outs have cost us. So when it comes time to talk about economics, the poor are thoroughly demonized while the rich are let off the hook: On the one hand...

“During his stump speeches, Reagan often told the story of a so-called welfare queen in Chicago who drove a Cadillac and had ripped off $150,000 from the government using 80 aliases, 30 addresses, a dozen Social Security cards and four fictional dead husbands. Reagan dutifully promised to roll back welfare. Journalists searched for this welfare cheat and discovered that she didn’t exist. Nevertheless, he kept using the anecdote.”

– Peter Dreier, director of urban policy at Occidental College ... and on the other hand ...

“Even though an Army audit determined that $263 million of charges by Halliburton were exaggerated or unjustified on its $2.41 billion no-bid contract for fuel deliveries and oil equipment repair in Iraq, the Army said it will pay all but $10.1 million of it …Halliburton is the company whose subsidiary, Kellogg, Brown & Root, charged you and me $100 for a bag of laundry and $45 for a case of soda in Iraq.”

– The Boston Globe, March 1, 2006 ...so of course you’re going to have crazed white suburbanites packing heat dangerously close to elected officials and so forth! They don’t know who the real welfare cheats are! Obviously, there’s a white supremacist element to it: “Garsh-darn-it! I don’t want my taxes payin’ for social programs that’ll help them nigras breed me out!”

At the same time, according to the Rev. Jesse Jackson, “A coal miner still dies every six hours from black lung disease.” And dollars to donuts says the teabaggers don’t give a damn about poor white trash either.

If I was the black supremacist all too many make me out to be, I’d have used my two hundred plus IQ to devise a way to wipe y’all out by now, supervillain style. Instead, I try to explain that you people are being hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray, run amok – but NO, I will NOT be gentle about it. Unlike those dainty hippies, I don’t care if your feelings are hurt.

Why not? Because if you’d rather your taxes pay for a nuclear missile than subsidize the low income housing I depend on to survive (corporate censorship keeps me from being able to afford anything else), then I consider that callous inconsideration to be an act of WAR. Nevertheless, we the people can make it to The Promised Land. It’s a known fact that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was a hardcore Trekkie and I’m sure the utopian vision of Gene Roddenberry was exactly what King meant when he said, “I have a dream.” To get from here to there, the rich MUST be taxed and that bloated military budget MUST be cut so we can afford a Greenpeace version of F.D.R.’s New Deal; pay the poor a living wage to erect windmills, install solar power panels and grow/process industrial hemp, which can make fuel, fabric, paper and plastic.

However, the two chickenshit excuses most often heard insofar as why the aforementioned is supposedly impossible are Human Nature (even though there’s NO such thing) and the Biblical Rapture/the Mayan Calendar. So either our D.N.A. is at fault (which is a racist statement, since it condemns the entire Human race) or the world’s coming to an end – in which case, we should simply play video games and max out credit cards at The Mall until The Apocalypse. Well, as the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live would say, “How convenient...!”

How convenient for the elite – their MTV Cribs lifestyles won’t be taxed to provide revenue for eco-friendly job creation because you’re retarded enough to believe there’s something inherent in our genetics that prohibits a better standard of living! How convenient for the military-industrial complex – God knows how many (non-white) people in the so-called third world will suffer and die because you’re retarded enough to believe that their suffering and dying is merely divine prophecy fulfilling itself!

Throughout the madness that was the Cold War, the Libertarians of the west and the Stalinists of the east forced everyone at gunpoint to choose between free expression and free social services.

It’s as clinically insane as asking whether you want to lose your eyesight or your hearing. Obviously, anyone in their right mind wants to see AND hear, and likewise, Scandinavian countries such as Norway (which has the lowest murder rate on Earth) have proven for YEARS that we can have BOTH free speech AND free health care. In fact, the United Nations voted Norway as the world’s most livable country.

That’s right – the Cold War was a complete waste of time, money and energy. Deal with it…

Who could’ve predicted the Norwegians would save the world?

6

myspace.com/stlouissinner

Illegal Immigration is destroying the American Dream

by Jeff Diggs

I

n 2007, the Educational Testing Services (ETS) released an alarming study regarding the educational competency of the average American resident by 2030.

The study combined information from test scores with demographic trends to predict that the U.S. work force will become less literate, less skilled and receive lower pay than the U.S. work force of 1990. ETS reported: "... by 2030 the average levels of literacy and numeracy in the working-age population will have decreased by about 5 percent while inequality will have increased by about 7 percent. Put crudely, over the next 25 years or so, as better-educated individuals leave the work force they will be replaced by those who, on average, have lower levels of education and skill."

It sounds odd that the U.S. work force would be getting less intelligent. The ETS attributes this change to immigration and has identified these trends in communities that are inundated with illegal immigrants. In the last decade half of all immigrants to the U.S. arrived illegally. Nearly all of those have since received amnesty. Since 1970, America's largest source of immigrants have been Latin America, especially Mexico. More than half of these Latino immigrants lack a high school diploma. Compared to Canada, more than half of all immigrants to Canada possess a university degree. Half of all Canada's Ph.D.s are foreign-born immigrants.

America isn’t choosing poorly educated immigrants.

These immigrants are choosing the U.S. and are entering illegally. To make matters worse, these illegal immigrants are not attempting to improve their children’s lives through better education. A study by Stephen Trejo and Jeffrey Groger discovered that third-generation Mexican-Americans were no more likely to finish high school than second-generation Mexican-Americans. Fourth-generation Mexican-Americans did no better than third. If these results continue to hold, the U.S. work force will suffer greatly in to the next century.

Failure to enforce immigration laws over the last 30 years has left America with more poorly skilled workers, more poverty and more families without health insurance. Let’s take a look at two U.S. workers today, in 2010: Joe Legal and José Illegal.

Both Joe Legal and José Illegal have a wife, two young children, and live in the same southern California community. Joe Legal works in construction, has a Social Security Number and makes $25.00 per hour with taxes deducted. José Illegal also works in construction, has NO Social Security Number, and gets paid $15.00 per hour cash "under the table". Now pay attention...

Joe Legal: $25.00 per hour x 40 hours = $1000.00 per week or $52,000.00 per year. Now take 30% away for state and federal tax. Joe Legal now has $31,231.00.

José Illegal: $15.00 per hour x 40 hours = $600.00 per week or $31,200.0 0 per year. José Illegal pays no taxes. José Illegal now has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays medical and dental insurance with limited coverage and outrageously high deductibles for his family at $600.00 per month or $7,200.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $24,031.00.

José Illegal has no documented income which qualifies him and his entire family for full medical and dental coverage through the state and local clinics at a cost of $0.00 per year. José Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal makes too much money and is not eligible for food stamps or welfare. Joe Legal pays $500.00 per month for food or $6,000.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $18,031.00.

José Illegal and his wife have no documented income and are eligible for food stamps and welfare. José Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays rent of $1,200.00 per month or $14,400.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $9,631.00.

José Illegal receives a $500.00 per month federal rent subsidy. José Illegal pays out that $500.00 per month or $6,000.00 per year. José Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays $200.00 per month or $2,400.00 yearly for auto insurance.

Joe Legal now has $7,231.00.

José Illegal doesn’t have a valid U.S. driver’s license since he is an illegal and is unable to get auto insurance. José Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal has to make his $7,231.00 stretch to pay utilities, gasoline, etc.

José Illegal has to make his $31,200.00 stretch to pay utilities, gasoline, etc. José Illegal sends lots of his money back to Mexico so his other relatives can enter the U.S. illegally.

Joe Legal works overtime on Saturdays and his wife gets a part time job to help supplement raising their family. José Illegal and his wife have nights and weekends off to enjoy with their family.

Joe Legal's and José Illegal's children both attend the same school. Joe Legal pays for his children's lunches while José Illegal's children get a government sponsored lunch. José Illegal's children have an after school ESL program. Joe Legal's children go home.

Joe Legal and José Illegal both enjoy the same police and fire services but Joe Legal paid for both of them while José Illegal did not.

Science, Spirituality, Art and Relationships

By Jason Sibert

W

hen I was growing up the world of relationships seemed so simple. You dated awhile, found the person you wanted to be with, married, and lived happily ever after. I guess my views are somewhat tainted because I’m one of the few of my generation who grew up in a home with biological siblings and biological parents.

The views of a teen growing up in a small Midwestern town seem infantile now that I’m experienced in the world of relationships. When discussing relationships the term soul is often used. It’s a term that takes us on a journey into the realm of faith and spirituality. Soul is a concept used in spiritual and religious discussions. Has anyone ever seen a soul? Like many concepts in spirituality and religion, most definitions of the soul require belief in the absence of reason. Is there any reason to believe in true and forever love without suspending reason? Not really, if one considers our sky high divorce rates, our tendency to dump boyfriends and girlfriends at a whim, and the common ritual of hating someone who was once described as a love.

Why do we keep pursuing our soul mate if there is no hope? We believe for the same reason that we believe in UFO abductions, ghosts, past lives and astrological charts. We want to believe that something will save us from the problems of ordinary existence.

Science rejects belief in the absence of reason. Thales of Miletus, an ancient Greek scientist, was the first to describe our world in natural other than supernatural terms. Greek scientists used reason and mathematics to comprehend the world around them. In the centuries that followed men like Galileo, Newton and Einstein applied Thales’ basic ideas to solve scientific riddles. Were these men totally devoid of the world of spirituality? No. All of them believed in God. Einstein believed in the God of Jewish Philosopher Baruch Spinoza - a God that was the sum of the physical laws of the universe.

Both Spinoza and Einstein were very spiritual men, as they believed there was more to the universe than what meets the eye, but they were willing to let their spiritual longings be subject to the rigors of human reason.

Like science, art explores our experience of the universe, but it doesn’t confine itself to the workings of the natural world. Artists of all sorts – men as diverse as Shakespeare and Hank Williams - ponder the world of love and human relationships, and in doing so, they also touch the realm of spirituality.

In my view, many who boast that they’ve found their perfect soul mate are much less spiritual than they think they are, as they don’t explore the universe like an Einstein or a Galileo, or any number of artists, would. Instead, they’re obsessed with using only their imagination to create that perfect partner.

Oftentimes it’s a vision which no one in the real world could ever live up to. Science and art allow us to explore our views of the universe and our place in it, but also tell us things we don’t want to hear. And they both have something to teach us.

Do we ever experience a feeling of oneness, or something much greater than ourselves, when on our eternal quest for that soul mate? Yes. But is that feeling a feeling we experience all of the time?

No. One of the keys to human relationships, any relationship, is learning to understand that we’re all different in some ways. If no people are totally the same then we can’t be joined at the hip with someone for eternity.

Our headlines are sometimes filled with stories of crimes of passion - one party in a relationship turns violent when he or she doesn’t get what they want. What affect would it have on our society if we were to take a more scientific - and also spiritual - look at our relationships? We would benefit with drastically lower crime rates and a more harmonious society. We desperately need a change of consciousness on the meaning of spirituality in our relationships.

8

myspace.com/stlouissinner

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

OUR SINFUL COMMUNITY!

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!

STEEL & INK’s Ink’n 4 Crohn’s

HOWDY FOLKS! Most of you out there know that I usually take a comical approach with this show, and with each of our fine guests. Well, tonight, I’m going to put on my straight face for a very serious issue, Crohn’s Disease, and for our guests, James and Brandie Rogers from Steel & Ink Tattoo Studio, who are throwing a fundraiser to help find a cure. So everyone please give James and Brandie a sinful welcome!

Hey guys, how are you doing tonight?

Great, Chet. Just glad to be here.

Well, let me say, that even though I don’t have any body art myself, the two of you just look way cool. So tell the fine folks in our audience about Steel & Ink Studio.

We opened Steel and Ink Studio about a year ago for our clients to enjoy an inviting environment for all of St. Louis’ Body Modification needs.

How’s St. Louis been treating the two of you so far?

I have to admit that St. Louis has shown Steel and Ink mad love. We are truly privileged to be able to offer our skills to St. Louis.

So guys, how did you come up with this fundraiser, do either of you suffer from Crohn’s Disease?

Honestly, Chet, the idea of Ink’n 4 Crohn’s came while rapping with Jeff of 105.7 the point. As listeners know Jeff suffers from Crohn’s. Crohn’s disease is a chronic inflammatory disease of the intestines. It primarily causes ulcerations (breaks in the lining) of the small and large intestines, but can affect the digestive system anywhere from the mouth to the anus. Crohn’s disease affects 1 million people in the US. It may occur in people of all ages, but is primarily a disease of young adults and adolescents, mainly those between 15 and 35 years of age.

In fact, 10% of those affected, estimated to be 100,000, are youngsters under the age of 18. There is no cure for Crohn’s disease, but it is currently suppressed with medication.

What’s the overall picture of this fundraiser, you know, the when and where?

Ink’n 4 Crohn’s is a 24 hour event starting at 6pm on May 21st and ending on May 22 at 6pm. We are offering 15 minute tattoo intervals for $10.57 each. Piercings will also be available for $10.57. We have LIVE MUSIC, food and beverage, mystery raffles, and 105.7 the Point as well as the CCFA will be present both days.

From what I heard backstage, aren’t you guys also trying to break the world record for tattoos at the same time?

Well, Chet, we have changed course on setting the record. We are more concerned about making proceeds for the CCFA and slingin’ ink.

Let’s talk about the live music you have planned, because I know all of our viewers love to get out and shake it every once in a while. So who do you have?

As for as live music, we are having Point Blank and Iggy, The Rough Riders coming from southern California, the Spark Thugs, The Haddenfields, and Granite Cloud from St. Louis to name a few.

What about donations for this fundraiser, since some folks out there might be out of town or not into the whole tattoo and music scene but still want to help the cause. So, is this possible without attending?

Yes, most definitely. We will be accepting donations on the days of the event at Steel & Ink studio, 3561 Ritz center, St. Louis, MO 63125. (314)892-2828. You can also make a donation to the CCFA at any time.

Are you guys in need of anything else to make this gig run smoothly?

We sure are, Chet. We are in need of volunteers and any additional sponsors will be greatly appreciated. If interested, please contact Brandie or James at (314)892-2828.

Well gang, that’s about it for our show tonight, we’re all out of time. I wanted to thank for you taking the time to come down here, and for all your hard work with this cause. Everyone please give James and Brandie a sinful farewell. And be sure to get down to Steel & Ink on May 21 or 22nd to support a great cause, and to have a little fun while doing so. Who knows, James, I might just come down and get one of those tattoos for ten bucks, too!

9

Bitching with Buddha Lu c i fe r

Dear Evil One, You are a bad, bad man. When the rapture comes, the Angles are going to swoop down and kick your ass and carry the good off to our heavenly reward. I look forward to the day you are smitten.

Cordially, Holier Than Thou Well HTT, Not very Christian of you to lust for the end of the world so you can see me get my ass whipped. The Rapture? Do you mean Rapture II, the sequel? I’ll let you in on a little secret, the rapture came and went over a thousand years ago. We demons over ran this earthly plane killing and partying on the wicked as holy UFOs swooped down to carry off the “good” leaving the rest to our lusty claws. Once we took control, we swept it all under the table and called it the Black Plague, then we created a social order that would keep you ours forever. In that system, which you call your Western Civilization, we created a standard of living whose comfort and luxury is built on the back of the exploited, but which all can aspire to. All you need to play is to kneel before the golden coin and a willingness to screw your friends.

All the wars fought in the last thousand years of our reign on earth were for resources so you can have your toys, furs and gold status ornaments. War is a wonderful profit generator, and job creator. After all, somebody has to manufacture the guns and body bags, right?

But let’s talk about you. You have a nice sort of life, with a job you hate, and a mortgage for a piece of shit house that’s worth less than what you still owe on it. A lot less.

Remember those job interviews? You aren’t really “excited by customer service”, are you? Answering the same stupid little questions over and over again. Isn’t that friendly smile really a lie when what you really want to say is, “Can’t you fuckers read the sign?”

Did you watch your retirement savings evaporate after all those reassurances that your money was safe in the hands of investment bankers? Don’t you wish you had blown it all on whores and booze? You were never “cast out” of Eden, that’s just a con your ancestors came up with to hide their shame. The truth is they plowed the whole thing under to make way for shopping malls, factories, track housing, and even parks. You need a job to earn money for rent and food, and who but a demon would have created a system where you have to earn a living bulldozing Eden?

If I were you, I’d embrace this game we play and don’t waste your life in an effort for piousness. You might as well hop into the porn industry and earn your living screwing. If you really think about it, who would you be fucking? If you’re really smart you can go for the really big bucks and screw an entire country of its wealth for Goldman Sachs. There are worst ways of making a living, or do you also get a kick from evicting families into homelessness?

- Lu, the Darkest Demon Lord.

If you want to talk to God, see a psychiatrist, or email: god@theseattlesinner.com. To intercourse with the dark lord Lucifer, drink a bottle of Everclear, or email: lucifer@theseattlesinner.com.

10

myspace.com/stlouissinner

BANDS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT… Because when Malice tells you to go check out this band, Homie, you do it. No questions asked.

by Paul Ace Diamond “Huggy” Blow

people sometimes ask me, “Mr. Paul Diamond “Huggy” Blow, why do you continue to play in a rock band these days? You don’t make any money, your ears ring all the time, and nobody buys your CDs... plus rock bands are out of fashion these days anyways. Why do you do it, man?

Why don’t you become a DJ instead?” Those are all valid points, and I could be one-heckuva DJ, but there still are some good reasons to play music in an old-fashioned rock band these days. Several months ago I listed three valid reasons to play in a rock band (it’s a good excuse to drink beer; for the chicks; because you like to act crazy), and here are three more gosh-dang good reasons to play in a real rock band, even though it’s out of fashion and dangerous to your health and welfare:

DUST AND BONES is one of the best kept dirty little secrets out in the cornfields of Illinois.

I LOVE this band! Every time I see them they have something new to offer, as well as delivering the very BEST in Old-School Sleaze Rawk. “The Boners”, as I affectionately call them, are far more than just another cheesy cover band – and yes, they did, once upon a time, do covers and played some pretty cheesy stuff, but they were so GOOD at it. They did Poison better than Bret Michaels, Warrant better than Jani, maybe even a little Bon Jovi, and possibly some Cinderella. But that’s all

1) Because you like to hit things and make a lot of noise: This goes mostly for rock drummers.

Drummers get to thrash about – arms and legs flailing – hitting the snare, toms and cymbals, all the while kicking the kick drum with their feet. In an average thirty minute rock & roll set a drummer will beat on the snare drum alone a whopping 600-1000 times, depending on the speed of the songs.

That’s a lot of hitting! It’s good exercise, too. And did you know that the average snare hit averages around 110 decibels? That’s louder than loud, that’s a lot of noise! If you love to hit things and make noise and don’t want to go to jail for it, being a drummer in a rock band is for you, you just need a drum set and the ability to keep a beat, man!

2) Because you wanna be a rock star: This, or course, is the obvious reason... you wanna be a rock star. Yes, you’ve gone to the concerts to see your favorite bands and there they are on stage in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of screaming, adoring, loving fans; strutting their stuff on stage, making a lot of noise, posing and posturing, rocking their hearts out, and getting paid for it. You say to yourself, “That’s what I wanna do!” So you go to the local Guitar Center, spend some hard earned mula on a guitar and amp and jam some songs in your bedroom in front of your mirror. Sorry, friend, that ain’t quite cutting it – you need to start or find yourself a REAL rock band and do it for real!

Yes... then and ONLY then do you have a chance of being a real rock star, because as you may or not know, being in a real rock band means anything can happen at any time. The possibilities are endless – your band could take off at any time, become huge, and YOU TOO, my friend, could make out to being the next big thing... a real rock star. And if that does not happen (as in most cases) at least you can be a rock star in your own basement, your own practice studio, or at least in your own mirror.

Yes, it is a fantasy but fantasies do make life more interesting, and that’s the best reason for being in a rock band – the rock star fantasy rules!

small crowd, but their recent turnout a half a year later was SPECTACULAR! These guys brought down the roof! Their showmanship never disappointed and their stage performance was The Ultimate Party Scene. There’s always nudity… well, Nick takes off his shirt around song #4 (every time), then the girlies, not wearin’ much, always climb onstage to dance. It was a standing room only crowd, with people even hanging from the rafters.

Their new songs have more substance, a much harder edge, and rock me to my socks!

Less cheese, more SLEAZE please…and Boy Howdy do they ever DELIVER! Their new single, “This Is My Love Song”, is one that I can easily imagine hearing on 105.7. More than a few of their new songs have that Megadeth thunder, a Judas Priest undertone, Metallica in the early days feel.

Dirty songs and dirtier moves… flashy showmanship, amazing vocals, and did I mention Nick plays harmonica like nobody’s business? If you were there, you know what I mean. If you weren’t there, you’ll just have to see it for yourself.

So, by now you know the drill: look these guys up on Myspace (www.myspace.com/ dustandbonesroxxx), find out when and where they’re playin’ next, and shag your happy asses to their show. You’ll be glad you did. Sleaze Rawk is THE cure for whatever ails ya! Buy their merch, sport their shirts, blast their

HUGGY BLOW’S ROCK STAR OF THE MONTH: Kory Clarke: I’ve sung the praises of Kory Clarke a few times before but you are probably saying, “Who the heck is Kory Clarke?” I never heard of Kory Clarke either until 1998 when his band the Space Age Playboys was the number one rock band on the Mp3.com charts for months. That band blew me away but sadly didn’t last too long. Turns out Kory Clarke has been singing for years in a band called Warrior Soul, and while that band’s first few albums did not impress me, what did impress me was Kory’s vocal style: a higher ranged, raspy, sleazy-as-heck ROCK voice (one part Iggy pop, one part Jim Morrison, one part sleazy rocker) that actually contains some melody and rhythmic nuances I’ve never heard done before. Yes, Kory Clarke’s voice and singing just plain turns me on and his voice to me is the ULTIMATE Rock Voice... check him and his band Warrior Soul out and you will see. Not only does Kory Clarke possess the ultimate Rock voice, but his lyrics – while often times highly political and bitter – are some of the best lyrics in rock music I’ve heard. Lately Kory has been supplementing his career by singing for some less-than-stellar rock bands that shall remain nameless, but I must say his rock voice makes a subpar rock band sound good and I always enjoy listening to his work. Kory also does a very cool spoken word thing that I dig very much and that gives him extra “cool” points in my book and combined with his super cool rock vocal skills makes him my Rock Rock’n’roll badboy Kory Clarke Star of the Month. Keep rocking the area, Kory!

in the past. The band has evolved with its own sound, an all-out full frontal assault, bringing back that sleazy, gritty sound. Their first CD, Voodoo, is a lot fo fun to listen to, especially if you’ve ever seen them play (you’ll think back to the show, this part is where he did THAT).

Their single “Feed My Disease” ( a kind of Bullet Boys “Smooth Up” vibe) is a crowd pleaser, as is the hilarious “Whisky Dick” (this is the song where he walks on the bar),“She’s On Fire” and “Ready, Willing, & Able” (let’s get sweaty, sticky & sore)…

Nick is known to strut across the tops of bars, wander out into the crowd, and dance with the girlies on the balcony, but you don’t want to spend too much time watching Nick (but how much is too much?), because you’ll miss the ever-entertaining stunts from Sean, one of the most outstanding guitar players I have ever seen. Big Dawg is also a talent to be reckoned with, he’s got some AMAZING pipes on him as well as being one Bad Ass bass player. And not to forget Ryan on drums, the man is FIERCE and FEARLESS ( enthusiastic pounding will always grab my attention). They’ve got a stage presence LARGER THAN LIFE and they’re some of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, too.

Sometime ago Dust and Bones opened for Platinum Rose at The Library to a ridiculously

CD… and know that we are lucky to have them right here in our own backyard and not off in Hollywood somewhere bein’ famous rockstrars and stuff. Tell ‘em Malice sent ya:)...

See you all at the next Boners’ show!!

11

“We had it all, lack of focus, girls, drugs, alcohol, internal feuds, and feelings of uncertainty and direction. It was definitely a dark time...”

UNMASKED T

he music industry is filled with stories of bands who have risen, fallen, and risen again. These roller coaster tales are usually plagued with groupies, drugs, egos, attitudes and, too often, tragedy. Of course, these accounts are not confined to the elite national bands who we drool upon on MTV and befriend on MySpace and Facebook. The music industry is a beast blind to fame, color, age and genre. It devours up-and-coming bands with the same ferocity it does any other of fame, and this month’s featured band, D-Railed, is no exception. Theirs is a tale of swift notoriety, an abrupt fall from grace, and a rise from the burnt ashes of tribulation.

The band today is Tim Standrige on vocals, Pablo De Pacas on Lead Guitar and vocals, Justin Ruesch on Rhythm guitar and vocals, Deedz on Bass and Vocals, and Brian Cassanover on Drums. Brian Cassanover admits the band has had its share of ups and downs over the last five years. He explains that just as the band was making its debut run of success a few years back, the band suffered a major blow when their good friend and brother, David Gidcumb (Aka Wolf), suddenly died from a blood clot in his lung. When the band formed back in 2005 Wolf was one of the original guitar players, but he eventually left the line up to focus on promotion and art after creating the band’s tribal logo and Demona D-Railed photo. Wolf’s departure from guitar opened the door for Pablo De Pacas, but the band considered Wolf its sixth member. His death led to the release of “Gone” as a tribute to their fallen brother, but Brian says that this was when the band began to spiral out of control, “We had it all, lack of focus, girls, drugs, alcohol, internal feuds, and feelings of uncertainty and direction. It was definitely a dark time...”

While the band spiraled out of control with

14

spirits shattered, they actually hit a huge milestone, their first national radio single, “The Fallen”. From the surface the skies may have looked cloudless, but a storm was about to hit. Their bassist at the time, PJ, had reached his breaking point with the band. He left the line up of D-Railed but agreed to record the band’s 3 song EP at Trailer Studios, leaving on good terms, something very rare in this industry. This seemed to be the final blow for D-Railed when they couldn’t find a replacement for PJ, leading to internal feuds and, eventually, self destruction. Brian says that Pablo then put distance between the band and himself, going as far as pursuing new projects.

This led to the complete fold of D-Railed. In its apparent death, however, a lifeless body took its first gasp of healing air.

During this process Justin and Brian created Sonic Recoil, starving for the only food that nourishes the soul, music. The two eventually convinced Tim Standrige to join their new project, creating a fresh beginning for the three. Then something strange happened, an offer to sign the former band, D-Railed, to a record deal. Brian says that this is just what the band needed, “During our down time, everyone got it together. The drama stopped, the reckless behavior and wild parties stopped, and the healing began. So we all met up and hashed out our problems leading to the reuniting of all five of us... including the return of PJ.” This unexpected reunion led to a deal with Deka Records and the band’s first national radio push. PJ’s time with D-Railed was short lived as his other project began to take off, but this time the band found Deedz to fill his spot, who Brian says brought a new energy the band needed.

During D-Railed’s hiatus Deedz says the band was going through a lot of preparation to roll out their new music and have it come across with the energy and excitement they had put into it when recording.

Through this time of blood, sweat and tears a bond had been created which brought them closer than ever before and they believe you can both hear and see it. Deedz

concedes that it was also a chance for the band to do some self reflection, tie up any loose ends and work on their chops, adding “No one is perfect, but there are those who strive to be.” While D-Railed committed themselves to preparations for their return, they also pushed their new tracks nationally. Brian says that they were picked up in over 30 markets and played in regular rotation, (unfortunately St. Louis not being one if them). D-Railed even charted in the top ten in a few markets, making it all the way to the #4 spot on I-Rock 97 in Bloomington Il. The band also signed a new Record deal with ARI Records in LA, their current label, and traveled to Boston in February of this year where they recorded three new tracks at Time Bomb studios with producer David Adam Monroe. Brian says that fans can expect the new tracks to be released this summer.

Beyond D-Railed’s travels and recordings, the band inherited new management and took on another massive project, their first music video. The band’s now managed by Terry Lewis who is well known in St. Louis for his photography skills and as someone who has been in the music industry for some time. Brian says that Terry “brings the hammer to the table for D-Railed” and that’ he’s brutally honest with the band giving them a fresh perspective and much needed leadership to help keep them organized. Terry’s complimented by the partnership of Randy Sadd of Protocal Entertainment, who works the national circuit for D-Railed. Brian says that Terry and Randy are their one-two punch! Then the band began production for their new video “Fallen” last December with the help of Darryl of St. Luniverse Studios. The video is almost complete and ready for release, and the band’s expecting to release a video of “I’ll Be there” shortly after The Fallen video is released.

I asked the band what has been their toughest challenge to overcome as a group. Deedz says that it’s trying to work in some good shows and not get bent over in the process, meaning that there is always someone out to make a dollar off of you and not really worried about the work and dedication the band puts into what they do. “It can create riffs internally within the band and at times that can be stressful.” Justin says that he thinks the toughest challenge is agreeing on what is the best thing to do, meaning that they all have different opinions on everything and it can be frustrating. Brian takes this less seriously, chiming in with a joke, “These days paying our practice space rent on time is our toughest challenge...

Really, we are starving musicians. Fortunately our good friend, Jimi Gunn at Brew House studios at the Lemp Brewery, has been patient with us.” On a deeper chord, the band says that there have been numerous rewards for them, too. Deedz says they’re still playing and playing with a fire so bright no one can put it out, that they each are blessed with a gift not a lot of people have, and they realize that. For Brian it’s playing live for fans, that D-Railed loves interacting with the crowd and having a good time. “We truly appreciate everyone who comes out to support us. We call them our friends and family, our D-Railed soldiers.”

Having dealt first hand with the sins of sex, drugs and rock & roll, I asked the band which sins they were most guilty of. While some of the band pleaded the 5th, Deedz didn’t hesitate with his confession. He admits to being most guilt of Envy, “To play in front of 10,000 people and hear them sing your words and watch them rock out to your music and watch it affect them first hand - wow, what a feeling that would be.” He also confesses to being guilty of Pride when it comes to perfecting his music, and of wrath when it comes to all their critics who said they wouldn’t make it. To them he says, “We hit each show with such a level of energy and the goal

written by Chuck Foster

of transferring that to the crowd and shaking STL so all those doubters hear the echoing of, ‘We’re still here...’”.

Justin’s confession is a bit more broad, “You name it and I’m sure at least one of us is guilty of it.”

I was sure a sinful band like D-Railed would have a few tales of backstage groupies and such, so I asked.

“We have had it all. My most memorable moments would probably be back stage at Pops. Beautiful girls... You know who you are... Bearing it all and putting on a show of their own sorts while a crowd looked on... I think you get the picture. We have signed just about every body part you can think of. We call it fan appreciation!” laughs Brian. Justin mentions that he has too many stories to share, but believes they had a lot more groupies a few years ago. “I think they found god or something.” Deedz says he has stories to share, but none in particular that he would share in a magazine, laughing throughout! The other half of that question was about the media hype behind groupie tales. Deedz believes that the media has a tendency to over hype everything, that it’s what sells. “It creates this persona of all the hungry wild girls that follow bands around and are at their beckoned call. In reality those girls and people are simply passionate about their music and show their dedication by showing up to their shows and spreading the word. Groupies is a word that describes a hard-core fan, and without our fans we are nothing.”

Lastly D-Railed wanted to shout a few thanks to all their fans, friends and families for their continued support. The guys also wanted to thank everybody who has stuck with them over the last couple of years, through all the troubled times: Daryl (St. Luniverse), Teddy (u know), Sarah (Napalm), and the Russ (Sonic Recoil) to name just a few. The rest of you, you know who you are. Lastly, they add much appreciation must go to Terry Lewis for putting up with all their phone calls and somehow keeping a level head in band business meetings. You rock brother!

To find more info on D-Railed go to www.facebook. com/drailedinstlouis or www.myspace.com/drailedinstlouis. And to catch this hard working alternative rock band in their rise from the ashes live, come out to one of their upcoming shows!

myspace.com/stlouissinner

an album review by Bill Oberg We play this game, Kevin and me. He pretends not to be homeless. I pretend to believe him. It's not as hard as you'd think. He keeps himself clean shaven, doesn't pan-handle (at least not that I've seen), and lives in a decidedly non-trendy homeless area, South City. I assume he makes trips by bus and foot to get to the homeless resources downtown, but that's all I'm doing is assuming. Kevin is a friend, but he's also a symbol. Of independence at any cost. Of determination. Dude has every right to act defeated, to cave in to his demons, whatever. Yet, the most I've ever heard him complain was "You know man, sometimes life's a funny mother fucker."

Bob Reuter's Alley Ghost doesn't care about your cleverness or your trends. These are songs with the cuteness bludgeoned out of them til what you're left with is the god's honest truth –– well, Bob's truth anyway, which may or may not be the same as god's. I like to think it is though. I like my god rocking out in a heavenly club reminiscent of late 70's CBGB's. Hell Town's as good an opener as any. Here it is, take it or leave it. You get a taste for the sound and instrumentation right away. Acoustic guitar, stand-up bass, drums and drum stick clatterings, and someone plucking the hell out of the banjo. Bob's voice oozing not soul so much as blood and guts. A layer of rock and roll grime covering the mess of it.

Looking at homeless people it's hard to picture them as anything other than failures. But, Kevin almost made it, twice. As a second baseman with pop drafted by the Orioles in the twenty-ninth round.

And later, as the owner of his own baseball card shop. The pop didn't translate into mid-level minor league ball. The baseball card market dried up after the '94 players strike. The alcohol started tasting extra good and ta-da! here came the streets. Or as Kevin tells it, when he moved from Columbia to South City St. Louis. It makes you wonder how many family members he must have pissed off in the process. How many bridges do you have to burn before you become homeless? I'm guessing a guy as good as Kevin (when sober) has quite a few.

Good luck figuring influences on this album. Not to say they aren't there. They are, in spades –– Bob knows better than to try and re-invent the wheel. The thing is the influences are so many and so tightly woven that singling one out doesn't mean much. You single the middle-eastern looking dude out of the baggage line and whaddya got? Racial profiling. Alright, maybe that's not exactly what I'm trying to say, but either way, don't pull that shit on Bob. Dude's heard more music than you and I combined.

He breathes in Hank Williams and exhales Hank Williams, Jr. Eats Pearl Jam and craps out Nickelback.

Which coincidentally, is the only known way to eliminate Nickelback from one's system.

I don't know where Kevin's at with his drinking problem. He says he's good but then again he might not have the most objective viewpoint on the subject... I can't talk to him about his job prospects either without blowing our cover, and the last thing I want to do is shame him. Lately though, for whatever reason, I've had a real good feeling about him. Like maybe next time I walk down Cherokee Street I won't see him around. And that maybe, just maybe if I ever had reason to drive over to Columbia (we're talking theoretical here) I might see him there.

"Every time I start to fly, these old boots hold me down. I don't think I'm gonna try anymore."

Fly is the standout track on the album. You could sneak it between Beggar's Banquet cuts and no one at the party would notice. Country, bluesy, gut-punch-to-your-soul-ish. Really great lyrics, but I call bullshit. Way too much life in that voice to talk about not trying anymore. We've all been there.

And it sucks. And it sucks some more. But, you hang around long enough and at some point it does get better –– I'm looking at you, Kevin. Even a rock and roll moron knows that.

15

written by Chuck Foster

U

nfortunately, last month we didn’t hear the screams and moans of Contamination creeping our way in time for an interview with one of the many stars who attended St. Louis’ first horror-con. We did, however, make it out to cover a few oddities and some live music – which were as tasty as fresh brains and eyeballs.

By the time we walked through the door, The Revenants (www.myspace. com/revenants) from Louisville, KenThe Revenants tucky were already tearing the crowd from limb to limb. This Goth/ Black Metal band kills – well, not literally, but you get it. They were a solid opener for Ari Lehman & The First Jason, who just happened to be the original Jason in Friday the 13th, or the kid who leaped from the water. And he’s back, but this time he’s wielding an electric keyboard and kickingThe out Revenants deadly tunes!

The R

evena

Ari L

ehma

n&F

nts

irst J

ason

f th

Night o

Harkonin

16

ow

pet Sh

ad Pup

g De e Livin

Local metal band Harkonin hit the stage last. This band had some big and bloody boots to fill after First Jason, and The Revenants, but they did not disappoint. Nor did the packed crowd in attendance. It was as if some were possessed, thrashing back and forth, while the sounds of Harkonin fueled the fire of madness. Good times. So good, we returned the next day for the Night of the Living Dead puppet show.

Let me tell you, this is the best live adaptation of this film that I have ever seen! Actually, it’s the only one. And that should say something by itself. This is hands down, the most brilliant spoof I have ever seen! Scary Movie doesn’t have anything on this satire from Angry Young Men (www.angryyoungmenltd.com) out of Milwaukee, WI. I highly recommend Harkonin checking out their site for a peek – well, that is if your into the whole “eat your brains” thing.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

INSIDE

SUBVERSIVE ACTIVITIES

Interview by Christina Martyn - Edited and approved by Gabriel C. Zolman The diehards can deal with chaos, but not so much the eye-sticks. Ami and Molly hate it when I say this, but promise tits and fire, and you've got a show.

You have to become the circus--it's not enough to merely run away with it.

Also, I learned from the raver kids that it doesn't always matter if a venue is "unproven" or not--those kids are used to combing message boards for abandoned warehouse parties in the Dead Hooker District, where the musky urban air reeks of dollar gin and ruined lives. If you do something interesting enough, people will find you. We did, and they found us. Though we could probably use more dead hookers. We are presently the second Friday of every month at the Way Out Club, where we will happily stay until we all get the brainworms.

"Don't mention the cigar in your article," DJ Skuzzy huffed, while chomping gently on a natural-leaf stogie like a grizzled, long-haired desperado, "I promised Ami that I would quit."

"Of course," I said, and immediately made a note.

And who could blame me? For a man who was dropped off by one woman, picked up by another, and dodging texts from several inbetween, the sheer reverence and genuine admiration he holds for his friend and frequent performer, Ami Amore', was utterly fascinating, and even touching. But then, that sense of awe seemed to carry over for many of his performers and DJ's, whom he clearly regarded as his friends, as opposed to mere contract employees. Described by someone on Facebook as a cross between Hunter S. Thompson and Beetlejuice, he is a man of many contradictions, and many of them charmingly bizarre. Gabriel C. Zolman (aka "DJ Skuzzy"), with his trademark skeleton gloves and rapidfire wit, is a former youth minister and award-winning author/poet who turned to rock journalism and DJing, and later began promoting his own event, the creative zeitgeist that is SUBVERSION. Interviewing him was a colorful experience, to say the least. Here is our verbatum on-tape interview:

You seem quite the odd success story; you were certainly the underdog for a while, though, yes?

Things were promising the first couple of months, but there have been some bleak times. Every conceivable thing that could go wrong with a night has happened to us. Once, we got blocked off by Obama's motorcade.

We've been rained out, snowed out, locusts, God's wrath, broken stripper poles, flakey dancers, arrogant DJ's, feisty hobos, scene politics, personal drama and tragicomic trainwrecks, etc.

We've seen it all, and conquered.

What do you seek to accomplish with subversion and your related events?

Epilepsy. Years of therapy. Impetus for the Good Lord to finally smite me. You know, the usual. I just want to either do something that people don't get to see often, or at least do it in a way that hasn't been done to death. I'd like to have more meaningful subtext in our performances, but we don't always have the time or budget. Any burlesque dancer can come out and shake her booty to traditional burlesque music. It takes something special

I've noticed a lot of your performers have really risen in popularity since you began. Do you feel you've had a hand in that?

I won't take credit for someone else's talent.

Yes, I'm sure a lot of girls have gotten a bump from being on a gazillion of my flyers, but if they weren't utterly amazing, they wouldn't have been on those flyers to begin with.

Ha ha, hey now, you started it. Ok, well, describe subversion to me.

We drag perverts through peepholes. Sensory overload.

We are a post-industrial variety show, heavy on the variety. Fire, Burlesque, Circus Freakery, you name it, we rape it in the face, metaphorically speaking. We cater to the Goth/Industrial crowd, but we play all sorts of stuff.

If you're into something obscure, and you have five dollars, we are the best bang for your buck.

Let's talk about your advertising. I have to say, no one, and i mean no one, advertises quite like you guys do. Your flyers and advertising rants are distinctive, to say the least.

I'm a writer by trade. I actually was heavily influenced by the old Relapse Records ads of the early 90's. Lots of hyperbole and dope-addled banter. I loved it. It read like I talk. Most of the artwork on our flyers is from the same art team, that did the old Wizard Video and Lightning Video covers from the 80's exploitation film hey-day.

I've been collecting obscure horror/exploitation films since I was a kid, and a lot of that big-box artwork is public domain now, so it seemed only natural to run with it. I don't just use anything--I do actually check permissions and so forth most of the time, and try to use work by the same artists. I'm not sure what a leering maniac chasing a scantily clad maiden through a swamp with an axe has to do with goth nights or variety shows, but it's certainly a show you want to see, right?

How did subversion get it's start?

I was doing a metal night with Doktor Smart called "Contagion." We got cancelled at Upstairs Lounge because we didn't go "oontz oontz" enough, and Way Out picked us up. Not a lot of "oontz" at Way Out. We did really well there our first couple of months, so they offered me the chance to do a Goth/Industrial event, since it was more what I was known for, scene-wise. I had two weeks to invent, develop, and promote the event. It was on a Tuesday, at what was pretty much an unproven venue for that scene. And we did fabulously. It was a little chaotic, but it beat a stick in the eye, so people came out.

How does organizing goth/industrial shows differ from the metal shows you started out with?

Well, first of all, I still do metal shows on occasion. In fact, most of us involved in this scene--Carrie [Conspiracy], Joel [Rapture], Teya [Cirque Du Erotica], etc.--still do things involving metal. I have a show coming up in St. Charles, in fact, called "Hard As Iron," May 20th at Baha Rock Club. It should be epic. But even pooping is epic if you have Slayer going in the background, no? I digress.

To give you the honest nobody-wants-to-hear-this truth, the difference between the Metal scene and the Goth/ Industrial scene is this: metal kids will trudge 13 miles

Before we started, you mentioned i should check out "urban cabaret." Is that a related night?

Oh no, not at all – that is all Ami, and I'm really proud of her. She really has something special there, not just because of the quality of her shows, but because of the dynamic she has with her performers. The woman is made of sex and triumph. She can do no wrong. But feel free to start talking about me at any moment.

through six inches of snow and freezing rain, with a broken leg and syphilis, to catch their favorite band--even if they come through town every single year. Alternately, Goth/Industrial kids are fussy bitches. Their favorite band could reunite after 20 years for a one-time-only performance, to do a free show at a venue within stumbling distance, with the promise of free candy and blowjobs for the first 50 people at the door...but no one will show, because they have drama with the door person, or they don't want to see their ex-girlfriend/boyfriend/ transexual loveslave, or because they have a hangnail, or ran out of Zanax, or that magic come-and-go migraine that every goth chick swears she suffers from when she wants attention or doesn't feel like doing something, or...whatever. Seriously. It might be "my scene," but I learned early on that getting them out of their houses for even the greatest show on earth can be a thankless fucking task.

gotten away with?

For our 9-11 show, we had an awesomely offensive-butmeaningful routine worked out, that was truly subversive. It would have meant we finally really lived up to our name. Two girls wearing nothing but cardboard boxes crudely decorated to look like the twin towers were to walk on stage, while someone dressed like an airplane rammed them. The boxes would fall off, revealing the girls to be naked and body-painted in flames. Then, a midget dressed like George W. Bush would take an inflatable missile, and beat a random audience member who had nothing to do with the attack. It would have been utter magick. But it was sadly not to be.

Is there anyone you'd really like to work with in the future?

I'd really like to work with Deserae Hunyar again; I also would like to import Miss Ammo from Chicago, and Isobella De Los Muertos from Indiana. They are all simply incredible, and I can't wait to vajazzle them all for the good of mankind and the best five bucks you ever spent.

What all is down the pipeline for you? Where do you see this going?

World domination. And by "world," I totally mean your vagina.

AHEM. OK, seriously? I plan to have something of decent size and scope just about every week during the summer. I want people to know that there is always something happening in this city on any given night, whether it's my event, or someone else's. We're all in this together. I want to branch out into surrounding towns more. I want more excuses to hire my favorite performers.

What advice would you give young promoters? What are the biggest mistakes you see people making?

Don't do it unless you want to die broken and alone in a dirty alley reeking of shame.

But if you must...hire good people, who contribute more than body parts. Remember that you always get what you pay for, performer-wise. Make real friends--don't just make strategic contacts. It's ok to shamelessly promote and lust for dollars; but remember these people have parents.

Never trust anyone who has no real friends, or treats casual acquaintances they see every blue moon like they're old war buddies.

And don't send out group e-mails on Facebook or Myspace every goddamn week.

I don't care how awesome your show is; don't make me regret that I gave my RSVP. It's ok to send out reminders, but never more than one. And be aware that if you pass out flyers more than two weeks prior to your event, not a single fucking person is going to keep it and remember. Just

to have them dancing to Sisters Of Mercy and Godflesh.

I love Sugar's muppet routine, by the way. We're a variety show. I want variety. Duh. It's been a year now; are there any defining moments you feel particularly proud of?

Anything Ami does is amazing. Molly was utterly the star at Dead Of Winter, doing a fire set to Ministry. Scarlett blew them all away at Bridgeburner. Deserae Hunyar's vampire schoolteacher routine to The Shroud was epic.

Amber Berlin grinding to Jack Off Jill, or trying to dance to GGJim's noise set--that one turned out to be almost Dadaist. Alien Hooker night and Lesbian Nun night will both live in infamy, I think. But the best is yet to come.

Is there anything you've wanted to do, but haven't

sayin'...

Ok...Last question: which of your troupe would you most like to boink?

I told you...I don't have a troupe. (winks) Nice dodge.

It's actually a Buick. (smirks and chomps cigar, while making "rim shot" noise) Any final words?

"Vajazzle" and "cocklust" are both good words. I also like saying "cuntmuffin" and "honeysnatch." But then, that's probably why I'm single. And give us your five dollars.

This Colt 45 Double-Malt doesn't buy itself.

Interview by Chuck Foster

Exorcism Model: Travis Drebenstedt

D

everie grew up in southeast Iowa, a territory in the united states mostly known for tractor pulls and prize winning hogs. Contradictive to her conservative environment, her roots sprouted a highly imaginative and creative person. She says that the general expectations of a gal from southeast Iowa is to find a good job with benefits, go to church at least on Sunday and Wednesday, and for God’s sake, to never be different or buck the system! Instead of follwing suit, she rejected it all and lived on the fringe as much as possible in her leatherstudded clothes and spiked two-tone hair with half of her head shaved. She admits to being more of a “side show… but a side show with a camera.”

During her days and nights of rebellion, Deverie was an artist of all mediums. She painted, drew, sketched, etc. until she beagn to garden. It was then that she discovered the camera as another outlet of her creative nature. She says that she would just plant things wherever she thought they looked best. And the only way she could keep track of each seedling was to take pictures. That simple detail eventually turned into a love of macro photography. Unbeknownest to Deverie, her time spent shoveling manure and planting vegetables would produce far more than tomotoes and cucumbers. The fertile ground of southeast Iowa that she dedicated so much time to blossomed an amazing photographer from the seed of a rebellious farm girl, something no one expected.

As Deverie’s interest in photography began to take root, she felt that something

was still missing. She decided to invest in a cheap portrait lighting kit and dabbled in portrait work. Unfortuantely, she lacked the adequate space needed and the knowledge necessary to produce the quality work she demanded from herself. Then in 2006 she and her husband moved to Palmyra, IL and converted their garage into a studio for her to fully commit to portrait work. Looking back she says, “Well, you know, I couldn’t just do regular portrait work! Yawn… I decided I wanted to try my hand at chroma key photography.” It was this attitude that led her to purchase a massive green screen, more lights, remotes, a tablet, Photoshop and much more, then dive head first into the murky waters of chroma key. Laughingly, she asks, “Can you say money pit? I thought you could.” And she hasn’t looked back since.

Instead of mincing her words with further quotes and interjecting my own thoughts, I felt it would be best to let Deverie plant her own seeds of thought from here out. She’s certainly a great farmer of unique sorts.

Lets talk about formal education. Do you think the idea of a “formal” education is necessary to pursue your unique style of art, and what have you learned or applied to your art that formal education did not teach you?

I’ve no formal education in photography and only one online class in Photoshop and Illustrator. I’m self taught. I would not recommend that road to anyone. It’s a long, hard road. If a person has their sights set on working for someone else, that employer will likely want to see a degree and you may not even qualify for the position without it. Having a degree will open doors that otherwise may remain closed. That being said, getting a BA these days is like having a high school diploma “back in my day.” If one is pursuing a formal education, go for the MA or PhD. But, even with those, it’s a gamble. I know people with degrees that, given the current economy, are taking part time jobs at lesser Twisting Yarns wages and learning how Model: Deverie Rudd to say, “would you like to supersize that?” without

18

Digital Anarchy Model: Deverie Rudd throwing up in their mouths just a little bit.

As I mentioned, you have a very unique approach to combining photography and graphics. What’s the typical process of transforming a typical portfolio shot, like Twisting Yarns, into a work of art.

First I go get some beer. Woops. Did I just say that? I generally have an idea in mind of what I want to create.

I draw it out, make a list of different poses, props, etc. that I want to use. My main focus is getting the shot of the subject. The rest falls into place later in that after I choose the shot I want to work with, I kind of get a visualization of what I want for the background, the style, color, etc. I then locate that within my files or go get it, and create it, if I don’t have it. I then determine if filters or effects, vector graphics etc. are needed on any of the layers to produce what I have in mind. Really, I shoot from the hip and follow my creative muse during the creation process.

Frequently, the basic idea I had in mind when I began becomes something I never expected by the time I’m done.

Speaking of transformations, tell me a bit about the front cover shot. How did that image come into existence?

I was doing a self shoot one night (as I frequently have to out here in the sticks-thank you Cindy Sherman!) and during my poses, I decided the garb I had on could be very puppet-like for an end product. I commenced to twist my feet/ankles/arms/hands into contorted and unnatural positions while the camera kept shooting. (I have a possessed remote-once it gets started, it will keep going even without me pressing the button which frees me up to just continue posing-it’s all creepy good).

After reviewing the shots, I chose the one I wanted. But, what to dangle myself by?? I had some chain in the studio so hung it from hooks on the ceiling and photographed it.

During its creation, I was grieving the loss of a beloved family member. Whilst in the guilt/blame stage of grief, I realized there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome. The universe had its plan, I was

The Magician Model: Travis Drebenstedt merely a puppet in Destiny’s grand production with someone else working the strings, yet they didn’t seem to be strings. Strings can be broken, chains are not so forgiving. Thus was born Cirque Bleu.

What advice, or words of wisdom, do you have for other artists following in your footsteps?

Um, don’t! Create your own path. Don’t listen to the naysayers, dare to be different. Listen to your inner voice, your heart and proceed… with a good business plan.

Where can readers find more of your work, and how can they contact you?

My portrait/business site is www.deveriefx. com. My macro work is located at www. deverie.com. Head to the gallery there. The site is in dire need of updating but the gallery is chock-full. I can be contacted through either site via email, phone or carrier pigeon.

I’m a gun for hire so look me up!

Any last words, thanks, or shouts?

Well, a big shout out to you obviously!! And to Danielle Correll for getting me in touch with The Sinner. I’d also like to thank my DH, David Camp (deceptionmanagement.com) for believing in me, my family, my besties (even if they touch my stuff) and all the little furry people that make life interesting. I accept this award on behalf of all my fans….what? There’s no award? I thought there was an award. Well crap. I shaved my legs and brushed my hair… and now you tell me there’s no award??

I suppose there’s no gift bag either? I bet Snooki woulda got a gift bag…I’m just sayin’.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

It’s a Long Way from Penny Apples

by Bill Cullen - Mercier Press, Dublin, 2001 review by Emily Eufinger How I came across this book begins at a wonderful Irish pub and restaurant in Clayton: Molly Darcys in the historic Seven Gables Inn, where “There are no strangers … Just friends who have yet to meet.”

The original pub and restaurant was opened in Killarny, County Kerry, Ireland, by Molly Darcy’s grandson, Bill Cullen. In addition to the pub fare, the menu provides a brief biography of Molly, to which is appended, “Bill has documented Molly's life in his best selling book, It’s a Long Way from Penny Apples.”

Though I would describe the book as Cullen’s autobiography rather than a chronicle on his grandmother, it certainly emphasizes the profound effect that her life and teachings had on her grandson—and many others for that matter. She lived until February 1991, just two months shy of her 100th birthday. More than 100 direct descendants—five generations of Darcys—attended her funeral.

The book is so titled because Molly, her daughter Mary, and most of Mary’s children—including her eldest boy Bill Cullen—all sold various foods and goods on the streets of inner-city Dublin in the 1940s and 1950s, including fruit. I had no idea when I picked up this book that it was written by a man who is now one of Ireland’s most renowned figures and successful entrepreneurs.

He certainly has progressed far from his days of penny produce.

Because of its popularity and dual adaptations of both literature and film, the grief-filled tale of Angela’s Ashes is for many a definitive interpretation of growing up poor in Ireland. The author acknowledges this, and prefaces his book thus: “I had a childhood of similar poverty and deprivation, but my memories of it are happy.”

Such memories include a Christmas when Cullen’s father unveiled a secret talent by tap dancing for the family in the damp one-room tenement where the parents lived with seven children; or when designer Louis Copeland recognized how hard the Cullen family toiled in

the streets and made a First Communion suit for young Bill free of charge.

For a morbid moment, the book touches on the sins of the Catholic Church. The Cullen family was heavily religious; Bill not only attended Catholic school, but served as an altar boy as well. After a strange incident involving one of his friends and a visiting priest, Bill laid down the rule that none of the altar boys were to be left alone in the sacristy. Though he didn’t entirely understand at the time, that simple action prevented further transgressions, sparing the innocence of many children and the integrity of an institution—at least in their little corner of the world.

Little Bill Cullen was an entrepreneur from an early age and soon took on more challenges in addition to helping his mother sell fruit at “The Lane.” He worked as a messenger boy; sold newspapers and movie tickets; tickets and concessions for soccer matches, along with boxes to stand on for those along the fence outside the stadium; in the summer he picked raspberries at a local farm; he found a way to turn plain dolls into Judy Garland and Marilyn Monroe and sell them for profit; he created the market for wax flowers at a time predating refrigerated trucks when no real flowers grew near the city … all while maintaining top grades in school and boosting his soccer team to victory.

The truly touching aspect of this book is that it contains photos from the author’s private collection, from as far back as 1913, to as recent as 1986. It simply astounds me that the events described in this book actually happened; these were and are real people, some of whom are still alive today.

I never wanted this book to end; I want to know what the characters are doing now, to feel like they are still a part of my life. And so I return to Molly Darcys restaurant, for a frothy Guinness and the chance to meet a friend …

West End Poetry

by Chuck Foster We had lived in the Central West End for some time, long enough to loose hope of ever finding a blue-collar pub with a decent pour at a decent price, before we finally stumbled through the doors of Club 34. Discreetly placed along the Euclid strip, it’s an establishment easy to overlook, except for at night when the neon sign fills the darkness of the sidewalk’s nooks and crannies. Inside the doors you won’t find the typical yuppie hell-hole amenities that plague the west side – no bars made of ice or valet parking. At Club 34 you’re likely to find Sean behind the bar, pouring stiff drinks at limp prices. On any given evening you might also find simple entertainment, like someone sitting behind the club piano playing tunes of years long past, or even the lovely voice of a young Las singing her heart out to the rhythm of an acoustic guitar.

But here recently, Club 34 has added a new novelty to its community status, a late afternoon poetry reading.

This is probably the only place in the Central West End that can pull this rabbit from its hat, without having patrons turn

sour face. Club 34 is that kind of watering hole, supported thick and thin by its regulars, regardless of what the new flavor of the month may be in the bar scene. The poetry reading put together by Jon Thrower and Tom Simmons is in the process of becoming a monthly gig at 34. When asked, “Why Club 34?”, Jon Thrower said the two are both regulars and local writers, and that the atmosphere of the bar at that time of day is really open to that kind of thing. Jon said that him and Tom both believe the reading scene in the city needs more activity, especially in the Central West End. Jon said they are planning another reading in May, but the date has yet to be determined. Jon added that their next reading is not necessarily open to the public, though the environment is as is he. For further info on the reading please contact Jon Thrower at: jonthrower@hotmail.com. Or you can just stop in for a stiff bourbon and water with Sean. If he doesn’t have the info at hand, he’s sure to have a tale or two to share.

By Matthew Gorman

THE PIKE PLACE MARKET P

icture in your mind, the Seattle of 1900. The Klondike Gold Rush is three years gone and past, and Seattle is on her way to becoming the Queen City of the Pacific Northwest, flush with money from the Alaska goldfields. Ferries on the sound ply the waters and loud blasts emanate from their steam whistles as they approach Coleman Dock. Horses and carriages clatter on the cobblestones; the new streetcars clang and groan as they make their way uptown. Over on the Southwest corner of Pike and Commercial (now First St.), is a solitary three story brick building named after its owner Mr.Bartell. It is a rather plain and simple building with not much detail, save a pressed metal cornice.

At Hirsh’s Pharmacy on the ground floor, the shelves are lined with cough medicine, and boxes such as Coddington’s Wonder Reducing pills and Dr.Bombay’s Miracle Headache medicine. Upstairs, is the meeting hall for the Knights of Pythias, one of the numerous lodge and fraternal organizations around town. Go around to the back and down the alley and you’ll find one of the many livery stables of Seattle with their carriages for hire and shoes for your horse. The stalls are crowded this afternoon with horses ready for carriage rides to the park, and to the Grand Opera later this evening. It is here that one afternoon a tragic accident took place a few days ago. While she was perhaps conducting business with the smithy or petting a horse, a lady was kicked in the face by one of the horses, snapping her neck. Perhaps one read about it in the papers the next day.

In between 1896 and 1907, there were several attempts to organize an informal farmers’ market along Western Avenue but it is not until 1896 that the complaints of not only some 3000 farmers in the Rainier Valley but the general public reach the steps of City Hall and one new member of the city council, Thomas Revelle. With the words of Teddy Roosevelt, our new vice president, ringing in his ears, Revelle and others start a formal campaign to have a permanent structure built for the citizens and farmers to meet and shop. Backed by loud and persuasive editorials by Mr. Blethen’s Seattle Times and the Post Intelligencer, the other members of the city council are finally persuaded and on August 5th a permanent market is authorized to operate on Western Ave and Pike St, Monday through Saturday.

It is now the fall of 1907 and Frank Goodwin is now ready to open an arcade designed by his brother.

It’s a simple structure consisting of posts and a roof and stalls for flower and vegetable vendors. A year later Frank has also built the Outlook Hotel and the Triangle market buildings. By 1911, the market has been so popular, and produce and flowers are in such demand by the public, the city extends the market northward to the intersection with Virginia St. In 1910, across the street the Sanitary Market building is constructed. It is given this name because horses are not allowed in the building. In 1912, Harlan Thomas and Clyde Grainger open their Corner Market building across from the main arcade. While this has made Mr. Goodwin very proud, as well as quite rich, he has plans in the works for a new and unusual way to shop. In 1917, Frank has designed and built the Fairley building. A series of wooden mazes with separate businesses is constructed under the stalls of the market, three stories above Western Avenue. It is the first totally enclosed shopping area in the city and is destined to become a public institution. Frank has also

20

just purchased the Bartell building and has reopened it as the Economy Market, with more shops. It is now possible to catch a streetcar or take a carriage ride and shop without getting wet.

It is here in this labyrinth of shops that many of the legends of Pike Place hauntings begin. In the old barbershop on the second level was a woman barber who plied her trade shearing and shaving the men who visited. A large woman with a profitable trade.

Madame also had a penchant for money, specifically greenbacks. After the hot towel was applied, She would lull the men to sleep and then steal from their wallets, thus getting paid twice for her efforts. One day, however, she chose the wrong man. While he was being shaved she reached in his pocket. It was then he woke up to the realization that she was taking more than his nickel. In a flash the lady lay dead on the floor, her jugular severed by a straight razor. The man fled and was never caught. To this day, customers and tourists alike have heard her heavy tread on the floorboards outside her shop.

Before the white man came to the shores of Elliot Bay, the area abounded with trees, wildlife and Native Americans. On the second floor is a ramp made of wood leading to the shops and merchants. It is here, that not only business owners but also visitors have seen the ghost of the Indian Woman. One cold morning before the arrival of the tourists, a merchant was on his way downstairs to get ready to open. He stood at the top of the ramp and stopped. There below him was an old Indian woman dressed in a gingham dress with a basket.

He was quite puzzled, as the woman was not a person he had seen before. She stood at the bottom of the ramp for a few seconds, quite plain as day.

In fact, the man wondered if she truly was of flesh and blood. It wasn’t until he noticed that she was floating a few inches above the floor that this was not a human person. In a split second, she looked at him and then proceeded to walk directly into the wall in front of her. Some say she is the ghost of Princess Angeline, daughter of Chief Seattle himself who lived in a shack on Western Ave until her death in 1896 at the age of eighty. Others say she is from a tribe of Indians from up the coast, from a tribe who has blue eyes instead of brown. Perhaps we may never know who she is, but if you should see her, don’t blink or she’ll be gone too soon.

Frank Goodwin constructed the Arcade building in 1907, and it was here until his death that he had on office on the second floor with a large picture window looking out on his beloved market. Many reported sightings of Mr. Goodwin have come down over the years. He is frequently seen in what is now a dentist’s office, on the right hand side of the building staring out of the window. Perhaps he comes back to check on how business is doing.

Through out the 1920 and 30s, the market continued to be a central meeting place for farmers and downtown shoppers. In 1924, at the height of the roaring prosperity in Seattle, a dentist turned mayor, Edwin Brown, called the market a narrow cow path and a city eyesore. His proposal to tear it down and replace it with an urban monstrosity complete with radio station and civic auditorium enraged locals and merchants alike, and in 1926 Edwin Brown was booted out of office, to be replaced by Seattle’s only woman mayor, Bertha Landes.

By this time, ownership of the market had been handed over from Frank Goodwin to his nephew Arthur, while Frank held on the real property. In 1929, a Seattle judge in a suit brought by vendors ruled that all the stalls were illegal on public sidewalks. The case was taken all the way to the Supreme Court in Olympia, but never resolved, for on Oct 24th the Stock Market in New York collapsed and brought on the Great Depression.

In 1930, construction began on the giant Market sign and clock, and the area underneath became an unofficial speakers’ corner where anyone from a politician to the craziest person on the block could speak to the multitudes of shoppers. But all was not well on the financial end. The Market bled red ink in buckets and slowly control was taken from the Goodwin family and placed in the hands of an Italian merchant in the market, Giuseppe Desimone. By the time Japan bombed Peal Harbor in 1941, Desimone was lord of the market.

So intent on keeping the business in the family, Desimone also signed his last will and testament and prevented any of his heirs from ever selling one single piece of the market, lest they be cut out of the will and the family fortune.

Giuseppe Desimone died in 1946 and with it his virtual stranglehold over the market passed to his son Richard.

But with the development of suburbs such as Bellevue, and increased competition from chain markets, the popularity of Pike Market started to wane and once again found itself being referred to as an eyesore and a firetrap by local leaders. Plans were made by Harlan Edwards to replace the entire structure with an enormous parking garage. Thankfully it never got off the drawing board, but in 1953, Pike Market was finally cut off from its waterfront access with the completion of the Alaskan Way viaduct. By 1956, it was apparent to even people for saving the market

that something had to be done.

It was 1957 when a disastrous fire swept through the Municipal Market building and taking with it a popular dance ballroom. Gutted and left a shell, the building sat empty and neglected until renovations in the 1970s.

The 1960s saw the toughest fight to save the Market to date. Friends of the Market organized in 1964 and were lead by artist Peter Steinbruck,who set out to save the market through the sale of books, buttons and bags. This only staved off the bulldozers for a short time and with the destruction of the U.S armory on Western Avenue in 1968; it seemed only a matter of time before the Market would meet the same fate under the call of urban redevelopment. In 1971, the Department of Planning and Urban Renewal gave final approval of a plan to raze the market and the end seemed in site for the venerable institution. The Friends of the Market were down but not out and in a whirlwind three-week campaign collected 25,000 voter signatures and created a 7-acre historical site. The measure was put before the voters in the November 2nd election and passed by a margin of 76,369 to 53,264. The Market was now saved, but not out of the woods yet. Millions of public and private funds would still have to be spent to preserve and protect the market. But thanks to such efforts, today the market still is the number one attraction in Seattle, and promises to be one for many years to come.

Perhaps one of the most haunted locations in Seattle, the Market remains a favorite of ghost hunters from all over. In September of 2003, members of the Amateur Ghost Hunters Of Seattle/Tacoma paid a visit to the Market Theater. The Market Theater was created during reconstruction of the Municipal building in 1978 and occupies the space of a former livery stable.

Evidence of this is seen in the segment ally arched doorways and remnants of cast iron hinges embedded in the brick walls. Now home to Unexpected Productions, an Improv Comedy troupe, the theater sees a lot of activity, some of it not seen to the naked eye. On a walk through and subsequent investigation, no less than five entities were felt to still be in the theater.

One of the most active ghosts is a man in 1920’s dress named Arthur. Arthur was a performer in his mortal life and his love of applause never died. He was found to center on an area of stage left and appears often. On the night of the investigation footsteps were heard crossing the floorboards when no one was on stage. Could this be Arthur looking for attention?

Another entity is the ghost of a woman in a long white dress reminiscent of the late 1900s. One of the group’s sensitives picked up on her energy in the back of the theater in what performers call the ghost corner.

Maternal and comforting, it is believed that she died of a neck injury after a horse kicked her in the face on a visit to the livery stable.

Energies were also felt in the restrooms and the projection booth as well as the manager’s office in the far back of the building. Members were unfortunately unable to establish contact and the sprits remain a mystery.

Today, the Pike Place Market stands as a monument to urban planning and the days of yesteryear. Millions of visitors visit every year. Few know of the haunted history behind its merchant stalls. But with a little history behind you, perhaps you may have a visit from the other side.

myspace.com/stlouissinner

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

L

et me start by Saying that the purpose of this monthly column is to offer information and a personal view on matters involving body piercing and modification and is in no way meant to put myself above any other artist in the industry. Secondly, if you have a horror story and choose to share it with us, DO NOT give the name of the artist involved as I will just omit it anyway. There are many artists in the St. Louis and surrounding areas that deserve nothing but the utmost respect from myself and supporters of our shared profession. If you have a question about piercing/modification, a story, or just a desire to better understand the culture and would like that answered, please send them to: Stu@StuModifies.com.

Dear Stu, I have had my eyebrow pierced for about 6 or 7 years now and it has been issue free. It healed perfectly and has been changed out multiple times since with different metals and has had no problems.

Now all of a sudden I have a small keloid by one of the beads and it is very red and also leaking a bit.

What should I do? Is it possible that after all this time my eyebrow has just decided that it hates the piercing? Should it come out? I don’t want the Keloid to grow…PLEASE HELP! –– Sam, St. Louis, MO Sam, Don’t worry. Most likely what you are experiencing is an abscess and not a keloid. Abscesses and Hypotrophic scars are often mistaken for keloids. I would suggest paying a visit to the professional who completed the procedure and getting his/her advise.

In my opinion, it is more likely that circumstances in your life have created the issue rather than your skin simply deciding “hey, I hate this piercing now.” Without seeing it in person here is my guess…

A change in cleanser for your face, body or hair has created irritation and the skin has restarted the process of trying to remove the debris (jewelry) from your body.

Another could be that in your sleep or even during the day you may have bumped or snagged the piercing causing it to become irritated again.

Either one of these things could easily be responsible for the formation of an abscess or even small hypotrophic scarring.

Piercings are never fully healed…ever… I don’t care what anyone says.

The skin is responsible for protecting inner structures and it does this by maintaining a constant and consistent covering. Anytime that covering is breached or even damaged on the surface the body sends the system into defense mode and works hard to remove any pollutants or debris in or on the tissue.

In piercing or other mod work we have found ways to compromise with the tissue and find a happy median. In other words, we take special care of the area affected and in return the skin backs down, so to speak, as it slowly sees the new addition as less of a threat. Don’t be fooled, though. The piercing is still considered debris in the body and even after years of healing it will still find ways to remove it, especially if irritation is present. The abscess most likely formed because face wash, shampoo, or body wash got inside, dried out the dead dying cells and caused a block that kept fluids, which exit the body naturally to help prevent infection, from escaping. The fluid then searches for another route to escape, forms a pocket and begins to attempt exiting the pores. Sort of like a pimple.

My suggestion would be to consult your original professional or just another one that you trust.

Make sure that you do this face to face and be honest about how you have been treating the piercing.

In the meantime using saline soaks for about 3-5 minutes twice daily will help to break up the abscess and prevent infection.

Good luck Sam, and take care –– Stu 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

21

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS OF...

FOXY LADY F

oxy lady is a mother of four from East St. Louis who yearns of making a career in the demanding field of modeling. She admits that this has never been a lifelong dream of hers, and says to think otherwise simply isn't true.

Having been an exotic dancer prior to motherhood, she began this quest about two years ago as she got a bit more comfortable with her body again, which now stands a firm 34-33-37.

Foxy’s passionate about modeling, to see just how far it can take her as a woman who is passionate sexually and in mind. Her turnons are someone who is not just about them self and a guy who loves to show his lady nothing else matters but her. Her turn-offs are people who think less of themselves. To sum foxy up in one thought, she’s “a very sexy, fun, outgoing woman who’s not afraid to hold anything back.

And now, foxy indulges you with her guilt of the seven deadly sins...

GREED

Now this thing called greed is my desire to have so much, but when you think about it you can have all the money and in the dark you’re still alone...

WRATH

My wrath is the hatred I feel against people who harm kids, being I’m a mom myself. Someone close to me hurt someone that means the world to me and at first I wanted revenge but I didn’t do anything and the person now is... what can I say, karma is something....

ENVY

Everyone has a little envy in them. I sometimes envy the people who are at the places in their life where I wanna be...

SLOTH

Sloth is when I have to take care of things. I mean, sometimes I seem to put the important things off and sometimes focus on the less important ...

GLUTTONY

Gluttony for me is the desire to consume more than needed, meaning I do that a lot when I’m eating, or sometimes just taking on more stuff in my life that I can handle...

PRIDE

I know I have a lot of pride about myself, but not enough to lose someone I love over it, you know. Arrogance will come back to bite u in the ass...

LUST

Oooo-wow! Now this thing we call lust. I sometime’s feel I can do whatever I want even though it’s something that I should not do, like when I’m putting on certain clothes, the simplest thing...To even having that desire to fantasize about another woman I should not be but I still find my self doing it...

Hey that’s just a part of my life and this world that makes people do these sins.

If you would like to contact Foxy Lady to find more about her and her sinful life, please log on to MYSPACE.COM/JADEFOXX82.

22

myspace.com/stlouissinner

Outlaws in G-Strings:

Stories of and from a Notorious Stripper by ‘Blondie Butler’

T

hroughout the 80s and 90s, Blondie Butler was a name that was well-known by most nudie-bar owners and stripper connoisseurs across Canada and parts of the US; especially those ‘gyno-row’ (front row and center) perverts who never missed an opportunity to spend their lunch hour cozied up along the edges of a stripper stage, contentedly munching their burgers in front of a spread-eagle beaver. The name was bestowed upon me in 1979, the day I began my career as a ‘peeler’ (Canadian slang for ‘one who peels off their clothes’).

I had submitted a photo and application to a local ‘modeling’ agency in Winnipeg, Manitoba, not realizing that ‘modeling’, in this case, was code for ‘strippers’.

The agency was operated by a pair of highstrung homosexuals (who the hell am I kidding?

They were flaming, tiara-wearing queens) who just about fell out of their pink leather chairs when they saw me walk through the door. Hairy and Fairy’s was the only strip…ummm…sorry… model agency in Manitoba at the time, but most of their stable of ‘girls’ were prematurely aged from drugs and booze, flap-jack-tittied or flat-assed; road-worn or just plain worn-out. Jack ‘n Off took one look at my lithe and leggy, bronzed and beach-buffed body and probably sprouted the only boners they had ever had for the opposite sex. I was what they called, ‘Fresh Meat’.

They asked me if I had a stage name. Before I could embarrass myself by asking, “A what?” Dick, in a moment of brilliant originality, decided I should go by the name of ‘Blondie’. Sucker took another hard look at my ass and chimed in with the ‘Butler’ surname. I should have just named myself Little Miss Airhead. They signed me up on the spot to a five-year contract, and I was thrilled. I mean, come on – eighteen-years-old, tits-larger-than-her-IQ, first time away from mommy – I was convinced that in a matter of weeks I’d be shooting for Vogue.

Twiddle and Diddle shook my hand, ushered me out the door, and steered me towards the bus that would take me to my first gig. They stood and waved and watched me walk off, no doubt looking forward to celebrating the fortune they knew they were going to make off of their new ‘TWT’ (Twit With Tits) by a night of butt-plunging and cum-swigging. And they did – make money off of me. A lot of money.

So…while I was flashing my titties in every cockroach (and cock-rubbing) dive-bar across the country, forced to sleep in motels that were as famous for scabies as they were for the five-dollar blowjob, needle-popping skanks that rented their rooms by the month, my agents, ‘Butt’ and ‘Fucker’ were living high off of the lamb, fleecing my naïve ass for every cent it was worth. But I’m not bitter – far from it. I got cultured in more ways than I could have ever predicted; I traveled the world; I befriended wonderfully fucked-up friends who remain fucked-up and friendly to this day – I even ran for Prime Minister of Canada (another future episode).

I spent twenty-five years of my life wriggling around on stripper stages from Tucumcari to Alaska; New Brunswick to Mexico City and everywhere in-between. I learned a lot; I saw a lot – and I wrote it all down. These are my stories, and they’re all true. The only names I changed were that of my former agents, as they’re still alive and I don’t really want to make their faggy craniums any bigger than they are, already. I am, however, not exaggerating when it comes to the degree of their ‘swish’: those two are so flaming their asses spit fire.

And that’s just the first story of and from a Notorious Stripper...

23