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NOT FIT TO PRINT - PART 1It’s back! After relegating it to a lengthy hiatus, we’re happy to present a new installment of Not Fit to Print. This is where we show you some of the most awful, confusing, and sad shit we’ve gotten in the mail recently. We’ve built up quite a pile since the last go-round so let’s dive right into the thick of it… The return address on this Xeroxed mess was for a tiny Southern California noise label, so we can assume that instead of being the product of genuine mental illness, it’s a case of yet another nerd aping mental illness in order to weird people out (which is probably its own mental illness, something like Munchausen’s Syndrome by Dickhead). The typed portion starts out with part of a short story that reads like a high school D&Der’s take on Peter Murphy lyrics… WHITE SLAVE FOR SALE // ABSURD The chamber was a makeshift opium den below a faux temple leased by the ambassador. Justine was on the revolving auction block in a solid glass cage. How she—anyone—could breathe in such a contraption, was an unsettling question. The girl was a certified virgin, Caucasian, of noble lineage (Welsh?), and had been in solitary confinement for all of her twelve years—so she knew nothing, nothing at all, not even how to speak (later I found this very true). A powerful, clear light poured through the cage, exposing in detail every slightest curve, facet… of the pale debutante’s exquisite flesh. The room’s total was illuminated as well—violently—by a refracted madness, or so I remember… the exchange. An old queen next to me claimed she would have Justine at any cost…that Justine would then be decapitated in front of our privileged group…we would then feast of the child…drink her blood—such remarks horrified me, for I thought the old drag serious. Of course she might have been jesting…the opium I’d smoked was taking its toll. …On the second page, however, the things hang a sharp left into babble-land... CAREER ON THE RIVER A CAREER ON THE RIVER OFFERS GREAT OPPORTUNINITIES IF YOU”RE LOOKING FOR COMPETIVE WAGESAND MEDICAL BENEFIT, ? PENSION PLANS, TRAINING PROGRAMS, AND ADVANCEMENT POTENTIAL, YOU’RE LOOKING IN THE RIGHT PLACE. WE HIRE PEOPLE WITH OR WITHOUT RIVER EXPERIENCE, WHO HAVE THE RIGHT BACKGROUND TO WORK AS AASS DECKHAND RIVER SYLE A JOB ON THE RIVER OFFERS UNIQUE LIFESTYLE WORK SCHEDULES ARE 7, 14, 21, or 28 on board a vessel with approximately on equal num,berr of days at home. The shit scrawled over the whole deal is something like a cross between the two pages, and as best we can transcribe it, goes a little something like this… Shredder was hotter than most. He got a job with the CIA cleaning toilets for hoes. The Ambass was a fag. Yet SHREDDER WAS THE ONLY TRUE BLACK METAL Killer. AN ELITIST. Shredder. Not another character space. Shredder the kid the boy the woman’s man who could walk straight tall make any woman feel have in her movie. His age about the same as his IQ. 66.10.15.88. Did it matter? Sur does you bet A Woman wants a man not a girl, not a fossil. A woman needs A Man and these girls were women, make no mistake. Not a boy. No teenage Woman, or almost teenage woman, wants a boy. Leave ‘em—the boys—to the candyballs, Celeste heard her governess say after rosary. I mean whats an IQ anyway? The Governess used to ask herself out loud, for she had married a retard who acted like he wanted all the time. “What A Cunt!” TO BE CONTINUED: NOT FIT TO PRINT | 1 | 2 | Next>
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