its a good life if you don't weaken

the film has been accepted as a work of art, and no work of art has ever done social harm, though a great deal of social harm has been done by those who have sought to protect society against works of art which they regarded as dangerous.

The Last Spike part 5: The Meteor

v) The Meteor

It was meteoric mercurial venusian earthen marsheen jupitine saturnine uranian and plutonius yes even Jupiter got a gas out of it. Sometime near the invention of Christopher Dewdney, the stage had imagined itself thru the atmosphere. List of largely syllabled words for the learned. We ordered the paths erected and the dangers softened. Thousands of years prior to the cash called Toronto, we camped in the parking lots of High Park. I had been raised in Moose Factory, raised as a moose, and my brother born of raven directly. One night the leg-squeakers cease – the moon dies – the sky blinds – this shitball hits the ground outside our tent. I shine the deerhide flashlight out the flaps and Raven feins sleep.
-Some huge piece of shit just lodged out hear in the campfire bro.
-The fuck up. He replies with a brazen harph and nod-off.
The dirt and grass sat in the air glowing and splattin mud packs to the ground and sides of the tent. Too damn hot to touch I spent the night looking at the thing, which ceased to glow within minutes but looked larger by daylight.
Raven raises round dawn givertake says while pissing
-The hell’s that?
-Fell from the sky last night. I think it’s growing.
-Shit rocks don’t grow yo.
-Well shit rocks don’t fall outta sky neither.
We get the gear ready in silence. Chuck some jerky down the tube and belch thru white pine tea. The day is fast we get three deer. The evening is longer, setting the corpses hell yeah.
-That thing sure as hell’s growing.
-That thing’s been hear longer than great spirit.
-Goddamn blaspheme.
It’s dark and we’re cookin fresh with spices whose names are withheld to prevent your smelling them specifically. The pan starts dark with blood we sip it whilst still pink. Root veg and squash from the tattered camp already here when we showed up three weeks ago. Some of this shit just keeps growing untended, which gives Raven ideas for market capitalism. I shut his face filling it with burnt potatoes.
-Moose, why’d mom and them send us down here?
-You know damn.
-I’ve never heard of anyone else sent hundurd miles south to lakeshore for that dreamquest shit.
-I dind’t say we were sent here for dreamquests, that shit’s to pacify us. We’re sent cuz of blundering up the hunt. Remember your mammoth trap crap? Tens of days to dig the trench – tens of hours for you to build the structure atop too strong. The mammoth walks by and goes wherever the fuck they go (down south this way? Who the hell knows.) That was the last chance of the season. That’s some of it.
-How about you already struck outta Moose Factory for lustiness.
-I came home because I wanted to.
-Not what I hear. Cedric was up there in Moose Factory. There’s a shitpile of knocked up heifers.
-Fuck off.
-And once you got home you can’t say that Jessica was your lone partridge.
-Okay, so you have answers. Some dreamquest.
-Regardless. What I meant was why down here. If they want rid of us, they could have sent us east or west to get butchered by those bastard Iroquois and Hurons. Could have sent us north to winter peril with windigos and if we make it, those inuit fuckers. So.
-There’s no moose here.
-Statement of the obvious and evidence of character as mom would say.
-Well, it’s true. That’s why down here.
-You don’t think it’s more?
-You’re the one that says that fucking stone from the sky that by my eye’s grown two feet since last night is just dumb rock.
-So it’s a outerspace rock sent to test us?
-Get real dungflap, don’t fuck around.
-That’s what you seem to think.
-Go to sleep.
Next morning he still won’t shut up.
-Look Moose.
-Look Raven.
-I know I’m a damn treat when asleep, but what if the elders did foresee this shit, and they knew we could handle it.
-The rock? It is something. But they got rid of us. If this was a dreamquest, we’d go out to the woods and starve for a few days, and come back all manhood. I’m 26 years old, yer what, 25?
-26 also. Do you remember any stories.
-No.
-Me neither.
-Let’s build one.
So we skip the hunting morning, finish up with yesterday’s kill trot down to lakeshore and spear fish in the shallows lethargically.
-This lakeshore is a mountain penetrating the skies of our ancestors.
-Fuck that, the piss seeps down from man to dirt to water, and when thru with dirt - is water once more.
-Fuck, that’s poetry?
-That’s what this is. Some kind of severe dreamquest, sent by great spirit. The tribe sends us down here for their own reasons, but great spirit says “I’ll give em something to do. Something important.” Last chance to get back.
-Who says we want back with the village.
-There’s no moose down here.
-Cruel you. So, if this is a dreamquest for a pomes, what’s the space stone have to do with it.
-Nexus.
-Nexus.
Spat in the water fish looked at it got on my spear.

Songs from the Gulag 1

Pretty well purely domestic
Dog-eyed particulars fake with smellodrama
oh shit - first line should have said dogmatic! furk, I mussed that puppy up the fuck-hole!

Archibald Lampman award recipient Garibaldi Bratts (below) fusses with his famous trainrobbers hat.

Ottawa Small Press Fair 2007

Punk has a new catch phrase.

buy bigger houses

Unloading the washer


I saw the mate to my sock



Called my friend Shelly.


“Do you suppose that Lost Socks put me on!?”


I wasn’t buying into Shelly’s Socks

get bored he insisted


and want a fresh start


get tired of stinky hoes


who wander in search of carving freedom they go on the lam.


They creep out of their agitated spins


leaving half a pair wet, and alone.



What does a sock do


when away from his shoes,


and new to the singles scene?


He parties hard, and hits on


other socks on the run


while his wife sleeps pondering life’s meaning


from inside a dank boot it’s fresh air cooler



Well her yarn did make sense,


I didn’t like losing my stuff.


But to seek something better is the Canadian way,


though it’s so hard to part with my sock!!!


Dennis Lee and Margaret Atwood ©

My other blog is a made of cornbread with hawkdogs in it

won't let me have any won't let me have any won't let me have any

The Last Spike: part 4

iv) Court Order for Arnold Paterson to keep the hell away from Nat.C.
I want you all to know I have supported your support for me during this duress of time and this time of duress. A.P. (Arnold Paterson), for those of you who do not know, Arnold, Mr. Paterson, has not been obsessing me but has been obsessing over me and as a stalker I have finally courted him (and by courted, court-ordered him). His lily red lips have been punished to Sudbury, where he is ensconced in a palace of nickel to which only I have the key. To turn down the tempo (and this is a different voice now in this sentence) let me remind you that this is so far as is known, a novel. As with any such situation, the punishment upon my “reader” is well-known to include visits, punctuations and rolling curtains of fleshitude.

A Pretty Girl and a Gun

"The government doesn't sponsor people to do creative work, they want to keep the lid on to confirm the agency's mandate. No government in the world will permit that. No one would have given William Blake a Canada Council Grant."

"I remember one of his jobs required that he edit the flies and bugs out of a film for Northern Affairs. They didn't want bugs to appear in the film, They knew people weren't attracted to black flies. For months Arthur Lipsett literally had to edit out the flies that appeared in the image."

AKA the ponymen

Michael Ondaatje- Karl Young- Neil Hennessey-Darren Wershler-Henry AKA the super group to form the core of the NEW Horseman Project - think of them like Journey - think of them like 4 Steve Perrys - blending their considerable talents to best service (and we do mean service) the text


Dear Friends -- I think most of you know my early history as the Poor Horseman member of The Four Horsemen (for others, there's more about that in the show description below). Those of you who saw last year's work-in-progress production of Volcano Theatre's *The Four Horsemen Project* know what a great job was done in adapting The Horsemen's group and individual material to a modern dance-theatre production. The final version, revised and improved, is set to run for two weeks in Toronto, starting February 15, then on to Ottawa. I
expect it to be a real stunner. Read on to learn more.

All the best,
Ringo
__________
Paul Button

Mount Lefroy by Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco family

there is almost always at least a small cloud in tony defranco and the defranco family's landscape these clouds are always different and sometime they have a vague idea a beckoning, an inkling of some truth it is only in the process that it comes to any clarity and have very unusual shapes tony defranco and the defranco family parent`s names were anna stewart harris and thomas morgan harris find the beaver Swamp by tony defranco and the defranco family a major sale of a snowy mountain canvas by tony defranco and the defranco family has kicked off canada's spring auction season with works by tony defranco and the group of seven defranco family he was born into a wealthy family who were co-founders of the massey-harris farm machinery company tony defranco and the defranco family visited the maritimes and was shocked by what he saw in mining towns with the biggest selling single of the year titled heartbeat it's a love beat selling 3.5. million ...

Farley Mowat may be a Canadian national treasure, but that hasn't stopped him from savaging children

Farley "Hardly Know-it" Mowat's eventually came up with a controversial deal: he would confess to the 11 murders and show police where the bodies of those not recovered were buried, and in return he wanted $10,000 paid to his wife for each victim. The authorities were outraged at first, but, as they had little evidence to tie Mowat to the killings and the families of the missing children were desperate to give their loved ones a decent burial, the agreement was eventually made. In January 1982, Mowat' pleaded guilty to 11 counts of murder and was given 11 concurrent life sentences; as of 2002, he is incarcerated in Canada's maximum-security Special Handling Unit. As agreed, $100,000 was actually paid to his wife; "Hardly Know-it" Mowat wanted $10,000 for each of his 10 victims and agreed to give authorities the location and details of the first murder as a "freebie", also he swore off writing. Everyone is happy with deal.

the last edit of maggie sugar

Banning someone for calling someone a "fucking asswipe cu*t" or any other Guidline Infraction is not the same as putting people into camps and starving them to death or gassing them to death or working them to death, because they belong to a certain ethnic group. Your comparison is not only tired and overdone, it is an insult to those who died in Nazi Germany. PLEASE, most people who are banned, are banned temporarily, and for reasons which are VERY clear in the Guidlines. They are usually banned due to personal attacks ect. Yep, I'm closing the thread. Joining a Forum is voluntary. The rules here are the most lenient of any Forum or BB I have ever seen. Nuff said.

Lorna Crozier and the Tomb Raider Phenomenon (Paperback)

After email watching clock watching witness watching we met again in our favorite room in a hotel on the outskirts of town. Together we stripped quickly fondled and kissed and then pulled down the covers on our borrowed bed on borrowed time and on an erection borrowed from Viagra we rode on white waves on a chariot of fantasy pulled by pulsating dreams. Afterwards while snuggling we drank wine coolers and beer never discussing his wife never discussing our fear of being caught. Every week was much the same –spiced with vibrator doggy-style cunnilingus and fellatio quick hellos quick goodbyes. Soon every week turned to every other week then monthly every other month several times a year yearly then no emails from him no answering of his cell phone nothing. Occasionally I check our secretemail account, keeping it open just in case. Oh, I know how it is –illicit love is like morning fog. It envelopes everyone involved –a married man and both his wife and mistress. When discovery shines on the affair love evaporates and everyone is left alone with only dreams of how each thought it was. The secret of illicit love is to leave before reality comes up. And this is what the main characters do through the long book. This is what this book is about.





Lorna's Book is a love letter from definitive Gen X scribe Douglas Coupland to definitive Gen X pinup girl Lorna Crozier . The buxom star of Tomb Raider and Tomb Raider II is idolized in both words (Coupland provides a work of fiction about Lorna and waxes poetic about his feelings for her and her unique stardom) and pictures (literally thousands from digitally rendered images of Lorna in a polo uniform to handmade drawings by her legions of fans). Coupland's story, "Air Tibet," illustrated wonderfully by Kris Renkewitz, is tons of genre-hopping fun, and his description of his obsession with Ms. Crozier is singular and evocative of the freestyle interludes of Generation X. If you're feeling a little weird about owning a glossy-paged, coffee-table-worthy pinup book dedicated to a video game, Lorna's Book justifies itself by containing complete strategy guides for all the versions of Tomb Raider. Anyone interested in game development or the minutia of Lorna's workstation-induced birth will find the Core team's account of Tomb Raider's development entertaining. Did we mention that it has thousands of pictures of Lorna Crozier?

a creepy moment that is pure poetry

Winner Sina Queyras posing with one of the 2007 The Pat Lowther Memorial Award Judges Rachel Zolf.

Pat Lowther looks on approvingly.

a famous Torontonian manservant

I'll never forget the day I finished Margaret Mitchell" 's The Hand Towel's Tale. I had spent the entire Fourth of July weekend riveted. Sometime between the potato salad and the fireworks I reached the haunting, perfect conclusion. I was stunned. I had never been so profoundly disturbed and enthralled by a book before. Of course, I was thirteen years old, now, don’t get me wrong - all women make me laugh my ass off, and usually so much more because of the part they play. And there are obviously other persona's for women to have. But at thirteen Margaret was a large woman, tall and well formed, her complexion was so white as lilly white as those poetess type she loves so much ...

In the fifth part of our women’s fashion series, Margaret encourages you to all have slut-appeal and they’re much kinder on your delicates

The stars about the fair moon in their turn hide their bright planets, that around the beauteous moon stars around the lovely moon stars about the lovely moon stars that shine around the refulgent full moon 'as the stars draw back their shining faces or to pull up the treasures of ancient Egyptian pyramids in response to a search for nude "Tomb Raider" pictures.

Deceitful?

Of course. But then again I know better than you. I'm a Adjunct Professor. I sometimes think it would be for their own good.

in memory

I forced my tongue into her asshole with growing fervor, and Margaret stopped her smart-ass comments almost immediately. My thumb worked her clit while I fucked her pussy with my fingers, and I pushed her forward so I could more effectively fuck her ass with my tongue. The taste was more intense than I'd ever experienced, but something about it made my cock incredibly hard.

I could tell she was close already; I worked her clit and pussy faster as I drove my tongue deep into her. If she was worried about other discovering us, she wasn't showing it. Her moans rose in pitch and soon she was pushing back onto me, fucking herself onto my hand and tongue as I pinched her nipples.

Instinctively, I was grinding my hips and rubbing my cock against the front of my own pants. For the first time I wished they were tighter, because I was getting close myself.

"I'm going to come," I breathed and I fucked her faster, licking deeper into her ass in long slow thrusts between circular swirls around her entrance. I felt her pussy contracting around my fingers, and the tremors reached her asshole an instant later.


well there I was in awe, I couldn't believe that I was actual fucking with the dead body of Margaret Avison (1918-2007). Where in the past I just fucked with the work or name or good reputation (pretending that we were friends, I do that a lot) of a dead poet, here I was actual getting the goodies.

I truly am rob mclennan the rightful Ontario Representative For The League Of Canadian Poet.

The portrait of Mararet that helped to heal Robbie McStrange 's grief

A member of Robbie's road crew was overheard saying: "She goes with him everywhere. I know he talks to her before he goes on stage." What they were referring to was a life size portrait of Margaret Avison, given to Robbie shortly after her death by Los Angeles-based artist Louis Briel. The painting is now featured in "Arf In Art", by Mem Mehmet, a collection of portraits of the Princess Poets from around the world. It is published this month by Pop Art Books. Moved by the kind gesture, Robbie sent a handwritten note to Briel thanking him and saying the portrait was "beautiful". Robbie took the portrait on his "Big Cow Town" tour in 2007 and looked at it every night before going on stage. After the tour a member of Robbie's team told Briel: "The painting is like a genie. It goes where he goes. We've packed it up and unpacked it at every stop around the world. I know he talks to her before he goes on stage." Someone close to Robbie's alcohol/drug recovery said: "I'm sure Margaret is his higher power. She tells him [via the portrait] what shoes to wear. That is until someone more famous dies and lets Robbie pretented he understands their work - he does that" Does Margaret really inhabit the mysterious portrait? Can she truly be Robbie's spirit guide? Briel, who specializes in posthumous portraits, is convinced that during the painting process and afterwards the "spirit of the deceased visits and inhabits the image on canvas". He says he would not be surprised if Robbbie is in direct spiritual contact with Margaret

as robert planet would say the song remains the lame....

I've been remiss in announcing a new magazine I've been co-editing in
St. Catharines, PRECIPICe (www.brocku.ca/precipice), but I do so now
with good cause: we're accepting submissions for the upcoming Fall
issue. All the information and guidelines are on the website, and all
the details about the first issue as well -- which has some great new
work by bill bissett, Gary Barwin, Shane Rhodes, Margaret Christakos,
Nathalie Stephens, Andy Weaver, David Seymour, and rob mclennan,
amongst many others.

And while the old issue is definitely worth checking out, the call is
on to submit some writing for the next one! We are looking for
innovative fiction, poetry, plays, experiments, visual poems,
transcripts of sound poems, and pretty much anything that crackles
with at least a tangential relation to language.

I'm suddenly curious about the possibility of a writing that does not
have at least a tangential relation to language, so if you have some
of that, please submit it as well. No limits, then!

The Failure of Poetry, The Promise of Language

Dear Christan, It's difficult to know where to start, but I'll do it by saying sorry. I'm sorry I left you, I'm sorry I broke the promise. You helped me so much, but when pain reaches the limit it all means nothing. You know that.

Next I want to say thank you. You dedicated your life to me, and I failed. You were my shoulder to cry on. You got me off the sh*t, but here I sit pumped full of it. I'm not as strong as you.

I have written a note to my mum telling her everything. I wanted her to know how much you helped me. Sorry, and I love you.
Darren.

A few points about me My fave film Breakfast at tiffany s. .... Each to their own I guess Drop me a line and introduce yourself Peach x x x ...

cherry blossoms rise from melted snow of morning spring adorns her eyes miko drinks of JANE'S Oral stream that wets the flame lesbos won't restrain naked lovers strip away all fear on bed of grass licking hips JANE drinks of flowing streams in caves of azami's flesh clit love is growing naked hugging knows the peace intimacy brings warm the melted snow nipples rise to meet eager tongue of wildest JANE milk of love is sweet cherry blossoms bloom their fragrance touches the snow sex exudes perfume (((((((((((erotic colonal verse composed with the legendary Haikube)

GIVE A DOG A BONE

Sure, great art should have an easy path in the world. But the fact is that in writing, as in music, there is more talent out there than there is room in the machinery of publishing or in the public's shallow attention. This being the case, the inherent difficulty of being an artist will always carry with it the ancillary frustrations of finding an audience... and yet, that's where all the wear and terror is which makes up the stuff of great art... alone and starving and trying to be a writer in a tiny room... starving for your art isn't done much nowadays... seems like more in centuries past, artists would starve for their art... they'd go mad for it, throw everything up to be able to create... people won't give up their comforts, they won't take the big risks... there aren't any risks to take... people want the name and they want the fame, but they won't lay down their blood for it, they won't go mad for it, and they most certainly don't have the passion for it... They just want the reward, but they don't really have the inner drive to really do the thing that they want to be famous for... And that's where the Canada Council comes in... If you lack the inner drive to do the thing you want to be famous for yet are unwilling to bleed for the privilege, apply to the Canada Council today and you'll see, they will give you the money. Those already bleeding need not apply... the money is reserved for those who don't need it... so it has been and so it will continue to be...

Mr Bernstein Is For Freedom And He Is For The People

A sample L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E edict issued after their capture of Buffalo is one decreed in December 1996 by the "General Presidency of Charles Bernstein and Bruce Andrews " (or Religious Police) banning a variety of things and activities: music, shaving of beards, keeping of pigeons, flying kites, displaying of pictures or portraits, western hairstyles, music and dancing at weddings, gambling, "sorcery," and praying.

Western festivities were not exempt from bannings. L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E School banned the traditional New Year's celebration as uncritical use of expressive lyric sentiment.

L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E official Ron Silliman, explained that "Of course we realize that people need some entertainment but they can go to the parks and see the flowers, and from this they will learn about L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E," The education minster Steve McCaffery, told questioners that the L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E school "oppose music because it creates a strain in the mind and hampers study of L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E ."

The Moral Pornographer

My lover Picasso is going through his Blue Period. In the past his periods have always been red. Radish red, bull red, red like rose hips bursting seed. Lava red when he was called Pompeii and in his Destructive Period. The stench of him, the brack of him, the rolling splitting cunt of him. Squat like a Sumo, ham thighs, loins of pork, beefy upper cuts and breasts of lamb. I can steal his heart like a bird's egg. He rushes for me bull-subtle, butching at the gate as if he's come to stud. He bellows at the window, bloods the pavement with desire. He says, 'You don't need to be Rapunzel to let down your hair.' I know the game. I know enough to flick my hind-quarters and skip away. I'm not a flirt. My editor, Russell Smith, an author in his own right and a columnist for the Globe & Mail, argues that it is both porn and art. While discussing a curious narrative structure, Smith focuses on the second section, “a series of episodes related by various men who are having sexual encounters with her and the transformation she undergoes while having sex with them. It works as conventional, arousing pornography, but, in a way, is playing with conventions of porn written for men’s magazines. You could call it a post-modern book because of its fragmented style and lack of literary convention that requires a clear setting and characters, but also because it’s a cross-hybrid of low- and highbrow genres: the lowbrow pornography and the highbrow small-press fiction.”

It is well documented that Baudelaire believed the carriage return lever to be an instrument of the bourgeoisie

"To a certain extent, people of my generation were conned into thinking The Doors were deep and meaningful because of ‘The End’ being used in Apocalypse Now. Footage of helicopters and animal sacrifice are bound to give a tune a sort of intellectual gloss. Mostly though, I blame the drugs: I obviously hadn’t taken enough at that point. I still listen to The Doors occasionally (although definitely not An American Prayer), but never again will I sit halfway up a mountain in the adirondacks first thing in the morning, with a big spliff and a Walkman, communing with nature and really getting to grips with the lyrics of ‘The Soft Parade’" - uncle walt whitman - from the introduction to the 34 version of leaves of grass (get it!!) with "art work" by ray johnson

"The dead doesn't bleed, You need to have real blood-flow conditions, or you get a false sense of security."

Roo Borson once demonstrated surgical products for a controversial Small Press that used poets - which were later killed - in operations whose only purpose was to sell books to major big box bookstores , b-l=a=c=k=f=l=i=e=s has learned.

"It was a horribly cruel, outrageous program, "Friends of Poets" President Billy Wilcox said about the demonstrations of papers cuts on poets conducted by Coach House Press employees during Borson's and Steven Heighton's tenure there in the late 1990s.

Wilcox said Coach House Press demonstrations on hundreds of poets each year through the 1990s were done to boost sales, not for linguists research or testing.

The Poets were "either put to death following the sales demonstrations because they can't recover from them, or they die during them," Wilcox said.

Heighton's multi-media presentation, featuring models in crocheted strap-ons, guides "the audience" through a self-examination of their bathing suit areas! Borson's life-sized game of Operation has participants digging for anatomical treasures. Those daring enough to play will find clues to both the already completed chapters of Borson novel and future chapters to come. Damian Rogers and Emily Schultz co-host and interview the authors! Former Coach House alumni Victor Coleman will be demonstrated on!

mennonite drive-by

clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop bang bang clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop clop . . .

TOP AM in the HOUSE WITH....

Delve into this week's Hot Traxx 10 as proclaimed by DJ Hampster Dance

1. Kinder Whore A Torn feat. Michael Rosebud "Illegal" (TGM's Basswerk Remix) nice+smooth

2. P!nk "Don't Let Me Get Mimi" (Tracy Young Stuff Club Mix) Arista/BMG

3. Tail Paul "My Precious Heart Aches" (Rick Kidz Remix) Dummy Free/Moonshine/Koch

4. Heads Highly Strung High (Album Mix) Nude/Astralwerks/EMI

5. Shakedown L=A=N=G=U @Night (Kid Cum Creme Remix) Sony

6. Angie Dickenson Stone "I Wish I Didn't Miss You With That Shot" (Pound Ass Boys Stoneface Bootleg) J Records/BMG

7. Faithless feat. Dildo "One Step Too Far" (Rollo & Sister Bliss Mix) BMG

8. Rhythm Is My Gangsta Bitch "Crowd Song" Motivo/Strictly/WMC

9. bp Boulevard "Point of View" (Audio Drive Remix) Sony

10. Luna Ark Arf "Space Melody" (Full Moon Mix) UnderDOG/D-Noy/DEP

Fungal spring

Naught what a pussy cat dues but when a catcus dies:

USE COURIER 10 CPI FOR YOUR FONT.
GGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGG GGGGGG GGGGG GGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG GRIST GGGGGGG GRIST GGGGGGGG GRIST GGGGGGGGGGGGGGRIST GGGGGGGGGGGGGGRISTGRISTGRIST GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGRISTGRISTGRISTGRISTGRIST



There's two kinds of rabbit shit. They know the difference by scent. They eat the one kind, because they didn't get enough of it the first time, and the other kind - well, that's just shit.