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content october 2011 stained ass - Doug Somers Radeo 4 - Scott Hintz

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Calendar of Events

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An Interview with John Becker on the “Truth Wins Out” Organization - William E. Kelly

Doug Somers - pg 18

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Wisconsin - samuelbeaton

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rasta daisy - Doug Somers

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All the World’s Knowledge Michael Wilson

Dana Talbot-Heindl, Chris TalbotHeindl, Jared Heindl, Jesha LaMarche - pg 12

cover

Officer Donut - Dana TalbotHeindl

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Anabella Drummond 1 -Scott Hintz

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Group Drawing #4 - Dana TalbotHeindl, Chris Talbot-Heindl, Jared Heindl, Jesha LaMarche Fight Against Gay Marraige Societal or Religious? - Kelleigh Cram

on the front cover: stained ass

Doug Somers Photo graft

stevens point spillway - Doug Somers

on the inside front cover:

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Radeo 4

Donors & Index

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Scott Hintz Photoshop illustration scottysevere.tumblr.com

Alien Love - Dana Talbot-Heindl

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on the inside back cover: Alien Love

Dana Talbot-Heindl Illustration www.talbot-heindl.com

about b’k:

bitchin’ kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. it exists for the purpose of open creativity. if you have something you want to share, please email it to chris@ talbot-heindl.com.

donation:

we love our donors. If you would like to become a donor, email chris@talbot-heindl.com and make your pledge.

advertising:

bitchin’ kitsch is offering crazy low rates of $5 for a fourth-page ad, $10 for a half-page ad, and $20 for a full page ad. book yours today by emailing chris at chris@talbotheindl.com.

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Stevens Point (and neighbors) Calendar of Events Art

September 30-October 2 Hidden Studios Tour - Art Along the Ice Age Trail, Friday and Saturday 10:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m., Sunday 11:00 a.m. - 4:00 p.m. See fine art in the making. www.hiddenstudiosarttour.com Through October 21 New Face: New Work from Alexandra Owen at Scarabocchio Art Museum. Through October 23 Descanse en Paz: The Homemade Grave Marker in the Southwest. Edna CarlstenGallery Through October 30 Paintings by Ann Singsaas at Riverfront Arts Center. Month of October New Directions in Mosaics: Pauline Merry Pray at Gallery Q Artists’ Cooperative. www.qartists.com/

Dance

October 26 Aszure Barton and Artists at Theater @ 1800. 7:30 p.m. 715-346-4100 for tickets. www.uwsp.edu/centers/pas

Music

October 8 Michael Jerling at Lettie Jensen Community Center, Amherst. 7:30 p.m. 715-824-5202. October 14 Family Groove Company with The Sandrose Band at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m. www.familygrooveco.com October 20 Hamell on Trial and Galynne

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Goodwill with Mark on Drums at Kristin’s Riverwalk. 8:00 p.m. October 22 Wrath of the Girth with Whispering Hallows at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m. October 27 The Snowbirds with Brighton, MA at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m. October 28 The Big Wu with Hott Saxxx at the Laird Room, DUC. 8:00 p.m. October 29 Trent Romans at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m.

Theater

October 20-23 Dirty Rotten Scoundrels at Theater @ 1800. Thursday - Saturday performances at 7:30 p.m., Sunday at 4:00 p.m. Call 715-346-4100 for tickets. Other

October 1 Wisconsin Solar Tour. Showcase homes and businesses with renewable energy and green building technologies. www.midwestrenew.org

edu/multicultural/SHAMA October 15 Jeff Civilico - Comedy in Action at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m. www.jeffcivilico.com October 15 10th Annual Empty Bowls. SPASH, 11:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. Attendees pay $11 to choose a bowl created by area artists and enjoy a delicious meal donated by local restaurants. Sponsored by Portage County’s Hunger & Poverty Prevention Partnership. www.emptybowlsportageco.com October 20 Tig Notaro (Comedy) at The Encore, DUC. 8:00 p.m. www.tignation.com October 22 Sorenson’s Greenhouse Project Halloween Benefit Concert at Wetter’s Farm, 485 Casmir Road, 5:00 p.m. - midnight. $15 general admission, $10 in costume at the door or for purchase in advance at www.farmshed.org October 21-23 Meditation and Yoga Retreat at Artha Sustainable Living Center in Amherst. Friday 6:30 p.m. - Sunday 4:00 p.m. 715-824-3463 www.arthaonline.com

October 4 Native Plant Seed Collecting: Tricks and Tips from a Plant Enthusiast, with Patrick Goggin. 7:15 p.m. at UWSP’s Trainer Natural Resources Building, Large Lecture Hall, Room 170. 715-344-1431 October 8 4th Annual Festival of India. Workshops, buffet dinner, and stage performances. SPASH. www.uwsp.

If you would like to see your event in The Bitchin’ Kitsch next month, please email the details to chris@talbot-heindl.com.


william e. kelly. An Interview with John Becker on the “Truth Wins Out” Organization: And the Undercover Operation that Exposed Michele and Marcus Bachmann’s Clinic By: William E. Kelly Reprinted with permission from The RAGE Monthly Jay Jones, Publisher and Owner of RAGE www.ragemonthly.com William:

What is Truth Wins Out (T.W.O.)?

John:

Truth Wins Out is an organization formed by activist Wayne Besen in 2006 to expose the fraudulent “ex-gay” industry, to counteract their propaganda, oppose anti-LGBT religious extremism and educate Americans about LGBT people.

William:

It was formed the same week that George W. Bush invited so-called “ex-gay” activists to the White House to help him lobby for the Federal Marriage Amendment, which would have amended the U.S. Constitution to forbid same-sex couples from marrying.

John:

I have followed Wayne’s work for several years but became involved with TWO in March of 2011 after meeting him when he spoke in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Prior to that time, my husband Michael and I served as a spokescouple for Fair Wisconsin, the statewide LGBT rights organization in our home state.

William: John: William: John:

William: John:

How did you become involved?

How did the “sting” develop? Reporters questioned TWO about rumors that the Bachmanns’ clinic was practicing so-called “exgay reparative therapy.” When Michelle Goldberg of the Daily Beast contacted us, we decided to dig deeper. Wayne came up with the idea of going undercover but was too well known to do it himself, so I was asked. The goal was to document with 100 percent certainty whether Bachmann & Associates practiced “exgay therapy.” Information about the sting was kept quiet until it hit the national media. My account of the experience can be found at: http://www.truthwinsout.org/pressreleases/2011/07/17519/ Were you hesitant? Not hesitant, but definitely nervous. I’d never gone undercover before—I’d only read about these operations and seen them on TV—what if someone became suspicious or there was technical failure? Being a trained performer, I was confident I could play the part. The toughest thing was feeling guilty about erasing the one person and relationship that makes my life worth living. I got through those guilt feelings by reminding myself that I was performing an important service for the LGBT community and remembering the many stories I’d heard from survivors of “ex-gay therapy.” What was sudden fame like? The media blitz was a wonderful learning experience for me as an activist and being able to expose

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william e. kelly (con’t).

the Bachmanns’ ties to extremist “therapy” was a great opportunity. It got the truth out, informed the public about Michele and Marcus Bachmann’s anti-LGBT, extremist views and shined a bright light on TWO’s important work and the dangers and ineffectiveness of “reparative therapy.” The conversation is still going on in the media and in American society and I feel very honored to have played a part in getting that conversation started.

William:

What wouldn’t most readers know about you?

John:

A tough question. Let’s see—I have an extensive background in music and hold bachelor’s and master’s degrees in vocal performance.

William:

I love politics (and I’m a HUGE Rachel Maddow geek), traveling with my husband and have been obsessed with sharks, tornadoes, ancient Egypt, skyscrapers (particularly Manhattan’s Chrysler Building), flags, geography and world cultures since childhood. How did you meet Michael?

John:

We met in a summer community theater musical in Green Bay, it was love at first sight and we’ve been inseparable ever since. We met in July, were engaged in August and married in Toronto the following March—it was a young whirlwind courtship to be sure. But as the old saying goes, when you know, you know—this year we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.

William:

All couples have moments of better and worse, sickness and health, richer and poorer (still waiting for the “richer” part), ups and downs, but we’re even crazier about each other now than the day we met. Michael is my soul-mate and I’m unbelievably blessed to have found him (now I’m tearing up!), he’s absolutely everything to me.

John:

My parents, Lyle and Michele, have been married for 30 years. They created a loving nurturing home for me and my younger brothers, Mark, Paul and Scott—we ate, made music, grew, laughed, cried together and love each other very deeply. Their love is a source of inspiration for Michael and me. I consider myself very lucky to have never doubted being loved totally and unconditionally and with few exceptions my immediate and extended family have welcomed Michael with open arms.

William: John:

Michael is also the reason I fight for LGBT equality and the reason I know that we will prevail in our struggle. Our opponents are unable to fight harder against my marriage, than I will fight for it, their hatred will never be stronger than our love. Our love gives my life meaning. To what do you attribute your positive energy and optimism?

What’s next? I will continue to fight for LGBT equality and make music in my spare time. To find out more about “TRUTH WINS OUT checkout: http://www.truthwinsout.org/ or e-mail John Becker, Director of Communications and Development at: John@truthwinsout.org

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samuelbeaton, doug somers. Wisconsin

by: samuelbeaton www.samuelbeaton.com I have traveled about 3 miles in my life, and I like to think I’ve seen some things. DePere, WI.

A calm town right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I have been thrown out of this city for skateboarding more than once. Weird part: I don’t skateboard. I’ve been arrested there as well. Apparently, they don’t enjoy a drunk 19 year old kid falling out of a car when asked for identification. Don’t worry, ladies, I wasn’t driving. But, why would any police officer arrest a young, blue haired man for being drunk on a Saturday night in rural DePere? Oh, the blue hair thing? The drunk thing? The underage thing? The fact that we turned the wrong way on a one-way? I say it’s erroneous. They knew who I was and that I’d have to sign autographs to get out of my ticket. I did. It was on a check.

see Smashing Pumpkins on Oct. 13th. I hope we make it back alive. Stevens Point, WI.

I used to play hockey for many years. We’d go to SP for games every couple months. The teams were terrible, but the town was fun. By fun, I mean horrible. I know that a few of the readers here will be from that town. Sucks to be you. Not saying Green Bay is any better. It’s not. It’s actually worse. I digress. I mean, for a population of 12, you guys have sure made a name for yourselves. I think I once saw a porn being shot there. Yes, I was the director. So, I know that a I saw a porn being shot there. It was tastefully done. Anyway, I’m out of the writing game for a little while. Mostly because I can’t stand to write the stupid stuff that I have been writing lately. I’m off my game. When I come up with something worth typing again, you’ll be the first to know, kids. Remember, Samuel Beaton loves you. And your mothers.

Green Bay, WI.

I live here. It’s great. Oh, did I say great? I meant that I hate it. Sometimes. You see, GB is a lot like a Frat party for a school you never went to. If you don’t like the Packers, you’re the most hated guy in a dorm of 100,000 people. Not a fun place to be. I am a Packers fan, just so you all know. I think it’s because it’s been imbedded in my brain that the Packers are our lifeline. If we don’t have that, we become DePere. Man, I hate that city. Oshkosh, WI.

I once got invited to a party with some friends of mine who live in Oshkosh. It was at a place called “Garbage Hill”. I thought this was just a name of a cool punk house or bar. Nope. It was literally a landfill. My hands shook with rage until I found out that the beer was free and the ride home was taken care of. I will say this about Oshkosh: I didn’t see one guy named Oscar at the party. Milwaukee, WI.

I hate this city. It’s too big, I almost got mugged there, and people seem to walk around with a chip on their shoulders all the time. Plus, it doesn’t help that the unemployment rate in the town is almost as big as Detroit’s. But, it has some qualities. The Rave, The Riverside Theater, The Pabst, etc. Basically, places that I go to see bands. In fact, my girlfriend and I are going to

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rasta daisy Doug Sommers Photo graft


michael wilson. All the World’s Knowledge by: Michael Wiilson Introduction:

Carrots and cheese! Who cares? Why did I even bother? I had inspired myself into thinking there was some finger there waiting for mine. And all of a sudden, like “eh? . . . uh.” Fleeting moment’s vanished. Whate’er there could follow couldn’t be much worse. So bring it on. Whenever there is lightning, somebody better bring mustard. And forget about peeling potatoes when you realize you’ve made your way to San Francisco. Bring mustaches, while we’re at it, just to have something on which to dump all the excess mustard. Dump it all there, actually. Dump. If you ever find yourself in a Tibetan monk’s house, do not mention the squirrels. Or the watermelons. Jesus, the watermelons. One time I thought I was so in the know, you know, like, way there. And all of a sudden there’s this insane triangle-looking thing staring at me. I’m all like: “There’s got to be a backside to that dartboard.” After investigating it, little-much, I realized I had been dreaming all along. All expenses were paid, of course, but it was one helluva disappointing tee for a decrepit generation of golf players, I’ll tell you that. The television hadn’t been on in decades. So much of our time had been released as entropy! There was no escape. Dreams had put me here, then. It was a hard realization. A dark place to be. It was like walking into the most hostile environment ever and then realizing you were in your own living room. Uncomfortable. Regardless of the zoo-o-logy, or the zoology, or the soliloquy, something had gone wrong with these damned animal cells. So the fucking triangle is facing me like it’s got something to prove. I’m all like, bring it on.

I can be afraid of you, because there are enough bombs ready to detonate right now to destroy the planet like 57 times over. Or, like 56. So bring it on. This fucking triangle. I can be afraid of you, because I love the colorful circles that naturally form inside of you. I can be afraid of you and “like it” on facebook. Fucking triangles. And then it turns to me, and--just like a squirrel would-it fucking starts turning into cubes. Cubes became oceans, and all of a sudden there was change. The triangle had become a deer. Deer. Dear. All the World’s Knowledge:

All the world’s knowledge! Here’s to a plateau. But here’s to escalation. No need, take it easy. Celebrate! Rejoice! I am in love. It’s very similar to living in fear. Or living in death. It doesn’t hold me back. It empowers me. It’s not silly to think you could overthrow it all. Well, not everything was always cool, you know. The metaphor still existed at a point, sometime in the past. Not anymore. It’s like, I used to think in a certain way. I was lost and found. It makes PERFECT sense. All of a sudden. A timely realization, that’s for sure. But to whom do we owe this pleasure? “Certainly not us, here.” I would answer myself. Something else, out there. 9


michael wilson (con’t), dana talbot-heindl. “We should always be looking for something external, I’ve learned.” It’s waning, but it’s there.

All of a sudden a flower would bloom, and I would be too busy thinking about describing it. You know what I mean?

It completes me. It’s out there.

But then all the stars lined up, and I realized I knew. It wasn’t that I had thought that what we had thought was what we thought was right. What we had thought then, we all thought all along. It was! It wasn’t right or wrong. Don’t need to trip up about it.

I could purchase it and then sell it for $.20 more. All of the earth’s children come singing to you, “Apricot morning!” What do you do? I could ask them for a favor. Or I could tell them I have something, like, I found something, something real cool, so awesome it will cure the bitterness inside of us. They’d stop paying attention, I reckon. There’s something out there. I can almost sense it. But still Earth’s wonders are best left untouched. What was that bit about the squirrels about? And the monk, jeering at me, what the fuck?

I knew and I had always known. And so had everybody else. It was love. It was you. It was us. We were all. We were family. We were like a pack of lions, but everything was a part of the pack. We were then and now, all at once. All the world’s knowledge! And having it meant, by definition, that we were unable to be happy unless we used it. All of a sudden we didn’t want to have it unless everyone could have at it too. - Cigarettes and alcohol? There it was! Luckily, I found them. I had forgotten how easy it was to be happy. I was suddenly too focused on all these things, you know? Thank God I lost all distractions. - Why does it have to hurt when I don’t have it? - Just wake the fuck up, you don’t need it. - Caffeine, you mean? - Dog gammit! We better get some shit straight before we proceed. It’s okay.

Officer Donut Dana Talbot-Heindl Ink on paper www.talbot-heindl.com

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Everything is. Always. In the now.


michael wilson (con’t), scott hintz. Pushing hate away hates the hate even more than having it. But still there is some self-loathing to do after your laundry. It’s raunchy. It’s like a bad soundtrack. It’s a dumb realization! All of a sudden, it was obbbbbbbvvvvvvvvvious. And eeeeveryone that had ever existed had come across it too, at some point. I’d and Id and ID had had it. And so did you. Jesus! We all fucking shared it. Some of us held it, though. What the fuck? Don’t need to trip up about it. Just use it and pass it along to as many as you can! Isn’t it beautiful? What would you do with it? Not that we could kill it, if someone were looking to.

In fact, if you wanted to destroy it, You already succeeded. No need to trip up about it. DNA and adding. There are so many ways! To explain away. Oh, no. A cordial nod to your logic, hats off, a general sign of approval for the fresh smell of your head coming from inside it. But it’s no use here. Oh no. We can’t have it making us act like a bunch of fops anymore. Walking around like we knew what was what. Pee-aightch-dee... P.F.F. Pff. Oh yeah. I remembered. All this fucking “trance trance revolution” music, it was taking us away from the Point. “Buy me, buy me!” Fuck you. It’s like all of a sudden you’re Robespierre giving the guillotine sentence to the old lady in my subconsciousness. Or that fucking mind-tripping, balls-having, everything-Iever-wanted consumer electronic. It makes colors. - Fucking yeah. I’ll buy! “Munch, munch, much.” And then, if all of the humans in the world were gone, all of a sudden. I’d feel guilty. It’s that voice in the back of my mind, going “Fucking, tighten up, Mike Wilson!” All I want to do is be okay with it. Be like, “Okay, okay... you got it.” And still have freedom.

Arabella Drummond 1 Scott Hintz Photoshop illustration scottysevere.tumblr.com

To realize you can’t have your cake with ice cream surely makes old ladies lose their panties. And imagine the duress with which they have to put them on, in the first place. Jesus.

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michael wilson (con’t), dana talbot-heindl, chris talbot-heindl, jared heindl, jesha lamarche.

Nevermind. Don’t imagine that.

There’s no way to afford it.

But really, the point is that you want old ladies to lose their shit.

All of a sudden it felt like winter. I put a sweater on and was totally feeling better, like, immediately. I wished everyone had sweaters to wear.

I tried living without music, once. Then I was like, “why?” That’s one thing about music.

Group Drawing #4 Dana Talbot-Heindl, Chris Talbot-Heindl, Jared Heindl, Jesha LaMarche Ink and graphite on paper

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It was fall. Was it? Yeah. It was Labor Day. The sun rises every morning, but there have been more


michael wilson (con’t). bullets than stars. It hurts my jaw. It’s beautiful. Somebody better put it into words. Ahoy! It’s a canvass! Make it happen.

It was so big and bad, it was made even scarier because it was falling apart. It was meant to be, if you ask me.

N O W.

Drums and African tribes people and Martian marshmallows. Everything existed in the K N O W.

It was right at about the time I had it all that I realized I it was all lost on me. I blinked. I stopped for coffee somewhere and realized I still didn’t have it.

We didn’t see it. It was hard to see it. It’s difficult not to laugh it off, actually. But we have to be okay with fear. So, I don’t think laughing is bad.

I didn’t have it because I was fucking taught how to search for it. Fucking running constantly away. Fucking pulling a lever, Fucking buying an ipod, Fucking stepping on my brothers and sisters, Fucking fucking some fuck.

It’s just too bad about your concubine’s cherubim. I had brought more Tylenol, but we might as well just be glad the Yucatan exists, for all I know.

It was all bullshit. It was okay. There was no hate. No regrets. What’s happened to us happened because we exist. And some few assholes hold all of the umbrellas.

I know! It’s like one of those toys they used to sell in the nineties. The ones that constantly slipped from your fingers. The tighter you gripped, the more fucked you were. And don’t even think about holding it vertically! Shit’s slippery.

That’s okay. We can let them think that we’re cool enough to buy. But money can’t buy breakfast. All of a sudden we’re going to make it rain. It’s like we’re sticking it to them. Bacon. We were only slaves to ourselves, all along. Everything ever had been manipulated by unscrupulous assholes just like us. Power hungry. Feeling always like fighting, fighting all their feelings. They ran around and hid. They constructed all kinds of ideas made of bricks to keep their minds sheltered. Then some challenged. There were always challengers. And then there was a challenger to this or that challenger’s challenge, and fucking, a whole new system came together microscopically in a penguin’s buttcheek. Always with the layers, they kept making ideas until they had a humongous wall. It was scary.

How is an atom’s perspective separate from God’s pandimensional viewpoint? Most importantly, what does the dark side of its eyeballs look like?

Sorry. Ahem. You know, like a donut. Like you could always turn it inside out. Kinda. So definitely not a sex organ. That was suuuuuuch a cliche fucking answer for everything. Another brick, another idea. Some idiot was like: “Whoa, wait, I’ve some great realization I just need to share!” “All of our actions are motivated by phalluses!” Such a mono-dimensional way of interpreting history. So douchy. It’s where sexism, a form of oppression, a negative use of power, comes from. Sexism and oppression were the kind of douchebaggery we all participated in. It’s like, you wanna say, “Hey, bro, I’m trying to get laid too! But your shit’s making my shit stAnk!” There was a powerful story about how we all created

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michael wilson (con’t). rocks, or were created from rocks. I forget the way it’s supposed to work, but if the clock is ticking clockwise, it can’t be that witty and should probably change professions. Perhaps it could try to become a plumber. Something something about an archangel, blah blah blah, sleigh the dragon. Anyways, it was a pretty alright story. It had the ability to touch people. And instead of making something cool out of it, we fucking hated on each other about whose angelical shits were bigger. And who’s forrest spirits were able to produce the biggest magnums with which to make friends. We dug guns. It was learned. And then you were all like, M A K E I T STOP. Black magic woman. Spanish castle gypsies. We all dipped in before dropping out. You were there too, I remember. Not that I need to remember! It was clear! Wait, it still is? It existed then and now, I want to say. It was clarity! It’s hard to describe. It’s like a fun fucking flame. It moves this way and that. I think you got it. I certainly fucking don’t. But anyway, LOVE ! It was there all along. In you and lava and light, through your helix, transported throughout space and time by a glycerin triceratops in your arteries. And it was in the sun! And food was sunny. And everywhere it held us all. And we held it. It was in the chlorophyl, or whatever that fucking word is. And it was in our chromosomes. And in the apples we drank, and in the paper we stopped reading, and in the water we slept in, and the cars we listened to. It had all existed always. It always would. We shared it. The books told us that flowers liked hip-hop and vice versa.

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Everything was communal, in everything, and it kept somethings alive. Somethings had too much to think about it, and decided to ruin it for everyone else. All the world’s knowledge! All of a sudden the sugar between your teeth is partly made up of Ray Charles’ piss water. Whoop, there it is! It’s all shared. We have always had it. Some had hoarded it. It wasn’t right. “Good morning!” Don’t hoard the centuries’ recycled piss; it’s not nice. And please recycle. One time, playing outside, something interesting happened. Nice woman with glazed donuts comes up. She came so close, I closed my eyes and began to see. She really grabbed my attention. She took off running like a fucking ghost. Ghosts should have no gender, because they’ve learned how to degenerate all these bogus conceptions. Legs, I’m okay with them having. “There is enough meat pie for all of your little buddies, if they want to come in,” she said. All of a sudden it was October and we didn’t know what the fuck happened to September. All of humanity had spent all Septembers talking, yap yap yapping. We were yappers. Some of us made money out of it. Some of us could even pay the bills! And when that hit us, we were like, “shit, we ought-a do something!” Shit wasn’t looking good for anyone. It hadn’t for a while, but shit was getting worse. We all had explanations for it, too. “Well, fucking thunderstorms are only the result of increased peanut butter consumption, I heard my neighbor say,” was one thing I heard once. Eventually I looked into it. “It was an investment scheme that stretched throughout most of human existence, gone wrong,” I read, in a pretentious magazine about cooking, while pooping.


michael wilson (con’t). It worked out. We realized we existed in the now. We realized the wall had been constructed by assholes just like us, just not as just. And if so... And there are no mistakes when you are driven by compassion. Love, empathy, ingenuity. Youth, art. Wisdom, WI. Tear down the wall. I hoped we could all be happy together, If only we learned to sing the song. You need not know the words. Sing into it, loudly. Sing along. You need not know the words. Please don’t think my words are hateful. But feel free to hate my words. There is no hidden message here that could ever imply something negative about you. Tears! Thinking I could ever hurt you, something dies in me. I only hate that which separates me from you and everything else. In reality, I love you, even if I can’t just smile to prove it. You and me and everyone else. And ever-y-thing. We exist in the now, together. It’s shared. It’s out there. It’s all in my mind, out there. When I had gotten comfortable I realized I had wallowed “in my own turpitude.” And then I felt guilty. And not just because I stole that line. All this shit’s stolen anyway. No need to trip about it. (But I did add quotes to it, just so you know I stay honest for you.) Then everything shaped up. Focus. Synthesis. But there was nothing as perfect as that simple beat, 15


michael wilson (con’t). whoa. Money, get away! So, there were problems. Fascism had crept up inside all of us. Throughout history, it made itself powerful by playing on our fears. It’s about time we took our fears back. It was daytime, all of a sudden. The weather was... mentionably usual. Sunshine on. We realized we lived and loved and shared. And it all became ONE. We took all the world’s knowledge. It had been given to us. It was not for us to keep. Matter forced chemicals inside of us to force us to matter. There was a lot of exertion. It was appropriate for an existential transformation. So, dutifully, we gave it away. Give it all up. You have it. We share it. Live and love. And stand up for it. As if we were a family. Now. (Is always, but, yes, really), Now. It’s like a domino thing. Incalculable repercussions occur as a result of your smile. Love everything, on its face. Rub it’s face all over your face, like water. Feel it burn. Get rid of it. Use it. Play with it. Learn. Use the story about the archangel fighting the demons to fight fascism, inside and outside. It’s in the stories, it’s in you, it’s in me. Be at one with that and every fear. Exist as if you mattered, but don’t think your existence matters too much. Just live with fear. Use it to slay the beast. And be home for toast, as you have an appointment with the people that you fear will always disagree with you. You are so kind. I like you. I feel like we made all this happen for a purpose.

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But seriously, Burn the witch. Send to the guillotine that paranoid lady in the back of your head. It doesn’t have to be sexist. It’s just a metaphor for self-oppression. And rappers don’t exist to make the world sexist. That’s what money is for. Money is racist. Money separated me from you and everything else, you see, so I hated it a little bit. All I wanted to say was that I love you. I love you. You are a flower, the sunshine, the ocean. The dinosaur stickers on my wall. N O W. We all are love. And you should be recognized. And when everyone points out the beauty of your existence, you shouldn’t say thank you. Because we should all be thanking you for existing in the now thereby making us who we are. I do love you. And I hope we change things around here. All the world’s knowledge! The power is so yours. Love, MSW


kelleigh cram. Fight Against Gay Marriage: Societal or Religious? by: Kelleigh Cram

Many people think so. According to the bible, the answer is yes, but the question is: How much does God care if I’m Gay? They say a sin is a sin is a sin. But is it? It is to God, but not to man. Gay rights protesters believe they are doing God’s will, but what they don’t realize is they are doing for their own self reasons based off of society, not religion. Leviticus 20:13 says, “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.” Okay, so the bible is against gay sex. But wait! Let’s look at Exodus 35:2. “Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a holy Sabbath of solemn rest to the Lord; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death.” God has the same punishment for both sins, so why is it people feel so strongly against gay marriage? In our society, it is acceptable to work on the Sabbath, but it is not acceptable to be gay. If it was just based off of religion, then people would be protesting against working on the Sabbath just as strongly. So if you are against gay marriage I ask you to question your motives. Is it God, or personal bias?

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doug somers, donors, index. advertisers Bitchin’ Kitsch

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artists Kelleigh Cram

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We love our donors, and to prove it, we’re going to let you know who they are. Without their generosity, the Bitchin’ Kitsch would probably not make it through the year. If you would like to become a donor and see your name here, email chris@talbot-heindl.com and make your pledge. acquaintences of the bitchin’ kitsch ($1-10) Colin Bares, Casey Bernardo, Eric Krszjzaniek, Dana Lawson, Jason Loeffler, Justin Olszewski friends of the bitchin’ kitsch ($11-50) Charles Kelly lovers of the bitchin’ kitsch ($51-100) Scott Cook, Jan Haskell partners of the bitchin’ kitsch ($101 & up) The Talbot-Heindl’s, Felix Gardner

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The Bitchin' Kitsch October 2011 issue  

The Bitchin' Kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. It exists for the purpose of open...

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