A letter from the Ed...
Dear Lazy Bastard Readers, This
xxx Letters to the Ed xxx Dear Ed,
While at the Magic Mushroom yesterday I picked up your publication and made the mistake of reading through it. I’m hoping this letter will have you reconsider your plans of ever releasing another issue of the Vent Daily. Never, in my life, have I felt as nauseas as I did reading the first sentences of your “so-called” commentary. To state the obvious grammatical errors and inconsistencies of each piece is moot, but I do feel it’s necessary to urge your writers to put their pencils down and quickly find the nearest highway to throw themselves upon. Frankly, I am dumfounded as to how you can continue living and breathing on this earth, with the knowledge that your writing is comparable to an aphasic 7-year-old suffering from cerebral palsy. I wouldn’t even use your publication to pick up my diarrhetic dog’s feces; much less recommend it to my worst of enemies. So please, on behalf of the human race and those with intellect, do not release anymore of your mind numbing, thought subduing, illiterate drool upon the American public. I was also wondering if you had any openings.
month has been quite trying. The Vent daily has taken a few blows, and not the good kind, but a good friend once said to me, “Ed, life doesn’t stop at gonorrhea.” So, I’m not gonna worry to much about my little magazine problems. I figure if my junk is still working properly and still the right color, then things are going pretty darn good. I will say that The Vent daily is now available at almost 50 different locations, including a couple in Alice a.k.a. don’t drink the vagina, and Kingsville a.k.a. blow your head of, it’s so boringville with more locations on the way, especially if the bureaucrats at TAMUCC can stop jerking me around for 5 minutes and realize tVd is a good thing for their campus. So enough complaining. Things that were good this month… Um, The Vent’s sketch comedy show Laughing at you, not with you will begin production soon. You can still watch the Vent TV (music video show) most weeks at 11:30 on Wednesdays and Fridays. The Vent’s official band, At the Playground will be playing all month in Corpus. Check them out at myspace.com/attheplayground, new recordings should be up by mid-month. JESUS THIS LETTER IS BORING! Once again it’s twenty minutes to the print deadline, and here I am trying to think of something clever to write. I may as well give you the standard warning/apology : Yes, there will be several Veronica Medina errors in our publication. We are using a.k.a. The Corpus Critic new software this month and I honestly (Resume available upon request) wouldn’t be surprised if a few pages end up blank.
Dear VM a.k.a. TCC We’re sorry, all openings have been That’s all I’ve got. Keep up the reading Corpus, I am happy filled by Mike Hawk.
to report that almost all of our stands were nearly empty toward the end of the month. Next step, drop us a motherf***ing line Dear Ed, I’m not afraid of cheese anymore and let us know what your thinking. since I found out how to tie my sleeve Love, the Ed
laces. Four golden stars equal a hand job and three pop-tarts. Momma says life is like a box of farts. I can catch chocolate people with my brain. Sincerely, I Think I Might Be Retarded Dear ITIMBR I wouldn’t worry, you sound like everyone else in C.C.
Dear Ed, I wanna thank the Vent for the write up in last months issue, also I wanted to say that you were
right about what you were saying the other night. After close reexamination I did realize that Eazy-E’s work after N.W.A. was arbitrary and even a bit goofy. I feel like such a markass-trick for having been such a big fan for the better part of the last two decades. You know youz my niggas. Joey “Got You” Gazin Dear J.G. For real nigga. Me, Stacy and O-Dog is gonna be chillin tonight at Katia’s crib. After that we’s gonna roll up on them KZTV punk-asses and see what’s up, so you best be there.
SEND LETTERS TO: VENTNATION@YAHOO.COM
The name is Cindy “Scabby” Storbeck and I’m supposed to welcome you to my advice thingy… so welcome. After being offered a hot pocket and a bi-weekly bath, I have agreed to share my many experiences in love, sex, and prostitution with you, the Vent readers. With 37 abortions, 2 divorces, 6 or 7 kids, a hysterectomy, and countless outbreaks of various STDs under my belt, I feel I am more than qualified to help those in need of love advice and support. So always remember, there isn’t a subject too filthy for ol’Scabby to touch. Since I have no letters for today, I wanted to share with the guys some of the proper ways to handle a lady. * Always be honest and upfront with a woman. If she asks you if you are a cop, tell the truth; lying will only hurt her trust and get your case thrown out. * Men should always pay for the night out. It doesn’t matter what activities were shared, pay her the money you owe and offer to drop her off where you picked her up. * Always clean up after yourself. We can all be clumsy and careless at times, but if you are “off your mark” you should clean it up. At the very least make the offer to help her, whether it’s with a towel, your shirt or even a sock; it’s the thought that counts. Next time, I’ll let the ladies in on some of my secret ways to please the average john. Now before I forget, or black out, or both, I’d like to urge all of my readers to send me their letters, emails, and/or any left over pseudo-ephedrine pills to me (as soon as possible). Thanks for reading my advice thingy, ‘cause lord knows I can’t. See ya in the alley. Dictated but not read. C.S.
H’s Guide to... Things That are Correctly Rated.
People are always saying that things are “overrated.” Great Expectations. Fish tacos. Splenda. Romantic canoe rides. But there are some things that are correctly rated. Things that are great and people know are great. These are some of these things.
When I was in the youth group at X Baptist Church, we were always told that “sex was overrated.” Of course, we were told this by older married youth leaders who had been having sex for more years than we had been in puberty. This sadly means one of two things: #1 – They were lying out their asses (and probably laughing about it in their sweat covered postcoital bliss) or #2 – They were really bad at sex and either not doing it right (“it won’t fit in your belly button, I
must be REALLY BIG honey!”), or doing it so poorly that it didn’t feel good. For anyone out there who has not had sex, I can assure you, it is correctly rated.
Some people say, “I don’t need to drink to have a good time.” Well neither do I. I just LIKE to drink to have a good time. Sometimes I have as much fun sitting outside of my office with my friends talking composition theory or laughing about the way George Bush says “nuclear.” Sometimes I have fun reading by myself or having sex (usually not by myself) or twirling in a circle in the front yard. But I don’t ever hear anyone say, “I don’t have to read to have fun,” or “I don’t have to talk comp theory to have fun.” That’s because it’s obvi-
ous. It is a WAY to have fun. Not the ONLY way. Plus drinking feels good. It just does.
trating the world. It makes you think that maybe everyone on earth won’t end up dead from being an idiot.
You get to have sex every day with your best friend and sometimes video games are involved afterward or Dave Barry books or Scrabble. Hello!? Need I type more?
It’s what all things are compared to. “This isn’t brain surgery,” someone will say. Well what about when it IS brain surgery. That’s gotta be something, right?
I hate children. Sometimes when they talk to me I want to ask them what the hell is wrong with them, but then I realize that there is nothing especially wrong with them but that they are three years old. But not my own children. I love them. Plus, it’s such a good feeling to see your spawn infil-
The Vent Daily’s Monthly Citizen Spotlight The Vent recently sat down for a beautiful dinner with Phil Dixon, one of Corpus Christi’s most cherished citizens. The following is the conversation that transpired. What happened after the dinner is none of your f***ing business. Don’t judge our love. TVd: What talk show host would you compare yourself to? Phil: That’s kind of an unfair question. I really consider myself a fringe element of the Horror Host group. It seems there are all sorts of guys and girls across the country doing what I do. They theme their shows by adopting some comedic monster or demon character. It requires a lot of work. Makeup. Set design. Scripts! I am too lazy for that. Even though I don’t stick with a one hundred percent horror line up and the scariest thing I have ever worn on set was my shorts they still let me into their club (www. horrorhostunderground.com) which flattered me.But as far as I know I am the only horror host not playing a horrific character. If I had to choose a talk show host I would pick Bardo Matrix. He deserved much more than his public access acclaim. By making his show so open to anyone and being so responsive and non-judgmental The Bardo Matrix Show was a landmark in local production. I doubt any town has ever had anything quite like TBMS. TVd: That’s correct. Favorite chill with Phil moment.... Phil: Never happens on the show. It’s when somebody recognizes me outside that environment and comes up and says hello. Watching Chill With Phil takes some effort. I mean there are way too many commercials, I flap my mouth way too much, it has second rate “design” and almost no pre-planning. It always surprises me that folks endure all the nonsense I throw at them to watch a movie. Granted I try to get stuff you won’t see anywhere else, a couple of films have never been shown anywhere before. And most everybody I speak always says that they watch for the movies. Can’t say as I blame them for that! My favorite episodes of Chill With Phil with always have something really different from the rest. The Prehis-
toric Puppets are everyone’s favorite, the fourth anniversary episode when director Clint Milby came to town JUST to do my show, the world premiere of Refuge of Last Resort (www.refugeoflastresort.net), when High Rise Hardy of The Harlem Globetrotters gave me an exclusive 20 minute interview, the live show where the Monster Truck Driver showed his tattooed ass and the radio show episode all stand out in my mind as memorable. tVd: Can my girlfriend and I do our paternity test on your show? But I’m telling you right now, I’m not the father. Phil: The test will be done in a lab but we will read the results on air.
tVd: That’s correct. Favorite film about snakes on a plane? Phil: That video of Cheney and Bush taken on Air Force one discussing the problems associated with FEMA. tVd: Good One. How do you explain allegations that you were involved In the death of Steve Irwin? Phil: The allegations stem from the fact that I speak the language of the Manta Ray and control them with my mental powers. That is well known. This Ray however acted of his own accord settling a long time score with the adventurer. tVd: I think you’re a lying bastard. Can you explain the questionable pictures of yourself and Sanjaya floating around on the interweb? Phil: I think they are self explanatory. tVd: Do you think men who drive little electric cars have huge c*cks? Phil: I have no idea. But I would say that it is a ideology we ought to get started. People who drive Hummers think they have endowment privileges. Let’s make electric cars the cars that the well proportioned drive. This will sell a lot of electric cars and decrease our dependency on oil by about 100%.
tVd: How does your name appear in the phone book? Phil: It appears as a group of letters, then a group of numbers and letters, then a space and then a group of numbers. tVd: That’s incorrect, It appears: Dixon, Phil What are your thoughts on the Bryan Smith alleged rape scandal? Phil: I heard about it like five seconds before this interview started and by the time this sees print much will have transpired so I am reluctant to comment but at this point my only possible thought could be “innocent until proven guilty”. I make a damned fine juror. tVd: Wrong, It’s “innocent until proven a minority” Have you ever been sexually assaulted by Bryan Smith, because I have. Phil: Your story sounds much more interesting than anything I might be able to add.
tVd: Do you have any black in ya? Phil:My great grand pappy was Creek Indian. That’s the only ethnicity I know of. My great aunt Mabel said there was some Polish Jew but it is indirect. The rest as far as I know is the Milquetoast Tribe from the Wonder Bread regions of Texas. Black coffee. I drink about 6 cups of strong black coffee a day. tVd: incorrect. The correct answer is: Only on the weekends. Now for the analogical part of the interview. Chill: with Phil :: chicks: with _____ Phil: the power to travel backwards in time. tVd: incorrect. chicks with d*icks vampires: blood :: Phil:______ Phil: black coffee tVd: That’s right. Anything you’d like to add: Phil: Visit fatpossum.blogpsot.com & www.ktov. com
The Vent Daily’s Monthly News
BK Readies “Have it HIS way” Campaign
“Jesus loves me this I know, for the BK King told me so.” Sings Joey Scott, 4.
for “wine of water”). All three items can be purchased in the all new Holy Trinity extra value meal. And for the kids, Burger King announces a new line-up for their BK Kid’s Club characters. They will now feature Jesus Christ and all 12 of his apostles for the boys and the Virgin Mary and 12 women of worship for the girls. Expect to see the “Burger King: Have It HIS Way” campaign in summer 2007, when it will be launched worldwide.(To this date, no word on whether Mary Magdalene will be included in the 12 women of worship characters.)
The Burger King & Pope Announce the new ‘Eggs Benedict on a Bun’
Aransas Pass, Texas – The Aransas Pass chapter of the Coalition of Obedient Christian Knights (C.O.C.K.) have retracted plans to relocate their headquarters to the building once known as Virginia’s Hole. “It’s just not going to work out”, says Richard Johnson, president of the chapter, “There’s too much work that needs to be done in order for us to even stick our head in.” C.O.C.K. recently lost some financial support and was forced to vacate their previous residence, Beaver’s Hall. It seemed moving into Virginia’s Hole was the perfect solution since the rent was low and the building was located on the beachfront. However, it is these same factors that ultimately contributed to C.O.C.K.’s final decision. “Yea, (Virginia’s Hole is) right on the beach, but that’s the reason it’s crawling with crabs and
stinks like fish. I mean, it’s obvious no one took care of this building. Just look at this bush, it needs a serious trimming”, commented Mr. Johnson. Among the various issues found with the site, the one of main concern is the mysterious electrical problem that shuts the building down for 7 days out of every month. ”It’s like clockwork”, says Johnson, “and we don’t have the time or the patience to deal with it.” C.O.C.K. is now in the process of looking for another place to lay its head, but according to Mr. Johnson, all hope is not lost. “If we can get some volunteers out here, we might be able to bang it out in no time. I would like to extend an invitation to those who can volunteer their time, to helping C.O.C.K. stay inside Virginia’s Hole.” For more information or to volunteer, go to www.cockforchrist.org.
MIAMI, FLORIDA – In a recent statement, BK publicist Ron Desmond announced, “Starting in June of 2007, Burger King will be replacing the classic “Burger King’s Crown” with the newly designed “King of King’s Crown”. When asked what the new crown will look like, Desmond replied, “We have replicated the crown of thorns Jesus Christ wore on the road to Golgotha and ultimately on his cross. We feel that by children shedding their own blood on these thorns, they will be thankful for Christ’s greatest gift to the world, the flamebroiled Whopper”. The new crown is the first step in a worldwide campaign BK and His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI created over weeks of meetings at the Vatican. “It is the Pope’s will to reach a broader and hungrier audience and what better way to do so than through the stomach of said audience”, says Desmond. The “Burger King: Have It HIS Way” campaign will feature new menu items, such as the Fellowship Fries, the Blood of the Lamburger, and W.O.W. Soda (W.O.W. standing
C.O.C.K. Pulls Out Of Virginia’s Hole
Age: 15 Ht: 5’ 10” Wt: 115 Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown Amber Industries is proud to alert Corpus Christi of hard working students in our community. If you would like to see your child in The Amber Alert, send a picture to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Parent Gives Child Something To Cry About... pg.17 Car Eats More Than Gas................................... pg.17 Blue Angel Pilot Commits Suicide After Visiting Corpus Christi............................ pg.17
A Brief History of Boys (Part 2)
Disclaimers: Not all guys will be mentioned in this series, (and certainly not all incidents.) Some of the names of the boys have been changed, but just to mix it up, some of the names are completely authentic. Better yet, which is which is going to be determined entirely by randomness. And whether or not I remember their names. My name will always stay the same though.
I was living in San Antonio my 5th grade year, and like most places I had gone to school, I was the new kid at I-don’t-remember-the-fuckingname Elementary. I was always the new kid, and it fucking sucked to be the new kid. All the other kids were the very bestest of friends, forever and ever amen, and they had no desire to befriend girls who did not have charm bracelets or hope chests or bright colored t-shirts with sleeves that inexplicably stayed rolled over exactly 3 times, creating a small perfect cuff. Of course I was awkward and weird and poor and wore hand-me-
down clothes from my 40-year-old aunt, and so the cards were stacked against me heavily. The only thing that would have made it worse was if I’d had glasses or braces, neither of which we could afford. I sat in the only chair that was available at the time when I enrolled. It was near the back corner, right in front of this kid named Gilbert who was heavy and always wore a rock band t-shirt and walked around with his shoe laces untied. I am not sure he ever tied them really. I had never seen them in a tied state. My very first day in class, he asked me for a pencil. I gave him one, but told him to make sure and give it back to me at the end of the day, which he did. He asked me for a pencil every single day after that, and gave it back at the end of the day. So basically I stored his pencil for him. I was like his secretary or his desk. When recess rolled around, other kids would play four square or jump rope or play hopscotch, but you had to know someone to have an “in”
on those games, and so I used to sit out under this tree instead and make flower jewelry. Gilbert used to just stand and watch the other kids play four square. He never got picked to play, he just watched. One day, he joined me under the tree and we got to talking. From then on, we spent every lunch and recess together. Soon, he was even inviting me over to his house after school. He had a Nintendo and he also had Legend of Zelda, and though I could not play very well (I am one of those people who moves her entire hand straight up into the air while pressing the jump button) I could remember where to go and what to do, and I could remember what people said too. In fact, lots of times, I had him just go around to different people in the game and see what they had to say. It was fun. We were great friends. I even stayed the night at his house (which was totally posh!) I stayed in a guest room that had a TV. At home I slept on a mattress on the floor, but at his
house, the bed was up off the floor and everything! One night, while I was curled up in my pajamas on the couch of the game room (a play room where the Nintendo was hooked up), Gilbert suddenly stopped playing Zelda and turned from his position on the floor near the couch to face me. He got up on his knees, leaned toward the couch, and with bright flushed cheeks asked, “Can I kiss you?” I was quiet for a minute and then I said, “No…I don’t know…I think that might get us in trouble.” He nodded his head and turned back around and started the game again. Actually, he didn’t seem too upset by my reaction. I still felt bad though. This was the first of many times that I would do something or react a certain way and feel bad about it afterward. I just knew I didn’t really want to kiss him. So I made up an excuse. Maybe if I had not liked him so much, I would have done it. He never mentioned it again. H. Dorn
Everything was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt by Mike Skinner
If I was a scientist from another galaxy who had been charged with conducting a study on the daily habits of the average human animal, the “Collector” would be my case study. Anyone who makes a conscience decision to dedicate a majority of their life chronicling the achievements of others deserves to be recognized as a scholar in their own right. People that collect things are often associated with “pack rats”, it is important to discern the obvious difference between these two very opposite groups of people. A pack rat will pile up random things, such as paper clips or twenty year old letters from Publisher’s Clearing House and then file them away in empty shoe boxes, only to become violently defensive when you suggest that they should be thrown out. The Collector, respectively, is the type of person who devotes a substantial part of their existence searching for true and unpolished examples of popular cultural. I believe that this personality type is best exemplified in the modern D.J. I’m not talking about guys who spin low volume house music at trendy downtown eateries. I’m referring to the mixers, the true breakers of the beat, the men and women who paint rhythm. They are constantly digging and searching and scouring through faded plastic milk crates and moldy cardboard boxes, desperately trying to find that one dust covered jewel. Perhaps an old Stax record with Booker T and the MG’s backing up Otis Redding or some Motown baseline un-
derneath the funkiest horn interlude known to man. A vinyl Mona Lisa waiting to be shown to the world. It’s an unspoken brotherhood, with rules and consequences that most people can’t understand. However, the world of collecting doesn’t belong solely to the dusty faced beat junkies. There are other treasures to dig for as well. It is with these same methods that I tirelessly pursue the elusive works of Kilgore Trout. Kilgore Trout was a writer of Science Fiction who was responsible for some of the most underrated work of his generation. This was due mostly to the fact that the bulk of his material was published in pornographic magazines. There is one supposed “super fan” that goes by Eliot Rosewater. Rosewater claims to be in possession o f
every piece of Trout literature ever published, but I have my doubts that this person actually exists. Kurt Vonnegut died recently and it would be irresponsible of me not to make an effort to help the reader understand the significance of his undeniable contribution to contemporary American literature. Vonnegut is the reason why I read books. He was Kurt Vonnegut 1922-2007 a humanist and a brutally honest social commentator by way that may or may not be witnessing a of Science Fiction. Like Phillip K. current upswing depending on which Dick except with a sense of humor critic’s opinion you prefer to wipe your ass with. In the book Bagombo and much better prose. I once attended a Vonnegut lecture Snuff Box, he lists the eight rules for and it was an odd, almost make-be- writing a short story. I cannot list lieve experience. He really was one them all for you due to the dreaded (or all) of his characters. On that day word count but I can tell you my two I realized that there are only two kinds favorites. of writers, the ones who make things up and the ones who can’t. Obvious- 1. Use the time of a total stranger in ly this is not a profound statement. such a way that he or she will not feel Anyone who actively reads fiction the time was wasted past the age of six can understand 2. (which is really rule 5) Start as this concept, but on that morning I close to the end as possible. felt like I had something in common with someone brilliant and Vonnegut dealt with death in a that gave me hope. It also gave strange, almost detached way. His me hate. I hated Kurt Vonnegut mother committed suicide on Mothfor writing the stories that I ers Day on 1944. In 1984, Vonnegut would never be able to write himself attempted suicide by using myself. In three short hours a combination of pills and alcohol. of loose discussion, he dis- The ensuing miscalculation promptsected my shortcomings in ed the always clever author to admit intricate detail. The first that he had “botched the job. He also five pages of anything smoked non-filtered cigarettes for he has ever written will the better part of his life. He liked to undoubtedly humble say that it was a “classy way to commy most loquacious mit suicide” effort. I accept this In the end though, Kurt Vonnegut fact with humility was just an old man who happened to fall down and bump his head and and honor. He was a master at die. I imagine that’s how he would the short story, a craft have probably ended the story.
Critic : Critique :: Elitist : Verbally Annihilate Fake Critics
“Corpus Christi Daily News” <email@example.com> Mon, 16 Apr 2007 15:46:19 -0500 How are you?
Tony, I was checking to see if everything was okay. I’ve been hearing through the grapevine that you have a beef with FYI and/or one of its writers. Is there something that I missed? Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. I know the last time we spoke, you needed some time away. We’re here if you ever want to come back. You are a great talent. Warmest Regards, Evonne FYI
Evonne, Salutations, it’s good to hear from you. I’m sorry you had to learn about this alleged “beef” the way you did… as we both know, sometimes the “grapevine” has its own agenda. My initial plan was to respond to the issue in question through The Vent Daily, as a one time commentary piece, but I think I will use this email as the end all response I was looking to produce. Now rest assure I have no beef with FYI or you (just writing that makes me giggle), my “issue” is with Veronica, the so-called “corpus critic”. Veronica is someone Billy and I met some time ago, when we were starting “Corpus Christi Daily News” and doing the “Vent TV”. She was nothing of a critic when we first got to know her; she just showed interest in helping write for our ‘zine and producing the show. To make a long story short, we ended up sharing with her the ‘zines we published in Kingsville, which included articles written by me, under the pen name Rob Gordon, who was the first incarnation of the L.E. Tust character I brought to FYI. See where I’m going with this? So after deciding not to work with her on our ‘zine project (due to her acts of flakiness), contact was lost...until “the corpus critic” appeared. The commentary she was posting on her page and the type of writing she was “creating” was damn near identical (in attitude, themes, and right down to phrases), to what I did in Kingsville and brought to FYI. As a matter of fact, she sent me an email through MySpace back in November saying my commentary was a “big step for Corpus Christi and a huge step for FYI”. So you can imagine my surprise when I see her writing for FYI as the “critic”, during my hiatus. I did send her email just to call her on it, but of course she will,
The Last of the Stash By L.E. Tust
(Former Staff Writer of FYI Magazine)
and did, deny it. I guess “borrowing” ideas is a lot easier, for some people, than trying to come up with original ideas for themselves… especially in this age of copy cats and formulas. Now I’m all for freedom of speech and being an overall asshole, but the fact that Veronica fancies herself a “critic” is what really chaps my ass. In the various commentaries of music I’ve had published, I never bothered to review or spotlight local music. The simple fact of the matter is Corpus Christi has very few “good” local bands… I’m sorry, but it’s the sad truth. So when I read these commentaries from “the critic” and rifled through the endless local band fliers on her page, I started to feel nauseas from all the ass-kissing Veronica does for Corpus Christi’s local bands and their music. It’s like being witness to a rookie porn star trying to f*ck her way to the gangbang record in her first ever scene! Okay… now that I’ve regained my composure from her nauseating “work”, I’m left with a couple of questions for Veronica and possibly for you Evonne (in regards to publishing her commentaries): 1. How can someone call themselves a “critic” if they NEVER critique the negative?? Are you telling my that every local band in Corpus Christi happens to have top notch musicians in their band, great stage presence, and well written original music and lyrics?? 2. For someone who claims to love and support the local scene, how can you NOT tell the local bands that suck, to give up or try again?? What kind of scene are we promoting here in Corpus Christi if
“barely mediocre” bands are being heralded by the local music “critic” as a band that “rocks”?? Now I know some people may respond with, “There’s nothing wrong with being supportive of every local band”, but would you be praising your daughter (who directly represents you), if no matter how hard she tried, she kept finishing last in every beauty pageant she entered? Perhaps a responsible and caring parent would say, “Beauty pageants may not be your thing “Mijita”, maybe you should try passing yourself off as a critic on the internet??” Anyway, my point is this; your opinion as a “critic” means nothing, if you don’t give a brutally honest and constructive critique, even if it means making someone cry or in this case, quit “making music”. Well I hope this email clears things up for you. Also Evonne, I never meant to not come back to FYI, it’s like I told you before… I just needed a break to catch my breath. But with your new addition to the staff, there is no room left for me, a guy who actually knows and cares about music. So in the end, there is no “beef” with you or FYI, I like you as a creative partner and I still believe in the magazine... but I can’t sit quietly and let a fraud fool you or your audience. Well, I wish you and FYI the best, you will always have my support...and as for Veronica, I hope someday she earns her “critic” title… even if it is self-applied. Warmest Regards, Tony (aka Rob Gordon aka L.E. Tust) www.myspace.com/letust
I Have A Problem With Death I have a problem with death. I am both fearless and terrified when confronted with it. The predicaments of my upbringing leave me with few other emotional options. My family is not what you would expect. We deal in death on a daily basis. I have absolutely no problem with death in a fiscal sense. Death has brought a generous amount of prosperity to my family. We have done well for over two generations and I’m fairly sure that we could continue to be prosperous, if only there were anyone left in my family with a remote interest in the business. The fact that my father believes he has the worlds most ignorant and ungrateful children may also have something to do with it. My father never had the option of being denied the position. He was brought home after his graduation from the University of Houston (Go Cougars!) to take his rightful place as the new face of Toombs Funeral Services. Would he have voluntarily chosen the path of Funeral Director/Business Owner as his calling in life? I’m not certain that he would have. I never met his father. He died before I was born. From what I understand, he was a no-nonsense type of man,
a Fifties man. He wanted to make my father hard. My father is different though. He has stacks of records in his garage that I jealously covet from the corner of my eye each time I go to visit him. In college, he played guitar and ate mescaline. He grew pot in the back yard of the house that I grew up in. Even today, if you look at his shelves close enough, you’ll find dusty piles of books about politics and Eastern religion and bad, self-actualizing poetry from the seventies. These are clues that help me understand who my father really is, or was anyway. I know he isn’t as tough as he lets on. I’d guess that things weren’t so terrible for him during the Regan Era either. He did take care of three kids and run his own business without the help of a wife, so I’m sure that life wasn’t all one big party but most of my memories seem to involve big parties. Although back then, I was just a kid who couldn’t make a decent pitcher of Margaritas so my memories are subjective at best. I’m losing focus. I found out this morning that a twenty-six year old kid died. Is it telling of my self-perception
by George Toombs that I consider someone who is in their twenties to be a kid? Do I still consider myself a kid? I hope not, or so. His name was Phillip J. Brooks and he died of an apparent drug overdose. He had a young wife and an even younger daughter. Even though he is gone, his child still has a heart condition. I suppose you would call this a “When it rains, it pours” scenario, but it is hard for me to empathize with a guy that couldn’t, or wouldn’t handle his consumption. I can’t recall ever meeting this person but apparently he was one of my sister’s best friends during her Junior High and High School years. I am a bad brother. This is not breaking news, just ask any of my other siblings. My sister and Brooks had lost touch over the past few years, as young people with their own children often will. By chance, he happened to be in town last month but he and my sister missed each other, as will often happen with people who are dealing with schedules that pertain to young children. My sister and I spoke a little too early this morning. It took me half a pot of coffee and two eggsover medium before I was ready
to lend a hand. She ran through a short list of friendly memories that carried no personal weight. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I was trying to be supportive. I was sparingly taking pulls off of a carafe of cold vodka and pomegranate (for the antioxidants) and doing my best to listen with an open heart but I couldn’t get my mind off of something that she had said earlier during our conversation. My sister had been trying to explain the lifestyle of her friend and she used two very distinct terms, one was “substance abuse issues” and the other was “liked to party”, she used both of these terms with the same vocal inflection. It was offsetting and pushed me towards and uncomfortable place. To anyone on the street, I could be considered as either one of these personality types. Is this what my sister secretly thinks of me? Am I the one who gets out of hand? I always thought it was my brother, or my dad. Apparently though, it’s me. Maybe the weed is just making me paranoid or maybe I need to dry out but for a spilt second I could have sworn she was talking about me.
Daddy’s Little Boy By Stella Starr
I’d finally finished my degree, and I was offered a job at a big law firm in town. The boss was a family friend who wanted to groom me to take the LSAT and get into a good law school. Very soon after I started, though, I realized that the métier was not for me. I screwed up a lot, and I started having panic attacks from the stress. I quit after about a year. Fast-forward about 6 months. I was at a new job I loved, making more money, and had lost about 10 pounds. One night I was strutting my bad-ass self across a dance floor when a tall gorgeous hunk of fresh meat appeared in front of me. “ H e y, baby, dance with me,” he said putting his arm around my waist. We bumped and grinded for a few songs. Then last call was announced, and I said, “Thanks, but I’ve got to find my friends.” “I’ll be waiting for you at the door,” he said, giving me that look young guys give girls when they want to look soulful and longing. He just looked delicious and very adorably drunk. “Why are you going to be waiting for me?” I asked coyly. “Why do you think?” I walked back to my pals at the bar, where they were finishing up their drinks, but something was nagging at the back of my mind: where had I seen this guy before? Mr. Adorable made good on his promise. “My friends are all trashed. Can you give me a ride?” I certainly can, lover. “I’m
So... What’s Your Sign? By Serena Cho and Cleo Soliz
sorry,” I said. “I’m not in my own car.” “Oh, we’ll take him wherever he wants to go,” piped up one of my girls, grinning at me. I sighed. “Okay, but tell me your name first. I refuse to ride in a car with a strange guy.” “My name is *******” Oh, lordy. The boss from hell. This was his son! “I know you.” I put my hand out. “I’m Stella, remember? From your dad’s office.” “Oh, shit, you work for my dad?” He started to laugh. “I used to.” It was decided that my friends would drive me back to my place, and I would drive the little heartbreaker home. Or not. So he said he was 21, but I knew he was 20, and I was… well, never mind. Numbers are numbers, but this kid knew what he was doing. It was sinfully delicious, doubly so knowing that I was screwing the boss’s son. I saw him again a couple of years later, at his sister’s wedding. He was as yummy as I’d remembered him. We greeted each other as old friends, but when I went up to the receiving line to congratulate the bride, she looked at me suspiciously. Did she know about my one-night stand with her little brother? I wondered how much of that night he remembered. I had been sober, so I remembered every detail. I still do.
Gemini Your ruling planet, Mercury, forms a positive union with optimistic Saturn mid-month. This allows you to see frustrating aspects of your life in a new light. No, you can’t change the ones you love; you just have to accept them, warts and all. Just make an appointment to get that new vaccine, and you’ll be good to go. Cancer The beginning of the month is fraught with sexual tension at work. That hot new prospect has everyone talking, but he only has eyes for you. So should you show him the love? Neptune and Saturn say, go for it. His wife is into threesomes. Leo The full moon on the second of the month prompts you to try something new in the bedroom. Your lover will not be disappointed, but we must warn you: go easy or you’ll have to call out the fire brigade to come and untangle you. Virgo The Taurus new moon in your house of higher learning makes you want to take up a new hobby or learn a new skill. While this may lead you to your local community college or the lovely island university, you could also contact Serena and Cleo at the Vent: we give lessons and free demonstrations.
your lover, and get some head, and things will smooth away. Sagittarius May 8th through the 11th bring great clarity to an issue that has been has been troubling you for a while. The answer, my friend, has been blowing in the wind, and it has been for some time. Capricorn Jupiter in trine with Saturn between the 5th and 7th clears the way for you to see the big picture. Or rather, your bum on the small screen during Sunday brunch with the folks. Remember to always label your home movies to avoid embarrassing displays. Aquarius Jupiter in retrograde provides opportunity to gain momentum, while all-wise Jupiter in trine with Saturn provides for serious introspection this month. Whatever the hell that means. Pisces A mind-expanding Mercury-Jupiter opposition toward the end of the month promises some incredible mental energy. You will be full of innovative ideas at work, and you’ll be able to solve some pesky dilemmas with no effort. Looks like the Prozac is finally kicking in.
Libra Your super nova days are the 11th through the 14th. At this time, frisky Venus will be at a 45-degree angle with hot-blooded Saturn, causing you to end up in a 180-degree angle with your next-door neighbor. Have fun.
Aries The Scorpio full moon on the 2nd points to a lot of activity on the home front. This means spring cleaning, emotionally and literally, plus lots of action between the sheets. Unfortunately, you’ll be doing most of the cleaning, while your hubby and his girlfriend will be getting the action.
Scorpio With stresses at work and home, it’s no wonder your emotions are bouncing around at the beginning of this month. Then with pushy Mars squaring off with Pluto on the 13th, things come to a head and threaten to come crashing down. Just relax, call
Taurus After a period of keeping your feelings hidden in an effort to keep the peace, bold Saturn and sexy Venus form a conglomeration in your house of relationships around the 11th. So now is the perfect time to say, “I want an orgasm, and I want it NOW!”