INTRODUCING: /\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^/\ \/ \/ /\ THE CHRONIC! /\ \/ \/ /\ Issue 1 Acting Supreme Editorial Mistress: /\ \/ January 2005 Absinthe \/ /\ /\ \/{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^-/\{}[]\/^*&#^\/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Introductory Attempt ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well, here we are...or I am, or something is, damned if I know what is here and what isn't. How can I introduce this thing to you reader/alien/parasite/symbonite. This vast audience can't be appeased in such sparse phrases. How can I even begin to come to a level that will give all that read some sort of momentary satisfaction, or dare I say it....bliss? Fuck that. These are words, and in the end that's all we have. This is your Supreme Editorial Misstress, and this is my domain. You like it, yey for you, if not you can go fuck a fire hose. Find yourself offended? These are words, and they're my own (with the exception of when they come from writers other than myself, but that's a technicality). So read and be pleased... or read and riot. The choice in the end, is yours. -Absinthe ps. Viva La Chronic! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /\/\/\/\/\/\ City of Soup Bradlyford \/\/\/\/\/\/ Gathering in the middle All partisans agree To split apart is to fall apart So standing on a great crack They built a city made of soup And each week held a conferance To discuss the ingredients Pouring soup down gutters Pouring gutters into oceans And the most secret ingrediant Was tons and tons of salt Stolen from the ocean And piled to the sky Till the ocean was a lake Of rather particular size and the crack became a mountain In a most peculiar fashion But the city built on the ass crack of earth Could not steal from it's mother with impunity As each resource drained The city fell Again near the calloused earth Each citizen would agree To split is to fall But just the same is to build /\/\/\/\/\ Composting Absinthe \/\/\/\/\/ The cycle continues As regurgitation remains Waiting for new fact Or differant fact Or some thing to let them think This is same Someday they shall take the words Sort them out into piles of various shapes and sizes And they shall recycle those that can be used Then hide the ones that cannot change For fear they'll resurface To threaten what is being built Those that are subject To fester and rot Shall be composted Making the earth rich With the lies Then there will be the task Of planting lilies, white roses, daisys So no one can see The perishables that remain Below the surface As a silent threat. ~~~~~ 1.5 Tales At Random ~~~~~ -Bradlyford and Absinthe- A Note From Absinthe: This is what happends when I lack additional contributors. I am forced to bestow upon you the readers the most unholy of things. The meeting of the minds of Bradlyford and I. You've been warned. 1 Planning each enlongnated second the minister chewed and spat out probably a third of the bible during christophes 13th christmas church service. Sighing in the sort of melodramatic angst only a new teenager is capable of, Christophe contemplated wether or not he could silence the minister in some way and claim self defence. A note: Upon completing this semi-paragraph, we came to the conclusion that this tale would only lead to yet anoter long winded rant about the essential stupidity of organized religion (participation leads to one's naughty bits turning black and falling off), and wandered off in pursuit of another tail. 2 The brightness of the lamp was truly too much for anyone to expect those with corneas to tolerate its vulgar glare; Mrs. Maritino would have to say something to the hippo about it. Yet Gergabow didn't react, much to Prof. Yellers surprise. Firm in the knowledge that the fair Maritino only felt the urge to complain due to some sort of inferiority complex, the professer felt Gergabow's lack of upset must be calculated in some way. But alas the garberator would not destroy the remaining papers of Dr. Thattly, Prof. Yellers' arch rival; he needed his research paper to be completely original. He hated writing biblieographies. The apparently irrelevant problem at hand though may offer some sort of resolution to the distruction of the papers he relalized with a jolt. "Of course", he murmerd to himself "the hippo...". Paying no heed to the irritating complaints she made, Yellers proceeded to lock Maritino in a conviently placed broom closet, and turned to face Gergabow. "Don't blink," he said, "you have fifteen minuts to read as much of this paper as you can, retain as much information as you can. It will be insenerated by this good hungry hippo!" "Duh....by this good hungry hippo do you happen to mean me?" Gergabow, who wasn't the most effective condom in the machine asked in bewilderment. Prof. Yellers ignored the comment and rushed into the dressing room to begin applying his makeup. "The show starts in twelve minutes!" somebody from the crew yelled. As Yellers primped, his agent Joe Kewl entered the room and went about preforming his best motivational speech about crackerjacks in the general direction of his clients' prosetic vagina. Nobody listened, they were all busy rehersing their dance. Gergabow became board with the paper she was reading and went the lavortories to masturbate. Gergabow's absence recieved no notice from the play's cast, though her wild and heatwarming journey and the ensuing earth shattering orgasm are very well documented in various Disney trilogies. ~ Fin ~ ______________________________________________________________________________________ / \ - The Chronic is always interested in submissions. Should you find yourself possessed - - with the urge to contribute a document of sorts, feel free to email Absinthe at - - eversoobviouslychronic@yahoo.com . Shee's interested in about anything. As long as it - - amuses her small mind to some extent she'll probably give it the nod. Length doesn't - - matter, due to the fact quality is bundles more important than quantity. The secret - - is not to let your mind be overrun by small demonic parasites, or to let a cow chew - - on your paper. Damnit I'm rambling. heehe Look at me go!......bored now. - - - - www.geocities.com/eversoobviouslychronnic - \______________________________________________________________________________________/ By the way, all this stuff belongs to the authors, and cannot be sold or stolen. Failure to comply with this simple request will result in Absinthe hunting you down wtih a chainsaw and her unholy rat army rat army of the night. Or maybe just suing you. Let's leave that one as a surprise.