Date: Sun, 26 May 1996 18:04:09 +1000 Mime-Version: 1.0 To: (Recipient list suppressed) From: zarla@magna.com.au (Sam Bowring) Subject: Dead Pig Digest #35 Status: O X-Status: _ _ | |______| | | | Dead Pig Digest #36 | X X | | \ / | Dead Pig Thought For The Day: It's not whether | |oo| | you win or lose, it's how many injuries you | | -- | | can legitimately inflict on the other | \______/ | players. \----------/ In this issue: 1) The rest Editorial Well hello again there, beautiful and virtous subscribers to the great and wholesome Dead Pig Digest. Are you snugly gathered around and toasting marshmallows over the roaring computer interface again? Slowly dying from the cancerous rays that eminate from the back of your machinery and start by destroying your eyes? Not that they'll prove anything in court. Well good. Nice to have you here. So let us dispense with the freakish chat and speed onwards with the digest! --------------------------------------------------------------------------- /-----\ | o o | SNOUTLINE \-----/ now with real added goodness Good evening and welcome to Snoutline. I'm your host, Bruce the Dead Pig, and I am very pleased indeed to be able to categorize myself in that fashion. Yes, I am not just a pretty hunk of rotting animal carcass with bits dribbling out the sides. It often surprises the chicks that I have a mind behind my stunning good looks. But anyway, let us proceed with news this week: 1) An overcrowded ferry capsized during a routine voyage in Tazania, killing over 150 people. Isn't that 7 year old girl happy crashing planes? She's into ferries now as well! 2) Martin Bryant, that guy shot 35 "innocent" people appeared in court the other day to plead on one of his charges of murder. However, because of security reasons, instead of taking him to court, for the 90 second court appearance a $35,000 video hook up to the court was set up in the jail Bryant was staying at. In a seperate story Prime Minister Howard has axed several thousand public service jobs and is going to increase university charges in order to balance the budget? Gee Johnny, where does all the money go? Not on satellite hook ups? Worried some guy who's probably gonna die anyway is gonna have his paddywagon overturned on the way to court and brake his arm? Aw, diddums. 3) On my box of cornflakes it has a picture of a some cornflakes in bowl with milk and written under it has "serving suggestion". Well, thanks for your suggestion but most people actually prefer to have them on a plate with water. In a bowl with milk ... what a crazy idea, I never thought of that! 4) There are plans to build Sydney's second international airport at a site at Holsworthy if the original site of Badgery's Creek fails an environmental study. If the environmental report will be anything like the school reports of those WESTies, well the people at Holsworthy had better start insulating! 5) No one I know can drink 35 swimming pools of water. 6) For the Grand Opening of Planet Hollywood in Sydney, Americans have flown over from wherever it is they come from, and closed up most of the city streets so their dumb 'megastars' can be safe from psychotic Australian drivers who will no doubt try and run them over as soon as they see them. Sheesh, this is a city we run here, not a playground for paranoid movie stars from other countries. We aren't a nation of psychos, and as soon as I see the mayor, who authorised this, I'm going to blow their head off with a double barrel shotgun. 7) Nails, when applied to the head area, hurt. 8) No one I know can drink 35 swimming pools of water either. 9) There will be no number ten today. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- And now for a Dead Pig Religious Fable, called: GORDON 'A knife in the ribs can be a very unpleasant thing, Mr Gordon. As can be a knife in the stomach. Or in the intestinal tract, for that matter. In fact, I can not think of a single body area were a good knife would would be desirable. Can you?' Gordon's eyes narrowed a little wider and he tried to say something, but the strip of cloth tied around his head and stuffed into his mouth prevented him from doing this. He glared at his gloating captor, and attempted to breath snot out at him. 'Mr Gordon, I seriously advise you to comply with out wishes. I do not want to have to stick a knife into you. Actually, a knife in the callouses of your foot wouldn't hurt that much, because that's mostly dead skin down there. Hmm. Well, no matter. If I have to stick a knife in you, I assure you it will not be in the callouses at the bottom of your foot. So, obey the wishes of our organisation and you will not be harmed. I will expect you to have the money ready for us by whatever time is convenient to you. No, hang on, that's not right.' The dark man flicked on the lights of the speeding car and squinted at a small piece of paper, which was titled 'Orders'. He frowned, which kept many of his facial muscles busy, while the others relaxed and enjoyed the time off. 'Hmm,' frowned the man. 'According to my . . .' He referred to the paper again. '. . . orders . . . you have until five 'o clock in the p.m. on Friday next, before I will have to kill you. I hope you have the money ready, Mr Gordon. I truly do. I've never killed anyone before, and it really freaks me just thinking of it. So please be reasonable.' With that the man flung open the door of the speeding car and pushed Gordon out. Gordon fell out onto the sidewalk next to his house and rolled for a while before hitting a sleeping cat. The cat made a noise similar to the noise a cat makes just before it rips into the face of a man who has just rolled into it. A few minutes later Gordon staggered into his house. His wife, sick with worry, and the scurvy, ran to his side. 'Oh Gordon,' she cried, 'I was so worried about you. Why is your face bleeding like that? You know those slashes will probably scar you for life?' 'Excuse me a moment,' said Gordon, as he picked up a large cleaver and went outside. His wife listened nervously for a moment, and was startled as a sound similar to a cat being hacked up with a blunt kitchen instrument floated through the night air. Her husband appeared at the door again. 'They want to money by Friday,' he said, idly dropping the cleaver, covered with an unidentifiable strip of meat covered with ginger coloured hair, into the sink. 'Friday?' said his wife. 'Yes. Friday.' 'Okay. I'll write them a cheque.' 'Good. Good. That's a weight off my mind.' 'Yes. Now let me treat your cuts.' 'Okay.' Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It is very hard for a knock on the door not to happen suddenly. It's very hard to have a long, drawn out knock. 'I'll get it.' Gordon's wife, whose name by the way, is completely unimportant, went to the door and opened it up. On the doorstep stood their neighbour, Mrs Constance. She was holding a dripping cat's head in her hand. She looked very, very mad. 'Hello, Mrs Constance,' smiled Gordon's wife. 'Your husband has hacked up my cat with a cleaver,' said Mrs Constance. Gordon's wife looked at the cat's head. The cat had an expression of surprise on its face similar to the expression a cat would have on its face after waking up from a nap to find it was being chopped into pieces. Gordon's wife smiled again. 'Care to come if for a cup of tea?' 'I loved that cat,' said Mrs Constance. 'He was the only thing in my lonely life. He was my only joy, my only companion.' 'Good grief,' said Gordon's wife. 'You weren't fucking him were you?' Mrs Constance suddenly caught sight of Gordon standing quite obviously over near the sink. 'You bastard!' she screamed like a harpy. 'You'll pay for this!' She lunged at him. 'Gordon!' shouted Gordon's wife. 'Don't worry Gordon's wife,' said Gordon as he pulled back the trigger on a double gauge shotgun. Mrs Constance's head exploded into a mist of blood and flying red lumps. She fell forward on her knees and toppled slowly forwards. Gordon's wife looked at the puddle of thick blood spreading over the floor. 'Boy,' she said. 'If we had carpet, and I'd just steam cleaned it, I would be really pissed off.' 'Of course dear,' said Gordon. 'Now how about that cup of tea?' 'Good idea.' THE END Moral: A fable is sometimes just an excuse to write a violent story. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now Dead Pig takes a look into the music business and the recording industry with his weekly columnn ... ----------------------------------------- | Dead Pig takes a look into the music | | business and the recording industry | ----------------------------------------- 'the column with the really uncreative title' this week we take a look at... ___________________________________ | THE BEST OF BRITISH POP | |__________________________________| With the wave of British pop music sweeping the globe currently from artists such as Oasis, Blue, Pulp and Ash, it's really hard to find anything good about them or the "wave of trash" sweeping the globe, so I'll stop talking about this boring recycled music before it bores us all to death. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Community Service Announcement: DYLAN'S FLU CURE @@@@@@@@@@@ @@ O O | @ \ | __\ | /----| | | cough cough sneeze cough cough sneeze a-choo cough cough sneeze | \----| |-------/ With winter almost upon most folks in the southern hemisphere, it means that you will soon have a flu or cold which will be almost impossible to get rid of. Well, as my community service I will tell you how and how not to get rid of that annoying flu so you can get back to the stress of work, exams and deadlines and a cycle that never ends. Yes I want more work! Work is good! Stress is good! Ararararrarrara . . . Anyway, if you WANT to get rid of your flu (because you are stupid) I suggest drinking lots of orange juice and getting lots of rest away from work and avoiding bad stress. If you don't want to lose your cold (intelligent person) I suggest taking several cold showers followed by not sleeping, and eating only snot (preferably from other people). So avoid work and get sick! --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well, that nasty horrible old man who flashes his genetalia from his raincoat called 'Father Time' has caught up with us again, and so we say goodbye, and wish you a nice time. ALL KISS THE BUTTOCKS OF THE DEAD PIG! # The web page (http://gco.apana.org.au/~snrub/) has been down a lot lately because of reasons beyond our control, if you don't get through the first time try again in a couple of days/weeks/months/years. # You have until May 31st to win a T-shirt from the caption competition at http://gco.apana.org.au/~snrub/caption.html And while you're surfing the web check out Dylan's Debut online debut album entitled "Everything Two Dollar" at http://uuscss.cs.su.oz.au/~dylan_b/album/ and you can listen to fantastic funny 'music' by me. Web pages with back issues: HTTP://WWW.SAFARI.NET/~SKY (Dead pig shrine) http://erau.db.erau.edu/~byrnee/deadpig.html http://www.helsinki.fi/~jpackale/deadpig/ http://www.ludin.com.au/~nungan (digests have been HTMLed) This document is copyright 1996 Sam Bowring and Dylan Behan, except for the copyrights of letters sent in, which belong to their original authors. This document can be freely distributed if not altered. To subscribe to Dead Pig Digest, send mail to zarla@magna.com.au with the subject line SUBSCRIBE DEAD PIG. Secret message for the day: see above ------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you wish to join the Dead Pig Digest, an ezine full of demented giggles, bad taste and frequent violence, send mail to zarla@magna.com.au with the subject heading SUBSCRIBE DEAD PIG. If you don't want to join the Dead Pig Digest, an ezine full of demented giggles, bad taste and frequent violence, send mail to zarla@magna.com.au with the subject heading DON'T SUBSCRIBE DEAD PIG. However, we promise that if you do join, you won't regret it.* *Possibly untrue -------------------------------------------------------------------------