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Kokomo's ONLY                   ALL? NO!! ALL!! #2                Bad attitudes
'zine.  Hell,                     April 13, 1993 -                galore! Cynic
THERE'S a shock,                 October 2, 1993                  philosophy by
huh?                            The AARGH! Edition                the score!
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Distribution:

        This E-zine and all original contents are (c) 1993 RageBoy
        Publications, unless stated otherwise.

        This E-zine can be found as either ALL.x (x being the issue number)
        or ALLNOALL.00x, depending on your source.  If this file arrives
        at your domain by any other name, someone fucked with that file
        bigtime.

                       ***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER!***
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    The editors of and contributors to ALL? NO! ALL!! will NOT be held
  responsible for any misuse of the information within any issue of this
   E-zine.  All articles are intended for an INFORMATIONAL or HUMOROUS
                             purpose solely.

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Table of Contents:

2.01 .......... Editor's Notes
2.02 .......... Karl Marx and His Tips for Good Health
2.03 .......... Moo Cows
2.04 .......... Can't Get A Job
2.05 .......... Slam List
2.06 .......... Why?
2.07 .......... White Punks on Punk (Music reviews, news, the Shoes)
2.08 .......... I Am Joe's Spleen
2.09 .......... KMC Update
2.10 .......... In Defense of Shannen Doherty
2.11 .......... Pissing On the Third Rail
2.12 .......... Black Francis/Frank Black's Neighborhood
2.13 .......... Milo Aukerman's Corner
2.14 .......... Can You Ski? Pt. II:  The Revenge
2.15 .......... Have A Lovely Evening

STAFF:

               Matt Shaw:  chief editor/member of The KMC
               Netrunner:  contributor/member of The KMC
               Neuro    :  Indy correspondent/member of the KMC

-----------------------
2.01     Editor's Notes
-----------------------
        Yeah, yeah, yeah.  "So why did issue 2 take so long?"  Because I've
        been fucking busy the last few months.  Finding new tunes, calling
        BBSes (which are not, I repeat, NOT cyberspace in INDIANA, at least),
        and actually having a dating life which I have put aside in pursuit of
        misery and better-sounding music.  All the stuff I wrote when I was
        happy sounded like Paul Westerberg with brain damage, musically and
        lyrically.  So, said I, "Fuck that."

        I am somewhat ANTI-feminism, now.  I hate the term "politically
        correct".. if punk rock is supposed to be based on non-conformity, why
        do we all do the same thing?  And why do we even bother to call people
        like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and whatever new sellout from the underground
        "alternative"?  Call them SHIT.  That's what they are.  REAL punk rock
        was, is, and always will be underground.  That's where the changes are
        being made, where people are really different.  That's what pisses me
        off about even the watered-down "alternative" music becoming sold-out:
        because of shit like Lollapalooza, scores of rich white kids purchase
        tickets to this ripoff to see bands that they've never heard of but
        that it's "cool" to follow.  In addition, these brave, trailblazing
        "non-conformists" all wear identical flannel shirts in fucking 90
        degree heat.  It's all commercial.  Ministry is revered by millions of
        self-proclaimed "punks" world-wide.  "Oh, they're so original!" all
        these morons gush.  No FUCKING chance!  If you listen, really closely,
        to "Thieves", then go listen to "Live in A Hole" by Big Black... one
        of the main drumbeats are the same.  And "Live in A Hole" was recorded
        in 1983.  "NWO" from the big sellout album, _Psalm 69_, seemingly
        "borrowed" the guitar from parts of "Racer X" by.. guess who?  As Steve
        Albini himself said (_Pulse!_, June 1992, p. 120), "If you sampled one
        second off of _Atomizer_ or _Songs About Fucking_ and looped that one
        second for 45 minutes, you'd have a pretty good approximation of a
        Ministry record."  The shit that these "new revolutionaries" do their
        little dances to isn't even original.  No real surprise.

        Ah, who really gives a shit?  My point is: punk has become what it
        hates the most.  Everyone in the "scene" is a fucking CLONE.  This is
        why the supposed "scene" isn't my stomping ground at all.  Punk, in
        this "politically correct" era, should be the OPPOSITE.  It's
        fashionable to be PC, and true punk detests fashionability.  There is
        sufficient irony to choke a horse in the fact that the "grunge fashion"
        is actually being marketed as a fashion.

        Back to something I originally was going to say, before all THIS
        shit started:  I don't think women should go out of their way to
        act like delicate little flowers for men, but I don't think they
        should go and hate us all, either.  On the topic of feminism, I'm
        a moderate.  I'm male, and proud of it.  Only, sometimes, all
        these abusive assholes make me kind of wonder about whether I
        should be proud.  Men who abuse women in any way should be fucking
        shot.

        Okay.. I'm done with this rant.  I release you to enjoy the issue.

-----------------------------------------------
2.02     Karl Marx and His Tips for Good Health
-----------------------------------------------
        Greetings, comrades.  I am Karl Marx, and I must share with you the
        secrets of health that the imperialistic swine we call the bourgeoisie
        insist on keeping secrets.  I am here to answer your questions, so,
        comrades, fire away!

        Question: Dear Mr. Marx,
                       I am thirty pounds overweight.  How may I start to lose
                       weight?
                                        Signed, Black Francis/Frank Black

        Answer  : Dear Frank,
                       Well, first, you must RISE UP IN GLORIOUS REBELLION
                       AGAINST THE FASCIST DOMINATION OF THOSE WHO OWN PROPERTY
                       AND DENY YOU WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY YOURS!
                       Plus, you may want to start a proper exercise and diet
                       plan.  Consult your doctor if you need more details.

                                        Karl


        Question: Dear Father of Communism,
                       Why must we buy postage stamps?  We can make our
                       own.
                                       Rodney Anonymous

        Answer  : Dear Rodney,
                       Comrade, this question has no bearing at all on
                       health.  I suggest you contact your local post
                       office, or a Congressman.

                                       Karl

        (Karl can no longer continue, as we have just informed him that he has
         been dead for over a century.  Feeling unable to cope with this
         knowledge, he disintegrated.  We apologize for the inconvienience.
         - Ed.)

-----------------
2.03     Moo Cows
-----------------
        Why did I name this "Moo Cows"?  How ridiculous.  Anyway.
        Those who read the first issue may recognize our hostility and disgust
        toward the Pixies.  Let me clarify.

        The only album I really enjoy anymore is _Surfer Rosa_.  And no, it's
        not simply because of the producer, so shut your traps.  I do like the
        whole sound of the album, however, "Something Against You" and "Vamos"
        being my tracks of choice.  This had to have been the most UNHINGED
        album this band had ever released.  I also kind of liked the EP, _Come
        On Pilgrim_, but it was a bit too slow for me, exceptions being "Isla
        De Encanta" and "Nimrod's Son".  Kind of.

        So why did they break up?  Kim Deal reputedly got along with Black
        Francis as well as I get along with Tipper Gore.  By the way, what the
        fuck kind of name is "Tipper"?  I was going to go onto a whole
        branch-off, but decided to spare everybody.  Anyway.

        By the way, the main reason I got into the Pixies was because I thought
        Kim Deal was cute.  (yeah, yeah, yeah.. I was young and didn't pick
        bands for good reasons, fuck off)  She's getting married/is married
        to Jim Greer from SPIN (I think that's the SPINner).  I think the
        Breeders have a good run at being a good band.  I liked _Pod_, even
        though it's kind of Pixie-ish.  Wasn't as fond of _The Breeders'
        Last Splash_, however.  Weird enough to deserve my respect, but
        not appealing enough to get me to listen more than a couple times
        a year.

------------------------
2.04     Can't Get A Job
------------------------

        So.  I live in Hell.  Hell should, by all laws of nature, have
        vacancies in (relatively) cool places.  Nope.  All the record stores..
        taken.  So what's a poor boy to do?  Curl up and die, I guess..
        no.  Guess not.  Still here, which is good.  Still broke, which is
        not.  Oh, well, you take the good with the bad, I suppose.

        This is a list of jobs I was considering:

             * Working in one of the 2 semi-cool record stores here
             * Working for a computer store, but the only new one around
               here is run by a guy I can't fucking stand
             * Getting a programming job, only I don't know what the fuck
               I'm doing yet
             * Uma Thurman's love slave (doesn't pay $$, but would be
               loads of fun); shot out because she's apparently with De
               Niro
             * Translate songs that appear on "Latino MTV" and re-record
               them for regular MTV

        What do ya think?  Am I shooting too high?  Yeah?  Geez, no wonder
        the moon fell outta the sky and knocked me flat on my ass.

------------------
2.05     Slam List
------------------

        Ah!  My favorite part of the issue.  Wish everything bad upon these
        people/places/things.  AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

        My psychotic, possessive ex-girlfriend (c. Feb '93)
        My age-obsessed ex-girlfriend (c. Sept. '93)
        Frank Black
        Al Jourgensen
        Top 40 music
        "Alternative rock"
        Corporate rock (see directly above)
        Lyric thieves
        Anyone who hates moocows
        The Dead Milkmen (for slamming on Bob, Greg, and Grant)
        Tori Spelling (we need to hate a different 90210 personality)
        Shannen Doherty (No, we don't)
        Rev. W. Harris of Indianapolis
        R. Waples, the 6-foot dorsal fin at law
        All the TV stations in Indianapolis
        The FCC
        Beavis and Butt-head


-------------
2.06     Why?
-------------

        This is the question that you should ask yourself if you gave into
        physical cravings and simply fucked some slutbitch instead of a goddess
        that's totally devoted to you.  "Why?!"  Why waste your time getting
        some disease when you could be off looking for a Christina Applegate
        clone or maybe even Uma Thurman herself.. but wait, is she married?
        With the way Hollywood is anymore, would it matter?  Is she that
        devoted to Robert De Niro?

        Oh well.  I'm sorry, I'd write more on "Why?!" but I just lost my train
        of thought.  Didn't even blow its whistle.

----------------------------
2.07     White Punks on Punk
----------------------------

        Today, I stood in the local mall, pondering.  Why was I in the shrine
        of commerciality?  To buy clothes.  You know, dress shirts and shit
        like that, for job interviews (see 2.04).  Anyway...

        I noticed, as I watched all the worthless metalhead and
        jock/princess pieces of shit stride or slink by, that I had
        virtually nothing in common with anyone in that fucking mall.  And I
        was pleased.  I had managed, after a life of people trying to force me
        into one mold or another, to retain MY personality.

        But, for a laugh, I went into Musicland.  Home of processed shit-rock,
        nationwide.  So, I'm in music hell.. and I'm getting fucking depressed.
        Nothing off an indie label.  Unless, like a fucked-up bandwagoner,
        you consider Sire to be indie.  Nope.  Sire is an extension of Warner
        Bros.  Death to corporate rock!

        But here are some albums we enjoyed, that we bought in Indy.  Note that
        we reserve the right to review albums that are new to us, not
        necessarily new to the public.  Here goes:


        _75% Less Fat_ - Chris Mars
        -------------------------
        You know, it has been awhile since ish #1.. _Horseshoes and Hand
        Grenades_ was released just before #1 was.  And now, Mr. Mars has
        graced us with another aural document of talent.

        Okay... first thing:  A lot of the songs sound the same.  Worse so than
        _Horseshoes_.  But it's still pretty good.

        Second:  Same kind of music as the first album, basically.

        Third:  Not a lot to say about it, just... buy it.

                                               - released on Smash Records

        _Land Speed Record_ - Husker Du
        -------------------------------
        Excellent '81 (?) live document of the OTHER legendary Minneapolis
        band.  The atmosphere is pure rushed excitement, which almost entirely
        makes up for the fact that no one I've played it for can understand a
        fucking word anyone on it is saying.  Nor can I.  "Guns At My School"
        was the clearest song for me... "Do the Bee" was the easiest to hear
        for Brent (of the Spooners).

        Anyway.. the Huskers go from one song to the next, with barely a break.
        The album kicks off with the tension reliever "All Tensed Up".  No pun
        intended.  That song leads into "Don't Try to Call". and leads up to
        the end of side one, "Don't Have a Life".

        Side Two:  The churning "Bricklayer", into "Tired of Doing Things",
        all the way through to "Data Control", which ends the album.  Lyric to
        remember:  "Gilligan's Island/That's where I wanna be/I wanna fuck
        Ginger/and live in a palm tree." - "Gilligan's Island"

                                      - orig. Reflex Records, then SST Records


        _Everything Falls Apart_ - Husker Du
        ------------------------------------
        The band's first studio attempt shows considerable rage and talent.
        Bob Mould, the perpetual AYM, leads Grant Hart and Greg Norton
        through some of the loudest punk songs ever released.

        Included on this album is a somewhat intelligible version of
        "Bricklayer", and (Jesus CHRIST!!) a cover of Donovan's "Sunshine
        Superman".  The latter, of course, sounds better than the original..
        it's a world's difference between smoking pot (Donovan) and taking
        speed (guess who?).

        There are songs that foreshadow the band's future musical maturity:
        the title track is well-written (and well-screamed); "Gravity" has one
        of the best basslines Husker could have asked for; and "From the Gut"
        showed their diversity of style (Hart's militaristic snare being a
        majorly dominant instrument).  Lyric of the Day: "You don't like the
        way we look/Obnoxious/You don't like the way we talk/Obnoxious.." -
        "Obnoxious"

                               - orig. Reflex Records, then Rhino Records

--------------------------
2.08     I Am Joe's Spleen
--------------------------

        I am Joe's spleen.  And boy, is Joe pissed!  His liver isn't working
        properly because all the sad son-of-a-bitch does is sit around his
        house and drink!  Worthless fucker!  But anyway..

        Joe, when he still cared about his job, was a record producer.  Joe was
        a real asshole to his clients.  UNTIL... someone got pissed and taught
        Joe a lesson, with a bicycle pump and a length of rubber hose.  Then,
        after Joe got out of the hospital (giving me a well-needed vacation..
        producing gallons of blood very quickly is no easy task!), Joe began
        drinking.  He drank and drank and drank.  And smoked.

        Last night, I liberated myself from Joe's body.  I got a match, lit it,
        and stuck it in the half-empty bottle of Jack that Joe was still
        holding in his hand, even though he was passed out.  The flames laid
        the place down.. but I got away.

        Now.. I am Billy Ray's spleen.  Just wait till this worthless fucker
        starts bleeding and overworking me.. his achy breaky heart will be the
        least of his problems.  Long haired hilljack piece of motherfucking
        shit.  He can take his remaining three teeth and two I.Q. points and
        shove them up his achy breaky ass.  What a waste of flesh.

-------------------
2.09     KMC Update
-------------------

        We're still chugging along, all.  I'm (kind of) making a comeback
        with "Mark Of Cain", which is a good ol' slammin' style MOD.

        We now have achieved distribution again:  Dark Sun Distribution
        has kindly given us a copyright for all our material under its
        business license, and has taken charge of distribution.  (NOTE:
        We are now legitimate shareware authors!  yay)

        We have gained and lost a member, since the last issue.. the name
        shall remain unmentioned, to prevent boosting of his ego, but
        suffice it to say that the vote taken by the KMC regarding his
        dismissal was prompted by his alleged involvement in illegal
        activities, one of which was reputed to be hacking.  His reply to
        our dismissal was abusive and disrespectful towards the entire
        KMC, and myself especially, and claimed that he had quit two weeks
        prior to our notice.  I declined to reply, seeing as how a reply
        would have been quite useless and would have provoked another
        string of mindless garbage from our former associate.  (NOTE:  I
        wanted to reply, saying "You failed to report your voluntary
        termination of membership to any KMC member, therefore, the
        official statement will state that you were dismissed."  I'm such
        a smartass.  :) )

        Well, that's the update.  Greetings to Major Tom/Audioscape/Deus
        Lucifer, if his eyes should fall upon this.

--------------------------------------
2.10     In Defense Of Shannen Doherty
--------------------------------------

        Why attempt to defend someone that's undefensable?  I thought it
        would be cool to take an unpopular stance, but I've decided that I
        just cannot stand her anyway.

        What that whole paragraph means is that I have nothing to say in
        defense of Shannen Doherty.  Plain/simple.

----------------------------------
2.11     Pissing On The Third Rail
----------------------------------

        (Before I continue, let me clearly state that if you actually
        perform the action that the title of this section details, you
        will be a fried motherfucker.)

        Pissing on the third rail can be an enlightening experience.  Just
        ask Father Snee, of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion, Backwoods, IN:

        "Aye, boys, I've had my share of leaks on that fabled rail.  I've
        also been treated for the resulting burns.  But the one thing
        that's kept me from a painful electric death is my faith in God -"

        At this point, we had to cut Father Snee off.  We had forgotten
        his involvement with religion, so we went on a valiant search
        throughout Backwoods to look for someone else who had undergone a
        similar experience.  We found that very person in Jay Starr, who
        had attempted to break the local beer-drinking record of
        thirty-seven in one sitting:

        "Well, I.. I... no, sir, I didn't have no sex with your daughter!
        I swear!  Those pictures she has of her giving head ain't got me
        in 'em!  No way!"

        Apparently, Jay's sexual freedom (and slow witted bullshitting)
        was a product of his experience with the third rail.  An
        unfortunate side effect was his inability to stay focused on one
        topic of conversation.

        We do not advise any such usage of the third rail of a subway
        system, in any way, shape, or form.  Be wary, and just to be safe,
        don't go to any city that has a subway.

-------------------------------------------------
2.12     Black Francis/Frank Black's Neighborhood
-------------------------------------------------

        "Hello, kids.  Won't you be my neighbor?  Good.  Then give me back
        the guitar your daddy borrowed from me.
        "Are we getting along well?  Good!  I'm so happy, kids.  Do you
        know why Uncle Frank is so happy?"

        "NO, UNCLE FRANK!  WHY?"

        "Because Uncle Frank sold a lot of albums to gullible people who
        were expecting the Pixies Mark 2!  And it's not!  It's really a
        horrid piece of shit album!
        "Oops, kids!  Uncle Frank used a bad word!  And you know what that
        means.."

        "TIME FOR A CARTOON!"

        <pause for a Bitchy and Patchy cartoon>

        "Ah, wasn't that great, kids?"

        "SURE WAS, UNCLE FRANK!"

        "Ah, this gig is great.  Do you know why Uncle Frank does this?"

        <puzzled looks from the kids, one raises a wavering hand>

        "Yes, Johnny?"

        "Uh, Uncle Frank.. is it because you don't have any new material
        for the next album yet and you feel like your career is on the
        rocks?"

        "Wrong, Johnny.. and by the way, there's no Santa Claus.  Anyone
        else?"

        "Is it because you felt upstaged by Kim Deal and you still do, so
        you decided to host a kids show and make sure you could feel like
        you were bigger than somebody?"

        "No, Susie, and by the way, Madonna is bisexual.  Anyone at all?"

        "I know why, Uncle Frank."

        "Why, David?"

        "Because you're a better showman than a musician."

        <Frank looks at the kid with the death look, and then walks
        offstage muttering to himself>

        <David looks at the camera, and says> "Guess I was right."

-------------------------------------
2.13     Milo Aukerman's Neighborhood
-------------------------------------

        Dear ALL? NO! ALL!! Readers,

        Yes, 'tis that time again.  That time that I enlighten the readers
        of this electronic publication of the life beyond the Descendents,
        of life in Smalltown, USA.  Last time I wrote from Tupelo, now I'm
        living in Westfield, IN.  What a place.  A Dairy Queen right
        across the road from a Taco Bell, and right next to a US highway.
        I hang out at the DQ as much as I can, cause there's not a lot
        else to do here.  I sometimes drive the 20 or so miles to Indy to
        find cool music, but that's it.  Soon, it'll be time for me to
        move on, because this place is fucking boring.

        Oh, here's something of note.  I sit back on Friday nights, and
        watch people at the DQ.  One night, and I NEVER thought I'd see
        this in Indiana, I watched some chick give her date a handjob
        under the table, for all the world to see.  That's probably normal
        for teenage Indiana, but the out-of-the-ordinary factor was that
        her date was a girl, as well.  And you could tell they were both
        getting off on it, even without looking under the table, just
        looking at their faces.  There are some looks that are unique to
        sheer ecstacy (sp?).  The girl who was receiving put on a good
        show of normalcy by just eating her ice cream like nothing was
        happening.  So did the other girl, with her free hand.  I could
        see her squeezing her thighs together under the table, so she was
        getting hers, too.  The one getting fingered tensed up and then
        relaxed, and then her friend got off, as well.

        That just shocked me to death.  Never in Indiana, I thought.  And
        if so, not in a goddamn Dairy Queen.  Oh well.. their gain, and my
        free live sex show.  Ain't life grand?

                                               Aloha, all!
                                                  Milo

------------------------------------------
2.14     Can You Ski? Pt. II:  The Revenge
------------------------------------------

        This quiz won't help you determine if you can ski, but it will
        tell you approximately how fucked up we are.

        1)  If asked to, could you worship Geena Davis?

            a) Yes.
            b) No.
            c) I already do.
            d) I live under a rock, who is Geena Davis?

        2)  Would you attempt to piss Lee Ving off by voting for him for
            mayor of San Francisco?

            a) Well, Jello lost, why not?
            b) I'd like to see Sonny Bono leave Sacramento for SF.
            c) No, Clint Eastwood, all the way, man.
            d) Nah, try Pittsburgh.

        3)  Did your ancestors eat their dead?

            a)  Huh?!
            b)  With an order of fries.
            c)  These are potential BBS voting questions..
            d)  No, they didn't go in for bisexual necrophilia.

        Okay, maybe these questions mean even less than we thought..
        that's why there's so few.  Oh well.  Part I was better.

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2.15     Have A Lovely Evening
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        Well, I hope you liked this issue, as it was a joy for me to put
        together for six months or so.  God.. how could it have taken so
        fucking long?  Procrastination isn't good when you're running an
        E-zine..

        Anyway.  Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow.


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               Where did I put the Calamine lotion, anyway?
                   - one of the Coasters, in the 1950's

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