September 1995
Caves & Cucumbers #11
September 1995
Copyright 1995, 1996 by Scoats. All rights reserved. Most wrongs unintentional. Scoats, 6235 Frankford Avenue, Philadelphia, PA 19135-3404, USA.
I started writing this issue back in March before my life imploded. It's not time to expand on that now. But don't worry, or maybe do worry, the destruction of my life will be grist for a future issue when the time is right. Much of that issue is already written, whether it will see the light of day remains to be seen. It's now August and after several months of total hell on Earth, I'm finally starting to get back in the groove. I received the latest issue of Volcano two days ago, and got the urge to publish again, but dismissed it because I didn't have anything to write about right now. Two things came to mind last night, and I started writing them this morning. As I was about the save the file, I saw I already had one called C&C11.WP6. So 1/2 of this issue is forgotten but not lost pre-implosion and the other 1/2 is post-implosion. Earlier this year, after a year of having to devote myself to learning and running a new business, I had started to get back into publishing. Before the implosion, I had cranked out two issues in two months and was working on a third. Now post-implosion I have the issue finished and hope to get back into the zine screen. I miss trading. There still is a mostly finished Toons From Hell which has been gathering dust for well over a year, maybe two. Hopefully I will get a chance to put that out soon.
I was pleasantly surpnsed when I rediscovered the Bitch Of the Month piece. It's cool when you look back on something you have forgotten you wrote and entertain yourself. That's the real reason why I put out C&C, I enjoy my own writing. If anyone else enjoys it, they are welcome to read it. That may sound egotistical, but it's more schitzo that ego. After I write something, I usually can't tell if I like it. I can only tell after some time has passed, usually at least three months. After three months it's as though I'm reaJing someone else's writing, and I am because after three months I've become a different person, even if only slightly different.
As always enjoy, if possible.
I received a letter the other week with a really cool stamp. Linda is a cool person so it was no surpnse that she uses cool stamps. Anyway, the USPS stamp had a drawing of the world in a bath tub. Clean the planet and stuff. I liked it, but upon giving it more thought I realized that they used the wrong bathoom fixture. This may even bcome my new logo. And it ties together perfectly with a new saying I came up with.
I was at the bar watching Wheel of Fortune. (Vanna was doing an especially good job of turning the letters that night). The phrase was "Life is like a box of chocolates". Being in my now constant sour mood, I came up with "Life is like a toilet; it's full of crap. Try not to get flushed." I like it; it works for me on several levels. It might become my new motto to go along with my new logo.
Ah, the chocolate donut, sometimes sinfully delicious perfection and a great way to begin a day, othertimes a major let down and a possible ill omen at the start of the day. I have had reverence for the perfect chocolate donut now for 18 of my 30 years (or a clean 60% of my life).
The perfect chocolate donut should have a beautiful golden brown skin. The skin should be a delicious alchemy of lard and dough. The cake inside should be light and airy. The perfection is it's crown of thick delectable very dark almost black chocolate. The perfect donut makes one say "Damn the fat, damn the calories, life is good (or at least tolerable)!"
Unfortunately this world often presents us with imperfect donuts. The cake is stale or too firm, the skin not greasy enough, or the ultimate let down light brown bland chocolate. Often imperfect donuts are truly imperfect and have more than just one flaw. As well as being deeply disappointed, one finds oneself with a dilemma. Should I eat this unsatisfying donut and the fatty calories that go with it or should I just chuck2 it and go without.
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David Brenner, so-called comedian, supposed Philadelphian, Atlantic City casino shiller and geek, really irntates me. First he is not at all funny. I have never heard him utter a funny thing ever. Second, part of his schtick is that he is a Philadelphian, soft pretzels with mustard, hah hah, Hoagies, ooo that's a knee slapper, and corner doo-wop groups (in my travels around Philadelphia, I have never encountered a corner doo-wop group), please stop, rny stomach hurts from laughing too much. He doesn't even live in Philadelphia, but in NYC and Montana. Actually I am glad that he doesn't live in Phila. In an seerningly selfless effort to make the world a better place a lot of show business has-beens, never-weres, and never-should-have-beens, like Yakov Schmirnoff and David Brenner have moved to Montana. I do not know why the untalented have migrated to Montana, But let's hope they stay there. Third, annoying commercials. Why the hell would anyone want him endorsing their product? I expect that he works cheap, He would have to, but there are plenty of other bargain basement celebrities that are at least mildly entertaining; Jessica "I gave Jim Bakker the best 30 seconds of his life" Hahn, Jeff my nude honeymoon photos made me a prison laughing stock" Gilooly Stone, Benson, Larry Storch, Tina Louise, Mario Como, any or all of the Fats of Life girls, and Kato Kaelin all come to mind. Benson could even sing their jingle. Fourth, David Brenner is really ugly. I use his casino print ads as my Halloween decorations, truly frieghtening.
The only time David Brenner is entertaining is when he is stealing his bastard son away from his ex-girlfriend and living on the lam. The only time I want to see him is on the back of a milk carton with an age progressed picture of his son Cole.
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