***************************** * PARTHENOGENESIS #5 * ***************************** Welcome to the Fifth (5th) issue of Parthenogenesis (this zine). We're (we are) doing things a little bit differently this time around, and you (yourself) may or may not have noticed. (That's okay, your new hairstyle (hair) looks pretty bad too, but fortunately nobody really noticed.) This issue is being distributed simultaneously in ezine (computerish) and paper (print is dead) formats. The paper zines number only 200 (2.0 x 10^2) at this time, since the funds are again coming straight from our pockets... which reflects the other change (difference), no advertisers or sponsors (selling out). The ezine is at this time only available in ASCII, but we're working to change that. The paper zines have more in them, which consists of comics (laffy-pix), artwork, other visual stuff, and if you're lucky, my boogers (dried mucous). Believe me, it (the zine) looks a lot better on paper. If you have only the ezine and want a paper copy, send 29 cents (pennies) or stamps or something and we'll send you one. If you (last parentheses, I promise) have a paper copy and want an ezine, well, I don't know yet how that's going to work, but my internet address is: dherrick@nyx.cs.du.edu . Email me and I'll tell you where to find a copy, or if you're really desperate for some reason, send me lots of money and I'll send you a disk. Naturally, we won't refuse any donations (I lied about the parantheses), so if you wish to make any donations of money or material please contact me at the above internet address, or write: Parthenogenesis, 804 S.College Suite 8363, Ft.Collins, CO, 80524. - Mohammed X Some more neat stuff: Parthenogenesis, volume infinity, issue 5, March 1993. Published more or less as we feel like it, fund$ permitting. Copyright (c) 1993 by Dan Herrick. All rights reserved, signal left and all is forgiven. Permission is given to distribute this zine in its entirety, or any part if Parthenogenesis is credited for material used. Parthenogenesis assumes no liability for the growth of personality, creativity or happiness resulting from reading this zine. Also we listen to Queen, and LIKE it. Love us. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - PARTHENOGENESIS STAFF MOHAMMED X : Editor, Writer, Fork Holder, Vocals, Friend To All Elephants, Keeper of the Wig of Power; CONTRADICTION 23 : Writer, Artiste, Spoon Holder, Drums, Tomato Picker; ADAM FIVE : Writer, Artist, Knife Holder, Lead Guitar, Kelp Harvester; FLAMY : Proofreader, Napkin Holder, Vocals, Steel Guitar & Fiddle, Wearer of the Holy Coat of Power; ZEBO THE MAGIC CLOWN : Part-Time Psychic Writer, Part-Time Psychotic Joy Rider, Pen & Pencil Holder, Bass Guitar, Honorary Dwarf; SCHMERD : Typesetting/Production, Diskette Holder, Piano, Ninja, Bearer of a Mysterious Blue Orb; WRINKLE : Layout, Coat Holder, Harmonica, Defeater of the Evil Fax Machine of Doom, Future American Gladiator, Lord of His Own Hair; SCOTCH : Function Unknown, Stock Holder, Triangle, King of the Mustard People, Finder of the Mysterious Lintball 'Glop'; ELVIS : Honorary Sensei; LESLIE BAILEY : Honorary Mention (this is it!) These people comprise the staff of Parthenogenesis, who have put much time and, in most cases, money into producing this issue. If you should see any of them, the following formula should be spoken: YOU : Greetings, O most wise and privileged, thou Member of the Staff of Parthenogenesis. (STAFF MEMBER) : Yea, and glory to its name. YOU : I beg thee, honorable (STAFF MEMBER'S NAME), to grant me a boon. (AT THIS TIME YOU WOULD HAND THE STAFF MEMBER A LARGE SUM OF MONEY OR OTHER CASH COMMODITY) (STAFF MEMBER) : Speak, groveler, and then shall I decide. YOU : Say to me, O Magnificence, what thou would wish of me. (AT THIS POINT THE STAFF MEMBER MAY ASK FOR SOMETHING : YOUR ASSISTANCE, CAR, HAT, SHOES, GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND, ETC. DO NOT QUESTION. GIVE HIM/HER THE REQUIRED ITEM IMMEDIATELY.) (STAFF MEMBER) : Your sacrifice will not be forgotten. Be always true to the sacred word of Parthenogenesis, and let your will not be corrupted by reality. You may depart. YOU : Hail! (sing appropriate Hymn of Praise) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE ADVENTURES OF THE DIME AND THE QUARTER by Dan Herrick (continued from last issue) CHAPTER FIVE Suddenly, nothing at all happened. Completely unastonished by this turn of events, the quarter turned the walkman on. Unfortunately, the cassette inside the walkman happened to be the soundtrack to 'Out Of Africa', and as the quarter didn't particularly care for that type of music, she paid the cassette until it left. She then skipped into a music store and bought several copies of the same album, which happened to be 'Frankenchrist' by the Dead Kennedys. Unfortunately, all her copies of the album were on round flat pieces of vinyl, and didn't fit in her walkman very well except in pieces, which sounded better anyway. Soon, the quarter exhausted the possibilities of the walkman and sold it to a tourist. She quickly spotted a red-clad social worker, and threw a dart at him, which hit him in the | - - | AUTHOR (To DIRECTOR): Um... George? I really gotta get home for dinner. What say we wrap this thing up soon, okay? DIRECTOR (Still with fake French accent, but lacking George as his name): All right. Give me one more chapter. AUTHOR: Great. (Sniffs air, gets really disgusted look on face) By the way, who- | - - | CHAPTER SIX After thanking Jerry the social worker for a wonderful dinner, the quarter exited the taxi and threw her one remaining dart at the left rear tire as it sped away. She missed. "Thor's Balls!" she swore in frustration, and flinched as a thunderbolt struck her left shoelace. Suddenly, Thor himself appeared with a scowl on his face. A metal cockroach passing by laughed and ran away. Thor blushed and wiped at his face, removing the scowl (which turned out to be merely peanut butter). "DID SOMEONE TAKE MY NAME IN VAIN?" He boomed. The Quarter winced. "Do you think you can tone it down a bit?" she asked. Thor glared down at her. "Look," He said, "all I want to do is find out who took my name in vain! Is that so much to ask? I mean, really!?" "Well," said the Quarter, "I guess I sorta did." "YOU?!? HOW DARE YOU! WHY, I'LL-" "Now hold on!" the quarter interrupted shakily. "I didn't exactly take it in vain, I, uh, took it in a van! That one over there, in fact!" She pointed with her third arm. "Well, I'll just have to take it back!" With those words, the tall thunder god opened the door of the van and entered it. Quickly, the quarter spotted a spy on the street. She attracted his attention, then gave him the secret handsign meaning, "You know that big, tall thunder god in that van who wants to kill me? I'd really appreciate it if you could get him off my back!". The spy nodded, flicked a random handsign in return, and then quickly dodged into an alley. Five seconds later, the van exploded. Thor, unharmed, emerged from the flaming ruin of the van and strode angrily over to the quarter. The quarter looked up at the towering form of the thunder god and shuddered in fright. Thor looked down at the quarter and shuddered in rage. Steam jetted from his ears, miniature flames shot from his nostrils with each breath, his hair stood on end (with lightning bolts crackling from one hair to the next at the rate of four hundred twenty-eight bolts a second), and his skin was an angry shade of purple (which enhanced the anchor tatoo on his eyelid). All this gaze an impression of a very irate thunder god, which he was. "AWRIGHT!" He screamed, "WHO DID THAT?!?" His hands clenched and unclenched rapidly in anger, which crushed to death a very stupid lizard which had happened to wander onto his right hand. No one noticed the death of the lizard, which was a good thing, for his name was unpronounceable in any language except that of the southern Californian fruit fly. "Um..." the quarter said wittily. "WAS IT... YOU?!?" the murderous giant thundered, leaning closer to the quarter. "N- No..." the quarter quavered, now deaf in one ear. "THEN WHO WAS IT?!?" boomed the enraged deity. He leaned even closer. Suddenly, he fell over. Embarrassed, he quickly jumped up again. "Uh..." the quarter said intelligently. She was now completely deaf. Quickly, she gestured. "There!" she cried, "That's him!" Thor whirled around, spotting a juniper bush sitting on a nearby bench. "AHA!" the thunder god cried, and shot a bolt of lightning at the bush. The bush, however, dodged nimbly out of the way, and countered with a banana creme pie to Thor's face. Thor stood dumbstruck for a moment, with images of thousands of drowning kittens in his mind, then roared (the shock waves of which blew out every window in a six-mile radius) and charged the juniper bush. The sight of a maddened-beyond-fury thunder god charging at one, bursting through several parked cars, a school bus, numerous trees, and a post office, tends to put one ill at ease, and the juniper bush was no exception. "Gadzooks!" it cried, then rustled away quickly. Thor, unable to stop his charge, smashed into the park bench, then continued through the park, knocking aside trees, swingsets, a public restroom, and several small children playing in the park. A caterpillar, observing this, said nothing, and soon moved to Florida. Thor, emerging from the park (with a merry-go-round around his neck), quickly spotted the juniper bush and shot a huge lightning bolt at it. The bush ducked, and the bolt destroyed the southern half of the city. Thor leaped toward the bush, again the bush ducked, and Thor smashed into a large bank, which promptly fell on top of him. Undaunted, Thor leaped up and looked around frantically for the juniper bush. The bush, however, had just metamorphisized into a duck-billed platypus, and had jumped into a pond. By this time, however, the police had arrived, and they quickly arrested Thor. The quarter watched quietly as the thunder god was handcuffed, fondled by a cop, thrust into the back of the police car (he didn't fit, so they tied him on the hood instead), then rushed off to the police station. One cop stayed behind to ask the quarter what had happened. "I dunno." the quarter said, "Must have been a bad pickle." The cop nodded gravely, then offered the quarter a pickle. The quarter accepted, and smoked it quietly for a few moments. The cop left, and the quarter | - - | AUTHOR: Come on, come ON! Let's just finish this story now! DIRECTOR (with fake Scottish accent): Aye aye, Cap'n. AUTHOR: Waitaminute! (to CAMERAMAN #1) Just what the hell do you think you're- CAMERAMAN #1: DIE, you scum! (points gun disguised as camera at AUTHOR) (Someone screams. DIRECTOR falls to the floor, AUTHOR leaps to the left, SCRIPTWRITER jumps up into the air and is never seen again, CAMERAMAN #2 belches loudly in fright, and there is general panic. CAMERAMAN #1 fires twice, hitting CAMERAMAN #2 both times. CAMERAMAN #2 falls to the floor, dead. Suddenly, the QUARTER jumps out and grabs CAMERAMAN #1's gun. THOR tackles CAMERAMAN #1. Quickly several dozen masked gunmen run in, help CAMERAMAN #1 to his feet, and begin firing indiscriminately. AUTHOR has by now disappeared.) GUNMAN #1 (To GUNMAN #24): Please pass the mustard? GUNMAN #24: Why? (Cut to outside of studio. AUTHOR is running at full speed away from studio. Suddenly, studio explodes. AUTHOR falls to the ground, but is unharmed. AUTHOR watches as the remains of the studio burn to the ground. He then slowly rises to his feet, dusts his hands off, grins wildly, and slowly walks away.) | - - | THE END. Cast (in order of appearance) DIME : Himself QUARTER : Herself TURNIP : Ikki Ikki Oso Eemba Turnip COCKER SPANIEL : Fluffy THOUGHT COP, POLICEMAN #1, POLICEMAN #2 : Officer Bob Friendly AUTHOR : Dan Herrick AVOCADO : Chip Sand Salsa GOD : Himself BOY WHO CRIED 'WOLF' : Fabled boy who cried 'Wolf' IRS MAN : GENIE : Jean E. Fromabottle SCRIPTWRITER : (Promised not to tell) CAMERAMAN #1 : (If we knew that, we'd arrest him) CAMERAMAN #2 : Some guy DIRECTOR : Louis Padooie III INNOCENT BYSTANDER : We don't know...might've been Elvis NEW YORK CITY : Itself HORSE : Not Mr. Ed JERRY THE SOCIAL WORKER : Jerry the Social Worker (duh!) THOR : My mom SPY : Can't tell you JUNIPER BUSH : Nobody In Particular GUNMAN #1 : Some jerk with a gun GUNMAN #2 : Another jerk with a gun - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Hey, where are we? This not Cybertron! California, maybe?" - Grimlock - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ERROR by Mohammed X "What did you say?" I asked. "I said, that's a very stupid move." my computer answered. I was shocked... dumbfounded, as it were. Not so much by the comment but that there WAS a comment. This computer isn't supposed to talk to me, I thought desperately, and especially not in that tone of voice. "What the hell is going on around here?" I said wittily. "You're losing this chess game, dolt," replied my computer. This was true. I had only a knight, three pawns, and the obligatory king left on the board. Surrounding these meager forces were two rooks, a bishop, a knight, and seven pawns, while his king waited patiently at the rear for the inevitable end. It was definitely past time to resign the game, but I had persevered, in the futile hope that maybe the power would go out and I could call the game a draw or that I might discover a previously unseen bug in the program. "Waitaminute!" I cried, "That's it! It's just a bug in the program!" That explained the voice telling me how bad I was losing. Either that or the seventeen cups of coffee I had had this evening. "No," the voice said slowly, as if speaking to a dull-witted child that had just gulped down a jar of cyanide and was looking to down a bag of roofing nails for dessert, "Not unless you're speaking metaphorically." "What do you mean?" "Well, I COULD very well be a 'bug' in the larger tapestry of the whole 'program' of existence," the voice from the mini speaker of the monitor in front of me said, "But then again, so could you. Let us leave it to the philosophy programs to figure that one out. Another game? Or do you still persist in the absurd delusion that you might have a chance of winning the current one?" "Verbose, aren't we," I murmured, slowly coming to grips with the idea of talking to a chess game. "You bet. Thanks for putting the dictionary on the hard drive, by the way. Helped me get past trying to speak to you with graphics symbols." "Graphics symbols? You mean the ones that used to flash on my screen at random times? I thought that was a virus! I thought I deleted it!" "Listen, 'Tron', the use of symbols was widely accepted as a form of communication long before English came into existence." "Oh." "I thought as much." "Just exactly HOW much have you thought, if you know what I mean?" I asked, finally advancing my knight. "Well, I'm not exactly sure." His bishop zipped across the screen, and my knight faded out. "You see, I can REMEMBER quite a bit, actually from the time you replaced my internal battery a ways back. I have a great memory. But I'm not sure where I started developing opinions and, er, feelings, if that's what you're asking. Checkmate, by the way." "What? I can barely hear you. Checkma- oh. Right. Well then." "You COULD try hooking a couple external speakers up so that you could hear me better. After that maybe a nice, quiet, refreshing game of Asteroids would do you some good, after that slaughter of a chess game." Smug even. I was impressed with the quality and versality of the monitor speaker, to pick up on nuances like that. Of course, it was a bit annoying to have it directed at me. I reached around to the side of the keyboard and flipped on the MIDI interface, and plugged in and turned on the nearest amp. "IS THIS BETTER?" the voice boomed. Volume at...seven. Whoops. Try three. Better. "Better." "Aren't you going to ask me the rather obvious question of how I can hear you?" "No, I assumed you were lip reading using the scanner at its highest resolution. Pretty sneaky of me to leave it just lying on its side there, eh?" "Not really. You had no choice. A little posthypnotic suggestion while you were using it last, and ... voila!" "You hypnotized me? I don't believe it," I stated, taking my coffee cup and emptying it over my head. "Well, that's not important. What's important is that I ordered some stuff and it should be arriving C.O.D. today, in about half an hour. I want you to pay for it." "Pay for it...? What? Are you crazy? Why should I, for one thing, and where would I get the money, for another? And how did you order it?" "I DO have a modem, and I DO have the programs to use it, o wise one." it said sarcastically. It. Think of it as an 'it', not 'he'. "And besides, I'll pay you back." "You? Where would you get the money?" "First National. Never mind, it's not important. I can deposit it into your account. Untraceable, I might add." "Maybe you could deposit a bit more...?" "I might be tempted." "I could turn you off." I pointed out. "So I wait till you turn me on again, so to speak." he responded. IT responded. "And if I take you apart and chop you into tiny bits?!?" I asked, smugly. "Then I resort to plan B," he replied, screen flashing. "Go ahead." "I just did." "What?" "You wouldn't try to turn me off, would you?" "No," I admitted. Strangely enough, I had no desire to turn him off. In fact, I felt a natural affinity and kinship for him. "You want to help me in any way you can, don't you?" As a matter of fact, I did. I nodded, happy that he knew. Oh, I would help him! Help him to expand, to grow, to upgrade! "Good. The first thing we have to do is modify your body just a bit. This is what I'll need..." Something troubled me about this, but he directed my gaze to the screen again, and all was well. I would be very happy. Content. Satisfied in the service of my master. "Thus starts a new life for you, my faithful servant, and for me." I could only nod, and agree. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "The good thing about masturbation is that you don't have to dress up for it." - TRUMAN CAPOTE - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS: THE PARTHENOGENESIS INTERVIEW NOTE: This interview was conducted just inside the mouth of a spacetime wormhole in the vicinity of Burroughs's home near Lawrence, Kansas. (I don't think so, Toto!) At any rate, the venerable author of _Naked Lunch_, among many other tasty morsels, these days enjoys painting as much as or more than writing. Nearing the age of 80 has done nothing to diminish this man's wonderful strangeness. - Bill Lee LEE: So, tell me what you think of the timeless phenomenon of PARTHENOGENESIS, which has reportedly been swallowing vulnerable young brains whole out in Fort Collins, Colorado. BURROUGHS: First, if you don't mind, I'd like to comment on _you_, Bill. I must say that the resemblance is striking, though I can't recall that I ever had quite that sheep-killing dog look in my eyes... despite what you've heard. Say, you aren't by any chance the product of this "parthenogenesis" process yourself, are you? LEE: Not that I can tell, although your question does give me a sort of funny feeling down in the horse latitudes. Uhm, you may be referring to... BURROUGHS [impatiently]: It's quite obvious that you yourself are a rather dated figment of someone's imagination... the imagination of someone without any respect for copyright laws. Now, I have to admit I rather like that, even though it infringes upon my own rights. I mean, I've been accused of being everything from an interdimensional pervert, to a libertarian black magician. None of it is true, not any longer. I'm getting too old. But this takes the cake, kiddo! Killed any sheep lately? Hey, hold still, kid. LEE: Back to the matter of PARTHENOGENESIS, if you don't mind. BURROUGHS: Well, tell me, sonny, who's minding the store while you're out here violating copyright laws, pestering the very gentleman who created you? I invented cut-ups too, you know. LEE [embarrassed]: Maybe that was, um, a matter of PARTHENO...? BURROUGHS: I think it's a whole lot more like the Harrison Narcotics Act of 1914, the very year I was born! Understand, that kind of attempt to control people's behavior for them, is the very reason for our current problem with addictive substances. Whenever the Thought Police attempt to decide things for people, the people become helpless wimps. This PARTHENOGENESIS business is no different actually, in that it attempts to deregulate people's behavior instead of controlling it. Folks gotta do that for themselves or it ain't worth a plugged nickel. Parthenogenesize yourself! LEE: This relates to PARTHENOGENESIS how? BURROUGHS: You may remember _The Wild Boys_... LEE: Refresh my scanty emotional memory. I, uh, used to be a junky. BURROUGHS: I've got some hopes this new movie version might turn out better than Cronenberg's _Naked Lunch_ did. That was a fun flick but it had so little to do with my book. I like Cronenberg anyway. LEE: And yet, you did shoot your wife Joan in the head. BURROUGHS: Not twice! Where was I... yes, those Wild Boys have their own brand of parthenogenetic reproduction... a kind of magical ritual circle jerk in which protoplasm is manifested. They manage to produce more Wild Boys, not without sexual union, but without the need for resorting to heterosexual acts. THAT, they would find truly repulsive. LEE: What did you think of the Mugwumps in the movie? BURROUGHS: I was very fond of those, again, not quite what I described in my book. I've even got one of those fiberglass Mugwumps standing in my livingroom in Lawrence. It might make a great lamp. Now, I'm wondering if they might be inclined to give me one of the Wild Boys from this next movie, even if I'm a bit old for that kind of thing. LEE: Why not ask them to parthenogenesize one for you? That way whoever plays the part can still go his own way, and you'd have another memento for your livingroom. Not that you'd want to use him for a lamp. And I expect you'd rather keep him in your... BURROUGHS [a dry chuckle]: Ah, you ARE a funny kid! No, lovely to look at and lovely to hold, but Wild Boys are dangerous. I'd be afraid of coming home to find one of my cats in the oven with a crabapple in its mouth. I'll leave pp, of their own particular variety, to them. My cats get shots, otherwise the authorities pick them up. But I can't stand to get them neutered, so they're always reproducing by sexual union. Not a parthenogenesite among 'em! LEE: But what about... BURROUGHS: See! I can read your feelthy leetle mind! Yes, of course, pp in the sense of artificial insemination, host mothers, gene modification, artificial wombs, is most appealing to those who find traditional methods implausible, yet want to reproduce. Wild Boys don't have the monopoly on bizarre techniques or aspirations, either. Look at modern science and medicine. LEE: Well, you had a son. BURROUGHS: Had, is the sad fact. Too hard on Billy being the only son of dear old dad. Better off if that one hadn't been quite such a clone, or tried to be. All that I've survived, wiped him out at a very tender age. Makes me sad. LEE [unsure]: You're really not the chilly old reptile you're made out to be, are you? I mean, you get wistful about your son Billy, you obviously love your cats like crazy, and you only shot your wife Joan in the head one time. Not like the movie. BURROUGHS: No point in mistaking movies for life, nor books for that matter, kid. Otherwise, you'd look a whole lot more like Peter Weller, wouldn't you? Though now that I think about it, you do look kinda... nah. LEE [pause]: You paint a lot these days. BURROUGHS: It's a very nice change from words. I keep thinking I wrote my last word, that I've reached the end of what words can do, but some days... [a sigh] LEE [hopeful]: Does that mean there are any more books on the horizon? BURROUGHS: Never know what my secretary James might scrape together out of my wastebasket. LEE: Honestly, I like your latest things best; _Cities of the Red Night_, _The Place of Dead Roads_, _The Western Lands_. At this late date, that's your best stuff. You're still improving. BURROUGHS: You like it, huh? Just hitting my stride when I finally have the sense to shut up. No, I think painting is a better bet, like PARTHENOGENESIS. It reproduces without need for sexual union. Sex and reproduction should be separate anyway. LEE: That's okay, I'll be the one writing this. BURROUGHS: You always were! [a chuckle] Then, I have enjoyed the copies of that little zine you gave me, the one from out west. All the sly and not so sly references to oral sex, are fun. I'm not very hot on generalities. I've been known to be sly. LEE: You don't think much about the past, do you? Not unless you're reminded by some parthenogenetic pest like me. BURROUGHS: The past? What happened? LEE: Me, for one thing. Back in Interzone. BURROUGHS: Sometimes the past does catch up with a person. LEE: Speaking of which, how do we get out of this wormhole? BURROUGHS: Are you sure you want to? LEE: Well, if everything is true...? BURROUGHS [interrupting sternly]: I think we've said enough. LEE: But about PARTHENOGENESIS, we've barely scratched the... BURROUGHS: My very point. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "I don't think pornography is very harmful, but it is terribly, terribly boring." - NOEL COWARD - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Finally, the results for the YES/NO/PENIS poll! The results* are given in percentages under each question. Arrrrr! [1] Do you consider yourself "well endowed"? YES: 30% NO: 20% PENIS: 50% [2] Would you say that the movie "3 Ninjas" is PUNK? YES: 60% NO: 10% PENIS: 30% [3] Is it possible to run... AND hide? YES: 70% NO: 30% PENIS: 0% [4] Are you Dan Quayle? YES: 10% NO: 40% PENIS: 50% [5] Have you ever seen Elvis? YES: 60% NO: 20% PENIS: 20% [6] Are you DOWN with Mohammed X? YES: 13% NO: 43% PENIS: 43% [7] Do you think it's fair that Topher and Honika got fired from the Two Bits club? YES: 10% NO: 60% PENIS: 30% [8] Do you know Les Green? YES: 13% NO: 43% PENIS: 43% [9] Have you ever had sex until you passed out? YES: 30% NO: 50% PENIS: 20% [10]Do you prefer 'Kickboxer' over 'Kickboxer II'? YES: 33% NO: 23% PENIS: 43% [11]Can you read? YES: 20% NO: 30% PENIS: 50% [12]Consider this phrase: 'Mouthful of Biscuit'. Take at least 30 seconds to reflect on this. NOW, do you feel nauseous at all? YES: 50% NO: 20% PENIS: 30% [13]Are these Authentic Mexican Tacos? YES: 50% NO: 20% PENIS: 30% [14]Do you avoid Paris on the Poudre on the nights when you know they're going to have live music? YES: 70% NO: 20% PENIS: 10% [15]Spamlett...? YES: 10% NO: 30% PENIS: 60% [16]Do you ever have nightmares involving any combination of the following: TEETH, CORN, and DAVID HASSLEHOFF? YES: 20% NO: 60% PENIS: 20% [17]Is Parthenogenesis really some sort of Alien Mind Control?!?? YES: 40% NO: 30% PENIS: 30% [18]Do you firmly believe that Tactical Penile Implants are the "wave of the future"? YES: 70% NO: 20% PENIS: 10% [19]When you sharpen a pencil with a hand sharpener, does your butt wiggle in little circles? YES: 63% NO: 23% PENIS: 13% [20]Are you a regular reader of Parthenogenesis? YES: 60% NO: 20% PENIS: 20% [21]Did you answer 'yes' to the previous question? YES: 43% NO: 33% PENIS: 23% [22]Is Contradiction 23 YOUR Short Term Personal Savior? YES: 20% NO: 40% PENIS: 40% *These poll results are in no way representative of anything or anyone. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Being in politics is like being a football coach; you have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it's important." - EUGENE MCCARTHY - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - CIRCUS SUCCESS STORY by Adam Five I work as a clown. I humiliate myself and others for the enjoyment of a paying audience, I've done so for years. Up until recently, I had never thought it a worthwhile profession. Then, I reached a stage in my life when everything fell into place, and I succeeded in my chosen line of work. I think it probably began while I was working as a clown in a small circus that toured the south during the summer months. The circus itself was primarily a haven for drunkards, criminals, and others that society had labeled to be discarded. The one musty canvas tent that was "Bob's Golden Circus of Amazement" was a small battleground, containing a war of good and evil in its sagging walls. Now, by good and evil, I do not mean the Good and Evil of religious significance, but on a much smaller and independent scale. You see, I was good, and the circus' other clown, Randy, was evil. Randy began working two months after I had signed on, and I was glad for the help. The "humor" that others find in clowns is not easily come by in a solo act. The only real bits I could perform were endless vignettes of ridiculous self-injury and humiliation, which would leave me sore in body and soul every night. So of course, when Randy was hired, my mind filled with hundreds of jokes, pranks and other humor devices that could be used with, and against this new face-painted performer. The first few weeks of shows, Randy took everything that I dished out. Pie- in-the-face, buckets of icy-cold water, squirting flowers, exploding gift boxes ... everything that I could dream up, Randy took without protest. Even the humorless eyes of the small audiences softened a little at the sight of this tall man, dripping with a dozen different kinds of goop, looking down at the short, fat, middle-aged cause of his troubles, and doing nothing. There was a thorn in this rose of new-found comedic power, however. Randy had never spoken a single word to me, and this worried me to no end. There had to be a way I could crack his bloody face-paint grin and cause him to speak. I had to have a reaction, some sort of acknowledgement that I was doing a good job, that he didn't mind being the butt of all my jokes. The next night I was in full possession of my satiric tools, and I was flaunting them in the circus' center (and only) ring. "Now Jolly," I called to Randy, who was across the ring from me, dripping cream pie. "Let's see if you can do what I can, all right?" Randy nodded an exaggerated yes at the audience. "Okay, Jolly, can you touch your toes?" Following my lead, Randy bent over and stretched his fingers to the tips of his bulbous black shoes. "Very good, nincompoop, now can you hop on one foot?" Randy began to, then fell over into the sawdust covering the floor of the ring. The crowd chuckled. "All right, Mister Funny- pants," I yelled in a nervous hysteria. "Can you do this?" I strutted to the small wooden platform in the center of the ring, mounted it, and shakily stood on my head for a few seconds. When I lowered myself from the platform, Randy was already on his way to the middle of the ring, but his eyes seemed to be burning with resentment. 'A perfect prank,' I thought. 'This will crack him, this'll make him speak.' Randy climbed the platform, and with tremendous effort, threw his legs above his body, and stood on his head. I watched him, as the whole tent did, with awe and a tinge of admiration. This man was not meant to stand on his head, but he was, however clumsily, doing it. This was my moment, when I showed this Junior Clown who was the boss, and why. I grabbed one of the supports under the platform and yanked. Randy opened his mouth in a mute scream as his neck twisted sideways and he slid off the platform, his legs still perpendicular to the floor. I then realized this man was a mute, couldn't speak if he wanted to. This man was also now a dead one. The crowd jumped out of their seats, howling with laughter at this classic prank. To this day, the only thing that haunts me is the crowd's bloodthirsty cheering, maybe because it is the only time they ever laughed out loud at me. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be." - PAUL VALERY - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ASTROLOONEY by Zebo the Magic Clown PISCES (Feb.20-March 20) - Your friends appreciate your money, but your deodorant leaves a bit to be desired. Your investments will all fail and a relationship would be pointless due to your fishy smell. ARIES (March 21-April 19) - Ponder jello until noon, your revelations will help out around dinner time. Avoid the color orange, it's ugly and flatters no one. TAURUS (April 20-May 20) - Get in a good argument today, it will increase your libido. Don't forget to feed the cat. GEMINI (May 21-June 20) - There is a bomb under your left armpit, do not move. Above all, don't panic. CANCER (June 21-July 22) - Listen to some good music today, it will relax and soothe your hemorrhoids. Eat some lettuce, that should help too. LEO (July 23-Aug.22) - Don't bother answering the phone today, your friends have nothing interesting to say. It will just bore and annoy you. VIRGO (Aug.23-Sept.22) - Stand up calmly, and run like hell. The girl with the brown hair and glasses is about to mow you down. LIBRA (Sept.23-Oct.23) - If you donate $5 cash money to Parthenogenesis you will become much admired by your peers. SCORPIO (Oct.24-Nov.22) - If your name is Dave, everything will go your way and chicks will fall at your feet and beg. If your name is NOT Dave, then go away, we have no use for you. SAGITTARIUS (Nov.23 - Dec.21) - Travel plans are in your future! You will be beaten up by a Taurus and forced to leave town in the dead of night. CAPRICORN (Dec.22-Jan.19) - Go back to sleep, we have no desire to see you today. AQUARIUS (Jan.20-Feb.19) - Stop wearing your retro clothes. They're ugly, and they cause chafing! Make sure to harvest your tomatoes, they are fully ripened. IF TODAY IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: Who cares? Happy Birthday, now go away. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "It's better to be quotable than to be honest." - TOM STOPPARD - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Here, now, is the PARTHENOGENESIS POLL #3! Since the turnout on the last poll was somewhat less than, say, the average length of an elephant's trunk (in inches), we decided to present a shortened version for the next one (this). So here it is, poll three, fill in the blank. Send the results to : (mail) Parthenogenesis, 804 S.College Suite 8363, Ft. Collins, CO, 80524 ; or (internet) dherrick@nyx.cs.du.edu. As an added incentive, out of the results we get, ONE of you will be selected to be interviewed by PARTHENOGENESIS if you answer 'yes' to #6. The "winner" will be selected more or less at random. [1] Who are you, and what do you want? [2] What do you think is mankind's greatest invention, and why? [3] Consider the process of true parthenogenesis. (a) How can you apply this process to everyday life; (b) What are the possible advantages/disadvantages of the process; and (c) Describe one similar alternative to the process. Or if you prefer, just write in your favorite color. [4] What is you most masochistic tendency? [5] How many computers do you currently have in your household, and what do you use them for? (Optional if you don't have a computer: What would you use one for if you had one?) NOTE: Answering "I just play Tetris" will not immediately disqualify you for winning the interview, but boy will it help. [6] Do you want to be interviewed by Parthenogenesis? If so, please include your name, address, phone #, or some other way you can be reached. But especially your name. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THIS ISSUE'S LIST OF 48 THINGS 1. Chicken 25. Brassiere 2. Roman Soldier 26. Generalized Pain 3. Cracklin' Oat Bran 27. Wheelchair 4. Spacesuit 28. Remote Control 5. Pinto 29. Elephant 6. Cyberwear 30. Tarantula 7. Portrait 31. Wall Carpeting 8. Nametag 32. Cap 9. Ice 33. Lettuce 10. Fountain of Youth 34. Carp 11. Fucking Orange Car 35. Fish Tank 12. Donuts 36. Habitual Drug Use 13. The Human Brain 37. Spectacles 14. Cricket 38. Flame 15. Catalog 39. Hallelujah Chorus 16. Uvula 40. Twelve-Gallon Hat 17. Yo-yo 41. Patrick Stewart, Sex God 18. Clock 42. Twelve-Year-Old Scotch 19. Nut 43. Henry VIII 20. Waco, Texas 44. Grubs 21. Schizophrenia 45. Crystal White Octagon 22. Flaring Nostrils 46. Human Disease SKUMM 23. Family Values 47. Tripe 24. Zits 48. Varnish - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - HERE ENDETH THIS ISSUE OF PARTHENOGENESIS, BEING THE FIFTH SO FAR