There's really no need even to have that picture, as that cover took like four seconds to make, slapping a picture of the guitarist from Exodus and Dusty Rhodes squeezing blood out of Ric Flair's forehead together. The back page of this magazine has a Polaroid of me, Boomer, and Ivan and Vladimir Koloff where Ivan claims he will be my best always friends, but I haven't heard from him in years. Fucker.
Anyways, two little excerpts from this one. First from the Final Note on the back page: "Anything you read here that you think is racist or violent, it's just a joke, I'm not like that. Anything you read that's sexist or homophobic, it's for real, I'm like that." Ah, how I've grown. Now I don't even hate women or fags.
And secondly, I figured this zine was some time in 1996, but I've obviously jumped full-steam onto the millenial fever tip at this point: "December 31, 1999 falls on a Friday. At midnight, it becomes the year 2000, countdown to Armageddon. A New World will be rising around this time, and this particular New Year's Eve promises people in the street tossing cheap sticks of dynamite at police cruisers. Don't worry about a hangover, the place you're employed at will likely be reduced to ashes come Monday morning. The rich will be herded like refugee Africans onto encampments where they will be given overly-chlorinated water and thrift store bags of bread. That weekend will be the biggest party ever known... drug abuses of all types, lootings of Wal-Mart Supercenters and ABC stores, rapes of private school girls, burnings of immaculate urban churches, all in the name of change. It doesn't really matter what, we'll just burn it all down and start over. New Year's Day will become Independence Day. The wild will run wild and the fake will run home to die with their parents." Haha, that shit's funny now, but I do think I'd like to have that last line on a t-shirt.
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