An Irregular Column
by Mykel Board
"No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people." --H.L. Mencken
"Even fewer went broke underestimating the intelligence of MRR readers" --Mykel Board
It's been more fun than a priest-filled meat-grinder. I mean these last couple of
years. But before I explain, follow me in a small zen exercise.
First, I undress. Take off the flannel shirt, the GWAR t- shirt, the army boots. One by one I let the clothes fall in a heap on the floor, next to the bed.
I peel off my sweat-soaked socks, drop my black jeans, pull down the black bikini underwear, stopping an instant to scratch.
I stand naked in the middle of the room. Sitting on the wooden floor. I pull in my legs. Concentrating on my own soul, I focusing my attention. I bundle my essence, the internal Mykel Board.
My soul gathers in my intestines with the gas from yesterdays baked beans. Gas and soul intertwining, my large intestine bloats. Pressing through my insides, the mixture slowly works its way anusward, up across and down that fat tube.
My essence concentrates pushing hard for release. I stand, take a few steps and then squat, keeping my holy hole just a few inches above the floor. My soul, my being, pleads to be freed from my body. I close my eyes and relax. No force, no tightening, just a softening sphincter.
A sacred fart and I'm outside, looking up at a tight brown star.
I'm etherial. Just gas floating on the floor. First beneath, now I'm to the side, of the naked body that the world thinks of as Mykel Board. Freed from that body, I can write about him from the outside. I can use HIM instead of ME. "Mykel" instead of "I."
I've preformed this gaseous literary trick to allow me to step outside myself and talk
about myself as if I were someone else. I am.
"How about Mongolia?" asks George in front of CBs, "You go to the punk clubs there?"
"There were no punk clubs there," Mykel answers, smiling.
"Whatsamatter, don't you read?"
Somehow the smile doesn't fit the question, but George has known Mykel long enough not to ask about "fitting." But he wonders.
It's the Continental. Big show: The Candy Snatchers, Dirt Cheap, and The Sea Monkeys. Dave, from The Sea Monkeys comes over to Mykel.
"A lot has changed since you were in Mongolia," he says. "I bet it's tough getting used to the new New York."
"Not nearly as touch as you'd guess." Mykel smiles as if amused by a joke only he is in on. Dave wonders.
Others have been wondering too. Most of you have not. You've been too busy complaining about the fire to notice the smell of smoke. But let's examine this more carefully. Check out the reality. The one you missed.
There's been a change in Mykel, at least in his columns, since he returned from Mongolia. Remember the hyper-patriotic, racist-defending, kid-loving, super individualistic Mykel of yesteryear? Remember the rabid macho-man, the fuck anything-that- moves guy? The one who'd do, but never get done?
Let's look at some of his post-Mongolia columns. How do they compare with the Mykel we've grown to know and hate these many years?
Soon after his "trip," Mykel comes back with a hilarious anti-piercing column. It puts modern punks, the emo-kids, the new guard in their place. That place is much lower than older original punks. This from Mykel who is so supportive of kids' rights that's he's called a pedophile? This from the same guy who writes about how old farts insist on keeping things the same? How old punks are as conservative as old baseball fans? Something's not right here.
In MRR 170, Mykel tirades against racism. He says: The entire concept of "White Pride" becomes ridiculous. What's there to be proud of? The "white race" has accomplished nothing in history. This from the guy who walked into Gilman Street wearing a SKREWDRIVER t-shirt?
In the very next issue, Mr. Macho says, "You cannot be a man until you've been fucked in the ass." Does that sound like the same guy who's spent his entire career telling other people to bend over?
In 172, he parodies the anti-smoking hysteria with a column on biking. Has Mykel ever smoked? (No.) Has there been one MRR celebrity who is a notorious smoker? You betcha! And does this guy own a bike-- or a car? Ten points if you guessed the gas guzzler. Are you beginning to get it yet?
Let's continue; In 173, Mykel writes: McDonalds are everywhere. So are Burger King and all other kinds of standardization. In fact, one European city is getting to look like another. The same thing has long ago happened in the US Midwest and is now happening in New York.
(It's probably illegal to advocate going into STARBUCKS or BARNES AND NOBLES with an uzi, so I won't. But if it weren't...)
That's practically revolutionary!! A totally anti-capitalist statement from Mr. Capitalism personified. Something is strange, isn't it?
In 175, Mykel delivers a diatribe about ageism and how bad it is to mistreat the elderly. Sure Mykel is getting up there. He should be around 50 or so. But there IS someone older than he is with more at stake in the elderly sweepstakes. Can you guess who?
In 176, Mykel again practically tells his readers to steal books from Barnes and Nobles and then sell 'em at a discount.
The list goes on. But you get the picture. The post-Mongolia Mykel is not the pre-Mongolia Mykel. There's still the self- righteous asshole. The sex-obsessed Jew. But his attitude is different. It's as if he had a political transplant to go with his hair transplant. Well, not quite.
Let's hold the questions and return to the gaseous mass hovering on the floor of Mykel's apartment. That is... me.
I'm going to transport myself now. Seep under the door, down the elevator shaft, out into the New York City streets. I'm going to fly across the country, fighting the jet stream until I enter a large house behind a smaller house in San Francisco.
There, typing feverishly in front of a MacIntosh (a machine as foreign to Mykel as... as... well, as Mongolia), is the editor-now-co-editor of this zine. I'll hover here for a moment.
He's sniffing the air, sensing my presence. Now's my chance.
Excuse me while I slip into someone more comfortable.
POW! This is Timmy here, writing for myself. I can shit out that Mykel-style gaseous literary device and just write. Unless you're even dumber than I assumed, you probably figured it out anyway. Yeah, it's me. I've really been the one writing this column. I've been doing it ever since Mykel "left for Mongolia." But the story is more complicated than that:
It's 1994. Tired of his Rush Limbaughitude, I give Jeff Bale an ultimatum: Shut up with this pro-Republican shit. Just write about music, or pack your bags and hit the road. Bale bales.
Larry Livermore latter quits in protest. Soon after, I get a call from Mykel.
"Yo Tim," he says, "I got a problem."
"You mean the Bale thing?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says, "I mean, I'm completely with the guy on the free speech thing and I think he's really getting a raw deal..."
"So you wanna quit, huh Mykel?" I ask.
"Not exactly," I say. "Ya see. The thing about my column is that it gets me laid."
"So it's a choice between your principles or your penis, huh Mykel?" I say.
"You know me better than that," he tells me.
"Sure I do," I say, "That means you'll keep writing."
"Yeah," he says, "I need to exercise those four inches of power. But I feel like such a traitor."
"Well then," I tell him, "why don't you quit-- only don't tell anyone. Let me write your column. We'll work out some weird story to subtly change your point of view. Readers won't notice.
Keep doing the endnotes for credibility. No one will be the wiser."
"But my style," he whines, "you can't write like I do."
"I can't?" I tell him, "Watch: I WAS MADDER THAN a feminist in a men's room. How about: It was more fun than a priest-filled meat-grinder. Right buckaroos?... See it's easy."
"Okay," he says, "but what's going to be the cover. Maybe I could go on a trip or something. I was already in Japan. Maybe they'll believe that I went back. Or we could try something different. Outer Mongolia or something."
"That's it," I answer. "You go off to Outer Mongolia.
That'll explain the changes."
"Come on Tim," he says, "I was just joking. I don't even know where Outer Mongolia is! Nobody's gonna believe I actually went there."
"You come on!" I say, "Remember who you're dealing with. MRR readers. They'll believe anything!"
And that's what happened. We spread the word that Mykel was in Mongolia. I took over the column and made up those Mongolian stories of "cultural diversity."
Yea right, the biggest culture diversity I've had in the last twenty years was the difference between Noe Valley and The Mission. Cultural diversity my T-cells!
Anyway, by the time Mykel "came back," I was in control; comfortable with the style, and on the way to spread my own ideas, giving them the legitimacy of Mykel's sex and scatology.
He gets laid. I get your mind.
Why am I telling you this now? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because Mykel's been getting laid more than me these days. Maybe it's to show you what idiots you've been these past years-- and always. Maybe it's a wake-up call to think more critically and not swallow what you see printed on newsprint. But whatever it is, buckaroos, the cat's out of the bag now... and there's no going back.
Now, here's THE REAL Mykel's ENDNOTES. Remember, he had no idea what I was going to write before he sent 'em to me:
--> Seasons Card's returned dept: Claire from Spring Texas (the girl who sent me the S&M sculpture.)... The post office returned this year's card. I just wonder if you're still alive. Please write!
--> Yahoo punks dept: There's a new punk rock search engine at: http://supernaut.nws.net/~bill/search/index.html If you don't know what a search engine is, well, what can I say.
--> Anti-Freedom Action dept. I stupidly gave $5 to these guys at an ABC-NO RIO
benefit for them. I should have guessed something was up when I heard the chant raise from
the baldies, "Marx, Lenin, Trotsky, Mao!" and nothing to rhyme with it.
I wonder why they forgot their real inspiration and Mao's idol, Stalin.
Who'm I talking about? The skinhead ANTI-RACIST ACTION group, that's who. They're now leading the fight against free speech in New York. Among the newest targets is the zine store See Hear.
In a recent leaflet they state "Freedom of speech for Nazis threatens freedom for everyone."
When I challenged them on this, they answered "If the Nazis take over, you'll be the first to go up against the wall..."
Fuck, if the ARA takes over I'll be the first to go up against the wall. So it's in my best interest to keep BOTH totalitarian viewpoints in the public eye. Let people can see how similar they are.
If you want to give the ARA your opinion. You can email them at email@example.com.
--> Lou Galluch wrote me from jail. He's lonely and wants to talk/write about punkrock. Write to him: DE 1806, 1600 Walters Mill Rd., Somerset PA 15510.
--> These girls should join the ARA dept: Associated Press reports that MTV has
stopped airing a music video by the band Prodigy. It was called "Smack My Bitch
According to the AP, the video shows "women being hit and injected with drugs."
According to people who saw the video, that is a lie. But since it's the American press, that's to be expected.
In any case, the National Organization for Women thanked MTV "for its early Christmas gift to young women and girls"
But an MTV spokeswoman said they planned Monday's cancellation from the start. Sheryl Jones, vice president of MTV Communications, said the video ran for one week on the network, always between the hours of 1 a.m and 5 a.m. and was accompanied by a warning and a news report on the lyrics controversy.
On Thursday, feminists led by Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan protested the song in front of Time Warner's corporate offices in midtown Manhattan. They said it promoted violence against women. The song was released by Warner Bros. Records.
--> See, there are good laws dept: Police in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho can't walk up and
knock on the window of any rocking parked car.
A cop who thinks that sex is taking place must drive up from behind, honk his horn three times and wait two minutes before getting out to investigate. Bravo Coeur! Now who the fuck is Alene?
-->Bike Again story: According to an article printed in the medical journal The
Lancet, and reported by Reuters: Mountain bikes with "extension handlebars" have
caused severe liver damage several riders. Bikes, bikes bikes, when with they ever
just say no!
-->A free America or a drug-free America, you can't have both dept: The following
came to me via the internet:
On Thursday, October 27, the Drug Enforcement Administration and the Environmental Protection Agency pulled what they called "a detailed administrative inspection." They used this sleazoid technique against the private laboratory of Dr. Alexander T.
Shulgin, in Layfayette, California.
Although they filed no charges against Dr. Shulgin, the government conspirators intended to close down his laboratory.
Dr. Shulgin, a biochemist and psychopharmacology consultant, is famous for his expertise in plants that get you high.
He's been researching psychoactive substances for more than thirty years. In 1991, he and his wife Ann published their memoirs as a fictional book titled "PIHKAL" (Phenethylamines I Have Known and Loved). The book described their adventures with a variety of legal psychedelic substances. Sasha and Ann also have been outspoken opponents of government intrusion into the people's personal lives.
In the drug war, they're the enemy. Right now, no one knows what will happen to Sasha and Ann. The EPA hasn't mad a final determination about the laboratory. Although the DEA is quiet, it's obvious that EPA involvement only came at their insistence.
It looks like the strategy is to use obscure regulations to build up a long list of "health violations," each penalized with a big fine. A hundred violations at $5,000 a pop should be enough to close the lab. Maybe they can get off by saying they didn't inhale.
--> Sitename of the month dept: I haven't visited it, but http://www.livewhorehouse.com has to win on name alone!
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