for 20 February 1998. Updated every WEEKDAY.

Improve Your Communication
Skills

Having spent the day in
Metropolis, where I was
exposed to a continuous
barrage of half-spoken
sentences, unmeant
well-wishes, and other verbal
garbage, your 6 February
edition was like an island of
intelligence in a sea of
misshapen thoughts.

While I can't quote the Bard,
a quote from Fidonet comes to
mind:

"Obscenity is a crutch for
illiterate bastards." Author
Unknown.

Lee Leachman
<warp2@gulftel.com>

Oh fuck. Color me illiterate
and illegitimate.

Polly

Subject: art

Just bring back Terry.
Please.

John Gregg

We're using guest artists
every other Friday - or more
often if Terry needs more
time to do his duty as
Savior, Ruler, God Almighty
of Suck.

Have Faith. Terry may be
omnipotent, but he still
needs time to swill beer and
eat tacos occasionally.

Hey Sucksters.

Heard any good music lately?

jon143@aol.com

That touching song with the
dialog from Titanic chokes us
up every time....

Improve Your Communication
Skills

Can't you ease up on Fiona a
little bit? She's 20, for
god's sake. Force any teen
into reflection mode for five
hours and see what kind of
drivel even the most
linguistically gifted
pre-pube churns out. The girl
barely has her sea legs. She
can't be expected to not put
her foot in her mouth while
simultaneously backpedaling
her way out of getting
vocally bitch-slapped by
Janeane Garofalo. If the
music press has taught us
anything, it has to be that
over-analyzing
prescription-riddled
musicians creates great copy
if protected efficiently from
any sort of context.

Any form of clear
communication from a girl
who's both dating a
second-rate magician and
being stalked by Marilyn
Manson while maintaining a
strict diet of vegetables and
Prozac has to be treated
either as journalistic
privilege or carefully
constructed PR jargon.

Andrew Schiller
<andyslut@hotmail.com>

Hey, we're not saying she's
not young as hell. We're not
even saying we wouldn't have
sounded 10 times as stupid as
she does. In fact, she
doesn't sound stupid, she's
just ... surprisingly ...
cranberry. That's all.

She's got a great voice; no
one can deny it. She'll be
fine. She just needs to stop
the bony-photo-
plus-naive-interview madness.
Who'll tell her she's fucking
up if we don't?

Besides, she can't hear us.

Your treatise on snappy
communications was nutrageous
and refreshingly cranberry!
Thy obsequious compilation of
wordsmithy doth infest mine
eyes with mirth greatly! It's
delightful, it's delicious,
it's delovely!

Since "peachy" is a sobriquet
already residing within my
loquacious repertoire, the
die is cast upon my
embarkment onto the path of
verbosity. I like the Sprite
in you!

Everytime we say goodbye, I
cry a little. (Wasn't that in
a song by The Outfield?)
Alas, parting is such (or is
it suck?) sweet sorrow!

Grammatically yours,

Tim Booktu
<harborfe@Oswego.EDU>

Surprisingly cranberry, Tim.
Surprisingly.

We applaud your ability to
hunker down, but don't peter
out. Don't just try to speak
differently. Do. Or do not.
There is no try.

Why can't you behave?