Hello.

I guess you could say it has taken me a while to get inspired enough to write this
introduction for this issue. Maybe it has been the constant flood of inquires about
whether or not I am running for president this year. I know I shouldn't complain but
really now, does anyone think I could possibly do a better job than those idiots in
office today? Besides, I don't care for brown colored lips from kissing everyones butt,
and if I didn't do what they wanted me to, surely I would be assainated by the World
Wrestling Federation. What the hell, there are so many people out of work today, they
probably wouldn't have to hire a professional hitman, they could pay anybody a $1000 cool
ones to knock me up.
By the way, speaking of cool ones, I saw a disgusting commercial from the makers
of Kool Aid Push-up Pops in which young children are performing erotic blowjobs on frozen
sticks of sugar icicles. Which reminds me, I wish The Sugarcubes would come to my house
so I could have sex with all the girls in the band. So much for subliminal advertising
you upscale New York advertising jerks who think you know the world & it's needs because
you conduct surveys during lunch hour at busy eating establishments alond the hudson
river. Why, everyone knows you stuff your own bras and make up the answers to Wheel of
Fortune reruns, and thats why we won't purchase the latest weed wacker to trim the bushes
here at our lovely suburban offices in upstate New York. We use good old fashioned
scissors to cut the grass and then we eat it right out of our hands. We get our daily
recommended allowance of fiber I tell ya!
Its no secret the contry & maybe the world is in a recession. This has cuased
everyone from bankers to radio stations to rethink their lunch budgets and then raise
their prices to cover the increase in parking. I tell ya, if you want to get rich, open
up a restaurant. No matter how much the economy is hurting, people are always going out
to dinner. And you know why? Its the women in the family. Or maybe I should say it's the
men of the family. Because both heads of the household have to work now-a-days to support
juniors Nintendo habits, the women of the house is often to tired to cook dinner on the
weekend. So instead of the man firing up the barbecue microwave, he decides it's much
easier to take the family out to dinner and stare at the waitresses butt instead of cook
dinner. So what we have is a new geeneration of butt watchers who suffer from a lack of
good home cooked meals. Instead they go out to eat 3 to 4 times a week (information
supplied by Jefferson & Cockswell Surveys Inc) and spend their hardearned money on take
out food, instead of primo Nintendo Games. This causes junior to get upset and blow
someones head off during a drug deal in order to buy his own Nintnedo Games, which raises
the crime rate, but hey the restaurant owners are getting rich and isn't that the
American way !?
I went to a Greatful Dead Parking Lot the other day and it was beautiful man. So
much selling of tie dies, beads, and brownies I thought I had taken a wrong turn and
wound up at the local outdoor shopping mall. There was so much love in the air I though
someone was gonna club that cop if he frisked any more young girls. This must have been
what the 60's were like man. But I dont think the 60's had young college dudes & dudettes
hangin out on the bumper of their 1992 Pontiac Firebird drinking Labatts and listening
to Jane's Addiction. But it was pretty funny when I set them on fire. I don't think their
ever comin back.
Hey, I've been walkin around in a drunken stupor lately talkin to alot of people
about how they feel they got a bum deal after they graduated from college and cant find
a job which earns over $6 an hour. So the next issue we're opening up a forum where
everyone can comment on how their life is going and what they see or want to see in the
future. We will offer some opinions on what we think are the major trends in science and
how it will effect everyone. This is in rebellion to every other magazines articles about
the future trends in fashion. I mean if you can't earn over $6 an hour and walk to the
local transporter booth without getting brain-wave tranmission redirection how can you
afford a new cellophane wrapped breast implant that glows in the dark. WE GET REAL ! Read
on .....

Send your stories, ideas, complaints, etc along with $1 to cover postage to:

Chickenbutt: WAZ. Editor in lard: Andie. Producer/Nag: Mary. Beer run driver: Dave.

 

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