++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Socially Deranged Mentality Vol. 1, Issue 8:
Euphoric Discomforts
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Ann Landers?  Ann Landers sucks."
				-Tobias Leehi Negget, Seinfeld
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Table of Tormentia:
pg. 49			Editorials & such
pg. 178			The Pissing Grounds
pg. #2			The Porcelain Throne: today’s king: Son of Armchair
pg. 257			G. Nih Ton: How to Save the World, pt. 3
pg. 99			Happy Thoughts
pg. 86			Religion
pg. 666			Lockout: Why you suck
pg. 42			Antihero
pg. 007			American Gothic: Not about a Grammy winner
pg. 17			Raggedy Ann: Labels and all that bad stuff
pg. 113.5		In excess:  Talk show translations
pg. 29			Deranged Interpretations: Cindy, pt. II
pg. 37			The Alley Mall Vendors
©1997 Socially Deranged Publications.  All rights reserved.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
addresses that you’ll wish you never knew.
The SDM website. Everything you wanted to hate in a website isn’t all there. So?
URL: http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/Lobby/5743/
Editorials, comments, reflections, smartass remarks:
sirhecubus@hotmail.com (anything directed towards a certain writer: Subj: Attn: [certain writer])
Contributions (Articles! We don’t want your money!) & Subscription (Omigosh, it’s free!) Info:
nbsinyk@hotmail.com (variety is nice, so we are welcoming any female and humor contributors)

While you’re at it, let a friend read it. It won’t kill them, will it?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 49
Editorials: We have none, hopefully this issue will change that. For the next go round.

the such:
I will once again and let you know that there is an SDM offshoot for you literary types.  There is no set mood that they want. All they want are contributions: prose, poetry, essays, fiction/nonfiction short stories, and any radical literature concepts.  You can either check out the site [ http://members.tripod.com/~sdpub/eddy/ ] or send submissions or inquiries [ stu06311@aug.edu ].
    On Sept. 30 SDM will put out its Special Censorship with a concept so radical it may just confuse the hell out of you.  If you subscribe, version 1 will be sent to you automatically, so don’t worry.  Just be prepared, that’s all.
   As of Sept. 25, the SDM home page will be moving to a new site, since we don’t want you peeking beforehand, come to the present homepage [http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/Lobby/5743/ ] on the 25th and you’ll be directed there.  There will be many changes, including a daily supplement (temporal dysfunction) for you current event junkies.
And on with the thinking!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 178
The Pissing Grounds
by: Paul B. Whitley
     Since it was avoided last issue, I’ll take this time to bash the fact that Princess Di still isn’t dead.  Before I go any further, let me just say, that as a human, I found her to be attractive, intelligent, and a sucker for any cause celeb.  With that out of the way, let me get on with my point.  Sooner or later, the Elton John single will be released here in the states with the possibility of becoming the biggest thing since the Bible.  Everywhere I look, I am still seeing Princess Di this, Princess Di that.  In all honesty, the woman’s image and importance has become a whore with pimps from the president to the guy on the corner that usually sells picture of the black Jesus "you can’t find anywhere else."  I think that the woman’s memory has been pissed on enough so all I’m going to do is return the favor to the pissers.  
     For all of our spite and disgruntled behavior, I must say that I was surprised to entertain the thought that we were the only group to leave the woman with dignity.  We didn’t exploit her with dedications.  We didn’t waste an entire issue bashing the media (which would’ve been too easy for us).  On top of that, her name was hardly mentioned, but we did let those of you who avoid television and newspapers know that she was did.  Aside from that, I think caring too much about her death would’ve become disrespectful if we dwelled on it.  We had no reason to give a damn, either, because we weren’t driving, taking pictures, buying up tabloids, or blaming the people we depend on for the juicy stuff we’re too scared to do ourselves.  
     If I could just say one more thing about this before I finish, it would be that the villains aren’t the paparazzi.  I respect anyone who can admit to the world that he’s the one doing the shit that people want but won’t touch for fear of tarnishing a reputation.  Who I don’t respect are the anchors and talk show hosts who waste my time blaming the paparazzi as if they were the lone gunman.  It wasn’t the paparazzi that provided me with the 2+ hour footage of a car chase that involved a football player and his friend, it was the "mainstream" media.  Who hovered over his house for an additional hour as a  Bronco stayed park?  That’s right.  I think we know where the blame should fall.  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. #2
The Porcelain Throne: Son of Armchair
    Some of the others have gone about this toilet gig in a way most of us really wouldn't. To everyone, their shit, I say. But the toilet is a weird, weird place. I hate to think about it, especially here but where would you especially NOT want to die? There are particular places and things that go along with those places that you really don't want to have mentioned in your eulogy. Also, you have to realize how vulnerable you are sitting there, if someone where to burst in intending to kill you, you, my friend, are going to die. But it can get even weirder than that sometimes. Like my father's wife's sister, my aunt I guess, burst a kidney one time taking a shit. I can see her sitting there reading about the OJ trial, maybe she hit the page with the word 'acquitted' and the flow just backed up on her like sewage. I feel bad about it and all, but don't act like you didn't laugh a little bit either. She did end up in the ICU for a few weeks, but its not like you could just drag out the old drain snake and clear her right up. the whole scenario was a drag, but no one had the courage or the good sense to just laugh about it. I tried to turn it into a sort of running gag, a few times at the table with my family, and the subject came up, I would ask or wonder how old auntie managed to survive 'the shit to end all shits'. Me, personally, I couldn't go like that. When I go down, I become the fucking Woody Allen, I want drama, I want action, everyone better have their lines down pat, cos there's not second take. Being a big movie buff (Okay, so I'm a couch surfing loser), I want the whole shebang when I die: the "Backdraft" ending, you dig? I don't want to be remembered at everyone's get togethers as the guy who one day pinched off a hell of a lot more than a loaf. First the umbilical cord is snipped off at birth, I don't want a piece of shit falling into the toilet to be the last thing on my celestial resume. This has been a little brief, cos I don't know if I can sit here much longer thinking about this. But I want to leave everyone with a nice little lesson: never be in too big a hurry to get somewhere when your daily business should be the utmost. Bring a book and add ten years or more to your life.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 257
How to Save the World, pt. 3: the conclusion
by: g. nih ton
    Everybody’s now hanging onto my every word so they can find out how in the hell they can save the world.  Well, here it goes, and I know that all of you will know I’m right when I say that we must abolish advice columns.  Just the other day I was reading Ann Landers and some fuck of an idiot was bitching about how she made the wrong call. It ended up with her claiming she didn’t know what she was thinking at the time.  What I derived from this little experience was this: too many people listen to the advice columnists in this world of ours.  You may notice that I am not suggesting an alternative.  Why?  Because nobody needs some high and mighty, know-nothing, busybody telling them how to live a life the busybody’s never experienced.  Instead of waiting 6-8 weeks for advice on what to do at a dinner party you went to before you even wrote the damn letter, why don’t you just shut the fuck up and try a different approach at your next bullshit shindig.  If you need advice why don’t you just open up the curtains and let all your nosy neighbors get a glimpse so they can subtly drop hints as to what you should do about your so-called dilemma.  Ann Landers doesn’t know a damn thing about you or your life and regardless of what she tells you, she’s getting rich because you’re a mindless fuck up who can’t do anything unless you have her address in one of your pockets.
    In closing this little trilogy, I would just like to say that it is sad that the world has come to a point where the only way people can move on with their life is through a talk show or an advice column.  It is also a disappointment to see that children are being raised by the almighty PSAs of the square god.  I don’t want to sound like a fundamentalist, but seeing all of this bullshit has almost turned me into one.  I’m not saying stop the sex or violence, mind you.  I’m just saying cut the bullshit off and read something that doesn’t end with "Fretful in Frankfurt."  Believe it or not, the rest of the paper that surrounds Section C isn’t there for protection from the rain.  It lets you know about a world where people aren’t constantly seeking help for that houseguest from hell.

©1997 G. Nih Ton. All rights reserved.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 99
[no title to be had]
by: Eric Horton
    Ever walk into a marshmallow while drinking charcoal and think to yourself "I've gotta lay off the Prozac."? Well, neither have I, although I've been close. why do people overdose if they want to commit suicide? Statistics show that overdosing works half the time.  My theory is that a lot of people don't attempt suicide because they want to die.  A lot of the time, it's the only way they can think of to get help.  It's because asshole parents and other people don't listen to what their kids have to say. Attempting suicide is a way to get noticed, a way to say "This problem is fucking serious." It's amazing how much this does happen though.  Many people today are tormented by the throes of depression with no help from outside sources.  Another thing people don't realize is that clinical depression is a medical disease. Many people don't get help because they blame the depression on personal weakness or situations.  What's my point here?  There are other ways to get help than attempted suicide.  Sometimes people don't mean to kill themselves but do.  And it can be prevented.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 86
Religion
by: LizzyBeth
    Jeez, I got to skip my choir class one day because me and a couple friends had to "practice." Well, if you know who teenage girls are, then you know that they love to talk and talk and talk.... We actually started out practicing, right? But then we started to talk about our different religions. I'm Catholic, (personally I hate it....) Suzanne is Mormon, and Bekah, Amy, and Ashley are Baptist. We got into a conversation about religions. First we identified them, and explained what they were, then it got kinda bad. Everyone (except me) thought their religion was "best". I am thinking of changing my religion, and so when I said that, they all wanted me to come to each of their churches, and "test it out". I had one saying, "this religion is wrong, don't go to her church," and another saying the same exact thing!! Talk about confusion. There are so many religions in this world, and so many people truly believe "their" religion, that I think, people have lost sight of the meaning of religion. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the meaning of religion to unite everyone, and get closer with God? (Or gods....) I believe we have lost sight of the true meaning, and the fighting about which religion is right, is wrong. Perhaps all religions are right, but in their own way. I guess it all depends on your point of view. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 666
It Must Suck To Be You
by: Lockout
    Right now i'm thinking that it probably sux to be you, mainly cause you're not me, however it sux to be me as well so we’ll talk about why it sux....
    What’s wrong, and why does it suck to be you? i know the question is running trough your mind.  It's going along with "how in the hell did he know?"  And the answer is simple.  If you have time to read this, then you are obviously stuck in a dead-end job, or are a student. either way, i doubt your happiness.  And to follow that up, i'm sure that someone else in this issue if not a previous one has said something to rain on your parade, am i right or am i right, i'm right, and that's what i thought.  Now i suppose you are wondering how you can fix the problem of your life sucking and i have the answer...get a better job, or graduate (notice dropping out and quitting were not options)
    Or you could kill yourself, however this has yet been proven to be a good way out.  Now we move onto your personal life. Your social life sucks you obviously don't have one as you are reading this article, so get off your ass and go make some friends with the 3-d people will ya.  And for crying out loud, going to the clubs and bars isn't a life either it just has you fooled into believing that it is.  You and i mean you need to get out and do SOMETHING. Hello, did you hear me??? Get a real life and make your self happy, if going to bars and clubs make you happy then you are probably pretty shallow and don't deserve my advice.  Also take a minute to analyze your life  have you found it yet???  Yeah you did that little part about you that really makes you unhappy, stop whining about it and FIX IT.  The world would be a lot better off if i had nickel for all the dumbass who could fix their problems did so.  Now don't get me wrong i'm not saying that you are completely worthless, however, you are pretty damn close.  Now that we have why you suck out of the way and how to fix it please finish our publication, and then go out and do something and change your life...and don't forget to send a response to at least one article
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 42
shitstorm for tomorrow.
by: antihero
    you ever notice how some people will believe any shit you feed them? some people, you can tell them anything, and they'll automatically believe it. we've all probably been guilty of that kind of thing at some point, but some people take it to an extreme level of idiocy. those are the people who read those supermarket tabloids, which, personally, if somebody wants to read that shit, let them be.  it's not like the chances of them doing anything productive otherwise are very great anyway.  but these people are polluting the gene pool, creating more of their kind.  it wouldn't be so bad if they weren't all over the damn place...  but everywhere you look, some moron is doing something so obviously clueless that you just want to slap them around a while to make them think for even a split second. but you don't, because you know very well that it would do no good... nothing ever will.  and it's not that these people are necessarily assholes, or anything like that, it's just hard to watch such mind-boggling stupidity without doing something about it...  i don't know... maybe i'm just talking out of my ass.  or maybe i'm being perfectly lucid.  either way, i think i'm done here.  until next time.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 007
American Gothic
by: Dave Black
    I know that there are some entertainment assassins here, but this seems to be a topic in my head that just won’t die.  I also know that most of the hoopla surrounding this groups is practically dead, but like I said, it won’t die.  I want to discuss Marilyn Manson.  Unlike most, I won’t take this time to bash them for whatever they’ve done to offend you.  To be honest, I even like some of their music.  I’ve read and seen interviews as well.  What really confirmed my stance is seeing the frontman on "Politically Incorrect."  My only problem is that they enjoy all of this publicity, which to me, loses some of the meaning that goes behind the lyrics.  Now to where I want to be.
    I don’t want to come off as positive or anything of the like, but listening to Marilyn Manson could probably do this country some good.  The US is full of status conscious, aesthetic mongering, societal whores.  Let me change that, listening to Manson won’t do a damn piece of good, because this country is also full of ignorant people who forgot how to learn after class is over.  If this land could listen, it would probably hear a song about people more concerned beauty and self than anything else.  Oddly enough, there is also a problem of seeing past one’s nose in this great country.  
    I don’t care about all the bullshit that surrounds him.  If the religious right was correct (sure they were) and this band is nothing more than a travelling Sodom and Gomorra, then so fucking be it.  That’s his problem.  I never discriminated against gays before, so why do it now?  Marilyn Manson, if you look at it from the right direction is nothing more than a modern day Socrates.  A man who provoked others to thing and in the process, became a martyr to his cause.  Maybe Manson doesn’t have a cause, but the bullshit surrounds him only means that there are people more than willing to control you.  It probably wasn’t his intent to become such a poster  child.  Frankly, I don’t give a damn about that.  All I know is that there are assholes keeping you from some truth out there.  Scary.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 17
HELP ME, WHAT AM I?
By: Raggedy Ann
    I won't start this off with any witty statements or controversial tidbits because I don't know any. And even if I did, they've probably already been used by some asshole who got them from some other asshole who had too much time on their hands and had to go and think up the damn thing. So I'll just start. And if you don't want to listen, click on that little down arrow over there and read something else. I won't be mad cause I don't want to listen either.
    We live in a fucked society. That's plainly obvious, and every writer for SDM has addressed that fact from one aspect to the next...I guess I'm just continuing the trend. Has anyone else but me noticed that to even survive in society today, one must be distinctly labeled according to their
clothes/music taste/attitude/friends (or lack thereof)/whatever else is SO crucially important? I've noticed. What happened to the days when you could just BE, when you didn't have to have an image to uphold? Maybe it was never like that. Maybe you were always labeled and couldn't change that or do anything that didn't fit in with "who you were" (unless you wanted to be considered - gasp! - a POSER). Everywhere you go, people are gonna ask you "what you are"...Nowadays, you have several options to choose from: Preppie? Trendoid? Stoner? Punk? Goth? I don't want to name anymore, cause I'm gonna hurl any second. What I'm really getting at is...who the hell am I? I fit into a hell of a lot of categories. Yes, I mainly wear black, but I'm not a goth. Yes, I love punk music, but I'm not a punk. Yes, I've been suckered in by the Gap (well, my mom dragged me in there to get a polo shirt for school, so I guess that doesn't count) but I'm not a preppie. And I'm not gonna give you the details of my drug history (so fuck off) but I'm not a stoner. So what the hell am I? I'm one of those freaks who's there, but no one really gives a rat's ass. I have friends, but I'm not "popular", cause I refuse to enter a mall. I play the guitar, but I'm not a grunge rocker. And I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, so I guess I'm not a poser. 
    I should probably come to a conclusion about who I am at this point, because my father's waiting to use the computer and you're probably ready to kick my ass for taking too long. So I'm concluding that I definitely need to rethink this whole concept of "myself" so I can fit into one of those categories. That way I'll know the way my whole life will go...what friends to pick, music to listen to, where to shop...Damn! I'll never have to make a decision again! This is great! Now my problem is picking one of the fucking groups. This could be difficult...but hey! Since after that, I'll never have to think again, why not practice now? Hey you, reader! Tell me what I should be. Please? Hello? HELLO?

Someone please classify me. I'm confused.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 113.5
In excess: Today’s superflous delight is nothing more than a translation of some good talk show topics.  You had better read this, because talk shows had to be watched in order to compile this list and we won’t charge you for that. Honestly, you don’t need to watch talk shows to figure this stuff out.  Furthermore, no one did, but saying it was a feeble attempt at undeserved pity.  Nevertheless, it got done, so go ahead and read it.

I Want A Makeover: I’m Tired Of Being A Prostitute, I Want To Be A Call Girl
Secret Confessions: I’m A Slut And You Were Too Stupid To Know It
Help! I’m Stuck Between Two Lovers: I’m Scared Of Being Alone, So I’m A Slut
That’s Not My Child: White Trash Riot
Help Me Find My Long Lost Child: I’m A Bad Parent
Racism: Rating Sweeps Time
Kids Pick On Me:  I’m A Wuss, And National Television Will Only Get My Ass Kicked Even More
I Want To Have A Baby: CHEAP SEX HERE!!!!
I Won’t Take it Anymore: I Will Take It As Long As You Make Me
I Can’t Get A Dates:  They Disconnected My Cable
My Child Won’t Behave:  It’s Karma, Baby!

For the next issue, I suggest sending in the worst insult you’ve ever received.  Not only will it help you to vent, but it’ll give the rest of ideas on what will get others pissed off.  Send them to jdsdead@hotmail.com
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg.  29
Deranged Interpretation: Cindy, pt II
by: Kari-Anne
The day of the ball, the costumes for SM, Selma and Val were done. Cindy made one for herself as well, but she kept it hidden. She knew that they would be pissed if they knew. She spent the day pampering the three women, looking forward to the day she turned 18. Only a few months to go. Then she would be outta there and nobody could stop her. By 4:00pm the women were fully dressed and ready to go. SM called a taxi. While they waited, Cindy ran upstairs and got herself ready to go. She figured that if she was done by the time the taxi got there, they would allow her to tag along. She got to the top of the stairs just as the doorbell rang. She ran down the stairs.
     Her sisters burst into laughter. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" they demanded. "John Prince won't allow his son to marry trash like you."
     "I don't want a husband," Cindy replied. "I just want to go for the fun of it."
     About that time SM said, "Val, isn't that your hair ribbon on the front of her dress?"
     Val and Selma attacked Cindy full force, tearing her costume to shreds and beating Cindy to a bloody pulp in the process. 
     "Come girls, the meter is running and Bubba awaits my two beautiful daughters," SM said.
 Selma and Val both kicked Cindy one more time on their way out the door. Cindy lay whimpering in a pool of her own blood when someone knocked on the door. She dragged herself to the door, stood and opened it. At first Cindy thought it was an angel come to take her. The swelling in her eyes made it difficult to see. The sequins on the stranger's clothes didn't help. Cindy fainted.

     She came to a few minutes later on the couch in the living room. She looked around as best she could. She tried to get up. A gentle hand pushed her back down to rest.
     "Who....what???" asked Cindy.
     "You're gonna be ok, honey," came a voice... unfamiliar... "My car broke down out front. I came to use your phone. You probably feel worse than you look right now. Was it your husband?"
     "Um.... no... it was my step-sisters... they didn't want me going to Prince's ball." Cindy said. She felt like her mouth was full of gravel.
     "There, there, honey" said the voice. "My name is Jazzy. Ever heard of me?"
     Cindy tried to focus on Jazzy. "Yeah, aren't you that famous drag queen?"
     "That's me in all my glory!" squealed Jazzy. "How you feelin’, honey?"
     "Been worse. You should see what they do when they're pissed." Cindy chuckled and groaned. "Can you help me? I've got to go to this thing now, just because they don't want me to."
    "Sure thing, honey. Got some costumes in my car. I'll be right back."
[to be continued…]
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
pg. 37
Who needs a mall?  Nobody.  Why is this here?  Got me.  Why do we keep doing it?  Because some of us are a bit too bored.  But on the other hand, it might be funny to think about something that doesn’t exist.  Or does it?

Watches							Scott Seamus
More watches					Paul B. Whitley
Customer #1						antihero
Customer #2						Kari-Anne
Pharmacist						Son of Armchair
Entertainment Manager			G. Nih Ton
Entertainment					LizzyBeth
Undercover Cop					Eric Horton
Customer #3						Dave Black
Lookout							Lockout
More Entertainment				Pete
Electronics Salesperson			Raggedy Ann
Rikki Tikki Tavi				A mongoose


Not to sound corporate or anything, but this is the way it goes. The newsletter and its concept belongs to SDM publications. Anything written belongs to the respective authors, so please don’t go ripping any of us off. We’re not getting paid for this, and you shouldn’t either, so don’t be an asshole, go write something yourself. Give credit where credit’s due. Everyone here does what seems to be a good job, so all we’re asking is that you respect that.

No one can scream better than those who make you do it.


