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Our Other National Passtime
Written by Aaron Cynic   
It's about damned time that we stop jabbering about what various "supporters" or "endorsers" or pastors or former teachers, roommates, friends, associates, well wishers, and anyone else that might back this candidate or that. The Jeremiah Wright business was probably the biggest waste of time since Bill Clinton's blowjob. What the man said wasn't even terribly controversial, if you ask me. More importantly, he's not the one running for office. Now McCain has his own problems and though I loathe to take sides with a mouthpiece for the right wing conservatives in this country, I can empathize.

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The Great American Going Out Of Business Sale
Written by Aaron Cynic   

My dad likes to keep pointing out that there are some great condos back in Tinley Park (my hometown). I'm pretty sure he's not a fan of me living in the city - or renting, because according to people who understand economics, it's a waste of money. When you rent you're not building equity, which is what American life is apparently all about. I would probably understand the housing crisis better if I did have some kind of condo or home or mortgage, but when you're counting change for gas money or deciding how long you can let the phone bill go before it gets shut off - equity is something foreign. The only thing I'm building equity on is a small collection of records and Simpsons memorabelia, which I've started selling on ebay.

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I Punch Thomas In The Face Once Again
Written by Aaron Cynic   

Recently, thanks to the micro social networking site, twitter - a journalist freed himself from an Egyptian prison. Unfortunately, his translator who was also arrested, has since disappeared in the Egyptian prison system. Americans, I think - would find this pretty common. Often when we think of places like Egypt or China or anywhere in Latin America, not to mention the Middle East - we think of people unjustly imprisoned or disappearing for their political beliefs. We think of dictatorships and lost liberties. We like to believe that we're the shining beacon of freedom in an otherwise harsh undemocratic world.

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SKA House and the Virginity Dress
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader) on December 30, 2007   
She looked delighted to see me as I lifted garbage bag after garbage bag out of the trunk of my uncle?s van. She descended on the bags like a locust and ripped them open. I tried not to give a shit, but it was to no avail.

I had just spent Thanksgiving moving the last of my possessions out of my mom?s place. Her tiny two-bedroom apartment was being slowly encompassed by her collection of cats, so she and her felines decided to move to a nice chunk of family property in the country. Luckily this was during my brief Zen anarchist phase. I decided to bag up all my possessions that didn?t serve some sort of sentimental value and let Our Lady of Seventies Thrift Stores deal with it. I thought I could get rid of my old life quietly and slip into oblivion without anyone from my high school class noticing.
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SKA House puts the "dick" back in "Dixie"
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader) on October 1, 2007   


There?s a magical moment once a year in West Virginia, a holiday where the world is at peace and children dance and unicorns swoop out of the sky with free candy. This happiest of days celebrates the return of our poet laureate Hank III.

Hank III loves West Virginia, and while it?s definitely a source of pride, it?s also a bit confusing. After all, we did kill his grandpa (who, rumor has it, was pretty fond of the state himself). Not only that, but he also lovingly regards our wackiest internationally known family the Boone Country Whites. Doesn?t ring a bell? What about the Dancing Outlaw? Ah, now I?ve got your attention.
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SKA House meets the Green Fairy
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader) on July 26, 2007   


SKA House was gearing up for its St. Patty’s Day kegger. Okay, technically it wasn’t a kegger, since (A) we didn’t have enough people we’d actually want to spend an evening with to constitute buying a single keg, let alone several (B) none of us really liked beer. Instead, to make the evening more magical, Sluggy and I decided to make absinthe.
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SKA House: Columbus Is a Dive (Even on the Back of a Bike)
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader) on June 28, 2007   


It had been a mediocre week and a pretty bad weekend. The pinnacle was the destruction of Tracey’s car, but lots of little things added up, too: the scene drama, the impending term papers, the lack of time to write or hang out or watch bad movies because of piling up school work. Therefore, it was a very pleasant surprise when the Panty gals reminded me of the Leftover Crack roadtrip we’d planned months earlier.
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SKA House and the Caper of the Disappearing Window
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader) on June 14, 2007   


SKA House was all geared up to go to the local mall and see Super Colon* until we discovered that Tracey’s passenger side window had been smashed out the night before. More accurately, Sluggy discovered the window; the first thing I saw was the half-full sandwich bag of pot.

This made the second time someone stupid had broken into one of Tracey’s cars. When she still had the old convertible, someone sliced through the drop-top to steal half a 24-pack of bottle water. We theorize that it was a dehydrated and desperate band of wandering ravers stuck in a K hole. This crime made even less sense, however, since not only had the perpetrator stolen only a fist-full of laundry quarters, but he also left a sizable amount of pot in the front seat.
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Clogs and Tampons
Written by Jamina Lin (Oh My Stars) on June 12, 2007   


My mother is one of the most ethical people I know. She will not download music, she will not accept mix CDs from other people because of copyright infringement, and (most irritating of all) she will not drive one mile past the speed limit. This has led to us being honked at several times on every trip down the highway. My mother is cheerfully unaware of the dirty looks she receives from every motorist that passes her by.

Growing up, our different views on what “legal” meant led to many heated discussions. For her, a rule is a rule is a rule is a rule. For me—well, I didn’t break the rules exactly; I just didn’t have a problem with bending them slightly.
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SKA House: Trainwreck
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader)   
May 18, 2007

It had been almost four months since Bailey had been in my zipcode. I’d pretty much come to grips with the fact that the relationship was over. The entire time he was gone, I’d gotten two drunken phone calls, and the only thing I could make out of the garbled slurred speech is that he was dreading coming back to Huntington. Thus in February when I suddenly received a knock at the door, I fully expected my friend Lenny the Loud to be there with a guitar ready to hack out some Who covers. The absolute last thing I expected was a cleaned-up sober Bailey.
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The Hustler
Written by Spydr (Conscious Defect)   
May 7, 2007

Arlington Texas – Spring 2003

Its obvious he's running a scam. No one I've heard of sells brand new laptops for one hundred and sixty dollars. The fat black man sweating in the sun is laughable. But how far will he go with this? How stupid does he think I am?

“Where did you get it?” I ask.

"Best Buy" he says. "I work there." His racket is signing laptops as ‘lost items’ after each delivery, then selling to college students. But I'm not a college student. I live in a van. I have no money. He doesn't know that. And he also doesn't know I don't have a hundred and sixty dollars. Or that I've got nothing better to do but waste his time – all day.
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Fire and Brimstone
Written by Jamina Lin (Oh My Stars)   
April 27, 2007

After a particularly disastrous freshman year at my public high school, my parents and I chose to transfer me to a decidedly more quiet school. This school, which we will call Unidentified Religious Cult-like School (URCS, for short) had been recommended to us by several friends I knew who went there. I’m sure the school had some redeeming qualities—in fact, while I went there, I quite liked it. For the most part.
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SKA House: An Engine of Poop and Chaos
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader)   
April 20, 2007

Tracey, being the fine, upstanding citizen she is, arrived at SKA House in the afternoon after a half-day of work. Sluggy and I, being the dirtbags we are, were still in bathrobe watching Homestar Runner with dirty pint glasses and empty booze bottles strewn about from the previous Shitty Movie Night. Nothing of high importance, like finishing my screenplay, had been accomplished; it’s fairly obviously that something low on the list of priorities, like three days’ worth of dishes, had even crossed my mind.
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The Balloon Scheme
Written by Spydr (Conscious Defect)   
April 14, 2007

Phase two of our scheme happens in the moments I've got my foot on the gas keeping this piss colored van sputtering through the first rays of morning while Mandy sits in the back – stretching latex over a nozzle – preparing the stolen balloons. We’ve got the good colors. Pink, black, green... well... actually... it's my fault for making a mistake in the isles of Wal-Mart – mistaking GREEN for BLUE before slipping the package into my pocket. We were avoiding blue, but... it's too late. Screw it. We've got everything – balloons, helium tank, reel of nylon twine, and one crazy fucking idea. No turning back.
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SKA House: A New Hope
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader)   
April 04, 2007

With a month’s notice, Calico moved back to Gallipolis. Much to her chagrin, it caused no drama, and I had a new roommate before she’d even started packing. I had the apartment to myself for about a week, and at first it was pretty awesome to be able to lounge in the living room in my underwear eating spaghetti and watching obscure violent Japanese movies.
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A Vicious Cycle
Written by Jamina Lin (Oh My Stars)   
April 04, 2007

Her name was Kate Vicious. The name fit her; she was brutal. Brutal in a good way—her messy punk hair with all the colors leaking out of it, her skin stained from too much eyeliner. She was hardcore in a way that all our suburban kids wished they were hardcore. She was the first girl I met who was more than just an aesthetic. I was young then and easily impressionable. I thought I was dirty because I cut my own hair and I wore jeans from a thrift store. Kate Vicious was different than me. She was grimy, and she was real.
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SKA House, Part 2
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader)   
March 23, 2007

(<< continued from March 09, 2007)

Bailey was a drunk punk that followed me home from a show one night and never left. I didn’t feel inclined to kick him out because (A) he gave me a harbor from Calico’s drama and (B) he was really good in bed. He was an awesome lover and a funny guy.

However, he was also an unmedicated schizophrenic and a severe alcoholic. He was fond of saying that a forty was cheaper than Prozac and didn’t support some multi-million dollar medical company. I tried telling him that the fine folks at Milwaukee’s Best weren’t worried about their electric bill, but he’s have none of it. I also tried telling him that the alcohol made his attacks worse rather than helped them, but he definitely won’t believe that bullshit.
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Living In Your House
Written by Spydr (Conscious Defect)   
March 23, 2007

The Suburbs, Winter 2003-2004

Nothing more frightening than waking to a fat man flickering the lights and asking “What the hell are you doing in MY house?” Knowing a wrong answer would make me the hotdog between his ass cheeks. Would four hundred pounds of pressure or asphyxiation kill me first? My first thought is holding my hands up in desperation to say “Please don’t sit.” Instead I need something else. Like a story. The first ten seconds awake and I’m rubbing my eyes forced to think of a good lie – and fast. The fat man isn’t getting any happier.

“Uh… I'm sorry. I'm having problems with parents, and Mandy said it’d be alright if I stayed here.” Then I look at him, and he looks at me. One second taking too long. But he finally nods.

“Get up, I’ll give you a ride home.”
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Natural Learning
Written by Jamina Lin (Oh My Stars)   
March 16th, 2007

"Wait a minute," they say, their eyes wide open. "You don't go to school?"

They are aghast, as I knew they would be. The reaction is always the same.

"I go to school," I reply. "Kind of."

With my friends I laugh that I am a high school drop out, which is both true and untrue. I am still being educated, albeit not in the traditional sense. I am unschooled.
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SKA House, Part 1
Written by Alexis Stewart (Rhododendron Reader)   
March 9, 2007

With a few randomly placed alphabet fridge magnets, Sigma Kappa Alpha, or SKA House, was born.

Of course, the concept of SKA House was formed much earlier. Tracy came home one Friday to find a sink full of last week’s dishes, a floor full of empty booze bottles, and the remaining two members of the house in bathrobes with no real explanation. Horrified, she screamed, “You guys live like a bunch of stinking frat boys!” Instead of being offended, we had found a goal.
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