ANTI-PRESS EZINE #16 "We're Positive About The Negative" An August E-dition (C) Copyright 2000 Anti-Press All Rights Reserved Unless indicated otherwise, all articles by Anti-Press. Articles submitted by others do not necessarily express or reflect the opinions or beliefs of Anti-Press. See the footer below for info on email, subscriptions, submissions, etc. Anti-Press Ezine radiates from our Precision Reality Center. We're presently entrapped in the alleged city of Plattsburgh, northeastern New York State, USA. (For your own good: STAY THE FUG AWAY!) *** THIS E-DITION: PRECISE REALITY/ TITANIC TASTELESSNESS/ WEEDY PHILOSOPHY/ DISCRIMINATORY LANGUAGE *** ============================================================= ANTI-PRESS EZINE LAUNCHES ITS PRECISION REALITY CENTER Whatever the Plattsburgh TeeVee station can do, we can do it one better. A while back the local TeeVee news station announced that not only that its meteorologists were certified (or certifiable?) but that their studio now had a Storm Center where major elemental events could be tracked and studied. Of course, the "Storm Center" was a corner in the studio with a couple of computer monitors sitting on a folding table, banners across the wall proclaiming the spot to be a STORM CENTER. Wow. So we saw that and then decided that this corner of our shoebox "office" would be the "Reality Center". Well, the Plattsburgh TeeVee station had to ratchet their weather forecasting up another big notch. It now features "Precision Weather". How precise is it? Well, back in the springtime the weatherman predicted rain for the next day. We got rain all right-- twelve inches of it fell as snow here in the city, up to twenty-one inches of the white stuff in the Greater Plattsburgh area. Yep. That's precise. We think of the ever-smiling TeeVee weatherman as being good for one thing: he can tell you which way the wind is blowing. He sticks one of his bare appendages out a window and from that he can tell the direction of a gust, even a light breeze. That's why we call him the Weathercock. Only good for letting you know if the air flow is coming down from the north out of Canada, the source of all bad weather for us. Anyway, if they can put up signs in a spare corner of their studio and call it a Storm Center, if they can promote their best guesses as Precision Weather-- well, we're announcing that we're now officially housed in the Precision Reality Center, a spot where we know the difference between rain, snow, and shit. * * * PLATTSBURGH PROMOTES TRAGEDY AS FAMILY FUN The inflatable Titanic. We didn't think about it too much; just another item on the list of attractions during Mayor's Cup Week in downtown Plattsburgh. Probably some sort of display of what the doomed passenger vessel looked like before it sank into the freezing waters as the result of an iceberg-induced wound. The Titanic did tie in with the nautical theme for Mayor's Cup. Every year Plattsburgh sponsors a sailboat race to give the bored capitalists in the area something to do-- mainly the opportunity to flaunt their excess wealth. Us, we wander around with some change in our pocket, debating whether or not we should splurge it on a hotdog or an icecream cone. At least most of the events were free: outdoor concerts, fireworks, the usual family fare. Also the movie "Titanic" was shown at a city park one evening, free of charge, on a giant rear projection screen. Despite the hype when it was originally released, the film did reflect the horrific conditions faced by the passengers as they struggled until help arrived. And then there was the inflatable Titanic. A street was blocked off one day so that the display could expand to its full size, over one story high. But this display wasn't intended for historical purposes. When we spotted it we noticed that the scale was off; it was only a bloated simulacrum of the actual vessel. The black smokestacks were there but a ladder ran along one side, built into the deck. Slanted at a steep angle, the bow not in view, it depicted the final moment before the Titanic slid into the water. Kids could climb the deck ladder of this rubberized monstrosity and then glide down the other side. It was a water slide. Wheeee! What fun. Tragedy reduced to a tacky amusement park ride. We wouldn't mind if this display did something to remind all the kids and their parents what it was actually like to be a doomed passenger on the Titanic. A couple of changes were in order. Each participant should slide down into a deep pool of ice water and be forced to stay there for at least an hour, gasping for air, turning blue, fighting off hypothermia. Randomly-floating dead bodies would add the right touch. We're sick? Are we sick compared to the gleeful fun of the Titanic water slide? We wonder how survivors of that tragedy would react to this. What is Plattsburgh going to sponsor next? How about the inflatable Hindenburg at the next air show? And if the city is so desperate to make money, they should bring back the Titanic water slide next year. But this time make sure to set up a booth next to it to sell saltwater taffy... * * * AN ODE TO THE WEED (AND OTHER DEFIANT PLANTS) A daily ritual: we walk by the abandoned laundromat on main street, noting how much more the plants have consumed that forgotten building. You can't open the front door; it's blocked by a sapling quickly expanding into a tree. A wall of weeds grow in a long crack in the front parking lot. By late fall the laundromat's facade could be masked in green. But it doesn't have to be an army of plants reclaiming the land to impress us. Even one little plant-- the simplest weed-- can catch our attention. A couple of years ago we noticed a small tree growing in a church chimney, easily spotted from the main steps of the public library. There it was, high in the sky, a pole flying its leafy flag. But it's no longer there, snipped and ripped away when the church roof was refurbished. Just down the street from the library there's a newsstand housed on the corner of an old brick building. One summer a small rose was growing out of a crack near the front door. Unfortunately someone else thought it was just another weed and he plucked out the plucky flower. But like a chlorophyllian Hydra, snip one plant and two more will sprout up elsewhere. Despite all the landscaping, lawn-mowing, tree trimming and weed-whacking, plants find chinks in the armor, weak spots, and push their way back into the sunlight. Walking around, alone, on the outside, the most reassuring sight to us is a bastard weed squeezing up from a sea of pavement, refusing to be drowned by the tarmac blackness. * * * WAR OF WORDS *We don't like being treated like a nig--* "You can't say that!" *Why not? That's the way the guy acted towards us.* "But that's an awful word." *Right. A hateful word.* "But you can't use it!" *It can apply to us.* "No, it can't. That word is only used against certain people of a particular skin color." *It can be used against anyone.* "No, that awful word is only used against certain people." *Really. Look it up in a dictionary. One definition of that word is slang for 'a second-class citizen'.* "That's a dictionary. Dictionaries aren't the real world." *Indeed. So dictionaries were created to show how words aren't used by people at large." "You can't use that word to describe yourself in that manner." *Hmmmm. Isn't that discrimination on your part?" "Huh?" *Forget it. We gotta go. We're going to spend our time in a more profitable manner.* "Doing what?" *We're going to converse with a weed sticking up in the middle of the parking lot...* * * * THE WRAP UP This e-dition is running a little short because we're running out of time. We're getting ready to vacate this place, take a long overdue vacation. It's been about a year since we've traveled beyond a 300 radius of this anus of existence. We need a break before we break. Anyway, after a change of scenery, seeing some old friends, resting up for a while, we should come back in a much better mood. But that good mood won't last that long. Then we'll sit down and put out another e-dition of this electronic rant-rag. So don't worry. We'll be back. In spades. Calling a spade a spade. "Hey! You can't use that word..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Submitted works must be ready for publication (edited and proofread). Word Limit: 1000 words. No sci-fi, poetry, sci-fi poetry, poetic sci-fi, etc. Do some research and read a couple of issues to find what we want. Submissions and readers' comments should be sent to Antipress1@aol.com. Anti-Press Ezine and its sporadically published issues are available at: http://www.disobey.com/text/ Copyright 1998-2000 Anti-Press Publication by Disobey. http://www.disobey.com/ TO SUBSCRIBE: majordomo@disobey.com BODY: Subscribe APE TO UNSUBSCRIBE: majordomo@disobey.com BODY: Unsubscribe APE ------------------------------------------------------------------------