THE FREE PRESS DEATH SHIP #3 In true piratical fashion the new Death Ship opens with a scourging of the monopoly held by the ISBN (International Standard Book Number) licensing system, declaring it the very antithesis of the Free Press. This is followed by a look at “The ISBN Mystery” by Travis Klein (which also appeared in The Match!), while lengthy letters section (15 pages) argues about the very same concept, and further on there’s an anonymous rant, “Why I Refuse to be Numbered.” Also included are quotations from the enigmatic Ret Marut/B. Traven (“Only when they have become rebels will I regard them as capable of understanding what it is to be human, and be able to bear it.”), the second half of an interview with one-man free press engine Fred Woodworth, articles on mail art and printing technology (non-computer related, of course) and, comprising the greater portion of the Death Ship, the reviews! Many pages long, this section features only hard-copy zines, with reviews varying between sentence fragments and half-page excerpts & commentary. These latter are usually those publications Jones empathizes with, anarchist/free-press/independent types. Within the pages (or should I say upon the decks?) of the Death Ship these days there seems to be an ever-increasing trend toward politicizing the free press, agitating toward an anti-Internet/anti-ISBN movement. And while I agree with some aspects of this ideology (hard-copy publications are better, yes, and it befits the independent underground press to avoid licensing and control by various corporations and institutions), I still believe that any and all avenues of expression, publication, and distribution are valid and potentially useful ones; if someone is determined to ‘get their word out’ they will find the appropriate manner in which to do so without being swayed by the ranting of any particular free press faction or the capitalistic pressure of ‘the System.’ But despite the agitation the Free Press Death Ship has quite a lot to offer, and as has every issue in the past number three provides a goodly amount of information and contact addresses along with a little bit of food for thought. * * * Free / donation (no checks) from Violet Jones – P.O. Box 55336, Hayward, CA, 94545

	FUCK VOL. 2 #1 It’s a whole new Fuckin’ world – one even more disturbed than that reflected in the many issues of the first incarnation of Fuck magazine. Gone are the racist, sexist and Martian screeds of the past; still appearing in full force are the freaks, nudes, mutations and atrocities of before, collaged together with a string of nonsense inspired enough to make funeral parlors feel like kindergartens – and vice-versa. Tumor piles, birth defects, Hilfiger Bin Laden, layered screaming faces, smiling chairs, “Concerto for Air Conditioner + Car Alarm,” breathing walls with eyes, Retard Foo-Yung, fairy tales of the lunacy of common objects, meaningless photographs (or are they…?), nonsense phrases (or are they; “Inside outside what’s the difference between you and a pile of hot dogs.”), mongoloid nun porn, sing-song poems that read like witches’ spells, living smudges, talking food, “Thirteen Hundred Hours Until Midnight” comix, scribbles & bits, handicapped brainwaves wrought on paper, a “fetching young sprout,” aardvarks of toast (aardvarks of toast), hallucinations, pickles, flying wigs, bulbous cartoons… All dance together in a violently haphazard layout random enough to reflect the great design and give birth to more than a few ghosts in the process. The product of a mind completely unrestricted, this Fuck is a black magic art brut masterpiece; brilliantly retarded and profoundly disturbing, reading this is akin to being put under a spell of enlightened enfeeblement – with each page that’s turned more mind-boggling mongolism is exposed and you can actually feel yourself slipping away into the twilight region of some institutional ward.  And if you’ve heard the Doctor’s Shiggy Diggy Dee, remember: “It’s Peanut Time 1980 Percent of the Time.” * * * * * $6.00 from Randall Phillip – monstermonkeyhead@yahoo.com – P.O. Box 2217, Philadelphia, PA, 19103

	FUCK Vol. 2 #2 Sidewalk scraps given voice, demented collage actors, photos of found items with strange captions, peculiar punchlines in random patterns, threats and laughter mingling aimlessly, garbage speaks, cabbage snowman, angry car-freshener, brilliant t-shirt ideas, “A piece of dogshit with a fork in it on a dollar bill with a barrette,” “Nebbish and Randall About Chickens,” “Jar of Vaseline with doll head $20.00,” and rants such as “My Advice for Vice,” “Car Less” and “Will You be the One?” Not quite the full-blown brain-bursting mindfuck the previous visionary issue was, but will still have you scratching your cup of noodles and coming away with a fuzzy conscience. “No matter how you look at it – I gotta put my shoes on.” * * * $5.00 + $2.00 postage from Randall Phillip – randallphillip@yahoo.com – P.O. Box 2217, Philadelphia, PA, 19103

	THE FUGLIES #1 - By Steve Carter & Antoinette Rydyr The first new release from the SCAR team in some months, The Fuglies is also one of their more complex and richly illustrated independent comix. Taking place on a wild world (as many of SCAR’s tales do), the story concerns the differences between the planet’s mutant-infested badlands and the inhabitants of the pure and bureaucratic Perfectown. When criminal elements from one become entangled in the other, and the line between civilization and savagery are blurred, the opportunities are ripe for pages of violent battles, gruesomely detailed monsters, cannibalism, revenge, and other assorted acts of mayhem. Not to mention a healthy serving of T&A. And although the issue seems to end with a note of closure rather than a cliffhanger, a sufficient number of questionable characters are left alive to provide ample material for further installments. Take a look, and as always ask for a list of Steve and Antoinette’s impressive line of other titles. * * * * $5.00(?) from Steve Carter and Antoinette Rydyr, P.O. Box 312, Greenacre, NSW 2190, Australia

	GALATEA LIVES #21 Sadly, this is the last issue of Galatea Lives. This is truly too bad, as informed and rational thinking are becoming increasingly rare, especially in the independent publishing spectrum. Some of this thinking is clearly reflected in the collected Introit and the ever-mindful “Global Warming Watch” (as I type this, scientists are becoming ‘alarmed’ over the fact that global warming is breeding stronger hurricanes now and not in some distant future), as they are in “Elections Everywhere: Reasons for Hope.” This article voices the surprising, and surprisingly acute, forward-thinking opinion that George W. may actually be good for the Middle East. There are a few “Predictions” and “Basic Principals” to tide the reader over in the coming dearth of future issues, some correspondence and a look at “The China Problem” (fostered by the European Union). As always, most thought provoking. The passing of Galatea Lives will most surely leave a vacuum. * * * * Cash + age statement from Jeffrey Deboo – P.O. Box 930, Gresham, OR, 97030-0214

	GEOMA - By Jim Sumii Here’s a rather elegant departure for the prolific Jim Sumii – a square-sized, professionally printed, full color portfolio entitled Geoma (“A Picture Book”). No Bad Girls or other comix here, instead Geoma resembles a polished color-washed edition of Head Case; within these 28 glossy pages are six titled color (pen & ink and watercolor) works bearing a subtle mythic resonance in Sumii’s trademark iconic/archetypal style, five handsome black & white pieces (the bold “Infinity” stands out most among them), a page of small reproductions including what look like a few images that didn’t make the full-page cut, a colorful lotus-like emblem and, one of my favorites, the back cover’s mirror-image katydid/grasshopper bug. All that’s missing is the 7” single of appropriately esoteric music that the package cries out for (the ideal cover for which might have been guest artist Leila Ramella’s “Instant,” which wraps the inside covers). Unfortunately if you don’t already have a copy of Geoma chances of getting one might be slim. Printed in an extremely limited edition of only 100 copies, Geoma was apparently designed as a small press gift run rather than a quick buck vanity project. And while that’s a good thing for the most part it may leave a few fans hungry. It’s very much worth asking after however, so you might want to drop Sumii a line. * * * Jim Sumii – jimsumii@netzero.net

	GLAG #1 A thick little mini, jam-packed with unabashed perversion and degradation all kinds. Problem being, when you got someone working under the influence of drugs, Peter Sotos and William Burroughs a lot of it comes out the same: rambling and improvisationally blasphemous rants that include a lot of young boys and violent cornholing. Bucketloads of blood, death and sperm. There are actually some disturbingly poetic moments to it all, but on the whole this will appeal mostly to the Whitehouse/Jim Goad fan base. There’s also a letter to “Party Monster” Michael Alig, a bit on tranny porn star Danielle Foxxx, and reviews of other fucked-up zines. Plus, some wild new patron saint votive pages. Some wild shit here, baby, and you’ve gotta give it credit for that. You know if it’s your thing or not. Like, if you got arrested for cruising a rest stop bathroom in Arizona and liked it when the cops beat the holy fuck out of you when you fought them over your bag of meth, chances are you probably already have this. * * * Free to special cases, $3.00 for everyone else from Zepp, P.O. Box 1174, Tallahassee, FL  32302-1174

	GOREGASM #2 It’s been a little while, but Australian art duo S.C.A.R. has released another portfolio of graphically disturbing and arousing artwork. A collection of explicitly detailed drawings (and a painting or two) largely picturing women as bestial tyrants or as victims of rapacious creatures, it’s obvious that these works are viciously anti-PC. But instead of reveling in misogyny many of these panels are in fact aimed directly at the fascistic feminist censorship front. (And feminist hysterics can go get fucked; half of the S.C.A.R. team is a woman.) Harpies in various guises, from winged demons to Nazi pig bikers and beyond, tear their living male prey apart in a number of gruesome ways while their human counterparts suffer rape and evisceration from anthropomorphic warthogs, gorilla monsters, aliens and more. It’s a feast for the eyes, so long as you’re not on the timid or politically correct side of the art world. * * * $5.00 + postage from S.C.A.R. – www.piranhaquasar.com – P.O. Box 312, Greenacre, NSW 2190, Australia

	HAPPY #3: ZIRKUS - By Josh Simmons Hot DAMN! Following up both his most excellent Happy #2 and the incredible Zirkus New Orleans, non-stop comic hurler Josh Simmons puts the best of both together for Happy #3: Zirkus (or Happy: Zirkus (#3)). In this collision of comix worlds our narrator accompanies the Know Nothing Family Zirkus ZideZhow (stars of the aforementioned Zirkus New Orleans) and the End of the World Cirkus as they join forces to tour the East Coast. And what an ensemble it is! Witness bizarre proceedings on every page: “Elephant in the Audobon!” “Tall-Bike Jousting!” “Frikkin’ Sasquatch on the Loose!” “Nostril Dumb-Ass!” “Satan John!” (“I am Satan! I am a genuine freak of nature!”) “The Unbelievable Human Cannonball!” The one and only “BLAIR!” “All-Day Ass!” “Tapeball!” The great new gameshow “What’s Up Your Ass?!” And beware the horrible attentions of “Mr. Pouty-Face!” Plus flaming swords, pie fights, plain old fights, dumpster-diving, puppets, costumes, tattoos, a kidney infection, and lots & lots of humpy. Josh’s detailed and observant comix panels capture his alternating enthrallment and disgust with the proceedings, as the situation constantly flip-flops between wild good times and gutter-punk blues and the constant-on-the-road shenanigans gradually wear him down. And this is only part one! Next issue promises New York City, and you know that’s gonna be a trip. “What stupid fun.” * * * * $3.50 + age statement from Top Shelf Productions – P.O. Box 1282, Marietta, GA, 30061-1282

	HAPPY #4: FEMALE - By Josh Simmons Break out that smile-box, fucker, ‘cause it’s time once again to get good and fucking HAPPY! Issue four of Josh Simmons’ comix excursion jumps right in and picks up where last issue left off, on tour with the indescribable Zirkus (indescribable, that is, were it not for Simmons’ most capable renderings). After a brief stopover at PA’s hippie Eden of Cherrymont Farm, the Zirkus trucks it on into NYC’s meat-packing district for a frustrating gay night club show, then goes to Brooklyn for a wilder performance that includes nudity, Black Santa, pussylips of steel, the Vagina Monster, enema cereal, and auto-fellatio. There’s a climactic finale, and “At that point I’d had my fill of Cirkus, so I left . . .” There follows a portfolio of “Scary Monsters” (“Rar.”); the theme of the issue, “Female – An Ode,” appreciates said sex for all of their utter femaleness; and what might be considered a public service announcement regarding the dangers of . . . dental floss. It’s all quite enough to make me Happy. Well, except for the fact that this is the last issue. But have no fear, Josh is already working away at his first “silent full-length graphic novel horror tale,” which, having seen a number of Josh’s spooky harder-core underground comix, I can say is sure to kick some mighty, mighty ass. If the fucking dental floss doesn’t kill him first, that is . . . * * * * $3.50 (+ age statement?) from Top Shelf Productions – www.topshelfcomix.com – P.O. Box 1282, Marietta, GA, 30061-1282

	HARDON - By Miguel Angel Martin “100% Pornografia” states the cover, and this disclaimer does not lie. Miguel Angel Martin returns to his 200-proof hardcore roots with this collection of triple-X comix tales, loaded with ultra-graphic panels of ejaculation, anal sex, and “Shitfun.” Piss, shit, and semen are thrown around quite liberally as the rubber-clad contestants romp through nine stories of voluntary degradation, appearing to enjoy it all whether they’re receiving an “Anal Probe,” being serviced by a “Rubber Plumper” or a “Silicon Whore,” “Feltching,” test driving the “Sybian,” or simply getting an old-fashioned “Hand Job.” These full-color pornographic euro-comics manage to be somehow sleazy and classy at the same time, making them ideal fare for both bedside and coffee table. (In Spanish.) * * * * La Factoria de Ideas – www.distrimagen.es

	HEAD CASE # 2 - By Jim Sumii Head Case #2 features another set of Jim Sumii’s surreal and finely line-shaded drawings, replete with sigils and mystic symbolism. Many of these are mirror-image drawings, such as the vaginal “Ascension” and the benevolent “Protection,” but there are also unbalanced visions of purgatory such as “Descent I” and “Descent II.” Like tarot cards for the 21st Century, these images definitely have a place somewhere in your home. * * * * Jim Sumii – www.jimsumii.com – P.O. Box 140696, Boise, ID  83714

	HEAD CASE III - By Jim Sumii More elegant and possibly drug-inspired strange loveliness from the prolific Sumii. Pieces such as “Iosephyne” are simply beautiful, while drawings like “Collage I,” “Communion II” and “The Host” are weird, insectile, and oddly religious. Some of the work contained in this issue reflects Sumii’s comic art more than his other visionary exercises, and a point off for the inclusion of Eddie’s portrait in “Collage IV,” but this is still the best art you’ll see for $2.00. * * * $2.00 from Jim Sumii – www.jimsumii.com – P.O. Box 140696, Boise, ID  83714

	HOAX #1 This excellent comix compendium, available in April from Mental Note Press, begins with “Yolk” by Eleanor Davis, wherein a slacker type encounters some casually eerie synchronicity through party girls and breakfast food in a Carrie McNinch-meets-Peter Bagge kind of style. Karl Kressbach’s “Reality Blvd.: Terminal” is a disturbingly detailed terrorist plague vision conducted in acidic line shading; Nate Neal’s “American Protest” is a mildly Thompson-esque saga of political (in)action (“Sweet fuckery!”) with the odd endnote of independent wealth being the only way out; “Cannibalism – A Treatise on a Misunderstood Behavior” by Lydia Gregg examines the activity through natural science-style drawings and what some may see as an unnerving suggestion; and then there’s “Captured On a Petridish” by Mitch Hess. The inside covers feature Hoax Spring Calendars, sprinkled with assassinations, dictators, massacres and disasters, and the front covers feature a nice interweaving of storylines in almost boardgame fashion. A very impressive first issue, here’s hoping new issues see an even greater expansion in page count and contributors. * * * * $2.95 from Mental Note Press – mentalnotepress@hotmail.com – P.O. Box 230322, Grand Rapids, MI, 49523

	HOSTILE CITY OR BUST - By Phil Irwin It’s a minor American nightmare, moving. Try to pack the family and a lifetime of crap into a trailer and head out cross-country, and you’re asking for a stressor the size of divorce or major surgery. And on a cautionary yet ultimately triumphant note, Hostile City or Bust brings forth the saga of the Irwin family (the Whiskey Rebel himself, wife Marla, and son Elvis) and their Eastbound escape from the self-righteous hidey-hole of Portland, Oregon, to the one and only Hostile City, U.S.A. (Philadelphia, PA). Defying fair-weather friends, ill advice, and even death itself at times, Irwin and family scope out the new homeland, box up the household, unload the cats, and set out in the “War Wagon” for a new life in the cheesesteak capitol of the world. And you can literally feel Irwin’s muscles tense and his nerves twitch as he deals with travel and accomodation aggravations, both real and imagined, each and every mile of the way. Every hassle and hazard conquered seems to lead only to an exponentially greater series of grievous encounters, or at least the expectation of such, as Irwin tests the limits of vehicular tolerance and human endurance with a running stream of bitching and grieving that reaches epically comedic proportions. Braving narrow wind-swept bridges, tornadoes, flaming tires, mountains, and national monuments, the War Wagon creeps across the nation underneath the speed limit as the family deals with beershits, crowds, unscrupulous servicepeople, stress, and even the infamous disappearing pizza. And after facing countless tiny terrors the Irwins reach South Philly only to have to deal with the grief of storage, new native customs, home rental, shifty employers, and Catholic prejudice. One thing and one thing only helps the Whiskey Rebel stay the course: booze, and plenty of it. “Ah, the power of positive drinking!” And cursing, of course. Lots of cursing. But it ain’t all a bad time, as Irwin’s honesty and humor conveys all of the journey’s small victories and comforts to the reader as well, and the book ends with everything working out better than expected, along with a positive note about the noble pioneer spirit. At 105 pages Hostile City or Bust is a much more moderate and approachable length than Irwin’s previous Jobjumper (hell, I took this in to the crapper to read and actually came out and finished the entire thing in a sitting), and while it may be a little slim for twelve bucks it’s most definitely a quick and engaging read. Just don’t pick it up right before your next move . . . * * * $12.00 from Steel Cage Books - www.steelcagerecords.com - P.O. Box 29247, Philadelphia, PA, 19125

	HUMAN DOG POUND #3 - By D. Rat Donzo’s really been pounding away at the Human Dog Pound, as not only is this third issue fresh off the copier but a fourth is already underway. Lots more bold bad acid-inspired comix of Nazi sex gore here, as dismemberment, Manson girl zombies, dog-fuckers, the Ivan Brunetti-inspired “Piece of Shit,” the misanthropic “Piggy,” and a horny-ass “Rockin’ Jesus” all trip across these pages. Also more prevalent in this issues are the text and collage sections, featuring not only loads of ads and excerpts from “men’s magazines” (you know the kind) but even a lengthy article on Aussie sex slave killers David and Catherine Birnie. Still about as hardcore and underground as you’re going to be able to find most places, if you liked Boiled Angel you’re gonna dig HDP for sure. * * * $4.00 (+ age statement & postage?) from D. Rat - P.O. Box 1662, West Perth, WA 6872, Australia

	HUMAN DOG POUND #4 - By D. Rat Sick Aussie fuck D. Rat is at ‘er again, slinging out another hate-filled eruption of comix & true crime. “Blunder Town” is fulla freaks and murders, there’s a centerpiece board game called “FUCK I’m Dead!” and pages o’ the likes of bugs eatin’ dead bodies, sasquatch murders, Mau Mau monkey pin-ups (YES!), and just plain crazed psycho shit like burning circuses and nekkid zombie chick rock ‘n rollers. Oh yeah, and newsclippings of violent mayhem, sexual miscreants, and other monkey business. And what can I say, but I LIKE IT! It is most definitely “For Mature Readers” however, so careful lest you end up like the little girl on the cover. “Hey Fucko!” (Donzo’s also the guitarist for Australian punk ensemble The Homicides, so keep posted for a review of their CD here in the Audio section of Paniscus Revue.) * * * * $4.00 (+ age statement & postage?) from D. Rat - P.O. Box 1662, West Perth, WA 6872, Australia

	THE HUNGOVER GOURMET #9, #9, #9 After a brief but heartfelt ode to a deceased family member, The Hungover Gourmet dives into the Philly Cheesesteak Experience with great gusto. Touring through the city of Philadelphia and sampling the fare of no fewer than five different cheesesteak establishments in one day, the Gourmet and crew weigh in (literally) with their opinions. Somewhat surprisingly, a few of the more well-known eateries don’t rate as high as their hype. (There’s also a mention of “The McDonald’s ‘Philly Style’ Cheesesteak Sandwich;” Thumbs down, says Uncle Cheesesteak Pants!) Davida Gypsy Brier looks at the Trader Vic’s phenomenon (arr! not again!), William Patrick Tandy drinks deeply from the high-proof legacy of Nelson’s Blood (arr!), your own humble narrator visits Roscoe’s House of Chicken ‘n Waffles, Fidge Dextro gives us “Of Mice & Mental Problems: The Incredible Story of B’s Barbecue & Diner” (moral of the story: crack and ‘cue don’t mix), Bill Landis and Michelle Clifford continue their daring “Remembrances of Meals Past” along “Filthy 14th Street,” and even Vincent Price gets in on the action. Plus “Restaurant Views and Reviews,” drop-ins at a number of thrift shops and breweries in Quebec, recipes and whatnot. It’s appetizer, entrée and aperitif all rolled into one, and it’s making me damn hungry. Gotta go! * * * * $3.00 from Dan Taylor – www.hungovergourmet.com – P.O. Box 5531, Lutherville, MD, 21094-5531

	THE HUNGOVER GOURMET #10 The cover story to The Hungover Gourmet’s milestone tenth issue is Baltimore’s Crabcake Eating Champion of the World contest – and damn if that doesn’t look like a good time, crabcakes, Natty Boh and all. A portion of the issue is also devoted to one of America’s favorite foods, the hamburger, with Dan Taylor seeking the grail of the greatest MTB (multi-tiered burger), Matt Holdaway reporting on “The Secret Society of In-N-Out Burger,” and Michelle Clifford recalling Harlem’s colorful White Castle on 125th St. There are loads of food, drink and restaurant reviews (including Jackie Chan’s Jackie’s Kitchen), a couple of liqueur recipes, and even a “Long Beach Pork Roundup” by yours truly. If it doesn’t all just make you hungry as hell, well, you’ve got an eating disorder, buddy. Like the cover says, it’s CRAB-TACULAR! * * * * $3.00 from Dan Taylor – www.hungovergourmet.com – P.O. Box 5531, Lutherville, MD  21094-5531

	THE HUNGOVER GOURMET #11 Well, it’s the last hangover for THG – at least in hard copy form. The zine ideal for both bathroom and kitchen is hanging it up after years of independent publishing. Not to worry though, there will still be loads of “Food, Drink, Travel & Fun” online at www.hungovergourmet.com. But for now we have this “Super Sized Final Issue,” weighing in at 44 half-size pages predominantly devoted to the secret ingredient this time around, coffee. (And it’s antithesis, alcohol: “The Beer Snob” checks in, and there’s the stomach-screwing review, “Is Bud Chelada the Worst. Drink. Ever?”) A.J. Michel gives us ten good reasons why Dunkin’ Donuts is superior to Starbucks; there’s an ode to Wawa Coffee by W.P. Tandy; Tim Miller provides “A Few Notes on the History of Coffee”; and there are tales of drinking coffee in Italy, New Orleans, and Melbourne. It’s not all a love affair with the bitter black however: Dara Bujon’s “Juan Valdez is No Friend of Mine” makes that quite clear, as does Tim Hinley’s “Coffee Hell: I’m in the Wrong Place!” (Pacific Northwest); Bob Sheairs “Slice of Life” turns a diner retrospective into a bitter break-up tale; and there’s a rather gross article on coffee enemas contributed by yours truly. For added variety the issue ends with Louis Fowler’s alternately hilarious and horrifying piece “Stupid Size Me,” in which he spends a week on a $20.00 budget eating nothing but food scavenged from Big Lots. With detailed descriptions of some of the taste sensations found, many of the combinations he forced himself to sit through just do not sound good: “Day One: Lunch: Jumex Strawberry Banana Nectar ($0.25); Armour Honey Mustard Flavor Vienna Sausage ($0.50).” I think I can actually taste that; and I’d rather have coffee. So check it out, ‘While supplies last,’ and then go online and check it out some more. * * * $3.00 from Dan Taylor – www.hungovergourmet.com – P.O. Box 5531, Lutherville, MD  21094-5531

	INSIDE ARTZINE #10.5 Without question the best issue of Inside yet, the “Terror” issue easily elevates this publication to the status of one of the best international anthologies of underground artwork on the planet. A collection of art, writing, collage, posters, toys and other wonderfully aberrant creativity, this glossy full-color A4 publication includes artists from seven nations: Mike Bohatch contributes the visceral collage “The Sentinel” as well as “The Hunters,” a bloody piece reminiscent of Rev. Steven Johnson Leyba’s work; Olger creates a most timely Playmobil figure; mxnihil’s “Mensch-Sein” is a hellish reincarnation of Bosch (he also crafts an excellent occult-fascist collage poster “All Else is Error); Mike Diana remembers 9/11 in “Massacre”; Denis Grrr contributes one of his always amazing works; publisher Jenz puts together an awesome parody of eBay, “oBey”; Dutch comix artist Marcel Ruijters draws up a parade of equally laughable dictators; Michael Hutter paints a portrait akin to genital mutation; Paul Komoda designs the fucking amazing “Order of Dagon”; and of course there’s more. Comes complete with contact addresses and a list of terror-related Websites. Much of the writing is in German, but the imagery alone is enough to make this worth owning. It’s stunning, inspiring and thought-provoking work, and the world needs more of it. * * * * * $5.00 (+ postage?) from Inside Artzine – www.inside-artzine.de – P.O. Box 2266, D-54212 Trier, Germany

	INSIDE artzine #11 The awesome INSIDE is back with a massive full-color collection of international underground artwork. Some of the wonders inside this issue: hallucinatory surrealism from Naoto Hattori, an erotic grotesque by Karl Persson, an illustrated interview with artist Michael Hutter, mythical imagery by Marcel Ruijters, black & white acid etching by Zeke & Monobrain, tattooed mummies in “Ink Means Eternity,” a gorgeously twisted painting by Fabrice Lavollay, spooky photo-collage by Mike Bohatch, sweet sickness from Navette, black, white & red wildness by Kapreles…and the list goes on. There’s even a little work in here by yours truly. Packed alongside the riveting artwork are reviews, writing (in both English and German) and smaller illustrations, all making for a most well-rounded publication. With a cover price of four euros I’m not sure what the exchange rate or postage is, but drop editor Jenz a line at jenz@inside-artzine.de and find out. * * * * INSIDE artzine – www.inside-artzine.de – P.O. Box 2266, D-54212 Trier, Germany

	THE JOHN PROJECT From Cinema Sewer maestro Robin Bougie comes this unique one-shot reality zine, The John Project. Essentially this is a look into the minds of men who engage prostitutes, told in their own words. The johns talk about what they’re looking for and why, as well as how they came to travel along the road of those employed in the world’s oldest profession. As might be expected, the stories vary; some johns like getting burned with lighted cigarettes, some like doing the rough stuff themselves (“I very much enjoy the sounds of a girl being abused.” – John Smith), and some like the piss and shit games. The distinctions between escorts and streetwalkers are explored, a lot of ground is covered, and needless to say, there are some interesting tales told here. It’s all illustrated with drawings “based on actual photos of sex workers plying their trade in their working environment” by Bougie himself. Very honest, eye-opening material that not everyone is personally acquainted with, The John Project is very intimately educational in an underground sort of way. And if you like this, check out Bougie’s other interview zines, The Incest Project and The Ex Revenge Project. * * * $4.00 + age statement from Robin Bougie – www.cinemasewer.com - #320-440 East 5th Ave., Vancouver, BC, V5T-1N5, Canada

	THE MATCH! #99 Warnings of Statism replacing religion, increasingly restrictive penalties being levied by federal regulators, human gene experimentation, and government access to store loyalty/shopping club card records abound in this 99th issue of the “Journal of Ethical Anarchism.” And all of that is just in publisher Fred Woodworth’s editorial! Immediately following this, bullshit is called and abuses reported throughout numerous columns, briefs, and articles (including the noteworthy “Crap-Detection Department” and “Who the Police Beat”), while additional contributors provide the frightening and depressing “Notebook of a Medical Discard” (J.V. Langdon), a look at R.R. Bowker’s monopoly over the ISBN (International Standard Book Number) by Travis Klein, “The True Story of the Circle-A” by Amedeo Bertolo, and part one of “An Anarchist Looks at Buddhism and Ethics” by Paul Roasberry. There are also reviews of “Publications Received” and the “World’s Largest Letter Column” (24 pages this issue), all with appropriate editorial comment. As usual, an intense and sobering look at the state of affairs in “The Land of the Free.” Ironically, one of the only free things left in America is The Match!, and more ironic still is the fact that it’s one of the few things actually worth paying for. * * * * Free / cash or stamps donation from Fred Woodworth - P.O. Box 3012, Tucson, AZ, 85702

	MY FAT IRISH ASS! #(-)8 It’s irreverent as hell, and in my book that makes it ALL RIGHT. The first feature is, appropriately enough, “Inappropriate Remarks 101” in which noted dignitaries and celebrities dispense age-old wisdom (Mother Theresa on “Tactful Evasion”: “Look, I’d like to help you guys out, but I’m really busy right now. You’ll just have to find someone else to help you fuck your dead mother.”). My Fat Irish Ass! also gleefully engages in the sport of “The Reverse Nigerian E-Mail Scam,” in which Colonel Doctor Rufus T. Firefly makes Burkina Faso’s Adama Moulin run around in increasingly ridiculous circles chasing the American dollar, presents the increasingly ridiculous original comic strip “Ace McTilopolous – King of the Piraeus Docks” while also fucking with “!Family Funnies!” in the rearrangement of “Drugwood Junkstead, White-Collar Heroin Addict” and some other ‘funny pages,’ and discusses “Pundits I Have Loathed” (fuck you, Bob “Old Boy” Woodward!). I’ll tell ya, it all makes for mighty good reading when your fat Irish ass is sitting on the shitter. And it is cheaper than toilet paper… * * * $2.00 from P.O. Box 65391, Washington, DC  20035

	NDHL Returning to his roots, art wizard Jim Sumii here brings us another portfolio of surreal drawings and sigils. Created with an alchemical mindset, NDHL is, bluntly speaking, full of trippy shit; faces blending into one another, subtle hints of genital protrusion, archetypal alien imagery and angelic script all combine in psychedelic panels of strange and beautiful vision. My favorite: easily the Lovecraftian “Communion with the Beast.” Hail Sumii! * * * * Fecus Publications – P.O. Box 140696, Boise, ID  83714

	NIGHT MOVES “The first and last issue ever” of this Bay Area panic-/math-/art-/prog- rock zine, introduced by a full-color cover of none other than a dead Johnny Carson. (Well, he’s dead now, anyway.) And Night Moves is just chock-full-o’-shit: action-packed show reviews (Cock E.S.P.) and interviews (7000 Dying Rats, musician and “character” Nandor Nevi), articles on movements like “homecore” and panic rock, and “Monoshock, Motherfucker!” (from Isla Vista to idolatry; who knew?). Plus randomness like a porn story/interview, the whacked bedtime tale “Wizard,” and a band list briefly describing several obscure combos (some of which really sound pretty fucking odd and intriguing). There’s also some really bad writing in here – not consistently, but in parts that do stand out. Halfwit pothead film & album reviews (“Like a cross between Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead on acid…”), spots of gonzo gone wrong, that sort of thing. But as there’s so much other material in here chances are good you’ll get your question mark’s worth out of this. That is if this is even still available; I think Night Moves was published back in ’02 or ’03, but I just got mine a while ago and it does seem to have the kind of material in it that the kind of people who listen to this kind of music kind of can’t get enough of. As there’s no contact info in here however (this was sent to me by Mr. Will York of A Dangerous Game) I don’t know how many of ‘em are still around; I reckon you’ll find one if you need it. * * * ? from Will York – wwyork@gmail.com

	NO HOPE #4 “Crude, Offensive, Puerile, Unfunny, Unoriginal, Piece of Crap” screams the cover; inside we’re met with satirical kiddie icon Mr. Penis (including a Mr. Penis Game centerspread!), the anally fixated Norman Lovelace, the life cycle of The Man In the Box, condensed children’s fable “The Short Horrible Life of Cedric Spicksly,” Willy World (you know), Nasal Laughs, a complex fully-illustrated “Horrific Filmography of Freddy Valentine” (be sure to read the footnotes), a hate-filled reminiscence a la Ivan Brunetti of childhood ass-pain Danny Butler, Little Stick Figure Suicides and a whole lot more just plain random weirdness. Dean has a classic underground comix style, something like that of Howard Cruise, with a little Peter Bagge/Jim Blanchard thrown in for good measure. I did kind of hope for a little more wretched filth from a mag with the previously-mentioned masthead (you just can’t get crude, offensive and puerile enough for me) and a cover picture of a stinking turd awakening amidst empty cider cans and a copy of Bukowski’s Tales of Ordinary Madness, but I really cannot complain; more people should be publishing independent underground comix like this (see review of Sleazy Slice posted this same date). “Oh No!! Here come the Pooga Pooga Men…” * * * * $3.00 (throw in some money for postage, would ya?) from Jason Dean – deanjason143@aol.com – 5 St. Dials Rd., Old Cwmbran, Cwmbran, Gwent NP44 3AN, UK

	PICK YOUR POISON #4 A fat (62 page) autobiographical digest detailing Nate’s immersion in the modern-day Purgatory that is temp work. And whether you’re a temp hump yourself or not, it’s easy to identify with these stories of job-hopping through different but equally undesirable positions. The gas station convenience store, ice cream company, shampoo factory, food co., law office, telemarketer, mail room, and pizza place, along with the cretinous co-workers and supervisors that inhabit such places, all get ample coverage. (As does a brief gig dealing weed, apparently neither as fun or easy as it might seem.) With a whole lot of drinking and pot-smoking in between, and no shortage of funny/horror stories from friends and associates, it all makes for a set of pretty absurd and amusing anecdotes. Apparently this issue of Pick Your Poison breaks with its own tradition somewhat, as in the editorial Nate says “the first three issues mostly were collections of drunken recollections and ridiculous juvenile delinquency tales,” but I found it a damn good read anyway. I can picture the paperback collection even now . . . * * * $2.00 from Nate Gangelhoff – www.pickyourpoison.net – P.O. Box 8995, Minneapolis, MN, 55408

	RABBITHEAD - By Rebecca Dart There must be something in the air up Vancouver way; well maybe it’s the water. Or the weed . . . In any case, RabbitHead is an amazing one-woman production that can most accurately and honestly be described as “a trip.” Within a unique interlinking flowchart format (“My main objective with this piece was to create a comic that could only be a comic; it can’t be translated into any other form,” says Rebecca by way of introduction. “Which is the beauty of comics: the manipulation of time and space.”) a truly wonderful (and there’s a word I don’t use very often) story takes place that details the rich and varied nature of the cycle of life. We begin with RabbitHead, a female adventurer with, yes, the head of a rabbit, filling in a nameless grave before riding away through a post-apocalyptic wonderland on her worm-headed steed. Despite her noble bearing RabbitHead is not appreciated in her own time, and throughout an increasingly violent and hallucinogenic series of events she eventually returns to . . . well I can’t really say withough somehow spoiling the story. (Despite the pure genius of the production the conclusion at first put me off, but in rereading RabbitHead it became clear that this finale closed the saga so perfectly that to have sealed the story any other way would have been an injustice.) Along the way each of RabbitHead’s actions causes an unusual series of reactions, each of  which in turn generates its own additional chain of events, all unfolding simultaneously. The strange protagonists of these sidelines carry out miniature storylines of their own, often meeting and eating one another in a potentially endless array of encounters that literally give life to the central story. Throughout the entire tale Rebecca continually comes up with an unceasing array of inventive touches, creatures, and scenarios, many of which are so well-rendered (in an independent comix meets sick & twisted animation style of artistry) that I often found myself forgetting the story and pausing just to appreciate the artwork. A great and original piece of work, this, and the good news is that although this copy is from an earlier more limited independent press run I understand that RabbitHead has recently been picked up by another publishing company, which means that it should soon be making its way onto many finer shelves throughout North America. Where you will find it and gladly buy it. * * * * $5.00 from Minds Eye Comics - mindseyecomics@telus.net - #320-440 E. 5th, Vancouver, B.C., V5T-IN5, Canada

New Audio Reviews	New Video Reviews	Paniscus Revue #11