The Fish
for 17 January 2000. Updated every WEEKDAY.
 
Suck Staff
 

Joey Anuff
Joey Anuff
Editor in Chief

 

[Tim Cavanaugh]
Tim Cavanaugh
Special Guest Editor

 

Terry Colon
Terry Colon
Art Director

 

Heather
Havrilesky
Heather Havrilesky
Senior Editor

 

[Copy Edit]
Erica Gies
&
Merrill Gillaspy

Copy Editors

 

[Phillip Bailey]
Phillip Bailey
Production Editor








	
Suck Alumni
Suck Alumni Text
 

Carl Steadman
Carl Steadman
Co-Founder

 

Ana Marie
Cox
Ana Marie Cox
Executive Editor

 

Sean (Duuuuude)
Welch
Sean Welch
Suckgineer

 

Owen Thomas
Owen Thomas
Copy Editor

 


T. Jay Fowler
Production Manager
& Ass Kicker

 

[yes, it's
a plunger. i'll l
eave the rest up to your imagination ... ]
Erin Coull
Production Manager

 

Monte
Goode
Monte Goode
Ghost in the Machine

 

Matt Beer
Matt Beer
Development Manager

 

[Brian
Forsyth, " we're just spanning time "]
Brian Forsyth
Production Editor
& Pool Monitor

 

[the fixin'
pixie... ]
Emily Hobson
Production Manager
& Rhythm Guitar

 

[Ian
Connelly]
Ian Connelly
Marketing Manager



Live and Let Die

Hey Slot,

You must really hate this
Apted guy. What gives? And
who cares?

Richard Banks

<richard.banks@cpa.state.tx.us>

Evidently you don't.

It's not that I hate Apted or
anything — after all, can
anyone really work up
anything as strong as hatred
for the kind of person who
makes movies like Continental
Divide, Firstborn,
and Nell?
I just thought it was about
time someone underlined the
similarities between the Bond
films and the Up documen-
taries. The burden of
doing that fell to me, and if
I've replicated the burden-
some feeling with which
Apted imbued TWINE and 42
Up,
I sincerely apologize to you,
Richard.

I wish I could give you back
the time you wasted reading
my piece, but I can't do that
anymore than the makers of
TWINE can give you back the
time you spent watching that,
if you did. But you'll be OK.

Slotcar Hatebath
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Trying to imbue your readers
with the same sense of tedium
that you attributed to The
World Is Not Enough,
etc.,
isn't generally Suck's style.

In the sprawling diatribes
that Suck is renowned for, a
generous sprinkling of
hyperlinks to the odd and
pertinent helps keep me
interested in the diatribe
content. I think your
hyperlink ratio was
substandard and your
unwavering dedication to such
a limited point was
unenviable.

But I always like the
pictures. :)

Adam Chaput

<lunacy@freewwweb.com>

After the disappointment you
must've felt by the
millennial rollover's lack of
mayhem, did you really think
a piece on James Bond movies
and British documentary
filmmaking would restore the
oomph? We at Suck knew you'd
be busy getting back to your
lives after the tedium of the
holidays and didn't want to
add to the burden by stuffing
the Apted piece full of links
as if it were a Christmas
turkey. But maybe it's better
not to bring up turkeys.

Slotcar Hatebath
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Filler

Subject: Dead can dance but
deadheads ...

C'mon, do you really think
that "fans" of Dead Can Dance
music dance better than
whirling dervish hippies? I
appreciate the music of both
of these bands and kinda
picture the "... Can Dance"
crowd doing pretty much the
same moves as Jerry's kids.

Fare thee well.

Daniel Corvino
Trenton, New Jersey
<DANCORV@aol.com>

You just had to go and bring
the handicapped into this,
didn't you?

I stand behind my original
assertion. Sure, goths don't
dance so damn well. But no
one dances as badly as
deadheads. They always look
like they're trying to
wriggle themselves out of one
of those really skinny
sleeping bags. Man, I hate
those really skinny sleeping
bags. As if anyone would want
to keep their legs right next
to each other all night. What
a curse!

I also hate hacky-sack. What
an annoying game. I would
never play it, personally,
because I have no foot-eye
coordination. But most of all
I dislike watching people
play it. Especially when
they're trying to play it
"with style." You know what I
mean. I also dislike watching
people play "Tangled Up in
Blue." Particularly with one
of those plastic Yamaha
guitars, particularly with
one foot on the coffee table,
particularly with a
faux-scratchy voice in the
middle of an otherwise OK
party with a faux-sincere
look on their face,
particularly when they insist
on looking you right in the
eye
and singing right at you.

Greg Carter is to blame for
most of this stuff. Are you
happy now, Greg? Are you?

Anyway, rah rah to Trenton,
New Jersey. Trenton makes;
the world takes!

Polly
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Dear Polly,

I'm getting sick of having to
pretend I have a positive
attitude and forcing smiles
toward my fellow co-workers.
The only time they bug me is
when they have a problem. Why
is this so?

Disgruntled Employee

It's a bummer working with
other people, isn't it? I,
for one, hate it, as is well
documented in three years of
Filler. I particularly
disliked working with Owen
Thomas, who not only bugged
me when he had a problem but
also bugged me when he had
something totally unimportant
to say, something that had
no impact on his or my
immediate job duties but
that compromised my ability
to do my job and reduced my
overall job satisfaction
considerably.

Now Owen tries to interrupt
me in the same way via email,
but luckily I have a filter
on my email that sends all
emails from Owen straight
into a very special mailbox.
Let's call it the Owen
mailbox, just to be polite,
but it also serves a more
general purpose, so its
actual name, in accordance
with this more general
function, is Trash.

Anyway, I'm not sure why your
co-workers bug you so much.
Maybe your co-workers are
annoying people, or maybe
you're a real jerk just like
me. Either way, I'd suggest
you tell them to submit their
concerns and problems to you
via email, and then set up
your email filters
accordingly.

Gruntled,

Polly
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Polly,

I stretched, yawned, and read
filler. I crammed down three
glazed doughnuts — not
Krispy Kremes, but we have
one in Arlington — and
drank some water. Then I
wrote these words to YOU. For
crying out loud, "What size
are the guns?"

Nate
Dallas
No dumb Hotmail address

I don't know what that means.
Is that a lyric or some kind
of timely reference I should
know or some kind of a
reference to something I
wrote that I should really
know? I don't know.

I'm glad you're eating
doughnuts, at any rate.

Polly
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Subject: HELP!

Reading your column gives me
insight into the female soul.
It's a lot like vertigo.

Tim Hundsdorfer
<timh@ucar.edu>

Insight into the female soul?
Good god, man. You should
know I have no soul.

But, speaking of females and
vertigo, I was on a bus to
the airport in Newark, New
Jersey, about a week ago, and
there were some high school
girls sitting behind me on
the bus, which was kind of
interesting and slightly
horrifying. They were looking
at photos, and one of them
kept saying, "Every. Single.
One. of Josh's friends are
soooo cute. I mean, all his
friends are totally cute."

This reminded me of this
radio ad for a televised
version of Sweet Valley
High,
in which the kids go on
some kind of a vacation
cruise, and this girl says to
a boy in a very seductive
voice, "I think you're the
hottest guy on the boat."

It used to be so simple, you
know. You just picked the
most attractive person in the
room, and if he didn't like
you, you'd go for the second
most attractive, and so on.
Knowing a "Josh" is
justifiable cause for
celebration, given the
circumstances.

When we got to their
terminal, one of the girls
said, "Are we, like, there?"

Not, like, there,

Polly
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 


Polly, you're wonderful.

Tell your editor we want to
hear more about how you were
a cheerleader.

Kirsten Emmott
<kbemmott@ark.com>

Cool! People like you really
ruin the content around here
for the rest of our readers,
but oh well. Screw them.

The best part about being a
cheerleader was that it got
me a date with a senior when
I was just a sophomore. This
was important, because
everyone in my own grade
remembered how
disconcertingly unsexy I was
in junior high, when my nose
grew to its current size a
full two years before the
rest of my face caught up
with it. In junior high I
also had bad skin, the body
of a pear, and the
personality of a pet rock,
but let's let bygones be
bygones, shall we?

Anyway, cheerleaders
naturally get more booty. You
know, you're wearing a little
baby doll outfit,
essentially, and that really
appeals to teenage boys —
and men, for that matter. Men
love to see women looking
very infantile and sort of
silly and innocent.
Naturally, this is somewhat
disturbing to most
intelligent women. But once
all that feminist rage wears
off and we can barely
remember what Adrienne Rich
was trying to say way back
when, we use this situation
to our advantage by wearing
knee socks and go-go boots
and the occasional pair of
braids and by dressing up as
Catholic schoolgirls for
Halloween.

It's a blatant manipulation,
sure, and it's pretty
unsavory. But if you've never
dressed up as a Catholic
schoolgirl and you'd really
like to snag a man, if only
for a few hours ...

OK, so, I guess my point is:
I'm most definitely NOT
wonderful.

Setting the record straight,

Polly
 
Fish With Letter Icon
 

 The Shit
Fully Committed, Becky Mode, the Cherry Lane Theater, New York, New York
Paris in the Twentieth Century, Jules Verne, Del Rey, 1997
Chow Yun Fat's haircut in Anna and the King
A Comment on Mini-skirts, Thornton Dial
"Leonardo's Grave," Ian Jacks, Granta #67
The Long Swift Sword of Siegfried, directed by Adrian Hoven, 1971
The annual reappearance of cheap clementines in bodegas
The New Meaning of Treason, Rebecca West, Penguin Books, 1985
Five-Card Nancy (a card game played with individual panels of Ernie Bushmiller's comic strip)
The Birthday Party Live 1981-82, Four A.D., 1999
Black Sessions 10/22/98, Belle & Sebastian , (unreleased)
San Lorenzo's Blues, Nuzzle, Troubleman Unlimited, 1999
The Story of Time, exhibition in the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, England
Back of the Big House: The Architecture of Plantation Slavery, John Michael Vlach, University of North Carolina Press, 1993

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