Intermittens Presents: XX and other works

[Placid Dingo]

So this is a chance to hit me with

- I think a better order would be...

- I'd rather be attributed as...

- Holy fuck, there's a legal issue...

- Holy shit, I just has a cool idea...

- Dingo, you're a sexy beast, let's...

And so on.

[Cramulus]

fuckin awesome

printed it out, I'll have a look at lunch

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I think it looks great! I'll try to whip out a bio for myself and maybe some other random spag this weekend. I think I may have already done one for someone?

[Cramulus]

I think it looks great! You have a good mix of different types of writing. They're spaced out well, so it doesn't get too monotonous reading 4 poems in a row, then 4 rants in a row, etc.

My one word of warning would be to square out the permissions before you go to print. A copyright page is necessary, because people have different levels of protection for their work. I'm not taking any special precautions with my stuff (you can mark it Creative Commons or Public Domain or whatever the magazine is using). But Roger and Cain and Nigel often have different licenses for their stuff. And I'm not sure about the other authors. May want to check the kopyleft thread.

[Placid Dingo]

Yeah we need intro and bios before finalizing; this is just a copy to get feedback.

Copyright page was going to basically say: all used with permission, contact author for specific associated rights.

I haven't got any bios off you yet Nigel.

[Telarus]

You know PopJellyfish?

[Placid Dingo]

No but his work is listed as (k) in the copyleft images. Cover ideas are tentative at this stage too. If you have contact with him pm me so I can confirm an ok.

[Telarus]

Ha, forgot he posted here for a bit. If it was an image posted by him here, then it's fine.


Do you need help laying out the title page?

[Placid Dingo]

Ha, forgot he posted here for a bit. If it was an image posted by him here, then it's fine.


Do you need help laying out the title page?

Yes! That would be brilliant! Thank you.

Hit me here or PM me with any questions.

[Telarus]

Sure, what are your first impressions for the cover page. Mine would be to zoom the image until it bleeds "off the page" I.E. no white border) and then start laying out title and credits from there....

[Placid Dingo]

Sure, what are your first impressions for the cover page. Mine would be to zoom the image until it bleeds "off the page" I.E. no white border) and then start laying out title and credits from there....

Design in mind was a image with little words 'intermittens presents...' up the top, and some mittens. Then fairly big writing 'The fail whale apocalypse' (on top, or on the left) big words 'and other stories (opposite side).

Making the cover in google docs seems a bad idea. Probably it'll be better to have a high quality image file I can make the full size of a page, then save the whole as a PDF.

[Dimocritus]

Hrmm, link just takes me to a log in page, do I need an account to view? Either way, very happy this is back in motion. Can't wait to see it.

Who wants a bio written by Cuddlefish? I can write a few.

[Placid Dingo]

You may need a google account.

I'd willingly grab a bio from you.

[Triple Zero]

I wanna DIMOBIO! CAN I HAZ?

[BadBeast]

If you're still open to submissions, and you want bio pieces, you're welcome to use this, from the "Discordians Anonymous" thread

My name is BadBeast, and I'm a Discordian.
I get pissed off when people say "Discordianism is a choice"  that we somehow make, just to be morally repugnant to
those who choose to be ruled by their fear.
Just because we don't fit some mythical 'norm' that they think is the rock of all things, some bit of moral flotsam they all cling to, in their valiant fight against having some kind of original thought.
Anyway,  I was always a Discordian. Born a Discordian. I know this now. I can see that many of the adults to whom my care was entrusted, when I was a child could sense this 'otherness' too.  Only back then, no-one had even heard the term 'Discordian'.
So I was diagnosed at school, first as a  'Troublemaker' then as a 'Clown', and by
the time my formal education was drawing to a close, a 'Infuriating little fuck'.

Of course,  I was into rebelling against stuff, but all the usual things kids rebelled against, parental sanction, punitive schoolwork, were beneath my consideration.
Oh, It was expedient to pay some kind of lip sevice to the rules, so this I did, without any trace of resentment. Then totally dismissed them.
By the time I was 12, I knew I was more intelligent than most of my Teachers. If this sounds like arrogance, then it probably is.  But at 12, you are constantly being told that you are wrong, and that adults were always right. So for a while, I entertained the thought that there was something wrong with my cognitive process. I really did.
Almost had me believing it too. If it wasn't for their desperate need to be right,
without putting forward any kind of supporting argument, I might have gone on beleiving. (But probably not) 
 
By the time I was 14, some of the brighter Teachers also began to suspect that I was more intelligent than them. Rather than encourage my often tangental derailing of their boring lessons, this realisation made them hostile, frustrated, and resentful,
as if I was doing it, just to undermine their illusion of control. (Which, by that time, I probably was)
I would watch them interact with each other. Most of my Teachers were hopeless at  any kind of Adult relationships. They treated everyone as if they were children.  Which generally leaves them a very small demographic from which to attempt to coax any kind of social life. Basically, other Teachers. Who were generally equally as hopeless at peer group dynamics as they were. 
 
I began to start bullying people at school. Not other kids though. Well, not very often. I bullied Teachers. More specifically, I bullied bad Teachers. The ones who delighted in creating an atmosphere of terror in their 11 year old classes as a tactic to squash any hope of rebellion for the next 5 years.
They didn't like me much. I was disruptive in class. Disagreeing with their
curriculum. Pretending not to grasp some of the easier concepts they were trying to teach. Like simple tropisms in plants and insects. Or deliberately getting Photosynthesis back to front. Every time.

Letting them almost get through an entire experiment demonstrating simple polymer chains, and molecular bonding, before 'accidently' setting fire to a pile of textbooks, with a carelessly close Bunsen burner,
or (with one particularly anally retentive Technical Drawing Teacher) burgling his classroom at lunchtime, and ensuring that there were no 4H Pencils for the lesson,
only 2B's, that had all had some 'percussive adjustment' in order to break the leads,
thus ensuring maximum disruption during his lesson. I would also knock dents in the straight edges of all the T Squares, to deliberately minimise the chances of anyone actually producing a straight line for the whole term of twice weekly double lessons.

He was obsessive / compulsive on tidyness, straightness, and dirt. The first year Pupils were all made to go through some kind of military inspection, for tied shoelaces, and clean hands before he would let them in the classroom, that's how much of a martinet he was. So I liked to make sure there were only soft leaded, smudgy, 2B Pencils in his cupboards. I'd also Blunt all the compasses tips, so they skidded across pristine white sheets of crisp, A4 125gsm wove cartridge paper.
   
Once, I locked him in his supply cupboard at the end of a Lesson. For three hours.
He thought the wind had blown the door shut.
He was eventually asked to take early retirement, after his habit of nipping off to the Rabbits shed for a nip of Bells Whisky, every 20 minutes was discovered.  By 2.30pm each day, he become a  'Drunken old Perv'.  Which led to him getting a serious grope habit going with the fourth year girls who took care of the Rabbits. Dirty old fucker.
He may well have flown a Hurricane in WWII, but he was still a gropy, sadistic old bastard, so I took delight in fucking with him.

I could spend the whole of any lesson time, deliberately and systematically
raeping their composure, their discipline, and their ability to look at a sea of childrens faces every morning, without feeling like a Stag, brought to bay by a pack of  rabid, monstrous goblins. I really felt sorry for some of them, all I was doing, really, was seeing how good they were at their jobs, then concentrating on their weak points, Like how to keep any semblance of control over 30 bored kids, when there's an unmedicated Discordian, covertly in control of their lessons.
Especially as I would turn in exemplary homework (if I could be bothered at all)  and Ace any tests or exams.

My report from my Art Teacher.

"BadBeast wastes time and materials, and has failed to put any effort or care into his work. Has no concentration, of aptitude in this subject Very poor show"

The Bitch!
I thought I was really trying hard in Art, but the Teacher was such a smoking hot foxy peach of a thing, all jiggly tits, low cut tops, and legs that went on for miles, that it was all any boy could do to take his eyes off her slinky, slutty, flesh for even a moment. She was burned into the back of my retinas like a stroboscopic fap mag,
what's more, she knew exactly what effect she was having on the boys, and lapped up every minute of it. Then had the brass neck to say I wasn't putting in the effort.  Fucking Troll!

Anyway, by the end, I think I'd been instrumental in at least three Teachers having to take time off for nervous exhaustion. I was trying to help them become better Teachers, I can see that now, maybe I unconsciously set the bar too high for them.
I look back and sometimes feel that I failed them in some way!  Maybe I could have
eased up on the pressure a little, but hey, I was only a kid, Goddamnit!   
I didn't realise the importance of what I was supposed to be doing, and must have accidently at least half of my Teachers without even trying!
The pressure of trying to educate these fools, was such a stress on me, that I spent most  of my last Summer skiving off with the cool Punk Girls, sniffing glue, drinking scrumpy, and shagging around like a dog with two dicks.  Quite an education in itself, that was.
But all in all, I thoroughly enjoyed School.   

More later if anyone gives  a rats arse, on "How I learned to ride roughshod over the forces of Law 'n' Order,  subsume bucketfuls of LSD and eventually learned to love Lady Eris, and embrace her lulzy Discord.