׉?4ׁB!בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://PEp0b8reSt2Xhlsizj_llElLCHmIhwSgINFTxR1-9z0'`׉ 7cassandra://PrYswfmeP5ao5PL39BKdZmC8iAhjMJ3qjZKCepl_sYw[`r׉ 7cassandra://T4u0UwADg84DiI52sGB7PwT1dhRmivAfua1SGRCfy_8"V`׉ 7cassandra://osnyYkJDmn0YxKAisk3otB9xyUEcKsR2IK0pbE6PIngs9͠Xd4YH|Y׈Ed4YH|3׉E׉ 7cassandra://T4u0UwADg84DiI52sGB7PwT1dhRmivAfua1SGRCfy_8"V`d4YH|4d4YH|3בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://h1WLWFSjvYQ_ohQPbvfHZZSynnFJTdf0LhDZHfoBQ0Ad`׉ 7cassandra://ZrvI5okpfQlY5jVMcvLEZVGVfw95UK5aYm5LHUhNlEsl"`r׉ 7cassandra://hJQTtBnL-rA-6RAjMVhn_Iy11UjIb34M1rHieqlxeHU(`׉ 7cassandra://IKTWDFYMSOFsSeEBbQgfPcxUYtxF24x2S0f6P7-y5E8>OPz͠Xd4YH|\טu׉׉ 7cassandra://VApd8aSQxSaZvoKuutTPDZvHKApV9GCqA_3eCyolzAc`׉ 7cassandra://HEGHhvZpIYk84710FXf8wyfUHbUO42bc4PWnD-EN5vkVJ`r׉ 7cassandra://A32_FoxaitMYGa_OluFmajzPw8FU4QqgZ6dgGToXK48`׉ 7cassandra://jZTNXoUTx_uCBqNTJ84c2CvpPNNSu2y02ffqgX7sgaACb͠Xd4YH|]נd4YH|hD p9ׁHhttp://ROBGINSBERG.COMׁ ׁ Јנd4YH|g" 9ׁH http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACTׁ ׁ Јנd4YH|fu̧ 9ׁHhttp://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOPׁ ׁ Јנd4YH|eH 9ׁH$http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONSׁ ׁ Јנd4YH|dWp 9ׁHhttp://BIRDY.MAׁ ׁ Ј׉EStarting in September, enjoy a new deal every day of the week at Terrapin Care Station. Scan below for a schedule of promotions! Aurora | Boulder | Denver | Longmont • TerrapinCareStation.com ׉ 7cassandra://hJQTtBnL-rA-6RAjMVhn_Iy11UjIb34M1rHieqlxeHU(`d4YH|5׉EISSUE 117 | SEPTEMBER 2023 VENDING MACHINE: KRYSTI JOMÉI SPACE NACHOS: JONNY DESTEFANO BURGER WORLD SUCKS: JULIANNA BECKERT CORNHOLIO: KAYVAN S. T. KHALATBARI PRANK CALL: CRISTIN COLVIN IT'S GOT ELECTROLYTES: MARK MOTHERSBAUGH BATHROOM BREAK: MEGAN ARENSON CITIZENS ARREST: HANNA HOLT FRONT COVER: JASON WHITE, UNTITLED – @JASON_WHITE_ART BACK COVER: DAVE DANZARA, DON'T PANIC – @LOSTINTIMEDESIGNS BEST OF BIRDY ISSUE 083 BUTT FLAMBÉ: JASON WHITE, MOON_PATROL, JOEL TAGERT, TYLER GROSS, JACK ESTENSSORO, NATE BALDING, BRIAN POLK, HANA ZITTEL, ZAC DUNN, JOHN VAN HORN, ERIC JOYNER, RAY YOUNG CHU, NATHAN HINDMAN, ELISE TRIVERS, CAITLYN GRABENSTEIN, MAGGIE NERZ IRIBARNE, JOSHUA VIOLA, AARON LOVETT, TOM MURPHY, MAGGIE D. FEDOROV, DAVE DANZARA WASHING THE DOG: ROB GINSBERG, X-POSER, SHARK19, MEREDITH STISSER, KATI PIETRAFESO, BRIAN SACCA, SYD, MOSS LAIR, STEPHEN GRAHAM JONES, BEN MATSUYA, XANDER SMITH, JUAN SAMU, ROBERT HACK, CLARA MEATH CHAINSAW: MARIANO OREAMUNO, HANA ZITTEL, DS THORNBURG, PHIL GARZA, ZAC DUNN, CRISTIN COLVIN SUPPORT OUR FRIENDS AND BENEFACTORS: TERRAPIN CARE STATION, MEOW WOLF, BENNY BLANCO'S, MONKEY BARREL, MUTINY INFORMATION CAFE, SEXY PIZZA, DENVER DIGERATI, OFF THE BOTTLE REFILL SHOP, COLORADO FESTIVAL OF HORROR, HEX PUBLISHERS, TOXOPLASMA ARTS FOLLOW US – IG: @BIRDY.MAGAZINE | FB: @BIRDYMAGAZINE BE IN BIRDY – ART + WORDS + ET CETERA: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONS MONTHLY MAILED SUBSCRIPTIONS + BACK ISSUES + MERCH: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOP ADVERTISE IN BIRDY + SUPPORT US + HELP BIRDY GROW: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACT-US/#ADVERTISE BIRDY IS DENVER’S ONLY PIZZA MAGAZINE, DEVOLVING MONTHLY ©2023 BIRDY MAGAZINE, THE BEGINNING WAS THE END 1 ROB GINSBERG (D.A.S.A.), DUTY NOW BEAVIS & BUTTHEAD - ROBGINSBERG.COM ׉ 7cassandra://A32_FoxaitMYGa_OluFmajzPw8FU4QqgZ6dgGToXK48`d4YH|6d4YH|5בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://MNPjCzhjM__UL1d_fqCSXs666vRWZUOjf7tzsqrcl0My`׉ 7cassandra://yKrRUvqatPB28BT6EQZ3WlO5eCsF_1V_u8B-Gc7pCBU`r׉ 7cassandra://XHB6YP2raN1v_8j1RzEmAdrFIuK6wd9jrr7kKxBG2Xw?`׉ 7cassandra://cd0PqOb1_QnhGT3fmMpscBhBXj9pSmuKjPL1Xw2-aos͠Xd4YH|aטu׉׉ 7cassandra://ndNMJucWFYC_HGcuDebgUpNV5S2fNLqu1RzJ6uiUpJ0`׉ 7cassandra://N3LA5AXPAO09pOkFzVKWlhTVpb18Jmmf1xE0me0PshwP{`r׉ 7cassandra://uLzCjy107qyGLHK5VhCb2gs798fkODrXPJBmaxZRa6c`׉ 7cassandra://hPbY7SSlIAhOgf9fmuDrfWiORAggjlz4VPTMx5e6_1A͠Xd4YH|b׉E׉ 7cassandra://XHB6YP2raN1v_8j1RzEmAdrFIuK6wd9jrr7kKxBG2Xw?`d4YH|7׉E׉ 7cassandra://uLzCjy107qyGLHK5VhCb2gs798fkODrXPJBmaxZRa6c`d4YH|8d4YH|7בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://_JDVucZqHLhUoctC7KrPbjeYWWRI4RfG9l55NRmeuj4`׉ 7cassandra://RXBQB1zFgbzJYAU9RtQ1bWoragvKxYEY1m0Zaa-pwPQd{`r׉ 7cassandra://1WmiNRSN5hpXZvMkD8LxGyPoKpwHB0avm6NVSYtA3Vo"`׉ 7cassandra://EbZRoqcF2Usas9v3YSaraziPrejJUjifw35GwHh7Wo0lR͠Xd4YH|iטu׉׉ 7cassandra://aQHQHRkfxN9R7VzpPOQFR6NSpohI9i-Re6r4y5T7IZw;`׉ 7cassandra://84JTfQ1lo08fAxreCeO1dpoc9867W_12dgXy5sTG1s4W`r׉ 7cassandra://zN1f1E_enUQXwM236fujq_HrJFuy_cBk2qUDps0IoVs`׉ 7cassandra://JE8iDtJq-YT96UQiYccIHS9K4sJYI3Il8uSYpzhuJSg͠Xd4YH|j׉E,MOON_PATROL, DREAM WARRIORS VS GIANT SPIDER ׉ 7cassandra://1WmiNRSN5hpXZvMkD8LxGyPoKpwHB0avm6NVSYtA3Vo"`d4YH|9׉EE“In shadows deep and light’s embrace,” sang Cassandra. “We forge a bond, a sacred space,” sang Tom. “With every heart and spirit true,” sang Phil. “Our magic makes the world — fuck me!” spat Lys, ducking as a collie-sized spider leapt at her face. Tom took a quick step and smashed the arachnid with his baseball bat. “Should we retreat?” Phil suggested. “Considering there are about a hundred more of these little buggers, and, you know, that.” He pointed at the eighty-foot tall monstrosity down in the valley, the other-dimensional spider titan Urglash, from whose belly the smaller spiders were dropping like a wave of paratroopers. Fortunately Urglash was too occupied with spitting acid at the U.S. Army’s tanks and helicopters to pay attention to four puny humans. On the other hand, her spiderlings alone seemed more than capable of turning them into human juice boxes. “We don’t need to retreat, we just need to say the rhyme!” said Cassandra. “Try again!” “Okay, on three. One. Two. In shadows deep— ” “In shadows deep— ” Tom came in, a moment late. “No, on three. One. Two. In shadows deep— ” “Sorry, I thought it was like, one, two, three, then go.” “No, that’s why I said ‘on three.’” “It’s just usually like, one, two, three, mark. Like, you start on ‘mark.’” “I didn’t say ‘on my mark.’ I said ‘on three.’” “Can we just — curse it!” Cassandra said, doing as indicated, using her Arcanthalian magic to curse several spiderlings scuttling toward them. The arachnids slowed, frost and ice appearing on their joints. “Speak the rhyme and summon the Avatar!” “Right! On three! One! Two! In shadows deep and light’s embrace— ” “We forge a bond, a sacred place— ” “With every heart and spirit true— ” “Stop!” Cassandra said, clearly irritated. “It’s ‘sacred space,’ not ‘sacred place.’ We practiced this!” “My bad,” Lys said. “Though it seems like kind of the same thing? I mean, space is the place, right?” “We need to say the rhyme exactly, in unison, with our hearts and minds as one.” “Okay, no problem. Although it’s not exactly Shakespeare, is it?” Cassandra glared. “In Arcanthal, every child knows it.” “So it’s like a kid’s song?” “It was written by the mage Isolde Astralweft seven centuries ago, to ward against the Unraveling!” “Guess being a great mage doesn’t necessarily make you a great poet.” “We need to reconsider our position here!” yelled Phil, swinging wildly with his morningstar at more spiderlings. Fortunately the spiky ball was enchanted to always find its mark, or he would definitely have domed himself. “I’m running for that building!” With no further consultation, that’s exactly what he did. Assessing the situation and coming to broad agreement with a glance, the other three turned tail and followed. The building was a public bathroom for the state park. Its high windows were paneless, but it still felt better than being outside. At least they could see where the spiders would come in. “Okay! Now!” urged Cassandra. “Hold hands, that usually helps.” “Right!” And together they went again, ending triumphantly with “Our magic makes the world anew!” An expectant pause followed, in which their eyes flicked toward the ceiling, the walls, waiting for a dragon of blue fire to burst from a glowing circle of runes. “Did we do it?” Lys asked. “Is it outside?” “I’ll check,” Tom volunteered, and cracked open the door long enough for a peek. “No dragon.” “What’s the deal? Do we need to be outdoors?” “It doesn’t matter where we are,” Cassandra said. “We just need to be of one heart and mind.” “Ah. So …” Cassandra sighed in exasperation. “So we’re not.” “My heart and mind were a hundred percent into avatar summoning. What were you guys thinking about?” Phil shrugged apologetically. “Honestly? Probably the smell in here. Like, obviously there’s urine, and soap, but then there’s this other smell, like rotting banana or something. Yuck.” “Yeah, I smell it too. But can you maybe forget about it and concentrate for thirty fucking seconds on saving the world?” “Easier said than done. And now it’s going to be harder than ever. You’re basically telling me not to think about a pink elephant.” 5 ׉ 7cassandra://zN1f1E_enUQXwM236fujq_HrJFuy_cBk2qUDps0IoVs`d4YH|:d4YH|9בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://MCS3ac8vZuuzYUdZtcOV8eqXrMa6c1Wx0Ki7Ngk_zhwUl`׉ 7cassandra://uFxPTFcRsgqsNLWKptHaXJFjtl5BrDFxDMwr4EaBu68aP`r׉ 7cassandra://n91ROQeDqL5EhO_1S1wi1lowuBWoMi3jE67Q_itFrOs`׉ 7cassandra://U8zMJCafOGsKLqzL-_F5P1ECxDNbNbxghB1HV8YKZVI͠Xd4YH|lטu׉׉ 7cassandra://3QhyXH5m10qBnTYjuDLWOk6xx1LjBltnwK5Z5MjpU4o`׉ 7cassandra://MCC7sFVTquHPIgX1gNsoedwLYtaCpgbkP2uyIkumGOcv4`r׉ 7cassandra://SECNbyDnpxjdnmgavij-BGZDVAwZCT5OjWU5aV-9FRg(`׉ 7cassandra://Zkw0JwHPvPM0Myz61pFrR7UX0A8PFppH0FQoFJSa1jgU͠Xd4YH|m׉E “Phil, I swear to God, if the world ends because you can’t stop thinking about whatever’s in that trash can, I’m going to fucking kill you.” “Hey, hey,” Tom tried to intervene. “Aggression isn’t going to help. Look, I have an idea.” “Can’t wait.” “When we were first picked as summoners, it was a pretty exciting time. You and me and Phil got pulled into Arcanthal, and we were busy fighting the Naga King, there was a lot of fire and blood and lightning and whatnot. So it was like, do or die. And we did. “Then suddenly, we’re back in LA, and that was less than fortyeight hours ago. Point is, we haven’t really had time to get to know each other. To bond. And we don’t have a lot of time, so we need a way to bond quickly. Right?” Lys’ eyes narrowed. “You want us to do trust falls or something?” “Well, in my experience, the strongest bonds are physical. You know? You have to feel someone. Really see them, hear them, smell them, taste them. It’s the natural way.” Lys scoffed, incredulous. “Are you suggesting we all fuck? It’s the end of the world and you want to have an orgy?” “I wouldn’t put it in those— ” “Disgusting,” said Cassandra. “If you think about it, what better time than the end of the world?” put in Phil. “Fucking frat boys. Did you two talk about this beforehand?” Phil shook his head in half-hearted denial. “Come on Cass, let’s get out of here.” Lys headed toward the door, but Cassandra hesitated. Seeing this, Lys’ mouth fell open. “You cannot be considering this.” “It might work. I mean, would you rather have sex with these two dimwits— ” “Thanks,” muttered Tom. “ —or have your insides sucked out by spiders?” “Spiders, easily.” And to prove she meant it, she went back outside, door banging shut behind her. The three remaining exchanged glances. “Maybe we could still summon the Avatar with three people?” Tom said hopefully. The bathroom door swung open again to admit Lys’ head. “Hey jerkoffs, come outside. It’s all over.” Tom sighed. Urglash was now a collapsed mess oozing goo onto the red dirt. The spiderlings had dispersed or been shot by the many troops closing in on the area. “But how?” Cassandra asked, baffled. “Only the Avatar could stop Urglash!” “The Avatar and whatever missiles those helicopters were firing, I guess,” said Lys. “Makes sense,” said Phil. “I mean, it’s basically just a big spider, right?” “I’m going to find a ride downtown,” Lys said, turning toward the road. “See you all later. Or never.” “What? Just like that?” Tom cried. “What about the Avatar? What about saving the world?” “You need better fantasies.” No. 117 ART BY X-POSER ׉ 7cassandra://n91ROQeDqL5EhO_1S1wi1lowuBWoMi3jE67Q_itFrOs`d4YH|;׉E׉ 7cassandra://SECNbyDnpxjdnmgavij-BGZDVAwZCT5OjWU5aV-9FRg(`d4YH|<d4YH|;בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://0JJOXbL-wX7XLJkQ9kLkX_zVUooFw2pyR17mX59EfOU`׉ 7cassandra://IIf-TcZz_-UGR1wCqHDAOwB4wmylh6Det1Gbe5tLqVÈ`r׉ 7cassandra://Kvq9W92zLZA765s_7lfqvydx_7FqG_UbLd6lyj2LYaQ&`׉ 7cassandra://_Z4Z4IHICUJSF3CAvKwrMJTqVo3xCx3yR3RGGhn6u0E͠Xd4YH|pטu׉׉ 7cassandra://DeDXnKO696snLWD-tOO0C4-JZhCoFyD3Xt6p1XwK6_kP`׉ 7cassandra://vnDWjNo7eHJwiKZQK7Aks3sE2V5lsouxtXQADsC1WZg<`r׉ 7cassandra://w82CJ490BntwpUGlnSnZkjDy-vk4iF80kWBs5GnaO5sd`׉ 7cassandra://CwOsZMu20GVjxl6OLS9qUjouLIOgBhY7jFJNbwPD8WU@$͠Xd4YH|q׉E0I WANT TO KILL MY CELL PHONE BY MEREDITH STISSER I want to kill my cell phone. I want to offer my cell phone to a demolition derby and watch it get whipped around and brutally crushed for twenty minutes by a green monster truck with pointy teeth painted on the doors called “La Chica Mala” before being towed out of the ring as a sweaty audience throws popcorn and half-full soda cups at it. I want to feed my cell phone to an alligator without it causing the alligator any digestive tract issues. I want to drop my cell phone into a vat of acid and pour that acid down the sink of the apartment I rent, then call my property manager and say “the drain is clogged again and I don’t know why.” I want to take my cell phone on several dates and indicate with all certainty that I’d like to get serious with it. After a month and having gotten the cell phone’s guard down, I will go radio silent. Once the cell phone politely requests more time together, I will tell it I was never looking to have a cell phone in the first place, and I think another ear is better suited for the device, also can it Venmo me for bowling? I want to cut my cell phone into cubes, then add it to a nice bowl of diced tomatoes, No. 117 mangoes, cilantro, lime, salt, pepper and a dash of cumin, bring it to a potluck dinner, and tell the host to keep the leftovers and not to worry about returning the bowl. I want to throw my cell phone as the first pitch at a Dodgers game and watch Mookie Betts swing and crush it into deep left field. I want to use my cell phone as a pigeon in a skeet shooting outing that my soon-to-be inlaws take me along on because they think I’m some city slicker who isn’t good enough for their son, but when I shout “pull” my cell phone soars into the air and I nail it like a dead-eye and it shatters to dust and all of my in-laws are instantly won over; the little sister with asthma, the green-eyed uncle who keeps kissing me on the cheek too close to my mouth, and even my fiancé’s mother who was especially skeptical of me after learning I was a vegetarian. I want to hit my cell phone with a hammer. I want to wack my cell phone in the head with a frying pan so hard because I believe it to be a home invader, then upon it crashing to the ground, realize it is not breathing and that I have just committed phoneslaughter in selfdefense. I would wrap the phone in a black tarp and drive many miles into Northeast California and dump my cell phone into Mono Lake in the dead of night. The act would haunt my conscience and I would develop a tick in which I’m always washing my hands but can’t seem to get them clean, nor ever fry an egg again. I want to stare at the black mirror of my cell phone as it clings to the edge of a cliff and sneer, “Long live the king,” before I toss it into a wildebeest stampede. I want to drop my cell phone off at the fire station in a bassinet with nothing but a note that reads “I’m Sorry” and a locket with the name “Jobs” engraved on it. I want to drop my cell phone into the mouth of a volcano in hopes of bringing peace to the land after a long, arduous quest in which I learn valuable lessons about loyalty, faith and the impermeable bonds of true friendship. I want to write a letter to my cell phone about all of its flaws and shortcomings and bad habits and instead of leaving it in a drawer, mail it Priority in an envelope full of glitter. I want to do horrible, wretched, unspeakably angry things to my cell phone. I want to kill my cell phone, because all day long, I act like I want to make love to it. SHARK19, INSUFFICIENT MEMORY ׉ 7cassandra://Kvq9W92zLZA765s_7lfqvydx_7FqG_UbLd6lyj2LYaQ&`d4YH|=׉E-TYLER GROSS, EARTH - BEST OF BIRDY ISSUE 069 ׉ 7cassandra://w82CJ490BntwpUGlnSnZkjDy-vk4iF80kWBs5GnaO5sd`d4YH|>d4YH|=בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://reB8m7JHepIYcWkRyIKNCZQipF3H241cxFcwdtl0QTU`׉ 7cassandra://ci-_9ZbNmxtbG4jpU2_11AybhaqjQodNrIBuXoMXn3s͑`r׉ 7cassandra://-c2MaygbPZdTNlSJ8zBnM0wWk-VFM0G8u_Oalbs1EtU(`׉ 7cassandra://xL9X_v9MBfYVtWlQHowL3g5V3o-0Gwz_skAl2m_g2Tsv͠Xd4YH|tטu׉׉ 7cassandra://HpqlAi25-6ENflaUZ8DLDLjBhF93vRrGdabw8xtiNGw`׉ 7cassandra://OuQi1hJHagDOGt8Va-pyUzBUoirakVc_ya5_za3W3s4k8`r׉ 7cassandra://FKCC-__JkZL9kcPgKdjgOiGCmG8shnprMvf5SzES5Yk#`׉ 7cassandra://w99d3_bdczxqL5fVwDZAGlU3u8D3tg8nUxTBbuqMQrU ͠Xd4YH|uנd4YH|w̼ 9ׁH!mailto:WEREWOLFRADARPOD@GMAIL.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉EsBURNING DOWN THE SOUSE BY NATE BALDING I hate to open up an article with a reference to Charles Dickens. I also hate to open up an article from a first person perspective. This one, however, will do both. Bleak House (read: Overrated) commends to literary history the minor death of a man named Krook — an incredible Dickensian play on spelling — by means of spontaneous human combustion, an event oft unspoken in spite of its many, many evidentiary occurrences. Famously there’s Mary Reeser who ashed out in 1951 leaving a skull and some slippers. Little remained of a fire but a coroner declared her burned alive. 1982: Jeannie Saffin bursts into flames in front of her parents in Edmonton. Could have been incited by embers from her father’s pipe but that seems like a stretch. In 2010, admittedly aged-man and reasonably more likely to die from something less weird — tripping off a mountain while trying to skip, again, seems likely — Michael Faherty, 76, presumably missed enough check-in calls for someone to find him in his Galway, Ireland home with a head and not much else next to a fireplace. Arson investigators came to the conclusion that his body was burned by either an insane accident or violent internal combustion. Cases go back to the late 1400s where a Milanese knight named Polonus Vorstius exploded in volcanic fire in front of his parents. It’s hard to say why he may have pressed the upward realm of emotional bursting to its meteoric eruption. But it’s not out of the realm of possibility that a Catholic telling his parents he might have found some reason during medieval Pride Month would turn into a blaze of homoerotic self-care. Or he might have just been kinda drunk. Spontaneous human combustion has largely been attributed to drinking the devil’s water in massive amounts. Where people have been burned to shoes and skulls — if anybody wants to make the too-well-named Shoes and Skulls a board game I will buy into your Indiegogo — they’ve had no reasonable forensic outcomes. But that hasn’t stopped people from trying to figure it out. Boozing is huge. Belief that alcoholics are the preliminary victims of going accidental human torch is prevalent but not accepted by the medical community. But wait! There’s also fat-shaming! Put on a few pounds. It probably won’t hurt. It will probably be delicious. Just don’t do it near a bunch of candles. Turns out they might start turning (trigger warning: ultra-gross) your insides into a horrible melting heat carrier. Many “experts” at one point believed the fat inside a person was getting overly greasy and that the unfortunate human was being liquefied from the tum-tum. This theory didn’t play out but it’s never been written off. As always, a weirdo theory has definitely figured it out while not being completely insane (it’s completely insane). It’s the concept of the Pyroton, a nonexistent particle that for some reason lights you on fire. Technically having them makes you an X-Man. Not like a mission X-Man but, hey, you made it kid. Graymalkin Lane. You probably have a bunch of things to say to Blob. None of the theories present so far have been able to disprove human combustion. According to everyone who investigated one, a fire has occurred without specific reason. Errant cigarettes or floating embers don’t seem to offer anything but random speculation. I’d like to believe that everyone just wanted to go out in a blaze of glory because of Jon Bon Jovi, but it turns out he mostly sucks and nearly all of the people who’ve experienced a sudden onset flame wouldn’t have liked him. Still, they’re fans of someone we enjoy and never deserved to be taken out by preternatural flames. \m/ HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE PARANORMAL? SEND THEM TO: WEREWOLFRADARPOD@GMAIL.COM OR TWITTER: @WEREWOLFRADAR. IT’S A BIG, WEIRD WORLD. DON’T BE SCARED. BE PREPARED. No. 117 JACK ESTENSSORO - BEST OF BIRDY ISSUE 045 ׉ 7cassandra://-c2MaygbPZdTNlSJ8zBnM0wWk-VFM0G8u_Oalbs1EtU(`d4YH|?׉E11 ׉ 7cassandra://FKCC-__JkZL9kcPgKdjgOiGCmG8shnprMvf5SzES5Yk#`d4YH|@d4YH|?בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://SJgOfAzTkASXD7y5NKP5EyWlovcyb6-Q01qZNLJGoBwG`׉ 7cassandra://tW3M74tq6DXx8tjExgyF55ycyrn6Zt2YKpShf3kZrYIt`r׉ 7cassandra://BvvqIyPZB-4KBGcnPagwObsj9w9Ym5PDlBe_ewfq2tg&P`׉ 7cassandra://hjhoILZS5JpC1NTnVP5BMpn4QulasV3iiGUvXQ3y9Z0͔͠Xd4YH|xטu׉׉ 7cassandra://-VcWjKtUgV9brWqdaN6vD5rlbqesYR0y2rISZesSUlUpD`׉ 7cassandra://RvwKX6mSifeqmUSARGY-Im5tqvvrYPo4Hg7h13hFzIkq`r׉ 7cassandra://AfpqbKXmDZrVMmo2vPmDJiTD9fVluZMFN_wgGZ04gaE"z`׉ 7cassandra://0JdDcwetbNRZnB_pVG66ImzdZY5k3uyt2gnzCXScj7kf͠Xd4YH|y׉EBY BRIAN POLK IF YOU DON’T TAKE THE HIGH ROAD, IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO LOOK DOWN ON PEOPLE This is something my grandpappy always said. He taught all his grandchildren to be humble and deferential in the face of adversity. And if we maintained our poise even in the most harrowing trials and tribulations, it meant that we were better than most people, and we could subsequently look down on them with derision and contempt. He was a wise person. No. 117 A LARGE PART OF MY DAY CONSISTS OF ASKING THE FOLLOWING QUESTION: DID I IN FACT DO THE THING I JUST DID? This is largely due to the fact that my brain never turns off more than it is my aging memory (or so I like to think). And as such, my short-term sense of recall isn’t great because there are thoughts in my head that I need to think. For example, as I was closing the garage door the other day, I was thinking about how I haven’t told my little brother about this band called Gottlieb yet, and I should really get on that. Then when I MANTIS - GAME OF DEATH (1978) ׉ 7cassandra://BvvqIyPZB-4KBGcnPagwObsj9w9Ym5PDlBe_ewfq2tg&P`d4YH|A׉E #was two blocks from my house, a deep sense of panic overcame me as I realized the garage door that I had just closed might in fact still be open. Astute readers will notice this wasn’t because of a poor memory, but because I reminded myself of a very important thing I needed to tell my brother as I was doing another task — and brains don’t like to concentrate on multiple things at the same time. Of course, I’ve long suspected that people who have good memories can turn off the everyday torrent of thoughts and focus single-mindedly on specific tasks and/or facts. And therefore their ability to recollect information isn’t based on innate brain chemistry, but rather on the skill of turning down their inner monologue so the details don’t get lost in the din of consciousness. I’ve never figured out how to do that — and frankly, I’m not sure if I want to. Overthinking every aspect of life with a clamorous internal monologue is kind of my thing. WHEN I TELL YOU I HAVEN’T HEARD A SINGLE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG, COULD YOU PLEASE NOT GET ALL INCREDULOUS AND PLAY ONE FOR ME? I’M DELIBERATELY TRYING TO AVOID THESE THINGS The same goes for Beyoncé, Kanye West and Oasis. Listen, there’s not a lot I enjoy about popular culture, and it’s fine. I’m doing okay and my life still has meaning. I’m almost positive you’ve never heard of Nomeansno or Alice Donut, but I’m not going to say, “No way! You’ve never heard of them? I don’t believe it. Come here and listen to this.” Because I’m sure you’re doing okay and your life still has meaning. Here’s the deal: I’m not asking for much. I just want a little understanding in this particular area of life. So for the love of God, please don’t make me watch any more Taylor Swift videos. I simply do not like them. I WAS OFF TO A PROMISING START ON THIS CROSSWORD PUZZLE, BUT THEN IT ALL WENT TO SHIT When I first started solving this puzzle, it was a breeze. I filled in all the clues in the upper left corner in record time. But as I moved throughout the rest of the crossword, I began to get discouraged. By the time I made it to the bottom right corner, I had only solved an additional two clues and was all but demoralized. After that, I did what any normal person would do in this situation, and I chucked it in the recycling bin and pretended it never made me feel so dumb. ALRIGHT EVERYONE, WE’RE SHORT-STAFFED TODAY, SO WE’RE GOING TO NEED YOU ALL TO GIVE IT 11O% — EXCEPT OF COURSE FOR YOU CARL. WE’D BE BOTH GRATEFUL AND AMAZED IF YOU COULD BRING IT UP TO 6O% We all know how committed Carl is to not working hard. And we know he has to take a break every 27 minutes or so. So while the rest of us really need to give it our all and then some, if Carl could bring it up to slightly over half, then we’d really have something here. SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION TIME I am releasing a new book entitled, A Lifetime Of Ephemera: 25 Years In Punk Told Through Ticket Stubs, Flyers, & Memorabilia. It comes out on September 30th and will be for sale on the interwebs. Check it out if you get a chance! ׉ 7cassandra://AfpqbKXmDZrVMmo2vPmDJiTD9fVluZMFN_wgGZ04gaE"z`d4YH|Bd4YH|AבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://DUbb1WJaXiYaUh7Ij2Ekzi9JbE7_R8ogp_j7HapNhqIz`׉ 7cassandra://fsUPYXNylRZovBu4pdZ0QjPPkR5eJLQYMf1-hioupsE͒`r׉ 7cassandra://Rbrg1OfHf0k9ABuP8G52da0p7vDrir_Ll05ols3P7-4*`׉ 7cassandra://XaW6dLx9U0LYqzANPxQqloXhBqOAMPR1BS-PmKoImY4¶ ͠Xd4YH|{טu׉׉ 7cassandra://KshsVTdXyQZuXBCtVi2xPjo69-k_tPDkeKfzZnSBciElj`׉ 7cassandra://0mMJAEUuJb2v7gmTQ3uxLpk9A6KJm2XcJAIjag8aWSkvV`r׉ 7cassandra://wpqtlrxcLja33lXK43TWkfsmLQzqfvzYL-WHjlXNFzk%`׉ 7cassandra://9NzBSt8nRwdE-epdi4l_8z8scnjwWkeC7FN2ToXe3fg1b͠Xd4YH||׉EBY HANA ZITTEL CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS BY NANA KWAME ADJEI-BRENYAH (2023) “I’m not dying here,” Thurwar repeated, the words summoning themselves. She continued to circle Bishop, backing farther away, gathering space to charge. Bishop followed her in a smooth pivot. “Then swing through, not at. And shave your fucking head. And make them love a version of you. That’s the important part, whatever you do. Love, then get out.” Produced by Criminal Action Penal Entertainment (CAPE), Chain-Gang All-Stars BattleGrounds and its companion show LinkLyfe have quickly ingrained themselves into the lives of Americans as the next logical escalation of the private prison system and action sports entertainment. In horrifyingly gory matches resembling gladiator bouts, the incarcerated battle to the death on live TV for a chance at achieving “high freedom,” released from incarceration, if they can survive three years on the circuit. Regularly subject to one-on-one matches, melee or paired battles, competitors earn Blood Points to purchase weaponry, armor or food to improve their chances of survival, a clear escalation of the prison commissary. Brands clamor to mark the bodies and clothing of favored competitors with logos, each match littered with the symbols of capitalism sinking to new, disgusting depths. When not actively battling, the incarcerated are perpetually followed by drones, filming their every move for the reality TV show, LinkLyfe. Few survive, succumbing to the fate of “low freedom,” yet new participants are pumped into the games at a vicious rate through the machine of mass incarceration. At the center of this season’s matches are Loretta Thurwar and Humara Stacker, known in the arena as Hurricane Staxx. Loretta is nearing the end of her three years on the circuit and has been named Grand Colossal. Living in the same Link, Loretta and Humara are lovers, facing daily extinction and an impending separation when impacts of the outside world, changes in their Link, and corporate greed escalate the threats on their already tenuous futures. Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah’s debut novel is a fierce satire vibrating with violence and exposing the depravity of the American prison system. His skill in writing the dark realities of mass incarceration and America’s ability to buy into the sickest of entertainment makes the world he creates feel like a depressingly likely future. Underneath the gore and horror, Adjei-Brenyah illuminates the stories of those subject to the brutality of incarceration and shines light on a broken system in this riveting debut. WILD GIRLS: HOW THE OAUTDOORS SHAPED THE WOMEN WHO CHANGED A NATION BY TIYA MILES (2023) Tiya Miles, 2021 National Book Award winner for her All That She Carried: The Journey of Ashley’s Sack, a Black Family Keepsake, returns with her newest book examining the impact of the outdoors on women throughout history. She begins with Harriet Tubman and how her knowledge of the environment around her — initiated from forced labor outdoors — grew to become an intimate knowledge of the plants, climate and skills of survival helping her achieve the liberation of so many enslaved people. Miles quotes astronomer Chanda Prescod-Weinstein, writing, “Only with extensive technical skills, including familiarity with the land, and an incredible level of persistence could Tubman have had this kind of success rate.” Miles covers the impact of the wilderness on writers like Louisa May Alcott and activists Grace Lee Boggs and Dolores Huerta. In the section Game Changers, Miles dives into the story of Genevieve Healy of the Aaniiih (Gros Ventre) people, raised at first on the Fort Belknap Indian Reservation and sent to the Fort Shaw federal boarding school. Despite the military style and attempted erasure of Indigenous culture, one tiny light emerged during Healy’s time at Fort Shaw when teacher and physical culture instructor Josephine Langley introduced the new sport of basketball, changing the course of the lives for the girls at the school in complex ways. Wild Girls covers an immense amount of history in a deceptively small book and Miles’ excellent storytelling provides interesting new perspectives of the impact and importance of the natural world on well-known figures, while illuminating lesser known women in history. No. 117 ׉ 7cassandra://Rbrg1OfHf0k9ABuP8G52da0p7vDrir_Ll05ols3P7-4*`d4YH|C׉E THE BEAR By Zac Dunn The trees did not speak as they passed through. The birds didn’t circle as the bugs had all risen from the boundless heather. The fat red fish would be waiting Pushing up stream with every delicious morsel Of muscle and fat To squirt their essence in the maelstrom. The Cubs hadn’t been getting along The last deer they’d eaten turned into A full-blown roe that resulted in some Deep wounds and hurt feelings. The path back to the den was the BEAR’s favorite. Belly full of fish, ready to cuddle with his brood at last. On they marched finally entering the majesty of the Delta. The Cubs made nice and pounced the writhing and wriggling COHO. They’d smelled the LONER coming hours ago but it seemed they’d been persistent. The BEAR motioned to the brood and they broke back to the trees and followed MUM. The BEAR did not return to the deciduous canopy and rather turned up stream where he could feel the LONER approaching. The BEAR had grown up an orphan and his kin were all bagged by filthy odious mountain men. A perpetual game of cat and mouse unfolding over years. The flatiron faces that kept them all trapped there together. They all knew each other in a way. The BEAR had reached his limit. The time would never end when this toothless recluse would cull his kin and kind. Making quick haste the BEAR lay in wait on the river’s edge. A rat king of water moccasins curbed in the cure strait of the bend. The breaths the BEAR drew were low and slow. The snapping splashing was almost within reach. The BEAR swatted the LONER. The LONER stepped back, gasp blasting buckshot off left. The BEAR went low, caught the pellets in the shoulder. The LONER took a breath and stepped back. The cottonmouth’s lunged at his meaty, filthy thigh. Desperately the LONER retrieved his pistol only to receive four more 15 brutal strikes from the understandably upset reptiles. The LONER staggered back in the river and flopped backwards. Gasping for air cursing the BEAR. The BEAR observed from the bank. It was time to March back. The LONER twitched and continued cussing as the BEAR made haste snatching two more COHO in his maw. The stars were all out and the Cubs were back in the den warming the womb. The tiny needles clicked and clacked in an orchestra of bugs, birds, frogs and deer. The great chorus of the wind spoke lonely and slow. FOLLOW FOR MORE WORK — IG: @UZIEGO | TUMBLR: @WTFCRAIGSLISTNYC JOHN VAN HORN, BEAR CUP - BEST OF BIRDY ISSUE 051 ׉ 7cassandra://wpqtlrxcLja33lXK43TWkfsmLQzqfvzYL-WHjlXNFzk%`d4YH|Dd4YH|CבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://Rjoc1X_5lbR9IMWjfu2cQwM-o_6ddud2ODdIM8ruMco`׉ 7cassandra://cS9nNEOMVp4mD7oQonkJiYscG9v3hmCjSSoDtClxukcQ~`r׉ 7cassandra://3Y4J695xssRQ_8XT6eM2We7o358p7WlrclPv1c-N4csh`׉ 7cassandra://ZQiEAE0r_xP5_6aOfJsF36V2NDa7DpKrbibLmLBeiNUi͠Xd4YH|~טu׉׉ 7cassandra://j1P2lnFzrts7hzpkDqdXaNH1rud2w_XKDAZMRdPuRncx`׉ 7cassandra://l55OJQcmgKkvPbKvNraSdj2EqnW87-lOwS3X8JzXRfAL"`r׉ 7cassandra://SAE7Ybyu8XpGXRwy7b6jRo0q2vwRk4zp-rfxe6jci2w\`׉ 7cassandra://jB0WhnbU9sXpAG66lYi9d7cFEvRFCLqujC4aPLGfSmMi͠Xd4YH|נd4YH|؁e 9ׁHhttp://ERICJOYNER.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉E)ERIC JOYNER, MESMERIZED - ERICJOYNER.COM ׉ 7cassandra://3Y4J695xssRQ_8XT6eM2We7o358p7WlrclPv1c-N4csh`d4YH|E׉E׉ 7cassandra://SAE7Ybyu8XpGXRwy7b6jRo0q2vwRk4zp-rfxe6jci2w\`d4YH|Fd4YH|EבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://4WVt-kUnZbLV6x4TlJ5v4JV1nNsHNDqSGEDFYJIbQJs`׉ 7cassandra://D5VRpfxqb_Jz1kyeCg3ckAiaCHYgyCtp9GSckNl0jSQ"E`r׉ 7cassandra://1KVEZqsYgwX_GdbJekRslj7XlAOXTST-YEUhQOUF3q8`׉ 7cassandra://-uMFUOPvWfWa2AWjxpZwai0FjjW_RvJYyVYw-YBlMJgͫV͠Xd4YH|טu׉׉ 7cassandra://nxlLKw09eDaMqzysMUc0uA2Ppp4NFDTasTYFB9sNABs `׉ 7cassandra://3SC8D2-ro4qiR1uG0tUlUIblrbgR2Tuh2xgDeLjVFxs̓j`r׉ 7cassandra://qVld5LFq0ColFgF-Ms0hskOLHuLFj3XuayHICb93NL8%`׉ 7cassandra://B4U_zWAEMcZArxgIdHvkpJ2nxtVhyp7R8THKuJjkyqM4h͠Xd4YH|׉E