Inconspicuous Volume I | Issue ii

Letter from the

Editor
Dear Reader,

L ife on the underground is tough. Some eve-

nings over these past weeks, we have worked
long into the deepest and darkest hours of the
night, agonizing over every word within these pag-
es, for We Will Stop at Nothing Short of Excel- Image by Inconspicuous Staff. All rights reserved.
lence. On that morning when distribution finally
rolls around, you will know us by the circles under orange juice … to you all, our peers: the preten-
our eyes. tious, the malicious, the rebellious, and the cyni-
cal alike. 
We would have you know that Inconspicuous is
not merely a “lit ‘zine.” We are here, necessarily, Life on the underground is an adventure, after
to tackle the subjects that are vital to the students all.
of South, whether they be sex, drugs, rock’n’roll,
or Sophie’s World. It takes something extraordi- Anonymously yours,
nary to stand out in the sea that is nonconformity
at South. Inconspicuous is a compilation created Inconspicuous Editor In Chief
by that sea, and it will become extraordinary be-
cause of you.

In that vein, submissions, comments, and ques-

tions are welcomed at inconspicuouslit@gmail.
com. You may also submit work from our website,
http://www.inconspicuous.uni.cc, which is a pretty
cool website, by the way. Soon enough, you may
see your own words within these pages. Submis-
sions are by default anonymous, but let us know
if you want your name in the byline (should we
choose to publish it).
Somewhere within the body of students, we are
sitting next to you in your classes. We are waiting
for your responses; we are gauging your reactions.
So now, on behalf of the staff, I raise my glass of …
We leave you to enjoy Inconspicuous with this final
thought:
“The usual high school paper is run by puppet lackeys of
the administration. It avoids controversy, naughty lan-
guage, and a host of other things foreign to the 4-H Club
members the school is determined to mass produce. The
only thing the staff is good at is kissing the principal’s ass.
Let’s face it, the aim of a good high school newspaper
should be to destroy the high school.” -Abbie Hoffman,
In fact, one thing that I’ve noticed... is that all of these con-
spiracy theories depend on the perpetrators being endlessly
clever. I think you’ll find the facts also work if you assume
everyone is everyone stupid.

- Unknown
 Inconspicuous Letters to the Editor

T hree weeks ago, if you

walked around the school,
you would be able to see, scat-
I had lots of trouble trying to get my hands on a copy
of Inconspicuous for the first issue. I know there were
tered randomly throughout the some in the science resource area, but I had problems
school, 17 page white zines,
spotting the science wing, the finding them elsewhere. My English teacher had
practice rooms, the library, the some in the morning, but by the time I tried to
classrooms, and even certain
departments. Our goal was, go and get one, there weren’t any left. You should
by 7:45 am, Thursday, January release more copies of your magazine if you want
19th, 2006, the first copies of
Inconspicuous’ first issue would people to read it. Thanks.
be released to the public. We Inconspicuous, Volume
sat back, and crossed our fin-
One, Issue One, released - Annoyed
gers, hoping that we wouldn’t
bore you. on January 19, 2006.
To Annoyed,

Dear Editor,
I just thought I’d drop a line and say that I think
your ‘zine is pretty damn cool. I especially liked
your article on Perryman. She was a pretty sweet
teacher. It definitely made me smile. The emo po-
etry epitomized “emo,” and the stories were quite
enjoyable. As were the Oscar Wilde quotes.
Congrats for a fucking awesome read.
-Wishes to Remain Anonymous

Dear Editor,
Sup? How’s it going?
My life is goin’ good. Thanks for asking.
Don’t worry. We’re releasing more copies of each issue now.
Look out for copies of Inconspicuous in the library, class-
rooms, IHS hallways, practice rooms, and other mundane
places around the school. Good Luck!
I really liked your first issue, the news (fake news is
definitely more entertaining than the real stuff), poet-
ry (that emo stuff really was crap...but it was so crappy
it was...good crap), the stories, and I liked the draw-
ing thingy. I found it interesting I now attend HIS in-
stead of IHS, but the typos didn’t really slow me down.
What’s been bugging me is that’s it’s been over three
weeks now and no magazine. I mean, is this a one time
magazine? Cause you didn’t make it sound like it, but
I’m still waiting. So could you hurry it up a little bit. I
know it’s a lot of work but come on...
Oh, and the H5N1 strain of bird flu was confirmed in
18-20 dead birds in Eygpt.

Oh, hi Inconspicuous peeps reading this. How - Bored and Waiting...

are you guys?

Um...Yea...see ya all later

-Also Anonymous

Hi Anonymous,

I’d say things are going pretty well… pretty status quo, if
you know what I mean. We’re all doing pretty well here at
Inconspicuous. Nice to hear that your life is “goin’ good” Send in your questions and
comments to inconspicuou-
too. slit@gmail.com. Submissions
may be edited for length. All
submissions will become prop-
erty of Inconspicuous. That
It’s better to keep your mouth shut and give the
means we can make fun of you
impression the impression you’re stupid than to open
and not get sued for it.
and remove all doubt.
Thank you!
- Rami Belson
 Article Volume I | Issue ii

SCALIA SUPPORTS GROUP

SEX
Something we would never have expected from our most
conservative Supreme Court justice...

A s usual, Supreme Court

Justice Antonin Scalia
has been giving speeches; how-
sex! Each and every one of the
up to 45,000 must be arranged
as carefully as an ionic com-
ever, President Bush may dis- pound so that the positively
agree with this staunch conser- charged women only come into
vative on some of the content contact with negatively charged 
of this year’s speeches--specifi- men and vice versa. The world
cally, his words on group sex. could falter should you ac-
cidentally caress another hu-
The Harvard graduate, born man being of the same gender!
in 1936, stated in a speech at
his alma mater that “sexual But don’t let that keep you
orgies eliminate social ten- from enjoying yourself. Gath-
sion and ought to be en- er yourself a rousing group
couraged.” Feeling a little (perhaps invite Justice S Sca-
stressed? Group sex is for you! However, first you lia as well) and rigorously eliminate your social
need to know the basics. How many people should tension through sleeping with many of the op-
be there for this therapy session? According to the posite gender as they do they same. Should you
associate justice, the proper number is “presum- have any more questions, you can call the Public
ably…between five and the number of people re- Information Office of the Supreme Court at 202-
quired to fill the Coliseum.” For your information, 479-3211. Or perhaps the “Cult of Scalia” would
that’s 45,000 people. know; you can sign their guestbook at http://mem-
bers.aol.com/schwenkler/scalia/. And we wish all
But before you gather all the inhabitants of Ras al of you the best in ridding our country of social ten-
Khaymah for you close knit sexual party, keep in sion.
mind that Scalia believes Lawrence v. Texas could
This is true. Google it.
cause “a massive disruption of the current social
order” because it allows men to sleep with men
and women to sleep with women. As it is danger- A word to the wise ain’t necessary, it’s the stupid
ones who need advice.
ous to do so, you must be careful with your group
- Bill Cosby
 Inconspicuous Article

BUSH DECLARES EUGENE “AN

AXIS OF EVIL”
Students say, “It’s about time.”

Washington D.C., -- On March 13, 2006, Presi- Eugene to flourish in America. If anyone opposes
dent George W. Bush, during a press conference, the government, they should not be allowed to
announced to the nation that Eugene, a small city live in the country,” said Delay fervently.
in Oregon, is an “axis of evil.”
Statements denouncing Eugene have caused much
The CIA has been investigating the area since controversy in Congress, in the White House, and
January. The administration, after hearing reliable throughout the nation. People around the globe
rumors about the anti-American activities of the are rumored to be celebrating Eugene’s proud defi-
local self-proclaimed “hippies,” found evidence of ance against America’s government. A moment of
nuclear weapons and other forms of weapons of silence was observed by many Iraqi citizens today
mass destruction. for the Eugeneans, though it abruptly ended after

a soldier accidentally fired at a civilian, claiming
A proposal, fathered by Representative Tom De- that the civilian’s silence threatened him.
lay, is currently being debated in Congress. The
proposal’s contents include a forced secession When asked why he made this declaration, the
within two weeks of Eugene’s release, followed by President responded with: “This city [Eugene] is an
a war declaration. “We cannot allow places like axis of evil because... uh... it’s very evil. Right?”

STEPHANIE CANNON SUSPECTED

OF WORKING WITH TERRORISTS
Students say, “It’s about time.”

Eugene, Oregon -- On February 28th, 2006, a
America is not an elephant. For one thing, elephants
never forget, whereas Americans don’t really know
much to begin with. Ninety percent of them can’t
pick out their hometown on an unmarked map.
full Department of Homeland Security anti-terror-
ism squad marched into the South Eugene main
office and placed Stephanie Cannon under arrest
for terrorist activity. It is known that Cannon is
not well-liked by the student body, causing insinu-

- Rick Mercer
 Cannon Volume I | Issue ii

ation of mal-intent or at least flawed character, works or fast food joints. Life will go on as usual.”
but no one suspected anything like this. Can- By the end of the week citizens were feeling safe
non, it seems, has been collaborating with ter- again.
rorists since before she even came to South.
The arrest came as a complete shock to South “We’re simply grateful that the Department of
Eugene High School principal, Randy Bern- Homeland Security’s fast action prevented any
stein, who spoke to our agent on Wednesday. lasting effects on the students,” one South Eugene
parent said. “We truly must be thankful for every-
“In all the time I’ve known Cannon, I’ve never thing our government is doing to combat the ter-
noticed anything particularly traitorous or un- rorist threat.”
patriotic about her” he said, adding that he did
not believe anyone else could have known ei- However, there may be a need for follow-up inves-
ther. A short investigation by government tigations.
agents revealed no collaborators, confirming
this claim, and removing south staff and stu- “We have seen unfortunate signs of eco-terrorism
dent’s from under suspicion. While questions around this town, and the fact the enemy combat-
were raised about the legitimacy of this arrest, ant in question was of course associated with the
the government was quick to quash all rumors. NEA (National Education Association), a known
terrorist organization, is not promising,” said vice
“Our agency is perfectly able to be misdirected president Dick Cheney.
and ineffectual without outward help of any kind.
We are a functioning unit of misappropriation and But whether they find anything or not, Eugeneans
other such important services.” One department can rest assured that they are in good hands. In
spokesperson said in a public meeting, Thursday, response to this arrest, President Bush offered the
drawing thunderous applause. Later, classified evi- following statement: “I fear for the hearts and… 
dence reportedly showed the arrest to be legitimate. the…the hearts of young Americans. It is difficult.
It is difficult to imagine that there is, even now,
Cannon apparently had connections with Al- that there is people in-filtering our schools. Cor-
Queda and had been feeding them informa- rupting our youth from the very base of their…
tion about the innermost workings of the South hearts. This disturbing incident has left myself
Eugene High School main office for over a year. shocked. We will get to the base of this education-
Department of Homeland Security spokesmen al in-filtering before any more young Americans
refused to comment on exactly how much was are exposed.”
leaked, but it is quite likely that they may have
even been given access to copies of The Axe.

Furthermore, it is imminently likely that Cannon

has been subliminally affecting the students. Her The wit is ironic.
complete contact and effect upon the student
body has yet to be quantified, but as a school ad-
ministrator her presence poses questions about
the safety of student’s in schools across America.

However, authorities say that no one should worry.

“The situation has been stabilized, and no one needs

to fear for our American way.” Bush later issued the
following statement to clarify the lack of danger: “It Men were born ignorant, not stupid; they were
made stupid by education.
is unlikely this will affect any major television net-
- Bertrand Russell
 Inconspicuous Article

FATAL SPOT STEALING

FRENZY
Our parking lot sucks.

S pot stealing has always been an issue at South,

yet the problem had never been as big as it
was last week. It all started with Student A, who
Student W flipped off Student F and Student
U, who each proceeded to yell “fuck you!” Now,
Student H thought that Student W’s gesture
parked in Student B’s spot because Student A was in his/her own direction, and as Student H
didn’t have a spot and Student B was late return- thought that polite gestures were for the wimps
 ing from lunch. So what did Student B do? Student like Students E and K who settled for parking on
B parked in Student C’s spot, who consequently the street - despite both having parking permits
parked in Student’s R’s spot, who parked in Stu- to spots now in binary code - he/she attempted to
dent L’s spot. Student L was pissed but late for class, wade through the traffic. Thus Student H “acci-
which caused Student L to take Student Q’s spot. dentally” reversed into Student W’s car, getting
Student Q proceeded to steal Student T’s spot. a cheerful round of fuck you!’s from Students F
and U, who had wanted to crash into student W’s
At this point, Students D, J, and M could no lon- car first, as they both smashed into the back of
ger recognize their spots because everyone around Student W’s car.
them had moved, causing each of them to park
in each other’s spots, except for Student J, who Just then, Student V showed up, returning from
is rather terrible at parking (no offense meant to his/her UO class (we think, although that report
Student J) and went over into Student S’s spot. cannot be confirmed). Student V took an angry
Student S, having access to black and yellow paint, glance at the mess, recognized his/her binary-cod-
went through the parking lot with Student’s G, X, ed spot and left to park in the visitor’s parking lot,
and I, and repainted numbers into binary code. reporting the car of Student P, who’d given up on
reading binary to find his/her correct spot. Mid-
Now no one knew whose spot was whose, but ev- frenzy, Adrian and Officer Z rushed to the scene
eryone was returning, and Students N-P started for backup - their funerals will be later next week.
trying to find their spots very slowly. This prompted
Students Y and U to race around the school park-
ing lots almost crashing into students A, B, and D;

We’re in a giant car heading towards a brick wall

everyone arguing over where they’re going to sit.

- David Suzuki
 Article Volume I | Issue ii

Diagram of what happened in the parking lot. Image copyrighted by Inconspicuous

Staff. All rights reserved.

The trouble with the world is that the stupid are

cocksure and the intelligent full of doubt.

- Bertrand Russell
 Inconspicuous Opinion

Ruggers are Very Badass

A s the halls clear after a long school day, certain

groups of hardened sports-playing individuals
can be found throughout the purple cavern that is
bruises; any real Rugger will play through every-
will play through everything as long as it doesn’t
slow down their game.
South Eugene High School. At ten minutes past
four, the members of one of these groups in par- The basics of the sport, they assure us, are quite
ticular begin their transformations from well-man- simple. The ball can only be thrown backwards.
nered, attentive high-scholars to Ruggers. The Players move the ball forward by carrying or kick-
cream of the crop. The craziest of the crazies. ing it. Unlike football, there is no blocking and
play does not stop. When a tackle is made, the

Every Day, except Wednesdays, this group of young ball-carrier is forced to release the ball. Once the
men and women gathers together after school to ball is free, the two teams fight over it in what they
practice a sport older than our state. According call rucks and mauls. This upcoming season is the
to some players they show up to hone their skills, South team’s fourth.
to learn to play as a team, and to “fucking enjoy”
themselves. Other players admitted they still don’t The Ruggers say fans are always welcome to come
know why they show up so often. “It’s cold as shit... to home games.
I don’t know…a lot of days I just don’t feel like
coming.” Indeed, the larger-than-average rainfall Rugby players come in many different forms, but
left the field they practice on (the soccer field east they all have a certain personality trait that distin-
of the turf) looking something like the wetlands guishes them from “normal” teens. They are the
that used to take up the same space. “The entire type who recklessly wrestles in the hallways, the
practice is like wading knee-deep through mud type who doesn’t care how much pain they will
and dog crap,” one long-time Rugger explains. Of be in after-the-fact. They are the type who simply
course, practice also involves tackling, which is loves life and everything that comes with it. Yes,
what the players especially look forward to. Rugby that’s it. To be a Rugger you must be badass, you
is a dangerous game, though the coaches and ref- must be hardcore, but even more than that you
erees take constant action to avoid serious injury. must be high-spirited, energetic, and simply viva-
During a Rugby game, if you leave the field due to cious.
an injury, you are not allowed to return. There-
fore, all players have to learn to play with lots of This is a paid advertisement. For your own club ad-
bruises, bumps, cuts, etc. Ruggers don’t care about vertisement, please email <inconspicuouslit@gmail.
com>.
Stupidity is an elemental force for which no earth-
quake is a match.

- Unknown
 Opinion
Fascism in the Halls
South’s Genocidal Cliques
E very year, South Eugene is plagued by appli-
cations for new clubs. These range from the
bizarre, like the South Eugene Women’s Lacrosse
Club, to the downright silly, like The South Eu-
gene Save Darfur Club. But in this past year, stu-
dents have outdone themselves with the inappro-
priate: The South Eugene Communist Club.
Communism, for those who don’t know, is a sys-
tem of religious beliefs poorly disguised as a system
of government. This system, which lends itself to
dictatorships, has been prevalent throughout the
darkest times of the twentieth century. From the
oppressive regime of Stalin, which ended the lives
of more than seven-million ethnic Ukrainians, to
the right-revoking leadership of Mao Tse Tsung,
communism represents the most revolting system
of leadership human kind has ever created.
More indicative of religion than actual govern-
ment, communism has a way of controlling peo-
ple’s lives. The theory is that everyone is equal
and everyone works for the good of everyone, but
to quote George Orwell: “All animals are equal
but some animals are more equal than others.”
The fact remains that this mass belief in equality
breeds a willingness to be oppressed.
And now, this year, a group of pseudo-intellectual
juniors have decided it is an appropriate exercise
of civil liberties to wear the hammer and sickle on
their sleeves; a symbol, under which more people of
a single ethnic group died than under the Jew-kill-
ing Nazi swastika, is now branded in our hallways.
Volume I | Issue ii
So it is along these lines that I propose the follow-
ing pursuits of patriotic exercise:
The Nazi Club: Skinheads unite! Selling swas-
tika cookies to raise funds for Jew ovens, and vis-
iting elementary schools to inspire third-graders
to join the Hitler Youth. Club activities include
curb-stomping and gypsy-hunting.
Viking Raiders Student Union: Seaside villag- 
es beware, all your huts are belong to us. Pillage,
rape, and have some ale. I am the key-master, are
you the gate-keeper?
The Redneck Club: Send those Mexicans home!
Drive them south with whips, shotguns or Pabst
Blue Ribbon. Hold speeches where the audience
leaves dazed, confused, and dreaming of that per-
fect, rusted out muscle car to park in their front
lawn.
The Spanish Inquisition Student Union: Hunt
down Jews and make them confess to crimes
against the Lord. Burn banks and bagel stores in
the name of Lord Jesus our Savior. Torture, disap-
pearances, and ridiculous uniforms a must.
Yachting Club: Snooty bastards.
Most people would die sooner than think; in fact,
they do.
- Bertrand Russell
 Inconspicuous Commentary

Why Wiretapping?
From the NSA official site: The National Security Agency/Central Security Service is Ameri-
ca’s cryptologic organization. It coordinates, directs, and performs highly specialized activities to
protect U.S. government information systems and produce foreign signals intelligence informa-
tion. A high technology organization, NSA is on the frontiers of communications and data
processing. It is also one of the most important centers of foreign language analysis and research
within the government.

I n an age where information circles the globe in

mere seconds, we find ourselves forced to ask how
much of our own information is out in cyberspace.
Privacy has always been a concern for Americans,
but this issue has recently come to the headlines.
The Bush administration has come under fire for
authorizing the recent National Security Agency
(NSA) wiretapping. The necessity of the program
is often questioned because the Foreign Intelli-
10 gence Surveillance Act (FISA) set up courts to
handle warrants for secretive wiretappings. Why,
then, should Bush override this court by giving
authority for these NSA wiretappings? The an-
swer can be seen in Bush’s response to Hurricane
Katrina. After the hurricane, many thought Bush
had erred by not stepping above the bureaucratic
red tape to provide a more immediate response.
Suppose some terrorist attack occurred in the
next few weeks. And, sometime in the fall-
out of investigations afterward, it was found
that information could have been presented
to stop the attack, but a warrant was held up
in FISA courts for weeks. Bush would be criti-
cized exactly as he was for Katrina: for not step-
ping through the red tape when he could have.
It’s not like these wiretappings are hitting every
citizen. In fact, the NSA is only targeting calls go-
ing to suspected members of Al-Qaeda overseas.
How many times have you, or anyone you know,
called suspected members of Al-Qaeda? The
Guns have little or nothing to do with juvenile violence. The causes of youth
violence are: working parents who put their kids into daycare, the teaching of
evolution in schools, and working mothers who take birth control pills.
answer for nearly all American citizens should be
zero. If the answer is not zero, perhaps there are
some more questions that need to be asked.
Frankly, without the wiretapping, it could come
down to the worst-case scenario: the possibility of
NSA agents not collecting the information they
need to thwart a terrorist plot. With the NSA
wiretapping, an agent would simply listen in on a
call or two for information which could foil a ter-
rorist plot. Remember, an NSA agent isn’t going
to care about other things you may let slip - they
don’t care about what other ill advised activities
in which you may have partaken over the week-
end.
We live in an age where there are people who
largely resent the Western influence on their soci-
eties. Some people, an extreme minority, respond
in a direct and violent manner against that west-
ern influence. Terrorism is a threat to our nation,
and to the administration’s credit, we haven’t
seen a successful attack since September 11th.
There have been several foiled plots (such as the
West Coast Plan of 2002). Clearly, the administra-
tion is working to prevent attacks. What we must
remember is that the government is working to
protect us. It will inevitably make mistakes, but
the government is doing a good job of ensuring
the security of our nation; it needs to be allowed
to take steps through red tape when it’s necessary
to continue ensuring that security.

- Tom Delay
 Submissions Volume I | Issue ii

Fairy Tales
Fighting

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. She had a

brother.
Sad Boy in a Corner
She always fought with her brother. When she
He was sitting. Not smiling. The sad boy in the
woke up, instead of saying good morning, she had
corner. She approached. Invited. She was interest-
a fight. When she went to bed, instead of saying
ed. He drew interest. The sad boy in the corner.
good night, she had a fight.
At a party, he sat. Not smiling. The sad boy in the
Because of this she was always angry and irritable.
corner. It was her party. Her friends were interest-
ed. He was interesting, that sad boy in the corner.
One day, she didn’t have a fight. That day, she
felt good, was nice, and didn’t act irritable.
He was nervous as they drew around. The sad boy
was forced out of the corner. They made room.
From then on, she never had a fight with her
Pushed her out of the way. He was the sad boy in 11
brother and she was the happiest person in the
the light. And one by one they forgot about her.
world.
All he ever wanted was to be the sad boy in the
The End.
corner. Now all she was was the sad girl in the
corner.
Tuck and Roll
The End.
There once was a man who fell over. He tried
to catch himself with his arms. As a result, he
dislocated his shoulder. The moral of this story: If Ugly Siblings
you fall over, tuck and roll. Don’t catch yourself
with your arms extended, because you can dislo- Once upon a time, there was a beautiful fairy
cate/break things. princess who ran away from home because her
sister was ugly. The moral of this story is that we
The End. should all run away from home if we have ugly
siblings.

Please send us a vote for your fa-

The End.
vorite Fairy Tale, at <inconspicu-
ouslit@gmail.com> or online at
<http://www.inconspicuous.uni.
cc>. You may also submit your
own Fairy Tale to <inconspicu-
ouslit@gmail.com> or online at
Stupidity, like virtue is its own reward.
<http://www.inconspicuous.uni.
cc>. Word limit is 200; Submis-
- Bill Davidsen
sions are anonymous by default.
 Inconspicuous Submissions

Emo Poetry Alone In Musings

Alone in musings
Stale. Bread sits triumphantly unthought
Pen scratching bites
Of mind

In hell chance no sittings

Forget inspiration; Satan
Enflames poetry in the body
(Standing o’er bony shoulders,

Crushed throughout years of godless

You Smiled
Demons.) Crusty ceilings scream
For silence. Far away choir in
you smiled at me as you stocked the chips
The corner only a whisper. Heated,
so i swung to the music to show off my hips
and when i dropped those bags of who knows what
Condemned soul clutching a perturbed
i guess i was just distracted with glancing at your butt
Heart, whispering for salvation, she
i punched in the wrong keys and i forgot all the codes
Comes. (Not white, nor colored -simple purity
12 and everytime i look at you my heart kinda of explodes
Untained; freedom unhampered. Delicate
i giggled with customers feeling almost too cute
meanwhile squishing and mixing up their fruit
Words slipping doubts into doubts.)
so i hope i happen to find you after my shift
Lazarus one drop drops, tempting muse’
until then ill just let my silly mind drift
Surrender. Heaven in agony too perfect;
Sinner in searing safety sits

Further falling for h

I AM EMO. e
l
i am emo l
look at me cri
i cannot spell
i stqy up larte to cut
cut cut cut
i am emo

Send in your emo poetry to in-

conspicuouslit@gmail.com!
Every issue readers will also
decide on their favorite poem
and send their decisions to In-
conspicuous.

Stupidity is better kept a secret than displayed.

- Heraclitus of Ephesus
 Submissions Volume I | Issue ii

Waterstained Psyche Issue One’s Winner:

Blue faces To dream again You won’t listen,
Apathetic And I don’t want to re-
Swim an azure sea of raindrops You won’t listen but member,
These words pour from my But
lips – Somewhere after the
Bitter thunder,
Raindrops Angry Before the light,
Dropping downward As everything shatters Between
Downward toward the abyss And my tears The nightmares
Drip between my broken And daydreams…
Abyss of drowning souls fingers I found your doorstep,
Souls reaching for a hand As it rains And for a moment
A hand to dry their tears And reality drifts I understood your world
Away into the dark As I looked out across the
Endless tears of injustice, Flooding my emptiness dreaming city –
With your silence: And you smiled at me
Broken creatures’ pain, Wet grass and bare feet Before you remembered,
Search for relief Running nowhere. too.
understanding
healing Games
escape from this world
A game that you and I have played -
All too often:
A pale sky greets them, Across the room we stare,
Pounding them to death with their own tears. Deadlocked eyes and shadowed dreams.
My lips would long to speak 13
Ego
If trembling into silence you stood here,
I feel like my heart is breaking all over again If in a dream you were changed
For a million different reasons And by the light you knew
This beauty raining down around my soul No difference.
Is sharp bitter sunshine I swore it was true,
In a world so far from reality But I lie even to myself-
Dresden is burning next door In these pockmarked shadows,
Oblivious to our piteous love songs Scars of light across the forest flora
But there is no you and no I to speak of Dance between nightmares,
There are moments when you see through the Fading embraces
Illusion Of the stars.
And can’t figure out how to This haunting demon,
Escape Phantasm of ages gone,
The wonder captivates Towering fires would tell you
Your wide eyes search my new falseness The truth you could not see
Unaware in this new Between my false words
Dream Of dew-drop steam
I am ego We kissed when we awoke.
I am soul That was neither beginning nor end but
I am more alone A subtle step.
Every moment you fall
And
Creativity is the sudden cessation of stupidity.

I will not catch you this time. - Edwin Land

 Inconspicuous Story

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF

CID BOWLER

T he raucous sounds of a mistuned piano drifted merrily down the dark streets of End City. The
precarious maze of half-built houses seemed alive with sound, and, were one to find oneself more
than twenty paces from Bottle Bottom Saloon, the whimsical twinkling would have been lost amongst
the laughter, cries, screams, singing and various other sounds of nightly activity in this city of sin.

Inside, at the keys sits none other than the protagonist of this tale. A dashing lad of twenty-one, sound
in body and mind, topped with a mop of sandy brown curls and a trigger finger faster than any who
had yet drawn against him. Yes, our man was talented, handsome and deadly. Yet his face was marred:
14 marred by a scar across his left eye and the bright red tinge from it.

The man’s name was Cid, Cid Bowler to be exact, and he was in need of work. This need is what brings
our hero to this dusty, whore-laden bar, in the dusty, whore-laden district of the dusty, whore-laden
paradise that was End City.

Back when Cid was eight years old, still a boy in his father’s eye, a babe in his mother’s, and a man in
his own, Patrick Bowler (Cid’s father) pulled his son up to the cracked wooden piano that stood in
their parlor, and told him to play.

Now, there are two reasons for which the Bowlers kept that old piano. The first was: it had belonged
to the late aunt May and had been her fondest possession. The second was that no one else owned a
piano. With this piano, they scraped again at the bottom of the barrel of society that had never been
properly filled.

When Patrick told young Cid, who by means of his red eye had earned the nickname “Sin,” to play, the
child was at a loss. But, being resolved in pleasing his father, and proving he could succeed, he creaked
down onto the wooden stool, ignored how it wobbled, and layed his fingers upon what was left of the
ivory keys.

The sound he produced can be most accurately described as “Pee-crun-cher-lark-unk:” all quite fast,
and only for an instant. But to Cid’s ears it was immediately the most pleasing sound he had ever
heard. He sat at the piano for nearly seven hours before his mother finally insisted that he lay down his
head to sleep. While his mind wandered that night, he fancied himself in heaven, where the angel’s
harps made that wondrous noise, “pee-crun-cher-lark-unk”!
It’s too bad that stupidity isn’t painful.

- Some French Guy

 Story Volume I | Issue ii

For the next few days, months, and years, Cid always found time to come back to the stool and sit
himself down to hear the sounds, and, by the time he was fifteen, he was easily the best pianist in the
county.

Back in that present day in 1873, Cid was looking for work. And so, that night, he found himself sitting
in front of a piano, banging out the tunes that, tomorrow, would bake his bread.

Standing up from his set, he was met by no recognition of completion. The only patrons at the time
were drunks too poor to buy a whore, or whores too drunk to tempt the poor. Cid walked towards the
bar, where the barkeeper endlessly worked that futile job of wiping down the beer-stained counter, and
asked for a verdict.
“Well,” said the man, cautiously
slinging the dirty rag over his
shoulder, “you play like a son
of a bitch, and the Remington
at your side says you live like
one. No, I can give you better
praise than that. You’re the best
damned piano player I’ve ever
laid eyes or ears on. I’d love to
give you the job. But your eye…
it gives me the willies, and I 15
don’t want trouble because a
paranoid, superstitious, drunk-
en customer of mine gets shot
down by that aforementioned
Remington. I’ll give you room
and board, tonight, and money
that’ll buy you food for tomorrow, but that’s all I can do for you.”

Disheartened, Cid turned slowly away. As though through some mystical premonition, he dropped
his hand to the butt of his gun. Behind him, the bartender’s doe like eyes widened in horror, and he
prepared to scurry, rabbit-like, under the counter. But his fears were unwarranted. At that second the
door slammed wide open, prompted eagerly by the boot of a man, masked and clothed in black.

In a burst of gunfire, Cid dropped, rolled and drew. Twitching his hand and finger repetitively against
the hammer, he fanned six bullets into the attacker before he could move. Scrambling back from
cover, the bartender looked on in amazement as Cid caught the falling man, reached into his pocket,
removed a wad of bills and released him to the floor.

“Holy shi... sir, if you’ll shoot like that for me, I’ll let you play the piano all you want. This place has
been robbed nine times in as many weeks, with a man like you to guard, I may just turn a profit this
year. Yeah, you lay them down like you laid him down and I’ll provide for you.”

Between a fellow who is stupid and honest and one who is

smart and crooked, I will take the first. I won’t get much out of
him, but with the other guy, I can’t keep what I’ve got.

- Unknown
 Inconspicuous Periodical

2010
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, January 10, 2010
6:36 pm
H_____

The roaring of the subway sounded like some lion captured in a tornado, blasting from the end of the urine-
smelling tunnel while two furious bright but beady lights headed towards me. I stepped towards the yellow
line, waiting for the tell-tale gust of air which would make my short brown hair jump back from my face.

vvvvvrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooommmmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhh....

“Welcome to Chicago Transit Authority Green Line. We are now at State.”

A set of double doors stopped before me and a mass of people flooded out and out, seemingly never-ending,
while I struggled to fight through, finding my foot on the subway floor.

When I was little, I hated Alice in Wonderland because of the awful cat, with its big grin and eyes that wanted to
eat you up or laugh at you when something awful happens. I used to shudder uncontrollably when I thought of him
16 disappearing, until the only thing left of him was the floating grin, the sadistic teeth… It reminded me of the clowns
in fairy tales that chased after little children in the circus to kill them. I kept on having nightmares of dancing cats.

I think I was about five when I watched it, and then my mom took me to the subway and the terrible machine be-
came a replica of the cat itself, only it was heading towards me closer closer closer until I almost froze and fell over
out of fright. That’s when I realized that people are stupid: stupid for voluntarily entering into the body of the monster
and never really coming out quite the same as before, stupid for never really thinking, stupid for watching the mass
of bodies and bodies and bodies swarm in and out and not doing anything about it.

I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach over this tall and fat man who was hogging the bar handle. Not that
it mattered anyway, since there were so many people that I couldn’t move. The lady whose head was an
inch from mine reeked of musky men’s cologne, and I could hear gagging sounds from the boy also squished
next to her.

Ding.

“We are now at Randolph. Our next stop will be Madison. Please do not ...”
The lady rammed into me.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

I watched sadly as she stumbled through the piles of bodies; the boy stopped coughing.

Ding. My purse buzzed. Hastily scrambling for my cell phone, while the boy’s eyes watched it intensely,
I answered.

I discovered early in my movie work that a movie

is never better than the stupidest man connected
with it.

- Ben Hecht
 Periodical Volume I | Issue ii

“Hi.”
“Hey,” responded the male voice on the other end.
“Where are you?”
“I’m still on the subway. Two more stops, I think.”
“Good. We’re all waiting for you.”
“Sorry. You know how it is - the weather, the people.”
“Yeah, sometimes I wonder why we do this.”
“Me too.”

The grayness is blinding me.

“How are ... they?” I whispered.

“_____y fed them the wrong info.”
“Sweet.”

Ding.

“We are now at Adams. Our next stop will be Roosevelt...”

“ I heard that. I’ll see you in ten or so minutes then.”
“Yep. Bye.”

The boy’s eyes still followed the cell phone as I placed it into my bag. I smiled. He looked away, face
clouded by a flush of red.

vvvvvrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooommmmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhh.... and
17
Ding.

“We are now at Roosevelt. Our ... “

I stepped out of the subway and was nearly hurled across the room from the momentum of the crowd. I’ll
bet it was still snowing outside. Except, it never really was snow in Chicago. More like mud-bitten hail,
not the pretty fluffy flakes that you see in National Geographic of Greenland or something.

It was eleven at night, and we didn’t think about anything but putting sheets of paper together, then cardstock,
then gold tabs to make it beautiful and perfect. We knew it was rushed. We knew it was crude. But we loved it.
That’s all it needed.

Time was mocking us, like it always does. Tick, tock, driving us to insanity while with every tick and tock we put
another batch together, and with another tick, tock, and tick we smashed food into our mouths. We were God-
damn proud and dumb for not knowing what was going to happen.

I think now it’s become a drug: driving us not because of the pride but because we have to. There’s no reason not
to, and all of us are too scared to give it all up and pretend it never existed. But even now we aren’t willing to ad-
mit that part of each of us wished it were only a dream that would burn and desiccate like all other foolish dreams.

The escalator slowly rose up and up, taking me from the barren underground of oil, noise, and machinery.
The darkness, illuminated by artificial light, didn’t provide much contrast with the grayness of the subway
station. I climbed some stairs, and some more, one two three fifty-two, and some hallways here and there,
until the damned double doors, labeled, “EXIT,” finally appeared. Time to go home.

I am patient with stupidity, but not with those

who are proud of it.

- Dame Edith Sitwell

 Inconspicuous Periodical

I marched slowly down the street; a group of giggling voices somewhere in the background of the cement
scenery sang,

Ring around the rosie...

I arrived at the right building suddenly, without even realizing, and my bright red, almost purple fingers
gripped the icy keys in the bag. Click.

A pocket full of posies

The old man, who looked like he was ready to fall over, was waiting in line with three other people for the
elevator. There are too many people in Chicago, and all they ever do is wait on other people and watch their
lives move on, the minutes tick away.

Ashes, Ashes...

I headed towards the stairs instead, the fiftieth staircase I had had to face so far since work with those sick,
bleeding, coughing-their-lungs-out-and-filling-the-air-with-viruses-and-gunk patients who engulfed more
of my sanity than the station itself.

Ashes, Ashes ...

It’s strange how by the time you get to the fifth level, when you’ve barely started looking over the first three
or four or five blocks around the building, everything seems empty, as if God sucked all the souls and bodies
from your area so you’re finally left alone. Not that it made much of a difference.

Ashes, Ashes ...

18
I halted in front of the door that was decaying around the edges; the floor squealed uncomfortably beneath
my toes. I hit the doorbell, half bored, half anxious to see the faces that risked their lives for this.

“Hello.”
“It’s me, H______.”

Click. Clickity click click. More clicks.

The door opens, and a relieved face stared back at me.

“We’ve been waiting.”

“I know, you said that already.”
“Yeah, I’ve always hated redundancy.”

Children’s laughter rippled in the background, and the door slammed shut.

“To Inconspicuous?”

I grinned.

“To Inconspicuous.”

And we all fall down.

The laughter echoed, and I thought carelessly of the children’s innocence that drifted my way.

The great and almost only comfort about being a To Be Continued ...
woman is that one can always pretend to be more
stupid than one is, and no one is surprised.

- Freya Stark
 Excerpt Volume I | Issue ii

COLD PRECIPITATION

H omework piled up. People got stressed, lost sleep, finished projects, partied, and got stressed
again. Relationships grew and fell. Drama happened. Drama was avoided. The normal life of a
group of high school friends continued on.

In no time, February was long gone and March was slowly going over the horizon. Spring Break was
late this year - the last week of March; which meant by the time it came around, everybody was ready
to kill. There weren’t that many big plans for the week, though some families were going on trips.
The kids just couldn’t wait to get out of school. A drive up to the snow was planned for Tuesday, and
Helen was up very early that morning. She hadn’t thought she’d see snow this year, but it had been
cold and had snowed late, so there it was - waiting.
19
She couldn’t sleep. She’d only been in the mountains once during her entire life. It was an extreme
understatement, then, to say that Helen was excited. She was actually bouncing off the walls for
4 hours until Jacob came and picked her up at 9:00. Her parents annoyingly decided to grill Jacob
about his driving habits, and their plans for the day, and demand that Helen keep her cell phone on
at all times, and that she had to be home by 10 o’clock at the very latest. Once she was safely in the
car, Ethan and Jacob listened to her bemoan the fact that parents existed. Then they were off to pick
up Alec. Another car of friends - Kat, Thomas, Charlie, and James - was driving up there also, and
they were all planning on meeting each other at an apparently well known snow park.

Helen couldn’t wait. The car was filled with snow

tubes, skis, snowboards, extra layers of clothes, and
lots of food. Excessive amounts of fun would be had
on this day, she knew it. It was just turning out won-
derful. After an hour and a quarter of driving and
singing (badly) along with Alec’s iPod and laughing
at stupid people, Ethan saw the first speck of snow
on the side of the road. He yelled “Snow” and Helen
flipped out. She practically jumped on top of him to
look out the window and when he pushed her back to her side of the seat, she whipped around and
pressed her nose tightly against her own window. For 10 minutes she didn’t say a word, just stared out
the window. The guys laughed hysterically for a while and then lapsed into their own quiet, fascinated
searches for snow. At the end of those ten minutes - exactly 23 seconds after those ten minutes - Helen
jerked back from the window and shouted - no, positively exploded with - “Snow!” Alec jumped and
Just think of how stupid the average person is, and
then realize half of them are even stupider.

- George Carlin
 Inconspicuous Excerpt

swore loudly, Ethan dropped the iPod, and Jacob swerved halfway into the oncoming lane. “Fuck,
Helen. Why’d you have to yell?” Ethan chided her. “Sorry,” she replied, sheepishly, “it’s just…it’s
snow! You have to be excited about snow!” Alec rolled his eyes in her direction, “You don’t have to
be that excited.”

Jacob, after he’d gotten over the shock of practically killing them all, just chuckled quietly. Helen was
so much like a child sometimes. It just made her that much more fun to be around. After the incident
with the first, or actually second, patch of snow, Helen refrained from shouting, but she still alerted
the rest of the car to every new splotch of snow and the guys soon found they couldn’t interest her in
any conversation or game for the next 30 minutes. She just sat there, grinning, with her nose freezing
right against the window. Once they got close to their destination she started talking to them again,
only because the snow was everywhere and she found she wasn’t able to call out “snow” every single
second.
The second group had gotten there a good 15 minutes
before and they were already layered in clothing and
frolicking in the snow mounds. Charlie drove too fast.
20 Ethan, Helen, and Alec were out of the car before
Jacob had even parked it. They threw open the trunk,
threw on some more clothes, and threw themselves
in the snow. The snow tubes were soon out and the
group walked a ways up the path to find the best sled-
ding spot, a patch on both sides of the trail. The right
side was shorter and more conventional, but the left - the left was amazing. It resembled a water slide,
minus the running water. It was probably 15 feet long and it curved sporadically and grew steeper or
shallower as it descended. They just stood in awe for a good minute or two, until Kat shrieked that she
was first, grabbed a tube, and made her way to the top.

After a good hour and a half of sliding, rolling, and falling down giant snow piles, the group decided to
move on to the downhill slopes. Charlie, James, Thomas, Jacob, and Ethan were planning on skiing.
Helen decided she would pass on flinging herself down steep mountains with no braking plan, so she,
Kat, and Alec played in the snow some more. They could never get too much of the snow.

The skiers returned, in no time, and Ethan and Jacob walked up last, both flushed with the cold and
oblivious to the snow coating their clothes. After a short and vicious snowball fight, Helen sat down on
a little wall a few feet away from her friends to rest. She watched them laughing hysterically together.
Alec threw back his head with his mouth wide enough to catch birds. Helen couldn’t help but smile.
His jet black hair stood out so deeply against the white of the snow. Kat was holding onto Thomas’
shoulder to keep from falling over from laughing. It looked like Jacob or Charlie had just said something
very funny. Charlie had his typical goofy grin on his face, more pronounced than normal because of

Only two things are infinite, the universe and hu-

man stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.

- Albert Einstein
 Excerpt Volume I | Issue ii

21

Image copyrighted by Inconspicuous Staff. All Rights reserved.,

the size of the laugh. James was holding his stomach and grinning along with Charlie. Both Jacob and
Ethan were doubled over. From Helen’s point of view they looked like they were attempting to eat
the snow behind them. She decided it was time she joined them, and walked up in time to catch a
second dirty joke. More raucous laughter followed. Then the small group trooped back to their cars,
still grinning. It was time to head home and get warm.

Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is

not thus handicapped.

- Elbert Hubbard
 Inconspicuous
Hey Gertrude
High school is full of melodra-
ma and zing that older people
commonly can’t grasp because
of new technology, a differ-
ent economy, and an overall
change since way back when.
Abigail van Buren is a sweet
and well-meaning lady, but the
flavor of our real life is miss-
ing from her responses, which
resemble a much better orga-
nized world than the one we
actually live in. If you want to,
do, or have written to her, we
22
22
hold nothing against you.
But for those of you who want
advice from someone living in
the same sphere as you, dear
ol’ Abby just can’t cut it. In-
stead, we offer you words from
one of your very own, Gertrude
Kalinowsky*. Has the shit hit
the fan? Do you need, or per-
haps more accurately, want,
advice from a familiar strang-
er? Then boy do we have the
thing for you!
Enjoy. Instructions for send-
ing in your own “Hey Gertrude”
question follow the following
exemplary question.
--The Inconspicuous Staff
* All bylines for staff members are
necessarily falsified.
It’s so simple to be wise. Just think think of
stupid to say and say the opposite.
- Sam Levenson
Submissions
Hey Gertrude,
Two of my close friends who are
dating want me to join a three-
some with them. I don’t think
I’m ready for something like
that, but how do I tell them no
without hurting their feelings?
-Odd Girl Out
Hey “Odd Girl,”
There is no shortage of sexual
styles, and what makes a rela-
tionship work is the pairing of
two similar types. Your friends, it
seems, are well paired; however,
you, with them, are not. You’re
an apple while they are devil’s
food cake. On the sexual scale
of foods, apples are rather mild:
tasty, sweet, but straightforward.
What you need to remember is
the lesson of Adam and Eve:
apples are pretty fucking tempt-
ing, even to devil’s food cake,
that exotic and mind blowing
food (damn sexiest ever made).
But I digress; not everyone can
handle the saturation of divine
pleasure devil’s food cake pro-
vides, and you, it seems, need
to work your way up the karmic
cycle to sexual nirvana. That is
the damn honest truth.
And lying only fucks up friend-
ships, and as you are trying not
to fuck with them (literally or
figuratively), I highly suggest not
doing that--which leaves one
option: that terribly scary idea of
honesty.
You aren’t ready to rock the bed
with two others, and if they are
truly your friends, that is that.
You aren’t insulting them. And
really, any hard feelings are fool-
ish and immature.
Blow the bed sheets when you
are ready.
Love,
Gertrude.
You may submit your own Hey Ger-
trude question to <inconspicuouslit@
gmail.com> or online at <http://
www.inconspicuous.uni.cc>. Sub-
missions are anonymous by default.