EDITORIAL - REVENGE OF YOUR EX-EDITOR
Or: Why it is so mindhorrendously stupid that everybody loves to
drown in the sea of love...
Or even: A student's chronicle of the ultimate moral decay...
It is now several hours ago that Stefan called me, and I am now
sitting in my tiny room typing this editorial.
"Richard," Stefan suggested, "why don't you write an editorial
this time?" Well, I agreed to do so and here I am. Writing or,
rather, attempting to write something that can more or less be
described as being 'an editorial'.
Outside, there's a drizzling rain. It's getting later in the
evening, but the moon cannot be seen - it's to be doubted
whether it would shed any light on my gloomy mood if it did.
Many questions bulge through my poor and throbbing head: Why am
I feeling gloomy? Why do people enjoy wearing digital watches?
Why am I? Why is my upper neighbour (the one with several HUGE
amplifiers and a minddeafening lack of knowledge as to how to
handle his electric guitar properly)? Why am I allowing these
mindnumbing questions to bother me?
The reason for all this: I feel really lonely. And when I write
this down, I do mean: REALLY mindparalyzingly lonely.
On the floor of the student's flat I live in (that looks quite
much like any other 'regular' flat, with the exception that our
staircase is public and therefore mindmurderingly filthy),
fourteen other students live. They vary from raging nuts that
study lawschool as well as silent types to fellow biology
students and mindexcitingly nice girls. Well, as you might have
guessed, none of these nice girls are here at the moment; they
have ALL gone home for the weekend - which I couldn't do since I
had to finish a lotta ST NEWS articles before visiting Stefan and
finishing the whole damn thing. Among these girls, there's one
girl called Trea that I am gradually beginning to build up
minddefyingly deep feelings for. We have spent whole afternoons,
evenings, nights and mornings talking and hugging and doing all
kindsa things, and being without all her attention for a massive
60 hours in a row is pretty mindcompressingly irritating, I can
assure you. And there's still a good lot of those 60 hours to
So I think it's mindstrikingly clear that I feel mindkillingly
lonely. Quite mindboilingly so.
Just to make everything worse, Willeke is not here for me to
talk to, and my very first girlfriend (called Patricia, who I
just managed just about to get over with after just about eight
mindmurderingly frustrating years) is trying to get back into my
Stefan didn't order me to write this pretty minddrilling
editorial message just to make all you readers feel
mindcrunchingly depressed and lonely, too. So I will now cut this
mindastounding crap and continue with what I am supposed to be
doing here: Writing a mindstupendously interesting editorial.
Where was I?
Well, it's still raining a bit outside, and I have succeeded in
temporarily stopping the rain inside my torsus by undertaking a
brief quest to the toilet just down the hall. My stereo tower is
playing Queensrÿche's "Operation Mindcrime", and for some brief
moments in sequence I revive the magnificent concert I went to
last weekend (Queensrÿche and Metallica, Leiden, November 5th
1988). In fact, that whole weekend was mindrevivingly PERFECT.
After the concert there was Trea, and we......sorry. It got the
better of me again. I should write a note to visit my shrink
soon, since I seem to have these fits of 'subtle oral
exhibitionism' more and more often. And that's not what I am here
for, am I?
In the mean time, a bottle of Vieux is opened and I sip some of
it. Am I now beginning to become one of those mindpoisoningly
horrendous alcoholics, drinking all alone by myself, without any
apparent reason to do so? Anyway, the organic compounds contained
in that light brown and pleasantly scenting fluid make me forget
my sorrows for a while. In fact, they make me feel pretty gay as
far as that is possible with such a mindannoyingly gloomy mood.
Where was I, again?
Queensrÿche's CD is really mindincreasingly excellent - that's
probably the main reason why I bought it in the first place.
Add to that the really mindbroadeningly incredible fact that it
really manages to....
Er, well.....Girls....Alcoholic liquids.....Existentional
questions....Digital Watches.... Heavy Metal concerts....you sure
must be gettin' a pretty minddistortingly bad impression of me.
Shoot! Well, it is on evenings like this that I really don't even
care the least minddepressing little piece of dog's faeces what
people think of me, or what they think of what I do, or even what
they think of what I think. Well....I must admit that my moral
codes have weakened by a mindterrifyingly huge quantity lately
(since Friday night two weeks ago, to be precisely). But do not
falter, dear reader, as this is probably temporarily, and the
moral standards of old of yours truly were of such minddefeating
heights that even the aforementioned mindterrifyingly huge
quantities do not really decrease them to any mindnoticably
I just found out that it is mindrelievingly nice to write
something like the above with which I just confronted you, poor
and utterly innocent and unsuspecting reader. There must be
better ways to do so, though, without getting these highly
compromising details out into the open (in fact getting it to be
known all over the world). Darn! You could in fact blackmail me
by threatening to tell my dad about all this (in which case he
would probably feel mindensuringly inclined to quit his monthly
allowance to me)....
But I'd rather not even think about that!
Anyway, in spite of all this infinitely stupid garbage, I do
hope that you will enjoy reading any of the other articles in ST
NEWS - don't worry, they will probably not be as morally
devastating as this miserable excuse for an editorial. They might
in fact even be mindpleasingly nice - like you're supposed to be
used to after all, after being able to read 19 other issues of ST
NEWS with morally reasonably justifiable 'editorial' articles.
So I wish you lots of fun/success/whatever with reading this
issue of ST NEWS. I also wish to express my sincere apologies for
letting myself go like this (overdoing the 'human interest' part,
I suppose). Unfortunately, I have just made a solemn pledge to
myself to have this article published instead of deleting it from
my magnetic media carrier and writing a fresh and mindabusingly
censored version in the morning. Pity. I even want to go as far
as to wish you all a good night, since I will be hitting the sack
fairly soon now. In the morning I will probably be sobered up and
feel deeply guilty about this article. But to prevent me from
feeling even more guilty due to breaking my solemn pledge I just
made above, I will leave it be.
And that's why you have just been able to read it.
P.S. Now please don't think too badly of me. I'm not as bad as
you think. Just a bit mindirritatingly sad this evening.
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.