HIDDEN ARTICLE NUMBER II (TWO, TWEE, ZWEI, DEUX)
Some severely DEEP shit to be found here. Please get drunk (or
at least slightly intoxicated) before attempting to read this. It
will help you to get level with It.
It has been said that Stefan Posthuma can play guitar.
Of course, this is one of the most violent lies currently known
in the universe (even in the relatively unknown parts).
I can hear it at this very moment as he tries to unleash sounds
from it that I can't even produce when I'm beyond a state of
He calls this something impressionistic of border-group
youngsters under the influence of pseudo-religious drugs that
move themselves into the deeper meaning of existentialism through
all kinds of layers of meaning and love. He dedicated it to the
surviving martyrs of whatever. And, of course, an ode to her.
You have no idea what I have to go through here. His violent
anger with his existence urges him to seek a plectrum with which
he will violate the strings like the dictators of the current
world do with their citizens.
Of course, all this artistic creativity drains him a lot.
After a lot of thought he decided to compose a song that
portrays the addictiveness of current day youth with Japanese
He violently starts hitting the guitar strings with a Gameboy
(my Gameboy, goddammit!).
It doesn't take long.
Now he hits the strings with the embodiment of pseudo-
virtuality - a TV magazine.
He tries to mimic Jimi Hendrix (or maybe someone else).
Well, Mr. Posthuma. Please allow me to ask some questions for
our humble readers.
Please Mr. Posthuma.
I have just discovered the musical virtuosity of a battery!
He is plucking at the string with a rechargable battery.
Mr. Posthuma, please restrain yourself. Answer some questions.
Why do you seek ways of expressing yourself in a world that
seems to be completely void of meaningful musical expression if
it were? Where do you get the thought that people are waiting for
none less than you to bring them into touch with this new sort of
sound, this wholly new and TRUE way of composing and creating of
First, he sighs very deeply, plucking in what seems like a
meaningless way at the strings. His eyes are filled with meaning,
Oh shit. Erm...You know...
Yeah, I can see that Mr. Posthuma, but please feel free to
elaborate within the vastness of your aura.
I use the guitar to get rid of my extraveinous possibilities
that my mind offers me but my rationality is not able to cope
with. So I trust these innermost atrocities to
the...er...animosity of a guitar. I hope in this way the
listeners will experience that our minds are slaves of
establishment and non-realism.
I see, I see. Have you ever thought about the guitar, though? I
know it is common view nowadays that musical instruments are
inanimate, indeed, lifeless, objects but modern theories indicate
otherwise. What is your viewpoint to this?
When my expressionism reaches its climax I almost have sex with
the guitar (Mr. Posthuma strikes a meaningful chord). To me it
has a life as a virgin on the brink of discovering the joyce of
SEX (another meaningful chord or two there)! The guitar talks to
me whenever I hit the strings, and thus I feel it enthuses my
power, my mental mastery over all of its six strings - and the
case as well. But yet I seek not to dominate it. I let its
natural flow intertwine with my brainwaves and thus I become ONE
with my musical instrument.
Sure thing Mr. Posthuma.
Accidentally, what is your opinion about cows?
I think black Agnus beefsteak is pretty good by the way.
Especially if you serve it with a jacked potato and a slice of
I can see by the depth of your replies that you are very
involved in the world around you. Do you see the world like most
people see it or do you, for example, look upon it much like
other people do?
The world is but a place filled with insubstantial entities that
revolve around the vortex of non-existence, but now I have to
express myself again. Please excuse me.
Mr. Posthuma starts to jump on his guitar, sticking parts of his
anatomy in it. He is getting one with his musical instrument. He
also starts to shake his head a bit, yelling "taken my sight,
taken my hearing, taken my arms, taken my legs, taken my soul,
left me with life in hell!" and a bit more that I can't make out
because at that time he lapses into a language that I cannot
understand but that sounds slightly like ancient Kantonese.
It takes minutes.
Then he gets by, sweating and panting.
You have just witnessed the first acoustical exorcism performed
in this plane of existence. The darker powers of dischord seek to
overwhelm the good in natural sound and expressionism but by
subjecting the guitar to a master-slave relation in a violent way
I succeeded in overcoming this abomination that threatens the
very core of musical peace.
Sure thing, Mr. Posthuma.
Unfortunately, we're running out of time here so I'll have to
quit this by stating that we will have an even far more
interesting interview next month, when I will talk with the
parking attendant at the Klaxos 9 institute for the Very, Very
Welcome to this month's episode of "The Most Violently Intricate
and Above All Ultimately Interesting Interviews This Side of
Klaxos 9". This month, we have bestowed upon ourselves the utter
pride of having with us a representative of the clan of parking
attendants at the...er....Klaxos 9 Institute for the Very Very
Mr. Posthuma, can you please introduce yourself?
Naaaaaa....pffff...what's the use anyway?
I can see that, of course, you will have difficulty answering
this question. What is your opinion about snails?
They move too fast for me.
I see. Well, folks, I suppose that was yet another one of those
enticingly exciting episodes of whatever this show is called.
See you next month, where we will have an even more interesting
(The broadcast is interrupted by an eerie kind of 'click',
followed by what sounds like a shot of a revolver. A soft 'thud'
ends the broadcast totally).
The scene: A mountain ledge.
It's cold. Very cold. An icy wind tries to penetrate the marrow
of all bones present. Only, their are no bones for the wind to
penetrate the marrows of. Not yet, that is.
There's snow as well. Light filters are present on all cameras
We are here to film world famous mountaineer, Mr. Posthuma. He
is reported to have climbed this mountain 42 times already, and
this time he wanted to do it backwards (i.e. feet first).
There is an eerie kind of feeling in the air, that's a
bit...er...eldritch, really (really!).
A small dot gets visible in the distance.
It's getting closer. Fast.
We will soon be able to be the first team ever to catch a
glimpse of this famous mountaineer that will enter history of
existential mountain climbing in a very eerie (and eldritch) way.
Well, that was short for certain.
See you next month in our exciting series "Mountaineers all over
the globe", where we will interview the expedition leader that is
trying to reach the 'patch of hill on yonder horizon' on a planet
where due to a freakout in the space-time continuum an endless
swamp has been created between the mountaineer's house and that
jolly nice-looking patch of hill.
So it's beddy-byes.
This episode of 'homes of the rich and famous' is a bit of a
corker, really. This time we have God here.
The one and only.
First, Mr. Posthuma, I have always been kinda anxious to ask you
the following questions. What do you think of AIDS? What do you
think about expressionism in guitar music? What do you think of
religion as a whole? What do you...
Excuse me. May I first answer some before you continue like a
young rascal or something?
I would first like to get down to the expressionism in guitar
music. I am a bit of an Yngwie Malmsteen fan myself, and I
consider his job worth a spot in heaven once he decided to pop
off or something. I am willing to wager a deal with the devil
- Brutal cut -
(This is such total religious crap that we do not want to get
along with this).
...and in tonight's episode we have an interesting meeting with
the Leader of the Clan Of The Worshippers Of The Empty Coke Can
With Something In It.
Mr. Posthuma, would you like to say something?
Well...er...you can't beat the feeling.
Maybe the next new generation will chose me. Praise the light-
weight bottle with one Dutch guilder of return money on it!
(Mr. Posthuma lapses into chanting about new kinds of light-
weight plastics, and the way they get returned to super markets).
We just discovered a new kind of demi-God. The guys at the super
market that take the empty Coke bottles back, that is. They
complain a lot about the fact that there's sometimes something
left in it. We think this is the ultimate religious experience.
I think that this calls for some instant improvisation. Let's
get one of those...whaddayacall'em....demi-Gods here.
Meet Martijn, who is a part time...er...demi-God at the local
Albert Heyn super market here.
Mr. Martijn, er...
Get that Posthuma off me. I don't like people licking my feet.
Not even dogs do that (not even when they're called Chester).
But he was The One that discovered the Last Drop of Coke left in
a bottle I returned last Friday, April 21st, at 3:02 hours PM. We
are thinking about setting up a pilgrimage franchise there. It's
bound to get us some dough, though.
We think this conversation is not leading the network anywhere.
I have to care about viewing ratings and modern-day religious
business is not likely to be of any benefit there.
- Brutal cut -
(No not more of that reli-crap)
And now for something completely different.
Or was it a condom?
....and this month we have an Atari ST Escape key here!
What is your opinion about the meaning of life? What does
current-day existentialism mean for a piece of plastic that
usually only gets pressed when people want to clear something, or
want to stop doing something?
Well, it's 27 of course, and very depressing on top of that. As
a matter of fact, in the Association of Depressed Intergalactic
Beings located at the planet of Multifizzic Omega, I am the only
one that's even more depressed than good old Marv'.
Yeah, sure, Marv'.
Ah. Marv'. Of course. Who else?
Yeah, yeah. Though this whotsisname, a mercenary of some kind,
is also very depressed ever since he cleaned the loo at the local
Thai boxing School one day.
Good morning. Welcome to the Jolly Roger Breakfast Show, the
show with definitely the lowest viewing ratings this side of a
Klaxos 9 soap.
We have heard that 3 people have been watching this show
yesterday, so today we have thought up a subject that may
eventually cause even these three fanatics to cease watching us,
and maybe go to work.
This morning we have with us Dr. Posthuma, who is currently...
That's Dr. STEFAN Posthuma, if you please.
Ah well, I see. Er...Dr. Stefan Posthuma, who is currently
conducting research into the subject of draught.
Heavens. My memory seems to leave me in the lurch ever more
often nowadays. I must remind myself not to forget to make a
mental note to visit...
Sure, Dr. Pos..Dr. Stefan Posthuma. As I said, you have been
conducting research into the subject of draught, a most common
Ah! Ah! There is the first misconception already! Draught is
indeed quite a RARE phenomenon - that is, if my research will be
proven by practise.
How interesting. Please continue.
(A voice in the background cries: "Two to go!")
Draught, as we know it, is largely psychological. Image yourself
standing outside, with the wind blowing. Now most of us, indeed
almost anyone, would consider that nice. A cool breeze refreshes
the mind, does it not? One would for example not consider this to
be a cause of, for example, getting flu or a cold.
No. Indeed not. Refreshing the mind indeed. Not a cold or so.
But, once we are standing in a room with two windows opened in
opposing walls, we experience the same wind - but this setup is
known frequently to lead to a cold or even flue.
Yes. Indeed. A cold indeed.
(A voice in the background cries: "One left!")
Now imagine a railway station. A fairly big one. Two sides are
open, and there's this thing we call 'draught'. The two closed
sides are quite far off. Very far off indeed.
I can see that. What would you mean by that, Doctor?
What does one see when one looks up? A kind of ceiling. What is
on top of the room I mentioned earlier? A ceiling. So I'd like to
state that the vicinity of a ceiling or roof can cause a cold, of
even a flu!
(The Doctor raises his hands, filled with meaning. A voice in
the background cries hoarsely: "Zero!")
Thank you very much Dr. Posthuma.
Er...that's Dr. STE....(cut)
This is the end of the deepest (or is it 'lowest'?)
hidden article yet to be conceived. Bye.
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.