En hånd å holde i A hand to hold
En hånd å trekke i A hand to pull
En hånd å dra hardt i A hand to pull hard
En hånd å bite i A hand to bite
En hånd å kutte av A hand to cut off
En hånd å gi bort A hand to give away
En hånd å bli kvitt agresjonen på A hand to get rid of agression
En hånd å roe seg ned med A hand to calm me down
har du en hånd til meg? Do you have a hand for me?
(G.E.A., the Insanely Witty Lonely One)
THE SEVENTH HIDDEN ARTICLE - HIDDEN ARTICLE NUMBER SEVEN
(Which is not a lot, but we think it's rather nice nonetheless)
Fairly recently, the UK band Carcass brought out a new CD. As
usual, it is completely filthy, sick, and the harbinger of utter
joy for people like me (and a few others).
Thanks, Testicle Shredder, for advising me to get this one! As I
have a CD rental service near, I got it soon after you uttered
your revered words of advice. May our taste forever prevail above
them blighters that listen to hip-hop and house (i.e. the most
utter crap available, and worse).
What else can I do to reveal to you the joys of Carcass
rather than copying down some of the lyrics off the latest thing
they sprouted forth, like an abcess?
So here they be!
Lavaging Expectorate of Lysergide Composition
(Music by Steer, lyrics by Walker)
Officinal - immiscible compounds are mixed,
A gagging expectorate, of lycergic acids,
Premensely emersed, consciousness slowly slips,
Peculated, in an ebriating narcosis...
...Catalentic
Imbibe...neurotripsick...
Neurally numbed, a narcosis so trans-lucid,
So pernicious, halluciagenics,
Procreating, ocular contortion,
Your idiosyncrassy, is now expropriated...
...Extirpation
Mind...termination...
And some more...
Forensic Clinicism/The Sanguine Article
(Music by Steer, lyrics by Walker)
Salutiferous exaltation, through fusty sputterings I sift,
Cauterizing proud flesh, pyogenic corte I just yearn to rip,
With impalpable, cathartic tools, dilapidated lusts I gratify,
Cold premeditated surgery,
in my calculated surgery I hold your fragile life...
Pultacious...
Pugnacious...
Pernicious...
Acro-diopathic...
Artificially concussed, excavating to your gastric core,
Patulous, deep wounds, cascading and crimson as I explore,
Master at my bloody art, I like to carve sculpture and maim,
Mounted on the freezer's geurney,
you're exhibited until you enter into decay...
Pultacious...
Pugnacious...
Delicious...
Gastric-idiopathology...
Welcome to my theatre, the stage upon which I act,
Turning in a sumptuous performance, heiniously I hew and gash,
Churning out a deep gulch, the incision a major nick,
A quick toke of nitrous oxide is how I get my kicks...
Expurgating healthy tissue, opulent flesh I slit,
Costate cuts expunged as the patient I now fillet,
Malpractising and mussing carnage hyperventilates,
Self placebonic, the only job is to operate...
The recumbent are my prey - under my genial blade,
Your precordium I brutally plunder - whilst you're put under
Exanguinating - you're totally parched,
Exenterating - removing body parts,
Wholly abraded - Surgically maimed
Decortication - Medically slain
Contaminating, infecting, how I love to cough and sneeze,
On the carneous culture, to cause bacteria to breed,
Aneasthetised, paralysed, a clinical stupor is induced,
With callous dexterity your bodily mass is reduced...
I extract the gullet - to end up in my bucket,
A quick flick of my wrist - and I'll be struck off the list
Exanguinating - straight from the heart,
Exenterating - with my lancet so sharp,
Anatomically - my surgery maims,
Decortication - by the clinically deranged
Gross misconduct, I make the choicest cuts,
Text book stabs, written of your tag...
Wheeled away after a medical mishap,
In a polythene bag your body is now wrapped...
The acute wound now sealed up,
The picture of ill health, you're a bit cut up...
Exanguinating - straight from the heart,
Exenterating - with my lancet so sharp,
Anatomically - my surgery maims,
Decortication - by the clinically deranged
Some of the texts were actually corrected - they were wrongly
published in the booklet, but accurate listening revealed the
proper words...
You don't need to thank me for it.
Sigh...isn't English a beautiful language? Every time I read
lyrics like these, I yearn to become more experienced at using
the words with which authors like the above weave the tissue of
their thoughts!
Wow.
I will leave you all alone now. I will study the back cover a
bit more. Which part of the inner human anatomy is displayed
there?
Disclaimer
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.