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Cockamamie Caper

Did you hear about the guy who got busted and when the Cops were giving him a strip search they found a bag of Crack hidden in his foreskin! Not a Crack rock Folks. A bag of Crack! Wow. Alii can say to that story is very impressive indeed. Cod piece anyone?

cod piece - A pouch at the crotch of the tight-fitting breeches worn by men in the is" and 16th centuries.

Welcome to NIELZINE #77

I found a reason to lose weight the other day and no it's not so I can be a model for American Apparel. No Folks it's so I can wear myoid Concert shirts from the 80's. I found my stash the other day, while hiding drugs, and decided to try them on. Hilarious to say the least. Summer sausage anyone? While it was great looking over these lost treasures, it was also kinda a bummer that somewhere along the way I gained 30 pounds. J think if J was to weigh 175 again I wouldn't have to slather my ribcage with butter to enjoy these relics. So tonight I will daintily eat some carrots and yogurt and pound a six pack of beer and see what happens. Burp.

Actually I was on Etsy the other day and saw some old concert shirts for over $200 clams. I was like Holy shit! Screw the diet plan! Let's get in on some of this action! There's Gold in dem' hills! Megadeth shirt anyone?

Who we got this month? Well we got art by The Ink Monster Paul Ribera, Mr. Joe Leonard, and Danielle Pearl with Tommy Brown Eye VS. Nielzine! A sing- a-long with Beaver Hensley. Then all the way from Brandon, Manitoba, Canada! Matt Nothing slings us a story about Beer, Bikes, joblessness and Bong rips. Funny how no matter where ya live the stories all sound the same. We also have a special surprise from Myron Smith outta Ridgeway, Virginia with some Crazy Maze that will make ya scream to the very tippy toppy of Mt. Give Me A Fucking Clue How To Solve This Puzzle. We can also thank Mr. Snape for his Planet of The Apes contribution and that cute damn doggy. Other than that I have a very soar pimple on my underwear line that looks like a Spicy Tuna Roll.

Yours Brewly, Nielzine

Check out the movie: Hard Core Logo

Momma don't like me cause I party for kicks Daddy don't like me cause he thinks I'm a hippie My girlfriend left cause she didn't like my kiss That just proves she really didn't love me


I'll tell you whats #1 on my list I'm gonna cop that Sheen attitude

Get in my way and I'll make you eat fist I'm getting off on fucking winning dude



Beaver Hensley's CHROME RUBBER Copywrite2011Hensley


by matt nothing

Whenever things are a big pile of shit laying on the ground collecting mold and flies, nothing forces a regular breathing pattern better than a good long walk or bike ride. Solo is good but sometimes having some friends and some beers along isn't the worst. There was this trail I had mapped in my head that I would take when my dad had a house by the University. The trail went aU over the west side of Brandon. My dad's house was also near a middle school with a memorial park and baseball diamond next to it. A small stretch of the shitty city bike trail cuts through the centre on the diagonal, fading back into the road on one side and grass on the other.

The park was a familiar night-spot for me and various friends, a place to blaze and sit around outdoors without being hassled by anyone. The park was pock-marked with different kinds of benches, and had a swing set by some planters. After dark you could take your pick of spots to sit. There was rarely anyone around, maybe someone walking their dog.

r remember sitting there with three friends one time, late at night. It was one of the first truly cold days offall. We were all taking bong rips (yeah, outdoors) under the street lamps that dot the park's central path, talking about stupid stuff. Younger and dumb. A year or two later and the only time I was ever passing through the park was on my way to and from a midnight bakingjob at Tim Horton's, where I eventually met a girl and then fucked everything up including the job by walking out a couple of days after giving two weeks notice. Whatever, I hate working anyway. The last time I was at the park was over a year ago in the middle of a stint of misery and joblessness that wound up lasting a long time. I was there with Troy, a friend that always seems to have a beer for me, and his friend on a three-park beer tour. The night ended with Troy's friend accidentally smashing the window on an apartment building while pretending to kick the window on an apartment building. He took off faster than I've seen anyone move on a mountain bike after that. Me and Troy didn't pick up the pace one bit, laughing our cold asses off as we walked to our respective homes. Beingjobless and living in my dad's basement felt alright from that moment until the hangover the next day. Failure is almost always a bummer while it's happening. Ifwe were aU a little more Vulcan, we'd all take a look at our failures and be able to immediately extract the vital lessons in their cores. Not get bent out of shape by the act of failing. Being human and not even half-Vulcan, I've spent a lot of time laying face down in bed and an equal amount of time banging my head against walls, desks, telephone poles. Sometimes though I get the nerve and energy for it and walk until thinking about something else.

Slightly more relaxed.

The best cure I've ever found though, at least tbe most fun, is sunrise bike rides. It was 2008, a year of extreme un-employment. It was July. I'd been dumped a couple of weeks earlier and it was still fresh and painful. One night sleep was particularly impossible. Laying in bed trying to fall asleep wasn't working, so I flipped Oil the TV and began watching Star Trek TOS and whatever else I could find.lnfomericals, probably. Maybe Just For Laugbs: Gags. Before I knew it, it was 5 :45 in the morning and daylight was starting to consider poking it's lazy head above the horizon. There was nothing to do at the house but mope. The world outside, on the other hand, looked new and inviting. I hopped on my bike and began pedalling straight West. Taking back lanes and bike paths until I was on the gravel roads that mark up the foggy early morning Manitoba country-side. Turned left down the first road just as the sun began to rise. I didn't stop pedalling for miles, blaring Bomb the Music Industry! and other favourites and sweating through my shirt. To the left the sun grew increasingly bright, burning the atmosphere and my eyes, and drenching the Eastern side of the sky in a thick blanket of light that made the fields glow like billions of streetlights. To the right was still fog and darkness, an impenetrable foggy darkness that was terrifying and somehow alluring. Caught in between the light and the dark, cruising down the gravel road at unsafe speeds on a rickety bike. Surrounded by all this natural beauty, I couldn't help but smile. The shitty feeling started to go away. Sweat out during the intense three hour ride around the outskirts of the city. I came back home exhausted. Stumbled down loose old wooden stairs to my dad's basement and flopped down on my bed. Sweaty, heavy clothes removed, I finally had a good sleep. It didn't last forever but nothing does, so that's alright.

HBR f1?i1CK~ lJbKW ;j() NIC6 /)5 SHt; rCOK OfF cSOM~ OF HBR GWTH~S 10 ftlill. HeR ~NS.

o un up the Eye Patch and look into Ihe eye for your answer.


Made for f'.4cO's 2006 Pnnted in ChinA


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Tell em'Nielzine sent yo!

If you are interested in more stories from the Canadian prairie, then all you gotta do is email Matt Nothing at mahtt.fillyick@gmail.com. He told me NOTHING #2 is brewing up soon, so get yours while it's cold. or write:

Matt, P.o box 22078, Brandon, MB I R7A 6Y9

'1'1.]:",___ a

Ask for Myron Smith

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Other things to peek at. ~

Mr. Matt Snopes : A Wizard like blog from the Silver Mountain: This blog is updated often for those of you like myself that need "something" or our ~inds will explode. www.thedailyhologram.blogspot.com

Beaver Hensley Blood Art:www.myspace.com/bloodartgallery

Joe Ryckebosch will make you feel like a lazy sack of shit and then you'll want to have his art on your wall. Funny how that works. www.etsy.com!shop!joedive

Mr. Joe Leonard. Puddin's trusted side kick.

IIA Man without his dog is a piece of cat shit" Nielzine 2011

. -- -

Contact information for Paul "The Ink Monster' Ribera I

Contact if you dare! Not for the weak. Only for the wicked! Beware! Dead End! \ lr

You have been warned. ., -~- I 1 T" I"'" n of

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Ribera, P.O. Box 11372, Santa Rosa, California, 95406, dre.-CtVVl (-~

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~/ Santa Rosa, California

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That's all folks!!!! .

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