ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE: extinction level event; as good a time as any.

When was the last time you looked through a telescope?

Maybe, you have never in your life seen the heavenly bodies magnified.

YOU SHOULD PROBABLY DO THAT SHIT. LIKE, SOON.

under 200x's magnification, you can see the Moon's craters on the Terminator line. That's the line between the shadow and the lit area of the surface of the moon.

There are impact craters on the moon, that even at the quarter size it is of Earth, is God Damn chilling.

Our laughably tiny existence on Earth, referring to not only our nervous twitch in the blink of the eye of generations that is our life, but the (super-)time-lent-based-on-evidence-of-intellectualism-snow-balling-into-intergalactic-expansion presence on this globe, is like flushing the end of the toilet paper roll down and wondering if the roll is going to ware out before the Eco-conscious 6-liter tank drains.

Have you ever looked out the window of an aeroplane at night and seen a comet (or if you lucky, a meteorite) traveling parallel with the dark horizon?

2012?

Forget the translation loosing some finer details, that event is a daily threat to the whole populous of the planet, and if we're really in the V.I.P. room of the Las Vegas of the Cosmo's, the whole beautiful orb.
Have you ever heard of the Asteroid Belt?

THAT WAS A PLANET.

Several years ago, there was only 9 planets. Now, there's more than eleven. Pluto's is declassified, and several planets inside the ring of asteroid belt have been identified.

HOW THE HELL ON EARTH IS THIS POSSIBLE?

A guy with a McGuyver'd, jury-rigged, Bill-Nye-O-Scope of the early centuries found that "satellite" Pluto. How, in the spare time of the star-gazers and Philosophers and countless wandering people in the Kalihari can you miss that huge black spot where once bright stars were?
I'll tell you...
It's the frigging Men In Black.
With their intimadating "Mr. Blonde" suit jackets, collective-consciousness powered suicide-apon-apprehension go-get-'em.
(yeah right.)

Read Larry Niven and some other clever son of a Piven dingo's book,
"the Mote in God's eye."

Here are some pictures taken from an older digital camera positioned over a telescope aimed at the Moon. Whilst slightly swaying to the gentle breeze of inebriation, I considered the possibility of an extinction level event.

One, that by far and wide,
FAR PAST SURPASSING BUSTA RHYMES WICKED CONCEPT ALBUM.

As a Canadian; a fellow human that revels in the Drake Equation, and a rowdy hyper-active, and a impulse-driven thrill-seeker, and the kinda guy that likes to get right stuffed at a camp-site BBQ and has to be convinced that a swim in the 5 AM frozen dawn of Easter long weekend in the Muskoka's Moon River by his own drunken logic after secretly sneaking onto someone else's campsite and preparing a one-man feast out of the contents of the temporarily visiting campers cooler VIA a whisper-absent beaver-stroke canoe beaching, the type of person known for telling people twice his age to shut the God Damn Fuck up when someone three times both their ages is talking, and the last guy that you'd expect (based on vocabulary, personal presentation, respect and manor, mannerism and reaction,) to instantaneously and blindly give the benefit of the doubt to any 1 of the 6,000,000,000 other erect or crawling humanoids on this platform or any other...

-Recognize your fellow human.
-Earth is small, fragile, and easily understood.
-WE ARE ALL UNDER SERIOUS DANGER OF BEING ELIMINATED FROM EXISTANCE FROM POWERS BEYOND OUR CONTROL, UNDERSTANDING AND INFLUENCE.
-If the 4 cylinder Toyota Echo has over 2000 moving parts and can do a buck 55, imagine if it had 6,000,000,000 parts, annnd didn't need gas. (global super-structure projects.)
-Personal outerspace vehicles are simple to design. (the owner of Amazon.com is launching a model in 2012.)
-the populus of Earth is capable is creating a global environment that produces enough to over feed our planet and build a surplus great enough to supply and nurish other neighbouring planets (Mars and XENA, a FUCKIN HUGE planet) with the crops to sustain new colonies and advanced areas of research and exploration, and intergalactic travel (outside our solar system.) -TRY TO BRING BACK RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. (911 is cold, let's get seriously invlovled with our power in numbers, "Take the power back!")

ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE, THE PLATFORM FOR RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS AND FURIOUS UNSTOPPABLE FORCES OF JUSTIFIABLE RETRIBUTION, IS THE PLACE TO GO IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE ABOVE, (WITHOUT HAVING TO DISCUSS IT IN GREAT POINTLESS DETAIL WITH US, UNLESS YOU'RE DISCOVERING SOMETHING RADICALLY NEW AND CAN'T STOP YOURSELF FROM PUBLICIZING NEW, FREE AND SUPERIOR TECHNOLOGY AND HARDWARE, AFTER OF COURSE, CRITICAL AND IN-DEPTH SCRUTINY OF SAID "INFORMATION") AND HAVE DECIDED TO JUST MAKE THIS CONTENENT AND THE OTHERS A MUCH MORE "DOPE AS HELL" PLACE TO KIGGIDITY KICK IT ON. ANNNND, IF YOU CAN'T JUST CHILL OUT AND DRINK WITHOUT FIGHTING, MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP THAT POWER-CHUGGING, AND GET YOURSELF AN ABACUS. #0 EXITUS SIFR MAKZAM

Issue Zero MagazIne: 100 Entrees

Well, look at us go.
100 posts,
That's fuckin wicked for a bunch of free range types.
Fluff?
Anywhere?
Not on our watch. Oh no, Only the finest in shaded humour, violence, personal endangerment, insightful commentary, delusional exploits, gate-crashing, hammer-throwing wooden pallet competitions and full on, 5 Alarm Grimey, Renka Inkome ClickN attack campaigns.
I'm proud as all Hell on Earth could be. And to the rest of the contributing members, all of you know who you are, cuz if you gotta ask, TRY HARDER.

Bar tenders, venue owners, security, movie makers, pile drivers, graphic designers, grafittists, HUSTLERS. Videographers, musicians, writers, professional drivers that don't ask questions, spot givers, favour takers, sound guys, nut-case roadies, tattooists, after-hour garrets, dial a bottle, OCAD (bitter sweet), George Brown Collage, Gorilla Monsoon, T-shirt makers, vandals, poets, basements with no windows, blue skys and hurricane alerts, concrete, Tim Hortins you fuckin pusher, James Ready and the Old Mill Ice, stolen internet, parasitical promotional campaigns, parole violators, relentless advocacy of the dark Lord, paranoia, HEAVY METAL AND GANGSTER RAP, recon, hot tips, chemistry, people on the inside, experiments with alcohol and caffeine, and one big hell yeah to the crime Voltron.
We love it. All Of it.

And this is just getting started.

WE ARE OFFICIALLY INERTIA-FREE.
(Not you, NP, we mean antigravity-wise)

ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE: ZOMBIE STRIPPERS, IT DON'T GET BETTER THAN THAT.

Some people are frightened, or disgusted by the idea(l) that the recently deceased, could not only get up, and not only walk around, but slowly, or my personal favorite, running and vomiting blood and screaming towards you with the intent to eat you.
I say, what the fuck is wrong with these people?
Where the hell do these primates keep their damn sense of humor?
Who the hell knows.
Interestingly enough, though, these people are the ones to get bitten right away, and transform into not only the solution to the too many assholes problem, but leaves the door open to (re)kill them at your leisure, or wait for when your own ass is on the line.

Right.

This a review of a movie, not my literal gallivanting through the tulips and flesh-eating Utopian Armageddon.

ZOMBIE STRIPPERS.

Only 20 minutes in, and I'm laughing, real hard.
Not since the Re-Penetrator have I chuckled to myself, and thought, God Bless Hollywood.

After the first stripper in the club,(run by the ultra foul mouthed guy that plays Freddy Crugger,) is sacked right off the stage by a lone zombie flying tackle, AND has her throat ripped out. She comes back to life, goes into the dressing room and tells the coven of Pros that shes never felt so alive.
She goes back on stage, and gives a pretty good performance considering the gushing neck wound, at the end of which, udder silence in the bar erupts into cheers and money throwing of approval.

Some people would find this tasteless.
I personally find it on a free movie site on the web and haven't looked back yet.

Every guy will admit, a good show versus a bad show at the rippers is like the difference between a 7 dollar beer for no good reason, and a 7 dollar beer to have the shit half scared out of you.
There have been lots of less than note-worthy trips to the titty bar. Only twice can I say for sure that the show was fuckin killer. And for my Wife-to-be, let me just clarify, and for the others, I'm not even talking to you Fuck Offs.

It ain't about tits and ass and gash.

Oh no. It's much more.

It's a bunch of dangerous people, guys annnd girls.
It's BLINDING heavy metal.
It's smokey, dark, caves of bars, with bathrooms full of druggies, and a bike show in the parking lot.
It's your buddy getting told to "fuck off then" when he doesn't buy a shot from the half-naked shooter girl.
And its a chick in front getting busy proper.

Now, THAT'S entertainment.

The people there for the girls ALONE, aren't gettin it at home, AND the bar must suck.


I really think you should see this movie.
Some of the above mentioned perks of a strip club are not in this movie, but where they lack in reality, they make up with zombies eating and killing and eating.

Good times.

ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE LIKES CRAZY.
OH, FUCK YEAH, WE SURE DO.

ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE: The Little Voice In My Head.

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ISSUE ZERO: ChemicalRobotiks: I'm Not Trying To Die, I Promise

Thinking back on this weekend it's hard to believe I am even able to write this. You know when you think back on something you did, and all that keeps popping into your head is "why did I think this was a good idea" I am sure everyone has been there at least once in their life. This past weekend was no exception.

Friday Night:
Some friends and I find our selves on the rooftop of another friends house. As usual we are drinking so right there there should have been a red flag in my head like "hey asshole, its dark, you're drunk, and running around on a roof with untied shoes, do you really think this is such a great idea" Of course, that flag was never raised but the bar for stupidity sure was as we began jumping from roof to roof, drunk, at night. Not the brightest thing in the world but no one was hurt

Saturday:
I woke up at the crack of noon, feeling shitty, as I often do on Saturdays. I had plans that evening so it totally pissed me off to find that I had a head cold and felt sick as fuck. Rather than sitting this one out and taking a day off to recover I instead go to the convenience store, buy a bunch of cold pills(Dayquil Nyquil double pack)and start popping. As I wait for the meds to kick in a begin my trek to the house. half way through I am dizzy as fuck but there is no stopping at this point. I get to the house, try to be social, and chill out with some malt liquor. I take a few more of the cold pills because the other ones seemed to do nothing and 4-5 Zantac for my now over powering heartburn. An hour or two passes and I am now all over the place, but decide to try and sit still so no one notices how fucked I am. I remembered that Ursa Mega gave me a bunch of caffeine pills a few days before so I figure eating a bunch of those should straighten me out...nope. So in the end I must have taken 8 dayquil, 2 nyquil, 4-5 zantac, 4 caffeine pills, and all washed down with 80 oz of malt liquor, yum. Even typing this now I cant seem to understand how I thought this would fix my cold or how it could seem like a good idea. Fuck it

Effects of the pill and booze cocktail:
I couldnt think straight at all. I also couldnt form proper sentence and was sluring badly. I had very bad shakes through out my body and tunnel vison. I watched a woman talk and everything around her faded to black. There was no more depth and her hair was golden. Her voice sounded like buzzing noises and I had trouble making out what she was saying. she was outlines in light even though the room was dark. I had trouble with everything but started talking for some reason. I dont know what I was talking about but I could tell it was making her nervous. I stopped talking, left the room and laid on the couch until the sun came up, then I went home.

Was the weekend fun, yep. Were these all good decisions, not by a long shot. Next time I guess I'll think more

ISSUE ZERO: Ursa Mega Vs. Sarah Diamond

ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE: URSA MEGA GOES TO BOX WAR!!!

There I was. It was about 6 in the morning of September 7th. In the Issue Zero Lair, drunk, and spray painting battle armor while Chemical Robotiks stood downwind and inhaled deeply. Affirmative Action Jackson and I had yet to paint our suits, and were running a bit late considering we were dur-runk as Hell from the liquor we "liberated" from the clutches of some fuckin art student dick-noses. Annnd from the 26 of Jin. And the other shit we drank. And we were gonna get no more than 6 hours of sleep.
That's What you get when you start partying at 11 at night. Robotiks got 4 hours, maybe. We got hammered, and passed out in that piece like a K-hole-ing 14 year old in a warehouse.
We showed up in the park while people arrived.
We walked from South Junction to Trinity Bellwoods in the rain. Hung the fuck over. Carrying
battle gear. What the hell am I doing didn't once float through my head.
I was too busy thinking about tearing ass through a crowd of Alien invaders, also in cardboard uniforms.
When we got there, it was pissing rain and trying to piss me off, but even a sleeping God knows you gotta have more than that to drag Us down. We got down to it. June Morrow of NOW Magazine and her camera-man showed up as promised and interviewed the lot of us. Plus Teddy Wilson, and his trusted camera man (a God damned tank in the field, straight up,) from the SPACE Channel shot great footage and also partook in the battle.

Those kick ass motherfuckers are putting our little exploit on the television and in the web.

That's right.
ISSUE ZERO AND IT'S AFFILIATES ARE GOING TO BE ON THE SPACE CHANNEL'S 'CIRCUIT' AT 7:30 THIS FRIDAY. YOU WILL BE THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINED.

WHILE YOU'RE SURFING THE NET, YOU CAN SEE THE SHIT-FIGHT ERUPTING ON NOW MAGAZINES NOW-TUBE AT THEIR SITE THIS THURSDAY.

I'll give you a little taste of what happened.

My buddy Chris came through with two Hieniken tallboys and got me a fat buzz.
SCDigital came with Carl, making us the three Voo Doo Priests, and filmed it all.

We got suited up, and kicked the Hell out of each other.
Or into.
One of the two.

What?
You want me to give away all the fun net surfing looking for our escapades?
I don't think so.

But, here are some pictures to gawk at.


ISSUE ZERO MAGAZINE IS BECOMING MORE AND MORE LOOSE.
THE ROPE LEASH IS FEATHERING, AND THE MUZZLE IS WEAKENING.
AND THE SECOND BATTLE IS COMING TOO SOON.
BUT NOT FUCKIN SOON ENOUGH FOR THE LIKES OF US.

OCTOBER 19, 2008.
SOMEWHERE IN THE DOWNTOWN CORE.
THERE, WITH NO WARNING, WE WILL STRIKE.
IT WILL BE FASTER, LOUDER, AND CRAZIER.
AND PROBABLY DRUNKER THAN EVER BEFORE.

BE THERE.
OR MISS IT LIKE YOU DID LAST TIME.
AND GET CALLED A BITCH, LIKE THE PUNK THAT BUSTED HIS FINGER REAL GOOD (LIKE, REEEAL GOOD) LAST TIME, AFTER ACTING LIKE A HARD ASS, WHINING LIKE A IDIOT THAT GETS HIS NUTS CUT OFF FROM PUTTING A RAZOR BLADE IN HIS UNDIES AND ROLLING DOWN A HILL, AND RUNNING LIKE A FUCK IT I'M DONE TALKING ABOUT THAT BRITTLE LITTLE DIDDLER.

OCTOBER 19.
BRING KNEE PADS.