Thanksgiving Message
I was cleaning out some old papers today, and I came across this copy of the original, first issue of the Uncle Torture fanzine. Actually, the very first incarnation of this concept was an audio cassette version which lampooned movie trailers and radio ads which bracketed my fantasy kiddie clown show hosted by possible child-molester and birthday party clown Uncle Torture and included guests like Charles Manson and Frank Booth!
This evolved into a Xeroxed, cut-and-paste fanzine. It was a fun project that lasted a mere three issues each one more provocative than the last. It was your typically smartass, scatalogically informed 'zine which ragged out Chattanooga institutions, newscasters, watering holes, punk rock bands, other magazines, really anything and everything my active imagination could attack at 3:00 in the morning. Uncle Torture had a profoundly polarizing affect on people: they either found it funny or they didn't. For me, seeing a copy floating in the toilet at The London Connection after a Twiggy show was a high compliment. It was supposed to elicit that kind of response.
As you can see, not a lot has changed. Obviously, I am not quite as acerbic as I once was, but, hopefully, the spirit remains, right? We all want to remember our, dare I say it, principles? Growing older is one thing, but giving up and becoming complacent is quite another. Henry Rollins said "If you're my age, no one's trying to sell you anything except life insurance, hardcore pharmaceutical drugs, the hole in the ground, and The Best of Sting, and when someone comes up to you and hands you The Best of Sting, you realize that basically, somehow you are dead."
Maybe, then, that's the trick. Avoid anyone who suggests that you should grow-up, and, perhaps more importantly, don't hand yourself The Best of Sting. Happy Holidays!
This evolved into a Xeroxed, cut-and-paste fanzine. It was a fun project that lasted a mere three issues each one more provocative than the last. It was your typically smartass, scatalogically informed 'zine which ragged out Chattanooga institutions, newscasters, watering holes, punk rock bands, other magazines, really anything and everything my active imagination could attack at 3:00 in the morning. Uncle Torture had a profoundly polarizing affect on people: they either found it funny or they didn't. For me, seeing a copy floating in the toilet at The London Connection after a Twiggy show was a high compliment. It was supposed to elicit that kind of response.
As you can see, not a lot has changed. Obviously, I am not quite as acerbic as I once was, but, hopefully, the spirit remains, right? We all want to remember our, dare I say it, principles? Growing older is one thing, but giving up and becoming complacent is quite another. Henry Rollins said "If you're my age, no one's trying to sell you anything except life insurance, hardcore pharmaceutical drugs, the hole in the ground, and The Best of Sting, and when someone comes up to you and hands you The Best of Sting, you realize that basically, somehow you are dead."
Maybe, then, that's the trick. Avoid anyone who suggests that you should grow-up, and, perhaps more importantly, don't hand yourself The Best of Sting. Happy Holidays!
posted by Brian King at Thursday, November 25, 2004
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