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    |  |              Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present...           |  |
    |  |                                                              |  |
    |  |               "Mogel *WILL* Marry Winona Ryder"              |  |
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    |  |                                           By: Mogel          |  |
    |  |                                                              |  |
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	Hello, all... I'd like to stop the standard Hoe-Flow and do a wee
lil' talkin' bout someone that I love best.  I shall truly now declare my
unrestless love and respect for...(if you hadn't guessed by the title)...
the most talented actress ever...Winona Ryder.

	This is not an adolecent crush.  This is love.  TRUE LOVE.  And it's
also respect.  REAL RESPECT.  I love and respect.  I love repectantly.  I
respect lovingly.  I do so solomly respect and love the woman of my dreams.
Yes, she came to me in several dreams.  Wrapped in clothes and shrowds of
beauty.  Showing me her smile.  Talking to me.  Making me feel a little less
lonely in this shitty hell whole that we call earth (and there wasn't too
much sex, either). I have learned that Winona is the ONLY woman that I will
truly ever love.  I will, to my dyinging day love her.

	But the BEST part of all of this love is that I *WILL* marry her!
That's right this isn't just some imagination.  It is fact.  She came to me
in my fifth dream with her and told me herself that we were to be wed.  So
this is already all planned out.

	Why did she break up with Johnny Depp?  Well, besides the fact
that he's a prick, she did it (of coarse) because she could only truly be
happy with me.  This Soul Asylum lead singer (note: their music sucks) thing
is just a substitute for me until I move to California (doesn't she know he
smells?)...You see I understand these things...after all, I live way out
across the country.  But in time we will be wed. I know what you are
thinking... you are thinking "Yeah Right Mogel!"  Well, that is not
acceptable.  You see, it doesn't matter what your petty brain believes
because it will be FACT some day.  I AM marrying Winona Ryder.

	I do so love her.  I have a picture of my 23-year-old starlite that
hangs on my ceiling so I can stare at her every night while I fall asleep
and see her face every morning when I wake up.  I dream about her all day.
Everywhere.  All the time.  I have been fired from seven jobs because I was
caught Day Dreaming about her.  I failed out of School because all the
answer I gave on Test were facts about her life.  All my girlfriends have
always looked like her and dumped me because of my obsession with her.  I
have a tatoo of her on my Arm.  I have bought every magazine that she has
ever appeared in 12 times and have plastered those pictures across every
free inch of my room.  I have a Winona Ryder Screen Saver on my Computer.
I have boxer shorts of her.  I have a Coffee Mug with her picture.  I sign
her name on my checks.  I chant her name 300 times before every meal.

	It is only destiny.  We will be married.  I'm sure one day this file
will fall into the hands of the woman I have fallen in love with and adored
for many many years.  She will read this and understand that we were meant
to be.  She will track me down to say thanks for the kind words.  Then we
will set the wedding date.  

	Now thay you can see that we are definatly GOING to get married,
you might be thinking... "Fine Mogel, so what if you are going to DEFIANTLY
going to get married to her.  That doesn't mean it will last!"  Well, you are
wrong again.  You see, I have memorized her in and out.  I know her better
than she knows herself.  We are completly perfect for each other and we will
last forever together.  don't believe me!?  Well, fine...then here's a great
article I scanned on her life from "Life", December 1994, Page 94.  As you
read this you will come to realize how PERFECT we are for each other.  Oh,
and thanks go to Vidi for doing this here scan for me and being a righteious
pal n stuff.


-----------------{{ I will hold my comments till the End }}------------------


	Baltimore, nine A.M.:  Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved 
undershirt, Winona Ryder shuffles into the kitchen of here rented home.
"I just had a terrible dream," she says sleepily.  All the directors she has
ever worked with were in it, and all of them were angry at her.  Stacy
Cochran the writer-director of Boys, the "small weird" film Winona is making,
was in the dream too. "I was ... throwing rice at her," Winona says. Her
mother, Cindy, slight and pretty, in Baltimore to keep her company, has set
out a grapefruit and a slab of toast.  Winona picks at the food, then
collects the books she's reading - a biography of Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee,
and journalist Peggy Orenstein's study of adolescent girls - and leaves for
the set.
	In the scene being shot today, her character, a feckless young woman,
has been knocked unconscious in a fall from a horse; she wakes up in a
boarding-school boy's dorm room.  Winona's worried: Stacy wants her to play
the scene alert and focused, and Winona feels her character would be
cloudier, disoriented.  "Where's my horse?" she says over and over, her
voice just above a whisper, as the cameras roll.  She's playing a
compromise - confused but concentrated.  It's tricky. "I feel like I don't 
know what I'm doing out there," she says after many takes.
	She's miserable, but not really.  As she speaks, she's perched on the
lap of David Pirner, the lead singer for the rock band Soul Asylum and her
boyfriend of the past year and a half.  He is wry and relaxed, smiles
easily, smokes constantly  ("I'm no quitter," he says).  Everyone on the set
likes Dave, but Winona likes him the most.  He is, she says, "the only 
happy-go-lucky, jolly musician I know."  When she isn't working, he stays up
until three a.m. with her, watching old movies; when she is, he visits her 
on location, enduring the tedium with infinite patience. Today is their
reunion after a five-day separation, and they can't keep their hands off
each other.
	
------------------------{{ AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! }}--------------------------

	I really didn't want to interrupt this article, but I just couldn't
stop myself.  BLAAAAHHH!!!  I'm sure anyone with even half a wit about them
will see that this article is complete bullshit.  There are so many errors
I will not begin to touch upon, but all this about her and "Dave" OBVIOUSLY
not true.  They could not have been "all over each other".  This is
obviously Propaganda that Life Magazine is using to destroy anyone's hopes
and dreams.  It's obviously a lie.  Perhaps the writer of this article is
actually a SPY that is on my Board and has discovered the truths that I speak
of on my future with Winona Ryder.  He has read it and realized that I was
really meant to marry her, and therefor wrote this article to damage my 
aspirations and my mission in life.  However, please note that most of the
things relating to her 'boyfreinds' is a fabrication.  

----------------------{{ Now Back to the Article }}-------------------------

	"I'm playing this girl who's so lost, and I've never felt so found
before," she says, and means it.  Things were different in 1993, when she
was in Portugal shooting "the house of spirits".  She found her self at the
bleak bottom of a two-year depression.  "I ignored myself, my 'needs,'" she
says, self-conscious about the cliche.  "I put my career in front of my
life.  I remember so many of my favorite actors saying 'My work is my life.'
And it's not."
	New York City, some weeks earlier: in an ornate stone building on
the edge of Chinatown, a tiny, smiling person in floppy denim overalls
answers the door.  A tempting but unspoken joke: Is your mother or father at
home?  But of course this is Winona, and this is her two bedroom apartment,
handsomely decorated in a kind of low-key luxe: olive-green velvet drapes at
the living room windows, soft mohair sofa and chairs, a gilded coffee table.
There are lots of books around, photography collections, novels, a book of 
Preston Sturges screenplays.  Upstairs in her bedroom are more books, videos,
a photograph of Martin Scorsese, who directed her Oscar-nominated performance
in The Age of Innocence - a performance that represents the first time she
felt proud of her acting.
	Winona settles into the sofa.  At 23, she sits like a kid - shoulders
drawn together, one foot resting on top of the other.  Her skin is so pale
you can see blue veins crossing her jawline.  She's skinny, 100 pounds or
so, but not intentionally; she tried to gain weight for Age of Innocence but
couldn't.
	The conversation is not exactly show-biz babble: the sinister
influence of skinhead rock; the Holocaust Museum; extermination camps.
Winona is soulful and sincere, but also light and funny.  She jokes about
Scorsese, an idol: if he had made Schindler's List, he would have don
Schindler after the war, as a drunk - she screws up her face and closes one
eye - mooching off Jews whose lives he had saved.
	Now the subject is her schedule.  "I have lots of time," she says,
"because I just dropped out of this movie."  This movie is Boys.  She had
been crazy about the screenplay and eager to play a complicated, grown-up
character.  She was not, however crazy about a recent script revision that
added sex scenes.  She will not do this version, she has told the producers.
"There's an obligation to commercialize something when you have a movie star
in it," she says later.  It happened on Reality Bites, the generation X
comedy that she feels got slicked up into a music video vehicle."  If she
hadn't been in it - if the film hadn't had a Name - it might have stayed
small, more real.  "I don't blame any one except myself," she says.
	Winona knows she is a big star, a personality a studio can build a
production around.  She is one of very few such women, and the only one of
her generation.  This Christmas she stars as Jo in Little Women, and while
the cast is an ensemble of fine actors - Susan Sarandon as Marmee, Gabriel
byrne as Professor Bhaer, Eric Stoltz as John Brooke - it is her name that
appears above the title.  "Certainly little women became a reality because
of Winona's participation," says Mark Canton, chairman of Columbia/TriStar.
	Winona can afford to be choosy now, but she has always been choosy.
She turned down an offer to do Sydney Pollack's remake of Sabrina:  Audrey
Hepburn so defined the role that she felt uneasy about re-creating it.  The
story worried her too - the fact that Sabrina is a "prize" shutlled between
brother.  She has made a habit of refusing roles in films she finds sexist,
sill, gratuitously violent.  Most movies "blend," she says.  Hers don't. 
Her films can be quirk or dark - Beetlejuice, Edward Sissorhands, Heathers,
Bram Stoker's Dracula - but few are bland, and none fit a fomula.  She
cannot be seduced, says Denise Di Novi,  who has produced three of her
movies.  "Ninety percent get persuaded by people around them--'You have to
do this part, work with this director.'  But you can have fifty people in a
room telling Winona what to do, and if she dosen't want to do it, forget
it."  This goes for all tasks met in the line of movie-star duty: For a
recent fashion magazine spread, she balked at modeling the clothing.
"Corsets," she says, disgusted, "push-up things. Transparent things."
	Weeks later, near baltimore: Boys is on.  What happened was, Winona
called Stacy.  They patched things up, the script was restored.  "The only
reason it worked out is because of the conversation," Winona says. "I'm
really happy about that."
	She has spent most of the morning lying in a nearby field - her
character has just been thrown from the horse - but now it's time for lunch
under a tent.  Bundled in a bulky green parka against the October breeze,
she sits at a long table with cast and crew.  As usual, she loses interest
in her food and opts for talking.  There's a lot of back-and-forth about
things, but Winona gets the most stories in.  Everyone who knows her,
remarks on what a good storyteller she is, though even her mother convays
that she is inclined to embellish here and there.
	One story: she dreamed that director Richard Attenborough had died
in a plane that crashed against a snowy mountain.  It was so weird she
called Attenborough's office to tell him not to fly that day.  Although he
had already switched a scheduled flight, the plane he had been booked on did
crash...against a snowy mountain.  Winona tells this gravely, like a ghost
story.
	A brief discussion follows, about death and reincarnation.  "I told
my mother I wanterd to kill myself so I could see what it was like after,"
says Winona.  Some one askes, "How old were you?" "About six," she says,
sipping lemonade. 
	If Winona is apt to exaggerate - "I like to enhance," she says, "I
don't ever lie" - she is also given to a kind of artless self-exposure, as
if she hasn't yet learned, or resists knowing, that most adults keep certain
things under wraps.  She talks about an anxiety attack on a plane - "the
stewardesses had to hold me."  A favorite adjective is "terrifying."  This
quality is not calculated, but it is cultivated.  Michal McDowell,  who
co-wrote Beetlejuice and lived for a life time in an apartment above her's
in L.A., says her innocence is "self-conscious" but genuine: "She understands
how she comes off.  She made a choice to be innocent, and that's not to
suggest that there isn't any thing false about it.  She's innocent through
and through."
	She has an almost mystical revernce for children and teenagers, for
their freshness and candor.  On the Little Women set she played mother hen
to the younget women in the cast, and several of her close friends are under
the age of 12.  At the moment, she is smitten with Spencer Vrooman, 12 who
is in the cast of Boys and is lunching with her.  She believes it is time for
Spencer to learn a musical instrument "Choose your weapon," she says.
	"Gee-tar!" says Spencer.
	So after lunch Winona gives him a lesson.  She shows him how to hold
the instrument, how to wrap his fingers around the neck.  She compliments
him lavishly.  "You totaly have more of a knack than most people I know,"
she says.  "You were born to rock."  Spencer beams.  Some days later, she
buys him his own guitar.
	She is acutely sensitive to the young and small, the weak, the
preyed-upon and the unprotected.  When Ian Hamilton wrote a prying biography
of her literary hero the reclusive J.D. Salinger, she wrote a smarmy, short,
bogus biography of Hamilton and sent it to him, "just to show you," she
wrote, "what it feels like."  She herself is in a possession of a Christmas
card signed by Salinger, a troubling totem:  He's a private man.  Shouldn't
she return this item that once belonged to him?
	The sexual abuse of children is a recurring theme in her
conversation - she talks about it.  Last year she reaced with extraordinary
passion to the abdution of a child, Polly Klaas, in Petaluma, Calif., where
she spent part of her own childhood.  She offered a 200,000 dollar reward
for Polly's safe return,  manned phones, went on a search for her,
befriended her sister, Annie.  Vulnerability and fear are threaded through
discussions of Winona's growing-up.  She talks about real-life kidnapping
cases that took place when she was young - a baby snatched, a boy never
found - and says she "would lie in bed and be scared."  Her mother remembers
her, at 12 or 13, asking for bars on her windows because a serial killer was
on the loose and rumored to be in norther California.
	Her family is large and loving and not average.  Her parents, Michael
and Cindy Horowitz, have edited a book of Aldous Huxley's essays about
mind-altering drugs and a collection of women's writings on drug experiences.
(Michael is a bookdealer specializing in the '60s; Cindy is writing a
screenplay about Louisa May Alcott, a longtime fascination.)  Inevitably,
Winona has been labeled:  The Girl Who Grew Up in a Commune; Timothy Leary's
Goddaughter.  Asked about Leary, she begins gamely - "he's a great guy" - but
runs out of steam.  "None of that stuff interests me," she says. (She says
she is "terrified" of drugs.)  A pause.  Well, here's someting to say. 
"Every time you think he's senile, he's not."
	About the commune, where she lived from ages seven to 11, she says,
teasingly,  "Everyone grew there own everything.  If you know what I mean."
Also, less lightly: "For a kid to watch a bad drug trip is terrifying." 
Finally: "I have some great memories and some terrible memories."  She
didn't like the lack of structer or the nudity.  To this day she does not Do
Nude and has said she can't imagine it.
	She loves her parents - by all accounts good, gentle, generous
people - and talks about them a lot.  Her father sends her comics and
newspaper clips,  cooks her pasta when she is home.  Her mother "finds the
good in everything, everyone."  But the daughter is differnt. Says Dave:
"My parents leanded to the conservative side, and hers leaned to the
liberal.  We're both overcompensating."
	Driving home after the day in the meadow: Winona is describing a
director she has met several times.  "He's just uncouth - as Judy Holliday
would say," she concludes, raising her voice so that it is fluty, prim, the
verbal equivalent of an extended pinkie.  How many 23-year-olds use Judy
Holliday as a point of reference?  Among actors William Holden and Barbara
Stanwyck are her abiding heroes, beloved for making difficult characters
sympathetic, but she has other: Greer Garson, Bettecia Neal, Joanne Woodward,
Ginger Rogers, Jessica Tandy, Anne Bancroft and, of course, Audrey hepburn.
"They didn't all have the same tricks up their sleeve," she says of
actresses.  "Each had a different look in her eye."
	"She's seen more movies than I have," says Little Women director
Gillian Armstrong.  When the family lived in the commune, cindy Horowitz ran
an informal film society and took her kids to the screenings.  When they
left the commune, they got a TV set.  Cindy, says Winona, "would sit us down
and talk us through the old films."  Winona found something to love in 
movies - particulary dark films from the '40s, but even Tammy Tell Me True. 
She draped her bedroom window in black so she could watch movies all the
time. "I wanted to live in a theater," she says. "You know, take out the
seats put a bathtub in."
	She had more time to watch movies than other kids did.  "I didn't
have a single friend," she says.  For a year, she didn't even go to school.
On the third day of seventh grade she was roughed up by tough kids - she had
been taken for an effeminated boy - and was put on home study.  Wasn't this
traumatic?  "It was great," she insists: if she hadn't left school, she
wouldn't have started classes at the American Conservatory Theater, wouldn't
have got an agent...The bullies, she says, "gave me my career."
	The story is a bit tidy; maybe it has lost its pain in the retelling.
She tried going back to school, says her mother, but she remained
"different." The other girls conspired to unsettle her; whenever she looked
up, they were staring at her.  "Noni was so miserable and stubborn," Cindy
says. "She went down on her knees and said, 'Mom, I'm not going another
day.'"
	Winona did eventually go back to school, and did make friends - girls
who shared her taste in punk rock and punky clothes.  But by this time she
was, in a way, alredy gone.  She Was Winona Ryder, no longer Horowitz and
alredy making movies.
	She grew up on film sets.  She got her first period while making
Lucas and had her breasts strapped down for square dance.  During the filming
of Mermaids she kept her Walkman clamped to her head, listing to "Sixteen
Blue," the replacements' lovely, sad song about teenage loneliness.  "My
character was such a teenager," she says, and pauses. "I was such a
teenager."
	She met Johnny Depp when she was 17, six months before they made
Edward Scissorhands.  The romance was intense and unstable - "embarrassingly
dramatic."  By 19, during Age of Innocence, things were seriously wrong.  She
coverd up: "It was acting like everything was O.K.- smiling.  I was being
watched all the time."  Deep was only part of her "identity crisis."  Years
of work, of "dealing with who people want you to be," had all taken a toll.
A doctor diagnosed "anticipatory anxiety" and "anticipatory nostalgia,"
whatever that is.  ("I don't think I have that," says Winona.)  He gave her
pills for sleep.  It got so she coulden't fall asleep without them.  "I got
over it.  I have Michelle Pfeiffer to thank for that.  She told me to flush
them down the toilet."  But the depression lasted.  Her parents came to visit
her in Portugal, but she didn't see them much.  The girl who dosen't drink
"tried to be an alcoholic for two weeks."  Alone in her hotel room, she
would make screwdrivers from the minibar, smoke cigarettes, play Tom Waits's
doleful album Nighthawks at the dinner.  One night she fell asleep with a
lit cigarette.  She woke up before any thing caught fire, but that was it for
her dalliance with drink.  Having hit bottom, she started to climb up.  "I
havent't been back," she says, "and I wouldn't ever want to return."
	A final day in baltimore:  Winona has sent Salinger his Christmas
card.  It was the right thing to do.  Now snuggling with Dave, she says
she's giving up her New York apartment.  She wants to move to a smaller
city - Seattle, maybe.  She has a friend there, and it's pretty, and she
thinks it might be a nice place to raise children.  Dave smiles, letting her
talk.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

	AH!  Did you catch that ending?  That bastard doesn't really love
her, he's just USING her...he doesn't care about a future with her at all.
It's ashame people must take advantage of such beauty and innocence that
Winona has.  Listen everyone...you might laugh at me now...but in the
future, you will see.  You will be sorry for laughing then!  They called me
CRAZIE!  But I'm not... I'm right.. they will all be sorry when we are 
married!  WINONA!  I LOVE YOU!  I LOVE YOU!  NONI - Call Mogel-Land today!

|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|=-=-=-=|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
|  Mogel-Land........2157323413  /I'm a PiG\  Isis Unveiled......5129305259 |
|  Hacker Crackdown..2159451907 |H )\@_@/( P| Undercity..........2096833673 |
|  T.E.K.A.T.........9088132738 |o ( (o) ) i| phunkyphatphreashphunkphunk!! |
|  I Forget..........6105448001 |G  <_O_>  G|      the NEXT generation      |
|  /<RaD-/<-/< House.8103480421 |s BuUuRP! s|          of stoopid...        |
|  Symphony'o'Sick...2017283881  \I'm a PiG/                                |
|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|=-=-=-=|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications                        #39 --> 12/12/94
All rights Reserved for Winona on her Wedding Day with Mogel.
