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oo                          October 1991                           oo
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oo  UU  UU  N   N  PPPPPP L     AAAAAA  SSSSS  TTTTTT  II  CCCCCC  oo
oo  UU  UU  NN  N  PP   P L     A    A  SS       TT    II  CC      oo
oo  UU  UU  N N N  PPPPPP L     AAAAAA  SSSSS    TT    II  CC      oo
oo  UUUUUU  N  NN  PP     L     A    A     SS    TT    II  CC      oo
oo  UUUUUU  N   N  PP     LLLLL A    A  SSSSS    TT    II  CCCCCC  oo
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oo              N    N    EEEEEE   W     W   SSSSS                 oo
oo              NN   N    EE       W     W   SS                    oo
oo              N N  N    EEEE     W  W  W   SSSSS                 oo
oo              N  N N    EE       W  W  W      SS                 oo
oo              N   NN    EEEEEE   WWWWWWW   SSSSS                 oo
oo                                                                 oo
oo              ....... the    unplastic    news ........          oo
oo                                                                 oo
oo           america's active global peace press-------->>         oo
oo                      					   oo 
oo			FrEeDoM     iSsUe			   oo
oo								   oo
oo	FREEDOM ISSUE			    freedom issue	   oo
oo		                                                   oo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

______________________________________________________________________________


"A facility for quotation covers the absence of original thought." - D. Sayers


______________________________________________________________________________


	"when I am old I would like to have a wife and to children a
	boy and a girl and a big house and to dogs and freedom"

					Moagi
					8 Years Old
					From Soweto, South Africa

					Sent from Africa
				 	by our friend Linda Jacobson
					<linda@frcs.Alt.ZA>

()()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()


		Freedom is an open door on holiday.


()()()()()()()()()(()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

	"Democracy is cancerous, and bureaus are its cancer.  A bureau
	takes root anywhere in the state, turns malignant like the	
	Narcotic Bureau, and grows and grows, always reproducing more
	of its own kind, until it chokes the host if not controlled
	or excised.  Bureaus cannot live without a host, being true 
	parasitic organisms.  (A cooperative on the other hand CAN live
	without the state.  That is the road to follow.  The building
	up of independent units to meet the needs of people who
	participate in the functioning of the unit.  A bureau operates
	on the opposite principle of inventing needs to justify
	the existence.)  Bureaucracy is wrong as cancer, a turning away
	from the human evolutionary direction of infinite potentials and
	differentiation and independent spontaneous action, to the
	complete parasitism of a virus."

				William S. Burroughs
	
				NAKED LUNCH
				Grove Press, 1959

******************************************************************************


		The Postwar Blues

	Well I have got the idealism hangover blues
	Cause when I try to stop the war I loose.
	I went to the demonstration
	And I gave my big oration,
	But I could've stayed in bed and took a snooze.

	Now they have dropped a lot of bombs on old Baghdad,
	And made a lot of people dead, and sad.
	The laser bombs kept falling
	And the carnage was appalling.
	Now folks 'round here all tell me that they're glad.

		
				rev etc
				<rev@function.mps.ohio-state.edu>


******************************************************************************


	"I don't take many photos.  I wasn't sure why until
	last night when I remembered my box.  There is a
	box, of the sort that most people keep old photos
	in, in a closet in Arizona.  The box is filled with
	bits of useless crap.  Contents include the obligatory
	pieces of string and a broken 45 record, some
	jingle bells on two safety pins, a couple of dog-
	eared play scripts, and other things not quite   
	so identifiable.  Each of the objects in that
	box of crap signifies something or someone that
	had a profound effect on me in one way or another.
	They are scraps of my life.  I don't take many
	photos."

				Jenny Jacobs
				<jennyh@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU>

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@


		Freedom is ten of something big and five
			of something small.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@


"You ain't been in this house ten seconds and already you starting something."

"Takes two, Big Mamma."

"Well, don't let your mouth start nothing that your ass can't stand.
When you gonna get married?  You need to have some babies.  It'll
settle you."

"I don't want to make somebody else.  I want to make myself."


					Toni Morrison

					SULA
					A Plume Book, 1973


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@



		"Free your mind
		 and your ass will follow.
		 The Kingdom of Heaven is within."

				Funkadelic
				from the album "Free Your Mind and..."


+_0(8&*(8&65$32123#$%^&**7^%$#4%65^&&***(((0)(867654$##@!#@$4#233233445454$$$


		"I looked up the word politics in the dictionary
		and it's really a combination of two words --
		poly, which means many, and tic, which means
		blood suckers."

				Jay Leno


+_0(8&*(8&65$32123#$%^&**7^%$#4%65^&&***(((0)(867654$##@!#@$4#233233445454$$$


			Freedom is an odor which slips
			in through your ear.


=============================================================================


	"Ideas in Modern Russia are machine-cut blocks coming
	 in solid colors; the nuance is outlawed, the interval
	 walled up, the curve grossly stepped."

				Vladimir Nabokov

=============================================================================

	"The Demos staff [Demos' RELCOM (RELiable COMmunication)] had
	learned of the coup around 6 AM on the 19th, and immediately
	began sending political information to the Soviet Union and
	the outside world.  By 12:30 PM, Moscow time, I was reading a
	news release from the independent Soviet news agency Interfax.
	Although outlawed by the junta, news from Interfax, the Radio
	Moscow World Service, the Russian Information Agency,
	Northwest Information Agency (Leningrad), and Baltfax was
	disseminated by RELCOM throughout the coup attempt."

		"If these dogs win, for certain they'll throw us
		in prison -- we distributed the proclamation from
		Yeltsin and the Moscow and Leningrad Soviets throughout
		the entire Soviet Union, together with the 
		communiques from Interfax...Greetings from the underground."


				excerpts from an electronic article by:
				Larry Press  <LPRESS@ISI.EDU> entitled:
				A Computer Network for Democracy & Development

=============================================================================


The following are excerpts from correspondence
between Igor Shulz in Kaliningrad &
Todd Tibbetts in Wallingford
during the months of august and september, 1991.


Igor,

Tell me about the coup.  We get filtered info here.

-- tt  


Todd,

If today you could ask any Russian, "What do you think about IT."
9 out of ten will guess that "IT" means the coup attempt.  It was
a great eruption actually.  On the 19th of August, as usual,  I
turned on the radio.  (Radio "Liberty" financed by US Congress)
And then, in silence, my wife and her father and myself heard
ten minutes of news. Oh!  Mama Mia!  The great stupid country.  The
great stupid people!  Once more!  Vengry 1956, Hruchev 1964,
Praha 1968, Afganistan 1978, and...now, once more.  Poor old
foolish Gorbathev.
I said, "Piggs!"
My wife said, "Piggs!"
Her father said, "Fucked piggs!"  He is a pretty old man.
My daughter of 7-months said nothing.
I say, "May you find at least one good thing about the SYSTEM
in which people are not willing to be lucky, rich and happy,
but are willing to stay alive."

-- Igor


Igor,

How did the Idiocy of "The Persian Gulf War" look through your eyes?
Plus, we hear stories of the SU consumers having a tough time
getting goods for survival.  How are you doing?
Stop by Connecticut sometime and I'll get us a pizza.

-- tt


Todd,

About "Persian Gulf War":  It isn't most bloody war.  Besides, it's
too dangerous to permit a barbarian to have free actions.  War is awful,
but endless attempts to persuade made WW2 possible.  You must keep
in mind that the level of humanity in SU have been fallen constantly.
In the morning I saw in shop the battle for a milk packets.  It's
terrible.  People become very wicked.  My family spent 600-700r
for food in one month only.  (50-60% of people have year
income of 2000-5000r)  I can not imagine how they live on this money.
My year income is 12,000r.  I have not a phone, car, motorcycle...
but I have two bicycles.  I have TV set, which I bought 3 years ago
for 685r. (now it costs 4000r)  Only two of my friends have a VCR
(8000-12000r)  A second-hand car costs 20,000-150,000r.  Flat (2-3 rooms)
is cost 100,000.  You may see, that you not soon will have possibility
to treat me by a pizza.

-- Igor


Igor,

So, what does the SU really think of Americans?

-- tt


Todd,

Ten years ago this is what we believed:
Poor blacks are die off due to hungry and illness.  Most peoples are
living under bridges in cardboard box homes.  And same time
kapitalist piggs...and so on.  Brrr!  It's impossible to be living so.

Now:
Each American
	-is slim, slender, sunburned;
	-has car for himself, for wife, for babies and little car
	 for his dog (of course each year cars change)
	-has his own home.  It isn't big - of 10-15 rooms, plus two
	 toilet rooms and two bathrooms (for male and female)
	-are living on credit (with delayed payment)
	-has in his home:2-3 phone, 2-3 TV sets, VCR, computer, audio set
	-has shares of South Africa mines
	-has dinner in McDonald.  He have supper with his woman in
	 restaurant on the Broadway.
	-has rest month on the Havay islands (or, in bad case, on
	 Californy beaches)
	-is feeling disregard of everything from abroad (US is excellent      
	 of all)
	-drinks often, a few, and never get drunk
	-nobody was hearing that American's are reading a book
	-loves American president, American hymn and American flag
	 

-- Igor


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

		"If we let people see that kind of thing, there
		would never again be any war."  A senior Pentagon
		official, quoted in The New Republic, on why U.S.
		military censors refused to release video footage
		of Iraqi soldiers being sliced in half by
		helicopter cannon fire. -- Newsweek

==============================================================================


			Freedom is a salty crunch on tuesday.


==============================================================================


	" 'Yes master, yes master,' she answered softly, dropping her
	eyes.  But as soon as she was out of the room she began to sing:

			'The white cockroach she marry
			 The white cockroach she marry
			 The white cockroach she buy young man
			 The white cockroach she marry.' "

				
					Jean Rhys

					Wide Sargasso Sea
					1966

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


		"You are free and that is why you are lost."

					Franz Kafka

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


		Some Suess trivia from Alison Chaiken <alison@wsrcc.com>:
		
		The idea of "green eggs and ham" comes from the all-green
		breakfast served to freshmen at Dartmouth College,
		where Theodore Suess Geisel was a student.  Green milk,
		green oatmeal, green oj, green eggs, green ham...

|?|\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\|?|


SHORT FICTION
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	TENSE #2
	by
	
	Todd Tibbetts



			        B E G I N N I N G	
				^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

	On the left side of Court Street a painter (a computer artist)
	cut his finger nails with a Ginsu knife, hacking the nails too
	short, painfully short, as self punishment for not taking his    
	art seriously enough.  His name was Anthony, but most of his
	women friends called him The Sperm King.

				  ----+----

	
        On the right side of Court Street, Glaslow Construction pounded
        away, erecting a thirteen story mammoth high-rise. 
        The construction project serves as a backdrop to our story of
        Court Street.  Louie Splatt was foreman of said project, although
        he was about as far from a leader as a taxi driver's
        growl is from Pavoratti.  And, speaking of Pavarotti, he is
        who was playing on Louie's stereo box up at the far unfinished
        skeleton-like corner of the thirteenth floor; he is who was playing 
	when Louie saw her...or, IT, floating there.  Yes, Pavarati was jamming
        when Louie saw that shimmering form in the air.  But that is for the 
        middle of our story and for this, the beginning part of the
 	story, all a reader need know is:
	As the computer painter Anthony "The Sperm King"
        Fleckstein cut at his fingers with the Ginsu, Louie Splatt was
        complaining about his wife again.

                "That bitch packed me chopped liver again!"  He yelled
                this to his friend and coworker, Sal.  Sal strained his ears
                to hear over the Saws-all and welding moan as it
                crunched up through the temporary plywood floors from the
                12th level below.  "Doesn't she know I hate this shit?"

        With that Louie stood, crossed to the open edge of the structure and
        gazed blankly down at Court Street below.  He heard the grinding 
        of the Saws-all eating through a chunky metal strip.  He thought of 
        how hard the metal must be and he thought further of how hard the
        saw must be in order to cut that metal.  He gave the chopped liver     
        sandwich a squeeze.  He thought of his wife and how she complained 
        nightly about their lack of sex.  She did not understand that there 
        were too many T.V. channels and too little time.

        A strange quick grinding noise shot up from the floor below 
        and the saw sounds stopped suddenly.

                "I hate this shit," Louie screamed as he threw the
                chopped liver sandwich overhand at the street below.
                It waved and summersalted, careening toward the
                earth and peeling apart.  Louie stared at the sandwich's
                slow motion plummet and when he sniffed air through 
	        his gaping hairy nostrils he thought he smelled the 
	        thickness of a weird summer storm approaching.

        Louie grabbed a sledge hammer and trudged back to work.  Later in
        the day he would hear the news that Old One-Eyed Hector had sawed
        his pinky off with the Saws-all that morning on the 12th floor.



				M I D D L E
				^^^^^^^^^^^


	The day was Tuesday and Anthony huffed up the 13 flights
        to his studio.  The elevator had been out-of-order due to
        some monday night disturbance involving an escaped zoo leopard
        and an Australian nun suffering a nervous breakdown.  Anthony 
        did not quite get the entire story, he only half listened to the 
        doorman while staring blankly at the set of steps he would 
        have to climb.

	At his studio door he puffed slightly, pulling his keys from
        deep in his pocket.  He pondered while unlocking his door.  
        The morning was shaping up to be a strange one.  It began 
        at Pierre's Breakfast Taco Emporium when Anthony had 
        received $37.50 in change after giving the new cashier a 
        mere two dollar bill.  Then, just before he entered his studio 
        building, he stepped firmly on the remains of a chopped liver 
        sandwich.  At that moment he remembered what his old 
        uncle "Zebra" Donald had once told him:

        	"Kid, if you don't give respect to woman, you will 
                be the chopped liver of the world."

        Two weeks after he said that, "Zebra" Donald joined a Kiwi fruit
        cult and moved to Borneo.  Anthony always took anything 
        "Zebra" Donald said with a whole shaker of salt...but, at times, 
        even maniacs saw the truth, or the outline of truth.

        The knob turned and Anthony was in.  He gawked at the piles 
        of half-finished artwork and he sighed.  

        Then he sighed a second time.

	
				----+----

        Across Court Street, morning coffee freshly gulped, Louie
        set to work alone, listening to Pavoratti.  His two co-workers        
        had called in sick, both having contracted bocholism from a 
        bad strain of canned eggplant.  So Louie was recording 
        measurements by himself.

        Louie later straddled a thin 4x8 plank during his morning        
        cigarette break.  Under a layer of city smell and through
        the cigarette cloud he caught the scent of feminine perfume.  
        Louie turned into the breeze and spied a shimmering
        figure, a wild figure flying in a tease on air above his building.
        This thing was female, her form gliding around the edge of the 
        thirteenth floor, circling and dipping.  Louie sprang to his feet 
        and twisted, arms outstretched, spinning, eyes clasped on the 
        swirling magic body in the sky.  He was drop jawed.  Her breasts
        received his stares through the streaming white diaphanous gown 
        clinging closely at her chest and legs.  Her limo black hair wisps 
        rose, fell and twisted but never tangled.  This She-Thing levitated 
        and, though her face was nearly translucent, it radiated 
        contentment.

                "Wow, look at those tits," Louie sighed.  He watched
                how thin material clung at her nipples.  To him this
                vision seemed like a centerfold without a staple.  
                Strangely, at no point did he wonder who or what 
                she might be.  He only traced the contours of her front 
                with his pupils and drooled slightly.

		
				----+----


        On the left side of the street, the computer artist Anthony was
        pushing his mouse.  On his three-foot screen, colors were
        not shaping up like he knew they could.  He sprang back
	rolling in his chair; turning and standing.  HE SAW HER.

        His face and hands pressed up to the glass.  He saw calm.
        He smelled serenity.  He scanned his view to see if
        anyone else was catching this action.

		"Wow, look at those eyes," Anthony gasped.

        Her eyes, even from across Court Street, shone as slick black
        marbles...as if her pupils had dilated to fill the entire eye, they
        shone blacker than her black black hair.  He felt the thing knew 
        he was watching her, but the vividness of her awareness
        did not seem awkward or out-of-place.  He was involved with 
        attempting to smell her through the glass and posed no
        questions.

        After wisking to a spot thirteen stories above the center of Court
        Street, she seemed to rest...hanging calmly on an air pillow.

        Suddenly she rose in a shot toward the sky, beyond the sky,
        toward something unseen and high.  

        That moment was when the power clicked off.
        The entire city was without electricity for nine hours.


				----+----


        Louie reached at the sky, straining to see the pornographic
        figure in the breeze. 
    
        He passed out in a dead sleep on the plywood floor, a cinder 
        block as a pillow.

	
				----+----


        Anthony saw the shining figure disappear in a cloud.  He
        turned to see that the street lights below had ceased to flash
        and traffic was building into a confused mass.  

        His lights were out.
        His clocks had stopped.  
        But, his computer still chugged with power.  
        The last thought he had before passing out was that he didn't 
        have an emergency generator for his computer so how could...

	
				++++-++++

        Anthony and Louie simultainously experienced their first wet
        dreams in over five years on that mysterious tuesday afternoon
        on Court Street.  And on that afternoon came a fresh rain which
        washed against the buildings with a patter like spiders
        in tennis shoes.



				E N D
				^^^^^

        On Wednesday morning, the sky was clearing, but still dull.

        The previous day Louie had woke from a dream, confused 
        and panting in the new rain.  At home on Tuesday night, 
        he fought with his wife, slapped her and went to sleep as usual.
        In his bed Louie convinced himself that what he "saw" that 
        morning must have been a combination LSD flashback/overtired     
        wishful dream, occuring within the wierd electro-magnetic 
        pre-storm fury.  
        He forced himself into a black, tuneless, dreamless sleep as fast 
        as he could.  Louie was the kind of person who wanted to die 
        soon without having to do it himself.

	
				----+----

	
        Across the street that Wednesday morning, Anthony was working 
        feverishly on a series of portraits.  He had worked through the night
        without stopping or eating or going to the bathroom. Once he'd woke up 
        on the floor in front of the window on Tuesday afternoon with damp     
        pants, he was possessed by this passionate desire to create.  Anthony 
        was positive he had been visited by a kind of muse, a muse whose
        outward appearance was strictly feminine, a muse who left dripping 
        trails of mystical orgasm.

        Late Wednesday afternoon, Anthony began to slow up.  He sat
        panting and dizzy in front of the monitor and jumped when
        someone touched his shoulder lightly.  He spun to see his friend
        Angela standing near him.  He had not heard her enter, he was
        involved, but when he saw her he reached out to hold her.  He
        squeezed her thick torso from a sitting position, his ear against
        her small breasts.  He looked up at her face and saw her
        dimples.  At first she was nervous because he was panting, but
        she smiled when he calmed down and unbuttoned her
        shirt.  They did not speak, they only fell to the floor
        and laid between loving and screwing.  They
        touched and stroked each other alive 
        and then they both fainted
        simultainously 
        in each other's arms.

				----+----

        On the right side of the street, Louie was fuming.  He had called
        his wife during lunch to complain about what she had packed him.
        His wife told him she was leaving to go live with her Aunt
        Grable in Tennesse where she planned to study molecular biology.  
        This had enraged Louie.  He paced and pounded on the thirteenth 
        floor, screaming obscenities and nonsense.  How dare
        that woman seek a life of her own, he thought.  How dare she fly away.  
        
        Then Louie's foot caught on a brick and sent him toppling.
        As he flew silently over the edge of the structure, he
        screamed, "Eat Me You biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii..."  
        
        He landed thirteen floors below, his head splitting in four pieces 
        atop a USA Today paper box.  

        Needless to say, he died.




        What Anthony and Louie saw that tuesday afternoon, what they
        saw shimmering in the cool air, may have been an angel or a muse
        or a flashback or nothing at all.  Or maybe there is some truth
        to the ghost legend of Mrs. Applehammar, who died 13 years before 
        in a bizarre umbrella duel with a fully-dressed happy-faced clown.  
       
        Whatever it was, there lives a little birdie who will testify that on a 
        cloudy wednesday afternoon on Court Street, there trickled a giggle in
        the breeze, a feminine giggle which smelled like rain.  That
        giggle scoughed at the old fallen man and smiled at the young man
        embraced in an after-love lock on the left side of the street.

        I know this because that little birdie told me.


tt 91

______________________________________________________________________________



	"The only man who is really free is the one who can turn
	 down an invitation to dinner without giving any excuse."

					Jules Renard

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	"Now you are free.  The knowledge that my father was not there
	ever, any more, that he was not simply hidden by walls and steel
	grilles; this disembowling childish dolour that left me
	standing in the middle of them all needing to whimper, howl,
	while I could say nothing, tell nobody: suddenly it was
	something else.  Now you are free.

	I was afraid of it: a kind of discovery that makes one go     
	deadcold and wary.

	What does one do with such knowledge?"

					Nadine Gordimer

					Burger's Daughter
					Penguin Books, 1979

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

			Freedom is a joint rolled in  
				toilet paper.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	"I don't give a shit what happens.  I want you to stonewall it,
	let them plead the Fifth Amendment, coverup or anything else, if
	it'll save the plan."

					Richard Nixon
					Oval Office Tapes

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????


		T O P    T E N    R O C K    A L B U M S


				OF
				ALL
				TIME


compiled by

Thalonious Platypus
(The Unplastic News on-the-spot reporter)

	"This list pays homage to those who broke free of societal
	 expectations, to those who found freedom in their own
	 individual form of expression, to those who realized a dream
	 of appearing on MTV (the ultimate freedom.)"

					Thalonious Platypus
					Tangier, 1991


format:

Band Name
"Album Name"
(Label)


10.	Fistfull of Footcorns
	"Calling Dr. Scholl"
	(Reebock Records)

9.	Granola Anachronism
	"i hope the sixties never end"
	(Full Purple Helmet Records)

8.	Dreary Pelican
	"Flaubert's Moustache"
	(Pepsi Inc.)

7.	Duck Tails -N- Arch Supports
	"Dr. Cactus, roam in and borrow my tojam eggnog"
	(Platypi Disk)

6.	Miriam and the Pop-Top Bastards 
	"The Public is on Acid"
	(Leary Records)

5.	Naked With Felix
	"My Friend's Name is Emery, But We Call Him Jim"
	(Quale Ltd.)

4.	The Littlest Buddha  
	"The Goths, The Visigoths and More" (best of)
	(Liposuction International)

3.	Shakespearean Eskimo
	"Bite My Daddy's Laundry"
	(Taming of My Shoe Inc.)

2.	The Insertion Ladybug Quartet Live with Petchuli Guru
	"Living Happy Buttcakes at Weird Monster High School"
	(Tie-Dye Inc.)

1.	Anal Flapjack
	"nuclear hemorrhoid" (soundtrack)
	(Viscous Vinyl)



Thaloneous would like to thank the following sources:

Rolling Stone Magazine
MTV
Madonna Inc.
Spin Magazine
Bop Magazine
People Magazine
Coca-Cola Co.



==============================================================================

		Freedom is a ten mile fence next to
					a two foot lake.

============================================================================== 


	"When people are free to do as they please, they usually
	imitate each other."

					Eric Hoffer


OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO     S T A Y    T U N E D.....                                      OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO             Next Months Issue:                                     OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO                     --->  the unplastic news field trip II         OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO                     --->  Continuing Story #2                      OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO                     --->  Quotes                                   OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO                     --->  Letters from the Net                     OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
OOO                                                                    OOO
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOO                             OOO                                    OOO
OOO     the unplastic news      OOO             P A S S                OOO
OOO                             OOO                                    OOO
OOO     tibbetts@hsi.hsi.com    OOO             T H I S                OOO
OOO     Connecticut, U.S.A.     OOO                                    OOO
OOO                             OOO               O N                  OOO
OOO                             OOO                                    OOO
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	"Oh, God!  Send an A-bomb on our heads!"





