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In This Issue

• Idiotarod: Mushing Fun in NYC
• Desensitization: It Does a Body Good
• Shit Blowing Up is So Patriotic
• Letters to the Feditrix: Hot Pre-Teen Sex!
• Point: There's No State Like a Prostrate, Girls
• CounterPoint: Assloads of Bad Stuff
• I Could be the Spectator's Sex Columnist
• Hardcore CosmoGirls Have Some Things to Learn
• Point: Shocking Apathy for Homeless
• CounterPoint: Solution for Homeless is Lock and Load
• Burbery Scarves, Labia Elephantitis Linked
• Elimidate Plays Cupid, Stupid
• Anti-Life Comics: The Great Cookie War
• Wacky Fun Whitey
• Cowboy Bush
• Uncle PennyBags Gets His Due

I hate bums. Apparently, these dirty folk I keep encountering on the street aren't just musicians without girlfriends. Like musicians, they're legimately homeless, mostly drug addicts, a little bit crazy, and a little bit cool. So you can see how I got a little confused. If they were musicians, it would all be cool. I mean, who doesn't want to date a musician, let alone a homeless one? You can drop the fuckers off pretty much wherever the hell you want when the date's over. But unfortunately, as I said, these dirty folk I've been meeting aren't out-of-work jazz drummers. They're just bums.

Now, you might ask me, "Matt! Holden! Who are you to criticize the plight of these poor afflicted souls? You know most of them are crazy and would be in mental institutions, had Reagan not cut the budget in the 1980s, thereby creating today's modern homeless epidemic!! And you know, assault against the homeless has been rising to the point where we can legitimately consider it a widespread hate-crime! You're just fueling the flames of hatred!"

This is all true.

Let's lay it on the line: Matt Holden is not a big fan of people with homes on the best of days, let alone people without them. Aside from volunteer firefighters (those modern "heroes" whose distant affiliation with actual WTC heroes has endowed them with an undue sense of self-congratulation and media sanctification) people with homes rarely ask me for money. And, for the record, the score for folk who have actively tried to rob Matt Holden at fake gunpoint stands: Homeless - 1, Homeful - 0.

That's right, the homeless are generally filthy criminals with misdeeds that extend far beyond sticking their fake-prophet Li'l Generals inside their kidnapped preteen harpists from Colorado, smoking crack, or bathing in New York Public Library restrooms. No, homeless crime has now crossed the line into affecting Matt Holden directly.

And despite what you learned in Kindergarten, protective individualistic materialism is what America is all about. Matt Holden's forefathers came to this country searching for a land where nobody would mess with their shit. (It's in the Federalist Papers, folks). Of course, they were thinking of monarchs and aristocratic landowners; they never saw the threat coming from below. But still, that was the dream of America: Settle your plot, get some fat cash, and hoard it. And equality. For Matt Holden.

Thus, it stands to reason that we have to stop ignoring that bum with the cup on the train or the derelict trying to sell you a copy of The Onion so he can buy a bottle of peach Schnapps, and not because such disregard would be indicative of increasing American social apathy and conservative tilting national mood. No, you got to lock ‘n' load, friend, because when you allow the homeless to roam the streets, they end up annoying, distracting, and assaulting me, Matt Holden.

That's why I beat that homeless guy nearly to death last year with a roll of quarters. For Matt Holden. And America.