Entire Contents Copyright ©2003, 2004, 2005 All Rights Reserved.
fraulein mr.
sept.  2003

the cabal                            give it up
featured filth purveyors

(the exclusive writeThis interviews)
Dear loyal yet despondent readers,

We are grieved to have to bring you this appalling news today, but it seems that a scandal has rocked the literary world in the last few weeks.  While it is true that two of the stories published by (Gather and Sing by Willie Davis & Sour Milk by Wayne Bowman) and one story written by one of our editors  published in another e-zine (deadDrunkdublin) made the list of notable stories of the year 2004 for the storySouth Million Writer's award short story contest, it appears that none of them, not one single one, none, has made the top ten.  Go see for yourselves:  HERE.  At the urging of thousands of our outraged readers, we sent out our snappy team of investigators to sort out what we believed to be, in the least, a misunderstanding and, in or at, the most, outright fraud and debauchery. What they discovered puts Watergate, the French government, and Mother Teresa's money laundering schemes to shame.  Evidence of bribery, collusion, prostitution, gambling, crack dealing, and worst of all shenanigans.  Shenanigans dear readers, shenanigans.  We know you'd like to know all the parties involved in this disgrace but we're not going to name names because those places haven't yet earned the right to be mentioned in this, the finest literary e-zine in the history of the world.  All we can say is that every single e-zine on that list (except for ours and that other one) was involved.  No punishment is too small for this treachery but we believe in handling matters in a civil and courteous fashion and suggest that the cheaters and colluders get a pass this time.  It is enough for us that we are the best literary e-zine in the universe and that all of the others drink milk through a straw and use words such as 'cod', 'tendency', 'eye', and 'magazine' to veil the fact that they are dumb.  Certainly we are dumb too, but we're not as dumb as they are.  And if those aren't words to live  by then we don't know what they are.  Go read.

she was
tripp reade

"Margot paused before a coffee shop in the torrent of people surging through Cleveland's airport.  Another traveler pulled up beside her, craning his head to inspect the menu as well."

5 poems
ashok niyogi

"He cuts his vodka
With fresh iced grapefruit chunks,
Scribbled over with mummified blood
Crawl back into white walls,"

heaven on earth
michele hoos

"The spa is on the aft end of the Aloha Deck.  This means Janice has to walk about a mile to get there:  her cabin is on the fore end of the Heaven on Earth’s “Inspiration,” which accommodates"

binge thinking
daulton dickey

"I once fancied myself an alchemist of alcoholic beverages. I’d mix three or four miscellaneous drinks and come up with a mind numbing, fiercely intoxicating concoction that’d put even the most seasoned drunks to bed."

Ed Boyd

"The other day I noticed Jonathon Blake in the obituaries. Now days it is fairly usual for us to find some one there. Jon Blake was just a little kid when I was a teenager. I knew better Alicia, Jean and Jimmy."

simone cerioli

"I cannot concentrate cannot concentrate down on the floor, board by board everything dusty and clean, squareness radiating the night. I lie spent and see the revolving spheres beyond the heavy ceiling now that our universe’s grown too big to bear in one’s mind. I was struck by the fear to rearrange the absence of being or the excess "

jay heisler

"The outline of the volcano pierced the sun above them as they surfed waves of discharge. They would stumble and catch each other every once in a while, then keep pressing on toward nowhere in particular. What was once splashing"

get a tan
adam j. silver

"I'm wearing the checkered hearts tie my mother bought me specifically for today.  It's Valentine's Day."

listen with your ear:
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chi chi
j. tyler blue
bryan e.
blem vide













shut the

vol. ii, issue viii
mar. 16, 2005
brought to you by
"the confrontation of aesthetics..."

the muse
and the

blem vide



jonathan safran foer
amy muldoon
roger bonair agard
john blumenthal
brett axel
richard peabody
kenji siratori
blem vide                  more coming...

fish drink like us

The legendary, ineffing, uhm, ineffable home of filth and genius,, has long felt the time has come for the faithless denizens of literachoo to bring tha’ pain to print. In direct terms we mean to collect the most devastating, filthy, poignant, wretched genius you dear readers (and writers) can come up with (some of us have our doubts), and in collaboration with the infamous Pretend Genius Press, publish the greatest anthology of fiction since the bible:  'fish drink like us'.  

If you think you have the skill, the courage, the substanz des genies (?) to have your work appear in this book with like minded and equally gifted persons then submit your very best or worst (we don't do mediocre) to

We are accepting poems, flash fiction, short stories, and otherwise unnamable literary creations that spark fires and reflower the mindless masses.  There is no theme.  Repeat:  there is no theme.  Work previously accepted by and/or work submitted to will also be considered for the Fish Drink Like Us compilation. Acceptance by, however, does not necessarily mean acceptance for the Fish Drink Like Us compilation.  If for any reason you would like to submit to but not submit to the compilation please let us know.

Submissions are open until May 31, 2005. Those who are accepted will be notified by Aug. 31, 2005.

Expect to have your bookstores invaded. No prisoners will be televised.

More details and terms at


PretendGeniusPress was
at a primo center table at the
New York Independent & Small Press Book Fair in New York City, Dec. 4 & 5.

go here to see exclusive footage of the writethis editors at this event.


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Our chief prostitute, the national award winning ad writing editor on vacation this month, once confided to Idi Amin, "I'm tired. If you ever decide to get out of politics there's always a place for you with me in Editing." Reportedly, Mr. Amin winced and gestured toward the horizon. It wasn't long thereafter that the unreported deaths of the underground writers who published finally surfaced. Now beginning their second year of obscurity, these awardless amnesiacs have emerged looking pale and out of time sequence.

broken news