You hold in your hands an almost unprecedented work of intellectual desperation, an optimistically anachronistic sheathe of bound finitudes: The New New England Journal of Total American Bullshit.
This Journal has a finite destiny: to end the conversation on America. By the publication of our final issue, that purpose will be fulfilled; there will no longer be debate, politics, or ideological polarities. The Americas will fall into a rhetorical rendition of John Cage’s inimitable 4’ 33”: a pure, intentional silence.
This wish is absurdly naive, as you have undoubtedly concluded, superlative reader. It’s inconceivable that paper copy might comprise material to resonate the continent in its cerebral entirety. Rest assured, discerning reader, we’re not unaware of our position. Rather, we have shouldered this Sisyphean mantle with two truths in mind: firstly that “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take,” and secondly that when “[shooting] for the moon[,] [e]ven if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”
In our case, N. V. Peale’s stars are the not-to-be-scoffed-at winnowing of truly contentious and revolutionary subjects from the chafe of tired rhetoric; that topic which remains unaddressed by the Journal shall glitter therefore ever brighter as a vein of enigma.
In this, our inaugural issue, we thresh out the flibbertigibbet substrate of contemporary and succeeding humanity: the Internet. Granted to us by our forbearers a half-century before this publication, the invisible protocol known colloquially as the web has been both meticulously maintained by massive, inertial institutions and haphazardly augmented by cavalier commercial enterprises, all the while trapping, spilling, and laying bare vast pools of a seductive new substance: digital media.
“Information wants to be free,” Stewart Brand told the Woz — in the same breath with which he emitted the notion that “information wants to be expensive.”
Which is it, illustrious reader? In this issue, we elucidate the principles of America’s pursuit of shared information; nobly, and ignobly.
If we have left an anthropological stone unturned vis-à-vis this pursuit, do not hesitate to write and harangue me, personally.
Gavin Nathaniel Morgan, Editor
Twee Tub Girl
Twee Lemon Party
Twee Pain Olympics
Twee Mr. Hands
Twee Two Girls, One Cup
Pay a camgirl to answer questions.
“How Facebook broadcasts your comments to everyone you know now. It used to be someone posts something dumb and then you could be like, “Hmmm, I don’t mind if I come across as a confrontational douchebag to our three mutual friends.” But now if you want to call out a dumb opinion article someone shared, everyone you’ve ever met in your life will just be like, “Wow, didn’t know Sean felt so strongly about how the controversial spider-woman comic book cover is a non-issue.” It mutes any expression/discussion of unconventional opinion unless you want to alienate yourself from a portion of your friends. All that being said, I also think the fact that FB has become just an opinion feed rather than a social network bullshit in general.
Sup, fb fam.” — Sean Oxford
Alton finds this uninteresting
“If it’s on the internet, it should be (is) free.”
Organized Trolling & Harassment
Gamergate (organized and pervasive harassment of women across a large network of volunteers (death threats, rape threats, swatting, doxxing), for example.)
Founder of Fiverr
Cuts of Meat
Cuts of Vegetables
Women Laughing Alone with Salad
At least one issue dedicated to the entire rest of the cosmos
twee dream jangle pop