Dear reader,
That first issue really put Scumsquat on the map, and I sold out the entire 300 copies in a matter of months. I also garnered the prestigious One to Watch in ’99 award from the editors of You Ain’t Zine Nothing Yet. Of course, this was back in the glory days of zines, not like these lame-ass losers doing it now, back when getting a One to Watch was quite an honor, I assure you.
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Jealous, petty jerk that she is, Janine was not amused, and she proceeded to write me a series of angry letters and left threatening messages on my answering machine (disproving her claim that she was the “innocent victim” in all this), all of which appeared in Scumsquat #2 (which owing to the popularity of issue #1 was printed entirely on newsprint, with a color cover, 600 copies). This led to some ugly and almost violent confrontations between me and Janine at various coffeehouses and clubs in Denver, after which Janine, trying to take the high ground, got a restraining order against me.
Well, she tried to slam the door but I got my foot inside just enough and pushed my way in. I had no way of knowing, of course, that Janine’s stupid bitch of a sister was staying with her for the weekend and was in the kitchen calling the cops. Janine began hitting me and trying to claw my eyes, and I made a few punches in her direction, which were ENTIRELY IN SELF-DEFENSE, but Barry, dumbshit that he is, only taped the part of me punching Janine in the face and not what she did immediately before that to deserve it. When the cops came, instead of running at the first sign of noise LIKE I TOLD HIM TO, Barry froze like a fucking deer in the headlights and that’s how they found him, still crouched in the bushes, with the camera in his hand. Dumbass. My supposed friend became the prosecution’s best witness, and his videotape, which I had planned on putting up on the new Scumsquat Web site when it was finished, was taken as evidence and pretty much sealed my fate.
Finally, to all you assholes who have criticized Scumsquat and written me stupid letters claiming that I brought my problems on myself: FUCK YOU. I’m not crying, I’m not complaining, you’ve all wanted me to fail because you yourselves just SUCK so much that you can’t take it.
Editor, Publisher, Writer, Designer, Creator
