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Death Panel Issue 2

death panel press magazine zine trumbull island jarrod shanahan

Magazines rise and fall on a monthly basis here in New York City. That issue of Mass Appeal with The Clipse on the cover is still in our magazine rack next to the john, along with countless issues of The Source, GIANT, American Helicopter Society, Cookie, VIBE, 02138, Play, and Chief. Now, in the place of each of these periodicals, warped and bloated from years of steam and other forms of éther de toilette, two or three smaller zineforms have sprung forth. Like baby eagles they cry out, hungry for more readers, ignorant to the dangers and financial ruin that await them beyond their nest of bro-ship and bar party hook-ups. But perhaps this generation of publications will redefine what a magazine is, and how it works. This is a review of one of these magazines.

Trumbull hooked me up with a press pass to the release party for Death Panel Magazine’s second issue, which is at least twice as hype as the last issue of Death Panel, and printed on a finer stock of paper than most blogs would dare. It was shortly after returning home from this soiree that I lost my issue of Death Panel. I paid for it, mind you — I believe it cost $2. Well, I had no more money, and I felt embarrassed about my predicament, so with a deadline looming I decided to push on with the review with what was available to me.

I closed my eyes and thought back to the party. There were a series of readings by some of the Death Panel contributors. They were all-right guys and girls. One of them wasn’t all-right, but his reading was the best. Austin Lemieux. Here are some other names emerging from the murk: Andy Spano? Richard Thomas? Niina Pollari? And despite the fact that Death Panel is by and large a printed affair, one of the night’s readers joined us via satellite from a far-flung corner of the globe — not too shabby.

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    FOOTNOTES

  1. Insofar as Summer 2010 skinhead, graffiti, and Puerto Rican biker gang activity (good, old-fashioned fun) is concerned.
  2. Cocolo refers to Spanish-speaking Caribbean people beholden to Afro-Latino culture, especially Salsa music, as opposed to the "rockeros," a group who emerged in the 1970s and 80s in Puerto Rico, favoring rock music and the English language instead.

Dear Jon, Pt. 6

jonathan lee riches v rdap amanda hughes trumbull island

Back with the latest on heroic hacker, wordsmith, and human algorithm, the incarcerated Jonathan Lee Riches ©. He wrote to tell us about the abuses of power, sex, and drugs in the Residential Drug Abuse Program, RDAP, at the Federal Medical Center in Lexington, Kentucky, where he sits in solitary, awaiting his impending transfer to another federal prison to serve the remainder of his 125-month sentence1 for plea bargaining to a charge of wire fraud in 2003. Jonathan, in case you forgot, has filed more lawsuits than anyone else in history, all from behind bars.

Now, it’s really none of our business who’s fucking and/or sucking who at FMC Lexington, but we don’t take alleged abuse in the federal prison system lightly, especially when someone from the Trumbull camp is on the receiving end. Furthermore, we told Jonathan we’d publish anything he sent us. He has spent the last four or so years pushing the boundaries of the dry, prosaic legalese commonly found in lawsuits in order to fully articulate the injustice that has befallen him and his various co-plaintiffs, drawing from pop culture, sports, hip-hop and the news in general. So it comes as no surprise that Jonathan has written a poem to supplement his “PSA” in which he calls out members of the RDAP staff by name in rhyming couplets. If you ask us, it’s just begging for a beat.

Jonathan would like to urge his fans and concerned parties to get in touch about how to help his cause. You can do this by contacting him personally at the address found below, or by emailing us at Trumbullmag@gmail.com.

The poem:

THE RDAP STAFF, I LAUGH AT
They are crap

Dr. Kristen Hungness
Listen
You don’t run this
I run this shit
Dr. Hungness, I sued her
She looks like, Freddy Krueger

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This post has 27 comment(s).

    Footnotes

  1. A sentence he has vehemently challenged since 2003 based on the precedent set in the Booker/Fanfan decisions.

Burn The Club Up Thugs

trumbull island dutty love

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I Dropped Out of High School to Play StarCraft

zac greer starcraft 2 ii trumbull island

2006 Zac Greer playing StarCraft II, illustration by O.B.B.

We started Trumbull in Summer 2004 as a jackass ‘zine to make our friends cackle and educate morton teenagers on the subtle charms of the Cro-Mags’ 1990s recorded output. We may or may not have failed in our simple task, but, somehow, our zines are out of print and remain among our finest accomplishments — yes, even more impressive than my high school crust band, or Owen’s undocumented hitchhiking adventures. Though the confusion our overwrought tomes to forgotten Air Maxes elicited gives us warm feelings still, this piece, about how StarCraft changed our friend Zac Greer’s life, remains a favorite. StarCraft II was released last week.

StarCraft,1 I would say, is the best and most addictive game ever. It was made by Blizzard, the company that had made Warcraft 2 and Diablo. It’s a PC real-time strategy (RTS) game that pioneered the concept of totally different classes, or races, of which there are three. What makes the races special — two different types of aliens, and “humans” — is that they are all differently but perfectly balanced in their skills, something that had never been done or to my knowledge still hasn’t been, even in Blizzard’s [then- –ed.] newest RTS game Warcraft 3.

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    Footnotes

  1. StarCraft was originally released 31 March, 1998.
  2. "The popularity of StarCraft, a military-sci-fi game, has given rise to an elite class of professional gamers who have been elevated to the status of national e-sports icons. The best are said to make up to $300,000 a year in televised contests watched online by tens of thousands of adoring fans."

Win a Trumbull Tee

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Stop by our Facebook page today for your chance to win a Trumbull shirt.1 All you gotta do is post the best picture on our wall. Can it be so simple?

This post has 4 comment(s).

    Footnotes

  1. We cannot guarantee you will look as sharp as this Brooklyn skinhead model if you win the shirt.

Be Violent, Be Loud

violent children youth of today connecticut hardcore trumbull island ray cappo porcell

Leeway – Live soundboard @ JC Staddijk, Nijmegen, The Netherlands 12/07/1991

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Die Antwoord needs to be louder

Firstly, shoutout to Alexis and Sleigh Bells.

After smoking about 20 joints of zol with Vuilgeboost, we settled back and watched Die Antwoord go full flex on the audience at Governor’s Island. About one minute into “Enter the Ninja,” NINJA had to stop the track and get his and Yo-Landi’s vocals turned up, but this did little to hinder their performance. I admired that their costume changes amounted to popping in an out of different pairs of sweatpants, boxers, XL tees, and gold leggings. Learning was in the curriculum as NINJA administered lessons in Afrikaans between songs. Wanna know what I learned during M.I.A.’s set? How not to perform. How not to let your hype woman act. How to look dumb playing with smoky light trails. How not to mix your sound. The best part of M.I.A.’s set was when the rain started hitting her lasers and she played what sounded like a real song from one of her albums. The second best part was when she threw bottles of tequila into the crowd. Third best was that young boy dancing onstage. And then people started running because there was lightning and some of it was pointing at us.

Die Antwoord Live Hard Fest NYC July 24, 2010 Governor’s Island from Trumbull Magazine on Vimeo.

Let me tally this shit up:

Ticket: $68.90
Zef Side shirt: $25
Pulled pork sandwich: $8
Bottomless lemonade: $18

That’s $120.

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Trumbull Vault: A Day at the Rhesus

monkey capuchin jockey greyhound racing trumbull islandIn lieu of new material for the summer, we have traipsed into our archives. Increased interest online in the below-mentioned material is cause for our selection.

NEW YORK (Trumbull Monkey Racing Newswire) — Call it the sport of kings of the jungle. In front of a packed-in house Thursday at the Dog Aqueducts in Queens, 2-to-3 favorite Fueled by Postum delivered on her promise as a dog which could be raced extremely fast by a trained monkey, taking the first Dog Triple Crown win in the history of Thoroughbred Monkey on a Dog Racing (TMDR). She won in easy fashion, glistening to the finish by bit more than two-and-a-thirds of a daschund’s length.

“She raced extremely well for a dog ridden by a monkey,” owner Abe Metro, of the fledgling movie house Metro, Goldwyn and Mayer, remarked from the dog winner’s circle. “This was a race for our president, Herbert Hoover.”

It was also the third win in as many races for Postum, which won the Preakness Monkey Stakes by two lengths and the Kansas Derby by five. Her owner stands to receive a healthy $82.50 sum for successful stewardship resulting in the Dog Triple Crown.

Monkey jockey Cynthia the Monkey, at the helm for all three Triple Crown races, rode Postum hard from the start and gained good distance from the first turn with stern usury of the reins. Postum, ever anxious to please her monkey boss, dug into the bit and began a violent, timed series of dog kicks, pushing dog rival and 3-to-1 shot Hotdogcracy into a dog hole its monkey jockey Stella the Monkey could not dig out of.

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Jonathan Lee Riches v. Lady GaGa, Octomom

jonathan lee riches v lady gaga octomom trumbull island stefani germanotta

Trumbull Island has discovered that one of the hottest jams of 2008-2009, Lady GaGa’s “Poker Face,” has quite an interesting story in its provenance. It seems that our friend Jonathan Lee Riches © had a hand in the penning of this number one hit. In a lawsuit dated March 29, 2010, Jonathan unfurls an account of how GaGa, “star struck” upon recognizing Jonathan at the MGM Grand in July 2002, took action against him after giving her the idea for her second big single:

Stefani Germanotta sat next to me and asked “Excuse me, are those Bugle Boy jeans your [sic] wearing.” …I said “Look lady, can’t you see I got a poker face, I’m trying to concentrate.” She then said “Poker face, I’m going to use that in a song of mine one day.”

Continue reading for the entire text of the suit, as well as the original PDF.
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Lil Wayne father of twins to Brooklyn teen

A Trumbull insider recently washed up in McCarren Park after a short stint at Rikers Island. We couldn’t resist asking him for some Lil Wayne gossip…

lil wayne has twins with rockaway brooklyn teen trumbull rikers island

Did you see Lil Wayne at Rikers?

No, I didn’t see him but my friend Kent who’s in there was housed with him for like two and a half months in March and April, and then my friend Fred had a seizure in the bullpen.1 He woke up at this hospital in Queens and Lil Wayne was in the bed next to him because I guess Lil Wayne faked some medical shit because he got a 16-year-old pregnant in Far Rockaway and she just had his twins and he wanted to be in the hosptial with the twins while they were born so he faked some medical shit to get there. The mother of the girl was trying to say that he needed a whole motorcade escort back to Rikers Island, like, he needed to be surrounded by cops on motorcycles and shit but he’s just chilling in there. He’s like the first rapper to ever go in there and be like “I wanna be housed in general population,” all rappers when they go in there like DMX and Wu-Tang dudes they go into, not protective custody but high profile, which means they have captains with them at all times and shit. You know, they have police escorts. But Lil Wayne was like “Nah, fuck that, I’m gonna chill,” you know what I mean? And I guess he’s got mad money in his account, he’s in a house with like 50 other inmates, he just buys them all food and whatever they want, you know? So everyone’s like, “Whoa, Lil Wayne, he puts it on in here.” They say he just walks around all day drinking coffee and eating cookies, all day. And the female corrections officers are fuckin’ him and shit, like he’s just ballin’, he doesn’t give a fuck.

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    Footnotes

  1. A temporary holding area for prisoners.
  2. Stupid question by nameless third party.

Cat Got Ya Tongue II

On Monday July 12, Trumbull Island is co-sponsoring a hip hop party at St. Jerome’s, 155 Rivington St in New York City. No cover, cheap drinks, and maybe some Trumbull tees. Naughty ragers get spankings. See you there!

lady starlight spanking lady gaga at st. jerome's nyc trumbull island cat got ya tongue

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Whatever happened to Baby James?

Thoughts on LeBron before his 9 PM announcement … please read the Phil G interview a post below. I assure you, it has more staying power than this.

LeBron James, this past day, has been excoriated for “building his brand,” for potentially leaving Cleveland, for possibly staying in Cleveland, for asking for front-line help, for upsetting the time-honored tradition of the sleepy press conference. LeBron, you see, has been implicating himself in a sideshow instead of leaving the confetti-throwing to removed professionals. And worse, he’s not a winner. It’s hard to say if this outsized rage is deserved or merely misplaced.

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This post has 2 comment(s).

    Footnotes

  1. Ohio natives excluded.
  2. One might wonder how much deeper the club would have gone had they swapped for Amar'e and not Antawn Jamison

Greenberry on Michael Jackson’s early Los Angeles home life

I used to hang out at this pool in Boston and the lifeguard there was a guy named Phil. I’d go over with a friend or two every now and then, and even though we weren’t really supposed to be there, Phil liked us so he told us jokes and stories about his life, quizzing us on movie trivia, and lending me VHS tapes. One of my favorite stories is about when he moved to California in 1969 and met the Jackson family. In memory of Michael and the one-year anniversary of his death on June 25, 2009, we talked with Phil, who took us back to the scene of Motown’s California takeover, a major moment in pop music history. But first…

phil g trumbull island

Phil?

La-la-la. You know, I lived with Timothy Leary, too, and the Grateful Dead and Baba Ram Dass who was Richard Alpert, and [Allen] Ginsberg, and Owsley [Stanley] who made that acid, when I was, in ’68 I lived on this 25-mile estate owned by William Mellon Hitchcock in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., just like a middle class kid who would take LSD, this middle class, this millionaire kid brought the proponents of LSD, mainly Timothy Leary who had graduated West Point and then became a psychologist at Harvard, and then he discovered LSD from Switzerland and he coined the phrase, “Turn on, tune in, drop out,” and got a LOT of kids to do just that. LSD, the only drug that you see things.

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    Footnotes

  1. The Jacksons moved to 4641 Hayvenhurst Avenue, Encino, Ca. on May 5, 1971 and have lived there ever since.
  2. Rebbie married at 18 against her father's wishes and moved to Kentucky with her husband, to whom she is still married with three children.
  3. Actually Marlon was the closest in age, older than Michael by about a year and a half.
  4. Only nominated, actually. He finally won for "The Departed" in 2006.
  5. "Centipede" (1984)
  6. A bitch that will find you.

Dear Jon, Pt. 5

Jonathan Lee Riches has been furiously writing us for the last two months. We have a stockpile of his letters and lawsuits that will be posted here soon. For now, check out his latest note.

free jonathan lee riches trumbull island

6-15-10
Trumbull,

This is Jonathan Lee Riches ©, my ramblings to you are under duress. I’m being experimented on with psychological warfare. I’m writing from solitary confinement, it’s called the special housing unit, SHU at the Federal Medical Center in Lexington Kentucky, FMC Lexington.

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Old dog, Motorbike, Jackson Five, Little Mike

young michael jackson shooting hoops with trumbull magazine and his brother

In commemoration of the one-year anniversary of the death of Michael Jackson, Trumbull Island spoke to a friend who got to know the Jackson family quite well at a crucial time in their career, when young bebs were becoming young men, with another destined to remain forever young. Phil, 63, lives in Boston and prefers to speak on the phone, so we called him up for this interview. But he wrote us a short message awhile back which we have excerpted here. Stay tuned for the rest.

hi  pal—  i left new haven on april first 1969- i was 22 years and 6 days old- i drove to la in a 4 on the floor chevy  camaro – when i got to l.a. i couldn’t  find my brother rt away so the first thing i did was  see a  film, the heart is a lonly  hunter starring  allen arkin and sandra lock  from the pen of a 23 year old  named  carson  mccullers—– about a month after  getting  to hollywood  i met in a ben franklin  restrant  a guy  named  richard  mac  scott  who was the manager for the new kids  on the block— when i met him  he  was personell  assistant  to  berry  gordy— he found me the house i rented  for 8 hundred a month  at  1601  queens   road…

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