RW #19


#19 2003

Stuffing the envelope since 1993

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Idiotorial
This is probably the best Idiotorial ever, seriously

Letters
No letters this issue, but we do have Contest Results and a few poems to make it up to you

M.O.T.O.
Master of the Obvious and purveyors of pop gems for night on twenty years

The Rat Patrol
"What do we need to take control? We could use the Rat Patrol"—Naked Raygun.
C. Bales tries to get dirt on this alley roaming Chicago bike club

To Fifty More Happy & Healthy Years
Fiction by Zach Boddicker

Buy A Break
Music careet not progressing as fast as you'd like? Well, now you can buy a break from the Reglar Wiglar

Record Reviews
Not really reviews per se

Zines Reviews

Fantastic Comics
We call them fantastic, 'cause that's what they are

Classic Comics
In honor of ten years of publication we're treating you to some classic comics*

*previously run


Editor
Chrispy Auman

Reglar Wiglar Staff
Carol Bales (Star Reporter), Mike Dixon, Joey T. Germ, Irresistible Frank, P.C. Jones, Malcolm Tent, Jayne Wayne, Others

Contributing Writers
Chris Auman, Carol Bales, Zach Boddicker, Mike Dixon, Mark Morton, Tom 'Tearaway' Schulte, Cameron Tayler

Contributing Artists
Chris Auman, Mike Hollingsworth, Jeffrey Plotkin, Jesse Reklaw, Ben Shepard

Cover
Damon Belanger

Distribution
Desert Moon Periodicals, Loop Distro, Red Line Distribution, Tower Magazines


All contents © 2003 Reglar Wiglar. Contributors keep their own copyrights, we don't want 'em.

The Reglar Wiglar's ass is owned by Pocket Swivel Incorporated which is controlled, in part, by Giganta Corp. and Hugantic Limited. Everything is copyrighted and registered and really, really complicated and confusing to the point where we don't really know where our paychecks come from and consequently whose ass to kiss, which I think is the way they prefer things, whoever they are.

Several animals were injured in the making of this magazine. All typos in this publication should have been fixed by now. Sorry.

All opinions and ideas expressed in this publication are the author's own fucked up opinions and ideas and therefore entirely their own problem. Any similarities to people dead or dying was probably done just to fry your noodle.


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IDIOTORIAL

by CHRIS AUMAN

Ten years of the Reglar Wiglar and what a long, hard slog it's been. Ten years and nineteen issues. That's something fact, that's exactly 1.9 issues per year. To celebrate this milestone in history you would think I would've tried to come up with something a little extra special for this issue's Idiotorial. You would think. I got nuthan' -though. Sorry. But what I figured I'd do is, I thought I'd turn this issue's Idiotorial over to you guys and try to answer some of the questions that you, the audience, might have. So, let's get started shall we? Does anybody-have any questions? Yes, you right up front there with the funny pants. What's that? Did I think that after ten years I would still be doing the Reglar Wiglar? Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Next question. Yes, you in the back with the Sum 41 t-shirt. Did I think the Reglar Wiglar would have come as far as it has in just a decade? No, I would have thought that this magazine would have gone much, much, much further than it has. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed. Yes, you with the garage rock haircut--looks like you got up on the wrong side of 1965. Ha! I'm sorry, anyway what was your question? Have I enjoyed publishing this magazine? Wow. Enjoyed. Enjoyed is a such a strong word. Next. Yes, Miss. Well thank you, I feel good. What's that? Shame on you young lady, that is not right, but I appreciate it, thank you. I'll be hanging around for a bit after the Idiotorial if you'd like me to elaborate further on that subject. Anyone else? Yes, you with the pierced...thingy. What's that? I have a face for publishing? That's very funny, sir. Let's say we leave the snappy one-liners to George W., OK? Now what was your question? How do I sleep at night? Like a baby, like a really, really tired baby. What kind of question is that? OK you in the front. Relax son, what's the matter, you got ants in your underpants? Oh shit, yeah that can be painful. You have to wash ALL your clothes and sheets? Yes, and shave everything. Next. Do I have any scruples left after ten years in this business? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Sure. Have I had the chance to listen to some really, really bad music? Absolutely. OK people, last question, please. What was that Ma'am, was it worth it? That's a very, very good question. OK, I see your hands but this has got to be the last question. Yes? What's the question? The question is, what's next? Is that right? I don't know, but I'd like that inscribed on my tombstone. Thanks guys.


M.O.T.O.

Interview by CHRIS AUMAN

I had heard of Masters of the Obvious (M.0.T.0.). I had seen the name around for years: just one of those bands that, when you live in city as big and as hopelessly spread out as Chicago, you just manage to miss perpetually. I recently read they had put out something like seventeen albums. That piqued my interest, so I tracked down their latest release Kill M.O.T.O. (Criminal IQ). Upon hearing the infectious and often humorous guitar pop contained on the record, I tracked down the culprit, Paul "Jet" Caporino. It's amazing what's right under your nose in this town. In fact, I recognized Paul as working at the Record Emporium on Paulina at Roscoe and Lincoln where I've spent a few hours sorting through their dusty collection of used vinyl. I was also happy to discover that not only has M.O.T.O. made a half dozen LPs, they've also managed to produce dozens upon dozens of seven inches, EPs, and cassettes AND the band has existed, in some form or another, for over twenty years! That's enough to make even Hawkwind blush! Well, maybe not Hawkwind, but you know what I mean, that's impressive. Anyway, I met with the M.O.T.O. mastermind in October at the Lakeview Restaurant on Ashland Avenue.

Read the Complete Interview



THE RAT PATROL

Inteview by C. BALES

Americans produce a lot of trash and who feeds on all this trash? Rats. Or in Chicago's alleyways, The Rat Patrol. In simplest terms The Rat Patrol could be called a bicycle group, but I discovered they are much more complex. After checking out their website and reading the detailed Manifesto, I couldn't tell whether they were political activists or some kind of huge art project. Intrigued, I set up a meeting with one of the founders, Matt The Rat. I had every intention of riding my bike to the interview. From what I perceived, The Rat Patrol would look down on someone who drove a car. Since I don't own a car, that part was easy. My good intentions got me as far as the bus stop but I got tired of waiting and took a cab. Outside of Ranalli's Pizza (Montrose & Ashland in Uptown), I spotted the Rat Bike I would later know as Abigail The Chicken (a chopper with a cut-out chicken head on the front). I headed inside to find a friendly face sitting in the first booth. I introduced myself, lying that I had taken the bus.

Read the Complete Interview


BUY A BREAK

Let's face it, it's tough to play the part of the starving artist these days. Take it from the good hearted kids at the Reglar Wiglar—we're starving and we're not even close to be artists, but we feel your pain. We have good imaginations and we can just imagine how hard it is.

If you're a musician struggling to get something going, trying to find a place to play with a group of people you can halfway stand, get gigs, sleep with enough of the "right people" to get some studio time and keep it all together long enough to make your record--and then your record sucks? That can be frustrating.

Maybe you're the owner of a record label and you're putting your heart and soul (and big wads of cash) into it. You work two jobs, you have two loans, you scrimp and save and clutch your purse strings and you still have a roster full of shitty bands. What are you going to do now that you've signed them?

Suppose you have a brother or a sister or a parent or just a really good friend who thinks they've got the music inside of them, but everything they touch seems to turn to shit: critics pan them, most zines can't stand them, but you want to do something—anything to ease their battered egos.

Well, now you can help.

The Reglar Wiglar is proud to introduce to you, a special, limited time offer. We are now making it possible for you to buy a good review. That's right, for one easy installment of $19.95 (a month for a year) you can buy your band or loved one's band, a good review. You ever heard someone exclaim in frustration, "I can't buy a break!"? Well, now you can.

Choose from a variety of packages. Simply insert the name of the band, their record, and any key members you want mentioned, and mail in the form with your cash payment. We will try to include the review in the very next issue of the Reglar Wiglar.

Get your band gigs, radio airplay, better distribution, or just give them something to finally justify their enormous egos.

Read the Complete Article

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