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   ooooo   ooooo  .oooooo.  oooooooooooo       HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #717
   `888'   `888' d8P'  `Y8b `888'     `8
    888     888 888      888 888                   "Struck a Chord"
    888ooooo888 888      888 888oooo8
    888     888 888      888 888    "                by Mr A Jim
    888     888 `88b    d88' 888       o               7/1/99
   o888o   o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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        the man's pocket was full of cigars.

        not good ones, mind you, but cheap ones adorned with cellophane and a
 bright white "seal" and pseudospanish.

        and there were some pens in there, too.

        they looked kind of nice in there, in that blue and white checkered
 shirt that the man wore.  they gave him character.

        yes, character.

        character, like so many words before its time, an embellishment of
 fine excuses across the world.  "a face with character."  a noble face.

        the man's face was noble.  sort of.

        his greasy, mulatto face was almost commonplace; the stiff, balding
 mass of nappy, untrimmed hair above it was brownish, like the cigars in his
 pocket.

        also like the cigars, the hair was there for a purpose, however
 unseen.

        unseen.  what was that thing, again?  oh, yeah.  i forget sometimes.
 funny like that.

        to be unique and satisfied.  to focus.  to never lose sight.  to
 never bother with just how to move your feet so people can get by.

        to never be affected by the girl with the piercing eyes and the
 square-jawed, ageless body asking whether she prefers the front or the back.
 to participate, and be in your clubs and your over-65 rituals and your
 coolidge corner drug store and your dignified immigrant family in a jewish
 suburb.  to eat your crazy cheap chinese food with previously frozen green
 peas and force your values and go home.

        having achieved the great dream, the man, determined, made his way to
 the back of the bus and out of my sight.

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 [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!   HOE #717 - WRITTEN BY: MR A JIM - 7/1/99 ]