#4 And #5, POB 757 Stuyvesant Station, New York, NY 10009 ($12 for 4 issues)
This zine is filled with venom, bile, hatred and loathing for all that is small, evil, weak and petty in humanity, written with such bluntness that it's like being repeatedly smacked in the head with a large rubber mallet in some sort of Pavlovian aversion therapy. This is just the thing for long hours in the jury lounge - slamming bad poetry, insulting anarchists for their hypocrisy, exposing Keanu Reeves to the scorn he so richly deserves and the like. The beast part of this zine is Jeff Koyen's writing about life - both his own and what he sees around him. It isn't happy, but if you're looking for happiness, I suspect you're in the wrong place and would suggest consulting a doctor about Prozac.