The Culture Bunker

A Friendly Remainder

by William Ham
Illustration by David Coscia, the Artist formerly known as Space Jockey, known prior to that (where statutes of limitation have expired) as David Coscia

We at Fulcourt Press are proudly forced to present highlights from our Fall book catalogue. To order, send price of book plus $6.50 shipping and handling and a signed waiver absolving us of all civil liability to: Fulcourt Press, c/o Jimmy’s Bail Fund, 199 Cattell Drive, Apt. 4B, Viagra Falls, N.Y. (zip code available on request). When ordering, please specify surface mail, UPS, courier pigeon, or OverFed Ex (morbidly obese customers only). All titles have some sort of writing in them unless otherwise indicated.

Chevrolita
by Vladivostok Whoopingkov
This modern classic, available for the first time in this country after a 40-minute ban, follows Philbert Philbert Philbert, an Eastern European emigré who comes to America only to find himself hopelessly, tragically, disgustingly smitten with the ventilation ports of a ’58 Buick. In brilliant, allusive prose, Whoopingkov weaves a mesmerizing tale of obsession, ardor, and oil changes in what critics have called “the only true love story written this century” and “the result of reading a poorly-translated article on ‘America’s love affair with the automobile’.” Through it all, Whoopingkov audaciously refuses to moralize – whether Philbert is a doomed romantic, the embodiment of post-industrial decadence, or a sick, filthy pervert is left up to you, the reader, to decide. Although it should be obvious to anybody with moral standards exceeding that of an unneutered hound dog that he’s a pervert. But to be fair, if I had to lurch around in one of those clunky beet-burners the Russkies call cars, I’d probably want to fuck a GM product, too.
(462 pp. with photos and lame rationalizations/hardcover/$26.95 + $50.00 fine for ownership)

A Supposedly Great Book You’ll Never Finish Reading
by Damon Forster Wingnut
The author of the critically-acknowledged Infinite Text is back with another labyrinthine journey through the mind of a man who cleverly renegotiated his publishing contract so he gets paid by the word, with a considerable bonus if the width of the book’s spine exceeds the length of Manute Bol’s middle finger. Compared by many to Pynchon, Joyce, and other great modern novelists whose books are best used to flatten fila dough, Wingnut flexes his meta-muscle with the same skill he brought to his previous works, which is to say he reprints a large chunk of Home Footbinding Made E-Z about 600 pages in, secure in the knowledge that nobody will notice. “Highly” “recommended.”
(3,226 pp. with glossary, footnotes and photographs of luncheon meat/hardcover/$32.75/not recommended for hernia victims or asthmatics)

The ‘Bama Sutra
edited by Cletus-Jim Vajdriajanana
The latest edition of the erotic classic, garishly illustrated, showing in sadly explicit detail hundreds of different techniques and positions for having sex with blood relatives or the merely toothless. “The Hee-Haw Art of Love” also contains pointers on the sensuous possibilities inherent in Chevies on blocks, Copenhagen chewing tobacco, oversized belt buckles, and goiters. The first 500 orders also receive a free copy of Skin Graft magazine, featuring a variety of artfully-executed photos of naked and provocatively-clad women accepting bribes, kickbacks, and payola.
     “Ewwww…” – Larry Flynt
(326 pp. with no big words/hardcover/$20.00/proof of age and psychiatrist’s note required for purchase)

The Turner Dairies
by L.C. Borden
The infamous novel that may have inspired acts of lactose intolerance like last year’s Oklahoma City Curdling, The Turner Dairies follows a member of the Carnationalist Order (aka the Two-Percenters), a radical faction of cereal murderers and white-powderists dedicated to “keeping America’s milk pure and uncondensed,” as he fortifies himself to do battle with the “taste-mixers and chocolate-lovers that have systematically weakened the bones of this once half-gallant nation, to the point that mere calcium deposits of resistance remain. I can’t believe it’s not better. We must rise again to the top, skimming the chosen with cold, refreshing stealth, cartin’ the real cream of this land in the pure white heavenly trucks prophesied in the Book of Lactations, until America is an active culture again. It cannot be done by half-and-half measures. It does a civil body good.” Although this book preaches homogenocide and contains both instructions for building home-made bombs and a recipe for a shake that will knock your socks off, we consider it a necessary purchase for those who wish to understand the mindset behind this movement and to help prevent such cowardly crimes from happening in the future. Remember, what is pasteurized is prologue. WARNING: Ownership of this book may make you vulnerable to unannounced late-night fridge raids by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Ovaltine.
     “Didn’t you run a whole bunch of bad lactose-intolerance puns a couple of years ago? Are you that starved for new ideas?” – Lola Killeen, Americans for a Funnier Humor Column
     “Shut up or I’ll cut you.”- William Ham, Lollipop
(288 pp. with 3% of the recommended daily allowance of adverbs/softcover/$13.99/best read by 10-26)

Abercrombie “Tex” Binofski – The Collected E-Mails
edited by mistake
Before his untimely death by chocolate in 1996, poet/novelist/ professional brooder Binofski spent many hours and a great deal of bandwidth writing dark, confessional, and badly punctuated electronic missives to friends, colleagues, and members of the alt.suicidal.geniuses newsgroup, providing a unique glimpse into the tortured psyche and battered server of a singular genius. An excerpt:

“There was once a time when the slightest amusement would leave me ROTFL. As time has played its inexorable games upon my tremulous soul, it became harder and harder even to LOL. Now, it seems, I can scarcely . I am now gripped by the deepest, darkest, most profound despair. :(”

A must-read for the sensitive, troubled soul; a must-keep-around-the-house-to-look-like-an-intellectual for the rest of us. (To respond emotionally to this book, reply to morosebastard@pretentiousschmuck.com and include the words I AM DEEPLY MOVED in the subject line.)
“A true genius, I guess” – Barry M. Anima, author of Ventriloquism for Dummies
(314 pp. without odd-numbered pages/softcover/$10.95 plus $40.00 installation fee)

The Jungle Book of the Dead
by Stockyard Tippling
The inevitable sequel to one of the most popular childrens’ books of all time. As it opens, Mowgli, the lovable lad growing to manhood in the wilds of Africa, is mistaken for a bull elephant by a psychopathic, cock-eyed poacher and has his teeth smashed out with a hammer and sold for scrimshaw. Then the jungle is bulldozed over and zoned for condominiums. Dozens of decadent upper-class layabouts and jet-setting Eurotrash descend upon the site, only to see property values plummet when their subservient manservants keep waking up in the night, tortured by the unceasing caterwauling of the spirits of deceased jungle beasts singing “The Bear Necessities,” rewritten as a hellish dirge. But everything culminates in a happy ending when you close the book and toss it into the incinerator. Soon to be a major motion picture once Walt Disney gets defrosted and starts in on a rampage of terror that will make Nazi Germany look like a weekend insurance seminar in Des Moines. Magic Mountain über alles!

“You’re sick, aren’t you? I mean, certifiably nuts, am I right?” – Lola Killeen, Citizens United By Clasping Each Others’ Hands and Swaying Slightly
“One more comment like that and I’ll slice off your quotation marks with an old pair of pinking shears.” – William Ham, Lollipop

Who Really Killed Josh M. Kennedy?
by Braxton Hicks
The latest inquiry into the darkest and most lucrative tragedy of the century. Based on interviews with eyewitnesses and documents obtained under the Freedom of Inflammation Act, Hicks presents the strongest case yet against the official assassination scenario presented in the Lauren Commission Report, refuting the “loam gunman” theory (no evidence of clay or potting soil was found anywhere near the site, Hicks discovers), concluding that G. Harley Oxnard could not possibly have fired the shots that killed the president and injured Sean Connery (in fact, Hicks finds, the Scottish actor was busy filming Thunderball at the time and was nowhere near Dallas that day!) and that the murder was most likely committed by a conspiracy within our own government in reaction to Kennedy’s views on Southeast Malaysia and a band of cubists somehow involved with the Castro Convertible sofa company. An eye-opening piece of well-researched investigative journalism from a writer who, admittedly, doesn’t hear all that well.
     “It’s got me convinced!”- Marlee Matlin
(466 pp. with a large coffee stain on the cover/softcover/$9.95 or best offer)

A Buttered Sylph in Herefordshire
by Randee Bugger
Fulcourt Press enters the exciting realm of mass-produced historical fiction with this nearly thrilling tale of the Lower Middle Ages. In 17th Century England, young Bickford Denny-Ihop, a simple cheese-watcher’s apprentice, finds himself enlisted in an overseas battle to wrest control of the Hepatitis Sea from King Vidor of Dyptheria and establish trade rights and erect “no horseplay” signs. On a layover in Geneva to refurbish their ship’s stores and invent slacks, Bickford falls in love with a maiden who may be the illegitimate daughter of Christian IV, the Danish monarch, or Muslim VI, a monarch who simply enjoys pastry, depending on which translator he asks. They very nearly consummate their romance (which, in their youthful naïvete, they think involves wearing each others’ shoes), but Bickford is suddenly called away on important business: The Defenestration of Prague has just occured and they need someone with a dictionary to figure out whether that’s a good or a bad thing. While his shipmates are looking it up, Bickford is captured by a roving band of privateers who figure that he, with his young, unblemished features and women’s shoes, would be the perfect decoy to distract the royal guards in Bohemia while they conspire to install Ferdinand II on the throne. The installation fails and the privateers send Bickford out for replacement parts while they stay and teach the Bohemians how to snap their fingers in appreciation of bad poetry. On his journey, he overhears a plan to end the Thirty Years’ War several years early, thus throwing the Habsburgs’ plans for the Palatinate into disarray and forcing them to throw out all the commemorative t-shirts they’d already paid for the printing of. Complications ensue.

“Okay, now you’re just wasting space. And the tags you’ve been putting after my name are getting a little self-conscious.”- Lola Killeen, the National Disorganization of Wmoen”
All right, I’ve had it with you. Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face?” – William Ham, Lollipop

“You don’t have to ask me twice. Come on, whimsy boy, let’s get it on.”- Lola Killeen, Mothers Against Drunk Snowboarding

“Oh. Geez, you know, you’re a little… bigger than I thought you’d be. Howzabout we be friends, huh?”- William Ham,  Lollipop

“Too late for that! Eat flaming bicep, hacko!” – Lola Killeen, the Stop the Violence, Pull Over, and Get Me A Soda Foundation

“OWW! OWWW! Jesus, that hurts! Okay, okay, I can take constructive – YOWCH! – criticism as well as the next guy. I was thinking of doing a – OOH! Not the face! – sorta Life In These United States kind of thing from now on. What do you – OHH! Are those your teeth? – okay, you like Daffynitions? We can – OOCH! – or w-we could, uh, take the whole c-column out and p-p-put the ‘Jumble’ in its pl – YIIIAAAGGHHH…” – William Ham, formerly of  Lollipop