< zines >
JOHNNY AMERICA #1
by various
($3.00 from Johnny America / PO Box 44-2001 / Lawrence KS / 66044 USA. Web:
www.johnnyamerica.com)
Reviewed by Alan RankinThis is the first print edition of the webzine
Johnny America, featuring short-short stories and mini-reviews written in a detached, ironic style that’s often quite funny. Dry humor like this doesn't lend itself to description, though; you try explaining why it's funny, and not only do you fail, you end up sounding like a square who wouldn't know "funny" if it walked in wearing clown shoes. So rather than try to describe the style of
Johnny America, I’m going to imitate it for this very review:
At 8 A., the phone rudely roused me from my hungover slumber. I rolled away from the naked blonde and picked it up. She muttered “Melvin” and fell back asleep. Good. Saved me the trouble of remembering her name.
It was Ricko on the phone. “Got a job for you. Reviewing
Johnny America. It’s the first print edition of the webzine, featuring short-short –“
I cut him off. “We all read the intro. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Contributors include Emily Lawton and Jonathan Holley. Most stories are less than a page, so it’s a pretty fast read. What do you say? Are you up for it?”
I swung my legs off the bed and sat up. “I dunno, RB. I’m still on this
Untamed Highway case right now. Could be months before I’m done with it.”
That’s when he hit me with the kicker. “It's published by some outfit calling themselves the Moon Rabbit Drinking Club & Benevolence Society. They’re out of Lawrence, Kansas.”
Lawrence. College town. Former home of Beat writer William Burroughs. Anybody bold enough to use that locale as a literary base either has plenty of street-cred, or cojones the size of Donald Trump’s hubris. “I’ll take it, Rick.”
I could hear his satisfied smirk over the phone. “Good. I’ll have it right over to ya by bike messenger. I need the review by May 12th.” Good ole Ricko and his unrealistic deadlines.
The bike messenger showed up half an hour later. This was no small feat, since I was 200 miles away from Rick at the time. I paid him and let him collapse in a corner of the yard. When I opened the package, a couple of gimme’s fell out — a button and sticker bearing the Johnny America logo, a starry-eyed rabbit. I smirked: obvious bribes to sway the weak-minded reviewer. (Worked on me...) The first thing I noticed about the zine was the intricate cover design: like a roll of bad wallpaper, yet somehow eye-catching at the same time.
Ricko was right; it was a fast read. I was halfway through by the time the blonde came to, dressed, muttered a groggy apology, and left. Heading home to Melvin, no doubt.
In a collection of roughly forty stories, some will naturally be better than others. If you don't like the in-depth discussion of the best way to pop a plastic straw out of its wrapper, turn the page and there's an amusing chat with a gangsta-rapper, in which he outlines the classical roots and subtle post-feminist nuances of the word “bee-yotch.” In other words, something for the whole family.
Is it worth three bucks? Sure, why not? I mean, otherwise you’ll spend that money on a Triple-Cinnamon Latte at Starbucks, and the surly glare you get from the dreadie-kid behind the counter isn’t nearly as much fun as the submission guidelines listed in the back of
Johnny America #1. No kidding.
The typeface is kinda small; not the sort of thing you wanna read on a bleary, hungover morning. But under a good strong reading light, you’ll find the stories at least mildly amusing — if not particularly deep or introspective. But hey, we can’t all be Honore de Balzac. (The anonymous editors tell us the typeface will change in future issues — but how do we know we can trust THEM?)
I started writing the review after my two-beer breakfast, and had it winging off to Ricko by my second brunch bourbon. Outraged at my excess, he threatened to send two thugs from the Zinester Mafia around to rearrange my typing fingers. Ah well. That’s how it goes: some days you’re the gorilla, some days you’re just the banana.
[ Link to this review ]
