BISON cover letter PRIZE winner
Andrew Rhodes
This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #14. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the entire month to various "bonus materials"
This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #14. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the entire month to various "bonus materials"
This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #14. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the entire month to various "bonus materials"
This month sees publication of our newest print issue, Hobart #14. As such, and as we have done to accompany our last few print issues, we are devoting the entire month to various "bonus materials"
The A.D.T. man has only come to fix the security system, check each connect, repair the wire that’s frayed, reprogram the alarm before he drives off to do the same thing three blocks over. He wants no part in these people’s lives, he has no heart to join their quest for the secure, their rich man fantasy they can protect themselves, if only they will pay.
The prison is a test market—a closed circuit, a place where candymakers can focus on the choices made when options are limited. Research into what people will eat when they have nowhere to go.
You tell Jeff Bridges you fear
your dying breath will be just like
the whimper you make when trying
to remove glitter polish from your
toenails. He sets his guitar down on
the fur
Morgan Freeman makes me cry.
Sure, sometimes it’s better not to just come right out and say it, for instance “the unicorns” represent “the writing” and that “the unicorns” are the perfect symbol of “the writing’s magical, elusive, cunning, and enchanted nature.”
The night before you were born, your mother and I watched Knocked Up downstairs in the family room.
1) Technically, everything remains but the stereo, circa 1998, a sound system so old it couldn't play CD's for more than an hour without overheating into unbearable skips...
Here’s a story. One night in the tedious plains of Colorado, Abraham Lincoln drove his Model T into an embankment...
An excited murmur came to life when the audience was informed of the PhD in Biogenetics, the B.S. in Mechanical Engineering, and then the sweet icing: the minor in English.
It’s a different gator every year, but we talk like it’s the same one.
The night needed a push. I was the only customer in the place, this small dark place called Barely Legal with just one stage and a handful of circle tables and red candles. I’d run out of money
I remember one robot was called a SENTRY and it guarded the door...
Welcome to Camp Bread Loaf. Put your apron on.