As anyone that has ever gone the lazy route to an effective essay opener knows, there are an insane amount of Quotation search engines and websites on the internet. Impregnated by banal words of wisdom from greats such as Albert Einstein, Mark Twain, and Winston Churchill, a quick scan though one of these sites tends to cause a general sick feeling in one’s stomach peppered with a belief in the power of the inspired soul/ the richness of the human experience. It’s a pleasantly indulgent and shameful experience. We here at Spit Take want to be your QuoteGarden.com. We want to make you a bit queasy and joyful at the same time. Make you giggle over our rapidly changing existence as a world culture and species, but also maybe frighten those of you that are ready to admit that as a people, we might be a little bit out of our league on … well, you know, everything. If we can’t do that for you, please pass this small zine to someone who might enjoy it.  As George Orwell said, “Advertising is the rattling of a stick inside a swill bucket.”
-Editor Red

Photography by Justin Hadley, Design by Cassi Costoulas, Campaign by Manda Costoulas

In a surprising twist to the unexpected growth and popularity of social networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace over the last decade, Facebook founder and president Mark Zuckerberg announced Tuesday that the “era of social networking” has finally come to an end after what Zuckerberg described as a “decade of wasted time.”
Over the last few years, more and more Americans have flocked to sites such as Facebook in order to keep in touch with long-lost friends, see vacation pictures posted by relatives, and spy on girls that they secretly like, but would never actually make a move on.
“I’m really just tired of it,” Zuckerberg explained. “Facebook used to be fun, but every time I try to make the site better, hundreds of people make ‘STOP NEW FACEBOOK’ groups. Literally hundreds. That gets on your nerves after a while. So it’s over. I’m done, which means so is social networking.” When asked what would happen to the other social networking sites, Zuckerberg replied with a blank stare. “What other social networking sites?” he asked.
Some Facebook users, however, are protesting the end of Facebook. As of this morning, at least fifty-seven “Save Social Networking!” Facebook group have been spotted, along with one “I Bet This Pickle Can Get More Fans Than a Social Networking Group” group.
Zuckerberg recently drafted a memo entitled “Why I Think You’re All Dumb F*cks” and sent it to all Facebook users via an old fashioned letter. When asked how he obtained millions of worldwide addresses, Zuckerberg replied, “How stupid do you think I am?” and proceeded to list off hundreds of matching names and social security numbers off the top of his head.
In other news, the US Postal Service has recorded its first profit in the last thirty years.

 I was there in the beginning.  
 It was I who was essential in breaking the grip of England on this fledgling nation. I brought the colonies together and helped make them one. It was I who gave the southern states the will to rebel, and the North the strength to unite us again. When people got caught up in their selfish or bigoted ways, I helped the right people find their voice. I helped them speak out against injustice.  
 It was I that gave support to our forces that brought down the tyranny of fascism, and it was I that gave our forces the backing to lead the front and topple the Nazi regime. Communism was defeated by me, and it was I who kept the fear mongers from getting control. I led the drive to take action and remove communism from the republic of Vietnam, and I gave the people the will to demand the actions end. I gave purpose to those who went to the desert, and the next generation that went back.  
 But like anyone or anything that serves the American government, I am dissolved when I am no longer useful. But like any effective agency I stand for something bigger than myself, and I will go rogue if I must to protect my people.  
 I took control of the government and the population when the towers fell and led them both forward. I am who the terrorists want. Once again I was removed from the front lines by the powers that be.  
 Those in charge then and those in charge now have done their best to corral me. To use my power and influence for their purposes, and when I refuse they undermine my influence and try to trick me into their way of thinking. But always I exist under the surface -- an underground organization, a sleeping giant.  
 I am no secret agency, no subversive group, no rebel force. I am the pride, patriotism, and hope of the American people, and unlike the other powers that drive this great nation I am adaptive and ever changing. I can learn from my mistakes and the mistakes of others, and though you may not agree with methods I've used in the past or all that has been done in my name, I would still ask you to join me. Each and every one of you has a place here, and if those who govern this great land will not join us, then they are our enemies. This nation has many flaws, but we are in a position to lead the world in doing what is right for humanity as a race, for this planet, and for every one of the seven billion individuals that reside here. And that is something worth fighting for.  
 May this country remember what made her great, and may we never lose my spirit, the spirit of revolution!

I wonder how many people go to great lengths to break into vending machines; not for the cash, but because a bum machine swindled them out of their rightfully bought property by refusing to give them what they paid for and then shamelessly mocked them by letting them look at it for as long as they want until they get into a nice long stew about it.
All I wanted was some Ramen. And because my hotel had Ramen in their previously non-offending vending machine, I thought I was in luck. Quick trip downstairs, bada bing bada boom, Ramen in my bowl. I should have known something terrible was going to happen the moment I looked down at those delicious freeze-dried noodles and saw that, ominously, they had no price tag or number. However, through the power of some impressive deductive reasoning, and by that I mean putting in quarter after quarter until the machine gave me some Ramen, I paid an exorbitant dollar seventy-five for one pack of chicken powder flavored Ramen noodles. Which, as everyone knows, goes for about nineteen cents at the grocery store. However, I knew when I got into this that I would be paying for convenience, so I grit my teeth and thought of England. But the real trial was still to come.
When I put in my next dollar seventy-five, the unthinkable happened. The wire circle cradling my beloved Ramen did not complete its resolution. There was my Ramen, sitting there, crying out to me, while its coiled prison did not let it escape. Without even a hope of knocking it loose, I stood at that moment at a crossroads. Another woman, a better woman, perhaps, would maybe have cut her losses at that point. Taken the one pack of Ramen, not a meal, certainly, but not nothing, either. I am not that woman.