Posted Novecember 8, 287, 7:62PM ~ as your local distro for a photocopy version !
version 008-2.0 includes the pamphlet NEVER EVER TRANSITION !!!

T r ! n n y P u n k

issue 008
version 8-11-08-spelling -- formatting01.2

H o w   t o   K i l l   Q u e e r   S c u m.

The True storey of a 33 year old  woman getting tr*ns- bashed to near death with an iron pipe.

 Lillian Bloodgherdt         ~


I'm the aging Tr*ns Punk lady who makes, the worlds number one trans supremacist, Bio-people hate mongering, resource drop in center for tr*ns punks and assorted allies!!

This is me trying to not get thrown out of an all night diner and write a zine-journal thing about how to kill queers. As you may know queers are basically revolting wretched garbage people who are human trash and the kind of garbage people no one would ever miss. The fact that I'm sitting in a dinner with fag waiters in thew middle of SanFagsicco with fags and dykes of all age combinations walking arround holding hands in public might make that theory look discredited slightly. I've also been crashing with friends a lot and most of them are queers or trans people or both. Its as if there is a happy friendly community of them or something.

Killing a queer or tr!nny should be easy enuff to do tho. You hear about it in the paper a lot i think. and there's all kinds of great reasons to kill one of us, like "Tr!nny Panic Defense" !! Actually TPD is civil court hiccup, if passed in to law this bill written in tribute to the late Gwen A. Would make it defensible to beat someone to death with a frying pan in the event that a gender irregularity is discovered. Like if you found out your long time friend was not exactly the gender you thought they were you could solve the confusion by killing them and the judge might go easy on you. It would be great to have this civil court motion be a real law cuz it could also be interpreted that if your ambiguous gender is upsetting someone you could kill them and fix the problem.

This pamphlet was written as my mental detoxing after a few months of having a slow rough recovery that taxed my friends almost as bad as it taxed me.

 See, six months ago someone beat me with a pipe until he split my skull open on the left forehead. Hospital put me back together over the next few months, I got no idea who that guy was, I cant even really say it was a trans-panic cuz I only vaugely remember him calling me something like "disgusting freak piece of shit".
 I'm a funny looking kid. In a really androgynous way were people just aren't sure what the hell i am. And all that head trauma fucked me up a bit and my memory is bad and I get depressed or angry a lot. I black out in the middle of sentences, have bad mood swings. Don't worry about me cuz I'm in 5 different drop in center counseling/LGBTQ doctors/here-have-more-pamphlets groups and they send me to a new one each week.

This is supposed to be an important informational pamphlet on how to kill queers, tr!nnys, and especially Queer Tr!nnys ( heya ! :). Remember; if you find yourself killing a fruit-freak sometime soon, please do your bestest to make sure you really kill them. Try removing the head from the body or at least disembowel them. Just cracking open a skull doesn't always work. Fuck up killing a queen and you'll just have angry tr*nnys walking around with mean looking face scars talking shit and writing a zine about how you are a little wimpy coward idiot piece of shit. What ever happened to you, killah !?!? Come back and finish the job you useless shit!! Were are you ? Sucking the piss that drips outta yer moma's nipples. Fuck you, I'll take your whole face off a piece at a time with a hammer if I ever get to meet you again. YOU'RE the piece of shit pussy-fag! You're fuckin dead.

Sorry, that was me having one of my "post-traumatic psychotic-episodes". I'm fine. This diner never gave me my coffee I ordered an hour ago.

Wires and Tubes

There's a box on the wall making a long ugly beep noise.
a very tired nurse in scrubs with pictures of kittens all over come up to yell in my face.
"did you rip your IV out again ?? Why did you do that ??"

Yeh, I did. I ripped out 2 IVs. One is just NaCl. The other is fucking Demerol. I been in a Demerol coma for 9 days.

I told the Nurse something like "its no, I don't want that. I 'm OK, I'm gotta just I cant yet....".

 Thats not effective communicating. There was still a lot of coagulated blood sloshing about between my brain and the sclara membrane arround it. Either the blood clot hematoma or actual impact damage has screwed up my thinking awfully terrible. Thinking hurts bad enuff that I dont talk when people talk to me. It takes about two months before my hematoma drains out enuff for me to even be upset that someone tried to kill me.

Call me Sybil. This part of the story is the part where i break out of my restraints again and rip off my EKG and my IVs. Some one tried to kill me 2 weeks ago and I have a lot of coagulated blood saturating my brain. It makes it hard to communicate with the nurses cuz I seem to stutter, mumble, and when I try to talk I cant remember the right words. You have two speech centers in your brain called Werner and Brocha. One turns thought in to language, the other turns words in your head in to speech. They also work the other way turning speech in to understanding in to thought. If someone smashes an iron pipe in to this part of your brain, which is right next to your left ear, then those functions might get impaired, for months or more.

The hospital has been restraining me lately cuz I keep trying to rip off all the tubes and wires and then I pass out and wake up reconnected to them again. I woke up with a breathing tube once. I woke up with a plastic hose going down my throat and into my lungs, I think I just made myself pass back out that time. sometimes my friends come visit me. I'm glad they found me at the hospital somehow. I don't know who but somebuddy was sweet enuff to call all the hospitals when I was missing for days. My friends come to see me and I think they talk to me but I suck at talking and have a 10 second memory.

Nurse put my restraints back on and re hooked up all my wires and tubes. I don't care. I broke 2 gurneys already. I broke out of the gurney at least 5 times and every time, as soon as my feet touch the hospital floor, I pass right out and wake up 3 hours later with my tubes hooked back up. My hospital bill is almost 100 thousand dollars. When they rebuilt my skull they cut off a bunch of my hair and my left eye has been rolled back in to my skull since they installed my plastic forehead. I don't even remember 3 days naked in the emergency room, my friends told me. Some of my friends were real excited to point out that, holy shit, I have a non vaginal urine and sex part. I've been operating with the wrong genitalia for years but I don't like to talk about it much.

You see, I'm Sybil, and I'm "trans". That is shorthand for anybuddy who cant be classified as "physiologically"
fully male or female and they may be receiving some experimental 20th century medical therapy to try to fix them. In my case it means i have tits and the wrong kind of thingy, (like a peepee instead of a noo noo), I'm missing any kind of actual reproductive organs, and at age 30 I'm a high risk for slipping in to menopause. I'm also really androgynous looking, the government says I'm female but I had to petition for them to declare me so. When I bike down the street i get people calling me "come over here baby girl !!" on one block and "faggot" on the next. I been in woman's jail and men's jail and they both suck. I got friends who are fags, queens, amazon dyke punks, queer players, and a few straight normals. Just a few tho.

I'm an artist and run a housing co-op and play bad guitar in a funny punk band and sometimes I work handyman jobs. I almost have a normal dating life, its a little hard when your neither of the main genders, people have hang ups about getting with someone who is neither and/or both male-female. I had a bunch of different girl and boy friends but they all been too brief. Like I said, I'm a wretched messy tr!nny, and dating is just the tip of the iceberg of people yelling shit at me, trying to kick me out of a gas station bathroom (that's only happened like 6 or 12 times in the last decade !!) and I get in a fight every year or so. Its probably my own fault, somebuddy calls me a fag or a queen and I get in their face, and I'm more high strung every year. People try to start shit with me often enough that I loose context and the result is 140 pounds of me screaming insults back at these big 200 plus pound asshole dudes. I'm crappy at fighting but I'm getting better with every altercation.  I've been meaning to take a fight class but I'm poor and there's 100 more interesting things I'm procrastinating on, so I get good at fighting eventually. The way things have been lately I almost got to wipe my things to do list completely clean. But it seems like I might be immortal, perhaps. So we'll see.

My Bionic Powers

Number one is the new skull. Actually, its the %90 the same skull I've had for years but they removed my left forehead, cut it up to make parts for my left eye socket, and then gave me a triangle plastic thing that has all these screws in it arround my hair line. Also my maxillary or upper mandible or whats it called got kinda knocked out of place and I had to get a few broken teeth out but the bad teeth were half my own fault. I been kinda homeless and broke for years. I also work any part time gigs I can get and ran a non profit for a while and do a little tiny bit of sloppy LGBTQ peer counseling. Right now I'm blowing $7 on coffee and a chilly fries (and 8 hours rent on a table and chair inside a functional building) and then I'm gonna go sleep in a lot behind a tar factory. "Homeless and broke" is an even more complicated category than "Tr!nny". Kind of like "gay" might mean a yuppie or it might mean a big hairy buttless chaps anal avenger pig slut cowboy. Its strange times we live in. I'm a tr!nsexual street punk with 20 tattoos. I've been in 2 movies and 8 car accidents. Life is funny and people are complex.

Bionic power number two is that I got %90 of my vision back after a few months. the left eye cant read small print and there's purple clouds and sparkles everywhere these days. Sometimes I see imaginary people and animals and shadows sneaking up on me from the left but they vanish when I turn my head. I have bionic imaginary friend detector powers.

Bionic power number three is my left arm being useless but I got %70 of the use back after 6 months.

Bionic power number four is loosing my sense of smell and half my sense of taste. I now have the power to volunteer to clean a bowl of rotten meat out of the fridge. I can also stand in a kitchen with the stove pilot out and filling the room with petroleum and not notice in the least. It also has something to do with that I no longer get hungry or thirsty and sometimes forget to eat or drink water for days. I made a new fun game were I don't eat for 2 days and then I worry about nutrition and force myself to eat a giant chilly fries. Diner food also gives me a place to be, with electricity and people arround, for a few hours.

I got more bionic powers like that they sewed my face back on a little bit crooked, a big chunk of my scalp with hair attached just fell off a month after the incident, mood swings, bad memory, anxiety attacks kind of. I cant feel half my face. I had more bionic powers for a while but a lot of them have faded. I had the power of forgetting every buddys name, and the incredible power of being unable to operate a doorknob for a few days. I'll explain my amazing peeing on the floor power in a minute.

There's No Place Like Home

I been living in a run down apartment building for the last 4 years. The plumbing and electric are fucked up and there's broken windows and rats and trash piles in the hallways. I'm the building superintendent !! The owner died 4 years ago so the tenants kind of took over. the government says I owe them dozens of thousands in tax and health department fines. I personally hung every door in the building and installed every toilet and electrical outlet so don't bug me about the slumminess. I did what I could. We likr it here cuz we don't pay rent but just collect a pay-wut-you-can house fund.

Misplacing the entire house fund was one of my first acts on returning. Somebuddy wanted to go to the hardware store so i gave him $900.  I was way to sick and fucked up to do any danged accounting. I threw the house books, deed, and records on the floor of the lobby cuz my head hurt.

Between that and the passing out, mumbling and stuttering and slurring, and being unable to see, somehow this unspoken plan to demote me and anull all responsibilities happened. That was fine with me. It was probably funny watching me try to be a superintendent in my state. In 2 months of insisting on working, sick as I could be, I painted half a bathroom purple, built a brick wall in the middle of the porch for no reason, painted all the fuse boxes blue, and sometimes if I was tired I couldn't figure out my way arround my own building or operate doors. That is the reason I kept pissing all over the floor. I couldn't hold it and I couldnt find the damn toilet.

Spent 2 months being a fucking joke version of a super/ ghost of my former self.  My speech was so garbled broken that people would give up on trying to understand me. Everybuddy told me they were glad I was OK and I should rest and they'd take over. Took about 2 months for everybuddy to completely re arrange the workshop, take all my art, tools and crap out of my studio, turn my studio in to somebuddys room, disperse all my stuff everywhere... and between people taking stuff out of my room and me being to fucked up to be able to find and pick up a screw driver out of my tool box my room was de-decorated trash by the start of month 2.

A 21 year old boy named Demo moved in to apartment C for a minute. Demo was crazy, drunk, kind of desperate short attention span freaking out all the time. When he was 18 they made him join the army or face jail for stealing a car. When he was 19 he'd seen way to much evil combat over there. At 19 and three quarters he got run through with a bayonet, his intestines popped out and he lay in the sand waiting to die but really distracted by the pain. Instead of dieing he got sewn back together and early discharge. At 21 he's a little sad and a lot crazy and tries to stay wasted to stay calm. I ran arround with him for a week getting drunk and then we'd wind up just sitting on the sidewalk downtown screaming at passers by and eachother. He'd get in this weird bad place were he'd kind of implode and start screaming at everything is shit and he hates everyone and everything. He liked me. I was real in to him but my left eye was still rolled up in to my busted skull and i passed out a lot and I was getting talking back but following conversations was still really hard. I couldn't really talk to him cuz it was way to much work. Besides, I already had a partner I was to sick to fuck properly. Demo would stalk me arround the house to tell me war stories and get me to drink with him, then he'd disappear for a day and reappear in the alley behind our building screaming nonsense and waking up neighbors.
 "kitchens are a big fake pile of crap !! I'll burn down your fuck face you shit asshole !!!".
 He disappeared but he was getting $500 a month from the army for the bayonet thing.

 Pretty good severance pay for getting sentenced to the army. I just really felt like we clicked....

Hillbilly Wedding with Moonshine

My friend Yuri's hillbilly wedding was perfect. 100 punks of every kind whooping it up on the end of a long abandoned fire damaged pier at the end of the harbor were there's just sunk boat hulls and bums in with instruments and tattered formal wear. Yuri brought 3 gallons of the moonshine he makes, I walked Seya, the bride, up to the altar but i don't remember much. last thing I remember was me sneaking away cuz I was way to tired for the endless wedding party. Last thing I remember is me trying to bike back to our house with a flat tire, drunk on moonshine, barely able to keep the flat tire bike moving. The last thing I remember is some blurry man standing over me calling me names. I don't remember no iron pipe, I was screaming about an iron pipe when I entered the hospital but I don't remember that either. I do remember lying on a gurney trying to figure out how I wound up in a hospital with all the tubes and wires running in and out of me.

Hey! Maybe a car hit me or I tried to kill myself by putting my head in front of a train. doesn't explain the injury. I got smashed with a small object only on the left side of my head. All I know is I was ranting about a man smashing me up with a pipe for days. My memory has about 30 seconds of time for 9 days in a hospital.

I remember waking up in an abandoned warehouse in a pile of garbage. I think I knew the place, its just a warehouse by the train tracks were you can get on the roof,drink and watch trains build. I kinda remember me dragging myself through the train yard with bloody hair, eyes swelling up, dizzy falling a lot. I remember trying to get the fuck in to hiding before the guy came back. i remember all that for sure but i don't remember a man breaking my skull. well I do, but its all dream shadows. I remember giving up on my bike and my purse while crawling through the grass and gravel. I just wanted to hide and sleep.

The time between me disappearing from the wedding and getting wheeled in to emergency so they could strip me naked and leave me flopped out in a half comma, that was 3 and a half days. I remember how everyone found me now: I lay in a pile of garbage for 3 fucking days. every few hours i'd try to get up, and it would be agony and I'd slump back in the garbage pile. felt like 3 minutes but i remember lying in the garbage watching the sun appear, cross the sky, and go back down a few times. i was in an out of consciousness and I really thought I was at a hospital. "this hospital is all fucked up" I said to the garbage. the next thing I remember was levitating to a better hospital.

I didn't actually levitate to the next hospital. this is part of why I'm reluctant to trust my memory too much. what actually happened is I spent a long time trying to climb out a window with a fucked up arm and head and vision. When I thought I was flying I was actually this bloody bruise stumbling randomly through the neighborhood. I don't remember interacting with anybuddy. I dont remember me stumbling in to Eustace and M's house and them being "holy shit" at me covered in blood and garbage and crashing in to everything. i just slumped on the floor and garbled "I have come 3 by 7 blocks, they hit me with a pipe, our hands are rocks, we throw rocks at them..." I don't remember any of this but that's what M told me a month later. m brought me to the hospital I guess. Maybe I did fly there. Its all foggy.

I remember lieing in my very own private hospital room that I got cuz a friend was nice enuff to complain about them leaving me naked in emergency for 3 days. Same friend brought me ice cream and made fun of me for having an ugly broken vagina for days. Whatever dude, your a sickly nelly fag with a crack and crystal habit. Wanna be friends still ?

Everything else about the hospital was me throwing medical junk on the floor for no reason, my friends stealing things, and me trying to get to the toilet under my own power instead of just peeing in the jug. No buddy else had any good physiotherapy ideas. After 9 days of mostly being passed out they woke me up and told me they'd finished repairing my skull and I could go now. My sight was just blurry double vision with fuzzy blurry purple crap. I couldn't walk 1000feet without passing out. I just lay in a hospital room with nurses telling me to leave. They didn't really throw me out untill a day later when a friend showed up and they insisted that he was now responsible for me and get the fuck rid of me. No follow ups, no explanation of how my head is doing or what I'm supposed to do next.

My friend stole a lot of gauze from them in retaliation.


You Assholes Really Suck at Killing Queer-Freaks

I'm still not sure if the iron pipe guy counts as a queer killer. I feel like I was more like getting tortured by a crazy crack head. Maybe I got beaten for being a weird punk kid who was one of the weird punk kids who stole an apartment building off a dead guy. It might have been a mugging but I only had $3 on me and I think I still had my purse when I was crawling through the train yard and just abandoned it myself. I think I remember getting called something like "fag freak" but my memory is broken and that seems after the fact of pipe man deciding to kill me cuz I'm going by real slow and drunk with a broken bike. I was yelling shit back at him. I'm not a great fighter but I'm an excellent shit talker. I hope I called him every nasty name ever before he finally turned my lights out.
Maybe my memory is crap and I got hit by a car with a pipe attached to it. I got hit by a car when i was 21. Got both sides of my head chewed up, concussion, cuts and bruises all over and a broken arm. My new injuries are the result of a small hard thing contacting my head in several spots close together. So perhaps its a car with lots of pipes attached to it maybe.

The last time I got beaten up for being a queer was when i was 24. Two jock party boyss called me and my friend Butterfield a couple of "your ass is open faggot !!"

Butterfield flipped them off and they ran arround the block and jumped us as we walked by. Butterfield got shoved in to a parked car and called a fag again. I got a 6 foot 3 guy crack me in the head a bunch of times until a bouncer from some bar ran over and chased him off. Broken teeth, concussion, dislocated jaw, two months of pudding.

Wait !!! Thats not the last time I got queer punched! They all blur together, it can be hard to remember them all in order. 4 or 5 years ago I'd been homeless for 9 months, and I was actually working for a foodbank giving out cans. We shared space with an old folks home that was so understaffed that the only reason I stole a bottle of morphine in the first place was cuz nobuddy is ever at the damn nurse station so they obviously dont care. Morphine is really bad for you and it numbs out your emotions. There's a whole 'nother story about me being depressed and on morphine and I threw a rock through my cousins window cuz I was lonely. long story. short version is the humongous roofer who lived next door comes outside and starts screaming at me, calls me an "it". As in he was hollering at his mates to "Throw  this IT the fuck off our property" You don't call a gender non-normative person an "it".
That's terrible etiquette.

So I told him, "your a fucking IT you cock sucking faggot !!"
He was like "what!!??"

So I called him a cocksucking fag again and started describing exactly how much he loves slurping cock. I do not understand the segment of the population who like getting blow jobs but would choose death over giving one. cocksucker rushed up at me then and pummeled my face a bit and I just jumped back up screaming dick sucking ass rim job shit lick faggy fag fag at him. There were 4 of my friends carrying me away by the limbs while I'm still screaming cocksucker at him with my nose blood mixing with my mouth blood. I had to stare at that cocksucker the next day while I had to replace a window but he didn't wanna chat with me no more.

That one only counts cuz it really marked the beginning of me loosing it at assholes calling me queertr!nnyfag. like no shit Sherlock but why you saying it mean ?? I had my nose bloodied a few times. Not often,but it happens. Honestly until recently fag bashing has been a complete non concern. until recently, car accidents, some relatively minor almost-drug -overdoses, and general clumsiness had taken way more out of me than any fight with the fagophobes. My friend Evell has pointed out that being an attempted closeted tr!nny and calling people "fag" every time they call me any of a variety of bad names is kind of horrible. For one thing it's bullshit to call people fags as an insult. For another I dont get to use the word fag since I'm not an actual fag. having tried to be a fag for a few years when I was younger does not count. Occasionally when I'm sleeping with a guy I pretend I'm a fag sometimes. really though I'm actually a pseudo woman who spent half her life as some kind of boy. Half the time I was being a boy I was a gay boy. Or trying to be. Hell I switched back and forth for years before
trying to stick with one. Now I'm technically a queer woman with an irregular classed 'gina.. I told most of my friends that I don't believe in gender or sexuality. Its all media lies !! I don't wanna talk about it !

I could start saying F!ggot kind of like I say Tr!nny. I'm apprehensive at the word Tr!nny even tho I've done print and online zines and stcikers and patches that say TrannyPunk for over a decade. Depends on who says it, and how.

Killing queers might be imaginary anyways.Tthe motivating forces for hate fear of queers is really complexly inexplicable. I remember little femmy boy me at age 20. First time I worked building maintenance. Neighbours called me fag-which, somebuddy spread some bullshit that they were worried about me touching children. Fuck you. Those children broke all the lights out on my old station wagon, threw rocks at me.

Ever been surrounded by 10 children throwing dirt at you and screaming
"WE'RE NOT AFRAID OF YOU FAGGOT WITCH !!!" ? Cuz I done that so many times it ain't no thang.

Actually know what ? I'm working on my shit were I call people fag for calling me a fag. There was s'posed to be a theory about that which goes something like "if you cant ignore them away, and trying to explain that I'm not really a fag, I'm more like a queer woman who's only partially male kind of, and I like fags, at least the fags I'm friends with" that doesn't really work in practice in the field. Calling someone a fag for calling me a fag kind of works cuz they just called me fag or something close, so why cant I be a loud dumb idiot too? "Fag" obviously is something very horrible and ugly and scary to these people so calling them fags gives them their own shit right back. Especially having a "fag" call them a "fag". If that's not blowing out a few of their neurons then at least its something to think about.after the incident  I was at the hardware store with my little punk ass family picking up a load of wood. After a month I was trying to help work but I was still half blind and sore I looked like shit and was practically half dressed with my shirt buttoned wrong and no socks. I was in bad shape and some dudes in the parking lot start laughing at me a yelling, "What the fuck are you ?? are you wearing a fucking bra??".

"Fuck you! You have a 40 bottle up your ass you jerk off, bitch! "says I.

They kinda shuffled about a bit looking confused "hey what you say?" says the twice my size guy.
"I said I know you guys, you always at the gas station dumpster. i hear you suck dick for $10 !!"
"Hey, watch your mouth! Don't be starting shit" says dude.


  Bewildering and antagonising assholes, screaming the same shit they scream at me back at them was terribly fun.

The next time somebuddy called me a "WTF is this fag shit" when I was in a shore side parking lot in just cut offs and a bikini top.

 I chased that guy a block down the street screaming "yeh man, you the fag shit !! you the faggiest shit in shit town"

He was seriously screaming and running away from me. My face was still fucked up and my left eye rolled back so I looked like a crazy fuckin mess. I  called the guy "the fag shit" and I'm sorry, it just all happened so fast he kind of started it, and I was really really happy to be chasing a fagophobe down the street as he screamed and ran away. I know I'm bad and wrong for this behavior. Maybe I could do a lot of gay dishes or something. I was dishwasher in a gay village delicatessen once a few years ago. I know the ropes.


Its 6 am. I typed this for 8 hours trying to buy enuff coffee to not get kicked out of the all night diner.

 Getting my skull broken was easy. I don't remember shit except some haze of pipe man. just like getting hit by a car or slicing yourself across the hand with a box knife, if its bad enuff it dont hurt. At least not for the first few minutes or even hours.And If your lucky enough to get really fucked up you might over load on pain so much that it looses its meaning. Kind of like when you drink a whole bottle of choklit syroppe and it stops tasting like anything but sugar after you drank down a pint. Going in to shock is your friend who cares about you so much it hurts.

that might actually exist maybe

tr!nnypunk 009~ The story of running away from home cuz my misstress talked me in to it and then I slowly go insane and my misstress dumps me and I go to lots of shitty psychologists for poor people. Watch as I actually get declared brain damaged in the frontal lobe and thats about all the doctors do for me over dozens of hours in their waiting rooms
spoiler: - cheap-free psychological councilling is imaginary.

tr!nnypunk 007~ I hate dating and crushing on other tr!ns people. Because tr!nnys are usually kinda crazy and damaged. Oh I like sleeping with them, and also forming close tight very loving family unit affinity groups were we peer support. I love all that shit. Every time I crush on a tr!nny I wind up with a broken heart, an existential crisis about my own identity, or lying on the floor of a solitary confinemnet cell with a bloody face and my back all fucked up.

Visit my shitty unfinished web zine ~ !!
Hundreds of broken links and non existent jpgs but its gets 2 or 3 hits a day for the last 4 years running !!!
Plus I wrote an article about the mythical $1800 vaginoplasty.
somewhere near that is an article about how to save up a few thousand for your stupid surgery fund when your homeless unemployed and crazy.
And there's cartoons too!

Trannypunk is mailed out randomly to zine distros and left in spots were tr*nnys and queers might find it.

Zine is free. But tipping is encouraged.

Anticopywrite 2012 : reproduce in whole or part as much as you fucking can
writing a zine in 8 hours non stop is fun. Spending 10 hours fixing your spelling and lay out is not quite as fun.!!