Mark Allen Cam's: EAT YOUR MAIL!!! EAT IT!!!
hand model: Domenic Subject: SM
Date: Mon, 25 Feb 2002 03:21:11
From: Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Would it kill you answering just one of my mails? FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!
I bet your FUCKING EGO must be HUGE inversely proportional to your dick size! espèce de sale enculé de fils de pute de ta race de sale pédé !!!!!!! gros connard doublé d'un batard d'enfoiré de #@*$=%!!! I am sure that you don't do anything during daytime, your life is just senseless just like mine.
It's a shame that your testicule cancer didn't kill you because there are people much more worth-living than you who didn't get that chance. I think that you risk more to have cancer from an organ that you use a lot so don't worry about brain cancer but if I were you I will go to the proctologist to have my ass check. VA TE FAIRE ENCULER PUISQUE TU AIMES CA !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Subject: [Re: SM]
Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2002
15:47:00 -0800
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: Chief
Inspector Jacques Clouseau
.
Later!
Mark
______________________________________________________________________
Subject: Cyber Crush EssaySubject: [Re: Cyber Crush Essay]
Date: Fri, 08 Mar 2002 21:35:11
From: Lupa
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Mark:
I was wanting to let you know how interesting and informative I found your essay on cyber crushes to be.
One thing I learned from your essay is that if I ever look in a dictionary to find the definition of "pathetic loser" your picture will be next to it.
Have fun,
Paul
Date: Sun, 10 Mar 2002 15:47:00 -0800
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: Lupa
Well I call your bluff Mr. Liar! I just looked it up in Merriam Webster's Online Dictionary and... oh my God! You're right!
Later!
Mark
______________________________________________________________________
Subject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: December 31, 2001 03:07 PM
From: GregoryNYC <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Shit...Guillaume's here?? Thanks for telling me. I see....
I think your radio show should consist of you putting the microphone to your ass as you get slurpily power fucked by his huge, thick cock. You can use canned cake frosting as lube for a flavorful treat as you suck him dry afterwords. Then you can do one of your "art" interpretive guitar pieces - bringing in the new year with a song in French - sung entirely with a mouthful of frosting and his unswallowed cum.. Next you have to expel the mixture from your mouth into a hollow cream puff shell and then you both can romantically share it (with espresso on the side) in a internet/radio show "NEW YEAR'S" toast to health, happiness, and prosperity!!!
Subject: 12/31/01
Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: December 31, 2001
05:06 PM
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: "GregoryNYC" <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com>
Gee thanks Greg. Ahhhh... yes. Now we see why he never called you. You're so much fun to be around Gregory! Is the heat on in your building yet? Do you need to borrow some more Propecia? How's your "ink jet cleaner" supply doing? Got fooled by yet ANOTHER phony on M4M4sex? Enema bag break? That 50 year old janitor from the Tuesday 6am-12noon shift on Tuesday morning at Jay's that you have a crush on still didn't call? Still can't shake Alex? Did that monster dildo you bought at Toys In Babeland break AGAIN and the metal rod is poking out because you were pounding up and down on it so hard? Your modeling career still in a slump? Well... have fun tonight at Exit! Be sure to bring enough coke for yourself! I used to go to nightclubs on New Year's Eve when I was in high school, it was so great. I'm sure you'll love the wall-to-wall tourists, horrible, bacteria-ridden fetid air, nightmarish frustration, regret and leather-faced coke-addict nobodies trying to score heroin in the leaky, urine, vomit, blood and feces flooded bathroom. The dim lighting is fabulous! Oh wait or am I talking about your gym? Oh yes... also be sure and enjoy the repetative house music blaring over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over!!! I'm sure you'll come home depressed and regretful that you spent $100 + to get in. But that didn't stop you the last billion times did it? Me and Guillaume will go to the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia wihout you, it looks like tonight you'll see horrors ten times as awful (and about one tenth as interesting). We can both joke about it on the phone tomorrow morning like we have all those many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, times before. Repitition is so predictable, no?
Later!
Mark
ps. Oh and have fun coming home when the sun is out! The mood it puts you in will be the rancid cherry on top of the shit sundae that is your life... oops, I mean NIGHT!
Happy New Year Gregory... my best friend!
Subject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM ESTSubject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: December 31, 2001 06:07 PM
From: GregoryNYC <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Our friendship in now over.
And yes, the PORTER, not JANITOR, DID finally call.
....and..i didn't pay $100 for a ticket...and...cocaine in no different than coffee - except without the stains on your teeth!
Use the time away from me to work on your anger. It's not healthy. Perhaps a group counseling session with all the board members - run, of course, by FelixTheCat. Maybe a bus trip/therapy session with EVERYONE to "the Edge of the center of the left side that protrudes out from the corner of Anywhere!" Dietdew will be the bus driver!!!!
Date: January 01, 2002 08:13 PM
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: "GregoryNYC" <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com>
Friendship over? Oh no babycakes it's just getting started. I'm not going to anger management classes either you lopsided, moldy tampon! I'd rather go to Riker's Island's death row ...that is after they arrest me for sneaking into your apartment well after your 5am bedtime, pummeling your silicone, botox-filled face to a Jocelyn Wildenstien-like persona (how hard will that be?), then cutting off all your limbs and then using your torso to squeeze your guts out of your dead asshole like a fucking tube of paint as I spray the walls of your pretentious apartment with your sad, pathetic blood and guts and simultaneously feed a 12" bone meal to your severed throat with my rock hard horse cock, which is what I'll have since this is what I've wanted to do to you ever since we met 8 years ago; your violent, artistic and stylized death at my brilliant hands. Your end. It'll be fucking art. Hardcore fucking art. When I'm done with that and have shot my gallon load into your sad carcass, I'll rip your torso in half like a circus strong man rips a phone book in half at a freakshow. Your guts flinging across all corners of you mock Meees Vanne Dehr Ro-oh chairs, retro 70's lamps and Italian Vogue magazines that's you'll never be on the pages of. Wanna be on the cover of Wallpaper Ragazine? Fine, I'll rip your face off your skull and paste it to the front of the cover with my jism, and make your skin-less, bloody, de-socketed, lidless, quivering-in-terror-and-pain eyeballs watch me do it before I rip them out and feed them to your cats. It'll be fucking bliss. The heavens will part and the angels will spew forth thankful nirvana gratitude as the sun shines down on me smashing your begging, pleading-for-mercy head open like a rotten pumpkin with your $10,000 perfume collection. I think I'll bring a CD of Smokey Robinson's "Tears Of a Clown" to blare full blast from you $19.99 14th-Street-bought CD jukebox as I rip your limbs off one by one by one and you scream and plead for me to spare your life until your last dying breath. INCREDIBLE!!!
Are you listening to me granola bar face? Hey revolving door at the sex-addict 12 step center ass, you listening? You paying attention? Are you in a ink jet cleaner coma?
Oh but wait, that's too good
for you, you over-priced doormat, you oblivious slime-tit. I think instead
I'll string you along for a Hell-ish eternity. Hope you bought your ticket
for the fucking merry-go-round. Remember all rides at this carnival go
in a loop! I'm just getting started. How will I start? Here's a small sample:
I'll sneak into your apartment via your fire escape in the middle of the
night to say high, I'll divide your friends and laugh while I'm doing it,
then you'll get blamed, I'll leave things of mine at your apartment and
then call you the next day to get them just so I can get to you, I'll go
downstairs to get your friends a can of Diet Coke and instead buy them
a bottle of regular Pepsi just to say "fuck you" in an indefinable way,
me guilty? Never! I'll get arrested, I'll pass counterfeit money, I'll
sleep in trash bins but work doors at model parties, I'll do spontaneous
runway shows at Chelsea bars with people's borrowed $20,000 D&G leather
coats and then walk out of the bar and hail a taxi as part of the performance
to uproars of applause from the patrons (then I'll get in the cab, leave
and never come back), I'll get arrested again and again and again and always
get out of it by calling you for help and manipulating you because you're
so easy, I'll get blackballed from every club in town but will still weasel
my way in because I know you, I will use your name like a battering ram,
I'll sleep in homeless shelters in the latest fashionista A-list garments
and inhabit jail cells in one-of-a-kind Imitation Of Christ outfits, I'll
shit all over myself at 7am at Sound Factory and then rub it all over everyone
on the dance floor while screaming for help like Carrie in a drama-queen-to-the-power-of-1,000,000,000
because of too many drugs, get kicked out forever, sue the owners, be laughed
at by everyone for years because of it, then tell everyone I am YOUR BEST
FRIEND, I'll wave to you in the streets from limos paid for by rich German
men that are just one of a long line of rich gay men that I have tricked
into my weird world and you will wave back in helpless pity, I will trick
european tourists out of money at the Monster by promising to go across
the street to Stonewall and buy them coke, then I'll spend the money for
myself as I lure another freaky chink John to the West Side Club for a
night of poppers, blow jobs and wallet stealing, then I'll weasel my way
back into ALL THREE establishments again and again by using YOUR NAME again
and again and again, I'll have a police record but be treated like pure
white gold at Kate Moss' birthday party and be asked to be photographed
by Christopher Makos over you because you couldn't make it because you're
at the pig house answering questions about how you could possibly know
me and are you an accomplice. Remeber the time the pigs showed up at CK's
loft to arrest me and I prevented him from talking you up? It was my night,
my light, once again Gregory. I'll weasel my way onto J.P.G. runway shows
and model the best clothes and steal the show while the photographer's
flashes explode and laugh, LAUGH at you as you watch from the sidelines
because you, only you know how evil I can be and that I never ever get
caught and I will always win, I'll be hated all over this metropolis, 86'd
from every realm of this great city and all it's highest, most fabulous
highs and heights, yet I will still get my way because you don't have the
guts to tell me no. Dance Gregory, dance. Faster! Faster! Tell everyone
in hushed tones that you are MY BEST FRIEND while they look on in pity
at you, YOU the overpriced DOORMAT. I'll ruin you in the most unimaginable
and profound ways possible, ways that only God and Satan and Buddha and
Allah combine know. I am a superpower, I am death. You will not be able
to get rid of me because of my millions of tentacles that are locked deep
inside your subconscious, I'll come to where you work and have you
trapped behind the bar while I talk you up and down up and down up and
down, love you hate you love you hate you, ignore you not ignore you ignore
you not ignore you over and over and over like a grating house music remix,
then, while you watch helpless from behind the bar, I'll steal from the
coat check tip jar and start endless fights with everyone there and then
drink for free since the manager feels sorry for me and then fuck the owner
of the place on the bar as you wipe the floor below us at 5am, I'll laugh
at you while I do this Gregory, I am superior to you and I always get my
way, you know this. I'll call you and tell you in an overzealous fashion
that we are no longer friends because I hate you, then I'll call back the
next day crying and apologizing, hate you love you hate you love you back
and forth and back and forth watch the gold Tiffany's watch on the chain
sway (that I mopped) Gregory, hypnotize, hypnotize, hypnotize Gregory.
Dance for me. I'll work as a perfume sprayer at Bloomingdales and scam
the manager out of 6 months advance pay and then vanish and get a job at
the very same place a year later by using YOUR NAME. I'll scam old men
in Harlem to let me stay with them and then stay long enough to take them
to housing court when they try to kick me out for running a meth lab and
Gucci handbag knock-off sweatshop in their living room, and all the while
EVERYONE will know me as YOUR BEST FRIEND, I'll do too many cycles of steroids
so I can look good at a circuit party and then call you in the middle of
the night, fevered, vomiting and freaked out and NEEDING NEEDING NEEDING
your help and attention while I KNEAD KNEAD KNEAD your self respect into
a flat, thin layer of cookie dough and then carve out little cookie shapes
from it, bake them with a crack pipe and devour them at will. Were they
delicious? They were OK. On to the next paradise to you. I'll string you
along with endless drama and a whirlpool of mind tripping, manipulative,
weird favors and be the embarrassment of New York City and people will
still know me as YOUR BEST FRIEND because you are to wimpy to do the thing
you know you have to make me hate you: make me truly hate you and believe
that any energy I put towards you will only contribute to your bad energy.
You will not have the energy to do this or the brains to figure it out.
I've got my giant, dripping womb open, warm and pulsating for you to step
into Gregory, it's waiting for you my love, I have a sewing needle in one
hand and a surgical thread in the other, a Gucci floor length jacket on
and leather pants, devil horns and Italian shoes that are all stolen. I'm
as tall as the World Trade Center Towers. Come to me Gregory, come inside
Mommy's giant womb and live forever, I need you for my power, Mommy's womb
NEEDS you KNEADS you, come to the womb... come to Mommy. Come to Mommy
Gregory. Come to sweet, loving, needy Mommy. Come to Mommy. Suckle my Hermes-swathed,
nigger tit.
Subject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM ESTSubject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: January 02, 2002 03:36 AM
From: GregoryNYC <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>We are lucky that the friction caused by the Frenchman's cock against the boil and gas-ridden combustionable interior of MarkAllenCam.com's anal wall did not ignite the rancid and lethal gas that makes its home there. You see - this - along with the putrified mass of vegetables... lube.... anally inserted crystal methadone...Tupperware...undigested doses of prozac and ridilin... valvoline oil (more bang for your buck and cheaper in the long run than Eros lube - perfect for cheap-o's)....toxic, uncleaned and intestinally clog causing feces (due to lack of anal hygene)...HIGHLY FLAMMABLE dried Crazy Glue used to hold the loose, torn anus together between bowel movements to prevent leakage...HIGHLY FLAMMABLE paint used as cover-up to try to hide the external sores in the anal region (theatrical make-up doesn't do the trick)...HIGHLY FLAMMABLE Sambuca liqueur used as a numbing ointment for anything over 9 inches.....not to mention fermentation caused by compost pile-like yeast infections in the lower digestive tract caused by MA's cheap-o system of only defacating every other day to save on the cost of toilet paper...stored, toxic emotional issues....pork chop bones...MSG from cheap shitty chinese food...cologne bottles (still filled with flammable designer fragrance) that he stole from ME...mounds of hazardous amyl nitrate tinged semen...(PLEASE>>>>"The Jar" had nothing on what's been brewing all up in that septic tank hole of his) - this could have all ingited in an anal explosion of UNSPEAKABLE MAGNITUDE. Guillaume needs to be thankful that his life was spared the other night...
Yes....Mark Allen not only risks his own life, but the innocent lives of MANY others, everytime he engages himself sexually. As well as being a disease sprinkler, he lies and manipulates those who decide to take a ride over his anal bridge of sorrow...all this for his own selfish pleasure. COMPLETE AND UTTER DISREGARD FOR OTHERS. Lurking behind MAC.com's vaseline smudged and perfectly lit exterior lies a beast. Unleashed on the lower east side in NYC, this monster is bad enough...but left to roam the USA on a "road trip" we are talking potential DESTRUCTION AND DISINTEGRATION OF HUMAN LIVES AS WELL AS HUMAN SPIRIT.
Mark Allen: RECTAL TYPHOID MARY OF THE NEW MILLENIUM. BEWARE. BE SCARED. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY: IF YOU SMELL SMOKE WHILE MERCELESSLY ROBBING HIS MANHOOD ANALLY, STOP IMMEDIATELY AND CALL FIRE DEPT!!!
Date: January 02, 2002 08:09 PM
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: "GregoryNYC" <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com>
Gregory, my coming response with be the polar opposite, the photographic negative of The Rapture. The four horsemen will ride backwards and upside down. The horn will be a Jew's Harp instead. The evildoers will be lifted into God's arms for an eternity of bliss and God's chosen will wander the earth in disease, famine and death. The dead will rise and walk on the ceiling. It will be the opposite of everything good and pure, everything that should be. It will be black sunshine. It will be AIDS times 1,000,000,000. It will be rape times 1,000,000,000,000. It will be Sartre's "No Exit" times infinity. It will be a million unexamined lifetimes inside the pain amplifier from "Dune". It will make "Mein Kampf" look like Charles Schultz. It will be the biggest dick you wish you never had. It will be an enormous avalanche of feces so rancid, so putrid, so vile... the collected feces of a thousand diseased lives... a river of steaming shit the size of 10 million universe and their parallels. It will rain down on YOU and YOU only - the source and eventual home of all evil... you. And I will make that river of a thousand diseased lives worth of feces flow THROUGH you Gregory, chunk by chunk, ounce by ounce, bit by bit... as I make you eat every single drop with the silver, jewel encrusted coke spoon that you keep chained to your soul.
Don't prick your thumb...
Subject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM ESTSubject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: January 03, 2002 07:37 PM
From: GregoryNYC <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Impressive. And as for MY response, Mark, I'll just stick to the basics:
*picture*
Bon Appetit!
Date: January 06, 2002 02:58 PM
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: "GregoryNYC" <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com>
Gregory you have rendered me speachless and cancelled the ant-reverse-Rapture. Although I think you cheated by not using words, the effect was grand nevertheless. You win... this round.
Later!
Mark
ps. Want to rent some movies tonight?
Subject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM ESTSubject: 12/31/01 Mark's New Year's Eve radio show with Guillaume, 7-9PM EST
Date: January 06, 2002 07:58 PM
From: GregoryNYC <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Yes. I'm vocalizing now. Come over at 11?
Date: January 06, 2002 08:32 PM
From: Mark Allen <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>
To: "GregoryNYC" <gregoryvincent@mindspring.com>
OK great see you then. Let's order food when I get there.
Later!
Mark
Dear Johnny,
______________________________________________________________________Subject: a message
Date: Sun, 21 Oct 2001 17:14:58 -0400
From: Johnny Feelings
To: "Mark Allen" <Logan5@ix.netcom.com>Some words for thought MarkAllen,
I hope and pray that people like you go away. I hope you do not think that you can do some childish parody of the September 11 events on your webpage. This is not a time for your irreverent and cruel take on things. You can't make fun of this. In a sense your webpage is over now. How can you talk about people's remains being in the ashes of the WTC rubble, "snowing" down on people. What an ass you are Mark. There are many children that do not have mommies and daddies anymore to come home because of this tragedy to our country. Not to mention the very heroic efforts of the brave men of the fire fighting teams from all over this great country. MarkAllen. Are you one of them? If you hold one of your dumass comments about the events up to the souls of the brave firemen and policemen which light will shine brightest? I hope Mayor Guliani wipes sarcastic artists like you out of New York and the world for good. No more snotnosed sarcasm and ironic oh so intellectual comments are needed here anymore-Goodbye! In a sense your webpage is over now. Your kind are no longer needed in The United States of America. "ART??" Don't ask normal good people to pay for your "ART" Mr. Allen. LONG LIVE THE NEW PATRIOTISM! God bless America! Wise up Mr.Allen.
Sincerely,
Johnny Feelings
Did you know there is an almost identical letter to yours in the volume 8, number 8 issue of Vice magazine?
Later!
Mark
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