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Walter Joseph “Wally” Jaczkowski was born in 1982 in Detroit, MI.  He went to school, and then to college.  He plays in bands and  likes to paint.  He makes Polish food and eats it.  He designs graphics and webs for a living.  He also works in  a bar.  He is also a freelance window cleaner.  He is in love with a woman from Manhattan by way of Connecticut.  He smokes too many cigarettes.  He is generally quite content with his life.

Also, he really like cheeseburgers.

The following profiles were written by the contributors themselves:

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Bo Betzler:

I sent Wally some of my poems I wrote a while back. Of course he liked them and asked me to be a weekly contributor to his website. Being poor I agreed to write for him and in return he promised me a ride on his magic unicorn. Once I agreed, Wally asked me to write a little bio about myself. Well, what can I say? What can one write about themselves? I procrastinated, ate 5 large pizzas, overslept and missed my deadline. So here it is…

I was born during a thunderstorm on a hot July night in 1980 in a hospital. The birthing process was nothing special, it was a regular vaginal delivery. I did not pop through my mothers belly like an alien, but it was memorable, and I remember that day well. It was the first and last time I felt any emotion besides hate and it was the last time I cried. I attended a Catholic school and became Jewish. College has been a life long experiment for me. One day I will graduate. I am unemployed and can eat an amazing amount of food or not eat for days. I hate your local band, walks on the beach, hot dogs, holding hands, tomatoes and ice cream cones. If I met you I’d probably want to punch you in the face. I have three cats. Oh, I also hate proper grammar. I’m not doing well, I’m doing good.

wally jaczkowski, lovebotsmash, detroit art, detroit music, detroit blog
Nick Heydel:

No one knows when or even if I was actually born. I was found as an infant by the shadow warriors of the Shakaab near the Fire Valleys of Thundrakk. By the age of 4 I was proficient in all six Shaka-do shadow styles and was already deadly with the Shakaadi battle axe. I was twelve when the troubles with the Dadji began. By age thirteen I had gained status among my people through valor in battle against the Dadji dragon soldiers. Then the Massacre at Thundraga happened. I managed to escape with two comrades but they later died of their wounds. On that day I swore that I would one day have my revenge on the Dadji. I spent the next five years traveling alone and honing my skills. I tended to stay out of the cities, preferring the solitude of the bush. One time in Montana I had to kill a mother grizzly armed with nothing more than a small piece of birch bark. I was badly wounded but I’ve always been a fast healer and the bear’s flesh along with the cubs’ blood was just the nourishment I’d been craving. I finally found myself near Detroit when I met an ogre named Todd. He had learned to blend in with society by learning the ways of the skinhead. We quickly became friends and moved into a house in Shelby which we dubbed ‘Hooligan House’. We frequently had bands play in our basement and Wally would come over and we would drink and it was good. I spent about the next four years drinking alcohol and breaking shit.

Then one day I was visited in a dream by the Shakaabi elders. They reminded me of my pledge to avenge my people. I awoke the next morning and meditated on this for most of that day. The Dadji scum had since scattered themselves across the country. I hadn’t run into more than an unfortunate few during my years in the bush so I knew they had become city and town dwellers. I had no good way of surviving during city travel without calling attention to myself so I decided to become a truck driver. It turns out that a surprising amount of Dadji shitfucks have also become drivers. It suits their lifestyle of eating shitty food and not showering. So ever since then I have done nothing but drive and kill. I slaughter them like animals in the name of the Shakaab without remorse. I have more remorse when I throw a knife through the skull of a hare while it is in mid sprint at fifty yards. I will not rest until the last Dadji is kneeling at my feet in a futile attempt to beg for his life. This is my mission. This is what my life has become.

Copyright 2010 by LOVEBOT SMASH! ++*+ Design by SHERWOOD+BLACK, DETROIT.
Copyright 2010 by LOVEBOT SMASH! ++*+ Design by SHERWOOD+BLACK, DETROIT.