Paul Modic’s zine Gulch Mulch – Whale Gulch was Mendocino County-based. The website was lost 2018, recovered and archived by HAPA in 2020.

On Montezuma’s Revenge

sitting on the john i feel compelled
to outline the course of events
that lead me to this constant posture:
first i ate the tortilla with the hair on it
then i ate the hot sauce with the fly in it
then the beans with the world in it
and the tiny microbes i never saw
that were probably the culprits after all
those sneaky little things
oh you fuckin’ Spaniards
look what you did to Moctezuma
and now look what he’s doing to me
Spain the walls you built are crumbling
and i am going down with them

oh the Aztecs were astronomers
the Spanish walked all over them
the slave indians joined Cortez
tired of building pyramids
they watched scholars vanish
watched the buildings tumble
tired of carrying those stones
they helped Cortez rumble it
they watched the Aztecs vanish
tired of working for them
helped Cortez to humble them
then no one saw the stars again
no one saved the medicine man
tired of building pyramids
some say the other indians
helped that white man crush their kin
Cortez walked in and that was the end

the Mexico I see right now
is free for all the rightest sin
with death and jail for leftist kin
mountains and deserts here
catch the summer rains for sure
grow the corn for all these bones
ride the donkey, ride the bike
take a jump into the lake
glistening blur amazing sight
a giant lake in a desert land
wet blue crystal, beachy sand
the Mexico I see right now
has a church atop it all
you have a chance if you don’t talk
or be crushed and forced to walk
straight to jail you pay the price
free to eat your Spanish rice
just be quiet about what you see
unless you’re coming from the right
you’ll be grabbed on a summer’s night
for playing the flute for all’s delight
you know there ain’t enough players
so there’s no left fielder here
you’re out if you hit it there
the umpire sends you right to jail
with no trial, hope, or chants of bail

hup toop tree four
send your baby to the door
line up slowly don’t adore
the feeling in your heart
its illegal if you move
through the darkness very smooth
the pawns the puppets glad to serve
notices of darkness, not another word
we heard you talking in the day
telling the people to go your way
yer dangerous you bloody fool
you can’t be the commie’s tool
hope you learned your lesson
in our cold jail school
what’s that knocking on the door
who’s that coming down the walk
we heard you talking in the plaza
we heard you telling all the people
we didn’t like the sound
of what you said
you’re only in jail—you’ve still your head
you better shut up or you’ll be dead
we heard you talking in the square
you better shut up we said before
or we’ll take you back there again
shut up, there are no rights for
leftists here

you’re a bell ringer
you’re a goat dinner
you’re Mexico
a million TV antennas
you’re Mexico
a thousand right wing winners
you’re Mexico
a smiling nina sinner
yer Mexico!
A new years eve singer
yer Mexico
a turkey on the bus now
yer Mexico
a white cloud on the horizon
yer Mexico
two hundred unrepentant bus drivers
yer Mexico
need I say it again?
yer Mexico
five hundred bells are ringing
yer Mexico
the tables turned on justice
yer Mexico
a craven saint upon us

one day Cortez said to Moctezuma
hey Monty man, why don’t you
try some of this
and Moctezuma didn’t know
what Cortez had was some Peru snow
here old man, c’mon have a blow
just call me uncle Corty, Joe…
stand up on the pyramid
here comes the great white wonder
well, Moctezuma never saw
it snow in Mexico till
old Cortez came along
hey Monty man, come try this shit
and Monty man he took a sniff
and saw it snow in Mexico
that was the last thing he did
Cortez rolled him like a drunk at dawn
Monty’s mind just a snowy song


some of my friends say i’m like

a freaky old scanner, lying in the closet

waiting for the wrong person to come along

and recycle me…

would they throw me away?

sell me on ebay

but who wants a freaky old scanner?

spring cleaning, get rid of the old memories

she’s gone…he’s gone

all thats left are

you me and auntie joy

and she ain’t coming back



tanya is a woman
a lithesome lass
her smile radiates
her body attracts
her mind is everywhere…
she is a wonder to be held
her skin soft beneath lips
her neck kissable and
leading down to her
breasts, dancing nipples
seeking mouth, lips,
the kissable tanya,
her belly enjoying attention
she likes a tongue between her legs
a head she can hold there…
tanya is a woman