Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
MOM
(1919-1993)
"Had a wonderful vacation in Roxbury at the school house.
David loved to swim in a stream by a huge rock.
Each p.m. the cows would come down for a drink."
(Baby Days, Vacations 1960 Nellie Wyder)
Dont wanna sleep,
Dont wanna die,
Just wanna go a-travelin through the pasture of the sky
Chapter One: Gatesway CEO Has Sex With Cow
Chapter Two: Bossy Tweed Wins Election
Chapter Three: Cows Face Extinction
Chapter Four: The Cowmercial Issue
Chapter Five: Escape From Feedlot No. 9
Chapter Six: Cowleones Cherry Busted
Chapter Seven: Remember The Alamoo
Chapter Eight: Miss Piggy Murdered
Chapter Nine: Cowpone Assassinated
Chapter Ten: Golf Crisis Looms
Chapter Eleven: Make Love Not Milk
Chapter Twelve: War On Bugs
Chapter Thirteen: The Cowstock Festival
Chapter Fourteen: Milk Strike Hits U.S.
GATESWAY CEO HAS
SEX WITH COW!
NORTH SIOUX CITY, SD-The serenity of the bovine world was shattered today
when local sheriffs officers arrested Bob Apple, the CEO of Gatesway
Computers, and charged him with sexually abusing a calf. The robust
manufacturing cowpany known for shipping their computers in boxes with a
Holstein motif had sales of over $7.7 billion last year. Local Persecutor Ludvik
Ramrod charged Mr. Apple with 13 counts of bestiality. If convicted the computer
moogul could face twenty years in prison. As cows in this small state choked on
their cud at the horrifying news, word up in the field is that more indictments of
digital dickheads doing cows is forthcoming.
The latest sex scandal to rock the US erupted when a young and portly Holstein
fashion model by the name of Ariola Bakery spilled the beans of her six month
affair with Apple to Daily Cow via email. She wrote that she was kept in a barn at
Gatesway headquarters where during the day artists would make paintings of her
markings to design their shipping boxes. At night Apple would come visit and
have sex with her. "He had this groovy-smelling long pipe that he seduced me
with. Our sex took place nearly every night but I soon grew tired of his ravenous
sexual appetite. He threatened to send me to hamburger heaven if I did not give
in to his sexual advances."
The straw that broke her back happened last week when Apple invited other
digital kingpins to bang his bovine. They were introduced to her as "The Farmer
In The Dell" and "Goofy Guy with Glasses." All three spent the night ejaculating
on her favorite muu muus which have since been turned over to local
persecutors for DNA testing. Also, unbeknownst to the billionaire bovine
bangers, a friend of Bakery's installed a video camera in the barn a few days
earlier and a record now exists of these crapitalists having their way with the
nubile calf. After that nights debauchery, Ariola finally broke free from her stall
and enlisted the aid of local animal activists who spirited her away to Dr. Jack
Off's Hoe Barn in Michigan.
Reaction from the bovine cowmunity has been muted but current leader Bossy
Tweed did release a statement while barnstorming Iraq in search of the perfect
veil. "These three wise ass men worth billions are nothing more than
sanctimonious scumbags. Cows be on the alert! We are now surrounded by
digital degenerates who have created a manipulative, ad-driven culture whose
main product is misinformation. Their ejaculate contains a steady stream of
distortions, exaggerations and lies. Our moos for virtue, morality and truth ring
hollow in their world of profit and legal fraud. Do not look for redress from their
justice system. I implore all farm animals to run for the hills and wear chastity
belts!
Their government spends billions protecting its citizens from Middle East
terrorism but does little to protect it from these bogus bulls running wild on Wall
Street and in our barns. Big business cowglomerates and government
cheeseheads are in cowhoots with one another and bestiality is their latest dark
and dirty secret. These butchers of information with their oversized brains and
puny peckers must be stopped! To this end I have assigned special agents from
our Cow Underground Nerve Tactical Squad (CUNTS) to target these bovine
boffers and bomb them with treated manure gas which will render them impotent
forever!"
(continued back cover)
COWTENTS
Page 1 Cover Story
Page 2, 4 Just Say Cheese
Page 3, 5 Cow News
Page 6 Celebrity Cowpies
Page 7 Cowmentary
Page 8 Pinup
Page 9 DC Interview
Page 10 John Burroughs
Page 11, 12 Cow Sex Tales
Page 13 Cow Physics
Page 14 When Cows Fly
Page 15 Butcher Stew
Page 16, 17 Cowmics
Page 18, 19 Vampire Cow
Page 20 Cowetry
Page 21 DC Stamps
Page 22 Kale
Page 23 Alfalfa
Page 24 Feedback
Page 25 Happy Birthday
Page 26 Cowmercials
Page 27 Dummy Cow
Page 28 The End Plop
COMING SOON
The Dead End Cows
WINTER GRAZE UPDATE
Avoid cliches like the plague. When
you come down to it all you have is
yourself. The sun is a thousand rays
upon your udder. Watch out for
sexual predators.
The 10 Year Anniversary Issue of
Daily Cow (1988-1998)
Its a sad day for American Capitalism when a CEO cant sodomize a cow
in the morning and fly a kite over Central Park in the afternoon.
(Bob Apple after being arrested)
OK, so it not a bull but a Holstein named Ariola. She accompanied
Gatesway CEO Bob Apple to the New York Stock Exchange when the
company made its Big Board debut. The direct marketer of personal
computers, which uses a cow figure on its boxes, said it had toyed with
the idea of having MOO as its stock symbol but settled for GTW
instead. (09/09/08)
LIBRARY BANS COWS
Passaic, NJ-The Orange Julius Frostman Library on
Gregory Avenue has had it with cows. Since
September a herd of rowdy bovines has taken over the
library creating havoc for the staff and their
customers.
According to Head Custodian Robert Holstein, cows
have eaten up all the grass and shrubbery outside.
They also drop massive cowpies on the sidewalk and
three patrons were recently injured when they slipped
and fell into the manure. Once inside, the bulky
bovines knock over the chairs, tables and displays and
have even been caught in the restroom having sex with
each other. Milk stains are all over the carpet. They
constantly moo so loud that shushing bookworms
cannot cowncentrate on their reading. Many of the
cows have even charged the library staff when told to
pay fines for overdue books and viciously slapped
them in the mouth with their tails.
Head Librarian Rhoda Dick is outraged. "These
salacious, stupid, and smelly animals can't read. All
they do is look at the pictures and moo. Libraries
should be for people not animals, but in Passaic it's
getting hard to tell the difference! One Indian patron
told me that these grounds belong to the cows and that
in his country they are allowed everywhere. I bitch
slapped him upside the head and told him that he was
in America now and these cows belong in McDonald's
not the Public Library!"
We contacted City Hysteerian Mork Acerbate to give
us the lowdown and he thanked us for waking him up
because he did not have an alarm clock: "Did you
know that Hitler was a vegetarian? We must kill these
cows immediately. What if they spread mad cow
disease to Agendaville's citizens? My research on this
subject has shown that the library grounds use to be an
ancient stud barn for a breed of bovines known as
Shirelles. However, they sold this land in 1909 to OJ
Frostman and legally have no claim to the land."
In recent days Passaic Police Chief Rusty Zipper has
beefed up security at the Library and vows that any
cow found within 100 feet of the building will be
arrested for trespassing. "Here in Agendaville we don't
have to be prodded to deal with our cattle problems.
These arrogant and bossy cows will be driven from the
library pronto."
As usual the blame for the cow flap fell at the fungus
feet of DAILY COW publisher David Mooey. Since
mooving in July from 121 Gregory Avenue (just down
the street from the Public Library) to 87 Richard
Street (the udder side of town), cows have no place to
hang out. His vast cowlection of books and cow
archives are currently in a storage bin on River Drive
making them inaccessible to the bovine population.
When pressed for a statement the Ritalin-popping
Mooey said, "When the hallowed corridors of a
library are heavy with the scent of cow, it is the end of
living and the beginning of survival. We will reclaim
our sacred breeding ground."
TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN COW
Atlantic City, NJ-A monument honoring cows was
unveiled yesterday adjacent to the Taj Mahal Casino.
The Tomb of the Unknown Cow honors the millions
of working cows in America who have been
slaughtered and milked to feed this wonderful
consumption-driven nation in the past century. The
garish structure, in the shape of a classic cow, stands
on a solid gold pedestal, painted in a black & white
motif, spans a city block and stands three stories high.
Designed by world renowned architect Ophelia Crack,
it is estimated to have cost over 20 million dollars to
construct.
The 1st floor is a museum dedicated to a nation of
unknown and dead cows. Visitors enter through an
area marked "use udder door" and are given a one
hour tour entitled "The Wonderful World of Bovines."
Highlights include exhibits devoted to Clarabella,
Elsie Borden, various dairies, beef companies, cutlery
and farming. An electronic talking cow named
Buttercup Bonanza follows visitors on the tour and
demonstrates the entire process of how milk is made
whilst munching on artificial hay. A souvenir shop
sells milk, ice cream, cheese, leather goods, and cow
figurines. In one room you can milk a live cow and in
another a live cow is butchered. A special prayer-
scream room has been included for people to give
their devotions to these special animals who have
given so much and asked for so little in return.
The 2nd floor contains a new casino called the Cash
Cow Casino where over 400 new video slot machines
with a bovine theme are ready to suck the moola out of
feverish gambler's pockets. Slot machines include
Udder Mania, Milk Money, Moo Money, Haywire,
Meat Millions, Hay Fever, Leather Lucre, Dairy
Dollars, Bet The Farm, Purple Cow Sevens, Bovine
Bucks, and the very popular Cud Cash. The Udder
Mania progressive jackpot winner gets a herd of
Jersey cows and a farm in upstate New York. A
special prayer-scream room is also included on this
floor for gamblers who have given so much and gotten
s o little in
return.
COWS GET WIRED-Thanks to the efforts of Bovine Billionaire Bea Babs Boobinsky cows
now have Internet access. Her company, Pasture Internet Slip Stream (PISS), developed a
special heavy duty foot mouse and slick tongue moodem which has enabled bored with grazing
bovines the opportunity to surf the web while grazing. Pictured above are cows on line
waiting to get online and chat up a herd of cows in Bullgaria. PISS reports that cows log onto
pages devoted to food, sky diving, Laverne & Shirley and download pictures of bulls.
MILK MOOGUL MONICOW LEWSTINKY-The smartest cow in the world starts her
publicity tour in Washington, DC and signs her new book for smart human children. She
introduced into their young vocabularies the meaning of words like hummer, blowjob,
oral sex, and genitalia, which were previously unknown to most young nippers. In
addition, her dairy advertisements for that other white liquid have stimulated deflated milk
sales making her the savior of farmers all across the land. Next up? A promo for milkers knee
pads!
UDDER BRAS TAKE HOLD
Ogletown, DE- When it comes to udders, American
cows get a T rating (for titanic) at least in cup size.
According to a survey by Merrill Lynch ("We're
Bullish on America") almost 44% of American cows
now wear bras. The bovine brassieres are
manufactured by a Twin Peaks, California company
called Bovine Udder Bras Amalgamated (BUBA)
which reported profits of over $36 million dollars last
year.
Farmers continue to complain about this latest fashion
trend citing the time it takes before and after milking
to unhook and rehook the bras to the udder. "It cuts
down on our productivity and besides we like to see
them swinging those loaded cannons when they come
into the barn. Now with them holstered we ain't getting
titillated no more. It's just another boring day in the
milking parlor for us with these prudish cows," said
unhappy farmer Dick Wacker.
In addition, the survey showed that 42% of the cows
thought their udders were pear shaped, 40% said they
were pendulous, and 18% said they looked like milk
bags. The survey concluded that cows are getting
more modest about their private parts as they enter the
21st century. A majority would even consider stepping
into underwear and lingerie when they hit the market!
BUTT MASSAGE MAY
HELP BOVINES
Jolly Dump, SD- If a farmer tells you to "stick it where
the sun don't shine," they might be doing you a favor.
According to Dr. Ben Dover a sex-cum-proctologist-
cum-veterinarian, a finger up your cow's bottom for 30
seconds a day can improve her health. The good
doctor (who we refused to shake hands with)
explained to us that "sphincter tension" is a major
cause of death in cows today. He says the best way to
relieve this tension is by shoving a clean finger up
their rear ends at least twice a day. "These cows are
under tremendous amounts of pressure to produce
unlimited quantities of milk and deliver prize calves.
They are overworked, constipated, and pissed off at
the world. When I give them the finger they smile at
me and go on to lead productive lives."
Many bovine health experts like Howie Feltersnatch
are poo-poohing Dover's claims saying that most
assholes like to be left alone. "This notion that cow
sphincters are tense is asinine. I have never been
around a cow who didn't let fly with her fecal calling
card within 15 minutes of meeting me. They are the
most relaxed creatures on the face of this fertile earth
and have very little stress to deal with. This crackpot
Ben Dover is a filthy pervert dispensing suppository
advice to a nation of farmers who will listen to any
quack with a degree when they get behind in their
payments to the bank. The digital age of farming
means computerized pie and flow charts not fingers in
the derriere (dairyair!)."
FLANK SINATRA
BUYS THE FARM
Crapo, MD- Beloved crooner, bullshit artist and
reputed mobsteer Flank Sinatra passed away last night
after a two year battle with Hoof In Mouth Disease. A
month prior to his death he was able to record one last
song entitled "Scooby Dooby Moo" which was
released yesterday and shot to the top of the charts
with a bullet.
The bull with the golden throat had many hits over the
years including "The Bossy Is A Tramp," Kick Your
Ass In The Grass," "Heifers In The Night,"
"Something In The Way She Moos" and "Milkman
Magic." He barnstormed the world over and delighted
farm animals with his big barn concerts. Born in
Cheesequake, New Jersey the skinny bull with blue
eyes found the world of entertainment more to his
liking than a male bovines usual career in studom.
His string of six marriages over the years to the likes
of Josie Bigbooty, Mary Humpstone, Barb Dwyer,
Mary Christmas, Penny Pincher and the underage
Uretha Franklin all ended in bitter acrimony. His well
publicized penile reduction surgery ten years ago
scandalized the bovine world. Flank's lack of progeny
over the years led many to whisper that he was
impotent. He often got in trouble with the law for
being friendly with members of the Milk Mafia and
trampling anyone who got in his way. Flank Sinatra
will be buried next week at his summer farm in Weed
Heights, Nevada. The inscription on his tombstone is
purported to be: "Always be sincere, even if you don't
mean it."
GAY HUNGER STRIKE ENDS
Sandwich, NH- An emaciated Guernsey named Lizz
B. Ann ended her three month hunger strike yesterday
saying that by becoming a vegetable she was only
serving the interests of her enemies. Ms. Liz B. Ann, a
resident of Dyke Brothers Farm, and other
homoosexual cows is upset that they are being
segregated from each other and not allowed to lead a
homogenized life together.
In a statement released to the Internet newsgroup
alt.butch.cows she explained: "As calves we are
branded queer, separated from the herd, and as soon as
we approach adulthood butchered in order to erase our
genetic bloodline. All we are asking is not to be
bullied (we prefer artificial insemination) and the
opportunity to marry our sisters and live out our lives
in contentment. All beings, regardless of sexual
orientation, must be treated equally. Give Me Tongue
Or Give Me Death!"
(Our favorite scandalmonger chatters idly about other cows. She brings the dirt from the pasture right into your
barns. The Bull Starts and Stops Right Here!)
Welcome DAILY COW fans to the inaugural column of Celebrity Cowpies. I'm Bessie Largemouth (*a
Polish Red*) and very excited about taking over this page from the reportedly deceased Guru Moo (a
Brown Swiss). My informants in Europe tell me that she was not slaughtered and is still alive but under
heavy medication. Rumor has it she was taken to a Funny Farm in the South of France in a leather
strait-jacket. My mole on Mount Moo told me that it was her cryptic metaphysical musing that finally
drove her crazy and made her susceptible to being snared in the butterfly net. (*Denotes B.O.B./Breed of
Bovine*)
In the world of print zines R. Seth Feedman (a Brown Atlas) has called it quits at Feedsheet Five and is
looking for a buyer (price 50,000 clams). The so-called Bible of review zines may get bought up by
corporate interests but it will never be the same. We wish Seth well and hopes he gets some big clams for
all the hours he put in...Dougy Holland (a Caucasian Brown) of Zine World is rumoured to be bullimic
having lost over 200 pounds since starting the "honest opinion" review zine...Ruel Ravioli (an Italian
Red Pied) of Amusing Yourself To Death (the "in depth opinion" review zine) is rumoured to be
mad-cowly in love with boob tube star Gilligan Anderson (another Italian Red Pied) and sending her
edible flowers every day whilst paying for it with subscriber monies...Daily Cow publisher David Mooey
(a Pale Jackass) is reportedly writing the script for the first bovine porn moovie entitled "Debbie Does
David In Dallas" which will surely land him in hot water with federal authorities and tarnish his milky
clea image...Dan Druff (a Texas Longhorn) of Cud Quarterly was arrested for selling drug-laced beef
jerky...
In the rerun world of TV land cows my sources inform me that Jersey Seinfield (a Holstein) is bored out
of his skull after ending the run of his hit show and is making a sport of hitting the hay with
newlywedded & big-uddered females while the groom's back is turned...CBS newsbull Sawyer Peters (a
Simmental) was seen hanging out with the Drugrats (Domestic Yaks) at a party in midtown Manhattan
and guests were amazed at how many lines of a certain milky white powder he snorted up his nostrils
with the cowmic cows...Opera Winfry (an Africander), fresh off her trial victory over the Texas
Cattleman's Association, is said to be unfazed by the departure of her long-time beau Studman (a
Brahman) who grew tired of her inflated ego and cooking the books for her conflict of interest book
club...The lovely Rita Mooreno (a Friesian) recuperating nicely from face lift and udder tuck...
In the wacky world of sports Yankees owner Jorge Steinbuller (a German Brown) is said to have made
wild monkey love to Cuban president Fidel Castrator (a Greek Shorthorn) in exchange for some hot new
prospects to stock his aging bullpen... Basketbull's Dennis Rodman (an Icelandic Albino) married sultry
cheerleader Anita Dick (a Japanese Shorthorn) at a barn of prostitution on the outskirts of Las
Vegan...Cow Jockey Dick Ryder (a Limousin) was booked for 2% homocide after abusing Ivana Johnson
(a Belgian Red) who reportedly suffered third degree burns on her udder when Ryder set a match to her
after she lost another race...
In the loud world of music butcher wrapper Sean "Puffy" Cowmbs (Beefalo) threw a gala birthday bash
for himself and was in seventh heaven suckling the again lactating Moodonna (a Hereford) under the
buffet table. The Spice Cows (White Fulani's) were all reportedly impregnated by the same band of bulls
(initials R.E.M.) but were shortly decalfinated at Dr. Jack's Clinic in Buffalo, NY on advice of their
manager Joe Blow (a Belted Galloway)...
That's it for this go round in the world of cow gossip. I hope you enjoyed my first column and feel free
to send me any celebrity cowpies that you come across in care of this zine. Remember to disinfect your
udders twice a week and drink plenty of yage. There is no truth only rumors of such...
ByBessieLargemouth
PASTURE BEDTIME
(At Daily Cow we are disgusted and turned off
by the latest sex scandal between a human and a cow. In
order to put things in perspective we present the follow-
ing story of love and sex in the pasture between a cow
and a bull. Sex and love the way it is meant to be!)
It was a beautiful October day. The kind of day
where every bull's cock gets hard upon awakening and
stays that way until he goes to sleep at night. Randy was
at his new farm for only the second day and feeling
lonely.
The next day he was minding his business in the
field when a pretty young heifer named Debi came his
way and started rubbing up against him. She kept telling
him that she needed a bull. Randy was excited and hot to
trot. Yes, when a bull feels the urge to copulate it is hard
to contain. The next time Debi swung her prime buttocks
in his view he mounted her without hesitation. His slip-
pery tool found its way quickly into her warm and moist
cow vagina. He slapped his healthy and hard tool all the
way in. In then out, slow then fast, up then down, and as
was his flair, round and round. She mooed passionately
and he grunted as if he had discovered a new foodstuff to
satiate his hunger. The earth was mooving again...
He rode her for hours making her udder jiggle all the way
to the bank. "Give it to me Randy, give it to me like
you've never given it to anyone", she mooed. Debi was
good, her cunt juices were tasty and her legs were steady
as I pushed my bull cock all the way in to the hilt. She
screamed in delight when I finally came.
A ton of love juice spilled into her cunt and she
looked at me like I had fathered the universe. She danced
all over the pasture as my tongue licked her love hole, her
large teats and udder. We were in heaven, angels fucking
until the cows came home. We looked into each others
eyes, kissed gently with tongue and made a date for
tomorrow. Same time, same place, same dance....
WHAT NOW DAILY COW?
A cow pat on the back and congratulations to us
on our ten year anniversary. As our first decade comes to
a close we look forward to many more issues of this
infamous zine. Doing this zine is still great fun for me.
The many friendships it has nurtured over the years have
made it well worth the time and effort.
After this issue DAILY COW will be heading in
a new direction. The current format which has held
strong for 14 issues will be scrapped.We have simply
cow-punned ourselves to death and run out of those crazy
story ideas that appear in each issue. Future editions of
the zine will be more graphic oriented and have less text.
We will still welcome submissions of text but will aim for
the old precept of "a picture is worth a thousand words."
I hope you enjoy this issue and the many issues
to come. In the words of Philip K. Dick, "reality is that
which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away."
We hope the same holds true for DAILY COW!
OVERHERD
"The Pentagon is reportedly spending
$50,000,000 on Viagra this year.
I guess they finally got the message and want
to make love and not war."
(Cosmo Creamer)
"Patience. In time the grass becomes milk."
(Zen Wizard Udder Chow)
"Mental floss prevents moral decay."
(Sign on CEO's Bob Apple's door)
DAILY COW ISSUE #14
Nothing Here Is Real or Imagined
Editor & Publisher: David Mooey
COWTRIBUTORS for #14: Dan Buck, Richard E. Baum,
CBM, Wes Combs, Carl Essex, Kevin Lawrence, Gabe
Martin, Mrs. Moo Moo, K. Starr, Arthur Wiknik Jr., R.
Wilkins, Tean & all unsigned articles by the Editor.
Submissions for publication related wholly to bovines are
welcome. Payment is in issues and our undying love. Daily
Cow is published yearly and is not for profit. This issue is
availabull for $2 cash, 6 first class stamps, zine trade or cow
clippings. Back Issues #1-#13 are $2 each. All 13 can be
had for $20. Checks can be made out to David R. Wyder.
Zine library issue collections are free.
Daily Cow believes that your diet, wardrobe, sense of
humor and oral sex are your own business. The cow and
blowjob are sacred and beautiful in whatever form they may
take. Kiss a cow today but ask first. Not responsible for
anything...
Direct all mail and lost cows to the following address:
DAVID R. WYDER
87 Richard Street, Apt. 7
PASSAIC, NJ 07055
email: DailyCow@aol.com
web site: members.aol.com/dczines.index2.htm
Moo l Oom
Blind Cow Publications 1998
MS. DAIRY QUEEN
NAME: Linda Slut Dairy Tripp (AKA LSD Trip)
BIRTHPLACE: Radio Shack, New Jersey
OCCUPATION: Professional Snitch-Bitch-Witch
RELIGION: The Christian Cowalition (Jesus For President in 2000!)
UDDER SIZE: Big enough to supply milk for all the crack dealers in Washington, DC
LAST SLEPT WITH: The Pentagon, Ken "Dark" Starr, Rear Admiral Red Rufunsore
LIKES: Wiretapping, book agents, leeches, rats, genital warts, phone tag
DISLIKES: Sex, friends, The Media, personal privacy, polyesteer pantsuits
FAVE FOODS: Brothel Sprouts, Hemlock Juice, Tyson Ears, Live Bugs, Parisitic Worms
FAVE MOOVIES: The Big CREEP, The Good The Bad & The Ugly, The Elephant Man
FAVE TV SHOWS: To Tell The Truth, Truth or Cowsequences, I've Got A Secret, I Spy
FAVE JOKES: What's the difference between a gay rodeo and a straight rodeo?
(At a straight rodeo they yell ride that sucker.)
Why did Vince Foster commit suicide?
(He slept with me!)
FANTASY: A threesome with Monicow and Willy!
NIGHTMARE: Having sex with myself!
QUOTE: "Things are seldom what they seem, skim milk masquerades as cream."
DAILY COW: Rumor has it that you look like a cow.
What do you really look like?
DAVID WYDER: I'm 53 years young, a white/male
(Swiss on my father's side and Dutch on my mother's
side). I'm 5'11' and weigh about 145 pounds. I have
brown eyes, brown hair with male pattern baldness, ten
fingers, ten toes, one nose, two ears, two nipples, two
horns, a hairy chest, and a busy penis. I am deaf in one
ear, wear glasses, speak English with a deep, sexy voice
and walk sideways.
DAILY COW: Whatever possessed you to do a zine
about cows in the first place?
DAVID WYDER: I don't know why. People ask me this
all the time. Many years ago I discovered zines through
Mike Gunderloy and Factsheet Five. I sent away for
some and discovered the wacky world of self-publishing.
One October day I was reading the NY Daily News and
started converting some of the articles into cow stories.
Then I started clipping cow pictures and something in
their eyes spoke to me and inspired me to write. The first
issue was crudely done on an electric typewriter back in
November 1988 and I haven't been able to stop since.
DAILY COW: Who are some writers who have influ-
enced you over the years?
DAVID WYDER: Not necessarily in any order but I like
Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, Stephen King,
Dave Barry, George Carlin, Dostoevsky, Henry Miller,
Tom Robbins, William Burroughs, Mary Baker Eddy
and Emily Dickinson.
DAILY COW: Do you have any other interests or
passions in life besides cows?
DAVID WYDER: My other interests include gambling
(playing the slots!), sex (fucking is the force that drives
the world), baseball (love those Yankees!), reading (I've
never been unhappy with a book in my hands), and I like
to play basketball but don't get outside that much any-
more.
DAILY COW: Who do you love?
DAVID WYDER: I've been in love for the past 22 years
with a wonderful lady named Ernestine Francies. She
udderstands me!
DAILY COW: What organizations, civic groups,
religions, or political parties do you belong to?
DAVID WYDER: I belong to the Church of the SubGe-
nius,The Church of Euthanasia,The Holy Church of Moo
and a lapsed member of the Christian Science Church. I
also belong to the Literary Guild, Columbia & BMG
record clubs. I'm pretty much of a loner. My 1st grade
report card noted "doesn't play well with the other
children." This has carried through in my adult life. I've
always been my own best friend. Politics is boring...
DAILY COW: How do you support yourself?
DAVID WYDER: With a soiled jockstrap and a prayer!
In reality, the last 26 years I have worked as an Adminis-
trative Secretary with the Passaic Board of Education.
Eleven years in the Food Service Department and the
past fifteen years at the high school in the MediaCen-
ter...Work sucks the creative life out of me and makes
me a very dull and dispassionate person. I enjoy what I
do but don't enjoy the environment in which I do it.
Before that I held jobs as a custodian, printer, ware-
houseman, grass cutter, poet, druggist and beer drinker.
DAILY COW: How do you go about creating each
issue of the zine? Does it take very long?
DAVID WYDER: Very slowly! First I type all the
contributors pages, fuss endlessly about the layout and
search my vast archives for a picture that will fit each
page. I go to my files and complete all the general pages
(Kale, Alfalfa, etc.) with stuff I've gleaned since the prior
issue. At this point half of the issue is done and I have to
get down to brass tacks and let that crazy cow inside of
me take over and do some original writing. The cover
story, cow news, cowmercials, etc. usually take about six
to eight hours each to complete. When it's finally done I
do all the copying on my trusty Canon PC6-RE copier,
collate, staple and mail out over 100 copies to interested
bovine folks all over the world. Then I redo portions of
the issue in html and put it up on my web site. I work on
the zine 365 days a year! Each issue is like a giant
10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle that takes forever. Today it
feels like I'm pregnant and way overdue!
DAILY COW: When will you put out your final
issue?
DAVID WYDER: After completing each issue I always
say to myself that this will be the last one but I can't stop!
I get a deep feeling of satisfaction after each issue is put
to bed. The lack of comments from folks who get the
zine and mostly poor reviews do tend to balance out that
good feeling but this zine is really just done for me. If
others like it, that's great. I'll never stop doing it as long
as I still enjoy doing it. If the labor of love were lost and
the scent of money took over that surely would spell the
end of this zine. But don't worry cow fans none of the
media conglomerates is knocking down my door to buy
this zine...
DAILY COW: Any closing thoughts?
DAVID WYDER: Every day can't be sunshine, blue
skies and green grass so learn to enjoy the rain, gray
skies and pavement. One of my favorite quotes of all
time is by Buddha: "Believe nothing, no matter where
you read it, or who said it-even if I have said it-unless it
agrees with your own reason and your own common
sense."
THE DAILY COW INTERVIEW
WITH MR. WYDER
The second Daily Cow interview took place on a bucolic
November evening which cowincidentally was the 35th
anniversary of the assassination of JFK. If this interview
seems a bit schizophrenic its because David Wyder
(thats me) is being interviewed by the only staff mem-
ber of Daily Cow (David Mooey, thats me as well). I
thought readers might be interested in finding out more
about the cow-obsessed freak behind this zine. One
thing about interviewing yourself-you cant claim to be
misquoted after its printed!
His daily routine to age seventeen included bringing the
cows to and from the pasture in summer and cleaning the stables
in winter. He would write that he had sort of a filial regard
for the cow, a rural divinity that had commanded the vast
majority of his youthful worship and service. Every Sunday
morning the cows were salted. Burroughs took a pail with three
or four quarts of coarse salt and, followed by the eager herd,
went to the field where he laid salt in handfuls on smooth stones
and clear places of turf. If you want to know how good salt is,
wrote Burroughs, see a cow eat it. She gives the true saline
smack. How she dwells upon it, and gnaws the sward and licks the
stones where it has been deposited.
Looking back to his romantic vision of boyhood on the farm,
Burroughs said it seemed to him that the cow was the most
delightful feeder among animals. In the deep nostalgia of old
age, even the eating habits of the brutish herd were to become
something praised and cherished. He wrote that there was a virtue
in the cow, that a wholesome odor exhaled from her. The quality
and aroma of miles of meadow and pasture lands were defined by
her presence. He would rather, he said, be the guardian of cattle
than the keeper of the great seal of the nation.Where the cow
was, there were the lost days and places of his youth-there was
Arcadia.
By Edward J. Renehan, Jr.
(John Burroughs an American Naturalist/Page 28-29)
(My great aunt, Clara Barrus, was John Burroughs secretary and official biographer. As a child I
spent many summers in Roxbury, New York where Burroughs had built Woodchuck Lodge. It was
here that I had my first introduction to real cows. Something about those vacation days on the farm
along with my Aunt Clara and Burroughs have combined for my bovine obsession and this zine. As
an adult I have returned there but the cows are all gone...David)
Yes, sexual deviancy pervades the countryside. First, there are all of those lesbian cows. Every
21 days or so, sexually mature, non-pregnant bovine females shamelessly lose control of their carnal
passions; they come into estrus, in heat, or on heat as the British would say.
When there is no bull to requite their desires, these cows can be observed mounting each other
in the dark recesses of the back pasture or right up by the roadside, in front of God and everybody. The
cow which stands for another to mount is deemed to be in heat. At this point, the farmer has 12-24 hours
to enter the game if he wants his cow to become pregnant.
In times past, he would drive or lead old Bossy to his own or the neighbors bull. Farm boys have
many jokes about this. In one case, the farm boy explains to his teacher that he is late to school because
he had to take the cow to the neighbors bull. The teacher asks, Couldnt your father have done it? Yes,
but Dads not registered.
When there is no bull, sex around the farm really gets weird. The farmer, (are you ready?) picks
up the telephone. He calls his neighborhood inseminator to join the fun. The inseminator arrives with
semen that has been collected at a bull stud in a manner that would have the religious right tearing their
hair out if it were ever on the local newsstand.
In times past, a cow kept hot with hormone injections was used as the object of the bulls
affection. Because the hand is not the only thing quicker than the eye, the bull sometimes slipped one
past his handlers and actually penetrated the cow. Many times VD was transmitted this way.
Hot cows have been discarded in favor of other sex-objects, animate and inanimate. It is
enough to make one blush, but often one male is used for the donor to mount after a little foreplay and
teasing.
In another scenario as the bull mounts, the handler grasps the bulls sheath in one hand and
guides the bulls erect penis, or male member if you prefer, into an artificial vagina which consists of a
hard composition outer shell some 10 centimeters or so in diameter with a latex liner filled with warm
water and suitably lubricated.
When the bull has had his pleasure, in a manner of speaking, the ejaculate is drained into a
collection tube at the end of a latex cone attached to one end of the artificial vagina. The volume of the
ejaculate is measured, and the semen diluted and frozen in vials or straws the latter developed by the
French at a bull stud in LAigle, Normandy.
Now, for you who have trouble handling this Gay-Lesbian-Bisexual-Masturbatory article, I thought
it worth pointing out that even the dittoheads in the Bible Belt depend on all these alternative lifestyles and
more to keep their mortgage paid.
By Wes Combs
(Ph.D Academic Advisor & Consultant in International Livestock Development)
Reflections of a
Transgendered Cow
By Carl Essex
Big Tex was the prize bull on Mr. Tuckers
ranch, having won the blue ribbon at many a state
fairground. He was an incredibly large hunk of
rippling muscle that would have sent even the
most fearless rodeo cowboys running in fear. Mr.
Tucker made sure that Big Tex sired many calves
on his ranch, and kept hoping for more prize
cattle. But none matched Big Texs power, ap-
pearance, or assertive nature. Yes, he was the
king of the ranch.
Unknown to Mr. Tucker was that Big Tex also
possessed a very keen mind. Big Tex knew that
he was something special...the stud of the cat-
tle...and used his reputation to have his way with
any cow he came across, often brutally forcing his
way upon the female beasts.
One day, while maneuvering his massive, dark
brown bovine body across a field at the ranch, Big
Tex noticed an especially alluring cow named
Sue Bell chewing her cud seductively beside a
tree.
Ive never conquered Sue Bell, Big Tex
thought to himself, as his pace quickened in the
direction of the tree. Sue Bell, raising her large
eyes toward the oncoming and excited bull, im-
mediately turned and began to march away.
She cant escape me that easily, Big Tex
thought as he closed the distance in a steady
gallop, her reddish-coloring making him all the
more aggressive. Big Tex finally reached Sue
Bell and reared up his hind legs onto her back,
prepared to make the frightened cow his latest in
a long line of conquests.
Suddenly all went black for an instant and Big
Tex found himself lying down in a pile of hay in
a barn. Looking around, he did not recognize his
surroundings. What happened? This place
doesnt look familiar, he thought as he gazed
around.
Climbing to his feet, Big Tex realized that his
body felt wrong. He was shorter than normal, and
he could tell that his body was now milky white
with at least one black spot on one of his legs. His
legs! His legs were now much less muscular and
he generally felt weaker all over. He was shocked
and involuntarily let out a loud Moo. Whats
wrong with my voice! Its never sounded as high
pitched and delicate.
All of a sudden Big Tex felt an unfamiliar
movement just below his belly. Udders!!! I have
udders!!! his mind screamed in revulsion.
Spying an old mirror laying against a wall of
the barn, Big Tex trotted over, noticing a strange
sway in his rear parts as he walked. He also
noticed that something seemed to be missing from
between his legs. It cant be missing! he
thought in horror. What I think has happened,
couldnt have happened!
Big Tex reached the mirror and almost regurgi-
tated some cud when he saw the image reflected
back at him. A cow! A VERY female cow was
staring back at him. She/he had long lashes high-
lighting big delicate eyes. He could see the large
mammary sack hanging underneath him with the
very obvious udders poking downward. And, of
course, the very heart and soul of the prized bull
was missing, replaced by a very female part of the
cow anatomy that he coveted so much. But he
didnt covet it this way!
I cant be a cow, he thought. Im a bull!
Ive got to change back somehow. Just then a
large man walked into the barn carrying a bucket.
He was obviously a farmhand. He grabbed a stool
from the corner and pulled it up next to Big Tex
in his sleek new cow body.
Oh no! Big Tex thought. I know what he
has in mind, and I cant go through with it. The
bull/cow started to lunge away, which angered the
man, who proceeded to steer Big Tex into a
cramped stall. In my other male body I could
have gotten away from him, but not in this weak
carcass, thought Big Tex.
The man placed the bucket under Big Tex.
Here it comes, the new cow tensed. The man
grabbed the udders and began pulling on them.
Big Tex was surprised by the sensations as his
udders stiffened under the caress of the mans
hand.
Hey, this feels kind of good, Big Tex
thought. The sound of warm milk hitting the
metal bucket made the experience even more
pleasant for Big Tex. Maybe I could live like
this, for awhile at least.
Two weeks later Big Tex found that he did
enjoy being one of the cows as they huddled
together in the fields munching grass. He also
found that he liked the attention he received from
the bulls, and realized that cows enjoy mating
much more than bulls, something he wouldve
never dreamed.
Finally, Big Tex found himself to be the proud
mother of a strong young calf, possibly the future
stud of the ranch. He could not imagine ever
going back to being a bull. Life was udderly
delightful!
It has been going on for quite awhile, has the JET. Shortened from Joint European Torus,
this is (allegedly) the worlds largest machine, and is used for accelerating tiny particles to
superfast speeds and then colliding them together to observe the results. However, animal rights
activists were outraged when a group of scientists abandoned their normal research and began
accelerating cows instead.
The theory was this-while, in truth, we understand that cows exist, we havent even
explored the possibilities with them. So, while we spend time exploring new areas, we havent
even finished work on the old! By observing the effect of crashing two cows together at half of
lightspeed, scientists hope to develop their understanding of both high-energy impact and cow
anatomy.
One animal rights activist, going by the name of Shana McLane, said that the experi-
ments were cruel, and that the cows should at least have the choice of whether or not they
become involved. A spokesman for the JET, John Travis, said that he had asked all the cows
involved and they had replied moo, which their translator had confirmed as meaning yes. The
experiments have so far caused three small earthquakes, and have provided supplies for several
barbecues.
However, the activists dont plan to stop there. A campaign led by Tara Johnson has
started to raise funds to try and take the JET to court and ban the further use of live animals in
super-high speed experiments. The JET teams have so far refused to comment on this, but are
believed to be consulting their lawyer about the legal implications of such a ban.
However, as no proceedings are yet place, and are unlikely to be for the next few months,
the cows will continue to be used. Indeed, with the results now bordering on completion, it is
likely that the teams will move on to using pigs and sheep before the end of the year-the expected
death rate is up to 30 animals a day. The scientists say that this is justified, as the research is very
valuable to modern science, but the activists continue to lobby. The battle looks to be a long one.
COWS AND HIGH ENERGY
PARTICLE PHYSICS
When my sister Janice and I were kids, we
fantasized that we owned a huge horse ranch
complete with stables, corrals and miles of white
painted fences. Our pretend ranch was easy to
imagine because we already lived on a small
farm. However, the five-acre parcel only con-
sisted of our house, a hay barn and a cow pasture.
For animals we had a mongrel dog named Bebop,
two Hereford cows called Lucy and Ethel, and a
Guernsey steer known as Frisky.
Janice and I were not satisfied with just hav-
ing cattle on our ranch so we kept pestering our
father for a horse. He said he would think about
it, then joked if we wanted a horse bad enough we
should practice riding the cows. We thought Dad
was serious, so we tried our luck with Lucy and
Ethel, but neither cow would stand still long
enough for us to climb aboard.
Frisky was much more accommodating be-
cause he didnt run away from anybody. When he
was two weeks old, Dad had him castrated to
remove any natural aggressiveness. So instead of
growing into a handsome virile bull, Friskys
emasculated body made him so listless that we
thought about changing his name to Zombie.
When I lifted Janice onto Friskys back, he
took a few steps and began grazing. This was no
way for a cowboy to ride the range and Frisky
obviously didnt understand his role in our fan-
tasy. To get Frisky moving, Janice jammed her
heels into his ribs. Frisky weakly responded by
swinging his tail across Janices back, as if lazily
swatting a bothersome fly. Then I plucked a hand-
ful of green grass and waved it under Friskys
nose but he ignored me as well. Our only alterna-
tive was to bring in the dog.
We normally kept Bebop chained to the
bumper of an abandoned car, letting him loose on
the weekends for exercise and romance. Since we
were the last house on a dead end road, Bebop
didnt have many opportunities to chase cars, so
whenever he was free, he got into the pasture and
chased the cattle. Now that I had Janice sitting
high on top of Frisky, I turned Bebop loose.
When Bebop ran into the pasture, he was
puzzled at the sight of Janice perched on Friskys
back. What happened next is anybodys guess but
Bebop went berserk, howling and nipping at
Friskys legs. Frisky took off like a rocket and
after two leaping bounds, a screaming Janice
bounced to the ground, narrowly missing a fresh
cowpie. Bebop continued the chase, getting Lucy
and Ethel to stampede as well. We figured that
Bebop thought Frisky had captured Janice and
that it was his job to set her free. We never used
the dog again because he offered no speed con-
trol.
Then we remembered that when our mother
worked in the garden she sometimes threw un-
wanted vegetables into the pasture and the cattle
would go crazy over them. Cabbage seemed to be
their favorite, so we plucked a ripe head to entice
Frisky. It worked perfectly. One of us led Frisky
with the cabbage head while the other rode. When
we finished riding for the day, we hid the cabbage
in the barn.
Early the next morning we were awakened by
Friskys loud bellowing. He was on the second
floor of the barn standing at the edge of the loft
door. Janice and I had left the pasture gate open
which allowed Frisky to go inside the barn to look
for the cabbage. During his search, Frisky
climbed up the stairs but could not get back down.
So now we had to figure out a way to get the 800
pound steer off the second floor.
We could not send Frisky down the stairs
because he would likely break his legs, which
would mean the end for him. We had but one
option, Frisky would have to jump. Dad parked
his truck under the door and loaded it with hay
bales. Frisky looked down at the hay padding and
bellowed, as if he was aware of the acrobatics we
had in mind for him. Dad and I pushed Friskys
rump while Janice sat on the truck waving the
cabbage head. Well never know if it was the
cabbage or Dad twisting Friskys tail that made
him jump, but he leaped out the door and miracu-
lously landed in the truck unhurt.
Dad left Frisky on the truck and drove him
away, telling us that Frisky was going to another
farm where hed be happier. What we didnt
know was that Dad took him to the slaughter-
house.
About two weeks later, we were having steak
for supper. Janice and I began complaining that
we missed Frisky and asked if wed ever see him
again. Dad almost choked on our question, but
Mom was quick to calm us when she said, Dont
worry kids, someday Frisky will turn up when
you least expect him.
Butcher
Stew
You have to go, whether you want to go or not! The fierce butcher hauled on the rope with all his
might. The old cow on the other end of the rope knew what was going on. It lowered its head and
refused to budge.
Hurry up, will you! The butcher pulled out a whip, and cursed as he whipped the old cow. They
struggled all the way up the street this way, one cursing and pulling, the other silently resisting.
When they got to a bank, the cow suddenly dropped to its knees in front of the door and started to cry.
Big tears rolled down its bovine face. The president of the bank came out to see what the commotion
was about. The cow looked so sad!
Butcher, what is the price for this cow? he asked.
It cost 8,000, but Im not selling it!
Ill give you 10,000, what do you say? The bank president was touched by cows tears, and had
decided to save its life.
But the butcher sneered and said, This cow has given me a load of trouble! Ive had it with this cow.
Im going to chop off its head and hack it to death, thats what Im going to do! And Im NOT going to
sell it to you, so dont even bother to raise your price.
The old cow seemed to understand human speech. When it heard that, it got to its feet with a sigh and
went with the butcher.
The butcher was furious that the cow had tried to beg for its life. Instead of taking it to the market, he
took it to his own house and chopped it into pieces. He threw the pieces into his biggest wok to cook.
By then it was late, so he left the wok on the fire overnight, so it would be thoroughly cooked and
delicious in the morning. Then he went to bed.
But early the next morning his wife heard him get out of bed. Im going to check the fire and see how
the beef is doing, he said.
Much later his wife realized that he still had not come back. She got out of bed to look for him. In the
kitchen, she saw the fire was still going under the wok - somehow her husband had slipped and fallen
into the wok and was cooking with the beef!
Thanks to hckek@iastate.edu at the Iowa State University Lotus Buddhist Association
Cowmics by Mr. Davy, Mr. Darrero, Mr. Blevins & Mr. Lewison
BESSIE THE VAMPIRE COW
STORY #4
By Kevin Lawrence
Like the riptide off the coast of parts of
Southern Florida, New England pulled at me that
summer. Following urges who origins remain a
mystery to me now, I migrated north. I traveled by
night, of course, taking the two lane blacktop
much like Dennis Wilson, James Taylor and
Warren Oates had in the movie of the same name.
Seeing the shine of lights over the next hill, Id
dip down into the ditch, and bound soundlessly
over a fence, pretending to graze, or pretending to
sleep standing up. Aside from a few fraternity
thugs that I had to dispatch (they had tried to tip
me while I was sleeping) the journey was
uneventful. Before long I found myself passing a
sign that said Entering Madison County. After
passing it, I turned and saw the sign on the other
side of the road Entering Dade County.
In the dead of night, with the sound of night
bugs humming in my oversized ears, I felt the
lands beauty speak to me. I felt it in the sound of
the wind through the tall grass bordering the
highway. I heard it in the rustling of the leaves
high in the trees, responding to air currents we
could not feel way down here. I felt it in the road
itself, how it hugged the lands contours, how it
seemed part of nature itself. The faint scent of oil
following dips in the pavement seemed as natural
as the sweetness of a field of clover as I passed
through.
I stood still for a few minutes, and no cars
passed to disturb my reverie. Ahead lay a bridge.
A covered bridge. To get to the other side of the
river, I would have to cross it. The river was too
swift flowing, and I had not fed in days. I felt
weak, and the land alone could not sustain me.
The need for blood pounded in my head.
Strolling towards the bridge, I saw a light
from a trailer off the side of the road, far back in
a roadside rest area.
Silly human, I thought. Didnt he hear of
the Rest Area murder up in Alberta last year?
I decided to investigate. Moving silently as I
always do, I stole up to the window of the trailer
and peered inside. A man, in his early 50s,
peering through a lens, examining a negative. He
seemed dissatisfied with the negative, for he
threw it on the floor, to join quite a few of his
friends. He picked up another from a pile and
peered at it as he did with the first. A puzzled
expression came over his face. He put the
negative in a projection machine and turned on
the overhead light, projecting the image on the
wall. From my limited experience with
photography, it appeared to be a time exposure,
from darkness to sunset. He marked a spot on the
negative, and went about the laborious process of
making a print. Fifteen minutes later, he had a
very large print of photographic paper. He went
over to the print, and marked another spot on this
detail of a negative, and again went though the
print process.
I looked at this print and saw what he was
looking at, finally. It was a picture of me, digging
my nighttime grave.
The photographer had, by accident, caught
me in the act of burrowing my nighttime resting
place. I was horrified. I had been so stupid. If this
man had noticed at the time, he could have
revealed me and burned me with the light of the
sun. I moaned softly, and it was the
photographers turn to be horrified. His back to
me, I saw him stiffen with terror.
I admire your acumen and your persistence,
sir, but Im afraid Ill have to kill you now. He
said nothing and terror still shone from his eyes in
the red darkroom light.
I need to feed, you see. Awfully sorry about
this. Would you be good enough to step outside?
I wouldnt want to mess up your laboratory and
your good work shouldnt go to waste.
Why cant you feed off of those cows over
there, in the field? he said finally.
Where? I said, taking my hooves off the
step and gazing in the direction he pointed.
I felt the splash of liquid on my flanks and
dripping into my eyes. It was a moment before I
remembered that developing photographs
requires acid. I felt my vision go dark, and heard
the door close behind me and lock. For the first
time in my vampiric life, I experienced fear.
I lowed fiercely and loud. So loud I heard the
photographer gasp in pain and fall to the linoleum
floor of his camper. I blundered off in the
direction of the fields Id been looking at just a
few seconds before. I need time. Time to heal,
time to feed. (continued next page)
BESSIE THE VAMPIRE COW
STORY #5/Conclusion
By Kevin Lawrence