"WHERE THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD IS, THERE IS FRED" II FISH 98:6

Fishheads was, at one time, the Circle City's nuttiest, wackiest, stupidist, freshest, buckwiliest, cheapest, deepest, most buxom magazine origionating from a secret subterranean outpost. Just ask Indianapolis Monthly, which named them such in 1993. Of course, next to every copy of Indianapolis Monthly on every far northside coffee table is a copy of Fishheads. But that's beside the point.

Fishheads was published so irregularly as to appear regular, so this webpage compiles some of the best of Fishheads Magazine that Mr. Clean was able to dig up in a display of whitty prose and obsenities that would make your Momma's heart stop.
Mr. Clean reprints these with no expectations of a response, however if you have something funny to say email him of course, otherwise don't bother. These are not the views or opinions of Mr. Clean, they weren't even written by him. He's just finds them abso-fucking-lutely hilarious. ;) Hope you enjoy!

There's a Fishhead in each of us:
Posted by Mr. Clean on Wednesday, December 18, 2002

Holy crap!!! I never in a million years thought putting this site up would ever be viewed by the likes of a contributing writer of the origional magazine. But then again, why not? And so it did. Bob Cook sent me a very nice letter as follows:

"Wow, a Fishheads fanboy page! Who would've guessed it, six years after Fishheads' timely demise? It's so great to be remembered -- seeing your tribute page is like attending my own wake! I've sent the page around to the other main Fishheads types, who are busy managing Chinese prisoner-staffed factories producing pants for Wal-Mart."

Your page gets a mention under "We Like It" here:

http://www.flakmag.com

And I put some of my own Fishheads stuff up here:

http://www.cowsandtrucks.com/fishheads.shtml

Keep the Fishheads flame flickering,

Bob Cook

Well, how do ya like that stuff??? Thanks again, Bob. And here's to the rest of the former Fishheads crew. You guys kicked some serious ass and made a lot of people laugh, despite those freaks in Carmel, Indiana.
-Mr. Clean

Posted by Mr. Clean on Saturday, January 18th, 2003

I can't believe it! It's like a Fishheads readers dream come true! And believe me. That doesn't take much. But our good ol' friend Mick McGrath himself got a peek at this page and here's what he had to say!

Mr. Clean:

Thanks for the web page devoted to Fishheads. I don't know whether Bob informed you, but both he and I are also Carmel grads, albeit I was there before Carmel's GDP rivaled that of Canada.

As Bob also informed you, we have moved on. He is an editor at AMA. I draw pictures of bunnies on my cell wall using spit. My own and others'. It's fun and I'm happy in a completely unhappy, pathetic way that only I, in my drug-addled state, could possibly call happy. If it weren't for my art, the aforementioned spit bunnies, I would go mad.

Mick

Well Mick, I hope this page does ya proud. As for the rest of you... what're you staring at!?

Posted by Mr. Clean on Monday, October 20th, 2003

I do believe my collection is now complete! The next few paragraphs are a former publisher of Fishheads and the other crazy guy behind the madness, Brian Hendrickson! Enjoy.

Dear Mr. Clean:

Thanks for reviving the memories of our favorite ex-client, Fishheads. It was our excruciating pleasure to print damn near every issue (except for the ones they had printed elsewhere) deliver them to the appropriate location at the agreed-upon time using the correct password. I still remember fondly the smell of grease and b.o. that always made producing an issue of Fishheads like an aromatherapy session gone horribly awry. ahhh, memories...

But what the hey, the checks cleared (eventually), so everybody was happy. Everybody except Denise, who, true to her word, never, ever did business with apple press. With the loss of that account, we regrettably had to raise our rates to cover the difference which in turn led to Fishheaditors Brian & Mick's financial ruin. I understand Brian is doing well in the Federal witness protection program and I recently saw one of Mick's spit bunnies appraised on Antiques Roadshow for $2.5 million Canadian (which works out to about $3.42 in coin of the realm.)

We're really sorry we forced you guys to quit and if you can ever forgive us we'd be willing to print another issue for old times' sake (COD of course.)

Yr. Obt. Svt.

-Tom Healy
apple press, inc.
"printing with appeal" since 1983

Well, with any luck, those of us that live around Indianapolis may see Fishheads again so that we may piss off any uptight bastard that walks by. Unfortunately, it seems that our creators have grown up (or maybe not) and gotten real jobs. Oh well. At least I can go dig through my collection at home and laugh at my pain when I'm down. :)

Oh my god...

A Fishheads fan page? I am honored beyond words--even such words as "copyright" and "litigation."

An aquaintance of mine recently did a Google Search for "Brian Hendrickson" and "Indianapolis" and found your site. While he's still no closer to getting his car back, he did let me know about this spot on the web and suggested, among other anatomically impossible things, that I check it out.

Your site has reminded me of those freewheeling days of my semi-youth, where a greater percentage of the day was spent intoxicated. Now I find my time is spent programming web applications, freelancing artwork, and playing with Barbie dolls...uh, I suppose I should mention my four-year-old daughter at this point. I still wear the costume and fight crime at night, but you're not really supposed to know anything about that.

Anyway, thanks and best wishes to you. Your taste in reading material may be questionable, but I think you're a helluva guy.

Brian Hendrickson

Thanks Brian! Your mag gave me even more reason to lash out at society in a variety of ways, including this. But, even more than that, making this site also reminds me of my "freewheeling semi-youth" when I had dreams of creating comic books and actually getting paid for it. Now, I manage a retail store and dream of the day when I can program web applications, freelance artwork and play with Barbie dolls all day... uh, my eight month old daughter hasn't seen my Barbies yet... But my three year old son has discovered the art of removing their heads and flushing them down the toilet. Ka-whooosh!

P.S.
Please don't send the lawyers, or I will run in fear whilst hitting the delete key. :)



All contents on this webpage © Fishheads Magazine and their creators, unless you raise a big stink over it. This entire webpage is dedicated to Mick McGrath, Brian Hendrickson the brains behind the insanity, and the rest of the contributing writers who made me laugh so much that I urinated on myself too often to count. Most images are compliments of Brian Hendrickson. Fishheads was a free bimonthly publication distributed in Indianapolis, Bloomington and those parts of Carmel not controlled by Waldenbooks or its army of slobbering trolls. Contributers will not be paid, nor will they be tolerated or spoken to or given the time of day or cleaned with a damp cloth. We will, however, sex them up. Fishheads reserves the right to club you in the knee if you question or newfound devotion to God. Fisheads reserves the right to shamelessly manipulate our image in an obvious attempt to win public favor and get back in Waldenbooks. We want to assure Waldenbooks that we had nothing to do with the satanic issue and offer our former teammate a sincere apology and a big hug. And if that doesn't work, we'll file a $25 million lawsuit. Oh go ahead and steal. What do we care. It's not like we could afford a lawyer to sue you. We're pretty much defenseless. So feel free. Put out a magazine and call it Fishheads. Start using our names. Move into our houses, sleep with our wives and claim our kids as your own. Wear our clothes, eat our food, walk our dogs. Drive our cars, spend our money, drink our beer. Walk all over us and laugh while you do it. We're so pathetic we make ourselves sick. But someday the worm will turn. And on that fateful day then shall we rise up and smite down our tormentors with the wrath of the righteous and in so doing strain several ligaments in our shoulder and call forth "Ow" and be very sore for several days, possibly a fortnight, and then shall we resort to whining until such time as it drives those that have tresspassed against us straight out of their minds. So just watch it smart guy.