In the late early mid-90s, I, along with a girl name Charlie, my friend Claire, an artist named Mike, our young mascot, Nads, and a couple other ne’er-do-well rebellious  young teens, put out an anonymous zine at Tulsa’s Booker T. Washington High School called “Butyraceous,” a funky-sounding name meaning “having the salubrious qualities of butter.” […]