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Capital of Nasty Vol. 05 Issue 08
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume V, Issue 8, AD MM
Monday, June 26, 2000
ISSN 1482-0471
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"The poor vt100 was taunted unfairly by all the workstations at
school; they would tape signs that said "BOOT ME" and "I AM A
DUMB TERMINAL -- PLEASE TYPE SLOWLY" on its back."
-- Truman Boyes
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`What? Your balls fell off and said "let's blow this joint" and
were last
seen walking towards the door?'
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1. Editorial
2. I Write Therefore I Am
3. Shaft One Bad Mother...
4. I want my MPFree
5. Big Green Coffee
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This week's Golden Testicle award:
http://www.buttcandle.com/
The... uh... gentle alternative
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1. Editorial
By Leandro "I'm not bitter" Asnaghi-Nicastro
In the office I work at, the programming department has a new face
every day. I take it the working environment in there is pure shit
because they are only happy during the last two weeks, when they've
handed in their resignations. People come and go so fast I don't
even bother getting to know them anymore. I just start theorizing
how long it will take for so-and-so to turn from happy (I have a
job!) to pissed off (this job sucks!) to eventually that happy (I'm
quitting!) stage again.
Occasionally there is some new guy that walks into the office and
you don't even bother to acknowledge his presence. Mostly because
by tomorrow he's probably gone, and besides, from where I am sitting
I can't even see them, much less hear them.
But there is this one guy that for some reason, the moment I saw
him, I developed strong feelings of hate for him. It's not just I
don't like him because he's done something wrong. No, nothing silly
like that. He's done nothing wrong. He's always well dressed.
He's educated. He speaks with manners and is never rude. Yet I
hate this guy's fucking guts.
At first I kept hearing that little inner voice inside of me that
reminds me that I'm doing something bad. You know, you say to
yourself how nice your fist would look on this guy's face, and that
little voice says something your mother or your teacher would say:
"That's horrible. How could you think that?" I don't know. How
could I? Am I the only one with homicidal urges? Besides, I hate
that little voice in my head. Some of the voices in my head I
really like to listen to because they pump up both me and my ego,
but that little voice, the voice of sanity as I like to call it,
always reminds me that in our society certain things just can't be
done. I listen to it mostly because I like to keep the paycheque
coming to support my habits.
Unfortunately for me at the moment, and eventually for him, I keep
bumping into buddy. He's always around. I always see that grin of
his. Sometimes I see his face and I can see a little bit of myself
in him, and I wonder, thanks to my great previous schooling as a
psychologist, if that's the reason I hate him. Maybe, I think, it's
that snotty grin on his face I want to wipe off with a 12 gauge. Or
maybe it's because he sort of remotely looks like me.
But I think I'm slowly starting to figure out why I hate him. Every
time I go to the lunch room, he's there. He is sitting in front of
the TV playing a game on the Dreamcast. Every time. I could get up
right now and go check, and I'm sure buddy would be there playing
the game.
"Is this a valuable reason for me to shove that controller up his
arse?" I ask, and I often hear all the little voices but one say
"yes".
Out of random curiosity I asked a few other people that work here
(and haven't quit yet), what they thought of the guy. Well, they
hate him too. They don't know why. I felt much better about this,
because it meant that I wasn't the only one with homicidal impulses
screaming through my brain waiting for that one little last drop to
go wild and take half of the office with me before the cops shoot me
down like a rabid dog.
Me and my newly discovered friend in hate started questioning other
people. To our surprise three more people reported their hate for
him. Our group grew quite large. We happily determined that the
guy must just have no charisma. Maybe he was Hitler in his previous
life. Maybe we should do a support group for others that feel the
same about him. Either way, he won't know what hit him when the
time to strike arrives.
Akido responds to my editorial:
To Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro
Ha, you think you have troubles. I started divorse in 1972. Later
same year, X goes to Social Security and tells them that I am dead
and files a claim before the divorse was final, collects from them,
collects from me. They collect from me (happily for years without a
whimper @ last a productive corpse). They neglect to tell me that I
am dead, just take the tax money and credit the account. All is
well until I move to overseas for 15 years and then make the mistake
of coming home. They still take my tax money (joyous again), they
even issue me a new card for the one I lost in the move back, but
any time I try to open up a bank account anywhere I turn up dead
again on their (and the bank's) computers. It goes on and on to
even siller side streams and creeks of hilarity but I am sure you
get the picture. Basically a corpse since '72 is still paying
taxes, can get new cards, fill out their stupid forms to correct it
multi times, father and raise a child as a single father, she can
get her card though she gets it and her citizenship through me (neat
trick that one), but I am dead anytime I try to open a bank account.
Gottcha.
Samantha Craggs retorts:
Upon reading Jeff Wright's review of Titus, I just wanted to say
that the man rocks. Titus was the most underrated movie of the year.
I drove two hours to see it, saw it and then drove two hours home
again, and I didn't regret a minute of it. My only beef is that Jeff
didn't mention Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who I am currently stalking, in
addition to the owner of the Scriba.org domain. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
plays Chiron and there is a small scene where he and his brother
Demetrius frolick on the bed. The guy sitting next to me got up and
walked out. Titus comes out on video in August, so everyone rent it.
I also thought it was interesting that Leandro sits on washing
machines for fun. What a coincidence! That is exactly how I like to
spend a Friday night. Other things I do for fun are:
1. Practice making fax and modem noises.
2. Dressing up as Madonna in different phases of her career and
dancing for the cat.
3. Dressing up the cat as Madonna in different phases of her career.
4. Sitting very close to the fan and saying into it "Luke, I am your
father."
5. Making lists of animals I would like to some day have as pets.
6. Four words: Al Waxman Film Festival!
7. Devising ways to get my hands on Leonadro DiCaprio's e-mail
address.
8. Writing "Justin Timberlake is a knobjockey" on fan-based N'Sync
message boards.
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2. I Write Therefore I Am
By Samantha Craggs
Today I handed over a manila envelope containing five of my best
short stories and the first chapter of my newly-completed novel to a
reporter who works in the same newsroom as me. Entrusting her with
these documents was like handing over a chunk of my personality.
"Thanks," she said. "I've never known a real writer."
"Don't call me a writer," I said. "Until I've published something,
it's embarrassing."
Being interested in an art or craft that takes forever to see any
gain from is like living in a cabin in the middle of the mountains.
There is no one else around if disaster strikes, and you spend most
of the time wondering what the rest of the world is doing. Sometimes
I wonder if I am even any good at writing. If rejection letters are
any indication, I'm not. I've been published a couple of times, but
nothing that I would be anxious to show people - an e-zine here,
someone's little literary mag there. It is not what I had in mind.
Trying to be successful and failing, at least for now, is the same
sort of heartache as longing for someone you can never be with.
We've all heard the old story that John Grisham got up at 5 a.m.
every morning to write and sent his first manuscript to 26 different
publishers before it got accepted. When I tell that to fellow
unpublished writers, they say "Blech. I hate John Grisham." But
that's not really the point... You can hate him all you want, but
he is a writer and we're not.
A lot of writers I know treat what they do with overblown reverence,
as if the world would collapse if they weren't around to observe it.
But when you're an unknown whose publishing credits are basically a
couple of stories in someone's e-zine, it's more like needlepoint.
You sit there for hours, deep in concentration, making your hands
sore over a pillow cushion that will never make you any money. Maybe
you can show it to a couple of your friends, and they'll smile and
say it's nice, but it will never net the amount of time and effort
you put into it. It's just something you do because you love to do
it. If you don't love to do it, you stop.
Sometimes I think about all of the other things I could be doing if
I weren't sitting here creating characters and plots and making new
Microsoft Word documents. Maybe I'd play on a baseball team. Maybe
I'd find a better job. But not writing would be like feeling the
pains of an amputated limb. It would always be there, hovering over
you, because if you stop now, everything has been in vain.
A former acquaintance of mine used to want to talk to me about
writing because he figured our experiences were one and the same.
Except he would add that he hadn't written anything in two years
because he hadn't had the time. As if that was the reason why he
wasn't a writer: free time. All the free time in the world will not
get you where you need to be with writing. Only experience and pure,
balls-out determination will. It's like being 15 and wanting more
than anything in the world to drive a car. You can't force it. You
have to let it happen on its own, and when the opportunity presents
itself, you work your ass off in Driver's Ed.
If you want to know the truth, sometimes I hate writing. If I could
walk away tomorrow and never experience another rejection letter, or
someone saying "Please consider us again with more material" when
what I sent them was the best I could do, I would. I would trade the
self loathing and the scrutiny for a lifetime of not giving a shit,
and never again ending a letter with "I look forward to hearing from
you at your earliest convenience." I don't know why I can't.
------
Samantha Craggs has never seen Die Hard. Visit the homepage:
http://www.velvet.net/~samantha.
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3. Shaft One Bad Mother...(shut your mouth)ing Movie:
Pseudo Movie Reviews
by Jeff Wright
How ya'll doin? I haven't been watching a lot of movies
lately, so this may be a pretty sparse entry in my oeuvre.
Saw Shaft on Saturday with high hopes, and was let down. I wanted a
badass movie, and what I got was pretty close to an assbad movie.
Okay, it's not that bad; I just wanted to look mildly
retarded/clever in the last sentence. It's just not that good. The
blame has to go to John Singleton. The direction just ain't that
great, and neither is the writing, which he had a hand in. The
script is muddled, and uses the Batman film template of two villains
teaming up to go against one guy.
That being said, the two badguys are the best part of the movie. My
ying to my yang (or yang to my ying, I don't know, don't care), same
name brother, Jeffrey Wright is one hell of a badass, just chewing
up everything around him. Christian Bale is also really good, but
there isn't that much different in the way he carries himself in
this, than how he carried himself in American Psycho (not to say
that they're the same character, cuz there are huge differences).
The other rock-ass part of Shaft is Busta Rhymes, who play's Shaft's
buddy. It's about time he's in a movie. It's just a shame it had
to be this one.
I guess the big question is; "Is Sam, the man?" I guess so. It's
just that there's nothing for him to do. I mean, he doesn't even
get laid except for during the title sequence. Shaft has to get
laid.
Oh well. The main problem with Shaft is its shitty, shitty script.
There're too many complications that don't need to be there. I
would've been able to watch Shaft happily on video, I think. It'll
be a decent rental when it comes out.
On to the next movie. Before anyone gets a chance, I'll say it
myself. I'm an idiot. I watched 2001 for the first time on Friday
night. I had tried before (4 times if memory serves me correctly),
but the first 30 minutes or so is so damn relaxing, that I always
got drowsy, and eventually fell asleep. Well, I skipped what I had
seen already, and made it through the rest. Holy fucking shit
cocks!!! (I don't know either) It's such an amazing film. It never
really looked like a Kubrick film to me, from what I had seen, but
I'll be damned if it isn't right up there with my favourite Kubrick
films. That being said, my favourite Kubrick films are pretty much
all of them (Save EWS ((which is improving upon each viewing)), and
his first 3 films), trying to take first place at anytime. My
favourite is probably Barry Lyndon, but I don't know if I'd go on
record with that. Especially with the number or people who hate it.
Anyways, if you haven't seen 2001, please do. Also, please make
sure you watch it only in a widescreen version. I know I'm a
stickler for original aspect ratios and all, but this film will not
be the same film, formatted for that gay little square +.33 on two
sides, tv aspect ratio. I'm dying to see it in a theatre now, and
damn well better be able to before the end of the year. Everyone in
NY, I hate you! I want a Kubrick film festival like you had.
Bastards, got brand new prints of Barry Lyndon; and The Shining to
boot. BASTARDS!!!!!!! Each and every one of ya's.
Next week, The Talented Mr. Ripley comes out on video (or it may
have been this week, I'm going by the DVD date). Do yourselves a
favour and rent it. It's a great film, that I'm hoping will find an
appreciation on video, since it isn't very well liked from what I
gather.
Just wanted to chime in with a CD recommendation, before I throw the
keyboard across the room. I just got the new Eminem CD today, and
it's funny as hell. "Stan" damn well better be the next single.
The video that could be made for that song. Oh god!!! What's
Eminem's address? I'm gonna kidnap his wife and fucking kid, so I
can direct that video. Cuz writing a letter, obviously ain't gonna
do me no good.
---
Jeff doesn't have anything even the slightest bit amusing to say
(How's that any different from usual? True, and fuck you!)
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4. I Want My MPFree
By John Iadipaolo
Mere months ago, 75% of the public was content in knowing that, if
they put their treasured Britney Spears CD into their computer, it
would play. Now, suddenly, people are talking about MP3s--sound
files that offer audio quality comparable to a compact disc, but at
a fraction of the size of a ripped CD track. Thanks to everyone
from Time magazine to the New York Post, the same person who was
content listening to 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' on their Spears CD
can now duplicate and trade the entire album over the net using free
products like RealJukebox and Napser in a matter of minutes. The
process is quick, easy- and 100% free.
Now, I wrote this article because I want to say that, yes, I
download illegal MP3s onto my computer. I own few of the albums
that I download songs from, I pass out songs to my friends, and
generally - according to a lot of angry people- cheat artists and
record companies out of a lot of money. But before you scroll down
the document to find another article (preferably one that wasn't
written by an asshole), or better yet, write in to flame me for
being a cheapskate, wait a moment. I'm not looking to start any
controversy- although I think it would thrive in an ezine like CoN.
I want to explain, and perhaps defend, my use of MP3s, because some
of us aren't taking advantage of this whole 'free music' situation
they way it is being portrayed in the media.
First off, in no way am I defending those wonderful individuals who
download entire albums in lieu of buying them. Likewise, everyone
who pirates games should have their colons sucked dry with an
industry-strength vacuum cleaner. I'd hate to think that someone
out there was taking something I poured a piece of my life into
creating, using it as they pleased, and denying me of rightful
payment. [Note to reader of CoN: Send us $$$ :)]. That's not how
it's done, and anyone who tries to tell me that they have a 'right'
to product without payment can- for lack of a wittier insult- screw
themselves. People like that make it really difficult for hard
working individuals to earn a living and support their talents.
....But that's exactly what I'm doing, right?
Well, yes and no. As I said, I'm constantly downloading new,
copyrighted songs that I have not paid for and have no intention of
ever paying for. Many of you will probably say that I'm stealing.
Maybe I am. But consider the following: about 75% of the songs I
download are singles. These are songs that have been released to
promote the album and radio stations and television programs play
them constantly for a few weeks before discarding them for something
new. This is what I do as well. A new single will rotate through
my playlist for a month at most before I delete it. The majority of
these bands will never be heard from again and their albums are of
dubious quality to say the least. Are they losing any money if I
make it more convenient for myself to listen to the very song they
released to the public to hear? Hey, occasionally I'll become
intrigued with one of the aforementioned artists whose singles I'm
'borrowing' and download a few more tracks from the album. If I
like it, I'll buy it. If not, then I can delete the offending songs
and be content knowing I didn't waste a trip down to the mall or go
through the hassles of returning an unwanted CD. Believe it or not,
but some artists have actually benefited from my 'illegal
activities'. I never would have become a fan of older acts like Pink
Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles and Supertramp without fast,
convenient MP3s.
So what accounts for the other 25% of mydownloads? The majority are
bootlegs/live versions of songs I already own or unreleased material
by bands I love. For example, The Smashing Pumpkins have recorded
literally hundreds of songs in the their eleven year history (a
history which is sadly coming to an end, but that's a rant for
another article). I own all seven of their commercially released
albums, but there are still a large collection of tracks that have
never been released or were only played live. By downloading these
songs, I get to enjoy new material by my favourite band as well as
gaining new perspectives on their music. I would buy the right to
listen to these songs if I could, but that's not an option, so I'm
certainly not going to resist the download because of an annoying
copyright.
Occasionally, I do download entire albums. I actually had full
copies of the new Smashing Pumpkins album and the debut from A
Perfect Circle months before they were released in stores. If I was
a real thief, I could have made CD-R copies of the albums and
generated quite a bit of income selling them to interested fans- but
I didn't. Instead, I listened to the albums, and when they came out
in stores I promptly bought them because I enjoyed the music.
In the end, my opinion doesn't really count for much. I'm just
rationalising my habits so I won't feel bad whilst I'm 'stealing'
someone's music. Either way, the music industry will adapt to the
Internet and find a new way to force people to pay for the music
they listen to. Or programmers and hackers will make it so
difficult to stop music pirating that the whole system will
collapse: Freenet, created by a 23-year-old British programmer,
offers total anonymity for users sharing files (which is nice if you
don't feel like paying for that new Blink182 album AND you also
happen to be a terrorist who dabbles in child pornography on the
side!) Arrgh. In the mean time, I feel like listening to
'Comfortably Numb' again before I head to the gym.
---
John Iadipaolo is excited about something. Problem is, he can't
remember what it was.
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5. Big Green Coffee
By Jason MacIsaac
A song parody of "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
With plenty of grinders and a bunch of fake arthouse schmucks
Do we need another one?
There was a bookstore but now it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop-bop
They had just one, not too far down the street
And now it seems they have to put one up every fifteen feet
Don't it always seem to go
That they keep expanding out of control
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop-bop
Hey Mr. CEO, I think that's enough now
Everywhere I look, I see Gap, Blockbuster, Microsoft and AOL
Geez!
Didn't it once seem before
That we actually had a choice in our stores
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
I say, they paved paradise and they put up a Starbucks
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got till it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop
Yesterday I saw another wrecking ball land
And a big green coffee knocked down my favorite burger stand!
I don't mean to have a cow
But where am I gonna get my lunch now?
They paved paradise and they put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got till it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop
Oh, now, they paved Starbucks and they put up a parking lot
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop
Hey, steam rolled paradise and put up a Starbucks
Shoo-bop-bop-bop-bop
---
Jason MacIsaac apologizes profusely to Joni Mitchell.
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CoN would not be possible without the great help of Scriba Org.
CoN: Build a man a fire, you keep him warm for the night.
Set a man on fire, and you keep him warm for the rest of his life.
Sam C.
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine "media you can abuse"
In memory of Father Ross "Padre" Legere
Published every second Monday (or when we get around it)
Disclaimer: unintentionally offensive
Comments, queries and submissions are welcome
http://www.capnasty.org ISSN 1482-0471
A bi-weekly electronic journal. Subscriptions available at no cost
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