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Capital of Nasty Vol. 03 Issue 22
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume III, Issue 22, AD MCMXCVIII
Thursday, December 31st, 1998
ISSN 1482-0471
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Don't u just hate it too when toietpaper tears lengthwise?
-- Arno van Boven
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Right now you think that everything is okay because you have your fancy
car, money, committing fornication, and adultery, stealing, killing, bear
false witness against your neighbor, you covet everything your neighbor
has, and you think everything is okay. You know, and I know that it is
not okay, because the most important thing is missing, and you know what
that is. It is God, the most high. Without God you're nothing and you
know that.
For a free holy bible and/or movies, please call 555-2345.
-- Flyer left taped to a phone booth at Secord and Danforth, Toronto.
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1. Editorial
2. Uniforms
3. God, Religion & All That Crap
4. Where are you going after your passing?
5. CoN at the Movies
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This week's Golden Testicle award:
Elvis Killed Kennedy
http://home.pacbell.net/hrwhite3
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1. Editorial
by CoN Staff
LAST ISSUE FOR Volume III, and following a typical pattern of tradition,
this issue is late also. With the burden of Christmas on our backs, we
ask but one gift from the readership, spam this issue to all of the
blokes on your address book. Spread the gift of CoN.
The first e-mail is from Arno van Boven:
From: Arno van Boven
To: con@capnasty.org
Date sent: Mon, 21 Dec 1998 15:53:18
Subject: Re: Capital of Nasty III.21
Hi,
about the size of CoN: i dont care if its long, i will simply pick
some articles that interest me:) (whoops a smiley:) About the lenght
of the articles: yes, i usually skip the long ones. I am not
interested in the twistedmindedness of some deranged teenager, nor
touched by the 'terrible suffering' he or she has to go thru. If ppl
want to view the world as if it were a (any, really) Hollywood movie
or some inane TV show, fine with me, but i'll skip it, thank you.
Well, i can't think of a better example to illustrate my digust over
that perception of life than what Willy Clinton did: bombs for a
blowjob, live on CNN, and we'll be back after the break. Sex,
shootings and commercials. What a fabulous way of living. I say don't
impeach him, but drown him in his own cum.
Anyways, I loved Jason's review of ST/Insurrection. It's not out here
yet, so i havent seen it:( Good point u have on ST's makers denial of
other SciFi. U seen Voyager's Scorpion double episode? Concept was
kinda nice, yes, it had the Borg in them, but the idea of an alliance
with the Borg was kinda nice and well worked-out imho. But that
species 8427 (8??7 whatever), was it just me or did you too expect
Sigourney Weaver to jump out of a closet any minute now? Or a
jefferies tube, for that matter..
Well, one has to give Berman and co. credit for (re)creating a special
feel to the whole ST series, it's not the shameless ripping of ideas
like in X-files. Well, of course it is, but i think the 'soap' level
is high enough to ensure a laugh or two every episode and justify the
-let's say not very inspired- storylines. The technobabble u just got
to love, don't u? I mean, what on earth is a multiphasic graviton
pulse? Or a polaron beam? I just rotfl when they remodulate the
forward shields to a rotating frequency. Again. But then, I may be
opinionated due to heavy gravimetric distortion, or perhaps I cant get
a lock on my brain due to electromagnetic interference in the planets
atmosphere, who knows? Time to realign my plasma coils *grin*
Warp regards & signature,
arno
P.S. Don't u just hate it too when toietpaper tears lengthwise?
---
Don Fitch also shares with us his thoughts:
From: Don Fitch S
Date sent: Mon, 21 Dec 1998 04:23:25
To: leandro@capnasty.org
Subject: Re: CoN III.21
>CoN Editorial would love to hear your input about the SIZE of
>this issue.
If I write: "It's not the SIZE that counts, it's what you do with it"
fast enough, maybe it won't sound like a long-dead cliche. When it
comes to response, I don't think it's length, number of items, or even
quality, so much as "comment hooks". Something can be really great,
or highly-enjoyable, and still not drive me to the keyboard to knock
out a letter of comment. A really inspired typo (none of your mere
misspellings), on the other hand....
I did intend to respond to the (almost all) Gay Issue, though. In
retrospect, I realize that I was propositioned by Gays at least three
times while in college, but was too naive to realize it. What was
memorable, was getting propositioned about 5 years ago, when I was 65,
by some guy who must've been about 50. It was in a mixed Gay &
Straight neighborhood bar in West Hollywood, where I might expect to
be approached by young hustlers (gray hair = money = potential
"client" in that neighborhood, though a simple "sorry, I don't Trick"
is adequate to get rid of them), but this guy obviously wasn't
proposing a commercial transaction, and I really can't imagine a
stranger thinking of me as an attractive/physically desirable person,
despite my /m/a/n/y/ other virtues. I felt (probably correctly) that
he saw me not as a person, but as an object to be used for his
gratification, and I was rather disturbed by this, but managed to
refuse politely.
It reminded me of an account in a fanzine by a young (20-ish, &
Straight) friend about 30 years ago. He'd spent an evening with a
mutual (Bi) acquaintance and wrote something like; "He wanted to
cuddle, and I didn't. Now I have a better understanding of how girls
I've dated felt when I wanted to cuddle and they didn't".
>let's take red meat which will slowly harden your arteries and
>lets infest it with smoke... hmmm lung AND heart damage, all in
>one meal. Gimme more.
Let's not get Carried Away, here. Red meat -- the tough, not-marbled-
with-tasty-fat kind I usually decide to afford -- doesn't harm the
arteries (according to my cardiologist), and smoke residue intaken
through the stomach doesn't affect the lungs. (There seem to be no
good statistics relating it to stomach cancer, either, though I'll try
to remember to check with my oncologist about that during the next
appointment.)
>[...] the toilet is within earshot... [...] you missed... you
>couldn't just hit the floor... no you had to hit the textured
>wall paper...
I used to go to Dixieland Jazz Jam Session Parties (with lots of beer,
to compound the problem) at the home of a friend who had a bathroom
like that. Finally settled for dropping my pants and sitting down to
piss.
>I know some providers have some sort of program that stops a
>mail from going through the system if it's riddled with
>profanity.
I've not heard evidence of any large ISPs reading email, and suspect
that even the rumor that AOL has computers that check for Prohibited
Words in email (as well as on its internal "bulletin boards" &cet) is
an untrue vile canard. (I'm sure there are plenty of _true_ vile
canards to be said about AOL, mind you.) The chances of an actual
person reading any particular email, en route, is vanishingly small
simply because the volume is so great. OTOH, I'm perfectly willing to
believe that the US Government (CIA/FBI/BATF) has ways of checking
even "private" email for certain words, and uses them. I'm almost
tempted to start using a sig.file.
>The truth is that we have no-one to blame but ourselves for
>letting the 'net become a place that any idiot can join.
Gee, you mean I ought to resign? Or is usenet not included? (I hang
out mostly in some newsgroups and Lists where many of the participants
are people I've known since long before arpanet days, and some are
Caballeros ("There's no Cabal, but...") with cancelbots so there's
virtually no spam.) Personally, I don't find that the presence of
(ever so many) idiots on the 'net/WWW is bad enough to counterbalance
the Good Stuff. But then, I don't mind the trash in bookstores,
either. It would be nice, though, to have some more dependable
Filters and Critics, so the Good Stuff on the 'net could be found more
easily.
>Send this page to all the people you know by forwarding the URL
>in e-mail, ICQ, AIM, or any other means at your disposal.
Yeah, I understand there's been talk about declaring "send this to
everyone you know" messages "a human-vectored email virus" and taking
steps to classify it with spam & unsolicited advertising, but the idea
of prohibiting _anything_ is not appealing, so they'll probably try
the basic approach of educating everyone to view it as a ridiculously
newbie-ish thing, on the theory that ridicule is often an effective
social corrective technique.
Jason MacIsaac doesn't seem to have had much success with "The Search
for Mr. Muggs" via URLs, but I'll wager there are several usenet
newsgroups dealing with children's literature; maybe he should try
deja news, or even posting (inaccurate information about it, which is
the surest way to elicit responses) in an appropriate newsgroup.
And maybe I should go to bed.
Best wishes to all there for the Holidays & the New Year,
Don Fitch
--
alt.con.questionnaire
1. Why do you read CoN?
2. How do you read CoN?
3. Where do you read CoN?
4. What do you want in CoN?
OUR NEXT ISSUE will deal about the Y2K bug.
Have a skoodly one.
-------------------------------------------
2. Uniforms
by Jason MacIsaac
This anecdote actually has merit even today, at my current job.
People who design uniforms for companies have a special reservation for a
table in Hell. I'm starting my own fanatical hate group against them.
We're going to terrorize them and their families at night, and burn
crosses on their lawns. We're going to dress in white sheets with white
hoods, spotted bowties, and a button that says "Ask me about gift
certificates!"
Apparently, the principal qualification for a job designing uniforms is
to be colour blind, have fashion sense from 1973, and have skin like a
lizard, so you really don't care what kind of fabric is put against your
skin.
Let's begin this by mentioning that we had to pay for our uniforms. You
can always tell how bad a company is by the amount of money that it makes
directly off employees. We changed uniforms on a regular basis too,
sometimes every few months. If a special promotion required (required,
ha ha) a new uniform, were charged for that too.
That, like nearly everything else, made us bitter.
Gretchen's had a habit of picking uniforms completely inappropriate and
impractical for the job, too. If Gtretchen's were to design clothing for
a space walk, the air tube would have been in the crotch, and the helmet
would have this nice lace mesh instead of a faceplate.
For example, restaurant work is messy work. The messiest job is line
cook, followed by bussing, and fountaineer. Cooks worked around a grille
that spat grease, pot of spaghetti sauce, grease, oil...you get the idea.
Bussers cleaned tables after customers had left behind half-eaten food,
(the other half sometimes was a pool of vomit left on the seat), spilled
drinks and ketchup...Fountainers worked around a mixing machine that
frequently fired chocolate and blue berry sauce all over its operator.
For most of the time I worked at Gretchen's the uniform was white.
After a twelve hour shift of slamming together 50 orders in the space of
three minutes, or speed-cleaning a dozen tables while the hostess tapped
her foot with a family of five behind her, you can imagine how some of
these white shirts looked. In particular, my secret of keeping the
fountain clean was to get as much of the mess on the counters on my
uniform instead.
It would be no big deal, really. Most restaurant managers would look at
you and say, "That shirt's too stained to wear. Here, here's a fresh new
one."
But not ours. Ours would say "That shirt's too stained to wear. Here,
here's a fresh new one. That'll be 30 dollars please."
Nice, huh? Some of us were able to stave off this charge temporarily by
bleaching the hell out of our uniforms...only one problem. The collars
were dyed, and the restaurant logo was embroidered on one pocket.
Sometimes even the strongest bleach wouldn't get rid of a blueberry
stain, but it seemed like a sudden breeze was enough to get the dye off
the collars of those damn shirts.
We weren't allowed to wear shirts with faded collars either. Thirty
bucks, please.
Well, the problem is that the server has to do all things at one time or
another. He or she has to tend bar, bus tables, make desserts...And
since the restaurant was always understaffed, they would have dive into
the grease or chocolate and do things themselves--while a full section of
tables waited. With this kind of pressure on, there was no time to be
neat. If a full team of servers with a complete support staff was there,
then it wouldn't be such a big deal to them. Their shirts would go
through normal wear and tear, and maybe the occasional whoopsie. But it
wasn't like that. Servers would run around like madmen, getting messed
up. The company would save money from understaffing, and then collect
another $30 to issue a clean shirt.
The crowning glory of it all was the name tag.
I find this whole name tag business highly suspect anyway. If I had my
way, customers wouldn't know my name at all. Once, a server told me that
a table thought they recognized me and wanted to know what my last name
was. I told the server to tell them my last name was "The Evil Overlord"
and they could go to Hell. It's bad enough I had to serve some of these
people. Having them get to know me better is out of the question.
You're not going to believe the next part of this story. You're going to
think I made it up. Your reaction will be "No, no company could be that
oppressive, or come up with such an inherently stupid idea." Wake up,
kindergarten baby.
Gretchen was a 1950s theme diner. We had jukeboxes. They played a
variety of songs from the 1950 to the 1990s. Once, a dipshit
motherfucker (i.e. someone from head office) came and noticed that "Black
Hole Sun" by Soundgarden was playing. Needless to say, that wasn't
recorded in 1955. So, as part of a plan to a) return the restaurant to
its original concept;
an b) apparently drive away our few remaining customers, they made a
whole list of sweeping changes.
First, they got rid of any song recorded from 1980 and up. Never mind
that people were dropping lots of quarters into the jukebox to hear songs
like "Black Hole Sun."
Second, they tried to get us to dress more like the 50s.
The name tags were large, plastic things with some kind of food item on
it-a burger, a hot dog, a sundae. They also had a name on them... now
here's the kicker.
It wasn't your name.
It was a name head office thought would be "from the 50s"-Arnold, Potzie,
Frank, even a Fonzie. Female names included "Annie, LaVerne, Shirley..."
thank God they drew the line at "Squiggy."
When asked which one I wanted, I asked if they had any that had "Jason"
on them. "Jason" is the name of a Greek hero, and was popular long
before "Potzie" came to prominence. We're talking about Ancient Times
here, so kiss my ass, Potzie, I've got seniority.
I wasn't the only one who thought that the idea was oppressive, cynical,
and degrading. Management wondered why people like me "got all uptight"
about it.
It also defeated a name tag's only useful function. Customers would flag
down other servers and ask if they could speak to their server.
"Well, who's your server?"
"Potzie."
Well who the fuck is Potzie? And since they apparently couldn't think of
enough names to outfit the entire restaurant, they're might be several
Potzies on the floor. Smart policy all around.
Before I stopped wearing my name tag altogether, I did have some fun with
it. I don't remember what it said originally, but I had my printer print
the label "Ragle Gumm" in a nice font, and pasted it over what ever had
been there before.
"Ragle Gumm" is the protagonist of the novel Time Out of Joint by Philip
K. Dick, one of my favorite authors. In the book, Ragle is harboring the
paranoid delusion the idyllic small 1950s middle America town isn't real,
but a mock-up designed to keep him prisoner. His paranoid delusion is
correct.
Sometimes, for variety, I would put "Number 6" in tribute to The Prisoner
starring Patrick McGoohan.
But you know, it got worse, particularly for the waitresses.
The apron is an essential part of a server's attire. It holds pens,
maybe a notepad, our key, which is used to access the computer to ring in
an order, credit cards, cash from sales, and maybe, just maybe, our tips.
Originally the apron was a short, three-pocket deal. Between the pockets
was a seam that you could stash a pen in (usually we secured our keys to
pens). Some of the aprons had velcro tabs to hold the pockets closed,
but not all. It didn't really matter. You tied it to your waist and it
sat securely, and you rarely lost anything. It was black and it had the
Gretchen's logo embroidered in red in one corner. It was simple,
tasteful as far as restaurant attire went, and one of the few things we
didn't complain about.
For Fountaineers like myself, there was nothing much to keep in them.
Our pants were black, so they didn't need any stain protection.
Then, the support staff and female waitresses had their aprons replaced.
For us fountain and busser types, we got this longer body apron, which
covered just above the solar plexus and down to your knees. While
wearing a white shirt, it helped prevent the more serious stains-for
awhile. Then, as the summer days rolled around, an unfortunate
unforeseen complication. We switched to summer dress, which meant
shorts. My shorts ended just above the knee. The apron of course, went
lower. Plus, I used to wear a sturdy pair of Mark II Combat boots on the
job (I bought them at a surplus store. I figured if they could hand a
tour in Vietnam, they could handle Gretchen's). With the apron down so
slow, I looked like I was wearing a dress. With the boots, I looked like
some crazy Goth Chick with a beard.
It wasn't long before I put on the old apron again.
Now, the female staff had it far worse. They used to use the same
functional apron everyone else did. But for some reason, Head Orifice
didn't think this was appropriate, and issued a frilly one.
I should qualify the statement "frilly." Don't think frilly in terms of
a lingerie or a French Maid outfit. That conjures up images of frill
upon frill, like those crazy baby blue tuxedoes. These had frills-four
frills, to be exact. It was longer and looser than the original apron,
and it hung down to their knees. They tried to roll it up, but it would
always slip, and credit card slips and money would fall out.
The waitresses, understandably, were furious. It was degrading, but not
nearly as degrading as it could have been-the damn thing failed on even
it's pathetic terms. It was black and made of the same fabric as our
pants-some synthetic fibre. With just four frills and it hanging limply,
it looked about as feminine as a testicle. About the only time it looked
vaguely female is when the two pockets were full of change-then it looked
like an udder. Not the kind of female I think they were going for, and
not the kind of female most women choose to project.
Because it was black, you couldn't really define it against the pants
they wore. Many waitresses just went back to their old aprons, and would
go unnoticed for weeks.
And there's the small matter of it being utterly sexist, and being a
labor rights violation.
I'm not going to spout off about my politics here (though I reserve the
right at a later date), but it seems to be that too many people think
that prior to 1960, things really sucked for women and blacks--jokes at
their expense, being corralled into rigidly defined roles, and getting
paid less than everyone else. But in the 60s sometime there was a social
revolution, and now everything's okay for women and blacks. So since
things are equally, we can all go ahead and make jokes at their expense,
corral them into rigidly defined roles, and pay them less than everyone
else.
This apron showed just how insensitive and out of touch Head Orifice was
with its employees, and the 20th Century. The aprons were clearly
inferior to the task. They were a useful, almost essential tool for the
work. If they had just recalled them all and issued the new one, then it
would have been bad judgement. Because they took it from just the women,
it was something else altogether.
In other worlds, not only was the thing degrading, but it was a tool that
was inferior to the job. The male servers were issued a better tool,
solely on the basis of gender. No, it's not as severe as deliberately
paying a woman less for the same amount of work, but it is in the same
vein. A vein that's part of a wrist that should be slashed.
Do I think Head Orifice was pursuing a hidden agenda as part of a
greater, world campaign to rob women of empowerment? No. To do that
they would have to be smart. They didn't it simply because of their
idiocy.
Head Orifice was almost as ineffectual at enforcing their policies as
they were creating them, so it wasn't long before most of the female
servers has delegated the frilly apron to dishrag duty and got their old
faithful one out again.
I was running a healthy underground market of male aprons. With the
servers I was close to, such as the incomparable Miss White, I simply
made a trade. And for a time, I wore a frilly apron.
I'm not a transvestite, but I did attend a public screening of The Rocky
Horror Picture Show with a genuine, Bona Fide Transvestite, once. I was
dressed as a woman too, but not a very good one. This guy was actually
kinda attractive. But I digress.
I wore that frilly apron for a long time without anyone noticing. Just
goes to show that it just didn't work.
-------------------------------------------
3. God, Religion & All That Crap
By IMPROV
What a perfect time of the year for this subject...my regular
readers (if there are any) may recall that last year at about this time
CoN published an article of mine entitled "Happy Non Denominational
Holiday's", in which I commented on the subject of those of the Jewish
faith who enjoy financial gains thanks to the Christian holidays. I
received many an irate letter concerning my "anti Semitic" views. So
just to prove that I'm not a bigot and that I hate ALL people equally,
here is my knock on the Christian faith.
I actually attempted to become a practicing Catholic at one very
dark point of my life... Please notice the use of "attempted"... Perhaps
it was the particular church I was attending, though. This particular
parish was (and still is) presided over by the most anal priest I have
ever met. (Notice I'm being good and not making any altar boy jokes?) I
mean this man's homilies sounded not just as if he was talking down to
the congregation, but to God himself! This man was so condescending and
arrogant, I'm pretty sure that he thought his unleavened bread didn't
stink.
Mind you, I could be wrong about him, maybe he has every right to
act this way. Maybe he's the greatest theologist in the world, no one
really knows though, because know one in his congregation understands a
damn word has says. I'm sure he's very intelligent, smarter than I'll
ever be...but he doesn't have to make it so apparent by using fourteen
syllable words that I know the eighty year old lady in the second pew has
never even heard.
As for the people who attend church... hmmm... lets see here... I
see a number... and, and a word... ah, yes.......... 95% hypocrites!!!
Why go to church on Sunday to ask the Good Lord for forgiveness for all
the "bad things" you did during the week, just to turn around the next
week and forget what happened at church? Now mind you if you went to the
church I went to it's not really a matter of forgetting, because, after
all, you can't really learn what you never understood:
" ...then once the firmament was congealed, Yahweh gazed upon the vapours
and resolved upon the beseechment of his hegemony that, indeed, there was
inconsiderable delectation consequent to his accomplishments... ah blah
blah... ah blah blah..."
As for Catholicism itself... I guess my biggest beef is with the act
of confession. How in the hell does me telling some guy in a booth my
sins gonna resolve me in the eyes of God? I mean does this guy have a
direct line to the big man himself? Does he call up to heaven and ask
how much penance should be given? How can a (so called) celibate priest
relate to my teenage confession that I copped a feel at the movies with
Judy Anne?
"Uh...forgive me Father for I have sinned... it has been four months
since my last confession... uh... in that time I have touched myself in
an impure manner on several occasions..."
"That's okay my son... SO HAVE I!!!"
So if I don't say those three Hail Mary's...does my record not get wiped
clean? What if I DON"T think it was a sin to grab Judy Ann's booby?
What then, huh? What if I know it was a sin...did it anyway and now I'm
asking for forgiveness? Better yet, what if I knew it was a sin... did
it anyway... went to confession to ask for forgiveness... and went out
and did it AGAIN anyway? What then? What does that make me? Oh yeah...
I forgot... a practicing Catholic.
MERRY FREAKIN' CHRISTMAS
-------------------------------------------
4. WHERE ARE YOU GOING AFTER YOUR PASSING?
By Jeff Wright
H E double L. My mother taught me not to cuss... or was it your
mother? I'm not sure, but anywho... Who's going to H E double L? You?
Me? Him? Her? I don't know, so I couldn't tell you. But I've
developed a 3 question questionaire for you to answer. From the answers
you send in, I'll be able to tell you if your some of your future
workmates will be Hitla, Shmitla, and the rest of them Nazee bastardos
once your time on this planet is over.
So here goes. Good luck, hopefully there aren't that many of you
going to H E double L. If unfortunately, you are amongst those who are,
worry not. If you have access to the internet, you have access to CoN.
We're the only publication that will distribute to H E double L, besides
Soap Opera Digest. Which would you prefer to read?
Question One:
What's your sexual orientation?
Question Two:
What's your racial background?
Question Three:
Have you ever molested a child, killed, or raped?
Send your answers to me at abu@pathcom.com, and in next issue I'll
compile a list of readers who are going to H E double L, and who are
going to A BETTER PLACE (a film by Vincent Pereria).
-------------------------------------------
5. Movie Recomendations
By Jeff Wright
Since it's the end of the year, I figured I'd compile my top 10 films of
1998, and put it here. When looking at the list, keep in mind that there
are still some films that I haven't had a chance to see yet (and want to
see), and from what I've heard, could all take a spot on my list. So
this list is compiled without me having seen the following films (and
there are quite a few):
GODS AND MONSTERS
PRINCE OF EGYPT
BABE PIG IN THE CITY
THE THIN RED LINE
HURLYBURLY
ELIZABETH
RUSHMORE
VELVET GOLDMINE
BULLWORTH
PI
THE SPANISH PRISONER
SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE
THE RED VIOLIN
So here's my 10 favourite films of 1998:
1. HAPPINESS
2. YOUR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS
3. SAVING PRIVATE RYAN
4. A SIMPLE PLAN
5. DARK CITY
6. FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS
7. THE FACULTY
8. AMERICAN HISTORY X
9. LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL
10. BLADE
ARMAGEDDON (tie)
You should go see every one of those films. I'm not going to guarantee
that you'll enjoy them all but hopefully you will.
-------------------------------------------
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In memory of Father Ross "Padre" Legere
Published every second Monday (or when we get around it)
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http://www.capnasty.org ISSN 1482-0471
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