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Capital of Nasty Vol. 02 Issue 17
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume II, Issue 17, Year AD MCMXCVII
Monday, April 29th, 1997
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Women are NOT meant to be understood. If you're a guy and you
feel that you understand them then you should check the gender section
of your birth certificate again.
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I'm sitting here trying to work and I'm becoming more and more
irritated by the sound of drills coming from all around me and I feel
as if my head is going to explode if they don't stop soon and I want
to get out and go to the driller, ask him to lie down on the ground
and jump up and down on his hands until he loses feeling and then I
want to take his drill and throw it out a 40 storey building onto a
highway where it then gets driven over by a Mac truck that crushes the
drill into tiny teeny little pieces that are dragged and scattered
within a ten mile radius and then I realize that the noise is coming
from inside my head and I go Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Goodnight!
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1. Readers' Letters
2. High School Reunion
3. Marvelous: Anarchia in the Cheap Coffee Shop
4. Explicit Language
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This week's Golden Testicle Web Award goes to:
Unincorporated Society of Plastic Sheep (USPS)
http://www.plastic-sheep.org/
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1. Readers' Letters
From: "Sandra M. Pereira" <sandrap@ifront.com>
To: Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro <leandro@ifront.com>
Date sent: Wed, 9 Apr 1997 16:15:58 -0500
Subject: Re: ARE YOU BORED WITH LIFE?
> Are you bored with life?
> Then throw yourself into some work you believe in with all your
> heart, live for it, die for it, and you will find happiness that you
> had thought could never be yours.
Are you bored with work?
Then throw yourself into life that you believe in with all your
heart, work for it, die for it, and you will find happiness that you
had thought could never be yours.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sandra
Old Indian Man: "You even have an Indian name, Fox. Should be
Running Fox or Sleepy Fox..."
Mulder: "So long as it isn't Spooky Fox."
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2. High School Reunion
After only three years since graduation, my high school, St. Patrick C.S.S.
had a reunion. Perhaps a bit too early, but the school had turned 10 years
old, and everyone wanted to celebrate. Well, maybe not everyone considering
the amount of people that bothered to show up. Perhaps not many people
received the invitations -- I for once did not. Others probably couldn't
get their Parol Officer to let them come.
I asked the secretary that sent out the invitations why they did not send
me one.
"WE sent it to you" she sneered.
"Yeah, perhaps you did -- but I still did not get one"
"Well, that's probably because you moved from where you originally lived"
"How can that be" I asked "I haven't moved for the past 7 years"
"Well, we sent them out, and you got here anyway" and she walked away.
For the humble cost of $15 dollars we had a wonderful dinner of lasagna
(the vegetarian one looked exactly the same as the meat lasagna), tender
veal, tasty potatoes and steamed carrots with a crumchy salad. The money
also payed for the mass, local political leaders giving us their speeches,
a nametag and a slide show.
It felt as if I had never left school. Some people where being snobs,
showing off how cool they where (Yeah, you look really good with dyed blonde
hair, and a purple shirt -- oh, I just have to be your friend now that you
turned out so cool). Others would look at me, but for some reason pretend
they had not seen me. This caused me from just walking by them and saying
"hiya.." with very little interest and keep on walking, until they would
stop me with a "Oh, hi Leandro". It was really good to bump in a couple of
other people I had not seen in a while. We went for a walk down memory
lane, talking about the past, the evil things we did, and made fun of the
few people that did bother to show up. With my friends (people that I still
keep in touch even after high school) we bitched and complained of all the
new rooms they have in the basement, the new british green uniforms (from
the former puke green we had to wear), and those anti-Philipino graffiti
blue washrooms.
After waiting for a good hour for our food, we finally were told to get up
and get it. I had a beer, on an empty stomach and found it a little
difficult getting there. The food was being served from the Cafeteria's
serving room, although I was overwhelmed by the quality of the food. The
well cooked lasagna (spoon anyone?), the salad with no dressing on top, and
too much dressing at the bottom, the ping-pong ball shaped potatoes
(although they tasted much like charred ping-pong balls, the lean veal which
was incredibly soft (I was able to cut it with the plastic fork we had been
provided with)and least we forget, the albino carrots. I thought carrots
were meant to be orange. Oh well.
By the time the slide show started, half of the people that were there had
left. Actually, the slide show started after an hour of speeches from the
current principal, the former principal, the school rappresentative of the
time and some other politicians that either had done something for the
school and/or wanted something from the school. No wonder we were allowed
to bring beer inside the auditorium. By the time everything would've been
done, we'd be sober again. Finally the "ST. PATRICK SUPERSHOW" started,
with terrible hip-hop/dance music and poorly oriented images. Slowly, one
by one, we all got up and waited outside.
I was thinking the reunion would've been bad, but this was worse than I had
possibly imagined. Of all the people I went to school with, I was glad to
see those that had graduated way before me (and take some obscene pictures
with them as well). Perhaps a little surprised to see so little of the ones
that graduated with me. Can't wait to go for the 25th anniversary.
"Kuleshov Effect": Just Add Smirnoff
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3. Marvelous: Anarchia in the Cheap Coffee Shops
by Colin Barrett & Leandro (con@capnasty.org)
People that call themselves anarchists seem to be more interested
in going against the governemnt, fighting against society's stricht rules.
Or at least, so they claim, since in reality their "anarchy" is word-based
with a complete lack of action. However the true anarchist will always
find a reason to cause havoc even in the least expected of places. Cheap
coffee shops are a good example. Who would've ever thought of commiting
acts of anarchy in such a place?
Terrorism in the cafe
After a night at the movies or at dinner, we enjoy retreating with
our friends (friends that look apparently normal, but that deep inside
seem to suffer from the same mental instability that you to have) to a
cafe or coffee shop so that we may chat and wind down before going home.
We try to choose our coffee shop carefully. One that is too loud,
pretentiously artsy, or full of cigarette smoke is not our cup of tea.
While we try our best to avoid the dives, we sometimes get burned
by Cafe Marvelous. A Cafe Marvelous is the epitome of a horror shop: dark,
dirty, bad food and, like any place that is open 24 hours a day, there is
always some loud, obnoxious freak sitting in some corner.
The first step involves finding a place to seat. Pick one close
enough to the biggest bunch of yuppies that you can find. If you can
block their way out by moving tables and chairs in order for everyone of
your group to sit down, even better. They will be forced to ask you to
please move (unless they will just stand there patiently hoping that you
will move, but if that's the case, just pretend you're blind). As you
talk among yourselves, burst out laughing as you take an occsasional
glimp behind you.
All that laughing probably made you thirsty, and probably hungry.
Why not order something? As you stand in front of the counter, talk to
everyone around you, crack jokes about the food, change signs, move things
around and make sure you unscrew the sugar cap. As soon as the person
behind the counter asks you what you would like, start staring endlessly
at the list placed behind them and making constat "hmmm.." sounds. The
Yuppier the cafe`, the fancier the names of their products. A coffee
with milk will be more fancyfuly called "cafe` au lait", so ask for it
with the anglais name, looking very serious. "Anything else?". What a
brilliant idea. Why not? Take a look at their cakes, and make sure you
pick the one that is both uncut and at the farthest, most unreachable
corner of the glass shelving. This will cause a pleasant delay behind
you, making all those yuppies very nervous, as the poor guy tries his best
to get the cake without falling on the other ones. Think of the effects
if everyone else in your group picks an uncut cake. Now you have to
understand that we pick only uncut cakes for these simple reasons: the
cake might be old, but at least the frosting acts like a sort of seal,
preventing the precious humidity from leaving, any bacteriological
lifeform would be stuck in that frosting and happily die, and last but
not least, we just like uncut cakes.
Stale Cake: dab the base of your paper drinking cup into the icing of
your cake and fasten the cup upside down under your table. If you have a
glass or ceramic cup and the cakes icing is very dry and sticky, all the
power to you. The proprietor will be most embarrassed if the cup falls and
another customer sits down and rubs his or her knee against the icing.
Dirty water-- I mean, coffee: for some odd reason the coffee always tastes
as if you are drinking dirty, warm water. It smells okay, yet the more
you drink it, the less you are convinced of what you are drinking. Since
the chairs are black, pour the nasty liquid in the chairs, and place the
chairs back under the table. If one of those yuppie guys walks in with
his girlfriend, they'll be more interested in looking at her than to the
pool of delicious coffee they are about to introduce to their pants.
Assemble all the cutlery, waste paper and litter on the table into a
giant, unstable, structure, similar to a house of cards. Although now our
Fascist Department of Health of the Ontario Government has forbidden
smoking in bars and coffee shops and will fine you if caught smoking be
sure to include all the ashtrays from neighbouring vacant tables. A bit
of the cake frosting to keep the structure together will prevent some
random vibration to cause the entire structure to collapse.
Take your napkin and dip part of it in some liquid (such as the coffee
that was too stale to drink) and hang the napkin halfway over the candle
in the middle of the table (leave the premises immediately).
marvelous
Speak out against cheap coffee shops
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4. Explicit Language
WARNING! This article contains fucking explicit language!
"FUCK YOU"
Perhaps one of the most interesting and colorful words in the English
language is the word "fuck". It is one magical word, which, just by its
sound, can describe pain, pleasure, love and hate. In language "fuck" falls into many grammatical categories. It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John). It can be an active verb (John really gives a fuck) or a passive verb (Mary doesn't give a fuck); or an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in John), and as a noun (Mary is a terrible fuck). It can be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful). As you can see, there are very few words with the versatility of the word "fuck".
Besides its sexual connotations, this incredible word can be used to
describe many situations:
1. Greetings "How the fuck are you?"
2. Fraud "I got fucked by the car dealer."
3. Dismay "Oh, fuck it!"
4. Trouble "Well, I guess I'm fucked now."
5. Aggression "Fuck You!"
6. Disgust "Fuck Me!"
7. Confusion "What the Fuck...?"
8. Difficulty "I don't fucking understand."
9. Despair "Fucked again."
10. Incompetence "He fucks everything up."
11. Displeasure "What the fuck is going on here?"
12. Lost "Where the fuck are we?"
13. Disbelief "Unfuckingbelievable."
It can be used to tell time..."It's five-fucking thirty." It can be used in business..."How did I wind up with this fucking job?" It can be maternal...as in "Motherfucker". It can be political..."Fuck Bill Clinton".
And never forget General Custer's last words: "where did all these fucking Indians come from?" Also, the famous last words of the Mayor of
Hiroshima..."What the fuck was that?" and last but not least, the immortal
words of the Captain of the Titanic who said "Where is all this fucking
water coming from?"
The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word! How can
anyone be offended when you use the word "fuck"??? Use it frequently in you daily speech; it adds to your prestige.
** Fuck the Communications Decency Act of 1996.++ **
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