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Capital of Nasty Vol. 06 Issue 03
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume VI, Issue 3, AD MMI
Friday, May 4, 2001
ISSN 1482-0471
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"Every day I get up and look through the Forbes list of the richest
people in America. If I'm not there, I go to work." - Robert Orben
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[05:07] <Mel> tell leo, rev and rasputin hi all! you're not here,
but i thought i'd tell you that i'm stumbling drunk and can still
type as well as usual. well, almost.
[05:07] <Funnep> I sure will tell leo, that, Mel
[05:07] <Mel> tell rev hi all! you're not here, but i thought i'd
tell you that i'm stumbling drunk and can still type as well as
usual. well, almost.
[05:07] <Funnep> I don't know the name rev, so I can't deliver that,
Mel
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1. Editorial
2. Pelicans
3. Ran graveyard shift at a satellite relay radio station
4. At the Movies with CoN
5. A modest proposal
-------------------------------------------
This week's Golden Testicle award:
http://www.bekkoame.ne.jp/ha/dins/onarafetish3english.htm
PLEASE LISTEN TO MY FARTINGS
-------------------------------------------
1. Editorial
By CoN staff
Prophet Muhammad used to say that instead of going after his
enemies, he would sit by the shore of a river, and wait for the
bodies of his enemies to float by.
Sometimes, all you can do is wait.
Sometimes, you can give faith a little nudge.
Allow me to explain. A year and a half ago I started working for
this company. It's thanks to this place that, besides being one of
the strangest and most deranged places I've ever worked at, allowed
me to take advantage of such luxuries as food in my fridge, a
comfortable bed and my very own toilet. A toilet that I did not
have to share with retarded roommates.
For that, I am grateful, especially considering the large amount of
friends that lately are enjoying their sudden state of unemployment
thanks to this whole dot com crash.
The site I work for was in dire need of both a redesign and
remodernization. Management assigned us one of their programmers as
our web master. We will call this person Monkey Boy [CoN would like
to apologize to all the chimps reading this issue - Ed]
Monkey Boy promised a completely new site in two weeks.
Ten months later our website was far from finished. Half still
relied on hand modified HTML code, and the half that did work [CoN
would like to apologize to all websites that do work -Ed] was a
shamble of the most convoluted ASP code, with plenty of bizarre
features that would appear and disappear on a regular basis. And
slow.
The best part was Monkey Boy's attitude. The man had no shame and
would not only constantly insult us and our knowledge, but accuse us
of "breaking his code" when things stopped working (more often than
they did work). He proceeded even to insult management whenever
they requested a report on his status.
Oh, did we scream and kick our feet to rid of this chimp through the
year, but lo, our cries would fall on the deaf ears of management.
In fact, management would make excuses for Monkey Boy's lack of
development and make us look like the bad guys that had it out for
him.
The thing is, our department may be populated by strange people, but
we're a closely-knit group. Had he been more supportive and shown
that he had actually tried to build a site but wasn't good at it, we
would probably have been on his side and not bitched. We would've
found ways to help him. Alas, he just did not care.
When the one-year mark hit, and our site was nowhere in sight,
management had to agree that indeed, Monkey Boy, was the arrogant,
useless fuck we had proclaimed him to be.
So our site remained without a webmaster, while we patiently wait
for another incarnation of our site to be built.
Money Boy was, unfortunately, not fired, because he enjoyed the
protection of the powers that be at our old office.
A protection that recently came to an end, as the company decided to
sell the office and its entire staff that he is currently at. Since
the market is terrible for anything with a .com next to it, chances
are that the office will simply be closed and everyone there laid
off.
Monkey Boy probably sensing this, started applying around, because
shortly after I received an e-mail from a friend. This friend is
the executive director of a small but very successful media company.
Monkey Boy had applied there and he was wondering about his ASP
skills, reading the claim he had built the entire site I worked for.
I think I can recall very few instances when I was this surprised.
Not a "I just got kicked in the nuts" type of surprise. More like
"Did I just read that?" followed immediately after "How do I reply
to this ensuring this company will never want to talk to Monkey Boy
again?"
My response was short, but diplomatic, explaining that Monkey Boy's
skills were top notch if he was looking for a way of going out of
business really quick.
Needlessly to say, Monkey Boy did not get the job. And they say
that revenge isn't sweet? I savoured it for days after that.
Then, I decided, just to add the final touch, I forwarded the query
from my friend to management and asked with the most innocent tone I
could muster "That's strange, isn't it? I thought Monkey Boy still
worked at our other office". We'll see how long it takes for the
dust to settle, and then I'll go sit by the shore of the river and
wait.
Rev.Sean C. Rothstein-Jacobson asks:
JESUS MAN- you STILL have problems with people being unable to
unsubscribe? This baffles me! This baffles me and I am not one to
underestimate Human stupidity!
Ellen Kokoris confirms the Reverend's bafflement:
leave/unsubscribe/drop dead
Ron Chmara writes:
> Working with web, sucks. Now, it's not the technology. Sure, I
> could write pages and pages about Microsoft and their concept of
> reliability (I'm sure it's thanks to Windows that computers have a
> "reboot" button), or the many new Internet applications to spice
> up your website so that it takes an extra five days to download.
People can run better OS's. If they want a drool-proof unix, Apple
now makes OS X for their hardware. If they want fascistic uptimes
and use X86 hardware, there's linux and freeBSD.
Reliability doesn't *have* to suck. It just requires learning a new
OS.
Of course, that doesn't leave that much to be nasty about... other
than complaining about how bad you had it before, and how hard it is
to learn a reliable OS, and get stable software..... :-)
> It's the managers. Managers are lost. They have no clue
> about how anything works.
PHB's can be amusing to toy with, once you've lost all respect for
them, and can manipulate them with no moral qualms whatsoever. :-)
> They have an idea in their mind, and even if means
> a website that's a 5 MB flash animation with non-vector
> based images just to get the right touch and what not, they
> will demand it.
> Useless are the cries for sanity by the peons that work for them.
I like to demo such evil monstrosities for them over a modem, to
show what a user will actually see. A technique that works well for
those managers who aren't cable/dsl folks is to send their _home_
email address a link, early in the evening, so they try to view it
on their dinky 56K winmodem. They usually assume the site is broken.
:-)
If that doesn't work, try doing a "laptop demo" (just to show how
cool it looks on a laptop) using a dial out modem.
If that doesn't work, start collecting client names, so when the
dotcom goes bust due to clueless management, you can start your own
thing. It's what I did.
My sympathies,
-Ron Chmara
-------------------------------------------
2. Pelicans: Friendly niche in the bird eco-system or death from
above?
By Rev.m
Maybe it is something about the way they look when they fly,
possibly that they are unusual looking even by a bird's standards.
Could be that they are just plain ugly but in any regard, I hate
them. I hate everything they do.
I hate the way they fly, the way they roost, the way they catch
fish, everything! They are stealing human babies from the storks and
eating them! They steal jobs from decent hard working Americans.
They were involved with the Nazi's during WWII!
Who do you think helped find the allied convoys for German
submarines? It certainly wasn't the seagulls! I can't see why other
people don't get this?
Well, actually I can because all of my claims are utter nonsense.
This is one of the things that happen whenever I promise I am going
to write something. I start out with some bizarre idea such as why
everyone should hate pelicans and then the humor slowly beads away
like rain on a ducks back.
You see, I believe I have a mental affliction that has yet to be
named by science. That affliction is that I still find things
funny, stuff that usually only twelve-year-old boys find funny. I
get some word in my head, such as "pelican", and I use that word
over and over again until I drive myself and everyone around me
completely insane [I still remember the "turnip" moment -Ed].
I will admit that it is fun for a day or two to scream at people
that they are pelicans. I mean what is funnier than screaming, "BACK
PELICAN, BACK FOWL AND EVIL PELICAN!" at your boss when he comes up
to ask you a question pertaining to your job?
It is however everyone's obligation (including myself,) to go to the
joke and not through the joke... For those of you that actually know
me, I apologize for my incessant ramblings about pelicans and all of
the horrendous things that they have done to me and humanity.
What is even more irritating is when you come up with some brilliant
(well maybe brilliant isn't the appropriate term) insane thing like
this and then others start using it. It is ok to use someone's
idiocy for humor a few times, but please try and come up with your
own material, or at least add something to it!
I mean, I can only take this pelican thing so far! Damn, now I feel
as if this probably isn't making sense to the reader. I highly doubt
that I am making any sense what so ever. Which leads me to believe
that there are most likely some in the CoN email list that have
probably been influenced by pelican mind control.
In other news, I have been very bad about writing for other folks.
And after reading this I am sure that they are now happy about that
fact. Recently I have been told that my writing is so good *cough*
that people actually want to pay me for it... This is a horrible
thing to happen, as I never believed my writing worth anything. The
first day I read this proposal I was elated... then some weird and
heavy fear came over me... that would make writing a job of sorts
and anything called a job usually means hours of meaningless
frustrations and someone demanding more and more of you.
This is especially stupid because I know that any money received
from this would be minimal. However as dumb as I am, I am going to
try it anyway. At least I will find comfort in the fact that due to
my poor grammar that I will be an editor's worst nightmare.
Anyway, if everything turns out, I may finally be able to afford
that shotgun that I have been eyeballing and initiate my one man
crusade against the evil and treacherous-pelican.
---
Rev.m writes really crappy bio's about himself and wishes that
someone else had done it for him. If you would like a reason to
never listen to music again, you may visit my "bands" site at:
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/251/cheeseberger.html
All profits go to buying Leandro an American accent
-------------------------------------------
3. Ran graveyard shift at a satellite relay radio station
By Rev.Sean C. Rothstein-Jacobson
There have only been two occasions in my life when I felt like I was
on the brink of true insanity. I don't mean manic-depression/ co-
dependence/ neurosis-du-jour but REAL madness- true dementia. Once
was when the mother of my son and I split up: I felt the entire
universe had become an infinitely thin tunnel of unrelenting
anguish. It was no good. The other time was when I worked
graveyard shift at a soft rock radio station that played piped-in
music from Los Angeles. All I had to do there was make sure that
the proper commercials were cued to play, and that the satellite
link stayed up. We had carts with each of the D.J.'s saying 3 or 4
versions of "K-O-C-N, Monterey Salinas Santa Cruz" Yeah...
"K.O.C.N.- we pronounce it 'Kay-Ocean' because 'Cockin' would be
obscene."
Seems like an easy enough job, eh? On par with Photomat in regard
to responsibility level and free time. I was working alone in the
middle of the night. Just the sort of job I thought would be
totally perfect for me... ahh, but this place had some insidiously
pervasive forces working within its walls...
Firstly, it was graveyard shift so I began seeing my friends less
and less so that the usual checks and balances the presence of other
psyches enact were less and less frequent- my personality began to
grow unchecked.
Nothing bad in that, were that the only factor. Next, I was
responsible for answering the phones and lying to people about the
fact that we weren't actually playing music from Monterey. Now, it
wasn't the lying that got to me --as odd and foul as it was-- but
the people who called.
I mean think about it: it's 4:am and you are not only listening to
Neil Diamond and Bruce Springsteen, but you want to call up and
request a tune, or compliment our taste in music... think about the
kind of person you'd be... I shudder...
I had a woman call me up one night and say that she had just seen
her Brother's gang shoot someone and then drive out to some
undisclosed location and bury them. She thought that they were
going to kill her too because she wasn't technically a member of the
gang and thus a witness so, tonight, she decided to take a whole
bunch of downers and just... go... to... sleep...
ALL she wanted from ME was to hear "Hold on to the night" of all
things before she just... fell... asleep... MY HEART WAS POUNDING!
I kept talking to her trying to keep her awake as she slurred more
and more. I tried to get her to give me her address but she
wouldn't, which I suppose is good practice in every OTHER situation!
I couldn't call her an ambulance so I tried to keep her talking-
asking her random shit until finally I hear the phone thump against
something and she won't respond. I slam the phone down like four
times screaming "LIKE I FUCKING NEEDED THAT!"
So you can imagine the effect of having little to no social
interaction aside from folk like that- I began to warp. Throw in a
sound studio that was kept unlocked HOWEVER I was technically not
supposed to use. I'm a musician that was simply impossible. It did
mean that I couldn't bring any conspicuous instruments into the
place. This made me turn mike springs into drum-sets, chair creeks
into arpeggios, rigid plastic carpet covers into washboards and my
mouth into any other sound I might need. I was in a highly charged
creative state most of my waking hours.
My son's mother became pregnant during this time, which, of course,
means a mind-bending stress. It was unplanned and she decided to
keep him, thankfully, but it was something that took me all the way
up to his birth to come to terms with. I inherited an old archive of
porn mags from a co-worker and started doing collage with it.
Creating things that should not be, doing things unspeakable.
It was bizarre: centipedes of breasts with legs at every segment
wearing fishnets, women with hair of penis and hands of bodies.
Made me look at people like re-arrangible pieces of meat for
awhile... eheh... real dehumanizing. Lastly I never really got used
to the hours so some days I'd sleep marathon and some days not a
wink. Truly destabilising,
Okay, real quick, lets review the cocktail for madness I had going
here: highly charged creative state, destabalized, ultra stressed
about the future, my only support group: lonely psychotics, EASY
LISTENING MUSIC PLAYING AT ALL TIMES, and becoming estranged with
people as individuals and not just puzzle parts. Mmmm, serve that
cocktail shaken.
The distortion came on pretty slow but was marked by occasional
episodes such as this one time I get this blues song stuck in my
head that I can't shake. Now, unlike the usual background annoyance
that this typically generates I start to panic a little because the
song actually is drowning out all other thoughts and I find myself
flashing into the reality of it, the very physical reality. I mean
I can feel cool wind over me as I am sending my daughter off to the
city, can feel the stiff doily-like quality of the lace on her cuff
and BOOM I am back in the radio station sweating and breathing
heavy. I get up and pace, try talking to myself for distraction and
BOOM I am pushing her on to the train as she is crying that she
doesn't want to go, she want to stay with me BUT I KNOW that MY life
will forever be in bars and ditches playing for change, she stands
so much a better chance in the city than with me. I push her on
again as the train moves and I feel the coolness of a tear strike my
wrist. BOOM I am standing mid-pace, still talking to myself- I go
directly to the bathroom and run cold water over my head and cut my
chest with a bent paperclip. This seems to help. Like I said, I
wasn't right in the head during this span.
There was this girl, Trisha, that used to call me. She was 15 and
thought she was pregnant with her married, 31 year-old, Social
Worker's child. It turned out to be untrue- he had taken her
virginity and she just assumed she was with child. Her father beat
her and her mother regularly and she claimed he was head of the
Carmel masons, which would mean he would have the cops wrapped
around his pinkie. She said that her mother was always talking
about wanting to leave the family and move back to North Carolina
where they came from. In other words this girl's life was fucked
up.
I mean it.
It was hard to find even a shade of her that wasn't brutalized in
some way. She once professed undying love to me because I understood
her so well. That basically translated into this: "No one in my life
treats me with any scrap of respect. YOU don't tell me what to do,
YOU listen to me and suggest things and THAT is so ALIEN to ANYTHING
in my ENTIRE LIFE that IT MUST BE love that I am feeling." As she
told me why she would profess such a thing I began to slowly start
crying at the sinking realization of how truly barren this girl's
life was- it was terrible, a crippling empathy. She often tried to
do things like instigate phone sex and the like- it's the age and
the nature of her abuse- and once tried to actually come to the
station when she had run away from home. I was away at a wedding
that weekend and, considering how fucked up I was at the time, I am
thankful that we never met. I can't honestly say what would have
happened if we had.
My whole life began to compress on every level- like a tangible
density and weight was slowly increasing from every angle at once.
I started mumbling unconsciously and uncontrollably. The only thing
that was keeping me together was the deranged screaming I'd do in
their production room. See I was on real shaky ground. I started
doing things like reading the newspaper columns downward through the
middle, without including the left and right peripheral words, in
search of sensical streams of meaning- IT WAS MADENING!
I'd cut out the 'choice' sensical streams and tape/ glue them in
hidden places all over the station. Under desks. Inside of the
casings of the telephones. On the tops of ceiling high ducts. Once
I risked serious injury by climbing upside down on a girder in the
ceiling to glue down a quote that read: "The lengths I am willing to
go to for a joke are truly ridiculous" in a place that ONLY the
destruction of the building would ever reveal. I turned neurotic in
ways that were entertaining me, which is dangerous, because it meant
that I was making little effort to stop them.
I slowly drifted from "the person that is me plus the tools to exist
in society" into one that was only "me". Now, this was a valuable
lesson: the truest expression of the person I am, is one that could
not function in this society but is also one that would be so self
contained that it would not NEED to. Mania will show you things
you'd never expect, like: the depths to which you can sink, the
malleable nature of your identity, how easy it is to slide downhill,
and how weak you are to your environment.
Serve that cocktail shaken.
---
REVSCRJ is a writer/musician living in Monterey, California.
Constantly on the verge of homelessness, he hopes that you enjoy his
work or else his life has been in vain. Contact REVSCRJ at
revscrj@cloudfactory.org to lodge complaints, notify of lawsuits, or
receive spiritual advice.
-------------------------------------------
4. At the Movies with CoN
By Jeff Wright
Movie One: IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE
Wong Kar Wai's newest film, starring Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung,
is the best film released this year, so far (domestically released
in 2000, but in February of this year in North America). It's an
absolutely beautiful film, about neighbours, who find out their
spouses are having an affair with each other. They begin to spend
time together, and eventually, fall in love. I really want to do
this film justice in my description, but I'm a dummy and have a
vocabulary that consists of 495 words. Go see it if it's playing
near you. If you're not lucky enough to be in an area where it's
playing, it's available on HK DVD and VCD. Both have subtitles, but
the DVD is lacking fairly important ones, that set the year for you,
near the end of the film apparently. The VCD has the complete
subtitles.
Movie Two: FREDDY GOT FINGERED
Get thee to a nunnery, or to the nearest Cineplex playing this film.
Your choice. Watch the film (not something else that's playing at
the same Cineplex, ya semantic fucks), or know that I think you're
an idiot. RIP TORN RULES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Among a
great many other things.
This is revolutionary filmmaking. I've got five words for ya to
think about when watching FREDDY GOT FINGERED.
And the Oscar goes to.
Movie Three: MISSION TO MARS
Save your money. Not that anyone else is dumb enough to rent this
piece of shit, but just in case you take a stupid pill instead of an
Aspirin one day. Know that it's a very bad, bad movie. The same
way Adolf Hitler was a very bad, bad man.
Movie Four: MEMENTO
This thing pissed me off. I didn't care about the characters, it
moved too slowly, and every frame of re-used footage insulted my
intelligence. Not a very good film. No need to get into it though.
From what I gather, most fans of the film are rabidly so. I don't
want any of them mad at me. I'm weak.
Movie Five: THE BEATLES ANTHOLOGY
I just got this on LD the other day. I'm only half way through part
3 of 8, but I'm really liking this documentary/mini-series. The bit
about the gay looking French boys was pretty amusing.
MOVIE STUFF ENDS HERE
The following has nothing to do with movies, but it pissed me off
enough that I wanted to write about it.
Walking home from work last Friday, my faith in humanity dwindled to
a new low. As I was walking along the street, I noticed a group of
say 10 people on the corner closest to me, looking across to the
next corner. There, was a group of maybe 30 people, the one in the
centre, being a police officer. It always annoys me, how interested
people are in other people's business, and how freely they'll stick
their noses in it. This was the worst case I've ever seen of the
phenomenon, though.
As I walk by the centre of attention, I see that by the cop, is a
little girl, who's no more than 10 years old, with her dog.
Something like a Doberman.
The little girl was crying, and screamed out, "I DON'T WANT TO LOSE
MY BABY!!!." It just about broke my feeble Grinch sized (pre-Mary
Lou Who) heart. So obviously the dog bit someone, and it needed to
be taken away, but the little girl was shattered. Once I had passed
the mob, I got really mad at the douche bags huddled around the
little girl. If it hadn't been for the fact that my yelling, would
have probably added to the little girl's hysteria, I had a good mind
to turn around and curse out each and every one of those
motherfuckers.
Its called common decency. Clearly, a good number of the people who
live on this planet don't have it, or can't grasp the concept;
acting as though it were abstract. Fuck them!
---
Jeff wants someone to make adult sized Powerpuff Girls shirts. He's
not a little girl, and doesn't like wearing pink (in public at
least).
-------------------------------------------
5. A MODEST PROPOSAL
By Robert
A modest proposal for the removal of unruly high school students to
impoverished nations.
It is with a heavy heart that one walks though the public high
schools of this country to see the halls crowded with rude, loud-
mouthed adolescents mindlessly meandering toward the next classroom.
Beleaguered teachers, instead of being able to follow their
profession of imparting knowledge, are forced to employ nearly all
their time and energy just attempting to maintain order in
classrooms packed with ignorant ruffians completely uninterested in
learning anything who as they age either turn to welfare and crime,
or worse, become lawyers and politicians, for lack of employable
skills, or continue to ungratefully leech the life-blood of their
hard-working parents. Public high schools have become little more
than day care centers.
I think it is agreed by the general populace that this enormous
number of troublemakers and spoiled brats is the major contributor
to the widespread deterioration of schools and, therefore, whoever
could propose an effective and easily implemented solution to this
problem would richly deserve the gratitude of the entire country.
The number of adolescents of high school age in this country is
estimated by the census bureau at 20 million. Of these, I reckon,
based on 25 years teaching experience, that there may be around 10%,
or 2 million nationally, who are genuinely interested in preparing
themselves for the responsibilities of adulthood. From this number
I feel justified in subtracting 500,000 who are lost to drugs and
violence. This leaves approximately 1.5 million adolescents nation-
wide that could possibly benefit from high school education. The
rest are an inordinate burden on the financial and emotional
resources of every city, county and state.
Having occupied my mind for a number of years with this exceedingly
grave problem and having thoroughly examined the various solutions
proposed by overpaid clerks known as school administrators, it has
become painfully obvious that behind their verbiage they have no
answers. Therefore, I shall humbly propose my own solution. Those
who are unused to decisive action are advised to withhold judgement
until they have thoroughly considered the numerous advantages to
society.
I have been assured by a highly placed government official of my
acquaintance from a Middle-Eastern country that there is a great
demand in third-world countries for young Americans to perform the
work that up to now has been assigned to children. Due to their
healthy bodies, adolescent Americans are seen as prime candidates
for the type of jobs that the middle and upper classes in those
countries prefer to avoid, similar to the American attitude toward
their own immigrant workers.
I propose that the 18.5 million unruly American high school students
be removed immediately to impoverished nations around the world.
Some of the many advantages to this proposal are as follows:
1. The American high school students will have many golden
opportunities for learning about life first-hand. They will be able
to test their infantile attitudes and arrogance against the
standards of a less developed society where respect and integrity
are more highly valued.
2. As indentured servants the high schoolers will acquire valuable
working skills in basic service occupations such as cooking, waste
disposal, farming, fishing, animal care, garment making, vehicle
repair and manufacturing.
3. Those who are addicted to drugs and alcohol will find them more
readily available, thus allowing them to continue their comatose
life-style.
4. Promiscuous high school students can indulge their immorality as
members of the international sexual slavery trade.
5. A larger number of bright students from impoverished nations will
be exchanged with United States to be educated. A significant
number of these will choose to remain in this country and invigorate
the economy. Impoverished nations will also be strengthened by the
young, energetic work force being sent to them.
6. Only serious students will be enrolled in public high schools.
Because of a smaller, safer and more studious environment and
teachers who are allowed to teach, these students will excel, as
they never have before. The same will be true of the colleges and
universities, who recruit their students from the high schools.
Increasingly intelligent populations will soon manifest social,
scientific and spiritual improvements unimaginable under present
conditions. Addictions to drugs, violence and sexual exploitation
will all but disappear.
7. Because of the smaller enrolment, fewer high schools, colleges
and universities will be needed, greatly reducing the expenses of
governmental entities nation-wide. Conversely, more funding will be
available for the remaining schools. The unused buildings will now
be available for government offices, homeless shelters and for
public sale.
8. There will be much more space available for the illegal aliens
flowing into this country.
9. Largely uninhabited areas, such as the Sahara desert, Russian
steppes, Australian outback, the Mongolian and Tibetan plains, and
the Amazon jungle, will benefit from the availability of American
high schoolers for help in exploration and development.
10. The third world exchanges and workforce augmentations can only
lead to greater tolerance and understanding between nations.
Many other advantages will become apparent as this proposal is
implemented. The idea is not without precedent. The practice of
England and other nations of transporting socially undesirable
people to other parts of the planet in the 1600s and 1700s led to
the prosperous development of uncharted territories. Parents of the
unruly adolescents who object to the removals will be transported
with their children to the new lands. I have tactfully avoided
mentioning their culpability for the behavior of their children.
With the advancement of space technology, this program can be
extended to nearby planets, such as Mars.
---
Robert can be reached at plieades@yahoo.com
-------------------------------------------
CoN would not be possible without the great help of Scriba Org.
CoN: Please listen to my fartings. Pretty please?
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
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Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro Colin Barrett
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ZimID 708EC8D1 1994/09/14 EC B0 97 59 1D FE 7C 32 7E 04 2C 66 47
41 FB 7D
