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Capital of Nasty Vol. 05 Issue 05
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume V, Issue 5, AD MM
Monday, April 24, 2000
ISSN 1482-0471
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"I was sitting in my cubical today, and I realized ever since I
started working, every single day of my life has been worse than the
day before it. So that means that every single day you see me, that's
the worst day of my life."
-- Office Space.
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When I was a kid I couldn't understand why anyone would want to shoot
John Lennon. But now I can. My only regret, that it wasn't me.
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1. Editorial
2. Rock is Dead
3. God is in the Elevator...
4. CoN at the Movies
5. Motto
-------------------------------------------
This week's Golden Testicle award:
Move over Mahir, Mr. Gigolo is here. Is he not hot?
http://www.geocities.com/lonely451_2000/me.html
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1. Editorial
By Leandro Asnaghi-Nicastro
Well, in this wonderful Editorial I was going to talk about the fights
between me and the squirrel that lives in my yard and gnaws wood at
night in my attic. But because I moved, and because when you do
something like move, you want to do it with the least amount of
troubles and pains as possible, you become easily fragile and
hysterical when life decides to stick its nose in your affairs.
This, of course, causes the traumatic reaction of not trying to get
Muffy the squirrel out of your former attic, the next time you hear
him at night gnawing on some wood, with a nut and making squirrel
noises (where the squirrel looks at you with a "what the fuck?" look
on his face) but you grab the shotgun and turn him into Purina Chow
instead.
Wednesday, April 5th
Telling Bell that I was moving and that I wanted my phone to follow
me seemed like a simple thing to do. You fill out a form, you hand
it to the smiling clerk that doesn't comprehend, much less speak one
word of English, and you go merrily on your way.
I was expecting a simple, painless process, since I already had about
a zillion other things to worry about that day, among which my taxes.
Despite the fact I got my phone form to have it disconnect on the 5th
of April in one place and reactivate on the 5th of the other place, by
that night I still had no service. So I called Bell.
"Well, it says here that the phone can't be activated until the 6th of
April" squeals the friendly 310-Bell 'if it's broken, we may just fix
it' clerk.
"Well, wouldn't it be possible," I ask as nice as possible "to
activate the damn thing today, since that's when I asked?"
"But it says here that it can't be done until the 6th, sir".
"So, how am I suppose to make phone calls and stuff?"
"Are you calling from that line sir?"
"If my line was working, would I call you to have you make my phone
work?"
"Sir, that kind of attitude is not appreciated, while I try to help
you".
In the end, bureaucracy won, and the 6th it had to be.
Thursday, April 6th
So on the morning of the 6th, I pick up my phone and listen. No dial-
tone. Okay. They probably have the time and seconds to which they
have to activate the thing, so maybe after work I'll have a dial-tone.
I can just picture the guy waiting, with a hand on the enter key ready
to press it, and staring at the clock to get the precise second.
From work I try calling my old line. It gives me the number to my new
line. I call the new line. I get an answering machine, which I am
assuming is mine at this point. For a brief moment in my life I
thought that was over and done with, and that I still loved Bell.
Sadly, when I got home, the phone had no dial-tone. I switched
phones, to no avail.
I call Bell once again and explain that despite the fact I asked for
my line to be moved and that it was done late, it wasn't even done
right.
"Are you calling from that line sir?"
I bet a lot of people call Bell from their broken phones in this day
and age.
After singing the Happy Song and smiling, I ask the clerk at 310-Bell
if they could make my phone work. She says that someone will show up
at my house at 6PM, Friday.
Friday, April 7th, 6 P.M.
Friday at 6PM, after rushing from work, I am waiting by the door,
because, when you live in an apartment, your phone and your main-door
are all hooked to the same circuit. So, if your phone doesn't work,
neither does the intercom. It's 7 o'clock and the Bell guy doesn't
show up. My landlord, seeing me goes "Oh, the Bell guy came today at
2PM and fixed your phone". I thank him, run upstairs, pick up my
phone and I still have no dial-tone. For some reason I am not
surprised.
Saturday, April 8th
The next morning I call Bell once again (no, not from my phone, in
case you're wondering).
Somehow it's my fault that the guy came at 2PM instead of 6 as I was
told.
This despite the fact that the other lady had given that specific
time, because you know, some people have to work for a living.
So they schedule another appointment. I ask what time: "He'll come
between 9AM and 5PM". Any fucking less precise?
Sunday, April 9th
At around 4, when I was about to leave, the Bell guy arrives. He
discovers that not only that the building has got the weirdest wiring
of all (from the basement of building 1, to the third floor of
building 2, then back to the second floor of building 2, which is
where I live). After determining that no wires were laid for my
particular apartment (making us wonder, just what "disconnecting"
someone meant), the guy, confused and desperate after 45 minutes of
chasing cables around, takes out wire and makes his own connection
from the box to the third floor, back to the second and into the wire
that enters my apartment.
Yo and behold! My phone line works! I can hear the distinct and
satisfying sound of the dial-tone in the back. Life is good. I can
actually connect myself back to the Internet in the comfort of my
messy new home, to work on my already belated issue of CoN.
Happy, I return to my former house to continue packing and boxing
stuff to move over, while my girlfriend complains that I am the
slowest mover that ever existed (it took me well over three weeks to
move and I'm not finished yet).
Monday, April 10th:
My phone line is dead again.
Ellen K. writes in regards to our last issue of CoN
(what else? I mean, seriously, were you expecting her
to write about the weather? Let's get serious here).
You know, this Jay guy has a good point about the
spelling and basic grammar in that story. And some of
the other stuff, too. I think your Angie has misjudged him.
I was never taught grammar in school (honest, Chicago
public schools) but I can say with complete confidence
that in story #3 of this issue, this is wrong: "I
crouched behind it, and slowly drug it to a display on
the other side of me, " --ummm, ever hear of the
word *dragged*
geez
still love ya
Ellen
And lastly, albeit everyone has probably forgotten about this whole
thing (add me to the list), Luke de Sade replies in regards to the
comments made about his article:
Hey, boys and girls. Seems that my "story" fucked some
people up. I thought this zine was to have fun, not get
all mad as hell and shit.
Now, to answer some things:
> Luke de Sade, despite his not liking girls, writes
> back to Ange's praises:
I DO like girls! I just don't like their fluids.
And about this guy:
> I'm sorry, but what the fuck was up with that de
> Sade guy? I don't usually attack people, and in
> general think that I'm a pretty easy going guy.
> I root for the underdog, have empathy for the
> less fortunate, and pretty much believe you reap
> what you sow......but how could you guys print
> what this guy had to say? Perhaps I'm showing a
> bit of my anal retentiveness, but this guy is a
> moron. I got D's in High school English, and that
> was over 20 years ago, but I still understand the
> basics.
>
> Examples:
>
> "I'm one of those people that can either have sex
> or don't have sex."
>
> "We were there up until 4 a.m. in the morning."
>
> "So off we went, drunk as hell, and (my two
> friends who were with me) horny as dogs."
>
> "I tell you all these because what I'm about to
> tell you guys will freak some people out."
>
> Those is some of the least most worst ones.
> I don't know, maybe I just don't understand exactly
> what your policies are in regards to the things that
> people submit to you, but this guy came off as a
> sick little Narcissistic jerk moron, that can't
> possibly have anything interesting to say. Let alone
> print. But maybe that was your point.
Ok, Mr. Grammar, first of all, this ain't fucking
school. If I wanted correct spelling and grammar,
I'd go back to school. So drop it already.
Besides that, I'm from a fucking third world country!
We're supposed to fuck up in English, aren't we?
> Perhaps I can help Mr. de Sade figure out what he
> can spend that 10 bucks on.
>
> 1.Psychiatric treatment. His obvious fear of bodily
> fluids is a dead giveaway that he is heading toward a
> bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Nah, that only happens to you "gringos" :)
> 2.Analysis. Love is good. Love of one's self is good.
> This guy loves himself WAY too much.
And don't you love yourself?
> 3.A spellchecker
Have one. Too bored to use it.
> 4.Remedial English courses
Third world country? Ring a bell?
> 5.A personality
Can I borrow yours?
> 6.A gun. So he can shoot himself and spare us from
> any more of his drivel.
I have one, but am too stupid to use it.
> 7.A gun See # 6
Again?
> 8.A gun Did I mention that I think he should kill
> himself?
Could you teach me how to do it? Maybe if I see you
do it, it'll sink in.
> 9.Suzy the love doll. No more vaginal fluids!
> Just his own gross, disgusting, sick, smelly,
> slimy, semen.
Hey, now THAT'S an idea!
> 10.Some hand lotion. See # 9
Nah, I like it rough!
Man, have fun, dammit! That's the whole point. If you
were insulted by my article, I'm very sorry. Now, can
you teach me how to use that gun?
"Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything,
with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never
been seen, atheistic to the point of fanaticism, there
you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me
as I am, for I shall not change."
--Donatien-Alphonse-Francois de Sade
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2. Rock is Dead
By John Iadipaolo
In a culture obsessed with bubble gum pop and gangsta rap rule, it's
decidedly uncool to be labeled a 'rocker'. Rock is what our parents
listened to, so naturally the average teen wants the polar opposite.
They want manufactured beauty kings (N'Sync) and queens (Spears) to
croon about a messy breakup or a new crush. They want tough, young
black men to rap about the hardships of the streets (when the majority
of them have never set foot inside Harlem). They wouldn't be caught
dead listening to The Police's 'Every Breath You Take', but Puffy's
cheesy 'tribute' to the Notorious B.I.G., featuring the guitar part
and most of the lyrics, sold quite well.
It's disappointing that rock doesn't get the attention that it
deserves anymore, but it's certainly not a surprise. Music has become
another product to buy, use and throw away. People aren't very
selective about the music they listen to, as long as it's got a beat,
a pretty video and they can grind to it in a club. Plus, it's easy to
listen to a new single, even if you don't really like it. Hot singles
generally have a shelf life of a month before they're deemed 'played
out', and get forgotten in favor of something newer, hotter and
louder.
When the topic of music comes up when I'm talking with friends, I'm
always interested to hear what they say. They never talk about the
lyrics, emotions or intensity of their favorite artists- most of them
don't really have favorite artists, and their 'favorite' song changes
every couple of weeks. I'm not criticizing my friends, but I think
it's sad when an art is cheapened the way music has been over the past
few decades.
A great rock song gives me a rush, but many people complain that it's
depressing music, and I can see why they might think so. With it's
hard edge and decidedly unattractive stars, rock doesn't fit into pop
culture's mold of being constantly bigger, flashier, faster and
dumber. Many true rock songs aren't radio friendly (I don't consider
bands like Serial Joe, No Doubt, Limp Bizkit, etc etc as real rock
bands due to their obvious commercialism), and you sure as hell can't
dance to it. Still, to me good rock bands possesses certain qualities
that artists in many other types of music lack: integrity, feeling,
and a genuine love of their work
Regardless of me friends and my culture, I try to remain a faithful
rock fan. I'm a big fan of The Smashing Pumpkins, Metallica, Tool and
NIN. I was at the Slipknot concert last week (April 7th) at the
Warehouse (in my hometown of Toronto), and I'm looking forward to the
big NIN show at Maple Leaf Gardens at the end of the month. Still,
I'm not as much of a 'rocker' as I used to be. When I'm driving
around I usually listen to dance stations (although Toronto's rock
stations are awful, and my tape deck is broken), but I find myself
tapping my foot or humming to rap and dance songs now and again. I
certainly don't dress like a traditional 'rocker', if I ever did, and
just last night my friends brought me to a club. They say they're
wearing me down, and-sometimes- I wonder if they're right.
---
John is a highschool student in Toronto. If you were watching
MuchMusic last Saturday, you might have seen him crowd surfing at a
Slipknot concert.
-------------------------------------------
3. God is in the Elevator, and He's Mad Magnolia Didn't Win Best
Picture
By Jason MacIsaac
Whenever I'm confronted on the streets by some blank-eyed twit who
wants to tell me about his personal friend Jesus, I always counter
with a line I believe I picked up from either a movie or a stand-up
comedian:
"I talked to God this morning, and he didn't say anything about you."
I wish I could remember where I heard it from. If anyone want to drop
me a line at jason@scriba.org if you know where it originated from, I
would be most grateful.
If you've read my previous article The Gospel According to Some Guy I
Met on the Bus, you'll already be familiar with my views on religion.
I'm not against organized religion per say, but I am much more into
personal spirituality. I want to believe that there is something out
there, but in my lifetime I am prepared to accept that I may never get
more than occasional glimpses at it. I already told you about one
such glimpse.
This morning, I had another.
Today is Sunday, and that's usually the day I try to clean the
apartment. I am conscious that my place screams "BACHELOR! BACHELOR
ALERT! CLEAR THE BRIDGE! DIVE DIVE!" and I'm trying to cure it of
that. I'd like to make the ol' homestead look like I live here, and
not just Generic Slob #3. I'm not prepared to wait for the next woman
in my life to take over the decorating duties.
That leaves me with quite a lot to do, and a lot of money to spend. I
need new furniture. I need to buy groceries en masse more often,
instead of just picking up odds and ends as I come home from work
everyday. I need to routinely pick up those damn flyers that keep
shoving through my mail slot, causing a mess and frightening the cat.
Like many people, I don't exactly look forward to doing the laundry
and tend to wait until the last set of useable socks/underwear is gone
before I drag my ass downstairs. It's amazing to think that all
laundry used to be done by hand. Now we have machines that do almost
everything for us and we're still lazy about it. Housewives in the
1950s must be as tough as modern-day marines.
I had to do lots of towels and bed linen to do too. I was going to
drag a stuffed laundry bag and a basket downstairs. I do have a
little shopping cart I could have used to bring the load downstairs,
but when I bought it, disassembled, the hardware was incomplete. I
lost the receipt so I could
n't prove I'd bought it from the place where I did and get a
replacement.
From odds and ends in my toolbox (I am a MAN goddamnit. I have a
TOOLBOX. With crumpled Canadian Tire money at the bottom of it yet.
I think I'll go on the balcony, beat my chest, and howl over my
domain) I managed to attach all but one wheel. I needed a lock washer
to hold the wheel in place. Normally, the little black cap that comes
with the cart has this to lock the wheel and place, and provide a
smooth object to protect careless legs from scrapes. Me, I would have
been happy with just the correct size of lock washer and little bit of
hockey tape at the edges. Unfortunately, all my efforts to find the
right size had been thwarted.
I had looked over lock washers just the day before. I've been looking
for months, mind you. And today, as I hauled my overflowing load of
socks downstairs, I kept thinking how much I'd love to use that cart
right now.
I was in a pretty good mood. The night before the Maple Leafs had one
game two of their series against the Ottawa Senators. I watched it,
and it was a great game with some beautiful goals. I'd just finished
a book by Ann Rule, one of the few true crime authors worth reading.
And I am well on my way to beating Thief 2: The Metal Age on Expert
level. Life is good. So what if my laundry was heavy, and made no
easier to carry by the fact that my basket is cracked along the
handles (the fate of virtually every laundry basket).
I tossed my laundry in, and made my way to the elevator. Here, in the
elevator of sub-basement one, the least likeliest of places, I had my
religious experience.
Let me caution you as I did before: this experience is utterly
meaningless to anyone but me. In fact, many of you will probably find
this stupid, as you should. But I'm telling you, once again, there
was the touch.
On the floor of the elevator, was a cap from a shopping cart, one used
to hold wheels in place. I picked it up and took it up stairs.
It fit my cart perfectly. Now, after months of goofing around with
lock washers, I finally have a cart. You are probably now saying,
"There is a word for this, and it's 'coincidence.'" I agree totally,
but that doesn't change my point. I am not saying that God put that
cap there. As far as divine intervention goes, finding a piece my
cart needed ranks rather low next to raising Lazarus. The most mundane
set of circumstances probably put that cap there.
My point is, I was just wishing for something like that on a day it
just happened to come into my life. I live in a world where a vague
wish can be granted by a coincidence.
Isn't that fucking great?
My first experience--seeing the newborn kitten, also happened due to
an unusual set of circumstances. I was doing three things that I was
unlikely to have been doing that day. In the midst of it all came
this experience, totally unexpected. Just a coincidence. It really
profoundly influenced
the way I think. Coincidences are profound.
I'm not the only person who thinks this way, if I'm reading the
climatic scene of the movie Magnolia right. I won't describe the
climax, but you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you anyway.
It's easily the least predictable climax in motion picture
history...yet it does make sense in its own way.
Magnolia is big on coincidence. The opening sequence discusses cases
of coincidence at length, including people whose lives are connected
by it. The movie then goes on to depict the lives of more people who
are connected by coincidences. A former kid quiz show champion, now
an adult. A young quiz show contest, trying to be the next big
winner. The host of said quiz show. His estranged daughter. A
police officer who investigates a disturbance at her apartment and
becomes infatuated with her. A dying old man. His gold digger wife.
The old man's estranged son, who has some major issues with women
(understatement).
Aside from coincidence, the various parties are also related by
feelings of loneliness and desperation. Some have dark secrets that
they are begging to be forgiven for, and fear that they won't be. The
movie charts their progress through their problems, while Amy Mann
sings unsubtly "It's not going to stop until you wise up." Indeed,
watching the movie you can't help but feel that some of the problems
the people face are easily solvable if they'd just start talking about
how they feel. You actually want to shake some sense into some of
them.
Then, just when it looks like everyone involved is going to totally
self-destruct, the climax occurs, and the characters in the movie are
no less stunned and confused than the audience.
What does it mean? Allow me to offer this interpretation.
While these people are busy screwing up their lives, sinking deeper
and deeper into despair, this thing happens. It defies all rational
explanation. It does suggest a divine one though. Someone saying
"I'm watching." Perhaps it's a friendly touch suggesting to these
emotional road accidents that "Hey, I'm here, and I care." It might
even be a warning. "Listen you idiots: sort this out now. Don't make
me come down there."
I believe I have experienced the friendly touch, and maybe even the
warning. There was one summer where myself and a group of three of
friends, with too much time and sugar on our hands, did everything we
could possibly think of to try to get ourselves killed. This resulted
in an incident that I have always wondered might have been a graphic
demonstration of what could happen if we didn't smarten up. I may
discuss this incident at another time, but right now, I'm too
embarrassed.
As I said, I am prepared to live with the fact that if there is
something divine, I may never get more than a momentarily glimpse at
them. But I am grateful for what I have been shown. I certainly
wouldn't object to another show, though, if someone or something were
willing.
In the meanwhile, Magnolia will be out on DVD soon enough. I will
definitely buy a copy.
---
Jason MacIsaac is Charles Hay Fort's drinking buddy.
-------------------------------------------
4. CoN at the Movies
Pseudo Reviews by Jeff Wright
Hey there pardners! Let's get right to it.
BREAKING THE WAVES
I can't say enough good things about this film. It's simply one
of the greatest films I've ever seen. Lars von Trier kicks royal
fucking ass!!!!!! I don't know what to say. This film is pure
fucking brilliance!!! Emily Watson's performance is probably the best
acting performance ever.
Everytime I tell someone the basic premise of the film, I get
this sarcastic reaction of "Uh huh. That sounds like a great movie
Jeff.", and I go nuts. So I'm not going to tell you what it's about.
Just see it. If you don't like it, fuck you!!!!!! You suck!!!!
If you've got a LD player, it's available as a Criterion
Collection disc. You may still be able to find it somewhere. If
you've got a DVD player, it's available as part of a 3 pack released
by Artisan. It sort of pissed me off that I had to buy two other
movies that I've never seen in order to get a copy, but it was well
worth it. Finally, there's a widescreen VHS version. Watch the pan &
scan VHS version as a last resort. I rented it to see if I could
recommend people renting it, and I can't. It looks terrible. The
film has a very precise style and it's not to be fucked with.
OFFICE SPACE
This is a great comedy from Mike Judge (the creator of Beavis &
Butthead, and King Of The Hill) on the hell that is shitty jobs. The
main cast is mostly unknowns, or little knowns (save Jennifer Aniston)
and they all put in fantastic performances.
The basic premise is three guys work at a computer company.
Jobs they don't like much. The company is downsizing, and the guys
decide to fuck the company.
The advertising on the flick was really bad, so very few people
saw it. I only rented it last week. Here's hoping that it finds its
audience on video because it's a really good movie, with some great
fucking scenes. There are scenes in the flick that I laughed at as
hard as most of South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.
If you're still not convinced to see it, most of the music is
gansta rap. And if a movie about computer jockeys that uses gangsta
rap ain't funny to you, I don't know what is.
EELS - DAISIES OF THE GALAXY
I know it's not a movie, but this CD rocks ass! Just wanted to
sneak this in here.
THE LORD OF THE RINGS PREVIEW INTERNET CLIP
Damn! Isn't it mean to release footage this good, this far
ahead of the release of the first movie? On top of that, the Peter
Jackson fan part of my is fucking weeping for a new flick.
THREE KINGS
I liked this flick when I saw it in theatres, but I was
disappointed. Ya see, I love Flirting With Disaster, David O.
Russel's previous film. It's one of my favourite comedies, and I went
into Three Kings expecting the wrong thing.
I got the DVD today, and re-watched it. It's a really good
movie and if you haven't seen it, you should rent it. If you've got a
DVD player, the disc is packed with extras. The best being Russel's
15 minute video diary about all the shit that comes before making a
movie, and a bit of what comes after. Another great extra (though it
may just be that I'm a huge Spike Jonze fan), is a 2 minute long piece
directed by Jonze and starring Ice Cube on the fine art of acting.
Also included are 2 commentary tracks, deleted scenes, a making of
documentary, and more. Definitely worth picking up.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW
---
Mostly, Jeff, comes out at night. Mostly.
-------------------------------------------
5. My New Motto
by EricR
I have a new motto in life. Let me explain it too you.
I work in the "Internet Industry", which some may imagine as being a
safe-haven for bold, counter-culture types, or at least a place for a
bunch of dorks to try pretend they're bold, counter-culture types, but
lo, it sadly isn't so. No the people who run the internet industry may
think they're counter-culture types just because they don't wear a tie
and know a little bit about Unix or something, (and they do think
this), but they're not. By and large, they're business people, the
same breed of business people you'd find at any brokerage firm, bank,
real estate sales office or money lender's. They read the Wall Street
Journal, curse NAFTA and Alan Greenspan, and discuss the stock market
in their free time.
This kind of thing becomes clear, for instance, when I mention to
someone at work that I'm taking a creative writing course. He asks me
if it's to help my business writing. I explain to him, no, it has
nothing to do with business writing, and, in a different setting,
might have explained to him that someone would have to hold a gun to
my head to get me to write a single line of ad copy, but he just says
"Well, hey, it'll help your business writing too."
This is not the first time something like this has happened too me.
Once I tried to explain to a former boss why I wanted a part-time job
so that I'd have more time to myself. He looked at me blankly, "You
get paid by the hour," he said, "what, you don't want money?"
I swear this is exactly what he said, "What, you don't want money?"
It's like a mantra for these people or something. If it doesn't relate
to money, it might as well not exist, and these soulless people end up
like the characters in the movie Boiler Room, tons of money, and no
clue how to spend it. Because these people have nothing to be
passionate about except material wealth.
One more example, just to reinforce the point. I was at a headhunter's
office once and he asks me "What this YanktheChain.com thing on your
resume?"
"Well," I explain, "it's a web magazine I publish and write for."
"So it's a startup?"
I'm just imagining the gears working in this guy's mind, like some
kind of robot: "Category: Web Magazine; Type: website; Moneymaking?
Processing.. category found, STARTUP. Correct output: 'So it's a
startup?'"
Just to clarify, here's what "startup" means in business talk: a
startup is a new business venture in which someone gets an idea that a
hundred other people already have had, and plans to work 16 hours a
day on it for three years until it gets profitable enough that he can
sell it to a large corporation for a lot of money. Usually they then
have nothing to do with all their money, so they take it and make
another startup.
Passionless. Soulless. Heartless.
Frankly it sends shivers up my spine just thinking about it, thinking
about these people willing to throw away years and years of their
lives for nothing but economic gains, arbitrary numbers that mean
nothing past a certain point anyway. I mean, does anyone really need a
hundred million dollars? For fuck's sake, what are these people doing
with themselves?
Which brings me to my shiny new motto for living, my counter-mantra,
if you will. It is this:
"Never trust anyone who spends their free time talking about the stock
market."
"But Eric," you might say, "surely there's nothing wrong with
investing a conservative index fund over a long period of time to plan
for your retirement, along with a reasonable 401k plan."
Other then the evil of having to know terms like "conservative index
fund" and "401k", I suppose there's nothing really wrong with saving
money so you won't have to worry about starving later on in life. This
is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about people who talk about
the stock market for kicks, who debate fine points of junk bonds and
treat their 100 shares of Sisco like something to brag about.
"But Eric," you might also say, "the stock market is a fascinating
numerical representation of our economic system. By studying the Dow
Jones we can grow to understand patterns of mass behavior and the
underlying mechanics of capitalistic society."
Okay, perhaps as a form of scholarly research the stock market might
be worth talking about. And Newt Gingrich should be elected president.
And everyone should watch Titanic at least three times a day while
shoving razor blades under their toe nails.
Really, the people who say this kind of horseshit are simply trying to
justify their own greed and the emptiness of their pathetic lives
which need to be filled up with over-blown philosophical statements
about an already over-blown way for rich people to stay rich without
adding anything to society.
Let me tell you about what the stock market really is, and saying this
is the only truly justifiable excuse to mention the stock market at
all.
The stock market is a means for parasites. Stock brokers, investment
firms, Mutual Funds, people who spend their livelihoods pouring money
in and out of the market do absolutely nothing for society except move
money around; they don't create anything, they don't try to make the
world a better place, except in the most abstract examples of things
like Al Gore claiming that he created the internet because he gave
money to its development.
And we, as a society, don't need these people. The people themselves
might try to convince us that we do, that we cannot have innovation
without a system of financial backing, but that's horseshit. There is
no excuse for a system that allows non-productive people to be among
the richest. It's a travesty, and, taking a cue from Douglas Adams, we
should pile all the middle men we can find in a big rocket ship and
shoot them as far away from us as technologically possible.
Until we do, don't trust anyone who spends their free time talking
about the stock market.
---
EricR is the editor and programmer of YanktheChain.com, a web magazine
that believes in improving the world through hate. It will IPO in
November.
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