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Capital of Nasty Vol. 01 Issue 12
Capital of Nasty Electronic Magazine
Volume I, Issue XII, Year MCMXCVI AD
Monday, September 8th, 1996
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1. The truth about women
2. Death by Silicon Phrost (Banthis)
3. A lesson about life by Peter Sprokkelenburg
4. Yet another issue.
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1. THE TRUTH ABOUT WOMEN
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In this world, there are two sets of women: women that
you would love to be with, and women that would love to
be with you. THERE IS NO UNION OF THESE TWO SETS.
Any woman that you become extremely attracted to will
tell you that you are the best friend that a woman could
ever have.
Being told that you are nice is the equivalent to her
saying, "I wish that you were my brother." (a curse)
Or her way of saying that "I hope we can just be friends."
(a classic)
A Slut is a woman that will sleep with anyone. A Bitch
is a woman that will sleep with anyone but you. All
women are Bitches.
Only beautiful women who are engaged or engaged to be
engaged or married or your mother's best friend will
think that you are a wonderful person that any woman
would die for.
These same women will be completely dumbfounded at the
revelation that you don't go out with a hundred women a
week. Much less one.
When a woman says "No!" she really means "Yes!" -- except,
of course, when she means "NO!"
Unless you make over a million dollars a year, you must
completely ignore and demean a woman to gain her affection.
If you completely disregard her existence, she'll die
for you.
The degree of subtlety used by a woman is inversely
proportional to how attracted you are to her. If you
are absolutely in love with everything about her, her
hints will amount to, "I really like your roommate's
new shoes." If you have no attraction to her what-so-ever,
she will ask you to come spend a week with her in
the Bahamas.
A woman will confide to you that she slept with your
best friend and that he treated her like dirt afterwards.
She will go on-and-on for hours, until she builds up
enough nerve to ask him out again.
Every woman that you meet that you are instantly attracted
to will be:
(1) Married,
(2) Heavily dating the same guy for the 2rd year,
(3) A lesbian,
(4) my brother's ex-girlfriend or
(5) any combination of the above.
A "Taken" woman will tell you that you are a great-looking
guy, but that looks don't matter anyway and that she'd go
out with you if she wasn't already dating someone.
"Taken" women are the only women capable of understanding
your wonderful sense of humor, your amazing musical talent,
your tremendous sensitivity, and gracious generosity.
A Woman will talk to you about a certain guy that they
think is a real jerk, wondering what any Woman would see
in him, and then ask you to set them up. Women will
absolutely drive you crazy and seemingly make no sense.
Women will confuse you and make you distraught.
Women are the most wonderful things in the entire world.
They are the most precious element that the world could
ever know. Everything from the way they look to the way
they talk to the way the move, walk, sigh, gesture, dance,
smile, laugh, cuddle, squeeze, tease, hug, caress, smell,
taste -- is fantastic.
- source unknown
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2. Death
Silicon Phrost
oO0B8#@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@#8B0Oo
I fear death. I don't fear the dying as I
know some day I will die, whether some crack pot
pyschomaniac like Jeffery Dahlmer eats my loins or
I get hit my some crackpot drunk driver or some crack
pot bbser gets mad at me because I called him a lamer
and he Tesla Coils my computer and me with it, or he
blows up my house reading some text files from the
Anarchist's cookbook. I say, hey fuck I'm going to die.
I fear dying before my time as well, if I die tommorow
I'd be kinda pissed off, I haven't even begun to live my
life yet. I've only been laid a few dozen times. I can't
buy booze legally, I don't even have a job, or a car, or
someone I love. I don't even know who I totally am yet, I
have ideas or thoughts, tommorow I might be a pyscho
crackpot eating little kid's loins. I tell you, I've
come close to cracking a few times.
I walk to school and see all the people I hate.
'I hate them because I do not know them, and will not
them because I hate them'. These are mostly the people
I call posuers, I don't know them, but I don't like them,
I don't like how they act or what they try to represent,
but looking deeper some of them are interesting people.
I feel, hey look at that faggot, I hate him, I say to
myself, "I could kill that guy right now, and watch
the blood drip from his body as the life slowly slips
away..." Am I sick? I have this little voice in
my head that says, "Go on, stab him, end his pathetic
life, watch the blood flow..." I just smile smugly to
myself and think how easy it is to take away someone
else's exsistance. Do killers think of the ramifications
of murder? They take everything, not only from the
victim, but from the victims friends and family.
People have asprirations, loves, hopes, dreams. Yet I
could take that all away based on unknown hate.
Worse than thinking about death is what happens.
If you ever want to contemplate the 'un'contemplatable,
contemplate the afterlife. No philosphy or therom can
significantly describe the afterlife. Simply because
no one *can* know. They're dead for christ sakes.
This is my fear. I don't fear much, but I fear death
with the passion of an inferno. What happens? The
solution of heaven does not fit into my scheme of
things, nor does 'winking' out of exsistance.. and
'reincarnation' almost as believeable as heaven.
What of reincarnation? My conciousness is my own, it
make us as human beings close to being humane different
from animals. Concious thought, I sit like an man on a
solitary stool, in a large room, with no exits and only
one light, a light coming from an invisible light source
that spotlights, the man sitting on the stool. This is
my conciousness, alone inside my head. I see other
people and I think, this can't be real. But the
conciousness flows around me, other people's conciousness.
They too, think inside their own minds. Oh what I would
give to read the minds of others. And when we die,
reincarnation is unfathomable because my conciousness no
longer exsists. Does my conciousness get changed into
that of my 'new' self, locked away in some tiny chromasone
of chemical that someone how enters the 'ethereal' genepool?
And my conciousness transfered to that of a non-thinking
feotus? Try, I dare you to try and think about it, I dare
you to come to a conclusion. I gaurentee you will drive
yourself insane. Your conciousness is your own, how can
they be changed?
So, I fear death. Losing all conciousness, I don't
believe in just 'winking' out, I find this is inexplicable
also. I have comtemplated suicide several times in the
hope of finding out. But I also fear what I may find...
(From: "Banthis Electronic Magazine")
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3. A lesson about life
This is one of those things that really makes you stop and
think about your life...
Last night Leo and I dropped off William. We then desided
that neither of us really wanted to go home YET. So we did
our typical "go-straight-and-then-turn" drive. We did this
for at least....half an hour and ended up at Steeles and
Bayview. The light turned red and the cars on Steeles
stopped. A blue Ford pickup was headed south on Bayview
and proceed to go through the green light. A black Pontiac
Sunfire comes out of nowhere runs the light and hits the
side of the pickup. Just before it happened we both said,
(really without known it) "They're going to hit".
This was the first time that I, personally had seen a crash.
I was shocked. So was Leo. We parked the car on the sidewalk
behind a bus stop, told one of the policeman that we had
witnessed the "accident".
After giving our signed statement to the officer we proceeded
home. It was not util sometime later that we finally realized
what had just happened and how close it came to being us.
After parking the car I went to measure the distance. The crash
happened ten feet in front of us. I don't really believe that
there is a God as such but I thank my gardian angel for
watching over me. Perhaps there is that special person in
both of our lives that makes sure we are okay.
There is one thing that I learned from this whole is that you
have to live for that moment and not worry about what could
happen tomorrow, or the next day or even next week for that matter.
Peter Sprokkelenburg. (psprokk@scinet.net)
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4. Yet another issue.
I feel like I am repeating myself over and over when
I type this silly final comments at the end of CoN (which are
only space fillers). 10 feet more on the right, and there
would've been no CoN this week. Nor ever. How many people
actually bother reading our magazine? Hey, I know the meaning
of life, I am going to write here in the next issue, does
anyone really care? Well (yes, WELL), perhaps for your
reading pleasure, we'll have some poems by our very own
Dr. Max Stocker. What? You are still reading this? You really
like us then? *sigh* oh, thank you kind lord. And guess
what this sentence makes? The last one.
Leandro
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