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The Neo-Comintern 110
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t h e n e o - c o m i n t e r n e l e c t r o n i c m a g z i n e
I n s t a l l m e n t N u m b e r 1 1 0
LANOITANRETNI ht5 EHT ERA EW - WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL
0002 ,ht11 enuJ - June 11th, 2000
CMB :rotidE - Editor: BMC
:sretirW - Writers:
enyaW ylnraG - Gnarly Wayne
CMB - BMC
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;P Featured in this installment .b
$ $
$ Smokers Are Lazy- BMC $
$ The Mystery of M- Gnarly Wayne $
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EDITOR'S NOTE
I'm really tempted to kick this issue off by saying that there's
one thing the Comintern is all about, but I think I am going to avoid that
urge and tell you a little story I thought of last weekend.
"MISSION POSSIBLE"
There were these spies that went on this really amazing mission and
it was like Mission Impossible but they called it Mission Possible. Instead
of having cool spy devices like exploding chewing gum they had anti-spy
devices like guns that were actually cigarette lighters and communication
devices that were actually flasks of alcohol. Needless to say, these guys
were a bunch of losers and didn't have any friends, but their mission was
possible so at least they had that going for them. Anyway, they kept talking
about how possible the mission was when compared with the impossible mission
that the other guys were doing, and they got overconfident and failed their
mission and the supporting character got killed and the main guy became an
alcoholic and nobody wanted to talk to him anymore because he was too
annoying. That man was my grandfather. The end.
Enjoy the issue!
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;P SMOKERS ARE LAZY .b
`q by BMC p'
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Hey, there's just one thing that I want to prove today, and that's
that smokers are the laziest bunch of people in the world. I'm not making a
judgement, however. I am not trying to say that laziness is good or bad. It
just IS. It exists, and the core group of lazy people are the smokers.
Proof, BMC? Well first of all, it is just an excuse for people to be
able to take a break from work every hour. Smokers inherently hate to work,
and they'll do anything to get out of it, even if it means smoking.
It is also a well-known fact that smokers complain about the weather
more than anyone else. This is pretty stupid of them, because it is their
choice to go outside for their lazy-assed smoke breaks. First of all, if
they don't like the weather then they should change it like the rest of us
do. If they lack the ability to do that, then they can stay the hell inside
and shut up. It's not like they're going out for fresh air or something
noble anyway.
One thing confuses me, though. Smoking is a physical act, and the
degenerates in the "smoker" column do it even though it is an expendature of
energy. This almost makes them seem non-lazy in a way. But then again, life
takes up a lot of energy, and it must be noted that smokers attempt to
shorten their life spans so they can be that much closer to the eternal
laziness which can only be found in death.
Have you ever noticed that smokers always have a cigarette after they
eat? Most of us don't even think about out internal processes such as
digestion as being a burden, but smokers are so lazy that they can't do it
on their own. They put nicotine into their bodies to speed up their
metabolism, which I believe is done in order to keep their large intestine
free for other things (ie anal sex).
Smokers always complain about the taxes on cigarettes because it
means they have to do more work in order to buy smokes. Think about this,
though. Smokers know that it is bad for them, but they are too lazy to
preserve their health. They leave that up to the doctors. Well think about
it, which is easier, stopping smoking or getting a professional to remove
tumors from your lungs? If you can get someone else to grow a healthy new
heart to be transplanted into your body, why bother preserving the one
you've got now? Wow, now that I think of it, it seems way more logical to
smoke. Plus it real looks cool (except for the purple gums and unhealthy
skin).
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;P THE MYSTERY OF M .b
`q by Gnarly Wayne p'
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North Umberland Street, being blind, was totally unaware of the tiny
little house that sat on its back, just off to the left. In this house
lived three people, all dead. How did these people die, you ask? "How
should I know?" I say, but I do know someone who does (read: a detective).
A detective can solve this caper. He is of world reknown, he is a super
sleuth, he is doofa doofa Detective Gumshoe. But he's not home.
"Tis a shame", said I.
"Tis," replied Helga. I murdered Helga with a paring knife and
warned her that if she said Tis one more time I would murder her with a
bloody paring knife. She didn't reply. She was dead! Damn, now I have
four murders to solve. Where to start? Where to begin?
I went to my favorite coffee shop and ordered some tea. I sat down
near the window and began to think hard.
"If I was the killer, where would I be?" I had to get inside the
mind of the killer. I figured it would help if I murdered everyone in the
coffee shop, so I did. Wait! A clue! I rolled the body of the owner over
and found what I presumed to be the murder weapon, a bloody paring knife.
The blood tasted fresh. I was hot on his (or her) trail. Gathering up some
blood for later, I exuented onto the street.
A car drove by and honked. Obviously it was the killer mocking me.
I fired off twenty paring knives at the vehicle. They pierced the cars body
and I heard shrieks from within. Shrieks?!? The murderer was at it again!
I raced over to the car and, sure enough, found a citizen impaled by twenty
paring knives. I all at once realized that the driver was none other than
Jesus Christ: Superstar! He drove a Pinto with an AM radio and a ripped
seat. I guess heaven doesn't have much money. Maybe cloud prices are low.
I decided to find out.
After I murdered the rest of the city, I took the stairs up to
heaven. St. Peter was chillin' by the pearly Gates, smoking a big, phat
spliff. "Whot up, nza?" said the holy man. "Yes, I am making a formal
inquiry as to the current status on cloud production," said I. St. PDW
replied, "You stoopid beeeeotch! Cloud is a C word."
"Word", I worded. I murdered him and got the key to the city of
eternal glow. After getting lost on God Street, I murdered a few spirits
and found the apartment of God.
I buzzed him and it took him awhile to let me in. God is lazy. He
sounded tired, like he had just woken up, but it was only three in the
afternoon. I entered his pad and he was lying on the couch eating Frito-Lays
and watching Babylon 5. He said to me, "Have you seen this show? It's
nothing like I thought it would be. Hurmph. Humans in space.
Puleeeeezzzze."
I told him to shut it and asked about the cloud prices and the
recent rash of murders that had taken place. "Well," said He, "cloud prices
have been going down and, well, ummmmm, you are responsible for the murders.
Haven't you been paying attention?"
I asked him if now was a good time to buy a 2000 model cloud. He
said, "Yep, but you better hurry cause they're going fast." On my way out,
I tried to murder him, but he dodged and I murdered his plant instead. We
waved goodbye and God said, "Smell ya later."
I set out to purchase my new cloud. I got my cloud and promptly
flew all over heaven, murdering all the spirits as I went. I flew back to
earth to catch a killer. A brilliant thought entered my brainium. "If I
murdered everyone on the earth, the murderer would have no one else to
murder, hence, he/she could not be a murderer anymore."
Two weeks later, after I murdered everyone, I still hadn't heard of
any new murders, so I assumed I was successful. I spent the rest of my days
living in a blissful state of unawareness.
P.S. Just kidding, I murdered myself two days later.
PEACE!
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___________________________________________________
|THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S |
|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
| BRING ON THE NIGHT (306) 373-4218 |
| CLUB PARADISE (306) 978-2542 |
| THE GATEWAY THROUGH TIME (306) 373-9778 |
|___________________________________________________|
| Website at: http://members.home.com/comintern |
| Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com |
|___________________________________________________|
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Copyright 2000 by The Neo-Comintern #110-06/11/00
All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any
part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. Made in Canada.
