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The Neo-Comintern 109
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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 0 9
LANOITANRETNI ht5 EHT ERA EW - WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL
0002 ,ht5 enuJ - June 5th, 2000
CMB :rotidE - Editor: BMC
:sretirW - Writers:
enyaW ylranG - Gnarly Wayne
CMB - BMC
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;P Featured in this installment .b
$ $
$ The Legend of Me- BMC $
$ The Power of Rap- Gnarly Wayne $
`q p'
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EDITOR'S NOTE
Well if there's one thing The Comintern is all about, it's the gold,
the money, the jewels the cars, the money. Everything, man. The Comintern
is about everything.
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;P THE LEGEND OF ME .b
`q by BMC p'
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Ok, here's a story that I've wanted to tell you for a long time. It
happened in 2001. No, wait, I think it was 2002. Or was it 1976? It was
back before I lost my cock, but, no, I think it was maybe in the 80's. I'm
not sure anymore. 1984? Nope that is the book by George Orwell. 87? Nope,
that was the year I was born. Oh damn, I can't remember. Oh jeah, yeah,
it was in nineteen-fifty-nine, the year that they legalized marijuana, and I
believe that was the year after Peter Tosh became the Prime Minister of New
Canada, or Old Canada as it was called back then. Anyway, I was, uhh, this
many years old, and me pappy wanted me to go, i think, and buy him a box of
marijuana from the corner store.
Wait. No I don't think my dad was born yet in 1955, so that can't
be the year that it happened. Oh jeah, I think that I was just buying the
box of pants for myself. My dad wasn't even around yet. So I looked at my
shopping list and there was but one thing on it: a box of pants. They had
just legalized pants that year, so everybody was smoking them and it was like
a new world to me. So I was going to the market, but this was my big
problem. I didn't know how to get there. I mean, the market was outside of
my house and I was inside, so I had to think of a way to deal with this
immediate barrier. I thought about it for a few hours, minutes, then I dug
a tunnel through the floor and fell into the basement and hit my head and
passed out and maybe died. No wait, it couldn't have happened like that,
because I ended up getting my box of gold apples by the end of the story I
think. Ok, so I must have thrown my arm through the window to escape to
freedom, and that is the story of how I lost my arm! T'wasn't in the war
like I told you the other day. Pretty cool, eh?
No wait, no wait. I still have both arms, so I forget how I lost
them. See this tattoo, though? I got that in China in 5000bc! B.C. B.C.
I went to B.C. once. They have boxes of marijuana there. We are in B.C.
right now. I think it was over there that I bought my box of druegars, but
I'm not sure because they changed it into a box of crackers now, whereas it
used to be a bowl of soup. Pipe down! let me concentrate. The year is '86,
I have to leave my house because I need my box of rain for old dad. I look
around, escape seems impossible, but there must be a way to escape this cell
outward to freedom. AHA! A door! Not only one, but two. One at the front,
one at the back. But what to do with them, how to operate them. They are
no less dense than the other walls of the house. Yes, an axe! I ran for my
tool box and grabbed a hammer, the perfect tool for the job. Yes, this
would work perfectly! I attempted to break the door down with my hatchet,
but since the ceiling was only two feet high I had a very hard time swinging
the hammer. I opened the door and proceeded to break it down from the other
side. That made it easier. BoomBoomBoom! And it was done. I was free,
and off to meet my friends at the skating rink for a game of shinny.
I always wanted a Canadiens sweater, but my mother ordered me a
Maple Leafs jersey from the Eaton's catalogue. I cried and told her I hated
her, but I really loved her. That was just a game we played back in '64.
Then I prayed that moths would eat the sweater, and they did. After that
happened, I went to the store, heading East, no, West, no, North, no, South,
no, South, no, East, well, that way, anyway, and I headed whichever where
with glee. I had a shiny nickel that I earned by working at the corner
store, and here I was to buy dad the special box for his birthday.
I walked out of the store with a box in my hand, but that was years
later, or so it seemed. On this day I hadn't exited any store, in fact, I
hadn't even entered one... yet. Ohp, now I had. Yes I was in the store. I
flipped my nickel on the counter and said, "give me your finest box of
whatever you've got." He looked at me and said, "A nickel don't go ver far
son. What year do you think this is? 1961?" I began to cry. "I don't
know..." I sobbed. It was true. I didn't know what year it was or what
direction I was or why I wanted a box of bric-a-brac so badly. I looked at
the merchant and hated him. I even hated his good qualities, and he didn't
have any. The man felt sorry for me and gave me a box of something, I
believe it was corn. Mister Blackstache was always a generous man.
Anyway, the moral of the story is that I eventually got my box and
now I would like to pass the box down to you, my grandchild. I really would,
but like I said, I gave it to my father, and he was buried in it later that
day. Sorry, son. I still loves ya, though!
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;P THE POWER OF RAP .b
`q by Gnarly Wayne p'
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I had a dream about this article and I am transcribing in full, so please
pardon it if you find it unfunny. I do agree it's not all that funny, but I
made a vow a long time ago to write down all dreams relating to the
Neo-Comintern or Suburban Terrorism Online.
Rap is absolutely the best form of music there is, hands down. Need
proof? OK, here it is.
1. When a group of people are talking together, they are rapping.
Talking is good and funny.
2. If you have problems getting into a door, try rapping on it. Someone
may just open it for you.
3. If someone is bothering you, giving them a hard rap to the head may
just turn them around.
4. If you are ever lost and can't find your way home, unfold a rap and
follow the closest path home. You are saved!
5. If you are tired but it isn't close to your bedtime, try taking a rap.
You will wake up refreshed and full of energy!
So there you have it, rap is way more useful than any other form of music
and may just save your life. Rap rules! Werd! Peace!
And remember, tha SoP's science is way too tight!
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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 #109-06/05/00
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.
