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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 6 7
We Are the New International
August 20th, 2001
Editor: BMC
Writers:
trilobyte
Heckat
BMC
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;P Featured in this installment .b
$ $
$ scenarios - trilobyte $
$ Debates through Verse - Heckat and BMC $
`q p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
EDITOR'S NOTE
(please do not read the following)
My family was so poor that we couldnn't afford water. So when it
snowed, we would melt the water, then we would wash our dishes in it,
after which we would pour it into the washtub would and wash with it,
then we would drink it and later wash our clothes in the piss. Then we
would drink it again, and after that we would put it in the pig trough,
using the pigs' sweat to water the garden, because it would be spring
again by the time we were done with this process.
(all lies - please believe it - i swear the rest of the issue is better)
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;P SCENARIOS .b
`q by trilobyte p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
ok, scenario one: my girlfriend walks into a bar. a guy with brown
hair and a "rattflag" t-shirt walks over to her, drink in hand. and he
says:
"hey, what's your name, baby?" with a sneer -- nay, GLEEFUL look of
disdain -- on his face.
and i haul off and punch him. i punch him, even though i'm not
there. i punch him, because he doesn't understand -- he doesn't know all
the work i've put into making this girl deaf -- all the punching and
prodding and ear-removing and whatnot -- it takes a lot to make a girl
deaf, screaming loudly into her ear, really REALLY loudly -- you know, so
he doesn't understand.
but she blindly looks at this man falling to the floor, not even
knowing what he said to her.
but i think she can assume.
scenario two: my girlfriend walks into a bar. i follow. a guy sitting
at the corner of the wooden, long bar says to her .. nAY, SHOUTS:
"hey, NICE TITS!"
and i scream -- i scream, so loud it almost makes my girlfriend
deaf, i say,
"HEY MAN, NOT EVEN AS NICE AS *YOUR* HOOTERS!" and i raise my arm
and fist into the air, and then i run over to the bar and order myself a
drink and pat the man on the back because he's my brother and man, he's
always been able to appreciate a nice set of tits.
scenario three: my girlfriend walks into a bar. a guy at the bar, at
the corner of the long, L-shaped wooden bar with gambling games
installed, he shouts:
"HEY, NICE TITS!"
and i walk over and punch them.
my girlfriend doesn't appreciate this, she falls over, almost in
some kind of horrendous pain -- but, you know, i thought since they were
so firm they could take it.
scenario FOUR:
my girlfriend walks up to a bar after walking into the bar (and not
ducking, HE EH E HEH E) and she orders herself a drink ... she doesn't
even know that it's loaded with COCAINE and she becomes addicted and
lives a life of pain and torture.
scenario five:
what's your name, baby? what's that name of yours? what'd your
parents name that sweet carcass of yours? would you like to share that
slot? give me some lovin, sweet fleshy thang.
scenario SIX:
my girlfriend walks into a bar. a guy at the gambling
machine shouts,
"HEY BABY, GIVE ME THEM TITS!"
and she lifts up her yellow shirt above her head, just like they
do on those college-girl television commercials, and the guys at the bar
all hoot-and-holler and the guy with the video camera throws some beads
at her.
scenario SEVEN:
my girlfriend walks into a bar. i hold her back with my
right hand. i like the finesse of it, i like to caress the thing. it's
quite fleshy. naw, it's not, i'm just playin'. eheh heehee eheheheh.
so then this guy, he goes, "hey, man, show me your girlfriend's
tits." so i break out this picture, this photograph, i've got with me --
i carry it with me in my wallet. i like to sell it for money. and the
guy goes, "dude, man, that's sweet," and my girlfriend overhears, and she
blushes, and she starts making out with the guy on my lap but i get a
boner cos they're brushing up against it, and man this is sweet
so
scenario EIGHT:
i go home with the two of them, and then i realize, you
know what? this guy, this guy here, he SMELLS, and he hasn't given me
any money. "why am i sticking around, i wonder. OH, i don't know and i
go with it & offer him some deodorant.
scenario NINE:
my girlfriend's got rabies. i knew this would happen, it
was written on that tablet thing i found in that cave.
scenario TEN:
what's my name? where am i? baby, lick my balls.
scenario ELEVEN:
this is nice, and gooey. i like all the blood surrounding
me. this is quite delicious! mmm, steaky.
"
scenario TWELVE:
i walk into a bar. my girlfriend is beside me. i stop
digressing and just get to the point -- she sees her ex-boyfriend and
stops holding hands with me. i don't know what to think -- what does she
care? what does HE care? in fact, WHO EVEN CARES? the future's the
future, the past's the past -- and exactly that. so i haul off and punch
him.
then i realize, she stopped holding hands with ME 'cause she was
carressing the doorman's dick. oh... so who's the doorman?
none other than NICHOLAS CAGE. the fucking sellout.
see scenario #eight.
scenario THIRTEEN (for good luck)
my girlfriend's tits are in my face. i say to her, "momma, i love
the way you be lovin' me." i say, "i love that shit." then she looks
over at me, she looks away from the Matisse painting she'd been looking
at, she looks over at me, she says: " duddddee, HEHEHE HEHEHEHEHEHEH H
HE HH E HEHEH hdduduude,, h HEH EHHEHEH there's bumps on the walls HE HE
HEHE HEHEH EHE" and then i realize, bitch-slap, i realize ... w hat the
fuck??@!$@??$@!@!?$$@?!?@!$?@$!?$@!
you know>..>!>?>!
<insert diatribe, or just fucking go "HEH E HEH HE H EH E HE HE HE H#!$">
meta-language, man. HEH EHEHEH H EHEHEHHEEHHEHEH EH E HEH fuck'n a.
bye.
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;P DEBATES THROUGH VERSE .b
`q by Heckat and BMC p'
`nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'
Below find a fierce debate regarding asceticism and reckless
indulgence. Does starvation invite loneliness, enlightenment, or both?
Is gluttony the path to an early grave, or does it help one to win
friends? Does the solution to all of our problems lie somewhere in a
forgotten horticultural past? All these questions and more will be
answered for you in innocent, yet provocative, poetic verses originally
inspired by the ingenious words of one, WB Yeats. You will be moved to
tears and laughter as the dialogue eventually culminates in an amazing
philosophical metaphor for life, the universe, and love.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
- Yeats
Heckat:
If green eggs and ham were women's meat
What more crazy salad could they eat?
BMC:
If women ate green eggs and swine
I know with them I would not dine
Heckat:
If you were a lady, you'd have to behave
And eat eggs and pig, if that's what they gave.
BMC:
If you were a man, then naught but pork
And fish (and eggs) would fill your fork.
Heckat:
I'd wash my protein down with rye
And of heart failure, early die.
BMC:
If gluttony will lead me to death's gate
I will fast, not feast, but hunger for bait.
Heckat:
Enlightenment may be gained from a fast -
Clarifying future, present, and past.
BMC:
Though interested in future, past and present,
To starve myself I would be hesitant.
Heckat:
If starvation was a rock at sea
What a lonely island it would be.
BMC:
If lacking food means being alone,
Then why can we not grow our own?
(note that it is a universal "we")
Heckat:
If being full means having friends,
Shall we grow food until the world ends?
(note that it is a universal "our")
BMC:
If we hunger then love must be sown,
For in no other way is friendship grown.
Heckat:
From crops of love we harvest fruits,
Drink peace and joy from champagne flutes.
BMC:
The tree of love we dare not sever,
Or growth of joy will cease forever.
Heckat:
If joy, like a gift, hangs from a tree,
We should rejoice and pick contentedly.
BMC:
Pick fruit from the tree? me must,
Or it will over ripen, fall, and concuss.
Heckat:
I approach the tree late at night
To climb, reflect and eat moonlight.
BMC:
The tree will look and smile at spring
With new fresh fruit and one new ring.
And now the disputation to answer everyone's most burning question:
Should we drink pulpy orange juice, or not?
BMC, speaking eloquently on behalf of the "yeses":
pulpy pulpy drink it up
pulpy pulpy in my cup
pulpy pulpy in my mug
pulpy pulpy on my rug
maybe if I'm bald someday
I will wear a pulp toupee
Heckat, speaking adamantly for the "noes":
Pulp is gross
it makes me gag
I'd rather wear
a dirty rag
BMC, putting in one final persuasive bit of evidence:
pulp is love
pulp is life
i will have
a pulpy wife
pulp is calm
pulp is wild
we will have
a pulpy child
we'll drink pulp
for all our days
and hold fast to
our pulpy ways
vote:
yes to pulp:
1,365,436,289.3
no to pulp:
13
neutral (including everyone who lives in countries where orange juice is
not available):
4,634,563,697.7
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___________________________________________________
|THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S |
|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
| TWILIGHT ZONE (905) 432-7667 |
| 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 |
| Questions? Comments? Submissions? |
| Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com |
|___________________________________________________|
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Copyright 2001 by The Neo-Comintern #167-08/20/01
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
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